#since i already had plans for that i was saving for later

[neo91502]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOMM TIREDSMASHBROS!!!

note for tomm under the read more... lalala💥💥 @tiredsmashbros

ohhh tomm. tomm tiredmashbros, oh do you even know what has happened this, what, past half a year and counting? There has been so, so much improvement these past few months, whether that was to be art or even being able to grow the confidence to actually make a discord server and how well it is and how active it is to this day!!! It’s genuinely felt like it’s been so long, but truly only has been maybe about. since september so like 4 months maybe of the discord server? and so much has happened since then.

Onto the actual much deeper depths of paragraphs, you genuinely have changed my life in ways that I don’t think I could even achieve. Many days on vc’s, joking about the most random things, to the (about) most unexpected things, late night vc’s, the silly sleepover vc’s (technically late night... but shhhh), your paragraphs here, your just genuinely amazing self and personality. Even if you’re just another person in this world, I think you’re some of the best among everyone that I could’ve had the pleasure of getting to meet and know you.

I always loved the times when we vced and went “hey it’d be funny if we watched this video” then did that or, mainly, plan ahead and all. The pikmin iceberg (even if i fell asleep. whoops.), isaacwhy ltlvc, epic the musical, and so much more probably HSJDNSJ. I’ll always remember the first vc I was in with you, or at least the one that I think is the first since I think we both were muted then eventually unmuted JSIDJSSJ I still don’t remember who was all there... i think it’s really funny that like 1-2 months after that, we vced so much and literally couldn’t remember who was there in the first vc JSAKJSKDJD i think that vc was when we had that silly “IM NOT A TYPER” or something i think... I DONT HAVE THE ORIGINAL IMAGE SAVED RN JAHDJDSJ 💔💔💔 and i sounded in such despair because it was like 1 or 2 am for me and i had to be quiet... I always absolutely LOVE our vc’s together, even if i’m caught, i typically don’t actually feel that bad since it’s just like. augh. i have no idea how to explain it💔💔 but yeah 💥💥💥 —> EDIT HERE... LTIERALLY TALKING TO YOU IN DMS AND YOU LITERALY HAVE JT ON HAND. THE IM NOT A TYPER. BROOOOO IM GONNA GET YOU

The surprise you gave me for my birthday and the fact that you did an entire PARTY IN THE SERVER ???? dude i was genuinely so gobsmacked, even if i was late to it NSKDNSKAJA... there was so much going on, i’ll be so fr i literally can barely remember it other than you asking my favroite scene and saying flowerfield sunset and then some bit later you surprised me with the fanart of neo like GUH?????? oh my GOS AJAJSNSNbut even just the MERE IDEA of having a birthday party and the fact that you wanted to do one for me was so surprising and i’m so genuinely hyped for yours like GUH. I’m so HSJSNSJSJSKSKNDJD

as you already know, the drawing above took about 12 hours and 30 minutes to fully finish. honestly, to my first fanart of tsb to this one is just amazing and i wouldn’t be able to see such improvement if it weren’t for you, for your amazing lore of tsb (i will yap about this later...), stealing some of your silly techniques here and there, and so much more. i’m just. baffled at the thought of being here with your birthday today.

oh and your ART. oh my GOODNESS. Where do i even START. for one, i know for a FACT i have stolen silly little things out of your style because of how unique and silly it is and how i do this with all of my friends because i genuinely appreciate and love everything that everyone makes,,, i especially LOVE, oh my goodness do i LOVE how you do your coloring and shading. it’s so unique in a way that works so damn well with how you do your lines, whether it’s sketchy or not, the outlines, everything bro. the rendering gets me the most. you WITNESSED me STRUGGLE to recreate it because i really wanted to try out and do a piece more in your style of things!! i do want to say it had been actually so fun doijg that... i should do it again lalalala... BUT ANYWASY!!!!! i’ve always just. oh my god. LOVE and just BUSHSURHEJSNA i just love how do you comics bro,.... no matter if they’re the ones like your final or the ones like the memories tsb lore... and especially the SPEED YOU GET THESE DONE AT ???? BRO IM SO JEALOUS IN THE BEST WAY POSSINLE... i don’t think i’ll ever stop looking up to you bro...

and now the lore. oh my Lore. Lore lore lore lore . im gonna gET YOUUUUUUU. i’m so INVESTED in tsb’s lore... the creation of this whole universe with cartoony characteristics (it’s literally just. HOW DO I EXPLIJA IT ITS BASISLY LIKE JUST A CARTOON WHDJSNS AND I LOVE IT), pipedream, watchman, the mysterious feeling, the character development. bro EVERYHTING. i cant BELEIVE you hide so much shit in the tiniest things, make entire comics out of what look like such simple asks but no your ass is over here producing COMICS for this bro..... i’m so jealous oh my GOD...... there’s so much i can think of but it feels so little of what we actually know (confirmed) so far... also i see you editing the playlist... your ass is NOT SLICK!!!

comsider all of these paragraphs and everything i’ve said to you already in vc as revenge for all the genuine most kindest paragraphs i’ve read in my life in the reblogs of tsb fanart... guh.... also off topic from this, i realized this is the first time you’ll see me draw emmet oh my god....

i’m so sure i have more to say but my ass actually cant think of anything brooooo.... maybe i’ll send you paragraphs in dms when i think of it and actually remember it GUH.... OH OH WAIT WAIT ALL THE JOKES THAT WE’VE MADE. dude i’m always just being so silly in vc and i think it’s really silly and comedic when you’re over there making silly little doodles and i just go “you should draw tsmg4/smg4 with long hair/smg34” or other alike things.... i don’t think i’ll also ever live down the times when i fell asleep on vc and you were there for i think all of them except maybe 1 ? i have no clue... bro your voice genuinely so calming i’m gonna fall asleep again some day 😭😭

okay enough yapping about that i THINK...., when I first found you, it was literally from the lipbite part 1 comic 😭😭 and i was like “oh hey, i actually kind of really like this person’s art!!” so yk. i followed you!!! if i told my past self that i’d be sitting here right now, typing all of this out, they wouldnt believe me. I’m genuinely just so baffled at the mere thought of being here and being able to call you a friend. hell. i’d even say best friends / close friends bro... i cannot even fathom the thought of that in the past, yet, here i am, able to call you a friend that i talk to about regularly i’d say.

I want to say it again; Happy birthday Tomm, I hope you have one of the best birthdays in your life and thank you for everything.

-Neo 💙

also,,, here’s a silly meme

part 1 of 2 ... i mean. who said that!!!!

part 2 here

[bludraws094]

gimme ideas for how to torture feather once i finish this stupid fucking homeschool shit

[sassyfever]

Now that the new mini arc is finally starting Imma make a couple predictions. Angelina is now a bizarre doll and ✨coincidentally✨at the hotel. Grelle is also there. For drama's sake you know how it goes.

[coridallasmultipass]

.

[dbphantom]

maybe i should have gone into practical effects instead of computer science...

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[dollfacefantasy]

clark kent x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, car sex, mating press a/n: ummm yeah i need him so bad it makes me ill <3

for as long as you'd known clark, you'd never known him to lose his temper. he was forever-patient, your boyfriend. understanding to almost a frustrating degree. especially with you, his little love.

he was already pretty easy to get along with, but on the rare occasion you did have issues, clark seemed to have a natural instinct for deescalating you. he never raised his voice, never spoke an unkind word about you, never gave you a look harsher than what could be described as stern.

all it took to calm you down was a glimpse of his natural puppy-dog eyes and pretty plush lips. his thick arms would circle around you and hold you to his chest. he'd sway back and forth with you a little, a small smile on his face as you melted into the embrace. whatever semblance of tension or irritation that had been bubbling up easily dissolved into a puddle between the two of your bodies.

so, all that to say, you didn't really believe clark possessed any kind of rough edge or combative instinct. despite his large stature, you couldn't really picture him ever being rough.

that was until tonight.

you and clark had planned to drop by some event at the talon, but your sweet boyfriend had warned you earlier that he found out there'd probably be some trouble there later. some potentially dangerous situation that he wanted you avoiding at all costs. it was for your safety. he just wanted you to stay home where he wouldn't be worried while him and chloe investigated.

but did you listen to him? of course not. you went anyways, not in the mood to listen to his vague explanations as to how he even discovered this information in the first place. you put on a cute little dress with some new shoes you bought specifically for the night and took off.

unfortunately for you, clark had turned out to be right. not even thirty minutes after you arrived, chaos broke out. people flew through walls and glass shattered everywhere, all because of some guy who looked like his body could stretch and bend like a rubberband. it totally sucked. but none of that was even the worst part. you survived the craziness of whatever that person's problem was. the real danger came when the dust settled and you saw clark across the room staring at you.

he looked pissed.

he was at your side in an instant, but closing the distance didn't soften him any. it kind of did the opposite since up close he could see a bloody scrape stretching across your cheekbone.

you could see he was worried first and foremost, but behind that concerned top coat a fire burned. as soon as your small wound had been tended to, his long fingers clasped around your bicep. he pulled you to your feet and all but dragged you out of the coffee shop.

"clark i-" you started in an attempt to explain yourself.

"save it," he said, voice as cold as you'd ever heard it, "i asked you for one thing. that's it. stay home for your own good. don't come out here and pointlessly risk your life."

"it wasn't that bad," you defend weakly.

"but why even take the chance?" he asked with true exasperation, "i shouldn't need to convince you that your safety is more important than whatever they had going on tonight."

he didn't continue the lecture beyond that. just walked with a clenched jaw and motivated stare in the direction of his truck. like always, he opened the door for you when you got there. though this time, he practically scooped you up and dumped you into the car.

he was silent as he drove, fingers tight around the steering wheel. you could practically feel the frustration rolling off of him. the urge to lash out for once was near spilling over. he pulled the car over, and you figured you were really in for it. in a way you were right, just not how you thought.

clark didn't bother yelling, didn't try to start a fight. he glared at you for a few silent seconds before leaning across the seats and crashing his lips against yours. he kissed you like he wanted to steal the breath from your lungs.

after a blur of clothing being shifted around and positioning body parts awkwardly in the confined space, you found yourself in the meanest mating press of your life.

you were folded in half beneath all of clark's weight. the points of your new heels scraped up the truck's ceiling while your knees squished against your chest. little squeaks and whines slipped their way out of you as his tip battered against your cervix. he was so deep you swore you could feel your insides rearranging to make room for him.

"clarkkkk," you mewled before biting your lip, desperately searching for some way to ground yourself. one set of your fingers gripped strands of his dark hair while the other held a fist of his flannel.

"what, baby?" he panted. for once, clark wasn't fawning over you between thrusts. he wasn't cooing or praising you for taking him so well. instead, he had his face against your neck and his hands wrapped around your waist, bucking into your dripping heat with enough force to rock the car.

you tried to force out words to convey what you were thinking. too big. too much. so deep. harder. faster. none of those made it though. only choked moans and then a sharp squeal when he rolled his hips and struck that extra-sensitive sweet spot inside you.

"someone's gonna see if they drive by," you whimpered, squirming underneath him.

"maybe you should hold still then and let me finish, huh?" he grunted, "no one's gonna see. everyone's in town dealing with the mess from tonight. the one i told you was gonna happen."

"i didn't think-"

"i know you didn't," he interrupted, "didn't use that pretty little head at all, did you?"

words of defense eluded you right now, his nonstop thrusts keeping your mind cloudy. instead you chose to whine, your lip quivering he rolled his hips deeper yet again.

"oh yeah?" he asked, as if you'd said something coherent.

you opened your mouth again to speak, to really argue back this time, but you were cut off by your own desperate cry when his hands tugged you closer and speared you even further on his cock. you could feel him grinning against your neck at the noise.

"i know, baby. i know you're sorry. you don't have to explain. thinking's too hard for you right now, yeah?" he cooed, his tone bordering on mocking.

your pout got more severe but so did the needy sounds escaping your mouth. you felt those long fangs of his scrape against your throat. his tongue then glided across the area, making you shudder.

"clark-" you tried to say something else, but he cut you off. he raised his head up and kissed you deep again, swallowing the words right from your mouth. when he pulled back for air, he rested his sweaty forehead against yours.

"you can be such a brat," he breathed, "so much whining even though i know you love this."

the truck creaked as his movements continued to jostle it. you felt his breath fanning across your face and watched as his eyes fluttered shut. you knew he was getting close, but so were you. your cunt squeezed around him rhythmically, coaxing him too the edge along with you.

"you gonna cum, baby?" he finally muttered against your lips.

you nodded eagerly, more than ready to release. it only took a few more hard thrusts to get you there, and clark followed along no problem. in the afterglow, he laid on top of you for a minute or so, trapping you in a cage of searing body heat.

when he finally did sit up, the two of you fixed your clothes and stretched your limbs. he looked over at you with more tenderness. your boyfriend's gentle temperament had seemingly returned with the relief his peak brought.

he cupped your jaw with his fingers, looking over that cut on your face. leaning in, he gave it a small kiss before starting up the car again.

"i'm just trying to look out for you, you know? just... please listen next time. i don't know what i'd do if you got hurt. you had me worried sick."

"i will. i'm sorry i scared you," you replied softly. your eyes studied the loving look in his eyes and the way his features seemed so at peace now that all his adrenaline was out of his system.

you grabbed his hand across the seats and traced little patterns on his knuckles for the drive home. he let you play with his fingers but shot you a glance.

"i'm serious. next time you get involved with something like that i won't let you off so easy," he teased.

you smiled and nodded, wanting to put his mind at ease. though in the back of your mind, a small part of you considered trying again some time, just to see what "not so easy" looked like to him.

[writingsbychlo]

BUY ME PRESENTS | draco malfoy

summary; draco loves you, and you love him. he just needs a little push to make things official. OR, draco malfoy fighting for his life when he realises just how much everyone wants his girl.

word count; 8928

notes; this is based on christmas eve, but I'm posted a couple days later! this fic puts us half way through our slytherin boy holidays! I'm not sure how the one I expected to be the shortest became the longest one so far. like, seriously, I know I keep saying this but wtf? why can't I write a short fic?

Dinner had already been served by the time you made it to the Grand Hall, the smells of roasted meats and seasoned potatoes filling the air, your mouth watering as you navigated between the throngs of people. Your seat had been saved, of course. A spot on the bench between Draco and Daphne, and as you neared, your friends noticed, smiles rising and waves in your direction. 

Sinking into your seat, you pressed a kiss to the cheek of the blond boy beside you, his face tipping up to receive it and lips twisting into a smile, attention moving to you as you sat. 

“Good day?”

“Better now that it’s over.” You smiled, a chuckle falling from him, and his hand came to rest upon your thigh, squeezing comfortingly while you helped yourself to a plate of whatever food was left. “What are we talking about, what did I miss?”

“Not much. Just Theo telling us all about Christmas in Italy.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, as though you all hadn't heard this exact same speech since that very first Christmas you’d become friends. Most of the group seemed to have simply tuned it out, laughing and nodding at the correct times as they whispered their own conversations. 

A swipe of a thumb over your thigh as you finished filling your plate with food, and you shifted your attention to Draco. “So, what are your Christmas plans, Dray?”

Shuffling a little bit closer now that your plate was full, his arm moved to lay across your shoulders instead, letting you snuggle up into his side. “Oh, you know, the usual.” 

He smiled, and your world seemed to get a little bit brighter, his lips brushing your hairline as he left a barely-present kiss there. 

“Typical Malfoy-family Christmas. I get to do the tour with my parents, visiting every other rich-arsehole couple they know. Christmas Eve party. The pleasure of my father’s annual ‘you’re growing up now, son, it’s time to get serious about the world’ over the dinner table on Christmas Day. Open some presents I don’t want, on a schedule I don’t like.” He sighed, clearly used to it by now, but it didn’t make it sound any less awful.

“Well,” You smile, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Maybe we could write to one another, or even get a little visit in?” 

The hope in your voice was evident, and Pansy gave you an encouraging smile across the table. You’d been meaning to ask Draco this question for weeks now, and your last chance had been fast approaching. Since the summer, you and Draco had been hooking up. It was no secret among your friends, or even the students; your affections for one another were hardly contained, but it wasn't official. 

You wanted the labels, the security, and the safety of knowing that he was yours and you were his, and nobody else could come between you. You wanted to be introduced to his parents, be his date at events, to have him be proud to call you his girl. But Draco had been hesitant, avoiding every conversation that might inch into the ‘so, what are we?’ territory, keeping a safe distance from any kind of real commitment. 

It wasn’t enough for you anymore, not by a long shot, but trying to talk to Draco about it only ended up with him shutting it down, or skilfully diverting the conversation and you were growing tired of his games. 

Draco only made a vague noise, neither an agreement nor disagreement, and looked away from you as he picked up his drink to take a sip. “I don’t know… maybe. I can get pretty busy over the holidays, I’d hate to let you down.”

Another skill of his, making it seem like cancelling or delaying or not doing something at all was your idea. He was clearly hoping you’d brush it off, and tell him not to worry about it, but instead, you kept quiet. Not giving him the satisfaction of any easy win, this time. 

Pansy caught your eye across the table, shaking her head disapprovingly, and shooting a glare at an oblivious Draco. She had been your confidant these last few months, every update and development in your situationship, she’d been informed of. Every decision, she’d been a part of. She was practically as invested as you were, at this point, and she certainly did not approve of his nonchalant behaviour either. 

“Speaking of parties,” Mattheo cut Theo off, clearly having had enough of the annual rehashing of ‘that one Christmas when Theo was eight’ for today, and changing the subject, “Who’s got their dates sorted for the Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball, and who’s daring to go solo and have Narcissa set them up like a matchmaker all night long?”

Chuckles rang out among the group, and Pansy smiled, leaning into Blaise’s side with a love-struck grin. “I think we’re safe this year.”

“I’m going solo, but, I did tell Aunty Cissa that I have my eye on a girl in one of my classes, and I’m seeing how it plays out. So, she’s not setting me up anytime soon, since she believes I’m already onto someone.” Enzo smirked, and Blaise congratulated him for his clever tactics. 

You smirked through your mouthful of food, listening to Mattheo explain his complex excuse, to Reggie mournfully spill the story of how he’s already been set up by his parents witha ‘potential bride to meet’, and how he hopes she doesn’t show up. You laugh with the others as Tom simply raises an eyebrow, knowing that even Narcissa doesn’t attempt to set him up anymore, lest he scare away any more of her friends’ daughters. Theo, ever the player he is, is looking forward to dancing with every single lady he can find, and taking his pick at the end of the night.

“I suppose nobody needs to ask Draco who his date will be.” Mattheo grins, wiggling his brows at the pair of you as you smile, leaning a little further into the man at your side. 

“Hey, who knows?” He chortles, and your eyes narrow a little, “I’ve had plenty of offers. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“Oooh.” Enzo’s eyes went wide, the other boys joining in, and Pansy fixed him with a glare. Daphne leaned around you with her jaw dropped at his statement, and you sat up from his embrace, lips pressed flat and a brow raised. 

The boys snickered, ‘he’s in shit’ and ‘someone’s in the doghouse’, but he lived for the spotlight, a drama queen at heart, and he smirked down at you. 

“Oh, c’mon. Don’t look at me like that, babe.” The playful nickname was one he only ever used when joking around. When he was sincere, he was much more romantic; darling, sweetheart, beautiful. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hi mum, hello father, meet the girl I’m skipping class to shag! Thanks for paying my tuition!’, I don’t think so.”

The boys all laughed, Daphne scoffed in sync with her sister behind you, and Pansy looked like she’d lunge across the table at any moment, if it wasn’t for her chastising Blaise for laughing, instead. ‘You and Draco can share that couch you’ll both be sleeping on tonight’, she’d said. ‘See how funny you think it is then’.

The words stung as he spoke them, dismantling your relationship down to the bare minimum; to sex and physical connection and nothing else. Like the nights spent talking until the sun came up were nothing, the times you’d held him while he cried, or washed him in the bath when he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open. Like he didn’t rub your stomach for hours every month when you got cramps, or had a stash of your favourite snacks in his bedside table for whenever you came over. 

You knew that Draco Malfoy lived you, just as much as you loved him. It was evident in everything he did, every kiss and every word. But, he needed a little push.

“I suppose you’re right,” You sigh lightly, giggling along with the laughing boys around the table. “I’m not so sure Lucius wouldn't burst a blood vessel then and there.”

“Exactly.” Draco hummed, and you glanced back to Pansy. She was shocked, only for a second, before taking in the subtle signs of mischief on your face. Her own smirk stretched out in return, and her gaze flickered once to Draco, before back to you. 

A new game was afoot, and Draco wasn’t going to stand a chance.

Slipping your coat from your shoulders, the annual Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball was well underway. Your parents had disappeared into the crowds before you’d even stepped out of the carriage, uncaring of where you were as long as you weren’t causing trouble. They were here to mingle with the other importants, and you were just here to learn the ropes of proper socialising.

The garment was taken from you, your small bag clutched in hand as a ticket was given to you for it, and you brushed down the front of your dress delicately. Pearls moved under your touch, beading along the bodice flat and perfected, and you felt your confidence rise as you looked at yourself once more in the reflection of a dark window. Adjusting the small lace gloves on each hand, you took a step towards the dining room. 

Elegant music was playing from a live band up on a stage, the room was decorated this year to look like a winter escape. Pale and frosty, like a palace of ice, twinkling lights and glittering decor, crisp white tablecloths and ice sculptures. A layer of goosebumps travelled along your skin at the sight of it all, despite the warming charms that took place for the guests. 

Scanning the room, you quickly found your table. The designated kids table, despite you all being legal adults and far beyond such status. You’d all be the babies of the ball until the new generation emerged, no doubt. Moving through the bodies and crowds of people politely, Theo was the first to glance up and spot you, his mouth falling open, and a rush of confidence took over as he raised two fingers to his lips and whistled. 

The sound caught the attention of the others’ chatter fading to quiet as they all turned to look for the object of his cat-calling, Enzo’s eyes widened, Pansy cheered loudly, and even Mattheo looked momentarily speechless. You’d had the same reaction when you’d seen yourself in the dress too, your stylist had truly outdone herself for this one. 

You looked flawless, and you looked expensive, and utterly elegant. Doing a little spin as you approached, a smile broke free on your lips as you stopped before the chair with your name card before it. 

“Merlin, babe,” Pansy started, drawing your attention straight her her, “You’ve got every eye on you tonight. If I was single, I’d be all over you.” 

She winked when you laughed, and Blaise rolled his eyes but smiled, leaning in to kiss her cheek affectionately. 

“Pretty necklace,” She commented, and your fingers rose to the pretty string of pearls and diamonds that you had. 

“It was a gift,” You simply hummed, tugging at your gloves. Glancing at the others, you gave each a polite smile, eyes lingering on Draco as he stared. In any other style, this dress would be scandalous for an event like this. A low neckline, spaghetti straps, no sleeves. Tight and fitted to every curve of your body, and yet the classic designs and vintage nature elevated it to the kind of class Audrey Hepburn would be proud of. 

He looked just as good, a dark suit, a fresh white shirt, a champagne-coloured tie that made the colour of his eyes and his hair stand out and your mouth dried out a little. Silver rings adorned his fingers, the Malfoy signet standing out, clenched so tightly around his whiskey glass that his knuckles were almost white. 

You’d worn soft, golden makeup effects today, a dusting of glitter along your cheekbones and eyelids, a shade of pink on your cheeks and lips that you knew was his weakness. 

“Someone really wanted your attention with that, huh?” Your best friend teased, and your eyes snapped away from Draco, back to her. 

“I suppose so,” You muse, hand coming up to touch one of the beads on your ear, “Since they also got me this lovely pair of matching earrings.”

Pansy made a dramatic show of admiring them, and Blaise gave a funny look, glancing at the jewellery, and then back at Draco, who was frowning. Before you could reach for your chair after placing your clutch down, Enzo was shooting to his feet from beside you, tugging out the chair for you. 

Draco scoffed as you gave him a thank you, settling into your seat, and he glared at the man beside you. Enzo didn’t flinch, however, smirking at Draco as he spoke;

“What? It’s called being a gentleman, cousin.”

Crossing your leg delicately, you’d hardly even removed your gloves, before a tray was coming down by your side, and a young waiter with a dazzling smile was looking right at you. 

“Champagne, ma’am?” Not a planned pawn in your game, but a welcome addition, you smiled sweetly in return. 

“Oh, I’d love some. Thank you.” Taking the single glass by the stem, you lifted it from the tray and the man’s smile stretched wider as you sipped the bubbly, holding his eye. 

“Of course, miss. If you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be at the bar, happy to serve.” His flirting was heavy enough that normally you’d want to roll your eyes, but tonight, you suppressed that urge, playing into it as you bat your lashes. 

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Thank you.”

He took the dismissal, staring appreciatively as he walked away, another look over his shoulder to you as you watched him go. 

“Stop eye-fucking the help.” Draco snapped, and your focus moved to him slowly, just to find his icy glare on you. He didn’t scare you, though, all that mean bravado, but you knew what was underneath. 

“I was doing no such thing.” You tut, placing down your drink. “Don’t be jealous, Dray. You look even better in that suit. If you want compliments, just ask. No need to be mean.”

He seemed rather placated by this, his ego settling down, even if the others did laugh at him.

The conversation seemed to continue around you as you settled in, avoiding Draco’s heated stare and sipping at your champagne. The rush of warming alcohol through your veins settled every dancing nerve, and gave you the calm confidence to do what you had planned. Sitting forwards, just enough, you angled your body so that Draco might have the perfect view over your cleavage as you feigned interest in the chatter around you. 

He took the bait, his gaze falling right where you wanted it, the gems of your necklace dangling just over the swell of your breasts, and he licked his lower lip, pulling it between his teeth.

Raising your hands and catching the swinging gem, you toyed with it carefully, letting it run over your fingers. Time melted away as Draco’s gaze flicked between your nimble touch, your lips, and your chest, shuffling in his seat every so often, and gulping at the bubbly in his glass. 

He was on his third refill by the time food started to be taken around, and you took pity on him momentarily, sitting back in your chair and angling away from him, ready to receive your first course. 

As the starters came around, you turned to thank your waiter, surprised to see it was the same man from the bar who had brought you your champagne. You’d given him little thought since he’d walked away, and you’d never spotted him again, but perhaps that was exactly why he was delivering your food now, as he beamed at you and set down the plate. 

Men did love a little attention, after all. 

Reaching for the bottle of champagne cooling in the centre of the table, the waiter never looked away from you as he refilled your glass without being asked. Draco finally seemed to notice as he finished adjusting his napkin, gaze narrowing on the man serving you. “You’ve got to be kidding me…” He muttered.

You pretended to take no notice, smiling at the man and waving your fingers flirtily as he walked away.

“I’m going to get another drink at the bar,” He announced, leaving without his glass and without asking if anyone else wanted one. You knew where he was truly going, if the lock of his jaw and the stamp in his step were any indication. You doubted you’d be seeing that waiter again.

As you poked at your food, Pansy excused herself too, only a few bites into her meal before she disappeared with a wicked grin and no explanation to anyone. Enzo just chuckled beside you, glancing around the room like he was watching all the cogs of a machine in motion, before turning his gaze on you. “You do look lovely tonight, do you know that?”

“Of course I do. I spent days on end trying on dress after dress to find this.” You sighed, admiring the gorgeous piece of art on your body as you set your cutlery down. 

“And is it serving the purpose you need it to?” He teased, voice knowing, and you nodded. Flicking your gaze over the patrons and guests in the room, you searched for Draco, finding him talking politely to one of his mother’s friends at the bar. 

“It is, I think.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way.” He whispered, your focus still on the man who truly held your heart, who was making his polite excuse and walking way, back towards you all. His gaze locked on yours, only for a second, before Pansy was calling your name and drawing your focus elsewhere. 

When you looked up to her, she was grinning, a man by her side. “This is Elliot, he’s been wanting to meet you for some time. I promised him I’d introduce you both tonight.”

You offered the best smile you could as his cheeks reddened, and Pansy merely patted him on the shoulder, slinking away as you offered your hand to him. “Lovely to meet you, Elliot.”

“You too. As embarrassing as that introduction was, it’s true. I have wanted to meet you for some time.” He had a kind smile and pretty eyes, and he seemed far too nice to be dragged into your game tonight, but he seemed almost like a willing participant, and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. As Draco took his seat, Elliot continued, “Pansy has told me so much about you. You know, if you’re free one day before you go back to that fancy boarding school of yours, I’d love to take you out.”

“Yeah? What have you got in mind?” You smile, twisting a little more to face him, and your encouragement only brightens his expression as Draco’s darkens in your peripheral.

“A night in London, perhaps. We could get dinner, and see the opera?”

“She doesn’t like the opera.” Draco sneered, openly staring at Elliot with enough contempt to scare away lesser men. Elliot tugged at his collar, glancing at Draco, and then back to you as you tried to hide your shock at his behaviour.

“The theatre, then?”

Draco looked ready to snap again, and before he could, you nodded, sparing your unwilling partner. “That sounds wonderful, I’ll see what my schedule says. I’ll get in touch with you through Pansy if I can find the time, is that okay?”

“Perfect.” He smiled, sneaking another wary glance at Draco who was not backing down from glaring at him unflinchingly, but Elliot shook it off, bravely. “It was a pleasure to meet you, truly.”

“And you, Elliot.”

Soon after he left, the plates were being cleared. You tried not to smirk as a different waiter, and one who very pointedly did not so much as even catch your gaze, cleared your dishes away at record speed. 

You knew that Draco had something, everything, to do with that. He was jealous by nature, a spoilt single child who did not like to share his favourite toys, and that is exactly what you were betting on tonight.

You stood, taking a lap around the room with Pansy to settle your food before the next course, and to get another drink. She took the opportunity to fill you in on how her first Christmas event with Blaise’s family had gone, and when you returned, you made sure to surreptitiously place yourself behind Draco’s chair. 

You placed a hand on his shoulder, a friendly gesture, squeezing and rubbing enough that your thumb swept over his collar and across his neck. His pulse jumped under your touch, and he tipped his head closer, into your touch. 

As he did so, your heart leapt in your chest. To others, it might look like a friendly gesture but to you, it meant so much more. You were tempted to cave then and there, to live with this being enough, to settle, but you couldn't. You didn’t want this to be it, you wanted to follow this by leaning down to kiss him, to have him smile against your lips in public the way he did when you were alone. 

To arrive at these events together, arms linked, and to stumble out tiredly together too. To sit by him, his hand on your thigh, to rest your head on his shoulder, to kiss him on the dance floor. The thought was enough to push you through. 

He twisted his head, to kiss your hand like he often did when you did this. Carefully, you slipped your hand away just in time, knuckles brushing across the nape of his neck as you stepped away, and back to your seat. 

His sights moved to you, but like a saving grace, the servers began to appear with more dishes, and dinner soon distracted you all. A delicious serving of salmon and potatoes, and the hall fell quiet enough for you to hear the beautiful music playing when chatter fell low. 

Low conversation, drinks refilled, and that perfect mood set across the room, as people took to the tables and quieted down. Your favourite part of the night, usually. Good food, your friends, and a chance to catch up without the usual weight of it all sitting on you. Regulus was talking, telling the rare story that had him caught up in a long conversation where he usually just observed quietly, but your attention was fixed on your lover. 

Until, Theo spoke up. 

“Oh, merda,” He muttered across Reggie’s’ story, his gaze cutting to you alarmingly quickly. “I forgot to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Your heart skipped a beat, a flash of panic.

“My cousin flew in last minute for the party, and he wants to speak to you.” Theo’s words soothed your panic, and you offered him a flat look for the dramatic way he’d put it. Taking a sip from your glass, you raised a brow.

“When?”

“Now.” He confirmed, sights lifting to sit just behind you, and before you could even turn, a chair was being pulled up beside your own from another table. Turning your head to the owner, a smile burst across your face at the man sitting before you. 

“Dario!” Your arms were around his neck before you could stop yourself, and he was chuckling as he bundled you into an equally enthusiastic hug. He chuckled lightly, pulling back only far enough to press a friendly kiss to your cheek, and you cupped his face as you parted from him. “You’re growing a beard!”

“My mother hates it.” He chuckled, rubbing a hand over it. As you twisted a little more towards him, he reached down, practically manhandling you as he reached for the edge of your seat by your legs, tugging it sideways to face him. You squealed as the chair jolted, screeching on the floor, tugging you closer as he leaned in. “Sei incantevole.”

“Are you charming me in Italian?” You smirk, a boyish smile on his face as he lounged back in his seat. “What are you doing here, anyway? Theo said none of you were flying in this year! I thought you couldn't make it.”

“I couldn't,” He sighed, shrugging, “But, then I heard that you would be here, without a date, and I knew I just had to make it. So, here I am, la mia bella donna. You think a short flight from Italy would stop me rushing over here to you?”

Your giggle was against your control. Even if he was more like family than a romantic interest, the way his accent twisted around coyly spoken words, was enough to bring a blush to even the most unreceptive woman’s face. “Cut it out, you flirt.”

“You’ll save me a dance later, right?”

“We’ll see.” He rose his brow, and you lifted your glass, taking a sip of bubbly to hide your smile, leaving him hanging. “Depends on how much more of your cheesy flirting I can endure.”

“You mean my wonderful Italian charm?” He teased, pinching one of your cheeks, and deepening the flush he had already created. “Don’t think I don’t see the way I make you blush.

You could only scoff, mouth dry as you tried to think of a retort, and you didn’t miss Theo muttering in Italian behind you, curse words you’d picked up on tumbling from his mouth. 

“Perhaps this can convince you,” Dario reaches for his inner pocket, producing a small, slim box. An excited squeak breaks from you as he hands it over, your fingers brushing the elegant leather, an Italian name embossed across the front. “Open it later, alright?”

You could only nod, admiring it happily, before slipping the box safely inside of your clutch. He took your hand, kissing your knuckles as he stood. A final wink as he offered you hid charming goodbyes, and a farewell to the rest of the table, before returning his borrowed chair to where he had taken it from. 

You watched as your friend left, disappearing into the crowd, no doubt to mingle and socialise as he had always been so good at, before you swung back around in your chair. 

“He taught you everything you know, huh, Nott?”

Theo only shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face. “What can I say, tesoro? We Nott men just have charm. We’ll woo your panties right off.” He winked, the cockiness not lasting long as Draco swung at him, a fist landing roughly on his arm as the Malfoy heir scowled, glaring at his best friend. 

“Cut it out.” He growled the words through gritted teeth, and your hand shot up, rubbing at your lip to hide your grin as Draco made no effort to hide his own emotions. Theo only laughed, rubbing at the patch on his arm he’d taken the hit.

Dessert was served, a beautiful display of ice cream and winter berries that almost looked too good to eat. The key word being almost. You hadn't been able to resist, however, and the first small groan you’d let out as the sugar hit your tongue had Draco’s gaze snapping straight to you. I did not leave, once, after. 

Instead, he watched, through a dark gaze, every curl of your lips around the spoon, every swipe of your tongue to catch the juice of burst berries. If you’d put on a little extra show, just for him, nobody else had to know. 

It was like he was staring right into your soul, so intense, even after the meal was long since finished. Finally, you indulged him once again, turning to look at him and raising a brow. “Yes, Draco?”

“You look beautiful tonight, I am simply admiring.” He let his gaze move across you slowly, making his admiration apparent, and his gaze lingered a fraction of a second longer on your neck. He stared at you with open adoration, the kind of look that told you exactly how he felt, even if he was fighting it, but he was close to breaking. He was close to losing this game he didn’t know he was playing. Then, his gaze flickered over your shoulder, sweet observation morphing. His brows drew together, his open hand slamming down on the table hard enough to make the glass rattle. “Oh, fucking hell…”

Mattheo erupted with sudden laughter, loud and brash, and there was a tap on your shoulder before you could even ask him what had him in such hysterics. A young man you did not know, perhaps a few years younger than you, and glanced around the table to see which of your friends had put this one together. Each seemed to have caught on in their own time, and had a hand in adding to the fun, to watch Draco suffer more, but none of them were laying any claim to this one. 

“I’ve been watching you all evening, and you are beautiful.” He smiled, stuttering over his words slightly, and Draco made no shy show of his disdain, rolling his eyes and making a disapproving sound. “I was wondering if you might grant me the pleasure of a dance?”

“She would dance with you,” Enzo interrupted, before you could speak at all, leaning forward toward the edge of your chair from his own, and you could have kissed him in gratitude for saving you. “But, she promised me her first dance. Isn’t that right, love? And I think now is the perfect time. Let’s go.”

Offering you his hand, you took it, letting him sweep you away without a second’s delay, navigating you both to the dance floor and twirling you expertly into his arms. One hand clasped your own, the other sitting at a respectable place on your waist, your own on his shoulder, and he fell into the well-rehearsed steps of a classical ballroom dance he’d been doing since he could walk. 

You let out a shaky sigh, relief flooding your veins as you looked back to your seat, noticing that the boy had taken Enzo’s rejection well and disappeared, not hanging around and waiting for your return.��

“You’re killing him slowly, like a predator playing with its prey,” Enzo smirked, neither of you needing to clarify who you were talking about, as he brought up his cousin. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” He chuckled, spinning you out before pulling you back in, sharp actions that made you dizzy with their accuracy, and you grinned as he brought you tumbling right back into his arms, perfectly. If he’d been trying to win you over, his dancing alone would’ve had you swooning. “You just show up to a fancy event like this, dripping in diamonds and pearls and looking like a million bucks, supposedly single. You mean to tell me you didn’t know that all these rich London boys wouldn't descend on you like vultures?”

“Not my fault I’m single and hot, Enz.”

He just laughed, dipping you a little. “We do struggle, don’t we.” You wove between people, a happy silence falling between you both once again as he guided you over the floor, back and forth, “Are you, though? Single, I mean.”

“That is up to your cousin.”

“Touché.”

You continued to move, until your feet were sore from all the twirling, clinging to Enzo in fits of giggles as he spun and twirled and dipped you more, hands on your waist as he lifted you through the air, making a show of his dancing. 

He may have seemed altruistic in his gestures, sweeping in to save you and Draco from your dance with the boy, but he was using you too. Enzo was taking every opportunity to show off his moves to every lady around the room watching, a flirty smile on his face between conversations and he glanced around, and you wouldn't be surprised if he received more offers than Theo or Dario by the end of the night. 

As the third song came to an end, and the music fell for just a second, you panted slightly, arm around his neck now, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and a bright smile. “Can we take a break?”

“Tired, already? You only gave me three so far.” He smirked at the way your jaw dropped, your face going hot and you knew your cheeks were red. You untangled yourself from his body, barely making it a step away from his laughter before he wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you into his side. “Oh, c’mon. I thought the aim was to flirt and make him mad?”

“He’s not even here to listen!”

“I’m practising,” Enzo murmured, steering you towards the bar, and leaning on the wood as he flagged down the bartender. You were quickly served, by a woman who fawned over Enzo as she passed by, and you had to snap your fingers in front of his face to snap his gaze away from her retreating form. “So, how long are you going to make him—”

A tap on Enzo’s shoulder cut him off, and he turned to look, straightening up instantly from his slumped position. As soon as he moved so you could see, your relaxation melted away too, as you found yourself face to face with Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. 

“Lorenzo, I’ve hardly had a chance to talk to you all evening. I want to ask you about your schoolwork.” The impressively formal and deep voice of Lucius Malfoy settled over your skin like fresh snow, cold but smooth, and you shuddered. 

Narcissa only chuckled lightly at her husband’s words, her eyes on you. “You’ve been busy, though. Who is your lovely lady?”

“Uncle Lucius, Aunt Cissa. This is my friend, (Y/n).”

It wasn’t exactly the circumstances you’d wanted to meet them under, but you smiled nonetheless, nerves running wild as you offered your hand to them both, shaking politely just as your parents had taught you. 

“Ah, (Y/n). Yes. I make a point of knowing all of Draco’s school friends, but I’m in business with your father, aren’t I?” Something like a small kernel of sweetness was buried in that statement, his interest in his son’s life, even if he tried to hide it behind formalities, but it wasn’t your place to comment. 

“Yes, sir. That is correct.”

“They’re very proud of your schoolwork. They were telling me about your latest project. You synthesised a new potion to grow murkweed faster, is that true?”

You were surprised he knew so much, your small project submitted for Herbology was the last thing you’d expected Lucius Malfoy to know of, or take an interest in, and your mouth felt like sandpaper as you tried to form words. “Yes. Yes, sir. That’s right.”

“Interesting.” That calculating gaze scanned over you, analysing you from head to toe, like he could see right through you with a single glance. “That is impressive, for someone of your age. I’d be open to learning more. Are you considering making a future out of your alchemy talents? I have connections that I could contact for you.” 

You were speechless, your stomach going wild with butterflies born of both excitement and anxiety. He smirked, a look that would set you on edge if you weren’t sure deep down that this was in your interests, not against them. 

“Perhaps we can discuss it more soon, when we next see you. With Enzo?”

Enzo’s arm around your waist shifted, a reassuring weight that you were sure had been your only grounding presence for this surreal conversation. He patted your hip encouragingly. “Oh, no, we aren’t…” 

Motioning between you both, Lucius’ brows furrowed, and Narcissa tried to hide her sigh.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Aunt Cissa. (Y/n) isn’t mine, though it is wonderful that you approve.” Before either could question him, or expand on their confusion, Enzo gave your waist a final rub, before removing his touch from you entirely, and stepping towards his family. “Shall we go and discuss schoolwork then, Uncle? You have questions, and I have answers. I hope the ones you want.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Y/l/n).” Lucius politely offered you his hand again, shaking it firmly, and that was about as friendly a dismissal as you’d ever get from him, you’d heard. This was only supported by the surprised look on Narcissa’s face, and the beam Enz gave you as he guided his uncle away. 

“I hope to see you again soon, (Y/n). You look wonderful this evening, thank you for coming.” Narcissa murmured, before following her husband and nephew, glancing back at you only once over her shoulder. She knew. The woman was far more cunning than she let on, the true embodiment of a sneaky Slytherin, observing quietly and taking everything in. Her eyes glinted. She knew you knew she knew, too.

Your heart was pounding, cheeks warm as you lifted your fingers to them cautiously. The disappointed waitress placed down two drinks before you, Enzo long gone without his, but you smiled at her with appreciation, fingers shaking a little as you lifted the glass to your lips to take a sip. 

You’d spoken to Draco’s parents. 

They’d liked you. Lucius had offered to put you onto the career path, and Narcissa had complimented your dress. A soft laugh of disbelief slipped free, your eyes sliding closed for just a second as you revelled in the moment. 

It hasn’t been what you’d set out for tonight, but it was far more than what you’d hoped for. Opening your eyes again, to head back to the table and find Draco, you were met by the sight of a stranger leaning before you on the bar, grinning down at you in amusement. “Hello.”

“Hi.” You gave a terse smile, and a single nod. “If you’ll excuse me—”

“I didn’t even get to ask you to dance yet. Saw you out on the floor with the Berkshire boy, earlier, and I thought—”

“I’m dancing with her next, mate. Piss off.” 

Draco rarely sounded that mad, a chill went down your spine as you felt an arm slide around your waist, tugging you back into his chest. “Dray…”

The stranger only scoffed, glaring at Draco as he wandered away, and your hand reached for his forearm on your body. He snatched it away too soon, however, tugging on your hip to turn you around. His jaw was clenched tight, eyes more frozen than the coldest glacier. “Dance with me.”

Not a request, and he didn’t wait for an answer, before plucking your drink from your hand and slamming it down onto the bar, guiding you back to the swaying bodies. Standing before you, you offered him your hand, your hand sitting lightly on his shoulder. He didn’t take the respectable route, instead, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, sweeping you close to his body, and beginning to move you both in simple steps. 

It was several minutes before he relaxed, your arm sliding further around his neck in a more intimate hold, bringing the two of you much closer, swaying slowly. The tension in his body gave way with every step, and with a resigned sigh, he finally spoke, “You met my parents.”

“I did. They were lovely. Very curious about Enzo and I’s relationship.”

His hand clenched on your waist, and you tipped your head at him as his piercing gaze drilled into you. One more move…

“Oh, don’t be so mad, Dray. We’re only shagging, after all. You’ll find a new girl if I get swept away by someone else.”

His eyes narrowed, jaw clenching, and a fire burned in those silver eyes now, melting the ice away with rage. Checkmate.

“You win, alright? I’m not playing this stupid game any longer.” He took a deep breath, and another, fingers twitching on your back as jealousy bubbled under the surface. “For fucks sake, how many pieces of jewellery from other guys are you wearing? Who bought you those earrings, that necklace? I should be the only one buying you gifts. I should be the one spoiling you. You want the Malfoy family ring? I’ll go yank it off my mother’s engagement ring from her finger right now, just take all this off.”

He studied you for a second, confusion growing at the smirk that grew on your lips. Victory was yours, and you leaned in, pressing a delicate kiss to his cheek. Letting the hand from his neck smooth down his chest, his gaze stayed locked on the jewels around your neck, glaring angrily. “No.”

“No?”

“No. It’s pretty. I’m going to keep wearing it all, let it remind you what you have. Next time you piss me off, forget a date, or use the last of my shampoo, I’m going to put it all back on so you can remember how many guys would jump at the chance.” His nostrils flared, but he stayed silent, wisely knowing when to keep his mouth shut. “I don’t want your family ring, Malfoy. Not yet. I just want a proper title, and the respect that comes with it. I’m not your booty call, or your side piece. You don’t want to play games anymore? Then don’t.”

“You already won.” He whispers, his head dropping down to let his forehead rest on your own. “You know how much you mean to me.”

“Yes, I do. But I want the whole world to know it, too, Dray.”

He didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he twisted his head, enough to press his mouth to your own, silencing any more arguments between you both as he kissed you. His lips claimed yours, a tender and loving kiss, showing everyone just how much you meant to him. There was no mistaking the emotions within it, not as his arms wrapped around your body, holding you to him as the pretence of dancing was given up, your hand on the back of his head, fingers in his hair, meeting every push and pull.

When he pulled away, your smile took over, bashful now under his openly adoring gaze, and he stole several more pecks from your lips. A happy sound escaped you as he tugged you in, tucking his face into your neck, and swaying you both to the music. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

“You have, but I’d be open to hearing it again.” Your hand smoothed over his hair, and he chuckled against your skin, leaving a kiss on the crook of your neck before raising to meet your eye. 

“You are breathtaking, darling. I’m in awe. This colour is my favourite, you know.”

“Why do you think I wore it?”

His fingers trailed down your spine, eyes sparkling even more at that revelation. “How about we get out of here? We’ll make our goodbyes to my parents, and head out.”

“Our goodbyes?” You repeated as he took your hand, lacing your fingers together. 

“Yes. From their son and his girlfriend. I think you deserve a proper introduction, after all.”

Tugging you across the floor, he gave you no time to prepare, and certainly, none to disagree, as you smoothed your hair and attempted to control the blush he’d brought to your cheeks. Through the crowds he wove, until he was pulling to a stop just shy of his parents, and Enzo looked as though he could have cried with relief when Lucius’ intense focus was taken away from him. The boy quickly slipped away as both of Draco’s parents turned to face you. 

“Miss (Y/l/n), when we said we hoped to see you again soon, I didn’t realise you’d take it quite this literally.” He murmured, voice as low and calm as always, and your lips parted, a different kind of heat flooding your features. 

“Oh, behave now, Lucius,” Narcissa grinned, her gaze dropping to your clasped hands, before she reached up to her son’s face, pinching his cheek with a smile. “Draco, darling, I’ve hardly seen you all evening.”

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you Mother, but we’ll be leaving early.” She only gave him a knowing look, ignoring Lucius’ displeased huff, as if she wasn’t surprised at all. 

“‘We’?”

“My girlfriend and I.” He said, proud and strong, before tugging you forward a little more to stand in front of him. His hand left your own, circling your waist instead, and she offered him a smile at the news. 

“I see.” She smiled, patting her son’s cheek affectionately, before turning that knowing gaze on you. “Now Lorenzo’s evasiveness whenever I asked him about you makes sense.”

“You asked about me?” Your words were a rushed squeak, which only seemed to amuse Narcissa more. 

“Of course, dear. I wanted to know more about you. I’d ask you to sit and chat with me for a spell, but I believe my son might combust if I did.”

“Mother!” He gasped, and Lucius only tutted. 

“Draco.” His father growled softly, shaking his head, and the red on his son’s cheeks only grew.

“You both may go, for now. But I hope you’ll visit me soon, and we might talk?”

“You mean… just us?” Your words tapered off to a near whisper, and Lucius smirked to himself as Draco rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, dear. We’ll have tea.”

You could only nod, bidding your final farewells to them both in a state of awe, before Draco was hurrying you along. Tight hands gripping your waist, lips on your neck as he loved you through the crowds, swiping up your bag and giving you barely a moment to say goodbye to your friends before sweeping you away again. It was only due to the snow falling outside, you were sure, that he allowed you to stop long enough to get your coats. 

Helping you, he lifted the garment onto you from behind, kissing your cheek as he reached around your body to fasten it. His elegant coat was already on, and leather gloves were on his hands as he offered you one. Lacing your fingers through his own, he smiled, tugging you out into the freezing night, and ushering you around the side of the Manor, away from the stream of cars lined up for guests as they left. 

“Where are we going, Dray?” 

“To one of the gardens near the path.” He never turned back, leading you carefully around patches of ice and slippery snow as you moved, the light from the house fading. It was almost pitch black, before he mumbled a small spell, and the garden lights glowed to light, glittering on the fresh blanket of ice. 

Sitting on the grass was an old-fashioned sleigh, enchanted to keep dry, even in the snow, and two reindeer sat happily in the snow snuffling at the grass and scattered food. 

The landscape stretched out far before you both, trees and grass and walls all covered in snow like something from a Christmas card, and the sigh that left your lips clouded in the air before your face. 

“Oh, Draco…” Taking a few steps closer, snow-tipped over the tops of your heels as you stepped off the pathway onto the grass, chilling your feet for only a second, before Draco was following. Scooping you up into his arms, you kicked the ice from your feet with a giggle, your arms looping around his neck. “What’s all this?”

“This is your Christmas present. I didn’t realise that was the kind of ice you wanted instead.” He muttered, eyes flicking down to your neck, as he carried you carefully through the snow and towards the ornate sleigh. As you leaned in to kiss his cheek, he smiled shyly, avoiding your gaze as he became embarrassed, “I wanted to do something romantic for you. We can take the sleigh back to the town, get a cab, and take the jet anywhere you want to go. Pansy already packed a bag for you.”

He placed you down on the edge of the sleigh, letting you shuffle across onto the warmed leather. With another kiss to your lips, he scoffed at your smile. 

“Merry Christmas, my wicked little girlfriend.”

“I can’t believe you arranged all this.” You were practically bouncing in your seat, watching as Draco nervously tugged on the reins, prompting the lazy animals to stand back up, before settling into the sleigh himself. Like they knew just what to do, they took off in a slow trot, tugging the pair of you along through the snow. 

“Maybe if you’d have waited, instead of making me fight for my life tonight, you’d have been surprised.”

His arm was splayed along the back of the seat, and you snuggled in a little closer to him. Curling his arm around you, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, shaking his head and burying his nose in your hair. “If I didn’t make you fight for me, Dray, you’d probably have introduced me to your mother as your study partner. I gave you a little push, that’s all.”

“Is that so?” He muttered, guiding your face up so he could peck your lips. “Who do you think helped me arrange all of this for my ‘lovely lady friend’, hm? I’ve been writing to my mother about having an interest in someone for months now. You underestimate me.”

“You never gave me any other indication!” 

“Oh, please. You walk me like a damn dog, you knew how I felt.” His mouth closed over your own, stealing a kiss, and you couldn't help but smile into it. “I think tonight just proves it.”

The sleigh trotted on as Draco kissed you in the back, beyond thought and reason, your hands tucked into his coat for warmth as he kept you cuddled in close to his side. 

Minutes melted away, the two of you lost in your own world as you jostled and trotted through the fields, back toward the town. Whatever he had planned, it had been in motion for days, and the thought only made you fall a little more in love with him. Perhaps you had underestimated him, but none of it mattered now, not when he was kissing you like you were his only way to breathe, and you had him in your arms, properly, at last.

“So, Pansy knew about your little plan?”

“Yes. I told her days ago.” 

“Hm…” You loved her, and it was perhaps her knowledge of Draco’s actions that made this all the funnier. “So, she knew about your plan, and mine. And still, she made sure to introduce guys to me all night. She played us both just for her own amusement.”

As you thought of her, your fingers lifted to your neck, sitting on the delicate jewellery there, and Draco huffed. Looping his finger underneath it, he tugged lightly. “Can you take this off now, please?”

“Why would I do that?” His pout deepened, glaring at the offending item, and you gave in with an airy laugh. “Pansy, Daph and Tori picked it out personally.”

“What?” His head snapped up, pout gone as his jaw dropped, and he was not laughing like you were. “You let me believe another guy decked you out in diamonds all night! What about the matching earrings?”

“Blaise.”

“The bracelet?”

“Theo and the Notts.” 

At that mention, his eyes narrowed again, searching for your clutch and finding it resting in your lap. “But Theo’s cousin Mario gave you a separate gift.”

“Dario.” You corrected, and he mimicked it childishly, scoffing afterwards. “Well, that part was real. He truly was flirting, and I have no idea what it is, I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Give it to me.” He reached for your bag, a second too slow as you swiped it away from him with a gasp. He didn’t give up, still trying to snatch it as he leaned over you, pressing you back into the seat through fits of laughter, the two of you fighting over the bag until it was pressed to your chest, your eyes wide as you stared up at him, shaking your head. “Give it to me! I’m chucking it, hand it over!”

“No, it’s mine!” He slumped back into his seat, panting for breath and smoothing his hair back down. He was pointedly staring away in the opposite direction, and when you leaned in closer with a chuckle, he leaned away. Grabbing his shoulder, you planted yourself firmly in his lap, kissing the underside of his jaw. “I’m keeping it, but your present is better, I just know it. Whatever it is, could never beat this.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, Dray.” 

He gave in, wrapping his arms around your waist, tugging you in closer to his body and pressing a happy kiss to your cheek. “Fine, but I’m buying you a new necklace when we get off the damn plane. I don’t care who bought that one.”

[foreverdolly]

ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 3 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking. ( need to edit this later because I'm exhausted right now)

word count: 3.5k

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If the intruder had made another noise then hadn’t been able to hear it. Not over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. Dread washed over you, the blood in your veins turning to ice as you were struck with a sudden realization: 

Either you fought for your life, here and now. . . or you died. 

Your throat locked up, and suddenly you found yourself unable to say anything at all. Shouldn’t you be screaming like a madwoman? Had he seen you undress for the night? Had he been lurking in a corner or a closet as your attendants had run your bath? Was everybody in on this? 

Every nervous smile and antsy movement came rushing back to you. Betrayal slapped you in the face so hard that it stunned you back into motion. 

The knife that you had hidden away in your room after breakfast was shorter than you would have liked- minimal reach, meaning you’d have to get up close to the attacker. Still, you somehow managed to kick the sheets off of you in order to lurch to the side before he was able to brandish his own blade. You heard it cut through the air, the loud tearing of the pillow where your head had just been perched a millisecond ago echoed through the pitch black room. 

You moved towards the door, bare feet against ice cold marble, and finally began to open your mouth to scream for whatever guards were sure to be stationed near the guest quarters. 

“I wouldn’t bother,” The man’s voice sneered, a smile evident in his voice. “No one will save you.” 

There it was. The truth. 

Everyone hated you, but you already knew as much. There was very little you could do in your nightdress- no way you could properly fend off an attacker without any shoes on your feet. Even worse, you had no shield. 

“Why are you doing this?” You questioned, raising the knife so that you were holding it defensively in front of you. You hated how pathetic you sounded with your voice shaking like that. Still, your hands held strong. 

Under immense trauma and stress like this your body had gone into autopilot. Again and again your training has been hammered into you. You must remain calm. Act with surety. 

Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. 

You waited, listening to see if he was getting close to you. The bed creaked, the attacker stepping into a single ray of silver light that had escaped through the blinds.

 It was a guard. 

So this was planned. You should have known enough. You would have thought that Feyd would have been the one to orchestrate the whole thing, but his earlier warning had made it clear to you that he hadn’t wanted you to perish. At least not like this. 

He didn’t say anything else to you before his arm came barrelling down. You stepped to the side, almost tripping over the fabric of your dress in your panic. The cutter blade struck the wall behind you, and in the man’s blind fury he left his side completely defenseless. You surged forward, the knife tightly clutched in your hand, and brought it down hard on his arm. He cried out, the sound nearly deafening you as it echoed off of the empty walls. 

“You bitch!” His weapon clung against the ground. 

Still, his uninjured arm struck against the side of your face. The world tilted beneath you as you stumbled backwards, your spine cracking against the dresser drawer as your knees buckled beneath you. Pain. It felt like he had just drilled a hole clean into the side of your face. No one had ever landed a blow to you like that. The guard took advantage of your stunned state, moving forward so that he could wrap his meaty hands around your throat. 

You needed to use the Voice. He had to stop. . . but his hands were squeezing too tightly. Your lips moved but little more than fearful croaks escaped you. Tears pooled in your eyes at the pressure, at the pain, at the fucking fear that was threatening to swallow you up whole, whole, whole until you were nothing. Your nails scrapped against any bit of skin that you could find. He hissed in pain, using the weight of your own body against you as he slammed you against the dresser where he currently had you pinned. 

You kicked out your legs, desperately trying to find a foothold so that you could wrench yourself upwards. If you were in pants then you might have been able to save yourself, but your bare feet slid out against the loose fabric pooled underneath you. The man had struck when you had been most vulnerable. He was killing you. 

Your eyes widened, the tears finally spilling past the thick wall of your lower lashes. He was killing you. He was killing you. He was killing you. 

With the ringing filling your ears, you hadn’t heard the commotion outside of your door. Only when it slammed open, light from the hall flooding in, did you realize that someone had been alerted. The hands around your throat loosened just enough for you to take a deep, wheezing breath in. 

“Help me.” But you couldn’t reach the correct frequency, not when your vocal cords were so damaged. 

Still, with bleary eyes you stared up at whoever’s large form filled the doorway. Begging them to save you. 

And so they did. 

The world just fell away, like ink on wet paper- it all bled around him. All sound and sight ebbed away, the only thing visible in his rage being your tear filled eyes. Feyd had seen looks of pure terror on the faces of men he had bested countless times before. It never meant much to him. The lives he had taken never weighed heavy on his shoulders. He never cared much for anything aside from his own ambitions. He had goals- found minor joy in sharpening his mind and his blades. 

 He had carried his memories of you from childhood with him into adulthood, each glance and nervous smile acted as a balm that soothed any future traumas or worries. He knew that one day he would be standing exactly where he was right then, with you within arms length. 

This wasn’t what he had pictured throughout the years though. Nothing could have prepared him for what he was currently witnessing. 

Women bled the same as men did. He never felt overly-noble when it came to protecting them, no matter how weak or frail they looked. Feyd understood that it was survival of the fittest. People lost their lives every day in much crueler ways than suffocation. . . 

But the guard had his hands around your throat, and in that moment Feyd no longer saw the proud woman that had managed to nearly knock him off of his feet earlier. No, in that moment you looked just like that six year old little girl he had always cared for so dearly. You looked exactly how he had left you- scared, fragile and innocent. 

Feyd-Rautha wasn’t quite sure what love was, but he could imagine that it must be what he felt for you. Losing you was an impossibility, he’d never let it happen. He couldn’t. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

An eerie sort of calm befell the room, the only sounds being your shaky breaths as you tried to fill your aching lungs with air. The guard didn’t answer him, only stared with fearful eyes up at the Na-Baron. He was looking Death right in the face. 

“Was it your idea to attack her in the middle of the night like this?” Feyd took another step into the room, which had the guard scooting back awkwardly on his knees. “You were going to kill her in the dark like she was no better than an animal.” 

He hadn’t even been brave enough to face you with the lights on. 

Feyd, without turning around, used his foot to close the door behind him. Once again the room plummeted into pitch black darkness. There was a shuffling sound in front of him, the man trying to get to his feet as fast as he could to put some distance between the two of them, but it was too late. Feyd followed the source of the noise and reached out, grabbing the man around the stomach before sinking his blade deep into his neck. A sick wet gurgling noise caused you to let out a small cry. Still, the blue eyed man wouldn’t be offput by your disgust. 

He had to pay for what he did to you. 

And so he dislodged the knife easily, the sharp blade gliding through muscle and skin, and then stabbed again. And again. And again. The guard moaned in pain, trying his hardest to buck and fight Feyd off of him. Even when the man’s legs gave out from under him Feyd followed him, falling to his knees so that he could continue his ruthless assault. 

The Na-Baron grit his teeth, eyes wide as his knife continued to find purchase in the corpse beneath him. The bastard had caused you to suffer. He had hurt you. Feyd didn’t stop there either. He stood up and made his way out into the hallway. 

The rage had made a home somewhere deep in his chest. He didn’t know what to do with so much anger. He needed. . . he needed to make everyone atone for what they had done to you. Did they think that he would approve of their lame assassination attempt? 

“You heard everything and did nothing!” He screamed out at the other guards who stood in the hallway. 

His hands were coated in blood, his black shirt and night pants soaked through, clinging to his skin. All they could do was watch him, unable to say anything at all. Feyd knew that they could not deny his claims. They had all been in on this from the start. 

And so he raised his blade again and did not stop until every man in the hallway was long-dead. 

Not a word had been said since the incident. You didn’t even complain when Feyd had all but dragged you through the halls, rather you followed him as emotionless as a doll. The blood of the fallen marred your arms and crisp white nightdress. It was as if your body had gone into auto pilot. Your mind was lost to you, as you felt as though you were floating off somewhere far away. You no longer existed at all. 

You were just a hollow shell now, in a state of shock that had you shutting down completely. 

Where was he taking you? You didn’t know, nor did you particularly care anymore. 

The guard’s final breaths had sounded wet, probably due to the blood in his lungs. The blade hitting bone. His moans of pain. Those sounds still echoed in your ears, and you were positive that you’d never be able to get them out of your head. 

You’d never witnessed anything like that in all of your life. Someone had been killed mere feet away from you. And yet you weren’t sorry for him. You searched yourself for even an inkling of pity and came up short. The bastard got what he deserved. 

“Why did you have to do that in front of me?” You managed to mumble out. 

Tonight would soon become a memory that would never abandon you. Even in old age you were certain that you would be able to recall every gut wrenching detail of tonights events. When the door leading out to the doorway had opened and illuminated the room, Feyd’s sins had been revealed in full to you. 

The guard was unrecognizable. He no longer looked human to you, his insides turned out. Your betrothed had quite literally gutted your attacker in front of you. 

Your bare feet tracked blood on the floors, the long skirts of your nightgown soaked with another man’s blood. 

“I killed him for you. I wanted you to experience every moment of retribution.” He didn’t turn around to face you as he spoke. Instead he kept his eyes on the hallway, the pupils of his pale blue eyes blown out wide. 

You cast a look down at the hand that was holding your arm in a vice-like grip. He was shaking. It was almost as though he could feel your eyes on his hand. His trembling fingers dug into your soft skin. 

Feyd released you once the two of you were alone in a room together, closing the door behind him and locking it for good measure. You stood there, motionless as you followed the line of his jaw with your eyes. The muscle there ticked a few times as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. He was still agitated, you could tell. 

“You’re starting to bruise.” He motioned towards his own neck. 

Your hand flew up to your throat, poking at the tender skin. It felt hot under your touch- sore too. It would serve as a reminder of how close you had come to death. Tonight you felt nothing. . . but what about tomorrow? Would you ever be able to sleep again? 

“How did you know that I was being attacked?” Your suspicion was beginning to build back up again. There were just too many coincidences. 

“You think I had something to do with this?” He sounded agitated. There was no hint of his usual sarcastic lilt in his tone. 

You’d never seen Feyd like this before. He actually seemed. . . offended but your gentle accusation. 

“You can’t answer my question with yet another question. How did you know I was being attacked?” You might have been in a state of immense shock but you still had some wits about you. 

You were locked in a room with a murderer, and the possibility that he had a hand in your assassination attempt was high. Once again you found yourself utterly defenseless. If he tried to attack you now there was no way that you’d be able to defend yourself. Not only that but your throat was wrecked. You could barely talk at the current moment, meaning you couldn’t even depend on the Voice if you needed to. You were as helpless as a child in the wake of Feyd’s power. 

“I see you in my dreams sometimes.” 

Anyone else would have called him insane, but you were used to Paul’s dreams. They’d been getting even more vivid as he aged. So Feyd had a dream that you were in danger? You found it difficult to believe that he would go out of his way to come to your rescue. Still, here he was. 

“Is that why you warned me today at breakfast?” The pieces were finally beginning to fall into place. He’d known something was going to happen since last night. 

“Yes,” He tilted his head, seemingly deep in thought. “Something told me to go and see you.” 

You didn’t have it in yourself to question him further. You’d have to be satisfied with his answers. What you really wanted was a bath and a fresh change of clothes. One last look at your soiled clothes had your nose wrinkling in disgust. The smell of blood was thick in your nose- so strong that the iron scent almost smelled sweet. You gagged outwardly, putting your hands on your knees as you suddenly dry heaved. 

“You realize that he couldn’t be left alive after what he had done, don’t you?” 

Of course you did. That didn’t make it any better though. Your fingers stuck together, caked in blood, as you balled them into fists at your sides. 

“Bath.” Was all you said, already looking around the room that you assumed was his living quarters for any sign of a tub. 

He didn’t make any complaints as you closed the bathroom door behind yourself. Feyd gave you the time to process everything, didn’t knock on the door even once as the minutes ticked by. You stayed in the water until your fingers pruned and rubbed your skin until it was raw. Blood was everywhere. Under your nails, between your toes- it had even soaked through your dress and now caked your lower legs and thighs. 

You threw on a thin cotton robe you found neatly folded on a small towel rack, tying it tightly around your waist before you built up the courage to face your fiance again. 

“Take me back to my room.” You were eager to fall asleep. 

You’d been through too much. The thought of having to be conscious was tiring in itself. If you could close your eyes and sleep for the next ten years then you would. 

You missed your home. You missed your parents and Paul. You missed stability and security. Your life felt lost to you now. 

“This is your room now.” He was laying on the bed, already in a change of clothes. He seemingly took a bath himself while you had locked yourself away. There was no trace of gore left on him now. 

Your mouth went dry, palms pooling with sweat. Surely you were understanding him incorrectly. 

“You can’t expect me to sleep in the same room with you. We aren’t married.” There was absolutely no way your parents would approve of something like this. 

“I don’t trust anyone besides myself with your safety.” 

You didn’t trust anyone. Especially not Feyd. 

“Why should I be expected to sleep with you? I don’t feel comfortable-” 

“I will kill anyone that lays a finger on you again. Let that pile of bodies act as a warning to anyone else that tries. That’s why you should be expected to stay here with me. Get in the bed.” He seemed tired. Aggitated. 

“No.” You held strong. Never in your life had you slept in the same room as a man, let alone someone like Feyd-Rautha. He’d sooner kill you in your sleep then anyone else would. 

“Come here.” His tone caused you to jump. 

You had to bite your tongue as you approached him, sitting down awkwardly on the bed before you finally succumbed to his wishes. The bed was softer than your own, which you immediately envied. The soft mattress enveloped you, and all at once the tiredness you hadn’t felt until then finally sank in. 

You didn’t put up much more of a fight. Your eyes were beginning to close on their own accord. Feyd was watching you, turned on his side so that he could get a better look at you. It was then, for the first time ever, that you fully noted how beautiful he was. Up close like this he was even more striking. Blue eyes, full lips and pale, flawless skin. 

One thing that went unnoticed by you was the fact that Feyd didn’t turn the lights off. 

Without having to ask. . . he didn’t turn the lights off. 

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[enhaheeseung]

Innocence - L. Heeseung

Pairing: heeseung x fem reader!

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, plus size reader, alcohol consumption, cursing, dirty truth or dare, unprotected sex, oral female receiving, flirting.

Note: hello, this work was requested by @idollemon @fumasthicc sorry for the long wait I hope you enjoy it! 💋

WC: 6,360k sorry for it being so long but I had to build up to it yk😅

Masterlist

It was 9:23, and you were putting on the finishing touches to your makeup. You had decided to go with a casual look, considering you were just going to hang out with a mutual friend to have drinks and watch movies at his house.

Your best friend had been invited to a house party by her friend named heeseung, and she asked if you wanted to tag along, so you agreed you didn’t have shit else to do anyways.

You knew she was only going cause Jake was going to be there, but you figured a night out wouldn’t be so bad, so you decided to accompany her, even though she’d most likely ditch you for him.

But, it was a good excuse for you to see her very hot best friend, heeseung. You hadn’t seen him around much cause you weren’t friends with him. You only knew him cause of your best friend, but those few encounters were enough for you to catch some type of feelings.

You’d never say it out loud or let anyone know, but you had a tiny little crush on him. He was tall and cute with a charming smile.

And not to mention, every time you saw him, he looked absolutely fuckable.

That’s another thing you’d never say out loud.

If your friend ever knew you thought about him like that, she’d be absolutely stunned because….

You were innocent.

At least to her and your friends, you were.

You were what most people would call the innocent type. You didn’t attend many parties. You always dressed modestly, and any time a dirty joke would get made, you’d just blush and stay quiet, not entertaining those types of things.

So if she or any of your friends knew that you wanted to fuck their best friend, it’d come as a complete shock.

You took one last look in the mirror until you were satisfied. You got a text from your friend that was notifying you that, apparently, it was going to be a sleepover since everyone would be drinking.

You responded with a thumbs-up and packed an overnight bag for the now sleepover.

Good thing heeseung lived in a mansion cause you could get your own room and not have to sleep on the couch or in the living room sprawled out all over your drunk friends.

Oh, the memories.

You arrived at his place a few minutes later than you had planned. Everybody had already settled in, and they were drinking from red plastic cups.

“There she is!” Your friend ran over to you and gave you a side hug.

“Here I am!” You smiled and hugged her back.

Jake, Jay, and yeonjun greeted you with smiles. You were close to them, so you didn’t need any introduction.

“Hey,” you greeted them back while someone watched you from across the island on the opposite side of the kitchen.

Said person took a few more steps until he was face to face with you and your best friend with his hand in his pocket and a drink in the other. “So tell me, who's your friend?” You looked over when you heard the voice and met eyes with heeseung briefly.

“Oh my gosh! You’re totally right. You two have never even met before,” your friend gasps at the realization, “Okay, heeseung, This is y/n, and y/n, this is heeseung,” she pointed back and forth between the both of you.

“Nice to finally meet you, y/n.” He reached his hand out from his pocket, and you shook it gently.

“You too,” you managed to say without stuttering at the pretty smile he gave you.

He brought your hand closer to his face and pressed a soft kiss there, gazing up at you while he did so.

You did your best not to get flustered, and thankfully, Jake saved you from the awkward moment that would have come.

“You didn’t kiss my hand when we first met,” Jake pouted playfully. You could tell he already had one too many drinks.

“Me neither,” Jay sassily stuck his hand out to Heeseung, waiting for a kiss.

Heeseung let go of your hand and rolled his eyes at the two, slapping both of their hands away from him.

You giggled slightly at the interaction. While you were getting to know heeseung, your friend had already left you to get herself another drink.

“Ignore those two,” heeseung spoke up to you again. “You want a drink?” He offers.

“No thanks, I’m good.” You politely declined.

“Oh, come on,” The offer did sound kinda good, but you shook your head softly. “Pleaseeeee, I make the best drinks ever” he whined cutely and when he said it like that, how could you say no?

“Okay, but just one,” you agreed, and he led you to his personal drink station on the kitchen counter.

“You won’t be saying that after I’m done with you,” he winked playfully, and you’re not sure if that comment was referring to the drinks or something sexual, but you just went along with it.

“We’ll see,” you smiled.

He was right cause just fifteen minutes later. He had already made you three more. “See, I told you,” heeseung said while smiling at you.

“I can’t lie. This is actually the best drink I’ve had in a while” He smiles at that and takes a seat next to you.

“How come we’re only just now meeting?” He says, resting his elbows on the counter and looking at his other friends drinking and talking.

“That’s a good question. I really don’t know either.”

“I think I know,” he chuckled, and you looked at him quizzically. “You’re always so shy and quiet.”

He was kinda right. Usually, when you’d hang out, you were always the quiet one in your friend group. In your defense, they were just a bit more on the wild side. “Am I?”

“Yeah, I wanted to say hi to you a few times a while back but decided against it cause I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything like that,” he explained, taking a small sip from his own cup.

“Really? I wouldn’t have minded talking to you though” You’re blaming the alcohol for that statement, damn you, heeseung, and your ability to make the best aqua velva on earth.

“Yeah?” He smirked and turned to look at your flushed face. And you liked to say it was the alcoholic beverage in your system making you heat up, but it wasn’t

Before anything could escalate any further, Jake was practically screaming in both of your guy's ears.

“Who’s ready to spin the bottle?” He shook yours and Heeseung’s shoulders a little too hard.

You looked over, and you could see heeseung rolling his eyes and sighing. “We’re not teenagers anymore.” He pushed Jake's hand off his shoulder and did the same for you.

“Come on, hee d-don’t be a party pooper at your own party,” Jake slurred his words.

Out of all times, Jake could talk to him. He picked the absolute worst he was just starting to make some type of progress with you, and this drunk idiot had to go and fuck it all up. “Fine, but stop screaming in my fucking ear, will you?”

“To the living room!” Jake shouted, and everyone else cheered and clambered to the living room to play spin the bottle with an empty Hennessy bottle.

Once you all gathered in a circle, Jake, of course, was the first one to spin the bottle. You were kinda nervous about playing, not knowing exactly what questions or dares would be asked, but it seemed fun, so you relaxed a little and watched as the first spin landed on Jay. Jake smiled wickedly at Jay, and you could tell what direction this game was headed in right away.

“Why me?” Jay whined.

“Truth or dare?” Jay answers with truth, too dizzy to get up and do a dare.

“If you could have sex with any of us, who would it be?” Jake says.

Jay groaned but answered nevertheless. “Myself,” he buried his face in his hands, attempting to wipe off the drunkness.

“Lame,” Jake mumbled.

“How? Do you not see all of this?” Jay pointed to himself, and Jake fake gagged, or maybe it was real, given the drinks he had.

It was now Jay's turn to spin the bottle, and it landed on heeseung, making you breathe a sigh of relief. “Okay, I got a good one,” Jay says and makes a silly face. “Truth or dare.”

“Dare,” heeseung muttered, obviously unamused by the game, and the last thing he was going do was say truth.

“I was hoping you’d say that” Jay looked at you whilst smiling evilly, and you panicked. Why the hell was he looking at you, and it wasn’t even your turn yet? “Heeseung, I dare you to moan in y/n’s ear for ten seconds.”

Heeseung’s eyes went wide as saucers as they met yours. That were just as wide. No wonder Jay was looking at you like that. What a little shit you thought. “What kind of dare is that?” Heeseung asks what the hell did Jay gain from embarrassing him in front of you.

“It’s one you’re about to do now, chop chop,” Jay clapped his hands.

You blushed at just the thought, and you felt tingles in the pit of your stomach. You hated to think like this, but you actually weren’t opposed to the idea. You didn’t want to make Heeseung uncomfortable, so you interjected.

“Well, we just met, so I thi-” Jake immediately interrupted.

“Y/n shut up, heeseung moan,” Jake cut you off while you and heeseung both glared at him.

Heeseung looked at you for approval, and you nodded softly as he scooted closer to you. You could feel his breath fanning across your ear, and you got goosebumps all over your body.

The whole group cringed but laughed at the same time as they watched you becoming more and more flustered by the second.

Heeseung was nervous, to say the least. What if you thought he sounded disgusting? What if you were grossed out? What if you thought he was mimicking a dying whale, and you wouldn’t want to talk to him after tonight?

Ultimately he said fuck it, it was a dare, not the end of the world, even if it felt like it.

The first moan was more like a shaky breath followed by a tiny whimper, and your head was already spinning just imagining how much hotter he’d sound behind closed doors.

You couldn’t help but bite your lip cause if you didn’t, you would have moaned yourself. You looked around and saw the whole friend group laughing at the scene, but you didn’t care. You were too focused on the way he sounded as he was now full-on moaning and almost grunting in your ear.

You discreetly rubbed your legs together as he finally pulled away from you after what was probably a little longer than ten seconds.

He leaned back and saw your flustered face, and that let him know that you, in fact, did not think he sounded like a dying whale, and he was thanking the stars.

Heeseung cleared his throat, quickly moving on with the game and spinning the bottle. He smiled at Jay just as evilly. Now, it was time for his revenge. “Truth or dare?”

Jay gulped, knowing he was fucked either way. “Truth and dare,” he said, making you giggle as he downed the rest of his shot.

Heeseung just shook his head at his very stupid friend. “Look at yeonjun and make your orgasm face.”

You turned to heeseung for the first time since he completed his dare. “That’s evil,” you giggled.

“Not evil, just payback.” He smiled and winked at you.

You would have lived happily ever after if it wasn’t for the sight in front of you. Jay had his mouth parted, and his eyebrows creased together while looking at yeonjun, who looked at him horrified like the rest of you.

Luckily, it only lasted a few seconds cause if it had gone on any longer, you would have all been blind.

It was yeonjuns turn to spin the bottle, and it finally happened it landed on you. “Truth or dare, my precious little y/n?” He said sweetly, but you knew his intentions were not as sweet.

Heeseung discreetly rolled his eyes after hearing the nickname yeonjun gave you.

“Dare?” You said more of a question as you squinted your eye.

“Perfect, I dare you to look at the person to your left” fuck, heeseung was to your left. “And eat a banana as sexily as possible.” He clapped his hands. He noticed heeseung had been shamelessly checking you out all night, so he decided he’d do him a little favor cause he wasn’t an asshole like Jay.

Your jaw dropped to the floor. How the hell were you gonna do that?

Jake did the honors and came running back to the living room with a banana. “Y/n, you don’t have to-, “Heeseung tried to speak.

“Heeseung, you’re not her dad. She can speak for herself,” Jay butted in.

“It’s fine. It's just a dare, right?” You said to heeseung as you peeled the banana.

“Right,” he breathed out. He couldn’t lie. He was probably more excited about this than Jake was about playing Spin the Bottle.

You turned your body to face him fully. You swirled your tongue around the tip teasingly, and you saw heeseung visibly gulp. You laughed shyly and began licking the banana, pretending it was his shaft instead. Once you defiled the poor banana, you took half of it in your mouth with your lips wrapped tightly around it. You blinked your eyelashes while doing so, loving the expression on heeseung’s face as he watched you.

“Fuck” he cursed under his breath. His eyes had already darkened, and he had his lip caught between his teeth.

Finally, you ended your little show as you pulled off the banana with a quiet pop sound.

The room had gone completely silent, and you looked around to see all the boys gawking at you with their mouths hanging open. “Hope you enjoyed the show” You winked at Yeonjun.

Heeseung couldn’t help but to think maybe you weren’t as innocent as you were letting on, and boy, would he do anything to find that out after seeing you suck on that banana.

“Okay, now I’m hard,” Jay jokingly said, and heeseung glared at him while Jay lifted his hands up in defense.

You spun the bottle next, and it landed on your best friend. “Truth or dare?” You already knew what you had planned for her if it was dare.

“Dare,” she chimed.

Perfect. You thought.

“I dare you and Jake to play seven minutes in heaven.” She blushed instantly and looked at Jake, who was already blushing and smiling.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Jake stumbled as he sat up and dragged her to the nearest closet.

“Why couldn’t I get that dare?” Jay groaned.

“Cause you don’t deserve it.” You stuck your tongue out at him.

“You better hope this bottle does not land on you,” Jay murmured as it was his turn to spin the bottle once again.

Unfortunately, it did, and you sighed, picking truth this time. “So, y/n, when’s the last time you’ve touched yourself.” He smirked.

Why was he doing this to you?

You grew flustered. Did you really have to answer truthfully? There’s no way he’d know the real truth. “A month, maybe longer,” you lied.

“Aww, I should have known our little angel is too innocent for that,” you giggled nervously, thankful that none of them seemed to have detected your lie.

Heeseung again rolled his eyes. Why was everyone all over you tonight?

Your friend and Jake had just come back from the closest, and they couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other ever since the dare you gave them.

After a few more spins and unmentionable dares, you all decided to call it quits for the night and watch a movie instead, seeing how everyone but you and heeseung were drunk out of their minds. You were both still a little tipsy, though.

You all decided to change into comfortable clothes before starting the movie.

Jake was sitting with your friend, Jay was on the rocking chair while you and heeseung sat at the back on the couch, and Yeonjun decided to lie on the floor for some odd reason.

About an hour into the movie, you had covered yourself with a sheet that heeseung had lying around. You felt something land on your thighs, and you looked down to see that heeseung had rested his head on your lap.

Within an hour of the movie, heeseung started to get a bit sleepy and rested his head on what he thought was the couch until he felt your thick thighs tensing under his head slightly at the contact.

All the lights had been turned off. Therefore, he couldn’t see where he was laying his head.

He was just about to move, but he stayed there for a few seconds longer to see what your next move would be when he felt your body relax under his head. He took that as a sign that you didn’t mind him being there.

About five minutes later, you felt his head shifting a little as he peeled the sheet down, and you could feel his teeth grazing against your thigh before he nibbled on the plump flesh gently.

Your body twitched a little, and you nearly moaned at the slightest contact.

Again, he took this as a sign and continued to sink his teeth into the soft flesh, and this time, you did accidentally moan out loud.

You quickly covered your mouth and panicked as you looked around, praying that no one heard you, and once you saw all of them focused on the movie, you breathed a sigh of relief.

Heeseung’s ears perked up at the sound of your sweet little moan.

As you instinctively ran a hand through his hair he turned around in your lap so he could face you, looking up at you and completely forgetting about the movie that was playing.

He lifted up the thin sheet and put it over his head, burying his face in your clothed cunt, inhaling the scent of your sweet arousal.

You bit your lip to conceal every noise that threatened to come out. You could feel him nosing at your clit, stimulating you through the fabric of your silk sleep shorts. You patted yourself on the back for deciding not to wear any underwear tonight.

He gripped your hip, squeezing it softly as he hummed lowly from your scent, invading his senses and the feeling of your plump waistline in his palm.

You pushed the back of his head closer to your core and spread your legs open wider, giving him a silent hint. He immediately flattened his tongue and licked over your silk shorts, and he could already feel your legs trembling beside his head.

He continued licking and sucking through the fabric, teasing your clit until the front of your shorts were damp with his saliva.

You quickly grew needy from that alone, and you needed to feel more of him. He seemed to read your mind as he slipped your shorts to the side and resumed his activities, swirling his tongue over your nub.

He wanted to tell you how good you tasted and how sweet your juices were on his tongue, but he couldn’t pull away for even a second.

You could feel his warm breath blowing against your bare pussy, sending shockwaves throughout your core as he sucked on your clit, pulling the sensitive flesh between his soft pink lips.

You spread your legs open instinctively, giving him more room to work with.

He moves his head closer to your body to get a better angle so he can use his fingers and his mouth to please you.

You had to cup your mouth when he stuck one of his thick fingers in your tight, wet hole. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head from the feeling of his digit pumping in you slowly.

He placed gentle kisses on your pubic bone, occasionally flicking his tongue over your clit as he added a second finger.

He curled his fingers upwards, brushing against the spot that made your stomach tense with pleasure as your toes started to curl. He focused on your clit, giving it a few teasing licks before latching his mouth on the bud and sucking on it, then swirling his tongue. He transitioned between each movement while digging his fingers deeper and deeper inside you.

It had been possibly five minutes before you could feel yourself getting close. Your legs were shaking, and he could feel your walls squeezing around his fingers.

He dug his nails into your side and sped up the pace of his digits. Seconds later, your hole was clenching tightly around his fingers as you came without any warning.

You ran your fingers through his hair as he slowed down and caressed your walls gently until you finished.

He applied a few more gentle kisses, and even though you had just came, you still wanted more as you bucked your hips into his face.

He smirked to himself.

So much for you being innocent, he thought.

With the unbearable throbbing between his legs, the only thing he had on his mind was fucking you into oblivion all night. He’s just been waiting for an opportunity to get you alone so he could feel your pussy. He just knew you’d feel so good, so creamy and wet, and that thought just made him even harder.

He pushed you back lightly by your hip and sat up. You were already about to protest, but he put a finger on your lips, shushing you.

He made an excuse to get you both alone, rushing out the fact that you were tired and he was going to show you your room. Everyone just murmured back in response. Apparently, they were still drunk.

Heeseung practically dragged you upstairs by your wrist and led you to one of his guest rooms on the far end of the hall, furthest away from the living room.

Without saying anything, he locks the door behind him and turns back to you, gripping your waist tightly while he moves in for a kiss somewhat between rough and gentle.

He groans against your mouth and presses your body as close to his as possible, moaning quietly when his cock brushes against you.

You wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him in close. The action makes him stumble slightly from the force, and with that, he breaks the kiss and pushes you back on the bed gently, taking in your disheveled state, your hair now messy and your shorts riding up your thick thighs, leaving little to his imagination of what you looked like under them.

You whimpered from the way he looked while standing above you. You began feeling impatient with him not doing anything, resulting in you seeking any type of friction as you rubbed your thighs together.

He could only smirk at how needy and desperate you were, and he couldn’t help but wonder how all your friends thought you were so innocent, yet here you were, spreading your legs for him and silently asking for him to fuck you.

“You look so good like this.” He leaned down on the bed and trailed his fingertips along your legs softly. “All needy for me.” His fingers inched dangerously high as he kneaded the flesh of your thighs.

“Please,” you whimper, and you almost feel embarrassed by how easily you begged for him on just the first night of officially meeting him.

He didn’t respond, only cupping his hand over your mound, lightly stroking your throbbing cunt through your shorts.

You gripped his wrist and immediately guided his hand back and forth on your clit.

He chuckled softly, watching your face twist in pleasure. “So naughty,” he cooed while maintaining eye contact with you.

His words were drowned out by the pleasure just his hand was bringing to you, and you lifted your hips off the bed, practically fucking yourself against his palm.

It wasn’t long before he felt himself caving in at just the sight of you. His pants felt extremely tight after seeing you use his hand to get yourself off. “Fuck” he muttered to himself, adding more pressure to press against your clit rougher.

“Fuck heeseung,” you moaned loudly as his palm ran along your clit just right, and the way you moaned his name was nothing but pure music to his ears.

“That feels good, yeah, baby?” You bit your lip as your eyes rolled back into your head at his slightly teasing tone. “Gonna fuck my hand until you cum?” You were too close to respond. Instead, you did exactly that and rutted yourself on his palm as you came and cried his name out hoarsely. “You know, y/n, you’re really not as innocent as I thought,” he spoke while he kept his hand in place so you could ride out your high.

You whined in embarrassment, but you still didn’t stop rolling your hips on his palm.

“Here I am thinking you’re the sweetest little thing on earth, just so shy and quiet, but here you are getting off just from my hand like a needy little slut” He finally pulled his hand away, and you squeezed your legs together only for him to forcefully spread them back open. “Don’t bother. You’ll be spreading them again anyways.” He quickly stripped himself of his shirt and pants.

You watched him through your spread legs, clenching down around nothing as you saw his tent beneath his grey boxers. Your brows furrowed at the sight, and you blushed when you saw him smirking at you teasingly.

He slowly lifted his hand to the front of his underwear, ghosting his hand over the crotch part. His expression mirrored yours, and he bit his lip at the feeling.

Your hands gripped at the bedsheets, toes curling as he continued to touch himself before your eyes. You couldn’t take it anymore. You needed him so badly.

He slowly pulled the waistband down, eyes never leaving yours as he gave you the tiniest peak of the base of his dick.

Your mouth was watering by now, and his teasing was driving you insane. He smiled at your expression, letting the fabric of his waistband snap against his hips as he let out a low whine from the slight sting.

“Please,” you let out with a shaky breath, not sure what you were even begging for. All you knew was you needed him to touch you.

“On one condition,” he says in a low voice as he hovers over you on the bed while you nod frantically. “Beg,” he whispered, and you clenched around, nothing again, feeling a trail of arousal dripping from your hole.

“Please, heeseung,” you said, too turned on to even care how desperate you sounded.

“More.” He bit his lip and spanked your inner thigh, causing you to let out a whine.

“Fuck me. Please need to feel your cock inside me so bad” You were squirming on the bed as you grew more desperate with every second that went by.

“More.” He spanked your thigh again, watching the flesh jiggle with each slap.

You were so close to tears, but you managed to do your best to get him to fuck you. “I need you so bad,” you breathed shakily. “Need you to fill my pussy up with your huge cock, and cum deep inside me, please, please, please.”

He groaned at the sound of your desperate, pleading voice. You were the furthest thing from innocent, and he was going to make you say it out loud. “Clothes off,” he said impatiently, finally pulling down his underwear.

You scrambled to take off your clothes, leaving yourself completely naked in front of him on the bed.

“So pretty,” he said as he positioned himself between your legs, finally letting you get a feel his hard throbbing cock rubbing against your wet core, causing you to moan loudly. “If I had known you were this much of a slut, I would have fucked you so much sooner” You spread your legs open further as he rolled his hips into you collecting your juices with his cock.

Your head already felt dizzy, and just the slow drag of his dick on your pussy was about to make you cum for the third time tonight.

He laid on top of you before grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his waist securely. “I know you would have let me too,” he teased you as he pushed his tip at your entrance but never fully inserted himself.

“You have no shame, you know?” He whispered in your ear. “Letting me fuck you, and we only just met hours ago” He moved his hand from your leg and stroked your cheek. “How do you think your friends would feel if they knew their precious y/n was begging to get fucked?”

You shied away from his touch, feeling slightly embarrassed by his words yet turned on at the same time.

“Hmm, baby? How would they feel knowing you’re so desperate for my cock that you couldn’t even finish the movie first” His voice was far sweeter than the words he spoke into your ear.

“Heeseung,” you choked out, eyes rolling in your head from all his teasing, and you couldn’t take anymore.

“What was it Jay called you?” He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear you say it.

“A-angel,” you muttered while trying to move your hips with his.

“Ah, that’s right,” he chuckles, almost like he’s mocking you. “Well, baby, if you’re an angel, what does that make me?” He didn’t give you time to answer before sinking his cock into you slowly.

You gripped his biceps tighter, feeling his muscles flexing as he held onto your thigh tightly. “Oh, heeseung,” you cried out, digging your nails into his flesh while he nestled his cock head inside you.

Your mouth was parting slightly while you panted heavily, trying to adjust to him stretching you out so far. “Goddamn baby, you’re so tight,” he grunts loudly as he feels your walls already throbbing around his length, making it nearly impossible for him to think straight.

“You’re so fucking big,” you slurred your words, already feeling dumb with the way his dick was sliding in and out of you so deliciously.

He smirked at your compliment and buried himself to the absolute hilt. “Such a dirty little mouth” He sat up on his knees and gripped your thighs so he could dig his cock deeper inside you.

You clawed at his chest. He was so deep that you could barely take it as your walls clamped down around him. “So damn tight, baby” He held back a moan and picked up the pace, thighs slapping against yours with every strong, perfectly angled thrust.

You held his waist as he plowed into you, and you couldn’t help but scream out his name. “Shh baby, unless you want them to know just how much of a whore you are for me,” he grunted out, never letting up on his frantic pace.

You didn’t even bother to hold in any moans. It was impossible with the way his thick cock felt, massaging your walls.

He moved his hands from your legs to cup your breasts, kneading them softly. “God, you take it so well,” he mutters, watching how your wet cunt swallows his big cock with ease. “You’re soaking, baby. Am I making you this wet?” He had that same teasing smirk on his face.

“Yes, all for you,” you cried out.

“So much for being innocent,” he chuckled, now hitting your spot with his thick, leaky tip.

You moaned, your body shaking with nothing but pleasure as he rubbed your nipples in small circles, overstimulating you. “I am,” you stutter out, even though you felt nothing of the sort.

“Oh baby, the look on your face and the way your slutty pussy is clenching on me tells me otherwise” He brought his hand to your mouth and rested his thumb on your bottom lip. “Open.” You pleased him greatly when you opened up immediately after and allowed two of his fingers to rest on the back of your tongue. “Suck on them,” he instructed, and you began to swirl your tongue obediently. You sucked on his fingers just like you did with the banana earlier. “Such a good little whore listening to whatever I say” He watched your drool leaking down your face as you nearly choked when he pressed down on the back of your tongue. “Letting me do what I want with you.

He busied his other hand on your clit while you sucked on his fingers with your eyes locked on his.

You moaned around his digits when he pressed down on your sensitive clit with his fingers and rubbed your nub in tight, fast circles. “Keep sucking” You continued to moan around his fingers as you squeezed his dick harshly with your aching cunt. “Gonna cum?” You nod your head as best as you can while your orgasm hits you out of nowhere. “That’s it, pretty, cream, my cock” His eyes flicked down at your pulsating pussy, and he lost it as he saw your creamy essence coating his dick. “Fuck, I’m close,” he moaned, and just the image in front of him drove him insane, your mouth stuffed with his fingers and your pretty pussy filled with his cock. “I’m so close.” his voice sounded just the same as earlier when he moaned into your ear, but in this setting, it was even hotter somehow.

The feeling of your warm mouth around his fingers and the repeated clenching of your tight cunt was the last straw. He finally let go releasing his cum into you with loud moans of your name. “Shit, this feels so good,” he whimpers as his hips start to lose rhythm, and he stills inside you, filling you to the brim until your little used cunt is dripping all his seed.

He removed his fingers from your mouth and lowered his weight on top of you, messily kissing you while his heavy breath mixed with yours into the sloppy kiss.

You wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling his face closer to you. He raised his eyebrows at your sudden boldness and chuckled against your lips as you nibbled on his bottom lip. He parted for a breath of air and quickly glued his lips back onto yours.

When he finally pulled away from you, he was panting as he pecked your forehead and pulled out of you carefully.

He rolled over on his back and sighed as the cold sheets met his hot skin.

After a few moments of silence, he got up from the bed and went to the bathroom, grabbing a warm towel to clean you off with. “Was I okay? I didn’t go too rough, did I?” He asks with concern hoping it was enjoyable for you too.

You only smiled, wondering how his mood could change within the blink of an eye. “No, it was perfect.” You watched a look of relief overtake his features.

“I’m glad,” he muttered, and he somehow looked shy as he gently cleaned between your legs. He kissed your thigh gently once he was finished and then pecked your lips one last time. You smiled to yourself as he returned back to the bathroom.

He came back out a few seconds later and started getting dressed; once he was done, he sat back down next to you on the bed. “I should go before they notice that I’ve been gone,” he whispers to you while stroking your cheek with his thumb as you settle into bed.

“Okay,” you say a bit reluctantly. You really wished you could cuddle him all night, but he was right. Your friends would become suspicious, and the last thing you needed was to explain to them what happened, especially since you and heeseung had just met.

“I’ll come back later when everybody has gone to sleep.” You couldn’t believe your ears. You thought it was just a simple exchange and nothing more, but he actually wanted to come back? While you were caught up in your thoughts, he took your silence as you not wanting him to come back. “O-or not, I just thought maybe after you know, you might want me to sta- I don’t know,” he breathed out as he picked at his nails, refusing to make eye contact with you.

You softly gripped his chin, tilting his head and making him look up at you. “I’d love it if you came back later.” You smiled and closed your eyes slowly to kiss him one last time.

“Really?” He asked once he leaned back from the kiss and fluttered his gleeful eyes open.

You nodded softly, and he smiled. “Okay,” he hopped out of bed and grabbed a shirt from his drawer, and handed it to you. “I’ll sneak you some water in a few” He tucked the covers up over you as you yawned, feeling sleep settling its way into your system.

He slowly backed away from the bed and blew you one last kiss before shutting the door and muttering a small goodnight to you.

“Goodnight, heeseung.” You laid your head flat on the bed, a small smile etched on your features.

Tomorrow could only tell what’s in store for you and heeseung, but right now, you were just happy your friend invited you to a hang out with her hot best friend.

Thanks for reading likes comments and reblogs are always appreciated sorry for any typos or errors I hope you all have a good day/night♥️

[b-00-biez]

Would you be able to write if {Michael, Brahms, and Thomas} found out their s/o had a breeding kink.

Breeding kink

With Michael, Brahms, Thomas

Michael

He honestly doesn't know what to do with this information but he will save it for later.

One night you were particularly stubborn and the easiest way for Michael to coax you into doing what he wants is to abuse your poor little entrance. You know he hasn't touched you for weeks and him just teasing you with just his tip probing at the entrance that awaits his full length, fluttering and welcoming him with open arms but he doesn't give in.

"M-michael please.. " you tried to beg for him to just fuck you, insert his full length into you despite him not wearing a condom right now. "Please Michael I'll do whatever the fuck you ask me just fuck me outta my misery.. " you said frustrated already, you know despite his mask, he's smirking underneath. Without a warning, he shoved his whole cock inside making you yelp and ease up around his length. He hooked your legs onto his shoulders and started fucking. His balls slapping your ass and you can hear it making lewd noises. On how rough he was being you can't help but feel your orgasm coming. You grasp whatever words you have left in your cock drunk brain and said "cum in me! Get me fucking pregnant!! " you screamed. Now, he's curious. You want his seed? You want your tummy full of his babies, your breasts swollen with milk? He's not too sure about this but hell you were such a good girl for him right now looking all needy and disheveled, maybe just this once he will fuck you full of his seed.

Brahms

The fact that he was spying on you watching porn and your fingers melting into your very Nectar. He has to know what you were watching so he can replace those damn fingers with his cock. So while you were asleep he swiped your phone and in the safety of his walls he played the video he saw.

He couldn't take off his eyes on that pussy being abused and edged by this guy's long shaft. The video was about to end until the guy pulled out a mix of their cum oozing out of her cunt onto the bed as she shivered from all the orgasm she had. You were watching this while your fingers were desperately trying to make you cum like the needy slut that you are? He didn't want you to suffer when all you needed was his cock and his buckets of cum in you.

After he persuaded you to do it with him he's already in you with no foreplay whatsoever rubbing your clit so roughly while snapping his hips with yours. "Ugh.. All mine Mine!! " he said going faster just burying you on the bed, ass up. He slapped your ass until it was red making you yelp while you felt his cock ramming itself in and out. You had no energy to tell him to slow down but gosh it felt so good when he's this rough! "Get pregnant Get pregnant Get pregnant!! " he chanted while rearranging your insides. Gosh how many orgasms have you had and how many loads does he need to fill you with until he's satisfied?

Thomas

He couldn't help but imagine how your legs wraps around his waist pulling him closer to you while he ruts your very hole. He couldn't help but notice how unresponsive you were after 2-3 rounds and he just couldn't get his mind off on how his meaty cock was a bit visible on your cute tummy while he fucked you up.

He didn't understand what a breeding kink was until you blurted out that he should cum inside you that day.

In the morning while you and his family were having breakfast, Luda Mae asked if you two were gonna have children soon since you couldn't even be separated from Thomas. You choked on your water then looked at Thomas who was already blushing but nodded that he indeed plans to have children with you sooner or later but until you get married to him.

One particular night after that you couldn't take it anymore. He kept cumming outside and on you! He was so careful not to get you pregnant until marriage. "T-thomas please.. Just cum in me! Please I can't wait till marriage I'm already yours!! " you blurted out. He stopped for a moment but then picked up the pace as he rutted into you fucking your g-spot over and over again as he groans in agreement. Mixing your juices and his pre-cum so deliciously and night after night he kept fucking you full of his loads and every time after that you felt satisfied even after you conclude that you were indeed pregnant now.

[kooyabooya]

FREUDIAN

m reader x rosé // 24k words

They always say: never make a deal with the devil. Even when all fronts of temptation have you where you’re most vulnerable - you can’t afford to give in, especially if it’s the howling calls of the past whispering out. 

So you take a bite of the forbidden fallen apple anyway. Give into the fabled rumor of Judas’s betrayal. Because that’s all you’ve ever known yourself to be: gullible, foolish, naive. 

None of that has changed. Even as you’re staring at her, taking the fall. 

A look over her shoulder, furry scarf encapsulating her neck. The flash with her eyes sends you reeling, pulling your heartstring to the thinnest strand, nearly tearing it. She’s playing her role so innocently: the heartbreaker, your antagonist, a divine sin. It’s a losing game; one where you know very well, the kind of game where it was deemed unwinnable from the start. 

But when you’re holding her close, feel her face buried into the space of your neck, all of the memories come flashing back - each one feeling more right than wrong. 

“Maybe in another life,” Rosé tells you, and you’re shushing her, because the break in her voice is already destroying you on the inside, whatever she says next doesn’t even register in your ears; since she’s said the same tale before, and you’re agreeing with her regardless. 

To you, Rosé is a lot of things. A scrapbook filled with endless memories. The person to sit at your doorstep late into the night just to have a meaningful conversation. A half that’s been ripped apart. You can go down the mental checklist time and time again, and end up in the same spot as before. 

In another life, or some universe for that matter: you and her get that fairytale ending together. 

–

The incident, quite literally, comes fast in the dead of the night. 

It doesn’t hit you on the nose all at once. What does hit you is your tossed phone right onto your face, squinting at nothing when you sit up before looking down to the bright flash of your phone screen along with the number resting at the top. 

“I thought I told you to put your phone on vibrate, you idiot,” your girlfriend huffs sleepily, clearly annoyed at the random call during these late hours when slumber is the only option. Your vision is still coming about, looking over to the window where it’s still dark outside, then over to the alarm clock on your nightstand, struggling to even get a glimpse of the time - no point in looking at your phone too since you would be seeing white well into the morning. 

Like anyone else in this particular situation (not really), you pick up: “It’s three in the morning, why would-” 

“Did you plan an anniversary trip for us?” The girl’s tone on the other end is a bit on edge, looking for answers. “When the fuck were you going to tell me and why the hell did it have to be now?” 

You’re still half asleep, half awake; but the timbre in the voice sounds all too familiar - she’s got the same drawl stemmed off from you, not to mention the flurry of questions in the opening five seconds. There’s also that sense of bubbliness you’re imagining, the way that you can easily picture her sitting with both knees up, her head tilted in a way where it shows that she’s very uninterested. Or, the other form where she’s leaning forward, leaning into her phone, constantly looking down at the ground and nowhere else. 

She hates the fact that she had to make this call, and you can easily tell. You, on the other end, are trying to put the bits and pieces of the story together to the best of your memory, scratching the back of your head, trying to rattle your slow-working brain. Hanging up would’ve been the best option to follow, save this conversation for later when you can think straight. Typically, you should’ve just ignored the call entirely. 

Tragically, that’s not your style, so you answer, “Hey Rosie, been a while since I’ve heard your voice.” 

A sigh sounds off from the speaker, “Don’t ‘Rosie’ me. I just need you to confirm my suspicions.” 

“On?” 

“Pfft, stop being stupid. I’m not gonna repeat myself here.” 

You breathe out a soft laugh, and hang your head into your chest for a second, collecting your thoughts. “Yes, I did plan that out as a trip for us. Right before we, uh-” 

Silence fills the call immediately after. Despite being on separate paths, the tension still stings like a tightening noose around your neck. Not even a simple grind of your teeth and a clenched fist can serve as the probable testament to the amount of pain you and her suffered together on the tail-end of your relationship, the hope of salvaging lost long before calling it quits. 

“Still there?” Rosé asks, snapping your attention back to her voice. 

“Yeah,” you reply, hiding a sniffle through a quick cough, “I just- yeah. Details can come later.” 

“Okay,” she says, carrying on. “I got that reminder email from the travel organizer.” And at this point you’re cursing yourself and mentally facepalming as many times as you possibly could (seriously, why would you think it was a good idea to set up a reminder through that stupid auto-email service to notify her too as well?), thinking of every contingency to weasel your way out of this conversation. Rosé, however, had no idea of your present thought process, “Went through reading the fine prints of the agreement and…well.” 

“And?” You practically prayed to God that she’d not been this quick to read into the lines and decode the information. 

“Says here that the trip is non-refundable.” That is what Rosé ends with. 

“That so?”

“We can’t cancel it.”

“Too late for us to do that, no?” 

The comforter ruffles behind you, a small hand tapping the lower back of your shirt. “Babe? Who’s that on the phone?” 

You press the switch near your nightstand to put the room into an ambient lighting setting, turning over to see the lovely ruffle of bed hair and one eye open. She then snuggles herself back into the bed, covering herself with the sheets as you’re palming the side of her face to put her back to sleep. “Sorry Jennie, it’s a-” and here is where you’re throwing caution to the wind, ensuring that you don’t trip up on your words at this moment, “late night work call.” So far it’s good, and Jennie nods with a soft hum, lazy smile at the touch of your palm. She’s a bit dazed, but one good measure for insurance, you tell her, “I’ll explain in the morning.” 

Jennie blinks once or twice, dropping her eyelids while you rub your thumb across her cheek, the soothing touch sending her away to dreamland. There’s a warmth here; one where you feel safe, at home. You’ve struck out in getting with a girl like her, and the timing of it couldn’t have been more impeccable: you and Jennie were both at low points in life when you found each other, building up until the feelings couldn’t be suppressed any longer. 

(That story’s for another time. Though, a very heartwarming memory to look back on.) 

Your name, rolling of Rosé’s tongue, drags you back down. “Hello? Oh- yeah, yeah. I’m still here. What were you asking?” 

“So we’re going? Is that what I’m getting at here?” 

The inquiry lances your heart and mind, filling it with an endless plethora of uncertainties. “Wait- what?” 

“Well for one: it’s my ticket. And two: I want to go. If you were going to morph this trip with someone else, I’d understand.” Rosé’s reason is plausible, and you’re seeing a way out of this less and less. “But considering that we had the plans under our names, we’d-” 

“Rosé-” 

“It’s my ticket.” Rosé doubles down and you wince at the fact. “I can imagine you scrunching your face right now, stop that.” 

“Okay, you win.” 

“Good.” 

“I’ll get everything arranged prior in the next few days and pick you up for the airport. Talk to you later.” 

–

At the airport, not to anyone’s surprise, there is an essential bomb rush of families on top of families arriving and checking in and boarding to their set destination. Pro tip: plan the flights ahead of time (especially if it’s during the holiday season), just to avoid any sort of commotion or potential setback on your end. If the flight gets delayed, rescheduled, or relocated to another gate, that’s not your fault. 

God forbid that any of those happen since it would only prolong the amount of time you’d have to spend with Rosé. 

Very small words were exchanged when you picked her up from her apartment, on the way to the airport, and even when you did most of the work getting all of the travel plans for this ‘anniversary gift’ finalized and confirmed. As expected, honestly. Sharing a car ride with your ex was not on your list of places to get stuck in no matter what the predetermined events or circumstances are, but all the more reason to keep your eyes on the road at the time, go figure. 

Rosé’s sitting on the opposite end of you at one of the benches near the boarding gate once everything’s been checked in and settled; along with the security wing gauntlet handled by the TSA, but you’re finally here - waiting for all of this to finally be done and over with. She’s bearing no ounce of attention towards you, mindlessly scrolling on her phone with earbuds in, hoping that you wouldn’t take notice, but you do. And when she does flash a quick look of her eyes in your direction, a millisecond is all you get to dart your eyes elsewhere that isn’t on her. 

Still, you can’t help yourself when you’re mentally rolling back the years. 

Her styling is strikingly the same as it was before. A leather jacket finely pointed at the edges and crooks where it looks like the wrinkles aren’t even supposed to be there in the first place, those flowy pants that make it look like it was ripped off of a parachute and sewed up by a designer as this one-of-one piece. Then, there are the rings, and her pair of shades resting above her forehead; she’s bundled up into the seat like a little kid, an arm holding her phone as it rests along her thigh, both of her shoes are off and she’s got these cute, pink fluffy socks leaving you genuinely confused since the choice practically contradicts the other choices of clothing entirely. Really? Out of all those socks, you chose to go with that pair?

That doesn’t stand out as much compared to the other thing: her hair. 

Maybe God’s rolling the dice on you for this one. Hell, you’re even wondering if God ever rolls dice in his free time upstairs. Purposeful or not, it isn’t doing you any good the more you look at those golden, heavenly locks; braided up and tied back into her head where it doesn’t give any issue for her neck whatsoever. Not to mention her side profile, the shape of her nose, and that jaw. 

The pout she purses with her lips. It’s anything less than innocent. 

On schedule, there’s about roughly an hour or so before your flight to Paris takes off, and you’re not willing to drive yourself insane with very few word phrases spoken. So you make conversation: 

“You dyed your hair again,” you say, clutching your hoodie when Rosé’s attention falls back to you, “Gotta say, I like the color.” 

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Thanks.” Rosé says, pulling an earbud out and sliding both feet off the seat. The phrasing alone is still good enough to pass as awkward, sighing as she turns her head to look out the window - nothing but cloudy skies for miles while a plane touches down on the tarmac. “Blonde’s been such a comforting color for me, so I thought why not roll with it again for fun?” 

“Does bring back memories.” You slide your palms under your thighs, and cross both feet on the floor. “You had this platinum shade back when we first met.” 

“Did I? You still remember that?” Rosé grins at the sudden recollection, folding her glasses and sliding them into her handbag. 

“What do you want to get out of this?” You suddenly ask again, quickly running a hand across your chest to rid of the sweat riddled along your palms. 

“By this, you mean-”

“Our trip,” you amend. Here you’re pulling yourself back a bit - the duo of your luggage and hers acting as this barrier, hoping that the bags can serve as this proximity limiter for the time being. “It’s supposed to be for a week, with an option to extend for another day or so.” 

Rosé tugs the tied bun, scratching her neck to where you notice she got her nails trimmed and done. “A week in Paris doesn’t seem that bad, but planning it during the week of-” 

“Christmas was a bit of a stretch,” you wince with a hand to the back of your head, “It’s still a nice setting to think about, though. Cold weather, snowing, the cups of cocoa we’d drink together at a cafe? What else did I not think about while planning this?” 

Rosé just blinks at you, flabbergasted. She takes a second or longer to get a better look at your face, studying the shapes and curves of your frame as if it were some long-lost art piece that she had a vague familiarity with. Her breathing also slows for a bit when she drops her shoulders a bit, the discarded earbud now hanging as her eyes finally make contact with the floor, diminishing the gaze entirely. 

“Sorry. I had everything thought out for our stay,” you say casually, defeated. “I honestly wish that-” 

“Does Jennie know?” Rosé asks, leaning back into her chair. A premonition bubbling when she shares the same raised eyebrow directly back at you. 

You nod, which you’re half-right about. 

(“A work order in Paris?” Jennie asks you the morning after the first contact via phone call. She’s well aware of your passion for artistry and architecture, so playing the white lie of being ‘assigned’ to study in an attempt to further the progress of the team’s project was an idea worth rolling with. “How long are you going to be there for?” 

“No more than a week,” you answer, confident for no good reason. “Maybe a day or two more.” 

And that’s that.) 

But you zone out for a second too long. “You’re not very convincing,” says Rosé.

“She does,” you spit out again, nodding at a faster pace. “Jennie knows the surface level of this whole thing, at least.” 

“Hah,” Rosé breathes, stretching her neck with another glance. God, even the slightest sound of her laugh sounds the same as it was before - licking the rim of her lips where it meets her teeth, treating herself to the pulled cup of yogurt she bought as a snack to kill the waiting time faster. “Should’ve been honest with her,” she tells you, “I think there wouldn’t be anything wrong if you said my name in the first place instead. Lessens the risk of the possible conjecture.” 

The audacity, it makes you scoff as Rosé carries on with her meal, fixing her lips along the plastic spoon, carelessly nodding and humming while you’re twisting your attention to the passing planes in the air and the trucks rolling along the taxiway. You’re trying extremely hard to not fall into the conscious habit of looking - when the eyes are zig-zagging their way from the ceiling and to the distance of the nearby gate. Somehow, it always falls on her. Always. She’s got her jacket off to compensate for the stuffiness, honey skin radiating, the sleeves of her shirt pooling over her arms, foot underneath her other knee, delicate and unbothered. She’s a time capsule - the kind where you bury deep into the ground and never even think of uncovering years later. 

You thought you could move on, but here she is: within arms reach.  

–

If you thought sitting across from her waiting to board was torture, being next to her was extremely worse. 

Luckily, the aisle seat opened up next to yours and hers, only for it to be taken at the last possible minute, destroying any chance of creating that space between you and Rosé. This part here gets juicy: Rosé opted for the window seat and considering that the aisle was already taken, this puts you right smack in the middle of the row. She also raised the armrest set between you and her, making your final line in terms of creating a temporary vicinity practically nonexistent. Nothing will happen in a fourteen-hour flight, right? Rosé gives you the quick rundown of what she wants for her in-flight meals when she can put her legs onto your seat while you go to the restroom (and wished to stay there for the rest of the flight, but you know damn well enough that you can’t), even when she’s saying to not freak out if her head falls on your shoulder while sleeping - also, don’t mind if I grab onto your arm if I’m watching some scary movie. Every excuse seems like a death sentence added on to prolong your suffering. 

The man sitting next to you weaves the discussion about the cold air from outside being brought into the cabin, some aerospace thing about the insulation and great air conditioning, but all you can give is a forced hearty smile and these nods of agreement as his wife says something embarrassing to butt herself into the talking bubble, rolling your eyes at the pair out of spite. 

You’re giving your two cents about how you liked cold weather (out of all things to discuss for God knows why), and the couple takes your opinion well with open arms and minds. The wife leans over to see Rosé, glancing over before turning her head back to the window, putting two and two together: 

“Are you two also going to Paris for your honeymoon?” She asks, the man also taking the hint with an ‘o’ shaped mouth. 

“Uhh, that’s a bit of a tough question to answer,” you chuckle nervously as the wife makes the quick inference, carrying on with the long conversation (which was very one-sided from this point on) about how she and the man sitting next to you are so in love, their plans for their honeymoon and anniversary. You can’t help but be intrigued and infatuated with how you’re able to see love bloom right in front of your eyes. They ask you if there are any recommendations and you being the goody-two-shoes that you are, it only gets them to keep talking still. In the midst of all of this Rosé peeks over your shoulder, hand to your elbow as a sign to shut you up, but you send the same elbow back to make her stop. 

Eventually, when the plane does move onto the runway and up in the air, the couple continue their monologue of how they met, their dreams, their occupations, what they like to do in their free time, the names of their cats, where they see themselves in the next five to ten years. Rosé then looks over again, lending her ears to listen to the lovely story candidly as you see her eyes filled with so much awe and wonder; she finds it funny too, and you’re seeing what she’s seeing: because that would’ve been the case if you and her had not split. 

All the infinite possibilities you’re thinking off, it’s spilled right in front of you, and it gets you thinking. 

–

(Midway through the long flight, you’re not even getting a wink of sleep when Rosé’s tossing and turning in the seat next to you. Some are watching assorted movies, you could hear a kid cry a few rows back, the usual experience. 

Her knee hits your thigh as you’re scooting your butt away from her, unwilling to make a shape with her body, pulling the complimentary blanket up to her neck. 

“Did you ever think of getting first class for the trip?” She asks, irritated. “My seat’s getting kicked from behind, and I can’t put my feet on the ground.” 

“I’d be paying an additional two hundred or more to get it reserved,” you tell her, making yourself as comfortable as you can, leaning the seat back. “The next best thing was econ, so deal with it.” 

She rests her head on the upper part of your arm, eye mask on and everything, falling asleep soon after.) 

–

Upon the arrival gate, you do manage to get a few hours of shut-eye, backpack in hand and a trailing Rosé behind when crossing over the inside of the airport, voice conveniently drowning out the same kid who was crying not long ago during the flight. 

“I can’t believe you let me sleep for six hours. Six hours.” you’re complaining, and rightfully so. “Look at you, who managed to sleep for pretty much the whole time. I had to take it on the chin, listening to their entire life story when I could’ve watched whatever you were watching while you were snoring away.” 

Rosé has her shades on, hiding a bit of her puffy face and eye bags. “So? What’s it to ya? I’m not the one who decided to lean over and eavesdrop on their lovely conversation.” 

“I was checking if our row was in the correct spot.” 

She chuckles. “Yeah yeah, keep coming up with the lame excuses buddy.” 

“You-” 

“Try every alibi you’ve got in the book, but I know you well,” says Rosé victoriously, sideswiping her way in front of you on the auto walk, rolling her small hand carry around to sit on, taking a breath. She rolls her neck around, stretching - an arm at a weird angle facing down, extending her leg between your feet. Personal space was going to be an issue, you’ve already drawn up that conclusion; considering that you sat with her for roughly about fourteen to sixteen hours with the occasional retreat to the bathroom and the awkward indulgence with one of the flight attendants, you dread how the living situation will be once you and her get to the hotel room. This might be hell for you, but only time will tell which circle you’re finding yourself in. 

“That should not have taken you that long to get our thing set up together,” Rosé lightly berates, handing over her luggage to you once you’ve hailed the provided ride accommodation from the travel company. “If I were the one handling this trip, I would’ve hit points x, y, and z in less time than you. Do you not know the basic cues to kill a conversation?” 

You don’t answer. Because arguing isn’t gonna get you anywhere with her. 

(Telling yourself lies was a strength, but also your curse as well. Somehow you keep getting away with it.) 

You roll your eyes at the rhetorical question, placing all the bags into the trunk of the cab. “C’mon, don’t play the bad cop here. You know damn well that I’ve always been terrible at getting myself out of situations like those. It also didn’t help that she and the couple on the plane sounded so upbeat and enthusiastic.” 

“It’s okay,” Rosé says, patting your shoulder as a form of truce. “Besides, that’s how you met me technically.” She gets into the cab soon after, settling into the backseat. 

And you take a second to internalize the said phrase, scanning the horizon of the cityscape in the backdrop. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you’re muttering to yourself, getting into the cab with Rosé, with most of the ride pretty much quiet as you’re both looking out the opposite windows. 

–

For some added context, Rosé waltzed into your life on a random Tuesday morning in the first week of fifth grade. 

It’s something straight out of a coming-of-age movie or slow-burning romance novel: up until that point, you’ve had boys as your deskmates through the grades with one of them being your close friend going forward. 

She would change all of that - a bit pathetic now that you’re looking back at it: her being the first girl that you would ever talk to let alone sit next to you for the entire school year - but you didn’t mind though, since she was easy to get along with. 

As the days turned into months and into years, you and Rosé shared everything and in between with each other. From exchanging your favorite cartoon shows on a Saturday afternoon when there was no homework, which subject was the favorable one to learn, favorite colors, why she didn't like playing sports compared to you, the blown-out-of-proportion drama over who was the popular girl in school at the time, the score you got on the last math test, what were you going to do over the summer break. There was never a moment where you or she filled in on anything worth sharing. 

Rosé knows everything about you inside and out. The same could be said for your end of the table. 

You’ve created the progressive drawn-up schematic well into high school. Her occasional gossip debriefs, the endless rants about that one teacher who would always give her a hard time, whether or not she should go to the dances (dragging you as her plus one, where she came extremely close to back in junior year), worrying about her near-perfect grades to the point she would overcomplicate every single minute detail that pops up with every last check before turning in an assignment. Then, there’s the crushes. Her occasional flings - to which, she had multiples of them, telling all of the unnecessary details of what she did with the guys on every date, sharing with you all the pros and cons of what her ideal type is. 

But here’s the thing. 

She was giving you all the signals for you to not notice. All the boxes in her list where you checked off nearly every single one of them. The realization itself came to you on a late night when she was passed out on the coffee table, papers on top of papers of notes before college admissions being submitted, turning a blind eye away from the few bottles of soju she consumed to power through even when you said that it was a terrible idea. 

The small intake of alcohol helped you connect the dots right then and there: you were in love with her. 

Playing it safe was the name of the game. And on your part, it was justified to keep yourself at a distance from Rosé, not putting any sort of risk in ruining the long friendship you’ve built with her. Why lay everything on the line with someone who occupied half of your brain already? 

“You won’t know unless the leap of faith has been made,” Lisa says to you at the time, and that's probably the only source of assurance you ever needed to hear. 

So, you make that leap.

A simple line or two is all you said where Rosé’s eyes go wide when you see her off at the front of her house, nothing else to be said when her weight collapses on top of you for an overdue hug. Talk about romantic confessions, am I right? 

Once word went around various friend groups the both of you were in, it didn’t come off as much of a surprise. Most people had already made that conclusive pairing long before you started to read into the social cues and fast glances without you knowing. What mattered in the end was that you were finally with her after all this time. 

It could’ve been written in ink right there and then: she was your first crush, first girlfriend, first kiss, first relationship, first love. 

That should have been the end of the story. The greatest score you could ever pull off in your life. Job done. 

–

(Until it wasn’t. She would eventually be the first terrible heartbreak you would ever have to endure. 

First time for everything, remember?”)

–

“You’re kidding.” Rosé deadpans, walking into the open space of the hotel room, scanning. Her first reaction then shifts once she drops her bags right where they are, walking around the singular king-size bed, showered in rose petals formed into a heart with two towels folded up into quaint but cute swans resting with both of their beaks touching at the top. “You can’t be serious.” 

Your hands go straight into your pockets, the corners of your lips pulled flat, indifferent. “Isn’t it the thought that counts?” 

Rosé bears no mind to your bland answer. Granted, she’s partial to the fact of going through this whole trip with you, patting the head of the towel swan before turning her attention to the table at the corner of the room, a bottle of champagne kept cool in an ice bath. “I’ll give you points for the effort,” she sighs, “Care to tell me how much you paid for everything in this room?” 

The cork goes flying once you lay your bearings, approaching her as she pours the golden liquid into the arranged champagne flutes, handing it over before she spills some of it over the counter on her own.

“I put in a request, that’s all.” She nods in acknowledgment while you take a nice, quick swig of the beverage, hoping to let it sting in your throat as you try to ignore the insane price tag, gazing past the window and to the nearby buildings. “Some of the stuff was extra, well, perks and all.” 

“That so?” Rosé breathes, chuckling. You watch her down an impressive amount, humming at the taste. There’s an old film happening here, impossible to ignore. Her hair’s a little messed up, eyelids dropping low. You have to stand down here, don’t get any funny ideas, tilting your head slightly when the glow of the streetlights below hit her face, radiating, see her lip pulled back between her teeth-

Snapping your attention back to the city skyline was a good mental call. Clearing your throat was even better; anything worth grabbing to consolidate. 

You look over again to see a smile from the side, “It’s so beautiful at night.” 

A pretty sweet view to turn back on, and you agree with her. 

“I’ll go shower first,” Rosé says after clearing her throat, “We’ve had a long day anyway.” 

“Yeah, go on ahead.” 

She then puts her flute back on the table before walking back to her suitcase. You keep your body forward and your feet where they’re at, looking out into the city some more until you eventually hear the shower running. The thought crosses your head again, thinking about all of the things you did to get into this position - moments where you failed to think logically, it’s a mess in your head at this point. 

(Of all people, why did it have to be her? Being practically stranded in the city of love is one thing, but, maybe this is God or the universe trying to make good for your sake - who knows, only time will tell.)

–

This journey may be an ascent to a refined sense of closure or a descent back down into hell; how you look at it is entirely up to you. 

“Do you think I’m contagious or something?” Rosé huffs out in annoyance, tossing a nearby pillow in your direction, forcing you to look up at her sitting upright on the bed - you on the couch at the other end, hoping to create some distance in whatever way you can possible. “The bed’s big enough for the two of us.” 

“I find it better to not entertain that risk.” 

“You slept on the floor in my room multiple times.” 

“Okay I- you- well,” you stutter, words bouncing all over the place as your fingers grip tight into the book in your hands, “that’s different.” 

Rosé then folds her legs up, knees resting underneath her chin. You’re lucky that the reading light hanging over your spot is enough to hide the growing heat of red rising to your cheeks. Ever since she was the one to end things four years ago, contact with Rosé had been pretty much nonexistent, and for good reason. It was already hard to lose your best friend and past lover in one go, but here she is again acting like nothing had happened between you two. Maybe she’s doing what you did: engaging in conversation - though every dreadful second has been painstakingly difficult, looking back to see her head go sideways, an inquisitive gaze written all over her face, the small quirk at the corner of her lip every time she smiles - in your eyes, she’s still the same as before, there’s no difference. 

“It’s not a risk,” Rosé says, placing her head back up against the headboard, “I’m just saying that the couch over there looks uncomfortable.” 

“I’ll manage. Thanks.” 

Rosé then grabs another pillow within her reach, and places it beneath her forearms, straightening out her legs on the bed. “Idiot,” she hisses, the tone almost as a projection. 

That catches your attention: her attitude. She looks away when you twist your head towards her again. “What was that?” 

“Nothing,” she pouts, “I was just trying to get some talking going.” 

Look, playing defensive isn’t wrong by any means. Tactically, that’s the best way to approach things that you’re unfamiliar with. Rosé’s mannerisms, her habits, the quirks she does, you have every trick from her in your personal playbook. You can try to run and hide all you want, but sometimes taking things head-on is the only way to go. 

Rosé here is just- existing. You can tell that she’s far removed from creating any sort of effort into talking; aware of the lingering tension and awkwardness she left all those years ago. Above all that, she carries on with her one-sided conversation - which is sort of relieving to listen to, just hearing her voice, rambling about anything and literally everything that she could bring up. There’s that quick recollection of all the instances, all the times where she would tell you about the countless things where shutting up wasn’t an option. Her outlook on life hasn’t changed, and you admire that she’s bright and passionate about how things work in the world. 

“It’s a bit relieving,” you tell her innocently, “you here reminding me of those days.” 

Nostalgia was something worth decoding between the lines, and Rosé knows this. There’s nothing wrong with filling in what you’ve done in the past year or two, moving on after what you originally thought was the toughest period of your life. Protecting your peace, prioritizing your health - that kind of thing. 

“I know that I left you in a really bad place for so long,” she implies, coming to terms for her actions. Hoping to not open up the old wound, sugarcoating it. 

“We were at different points in our lives,” you console. You’re not so entirely sure of yourself if it’s the alcohol talking or the foundations of your inner walls crumbling. “I just thought that-” 

“Don’t.” Rosé commands, crossing her arms over the pillow. “Don’t.” 

“Okay, but still - I just wished that it didn’t have to end that way.” 

It goes and it goes. Rosé keeps her gaze fixed on you as you’re nodding, mindful of what the words are but not saying it. Instead, you keep it lighthearted and put it in a positive perspective and it may be worthy of a few snaps of her fingers.

The late-night convos are a little relaxing, so you’ll take that as a plus. 

–

The first ‘actual’ day of the trip is pretty uneventful. 

Nothing too substantial to report other than the fact it was a mix of cloudy skies and rain from time to time. 

Rosé insisted on following the itinerary, walking around the streets, and trying out various cafes handpicked by her. Then there’s the usual landmarks within walking distance too: the Arc de Triomphe, the Grand Palais, and no point in going to the Eiffel Tower since there was zero visibility at the top, so you divert to the Notre Dame Cathedral and try again a different day when the weather clears up. 

(Without a care in the world, she runs up the sidewalk and turns around, arms wide open: “We’re not in Kansas anymore are we?

You give her a face of genuine confusion, “What?” Her face falls flat and you’re left there saying: “What.”) 

Aside from the good food and everything around you picturesque and as ‘fresh inspiration’, Rosé takes this opportunity to capture whatever stood out to her: candid pictures of you on film, other city goers doing their everyday routine, in addition to the photos she took at the different landmarks. She has you taking pictures of her, not as a possible memento. No. But you can’t turn her down whatsoever - you just can’t. 

–

(All of that is about to change, and the rain starts to pick up well into the evening. In the figurative scheme of things, you could put this as the heart of the storm; the moment where lighting can strike twice in the same spot. It could happen.)

- 

Somehow the sim card in your phone keeps bugging out every few hours or so. The reception around the city hasn’t been that bad per se, but trying to get some calls back home has been a bit of a pain - so you had to work with what you got. Texting was the second best option for reaching Jennie, hoping that you can keep the act up by keeping her in the loop of this whole getaway. So far the messages have been casual, typical fill-ins of her day since you left, missing you. 

To compensate for the international phone rates, you managed to find a payphone. An odd surprise at best and you suppose that it shouldn’t take forever in the booth, but the pitter-patter of the droplets hitting along the glass gave a small indication that this might take longer than expected. 

The line continues to ring for a second or two longer, and then- 

Click. 

The silence becomes a slight worry, fingers gripping the phone, hoping that you could hear a hum - or that lovely violet voice that sends your heart thrumming right from the first letter. 

Instead, you hear her laugh, and a sigh soon after. It might’ve been a moan as well, you know that much. 

Another voice picks up at the end of the call, one that you’re very not familiar with: “Hel- Hello? Who’s this? Jennie, I think it’s your-” 

There’s no fucking way. 

Everything around the booth starts to fade in and out of focus. Rational thought was still in play, but barely - trying to put all of the little pieces together in a short amount of time. It’s not enough. Your jaw tightens, fighting the blood simmering through your veins. There’s too many questions to be asked, but only a few answers to take. You’re not entirely sure what these wave of emotions actually are - and it could be a lot of things: anger, fear, rage, sadness? 

“Shit. Give me the- hello?” Jennie’s voice tries to calm you, but it’s already too late for that. “Wait, it’s not what you think it is, I swear-” 

“I think I’ve heard enough from you.” 

“Babe, if you just let me explain-” 

You don’t think twice about hanging up. Your mind doesn’t even register the pain being imbued into your hands when you’re punching the glass furiously in quick succession. Hell, when you leave the booth, the realization has slowly started to set in, but the tears simply won’t come out. 

I thought you were different. 

The rain falls a lot harder now that you’ve finally stepped outside and look up to the dark sky, as if the universe is sharing its sorrowfulness as well. 

You were supposed to be different.

–

If you had the chance to put all of your thoughts and feelings from your past relationships into a bottle or glass, you’d drink it down until there’s absolutely nothing at the bottom; the pain might’ve been tolerable then. No matter how many shots it’s been, it’s still not enough. 

You don’t even remember when you first walked into the bar, but you order another shot anyway. The coat next to you still needs a few more minutes to dry up as it is. 

The alcohol stings when it travels down your throat, mind working way past overtime - thinking back of all the times when you’ve been duped, deceived, exploited - but to no avail. It's a bit pathetic that the worst kinds of people show up when you least expect it, even if it's those who you hold close dearly to your heart. Relationships and commitment to you have always been complicated; an unwritten cosmic law etched into the stars. 

In hindsight, it just really fucking sucks. 

It’s gotten so bad to the point where you’re being woken up after passing out for maybe five or ten or so minutes. You don’t remember. Your memory is in these black patches - rough blots of ink with no detail underneath as your vision slowly forms. A girl is next to you; a calm, soothing voice bringing you closer to the light. Everything’s still blurry, but you can barely make out the silhouette: dark hair, fine skin, smooth palm holding your face. It’s comforting, you start to question if this was the present reality, but you take a shot in the dark:

“Jennie?” you say, mind buzzed and speech slurred. 

“No. Dingus.” 

Ah, it was worth a shot. You can see things a lot more clearer now. Instead of the shaded dark hair, it’s the opposite: hot blonde. The texture of the jacket too is also familiar, her hand is surprisingly wet from the rain, and she sounds out of breath - like she ran here. 

Rosé. 

“What the hell happened to you?” She asks, distressed, holding your face before lightly shoving it away realizing what she was doing.

You try your best to explain the situation; but considering the plethora of drinks you had on the tab along with the alcohol in your system, you don’t actually explain anything at all. 

She could only hear the sniffles coming out of your nose. 

Rosé then takes a second look, and puts another piece of the damage together. It’s all over your face: the puffy eyes, bloodied knuckles, your irises once filled with light now an empty, deep void - like something sucked the life right out of you. 

“Something happened with Jennie, no?” The name pierces your heart at the guiltless inquiry.

“Kinda,” you answer with a hiccup at the end. “It’s all the same between me and love, honestly.” 

Rosé then draws back, your face still in her hands, internalizing the present state. You think she might’ve realized a thought right then and there, an instance where she's been before not long ago. It doesn’t take that much more for her to learn what you had done to get here; let alone who managed to hurt you in the first place. Because she’s been here before, and she now knows what her mistake was two years ago. 

So instead of running away, she pulls you in for a hug. You break down a little harder for a moment. No point in hiding. 

She doesn’t say anything after leaning back. The best form of comfort she could give were both palms to your cheeks, wiping the dried-up tears off as best as she could. Somehow you barely even manage to make eye contact with her again, afraid to even look away in the first place. 

You’re not sure if you leaned in or if she pulled you back to her, but your mind clears up instantly the second she kisses you. 

Her lips are the same way as you remember them: nice and soft and undeniably comforting. Both of her hands keep you in place, the wistful inhale of her nose matches yours, wanting more of this rising heat spreading across your faces. She kisses like she missed you and- in a partly true way, for all the wrong reasons. Gripping and clutching wherever she can, afraid to let go of you again like the last time. You or her could practically melt in this little pocket created and recall sometime later and try to decipher every little individual action leading up to this, whether or not to write this off as an act of grace or an admission of cruelty - one or the other will have you sinking at the end. 

Rosé stops herself, eyes half-lidded, pulling her swollen bottom lip like some sort of warning. 

“I uh-” Crap. You should’ve known better, but you can’t help or blame the drinks for making you like this. “I-I’m sorry. You didn’t have to-” 

“It’s okay.” 

“But-” 

“C’mon,” she persists, holding your hand and nodding her head sideways, “let’s get out of here.” 

–

You’re more aware of your actions now, in the late hours of the city - where anyone could get away with anything. With that taken into account, this is the perfect time to hide away; out of anybody’s sight and the risk of getting caught is the least of your worries. 

Rosé’s nose bumps yours when you’ve pressed her against the brick wall in some alley - calming every form of impulse as you could, but it’s futile. Her arms wrap around your neck and you’re cupping her face, tilting her head up to elicit a gasp between her lips. 

“Fuck,” she rasps, and it’s pretty when she curses. Her hands go everywhere, haywire. A last act of desperation she does is dig her fingers into the back of your head, only making your arms pull her in closer, hindering the purpose of what she’s trying to achieve. You’d let her, and that’s exactly what she’s going for here. 

“I’m a bit drunk still,” you admit, feeling the tips of her fingers graze along the nape of your neck. “So don’t beat me up if I can’t remember everything after tonight.” 

Rosé’s hand shifts to your jaw, kissing you again so easily; giving you little to no time to react. Like she’s coaxing you into thinking differently that’s better than your common sense. A few more smacks here and there happen, the cool air surrounding both of you trying to flush the heat out. 

The press of her face is anything out of the ordinary, humming into your mouth that deepens the sinking pit happening in your stomach. It isn’t anything new. 

Because that’s the impending phase of her slowly coming back to light. She was always vocal and forward with how she took on the world; leaving a mark of what she had done not far either. Her hands cup your face so tenderly, and each longing touch of her lips against yours sends a tidal wave of memories flooding back - this entity that’s all-consuming where you could only handle so much, a hand to the side of her throat where the kiss deepens, surrendering your mind to hers

Maybe it was the timing of everything, a thought to theorize with once it’s all said and done. 

“You’re broken again,” she whispers between your lips. 

“Among other things,” you darted back, sighing slowly and head lowered. But it’s the truth. “Yeah, won’t say any more.” Your eyes meet hers as you slowly retreat. 

“It’s okay.” Rosé concludes, eyes filled with so much care and empathy into them, thumb grazing along your cheek, cleaning another dry trail from the tears. “You have me.” 

My god, this woman- 

“I honestly convinced myself that you’d already moved on,” her gaze goes crestfallen, pulling her lips inward. “To think that I left you there by yourself, after everything we’ve been through. It ruined me too since - it wasn’t even your fault to begin with.” 

You swallow your pride and turn yourself over on the wall. 

Most of your mind is drawing blanks - bits and pieces of the picture caricatured through a warm mouth and fingertips. The draft in itself is a bit fucked up, sketched at the last possible minute; hands ghosting your jacket, tracing a line or two into the fabric of your shirt, trailing lower along the waistband of your pants. “You’re kidding, right?” 

Rosé snorts at the whisper, lowering her eyelids when she’s peppering your neck again with kisses. “We’re not having a problem here are we?” She says that as she’s descending to her knees, looking up so innocently like some angel incarnate - contradicting the current action she’s presenting right now.  

“Look. Rosé, we really shouldn't-” 

She pays no attention to the pleading when she’s palming your length through your underwear, thumb sliding up against the underside while your other hand settles with hers set at the side of your thigh. “Okay, I mean - like this is just wrong - you don’t- god, why are you even-” 

Rosé here, doesn’t give you any chance to breathe or recuperate the fast flow of thoughts. Her eyes remain unimpressed with a tilt of her head, closing in with the newly uncovered area at your waist, and the twist of her lips brings forth a sense that’s been lost to hidden waves of time. 

She inhales, coaxing you much to the point where you’re looking up to the sky above for some safe passage. 

“Mmmmm.” 

You might as well be fucked from this point on. At least you’ll play into the game Rosé’s putting up with her mouth all over you. 

“Oh, oh fuck-” 

It’s all in the simple movements and adjustments - the hair being pulled back to the cuff of her ear, the way she bottoms your cock down to the base and rests for a second, the graze of her teeth across the topside, sending your hips chasing for more of that addicting bite. She hollows out her cheeks to the right pressure of suction, bracing her hands on your thighs as she begins to pick up a steady rhythm. Down, side to side, then up. Down, side to side, then up. You could picture her lashes fluttering with every slide down your shaft, humming right along the skin as if she’s proffering a way of reflecting, praising with little to no words but with plump lips and a warm tongue. 

“Gotta say,” Rosé starts, after reeling back for a second, “I remembered why I loved this cock so much.” 

You’ve got her hair in the grips of your fingers, thrusting your cock back past those pretty lips, hoping to shove her words right back down her throat - which works so much better than you initially expected. The brain is working triple the amount of overtime to register and compensate for the endless rush of stimulation your body is getting; the buzz of the alcohol fading with every new layer of spit lathered across the length, watching Rosé’s head continue to bob at a faster pace between your legs. She doesn’t let you off that easily when her hand coils itself at the base, the other cradling your balls with the right amount of pressure - prompting you to use both of your hands to grip her head, making the motion as seamless as possible. You could feel her throat go slack, opening up the edges to where your cock can fill in the space - the gags alone break above the audible ambiance of rain hitting the ground beneath the both of you. 

“Fuck me.” And at this point, your level of thinking is so thrown under limbo. The sounds alone are music to your ears. A lost tune waiting to be heard again. Wanting. “Rosé, you-” 

“Ummphgh,” is all you manage to get out of her, the spit and slippery slick of her mouth the only point of contact. You look down and see it in her eyes: glassy and welled up; like was meant to be used like this, a vessel to provide and clean up the mess of every lap her tongue makes to your underside and the seam of your balls. An angel like her, her wings clipped after committing a damming act, hoping to earn them back in any way she can. When you slide your cock out of her slack mouth - slap the member across her swollen lips, eyes closed and jaw lowered as you’re leaving behind the sloppy and unmarked territory that you’ll come back to not long after.  

She nods and gags. You want to make her fucking choke.  

All of this should be drawn up as a one-off, never to be spoken of again. She didn’t have to go this far, being on her knees for you like this. Neither of you owe anything to each other. Some of this might have some meaning carried with the way that Rosé speaks with her eyes, mixed with a concoction of want and sorrowfulness, opening her mouth so wide for you to take with no remorse.

And when you cum deep into her throat, it’s all in her eyebrows - the way she accepts, poisoning your morality just like that. 

The pulses do die down eventually, and Rosé tilts her head to the side to give you a better look at her swallowing your release; wiping her lip in a slight relishment, damp hair falling in front and her fingers dancing along the line of her jaw - internalizing the rewarding ache. Her eyes shimmer in the low lighting, her skin covered in this spreading glow of pale and glistening. Most of her lip gloss is gone, now mixed with the layer of smeared spit all over your cock. You’re cradling her head delicately, thumb grazing the temple and some of the ends of her hair, giving you a list of things to fix. 

Rosé smacks her lips, and runs her tongue against the upper profile of her teeth. “Well then,” she starts, “hope that was enough to calm your nerves for the time being.” 

You’re trying extremely hard to slow your breathing, watching while she brings a wrist to her face, wiping up the damage. 

“We’re so fucked up,” you barely say, clearing your throat. 

“Between us?” Rosé implies, finally rising from her knees and patting your shoulders down as an out-of-touch way to comfort, “That’s old news, buddy.” 

You pull her in a bit again, placing the distance of her face to yours a little over the double digits. There’s no point in ignoring her gravity, the way that you find yourself a tad magnetized, bringing out a side where it was for her and only her. She could be an entity of a higher being, probably God’s given gift from himself which you once had lost. A blessing and curse that’s managed to find their way back into your arms again. 

“Now that I think about it,” you’re saying, combing some of her blonde locks before ghosting your hand just above her head, “You’ve always been the same as before.” 

Rosé’s eyelids dip, peculiar, curious. That sly grin at the corner of her lip laced with the dimple trailing not far after, it’ll do you numbers. It’s happened before. 

But she puts a hand to the side of your face, a soft smile to seal the whole act up as she starts to peel away. “Think you can walk to the hotel in a straight line without my help?” 

“You’re gonna leave me outside if you get there first.” You answer jokingly. 

She might as well if she wanted to, and you won’t be that far behind. 

—

Hangovers. They’re the worst. 

Normally in times like these: you’d lie in bed facing up to the ceiling, playing back all the events and instances in your mind to the best of your ability, and then get washed by the feeling of regret or questions of why you did actions a, b, and c. Fuck around and find out they say, that’s how the learning experience goes. 

Although this would be the exception- 

“That’s all it took for you? Just the voice by itself?” Rosé asks you the morning after, tending to the wounds on your hands, easily stacked at the wrists, and caring for them with a mother’s touch. “If it were me, I would’ve hung up by the first five seconds of silence.” 

“Here’s the thing: I’m not you.” 

Rosé rolls her eyes and puts the attention back to your knuckles. She grazes them with her fingertips once the dried-up blood has been washed away and sealed with a bandage. Her hands alone may look small, but the size has been apparent compared to yours. “You broke the glass from that payphone booth, didn’t you?” 

“If I kept retelling you what I did, would you believe me by then?” You ask flatly. 

“I’m just-” she stutters for a second when she zips up the first aid kit, “-surprised, honestly - and don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen you angry before. I didn’t expect it to be that serious.” 

“Wow. Way to beat around the bush I guess.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“I know you are. Slightly.” 

Rosé leans back to get more of you in view, examining the new patches to cover the temporary pain left because of your actions. The repercussions don’t have to be said when it’s already shown. Good thing you brought gloves for a reason - a proper excuse to keep your hands warm when the weather gets colder. 

“Are you okay?” She asks after a brief period of silence. 

Your head twists back towards her. “Hm?” 

“I’m being genuine. Are you okay?” she says to you again, this time leaning to place her elbows on the table. “When I picked you up from the bar, you looked wrecked.” 

“Which I was. So, you’re not entirely wrong here.” 

Rosé then curls her fingers, resting her chin on top of them. Her eyes were full of concern. She doesn’t have to do all this - the nice, good girl willing to reconnect and rekindle even though you and her both know that things ended in a rough patch prior. She didn’t have to agree to go on the trip with you, but the intentions here are good - for the most part. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” The inquiries from her keep on coming. 

“I think we should come back to this topic when I’m in a better headspace,” you tell her, and she doesn’t bother asking anymore. “What about-” 

“Huh?” 

“I was gonna say something about, well-” you clear your throat before wiping the lower half of her face before finding the right words to deliver the next topic, “last night when we-” 

“Don’t expect you to remember much. Being drunk is a valid excuse,” she tells you, crossing her arms together with a little furrow in her brows. “One-time thing. No strings attached. Got it?” 

“Are you sure?” 

She nods convincingly. “Yeah, I’m sure.” 

“Okay,” you murmur, massaging your temple. 

“Okay,” Rosé echoes, knocking on wood twice for good luck. “I say we go out then.” 

“What? Where to?” You dart back while she stands up from the seat, shuffling away to her luggage. “Uh, hey-” 

Rosé snorts a bit, lets out a hearty laugh, one full of pure mischief. “I’m hungry. And we can put off room service for another time.” 

–

“How many cafes have we been to in the past hour?” you’re asking Rosé, jaw dropped at the abundance of people waiting for their coffee orders ahead of you two. “Jesus, with this amount of caffeine, you’re gonna give me a heart attack.” 

Rosé’s head turns, sipping the last bits of her beverage from the previous place you two were at, shaking the cup now full of ice. “Don’t give me that.” She laughs. “Jisoo was the one who recommended the places to me.” Her head leans back to get a few ice cubes in her mouth since the crunches are satisfying to her. “If anything, it’s your fault that you can’t keep up with-” 

“I’d rather prioritize my health than drain it all away with a lot of drinks and a heart condition.” you sigh, taking the hint of her waving the cup in front of you to throw out, looking back out to listen for the number of your order. (They’ve been alternating from counting into the high forties and low twenties. It’s all confusing how any of this is efficient.) “Though the pastries and drinks have been amazing to try, so I thank you.” 

She looks up at you again, flipping some of her back over her shoulder, flaunting a little shimmy of her shoulders. Like she’s aware of the praise, the compliments, the credit, and everything else lying underneath the verbal nuances. “Perks of having me as your foodie guide for the tour.” 

“You’re so stupid,” you say, gaze dropping down to your feet in disappointment. 

A nudge to your shoulder is all she gives before turning her body away. “Such a bitch.” 

“Preaching the truth,” you reply - a hum in the timbre, playing into the banter. “That’s why they paired both of us together: toothbrush and toothpaste. peas in a pod-” 

You flinch a bit when she raises a hand, but you can’t help yourself to laugh as she surrenders the idea of making a scene in public. It’s all good fun in the end, a breath of fresh air. 

Then the matcha order gets called up, perfect timing. 

–

You and Rosé do celebratory cheers with the clear plastic cups, swirl the tea inside before drinking a good third of it down, nod, and acknowledge the amount in addition to the taste. She then asks you to give it a rating - where you place it pretty high on the given scale. 

“That’s really good,” you say, wetting your lips for another sip. 

“What’d I tell you?” Rosé asks after, all comfy with her drink in both hands, watching you take in another swig because why not? “This place might be the best one on the list.” 

“You mean Jisoo’s list,” you tease. “But sure, you can claim this list as yours since she’s not here to protest against it.” 

“Right. I’ll do exactly that.” 

You take notice of the same gaze that she’s been holding for the past few minutes now. It’s probably too late to realize that it's a honey trap: the more that your curiosity gets the best of you, the more likely that you’ll forget about everything else. A good look at her rosy cheeks, the stray strands of blonde hair sticking out because of the fuzziness that her scarf is emitting, much to the point that you can’t even see her neck beneath all of that. 

“Sorry,” you’re saying, leaning your head sideways more to get a closer look. Nobody’s falling for it, especially not her. “There’s a stain right about-” 

Rosé keeps her hands right where they are in holding the drink, eyes glued to your hand ghosting her face, the slightest touch where you’re cupping her jaw to keep it in place. You do manage to get the small mess off but make no other move. 

She turns her head slightly towards your hand, parting her lips; and a part of your head starts to flip internally. 

“What are you thinking about right now?” Rosé proposes, you think it’s intentional like she wanted you to do that. You can see it in her alluring shade of whiskey, clouded with mystery, shrouding a burning sensation behind those irises, blinking prettily. 

“If I told you, it won’t happen later.” 

“Oh yeah?” Rosé tuts, capturing her bottom lip between her teeth, and dips her head a few inches. “I’m intrigued,” her voice is a witch’s spell. She scoots herself towards you, closing the bubble away from the world, the moment alone stretched longer than usual. 

“I shouldn’t kiss you,” you tell her, practicing caution. A last reminder thrown up in an imaginary white flag. 

“But you could, right?” Rosé says in the sheerest hint of innocence, but the message says all sorts of corruption, "Where's the harm in that?” 

Setting yourself up for the mind-meld was always a tall task, especially with a girl like Rosé. You could rationalize how the universe has managed to put you on this tightrope, with no hope of making it to the ends; the only choice would be to embrace this fall from grace, and feel every emotion. 

She inches closer, the intent clear as day. “Y’know,” the tension is already hanging low amongst the both of you, “I’d be okay with it.” 

��

(Look. Saving yourself the embarrassment was always going to be a lost cause. Consider it as a premonition, the tug of anticipation of playing things out the way they are, rewind the clip or recording to catch something new every take; a wish to alter the cause and effect. No matter how you look at it, what’s done is done.) 

–

The intimacy itself gets thrown out the window, and finding a proper hold would be a lesser worry to think about. Rosés frantically slithering out of her overcoat, biting your lip in what you assume is an accident, and pressing her into the wall catches her off guard and she bumps into your face. Your thumbs are at her cheeks, holding her face in place, and the hooded eyes get pulled away; you’re thinking, she’s thinking -  and all she can say is, “don’t start having second thoughts now.” It’s another green light from her to pick up where you left off, feel her arms have no sense of direction until they finally rest around the crooks of your neck and shoulders, quick draws of air passing through each other’s lips until you and her eventually fill in that space once more. 

Even if there’s no label between you two now, the knowledge is already present there in the low lights. 

“Let me remind you,” you’re telling her, smiling as her tongue clashes with yours, scrunching up your neck as her hands are working fast to slip you out of your top. “You started this.” 

Her chin tilts up, grazing the peak of your jaw, lips trained on yours and kissing like it’s second nature; since she exactly remembers how to wind you up, unraveling. The scrunch of your neck goes away once the top falls along the floor, making out with you for what feels like it’s been forever. 

“Maybe I did,” says Rosé, landing another kiss on the line of your chin, hand caressing the back of your head, unwilling to let go of you. “And can I be honest? I don’t hear you complaining about it.” 

“Now why would I?” 

She leans back against the drywall, arm up as if you were holding her by the wrist, but you aren’t - at least, not yet. Puffs her chest up with the help of the arch behind. “That’s the question,” she answers, hand palming the seat of your pants, fingers curling slightly, “That’s always the question.” 

A window of opportunity is here. You can see it. She could lay out all the hints in front of you and you wouldn’t need all of them to figure her out, because you know: she loves being so forward, only for her to be held down, give her little to no wiggle room where her hands can leave major damage, the teasing; you’ll shut her mouth up with a pillow to her face or your hand and watch her eyes crunch together until she breaks. There’ll be times when she wants to rush, and you’d go slow, then vice versa. The grip you have on her hip isn’t nice, and you’ll keep kissing her, be very meticulous in the approach, and make her go insane. 

Her muscles, let alone her body tense at the touch, shying a smile away as if she’s afraid to admit it herself. “But I gotta say,” Rosé whispers, her breath canvassing over your lips. “Doesn’t this feel nostalgic? Like old times?” 

And here is where you’re practicing plausible deniability: since she’s right. A brief flash of all the times; all the instances that occurred in the past. She’s got her shirt off, and it helps jog the memory a lot more too - how you’d hold her down and just revel in the whimpering noises that escape her mouth, embracing every acre of her body; it’d be so easy to mold into her, you know from experience. 

“Okay seriously,” Rosé’s saying, the rush of bliss spilling all over her face when your hands trail up and down the sides of her waist. The smile she’s bearing is a whole lot more apparent now the more your mouth is left slack open, eyes ogling without doing a single blink. “I forgot how you like to take your sweet ass time in adoring me - fuck, it’s even worse when you’re not even saying anything, like, at all, I swear to God, please, just-” 

You’re paying no attention as you’re scouting out the different pieces that need peeling away off her figure. The shirt’s already off from the start. You manage to stop your hands from dancing along the waistline of her pants, hold her leg up as you’re pulling from the cuff at the bottom, keep her second-guessing with a few kisses to her stomach, brush your nose along the lace of her panties and scrape a bit of your forehead into the line of her bra. There might be something wrong with you; but hey, she’s on the same boat as well. 

Once all of that’s off and disregarded, you’re claiming long lost territory - marking up everywhere to be examined at the scene of the crime when it’s all done and dusted: her chest, her neck, the collarbones, her nipples already primed to the point, the subtle hint of muscle in the abs, you’re finding a way back. 

Rosé’s breathing is heavy with heat over your ear now, palming her pussy folds now exposed to the open air. “Yes - okay. Okay. I get it- jesus,” she’s stuttering as the reaction starts to traverse throughout her body. Your fingers are dancing along the dangerous area, playing with fire. You can remember the nerves being so responsive, and electric, it’s beautiful to watch in real time. “Look- you win, I’ll help. Whatever you need. I’ll do it.” 

“That so?” you ask. She’s holding herself in place as best she can along with your hand, an acknowledgment, take account of the slick soaking the grooves of your fingers. You kiss her and smile against her lips - teetering on the edge of cruelty and excitement. “Jokes on you sweetheart, I knew you’d always be good for me.” 

The devil is already in the details: pinning her to the wall and burying your fingers into her cunt. She keens when you slip in one finger, then two. Her sighs, singing this harmony that urges this need for it to be silenced; so you get your lips to the line of her collarbone - or, her lips resting right above the cuff of your ear, leg curling to the backside of your thigh, rising to the end of your ass. You let it slide when she pulls you in deeper into her body with her arms, the weight of your front crushing her chest a bit, which she’s okay with. 

“There.” Rosé does a mix of a bob and a shake of her head, “yes, oh-” 

You’re building an idea. One that hasn’t seen the light in your mind ever since the preceding one was ripped apart from you so suddenly. She keeps on gasping as you find the spots - the familiar ones where you’ve killed her before, pressing deeper and deeper into the stretch of that satisfying warmth spreading into your hand. The trembling in her body is already a stark implication of your craft becoming true. A little of a wiggle here, the push of the stretch, opening her wide. Her eyes fixate on yours, and her mouth loosens with each parting breath. 

“Y-you-” 

“There she is,” you murmur, the lower half of your face twisting into a sinister smile. 

All she could do was nod, like she was admitting; almost as if she wanted this. 

“Hold still for me,” you’re instructing, and the tone in the phrase is so gentle that she agrees to the request easily. She’s surrendering herself to you. An unspoken truth in itself. You can see the twinkle behind the rings of her irises, her shoulders drop as a result of all the muscles and bones finally relaxing after being so pent up. Something shifts in you, maybe an act of desperation; a moment where your ego is fractured. It happens when you’re pressing your cheek against hers, whispering into her ear as you put your fingers back into her cunt: “You’ve missed this, so much, haven’t you?” 

Rosé winces. You can feel the clamp in her pussy and jaw. 

Her nose scrunches as well, doing everything she can to not unfold the stricken nerve, so she mouths instead. “Yes. God, yes.” She can’t focus at all when her head hits the back of the wall and you’re leaving your lips into her neck. “I regretted it - so much, so fucking much. Wanted you to forgive me, to come back and-” 

Shit. She got you there. The honesty alone might come as a shock to you. 

“I tried so hard to move on. To forget,” she barely breathes, her voice clearer than ever, like she’s ignoring the fact that you have two curling digits inside that unbelievable cunt of hers, gripping, thighs pressing together into your hand and keeping it there; a makeshift shackle. It didn't take much to push her buttons and rile her up, get her cursing and spilling out incoherent nonsense since she can’t think straight due to the rubbing from the bottom of your palm. “The apology was there, but you were already gone-” 

The more she speaks, the more she sends your common sense down into a spiraling cyclone. Your hand keeps working her leaking slit while the other hikes up her leg - let her carry the weight in holding your body as she’s mindlessly humming against your mouth; even though she’s still trying to speak, that’s fine as it is. Maybe you’re doing yourself a favor jumping face first into this hell, or Rosé herself is just helping you get there faster- 

She knows what she wants. It’s a bit pathetic, a contrast to her condescending attitude that’s been peeling away little by little. Her slick is so smooth around your fingers, twirling and sliding with no care for her responses at all. You could kind of hear her say ‘I'm sorry’. Almost, you’re not entirely sure, but the endless nods and welled-up tears prove that there’s a psychotic factor occurring in your mind. 

“Gonna cum for me?” you ask, and she puts on this faint smile before her head lolls up and back towards the wall. “Your hips are shuddering by the second.” 

Rosé doesn’t say anything except for the staggered breaths from your hand working her and giving no care to fucking with your fingers. She tries to grip onto something; a hand, shoulder, the back of your head - whatever she could try to get her mind to not focus on you. It’s pointless. The precipice and final peak of her high is there in her eyes; locked to your face, focusing and unfocusing. 

She cums. And she looks strikingly astonishing when she finally melts down. 

“Cat got your tongue?” You ask again, expression slightly satisfied as the arms around you hold her down, pinning her. “That’s too bad, ‘cause I was gonna say that you look good like this-” 

Her hips buck forward, pussy gushing a bit more on your fingers, wetting them. “God, y-you- fuck-” 

A pinch of her clit is all you give her and she’s practically not there anymore. 

The cries coming out of her reverberate around the room. Her mouth is still hung open when you relieve some of the pressure of your face on hers, eyes slowly trying to blink through the orgasm as much as possible. The front of her body falls forward, her cunt piping hot - or well, that’s just the final part of the warmth washing over with the need for another outlet to take it all in. 

“Maybe I should just let you have it, huh?” you tell her as you get your hands to her waist and thigh again. “Do you think you deserve my forgiveness after what you did?” 

“Yes, yes.” Rosé answers. You’re finding it hard to be convincing - as if she couldn’t say it any other way when you’re hovering her over to the bed and the nodding starts to become more frantic, desperate. 

When she finally lands back first on the bed, you don’t give her any room to breathe as her body naturally arches when you’re pressing your weight on top of her again. And that’s the venom working its magic through your mind and body; she’s managed to get you craving for more without doing much. 

This is her checkmate to you. She wants you so fucking bad that if you don’t get your dick inside her in the next few minutes, the damage to follow after would honestly be catastrophic. 

In all fairness, you want her. It’s that simple. You’re willing to hold her down and fuck her senselessly, give her no care until she’s a pure puddle of mush. The hand holding you is calculated, precise; palm to the side of her face as she sighs at the touch. Gentle, yes. Her head tracks yours as you admire the winding mess that’ll get worse eventually. 

“I want you to say it,” you tell her, accidentally leaning down to bump your nose with hers. “To be sure. Rosé, I-” 

“Need you-” Her body tenses while her mouth drops to a new low, the sudden shift in her body too much to bear. You manage to wrap yourself around her, sliding slowly; spreading her legs wider until that ache rests on your muscles and hers. The drag of her fingernails on your back keeps your attention on her, zeroing in on the tightness of her waist when you’re adjusting to the right angle and depth, suspending you not to think about anything else besides her. “Like this- oh, yes- right there, fuck it’s so big, holy shit-” 

“Christ,” you hiss; Rosé’s front rises to where your stomach is, squirming until you get a proper hold of her hips at the crease where the top of her legs are, putting her in place. You’re shaking your head here, trying to stay conscious; Rosé’s eyes fall to the back of her head, blinking lethargically. Her cunt’s smoothing out all the ridges and veins, clinging with a melting grip that you’d want to bury yourself in for as long as you’re with her. 

She bites down a cry, and the whines can only be covered so much when she’s eating away at your face, hips snapping up slowly. 

You use the adjustments wisely, watch as her expression carefully unravels right in front of your eyes, until you have a proper hold of her legs where it’ll hurt, pulling her into your cock. The first smack of skin and drive up her spine snaps - like a cable cut, a live wire - the thread of curses and the cauldron of praises fall out so nicely past her lips. She locks her arms around your back, get her pussy in a position where you can take it deep and wreck her like clockwork- 

“Okay, okay. I get it now- jesus girl,” you moan out, the sound partly broken, “You win. I, fuck-” 

So you manage to bury your dick inside her, saying her name and it freaking destroys her. Some of the slaps of skin match your heartbeat from time to time, the pace nice and consistent, kissing to comfort as she swallows down the first wave of sobs.

“Yeah, yeah. You know - you’ve always known,” Rosé groans. “Ugh-” 

“Talking too much,” you mutter right back at her, breath hot and all over the skin of her cheek, pressing, a slight grin forming between your lips. “You don’t sound sorry enough.” 

Her face then matches the same lazy smile, tugged at the corners. You’ve barely made a dent into her and it isn’t enough. The focus is clear; right in her eyes, lidded and glossy. But she flutters her lashes shut, nodding profusely again, when you’ve nudged your cockhead into the spot where you’ve killed her before, another move made. “Yes I- I am. I am, I am, I am.” 

There’s not much to follow up on. The pace is already set. The one-two; slide out and drop the pin right back where it belongs. Rosé pulls you in with her lips, ankles linking to the backside of your thighs, holding her by the middle of her waist. It’s a natural transaction of sorts, the opening of old terms - matching what one wants along the other. 

Maybe you’re returning the favor in a way with her - which you are. Your vision is already becoming hazy, the clamp of her cunt all over your cock the only point of focus and consciousness keeping you sane. Nothing else outside you two mattered at this moment, hidden away within these very walls of the room as Rosé’s hips started to stutter again when you bottomed her out. 

And when she whines, a high pitch rather than a lone note, the part has never been made clearer. 

You remember how you’ve fucked her in this fashion: burying your face into her chest, nails digging into the scalp of your head, holding you so close and tenderly - like she was afraid of losing you again, powering through the second time she cums all over your cock, the mixing of her sobbing and sniffles when you’ve pushed her over that edge once more, urging you to keep sinking into her willingly - even when the precision starts to lose its fine touch. 

Even when her body starts to go limp, you play the nice gesture of raising her legs a little higher, getting her ankles planted right to the small of your back, opening up the deep, melting hollow of heat underneath you. 

“Rosie. Oh, Rosie- my Rosie-” you mumble softly beneath the repeating hymn of your name on her tongue. “My god, you’re fucking crazy.” 

“I want it- want you,” she sighs, palm to your cheek as her eyes lock with yours again. Christ, she knows what the fuck she’s doing, you need to fuck her properly, get your cock embedded right in her cunt where the warmth is at the hottest, filling her up and sliding smoothly along her slick walls to the point where she’ll have to repeat in the request - will you? Please, you fuck me so well - I swear, right there, this pussy’s always been yours, nobody else’s- 

“How I’ve missed this,” you confess. The drag of her fuckhole is that lethal, and reverts you to old ways. The regret will cross your mind again soon, you’re sure of it. 

“Cum baby.” She tells you, basically letting you do so. The velvety walls are just too much for you to handle. You could feel the coil tighten in your abdomen, the grip of her legs in your hands now leaving their red marks across her pale skin, cock hitting the same spot of her cunt over and over, relentlessly pounding and grinding her lower half into a mere puddle. “I want you to cum.” 

The air within you gets sucked right out of your lungs, boiled over to a stream of strained groans and heavy exhales - two more strokes inside her creaming cunt before you grasp on the last bit of energy to tug yourself out, painting all over the fine plane of Rosé’s waist, pumping your load out. A hand gets planted to the side, holding you upright, her voice also in its high octave, begging and speaking in tongues as the ribbons of white find their place across the blush ambered skin. 

“Fuck- holy fuck,” she sighs again, eyelids lifting up as you hobble over from the sudden blood loss from your head, bumping into hers as you tap the numb of her clit with your tip once, twice, the loose sobs sounding heavenly, pulling you back to your senses. “Oh god - it feels so good all over me. Yes.Yes. It’s so good, keep teasing my pussy like that, I know you love it, shit-” 

Even after getting her brains properly fucked out, the slurs of her words spilling out are still coherent. You take a moment to breathe, calm down the irregular heart rate as best you can, and watch as Rosé takes a fingertip to her stomach and collects some of the mess left by you. She’s so shameless, tattered, reaping the reward in all of its glory. 

“Satisfied?” You ask, rubbing her lip. Her blush is amazing to look at, a slut like her owning the part as if she’s meant for it. It’s true. The afterglow makes her ten thousand times more alluring than how she was back at the cafe when she planted the idea of those dirty thoughts slowly formulating in the back of your mind. All you have to do is just look at her- 

It’s easy to read and take a step back; because giving her more would be a guarantee on the cards. Her palm lands on the left side of your chest, feeling your heartbeat. You indulge in pulling a wisp of her hair off from her forehead, those doe eyes looking up at you while she treats herself by licking up your load off her fingers. 

She hums. It’s only the two of you. Everything you or her ever needed is trapped in this space. 

Rosé teases with the tip of her tongue, showing the evidence being down into the space of her mouth - in her throat, seeing her neck bob up while her head tilts to this sultry gaze, a damming smile forming again, hinted with a small peek of her teeth. She then manages to get a hand around your length - fingers still soaked with your cum, languidly pumping without care - since the reaction could be substituted as a reflex. “I think you have more to offer for me.” 

“God, Rosé-” you say, and she just laughs; the sound alone is impossible to ignore, but her snark, the words and things she tells you from time to time - it alters your brain chemistry. She’s always been like this. 

“What? Am I wrong?” She asks, ghosting your upper profile to give you the hint that she needs some breathing room, rolling herself over where her back is now in view, and not to mention her fucking ass- 

“No, you’re not,” you answer, hovering over the nape of her neck, pressing a few kisses down the curve. “If anything, you’re doing a terrific job of keeping my mind off of certain things.” 

Her knees dig into the mattress, lifting her backside to the front of your hips, her slick still there, smothering the top of your length. You hold her down from the shoulders and slide your knees up to the proper placement. She’s giving an offer, alright - one that you simply cannot refuse. 

“Good.” Rosé chuckles, breathing low as you’re grazing the head of your cock over the pucker of her ass, teasing it around her folds. “I hope I can keep up the work for you. Make you not worry about any other thing besides me. God that would be amazing. Can you? For me?” 

“Make me fuck your brains out as my only worry,” you concur. “Doesn’t sound that bad to do again.” Her head dips down into the sheets when you’ve got your cock slowly working its way back into her creaming pussy, hips becoming flush with yours, relishing in the perfect fit - the gorgeous press of those walls, it does something to a man. 

You’re imagining the widest smile on her face, knowing that she’s won you back. It doesn’t make sense yet, the bits and pieces of your mind not lining up with the actions. Rosé’s yelp gets muffled, in response to the press of her lower half into the mattress, hands pressing both asscheeks together, tightening the noose around your length, letting the drag make your cock throb even harder. 

“I’ve fucking missed this,” she rasps, the last exhale shoved out of her once you’ve managed to nudge your cock back inside her. The latter of everything is this: the steady breaths, the audible slide of slick, and the slap of skin. 

A hand reaches out to her hair, holding her head down to the mattress along with the rest of her body, arm slithered to the underside where the waist is, a placeholder as your hips snap forward. The whimper she lets out is a clear implication that your bag of tricks is doing a number on her. 

“Taking me so well. God, Rosie. This pussy is amazing. Look at you,” you praise, growling as she continues to babble beneath your touch. 

And the innocent giggles can hide so much of the absolute pleasure she’s enjoying. She’s a real-life venus fly trap: pulling you in with her smile, her eyes, and her charisma; only for you to be wrapped around her little finger and quite literally, her leg. “How cute. You were full of shit not that long ago. For a second I figured you’d be having second thoughts.” 

You smack her ass and grab both sides of cheeks on her face. A statement. A warning. 

“Watch your mouth,” you grit, and you swear that you’ll stay true to your word. 

“Alright, just- ah, fuck me, like that. Your cock hit that same- hngh! Please, just fuck me like you mean it. Rail my ass until I’m on my knees apologizing. I promise, just dick me down-’ 

The pace picks up and you’ve lost all remorse. You’ll bounce her cunt on your cock regardless if she’s asking for it or not. In the present case that she is, giving it to her was an easy decision. Her pussy is the missing piece of a puzzle that you always wanted to complete anew, and it’s right in your hands and on your hips. 

Rosé’s face twists over her shoulder, eyes fluttering in unadulterated pleasure, tensing and unraveling each passing stroke you have on her. The secret’s already out: you missed her, and she missed you. You’ll have the desire to take this moment away and put it in a chest, only for it to be tossed to the bottom of the sea, where no one else will know of its existence. 

“Have me over and over,” she says, “if that’s all you ever wanted, I’d let you.” 

You weren’t sure what you were getting yourself into, and when you’ve made her cum the second time, and third soon after - she’s a sobbing mess, voice wrecked, you’re also there with her, she’s got you by that much. 

–

The first snowfall meets the cloudy skies when the light peeks through the drapery. Or at least when your vision is coming around while Rosé’s posture straightens when she sits up - clutching the comforter from the bed close to her body as she looks over her shoulder to you. Her friz of bed hair is apparent at the ends, not to mention her bare back, the first hint of red marks at the bottom of her neck - you’re drawing the assessment up as you go. 

“Cold?” you ask, leaning your head back into the pillow behind. “That’s a shame.” 

“Says the one who doesn’t have anything on along with me,” Rosé chuckles, swirling around facing you. You’ll be left there to just observe and stare more times than you can probably count on your own ten fingers. 

Then she lets the blanket fall; her version of a curtain raiser. 

It isn’t anything new really, but you catch yourself blinking a lot faster than usual; the blotches of red spread across her chest, mixed with the paleness of her skin. Her waist emulates this hourglass shape that almost looks unreal for one to have; there’s also neck and collarbones, and you’re looking everywhere from her face to her hips - lustful would be an understatement of her efforts. 

“You could give me one of your hoodies again,” she’s saying, sliding her hands into the crease beneath her shoulders, looking down to the crimson marks. 

“Tempting.” 

She tilts her head the other way, a soft hum reflected off her smile. The rosy blush is a highlight; the reruns of all the moments with her keep coming back, and you’re certainly here for all of them. “You can’t turn me down.” 

“And if I did, it would be a tragedy,” you say, pulling her into your embrace as she spins around again, her hand scratching the side of your head, nose buried into the curve of her neck, “thankfully, that won’t happen with you.” 

“Let’s go exploring the city today,” Rosé proposes, back arching to the adjustment of your hold. “I can put in a reservation for that one restaurant with the fancy snails and seafood.” 

“Isn’t that like-” you snort, “eighty percent of the restaurants around here anyway?” 

“Only if you’re not looking deep enough.” 

“Your call,” you agree, turning your head to put a proper kiss, tasting the sweetness of cherry or strawberries. Her fingers trail across your forearms while yours are grazing her waist, her breasts - you’re one for physical touch, a little too much for your liking but in this case is it justified? Absolutely. Who wouldn’t? “I can carry you to the shower if you’d like.” 

Rosé’s eyes close, fluttering. Lips pulled inward to a smirk. She’s enthralled with the notion - the affinity of how you treated her before. “Mmmmm. I think: yes please.” 

–

(So you do carry her. Frankly, your fingers digging into the plush skin of her ass, sinking her back onto your cock; palms holding the tile, then slipping - her back to the wall as her feet dangle past your backside. Rosé’s moaning into the shell of your ear one second, kissing you the next - like the world would end at any given moment, hands pressing your face deeper into hers in the wash of rain above, encouraging you to give in. 

She was doing whatever it took to creep herself back into the nook of your mind, and so far it’s working; rewriting your nerves and synapses, corralling with her tongue and lips in all the ways that swept off your feet before, her grin against your chin all the easier to bite down and swallow. “You swear not to tell anyone about this, promise me.” The only telltale point of accountability laid out on the table, in the space opened between your lips and hers - a brief pause, stalled negotiations, ending with an everlasting proposition that you’ll submit to when she finally says: 

“Not a soul. Promise.”)

–

You’re shrugging your shoulders up to your ears, hoping to keep in some of the heat trapped in your body. An instinct; and with the right amount of layers of fabrics, it makes the job a whole lot easier to do. Simple as that. 

Rosé eventually did manage to steal one of your hoodies from your luggage. Not that you were complaining about it. As much as you hate to admit it, the girl did have a knack for styling different articles effortlessly to the point where you can’t even tell if she’s wearing your clothes or her own. She’s got a red scarf for today’s outing, properly complimenting the other shades below while she’s fixing her appearance in the mirror of the restaurant, patting down her hair with you coming right behind to transfer some of the warmth onto her. 

You’re getting a few whiffs of her perfume. Cinnamon and something rustic, cozy, and she just gives you a beaming smile off the reflection in front of you. Her hand goes into the pocket of her overcoat: a small digicam, turns it on and points it to the mirror - telling you to act candid or cute, whichever one happens to come first. The pull of your arms brings her closer to you, a familiar movement and rhythm when you leaned over earlier while getting ready, talking all sly and prettily as she creams all over your cock. She’s thinking about it also, even while the camera clicks. 

“Would you look at that,” she exclaims, capturing the photo as a personal keepsake, and showing you the photo on the screen soon after. “We look good in this for once.” 

Rosé notices your whole body freeze, rolling your eyes, “Uh, was that supposed to be an insult?” 

Her face shifts to a quick scowl, taken aback by the question suddenly. “Why? Would you rather have me tell you that you’re fucking ugly instead?” 

“Not true. But, hah. That does sound a lot more like you.” 

Your gaze goes back to the glass, and Rosé takes another funny photo for the memories, looking over to the corner of your eyes as the snaps from the camera continue for a few seconds. “How’s my jacket?” 

She pulls the hood to her nostrils, eyelids snapped shut, and inhales. The grin she has all over her face proves to be a clear indicator that the signs are all pointing towards positive. Her figure is still in reach of you, her front opposite to yours. “Comfy, for one,” she then looks up to your chin, syrup eyes looking up with a gentle gaze. “It’s a distinct smell. A one-of-one.” 

“Corny.” 

“And?” 

“Pretty,” is what you end off with, petting her hair which earns you a nose scrunch. “Want me to add on?” 

“You could tell me that I’m special, your angel, or something. Maybe say that I look good, y’know - to boost my ego. You being my one and only, the dream guy I’ve wanted for as long as I liv-” 

“Don’t push your luck,” you’re grinning, because she’s planting the idea so well, the keywords and points of inference to decode and analyze. She’ll inflate your ego so much that you’d have to hold her down in your hands and fuck some proper sense into her - ‘cause it’ll happen again -  probably because she deserves it, which is true. 

–

Later, and by her arm linked to yours, Rosé pulls you into this music club. A jazz bar, or- just a place where they were having an open mic night, the songs having the earworm effect to the point where your feet are following hers. 

The place opens up inside where the seating arrangements are segregated in pairs in the middle from the stage and outwards with the usual booths set at the sides. Some people are sitting, others are dancing, and then there are a few who are just casually conversing and really having a great time. But the wave of nostalgia is hitting a little harder than usual as they’re all riding along with the music. 

“This place is nice,” she tells you, gently bobbing her head along to the cozy ambiance of the band playing on the stage, tugging the cuff of your sleeve towards some open seats to rest your legs and take a breather. 

When you do finally settle your bearings, the seat under you becomes a lot more comfier, taking in the sights and sounds of the live music being performed right in front of you. It wasn’t that long also for the drinks to come flowing in; only this time, you’re more in line with your inhibitions and common sense all because there isn’t any impending stress plaguing your mind. 

Once the setlist’s been played through, the main lead of the band calls out to the audience for anyone who would be interested in singing on the open floor. Pretty straightforward: just name the song for the band members to play and give them a few minutes to get adjusted to the demands of the piece; gotta say, they’re pretty good at what they do. 

“I’m gonna go up there.” Rosé snatches your attention with her spontaneous plan. “It’s been a while since I sang in front of anyone” 

You chuckle, because you remember how she was back in the high school choir years ago. “You’re serious?” The question comes off as rhetorical alone, but you sense that burning passion inside her that fuels everything in her enthusiasm. “By all means, go for it.” 

“Got a song in mind?” She asks, hand resting on your forearm. 

“Don’t have anything in particular,” you answer with a shake of your head. “Surprise me.” 

With that, Rosé shoots her hand up high into the air. The band leader spots her out instantly and calls her up to the stage. Everyone’s eyes are drawn towards her - a mix of applause and whistles to solidify the encouragement, and here you are stuck in your seat hoping that nothing goes wrong while she’s up on stage. You have faith, and it’s just enough to stick by. 

Her introduction is cute to watch; the way that she sounds sends your heart flipping for a millisecond: “Hi my name is Rosé. I’m not from here, but I’m super excited to perform for you guys tonight and I hope that you guys enjoy it. Thank you.” 

You’d have to admit, she does look good when the lights are all on her. 

She picks two oldies that you remember vividly because of your parent's music taste, and the final song catches you off guard, because of the way that she presented it- 

“I’d just like to dedicate this last song to the number one that I hold most dear to in my heart. So if you’re listening to this, wherever you are, I hope you know that I will always root for you - even from afar.” 

-being a classic Bruno Mars song since that’s been one of the few artists she’s been playing on repeat for the entirety of the trip. Her head moves and tilts in alternating directions, really just feeling out the music. 

Once the final chords of the song get played out, the club erupts with a mix of cheers and claps, congratulating her for providing a wonderful show. The gratitude comes out naturally and she gives her thanks, occasionally landing her gaze over to you before looking elsewhere. She realizes the yearning, like how she sensed it while examining the art pieces up close as you were a few steps away. 

It really gets you thinking, just how much you’ve fallen deeper back into the abyss with her. 

–

At some point, you realize that you aren’t getting enough sleep as you’d like. 

And no, it’s not because of the exhaustion of burying your cock deep into Rosé’s cunt, the slide of her folds becoming a relapse of an addiction long locked away. The lines become blurred between right and wrong, considering the incessant begging she keeps putting towards you where you give her exactly what she wants. 

She’s laid on top of you, skin touching skin. You make do by clinging onto her small body since she likes that. 

Rosé looks up, palm to your cheek, thumb canvasing the surface. She leans down for a peck - you lean up to meet her in the middle. Everything about this feels safe; your heart’s beating with a rise in tempo, every move of her hand and head an electric current across your body, the quick blitzes of craving for one another, pulling her close, wrapping her in your clothes, blowing air in the sensitive spots that get her going, whimpering. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: the ex.” She says to you, both hands now to the sides of your face, holding you like an award - a trophy. 

“First of all, ouch.” 

“Don’t take it to heart since you dicked me down not too long ago.” Her face turns over, listening to your heartbeat, legs tangling underneath the sheets. “It sounded a whole lot better in my head, so I thought why not say it out loud,” her tone filled with relief. “I’ve always spoken from my mind anyway, so how is this any different?” 

“That’s-” 

“I’m kidding,” Rosé laughs, “well- partly. I didn’t mean to hurt you again if that’s what you wanted to hear,” in a way she’s right; what also doesn’t help is her hand slithering down your front, to your hips, fingers coiling your length in record time. 

You gasp, tensing up all the muscles in your body. “Fuc- Rosie-” 

“These thoughts that I have, they’re the worst,” she’s telling this like some gospel - a fabled story or prophecy from an oracle, twisting and jerking your hardening shaft while sharing the madness of her hippocampus. “Well? What are you gonna do about it?” 

When she slides you right back into her volcanic heat, your mouth drops. “I think we can figure that out together.” 

She sighs, pressing her lips against your cheek, grinning. Her lower half has a mind of its own: grinding down and settling, where she stays. 

–

You make love with her again. And she screams; it could be heard far and wide past the walls. A guarantee, you said. A promise. It's only you and her, after all.

–

There are multiple ways for one to sign off on their death sentence: a contract, a hearing, a proclamation; where one’s resolve is pushed to the brink where everything that transpires after has to be seen to the end until the lingering thoughts and repercussions are nothing more than just a distant memory. You knew what you signed up for when this trip had its inception, what’s to come when you’re put face first with someone who was supposed to be part of the last chapter in your story. Things like these can be rewritten on a new page for starters, but still keep all the details intact. 

Rosé could be your judge, jury, and executioner for all you know - and still be the one to lure you into the dangerous pits of temptation. 

“Holy shit,” you grit, voice tattered; Rosé’s head dips down as she plants both of her hands on your waist, and adjusts her legs until her heels are rooted into the mattress, testing the angle with an unprompted thrust by you. 

“Don’t move too much,” she commands, the slide of your cock in her pussy slow enough to make you want to rush into it. “I’ll ride you like this. You don’t even have to do a thing.”

“God-” and the giggle she lets out in tandem with her devilish grin serves to be too much for you to bear. A lift up in her squatting position, and her petite ass slams on top of your balls - the deadly pin drop. “Fuck- you’re so good at that.” 

A rise and fall. A one-two in stopping and gyrating. She’s riding you so delicately - in contrast to your style of holding her close to your chest and impaling her upwards. You feel the edge of her palm at your chin - to your bottom lip - and you bite down gently into her hand. 

“I wanna feel it - all inside me,” she’s telling you, a phrase projected into existence, a claim. “Want your cum,” her confidence brightens so much when she’s the one in control, “so fucking bad.” She slides her feet out from under her, grinding harder against your hips, laying her body flat against yours, raising her ass again and back down; the angle is much more deeper than you anticipated. “Using this pretty cunt all for you. I know you like it.” 

“For fuck’s sake,” you growl, and it’s a swear in itself, “can’t get enough of you - this pussy is a dream.” 

“Uh huh,” her face crinkles when she ups the pace. “Tell me all about it. I’ll be your good little girl for you, babe.” This role isn’t her forte, but if the opportunity presents itself, she’ll own the part with flying colors. You could hear and feel the slick spread up to your waist; every gush, smack, and dragged-out moan was all part of a symphony created by you two. She effortlessly bottoms your cock out, and she whines. 

Your arms slither around her back, keeping her in place. She whispers a ‘yes’ in your ears, and licks your temple. 

“Grab me, fuck me. Make me yours,” she murmurs, happily kissing along your cheek as you spread yourself wider, getting the proper measurements right to ruin her. 

The rest of the world fades out as Rosé’s breathing fills up your brain. “Rosé- I’m gonna- fuck-” 

“Oh god- Yes! Baby, I’m close- keep going-” 

When you inevitably cum inside her - filling her up, you’re coaxing through her sobs. Driving your shaft deep where each exhale is a staccato. Your lips find her neck, marking up skin, drinking in the sweat, fucking through her orgasm to the point where she’s pliant and quivering - tiredly nodding in approval and satisfied. 

–

You’re no diplomat, but the advisable action of keeping your phone on do not disturb, limiting contact with anyone other than Rosé was entirely justified. 

(By common sense, how could anyone keep in touch with their significant other after the heinous acts that they’ve committed? Our lives are not defined by any one action, but rather the sum of our choices. Everyone has their reasons - more or less - and sometimes, some don’t even need a reason at all.) 

The messages do pile on throughout the week. Various texts at different times, all on different days. Each one is more desensitizing than the last. 

jen: can you please call me? 

jen: i’ll explain everything 

jen: i’m worried sick 

jen: pls just come home

You’ll deal with clearing out the notification bubbles sometime later when the time is right. 

Rosé’s in the bathroom, door open to slip some of the excess steam out, towel to her bust. Most of the water is soaked into the cloth; her hair is half dry - half damp, combing a little at the ends with a brush, leaning on the door frame. “You think you can help me with something real quick?”

“Hm? And what would that be?” you ask, slipping on a shirt. 

She’s in the middle of the walkway now. 

“Just need some attention in a few spots,” Rosé says, very nonchalantly. Pulls apart the towel from the two folds, lets it pool at her feet. Her being naked isn’t enough to sway you into pushing her back into the shower and well- yeah. She knows it’s gonna take a lot more than just that. “Preferably the ones where you didn’t touch earlier, to be more specific.” 

“Could’ve said you wanted more,” you laugh. “Didn’t have to sugarcoat it.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Rosé asks, deadpanning. She sways her body where her bare ass is now in view, hips moving side to side on the balls of her feet, looking over her shoulder to solidify the image. “We got a little more time on our hands and besides, it’s Christmas Eve.” 

You’re back following her in a heartbeat. 

–

You may be sloppy and shameless, but you are also very intricate in how you approach things. It’s in how your mouth moves: precise, calculated - licking down her slutty little waist, to her clit, getting everything you’ve ever needed between those glorious thighs of hers. 

On your knees like you’re in reverence, you’re worshiping Rosé’s pussy; hoping that she could give you the blessing of eating her out like it’s your one-way ticket to heaven. The insides of her thighs press inward, her fingers in your hair pulling you exactly where she wants. 

Rosé almost slides off the bathroom counter when she finally cums. She’s yelling her heart out, hissing through her teeth. Neither of you are thinking about the possible noise complaint that you’ll get for the sixth time this week. 

“Fuck, yes,” she huffs, pressing your head harder with her legs. “Yes- yes, just that.” 

You raise yourself and give your fingers the fill, nipple between your teeth while the knuckle curls inside- 

She grasps at your neck - like you’re going off to war and she’s bagging on the chance she’ll never see you again, “Baby, I can’t say this enough,” she rasps, whining a high pitch when you hit her favorite spot, “I literally need you to ruin me,” and you nod, because you will. 

Doesn’t take that long for her to cum again soon after, figuratively off the cliff face first. Her body goes limp, eyes glossy, panting as if she’s dehydrated. She keeps her legs closed, your hand caught in the crossfire, hoping that you’ll stay once the sun shines after the storm. 

Once the clouds of lust finally pass the both of you: 

“Good use of our time actually, what do you think?” 

Rosé looks up to you, hand on her cheek, wiping the dry stream of tears. 

“We can still go,” she sighs. “I just need a few more minutes because, fuck, can’t think straight when you’re staring at me while I’m like this.” 

“Saying that I went too far?” 

“No- but,” her groan makes you chuckle, “that’s not it. It never is, I-” 

“I?” you carry on with the overhanging thought. 

“I know that you have different sides, but this- this one is just- I don’t know, to me, it just feels right.” 

She manages to get herself up from the edge of the bed, legs a bit wobbly but manageable. You’re patting down her overcoat and adjusting the scarf around her neck, cupping her face. Her hands find yours stacked on top. 

“Not letting me go, hm?” Rosé asks, humming. “That’s not very kind.”

“Want me to carry you? ‘Cause I can most definitely do that, if it makes it easier,” and it comes off so casually. You’ll stay true to your good intentions, worrying about the punishment for the crime later. 

Rosé nods, and looks down, kissing the crown of her head. She’s entrapped with this spell of desire, unsure of who got it first. It’s boundless, even when you’re hugging her. Boundless, and you’ve concluded that it’ll stay. 

–

(The muddled wet-suck of her cunt. The grip. Her listless sighs and whimpers of praise plague your brain. You're having your fill; filling her up with your cock like old times. Like it's meant to be.

You fuck her again, and all it takes is one look, and she knows. It's plastered in those rosy pink cheeks at that lip bite that makes you crave her more - it's maddening.

An untethered devotion: you could give her everything she ever wanted.

If it takes the space left open in her heart, you'd pledge yourself to get her back without a second thought.)

–

The time’s ticking; the sands in the hourglass are almost at the bottom. Part of you is torn between finally getting this trip over with and stirred that you and Rosé will probably never see each other again in the coming days. Aside from the rough, raw sex, you also realize that it’s been pretty refreshing to reconnect with the girl that you shared a good third of your life with and fall into old habits as if nothing had ever happened between you two. 

You’re starting to reminisce on how it had all gone wrong. 

Rosé, without a care in the world, stares up into the deep blue sky. The Eiffel Tower still has some guests visiting, sightseeing, and enjoying the present company that they have. You have your phone in your hands, taking pictures of everything within distance. Each click that’s pressed is a reminder of what little you will have to cling to once this fever dream is all done and dusted. 

She’s a bit out of arm's reach from you, enjoying the brisk weather and the overall ambiance that’s happening with the people around her. Her digicam in one hand, phone in the other. At some point she’s recording a guy that’s playing with his accordion, going down his list of Christmas carols, happily nodding along to the joyous tunes. She keeps on snapping photos wherever she happens to see or notice first. Canvassing the area, like a lighthouse with her phone in hand- 

Until her camera finally lands on you. She’s snapping a photo of you. You’re snapping a photo of her. 

(It’s a gunshot without the smoke. Yours and her version of Halley's comet flying over you. The realization settles in: you both fucked up.) 

You stand there motionless - phone lowered and you just look at Rosé. She does the same. Time halts to a standstill as the both of you just admire one another. Your expression is stoic while her’s is filled with an expression that’s told by her glossy eyes and uneven breathing. 

She moves without fail, running towards you; before you know it, she’s jumping in your arms, clinging onto you so hard that it’s nearly suffocating. Her sniffles are a lot louder now, and you start rubbing the back of her head in the same motion that you know brings her comfort. 

“Hey-” Rosé stutters, burying her face into your collarbone. “I- I just, God, I’m such an idiot-” 

“There’s no need for that,” you whisper, “I know. I know.” 

Like always, Rosé’s face is in your hands yet again; wiping away the tears and cradling her as if nothing else had mattered. You chuckle at the sobs she lets out, and she hits your arm. “Can we-” you’re rubbing her head still to help gather her thoughts, “can we go back to the hotel now? I think we’re good for today.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll do that. Okay. Let’s go back.” 

–

(Midway on the walk back, you decide to bet it all on the line. If it doesn’t happen now, the chances of it happening later become less likely.

“I need to stop by somewhere for a sec,” you’re telling Rosé with a sudden clutch of her hand to stop her. “Wanted to surprise you with a gift.” 

Rosé furrows her brows together, but shakes her head, smiling. “Promise you’ll meet me back at the hotel?” 

“Won’t be long, I promise.” You reassure, kissing her and her hand soon after.) 

–

You’ve never been so fast to come back to someone in your life, bouquet of roses in hand like those tv melodramas that always milks the simple moment for absolutely no reason. This might feel like one of those moments, all honesty considered, but who’s really to judge when you’re preparing for the inevitable. 

The keycard slots itself in, followed by the click of the lock once closed. You notice that the lights were already dimmed - the actual preference you and Rosé agreed on after the first night, the only difference was the trail of undergarments leading to the open area of the room. 

And that’s when you see her. 

She’s knelt on the bed, a singular rose in her hands. Her outfit is uncovered by the layers of pants, hoodie, and scarf - revealing a lingerie set on her that you’ve never seen before, painted in scarlet red. It highlights her natural complexion, not to mention her hair - she’s the literal image of your long-lost wet dreams come to life. 

“Like what you see?” Rosé asks, staring while you remain motionless. 

You drop the bouquet in your hand, not for dramatic effect of course, but in utter shock at how well the fabrics meld onto her clad body. 

She takes the hint, moving herself closer to you, on the edge of the bed while your hands ghost her figure - unsure of where to even begin. 

“I’ve said this countless times before,” you say, heart rate spiking when her palms land on your chest, “but you look amazingly good in that.” 

Her hand pulls you by the neck, and gives you a quick kiss after that. “Why thank you,” says Rosé, lip caught to her teeth when your hands slide across the lower plane of her back, resting above her ass. “I had a few other options in mind, but I always knew that your favorite color was red.” 

“Aw. So thoughtful.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“I will.” 

Rosé laughs at that. Aside from the figurative meaning, she’s aware that you can back that up. 

“Do you know why? Why I broke up with you then?” Rosé asks, face shifting to a wistful gaze. Your body freezes at the sudden question, wide eyes locked with hers as open as they can be. She twirls the rose in her fingers for a few seconds, places it at your middle, finding her words. 

“Still can’t put all of that together, you know.” You’re telling her. 

“We were young back then. We still are.” She confesses, palm to your chin as you’re doing the same. “I thought that you didn’t care how we were - like you didn’t love me anymore. Even at first now, you were such a fucking dick-” 

“Ros-” 

“Shut up, let me finish. It made me realize at that moment where I- I tho-” her words are becoming more and more shaky, you can tell in the irregular breathing, “I thought you fell out of love with me.” 

The harsh sting of truth still hurts when you’re thinking back on it for a second. It wasn’t a one person show, however, but you contributed to most of the downfall of the relationship in the past. You’ll own up to the mistakes somehow, someway; if you had the chance, you’d do it without a second thought. 

“It made me realize, this whole trip, I saw the old you,” Rosé confesses, keeping her emotions at bay as best she can, “Like how did you know that I’ve wanted a dream trip to Paris for the longest time? How long did you work on this before we- oh, right.” 

You’re laughing a bit here. Could be the psyche of trying to not come to terms with the feelings. “Use your words, it’s okay.” 

“You treated me so well this past week, putting up with my shenanigans and such, forcing you to walk wherever I go but I’m just- fuck. It fucking sucks with how we are now.” 

“I’m still hurt too,” you admit, wiping a tear off of Rosé’s cheek. “I hoped that us being here would give us some closure - which is working, but I also hope that we can still be happy as friends once all of this is over.” 

Rosé nods, sniffling. “Won’t be easy, but we can try.” 

You seal your lips with hers, finally breaking the dam of longing that you’ve been holding back until now. Her mouth burns a hum down her throat, hands weaving across your shoulders, the passion instantly infectious. 

She pulls away with a heavy sigh, “Prove it.” The words match her eyes of determination and urging. “Make love to me.” 

You’re not far from her, and you’ll follow no matter what. 

Her face is hot: scorching and engulfing at the same time. She’s quick to slip you off of your jacket - your hands fiddling with the lace decorated all over her body, pulling on your bottom lip, giving you no chance to regroup and re-hit the areas that you want to take; she’s prioritizing in keeping you close, unwilling to loosen her arms once the grips have been set. 

The fingers find the small latch of her bra, feeling her chest rise in your other hand. 

She’s peeled you off of your shirt, claiming scratches on your skin. 

You’ve got an angel within your reach - from the echelons of heaven and earth above. She’s gracing her presence onto you to the point where you will do anything to prove your devotion to her, hoping that she’ll grant you your deepest wishes - and make you forget about your darkest regrets. 

Rosé’s so responsive and you love it. Her octave goes up a key when you’re fondling along lone breast; dividing and conquering in two places at once with your other hand palming the dampness of her panties. She pulls you onto the bed, a lasso of truth that you’ll always submit to. Whispering sweet nothings, begging you to keep going; telling you more, more, and more. 

Your eyes, no matter how many times you’ve dozed off into the distance, have always landed back on Rosé in some way or form. Amidst everything, you’re magnetized to the way her eyes looked now: dangerous, wanting, hooded - as if the shades of lust have completely taken over her thoughts and with her as the vessel to carry all of those bad deeds out, as if you were the only one who could control this growing feeling. 

When she finally settles on the pillows, the heat’s already become too infectious, her face flushed and lips generally parted, waiting for your return. You go for her neck, and her body tenses, back arching and heels sliding up the sheets, unsure of where to rest as you’re catering to her lovely neck. 

“How bad do we want this?” you start, fingertip to your lip before wetting it. “You up for it?” 

Rosé bites her lips as always and nods. “Fuck,” she gasps, taken off guard by your lips to her collarbone again. “I want it.” 

A press deep into the slick center of her panties only solidifies what she’s implying. 

Her hands work with yours, sliding her out of the last piece like clockwork, her tongue clashing against yours as she shuffles herself up against the headboard, but you lean down to keep her in place. The sooner you pin her down to reach her soft spots, the more likely she’ll break within minutes - it’s all part of the plan. 

Giving her a heads up wasn’t an option, and that’s proven so when your fingers slide up against her slick folds, getting a feel for what’s to come when you eventually push inside and spread her open, teasing by dipping no more than your fingernail into her cunt, rubbing her clit to up the sensitivity. 

“You fucking tease, I know- ah-” she spits, squirming at your touch, the friction becoming a necessity. Her inner thighs press together, holding your hand hostage. That only prompts you to traverse your fingers deeper into her pussy, and she moans. “R-right there.” 

She doesn’t know what to do with her hands, or her legs, let alone her entire body in this state. The pleasure is too much to bear, and the snowball effect keeps on building. You kiss her again to keep her mind off the finger fucking you’re doing to her; she digs her nails into your forearm, pulling you by the neck to deepen the lip lock. As much as you’d love to eat her out into the night, the way that she is right now is just enough for your satisfaction. 

“God, yes- fuck-” 

You know that she’s almost there; all it takes is a little push. She’s grinding her hips against your hand, the three digits inside her too much to handle. Each whimper and moan and sigh she lets out is nearly bittersweet to hear and witness - pitiful that she got herself like this for you, and there’s nothing that she can do about it. 

“Gonna make you cum so much,” you say huskily, pressing your forehead against hers as you feel her eyebrows mesh and rise, unsure of what to focus on. But you know exactly what it is, and it’s that euphoric rush that she won’t admit to having a craving for. “Can you do that for me? Be my good little girl and do as I say?” 

Her bobbing goes frantic; she doesn’t care either way, it’s happening regardless. 

“These fucking fingers,” Rosé grits, her first words that aren’t an ‘mmm’ or ‘ah’ or ‘hah’ in a while. “Baby, baby, holy shit, you’re fucking me so well with your hand, I’m so close- shit, I’m so fucking close.” 

“Yeah? Let go, Rosie. I want to see you cum for me.” She pulls you in to keep her mind off of your hand, hips bucking at an insane rate. You could feel the shake in her thighs, sliding in and out of her cunt - the press of your thumb on her clit an additional point of pressure. Her eyes open and close, lazily matching the pace of your fingers and steadying. 

All it takes is one more slide; one more press, and she’s fucking gone. 

The sight is the holy land you’ve managed to see time and time again: watching her cum on your fingers. It’s in the rosy blush spread on her face, and you’re pretty sure that she’s squirted a bit onto your arm, but you bear no mind to that. 

“There we go, would you just- look?” You’re enamored, amazed. Your Rosé is so pliant and willing to let you have control so easily that it shouldn’t be this straightforward to do. 

“God, the fucking mess. Rosé-” 

And the sigh is just heavenly. 

She’s shaking her head in disbelief. Your fingers are still inside her, hauling past the edge of her orgasm that she can’t do anything about it. 

You eventually give her a minute or two to breathe. Because she deserves it. 

Unfortunately: one thing was never going to be enough for someone like Rosé. 

Because she’s the kind of person who will always want to see things to the end. Usually, there’s a pause, a breather, probably the overhanging thought of what you’ve done to her again for the thousandth possible time on this trip - in these four walls - a glass of water would also suffice, or a bathroom break, but not tonight. 

Rosé’s fingers are fast around the button of your pants, and you get the hint right away. You can easily tell from the glint in her eyes that if you don’t take her cunt and fuck her apart the way that she wants, there’s certainly going to be irreversible damage. This is all you are doing. It’s the match of madness that you don’t want to admit but accept wholeheartedly. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re insane?” You ask, hand coiling her waist, pulling her close, thumb at the edge of her belly button. 

“Hmm, I think someone has, but I might need a refresher of sorts,” Rosé replies, a sultry smile as she watches you lick up her mess spread across your digits. “Add that to the number of things you’re willing to fix.” 

“Who said anything about fixing?” You dart back, reining her in by the waist, listen close to the stack of laughs, break down with every rumple and fold you do to her arms and legs. 

She glances at your throbbing cock waiting at her entrance, slipping the tip right in as a test, the rest to follow along until the noises coming out of her are broken, relieved. 

“Okay,” she’s saying, shimmying down your length, and raising her hips. “Impress me.” 

So, you get one thrust in for good measure, her hands braced around your back and legs finding a foothold around your hips. “How’s that so far?” 

Rosé’s fucking arch. Her pussy grips around you like a fist - hot and tight. She looks up and then at you, softer, prettier, and you’re beginning to wonder if it was ever worth getting stranded with her for a week and not ending up like this. It’s in the sound, the feeling; fucking her in this fashion: sliding yourself in and out of her so nicely. Clinging. Dragging. Every night after the first has always been like this. And the things she says: 

“Bet that feels good, right?” Pulling you from the back of your head, leaning down. “Just keep- keep, fuck, baby, like that. Holy shit, I fucking can’t-” 

Here she goes again: the praising. She’s scratching your scalp, patting your back. Nails down your spine. The tempo has her gasping in a sweet tone. “Have you like this and fuck, goddamit,” you sigh, and she looks at you like she knows what the fuck you’re talking about. 

You snap into her hips a little harder the next stroke. Pounding deep in her cunt was the eventual endgame. Her stomach dips with her next breath. Sucks her lips in. 

Oh, and that whimper; that bubbling whimper mixed into a wail of some sort. She’s looking at you; deep into your eyes where she wishes to see that part of that universe she knows she should’ve never left in the first place. Her smile is lazy. She’s got that fucked-out gaze written all over her. 

“Too much?” you say, diving into the curve of her jaw to where she moans at the contact. 

“Never,” she mumbles, cock drunk at the continuous pressing you’re doing inside of her. 

“Good,” you rasp. 

“Baby, baby, baby,” Rosé purrs, nails clawing away the skin and sweat off your back, clutching, “Please keep fucking me.” 

You bite a patch of skin away from the underside of her chin. You would rather be on the back foot here - dialing it down, but she won’t utter a complaint; she wants to feel this, how hard you can be with her. She’s taken you plenty of times before, getting her so wet at the thought of fucking her raw and dumping your load until it’s dripping down her inner thigh, watch her gasp and beg for the taste when you pull yourself out and she’s almost at the edge too. 

“Not leaving you until I’ve had enough,” you’re panting, carving your dick down to the base, thumbing her clit, a twisted evil smile painted across your lips when she’s wailing out of her mind - the mere image and sound of it is obscene. 

The pace is unrelenting, it wasn’t long until she’s cumming over your cock again, and again, and again - cutting off all the tension that’s building up in her spine as you’re holding the shivers spread across her body, unable to fight back but let you take her pussy so fucking well that the noises are bouncing off the walls, mix the heat into the open air, slide yourself out and slap the head of your cock on her swollen folds before letting her walls clench around your shaft. She might be fucked out, but you know that she still wants it. 

“Please-’ she’s pleading, and you know. You can tell from her face and body alone that she’s not done yet. 

You’re leaning down on top of her again, hooking your arms underneath her shoulders that makes the upper profile of her back fold at a ridiculous curve, and fuck her down that you’re hitting all the right places-

Her chest is heaving, nothing more than just sputtering pants - something that Rosé doesn’t register in her head right away; the air gets trapped at the bottom of her throat, swallowing, her eyes crinkle as there’s no sound coming out. 

You land your lips on hers to ease her mind. “In your nose, Rosie. Like so. There we go. Leave your pussy to me. You’re so good, you’re so so good.” 

Rosé’s head knocks into yours; a fierce wail pierces your ears. You can feel the clench a little tighter when you bottom yourself out; her stomach is moving in a concerning motion. Her gaze on you is almost a mix of shock, tears welling up in her eyes. 

You’re kissing her again, swallowing her cry. “Shhhh.” you comfort her. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” you hush, wrapping your arm to her lower back so she can stay close. “You can cum again baby, I won’t hold you back.” 

Her head goes sideways, the first domino to fall. You can see her mouth shape into something coherent - probably a dragged-out wheeze, okay, fuck, just, yes. 

“More, please, give me more,” she says. “Your cock, its- fuck, baby- I-” 

“I know sweetheart,” you croon, impaling your cock deep in her cunt. “I’m working with you here. You’ll let me use your pretty little pussy whatever way you like, huh?” 

It’ll be seconds before Rosé cums again, the wear and tear your minds and bodies are having are reaching its peak. The other times of fucking were just a competition of who can get off the other first. This time it was different; now it was getting someone over the edge first over the other - no telling how far this has gone on the scales of fucked up. 

She mouths a ‘yeah’, and the situation has never been more clear. You have to fuck her. You can’t help yourself. The nodding is only prompting you to keep going, her voice completely shattered. “Just- use me.” 

Right in the clamp of her melting cunt. In the tightening of her legs. 

“Fucking-” she’s sobbing at this point; you’ve got yourself in the prime position to where your cockhead hits the deepest spot of her cunt. “s-so good. That’s so fucking good, you’re pounding me so well-” 

She shrieks when you’ve pushed her past that brink. You’re entirely certain that it was your doing. 

This was the swan song you’ve sought out to hear. A hymn played in a time of reflection - collecting your thoughts and offering them to Rosé, hoping that she can accept your blessings and absolve you of your crimes, ordaining yourself to all good actions from this point moving forward. You’ll take this liturgy for as long as you’d like; worshiping her body and listening to all the psalms that are coming out of her mouth, holding her close as she rides out the lasting remnants of her orgasm - your name as a saint’s prayer and one that she’ll keep on speaking in tongues with over and over and over until she believes it to be true. You confess, through these harsh thrusts into her cunt with your cock, choking on the vice with a vicious finesse at the angle. 

(You’d wish you stayed at the cathedral a little longer than you did that day; confessing your sins was always going to be easier than pouring a heart out for someone who ripped it right out of you.) 

“Amazing,” you praise, and Rosé does this mix of a smile and a wince when you’re wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. Her hands guide yours down to the crease of her hips, enabling you to rock her cunt down like the lovely woman that she is. 

Her voice is rattled, helpless. Like she’s been chopped up, the cracks clear as day where the faults formed. “Want- want it- I want your cum, so fucking bad, please-” 

You grin when she grins, finally reaping the reward when you tug yourself up and splatter your cum all over her body. Her chest does this circular motion, arms digging deep into the mattress beneath her, wanting her skin to be soaked so well with your release. She can’t stop moaning. She doesn’t want to stop moaning. 

“Finally,” she sighs, whimpering, mouth twisting to a satisfied smile at the corners. “God, it’s so fucking much.” 

Her hand picks up the mess spread across her waist, wraps it around your cock in no time flat. The laugh she lets out when you groan is just sinister. 

Two can play that game.

She freezes when you slide your cum-soaked cock back into her dripping cunt; listen closely at the mere gush as you slide in once more. 

“Babe-” 

You push. 

“Think I can give more, just for good measure,” reassuring, and you hold her down so hard that the next load you give is caught deep inside her cunt. 

Pushing it all back in, where it stays. 

Her eyes pinch - and there’s no voice to be heard. All that’s shown is her slacked jaw, the air in her lungs passing through, soon filled with the shape of your lips pressed against hers. 

"It's so- it's so fucking warm inside me, baby-"

"Yeah?"

Rosé sniffles again as her body tries to shudder out the cum leaking from her slit. You don't let it happen though.

You keep breathing her in; she brackets your hips with what little strength she has left. It doesn’t take much, and you know. 

Because Rosé’s got you right where she wants, to the point where your bodies are so well molded into one where each heartbeat and thought are the same, feeling the suction of her pussy wrapped around your cock like it’s the missing piece. Half of ones together make a whole. Your cock fits so well. Above the soreness and debauchery. Once the mess is finally made. Where you’ll want to keep your cock warm and settled until you or her have finally had enough. She’s speaking nonsense still; and you just- keep- fucking going. Fucking into her cunt like it's the only thing you know how to do. Even when the throbbing subsides. 

Until you decide to fully embrace her. 

The heat’s still present where it stays; you don’t even make a move to clean yourself up - it’s too early for that. Instead, the sheets are pulled over you and her, take her fingers in your hands, and hold them right as they are. 

You look at the clock on the nightstand; a little before midnight. “We’re showering together, right?” Rosé pouts her lips, burrowing her head into the space of your collarbone, hand held up and over scratching your hair. 

“Yeah,” she says, nestling her head further up against your chest. “A few minutes here, please. With me. Stay with me.” The disarm is already in effect, and you wonder if you’re at the right place and at the right time; where your heart should be, it’s a brief period of pensiveness. 

–

You blacked out. When your vision comes to, there’s nothing much for your eyes to see except the endless void of darkness that stretches over the room until the glow from the streetlights below breaks through the window. Each blink you do makes you wonder how much time has passed - along with the countless questions of what’s to come next. The thrum of your heart pounds heavy against your ears, but you’re breathing, and alive. You also notice that the space on your right side is a lot lighter compared to earlier, the quick rush of anxiety plaguing your mind. 

That all changes when you look out the window again, specks of white floating down gracefully. 

It’s snowing again. 

“Oh, you’re up,” Rosé’s voice instantly reels you, towel wrapped around her neck and in some comfortable clothes. “I was just about to wake you.��� She crawls back on the bed to your side and kisses your cheek. The moment alone holding your heart in limbo. “Sorry, I thought I’d get ahead and use the shower first. You looked so peaceful sleeping.” 

Only she would be the one to blame for that. 

“Why are you dressed up?” You ask, fixing your posture and leaning into Rosé’s face for another quick kiss. She draws away playfully, wagging her head a ‘no’ that makes you lean back as a result. “We would’ve saved water if we went together.” 

“It’s fine,” Rosé tuts, ruffling your hair. “Go shower and get dressed. I wanna go for a walk.” 

“Really? Why? Right now? It’s late.” 

“But it’s also Christmas,” Rosé adds, walking away while you’re finally sitting on the edge of the bed. “We won’t be out for long. And besides, what’s wrong with a little more cardio?” 

You give her a smirk at the end in agreement. Her feet are cemented in place until you reach forward with an arm, pulling her in. Once reeled she tilts her head in surrendering because she knows that you'd be clingy without explicitly saying it.

She's back on your lap. She's yours. She can be yours again. A wish that you want to make true.

"Gonna let me go?" Rosé asks, giggling, and you kiss her.

"Maybe," you answer, leaning up for another peck since it's not hurting anybody. "Just wanted to tell you Merry Christmas."

–

When the snowflakes hit your skin, part of you on the inside is jumping for joy. It’s even better as your ears are filled with Rosé’s contagious laughter, running up the sidewalk and picking up clumps of snow in her hand. 

You make sure to be right behind her, for as much as you can.

–

“This whole thing has been a blast,” she says, slowing her pace when you and she are on the edge of a bridge. In the late hours in the city, where anyone could get away with anything, it’s just you and her - five feet apart from each other, walking along, wandering wherever your feet go. “An absolute dream come true for me. For us.”

The snow starts to land on your head along with your shoulders. 

“Part of me makes me wonder,” Rosé continues, hands wrapped around her long scarf, keeping her neck warm, nodding her head side to side when her eyes eventually land on the sea of locks put on the fencing of the bridge. She knows exactly where she is. You know exactly where she took you. “Would any of this be different if we didn’t go our separate ways?” 

“It’s a pretty good thought,” you tell her. Your exhale shows your warm breath dissipating into the cold air, causing you to bunch up your shoulders to your ears to make the heat stay. “Makes me wonder if you’d put it in your old diary back in middle school.” 

“Hey. Fuck you.” 

You shrug your shoulders with a smirk and walk closer to her. “I know you. You would.” 

Her feet stop at a random padlock just underneath the railing. She slides it into her palm, examining it. It’s not anybody she knows in particular - just the fact that what stood out to her was the neat handwriting of the initials drawn up in a Sharpie. You feel her gaze on you when you approach her side, taking a closer look at what’s in her hand, slotting your palm underneath. 

She keeps staring at the lock, leaning your face into your chest. You bury your nose in her hair, thoughts trailing to someplace where you don’t want to think about anything else. 

You point at another fancy lock decorated with gems. She points out an old-fashioned one next to you. 

‘Hey,” she says once more, looking up. The lift in your eyebrows serves as the appropriate response. Silence starts to grow between you two, the gust of wind blowing through your bodies. 

Rosé tries to read into your expression: stoic and mysterious. She knows that you’re not one to vocalize your thoughts out loud - instead, you stay quiet and listen obediently, waiting for your turn to speak when it’s the right time. A soft smirk spreads across her lips, knowing exactly what’s going on in that brain or yours. 

You wrap your arms around her and rest your chin on top of her forehead. “I think you have a general idea of what I’m thinking about right now.” 

She’s laughing into your chest, unable to look up. You look down to see what was taking her so long, only to realize that she’s hiding her tears away from the world. 

Somehow, like before, you know exactly how to comfort her when the emotions are starting to boil within her. “Rosie.” You’re saying her name softly, clutching her tighter now, the grasp of your fingers reaching to where you wish for them to stay. 

“I just wished that maybe-” and her voice breaks. Composure is starting to weigh down on your shoulders; heart rate rising in uncertainty. “Maybe if weren’t such idiots back then, we-” and the sentence doesn’t even get finished there. She’s trying so hard to put her thoughts into words, “like maybe in another life we weren’t like- well, this.” 

Her face is back in your hands, the tears building and spilling all at once. You give her a look of sorrowfulness - hopelessly, desperately, longing to make her realization a reality. 

“Memories, Rosé,” you’re telling her, “they’re all just memories. We don’t need the memories. Depreciating yourself isn’t gonna make anything better because we both grew.”

The tears well up in your eyes, too. You may be broken, but she’s also the same.

"I hope you can forgive me for a lot of things; for cutting you off and leaving you in the dark," she tells you, jaw twitching - unable to make eye contact, linking her fingers with yours, "but if there's one thing you choose to never forgive me on, my dear, is the fact that I wasted all your precious years."

(I know, you’re saying to her, in tandem with a verse that you’ll recite as penance once you and her part ways. I don't care. I don't care. I don't care about any of that. I just want the both of us to be there for each other, no matter what happens in between.) 

–

As of now, you’re mentally checked out from all the logistics once everything’s been checked in at the airport, waiting to board. Rosé’s dozed off on your arm. She thought that it was a good idea to get less than the usual six hours of sleep and her current state serves to be the consequence. The scarf draped around her shoulders was yours, adamant in wanting to save another keepsake from you; she claims that it looked better on her. (Which is a bit of an insult, you think. Though it’ll do the job of covering up the bruises along her neck just fine.) 

But, things are played out differently in the final act of the return trip. 

You hear her flight announce the boarding phase and tap her shoulder to wake her up. She shoots up instantly, blinking. Everything else falls into place: gathering her belongings, rolling up her luggage to where she can grab and go, fixing up her appearance with that one pair of sunglasses that she likes so much, but doesn’t wear just yet. You walk with her to the main walkway of the gates, getting all of the last looks you’ll possibly have in these last few moments. 

The familiarity with distance affects the healthy human mind to think of it as some sort of curse rather than a luxury - depending on the situation, you’ll take it with a grain of salt. 

Her arms are folded with her handbag and jacket, staring at you so eagerly. “So, you just gonna stay quiet this whole time or-” 

You scoff, because it’s the truth - and so like you. “Uh- well, I was just wondering,” you say, scratching your head shamelessly. “Are you sure you want go forward with this?” 

Rosé bobs her head for yes. The decision’s already been made; no point in changing it. “Unless you want to create a shit storm with our friends when we get back, then by all means go for it.” 

“Right.” you deadpan. “Just for accountability.” 

“If things do go south, you know where my flight’s headed. And given the present situation that you’re in, I’m in no position to make that choice for you,” she says, looking over to the tv board to see where her boarding gate was at. “Guess this is it, " she declares, sighing, "any last things or words you want to do or say?” 

You say something. And you do something. You pull her in for a hug, get the last whiffs of her coconut scented shampoo in her hair; she kisses you. You kiss her forehead as her eyes flutter shut; you hold her a bit too long for your liking, but tells you that she doesn’t mind. Don’t be far away, okay? At least let me catch up for once. 

She tells you: never. It’s a running inside joke. The classic game of cat and mouse, an old fabled goose chase; you’ll keep going after her even when you don’t expect it to happen. She’ll lure you back in so easily that all it doesn’t sound terrible as it seems. 

–

When you do settle on the plane, you have your moment of getting the window seat. Your eyes are getting familiar with the arraignment, how cramped the leg room is, the assortment of movies you know that you’ll sleep through. There’s a lot of things circilng around your head; either one at a time or all at once. This fever dream is coming to and end, and you’re left torn to not tell the tale. 

You check your phone and turn off do not disturb, taking in all the notifications that you missed the past few days. The work messages, fill-ins with coworkers and friends; then there’s Jennie’s messages. 

“I’m so fucked.” You manage, muttering under your breath. Tongue tip to your teeth to mentally prepare youself for what’s to come. 

–

(You keep thinking about that night on the bridge, holding Rosé in your arms - in midst of the cold weather hitting you. She tells you that this getaway was everything to her, and it’s the simplicity in the delivery that makes you want to share those snap-shot moments with her even more. Nothing else mattered to you: managing to fall in love with her all over again. 

We can try, you’re saying, we can always try again, and she smiles through the tears. You and me. Together. Properly.

“I’ve always loved the idea of starting over. It’s exciting. All of these things. All of these moments we spent together, it just felt right,” and her gaze goes crestfallen. “Never really thought that I’d come back to you, and I couldn’t be more proud.” 

And once you’re way up in the sky, it does feel like some sort of whirlpool back into the reality of life, the final fade to black shot - you look out the window and ponder: a choice can be made still. All of the stars have to align at just the right time for it to happen. It can happen. You could alter the course of the story if you just made the right calls. Maybe you will. 

Your gaze falls down to the ocean below - and maybe it’s a long shot, winding into a pipe dream. 

You’ll never realize what you can do unless you take the chance.) 

[homunculus-argument]

My usual problem of "and then some other shit happens" is that they keep piling up on top of each other. This morning, I was just about to start work when

mail comes in. I've received a letter from the tax office.

I open the letter and get a Fuck No Way That's Right kinda bill.

time to hit up my accountant and ask what the fuck do I do now

realise that I haven't delivered my accounting stuff for like four months either, gotta apologise to her about that too

e-mail doesn't go through, double-check the address, re-type my whole apology and explanation again

four consecutive e-mails do not go through

fuck I gotta call them, where's my phone

just as I was about to make a phone call, I receive a phone call

forgot I had a phone appointment with my doctor, turns out I do not have a natural physical resistance to poison damage, and my medication resistance is something else.

confident in my ability to execute two unrelated tasks at once, I take a sip of my tea while on the phone. Naturally I fuck it up and pour the lukewarm tea on my lap instead.

figuring that since I'm unhurt and only poured enough to soak my clothes, not my chair, I'll just sit with the wet tea on my lap until the phonecall is over, and hang them to dry on the balcony later.

phonecall done, I remove my clothes and go hang them up to dry.

spot my little ficus tree cutting on the balcony, decide to water it since it's so hot and I don't want the thing to die.

coming back inside after leaving my clothes on the balcony, my boyfriend sees me undressed and wants affection.

he also wants to show me a video that he came upon.

make myself more tea

coming back to my computer, remember the phonecall I was supposed to make.

call the accounting people and tell them I can't e-mail the person I worked with, and get informed that the person I had been working with quit unexpectedly, and the one currently running the whole business on her own will look into my shit once she's personally out of the hospital. She meant to call me earlier about What The Fuck I'm Doing but unfortunately hospital.

promise her to deliver my accounting things today since it's the least I can do to not make her day any worse than it already is.

save through my paypal activities, log onto my online bank, check my account and do some math to confirm that I should more or less be alright until my next payday. Move some more money to my bank card account for groceries, and log out.

remember that the reason why I logged into my bank in the first place was the accounting, and log back in to get that data.

send my records to my new current accountant with apologies for not doing that for four months despite of being supposed to do it monthly.

finally done with that, satisfied of actually Getting Things Done, I suddenly realise I've spent the past three hours on random sidequests, haven't even touched whatever it was that I was planning to do today, and top of that I've completely forgotten what it was that I meant to do.

waste another half an hour writing a meticulous account of how I spent my morning doing everything else than what I meant to.

[kyri45]

Not me abusing the asks to both share my love for the bioparents AU AND rant about the panels because none of my friends are in the LMK fandom and I'm suffering here so TAKE MY LOVE AND APPRECIATION ABOUT YOUR ART I guess x)

So first of all

I am a SUCKER for that kind of leaning in frames I'm going to print that and plaster it on my wall THEY ARE EVERYTHING /hj

I almost jumped of my chair when this one popped up YOU FED US GOOD its so worth the angst train incoming. Of course the panels before and after were equally as amazing but if I start going about every single panel we're still here in three days AT THE VERY LEAST LOL

Of course this one made me laugh like please their little faces

Using that to point out how much I love ALLLLLLL the silly faces you put in your comics I'm munching on them every single time they're crushy like chips or something just. Nom nom. Yummy.

Poor Nesha (Nesha? Nezha? Neja? I have no idea on how to write his name I already forgor LMAO) needs to be payed more. He tries to save MK and ends up dealing with two lovesick teenagers demons who have no concept of time/place/occasion apparently. Poor him. He gets a pat on the head for his troubles

And of course just the "NOPE I'M KEEPING HIM" mode and honestly we should have seen it coming- Red son was planning to courtnap him and didn't sleep in the past 5 days so he's not having any bullshit YOU'RE NOT TAKING HIS NOODLE BOY AWAY-

Could bet he spent so long thinking about the cournapping in the 5 past days his brain just cannot process that yeah maybe you need to let him down you're just going to drag him in more troubles- Either that or he's just going full protective mode. Both options are good anyways sooooo :)

We stan a protective boyfriend in this house.

---

And finally I'm SOOOOO hyped about whatever is coming next like I know that technically we're supposed to suffer but please I climbed up the angst train so many times now I'm just enjoying it by that point lol. It'll just make the following fluff even more worth it

Also I cannot wait to see MK's plan about the contract I'm so curious I'm dying I love you boys but I really want the plot to progress you can go back to kissing later lol

Finally, thank you for creating this AU. It's stumbling randomly upon it on my tik tok fyp that dragged me into watching Lego Monkie Kid and really THANK YOU FOR THAT. It's such an amazing show I CANNOT BELIEVE I didn't discovered it sooner so really thank for having created this comic because else I could have missed LMK and that would be just saaaad

Fun fact: since I had never interacted with LMK the first time I read your comic, I for some reason thought Macaque was a female (and I probably would have thought the same of Wukong if he wasn't called... well, Wukong because I randomly stumbled upon the myth's Wikipedia page at some point in my life XD). The shock I felt when I heard Macaque for the first time in the show because his voice was soooooo not what I expected x) I'm still laughing at myself to this day

So yeah, from the bottom of my heart, thank you, and I can't wait to see what you're going to pull next :D Wish you allllll the best <3

(I can totally wait, of course, it's just a figure of speech. Take your time, I could wait forever for the next chapter)

ahaha thank you for such a lovely comment!! Glad the scene gived "MINE" vibes as I was planning ahah.

Youu're welcome! It's an honor to serve this fandom. *bows*

[xo-hoon]

25 Days Later — p.sh

minors do not interact!

pairing: ethical serial dater!sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: fluff, angst, smut, fake to real relationship trope

synopsis: For Park Sunghoon, relationships should remain uncomplicated. With life already filled with complexities, he believes that dating should only last for twenty-five days—just enough time to enjoy each other's company before parting ways. And there’s Yoon Y/n, who was driven by her curiosity rather than romance, finds herself intrigued by Sunghoon's unconventional plan, prompting her to join him for these twenty-five days. Yet, beneath their playful interactions, an unpredictable tension hints that things may not be as simple as they appear.

word count: 39k (i’m sorry?)

warnings: protected sex (YES! PRACTICE SAFE SEX), Sohyun from triple S as Hoon’s twin sister (love that), reader has a bragger moment, mentions of corpses and dead people, mentions of accidents. I stopped putting indications midway cause i have already reached the maximum of ten photos per post thing (still don’t know how this works). Grammatical and typographical errors ahead!

Day 26

Sunghoon just stared blankly at the screen of the laptop in front of him. His canvas was empty, and it seemed like he didn’t know where to start with everything he had to do.

He knew he had to get to work. There was a deadline he needed to chase—one website, a set of marketing materials, and cover studies for a book set to release three months from now. But damn, his brain just

wouldn’t cooperate. There was only one thing on his mind since last night:

Yoon Y/n.

Sunghoon was confused. It shouldn’t be like this. He’d spent years perfecting his dating lifestyle, and he’d never messed up. Nothing like this had ever happened to him after nearly a month of getting close to a woman.

His heart pounded harder as his mind filled with thoughts of Y/n.

He roughly ran his hands over his face, even tugging at his hair in frustration. "Fuck! Is karma getting back at me?”

He looked up, staring blankly at the ceiling as he recalled Y/n’s beautiful face—the sweet smile, the lively laugh, the softness of her hair, the smoothness of her skin, and that night…

Then he remembered her tears, the sadness in her eyes, the words she’d said that cut deep into his heart…

He cursed himself repeatedly as he realized just how big of an asshole he’d been. He needed to do something to redeem himself and save the only romantic relationship he could describe as real. He saved his work, then shut down his computer. He quickly showered and got dressed.

He needed to talk to Y/n.

In just minutes, he was already on the road. If he could, he’d have flown his car just to reach her house sooner. He could already see her family’s house when a motorcycle suddenly cut in from his side.

He swerved to avoid the rider, but even though he managed to dodge the motorcyclist, his car collided with a streetlight instead.

The screeching sound of tires and the crash of metal filled his ears. Then, darkness consumed Sunghoon…

Day 0

“Are you really listening to erotica?” His twin sister Sohyun teased, putting the earbud back in his own ear to hear what audiobook Sunghoon was enjoying.

Sunghoon laughed at his sister’s mocking expression. “Is that what you’re listening to? No wonder you didn’t hear me knocking on the door for the past ten minutes” she exclaimed incredulously. “Wow! I never knew you had this side to you, Hoon.”

“You're over exaggerating,” the male chuckled. He turned his attention from the cover of a young adult fiction novel and glanced at his brother. “First of all, you’re overreacting again. Second, you have a key, so you didn’t need to knock. Third, I’m doing this to drown out the music from the neighbors.” There was a wedding resort next to his apartment, and he often heard the wedding march two to three times a day. During June or December, it could reach five to seven times, and he was already fed up with it. “And fourth, I’m working, so of course, I need to concentrate.”

“Yeah, right. Just admit it—you’re only focusing on the love scenes in that audiobook,” Sohyun smirked.

“Fifth,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard his sister’s interjection, “This isn’t erotica. There was just a love scene, and you happened to catch me at that part. It's not even that explicit; the sex is just implied.” He didn’t want to sound defensive, but that’s exactly how it seemed based on Sohyun's smirk.

The woman settled on the sofa in his small apartment, which he was still paying for with his income as a freelance web developer and digital artist.

“I have a date later. I found a physical copy of this book in her bag, so I searched for the audiobook. Of course, I need some ammo in case our conversation turns in that direction.”

“Oh.” His sister shrugged. “Well, you're practically an authority on what women want. I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”

That was sarcasm. Even though his sister's way if delivering the statement didn't make it obvious, Sunghoon was sure of it. He laughed. “Is it really an exaggeration to call me an authority? I’m not an expert. I don’t know everything that women want, dear sister—just some things. Honestly, I think your kind is too complicated to fully grasp. I just happen to know a few bits.”

His twin snorted. “It doesn’t suit you; stop pretending to be humble. I know the story about how you’ve supposedly spent years studying the perfect dating formula.”

She took a sip from her paper cup and shifted the conversation. “Anyway, speaking of dating, who are you seeing now? And how many days has it been?”

He smiled. “Are you interested now?”

She rolled her eyes, but his grin widened. “Her name is Daehi. Yoon Daehi. I met her at Jay's birthday party,” Sunghoon explained, referring to a friend. “She’s a high school teacher—smart, a bit immature—which is understandable since she’s still young, kind of boring, and we’ve only gone out once. Tonight is our second date.”

“You call her boring, yet you’re still pursuing her?”

“It’s bearable. Plus, you know I prefer that they break up with me before twenty-five days, right? I’m a gentleman like that.”

Sohyun snorted again. “I’m quite surprised that you’ve managed to convince a lot of people with that 25-day theory of yours. I heard a TV show even contacted you, saying that they wanted to feature you.”

“I declined,” he replied with a proud smile. “I’d like to keep my life private, thank you very much. I told them that if they really wanted to feature me, I could consider discussing my theory with them, but they shouldn’t include me in the feature. They agreed.”

No, Sunghoon wasn’t a celebrity. It just so happened that he and many of his acquaintances had been in multiple relationships, allowing him, at twenty-four, to calculate the ideal duration of a romantic relationship—twenty-five days. It could be shorter, but it shouldn’t exceed twenty-five days, because after that, the thrill is gone. The romance fades, and there’s a boredom factor that creeps in between a couple.

And it seemed that many of his friends who had tried this approach agreed with him.

He had also been offered interviews with magazines several times, but he turned them down. He did want to inform people to help them, though.

Sunghoon believed that if everyone followed his formula, many would be spared from heartbreaks and unrealistic expectations. Many would enjoy life more and be happy.

Of course, there were those who disagreed with him—the traditionalists, the religious folks, the ultra-feminists, the sentimental romantics, and those who turned a blind eye to reality. But why should he let them affect him? His life had been free of heartaches since he started practicing the 25-day dating method three years ago. There was one time he had to file a temporary restraining order against a woman who wouldn’t leave him alone, and there were two or three others who still contacted him, unable to move on. But generally, things were good! He had never been this happy before, and dating had never been this fun.

Sunghoon glanced at his sister, who was merely three minutes older than him. “If I were, I would follow my own advice, and I bet you wouldn’t be sad right now.” Sohyun raised a hand in protest. “Oh, no. Don’t involve me in your nonsense. I’m happy being the single, strong, and independent woman that I am, so no thanks.”

“So, you don’t have plans on getting married?” he pressed.

“If I do, then I do. If I don’t, then I don’t,” she replied nonchalantly. “What matters is that I’m not at risk of getting HIV, unlike you.”

Sunghoon laughed. “Is that what you really think of me? Of course, I practice safe sex. And for the record, I didn’t sleep with all of them. Out of the fourteen, it was only about five, maybe six, or even seven.”

“Well, good luck to you then. I hope karma doesn’t catch up with you and slap you with some sexually transmitted disease, or that so-called true love that others talk about, or just a dose of your own medicine, or whatever.” He laughed even harder. “True love, huh? You still believe in that?”

Sunghoon guessed that his sister was still a virgin, unlike him. He hadn’t met any of her boyfriends, although she had admirers. It was also impossible for her to be a lesbian since she would blush over Kim Soohyun and other handsome, muscular K-actors. He suspected that his twin sister had been disheartened before but just didn’t talk about it. Or maybe she simply had high standards.

Sohyun shrugged and took another sip of her coffee. “My dear brother, just because we haven’t experienced something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist, right? Besides, I didn’t come here to discuss your theories on love’s existence.”

He pretended to furrow his brow at her. “Oh, so you just missed arguing with me?”

“Well, there’s a bit of truth to that.” He caught a glimpse of a smile forming at the corner of his sister's lips. “Anyway, I just wanted to mention that I have a friend who’s interested in testing your theory. She wants to date you.”

His eyebrows raised. Someone volunteered?Interesting. This was only the third time something like this had happened. “Alright, how old is she?”

Her sister shot him a look of disbelief. “Really, Hoon? That’s your first question?”

“What?” Sunghoon shrugged.

"She’s a year older than us. She said she was curious about your theory. Also, you’re dating her younger sister, and she wants to spare her from the upcoming heartbreak, so she’s stepping in to date you instead.”

“Huh?” he asked, confused.

“She’s Daehi’s older sister, and she wants you to apply your 25-day dating theory with her.”

“Is this... friend of yours also a sociologist?” He asked as his sister had a doctorate in that field.

She shook her head. “She’s a classmate of mine from the writing workshop I attended last month. We got close after meeting up for coffee regularly.”

“So she’s a writer wannabe too?” he asked, still puzzled.

“Uh-huh. And she’s also a teacher, patissier, sculptor, surfer, future architect.”

Sunghoon’s eyes widened. “Wow, she must be really dedicated to her studies.”

His sister just shrugged. “She’s had a lot of jobs. She says she was born curious.”

A slow smile formed on Sunghoon’s lips. He had a feeling he knew the real motive behind this woman’s interest. Maybe she just wanted to study him, being the friend of his sister. “Hmm... so what’s her name?”

“Yoon Y/n.”

“Hmmm…” he said, pondering. “So this Y/n... is she pretty?”

Her sister rolled her eyes. “Wow, I didn’t know you actually had standards.” Sunghoon chuckled as he scratched his nape.

Sohyun reached into the large bag beside her and pulled out her phone, scrolling and tapping on the screen. Then handed the phone to him.

It was a group picture of the women at the coffee shop. His sister zoomed in on the girl next to her, who was holding a book that he recognized as A Little Life by the cover. She had long, wavy brown hair, fair skin, beautiful sharp eyes, and a lovely smile, and a cute mole right below the side of her left eye.

Beautiful. There were other words he could use to describe her, but they would all be synonymous with that one word—beautiful.

“Hmmm,” Sunghoon said, trying to ignore the sudden flutter in his chest and stomach. “So when are you going to give me Yoon Y/n’s number?”

His sister's grin widened. “I knew that she’s your type!” She handed him her phone, where the details of his new date were displayed. “Just don’t hurt her, okay? If you do, I’ll be the one to beat you up.”

“Of course not. No crying; we’ll just have fun.” he teased.

In his mind, Sunghoon was already planning his next moves. He would probably break things off with Daehi tonight—in a sweet, memorable, and romantic way, of course. Then, he’d gently break up with her. He’ll then contact her older sister, who’s more attractive and seems more challenging.

—

Your sister's face was in a deep scowl as she came down to your workplace, which was just below your house.

"Is it true that you'll be going on a date with Park Sunghoon?" Daehi demanded without any preamble.

It seemed she’d already talked to the guy she’d been seeing lately, and judging by her look, things hadn’t gone well between them. She was still dressed for her last date with Park Sunghoon, wearing a black maxi dress and a fully made-up face. You just nodded, continuing to put on your coat, gloves, and mask as you prepared to meet your new client—someone who, apparently, had only been dead for an hour. Yes, your client was indeed deceased. The family business provided funeral and mortuary services, and you often worked as an embalmer as a side line.

"Why are you doing this, Y/n?" she snapped. "What's your damn point?"

You forced yourself to stay calm, keeping your tone steady. "My point is to spare you from getting your heart broken by a man who clearly doesn’t have good intentions for you."

"I'm not that vulnerable!" she insisted, her voice rising.

"Keep it down, Daehi. You might wake the dead." You smirked, glad you had your mask on—seeing you smile would only fuel her anger.

"This isn’t a joke, Y/n. You’re stealing my date," she snapped. "Why do you have to be such a… a homewrecker?!”

"I’m doing it for your own good, Daehi. And seriously, stop being so dramatic. It’s not like you were about to marry him. He’s a serial dater; he won’t take you seriously."

"You don’t know his heart well enough to say that!"

You burst into laughter. "Oh my god, Daehi! Just stop. You sound like you’re in some soap opera. Are you planning to get into acting?"

She stomped her foot in frustration. "But I like Sunghoon!" Her voice cracked, on the verge of tears. "He's funny, sensible, cute, and I'm falling for him. How could you do this to me?"

You rolled your eyes. A week into knowing him, and she was already ‘falling’? Over-the-top.

You finished putting on your work gear and faced her. "See? This is exactly why I’m doing this, Daehi." You pointed at her. "Look at yourself. You’re too emotional, childish, gullible, and you can’t keep your emotions in check. Especially when it’s for someone who has no intention of truly caring for you and will leave within weeks. You’re choosing to put your heart at risk! And yet, you’re mad at me for trying to protect you? Where’s the logic in that, Daehi?"

Her eyes filled with tears, taken aback by your bluntness.

"I’m not a kid, Y/n. I’m twenty-two; I don’t need your protection. I can handle myself."

You shook your head. "That’s a bit of an overstatement."

She glared at you, her tears starting to fall. "Well, I hope he breaks your heart the way you just broke mine," she said before storming off.

You sniggered to yourself. Your sister really was dramatic.

With a shrug, you walked into the prep room, where you spent the next two hours cleaning, draining the blood, removing the internal organs, injecting formaldehyde, dressing, and applying makeup on your client, a fifty-five-year-old woman.

As you were singing along to the Backstreet Boys' I Want It That Way playing over the speakers—a rather ironic choice given your situation—your phone rang in your pocket. Ignoring it at first, you finally checked when the caller proved persistent. The number wasn’t saved in your contacts.

"Hello?" you answered, not bothering to remove your mask.

"Hi! Is this Y/n?" The voice on the other end made your eyes widen and your heart skip a beat.

Damn, eargasm…

"Uh, y-yes."

"This is Sunghoon, Sohyun’s brother."

"Oh," you said, a bit taken aback. "Hi."

"She told me you were interested in dating me—”

You paused mid-stroke as you applied lipstick to the deceased woman in front of you, finding his words a bit odd. "Uhm…well, Sunghoon—"

"Oh, please, don’t tell me you're backing out. I acted like a jerk tonight and told your sister I found you interesting, and now…”

Your eyes went wide again. "Wow, that was quite harsh!"

You heard him sigh. "I’m really sorry. Sometimes, no matter how much I try to say things well, they just come out wrong. But I do mean well for your sister. She’s sweet, and she deserves someone better. We actually just talked—think we’re on good terms again. Anyway, would you like to meet up tomorrow?"

You stared at the body in front of you. "Uh, wait, Sunghoon... I'm kinda in the middle of something right now. Could you message me the details? But yes, I'll definitely meet you tomorrow."

"That’s great!" His deep voice was filled with excitement. "Okay, I’ll message you. See you tomorrow, Y/n."

"Bye." You quickly ended the call, tucking your phone into your pocket while pressing a hand to your chest.

Good lord, that voice could easily narrate an erotic novel.

After taking a few deep breaths, you got back to work. Once you finished, you cleaned up your supplies and stepped out of the room. You encountered one of the staff members and told them that the body was ready to be placed in the coffin.

You removed your lab gown, mask, and gloves, disinfected yourself, and headed to your parents' office.

“I’m going home now, Mom,” you said to your mother, who was busy at her computer, seemingly lost in calculations. As a Certified Public Accountant, she managed the funeral home's accounting books. "Where's Dad?"

"He just took your sister home. She was crying when she came here and wouldn't stop. She said she's going to lock herself in her room to—her words—cry properly."

You chuckled at the newly found information. Your sister could really be the next big K-drama star.

Your mom looked at you closely. "What happened? Did you two have a fight?" You snorted and sat in the chair across from her large oak desk—the one you used whenever you helped with office work. You explained your sister’s infatuation with a notorious serial dater and how you’d tried to keep her from getting involved. You’d learned about this guy from one of her close friends. Apparently, your sister had gone out of her way to befriend one of Sunghoon’s friends just to get introduced and ask him out.

You weren’t sure if she was influenced by your own adventurous streak, but you knew your younger sister well enough—she wasn’t as detached as you were. She was sentimental, naive, and far too trusting. If you let her go through with this dating scheme, she’d end up crying and heartbroken for sure. "I only want to protect her, Mom. It’s really for her own good."

Your mom laughed. "You’re always like this with Daehi. You’re more overprotective of her than your dad and I are."

You shrugged. "Well, look at your daughter.” It’s like she doesn’t have a brain, you wanted to add.

"But why did you have to volunteer to take her place?" Your mom raised an eyebrow. "You actually want to get involved in that twenty-five-day whatever?"

You scratched your temple. "I just thought it might be easier for him to let go of Daehi if he already has a new date. And, honestly, I’m curious, too, Mom."

Your mother watched you carefully, concern evident in her eyes. "Are you sure you can stay objective while dating that guy? What if you end up falling for him and get hurt?" she asked, worried.

You laughed. "Mom! The man is practically a robot. He has no heart; he plays with women and drops them after twenty-five days. That’s it. How could I ever fall for someone like that?" You almost added, Do you think I’m that foolish? If you didn’t fall for the decent suitors you’d had before, why would you fall for someone like him? It would be a waste of your Business Management degree and your soon-to-be degree in Architecture if you did.

"I hope so. I don’t want to see you get hurt, Y/n."

"Don’t worry, Mom. I know exactly what I’m getting into. This is nothing personal, just like my other little misadventures. I’m just curious."

Her expression softened into a smile. "I was just like that when I was young, too. It’s okay to be free-spirited, dear, but don’t forget to take care of yourself, okay?"

You gave a playful eye roll but smiled. "Mom, if I weren’t careful, would I still be coming home in one piece after everything I’ve done?"

You’d already done a three-day mountain trek, cared for tigers at a zoo, gone skydiving, and much much more.

"Sometimes, sweetheart, no matter how cautious you are, life can still surprise you," she said with a knowing smile.

"Alright, head on home before I end up using today’s earnings just to pay for your overtime." You chuckled. "You’re exaggerating, Mom." You stood up and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Good night."

"Good night, dear. I’ll be home soon, just need to finish up a few things here."

Day 01

If Sunghoon had been less self-assured—if he didn’t have confidence in himself—he might have felt small under the scrutiny he was receiving. It was a stark contrast to the obvious admiration he’d seen on Daehi’s face when they first met. But since he was well aware that he didn’t look bad, he simply held your gaze, studying your features just as carefully as you did.

The night before, he had made his last date with Daehi extra special. Believing that honesty was the best policy, he’d told her about what her sister had said and admitted his interest. She’d walked out, ignoring his repeated calls until, finally, around ten, she picked up.

—

"I feel like a jerk for doing this to you, and I’m really sorry,"

he had said.

"Good that you know!"

she replied.

"I really am sorry."

He heard her sigh on the other end.

“It’s fine, Hoon. I appreciate your honesty. Honestly, my sister is more interesting than me."

"No, no, that’s not what I meant, Daehi—"

"And,"

she cut him off,

“If I’m being honest with myself, I’d admit that there wasn’t much spark between us anyway. Sure, I had a crush on you, but it was more like we were just siblings agreeing to go out on dates."

He exhaled in relief.

“Maybe I just wasn’t the right guy for you. You’re a sweet girl, Daehi; you deserve someone better. Someone who’s not a jerk like me."

"I know, right?"

She laughed on the other end.

He found himself smiling, too.

“So, have you already met my sister?”

There didn’t seem to be any bitterness in her voice anymore.

“I’m calling her tonight."

Daehi giggled.

“Now that I think about it, you two might actually be a good match."

—

He hadn’t fully understood what that meant until he finally got to call you. Your voice sounded muffled, as if there was something covering your mouth while you spoke to him, but he quickly noticed that you didn’t seem like your sister, who was sweet, fun-loving, and romantic. From your tone and demeanor—even though he could barely hear it—Sunghoon could already sense you were more direct, even strict.

Now, facing you in person, his impression was slightly different. You looked like… a scientist—a scientist who was carefully studying some microorganism under a microscope. And he was that microorganism.

To his surprise, you were far more stunning in person than in the photo his twin had shown him—who had even called him earlier to wish him luck. And every part of him that could heat up practically did when he saw you up close.

You weren’t dressed in anything revealing. A simple white satin dress and sandals with a slight heel, not overly curvy or busty, but you radiated an undeniable sex appeal. Sunghoon didn’t know if you had this effect on every man, but on him? If he could—if he really could—he’d grab you, steal a kiss, and whisk you away somewhere private. But, of course, that wasn’t an option. He wasn’t raised that way, after all. Plus, he wanted to get to know you… and stare a little longer. Your face was stunning, such a pleasure to look at.

"You look… okay." It took a moment for Sunghoon to register what you’d said.

"Hmm? Excuse me?" he replied, a bit confused.

You shrugged. "I said you don’t look bad.” you rephrased your statement from earlier, yet, it still sounded unpleasant to his ears.

Wow, who does this woman thinks she is? and what kind of men does she interact with? Models or celebrities, perhaps?

Sunghoon had never met anyone—whether a girl, boy, or someone from the LGBTQ+ community—who called him ugly. Never. The worst comments he’d received were about his skin being too fair, or that his teeth were too white, or that his nose was too perfect, but no one had ever said, or even hinted, that he looked bad.

He couldn't take his eyes off your face. "What do you mean? Am I ugly?"

You laughed. "If you’re ugly, then what do you call an average person?"

Sunghoon exhaled and smiled. Okay, maybe he just panicked and exaggerated a little bit. It seemed that you weren’t being harsh after all. He was just about to open his mouth to thank you when you continued speaking.

"I’m just curious on why you’re doing this. You don’t seem disillusioned. With your looks, you don’t look like someone who would reject someone heartlessly." His smile widened. "Thank you. You don’t look bad yourself."

It seemed like you didn’t even hear what he said and continued your statement. “Unless you have a really terrible personality," you added, which made him frown again. "Or maybe you have smelly feet—"

"Hey, hey, hey, hold it." Sunghoon raised a hand to stop you. "My personality isn’t bad, and my feet definitely don’t smell. I’m doing this 25-day dating thing because it’s effective."

"Says who?" You raised an eyebrow at him.

"Says my three-year record, my unbroken heart, and my happy, stress-free life," he replied confidently. "And a lot of my friends agree with me."

One corner of your mouth lifted in a smirk, and he hated how cute he found that. "Really? Is that so?" Hoon grew serious and crossed his arms. You were confusing him, honestly. He couldn’t tell if you were interested or not. While you became more attractive in his eyes, he was also starting get annoyed by your comments.

"So, what do you want to say?" He shrugged. "Why are we here now?"

"Because I'm curious."

He had a feeling that wouldn’t be the first time that word would come up between you.

"Okay. So you’re willing to do this with me just because you’re curious?" You nodded. "You’ll be wasting twenty-five days of your life just to satisfy that curiosity."

You took a sip of iced coffee from the plastic cup you were holding. "That’s fine. I’m naturally curious. I’ve made most of my big decisions out of curiosity." He didn’t quite believe you, but he decided not to say anything.

He took a deep breath and explained like he was some kind of a tour guide, "So we'll date for twenty-five days, and then we’ll go our separate ways. No hard feelings, no regrets."

"I know that," you nodded, as if you were one of his clients negotiating about projects. Very professional of you.

He sighed, clearly frustrated. "This is so weird."

"Why?" you laughed lightly. "Your dates know the rules too, right? You’ve surely briefed them about it."

"Yes," Sunghoon agreed, "but never like this. They didn’t come in with another motive. They just wanted to get to know me genuinely."

"I actually want to get to know you too," you replied. "What do you mean?"

"It just feels so… unromantic. Impersonal, you know? Like we’re making a business deal."

You laughed again, and damn, why did he find that so cute? He really shouldn’t be feeling that way anymore. "Because this is sort of a business deal, right?"

"That’s not completely true!" he insisted. "If that’s how you think, this isn’t going to end well."

"I'm willing to cooperate," you said seriously.

He scratched his neck. "It doesn’t feel like we’re on a date. It feels like you’re conducting a social experiment, and I’m your subject."

"In a way, that’s correct. I want to get to know you and understand why you’re doing this."

He was getting really annoyed at this point. "Why does that sound like you think I'm some second-rate person just because I chose to handle my love life this way?"

"I'm not judging you, Sunghoon," you replied calmly, which helped keep his irritation in check.

"You’re definitely an interesting person, and I know it’s not just because of this 25-day dating method. But I guess you can’t blame me if I focus on that aspect, right?" You clenched your jaw, trying to avoid saying anything too harsh. "But please don’t take it personally. My curiosity led me to that writing workshop where I met your sister, to continue my studies, and to create that long list of job experiences. So?"

How could he explain this? The theory was meant to be objective to avoid heartache, but the people involved shouldn’t be too detached either. How could you both enjoy your time together if, in the back of his mind, he felt like you were analyzing him? And if you were constantly looking for flaws in his theory, how could he genuinely like you?

"Like I said, I’ve made plenty of decisions just out of curiosity, so this isn’t really different from those."

Oh, really?

He almost voiced his thoughts. Why did it seem like you had ulterior motives? Was it that you were out to disprove his theory? Irritation flared up inside him. Well, you were in for a surprise; he was determined to make you like him so much that you’d forget this whole dating experiment was merely about curiosity.

"Okay, deal," Sunghoon replied.

Your smile was captivating, and for about two point three seconds, he found it hard to breathe. Yet, he was also annoyed because your smile felt like a challenge. You were quickly turning into a mystery for him.

Ah, now he was becoming curious about you too.

How could he feel both frustrated and attracted to one person?

—

"So what do you think?"

Your friend Sohyun asked from the other end of the phone. You had just come home from your meet-up with her brother and had barely stepped into your room.

"I think we’re perfect for each other,"

You replied, deliberately being dramatic.

You could hear Sohyun gasp from the other line, which made you laugh.

"You sound surprised,"

You remarked.

"Now that I think about it, you and Hoon do seem perfect for each other. He’s a guy whose commitment lasts only twenty-five days, and you’re a girl who gets attached only until her curiosity is satisfied. You both seem to have perfected the art of moving on. It works."

"I know, right?"

you replied as you settled down on your bed.

"I think this will turn out well since we’re both objective and not into drama. There’s a chance we could be friends afterward. Though, he seemed a bit taken aback by me earlier. I guess he’s never met a girl who's not romantic or sentimental."

"Our kind is becoming extinct."

You both shared a delightful laugh before Sohyun probed again.

“So what do you think of him? Do you think he’s cute?”

Cute? The word horrified you. What does "cute" even mean? My gosh, he was—

“Okay. He was okay.” you replied, an understatement of the century.

What do you even mean by "okay” ? You didn’t even know how to pretend that you weren’t affected by the man’s presence earlier! Your act was top-notch.

From the tips of his neatly gelled hair to his ridiculously handsome face, his tall and poised frame, the way he carried his simple white button-up long sleeve, black trousers, and Prada loafers, his deep, resonant voice, his piercing gaze, the way his hot canines would show when he smile, and the scent that lingered...

God, did you really need to keep going with those thoughts?

And It didn't help that whenever he looks at you, it felt like he was taking in every feature of your face. You wanted to feel self-conscious and blush fiercely, but thankfully, you weren't really the type to blush. Your earlier image of being a 'confident and detached woman' was almost fading... along with your other panties….

Wait, what!? NO! Y/n, you are an intelligent woman and don’t give in to physical urges that easily!

"You didn't find him attractive?"

Sohyun asked, sounding skeptical from the other end of the line. It seemed she didn’t believe your description of her twin brother, and she was right to doubt it because it wasn't entirely accurate.

"Of course I did,"

You confessed.

“Come on, do you think I'm blind? I maybe in serious need of prescription glasses, but I can still recognize genuine good looks.”

Your friend laughed.

"That's great!”

You briefly pulled the phone away from your ear, surprised by the tone of Sohyun's voice. Was this really your friend on the other line? It sounded like she wanted to play matchmaker, and you, of all people, for her brother? That seemed like a bad idea.

"So when's your next date?"

She asked as you pressed your phone back to your ear.

"Tomorrow. We’re just going to the park so we can talk better. Wednesday works for both of us since we’re free all day."

"Well, good luck to you both. I really hope everything ends well. I hope in the end, you both become wiser, happier, and better people. Because if either of you gets heartbroken, I’ll feel like it’s my fault."

You laughed.

"Come on! I volunteered for this situation. Plus, you know I’m not the type to get heartbroken. You even said I’ve perfected the art of moving on. And it’s not like I’m going to fall in love with your brother while doing this. He knows I’m just curious about it, so it’s not really dating—it’s more of a social experiment."

Your friend's response was a heavy sigh.

“I hope so."

Which made you a bit nervous.

"Anyway, what are your plans for the last week of the month?"

She changed the subject.

"We're planning to go to Jeju. Do you want to come?"

You frowned, wishing you could join them. You missed going to the beach, but it seemed like you wouldn’t be able to go until your semester break.

Day 02

“What's your favorite…” Sunghoon paused, rummaging through his mind for a word to complete the question, “…movie?”

You two were at a public park, just a short car ride from where you live. You both spent the past hour walking, sitting, snacking on random food, and asking each other questions. And honestly, it was boring him to death.

You wore a light blue short dress with white shoes, looking cute as ever. Sunghoon had been holding himself back from leaning closer to give you a kiss very oftenly. His hands were practically glued to his pockets, trying to resist the urge to reach out and feel the softness of your smooth skin.

Maybe he was getting bored because he had something else on his mind—something that wasn't exactly appropriate for a first date, especially not in a public place like ‘the park’.

Your lips puckered a bit as you thought, and—goddammit!—he was once again feeling that strong urge to taste them.

“Stop! Don’t answer that!” Sunghoon blurted out suddenly, startling you.

He sighed. “I’m going to die of boredom if we keep doing this like this.”

“Like this what?” you asked, a slight crease forming between your brows that he couldn’t help but find adorable. He wanted to smooth it out with his fingertip. Maybe in the days to come, he’d get the chance—and the right—to do just that.

“Like this…” He gestured between the two of you. “It’s boring. It feels like we’re filling out a slum book, only verbally.”

You watched him closely, listening intently.

“We need to do this… more naturally.”

You shrugged. “Well, you’re the expert here. Whatever you come up with, I’ll cooperate.”

Maybe we should just make out?

His inner voice teased. But of course, he didn’t act on it. He was a gentleman—at least, outwardly.

“Let’s go.” Sunghoon reached for your arm, guiding you toward his car. He drove the both of you for a few minutes to a nearby mall.

“We’re going shopping?” You looked slightly disappointed.

"No, we’re just gonna try something different," Sunghoon said.

Moments later, you both stood at the movie theater ticket counter, scanning the list of films. "Instead of just asking each other what our favorite movies are, I thought this would be more fun. We’ll watch as many movies as we can today, then discuss them over dinner. Sounds good?” he suggested.

There was a sparkle in your eyes as you smiled at him. “Doesn't exactly match the formula for a second date you mentioned in that magazine article I read.”

He grinned. “Well, that’s true. But let’s give it a shot. Who knows? It might actually be better.”

A slow smile crossed your face, making Sunghoon feel something fluttering once again.

"Consider yourself lucky you asked someone who loves watching movies.”

He laughed. “Sorry, this is pretty unplanned.”

“It’s fine. It’s more thrilling this way. Trust me, I know.” You flashed him another charming smile. “So, which one do we start with? I’ve seen that one,” you pointed to a poster, “but I wouldn’t mind watching it again. The lead actor’s pretty hot.”

Sunghoon chuckled, aside from other things, that’s the thing that he’s starting to like about you: your spontaneity. You both decided to buy tickets for the whole day—three movies, with only a few minutes in between each and all close by. You stocked up on snacks before heading to the first showing, ready for a full day at the movies.

—

"You could definitely work as a movie reviewer if you ever get tired of your job.” you commented that evening as the two of you sat down for dinner at a cozy Korean spot. You had spicy tteokbokki, while he opted for kimchi jjigae, and you shared a plate of Korean fried chicken on the side. You had just wrapped up discussing your thoughts on the films you watched, and though not every movie had been great, you couldn’t help but be impressed by his sharp insights.

"Oh, thank you,” Sunghoon replied, pausing to take another bite of his stew. "I just really like watching movies, so I guess that's why my reviews sound so... extensive." He even used air quotes on the word reviews.

You watched him, thinking. "You know, I’ve never had a date quite like this. Do you usually go all out like this with other people you’ve dated?”

You asked as he flashed you a smile that shows his beautiful canines. "Not really. Actually, this is the first time I’ve tried anything like this. Normally, it’s just one movie on a date, and never before the fifth date. I mean, bringing someone to a dark theater too soon could give them the wrong idea."

You couldn’t help but feel pleased. The man had been on his best behavior in the theater. There were a few moments when your hands brushed in the popcorn tub, and he’d flash you a little grin, like he’d won some small victory. But that was the extent of it.

"Oh, really?" You gave him a skeptical look, clearly showing you didn’t completely believe him.

He chuckled. "Come on, Y/n, give me a break. I’m not just sweet-talking you. Sohyun told you already… and you’ve read about it too. My 25-day dating theory has a strict plan. This was just a small exception."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Alright, maybe I didn’t break any rules exactly. Let’s just say I loosened up a bit today."

"Is that so?" you said with a playful tone. "Guess I’m pretty lucky. I almost thought you’d planned all of this—to have us discuss movies so you could impress me with your reviewing skills." He laughed, eyes narrowing with amusement as his dimples deepened. He looked so handsome when he laughed that you found yourself torn—should you pinch his cheek or just kiss him?

"I swear, I didn't plan it," he said, still grinning. "So, I guess I managed to impress you?”

You smiled back genuinely. “Good enough."

He let out a soft chuckle, shorter than before, but still cute.

“But really, why are you doing this?” you asked as you turned serious.

"You mean the movie reviews?"

You shook your head. "No, I’m talking about your whole... cause. Being a serial dater. What’s the reason behind it?"

"You’re starting sound like a journalist with all these questions." A smile crept back onto his face.

You shrugged. "I’m just curious."

"You really love that word, don’t you?" he said with a smirk.

You shrugged again. "Don't bother keeping track of how many times I say it; you’ll lose count."

After a brief moment, Hoon focused on twirling his pasta around his fork before looking back at you. "I want to live a life free of heartache. If only everyone could be like me. That’s what I truly want."

"Well, I’ve managed to avoid heartache for years, Sunghoon, even before I learned about your method."

His eyes widened in disbelief. "Seriously? Are you saying you’ve never had a boyfriend? Because I’d genuinely think something’s off with every guy you’ve encountered."

You took a moment to process before laughing, finally understanding his point.

"You’re such a flirt; do you realize that?"

You noticed him trying to suppress a grin. "I’m serious." Your smile dimmed a bit.

His compliment flattered you, even if you recognized it as mere flattery. "I’ve had boyfriends before. Twice."

"And you’ve never been heartbroken?" He sounded astonished.

You shrugged with a touch of pride. "As your sister have said, I’m an expert at moving on."

"Is that for real? How do you manage that?"

"I just don’t care too much. I don’t give a lot of f*cks," you replied quickly. "I think that’s the real secret to relationships. Don’t assume, don’t expect too much, and just let things flow in the way that they should." Sunghoon laughed. "I think you’re just saying that to make me doubt my theory."

"I mean, it’s not a secret that I don’t really believe it, right? Let’s just say I’m conducting some research, which is why we’re spending time together. Something like that."

"You know what I think?" He set down his chicken and looked at you intently. "We’ll just go in circles for twenty-five days. I’ll do something to prove my theory, and you’ll do something to disprove it. That’s all. Nothing will come of it; we’ll just be wasting our time."

You adopted a serious tone. "What do you mean?"

Is he really going to wrap this up now? It’s just their first official date!

"I have a suggestion. Can we set aside our biases about how long this date will last? We both know it will end after twenty-five days, so why not enjoy ourselves?"

"If you don’t insist on your theory, I might not argue with you," you teased.

He smiled back. "I genuinely find you interesting, Y/n. I want to get to know the real you, not just this detached and defensive persona you show." Your heart skipped a beat at his words. "Can we go on a date without any hidden motives in the back of our minds?"

You paused to consider. "So, like a genuine date, then?"

Sunghoon nodded. "You mentioned you're curious. Let’s make it real. No hidden agendas, just authentic companionship while we learn about each other. How does that sound?"

You felt a twinge of nervousness, but agreed nonetheless.

Day 05

“Whoa! Your family has a funeral home?"

You couldn’t help but chuckle at Sunghoon’s surprised expression when he picked you up from work.

This was your third date. Over the past few days, your schedule had been packed, and Sunghoon seemed busy with his projects too, so you had settled for chatting, texting, and calling. This was the first time you were going out again.

“Didn’t Daehi mention it to you?” you asked in return.

“We only went on one date; we didn’t get that far in our conversation that night. All I know is that he’s still a student and that his parents are businesspeople. The second date ended in disaster because I told him we should break up.” You shrugged as you settled into the passenger seat of his car. Daehi wasn’t too proud of the type of business you had, so he generally didn’t share much about it with acquaintances and friends.

She wasn’t used to people’s reactions when they found out about the family business. Usually, people were either frightened or overly intrigued, leading to too many questions.

Your sister has never set foot in the morgue because she was afraid. When you were in high school, your dad took you there to explain the embalming process. He believed it was important for the both of you to understand everything about the business since you would eventually inherit it. However, your sister got traumatized when the corpse's eyes suddenly opened while your dad was cutting into its neck. No scientific explanation from your dad could convince her to pursue Mortuary Science after that.

“So, where are we headed now?” you asked, changing the subject. Sunghoon hadn’t said anything when he called you last night, just that you should dress casually and avoid skirts or white clothing if possible.

He smiled playfully while keeping his eyes on the road. “Do you like drive-in movie theaters?”

Your eyes widened as you realized what he meant. “OMG, don’t tell me?”

He was referring to the popular drive-in movie spot near your town.

Sunghoon laughed, probably because of the excitement in your expression. “Yep. Unfortunately, the VIP tickets that include a free dinner are all sold out. We’ll just have cheeseburgers, fries, and popcorn.”

You felt like jumping for joy. “Oh, that’s totally fine! I’ve been wanting to go there for so long, but I could never find someone interested.” You smiled at him. “Thank you, Sunghoon.”

He briefly glanced at you and returned your smile, making your heart race again. “You’re welcome, Y/n.”

You fell silent for a moment during the drive, but soon, your curious companion asked again, "So... are you involved in your family’s business?"

You nodded. "Uh-huh. I often help out when we’re understaffed," you replied without elaborating.

"Meaning, you also do embalming?"

You burst out laughing at Sunghoon’s expression. "Of course! You’re talking to a licensed embalmer here."

"Really?" He still seemed in disbelief.

"You have a problem with that?"

He shrugged his broad shoulders. "Aren't you a bit too pretty to be an embalmer?"

You were grateful that you didn’t blush easily. If you did, you would be bright red from the handsome compliment. "You're exaggerating. So, you think only unattractive people should be embalmers?" you said with mock horror.

He shook his head. "You know that's not what I mean. I just think you’d be better suited to be a model or an actress."

You paused for a moment before breaking into a wide smile. "Seriously? Is that how you talk to all the girls you date? Did that work for them?"

"Seriously," he replied, pretending to frown at you. "Anyway, I'm still curious. Do you like your job? Aren't you uncomfortable working with dead bodies?"

You examined Sunghoon’s arms for goosebumps, but there were none. You explained, "I have no choice but to like it. Come on, it has been my family's cause of living. My parents built it from the ground up long before I was born. All these years, those bead bodies have been what supported our family." You paused for a moment. "Wait, that sounds wrong. Did I just say that dead bodies support our family?" You both laughed. If taken literally, it sounded like they were zombies—brought back to life by the dead.

"Sorry if my reaction offended you," Sunghoon said after your laughter faded.

You waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, it’s nothing! I’m used to that. Your reaction is totally normal, I tell you. It is pretty morbid, though." You decided to change the subject. "So, do you enjoy being a freelance digital artist?"

"Yes." He answered simply.

“Is that it?" you probed, wanting to hear more of his thoughts.

Sunghoon chuckled, a glint of enthusiasm lighting up his eyes. "Well, it's challenging. I see every project as a challenge, and I rarely get bored.”

"Sohyun told me you also design book covers. Do you get to read all the books you work on?" As a bookworm yourself, that thought thrilled you.

"Sometimes," he said with a shrug. "More often than not, clients provide just a synopsis. If they want a mysterious vibe, they’ll only mention the themes. Some clients have a specific idea of what they want for the cover, which simplifies things. But I really enjoy having more control over the whole process; it adds a certain thrill."

"I assume you take your own photos?"

"Sometimes. But that usually raises the cost. Most of the time, I either purchase stock photos or draw them myself."

You took a moment to reflect, appreciating how the conversation flowed since it felt comfortable and engaging. "But what if the cover doesn't match the book? Like, if the cover looks flawless but the content is awful? Does that bother you?"

He shook his head, concentrating on steering the car as he made a right turn.

"But isn’t that misleading? Doesn’t it seem like false advertising?"

"Not my concern," he said casually. "My job is to design a cover that boosts sales. That’s it. It doesn’t matter if the book is bad; the cover just needs to look appealing enough to attract buyers."

"Oh no, I don’t agree with that," you replied after a pause.

"What don’t you agree with?" Sunghoon asked, genuinely intrigued.

"The false advertising part. I’ll always choose honesty, even if it’s brutally honest, over any kind of deception."

“Ouch!” Sunghoon clutched his chest as if he were in pain. “That hurts! Did you just call me a liar?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his exaggerated reaction. “Come on, I didn’t say you specifically. And don’t take it personally; I can be a bit opinionated sometimes. That’s just my perspective; it doesn’t mean I’m right. I know that sometimes we can’t avoid lying to others. The truth can hurt, and if we want to spare someone’s feelings, we have no choice but to hide certain truths.” You took a deep breath, feeling slightly drained from the amount you just expressed. “Anyway, what movie are we going to watch now?”

Sunghoon's expression brightened as he began to explain where you would be headed next.

—

“Well, isn’t this such a romantic scene,” you teased, laughing lightly.

You had just wrapped up the first movie of the double feature, and now it was intermission before the next one. A local band was serenading the audience with a popular love song while you both lay on a plush mattress in the back of his F150, gazing up at the stars. Hoon turned his head to catch a glimpse of you, who was lost in the beauty of the night sky, filled with twinkling stars. A playful grin crept onto his face as an idea struck him.

“It’d be more romantic if you scooted a little closer and rested your arm on mine,” he suggested. “Then I could lean in toward you—”

You burst into laughter. “In your dreams, Park.”

His smile grew wider at your reaction. Hearing you laugh filled his heart with warmth, and he silently vowed to always give you reasons to smile. “You really come off as someone who’s anti romantic when you laugh like that at those certain things, you know?” he teased, inching closer until your shoulders brushed against each other, savoring the sweet scent of your hair.

“Daehi also told me that I don’t have a romantic bone in my body. What does that even mean?”

"Aww. Your suitors must have it tough since you’re not easily swayed by romantic gestures."

You shrugged. "I don't know why either."

"So, you're probably not sentimental either?" he asked, curious.

"Well, I get sentimental about family, movies, things like that—those kinds of stories make me tear up."

"Really?" Sunghoon propped his elbow on the grass, resting his head on his palm so he could look at you instead of the sky. Somehow, the star beside him seemed to shine brighter than the ones above. "No wonder you didn’t cry during Eye for an Eye,” he pointed out, referring to a movie you’d watched on your second date.

You shifted to mimic his position, a sparkle of amusement in your eyes. "You were the one who cried!" you teased. "Did you think I didn’t notice you sniffing?"

That made Sunghoon smile in embarrassment, and he couldn’t resist playfully pinching your cheek. You swatted his hand, but he simply held it gently and planted a quick kiss on the back of it. You seemed a bit too stunned to react, and his smile faded for a moment.

"I don't remember enjoying conversations this much with any of my ex-dates. They were never this fun or this easy to talk to," he admitted seriously.

You felt a little flustered and looked away, but managed to crack joke, "Oh, so you're using seduction as a technique now, huh?"

Sunghoon reached out and gently held your chin, bringing your gaze back to meet his. "It’s called honesty, Y/n. You said you appreciate honesty, that’s why I’m telling you.”

Your mouth opened as you thought of something to say, but before you could respond, the host's voice came through the speakers, announcing that the next movie was about to start.

"Come on, let’s get up," you said.

"Wait a sec," Sunghoon replied, pulling out his phone and holding it up above you. "Let's take a pic first."

You pretended to strangle him for the photo.

—

You couldn’t quite explain the feeling as you lay in bed that night. A smile lingered on your lips, and there was a lightness in your chest that wouldn’t fade.

You closed your eyes, trying to drift off, but then Sunghoon’s face would pop back into your mind from when you both had been together earlier.

Out of everyone you’d dated, he was easily the most handsome; no question about it. But you weren’t the type to fall for just a pretty face. Sure, Sunghoon was easy on the eyes, his whole presence was. But that wasn’t the only reason you felt drawn to him. You both shared a laid-back approach to life and relationships—no unnecessary drama, no over-the-top seriousness.

You liked his voice—deep and soothing to the ears. If you weren’t mistaken, “mellifluous” was the right word for it. You had a feeling it’d sound amazing if he ever decided to sing. You also liked how he spoke his mind, how his eyes always glinted playfully, and how his mouth would curve into a restrained smile. It just made it harder to breathe whenever he did both while looking at you with those beautiful eyes.

A soft giggle escaped you as you recalled how it felt like fireworks had gone off inside you when Sunghoon kissed the back of your hand and told you he enjoyed your conversation.

You shook your head. No, you were just amused—not smitten. Who were you kidding? You knew this wasn’t anything long-term—scratch that, association was probably the better term. So why let yourself get swept away?

Your train of thought was interrupted when your phone chimed, signaling a text. You picked it up and couldn’t help but smile when you saw Sunghoon’s name.

Park Sunghoon: Just got home. Quick drive, no traffic.

Park Sunghoon: You asleep?

You briefly debated ignoring it and pretending to be asleep, but your fingers had already started typing.

You: 😴

He replied instantly.

Park Sunghoon: Oh, you look pretty when you’re asleep, Y/n.

You were about to respond with Only when I’m asleep? when your phone rang, startling you so much you almost threw it. The ringing wouldn’t stop, though, so you answered it.

“Hi, gorgeous."

A pandemonium erupted in your chest.

Just like the first time you’d heard Hoon’s voice over the phone, you thought he’d have made a great telephone operator… or maybe an audiobook narrator… or someone you’d call when you wanted a little phone fun.

Huh?

“Y/n?”

He called out again, snapping you back to reality.

“I told you I was asleep, didn’t I? So why’d you call?”

You asked, pretending to be annoyed. He only laughed in response. And oh, that laugh—so rich, so masculine, and so dangerously seductive.

You bit your bottom lip to hold back a giggle.

“Are you free tomorrow? It’s the last day of the Hot Air Balloon Fest, and I was hoping to take you,”

He said out of nowhere, making your heart pound.

Seriously, no segue? Did he have no mercy on your poor heart?

You were about to say yes when you remembered the date.

“Oh, sorry. Midterms are on Monday. I need to review tomorrow.”

“How about we go in the morning so you can study in the evening?”

You sighed.

“I wish I could say I’d be able to study three subjects with just a few hours.”

“Is that so?”

You could sense the disappointment in Sunghoon’s voice, and you felt like kicking yourself. Why hadn’t you reviewed yesterday or earlier today to lighten your load for tomorrow? Honestly, why did you sign up for a new course when you already had a degree in Business Management and an embalming license? Why did you fill up your calendar so much that it made it hard for Sunghoon to take you out on a proper date?

“You’re way too busy, a student and an embalmer, huh?”

He laughed, which made you smile.

“Yeah, I’m also a patisserie chef, a licensed aromatherapist, an ex-surfer, a former high school teacher, a photographer, an average mountaineer, and a sculptor—”

“Whoa!”

Sunghoon exclaimed.

“You’ve studied all of that?”

“Yeah.”

“But why? I mean, aside from just being interested.”

He asked, clearly curious.

"That's just how I am. I enjoy learning new things, visiting new places, and experiencing different things,"

You explained, chuckling at his response.

“Do you like to travel as well?"

"Uh-huh. If I didn’t have to help out at the funeral home, I would’ve traveled more and tried out different things."

"With all the things you want to do, I guess starting a family isn’t in your plans yet?"

"I'm only twenty-five, come on."

"But what I mean is, is it part of your plan? Or are you also like Sohyun? Just trying you ignoring that aspect of life?”

"Well, finding the right person is tough. You can't really plan on falling in love with someone and wanting to marry them. Love doesn’t come with a timetable,"

You said with a laugh.

“That was cheesy, I’m sorry.”

He chuckled softly.

“But it’s true.”

You shrugged even though he couldn't see you.

"And besides, we're dating, right? Who knows, maybe I'll end up liking this 25-day dating method of yours and follow your lead. At least it doesn’t come with too much commitment."

There was a moment of silence on his end.

Then he shifted the conversation.

"Anyway, do you want me to help you review?"

Uhm, hello? And how are you supposed to study when there's a tempting distraction right in front of you?

You let out a soft laugh.

"Thanks, but how about we just go out on Monday night instead?"

"But there won't be a Hot Air Balloon Fest then; tomorrow is the last day."

You felt a pang of disappointment—not just because you also wanted to experience the hot air balloon ride, but because Sunghoon seemed genuinely sad about your refusal.

"I'm sure there are plenty of other places we can check out."

Sunghoon exhaled thoughtfully for a moment before laughing.

“Oh, I had just the perfect idea. Alright, I’ll see you on Monday."

"Okay,"

You responded, trying to sound shy. But goodness! Why were you getting excited already? You had just parted ways!

“It’s a date.”

You hummed and nodded in agreement.

“So, Y/n,”

Sunghoon’s voice lowered an octave, sending a thrill through you.

“What are you wearing?”

You felt your cheeks flush. Oh god, his incredibly sexy voice sent shivers down your spine, leaving you breathless. Your face felt warm all over.

“Park Sunghoon!”

You scolded, realizing what he was doing. He laughed heartily, clearly enjoying the tease.

Day 07

"You look happy. I’m guessing you’re going on a date again, right?" your classmate Yunjin nudged you, clearly teasing.

As you all headed out of the college building, carrying your bags after finishing three tough exams, you smiled at her. Since you were pursuing a second degree, she was younger than you, which reminded you of Daehi.

“I’m just glad the exams are finally over. Now I only have my thesis and finals left to tackle.”

“Already? You’re such a downer. Why don’t you come with me and Kaz to karaoke tonight,” she suggested.

You remembered your conversation with Sunghoon on Saturday night before you fell asleep. He had mentioned he had a surprise for you later.

"Ah, I have a prior commitment, sorry."

Yunjin clicked her tongue, though she was smiling. "I knew it, you have a date with Dracula's son."

Something inside you reacted to what you heard. That’s what your friend calls Sunghoon—like a vampire. Because of how the guy looks (in a good and hot way), and you couldn't disagree more with that.

Since early Sunday morning, he had checked up on you a few times and checked how your review was going. You only responded to him twice to avoid showing how much you missed him more than you should have.

You shrugged while concentrating on the path to the train station. “Just a pretend date. You know I'm just trying it out. And he wants to convince me to do the same 25-day thing he’s doing."

"Well, for someone who's pretending to date, you two are pretty convincing. It doesn’t seem like it’s just pretend, with the sparkle in your eyes when you mention him. It looks like you're genuinely attracted to him. And who could blame you, right?" She teased. "Oh my God, just his eyebrows alone make me swoon." Your friend was practically gushing.

You laughed. "Really? His eyebrows?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying! His eyebrows alone are enough to make anyone swoon. Just imagine if we talk about his eyes, his nose, his lips, his jawline... Oh my gosh! And his body!" She practically squealed again.

You smacked your friend lightly. "Hey, stop that! You look like you're having a seizure.”

She paused and you saw her gaze fixated on something in the distance, a wide smile spreading across her face. You followed her line of sight, and there he was. Butterflies and worms were stirring in your stomach. Oh wow, Park Sunghoon really does look like a walking wet dream.

He was standing by his car, wearing a simple blue-and-white striped button-up, beige trousers, and his favorite loafers, looking like he had just gotten a fresh haircut. But what truly made him look even better was that broad smile and bright expression when he saw you.

You both had planned to meet for dinner later.What was he doing here on campus?

"My God, Y/n, if you won’t take him for real, I swear I’m going to steal that panty-cream of yours and keep him for myself,” you heard Yunjin say with a mock squeal, giving you a playful shove.

"Get over there before someone else beats you to it! I’m leaving so you two can have some privacy and so I won’t be tempted to kiss someone else's date. Bye!"

You shook your head and laughed at your friend, who had stayed back in her spot, just watching you and Sunghoon.

Your heart raced as he walked towards you. "How did your exams go?" he greeted, his sweet smile still on his lips.

You shrugged. "It was okay, though I almost bled out from the level difficulty," you joked. "Why are you here so early? Don’t you have work today?"

He raised a hand and brushed away some stray strands of hair from your forehead and temple. "I finished everything last night so I could see you earlier. I missed you."

You pretended to roll your eyes, but a wide smile broke through. The jerk was flirting with you again, and you let him don it anyway.

"You don’t have any classes, right? Do you have somewhere else to go?" Sunghoon asked, sizing you up.

You shook your head. You were just planning to have a beauty rest at home while waiting for your dinner date. But now that the object of your beautification was right in front of you…

"Then, let’s go!" Sunghoon took your hand and pulled you toward his car.

"Where are we going? It’s still too early for dinner."

It wasn’t even two in the afternoon yet.

"It’s a surprise," he said with a grin as he opened the door for you. For a brief moment, you felt the urge to kiss his lips just to see if that smile was as sweet as it looked.

—

He had been restraining himself, curious about whether your sweet smile really tasted as delightful as it appeared. Although you were dating, it didn’t feel entirely like one, leaving him uncertain about whether he had the right to kiss you whenever he wanted. In the back of Sunghoon’s mind was the reason you were together at that moment: your insatiable curiosity.

Regardless, he was enjoying your company.

He watched you as you soared through the air, gripping tightly while paragliding with the guide. Your gaze was fixed on the scenery, especially the setting sun illuminating one side of the mountains.

It would have been more enjoyable and more romantic for him if he were the one gliding with you, but he wasn’t an expert at it yet, so it wasn’t possible. Nevertheless, he enjoyed himself even while gliding separately. The sound of your laughter and squeals filled the air, bringing a light and sweet emotion to his heart.

He saw you ran over to him as soon as you got out of the harness and greeted him with a tight hug. "That was so much fun! The sunset is beautiful. Thank you, Sunghoon." He returned the hug and lifted you slightly off the ground, making you squeal in surprise.

All traces of regret over not gliding together earlier faded away. He set you down and stepped back a little to see your face. Sweat glistened on your skin, but you looked radiant with beauty and youth.

He couldn’t hold back any longer and leaned down to give you a quick yet firm kiss on the lips.

“We’ll do it again, I promise. Next time, I’ll make sure I’m good at this so I can glide with you,” Sunghoon said directly, trying to mask the impact that kiss had on him. God, his knees felt weak, and it had nothing to do with the activity they just did.

He gently caressed your cheek. "Come on, it’s getting dark."

That was when you seemed to snap back to reality, pulling away from him in surprise. He felt a rush of happiness knowing he wasn’t the only one affected by that innocent kiss. He took your hand, squeezing it gently, and pulled you closer to your group.

A few hours later, feeling satisfied with what you both had eaten, you were on your way home, chatting cheerfully about various topics.

"Do you have class tomorrow?" Sunghoon suddenly asked as he noticed that you both were getting close to your house. He wanted to gaze at you, but that wasn’t safe since he was driving.

"No, but I have work," you replied, referring to the funeral home. "Why, are we going on another date?"

"Just a dinner, maybe. Is that okay?" He shot you a cute look, trying to deceive you into agreeing with him. What annoyed him was that you didn’t know how to blush; he couldn’t tell if his moves were working on you.

You gave him a playful glare. "Is this how you are with your past dates? Do you really go out every night? That must cost a lot."

No was the right answer to your question. Sunghoon only took his dates out once a week because they both had jobs. But he wasn’t ready to admit that this was different from his past dates. He even recalled how you laughed when he told you that you were the most enjoyable person to talk to among all his dates. He shrugged and feigned confidence, saying, "You know that I could easily get a sugar mommy, right?”

"Oh my god!" You playfully hit his shoulder while laughing. "If we go out every week, I might get tired of seeing your face, Park."

He pretended to wince, “Ouch?”

You laughed even louder. "I’m just kidding!”

You pinched his cheek. "Stop acting cute. Alright, come over to my place so we can save some money. I can teach you how to embalm."

The young man smiled. You were wrong when you thought that the he would refuse your offer. He was already starting to come up with a strategy; he would keep his focus on you the entire time you were at the morgue. That way, if anyone else was there or if the corpse did something unexpected, he wouldn’t notice.

“You can also join us for dinner.” you added. "I’ll cook you some japchae, kimchi fried rice, and kimbap."

He couldn’t help but grimace, but that quickly faded into laughter, making his reaction even more apparent. A warm feeling spread through his chest as he listened to your voice and observed your expression.

To Sunghoon’s dismay, you both had already reached your house, and it was time to say goodbye.

"But you really should get home before eight tomorrow because I have another exam the day after," you reminded him.

He quickly brainstormed. "I could help you study for that."

"Yeah, but you might end up distracting me from my review even more."

He shrugged. "Alright, I promise I won't smile or smolder too much so you can focus."

You laughed at what he said. "That's not what I meant, Park.”

"I'll behave, I swear. Come on."

You looked at him, weighing your options. You weren't sure what other reasons you could use to discourage him. Sunghoon raised a hand and tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear. "If you haven't noticed, I’m going to spell it out for you: I'm just making up reasons to spend more time with you, Y/n. I just want to be with you more, so please don’t make it hard for me."

You froze, your eyes wide as you focused on him. After a moment, you playfully punched him on the shoulder.

"Such a flirt," you chuckled.

He secretly frowned. This seemed to be the issue with your situation; you took everything he did as a joke or just an act. "Well, you said you appreciate honesty," he shrugged.

You observed him for a few moments, trying to gauge on whether he were serious. Then, you flashed a sweet smile. "I think it's time for you to meet my parents. Come on in."

He was surprised as he watched you step out of the car and walk in front of his window, knocking on it.

"You coming or not?" you asked when he finally opened his door.

“Coming!” he shortly replied, quickly hurrying to follow you into the house. All the while, it felt like there was a hyper drummer keeping time in his heart.

Day 11

Sunghoon found himself distracted as he worked on designing a website for a Christian foundation. His gaze kept shifting to his phone, waiting for a reply from you. He missed you, and if he could, he’d fast-forward through the days just to see you again.

His mind wandered back to the day after your paragliding adventure…

—

A big smile had spread across Sunghoon’s face the moment he woke up that morning. He’d started his work early to get as much done as possible before heading to your place later.

He enjoyed spending time with your parents. And, without sounding too confident, he could tell they liked him as well. Meanwhile, it seemed that Daehi had already moved on from him. She spent a bit of time chatting with the rest before she headed upstairs, saying she was expecting a call on her cellphone—most likely from her suitor, who, judging by her smile, she liked too.

Anyway, he had a great time with Yoon’s. Your parents were hardworking, down-to-earth, and wise in conversation. They took pride in their work, honoring the departed with respect and dignity. They didn’t let him leave right away, so it was around ten when he finally said goodbye. Later, lying in bed, you exchanged a few more chat messages before officially calling it a night.

By the next morning, all he could think about was none other than Y/n, Y/n, Y/n. He was eager to see you again, but work got in the way. By eight in the morning, he couldn't take it any longer and finally gave in to the urge to call you.

The call connected after two rings. "Hi! Good morning!" he greeted brightly. But what answered was a sniffle. "Sunghoon..."

Concern quickly filled him. "Are you crying? What happened? Is something wrong?"

"M-my grandmother... She p-passed away," you stammered before breaking into sobs. Between shaky breaths, you explained that your father’s mother had been found unresponsive at her home in the province. She was eighty-four, had been a widow for a long time, and lived with the family of one of her children.

"I'm sorry, but we won’t be able to meet later. We’re packing right now since we’re flying out to Busan this afternoon. Dad’s assistant will handle things at the funeral home while we’re gone."

Sunghoon felt a wave of disappointment but kept it hidden. “I could drive you and your family to the airport."

"No need. We don’t want to trouble you. We’ll just take an Uber." You sniffled again. "She was so full of life when she celebrated her birthday in October."

Sunghoon sighed. "Y/n..." He wished he could be right there beside you, to hold you and offer comfort.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. I need to finish packing quickly. I’ll call you later, okay?”

"Alright," he replied quietly. "Take care on your trip."

"I'll see you in ten days, Hoon. Bye."

"I miss you already," he murmured, but you weren’t able to catch that.

—

Now, four days later, Sunghoon was feeling lost and out of sorts. Their nightly calls were the only thing keeping him sane. His distracted gaze left his phone when he heard a door opening. A moment later, the door cracked open, and his twin sister's face appeared.

"Hey! How's my devilishly charming brother?" Sohyun greeted him with a quick kiss on the cheek. "How's Y/n? I heard her grandmother passed away."

He explained the situation to her.

"So, she won’t be back until next week?" she asked, surprised. "She’ll have a lot of classwork to catch up on."

"Yeah, I know…” he replied, not paying much attention to his sister.

Sohyun gave him a knowing look, but he didn’t notice, his eyes still glued to his phone.

“That explains why you look like that. You miss her already,” she teased.

He turned to her, frowning, and swallowed before answering, “Just a little.”

Sohyun laughed loudly, wrapping an arm around his head and patting his hair. “Aw, my poor brother.”

Annoyed, he pulled away.

“You guys are talking on the phone, right?” she pressed on.

“Of course. Whenever she doesn’t have visitors to entertain and when she has signal connection.” He hadn’t meant to sound bitter, but it slipped out, and Sohyun hugged him again.

“Have you met up with Jake and the others recently?”

He was confused by her question. Since when did his sister take an interest in his friends? “About three weeks ago, why?”

She shrugged. “I just think you should go out with them sometimes. Might keep you from being too… heartbroken—I mean, bored.”

He scowled at his sister, "Cut it out. I'm not in love with her."

She just laughed at his obvious lie and gave his shoulder a pat. He thought he might’ve heard her murmur, "So defensive."

Before he could reply, she added, "Mom and Dad were asking about you, by the way. That’s why I came by. You can meet up with Jake and the others tomorrow instead. Come with me to see them—they’ve been missing us. Shut down your computer, and let’s go visit them together so we can both get the ‘when are you getting married’ talk.”

Sunghoon agreed, feeling that he missed their parents too, along with the great food and warm, cheerful atmosphere at home.

"Please tell me you've found her, son."

They had just finished lunch together—a rare occasion now that both him and his sister had moved out. They really cherished these moments, and their mom had even prepared a special meal, complete with dessert. Now, he and his father were on the porch, enjoying coffee where it was shaded and cool even in the midday heat. Sunghoon watched his father thoughtfully. To him, his dad had always embodied gentle strength, integrity, and inner peace. He admired him deeply for his loyalty to family, especially to his mom. Sunghoon aspired to be like him, but it was one thing to say it and another to live it.

Just finding a woman he could love for life was already proving difficult.

He smiled at his father. "Almost there, Dad.”

His father’s eyes sparkled with warmth. "That's good to hear. It’s better than your usual answer of ‘not yet.’ That’s progress." He gave him a meaningful look. "Have you met someone?"

Sunghoon hesitated, considering whether to mention you. Yes, you were different from anyone else he’d dated, but he didn’t want to raise his dad’s hopes—or his own. It still felt like you both were just testing the waters.

It wasn’t serious at all. It felt more like a casual friendship between him and you, an agreement to meet and get to know each other over twenty-five days. That was all there was to it. It was unrealistic to expect anything more.

Besides, he wasn’t really in love with you. He liked you, cared about you, and enjoyed spending time together. He felt attracted to you; he lusted after you. That was it.

He shrugged. "Same old same, Dad. Just casual dates."

His father patted him on the shoulder. "You said it’s getting closer. That’s good enough for me. Just make sure to introduce her to us, okay?" Sunghoon nodded. "Your mom and I are getting older, and I really want to have a grandchild while I can still carry and chase one around."

The younger man took a sip of coffee from his mug. "You still have Sohyun, Dad."

"It seems more likely to happen if it’s you I’m counting out on."

Sunghoon just smiled. He wondered if his sibling was also like him when it comes to this love thing, pretending to be indifferent but secretly searching for the kind of love their parents had found.

—

"I think Y/n would really like parasailing. We could go to the nearest beach here. She has a lot of lessons to make up for due to her absences. Can I have the contact number?"

They were able to meet up that evening after he returned from his parents' house. Sunghoon glanced up at Jake from his phone, waiting as he took his time dictating the numbers. He noticed his friends staring at him with amused expressions.

He furrowed his brow at them. “The fuck is wrong with you guys?" he asked.

Jay grinned. "You."

Sunghoon’s frown deepened. "Huh?"

"Bro, we're hitting our favorite bar to catch up, talk, and have some drinks," Jay explained. "And if you used to look at these outings as opportunities to find your next date, now all you seem to talk about is 'Y/n this, Y/n that.' Damn, are you in love or something?" He laughed as if to annoy him.

And it indeed annoyed him.

"Did I say something wrong?" Sunghoon’s voice raised slightly.

They had been friends since college and were known as those typical playboys who would change their girlfriends faster then they would change clothes. Now, they were all married, leaving him as the only single one. They knew each other's quirks, but sometimes, small misunderstandings would crop up, especially when they shot him those odd looks.

"Relax, Hoon." Heeseung said. "We’re just a bit thrown off by you, but you’re good. Go on and tell us more about this Y/n and how she brought some color to your otherwise dull and meaningless life." He added a dramatic hand gesture, as if performing a piece of poetry, and that made the guys laugh at their youngest.

Sunghoon scowled. “I’m not in love with her, okay? What’s wrong with you guys?"

"Bro, trust me. You sounded like you were just minutes away from marrying her earlier," Jay interjected. "It’s like you’re just like us now. Everything you used to fight for, you’ve completely forgotten."

He paused, his beer halfway to his lips. "What do you mean?"

"Hoon, to us, you’re the definition of a carefree and independent guy. You’re just chill with your career, love life, and family—enjoying everything without any pressure. You don’t commit to anyone, so you’ve been heartache-free all this time, right? You even take pride in your serial dating. You don’t need a girl, and you’re not shedding any tears over them. You’re single, and you love it. You were the man, Hoon—at least, you used to be," Heeseung explained. "But now, look at you—constantly talking about your Y/n. You seem really attached to her, and you sound like a completely different person. It’s like you’re in love."

He paused for a moment, trying to regain his composure. "You’re just imagining things, Hyung."

His friend shook his head. "There’s nothing wrong with being in love, though. We’re happy for you, of course. We’re just a little surprised."

He forced a smile. "Fuck off. I’m not in love." But even to his own ears, he sounded pathetic, which made him feel uneasy.

Day 18

"Well somebody’s got a different glow today," Daehi commented, watching you in the mirror of the room you were using at your grandmother’s house. It was the same room you used to stay in eight years ago, before you moved to Seoul for college.

You smiled at her. "Liar. Look at how huge my eyebags are."

Daehi moved to stand beside you at the vanity mirror, staring at both of your reflections. "Your eyes are sparkling, I swear. It's like you’re excited to go home or something." She grinned mischievously. "Maybe someone’s waiting for you at the airport? Someone you’ve missed a lot?" She even pinched your side, making you playfully frown at her.

"Look who’s talking—you’re the one with a new guy," you teased, hinting at her frequent phone calls lately. "What’s his name again?"

"Yuno," she said, steering the conversation back to you. "And how are things with Hoon? Should I start addressing him as my ‘brother-in-law’ now?" she asked with a grin.

You shrugged nonchalantly, even though just hearing his name made your heart race. Ten days of only seeing him through your phone made you miss him even more. You couldn’t wait to see, smell, and hold him again.

You sighed. "Same as always."

"Liar," your sister scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Come on, Ican see that sparkle in your eyes. Stop denying it."

You took a deep breath. "Daehi, what we’re doing is just a kind of experiment, not an actual relationship. It’s for research. He just wants to prove he’s right, which is probably why he’s being a little flirty. And I can’t let myself fall for someone who I know won’t reciprocate my feelings. That would be like walking straight into heartbreak. And I’m not stupid.

Your sister's face wrinkled in thought. "Can’t? Sis, I don’t think anyone can decide not to fall in love. It just happens. Sometimes you realize it, but more often, it sneaks up on you… especially when you're busy denying it and convincing yourself it’s all just an experiment."

Her words made you uneasy, but you quickly thought of a comeback. "Oh, really? Since when did you become a love expert? Whose post did you steal that from? Send me the link; I’ll study it."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. You act like I do nothing but scroll online all day." A smirk spread on her face, hinting she was joking. "And for your information, it wasn’t a post. It was a tweet from my favorite writer."

“Yeah, sure.” You both laughed together.

After a moment, you glanced at your wristwatch. "What time are we leaving? The check-in line might be long."

"We're about to leave. We're just waiting for Jiwon. He was the one who wants to tag along, yet he’s taking his sweet time as if no one is waiting," Daehi complained. "So full of himself, too. It’s annoying that he’s on our flight."

You chuckled; Jiwon lived just across the street and had been trying to win you over since high school. Now, he was a lawyer based in Seoul.

“Just let it go. His flirting is harmless, so…” You shrugged.

“But when you and Sunghoon break up next week, don’t you dare give that arrogant guy a chance, okay? He’s gross,” Daehi replied, making a face.

You stopped short, only registering the first part of her statement. Oh, right, today marks Day 18 of your “relationship” with Sunghoon.

Seven days left before you part ways...

A heavy feeling settled in your chest.

—

"It's fine for us to just take a taxi, Jiwon," your father said to the playful puppy accompanying you toward the arrival area.

"No, I won't allow that. I'm sorry, Mr. Yoon. We have a car that can fit all of us and our luggage. Why would you want to commute? It's safer to know who will be driving you, right?"

You couldn't help but jump in. "We have someone picking us up, Won. Sorry." You turned to your parents while tucking your phone into your pocket, where you'd been speaking with your ride. "Sunghoon is waiting for us."

"Oh, good," your mother replied.

Your father beamed widely, and Daehi even clapped. It seemed like they all preferred Sunghoon over the lawyer.

As you stepped outside, an SUV pulled up right on cue. Sunghoon got out and greeted you with a broad smile.

"Welcome back," he said, moving to lift one of the suitcases into the car. You couldn’t take your eyes off him; you really missed him. You were snapped back to reality when he approached you and, as usual, brushed a few strands of hair away from your face. "Ready to go?" he asked softly.

Only then did you realize that all your things were already loaded into the SUV, and your family was seated inside. You glanced back at Jiwon, who stood behind you with a frown.

"We'll head out first. Bye!" You climbed into the passenger seat next to Sunghoon.

As soon as you closed the door, your companions started chiming in, all complaining about the lawyer.

Luke couldn’t help but smile. "You guys really don’t like him, huh?"

They all chimed in with their complaints again.

The guy laughed outright. "He seemed fine when he introduced to me earlier." You were taken aback by that. Had the two guys already met while you were zoning out? Was he meaning to say that you stood there like a fool for a good few minutes?

"Well, maybe he was intimidated by you," your dad joked.

“Other than being a neighbor, what else is your connection to him, if you don’t mind me asking?” Sunghoon asked.

“He’s Y/n’s suitor since high school, and he’s still trying to win her over, even after getting rejected for at least ten times now.”

“Daehi,” you interjected, hoping to prevent any further comments.

“Don’t worry, Sunghoon doesn’t seem like the jealous type at all,” your mischievous little sister teased, laughing.

Your parents chuckled. You glanced at the guy mentioned; he just smiled, seemingly unfazed.

“How was Busan, by the way?” you heard him ask your family in the car.

“It was okay. Many people came to visit and mourned for Mama; it’s clear she was loved by many,” your mom replied. She wasn’t teary-eyed anymore when talking about the elder, unlike during their early days in the province.

“My condolences. I wanted to fly to Busan, but—”

“Oh, that’s really not necessary, Sunghoon. We know you care; you’ve called us several times and even sent flowers, and that’s enough. You don’t need to travel all the way here. It would just be too much of a hassle for you,” your dad said with a smile.

“Anyway, who’s up for some Korean barbecue and bibimbap?” Your mom and sister both raised their hands. You joined in. “Well, it looks like the majority wins, Hoon. I hope that works for you?”

“Sounds great,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the road.

Soon enough, the others in the back began chatting among themselves. Sunghoon turned to you and flashed a smile. “Hi,” he said it cutely, almost in a whisper so that only you could hear.”

“Hello,” you answered.

“How was Busan? Is it the breeze there that made you look even more stunning?”

You grinned at him. “You’re still as flirty as ever,” you whispered back to keep it between the two of you. “Busan was alright. How about you? How have you been?”

“I’m alright. It’s not like i almost died from how much I’ve missed you.”

"Good thing you managed to hold back your laughter, or else your family might have wondered about how loud you were. You discreetly pinched his arm.

"You’re so infuriating," you whispered.

"I missed you,” he replied, earning a sweet smile from you.

—

Sunghoon looked at you while drying the dish you just rinsed. "Are you tired?"

He smiled, and despite your initial hesitation, you found yourself replying, "You've asked that question seven thousand three hundred seventy-eight times. No, Hoon. I’m not tired," you laughed.

He playfully pinched your nose. "I'm just concerned since you just came back from a trip."

"Maybe I'm suffering from jet lag? Is that it?” you replied sarcastically while handing him the last plate.

He laughed, and the sound resonated with you. "How would I know? Maybe the time zone in Busan is different now," he quipped.

You watched as he finished drying the plate. "You might be the one who's tired. You drove, helped with the groceries, chopped ingredients while Mom and I were cooking, and now you're helping me wash the dishes."

They had snacked at a restaurant before stopping by the grocery store to pick up dinner items while still in his company.

After he finished, he looked at you with a serious expression on his handsome face.

“I’m just trying to find a reason to be close to you. I missed you, you know that already.” The excitement hit you unexpectedly, and even though you recognized how cheesy it sounded, you couldn’t help but grin. “You really have a way with those lines, don’t you?”

He made a pout. “Come on, Yoon Y/n, what am I supposed to do with you?” Sunghoon took your hand and dried it with the hand towel resting on the kitchen counter. He also put some sanitizer on both your hands. His touch was gentle, as if your hands were fragile.

He slowly lifted one of your hands to his lips and kissed the back of it. You could feel warmth spread to his face, but you realized you weren’t blushing. It felt like you were just staring at him, completely mesmerized.

With his other hand, he gently caressed your cheek. "Alright, I admit it. I missed you so much that I'm trying to make up for it now."

Your throat felt dry, and you swallowed hard. Without realizing it, you ran your tongue over your lower lip. You noticed that Sunghoon was watching your every move, and he let out a breath as he took in what you did Your knees felt weak when you saw the expression on his face; there seemed to be a fire in his eyes, and his jaw muscles tightened. He leaned closer to you, and your breathing quickened as the distance between you closed.

"God, Y/n," he murmured, almost breathlessly.

Your heart raced as you closed your eyes, waiting for what would happen next.

"Hey, Y/n—,”

You both jumped at the sound of Daehi's voice. You pulled back from Sunghoon, releasing his hand and turning to look at your sister, your eyes wide with surprise.

Daehi paused for a moment, observing you both. After a beat, she broke into an apologetic smile. "Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know."

You felt your face heat up, but you pretended to act casual. "D-do you need something?"

Your sister's teasing gaze lingered on you. "Mom’s looking for her tablet. Did she leave it with you?"

"Ah..." Goodness, your mind seemed to have tangled up, making it hard to think straight. "Yeah. It's in my handbag," you finally replied as your memory kicked in. "Hold on, I'll get it."

You didn’t even glance at Sunghoon before leaving; you just weren’t ready to meet his eyes yet. Shaking your head, you left the two of them behind and headed upstairs to your room, where your bag is located.

—

Sunghoon watched as you walked away to retrieve what your mom needed. He couldn't hide his happiness. The atmosphere in the Yoon household reminded him of his parents' home, and he found himself not wanting to return to his own apartment. He was aware that you could see how he acted like a clingy boyfriend who couldn’t step away from you. Everything he said was genuine, and if he could, he would stay by your side until next week.

He heard Daehi giggling softly and turned to look at her. She was watching him with a playful smile.

"You’re really smitten," she remarked, and she didn’t seem offended by what she had just seen.

He smiled back but didn’t argue with her.

"I can tell the feelings are mutual. I’m really happy for you both. The more I see you together, the more convinced I am that you’re a perfect match."

Sunghoon chuckled. "Thanks, Daehi."

"Anytime, brother," she replied with a laugh. She gave him a light hug and playfully nudged him. "Let’s go wait for Y/n in the living room. Mom is already there."

Sunghoon spent hours chatting with your family about various topics while gradually feeling sleepy.

"What I've learned from this business is that life is short. No one is invincible to death, and no one can escape when their time is up," Mr. Yoon said. "I've heard so many stories from those who lost loved ones, regretting not having told them how much they loved them before it was too late."

"I still remember my first client, a twenty-one-year-old man who was about to graduate as the top of his class in just a month," you shared. "His mother was devastated because he was their hope. They were struggling; his mother was a seamstress, and his father was a plumber. Companies were already lined up to hire him upon graduation. But suddenly, while walking on their street, he was hit by a car driven by a drunk driver, and that was it." You shrugged. "All of his family's dreams went up in smoke. I can never forget that."

A moment of silence fell over the group as everyone absorbed the gravity of what they had just heard.

"And we must also remember that we can't take any material possessions with us when we die," your mom chimed in. "That's why I always remind Y/n about this."

"Mom," you said with a calm tone, widening your eyes slightly, as if already guessing what she was about to say.

"She doesn’t need to keep studying, working, and building up wealth," your mom continued as though she hadn’t heard you. "She can’t take her diplomas or money to the grave. What he should really focus on is finding a life partner."

Sunghoon chuckled as you groaned, hiding your face. "Mom, please…"

"What? Am I wrong?" she protested. "Look at you, you treat dating like it’s just another adventure. It’s a good thing you met her, dear," she said, turning to Sunghoon. "At least I know there’s someone decent who’ll care for him if something happens to us."

"Mom, you and Dad are still young. You're not going anywhere," you objected. "And I’m only twenty-five—there’s no need to rush.”

Amused by how cute you looked, Sunghoon couldn’t resist pinching your cheek.

"When I was your age, I already had two kids," your mom remarked, glancing at your dad, who had his eyes closed. She sighed. "Alright, I’m heading upstairs. It looks like your dad’s already out for the night."

“I’m still awake,” your dad mumbled.

“Oh, come on, it’s time to get to bed,” your mom said as she stood to give Sunghoon a quick hug. “We’ll leave you two now, dear. Thanks for picking us up at the airport and spending the day with us. Make sure to come back more often, alright? Good night!” She turned to your dad. “Come on.”

Your dad gave Sunghoon a smile as they walked toward the stairs. “Leaving you in the care of my two girls, Sunghoon. I’m ready to call it a night.”

“No problem, sir,” he replied.

“I’ll head up, too—Yuno’s calling me,” Daehi added, giving you both a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll leave you two love birds alone. Enjoy!”

Now, it was just the two of you. Sunghoon looked at you. “Are you tired?”

“Do you want to head home?” you asked back.

Honestly, he’d prefer to just stay here if he could. But he shook his head. “If you’re not tired yet, I’d like to stay. Just kick me out when you’re ready to call it a night.”

You smiled. “Let’s hold off for a bit, then.”

“Alright, let’s talk.” He moved a bit closer, gently taking your hand.

“You know, I think I live by the same ‘life is short’ motto your parents mentioned. I get that life is brief, so I’d rather make the most of it. No sense in wasting it on worries.”

Absentmindedly, you played with your entwined hands. "For me, life is indeed short, but it’s also an adventure. It’s brief, so I’m reaching for all my dreams while I still can… while there’s still time."

He turned to face you. “Your father’s right. We should tell people how we feel while we still have time,” he said, making you pause, eyes widening. “So let me say this: I missed you, Y/n.”

Some emotion flickered across your face before you smiled. Was that disappointment? “I missed you, too.”

Sunghoon gazed at you, taking in your features. Your face looked radiant in any light, your smile bright, eyes sparkling. Your heart pounded in your chest, a fluttery feeling rising in your stomach.

He cleared his throat, as if he’d just decided something. “And because life is short,” he said in a low voice, “I’m going to take this chance while I still can.” He gently cupped your face and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

He had expected you to pull away, maybe even push him back, but your reaction surprised him. You kissed him back, your lips moving perfectly in sync with his.

Sunghoon’s knees nearly buckled, as if all his strength had drained away. He leaned in, deepening the kiss, and you allowed him without a second thought, matching his every move. He let out a soft, deep sound. You tasted faintly of the creamy coffee you'd had earlier… and something sweet he couldn’t quite place. Your lips were incredibly soft, and the smoothness of your cheek beneath his fingers only heightened the experience.

If only he had known it would feel like this, he would have done it on the very first day you both met.

Reluctantly, he broke the kiss and opened his eyes to look at you. Your eyes were still closed, lips slightly parted, as if you were waiting for more. And who was he to say no? He leaned in again, kissing you once more. It took him a moment longer before he finally managed to pull away.

He rested his forehead against yours. "I think it's time for me to go," he said, still catching his breath.

"Wait, what?" you replied, a bit stunned as you pulled back to look into his eyes. "I thought—"

"If I don't head out now, I might just do something impulsive," he said with a knowing smile.

Your eyes widened, and though he couldn’t see the blush, he felt the warmth radiate from your cheeks through his hands.

He pressed a firm kiss to your forehead before reluctantly stepping back and getting to his feet.

Day 19

"Tough luck, huh?” you said as the rain suddenly poured down while you both were on your way to Incheon.

The night before, you had walked Sunghoon to his car….

—

As he opened the door, he smiled at you. "I’ll see you tomorrow. Let’s go out."

You hesitated. "I’ve got a research paper I need to finish. It’s a special project my professor assigned as a substitute for the exams I missed last week."

He paused for a moment, thinking, then grinned. "Alright, how about we just go to a nearby beach? Maybe Eurwangni, near Incheon. You can work on your paper by the shore, and I’ll even help you out. Sound good?"

You smiled, endeared by his persistent charm.

"Alright, fine. See you then."

With a final kiss on your lips, he got into his car, leaving you with a smile as he drove off.

—

And now, here you were. The rain poured down like a storm, with strong winds accompanying it, prompting him to turn on the radio. It was then that you both found out a typhoon was on the way.

"Hmm, is this a sign that we should just go back and cuddle instead?" Sunghoon joked, grinning at you.

At the twinkle in your eyes, your cheeks flushed, and your imagination raced with various scenarios of Sunghoon lying in bed with you. You mentally scolded yourself; you had been like this since last night, with all sorts of thoughts suddenly surfacing—some of them rather steamy. It was partly his fault, too. That kiss he had given you before you parted ways had stirred up those thoughts. You had barely slept for two hours because of it.

Now, sitting beside him, your awareness of his presence felt intensified, as if the warmth radiating from your body was reaching out to him.

Your mouth felt dry, and your heart raced every time your eyes met his. You’d rather not think about the sensations stirring between your thighs.

This is getting out of hand.

"Y/n?" You felt Sunghoon’s gentle finger tapping your cheek. "Are you okay?"

You met his gaze while pretending not to notice the familiar sensations you were experiencing.

"Huh?" you replied, a little flustered. "Y-you were saying something?"

He furrowed his brow but didn’t comment on your odd behavior. "I was saying, do you want to work on your research at my place? It’s closer than heading back to your house. I think by this afternoon the storm will have passed, and the rain won’t be as heavy."

You couldn't answer right away. You knew that the guy lived alone, which meant you would have the place to yourselves. Plus, the weather was chilly because of the storm.

And there goes your naughty imagination once again...

You shut your eyes, trying to control your feelings.

"But if you're not comfortable, we can just go back to your place," Sunghoon said.

"W-we might get stranded on the road. Let’s just go to your pad. You can drop me off later when the rain eases up. I’ll just call my mom so she won't worry.

"Alright then,”

You nodded in response. And just within a few minutes later, you finally arrived at his place and started drying off. You had gotten a little wet from the rain when you exited the car.

“Here, wear this while we dry your clothes,” he said, handing you a towel along with a white t-shirt and boxer shorts. Which you gladly took from him.

“Thanks,” you replied. “Is it okay if I go to the bathroom first?”

“Of course, go ahead.”

The bathroom was clean and featured a modern, minimalist design that was just right for a young man like Sunghoon. You quickly dried off and changed into the clothes. The t-shirt was quite big, but the fabric felt comfortable against you.

When you stepped out, you saw Sunghoon in the kitchen, checking what was inside the refrigerator.

“Is there anything to eat in there?” you asked.

He turned to face you, and a look of appreciation lit up his eyes when he saw you. “Wow! That looks great on you,” he said, gesturing toward the clothes you were wearing.

Feeling a bit self-conscious, you glanced down. “The fabric feels really nice. Can I just keep this shirt?”

“Sure, go ahead,” he replied, then added quietly, “You've been taking my sanity since day one, anyway, so what's a shirt?”

You lifted your head, surprised by his comment. “What was that?”

He shook his head and quickly changed the topic. “I have ingredients for kimchi jjigae here, minus the tofu. Is that okay with you? Or would you rather order lunch instead?

“You can really cook?” you asked as you moved closer to look inside the refrigerator.

He took out a bag of kimchi and set it in a bowl. "Well, I haven’t experienced being confined to the hospital because of my cooking—at least, not yet." he said with a shrug and a smile. “I wanted to impress you and make something fancy, but this is all I have in my fridge.”

“Wow!” you laughed. “It’s fine, there’s always a next time. You can impress me another day.”

You were about to step beside him to help when you remembered your research project. “Oh, sorry. I’d love to help, but I just remembered my research.”

“It’s alright.” He gave you a light kiss on the top of your head and began slicing the green onions. “Go on, get to it. I’ll call you when the food’s ready.”

For the next few minutes, the two of you focused on your own tasks while the rain continued to pour outside. Every now and then, you’d steal a glance at him, amused by how absorbed he was in his cooking when a knock on the door interrupted both of you.

“I’ll get it,” Sunghoon said, quickly moving to open the door ahead of you.

“Hoonie, I really need your help!” came an overly dramatic painful in the ear voice.

“Yuri!” he said, surprised. “What’s wrong?”

You watched them curiously from a distance.

“There’s something making a creaking noise on my roof, and you’re the only person I feel close to here,” she said, grabbing onto his arm. She was wearing shorts so short they looked like underwear and a tight shirt that hugged her noticeably full chest. “Could you take a quick look? I’m worried it might blow away with this storm. Is that okay?”

Sunghoon looked back at you with a questioning expression.

“Oh, you have company,” she said, waving at you in an overly friendly manner. “Sorry about that! I’m Yuri, Hoonie’s neighbor and friend.”

"Hi, I’m Y/n," you replied with a polite smile.

"Is it okay if I borrow him for a bit? I really need his help," she said in that same high-pitched tone that was beginning to grate on your nerves. So, you just nodded quickly, "No problem." Then you looked over at Sunghoon and smiled. "I’ll keep an eye on your cooking too.”

“I’ll be right back!” Hoon had said before being pulled away by the woman, whose presence somehow left you feeling a bit annoyed.

It wasn’t that you had any issues with women who dress a bit provocatively—it’s their choice. But there was just something about this one that got under your skin. She seemed to have a flirtatious edge in everything she did and said. And yes, even the way she dressed felt like it was designed to grab Hoon’s attention.

You’re overthinking things, Y/n…

You told yourself.

Still, you couldn’t shake off the sense that, if Sunghoon were to start dating someone else after you’re done with this 25-day dating thing you had with him, Yuri would be the first to jump at the chance.

You pushed away the negative feelings and stood up from the couch to check on Hoon’s cooking. Everything was simmering nicely, with the heat on low to keep things from overcooking. You also noticed the rice cooker was on, and it looked like he had started preparing dessert—given the slices of fruits he had set aside along with a can of Sprite. Impressive for someone you considered your “pseudo” date; he wasn’t just all handsome but also knew his way around the kitchen. Whoever ends up marrying that guy will be damn heck of a lucky woman.

You went ahead and continued setting up lunch.

Just as you finished, the door opened, and Sunghoon stepped inside, shirtless and soaked from the rain.

What a combo…

You quickly ran to grab the towel he had used earlier and handed it to him. "What happened to you?" you asked, feeling your breath hitch as you took him in.

Your eyes couldn't help but wander over his bare form, dressed now in only his shorts. His body was lean and muscular, his skin glistening with rainwater. He looked hard everywhere—from the sharp lines of his jawline to his shoulders, pecs, arms, and abs…

Honestly, just looking at his torso made you feel full. Lunch suddenly felt optional.

You decided not to let your gaze drift any lower from his abs; no need to find anything else that might be, well… hard.

"Sorry, I took a while. Turns out there was more to fix on Yuri’s roof than I expected." Without seeming to notice your gaze, he handed you his wet shirt and began drying himself off. "Are you hungry?"

Then he looked at you, really looked at you, and there it was—the realization. His smile faded, and a spark ignited in his eyes as he noticed the effect he was having on you.

You swallowed unconsciously, feeling your breath hitch. He must’ve seen a different kind of hunger in your eyes—probably noticed that your hands were itching to touch his chest, his abs, his arms. Your heart pounded even harder as he took a slow, deliberate step toward you. Your knees practically turned to jelly under the weight of his intense, half-lidded gaze.

He raised a hand, lightly brushing his thumb across your cheek. But before you could even react, he brought his thumb to his lips, tasting whatever he had wiped away from your face.

"Condensed milk? What kind of dessert are you making?" His tone was casual, but his gaze burned as it lingered on you.

Jerk…

"Uh..." You swallowed, trying to keep your composure. "It’s… it’s nothing. You can try it later."

"Can’t wait," he murmured, though the way he looked at your lips suggested he had something else in mind he’d like to taste. "I’m gonna go shower again."

He left, and you finally let out a breath. It was only then you realized the wet shirt in your hands was now soaking your legs. With a sigh, you went to the laundry area to dry it up.

When Sunghoon returned, he mentioned feeling cold, which was obvious given he was wrapped up in a thick sweatshirt and jogging pants. Having a meal together and some hot soup seemed to help him feel a bit better, and he really enjoyed the hwachae dessert you’d made.

But soon enough, he was back to feeling unwell, lying on the couch next to you under a heavy blanket. You’d already given him some medicine for the flu.

Gently, you ran your fingers through his hair. "Why didn’t that Yuri just call a carpenter?" you muttered irritably. "Now look—you’re sick because of her."

"She couldn’t get a carpenter out there in this storm," he replied, voice slightly hoarse.

"That’s exactly my point! It’s storming, and she still had you go up on the roof! What if a lightning struck you?” you scolded.

Sunghoon opened his eyes, giving you a playful smile. “I don’t think it was her intention to get me hurt or sick. I think she just wanted to see me soaked, with my shirt sticking to me. I even took it off for her sake. Poor girl’s been trying so hard with her charms.”

You playfully tugged his hair. “You’re such a flirt. You knew exactly what she was doing, yet you still played along.”

He chuckled. “I’ve made it pretty clear to Yuri in plenty of ways that I’m not interested. She just doesn’t give up, so I let it go.” You felt a hint of satisfaction at that, though you tried not to show it. “But why not? She’s beautiful, has smooth skin, and, well… she’s got curves.”

He gave a subtle, meaningful smile. “I’m a lot more drawn to a certain sexy embalmer.”

Your cheeks warmed, leaving you momentarily speechless.

"Just let me know if you want to go home. I can still give you a ride," he murmured, his gaze soft on you.

You shook your head as you finished packing up your laptop. "No, Hoon. I don’t want you taking any risks.”

“No, really, I’ll drive you.”

“Should I call Sohyun? Maybe she can come over so you’re not alone.” You remembered Sohyun lived nearby.

He closed his eyes, looking a bit sleepy. “She’s out of town with her fellow teachers. She won’t be back until next week.”

“Oh, right,” you said. “I called home earlier, and Mom warned she’d shave my head if I left you here alone while you’re still unwell.”

“Really?” He let out a soft laugh. “Don’t tell me you two are already planning on trapping me into marriage?”

“Wow, the ego,” you chuckled as he shifted closer until his head rested in your lap. “I’d be up for it… just not when I’m this defenseless.” He took your hand and held it to his cheek. “Just wait until the medicine kicks in, then I’ll give you my full cooperation with the whole marriage plot.” He closed his eyes, finally settling in.

You chuckled softly. "You're really something."

For a few moments, you let yourself simply stare at his face as he lay there, eyes closed, resting his cheek in the warmth of your hand. A soft smile appeared on your lips. There was a sense of peace within you. You felt content, happy to be someone he needed—even if just for now, even if only for today. But that happiness was tinged with sadness, knowing you’d have to step back soon, and someone else might take your place, offering the comfort you could only give for a limited time.

That thought settled heavily in your heart, bringing a quiet ache you were already feeling now.

————

Day 20

Sunghoon woke up in the early hours feeling significantly better. And his mood lifted even more when he opened his eyes to find your face inches from his, both of you tucked together tightly on the sofa. The air was still chilly from the rain that drizzled outside, quieter now than the night before.

"Go back to sleep, it's only a little past two," you murmured, brushing a hand gently over his hair.

He furrowed his brow, hearing a slight edge in your tone, and his eyes searched yours more closely. "Have you been crying?" he asked, concerned.

You shook your head with a faint smile, but that didn’t ease the worry in his gaze. Something felt off. He started to rise, wanting to get a better look at you, but your hands held his face tenderly.

“Your fever’s gone. How are you feeling?” you asked, your voice soft.

He took a moment to assess himself. "Better. Thank you for staying with me."

You smiled before pulling his face down, kissing him. The moment his lips met yours, his body reacted instinctively. He could feel heat spreading through him. You deepened the kiss, your lips brushing softly against his, until he parted his mouth and your tongue slipped in, drawing a groan from him. Sparks seemed to ignite along every nerve.

You shifted to pull him closer, one of your hands roaming under his sweatshirt, skimming over his chest with warm, gentle strokes that had his breath hitching. He was overwhelmed by the softness of your touch.

He pulled back, panting, trying to regain control, but you just trailed your lips down his jaw and to his neck. "We need to stop," he whispered, though his hands betrayed him, tracing down your back and sides. You felt so warm beneath his touch, every inch of him aching to feel more.

"Sunghoon..." you murmured, lifting the edge of his sweatshirt. "Please."

He finally gave in to you and himself. He reached for your face and kissed you again on the lips. Every movement was heated, and it felt like there was something he wanted to say. He pulled away slightly from your lips. You groaned, protesting.

“Y/N, don’t do this, baby, please. I might do something we’ll both regret.” He nuzzled your neck and gave it a playful lick. You bit your lower lip, but a moan still escaped as you arched your back, giving him space for what he was doing.

Breathless, he lowered his head and traced your collarbone with his lips and tongue, moving back to your neck and jaw. You moaned aloud.

And shit, he was aroused like he had never felt before. And it had only been a few kisses that you shared in that moment.

“Y/N…” he whispered in your ear before giving it a small bite. “Tell me to stop. Please.” He needed you to refuse, to push him away and act uninterested. But your reaction was the opposite. You were responsive, so sweet, so soft and warm...

You reached for both sides of his head and gazed at him from beneath your heavy eyelids. “I won’t regret anything, I promise,” you murmured, caressing his lips. “Please, Sunghoon. I need this. I need you. Kiss me.”

The throaty quality in your voice did it. Or maybe it was your soft, fragrant body splayed over him. Or the hazy desire in your eyes. Or your scent. Maybe it was your zeal despite the innocence in your kisses. It could also be everything about you.

The rain continued to pour outside, but neither of you felt cold.

Sunghoon moved to stand up, quickly carrying you to his room. He kissed you on the lips and allowed the two of you to tumble onto the bed. You bumped into each other a bit and burst into laughter. But your smiles faded when you locked eyes. He caressed your cheek. “Are you sure you know what we’re going to do?”

You rolled your eyes and punched him in the arm. “What do you think I am, five?”

You laughed, but it sounded different—tense, full of desire that was desperately trying to escape you. “I’m just making sure. Are you really sure about this? You can still back out. Just say the word anytime.”

You looked at him, a soft, heart-wrenching emotion in your eyes. “I’m sure. Stop being annoying. I want this. I want to be yours tonight. I want to make love with you.”

It was like gasoline that ignited the fire within him even more. His knees shook, and his heart raced.

“Oh, God,” he said, almost moaning.

He was sure he did not do anything to deserve this.

—

A spark lit up in Sunghoon's eyes when he heard you. Then, he was on you—kissing your lips, your neck, your jaw; his hands roaming, pressing against your chest over the fabric of your shirt, gripping your waist and hips. Neither of you even remembered the storm raging outside. You were both too lost in the heat you were creating, the passion between the two of you.

He tugged at the bottom of your shirt. "Let's take this off. I want to see you." You sat up, helping him lift it off, along with your bra.

Lying back down, you bit your lip, but couldn't suppress the soft, inviting sound that slipped from your throat as he traced his hand down from your neck to your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your shorts. He slipped them off, gazing at you with a searing look. “Oh, God,” he murmured, breathless. “You’re beautiful.”

Your back arched instinctively under his heated gaze, an involuntary response. “Sunghoon…”

Feeling your urgency, he reached behind his neck, pulling his sweatshirt over his head.

He stood up, removing his joggers and boxers, then reached into a drawer, grabbing a foil packet and placing it on the side table

The bed creaked as he lay back down on his side, cupping your face to kiss you again. You let your hands drop to caress his chest and shoulders. He felt hot and firm everywhere, making every feminine part of you tremble in anticipation. He kneaded your breast, taking one peak into his mouth, and your body shuddered as you moaned his name. It felt like every inch of you was vibrating, heating up. You cradled his head to pull him closer as he teasingly slid his tongue over the skin of your breast before taking the other stiff peak into his mouth.

Good lord, you weren’t prepared for this.

It was too... divine.

You gasped when you felt his other hand exploring between your thighs, where you were wet and eager. You tried to squeeze your thighs together, but he gently pushed them apart. Then he was touching your most intimate area, sliding a finger along your drenched slit.

“Oh, my God, Sunghoon…” you called out, unable to explain what you were feeling. It was as if you were about to melt or explode.

“So sweet, so soft. I want to lick you all over,” he murmured in your ear. He kissed you passionately as his hand continued to move.

You tore your mouth away from his and moaned loudly as you felt his finger gently slipping inside you. Your body moved on its own, trembling with pleasure. “Oh fuck…”

Breathless, he lowered his head back to your chest. He captured one peak and lightly bit it, causing a low shout to escape your lips. Then, his hand moved faster, and every muscle in your body tensed at the delicious sensation.

Your eyes widened as you stared at Sunghoon’s face, watching him with a hot, serious expression. He looked so fucking hot. And this same gorgeous man was touching you intimately... and he seemed to be enjoying it.

“Fuck, Sunghoon!” you called out.

“Yes,” he whispered, his gaze locked onto you, his jaw clenched as he held back his own desires. You let go, your mouth opening in a silent gasp, but no sound came out. Your entire body trembled in fulfillment.

Before you could recover, Sunghoon kissed you hotly. His hands moved to put on what was needed to protect you both. He was determined to take you completely. He kissed you passionately while gently making his entrance, and the pleasure-pain brought tears to your eyes.

“You okay, baby?” he asked, stopping immediately. There was a sense of pride in his voice, knowing he was the first person you had completely surrendered to. “Can you handle more?”

“W-wait,” you replied, filled with emotion. This was the moment. You had fully given yourself to Sunghoon.

“You feel so good,” he said, showering your face and neck with kisses. “It’s never felt like this before.” His lips trailed down to your chest, kissing you before you could even respond. Your muscles twitched, and beads of sweat formed on your skin. Then, you felt him nibbling at your flesh.

You called his name in a breathy whisper.

He groaned and took one of your stiff peaks into his warm mouth. A long moan escaped you as your body arched, matching the way your internal muscles squeezed around him. Sunghoon let out a loud groan. “Shit, Y/n! Don’t! You’re driving me crazy,” he exclaimed, feeling himself stiffen against you, struggling to maintain control.

“Sunghoon,” you called out, unsure of what to say. “Just get on with it!”

Despite the slick sweat and the effort it took to move, he chuckled. “So bossy,” he teased in a raspy voice. You smiled, but it quickly vanished as he moved slowly inside you, showering your chest with kisses while whispering your name.

Breathless, you tightened your legs around his waist. You shuddered with each movement he made, letting out sounds you would usually find embarrassing, but right now, you didn’t care. Sunghoon let out a low, rough breath, and you thought the sound was incredibly sexy. Desperately, you called his name, almost begging him to give you what you needed—and he did.

Your hands clung tightly to his shoulders, your muscles tensing as you finally reached your peak. Colors exploded behind your closed eyelids, warmth spreading through every fiber of your being. He kept moving for a few more moments, then reached his own climax. Catching your breath and covered in sweat, you slowly returned to reality.

When you opened your eyes, you were greeted by Sunghoon’s smiling face. “Ah, Y/n. You’re going to be the death of me.”

“That was amazing,” you murmured with a smile.

Something about your words must have ignited something in him because you saw the fire in his eyes reignite. Your eyes widened as you felt him begin to harden again inside you.

“Fuck, Y/n…” he whispered, before covering your mouth with his in a deep kiss, not giving you a chance to say anything else.

—

It was nearly noon when Sunghoon woke up, hours later than usual. The first thing he did was reach over, searching for you beside him. But when his hand touched only mattress and blankets, his eyes flew open. You were nowhere to be found.

Panic rising, he got up quickly and checked the bathroom. Empty.

He stepped out of the room. “Y/n?” he called, but there was no sign of you in the kitchen or the living room. Even your bag and laptop was gone. Grabbing his phone, he dialed your number, but no one answered.

It was Sunday—maybe you were attending church and had your phone on silent, which would explain why you hadn’t noticed his calls. With a sigh, he set his phone aside and went back to the bedroom. You’d probably left early to ease your parents’ concerns. He decided he’d just drop by your house later to invite you to dinner. For now, he needed to focus on his work, confident that he’d see you soon. Just a little more patience.

All day, Sunghoon kept trying to reach you with calls and texts, but there was still no answer. He thought maybe it was a network issue or perhaps your phone had run out of battery.

Either way, he reassured himself he’d see you soon.

With anticipation, he showered, dressed carefully, and bought a bouquet of roses matching the color of the dress you wore when you first met, along with your favorite chocolates. While in traffic, he called a nice restaurant to reserve a table for two.

Tonight, he was going to ask you to date him exclusively, officially. He figured you might be taken aback, but he’d explain that he didn’t want any time limits on being with you anymore. Excitement filled him—until it quickly turned to worry when he arrived at your house, and you weren’t there. Your mom told him you’d gone out of town but didn’t say where.

Sunghoon tried to stay calm, reasoning that you’d return soon. You had school, and it was too early for you to miss more days, especially since you’d just come back from Busan.

Yet a deep, sudden fear settled inside him.

———

Day 24

“Something othering you?” Sohyun called out as she approached Sunghoon from behind.

Sunghoon saved his work and turned to look at his twin.

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

“You’re being way too serious over there.” She came closer to check out the drawing of a woman for his current erotica book project. “That’s cute! What’s the title?”

“The Ethical Manwhore. It’s your typical plot— the main character is a player who meets a naive girl and falls in love with her.”

Sohyun’s eyes lit up. “That actually sounds interesting since he’s described as ethical—meaning he has some standards. Let me know when it’s out; I want to buy a copy.”

In a way, his sister's banters lightened the weight he was feeling.

“I brought you a little something; you and Y/n can share it.” And just like that, his small joy vanished into thin air.

“T-thanks,” Sunghoon replied with a smile. But if his sister weren’t so perceptive, she wouldn’t have noticed that his smile was forced. They were too close, i mean—they’re practically twins, for her to miss that.

“You look troubled. Is something wrong?” He turned to face his computer, trying to avoid her gaze.

“Just stressed about work.”

She didn’t respond, and he heard her walk over to the sofa, her favorite spot facing him.

“How’s Y/n?”

There it was—the question he had been dreading to answer. He shrugged.

“Did something happen?”

He hesitated before answering, “I don’t know,” he cleared his throat before he continued, “I haven’t seen her in four days. She might have gone out of town.”

“Really?” Sohyun went silent. When he glanced over her, she was already busy with her phone. With a sigh, he returned to his work from the previous days; that was all his life revolved around—his work and trying to contact you. He had nearly given up on the latter yesterday because he felt like a fool.

He had visited the Yoon house several times but never caught you at home. According to your mom, you were busy with a group project, which is why you were always away. He couldn’t even count how many texts he had sent you or how many times he called. He knew you were a free spirit and loved to be spontaneous, traveling everywhere, but if he meant something to you, couldn’t you at least send a reply?

Sunghoon was feeling frustrated, sad, and worried. He was missing you badly.

“Oh, wait. Seems like she’s in Jeju,” Sohyun suddenly said, interrupting his thoughts. “Someone tagged her on IG.” She was about to show him the phone when she quickly pulled it away. “Oh, wait—never mind. Must’ve overlooked it.”

His brow furrowed. “What was that? Let me see.”

“Forget it,” his sister said, keeping the phone out of reach.

“Come on, Sohyun! I just want to see.” He reached for her hand, but she dodged him and stood up from the sofa.

“Forget it, Sunghoon!”

“Sohyun, please just let me see,” he urged. He didn’t have an Instagram account, so he couldn’t check it himself.

“Sunghoon, stop it! It’s not for you to look at.” Her tone reminded him of their childhood when their parents would cover their eyes during romantic scenes in movies. Especially when it involved kissing. This only made him more curious. “Why not? What is it?” They engaged in a playful tug-of-war over the phone.

But since he was taller and stronger, he managed to overpower her. He shot her a glare and glanced at the screen, where he saw a picture of you in a black bikini top and denim shorts, holding a surfboard, with a picturesque backdrop of sand, sea, and sky… and Jiwon beside you with his arm wrapped around your shoulder.

It has as caption that says,

Learning surfing is way more fun when your instructor is this gorgeous. 😩

And below it was a mention,

my @yo.on_y/n 💕

Which the post received at least a thousand likes and numerous teasing comments. He checked the date of the post—it was from Sunday, the day he had started losing contact with you.

Frustrated, he handed the phone back to his sister.

“I told you not to look at it,” she said.

Without responding, he left her on the sofa and turned his attention back to his computer.

“Your twenty-five days together are over, right?” she said after a moment. “So, you’re probably not jealous that she’s with someone else, right?”

Sunghoon closed his eyes to keep himself from snapping at his sister. He was starting to take back what he said about her being perceptive when it came to him; clearly, that wasn’t true.

“Jiwon’s fine, though. I’ve met him, actually. He’s mature, not commitment-phonic, and he’s liked Y/n for a long time—since high school—.”

“Yeah, I’m thrilled for them. Excuse me, but I have a work to finish.” He put his earbuds in and turned up a loud song to drown out anything else his sister might say.

“There’s some leftover ramen in the fridge. Just heat it up if you’re hungry,” he added.

—

Sunghoon stood up from the sofa when the door of your house opened, and you stepped inside. He’d been coming by every afternoon for days, waiting for a chance to see you, and finally, he’d caught you.

You were dressed in a plain t-shirt, denim shorts, sneakers, and carried a large backpack. The surprise was clear on your face as you saw him. “Oh, hi,” you greeted him.

“The tan suits you,” he managed to say. “How was Jeju?”

“It was okay.” You set your bag down on the coffee table, keeping your eyes lowered. He could almost see you struggling to find the right words.

He wanted to confront you. Was group project for now a code for surfing in Jeju with a guy that’s pursuing you? or worse, dating you? how the fuck would he know?

“Can we talk?” he asked.

You looked at him for a moment.

“Let’s go to the café nearby,” you finally agreed. “I’ll just tell Mom.”

You went to the kitchen, where your mother was preparing a snack for you. Sunghoon took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He couldn’t explain his feelings—nervous and tense, as if something was squeezing his chest and throat, making it hard to breathe. He was beyond anxious.

Soon, you returned without changing or even freshening up.

“Let’s go,” you said, avoiding his gaze.

The short drive to the café was silent. You only spoke once you were seated with your drinks, exchanging an awkward greeting. You mentioned that you had returned from Jeju since Monday and had just come from a groupmate’s house to work on a project.

He only gave a slight nod in response.

It felt as though you two had turned back into strangers, and for Sunghoon, it was like a knife piercing his heart.

“S-so,” you eventually spoke up, breaking the awkward silence, “was there something we needed to talk about?”

Something burst within him, and he couldn’t hold back the bitterness any longer. “Well, I thought you’d at least have the decency to break things off with me properly,” he said.

You flinched as if he’d struck you, then gave him a bitter smile. “Do we really need an official ending? Isn’t it automatic after the twenty-five days are up?”

“It’s not twenty-five days yet, Y/n. Do you need a calendar? We’re only on Day 24.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Oh, so we’re supposed to break up tomorrow? Sorry, I guess I lost track on my counting.”

Sunghoon felt his frustration rise at your tone. Why were you being sarcastic? Why did it feel like you were the one who’s upset here?

“You left me after Day 20. You owe me four more days. You need to date me for those four days.” He knew he sounded childish, but he didn’t know how else to bridge the gap between you two. You might think he’d lost his mind by now, but he didn’t care.

“What?” you laughed, clearly confused. “Sunghoon, those are just the technicalities. We were going to break up anyway; that was already decided. What difference does it make if it’s Day 20 or Day 2? We would still end up breaking up.” You suddenly stood up, and he instinctively grabbed your arm before you could leave.

“No, Y/n, we can’t just end it like this.”

“What’s wrong with you?” you snapped, then, realizing you were in public, you lowered your voice. “Fine. You want a proper breakup? Here it is—I’m officially breaking up with you, Park Sunghoon. Goodbye.” You yanked your arm from his grip and walked out without a backward glance. He was stunned as he watched you leave the café. He frustratedly slammed his clenched fist onto the table.

He knew he’d said something wrong. He was sure of it….

a/n: continuation is posted on my timeline 🫶🏻

[lunaritex]

CHASING REDEMPTION. . .ᐟ — kinich.

᱖ content: modern+spiderman au, established relationship, reader is gender-neutral, both reader and kinich are in college, reader knows kinich's true identity, angst with comfort, happy ending dw.

᱖ from hye: ever since i saw this one edit of peter parker jumping down to save gwen… i knew what i had to do, except there is a small twist at the end. @kazuhaiku

Kinich swore he had planned the entire process in his mind. Everything was in place and all he needed was to be mentally and physically prepared to tell you the truth. But no matter how many plans he came up with, he did not take into account how a sudden robbery happened, resulting in him having to leap into action. He did not take into account how the robbery was not what it seems, with the robbers more than prepared to stand their grounds. They were armed with dangerous weapons that one could only obtain through illegal means. 

One thing led to another and he ended up arriving hours later than the agreed time. Kinich arrived at the agreed venue for your date and he was not surprised to spot no sign of you. He pointedly ignored the pitiful look the staff threw his way when he left in a hurry. Not wanting to waste anymore time, he used his spiderwebs to zip across the sky, turning a blind eye to how some people stopped to glance at him. 

It took him exactly five minutes to arrive at the balcony of your apartment. He nimbly landed on his feet, peering through the windows as his eyes furiously scanned your room. He swore his heart shattered when he saw a lump laying on the bed, covered with a blanket from head to toe. 

Knock knock. Knock knock. 

You raised your head when you heard someone knocking on your window, revealing your swollen eyes and tearstained face. You frowned when you realized it was your boyfriend. A part of you wants to leave him outside but you knew he was too stubborn for his own good. Surrendering, you unreluctantly crawled out of bed and moved to the window stand, unlocking the lock and slid it open. Shivers ran down your spine when the freezing wind grazed your skin. 

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be busy saving the city or something?” You asked, the sarcasm dripping in your tone made Kinich winced. 

Normally, you would have felt remorse at how you snapped at him but you have had enough. Clenching and unclenching your fists, you looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Look, I’m not in the mood to talk to you right now. You can come back another time-”

“No, I know you’re mad at me and I want to talk about it now,” he interrupted.

And that was the final straw. 

“It’s always all about you, you, you! When have you ever thought about me!? I bet the thought of me sitting in a cafe or restaurant, waiting for my boyfriend for hours, only for him to never turn up has never crossed your mind! Do you know how downright humiliating it is for me to leave and how I have to tolerate the sympathy glances thrown my way, as I walk out of the place? I know you’re doing a good deed by saving the city but sometimes, I wish you could set aside some time for me.” 

Your voice cracked like a whip, startling Kinich into silence. The fire in your eyes was undeniable, a mix of betrayal and exasperation. He tried to respond but you didn’t let him. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this. It feels like you don’t even care about me anymore and this relationship is starting to feel one-sided,” your voice grew a notch softer, exhaustion evident in your voice; as if you had already given up trying to fight for something that was no longer there anymore. 

“If you’re not going to say anything, then I think it’s best to end this. Goodbye Kinich and I wish you the best of luck,” you forced a teary-eyed smile at him, sliding the door closed and pulling the curtains, not wanting to see him a second longer. 

Kinich on the other hand, was rendered speechless. He wanted to talk to you again but since it was clear you had cut the line, he had no choice but to respect your decision. After sparing your window one more glance, he zips away into the dark sky. 

~

The next three weeks passed slowly. Both of you were busy preparing for your final exams of the semester. No matter how hard you try to focus on your studies, you just cannot seem to stop thinking about Kinich. Random thoughts like ‘is he doing fine?’, ‘has he eaten?’ and sometimes ‘I hope he’s not hurt again…’. You have not consulted your group of friends about your relationship but judging from how he was not constantly by your side, they already knew what happened. 

Currently, you are heading home after spending hours cramped in the campus library. You were too exhausted to be mindful of your surroundings. You had no idea that you were being followed, until it was too late. 

“Mphmf-!?” 

Your startled shout was instantly muffled when a gloved hand covered your mouth. Your sight turned blurry after you accidentally inhaled something. The last thing you heard was a man saying something along the lines of using you as bait for Spiderman, before everything turned black. 

When you regained consciousness, it took all of your willpower to not scream at how you were dangerously dangling in the air. The only thing supporting you was the rope tightly tied around your waist. Your wrists were tied and held behind your back. You didn’t dare try to move about, not wanting the rope to snap into half. You looked around, squinting your eyes as you tried to make sense of where you were through the darkness. 

All you could see was long and rectangular-shaped steel bars and you knew you were on a construction site. The pockets of your jeans were empty, meaning your kidnappers must have taken your phone after you were knocked out. There was nothing much you could do, except to play the role of a waiting duck. You sighed, lowering your head to look down at the ground and for a split moment, the thought of death flew through your mind. 

“Look who’s awake? Are you getting anxious that Spiderman isn’t here yet?” A sinister voice pierced through the silence. 

You raised your head to see two armed and masked men approaching you, coming to a stop at the edge. One man has a muscular build while the other man was as thin as a branch. Not wanting them to know they have the upperhand, you merely remained silent and looked at them with a bored expression. 

“I won’t rely on him that much if I were you. I doubt he knows that you guys are waiting for him,” you replied. 

The muscular man laughed. “Hah! Nice try, kid. But we’ve managed to drop him a nice little text using your phone, telling him to meet us here at nine sharp. And if he doesn’t, then I guess you can say bye to that boyfriend of yours.” 

Your blood ran cold at his words. 

“I’m here now, let them go.” 

A familiar voice interrupted your brief conversation. The two men turned around and there he was; Spiderman in his glory. You knew Kinich was seething with rage, judging from how his fists were clenched tightly the moment he was informed that you were held hostage. The men smirked in triumph as they slowly approached him, leaving you there to observe the scene unfold by itself. 

“About time you show up. It’s time for revenge for what you did to my face,” the muscular man said, pointing at his masked face with his thumb as he pulled out a gun. You gulped when you saw how dangerous they looked. 

“I don’t remember doing such a thing to you, but perhaps it might be a good thing for you,” your ex(?) replied, and you would have snickered if not for your current situation. 

“How dare you! I should have killed you when I had the chance!” He roared, enraged and started running full speed at Kinich, with his fellow partner-in-crime hot on his heels. 

From your vantage point, you watched with bated breath, heart racing as Kinich faced off against the two heavily-armed men. The tension crackled in the air, thick and electric. Kinich moved with a mix of agility and determination, dodging a flurry of blows while keeping his focus sharp. You could see the muscles in his jaw tighten as he assessed the situation, calculating his next move.

Each clash of steel rang out, echoing in the stillness around them. The men were imposing, their weapons gleaming menacingly in the light, but Kinich stood his ground, a fierce intensity in his eyes. With every punch and counter, you felt your own pulse quicken. You could only watch, willing him to outsmart his opponents and to emerge from the intense battle unscathed. Just when the fight was about to hit the climax and the two men were on the verge of being defeated, the skinny man turned to you. 

You watched in pure horror as he raised his weapon, aiming at the rope and fired. Whatever happened next was in slow motion. Your vision made an abrupt turn to the right, as gravity took over your body and pulled you down. The high-pitched scream you let out was not enough to describe the pure fear pumping through your veins. You made eye contact with Kinich and you could imagine the look of disbelief mixed with horror behind the mask. 

“Kinich!”

You screamed his name at the top of your lungs as your body began its descent to the hard concrete ground at lightning speed. Kinich forced himself to move, dodging the poor attempts of the men trying to stop him. Just for good measure, he shot a few webs aimed at their limbs to prevent them from moving. He jumped off the edge without hesitation, reaching out his hand as he tried to grab you. 

“Hold on, I’m coming!” He shouted, pure desperation heard in his voice. 

With a swift, fluid motion, he shot his web toward you, the silken strands glistening in the air before they wrapped securely around your stomach. Before you could even react, he yanked you towards him, the world spinning as you felt the force of his pull. Just as you landed against him, he swung into the air, the rush of wind whipping past you. Your heart raced as he propelled you both over the danger, each swing taking you away from the chaos below.

He landed gracefully in a safe area, setting you down gently. Your breath caught in your throat as you met his gaze—eyes fierce yet filled with concern. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, urgency in his voice, the adrenaline still coursing through him. You nodded, shaken but alive, gratitude swelling within you.

Your entire body was trembling like a fallen leaf. Kinich gently placed you on the ground, still holding you as your legs gave way. You remained still, the adrenaline and fear of experiencing close death still pumping through your veins as he removed the web from your frame, wincing at how some were still stuck on your clothes. None of you said a word after that, unsure of what to say to break the silence. 

“I-”

He wanted to speak, but you threw yourself at him, hugging him with a vice-like grip as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. Kinich fumbled about due to your combined weight but he managed to catch himself before he could hit his head against the ground. He removed the gloves and pulled the mask off, placing them on the side as he returned the embrace. Your sniffles and sobs were the only thing occupying the silence and Kinich knew you were beyond terrified of what you had just gone through. 

“Hey, it’s fine now. You’re safe, don’t worry, I got you,” he murmured, speaking in a soft and gentle tone as he reassures you. He ran his hand through your hair; an action he knows you love by heart. 

“I was so scared… I thought I was going to die…” You whimpered through your tears as you moved away from him, resting your hands on his shoulders. 

“Kinich, I’m sorry for snapping at you. That wasn’t nice of me, especially when you are doing something good which is saving the city and people,” you apologized, but he shook his head. 

“You don’t have to apologize. You weren’t in the wrong, in fact, it should be me. I shouldn’t have neglected you to the point where you felt like the relationship had become one-sided. I promise you that from now on, I will give you more of my time,” he gave you a small smile, reaching out to wipe away the stray teardrop on your cheek. 

“But, I don’t want to get in the way of your duty,” you protested. 

He merely shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sure the police can handle the troubles themselves for a day or more.” 

You chuckled and his features softened when he heard your laugh. You flinched when he suddenly carried you bridal-style in his arms after he stuffed his gloves and mask into his pocket. 

“Now that we’re done here, it’s time to go home, shall we?” He asked, looking down at you with a loving smile. 

“Indeed, we shall, Spiderman.”