#and to document this moment of breaking through

[404lizzylizard]

Acts of Service

pairing: spencer reid x coworker!reader

tone/content : Flirty, slow-burn workplace tension with classic Reid awkward charm

Word Count: ~1,050

a/n: from the poll yall. I had to download the app on my phone and transfer it🤧. Don’t worrry I come in clutch (not proof read….🧍‍♀️)

It started with the Garcia file.

You distinctly remember it being halfway done — notes scattered, references highlighted, a sticky note with a reminder to cross-check timestamps on page five. But when you opened it the next morning, it was pristine. Fully annotated. Color-coded margins. Footnotes. With APA citations.

At first, you chalked it up to a moment of overachieving late-night productivity. Maybe you'd done it in a fugue state. Maybe your brain was broken. Or maybe Emily had gotten bored and overly helpful after one too many Red Bulls. Wouldn’t be the first time.

But then it happened again.

And again.

By the fourth mystery-completed file, you were suspicious.

You glanced across the bullpen, eyes narrowing. Emily was sipping coffee innocently. Morgan was deep in conversation with Hotch. Garcia was mid-rant about someone in Cyber Crimes who dared call her a “data analyst.” Everyone looked appropriately overwhelmed.

Except Spencer.

Dr. Reid sat at his desk, tapping his pen against his lip while reading over a document — your document. The unmistakable teal header from your case notes peeked out beneath his hand. And was that… your handwriting?

You stood slowly, squinting. Then crossed the bullpen with all the subtlety of a jungle cat.

“Hey, Spencer.”

He startled like he’d been caught breaking into a safe. “Hi! Hello. Hey. Good morning.” His voice did that pitchy nervous thing, the one that meant his brain had already cycled through nine potential exit strategies and decided none of them would work.

You leaned on his desk.

“That’s my case summary.”

He blinked. “Oh. Right. I—uh—I was just reading it.”

“Reading it. Or rewriting it?”

Spencer flushed.

You crossed your arms, trying not to grin. “Reid. Have you been… finishing my files?”

His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “Define ‘finishing.’”

“Rewriting case synopses. Cleaning up victimology timelines. Adding footnotes in Latin.”

“…okay, yes. But it’s not like— I didn’t mean to! Not at first.” He rushed to explain, words tumbling. “It started because I saw your file on the coffee table and I noticed the timeline had a two-hour discrepancy between when the suspect left the gas station and when the body was found, and I thought, well, that’s probably important, so I checked the timestamps, and then—then I realized it needed clarification, and by the time I looked up, it was…done.”

You blinked.

“And then it kept happening?”

Spencer nodded, sheepish. “They’re just… fun to work on. Yours are fun.”

You tilted your head. “You think my case files are fun?”

He smiled, that shy, endearing half-smile you hated how much you liked. “They’re very organized. And you leave sarcastic comments in the margins sometimes. It’s like… an annotated tour of your brain.”

That one caught you off guard. A little flutter somewhere deep in your chest.

“I thought maybe you were annoyed,” you admitted, quieter now. “I figured you were fixing my mistakes.”

Spencer looked horrified. “No! Not at all. You don’t make mistakes. I mean- statistically, everyone makes mistakes, but yours are minor and usually spelling-related and once you spelled ‘unsurvivable’ with two R’s but I thought it was kind of charming-”

You laughed, covering your face. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

He cleared his throat, trying to regain composure. “Sorry. I’ll stop. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

You glance down at the neat stack of color-coded papers on his desk, your name typed at the top, your scribbles still faintly visible beneath his tidier notes. Something warm unfurls in your chest. You shake your head.

“You don’t have to stop.”

Spencer blinks. “Really?”

You shrug, a little self-conscious now. “If you like doing it, and I still get the credit, I mean… who am I to take away your nerdy acts of service?”

His ears go pink. “Acts of service?”

You smile, grabbing your folder back from his desk, fingers brushing his as you do. “Spencer, this is the workplace equivalent of braiding my hair and packing me lunch. Admit it.”

He looks momentarily dazed. “Do you… want me to pack you lunch?”

You laugh, walking backward toward your desk. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Romeo.”

Spencer watches you retreat, stunned and very clearly flustered. When you sit, you peek up just in time to catch him smiling stupidly at his paperwork.

It happens again the next day. And the next.

Eventually, the team stops asking why your files are always perfect.

But you catch the way Hotch glances between the two of you. The way JJ smirks when Spencer brings you coffee. The way Garcia fake-swoons every time he quietly slips a revised summary onto your desk like some criminal-profiling fairy godmother.

You don’t mind.

Because now, every time you open one of those perfectly polished files, you find a new note — sometimes just a margin doodle, sometimes a quote, once an actual equation that solved a joke you’d made in passing two weeks prior.

Eventually, one of the footnotes reads:

P.S. If you ever want dinner instead of coffee, I’m available.

—S.R.

You don’t annotate the note.

You just write your number on a sticky note and place it under his favorite pen.

[sowerpatch]

terms of play [chapter 7 - in transition]

Summary: Azzi Fudd built the Golden Valkyries on a dare, but drafting Paige Bueckers was all strategy. Fresh off an NCAA title, Paige is everything the team needs—and everything Azzi shouldn’t want.

Officially, it’s all business. Unofficially, it’s glances that linger too long and touches that mean too much.

Author's note: this is an AU where Azzi owns the Golden State Valkyries and drafts Paige. Azzi's family are all original characters. Also, Azzi is three years older than Paige.

*CHAPTER LIST HERE*

Chapter Summary: Paige and Azzi said it was over.

Boundaries drawn, feelings shelved, rules in place. But with every game, every glance, every unexpected moment off the court, the line gets harder to hold. They agreed to stop, but how long can they mean it? Word count: 5,577 Author's note: first, I'd like to thank everyone for reading this fic. i'm overwhelmed but very happy with the comments, messages, and reactions. i didn't know a lot are reading this nonsense, but thank you! second (and you may not want to hear this), i may not update for a couple of weeks. i am going on a trip so i'm not sure i'll be able to do so. i hope you'll still want to read this if it's not frequently update until third week of july. third (if you're also reading my other on-going), unfolded will be updated but i also apologize it will not be that frequent due to the same reason above. thanks for supporting and reading my works.

Fudd Holdings, San Francisco. May 2025. 

The sky outside her windows had settled into its noon haze, but Azzi hadn’t looked up from her desk in hours. Her monitor cast a soft glow across the dark wood, spreadsheets opened and minimized in equal measure. Her fingers hovered over the trackpad, scrolling through a document she had already reviewed twice that morning. 

The knock on her door was brief. Nika stepped in without waiting for permission, balancing a takeout bag and two bottled teas in her hands. 

“I know you didn’t eat again,” Nika said as she shut the door behind her. “And I’m not letting you call a candy bar lunch.” 

Azzi sat back in her chair, one brow lifting. “You’re persistent.” 

“I work for a woman who hasn’t taken a real lunch break in ten days,” Nika replied, placing the food down. “Persistent is the bare minimum.” 

Azzi didn’t argue. She slid the papers to the side and reached for the tea, unscrewing the cap but not drinking yet. Across the desk, Nika opened the takeout containers with practiced ease. 

“How is your WNBA team?” Nika asked without looking up. “Season started last week.” 

Azzi didn’t flinch, though the pause before her answer was longer than usual. “Lisa’s handling things,” she said. “It’s her role as general manager, and she’s doing it well. I step in only if I'm needed.” 

Nika glanced up, reading more than what was said. “Good for her but that’s not the same as you supporting them.” 

“I’m busy.” 

“With what?” Nika didn’t soften her tone. “All deadlines are in. Contracts are locked through next quarter. We’re ahead of schedule with every major client. Even your advisory meeting next week was rescheduled by you.” 

Azzi set the tea down, untouched. 

“You’re not too busy to show your face at a home game, Azzi. And neither the team nor the city thinks you’re invisible. So if this is about being busy, I don’t buy it.” 

Azzi held her posture, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the window. But the pause spoke more than anything else. 

Nika watched her for another beat before easing back into her chair, unpacking a fork from its wrapper.  

“You don’t have to talk about it,” she said. “But don’t pretend like this is just scheduling. You’re not fooling anyone.” 

The room stretched between them, filled with paper, food, and the weight of everything unspoken. 

Azzi finally reached for the container, though she still hadn’t eaten a bite. Her voice stayed level, careful. “Lisa knows what she’s doing.” 

“Sure,” Nika said, spearing a piece of grilled chicken. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t still look for you.” 

-    Valkyries Headquarters, San Francisco. May 2025. 

Practice was nearly over, but Paige hadn’t slowed once. She moved through the drills like they were personal, like every missed shot meant something more than just another rep. Her jersey clung to her back, soaked through from the effort. While the rest of the team eased off, she kept pressing. 

“Okay, Paige, you trying to earn Finals MVP in practice?” Kate called, grabbing a towel from the bench. 

Paige gave a quick laugh. “Just keeping sharp.” 

Kiki, lounging near the sideline with her water bottle, chimed in without lifting her head. “If this is about Rookie of the Year, relax. I’m not trying to take it from you.” 

“I just want to do well. Don’t want to let the team down.” 

Kate tossed her towel over her shoulder and walked past. “You’re not. We’ve got your back. So maybe stop trying to bleed for every drill.” 

Paige nodded, but she didn’t stop. She didn’t even look toward the locker room when the others started filing out. She stayed at the three-point line, adjusted her stance, and kept shooting. 

The gym thinned out, noise fading as bodies left the floor. Lights still buzzed overhead. The sound of the ball hitting the rim echoed louder in the emptying space. 

One more shot. Then another. She moved like she could outwork the ache settling deep in her chest. 

- 

Barclays Center, Brooklyn. June 2025. 

The arena buzzed with rising energy. Lights swept across the court, catching on polished shoes and tailored jackets. Courtside filled with the usual rotation of executives, celebrities, and carefully groomed donors. 

Azzi sat quietly among them, legs crossed, her posture composed. Ines sat on one side, Tony on the other. Neither drew attention. 

Three nights earlier, New York liberty owner, Clara Wu had attended the foundation’s gallery fundraiser uptown.  

Toward the end of the event, in the space between polite farewells and final handshakes, Clara had asked if Azzi would be attending the Liberty vs Valkyries game. It hadn’t sounded like pressure, but Azzi understood the subtext. Clara rarely asked for anything directly. 

Azzi had smiled and said yes. She didn’t want to appear distant or detached, not while her team was in town, not so early in the season. By the next morning, Ines had secured the only tickets still available.  

Courtside, unfortunately. 

Across the floor, the Valkyries were already deep in warmups, moving through drills with controlled intensity.  

Paige stayed near the top of the arc, locked into rhythm, her eyes focused straight ahead. If she noticed Azzi’s presence, she didn’t show it.    The game had turned brutal in rhythm and pace.  

The Liberty held a five-point lead, and the crowd rode every possession like a wave, roaring with each defensive stop and every made shot. Bodies hit the floor more often now. Elbows flared. Timeouts were used sparingly. 

Paige moved with urgency. Her focus locked on the ball like nothing else existed. Sweat clung to her temples, her movements crisp and tight, no motion wasted.  

When a tipped pass ricocheted off a defender’s arm and spun wildly toward the sideline, she didn’t hesitate. 

She dove. 

The hardwood scraped beneath her as she slid forward, arms reaching, hands wrapping around the ball just before it could bounce out of bounds. But her momentum kept going. Her body skidded past the line, straight toward the courtside seats. 

She crashed at Azzi’s feet, shoulder brushing against her legs before she caught herself. 

“Shit—sorry,” Paige breathed, looking up. Her voice came low and rushed, all heat and adrenaline. 

Azzi’s eyes met Paige’s, calm and unreadable. 

For a second, the noise in the arena blurred behind them. 

Then the whistle blew. Paige scrambled up, tossed the ball to a teammate, and jogged back onto the court. 

Azzi didn’t look away right away. The faint trace of contact lingered in her skin. But her face gave nothing back. 

-    Team bus on the way to the airport, New York. June 2025.  

The internet had caught fire. 

Clips of Paige diving out of bounds and crashing at Azzi’s feet spread across every platform.  

Slow-motion edits looped the way Paige looked up at her, the brief glance that passed between them, the stillness of Azzi’s expression.  

Screenshots froze the frame at just the right second, turning a routine hustle play into something cinematic. 

Fans called it poetic. Dramatic. Predictable in the way only stories you couldn’t write better in fiction tended to be. 

“This is gay history,”  

“She literally landed at her feet. You cannot make this shit up.” 

“It’s giving princess and her knight,” another caption declared beneath a still of Paige on the floor, Azzi seated above her, untouched, statuesque. 

#ValkyriesCourtship alongside #PrincessAndTheHooper trended before the fourth quarter highlights even aired. 

Even sports media picked it up. A panel segment ran on afternoon television, showing side-by-side clips with commentary that couldn’t resist the subtext.  

ESPN headlined it “better than anything on Netflix.” 

Paige had seen enough of it by the time she reached the team bus. Her phone hadn’t stopped buzzing, but she left it face down on the bench.  

Kiki had sent her the clip with three crying emojis and “Oscar-worthy fall.” 

Kate pulled up another edit as she sat beside Paige, this one layered with a ballad and a dramatic fade to black. 

“You good?” 

“It was just a save.” 

“Sure. You threw yourself at the sideline like a knight charging into battle and landed at Miss Fudd's feet like you meant to bow.” 

Paige adjusted her hoodie without answering. 

Behind them, Kiki laughed. 

“She’s blushing.” 

She didn’t turn around. If she was, she wasn’t giving them the satisfaction. 

- 

The Venetian Resort, Las Vegas. June 2025. 

Las Azzi stared at her calendar, one hand pressed to her temple, the other resting over her laptop’s trackpad. The confirmation email sat open in front of her, clear as day. 

She leaned back slowly in her chair, eyes narrowing. 

There was no way this wasn’t deliberate. 

The Valkyries were playing the Aces. In Las Vegas. Tonight. And somehow, despite the number of ways she had tried to avoid repeating last week’s coincidence, here she was again. Same city. Same schedule. Same team. 

She remembered Nika casually handing off the file three days ago. Something about a last-minute scheduling conflict, how the developers were pushing for face time, how it made sense for Azzi to take. At the time, it hadn’t sounded strange. 

Now it did.    Another email which held two tickets to the game had found its way to Azzi.    Right. 

It wouldn’t look good if she didn’t show up to the game. Not when people knew she was in the city. 

If Nika and Ines had planned this, they weren’t going to admit it. But Azzi knew them both too well.  

She should have seen this coming. 

- 

Michelob ULTRA Arena, Las Vegas. June 2025. 

The game was tight. The Aces pushed in transition, fast and aggressive, but the Valkyries kept pace, sharp in their switches and relentless on the glass. The score stayed close, every possession carrying weight. 

Azzi sat still through it all. Close enough to feel the vibrations under her heels. She didn’t react. Didn’t lean in. Just watched. 

Paige was everywhere. Fighting through screens, calling switches, sinking shots like she was burning through something no one else could see. She didn’t slow down. She didn’t ease up. 

When she hit a three just outside the arc, her eyes searched briefly beyond the baseline. 

Azzi met the look. 

The moment was brief. The game pressed forward.  

- 

The Venetian Resort, Las Vegas. June 2025. 

The machine clinked quietly as Paige pressed the button again. Lights blinked. Nothing hit. She reached into the cup and slid another coin in. 

The Valkyries had pulled off the win. A tight, scrappy six-point finish that left the Aces frustrated and the bench breathing hard. 

Paige had smiled when she needed to. Nodded during the interviews. Let her teammates pull her into the photo. But once it was done, she slipped out early and didn’t look back. 

She found herself now hunched at a forgotten corner of the casino floor, staring through the slot machine like it owed her an answer she couldn't phrase. 

A pause behind her, then Azzi’s voice. 

“You know I’m not paying you to lose your money on a stupid machine.”    Paige slid in another coin and pressed the button, not bothering to turn around. The reels spun and missed again. 

“I know you’re ignoring me,” Azzi continued. “And I deserve that. But I wanted to say congratulations. You were great tonight.” 

Paige’s eyes stayed on the machine. “Hm, ‘s that all?”     Azzi wanted to say more. To sit down, to explain, to ask for something she hadn’t figured out how to name yet. 

She stood there for a moment, unsure if she should say more or walk away. The noise around them was constant—machines whirring, voices rising and falling, the usual chaos of a casino floor. It wasn’t the right place for this type of conversation.    “Yes. Have a good night, Paige.” 

Azzi moved through the casino without looking back, weaving past clusters of tourists and cocktail servers until she reached the elevators.  

One had just arrived. She stepped inside, pressed her floor, and leaned back against the wall as the doors began to close. 

A hand shot through at the last second. 

The doors jerked open. 

Paige stood there, a little breathless, eyes steady. She stepped in without asking and let the doors slide shut behind her. 

“D'you already have dinner?” 

Azzi shook her head. 

Paige glanced at the buttons, then back at her. 

“Wanna order room service with me?”    - 

The coffee table was a mess of wrappers and half-crumpled napkins. Paige leaned back into the couch, one leg tucked under the other, working through the last of the fries like it was a timed competition. 

Azzi watched from the armchair, equal parts fascinated and horrified.  

She had offered a quiet space for their impromptu dinner since Kiki was already asleep in Paige's room. 

Paige had inhaled three burgers in under fifteen minutes and was now making quick work of the fries without so much as a breath. 

Azzi reached for her untouched sandwich, glanced at it, then looked back at Paige. 

“Do you want mine too?” 

Paige didn’t even pause. “What is it?” 

“That was sarcasm.” 

“You’re gonna need to be more specific if food’s involved.” 

Azzi shook her head, sinking deeper into the chair. “I’m genuinely alarmed.” 

“You’ve seen me play,” Paige said through a mouthful of fries. “How is this surprising?” 

“You didn’t unhinge your jaw during the game.” 

Paige grinned, tossed a fry in the air, and caught it with her mouth.  

Azzi sighed and reached for the water bottle on the table but didn’t drink. Her gaze lingered on Paige, still working through the fries like nothing in the world could distract her. 

“You’ve been playing really well lately,” she said. “The last few games especially.” 

Paige slowed her chewing just a little. “Oh.” 

Azzi smiled. 

“I mean, thanks. I didn’t know you were watching.” 

There was a pause. Azzi could have let it pass, could have deflected or changed the subject, but the quiet between them felt too close to something real to lie through. 

“I haven’t missed a game,” she said. “Even if I’m not there, I watch. Every one of them.” 

Paige blinked, then looked down, a trace of pink blooming along her cheeks as she reached for another fry she clearly didn’t need. 

Sitting with her hands loosely clasped in her lap, Azzi’s eyes fixed on the untouched sandwich beside her. The weight between them had been there the whole night, carefully unspoken, but now it pressed harder, closer.    “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “For what happened. For how it happened. It wasn’t fair to you. If I could take it back... I would.” 

Paige didn’t answer right away. She wiped her hands clean with a napkin, taking her time, then leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees. 

“I don’t regret kissing and making out with you that night,” she said.  

Azzi finally looked at her. 

“I only regret putting you in a position. You were already carrying too much, and I pushed you when I should’ve backed off. That’s on me.” Her voice dropped. “I’m sorry for that.” 

Azzi shook her head slowly, the words already forming before Paige could say anything more. “No. Paige, I was the one who kissed you.” 

“And I kissed you back.” 

Azzi looked away, lips pressed together for a moment before she spoke again. 

“I let my emotions get the best of me. That night... I wasn’t thinking clearly.” 

“That’s exactly my regret,” Paige leaned back slightly, eyes holding firm. “I didn’t stop to think what you were going through. I shouldn’t have let it go that far when I knew you weren’t steady.”    She stood up abruptly. “God! Azzi, you just had to deal with your brother that night and all I could think was myself and my stupid ego.”    Azzi’s brow lifted, disbelief flickering across her face. 

“You’ve really been carrying this like it’s on you?” 

"Well...” 

Azzi motioned to the couch. “Sit down.” 

Paige hesitated but did as she was told, settling into the cushion with a quiet breath. 

“Listen,” Azzi started, her tone even but not cold. “I don’t know why you’re blaming yourself, but don’t. And if it makes you feel better, I appreciate your thoughts about me. It’s been a long time since anyone’s cared enough to think about what I’m feeling.” 

She paused, eyes fixed forward. 

“But I’m not going to lie. We’re re-opening something we shouldn’t cross again.” 

Paige sat still, her body tight, listening. 

“We started on the wrong path, Paige. And if we keep walking it, it’s going to lead both of us somewhere we won’t come back from. Whatever this was, we can’t keep going. There’s too much at stake. Not just for me. For you too.” 

Paige kept her gaze on the floor, jaw tight. The words weren’t new. Not really. She had imagined this conversation too many times—Azzi choosing control over closeness, reason over feeling. But now that it was happening, the actual weight of it pressed in deeper than she expected. 

She had been holding on to guilt, turning it over in her head like a stone she thought she could smooth down if she just kept at it long enough. But hearing Azzi say it out loud, the finality of her tone, made it clear that nothing she’d been carrying would change the ending. 

Still, it stung. 

It stung to be told they had started on the wrong path when it had been the only one that felt right. 

She nodded slowly, barely. 

“Okay,” she said, though it didn’t feel like one. 

- 

Valkyries HQ, San Francisco. May 2025. 

The Valkyries were rolling. Eleven wins, three losses. The best start of any expansion team in league history. Their chemistry was sharp, execution cleaner with every game, and the league had started paying attention. 

Paige was a headline regular now. Her stats held weight, her plays made highlight reels, and the noise around her name had shifted from hopeful to certain. Rookie of the Year wasn’t just possible—it was probable. 

All-Star voting opened with her name already at the top of the ballots. 

She felt it, the momentum. The lift of it. Practices ran smoother, her body felt lighter, even the travel days didn’t drag. 

But that talk in Las Vegas hadn’t left her. 

Azzi hadn’t shown up to a game since. Not once. Not even for the home stands. 

The gym had emptied out over an hour ago, but Paige was still there, catching her own rebounds, the steady rhythm of the ball echoing through the quiet space. Her body moved on instinct—one dribble, two, rise, release. Net. Repeat. 

She wasn’t tired. Not enough to stop. 

The sound of the door clicking open didn’t pull her attention right away. Only when footsteps drew closer did she finally glance toward the baseline. 

Azzi stood just inside, arms crossed, the faintest trace of something amused in her voice. 

“Practice ended a while ago. If you’re staying this long, I should start charging you gym maintenance.” 

Paige caught the ball and held it. Her breathing slowed as she turned to face the person living rent free in her head for the past couple of months. 

She let the ball rest against her hip, then spun it slowly in one hand. 

“I don’t want to slack,” she said. “We’re on a five-game win streak. Last thing I need is my boss getting mad I’m not putting it all out there.” 

She looked up, a flicker of something teasing behind her eyes. 

“Last I heard, she never misses watching our games.” 

Azzi scoffed, stepping forward without hesitation. She plucked the ball from Paige’s hand like it belonged to her.    “You really think flattery’s going to make me overlook the fact that you’re hogging the gym?” 

Paige grinned and walked backward toward the free throw line, holding out her hand, shrugging. “If I said I was staying late to honor the legacy of the franchise, would that make it better?” 

Azzi turned the ball slowly in her hands. “It might make it worse.” 

Paige laughed, stepping back with a bounce in her step. “I’m just trying to keep the lights on. You know, making sure your multi-million dollar floor space stays in good use.” 

“I should charge you rent.” 

“Add it to my contract,” Paige said, motioning toward the court. “Tell you what. You make one shot, I’ll clear out.” 

Azzi tilted her head. “You think I’m just going to embarrass myself for your amusement?” 

“I think you’re dying to see if you can make one,” Paige said, voice low and teasing. “Come on. You’re standing on the floor of your own team’s gym, and you’ve never even taken a shot?” 

Azzi stared at her for a long second, then shook her head and let out a sigh. 

“You’re relentless.” 

Paige grinned and walked toward the free throw line, tossing the ball up and catching it. “One shot. I promise I won’t tell the world. Unless it’s perfect.” 

Azzi followed her slowly, arms folded. 

“This is ridiculous.” 

“This is team bonding.” 

“You’re not my team.” 

“I’m your headache. Close enough.” 

Azzi let out a breath, finally taking the ball back. “Fine. But I’m blaming you when this ruins my reputation.” 

Paige stepped in, already adjusting her grip. “If anything, this is gonna make it better.”    Azzi stared at the hoop like it was challenging her. She adjusted her grip on the ball, stepped awkwardly toward the free throw line, and squared her shoulders like she had watched athletes do a hundred times from the sidelines. 

She launched. 

It left her fingers too flat, spinning awkwardly in the air before clanking off the front rim and bouncing back with a dull thud. 

Paige bit her lip, then broke into a jog to chase it down before it rolled out of bounds. 

“That was…” She paused, dribbling the ball once. “A very brave attempt.” 

Azzi crossed her arms, unimpressed. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it.” 

“I’m not.” Paige grinned. “I’m saying you’re clearly an expert at hitting the exact part of the rim that guarantees it won’t go in.” 

She walked the ball back, but instead of handing it over, she stopped in front of Azzi and held it with one hand. Her voice dropped, softer this time, and something in her face shifted. 

“Let me show you.” 

Azzi hesitated, watching her closely. There was no mocking now. Paige’s grin had settled into something quieter. Not serious, but careful. Like she was trying not to move too quickly through a moment that meant more than it should. 

She nodded once. 

Paige stepped closer, placing the ball in Azzi’s hands again, but this time kept hers there too. She adjusted Azzi’s grip gently, her thumbs brushing over Azzi’s knuckles. 

“Right here. Let your shooting hand sit under the ball. Other hand just helps guide it.” 

Azzi didn’t look at the hoop. She looked at Paige. Their hands were tangled around the ball, Paige’s fingers warm and steady. Close enough to feel her breath when she spoke again. 

“You don’t need to force it. Let it roll off your fingers. It’s about rhythm. Trust.” 

Azzi swallowed hard. 

“Trust the shot?” 

Paige’s eyes met hers. “Trust yourself.” 

The gym felt too quiet. Just the creak of sneakers on polished wood and the low hum of lights above. Paige stepped behind her, setting her palms lightly on Azzi’s elbows, guiding them into position. 

“Bend your knees a little. Keep your elbow under the ball.” 

Azzi followed. The motion was stiff, but she listened. 

Paige leaned in, voice at her ear. “Now lift it slow. Let it go at the top.” 

Azzi raised her arms and released. The ball floated, not perfect, but cleaner. It hit the backboard and bounced toward the rim before falling away. 

Better. 

Azzi turned to look at her, something flickering in her eyes. Not frustration. Something else. A heat she didn’t name. 

“That was almost good,” Paige said. 

“Almost?” 

“I think you need another lesson.” 

-    Paige’s apartment, Oakland. June 2025.  

The apartment was dark except for the soft glow of Paige’s phone. She was sprawled on the couch, one leg tucked under her, the other stretched toward the armrest. Her hair was damp from a shower, and there was a half-finished protein shake on the coffee table. 

Her thumbs tapped quickly. 

Paige: You looked good last night.  Paige: But I still think your hair looked better during draft night. 

She attached a photo. 

It was Azzi, polished and poised, walking into a real estate conference. Hair pulled back in a sleek twist, dressed in a charcoal pantsuit that made her look every inch the power executive Twitter loved to obsess over. 

Azzi: Where did you get this? 

Paige answered before the read receipt even registered. 

Paige: Internet. You’re famous, remember? 

Azzi exhaled through her nose, typing slowly. 

Azzi: Are you stalking me now? 

Paige: Maybe.  Paige: Just enough to form an opinion about your hairstyles. 

Azzi: And here I thought you were too busy chasing Rookie of the Year. 

Paige: I multitask. 

Azzi sat up straighter in bed, the corners of her mouth betraying the start of a smile. 

Azzi: You really liked my hair that night? 

Paige: I like a lot of things when it comes to you.  Paige: Want a list? 

Azzi hesitated.  

Azzi: I’m scared of that list. 

Paige: You should be. It’s long. 

Azzi: Paige. 

Paige: Azzi. 

Azzi: I thought we weren’t doing this. 

Paige: You texted back.  Paige: So maybe you’re doing it too. 

There was a pause. Paige watched the typing bubble appear and disappear three times. Then finally: 

Azzi: Goodnight, Paige. 

Paige stared at it. Then sent one more message without thinking. 

Paige: I still like your hair better down. 

She set her phone down beside her, the softest grin tugging at her mouth as she leaned back into the couch. 

While Azzi lay still in the dark, phone on her chest, heartbeat louder than it should be. She didn’t reply again. But she didn’t stop reading it either. 

-  

Rocco's Cafe, San Francisco. June 2025. 

The clink of glass against ceramic filled the space between them. Afternoon light poured through the tall windows of the restaurant, the kind of place Nika always picked—unassuming, elegant, with an outdoor view that cost more than it looked. Azzi sat across from her, shoulders relaxed, her phone turned face down for once. 

Nika stirred her espresso, eyes flicking to the plate Azzi had barely touched. 

“Westlake signed,” she said. “The rezoning permits came in yesterday.” 

Azzi nodded, lifting her glass. “Good. I want the contractors briefed by Friday. We’ll reroute phase three if they can’t break ground in time.” 

“They will.” Nika took a sip, then leaned back in her chair. “What about the Dallas project? Still holding?” 

Azzi glanced past her toward the window. “We’re waiting on final numbers. But I’m not rushing that one. The board will push if I give them a reason.” 

A beat passed, comfortable and slow. Nika tilted her head, her voice quieter. 

“How are you?” 

“I’m fine?” 

“You’re more than fine.” 

Azzi looked at her confused. 

Nika smiled, sharp but kind. “You’ve been smiling. Laughing. You even left the office before seven last week.” 

Azzi raised an eyebrow, daring Nika to continue. 

“You’re glowing.” 

She shook her head, but her mouth twitched like it wanted to smile. 

“And forgive me, but I have a feeling Jake’s not the reason.”  

Nika lifted her cup with a knowing tilt, like she was letting Azzi keep her secret while quietly reminding her it wasn’t all that well hidden. 

-  San Francisco International Airport, San Francisco. June 2025. 

Azzi reread the message from the Valkyries’ training staff, the words sharp in their precision.  

Concussion protocol.  

Paige had been pulled from practice following a hit during the game against Indiana two nights ago. 

Azzi had watched that game from a bar in Dallas, her tablet propped up between half-finished cocktails and development briefs. The meeting with local contractors had stretched past dinner.  

Her flight home today was late and quiet, and somewhere over the Rockies, exhaustion claimed her. 

The message hadn’t registered until she was standing outside Terminal 2, luggage beside her, the San Francisco air cutting through her blazer. She scrolled absently while waiting for the car. 

Another text sat beneath the first.  

Let us know if you’d like to see the medical report. 

She didn’t reply right away. Headlights pulled up. The town car stopped cleanly at the curb. 

She typed her reply. 

Not necessary. 

Tony stepped out, moved to the trunk. Azzi got in without a word. The door closed with a soft click, and the city hummed low around them. 

She stared straight ahead.    Thinking.    More thinking.    “Tony, we’re making a detour.” 

-    Paige’s apartment, Oakland. June 2025. 

Paige blinked, hard, like it would help make sense of the shape in front of her. 

Azzi stood at the doorway, calm as ever, hair tucked neatly behind one ear, as if she belonged there. She hadn’t called. Hadn’t messaged. 

And now Azzi was stepping inside like she hadn’t just knocked a minute ago, like being let in meant she belonged there. 

Paige raised an eyebrow. “You know, knocking doesn’t mean you get to just walk in like it’s your office.” 

Azzi took two more steps in, ignoring the comment entirely. 

“You’re in concussion protocol,” she said. “I got the update this morning.” 

“I—what? Wait, how do you even—” Paige closed the door slowly. “You’re not even on the medical distribution list.” 

“I don’t need to be.” 

“Okay. Cool. Great. Love the vague billionaire surveillance energy,” Paige muttered. “That’s definitely what every injured rookie wants.” 

Azzi raised an eyebrow, unbothered. “I didn’t hack into anything, if that’s what you’re implying.” 

Paige snorted. “You didn’t have to. One look from you and half the staff probably tripped over themselves to send an update.” 

“I asked, they answered.” 

“Right. Because that’s totally normal. Just your average team owner flying across the country to check on a player with a bump to the head.” 

“I’m not your average team owner,” Azzi’s gaze didn’t waver. “And it wasn’t just a bump.” 

Paige’s breath hitched before she could hide it.  

She tried to mask it with sarcasm. “So what now? Are you here to run your own tests? Gonna flash a penlight in my eyes, ask me who the president is?” 

"Would you answer if I did?” 

“Depends,” Paige said, voice lower now. “Are you gonna tell me why you really came?” 

Azzi didn’t look away. “Does it matter?” 

“It does if you want to keep pretending this is just about basketball.” 

“Paige.”    “Azzi.” 

Azzi exhaled, slow and tired. “I was worried.” 

Paige stepped closer, the tension in her shoulders softening as she reached out and cupped Azzi’s face with both hands. 

“I’m fine,” she said gently. “You don’t have to worry.” 

Azzi didn’t answer. Her eyes stayed on Paige, and before she realized it, she was leaning into the warmth of that touch, drawn by something quieter than reason. 

Paige moved in without rushing, her hands sliding down until they rested on Azzi’s waist. She pulled her in, carefully, like she didn’t want to spook her. Their bodies met in a slow, steady hold. 

Azzi let herself be held. 

“Didn’t we agree we need to stop this?” Azzi’s voice was soft, but the weight behind it settled between them. 

"I only agreed half-heartedly.” 

Azzi rolled her eyes and gave her a light smack on the arm. Paige caught her wrist before she could pull away, grinning. 

“Let’s just have this night, please.” Paige said, voice lowered to something more honest. “We don’t have to do anything. I miss you.” 

There was a pause, then a quiet mumble from Azzi. “I miss you too.” 

Paige wrapped her in a hug, slow but firm, the kind that said more than words could carry. She held Azzi tightly, grounding herself in the contact, in the relief of having her this close again. 

“How was your flight?” she asked after a moment, still not letting go. 

Azzi answered once they finally pulled back, their fingers laced. “Long. Delayed twice. I hated every second.” 

“Stay the night,” Paige said without thinking. 

Azzi blinked. Her body stilled. “Paige—” 

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Paige added quickly. “We both need rest. That’s all. Just... don’t leave.” 

Azzi hesitated for only a beat, then reached for her phone. She typed out a message to Tony to go home without her. 

Paige disappeared for a moment and came back with a folded UConn sweatshirt and matching joggers. “You’ll look better in these than I ever did.” 

Azzi gave her a look, took the clothes, and changed in the bathroom. When she emerged, the room was dim, Paige already under the covers. 

She climbed in, the air between them thick with hesitation. They left a small space between their bodies, but not for long. 

“Come here, ma,” Paige said, voice almost teasing. 

Azzi didn’t bother pretending. She folded into Paige’s side, resting her head on her shoulder. 

“I’m only doing this because of your concussion protocol,” she murmured. 

Paige laughed, the sound low and grateful. “If it means I get to have you like this, I’ll bang my head every day.” 

Azzi let out a quiet laugh of her own, her breath brushing against Paige’s neck. 

Paige pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you for coming. And for checking on me.”    “We’re so bad at stopping this.” 

[heavierthanlaila]

today is just one of those days where waiting sets very heavily on top of your shoulders that it almsot breaks your bones. patience is a 1000 degress firey monster that can melt your flesh away in a second. you feel like you've overstayed your welcome in your family's house and your free trial is over and is now the time to pay your overdue rent. their love will no longer be for free. whatever friends you have left are distracted living their own lives cherishing their own separate friends and can't find the time to include you. yet you can't blame anyone because it's your time to be tested. it's your time to be stripped away of whatever little support system you have to see if you're a true believer on your own or is it only a group project sort of thing. but you know it's not easy and loneliness is a big fat bitch that sits on your neck almost crushing your wind pipe.

[hug-your-face]

via @swatercolour here on Tumblr and also on [insta]

EDIT: I do not interpret "just managing" as "just suffering, just enduring, curling into a fetal position and waiting for it to be over." Managing is an active process.

So I'm using this post as a platform to make the reminder that "the power of the people is greater than the people in power," and we all are cordially invited to:

Take good care of ourselves. Mental, physical, emotional health. Hydrate. Move if we can, get outside if we can.

Keep up a routine. Remember quarantine and we all had to find a routine? This is the same.

Be intentional in our news consumption. Let's not stick our heads in the sand but let's not doomscroll either. Get an RSS aggregator. Subscribe to WTF Just Happened Today, Yoour Local Epidemiologist, Fix The News (for some inspiring hopeful news!). We'll check our feeds a few times a week, but no more than once a day.

Connect with friends and loved ones. Remind ourselves that while SOME people are horrible, for the most part people are awesome... if complicated. Share our fears but also our hopes. Eat together.

Now that we're keeping healthy, safe, sane, and hopeful... now we also fight. Quietly if we prefer, loudly if we prefer. But sustainably. I hate that I had to live through three rounds of this nonsense where a few people use half of us as tools to fuck over ALL of us, but here we are again. So let us take just one moment every week or so to...

Use 5calls to keep blowing up our reps phones. Tell them to either break ranks with the Orange Administration, or to stand up louder than just matching outfits and signs. Or to THANK them for standing up.

Use Vote411 to find elections before the midterms. A lot of villages, cities, townships etc have local elections that will affect where we live... and more importantly, the people in office there will affect things upwards too.

Use Ballotpedia to know exactly what's on our ballots ahead of time.

Protest, because it actually works.

Use Vote.org to make a plan to vote in the midterms. Make a plan that is immune to voter suppression tactics. Get our documents in order. Reach out to our friends to go to the polls as a group. Plan to livestream our visit, up until the point we have to turn our cameras off.

Make and share memes that promote hope, organizing, solidarity, and/or resistance.

Get involved with an action network like Indivisible, MoveOn, or Working Families Party.

Go to a local town hall meeting. Speak up.

Heck, start our own local activism networks, letter campaigns, call campaigns, or fundraisers with Action Network.

And we will remember our self-care. We will remind ourselves and each other that they want us scattered, focus is how we resist.

It IS coming back. Things ARE going to get worse. The world has become a place where a very few people are pulling levers and pushing buttons that are actively destroying much of what is good about living in a society where people care for each other.

Many others are in shock, sputtering "but can they do that?" MANY many others are waiting for someone to come save us.

But there are those who are actively, loudly, opposing.

And there are more people speaking up, acting up, every day. More people saying it's time to get scrappy. It's time to get into some good trouble. The shock is wearing off.

Yes, it's gonna get worse before it gets better (the long-term damage of the acts of the past momentum of all the damage that has been done will take that long to be felt -- but it WILL get better.

If WE will it.

[connorsui]

Hi! Can I ask for a Sylus fluff, where he gives the reader his bank card for her to go shopping, and he expects a bill to be at least $10,000, but all he sees is about $100. So he asks her if she bought everything she wanted, and she says something like "yeah, there were such good discounts, I didn't spend too much, did I?"

And man is just ಠ⁠益⁠ಠ GIRL GO SPEND MY MONEY I WANT TO SPOIL YOU

My beloved @lalaluch I cannot explain to you just how much fun this was to even imagine but let alone even WRITE 🩷 like I was losing my mind trying to bust out my Google docs to even make this. But my sickness was literally getting to me that all I could do was imagine--but anywhoo now that it's finally done I hope you all enjoy it ✨️

p.s: I hope this sickness finally leaves me because it be making me internally cry on the inside ...I pray for prayers lol 💅🏻

BUDGET QUEEN

It had taken weeks of gentle coaxing, half-joking remarks, and the occasional exasperated sigh before you’d reluctantly agreed. You had this stubborn streak, an insistence on independence that both irritated and fascinated him. But today, you’d finally caved.

“You’ll take it,” Sylus had said that morning, slipping the sleek card into your hand, his fingers brushing against your palm. “No arguments. No excuses.”

You had sighed, rolling your eyes. “Fine. But I’m not going crazy with it?!”

He had only smirked, knowing full well you would—and knowing full well that he wanted you to.

And now, hours later, he awaited the results.

Sylus leaned back in his leather chair, his crimson eyes flicking lazily over the documents cluttering his desk. A rare break in his usual chaos had him sipping on his usual drink, savoring the brief quiet. That was until his phone buzzed. He set his glass down and checked the notification, a message from his bank popping up.

He expected it—he wanted it. You had finally caved to his insistence after a literal month of convincing and taken his black card to go shopping. He’d envisioned the inevitable message all morning, something like:

One-hundred million spent at Celine and The Row’s combined?

Or perhaps?

Fifty million at Loro Piana?

You’d mentioned their beauty and elegance more than once.

Nevertheless, the man wanted indulgence, excess—you deserved it, after all.

Instead, the message read:

$157.45 at… Assorted Stores.

Sylus stared at the screen, unblinking. Surely, this was a mistake. He refreshed his balance multiple times. Same amount. He checked for pending transactions. None.

“…What?” he muttered, his irritation simmering beneath the surface. He slammed his phone down, crossing his arms as he waited for you to return.

Minutes later, the front door opened, and you walked in, humming happily, two bags dangling from your arms. You looked utterly content, your warm smile sending a pang through Sylus’s chest. He didn’t want to ruin the moment, but he had questions.

“You’re back,” he said, leaning against the doorframe to his study, watching you set the bags down in the living room. His towering presence cast a shadow over you, his white hair catching the light, giving him an almost otherworldly aura.

“Yup!” you chirped, rifling through the bags. “You wouldn’t believe the deals I found today! It’s like the universe knew I had your card!”

Sylus squinted. “Deals?”

“Yeah! Everything was on sale! I even had coupons for some things. Oh, and this boutique downtown was having a clearance event! It was amazing!” You beamed at him, oblivious to his growing disbelief.

“Clearance? ..…How much did you spend?” he asked, his voice neutral. Too neutral.

“Um…” You frowned, pulling your phone out to check. “About a few hundred, I think? Oh, wait—like one-fifty! I didn’t spend too much, did I?” You tilted your head, as if genuinely concerned.

Sylus stared at you, his expression shifting to one of incredulous disbelief. His red eyes seemed to glow, and his lips pressed into a thin line. It was the look of a man deeply offended. Not by you—but by the principle.

“…That’s it?” he asked, his voice sharp but measured, as if he were trying to comprehend an alien concept. “One-fifty?”

You blinked up at him, a little confused by his tone. “Well, yes… I mean, I didn’t want to waste your money—”

“Waste my—” He cut himself off, running a hand through his snowy hair. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure. “Sweetheart,” he said slowly, “do you have any idea why I gave you my card?”

“To… buy some stuff?” you offered, suddenly feeling like you were missing something obvious.

“To spoil you,” he emphasized, stepping closer. “To treat you like the queen you are. To shower you in luxury. And you—” He gestured to the modest shopping bags on the floor, his voice taking on a dramatic edge. “—come back with clearance items?”

Your cheeks flushed. “But… I didn’t need anything expensive! I found good deals, and I thought—”

“No.” Sylus leaned down slightly, bringing himself to eye level with you, his crimson eyes boring into yours. “Listen to me, love. I don’t care about the price tag. I want you to have the best. The fact that you’re this thoughtful is adorable—don’t get me wrong—but next time…” He paused, his voice dropping into a softer, more commanding tone. “…I want to see receipts that would make the average person cry.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not.” He straightened, towering over you again, his arms crossing. “Do you know how much money I make? How much I’ve set aside specifically to spoil you?”

“I can guess?…”

“Clearly not if you’re spending less than a casual dinner out on everything.” His voice was calm, but laced with unmistakable disapproval.

Then, with a breath, he softened—only slightly. “I just want to see you dressed in diamonds,” he corrected, stepping closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. “To watch you slip into golden heels that make you shine like the goddess you are. To drape you in silk and velvet, to see you standing before me in a dress that costs more than a car and still doesn’t compare to your worth.”

Your lips parted slightly, caught off guard by the sudden weight in his words.

“I gave you my card,” he continued, voice lower now, intimate, “because I want you to indulge. To spoil yourself the way I ache to spoil you. Because you deserve to walk into a store and not think—just watch and admire”

Your throat went dry.

He lifted his hand, fingers brushing over your wrist before tracing upward, his touch featherlight against your skin. “I want to see you try on jewelry without looking at the price tag,” he murmured. “I want to sit back and watch as a saleswoman fumbles to put a necklace around your throat because her hands are shaking too much from the sheer amount of wealth wrapped around you.”

His gaze dipped lower, lingering on your frame as he exhaled through his nose. “And instead… you bring me deals?”

Your heart pounded, a mix of amusement and something else entirely stirring in your chest. “I didn’t think I needed to spend that much—”

“You don’t need to,” he interrupted, thumb ghosting over your jawline. His voice was softer now, but no less commanding. “But I want you to.”

Your face heated.

“Next time, I’m going with you.”

“What, to make sure I spend enough?” you teased.

“Yes,” he said, dead serious. “And to carry your bags. And to remind you that you can have whatever you want.” His red eyes softened slightly, and he tilted your chin up with two fingers. “All I want is to see you happy. No discounts required.”

You smiled at his sincerity, warmth blooming in your chest. “Okay, fine. Next time, I’ll go a little crazier. Maybe five million?” you joked.

Sylus groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Woman, you’re going to be the death of me.”

You laughed, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. “You’re so dramatic, you know that?”

“And you’re too frugal for your own good,” he shot back, pulling you into his arms. His voice softened, turning almost playful. “But I guess I’ll just have to teach you how to spend properly.”

“Looking forward to it,” you said, grinning against his chest.

Sylus sighed, resting his chin atop your head. As much as he wanted to spoil you senseless, he couldn’t help but love your thoughtful, practical side. It was part of what made you you—and he wouldn’t trade that for anything.

Still, next time… he was definitely making sure you left the store with at least an entire closet filled with designer bags.

For his sanity—and yours.

[aleksatia]

You went for a drive out of the city, and during a coffee stop, you decided to break the news in a creative way. You had "Best Dad Ever" written on his cup.

🧜‍♂️ Rafayel

The drive is calm. For once, Rafayel isn’t dramatically complaining about how boring the scenery is, nor is he blasting music at full volume just to mess with you. Instead, he’s relaxed, one hand draped over the wheel, sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, humming lazily to himself.

You hand him his coffee.

“Mm, thanks, cutie,” he purrs, taking it without looking, already lifting it to his lips—

Sip.

Pause.

His fingers tighten slightly.

Then—

The car swerves.

"RAFAYEL!"

With zero hesitation, he veers off the road and slams the brakes, the car jerking to a sudden, dramatic stop.

"WHAT THE HELL—" you start, gripping the dashboard.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!"

Rafayel is staring at the cup like it just personally betrayed him. His eyes are huge, his fingers clamped so tightly around the cup that you’re genuinely worried it might crack.

He snatches off his sunglasses, turns to you, and—says nothing.

Just breathes heavily.

Like he’s witnessed something cosmic.

You raise an eyebrow. "Something wrong, babe?"

He flips the cup toward you, jabbing at the words printed on the side.

Best Dad Ever.

"Is this a joke?" His voice cracks. “IS THIS A JOKE?!”

You bite back a laugh. "Nope."

His entire body freezes. His brain disconnects from reality.

Then—

He LAUNCHES himself out of the car.

“RAFAYEL, OH MY GOD—”

He starts pacing.

Wildly.

Hand in his hair, fully spiraling.

"I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN!" He throws his arms in the air. "MY GENES ARE TOO POWERFUL—THIS WAS INEVITABLE—"

You lean out the window, exasperated. "Can you—"

"I CAN’T BREATHE—"

"Then inhale through your nose, genius."

"I AM. IT'S NOT ENOUGH."

He stops abruptly. Whips back toward you. Marches over to the car like a man with a mission, plants his hands on the doorframe, and leans in—

"You’re serious?" His voice is deadly quiet now.

You hold his gaze. “I’m serious.”

For a second, he just stares at you.

Then, suddenly—

He laughs.

At first, just a short breath. Then—full giddy, unfiltered joy. He grabs your face, kisses you sloppy and hard, and laughs against your lips like he can’t believe it.

"I KNEW IT!" He pulls back just to yell into the sky. "I AM ABOUT TO CREATE THE MOST GORGEOUS CREATURE IN EXISTENCE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? THIS IS HISTORIC. THIS CHILD WILL BE A CULTURAL ICON—"

You groan. "Rafayel—"

“I HAVE TO DOCUMENT THIS MOMENT.”

"—No."

He’s already reaching for his phone.

"—RAFAYEL, NO—"

"WE NEED A PORTRAIT. A MONUMENT. A SERIES OF LIMITED-EDITION ART PRINTS."

You physically reach over and grab his wrist. "GET BACK IN THE DAMN CAR."

He gasps.

Dramatically.

Hand-on-heart levels of betrayal.

"You wouldn’t deprive me of this joy?"

"I will deprive you of seeing your child if you don’t start driving."

Instantly—he’s back in the car.

Straightens his jacket. Adjusts his hair. Puts on his sunglasses.

"Holy sharks," he breathes, gripping the wheel. "I'm gonna be a dad."

You sigh, finally relaxing. "Yeah, babe. You are."

He exhales slowly.

Then, softer this time, he reaches out, brushing his fingers over your stomach—reverent now.

"You just made me the happiest being alive," he murmurs. His smirk is still there, but his voice is completely serious.

You smile, resting your hand over his. “I know.”

The moment lingers—soft, intimate, perfect.

And then—

A wicked glint flashes in his eyes.

“Ohhh,” he grins, leaning back lazily. “This kid is gonna be a menace.”

You groan. "Rafayel—"

"THEY WILL BE CHAOS INCARNATE."

"Stop—"

"WE HAVE A DYNASTY TO BUILD."

And just like that—your entire future flashes before your eyes.

🖤🐦Sylus

It’s been a quiet drive, Sylus tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, humming along to the music. He’s in a good mood. Relaxed. Smug, as usual, but easygoing.

You hand him his coffee.

He takes it, sips, lets out a pleased little hum—

And then—

The car jerks.

You barely have time to register what happened before he slams on the brakes, throwing an arm across your waist to stop you from lurching forward.

“SYLUS—”

"EXCUSE ME?!"

The wheels screech to a stop on the side of the road. A cloud of dust kicks up behind the car, but Sylus doesn’t even look at it. No—his full, undivided attention is now locked onto the cup in his hand.

He turns it slowly, his crimson eyes glowing as he reads the words again. And again.

Best. Dad. Ever.

He blinks.

Then he grins.

Not just a smirk—a full, wicked, teeth-flashing, Sylus-style grin that immediately puts you on high alert.

“Kitten,” he purrs, tilting his head, voice dangerously low. “Is this what I think it is?”

You cross your arms. “If you think it means I’m pregnant, then yes.”

He lets out a low whistle, tapping the cup against the steering wheel like he cannot believe his luck.

“Oh-ho-ho,” he laughs, running a hand through his silver hair. “Oh, kitten.”

“…Why do you sound like you won something?” you ask, already regretting everything.

He takes another slow sip of coffee, relishing it, before placing the cup deliberately in the holder. Then he turns to you.

And just—stares.

His eyes gleam. His smirk deepens. And then—

“You belong to me now,” he murmurs, voice soaked in satisfaction.

Oh. Oh no.

“Don’t—”

“You were already mine,” he continues, ignoring your protest, fingers tracing slow circles on your knee. “But this? This makes it official.”

You squint. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, leaning in until his nose barely brushes yours. “You are so trapped.”

Your breath catches.

His lips brush your jaw. Soft. Slow. Dangerous.

“Our baby,” he murmurs against your skin. “My legacy.”

Okay, that makes you snort. “Legacy? Are you serious—”

His fingers tighten on your thigh.

“I never joke about ownership, kitten.”

Your stomach flips. “Sylus, I swear—”

“I am,” he continues, voice so dangerously pleased, “about to be the most unbearable man alive.”

“You already are.”

He chuckles, dark and smooth.

Then, with zero warning, he pulls your seat lever—fully reclines it—and cages you in with both arms.

“SYLUS—”

“You think I’m letting you out of this car without celebrating properly?” His knee presses between yours. His lips hover just over yours. “Oh, kitten.”

A smug, deadly whisper—

“You’re not going anywhere.”

And just like that—you are so. Completely. Screwed.

☃️ Zayne

The drive is quiet, smooth, the hum of the engine steady. Zayne is driving like he does everything else—efficiently, precisely, with absolute control. One hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift, his posture effortlessly composed.

You hand him his coffee.

He takes it automatically, barely looking away from the road as he lifts it to his lips.

Then—

The cup stops midair.

His fingers tighten.

His eyes flick down.

The muscles in his jaw shift.

You can see the exact second his mind starts processing.

His lips part slightly. His brows furrow just a fraction.

His eyes scan the words again, like data he needs to verify.

Best Dad Ever.

And just like that—Zayne enters full diagnostic mode.

His pupils dilate. His breathing adjusts. His shoulders tense in micro-movements.

Then, before you can speak, he mutters—

“Seven weeks.”

You blink. “What?”

He doesn’t answer. He’s already calculating. His eyes flick to the dashboard clock—counting back the exact number of days since your last cycle.

“No, wait,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, “six weeks, five days. That lines up better with—”

He cuts himself off, his grip on the wheel adjusting, his mind racing a mile a second.

Then he grabs his phone with one hand and immediately dials a number.

You stare at him. “Zayne, what are you—”

“It’s Doctor Zayne, I need a full prenatal assessment scheduled immediately.”

“What?!”

He ignores you, listening intently. His tone is calm, clipped, entirely professional, as if he’s in the middle of a patient consultation.

“Yes, priority level one.” His fingers tap against the wheel. “Standard screenings plus full genetic panel. I also want a full cardiovascular assessment given her recent—”

“ZAYNE.”

His jaw tightens. He barely spares you a glance, still listening to whoever’s on the other end.

“No, reschedule that for tomorrow, I’ll be overseeing this personally—”

You reach over and end the call.

Silence.

Zayne blinks once, slowly, as if rebooting.

Then he turns his head very carefully toward you.

“…Did you just—”

“Yes.”

His eyelid twitches.

“You,” he says, deadpan, “just ended an emergency medical consultation with one of the most sought-after specialists in the Linkon-city.”

“Yes.”

His lips press together tightly. His nostrils flare just a fraction.

Then—the cracks start showing.

His throat bobs. His fingers flex around the wheel. His chest rises with a sharp inhale—

And then, finally, he breaks.

His entire body sags forward as he presses his forehead to the steering wheel, exhaling shakily.

“…Oh, fuck,” he mutters, voice completely wrecked.

You blink.

He takes another sharp breath, his hands gripping the wheel like he’s stabilizing himself.

“…I was fine,” he says, more to himself than to you.

You stare at him. “No, you weren’t.”

“I was,” he insists, head still against the wheel. “I had a plan. I was handling it.”

You tilt your head. “Handling it like a patient case?”

His fingers flex again. “It’s not the same.”

“Zayne.”

He doesn’t move.

“Zay.”

Nothing.

So you reach out, fingers slipping into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp—

He lets out a breath that absolutely shatters you.

Like something inside him has finally collapsed.

Then—without warning—he turns and kisses you.

It’s not like before. Not calculated, not measured, not careful.

It’s desperate.

Like he needs to feel you, needs to know you’re here, with him, real.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head.

“I can’t…” He exhales slowly. “I can’t lose control of this.”

Your chest tightens. “You don’t have to control everything, Zayne.”

His hand slips down, pressing gently against your stomach. His fingers splay, warm and reverent.

“…You’re right.” His voice is quieter now.

Another pause.

Then—

A tiny, breathless laugh escapes him.

You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

His eyes flick to yours, golden-green and impossibly soft.

“…I’m going to be a dad.”

You smile. “Yeah, you are.”

Another shaky exhale. Then, a full-blown smile—rare, genuine, warm.

“…Shit.” He laughs again, shaking his head. “I should’ve seen this coming.”

You grin. “Should I be concerned that you can predict organ failure before it happens, but not this?”

His hand tightens just slightly over your stomach. His smirk is smaller now, more sincere.

“No,” he murmurs. “Because this—”

He leans in, lips brushing just over your temple.

“This is the best surprise I’ve ever had.”

🍎 Caleb

It’s a perfect drive—at least, for now. The sun is low, stretching golden light across the road, and Caleb is relaxed, one hand on the wheel, the other lazily resting on the armrest. He’s humming to himself, terribly off-key, completely endearing, and utterly oblivious to the bomb you’re about to drop on him.

You hand him his coffee.

“Thanks, pip-squeak,” he murmurs, taking it automatically, his eyes still on the road.

He takes a sip.

Then—

He stops.

His hand tightens around the cup.

His posture locks up.

And just like that, you realize you’ve made a terrible mistake.

The car swerves.

“CALEB!”

With military precision, he pulls over so hard the tires skid, shifts into park, and slams the brakes.

He doesn’t move.

He doesn’t breathe.

You barely have time to process before he whirls toward you, holding up the cup like it’s an explosive device.

“WHAT. IS. THIS?!”

You blink. “Uh. Coffee?”

His eye twitches. His chest rises in one sharp inhale.

Then—his voice drops to a whisper.

“…Are you messing with me right now?”

Your lips twitch. “Nope.”

Silence.

Pure, deafening silence.

Then—

His entire soul leaves his body.

He throws the door open, jumps out of the car, and immediately crouches down with his hands on his knees.

You watch in real time as a fully grown man has a complete emotional crisis on the side of the road.

"OH FUCK. OH FUCK. OH FUCK."

“CALEB, GET BACK IN THE CAR.”

"I NEED A SECOND."

“You’re going to get hit by—”

"I NEED A FUCKING SECOND."

You drop your head into your hands as he rakes his fingers through his hair, muttering to himself like he’s trying to process the meaning of life.

Then—abruptly—he stops.

Stands up straight. Spins to face you.

“…How long?”

You hesitate. “Caleb—”

“HOW LONG?!”

You sigh. “A few weeks.”

His jaw clenches. His eyes dart down, scanning you, like he’s only just now realizing that oh shit, you’re actually pregnant.

Then—he yanks open the car door, sits back down, and buckles his seatbelt like it personally wronged him.

You blink. “…Are you okay?”

“No,” he admits immediately.

He exhales sharply, presses his hands to his face, and just—

Whimpers.

Not dramatically. Not in distress. Just the most overwhelmed, overjoyed, short-circuited noise you’ve ever heard come out of him.

Then, suddenly—he laughs.

Not just any laugh—a helpless, breathless, disbelieving laugh.

“Oh, fuck.” He drags a hand down his face, his grin growing. “Oh, fuck. We’re having a baby.”

You grin back. “Yeah, we are.”

He turns to you, and something changes.

The panic is still there—but beneath it? Something warm. Something so impossibly, devastatingly soft.

Then—he moves.

His hand presses to your stomach.

Just rests there.

Like he’s afraid to push too hard, afraid to shatter this moment.

His throat bobs. His fingers spread slightly.

And then, his voice—softer than you’ve ever heard it—

“…That’s our baby.”

You nod.

His eyes flicker. His entire body tenses.

Then, without warning—

You are no longer sitting.

You yelp as he hauls you into his lap, wrapping both arms around you and crushing you against his chest.

“CALEB—”

“NOPE.” His voice is muffled into your shoulder. “I NEED THIS. GIVE ME THIS. RIGHT NOW.”

You laugh. “You’re squishing me—”

"YOU’RE PREGNANT WITH MY BABY AND I HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS EMOTIONALLY, THANK YOU."

You let him have it.

For a long moment, he just holds you. His breath is shaky, his grip tight, like he’s trying to memorize every second of this before it slips away.

Then—he shifts slightly.

A deep breath. A pause.

Then, suddenly—

His grip tightens, and he leans back just enough to look at you dead in the eyes.

“…Okay but—what about me?”

You blink. “What?”

His ears start going red.

“I mean,” he clears his throat, gaze darting anywhere but your face now, “what about… you know.”

You smirk. “I don’t know. Clarify.”

He groans, tilting his head back against the seat. “Pip-squeak, come on.”

You hum, trailing your fingers over his shoulders, down his chest. “Ohh. You mean—”

"YES." His grip tightens on your hips. "What happens now? Do I just—" He gestures vaguely between you. "Forget about it? Nine months of nothing?"

You shrug innocently. “Well. There are other ways…”

He freezes.

His eyes darken. His jaw clenches. His fingers twitch.

“…Other ways.”

You nod. “Mhm.”

He stares. Processing.

Then, suddenly—

He grabs the steering wheel with both hands, stares straight ahead, and shifts into drive.

“Okay.”

You snort. “That’s it?”

“I have to drive us home. Immediately.” His voice is far too serious. “This is now a time-sensitive situation.”

You laugh. “Caleb, you are so—”

He shoots you a warning look, eyes still burning. “Do not finish that sentence unless you want me to pull over again.”

You grin wickedly. “And then what?”

His grip tightens on the wheel.

Then, low and dark—

“…Don’t test me, pip-squeak.”

And just like that—

You have created a monster.

☀️ Xavier

The drive is smooth, effortless. Xavier handles the car the way he handles everything else—calmly, efficiently, like he’s already three steps ahead of reality. The road stretches endlessly ahead, the soft hum of the engine filling the silence between you.

You hand him his coffee.

“Thank you, love,” he murmurs, taking it without looking, perfectly composed, as always.

He lifts it to his lips, takes a sip—

Then stops.

His fingers tighten slightly around the cup.

You watch as his eyes flick down to the message.

Best Dad Ever.

For a moment, he doesn’t react. Doesn’t tense, doesn’t flinch. Just…observes.

Then, with deliberate ease, he tilts his head slightly in your direction.

“…Very funny.”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

He gestures toward the cup, lips twitching in amusement. “You can’t fool me, princess. I know you too well.”

He takes another slow sip, entirely unbothered.

“This is a joke,” he continues, matter-of-factly. “You wanted to see if I’d panic. Clever, but predictable.”

You hum thoughtfully. “Oh, yeah? What makes you so sure?”

His smirk grows. “Because if it were real, you’d be significantly worse at hiding your anticipation.”

You tilt your head. “Mm. Maybe.”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he shifts his focus back to the road. “You’ll have to do better than this next time.”

You shrug, lifting your own coffee to your lips.

He barely glances at it.

Then—he does a double take.

His brows furrow. His body stiffens slightly.

You see it—the moment the wheels in his head start turning. The moment his brain connects the dots.

Best Mom Ever.

Of twins.

There is a pause. A deep, soul-crushing pause.

Then, slowly, very slowly, he takes one more sip of coffee.

And immediately chokes on it.

He coughs once, hard, sharp. His grip on the wheel tightens so fast his knuckles go white.

And then—he does the single most terrifying thing he has ever done in his entire existence.

He slowly eases his foot off the gas pedal.

Not jerking the car. Not slamming the brakes. Just gradually reducing speed with surgical precision.

His eyes are locked straight ahead, unblinking.

The car glides toward the shoulder of the road in complete, deafening silence.

Then, in eerie, methodical movements,

He puts the car in park.

Takes off his seatbelt.

Reaches over.

And plucks your coffee out of your hands.

You blink. “Xavier?”

He says nothing.

Instead, he places both cups onto the dashboard.

Adjusts them. Lines them up perfectly so that the words are directly facing him.

Then—

He stares.

At the cups.

At the words.

At his entire future.

Silence.

Then, very quietly—

“…Twins.”

His throat bobs.

His hand comes up and presses against his temple.

Another beat of pure silence.

Then—

He laughs.

A single breathless, helpless laugh.

Then another.

And another.

Until suddenly—

He dissolves into a full-blown existential breakdown.

His entire body tips forward, forehead pressing against the steering wheel.

“Twins.” His voice is muffled, bordering on delirious. “I—twins. Two. There are two.”

You bite your lip. “There will be, yeah.”

He lets out a sound that is neither human nor machine.

Then, slowly—he lifts his head again.

His eyes are unfocused, like he’s calculating probabilities of survival in real-time.

Then—

His head turns toward you.

And you swear you see actual panic.

“How,” he exhales, voice quiet, shaky, “do we own two of something when we never needed to own one?”

You blink. “Xav, what—?”

He gestures vaguely at the cups.

“How do we prepare for twins if we were never prepared for a singular baby?”

You open your mouth—

"WE DON'T EVEN HAVE TWO OF THE SAME PILLOW."

You freeze. “What.”

He gestures more aggressively now, looking absolutely unhinged.

“OUR BED.” He waves toward the back seat. “THE PILLOWS. THEY’RE DIFFERENT. HOW DID WE GET TWO DIFFERENT PILLOWS? HOW DID I LET THIS HAPPEN?”

You stare at him.

“You’re spiraling.”

“I AM LOGICALLY PROCESSING THE GRAVITY OF OUR SITUATION.”

“Xavier.”

He inhales. Exhales.

Then, softer now, more real, more raw—

“…We’re going to have twins.”

You nod.

His shoulders drop. His eyes soften.

Then—before you can react, he reaches out, pulls you into his lap, and buries his face into your neck.

For a long moment, he just holds you.

No overthinking. No calculations.

Just you.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low, warm, unshaken.

“…I am never going to recover from this information.”

You laugh softly. “You will.”

He leans back just enough to meet your eyes. And finally—finally—his lips curve into a small, exhausted smile.

“…They’re going to be terrifyingly intelligent.”

You snicker. “Oh, for sure.”

“And devastatingly attractive.”

“Obviously.”

He hums. “I will be insufferable.”

“You already are.”

His arms tighten around you, his lips brushing your forehead.

“…I’m going to be a father of twins.”

“You are.”

“…That’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

You grin. “You’ll be fine.”

Another pause.

Then—

A mischievous glint sparks in his eyes.

“…Twins, you said?”

You narrow your eyes. “Yes?”

His smirk returns, sharper this time.

“So.” He tilts his head. “Shall we test for a third?”

You shove him so hard the car rocks slightly. ****** More stories here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleksa_Tia

[faeyun]

ˋ 🗯️ ⨾ I’M YOUR SECRETARY

𝖎𝗻 𝖜𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𓈓 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗶𝗻 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗹.

❛ 박성훈 𝑥 𝑓!reader ❜ ╱ 𝖒. list 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗎, 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝗅𝖺𝗐𝗒𝖾𝗋!𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇, 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗒!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ✴︎ 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 / 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 (𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘭𝘶𝘵, 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰𝘺), 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳’𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘰 𓈒𓈒 16OO

( 𝖓 )。 this is directly inspired by the secretary (2002) movie because i am still not over it lmaoo.. hehe thank you my lilypad, @prkhaven, for sending this thought eeeee!!! clearly by the word count i got a little carried away with it… and a special little tag for my love @bambiihee because i can freak out with her about the movie and young james spader now (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)♡

You had to try and hide how giddy you were for this moment—how your body tingled with excitement and how no matter how hard you tried, your hands wouldn’t lay perfectly flat on the mahogany desk.

It took everything in you to look forward, your bottom lip between your teeth and just begging to draw blood. You could feel him behind you, the heat sweltering between your two bodies, and how he faintly trailed his hand along your hip. The excitement that coursed through you was so great that you didn’t even think to hold your breath and wait for it.

“How long has it been now?” Sunghoon asked you, his voice almost monotone, but you could still hear the anger swirling underneath it.

“Weeks, sir,” you replied.

“Weeks,” Sunghoon repeated, “and I’m still finding all these typos on my documents. Do you not understand how this makes me look? Do you expect me to send documents with red circles all over them?”

The typos were on purpose, but you wouldn’t tell Sunghoon that. It was the only way you could get the two of you to this moment—you bent over ninety degrees on his desk while your nose practically touched the paper and him standing behind you, a hand itching to raise in the air. You awaited the spanking—you were desperate for it. So much so that you had to stop yourself from wiggling your ass back towards him.

“No, si—” Smack.

You lurched forward, a half-gasp and half-moan spilling from your already parted lips. The corners of your mouth raised. Inhaling deeply, you repeated yourself. “No, I'm sorry. I’ll do—”

Smack.

Lurching forward again, the sound that escaped you was definitely a moan this time. Your head fell towards the desk as you tried to catch your breath. Sunghoon ran his hand along the fabric of your skirt, fondling your ass right before stopping right where you would be soaking through if it hadn’t been for the layers you were wearing. You bit your lip to try and muffle the groan.

“I’ll do better,” you said, your voice wispy. Sunghoon’s cupped your ass again, before you felt his hand leave and the sound of it hitting fabric reverberated through the quiet office.

Another moan escaped you and you had to lean more on the desk to hold yourself up. Still, you didn’t dare to look back at him and break the unspoken rules that he had placed for you; but you so desperately wanted to. Your knees felt weak and the heels you were wearing didn’t make stabilization any easier for you. You were grateful for the momentary pause that let you both seemingly catch your breath.

“Lift up your skirt,” Sunghoon cuts through the thickness in the air. You pause, unsure if you heard him correctly, and you look back at him.

He sports the same blank face, but you can see how he unravels at the edges around it. You notice the wrinkles in his suit and the way his tie is skewed to the side. His dark hair is in his darker eyes as he stands back and waits for you to obey his command. It almost looks as if he let the words slip from his mouth and it’s too late now to take them back. Like he inadvertently exposed his deepest desire to you by accident. “W-What?” you ask in a small voice, nervous that it’s all in your head, that the excitement has carried you away.

Sunghoon repeats himself, only this time, he adds to what he said. “Lift up your skirt and pull down your stockings and panties.” 

You open your mouth again to ask if that’s what he really meant, but he speaks again before you can. “I’m not gonna fuck you,” he says.

A little disappointed, you inhale sharply at his words. “At least, not in the way you want—though I should after your behavior. You can’t even take a simple punishment without moaning like a damn whore.”

Sunghoon looks you up and down, but you can’t quite read his gaze. He’s too stonefaced. You hesitate, but you face forward again and lift your arms from the table to reach behind you. Slowly, you pull up your long skirt with shaky fingers, and after you pull down your stockings and panties until you’re completely exposed for his eyes to see.

You hear him inhale, but you don’t turn around again. The tips of his fingers trail along the skin he just repeatedly smacked, and the burning you feel there intensifies. A small whimper emits from you that you quickly try to swallow, but Sunghoon’s fingers pause anyway.

This time you feel the wind from his hand before you hear the echo of his palm slapping your ass. Unashamed now, you let your loud moan out freely. Smaller ones follow as you readjust yourself, ready for his next action. The thought that Sunghoon could see how soaked through your panties and stockings were didn’t even cross your mind until it was too late, but your back arched from the thought nonetheless.

Sunghoon’s hand caresses along the bruising skin, and his thumb gently rubs circles into the flesh. Then, his hand moves down, further and further. “Your behavior has been unacceptable. You know I value professionalism above all else, and you are a direct reflection of everything my firm stands for when they walk through that front door. Yet, you parade around, playing with your hair and cutting squares out of your skirts.”

His other hand yanks your skirt further up your back as if it was a nuisance and in his way. At the same time, his fingers delve into your wetness, at the arousal sliding down your inner thighs and coating your waiting pussy. You gasp.

“Are you trying to spite me? Do you want me to treat you like the fuck toy you’re acting like? Because I have no problem doing so.” Sunghoon’s fingers plunge into your entrance and another loud moan is ripped from you, your body lurching forward again as you immediately clench around his slender fingers. His fingers move without hesitation and curl inside of you each time they can’t be pushed in any farther.

Your mouth hangs open and your airy moans fall freely throughout the room. Sunghoon leans down so his face is hovering near yours, and you turn your head ever so slightly to the side so you can see him. His hand doesn’t stop, and neither does the sound from your lips. You can feel the boner through his pants as he leans against you more so you’re almost eye to eye.

Just the sight of his stare through his pretty lashes almost makes you cum. His hand slams down onto the table next to yours and you take the risk to put your pinky over one of his fingers. Sunghoon holds onto that action like it’s his lifeline. In a low voice he says, “I respect you as an employee too much to treat you like a slut. But—just for this moment—I’ll lower my standards for you, slut.”

His fingers move faster, and you feel like all the build-up to this moment was a mistake that you were now feeling the consequences of. You were seconds from breaking completely—and Sunghoon was front row center for the show. Mewling, you bit down hard on your bottom lip and tears welled in your eyes, but you refused to look away from his stare.

You refused to turn away from how heavy his eyes got at each and every single one of your moans. Like he wanted to close his eyes and enjoy the sound, but wanted to witness the face you made as well. Or how his mouth was open and his jaw slack. You especially didn’t want to miss the quiet moans he occasionally voiced, the sound too busy being drowned out by the sounds that you made.

It was all so glorious that your body took over and made the decision for you. Your eyes rolled back as your body went limp. Sunghoon cursed under his breath at the way your pussy held him in a vice grip and refused to let go as you broke around him, covering his hand in a pearly white.

The two of you stood there for a moment, clinging to each other as you struggled to let the oxygen reach your starved lungs. You leaned your head against his, and Sunghoon nuzzled into you before ripping himself away completely.

He pulled his fingers out from inside you, still glistening with your arousal and coated in your cum, and stumbled a couple steps back from you. You turned to look at him, and for a brief second the two of you stared at each other.

Sunghoon then rounded the corner of his desk before falling heavily into his chair, his face mere inches from yours. He closed his eyes for a moment.

“A coffee, please,” Sunghoon said thickly. His eyes fluttered open to look directly at you. You hesitantly stood straighter, confusion written all over your face. Sunghoon plucked the papers off his desk with the hand that had just given you so much pleasure that it was currently dripping down your thighs and puddling in your panties right now like it was nothing. “And this time… add more sugar,” he continued.

Awkwardly, you hiked up your panties and stockings and pulled down your skirt. You grabbed the stack of files that you sat on his desk before standing in front of it for another awkward moment.

“Y-Yes, sir,” you stuttered before rushing out of his office. Sunghoon didn’t spare you another glance.

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏   ͏  ͏ ͏ ͏͏ REBLOGS ◜◡◝ FEEDBACK APPRECIATED!

✉️   ⦂   godddd i need young james spader so desperately it’s not even funny anymore… anyway are we fw the hard thoughts layout?

𖥦 ﴾ 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 . . . 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ﴿ @innocygnet @ghstzzn @heechwe @tinycatharsis @prkhaven @bambiihee @fangel @xylatox @izzyy-stuff @hyukascampfire @sunoosgfv @whosserina @jellymochii @sumsumtingz @riribelle @minaateez @everythingvirgoes @lvrs-street2mmorrow @beomieeeeeeeeeeees

© faeyun - all rights reserved. do not repost on any social media or sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

[dksfml]

LOVE 119 [PART II]

part of my paramedic!jungwon series. masterlist.

pairing: paramedic!jungwon x doctor!reader genre: enemies at work, lovers at home. secret dating. jungwon is hot when jealous, suggestive, fluff summary: your coworkers think that you and niki look cute together while jungwon, your boyfriend is literally standing next to you and it's driving him insane. word count: 3.5k author's note: hey everyone! as promised, i'm here to serve another paramedic jungwon brainrot because it's not fair to just devour this cutesy alone. enjoy and leave some notes <3 read part 1 first and reply if you want to get tagged for the next parts!

You’re midway through a lukewarm coffee in the hospital cafeteria when your coworker leans in, voice low and eyes gleaming with intrigue. “So…” she starts, drawing the word out slowly, “who’s the lucky guy?”

It takes you a second, but the question sinks in just as she tilts her head, nodding toward your neck with a smirk. Your hand instinctively rises to the spot Jungwon’s lips had claimed last night, right at the juncture of your neck and shoulder—a parting gift as you’d curled up together, something you didn’t think twice about until now.

A blush surges to your cheeks. “What? Oh, no, that’s… I scratched it too hard,” you say quickly, heat rising not only from the surprise but the memory of last night—Jungwon’s sleepy grin, the way he’d pulled you close, whispering in your ear as he pressed soft kisses down the curve of your neck.

“Sure you did,” she teases, crossing her arms as her smirk widens. “You’re going to need a better excuse than that. So… is it Niki?”

“What?” you laugh, the idea so out of the blue it’s almost comical. “Niki? Why would you even think that?”

She shrugs, the smugness on her face never faltering. “You always have a soft spot for him. You never scold him like the rest of us. Plus, everyone’s seen the way he hovers around you in the halls, he’s clearly smitten.”

Your eyes widen at the notion. Niki, your young, eager junior who fumbles his way through shifts and who you can’t help but look after because he’s new and a little too starry-eyed for his own good? It’s laughable. “It’s not like that,” you manage, shaking your head. “He’s just… young, that’s all.”

“Mhmm,” she says with a knowing chuckle. “Sure, if you say so.”

Before you can protest further, your phone vibrates. Glancing down, you find a message from Jungwon: a photo of his lunch, neatly arranged with a sweet message beneath it. “Eat well, ily.”

The casual intimacy of it makes your stomach flip, and you feel an involuntary smile tugging at your lips. You quickly swipe away the notification, hoping she didn’t see the smile or the faint hearts in your eyes.

The day unfolds in the usual rush of patient check-ins, chart updates, and emergency calls. You busy yourself to the point where the cafeteria conversation drifts from your mind—until you catch a glimpse of yourself in the break room mirror and spot the faint outline of that now-infamous hickey, the concealer having barely managed to mask it. You tug your collar higher, hoping to hide it through the rest of the shift.

The afternoon in the ER has been a blur of movement and urgency, leaving you barely a moment to breathe. Every time an ambulance pulls up, your heart skips a beat, half-hoping, half-dreading that it’ll be Jungwon walking through those doors.

But each time, it’s someone else, and you return to the steady rhythm of your work, instructing Niki at your side as he follows your lead. Despite the tense environment, he’s attentive and focused, learning from you as he manages each step of the patient’s treatment with remarkable ease.

Afterward, you and Niki head back to the department office, the adrenaline settling as you both chat lightly, unwinding from the chaotic pace. As you enter, you spot Jungwon down the corridor, heading the other way with a stack of documents.

It’s almost comical how, even amidst the bustling hospital, his presence stands out so starkly to you. For a split second, he glances your way, and the fleeting moment feels charged, pulling your attention and making it impossible to look away. But as soon as your eyes meet, you glance down, hoping no one notices how that brief connection leaves your pulse racing.

Once back at your desk, you feel your coworkers’ eyes on you, their curious glances flickering between you and Niki. You try to brush it off as nothing, settling into your usual seat, with Niki across from you. Just as you’re starting to sift through some files, Jungwon’s familiar stride enters the department office.

His easy confidence fills the room, and he greets everyone with that understated charm, heading to a nearby colleague to ask for specific documents. You’re not even looking at him, but his presence is impossible to ignore. You focus on your papers, hoping that looking busy might steady your nerves, but the pages blur in front of you, your mind too distracted by the fact that he’s just a few steps away.

Then, just as you’re juggling a pile of documents, you accidentally knock over your iced coffee. The mostly empty cup clatters over, spilling what’s left onto your coat. The moment the coffee splashes onto your coat, Niki and Jungwon are both at your side in an instant. Niki’s quick to pull out a box of tissues, while Jungwon silently holds out a pristine handkerchief, a touch of annoyance already flickering in his gaze.

Caught off-guard, you instinctively reach for Niki’s tissues, leaving Jungwon standing there with his handkerchief, his jaw tightening slightly as he watches you dab at the stain.

Your coworkers notice the scene and immediately latch onto it, their laughter filling the room. "Oh, come on, you two," one of them teases, grinning at the pair of you. "Why don’t you just date already?”

Another chimes in, "Yeah, it’s obvious there’s something going on. I mean, look how attentive Niki is—always ready to help you out."

You wave them off, laughing it away, but the teasing only grows louder. Someone else playfully nudges Niki. "What’s next, bringing her coffee in the morning?"

Niki laughs, scratching the back of his head, visibly flustered. "Come on, guys, we’re just… coworkers," he insists, though his blush only adds fuel to the fire.

Meanwhile, you can feel Jungwon’s gaze on you, sharper and more intense than ever. His silence speaks volumes; the usual relaxed confidence he carries seems to be tinged with something harder, a jealousy that simmers just beneath the surface. It unsettles you, tugging at something guilty inside as the teasing around you grows.

Suddenly, Jungwon steps forward to you, interrupting the chatter with a clipped tone. "Enough with the tissues,” he says, leveling his gaze at you, a glint of challenge in his eyes. "Stop fussing with that coat—you’re only making it worse. Change into something clean, or the smell will stick with you all day.”

The room falls silent, your coworkers exchanging amused glances. You roll your eyes, unwilling to let him get the last word.

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Practicality. I can handle a few drops of coffee,” you retort, folding your arms and meeting his gaze with a defiant tilt of your chin.

He raises an eyebrow, a slow smirk forming on his lips.

"Right, because dealing with a coffee stain is something you’re well-prepared for," he says dryly, folding his arms to match yours. "Clearly, practicality isn’t your strong suit."

You scoff, refusing to back down. "And since when did you become an expert in coffee stain management? It’s barely noticeable, and I’m perfectly fine with it."

Jungwon’s gaze doesn’t waver, the challenge sparking between you both as he leans in just a fraction, his voice lower. "Just because you’re fine with it doesn’t mean everyone else is." His eyes flick down to the stain and then back up to yours, a knowing glint in them.

Your coworkers are watching with raised brows, amused but also visibly intrigued by the tension between the two of you. "Are we interrupting something?” one of them jokes, breaking the silence. "Honestly, the way you two bicker is like a married couple."

The comment makes you blush, but Jungwon doesn’t flinch. Instead, he holds your gaze, his smirk deepening. "At least one of us knows how to handle these little emergencies,” he quips, voice steady, though there’s a hint of something raw behind his eyes—a hint of jealousy that only you can catch. The way he’s looking at you, there’s no mistaking it: he’s anything but amused by the teasing around Niki.

But before you can respond, Niki steps forward, awkwardly placing his coat over your chair. “Um, here,” he says, clearly trying to ease the tension. “You can wear mine for now if the coffee’s bothering you that much.”

The room erupts into more laughter, someone nudging Niki with a grin. "See? He’s a gentleman. Really, you two should just make it official."

Another coworker teases, "Or maybe they already have, and they’re just not telling us."

Jungwon’s expression hardens as he watches the exchange, his eyes narrowing. His gaze flickers from Niki to you, a frustration simmering beneath his calm facade.

You feel the tension growing, an almost tangible weight of jealousy in the way his jaw clenches, his fingers tapping restlessly against his thigh.

Finally, he speaks up, cutting through the laughter with a controlled but slightly irritated tone. "Enough of the matchmaking." His gaze falls pointedly on you, something possessive flickering there, though he masks it quickly. "And you should change. That coffee smell won’t just vanish."

You narrow your eyes at him, refusing to back down. "If it bothers you so much, why don’t you bring me a change of clothes yourself?"

"Thanks," he says shortly, taking the stack of paperwork with a polite nod. He turns back to you and your coworkers, offering a quick, “See you all later. Take care, everyone.” His voice is casual, but as his gaze lingers on you for a fraction of a second longer, you feel the weight of everything left unsaid.

With that, Jungwon strides toward the door, his usual self-assured calm back in place. You watch him leave, but just as he reaches the exit, your phone buzzes in your hand. You glance down, your pulse quickening as you read the message from him:

“I have something you can change into in the back of the car.”

It’s simple, yet there’s something about it that makes your stomach flip. You glance up just in time to catch Jungwon’s silhouette disappearing down the hallway, feeling the tension of the moment linger in the air long after he’s gone.

The rest of your shift rolls by with its usual demands, and you brush off the incident from earlier, deciding against getting the change of clothes Jungwon offered. By the time you finally clock out, the sun is setting, casting a warm glow over the nearly empty parking lot. Just as you step out of the hospital doors, Jungwon’s car pulls up in front of the exit.

You feel a small smile tugging at your lips as you walk over and slip into the passenger seat. “Hey,” you greet him, but his focus remains straight ahead, his hands firm on the wheel, his paramedic uniform clinging to his form. The sight of him in that navy blue uniform, complete with the badge and patches, usually makes your heart race, but today his expression is unreadable. A flicker of surprise hits you. Jungwon, who is usually quick with a playful remark, doesn’t even turn his head as you settle in, leaving you feeling a bit deflated.

You tilt your head, watching him closely, noticing the slightest crease of annoyance in his brow. With a slight pout, you try breaking the ice, “So, how was your day?”

He answers, but his tone is clipped, barely more than a few words. "Busy. The usual."

You blink, feeling a hint of tension in the air. Normally, he’d be cracking jokes or filling the car with easy chatter, but now he’s focused on the road with a seriousness that feels almost uncharacteristic.

Leaning back in your seat, you give him a sideways glance. “Is this about the clothes?” you finally ask, crossing your arms as you look at him. “Are you upset I didn’t change into them?”

A quick denial. “No,” he says, a bit too fast, but still refusing to look your way.

You can’t help but smile a little, noticing his hands gripping the wheel tighter than usual. “Uh-huh. Doesn’t sound like you’re not upset,” you tease, leaning forward to get a better look at his face.

“I’m not upset,” he repeats, but he’s biting his lip, eyes fixed stubbornly ahead as if he’s hyper-focused on the road. His brow furrows, and he lets out a soft sigh.

“Come on, Jungwon, it’s cute when you sulk,” you say, your smile widening at the way his jaw clenches ever so slightly, revealing his irritation in the most subtle way.

This finally gets a reaction. He glances at you, his eyes narrowing just a little. “I’m not sulking,” he mumbles, but the denial lacks its usual conviction.

“You look pretty sulky to me,” you murmur, enjoying the rare moment of catching him off guard.

Just then, the car comes to a stop at a red light, and you glance over to find him holding a long breath, his expression somewhere between frustration and fondness. The tension in the air shifts slightly as he turns his gaze towards you, and in that moment, you feel the familiar flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

Without breaking eye contact, he places his right hand gently on your lap, rubbing small circles with his thumb. The warmth of his touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, igniting that familiar spark between you two. It’s a simple gesture, yet it feels so intimate, especially with the way he’s staring at you as if he’s trying to convey everything he can’t say out loud.

He resumes driving as the light turns green, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead, but his voice softens, a hint of vulnerability slipping through the usual bravado. “I’m not upset,” he assures you, though the sincerity behind his words hints at something deeper, something he’s wrestling with beneath the surface.

You can’t help but smile at him, the weight of his earlier mood lifting slightly. “Then what’s with the whole silent treatment? You know you can just tell me, right?”

Jungwon shakes his head, a faint smile creeping onto his face despite his mood.

“It’s more complicated than that,” he says, his voice maintaining a lightness that’s undercut by an earnest edge. “I don’t want to be the guy who gets all worked up over people assuming you and Niki are a thing.”

You bite your lip, the realization sinking in that his jealousy is more about their perceptions than the spilled coffee earlier.

“Well, I’m definitely not dating Niki,” you reply softly, trying to ease his tension. “He’s just a good coworker. You know that.”

He glances at you briefly, the corner of his mouth twitching in a smile as he focuses back on the road.

“Good,” he mutters, his hand still gently rubbing your thigh, sending tingles coursing through you. The intimacy of the gesture makes your heart race.

He passes another intersection and accelerates, the car moving smoothly through the streets.

“But you know,” you continue, trying to keep the mood light, “if you were just a little quicker with your offer, I wouldn’t have to deal with all this teasing.”

Jungwon lets out a soft chuckle, the tension in the car easing slightly. “I thought I was quick enough,” he says, a playful tone returning to his voice. “How was I supposed to know you’d be so stubborn?”

“Stubborn? Me? Never,” you tease, rolling your eyes dramatically.

He shakes his head with a laugh, his grip tightening slightly on your thigh, a subtle reminder of the unspoken bond between you two. As he navigates the streets, the silence stretches comfortably, punctuated only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sound of traffic.

“Hey, you should know,” you add after a moment, “if you want to make sure I’m not wearing Niki’s clothes, maybe you should just… keep me in yours.”

Jungwon raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Is that your way of saying you want me to dress you?”

“Maybe,” you reply coyly, biting your lip again, the playful banter making you feel bold.

He laughs, shaking his head as he pulls into a quiet parking lot. “You really know how to make me feel like I’m the jealous one, huh?”

“Just speaking the truth,” you say, leaning back into the seat, enjoying the rhythm of the moment.

As he turns off the engine, the atmosphere shifts slightly, the playful banter fading into a more intimate silence. Jungwon finally meets your gaze, his expression earnest. “Just so you know, it’s not about Niki. I just…” he trails off, searching for the right words. “I want to be the one you lean on, the one you trust.”

Your heart swells at his confession, a warmth spreading through you. “You are, Jungwon. You’re the one I always want to lean on.”

He smiles, a genuine light returning to his eyes, and in that moment, everything feels right.

When you arrive at your apartment, Jungwon opens the door for you, the familiar scent of your space washing over you. As soon as you step inside, he follows closely behind, and before you can even set your bag down, he closes the door and turns to face you.

In an instant, the air between you shifts. Jungwon steps forward, his hands gripping your waist as he pulls you closer. You barely have time to react before he captures your lips with his in a deep, passionate kiss that takes your breath away. The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you and the electric tension that crackles in the air.

His lips move against yours with a fervor that surprises you, and you feel your heart racing, responding instinctively as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He deepens the kiss, his mouth coaxing yours open as he explores the sweetness of your taste. It’s intoxicating, and you lose yourself in the moment, your worries and doubts melting away.

In the midst of the kiss, he breaks away for just a moment, breathless and looking down at you with those soft eyes. “I can still smell the coffee,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You giggle, feeling heat rise to your cheeks, the reminder of the earlier incident making you giddy. “Well, I didn’t exactly plan for that to happen,” you reply, your voice teasing but breathless.

“Maybe I should get you a proper change of clothes next time,” he quips, his eyes sparkling with mischief. But then he adds, more seriously, “You should probably take those off; the smell will cling to you.”

His suggestion sends a thrill through you, and you find yourself biting your lip in excitement. “Are you sure that’s the only reason you want me to take them off?” you tease, your heart racing as you lean closer, feeling the warmth radiating from him.

He chuckles softly, but there’s a glint of something deeper in his eyes. “Okay, maybe it’s a little selfish,” he admits, his breath ghosting over your skin as he moves in even closer.

With a playful grin, you decide to indulge him. “Fine, but only if you do too,” you say, your fingers finding the buttons of his uniform. You start to unbutton it, your hands trembling slightly with anticipation. Each button that comes undone reveals more of his toned physique, and your breath hitches as you take in the sight of him.

As your fingers glide over the fabric, Jungwon watches you, his expression a mixture of desire and admiration. “You know, this might be the best idea you’ve ever had,” he murmurs, his voice low and enticing.

You finally push the uniform off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. In that moment, the playful atmosphere shifts into something more intimate. He captures your lips again, and you feel the heat between you both intensify as you pull away the last barriers that had been keeping you apart.

Just when you think it can't get any more intense, he pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, both of you gasping for air. “I’ve wanted to do that all day,” he admits, his breath mingling with yours, creating a palpable tension that thrums in the air.

“Why didn’t you?” you ask, your voice teasing yet filled with warmth.

“You know I can’t let everyone find out I’m dating the hottest doctor in the hospital, or else…” he argues, a playful grin breaking through his earlier seriousness.

“Oh, please,” you bite back with a smirk, playfully nudging him. “Like they wouldn’t notice that the ‘sexiest and charming paramedic’ is completely smitten.”

With a smile that could light up the room, you lean in for another kiss, feeling the world around you fade away once again as you get lost in him.

masterlist.

[abbotsanatomy]

Jack x reader

Possessive & Protective Jack. Reader is the hospital social worker. Jack finds out a grieving family member has been stalking and harassing reader.!

⨳ (I’LL BE WATCHING YOU)

pairing: jack abbot x social worker!reader warnings: age gap (28, and 49), depictions of stalking, grief, child death, epilepsy (seizures), verbal assault, physical assault. author's note: this was a rough one to write tbh! hope u like! title’s totally inspired by ‘every breath you take,’ i love double meanings lol

“Good morning!” you greet, strolling into the ER break room.

You set aside the coffees you bought for everyone. It's your turn to bring everyone their fix tonight. They're nothing fancy, as can be expected from someone who earns almost half of what everyone else around here does.

You pick one of the brown coffee cups up from the paper cupholder on the counter, “Or, Y'know. Good night?”

“Live-saver!” one of the second-year residents yells. She's quick to grab one of the coffees, too.

The few people in the break room do the same, thanking you along the way. They slowly filter out, presumably going to tell everyone the break room's stocked up again so they can get their own before it's all gone.

It's just you and Dana Evans in the small room now. She's never been one for rushing home the moment her shift's over. She always lingers, you feel like you might know her even better than the night shift's charge nurse. The affinity you have for her can also be attributed, in huge part, to the fact that the veteran charge nurse reminds you of Dr.Abbot.

“Hey, kid. I heard what happened yesterday,” she starts. “Are you good?”

Wow. Word gets around much quicker than you expected. What happened yesterday should've been less than a blip on someone like Dana's radar.

The situation in question was just a grieving parent who'd said some pretty nasty things to you. He was in shock. You understand. You have to; it's your job.

His anger was justified. You were partially responsible for him missing his kid's last few moments. The memories kept you up all day.

The girl was barely two. When they came in, she was having an epileptic seizure that wouldn't go away. Upon further investigation, the doctors, with a neuro consult, told her father there was a surgery that could reduce her seizures. He'd heard about it before, but he was skeptical.

Apparently, having had his seizing daughter in his arms, unable to do anything but wait for an ambulance changed his mind.

There was one minor problem, though. Before they could get his daughter prepped for surgery, the hospital needed his insurance documents. She was stable; this wasn't emergency surgery. So the financial aspect was, unfortunately, a priority.

“Her mother's out of town. It's just me. I can't leave her alone,” he'd told you.

“Well, she still needs to be monitored for a while. And I understand you want the surgery immediately,” you'd reasoned with him. “Maybe you can make it home and back quickly, before she wakes up.”

He was hesitant at first, but you were determined. You'd help where you can.

“I'll be with her the whole time. I promise. Our doctors will do the best they can to make sure she's comfortable and safe.”

Safe. What a stupid word to use. She wasn't safe when he came back. She was dead.

She'd had another seizure minutes after he left. The entire medical team tried their best, you know that. You were there, holding her hand through it all. Begging her to stay strong for her dad.

When he came back, he was held back by security as he shouted all kinds of evil truths at you.

“You bitch.”

“You all killed her.”

“I could've been here if it wasn't for you!”

It was all true.

His words have replayed in your mind ever since. So, no, you aren't good. But there's nothing a charge nurse you're sure has been through worse can do about it, so you won't tell her.

“Mhm, I'm fine. Don't worry about me,” you lie, straight to her face.

You have a feeling she doesn't believe you, but she's also smart enough to recognize when someone doesn't want to talk about something. So, she drops it.

“Alright. Be kind to yourself, okay? Take some time off if you need it,” she advises, and you trust her judgement. It isn't like you'll listen to her, though.

“Okay. I'll try.”

Dana walks out of the break room, but not before giving you a long hug. On a good day, you'd be soaring with happiness. Today, it makes you feel just slightly better.

You're mid-sip when your favorite attending walks in. Jack looks shocked to see you. He'd given you the exact same advice Dana just did. You'd obviously not taken it.

He walks towards the counter you're leaning against. You feel like he's about to tell you off. He just stands there for a long moment. Then, he's searching your face for something. A sign of distress, maybe?

He doesn't find whatever it is he's looking for. You smile at how ridiculous this staring habit of his is.

“Are you good?” he parrots Dana.

Your brows crease, “Have you and Nurse Evans been talking about me?”

Jack looks confused.

“I'm fine. I'm great, even. Okay?” you demand.

He nods, but it's very hesitant.

“I have a shrink. I'm seeing her after work. You don't have to worry about me,” you reiterate.

Everything he could say was said yesterday. He reassured you for thirty minutes after, brought you water and food in between patients. There's nothing more he can say right now.

He just grabs one of the coffees you brought, “Thank you.”

His tone's a little too sincere for what this is. You'll take it.

You both exit the break room and part ways to get on with your shifts. His eyes are front and center in your mind the entire time, especially when you need some comfort.

You've been on edge lately. You're flinching at things you aren't supposed to. You close your curtains whenever you're home alone. You just can't shake this feeling that you're being watched.

The 90$-an-hour therapist you visit once a month says it's a symptom of your PTSD. That's of no consequence, because the anxiety feels as real as can be. Your nerves are fried all the time.

You need a break. There's one person in particular you want to spend your time off with. He's been invited to your apartment for dinner tonight. Thankfully, Jack hasn’t embarrassed you by rejecting your invitation.

He's just texted you that he's on his way now. You're in the kitchen with your cooking playlist playing in the background. It's the kind of mellow moment you haven't experienced in weeks. You're bringing the wooden mixing spoon up to your mouth to get a taste, when the moment's rudely interrupted.

Someone's pulling you back, with their arm tightly wrapped around your throat. This isn't psychosis, paranoia, or PTSD. This is real.

You try to hit back with the spoon in your hand, but it quickly clatters to the floor, splattering soup everywhere.

Your next line of defense is clawing your way out. Literally. You scratch and pull away at the stranger's arm. It's minimally effective. You're trying to scream out for help, too. It barely comes out as a squeak.

Your vision's getting blurry, when you feel someone tackle the intruder, bringing them to the floor. You can hear an altercation happening on your floor, right next to where you're coughing up a storm, just trying to catch your breath again.

Someone's landing more than a few punches, in the distance. The sound becomes much less distressing when you realize it's Jack who has the upper hand in this fight. His eyes lack the tenderness they usually have when you’re staring back at them.

“Jack...” you croak out, trying to pull him out of it.

He stops, pulling the guy under him up by the collar. That's when you realize it's the same grieving man who was shouting at you in the middle of the PTMC’s emergency room, less than a week ago.

Jack slams him against your kitchen wall, his arm pinning the man in place by the throat. On the floor, beside you, is a set of pictures. They must've fallen from the man’s pocket mid-brawl. They're all of you. At your therapist's office. At home. At work.

He's been watching you, following you. The realization fills you with dread.

You pull your phone out and dial 911 immediately.

“Are you okay?” Jack asks, his eyes still set on the man in front of him.

“Yes, I'm fine. Be gentle,” you tell him.

He shakes his head subtly. He'd be smiling a little too, if he wasn't so angry at the man in front of him. Of course, you'd want him to be gentle with the man who was about to kill you. You've always seen the best in everyone.

He can’t ever deny you a thing, so he's as gentle as he can be, with how furious he is right now.

“911, what's your emergency?” you hear on the other end.

Jack takes care of it all. Tells the officers what happened, shows them the pictures, escorts them out. All you could manage for now was a few hums in agreement to the questions the officers asked you.

Once they left, Jack came to sit beside you on the couch. Now, he’s been staring at your neck intensely. You can tell he wants to take a look.

“Do you mind?”

“Nope,” you answer, pulling your hair to the side.

His fingers are gentle on your neck, as they graze the bruise forming there.

His voice is tight, like he's still barely containing his anger, “It looks alright. It'll just be slightly bruised.”

You nod, “Thank you. For everything.”

Your hand finds his, interlocking your fingers. He brings your joined hands up to his mouth, to place a chaste kiss onto the back of your hand. You grin, and finally look up from the spot on your carpet you’d been staring at.

There's a cut on his cheek, still bleeding. You bring your other hand to rest on his cheek, pressing your mouth to the skin beside the cut.

“Let me take care of that for you,” you offer.

It's almost like he didn't even hear you, though. “You probably shouldn't go to work tomorrow.”

You nod in agreement, “Yeah, probably.

“Can you stay?” you propose, barely louder than a whisper.

You're asking because it'd make you feel safer. He can tell. He agrees, immediately.

You pull your hand away to go grab the first aid kit in your bathroom cabinet. You're also rehearsing how you're going to convince him to sleep in your bed with you, instead of the couch. He ends up being very easy to convince.

[yundeob]

the parent trap | KHJ

part 1 of the Night in Hollywood!series

☆ trope: exes to lovers!au, divorced!au

☆ pairing: producer!hongjoong x designer!reader, dad!joong x mom!reader

☆ warnings: nsfw (mdni), swearing, mentions of food, mentions of food poisoning, female desc. reader, drinking, suggestiveness, smut, slight!breeding kink, oral sex (f. receiving), overstim, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap!) nipple play, titty sucking, marking, praise, slightdom!joong, blond!joong bc that itself is too much for me, mentions of (early) pregnancy, you’re both in your early thirties and make an unbelievably stubborn couple in this!

☆ synopsis: AS DIVORCED PARENTS to two twin daughters, you and hongjoong have your fair share of work cut out. Driving to piano lessons, cheering at hockey games, drop offs at each other’s houses, it can all be a little much. But could a relaxing summer retreat as a whole family possibly rekindle past emotions you’ve swept under the rug? . . .

☆ word count: 18.1k

☆ playlist: soulful strut by young-holt unlimited, l-o-v-e by nat king cole, just the way you are by billy joel, slipping through my fingers by abba, this will be (an everlasting love) by natalie cole

☆ a/n: it’s finally here. I can’t believe I’m writing this and saying it’s finally here oh my goodness. first off, thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who has supported me with the series so far (shoutout to @kitten4sannie , @byuntrash101 and especially @desirehorizon for being amazing!) everyone’s sweet comments have been greatly appreciated, and I just hope this silly little fic brings a smile to your everyday lives.

ty for making writing worth it as a writer. now cue the opening credits!

“ABSOLUTELY NOT” Hongjoong says.

“But dadd,” she whines, clutching the wrinkled pamphlet closer to her chest. Eunseo’s small hands are covered in purple doodles her sister drew using a glitter pen. 

“Why not?” the girl complains, shrugging her shoulders. 

He sighs, pushing his glasses up with one hand as he continues typing away at the important document the producing company sent him on his laptop. He tries his best to reason with the child.

“Because, baby…” pausing to think for a moment before responding. “It would be hard for your mom and I to find a time that fits into our schedules. I’ve got work, and she must be busy as well.” 

Eunseo glares at her father’s excuse. 

Okay, yeah, the man knows it’s somewhat of a lie, himself. 

She continues to protest by shoving the advertising pamphlet in her dads face and blocking his view of the screen. Thankfully, Hongjoong is used to these sort of work distractions, expertly avoiding her by craning his neck sideways and continuing to type away.

“But dad, it’s an amazing cottage resort! They’ve got a lake where you can go swimming in, a forest hiking trail, a bonfire to roast marshmallows and even a diner less than fifteen minutes away! So if you end up burning the camp food like last time, we can just order and eat in! Isn’t that great?” She beams. 

He stops typing for a second, fingers hovering over the keyboard as he gives his first born a look that makes her immediately break into a sweet smile, batting her lashes and flashing him a look of innocence. 

“Please?” She begs, standing on the edge of her feet as she gazes up at him. “The last time we went was when Eunbyul and me were toddlers.” 

And how on earth could any dad’s heart not melt at the sight of his daughter trying to convince him about one harmless vacation? 

Hongjoong wheels his office chair back, turning so he could look her in the eyes properly and tuck a stray hair behind her ear. 

“Listen honey, I’m sorry, I really wish I could, but…” he trails off, looking back at the open tabs and file documents displayed on his computer.

Turning his head around and upon seeing a frown form on his daughter's face, he quickly reassures her. 

“Once you finish your final piano recital tomorrow and your mom picks your sister up to take her to her hockey game, how about we go fishing the weekend afterwards?” he suggests, brows raising. “That’ll mean I have just the two of you all to myself.”

Eunseo mumbles under her breath, quiet but insistent enough that he catches it. 

“But we’re supposed to be a family of four.” 

She sulks, thinking of how that would leave you, her mother, left out of their plans. The arms holding the pamphlet up, ultimately fall down in defeat. 

He places a peck on her forehead, patting her on the back. “You know, if you can get your mom to say yes, then I’ll think about it” he chuckles, knowing the highly unlikely probability of the event.

Adjusting his glasses, the producer goes back to his work, peeking his daughter slugging away from the corner of his eye. 

Eunseo slumps her shoulders in defeat as she walks out of her dads office, turning the corner to see her twin sister, Eunbyeol, pressing her ears near the door with her neck outstretched. Clearly she’s been caught in the middle of trying to overhear their conversation. 

The twin younger by fifteen seconds quickly rushes over, waiting expectantly.

“So? What did dad say?”

Eunseo exhales, throwing the information pamphlet away on the wooden floors and slumping against the living room couch. 

“He’s totally not buggin. Said he wants to take us fishing next weekend instead. Just us three.” she grumbles. 

Eunbyeol scrunches her nose at the idea. 

“But dad sucks at fishing.”

Her sister groans, kicking her small feet against the couch in frustration. “I know!” Eunbyeol starts to worry, coming to sit beside her.

“Then how on earth are we going to get mom and dad to get back with each other again? They haven’t been in the same room since we were like, five!”

Her twin sister scoffs, “First, we gotta get them to have a proper conversation with each other. They barely even talk when they drop us off at each other's houses.”

Nobody truly knows why you and Hongjoong had divorced so suddenly when the girls were young. Not even themselves.

All they were used to were cold stares and one word replies shared amongst their parents, refusing to find harmony in their co-parenting.

Frankly, your girls have had enough of the performance you were both trying to maintain, looking past your expressions to realize you and your husband still held feelings for the other. It was only a matter of time and place in order to set you two up together, thus, the idea of an intimate, family getaway came into their minds. 

After a few moments of letting her words hang in the air, Eunbyeol’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. 

“That’s it!”

The older twin looks up quizzically, watching her sister jump off the couch and gaze at her excitedly. 

“We’ll just have to force them to meet each other! We can always guilt trip them for dropping us off at their houses and making us play alone!”

Eunseo rolls her eyes at the idea. “Right, and how are we going to do that dummy? The only reason they’d do that, was if it was an emergency.”

Whoever said twin telepathy wasn’t a thing was a liar, because the second Eunseo catches onto what her sister is saying, the twins share a look of pure mischievousness, the gears in their brains working together as one. 

With hushed whispers and quiet giggles, the twins immediately begin conducting their plan in secrecy near the corner of the living room, backs turned and in the middle of discussion when Hongjoong walks out of his office with an empty coffee mug. 

“What are you guys doing over there?”

“Leave us alone! Family man traitor!” Eunbyeol shouts, holding a slightly hostile grudge to her father before turning back to whisper to her twin. 

Hongjoong shakes his head, sighing as he heads into the kitchen. 

“Then it’s perfect! I’ll stay here with dad once my piano recital is over, and then when Mom picks you up for your hockey game tomorrow, we’ll try convincing them together!”

Eunbyeol nods her head in agreement, eyes lighting up with excitement as she whispers in a hushed tone. 

“And once both events end, we’ll pretend to be so sick that they have to take us to the nearby hospital.”

The other twin smirks. ”Where we’ll end up guilt tripping them into taking us to the cottage.”

They double high five in victory at their flawless plan, already waiting for tomorrow to come as soon as possible.

“A summer cottage?” you repeated, brows raising at the idea as you made a left turn onto your street. 

Eunbyeol nods eagerly from the back seat after getting picked up, having ranted on and on about the ad in the pamphlet since the moment you saw her.

“It's an amazing establishment mom,” She boasts, making you laugh at her words while parking the car and unbuckling your seatbelt.

“They have everything you could possibly think of!”

“Oh, really?” You say skeptically, opening the door for her. 

Eunbyeol is lost in the middle of passionately describing all the relaxing activities you could do by yourself, or rather per se, with a special partner together. 

“There’s couples hiking retreats, couples canoeing, couples yoga… did I mention couples hiking retreats?” She confuses, retracing her words. 

You roll your eyes and smile, keys jangling as you walk through the entrance of your apartment flat while balancing the bags and items in your hands.

Being a wedding dress designer and yet picking up your daughter from your ex-husband's house could’ve been ironic to some people. But after having split with Hongjoong since the girls were so young, you came to grow fond of having some independence as a divorcee, channeling your main focus into setting up your own bridal shop downtown.

It was through that hard work and focus that you did it all by yourself with no additional help.

You’d be lying if you said you haven't opened a bottle of red wine some nights due to loneliness as a divorced single mother, but at least that was what you had your daughters for.

You made sure to work just as hard as you did enjoy playing and spending time with them. After all, they were the light of your life and purpose for living.

Balancing the pizza you picked up on the way home, you set it down on the kitchen island, telling Eunbyeol to go wash her hands in the sink. The girl doesn’t stop ranting.

“There’s usually only two rooms in the cottage, so you’ll have to sleep together with dad, but I guess you won't mind, would you? After all, you were once married” She rolls her eyes, reaching for the soap.

You shake your head with a sigh. ”What is up with you and getting me and your father together in the same room?” you muttered as you took out the plates and utensils. 

Eunbyeol eventually walks back to you, wiping her hands on her baggy jeans before sitting on the kitchen stool. 

“It’s not that I’m obsessed, Mom. Actually, Eunseo and I are just dying to get away this summer now that school is over.”

Turning around from plating the pizza and salad, you chastise your daughter, telling her to sit with her bum flat on the stool so she doesn’t fall. She immediately listens, carrying on with her persuasion. 

“We just want you and dad to get the chance to relax as well, that’s all!” her mouth full from a bite of hot, greasy pizza. 

You smile, wiping your washed hands on the kitchen towel and coming over to wrap your arms around her affectionately. 

“Spending time with you and Eunseo every week is how I relax,” you assured her, smothering your baby with kisses on her cheek.

Byeol lets out a squeal of annoyance, taking another bite of her pizza. “You’re squishing me!” She tries hiding her smile, failing when you lean in closer. 

You pull back in laughter, ruffling her hair as you walk away while reminding her.

“Oh! Don’t forget you’ve got your hockey game tonight!”

Byeol chews faster, munching on the soft crust and counting down the hours on the kitchen clock. 

She smiles to herself. 

“Don’t worry, I know!”

“What do you mean you need to go to the hospital?” Hongjoong asks in a worried voice, standing against the women’s washroom stall. He holds Eunseo’s congratulatory flower bouquet for first place in hand, feeling the stares of multiple women passing by, clearly judging him for being in the ladies room with them. 

“Honey, is everything all right?” He asks worriedly. A string of groans come from behind the door.

“You need to leave!” one old lady thrusts her walking cane at the father, lips pursed in dissatisfaction. 

Eunseo did such a phenomenal job tonight for her piano recital, that Hongjoong was shocked to see his daughter clutch her stomach first thing after running down the steps of the stage, dashing to the washrooms.

He whips his head back. “My daughter’s having a bit of a situation in here, okay ma’am? Have a bit of sympathy!” He barks frustratedly out loud to the onlookers, turning back to speak in a softer voice to the stall door. 

“Eunseo, baby, talk to me, is everything alright in there? Are you sure you need to go to the hospital? Is it that bad?” 

The girl continues her acting performance, letting out fake groans while typing furiously on her cellphone. 

“Oh the pain! I think I might have food poisoning, dad!”

Seolie: How far along are u

Byeolie: Mom’s outside, banging to come in. 

Seolie: same, I told dad I needed to go to the hospital.

Eunseo lets out another groan of pain, causing Hongjoong to worry even more. 

“That’s it, Eunseo. Let me in and help you” he decides, searching his bag for a painkiller or at least some sort of medication for relief. 

The girl frantically checks her phone, eyes lighting up at the new message. 

Byeolie: Mom’s getting the car to take me to the hospital. I’ve got her convinced to call dad soon.

Eunseo types as fast as her small fingers can move, even faster than when she performed her piano solo from before. 

Seolie: Then what do I do????

Hongjoong gets slightly suspicious at the lack of sound coming from the stall, calling to his daughter again.

“Eunseo? Everything alright?”

At the next notification, the girl makes up her mind, getting the signal from her sister. 

Byeolie: play dead. Mom calling soon. See ya there.

The actress gets into character, gaining her composure before unlocking the washroom stall and holding her stomach as she stumbles into her dad’s surprised arms. 

“Eunseo!”

She wails, falling limp. “Oh, dad! Please! Take me to the hospital, it hurts too much!”

It’s truly a mystery which parent she got her acting skills from.

But she doesn’t have to tell him twice at that point. The man is already piggy backing his fainted daughter and sprinting out of the ladies washroom, reassuring her with soothing comments as he makes a beeline for the parking lot.

“Stay with me baby!” He huffs, unbeknownst to Eunseo who peeks one eye open. 

Only after he straps his daughter in the backseat and is turning on the engine does he receive a sudden phone call from you, pressing the speaker for the whole car to hear your panicked voice. You break the news to him first. 

“Eunbyeol’s severely sick. She fainted right after her hockey game.”

Hongjoong’s eyes widened. “What?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “She was holding her stomach saying she ate something wrong. Is Eunseo okay?” 

Hongjoong puts the stick into drive, backing out of the parking lot and replying in a hurry.

“She’s hit with the same thing right now. I’ll meet you at the Hospital in ten” he grunts, sweat forming on his brow as he speeds through traffic, not caring if he gets a ticket. 

Had he looked in his rear view mirror, he would have seen Eunseo sagging near the car door, clutching her stomach with a small grin on her face.

You never liked the hospital. 

The sounds of babies crying and hospital beds wheeling become the background noise, shifting nervously in your seat that was in the emergency pediatrics unit waiting area. 

Hongjoong has his eyebrows furrowed, hunched over one seat beside you as he hangs his head in his hands, knees bouncing up and down. A middle aged nurse nasally calls on the next family waiting from the front desk, boredom laced in her voice. 

You sigh, uncrossing your legs and choosing to bite at the fingernail on your right hand once realizing you’ve already done the same to all the ones on your left. 

“It’s all my fault.” Hongjoong confesses, suddenly sitting still. 

You glance to your left, watching as he sits up slowly. 

“Last thing they ate together would’ve been at my house. I probably made them sick with something I fed them,” he dejects, hanging his head down in shame. 

“It’s all my fault, god I’m so stupid!” He beats himself up. 

You have half the mind to snap at your ex-husband, anger already filling up inside you earlier when you heard Eunbyeol suggest it was something she ate at her dad’s house. You really did want to yell at him for being so bad of a chef that he sent his own daughters to the emergency pediatrics unit, undeniably relieved that Seonghwa was working tonight’s shift. 

But those cruel words sitting on the tip of your tongue are thrown away when you glance down to see your ex-husband missing a shoe on one of his feet. 

Hongjoong rushed over here so fast with Eunseo that he left his shoe behind like some sort of fairytale, Cinderella. He hasn’t even realized he wasn’t wearing one right now.

You exhaled, knowing that if there's one thing you’ve learned while parenting, it was that to have patience and understanding was a virtue. Even for your ex-husband.

“It’s not your fault,” you sighed, staring at your hands folded in your lap. 

It feels awkward when Hongjoong stops tugging at his blond locks to look at you in surprise, continuing to speak as you place a gentle hand on his thigh. 

“That could’ve happened to anyone. We don’t know yet if it was because of the food. Let’s just pray and wait and see” your voice being a sign of reliability to him. 

The man is a little shocked at your supportive nature to tell you truthfully. He delivers all the things he needs to say through his grateful gaze alone, reciprocating a small smile. 

“Didn’t think I’d see you guys tonight.” Seonghwa chuckles, walking in before Hongjoong has the chance to reply. He comes from the patient's room wearing his dashing, white doctor's coat. “Together, at that” he mumbles under his breath before looking up and flashing you a polite smile while giving his worried friend a soft pat on the back.

Hongjoong holds his breath when he asks: “How are they?”

“Better,” he tells him, flipping through some papers on his clipboard. “But it was a big shock to their bodies. They need some rest at the moment.” 

The pediatrician tries not to show his smile, standing in front of you and Hongjoong while hiding his expression behind his clipboard as per his niece’s request.

To be fair, if someone had told Seonghwa earlier that evening that he would receive a fifteen minute pep talk from his best friend's twin daughters that day in the emergency unit, he would’ve laughed in their faces. 

Alas, life was always filled with surprises. Here’s what went down thirty minutes earlier in the hospital room:

“We’re trying to get them back together,” Eunseo announced confidently, sitting next to her sister on the hospital bed. 

Eunbyeol nodded, eyeing the dumbfounded medical professional standing in front of them with his clipboard tucked under his arm, hands in his pockets. 

“So.. you guys don’t need an IV drip?”

“It’s this whole entire thing, Uncle Hwa, we’ll explain to you later.”

It took a minute before Seonghwa reclaimed his composure as an adult, chastising the twins for pulling a false alarm over something like this. He made sure to make them promise him they wouldn’t do something stupid like this again. But after that, of course Seonghwa is immediately pairing to help them with their plan on getting his best friend back together with his ex-wife. The man is just tired of watching Hongjoong beat himself up half the time about missing you. 

“So you essentially want me to lie about the fact that you guys don’t have food poisoning, and were just faking this whole thing so your mom and dad would have a reason to see each other.” 

The twins nod, one of them pointing out. “And make sure to tell them we’re fine of course. Maybe throw in we’re like, really sick, but that we’ll live so it’s best if we get rest.”

“At like a cottage or something” the other chimes in, wiggling her eyebrows at the hint. 

The doctor sighs, scratching his neck sheepishly. 

When Seonghwa leads you and Hongjoong into the hospital room, both of you feel awful seeing your babies laying in their beds, dressed in the children’s gowns. 

Eunbyeol peeks open her eyes first, voice hoarse (she practiced). 

“Mom? Dad? Is that you?” she groans, pretending to clutch her stomach in pain. 

Both you and Hongjoong rush to each child, grasping their hands and stroking their heads softly with sympathy. 

“Hey baby, I’m here” you coo.

“I’m so, so sorry girls, it was probably all my fault. I should’ve never cooked for you guys earlier today.” their dad cries out painfully, looking down in shame.

You come to stand beside him, reassuring them both. “But what’s important is that you guys get better now. We want to make sure you get the rest you need” you say, making eye contact with your ex-husband. 

Seonghwa clears his throat, crossing his arms as he flashes a wink to the girls behind your backs. 

“They seemed to have been mentally exhausted as well,” He asks on purpose, watching as you and Hongjoong share a look with each other. “Have they been receiving proper familial support at home?” 

“I can’t even remember the last time I saw my parents in the same room together.” Eunseo weakly admits, showing a faint smile. 

As parents, you and Joong feel the most amount of guilt anyone could ever feel. You realize how exhausting and stressful the pickups and drop offs to each other's houses could’ve been, especially when you two were so busy with your respective jobs to spend time with your daughters now that it was summer break for them. 

Hongjoong smiles, holding both their hands and making a promise to them. 

“Make sure to rest you two. Tell me, is there anything you guys need right now? Anything you guys want I'll make sure to get it for you.”

”Do you guys have crunchy ice?” Eunbyeol blurts out loud, breaking her weak facade. 

Eunseo almost wants to shoot a glare at her sister but she realizes both of you are still looking at them. 

“I can get you some ice!” Seonghwa quickly assures you and his nieces, mouthing to them good luck for support as he shuts the door behind him. 

You sigh, coming over to stroke Eunseo’s hair and caress Eunbyeol’s hand. 

“Well? Is there anything else you guys need from us?” Hongjoong states, eyes soft in sympathy. You nod, waiting to hear their response.

“Let us know girls, anything at all.”

Eunbyeol and Eunseo finally take their chance, sharing a hesitant look before speaking at the same time. 

“We want to go to the cottage”

“Together,” Eunseo says.

“As a family.” Eunbyeol adds in.

You and Hongjoong share a silent look. 

Later into the night, the twins are finally discharged from the hospital, deciding that they would stay at Hongjoong’s mothers apartment which was closest nearby, considering they were both tired and immediately needed a place to rest. 

The car ride home is awkwardly silent, even as the kids are (what you think) to be fast asleep, hockey gear and a bouquet of flowers riding with them in the backseat.

It was at their request for you to drive them to their grandmother's house, wanting both their parents with them till the ride home. Hongjoong settled on driving your car and dropping all of you off, planning to take a taxi back home and pick up his own car in the morning. Despite your protest on how inconvenient that was, he insisted as he didn’t want to disappoint the twins.

But suddenly the man begins to regret his offer, currently driving in complete silence on the highway, eyes facing forward and shoulders tense. Quiet FM nightly jazz plays from the radio. 

You’re sitting passenger seat up front with him in what feels like forever, looking solely at the reflections in the window, the street lamp lights scattering across your face as you travel through the nighttime traffic. It’s awkward being together like this.

You hear him clear his voice, speaking softly so he doesn’t wake up the girls.

“So, are we really considering that cottage retreat?” he glances back at you. 

You sit up, straightening your back and exhaling as you secretly wanted to have avoided that topic of discussion.

“We can’t Hongjoong,” you reasoned, shaking your head. “I couldn’t possibly take a whole vacation from the dress shop. Not unless I had someone take care of it for me, which my staff probably aren’t ready to do.” you explained, voice tense.

Hongjoong nodded, understanding your point of view. “I realize that. I’ve got a few projects I have to record and demo with Eden.” he tells you, an arm placed on the wheel with his sleeve rolled up. His veins become perfectly outlined as he passionately tells you about his producing job.

He’s so hot like that.

Jesus what were you thinking? Cursing your mind as you clear your voice and try to change the topic.

“How’s everything been going then?” you say stiffly. He nods, still awkward with sharing conversation with you. 

“Um, it's going good. You?” he asks.  

“Fine.” you swallow. 

Silence prevails. He’s first to speak again, building the courage to say the next thing in his mind. 

“I’m willing to put things on hold if I need to.” He confesses. 

Hongjoong continues to drive normally after having said that. Now it becomes your turn to stare at him now, watching how he glances at the side mirror, switching lanes swiftly like the pro-driver he was. 

“What do you mean?”

“Honestly, I think it would be good for the girls,” he admits, calling you by your name. Even hearing him call you your name feels weird. It feels foreign, like it almost wasn’t yours. 

“Hongjoong-” you warn, shaking your head at the warry possibility. 

“Just hear me out, alright?” He states firmly, making you quiet. 

He glances back into the rear view mirror, watching your girls peacefully asleep with their heads leaning against each other. 

“It’s been almost seven years. Seven years since they’ve last seen their parents speak to each other without breaking into a fight. Tonight was the first time they saw us together without having to plan a drop off and pick up in god knows how long.”

Hongjoong licks his lips, gripping the wheel as he emphasizes. “Seven years since they’ve gotten a goodnight hug and kiss from us at the same time in one place.”

You scoff, turning to face him properly this time. “I don’t know why you’re acting as though we can make this request of theirs come true Hongjoong. This is a big deal-”

“It is a big deal!” he exclaims, trying to get his point across. “I can see how badly our daughters want us to both be in their lives more, to acknowledge the fact that the other still exists after splitting apart.”

He sighs. “Us, not acknowledging each other’s existence at all is worse than if we had to see each other regularly.”

You bite your lip, getting angry. “So what Hongjoong? You’re saying you want to suddenly play family with them at the cottage?”

You shrug your shoulders. “Do you really think we can pretend to be normal parents to them without fighting like we are now? There’s a reason why our current schedules work. Don’t make me seem like the bad guy for not wanting to take them.” You glared, pointing a finger at him. His jaw locks. 

“You fully knew the lifestyle changes we would need to make as a couple when you signed those legal papers—”

“Well then did you also predict everything that happened after you brought me those papers?” He spits like venom, gaze hard as he clenches the wheel.

You blink your eyes at his words, pressing your knees together at his sudden attack. 

You don’t remember clearly if you even meant what you said at the time when you threw those papers at him seven years ago. But all you still know is that Hongjoong was just as stubborn as you were, making up his mind to sign them in the end regardless.

Looking in the rear view mirror, you muttered to him quietly. 

“Don’t raise your voice. The kids are sleeping.”

Their dad scoffs, muttering a sure, under his breath as he switches lanes. 

The kids were in fact, not sleeping, and very much awake. Eyes closed but ears wide, as they were listening in to the first real discussion their parents were having in so long. Or perhaps it was an argument?

At the right turn into his mother’s apartment’s underground parking lot, Hongjoong shuts off the engine, getting out of the car without another word and shutting the door in your face. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose, hear the back door open. 

You watch in the corner of your vision as his demeanor immediately changes, softly caressing Eunseo and Eunbyeol’s hair. 

“Hey girls, we’re here now. You gotta wake up.” He coos.

They yawn theatrically, pretending to stretch their arms. 

“So soon?” Eunbyeol mumbles.

A few feet ahead, you see your mother in law walking out from the elevators, a knit cardigan wrapped around her small frame. You smiled, getting out of the car and greeting her first. 

“We’ll leave Eunbyeol’s hockey gear with you for the night if that’s alright Mom-” 

Hongjoong’s words are cut off as the woman who birthed him walks straight past him, ignoring him and immediately taking you in her warm embrace, eyes forming crescent moons. 

“How are you my dear?” she asks, causing you to smile and hug your mother in law affectionately. “It’s been so long, I’ve missed you so much!”

Despite the break up between you and Hongjoong, you were thankful for one thing, and that was the fact that your relationship with Hongjoong’s family stayed strong, especially with Mrs. Kim.

“I’ve missed you too” you tell her genuinely. “I’ve been good, I’m just sorry for dropping them off so suddenly at your place,” You say, feeling apologetic for waking her up late into the night. 

“We had a bit of a situation,” you explain, watching as Hongjoong collects their things. 

She shakes her head, reassuring you. “Nonsense! Why would you be sorry for that.” she grins, turning her head at the car. “And where are my girls, may I ask?”

At the sound of her voice, Eunbyeol and Eunseo dash out from the back seat and into their grandmother's welcoming arms, pressing soft kisses to her cheeks.

Hongjoong is the only person that stands all alone, awkwardly holding the bouquet of flowers with heavy hockey gear and a duffle bag perched on his shoulder. 

“Oh, how I’ve missed my little squirrels!” she exclaims using their signature pet name and happily reuniting with her grandchildren. 

She turns her head, face falling at the sight of her son and lips pursing into a frown. 

“And where on earth have you been? Not giving me a call!” she snaps, slapping her son on his back. Eunbyeol laughs out loud while Eunseo tries to keep her giggles in. 

You hear your ex husband protest to her while you close the back seat door. 

“OW! I’ve been busy alright?” he mumbles, massaging his sore arm. 

Your mother in law takes both the twins hand’s on each side, nodding her head to you. 

“Leave all the kid’s stuff to Hongjoong, he’ll take care of it darling” she smiles sweetly, sending a glare to her son to take a hint and be more of a gentleman to you. She walks away with her smiling granddaughters, exchanging light-hearted giggles and excitement. “Bye, mom!” The twins wave back. 

Hongjoong cranes his head up, sighing at the ceiling before taking Eunseo’s piano bag that you were holding in your hand in one swift motion, walking reluctantly behind the three. 

“Stay here. I’ll drop them off.” he briskly walks away, leaving you stunned. 

Hongjoongs words from before can’t help but replay inside your head as you wait for him to come back down. 

Before you guessed it, it was already the ride back home, and the car was painfully silent once again. In reality, you were each thinking deeply to yourselves about the possibility of the cottage retreat. Could you really be a mom and dad together as a couple to your kids?

“Are you giving your plants enough water?” He brings you out of thought, the car slowing down as he turns onto your street. 

You look up, giving him a confused look. 

Hongjoong nods in direction, following his eyes to look at the measly, dying flower pot perched on the steps of your flat’s entrance as the car stopped to a halt. “You know, it’s really hard for plants to die when they’re outside.” He says in amazement at your shit gardening. 

You scowl at him, asking him when he became such a plant expert all of a sudden. 

He continues to poke fun at you, smirking when he undoes his seat belt. Hongjoong suddenly leans over to help you unbuckle your own, face dangerously close to yours as he lowers his voice. 

“Unless their owner just really sucks at taking care of them.” 

His eyes gaze into yours for a split second, feeling your face heat up from the proximity. You let out a tiny gasp for air when he leans back in his own seat. 

“Fuck off” you replied harshly. 

“You should give them some more care,” he suggests, ignoring your swearing. 

You don’t reply to his stupid comment, refusing to look at him as you get out of the car. 

“I can go in by myself” you press, adjusting the strap of your purse on your shoulder. You didn’t think it was necessary to draw out your time with this man any further.

Hongjoong straightens his dress shirt as he moves to your side of the car, shoving his own car keys in his trousers as he locks your doors and hands over the keys. You take them hesitantly, watching as he rests against the car door, strong arms crossing against his chest. 

“Think about it at least.” he mutters to you. 

You look at him, eyes shutting softly when you realize he was still talking about the cottage getaway. Sighing his name is exasperation, you run a hand through your hair. 

“Hongjoong-”

“Would it kill you to spend a week with me and our daughters?” He scoffs as he asks you straight up, looking at you in a way that makes you hesitate to say your next words. You observed one hand come to shuffle with the silver lighter in his trouser pockets. 

You stayed silent for a moment, genuinely thinking back to your daughters and what this meant to them if you went. What this would mean for you two as well. 

Finally, you look up to him, returning his gaze.

“I need time.” 

He nods, face serious. “I understand.”

“Let me think about it.” You mumbled. 

And with that you turn around, walking up the steps to your front door. At the sight of your flowerpot, you quickly remember his comment and snatch it in your hands, slamming the door shut to Hongjoong as he finally lets a soft grin break out on his face. Letting his back come up from leaning against the door, Hongjoong nods his head, satisfied enough at that answer, as he walks silently down the road while opening his Uber app. 

At least you’d give it some thought. 

Okay, maybe now you’ve given it too much thought. 

Sipping your fifth glass of wine of the night, you’re sitting, back hunched over with your knees tucked into your chest on the breakfast table chair, zoning out as your best friend Sophie continues barking at you and your inconsistent commitment. 

“I don’t even understand why you’re considering going! Does the man realize what it takes to leave your own shop for a full week?” she fumes, adjusting her royal jelly sheet mask while cursing at your ex-husband for pressuring you into going to the family retreat. 

“Not everyone can just pack their bags and go swimming at the cottage, Jesus Christ” she rolls her eyes. 

“He didn’t pressure me,” you told her pouting. “He wants to do it for the kids” you mumbled looking down as you defended him. 

You invited your best friend Sophie over to your apartment that evening for your weekly slumber party, a time you each looked forward to dedicating a bottle of wine and chardonnay over some gossip, spilling all the uneventful drama in your lives. 

Perhaps you revealed too much drama to your best friend tonight. 

“I don’t think I would mind going, to be honest” you hiccup, words slurring. “I haven’t had a vacation in so long, Sophie, and the girls really want to go! I would feel bad for leaving them with nothing to do this summer.” confessing through the alcohol. 

Cheeks flushed, you sigh as you play with your silk robe mindlessly while Sophie shakes her head at you, one hand coming up to snap at you and bring you back to reality. 

“Hello? Earth to Ms. Divorcee?” She sighs, rolling her eyes in frustration. “You said you wanted to set boundaries with him! To cut the line straight and keep your distance so you could get over your feelings for him! Show him who’s boss!” 

“He said he’s willing to put his music projects on hold for us,” you muttered quietly, the thought making your heart weak as you smiled at the memory of Hongjoong teasing you about your flower pot. Your chest blossomed with warmth now. 

Sophie sighs, shaking her head as she thinks just how differently you were feeling four wine glasses ago.

“Listen, honey, I’m just warning you in advance” she sips the golden liquid in her glass before placing it on the table. 

“Take it from a girl who’s had three divorces. I mean look at me! I’m still somewhat young, I’ve got no kids, no responsibilities, filthily rich, and not once have I had to pay for my own divorce settlement fees!” 

You nod mindlessly, eyes blinking softly under the bright kitchen lights. 

“What you need is a provider, sweetheart,” she crooned, caressing your head. 

“A guy who won’t leave you stressed and unimpressed like Hongjoong does.”

You continue mindlessly nodding your head at her words, ears perking up when you hear small footsteps come down the stairs. 

“Hi mom, Hi aunt Sophie.” Eunbyeol greets, eyes glued to her iPad that Eunseo trails after from behind, whining how it was now her turn to play Super Mario.  

“Hi girls,” Sophie replies like the cool, hot aunt she is, eyes shut as she’s concentrating on giving herself a collarbone massage right now. 

“Hey sweetheart,” you mumbled, smiling at your daughters standing near the fridge getting a glass of water. 

“Say, did your dad tell you guys anything about the cottage?” You blurt out loud, avoiding the look that Sophie gives you. Eunbyeol looks up from the glowing screen, ears perking in interest. “No, not much, why?” 

Eunseo snatches the iPad from her twin, coming over to you. “Did Dad say we’re going?” She asks enthusiastically, eyes widening. Sophie is quick to assure them. 

“Now of course not girls, your mother here was just-”

“Oh fuck it, why not?” you say confidentially, shining a bright smile. “Let’s go to the cottage!” You exclaimed in drunk excitement, all three girls staring at you with their jaws hanging at your sudden profanity as well as your final decision. 

Oh, how dangerous the effects of a bottle of wine were. 

Eunseo and Eunbyeol immediately embrace each other in a passionate hug, squealing in excitement that their plan actually worked. You and Hongjoong were now both convinced. “Oh my gosh, we’re going to go as a family!” They cried in happiness. You giggled at their joy, reciprocating their enthusiasm.  

Sophie leans back in her seat defeated, shaking her head with pursed lips as she picks up the whole Chardonnay bottle and sips it. 

“Oh whatever. . . This isn’t my problem anyways.” 

When Hongjoong drops by the next morning to pick up Eunbyeol and Eunseo from your house for the weekend, he can’t lie but be a little heartbroken at the way his daughters ignore his kiss to them first thing. They instead, immediately shove the cottage advertising pamphlet in his face with victorious grins. 

“See! We told you mom would say yes!” 

“Say yes to what?” He pouts, avoiding the paper and obsessively trying to peck a kiss to each of his daughter's cheeks. The idea of going to the cottage almost slipped the busy man’s mind after almost a week of no news from you. 

“What’s so important that you guys don’t even say hi to me anymore?” he sulks.

Eunseo giggles, fighting back her laughter when her dad tries to tickle her with his kisses. 

“We’re going to the cottage!”

Hongjoong stills himself, leaning back to make sure he heard her correctly. 

“We’re what?”

Eunbyeol, taking after her mother, has a cheeky expression on her face as she places her hands on her hips and sasses her father. 

“Pack your bags and swimming shorts, daddy, we’re going on a family vacation!” 

In perfect timing, you manage to stumble out your front door, coffee mug in hand and mid-yawn when you realize Hongjoong is already staring at you in shock. 

“What?” you snap, still grumpy from your slight hangover. “You’ve never seen a woman wake up before?” You replied, asking your kids if they packed all their stuff. 

The twins watch as their dad stands up from his crouched position. 

“You’re going to go to the cottage?”

At Hongjoongs words you freeze, everything coming back to you all at once. The wine, the twins, the promises, it hits you like a moving truck. 

“Well…”

“No take backs mom! You said it yourself last night that you were excited to go to the cottage!” One of the twins pointed out. 

Hongjoong doesn’t take his eyes off of you. 

“I-I did say that, didn’t I?” You chuckled sheepishly, toes curling at the rookie mistake you made in parenting 101: saying yes when you should’ve said no. 

Your ex-husband quickly tells the kids to put their things in the trunk, promising he’ll be right with them after talking to you. As Hongjoong dashes up the stairs in his white polo golf shirt, you feel slightly exposed being in only your silk slip dress and robe. 

“I didn’t realize you’d be here so early” you mumbled, looking down at your toes. 

He ignores you. “So I’m guessing we’re going then?” He smirks, looking at you with an expression of undeniable cockiness and peaked interest. 

You shrug nonchalantly. “Let’s surround the focus of this trip towards the kids” you remind him, straightening your back.

Hongjoong nods, agreeing with you wholeheartedly. “Of course, that was my intention from the beginning,” he smiles. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, unnoticing his stare drop at your breasts perking up from the cool morning air. You jump in surprise as you hear the honking of the car. 

“Come on, love birds! We gotta go back to dad’s to get our swimming stuff!” Eunbyeol cackles, leaning from the backseat into the driver's seat window. Eunseo already begins journaling in her hello kitty note book, an organized list of what she’ll need to bring to the cottage.

Hongjoong looks back at his daughters, before looking back at you with a smile. 

“Let’s keep in touch about details, alright?”

You nod silently, gripping your mug. At the sound of your nextdoor neighbor coming out, Hongjoong contemplates for a moment before quickly leaning forward, shielding you from their view with his backside. Clearing his throat, Hongjoong nods his head to the inside of your house, leaning forward to whisper to you. 

“Think, um, you should get inside, it’s getting cold,” he mutters, his dimples faintly showing. You glare up at him, “I’m going to say goodbye to my own daughters”. Still clueless to what he was referring to. He grins, shrugging his shoulders before looking at you. 

“If you insist. Just thought you wouldn’t want your neighbor to see what I can see, would you?”

You gasp at his words, looking down at your chest to see what he means before wrapping your robe around you. You quickly waved goodbye to your girls before you shut the door in Hongjoong’s smug face. 

It’s now become the second time you’ve done that.

Thankfully, the next time you see Hongjoong you’re wearing a much more appropriate outfit. In a white cotton blouse and casual jean shorts, your effortlessly chic vacation outfit was the only highlight today, considering the day you had been internally dreading for so long was finally here. 

You tried to take deep breaths while scurrying all over your house and finishing some last minute packing. Reassuring yourself that a family getaway couldn’t kill you. 

Right?

Reservations at the cottage were made over the phone last week, booking a house with the perfect lake side view, access to the forest trail and close proximity to the offered activities. It would only be a seven day stay, both in your respective rooms, (you clearly emphasized you and Hongjoong had to have separate ones) while the twins would lodge together. You had no intention of interacting with your husband alone together on this trip, apart from the quote on quote, ‘family bonding times’ you promised your daughters. And yet why were you here sweating nervously like a sinner in church?

“What a hot lady!” Eunbyeol wolf-whistles at your outfit when she walks through your bedroom doors. You jump at the sudden entrance, realizing Hongjoong was already here to pick you up with the girls.

A pair of black designer sunglasses slightly too big for her sat perched on her nose. Eunbyeol smiles before jumping onto your bed of clothes. You already know Hongjoong must’ve spoiled her and her sister with those, buying them a pair each.

“C’mon Byeol, off the bed” you quipped, packing your toothbrush as she reluctantly slugged off the covers. 

Your suspicions of Hongjoong buying them designer items are correct when Eunseo walks in, classily perching her matching white ones on her head before chastising her sister's tasteless compliment. 

“Elegant. She’s Elegant, Byeol. You don’t just go around wolf-whistling at people.” she rolls her eyes. 

“You look very pretty by the way, mom”

You smiled, nevertheless pleased at both their compliments and thanking them before going back to doing a last minute check of your things. 

Sun cream, clothes, makeup bag, swimsuit…

At the thought of your swimsuit you immediately blush, thinking back to how Sophie forced you to borrow her yellow bikini that left very little to the imagination. Despite your protests that you wouldn’t be needing it, she insisted. 

Hongjoong is last to walk through your front doors, swinging his car keys around his index finger and calling to his three girls from the downstairs foyer of your apartment. The man is clearly excited for the trip, he can’t lie. 

“Come on ladies, we’re gonna miss the chance to swim in that lake if we don't leave soon!” 

Hongjoong is your typical dad, except for the fact that he does not mess with dad!fashion. The producer is dressed classily from top to bottom in a loose-fitting designer button up with a pair of reformed denim pants, his pearl earrings and gold piercings complementing his outfit perfectly. 

Kim Hongjoong didn't play when it came to fashion. Even as a father. 

“Coming!” You exclaimed, ushering your kids out of your bedroom and making your way down the stairs with your suitcase. Seeing that it would only be a week at the cottage, you tried to pack light, though you may have to reconsider that thought with the way you struggled to lift the case properly. 

“Need some help?”

A strong hand comes to help you, immediately inhaling the scent of Hongjoong’s cologne as he brushes his knuckles near yours. “Here, I’ve got it” he assures, making you step back and admire your undeniably fine husband. 

Ex-husband. You meant Ex-husband. Scratch out the fine as well. 

You watch from behind as he struts out the foyer, smiling and joking playfully with his twin daughters, carrying your luggage out the door with them. 

What was this trip doing to you?

Once you’re on route to the cottage resort and the GPS is set, the car is blissfully quiet, each and every one of you surprisingly at peace. Jittery excitement still lays deep in your daughters' minds as you overhear them talk about what they want to do first once they arrive. 

Hongjoong’s 2000s soft rock and ballad playlist is playing quietly throughout the speakers right now, relishing in the music as luscious, green trees flash by you from the passenger window. 

While Byeol and Eunseo distract each other on their own, Hongjoong turns to talk to you. 

“I’m not going to lie, it’s been forever since I’ve been on a road trip” he smiles.

You copy him, feeling good in the moment. “Same, I don’t remember the last time I went to one.” you confessed, thinking only of all the times you had in the past when you were a child and as a teenager. 

Even back to when you were a young college student, wide eyed and so innocent to the chaos of your first college retreat with Hongjoong. That was the summer you two began dating, and boy were you fools in love. You cautiously look to your husband driving, bringing up past memories.

“Do you remember that one college retreat we went on during second year?” 

The corners of Hongjoong’s lips are already grinning upwards, smiling as he reciprocates your expression. 

“Right, like I could forget that summer” he replies sarcastically, gripping the steering wheel. 

It’s an easy memory to digest. A time when you were both so young, filled with nothing but dreams and passionate love for one another. Love so deep, that you remember the nights you’d spend locked up with Hongjoong under the sweaty bed sheets inside your cabin, blissfully making love until the sun would rise and he would finally kiss you to sleep. Perhaps, it was that summer when you realized you were going to marry and be with Kim Hongjoong forever someday. 

Though it’s too bad, someday already passed. 

“Do you remember when Seonghwa got so drunk he ended up confessing to Jieun in front of all the girl’s sleeping cabins?” Hongjoong snickers, relishing in the embarrassing memory his friend always hates him for bringing up. You laugh out loud, remembering the memory. “Oh my god, yes!” You turned to face him, shaking your head. “In nothing but his underwear, right?” 

Hongjoong nodded, smiling with one hand on the steering wheel as he drove.

“Didn’t he end up jumping into the lake afterwards? With you having to go in and save him as well?” You share your laughter with one another, catching up on past memories as your twin daughters listened attentively in the back, reliving them with you together.

That's what makes the hour and half drive from the city into the wilderness feel so short, finally pulling into the graveled parking lot of the vast cottage resort. White suburban cottages lined along one another, a good amount of distance in between each for every family staying. 

As Hongjoong parked the car, the view outside was so glorious you had to hold your breath. Glistening clear blue waves in the lake reflect the bright sunshine from above. A light breeze is present today with the way the willow and oak trees swayed gently. 

“It’s beautiful” you gasped from as far as you got out of the car, stretching your upper body with eyes closed as you inhaled the fresh air. 

Hongjoong stills his movements, shutting the door before replying with his gaze caught at your backside.

“Yeah, it is” he smiles.

Both of you turn around at a loud voice coming from behind. “We’re gonna explore the campsites and souvenir shops first!” Eunbyeol shouts as she runs away with her sister's hand in hers, towards the wooden cabin that's settled further away. 

“What about lunch?” you call to them. 

“We’re not hungry!”

Hongjoong tells them to be safe, and to stick around nearby. You smirked, helping him unload the trunk as you told him. “They’ll be fine. They’re probably too excited to even think right now” you giggled, bumping shoulders with him. 

You feel the tension that was once so strong between you two fade slowly, walking up the wooden steps of your lodge and exchanging conversation with each other.

“Hey, I just want my babies to be safe” he admits, a grin on his face as he holds the cooler in his hands. You chuckle, shaking your head at his protectiveness. 

“Here it is!” he exclaims, setting the suitcases in the front foyer as he opens the door. “Lodge number 1117”

The two story cottage is larger than it appears from the outside, having a modern yet rustic interior that you and Hongjoong admired. It had everything you would need, from a well designed kitchen area to a cozy living room space.

“It’s perfect, the kids will love it” you beam, looking at the hanging hammock chair in the corner of the living room and the gray stone fireplace. It fit perfectly for your family. 

Hongjoong smiles, sunglasses perched on top of his head as he sets the luggage down near the kitchen. Walking up beside him, you help him unload the cooler and ice boxes first, settling into your new home for the next few days. 

“I’m guessing you still drink?” you ask, looking in his direction as you unloaded the case of beer you saw him bring from the trunk.

He gestured to the booze. “C’mon, it wouldn’t be a vacation without it, would it?” 

You wholeheartedly agreed, placing a few in the fridge before you shut it closed. 

“Hopefully, this time we won’t end up shit faced like we did back in college” you laugh, turning to face him. 

“I can already picture that time we got so drunk from that bottle of tequila my friend brought, we snuck out of the campsite and went to the forest and got lost.” you spoke, the memory a little foggy but nonetheless fresh in your mind. 

Hongjoong smiles, listening as you speak.  

“There wasn’t anything but trees and bushes in that forest!” You exclaimed, shaking your head. “What did we even do there?” 

Hongjoong replies nonchalantly, folding the cardboard box in his hands.

“I’m pretty sure we fucked.”

You momentarily freeze at his words, before letting out a soft awkward laugh, causing him to look up. 

“No we didn’t, Hongjoong” you immediately deny, not believing his words. But your brows began furrowing at the foggy memory, starting to realize you really couldn’t trust your alcohol tolerance, now as an adult and even back when you were a college student. Did you guys have sex? In a forest out of all places?

Hongjoong leans against the kitchen counter, across from you as he crosses his arms in front of his chest and smirks smugly. 

“Nope, I distinctly remember it” he recalls, taking a step closer so he was now in your space. 

“I held your hand in mind as we walked up that trail by the cliff. And gosh, were we horny that night, because I remember you complaining about all that dirt you got on your knees from giving me the greatest head i've ever experienced in my entire life-” 

Slapping your hands over his mouth to stop him from going on, you blushed as you glared at him. 

“Jesus christ,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes before confessing.

“I get it, we fucked.”

Suddenly, you and Hongjoong break out into giggles like varsity sweethearts again at the story. Though embarrassed and cringing internally from the way you acted as young adults, it was nice to share them together now. At the proximity in which you’re standing in, you can't help but stare at each other softly. A hand wraps around your waist, making your breath hitch as he pulls you closer. 

“What are you doing?” you grin, watching him.

He looms over you, able to tell that something sits right at the tip of his tongue that he hesitantly decides to say. “I’m pretty sure,” he mutters, staring at your face and cautiously grazing the skin under your blouse. You feel your breathing speed up. 

“I also held you like this in my arms as you were leaning against that tree” his grip gentle and immediately transporting you back to the scenery that night. His sharp tone contrasts his touch. 

“Yknow, the one we fucked against?” he teases to you one more time.

The scent of burning campfire. A cold, midnight breeze. The feeling of the rough cedar tree against your back as Hongjoong thrusted inside you with every delirious snap of his hips, holding you close while he fucked you to oblivion with only the forest animals standing witness to your sinful actions. The film replays like a cheesy R-rated romance movie in your mind. 

“Did you, now?” You gulp, looking up at him as you adjust to the foreign feeling of his touch on your hips. 

“Yeah. I remember it all” he states, smirking down at you with an intense gaze.

The memory dies down when you catch yourself staring at his lips, arms finding their way around his neck as he dives down to whisper softly to you.

“Do you remember too?” He asks.

How he held you in his arms. How he whispered in your ear while you came around his cock, drool and traces of cum littering the corners of your mouth while Hongjoong didn’t care if you were stretching his flannel from how hard you were tugging at the material.

You nod. “I do,” you muttered, lashes fluttering as you felt as though your heart wouldn’t stop beating. “I remember you kissed me on the lips,” you confessed. 

Perhaps you wanted him to do it again right now. 

He looks in your eyes, searching for your approval that you desperately give, breath hitting each other's faces as he slowly leaned down to try and connect your lips. His chest is pressed against yours, and you begin to realize you haven’t shared the same breath like that in so long. You were so close to kissing right then and there.

If only you leaned in closer…

“We’re back!”

You push Hongjoong across the kitchen, shoving his hip painfully into the marble counter and ignoring his high-pitched groan of agony as you immediately look away to avoid suspicion, continuing to grab the beer from the icebox in front of you.

“Girls!” you exclaimed, voice wavering. 

Of course, Eunbyeol and Eunseo walk in with matching postcards and goodies from the souvenir shop in their hands, their sunglasses perched on their heads as their eyes lit up with excitement. They were still oblivious to the fact that they almost caught their parents about to make out in the kitchen.

“Dad, this place is amazing!” Eunbyeol deadpans, telling her father. “They even have jet skiing on the other side of the lake! We gotta go now!”

Hongjoong clutches his hip, pursing his lips as he hides his expression of pain and surprise. 

“Really? That's great sweetie”

Eunseo however, is quick to catch on.

“What were you guys doing?” she looks at you suspiciously. Her words hang in the air for a moment. 

“Were you guys about to kis-”

Hongjoong and you frantically scurry to find a plausible excuse, shuffling awkwardly. 

“I was helping your dad unload the cooler” 

“I was helping your mom get something out of her eye”

Both girls stare at you meekly. Eunbyeol scrunches her nose. “Huh?”

Plastering on a fake smile, you briskly leaped over the luggage nearby, ushering them upstairs before they had the chance to ask anymore questions.

“I think it’s time to unpack your things.” you watched their eyebrows quirk at the way you pushed them out the kitchen.

“We can do it on our own, mom! It’s really no big d-”

You clamp Eunbyeol’s mouth shut with your hand, blushing profusely as you walk away with them. 

Hongjoong stands there alone in the kitchen, rubbing his hip and wondering what the hell just almost happened.

The next few days, you and Hongjoong don’t discuss the incident between you two. Rather, the beginning of the trip after that event has become a painful performance trying your best to be eerily polite yet distant to each other in front of your children, as if that would make you forget the fact that you two almost kissed in the kitchen.

“Could you pass the sunscreen, honey?” Hongjoong would say awkwardly, turning his back to flash you a cheery smile on the lake deck as Eunbyeol and Eunseo watched you interact while floating in the cool, summer waters. 

You passed the bottle to your ex-husband while maintaining awkward distance. “Of course, darling!” 

“Thanks honey!”

“No problem sweetheart!”

This resulted in Eunbyeol and Eunseo looking at their parents in horror, the youngest twin muttering under her breath as they discussed an urgent change of plans.

“We have to get them to stop being weird.”

Apart from that, the ‘family bonding time’ promise to your daughters was maintained, and each day was an adventure for all of you in terms of what you would do together next. An accumulation of forest trekking, water-skiing and outdoors barbeques on the patio of your cottage made everyday feel more and more special for your girls, seeing how they relished in having both their parents with them at the same place and time. It became moments of peace and resolution that eventually became special for you and Hongjoong too. 

“I hope we stay here forever,” Eunseo blurted out one evening after a blissful day near the lakeshore, watching as the sun began to go down. She was busy licking the sticky sides of her melting ice cream cone in one hand, the other one held in yours. 

Hongjoong and Eunbyeol were a few feet ahead, laughing loudly and holding hands as they compared their fruit popsicles with one another to see whose was bigger. 

“You and Byeol would eventually get sick of going to the lake all the time” You smiled, the corners of your mouth turning up before her next words made the strings of your heart tug. 

“Sure, but at least you and dad could be together with us too.”

You watched as she ran up to her sister and dad, joining in on their fun as she began boasting that her ice cream was better than theirs. Hongjoong’s smile is the biggest you’ve ever seen it to be, looking down at his girls with a golden tan from the past few days spent outside, and hair slightly damp from swimming. 

Any person could tell the love in his eyes was as pure a father’s love for his girls could be. 

Her words stuck with you until that very night, where after dinner, board games, and much pacing back and forth in your own room before getting into bed, you decided to cautiously approach Hongjoong’s room on the opposite side of the second floor.

Bare feet padded across the wooden floors as you peeked through the sliver of the open door.

He's wearing an oversized sleep tee and blue pajama pants, getting in some nighttime reading before bed. His glasses are perched on his nose, intently reading his paperback novel. He looks as domestic as a husband gets. 

At the sound of your steps though, he sits up from his relaxed state on his bed, one arm that was supporting his head coming out as the other hand settles the book down on his abdomen. He looks surprised to see you. 

“Hi” he states, looking at you. 

“Hey”

Hongjoong’s expression immediately softened at your figure, watching as you shuffled awkwardly in front of him. The room is quiet. 

“Can I come in?”

“Of course,” He nods, setting his bookmark in the spine of the cover and turning his attention to you, offering you to take a seat on his linen covers. You see his polaroid camera with photos taken of Eunbyeol and Eunseo perched on a desk nearby. 

You don’t see the ones he secretly took of you, as those are in his drawers. 

“Don’t tell me you can’t sleep by yourself” he gently teases before watching as your smile doesn't reach the ends of your eyes. You wrap your silk robe closer to your body, feeling sort of vulnerable. 

“How do you like the resort so far?” He asks, watching as you played with your fingers absentmindedly. “Is the room okay?”

“It’s wonderful Hongjoong, better than I could ever have hoped for.” You spoke up, telling the truth.

It’s hard to arrange your thoughts in your head when it’s just the two of you in his room. The kids were already fast asleep. Now was your chance to just tell him how you felt. Why were you hesitating so much?

“Hey, look at me.” Hongjoong’s soft voice calls out to you, a protective hand coming out to caress the back of your head in habit. He can tell you want to say something, and the gesture makes you emotional, remembering how he always used to do that to ease your nerves when you were younger. 

“What’s wrong? Am I making things uncomfortable on the trip?” he worries about the boundaries you established with him at the beginning, watching as your lip begins to quiver and the emotions suddenly overcome you. 

“I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” you sniffled, tears forming near the brim of your eyes as you looked up at the father of your children. 

Hongjoong’s eyes widened, shifting through the covers over to you. “Woah, hey, shh that’s alright I got you” he coos, immediately going into dad mode and embracing you in his arms, letting your head rest against his chest. 

The action is natural, no longer foreign or weird, and you silently thank him for leaving reassuring circles on your back. Husband or not, Hongjoong would always be your best friend first. You had forgotten how much you missed this comforting side to him.  

“Tell me what you’re sorry about” he states, chest tightening at your wet cheeks before he slowly raises your chin to look him in the eyes. 

“For being mean to you for so long” you sniffle, a weakened state of emotional guilt eating away at you. You let him watch you carefully.

“I’ve been thinking about how happy the girls have been during this trip. A-And it kills me that we’ve been fighting for the past seven years, and that they’ve grown up seeing such bad parts of ourselves, of my own self” you ramble, confessing how you felt. 

You look up. “They’re happy because we’re together Joong. Because we’re not fighting or avoiding each other like we used to do before.”

He watches as you look up at him with tears forming in your eyes. 

“You’re such a good dad. And I realized you deserve to hear that.”

At the sounds of more sniffles, Hongjoong finally speaks, smiling as he brushes stray hair from your face. 

“I wouldn’t want anyone else but you to be the mother of our children, I hope you know that”

His truthfulness throws you off guard.

“I’m sorry too” he sighs, letting you sit up straight and look him in the eyes properly. “I haven’t been the best partner either, baby. We were both mean to each other.” he says, brushing a tear away from your face.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve thrown a hair dryer at me once before as well” he attempts to make you laugh, affection blooming in his chest when he sees he succeeds, wiping your tears. 

“But I already knew how you felt, sweetheart. I always know” he smiles, eyes mirroring a weak ache in his heart.  

“Married or not, we were once friends. And now we’re family” His voice turns deep, strong and dependable like the father he’s become.

“We can start over” you tell him, smiling as he folds his hands over your palm. “We can always do better from now and going forward. For ourselves, and for Eunseo and Eunbyeol.” 

Hongjoong nods, hesitantly for a split second before he leans over to press a soft kiss to your cheek, showing a gesture of affection that you longed for so long.

You shut your eyes, the kiss making your heart flutter. 

“Friends again?” He whispers, though silently wanting something more. 

You sighed, pulling him in closer to embrace in a hug. “Friends” you nodded while inhaling his comforting scent. 

The next morning, and for the rest of the remaining trip onwards, you and Hongjoong’s relationship dynamics did the equivalent of a 180 degree turn. 

It’s hard to believe you two really just wanted to be ‘friends’

Eunbyeol and Eunseo could tell by the way you talked to each other more, noticing you share more secret glances and fleeting touches that were innocent to the eye, but concealing a longing that you both tried to hide. You knew you couldn’t get carried away. You and Hongjoong were simply resolving a rough patch in your parenting. Not getting back together in a relationship. 

But after spending more time together while Eunbyeol and Eunseo became occupied on their own, it was hard keeping the interactions to a justified amount. Long walks in the forest, evenings spent cooking together, even cuddling together on the couch during family movie night. Thinking your kids were too busy watching the vintage Disney movie play on screen, when in fact, the real love story they were more invested in was happening right in front of their eyes, watching their parents falling in love again.

This led to the last event in their plan that they hoped would finally seal the deal. 

On Saturday night, the last night of your trip before you had to go back to the city, you and Hongjoong are surprised to find mini invitations left on your beds, scribbled in glitter pen and cursive handwriting reading out the following:

Gourmet Dinner Date for 2

Time: 7:30 pm

Location: Outdoor patio 

Dress code: Formal and Classy

You and your husband chuckled at the cards left on your beds, suddenly finding a twin each by your side and ushering you to get ready. 

“Do you and your sister even know how to cook dinner, Eunbyeol?” You questioned as your daughter rushed to push you into your walk-in closet, forcing you to get ready. 

She huffs, placing her hands on her hips looking offended. 

“At least my cooking skills don’t take after Dad’s, mom.” She mumbled, choosing your shoes for you. “Have some trust in a girl!”

Meanwhile, Hongjoong gets pampered by Eunseo in the other room, though in reality, her blunt critiques on her dads fashion are bruising his pride at the moment. 

“Dad, you have many normal clothes to wear. You have to chill with the ripped baggy jeans.” she demands, trudging through his closet to find something formal for him to wear. 

He begins to protest but his daughter shakes her head. “You’re supposed to look good for mom!” she huffs, searching on her own. At Eunseo’s words, the man starts to slightly worry, scratching the back of his head. 

“You and Byeol are gonna join too, right?”

She stops for a second, looking back to her father as she avoids the question and instead retorts back. 

“It’s just a date, Dad. Relax”

Back to what was happening in the other room at the end of the hallway, you huffed in frustration when you walked back into your closet after Byeol rejected another one of your outfits for the dinner date. 

“I have nothing else to wear, sweetie, these are all the clothes I have.” you came to terms with a hand coming to your forehead after having searched in despair. 

The ten year old shakes her head before pushing you out of the way and digging deep into your suitcase. She reveals a delicate piece of material you didn’t even realize you packed. 

“We got some help from Aunt Sophie and Uncle Hwa to pack you guys clothes that you could wear for a special occasion.” she wiggles her eyebrows, a smug grin on her face as you gap in shock. 

You inspect the dress, lips parting in disbelief as you feel the material. 

“I haven’t worn this since I was in college.” You uttered softly to yourself. 

At one longing look of the short dress, you shake your head, walking back into the closet to find something else. “I-I can’t wear this Byeol, what would your dad think?“ you asked nervously.

“Dad said he thinks your boobs looked hot in this dress so Aunt Sophie and I picked it specially” she looks up at you, proud of what she just said.  

You whip your head around, mouth hanging open in shock.

“Byeol! Where did you hear that from?” 

She sighs. “Dad had one too many drinks this one time and started talking about you guys back in college” she explained before shoving the infamous black dress in your hands. 

“Talked a lot about how pretty you were,” she draws out her words in a teasing voice. You curse your husband for his mistake.

You bite your lip as you stare down at the fabric in your hands. 

It was undeniable. You knew you looked amazing in this dress. You could testify from the amount of times Hongjoong ripped it off of you after countless night out’s filled with sexual tension and playful flirting. For god's sake, Eunbyeol and Eunseo could’ve almost had another sibling thanks to that dress.

“Fine.” you muttered bashfully, turning away as you walked into the closet to change. 

“But I’m just gonna try it on.”

Thirty minutes, one mental breakdown and too many outfit changes to count later, you walk down the stairs wearing the dress Eunbyeol had successfully persuaded you to wear. 

What do you know, the kid was right. Your boobs looked amazing in that dress. 

Not just your boobs, your whole body looked incredible with its strong curves and the beautiful fill it gave to the dress, making it slightly tighter than when you wore it as a twenty year old, but still all the more mature and sophisticated. You really did look hot.

Eunbyeol rushes down the stairs before you, catching up with her sister to inspect her job on their fathers preparation. 

“Well?” She says expectedly, looking at her dad. “Let’s take a look!”

He sports a simple yet timeless white collar dress shirt, the first few buttons undone as he wears a form fitting black dress-vest that accentuates his waist, dress pants paired to go along with it. Though simple, his silver rings pulled the outfit together, making him just as good looking and sophisticated as you were. 

Hongjoong’s back faces towards your front, watching as the man nervously shuffles his hands in his pockets.

“How do I look guys?” He gulps, adjusting his collar and sweeping his blond hair back. 

Eunseo rolls her eyes, a grin on her proud little face. “Do you even have to ask, dad?” She’s more than confident in the outfit she and Seonghwa coordinated together. 

He chuckles, shaking his head as he nervously tells them. 

“I want to look good for your mom, you know what I mean? She's a difficult woman to impress sometimes.”

“I’m difficult?” You tease, walking down the last few steps of the stairs. 

The man turns his head around, losing his breath at the sight of you standing there in front of him, wearing that dress that he hadn’t seen you wear for so long, looking breathtaking in every possible way. 

“Hi” you grinned softly, feeling sort of shy.

The way you fit in that dress made an insatiable hunger fuel inside Hongjoongs chest, eyes gazing at the way you strutted over in the black, lace covered material with your hair tied back and glossed lips turned upwards as your dimples showed. He breaks from his admiration when you quirk a brow at him, making the man almost fall to his knees and stutter uncontrollably. 

“I-I No I didn’t mean that-“

You giggle as you bravely take Hongjoongs hands in your own, shutting him up as you turn to your daughters standing in front of you, starstruck at your aura. 

“Outside, right?” you winked at them. 

“Right this way!” Eunseo enthusiastically leads you out back to the outdoor patio, a perfect view of the garden and lakeside coming into effect. Hongjoong slips his hand from yours, and slides it across your waist, pulling you into his side. 

“My parents are too cool” Eunbyeol sighs under her breath, watching from behind in awe.

Your ex-husband makes you swoon when he leans in to whisper softly. “You look breathtaking, sweetheart.” feeling an immense sense of pride at how lucky he was to make you the mother of his children. 

You blush, turning to him to whisper playfully back. 

“Not bad yourself.” 

You both look forward when you come to a stop at the patio steps, sheer amazement at the full preparation your daughters did for this event. Fairy lights were hung around the area, a table with two chairs on either side placed with a white table cloth and a bouquet of freshly hand picked flowers from the forest, battery powered candles that were sold at the souvenir shop lit in the middle and glowing softly. 

Eunbyeol dashes to the door when it rings, making you and Hongjoong furrow your brows. 

“Is someone here?” he asks, watching Eunseo fold a napkin over her arm like the pro waiter she was. The other one walks out, an oily fast food paper bag in her hands as she smiles. “Dinner is served!” 

“Turns out that diner 15 minutes away also delivers!” She chuckled, helping her sister plate the two cheeseburgers, fries, and vanilla and strawberry milkshakes. 

You and Hongjoong continue to watch in stunned amazement as the girls prepare the not exactly gourmet(?) but still impressive meal in front of you, their small hands working swiftly. 

“You guys prepared all of this?” You asked, getting a little emotional. They grin proudly, nodding their heads. “We called the place earlier and planned it all by ourselves!”

You pressed a kiss to each of their soft cheeks, thanking them both as Hongjoong did the same. 

“What did I do to get so lucky with my girls?” he smiles, ruffling their heads. 

“What about you guys?” You asked, watching as they slowly backed away to give you two some privacy. 

“Natalie and her mom invited us over for dinner and a sleepover tonight at her cottage,” Eunbyeol smiles. At the mention of their newly made friend that they had gotten close to over the week, Hongjoong looks at you then back at them. 

“What? But- ”

She cuts him off, rolling her eyes. “Her mom said it’s totally fine with her. She’s only two cottages down, and she’ll make sure we’re back in time again for tomorrow when we leave!” 

The two girls smile in excitement, though the both of you have your parental instincts kick in. 

“Please?” they begged, wanting you to let them go so that they could do this for you guys as much as they wanted to do it for themselves. “She’s waiting for us now!”

Hongjoong feels guilty. “C’mon, you guys should still join us!”

Eunseo immediately shakes her head, declining the offer. 

“Tonight is all about you guys. We don’t want to intrude” she chuckles, bumping shoulders with her sister who chips in.

“We’ll text you guys in the middle to let you know everything’s good of course” 

You and Hongjoong smile, a feeling of immense proudness overwhelming you from seeing your daughters act so grown up. There wasn’t anything else you felt grateful for more. 

“Thank you girls.” you muttered softly, watching as they flashed you a wink before hurrying out through the backyard door. 

“Don’t get all kissy in the backyard!” Eunbyeol teases, making cheesy smooching sounds with the back of her hand as her sister rolls her eyes and shoves her out. 

Before you know it, you’re left standing with just the sound of smooth jazz playing on the patio speakers and the buzzing of the summer cicadas. 

“She takes after you, I hope you know that” You told Hongjoong softly.  

He chuckles, “Not as much as you.” He gestures to the table. “Shall we?” 

And that’s how the next few hours seem to pass by without even realizing. 

You see, there was a reason why you fell in love with the man sitting in front of you, and you’re just beginning to remember it now. Being with Hongjoong felt as if the moment was everlasting, and you could testify that from the amount of laughter and deep conversation that was shared over dinner, bringing you to sit on that patio until the sun had set. Every so often you’d smile again at the thought of the twins preparing this all for you. 

“I don’t remember the last time I’ve been on a date like this” You blurted out after laughing about something, taking a sip of your strawberry milkshake through a straw. 

“Oh, so we’re going on dates now, are we?” Hongjoong grins, making you roll your eyes at him. 

You lean forward on the table cloth, watching as a glimmer passes through your husband’s eyes while he sits back in his chair, cocking his head to the side as he clears his voice. 

“But you’ve gone on dates after we split, haven’t you?” he asks, leaning forward in interest now, letting his chin rest on his palm. 

You shook your head slowly.

“Nope. Not since signing those papers” you revealed. 

Hongjoong furrows his brows in surprise. “And why’s that?” 

You suddenly didn’t have an answer. “I-I don’t know, I just…” You began, watching how he looked at you with an unreadable expression. You smiled, looking down and suddenly feeling embarrassed. 

“I guess I was too focused on running the bridal shop, I couldn’t find the time to.” You use as a cliche excuse. 

“Bullshit” he retorts back immediately. 

“It’s true!” You protested, throwing a fry at him that he dodges, landing on his finished plate. 

“You always did say back when we were younger that you wanted to be a designer. And look at you now” he admires, letting the candle lights shine a youthful glow to your face. 

“You always said you wanted to become a music producer and write your own songs.” you reciprocated, smiling as you soaked in the presence of one another. “And here you are now.” 

You think for a moment before asking the same question. 

“How about you?” 

Hongjoong silently shakes his head as his answer, though silently thinking about something else. The music changes to some old Billy Joel song in the back. You don’t realize it, but Hongjoong smiles to himself when he realizes the girls added it to the playlist. Of course they had to, it was one of the songs you played at your wedding. 

“What were we thinking when we got married like that?” You asked out loud, looking at how far you’d both come. You definitely skipped some of the order of the stages of a normal relationship. 

“I mean, we had no money, no prospects. Hell, we didn’t even have a car, Hongjoong!” you realized.

Your husband laughs, sitting straight and letting some skin show through his unbuttoned collar. 

“We were young” he justifies. 

“Yeah, and stupid too,” you pointed out, feeling the summer breeze pass by. It felt good to sit here like this with him.

You wondered, could sitting here like this with Hongjoong be a regular thing? After this trip, would you be able to walk back into each other’s lives again like this? 

As both parents and lovers?

Hongjoong brings up something you wouldn’t have expected him to. 

“Do you remember when we first found out about Eunseo and Eunbyeol?” he questioned softly, looking at you. 

You blink, taken aback. Suddenly you’re back in your college dorm washroom, sobs wracking through your body as Hongjoong who had only just sent his first few mixtapes to recording stations and companies nearby, pulled you close into his chest, eyeing the two lines left on the counter while he caressed your back. Only twenty years old and figuring out what you wanted to do with your lives, you were suddenly stuck in a sudden situation that had made you feel like your dreams would have been given up on completely. 

“I do,” you told him, pulling yourself from the memory. 

“I remember because in that moment I felt like the whole world was caving in”. You laughed, though it wasn’t fully cheerful.

“I don’t regret it, though” Hongjoong replies after some thought, gazing at you with truth in his eyes. 

You shook your head. “Of course. Neither do I.” 

It was a blessing to have two beautiful daughters as the product of your love.

“I don’t regret you either.” Hongjoong states.

You lock gazes, unable to take your eyes off of his face. 

“I loved you when I first met you and I still loved you when we divorced,” he says all at once, making your breath hitch and heart waver. 

“Don’t say that.” you tell him, looking away and suddenly reminding yourself you’re still divorced from the man sitting in front of you. 

How could he still love you after all this time? How could you feel the same about him?

Hongjoong continues, shaking his head as he bites back the lodge in his throat and makes up his mind. He has to tell you. 

“Truthfully, I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you.” 

Don’t do this to me you begged silently.

“I’ve hurt you just as much as you’ve hurt me.” He swallows, thinking back to the times you already knew he was referring to. The times where you fought to the point where there wasn’t even anything worth fighting for anymore. 

“But you have given me the greatest gifts of my life.” He smiles, holding his tears back.

“And for that I will always love you.”

You push your seat from the table, suddenly feeling overwhelmed and wanting to avoid him.

“I can’t do this anymore.” you dejected, walking away from the patio and from Hongjoong.

There wasn’t anything else you could fake anymore. You couldn’t bear to hear the man you once loved, possibly even still love, say these things like he had a dagger lodged in his heart. Didn’t he know he was only going to do the same to you?

Hongjoong is quick to catch up, holding onto your wrist and turning you around, that your back collides with the nearest wall inside, pressing your fronts together and closing the distance.

“Why do you always run away from me? From the possibility of us?” He exclaimed, voice breaking. His heart crushed at the way you turned your head, hot tears already clouding your vision. 

“Because ‘us’ can’t happen again, Hongjoong!” You cried, staring up at the man you once promised your life to.

“Don’t you get it? Us going on this trip isn’t a sign to get back together. What would we do seven years after breaking up?”

“We could do it” He states firmly, staring you down, both your chests heaving.

You bite your tears back again. “No we couldn’t, honey. We would be pretending to think we solved our marriage. What would we do about our daughters? After putting them through our constant fighting— ”

He slams his lips to your own, shutting you up as you painfully resist his touch. Your hands came up to push him away, but at the sudden gesture, you’re already giving in and sobbing softly, letting him hold you for just one last time. 

Your lips mold so perfectly, it almost hurts how much you missed this feeling. To have him slot his arms around your waist, pull you in close, and cherish you. You almost forgot this feeling. 

He pulls away softly, watching your lashes flutter, pleading to you for a chance as he leans closer, making your breath hitch. 

“We could be together as a family again,” he states firmly, your name leaving his lips in a desperate plea. “We never know if we try—”

You drown out his words, looking up with tears falling as you cut him off. 

“Seven years ago I gave you those papers to sign, thinking that you would’ve chased after me,” 

Hongjoong holds his breath, watching as the next words stumble from your mouth. 

“I realize now, how stupid I was to think that.”

“I didn’t know you wanted me to chase you”

Shoving his chest away while mustering the last of your strength you uttered. “Of course I wanted you to chase me.” You let go of his hands. “It’s too late either way”, walking away from the defeated man.

Hongjoong stands alone near the patio entrance, watching his tears fall to the wooden floorboards. Holding the ring he had kept hidden in his trouser pocket, he plays with it in his fingers, silently wishing he had given it to you sooner. 

It rains the next morning on your departure back to the city. Perfect, considering it reflects the sudden storm of utter depression that falls upon your family. Long gone are the cheerful giggles and longing stares that were shared between you and Hongjoong during the ride to the cottage. 

There was no room for that, not after last night.

Eunbyeol and Eunseo sat slumped in the backseat, rain hitting the roof of the car as they mindlessly played on their cell phones. Really, they were peeking from behind every so often and watching their parents sit in the front seat with tension so thick, you could’ve cut it with a knife. 

What had they done wrong? They planned the trip, the activities, the dinner— it was all perfect. And yet why were you still fighting with each other? 

These questions racked in their brains, baffled to have witnessed the sight of their parents refusing to talk to each other after walking back from their friends' sleepover. 

Eunbyeol and Eunseo felt as useful as matchmakers without a couple, feeling their efforts all gone down the drain. 

At the sudden ring of your cell phone, you pick up, answering at the voice of your assistant. 

“I’m driving back up right now”

Hongjoong continues focusing on the road, the occasional wiping of rain from the windshield wipers on the front window. 

“Yes. That’s okay, I'll take care of it.” You muttered, glancing at the rear view mirror for a moment. Your twin daughters immediately sigh, having an idea of what to expect when you say those familiar words. 

“Thanks for letting me know.” 

You hang up the phone, 

“One of us isn’t going with you, are we?” Eunseo asks, making you look back at her with a sigh. 

“No, you’re not” You confess, apologetic. ‘I’m sorry honey. I really am.”

You look back facing the front, swallowing as you told Hongjoong. 

“You��ll have to drop me off at the studio. Some things aren’t working out with the client so they need me to come in and take care of it.”

He nods, unphased as he continues to look straight. 

“Will you be fine with the girls?” You asked carefully, watching them as they were slumped in the backseat.

Hongjoong grips the wheel before turning to you. 

“I‘ll be fine. Don’t worry about it” sending a small smile, though it doesn’t fully reach his eyes. 

The twins thank god that at least neither of them had to choose to go back home with either parent. 

They would’ve hated that more. 

After barely being able to depart and say goodbye to your daughters in front of your studio, holding them close for a warm embrace and thanking them for an unforgettable weekend, Hongjoong drives off with his daughters, an empty feeling cascading his thoughts. He puts on a smile still, trying to cheer up his girls. 

“What do you want to do first when we go home? Want to unpack and then eat? We can eat and then unpack. Or we could- ”

Eunseo crosses her arms, having been fed up for far too long.

“Dad, you must be out of your mind.” 

Hongjoong stills, furrowing his brows and peeking at the first born who crosses her arms, holding an attitude. 

“Eunseo, what are you- ” 

“You’re telling me you and Mom just spent a whole entire week together at the cottage, had the best time of your lives since separating with one another, and now you’re just going to go back to not speaking or talking to each other again?”

Hongjoong blinks at his daughter’s sudden outburst, already making a turn into the driveway of his house.  

Eunbyeol now reciprocates her twin, looking at her dad as she slouches beside him, coming near the front seat area. 

“She’s got a point dad. Do you really just not love mom anymore?” She worries, looking up at him genuinely concerned. 

Hongjoong doesn’t know how to answer these sudden questions right now, stuttering to reply.

“Me and your mother are fine!” He lies, trying to reassure them. “That trip wasn’t just for us, it was also for you two to enjoy— ”

Eunseo asks the million dollar question. 

“If you still love Mom, why are you letting her go a second time?” 

With the engine turned off, it's gone silent. Two pairs of eyes staring at their father, awaiting his response. 

“Well? Are you going to chase after her or not?!” Eunbyeol groans, her fathers lack of response making her pull her hair. 

They were right. How could he have made the same stupid mistake twice?

Hongjoong struggles to put the keys back in the engine, telling them to put their seat belts back on. Their eyes begin to glow with hope.

“Do you girls mind staying at your uncle’s for a bit?” He asks hurriedly, punching into his cell phone to call his brother for a favor as he pulls out of the driveway. Eunbyeol squeals, hands clamping over her mouth as her sister speaks on behalf of them both. 

“Dad, if you don’t drop us off and get your butt over to mom’s right away, I’m gonna report you to child services.” she threatens, watching as he steps on the accelerator, heart pumping so fast as he smiles through the rear view mirror.

You sighed, holding up your cellphone to your ear. 

“Call me once she approves the design then,” you told your assistant through the receiver, one hand looking over the sheets of paper, highlighting the changes to the new blueprint. 

“Alright then, bye.” 

After hanging up the phone, you rubbed your temples, head pounding as you tucked the files back into the folder. 

The clock in your studio showed the hands about to reach seven pm. A few hours had already passed since coming back from your trip to the cottage, trying to forget everything by burying your focus into the new dress prints a client of yours requested, remodeling them after the original was rejected. 

Fingers worked away swiftly, comparing textiles and fabrics as you looked at the piles of papers and messy sticky notes in front of you. But yet the gears in your mind seemed to churn achingly slow, sighing as you repeatedly told yourself the same thing. 

Just focus on the dress, focus on the dress, focus on the dress.

Don’t think about him. 

The task is impossible. Your mind can’t help but slip back to what your relationship has become with Hongjoong, and what you were going to do now that those seven days were over. For so long you had deprived yourself from indulging in your love life, prioritizing taking care of Eunseo and Eunbyeol while juggling your job as a designer. Had you been doing it all wrong? 

Hongjoong’s words repeat in your head like a broken record player. 

I will always love you

Lies. That promise couldn’t be kept. Your divorce was a clear outcome of it. You and Hongjoong were two people not meant for one another. You were too different, all you would do is hurt one another, make life an unbearable living hell—

And yet you missed him. You missed Hongjoong so much. 

What was fucking keeping you from loving him? Was it your stubbornness? Was it really the fact that he didn’t chase after you? Or was it none of that and just your own self being stupid?

The front door of the studio opens, pulling you from your thoughts as you got back to the sketches. You called up from your desk as you worked quietly. 

“The studios closed for the- ”

Heavy breathing. The man who just walked in catches his breath from dashing out of his car and up the three flights of stairs, driving through almost an hour of traffic in pouring rain to be here in this moment with you.

“Hongjoong?”

He’s drenched, making a mess on the floor of the studio as the droplets fall softly one by one. 

Suddenly he's striding over to where you’re sitting in long steps before slamming his lips against yours. The kiss throws you off guard, the shock of his cold hands cradling your face makes you close the gap unknowingly. 

Linking your arms around his neck while kissing back passionately, you let your hands rest on his shoulders, pulling back for air as you panted heavily, catching your breaths and looking at each other with pure love and lust. 

“Why are you here?” you asked, feeling dumb because your heart already knew the answer. His hands wrap around your waist, desperate as if you would leave him again. 

But he’s just so fucking tired of that now. He just wants to love you now.

“I lost you once.” He breathes, eyes watering.

“I’m not going to lose you again”. 

Suddenly, everything that kept you from being with each other is thrown away. 

That hate, that fear, everything is gone because you realize you still needed each other. You’re still the same twenty year old couple standing in that dorm washroom, holding each other close and knowing it’ll be okay because at least you had each other. 

You grasp onto his damp shirt, pulling him down with such force that your lips meet again, taking charge as you finally allowed him to have you. 

“You’re a fucking idiot” you whined between kisses, curses escaping your lips when he softly bites the flesh of your neck to test the waters. “I hope you know that”

He agrees wholeheartedly, nodding as if he was already getting pussydrunk.

“I’m an idiot” he mumbles to himself, letting it escape his lips like a mantra. Well, he was stupid enough to only chase after you this late, so if his wife told him he was an idiot, then so he was.

“Let me prove how much I love you,” a hand comes to graze near the collar of your shirt. 

You gasped, watching as Hongjoong lifted you from your seat and rutted his hips against your core pathetically, your ass digging into the edge of the table.

“Here?” Your eyes widened, watching his expression turn dark. He presses kisses on your collarbone, making your hands grasp the wood for support. “Hongjoong wait,” you exhaled in a deep breath, heart beating against your chest.

But he doesn’t give a shit. He’s tired of waiting. 

“It’s been too fucking long” he protests, ripping your top off. You’re dizzy from how abruptly he’s stripping you, latching onto his shoulders for support as you wobble from him unzipping your jeans and pushing them down, exposing you in nothing but your underwear and bra. 

And like the good little whore you are, you immediately spread your legs, letting Hongjoong get a view of the embarrassingly wet patch leaking through your panties as he’s crouched down to let you step out of the denim near your ankles.

Holy fucking shit

You stand bashfully, toes curling from how exposed and vulnerable you were being the only one naked. 

“Please?” you asked nicely, letting your foot rest on his shoulder as your pussy was now on full display for him.

You don’t have time to even finish the last word before Hongjoong dives in, lapping at your soaking cunt and humming in pure ecstasy at the taste. The muffled vibrations make you throw your head back, tugging on his locks to shove his face further. 

Hongjoong’s hands press into your thighs that cage his head in, leaving a grip that you guarantee with littering the flesh with red splotchy bruises. Did you mind? Not at all.

When his tongue pokes at the gummy flesh of your walls, you let out a full moan, echoing throughout the studio as the air begins to smell like sex. 

“Right there, yes” you urged him, leg beginning to shake from how weak it was getting. 

He's so invested, you fear he might suffocate any longer if he doesn’t pull back for air. So you grasp his head, pushing him away from his meal while you both gasped lightly.

You watch him wipe his slick covered chin with the back of his hand, not breaking eye contact as he stares. 

“You were just begging to be fucked for all these years, weren’t you sweetheart?” He teases. 

Though you wanted him to lap at your juices until you came, you knew you needed to still feel his cock inside after so long. 

Your fingers played with the hem of your underwear, smiling back at your husband. 

“And you were just begging to get a taste of this pussy, weren’t you, Joong?” wiping that smug grin off his face.

”Lay down for me” he demands, getting up so that one hand finds its way to the back of your bra to unclasp it. The other clears half your desk covered in wedding dress blueprints and sketches, making sure nothing would make you uncomfortable before he fucked you on that mahogany surface so all you’d remember would be his name. 

And people said romance was dead. 

When the bra slides off and your bare back hits your desk, you suddenly realize what Hongjoong’s intention was when he ordered you to do that. 

Soft mounds spill out as your breasts take their natural form, giving Hongjoong the perfect view of your tits. Pervert. 

He immediately latches his tongue on a nipple, taking his hand and playing with the other, twisting painfully. 

A cry escapes your lips, parting them open as you let him play with them as much as he wanted to. He smiles against the motherfuckers, knowing that shut you up perfectly. 

“Are you ready for me to fuck you now?”

“Please, Joong, I need you” you whined, submitting yourself to your husband. He already knows you’re in need of one last kiss, coming up to give his wife what she wants by slotting his lips against yours again, this time much harsher. 

“Tell me so that I treat you good, baby” he mumbles, pulling back and making you clench your thighs together. He undoes his shirt in the meantime, unbuckling his belt and pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek when you sobbed. 

“Fuck me, please” 

His fingers slide your panties to the side to press his aching tip to your wet core. 

“Like this?” He teases.

“Inside, Hongjoong” you emphasized, meaning what you said with the way your nails dug into a pile of papers nearby. Biting your lip from how sensitive and needy your cunt was. 

“I know, I know,” he murmured, smiling to himself after messing with you. 

“I just missed this pretty cunt” before in one strong thrust, Hongjoong’s bulging tip enters inside your walls, giving you a stretch you forgot how much you loved. You whined softly. 

“Shit” he curses, relishing how the buildup finally led to this moment. 

The man is ravenous, but he’s genuinely trying his best to ease the painful stretch as you adjust to his thickness, nipping your neck in a trail of hickeys and love bites posessively.

With every thrust he makes, you arch your back, pencils and papers shuffling near by you. 

“Fucking look at my wife” he admires proudly, watching the woman he loves bounce her tits at every thrust of his cock. 

“S’too much” you caved in, shaking your head at the stimulation. 

You claw at his arms, head turning to the side as your eyes roll back from pleasure. 

“I know, mama, I know” 

He grabs a tit in his left hand, the right one coming down to play with your clit, pressing slow circles near where you were connected. 

“Fuck, I missed these” He rasps, savouring the feeling of your soft flesh in his hand, making you throw your head back. 

“Missed how they looked when you were pregnant” he says, thinking of how ethereal you looked when you were knocked up with his kids. 

“God, at this point I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant again” Hongjoong grunts, snapping his hips deliriously back and forth. He envisions you round and full, fulfilling his inner fantasy. 

“Shut up.” You spat, breaking the mood as you bit your lip to suppress a moan. He almost laughs when you then crane your hips back to give him easier access to keep penetrating you. The desk shuffles. 

“Your mouth is saying one thing, honey, but your body is saying something else” 

After hearing his words, you suck him in further, both of you now getting close. 

“M’close. M’so close!” you whimpered, sitting up so that now Hongjoong could hold you in his arms, caging your body so his cock could stuff you better. 

Your mouth hangs open in silent bliss, hands scratching his back. You leaned into his ear, making the final chord inside him snap. 

“Make me cum, daddy” 

And just like that, you’re clenching around Hongjoong’s massive cock as a creamy white ring begins to form. Hot ropes fill you up inside, tangled in a sweaty mess as he purrs, caressing the back of your head again in habit. 

“So fucking good, sweetheart. You did so good for me”

The sounds of your breathing fill the studio, a pencil or two rolling quietly away on the ground from being shoved off the desk. He shakes his head when you try to pull your sweaty bodies away, hair sticking to your neck but feeling the way he refuses. 

“Just let me love you,” he mumbles into your shoulder, dick softening inside you. “Just for a moment.”

You’re too tired to say anything back, so you finally give in. 

Seven years passed by you two without even realizing how much you still loved each other. Though you wouldn’t be able to get that time back, for once, there was something that you and Hongjoong agreed upon. 

You had no intention of wasting that time any more. 

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄:

Months later, and it still takes everything in Eunbyeol and Eunseo hearts to not scream at the sight of their parents when they walk hand in hand, smiling happily in public as they pick their daughters up from the first day of school. 

The girls jump into their parent’s embrace, eying the two silver rings they now wore proudly together. 

“How was school, darlings?” Hongjoong asks, pressing a kiss to Eunseo and Eunbyeol. 

“It was fun! We watched a documentary about lovebirds” she smiled, looking back up. You laughed softly.

“Which reminded me to tell you,” she grins, watching as you, her sister, and father all looked at her. 

“I hope you know that getting you and dad back together was my plan from the start.” she confesses, smirking at Eunbyeol who scoffs, crossing her arms. 

“Nuh uh, this was my idea first!” 

Before her sister could yell at her twin, you jumped in. 

“Plan? What plan?” You asked quizzically, both you and Hongjoong standing there confused.

“To get you guys to fall back in love again, of course!” Eunseo smiles, both her and her sister now giggling softly together.  

“How am I just finding out that there was a plan?” Hongjoong mutters, scratching his neck in confusion. You turned to the two girls, stopping in your tracks on your way to the car

“When did you two even think of all this?” grinning in astonishment as you felt Hongjoong slot his hand and intertwine it with yours. It felt natural now.

“Yeah, I'm curious too” he states, leaning close and becoming intrigued.

Your daughters look at each other before smiling. 

“It’s a long story.”

But at last, time is something you finally now have as a reunited family of four, walking back to your car, holding hands with a twin on each side.

Listening carefully, as your daughters start from the very beginning.

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[valdevia]

The following documents were retrieved from the remains of the ship 'Storaker', its crew and most of its cargo lost in a storm off the coast of Denmark while returning from an archeology expedition to the Viking burial ground of Söndrum:

Excerpt from the diary of main archeologist Ture J. Arne (pictured right on item #2), March 22 1905: “We found something strange today. It wasn't far from the other graves in the area, but it was buried deeper. The extraction was difficult since it had become encased in a hard piece of stone we had to break through. […] This… artifact, it doesn't look like anything we've seen from the old Norse. A piece of loot from one of their raids, perhaps?”

“The crew is quite disturbed by the artifact, and I've heard far-fetched speculation about its origins. As much as I hate to admit it, it makes me feel uneasy too. […] There's one more thing I'm hesitating to write down. When I touched its surface I felt a nearly imperceptible vibration inside. None of the others seemed to notice. […] Tomorrow we'll load it on the ship and take it to Copenhagen.”

Arne's diary, March 25: “The mood on the ship has been odd. Some men have grown obsessed with my artifact. They try to pry it open, free what's inside. The captain sent crewmen to watch over the cargo and stop the fights. I tried to sneak in to see it at night, but they saw me.”

Arne's diary, March 27: “They will not take it away from me. I am the head of this expedition. This finding will put my name on history books. I will not let these thugs see what's inside before me. […] They say a storm is coming. That may be my moment to take it. Free it.”

Undated entry in Arne's diary: “The storm is here. I hear the men fighting outside now. It is time.”

The remains of the ship Storaker were found in April 1905, drifting in the Kattegat area. The ship was heavily damaged and no living crew was found on board. Artifacts matching the images were never located, and are presumed lost at sea.

[Read more Megalomorpha]

[botanicsoul]

The Secretary

agedup! Katsuki Bakugou x (Fem) Reader

MDNI!! (18+)

description: Your entire world flips when you become the explosive hero’s secretary. In the world of high stakes and even higher tension, will you be able to resist his pull, or will you find yourself lost in the heat of it all?” (this bitch is loooooong)

❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❀ ❊ ✿

Pro Hero Dynamight has always been known to overwork at his agency.

Go above and beyond until something is perfect. Every file, every mission plan, every recruit—flawless or you’re wasting his damn time. He doesn’t do breaks. He doesn’t do patience. And he sure as hell doesn’t do mistakes.

People line up to work for him.

Because once you’ve worked under Dynamight, you can work anywhere. You’ve been sharpened by fire. Agencies compete for people who survive even six months at his side.

But just because everyone wants the job doesn’t mean they keep it.

He doesn’t notice most of his staff—doesn’t care to. The only people who get a fraction of his attention are his sidekicks and his PA team. The rest of you? Replaceable. Background.

That’s what you were. Just background.

A newly hired secretary brought in to replace the last one—fired, rumor has it, for leaving a single classified folder out overnight. You were pulled from a random list. No connections, no special qualifications. Just a name picked in a moment of desperation.

And from the beginning, you kept your head down.

Did your job. Stayed quiet. Didn’t try to get in his way. You figured if you didn’t bother him, you’d survive longer than the last girl.

And for a while, it worked.

Until he looked at you.

⸻

It was barely a glance, the first time. You were handing him a folder, and your fingers brushed his. That was it.

But the next day, he asked for you by name. “y/n go to this next meeting for me in 40 minutes and take some notes have it on my desk by 3”

The day after that? He called you into his office to retype a document you knew damn well his PA could’ve handled. He started showing up at your desk more. Asking questions. Staring a little too long when you answered.

No one said anything, but the change was obvious.

Your name started circulating in whispers.

Not in a good way.

Because Dynamight had a reputation. Not just for being a perfectionist or a hard-ass—but for being a flirt. The kind who smiled in interviews and left parties with models on his arm. He was cocky, crude, and didn’t hide the fact that he could get whoever he wanted. He was in the tabloids almost as much as he was on the news. You weren’t his type. Not even close. So whatever attention he was giving you? It had to be temporary.

⸻

Recently one of your male co-workers had been interacting with you a little more than usual lately. He’d stop by your desk for small talk, lingering longer than necessary and dropping subtle hints of flirting—hints you quickly brushed off.

One afternoon, as he stood by your desk chatting about the new coffee shop that had just opened a few blocks from the agency, you heard the unmistakable sound of heavy, aggressive footsteps echoing through the hallway. The air shifted. The floor seemed to still as the explosion hero’s voice cut through the buzz of conversation like a blade.

“Kato,” Dynamight said dryly, voice low but so loud and commanding that it echoed across the entire floor. “Leave my secretary alone and get the hell back to work.”

Everything went quiet.

You could feel the eyes of your coworkers flicking between you and Bakugou, the tension thick in the air. Kato blinked, visibly flinching before muttering something under his breath and practically scrambling away. After that? Silence. No more desk visits. No more awkward compliments. He disappeared.

A few days passed, then a week. You hadn’t realized just how quiet it had been until you were in the break room, talking with Yumi, one of the only people you were actually close with at work. She was leaning against the counter, sipping her tea when you brought it up.

“Hey, Yumi,” you said casually, trying to sound nonchalant as you stirred your drink. “Have you seen Kato around? Last time we talked, he mentioned grabbing coffee at that new place nearby.”

Yumi gave you a look over her cup. “Oh? You don’t know?”

You blinked. “Know what?”

She lowered her voice, leaning in slightly like she was about to share a secret. “After Dynamight yelled at him, Kato got transferred to the other floor—support tech. Apparently he asked for it himself.”

Your eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Word is he went to HR the same day. Said something about ’not wanting to interfere with higher-up dynamics.’” She raised an eyebrow meaningfully. “You ask me? I think he got the message loud and clear—and maybe a little scared. Bakugou doesn’t exactly play subtle.”

You felt your cheeks warm, not sure if it was from embarrassment or something else entirely. You looked away, but Yumi smirked.

“He’s totally territorial over you, you know.”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart was beating just a little faster. “He’s my boss.”

Yumi laughed. “Right. And I’m just here for the free snacks.”

⸻

Things started getting more odd after you grabbed your paycheck, scanning it quickly. Your eyes widen. There’s an extra $200 in there. What the hell?

You head straight to HR, a bit confused. “Hey, I think you guys messed up my pay. There’s, uh, an extra amount in here.”

The HR rep looks at you with a raised eyebrow. “No, we didn’t mess up. You got the raise from the boss yesterday. Didn’t you know?”

You blink. “A raise? From Dynamight?”

They nod. “Yeah. He approved it. It’s all there. So… enjoy the extra cash?”

You stand there for a moment, trying to process it. He didn’t say anything about a raise.

Later, you march into Bakugou’s office. He looks up from his desk, not even bothering to look surprised.

“Aren’t you supposed to be re-organizing those files? I told you I needed that done today y/n” he grumbles, like it’s just another day.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were giving me a raise?” you ask, arms crossed. “I went to HR, and they said it’s from you. You just… threw in a $200 bump like it was nothing?”

He shrugs, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah, and?. You’ve been working hard, so you get a bump. Don’t make it a big deal.”

You stare at him, trying to hide the confusion. “But you couldn’t have just said something, I thought it was a true and honest mistake? I didn’t want to get in trouble or anything.”

“Not my problem. It’s in your paycheck. Deal with it,” he grunts, turning his attention back to his papers.

“But I-“ you were quickly cut off by his desk phone ringing.

“y/l/n can’t you just fuckin’ thank me? now get back to work don’t ever question me again” he says before answering the phone.

You stand there, a little speechless. You eventually turn around and leave his office just to sit at your desk still confused as ever.

⸻

work had been piling up, you started staying later than usual at nights. But this night was different.

It was supposed to be simple—just a few files left to organize, highlight, and prep for tomorrow morning. Everyone else on the floor had cleared out hours ago. You liked the quiet. No one breathing down your neck. Just your thoughts and the occasional creak of the building.

Then the elevator dinged.

You didn’t look up until you heard the crash—something hard slamming against the wall near the lift.

And then, there he was.

Him.

Pro Hero Dynamight. In full gear. Hair still wild from battle, jaw tight—and in his arms? A woman.

Not just any woman. A model. One you’d seen in magazines, ads, maybe even a billboard or two. And they weren’t just walking. They were clawing at each other, lips locked, her dress hitched halfway up her thighs. His hands all over her.

He didn’t even glance your way—until he did.

Right as he shoved open his office door.

His eyes locked on you. Smoldering. Unbothered. Maybe even a little amused.

And then he shut the door behind them. Click.

Seconds passed. Then minutes. Then you heard it.

The moaning. The banging. The desperate, ugly sounds of sex through that too-thin wall, and you didn’t even hesitate. You gathered your things, barely breathing, and booked it for the elevator before your face could give anything away. You didn’t look back.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The way he stared at you.

Like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

⸻

The next morning, you came in earlier than usual—half-hoping, half-praying you wouldn’t have to see him.

Your desk felt different. Like it had absorbed last night’s shame. The pens in your cup were crooked. The light too bright. You reorganized your files twice just to stop your hands from shaking.

You told yourself he wouldn’t bring it up.

He wouldn’t have to.

Because it meant nothing.

To him, it was just another Tuesday night. Another random girl. Another fuck.

And then… you saw him.

Striding across the hallway from his office—jacket slung over his shoulder, hair freshly wet from a shower, and a goddamn coffee in hand like he hadn’t just traumatized you twelve hours ago.

He didn’t even look at you. Not at first.

He passed your desk with that same practiced indifference, talking to a sidekick about an upcoming mission, barely blinking. You exhaled. Maybe it was just another night. Maybe he really didn’t care.

Then, without warning, he stopped mid-step. Turned his head just slightly. Your blood ran cold. But he kept walking. That was it. That tiny little jab, buried so deep it wouldn’t make sense to anyone else—but you knew.

He knew. And now he was watching to see what you’d do with it.

⸻

You didn’t do anything. What could you do?

You buried yourself in your work. Avoided his gaze when he passed your desk. Ignored the little smirk that tugged at his mouth every time your fingers trembled while handing him a report. You told yourself it would fade—that he’d get bored and move on.

But he didn’t. He kept finding reasons to come by. Most times it was work-related. sometimes it wasn’t.

“Where’s the file from yesterday? The one you highlighted.”

“There’s a typo on this one. Wanna tell me where your brain was?”

“You always jump when someone groans, or is that just me?”

“do you always wear skirts that short?”

And the worst part? He never looked guilty. Never embarrassed. Just amused. Like he’d found a new game to play—and you were the only one who didn’t know the rules.

⸻

The next night came.

You were once again the last one in the office, filing mission reports. This time, you double-checked the elevator schedule before staying late. Dynamight had a press conference that evening. He wouldn’t be back until hours later—if at all.

You let your guard down.

Big mistake.

Because when the elevator dinged around 10:43 p.m., and you turned expecting to see a janitor or a delivery guy—

It was him. Alone.

No model this time. Just Dynamight. Loose black tee, sweats slung low, dog tags catching the hall light. He didn’t say a word. Just walked down the hall, slow and deliberate, until he was standing at your desk.

You blinked up at him. “…Can I help you, sir?”

He stared for a moment—eyes hooded, lazy. Then leaned a forearm on your desk. “You’re always here late.” Your throat tightened. “There’s a lot to do.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, gaze dipping briefly to your lips. “That why you stayed last night too?”

“I—I didn’t realize anyone else was—”

“Oh, you realized.” That smug look returned. “You saw everything, didn’t you?” Heat crawled down your spine. He tilted his head slightly. “And what’d you think, secretary? Get a good show?” You stood up abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor.

“I’m—going home. I’m done for the night.”

But as you tried to slip past him, he didn’t move.

Just let his fingers graze the edge of your desk—then yours. Soft. Barely there. Enough to make you stop.

And his voice? Lower this time. Quieter. Laced with something darker. “I fucked her thinking about you all alone out here” he said under his breath, not loud enough for you to hear.

As you took the bus home after work, his words lingered in your mind. he made you feel like some dirty pervert.

⸻

The following day came, you were a nervous wreck coming to work and praying to whoever was up there to not see him again. But for some reason lady luck was on your side because word got around that Dynamight wouldn’t be in office due for a little to an over ran mission a couple of cities over. You felt the weight of what was like an elephant lift from your shoulders hearing it. The next couple of days you could breathe and get your work done, until the night he came back. You weren’t planning to stay late again but the mission reports were a mess, your inbox was full, and your brain was too fried to say no when your team lead asked for help. Plus you wanted to get it all done so you could go home early for the weekend tomorrow.

Everyone else had left. The sun was long gone, the sky a navy blur behind the tall glass windows. You figured he was still out. Same patrol mission or high-level meeting.

You were so fucking wrong.

The elevator dinged at 11:36pm. You didn’t even look up because you just KNEW. you heard the heavy bootsteps crossing the hall, slow and measured—each one landing like they meant something.

You slowly looked up. There he was.

Hair messy from the wind, shirt clinging to his frame, jaw sharp with tension like he’d been gritting it for hours. He didn’t say anything—just stood there, watching you behind that massive front desk like you were the one interrupting him.

You swallowed. HARD. “…e-evening.”

A low hum left his throat, his gaze staying on you like you were the only thing in the room.

He didn’t walk away. Just shifted his weight slightly, his eyes scanning your desk. You could feel the pressure of his stare, like he was seeing right through you.

You followed his line of sight—realizing too late that your files were fanned out everywhere. Messy. Color-coded. Your pink highlighter cap left open next to your now cold coffee.

Shit.

You scrambled to get up and gather everything, heart thudding harder than you’d like to admit. “I—I’ll get these off before I leave. I just wanted to finish highlighting—”

He didn’t let you finish.

One step closer, without warning.

His body moved with purpose, no hesitation. He didn’t lean in, didn’t raise his voice, but somehow his presence swallowed you whole.

He just tapped twice—once, twice—on the corner of a sticky note beside your hand.

Then, his voice came, low, clipped, a little too calm for your liking.

“Next time you highlight mission details…”

“…don’t use pink.”

he paused for a moment looking at you while his finger was still resting on the sticky note.

“I fucking hate pink.”

You stiffened, trying to shake off the irritation that bubbled up in your chest.

“Well, maybe I’m not here to impress you,” you muttered under your breath, your annoyance pushing you further than you meant to go.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even react at first.

You tried to ignore the sudden heat crawling up your neck. It was just a comment—nothing more.

But then you saw it.

His lips curled into a faint smirk, that signature cocky grin of his. He leaned in just a little more, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket like he was too relaxed, too calm for the situation.

“Not here to impress me?” His voice was smooth, almost condescending. “Then why the hell are you even still here, huh?”

Your jaw tightened. You were about to fire back, but he wasn’t done.

He took another step forward. This time, there was no space left between you.

His eyes narrowed, gaze dropping from your face to the pink highlighter in your hand. He reached out, slowly, deliberately, taking the cap from the table and flicking it absentmindedly.

His eyes met yours, cold but sharp. He didn’t blink.

“You wanna talk back to me, huh? You wanna act like you don’t care what I think?” He leaned in closer, close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off his body. “You’ll get real fucking tired of that attitude real fast.”

You tried to hold your ground, but something in the air was shifting. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating in a way that made you feel small. Vulnerable. He was in your space now—too close. But you couldn’t bring yourself to back away.

“What, you think I’m scared of you?” Your voice was steady, though your heart was pounding in your chest.

His lips curled into a knowing grin, his fingers brushing the back of your hand like it was nothing. But the touch was deliberate. “No, but I think you like it.”

You inhaled sharply, your pulse quickening.

“Like what?” you breathed, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer.

“Like it when I call you out,” he replied, his voice dripping with something dangerously close to amusement. “Like it when I make you feel something you don’t know how to handle.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, he stepped back.

His eyes locked onto yours one last time, with a smooth, and mocking tone. “Not here to impress me, huh? Guess what? You’re not fooling anyone.”

You bristled at the implication, trying to pull away from the tension that was building in the space between you two. But he didn’t let up. Instead, he moved even closer, stepping into your personal space until there was barely an inch of air between you.

“Keep playing it cool,” he continued, his voice dropping an octave, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “But I know exactly what you want.“

His lips were only inches from yours now, and you could feel his breath warm against your skin.

Your heart pounded, and the words escaped you before you could stop them.

“And what exactly do you think I want?” you breathed.

His grin widened, a wicked, confident curl of his lips, and then, in a voice that was barely a whisper, he answered, “You want me to prove it.”

“fuck you” that’s all it took.

And before you could even process what he meant, he was on you.

His hands found your waist, lifting you onto the desk, making sure there was no space between you. The way he kissed you, with so much force and urgency, made it clear he wasn’t about to stop.

You gasped as he trailed his lips down to your collarbone, his hands already pulling at your shirt, lifting it over your head. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but in the best way. The heat in your body was building rapidly, your skin tingling where his hands brushed.

“I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before,” he growled, his lips back on yours with a hunger you couldn’t resist.

You pulled him closer, urging him to take what he wanted, because deep down, you knew you were past the point of no return.

And when his hands moved to the waistband of your pants, you didn’t hesitate, lifting your hips to let him undress you completely.

He didn’t waste any time, his mouth back on your neck, his hands working to free himself from his pants, all while he never broke eye contact with you.

“Say my name,” he demanded, his voice thick with lust, the words slipping from him in a low growl.

You could hardly breathe, let alone think. But somehow, you managed to whisper, “Dynamight.”

He smirked against your neck, his hand coming down on your ass with a harsh smack, the sound echoing in the quiet room. You jolted, a breathless gasp escaping your lips, and he leaned back, his eyes narrowing.

“I said, say MY fucking name,” he repeated, his voice a little sharper this time.

You moaned, your body aching for more as you looked up at him with a pleading expression. “Katsuki,” you whined, your voice higher, desperate. The sound of his name on your lips, the way it twisted in the air between you two, sent him into a frenzy.

He didn’t give you a moment to recover—he grabbed your thighs and dragged you to the edge of the desk, his mouth crashing into yours again, hungry and unrelenting. You felt the hard press of his cock against your bare core, still hidden behind the fabric of his boxers, and you instinctively rolled your hips, chasing the friction you so desperately needed.

“You’re drivin’ me fuckin’ insane,” he hissed against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you—flushed, panting, pupils blown wide. “Actin’ like you didn’t want this. Walkin’ around the office in those tight little skirts… lookin’ at me like that… like you wanted to be fucked.”

You whimpered, and he chuckled darkly, pulling his boxers down and letting his cock spring free. The sight alone had your breath hitching, and he noticed.

“Yeah?” he muttered, stroking himself slowly as he watched your reaction. “This what you’ve been needin’? Bet your fingers couldn’t even come close to makin’ you feel this full.”

And then he pushed in—slowly, almost teasing, stretching you inch by inch until your back arched and a breathless moan spilled from your lips, your eyes rolling in the back of your skull.

“Fuck—you feel better than I ever imagined,” he gritted, gripping your hips so tight you knew he’d leave marks. “Tight little pussy takin’ me so well.”

He set a brutal pace, snapping his hips against yours, the desk creaking beneath you both his as your body rocked with each thrust. You could barely form words—just whimpers and his name on loop like a prayer.

And then, just when you thought it couldn’t get filthier, he leaned in, his voice rasping directly into your ear.

“You know how many girls I’ve fucked the last two weeks?”

Each word was punctuated by a hard, punishing thrust.

“Every. Single. ONE of them—I thought about you.”

You gasped, your nails clawing at his back as your orgasm built dangerously fast.“Thought bout how beautiful you’d look bent over my fuckin’ desk takin’ my cock.”

Your eyes rolled back, the filthy words and his relentless rhythm dragging you closer to the edge. Your whole body trembled under him, your mind trying to deny it, trying to keep up, but your body had already surrendered. It needed him. All of him.

“And how amazing your tits would look bouncin’ in my face as you ride me.” he leaned down to your chest and sucked on your tit as he fondled the other with his free hand.

You gasped as his words hit you like a wave, the sharpness of his growl sending a tremor through your body. Every word he spoke, every thrust, made it harder to remember what it was you were supposed to resist.

His pace quickened, and you were helpless under him. Each snap of his hips felt like a jolt of electricity, shooting through your veins, making you gasp and moan for him. The desk beneath you scraped against the floor as he pushed you closer to the edge, and all you could do was hold on, your fingers digging into the wood as you clung to whatever semblance of control you had left.

“Say my name again,” he commanded, his voice thick with need. “Say it and mean it this time.”

“Kats-sukiiiiiaaa,” you breathed, your head thrown back, the sensation of him inside you almost too much to handle. You could feel your walls tightening around him, your body already on the brink of breaking. You were so close—so close you could taste it.

His lips curled into a wicked grin as he saw the desperation in your eyes, his pace never slowing. “That’s it, princess,” he growled, his hand snaking down to rub your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. “You’re mine now. All mine and not any of these shitty extras around this place”.

You could barely respond, your mind clouded with the pleasure he was giving you. Every inch of your body felt like it was on fire, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core until you were trembling with the effort of holding back.

And then, with one last, forceful thrust, he drove you over the edge. Your body arched against him, your moans a desperate mixture of his name and incoherent sounds. His name tumbled from your lips again, this time louder, as your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and weak.

But Bakugou didn’t stop. He wasn’t done with you yet.

He kept going, pushing you through your orgasm with a brutal determination that had you gasping for air. His thrusts grew erratic, faster, harder, as his own release approached. His breath was ragged in your ear, and the sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room.

With one final growl, he pulled you closer, his hand gripping your hips as he buried himself deep inside you, his release spilling over as he held you against him, each shuddering breath making it clear just how much he needed you—how much he’d been holding back.

For a long moment, you both stayed like that, tangled in each other’s arms, breathless and spent. He kissed your forehead softly, a rare moment of tenderness after the storm, but the fire in his eyes never fully faded.

“Next time,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, “I’ll be fuckin’ you in my bed not some flimsy office desk.”

You smiled, your fingers tracing the muscles in his back as you both tried to catch your breath. This… this was just the beginning.

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Forgiveness

Cregan Stark x Reader

Summary: Cregan begs for his wife’s forgiveness when he accidentally injures her.

Warning: no use of y/n, dirty talk/mentions of smut, injuries, i'm pretty sure that's it

Word Count: 2.3k

Masterlist

Cregan sat in his study, buried in letters and decrees that claimed they required the utmost attention. They all said that even if they truly did not require that level of priority. However, everyone wanted their Lord’s approval and signature, leaving him to sort through what was a priority and what could wait. In some ways he missed the war, at least he was fighting and protecting his realm then. He felt like a true lord then. Now, he may as well be a bureaucrat locked in some tower of the Red Keep, imprisoned by his own position.

As he moved on to some sort of land dispute, there was a harsh knock on his door. “Enter,” he called, not even looking up.

The large, heavy door swung open, revealing a guard. “Lady Stark, my lord,” he announced.

Interest piqued, Cregan looked up just in time to see the guard step aside, revealing his lady wife. Without having to be dismissed, the man exited, shutting the door behind him to leave the couple alone.

“I haven’t seen you all day,” his wife explained her presence, approaching his desk.

For the first time that day, the Warden of the North took a break from his work, setting his quill down and leaning back in his seat. Sparing a glance out the window, he realized that it was dark. It had only been mid-afternoon when he sat down to begin his bureaucratic duties. “I suppose you’re right,” he confirmed, recalling that he had gently pressed a kiss against his sleeping wife’s head when he woke before disappearing for the day.

Opening his arms, he invited her to approach. Taking his cue, the lady of the north took a seat on his lap, easily slotting into his body. It was a well known fact that the Lord and Lady of Winterfell were unusually affectionate for a pairing of such high status. Typically, love was reserved for those who did not marry for status, or for extramarital affairs. But it seemed the Stark couple had been quite lucky in their match.

“The day has ended, we should go to bed,” Cregan’s wife asked in a soft voice, her fingers trailing through the hair she swept away from his face.

He smiled, finding his tension soothed by her mere presence. “Aye, I wish that I could but this has to be done,” he sighed, gesturing to his desk still covered in documents.

Observing all the work, the lady sighed, leaning her head against her husband’s for a moment. “But you, my lord, are the Warden of the North. Who is to tell you when things must be done?” she asked suggestively, knowing what calling him ‘my lord,’ did to her husband.

Cregan let out the faintest growl, wanting to dive into his wife right there but he restrained himself. “Why I thought that was your job,” he teased.

Fortunately, she laughed, throwing her head back in a way that made Cregan want to mark her neck in the way he so loved. “Please,” she dismissed, “I can hardly get my own husband into bed. How can I tell you what to do?”

He chuckled. “Fortunately for no one, my discipline is strong enough to withstand your temptations. Although, I admit they are barely capable. I swear to you,” he began, gently lifting his wife from his lap, “that I will be in our chambers within the next hour,” he said, eyes flickering to the candle on his desk that was nearly at its end. “I expect you to be ready for me,” he uttered darkly.

His wife blushed like it was their wedding night again, despite hearing far more vulgar things from her husband. “And how shall you expect me?” she asked teasingly.

Cregan bit his lip. As adorable as he found his wife when she was shy and coy at the mere inclination of sex, he loved when she was daring and teasing. He thought for a moment, staying silent for longer than necessary only to create an illusion for his wife. “Naked. On our bed. With your fingers between your legs.”

~

Once again Cregan found himself locked away in his office, buried in endless paperwork. He was deeply entrenched in some matter of land disputes when the door suddenly burst open. Cregan looked up in astonishment, his mouth open to reprimand them for their dismissal of protocol.

“My apologies, my lord,” the out of breath guard interrupted. “But a wildling has attempted to enter Winterfell. Says he wants to be a southerner, like us.”

Cregan quirked a brow, utterly confused as to why this required so much urgency and why someone had dared call him a southerner. “And why does this require so much urgency that you have broken protocol?”

“The gatesmaster believes this may be some sort of ruse to breach the walls of Winterfell.”

Cregan nodded, standing up. As he exited his office, he found a group of guards standing outside, seemingly waiting to follow them outside. He did not say anything about the waste of manpower at his door but headed outside. “Which gate was it?” he asked.

“The north gate,” his guard answered.

Nodding, the Warden of the North headed out to the northern courtyard. As he exited the walls of the keep, he intended to greet the gatesmaster who stood talking to another sentry. But catching sight of the supposed wildling made him freeze. Standing there by the gate was a disheveled man, looking as if he had spent his entire life in the woods. And talking to him, unguarded, was the Lady of Winterfell.

Cregan abandoned his path towards his gatemaster to get his wife away from the wildling. Who would have possibly thought it would be wise to leave both the wildling and his wife unguarded, even more so to let them meet? He was not thinking clearly as he reached the pair, grabbing his wife’s arm to wrench her away from the vile man before her. He must have pulled harder than intended because she let out a yelp as he did so. Still, he did not comprehend it as he whirled around to face his men, still clutching her arm.

“Who left them unguarded?” he demanded, his voice booming so loud it silenced the entire courtyard. He watched in rage as the crowd of men all sent glances to one another.

The spell was only broken by his wife’s cry. “Cregan, you’re hurting me,” he heard his wife whimper. Finally looking at her, he realized just how tightly he was gripping her arm. He relaxed his grip a bit, but still held on tight enough to push her so she stood in front of him, making himself a barrier between her and the wildling. She let out another cry as he jerked her, her free hand reaching for the hand clutched around her arm. She grabbed his wrist in a futile attempt to get him to let go. “Cregan, let go,” she cried again.

Seeing his wife’s face twisted in pain, the Lord of Winterfell realized what he had done. Quickly, he released his grasp, her arm falling into her own grasp. The cold air that whipped through Winterfell became biting as Cregan watched his wife cradle her arm against her chest, backing away from him as if he were the threat. As she backed up toward a guard, gesturing for him to escort her away, Cregan’s heart broke as he realized that in that moment, she felt safer with a guard than with him.

His jaw clenched as he leveled a glare to the men that had followed him, realizing that they had all run to tell him what was happening rather than do their actual jobs. He turned to his gatesmaster who had approached them by now, the few guards who had remained now taking hold of the wildling. “Take him to the dungeons I will deal with him later,” he gestured to the potential threat. “As to this lot, see to it they have nights watch for the next week.” He leveled one last glare at the group of men before heading back inside, intent on finding his wife.

Cregan was already planning his apology to his wife as he reached the hall that housed their chambers. As he walked down the hall, the guard that had escorted her earlier exited his chambers before taking his post just outside the door, sparking some level of unfounded jealousy.

As Cregan walked up to the door, the guard gave him a slight bow. “My lord,” he greeted. He did not reply, simply continuing toward the door, waiting for the guard to open it. But rather, he just spoke again, “The lady has asked me to inform you that she wishes to be left alone.”

Cregan stopped, looking incredulously at the guard. His words stung to hear. He had sworn an oath to protect his wife and had promised her parents that he would be a good husband and never hurt her. Yet here he stood, being barred from his wife by her own wish, with a man of his employ guarding her against him. The sentry looked deeply uncomfortable under his lord’s glare. He truly wanted to honor the wishes of his liege lady but her husband’s orders came first. Reluctantly he reached over, opening the door for the Lord of Winterfell.

Satisfied with his influence, Cregan strolled into his chambers, intending to begin the apology when he stopped short upon seeing the room empty. He turned to look at the guard as if to ask where his wife was. “Some maids escorted her to the maesters,” he informed nervously.

Cregan leveled yet another glare at the man before clenching his jaw and exiting the room, storming towards the maester. As the lord of Winterfell left, his guard briefly considered alternative employment.

Although Cregan had stormed towards the maester’s turret throughout Winterfell, he slowed as he approached the structure. Despite the guards posted outside holding the door open for him, he paused before the building, taking a breath. His wife’s scared expression flashed through his mind and that was a sight he never wanted to see again, yet he knew he would never forget it. The image made all the rage evaporate from him as he slowly entered the turret.

Ascending the stairs, he reached the healing room that he had often visited as a boy. Always having his training injuries and general wounds of boyhood treated here. Sat on the bench in only her shift and skirts was Cregan’s wife, having her arm bandaged in a way that held it to her chest, just as she had chosen to hold it.

Maester Kennet noticed the lord first, slowly halting his movements to look at the man. His wife turned to see the reason for the maester’s pause. She turned, finding her husband standing at the top of the stairs looking like a hollow version of himself. His face looked crestfallen as if he were informing them of a death.

Before she could snub him with a turned gaze, Cregan fell to a knee, his head bowed. “My lady, I truly do wish to apologize to you. I truly never meant to harm you,” he began, his voice dripping with a desire to be believed. “I swore an oath to protect you, as that was all I was trying to do. But instead, I hurt you, and that is a failure I will carry with me until my grave. I understand if you are unable to forgive me, I was being brash and absentminded. But all I ask is that I may be near you.” He looked up slowly, meeting his wife’s gaze. He could not read anything from it aside from pain.

Cregan had felt the pain of wounds of war before, but nothing hurt more than when his wife turned to look at Maester Kennet. But she only whispered a dismissal before looking back to her husband again. Cregan stood eagerly as the man’s hands gently left his wife’s shoulder before he approached his lord. The aging man paused beside Cregan, patting his shoulder momentarily before continuing down the stairs, leaving the couple in privacy.

Cautiously, Cregan approached his lady, once again crouching before her. “I truly am sorry,” he repeated. His wife said nothing as her gaze fell to her lap. But she turned her non-bound hand over in her lap, inviting his hand in hers. Cregan took it eagerly, his other hand going to her face to brush her hair aside as he gently grasped it. “I love you,” he breathed.

“I love you too,” she cried, falling into him. Cregan caught her, careful of her shoulder as he held her close, even pressing a kiss to the injured area as if promising to care for her.

He continued to hold her and continued to apologize. “I truly did not intend to harm you. I just saw you standing with that wildling, unguarded and all I knew was that I had to get you away from him.”

A comforting hand in his hair soothed him, halting his words. “I know,” she assured. “Maester Kennet explained why you were so upset. I apologize for not being more cautious. I just felt he was being treated unjustly.”

Cregan pulled away only enough to look at his wife, nodding in understanding. “You have a large heart,” he commended. “And it is my job to protect it. Sometimes I get carried away with it.”

The lady smiled, “Well I don’t suppose I can fault you for that.”

Cregan smiled at her forgiveness, once again holding her close. With all forgiven, he gained a teasing lilt to his voice. “Did you send that guard to our chambers to intentionally mislead me?”

“Perhaps,” she agreed, the teasing lilt finding her voice as well. But she attempted to distract from it with a stroke against his back. “I was quite irritated with you.” Cregan just chucked, the rumble of his laugh soothing his wife as they fell back into normalcy.

Masterlist

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

a beautiful little lie. [chapter 1] l Harry Castillo

Summary:  you are the personal assistant of Harry Castillo, a wealthy entrepreneur who asks you to go with him to his friend's wedding. there you meet your ex-boyfriend and things get out of hand

Warnings: fluff, a little bit of angst, friends to lovers (maybe?), one pregnant woman, some alcohol, two broken hearts, one lie

A/N: I'm not sure if I should have posted this. But I couldn't help myself because this story has been in my head for two days and if I don't get it out I'm going to go crazy. Let me know what you think and if I should continue. Thanks to the people who put up with my doubtful ranting. please be gentle with me.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist][Harry Castillo masterlist] [a beautiful little lie- series masterlist]

"I told you that you should put up a signpost or sprinkle crumbs on the floor."

There was a sigh on the other end of the phone, and you smiled to yourself. You drove Harry Castillo to the brink of madness. “You’ve been to my apartment so many times, so why haven’t you learned the layout yet? You know where my office is.”

"I don't know." you replied, pouting your lip. "Maybe because it's a real maze?"

"Where are you?"

“I’m standing in front of some weird sculpture.” You looked at this piece of art, which was probably worth a few thousand dollars, for five minutes, Harry probably thought you were wandering around his penthouse.

Another sigh. He was already close to breaking down, but he tried to sound calm. His low, warm voice resonated in your receiver again. "How weird is this sculpture?"

"Weird enough."

You could barely contain your laughter when you heard a muffled "Jesus Christ." You adjusted the folders you were holding in your arms, looking around the spacious hallway. The conclusion appeared in your head that Harry would soon start looking for you himself, so you spoke up.

"I see the kitchen on the right."

"Great. So go left." He rubbed his eyes with his hand and leaned back in the chair. He could hear your footsteps in the receiver. "You should pass three rooms on the left, then turn right and..."

"Oh!"

A strange shiver ran down his spine. "What's that 'oh' supposed to mean?"

You cleared your throat. "Harry, this room is weird. I didn't expect that from you..."

"W-What? What are you talking about..."

"These whips, the leather... Jesus. And this?" There was silence for a moment. Harry thought it would take forever. "How is that supposed to fit in there? It won't fit. Or maybe..."

“What the hell?!” he shot up in his chair. “Where are you?” but out of the corner of his eye he noticed the door to his office open.

His assistant stood there, clutching a folder of documents to her chest and the most disarming smile on her face. He rolled his eyes, unsure whether he should fire her or kill her.

"Gotcha!" You chuckled and entered the office with a determined step "I brought what you asked for."

Harry Castillo, CEO of a large multi-million dollar company, watched as his assistant placed a folder of documents and Chinese takeout in front of him. It was supposed to be another Friday night, where you try to plan the coming week instead of trying your luck at bars or watching TV on the couch.

You had worked for him for almost a year, and your relationship had quickly changed from formal to friendly. Although you still called him Mr. Castillo at work, you were both more casual outside of that setting.

The job was very fulfilling, but your personal life was a complete mess. Apart from a few friends at work, there wasn't much going on there. But the pay was decent, and your boss was a really nice guy, so...

"Mark said he'd send the report tonight. That email you were waiting for also arrived." you said, sitting down on the comfortable chair in front of his desk and quickly scrolling through your phone "Mrs. Smith asked to contact you after the weekend. She has a few questions about the contract."

It wasn't until you tore your gaze away from the screen that you noticed Harry watching you intently from behind the desk, his dark eyes fixed on you. The white T-shirt hugged his broad, strong shoulders nicely, and a smile played on his lips.

"Is something wrong?" you asked uncertainly.

"I need you." Harry replied. Now a strange shiver ran down your spine and you gripped your phone tighter.

"What do you mean?"

He tilted his head without taking his gaze off you. "I need a woman."

He watched with delight as your eyes widened and your mouth parted in silent surprise. It took a lot of effort not to burst out laughing at the sight.

"A w-women?" you finally repeated in a choked voice "In what sense? To what? No! Don't tell me!"

You squeezed your eyes shut, raising your hands as if you wanted to stop him, although Harry was still sitting at his desk and still just staring at you.

Finally he decided to take pity on you. “A good friend of mine is getting married on Saturday. I want you to go with me.”

You opened one eye, then the other, and burst out laughing. “No, no, no!” you shook your head. “Good joke. I go with you to client meetings, not to your friends’ weddings. You have many friends, beautiful women, why don’t you invite any of them?”

Harry leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. He was a handsome man, and you were sure there were plenty of women who would love to go to a party like this with him.

"Maybe I've already asked them and you're the only one left, darling?"

“Ouch, that hurt.” you mumbled, squinting. “I’ll have to say no too. I don’t have…”

"I'll buy you a dress tomorrow, no problem. The wedding is in the afternoon, so we'll make it." He smiled at you as if the decision had already been made and you had no other choice.

“Harry…” You sighed. “That’s not the point. You know, I… I don’t think I’m cut out for this.” He frowned, so you tried to explain. “These people, your friends, aren’t my world. They’re always so beautiful and dazzling, and I…”

“What do you mean?” he asked. “Do you think I'm some kind of higher class or something? A better species of human?”

"Can I be honest? On the Titanic you would definitely have first class. I would have been below deck."

“Jesus!” he laughed and shook his head. “I assure you, honey, you will be the most interesting person at this wedding. I know what I mean. Besides, you will be with me. If this ship sinks, you can take the door, I won’t argue with you about it.”

You shook your head, smiling slightly and not believing that you had given in to him.

The place looked like it was cut out of a wedding magazine. Your eyes moved from the crystal chandelier, to the tables covered with snow-white tablecloths, to the vases with beautiful bouquets of flowers. Soft music flowed from the corner of the room where a band made up of several professional musicians stood.

You almost jumped when someone placed a hand on your back. "Harry, don't do that." You said, feeling your heart speed up.

"I'm sorry, are you okay?" he asked, smiling friendly. He looked stunning in a well-tailored suit and styled hair. When you nodded, he led you to your table.

He could see that you were stressed. Although you looked stunning in your dress, which beautifully emphasized your curves, and many eyes were looking after you, you kept smiling nervously and were rather silent. It wasn't like you so Harry did everything to cheer you up, and he was great at it. 

He didn't leave you alone with people you didn't know for long, his arm always served as your support and he made you laugh whenever he had the chance. That evening would have passed pleasantly if not for the fact that when you were coming back from the bathroom you heard a familiar voice that froze you. Someone said your name and when you turned around you saw him.

"Daniel! What a surprise! What are you doing here?" you smiled even though you had the impression that someone had just squeezed your insides with a vice.

A tall and slim brunette approached you smiling, the suit he was wearing looked really impressive. "It's my friend's wedding. And what are you doing here? Are you a friend?"

"I'm accompanying someone." you replied.

Daniel nodded in appreciation. "I came with my wife. Do you remember Beth?"

Oh, you remembered Beth. Very well to be honest. It was for her that he left you three years ago. You followed your gaze to the place he indicated and saw a beautiful blonde with a nicely rounded belly. Something sharp must have pierced your heart, but you bravely smiled.

"Still looking for a job?" Daniel leaned slightly towards you. "A friend of mine is looking for a secretary. He runs a construction company, I can give you his number."

"Thank you, but I'm not looking for a job right now. I'm happy with what I have."

Daniel shrugged. "You've never needed much, have you?"

The words got stuck in your throat. For a few moments you didn't know what to answer, and at the same time you were afraid that whatever left your lips would be immediately turned against you. Daniel was a master at this.

Suddenly, someone said your name again and in the back of the room you noticed Harry, who was walking away from a group of elegant-looking men and heading towards you.

"It's Harry Castillo." Daniel mumbled, straightening up. "I didn't know he was here."

"Yeah, it's his good friend's wedding. We came together and..."

"You're with Harry Castillo?"

It was too easy. You knew perfectly well that you shouldn't do it, but your lips moved before your brain had time to react properly. "Yes, we're here together."

It wasn't a lie. Not completely.

"I was worried about you." Harry said, walking over to you and smiling politely at Daniel. He quickly extended his hand in greeting.

"Daniel Stevens." He introduced himself. "I'm a lawyer."

"Nice to meet you." Harry looked at you expectantly.

"Daniel and I, we've known each other for a while. And this is his wife, Beth."

A pretty blonde walked up to you and Daniel put his arm around her, straightening up proudly. A woman like her was definitely the crowning achievement of his career. You weren't cut out for this. 

Even though you kept a smile on your lips, the whole conversation felt like a speeding bus was heading towards you. Harry was as polite as ever and didn't even bat an eyelid when Daniel mentioned "She said that you are together. It must be something new, because nothing has spread around town yet."

"We want to keep it private. You understand, Daniel." Harry replied smoothly and without hesitation, placing his hand on the small of your back and looking at you fondly. "A woman like that is a treasure, I want to enjoy her before we show ourselves to the world."

Daniel nodded as if he understood what Harry meant, and Beth let out a fond sigh. After a few moments, you said goodbye and Harry led you towards the door.

“Do you want to tell me more?” he asked quietly, more amused than angry.

You shook your head. "Just throw me under the car." you muttered "Damn! I knew I shouldn't have come here."

Harry immediately sensed that something was wrong. You seemed more tense and withdrawn during the whole conversation. "Who was that?" he asked.

You took a deep breath. "My ex-boyfriend. And Beth... That's the woman he left me for. And as you can see, she's pregnant now. Wonderful, right?" you tried to laugh, but it came out so fake that you quickly fell silent.

"So that's why you told him that you and I... That we're together?"

You stopped. You looked so pathetic that his heart almost broke.

"I didn't lie to him. Not really." you finally said. "I told him that we were here together. Daniel took it differently."

“So maybe I should explain it to him?” Harry made a move as if to go back to the party and find Daniel, but you quickly grabbed his arm.

"No, please!" you groaned. "Don't make me feel even worse. This whole situation is already embarrassing enough. Daniel will forget about it by tomorrow."

"If you say so." Harry sighed and put his arm around you. "Come on, I'll take you home. It's been a long day."

You were quiet as you climbed into the backseat of his car, your gaze barely leaving the window as the driver drove you through the dark city. Harry didn't say a word either, respecting your silence. But this wasn't how he expected the evening to end.

It wasn’t until you were standing in front of your apartment that he heard your quiet voice. “Thank you, Harry. And I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

He smiled, and at the same time, a small smile appeared on your lips. He reached for your hand and squeezed it lightly. “You always have me by your side. And you can always count on me.”

"I know. Thank you."

He watched you for a moment longer, then you said goodbye to him and the driver and got out, leaving him alone.

Harry Castillo had almost everything a man his age could ever want. A thriving company that was making millions, a penthouse in the heart of New York City, and an expensive car. But the expensive suits he wore and the clothes made of the best materials couldn't hide what he really lacked. Closeness.

Although he was surrounded by many people, when the door to his 12 million apartment closed behind him, he felt really lonely. Harry was slowly approaching fifty and was starting to wonder if it wasn't a bit too late for him. Maybe he had missed a moment in his life?

Yes, he had met many beautiful women, had gone on dates, but it was never long-term, and that was exactly what he was looking for. He wanted someone who could be just his, who would love him and ask how his day was. Someone he could watch stupid movies with on the couch, go on vacation, or just be bored. Was he asking for too much?

"Do we really have to do this today? Everyone has gone home." The door to his office slammed shut, and then he heard a dull thud as you plopped down on the couch. Harry smiled to himself and turned away from the huge window that overlooked the city at night.

"We'll get this over with in a minute and then I'll drop you home. Is that okay with you?" he asked, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling up the sleeves.

You rolled your eyes and sighed. "I'm not sure. I could have snuck out with the others."

"My personal assistant tells me things like that?" he frowned, but at the same time smiled and sat down next to you. "It's just some folders to look through. It'll take us an hour at most. Would you like a drink?"

You shook your head and lifted the mug of tea you had brought with you. You grabbed the first folder and flipped through it. "You have a sponsors' party this week. I've cleared the evening and morning for you."

"Thank you."

For a moment, you were both focused on your work. You were putting the next reviewed documents on the empty chair, and the room was filled with your quiet typing on the laptop keyboard. Harry took a sip of whiskey and glanced in your direction.

You were so focused that you completely ignored him. A small wrinkle appeared between your eyebrows as your eyes ran over the next lines of text.

“Would you like to go to this party with me?” he asked, breaking the silence, and when you looked at him, he added, “We’ve been having quite a bit of fun together lately.”

“Do you really think so?” you were surprised, remembering Daniel and the situation that had taken place at the wedding. “Can’t you bring one of your friends with you? You were dating Jean recently, right? What about her?”

Harry shook his head and smacked his lips. “It’s over. I don’t know if it’s even started, though.” He shrugged, and you felt sorry for him. Harry was a really great guy, even though he was your boss. Handsome, tall, well-mannered, he always made the people around him feel seen.

“Can I be honest?” you asked, putting your work aside for a moment, and Harry’s brown eyes landed on you expectantly. “I feel like you’ve jumped headfirst into a pool without even knowing how much water there is. I mean, when you meet someone and you just go for it. Expensive restaurants, gifts, flowers, weekends together… You fulfill all their dreams and whims, and yet you don’t want anything in return. I wonder where you are in all of this.”

Harry analyzed your words for a moment, until he finally spoke. "So you think I should..."

"You should really get to know someone first. And then they should get to know you too. Because you have a lot to offer, and I don't mean money or anything like that. But the real you..."

Silence fell after your words. You stared at Harry's profile, his prominent nose, the fine lines around his eyes, you noticed a few grey hairs at his temple. He was really handsome and you were surprised that you had to explain such things to him.

Finally, he moved his gaze to your face again. "How is it possible that you are still single?"

You smiled sadly. "I am a lot to handle."

"Not true. Who told you that?"

But you didn’t answer that question. Harry could tell you were sad, though you tried to hide it by looking back at your computer screen. “I think we should get back to work.” You finally said. “We don’t have much left.”

For a moment his attentive gaze rested on you, analyzing your words.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[byoldervine]

Types Of Writer’s Block (And How To Fix Them)

1. High inspiration, low motivation. You have so many ideas to write, but you just don’t have the motivation to actually get them down, and even if you can make yourself start writing it you’ll often find yourself getting distracted or disengaged in favour of imagining everything playing out

Try just bullet pointing the ideas you have instead of writing them properly, especially if you won’t remember it afterwards if you don’t. At least you’ll have the ideas ready to use when you have the motivation later on

2. Low inspiration, high motivation. You’re all prepared, you’re so pumped to write, you open your document aaaaand… three hours later, that cursor is still blinking at the top of a blank page

RIP pantsers but this is where plotting wins out; refer back to your plans and figure out where to go from here. You can also use your bullet points from the last point if this is applicable

3. No inspiration, no motivation. You don’t have any ideas, you don’t feel like writing, all in all everything is just sucky when you think about it

Make a deal with yourself; usually when I’m feeling this way I can tell myself “Okay, just write anyway for ten minutes and after that, if you really want to stop, you can stop” and then once my ten minutes is up I’ve often found my flow. Just remember that, if you still don’t want to keep writing after your ten minutes is up, don’t keep writing anyway and break your deal - it’ll be harder to make deals with yourself in future if your brain knows you don’t honour them

4. Can’t bridge the gap. When you’re stuck on this one sentence/paragraph that you just don’t know how to progress through. Until you figure it out, productivity has slowed to a halt

Mark it up, bullet point what you want to happen here, then move on. A lot of people don’t know how to keep writing after skipping a part because they don’t know exactly what happened to lead up to this moment - but you have a general idea just like you do for everything else you’re writing, and that’s enough. Just keep it generic and know you can go back to edit later, at the same time as when you’re filling in the blank. It’ll give editing you a clear purpose, if nothing else

5. Perfectionism and self-doubt. You don’t think your writing is perfect first time, so you struggle to accept that it’s anything better than a total failure. Whether or not you’re aware of the fact that this is an unrealistic standard makes no difference

Perfection is stagnant. If you write the perfect story, which would require you to turn a good story into something objective rather than subjective, then after that you’d never write again, because nothing will ever meet that standard again. That or you would only ever write the same kind of stories over and over, never growing or developing as a writer. If you’re looking back on your writing and saying “This is so bad, I hate it”, that’s generally a good thing; it means you’ve grown and improved. Maybe your current writing isn’t bad, if just matched your skill level at the time, and since then you’re able to maintain a higher standard since you’ve learned more about your craft as time went on

[joonsytip]

Beyond the Transcripts || Wonwoo [Teaser]

Pairings: Ceo!Wonwoo x Legal Head!Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, exes to co-parents to lovers au, second chances au.

Synopsis: Jeon Wonwoo, the calmest and untainted CEO to ever exist, gets his world shaken up when he finds you as the legal department head at his own company and your only registered family is a little guy who resembles him a bit too much.

Alternatively, you are smooth in onboarding Wonwoo into your son's life but problems arise when he tries to slide back into yours.

Warnings: Themes of co parenting, mentions of past difficult pregnancy, misogynistic slurs being used at workplace, minor accident, profanities, heartbreak, secret identity, workplace jargons.

Drop Date: Anyday next month.

Check out the masterlist for THAT'S SHOWBIZ, BABY! Please support all the amazing writers white putting up so much effort!

Thanks to @lovetaroandtaemin, Ally for coming up with this beautiful banner (even after I ate her ears off and made her do several banners for this one), I'm really grateful!

TAGLIST is open, send an ask/comment to be added.

At the sound of the door closing, your gaze lifts.

Wonwoo walks towards you, in large but steady strides, just as you have remembered. He stands in front of you, at a distance. Your gazes meet and the time stops.

Wonwoo hasn't changed much, his eyes hold the same depth. He, you assume, still likes his hair side parted with locks clipped so they don't fall on his face. The scent of the same perfume lingers in the air, the one which he had always claimed as his signature. The frame of his glasses aren't geometric anymore, he goes with pilot nowadays.

And before your mind could trace back on the memory lane deeper, you decide to slip into the momentum.

Because, he's the man, who had broken your heart, had left you alone to pick up the pieces on your own.

“Mr. Jeon”, you bow to him, giving a small smile. Your heart beats erratically, as you continue to speak, “You must be busy so I won't take much of your time.”

The title you call him by is foreign to Wonwoo's ear. It always used to be strings of sickly sweet nicknames.

He watches the changes time has brought upon you. You no longer seem like the carefree law major from back then. You, no longer are the girl who'd cry over smallest things, speak the first thought that comes to your mind.

While Wonwoo loses touch with the current predicament, you line up several documents on his desk in specific order.

It's exacting because you used to know him so well, maybe even now if he hasn't emerged entirely as a different person. You see the way his eyes are on you but the dilated pupils give away the fact that he's running miles in his head.

So you wait, wait for him to come back to the present, to this moment.

And he does, a few minutes later. You can tell it by the way his gaze locks into yours right away, his lips curling down in slightest.

“How have you been, Y/N?”

His voice strikes a chord in your heart, before it reaches your ear. The voice that you used to love so much, the voice that sung you to sleep on restless nights, the same voice which called when your name, it summoned your soul.

Years of preparation goes down in the trench as you're about to break down at the first set of words you hear from him.

But you can't, you're not the same vulnerable Y/N, who used to strip bare in front of her lover.

“I think we have more important matters to discuss, Mr. Jeon.”, you speak through your gritted teeth.

“But you promised you'd answer all my questions.”, Wonwoo reminds you calmly.

“And this is what you want to know?”

“Out of all things, first and foremost, yes this is what I want to know.”

You find it ironic. Trapped in by his words, you answer truthfully, “I just can't sum up everything but I have been holding it in, thanks to Wonjae.”

Wonwoo perks at the mention of your son's name, well his as well.

“The first document is about me as Wonjae’s legal guardian, consenting to you conduct a DNA test.”, your gaze is gentle as you point at the bunched papers, “I don't want any questions, any fingers raised at my son in future.”

“But I don't–”

“I request you to conduct one.”

Your sharp tone shuts up Wonwoo completely, though not willing, he nods.

His gaze sweeps across the rest of the document which promotes him to ask, “What are the rest of these documents for?”

Your eyes turn somber. You've studied law, practised it. You know all the nooks and crannies and you're a mother who is raising her son against all odds.

“The second document is a contract that states that if you don't want to be associated with Wonjae then the fact that he’s your son will be concealed and never brought up by me. If I ever do so”, you turn the pages and show him the space left blank, “You can fill up the breach statement and penalties in this section, I have left it blank.”

Wonwoo gapes at you in disbelief, “What do you think you're trying to pull here?”, he speaks in a low tone but you can hear the agitation ringing in it, “What do you think of me, Y/N?”

You don't deem it necessary to answer his questions and proceed further to explain the contents of the last document.

“If you have any concerns about me working in your company and see me as a threat or identify me as someone who has the potential of stirring up trouble then you can ask me to resign but under the conditions that I work here until I find another job.”, your attitude has shimmered down from being hyper to nonchalant, now that you have done your part.

Wonwoo observes you in disbelief and at himself in distaste because he's the reason behind the version you are currently showcasing.

“Also, I have prepared the clauses for custody just in case you're willing to share responsibilities in future. I'll bring it to you if you decide to be a part of Wonjae's life.”

You say terms, speak things all in legal language and Wonwoo just listens.

“I would have suggested you to run these documents by your legal team to cite any negotiations or catch any flaws but unfortunately, it would mean that I'd be the person you'll need to work with.”, you smile sardonically, “So it would be better if you contact someone who's not affiliated to this company.”

He wonders if things would have been different if he stayed and in the midst of the storm that whirlwinds in his head, he asks, “Why didn't you tell me that you were pregnant?”

What a simple question to ask. But are all questions meant to have an answer?

“Would you have stayed?”

Silence falls upon.

You give him a knowing smile, “Just when you were leaving, I asked you something, do you remember?”

Yes, he remembers, all of it. The way you had chased him to the station, your face wet, eyes bloodshot from crying. The way you just stood in front of him, mumbling the last question you had as the train entered the platform.

“What if I have something important to tell you, something that could change our lives? Would it make you stay?”

“There’s nothing left to salvage. Nothing's gonna stop me from leaving. This is the end for us.”

It answers his previous question. It makes sense now, he didn't only leave you, he had abandoned his unborn child as well.

Some fences cannot be mended, some bridges can't be cemented. Just like this relationship, which once bloomed beautifully, is now wilted.

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