#he's always let everyone make choices for him and speak for him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tiramisuucakeee · 2 days ago

Text

A VERY BAD REP, AND EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN ★

( 420! reader x playboy! heeseung )

IN WHICH : at an exclusive private school in the city, where rich kids thought they ruled the place, heeseung finds out the girl who cheated off of him on an exam and could probably get him expelled, has an even worse reputation than him, and she doesn’t seem to care about what he thinks or says.

WARNINGS: drugs, sexual content. +18.

BTW: tried my best to represent my king fanon suna rintaro in y/n. i haven’t smoked in so long….. it’s been 30 years (2 weeks)….. i’m starting to forget the feeling (girl got sober) ….. ok so basically i dramatized everything cause it’s a fanfic okay, don’t think i take all the stuff i wrote pls and ew i wil never ever write smth like this again, i’m a fluff writer TT

WC: i aint counting allat

read more !

they say opposites attract, even in love, and for him, it’s always been true. he’s into quiet, delicate girls, the type who never speak up and just go with the flow. but no matter how sweet they are, heeseung drops them without a second thought, like they’re nothing more than a momentary distraction after getting what he wants from them. so how did he end up in a situation where it was him doing the chasing? he never really thought he'd have to, ever.

it was almost funny, laughable even. he, of all people, accused of copying on an exam? and now facing the possibility of being expelled if he didn’t find a way to make it right? it was the kind of mess he never imagined getting into.

yes, he was a player and toyed with girls’ feelings for his own benefit, but that was it, he would never dare to stain his behavior record and affect his reputation with the school. he knew his family would kill him if he did, they were the type to always put on a face for others and everyone thought they were this perfect little rich family of three, that went on the most expensive trips and could buy anyone and anything.

he could still remember the teacher’s harsh words blaming him for this. ‘miss y/n has an impeccable record of approved grades in my subject, while you, mister heeseung, barely scrape by. and in this exam, it’s your first grade above a 90. you both share the same exact answers, the same solutions. that leaves me to think you copied off her. i suggest you stop denying it and accept the punishment of suspension. if not, i’ll have no choice but to speak to the principal about expelling you from this school. and your father won’t be able to save you from this one again with donations.’

heeseung slammed his locker shut with a fury, the sound echoing down the empty hallway as the final bell rang. his mind raced, thoughts spiraling. what was he going to tell his family if he actually got expelled? his family reputation couldn’t fix this. the idea was unthinkable, impossible. he wasn’t about to let something he didn’t do ruin everything. he wouldn’t accept it. not without a fight.

he’d stolen the cheat sheet, that much was true. but copying off another student? he would never do that. he had his pride, after all. the problem was, he had no idea how you’d ended up with that paper. how did you get your hands on it? and why the hell had you not even thought about changing one single answer to be slick? his mind was racing, but he wasn’t about to let anyone think he was that stupid.

heeseung had never even bothered to look your way since you got to the school a year and a half ago in your leather jacket and sunglasses. your parents knew each other but you weren’t the type of person he’d ever hang out with. he did know about a guy having a fling with you, and honestly, it almost drove him insane. word has gotten out you had almost driven him to the point of seeking professional help to be sane. but that wasn’t even the worst thing said about you. even with your father’s reputation and money, you weren’t safe from being on people’s mouths as the daughter he never wanted.

what made everything even more difficult was that he had no idea how to make you admit it was you. he didn’t have your number, didn’t know anything about your schedule except for the one class you both shared. confronting you in person seemed like a disaster waiting to happen. he couldn’t risk you turning the whole thing around, making him look like the bad guy while you played the victim. it would be just his luck.

he had never felt so completely taken advantage of. it was always him who used people, who knew how to manipulate them into giving him exactly what he wanted. yet here he was, losing his mind over a girl he’d never even spoken to. it was ridiculous, and it pissed him off.

as the next day rolled around, he was still consumed by it. before the first period, he stood by the stone lion statue on the entrance of school, leaning against the wall next to jake and sunghoon, waiting for karina and wonyoung, as they mindlessly talked about a new prada backpack sunghoon bought yesterday. but heeseung’s mind kept drifting back to the mess with you, he tried to push it aside, focusing on the usual routine. still, the more he tried to forget, the more it nagged at him.

just as he was about to ask jake about you, since he always seemed to know everything about everyone, he stopped himself. no way was he going to ask his friend for help and look uncapable of solving things. he needed to figure this out on his own. instead, he turned his thoughts to how he could find you before the shared calculus class at the end of the day. he had to get to the bottom of this, and fast.

"heeseung!" a cheery voice called out, pulling him from his thoughts. he looked up to see karina dragging wonyoung along, both of them heading toward him, their little red-bottom heels clicking against the pavement. karina flashed him a big, playful smile and waved enthusiastically, her energy cutting through the tension that had been building all morning.

“damn it, it’s too early in the morning for this,” heeseung muttered, rolling his eyes as they approached. jake, who had been watching the whole scene with a smirk, nudged him in the ribs. “that girlfriend of yours, man,” he teased. heeseung just shot him a glare, clearly not amused.

the two girls made their way toward them, but just as they were about to reach the group, a loud, roaring engine cut through the morning air. before anyone could react, a sleek motorcycle zoomed in, blocking their path. the rider revved the engine once more, making it clear they weren’t going anywhere until they dealt with them.

"woah, what’s goin on?" sunghoon asked, clearly impressed by the person who had the guts to stop karina and wonyoung in their tracks. he wasn’t the only one taken aback. everyone was staring as the motorcycle came to a halt. little did they know, the rider was someone heeseung had been obsessing over all morning, someone who could probably ruin both karina and wonyoung’s face with just one single punch. the tension in the air shifted instantly, and heeseung felt his heart race, but not for his girlfriend’s safety, instead, for the person who rolled around.

the motorcycle she was riding was imposing, big, dark, and matte, with electric blue accents. the kind of bike that screamed power and danger. it looked like something straight out of a movie, designed to intimidate, just like its rider. there was a certain energy about her, something that made everyone around tense up instinctively. she didn’t need to say a word to command attention. her presence alone was enough to make even the most confident shrink back.

but they still stepped closer, followed by a crowd of other students who knew exactly who was under the helmet. everyone was eager to see what would happen next.

you pulled off the black helmet, letting your hair tumble out as the cold morning air hit your face, sharpening the already obvious irritation in your expression. there was an undeniable edge to your aura, something fierce and untouchable, like you thrived on chaos and didn’t care who knew it. the way you stood, calm but dangerous, with an almost predatory confidence, made it clear you weren’t here to play nice. karina glanced around, clearly uncomfortable in the middle of a confrontation she’d rather avoid, but she couldn’t deny what she had just done, not going unnoticed by you.

not letting her get the first word, you swung off your motorcycle, your movements sharp and deliberate. "you bitch, are you insane?" you shot at her, pointing a finger directly in her face. the students around you quickly scrambled, eager to capture what might turn into a full-blown fight. for the students watching, it was like something straight out of a teen movie. the popular ‘it girl’ of the school facing off against the infamous ‘bad girl’. a label you despised even more than the people who threw it around. the rich kids were convinced you were a bad person just because you got high 8 out of the 7 days of the week, dressed in black and liked to waste your money getting inked.

"what are you talking about?!" karina stammered, stumbling back as she grabbed wonyoung’s hand, who seemed ready to shrink behind her in panic. they both looked like dolls, dressed in couture clothing and expensive hair accessories.

you scoffed, the memory of what happened earlier still fresh. "don't play dumb with me," you shot back, eyes narrowing. "you're the one who threw food on the road to school from your little convertible. god, are you even intelligent enough to drive?!” karina’s face flushed with embarrassment, not thinking you would actually confront her like this, and for a moment, she looked like she might deny it. but instead, she opened her mouth. "well, i guess i should have thrown it at you then, instead of the road, since you always like to be dirty, don’t you?” she laughed, looking down at your worn out shoes, which were sluthered with mud.

"dirty?" you cut her off with a bitter laugh. "you want to talk about dirty?" your voice dripped with sarcasm. "i’m not the one with half of the school’s dicks down my throat, while embarrassing myself chasing a guy who, the only thing he likes about me is fucking, because it’s the only time i will stop being annoying, how ‘bout that?”

“well, it’s a shame that you don’t have a face pretty enough to even attract a normal guy’s attention. i have seen you hanging around with those shaggy and dirty stoner animals from your old school you call men, having sex in the middle of an alley, all high and out of their minds, huh,” she insisted, pointing at you up and down.

“you’re so full of shit karina, and it’s sad. as if you’d ever find someone that actually likes you, to listen to you talk for more than ten minutes.” you threw her a pitiful look. the students around you shifted uncomfortably, some of them glancing at each other as the tension in the air grew thicker. wonyoung, still holding onto karina’s hand, looked like she was about to step in, but karina pulled her back. “i don’t care what you think, i’m rich, i’ve got tons of friends and i’m pretty, and you have always been jealous of me, just what is your problem?”

you stepped closer, your gaze never leaving hers. “like i care about your dad’s money wash karina, don’t get too carried away, it takes more than money to make someone feel less than you,” you smirked, looking at her up and down. you stepped dangerously closer quickly, making her stumble back once again and shriek, gripping onto wonyoung’s arm even stronger.

“but it will pay your facial reconstruction bill if you keep fucking with me, got it?” you said quietly, but with a force that made the words hit harder than anything else. before she could snap back, wonyoung pulled at her sleeve, whispering something in her ear. karina hesitated, then exhaled a long breath. she wasn’t stupid, karina has seen what ‘kinds of people’ you hang out with, and how bad the other person gets out of a fight with you, she was always quick to insult you, but never to continue fully.

"okay, fine. you want to clean your little tricycle?" karina said, trying to act nonchalant, taking out a huge bill from her purse. "here, i don’t care, just go back to where you came from." you took the bill karina handed out harshly, splitting it in right in the middle, making her gasp, and look at the money falling on the ground, feeling totally humiliated.

not saying anything else, you turned back and mounted the motorcycle again, revving it in a way for the students around to step back, and open way for you to continue your morning, not daring to get in your way. you sped off, the roar of your bike fading into the distance of the parking lot. the boys lingered for a moment before finally making their way over to karina and wonyoung, concern written all over their faces. "you girls alright?" sunghoon asked, glancing at both of them.

karina shot him a frustrated look, her arms still crossed defensively. "yeah, whatever. i'm fine," she muttered, though her voice was tight. wonyoung stayed quiet, looking more shaken than usual, as if still processing the encounter.

the boys exchanged a few more words of reassurance, but heeseung barely heard them. his mind was miles away, consumed by the memory of you. your sharp words, your defiant stance, the way you’d made it clear you weren’t to be messed with. he couldn’t shake the image of you. he couldn’t let it go. not now. heeseung was used to being in control, used to getting what he wanted without a second thought. but you, you were different. there was something about you that made him want to find out more, something about the way you handled the whole situation that had him itching to confront you, face-to-face, but he knew he couldn’t, not unless he wanted to hear karina yell at him nonstop in a fit of jealousy.

"you good, man?" jake's voice broke through his thoughts, and heeseung looked up, blinking. "yeah," he said, trying to shake off the feeling. but deep down, he knew he wasn’t really fine.

as the day went on and classes shifted, lunch break came to an end, and before long, it was time for the dreaded calculus class. you sauntered to your seat at the back of the classroom, right by the window, and dropped into the chair. with a bored sigh, you pulled out your phone, scrolling through it without a care, eyes barely glancing up. it was weird seeing you stick around this long on a school day. usually, you’d slip out early or roll in late, and no one ever said a word. you never had too many absences, always acing every exam. and for that reason, the teachers didn’t question it, because you had this way of making it look effortless, like the rules didn’t even apply to you.

as the class dragged on, something landed softly on your desk, just a small note. you glanced over and saw the girl next to you, the one with the big round glasses, her eyes wide with nervous energy. the second you looked her way, she flinched, shrinking back into her seat. she quickly pointed to the guy sitting next to her, her face practically pleading for you to read whatever nonsense he’d scribbled.

you gave him a weird look, your brow raised in silent confusion, before you slowly unfolded the note, your fingers moving deliberately as if you had all the time in the world. it read, ‘what do you think you’re doing? why did you copy off of me on the exam?’

you snorted at the message, and instantly, the memory hit you. it was the first time you’d let yourself go, forgetting about grades, staying way too long at some random house drugging yourself with something new, until blackout, two days away from home in your ride. you hadn’t made it back in time to study, so you did what you had to do. you texted a contact at school to get you the test. lucky for you, he knew someone in your class who had managed to steal the cheat sheet, and just like that, you had it in your hands.

‘none of your business’ you wrote back, your fingers moving quickly as you folded the note and slid it over to the girl. she hesitated for a second, then took it from you, passing it to him discreetly like it was some kind of underground deal.

a few moments later, the note came back to you. you unfolded it, and your eyes scanned the words. ‘you have to admit you cheated off of me, i’m risking expulsion.’ as if you actually gave a damn about his risk. you shot him a cold glance, then made a subtle motion with your hand, signaling for him to follow you out of the classroom, while you carried your belongings, not planning on returning.

after a few seconds, he finally slipped out of the classroom, meeting you in the empty hallway. "hey, so i really need you to admit you cheated off of me, i could get suspended, even expelled, and i'm not willing to take that kind of punishment for you," he started, his voice full of desperation. but you didn’t let him finish. you raised a hand, cutting him off, and his words trailed off as he stood there, waiting for you to say something.

"i’m sorry, who even are you?" you asked, shaking your head, genuinely confused. "i’m still trying to figure out why you think i’d ever admit to cheating on a test for you." your voice was casual, like the whole situation didn’t even faze you.

"because you did," he said, his tone dripping with self-righteousness. "it’s the right thing to do. you need to get suspended for cheating off of me." he smirked, as if he was the one holding all the power now. "and if you don’t, i’ll just tell them i caught you fucking someone in the bathroom for the test answers or something. you wouldn’t want that, would you?" that made you laugh.

"okay, listen, mr. whoever-you-are," you said, raising an eyebrow, "i’m not doing shit for you. after all, it’s my word against yours, which i’m guessing doesn’t mean much, considering you're the one getting blamed for cheating." you leaned in, a smirk playing at your lips. "and as for the fucking thing? i’ve been caught plenty before. the worst they’ll do is throw me in detention. so go ahead, do as you please." you poked his shoulder, the gesture almost mocking. he stood there for a second, his smile fading as he processed what you'd said. you could tell he wasn't used to being called out like that, or having the cards reversed, but then he leaned in, his voice lowering, like he was trying to pull some kind of play.

"you know," he said, his tone smooth, "a pretty girl like you... you don't really want to be known as the one who got away with cheating. people would start talking, saying you’re not enough for a school like this, wouldn't they?" he stepped closer, his eyes scanning you like he was sizing you up, "but hey, i get it. you don't want to get caught up in more drama. maybe i can help with that... if you just admit it was you."

this couldn’t be happening, you just wondered how in the world did this guy not know of your reputation, he was embarrassing himself so much at the moment. no boys in school got near you for that exact same reason, and here he was, thinking he could word his way into manipulating you, as if you didn’t know how to play your own game. you were known for being this maniatic crazy bitch with a motorcycle, who hang out with ‘lowlifes’, knew how to fight and that was only useful to get drugs from, also probably slept around with teachers because they didn’t think you’re smart enough to study. you’ve been told so many things, that what he said didn’t even bother you.

you rolled your eyes, clearly unimpressed. "oh, so now you're trying to play the good guy card?" you laughed dryly, leaning against the lockers. "nice try, but i'm not some stupid girl you can sweet-talk into doing something."

he chuckled, clearly not giving up. "come on, baby," he said, his voice turning smooth and almost coaxing, "we both know you like the thrill of a little risk. how about we make a nice deal, you admit it was you, and maybe we... hang out sometime. you know, just us. could be fun."

you raised an eyebrow, rolling your eyes again. "wow, really? you are so considerate of me, but no, i don’t want your reduce reuse recycled dick, i'm not interested."

he stepped closer again, trying to intimidate you, but you weren't moved. you just pushed him back with a lazy finger, eyes never leaving his. "you clearly don’t know what you’re doing, or even how to talk to me," you said, voice dripping with mockery. "i'm not impressed. i’ve seen your type a hundred times. and it's honestly fucking pathetic."

he frowned, his jaw tightening, but you didn't care. you weren't here for his tantrums. "seriously, you think this is gonna work on me?" you continued, your voice low and sharp. "you're the one who's gonna look stupid if you keep pushing this. i'm not gonna admit. and if you keep threatening me, we can always settle this another way, i’m sure you know how to fight with those big boy muscles right?" you squeezed his arm, making heeseung shudder, almost feeling a tingle.

you turned to leave, tossing him a final glance over your shoulder. "good luck, though," you added, your voice flat. "i'm sure your suspension month will be really fun." you tossed over your shoulder, voice dripping with sarcasm. "but don't worry, you probably already have a few girls your way to help you feel validated and accompanied."

heeseung just stood there, watching you leave and soon disappear onto another hallway, probably escaping classes. but that did not worry him, we couldn’t let himself worry over a girl like you. you would clearly never fall for his words. guys like heeseung, we’re almost like easy prey for you. too weak and easy, thinking they dominated the whole world, fucking around with girls, throwing massive parties and golfing every sunday with their dad. when in reality they probably didn’t know how to unclog a toilet.

they pissed you off so much, he pissed you off, and now your day was ruined. so almost two hours later, you found yourself on a complete different town to the south, entering an worn out house, kicking the door open. the house brought back many memories, too many. from when you lived here, and not back with your father, in a place you didn’t belong.

"who's here?" a slurred voice called from the kitchen, barely cutting through the thumping music. the place reeked of stale smoke and something sharper, like bleach or chemicals. dim, flickering lights barely illuminated the clutter, casting long shadows over cracked furniture and empty beer cans. scattered on the floor were people, sprawled in various stages of oblivion, some twitching, others motionless, all trapped in their own haze. the walls, stained and peeling, seemed to pulse with the low vibrations of the bass, as if the house itself was barely holding it all together. the house which was previously your mother’s, was now just a usual abandoned place that your friends utilized to hang out in.

"damn, this place is a mess. why didn't you wait for me?" you muttered, stepping into the kitchen. your friends were slouched around a grimy breakfast table, barely looking up as one of them finished snorting white lines off the edge. the counter was littered with crumpled pink blunt wrappers.

"yo! gigi, stop the music!" yeonjun shouted, sniffling as he shot up from his seat, stumbling a bit before he lurched forward to hug you. he almost tripped over his own mismatched-socks covered feet, but when he finally reached you, he inhaled deeply, as if your scent, clean and free of any substances, was a breath of fresh air in the chaos of the room. his grip tightened for a moment, his eyes flickering with a mix of relief.

"i’m not your bitch," giselle muttered, rolling her red-ish eyes as she leaned over to turn down the blaring music. her long acrylic nails clicked sharply against the plastic radio, the sound cutting through the tension in the room. she barely looked at yeonjun as she did it, her expression more annoyed than anything else.

you laughed at her comment, shaking your head, and then moved to hug her, pushing yeonjun off you in the process. he stumbled back, slightly irritated but too dazed to really react, while giselle’s stiff posture softened just a little as you wrapped your arms around her. her eyes flickered with something close to annoyance, but there was a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. you pulled away from giselle, giving her a teasing look. "so, what's the plan for tonight?" you asked, shifting your attention to the other strangers in the room, as they lazily got back to their own little worlds. yeonjun was still rubbing his nose, barely paying attention, while giselle just shrugged, taking a drag from her cigarette before flicking it into an ashtray.

“we’re hitting that party in the hill later,” she said, her voice flat but laced with anticipation. "gonna get crossfaded, maybe do a little more. jay’s been asking about you non-stop, by the way." she giggled. you raised an eyebrow at that, crossing your arms. "jay?" you repeated, a little surprised. you didn't think he’d be the type to obsess over anything, let alone you. "what does he want with me?"

she leaned back in her chair, a mischievous glint in her eye. "he’s obsessed you and your dumb tattoos. that night you two spent together? yeah, he can’t stop talking about it.” she paused, letting the words hang in the air like a secret. “guess he’s got a thing for you.”

you snorted, leaning against the counter, trying not to let it bother you too much. it was funny, people you’ve slept with always seemed to fixate on your exterior. but jay? he was a different story. you didn’t really care about whatever weird little crush he might have, though. he was now from a different crowd, and would never cross that line to be with you.

“he does know i changed schools right?” you said. your new school was a whole different world, elite, private, a playground for the wealthy and connected. kids with silver spoons, flashy cars, and tailored suits. a lot of them were insufferable, like karina, but you didn’t mind. it was easy to stand out, to be yourself in a place where most people just followed the rules. since your mother disappeared and your dad took you back, you’ve been placed in a world you don’t belong, and clearly don’t mind not belonging.

they had their porsche, you had your r7. they had private security, and you had your little hello kitty knife. but here, with giselle and the others? it was different. a lot more laid-back, the students knew how to have fun without all the airs and graces of your new world. they were down to earth, fun, and honest, none of the pretentious bullshit that came with being surrounded by rich kids. they had their flaws, sure, but you loved hanging out with them. it was like coming back home after a long trip to a hotel casino, where everyone was more concerned with status than actually living.

giselle noticed the shift in your mood and grinned, as if reading your thoughts. "i know, i know," she said, her voice softened, almost sympathetic. "but, hey, you're still cool with us. we don’t care about your new rich kid school. we’re just down for a good time."

"yeah, alright. i’m down. just don’t expect me to get too crazy, my dad’s expecting me before five am, he knows how shit goes here,” you let out a quiet sigh, glancing over at yeonjun who was now half-focused on his phone, tapping away furiously with his thumb. "so, i’m guessing you’ve already got the stuff lined up for tonight?" you asked, a smirk tugging at your lips.

he looked up at you, still slightly dazed, and nodded. "yeah, i texted my guy next door. he’s got everything we need. should be ready by the time we leave."

“don’t worry, i’ll go,” you didn’t need to ask twice. despite your better judgment, you were already used to this kind of thing. you pushed off the counter, giving giselle a nod. "i’ll be back in a minute, you both stop inhaling shit and try to sober up, i’m not a babysitter," you said casually, already walking toward the door.

"take your time, don't get too caught tho," she called after you, voice almost playful, but with that edge of concern. the door slammed shut behind you, and you stepped out into the cold evening air. it wasn’t far, the dealer’s place was literally next door, tucked behind a run-down convenience store that no one seemed to go into.

the door to the small house was already cracked open when you arrived. you knocked lightly, stepping back to make sure no one would spot you. a moment later, a guy with messy hair and a hoodie poked his head out, his eyes scanning you quickly before he motioned for you to come in. "yo, what’s up?" he greeted, his tone laid-back but sharp, like he had done this a thousand times before

“yeonjun sent me," you said, slipping inside. you didn’t need to say much, his face lit up as soon as you mentioned the name. yeonjun was a regular here, always popping in for one thing or another. the guy didn’t ask too many questions, which was fine by you. "right, right," he said, disappearing into a cluttered room at the back. you heard the rustle of plastic, the clink of glass. he returned with some small bags of pills in his hand, sliding them across the counter. "this should be good for the night. tell yeonjun he owes me. i threw a little present in there for you, pretty."

you nodded with a smile, taking the bag, your fingers brushing against the cool plastic. it was always the same, but you still hated the feeling of this whole transaction, sketchy, rushed. "thanks," you muttered, seeing a little extra, and slipping the bags into your jacket pocket before heading back toward the door.

"catch you later," he called after you, and you didn’t bother to respond.

as you headed back toward the house, the night started to feel more like a blur of its own, the sun setting into a canvas of dark and light colors.

when you pushed the door open again, giselle was already eyeing you, her arms crossed and a smirk playing on her lips. "got it?" she asked, and you gave a quick nod. "yeah, we’re good to go," you said, tossing the bags onto the table where yeonjun had plopped back down. he gave you a lazy thumbs up.

the party was exactly what you’d expect from a house like this, small, run-down, but buzzing with an energy that could only come from a group of teenagers living for the night. the kind of place where people got high, drunk, and fucked without any care in the world. the walls were covered in posters and graffiti, the floors littered with empty bottles and crumpled cans. music thudded through cheap speakers, competing with the chaotic chatter and the occasional shout of someone daring someone else to do something ridiculous or threatening to start a fight.

when you, yeonjun, and giselle arrived, the front door was wide open. keeho was standing there, practically bouncing with excitement, already tipsy from whatever he’d been drinking. his hair was an absolute mess, eyes slanted and tired-looking, and he had lipstick stains all over his neck, but his grin was infectious as he waved you over.

“yo, rich girl! you made it!” he exclaimed, his voice a little slurred, and he pulled you all in for a quick, sloppy hug. "was starting to think you forgot about me, we gotta get you three started!" without missing a beat, keeho grabbed a half-empty bottle of cheap vodka from the floor and shoved it into your hands, urging you to take a swing. his laugh was loud and carefree, and it felt like you were already swept into the madness. you hesitated for a second, but then shrugged and tipped the bottle back. the burn of the alcohol hit the back of your throat, sharp and bitter, but it didn’t matter.

giselle grinned and knocked back her own drink, wiping her mouth as she handed the bottle to yeonjun, who eagerly took a swig, his eyes already glazed over. keeho’s grin only widened, as if he had orchestrated some kind of victory. “hell yeah, let’s go!”

you all pushed past him into the house, the noise of the party almost overwhelming at first. in the main room, there were already people sprawled on couches, a couple of them making out in the corner, while others lounged around in various states of intoxication. the air was thick with the scent of weed and sex. “okay, so, knowing you yeonjun, hotboxing only in the basement bathroom, i don’t want to repeat what happened last month in my room,” keeho turned to your group with a serious face all of a sudden. yeonjun rolled his eyes and started arguing, and giselle joined in, making you leave the scene relentlessly.

as you wandered further into the house, you spotted jay almost immediately. he was leaning against the wall, a drink in his hand, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. the second he saw you, his entire demeanor changed, his gaze locked onto you with a sharp intensity, like you were the only person in the room. you couldn’t help but notice it. there was something almost obsessive in the way he watched you, his lips curling into a small but knowing smile. you weren’t sure if he was just drunk or if it was something more, but you knew he wasn’t just here for a good time. he was here for you.

“hey,” jay said as you approached, his voice low and a little too eager, like he was trying to hide just how much he wanted to pull you into his orbit. “glad you showed up. i wasn’t sure if you would.”

you raised an eyebrow and took the drink from him, taking a sip, already sensing the weird energy from him. "you act like i'm some kind of mystery," you said, your tone light, but there was a hint of warning in your voice.

jay just laughed, though it sounded a little nervous. he shifted, trying to get closer, but you didn’t exactly encourage it. "no, no. i mean, i was hoping you’d show up," he said, clearly not even noticing how desperate he sounded. "i don’t know. i just... i couldn’t stop thinking about you." his words hung there in the air for a moment, too heavy for what was supposed to be a casual conversation. you glanced away, trying to shake the awkwardness of it. he was just supposed to be a random hook up, and now he was obsessed.

"yeah, i’m too sober for this, i need a minute," you cut him off, shrugging his hand away, your tone sharper than you intended. the last thing you wanted right now was another round of jay following you around again. you managed to slip into the bathroom, the noise of the party muffled behind you. the moment the door clicked shut, you let out a sigh of relief, leaning back against the door for a second, trying to shake off the weight of jay’s attention.

reaching into your pocket, you pulled out your phone, hoping for a distraction. you had been waiting on a text from your motorcycle repair center all night, hoping they'd finally gotten back to you about the part you needed. just as you started scrolling through your messages, trying to ignore the distant thumping of bass and the muffled laughter from outside, you heard the bathroom door creak open behind you. before you could even turn around, you felt a hard bump against your shoulder, someone colliding with you unexpectedly.

"hey!" the voice was sharp, and the tone was ready to unleash a curse. but then, the voice shifted, a more amused, almost playful note creeping in. "wait, hold up, you're cute."

you blinked, turning to face the girl who had crashed into you. she was standing there, eyes still wide with what could’ve been irritation, but her lips were curled into a smirk now. she looked like she was about to say something more, but the words faltered when she took another quick look at you. she was a couple of inches shorter than you, her dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail, with eyeliner that looked like it had been hastily done, smudging a little at the edges. she wore a worn-out band tee, black jeans, and had that 'i don’t care' attitude.

you raised an eyebrow, still holding your phone, but not making any immediate movement. "thanks," you said dryly, not sure if she was being sarcastic or genuine. “ryujin,” she continued, “and you are?”

“y/n, y/n l/n,” you introduced yourself, almost sounding too righteous.

“you good y/n?” she asked, her voice almost too soft, the kind of softness that could break you without a word. “fuck no, i lost my friends and i need to get high right now,” you laughed, running your hand through your hair.

“oh really?” before you could respond, ryujin was already in front of you, close enough that you could smell the alcohol on her breath, feel the heat radiating off her body. “i can help with that,” she whispered, and there was something about the way she said it that made your pulse spike. she was clearly offering something more than simple. she was offering you something you hadn’t tried before.

she reached into her pocket, pulling out something small, a needle. you froze, your chest tightening, but the pull was still there. you weren’t thinking. you were just so desperate, it would happen again, you would take something from a random hot person. the needle gleamed in her hand, sharp and cold under the dim lighting. you didn’t need to ask what it was, she didn’t need to explain. you could already feel it, the ache of wanting something to take you somewhere else, to make this noise in your head stop. you were sick of it.

her eyes flicked to yours, dark and knowing, like she could see straight through you. "you sure?" she asked, but there was no question in her voice. it was more like a dare. your breath hitched, your heartbeat louder than the music. you looked at her, and for a split second, everything felt still. her eyes held you captive, like she was waiting for you to decide whether to break or not. and then, without saying anything, you nodded.

she didn’t hesitate. one swift motion, and the needle was at your arm. the sting was sharp, more real than anything you’d felt. the rush of it hit you instantly. a sudden heat spread through your veins, like fire lacing under your skin. the world around you blurred, the noise fading into the background. you felt something.

it was almost too much to handle, too quick. your body jolted with the rush of it, the sense of floating, of being untethered from everything. and then, before you could even catch your breath, ryujin was kissing you. it was hard, messy, raw. her lips were insistent, pulling you deeper into the chaos, as if she was swallowing every ounce of your pain. it wasn’t gentle, it was desperate. like she wanted to take everything from you and leave you empty, but at the same time, filled.

you kissed her back, caught in the haze, your body responding before your mind could catch up. the high was creeping in fast, too fast, but it felt good. it felt like everything was finally softening, the noise, the pressure, the expectations, all of it was dissolving with every second that passed.

when she finally pulled back, you were breathless. the world was spinning, but in a way that felt almost right, like you weren’t out of control, but floating in some kind of blissful wreckage. “that’s better,” she whispered, her voice low, smoky, and satisfied. “kissing makes you not feel how much this bitch hurts,” she laughed “or so i’ve been told.”

you just stared at her, too buzzed to say anything, but feeling a kind of calm you hadn’t known in what felt like forever. the pain was gone now, swallowed by the buzz, the heat, and the way she looked at you. like you were both on the edge, and neither of you cared whether you fell off. the rush from the needle still pulsed through your veins as you stepped out of the bathroom, feeling a bit unmoored, like your body was drifting through space. the party felt louder, the music a distant thump in your chest. everything was hazy, like you were floating, and the crowd around you seemed to blur, their faces indistinct. you were just moving.

without thinking, you found yourself at the center of the living room, where bodies pressed against each other, the air thick with sweat and smoke. you let the beat pull you in, letting go of the last vestiges of control. you didn’t care anymore, about anything, anyone. you just moved, your body responding to the rhythm like it had a life of its own, and for the first time tonight, you felt alive.

you danced with strangers, faces you didn’t recognize, their hands on your hips or shoulders, the energy bouncing between you all like an electric current. their movements were reckless, free, and somehow, it felt like you belonged here, in the middle of this mess. the high made everything feel vivid. intense. like every touch, every glance was magnified.

a guy leaned in close, his breath warm on your neck. you didn’t pull away, letting him get close enough to whisper in your ear. you could barely understand what he was saying, but his hands were on your waist, tugging you closer. you let him, lost in the sensation of being wanted, of not caring what anyone thought. your body was moving like it was made for this chaos. you didn’t think. you just felt.

the music shifted, the bass pumping harder, and for a moment, everything became a blur of neon lights and sweaty bodies, spinning like a dizzying cyclone. you let yourself get swept up in it, lost in the noise and the movement, until you couldn’t keep up anymore. the energy in your legs started to fade, your body heavy and tired. you were buzzing too much to care, but eventually, your feet were no longer dancing, just shuffling you toward the edge of the room.

you stumbled to a couch, sinking into the cushions with a long, relieved sigh. the room around you seemed to shift, the music muffled now, everything distant, like you were underwater. you tried to keep your eyes open, but the pull of exhaustion was too strong. you just couldn’t fight it.

your head sank into the back of the couch, and in a matter of seconds, you were out, completely, utterly gone. the noise of the party continued around you, but you were far away now, floating in the quiet of your mind, somewhere where nothing could touch you. the high, the spinning, the chaos, it all faded to a distant hum. you were weightless, drifting in nothingness, as everything slipped away.

you woke up the next morning to the harsh sound of someone shouting, the words barely making sense at first. “everyone get up and get the hell out!” keeho’s voice rang through the room, piercing the fog of sleep that still clung to you. blinking, you squinted at the blinding light creeping through the window, the ache in your head reminding you of just how much but so little had happened the night before. and you tried to suppress the feeling of vomiting.

you barely had time to process everything when keeho appeared at the door, his eyes wide in sudden panic when he saw you sitting there, a disheveled mess on the couch. “wait... you’re here? yeon and gigi were crazy looking for you last night,” he stammered, clearly flustered. you could tell he hadn’t noticed you before, hadn’t realized you’d passed out here.

“yeah, i think someone gave me dope, ‘m not sure,” you muttered, trying to shake the sleepiness from your mind. “could use some clothes though. i didn’t exactly plan on crashing here and i gotta get my ass to school or my father will actually kill me.”

keeho nodded quickly, his face flushing in embarrassment as he glanced around the room like he didn’t know where to look. “yeah, yeah, no problem. i’ve got some stuff, just go to my room. there’s a drawer with girl clothes from... you know. just grab whatever.” he gestured to the hallway.

you stood up, a little unsteady on your feet, and made your way toward his room. it wasn’t far, but the house felt like a maze now, the remnants of last night’s chaos still hanging in the air. the stale scent of alcohol and smoke clung to everything, and you could hear people stirring, mumbling groggily as they shuffled about, trying to piece together the aftermath of whatever they did.

keeho’s room was a mess too, clothes and half-empty bottles scattered across the floor, papers crumpled on his desk. you spotted the drawer he mentioned and pulled it open. inside, there were a mix of clothes, some definitely not your style.

you pulled out a small crop top, the fabric soft against your skin as you slipped it on. the shirt hugged you in just the right way, but the way it exposed a sliver of your tattoos on your side gave you an odd sense of power. something about the ink on your skin made you feel more present, more you, even in the haze of everything that had gone wrong in the last month, not listening to your brain. you quickly grabbed a pair of athletic shorts from the drawer, the fabric light and comfortable, though they were a bit tight on your hips. it didn’t matter. you weren’t here to impress anyone.

you didn’t know what you were expecting to feel in that moment, but it certainly wasn’t this. it was a weird mix of exhaustion and emptiness, and so thirsty. but at least you weren’t in yesterday’s clothes. stepping out of the room, you took a deep breath, preparing to face the aftermath.

keeho was still in the living room, shouting at people to get out, his tone half-annoyed, half-caring, like he was trying to maintain some level of order in the madness. he saw you and gave you an awkward wave. “yo, you good?” he asked, trying to act casual.

“yeah, just tired,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “where’s the exit?”

keeho pointed to the door and went back to yelling at whoever was still sprawled on the couch. you weren’t in the mood for much interaction. just get out. get back to the north. you walked toward the door, weaving through the mess of bodies and vomit. the cool morning air hit you as soon as you stepped outside, the bright sun already making the world feel like it had reset itself. everything was sharp, clear. the chaos of the night felt distant now, as if you were waking up from a bad dream.

you tried not to think about it as you walked away from the house, the reality of last night still buzzing in your head. you pulled out your phone and called an uber, the cool screen a brief distraction from the foggy mess of your mind. as you waited for it to arrive, you kept thinking about the night. about the haze, the people, the weird feeling of everything slipping through your fingers. you needed to forget it, or at least stop accepting drugs from friendly girls in bathrooms, you had to stick to smoking-only, or your body would end up on the cover of a newspaper with a bad name. you slid into the back of the car when it arrived, the familiar hum of the engine lulling you into a kind of dull trance as you made your way back to the city.

the ride was quiet, a smooth hum of traffic and soft music in the background. it didn’t take long to get back to the luxurious academy, but as you stepped out of the car and walked through the heavily guarded gates, you could feel the eyes on you. people were already filing into the backyard tables for lunch, and you were late, again.

you didn’t care, though. you didn’t care about anything right now. the school was a blur of clean clothes and sharp faces, everyone looking polished and perfect, the exact opposite of how you felt and looked. you ignored the stares, walking past a couple of your classmates who were giving you the side-eye, their whispers barely audible over the din of voices. but you could feel the weight of it. the judgment. the fact that you weren’t exactly like everyone else here, and they knew it.

you made your way to the lunch hall, where your only acquaintance was already sitting, glancing up as you walked in. chaeryeong’s eyes flickered between you and the time. you slid into the seat across from her, barely noticing the food she'd saved for you. you didn’t have the energy for the usual small talk or the smiley faces she always wore.

“are you okay, y/n?” chaeryeong asked softly. you still couldn’t figure out why she stuck around. maybe it was because you’d protected her in some way, kept her safe from karina and her ridiculous mean girl act. chaeryeong was too kind, too good-hearted. she didn’t deserve any of that. you nodded without thinking, just going through the motions. you took a bite of the sandwich, but the food was tasteless, like everything else was. somewhere deep down, you knew you had to get your shit together, but for now, it was easier to keep pretending that everything was fine.

the real reason why you started being even more reckless than before was simple. you missed her. and you hated yourself for it, for missing your mother, the one who abandoned you a year and a half algo. a part of you wanted to believe this was all a plan for you to move in with your rich father and get yourself a place in society, but deep down you knew she found another family with one of the hundreds of men she slept with every night to be able to pay rent. not like you were actually hurt, though. everything you did, every choice you made, was for her. you liked to think she was in a better place now, not living off of selling herself. in your mind, you had to be your best version, just for her. not for that father you have, which was the first one to actually leave, after hearing the news of your mother being pregnant with you. but karma got him, and now he was stuck with you.

he just lets you be, lets you invite your friends over and make a mess. after all, he has maids to clean up after you. but you weren’t about to be that much of a burden, which is why you pushed yourself to excel academically. your mother always said, ‘every single person is a nobody, no matter how rich or poor. the only thing that makes us different is our drive to be better for ourselves.’

you stand up abruptly, pushing your chair back with a little too much force. "i'm going for a smoke," you mutter, barely looking at chaeryeong. before she can say anything and tell you how drugs are ruining you, you’re already heading out of the cafeteria, your steps quick and determined. you make your way to your locker, your fingers fumbling slightly as you pull out a couple of blunts, the familiar smell of them grounding you.

sliding past the neat hallways, you cut through the back of the school, where the gym equipment is stored, away from the eyes of teachers and nosy students. it’s quiet here, the air thick with the scent of rubber and old wood. you light up without hesitation, the first drag hitting your lungs like a small relief. for a moment, it's just you, the world outside fading into the background. you then take a slow hit, the smoke filling your lungs again, and for a second, it feels like everything slows down. you exhale, watching the thin trail of smoke twist and curl in the air before disappearing. the taste is bitter, but it doesn’t matter. it’s the quiet and that’s important right now.

until it wasn’t. from the corner of your eye, you catch movement, footsteps crunching against the gravel. you look up, and there he is, the guy from yesterday. the same cocky grin, the same aura of someone who’s too used to getting what they want. he was dressed in a faux-fur jacket.

“what the hell…” you watched him get closer, his nose slightly scrunching at the smoke coming out your mouth.

"looks like we started on the wrong track," he says, leaning against the chain-link fence with that insufferable smirk still on his face. "name’s heeseung," he adds, like you should be impressed.

you blink, connecting the dots in your head. heeseung. the rich kid. the usual playboy. and then, it clicks, he’s with karina. the thought hits you like a cold splash of water. of course. he’s here because of her. to bribe you, maybe, or to mess with you, make you look bad in front of everyone. you exhale, the smoke swirling between you as you size him up. "what d’ya want?" you ask, your voice flat, not bothering to hide the growing annoyance.

he wrinkles his nose, taking in the air like he’s just stepped into a dumpster. "really smells like shit here, and you look even worse," he says with a disgusted chuckle, glancing around like he’s considering whether or not to leave. you can’t help but laugh, the sound rough but genuine. ‘he really is a piece of work,’ you think, watching his discomfort. without missing a beat, you take another hit, leaning back against the wall as you blow out the smoke. "maybe it's just you," you say with a smirk, your voice teasing but cold.

heeseung raises an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that response, but you can see the hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. he’s not as untouchable as he thinks. heeseung’s eyes flicker down to your exposed arms and stomach, the tattoos that snake along your skin, and you catch the shift in his expression. he’s staring, but it’s not the way he was a second ago, this is different. "did those hurt?" he asks, his tone almost tentative, like he’s unsure if he should even ask. you raise an eyebrow, glancing at him like he’s just asked the dumbest question in the world.

you stare at him for a long second, then pull in a slow breath. "what do you think?" you say, deadpanning. "of course they did." he blinks, suddenly awkward, rubbing the back of his neck. "right. uh..." he trails off, his gaze flicking around like he’s trying to find something else to say.

"are you cold?" he asks finally, his eyes narrowing slightly at your lack of layers. you’re barely dressed for fall, your shirt thin and your shorts almost too small for the weather. the chill in the air seems to be getting to him more than it’s getting to you. you snort, the sharp edge of your laugh cutting through the tension. "worry about yourself," you mutter, pulling another drag. it’s not like you were cold, it’s more that you weren’t going to admit it to him.

he watches you for a moment, brow furrowed, clearly not buying it. his eyes flicker between your face and the way you’re standing. "yeah, okay," he says, though it sounds more like he's humoring you than agreeing. heeseung takes a step closer, his hands slipping into the pockets of his hoodie as he looks at you with a mix of concern and reluctance. "you know, if you really aren’t fine, i could always-“ he cuts himself off, glancing away for a second, as though considering something before shaking his head. "never mind. it’s not that cold anyway, right?"

“stop trying to make small talk, hedeun-“

“it’s heeseung,” he interrupted, visibly bothered at you getting his name wrong.

“it’s whatever, just tell me what you want, i don’t like spending much time with people like you,” you sighed. “what are you really here for?”

“i heard you sell,” heeseung started, making you let out a loud laugh. “if all you wanted was to smoke, you could’ve just asked me to share, i’m not a monster,” you extended your blunt towards him, but he declined. “i also heard about your mother, and about your old school, and everything about it,” he swallowed, nervously fiddling with his hands, contradicting with his harsh exterior. you raised an eyebrow, the edge of a smirk pulling at the corner of your mouth as you listen to him, the words rolling off his tongue with a strange mix of nervousness and something else, like he’s trying to explain himself but doesn’t really know how. it’s not exactly what you expected, but it’s almost worse.

"is that so?" you reply, voice flat but laced with a quiet venom. you cross your arms over your chest, leaning back slightly as if the conversation doesn’t deserve your full attention. "so, you did all this… research on me, huh? i bet everyone had a lot of nice things to say." it was a weird situation, when you changed schools, all the girls were all over you, excited for a new girl, but as soon as they saw who you were, they escaped, not wanting anything to do with you besides get some smoke and pills.

you couldn’t blame them, you didn’t want to hang out with them either. but karina stayed, until you made the ‘mistake’ of dating the guy she liked at that moment, and since then, she made the promise to destroy your life, if only she could even try.

he seems to falter under your gaze, his eyes dropping to the ground for a moment. "i just... i wanted to understand. i wasn’t trying to judge you or anything. i just..." he rubs his hands together, clearly uncomfortable. "i guess i just thought it’d make sense to know who you are before, well, before we talked again."

you can feel the sharpness in the air, his attempt at an apology or explanation almost laughable. you don’t need his pity. “so, you went and found out about me. what now?”

he looks up at you, a bit of guilt coloring his expression, but it’s hard to tell whether he’s more upset about the fact that you’re not impressed, or that his research didn’t give him the right answers. "i just-" he stops, rubbing the back of his neck again, looking more like a kid who’d gotten caught in a lie than a guy trying to make amends, secretly trying to manipulate you. "i didn’t mean to come off like that. i just... i don’t know how to read you."

your eyes narrow, sizing him up. "well, you can start by not making this about me. whatever you think you found out, that’s your problem." you tilt your head, voice going a little colder. "you’re not the first to assume shit about me. and everything i told everyone on this place about me, is barely the surface, so you can do with that what you want. but i’m not here for your guilt trip."

for a moment, it looks like he might say something else, but he just bites his lip instead, clearly unsure how to break through the wall you’ve just put up. and you’re fine with that. heeseung had no idea why you were being so hard. why he couldn’t get to you like he could with other girls. for some strange reason, he seemed drawn to you, almost as if you were here to save him from the horrible destiny that it is to be with karina. but you didn’t seem the slightest interested in him. and he hated that. he hated the fact that he felt like you were unconsciously pulling him in, but he couldn’t do the same to you.

only, that he could. and he was doing it. you could see it in his eyes, the sparkle for the unknown, you were almost an escapatory for him. from his rich kid, player, facade or maybe his own true personality. you felt the extreme change in demeanor he had since talking to you yesterday, after realizing you weren’t like the girls from his school. he seemed way more open today, and way more relaxed. but you weren’t about to be his little side distraction in his perfect, cushioned life. you weren’t just some novelty.

"good conversation, heeseung," you muttered, clicking your tongue as you stubbed out the blunt against the cement wall you were leaning on, then started to walk away. before you could get too far, you heard him call after you. "hey, wait up!"

you turned back to find a faint desperation in his eyes. "sunghoon's throwing a little something tonight, and i know you don’t usually hang with people like us, but you should come. we might need some of that stuff you’ve got." he gestured to the blunt in your hand. it was almost endearing, how he treated something so simple like it was a secret, like it was taboo. the gap between you two seemed clearer than ever.

“i’ll make sure to get you something good, i hope you can handle it,” you gave him a small smile. heeseung watched you walk away, the weight of your words hanging in the air between you. he was used to girls like karina, who flattered him, who followed him, who played by the rules of his world. but you? you were something else. something he couldn’t quite figure out. he didn’t know why, but something about you made him feel off-balance.

‘you’re not an escapade. you’re not just some distraction,’ he thought to himself, eyes narrowing in confusion. you’re different. something about you. you could ground him. he didn’t know what it was. it wasn’t just the exterior, the rough edges, or the way you didn’t give a shit about his family name or his money. it wasn’t just the way you made him feel like he wasn’t the center of the universe for once. it was everything. the way you looked at him, like he was nothing special, like he was just another guy in a long line of guys who thought they could buy their way into your life.

“but i’m not like them,” he whispered, his jaw tightening, for some reason, he felt as if your opinion about him mattered, as if it would validate him and differentiate him from everyone. his fingers itched as he replayed the way you shut him down, how you were so effortlessly cold, so indifferent to everything he usually took for granted. it drove him insane, but in a way that made him want more.

heeseung's thoughts were interrupted as he heard footsteps approaching. he turned, and there she was, karina, dressed in her usual sleek, effortless luxury. she was all polished skin, perfectly pressed clothes, and a kind of beauty that seemed more crafted than natural. every strand of her hair was in place, her makeup impeccable. she was the kind of girl who seemed born to be admired, the kind who could walk into a room and instantly own it with just a smile. "there you are, baby," she said, her voice smooth and warm, but with an edge of impatience. "i've been looking for you everywhere." her eyes flicked over him, a slight frown pulling at the corners of her lips, probably because she found him standing alone. she wasn't used to seeing him like that. the usual crowd of hangers-on was missing.

heeseung barely acknowledged her greeting, his mind still half on you, half on the uneasy tension you left behind. "yeah, here i am," he replied, his voice distant, distracted. karina raised an eyebrow, noticing his disinterest. “what's up with you? you look like you're a million miles away.” her tone was soft, but there was an undercurrent of concern, or maybe just curiosity. he wasn’t acting like himself, and karina was used to having his full attention.

heeseung felt the instant need to go back to his facade, and gave her a smirk. “i’m just thinking,” he shook his head. karina’s eyes narrowed slightly. "thinking about what?" she asked, as if she wanted to understand what had him in this strange mood he changed all of a sudden. he hesitated, looking off into the distance, towards the empty tennis courts. he didn’t want to bring you up, but something in him pushed him to. "actually," he started slowly, "i’ve been wondering... why do you hate that one girl, y/n, so much?"

karina’s eyes flickered briefly, a subtle shift in her expression that heeseung didn't miss. for a moment, he saw something, just a flash, of discomfort in her gaze, he had been around enough girls to start to notice things like this. it was fleeting, but it was enough to make him pause. she straightened, regaining her composure almost immediately, but he could tell. ‘she’s jealous,’ he realized. not just of you, but of the fact that he was talking to her about you. about you, and not her.

karina stiffened, but only for a second. the smile on her face didn’t falter. ‘it’s fine,’ she thought, ‘don’t overreact. he’s just talking about her because she’s interesting. he’s not actually...’ she couldn’t quite finish the thought. she didn’t want to risk making a scene, not when she was so close to keeping things exactly the way they were. she needed him. she couldn’t let you take him away from her. so she would do her best to portray you as someone horrible.

"i don’t hate her," she replied after a beat, her voice a little too controlled. "i just don’t get her."

heeseung raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by her attempt to deflect. "you’re not fooling me," he said, his tone soft but insistent. "you don’t like her. why?"

karina let out a quiet sigh, her gaze shifting down, away from his eyes. she was debating whether or not to say what was really on her mind. finally, she spoke, her voice low. "she just… waltzes into any group, any situation, with that awful motorcycle and a hand full of drugs, and everyone loves her. no effort. she doesn’t have to try. and i hate that."

heeseung frowned, confused. "what do you mean? i don’t get it."

karina’s eyes flickered with something darker now, the frustration seeping through her composed exterior. "i mean, i work for everything. i work for people’s approval, for their attention, for their affection. i have to try, i have to be the right kind of person, say the right things, look the right way. and then she shows up, all… whatever she is, and everyone just falls over themselves for that druggie. no trying. she doesn’t care about any of it, and still, she gets everything." her voice grew harder, colder, as if she was speaking from experience. "it’s like she doesn’t even have to try, and that’s what pisses me off."

heeseung couldn’t help but study her face, watching the jealousy simmer in her eyes. it was subtle, almost masked by her cool demeanor, but he could see it now, clear as day. karina was used to being the one people admired, the one people worked to impress. and you, someone who didn’t play by any of the rules, someone who didn't care, had that same magnetic pull, without any of the effort. and it bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

karina stiffened, her lips curling slightly. "that’s exactly the problem," she snapped. "she doesn’t belong here, and she thinks that just because her father finally acknowledged her, and suddenly she’s super rich, she can act however she pleases. but it’s not like that."

the thought made him uneasy, but he didn’t show it. instead, he shrugged, his gaze drifting back to where you had disappeared. "i don’t think it’s the money," he muttered, almost to himself. "i think she just is. and maybe that’s what makes her different."

karina didn’t respond. she simply stepped closer, closing the distance between them, but he could feel the slight shift in the air, the way her usual easy confidence had faltered, just a little. "whatever you say," karina finally said, forcing a smile back onto her face. "but just remember, she’s just a low life addict, that’s all she is, and will ever be. you don’t want to get too close to someone like that."

heeseung didn’t meet her eyes. instead, his gaze lingered on the spot where you had walked away, and the words from earlier replayed in his head, the ones that had stuck with him the most, ‘i hope you can handle it.’

later that night, heeseung found himself at sunghoon’s house, though his mind was somewhere else entirely. the mansion was alive with the thumping pulse of bass-heavy music, laughter, and the clink of bottles being passed around. it was the kind of party sunghoon always threw, lavish, high-energy, packed with people who were either too drunk to remember their names or too wealthy to care about anything else. people were dancing in the living room, some on the massive leather couches, others sprawled across the marble floors, playing some ridiculous drinking game. it was a familiar scene, people letting loose, showing off, and pretending to forget the rules for a few hours.

but none of that mattered to heeseung right now. he was standing off to the side, leaning against a wall, a drink in his hand but barely touching it. his mind kept drifting back to you, the way you’d walked off earlier, the way karina’s words had lingered in his head. there was something about you that gnawed at him, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight would be the night that would reveal something important.

he didn’t even know if you’d show up tonight, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. would you? would you show up, walk through the door with that effortless confidence, and completely flip the energy of the room without even trying? it wasn’t even about impressing people. it was the way you didn’t need to try. you just were. and it was like you could walk into any situation and make everyone else’s chaos feel like it was secondary to you.

he tried to shake it off, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check for something. nothing. his friends were blowing up the group chat, but none of it caught his attention. it was a flurry of photos, plans to leave with a girl, someone complaining about the music being too vulgar, but nothing about you, because you weren’t part of his life. maybe that’s why he kept looking around the room, scanning the crowd, hoping, wishing that you would suddenly appear, even though he knew he was being ridiculous. you probably wouldn’t even care about coming to a place like this. too many people trying to impress each other. too much pretending.

he threw back the rest of his drink on one of sunghoon’s exotic plants, setting the glass down on the nearest table, feeling his mind drift further from the party. he leaned against the wall again, the chatter and music blurring into the background, but his focus remained fixed on the front door. he kept wondering if you'd walk through it.

across the room, jake appeared, grinning wide, holding up two shot glasses. “heeseung! come on, man, stop moping in the corner and have some fun.” he raised his eyebrows, urging him over. heeseung waved him off, still distracted. “i’m good. just got a lot on my mind.”

“yeah? don’t let it ruin the vibe, dude. you’re at a party, not a therapy session.” jake clapped him on the shoulder and turned away to rejoin the crowd. heeseung’s eyes flicked over to the front door again, and he felt that familiar twist in his stomach. ‘she’s not coming,’ he thought, but the doubt lingered. the weird hope that maybe, just maybe, she would show up. ‘she doesn’t belong here, and she doesn’t want to belong here,’ he told himself. this world’s not your scene. but that thought only seemed to make him want to see you even more.

for a moment, he wondered why he cared so much. why was he fixated on whether you’d show up or not? it didn’t make sense. he barely knew you, and yet everything about you felt like a puzzle he had to solve. and now, standing in the middle of this extravagant, noisy party, he felt that pull again, the one that made him question everything, including himself.

he glanced at the door again, half-expecting to see you walk through, but nothing. just the same crowd of people, laughing and drinking, playing their games. maybe you didn’t care about these kinds of parties. maybe you didn’t care about any of this at all.

heeseung pushed through the sliding glass door that led to the backyard, escaping the chaos of the party. the cool night air hit him like a splash of water, and he took a deep breath, trying to clear his head.

the backyard was quieter, but his mind was still buzzing. he was leaning against the brick wall near the pool when he spotted karina on the other side of the yard. she was laughing, leaning into some guy with slicked-back hair, a smile too perfect to be genuine. the guy was clearly into her, his hand resting a little too comfortably on her waist, but karina didn’t seem to care. she was toying with him, teasing him, her eyes glancing over at heeseung for only a second, as if she was trying to make him jealous, but he wasn’t bothered.

heeseung didn’t care. not tonight. the sight of karina flirting with someone else didn’t stir anything in him. he didn’t even feel a spark of jealousy of that guy not being him. it was strange, but in the back of his mind, he kept thinking about you, about how you didn’t fit into this world at all, and yet, you seemed to have more of an impact on him than anyone else in the room.

he was about to turn back to search for jake, when the sound of raised voices cut through the air. it wasn’t just loud, it was intense.

he turned, his curiosity piqued, and followed the noise toward the front of the house. he didn’t know what was going on, but something told him it wasn’t good. as he rounded the corner, he saw the commotion, a guard-like guy, probably hired by sunghoon, was blocking the front door, holding his hand out like a wall. and there, standing just a few feet away from him, were you, fuming, your hands raised in defiance, and your expression unreadable but full of fire.

heeseung’s heart skipped a beat. he couldn’t believe it. you were actually arguing with the guy, not giving a damn about the way he stood there like he owned the door.

“i can’t let you in. you’re not on the list mr. park provided,” the guy was saying, his voice deep and dismissive, clearly not taking you seriously. you, however, didn’t care about his rules or his attitude. "i don’t care if i’m on that fuck-ass list or not, let me in," you snapped, leaning in so close your face almost brushed against his. "move out of my way before i make you."

heeseung watched, a little impressed, a little surprised at how you held your ground. you weren’t backing down for anything, no one was going to push you around. the guy was trying to reason with you, but you weren’t having it. before things could escalate, heeseung walked up, cutting through the tension with his calm presence. the guy looked at him with confusion, but heeseung ignored him, instead turning to you.

“hey,” he said, his voice cool but loud enough for you to hear over the noise. “it’s fine. let her in.”

you stopped, glancing up at him with a look of surprise in your eyes, like you hadn’t expected him to step in. but then your face softened slightly, and he gave a quick, almost imperceptible nod, signaling to the guard that it was okay.

"i said it’s fine," heeseung continued, keeping his gaze on the guy who was still hesitating. "she’s here with me."

the guard’s eyes flicked between you two, clearly unsure, but he finally backed off. “whatever,” he muttered, stepping aside. “but you’re on thin ice, lady.”

you didn’t even acknowledge the guy’s words. you turned without a second glance, and motioned for your friend to follow your lead. “gigi, let’s go,” you said, the confidence in your voice as clear as day.

heeseung blinked, surprised by the sudden appearance of the girl who had been standing quietly behind you the entire time, playing with her nails. you both were dressed in tiny dresses that revealed too much, clearly ready to go somewhere else after this. giselle wasn’t as loud or bold as you, but there was something in the way she carried herself with her salmon colored pin-straight hair and long nails, that suggested she was just as comfortable in her own skin. she followed you without hesitation, taking slow steps toward the door.

the two of you walked together like you didn’t even notice the opulence of the house, the flashy people, or the music blaring from inside. you seemed completely indifferent to the party scene, to all of it, and heeseung couldn’t help but admire it and wonder how had he not noticed you before. while everyone else was caught up in the noise, the drinking, the pretension, you and giselle were just there. not needing anything from this world. not caring about any of it. you only seemed to care about yourselves, about the quiet between you, and maybe that was the most fascinating thing about you.

heeseung was about to say something, but you didn’t even look back at him. instead, you pushed your way through the crowd with your friend, making your way to the kitchen without a second thought. he followed, but kept his distance, not wanting to intrude.

you weren’t here for the party. you were here for you, and he couldn’t help but wonder how long he could keep watching from the sidelines before he, too, would be drawn into whatever world you existed in.

“alright,” you sighed, taking a few small plastic bags from your bra, and a cigarette box. you weren’t any kind of professional underground dealer, but you were still cautious, if not, word would get to your father and it would be a mess.

“i got you, ice, it’s the powder by the way, i got molly, those pills with happy faces on them, and weed… oh, and we pre-rolled them for you, they’re kind of fat, i’m really nice like that,” you smiled at heeseung, seeing him stare at you.

“you good?” you asked, “i didn’t bring anything else, i don’t think you’d even know how to take it,” you stepped back, crossing your arms.

“oh, yeah, yeah, that’s good,” he shook his head, snapping out of his trance. “can i scan-pay you?” heeseung asked, realizing, of course, he didn’t have any cash on him.

“yeah, it’s alright,” you said, pulling out your phone and typing in an amount before switching to a qr code for him to scan. for a moment, you considered scamming him, but decided against it. it would’ve been easy, he didn’t even ask about the prices.

once the payment went through, you flashed a quick, satisfied smile back to giselle. you could already feel happier knowing you would get out of this mansion. as you began to turn away, heeseung’s gaze shifted, his eyes landing on someone across the room. “hold on,” he muttered, scanning the crowd. he spotted jungwon nearby, leaning casually against the wall, chatting with a few people. heeseung grabbed the bags from the counter and stepped over to him.

“hey,” heeseung called, catching jungwon’s attention. “take this to sunghoon, yeah?” he passed the items over, his tone nonchalant. jungwon raised an eyebrow, looking at the bags before meeting heeseung’s eyes. “man, the things you get yourself into for a girl.”

heeseung shrugged, offering a half-smile. “it’s for me. just get it to him. he’ll know what to do.”

jungwon gave him a nod, slipping the bags into his jacket pocket. “got it.”

heeseung’s eyes followed you and giselle as you made your way toward the door, his steps quickening as he caught up with you just before you reached the curb.

“hey, where are you two headed?” he asked, voice casual but with a hint of concern. you looked at him, a little surprised to see him following. “we’re going to the south,” you said, glancing at giselle. “there’s a car race. about half an hour away, and since i had to come all the way up here for you, we’re hoping to make it to the after party.”

heeseung nodded, his gaze lingering on you. “i’ll drive you,” he said, his tone suddenly firm. “we wouldn’t want you, both of you, getting into any trouble out here.”

you raised an eyebrow, skeptical, but too high to argue. you glanced at giselle, who was lighting another blunt, and let out a sigh. "fine," you said, already feeling the weight of the night catching up with you. "i’m not in the mood to call a cab and waste money." giselle shot you a look that was part judgment, part annoyance, but she kept quiet. you could feel her disapproval, but you were beyond caring at this point.

heeseung led the way, and you followed without a word. when you reached the driveway, your eyes widened slightly at the car parked there. heeseung’s car was a sleek, black sports car, the kind that turned heads without even trying. it was polished to perfection, the curves of the body glinting in the dim light of the streetlamp. it was the kind of car that screamed wealth, effortlessly.

“is this yours?” you asked, though you already knew the answer. it was the first time something he had impressed you. heeseung smirked as he opened the passenger door for you. “yeah. pretty sure it’s faster than any cab you’d get out here.”

you shook your head, sliding into the leather seat. giselle climbed in at the back, sitting with her arms crossed, clearly not impressed. she still had that cold, distant air about her when it came to heeseung and his “scrooge mcduck” world.

heeseung didn’t seem bothered. he slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and the low purr of the car’s power seemed to cut through the tension in the air. as he pulled out of the driveway, the smooth hum of the car filled the silence between you all.

it was an uncomfortable ride, but at least it was fast, and you weren’t wasting money on a cab. you stared out the window, the city lights blurring by, while giselle stared ahead, looking as unimpressed with heeseung and his world as ever. heeseung, on the other hand, kept his eyes on the road, his expression unreadable. the drive was smooth, fast. but even as he focused on the road, his mind kept drifting back to you.

he glanced over at you, your face illuminated by the streetlights, your expression unreadable. and for a brief second, he realized that he didn’t want this ride to end. he didn’t want to stop being close to you, even if just for a moment.

as you got closer to the south side, the vibe of the neighborhood started to change. heeseung could feel it in the air. the buildings were older, the streets narrower, the houses less pristine than the ones he was used to. the gleaming luxury of his own world felt miles away. his fingers tightened on the steering wheel as he took in the unfamiliar surroundings, a slight unease creeping in.

you glanced over at him, sensing the shift in his energy. “you okay?” you asked, eyes narrowing slightly as you noticed him tense up and grip the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. heeseung didn’t respond at first. he just kept driving, his gaze flicking between the rearview mirror and the unfamiliar streets. it was clear he wasn’t used to this. “yeah,” he said, his voice cool but there was something off about it. “just... not exactly my usual neighborhood.”

you gave him a knowing look, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “don’t worry,” you said, your voice light but with an edge of seriousness. “i’ll protect you, whatever happens pretty boy.”

heeseung shot you a glance, eyes flicking over to meet yours, before rolling his eyes. “i don’t need protection, thanks,” he muttered, but there was an almost imperceptible tension in his jaw that gave him away.

you could tell he was uncomfortable, and it wasn’t just the drive. his world and this one were different in every way, and he was out of his element, but you didn’t say anything. it was clear enough without needing to spell it out. heeseung took a turn down an alleyway, the pavement rough and uneven. he parked the car next to a few other vehicles, feeling the weight of the decision. the streetlights here weren’t as bright, and there was a certain stillness in the air that felt too quiet for comfort. his mind flashed briefly to the idea of getting robbed, but he pushed the thought away, shaking his head.

“don’t take it personally,” you said, reading his discomfort easily. you and giselle climbed out of the car, both of you moving with purpose. “come on,” you said, glancing back at him. “the after party’s just down the street.”

heeseung hesitated, but finally stepped out of the car. the low hum of the engine idled in the background, the sound of the city slowly creeping in around him. he walked behind you and giselle, trying not to seem too out of place as you led the way out the alley.

the party was just around the corner, and the closer you got, the louder the music became. from a distance, it looked like any other chaotic house party, but heeseung could sense the difference. the people were rougher, the energy sharper. it felt like a different world, one he had no real experience in. you shot him a glance over your shoulder as you reached the front door. “you’re fine,” you said, almost as if you were trying to reassure him, though you both knew there was no guarantee of that. you gave him a small smirk before pushing open the door.

heeseung paused at the threshold, looking around. this was a place where he didn’t belong, a world where people didn’t care about money or status. it was raw, unpredictable, and everything in him wanted to retreat, but something kept him standing there. you had pulled him into this world, whether he liked it or not. heeseung followed you and giselle into the backyard, where the atmosphere felt more relaxed, but still lively. the yard was filled with groups of people gathered around, casually chatting and laughing. the air was thicker here, filled with the mix of cigarette smoke and the low hum of music coming from the house.

heeseung couldn’t help but feel out of place as his gaze landed on two guys, who were lounging on a bench, laughing with a couple of girls. their casual demeanor was in sharp contrast to the tightly wound posture he’d been carrying since arriving. they noticed him immediately, their eyes flicking to him, then back to you and giselle. noting he was one of ‘yours.’

“girls, you bailed on us tonight,” keeho pouted.

“we told you we were going to sell at one of y/n new classmates party. your little suicide car race isn’t that important,” giselle rolled her eyes kicking keeho’s shin with her heel, making him hiss.

yeonjun raised an eyebrow and smirked at heeseung, who was still tense, and looked like a mannequin from a golf store. “yo, man, you look like you’re about to shit yourself already. what’s with the stiff face?” he asked, clearly amused by heeseung’s discomfort. keeho chuckled, looking at him with a knowing smile.

“you’re here with her, though,” keeho added, tilting his head in your direction. “so, you’re alright, huh? wasn’t expecting to see you here, rich kid.”

you laughed at his comment, taking giselle’s blunt and taking a drag out of it.

heeseung wasn’t sure how to respond. he wasn’t sure why he felt so out of place. it wasn’t like he had anything against the people here. still, he couldn’t shake the tension in his shoulders. “yeah, just not... used to this,” he muttered, glancing around at the unfamiliar scene.

you caught his eye, noticing the tension that still hadn’t fully left him. with a small grin, you spoke up, your tone light but firm. “don’t sweat it. i said i’d protect you didn’t i? you’re fine. just enjoy the night.”

yeonjun laughed and leaned back, gesturing to the people around him. “we’re bro’s, right? just have a good time. you’re with us now,” he said, his smile more welcoming than teasing.

you and heeseung exchanged a quick look, something unspoken passing between you before you broke the silence with a small smile. “want a drink?” you asked, your tone casual but with an undercurrent of something more, like you were offering him a way to settle in, just a little. heeseung hesitated, glancing around at the people milling about, some laughing, some lost in their own world. he still wasn’t quite comfortable, still felt like an outsider, but the offer was simple enough. he nodded slowly. “yeah. sure.”

you led the way over to a small table where drinks were being passed around, beer cans, a few bottles of cheap liquor, and what looked like a mix of makeshift cocktails. the scene felt different than the polished, curated parties he was used to. you grabbed a bottle of something brown and poured it into a plastic cup, handing it to him. “you’re unlucky, i don’t have any fancy cocktails,” you said with a half-smirk, leaning back slightly as he took the drink.

“thanks,” he muttered, eyeing the cup with a little wariness before taking a careful sip. it was strong. way stronger than he expected, and he quickly forced himself to swallow, trying not to show that it burned. heeseung took another drink, feeling the warmth spread through his chest as the alcohol hit him. the tension in his body started to loosen, but his mind kept swirling around the question that had been nagging him ever since you first crossed his path.

“why are you staying with me?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, a little more curious as you two settled down on two plastic chairs. “why not go back to your friends? seems like you’d rather be with them.” he watched you for a second as you absentmindedly looked around. for a moment, you didn’t answer, but then you met his gaze, your eyes soft and a little more open than usual, like you were letting him see something deeper.

“because i knew you wouldn’t feel comfortable by yourself,” you said casually, but there was something in your tone, something almost kind, that caught him off guard. you shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but he could tell it was, at least to you. heeseung blinked, surprised. he hadn’t expected that kind of answer. it wasn’t what he’d imagined, especially with how standoffish you'd seemed earlier. you weren’t trying to be here out of obligation, or to entertain some rich kid from the party.

and then, as the silence stretched on for a second, he noticed something in your manner. something that shifted, just a little. your body language had relaxed, your words were slower, more open. heeseung's gaze narrowed, and he took a longer look at you. “wait a minute,” he said, voice a little more cautious. “you’re high, aren’t you?” he laughed.

“yeah, i’ve been for the last ten minutes,” you admitted with a small laugh, your words softening at the edges. “it’s just the same thing i gave you, though. don’t get all worried on me.”

“so you’re... this you?” he asked, motioning vaguely to the two of you, to the situation, to everything happening around you. “not the one back at the school?”

you shrugged again, but this time it was more relaxed. “yeah, i guess so,” you said, eyes flickering away for a second, like you were deciding whether to share more or pull back. but then, you met his gaze again, almost like you were daring him to say something about it. “i thought i’ve always been me, but now that you mention it. i guess i kind of act with some sort of resentment to you guys,”

he took another drink, then looked at you, his voice softer this time. “why’s that?”

“hard feeling,” you said simply. “family things, but it’s all handled.” you lied, not wanting to open up to him completely yet. there was definitely a change in him, and you noticed it. and in his eyes you could see the slight desperation and need. it was his new demeanour that made him different. you couldn't explain, because words couldn't even clarify what was starting to lure you in.

“heeseung, seriously, i’m opening up to you, and you keep looking at me like you want to fuck,” you said out of nowhere. he instantly tensed up and looked away.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t realize,” he said. it was obvious he didn’t want you to think of him as a player anymore, he was actually trying to please you now. you let out a soft, teasing laugh, leaning back in your chair, knowing exactly what you were doing. you decided to play into his usual game just enough to give him a bit of satisfaction. "do you?"

heeseung immediately turned toward you, eyes widening in surprise as he caught the playful glint in yours. he knew exactly what you were hinting at, but he still tried to keep his cool, pretending to be unfazed. "huh?"

"do you… want to fuck?" you asked casually, watching him with a challenge in your eyes.

his breath caught for a split second, but he quickly composed himself. he opened his mouth, unsure of how to answer, and hesitated. "i… don’t know," he muttered, trying to play it safe, though his voice betrayed a slight crack of uncertainty. you couldn’t help but laugh softly, your head tilting back as you let out a short snort. you met his eyes again, smirking. "what do you mean you don’t know? is it really that hard to say what you want?"

heeseung shifted uncomfortably, clearly trying to play it cool, but the nervousness was obvious. and it was so very clear that he wanted it. he ran a hand through his hair, his gaze flickering away for a moment. "what even is your point y/n?"

you shrugged nonchalantly, your tone lighter now. "nothing, just asking."

after that night, things were different. heeseung wasn't the same. he wasn't playing games anymore, not the way he used to. it wasn’t like he’d suddenly become someone else, but around you, he changed. that distance he always kept, it started to shrink.

you could feel it in the way he acted, the way he’d look at you sometimes when you were talking in class or lunch with your friend, like he was listening for real and not just pretending. he was less guarded, more real with you.

you started meeting up behind the gym often. no one ever really saw you, and that’s how you both liked it. the air was always a little warmer there, the kind of quiet where you could actually talk. you’d smoke, and he’d sit with you, talking about everything and nothing at all. and even when the conversation would die down, there was this comfortable silence between you two. the kind that felt easy, like you didn’t have to fill every gap with words.

one day, he even just showed up at your door, standing there with his dad, holding a gift basket. you froze when you opened the door. heeseung, here, with his dad, visiting your dad. it was almost laughable. you never thought you’d see the day, but there he was, a little nervous, but still trying to act cool.

"uh, hey," he said, like it wasn’t the most awkward thing ever. "my dad was going to visit your dad... said something about business visits or whatever, so i came with him."

you blinked, still processing, then stepped aside to let them in. after that, you both started to realize how much closer you’d gotten. things weren’t just about secret meetings anymore. they were about knowing each other, understanding each other in a way you didn’t before.

heeseung wasn’t a player anymore, not around you. he wasn’t hiding behind any walls or pretending to be something he wasn’t. it was like he was finally letting himself be seen, and you liked that. a lot.

even with all the changes, even with how much closer you two had become, there was still that one thing hanging between you. heeseung was still with karina. it wasn’t like you didn’t notice it. the way they would still walk around school together, the way she’d smile at him when he passed by. there were no obvious signs of trouble, no cracks in their relationship that you could see.

even though heeseung would drop little hints, those quiet, uncertain words when the two of you were alone ‘i’m thinking about breaking up with her…’ it never seemed to go anywhere. he would say it with a kind of vulnerability, like he was testing the waters, like he was hoping you’d say something that would push him in one direction or the other.

you couldn’t help but feel frustrated. there was this constant tug-of-war between what he said to you in private and what he did when the world was watching. it felt like he was trying to keep one foot in both worlds, but you couldn’t help feeling like you were left waiting in the middle, unsure if you were just a momentary distraction or something more. you told yourself you shouldn’t read too much into it. that he was confused, that maybe it wasn’t the right time, or maybe he didn’t have the courage to make the change. but every time he’d tell you he wanted to leave her, you’d see the conflict in his eyes, that quiet desperation to be understood, to be seen. still, he never followed through. he never made the choice.

you stayed friendly, maybe out of habit, maybe because you weren’t quite ready to let go of the connection you’d built. you let him tag along when you hung out with your friends down south at the house. a spot that was more a sanctuary than anything else, away from the world, away from expectations.

heeseung still had that rich boy aura about him, the one that made him stick out in a crowd of worn-out jeans and streetwise attitudes. but your friends didn’t mind. they were good with him being there, even if they teased him a little. mocking his clean-cut appearance, joking about how his designer clothes didn’t exactly fit the vibe. they liked him well enough, though. it was obvious he wasn’t as comfortable with them as he was in his own circles, but he did try. and they did notice how close you’d gotten to him.

“look at mr. fancy pants over here,” yeonjun would joke, nudging him as he sipped on whatever drink was put in front of him. “you sure you’re not lost, rich boy? this isn’t exactly sushi bar territory.”

he’d smile, a little awkwardly, trying to laugh it off, but there was always a flicker of discomfort behind his eyes. he wasn’t like them, not really. they knew it, and he knew it, but it didn’t matter as much when he was there, surrounded by your friends, just being with you.

you’d catch moments, though. quiet ones when he was staring off into the distance, or when his laugh felt a little too forced. you knew it was because he was still stuck. still torn between two worlds, two lives. and you were tired of being in the middle of it. though, what ou didn’t know, that for him it was much more than that. he was stuck between two girls of different worlds. karina and you.

karina wasn’t someone he actually liked, he was just with her for his reputation and his family. but still, he was with her. and you, you were absolutely everything to him. you were the trouble that came along with bad decisions and the reward that came after them.

it all came crashing down one night when you and your friends were hanging out at the house, like you’d done countless times before. the air was thick with smoke, the sounds of laughter and music filling the dim-lit space as everyone just tried to forget for a few hours. it was supposed to be like any other night, a break from everything that weighed you down. but then, out of nowhere, the door slammed open.

sirens wailed in the distance, but it was already too late. the police stormed in, uniformed and angry, their boots pounding against the cracked floors, their voices demanding silence. they didn’t give anyone a chance to react before they were ripping through everything. throwing aside old records, scattering things off shelves, knocking over bottles.

"this is a raid," one of the officers barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. "everything’s getting confiscated."

your heart sank as they swept through the room, destroying everything. things you had no idea they’d even care about. all the memories, the things that had made this place feel like home, were being taken apart right in front of you. your childhood, your sanctuary, was crumbling.

you stood frozen for a second, not sure what to do, but your instinct kicked in. no way in hell. this wasn’t right. you couldn’t let them destroy it all. you rushed forward, intent on stopping them, shouting at the officers to stop, to leave, to just go away.

"who the hell do you think you guys are?! this is my house! you can’t do this!" you screamed, your hands shaking with adrenaline as you tried to push past one of the officers to get to the old furniture, the things that meant something to you. everything in this house had a story, a memory. and they were tearing it down, trying to find something.

but before you could get too far, a hand grabbed your arm, pulling you back. it was heeseung, his grip firm but gentle as he yanked you away from the officers.

“stop,” he muttered urgently, his voice tense. "you’re not gonna win this. they’ll arrest you, they’ll make it worse." even if he was slightly scared, and terrified of getting himself arrested and the word getting to his father, he had to take care of you. he just wondered how they found out about this place, a drug raid was almost impossible, you were within the legal bounds.

you were almost angry at heeseung for not letting you go. in that moment, as the officers trashed everything that meant something to you, the anger bubbled up inside. how could he stand there, calm and collected, trying to hold you back, when everything you cared about was being destroyed? it felt like betrayal, even though you knew deep down it wasn’t his fault. he wasn’t the one doing this.

you tried to pull away from him, your heart racing, your mind spinning. "let me go, heeseung!" you snapped, your voice sharp and furious. " i can’t just stand here and watch them do this! they’re destroying everything!"

but he held you tighter, his grip unyielding. “i’m not letting you make things worse. not like this,” he said, his voice tight but calm, like he knew exactly what you needed, even if you didn’t want to hear it.

you yanked your arm again, almost reckless with frustration. your pulse was pounding in your ears. “why? why are you stopping me? i can’t just let them-” you broke off, your voice cracking. you didn’t want to admit how scared you were, how helpless you felt. in that moment, you realized, there wasn’t anybody there for you. the house of your mother was being searched, and she wasn’t here. and you knew you’re father wouldn’t care.

his eyes softened, and for a moment, you thought he might let go. but instead, he pulled you closer, his voice dropping to something gentler, but firm. “because if you go after them now, you’re just giving them more reason to hurt you. to make it worse. this isn’t the time.”

you hated that he was right. you absolutely hated it.

it wasn’t just about the stuff. it wasn’t just about the house. it was the fact that it all felt like a reminder of how much you didn’t have control over. the way things kept slipping through your fingers, no matter how hard you tried to hold on. you looked up at him, your chest rising and falling in sharp breaths. “they can’t just take everything,” you muttered, the anger still hot in your throat. “this was my life. my memories. this house is all i am.”

heeseung didn’t say anything right away. he just looked at you. like he really understood. he got it, even if you weren’t sure you could let him. finally, he exhaled slowly. "i know. but this isn’t the way to fix it."

you stood there, your body still tense, but slowly, you started to feel the reality of the situation hit you. he wasn’t letting you be reckless because he didn’t care. he was trying to protect you from making a bigger mistake, from getting hurt. from losing more. with a heavy sigh, you slumped against him, the fight draining from your body. you weren’t sure if you were more angry at the situation or at yourself for feeling so helpless. but in that moment, as the chaos continued around you, all you could do was lean into him. just a little, because you knew you couldn’t do this alone.

after the chaos of the raid, everything seemed to move in slow motion. the police had confiscated everything they wanted that seemed suspicious, leaving nothing but a wrecked space behind. they’d taken their time, ensuring that no one was left with any trace of what used to be there. when it was over, the officers had turned their attention to you, with blaming guns in hand.

you hadn’t even realized they were going to search you until they were doing it, their hands cold and impersonal as they patrolled your pockets, your bag, your shoes. your heart hammered in your chest, and you were still shaking from the adrenaline, from everything that had just happened. everything felt surreal, like you were watching it happen to someone else. but the reality of it hit hard when they finally let you out of the interrogation room, their eyes on you like you were some kind of suspect.

you stood outside the police station, the weight of everything pressing down on you. the air felt colder now, the harshness of the situation settling in. you were free to go, but the damage had been done. you felt exposed, like a part of you had been torn away that you couldn’t get back. but you couldn’t stay there anymore. the night had stretched on, and you just needed to leave.

as you stood there, trying to process the mess that had been made of your life, you heard someone approaching from behind. you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. his footsteps, the way he moved, the tension in his gait, it was heeseung.

he walked up to you, his face serious, eyes darker than usual. "are you okay?" he asked, though you could tell he wasn’t asking just out of concern. he was searching for something else, something deeper. you didn’t answer right away. you couldn’t. instead, you just gave a tight nod, your throat too tight to speak. but then he said something that made your stomach drop.

“it was karina,” he said.

you blinked, confused. “what do you mean?”

heeseung exhaled sharply, shaking his head slightly, like he couldn’t believe it. "she’s the one who called the cops. i know it. she slipped up when i talked to her a couple of minutes ago, she somehow knew i was here.”

a cold feeling swept over you as everything clicked into place. karina. karina had followed him all the way to the house, had gotten the cops involved. it made sense, but the realization didn’t make it hurt any less.

“she did this?” you asked quietly, your voice hollow. you didn’t need to say much more. it was all there. you didn’t actually believe it was possible for someone to be such a horrible human being. heeseung didn’t respond immediately. his jaw clenched, and you could see how much it was bothering him. how much it hurt him to admit it, but he couldn’t deny it.

"yeah," he muttered, his voice low. "i didn’t want to believe it at first, but... it’s clear now." he looked at you, his expression almost guilty, like he was carrying something heavy. "i never wanted you to be caught up in that. i never thought she’d go this far. i broke up with her, she kept bothering me about being here."

you turned away, looking out into the night, the cool air stinging your face. "so what now?" you asked, the words coming out flat, tired. heeseung stepped closer, his voice more earnest now, as if he wanted to say something, to fix things. "i don’t know," he admitted quietly. "i never wanted it to be like this. i don’t want to lose you... but i don’t know how to fix this either. i don’t want to hurt you."

you glanced at him, feeling the weight of the moment. part of you wanted to scream, to say everything that was building up inside, but another part of you just felt... defeated. because the truth was, even now, with everything that had happened, you still didn’t have an answer. and maybe that was the problem. you could feel it. the tension that had been there for so long. the feelings that you couldn’t fully express, that he couldn’t seem to acknowledge. and here you were, caught in the middle of it all.

“you’ve already hurt me, heeseung,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “but i guess... i guess i’ve been letting you. because i still don’t know how to walk away.”

heeseung’s expression faltered. "i never wanted you to feel that way."

you shook your head. “you don’t get it, do you? it’s not about what you want anymore. it’s about what’s already happened.”

he didn’t have a response. all he could do was stand there, looking at you like he wanted to fix things, but knowing he couldn’t. because when it came down to it, the choice had never been yours. and it sure as hell wasn’t his to make anymore.

for the next few days, you avoided heeseung like the plague. and he couldn’t get close to you. everytime he tried, something got in the way, his friends, responsibilities. and you were fine with that. you just had to accept that everything that happened with him was just a slip up, and you’d soon be in your usual bad girl exterior, ignoring him one again.

but it wasn’t that easy. not with karina still out to make your life impossible. she was still angry at you for whatever reason. angry enough to confront you again.

“how are you doing, y/n?” karina pulled out a chair in your empty lunch table, sitting down neatly on it.

“what the fuck do you want?” you spat, annoyed by her presence. you could already feel the stares of students and teachers, as they were informed of what happened.

“geez, calm down, we wouldn’t want you to get a violence complaint and get sent back to the police station, wouldn’t we?”

that was all she needed to say, the single words that came out of her mouth. and she was face down on the ground. you pressed your knee on her back, keeping her grounded, as your hand made her face keep contact with the dirty floor. “you keep fucking messing with me karina, i told you i wouldn’t let it go.”

from a table not to far away, heeseung sat with his friends, watching the scene intently, and for once, heeseung felt himself worrying about a girl. not karina, but you. for once he felt the need to protect you, even if you were already capable on your own.

a small drop of blood from her perfect skin was enough to make you land yourself in the principal’s office. after the fight in the cafeteria, everything changed. you were suspended for your actions, the consequences of that impulsive moment catching up with you. karina had pushed you too far, it was messy. it was ugly. and now, it was your reality.

you spent the next week alone, mostly, apart from that day your father made you attend rehab, because for some reason the school requested it, there you met some nice people. the suspension meant missing school, being grounded and missing your friends down south who kept spamming your phone, and also being forced to face the aftermath of everything. it was a strange kind of isolation. you hadn’t expected to feel so disconnected. the chaos of the fight, the anger you’d been holding back for so long. it all felt like it had burned itself out in that one violent moment. and now, there was just the quiet, with nothing left to do but think.

one afternoon, as you sat on your huge balcony, smoking a cigarette, since your father confiscated everything else, you tried to let the smoke clear your head. you watched the world outside, the fancy cars in traffic passing below, people going about their business, and it felt almost surreal. like everything that had happened. the raid, the fight, was part of some other version of your life. but you couldn’t forget. you couldn’t ignore the tension in your chest. the weight of everything you’d lost. even if you didn’t want to admit it, even if you didn’t want to feel it, you still missed him. you missed the parts of him that were real. the ones that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, things could be different. but now, with everything laid bare, you realized it was never going to be the way you wanted.

you sighed and flicked the cigarette to the ground, watching it burn out as you leaned back against the railing. it was quiet here, just you and the world. it gave you space to breathe, to think. but still, your mind kept returning to heeseung. to the way he’d looked at you in the hallways before everything went south. to the way he used to make you feel seen. and even though you were angry at him, you still couldn’t shake the thought ‘maybe i miss him more than i should.’

you were lost in thought when the doorbell rang, snapping you out of your haze. no one ever came to your house except your dad, so the sound was unexpected. you walked to the top of the stairs to see who it was, but when you saw the butler let heeseung inside, your stomach dropped. what the hell was he doing here? after everything, after you cut him off. he still showed up. frustration hit you immediately, and you turned to leave, heading quickly to your room. but heeseung wasn’t giving up that easily. you heard his footsteps behind you as he called your name. "hey, wait!"

you didn’t stop. you just pushed harder to get to your door, slamming it behind you and locking it. but you knew he was still out there, still following you.

“please, can we talk?” he said softly through the door. you stood there, fists clenched, torn between wanting to scream and wanting to know why he couldn’t just leave you alone.

you hesitated for a moment, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave him standing there. you unlocked the door and let him in, and he stepped inside, his gaze immediately scanning your room. it was quiet, almost sterile. nothing like the space you had shown him at your old place. there were no personal touches, no signs of the messy, chaotic you he’d seen before. it felt different. distant.

heeseung looked around, his eyes softening with something like regret, but before he could say anything, you snapped.

“you have no right to come back into my life like this, like you own the place!” you shouted, your voice shaking with anger. “after everything, after you- ugh! you can’t just show up here, acting like it’s nothing!”

he took a step back, clearly taken off guard by the intensity of your words. but you didn’t care. the frustration, the hurt. it all spilled out in a rush. “you didn’t fight for shit, heeseung! you never did. you just kept going back to karina and that made her destroy my life! so don’t come here now, thinking everything’s fine!”

his face tightened, but he didn’t speak. he just stood there, looking at you, trying to find the right words. but you couldn’t let him speak. not yet.

“you don’t get to do this,” you spat, your chest heaving. “you don’t get to just fix it after everything you’ve done.”

heeseung didn't say anything. he just stepped forward and pulled you into a kiss-fast, intense. you froze, feeling all the anger and frustration you'd built up dissolve in that moment. it wasn't gentle, it wasn't soft. it was his apology, his regret, all packed into one. you tried to push him away to keep talking, but he didn't let you. instead, his hand gripped your wrist, pushing you against the wall, and it made everything inside you twist. when he pulled back, his breath was heavy, eyes searching yours.

“i will cuss you out heeseung, for everything, maybe not just now,” you breathed out, making a small grin appear on his face.

his hands gently traced the contours of your figure as his gaze remained focused on you. he was tender, careful, his lips leaving soft, lingering touches, wanting you to remember only the feel of his kiss. "i've missed you so fucking much, you don’t even know…" he murmured, his thumb grazing your jaw. "me too," you replied softly, pressing your lips against his again.

his hands quickly went to the hem of your shirt, his experienced fingers peeling it shirt off your warm body, a small sigh leaving his lips as they trailed against your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses along it. your breathing got heavier as he sucked hard occasionally, very clearly trying to leave marks.

“fuck, slow down, i’m not going anywhere,” you let out a small breathy gasp, feeling his sharp teeth numbing on your skin, then his soft lips pressing against the spot, almost delicately. you moaned lightly as heeseung slid his knee between your thighs, feeling him smirk against your sensitive skin. “yeah, i know.”

heeseung then moved you both to the edge of your bed, gently letting you rest on your back, your head landing softly against the pillows, still very much aware of how much you needed his mouth back on your body.

he resumed to trailing kisses down your chest, through every single line of dark ink on your body, until he reached the hem of your shorts, looking up at you with those dark doe eyes, that drowned in need. “just relax, can you do that for me?” heeseung slowly started to take off your bottoms, as you sighed out “uh-huh.” he pulled them down your legs, throwing them away from your sight.

“just like that,” he slipped his hand through your white laced underwear causing you to shudder. as his soft fingertips brushed against your cunt. your chest immediately tensed feeling his index and middle finger rub down your clit, your wetness coating his fingers.

heeseung captured your lips into a hungry kiss, distracting you for a small second as he pushed two fingers deep inside of you, reaching up. but soon enough, he had you gasping for air against his mouth, as he moved them quicker, his thumb pressing against your clit, sending a warm feeling through your body.

your hand gripped the soft silk sheets, the other on his shoulder, feeling him so deep inside. your hips buckled unconsciously, wanting to get even closer to him. “fuck,” you whispered, dryly moaning, getting the overwhelming sense of cumming start building up.

heeseung kissed the corner of your mouth one time, before going down on you, his hot tongue leaving a wet trail against your skin, and then he replaced his thumb, sucking on your swollen clit, while his fingers still worked their way into you. his eyes observed how you reacted, almost as if hunting you down. it all felt too much, many sensations at the same time, they had you struggling with your words in between moans, as the knot inside your stomach tightened but quickly gave up, “fuck, ‘seung- mhmm, i’m gonna-“ you whimpered, feeling your legs start shaking, making heeseung go impossibly harder on you.

he fingered and sucked you until you came down your high, making sure to lick his fingers clean, not wanting to get your bed dirty, even if it would in a few seconds. you could feel him getting more hard, as he pressed his hips down against your plush thigh to get a bit of friction. a smirk spread across your mouth because you knew you were the reason why.

“come on, let me see your face, pretty girl,” he grabbed you with his other hand, turning your hot face towards him, almost grinning in victory when seeing your half lidded pinkish eyes, as if you were drunk from arousal and his touch. he bored into your face, as if looking at a piece of art, “you’re goddamn beautiful,” he uttered.

“yeah, i know,” you told him, making him laugh, while using your hands to unbutton his pants, starting to slide them off. heeseung noticed this, looking down at your actions then back up at you with a smirk, “and you’re telling me to slow down,” he said with a devilish tone, helping you take off his clothes, ever so slowly, torturing you with the time.

you threw him a warning look, as he propped up, still on top of you, and took off his shirt as well, letting you see his slightly tanned skin, clear of any love bites that soon would coat him. heeseung hovered over your body, watching intently how he deeply buried himself inside of you. he wouldn’t let you do any of the work, it was going to be him.

you felt him pulsate inside of you, your walls stretching out for him due to his size. it was almost painful to feel too full at once. heeseung was trying not to go crazy over how warm and tight your were, suppressing the need to fuck you with everything he had here and now, before starting to move slowly. he went as deep as he could, and once you got used to the feeling of his dick inside you, heeseung started thrusting in roughly, enough to send spams through your heat, to your body.

“fuck, you’re so good for me,” heeseung groaned, and he took advantage of your position under him to make particularly strong thursts, tightening his grip on your waist, his expression full with desire for more, to get lost in you. and your face didn’t make it better, you looked so needy and high from him at the same time, it made him want to fuck you endlessly, and lose control.

his hips kept slamming with yours mercilessly, and you felt yourself aching, wanting to cum once again, letting out a loud inevitable moan. heeseung was pressed by your walls, as he approached his edge soon, taking the moment to pound into you quickly, almost making himself a whining mess.

you whimpered into his mouth due to the overstimulation he caused you with his thrusts, a knot ran through your legs and you didn't know how much longer you could resist, you felt unbelievably full from him. your warm breath made him lose even more concentration, as he mindlessly came inside of you, coating your insides, still throbbing and moving slowly into you.

when he finally stopped and cleaned you up carefully, heeseung dropped next to you, turning to watch your profile. he raised his fist, getting your attention, and you gave him an odd look before joining your own first with him in the middle in a fistbump, even if you felt like you were about to give away into sleepiness. “atleast that’s better than making stuff awkward,” you sighed, looking up at the ceiling, only dressed in your shirt and a new pair of underwear, feeling a small tug in your throat from being dry.

“hey, we need to get up, i was planning on taking you out,” heeseung said, poking your arm playfully. he couldn’t be serious, wanting you to leave the comfort of your bed after not being able to feel how to walk.

turning your body to your side, you looked out of the glass panel that was your window, noticing the sky get darker “you’re crazy, i’m not doing that right now, let me be,” the words left your mouth tiredly, groaning as you adjusted your position.

heeseung shook his head, hearing a small breath from you, telling him you were in already dream-land, way too far for him to get ahold of you. and he was sure it would always be like that, that he would be the one chasing you, and he didn’t mind, because after all the bad decisions, he was knew he could handle it, the bad reputation and everything that came in between.

BTW: this is saur embarrassing, if it doesn’t get atleast one note, i will delete my whole account istg. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 also, not proofread. i’m not reading all that stuff again. ew.

EXTRA:

masterlist.

78 notes · View notes

aleskie-hischier · 9 hours ago

Text

Summary: Tasked with eliminating the government spy Nico Hischier, you arrive in Paris prepared to do what you’ve always done: obey Father’s orders without question. Unexpectedly, you get closer to Nico and he shows you a glimpse of a life beyond the underworld. Torn between your present and the possibility of a future free from darkness, you make a choice that changes the course of your life.

Word Count: 15k Warnings: fluffy angst!! there's a swear word somewhere there and there's a scene that leads to something spicy but there isn't any actual smut!! also there are inaccurate descriptions of advanced technology and chemicals...don't come for me, i'm not a stem student and i don't actually know how that shit works

You first meet him at a gala somewhere in Germany. It’s the birthday of some socialite, celebrated in the only way these people seem to know how—a garish display of lavish opulence. The mansion is dripping in gold, with polished marble floors that gleam under crystal chandeliers, and an endless fountain of champagne that flows throughout the night. Around you, guests float about in grand clothes, laughter echoing through the hall. And, from the corner of your eye, in the dimly lit corners, you spot couples slipping away for moments of…private intimacy.

In a perfect world, you’d join the festivities—join in the dancing and drinking, maybe you’d even find someone who catches your eye, flirt for a while, let the champagne make you bold. But you aren’t here for any of that. No, your attendance tonight is strictly for work, and you’re eager to make a good impression. After all, ‘Father’ had chosen you personally for this assignment, this chance to prove yourself by approaching The Target.

The honor wasn’t lost on you. Out of all your ‘siblings,’ it was you he’d chosen—‘Father’s’ quiet, watchful shadow. You almost let a smile slip at the thought of them fuming, quietly seething that you had been singled out as his best. Still, you keep your gloating hidden deep inside. You keep your expression composed, calm, your mask perfectly in place. Just like what you were trained to do.

One by one, ‘Father’ takes you through the crowd, introducing you to guests scattered throughout the hall. There are socialites wrapped in silk and jewels, politicians with their fake and steely smiles; There are actors who prance around with perfectly practiced charm and singers who cast secretive glances at one another—everyone who matters, the pillars of high society, are all here.

You’re cordial, polite, doing exactly as you were trained: standing straight with your head high, giving a subtle smile, letting ‘Father’ do most of the talking while you speak only when directly addressed.

This is why you’re his favorite. You’re a shadow, a seamless extension of his will, your own desires tucked away beneath the polished surface.

Your gaze occasionally sweeps the room, catching every flicker of movement, every momentary lapse in composure. You’re waiting, watching, until finally, you see him: The Target. Standing across the room, just beyond ‘Father’s’ line of sight, and yet right within yours.

The cold and calculating Agent Heart. Real name: Nico Hischier. One of the top operatives the Swiss government had ever produced—usually, anyway. He’d unknowingly made a crucial mistake at his last job, leaving just enough of a trace to reveal the man behind the code name. And now, he would die by your hands.

It was almost a pity to end the life of someone so...well, so pretty, with that sharp jawline and those doe-like brown eyes. But a job was a job, and Nico Hischier had been a thorn in your client’s side for far too long. His audacious infiltration schemes and the false information he’d planted across organizations had finally backfired, landing him in the crosshairs of nearly every intelligence agency in Europe. The bounty on his head was astronomical. And very soon, you’d be securing a piece of it.

You quietly excuse yourself from the current group of guests as ‘Father’ continues talking, stepping away with a smooth, practiced grace that goes unnoticed amidst the swirl of laughter and clinking glasses. Moving through the crowd, you feel the thrill of anticipation quicken your heartbeat—not nerves, but the pure, cold excitement that only missions like this can give.

You’d studied him meticulously, learning everything from his birthplace to his weapon of choice to the peculiarity of his movements. By all accounts, he’s one of the deadliest targets you’ve ever been assigned. But here, under the shimmering lights and surrounded by Europe’s elite, he almost seems ordinary. Unsuspecting. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Carefully, you make your way to him with a calculated grace, cutting through the crowd with subtle purpose until you find yourself near the champagne tower where he stands, engaged in polite conversation but always surveying the room. In these few seconds, your mind runs through the best approaches. This first contact would be critical—too bold, and he’d suspect something; too subtle, and you’d be ignored.

As you near him, you make a choice. You pass close enough to him for a brief, delicate brush of your arm against his, subtle enough to seem accidental yet deliberate enough to catch his attention. The spark of contact makes him look down at you, his gaze as sharp as you expected. You meet his eyes, letting a faint smile tug at your lips, mysterious and inviting.

You let the moment linger just a second longer than usual before drifting away, casting a fleeting glance over your shoulder as you head towards a nearby balcony. A silent invitation, daring him to follow.

It works. Just moments later, you sense his presence behind you, following you closely. And when you step onto the quiet balcony overlooking the gardens, he’s there, closing the doors softly behind him. For a brief moment, you both stand in silence, the sounds of laughter and music now muffled by the thick glass. The night air is cool, and he takes a step forward, his posture casual but his eyes sharp, assessing.

“Didn’t think I’d see someone like you out here,” he says smoothly, his voice low and slightly amused.

You arch a brow, leaning against the stone bannister, feigning a casualness you don’t entirely feel. “And what is ‘someone like me,’ exactly?” you ask, letting a slight challenge slip into your tone.

He chuckles softly, his gaze trailing over you with an interest that’s as analytical as it is intrigued. “Someone who seems a bit out of place among all the gold and glitter.” He pauses, a smile touching his lips. “Though I suppose that’s part of the charm.”

You tilt your head, meeting his gaze with a smile of your own. “Maybe I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

He hums, studying you with a spark of intrigue. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

You smirk, crossing your arms loosely in front of you. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He chuckles, mirroring your smirk with one of his own. “Don’t you want to know who I am?”

You shrug lightly, keeping your gaze steady. “It’s not that important. We won’t be meeting after tonight, anyway,” you reply, your tone coy, almost daring.

He tilts his head, clearly amused, and leans in just a fraction closer. His hand rests on the bannister, his fingers nearly brushing against yours. “And what if I wanted to meet again?”

A playful smile tugs at the corner of your lips. “I think I could make that happen.”

He opens his mouth, about to respond with some new flirtation, but he’s cut off by a familiar voice.

‘Father.’

“Ah,” he says, his tone measured, assessing, “My child, here you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

You turn, adopting a soft, slightly apologetic smile, and gesture toward Nico. “I found some lovely company tonight. I’m sorry for slipping away like that.”

‘Father’ shifts his gaze to Nico, then back to you, a look of subtle satisfaction passing over his features as he realizes you’ve made contact with the target. “I see.” He extends his hand to the spy. “Thank you for looking after my treasure.”

The air shifts as Nico straightens, his previously casual demeanor giving way to a guarded coolness. He accepts the handshake, meeting ‘Father’s’ gaze with a measured look. “It’s my pleasure,” he replies smoothly. “She’s been…lovely company.”

‘Father’ gives an approving smile that, even to you, seems convincing. “Well,” he says, glancing between the two of you, “I hate to cut this meeting short, but our chauffeur is here to take us back home.” His tone is warm, but there’s no mistaking the command in his words.

Nico’s eyes flick from you to ‘Father,’ assessing, before he nods. “Of course.” Turning back to you, he reaches for your gloved hand, lifting it with unexpected gentleness to his lips. “Thank you for your company tonight.”

You give him a warm smile, your heart skipping just slightly under the guise of composure. “It was no trouble at all.” Then, slipping your hand free, you take ‘Father’s’ arm, feeling Nico’s intense gaze burn into your back as you leave the balcony.

Once in the car, the silence is weighted, yet you can sense ‘Father’s’ satisfaction without needing to see his face. He finally speaks, his voice brimming with a rare touch of pride.

“My Shadow,” he says, almost tenderly, “To have made contact with a target even I did not see is nothing short of impressive. I knew you were the right choice for this assignment.” He leans back, a hint of a smile ghosting across his face as he watches the city lights flicker past the window.

A subtle warmth blooms in your chest, a swell of pride that you rarely allow yourself to feel. You’ve made ‘Father’ proud—exactly what you’ve been trained for, the purpose he’s molded you into. And tonight, you’ve once again proven yourself worthy of his trust.

You allow yourself a brief, quiet smile as you reply, “Thank you, Father.”

Suddenly, ‘Father’ turns to you, a faint glint of scrutiny in his eyes. “I must ask, however,” he says, his voice sharp and questioning, “Why did you allow him to kiss your hand goodbye? You don’t often permit targets to make contact with you.”

Caught off guard by his intensity, you pause, then offer a calm, practiced smile. “Oh,” you say, feeling the weight of his gaze, “I left him with a small gift, is all.”

‘Father’ raises a brow, his silence an unspoken command to elaborate.

With a slight, mischievous smile, you hold up your hands, drawing his attention to the delicate gloves still clinging to your skin. “I laced these with poison.”

For a second, ‘Father’ stares, his eyes widening as he processes your strategy, before he lets out a hearty, genuine laugh that seems to echo in the dim car. “Oh, my dear Shadow,” he says, mirth evident in every syllable, “This is why you are my greatest investment.”

He shakes his head, almost in awe, and pats your shoulder as if to say, well done. “Brilliantly done. Precise, discreet, and utterly poetic. I knew I was right to trust you with this.”

The pride in his tone washes over you, and you lower your eyes, feigning humility even as satisfaction hums beneath your skin.

Right now, in this moment, you’re more than just his tool—you’re his masterpiece, a testament to his power, and his most prized creation. The night around you darkens as the car glides down empty streets, but you feel only the steady glow of triumph.

You don’t see Nico Hischier for another five years.

After that night, he vanished as if he’d never existed, leaving no trace, no sign, not even a whisper in the underworld. Informants scrambled and came up empty-handed, unable to find the faintest clue of his survival. For all intents and purposes, Nico Hischier was dead and Agent Heart was wiped from the face of the earth—yet his memory lingered, nagging at the edges of your mind. A shame, really. He’d been charming, a master of his craft, and more than easy on the eyes with a lovely accent to match. But business was business, and you’d pocketed a handsome payday from his supposed demise.

Life moved on. You took new assignments, completed them, and then went on a shopping spree with the bounty you collected from each person’s demise.

And then, just as you’d almost forgotten him, a report surfaced: Nico Hischier, codename: Heart, was sighted in Prague.

The message left you cold, gripping the paper so tightly your knuckles turned white. Somehow, he’d managed to reemerge five years after you’d assumed him dead. It could only mean one of two things: either he’d somehow already developed an immunity to your poison, or he’d anticipated your move that night and carried an antidote. Either way, he’d outplayed you.

When ‘Father’ found out, his reaction was…uncharacteristic. You almost expected him to explode in fury, yet he remained unsettlingly calm, though you could feel the chill radiating off him. “Lay low,” he commanded, his voice edged with a steely calm. “Do nothing reckless. We will let him think he is safe.”

You nodded, as did the others. Defiance wasn’t an option—not against ‘Father.’ You were his creations, his most prized agents, trained to bend to his will, to serve as extensions of his power. But as reports trickled in of Nico’s movements—Italy, Spain, then Germany, and now, most recently, Paris—a restlessness began to simmer beneath the surface.

It was infuriating. This job should have been finished years ago, with your flawless record kept unblemished. Instead, Nico Hischier was hopping across Europe as if untouched, while your high-profile clients grew increasingly frantic, demanding answers.

What was his plan? He hadn’t been stirring up trouble, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was biding his time, collecting information, plotting something. Five years of his survival meant five years for him to watch, learn, and scheme. Who knew what kind of leverage he might hold now?

The insult burned, a taunting reminder of your one unfinished task. This was personal now.

With a calculated calm, you start packing, your room a messy whirl of preparation. You move quickly, gathering clothes and essentials, disguises folded neatly alongside your dark ensembles. The commercial airport would be a nightmare for weapons and the more, shall we say, experimental items you’d usually pack, so you strip down to the essentials—your laptop, and hard drives and USBs loaded with data on ‘Father’s’ warehouses, contacts, and safehouses in Paris. You weren’t about to leave anything to chance this time. You were going to get the job done.

“What do we have here?” Hyacinth drawls as he strolls into your room, that infuriating smirk playing across his lips. “Shadow, breaking Father’s orders? Never thought I’d live to see the day! Maybe the world really is coming to an end.”

His laugh grates against your nerves, adding fuel to the fire of your frustration. You clench your fists, willing yourself not to snap.

“Shut up, Hyacinth,” you snap, your tone ice-cold.

He lifts a brow, feigning shock. “Touchy, touchy. What’s the matter? Can’t handle the thought of being like the rest of us disappointments?”

Your glare sharpens. “You don’t know a damn thing.”

“Oh, maybe not,” he shrugs with feigned nonchalance, though the glint in his eyes says otherwise. “All I know is that Father’s perfect little lap dog has her first big failure and can’t handle it. Didn’t even get a scolding for it, either. Let it go, Shadow. Shit happens.”

“Not to me!” The words are out before you can stop them, the heat in your voice betraying the tight hold you’ve tried to keep on your emotions. “Shit isn’t supposed to happen to me. He should have been dead five years ago. Something is clearly wrong here, and I’m not about to wait around to see what it is.”

Hyacinth leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “Don’t you think by going after him, you’re just putting us all at risk? Maybe you’re the one digging our graves.”

You set your jaw. “I’m making sure it doesn’t come to that. Someone has to, and if that means going out there myself, so be it. I won’t let him compromise us.”

He snorts. “That superiority complex of yours is showing again. Newsflash, Shadow: you’re not any better than the rest of us. We can handle ourselves, you know.”

“Then do that.” You meet his gaze, refusing to waver. “I’m going to end this, for good this time.”

Hyacinth shakes his head, letting out a scoff as he gives you a mock salute before flipping you off on his way out. Once he’s gone, silence falls, leaving you alone with the simmering anger and resolve that’s been building inside you since that first sighting in Prague.

You turn back to your preparations, each item you pack a step closer to reclaiming your spotless record. If Nico Hischier thought he could walk back into your world without a consequence, he was in for a rude awakening. This time, you’d make sure he didn’t walk away—no matter what it took.

The first thing you do when you touch down in Paris is seek out a café where you can start tracking down the location of the warehouse without raising suspicion. You drag your suitcase through the bustling crowds, winding your way to a small café tucked in a quiet corner off a narrow street. It’s the kind of place tourists overlook but locals appreciate, which suits you just fine. Settling at a corner table, you pull out your laptop and hard drive, your eyes flicking discreetly around before focusing on the screen.

Phase one: gathering supplies and resources. It’s essential to be meticulous here, covering your tracks as you hack into the security systems guarding the warehouse. ‘Father’ couldn’t know, not until Nico was back under control, one way or another. Hyacinth was a wild card, as always. But you know your ‘brother’ well enough—he wouldn’t risk his neck tattling to ‘Father’ when it could mean he’d get burned for letting you slip through in the first place. No, the only way you’d get caught would be if you made a mistake. But you don’t make mistakes. Not often, at least.

Steeling yourself, you quickly hack into ‘Father’s’ network, bypassing the high-grade security systems with a practiced ease. You knew every firewall, every code embedded in his system—hell, you’d helped create a few. Within minutes, you’re inside, scanning inventory lists, security schedules, and surveillance layouts. The target warehouse isn’t far, just on the outskirts of the city, and you catch a hint of satisfaction at the minimal security—surely an oversight on ‘Father’s’ part. A clean entry and exit should be more than manageable if you stick to the plan. This was your element. It’s what they trained you for, why they called you Shadow: no one saw you coming, and no one would see you go.

Hours later, with a mental map of the warehouse in place, you check into your hotel—a high-end spot tucked away in the heart of the city. You present your fake ID and passport with the same confidence you’ve honed in every mission. The upscale surroundings are a deliberate choice. Tourists flood hotels like these, and with so many faces coming and going, no one would remember one more guest. Plus, you think, casting a glance around the pristine lobby, it’s a definite improvement over some of your previous hideouts.

Your room is a large suite with a view overlooking the Seine, but there’s no time to enjoy it. By nightfall, you’re ready. Dressed in sleek, dark clothing, a mask fitted snugly over your face, and your bag packed with the essentials, you slip silently into the shadows outside the hotel. Your path takes you through side streets and alleyways, every step calculated as you make your way toward the necessary location.

The warehouse looms ahead, tucked in an industrial sector where only the hum of distant traffic breaks the silence. You slip into the shadows along the building’s side, blending in as you’ve always done. You double-check your tools, each one a lifeline in your hand. There’s no room for error tonight. Not this time.

When you arrive, the warehouse looms ahead in the darkness. It’s surrounded by high fencing, security cameras rotating from their posts like watchful sentries. For most, this would be intimidating, but you’ve faced far worse. The thrill kicks in once more, sharpening your senses. You take a slow, steadying breath, then melt into the shadows, silent as smoke. This time, you’d finish the job you’d started years ago—no matter what it took.

The sunrise has always fascinated you. It’s a signal of beginnings, fresh starts—a promise of new opportunities. You find it poetic that it’s the first thing you see as you slip out of the warehouse, your mission complete and a cold, gleeful satisfaction filling you.

Breaking into the place had been more challenging than anticipated. The exterior’s casual security had lulled you into a false sense of ease, making you believe the rest would be a simple infiltration. But inside, the game shifted. Lasers crisscrossed the halls like webs, ready to alert ‘Father’ at the faintest touch. You’d navigated through them with a mix of agility and nerves of steel, carefully calculating each movement. Then, hacking into the security system to loop the cameras—well, that had demanded an even steadier hand.

Each door you encountered was a new puzzle, a metal barrier locked with outdated ciphers that even the finest digital decoders couldn’t solve alone. Finally, you resorted to an old cipher-decoder tucked away in your bag, the kind you’d almost forgotten about, to get you through. Each second felt stretched, every click and buzz echoing louder in the silent warehouse, but you refused to let it fluster you. You were trained for this—methodical, composed, and ruthless in your precision.

The challenges only fueled you. They reminded you of the spies you’d watched over the years, their sneaky maneuvers and meticulous planning. Spies and assassins weren’t all that different, you thought wryly. Both had to be intelligent, inventive, and constantly three steps ahead. You’d taken notes, refined your approach, and now, standing here at the brink of success, you see it paying off.

Once inside the warehouse’s main sector, you located everything you needed: small vials of acids and chemicals with potent effects, needles to inject them into precise targets, and, of course, your preferred daggers. You recognize the risk of bringing such conspicuous weapons; the daggers would leave a clear mark, something easily traced to you. But they were your final line of defense if all else failed. A contingency. You liked to be prepared for every possibility.

With your haul secured, you slipped out as silently as you’d come, setting everything back to how it was before you’d entered.

Back at the hotel, a wave of exhaustion hit you, the adrenaline finally draining. You collapsed onto the plush bed, relishing the soft linens and the contrast of comfort after the tense operation. As your eyes drifted shut, the golden light of dawn filtered through the window. In the back of your mind, a voice whispers that this time, things will fall into place. The sun feels like a premonition—a promise of victory.

When you wake up, it’s just about time for lunch, and the day outside is sunny, practically inviting you out to explore. After a quick shower, you slip into a simple outfit, throwing on a light cardigan, and head down to the lobby. You tell yourself it’s to grab a bite to eat while you figure out how to locate Nico—if he was even still in Paris. A grimace crosses your face at the possibility he’s already vanished, but a quick spark of determination flickers. You’re prepared to follow him to the ends of the earth if that’s what it takes.

Lost in thought, you walk briskly toward the lobby’s exit, but you’re jarred back to the present by an unexpected bump into someone. Instinctively, you’re ready to apologize—until you look up and see him. Nico, in the flesh, his expression caught halfway between surprise and something else. He’s as handsome as you remember, wearing a casual pair of jeans, a sleek knit sweater, and a trench coat that perfectly frames his sharp build. Jackpot.

His eyes first widen when they see you, a flash of recognition, but they don’t show any signs of him connecting you with a failed assassination plot, so that was working in your favor. Then he gives an amused smile.

For a split second, his eyes widen, a flicker of recognition lighting up his face. But he doesn’t show a trace of suspicion; if anything, he looks amused. It’s almost funny how little he realizes who you truly are or that you were ever tasked with ending his life.

“When you said you’d make our meeting happen again,” he says smoothly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I didn’t think you’d keep me waiting for five years.”

You recover quickly, letting an amused smile play on your lips. “Good things take time,” you reply, matching his tone with ease.

“Well then, I guess it’s about time we do this properly." His smirk deepens as he extends a hand, offering a more formal greeting. "I’m Nico.”

“Y/N,” you say, your smile widening as you take his hand, giving it a light but confident shake.

He studies you for a moment, his gaze both amused and appraising. “So, Y/N,” he says, the casualness in his tone belied by the spark of curiosity in his eyes, “What brings you to Paris?”

“Oh, just a bit of business,” you reply, a small, knowing smile playing on your lips. “But I don’t mind having a little fun on the side.”

“Funny,” he replies, the amusement in his eyes intensifying. His gaze lingers, assessing, as if you’re a puzzle he’s suddenly intent on solving. “I could say the same thing.” There’s a spark of intrigue in his eyes, a quiet challenge, like he’s not quite sure what he’s getting into but is curious enough to find out. “How about we continue where we left off and get lunch? My treat.”

There’s a quiet thrill in how easily he’s letting his guard down. “I’d be glad to,” you say, your voice warm and laced with charm. You place your hand lightly in the one he’s offered as he leads you out of the hotel lobby, and a strange feeling of satisfaction blooms in your chest.

As you step out into the Parisian sunlight, you feel his gaze drift over you from time to time, like he’s trying to piece together the mystery that is you. In a way, it’s thrilling—the careful dance, the unspoken tension between you. For now, you’re both just two strangers, meeting by chance, sharing a meal in the city of lights. But beneath that veneer of normalcy, you know exactly who he is. And soon, he’ll find out exactly who you are, too.

The walk to the restaurant is mostly silent, save for the sounds of cabs and people on the street, though his hand remains firmly laced in yours, grounding you in a way that’s both strange and unexpectedly steady. You’re not sure if he’s doing it to ensure you don’t slip away—not that you would—or if it’s simply his way of staying connected, holding onto this chance encounter as long as possible.

He leads you to a cozy little bistro just a block away from the hotel. It’s the sort of place that’s swarming with locals, with warm wooden tables and waitstaff bustling through the crowd, balancing plates with practiced ease. You’re seated by a window, the afternoon light filtering through as the hum of Parisian life passes by outside. He lets go of your hand to pull out your chair, a surprisingly old-fashioned gesture, before taking a seat across from you. You’re handed menus, and after a quick glance, he orders a steak. You, in turn, order ratatouille—a choice that earns you a look of amused surprise.

“Ratatouille?” He raises an eyebrow, the grin on his face both intrigued and playful as the waiter collects your menus.

You can’t help but smirk back, rolling your eyes a bit as you explain. “I saw the movie last year and figured I should try the dish, see if it lives up to the hype.”

He laughs, the sound warm and relaxed, making him seem momentarily less like the man you’re here to kill. “So, you’re into those kinds of things? Movies?”

“Not really. Just curious.” You give a small shrug, keeping your tone light. “I figured that if I was gonna eat in Paris I might as well go for something classic.”

He nods, eyes never leaving yours, his gaze intense but inviting. “I suppose you just don’t strike me as the type to follow a…classical path, so to speak.”

You tilt your head, intrigued. “And what exactly do you think my path looks like, then?”

“Something more mysterious.” His smirk returns, laced with a deeper curiosity, as though he’s trying to peer through whatever mask you’ve chosen to wear today. “You’ve got this air about you...like you’re here, but not entirely. A bit like a cat. Sneaky, quick,” he says, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that feels both measuring and teasing. “Elusive.”

You laugh, letting out a genuine sound. “A cat? That’s a first.”

It is a first. People in your world were more likely to call you names like “Golden Girl,” “Father’s Shadow,” or “Lap Dog” when your so-called ‘siblings’ wanted to get under your skin.

“Well, you are hard to pin down, aren’t you?” He leans back, still watching you, and the playful energy from before shifts. “People like us—those who can walk in and out of rooms unnoticed—we tend to be running from something, or toward it. Which one is it for you?”

The question catches you off guard, the subtle implication making you wonder if he knows more than he lets on. You lean in, matching his intensity. “Maybe both. Or maybe I just like the thrill of new places and new faces.”

He nods slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, as though filing the answer away with real interest. You notice the warmth in his curiosity, and for a brief moment, it almost makes you feel guilty, like he genuinely wants to know the truth about you.

“Besides,” you continue, a smile tugging at your lips, “I’m the one who’s hard to pin down? You’re the one who’s been quite hard to find these past few years.”

The words slip out before you realize how they might sound, and for a brief second, you see his expression flicker from amused to alarmed. Most people wouldn’t catch it, but you do, and you pivot quickly.

“I just…” You let out a breath, recalibrating. “I thought you’d stay in Germany longer. I tried looking for you after the gala.” It’s the truth, in a way—you had tried to track him down, though for different reasons entirely. “But you were gone. Just…vanished.” The words carry a hint of something unintended, something softer. You sound almost sad, like a lover abandoned or a child denied a favorite toy.

His expression shifts, easing into something more open, though there’s a guarded look in his eyes you can’t quite place. “Oh,” he says simply. “Had some business to take care of.” Then, his lips curve into a smirk, casual and inviting. “If I’d known you were looking for me, I would’ve found you first.”

You return his smile, allowing the flirtation to flow easily between you. “Well, lucky for you, you didn’t have to try too hard this time.”

“Lucky for me indeed.” His gaze sharpens with interest, as if he’s thinking of something more he’d like to say but chooses to leave it unspoken.

As the light shifts, bathing the restaurant in a soft glow, you realize just how naturally the conversation has fallen into place, how seamlessly you’ve slipped into the part you need to play. It’s dangerous, how easy it feels, how perfectly he responds to every cue. For a moment, you wonder if he’s doing the same—if he’s playing a role, hiding motives of his own behind that smooth smile. But the real danger, you know, is how much you welcome it—yearn for it—how a part of you longs for this illusion of normalcy.

You let yourself drift for a second, thinking about a quiet cottage somewhere in the mountains. You imagine waking up next to someone you love, sharing breakfast and laughter in the early morning light. You picture spending your days apart, coming home to one another at night, swapping stories about the small things, the safe things, the little moments of joy. In this little dream, you hold children of your own—kids who’d grow up safe, untouched by the world you’d grown up in.

You look across the table at Nico, studying his face, his easy demeanor. And for a brief, painful moment, you think that if things were different, if he truly was just a man sitting here with genuine interest, the two of you might have been a good match. But that world, that life, feels as distant as the sunlit street outside, just out of reach and fading as quickly as it appeared.

The food arrives, interrupting the charged silence, and you focus on your plate, cutting into the colorful layers of ratatouille. The flavors are rich and earthy, a surprising comfort, and for a moment, you lose yourself in the meal. The flavors are unexpectedly comforting, earthy and rich, a pleasure you can savor for once, without wondering if it’s laced with some new toxin or if a hidden blade will come flying at you as you take your next bite.

‘Father’ had a way of turning even meals into exercises in survival, leaving you perpetually on guard, reminding you, every time you sat down, that you belonged to him. The absurdity of it all isn’t lost on you—the idea of “family” twisted into something you’ve learned to navigate but never fully accept.

As you eat, Nico occasionally glances up, a hint of curiosity in his gaze, and you realize he’s studying you, reading you as if you’re some puzzle he’s intent on solving. His careful attention puts you on edge, yet you find yourself playing into it, letting him look, letting him think he has the upper hand. But under the surface, you’re calculating, assessing how best to keep him close. After all, you have a job to finish, and the more he thinks he’s reading you, the more you can quietly prepare.

“So,” you say, dabbing the corners of your mouth, casually probing, “How long have you been in Paris?”

“About two weeks now,” he replies, his voice a low hum.

That aligns with the information you received, so you press a bit further. “Work?” you ask, giving him a look of mild curiosity.

“Something like that.” His gaze drifts, thoughtful, as if his mind is somewhere else, somewhere you can’t follow. “Just needed to get away from everything for a while.”

You nod thoughtfully. You understood completely. The life you both lead and the secrecy, the horrors that come with it aren’t for the weak. There are times you’ve dreamed of disappearing yourself, slipping out from under ‘Father’s’ iron grip, but fear keeps you rooted. The thought of ‘Father’ discovering an unsanctioned trip would lead to more than just fury; it would likely spark consequences you can’t afford.

You glance at Nico, taking a sip of water to mask the tension creeping into your thoughts. This job has to go as planned—flawlessly. If it doesn’t, you know you’ll be dragged back to face ‘Father’s’ wrath, and Paris, Nico, all of it, would be nothing more than a dangerous, haunting memory.

“I get it,” you say finally, a hint of wistfulness creeping into your voice. “I didn’t tell anyone I was coming here.”

“Not even your dad?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You shake your head. “No one knows.” A pause, then you add, “Well, except my brother. But he won’t tell.”

“You have siblings?”

“Three older ones, one younger,” you say with a small smile. “They’re annoying, but they’re mine.” It isn’t exactly a lie. There may be rivalry and threats and a constant competition for ‘Father’s’ approval, but there’s also a silent bond, a certain understanding that only comes from surviving the same relentless environment together. In some twisted way, you protect each other.

He chuckles, a soft, genuine sound. “I’ve got two older ones. A brother and a sister.”

“Yeah?” you ask, leaning forward with genuine interest, surprising even yourself. “What are they like?”

“They’re fun,” he says, his eyes softening as he talks, affectionate in the way most families are with each other. “We’re close—we talk all the time, take trips to the beach or the lake. We play sports together, laugh about stupid things. Just…normal stuff.”

You can’t help the pang that tugs at you, the unfamiliar ache of what you’ve missed. “What about your parents?”

A smile spreads across his face, warm and fond. “My mom makes the best food. Seriously. She’s always trying new things, always spoiling us.” He laughs. “And my dad, well, he’s your classic dad. Quiet, but caring. You should’ve seen him when I graduated university, got all choked up—I’ve never seen him so emotional before.” He pauses, a nostalgic look in his eyes. “They used to drive my brother and me to a whole different town just so we could play hockey—never missed a game or a school event.”

You feel yourself drawn in, pulled by the mundane beauty of what he’s describing. The picture he paints is a world away from what you’ve known, yet there’s something so alluring, so...possible about it that it stirs something in you. A strange longing, a memory of a life that could never be, echoes faintly through your mind.

“What was that like?” you ask softly, not even sure he’ll answer, but he surprises you.

“Safe,” he says, looking right at you, as though he knows you need to hear it. “It felt safe. Like no matter what happened out there, there was always a place to come back to.”

The silence between you feels heavier now, carrying words unspoken, secrets untold. But for a fleeting moment, you let yourself imagine—just for a little while—what it might feel like to have that too.

The conversation settles into a comfortable silence, both of you focused on your plates as the weight of his words lingers in the air.

“So,” he says after a while, setting down his knife with a thoughtful expression. “How long do I get to enjoy your company here in Paris?”

You meet his gaze, a slow, amused smile forming. “Well, that all depends on you, doesn’t it? How long are you here for?”

He leans back, his expression light but his eyes intent. “I’ll be around for the next couple of weeks,” he says, fingers tapping idly on the table. “Exploring, finding the hidden corners of the city.” There’s a pause, and then his smile shifts, turning almost playful. “You should come with me. Two tourists, no plans. Let’s explore together.”

“A bit eager, aren’t we?” you say, tilting your head with a raised brow.

He grins, leaning forward just a little. “What can I say? Don’t wanna lose sight of you again.”

There’s something layered in his words, a glint in his eyes that suggests he may be speaking more truth than he lets on, but you can’t quite pin down what it means. He’s either a very convincing actor or just naturally this mysterious, and you can’t decide which one makes him more dangerous.

You take the final bite of your meal, letting his invitation sink in as you weigh your options. A simple "no" would be easy. Safe. But something inside you is intrigued, drawn to the thrill of the unknown he represents—a thrill so rare for you it’s almost intoxicating.

Finally, you set down your fork and look up at him with a slight smirk. “All right,” you say, voice casual but steady. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

His face brightens, the guardedness dropping ever so slightly. “Perfect,” he says, looking genuinely pleased. “Let’s see where the city leads us.”

The city, or rather Nico, leads you through winding streets and narrow alleys, his arm still linked with yours, his steps unhurried as though he has all the time in the world. There’s an ease to his movements, his glances at you are light and almost boyish, as if you’re both just a pair of tourists enjoying a quiet afternoon. Yet, beneath it all, there’s a tension that winds between you—a silent ache that pulls tighter with every look and every laugh.

You pause by tiny cafés and quaint kiosks, sampling pastries and sipping espresso from delicate cups. At one stop, he takes your picture in front of a flowering tree, snapping a few from different angles until he gets the best shot. At another, he buys you a small trinket from a street vendor—an inexpensive little charm shaped like the Eiffel Tower. You murmur a thank you, clutching it in your hand, the warmth of the gesture somehow surprising.

Yet, in the back of your mind, you can’t shake the thought of the vial of poison and the small dagger nestled in your purse, waiting for the moment you’re supposed to make your move.

You imagine your life after he’s gone.

The assignments will continue, the wealth will accumulate. And then every so often, you’ll look on your shelves and see these small ornaments and think of your time walking the hidden streets of Montparnasse. You’ll look at your phone and see these pictures from Paris and they’ll remind you of him snapping the photos as he bent into different angles until he got the best shot. You’ll see the cheap hair clip in your dresser, tucked away in the back amidst other jewelry and accessories you have, and think of how he noticed you wanted it and got it without needing to ask.

Slowly, these mementos will gather dust, hidden in corners of your room, little souvenirs of the man who saw you. Nobody had ever seen just you.

It’s startling and strange, this feeling—this gentle awareness of being seen, of being considered. Until now, you were always someone else’s shadow, ‘Father’s’ instrument. You were trained to be invisible, an extension of his will and no more. But Nico isn’t like that. His gaze lingers, soft and genuine, as though he’s curious about what lies beneath the surface.

You shake off the thoughts and try to focus on the moment. There’s still time before you’re meant to make your move, time enough to let yourself enjoy the rest of the day. Just for now, you decide to let yourself exist in this quiet, stolen happiness.

Eventually, Nico leads you up a tower to a viewing deck where the city sprawls beneath you in an endless expanse of rooftops and streets. The Eiffel Tower rises in the distance, a towering symbol of the city, so far away yet it feels within reach, as though you could stretch your hand out and touch it. The evening light casts long shadows, painting the Paris skyline in shades of amber and rose, the kind of beauty you’d only ever seen in your dreams.

"So," Nico murmurs as you approach the edge of the deck, his voice low, almost reverent. "What do you think?"

You glance at him, taking in the slight, an almost vulnerable expression that flickers over his face as he watches you, waiting for a response. The view, the quiet intimacy of the moment, all of it makes the silence heavier. And for a split second, you allow yourself to forget who you are, who he is—to forget the guilt that’s rising inside you. Right now, you’re just Y/N, a girl seeing Paris for the first time, with someone who—if things were different—might have become a part of your life in another way.

“It’s beautiful,” you reply softly, though your words feel too simple, too small for everything swirling inside you.

He studies you, his gaze lingering with a weight that makes your heart beat just a little faster. “I figured you’d appreciate it. It seemed…fitting.”

“Fitting?” you echo, glancing sideways, a faint smile on your lips.

He shrugs, his hands slipping into his pockets as he steps closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. “For a girl who seems to belong everywhere and nowhere all at once.” He smirks, and there’s that gleam again, that sense he’s peering through the walls you’ve so carefully constructed. “You don’t stay still, do you?”

“No,” you say softly, the words falling from your lips with ease. “I travel a lot for work.” You pause, the silence thickening before you add, “The family business.”

He nods, his gaze steady, as if processing your words with more attention than you expected.

“My Father can be…strict about leaving, about staying in one place for too long,” you continue, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “Says it can be dangerous. It’s his way of showing he cares.” You say it, but even to your own ears, it sounds hollow, like you’re trying to convince yourself of something you’ve never quite believed.

His expression shifts, an intensity in his eyes that almost feels like he’s seeing right through you. For a fleeting moment, you wonder if you should tell him everything. Lay it all out in the open, be honest for once in your life, and admit the truth: I’m here to kill you. It feels almost tempting, the release of that burden, especially after the small kindnesses he’s shown you. But as you look at him, something inside you twists. The idea of telling him what you really came for feels like a betrayal, one that goes deeper than the job at hand.

You tilt your head slightly, meeting his gaze with a quiet challenge. “You seem to be running too.”

The smirk fades, replaced by something solemn, almost haunted. “Maybe I am,” he admits, surprising you with the vulnerability in his tone. “But Paris feels…different. Nice.” He hesitates, glancing down at the city below before meeting your gaze. “It’s good to feel grounded, even if it's just for a little while.”

The simplicity of his words catches you off guard, and something within you softens, cracking the thin armor you keep in place. In another life, you might have wanted this—the city, the warmth of his hand, the glint in his eyes. A life where you’re not constantly looking over your shoulder or running from the darkness that’s haunted you since childhood.

“So you’ll stay, then?” you ask, the question falling from your lips before you can second-guess it.

Nico chuckles softly, but it’s a sound tinged with something sad, something fleeting. “Long enough, I hope,” he replies, his voice barely more than a whisper, as though he’s already aware that time is running out for both of you.

You look back to the skyline, your gaze lingering on the Eiffel Tower glowing faintly in the dusk. You should be thinking about logistics, about his weaknesses, about how you’ll manage to complete this mission without the complications he’s bringing out in you. But instead, your attention is elsewhere, caught in the warmth of his proximity, in the fleeting tenderness of this moment. His hand brushes against yours, just the lightest graze of fingertips, and a strange pull stirs deep inside you.

The silence between you stretches out, heavy with the weight of things neither of you dares to speak. It’s fragile, this connection, and it feels like it could shatter with a single word, a single choice. But for now, neither of you makes it. Neither of you dares to break the fragile calm.

“In another life,” he says after a beat, his voice quieter now, as if mulling over the thought, “I think I would have played hockey.”

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. “Hockey?” You laugh softly, amused, but the intrigue lingers.

He glances at you, his expression wistful. “Yeah. My brother and I played growing up. It’s what he’s doing now—he plays professionally.” He turns back to the view, his gaze distant, as if lost in the memory. “I think I would’ve liked that too.”

You hum, your mind wandering to your own past—those moments you never allowed yourself to think about too deeply. “I don’t know what I would’ve been,” you admit.

His gaze sharpens, sensing the quiet weight behind your words. “No?” he asks, his voice soft but probing.

You shake your head, feeling the familiar tightness in your chest. “Father always told us not to dwell on impossibilities. Said it was a waste of time. So, I don’t.”

There’s a brief silence, a gap between you, as Nico processes your words. His eyes flicker to the horizon, but his attention never strays too far from you.

“Well,” he pressed, the question gentle yet insistent, “What did you enjoy as a kid? Surely there’s something—something you loved, even for just a moment?”

You close your eyes, the memories swarming, distant and fragmented. The orphanage, the cold walls of ‘Father’s’ estate, the endless missions, the calculated steps you were taught to take. They blur together in an unbroken chain, all leading you to the person you are now. But there’s little more than blood and monotonous days.

“I don’t know, actually.” Your voice is soft, almost a whisper, as the weight of the realization settles over you. “I just…did what I was told to do.” It sounds hollow, even to you. A life spent living by someone else’s rules, devoid of anything truly yours.

“You can always start now,” he says quietly, turning to face you fully, his eyes intent and unwavering. “I mean, you came here on a whim, didn’t you? Surely, that counts for something. It was a choice, even if a small one.”

You chuckle, the sound escaping softer than you intended, and meet his gaze. “It might be too late for me,” you murmur, feeling the weight of your words settle between you. Part of you wonders if he can see past your deflection, to the fear simmering beneath it.

He shakes his head, a flicker of resolve crossing his face. “My dad used to tell me that people change as often as the wind changes directions.” His eyes meet yours, piercing yet gentle, holding a challenge you didn’t expect—or maybe a plea. “It’s never too late,” he says, his voice dropping, the sincerity clear. “Not even for you.”

You don’t get a chance to kill him that day—or the days that follow. Somehow, time keeps stretching between you, days folding into nights and back into days. You still carry your bag, its hidden arsenal of a dagger, poison, and an anesthetic always on hand if the right moment arises. But each day, that moment slips further out of reach.

In the days after that first encounter, you and Nico drift through Paris, claiming the city as if it’s yours alone. Together, you cover every iconic landmark—standing in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower as its lights sparkle above, wandering the vast halls of the Louvre, where he teases you about different statues and their poses, and insists that he point out and then mimic every half-smiling portrait you come across. He surprises you with his knowledge of art, the Renaissance, and even Latin, which he learned in school and continued through university. When you reveal you also know the language, it becomes a game, a shared secret as you converse exclusively in Latin for hours, drawing amused looks from strangers and fits of laughter between you two.

He takes you to hidden corners of the city he’s uncovered on his own—the quiet Canal St. Martin, where you dangle your feet over the edge, watching swans glide past as you sip wine together. You learn a lot about him from your day here as he regales you with stories of his childhood: mischievous pranks with his brother, run-ins with strict teachers, and wild nights from his university days. You don’t have many anecdotes to share, but you do tell him carefully curated pieces of a past filled with botany and gardening, though you omit the lessons in toxicology and the purpose behind knowing which plants to avoid—or harvest.

One afternoon, you wander through the ancient arches of the Musée de Cluny, and he spins a story of a different era, playfully declaring you both a lord and lady sneaking away from the prying eyes of nobility, relishing the thrill of being together in secret. For a fleeting moment, you feel swept away by the fantasy, nearly forgetting the truth as you and him find solace in making playful and risqué conversation in hidden corners of the museum, your faces getting dangerously close to one another’s.

He brings you to unassuming cafés, bustling markets, and winding streets that all seem to have stories of their own—each location now carrying traces of you and Nico, building memories you never planned to make. You rate the coffee and croissants with mock seriousness, shop for souvenirs and trinkets neither of you need, and get hopelessly lost trying to find your next destination, only to laugh when you end up exactly where you started.

And every day, the armaments in your bag grow heavier as you begin to wonder when, or even if, you’ll ever use them.

You find yourself unwinding in his presence, relaxing into the rhythm of the city beside him where even the smallest, most ordinary parts of Paris feel enchanted. His hand often brushes against yours as you walk, or he catches your gaze and holds it a beat too long, a subtle invitation hidden within each glance and touch.

Today, he brings you to the Wall of Love in Montmartre, where countless couples gather, drawn by the allure of seeing “I love you” written in over 250 languages. The blue tiles shimmer with red letters scattered across the wall, each phrase a declaration whispered across the world and etched here—a universal symbol of love and longing.

He pauses in front of the wall, his gaze soft as he reads a few of the phrases. As they often do these days, his fingers brush against yours, light and unhurried, as if savoring the contact. When he speaks, his voice is low, reverent, as though the moment demands a quiet respect.

“Look at this,” he murmurs, tracing one of the lines with his eyes. “So many ways to say the same thing. Even if people don’t understand each other, they understand…this.” He gestures to the wall, his hand grazing yours in a way that sends a shiver up your spine.

You look up, taking in the mosaic of languages and emotions woven together on the wall, words you may never fully understand yet somehow feel, even here, in the silence between you. You wonder if he’s trying to tell you something with his own actions, if he’s hinting at something deeper beneath his words. The moment feels suspended in time—a fragment of connection forever binding you to this place and each other.

For that brief, fragile moment, you’re just two people in Paris, a part of the world where love and connection persist against all odds. The weight of the dagger and vials in your bag fades, his presence anchoring you to the present. It’s enough—almost too much.

Yet, even as your heart flutters, there’s a part of you wound tight, like a coil ready to spring. You tell yourself it’s because you need to stay focused, that letting your guard down even slightly could cost you everything. But every time he meets your gaze, the edges of your resolve blur, replaced by something nameless and terrifyingly real.

“Have you ever felt that?” he asks, his tone almost tentative, as though he’s not used to letting anyone in. “A feeling you don’t even have to translate. It just…is.”

His question catches you off guard, slicing through whatever shield you’re still trying to keep intact. You look at him, unsure of what to say, and then, with a carefully neutral smile, you reply, “I wouldn’t know.”

He looks at you for a long moment, as if he’s seeing you for the first time. “Maybe it’s not too late to find out,” he says softly, as though he’s suggesting something that has the power to change everything.

And for a moment, you wonder what could happen if you could let yourself feel, let yourself know what it means to be more than just a weapon. What would your life look like then?

The question lingers between you, silent and electric, and you feel it—your heart beating too fast, filled with a hope that you’d be able to stay in this moment just a little longer.

That night, he takes you to dinner at the hotel restaurant where you’re seated at a cozy, dimly lit corner. It’s the kind of place where the music is soft and the waitstaff almost invisible, giving you the sense that this moment belongs entirely to the two of you. You share a perfectly seared steak and a rich pasta dish, complemented by a bottle of red wine that he insists on pouring for you since there is apparently a ‘proper’ way to pour wine. The food is delicious, but the real highlight is the conversation—sharp, teasing banter that’s layered with the kind of teasing that’s come to define your time together.

“Superpowers are supposed to come with weaknesses,” he huffs, swirling his wine as he gives you a mock-serious look. “Yours, though? Too overpowered.”

You smirk, slicing off a piece of steak and savoring it slowly before answering. “Time control isn't as powerful as everyone makes it out to be,” you counter with a casual shrug. “I mean, have you seen the people who have these powers? Most of them are absolute idiots.”

“See, that’s exactly what I’m saying. You’re smart. Tactical. Absolutely stunning.” He leans in, his voice dropping just enough to make your heart skip. “You’re dangerous.”

His gaze holds you captive, his eyes twinkling with that strange mix of admiration and mystery that you’ve come to recognize. There’s a glimmer of something in his expression, something that suggests he sees you more clearly than you’d like—an unsettling thought, yet one you can’t seem to shake. You smile, hoping it masks the way his words make you feel, the faint warmth that they stir against your better judgment.

“If you only knew,” you reply lightly, reaching for your glass to steady yourself.

Before he can answer, his phone buzzes on the table, its screen lighting up with a notification. He glances down, and his expression shifts—serious, as though the world outside your bubble has come crashing in. He looks back at you, and there’s an almost apologetic look in his eyes.

“Work,” he says simply, pushing his chair back as he stands. “Give me a few minutes?”

You nod, watching as he steps away from the table, disappearing through a side door to take the call. As soon as he’s out of sight, the warmth and playfulness of the evening evaporates, leaving you in silence, alone with the untouched glasses and the low hum of the restaurant around you.

You glance down at his glass, still half-full, a perfect vessel for the vial of poison you carry in your bag. It’s as if the universe itself has laid this moment out for you, a seamless opportunity wrapped in the elegance of the night. The decision lies before you, chilling and familiar, and you reach into your bag, fingers brushing the cool glass of the vial.

Your heart races, your pulse pounding against the quiet that’s settled around you, and you feel the weight of the past few days hanging in the air. You tell yourself this is just another assignment, that you’re here to do a job—but you can’t shake the look in his eyes from moments before, the way he seemed to see you as something more than just a stranger passing through his life.

The guilt seeps deeper, harder to shake than ever. And it’s not just guilt now; it’s something more—a gnawing certainty that you’ll regret this moment forever if you follow through. You’ll live with the memory of Paris, with his laughter and the streets you wandered together, haunted by the lingering, unanswerable what-if.

But you also know what needs to be done, and you steel yourself, feeling the familiar resolve settle in, as cold and unyielding as the vial in your hand.

As you twist open the vial, preparing to pour the poison into his glass, your resolve falters. The weight in your hand suddenly feels unbearable. And then, almost involuntarily, you snap the vial shut and tuck it back into your purse, just as swiftly as you’d pulled it out.

Not tonight. You still have a little more time. There’s no need to ruin this evening; you’ll let yourself have this, one final night untouched by duty.

When he returns to the table, his expression is tinged with disappointment, and he slips back into his chair with a sigh. “Looks like we’ll have to cancel our trip to the gardens tomorrow morning,” he says, a faint apology in his voice. “There’s something I need to take care of.”

You nod, feeling an odd relief flood through you. “It must be important,” you say, the words coming out with a quiet, unexpected understanding.

He watches you for a moment, something warm in his gaze. “Yeah. But meet me in the lobby at 10 p.m.” He leans forward, that familiar spark lighting up his eyes. “I’ve got something I want to show you.”

You smile, feeling the tension begin to loosen. “It’s a date, then.”

And in that moment, it feels like it really could be.

After dinner, with the warmth of the wine still buzzing in your veins, he offers you his arm for the short walk to the elevator. You’re both a little giddy, leaning into each other as you talk about small things—favorite flowers, favorite colors. Mundane details that you usually wouldn’t think twice about sharing, but now they feel oddly significant, like small secrets passed between you in the quiet of the evening.

Neither of you realize you’ve stepped off on the wrong floor—his floor—until you’re standing at the door to his room. You pause, staring at the unfamiliar numbers on the door, a surge of nerves rising in your chest. You could laugh it off, step back and blame it on the wine, let the moment slip away. But instead, you find yourself rooted in place, unwilling to pull back, unable to let go of him just yet.

When you look up, you find him already watching you, his gaze heavy, something unnamed flickering behind his eyes. The silence thickens, and the air between you crackles with a tension neither of you are willing to break. You’re close enough to see the way his eyes linger on you, as if he’s caught in a moment he doesn’t want to end.

Then, as if in silent agreement, he turns to face you fully, leaning down. And you, almost instinctively, rise onto your toes to meet him halfway. The kiss is tentative at first, soft and searching, but it quickly deepens, growing heated as his hands slide to your hips, pulling you against him. Your arms wind around his neck, and he holds you closer, the kiss turning into something heady and electric, filling you with a rush that’s terrifying in its familiarity.

It’s as if you’ve been here before, in another life where things were simpler, where there were no secrets and no deadly consequences. And in that moment, you can’t help but let yourself sink into it, feeling everything you’ve ever felt in the safety of his embrace.

By the time you finally break apart, your back is pressed against the wall beside his door, his hands framing your face as he stays close, his breath warm against your skin. You’re both breathing heavily, the quiet hum of the hallway the only sound around you, as if the world itself has faded to give you this stolen moment. His eyes flicker over your face, studying every detail as if trying to memorize it, and you feel an ache settle in your chest at how vulnerable he seems in this dim light.

He leans in again, his lips ghosting over yours, hesitant, as if he’s asking for permission that neither of you should be giving. His hands shift, sliding to the small of your back, pulling you against him once more, and you’re keenly aware of every point of contact, of the warmth radiating between you that seems to make time stand still. It’s almost too much, and yet, it’s not enough at all.

You close your eyes, your resolve blurring like mist, as he presses a trail of soft, lingering kisses along your jaw, down to your neck, each one more deliberate than the last. A shiver runs through you, and you clutch his shoulders, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring yourself to this fleeting reality.

“Nico,” you whisper, barely audible, as if saying his name out loud might break whatever spell you’re under. He pulls back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze, his own eyes darkened with something unspoken, something that feels just as dangerous as the feelings swirling within you.

Without another word, he turns and, still holding you close, reaches for the keycard. The door clicks open, and in a quiet invitation, he leads you inside, his hand never leaving yours. Inside, the room is dimly lit by the streetlights filtering through the curtains, casting a soft glow over everything, lending it a dreamlike quality. You step in, and he closes the door softly behind you, a final barrier between you and the outside world.

For a brief moment, you stand in the center of the room, facing each other, as if testing the reality of this moment. His hand remains on yours, his thumb tracing slow circles over your skin, and you feel the weight of all the words you haven’t said, all the truths you’ve hidden. But right now, they feel so far away, overshadowed by the nearness of him, by the quiet intensity that draws you closer still.

You’re both silent, the tension between you simmering just below the surface, until he reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your cheek. It’s a simple gesture, but it sends a rush through you, and before you can overthink it, you find yourself leaning forward, closing the space between you once more.

The kiss quickly spirals into a whirlwind of sensations, a chaotic blend of tongues and breathy moans that echo softly in the dim light enveloping the room. His hands, warm and confident, glide down your waist, finding their way to your ass, fingers curling around it with a firm squeeze that sends a shiver coursing through you. As his lips trail from your mouth to the curve of your neck, the intoxicating way he devours you leaves you gasping for more.

He lifts you effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, drawing him closer as if the distance between your bodies could somehow separate the energy pulsing between you. In one swift motion, he throws you onto the bed, the soft mattress cradling you as it folds under your weight.

For a brief moment, he breaks the kiss, his deep-set gaze searching yours with a mix of urgency and desire. As he peels off his shirt, the dim light casts a glow over his chest, revealing scars—stories etched into his skin—that tell tales of battles fought and survived. You reach out, letting your fingers wander over the uneven terrain of his torso, tracing the outlines of those marks as though they hold a significance only you can understand.

He captures your hand in his, planting a soft, lingering kiss on the inside of your wrist, the touch conveying a tenderness that starkly contrasts the fervor of the moment. It’s a gentle reminder of the man you’ve come to know, the complexities beneath the surface that lie just beyond the heat of desire.

As he positions himself above you, his arms forming a protective barrier on either side, the intimacy of the moment grows palpable. Every part of you ignites under his watchful gaze.

“Tell me you want this,” he breathes, his voice low and barely above a whisper.

Your heart races as you reach up, cupping his face with your palm, and you draw him down for a tender kiss, soft yet electric, filled with unspoken promises. “I want you,” you murmur against his lips, surrendering to the impulses that have plagued you since you’d reunited.

A spark ignites in his eyes, darkening with desire that mirrors your own. In that moment, the world outside fades away, and there’s only the two of you, lost in a dance of want and need and maybe something more, something unspoken.

Tomorrow you’d blame all this on the wine and the Paris atmosphere, but tonight? Tonight, he’s all yours.

By the time you wake, the room is drenched in the light of a quiet morning, and he’s already gone. You’d expected it, but the emptiness of the vast hotel room lingers, a reminder of the intimacy that filled it just hours ago. Your body aches, the dull soreness a vivid reminder that what happened last night was no dream. You run your fingers over the faint marks he left on your skin, each one like a silent promise, a testament to your night together that bled into the early hours of the morning.

You turn and find a neatly folded bathrobe on the chair beside the bed, a bowl of fruit, a pitcher of water, and a note. You unfold it, catching your breath as you read:

Thank you for last night. You were amazing, the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.

A quiet laugh escapes you, and you shake your head. Of course, he’d thank you for something you both wanted, as if last night had been some favor you’d done for him. Your eyes skim the note, the faintest warmth creeping up your cheeks as you read the next line.

Stay as long as you want. Just remember to meet me at the lobby at 10 p.m. I have a surprise for you.

His signature trails off at the end, barely legible, a scrawl that feels both intimate and endearing. You find yourself tracing the curves and edges of his handwriting, as if somehow it can hold you here, hold you to him, even as reality waits for you on the other side of this door. You clutch the note to your chest, swallowing hard against the feeling building inside—a quiet, sinking ache that whispers of the inevitable.

For just a moment, you let yourself fall into the delusion that this could somehow become part of your life beyond this moment, this city, this tangled web of secrets you’re both keeping. But deep down, you know better. Whatever this was, however fleeting or real, it was doomed from the start.

The softness of his touch, the laughter that lingered through the night—all of it will eventually be filed away as just another memory, another ghost from another life.

You close your eyes, clutching the note just a little tighter, feeling the weight of all that’s left unsaid between you. He’d left marks on you, physical and otherwise, reminders that would remain long after you’d finally carried out your mission. You were meant to be unbreakable, and yet here you were, on the edge of something that threatened to pull you under completely.

And as the morning sunlight filters through the curtains, it hits you fully—you are utterly, royally, and completely fucked.

At 10 p.m. on the dot, you’re waiting in the lobby, the anticipation almost unbearable.

And then you see him, standing by the entrance, his silhouette softened by the warm glow of the lights. When he sees you, his face lights up, his smile tender as he steps closer, reaching out a hand to caress your cheek. His thumb brushes against your skin, and for a moment, the world narrows to the warmth of his touch.

"Hi," he murmurs, his gaze steady, warm. “How was your day?”

The gentleness in his voice and the easy way he looks at you tells you everything he can’t say outright—that he doesn’t regret a thing. There’s still a tension between you, but it’s softer now, more grounded, something that feels like it’s become part of the air you share.

“It was good,” you reply, lifting your hand to cover his, savoring the warmth that seeps from his skin to yours. “Thank you for the fruit.”

"Just wanted to make sure you were taken care of,” he laughs softly, the sound warm and familiar, “Come. I wanna show you something nice." His fingers slip between yours, his grip firm but unhurried as he pulls you towards the door.

You give him a playful smirk as you follow, feigning skepticism. “Something nicer than what we’ve seen already? You’re setting the bar awfully high.”

He chuckles, glancing over his shoulder with a glint in his eye. “It’s my favorite spot around here,” he says, a note of something deeper lingering in his tone. "I wanted you to see it, too."

The streets of Paris are quieter at this hour, the hum of the city softened as the evening deepens. Hand in hand, you walk through winding alleys and past dimly lit cafés, his fingers laced with yours grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. The conversation is light, snippets of dreams and half-whispered thoughts, but you both feel the weight of the silence between words, the unspoken sense that this night means more than either of you dare to admit.

Eventually, he leads you to an inconspicuous building, old stone framed by wrought-iron accents, the kind of place you’d pass by without a second thought. He releases your hand for a moment to unlock a side door, glancing back at you with a mischievous grin.

“Are you bringing me somewhere I won’t be able to find my way out of?” you tease, the words playful but carrying the faintest edge, as if part of you is still wary, still on guard.

But he just laughs, a low, reassuring sound as he steps inside, gesturing for you to follow. “You’ll have to trust me on this one.”

He guides you up a narrow, winding staircase, the only sounds your footsteps echoing off the stone walls. With each floor, you feel a faint thrill building, your pulse quickening as the city outside draws farther and farther away, until finally, he opens a door and you step out onto the rooftop.

The view is breathtaking.

Paris stretches out before you, the city unfolding in all directions, a sea of lights glistening under the deep indigo sky. The Eiffel Tower shimmers in the distance, its glow a warm, steady pulse against the night. The Seine snakes through the city, its surface reflecting the light like a thread of silver weaving through shadows.

He comes up beside you, close enough that his shoulder brushes yours, and the silence that falls between you is comfortable, heavy with something unspoken. He doesn’t say anything, letting the view speak for itself, and you find yourself grateful for the quiet, for this moment that feels somehow suspended from everything else, a stolen piece of time that exists only for the two of you.

You glance at him, catching the way he’s watching the skyline with a reverence that tells you this city means something deeper to him, something that goes beyond words. When he finally turns to look at you, there’s an intensity in his gaze, a softness that makes you forget, for a split second, all the reasons you’re here.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, as if the quiet could somehow protect this fragile peace, as if speaking too loudly might shatter whatever spell holds you both here.

He nods, his gaze drifting out over the city before shifting back to you, his eyes unreadable. “It is,” he murmurs. Then he pauses, his gaze softening but sharpening all at once, layers of unspoken thought flickering there. “Some things are more beautiful when you see them for what they truly are.”

His words settle between you like a dare cloaked in careful phrasing, wrapped in a fragile honesty that you aren’t sure you’re ready to unfold.

You don’t answer him. A part of you is afraid of what he’s implying—what he’s already begun to see. So instead, you simply stand next to him, your shoulders brushing, as you take in the Paris skyline. The world below is a vast glittering sea of lights and lives, yet everything you care about in this moment is standing right beside you.

The silence between you feels heavier now. The night air is cool, a breeze brushing past, yet the weight of his words clings to you, pressing in. This moment feels more fragile than anything else so far, as if it could fracture at the slightest touch. The weight of the armaments resting in your purse suddenly feels unbearably heavy, its presence inescapable.

“So,” he says finally, breaking the silence, his voice lower, rougher, edged with a tension that matches your own. He turns to you fully, his eyes piercing in a way that’s almost challenging yet laced with something like hurt. “When are you gonna kill me?”

You freeze, his words cutting through the delicate peace, a shocking confirmation that he’s known, maybe all along. You snap your head toward him, eyes wide with disbelief, the weight of what you carry crashing over you.

His gaze is unrelenting, holding you to the spot, as if daring you to answer.

“You knew,” you say quietly, as if speaking louder might unravel you entirely.

"I've known since Germany," he admits. His gaze sharpens, but his voice is calm, almost careful. “You’re not going to deny it?”

You swallow, the weight of being caught pressing down on you, but nothing can dull the ache settling over your heart—the pain of knowing that somehow, you’ve brought him to this. Your hand drifts toward your purse, fingers grazing the cold metal of the dagger. You started this dance, and now you’re bound to finish it.

The familiar sound of the blade flicking open doesn’t startle him; he remains perfectly still, his expression calm, almost resigned, but there’s a flash of hurt beneath his steady gaze. He looks at you as if bracing himself for what you’ll do next, yet refusing to flinch, like he’s known this would come and decided to face it head-on.

“You should start moving,” you murmur, your voice barely steady as you raise the blade, the tip just inches from his chest. “I could kill you where you stand.”

His lips twitch in the faintest hint of a smile, a mix of defiance and sorrow as he takes a step forward, so close now he could almost lean into the blade. “You could,” he says, voice steady. His hand reaches out, wrapping around your wrist, pulling it—and the blade—down to your side with a gentle but unyielding strength. “But I don’t think you will.”

Your grip on the dagger tightens, but his words unravel something in you. He studies you intently, his face inches from yours, his voice low. “You could have killed me at any time—probably should have. I gave you every opportunity to finish this. So why am I still breathing?”

The question slices through the silence between you, barbed with challenge but tinged with something else, something that sounds heartbreakingly like hope.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, unable to meet his eyes as the blade dangles uselessly from your grip. It’s close to the truth, but you know he’s not satisfied with it.

He steps closer, his hand still firm on your wrist. “I think you do, Y/N.” His voice softens when he says your name, like it’s something precious, something he’s been holding close all this time.

“I don’t,” you say, shaking your head, even as the words feel hollow. “I don’t.”

“You do. I know you do.” He leans in, lifting his other hand to cup your face, tilting it so you’re forced to look at him, his touch gentle against the raw tension hanging between you. “Tell me I wasn’t wrong about this. Please.” His eyes search yours, pleading, as if he’s hoping that whatever truth you have left to give will be enough to make sense of this chaos.

The weight of it all—the tension, the longing, the fear—crashes over you like a wave you can’t fight. The dagger slips from your hand, clattering uselessly to the ground as you sink to your knees, your shoulders trembling. “You aren’t wrong,” you murmur, unable to look up at him, unable to face the full force of what you’ve confessed.

Silence settles as he watches you, his expression softening, and for the first time in as long as you can remember, you feel utterly exposed, stripped bare beneath the weight of his gaze. And, impossibly, he kneels down beside you, his hand brushing yours, wordlessly reassuring you that he’s still here.

“Then come with me,” he says quietly, his voice barely a whisper, as if afraid to break the fragile trust that’s woven between you, “Run away with me and we can leave this all behind.”

You don’t miss the desperation in his voice, the way he’s so set on leaving the underworld, as if he already knows exactly how he’ll escape it.

Then it hits you like a wave crashing to the shore—he was always going to leave. One way or another, Paris was going to be his last stand, his final act before he vanished. For good.

“You were never going to stay, were you?” The words leave your mouth in a rush, sharp with the sting of your realization. Tears well up in your eyes as you lift them to meet his.

He nods, his expression unwavering. “These past few months have been my last mission for the government.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small, cylindrical remote with a red button on top. “I infiltrated the warehouses from your father’s organization, taking what the government wanted me to and leaving behind…a present.” His gaze locks onto yours, filled with an intensity that cuts through the night. “Paris was my last stop.”

Your heart drops as the weight of his words sinks in. He’s going to destroy them all. Every warehouse from Prague to Italy to Paris, every asset, every last piece of ‘Father’s’ empire—all of it was going to blow to pieces at the push of a button. The very thing you’ve spent your entire life in service of, your family's empire, your future—all of it gone in the blink of an eye.

You should have been furious. Should have attacked him in that moment, fury and vengeance bubbling up inside you. Instead, something else surfaces. A soft laugh escapes you, one that’s equal parts incredulous and impressed. You smile at him, a genuine expression that seems to surprise even yourself.

“You outplayed me. All of us.”

He doesn’t respond at first, just looks at you with a mixture of regret and admiration. The tension between you has shifted. He knows what he’s done, what he’s about to do, and yet—there’s something about the way he leans into your touch when you reach for his face that makes you hesitate.

For a split second, you wonder if there’s still a chance for both of you. Or if everything you thought you knew was simply another game, one you didn’t even know you were losing.

“Ask me a question,” you say finally, your voice low and steady as your hand moves to gently tangle in his soft hair. “Anything. And I’ll answer it.”

He looks at you, a mix of amusement and confusion flickering across his face, before he nods, settling into the moment. “Is Y/N your real name?”

The question isn’t what you expected, but it’s also exactly what you needed. You smile, a tear slipping down your cheek that you quickly wipe away, a quiet laugh escaping your lips. He could have asked about anything—your work, sensitive details of ‘Father’s’ organization that only you were privy to, any of the secrets you’ve carried for years. Instead, he wanted to know about you.

It’s then that you realize the depth of what you’re willing to do for him. You make a choice. One that saves him. Even at the cost of yourself.

“It’s what they called me at the orphanage,” you tell him, your voice softening. You take his hand in yours, grounding yourself in the warmth of his touch. “The one I stayed in before father took me in. It’s who I was before I became father’s Shadow.”

He furrows his brows, looking at you with a quiet curiosity. “That’s what they call you, right? Shadow?”

You smile, the corners of your mouth lifting faintly. “I’m not as strong as Punch or as quick as Lightning,” you explain, your fingers tracing patterns on the back of his hand. “But I’m sneaky. Agile. Unassuming to most people. No one ever sees me coming until the last second.” You inhale deeply, the weight of your next words pressing heavily on your chest. “But they call me Shadow because I was the most obedient. I did everything he asked of me, never questioned him, even when I knew something wasn’t right. I followed father everywhere. I was…his shadow.”

A look of concern crosses his face, the sadness in your voice not lost on him. He leans in, his hand tightening around yours, and there’s a softness in his eyes that makes the sting of your past feel like it might just be bearable. But the moment is fleeting. You know what’s coming next.

“Thank you for believing I can change,” you whisper, your heart heavy with the unspoken truth. Even when you thought there was no way out, when you saw no escape, he believed in you. He wanted to believe in you, wanted to have you leave this all behind with him. And that belief stirs something deep inside you.

You pull away from him gently, reaching into your purse. The soft rustle of fabric sounds loud in the silence of the room as you retrieve the remaining arsenals—a vial of poison and a syringe of anesthetic.

You take both of his hands in yours, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. The taste of regret and longing lingers on your lips.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you say quietly, your voice breaking ever so slightly. A second kiss follows, this time slower, lingering just a moment too long. “Let me take care of you now.”

His eyes soften, his trust in you so complete that he doesn’t notice the quick movement of your hand as you grab the syringe with the anesthetic. You press it into his arm with practiced precision, the needle sinking into his skin. His gaze remains on you for a moment longer, confusion flickering across his features as the drug takes hold.

He loses his grip on the remote, it falling from his hand as he slumps back, the weight of the anesthetic bringing him near unconsciousness. You don’t hesitate. You pick up the remote and sit beside him, watching as he fights the sleep that crawls steadily toward him, his breath shallow and labored.

“Y/N,” he chokes out, his voice thick with the confusion and panic of fading consciousness. “What are you doing?”

“It’s okay,” you smile, though the fear in your eyes is undeniable, “I’ll take care of myself. So, you go out and live on. Be happy, okay? For me?”

“Don’t do this,” he slurs, his words starting to lose coherence. “We can leave together.”

You shake your head, tears welling up again, blurring your vision as they escape down your cheeks. “It’s too late for me.” You gently caress his face, fingers lingering on his skin, tracing every curve of his jaw and the line of his cheek. You commit the image of him to memory, knowing it will be the last time you ever see him like this. It was a shame this wasn’t the last thing you were going to see when this was all over, but at least you could remember it.

A small sob escapes you, but you continue, your voice barely a whisper. “Just so you know, I think I could have loved you more…liked you even more than I do now.” His hand reaches out to grab your wrist, trying to stop you, but you shake it off. The tenderness in his eyes breaks something inside you, but you don’t let it stop you. “I think…we could have had a very happy life together.”

“Y/N, don’t!” His voice is filled with desperation, but it’s too late. He tries to reach for the remote, but the drug has already taken hold of him, and he doesn’t have the strength to stop you. You stand quickly, turning your back to him as he weakly tries to move toward you.

Before he can reach you, you press the button. The room is filled with a sudden, deafening silence that only amplifies the heaviness in your chest. The sound of an explosion rips through the night air, just a ways off in the distance, a harsh reminder of the irreversible decision you’ve just made.

His eyes widen in realization. He’s awake long enough to understand what’s happened, the realization of your fate when you return back to ‘Father’ settling over him like a weight he can’t escape. His gaze flickers, searching your face as the truth sinks in.

Then, his eyelids flutter, the anesthetic pulling him under as the last traces of consciousness fade from his eyes. His body goes limp, his hand falling from his chest, and the last sound you hear from him is a quiet exhale before his eyes close.

You don’t know how exactly how long you sit there, staring at him, the weight of everything you’ve done crashing over you. But there’s no going back. You’ve made your choice.

You chose him.

PART TWO: OUT NOVEMBER 12, 8:00PM ET

#nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier fic #nico hischier au #nh13 #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl #nhl x reader #new jersey devils

44 notes · View notes

cowardlychimera · 2 months ago

Note

*raises hand* Me, me, me! I want the elaboration :3

omg hiii!!

okay first off, my memory sucks so if I get any details wrong please do correct me </3

anyway. Omori killing headspace Basil in the Sunny/true route. first I'd like to bring up how in the Omori/neutral route, when Sunny saves headspace Basil, he has to fight Stranger instead, mirroring the fight with the real Basil in the true route. to continue the game he has to force Stranger to give up, and as a result leave the real Basil to suffer on his own, and kill himself.

in the true route, Omori kills headspace Basil instead, giving Sunny the chance to save the real Basil. he doesn't let him have the option to save headspace Basil, and I think it's because he's challenging Sunny to actually take action for once.

Sunny giving up is a very big theme in the game. he gives up in the lake incident, letting someone else save him instead. he gives up and throws his violin down the stairs instead of speaking up. he gives up and lets Basil deal with Mari's body. he gives up and lets Omori take over. he gives up on reality, choosing his dream world instead.

it's safe to say Omori expects him to give up when faced with the option to save the real Basil. after all, Sunny's been faced with the truth multiple times, and gave up each time too. even Mewo asks if Sunny's waiting for something to happen (instead of taking action and taking the first step: leaving the house).

if he managed to build up the courage to open the door for Kel, surely he can build up the courage to open Basil's door and face him. Omori wants to see if he'll give up. he's challenging him to save the real Basil instead.

and when he does? Omori himself challenges Sunny to a fight instead. maybe he still doesn't think Sunny's capable of making things right. he doesn't think he's capable of accepting and telling the truth. he still expects him to give up. so he challenges him one more time.

I remember Misty pointing out Omori's expression in his final phase and how it looks a bit different compared to before. Misty brought up some pretty good and interesting possibilities, but if his expression did really change, and it's not just the distortion, I think he's actually surprised.

because he's expecting Sunny to give up. but he's not. he's still fighting. he's still standing. he's not giving up. after all these years, he's making a choice for himself. he's always let others make choices for him, always let others save him. but this time Sunny's fighting for himself. for his friends, for Mari, for the truth. he made the choice to try to make things right again when he opened Basil's door. Omori is testing if he really wants to go through with that, forcing him to face every horrible thing he can throw at him.

but he doesn't expect him to actually stand strong. but he is. Omori can't die, can't be defeated. but Sunny's still fighting anyway. Sunny gets back up and plays. plays the song he couldn't before. he does what he had given up on years ago.

and so Omori realizes Sunny isn't going to give up this time. so he steps aside and gives Sunny one last chance to carry on with his choice. he lets him choose between two leaps of faith: one from the roof, and one from Basil's hospital room. Sunny gets to choose which door he opens. and in the true ending?

Sunny chooses the real Basil over the imaginary one. Sunny opens Basil's door.

#wrote this all in one go zero breaks zero rereading so if I messed up anything. shhh <3 (also please read the other tags)#chimera theories #chimera babbles #omori #oauaoaugh. I'll never get over all the damn doors. white space door.. black space doors... the house's front door.#the sliding glass door to the backyard. Basil's door.#they all present Sunny a choice. and Sunny's never been good at making choices for himself.#he's always let everyone make choices for him and speak for him #BUT NOT IN THE TRUE ROUTE!! he chooses for himself to keep living. to tell the truth and reach out. to speak up for himself.#that's why him actually saying the truth in the end is so important. that's why that one lie means everythingg #he can't let Basil hide the truth for him anymore. can't let him make choices for Sunny anymore.#he has to tell the truth himself now.#that's character growth babyyy!!!!!#explodes.

7 notes · View notes

a-little-ray-of-fantasy · 9 months ago

Text

An analysis on how Sir Pentious' character design represents his personality and development perfectly (beware of Hazbin Hotel spoilers)

Let's get this out of the way: Sir Pentious is a snake, an animal mostly known for generally believed negative traits such as poison, deceit and betrayal. We don't know WHY he's in Hell, maybe he was a "snake oil salesman" considering he comes from the Victorian times and he's into hyping up what he does, or maybe he was into war. Thing is, he's a Sinner whose design just scream "Evil".

(BTW, a snake could also represent "fertility": looking at you, Egg Boiz!)

He always had eyes all around him not just because of a stylistic choice.

Sir Pentious always felt like he was watched, and had to watch out for any danger.

"Everyone here is too nice: obviously it must be a lie! I can sense they are planning to kill me, but when?! HOW?! I must be PREPARED!"

Sadly, he's been constantly berated by other demons, far more effective in destruction, status, cruelty and charisma. Alastor won't ever bother to remember him, Cherri always ones up him, and the Vs, the ones he admires to most, won't care less about him.

To the point that Vox sent him as a spy without the intention to save him if things were going to fail. Heck, he even openly tells him to die while calling him a failure.

So of course he's got reasons to have trust issues, or taking everything so seriously, being constantly reminded of what he can't accomplish. So he puts an air of grandure that may be very flamboyant, but is VERY frail.

But, if we have to be frank here, his biggest source of insecurities... is himself.

He has eyes on his tail (his softer, more vulnerable side, which is ironically made even MORE lieable to getting hurt because of how sensitive those organs are), and inside his hood, so he could look out better for danger when on alert mode.

Heck, even the mark on his hood kinda resembles one eye.

Problem is, when you see his hood folded, when he's at ease, neutral or sad, those are not looking at outside sources.

They're looking at him, at his back. A constant stare that happens everytime he lets his guard down and shows how vulnerable he is. A gaze that can sense all of his weakness, his struggles, his insecurities.

And it's all him.

Pentious constantly believes that his inferiority complex will fade away once he'll accomplish something grand that will make others accept him. But he is his biggest critic, his worst enemy: HE is the one who believes he's a failure, that he'll never gain approval from others.

This show takes place in Hell, but this is Sir Pentious' personal Hell: insecurity born out of self hatred. Doomed to feel everyone's gaze upon him, including his own. Believing the danger to his self esteem is from others, when it's really from him.

But then he's accepted at the Hazbin Hotel: Charlie forgives him, he bonds with Angel, Husk and Niffty who don't care a bit about what he's accomplished or not, or what he's done in the past.

He feels more comfortable in showing his vulnerable side, and no one judges him for how easy it is for him to get emotional.

Of course he's still very insecure, considering how he struggles to confess to Cherri, but notice how he stops building machines or planning to attack others as soon as he starts bonding with the others: he doesn't have a reason to destroy or attack, now that he knows he's loved.

And his final design, when he goes to Heaven, shows how much he's changed, yet stayed the same. He may have died a hero, but he's still the same awkward snake we've come to love.

Speaking of love, let's talk about that!

No more eyes on his tail, now it's just on his chest (showing he's opened his heart), his glasses are now heart shaped, and even the markings inside his hood resemble kiss marks more than anything else.

And look: the mark on his hood is now heart shaped!

Why all these hearts? Why did all the eyes disappeared from his body? Even his eyes that were looking at his back?

Simple: love. Love defeated his insecurities and self hatred. He died for love.

He died protecting his friends, his new family, his new home.

He confessed and kissed Cherri knowing full well he wouldn't have made it, and yet he went anyway.

The usually cowardly and timid Pentious actually faced a great danger with courage and determination: he acted selflessly by putting himself in harm's way, he didn't steal (naturally) and by going against Adam he did indeed "stick it to the man"!

He used his weaponry knowhow and battle experience not to conquer, but to save his loved ones.

His only thought up until his demise was: "I'll go down protecting them".

And he's been rewarded not only by becoming an angel, but also being spawned directly in front of Emily and Sera, two Seraphim, the highest rank for an angel to have, who have also been depicted as snakes of fire throughout history! Sir Pentious, the lowly demon considered a failure by everyone, actually has been noticed by the Seraphim! He's come so far!

He's now come to represent the REAL symbolism of a snake: the duality of death and rebirth, transformation and immortality (ironically a reference to the fact he's been around since 1888 without ever dying from any Extermination or blessed weapons).

And isn't so poetic that a snake, the "source of the original evil", was the first sinner to ascend to Heaven? Or that this episode was released on February 1st, or National Serpent Day?

And of course, as the Bible itself says:

"Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends."

(John 15:13)

And knowing him, I'm confident in saying he'll keep helping his friends even in his new position, like the soft hearted noodle he's always been, but was to afraid to show it up until now.

#Vivziepop #Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Hotel Spoilers #Hazbin Spoilers #Sir Pentious #Fave Character #Comfort Character #Personal Rambles #What a wonderful lovable character he turned out to be 🥲#Character Analysis

3K notes · View notes

eddiesxangel · 6 months ago

Text

Never Have I Ever… | E.M x Virgin!Reader

TJ’s 2K Request celebration!

@nailbatanddungeon : “I have a request for youuu. Okay, this is Eddie x Virgin!reader, reader is still new to everything, but there is one thing that the reader needs but is scared to push because the reader is TOUCH STARVED (So am I)”

Cw: reader and Eddie are in their mid to late 20’s, touch starved virgin!reader, angst, fluff, alcohol, throwing up(too much alcohol consumption), hangovers, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v, protected sex. Friends to lovers

WC: 3.1k

I hope you enjoy!! 💗

“You’ll get there; you’re just a late bloomer, is all”

A late bloomer, you’ve heard it your whole life- and you’re sick of it. Sick of feeling behind in life? You’re in your twenties now and getting absolutely shit-faced because you’ve never done anything in this game of never have I ever.

You, Nancy, Steve, Eddie, Robin, Jonathan, and a few others were at the block party, and you somehow ended up involved in the juvenile game.

“Never have I ever kissed the same gender,” you drank.

“Never have I ever dumped anyone,” you drank.

“Never have I ever smoked weed,” you drank.

“Never have I ever said the wrong name in bed.” That’s rich because you’ve never been in a bed with anyone to begin with.

You hadn’t relized how much you’ve had to drink until you stood up.

“Woah, you okay?” You hear Nancy speak as you wobble.

You had wanted to get up and get more to drink because, unlike the others, your cup was empty.

“Yeah.” You tried to get out, but it sounded more like a grunt to the others.

Ignoring their protests, you stumbled your way back to the kitchen, feeling sorry for yourself.

You fumble with the lid of the hard liquor bottle until a strong ring-clad hand clasps over yours. You freeze, pissed off and embarrassed, knowing who the hand belongs to.

Even in your inebriated state, you get that same feeling whenever he is around you. You feel the heat in your cheeks instantly as the butterflies in your stomach irrupts.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sweetheart.”

You look down, not wanting to see the look on his face.

“I don’t care” you slur. God, you will hate yourself in the morning.

Of all people, it had to be Eddie to come and check on you?

That’s how he was—always worried, always babying you because you “weren’t experienced in life,” according to his words, and it made you mad! It made you seem like a child, and you were sick of people treating you as such. You were a grown woman, you had a 9:00-5:00, an apartment, and a degree, but none of that mattered—not when it came to dating and love.

“Sweetheart, please, you need to slow down.”

“Why?” You rolled your eyes. “I’m a big girl I can handle my alcohol.” You huffed.

“I just think— "

"IM TIRED OF WHAT YOU THINK!" you've had enough. No one took you seriously, and you couldn't help that Eddie happened to be the only one to feel your wrath.

"Woah, okay-okay, I’m sorry."

“I’m sick of everyone treating me like a child!" the dam broke, and streams of mascara fell down your cheeks.

"I don't think you're a child." Eddie timidly reached out his comforting hand.

"Yes, you do."

"When have— "

"ANY TIME WE ARE OUT, EDDIE! Like last week at the bar, I was so close to getting that guy's number and you swooped in acting like my father!"

"Sweetheart I—"

"Don't sweetheart me!" You cut him off once again. "It's demeaning."

"y/n. Let me take you home. We can talk about this tomorrow."

"I don’t want to."

"Too bad we are going." Eddie no longer gave you a choice. He took your hand and started to pull you along with him.

You stumbled, tripping over your feet because your balance was gone completely.

“Woah, see my point exactly.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, and Eddie can’t help but stifle a laugh. You were so cute.

Eddie didn’t mean to make you think you were juvenile…. He admired you and wanted to protect you; you were a woman to him, all women. He liked you; he really liked you. The only reason he swoops in is because he doesn’t want you with anyone who isn’t him, not because he doesn’t think you’re not capable… He dreams about how capable you can be. He just didn’t have the balls to say it to your face.

The thought of you not having any experience never even crossed his mind. He still had no clue you’d never been intimate with someone; he didn’t even know how inexperienced you were until the game. He watched and raised an unknowing brow each time you took a gulp.

Eddie took your keys from your hands and unlocked your front door for you. The whole car ride had been eerily silent. You didn’t dare speak a word without the threat of vomit coming up with it.

You silently stumbled into your home. Eddie followed closely behind. He helped you take off your sneakers. He led you to the bathroom and found some makeup wipes to help you take off your makeup, but halfway through, you turned to the toilet as the tequila made its way back up.

That’s when you broke; you were so embarrassed. “What’s wrong with me?” You cried.

“Nothing is wrong with you, swee-.” But he cut himself off, remembering that you scolded him earlier in the evening.

“Yes, there is something wrong with me! Nobody wants me.”

“That’s not true.” Eddie stroked the back of your head as you emptied out the contenders of your stomach into the porcelain bowl.

“Then why am I still a virgin?!” You sobbed.

Eddie was stunned, speechless. He had no idea. He just thought you didn’t like sharing your sex life, not that you didn’t have one.

So he let you cry into his chest. Your tears stained his shirt, but he didn’t care; he was here to take care of you.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he guided you after he helped you ride your mouth out.

You crashed as soon as your head hit the pillow. Eddie thought of leaving but was worried you would need him if you woke up, so he took the couch.

You awoke with a throbbing pain pounding in your head. You were never drinking again. The night was murky; you started remembering bits and pieces but not everything. You get up and notice the bottle of painkillers and a glass of water you definitely didn’t put there.

Then you remembered Eddie bringing you home and let out an aggravated groan. How could you have been so messy? And in front of Eddie, out of all people? Why couldn’t Robin and Nancy bring you home? What did you say to him? Were you mean? Did you yell at him? You remember crying, but the reasoning was foggy.

You begrudgingly take the water and pills and almost gag, trying to get them down, but you manage. You also smell like a minibar, so you strip and walk to your bathroom.

After a long hot shower, you get dressed and must put some food into your empty stomach.

You walked past a sleeping Eddie, not seeing him curled up in the living room, and started noisily making yourself some breakfast.

“Is that the way you wake up all your guests?”

You screamed as you threw the fork you had in fright.

“Eddie, what the fuck?!” You clench your chest as you take big breaths to calm your racing heart.

“Sorry, Angel”

Angel… that’s new? It’s always been sweetheart.

“I didn’t know you stayed?”

“Yeah… you um. Were in pretty rough shape last night, I didn’t want you to be alone... so I slept in the couch. I hope that’s okay”

“Thank you, Eddie, I’m sorry I ruined your night.” You looked down, ashamed.

“You didn’t ruin it.” He shook his head.

“Well, I owe you one,” you giggle awkwardly. Eddie and you hardly ever hang out one-on-one.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like absolute shit.” You hand Eddie a black coffee.

“Yeah, well, you really went hard in that game of never have I ever.”

You met out a moan of embarrassment. Your memory came flooding back.

Mortification consumed you as you didn’t want to look Eddie in the eyes. You cried in his arms last night after you puked your guys out.

“Oh god”

“It’s okay, Angel. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“What happened to sweetheart?” You tried to change the subject.

“You said it was demeaning…”

“Oh god, I did?” You peek up and see Eddie silently nod his head yes.

“I’m sorry, it’s not… I like the nickname. I just…. I was feeling so emotional last night, and the alcohol.” You tried not to gag at the thought.

“S’all good.” He shrugged. But he was replaced to hear you liked being called sweetheart. It suited you; he didn’t call anyone else that, either. It was reserved just for you.

“Um, so about last night, you mentioned nobody wanting you….” Oh god, was he really doing this now? “I don’t think that’s true.” Yes, he was.

“Huh?” You sit up, taking a sip of your coffee.

“You cried about how you didn’t think anyone wanted you, but it’s not true… I want you.”

Did you hear that right? Did you get water in your ears from the shower?

“You do?” Your eyes widen.

“Yeah,” he looks at you sheepishly.

“Oh?” You were in shock.

“Shit-I-I’m sorry, I ruined everything.” Eddie stood up, but you stood up with him, not wanting him to leave.

“No, Eddie, wait!” You grab his shoulder and turn him to face you. You couldn’t let him leave, not now.

“Sweeetheart, please let me be mortified in peace.”

“Kiss me.”

Eddie stares at you before you tell him one more time.

“Kiss me, Eddie.”

Then you feel his hands grip the back of your head and pull you in.

You didn’t think anything could cure your hangover but this comes pretty damn close.

You melt into his touch, his hands cup your head, your hands find his waist. It feels right, so right you think you’re floating.

No one had kissed you in what felt like years, and maybe it had been, but it was worth the wait.

Hands danced around one another’s bodies, and tongues and teeth clashed. It was messy; it was needy.

“Woah woah woah, sweetheart, hold on.” Eddie pulled back breathlessly.

“What’s wrong?” You look up at him, concerned…. Had he changed his mind?

“I think we should slow down.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay. We have time.”

“No.” You shook your head. “I’ve waited long enough.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think—"

"No! I need this, I want this." You look him dead in the eyes.

"You tell me if you want to stop, okay? Promise me."

"Okay, Eddie."

Eddie waists, not another second to take you in a feverish kiss. His hands roam your body, landing on your ass. It excites you so much you can feel the familiar tingling ruminating lower and lower.

You moan his name and press your whole body into his; you need to feel him, all of him… and you can. His hard cock is digging into your hip bone, and you connect your bodies.

Stumbling back without breaking the kiss, Eddie leads you to your bedroom. You fall backwards onto your bed with a gasp.

hovering above you is Eddie. You can see the lust behind his eyes as he scans your body.

"If im doing anything you don't like, tell me. This is about you, okay?"

“Okay,” you breathe as he lowers down to his knees. You watch his hands run up the tops of your thighs before spreading them wider so he can have access to where he wants you the most.

Running his fingers down your centre, you can’t help but moan at the feeling. You are greedy; you want to feel everything all at once.

Wasting no more time, you pull down the stretchy waistband of your pants and yank your underwear down with it. No time to be self-conscious- the need to feel Eddie fueled your desire.

“Beautiful,” Eddie whispered as he left a trail of kisses up your thigh, hovering just above your mound.

“Can I taste you?”

“Yes, please. Take care of me, I want it so bad,” You whine desperately. If you weren’t so horny, you’d be embarrassed by your words, but with Eddie, everything felt right.

Eddie’s lips latched into your soaked pussy, and you watched as his eyes rolled back in enjoyment. He didn’t hold back; he wanted this to be the best head of your life, even if it’s the only head of your life. You grip his hair in your fist, not expecting the pleasure to ripple through you so quickly.

“Taste so good, sweetheart; I wanna live in this pussy.”

“Oh god!” You cry as a single digit breaches your wanton hole.

Slowly, with his tongue and his finger pumping into you, you’re nearly there. Considering how long you’ve waited for this moment, it doesn't take much more. You’re cumming within minutes.

“Good girl, you okay?” he slaps the inside of your thigh and your body jerks.

“More,” you beg. It wasn’t enough; nothing would be able to satiate you until his cock was deep inside you.

“You sure? We can stop if you’re not ready”

“Need you now.” You grab him by the shirt collar and pull him towards you for a searing kiss.

“Okay,” he mumbles into your mouth, crawling up your body.

You loved the feel of his weight on top of you, consuming you with every kiss.

“Want you, Eddie” you moan as your hands toy with the hem of his shirt.

“You have me.” He dips his head lower to caress your throat with his lips.

Your breath hitches when you feel his teeth scrape across your soft, delicate skin.

Eddie didn’t lift his head until he was satisfied with the dark mark left on your neck.

When he unlatched from your throat, you demanded he take his clothes off.

Eddie loved your eagerness; he saw a spunk in you that he could only have dreamed of.

You also removed the rest of your clothing as he stripped.

When Eddie removed his last layer over his head, he couldn’t help but ogle your body, the way your head sunk into the pillows, your breasts, your soaked pussy on display for him. He was devouring you with his eyes.

You motion him to you with a single finger, breaking him out of the trace you put him under.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” Eddie was like a feline the way he crawled up on the bed to you.

The heat rushed to your cheeks; somehow, this felt more intimate than what he was doing between your legs a moment ago.

“I want you,” you repeat yourself.

Eddie cups your face, and you cup his in return. His eyes bore into your soul, leaving not a trace unturned as he searched your entire being before kissing you one more.

You moan into his mouth, and Eddie’s cock grazes your mound collecting your slick as his hips ground into you.

“Ready?” He asked desperately; he needed to be inside of you.

“Yes.”

He quickly got up and you moaned,

“What are you?- oh,” you blush

You see him reach for his pants pocket for his wallet as he pulls out a condom.

Quickly he rips it open, and your mouth waters as he rolls it over his cock. This is the first time you’re seeing what he looks like down there, and you’re getting nervous because how is that supposed to fit?

“Sweetheart? You'll be okay.” He smirks.

Cocky, shit.

“If I have to ask you again, I’m going to do this myself.” You huffed.

“Oh really? How do you suppose that?” He pounced back on top of you.

“I have my toys.”

Eddie’s head drops back. “We will get back to that later. Now I’m going to fuck you.”

“Finally”

Eddie doesn’t respond. He just slowly slides his cock through your slick folds collecting your natural lube before inching his way inside of you.

“I need you to relax, sweetheart.” You naturally clench around him. He was so tickled and long. Never had you felt so full, but little did you know Eddie was only a quarter-way in.

“Fuck you’re big,” you gasp.

“No need to stroke my ego, baby girl”

That made your pussy clench down again.

“Oh, you like that?”

You nod your head, yes, unable to speak.

“Noted”

You could kill him if he wasn’t making you feel so good.

“Eddie!” You scream as he finally reaches the hilt, gripping him like a koala you don’t want to let go.

“Fuck, this pussy is so tight” Eddie slowly works his hips in and out of you; with each thrust, you can feel his bush brush against your clit, and it sends a tingle down your spine.

You moan in response; everything feels like it is on fire; never had you expected this level of sex. No wonder everyone is obsessed with it.

“Harder”

“You sure”

“Yes, god yes!”

Eddie's hips snap into you with such force your head almost hits the headboard. The bed is rocking; you have never experienced something so wanted, so needed, so absolutely taken over by someone else.

“Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!” You chant his name, which only makes him go harder. His fingers dug into your hips, gripping you so hard, not ever wanting to let you go.

“Fuck me, this pussy s'good.” He spits through his teeth. His primal side is showing, and you can't get enough.

Nothing can again amount to this amount of pleasure; you're ruined for life.

"You close, baby girl?" Edie smirks when he feels you clamp don't on his cock when he spits out the words.

A guttural moan is unleashed from your throat in response because, god, you're so close.

The pressure building inside of you is about to burst as Eddie's calloused fingers find your sensitive clit.

"Come on baby, I know you gotta another one for me. I know you do."

Eddies words tipped you over the edge. Your body seized as his thick cock continued to pump into your greedy pussy. Your orgasm took over, and Eddie watched you silently scream for him.

Before you became overstimulated, Eddie also came shortly after, only a few more pumps, and he spilled himself into the condom.

With Eddie beside you huffing and puffing, you couldn't wipe the stupid grin off your face.

"That good, huh?"

"I don't want to stroke your ego, but yeah... fuck me" You hid your face.

"I just did." Eddie rolled over to kiss all over your face and you can't help but giggle.

"I hope we can do that again," you shy away.

"Oh, we are one thousand percent doing that again. "

Tagging some mooties: @littlexdeaths @xxbimbobunnyxx @voyeurmunson @rowanswriting @lofaewrites

@starkeysprincess @strangerstilinski @taintedcigs @mmunson86 @paybacksawitch @stardancerluv

#Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson x female reader #Eddie Munson x virgin!reader #Eddie Munson imagine

2K notes · View notes

yeonzzzn · 4 months ago

Text

pocket full of sunshine ; choi soobin

oh shit, we’re soulmates?! part one / five

pairing: soobin x afab!reader word count: 12.6k

synopsis: the last thing soobin expected was a stranger to sit beside him on the bus full of empty seats and clinging to his arm. due to a toxic ex, you beg soobin to come on vacation with you as your step in boyfriend for the week.

genre: fake relationship trope, soulmate!au, strangers to lovers, fluff, smut.

warnings: swearing, soobin and reader share a bed, alcohol, making out in public, dry humping, fingering, unprotected sex, MINORS DNI!

𖤓 soobin(1) | yeonjun(2) | beomgyu(3) | taehyun(4) | huening kai(5) 𖤓

Fake relationship trope? Are the fates fucking with him or could he simply just not read correctly?

Eighteen-year-old Soobin stared up at the acolyte standing before him, a massive smile on their face as they outstretched their arms, “The fates have spoken, my child!”

Utter bullshit.

Soobin has always been skeptical about this special moment all the adults growing up would talk about and be excited.

“It’s one of the best moments of your life!” “There is something so great knowing how you’d meet your soulmate!” “It’s one of the gods greatest gifts!”

And what god, exactly, decided to drop these “gifts” to everyone?

But he still couldn’t help but feel even the tiniest bit of excitement to see what this fated trope of his would be. And obviously, to his disappointment, it was utter bullshit. Fake relationship? Yeah right. What a fucking joke.

Or so he thought.

Now at the age of twenty-three, fate really has a way of continuing to fuck everything over. Because here you were, plopped next to him on this shady ass bus going Northbound into the city and hugging up on his arm.

Soobin tried to release from your tight grip, pulling the strings of his earphones to release the music blasting in his eardrums, and glared down at you, “Excuse me?”

“Please, just play along.” You quickly said, pleading with him with your eyes. And that’s when Soobin noticed how badly you were shaking.

Your eyes quickly whipped to the front of the bus, Soobin’s eyes following yours, a scoff released from his mouth following up with, “Ahh, I see.”

You squeeze his arm tighter, “Please,” you beg again, “I’ll explain later.”

Now what kind of guy would he be if he turned down someone so desperate?

So he forced his arm free and locked his hand with yours, rubbing his thumb over the top of your hand as he squeezed his fingers against yours, eyeing the man who now stood in front of the two of you.

“Guess you weren’t lying,” the dark hair male said, “That your new boyfriend was waiting on the bus for you.”’

And thank the gods it worked out.

In all honesty, you were afraid this little lie of yours wasn’t going to play out well. With your luck, you’d have a bus filled with old creepy guys and would have to make up another excuse. But thankfully your stars aligned and saw the perfect dark brown-haired male slumped in the seat and staring off into complete space. And thank whatever god was listening that he decided to play along.

“Of course, I’d be here waiting for her,” Soobin said with a sly grin, “Can’t let her take the bus into the city alone, what kind of gentleman does that?” Soobin then reaches across the seat with his free hand and cups your cheeks between his thumb and index finger, “Can’t let my sweet bunny go off all alone.”

Now you were the one glaring up at him as his stupid ass smug smirk grew ever wider. Did you make the right choice with this one? There were plenty of other cute guys with empty seats beside them you could have chosen.

You dug your grave and guess you gotta lay in it.

He finally released your face and stared back up at your ex, his eyes now narrowing, “And who are you? Sorry for my lack of manners, I just don’t recall who you are, exactly.”

The male let out a scoff, eyes darting to the floor, “Must really be over me, YN, if you aren’t even speaking about me.”

Ahhh, so this is what the situation is.

You roll your eyes and lean a bit forward, clenching the brown-haired male's hand tighter, “I’ve been telling you that since you started stalking me about the bus stations, Sungchan!”

Oh, so this guy is an asshole.

“You’re stalking my girlfriend?!” Soobin snapped, standing up quickly in the seat, you tried hard to pull him back down. You had to admit, he was playing this part perfectly.

Sungchan held his hands up in defense, “I wasn’t stalking her! I just happened to be walking past and noticed her. If I knew she had a boyfriend I wouldn’t have even made the stop.”

It took everything in Soobin to not roll his eyes and throw a punch. He actually hated this guy already. Like who the fuck give that as an excuse when it’s so clear he was stalking YN?

“Can the young man standing in the aisle please sit down for your safety.” the bus driver announced over the speakers.

You glanced out the window, seeing the bus was in full motion. You didn’t even realize it started moving.

Sungchan tucked his tongue into his cheek and nodded, “I don’t want to cause any trouble,” his eyes then whipped over to Soobin, “I am assuming you’re coming to the beach with us next week, ya?”

At this he fell silent, not knowing how to answer his question. How could he just say—

“Of course he is,” You shrugged, “There’s still that open spot from Chaewon backing out.”

Before Sungchan could open his mouth to speak, the bus driver once again was snapping at him to take a seat. So without another word, he moved to the back of the bus.

You relaxed into the seat, quickly pulling your hand out of the stranger’s, “Thank you for that,” you whispered, watching as he sat back down into the seat, his eyes studying you hard.

“I don’t know what kind of load of bullshit this is, but you’re awfully brave. I could have been a serial killer. Like Ghost Face type shit.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the man, turning away to face forward, “I’ll explain everything to you at whatever stop you’re getting off at,” Soobin went to protest, but you stopped him, “I need to make my lie look believable. Sungchan is a very smart man, he probably already assumes what it was I was doing. So just let me get off at the next stop with you,” you looked down at the dusty and gross floor of the bus, “He isn’t going to get off this bus until we do, I can promise you that.”

Soobin wanted to snap at how this wasn’t his problem and a massive case of baggage that you need to clean out yourself. But when he looks at you…all he can see and feel is how badly your body was shaking earlier. So he sat back in the seat and stared out the window.

Thirty minutes of silence passed before Soobin flagged the driver to stop at the next upcoming bus stop. You quickly stood from the seat and let him move in front of you, leading the way. As he walked passed, he hooked his pinky finger with yours, pulling you along behind him.

You both could feel Sunchan’s glare as you stepped off the bus, not once turning around as the doors of the bus closed, and the sounds of it drifted off down the street.

Once the bus was no longer in view, Soobin dropped your pinky and shoved his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, “Want to explain yourself now, YN?”

Something about the way your name rolled off his tongue sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t decide if it was good or bad. You settled with a maybe both.

You sighed and looked up at him, seeing his cocoa eyes staring back, “That guy,” you started, breaking your gaze from him, “Is my toxic ex-boyfriend.”

“Well, yeah,” Soobin shrugged, “It was kind of obvious, wasn’t it?”

You nodded, “He and I broke up months ago, caught him cheating on me with one of our friends.”

Soobin hung his head low, closing his eyes, “I’m assuming that friend was…Chaewon? Wasn’t it?”

You hated how this male was able to piece together everything so quickly. You nod again, “As you can probably tell, my group of friends planned a vacation with each other to the beach last year. But found out he was cheating on me and welp, Chae dipped out after I discovered she was the other woman,” you cross your arms, letting a shrug form, “I wanted to back out too, but my best friend is still going and he begged me to go still.”

Soobin felt bad for you. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how terrible this all was affecting you. How terrible you must feel.

“I’m a hundred percent sure he was looking for me,” you twisted a piece of string hanging out of your tee shirt, “There’s no way he didn’t know I just got off work and was heading back home. I live near my place of work, I didn’t even need to get on the bus. But he was begging for me back and I panicked.”

Soobin believed you. Your shaking body still feeling fresh against his body, “I’m sorry this is happening to you, YN.”

You glanced back into his eyes, seeing the true apologetic gaze in them. You shrug again, “Thank you for playing along, I don’t know what I am going to do abou—“

An idea hit you just then. Soobin could see the gears turning in that brain of yours.

“No,” he laughed, waving you off before you could even speak, “Absolutely not!”

You walked up to him, being inches away from his face, standing right up on your tiptoes, “Please! It’s just for a week and you’ll never have to see me again!”

Soobin took a step back, needing to create that distance. His heart was racing, hands were shaking. You were literally asking him to be your fake boyfriend for a week. His trope rang in the back of his head, there’s no fucking way.

“You’re awfully brave asking a complete stranger you just met to be your fake boyfriend,” Soobin scrunched his nose, trying to play this off, “I’m not doing it.”

You were desperate, and you didn’t care how badly you looked it. This was the only way you could think to get Sungchan off your ass and finally get the hint that you DON’T want him anymore. So you pleaded with the man in front of you, “I know we just met, but I’ll repay you for this,” you stretched your hand out, him raising a brow at it, “Give me your phone. I’ll put my number in and if you decide to go, give me a call. We don’t leave for another four days.”

Soobin looked away into the distance at the setting sun. He couldn’t believe he was actually considering it.

Before he could stop himself, his hand was reaching into the pocket of his jeans, pulling his phone out, and placing it into your hands, “I’m not going to make any promises that you’d even hear from me.”

And that was enough for you, quickly creating your contact in his phone, “All I could ask for is you consider it.” He took his phone back from you, and you waved him goodbye, “Thanks again… uhhh??”

“Soobin,” he said, studying you as you walked backward away from him, “I’m Soobin.”

You smiled at him. A smile that shot right to his heart. He didn’t move from his spot until you disappeared from his sight.

“You what?!” your best friend snapped, brows creasing inward as he looked at you with pure disbelief.

All you could do was look at him, blankly blinking, “Hoon—“

“Let me get this straight,” Sunghoon said, leaning against the countertop in your shared kitchen, his face being dropped into his palms as his elbows turned red from being leaned on, “You ran into Sungchan, jumped onto a random bus and sat next to a complete stranger and begged him to be your fake boyfriend until you followed him to his stop and then begged him to continue the web of lies you dragged him into and then invited him to the vacation? YN that’s fucking stupid!”

Stupid was one word for it. You sat back in the chair, staring down at the marble of the countertop, “I was desperate. I didn’t even know what I was doing until the words were leaving my mouth.”

Sunghoon looked up at you and let out a sigh, “Did he even agree to go?”

You glanced over at your phone, still waiting for a call or shit—even a text from Soobin on whether he was going, or not. Sunghoon followed your gaze down to your cellular device and let out another sigh in response to his question.

It’s been two days since you’ve met Soobin. You couldn’t help the anxious feeling settling in your gut at the possibility of having to expose your lies once it’s time to meet at the beach house within the following days.

“YN, you need to be careful with your—“

“Please don’t bring up my given bullshit trope.”

You had to be honest, you didn’t believe in fate or tropes or whatever type of bullshit the gods “graced” the world with. Your trope, you’ve tried experimenting with multiple times and it’s gotten you nowhere. It doesn’t exist.

Sunghoon tilted his head, “I was just saying,” he leaned back in his chair, keeping his eyes locked on you, “You’ll believe in it once it happens for you.”

Your best friend had found his soulmate. She’s a cute girl, very witchy and into the occult things. Sunghoon calls her a hex girl and she calls him a bloodsucker. You never understood their dynamic, but they are cute, nevertheless. Their red string of fate tied them perfectly together. She also adores you and never once had a problem that her boyfriend’s roommate was a female and his best friend. Even with him having a soulmate, you still weren’t convinced. Mostly just for yourself.

“Speaking of,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest, “Why can’t __ come along?”

Sunghoon shrugged, “She has work. And since she took off when she and I went out to that cabin, she wasn’t able to take more time off.”

It made sense. You were lucky your boss even let you have the entire week off for the beach. It took a lot of convincing.

You stared at your phone again.

“Well,” Sunghoon said, standing from his seat, “I’m going to finish watching this Sci-Fi movie about this guy in space who gets his memory wiped.”

You raised a brow at him, “That’s an interesting-sounding movie.”

He nodded, “I’ve seen it multiple times before, can’t get enough of it!” he slapped his hand to the counter with excitement, “The movie is in a whole time loop! I won’t spoil too much.” He smiled wide, his natural fangs on display.

You looked at him with endearment. You truly loved Sunghoon and his geeky ways.

He gave you a knowing look, “Want to join me? We can restart it from the beginning,” You looked back at your phone, debating if you needed the distraction, “I’ll brush your hair.”

You jumped up from the seat and tossed your phone into your pocket, “Say less!”

Sunghoon followed behind you into the living room.

“Fucker!! I said COVER ME!” Beomgyu screamed through the headset, nearly making Soobin fling them off his head.

Kai’s laugh filled the headset right after, “Bro, I was covering you, I can’t help you decided to rush in and half the team was in there.”

Yeonjun sighed then, “Unlike you idiots, I’m playing it safe and staying on the high ground.”

“Sure,” Soobin rolled his eyes as he rushed into a building and unloaded his shotgun into the “half of team” that took out Beomgyu and Kai, taking down all of them, “If you want to call camping on a rooftop with a sniper playing safe, go ahead.”

Yeonjun scoffs, “I haven’t died—FUCK!”

Soobin smirked and the others laughed at the kill feed, seeing Yeonjun’s gamertag displayed at the top of it.

“Haven’t died yet? Right. Safe? Right.” Taehyun teased him, making more giggles fill the earpieces.

“Fuck you guys,” Yeonjun snapped, the sounds of his fingers smashing his keys in the hope of a faster respawn, “Gyu has no room to talk, homie is in a gaming unit and still has died more than the four of us combined.”

“I’m not playing for real,” Beomgyu countered, “This is all just fun and games, baby.”

“Then why bitch about Huening not covering you?” Taehyun countered back, “Sweats don’t yell like that when they are just having fun and games, baby.”

Beomgyu scoffed over the mic at his friends teasing, “Old habits die hard—KAI WHAT THE FUCK!”

“They sure die hard alright,” Yeonjun laughed.

“Anyway!” Beomgyu cleared his throat, “Shouldn’t we actually be discussing Soobin’s situation?”

“Oh, yeah!” Kai exclaimed, “Have you figured out what you’re going to do?”

Soobin shrugged as if his best friends could see, “I really haven’t decided.” The truth was, he hadn’t even really given it a lot of thought. Work has been killing him lately and even when he has thought about it, it was only for a short couple minutes then he shoved it back to the back of his brain. This wasn’t his problem to fix, you got yourself into that situation.

“I totally think you should go for it,” Kai said, rushing into another building and getting shot down immediately, “Damnit! But, who knows? Maybe this will be your soullllmmmaaaattteeee.” Kai teased.

Soobin couldn’t help but scoff, “My trope? It’s bullshit. Always has been.”

Soobin had plenty of fair share of fake relationships to help make exes jealous on both his and the other female’s side. Random hookups for the night to play along after a drunken night out partying. Never came out to anything. This was no different.

“Plus we don’t even know her trope,” Yeonjun added, “This very much could just be a normal “I got myself in a sticky situation, please help dig myself out” situation.”

None of Soobin’s friends believed in soulmates or their tropes. Every single one of them thought it was bullshit. Like the acolytes picked a trope out of a hat and called it a day.

“Well, all the soulmate bullshit aside,” Taehyun sighed, “It is a free trip. You wouldn’t have to pay for anything. Just literally show up and enjoy a free vacation.”

Soobin raised his brows and cocked his head to the side, “That is true. Unless YN slaps me with the bill at the end of the week.”

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Beomgyu said, using an emote as the round ended, “She told you she would repay you. I doubt she’d make Soobin pay up his half for a trip that wasn’t even his doing in the first place.”

Soobin sighed, rubbing his eyes with the pads of his middle and index fingers. This was a hard situation to deal with. Not only would he be missing out on a whole week's worth of work—which means less money in his bank account, he would be having to call out at the last minute AND be dealing with people he doesn’t even know all because you had to lie.

But then again—it would be a free vacation. Nothing would be coming out of Soobin’s pocket. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the loading screen as the game went into another round, his trope rushing through his mind. He couldn’t help but feel this was way too convenient. He bit at the corner of his lip, really putting thought into this.

“Don’t think too hard over there buddy,” Kai teased, “Just say YOLO and go. It won’t kill you to go hit up the beach for a week. Plus, she said you wouldn’t have to see her or her friends after that, it would be a win.”

Soobin nodded. He did truly feel sorry for you. Having to deal with Sungchan and even being put in that situation to begin with. Just thinking of Sungchan and what he did to you made Soobin’s blood boil. A smirk curled at his lips.

“You know what, Kai is right,” Soobin sat up straight, reaching for his phone, “You only live once.”

His friends had a mixture of words and cheers. Soobin pulled his headset down around his neck, found your number, and pressed the call button. He leaned back in his chair, biting at the skin on his cheek, waiting for you to answer.

After four rings, you picked up, “Hello?”

Hearing your voice put a smile on his face, and he couldn’t explain why, “YN, It’s Soobin.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting when he offered to be the one to drive the two of you to the beach. But it sure the hell wasn’t what was currently in front of you.

Soobin parked as close as he could to your apartment. He stood outside, leaning up against the front end of his pretty fancy black SUV. His hands are in the pocket of his jean shorts and his head facing off into the distance with sunglasses resting against his nose.

Your heart skipped a beat. Why was this person you barely know making your heart flutter like this? He’s just standing here.

He finally turned his head, looking up at you and the corners of his lips curling upward, “You going to come down or do I have to drive to the beach without you?”

You returned his smile, “Chill out, I’m coming down!” You rushed down the stairs to see he now moved from his car to the foot of the stairs, hands reaching for your duffle bag. Normally you would have snapped your hand back to keep your stuff with you, but you let him take the bag. He took off to the side, another arm stretched out as you stepped down to the ground, his hand placed gently to your lower back as he gently moved you in front of him to walk towards his car.

“We have a three-hour drive, so there is still time to back out of this,” Soobin said, now removing his hand from your back and placing it on the passenger side door, “If you don’t want to do this, I am giving you that last chance to take your bag from me and go back into your apartment.”

You understood what he was doing. He was giving you a way out of having to deal with Sungchan altogether. The weight of that option was tempting, but you shook your head in a no, “Everything will be fine,” you didn’t know if you said that more for him or yourself, “Plus, Sunghoon already left for the beach. I’d be here alone and honestly, I need a vacation.”

Soobin nodded, opening the door for you, “Well, let’s hit the road then, princess.”

“Such a gentleman!” you teased as you climbed into the seat.

Soobin gave you a smirk and leaned into the car, “My mother raised me right, what can I say?”

After tossing your bag into the backseat alongside his, you both hit the road. You did have to admit, you were nervous. What if something goes wrong? Or everyone finds out about this lie you’ve conjured up? Sunghoon was the only one who knew the truth. But you were almost positive that Sungchan knew–or suspected–the truth.

Soobin could tell you were nervous. He could see it in your body language and the hint of your voice that was slower than what it was when you and him sat on the phone to discuss plans for this entire trip. He’s only known you for a short few days, but he felt he already knew parts of you that no one else did. And he couldn’t place why that was. So he reached across to the radio, turning up the music in the hope it would ease your nerves. And oh boy did it. You were able to sink back into the seat and focus on the music.

The three-hour drive wasn’t actually terrible. You and Soobin made only two stops, one for a bathroom break and snacks and the other for a quick lunch. Soobin also drove the entire time and wouldn’t give up the driver's seat no matter how many times you offered to drive. “I’m going on this trip for free. It’s the least I could do to make up for that part.” But did he forget you’re the one who owes him for even agreeing to this trip?

It wasn’t too much longer before the beach came into view. You couldn’t help but roll the window down and lean your head out, taking in the sights and smells of the ocean and the sand. The sounds of the waves crashing against the sand and birds chirping as they flew by. You don’t get to come out to the beach often, so when you do, you take in everything.

Soobin took his eyes off the road for a few short seconds to look at you then out to the ocean, “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

You nodded, “I can’t remember the last time I got to see this view.”

Soobin rolled down his window, letting the full sounds and smells fill the entire car. He leaned his elbow onto the edge of the window and propped his head into his palm, “The last time I was here probably had to be about two years ago? My friends and I all came for a day trip.”

You sat back in the seat and glanced over at him, loving the small smile he had on his face, “You’re a group of five right?” You thought back to the conversation you and Soobin had a few days ago about the trip, him fully admitting his friends helped push him into even coming along, “Pretty close?”

Soobin’s smile lifted more, “Close isn’t even the right word to describe what we all are. Brothers would be a more fitting term.”

Hearing Soobin talk about his friends reminded you of how you felt about Sunghoon. Close wasn’t even close to being the right word. Soobin was right about that.

Thinking about friends made the nervousness settle back into the pit of your stomach, “How are we going to pull this off?”

Soobin’s smile faded, “You’re still worried about that?” You nodded. How could you not be? “It’s just for the week, YN. Then you can make up some story on how you got rid of me and everything will go back to normal.”

All you could do was nod again, leaning your head back onto the headrest and staring off into the distance of the open sea. The truth was, you felt comfortable with Soobin so far, what if you want to keep him around as a friend by the end of this trip? Would he even be okay with that?

You could only hope.

Soon enough the beach house came into view and the cars of your friends piled up around the parking station around the house. You pointed out Sunghoon’s car and Soobin parked beside it.

Well, here goes nothing.

You and Soobin climbed out of the car at the same time, him already reaching for both your and his bags, carrying them over his shoulder.

Sunghoon was the first to pile out of the beach house, his arms stretched out wide as he ran towards you, “You guys finally made it!”

Your best friend's hug gripped you tight as if he hadn't hugged you in years, “Hoon, I saw you this morning!”

He finally pulled away, resting his hands on your shoulders, “I miss you all the time! Even when you’re right beside me!” You rolled your eyes at his separation anxiety he has towards you but still smiled anyway. You took notice his eyes were no longer on you, but locked onto Soobin who stood behind you, “That’s Soobin?” You nodded, a new fear prickling up your shine that maybe Sunghoon doesn’t approve of this even more, “He wasn’t what I was expecting.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, because what exactly was he expecting?

Sunghoon finally moved around you, reaching his hand out to Soobin, “Good to put a face to the name I’ve been hearing about lately.”

Soobin took his hand, assuming this guy was your roommate and best friend. Soobin smiled, “Same to you, Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon smirked and leaned closer to Soobin, becoming only a few inches away from his face, “I know about this whole situation,” Sunghoon’s voice dropped deeper and his eyes became serious. Soobin just stared back at him, locking his jaw tight, “While I didn’t agree with her even doing this, I am glad you decided to play along. But if you hurt her..”

Soobin forced a smirk of his own, “I don’t think you have to worry about that. I’m just here to piss off Sungchan.”

Sunghoon widens his eyes, “Ah! So you also hate the dirtbag?” Sunghoon took steps away from him and placed his hands on his shoulders, “Glad we are on the same page.”

You sighed, fanning yourself with your hands, “Can we go inside now? This summer heat is killing me!”

Sunghoon turned around and smiled at you, “Of course! But umm…I need to let you know something.”

You stared at your best friend, “Wha—“

The beach house door busted open and the voices of your friends had you turning around and smiling wide. Jake, Jay, Yunjin, Sakura, and Shotaro all shuffled out the door, immediately rushing to you.

“Where is this new boyfriend you never told us about?!?” they all asked in unison and then their eyes caught Soobin as he stood behind you, resting his hand on your lower back and introducing himself.

Your friends surrounded the two of you, complimenting how cute he was and how cute the two of you looked together. Even though this was all a lie and an act, you couldn’t stop the slight pink filling your cheeks.

“Oh!” Yunjin said, pulling her red locks behind her ears, “Sungchan…he…”

Before she could finish speaking, you saw what she was going to tell you, and saw what Sunghoon was going to tell you.

Sungchan stepped out of the house with Chaewon at his side.

You weren’t sure if pissed off would even be the correct emotion to describe how you were feeling right now staring at your ex-boyfriend and your ex-best friend.

“They showed up together,” Yunjin whispered, “We didn’t even know she was still coming. Apparently, he paid for her at the last minute.”

The last you heard, Chae wasn’t even speaking to any of us anymore, that included Sungchan, after the truth got out.

You didn’t speak to either of them as everyone pushed back into the beach house. It was a massive house, super cute and very beachy. Enough rooms to hold at least two people per room. And that’s how you got stuck sharing a bed with Soobin.

Chaewon piled in with Yunjin and Sakura, while Jake and Sunghoon shared a room, and Sungchan with Shotaro.��

Plus Soobin and you were a “couple”, it really only made sense you’d have to share a room with him.

The first day was spent heading into town for food for the house and any beach toys or items that any of you all might need. The males took to the kitchen to cook the food that night, while you females sat outside on the sand watching as the sun set until dinner was ready. So far, everyone was getting along, even you and Chae to an extent, even if you two weren’t speaking.

Once night fell, you stood at the edge of the bed while Soobin climbed in and made himself comfortable, “I can always sleep on the couch,” he said with such calm, “If it would make you feel more comfortable.”

You quickly shook your head, “No! They would suspect something if you did, it’s just…” You haven’t shared a bed with another male since Sungchan.

Soobin didn’t need to hear you say it to understand what you were getting at. The scars Sungchan left from his betrayal ran deep within you.

Soobin smirked, deciding to try and make light, “I don’t bite, YN.”

You scoffed at him with a roll of your eyes, “Why did I invite you again?”

Soobin patted your side of the bed with his hand and scooted closer to the edge of his, giving you more space and without hesitation, you climbed in, “I’m here because you need me.”

You tried hard to not scoff again but failed. You wanted to fight him, but settled on, “Goodnight, fake boyfriend.”

Soobin was glad you were facing away from him so you couldn’t have seen the look on his face when hearing you say that. It pulled at him in ways he fought hard to push down. It made his trope push to the front parts of his brain in flashing bright letters. He flipped over to his stomach and squished his face into the pillow, using all his strength to push down the thoughts of his trope.

Tropes were stupid and didn’t exist. It was all fake. All fake.

He repeated those words over and over again until sleep finally took him.

The first couple of days went on like normal. On the second day of this vacation a storm hit, so everyone was forced to stay inside the house. Sunghoon brought his Nintendo Switch, so everyone took turns playing Smash Bros and Mario Kart. Soobin dominated everyone in both games. Come to find out, Soobin is very much a gamer and one of his friends is even in a unit. It was very interesting to you and made you want to learn even more about Soobin.

On day three, the sun and summer heat were back. You and your friends didn’t hesitate to jump into the water to cool off.

“Jake mentioned a bonfire tonight!” Sakura said, dipping herself down to your chin into the water, “I say we do it! We can go buy stuff for s’mores!”

“Alcohol too please!” Yunjin groaned, “I need it after how long my last few weeks have been!”

You agreed. What was a vacation without it? Plus it would calm your nerves about this whole Sungchan situation anyway.

You looked up to the sand, seeing how Sunghoon, Jake, and Jay seemed to have adopted Soobin into their little circle, tossing around a baseball, all four of them smiling. Your eyes drifted off closer to the house, Shotaro, Sungchan, and Chae stood around the picnic table and grill as Taro grilled the meat for lunch. Your eyes lingered on how close Sungchan and Chae were sitting together, Sungchan turning his head to look out into the water, making eye contact with you.

He shifted a bit closer to Chae and on instinct, you whipped your head in the other direction, “Soobin!” Sungchan shifted his gaze to Soobin as well.

Soobin looked away from the other three, giving you a smile that melted your heart, “What is it, my princess?!” he shouted back. You said nothing, just gave him a big smile and waved for him to join you in the water.

Soobin wasn’t stupid. He saw how close Sungchan was to Chaewon. Soobin could smell the bullshit from miles away. He knew Sungchan only invited Chaewon—or well, begged her—back on this trip all because of him. Sungchan trusted Shotaro with this information thinking he wasn’t going to slip it up to everyone else, especially Soobin.

“I tried to talk him out of it,” Taro had said, “He kept saying it was just to make sure the friend group was made whole again, but I know that isn’t the case. He was so hung up on getting YN back, but after meeting you…I think he did it to try and stick it where it hurts. Or make her jealous. He won’t accept she’s over him.”

Pitiful.

Soobin tossed the ball over to Jake, “I’m going to jump in the water with YN, you all want to come too?” Soobin had to admit, the one good thing that came out of this trip was gaining these guys' friendship.

Jay was practically already tearing his tank top off, “Hell yeah! Let's cool off, this sun is brutal!”

Soobin followed the others down the beach, gripping the ends of his shirt and pulling it up and over his head.

Your heart nearly stopped. Your eyes drag along down his body. Trailing back up over his abs, chest, shoulders, and arms. Craving the metal image in detail of every curve of his biceps. He was beautiful. So beautiful.

Soobin was now in the water and standing directly in front of you, a smirk on his face as he leaned close to your face, being inches apart, “Close your mouth, you’re drooling.” he whispered.

You didn’t realize your mouth was open and immediately closed it shut. Soobin stood up straight and sank down into the water, his hands finding yours as he was chest-deep, gently pulling at your hands to lower yourself too.

It honestly took a lot for Soobin to keep his eyes locked on your face. Your body was gorgeous, all of you were. He couldn’t and wouldn’t deny that. Mostly with the way the purple bikini complimented your skin and the curves of your body. He did take a few glances down to your breasts and shot his eyes right back up to your face. He wasn’t ashamed of looking, you were just gawking at him a few minutes ago.

Once you were at eye level with Soobin, his hands left your hands and found their place at your waist, pulling your body to him, “I hope this is okay,” he whispered, “Just trying to play my part.”

It was natural at how you wrapped your arms around his neck, how you seated yourself on his lap and wrapped your legs around his waist, pressing your chest to his. It felt so natural that it scared you. Even with the cool ocean water warping around your bodies, you still felt way too hot and prayed that if your face was red, everyone would assume it was from the hot summer sun.

“No, it’s all okay,” you whispered back, pulling him closer to you, leaving your bodies completely flushed against one another, “We both have to play this part.”

“Hey!” Jake chuckled, “What you lovebirds whispering about over there!”

Soobin chuckled back, tilting his head back to look at Jake, “I’m telling her all the positions I’m going to put her through tonight!” He teased, earning Jake to scrunch his nose.

“Man, we don’t want to know that!” Jake held up his index fingers into an X, “Keep that to yourselves!”

Soobin just smirked, wrapping his arms around your frame, “Hey man, you asked!”

You couldn’t help but smile at them, at all of them, really. You were truly happy that Soobin was fitting in with your friends and they all seemed to love him. Sunghoon—even with his nasty side eye at the two of you—was warming up to Soobin little by little the last few days. You listened to them all banter back and forth and you couldn’t help but wish that this all could last past this week.

Soobin then touched his cheek to yours, squishing your faces together, “Dude, you’re just jealous that I have a pretty girlfriend!”

Your friends collectively all “ooooo” at Jake from Soobin’s diss, causing Jake to smirk and start splashing water at everyone.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Sungchan said suddenly, standing at the edge of where the water meets the sand. His arms were crossed and eyes locked onto Soobin, “Taro finished lunch, let’s all eat.”

After lunch, everyone headed back into the house to take turns showering and then headed into town for alcohol and items for s’mores.

Once the sun started to settle over the horizon, it was time for the bonfire.

The owners who rented out the house to you and your friends for the week really knew what the people wanted. The firepit was beautiful. A beautiful smooth white stone was built around the pit and perfectly carved benches sat around it. Sunghoon and Yunjin were the ones most excited about the s’mores, being the ones to poke the soft squishy balls of sweetness onto the metal rods and hold them over the fire, and passing them around to everyone once they were burnt perfectly and smooshed between chocolate and graham crackers.

Jay sat off to Soobin’s right on another bench with his acoustic guitar in his arms, playing a pretty tune that matched the soft crashes of the waves and the breeze of the wind. You swayed back and forth slightly, not wanting to spill any of your beer.

“Having a good time?” Soobin asked, smiling down at you as he sipped his beer, “You look like you are.”

You nodded, leaning further a bit to your right to nudge your shoulder against his, “I am,” you lift the can to your lips, taking a sip, “You?”

Soobin glanced over to the firepit and took another sip, “I am,” his eyes shot up to Sungchan, catching him staring back, “But Sungchan has been eyeing me down since before lunch. It’s making it hard for me to really enjoy myself right now.”

Soobin honestly was enjoying his time here so far. It was a vacation after all and having to play the part of your fake boyfriend wasn’t difficult either. The only hard thing was the glare Soobin always felt from Sungchan. He understood why, he had something the other wanted. It wasn’t Soobin’s fault the male fucked everything up. Nor was it his fault that you were completely over Sungchan to begin with. Soobin truly believed if you still had feelings for Sungchan, you wouldn’t have even come on this trip.

You carefully and quickly passed your eyes over Sungchan, catching how hard he stared at Soobin. Even when he lifted the beer can to sip and drank. His eyes never left Soobin. You also noticed how close he was sitting to Chae. Chae just stared off into the distance, hands clasped together. You couldn’t help but feel like she didn’t want to be there.

You finished off your beer and tossed it into the plastic bag at your feet, “I’m sorry he’s being that way towards you,” and you really truly meant it. Soobin didn’t deserve it, “I wish I could make him stop.”

Soobin also finished off his beer and tossed the can with yours, keeping his eyes locked on Sungchan. You finally decided to let Sungchan know that you saw him staring. Glaring at him with your jaw locked and eyes narrowed. It didn’t take long for him to notice your stares and for him to scoot closer to Chae, dropping his hand to her thigh.

You rolled your eyes and faced Soobin, “He really thinks doing that will do anything but piss me off.”

Soobin chuckled at your words because it’s true, the man truly thought getting closer to Chaewon was going to change your attitude towards him. Sungchan pulled a smirk at Soobin, thinking he won.

Oh, but isn’t that further from the truth.

“Want to piss him off back?” Soobin asked, turning to face you.

You raised a brow, “And how exactly, do you plan to piss him off?”

Soobin said nothing as he moved in, connecting his lips to yours. Your surprise must have been way too obvious because Soobin was now tracing his lips from yours and down your jaw and to your ear, whispering, “Play along.”

You knew what he was doing. Knew what it would cause with Sungchan. Knew all of it and yet once his lips found yours, you kissed him back something fierce. Both your eyes flutter closed and embrace this moment.

You expected just a few kisses and then Soobin pulling away, but the longer your lips lingered, the more you prayed he wouldn’t move away. Soobin did, in fact, was only planning to plant a few kisses and then pull away and go back to being normal. But…

He couldn’t stop.

His brows furrowed as he leaned into you more. His hand reached up and cupped your neck, his thumb rubbing softly against your jawline.

What was he doing? Why couldn’t he stop kissing you? Why was his free hand now reaching for yours and his fingers intertwined with yours? Squeezing your hand hard.

He slowly pushed his tongue past his lips, licking your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You parted your lips without question, letting his tongue slide in and explore your cavern. The soft groan that escaped his mouth sent chills down your body. If he didn’t have his hand placed on your neck keeping you pressed to him, you would have long fallen over.

Kissing you felt…natural. It felt like his lips were always meant to kiss yours. That…he was meant to be here with you. Soobin had come to the realization that you both were making out in front of everyone and he did not give a single fuck. Sungchan no longer mattered. Pissing him off no longer mattered. The only thing that did was your lips against his. Your hand in his. You. Only you.

His heart pulled to you. It was chanting your name over and over and over. He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to. He felt the little red string of fate tie itself to you. His trope rang in the back of his mind.

“Hey!” Someone finally snapped, “Get a room, love birds!” To both your and Soobin’s surprise, it was Sunghoon who said it.

Soobin smiled against your lips before slowly pulling away, resting his forehead on yours. His heart was racing and he was fucking terrified to open his eyes and look at you. Scared at what he might find.

But he opened them anyway as he pulled his head away from yours. First, he stared at your swollen kissed lips, then slowly looked up to your eyes. One look and it was all it took for everything in the world to make sense. One look in your eyes and he knew.

It was you. It was always going to be you.

You thought going to bed that night would have been awkward. Why wouldn’t it? You and Soobin made out in front of all your friends in a play to piss off Sungchan, it should have been awkward to go to bed that night. Except it wasn’t. You crawled into bed next to Soobin like it was a routine. He rolled onto his side facing away from you and fell asleep quickly as you did the same.

You oddly felt at peace. You barely knew him and only knew a handful of things about him that you’ve learned on this trip so far, but you couldn’t help that pull to him. And as you drifted off to sleep you repeated the thought over and over on how easy all this was with him. How from the moment you first laid eyes on him in that bus you felt that pull. You weren’t sure what to make of this, mostly when everything would be coming to an end once this week was over.

When you woke up Soobin was already out of bed. After getting up, brushing your teeth, and throwing on your swimsuit and beach clothes, you trailed into the living room, everyone sat around somewhere in the kitchen or living eating breakfast.

“About time you got up!” Sunghoon teased, shoving a piece of bacon in his mouth, “It’s almost eleven am!”

You raised a brow at your best friend, “Yet you guys are still eating breakfast? When it’s literally lunchtime?”

“Hey,” Jake groaned, whipping his head up from his plate and leaning against Sunghoon, “Never too late or early for a breakfast meal!” You couldn’t argue with that, “Besides,” Jake continued, “Soobin mentioned for dinner to head out into town and try one of the restaurants, so we decided on a later breakfast.”

“Makes sense,” you mumbled, looking around the room, “Speaking of, where is he?”

“Your boy toy already went down to the water,” Sungchan murmured, poking his fork at his eggs, “Missed him by ten minutes.”

You narrowed your eyes down at him, “Boy toy?” you scoffed, whipping your head away with a roll of your eyes, “Funny shit to say coming from the likes of you!”

Not another second was wasted on him as you quickly made your way to the front door and opened it.

“YN!” he called for you, but you didn’t turn back around as you slammed the door behind you.

Sungchan stood from the table, just causing both Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon to stand on their feet from the couch. Shotaro was even at Sungchan’s side, placing his hands on his shoulders.

“Let go, Taro!” Sungchan snapped.

“Nah, keep him there,” Jake gave him a narrowed look, “You need to cut this shit out, Chan.”

Sungchan opened his mouth to fight, but Chaewon stopped it, “Chan, that is enough! Seriously!” All eyes went to her, “You need to accept the fact that YN has moved on and she is happy! I’ve never seen her this happy before…” Chaewon looked down at her plate, “I don’t know what you were hoping for with this trip, but you really need to know your place.” Without another word, Chae picked up her plate and rushed into her bedroom.

You kicked off your sandals at the edge of the steps to the house and stepped down onto the warm sand. Hovering your hand over your eyes to help see down the way better. Damn, the sun is so bright.

You found Soobin standing in the water facing towards the infinite ocean. His shoes and tee shirt were discarded at the edge of the beach right before where the water touched the sand. The waves crashed against his waist and the breeze blew his brown hair to the side. The sun illuminates his perfect honey skin, outlining the muscles of his back. Even from his back, he was a sight to see. So beautiful.

Soobin woke up earlier than everyone today and decided to be the one to make breakfast today. He had to admit, he was using it as a distraction. A way to get him out of the same bed with you. You looked so peaceful while you slept and it took everything in Soobin to not pull you toward him and wrap his arms around you. So he forced himself out of bed instead and made everyone breakfast. It wasn’t really early, the night before obviously made everyone sleep in a bit longer, but Soobin pushed the idea of trying out a restaurant later that night, ate his breakfast, and quickly left the house.

He needed to get out of that house and put more distance away from you. Not because he wanted to be away from you, but because he couldn’t think straight around you. Not after last night. The feeling of your lips lingered on his. The touch of your skin in the palm of his hand as he held you close to him. The way your fingers fit perfectly together with his.

It all rang in his head. Along with his damned trope. Soulmates didn’t exist. It was just a ploy to keep the population in control. To give the people something to believe in. It wasn’t real.

Yet Soobin knew he felt that red string of fate tied his heart to yours. He might not know what your trope is, and frankly, he’s terrified to find out. What if your tropes don’t match? Or what if your trope is whatever Soobin isn’t? He’s never once in his life ever thought about these questions. He’s spent those years after receiving his trope not believing in a damn thing about it. But you changed everything. One look in your eyes after that kiss and he was on his knees.

Soobin guessed the whole reason he needed to be officially alone right now was to sort out his thoughts and decide whether he wanted to accept his fate. Regardless of what he decided to do, you now had him wrapped around your finger and he was stupid if he’d let you go once this trip was over.

He heard shuffles of sand and already knew it was you standing at the edge of the water behind him. After his heart was tied to you, he swore he could hear your heart beating. He knows the sound of your heart.

You knew he knew you were there, you couldn’t explain how, but you just knew. You took one more step, letting the ocean take up to your ankles. You kept your eyes locked to his back, your heart racing.

Soobin chuckled, “It’s just me, YN, no need to be nervous.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but stopped the moment Soobin turned around slightly to look at you. The way the sun was shining down on him…the look of endearment and the soft smile he was giving you. Your eyes widened, the red string fully tying your heart to his.

“Sunshine!” the acolyte cheered, her hands clasping together and smiling wide down at you, “Your trope is sunshine! How wonderful!” Wonderful? What the fuck kind of trope is sunshine? What the fuck does that even mean?

You had hope for your trope. You really did. You spent all that time as a child counting down the days until your eighteenth birthday and marched right to the church to receive yours. But the moment your trope was in your grasp, everything failed you. You stopped believing. Yes, you tried experimenting with your trope, but it failed you every time.

You tried meeting people with sunshine personalities, tried going to bright sunny places, and each time, it failed. You gave up and believed soulmates didn’t exist. Or even if they did, you didn’t have one.

You held that statement as true until just now, staring into Soobin’s eyes.

The world finally all made sense to you. Sunshine. Soobin was sunshine. He’s your sunshine. Your trope wasn’t about the sun or the personality of someone. It was both. It was Soobin. The embodiment of sunshine with the sun shining down brightly on him.

You could hear his heart beating in your ears, its steady pace mixed with a hint of nervousness. And he told you he had no reason to be nervous?

He turned fully toward you, walking up and closing the gap between the two of you. He lifted his hands from the cool water and rested them on your biceps, the corners of his lips curling up more.

“Soobin,” you whispered, “I—“

The echoes of your friends' laughter filled the summer air, each of them pushing out of the house and in their swimwear. Jake held fishing poles in his hands, “Soobin!” he yelled, “Come spend time with the bros!”

Sunghoon held up a tacklebox of fishing items, “Yeah! Jay is bringing his expensive alcohol too!”

Jay was now holding up his bottles of whiskey, “I’m being forced to bring them, but I’ll share nevertheless.”

Soobin’s smile grew more and it only made your heart flutter. This was his real smile, not the fake one he’s been acting out with the last couple of days. This was his true show of happiness.

Soobin glanced away from your friends and saw the look of confusion on your face. Soobin knew that look without even having to ask you what was wrong. He cupped your face and placed his lips to your forehead, “We can talk later, okay?”

You nodded, quickly wrapping your arms around his body and pulling him close, resting your head on his chest, “Have fun stealing my friends from me.”

Soobin chuckled again, and leaned into your hug, holding you against him, “Too bad, they are my friends now,” You went to protest, but he was pulling away and splashing you with water, “I’ll see you later, okay?”

You said nothing as you watched him run out of the water, stopping to grab his shirt and shoes and jogging up to Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon. Shotaro and Sungchan slowly followed behind them.

The rest of the day became busier than you were hoping for. Once the boys were back from fishing and everyone showered off the sand and salt water, it was time to hit up the restaurant.

It was within walking distance from the house, so Taro was really big on saving up everyone’s gas and suggested just walking. No one was against it.

But that meant moving in a pack. Everyone surrounded you and Soobin and it left no chances to talk. Even after dinner, Yunjin and Sakura wanted to stop for ice cream, and again, no one rejected it.

Soobin was kind enough to buy your ice cream for you and even shared some of his. It only made the need for you to talk to him run so much deeper. This couldn’t just be the behavior of acting like your fake boyfriend…was it?

Little did you know Soobin was also dying to talk to you as well. He tried to find any opportunity to pull you to the side and talk but the odds just weren’t in his favor.

But he was nervous and the closer the beach house came back into view the more his heart pounded. It only got worse once he was alone with you in the shared bedroom.

You looked exhausted. Soobin definitely was. It was a busy and exhausting day. Not just because of your friends, but the endless thoughts that circulated both your minds. It was hard to tell if talking about whatever this was, was a good idea at the moment.

But you also knew it couldn’t wait.

Soobin sat down on the bed, facing himself toward you. You tried to fight back a yawn as you climbed into the bed. He tilted his head, “Do you want to talk? We could always talk in the morning, YN.”

Hearing those words honestly made you feel better. It meant not having to address everything right here and now but also gave proof that Soobin still wanted to have that conversation. You stopped fighting the yawn and nodded, pulling the covers back and laying down on your side, facing away from him.

The bed shifted as Soobin turned the lamp off, the room now being lit by the moonlight that peeked through the curtains of the windows. The bed shifted more and you could hear Soobin’s heart, “Can…” he sighs, “Can I hold you?”

“Yes,” you replied quickly. Already scooting yourself to the middle of the bed, your back meeting Soobin’s chest. He pushed his arm underneath the pillow and wrapped it around your chest and hand linking to your shoulder while the other hung over your waist, his hand resting on your tummy.

Holding you was everything he could have hoped it would be. Your body is the perfect fit against his. You shifted a little in hopes of getting closer, only to rub your ass against his crotch. His fingers at your shoulder gripped your shirt while the other squeezed your tummy, “YN,” he said in a soft warning tone, “Please don’t move.”

You didn’t mean to grind against him, you just wanted to be more comfortable and closer to him. But now with the growing hardness against your ass and the sound of his heart racing in your ears, your own pool of desire is raised.

Soobin was now squeezing your frame tightly, using all his strength to not start grinding his cock against you. To keep himself under control. But it was so damn hard when he could hear how your heart was fluttering. Could feel how your body was now shaking. He squeezed you tighter, his arm squeezing your breasts and a soft gasp let your lips. It was enough to send a chill down his spine and for his hips to buck without his permission.

You softly giggle, “And you told me not to move.” Your teasing just then flipped a switch with him.

Soobin was smirking and tucking his face into your neck, pressing his now hard cock against your ass, “Maybe if you’d stop wiggling, I wouldn’t either,” he whispered to your skin. The brush of his lips as he talked had goosebumps raised on your skin.

You rocked your hips, grinding on his clothed cock, “Stop rubbing against me, and I’ll stop rubbing against you.”

A chuckle left his mouth but he didn’t stop moving and neither did you. The two of you kept moving, rocking your hips back and forth against each other. Soobin’s hand on your belly moved lower and lower as time progressed. You’ve done things like this before with other guys, same with Soobin and females. But with the way you both were breathing, how in sync your hearts were beating, the feeling of being this close…It made everything ten times better.

Was it because…it had to be.

Soobin pushed his fingers down to the band of your shorts, slipping his fingers underneath it, “Can I touch you?” he whispered in your ear, placing a kiss on the shell of it, “Please, can I touch you?”

You nodded, placing your hand on top of his and pushing it down, guiding him slowly to where you need him the most right now. And once his fingers cupped your heat, you flung your head back onto his shoulder.

“Shit YN,” he breathed, “So wet, and I haven’t even fully touched you yet.”

You lifted your leg up and over his legs, giving him more access to you. His index and ring fingers spread your lips apart, the middle slowly rubbing at your clit.

You softly moan, arching your back. But Soobin’s hold on you with his other arm around your chest kept you from moving too much, holding you tightly to his chest.

You started once again rocking your hips, doing it in hopes he would move faster, and slid his fingers into you. Soobin wasn’t stupid, he could tell you wanted more, “What do you want?” he whispered, biting at the shell of your ear, “Tell me what you want, baby.”

“L-lower,” you whimper, “Faster, please.”

Soobin hummed, sliding his middle finger to your entrance, “Is this what you want, baby?”

You nodded, bucking your hips. Soobin smirked and slowly pushed his index and middle fingers in. You both let out a breathy groan as his fingers slid in all the way to his knuckles, your cunt squeezing around them.

Soobin pushed them in and out, in and out, starting at a slow pace and slowly picking up speed. Your body was shaking against his, his cock growing more needier by the second.

He wanted you. Oh, good gods he wanted you.

“Baby,” he shifted a bit, his body slightly towering over yours, “Can I have you?”

You nodded frantically, your hands reaching for him and pulling him into a kiss, “Please,” you whispered against his lips.

Soobin completely shifted himself over you, hovering just the right amount to keep his fingers filling you while his other hand reached for the ends of your shirt, “I want this off.”

You smirked, “Take it off me yourself.”

Soobin chuckled on your lips, removing his fingers from your cunt and sliding his hands up your body, taking your shirt with them.

It didn’t take long for all of your and Soobin’s clothing to be thrown in all different directions of the room, leaving you skin to skin.

There was something so beautiful about being connected to you like this. The way your skin felt on his. How your bare legs wrapped around his waist and lips kissed down his neck. It was something Soobin wanted to be painted into his memory forever. It wasn’t even just about the sex you were about to have. It was all about you.

Soobin couldn’t stop the gasp that let his mouth as his cock slid deep inside you, the tip kissing beautifully at your cervix. He held you tightly to him as he started moving, keeping one hand gripping your thigh, “Fuck, YN. YN. YN. YN.” Your name chanted from his lips. It flowed out so easily. Like your name belonged in his mouth.

“Soobin,” you whispered, pulling your face from his neck and laying down on the pillow, cupping his face between your hands, his pretty brown eyes staring back at you, “I think…no, I know it. You’re my soulmate.”

Hearing those words had Soobin melting. His face fell to your neck, hand squeezing your thigh tighter, “And you’re mine,” he whispered back, “Oh gods you’re mine.”

With all your strength, you rolled him over onto his back, straddling him. You took his hands in yours and you rode him, squeezing his hands with each roll of your hips. You don’t know what came over you, but hearing how you were his, it did something, “Say it again, please.”

Soobin squeezed your hands tighter, “You’re mine.”

“Again.”

He smiled, “You’re mine. You’re my soulmate. Mine. Mine. Mine.”

The words came out so easily for someone who didn’t believe in them at first. But looking at you like this, all on top of him, riding his cock, how could he not believe in it? Your hearts were now tied together. He belonged to you. You belonged to him. And he had no problem chanting out those words until he was cumming deep inside you. Continued chanting them as he flipped you onto your back and his fingers once again found their home inside you, chanting them as you came around them.

Soobin used to curse his trope, but now all he could do was thank it. It gave him you.

“We’ve been out here for an hour,” Sunghoon groaned, throwing his head back over the chair, hands gripping the fishing pole, “Jake, why did we have to come fishing again?”

Jake glared over at him, “Because we had massive luck yesterday. Figured we would today as well,” Jake shrugged and glanced back out into the water, “Not my fault you’re being crabby today.”

Sunghoon groaned again as he lifted back up his head, tilting it to the side to look at Soobin, “Try sharing a room next door to them at night and tell me if you wouldn’t be crabby.”

Sunghoon’s words went in one ear and out the other, he was too busy staring down at a text message from you. But Sunghoon’s clearing his voice brought him back to the guys around him, “What?”

Jake scoffed with a smirk, “You know what. The whole house heard the two of you last night.”

Soobin grinned as he shifted his gaze off to the water, “And that’s my problem how?” he said in a teasing voice.

You and Soobin continued your sexual activities after the first round. Neither of you could get enough of the other and eventually, you both stopped caring to keep quiet. It was just unfortunate for those in the house.

Jay nudged Soobin’s shoulder, “Am I going to have to buy some earplugs tonight?” he joked.

Soobin shrugged and smirked at Jay, “Possibly, we do still have one more full day left to cause some chaos.”

“Please don’t,” Shotaro chuckled, “I enjoy my sleep.”

The males all laughed and continued their teasing, except Soobin noticed Sungchan being awfully quiet and staring down at the docks they all sat on.

Sunghoon nudged Soobin, leaning closer to him and whispering, “I’m actually really glad you and her have something. She seems so happy being with you.”

Soobin knew that Sunghoon was aware that at first, this was all an act. So honestly hearing those words made him happy. You and Sunghoon had talked with each other during breakfast this morning, so Soobin more than likely knew you confessed what was actually happening now. Soobin opened his mouth to reply back to Sunghoon, but a loud scoff following a chuckle had everyone turning their heads towards the direction it came from.

“Happy? She’s happy to be with you?” Sungchan laughed, turning to face Soobin directly, “You think I buy that? That you aren’t just some random guy she met on the bus that day? This is all an act. I know YN! Better than—“

“She’s my soulmate,” was all Soobin said. He had no desire or even the need to confirm nor deny Sungchan’s suspicions, “She’s my soulmate and I think you need to accept that and learn your place.”

Everyone fell silent, the only sound was the waves crashing against the wooden columns of the dock and the wind blowing past.

“Look man,” Soobin sighed, “I don’t know what you were hoping for with this vacation, but I would really appreciate it if you backed off my girl,” Soobin looked back out to the water, gripping at the handle of his fishing pole, “You’ve hurt her enough, let it go.”

Soobin was fueled with anger, so distracted he had no clue the line of his pole was being tugged, “SOOBIN!!” Jake yelled standing up to his feet and pointing at the ripples of the water, “YOU CAUGHT ONE! REEL THE LINE BACK!!!”

With the excitement of possibly catching a fish, Soobin threw his anger out the window, deciding it wasn’t worth worrying over Sungchan. Everyone was now aware that you were tied to him, and that’s all Soobin cared about at this moment.

Besides, of course, pulling his first fish of the day on the docks and cheering along with his new friends, “I have to show YN!” Sunghoon said, pointing at Soobin to lift up the fish and smile wide for a photo, sending it directly to you.

You sat on the couch with Yunjin between your legs on the floor in the middle of braiding her hair when Sunghoon sent you the cutest photo you’ve ever seen of your soulmate holding up his first catch of the day. It was adorable. You couldn't help but laugh and save the photo to your gallery, “Want to see the fish Soobin just caught?” you asked her and the other girls, turning your phone around to show them.

“He really is a cutie!” Sakura clapped her hands, “Fate was really on your side when picking out your soulmate!”

You didn’t even have to tell the girls that information, they just kind of guessed at it. Your smile wasn’t doing much justice for you. You’ve been smitten ever since your first kiss with Soobin, “Fate really was on my side, wasn’t it?”

You felt Chaewon’s eyes on you, a small sad smile on her face. The two of you have barely spoken to each other this entire trip and you could tell since the night of the bonfire, she’s had words she kept locked in her throat.

“Hey!” Yunjin sat up, her long red hair falling between your fingers, “The boys are still busy fishing, why don’t we go shopping? There’s a cute surf shop down the beach towards the pier I want to check out!”

Everyone agreed. As the girls stood up and rushed out the door, Chaewon gripped your wrist, “YN, can we talk first?”

You nodded, slowly turning to face her, “What is it?”

She let go of your wrist, “I am truly sorry! For everything!” You blinked at her, not expecting this conversation right off the bat, “Chan and I were drunk, we weren’t thinking straight. It only happened that one time and I promise you that. Chan got confused about his feelings, and that’s how it blew up as badly as it did. I wanted to tell you from the beginning, but Chan said he would take care of it and I was stupid to believe him on that,” she reached for your hands then and you let her, “I removed myself from our group because I thought you’d hate me. Sunghoon said you needed time and I wanted to respect that. But I miss our friendship, I miss you. I came on this trip wanting to fix our friendship, not because Sungchan told me to.”

You had to admit, you also missed her and your friendship with her. This trip hasn’t been completely the same because of the distance it put between the two of you. You already knew Sungchan was just trying to pull some fast moves, but Chaewon was being true from the beginning.

So you hugged her tightly, “I forgive you. I’ve missed you too so please don’t run away from me anymore, okay?” Chae nodded, hugging you tighter, “Now, let’s go get caught up with Sakura and Yunjin.”

With a giggle, you and Chae rushed out the door.

Before you knew it, Soobin was packing up your backs into the backseat of his car as you hugged your girlfriends tightly, “We need a girl's day soon!” You said, “I’ll kick Sunghoon out of the apartment for a day.”

Sunghoon sighed, crossing his arms, “You act like I don’t have a soulmate, other friends, or even Soobin I could hang out with for the day.”

Soobin wrapped his arm around Sunghoon’s shoulders, “Yeah, babe,” he said sticking his tongue out at you, “I’ll just steal your best friend.”

You glared at your now boyfriend, “You’d steal my best friend from me?”

Soobin shrugged, “If you’re going to kick him out, ya.”

You rolled your eyes and continued hugging your friends, deciding to fight your mate and best friend later at the apartment.

After all goodbye had been said, everyone piled into their own cars and drove off, leaving the beach house in the distance.

Soobin reached over and placed his hand on your thigh, squeezing the plush, “Did you enjoy yourself?”

You nodded, leaning back in the seat, “I really did,” you shifted your eyes to him, “Wasn’t expecting to gain my soulmate out of it though.”

Soobin chuckled, rubbing his thumb against your skin, “You and I both. By the way,” he glanced at you quickly, then back at the road, “What was your trope?”

“Sunshine,” You whispered, “It was sunshine.”

He smiled, biting at the corners of his lip, “Sunshine, huh.”

You sat up and leaned over the center console, poking your finger in his dimple, “And what was yours, my sunshine?”

Soobin took your hand in his, “Fake relationship,” your eyes widened at his trope, “Yeah,” he chuckled, “It wasn’t exactly the best.”

“You must have been freaking out when I asked you to be my fake boyfriend for the week, I’m so sorry!”

Soobin shook his head, “I…I didn’t believe in tropes or even soulmates. I thought it was weird and a coincidence. I’ve had many fake relationships before, so I thought this was no different,” he lifted your hand to his lips, playing a few soft kisses to the palm of your hand, “But you changed everything, obviously.”

You smiled, “It’s funny you say that, because I didn’t believe in tropes of soulmates either.”

Soobin quickly looked at you again, then back at the road, “Sunghoon literally has a soulmate!?”

You sat back in the seat and stared out the window, “Trust me, I know. Right in front of me and I still didn’t believe a lick of it.”

Soobin smirks, “Do you believe in it now?”

You giggled, squeezing his hand, “I do. How could I not when I have my own pocket full of sunshine?”

—p.tlist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @jwnghyuns

@in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi

@eneiyri @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty

@ladyartemesia @criminalyun @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez

@jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @pockettwinzz @vixialuvs

@seunghancore @enha-cafe @ppanghoon @sunpov @zeeloveshee

@hxxsxxng @moonrisearies @brownsugarbaybee @nshmrarki @vveebee

@teddybeartaetae @kookify @abysofsteel @aileeeeeeeeeeeee

@hee-lvrr @1309zip @moon0fthenight @jakeflvrz @021894s

#myhome #ohsh!twesoulmates #soobin #choi soobin #soobin x reader #reader x soobin #soobin smut #txt #tomorrow x together #txt x reader #reader x txt #txt fanfiction #txt fanfic #txt fluff #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt smut #txt suggestive #yeonzzzn writing

2K notes · View notes

fxrmuladaydreams · 4 months ago

Text

austria ‘24

lando x reader

summary: you let lando take his frustrations out on you after the austrain gp

notes: please please please forgive me for being gone for so long, it’s been hard finding the motivation to write lately, but this one came pretty easy to me after the race. i hope you enjoy it 🤍

warnings: !! CONTAINS SMUT, MINORS DNI !! oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, a little bit of degradation from lando

wc: 1467

You can’t remember exactly how long you’d held your breath for, standing next to Jon in the garage, gripping onto his arm as Lando and Max fought for the lead. You could practically feel your heart beating out of your chest. They were both aggressive, competitive drivers, neither backing down from the fight.

You feel your heart drop to your stomach as you see them make contact, both with punctures in their tyres as they slide into the gravel.

You close your eyes and let out a breath as Lando drives slowly back out onto the track, countless cars already zooming past. He manages to drag the car back to the pitlane, halting the mechanics work when he stands up and gets out of the car.

He keeps his helmet on as he walks past everyone, attempting to keep his cool while he’s still within view of the cameras.

“You should go talk to him.” Jon says to you, nodding in the direction Lando walked off in.

You sigh, mentally preparing yourself for what you're about to walk into.

You follow his path down the hall, stopping outside the door to his driver’s room. You lift a fist to the door and gently knock. When you don’t get a response you call out to him.

“Lando? It’s me…”

The door opens slightly, Lando’s hand reaches out to grab onto your wrist, tugging you inside, then closing the door again behind you.

He’s got his race suit hanging around his waist. His shoulders are tense as he paces back and forth in the small room. He looks like he’s trying to slow his breathing, to calm down, but can’t.

“Are you alright?” You ask softly.

“Fine.” His voice is short, clipped, giving you a warning that he’s trying his best not to blow up, especially at you.

You sigh, and lean against the wall, watching as he moves around the room. He’s clearly trying to keep himself distracted, occupied as he fiddles with the strap on his helmet.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He looks up at you for the first time when you ask. His eyes are rimmed with red, his cheeks flushed, and his face still damp with sweat. You can’t tell if he’s about to cry or burst from frustration. He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“Max pushed too hard.”

He closes his mouth, his brows raising in surprise.

“He pushed you off track. It’s clearly visible in the footage.”

“The FIA won’t do anything about it.” He grumbles. “He always wins, he’s always on top… I can’t believe he would wreck my race like that.” He huffs. “I was driving fair, and he just completely wrecked my car. And he’s still going to get points.”

You reach out for his hand and pull him over to you.

“There was nothing you could’ve done.” You gently stroke his cheek. “Is there anything I can do?”

He shakes his head, looking down at his hand in yours.

You tilt his chin up to look at you again. “Maybe… help you blow off some steam?” Your hand moves to tangle itself in his hair.

“I need to go talk to the media…” He murmurs, resting his forehead against yours, clearly not making any move to leave you.

“And think of how grateful everyone will be if you go back out there with a clearer head…”

Before he can reply you tilt your head up to give him a teasing kiss. His lips chase yours when you pull away.

“Your choice, handsome.”

He wastes no time lifting you up by your legs, keeping your body trapped between his and the wall behind you. His lips crash against yours in a desperate needy kiss. His hands grip onto your thighs, hard enough that you wonder if you’ll have his handprints bruised into your skin by the time he’s finished with you.

He rolls his hips against yours as he kisses you, his already tight fireproofs feeling so much tighter against him.

His mouth trails down the side of your neck, leaving harsh bites in its trail. You let your head roll to the side, giving him more space to mark you up. Part of you wonders how difficult it’s going to be, hiding his marks when you leave, but with a roll of his hips and a low moan from his throat, all thoughts go out the door.

“Need you.” He groans in your ear.

He lets your legs drop back down to the ground, as he drops to his knees. His hands make quick work of your pants, tugging them down your legs so you can kick them off. He does the same with your underwear, then lets his fingers run through your folds.

“So wet for me.” He smirks up at you. He licks his fingers, and moans at the taste of you. He lifts one of your legs, putting it over his shoulder before he practically dives in to taste you.

Your hands tangle themselves in his messy curls, your head thrown back against the wall. You whimper as Lando sucks harshly on your clit, eager to get you to fall apart on his tongue.

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer, as you pull on his hair, dragging his face away from your cunt.

He looks up at you surprised, almost offended, with his hazy eyes and your slick covering his chin.

“I need you to fuck me.” You tell him.

He grins, standing back up as he pulls his fireproofs down enough to free his cock.

He’s so hard, heavy in your hand as you stroke him.

He lifts you back up again, sliding the tip of his cock through your folds.

“Ready?” He asks.

You nod, then gasp, feeling him fill you up completely in one quick thrust. He stills for a moment, allowing you time to adjust, then gives an experimental thrust.

Your moan urges him to keep going. He fucks into you faster and harder than he’s ever done it before. You wrap your arms around him, attempting to keep yourself upright and stable.

He shows no sign of slowing, even as you tighten around him and moan his name, set on using you for his own pleasure, and it’s making you even more desperate for him.

He moves a hand to press his thumb against your clit, quickly hurtling you towards your orgasm.

You cry out, squeezing your eyes shut as he pounds relentlessly into you.

“That’s it, cum on my cock.” He growls. “Where do you want me to cum? Gonna let me cum inside you?” His voice is teasing.

You nod your head, unable to speak.

“Oh, have you become dumb on my cock?” He coos at you.

You can’t reply, simply burying your face in his neck.

“That’s okay. You don’t need to think baby, I’m gonna give you what you need, gonna fill you up with my cum…”

With a few more hard thrusts he feels himself spilling inside you, stilling his hips against yours. He takes a moment to catch his breath, then pulls out and gently lets your feet fall to the floor.

Your grip on him becomes tighter as you feel your legs nearly give out beneath you.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” He says, carefully guiding you to the couch.

You try to calm your heartbeat, running a hand over your face.

He tucks himself back into his pants as he looks at you. “Shit, sorry…” Lando grimaces, looking between your legs.

While the sight of his cum spilling out of you sends a new wave of arousal down to his cock again, he searches for a towel.

In the many times the two of you had had sex, he’d never actually cum inside you before, always using a condom or pulling out.

He sits on his knees in front of you, gently wiping between your legs with the towel, apologizing when you wince.

“It’s okay, I’m okay.” You smile at him. “Feeling better?”

He shrugs, but smiles. “About the race? Not really. About what just happened? Abso-fucking-lutely.”

You laugh as he grins. “You should go. Don’t want to keep the press waiting for you for too long.”

He leans his head against your knee. “Or… I could stay here, and we could do that all over again…”

You shake your head, grinning at him. “I will not be the reason you’re late.”

He huffs dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Fine.” He stands up, only to drop down on the couch next to you. “But you’d better still be here when I come back.”

“I will.” You nod.

“Without pants.” He says with a smirk, slipping out the door before you can reply.

#lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #formula one x reader

1K notes · View notes

no-144444 · 2 months ago

Text

family fights- o.piastri

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

summary: you and oscar were never meant to be together, lando made that clear. one night changes everything, then another changes it again.

pairing: oscar piastr x fem! norris! reader

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

He’d done it again. Another win. Oscar Piastri was a two-time GP winner.

And no one could ever take this one away from him.

Over the past few weekends, he’d been pretty down about everything. Hungary, the whole ‘papaya rules’ bullshit, and how everyone had something to say about Monza. He’s a fucking racecar driver, and he wasn’t a second driver. It’s in his goddamn contract, thanks to Mark. And anyways, why would he pull over and let Lando take points from him, when he’s so close to P3 in the Driver’s standings? Charles is slowly but surely trying to build a gap, and Oscar is not planning on making it easy for him. It’s his second fucking season of F1, and he’s matching his teammate. Is that not something to be proud of?

Apparently not in Lando’s fan girls’ eyes. It’s pathetic really, the memes were funny a while ago, and now it’s all getting to be too much.

And then there’s you. Lando’s sweet little sister who loved Oscar more than life itself. You’d gotten him through the lows of the past few weeks, with just a smile his way.

But Lando wouldn't let you two be together. It was a ‘betrayal’, in his mind.

It was bullshit. Lando liked having something over him, and you were the ‘thing’ in this scenario. You’d liked Oscar for ages, and you started in secret, too scared to tell Lando. You continued like that for a whole year, somehow hiding it seamlessly. It was the best relationship either of you had ever been in. You matched each other perfectly, and you got to see him everyday, since Lando had brought you on as his physio. Stolen kisses behind closed doors was a-ok with you two, until Lando had to walk into something he wasn’t supposed to. It was your anniversary night and yes, maybe you should’ve checked that the door was properly locked, but when he was kissing you like that? Who would be able to find it in themselves to care? For some reason, Lando walked into your apartment, ready to tell you off for not locking your door, and he found you and Oscar asleep in your bed, 1 year anniversary cards on the counter, and a bottle of wine beside the sink. On the drying rack there were 2 clean plates, two sets of cutlery, two glasses, one bowl, and two spoons. He was so angry. He just stormed in and started screaming at the two of you, telling you that you’d betrayed him for a whole year, making accusations left and right, and generally just ruining your perfect night.

Then he gave the both of you an ultimatum. Date and lose him as a brother and a friend, or break up and he’d never speak about it again. You two could be friends, but always at a healthy distance.

It took you both a week to make the decision. You were both crying when you called him to tell him you’d broken up. His response? Good.

He barely talked to either of you for a month, and you truly feared the worst for your relationship with him. But, in true Lando fashion, one day he just started to be normal again, and everything was ok.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Oscar still remembered the way you looked when he'd made the choice to go behind Lando's back. You were wearing your favourite dress, you hair styled perfectly, your nails done, your makeup done, everything. It was for some boring gala that Oscar didn't want to sit through, and neither did you. Though nevertheless you went as the dutiful sister you were and made polite conversation with the gross old dudes who wouldn't leave you alone, and Oscar (he hoped he wasn't grouped in with them).

"Do you want to get some air?" he offered as you finished up a conversation with Christian Horner.

"I'd love to," you nodded, somehow keeping the soft smile on your face.

You burst out of the hall laughing, having run away from Lando. You got on well with Oscar. He was lovely, honestly. "He's going to kill us," you laughed, grabbing ahold of his shoulder to steady yourself.

"Worth it," he smirked.

You two spent some time outside, eventually ending up outside in the cold French air. You two somehow ended up intertwined on a bench outside the venue.

"I really enjoyed sneaking off with you," you beamed at him.

"I really enjoyed it too," he blushed. "We should do it again some time."

You laughed. "I think Lando will kill us if we pull that again-"

You stopped talking because he'd started kissing you, and you didn't want him to stop.

"I like you," he pulled back. "A lot."

It was so juvenile you almost laughed. Yet, you found yourself answering with; "I like you too."

And thus began your year-long love.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

To be honest, Oscar hated clubs. He hated the sweaty air, the suffocating closeness of everyone, and the heavy drinking. Oscar didn’t drink much, mainly a glass of wine with dinner every now and then, or a celebration drink when there was something to celebrate. He wasn’t a huge fan of feeling out of control.

Despite all of that, he’d somehow been convinced by Lando to go ‘out on the town’. He didn’t want to go out on the town. He wanted to stay home, or bump into you in the cinema near your shared apartment building. You two had been doing that a lot lately, bumping into each other there. You’d sit together, or a few chairs apart, but it’d feel a bit like before you’d broken up. It felt good.

You missed him dearly, as he did you. He knew you were going to see a special midnight showing of Psycho, yet he couldn’t even go because Lando dragged him out.

“Mate!” Lando shouted from the other side of the VIP booth.

“What?” Oscar asked, walking up to him.

“I have someone I want you to meet,” Lando, being the prick he is, signalled to a girl in the middle of the dance floor that looked nothing like you. “Look, she’s nothing like Y/n! It’s perfect!”

Oscar felt his blood boil, and finally spill over. “Fuck off Lando. That’s not fair-”

“What’s not fair was the fact that you dated my little sister behind my back!” He shot back.

Oscar grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him out of the club, into the humid Monaco air. This back alley was usually used for a smoke break, but tonight it would be used as a fucking ring.

“I’m not expecting you to understand anything I'm going to say, but fuck you Lando. I loved Y/n- I love Y/n, and you took that all away from me because of what?! You felt betrayed? You felt bad? It was overwhelming? We’ve proven that we’re not awkward if we break up, we’re actually ridiculously civil, all for your sake! You’re the one being unfair here. Yes, maybe we should’ve told you earlier. Yes, maybe it was wrong to keep it from you, but for fuck’s sake man! She’s your little sister, I’m your friend, it’s not like you don’t know us! I’d never do anything to hurt her, and she’d never use me, or whatever bullshit excuse you gave me. Now, I know you don’t fucking understand this, but I love her. More than anything in the entire fucking world. More than racing, more than anything. She’s what gets me through the shitty days and even shittier races. Knowing that, once I get out of the car, she’ll be standing there with a smile, or a hug on the occasions where you don’t watch us like a fucking hawk, makes it all fucking worth it for me. You took that away from me, and you took it away from her. It ate at her the entire year we were together that she couldn’t tell you, because well, of course it would! You are her older brother, her best friend. She should’ve been able to tell you about her boyfriend. She questioned herself after every day we spent together, every date we went on, about whether or not what we were doing was right. She felt so guilty. I felt so guilty. But at the end of the day when I saw her waiting for me in my driver’s room, or my apartment, or at the foot of the podium, I knew that what I felt was right. And it wasn’t just me feeling it Lan, she loved me back,” he sniffled, trying to hold back tears. “So no, I don’t want to meet someone at a club, I want Y/n. My Y/n. And I don’t give a fuck if you’re upset by that, because I’ve given you every reason to trust me Lando, and I promise you, I’ll never try to hurt her. I’ll keep her safe, and above all, I’ll love her.”

Lando was taken aback. He was a lot more sober now. He’d never seen Oscar show so much emotion. He’d never seen Oscar show much emotion, point blank. Yet here he was, standing in front of him, crying over his little sister. “Mate, what do you mean?”

“I means you’re a fucking asshole Lando, and I don’t give a shit if you don’t want me to date Y/n. It means I’m going to ask her out again, and if she says yes I won’t stop just because you’re a dickhead who can’t stomach the fact that she loves me, and I love her.”

Lando was again, taken aback. He’d never really had a reason as to why he didn’t like you and Oscar dating, it just felt… weird to him. Then, with about a moment's worth of self-reflection, he realised. He didn’t want to be second to Oscar. All his life, you’d been his biggest supporter, you two were always together, always there for each other, always his little sister. From cradle, to karting, coffin, he thought he’d be the only driver you supported and cared about. Then, in came Oscar, being everything he wanted to be; cool, calm, collected, talented, unprideful, gracious, and kind. Everything he worked to be. It had taken Lando 6 years to get a win, Oscar did it in his first year. It took Lando 2 years to get a podium, Oscar did it in his debut season. “Well it’s just not right,” Lando shot back. “She’s my little sister, and I’m not being second to you with her! That’s not fair. She doesn’t get to choose you over me!”

“She chose you! She broke up with me because you asked her to! I don’t know what the fuck you think is going to happen if we start dating again, but it’s not like we’ll just abandon you Lando! She’s your sister, and she loves you more than life itself! For fuck’s sake, if this was all about being scared that she’d pick me over you, we could’ve sorted this out weeks ago!”

“I have to be second place to a fucking rookie! Do you know how that feels? Bad, Oscar, it feels bad. And now you want to come here and tell me that I’m second place to that same rookie, in my sister’s opinion? Y’know how that feels? Worse!” Lando was crying now, unable to control it. “I’ve been second to someone my whole fucking life, and Y/n was the one person who understood me! And now you want to take her away!”

“I’m not taking her away, Lando! We’re both still going to be here for you!” Oscar took a deep breath. “You shouldn’t take your frustrations on the track out on her, she’s the one suffering for it. You’re suffering for it too, and so am I. Lando, she loves you no matter what, you know that.” “I’m scared alright?” He groaned. “I’m scared that one day I’ll turn around after an interview and see her celebrating you winning over me! I’m scared that she’ll see I’m not as good as you! I’m scared.”

“You can be scared all you want, but she isn’t like that, Lando. Talk to her about this, she’ll reassure you-”

“And how the fuck would you know? You barely know her-”

“I know her a lot better than you do if this is what you think of her,” Oscar’s words cut through the tension in the warm air. Lando flinched like he’d been hit. “Now, if you’ll excuse me from this shitty night out, I’m going to go find your sister and tell her how I feel. Goodbye Lando.”

Oscar didn’t even bother going back inside to grab his coat, he just started walking. Jimmy’s was a 30 minute walk from your regular cinema, and if his calculations were correct, you’d be getting out of the screening just then.

As he walked he thought about everything Lando had said. It was pathetic, honestly, why couldn’t Lando have just told you how he felt instead of ruining the incredible thing you and Oscar had going with his own insecurities. Maybe he didn’t understand it, maybe Lando just hadn’t experienced what you two had.

“Oscar?” you walked up to him, smiling.

“Hi,” he answered, stopping in his tracks.

“How are you?” you asked, awkward tension filling the air.

“I’m… I’m alright. I wanted to talk to you,” he explained.

“Talk away,” you smiled.

“Well… Lando and I had this big blow up argument, and I made a choice. I don’t care what he wants anymore, and if he has a problem with me loving you, then it’s his problem, not ours. I want you back Y/n, more than anything. I miss you every fucking day. And if the only reason we’re not together is because of him, then I’m forgetting how he feels. I want you back if you’ll have me.”

You stood there, shocked. It had been 4 months since you and Oscar had broken up. You loved him, but you loved your brother too. You couldn’t put your relationship with your brother at risk for Oscar, could you? Lando had been for you throughout your childhood, a constant. You wouldn’t be able to handle him not being there, would you? “Oscar, when did you two argue-?” “30 minutes ago?” he shrugged, a soft smile on his lips.

“I-oh wow. Osc, you know I love you, but Lando’s my brother and… I can’t betray him, can I?”

“Is it betrayal?” Oscar questioned.

You’d been trying to figure out for the past 4 months why it was betrayal, yet you came up blank every time. Lando had dated friends of yours, and broken their hearts, why shouldn’t you return the favour? “But he said it was. He’s my brother Osc… I can’t just… ruin our relationship-”

“He ruined ours!” he sighed, exasperated. “All because he’s a insecure prick, no offence-” “None taken-” “And he was scared you’d stop picking him over me, which I understand but like, for fuck’s sake, he could’ve just spoken to you about it!”

You thought for a moment. What did you want? Oscar. Always. You woke up thinking about him, fell asleep thinking about him, dreamt of him. He was everything you’d ever wanted. “Are we really going to do this Osc?” you whispered into the darkness of the night.

His lips turned into a smile, and then they were on yours. He’d gotten the girl, he’d gotten the win, and he didn’t care what anyone else said.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula one imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula one #mclaren #oscar piastri x fem!reader #f1 fluff #lando x reader #lando norris x publicist reader #lando norris x reader angst #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris

1K notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 1 month ago

Text

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic - tw: pregnancy Simon Riley / female reader

"Happy Birthday Orion, happy birthday to you!"

Everyone claps and your baby, no, your one year old, beams, enamored by the attention as his dad leans over and points at the candles. "Can you blow? Like this," he mimics, only to receive a giggle instead, Orion's eyes turning serious as he watches his dad blow the candles out in one short breath, his fists crashing into the cake and then smashing it on Simon's nose.

Your hand settles over your stomach subconsciously.

Everyone laughs. Kyle practically howls, Johnny bending over at the waist. The reaction makes Orion giggle like mad, and you lean against the door frame, soaking it in.

You already sent a million pictures to your family, hoping to alleviate their guilt about not being able to make it, their absence missed but not to a point where you feel it sharply.

Things are just different now.

You've built a life, this life, with Simon and Orion. With Cami, and Kyle, Ellie and John, even Johnny. It's a life you're happy in, a life you love, tucked up in this quiet town, nestled in the hills. The three of you, the wives, formed a friendship, a connection, leaning on each for support, building camaraderie over the long weeks and months of being alone.

Simon clears his throat at your side. "Where are you?"

"Nowhere." You lay your head on him. "I can't believe we have a one year old."

"I know. It's going too fast." He wraps his arms around your shoulders, tucking you close. "Cute bugger though." Orion is half eating his cake, half smashing into onto Johnny's face. He swats your ass. "C'mon. Don't you want a picture?"

Later, when everyone is gone, and the kitchen is clean, and the windows are open to let in the breeze, you teeter at the edge of the room while Simon puts Orion down. "Stop growing up, big guy." He traces two fingers down his cheek, careful not wake him. "Love you." Your heart skips.

"He asleep?" He doesn't even turn. He knew you were there, he always knows where you are in the house, like he can hear your breathing, or sense you.

"He is." You reach for him.

"Come on, let's go to bed."

Simon coaxed your initial agreement to have another baby out when he was holding you on the edge, cock nestled inside you, his uniform scraping against your skin. It was a heat of the moment thing, a 'please make me come' thing, but afterwards-

Afterwards, you sat with it. You sat with it for months. You tossed it back and forth, wavering, walking the tightrope of the decision.

You knew, in your heart, all along.

There was no decision to make.

You curl into him, mangled and mashed against his body, legs twisted together, an arm anchoring your thigh. "You've been thinkin' all day, honey. Don't think I haven't seen ya."

"I have." Your voice is gentle in the dark, soft as a whisper, breathy on his chest. He tenses.

"What is it?" He doesn't like this, you know. Doesn't like when you slip into your own mind. Since the incident, it's been harder, harder for him to feel comfortable, harder for him to push back against his anxiety. He worries, too much. Far too much.

"Everything's fine," you assure quickly, "Everything is okay, Si. I promise." It's building up inside you, a storm destroying everything in its path, fighting its way forward until there's no choice left except to let it out.

"Tell me, mama. Whatever it is, I-"

"I'm pregnant." He freezes.

"What?"

"I'm pregnant, Simon." You're rolled onto your back immediately, arms caging you in, thighs spread and bracketing yours.

"Tell me again." He demands, and you laugh, tangling your fingertips in his hair, tugging on his arm to drag his hand across your lower belly.

"We're having another baby." There's a look in his eye, heavy and wild, rich unending depths, one you're familiar with now, the instinctual, possessive, insane look he gets when you catch him staring at you. He doesn't speak, the silence sparking unease in the back of your mind. "Say something." He shakes his head, rolling down your body until he's nestled between your knees, mouth hot beneath your belly button.

"I'm gonna take care of you, of both of you," he pants the oath, inscribing it, branding you. "I'm gonna take such good care o' you, mama."

"I know Si, I know."

"I'm gonna be here, I'll take leave, text Price right now-"

"Okay, slow down," you knead his shoulders, "we've got a ways to go until you'll need to take leave, okay? Don't worry." His forehead rests on your stomach, and you can't resist the urge to poke at him a bit. "So... you're happy about it then?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm... I'm very happy." The words are thick, and he keeps his face turned down so you can't see. They sound wet. "I love you. You're everything to me. Orion, you, this baby- I... love you."

"I love you too." He tugs, pulling you close.

"I hope it's a girl. A little piece of you, with your eyes." You smile, stroking his hair.

"We'll have to wait and see."

#peaches writes #through me (the flood)#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader

1K notes · View notes

mywritersmind · 20 days ago

Note

hey girl! are you writing for franco atm??? if so I wanted to see if you could write smth like fluff or reader and franco get in a fight maybe bcs of the time zones and races and he surprises her one night before race weekend like he catches a flight to see her but she still won’t budge on talking to him xxx

YELL AND FLY - FC43

listen up : just arguing but ending in comfort. thanks for the request this lowk almost made me cry

word count : 877

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I can hear him pacing, the sounds of drilling and tires in the background, “I’m just tired, Franco.” We’ve been like this for an hour, I keep hearing him swear in spanish and making sure everyone leaves him alone.

“You don’t think I am?” he groans as someone tries to speak to him again, “Fuck, obviously I’m tired! You’re not the one working every weekend.”

I scoff and sit up in my bed, the sun not even up yet, “That's unfair and you know it, Franco! I work! I work even more when you’re away!” I say sarcastically, “But I'm sorry that you have to do the job you chose and you love!”

I shake my head as he responds, “I didn’t mean that, love.”

“Yes you did. And that’s fine but don’t push your anger onto me. You always do shit like this.”

“Like what?” His voice raises.

I run my hand into my hair, “You don’t think I support you.”

“Well it’s hard to think that when you’re not here supporting me.” I want to hit him, then myself. How could he think that? After I said I wanted to be there but couldn’t because I was fucking working. He takes it back quickly, “I’m sorry i’m just overwhelmed-”

“Franco. I’m tired.” Tired of this. Tired of waking up so early and staying up late for a ten minute call where we just fight, “we should talk about this later.”

He still sounds angry, “I’m busy all day.”

I stay silent. What am I supposed to say? Cry and tell him to not be? I have no choice but to nod.

“Good luck.”

He sighs, I hear the ruffling of his hair, “I’m sorry. I wish you were here.”

“Me too.” He’s mad at me and I’m mad at him. I’ve been with Franco long before his F1 debut, but us yelling over the phone every weekend isn’t something I expected with the job.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I watched his race, texted him, and logged off social media for the day. He’s off to Mexico but I just can’t leave right now. I’m sitting in the kitchen, eating my cereal and leaning over the counter while listening to Taylor Swift.

There’s a knock at the door, I groan. I’m in the same pajamas as two days ago and my hair is in the messiest bun I've seen in a while.

When I open the door, my jaw actually drops.

“Franco?” I poke him as if I think he’s some figment of my imagination. Have I really gone that crazy that I'm imagining my boyfriend at my door?

“Hi, love.” He’s real. He walks in, shutting the door softly. I want to cry as he slips his arms around me, “I’m so sorry.”

His voice washes over me and I hug him tighter, breathing him in and realizing how much I missed how he smells.

“I’m mad at you.” It comes out as a whisper, my voice broken and sad.

“You can be.” I pull back a bit, his hands in my hair, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Why are you here?” I cross my arms, stepping back.

Franco looks nervous, a bag by his side, “I wanted to see you. I thought you wanted that too…”

“Of course I did!” I sigh dramatically.

He smiles at my anger, “So, I'm here for you.”

I shake my head, going to the kitchen and cleaning up my breakfast. I don’t know how to feel. I’m so happy he’s here. But then what? He’ll just leave again and I’ll watch two second clips of him on the TV?

He follows me into the kitchen, “Love… Let me do it.” I let him because I hate the dishes.

I sit on the counter, watching him gently washing the bowl with his sleeves rolled up. He drys his hands, then looks up at me.

“I’m sorry for being mad.” I look at the floor but he steps in between my legs so I look at him, “It’s just hard.”

“It’s hard for me too. I want you there all the time but I'm so proud of you!” he puts his hands on my outer thighs, “Time Zones suck.”

I laugh, wiping my eyes from the tears that spill down my face, “I’m proud of you too. Shit, you’re so amazing. I hate working.”

“Quit.” He says it so fast.

“Franco!” I swat at his arm, letting out a sort of sob laugh.

“Okay, you can quit when I get a full time seat.” I laugh as he smiles softly up at me, “I know it’s rough right now.”

“We can work through it. We’re us.” His thumbs smooth over my cheeks.

He nods, “We’re us.”

“How long are you here for?”

He frowns, “I leave tomorrow night.” I frown with him, “But I'm here now.”

I sigh, knowing he’s right. I look up at my boyfriend, his hands on me. I know I need to live in the moment now.

I kiss him softly and he pulls me into another hug, his arms around my waist, “I love you.”

I run my hands through his hair, “I love you too. We can do this.”

#fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #franco colapinto fanfic #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto angst #franco colapinto fluff

445 notes · View notes

kiss-inthekitchen · 8 months ago

Text

same sky | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a late night phone call with Spencer. unruly amounts of fluff. no gender identifiers in this one. apologies to residents of las vegas, i did insult your city's aesthetics. i had to do it. for the plot

word count: 2k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3 by the same name. it's the second in a series of fics i've updated from my vault of oldies :) this one's for the girlies who liked the banter in no vacancy <3 oops! all banter

“I miss you,” you say into your cell phone, standing on the back porch and gazing out at the sky. It’s late, but you can’t sleep. Spencer has been gone on a case for the better part of a week, and you don’t sleep as well without him.

“I miss you, too. But I’ll be home soon,” Spencer replies, keeping his voice low.

“Is everyone else asleep?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day.”

“Where are you right now?” Even though you aren’t in danger of waking anyone up, you find yourself mirroring Spencer's tone.

“Best guess, somewhere over New Mexico.” They’ve been in the air about an hour, and given their trajectory, he’s pretty sure he’s right. Spencer is seated at the edge of the couch, his back against the arm of it and a blanket thrown over his legs, barely covering his mismatching-socked feet.

“How come you’re still up?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says. Somehow, he can feel you smiling across the line. It makes him smile, too. He doesn’t ask why you’re awake when it’s even later where you are; he knows already. "What are you doing?”

“Looking up at the stars.”

“You know, you won’t be able to see me up here.”

“Ha ha.”

“Here, I’ll open the shade on the plane window. At least we can share the same view.”

“Hm. Almost like we’re together,” you hum.

His heart aches. It’s only been a few days and he still can’t stand it. “Almost.”

For a minute, neither of you speak, looking out at the sky from two different time zones.

“When I wake up tomorrow morning, you’ll be here, right?”

“Mmhm. Maybe even before that,” he responds, a low, soothing hum in your ear.

“Should I stay up until you get here?” you already know what he'll say, but you kinda like the idea of it anyway.

“No, no, it’s at least another four hours. Don’t worry about it. When you wake up, I’ll be there.”

“Sounds good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You’d intended to let him go after just a quick call once you realized that the rest of the team were resting not too far from him, but you don’t want to hang up. He doesn’t make any moves to do so either, wanting to hear your voice as much as you want to hear his. “So, how was Tucson?”

“Oh, you know. Hot. Desert-y. Lots of murder.”

“Less murder now.”

“Yeah.”

His voice sounds strained. He doesn’t like indulging in a sense of accomplishment after closing a case, doesn’t ever feel like he’s done enough. He shows up too late and does too little, and then he gets to leave while the families of the victims have to pick up the pieces. You understand why he doesn’t like to think about the work that way, but you’ve tried to remind him that the good he does is incalculable; how many lives saved, how many tragedies avoided. It’s all you can do.

You pivot a little, not wanting him to get too caught up. “I remember, when I first moved to Virginia, I was so shocked at how green everything was. I swore I’d never seen that much green in my life.”

“I had a similar experience,” he says, fondly, aware of your tactics.

“Oh, I can only imagine. I’ve been to Vegas. It’s icky.”

“Icky?” he asks, laughing at your word choice.

“I mean, no offense, but… it’s kinda ugly.”

“Wow, okay, insult my hometown, why don’t you.”

You laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re right.”

“I know,” you sigh. “Always am.”

“Well, statistically, you actually have a seventy-two percent chance of being right, which is still impressive, but hardly a flawless track record.”

“Spencer Reid coming in hot with the stats. I love when you talk numbers to me.”

“I don’t think we’d have gotten very far if you didn’t.”

“But I think I should be right more often than that.”

“Are you asking me to fudge the numbers?” he asks with put-upon shock.

“I’m just saying, maybe you’ve got it wrong.”

“Oh, so you dare to challenge the accuracy of my eidetic memory? Or is it the statistics that you think I’ve calculated incorrectly?”

“This is affecting my score, isn’t it?”

“I’ll have to factor it in. You understand.”

You giggle, and Spencer starts to feel some warmth come back into him after too many days of stress, doubt, and destruction. He hadn’t been able to talk to you nearly as much as he wanted. And it was hard to talk to you on certain cases, to allow you to make him feel lighter when reality was so dark. When he felt so much weight on his shoulders, when he should be focusing on the profile and apprehending the unsub and… sometimes he just didn’t feel like he deserved to have that weight lifted by you, even for a little while.

“Spence?”

“Will you go inside?” he asks, his tone full of something like reverence for you. “Please?”

“If you insist,” you sigh, already opening the door.

“I do. I do insist, very forcefully.”

“I’m already inside with the door locked.”

“Man, I’m good.”

“Mmhm.”

“Going to bed?”

“Yeah. Will you talk to me for a few more minutes?” you ask, sliding under the covers. Spencer hears the slip of fabric as you pull them up over your shoulders, and it sharpens the ache he feels to be home with you already.

“I’ll talk to you for the rest of the night, if you want me to.”

“No, I don’t wanna keep you awake, too.”

“I probably won’t get much sleep regardless.”

“I don’t condone that,” you say, your frown evident in your voice.

“Noted,” he replies, though he sounds apologetic.

Four hours feels an eternity too long to wait. You miss Spencer, and you hate how tired he sounds. You want to fix things for him. You want to run your fingers through his hair til he falls asleep and you want to make sure his dreams are peaceful when he does.

“What do you wanna do when you’re back?” you ask, hoping that planning for it will make the time go faster.

“Oh, I’m taking a shower and getting right into bed. And you can’t make me get up.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m serious. Don’t ask me to do a single other thing cause I won’t do it.”

You laugh. “For the whole day?”

“Probably. And you better not go anywhere either. We could both use the rest.”

“Okay, rest day all day.”

“We can order Thai though. So we’ll get up for that. But even then, it’s just to sit on the couch.”

“Maybe the floor.”

“I will also accept floor,” he concedes, and then it occurs to him that you might’ve been asking because you want to do something with him. “Is there something you wanted to do the next day though?”

“Well... the saucer magnolias are blooming at the Smithsonian again.”

“Say no more.”

You sigh wistfully. “You’re my favorite boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

“Well, I should hope so,” he says, smiling. “You’re my favorite, too.”

“Aren’t I the only partner you’ve ever had?”

“Ha ha. I had a girlfriend in college.”

“Spencer, you were like sixteen in college.”

“I wasn’t sixteen the entire time,” you hear the eye roll in his voice, “I have three PhD’s, it took me a little while.”

“Well, who is this girl? Do I need to beat her up?” you joke.

“No,” he laughs. “You are my favorite, after all. She wasn’t very nice to me.”

“Okay… so you told me not to beat her up but then gave a reason why I should?”

“Please don’t beat up my ex-girlfriend. I do appreciate your violent impulses though.”

“Mm, okay. As long as you know I could.”

“Sure, angel. You’re very scary,” he placates.

You let out a little gremlin laugh.

“Oh, and you’re delirious,” he notes, an amused lilt to his tone.

“Delirious because I miss you,” you sing, dragging out the ‘you’.

“God, where did I even find a weirdo like you,” Spencer laughs.

“I found you. You attracted me with your peculiar aura and soulful eyes. Trapped me in your… fucking what’s-it-called. Tractor beam.”

“You know, the term tractor beam was actually coined by science fiction author E.E. Smith in 1931 as an updated version of his original term ‘attractor beam.’”

“Hmm, yup. You caught me in that.”

“Did you call my eyes soulful?” he asks, seemingly just processing that part.

“Oh, you don’t like my adjective choice? Next you’ll have a problem with me calling your aura peculiar.”

“I mean… I don’t know that I loved it.”

“Here he goes fishing for compliments,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side and creating a bunch of shuffling noise on the line. Spencer wrinkles his nose, holding the phone a little farther from his ear until he hears you speaking again. “Okay, your eyes are big and brown and beautiful and they contain a standard unremarkable amount of soul, and your aura is also really regular. Regular Reid, that’s what they call ya.”

He’s frowning, you can practically see it, but he’s also fighting off an amused smile. “Well, that one started off nice, at least.”

“God! You’re so difficult. My boyfriend is sooo difficult. Why don’t you come home to me first and then I’ll come up with some more adequate compliments?”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

The two of you talk for a little while longer, with you telling Spencer about the new coffee shop you’d tried out and how their lavender latte actually tastes like lavender, which is basically unheard of. Spencer tells you about the standoff between him and an all too curious roadrunner that he swears was trying to get into his motel room. Calling it a standoff is generous; the man got bullied by a bird.

You try not to laugh and end up unsuccessful, with Spencer insisting that you were taking sides and he was well and truly in danger, which only makes it funnier. His voice pitches up even as he tries to keep his volume low, and you argue that his energy is just so attractive that even the local wildlife are drawn to him.

“Don’t start,” he warns, overwhelming fondness in his voice.

You make Spencer tell you something boring to calm yourself down from the image you’ve conjured of him being chased by a roadrunner, which, in your exhausted state, is even funnier than it should be. He claims to regret confiding in you with this, but he knows he’d do it again just to hear you laugh.

Instead of telling you something boring, he recites some of the poems he’s memorized over the years. It works the way you’d intended, and you regret it when you have to stop him to tell him you’re falling asleep. He’s just a little smug about it.

“So, you’ll be home in four hours?” you ask, the start of your goodbyes.

“More like three now.”

“We made time go faster.”

“We did.”

“Will you try to get some sleep?”

“Fine. Only because you asked.”

You hum, victorious. “Goodnight. I love you.”

“And I love you.”

Hours later, just as the sun is beginning to change the hue of the sky from deep navy to a hazy cerulean glow, you feel your mattress shift underneath you. You’re barely awake, but still you register the scent of Spencer’s shower gel, fresh and sort of woodsy.

Half asleep, you shift to accommodate him, and he slips an arm around you as you lay your head on his chest. You wrap an arm around his torso and throw your leg over his hips, as close as you can possibly get without literally being on top of him.

You sigh, deep and relieved, and Spencer’s heart stutters.

“I missed this,” he chuckles, resting his cheek against the top of your head and wrapping his arms tighter around you. You just hum in response, the last of your energy before you’re pulled back under. Within minutes, Spencer is asleep too, and the two of you sleep through sunrise and into the afternoon.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #my fics #your honor im obsessed with him

1K notes · View notes

mahgyu · 9 months ago

Text

Thinking about Toji, who only realizes what he truly feels for you when he sees you happy with someone else.

Toji used to tell himself that you were just another woman he used for sex and nothing more. However, weeks turned into months, and even though he kept saying that you weren't anything special in his life, the situation was actually completely different.

You already spent more time in his small apartment than in your own. When he woke up in the morning, it wasn't with Megumi poking and asking him to prepare breakfast anymore because you promptly woke up before to do it. You did so much for them and never expected anything in return.

Speaking of Megumi, he also began to develop a strong bond with you. You always played together, watched movies, and you even helped with homework when you could. Megumi always looked at you with admiration, as if you were the mother figure he didn't even realize he needed. Toji might have displayed the facade of an unshakable man, but deep down, only he knew how much witnessing these domestic moments affected him.

But, in a way, Toji felt inadequate for you. He was just a troubled single father trying to stay alive, with a questionable job and a life that felt more like a rollercoaster. He looked at you and saw an incredible woman, full of life and potential, while he saw himself as someone who would only hold you back. You deserved more than just sex and a miserable life beside him.

Toji tried to end things by acting like a bad guy, a personality he always portrays to everyone but never before to you, behaving like a jerk so that you would hate him and feel nothing for him but contempt. He was cold, distant, and even cruel in his words. He knew he was hurting you, but it was the simplest way out.

He saw the pain in your eyes when you finally accepted his words and distanced yourself, leaving him alone with his regret and loneliness. Deep down, he hoped you would find someone better, someone who could give you everything he couldn't.

But as time passed, the pain of separation only grew in Toji. He tried to fill the void with more work, giving more attention to Megumi — who didn't make things easier by constantly asking why you had abandoned them. He even sought out other women for sexual satisfaction, but it didn't help. They weren't you; nothing could take you out of Toji's mind. He constantly wondered if he had made the right choice, if he had done what was best for both.

Months later, Toji saw you from afar, leaving a coffee shop, happy with another man. In one hand, a bouquet of your favorite flowers, and beside you, a well-dressed man, with neatly combed blond hair and a serene expression on his face as he briefly sealed his lips on yours. Toji's heart clenched in a way he had never felt before, seeing you smiling and radiant beside someone else made Toji realize how foolish he had been. He realized he had let slip away the best thing that had ever happened to him, all because of stubbornness and egocentrism.

At that moment, Toji realized that you were everything he had ever wanted, and that he had made the biggest mistake of his life by letting you go. He wished he could turn back time and fix his choices, but he knew he couldn't. All that was left for him was regret and the memory of the love he let slip away. He would never forgive himself.

I'll give a gift to whoever can guess who the other man I described at the end is ᵔ⤙ᵔ

I haven't fixed it yet so sorry for any mistakes.

ㅤㅤㅤ

2K notes · View notes

riizegasm · 2 months ago

Text

Impure Intentions || L. CY (Anton)

❀ pairing: chaebol heir!anton x rival!reader, implied fem!reader

❀ genre: enemies to lovers (but not really), fluff, suggestive

❀ word count: ~6.7k

❀ warnings: explicit language, mentions of dysfunctional families, one heated kiss scene

❀ summary: From the day you were born, all you ever heard was, “don’t fall in love with Anton Lee.” A better heir to a multimillion dollar conglomerate would follow their family’s advice. But you…not so much.

❀ a/n: sheesh, talk about writer’s block. This work has taken me so long and so much effort, but i'm very proud of how it turned out! It may have even helped me out of my slump. Also, please don’t judge me too hard. I know nothing about business and corporate families!!! As always, likes, reblogs, and replies are strongly encouraged. Happy reading!

Your head aches. The lights in the banquet hall are too bright and the clink of gilded silverware is too loud. Polite chatter buzzes around you like a pesky fly evading a swatter. The air is suffocating, overly stuffy with high end perfumes and colognes clouding the space. This is torture; the Lee family banquets always are.

It would be better if you could enjoy the food or engage with the various guests like everyone else does, but this is enemy territory. Your family had made it abundantly clear that this was not an event for fun, but rather for scoping out the competition. Lectures about a corporate acquisition going south and details about poor contracting simply entered in one ear and left via the other. You didn’t care why you had to be there. The knowledge of your forced attendance did enough to damper your mood, especially once you were hit with all of the rules around your presence.

Sit still, look pretty, smile politely, eavesdrop on any corporate plans, and don’t talk to Anton Lee.

You never understood your family’s obsession with keeping you away from him, the prized son and heir of the Lee empire. Everyone made sure to fill your mind with negative opinions and baseless rumors about the young man, as if to deter you from even giving him a chance. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice, however. You’ve never even seen the man, let alone had a conversation with him. Anton Lee was much more of a mythical being than he was a person, in your eyes. He was always whispered about, but never seen.

From what you gathered, he was around your age, tall, broad, and supposedly extremely handsome. He was known for his overly harsh demeanor, rumored to command a room with a simple word. His presence apparently spoke volumes, enough to speak to his blunt nature and bad intentions. It made sense, your parents would always say. After all, he is a Lee.

“Fix your face, honey,” your mother snaps with a forced smile. “You’ll give yourself wrinkles before you turn thirty if you keep scowling like that.”

It takes everything in you to fight an eye roll, biting back the string of expletives waiting on the tip of your tongue. “Sorry. I’m going to run to the powder room.”

You don’t bother to wait for her response before excusing yourself from the cocktail table, getting lost in the crowds of people as you head towards the bathroom. Away from your family, the air feels somewhat lighter, although it still reeks of entitlement. The throb in your head is insistent now, forcing you to escape to find relief.

You find yourself heading towards a set of grandiose double doors, hoping they will lead you anywhere but here. Luckily, your prayers are answered as you step through them onto a stone balcony. The crisp nighttime air does wonders to cool your heated skin, a slight breeze ruffling the loose fabric of your dress.

This is exactly what you needed, space and solace.

“Rough night?”

A soft voice makes you jump out of your skin, whipping your head around to find the source. Its owner leans up against the exterior wall, somewhat bathed in shadow. All you can make out is a glimmer of white teeth, reflecting the moonlight.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the figure apologizes, taking a small step forward into the light.

You feel your breath stutter in your chest as you take in the man. The first thing you notice is his sheer beauty, lips enticingly full and nose broad. His beauty is complemented by his tall stature, the height difference between you two becoming increasingly apparent as he approaches. Like this, bathed in the moonlight, it’s impossible not to notice the broadness of his shoulders and how they taper into a small waist. He fills out his all black suit beautifully, the garments clearly tailored to his every curve.

“Are you alright?” The man asks, stopping only a few feet away.

The concern in his tone is just enough to snap you out of your reverie.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just, um, needed some air.”

The man nods in understanding, leaning over to place his forearms against the balcony’s railing. You struggle not to eye the way his suit jacket stretches across an impossibly wide back. Instead, you mirror his stance, looking out at the beautiful gardens below, bathed in silvery moonlight. Just beyond the seemingly endless maze of hedges, you can make out what looks like a small lake, it’s surface rippling under the nighttime breeze.

“It can be stuffy in there,” the man says softly.

You find yourself hanging onto his every word, shocked that such a mild tone could come from such an intimidating man. “Yeah, it really can be.”

The man lets out a small chuckle, no doubt amused by your clear annoyance. “So I take it you’re not in the business.”

“No, I’m–,” you pause for a moment, not sure how much of your identity you should reveal to the stranger. “I’m related.”

He chuckles again, this time turning to look at you. “Hm, I guess I could say the same for me, then.”

A round of applause sounds from somewhere inside, and you curse under your breath, knowing your family will kill you for your absence. The man next to you seems unphased, as if he’s used to the party going on without him.

“I think I should get back.”

The man flashes you a smile, its brightness almost blinding in the dark. “That’s okay. It was nice chatting with you…”

“Y/N. And you are?”

“Anton,” he whispers. “I hope I can see you again, Y/N.”

An icy chill travels up your spine, momentarily freezing you in place. But you force yourself to remain composed, plastering a smile on your face. You silently thank your years of etiquette training and the countless social events you have had to smile for. With a slight nod of your head, you disappear back through the double doors, instantly choking on the scent of Chanel No. 5.

. . .

It’s easy to believe that your first encounter with Anton Lee would be your last, especially as the weeks pass without a single sign of him. It makes sense that he wouldn’t start making regular appearances at events after attending just once. He has managed to spend twenty years staying out of the spotlight, and you can’t imagine that changing now.

But, for some reason, you can’t help but search for him in the crowd of every gala or at the tables of any grandiose banquet.

He would be easy to spot, with his overwhelming height and dazzling smile. Maybe his honey brown hair would be slicked back off his forehead this time, or maybe it would hang in front of his eyes to conceal his bright gaze. You’re sure that he would still talk in that overly soft tone of his, somehow managing to command a room without a change in volume.

Even his absence begins to feel like a presence in and of itself, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. You tell yourself that it’s simple intrigue and nothing more. The first time you had ever laid eyes on your supposed family nemesis had been on a balcony bathed in the moonlight. Where had he been all these years?

More importantly, why had he disappeared again?

The question runs through your mind as you accept a flute of champagne from a waiter, eyes flitting around the charity dinner in hopes of spotting a specific someone. Somewhere near the front of the banquet hall, the Lee family is seated at a table with a few other wealthy families, but their oldest son is nowhere to be found.

You crane your neck to get a better look. Just to be sure, you tell yourself. But the contorting you force yourself to do has you leaning right back into a waiter, your elbow knocking into his empty tray. The sudden movement has your champagne flute slipping out of your grasp, icy bubbles splattering across your chest and down the front of your dress. You can practically feel the daggers that your mother is shooting you from across the table, always having scolded you about the embarrassment that comes along with being a klutz. Before she can part her lips to tell you off, you excuse yourself politely, dashing out to find a restroom to freshen up.

You let your heeled feet carry you through a maze of hallways, side stepping waiters and party guests as you move further and further away from the event space. It’s only when you travel down a flight of stairs that you find yourself a seemingly private restroom, briefly stepping inside to clean yourself up. No matter how much you dab at the stain in the center of your bust, the wine doesn’t seem to budge. You thank the heavens that it was champagne instead of a red, saving you some degree of embarrassment.

After a few minutes in the restroom, you find yourself wandering around, ending up in a much more secluded lounge space, equipped with a couple of couches surrounding a coffee table. You immediately collapse onto one, sighing as the ache in your feet finally lifts.

It’s only then that you feel your eyes begin to sting, a familiar rush of heat striking your face as a lump begins to form in your throat. The sticky sweet smell of champagne still clings to your body, your dress uncomfortable where the alcohol seeped into it. You’re sure that you look a mess, knowing that tear smudged makeup would be the last thing to complete your disheveled look.

“Another rough night?”

The soft rasp of a voice instantly has you perking up, breath caught in your throat as you take in the tall figure approaching you. His crisply pressed suit hugs his broad shoulders and cinches at an impossibly small waist. His lips are quirked upwards into a small smirk, clearly teasing. Something about it is enticing, setting off a stampede in your stomach.

“How could you tell?” You mumble, trying not to stare as Anton settles into a lounge chair across from you.

The man’s smirk just deepens. “Wild guess. What happened?”

“I spilled champagne on myself and now I look a mess.”

“You don’t,” Anton states, smirk dropping from his face. “You could never look bad.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “How would you even know that? You’ve only seen me twice.”

Anton chuckles, finally relaxing into the plush of his chair. His legs separate ever so slightly at the action, allowing you to admire his mile-long legs. It’s almost frustrating, how perfect he looks. You imagine that if anyone never looks bad, it’s him.

“I’ve seen you way more than twice, Y/N.”

The simple statement has you turning your eyes away from his figure, meeting his open gaze. He seems so casual, so unbothered, as if that one sentence hasn’t turned your world upside down.

“Wait, what?” You find yourself tripping over your words in the rush to get them out. “Wh-what do you mean you’ve seen me more than twice? I only met you the first time at that contracting dinner a few weeks ago.”

Anton chuckles again, cocking his head in a puppy-like manner. “Yeah, that was the first time we’ve met, but I’ve seen you so many times. You and your family have been at every major event since we were kids. How could I not see you?”

“But, I’ve never–,”

“I know,” Anton interrupts. “I like to stay outside or in whatever lounge areas I can find. These things always make me really anxious.”

Wow, you didn’t expect such an honest admission from a man of Anton’s status. If anything, his candor makes him much more attractive, as if he could get even more perfect.

“You know we’re supposed to hate each other?” He asks, a small smile making his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Apparently you’re my rival in the field, and I’m supposed to hate everything you say and do.”

Unfortunately, you know the feeling, causing you to let out a small giggle. “Oh trust me, I know. Do you, though?”

“Hate you?”

You nod, fighting a smile as Anton pretends to think.

“Nah,” he eventually answers. “My grandfather taught me from a very young age that I should never harbor negative feelings for beautiful women.”

The implication has heat rushing to your face, forcing you to struggle to keep your composure. “Well, my family has always told me that attractive men always have impure intentions.”

Anton chuckles, shaking his head slightly. He takes a beat before standing, letting his eyes rake over your still seated figure as he begins to retreat down the hallway. It’s impossible to decipher where the intensity of his gaze stems from. He eyes you as if he were hungry, trapping you against the couch with his stare alone.

“Then let me show you just how impure my intentions are.”

The man is gone with little more than a wink and a smile, leaving you with warm cheeks and the scent of champagne clouding your nose.

. . .

You’re surprised to see Anton as soon as the next event, only three weeks later. It’s a simple charity ball for some rare disease research, but for some reason, Anton has decided not to hide in the shadows for this event. It’s interesting to watch how despite his supposed anxiety, he is clearly in his element. He greets everyone kindly, shooting various guests a charming smile as he is introduced to them. His father looks proud of him, a hand kept clapped over his shoulder the entire time.

You wonder if he’s comfortable like this, with a blur of people and faces constantly passing by him. However, you are instantly snapped out of your wondering when a manicured hand grips your shoulder. The feeling of your mothers lips close to your ear sends a shiver down your spine, a perpetually bad omen.

“Straighten up,” she scolds. “We’re going over to talk to the Lees. Their son is making a public appearance at an event like this for the first time. No funny business.”

You would laugh if not for the uncomfortable way her nails dig into your shoulder. It forces you to instantly fall in line behind your father, taking a deep breath as you get closer to the Lees. What is only a few seconds feels like hours until you finally stand face to face with your supposed rival.

“Yoon Sang, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” your father greets, shaking the hands of the head of the Lee family.

He even leans in to place a friendly kiss on Mrs. Lee’s cheek. You find yourself standing frozen in place as the parents exchange greetings, unable to do anything but stare at the man before you. He sports his signature charming smile, mouth full of perfectly white teeth on display. Not for the first time, you feel your face grow warm.

“We thought it was about time for our Y/N to meet Anton. After all, they will be competitors when they take over the respective businesses, right?”

Your father’s comment snaps you back to attention. However, you are immediately distracted by the feeling of Anton’s large hand engulfing yours, his palm both warm and surprisingly soft to the touch. You have to glance upwards to meet his eyes, but it’s impossible to miss the amused glint in his stare.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I have heard so much about you.”

You force a smile on your face. “The pleasure is all mine.”

It’s easy to tune out the conversation after that, letting the adults blabber on while you reminisce about the feeling of Anton’s hand in yours. The man seems to be similarly distracted, clearly eyeing your figure. The silence between you speaks volumes, and you hope your parents are too deaf to hear it.

“We would love to have Anton over at our headquarters sometime,” your mother suggests, her piercing voice rising above the noise of the ball. “I’m sure Y/N would be happy to show him around!”

You don’t even have time to process the full body panic that begins to overcome you before Anton’s family is readily agreeing.

“I agree that it would be great for them to know the ins and outs of the business,” Mr. Lee replies with an overly saccharine smile. “We would love to have Y/N over for lunch at the estate as well. Who knows? Maybe they’ll find themselves to be friends.”

Your dad chuckles, obviously disgusted by the thought. “You’re so right. The two might even do a merger some day!”

As the group erupts into phony laughter, you feel the beginnings of a migraine tingling behind your left eye. Something about the cacophony of laughs and the dull classical music is making you ache, your stomach starting to swim with nausea. You dare a glance upward, fighting the pain that blooms in your head with the motion.

Anton’s gaze is bright where it meets yours, a soft smile poised on his full lips. His cheeks are dusted with a slight blush, clearly flustered by the implications. There’s a slight fidget in his fingers, twirling expensive rings as a means of soothing himself.

He’s cute, you realize, not for the first time.

It’s only after a few more moments that the families say goodbye, the Lees promising to send a lunch invitation soon. Anton shoots you another smile before he follows behind his family, suddenly looking small despite his large stature. You can’t help but smile as you watch his departure, suddenly realizing that your migraine has disappeared.

. . .

The Lee estate is just as gorgeous as you expected it to be, with tall stone gates and artfully placed landscaping. It looks impossibly large from where you’re seated in the car, causing nerves to begin to creep up your spine. You pass off the butterflies that begin to flutter in your core as obvious intimidation that comes with being on the property of your family’s biggest rivals. It surely has nothing to do with an overly soft voice, broad shoulders, and kind eyes.

“Remember,” your mother had told you before sending you off. “This is business. Reveal nothing and absorb everything. And most importantly, remember that Anton Lee is not your friend.”

You take a step out onto the perfectly paved driveway, surprised to already see someone standing by the door. Anton seems to perk up when you lock eyes, shooting you a polite smile. His wave betrays his excitement, though. You imagine that if he were a puppy, his tail would be wagging.

“Y/N, hey! I’m glad you actually came.”

“Please,” you shoot him a cheeky smile. “As if I could ever turn down an invitation from the Lee family.”

Anton lets out a slight groan. “Don’t remind me that this is ‘business.’”

“Well then what would you like for me to call it?”

Anton shrugs, turning to hold the front door open for you. It’s only when you pass through the threshold, Anton still standing behind you that he responds.

“A lunch date.” Before you have the chance to respond, Anton is shutting the door behind you both. “Come this way. Food’s on the patio.”

It takes a few turns down intricate hallways to get to a set of double doors that lead to the patio. As promised, there’s an assortment of sandwiches and salad laid out on a round table, two seats set across from each other. You would be impressed, if not for the even more stunning view that lay before you.

The patio looks out on sprawling gardens, tall bushes and blooming flowers swaying softly in the breeze. A little beyond the landscaping, a wooden dock leads out to a large pond, its greenish-blue water seemingly sparkling under the midday sun.

“Wow, this is beautiful,” you breathe out, unable to take your eyes off the sight before you.

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it? My parents have always had an affinity for water.”

You imagine that all of their properties have pools or lakes, much like this one. Meanwhile, your own family prefers the hustle and bustle of the concrete jungle, never expanding beyond brutalist modern penthouses in the tallest apartment buildings in the city. It must be nice, you imagine, to have a space that feels like a home and not just another office.

Eventually, the two of you sit, settling into a comfortable silence as you distribute food amongst yourselves. It’s quite amusing to watch Anton as he eats, clearly possessing the hunger of a growing young man while forcing himself to take small bites and practice the etiquette of an heir. You wonder if you look the same, so obviously restrained while you want to let loose, if only for a bit.

Despite the fact that you haven’t seen another person since you set foot in the Lee estate, you know that people must be somewhere. There are always eyes on you.

“I’m surprised that your family was so adamant about having me over,” you begin, settling back in your chair. “I thought I was the enemy.”

Anton smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well you know what they say. Keep the enemy close and all that.”

“Is that what you want to do? Keep me close?”

You know you’re treading in dangerous waters. All it would take is one word about the obvious flirting to Anton’s parents for you to become your family’s disgrace. You can practically see the headline now: Conglomerate Heiress Gets Rejected By Rivals’ Son. Your family would disown you. And yet, as color begins to flood Anton’s cheeks, you can’t find it within yourself to care.

“Yeah,” he says, voice coming out even softer than usual. “I think that is what I want to do.”

You duck your head, clearing your throat in an attempt to settle the flutter in your stomach. “I’d like that.”

A sudden interest in lunch leaves both of you munching away in silence. It’s peaceful, despite blushing cheeks and racing heartbeats. It allows you to realize that being around Anton is unlike being around anyone else in your family’s circle. Here, there’s no pressure to be prim and proper, no pressure to listen out for secret ins and outs of business.

It’s odd to find comfort in the one person who is supposed to bring you anything but. And yet, with the warmth of the sun on your face and the pleasant fullness in your belly, you’ve never felt more at home.

“You know,” Anton starts once you have both cleared your plates. “I think we’re supposed to be talking about business.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Can I be honest?”

Anton nods slightly, honey brown hair shifting across his forehead.

“The business is the last thing I want to talk about.”

Anton smiles. “Trust me, I feel the same way.”

There’s a beat of silence, the two of you content to simply sit as the breeze ruffles the flowers that dot the landscape. When Anton speaks again, you watch his mouth, noting the way that his lips hold the same hue of the red tulips in the nearby flower bed.

“Can I show you something?”

The simple question has your gaze flickering back upwards, trying to ignore the way your heart races when his eyes meet yours.

“Sure,” you whisper, words instantly carried away by the wind.

Following behind Anton through the grass proves to be harder than you imagined, his long legs allowing him to move with a grace and speed that is difficult to match. He leads you in between a maze of flower beds, bringing you deeper into the garden until you’re surrounded by tall hedges on either side. From here, it’s impossible to see the house, so you just continue to follow behind Anton. You find yourself eyeing the broadness of his shoulders and the way his shirt shifts across the muscles of his back as he walks. It’s hypnotizing, so much so that you don’t realize that you have arrived at your destination.

“This is my thinking spot,” Anton says with a little flutter of his arms, clearly trying to present the space to you.

The hedge maze has opened up to a small central pocket, not housing much except for a small fountain and a stone bench. Anton is quick to take a seat, motioning for you to occupy the space next to him. It’s a bit of a squeeze, putting you and Anton close enough that you can feel the heat of his skin on your own. You dig your nails into the stone of the bench, hoping that it will steel your nerves.

“I like to come out here when my parents get in my head about the business. It’s pretty peaceful.”

“Yeah,” you say softly, despite knowing that no one is within earshot. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it really is.”

There’s an airiness to Anton’s voice that has you turning to face him. You take in a sharp inhale when you notice that his eyes are already on you, the close proximity leaving your faces mere inches away from each other. The overwhelming rush of blood in your ears forces you to turn away, taking a deep breath to calm your thundering heartbeat.

“You take all the girls here?” You aim for teasing, but the slight break in your voice makes it err more on the side of desperation.

Anton shakes his head earnestly. “You’re the first person I’ve brought here who isn’t my family.”

The admission feels like a sucker punch to the gut. Except there’s no pain, just a rush of warmth that climbs up your throat like ivy. Anton is clearly surprised as well, his own words deepening the pretty flush that has taken hold on his cheeks. His bottom lip is trapped by his teeth, its plushness oh so enticing in the afternoon sun.

“Y-you know,” you stutter out, swallowing thickly before continuing. “When you said you had impure intentions, I thought you were joking.”

“I don’t think I could joke about how bad I want you.”

It should feel like a corny line. It should feel like something he says to all the girls. After all, he’s Anton Lee. He could get anyone he wanted at the drop of a hat. So why does it feel so real when he says it to you? Why does it feel like those words are meant for you, and only you?

Anton’s gravity is pulling you closer, allowing you to lean further into his space. You’re close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your face, coming out in gentle puffs that reveal just how fast his heart is racing. He has released his bottom lip by now, leaving it glossy with saliva. It’s impossible not to anticipate the smooth glide of it against your own.

A sudden vibration snaps you both out of your bubble, the two of you popping apart as if you were repelling magnets. It takes a few seconds for you to realize that the vibration is coming from your own phone, buzzing incessantly. You shoot Anton an apologetic look before stepping away to take the call.

“We need you back home,” your mother rushes from the other side of the line, not bothering to waste time greeting you. “Your father wants to hear about your business with the Lees before he heads to his strategy meeting in an hour.”

“But the Lee house is thirty minutes away!”

You can practically hear your mother’s eye roll over the phone. “Then you better get going.”

. . .

Business meeting, my house at 4pm?

The text comes as both a surprise and the most expected invitation in the world. In your flurry to leave his house the week before, you had made sure to leave the man with your number. In turn, he smiled wide, promising to invite you over for another “business meeting” soon.

Before you can inquire about how much business will actually be necessary to discuss, your phone buzzed again.

My parents just left for a business trip to Milan.

A flutter rushes through your stomach at the implications. It’s clear what that means, that the two of you will finally have a chance to act on your chemistry without the watchful eyes of competitive families. The two of you will finally get to exist as your own people, and not as rivals and heirs of major global conglomerates.

The thought alone has you spending extra time on your appearance as you get ready. You make sure your hair sits just right and that your lips are perfectly glossy before pulling on a swimsuit and heading over. You try your best to remain as still as possible during the entire ride there, knowing that nerves in combination with the late summer heat will be enough to set you aflame.

Your heart is slamming in your chest by the time you finally pull into Anton’s driveway. It’s accompanied by a soft flutter of affection when you spot Anton’s figure, waving at you from the doorway. The wide smile on his face alone is enough to melt you. But the relaxed fit of his muscle tee and the way his swim shorts sit low on his hips has your face flooding with heat.

He greets you with a tight hug when you cross the threshold into the house. You try not to swoon at the firm pressure of his arms around your torso, ignoring the heat of his bare skin on your own. Anton had never touched you before, not beyond a simple handshake exchanged in front of parents, always respectful to a fault. For the first time, you find yourself grateful for that fact, knowing that now that you’ve had a taste of his touch, you will forever be addicted.

“I’m so happy to see you,” Anton gushes. “My parents have been really getting on my nerves about business and competition lately.”

“So you decided to invite the competition over to chill?”

Anton smiles, cocking his head in a puppy-like manner. “No, I invited the competition over to swim!”

So that’s why he reminded you to wear a bathing suit mere minutes before you left for his house. It makes sense, from the minimal texts that the two of you exchanged. Anton was always excited about the balanced heat of late summer, citing it as the perfect time for a lakeside swim. You wouldn’t know, of course, never having the luxury of having a lake in your backyard.

“What about your staff?”

“I let everyone have the afternoon off,” Anton responds proudly before letting his smile sink into something softer, more private. “I just wanted us to have some time alone.”

The simple admission rings out loudly in the otherwise quiet house. It’s clear how badly Anton wants this, how bad he wants your company despite the taboo that comes with it. Unsurprisingly, you find yourself wanting it just as bad, if not more. You’ve never craved anyone’s presence the way you have craved Anton’s, despite him being the one person in the world that you supposedly need to keep your distance from.

A small nod on your end is enough for Anton’s smile to grow once again, pearly whites on full display as his eyes wrinkle at the corners. The sight alone has your heart beating a little harder in your chest, the minor flutter in your abdomen growing into a full stampede of emotions. The feeling only intensifies as Anton engulfs your hand in his, lacing your fingers together as he leads you out into the backyard.

The late afternoon sun sparkles against the water, illuminating everything in a blue-yellow glow. It’s the most captivating sight for miles, you’re sure, until Anton begins to take his shirt off. The way his muscles shift under his unblemished skin rivals the beautiful surface of the lake, sparkling in its own way. His shoulder blades dance across his back enticingly as he leans down to remove his socks and shoes.

He shoots you a smile over his shoulder before cannonballing right into the water.

It takes only a few seconds for the man to reemerge, slicking his honey brown hair off of his forehead. His biceps bulge with the movement before waving you into the water. It’s as clear of a signal as any, but you can’t help but hesitate, suddenly shy at the thought of stripping down to your bikini in the presence of such a man. But the delicate reflection of sunlight in his eyes and the easy smile on his face is enough to draw you in.

Before you know it, you’re discarding your clothes, taking a running head start to join Anton in the water.

Your skin is submerged in an icy chill, the water surprisingly cool for so late in the day. But soon the warmth of another body is nearing, making the cold that much more bearable. You resurface with a giggle, giddy from the feeling of swimming so long. Instantly, Anton is joining in, clearly happy seeing you filled with such glee.

“Fuck, it’s cold!” You exclaim, shrieking when Anton splashes a bit of water your way.

“It’ll get better,” Anton grins. “You just gotta keep swimming.”

It’s easy to do as told, letting your body relax as you continue to wade in the cool water. Eventually you let yourself fall into your back, feeling the contrast between the warm sun on your face and the cool water surrounding your body. It’s serene, allowing you to let your worries quite literally float away. However, the feeling of a chilled hand grazing your hip is enough to snap you out of your relaxation, scrambling to right yourself in panic.

“Sorry!” Anton chuckles. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just getting bored without you.”

“It’s okay,” you soothe, finding that the pace of your heart is beginning to quicken for an entirely different reason.

Anton looks especially beautiful like this, with his damp hair splayed messily across his head and drops of water dripping down his face. The sun has just begun to set, painting Anton’s skin with a beautiful golden hue. His eyes glisten just like the water, sunlight sparkling as it dances across the reflective surfaces. Like this, Anton seems so bright, so luminous, that hating him seems impossible.

“I’m really glad you came today,” Anton says, his voice dropping to that soft shy tone he always uses in the presence of others. “I’m glad to have someone who gets what it's like.”

You can’t resist the smile that begins to tug on the corners of your mouth. “You’re not just saying this to get my family’s business secrets?”

Anton huffs out a laugh. “No. I’m saying this because I really like you. I like spending time with you, even though I’m supposed to hate it.”

With every word, you find yourself drifting closer to the man, his hand remaining steady on your hip as you tread lightly. Despite the obvious effort to keep your head above water, you feel like you’re drowning. But the slick feeling of Anton’s skin against yours reminds you that you won’t drown. Anton won’t let you.

“I like you, too.”

The simple admission has Anton’s face flushing, the pretty rose color glistening orange in the light. It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful. You hate to dull his beauty in this moment, but you have to.

“But what about our families? It’s not like the two of us can ever be anything.”

Anton sighs, his face dropping with realization. “I know, but…is it crazy to say that I don’t care?”

The hand on your hip tightens, pulling you even closer into Anton’s space. It’s close enough that the two of you end up bumping knees every so often, constantly moving to keep yourselves afloat. Here, in his space, you can see the way that his lashes cast subtle shadows on his cheeks. It’s easy to count the few moles that pepper his face and neck, sitting stark upon unblemished skin.

When his eyes meet yours, it becomes clear what you wish to do. No, what you need to do.

“Anton,” you whisper. “What did you mean when you said you had impure intentions?”

The man moves to open his mouth, but before he can get the first syllable out, you cut him off.

“Don’t tell me,” you coo. “Show me.”

You would be lying if you said you never thought about the feeling of Anton’s plush lips on yours. In reality, you spent too many nights lying awake, thinking about the slick feel of his mouth on yours, of the way his large hands would feel clutching onto your body, of the feel of his soft brown strands underneath your fingertips.

But dreams never compare to the real thing.

Nothing could compare to the pure bliss of having Anton’s mouth slide against your own. He moves fervently, letting the kiss carry the twinge of desperation that you both have felt since you’ve met. It’s far from the polite way that you expected Anton Lee to kiss, but that makes it that much better.

His nose grazes your cheek as he tilts his head, angling himself to kiss you deeper. His tongue is warm as it eases its way into your mouth, the warmth a welcome contrast to the chill of the lake. The hand that was once grasping your hip travels down to your backside and thigh, lifting you up to wrap yourself around his waist. It’s improper, at the very least, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when Anton sighs softly into your mouth.

It feels like ages before the two of you part, chests heaving where they remain pressed together. You’re so close that you imagine that even water can’t exist between you two. Anton’s abdomen is solid where your core is pressed up against him, supporting your weight so that neither of you are at risk of sinking.

“That,” Anton whispers, “is what I meant by impure intentions.

You can’t help but giggle at the boy’s breathless tone, suddenly feeling giddy that you were the one to make him this way. You were the one to fluster the ever-perfect Anton Lee. It was you. It’s always been you.

“Our parents…” you mutter reflexively, your mind a war zone.

“Hey,” Anton coos, bringing a hand under your chin.

With just a gentle tilt, you meet his eyes, instantly getting lost in the way his gaze bores into yours. As if he can’t help himself, Anton leans in to place a quick peck on your lips. When you part, a soft whine escapes your lips, mourning the loss of your lover’s kiss.

“Y/N, we’ll figure it out. I won’t let this go south because of our parents.”

You nod nervously, trying your hardest to believe in the reassurance that Anton is trying to provide you. As if he could sense the residual nerves, Anton presses his lips against your forehead in a soft kiss. The sensation makes your eyes flutter shut, a content smile beginning to grown on your face. After a brief moment, Anton chuckles.

“Who knows?” He mutters. “Maybe our parents will get that merger after all.”

. . .

[8 years later]

BREAKING NEWS: Lee Enterprises and TOTAL, Inc. have announced a historic merger to form one mega-corporation. This announcement comes one year after CEO and President of Lee Enterprises, Anton Lee, and Chairperson of TOTAL, Inc., Y/N Y/L/N, announced their marriage. The new multinational conglomerate will be known as Lakeside, LLC, and is said to have a current stock value of over five billion dollars.

.FIN.

#anton imagines #riize imagines #riize #anton lee #riize fluff #riize smut #written in the stars

455 notes · View notes