#i love him for the things that make him boring to you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cressidagrey · 1 day ago

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White Horse - Chapter 3: May 2023

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.

Warnings and Notes:

Welcome to 8k of my waffling. Warnings: we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussion of toxic relationships in the past, also discussion of very toxic thoughts about intimacy, and discussion of past dubious consent, Max being a simp for his girl, ...I think that's it? If I missed something, let me know.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Text Conversation: Isabelle Leclerc & Max Verstappen

Isabelle: Hey, just a heads-up—it’s Mother’s Day this weekend.

Max: …Okay?

Isabelle: I always remind my brothers, or they forget. Thought I’d do the same for you.

Max: Thanks, I guess? But I ordered flowers and her favorite sweets three weeks ago.

Isabelle: …You what?

Max: Yeah. And a handwritten card.

Isabelle: THREE WEEKS AGO?

Max: Yes?

Isabelle: Do you understand how unfair this is??

Max: What do you mean?

Isabelle: You’re making every other man in my life look terrible.

Max: Maybe they should simply try harder.

Isabelle: You don’t get it. I usually have to remind them, nag them, and buy the gifts myself so they don’t show up empty-handed.

Max: Again. Not my problem.

Isabelle: You’re actually infuriating.

Max: Because I remembered a holiday in advance?

Isabelle: Because you remembered without me having to tell you!

Max: This is a weird thing to be mad about.

Isabelle: I’m not mad, I’m just—adjusting.

Max: To what?

Isabelle: To a boyfriend who actually does things without needing to be reminded?

Max: Well, get used to it.

Isabelle: I might cry.

Max: Please don’t, you’ll make me feel bad.

Isabelle: You should! For setting the bar so high I can never accept bare minimum effort again!

Max: Good. You deserve better.

***

Leclerc Sibling Group Chat

(Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles and Lorenzo)

Isabelle: Reminder—it’s Mother’s Day. Call Maman.

Charles: …Right.

Arthur: Oh. Yeah.

Lorenzo: Was just about to text about that.

Arthur: Did we get her a gift?

Isabelle: Her favorite flowers and the perfume she’s been wanting.

Charles: …We did?

Isabelle: Yes.

Arthur: Perfume? Again?

Lorenzo: Arthur.

Arthur: I’m just saying, it’s kind of boring.

Charles: Yeah, maybe we should’ve gotten something else?

Lorenzo: Like what?

Arthur: I don’t know. A handbag? A candle? Something a bit more exciting?

***

Instagram Post – @/isabelleleclerc

Comments:

@/charles_leclerc: Happy Mother’s Day to Maman! 💖

@/arthur_leclerc: Love you Maman! You’re the best 💐✨

@/lorenzo_leclerc: Happy Mother’s Day!

@/f1gossipqueen: Such a beautiful tribute, Isabelle! Happy Mother’s Day to Pascale 💐💖"

@/tifosi_in_monaco: Happy Mother’s Day! You’ve clearly been raised with so much love ❤️

@/trackside_tales: That’s the sweetest! Happy Mother’s Day to your beautiful mom ❤️

@/f1_ultimatefan: Your mom must be so proud of you! Wishing her the best Mother’s Day 💖

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Sophie Kumpen

Max: Hey Mom, just wanted to make sure the flowers arrived okay and that you liked them.

Sophie: Max, they are beautiful! 💐 Thank you so much for thinking of me. The flowers are stunning, and the sweets were a lovely touch, especially my favorites! The card... well, it made me tear up a bit. ❤️ You really didn’t have to.

Max: Of course I did. It’s Mother’s Day. 😊

Sophie: And I heard you bought something for Victoria too? She texted me already—said you got the exact bag she’d been eyeing for months? How did you even know that?

Max: She mentioned it once during Christmas when I was half asleep on the couch. Guess I wasn’t that asleep.

Max: She’s always there for me, so I thought I’d do something nice for her too.

Sophie: You’re becoming dangerously thoughtful. Should I be worried?

Max: I’m evolving.

Sophie: Speaking of evolving… How are things with your girlfriend?

Max: She’s…

Max: Honestly? She’s kind, and steady, and smart in this quiet way that gets me every time. She makes everything feel lighter. Even the hard parts.

Sophie: Max.

Max: What.

Sophie: That was almost romantic. Who are you and what have you done with my son?

Max: He’s still here. He’s just tired of being an emotionally constipated Dutchman.

Sophie: Well, I’m proud of you. I’m looking forward to meeting her one day. You deserve someone who makes you happy, Max. Just make sure you don’t wait too long to introduce her to me.

Max: Don’t worry, I’ll bring her home when the time’s right. But seriously, I’m just really happy with her.

Sophie: I can tell. Take care of her, Max. You’re both lucky to have each other.

Max: I will, Mom. Thanks. Love you.

Sophie: Love you too, Maxie.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: He just brought me coffee. Exactly how I like it. Without me even asking.

Emilie: …Okay?

Isabelle: He just knew.

Emilie: Isabelle, you’ve been together for over a month. Of course he knows how you take your coffee.

Isabelle: But I didn’t say anything. He just handed it to me and kissed my forehead like it was normal.

Emilie: Isabelle.

Isabelle: And now he’s sitting across from me, just existing all content and relaxed, and it’s weird.

Emilie: Oh my god.

Isabelle: Why is he so nice to me? Why does he just do things for me?

Emilie: BECAUSE HE LOVES YOU.

Isabelle: …but??

Emilie: No. No buts. You deserve this. This is what a relationship is supposed to feel like.

Isabelle: I know that logically. It’s just… I’ve never had this before.

Emilie: You mean, you’ve never been with someone who actually pays attention to you and treats you like you matter without you having to remind them?

Isabelle: …Yes.

Emilie: Yeah. I figured.

Isabelle: It just feels like I should be doing more.

Emilie: You don’t have to earn love, Isabelle. It’s not conditional. You don’t have to do something for him to treat you well.

Isabelle: But I want to do something for him too.

Emilie: That’s different. Wanting to give back because you love him, not because you feel like you owe him, is different.

Isabelle: …How do I stop feeling like I owe him?

Emilie: Time. And maybe letting yourself actually believe that you’re worth all of this without needing to repay it.

Isabelle: …I’m trying.

Emilie: I know. And so does he.

Isabelle: He just put my feet in his lap and started rubbing them like it’s nothing.

Emilie: And let me guess, your brain short-circuited again?

Isabelle: Yes.

Emilie: Good. Now shut up and let the man spoil you.

***

Max leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching as Isabelle sat on the floor of his apartment, completely lost in play with the cats. She didn’t even notice him.

Sassy was curled up in her lap, purring so loudly Max could hear it from across the room, while Jimmy was perched on the back of the couch, watching with sharp eyes as Isabelle dangled a feather toy just out of reach. She giggled when Jimmy finally pounced, batting at the toy with his paws, determined to “win.”

Max couldn’t help but smile.

There was something about watching her like this—soft, unguarded, completely comfortable—that made his chest ache in the best way. Isabelle, for all her quiet confidence and composed demeanor, had a way of melting around the cats. She whispered to them, scratched behind their ears just the way they liked, and let them nuzzle into her like they’d been hers all along.

Sassy stretched out in her lap, belly up, a clear sign of trust. Isabelle laughed, running her fingers through his fur. “You’re so spoiled,” she murmured.

“Wonder where they get that from,” Max teased.

Isabelle glanced up, startled, as if she’d forgotten he was even there. Her face warmed slightly, but she didn’t move, just kept stroking Sassy’s fur. “Not my fault they like me better,” she said, grinning.

Max huffed a laugh, pushing off the doorway and walking toward her. He crouched down beside her, reaching out to scratch behind Jimmy’s ears. “I think they just know you’re gonna spoil them rotten”

Isabelle playfully nudged him with her shoulder. “You say that like you’re not just as bad.”

Max didn’t argue—because she wasn’t wrong. He spoiled the cats, and now, without even realizing it, he was doing the same with her. Small things: the flowers he sent her, the extra blanket he made sure was always on his couch because he knew she liked to curl up with one, the way he always stocked her favorite tea.

Jimmy finally lost interest in the feather toy and instead padded over to Isabelle, rubbing his face against her arm. She smiled, scratching under his chin as he flopped dramatically onto her lap.

Max just sat there, watching.

His life had always been fast—races, flights, training, the never-ending cycle of the season. But this? Watching Isabelle on the floor of his apartment, surrounded by his cats, like she belonged there?

This was the kind of moment he wanted to hold on to.

***

Leclerc Sibling Group Chat

(Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles and Lorenzo)

Charles: Maman’s birthday is next week. What’s the plan?

Arthur: Same as last year?

Lorenzo: Dinner at her place?

Charles: Sounds good.

Arthur: What about a gift?

Lorenzo: Something nice.

Isabelle: I’ll figure it out.

Charles: Perfect.

***

Isabelle: Okay, everything is sorted. Dinner is handled, and I ordered her favorite cake. I also picked out a necklace for the gift.

Charles: Oh, great.

Arthur: Nice.

Charles: This was way easier than I expected.

Arthur: Yeah, that came together fast.

Lorenzo: Good teamwork.

***

Max hadn’t meant to look at her phone. It was just there, sitting on the coffee table, screen lighting up as another message from Lorenzo came in.

“Good teamwork,” it read.

Max frowned. Teamwork, his ass.

Isabelle, curled up at the other end of the couch, didn’t even react. She had a book in her lap, one of the cats purring against her side, completely unbothered.

“You planned the whole thing yourself,” Max said, still staring at her phone.

Isabelle sighed. “Max—”

“No, seriously,” he cut in, looking at her now. “You did all the work, and they don’t even realize it. They just said ‘Good teamwork’ like they did anything.”

She shrugged, turning a page. “That’s how it always is.”

Max narrowed his eyes. “And you’re just okay with that?”

“It’s easier if I do it.”

“That’s not the point.” He sat up, shifting so he was facing her properly. “They should see you, Isabelle. They should appreciate you.”

She didn’t answer. Her fingers absentmindedly scratched behind the cat’s ear.

Max exhaled sharply. “You know that’s not normal, right? They just expect you to handle everything, and you let them.”

She finally glanced up from her book. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” Max argued. “You deserve better than being the invisible one in your own family.”

She blinked at him, lips pressing together.

Max softened, reaching over to take the book from her hands and set it aside. Then he tugged her closer until she was against his chest, arms wrapped securely around her.

“I’m going to steal you away,” he murmured into her hair, “and never give you back.”

She huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “That’s dramatic.”

She still curled into him, holding on just as tightly.

Max pressed a kiss to the top of her head, resting his chin there for a moment. “I mean it,” he said, voice quieter now. “You don’t have to do everything for them.”

Isabelle sighed, her fingers curling slightly against his shirt. “If I don’t, no one will.”

“That’s not your problem.”

“It is my problem.” She pulled back slightly to look at him. “Because if I don’t, things don’t get done. And then—then it’s just easier if I handle it.”

Max studied her, eyes searching hers. It wasn’t just about their mother’s birthday, and they both knew it.

“How long have you been doing this?” he asked softly.

She hesitated. “Since I was a kid,” she admitted eventually. “Lorenzo was always busy, Arthur was younger, Charles had racing… Someone had to take care of things.”

Max exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening. “And no one ever thought to take care of you?”

Her expression flickered, something like surprise flashing across her face. She didn’t answer, but that was answer enough.

Max swore under his breath and pulled her back against him, wrapping his arms around her again. “That’s not how it’s supposed to be, schat.”

She didn’t say anything, just buried her face in his shoulder.

***

Text Conversation: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: So. That was… something.

Emilie: Oh no. What happened?

Isabelle: Max found out how my brothers treat me.

Emilie: Ohhhhhh shit.

Isabelle: Yeah.

Emilie: What did he do??

Isabelle: He got angry. Like, not just annoyed. Not his usual “ugh, Ferrari” face. Like actually angry.

Emilie: …Is it bad that I love that for you?

Isabelle: He kept pacing around, ranting about how they take me for granted, how they never prioritize me.

Isabelle: He was like, “You deserve better than being the invisible one in your own family.”

Emilie: Honestly? Valid.

Isabelle: And then he just—sighed and pulled me into a hug. And said, “That’s not how it’s supposed to be, schat.”

Emilie: Isabelle, I am going to CRY.

Emilie: You realize he’s ready to go to war for you, right?

Isabelle: For the first time in my life, I feel like someone’s actually on my side.

***

Text Conversation: Max Verstappen & Gianpiero Lambiase

Max: Do you ever just want to punch someone?

GP: I work with you. Weekly.

Max: I’m being serious.

GP: …Okay, who do I need to be concerned about?

Max: Isabelle’s brothers.

GP: Charles, Arthur and Lorenzo??

Max: Yes.

GP: What did they do?

Max: More like what they don’t do. They don’t appreciate anything she does for them, and barely acknowledge her unless they need something.

GP: That can’t be right. They seem close?

Max: No. They’re close with each other. Isabelle just gets ignored.

GP: …How bad are we talking?

Max: Bad. Their group chat is a constant barrage of stuff Isabelle does for them without so much as a thanks. Every year, she reminds them about their mother’s birthday, Mother’s Day, everything. Buys the gifts for them. They wouldn’t remember otherwise.

GP: That’s… actually insane.

Max: I know.

GP: Why does she still do all this for them?

Max: Because she loves them. And they don’t even see how much they take her for granted.

GP: …Okay, I get why you want to punch someone.

Max: Thank you.

GP: So what’s the plan? Because I assume you have one.

Max: I take care of her. Since they won’t.

GP: …Yeah, I think that’s a good plan.

Max: I know it is.

***

Text Conversation: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Max: Be honest. Was I ever a bad brother to you?

Victoria: …What? Where is this coming from?

Max: Just answer the question.

Victoria: No, Max. You were annoying, but you were never bad. Why?

Max: Because I just watched Isabelle’s brothers completely forget she existed. And I needed to know if I ever did that to you.

Victoria: …What did they do?

Max: Only notice her when they need something. She reminds them of every holiday, every important date, and then buys their gifts for them so they don’t look bad.

Victoria: You’re joking.

Max: I wish.

Victoria: That’s—what the hell?

Max: Yeah.

Victoria: Oh my god.

Max: So, again. Was I ever like that with you?

Victoria: No, Max. You and I fought, but you never made me feel like I wasn’t part of the family.

Max: Okay. Good.

Victoria: But seriously—how does she put up with that?

Max: Because she loves them. And she keeps hoping they’ll notice.

Victoria: …That’s heartbreaking.

Max: I know.

Victoria: What are you going to do?

Max: The same thing I’ve been doing since we got together. Make sure she never feels like that again.

Victoria: …You really love her, don’t you?

Max: Of course I do.

Victoria: No, I mean—not just in the way you say it. But in the way you see her when no one else does.

Max: She deserves to be seen.

Victoria: Yeah. She does.

Victoria: So, what’s the plan?

Max: Plan?

Victoria: You’re Max Verstappen. You don’t just sit back and let things happen. You’re already scheming. Spill.

Max: It’s not scheming. It’s just… making sure she gets everything they don’t give her.

Victoria: Which means?

Max: I remember her birthday. I get her gifts she actually likes. I make sure she knows she’s appreciated.

Victoria: That’s the bare minimum, Max.

Max: Yeah, well, they don’t even manage that.

Victoria: True.

Max: I just want her to know she’s not invisible. Not to me.

Victoria: She does. I promise you, she does.

Max: I hope so.

***

Isabelle Leclerc had never been so deeply, shamefully down bad.

She knew it the second she opened Instagram and was met with a carousel of Max’s sweaty, post-race pictures. His fireproofs clinging to his torso, curls damp against his forehead, jaw set in that sharp, focused way that made him look unfairly good. She scrolled further—pictures of him on the podium, champagne dripping down his neck, his Red Bull suit unzipped just enough to make her brain short-circuit.

She dropped her phone onto her chest, staring at the ceiling.

"I’m doomed," she muttered.

Sassy, Max’s cat, meowed from her place curled up on Isabelle’s stomach, completely unimpressed with her crisis. Jimmy was sprawled next to her, purring away, blissfully unaware that his owner’s girlfriend was currently struggling with an epiphany she hadn’t been ready for.

Because it wasn’t just that she found Max attractive. Of course she did—she had eyes. But this was the first time she’d ever felt like this. Like she actually wanted. Like she craved more than just stolen kisses and his hands warm on her waist.

And the worst part? Max wasn’t even here to do anything about it.

She groaned, throwing an arm over her face. "This is your fault," she told the cats. "If he hadn’t given me a key to come play with you, I wouldn’t be stuck here thinking about him."

Sassy let out another meow, clearly judging her.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: Where do I buy the best lingerie?

Emilie: …Excuse me???

Emilie: Are you finally planning to jump your ridiculously in love, multi-millionaire, world champion boyfriend??

Isabelle: …

Emilie: Isabelle.

Isabelle: I tried, okay?!

Emilie: What do you mean you tried??

Isabelle: I mean I tried but he wanted to take things slow!

Emilie: …You’re telling me that Max Verstappen—the man who drives at 300 km/h for fun—wanted to take things slow?!

Isabelle: YES.

Emilie: Are you sure he’s Dutch and not secretly Victorian??

Isabelle: Emilie.

Emilie: No, because I’m actually stunned. You’re telling me you’ve been together for two months, he’s madly in love with you, bought real estate just to see you more, and still hasn’t—

Isabelle: No.

Emilie: Isabelle.

Isabelle: He said he didn’t want me to think this was just about that. That he wanted to show me he was serious.

Emilie: That’s actually disgustingly romantic.

Isabelle: I know. But also, Emilie, I am going to combust.

Emilie: Oh, I am absolutely taking you shopping.

Emilie: We’re getting you the best lingerie. The kind that makes a man forget the concept of “taking things slow.”

Isabelle: I don’t want to pressure him.

Emilie: Isabelle, babe, I love you, but you could show up in a paper bag and he’d still be obsessed with you. This is just insurance.

Isabelle: Insurance??

Emilie: Yes. For when you inevitably break him.

Isabelle: …

Isabelle: That’s not how insurance works.

Emilie: It is in this scenario. Now, when are you free? We’re going shopping.

Isabelle: You’re way too excited about this.

Emilie: Because I am emotionally invested!! Do you have any idea how rare it is for a man to be this in love and still have the self-control of a monk??

Isabelle: I don’t know whether to be flattered or frustrated.

Emilie: You can be both! But mostly, you can be prepared. Because trust me, the moment he decides he’s ready, you need to be ready.

Isabelle: … I did buy silk sheets.

Emilie: YES, that’s my girl!! Now tell me, what’s Max’s favorite color on you?

Isabelle: Emerald green.

Emilie: Oh, we are going all out.

***

Instagram Story – @/isabelleleclerc

***

Isabelle hadn’t been this nervous in a long time.

Not during presentations, not in meetings, not even the time she accidentally spilled coffee on a potential client’s Hermès bag (it had been black, mercifully, and Max had made her laugh about it later).

But this? Standing in Max Verstappen’s bedroom, bathed in the soft golden glow of his bedside lamp, wearing lingerie she had stared at for weeks before buying? This made her heart hammer so loud she swore he could hear it.

She had planned this—carefully. She knew he was expecting her. She’d texted earlier, promised takeout and a quiet night. That part wasn’t a lie. But the bag of food now sat forgotten on the kitchen counter, and she stood in front of him wearing forest green lace and every ounce of courage she’d been hoarding since their first kiss.

Max didn’t speak.

He didn’t move.

Just stared at her, wide-eyed, lips parted slightly, like he’d forgotten how to function. And for a single, terrifying moment, she thought she’d misjudged everything.

“Say something,” she whispered, her voice far steadier than she felt, her fingers fiddling with the strap of the lingerie. “I’m starting to think this was a bad idea.”

But then—he moved.

In an instant, he crossed the room, hands warm as they settled on her waist, pulling her gently closer. His eyes met hers, and they were nothing short of reverent.

“Not a bad idea,” he said, low and rough. “A very, very good idea.”

Her breath left her in a shaky laugh, part relief, part giddy disbelief. Her hands found the front of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric like she needed something to anchor her.

“You like it?” she asked, her voice small now, almost teasing.

Max swallowed visibly, eyes roaming over her again like he still couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “Isabelle, I think my brain just stopped working.”

That earned a crooked smile from her, some of the nervousness melting into something bolder, flirtier. “That good, huh?”

Instead of answering, Max let his hands drift lower, tracing the curve of her hips, fingers skimming the sheer lace with maddening care. He looked like he was touching something precious. Something rare.

“You did this for me?” he asked, quieter this time. Like it surprised him.

She nodded, heart thudding. “Wanted to surprise you.”

He exhaled slowly, leaned in. Pressed a kiss to her forehead. Her temple. The edge of her mouth.

“You have no idea what you do to me.”

The words made something flutter and twist deep in her chest. She arched into him without meaning to, breath catching as his grip on her waist tightened just slightly.

“Then show me,” she whispered.

And the look he gave her after that? Wicked. Worshipful. Dangerous in the best possible way.

Max Verstappen had never turned down a challenge in his life. And from the way he kissed her next, Isabelle knew he wasn’t about to start now.

His mouth met hers with quiet intensity—no rush, no urgency, just the kind of kiss that made Isabelle feel like she was being memorised, piece by piece.

Max kissed her like the world had narrowed to her skin and the space between them.

And God, the way he touched her.

His hands were still firm on her waist, thumbs brushing gently along the edge of lace like he didn’t dare go further without permission, like she was something sacred—not because she was wearing lingerie, but because she was Isabelle.

He kissed the corner of her mouth, then lower, over her jaw, down the curve of her neck.

Isabelle let her eyes fall shut, a soft breath escaping her as her hands slid from his shirt to his shoulders, pulling him just a little closer.

“Still thinking this was a bad idea?” he murmured against her skin.

She let out a breathy laugh, fingers threading into the back of his hair. “No. Definitely not.”

Max pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her, his expression shifting from teasing to something quieter—like he was checking in, even without asking.

And it struck her again—how different this was from every other time she’d tried to be brave for someone. This wasn’t performance. This wasn’t her trying to prove she was enough.

With Max, she was.

“You okay?” he asked, quietly, sincerely.

She nodded, and that time, it felt real. “Yeah.”

“Good.” His hands moved to cradle her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks, his eyes never leaving hers. “Because I want to take my time with you.”

That sentence alone nearly undid her.

She didn’t respond with words—just kissed him again, deeper this time, letting herself lean into it, letting herself feel it.

It was slow. Gentle. Everything she’d dreamed of, and somehow… so much more.

Max kissed her like he had all the time in the world, like the moment mattered more than the destination. His hands slid across her skin like a question, never demanding, only asking. Always waiting. Always listening.

And Isabelle—Isabelle gave herself over to it. To him.

For a while.

Because this was different. Because Max made her feel safe. Because she wanted this.

But even as her body responded—arching into his touch, breath catching when his mouth dragged down her collarbone—something inside her began to unravel.

She didn’t notice it at first. Not really.

It started as a quiet overwhelm. The weight of his hands on her waist. The way he whispered her name like it meant something. The softness in his eyes, the care in every kiss.

He touched her like she was precious. Like she was the most important thing in the world.

And it broke her.

Because no one ever had. Not like this. Not without expectation. Not without making her feel like she had to be performative, or perfect, or grateful.

She gasped—not from pleasure, not from panic, but from the sudden ache of being held so gently.

And then the tears came.

At first, she didn’t realise she was crying. Just a strange heat behind her eyes, a tightness in her throat. She blinked hard and tried to breathe through it, tried to hold onto the moment.

But Max noticed. Of course he noticed.

His hands, which had been skimming her skin, froze. His brow creased, worry flickering across his face. “Schatje,” he murmured, voice impossibly soft. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head quickly, pressing her lips together, embarrassed. “Nothing.”

His thumb traced the curve of her cheek, catching the tear that slipped free anyway. “That doesn’t look like nothing.”

She swallowed hard. “I just…” A shaky breath. “I didn’t know it could feel like this.”

Max went impossibly still. His blue eyes searched hers, something flickering behind them—understanding, frustration, something else entirely. He exhaled slowly, then pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You deserve this,” he whispered. “All of it.”

Isabelle broke.

She curled into him, burying her face in his neck as his arms tightened around her, grounding her, holding her together.

No one had ever held her like this before. No one had ever made her feel like she wasn’t just something to take from.

But Max wasn’t like anyone else.

Max didn’t rush her. He didn’t push or pry. He just held her, one hand smoothing over her back, the other tangling gently in her hair as she clung to him.

Isabelle took slow, shaky breaths, letting herself settle, letting herself believe—that this wasn’t just desire, that Max didn’t just want her for a fleeting moment, that he was here because of her, all of her.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes were still damp, but the knot in her chest had loosened. She met his gaze hesitantly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Max frowned immediately. “Why?”

She let out a breathy, almost self-conscious laugh. “Because that’s not exactly what you expect when you bring your girlfriend to bed.”

His expression softened. “Isabelle,” he said, tilting her chin up so she had to look at him. “I don’t care how long this takes. I don’t care if we stop now or in ten minutes or in ten weeks.” His thumb brushed over her cheekbone. “I just want you.”

Something deep inside her cracked open.

Isabelle had spent so long being overlooked, taken for granted, expected to give without ever receiving. But Max didn’t expect anything from her. He just wanted her—whether she gave him pieces or the whole damn thing.

She swallowed hard. “I want this,” she said, and she meant it. She really meant it.

Max searched her face, his fingers tightening slightly on her skin. Then, slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers.

This kiss was different. It wasn’t urgent, wasn’t hurried. It was deep and consuming, felt like something more.

Isabelle melted into it, into him, into the warmth of his body and the way he touched her—carefully, reverently, like she was something to cherish.

And for the first time in her life, she let herself believe she was.

***

Text Conversation: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Emilie: So.

Emilie: I let you run off with a bag full of very expensive and very effective lingerie, and I have received zero updates.

Emilie: Isabelle.

Emilie: I am not a patient woman.

Isabelle: I genuinely don’t know how to process last night.

Emilie: …Good or bad?

Isabelle: I think I need therapy.

Emilie: Therapy???

Isabelle: Emilie, I thought sex was supposed to be uncomfortable. I thought it was normal. To just… grit my teeth and wait for it to be over. To pretend it was fine. To pretend I liked it.

Emilie: Isabelle.

Isabelle: I’m serious. I thought it was normal for it to be awkward and underwhelming, and that I just had to deal with it.

Emilie: …I suddenly have a burning need to hunt down every single one of your exes.

Isabelle: They didn’t care if I enjoyed it.

Emilie: …What do you mean?

Isabelle: I mean, it was always just about them. Their pleasure. Their satisfaction.

Isabelle: I was just a body.

Emilie: Oh my god.

Isabelle: It wasn’t just bad—it was awful. Sometimes painful. Almost always embarrassing.

Emilie: Belle.

Isabelle: I thought that was normal.

Emilie: You’re joking.

Isabelle: I used to fake it just to get it over with.

Emilie: What the actual fuck?!

Isabelle: Em…

Emilie: No, because I was expecting you to say like, oh, it was awkward. Or boring. But this?!

Isabelle: I just thought that’s how it was.

Emilie: IT’S NOT.

Isabelle: I know that now.

Emilie: Oh my god.

Isabelle: It was so different with Max.

Emilie: …Because he actually cares.

Isabelle: Yes. The first time I just…

Emilie: What happened?

Isabelle: I… broke down.

Emilie: Oh, Belle.

Isabelle: I just—panicked. Everything hit me at once.

Emilie: What did he do?

Isabelle: He stopped immediately. Held me. Told me we didn’t have to do anything, that he just wanted me to feel safe.

Emilie: Oh my god.

Isabelle: And then the next time…

Emilie: He remembered everything.

Isabelle: Every single thing I liked. What made me feel good. What made me feel wanted.

Emilie: Because he pays attention.

Isabelle: Exactly.

Emilie: That’s that racecraft in bed, huh?

Isabelle: Emilie.

Emilie: No, but think about it! The man lives to optimize performance. He knows how to read data, analyze conditions, adjust his approach for maximum efficiency—

Isabelle: STOP.

Emilie: No, because it’s true!

Isabelle: …I mean. You’re not wrong.

Emilie: I KNEW IT.

Isabelle: I hate you.

Emilie: No, you love me. But not as much as you love Max Verstappen blowing your mind every night.

Isabelle: I’M BLOCKING YOU.

Emilie: So tell me everything.

Isabelle: I already told you enough.

Emilie: Isabelle. You literally admitted that every guy before Max made sex feel like a chore, that you had to fake it, and that it was sometimes painful. And then, suddenly, Max comes in? You owe me details.

Isabelle: It was just… different. From the second he touched me, it was like he was paying attention to every single reaction, every little noise I made. I didn’t even have to say anything—he just knew.

Emilie: Oh my god.

Isabelle: And it wasn’t just physical. It was—I felt safe. I wasn’t just a body, I wasn’t just there to be used. He made me feel like I was the most important thing in the world to him.

Emilie: Belle.

Isabelle: I was so nervous at first. I wanted it to be good, I wanted to enjoy it, but I had all these bad experiences in my head, and I kept waiting for it to go wrong.

Emilie: But it didn’t?

Isabelle: No. Because Max—he’s so patient. Even when I got overwhelmed, he just slowed down and made sure I was okay.

Emilie: And then?

Isabelle: And then it was… mind-blowing.

Emilie: Define mind-blowing.

Isabelle: Emilie.

Emilie: I’m serious. Because I need to understand how we went from you faking it to you losing your mind completely.

Isabelle: …Okay.

Emilie: Yes.

Isabelle: So, you know how Max is in the car, right?

Emilie: Oh my god.

Isabelle: The way he reads conditions, the way he adapts in real time, the way he knows exactly when to push?

Emilie: STOP.

Isabelle: It’s the same.

Emilie: I KNEW IT.

Isabelle: I’m serious. He’s so in tune with everything, like he’s constantly adjusting, constantly making it better.

Emilie: He’s optimizing performance.

Isabelle: YES.

Emilie: Max Verstappen. Two-time World Champion. Fastest driver on track, fastest learner in bed.

Isabelle: I am not dignifying that with a response.

Emilie: But you’re not denying it.

Isabelle: …

Emilie: BELLE.

Isabelle: I didn’t even know it could feel like that.

Emilie: Wow.

Isabelle: Like, I thought those romance novels were lying. I thought all that passion and chemistry and overwhelming pleasure was just fake.

Emilie: But then you met Max Verstappen.

Isabelle: He’s just… so good to me. And not just in bed. He takes care of me, he makes me laugh, he listens to me. He actually sees me.

Emilie: I love that. But also, I need to understand the full scope of the dominance we’re dealing with here.

Isabelle: You sound like an F1 journalist trying to analyze Red Bull’s advantage in the regs.

Emilie: I am an F1 journalist trying to analyze Max Verstappen’s advantage in the bedroom.

Isabelle: …I hate that sentence.

Emilie: Okay, but is he like methodical with it? Like does he go in with a strategy?

Isabelle: Emilie.

Emilie: No, I need to know if he’s a precision driver or a send-it-and-hope-for-the-best kind of guy.

Isabelle: …He’s both.

Emilie: EXCUSE ME???

Isabelle: It’s like he’s calculating everything in real-time, but then when the moment’s right—he just commits. No hesitation. No second-guessing.

Emilie: So what I’m hearing is… late-braking masterclass.

Isabelle: I knew you were going to say that.

Emilie: AND I’M RIGHT.

Isabelle: He literally waits until the last possible second, and then it’s like—boom. You can’t react fast enough.

Emilie: So he takes the racing line and the perfect approach angle.

Emilie: I’m just saying, if he starts looking at data after, I’m going to scream.

Isabelle:

Isabelle: …He does kind of ask for feedback.

Emilie: STOP.

Isabelle: And then he actually remembers everything I like.

Emilie: You’re telling me Max Verstappen actively takes notes on how to ruin your life?

Isabelle: Pretty much.

Emilie: If he ever applies this level of dedication to anything else, we’re all doomed.

Isabelle: He already does. It’s called Formula 1.

Emilie: And now he’s doing it to you.

Emilie: I need a moment.

Isabelle: Take your time.

Emilie: …Actually, no, I don’t, because I need to ask the most important question.

Isabelle: Oh, no.

Emilie: How many times?

Isabelle: EMILIE.

Emilie: I NEED TO KNOW.

Isabelle: …four.

Emilie: FOUR?!?

Isabelle: I told you. Life-altering.

Emilie: Max Verstappen is out here setting lap records and you’re only telling me now??

Isabelle: Well, I wasn’t going to text you midway through.

Emilie: I AM SO HAPPY FOR YOU.

Isabelle: Thank you. So am I.

Emilie: Isabelle.

Isabelle: Emilie.

Emilie: Max Verstappen ruined you.

Isabelle: He rebuilt me.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter:

@/paddocktea: Isabelle Leclerc is my Roman Empire and here’s why:

@/paddocktea: People know her as Charles Leclerc’s baby sister, born right in the middle between him and Arthur.

@/paddocktea: But there is so much more to her…She’s the most overlooked yet most intriguing Leclerc sibling. She’s always there, always supporting, but somehow, she remains in the background.

@/paddocktea: And because it’s her 24th birthday today… Here is everything you need to know about Isabelle Leclerc.

@/paddocktea: While Arthur’s karting career was put on ice to fund Charles’ career, a lesser known fact is that the family also sold Isabelle’s childhood horse to help fund Charles’ racing.

@/paddocktea: They SOLD HER HORSE. HER. HORSE. To help fund Charles’ career. Like, imagine being 13, losing both your sport and your horse while your brother gets to keep racing. If I were her, I’d still be holding a grudge.

@/paddocktea: …but instead apparently it’s a throwaway line in the family lore that Charles has only ever mentioned once in an interview, while he has mentioned Arthur’s “sacrifice” multiple times.

@/paddocktea: Still, instead of causing drama, she put her head down and worked. She studied architecture while also being there for every major moment of her brothers’ careers. It wasn’t just about showing up to races—she was always supporting them.

@/paddocktea: The few times she does give interviews? It’s never about her. She just hypes up her brothers. Every single time. No complaints, no bitterness—just, "They work so hard, I’m really proud of them.” If I sacrificed as much as she did, I’d be insufferable, but she’s just so sweet and adores her brothers more than anything else.

@/paddocktea: Anyway, Isabelle Leclerc is the backbone of the Leclerc family, and I need people to start appreciating her.

↳@/paddockinsider: WAIT. They SOLD her horse to fund Charles’ career?! I did NOT know this. That’s actually insane.

↳@/formulatea: They really said ‘sorry girl, no more childhood joy for you, we gotta get Charles to F1’ 😭

↳@hoofbeatsandcheckeredflags: As a horse girl, I would NEVER forgive them. I would be bringing this up at every family dinner.

↳ @f1drama: No bc imagine your parents sitting you down like ‘hey, your brother needs to go fast so we’re getting rid of your best friend, hope you understand xx’

↳@f1archivist: How did this never make it into Drive to Survive?? Like hello, Netflix, this is PEAK drama.

↳@girlmathf1: They stole her childhood and she still shows up at races supporting them. Isabelle Leclerc is a better person than me fr.

↳@gossipinthepaddock: So you’re telling me Charles got a career and Arthur got a second chance at racing, while Isabelle got… character development???

***

Instagram Post – @/isabelleleclerc

Comments:

@/charles_leclerc: Happy 24th! 🎂

@/f1fashionista93: Happy birthday, Isabelle! You deserve all the happiness in the world. 💐✨

@/emilie_abadie: Happy birthday to my favorite human! You deserve the best year ahead—can’t wait to see what it has in store for you 💖"

@/leclercsquad_: Happy birthday, Isabelle! I can’t wait to see all the amazing things you do this year! 🎉💐

***

Her phone had buzzed all morning with Leclerc family group chat notifications—heart emojis from Arthur, a single “Joyeux anniversaire x” from Charles, Lorenzo asking if she’d gotten the spa voucher he emailed (“it expires in two months, so use it soon!”), and her mother’s text: “Hope you like the book. And the suit!”

The book was titled “How to Be More Assertive: Owning Your Voice in a Loud World.

The suit was black. Structured. Corporate.

Isabelle had never worn a pantsuit in her life. She barely wore pants, unless she was on a horse or doing pilates.

Arthur’s gift had arrived wrapped in glossy blue paper—inside was a heavy coffee table book about the history of golf.

Charles had sent an Amazon gift card.

She had smiled. Said thank you in the chat. Told herself they were trying. That they were busy. That this was just how birthdays went for her in her family—slightly impersonal, vaguely thoughtful, and always… a little off.

And it wasn’t like she needed more. Emilie had taken her out the evening before, dinner just the two of them, which had been lovely… and which had ended with a single chocolate cupcake with a lit candle that she had blown out with a huge grin on her face. The two of them had giggled like teenagers and ended up sharing it.

Emilie had given her a whole basket full of things, like she was always prone to be doing. It was stuffed full with Isabelle’s favourite things, from her favourite bar of chocolate, to her favourite soap, a new bottle of signature perfume (always Miss Dior), new workout clothing, because she had mentioned in an offhand way that the zipper on her favourite jacket kept opening up… filled with the kind of thoughtful little things that Emilie Abadie hoarded like the french dragon with expensive perfume and perfect eyeliner that she was.

Really, that basket more than made up for anything her family did.

And now, here she was sitting on the sofa a at Max’s place that evening, sipping her favourite wine in her favourite sweater, legs tucked under her.

She was happy. Completely and utterly content.

Max came in from the kitchen, a little grin tugging at his lips, something behind his back.

“Okay,” he said, “I know you said you didn’t want anything fancy…”

She narrowed her eyes. “Max.”

“But,” he continued, stepping closer, “you’re turning twenty-four, and that feels like it should come with something a little special.”

He pulled a small velvet box from behind his back.

Isabelle blinked. “Max—”

“Just open it,” he said, sitting beside her.

She opened the box slowly—and froze.

Inside was a bracelet.

Diamonds and Emeralds connected with delicate gold fixing. The emeralds were a deep, deep green.

The exact shade of green that lit her eyes when she was excited, or furious, or pretending not to cry during animal rescue commercials.

She didn’t speak.

Max leaned in, his voice softer now. “Emeralds. Because it’s your birthstone. And because every time I see your eyes in the sun, I think—how does that color even exist?”

Her breath caught. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did,” he said. “You’re the easiest person in the world to pay attention to, Belle.”

She bit her lip, suddenly blinking too fast. “It’s beautiful.”

He unclasped it, slid it gently onto her wrist, then lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.

“You deserve beautiful things. Not because it’s your birthday. Just because you’re you.”

Isabelle didn’t mean to tear up. She really didn’t.

But here was Max—watching her with that look like she mattered—giving her something not just expensive, but personal. Thoughtful. Kind.

She laughed through the tears, wiping at her face. “Sorry. I’m being ridiculous.”

“You’re not,” he said, pulling her into his chest. “You’re just not used to being seen properly. But I see you.”

“I love it,” she whispered. “It’s perfect.”

And she meant it.

Because it wasn’t about the bracelet.

It was the way he saw her.

The way he always did.

Not as the sister. Not as the quiet one.

Not as someone who needed a personality makeover or to be more “assertive.”

Just as Isabelle.

And for once—just once—that was more than enough.

***

Text Conversation: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: Max got me a bracelet.

Emilie: Of course he did.

Isabelle: Emilie. It’s emerald.

Isabelle: He said it’s my birthstone and that it matches my eyes.

Emilie: Isabelle, I need you to breathe.

Isabelle: I AM TRYING.

Emilie: This man is not just spoiling you; he is actively ruining you for anyone else.

Isabelle: Right???

Emilie: Send a picture. Now.

Isabelle: Attachment: photo.jpg

Emilie: Holy. Shit.

Emilie: That is not just a bracelet. That is a statement.

Isabelle: What statement?

Emilie: “You are mine, and I will give you the world.”

Isabelle: …

Emilie: You’re staring at it right now, aren’t you?

Isabelle: I haven’t taken my eyes off it since he clasped it onto my wrist.

Emilie: Isabelle.

Isabelle: Emilie.

Emilie: How are you still alive?

Isabelle: Unclear. Might be running purely on shock at this point.

Emilie: I warned you. I told you he was in deep.

Isabelle: I didn’t think this deep.

Emilie: Oh, honey. He is drowning.

Isabelle: What am I supposed to do with this??

Emilie: Love him back. That’s literally all he wants.

Isabelle: …I already do.

***

Text Conversation: Max Verstappen & Emilie Abadie

Max: I thought you were joking.

Emilie: Oh, Max. I wish I was.

Max: Arthur really got her a coffee table book about golf.

Emilie: She doesn’t even like golf.

Max: EXACTLY.

Emilie: I’m convinced he just panic-bought it at the airport.

Max: And Charles… a generic Amazon gift card.

Emilie: Isabelle literally used last year’s gift card to buy presents for other people because she didn’t even want anything from Amazon.

Max: I actually feel secondhand embarrassment.

Emilie: Welcome to my world.

Max: Lorenzo got her a Spa Voucher with only 2 months left on it. I am pretty sure that was a gift he once got.

Emilie: That’s still better than the self help book her mother bought her “How to be more assertive”. (I mean I guess she tried, she did buy her that new pantsuit…just that Isabelle has never worn a pantsuit in her life. She never wears pants, AT ALL, unless she works out or is at the stables.)

Max: I— No. I need to sit down.

Emilie: Oh, don’t worry, Max. She’s used to it. That’s what makes it worse.

Max: That’s actually depressing.

Emilie: Right?? I feel like I’m the only one who actually pays attention.

Max: I feel like I need to apologize on their behalf.

Emilie: Oh, you’ve already done enough. You got her a bracelet with emeralds to match her eyes.

Max: That’s just normal? It’s not hard?

Emilie: Max, you put more thought into one gift than her family has in a decade.

Max: Good. She deserves better.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Victoria: So… still in love?

Max: More every day.

Victoria: You’re such a sap.

Max: You asked.

Victoria: I did. Because I knew you’d say something like that.

Max: And yet, here you are, pretending to be surprised.

Victoria: Not surprised, just entertained.

Max: Glad my happiness is amusing to you.

Victoria: Oh, it is. You’re actually just gone.

Max: I know.

Victoria: And you’re fine with that?

Max: More than fine. Best thing that’s ever happened to me.

Victoria: …Wow.

Max: What?

Victoria: Nothing. Just… I’ve never seen you like this.

Max: Me neither. But I don’t want it to stop.

Victoria: Then don’t.

Max: I won’t.

Victoria: Good.

Max: …You’re being suspiciously nice.

Victoria: I can be supportive, you know.

Max: Yeah, but usually there’s teasing first.

Victoria: True. But I don’t think I need to say anything. You’re already completely and utterly done for.

Max: Not wrong.

Victoria: So, when do I get to hear about the inevitable dumb thing you’ll do to impress her?

Max: What makes you think I’ll do something dumb?

Victoria: Max. You bought an entire penthouse just to work with her.

Max: …That’s not dumb. That’s practical.

Victoria: Sure, sure. Practical.

Max: It is! I needed a new place anyway. And I have great taste.

Victoria: She has great taste. You just followed her lead.

Max: …Still counts.

Victoria: Sooo, can I follow your mysterious girlfriend on Instagram yet, or is she still top secret?

Max: …

Victoria: Max. It’s been two months.

Max: And?

Victoria: And I want to know who she is! Give me something. A name? A clue? Anything?

Max: Isabelle.

Victoria: Isabelle what?

Max: …Leclerc.

Victoria:

Victoria: HOLD ON.

Victoria: As in Leclerc-Leclerc?? Like, Charles Leclerc???

Max: Yes.

Victoria: AS IN HIS QUIET LITTLE SISTER FROM KARTING???

Max: Yeah.

Victoria: OH MY GOD.

Victoria: I remember her! She was always at the races! Super quiet, always watching.

Max: That’s her.

Victoria: AWWWW. MAX.

Max: What?

Victoria: She’s perfect for you! She was always so sweet!

Max: …Thanks?

Victoria: Does Charles know??

Max: No.

Victoria: Max.

Max: Isabelle wants to keep it private.

Victoria: But why??

Max: Her family… it’s complicated.

Victoria: What do you mean? The Leclercs are like, the most wholesome F1 family ever.

Max: Her brothers are close with each other. She just…exists in their periphery and is forgotten 90% of the time.

Victoria: Max, that’s awful.

Max: I know.

Victoria: And they still don’t know you’re together?

Max: Nope.

Victoria: You haven’t told Charles??

Max: Isabelle doesn’t want them to know.

Victoria: I mean, I get it, but… that’s really sad.

Max: Yeah.

Victoria: But you make her happy?

Max: I try.

Victoria: Good.

Victoria: But just so you know, when this does come out, Charles might actually explode.

Max: I know.

589 notes · View notes

secretlyazombi3 · 2 days ago

Text

let's get in the back of your cop car, officer .ᐟ₊˚⊹♡

leon kennedy x afab! reader

๋࣭ ⭑⚝word count: 2.2k ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ NSFW, 2nd person, some fluff obvi ^_^, established relationship, re2r leon, subby leon kinda, unprotected (pls don't do that), riding, oral (m receiving)

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ summary: You stop by to visit your boyfriend in his cop car during one of his nightshift patrols :3

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ a/n: uhhh i normally dont write stuff like this bc its not my thing, but oh my god my period has me FERAL man its not funny 😭😭 not proof read im too lazy ! also how do ppl write this without giggling lmao

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.” Leon said as he rolled the window down as you patiently stood outside his police car.

“You’re so jumpy.” you replied as Leon glanced around the parking lot anxiously. You knew Leon’s habits, you knew he always stopped at this gas station near your apartment before a night shift. “It’s midnight, forgive me for not expecting someone to knock on my car window.” Leon mumbled as he looked back at you.

You wrapped your hand around the door handle and pulled it open, not caring to ask for an invitation into Leon’s car. He was your boyfriend after all, so why bother asking. “Hey, you can’t just-” Leon stuttered as you entered his car and sat down in the passenger’s seat suddenly.

Leon glanced around the parking lot again. “You-you can’t just jump in my car like that, I’m at work, I’m on duty… It’s unprofessional.” Leon stuttered out.

You looked out the car window and analyzed the gas station parking lot - it was empty, obviously, there was clearly not much demand to get gas at such late hours.

“Nobody saw me get in, you’re fine.” You told Leon as you turned your head back to gaze at him.

“I’m still on duty! I can’t let just anyone come in my car, I.. I need to focus on patrolling.” Leon protested. “Well, I’m not ‘just anyone’, am I?” you replied, batting your eyes at Leon and giving him big puppy eyes you knew he couldn’t resist.

Leon didn’t reply, simply staring at you, hesitating before beginning to drive the car out of the parking lot.

“You’re so stubborn,” Leon mumbled as he drove away from the gas station. “You’re going to get me in trouble.”

“Only if we get caught. We just won’t get caught.” you replied as you looked out the window.

Leon mumbled something incoherently, he furrowed his eyebrows as he continued to drive down a nearby highway, still pretending to be upset at you for forcefully joining him for a ride.

“I just wanted to bring you some company, must be lonely driving all alone at night for hours.” you said quietly before you placed your hand on Leon’s thigh. Leon stopped mumbling and his expression reluctantly softened. He loved physical affection.

Truthfully, he did get lonely on his shifts. It was painfully boring to just drive around the highway, park on the side of the road and keep an eye out for anything suspicious or any speeding. He didn’t mind you being here with him, he truly needed the company or else he’d go insane one of these nights.

Leon pulled over onto the side of the road and parked where he normally parked when he patrolled this highway specifically. It was dark out and a pretty lifeless side of town, there were barely any cars driving down the road. The streetlight Leon parked under was old and the light flickered every so often.

“You just do this all night? Sit in your car all alone?” You asked Leon, sounding a bit shocked.

Leon shyly nodded and shrugged. “I mean, yeah…”.

“I should really come visit you more often, then. You must be so bored.” you replied.

“I-I can’t just hang out with you on my job.” “It’s not like you’re doing anything urgent. You just sit here all night. Nobody will know.” Your hand went up Leon’s thigh. “I can make your night more interesting, you know…” “Stop..!” Leon said, a twinge of whininess in his voice, clearly embarrassed. “That’s so unprofessional.” Leon added, his face turning a bit redder than normal as he desperately prayed you didn’t notice the twitching in his pants.

“You’re such a rule follower.” You replied as you finally pulled your hand off of Leon’s thigh.

Your gaze shifted from Leon to out the windshield. “The sky’s so pretty tonight.” you said as you looked up at the moon. It was a full moon tonight, the moon was resting in the sky just above where Leon had parked his police car.

“At least you get to look at the sky every night.” you spoke softly, glancing back over at Leon. Leon was gazing up at the stars for a few moments before turning his attention to you.

“It’s not as pretty as you.” he said quietly. You smiled - it was cheesy, but it was cute. Leon’s pink blushing face made it better.

“Shut up,” you replied as you noticed Leon leaning in a bit closer to you with a soft expression.

You sat there for a moment, analyzing Leon’s pretty face, memorizing each mole on him before you allowed yourself to be pulled in by him for a kiss.

You placed your hand on the side of Leon’s face as you kissed and used your other hand to take off your seatbelt so you could lean further into the kiss without being restrained.

Leon pulled away for a second for air and quietly mumbled your name in a breathy voice. His hand rested on your cheek, he gently rubbed his thumb against your skin. “You’re so pretty, so fucking pretty…” he whispered gently to you.

You glanced down and finally noticed the bulge in Leon’s pants. “Oh, Leon..” you whispered.

Leon looked away, seemingly embarrassed that he’d gotten hard over nothing, over a simple kiss. “It’s nothing.” he mumbled.

“No, baby, let me help you.” You insisted as your hand moved to his zipper, slowly unzipping his pants.

Leon was breathing a little harder as he watched you. “I-I shouldn’t be doing this.” he breathed as he felt you slowly slide down the fabric of his boxers, letting his hard cock free.

“It’s okay, baby, nobody’s on the road anyways.” you assured him as you moved your hand to gently rub him raw, which immediately made him tense up. You spat on his dick to lubricate it before continuing to stroke him, feeling him twitch against your palm.

“I guess so,” he replied.

“Is it okay if I…?” you asked as you eyed his cock. Leon bit his lip a little, getting more aroused seeing your pretty face so close to his cock. He nodded. “Mhm, yeah, go ahead.” he replied.

You parted your lips and wrapped them around the tip of his cock, which was glistening under the moonlight after he had begun to leak some precum. His face was flushed, he was embarrassed that he was so easy. One kiss was enough to give him a boner.

“Mph..” you moaned quietly, the sound slightly muffled by Leon’s dick being stuffed in your mouth, as you slowly began to lower your head.

“Ah, fuck..” Leon moaned as he leaned his head back, feeling you begin to take his cock deeper, feeling the tip prod at the back of your throat.

“So good, so good for me…” Leon whispered breathily as he gently brushed his fingers through your hair. He tried to keep himself calm and collected, he tried his hardest to keep himself under control but he just couldn’t.

He gently gripped on your hair and tugged it, pulling you down, forcing your head up and down. Leon grunted as he felt you swirling your tongue around his length as he continued to force you up and down, nearly choking on his dick.

Leon rolled his head back, turning into a whining and whimpering mess as you continued suckling on his dick. He couldn’t help but begin gently thrusting against your face, face fucking you.

He eventually managed to control himself and he stopped the movement of his hips. You rested for a moment, dick fully down your throat, your nose resting on his happy trail. Leon finally calmed himself down, still whimpering as he felt you remove your mouth from his cock.

“Baby, fuck..” Leon whimpered as he felt his cock, now wet from your saliva, touch the cold air of the cop car. You pulled Leon in for another kiss and began to rub him again. You flicked your thumb over his tip, which was dripping precum at this point. Leon could taste his skin on your tongue as you two kissed.

“Let me ride you.” you whispered between kisses as Leon whimpered from the pleasure of your hand around his length.

Leon nodded. “Do whatever you want to me…” he whispered. He leaned back in his seat, reclining it to give you some more room as you straddled him after slipping off your pants and your soaked panties.

“Leon..” You whispered as you rubbed his tip against your entrance. You slowly grind your hips down, you enjoyed watching Leon’s reaction as he slowly entered you. His mouth never closed, his lips stayed parted as he slowly pushed his cock inside you. “Ah- ah..! Fuck, you’re….you’re so fucking tight…” Leon moaned as he watched you begin to slowly move up and down, riding him slowly as he held your hips. Leon’s thighs were trembling at this point, he was overwhelmed with pleasure.

Leon slid his hands up your body, pushing your shirt and bra up so he could see your tits. Leon was completely infatuated with your body, you could tell by the look in his eyes.

He was still whimpering and moaning the entire time you rode him. Leon couldn’t help it, he was really noisy in bed, and he couldn’t help but moan like a whore every time his sensitive dick got the slightest friction.

Leon groped your chest after watching it bounce with each movement for a while, playing with your chest as you continued moving up and down on his cock.

“Fuck, Leon…” you breathed as you felt him rub his thumb against your nipple. You felt the tip of Leon’s dick slam against the spongy spot inside you that filled your body with pleasure. Leon clearly knew he’d found your spot by the way you gasped.

“That feel good there…?” Leon asked, looking up at you through his eyelashes, his eyes half-lidded as he tried to keep them open.

You desperately nodded as you felt Leon begin to thrust his hips upward, repeatedly slamming the head of his cock deep inside you, stimulating that spot. “Good boy…” you breathed before pulling Leon into another kiss. Being called that caused Leon to involuntarily thrust his hips harder into you. He loved being called that.

Your hands traveled up Leon’s shirt, you felt on Leon’s abs as Leon gasped for air between each and every kiss. He was clearly getting closer and closer. Leon glanced up at you once you pulled away from another kiss, watching you bounce on his cock as he rolled his head back again, this time letting his eyes shut as he continued whimpering.

“Baby,” Leon breathed as he continued thrusting his hips upward involuntarily. Leon gripped your hips tightly, digging his nails into your skin as he whimpered.

“..’m gonna come, gonna come…” Leon whined between breaths. “Shh, I got you,” You cooed in response, placing your hand on his cheek as he rested back. Leon moved his hand down to rub his thumb against your clit in a circular motion without you even needing to tell him.

“Fuck, good boy, such a good boy, Leon…” you breathed. Leon whimpered as he desperately thrusted his hips into you, pounding your pussy as you pulled him in for another kiss. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna fucking come…” Leon whined between kisses.

Leon wrapped his arm around you tightly as he came deep inside you, his cock twitching inside you as your walls suffocated him. You slid your tongue past Leon’s lips as you felt yourself reach your orgasm as Leon desperately rubbed your clit. You moaned desperately into the kiss as you came, hugging Leon tightly back.

You pulled away for air after the kiss. Leon was still a whimpering mess after coming. Leon’s eyes were still shut as he rested back, desperately gasping for air as if he’d been underwater for hours.

You slowly pulled yourself off of his lap, your pussy leaking his cum as you scrambled to put your panties back on, not wanting to leak cum all over the inside of his cop car.

Leon was a panting mess, his dick raw and sensitive after cumming. He was leaning back with his eyes clenched shut, his tongue involuntarily hanging out like a dog.

“Good puppy.” you whispered to Leon as you kissed his cheek.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Leon was resting against the window, sleeping peacefully until you poked his cheeks. “Leon.” you said softly, your tone slightly sing-songy as if you were trying to wake a toddler. The sun was beginning to rise in the distance.

“Huh…?” Leon mumbled sleepily, his eyes fluttering open and shut. “Come on officer, your shift ends soon.” you told Leon. Leon rubbed his eyes before glancing around.

“Shit, you’re right.” he replied as he pulled his seatbelt back on. He always got sleepy after cumming, he had been knocked out for hours now. His face was bright red, not only embarrassed that he’d fallen asleep but he was also thinking about what you two had done only a few hours earlier. “Can’t believe you fell asleep on the job Leon, that’s so unprofessional.” you teased him as he slowly drove back onto the highway.

“Shut up…” Leon mumbled shyly, avoiding your gaze.

#resident evil #fanfiction #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #{¬ºཀ°}¬ z writes ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ #fluff #one shot #smut #resident evil smut #leon kennedy smut

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itsraceweekbitches · 2 days ago

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JUST HOW FAKE ARE WE?

summary: Your so-far-successful fake relationship with Max takes a different turn in Monaco. But how far will things go eventually? ✤ pairing: Max Verstappen x reader ✤ wc: 3.2k ✤ tags: fem!reader, marriage talks, fake relationship, teenage crush, excited-puppy-in-love!Max ✤ note I'm a goddamn idiot who deleted it, so here's the repost.

[march 2025 – australian grand prix]

The media is having a field day with your suddenly revealed relationship with Max, who seems to enjoy this show a little too much. I’m bored, it’s fun, and it’s absolutely no big deal, he said.

And he clearly means it, because he doesn’t let go of your hand when you’re walking down the paddock together for the first time on Saturday, and he always makes sure he has a hand on your body, or places a kiss on your cheek whenever there are cameras around.

The inevitable happens shortly before qualifying, when the first article about the two of you is published on a well-known gossip site. And then comes another. And another. Followed by social media posts and video edits by fans. The fans are obsessed with this turn of events.

Some immediately catch on, stating that there is no way this relationship is real, that it’s nothing more but a decoy. They’re right, of course, but lucky for you, there are many more fans who believe the lie. Some even uncovered a few photos from the boys’ karting days, ones where you and Max can be seen together talking, laughing, and even hugging.

Charles has been apologizing non-stop, telling you he feels guilty since the press got the conversation from his account, and he even believes he shouldn’t have joked about it at all.

Now Max is attending an emergency meeting to discuss how to handle the situation, while you’re hiding in his driver room, talking to Charles who has already returned from his own emergency meeting.

“It’s not the end of the world,” Charles tells you during your video call, although you can see the doubt in his green eyes.

With a groan, you lean back on the bed, but you can’t calm down, you can’t think clearly, not when your brain is in overdrive by the fact the whole room—and especially the pillow—smells like Max. You’re not used to being surrounded by this scent, and it feels like you’re invading his personal space.

And the decorations keep reminding you that you’re not at Ferrari anymore, that this is uncharted territory, something you know nothing about yet. Sure, you will have to get familiar with things here, but you are still feeling out of place.

“I know it’s not the end of the world,” you finally speak up, “but now we dragged Max into this, and—”

“Hey, no, no, no, he volunteered. We didn’t hold him at gunpoint.”

You roll your eyes, then give him a look that immediately silences him, and his lips are pressed into a thin line as he forces himself not to go on. You’ve known Charles literally your whole life, you know each other like you weren’t just best friends, but siblings who are stuck together.

“I’m just worried he’ll get into trouble because of me. You should have seen the faces when I showed up in Red Bull territory this morning,” you note with a grimace.

The most shocking moment was running into Christian, who watched you with narrowed eyes, as if he was thinking about what ulterior motive you had. If he only knew the truth…

On the other side of the line, Charles lets out a heartfelt laugh. “You as a corporate spy… Nah, you would suck at that,” he points out, then takes a deep breath. “Look, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Here you go again, he’s apologizing once more, and probably not for the last time. You wish you could go over to him and give him a big hug, then play video games until you both fall asleep. Like in the good old days.

After shaking your head, you sit up and lean your back against the wall behind you. “Charles, it’s not your fault. And I could never be mad at you, you know that.”

You want to go on, just to make sure he understands that there’s no reason to blame himself, but you’re interrupted all of a sudden.

“Honey, I’m home,” you hear Max’s familiar, cheerful voice from the door when he enters the room. “Oh, I didn’t know you were talking to someone,” he says when he comes to a halt in the middle of the room.

You flash a smile at him and shake your head. “It’s just Charles.”

“Just Charles?” the Monegasque asks with a roll of his eyes.

Before you know it, Max kneels on the edge of the bed, and leans down to press kisses all over your face, a move that brings a stupid giggle out of you. “She’ll call you back, now she’s all mine,” Max announces when he looks at the camera for a second.

It’s hard to miss the expression on your best friend’s face, the way his nose scrunches and he acts like he was about to throw up. “Disgusting,” he notes.

Next to you, Max doesn’t seem bothered by that, if anything, it just makes him more smug than he usually is in your company. “Screw you. I can shower my girlfriend with kisses anytime I want.”

“Since when?”

You let out a tired sigh as you push the man on your side away before he can give you another kiss on the cheek. “He’s been like that all day, he thinks he’s funny,” you tell Charles with a shake of your head.

“I’m hilarious,” Max corrects you as he lies down on the small space on your side. “And since we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, it’s only natural to act like this, no?”

“Only in public.”

“If you touch her in an inappropriate way, I’ll push you off the track tomorrow,” Charles warns him.

Instead of being scared, Max only lets out a carefree laugh. “You’ll have to get close to me first.”

When you turn back to the phone, you can see that little shit kind of grin on your friend’s face. “Your car sucks this year,” he notes happily. “Anyway, I have to go. Talk to you later.”

You wave him goodbye, then end the call with a sigh.

“So does yours,” Max mutters under his breath, even though Charles isn’t there anymore.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, then blow it out slowly to calm yourself. Soon this will pass, soon you’ll be free again. Until then, you’re stuck here with the Dutchman, who happens to act like the perfect boyfriend.

When you look over at Max, you notice that he’s staring right back, as if he’s been watching you all this time. But what if he has truly been watching you? There’s something in those blue eyes you can’t quite place yet. It’s something you’ve never seen before, an emotion that’s completely unfamiliar, and maybe even a little unsettling.

Before you could say anything, though, he grins at you then rolls off the bed, heading to the mini fridge in the corner to get a Red Bull out for himself. He asks you if you'd like one, but your heart is already racing, an energy drink is the last thing you need.

Just two or three more races. The storm will end, and you can all go back to your everyday lives.

[may 2025 – monaco grand prix]

Over two months later you’re still pretending.

And now it’s time for the most important race of the season: the Monaco Grand Prix. Charles’s home race. The one you want to watch from the Ferrari garage along with his family you’re so close to.

But first, it’s time for dinner with Charles, his mom, and Alex, to which Pascale invited Max too. If Charles brings his girlfriend, you should bring your boyfriend too, she said. And who are you to say no to your second mother?

Later in the afternoon you’re trying on dresses in your family’s penthouse, happy that they are away with their friends until Saturday since Max decided to jump in and pick you up. He arrived early–like, two hours early—so now he’s the one rating your outfits.

“The color is nice, it suits you, but the shape is terrible,” he comments as he holds up the makeshift rating card, a smaller whiteboard he writes his points on.

Six points. Okay, this goes back to the walk-in closet, but you only leave after sticking out your tongue at him, because you love this dress so much that hearing it doesn’t look good on you physically hurts.

Three more outfits later he lets out a groan and jumps up after tossing the whiteboard to the other end of the couch. “I have an idea,” he begins as he follows you to the bedroom for whatever reason.

“I’m not gonna wear jeans with a Red Bull Racing shirt, forget it,” you point out without looking back at him.

“What? No, I’d rather you wear that when you’re with Ferrari this weekend.”

You spin on your heels to look at him, and sure enough, there’s that cheeky, boyish grin you were expecting. But how does he know about your plan to spend the weekend on Charles’s side of the paddock? You never mentioned that.

To your surprise, he knows perfectly well what’s going on inside your head. “What? You thought I wouldn’t know that this weekend is special? I discussed this with Charles a while ago, everything’s ready for you,” he tells you casually.

“Thank you. So, what do you have in mind, then?” you wonder as you walk closer to him.

Max lets out a thoughtful hum as his eyes sweep over your body, as if he was making this up on the spot. “Well, I would suggest jeans and a Simply lovely shirt, but no, I have a better idea. I have a surprise for you in my backpack, give me a sec.”

You watch him rush out of the room with a frown on your face, wondering what the hell is happening here. Max being nice and thoughtful is nothing new, but today it just feels different, like something has shifted in your fake relationship.

To be honest, you may have been thinking about him more than you probably should, even when he’s not around. You find yourself opening the messaging app you usually use, typing some words before changing your mind and deleting them. Or other times your finger hovers over the screen as you wonder if you should call him or not.

You’re kind of afraid of whatever that means. Is this more than just pretending?

At this point, you can’t help but wonder if it’s time to put an end to this. By now the press moved on, focusing on other drivers’ relationships instead of yours. It’s yesterday’s news, and everybody knows Charles and Alex are back together, and that they’re happier than ever. So what’s the point of this? Nothing.

Yet…

“Before you ask, I cheated and asked Charles to somehow get me what size you wear. Apparently Alex straight-up asked you, so,” he begins with a sheepish smile as he holds up a dress.

It’s a beautiful dark blue cocktail dress, which somehow didn’t have any wrinkles on it despite spending God knows how much time in that backpack. You don’t even know what to say, mostly because this gesture only proves what you’ve been suspecting about this certain shift you’ve noticed.

“You don’t like it.”

Your eyes move from the dress to your fake boyfriend, and you don’t hesitate to shake your head. “No, it’s beautiful. I just… Never mind. Thank you.”

Max lets out a sigh as he places the dress on the back of a chair. “Listen, I can see something’s bothering you. What is it?”

What are you supposed to say to this? That your brain is wandering to places you don’t want to explore?

“I’ll try on the dress, so could you wait outside?”

Nodding, Max gives you one last look, then leaves the room without a word. That’s the last time you speak until you meet the others, and even then, you keep an unusual distance. For him, it’s about being cautious. For you, it’s about making sure you make a fool out of yourself.

Charles, of course, notices the change in the atmosphere right away, and he even pulls you aside to start questioning you. But, even though he has known you since you were born, meaning he could probably give you some advice, you decide to lie and act like it’s nothing.

But it’s not nothing.

Your eyes keep finding Max throughout the evening, and you can’t help but wonder what’s going on in his head. Does he have the same thoughts? Or is he desperately waiting to be free of you? It’s hard to tell.

Just as you planned, you spend the weekend with Charles, arriving at the paddock with his family, staying in Ferrari territory just to be safe. Safe from Max. Safe from your thoughts. Safe from the media.

But there’s an itch in the back of your brain, one you can’t scratch. And the itch even has a voice, repeating his name over, and over, and over again. It’s getting louder with each passing second, with each moment you see him on the screens on the wall, when your phone buzzes to notify you of a new message from him.

Alex gives you worried looks every now and then, but it takes her a while to open up and tell you what it’s about. And when she finally tells you what’s going on, you feel like the whole world has turned against you. First, everyone was freaking out because they thought you and Charles were getting married. Then it was you and Max. Now? Now the fans are mad because you chose your best friend over your boyfriend.

You close your eyes for a moment, but then you take a deep breath and leave the garage, trying to move in a way that doesn’t scream how terrible and pathetic you feel right now. Some fans are screaming bloody murder because Max is starting the race from P10 after a mechanical issue in Q3, which only happened because his lucky charm–you–wasn’t there with him on Saturday.

To be honest, you haven’t talked since the dinner. You’ve been avoiding him, ignoring him, and you hate yourself for not answering him.

“Wait,” you hear a familiar voice calling after you.

Fuck.

Max ran all the way here, ready to jump into the car based on the suit he already wears, but despite this, here he is, looking for you. There are people already turning in your direction, you can’t just leave him there, so you come to a halt and force a smile on your face.

“Hey, I–”

Before you could say anything, he gently but firmly puts a hand around your neck to pull you into a kiss. It’s rushed, passionate, and messy, yet it feels perfect. This is the first time the two of you kissed, until now you carefully avoided that situation, but God, what did you miss?

It’s only when he lets go for a moment that you notice the cameras around you, but it doesn’t seem to bother him, in fact, it just draws a smug smirk on his face. “Well, if you want to jump ship, Red Bull’s always waiting for you. I love you,” he adds quietly.

This short-circuits your brain. This didn’t sound fake, you have a feeling he meant it. But if he meant it, then… Okay, you need to stop, you can’t overthink, you can’t let him put ideas in your head.

You want to say something, anything, really, but nothing comes to your mind.

He flashes a big smile at you before pressing a rushed kiss on your cheek. “Come over tonight. The cats miss you.” And with that, he waves goodbye and leaves.

What the hell just happened?

Luckily, you have enough brain capacity left to send him a quick good luck message.

“I was hoping you would jump in, but don’t worry, I’m glad you’re here now” Max says when he opens the door of his apartment.

Yeah, right. The invitation. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t go there, not now. Not when you had these confusing feelings and thoughts. Did he mean it when he said those words? Did he catch feelings just like you did?

Because you did. You caught feelings in the past two months, and it wouldn’t be fair to deny. Just how long can you play pretend knowing damn well you want more from him?

Letting out a sigh, you go straight to his living room without saying a word–something that confuses him based on the questioning hum he lets out as you walk past him. Once he catches up, you gulp and prepare to speak up, breaking the awkward silence. This has never been the problem, not once. You could always chat and laugh, but now it feels different.

“Maybe it’s time to end this fake relationship,” you announce, even though the thought breaks your heart.

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” he repeats stubbornly as he sits on the couch and picks up his youngest furry kid. “Aren’t we having fun? Why can’t this become something real? Come on, you enjoyed that kiss this afternoon, didn’t you?”

Oh, that confident smile of his is driving you crazy. You just want to slap him.

You want to slap that handsome face.

DAMN IT! FOCUS!

“Max, people have moved on, there’s no reason to keep going,” you try, although your voice lacks conviction.

And he knows. He always knows if there’s something you’re not telling him. This time he starts with a doubtful look, which is followed by a wide, Cheshire Cat grin. The thing is, Max always gets what he wants, and this time you have a feeling you’re what he wants.

Before you know it, he puts the cat to the side–who gives him a mean look in return–and reaches out to take your hands to pull you into his lap. Your brain melts when you feel his hands on your waist, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin through your shirt. Why does it feel so good? You don’t want to like it as much as you do.

Taking a deep breath, you try to pry his hands off yourself to break the spell, but his grip only tightens as he launches himself forward to capture your lips in a kiss. Another mind blowing kiss that knocks every coherent thought out of your brain.

The fact you like it is pathetic.

But still oh so good.

Maybe giving him a chance is what you should do now. Maybe he’s right, maybe you would be good together. So, without thinking more, you let yourself get lost in the kiss as you wrap your arms around his neck. But he suddenly leans back to build a little distance.

“I have an idea,” he begins with a smile, his lips red and swollen. “I have napkins in the kitchen, let’s write a contract. Seems to work for you.”

“God, you’re so silly,” you tell him with a grin, then kiss him again.

#max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc

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yuechihua · 2 days ago

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a midnight guest.

summary: jamil has to contend with an unexpected guest and his own growing feelings when ramshackle dorm's pipes burst and kalim invites you to stay at scarabia.

notes: 4.7k words, author's notes, fluff

Jamil has long known of Kalim’s unfortunate habit of picking up strays, his inability to resist a pitiful look or downturned mouth, so he shouldn’t have been so surprised when Kalim shows up at the dorm with you and Grim in tow.

“I’m giving them a place to stay!” Kalim announces, gesturing at you and Grim like he’s presenting Jamil with two kittens he’s found off the side of the road. His smile is bright, even as the sun slips down the horizon, painting the entrance of their dorm in darkening oranges and reds.

A cool breeze stirs through the evening, and Jamil keeps his face perfectly neutral as his eyes bore into you and Grim. Grim shuffles like an impatient child, but you’re more tranquil, clutching a duffel bag to your chest.

When you notice Jamil’s eyes on you, you smile at him, apologetic.

“Sorry,” you murmur. There’s a trace of embarrassment in your voice. “I know this is unexpected. But the pipes at Ramshackle burst, and no one else has room for me. I was going to ask Crowley, but—”

“But I found them!” Kalim interrupts. “And we have so much room, and the idea of our friends out in the cold is sad, and the more the merrier, right?”

Kalim picking up strays is a kind gesture, sure, but with his scattered attention, the responsibilities and care inevitably end up falling on Jamil. Promising things he can’t keep, making plans that just end up creating more work and stress for other people, thinking kindness is a convenient excuse for every irresponsible action: it’s all so painfully Kalim it makes Jamil want to shake him until some loose screw in his head clicks into place.

You’re not to blame for this situation, not really. Jamil doesn’t even hold any particular distaste for you; his shit list is a mile long, but you’ve generally managed to keep yourself off it. Still, that doesn’t mean he’s enthused at having to put up another guest for the night. It’s a security risk, even though he doubts you could do anything with both a lack of magic and malice.

Additionally, you’ve always been more of Kalim’s friend than his. Everything he has belongs to Kalim, but nothing of Kalim belongs to him, as much as Kalim insists they share everything, like true friends do. It’s a naive thought, ugly in the pure way Kalim says it. Jamil has no desire to compete for things that can’t be his.

Besides, friendship means nothing in their world. Someone is always waiting with a knife behind their back or poison in their hand. You could mean well, but who’s to say you don’t have ulterior motives of your own?

“Come in,” he says. His voice is smooth, cordial. The perfect attendant, the diligent servant. “We do have quite a few spare rooms. I can make one up for you.”

“Oh, and they should join us for dinner, too! Jamil is the best cook,” Kalim says, turning towards you with puppy-dog enthusiasm. “You’ll love anything he makes!”

“I don’t want to impose,” you begin.

“Free grub? Count me in!” Grim says. “Whatcha got on the menu?”

“Ooo! I don’t know! But I just know it’s going to be good. Do you have anything you want? I’m sure we can get it for you!”

Jamil lets a sigh escape him. You’re the only one who seems to notice, watching him with a tilted head, as if observing him, but he has no time to puzzle out your intentions. Dinner was just supposed to be Kalim and him, and now he has to figure out a way to feed two additional people. There’s no reason for you to pay attention to him, regardless.

The rest of the evening passes only with the minimal amount of trouble that Kalim’s presence usually brings: careless promises of future parties, a mess of dishes he has to clean, and overwhelming generosity that needs to be checked. Somehow, Jamil manages to whip together a few more dishes to feed both you and Grim, the latter whose stomach seems to be endless. Kalim’s chatter flows just as eternally, and Jamil can only pray for dinner to be over quickly.

When it’s over, he guides you and Grim to your room, leading you down winding hallways and luxuries strewn carelessly at every corner, priceless vases and artwork that’s worth more money than he can make in a lifetime. It’s a constant reminder of Kalim’s wealth, his endless presence saturing into every corner of the dorm.

“This is your room,” he says. It’s a spare guest room, one of many, in fact, that Kalim has. It’s sumptuous as all of them are, with silk drapes, embroidered bed sheets, and heavy wooden furniture crafted by skilled artisans.

“This is one swanky place!” Grim crows. “Do ya think we can take some of it home?”

Jamil smiles, a touch coldly. “Only if you can afford it. A pillow alone is worth more than your entire dorm.”

“Okay, jeez,” Grim murmurs.

“Thank you for this, Jamil,” you say. You linger at the doorway, even as Grim runs in and starts jumping on the bed in delight, the mattress soft and springy enough to launch him several feet in the air.

“Say nothing of it. Kalim invites friends over all the time.”

“It just seems like a lot of work,” you venture. “And it was last minute. I feel bad.”

“Don’t. It’s no more work than I’m used to.”

“All right.” You look like you want to say more, but mercifully, you only dip your head at him. “Good night, Jamil.”

“Good night, prefect.” If there was one thing to say about you, then it was that you understood when to keep your mouth shut and read the mood, a skill both Kalim and Grim sorely lacked.

It’s late at night when Jamil finally has time for himself, and he settles on the edge of his bed, letting his hair loose, running through the list of everything he has to do in the morning. It’s exhausting that his day never really seems to end. There’s always something to prepare for, another task to consider, someone else to watch over.

Not even his time belongs to him. His life will always be spent at another’s whims.

His head throbs. He stands, running a hand through his hair. Maybe he’ll grab some water to help him sleep.

The halls are silent at this time of night, a change from the usual noise and rush of students. It’s peaceful, the shadows pooling at his feet, the moonlight gilding everything in silver. In its solitude, it almost makes Jamil feel like the dorm is his, as foolish of a thought as it is.

There’s shuffling coming from the kitchen. He freezes just beyond the door, hand gripping the pen in his pocket. An intruder? Or another student? Regardless, he rounds the corner, pen in his hand, a spell on the tip of his tongue—before you whirl around, lit by the buttery yellow light of the fridge, clutching a plate of grapes and a glass of water with one hand.

“Jamil,” you say in a gasp, startling just enough that the water ripples in your cup. “I didn’t expect anyone else to be here.”

“I could say the same of you,” he says, relaxing his grip on his pen.

“I was still feeling hungry. I didn’t want to bother anyone, so…”

“What about Grim?”

“He’s asleep. Here, let me get you some water.”

“I don’t need–” But you’re already reaching for another ceramic cup, and it’s more trouble to refuse this small kindness than it is to accept it. He leans against the island in the middle of the kitchen, marble counter digging into his hip, watching you fill the glass at the sink.

“Here.” You offer it to him. “Want some grapes, too?”

He looks at the pile of grapes in your dish, shining in rich, luscious purples and greens, like miniature jewels, dew clinging to the skin. “I’ll take one.”

The water is cool, and the grapes burst with fresh, sweet juice on his tongue. The two of you snack in the quiet. It’s surprising how relaxed he feels, how easy it is to be by your side. There’s no malice from you, nor a crushing weight of expectation. You’re like the clear, refreshing water in a stream.

The grapes are almost gone when you speak, rolling one between your fingers like a marble. “I’ve always wanted to talk to you more.”

“Me?” he says.

“Is there another Jamil Viper in the room?” you tease. “Yes, you.”

“Why? There’s no benefit to getting to know me. I’m not like Kalim.”

There’s a mischievous edge to your smile as you glance at him. “So what? I just want to get to know you.”

“... I’m not an interesting person.”

“I like people like you,” you say. “Here. Let me wash these.” Before he can protest, you’re already grabbing his cup and bringing all the dishes to the sink. Your words are strange, and he can’t make sense of them at all. Him? You want to know him? After everything he’s done to present himself as an ordinary student, why would you take an interest in him?

Maybe it’ll be to his benefit, though. You have ties to Crowley, and your own social connections could prove useful someday. There’s always the possibility that you’re attempting to use him in some regard, too. If that’s the case, then a relationship of mutual give and take isn’t the worst thing in the world, despite your lack of magic.

“Good night again, Jamil,” you say. It’s an odd feeling, not having to rush around, knowing things will fall apart if he doesn’t keep them together. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night,” he says. You leave. For a few seconds more, Jamil lingers in the empty kitchen, the memory of the sweet taste of grapes on his tongue.

In the morning, you act no differently than usual. It’s as if Jamil dreamt the entirety of last night’s encounter.

“I hope you slept well,” you greet him at breakfast.

“I hope the same for you,” Jamil responds. He’s attentive to your movements, studying you out of the corner of his eye. You act no differently than normal, chiding Grim for eating so fast he chokes, and bantering with Kalim. You’re casual, relaxed.

The day passes much the same after that. He keeps track of Kalim, handles various chores throughout the day, and attends classes, perfecting his goal of keeping his grade at a middling, respectable level.

It bothers Jamil, just a little, how aware he is of you, seeing the flutter of your uniform in the corridors, hearing your laughter across the lunchroom. When you’re with your friends, Ace and Deuce, passing him in the halls, you smile at him.

“Hello, Jamil,” you greet.

“Hello,” he responds.

There’s no more to your conversation, simple and short as it is, even as he hears Ace in a fierce whisper, exclaiming, “Prefect, I didn’t think you knew Jamil!”

Jamil entertains the thought that you’re simply trying to cozy up to him in order to target Kalim, but he banishes it as soon as it arrives. You’re already friends with Kalim, so if you wanted to harm him, you’d have the chance to do so by now. So why the interest in him? What possible reason could you have to get closer to him?

That night, as he sits in bed, Jamil can’t bring himself to sleep. Instead, he heads out to the kitchen again. It’s for no reason other than a midnight snack, he reassures himself, even as his pace quickens when he hears the quiet noise of someone in the kitchen past the hour everyone should be asleep.

You’re perched on the kitchen counter, swinging your legs, a pot of warm tea gently humming on the stove. There are two cups and a plate of crackers set next to you.

It’s hard to believe you’ve taken a genuine interest in him, but the suspicions temporarily relax as you offer him a cracker from the same stash you’re munching on. He takes it without a word, and you pour tea into the second cup, sliding it over to him.

“You look nice with your hair down,” you greet. “Can’t sleep?”

“I wanted to stretch my legs,” he says. “And you?”

“I’m just here because I want to be.”

“I see.” Jamil takes a sip from his tea. It’s fragrant and floral and altogether a gentle taste.

There’s no more conversation until the food is done and the tea is cooled, at which point you simply hop off the counter and say, “Good night, Jamil.”

“Good night, prefect,” he responds.

In the morning, over breakfast, as Grim squabbles over Kalim feeding him too many crackers, you say, over your own plate once he finally sits down, “Good morning, Jamil. Did you sleep well?”

“Good morning. It was fine.”

It’s a simple greeting, nothing more. But there’s a weight to your words, as if your day can’t start and your night can’t end until you see him.

After that, it becomes an unspoken agreement for the two of you to meet every night. In that quiet space of time, when everyone else is asleep and the halls belong to him, Jamil finds himself drawn to the kitchen. It’s rare that he arrives before you do, with your plate of simple snacks and quiet companionship.

The two of you talk about nothing in particular, but even a relaxed, meandering conversation still washes away the exhaustion of his day. The sound of your voice has come to be rather familiar and soothing.

“Grim keeps a stash of tuna cans under his bed for emergencies, but keeps eating through them whenever he gets hungry, which defeats the point of having a stash,” you’ll tell him.

“Kalim doesn’t even think to keep food on him,” Jamil will reply dryly. “All he has to do is ask someone to fetch him something if he’s hungry.”

This is the only time of his day in which he has a moment for himself. Yet, he doesn’t mind sharing a piece of his time with you. You have common sense; you don’t irritate him unnecessarily; you’re clever and useful. That’s all it is, and no more than that.

“You look at the prefect a lot,” Kalim remarks once.

“I don’t,” Jamil replies. “Since they’re our guests, I’m just taking it upon myself to make sure their needs are met.”

Still, perhaps Jamil has gotten too used to your presence if even Kalim notices, though Kalim has always had his moments of unnerving emotional perception.

Several weeks or so later, you, Grim, Jamil and Kalim are passing time in the lounge. The four of you are supposed to be “studying” (read: you and Jamil are going over class notes, and Kalim and Grim are playing some nonsensical card game whose rules they keep making up). Occasionally, though, when he looks up, he’ll meet your gaze, and you’ll make a silly face at him. It’s cute, not that he would ever tell you that.

He’s just put his pen to paper when Kalim exclaims, in a voice louder than it needs to be, “Ramshackle is fixed?”

“Yeah, they just got it done. But dunno if I wanna go back tomorrow,” Grim says. “We’ve got a nice gig here.”

“You can stay for as long as you want,” Kalim says. “Oh, and feel free to visit as often as you want, too! It’s going to be lonely without you two!”

A blotch of ink is forming under his pen, staining his paper with a dark pool. Of course. How could he forget? Your time here is temporary. You were always going to leave, and it’ll be a relief to have two less people to worry about.

He only feels so strange because he’s fallen into a habit of greeting you every morning, and seeing you every night. It’s simply difficult when his routine is shaken in unexpected ways, that’s all.

Jamil risks a glance at you, but your head is still bent over your paper. He can’t make out your expression, but your hands have stilled over your notebook. What are you thinking? He won’t be able to find out until tonight.

Grim and Kalim chatter in the background, returning to their game, but you and Jamil are both weighed down by unexpected silence. The blotch on his paper has grown, ink staining and spreading. There’s no way to fix it now.

The evening passes slower than usual. Jamil finds himself hurrying to the kitchen, the moon lighting his way as he flies with silent steps. However, several feet away, voices and warm light spill out from beneath the door.

Jamil’s pace slows, something sludgy and dark churning in his stomach. He doesn’t want to look, but he has to. You’re in the kitchen as usual, elbows propped against the counter, a plate of cookies resting beside you. And right next to you, his smile glowing like the sun, eyes crinkled in foolish complacency, is Kalim.

The two of you are engaged in some conversation about classes or extracurriculars. As Jamil stands in the pool of shadows, outside the reach of the light, all he can think about is how wide your smile is, an ease in your stance that only Kalim can bring out in people.

“Hi Jamil!” Kalim chirps, head perking up in his direction. “You can’t sleep, either? I was just going to grab something to eat, but then I saw the prefect was here!”

“No,” he says. “I wasn’t able to.”

“Come join us,” Kalim urges. “Do you want some of these cookies?”

“I’m not hungry.”

The thing about wanting, Jamil finds, is that it’s useless. Desires like his will only go unfulfilled, because, after all, he can never put himself first. Everything he does, everything he has, will only ever be given in service to Kalim. He’s doomed to forced mediocrity, to hide in the shadows to make Kalim shine brighter.

It’s a lesson he’s had to learn again, and again, and again. Nothing is his. He can only bite back his own useless anger, a snake choking on its own poison.

“I’m going to go on a walk,” he says.

“Okay! Come back when you’re done!” Kalim exclaims.

Jamil doesn’t meet your eyes as he strides away, keeping his steps even, measured, and fast. You’ll be gone by tomorrow, and he will still be here with Kalim, the shackles of an unchanging relationship and routine and future.

His body reacts before his mind can when he hears footsteps behind him, whirling around before your outstretched hand can touch him. It hovers in the air between the two of you, before you let it fall.

“Jamil,” you say. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just needed to clear my head.”

Your eyes are luminous, reflecting the silver of the moon. “Can I walk with you, then?”

“You left Kalim behind?”

“I was worried about you,” you say. “He’s all right. He was going to head to bed soon, anyway.”

He lets out a sigh, runs a hand through his hair. “All right.”

It’s a quiet walk. He’s learned to keep his footsteps silent, but you haven’t had to learn that same skill. It’s a strange comfort, the echo of your rhythmic steps, a constant reminder of your presence. He finds himself trying to match your particular pace.

“Grim and I are moving back to Ramshackle now that the pipes have been repaired,” you say. “They had to overhaul the entire thing.”

“It’ll be nice to go back home, I’m sure.”

“Yes, but I’ll miss Scarabia.”

“Like Kalim said, you’re welcome to visit.”

“Would you be okay with that?”

“If Kalim says it’s all right, I don’t see why not.”

You scuff at the ground with one of your shoes, as if you’re unsatisfied with that answer. “I’ll miss this too, you know.”

“Hm?”

“Getting you to myself every night,” you say. “I like Kalim, but I don’t really get to spend time with you alone like this.”

At some point while you’ve been talking, your steps have slowed to a crawl until you’re no longer moving. He’s stopped as well. You stare at him, unflinching, chin raised. What does he look like in your eyes?

“You say a lot of bold things, prefect.”

“You don’t get what you want if you’re not bold.”

That’s not true, he wants to say, but what would the point be? Right now, you’re still here. You’re with him. Your words are assured, confident, in a way that makes him want to believe you.

“It’s a nice night,” he begins. “Nice enough for a flight.”

If Jamil was a better person, he could say the suggestion in his words is born from affection, an innocent desire to be close to you. After all, Kalim is the one constantly offering people rides on his magic carpet, as if the sky is also a luxury he can own. But he doesn’t own it, and he doesn’t own your time, either.

“Should we go for a loop around the area, then?” you say.

It takes little effort to find a broom and repurpose it for his uses; flight magic is a parlor trick, but magic has always come easily to him. What Jamil has to be more careful with is flying with another person as he drags the enchanted broom out to a balcony. You hop on with ease, keeping a suitable distance behind him, hands wrapped around the handle in front of you.

You seem used to the process. Have one of your freshman friends taken you out like this? Or Kalim? Were you comfortable enough to wrap your arms around their waist with the unthinking nature of affection?

“Should I get closer?” you ask. There’s new mischief in your voice, as if you can sense his thoughts. If nothing else, Jamil is tangibly aware of the warmth and weight of you behind him.

“Only if you don’t want to fall off,” he says curtly. There’s rustling, and then your arms are sliding around his waist, hugging him close. Jamil is silently thankful for the fact you can’t see his face.

“It’s always important to be careful of flight safety. Vargas told us that, you know!”

“Don’t let go, then.”

With no more warning, he sets off into the air, ascending with a practiced ease and speed. Up, and up, and up, until he can disappear into the clouds, reach up close to touch the frosty brightness of the stars, until everything below him shrinks and disappears into insignificance and nothing matters except for this.

The wind kisses his face, the cool night enveloping him. He’s free. He could go anywhere, do anything, and there will be nothing to stop him. This is his, all his.

“How far do you think you can go?” you shout, raising your voice against the rushing air.

“As far as I want.”

“Are there any places you want to visit, then?”

“Everywhere,” Jamil says. The wind frees an honesty in him he wouldn’t be able to afford otherwise. Or maybe it’s just because it’s you. “I’ve always wanted to go all over the world at some point.”

“Well, we have one night to do it all,” you say, playfully.

“You want to come with me?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Your arms are still looped around his waist, the only spot of warmth against the cold night.

“It wouldn’t be too bad if you did.”

In response to his words, you squeeze his waist once.

The two of you soar through the air for another hour, until you start shivering and Jamil brings his broom around, alighting on the same balcony you departed from. It’s over, but the thrill of his momentary freedom still hums in his blood.

Perhaps you’re feeling the same way, because neither of you make a move to head inside. Instead, you rest your arms atop the white stone balustrade, staring out at the sky.

“You’re leaving tomorrow,” he says.

“Yeah. I can’t impose on you any longer. So, can you indulge me a little?”

“What is it?”

“Let’s spend a little more time together.”

“All right,” he concedes. You start making your way down the halls, a cheer lighting your steps. You’re heading to the kitchen again, and this time, it’s mercifully empty. No Kalim in sight, all the lights turned off. The only reminder of his presence is the empty plate left on the counter, which Jamil will have to wash later.

You drum your fingers on the marble island, some imaginary rhythm he can’t follow, before sliding down to sit against it, knees tucked up to your chin. You wave a hand at him, and he reluctantly sinks down until he’s cross legged, right next to you, on the cool tile floor. Shadows and appliances he uses everyday stretch out before him, but the darkness always makes everything a little unfamiliar.

“It feels like this is our secret clubhouse,” you say. “It’s nice.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. I like spending time with you.”

“Why?” he asks. “I told you from the beginning. I’m not an interesting person. There’s not a lot I can do for you.”

Your smile is cheeky as you rest your head on your knees. “Let me tell you a secret, Jamil. Ramshackle was actually fixed a while ago. Grim and I could have left a lot sooner; he just let the proverbial cat out of the bag by accident today.”

“Prefect,” Jamil says, appraising you with renewed interest. “You’re slyer than you look.”

You wiggle your fingers. “You don’t get by without being a little underhanded, you know!”

Your conversation winds pleasantly through all manners of topics, from the mundane to the academic. The hours are ticking away, and he’ll have to get up in the morning to handle all his various responsibilities. But it’s hard to tear himself away from you, even when his limbs grow numb from sitting for so long. If Jamil leaves, he knows the moment will be over. Just for now, it’s the two of you, alone in your own world.

You’re yawning when he finally broaches his question; he’s been waiting for just the right moment. “Prefect.”

“Hm?”

“Why didn’t you leave once Ramshackle was fixed?”

It’s hard to look away from you when you keep smiling at him like this, as if he’s being drawn like the tides by the moon: a helpless, and inevitable, phenomenon. “Because I want to say good morning and good night to you every day.”

“Oh.”

“Jamil?”

“Yes?”

“What about you?”

The thing about want is that Jamil is familiar with it; he knows acutely what it’s like to desire more than he should, to have it fester and rot from inside, as if it’ll destroy him if he doesn’t do something about it. Nothing is his, but maybe, just maybe, it would be okay to have just one thing, something he can’t let anyone else take from him, to selfishly cling to it.

“I’m going to tell you good night, prefect. And when you wake, I’ll be the first one to greet you,” he says.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Even right now you’ll do it?”

“I’ll say it first if you want. Good night, prefect.”

Good night, Jamil.” The sleepy excitement in just those few words alone is palatable.

You lean your head against his shoulder, and he shifts so it’s comfortable. Neither of you speak. From your even breathing, you might have fallen asleep already.

In a second, Jamil will move. He can wake you up just long enough for you to walk back to your room, or he’ll carry you if he has to. Then, he’ll slip into his own bed. If the two of you are caught together, it’ll cause too much commotion.

But for now, Jamil will simply enjoy your presence, and tomorrow, he’ll be the first to tell you, “Good morning.”

#liya.writes #twisted wonderland #jamil viper #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jamil viper x reader #x reader

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222low · 3 days ago

Note

nct 127 hand placement (i love your writing! <3)

nct 127 + hand placement .☘︎ ݁˖

127 scenario on where they put their hands

content: fluff, handsy (?), not proofread (lmk if u find any mistakes!), gn reader

johnny

waist. would def want to make you feel secure, especially when you're with him. if he can't keep you close to him with his arm fully around your waist, he'd at LEAST make sure it was on your lower back. he wants to give you the reassurance that he's always there and not gonna let go, which also gives off confidence.

taeyong

palm to palm. your hands would fit perfectly together, like a puzzle piece. i would say taeyong would have a more extravagant gesture when it comes to his hand placements, but he likes the silent understanding of your connection and the grounding that comes with your palms pressed together, no matter where you are.

yuta

thigh/knee. i think this is a more intimate one, and one that yuta would definitely do. he wouldn't even do this on purpose, it just happens to be where his hands drift when you guys are together, where it feels the most comfortable. he likes the warmth of your skin on his and knows that you do too. he likes to tap his fingers against your skin playfully when he's bored, not even aware of it. you've grown to not acknowledge it as much either, it being a casual thing now.

doyoung

pinkies intertwined. i think that when you guys arent in public for everyone to see, he would definitely want your fingers intertwined, but just feeling each others presence with the closeness of two fingers is enough for him. just to know he's there. he would take your pinkie in his when he knows you're in situations where you're anxious, or if you guys were sitting down or waiting in line together, a promising connection.

jaehyun

your hand around his arm. i feel like jaehyuns arms would sort of act as your arm rest? being so close to him as his body radiates heat for the both of you gives you a sense of comfort and closeness knowing he won't go anywhere. i think he would like when you get tired and rest your head on his bicep as well, knowing that you feel comfy enough to do that.

jungwoo

around the back of your neck. ifykwim? around your neck and holding onto your hand that moves up to him, liking the feeling of your body sinking into his as his frame stand behind you. he loves coming up to you and just throwing his arm around your shoulders, holding you close to him. although casual, when you interlace fingers, you feel his thumb run over the back of your hand making you feel warm and secure.

mark

interlaced fingers. i just feel like this fits mark so well..romantic and traditional. dragging u along with him (or vice versa), but never letting go of each other. casually slipping his hand into yours, you can feel the affection he radiates. he loves interlacing your fingers because he thinks that it keeps you guys even closer, and you don't complain.

haechan

everywhere and anywhere. he'll honestly switch it up depending on his mood or the day. i feel like he would be really playful in a relationship and you would never know where his hands would go when you guys go out. romcom haechan putting his hand in your back jean pocket..around your waist..around your wrist..you never know, and he loves that.

a/n: thanks for reading!! its been a whileee lol..hopefully im back for a bit :3 gonna go work on some dreamie drafts!

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kxsagi · 2 days ago

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Omg I kept seeing your posts on my feed and yk it was only a matter of time before I started ITCHING to request.

So uhmm yeah 😅. I'd like to request for rin x reader where reader suggests (begs, forces even) rin to wear matching Halloween costumes. Rin eventually relents and they wear matching clothes idk. The characters they dressed up as is up to you lol 😭😭. This can be a multi character headcanon thing too if you want btw !!

“𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐫”

a/n: i love this request!!! i want it to be halloween season again already

and yes the title is based off the lyric from “monster” by lady gaga that is my FAVORITE lady gaga song of all time UGH

i couldn’t help it so i made a oneshot with rin + headcanons ft. shidou ryusei, isagi yoichi, kaiser michael, & mikage reo (yes i am willing to add another part to include other faves, but please request it so i can see it and don’t forget!)

"c'mon, rin," you whine, dragging out his name with a dramatic pout, "pleaseee? just this once?"

rin's arms are crossed, his blank stare fixed on you with the same deadpan expression he usually reserves for reporters asking dumb questions. he doesn't even dignify your pleading with a response, just slowly blinks at you, like he’s waiting for you to come to your senses.

"you can’t seriously be this against it," you groan, standing on your tiptoes to hold his face between your hands. you squish his cheeks slightly, making his lips pout involuntarily. "it’s not gonna kill you, rinnie. halloween is supposed to be fun. why are you so against matching costumes with your super cute, super loving girlfriend, huh?"

he stares at you in bored silence. your thumbs press into his cheeks. he blinks again.

"i’m not dressing up," he finally mutters through squished lips, voice flat and unwavering.

"liar," you accuse, leaning in closer, eyes narrowing. "you’re just trying to act all aloof and tough, but deep down you wanna wear stupid little couple’s costumes with me."

he exhales sharply through his nose, gaze unamused. "no."

"yesss," you counter, squeezing his face harder. "isagi would do it for his girlfriend."

rin’s eye twitches. "don’t bring him into this."

"shidou would do it too."

he stares you down. "shidou would show up naked."

"okay, true." you grin mischievously. "but isagi would do it."

rin’s entire jaw clenches under your hands. you feel it. he stares at you, hard, like he’s contemplating if breaking up is worth not having to wear a costume.

"... fine," he mutters, glaring at you through his lashes, voice heavy with defeat. "but if you make me wear something humiliating, i’m leaving you and going home."

you beam. he already knows he's doomed.

𐙚

cut to halloween night, and rin is seething.

standing before you, arms crossed and exuding enough grumpiness to scare off trick-or-treaters, is rin itoshi dressed as howl pendragon.

he’s wearing the loose, cream-colored poet shirt, unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of collarbone, with its wide, billowy sleeves practically falling off his shoulders. the black pants are fitted, almost too fitted, highlighting his long legs and lean frame. and, of course, he’s wearing the signature dangling earring, which you personally clipped on because rin refused to touch it.

his black hair falls naturally over his forehead, slightly tousled but still unfairly perfect, and when he gives you a deadpan stare, the faintest sway of the earring makes your brain short-circuit.

"you’re so hot," you say instantly, still marveling at the sight of him.

"shut up," he mutters, clearly annoyed, yanking the sleeve of his shirt higher on his shoulder, only for it to fall back down again.

you grin, reaching over and gently pulling it back down. "nah, leave it. it looks better this way."

rin glares at you. "i hate you."

but the tips of his ears are red. and you definitely catch the way he subtly tugs you closer by your wrist, lacing your fingers together.

meanwhile, you’re dressed as sophie, your hair styled in soft waves. you’re wearing a modest blue dress with long sleeves, flowing down to your ankles. you look soft, ethereal. like you stepped right out of a studio ghibli frame.

and rin, despite his grumpy facade, can’t stop glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

"you look like you wanna kill me," you tease, poking his side.

"i do," he deadpans, scowling at the couples flooding the party venue with their half-assed cat ears and vampire capes. "you made me wear this."

"and you look stunning," you grin, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face. "like... stupidly handsome. if howl was a pro soccer player, he’d be you."

rin’s jaw clenches slightly, eyes narrowing. but his grip on your hand tightens just a fraction.

as you drag him toward the party crowd, you catch the stares. people are gawking, not just because of the spot-on costumes, but because rin itoshi, the notoriously aloof, "i’d rather eat glass than socialize" soccer star, is walking around in a flowy, romantic shirt, holding your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

someone even mutters, "why does howl look like he’s gonna deck someone?"

grinning, you stop him in the middle of the dance floor and tug him down slightly by his collar, leaning close to his ear.

"thanks for being my howl," you whisper, lips brushing his skin.

rin exhales slowly through his nose, eyes lidding slightly as he looks at you. his expression softens, just barely. but instead of responding, he dips down, closing the space between you and pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your lips.

when he pulls back, he leans close to your ear, voice low and raspy.

"you owe me for this," he mutters. "like... a lot."

your breath hitches slightly, but you manage to smirk. "oh, i’ll pay you back, alright."

he huffs softly, pretending to be annoyed. but when his hand slides down to rest against the small of your back, tugging you close, you know he’s just as down bad for you as you are for him.

even if he refuses to admit it.

shidou ryusei – hades and persephone

the moment you suggested matching halloween costumes, shidou was instantly on board. no begging needed. he was thrilled.

he lets you pick the couple’s theme and doesn’t even care what it is. you could’ve said "let’s be ketchup and mustard" and he still would’ve said yes.

you end up choosing a hades and persephone duo – him as hades, you as his goddess.

he goes all out: all-black suit, messy blond hair slicked back, black gloves, and faint red eyeliner smudged around his eyes to give him a more devilish look. he looks unfairly hot and knows it.

constantly smirking and calling you "my little goddess".

at the party, he pulls you into his lap and slings an arm over your thigh the entire time.

"you’re not going anywhere, babe. you’re my prisoner for the night, remember?"

dramatic, possessive, and constantly finding excuses to kiss you.

"persephone never escaped hades, y'know? you’re stuck with me forever, baby."

and you just know he makes you rewear the costume after the party.

isagi yoichi – spiderman and gwen stacy

isagi is… confused at first. like, why do you even want to match costumes?

"baby, it’s just halloween, not our wedding."

but the second you flash him the spiderman and gwen stacy costume idea, he’s in.

he shows up in the classic spidey suit, and you have to admit, he looks fine as hell in that skin-tight material.

you, as gwen, wear a white and black bodysuit with pink and teal webbing accents and a cropped white hoodie.

the second you put it on, isagi cannot stop staring. like, jaw slack, brain short-circuiting.

"holy shit, you’re so hot. wait, is this how you feel when you look at me?"

at one point at the party, he does the upside-down spidey kiss for fun. you both nearly fall over, but it’s worth it.

"we should wear these costumes every year," he grins, pulling you into another kiss.

kaiser michael – vampire lord and vampire bride

kaiser was immediately smug when you suggested matching halloween costumes.

"oh? you want everyone to see how good we look together? can’t blame you, schatz."

the two of you dress as a vampire lord and his bride – kaiser in an ornate black and red velvet suit, complete with a high collar cape and fake fangs.

he even slicks his hair back and adds subtle red contacts for the “drama.” you wear a blood-red corset dress, with lace gloves and a delicate choker, looking absolutely ethereal.

kaiser doesn’t shut up about how hot you look.

"scheiße… you’re gonna make me forget my own name, baby."

practically clings to you all night, leaning down every two seconds to brush his lips over your neck as if he’s about to "bite" you.

"mm, i think i might keep you as my blood bag forever, yeah?"

he refuses to take the costume off when you get home, because he’s having way too much fun.

mikage reo – jack and sally (the nightmare before christmas)

reo is excited the second you suggest matching costumes.

"hell yes. we’re going all out, baby."

you pick jack and sally from the nightmare before christmas. he gets so into it.

he shows up in a pinstripe suit, black gloves, and even paints his face white with black shading around his eyes to complete the skeletal look.

you’re dressed as sally, wearing a patched dress, colorful stitches painted on your arms, and pale makeup.

he spends the entire night making puns about being "dead serious" about you.

"i’d cross entire graveyards just to be with you, baby."

constantly holding your hand and twirling you around because the costumes are too cute not to show off.

halfway through the night, you catch him staring at you with this lovesick look and he just smirks.

"you know you’re stuck with me even in the afterlife, right?"

you roll your eyes, but your face is flushed.

#I LOVE HALLOWEEN #i also need lady gaga songs injected into my veins #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #shidou ryusei x reader #ryusei shidou x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #yoichi isagi x reader #mikage reo x reader #reo mikage x reader #kaiser michael x reader #michael kaiser x reader #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock headcanons #that boy is a monsterrr

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eeriepromis · 2 days ago

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Caleb Drama & Hypocrisy

[I originally posted this on the official subreddit but I'm not sure if it will get approved by the mods there. The servers are currently down too. - UPDATE: It did not. Flagged as hostile and uncivil instead which it is NOT.]

I want to have a civil, constructive conversation about something that’s been bothering me and many others in the community: There’s been a lot of hate directed at Caleb & Caleb girlies (even before his official release) and it’s only getting worse now that his limited Myth is coming out. This isn’t about “not liking a character.” Everyone is entitled to that. This is about the ongoing hostility, mod bias (not reddit, if you know you know), and the double standards we’re seeing everywhere.

People are saying Caleb “stole” Sylus' wings theme or question why he already has a kiss in his myth. That’s … not how any of this works. The writers and artists literally work on all the characters. There is no such thing as one character “stealing” a theme from another. That’s like arguing over who’s allowed to wear capes in a fantasy setting.

Saying his myth kiss happened “so early” compared to the other LI's ignores the fact that Caleb and MC have a long-established relationship, unlike others who were strangers. (except Zayne who also had a kiss) Of course their development may look different. I'm not even able to enjoy that kiss since it's full of pain and despair - right before both of them literally seem to explode.

Caleb fans had to wait over a year, watching everyone else get content, CGs, story chapters, and celebrations - and yet we’re the ones being called entitled?

The hypocrisy is wild. People say “you have to watch Sylus’ Myth to understand him” (his actions) - And I agree! Sylus has a complex story. He made MC shoot him in the chest, brought her to an EVER scientist because he couldn’t resonate with her, wanted him to experiment on her which could have mutilated her Evol, and still - we are told to give him grace because his Myth explains it. And it does! He’s layered and ultimately loves MC deeply.

But you know what?

So is Caleb.

Caleb isn’t some manipulative monster. [here and here's why] He’s a character who went through trauma, experimentation, isolation, (in his CURRENT life) and still chose to sacrifice himself to survive and protect MC [db4sylus explained it here] - and even fights against a command to kill MC in the new Myth. His Myth and main story arcs are full of nuance - but most people stopped watching at his Main Story and judge him from there. How is that fair? (remember that without context it would be so easy to accuse Rafayel as a seriel k*iller, Xavier as a cheater, Zayne as rude and Sylus as a cruel kidnapper)

The same thing happens with Xavier, who gets called “boring” or “plain” - when in reality, he's anything but boring or plain - and ready to make morally gray decisions and be ruthless. [Has the Light Vanished?] (also let's not forget his *intense* freakiness. It's always the quiet ones guys)

Or Zayne, who’s called robotic, vanilla and cold, even though his Myth is (also) one of the most heartbreaking love stories in the game and used to be happy and warm - but something broke and cursed him. [Snowfall Embrace] - [Fractal Library Analysis] (whispers brat tamer)

Or Rafayel, constantly reduced to “bratty” or “dramatic,” when outside of MC he’s deeply guarded, serious, and vengeful. He’s only vulnerable with her. [Rafayel suffered a lot.] (so poetic, so incredibly deep, thoughtful and introspective.)

Sylus also is misinterpreted all the time even by his own fans as some ultra toxic red flag (I've seen some disturbing fanfics) Because there are those people who actually are into psychos and that kinda fantasies. [kiti_kiwi explained him beautifully] He is actually such a hopeless romantic and softie for MC - so very open for all her whims. (cough brat enabler cough)

Having those fantasies is alright, don't want to shame you (I don't really care tbh) - but some truly think those are canon to the characters; and that's where the issues lie.

If you’re going to hold one LI to a standard of deeper context, that should apply to all of them.

Every single love interest in this game has a duality. That’s literally the point. They are written to be flawed, complicated, and deeply in love with MC. They would never truly harm her. Everything they do - no matter how misguided (and there are truly worse fictional characters in other media) - is to protect her. That’s what they live for. (true giga simps my babies are *nods*)

So why is this fandom so divided and hostile all the time?

I love all the LIs. I started playing this game for the lore and story, not the romance. (it is my first otome and I am demi so there's that) But what I’m seeing right now (people refusing to engage with canon content, inventing toxic headcanons, and spreading hate from surface-level takes) isn’t criticism. It’s misinformation and targeted bullying that are also misleading new players.

You don’t have to like Caleb. You don’t have to main him. But please stop punishing the people who do. We waited over a year for him. And we deserve to enjoy him in peace. If you don't like others spreading misconceptions about your LI - then don't do it yourself to other LI's.

I also think some people in this fandom seriously underestimate how much Caleb girlies are actually going through - and how much hate, judgment, and bias we face daily across multiple platforms. Not just mild disagreements - I'm talking about accusations that are deeply personal and honestly crossing the line.

We’ve been called in*est apologists.

We’ve been told we love “red flags” and psychos (it's okay if you DO, but not if you are accused of it because of misconceptions)

and there must be something seriously wrong with us.

We’ve been mocked, ridiculed, tone-policed, and banned in places where every other LI Main has been allowed to thrive. It’s not just tiring - it’s isolating. (To be clear: I'm not talking about this subreddit!)

And yet - despite all of that? The Caleb channel in the Discord became a safe haven. More like a lads-general that accepts and understands Caleb but is also so very open to gush over every LI with open arms and every girlie. I’ve met Caleb fans (even Mains of other LI) who love him for wildly different reasons. Some are drawn to his protectiveness. A lot of us are the eldest daughters, so they like to be the ones to be cared for for once (to be free of all the responsibilities and expectations of others) and Caleb is so very good at caring. Some adore his teasing and flirty softness. (his VA makes it all sound SO authentic!) Some love his character design and uniform. Some see themselves. (the Millennial vibe, the responsibility, the yearning for freedom) And his cooking is always yearned for!

I'm also one of those who were worried about his portrayal in the new Main Story Arc at his release. That part was suffocating. It was hard to watch and play through. I'm not into yanderes or psychos at all. I didn’t enjoy it. It wasn’t what I wanted for him at all. (I'm also not into his Colonel uniform, sorry my fellow pipsqueaks xD but I know he hates it too.) At least Sylus had the twins as comedic relief *cries internally* And guess what? That’s okay.

What mattered was that I kept reading. I followed his entire arc - his Myth, his Anecdotes, his Bond Story, his Moments. And what I found was a character who made sense. (just like all the others) Who was still trying, still loving, still fighting against the worst parts of his world and himself - for her.

But that part? The part where we explain why we do see the nuance? The part where we talk about how we don’t excuse the red flags, but understand where they come from? It gets ignored. Every time.

This isn’t about defending toxic characters. It’s about wanting the same space to enjoy complexity as every other LI community has already been granted. And being tired of having to justify our existence in a fandom that’s supposed to be about love, choice, and story.

So before you assume Caleb fans are “into red flags,” (not denying there are a few, just like some Sylus girlies too tbh) maybe talk to a few of us if you don't understand. Ask why we like him. Listen when tell our reasonings instead of just dismissing them because they don't fit your context-lacking headcanon narrative. Respect that his arc, like every other LI’s, is layered, painful, and intentional.

We aren’t asking to be everyone’s favorite. We’re asking to exist without being attacked for it.

Please, let’s stop the "he-said-she-said" hate cycle. Let people enjoy what they love. That’s what fandom is supposed to be. Love, create and evolve together. (and angst together. totally angst together.)

I don’t care if you don’t like Caleb. That’s valid. Not every LI is for everyone. But the constant policing, mockery, and moral grandstanding aimed at fans who do like him is just exhausting. It’s okay to enjoy a character with flaws. It’s okay to enjoy different kinds of romance stories. That’s literally the point of this genre.

This is a game. A beautiful, story-rich, emotional game. Let people enjoy it. Let us enjoy our LI. And please stop treating us like we’re the enemy for doing so.

Like- I'm genuily confused??? I was there during the US5 & Tokio Hotel beefs, I was there during the Team Edward and Team Jacob wars and also during the Big Time Rush and One Direction phase. None of those fandoms seemed as divided and infighting like this one. Where are these people taking all the energy to hate and the jealousy from and why are they attacking fictional pixels and fans who can't change anything about their issues instead of working together instead?

Sincerely, A tired but still standing Caleb girly (and lore nerd) (thanks for reading through my TED talk if you've made it this far)

P.S.: A random thought that I've had while writing - I'm expecting all counterpart LI to have a darker lore and more "obvious" red flags than the OG3. Maybe the 6th will even be a Phoenix. Wings could be a counterpart thing. If you've haven't noticed yet - the overview in the Café where you select your LI: The OG3 are in white clothing, while their counterparts are wearing black so far.)

Lots of love to my fellow pipsqueaks.

#Love and Deepspace #LaDs #LaDs Caleb #LaDs Xavier #LaDs Zayne #LaDs Rafayel #LaDs Sylus #LaDs MC #character analysis #Eerie's Analyses #l&ds #lads infighting #hypocrisy #lads fandom

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latenightwithpizza · 2 days ago

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HOLY FUCKING SHIT !!!!! KAT THIS CAME OUT EVEN MORE AMAZING THAT I COULD IMAGINE IM LITERARLLY SCREAMING !!! I NEED MORE I BEG!!! 💗💘💗💘💗💘💗💘

You used to think Lorenzo Berkshire was perfect. / Until you realized the carefully curated perfection wasn’t for you, it was for his control. And Enzo was very, very good at control.

how did you just sum up enzo so perfecty right there - HE IS A LOVE BOMBER classic toxic man talent 😤

The slight gaslighting, the ever-so-subtle isolation from your friends, the way every ‘coincidence’ seemed to align just right in his favor. By the time you did, you were trapped in a web you didn’t know how to escape. Every your step was controlled, carefully calculated by Enzo's sweet smiles and cold eyes.

GOD KAT THIS IS JUST SO GOOD, imma need some Enzo fics from you I feel 👀🙏 cuz even this small sample you have his characterization down to the T!!!

enzo being able to bribe every lawyer off or them just running off scared until mattheo !!!!!

He was the defence attorney who won cases no one else would dare touch, to even look at. The man who had beaten aurors, ministers, and more corrupt officials than you could count. People said he had no fear. That he never lost. That he only defended those he deemed worthy, not caring much about the consequences. That money couldn’t buy his loyalty. LOVE CHEFS KISS BABAY

WITCH WEEKLY PLEASE HAHAH I love it also im giggling I got so excited at this small detail about the bored hot receptionist

Then her appraising gaze darted upward. She elegantly raised her perfect-shaped eyebrow as if reading and analyzing a potential competitor. There was disbelief and a hint of mocking in her gaze that said, 'How could he be waiting for you?' HEHEHEH it’s so giving a movie I feel

A single wall of floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the city skyline, and in front of them, seated behind a mahogany desk, was the man himself. sexy 🙂‍↕️🫠

The only thing that remained unchanged were his eyes. Dark, piercing, captivating, as if they knew all your dirty secrets that you trying to hide. OMG HES SO PRETTY UGGGGH 😍🥹🥹🥹🥹

Mattheo hummed, drumming his fingers against the desk. His lips tugged into a smug grin. "And you came to me. The unshakable, indispensable, and incorruptible Mattheo Riddle." / "Something like that," you mumbled almost reluctantly. CHEEK LITTLE SHIT

You were only halfway listening to the conversation when you realized you were shamelessly staring. Not at his face, exactly, but at the way he moved and held himself. The sharp flex of his fingers against the table as he spoke, the way his lips curled around every word, the smooth confidence in his voice as he tore through the evidence presented before him, the silent but almost palpable respect of his subordinates who listened attentively to his every word. It wasn’t the same smug arrogance from before — this was precision, intellect, power. And it was intoxicating. (LOVE THIS WHOLE FUCKING PARAGRAPH)

“Careful, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice like silk wrapping around a blade — captivating yet dangerous — making heat pool down in your stomach. “Another praise from you, and I'll think that you might start to like me.”

omg this line is so poetic I love it! I love you and I love this whole fic 10/10 my dear friend!!!

Devil's Advocate

Mattheo Riddle x FemReader

You never expected to need a lawyer — let alone him. Mattheo Riddle is infamous, both for winning impossible cases and for being insufferably arrogant while doing it. You don't trust him, but with your ex tightening his grip, you’re running out of options

Warnings: lawyer!au, psychological manipulation and emotional abuse from ex, swearing, power dynamics, legal drama, sexual tension, kinda slow burn. It's a mix of a modern!au and the wizarding world that is set after Hogwarts, ignoring the war.

Word count ~2,8k

A/N: I'm so excited about this one. Hope you'll like it too! And Enzo's girlies, I'm sorry. He's a bad guy here🤭

You used to think Lorenzo Berkshire was perfect.

Charming, attentive, the kind of man who remembered all the little things — a preference for fresh lilies over traditional red roses, the way you took your coffee, the book you offhandedly mentioned wanting to read. He was sweet, too. Thoughtful. A boyfriend from every girl's dream.

Until he wasn’t.

Until you realized the carefully curated perfection wasn’t for you, it was for his control. And Enzo was very, very good at control.

It took too long to see past the honeyed words and the expensive gifts, the way he made you feel like the most cherished person in the world. It took too long to recognize the patterns. The slight gaslighting, the ever-so-subtle isolation from your friends, the way every ‘coincidence’ seemed to align just right in his favor. By the time you did, you were trapped in a web you didn’t know how to escape. Every your step was controlled, carefully calculated by Enzo's sweet smiles and cold eyes.

And now? Now you were in trouble.

You wanted out. No, you needed out. But Enzo wasn’t the kind of man to just let go of what was his. He had money, charms, connections, and the ability to make things disappear. Every lawyer you approached? Gone before they could even hear your full case. Either bribed or scared off. The ones that weren’t? The ones that actually seemed interested? Well, they quickly lost that interest as soon as the stakes became clear and your ex's name left your lips. Unfortunately for you, Enzo had that effect on people.

All but one.

Mattheo Riddle.

You weren’t even sure why you went to him at first. Maybe desperation. Maybe because his reputation preceded him. Maybe because he was the only one left.

You knew his name since the school, of course. Everyone in the wizarding world did. But now people knew him for a whole different reason. He was the defense attorney who won cases no one else would dare touch, to even look at. The man who had beaten aurors, ministers, and more corrupt officials than you could count. People said he had no fear. That he never lost. That he only defended those he deemed worthy, not caring much about the consequences. That money couldn’t buy his loyalty.

And that last part was crucially important to you.

The sound of your heels echoed through the sleek marble floors of the law office, each step deliberate, controlled. You had to be. Because if you thought too much about the weight of the situation, about how you'd gotten here, you might just turn around and leave.

But you couldn't. And you wouldn't. Not when this was your last chance to break free.

The receptionist, an immaculately dressed woman with piercing eyes and a deep cleavage that could hardly be called decent, barely looked up from her 'Witch Weekly'. Her voice was lazily bored. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No." You swallowed, straightening your shoulders. "But Mr. Riddle is waiting for me."

"What's your name?" she said almost reluctantly.

Usually, you would flip people off for that gaze or tone. But now was not the right time or place to be bitchy. You gave her your name, your voice steadier than you felt, and after a beat, she inclined her head toward the heavy double doors at the end of the hallway behind her. "Go right in."

That was how you ended up here, standing in front of the office door, nerves coiled in your stomach. The brass nameplate on the door gleamed under the bright hallway lights.

Mattheo Riddle, Esq.

You felt your palms getting sweaty because of your nerves. But he was your last hope against Enzo. You couldn't back down now. So you took a deep breath, squared your shoulders, knocked softly, and opened the door.

The office was a sharp contrast to the pristine sterility of the lobby. It was warm wood-paneled walls, dark leather furniture, and a faint scent of smoke and something deeper, richer. Like expensive whiskey and old books. A single wall of floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the city skyline, and in front of them, seated behind a mahogany desk, was the man himself.

In that moment when you stepped into Mattheo Riddle’s office, the thought that you were in the wrong place crossed your mind. Not because you didn’t need help, your current predicament demanded it, but because everything about him, from the smug smirk to the unbuttoned collar of his tailored dress shirt, almost screamed trouble.

He didn't look up immediately, fingers tapping absently against the desk as he skimmed over a file. But then his dark eyes flicked up, locking onto yours with a sharpness that made your breath catch. His gaze flickered with recognition, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

“Well, well,” he drawled velvety, leaning back in his leather chair, fingers steepled together as he observed you like a cat might be looking at a particularly interesting mouse. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

'Fuck, he'd changed', you thought immediately. His features became more mature, sharper. Broad shoulders were wrapped in an expensive suit, as if his body and the costume were created to attract hungry or jealous glances. Plump lips, now without permanent cuts and wounds like in Hogwarts, were stretched into a familiar smirk that was both charming and mischievous. The only thing that remained unchanged were his eyes. Dark, piercing, captivating, as if they knew all your dirty secrets that you trying to hide.

You exhaled, gathering your thoughts together, and stepped further inside, not letting your nervousness show. "I need your help."

Mattheo leaned back in his chair, regarding you with an expression you couldn't quite read — amused, curious, or something else entirely. Then, with a slow and smug smirk, he gestured to the chair across from him.

You hesitated only a fraction before lowering yourself into the chair opposite him. It was plush, expensive, and did absolutely nothing to ease the tension coiling in your stomach. Mattheo watched you with the kind of patience that wasn’t patience at all. More like a predator toying with its prey, waiting for it to make the first move.

"You need my help," he echoed, that infuriating smirk not leaving his lips. "That’s interesting. Because I don’t usually take clients who walk in off the street without an appointment."

You felt a pang of irritation. 'Off the street? Like you were some kind of a homeless dog,' you scoffed mentally. But you convinced yourself to inhale deeply and regain your composure. You needed his help, and you honestly expected him to act all cocky. He'd always been like this, even as a teenager at Hogwarts.

The deep exhale left your lips as you forced yourself to meet his gaze directly. "I didn't have much of a choice. Every other lawyer turned me away. Or, more accurately, they were turned away for me."

His eyes flickered with a mix of something — amusement, intrigue, calculation. "Hmm, let me guess," he purred lowly with a knowing smirk. "Lorenzo Berkshire?"

You nodded, your fingers tightening into your lap involuntarily. "I assume you already know what he’s capable of."

Mattheo let out a low chuckle, tilting his head slightly in amusement. "Oh, I do. We go way back, Enzo and I. Hogwarts days, old friends, that sort of thing."

The words sent a chill down your spine. Fuck, you totally forgot about the fact that they were close. And now that meant he wouldn’t take your case. That meant he—

"But we aren’t friends now," Mattheo continued, his tone shifting, something dangerous and razor-sharp creeping beneath the previous amusement. "Haven’t seen him for three years," a dark and almost maniac flash flicked in his onyx eyes. "Which only makes this more… intriguing."

You exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to remain steady and not to show your relief too obviously. You didn’t want him to see how desperately you need his help. "He's been bribing and scaring off every lawyer I’ve tried to hire. And I can’t— I won’t stay trapped like this. I need someone he can’t buy," you said carefully.

Mattheo hummed, drumming his fingers against the desk. His lips tugged into a smug grin. "And you came to me. The unshakable, indispensable, and incorruptible Mattheo Riddle."

You arched a brow at his words. That arrogant prick. You wanted to shove his shit-eating smirk deep in his handsome ass. But instead you remained calm. You needed him. "Something like that," you mumbled almost reluctantly.

He grinned even wider, and damn him, even under these circumstances, even through your irritation and annoyance at his attitude, you could see why people were drawn to him. There was some dangerous charm to Mattheo, a confidence that didn’t just border on arrogance — he wore it like a finely tailored suit.

"Tell me everything, sweetheart," he mused finally, his tone playful yet calculated. Like he was amused and intrigued by this situation, but he also already had all the cards in this game. "Leave nothing out."

You swallowed, gathering your thoughts and nodding, and then began to speak.

As you recounted everything, how perfect Enzo had seemed at the very beginning, how he slowly and gradually tightened his grip on your life and choices, how things spiraled until you realized you were caught in something you couldn’t escape — Mattheo listened. Not just passively, but with an intensity that made you feel unease and your skin prickle. His dark eyes stayed locked onto yours, unblinking, absorbing every word, every pause, every unspoken fear woven between your sentences.

When you finally finished, Mattheo leaned back slightly, exhaling through his nose and rubbing his lower lip in thought. "He’s meticulous. I’ll give him that. But he made one mistake."

Your breath hitched. But you didn’t want to let your hopes up. He hadn’t said 'Yes' to you yet. So you asked a bit hesitantly and carefully, "What?"

"He underestimated you." Mattheo's smirk returned, sharper this time, like he was a predator who was ready to hunt their prey. "And now, he has to deal with me."

If you weren’t in this dreadful position right now, his dark and hawkish gaze'd probably intimidate you. But you were, so relief crashed through you so fast that you almost felt lightheaded. "So you’ll help me?"

Mattheo tilted his head, considering. "Oh, sweetheart, I was always going to help an old friend of mine. The moment you walked through my door and made this infinitely more interesting for me?" He leaned forward, his voice dropping just slightly, sending a shiver down your spine. "Enzo just became my newest problem. And I do love a good problem," he said with a playful wink.

You swallowed hard, heart pounding. You weren’t sure if you’d just made a deal with salvation — or with the devil himself. But in your desperate situation, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to care.

When you came home to your rented apartment later in the evening, where you were almost shamefully hiding from Enzo's all-seeing grab, you replayed this meeting in your head over and over again. The way Mattheo had grown up, how smug and lazily confident he was, the way his eyes changed color in the room's dimness. You quickly realized that your thoughts were going in some dangerous directions. So you shook your head in annoyance, turned on your side, and tried to sleep.

The next time you saw Mattheo Riddle, it wasn’t in the dimly lit intimacy of his office but in the cold sterility of a high-rise conference room. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the skyline behind him, the city sprawling out in golden lights as dusk settled. The room was all glass, steel, and polished surfaces — a battlefield for people who fought with words and knowledge instead of their wands.

You had expected to feel anxious, maybe even regretful about involving him, but watching him now, prowling the space with effortless confidence, you felt something else entirely.

Mattheo was in his element.

Seated at the massive conference table, you were flanked by paralegals and junior associates, people who worked for him, who hung onto his every word. They were efficient, sharp, and ruthless, but none of them commanded the room the way he did. Dressed in a crisp black suit, his tie slightly loosened, Mattheo carried an air of calculated chaos, as though he could dismantle the entire legal system with nothing but a boyish smirk and a well-placed argument.

You realized almost reluctantly that you were turned on.

By his mind. By the way he held himself. By the way he had the attention of the whole room without even trying. By the way he saw everything ten moves ahead. By the fact that, for all his showmanship, Mattheo Riddle was undeniably, inescapably brilliant.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Mattheo murmured, sliding into the chair beside you during a brief break in the discussion. His cologne was expensive and subtle, something dark, woody, and spicy that made your stomach tingle. “Second thoughts?”

You exhaled, hoping he wouldn’t catch the way your pulse jumped and your eyes were glued to him during the discussion. “No,” you said, forcing your voice to stay level. “Just observing.”

He hummed, glancing at you with something amused and knowing in his dark, onyx eyes. “And? What’s your verdict?”

You should have played it safe, should have kept your expression neutral, but instead, your mouth betrayed you, saying the next words against your will. “You’re good.”

His smirk was slow, devastating. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured smugly, his voice nothing but a smoke curling under your skin. “You have no idea.”

Your throat felt suddenly dry, making you swallow slightly. “I think,” you said carefully, not wanting to show just how much he affected you, but failing miserably, “that you might actually be worth all the fuss around you.”

Mattheo leaned forward, close enough that you could see the flicker of something dark and knowing in his gaze. “Careful, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice like silk wrapping around a blade — captivating yet dangerous — making heat pool down in your stomach. “Another praise from you, and I'll think that you might start to like me.”

You weren’t sure if it was the arrogance in his smirk or the glint in his eyes that made your skin heat, but there was something about Mattheo Riddle in his element that was utterly infuriating. And unfortunately, undeniably hot and attractive.

And in this moment, you realized with a sinking feeling that pushing those thoughts aside was going to be impossible. Because watching him like this — ruthless, brilliant, completely in control over the situation, over the room, over you.

It was maddening.

You should have been focusing on the legal strategy, on how he was about to dismantle Enzo's grip on your life. But instead, you were hyperaware of the way Mattheo thrived in this setting, his words sharp as a blade, his presence overpowering.

And worst of all? He knew it too.

Because at one point, as you shifted slightly in your seat, trying to shake off the heat curling low in your stomach and between your thighs, his eyes flicked toward you, just for a second. A knowing, dark, amused glance, like he could sense the shift in your thoughts. Like he could hear them, taste them.

That absolutely insufferable, arrogant bastard.

You cleared your throat, straightened your posture, and forced yourself to focus. This wasn’t the time. This wasn’t the place. You were here to win your freedom back, not to get distracted by the handsome man who was helping you achieve it.

But then, as Mattheo turned back to the discussion, his voice a low, smooth, lazy drawl, you had a sinking realization.

This might just be the beginning of an entirely new kind of trouble.

#mattheo riddleᯓ★#lawyer!mattheo #ugh he’s so hot I want him so badly #pizzas reqs ꨄ

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sugar-petals · 2 days ago

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every time i see him pop up on my dash i’m impressed by how taemin (who else) has debuted and effortlessly resonated in several generations of his genre and remains so bewitchingly relevant. yes i know manwhoring and the dark side of catholicism plus dissecting masculinity/femininty will never go out of fashion and he dances more compellingly than 99% of his peers and his looks never seem to change ever and he works his butt off but you know what i mean:

an inexplicable longevity. without scandal, lack of sympathy from fans, missing the mark, error, mediocrity. all while provoking thought. taemin’s ultraglittering, seductive musical staying power slash a remarkably consistent message — how on earth does he vary his aesthetic but always manages to express HIS idea?— and drive to do what he does are mysteriously singular. and it’s not just his jesus-honoring buttshaking alright. to use the first gen benchmark, without slighting either of these artists: he is the legacy and work of BOA and Rain in one. seamless even after his difficult enlistment, taemin always keeps going and going and innovating and serving looks and performing and enchanting.

i don’t mean that in a way of “tch why has taemin not fallen from grace yet?? he’s too goody-two-shoes to be true!” or “this dude must be a cash-hungry slaving robot who uses sex to sell as a sleazy capitalist trick!!”. i just sincerely think he’s done so well, everything else would be unfair and inaccurate to say. enviably, taemin really found his own thing, that inspires. it’s no surprise how every shawol/taemin fan is just on fire (and every phobic tongue that rises against him shall be hilariously ridiculed without even bothering much: i like this idgaf attitude in the fandom, it resembles him a lot lol). can’t blame anybody, one hand movement by that cheeky guy, you’re hooked.

i simply wanted to stress how taemin pulled off sticking around against the odds, being a charmed personality, and electrifying a multi-generational, multi-gender crowd and look damn sharp while doing it: even with a soft, sweet tenor voice such as his. we really have to thank jonghyun in all regards, whatever he has instilled in taemin was, and we all know that, zero percent in vain. it has given him a huge portion of that “X-factor” (or ‘T’-factor in this case lmao), in front of the camera that only the greats have, far beyond just doing ‘attempted personal branding aaand done, retired, forgotten’.

even if yes, that still contributes on the hard-to-ignore business side, SM knew how to do one thing right after all. we don’t know idols personally still, and taemin clearly found his perfect niche, giving the audience what other artists desperately cannot offer on that ‘market’, if you want to put it like that. but either way, he seems much more than the industry in a way? and MJ/Prince, for that matter, despite an obvious inspiration? like a feeling. or musing. really, how does he do it 😭

taemin’s success, fan-favorite status and concept ahead of the curve is so difficult to explain and that’s probably why people enjoy him and his work: it is curated, not calculated. i think there’s huge difference, even if the production process is the same or similar everywhere. but the way most idols are fascinated by taemin says it all basically, he’ll be talked about for decades after and always come back successfully, gaga-style. ngl taemin could never bore me (am i the only one who still positively loses it when he hits the pose? i never found it annoying, i love that shit) it’s so easy to like what he does. his enigma makes him an artist, and i hope he’ll be around for long to spread his cheeky little mischief.

TLDR; i just wanted to emphasize how awesome taemin is and got totally carried away.

#there we go a new word... if something has the t-factor it is taeminesque #taemin #shinee #jonghyun #boa #bi rain #kpop #k-pop #excuse the IDEA pun i had to sneak it in #music #music industry #lee taemin #shawol #super m #taemin appreciation central is back again hhhh

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hyunjincanraptoo · 3 days ago

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Strings

Happy 300 of us!! I love you all 💗 This was requested by @hijadeplutao. Tysm, i hope you like it 💜

Word count: 3.8k

No warnings

Alexa, play Strings by Shawn Mendes

It all started with an innocent night out.

He was a second year visual arts student, frustrated with his own creativity. You were a freshman in (your major), still adapting to university life. You were introduced by Jeongin, a mutual friend, at a party Hyunjin hadn't wanted to attend, and you were there by chance.

The atmosphere was warm and noisy, the music blending with loud conversations and scattered laughter throughout the rooms. You hadn’t planned to stay long, but Jeongin grabbed your wrist, excited, saying he wanted to introduce you to someone, “This is Hyunjin, my friend from the arts department”, he said, patting the shoulder of a boy who looked visibly uncomfortable there.

Hyunjin lifted his gaze to you, looking slightly lost, as if he'd been pulled out of a daydream. His brown hair fell over his forehead, and his lips curved into an expression that was somewhere between grumpy and bored. A red cup rested in his hand, probably filled with something that was already making him slightly tipsy. “Hey”, he murmured, offering his hand.

When your fingers touched his, an unexpected warmth passed through your skin. It wasn’t anything grand or cinematic, just a brief moment, yet a striking one. And when he finally met your eyes, something in his expression softened.

As you sipped your drink, you glanced at Hyunjin, who looked thoroughly unimpressed with the party. With a small smirk, you decided to tease him, "I bet you’re mentally ranking every person in this room from 'tolerable' to 'insufferable' right now”.

Hyunjin blinked, clearly caught off guard. His lips twitched, almost a smirk but he just tilted his head slightly, "And where do you think you rank?" he asked, voice low, curious. You shrugged, meeting his gaze without hesitation, "I’m not sure. But I think I’d like to find out”.

For the first time that night, Hyunjin looked genuinely intrigued.

Hyunjin huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he took a slow sip from his drink, "Confident, aren't you?", he muttered, studying you with a mix of amusement and skepticism. You tilted your head, pretending to consider, "Not really. Just observant”.

He raised an eyebrow, leaning against the bar, "Oh? And what exactly have you observed about me?". You tapped a finger against the rim of your glass, meeting his gaze without hesitation, "That you hate small talk but engage in it anyway. That you'd rather be anywhere else but still haven't left. And that you're trying really hard not to be interested in this conversation”.

Hyunjin exhaled sharply, a sound that wasn't quite a laugh but wasn’t annoyance either. His fingers drummed against his glass as he looked at you, really looked this time, "And what makes you think I’m interested?", he challenged, eyes dark with something unreadable.

You leaned in slightly, just enough to make it clear you weren’t intimidated, "Because if you weren’t, you would’ve already walked away”. For the first time that night, Hyunjin was the one left without a response.

He swirled his drink absentmindedly, his eyes still on you, "You’re different”. You raised a brow, tilting your head slightly, “You say that like it's a bad thing”.

He let out a soft scoff, as he studied you, "Not sure yet”. You took a slow sip of your drink, meeting his gaze without hesitation, "Well, let me know when you figure it out".

Something about the way you said it— so calm, so unaffected— made Hyunjin's grip tighten around his glass. He was used to people reacting to him, trying to impress him or push his buttons. But you? You were just standing there, unbothered, as if his presence didn’t tip the balance of the room.

You didn’t know it then, but at that moment, a part of fate had already been set.

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

The next morning, your head still felt heavy from the exhaustion of the previous night. You weren’t used to going to parties, and that one had been louder and more crowded than you had expected.

The day was calm until you heard the first loud thud coming from the apartment next door. At first, you ignored it. Maybe someone had just dropped something. But then came another. And another. Followed by the sound of furniture being dragged and then loud music echoing through the walls.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You had just moved in and didn’t know your neighbors well yet. But if that noise became a regular problem, you’d have to find a way to talk to whoever was responsible.

With that in mind, you left your room, crossed the small hallway, and knocked a few times on the door next to yours. After a few seconds, the doorknob turned. The door opened, and standing there was none other than Hyunjin.

He blinked a few times, looking just as surprised as you. His hair was a mess, lazily tied up on top of his head, and he was wearing a tank top stained with paint. “You?!”, he asked, frowning.

You crossed your arms, “I should be asking that. Are you my noisy neighbor?”. Hyunjin glanced inside his apartment, as if only now realizing the chaos he had been making. Then he looked back at you, not seeming the least bit apologetic, “I was painting” “ And did you have to bring the whole house down in the process?”.

He let out a dramatic sigh and leaned against the doorframe, “If you've ever tried painting something big, you’d know sometimes you have to move around a lot”. You narrowed your eyes, “I've never tried”. A faint smirk appeared on his lips before he shrugged, “Then I guess you can't judge me”. And without further explanation, he simply closed the door in your face.

You stood there for a moment, incredulous, before letting out a quiet chuckle. Living next to Hyunjin was going to be interesting.

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

College life led you to run into Hyunjin more often than you had expected. Sometimes in the dorm hallway, other times on campus paths. He always seemed in a hurry, shoulders tense, his expression heavy as if he were carrying the weight of the world. But every now and then, when he saw you, he would blink lightly or let out a tired smile. And for some reason, you always smiled back.

Time passed like that— quick glances and fleeting smiles amid the rush of daily life. Until exam week arrived. You were exhausted. You spent hours buried in books, trying to absorb as much as possible, but every time you started to focus, the noise from the other side of the wall yanked you out of your reading. First, it was the sound of furniture being dragged. Then, loud music. Then, loud thuds, as if something was being thrown against the wall.

That was the last straw.

With determined steps, you crossed the hallway and knocked on Hyunjin’s door, expecting yet another trivial argument about his habits. But when the door opened, your complaint died in your throat.

Hyunjin looked completely shaken. His chest was rising and falling too fast, his eyes slightly red, shining with restrained frustration. He looked angry, but at the same time, lost, disoriented. “What?”, he asked, his voice hoarse.

You hesitated, your initial anger replaced by concern, “Are you… okay?”. He blinked, as if your question had caught him off guard. Then, he let out a humorless laugh, “ What do you think?”. A heavy silence stretched between you, heavy, “Have you eaten today?”. Hyunjin frowned, “What?” “You look like you're about to pass out”, you insisted, “Have you eaten anything?”.

He didn’t answer. And the lack of a response was enough. Without thinking much, you went back to your room, grabbed some food, anything that could help, and returned to him. Hyunjin accepted without arguing, which said a lot about his state.

He sat on the couch, holding the package with some hesitation before finally starting to eat. You leaned against the kitchen counter, watching him, “Want to tell me what’s going on?”, you asked gently. Hyunjin sighed, rubbing his temples, “I can't create. Nothing I do is any good”. His voice was raw, full of frustration.

He threw his head back, staring at the ceiling as if searching for answers there, “Is it something like a creative block?”. He laughed, but it was a bitter sound, “If it were just a block… but I feel like… I don’t know, like I lost something” “But you love art, don’t you?”. He lowered his gaze to you, “More than anything. It’s my reason for living”.

The weight of those words lingered in the air. You could see the sparkle in his eyes as he said them, a light that hadn’t been there before. Even amid all his frustration, there was still passion. “ I paint better at night”, he continued, softly, “That’s when I feel most creative. The silence, the darkness… it feels like the world disappears, and it’s just me and the canvas”.

You nodded, taking in every word. For the first time, you saw beyond the grumpy exterior and the chaos he seemed to carry on his shoulders. Hyunjin wasn’t just an art student struggling with inspiration. He was someone who lived for art. Who breathed it. Who lost and found himself within colors and brushstrokes.

And for the first time, you wanted to know more. The idea came on impulse. Maybe it was because you saw Hyunjin so lost, or maybe, in some way, you just wanted to do something for him. “What if you tried seeing things differently?”, you suggested, sitting on the couch in his apartment while he stared at a blank canvas.

Hyunjin looked at you, exhausted, “ What do you mean?”. You shrugged, “Let’s go out. You need to breathe, see the world outside these four walls”. He scoffed, crossing his arms, “And what exactly am I supposed to see out there?” “Everything”.

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

That’s how it started. Small walks around the campus, aimless strolls just to notice details that seemed invisible in the rush of daily life. You made him pay attention to simple things— the golden shade of the light reflecting off windows at sunset, the way shadows danced on the ground between the leaves, how colors shifted when a cloud covered the sun.

“You sound like someone who would study art”, he commented once, half amused. “I’m just trying to remind you of what you already know”, you shot back, poking his shoulder. Hyunjin laughed, a light sound, and something in your chest warmed.

In the following days, you challenged him to try different forms of art. Photography, quick sketches without pressure, even doodling with a pencil on café napkins. He complained, saying it wasn’t good enough, but you saw the light returning to his eyes, little by little.

Then, one day, he looked at you for too long, “What?”, you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Can I draw you?”. The question caught you off guard. You blinked, hesitant, but nodded.

Hyunjin picked up his sketchbook and started drawing. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable— on the contrary, it was filled with careful attention. You could feel his eyes studying you, the pencil gliding over the paper with delicate strokes.

“You have beautiful hands”, he murmured at some point, not lifting his gaze from the paper. Your heart stumbled in your chest, but you said nothing.

And then, without you realizing it, Hyunjin started looking after you too. On the morning of your exam, he showed up at your door holding a cup of coffee, “You mentioned you had a tough exam today”, he said, handing you the coffee. Thought you might need this".

You stared at him, surprised, “You remembered” “Of course, I did”. He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but something inside you tightened in a new way.

Days passed, and Hyunjin seemed more energized. He painted more, talked more about his art, and every time he created something, you were the first person he showed it to. And the two of you grew closer. More and more.

Small touches started to feel different. When he absentmindedly tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. When your knees touched while sharing a bench on campus, and neither of you moved away. When he laughed at something you said and looked at you for too long.

Your friendship was real, but there was something else there— a spark in your chest. Something neither of you could quite name. Not yet.

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

The days followed and exams were finally over. Relief settled within you, but that day, in the midst of that calm, the rain seemed to carry a different meaning. The sound of it against your bedroom window brought an unusual feeling— an omen lingering in the air. Perhaps because it was impossible to ignore what was happening between you and Hyunjin.

You were watching a movie when the doorbell rang, breaking the silence. When you opened the door, a chill ran down your spine. Hyunjin stood there, completely soaked, his hair clinging to his face, his clothes drenched, his expression exhilarated, and his eyes glistening with something electric.

He looked like a masterpiece painted by the rain itself— drops tracing paths down his skin as if the water was part of his being. “I found… I found something!”. He spoke, his grin wide, as if he had just uncovered the secret of the universe. His excitement was contagious.

Your heart pounded at the sight of him, so alive, so intensely caught up in his emotions. Still a sudden wave of panic hit you. He was clearly unwell— his skin was pale, and he was shivering slightly. “Hyunjin, are you feeling alright?”, you said, stepping closer, your eyes scanning him with growing concern.

He blinked and shook his head, trying to dismiss your worry, “Yes, I just… I was painting. The inspiration hit me all at once, and I… I had to feel it. I had to feel the rain. It was perfect, you have no idea”. He seemed completely enchanted by the experience, but his words came out sluggish, as if he were too exhausted to speak properly.

His face was wet, his eyes shining with feverish intensity, but there was a weakness in his enthusiasm that you couldn’t ignore. Without thinking twice, you pulled Hyunjin inside, shutting the door behind you, “You’re soaking wet, and you definitely have a fever. We need to take care of this now”.

Before he could protest, you led him to the bathroom, already preparing a warm shower. You helped him remove his drenched clothes, your fingers brushing against his chilled skin, and your heart pounded harder. He was so close, and the warmth between you seemed to grow with every movement. “I don’t want to be a burden, I…”, he started, but his words were cut off by the hot water cascading over him, steam filling the space.

You helped him wash his hair, your hands moving gently, taking care of him as naturally as possible. Hyunjin stood silent for a moment, his eyes shutting as he let himself relax under your touch.

After the soothing shower, you wrapped him in a towel and went to his place to grab some dry clothes. He seemed calmer now, but the fever still clung to him. You prepared tea and gave him medicine, watching him closely, making sure he was okay.

He looked up at you with a weak smile, “I’m such a mess, aren’t I?”, he murmured, his voice low and heavy with exhaustion, as if he were being more honest than usual. “But you, Yn… you’re always here, taking care of me. I don’t know what I’d do without you”.

Your chest tightened at his words, and you didn’t respond. Instead, you just held his hand, the warmth of his skin against yours saying more than a thousand words. The space between you was no longer just friendly— it was charged with something more. Something unspoken, but undeniably.

He didn’t take long to fall asleep, his breathing turning softer, his face relaxed in a way that made him look completely at peace. And as he rested, his fingers still intertwined with yours, you realized that, once again, something inside you was changing. Something you didn’t yet understand, but that was slowly taking form.

And in that moment, with him lying there— vulnerable, safe, at ease— you knew that something more had started to grow between you. The spark was there, silent but burning.

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Hyunjin woke up slowly, his eyes adjusting to the soft light filling the room. He felt the warmth around him, comforting and safe, something he didn’t want to end.

And then, he realized.

His hand was still entwined with yours. His fingers fit perfectly against yours, as if they were meant to stay that way. He turned his head slightly, finding you lying beside him, your body relaxed in deep sleep.

Your breathing was steady, gentle. He took in the little details— the strand of hair falling across your forehead, the slight parting of your lips, the way your hand rested on the mattress, so close to his. His heart pounded faster, a strange warmth spreading through his chest.

He had never been this close to someone before, never cared so much about how someone looked while they slept. His gaze traced your features, admiring every little expression of peace you wore.

And in that quiet moment, while watching you with an intensity he didn’t fully understand, he knew. The same spark you had felt, the one that had started growing between you both, was now undeniable in his mind. He could feel it in the rhythm of his heartbeat, in every breath he took. A new feeling was blooming, and he no longer knew how to deny it.

Suddenly, your body stretched slightly, and your eyes blinked open, adjusting to the morning light. The first thing you saw was him, still beside you, still holding your hand.

Shock set in immediately. Your heart jumped, and you shifted slightly, your mind racing at the proximity. "O- oh... hi...", you mumbled, still drowsy, trying to mask your confusion. You sat up, a bit flustered from waking up so close to him, "How are you feeling?"

Hyunjin smiled softly, though he could see how flustered you were. He didn’t tease, but he also didn’t let go of your hand. His eyes, warm and thoughtful, stayed locked on yours, "Better... now that you’re completely here". His voice was soft, genuine, "Thank you... for everything, really. You're my guardian angel”.

You bit your lower lip, warmth creeping up your skin. Something about the way he looked at you, with that gratitude and affection, made your heart pound. The embarrassment of waking up next to him faded, replaced by something new. Hyunjin seemed to notice it too cause his gaze softened, and he hesitated only for a second before speaking again.

"I...", he started, but stopped, as if searching for the right words. And then, as if he had made a quiet decision, he leaned in just slightly, his eyes locked onto yours. His hand, still holding yours, remained warm and steady, "I always lose my words around you. But...", he murmured, his smile widening just a little, his gaze shimmering. "I just wanted you to know how much you mean to me”.

His words washed over you like a slow wave. There was no rush, no tension. Just the quiet understanding of a moment shared between the two of you. And then, without hesitation, without second guessing, he, slowly, gently, leaned forward, and his lips met yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It was soft, unhurried, like time could stand still right there. Like nothing else mattered. There was no urgency, just a quiet connection, a tender kiss where every movement seemed designed to last, to make the moment enough.

When your lips parted, neither of you moved away. His heart was still racing, but now, there was no more fear. No more doubt. Because now, something unspoken has settled in the air between you. The spark had become something more. And for the first time, everything felt like it was exactly where it was meant to be.

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Time passed, and everything between you changed so naturally that it was hard to remember exactly when it began. What was once just friendship had become more— more deep and impossible to ignore. The way Hyunjin looked at you had shifted or maybe it had always been that way, and only now were you truly seeing it.

And then, on that special night, he asked you to come to his final presentation, "I want you to be there”. He held your hand tightly, "It’s important to me”. You didn’t hesitate.

It was a big event, with professors, students, and guests walking through the exhibition space, admiring the works of various artists. But you couldn’t focus on anything except the anticipation of what Hyunjin had prepared.

When his turn came, your heart pounded. You knew about the creative block he had struggled with at the start of the semester. You knew how heavy the burden had been when he couldn’t create the way he wanted. But now, standing before the canvas covered with black cloth, Hyunjin took a deep breath before pulling it away to reveal his work.

And there it was.

You.

The painting was a version of you as only Hyunjin could see. Every brushstroke, every nuance, every play of light and shadow revealed just how deeply he saw you in a way no one else did. Your eyes held depth, your lips carried a serene smile, and every detail of your face was crafted with undeniable devotion.

It wasn’t just an image. It was you— captured with passion, with tenderness, with love in every stroke of his brush.

Your throat tightened, your eyes welling with tears, "Hyunjin...", you whispered, unable to say anything more.

He was already beside you. His warm hands cupped your face gently, his thumbs brushing over your skin as if making sure you were real, as breathtaking as you were on the canvas. "Do you like it?", his voice was laced with vulnerability, as if this was the most important question he had ever asked to someone.

You smiled, the tears finally spilling over, "I love it”. The light in his eyes grew impossibly brighter. And then, with no concern for the audience around you, he pulled you closer, his lips just inches from yours as he whispered, soft and intimate, a secret meant only for the two of you:

"Loving you is my safe place"

Your heart nearly stopped. But before you could respond, he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss so full of tenderness, of quiet devotion, that it spoke all the words he didn’t need to say.

And there, in his arms, standing before the living proof of the love Hyunjin felt for you, you knew.

You were his art.

The thing he lived for.

If you enjoyed it please consider liking and reblogging. Feedbacks, loves notes and requests are very much appreciated 😊

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gabriella-arareyes · 1 day ago

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Reasons why I absofuckinglutely loved First Frost:

Okay, it's 1 a.m., and I just finished First Frost. I need to unload all my emotions, thoughts, reviews—everything—because there’s a LOT.

First of all, it has been a hot minute since I’ve enjoyed a Chinese drama this much. But First Frost reminded me why I love East Asian dramas in the first place. It pulled me in, chewed me up, and spat me out in the best way possible.

And since I’m now a full-fledged adult (ugh), I no longer have my childhood bestie to call on our landline at 2 a.m. to scream about a new drama. So here I am, dumping my thoughts onto the internet instead.

Reasons why I absofuckinglutely loved First Frost:

1. Wen Yifan is NOT your average female lead. She’s layered, mysterious, and in my opinion, the series's hero. Sang Yan, while being the main male lead, honestly felt more like her love interest. We see everything through her lens, and unlike many dramas where the male lead gets all the depth, First Frost had its focus on our complex female lead.

Sang Yan? We know a little bit about his character—but we don’t really get to know him beyond his role in Wen Yifan’s life. And honestly? I find that dynamic super refreshing.

2. People say Wen Yifan is "boring"— IMO: she’s real. Some might say she’s too quiet or reserved, but that’s what makes her character so compelling. She had died so many times in her lifetime through numerous heartbreaks at such a young age, so I don't think it's very fitting to see a typical bubbly female lead.

If there’s a sun in this drama, it’s Sang Yan (don't let his cold demeanor fool you, he is actually very warm).

3. Wen Yifan standing up to her mother was everything. As a Filipino, I understand how deep family ties run. But I also know that family is more than just blood—it’s about who actually shows up for you. So when Wen Yifan didn’t just blindly forgive her mother for being her mother, that was one of the most satisfying moments in the entire series.

<<SPOILER ALERT>> Wen Yifan cutting off her mom? BADASS. And completely justified. Asian culture often pushes the narrative of the ever-filial child, but this drama made an important statement: Parents have a duty to their children, too.

4. The plot is THICC. It’s not just romance. Not only do we get the layered, slow-burn romance between Wen Yifan and Sang Yan (which, by the way, is the epitome of first love-to-mature love evolution), but this drama also tackles:

Family issues (Wen Yifan’s mom, Su Haoan’s family struggles)

Sexual harassment (Subplot of a crime, can you believe it?)

The reality of enduring love is not all butterflies and roses. It goes through pain, patience, and healing before it can stand the test of time.

It’s a deep, emotionally rich story with multiple subplots that actually get proper resolution (a rarity in dramas, let’s be real).

5. Their time apart was NECESSARY Yes, it hurts that they didn’t date for six years. But let’s be honest—if they had, they wouldn’t have grown into the people they needed to be for each other. Their separation made their reunion even stronger, and it set them up for a long and enduring love with lots of understanding and deep connection.

6. Su Haoan & Zhong Siqiao? Adorable!!! Their relationship added just the right amount of fluff when things got too emotionally heavy. There are times when I look forward to watching these two, because I can't wait to see how their love story unfolds.

7. The intimacy was perfectly done. Not over the top, not underwhelming—just right. Through their long embrace and sweet (and hot) kisses, you can feel their yearning for each other after being apart for 6 years. ALSOO DARE I SAY, by East Asian drama standards? Those make-out scenes were intense. Bless.

8. I was on my toes the whole timeee!! The ending tied up every loose thread beautifully. No plot holes, no random forgotten side stories (we are fully aware that other dramas introduce subplots just to ghost them).

9. The acting? EXQUISITE. Bai Jing Ting and Zhang Ruo Nan understood the assignment. Bai Jing Ting’s micro-expressions are on point! Specifically, I love how his eyebrows are very expressive. While our girl Zhang Ruo Nan’s ability to embody Wen Yifan's quiet, reserved, shy, but also assertive demeanor is just chef's kiss!

10. The OST? Absolute banger.

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

The story does not end yet:

I just found out that First Frost is a spin-off of Hidden Love! Which makes SO much sense because I knew there was something familiar about Sang Zhi and Duan Jiaxu. And now? I need to:

✔ Read the First Frost and Hidden Love novels ✔ Watch Hidden Love ✔ Read the First Frost manhua (Eternal Love)

So yeah. I am deep in this rabbit hole now, and I have no regrets.

10/10. Would spiral into obsession again.

Wen Shuangjiang, don't you get it? After all these years, I still only like you.

The First Frost 难哄 (2025) dir. by Chu Yu Ning [upcoming]

#first frost #the first frost #cdrama #bai jingting #zhang ruonan #edward chen #zhang miaoyi #sang yan #wen yifan #I am just a fan that can't get over how beautiful First Frost it #I don't know how else to cope

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kukustreehouse · 3 days ago

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MAYBE ITS FATE?

・❥・Shin Asakura x reader

{VERY SHORT AND VERY AWKWARD >_<}

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Business was slow today.

But to be fair, it was a rainy monday.

Lu was asleep somewhere and Sakamoto stepped out with his family for a bit. So, with no customers coming in and no one to talk to, Shin occupied his time by watching the raindrops race each other. Eventually, that got boring, so he made paper airplanes out of any paper he could find; post-it notes, regular paper, even old flyers.

The more the time ticked, the more he felt his motivation leave his body. He felt like he was a kid again stuck at the lab to do whatever minus the people he could bother. A sigh escaped his mouth before he leaned against the wall behind the cash register, eyes closed.

‘Oh, a convenience store, perfect!’

Swiftly, he opened his eyes and returned to his typical spot. It was about time he got something to actually do. The moment you walked in was the moment he questioned everything about himself, from inside and out. His sight was glued onto your every move. Anyone else would assume you’re stealing something by how much he stared! But honestly, could you blame him? The way how your h/c hair still managed to look flawless in this kind of weather, your sense in fashion, your beautiful s/c skin. Everything about you caught his full attention.

When you finished picking out your items, you approached him with a small smile on your face; greeting him with a soft “Hello!” as you placed the items down on the counter. He blinked before turning red.

“A-Ah, hey! My bad, I uh, spaced out!” he stammered. You laughed gently, reassuring him that you didn't take offense. As he rang up your things, you took a peek at the downpour outside.

“Gloomy day we’re having huh?” you added to the conversation.

He placed his hand on the back of his neck before chuckling.

“Geez, tell me about it…” He sighed, “And it’s a monday too, just horrible!”

You laughed again. ‘I’m glad I stopped by here, this guy is making my day much better…and he’s cute.’ You thought to yourself as you watched him put your things in a bag. Shin became flustered again. Gosh he felt like a pot boiling over! An attractive person- heavensent probably, complimenting him.

“Hopefully your day gets better.” He sputtered out, trying to keep his cool as he slid the bag to you.

“How much do I pay?”

“Ah, right! It’s 10 dollars.”

You huffed out of adoration. As you took out your wallet to hand him the money, you silently cringed at your impulsive thoughts;

‘What if I gave him my phone number then leave? That would be weird…I wouldn’t wanna make him uncomfortable… a guy like him probably has a lover already.’

That was when you remembered.

“Wait, you told me you hoped my day would get better- How’d you know my day was bad?”

Shin gulped. Sweat began racing down his face and he failed to hold eye contact. He was selling! How embarrassing. There's no coming back from this one, huh?

“Your tone kinda gave it away…it sounded as if you were forcing it to be mellow.” he explained off the top of his head (Which was complete bullshit. It was either that or come out as a clairvoyance.)

‘My tone..? Is it really that obvious?’ you shook it off, putting your questions behind you and focusing on the real world; storing your wallet back where it came from and getting ready to say your goodbyes.

Shin went to war with his mind. There was no way he was gonna stand by and let someone like you walk away without his contacts!

“You know, I would love to see you more,” He called out. You turned around to see him writing with a pen on a post it note, before holding it out for you. “Here’s my number, call me sometime, ‘kay?”

Truly, you were at a loss for words. At this point, you had a face of a barbie doll with how long your smile was staying on your face.

“Will do!” You chirped, promptly taking the post it note and putting it in your pocket. After you left, Shin let out an exhale of relief, smirking to himself as he thought about you.

“Man, Sakamoto would be proud.”

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

#sakamoto days #shin asakura #sakamoto days shin #sakamoto days x reader #sakamoto days x you #short story #shin asakura x reader #gender neutral reader #fluff #this is cringe #so sorry

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em-harlsnow · 3 days ago

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god don’t you love it when writers just can’t make a character go away. like they were planning on getting rid of mickey forever in season 6 and they did that by:

- giving ian either awful (caleb) or boring (sorry trevor) love interests

- having ian say ‘i miss mickey, but this new guy’s nice’ to mandy as if that isn’t such a huge sign that ian’s still into him

- having ian talk about mickey like all the time when he was with caleb (okay, i know it was only in two scenes and he said some rlly mean things, but it was still clear ian was comparing all his new relationships to mickey OUT LOUD like an idiot)

- having mandy come back as if she’s not like a direct reminder of mickey (obvs she’s also important as a character alone, without mickey involved, but still)

it just makes me laugh, because they wanted people to stop caring about mickey but they did it in the absolute worst ways

#shameless #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #ian x mickey #shameless opinions #shameless us

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pythonmoth · 17 hours ago

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more of cannibal!Simon bc im in love w him. @madsdawson you ask, and I shall deliver ♡

Simon wouldn't waste time and would prepare the best recipes with the spices you get him. he mixes them just perfectly so he can leave a little glass container in scene for you, knowing you'll take pretty pictures, and oh how he loves to see when you post them! ah, you're so silly.

he's getting a little bored of watching you from afar, a few steps ahead of you whenever you tried to meet him. but even then, you're never discouraged, always so happy to see the little treats he leaves for you, discreet notes telling you who what you're eating.

and then the curiosity gets to him.

one day when you're placing a little package of your favorite salted veggies on his porch so he can try them, the door opens and you nearly trip in your haste to step away. looking at him is just too much of a privilege! you wouldn't dare, not yet! but Simon's smiling down at you, his eyes glistening with amusement.

"I was expecting you. Come on in".

"This... is not our agreement" you mumble, but the excitement is just too much, so you follow him into his home.

it smells so nice, clean, filled with love and warmth; freshly baked bread and wine, the cologne you can recognize from the murder scenes dates, and garlic, so much garlic.

you aren't even dressed properly, gosh! You were just going home from work so now you're sweaty and unworthy of such delicacies, and it makes you pout.

but really, silly you, you don't have to worry about such things. Simon knew you were coming, he was following you this morning and has your routine memorized anyway, so he had a beautiful outfit prepared just for you. fits like a glove! (he's always closer than you think!

ah, to be sitting next to him, gorgeous and matching his silky shirt, and a feast in front of you! simon's spoiling you so much.

and when he hears you talk, listens to you as you tell him how you've been inspired, how you've been taking notes and that now you're able to identify the emotions the person was going through when he hunt them, simon's soooo touched.

obviously, he offers to teach you all he knows! but with one condition, only: you can't have anybody else in your life, or they'll be the next meal on your plate.

and so, you take out your notes and show him the list of things people close to you have done wrong so he can teach you identity which ones are only pigs ♡

› buy me a coffee ♡

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lovesickchoi · 21 hours ago

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100 WAYS TO LEAVE A LOVER ❥ KTH

⋆·˚ ༘ * prince taehyun of the kang kingdom wanders outside the palace every night to escape his life of royalty. what he doesn’t expect is to meet the love of his life beyond the palace’s borders, which only serves to further fuel his hatred of the throne.

pairing: prince!taehyun x villager!reader ✮⋆˙✐ 16.7k

genre: royal au, angst, smut, loosely inspired by jackson wang’s ‘100 ways’ music video, slight romeo and juliet adaption warnings: multiple mentions of death, suicide, execution, blood, weapon possession, pleasure top!taehyun, oral f!receiving, praise kink, unprotected sex, happy(ish) ending if you squint notes: this is not intended to romanticize suicide whatsoever. also, i recommend watching the music video before reading. the song is so good and the visuals are a great way to set the scene! click here to watch it. also want to mention @luvsicktyun for the amazing help with the color grandients!! ˚₊ · »-♡→ masterlist

Taehyun wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place. This he knew, but he could never bring himself to care enough. Walking amongst the common people was far too invigorating for him compared to the monotony of his every day. It generated a sort of excitement in him that he couldn’t necessarily experience inside the kingdom he was bound to rule someday. Typically, he was careful when sauntering the busy streets of the outer village. But as dusk fell, it was fairly empty save for a few merchants beginning to pack their goods up for the night. He no longer felt the need to conceal his identity, removing the hood of his cloak and letting it fall around his neck for the first time. His eyes fluttered closed for but a moment, letting the gentle breeze fan against his skin as he toyed with the necklace resting over his tunic. Just moments ago, he’d been strolling through the quaint village market, curiosity guiding his steps as he took in the colorful displays and loud haggling. It wasn’t until he noticed a commotion near one of the fishmongers’ stalls that his attention sharpened. You had been caught in a dispute with a gruff merchant who insisted you were trying to steal one of his prized catches. You argued back, voice steady but eyes flashing, making it clear you had paid him fairly. But the merchant wasn’t hearing any of it, his stubbornness only escalating the tension. Taehyun intervened before things could get worse, tossing a few coins at the merchant and taking the fish himself. The merchant grumbled but accepted the payment, leaving you to glower at the prince now standing smugly before you. He couldn’t deny his amusement at how your scowl only darkened realizing who he was. The fish merchant hurriedly bowed in acknowledgment of royalty, but you refused to so much as incline your head, defiant against what all subjects were expected to do. Even so, he placed the fish in your hands, which you accepted with minimal grace before shoving it into your bag. “I had it under control,” you grumble, keeping your eyes low. “You call that having things under control?” Taehyun teased. “But I’ll take that as a thank you.” “Thank you so much, Your Highness.” you flash an ignorant smile, the twinge of sarcasm in your voice not going unnoticed. Taehyun found your defiance incredibly endearing. “So, what’s royalty like you doing out here so late at night?” He's taken aback by your question. Taehyun was not accustomed to someone speaking to him so carelessly and casually. He was eager to continue the conversation with perhaps the most breathtaking person he’d seen in the kingdom yet. His shoulders shrug. “The palace gets boring. Sometimes you just need to get away.” You feign a gasp, hand against your chest in pretend shock. “Of course, your golden palace with hundreds of rooms filled with endless food and things to do must be so uneventful.” Your animosity toward royalty had Taehyun’s eyebrows furrowing. “Anyway, it was nice talking to you, Your Highness.” You spin on your heels, abruptly putting an end to the conversation. You've had enough of royalty for one day. About to head in the opposite direction, Taehyun hastily grabs your wrist to stop you. “Wait!” his voice was filled with urgency. Expectantly, you look up at him in annoyance. “You can’t tell anyone that I was here. I’m not allowed to leave the palace.” “I’ll think about it,” you half-joked, though there was no denying the curiosity he sparked. His grip around your hand loosened before dropping to his side, and you felt a pang of disappointment at the loss of contact. It was strange how speaking with the kingdom’s beloved prince felt as ordinary as chatting with any other commoner. “I’m serious." He refused to break eye contact. "Nobody can know.” There was an undeniable panic in his voice, and you decided to let your defense down for the moment, nodding in reassurance. “Thank you-” Taehyun stopped, not knowing what to call you. You finished the sentence for him, your name confidently rolling off your tongue.

He repeated your name softly, and you had to admit it sounded better coming from his lips. “I’ll have to find a way to repay you.” Taehyun offered you a kind smile which you returned genuinely time.

“You could promise to buy me more fish.” you beamed at him childishly, tugging on the strap of your bag.

“I think that can be arranged.” a smirk splayed across his mouth, knowing you weren’t serious. “And call me Taehyun.”

“I think I prefer Your Highness.” With that, you spun on your heel and hurried down the dirt path, leaving Taehyun rooted where he stood. He watched contentedly as your figure faded into the darkness, pulling his hood back over his head. Staying out any longer would undoubtedly cause problems for him back home, but he could hardly care. After all, the only thing occupying his thoughts on the trek back to the palace was you—the strangely enigmatic, fearless girl from the village he desperately hoped to meet again.

Taehyun was not one to break his promises.

There he stood, leaning against the well in the quiet, shadowed emptiness of the village. It was a small town, so Taehyun prayed it wouldn’t be too difficult to find you again. He was right, of course, a quiet satisfaction lighting up his eyes as they followed your figure through the darkness. You, however, were oblivious to his presence. With your head constantly scanning the surroundings, your eyes sharp and focused, you moved with purpose toward the well, oblivious to who might be trailing behind. Taehyun, cloaked in his dark attire with his hood obscuring most of his face, called your name. It quickly proved to be a terrible idea on his part. Without thinking, your fist shot out, landing hard against Taehyun’s shoulder. He hadn’t expected you to be so strong—much stronger than you appeared. By the time you realized it was him, it was almost too late. Your punch nearly sent him tumbling into the well, but just in time, you grabbed his arm and yanked him back toward you. Once he was steady, you shoved him away in irritation. “Are you insane?” you shouted. “You’re asking if I’m insane? You almost sent me down a well!” Taehyun shouted back, rubbing his now sore shoulder. As much as you wanted to stay mad at him, you simply couldn’t. Not with those doe eyes staring back at you as he winced in pain. You knew you had a strong arm, and you felt especially guilty noticing the bag of fish he held tightly in his opposite hand. Rolling your eyes in obvious defeat, you sigh and take his wrist in your hand. “Come with me.” You give Taehyun no choice but to follow you, dragging him along the path that would eventually lead to your home. It was a quaint living space just large enough for four people. Much smaller than what Taehyun was used to, of course. You were self-conscious of how Taehyun's eyes scaled every inch of your cottage. The feeling of your place being scrutinized had a faint heat rising to your cheeks, but you didn't know that Taehyun wanted to savor the space in his mind. He’d never had the opportunity to see anything like it, considering all he’d ever known was the palace. This felt more like a home than his own chambers. "You can have a seat,” you glanced in his direction. “Sorry, I know it’s not exactly what you’re used to.” “Don’t be. I think it’s lovely.” Taehyun's smile made your heart skip a beat for the first time, and you knew he was being honest with you. He sat down, placing down the bag of fresh fish. He watched you retrieve some ice wrapped in an old rag from the kitchen, taking a seat next to him. “Take your cloak off," you demanded. Taehyun hesitated at your instruction before removing the cloak he used to hide his identity in the village. Goosebumps rose on his skin as you helped him remove one arm from his tunic sleeve. He thought your touch was gentle and steady. You carefully pushed the sleeve up over his shoulder, glancing down his now partially revealed bare chest—his necklace falling against his skin. Clearing your throat after staring just a beat too long, you gently pressed the ice against the green and blue bruise already blooming on his skin. Taehyun hissed at the sudden chill, his hand instinctively covering yours as you held the ice in place. “Sorry for punching you," you spoke up.

Taehyun chuckled at your cute apology. “Don't worry. I guess I did sneak up on you.”

It was quiet again for a moment while you moved the ice around on his shoulder, the proximity between you two becoming a distraction. Your eyes were trained on the task at hand, doing your best to ignore Taehyun’s burning stare. Unable to take the silence much longer, you shift your gaze to the fish on the table. “You didn’t have to actually buy me more food.”

His eyes remained on your face. “I wanted to. I can get as much food as you need. I am royalty after all,” he finishes with a sly remark, emphasis on the word royalty.

“Yeah, well you’re a royal pain in my ass.” you retort.

“Okay, just stop.” Taehyun took the ice from your hand and set it on the table before standing abruptly, forcing you to scoot back in your chair, the wood creaking under the sudden movement. “What is all this anger you have toward royalty? Can you just... explain it to me?”

You tensed at the question. His tone wasn’t defensive, but the subject alone was enough to leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

“My parents,” you replied, voice colder than the ice he’d just set down. “I have them to thank for my hatred of royalty.”

“Your parents?” Taehyun echoed, confusion creasing his brow. He wanted more than anything to understand you. “But they’re not even here. right now."

Emotions boiling over, you stepped forward, your face mere inches from Taehyun’s. “Maybe it’s because your precious royal family had them executed. Maybe that’s why."

Taehyun’s mouth opened, but no words followed. The weight of your admission hung heavy between you, the truth settling like stone. His gaze softened as he noticed the way your jaw clenched, desperately trying to hold yourself together. The way your lip trembled, bitten hard to stop any more words from breaking free, stirred something painful within him.

“I’m... I’m really sorry. I didn’t know,” he said quietly, his voice filled with sincerity and regret.

You were confused. Taehyun was royalty incarnate, but something about him allowed you to let your walls down. All at once, you let the tears spill over your eyes—completely vulnerable in front of the crowned prince of all people. You were supposed to hate him, despise him and everything he represented. But how could you when he wrapped his arms around you so tenderly, letting your body settle against his as you cried for the first time in months over your family?

He could feel the way you trembled against him, the shakes fueled by both sorrow and rage. Resting his chin gently on top of your head, he hesitated before voicing his question, his tone cautious. “Why were they executed?”

Your ear remained pressed to his chest, where his heartbeat quickened—whether from nerves or guilt, you couldn’t tell. But you sensed his hesitation, the uncertainty of whether he should pry further into the tragedy of your parents’ deaths.

“My brother was killed in battle fighting for this kingdom. A year ago today.” Your words were slow, carefully measured, as if the wrong tone might shatter your composure. “He was so young, forced to fight against his will. That’s when my parents realized just how little the palace truly cares about its people. If you’re not living within those palace walls, your life means nothing to them.”

Taehyun clung to every word, his chest tightening with guilt and sympathy. “What did your parents do then?” he asked gently.

“After my brother’s death, they couldn’t stay silent. They started speaking out, warning the village of the palace’s corruption—how they forced children from their homes to fight in wars, how they stole from the poor to maintain their own luxury. Word was spreading quickly, and people were starting to listen.” You swallowed hard, your voice straining against the emotions welling up. “But before they could gain any real momentum... the guards came. They broke into our home and killed my parents right in front of me.”

Taehyun opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off, determined to finish your story before your courage wavered.

“And that—” you aggressively wiped away the last tear that stained your rosy cheeks, falling back into your chair with a thump. “—is why I hate royalty. And why I hate that stupid insignia you wear around your neck.”

That was the moment your entire facade clicked for Taehyun. The wall you put up every time he was around—it was a result of everything you had endured. You’d seen too much, and Taehyun’s face was a cruel reminder of all the heartache you’d been through.

Taehyun’s next words catch you off guard. Maybe it’s because you’d half-expected him to defend his kingdom, to uphold the image of his people. Instead, he sits across from you, his tone low and sincere.

“Your brother’s death wasn’t in vain, and your parents were incredibly admirable. They did what was right, and my people took that from this village. I know it might not mean much coming from me, but I’m truly sorry for what happened to you.”

For a moment, it hit you. Despite being a prince, Taehyun wasn’t much different from the common people you knew. He seemed more like someone who shared your struggles than someone who ruled over them. “Why are you so different from your snobby royal counterparts, Your Highness?” The sarcasm slipped out before you could stop it.

You had Taehyun grinning from ear to ear, his shoulder pain completely forgotten at this point. He liked this side of you—your resilience. “It’s not that hard to see through the kingdom’s lies, even from the inside.”

“Is that why you escape that place to come here every chance you get?” Taehyun’s smile falters. He forgot that his time here with you wasn’t his reality. It was reaching the darkest point of the night, and he would have to return to the palace soon before people started to notice his absence.

“It’s nice experiencing life outside of what I’ve grown accustomed to. Every day is the same, and it’s suffocating.” Taehyun heaved a long sigh, running a hand through his hair before fixing his sleeve and throwing his cloak back over his shoulders. “But that’s a story for another day.”

You stood with Taehyun as he flipped the hood back over his head, walking him toward the entrance of your home. “Are you implying that I’ll be seeing you again?”

Taehyun’s heart fluttered, and yours did too when he stopped, turning back to look at you. He longed for nothing more than to see you over and over. “Do you want to see me again?”

“Perhaps I do.”

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest with a smirk. “I thought you hated royalty.”

“I absolutely do,” you shot back. “But someone has to show you what life is like outside the palace. Who better than me, Your Highness?”

Taehyun gave you one last dazzling smile, his eyes lighting up before he excused himself, jogging back toward the bright lights of the palace, the glow casting a stark contrast to the dark village streets.

It was true that you’d be seeing Taehyun again, and not just once.

Every night at the same time, Taehyun appeared at your front door, and each time he came bearing food and other treats as a thank you for welcoming him into your home.

But it was never the generous gifts that brought you unexplainable joy—it was Taehyun’s company that gave purpose to your days. Every morning when you woke up, you found yourself counting down the hours until he would be knocking at your door.

You couldn’t remember how exactly you’d become so close to Taehyun, but now, you struggled to recall what life was like before meeting him. Months had passed with him woven into your daily routine, a newfound comfort you hadn’t realized you’d needed until now.

Tonight, like most nights, Taehyun had stayed longer than usual. You sat side by side on your bed, the quiet between you comfortable. Somewhere along the way, it became more than just visits—it became the highlight of your day.

Taehyun shifted slightly, his hand brushing against yours. The touch lingered for a moment before he broke the silence. “Where are we headed today?” he asked, his voice soft but edged with concern.

You looked over at him, the weight of your past sitting heavily on your chest. “I thought we could visit where my parents are buried.” You lowered your gaze, but Taehyun gently took your hand in his, his fingers idly tracing the lines of your palm. “It’s in the forest beyond the kingdom’s borders. They stopped letting anyone go there, so I haven’t visited their grave since they were—” Your words faltered, but Taehyun understood, his grip tightening just a little.

“It seems pretty risky. We could get caught,” Taehyun said with caution.

You looked away, suddenly uncomfortable. “I know, it’s stupid. We don’t actually have to go.”

“Hey,” Taehyun said softly, lifting your chin with a finger to meet his gaze. “I never said I didn’t want to go. I just said it would be risky, so we need to be extra careful. I’ll follow your lead.”

You bit your lip, fighting back a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Taehyun stood up, offering his hand to you. “We should go now.” He gently pulled you to your feet. You grabbed your coat, throwing it over your shoulders before stepping outside. Together, you walked toward the forest—the place you thought you’d never return to.

The road you followed weaved between different shacks within the village, the forest coming into your view after some walking. You could see the way the road abruptly ended, nothing but dirt and leaves scattering the open area, signaling that you had reached the town's borders. A chain-link fence stretched along the dirt road, disappearing into the distance. The metal gleamed, still fresh from its recent installation just a few months ago. It completely enclosed the forest, serving as a clear barrier to deter anyone considering defying the kingdom’s orders and venturing into the tree line.

The fence wasn’t very tall. Anybody could climb over it if they really wanted to, but that didn’t negate the fact that you were much shorter than Taehyun. This became clear as you approached the fence, now staring directly up at it.

You flinched feeling two hands come in contact with your waist, swatting them away and turning to look back at Taehyun with an amused look. “What are you doing?”

“I’m giving you a lift so you can grab the fence a little higher.” Taehyun was defensive but entertained by your reaction. “Is that okay?”

“Oh,” Nodding your head, you turn back to face the fence. “Good idea. Thanks.” You didn’t flinch the next time his hands met your waist, much more firm this time. In fact, your heart raced feeling his touch against you with his chest gently pressed against your back.

"Ready?" you hum softly in response, barely catching your breath as he used his strength to lift you onto the fence.

You quickly latched onto it with your hands and feet, shrieking when your foot slipped. Regaining your balance, you tried to steady yourself. "Shhh!" Taehyun whispered urgently, his eyes wide with concern, worried that your shout would alert anyone nearby.

“Don’t shush me,” you angrily whisper back. “I almost fell!”

“Then be more careful!” Taehyun began trekking up the fence close behind you. Swinging your leg up over the top of the fence, you jump down and land successfully on the other side. Taehyun was right next to you a few moments later. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped seeing the way your eyes glazed over, looking out into the dense forest. Taehyun wanted to pull you away from whatever reminiscent thoughts were crossing through your head, so he gently laced his fingers with yours and pulled you forward. “Lead the way.”

You glanced at Taehyun, whose eyes were already fixed on you. Having him by your side eased the burden of this trip. It gave you the strength to ascend deep into the woods, your legs automatically walking you in the direction of your parents' grave as if you’d been there yesterday.

Fear pulsed through your veins as you walked hand in hand with Taehyun. Though the pitch-black night made it nearly impossible for anyone to find you, you couldn’t shake the memory of what happened to your family. If caught crossing the village boundary, you knew it would only take one mistake to meet the same tragic end.

"We're here," you whispered, snapping out of your grim thoughts. Two stones stood to mark their graves, wilted leaves scattered across the mounds of dirt. The sight was bleak and neglected, a reflection of the kingdom’s indifference to the deaths of two so-called traitors. Taehyun let go of your hand, stepping back as you kneeled before the stones, ignoring the dirt now staining your clothes.

Taehyun propped himself up against a tree, watching you rid the area of the leaves, doing what you could to clean the forlorn graves. He smiles sadly as you sit back on your heels, looking defeated. Your mouth begins moving silently, most likely speaking to your parents, Taehyun assumed.

He deemed the scene too private for him to watch, instead scoping the area for fresh flowers to place down.

It goes on like this for some time before you raise your head up, urgently searching for Taehyun as you’d momentarily forgotten about him. “I’m here.” Taehyun reappears next to you, his voice reassuring. “Are you alright?”

You look with glassy eyes from the dirt back to Taehyun. “Honestly, I’m not sure. But I needed this.”

“I brought these.” Taehyun pulls a bunch of colorful flowers from his pocket as he kneels down close to you. They were beautiful—enough to have you wondering how long you must’ve been in your own world for Taehyun to gather such a perfect collection. “I thought these would help liven things up here.”

You couldn't summon the strength to take the flowers from Taehyun’s hand. Sensing your delay, he took it upon himself to scatter them around the stones. Your eyes followed his every movement, captivated by the delicacy of his actions. Every decision, every gesture he made was so selfless and reassuring—but it made no sense to you.

Taehyun continued speaking as he arranged the flowers, entirely absorbed by the task at hand. “I never told you this, but this necklace was my mother’s.” When he was satisfied with the arrangement, he gently pulled at the collar of his tunic, reaching inside to reveal the necklace. “My mother hated the palace, despised everything the insignia represented. Just like you.” His voice softened as he gazed at the jewelry, his eyes filled with sorrow. “She gave it to me, made me promise to never fall for the kingdom's lies—and to never follow in my father’s footsteps.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I’ve worn it every day since, even after she passed.”

The air noticeably shifted after Taehyun's confession. It made your head snap up from the ground, looking at the way his eyes reflected equal parts pain and joy at the memory. “Taehyun, I had no idea. I'm so sorry”

“It’s okay. She’s in a better place now. Just one more thing you and I have in common.” Taehyun chuckled to himself, looking up to meet your eyes briefly before looking back at the necklace.

“We can talk about something else if you’d like,” you suggested.

Taehyun hesitated, his mouth slightly parted like he wasn’t sure if he should say what’s on his mind. In any case, he persisted.

“Well, there’s an old myth they tell in the palace. My mother used to share stories about it all the time.” He spoke softer than usual, as though any louder and the moment would break. He seemed to be using the story to keep himself distracted, his words flowing more easily now.

“Mmhm,” you hummed, encouraging him to continue. Without thinking, you edged closer to him, your body unconsciously drawn to him as he spoke.

“An old legend says that two lovers were buried together in this very forest. When the boy died, the girl was devastated. They were madly in love, and she wept over his grave for weeks on end.” He tucked his necklace back into his shirt, his voice becoming more reflective. “The gods, moved by her endless sorrow, took pity on her. They brought him back to life in exchange for her suffering. The myth behind the legend says that only the tears of the deceased’s true love can bring them back, but just for a moment.” Taehyun paused, placing the last flower down and wiping his hands on his pants. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, now that I think about it. It probably doesn’t help you. But… it’s a beautifully tragic story.”

"How do you always seem to know the right thing to say?" You spoke quickly, unable to take your eyes off him.

Taehyun shrugged, looking away for a moment. "I was just rambling, really."

You cut him off again. "No, I mean it. All I want to do is hate you and your stupid royal blood, but I can’t. I look at you, talk to you, and everything just… feels right. And I don’t know why."

Taehyun raised an eyebrow, his lips twisting into a smirk. "So, you don’t hate me?"

You sighed, feeling a wave of frustration and confusion. His gaze was intense, and your heart beat faster than you'd like. "I hate that I don’t hate you."

In an instant, Taehyun's lips were attached to yours, his hands holding your face gently. It was as if all the emotions he’d been holding back after spending every day with you for the past several months had finally reached their breaking point.

He couldn’t ignore his connection to you any longer. Neither could you as you kissed him back without a second thought, wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling his body impossibly closer to yours.

Taehyun pulled away for a moment, resting his forehead against your own while you looked at each other with the same goofy smile. For the first time in a long time, you were happy. He drew his bottom lip between his teeth, breathing you in. “I’m in love with you.”

He anticipated your reply, holding his breath until you responded with an even more fervorous kiss. Strong hands held your waist against him, tilting his head as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

It was a while before you both reluctantly pulled away, Taehyun cutely nudging your nose with his while he held you tight. You finally say the words aloud. “I’m in love with you too, Your Highness.”

“Prince Taehyun. Your presence is requested by the King.” A palace guard peered into Taehyun’s chambers unannounced, prompting an irritated eye roll from the prince. He was dressed in his royal attire, hair neatly styled—such a far cry from the dark clothing and cloak he’d grown accustomed to wearing during his secret visits to you. The formalities of palace life felt increasingly suffocating compared to the freedom he found beyond the castle walls with you.

You.

You were the only thought playing through his mind day in and day out. This distraction had often gotten him into trouble during important meetings concerning the kingdom. His mind would drift away from political discussions, lost instead in the memory of your lips against his, the gentle touch of your hands grazing his neck, and the soothing melody of your voice recounting your day.

Taehyun thanked the servant, excused himself, and walked down the large hallway that led to the main hall where his father, the King, was perched on his throne. He looked at Taehyun rather expectantly, almost disappointed. It was a look that was hard to miss. Taehyun halted a few feet away, bowing respectfully at a ninety-degree angle. “Prince Taehyun,” his father's tone was unsettling. “I’ve been waiting to see you.”

“My apologies, father. I won’t keep you waiting again.” Taehyun stood up straight, looking into the King's eyes. “What did you call me for?”

“You've been acting strange for the past month.” The harshness in the King’s voice made Taehyun’s chest tighten. Conversations with his father were never easy, but this one made him fearful. “You’re distracted, lackadaisical. These are not the characteristics of a crowned prince.”

Taehyun’s heart lodged itself in his throat, but he forced his expression to remain stoic.

“You and I both know I won’t be around much longer. Soon, you will be in charge of this kingdom. But people are starting to notice how absent you’ve been. Tell me, Taehyun, do you even want to be King?”

“Yes, of course I do father.” Taehyun lied through his teeth—the promise he made to his mother ringing in his ears. The last thing Taehyun wanted was to rule over this god-forsaken place.

“Then start acting like it.” The King didn’t look so convinced, and Taehyun mentally cursed himself for it. “I’ve arranged for you to meet the princess of the neighboring Choi kingdom. You will need a queen to help you lead this palace. Someone who will align your focus. Someone to help you make the hard decisions.” You were the only one who could do that for him. It was you who made him see so clearly, Taehyun thought. “I’ve spoken with their King already and we will be planning your wedding to happen within the next week.”

Taehyun felt his whole world crumbling around him. It’d been nearly two weeks since he'd confessed his love for you, and already things were slipping through the cracks. “But father-”

“I don’t want to hear another word out of you.” The King’s tone was cold, final. “This is what’s necessary. And once you take the throne, your first act will be to strengthen the guard presence around the village. We can’t risk another… incident. The kingdom’s been far too lenient with traitors and their offspring.” His gaze darkened. “I won’t have another embarrassment like those fools who dared defy me—what were their names again? Ah, yes. The rebels with the cowardly daughter still skulking around the village.”

Taehyun had never hated someone so much in his entire life. The skin of his knuckles whitened from how tightly his fists clenched. He wanted nothing more than to make his father regret ever speaking of you and your family in such a vile way.

Never in his life had Taehyun practiced so much restraint. There was nothing he could do. If the King ever knew his son was sneaking out of the palace every night to see some commoner, especially the daughter of the kingdom’s infamous traitors, it wouldn’t end well for either of you.

He would have to begin plotting sooner rather than later. If he didn't, Taehyun would be married off to someone who wasn’t you, and the guards patrolling the town would prevent him from ever seeing you again. It was the worst possible scenario he could imagine.

Swallowing his pride, Taehyun spoke through gritted teeth, “I understand, father. May I be dismissed?” With an uninterested flick of his hand, the King waved his son off. Taehyun walked until he disappeared around the corner, breaking into a sprint down the hall once he was out of sight. He made a beeline for his room and slammed the door shut once he arrived. What was he supposed to tell you? All he wanted was to kick and scream like a child. Loud thuds echoed through the palace halls as Taehyun repeatedly slammed his head against his door—for once having no clue where to turn.

Shaky hands ran through his now messed-up hair, painfully imagining his life without you in it. The room appeared to shrink before Taehyun as tears stung the corners of his eyes, clouding his vision. He needed to act. Sitting in his room, dwelling on how sour everything was about to turn, wouldn’t benefit either of you. His eyes wildly darted around the room, desperately searching for his cloak. With shaking hands, he threw aside piles of garments, his frustration growing until his fingers finally found the familiar fabric. He yanked the cloak over his head, not bothering to straighten it before rushing to the window.

Throwing it open, he stared down at the castle’s backside—a familiar escape route he'd taken so many times before.

The night wasn't nearly as dark as Taehyun's usual escapades to visit you, but this was the least of his concerns. His only mission was seeing you. He had to warn you of his father's future plans before he lost you for good.

Taehyun managed to slip through the golden palace gates unnoticed, making his way to the charming village he’d grown so fond of. His pace slowed to a simple stride once he arrived safely.

Suddenly hyperaware of his surroundings, he observed the cottages and the quiet atmosphere—he frowned seeing all the people who were oblivious to the torment they would soon endure once the palace guards began patrolling the village.

He was in front of your home in zero time, the journey being second nature to him at this point. With a few special knocks, your cottage door swings open in seconds. A confused look washed over your face. Taehyun was never here this early. You were elated to see him, but that did little to drown your sudden concern.

Taehyun collapses into your arms nearly the second he lays his eyes on you. His weight completely crumpled against your body, holding you so tight as if you'd vanish the moment he let go. You finally question him. “Your Highness?”

With slow hands, you snake your arms up to wrap them comfortably around his neck, hoping to ease his indiscreetly racing heart against your chest. Taehyun pulls away to kiss you, lips lingering there for longer than usual. “I just need to be close to you right now. Please,” he mumbles against your lips, squeezing you tighter. The gesture made you smile up at him, flattered knowing he was so eager to see you.

You’re the first to pull away from Taehyun, nodding your head toward your home as an invitation. He follows close behind, draping his cloak over the kitchen table before his arms find their way around your waist from behind. You giggle at his clinginess, making your way to your bedroom with him still attached to you.

You guided Taehyun to the edge of the creaky bed, its wooden frame groaning softly beneath your combined weight as you settled down. The lumpy mattress shifted unevenly, straw rustling beneath the worn blankets.

His arms remained wrapped around you, pulling you close despite the bed’s quiet protests. He traced lazy patterns on your hip with his thumb and you let your eyes flutter closed, at peace.

The silence that sometimes found its way between you and Taehyun was usually a comfortable stillness, one that you always welcomed. Today, it was both deafening and hard to ignore.

“Is something wrong?” You asked, but with no response. This time, you picked your head up to gently rest your chin on his chest. Looking up at him, you find that he’s already been staring down at you with a small pout. His expression made you extremely upset, so you leaned up to kiss the pout away from his lips. “Please tell me what’s going on because—”

“Let’s run away together.” There it was. Taehyun’s master plan that he’d been conjuring up ever since the conversation with his father ended. It was the best he could think of—the only feasible option.

A nervous laugh erupts in your throat, unsure whether you should take him seriously or not. “What?”

Taehyun repeats himself much more assured this time, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Let’s run away together. You and me. Tomorrow.”

He didn't have to twist your arm. Running away with the love of your life and escaping this shitty kingdom sounded more than ideal, despite the obvious dangers. You smile with an adventurous look gracing your features, swinging one leg over his waist to sit up in his lap. “Let’s do it.”

“Are you serious?” Taehyun prayed it wouldn't take you much convincing, but god, did he feel lucky. Hearing your words of agreement left him feeling lighter. He slightly shifted in the bed and rested his back against the wooden headboard, admiring every inch of you while picturing running away hand in hand.

Tender fingers toyed with Taehyun’s, lifting his knuckles gently to your lips as you spoke. “Where shall we go?”

“Into the forest,” he answered, voice absent of hesitation. “We’ll keep running and won’t stop until we reach the clearing. Where we can be free from the chains of this god-awful place. There has to be another village. Somewhere far from here. Somewhere we can finally breathe.”

This was everything you wanted and more. It was hard to picture you and Taehyun spending the rest of your days as they had been the last few months—waiting out the daylight so you could see each other for a few hours at night. There was no future here, that was clear. "Will you meet me by the fence tomorrow night?” you ask him.

“I promise. I’ll be there at dusk.” Taehyun’s hands rest on your thighs, his touch gentle as his fingers continue to trace tiny circles against your skin. He’s searching for the right words. “I wanted to give you something.” Your head tilts in question, curiosity sparking in your eyes. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

“What is it?” you ask with a playful glint in your eyes. “More treats you smuggled out of the palace?”

He cracks a smile, remembering your first encounter with one another. “No. Um, it’s actually this." You held your breath when Taehyun lifted one hand from your thigh to touch his mother’s necklace that’s been hanging around his neck since the day you met him.

Your mouth runs dry at his words. Taehyun was really willing to give up his mother’s necklace, the person he admired the most, for you? You grab his wrist to stop him. “There's no way I can accept this.”

“My mother gave me this to make me promise I’d never devote myself to the kingdom.” His voice trembled as his unsteady hands reached behind his neck to unclasp the chain. Your eyes stayed locked on his, tears threatening to spill over at any moment. “Now, I’m giving it to you to fulfill that promise and prove that my devotion is to you. It symbolizes the day I finally leave the throne behind, for good.”

Taehyun leaned forward with the necklace in his hand, his eyes glimmering in concentration. He looked so pretty, his face inches from yours as he gently brushed your hair to one side. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you felt his hands reach behind your neck to reclasp the necklace. You’ve never been more in love than in this moment. One of his hands dropped down to your waist while the other rolled the necklace’s insignia between his fingers, carefully letting it fall to your chest. With both arms now hugging your waist securely, he bent down to press an affectionate kiss to your neck right over the chain of the necklace. Lips ghosted up your neck and across your jaw with more doting kisses, finally landing on your lips, the place you yearned for him the most.

Your hands cradled Taehyun’s face, pulling him closer as if the distance between you was too vast to bear. The darkness in his eyes mirrored your own, a desperate longing that words could never capture. “Thank you,” you whispered, voice soft as a single tear slipped free, tracing the curve of your cheek. His thumb swept it away, eyes frantically searching your face like he was memorizing every detail. And then, as if his restraint had finally shattered, Taehyun’s lips crashed against yours with a fervor that spoke of yearning, devotion, and a promise he could never put into words. His ministrations against you were equally slow and frenzied. With gentle gripping of skin and soft breaths between kisses, neither of you was able to get enough of the other.

The worn fabric of your dress gathered around your thighs in Taehyun’s grip. His touch burned through the thin cloth, and you nearly shuddered as his fingers slipped beneath it.

Taehyun was dressed only in his finely stitched tunic and trousers, his cloak long forgotten in the kitchen in his urgency to be near you.

He looked so beautifully out of place in your modest cottage—an artifact of sorts. The rich fabric clung to his shoulders, showing off the strong arms that held you. Its elegance is at jarring odds with the simplicity of your surroundings. He looked like he belonged to another world. One he was all too willing to leave behind.

“You look ridiculous in that,” you teased, your fingers toying with the delicate embroidery along his collar. “Too formal. Too… royal.”

His lips quirked into a smile, chuckling with you. “It’s not exactly practical for where we're going, is it?” His fingers slid along the now exposed skin of your hips, hiking your dress up around your waist. The pressure of his touch makes your breath hitch. “Compared to you, I’m overdressed.”

“Then take it off me.” The words slipped from your mouth before you could think twice, bold and shameless.

Taehyun’s expression shifted, his eyes darkening with something beyond amusement. “Anything you want, princess,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, the nickname rolling off his tongue. Princess—the word repeated in your head. His hands moved with careful intent, gathering the woven material of your dress and lifting it slowly and deliberately over your head, his gaze locked onto yours.

Taehyun let out a suppressed groan seeing your exposed body in nothing but your linen chemise. Unable to help himself, his fingers skimmed over the nearly see-through piece of clothing. His fingers barely brushed against your bare skin, dancing over the soft arch of your shoulder before trailing down your arm. The touch was gentle, burning your skin into the memory of his fingertips.

His breath caught as his hand ventured over your chest, fingertips following the delicate curves of your breasts, and eventually to your hardened nipples showing through the thin fabric. His hands moved to grip your sides, just beneath your arms, while his thumbs began tracing circles around them.

Goosebumps rose on your skin at the feeling when a soft, breathy moan you've been holding on to left your lips. Subconsciously, you arched your back into his sinful touch, hips buckling down into Taehyun’s lap. Taehyun was impossibly hard beneath you—all because of you. Your mind, your body, every secret and habit he’d memorized. The thought of you consumed him, stirring a primal need to claim every inch of you. He wanted to exist where no one else could, woven into your very essence.

Carefully, your hands reached for the hem of his tunic. Taehyun was eager to oblige, letting you lift it over his head and discard it onto the floor. Your hands explore his soft skin, running across his chest and stomach, which instinctively tensed at your touch.

Taehyun’s mind continued to spiral with thoughts of you. He needed more. He wanted so much of you that he’d never have enough. With this thought, his rough hands gripped your hips, dragging you against him in slow, deliberate grinds.

A low hiss left his lips at the increased pressure. Your hands rested on his shoulders, focused on the way his bottom lip was drawn between his teeth in focus. Testing the limits, Taehyun's hands gingerly tugged at the linen chemise still hugging your body—an annoying inconvenience to him. With a nod of permission, you took it upon yourself to pull the final layer of fabric from your body.

"You're breathtaking," he whispered in awe. "I don't think I'll ever get enough of looking at you."

Taehyun meant every word. Having you laid bare before him felt like a privilege—one he would never take for granted.

A quiet blush crept across your cheeks at the compliment. You couldn't remember the last time you'd been so vulnerable with a man. Nobody had ever made you feel the way Taehyun did. So cherished, so desired, so utterly beautiful in his eyes.

You craved the warmth of his lips against yours once more. Pressing your chest to his, you captured his mouth in a fervent kiss, desperate and insatiable. Your lips moved together in perfect harmony, a dance instinctual and familiar, as if you had been made for this, for him, and nothing else.

Taehyun's tongue pushed past his lips, venturing its way past your own turning the kiss feverish. Flesh against flesh, you allowed him to explore the cavern of your mouth. The sensation spread warmth across your body, quickening the needy roll of your hips against his. A throaty moan was elicited from Taehyun from the sudden change in pace. The soft sounds of his pleasure fueled your confidence, urging you to explore further. You wanted him to feel as cherished and beautiful as he made you feel. Gradually, your kisses trailed down his sharp jawline, each press slower and more heated than the last, like a growing fire.

Your lips moved down his neck, across his collarbone, before returning to his ear, where his breath caught in a delicate whine. Smiling against his skin, you lingered there and savored the moment, your lips teasing the sensitive spot you had found. In a daring move to enhance his pleasure, you trail a sneaky hand down into Taehyun's pants, palming him underneath the material. This time, your name loudly left his mouth in a needy cry, hips bucking up into your hand to match your movements. He was on cloud nine at this point, your hand rubbing his throbbing cock as your tongue traced just beneath his ear. It was short-lived as Taehyun's hand sharply gripped your wrist, stopping your motions. If he let you persist, he'd be cumming just like this. "What's wrong?" you whine, missing the desperate sounds he made. Out of breath, Taehyun wrapped both arms around your body, flipping you onto the bed and hovering above you, caging you in completely. The energy in the room shifted with a single movement. God, how you desired him.

Taehyun’s eyes searched your face, captivated by the sight of you beneath him—angelic, flushed with desire, your chest heaving with each breath, lips slightly parted, and your eyes wide, completely at his mercy. The way you looked at him, as if he were the only thing that mattered in the world, the way you lay there trusting him with everything. You knew him—the real him. And with that knowledge, you made him feel more than he ever thought possible.

He wanted to return that feeling to you tenfold. To make you feel special, seen, adored, and cared for in a way no one else ever had. This was more than just a moment—it was a promise, a perfect send-off before you both escaped together to spend the rest of your lives in a world built just for the two of you. He wanted to show you how a true princess like you deserved to be treated. "Nothing is wrong, my love," he finally responds, his eyes fixed on you as though you were the only thing that mattered. A smile tugs at your lips, and it makes his heart skip a beat. "I don't want you doing anything tonight. I just want you to lay there... to feel good. Let me tend to you like a princess." His voice wavers, and you can hear the desperation creeping in as he buries his head in your neck, grinding against you for some much-needed friction. "Please," he whines, his voice soft and pleading. "Let me take care of you."

You've never wanted anyone more in your entire life than you did at this very moment. You wanted to be devoured by him. "Yes," your voice comes out in a breathless whisper. "Please... you can do anything you want with me. I'm all yours." You're all his. Those words alone made Taehyun spring into action. With a shallow kiss to your lips, he moved down your body, each inch of his journey intensifying the desire coursing through him.

He refused to neglect a single inch of your body. Your neck, jawline, collarbones, shoulders, breasts, stomach—each press of lips followed by a proclamation of his infatuation with you. He was like a lovesick puppy, panting and unable to detach himself from you even for a moment.

Hands gripping the flesh of your thighs, Taehyun parted your legs making room for his face. A gentle swipe of his finger against your soaked folds was enough to have your back arching in pleasure. You were so unbelievably wet from this simple touch. Taehyun was mesmerized by how drenched your cunt was before him. He could hardly believe you were real, that he had the privilege of touching you. The thought alone made him twitch in his pants with anticipation. Settling against the mattress, he positioned himself comfortably, his arms wrapping around your thighs to pin your hips firmly to the bed.

He started with a careful lick of his tongue against your clit, careful and purposeful. Taehyun’s gaze never left your body, his focus honing in on every subtle shift and reaction beneath his touch.

He craved nothing more than to be perfect for you, instinctively aligning his movements with the signals you gave him, ensuring everything he did was exactly what you needed.

The more you writhed beneath him, the harder his tongue worked against you. It swiped across your folds, lapping up every little bit of your sweet arousal. You were addictive to Taehyun, and he couldn’t help but think this might be his favorite thing in the world.

His grip on your legs was unyielding, keeping you pressed to his mouth as he moved with desperation, your body trembling under the waves of pleasure he created. "Taehyun," you moaned his name inappropriately, your hand threading through the tufts of his hair, guiding him exactly where you wanted him. "Just like that… you feel so good," you whined in need. You had never felt like this before.

Taehyun groaned lowly against your folds, the praise making his head spin. He was doing everything right—everything you needed. Slowly, he moved his head back and forth, the firm pressure of his tongue relentless. No matter how much you tugged at his hair or tried to move your hips, he refused to relent. You could feel the edge approaching, and Taehyun could sense it too as he held you firmly against his face. "Yes, please don't stop," you pleaded, practically drooling with how close you were to release. A few more subtle movements of his tongue against you and you were seeing stars. Taehyun never lets up his actions, allowing you to ride out your high and bask in every ounce of the pleasure that coursed through you.

His chest swelled with pride feeling you shaking on his tongue, pretty sounds never ceasing to leave your equally pretty lips. He watched you with a quiet amazement.

The lewd sight before him had Taehyun discretely grinding himself down onto your bed for some form of relief. He thought he could do this to you forever. Taehyun needed to see you release beneath him again as if his very life depended on it. He would do anything to hear those sweet sounds and watch your face twist in pleasure once more. One time was not enough. Taehyun wouldn't care if your next orgasm was around his cock or not. If you asked him to stay between your legs all night, he'd do it without protest. Taking his pointer and index fingers, Taehyun spread your folds apart, rubbing your clit with his middle finger. A sharp shriek escaped you, head thrown back against your pillow at the overstimulation. He relished in the way your hole leaked with arousal, clenching around nothing. Eyes fixated on your cunt, Taehyun continued to grind his hips against the bed. A low moan left his own lips at the thought of how much pleasure he was giving you. The only thing stopping him was your firm hand caressing his cheek, pausing his movements. Mesmerized, he looks up to see what you need, his lips glossy and slick with arousal. "Yes, princess?" he's quick to ask, eager to serve you. "I need more of you," you pant, the longing in your voice undeniable. He knew exactly what you wanted. Taehyun stood up from the bed, slipping two fingers past his lips to clean the arousal from them before reaching down to remove his final layers of clothing.

You sit up eagerly on your elbows, eyes fixed on Taehyun as he removes his undergarments. The sight before you is mouth-watering—such a beautiful prince, once capable of commanding a kingdom, now standing before you, stripped of his title.

And yet, instead of holding any power, he kneels back on the bed, completely at your mercy. Your stomach flutters, overwhelmed by how willingly he offers himself, prioritizing your pleasure above all else.

Your body is once again enveloped by Taehyun’s much larger frame. As if the thought of being separated from you for even a second is unbearable, his lips find your neck almost instantly.

There’s nothing rushed or frantic in his movements. Every action he has taken since he placed that necklace around your neck has been slow, intentional, and with one thing in mind: your satisfaction. His lips and nose traced the cool chain resting on your neck, his kisses gradually migrating to your jaw. Amidst the soft presses of his lips, his hand glided up your thigh with slow movements, each touch sending a shiver through you as he positioned himself between your legs. "You sure this is okay, love?" Taehyun wanted to ensure your absolute comfort. He's sat back on his knees now, straddling you as he runs his tip along your wet folds. Fuck. How could you possibly say no when the man you loved so deeply sat before you, looking like that? You were practically drawing him into you.

"Please, take care of me, my prince. Make me yours."

Taehyun’s breath hitched at your desperation. You sat up for a moment, running a greedy hand down his body, making it harder for him to hold back. With a soft growl, he gently pushed you back onto the bed, unable to resist any longer.

He hovers above you once more, finally pressing his length into your entrance. Loving hands gripped your waist tentatively as if you were made of porcelain. He had promised to be gentle, to give you everything you needed. After a few shallow thrusts, allowing you to adjust to his size, he finally bottomed out inside you, the connection between your bodies complete. Taehyun hissed the moment he filled you, throwing his head back in pure delight. You weren't just his princess—you were a goddess, sent to save him, to claim him. He lay flat on top of your body, skin to skin, as his arms wrapped around you in a loving embrace. Taehyun made tender love to you in a way he never had before. Every careful roll of his hips sent your eyes fluttering closed, your hands digging into his muscular back that flexed with every movement. You couldn’t speak, but your body whispered everything it needed. You held onto him like a lifeline, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper into you.

Taehyun breathed heavily as your lewd moans filled the air, far louder than when he had gone down on you. The way your whines and cries grew with each thrust of his hips, the way his name escaped your lips—it sent a jolt through him, sparking every nerve. The feeling of your nails dragging across his skin only made him crave more. When you tried to meet his hips, he pressed you further into the bed, unable to resist the urge to give you everything you wanted. Seeing you like this—so undone, so lost in pleasure—was all Taehyun needed. He never imagined that your pleasure could drive him so wild, that watching you in this state would make him lose himself completely.

He dropped his head against your neck, fucking deeper into you with each painfully slow thrust. His movements were hard and unrelenting, as he ground against you with a raw, desperate need. "Fuck, you sound so beautiful," he murmured against your skin, his voice unsteady. Your moan, loud and breathless, slipped into his ear, making his spine tingle. "Feels good, princess?" Tears begin to prickle at the corners of your eyes when his hips curl just right, hitting your g-spot over and over again. You gripped his hair, tugging him up from your neck, forcing his eyes to meet yours. A wicked smile curved your lips as you watched his breath hitch. "You make me feel so good, Tae. You're doing so well," you purred, your voice dripping with praise. "Shit," Taehyun's eyes widened at your praise, his movements becoming more urgent. You had no idea how much your approval affected him. "I love you so much, I can't control myself." The mix of emotion and pure pleasure became overwhelming. Taehyun lowered his forehead to rest against yours, his breath ragged as his hand reached up to intertwine his fingers with yours, holding your hand firmly next to your head. Your gaze never wavered, locked in an intense connection as Taehyun continued his movements, each thrust purposeful and deep. His lips parted with a low groan before he captured your mouth in a kiss, holding it there as he quickened his pace, desperate to bring you to the edge once more. You called his name in a soft symphony of breathy moans, each one fueling Taehyun's movements, pushing him further into a frenzy. "I want to have you like this forever," he whispered, his words shaky as with his own release drawing near. "I'll never let anything happen to you. I'll always take care of you—just like this." Taehyun’s promises tumbled from his lips, soft and needy, growing more desperate the closer he got. Your body arched against his, your fingers tightening around his hand, knuckles turning white as you clung to him. "I'm gonna cum Tae," you barely choked your words out. Especially as Taehyun reached his hand between you both, rubbing hard circles over your clit to get you there. "It's okay," he murmured, his voice soft as you whined against him. "Let go, princess. I'm right here." One final thrust and you were there, gripping Taehyun's body hard while you screamed his name. The sound leaving your lips combined with your walls clenching around his cock had him cumming almost instantly, as if you' given him permission. It was everything he craved—to see you whole, utterly consumed by him. It took Taehyun a few moments to regain his senses. Even as he softened, he was reluctant to pull out of the warmth that felt so perfect around him. When he finally did, a sinful groan slipped from his mouth, his chin tucked to his chest as he watched the way his release mixed with yours, coating his length as he slid out of you. When Taehyun finally looked up at you, a smile spread across his face. You were already looking up at him, cheeks glowing with a soft blush, hair adorably matted to your forehead, glistening with sweat. He reached out, gently tucking a few stray strands away before cradling the side of your neck, his thumb tracing circles along your cheek.

You looked like an angel before him—his angel. The one he was lucky enough to steal away, to disappear with forever.

Your own heart was beating fast out of your chest. The beautiful boy above you made everything you'd ever been through worth it. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough. Taehyun settled himself next to you on the bed, not once allowing his touch to leave you. He pulled you along with him, securing one hand around your waist while the other found your hair, playing with it as he hummed a tune.

You let out a content sigh as Taehyun tucked you against him. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and tender.

“You okay?” he murmured, voice thick with exhaustion and filled with something even deeper—devotion.

You nodded, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “More than okay.” Your fingers drew tiny shapes on his chest. “I think… this might be the happiest I’ve ever been.”

Taehyun’s arms tightened around you, his heart thudding beneath your touch. “Good,” he whispered. “Because I’m never letting you feel anything less than this again.”

You smiled, closing your eyes as he continued humming softly, a melody meant only for you. You stayed in each other’s arms like this for the rest of the night. Tomorrow would finally mark the first day of your new life together. But for now, you had this. You had him.

It was nearly impossible for you to sit still the next day. You had woken up much earlier than usual as your body anticipated your escape. Anxious fingers tapped at your leg while thoughts ran rampant whenever you attempted to sit down and relax. Pacing your cottage seemed to be the only way of passing the time.

Taehyun’s actions mirrored your own back at the palace. It was barely seven in the morning and he’d already gathered what little items he deemed important enough to bring on your journey. Quite honestly, the only thing he needed was you. Everything else was meaningless and would only serve as a bleak reminder of the kingdom.

He pushed his way through the heavy double doors that lead outside to the palace garden. Contrary to the rest of the palace, it was a rather beautiful place that Taehyun always wished he could take you, had your circumstances permitted it. Various colors and flora decorated the green, spreading as far as the eye could see. It was the one place inside the palace walls that put his mind at ease. Taehyun felt it was the last place remaining untouched and uncorrupted by the kingdom.

More importantly, it was the last place he'd been with his mother. Just looking at the flowers and greenery sprouted an unexplainable strength within him. Taehyun made a mental note to tell you all about the garden when he saw you tonight.

“Prince Taehyun?” a voice of one of the garden keepers sounded from behind, interrupting Taehyun's inner monologue. He turned on his heel, looking at the stunned guard who quickly bowed as Taehyun faced him. The keeper looked familiar—Hueningkai, if he recalled correctly. A newer guard who’d grown up within the kingdom, around Taehyun’s age. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

With a tilted head, Taehyun looked puzzled at the keeper’s words. “What do you mean?”

The keeper's eyes went wide in realization of the admission he had let slip from his mouth, stumbling over his words in a failed attempt to backtrack. “O-oh nothing, my prince. I didn't—I just mean you’re awake earlier than usual.”

A red flag automatically went off in Taehyun’s head. He took several sudden strides forward, and the keeper backed away as he did so. There was something off. Taehyun felt it in his gut. “Don’t lie to me. Who gave you orders? What’s happening today?”

“I’m not... I'm not supposed to say.” Hueningkai kept his eyes low out of respect.

The immense fear in Hueningkai's eyes made Taehyun’s own gaze soften with guilt. It was the same fear he imagined in the eyes of villagers whenever they felt threatened by the throne.

Taehyun hated himself for wielding his title in such a way. It made him feel like his father, using status and power to instill terror in people.

Taking a swift step back, Taehyun eased the tone of his voice. “I won’t tell anyone you told me, Kai.”

Hueningkai’s eyes flicked up at the sound of his name, darting around nervously. Taehyun could see him weighing the risk of divulging anything to the crowned prince. With a tight swallow, Hueningkai quickly babbled, “A few criminals are being captured and taken to the palace dungeons this morning. They're set to be brought out in front of the palace for the public to witness."

Taehyun didn’t understand. “Why wouldn’t you be allowed to tell me this?”

“The King made it very clear that you know nothing about the execution. That your presence would only agitate things.” "Execution?"A wave of confusion washed over Taehyun. His father had always made a point to inform him of every ordeal that occurred inside and outside of the palace. He was never kept in the dark as the crowned prince, not when he was expected to understand the duties of a King. Why would his father decide today of all days to shut Taehyun out?

It wouldn't matter in the end—he would be gone with you by his side in less than a day. Still, part of Taehyun felt unsettled by the conversation.

"Thank you." He didn't wait for the keeper's response, his body already moving sharply toward the palace. The urgency to see you grew stronger with every step.

You, on the other hand, had been quietly rehashing the getaway plan in your mind while Taehyun busied himself at the palace. Perched on the edge of your bed, you ran your hand over the crease in the sheets where Taehyun’s body lay with yours just the night before.

Your coat hung over the wooden kitchen chair, pockets stuffed with what little items you actually need for your journey with Taehyun; a few pieces of memorabilia from your family, some money, and snacks to keep you satiated.

Uncertain of what else to do to pass the time, you decided to fill a canteen with water for both yourself and Taehyun, knowing that a long journey was ahead.

Walking the short gravel path to the well, you couldn’t help but laugh, remembering your second encounter with Taehyun when you nearly saw him tumble down the well. You two had come so far, and now, you were preparing to run away forever with him. Bending over carefully, you held the metal canteen under the spout, pushing the pump down and watching the cold water flow out. The sun's rays glinted against the shiny canteen perfectly, nearly blinding you. But the longer you stared at the canteen, you couldn’t help but notice a dark figure growing larger in its reflection. After a moment, you could easily figure out that it was a large man approaching you at full speed. You’d recognize that insignia anywhere etched on the front of his garments. It was a palace guard—and he was running straight at you.

With your back still turned, you quickly step back, planting one foot on the ground while swinging your body around. Your arm extends as the metal canteen comes in contact with the palace guard’s face just in time. The impact stung your hand, but it was nothing compared to the way the guard flew back at the blunt force, landing hard on his back. Your strike bought you enough time to sprint in the opposite direction, but as you turned, you saw another palace guard approaching from that same direction. With no other choice, you were forced to retreat down the path toward the forest.

Your heart pounded painfully in your chest, the sound of blood rushing in your ears as you ran. Every step was fueled by fear, by the knowledge that everything was at risk. It couldn’t be a coincidence that guards had appeared in the village today of all days. They’d already taken your parents and brother—what more could they possibly want from you? For a brief moment, a dark thought twisted in your mind: Did Taehyun betray you? Had he told them? But no… He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Your trust in him steadied your breath, the doubt slipping away as quickly as it had come.

Luckily, you were quick on your feet. The familiar chain-link fence that marked the boundary to the forest soon came into view. You were so close. Just a little farther and you’d make it. All you had to do was scale the fence and keep running, not stopping until you were out of sight. Taehyun would realize something was wrong soon enough, right?. He’d come for you that night, and your plan would unfold just as you’d imagined.

You made the mistake of glancing over your shoulder, only to realize both guards were now hot on your heels. The distance was closing at an alarming rate. With the fence now directly in front of you, you mentally cursed yourself realizing that Taehyun wasn’t here to help lift you this time. Regardless, you didn’t stop your momentum as you jumped as high as you could and grabbed onto the fence, smiling in victory once you’d settled yourself onto it.

Your mini-celebration came to an abrupt end as large hands gripped your ankle roughly, ripping you down from the fence and forcing you to fall straight to the ground. You landed hard on your stomach, knocking the wind out of you as you struggled to breathe any air. The first guard grabbed you by your hair, pulling you up to your feet with no remorse. You reached up with all your strength, trying to grab the guard's hands and break his firm hold on your hair. Kicking and struggling with every ounce of power you had, you fought to escape, but it was no use. The other guard swiftly pulled your hands behind your back, tying them together with a rope that cut painfully into your wrists.

“Let me go!” you struggled against the confinements.

“Be quiet," one of them grumbled to you. “We have direct orders from the King to apprehend you.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” you couldn't hide the disgust in your voice. You squeezed your eyes shut at the pain overwhelming your body from both exhaustion and being handled so brutally. “I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“We're just following orders.” "That's your problem," you spat, looking up at the palace guards with pure disdain. "You follow the kingdom’s orders blindly, without question. You’re nothing but dogs with no sense of humanity." They must've deemed your fighting words not worth responding to, silence ensuing. You were out of options at this point. Exhaustion completely washes over your body, and you’ve lost the strength to struggle in your restraints. The most courage you could muster was to glare up at the guard who watched you closely. His eyes were keenly focused on the insignia around your neck. Reaching out to examine the charm connected to the end of the chain, you barely had a second to react before he ripped it off of you, shoving it deep into his pocket. He smirked. “I don’t believe this belongs to you.”

“Give that back!” You further protest against the wrist restraints until the other guard knocks you onto your knees, shutting you up. You fell with a thud, out of breath and completely defeated.

An image of Taehyun’s face played in your mind, etched in a way that made your heart ache. You could see the way his eyes always studied you, full of quiet curiosity, trying to understand every little part of you. You imagined the gentle pressure of his lips, brushing against your temple, soft and reverent, before trailing down to capture your own lips. A smile tugged at your own, the warmth of his touch still lingering in your chest.

That was all you could hold onto before something hard and unforgiving came in contact with your head, forcing your vision to fall completely black.

A sudden panic washed over your entire body. Slowly regaining consciousness, your eyes darted back and forth underneath your eyelids before shooting wide open with a loud gasp.

Everything felt fuzzy. Even through the haze, you could tell that you were no longer in the village. Your surroundings felt foreign, distant, like they belonged to someone else’s world. You blinked several times, the world around you shifting slowly into focus, only to be stabbed by the harsh contrast of sunlight and the palace’s blinding yellow lights, glaring down at you like judgment.

The palace.

Your stomach churned. Those pathetic guards had dragged you, unconscious and helpless, all the way here. You were sitting at the bottom of the grand palace stairs, your body aching as the weight of your situation sank in.

Your chest burned with fury. Anger surged through your veins like wildfire, making your hands clench involuntarily. The sight of the dozen or so guards, poised like statues, made your blood boil. The air was thick with the murmurs of the palace citizens, gathered in some sick mockery of a crowd. They all stood idly by, watching as if this were the best entertainment they'd seen in weeks. It was the King, sitting like some kind of wretched deity at the top of the stairs, who held your eyes the longest. His eyes, filled with contempt, watched down on you and the others, indifferent to the suffering around him. You could feel his gaze like a weight pressing down on you, and all you could feel was the heat of your anger.

When you noticed the line of people waiting behind you as a guard shoved you toward a man with a sharp sword, one thing became clear.

This was an execution.

Taehyun needed to see you as soon as possible. There's no way he could wait for nightfall at this point. Kai’s words had left him teetering on the edge. He knew that he had to leave the palace immediately.

The doors leaving the garden burst open under Taehyun’s force, his urgency propelling him forward as he hurried through the palace corridors toward his chambers.

He snatched his cloak, swinging it over his shoulders along with the few belongings he had prepared. There was no time to sneak around the grand halls, no time for caution. He didn’t care if someone saw him.

But first, Taehyun wanted to see his father one last time before he left for good. There were a few final words he needed to exchange with him—a final nail in the coffin. He would make sure the King regretted every cruel decision he ever made—how he mistreated his late wife and his only son, the only people who had ever been close to him. And when Taehyun was finished, he would disappear with you, leaving nothing but ashes of the kingdom’s sins behind. The King would never see him again.

With a sharp turn around a corner in the direction of the King’s throne, Taehyun abruptly collided with the large body of a palace guard who seemed to be in just as much of a rush as he was. The guard was quick to express his remorse. “Prince Taehyun, my apologies.”

“It's fine,” Taehyun’s words were sharp and to the point, having little time for banter of any sort. “Where is my father?”

“I believe the King is somewhere just outside of the palace.”

“For today's execution?” Taehyun retorted. The guard's eyes widened just in the slightest at Taehyun's knowledge of the executions occurring today. But he was quick to regain his composure, nodding in confirmation with his head hanging low to avoid Taehyun’s eyes.

“Thank you. You may carry on.” The guard bowed lowly at Taehyun’s dismissal. On any other day, Taehyun would’ve paid little mind to the palace guards he came in contact with and continued his mission through the palace, but the faint sound of metal clinking against the marble floor made Taehyun stop cold in his tracks.

A glint of silver caught his attention, and his heartbeat quickened when he saw a necklace lying at his feet.

Slowly, he bent down and let the chain fall into his palm, the familiar insignia cool against his skin. His fingers traced the insignia between his fingers the same way he'd done the night before when he fastened it around your neck.

Taehyun lost all sense of rationality watching the guilt creep its way into the guard’s eyes. They darted frantically between the prince's face and the necklace now in his hands. Taehyun spoke through gritted teeth, “Where did you get this?”

“Your High-”

“Where the fuck is she?” he snarled, shoving the guard against the stone wall with a force that rattled the air. His forearm pressed violently against the guard’s throat, fury blazing in his eyes.

The guard’s silence spoke louder than words ever could.

Taehyun’s chest heaved, his breath quivering as he fought against the truth clawing at his mind. A strangled sob nearly escaped him. He already knew the answer.

Yet he still repeated himself, voice cracking and barely more than a whisper. “Where is she?”

The guard did nothing but turn his head away in shame, eyes looking in the direction of the palace entrance where the execution was being carried out just on the other side. With a final, furious shove against the wall, Taehyun released the guard and took off, sprinting down the corridor with reckless abandon. His boots pounded against the floor as he charged toward the entrance, his breath ragged and his vision blurred. Reaching the grand doors, he threw them open with all his strength, their heavy frames crashing against the walls with a deafening roar. He was met by the glaring afternoon sun that shone, a complete contrast to the scene playing out directly in front of him as his father and the people of the palace turned to see who’d just burst through the doors.

Taehyun’s eyes frantically searched the crowd, his chest heaving as he scanned the sea of faces. When his gaze finally locked onto yours, a helplessness crashed over him like a tidal wave, something more agonizing than anything he'd ever known.

You knelt at the feet of the executioner, hands bound cruelly behind your back. Your trembling body swayed, but your eyes remained steady as you looked up, glassy and sorrowful, meeting his bewildered stare.

“Taehyun!” you screamed, your voice cracking under the weight of terror and longing. It was the last sound to leave your pale lips, the final plea of a soul torn apart.

As if your call had been a signal, the executioner drove the blade of his sword through your torso from behind. Pain rippled through you, sharp and unforgiving, and yet your eyes never left his. Even as darkness claimed you, you held his gaze.

“No!” Taehyun screamed at the top of his lungs, dropping to his knees as he watched the life slowly leave your body. You fell to the ground, your lifeless form marred by the blade that protruded from you by the hands of the executioner.

Taehyun couldn’t hear anything except the high-pitched ringing in his ears. It was as if the world had collapsed in on itself, leaving only that unforgiving, suffocating noise. His body shook so violently that his hands fell to the ground beneath him, palms scraping against the harsh stone.

The entire world had shattered before him. His gaze remained locked on your body, crumpled and still, blood pooling from the wound in your chest like spilled ink staining the ground. The warmth and life that once radiated from you were gone, stolen by the cruelty of this place.

He couldn’t protect you. He didn’t keep his promise to run away. His chest tightened with the force of his sobs, grief tearing through him with a brutality that left him gasping for air. And the realization twisted itself into his soul—he’d lost you. Forever.

It was his father’s voice repeatedly calling his name that brought him back down to Earth. “Prince Taehyun,” the King called over and over, breaking through his trance. He hadn’t realized he was crying either. Uncontrollable tears soiled his cheeks, his face flushing as he watched the guards drag your unmoving body away. “Taehyun, stand up! Kings do not cry over their subjects.” he walked over to grip his son by the elbow and yanked Taehyun to his feet. “Whether we loved them or not.”

Taehyun's chest tightened at his father’s revelation. Without thinking, his hands shot forward, shoving his father with both hands, nearly sending him down the treacherous palace steps. His rage was uncontainable.

“You knew about her—about us—this entire time, didn’t you?” he spat, his voice tainted with betrayal.

The King took a moment to compose himself, surprised by his son's emotion. Tahyun had never been one to act out, let alone in front of the entire kingdom. The guards carefully worked their way toward the altercation, to which the King simply waved off, wanting to hear him out. “Taehyun, you should be smarter than that. I have eyes all over the palace.”

Taehyun’s stomach twisted—the fishmonger.

The only one who had seen his face the day he met you. The same man who had argued with you over payment, unwilling to believe you had paid fairly. He must have held a grudge against you—against both of you. Or maybe he had simply traded village secrets to the crown for his own gain.

Taehyun felt sick. He should have known. His father had always had informants lurking in the village.

“So your solution was to take away the one thing that made me happy?” Taehyun yelled.

His father’s expression remained unchanged, his face a mask of indifference as if Taehyun’s words meant nothing. Cold and callous, he continued, “She would have been nothing more than a distraction from your duties as King.” Without a second glance, Taehyun’s father turned on his heel, striding back into the palace. But before he crossed the threshold, he paused mid-step, glancing over his shoulder with a sneer. His eyes locked onto Taehyun’s, swollen and brimming with unshed tears.

“I always knew you were just as foolish as your mother.”

The next thing Taehyun knew, he was on top of his father, unleashing all of the pent-up hatred of him and the throne. It took three guards to finally pull Taehyun off of the King, carrying him all the way to his chambers despite his thrashing and protesting.

The guards dropped Taehyun onto the floor of his room with a thud. His movements came to a complete halt as he quit his demonstrations, completely drained of any willpower he might have had left. The doors slammed shut behind him as he drew his knees up into his chest, wrapping his arms around them.

He remained in that position for the rest of the day, sobs bubbling from his chest every now and then. His cries only became louder as dusk fell, knowing he was no longer meeting you at the fence to escape into the forest that night.

Taehyun rarely left his room in the weeks following your execution. He only came out every once in a blue moon to attend to any princely duties his father forced upon him. Each task was promptly followed by a quick return to his bed.

He had become the unfortunate subject of gossip throughout the entire kingdom. The King, next to mortified, was consumed with shame over how the palace viewed his son—the future King.

To them, Taehyun was nothing more than a disgrace, the prince who couldn’t even hold himself together while witnessing his first execution. In the King's eyes, he had brought shame to the Kang Kingdom and tarnished the family name.

It didn’t help that Taehyun was supposed to be married off soon, with today marking the first time he was set to meet his soon-to-be bride. Despite all he’d endured, he was expected to run the palace alongside a Queen, in hopes of moving past it all. Yet, Taehyun felt like he had never had a choice in the matter.

Standing before the mirror after donning his royal garments for the meeting, Taehyun’s reflection greeted him with nothing but a blank expression, swollen eyes, and a dead gaze. He couldn’t help but notice how incredibly lonely he looked. His eyes, once full of hope, were now empty, drained by the pain his father and the kingdom had inflicted on him since his childhood. His gaze fell to the insignia hanging around his neck, the weight of it reminding him how it wasn’t where it belonged: it should have been with you.

Taehyun found himself in a fit of laughter. Anyone listening in on him would’ve thought he was crazy. It was comical to him. You were the one who was dead, yet Taehyun felt like he was barely alive.

His laughter was cut short by someone tentatively entering his room. “Prince Taehyun, is everything alright?” Caught off guard, he sharply turned to face whoever had caught him in such a vulnerable state. Aggressive eyes turned soft, recognizing the keeper from the garden, Hueningkai, who helped him the day of your execution.

Taehyun stood up straight, his feigned prince persona taking over. “Yes, I’m alright. Thank you.” The keeper didn't look so convinced, and Taehyun could tell he had something more to say. “What is it, Kai?”

“Prince Taehyun,” he began once more, looking towards the floor. “Permission to speak truthfully?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t think you should become King.” Taehyun’s eyes narrowed at the words. He wasn’t joking when he said he wanted to be truthful. “I mean, you deserve better than this god-awful place,” the man continued, his voice tinged with genuine concern. “You shouldn’t have to put up with any of this. I knew your mother, and I know you. Both of you are better than this entire kingdom.”

Taehyun’s father had conditioned him early on to never show emotion in front of his subjects, but that was quite impossible now. He looked over at Kai as his eyes filled with salty tears. “You say that like I have a choice to be here.”

“But you do, my prince.” Kai risked taking a step closer to Taehyun, lowering his voice to but a whisper. “You should get out of here. I won’t tell anyone where you’ve gone. The princess of the Choi Kingdom will not be here for another hour. It's not a lot of time, but it should be just enough to leave without anyone noticing.”

“I don’t think I can—”

“Please, listen.” The keeper’s voice was urgent, and Taehyun couldn’t ignore the urgency in it. “They buried her in the woods with her parents.”

Taehyun’s heart dropped at the mention of you, someone he had been haunted by for weeks.

“I know you know where that is,” Hueningkai continued, his tone softer now. “Go see her. But after that… you have to leave. Get as far away from here as you can. You owe it to yourself.”

Taehyun opened his mouth to respond, but the gardener was already gone, slipping out of sight and disappearing down the hall before anyone could notice. Taehyun knew he had a narrow window of opportunity, and he couldn’t waste it. The mention of your name had lit a fire within him, the last push he needed. Without hesitation, he grabbed his cloak and, in a heartbeat, slipped outside the palace gates. This time, for good.

He reached the village in what felt like the blink of an eye. It was easy to lose track of time when his mind was racing, consumed with images of you. As he passed the old well and then your cottage, time seemed to slow even more—if that was possible. Painful memories surged through him, skewing his senses so intensely that he almost didn’t notice the guard standing motionless at the village border. When Taehyun finally saw him, he jumped, ducking behind a nearby shrub just in time to avoid being spotted.

Had the King really deployed guards into the village so soon? Taehyun distinctly remembered his father saying he would delegate this responsibility to him when the time came. Perfect timing, he thought, rolling his eyes. The King no longer trusted Taehyun with the power of the throne, and now, Taehyun was starting to believe that trust had vanished long before you ever did.

It was now or never, Taehyun finally decided. So, with a few confident strides, there he stood directly in front of the palace guard who sat with his back comfortably against the fence. An unfathomable rage lit inside of Taehyun when he recognized the guard as the same one who possessed your necklace the day you were executed. “Prince Tae-” the guard couldn’t get two words out as Taehyun curled his fist and sent it flying across the guard’s face, crushing his jaw and sending him bouncing against the fence. Taehyun didn’t waste another second, scaling the fence and easily reaching the top as he swung his leg over to the other side. His opposite foot was suddenly caught by the guard, who weakly held his bloodied face with his other hand. Summoning every ounce of energy and strength left in him, Taehyun kicked out, his foot slamming into the guard’s face and knocking him unconscious in an instant.

Taehyun jumped down from the fence, stumbling slightly as he hit the ground. Then, without hesitation, he ran. Ran until the chain-link fence was no longer visible behind him. This was it. He was no longer a prince, but a runaway, desperately searching through the forest for the place where his love had been buried. When the forest finally opened up, revealing a freshly filled grave with a small gravestone etched with your name, he knew he'd arrived.

The sight was beautiful yet tragic at the same time. The last time he was here with you, he hadn’t processed how the trees surrounding the graves blossomed with pretty pink flowers, casting a small shadow over the open area. The fallen petals decorated the dirt in a haunting yet mesmerizing way that drew him in towards your grave. He sank to his knees, his palms pressing into the dirt in front of the gravestone, his head hanging low against his chest. Before much passed, Taehyun broke down in a sob. His cries were deeper than the day you were taken from him, more anguished than when he learned of his mother’s death. He wept for himself, for the unbearable pain he had endured in his short life. He wept for the villagers, trapped in a cycle of fear under the kingdom’s oppressive rule.

Each tear spilled from his eyes, sliding down his cheek and falling toward the side of his nose, marking his sorrow.

It went on like this for several minutes, until one exceptionally large tear slipped from his eye, dripping down to his chin before falling onto the fresh dirt in front of your gravestone. For a moment, nothing happened. The world remained quiet except for the sound of his unsteady breaths. But then, a deep yet faint rumble stirred beneath him. At first, it was subtle, like a whisper beneath the earth. Taehyun barely registered it, too lost in his grief. Then, the tremors grew stronger. The ground beneath him trembled with an unnatural force. Loose soil scattered across the grave as a brilliant light erupted, swallowing the gravestone in its glow.

His head snapped up, confusion flickering across his tear-streaked face. The brightness was blinding, forcing him to lift an arm to shield his eyes as his heart hammered against his ribs. The vibration intensified, turning into a violent quake that had him stumbling back. The ground beneath him shook violently, and Taehyun stumbled to his feet. The persistent quaking sent him crashing into a nearby tree, his hands gripping its rough bark for balance as the tremors continued to rattle through the forest.

It was then that Taehyun remembered, all at once, the myth he had shared with you in this very spot—the legend that said only the tears of a deceased lover could bring them back for just a moment. His heart raced as the quaking earth beneath him seemed to affirm the ancient words. The gods had heard his sorrow, and they were giving him this one fleeting moment to be with you again. His life depended on it.

Still, he squinted ahead, unwilling to miss a single moment of what was about to unfold. The breeze swept through his hair as he slowly lowered his arm to his side. A small figure began to rise from the grave, drawing his curiosity in a way that tormented him. As the blinding light gradually dimmed and the brush cleared, his voice caught in his throat.

There you were, ascending from your grave in a way so angelic it stole the very air from his lungs. Taehyun approached with caution, his heart pounding in his chest, terrified that he was hallucinating. His eyes searched you, desperate to confirm the impossible.

You scanned the forest wildly, disoriented but taking in every detail around you. When your eyes finally locked on Taehyun, time seemed to freeze. He barely dared to breathe as he whispered your name, stepping into the cloud of smoke that surrounded you, “Is this really you?”

“T-Taehyun?” Your voice sounded dry and strangled when you choked out his name. But hearing you say anything at all made Taehyun smile. He stopped sharp short in his tracks, seeing a sharp blade protruding from the smoke, almost having walked directly into it. The closer he got to you, his heart sank as he recognized the sword protruding through your body, the same blade that had been driven through you during your execution. Despite the sight, he stepped carefully to one side of the sword, his hands trembling as he wrapped his arms around your waist above the blade. He pulled you gently against him, desperate for the touch he had longed for, feeling a rush of warmth as he held you once more.

“I'm so sorry,” Taehyun mumbled over and over into your hair.

“For what? You didn’t do this to me, Taehyun. This isn’t your fault.” You soothed him as best as you could, running your fingers gently through his hair that you missed so much.

You were an apparition, a momentary gift from the gods birthed by the tears he shed, yet he could somehow hear you and feel your touch. You seemed so alive, except for the sword that remained wedged in the center of your body, absent of any blood.

Taehyun leaned in to kiss you, tasting you against his lips after what had seemed like forever. You tasted the salty tears that stained his face, making your own eyes swell up at the heartbreak you must’ve put him through.

You refused to pull away from each other, savoring the moment as your lips moved slowly together. He eventually glanced down at the sword and then back up to your eyes, which were still closed, lost in the memory of his kiss.

“Does it hurt?”

You looked down at the sword sticking out of your stomach and chuckled softly. “I can’t feel a thing.”

Taehyun felt a wave of relief wash over him, and he couldn’t help but kiss you again, his lips lingering on yours. As he pulled away, he bit down gently on your lower lip, a playful smile tugging at his features. He pressed his forehead against yours, a gesture he always cherished.

“I felt that, though,” you said, your voice light with laughter, and soon he joined you, the sound of your shared joy filling the air.

The laughter quickly faded, replaced by an ominous silence that hung between you, the sky dimming overhead. Neither of you wanted to say what was truly on your mind.

Taehyun was the first to speak, his voice hesitant as he tiptoed around the truth. “I can’t believe the legend was actually true.”

You swallowed hard, the words heavy in your chest. “I know,” you responded quietly, unwilling to delay the inevitable. “But that means we don’t have much time left together. I’ll have to leave soon.”

There are a hundred ways to leave a lover.

Taehyun had spent sleepless nights tormenting himself over each one, his mind cycling through every possibility. Abandonment, betrayal, indifference—all the ways people tear each other apart. But death… death was the most permanent of them all. Maybe that was why his father had used it so mercilessly against your family. It was a clean break, an irreversible punishment meant to sever ties forever.

But for Taehyun, it only solidified his resolve. He wouldn’t let the same fate tear the two of you apart. If death was how his father wanted to end things, then Taehyun would meet him on his own twisted terms.

If losing you was inevitable, then maybe surrendering himself to that same fate was the only way to feel whole again.

The thought had consumed him for weeks, festering like an open wound. Maybe everything he’d endured—every conflict, every lie, every stolen moment with you—had brought him to this very decision. With that unwavering determination, Taehyun took a step back from you, aligning the tip of the blade with his stomach as his hands reached behind you to grasp the sword’s hilt

“What the hell are you doing!?” Your hands flew on top of Taehyun’s in a panic, stopping him before he could make any crass decisions.

Hueningkai’s words echoed in Taehyun’s mind—about seeing you and then continuing with his journey—but Taehyun couldn’t bring himself to move forward. Not now, when he felt farther from the kingdom yet closer to you than he ever had before. Leaving you wasn’t an option.

“Don't,” he murmured, his hand gently caressing your face as tears slipped down both your cheeks. “It’s okay, my princess. We can spend an eternity together this way.”

Taehyun’s hands found the hilt of the sword again, his palms sweating as he met your gaze one last time. With a final, shared smile between you both, he shoved the sword back through your torso, piercing his own as it passed through you both.

Your bodies collided, flush against one another now, the blade connecting you in a final, agonizing bond.

You reached out, catching Taehyun against you as his blood seeped from his wound, staining both your clothes. Your arms wrapped around him, holding him steady as his hands pulled you closer, resting his head against your chest with the last of his strength.

You could feel the life draining from him, his weight growing heavier against you with each passing second.

"I love you forever," Taehyun managed, blood trickling out the corner of his mouth when he opened it to speak.

“I love you forever, Your Highness,” you replied sadly, feeling his heartbeat slowing against you. "I'll see you soon."

Eventually, your ghost vanished, leaving Taehyun lying alone atop your grave, motionless. Yet he still smiled, knowing he would see you on the other side. The kingdom was finally a thing of his past, and you would be his future.

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