#email overload

[jimxugle]

Here's how you do this:

Look at the top unread email in your inbox. Just the top one.

Then search for emails like that one

Then select all, and mark them as read.

Boom. You just handled 48 emails at once.

This is a perfect opportunity to click into one of those emails and unsubscribe from that mailing list; Or set up a filter to automatically move emails like those (Receipts from Walgreens) to an appropriate folder (Receipts), and mark them as read.

Do that over and over. Before you know it, you've handled 200 emails, then 500, then 1000. Break it into multiple sessions. Do it when you're on hold. Do it while on a work call. Do it when you wanna feel productive but you're tired.

If you’ve tried to reach out to me in the last 7-8 years and I didn’t get back to you I’m medicated now and I’ll be reaching out to you shortly

[angelicanvas]

fucking losers. imagine NOT having kangel in your contacts.

[tilbageidanmark]

(I don't have a cell phone, and on my iPad I get zero notifications..)

[honestkindlereviews]

Gemini AI Time Hacks

Gemini AI Time Hacks: Automate Tasks, Prioritize Goals, and Reclaim 10+ Hours Weekly

Let's be honest. In today's hyper-connected, always-on world, time feels like our most precious and scarce resource. We juggle emails, meetings, projects, personal commitments, and the relentless stream of information, often feeling like we're drowning in a sea of tasks. The promise of productivity tools has been around for years, offering calendars, to-do lists, and project managers. And while they help, they often feel like bandaids on a deeper wound – the fundamental challenge of managing not just tasks, but our attention and energy in a way that aligns with our true goals.

The Intelligent Investor’s Mind: AI-Powered Psychology for Wealth, Wisdom, and Well-being: A Modern Approach to Financial Success Through Self-Awareness and AI: BUY EBOOK CLICK HARE

I’ve spent decades studying productivity, testing systems, and coaching individuals and teams on optimizing their workflows. I’ve seen the evolution from paper planners to complex software suites. But nothing, absolutely nothing, has felt as transformative as the advent of sophisticated AI models like Gemini. We're not just talking about another tool; we're talking about a potential paradigm shift in how we interact with our work and our lives. The idea of reclaiming 10, 15, even 20 hours a week might sound like hyperbole, but I'm seeing it become a reality for those who learn to truly partner with AI.

Think of your current workflow. How much time do you spend on repetitive tasks? Scheduling emails, drafting standard responses, summarizing documents, transcribing notes, organizing files, researching basic information, creating first drafts of content? These are the necessary gears of our professional lives, but they often consume hours that could be spent on higher-level thinking, creative problem-solving, strategic planning, or simply, well, living. These are the hours AI is poised to give back to you.

I remember a time, not so long ago, when preparing for a significant client meeting involved hours of manual work. I'd sift through past correspondence, pull up relevant reports, summarize key points, research the client's recent activities, and then try to synthesize it all into concise briefing notes. It was tedious, but essential. Now? I can feed Gemini access to relevant documents and email threads, ask it to summarize the client's history with us, highlight key discussion points for the upcoming meeting, and even draft a personalized opening based on recent news about their company – all in minutes. The difference isn't just speed; it's the ability to arrive at that meeting feeling truly prepared, having spent my valuable time on thinking about the strategy, not just compiling the background.

This is the core promise of AI-powered time hacks: offloading the cognitive burden of routine tasks to free up human capacity for what we do best.

Automate Tasks: Putting Your Workflow on Autopilot

The most immediate and tangible benefit of integrating Gemini into your workflow is automation. Not the complex, code-heavy automation of the past, but natural language-driven automation that feels less like programming and more like delegation.

Let's break down how this works across common areas:

Email Management: Taming the Inbox Beast

The inbox is a notorious time sink. We spend hours reading, sorting, responding, and searching. Gemini can become your email co-pilot.

The Intelligent Investor’s Mind: AI-Powered Psychology for Wealth, Wisdom, and Well-being: A Modern Approach to Financial Success Through Self-Awareness and AI: BUY EBOOK CLICK HARE

Drafting Responses: For routine inquiries, standard updates, or even initial outreach, Gemini can draft emails based on a few key points you provide. You can refine it, inject your personal tone, but the heavy lifting of structuring sentences and finding the right words is done instantly. Imagine needing to decline a meeting request politely, provide a project update, or send a follow-up email. Instead of staring at a blank screen, you give Gemini the context and the core message, and it provides a ready-to-send draft. This isn't just about speed; it reduces decision fatigue associated with crafting countless messages daily.

Summarizing Threads: Ever open a long email thread and groan? Feed it to Gemini and ask for a concise summary of the key decisions, action items, and participants. Instantly, you grasp the essence without wading through every single reply. This is invaluable for catching up after time off or quickly getting context on an ongoing discussion.

Scheduling and Coordination: While dedicated scheduling tools exist, Gemini can assist in the natural language back-and-forth of finding a time. You can ask it to suggest meeting times based on your calendar availability (with appropriate privacy controls, of course) or even draft emails proposing options to others.

Filtering and Prioritizing: While email clients have rules, AI can potentially understand the intent and urgency of emails more effectively. Imagine an AI that learns which senders, keywords, and types of requests are genuinely high priority for you, helping you focus on what matters most when you open your inbox.

This isn't about achieving "inbox zero" for the sake of it; it's about reducing the time spent in the inbox, freeing you to focus on tasks that require your unique human intelligence.

Document Handling: From Clutter to Clarity

We work with documents constantly – reports, articles, contracts, research papers. Managing, understanding, and extracting information from them is a significant time investment.

Summarization: The ability to instantly summarize lengthy documents is a game-changer. Need to get the gist of a 50-page report before a meeting? Feed it to Gemini. Want to quickly understand the key arguments of an article? Ask for a summary. This saves hours of reading time while ensuring you grasp the core information.

Information Extraction: Need to pull out specific data points, dates, names, or figures from a document? Instead of scanning page by page, ask Gemini to extract them for you. This is particularly useful for research, data compilation, or reviewing contracts.

Drafting and Outlining: Starting a new document from scratch can be daunting. Gemini can help generate outlines, draft initial sections, or even create different versions of content based on different tones or target audiences. This overcomes the inertia of starting and provides a solid foundation to build upon.

Translation and Simplification: Working with documents in different languages or needing to explain complex topics simply? Gemini can provide quick translations or simplify jargon-filled text, making information more accessible and saving time on manual interpretation or explanation.

By automating these document-related tasks, you transform your interaction with information from passive consumption and manual processing to active engagement with synthesized insights.

Data Management and Analysis: Turning Numbers into Narratives

While complex data analysis often requires specialized tools, Gemini can significantly expedite the initial stages and help in understanding the results.

Data Cleaning and Formatting: For simple datasets, Gemini can assist with formatting, identifying inconsistencies, or even generating basic code snippets (like Python) to perform cleaning tasks.

Generating Summaries and Insights: Provide Gemini with a dataset (within privacy and security limits, of course) and ask for a summary of key trends, outliers, or correlations. It can help you quickly identify interesting patterns that warrant further investigation.

Creating Visualizations (with support): While Gemini itself might not create charts, it can generate the code or instructions needed for charting libraries based on your data, saving you the time of looking up syntax or figuring out the right chart type.

Explaining Complex Data: If you're looking at a complex report or spreadsheet, you can ask Gemini to explain specific metrics, formulas, or the meaning of certain data points in plain language.

This level of assistance turns data interaction from a chore into a more intuitive exploration, allowing you to get to the insights faster.

Prioritize Goals: Focusing on What Truly Matters

Automation is powerful, but without clear prioritization, you just become more efficient at doing the wrong things. This is where AI's ability to understand context and goals becomes crucial.

The Intelligent Investor’s Mind: AI-Powered Psychology for Wealth, Wisdom, and Well-being: A Modern Approach to Financial Success Through Self-Awareness and AI: BUY EBOOK CLICK HARE

AI-Assisted Goal Alignment

Breaking Down Large Goals: Have a big, daunting goal? Share it with Gemini and ask for a breakdown into smaller, actionable steps. It can help you create a project plan, identify potential roadblocks, and suggest a logical sequence of tasks.

Identifying High-Leverage Activities: Based on your stated goals and the tasks on your plate, Gemini can help you identify which activities are most likely to move the needle. You can ask, "Given my goal to [achieve X], which of these tasks [list tasks] should I focus on first?" AI can analyze the potential impact and dependencies, offering a more objective perspective than your potentially overwhelmed brain.

Connecting Tasks to Objectives: We often have long to-do lists without a clear sense of why we're doing each item. You can use Gemini to help connect daily tasks back to larger projects or long-term goals, providing a sense of purpose and helping you prioritize based on strategic importance rather than just urgency. "Remind me how completing [Task A] contributes to [Project B] and my overall goal of [Goal C]."

Dynamic Task Management

Intelligent Task Scheduling: Beyond simple calendar blocking, AI can potentially learn your energy levels, your focus patterns, and the typical duration of certain tasks. It could then suggest optimal times to work on specific types of tasks, scheduling your deep work for your peak focus hours and routine tasks for when your energy is lower. "Based on my past performance, you seem to be most focused between 9 AM and 11 AM. Would you like to schedule [high-focus task] during that time?"

Adaptive Prioritization: Priorities change. New urgent requests come in, deadlines shift. Instead of manually reshuffling your entire task list, you can inform Gemini of the change, and it can help you dynamically re-prioritize your remaining tasks based on the new information and your overarching goals.

Identifying Bottlenecks: By analyzing your workflow and task dependencies, AI can help you identify potential bottlenecks before they become major problems. "I notice you've been stuck on [Task X] for several days, and it's blocking progress on [Task Y] and [Task Z]. Let's explore why and how to move forward."

This isn't about AI dictating your priorities, but about providing an intelligent framework and objective analysis to help you make better, more informed decisions about how you spend your time. It’s like having a strategic advisor constantly reviewing your workload against your objectives.

Reclaim 10+ Hours Weekly: The Cumulative Impact

So, how does all this automation and prioritization translate into reclaiming significant chunks of your week? It's the cumulative effect of saving minutes here and there across dozens of daily activities.

Think about the time spent:

Opening and processing non-essential emails.

Searching for information scattered across different documents or platforms.

Drafting and revising routine communications.

Getting started on a new task because you lack a clear outline or first draft.

Feeling overwhelmed by a long to-do list and not knowing where to start.

Switching between tasks inefficiently.

Attending meetings that lack clear objectives or summaries.

Each of these might only take a few minutes, but multiplied across a day, a week, a month, they add up to hours – hours that are often spent in low-leverage activities that drain your energy without moving you closer to your most important goals.

By using Gemini to:

Automate drafting and summarizing: You save time on writing and reading.

Extract key information: You save time on searching and synthesizing.

Break down and prioritize tasks: You save time on planning and decision-making inertia.

Get help with initial drafts: You save time on overcoming the blank page.

Identify high-leverage activities: You ensure the time you do spend is on what matters most.

The impact is exponential. Saving 15 minutes on email processing, 30 minutes on document review, 20 minutes on drafting a proposal outline, and 10 minutes on prioritizing your morning tasks might seem small individually. But repeated daily, across a range of activities, these small increments quickly accumulate.

The Intelligent Investor’s Mind: AI-Powered Psychology for Wealth, Wisdom, and Well-being: A Modern Approach to Financial Success Through Self-Awareness and AI: BUY EBOOK CLICK HARE

I've seen clients, initially skeptical, start by using Gemini for simple tasks like summarizing articles. Then they move to drafting emails. Then to breaking down project plans. As they get comfortable and see the time savings, they start looking for more opportunities to delegate routine cognitive work to the AI. The 10+ hour figure isn't pulled from thin air; it's a realistic outcome when you systematically apply AI to the repetitive, low-value tasks that currently consume your week.

Beyond Efficiency: The Impact on Well-being

Reclaiming time isn't just about being more productive; it's about creating space for well-being. Those reclaimed hours can be reinvested in ways that truly enrich your life:

Deep Work: Spending uninterrupted time on complex problems that require your full cognitive capacity.

Learning and Development: Acquiring new skills, reading, or exploring new ideas.

Creativity and Innovation: Engaging in activities that spark new ideas and solutions.

Strategic Thinking: Stepping back to see the big picture and plan for the future.

Relationships: Spending quality time with family, friends, and colleagues.

Rest and Recharge: Prioritizing sleep, exercise, and hobbies to prevent burnout.

When you're not constantly battling the clock and feeling overwhelmed by a never-ending task list, you have the mental and emotional capacity to focus on what truly brings you value and joy, both professionally and personally. This is the ultimate time hack – using AI to create a more sustainable, fulfilling way of working and living.

Getting Started with Gemini Time Hacks

Adopting AI into your workflow doesn't require a complete overhaul overnight. It's a process of experimentation and integration.

Identify Time Sinks: Start by tracking where your time actually goes for a few days. Be honest. Are there recurring tasks that feel tedious or time-consuming? These are prime candidates for AI assistance.

Experiment with One Task: Pick one specific task you'd like to automate or streamline using Gemini. Maybe it's drafting initial emails, summarizing meeting notes, or breaking down a small project.

Learn the Prompts: Get comfortable with how to phrase requests to Gemini to get the best results. Experiment with different wording and levels of detail. Think of it as learning to delegate effectively to a very capable, but literal, assistant.

Integrate Gradually: As you find success with one task, look for other opportunities. How else can Gemini help you with document handling, data analysis, or planning?

Establish Boundaries and Review: Remember that AI is a tool. You are in control. Review the output, refine it, and ensure it aligns with your standards and privacy requirements. Regularly assess how the AI is impacting your workflow and adjust your approach as needed.

This journey is less about finding a magic button and more about developing a new partnership. It's about understanding AI's strengths – its ability to process information rapidly, identify patterns, and generate text – and leveraging those strengths to complement your own.

The future of productivity isn't about working harder; it's about working smarter, and AI is the most powerful lever we've had in decades to achieve that. By embracing Gemini AI time hacks, you're not just optimizing your workflow; you're investing in your capacity for higher-level work, strategic thinking, and ultimately, a more balanced and fulfilling life. The hours are there, waiting to be reclaimed. The intelligent use of AI is your key.

The Intelligent Investor’s Mind: AI-Powered Psychology for Wealth, Wisdom, and Well-being: A Modern Approach to Financial Success Through Self-Awareness and AI: BUY EBOOK CLICK HARE

[natecoumbe31]

Too much administrative overhead and disruptive communication are preventing us from being our best at work.

[witchestower]

Oh, lmao, this is probably why when the therapist pulled out the feelings wheel, the only ones I could positively identify as a discrete feeling that I remembered having were the ones under "scared"

A commonly overlooked symptom of depression is anhedonia, the inability to feel joy or pleasure. The reason that it’s easy to overlook is that it’s easier to miss the absence of something that’s not around all the time than it is to miss a symptom that causes active distress, such as feeling tired and miserable all the time.

Anhedonia is good at being a persistent undercurrent to your life. My aunt, who has major depressive disorder, related to me that she figured out that something was wrong when she looked at the daffodils she had planted blooming, and couldn’t recognize the emotion that she felt when she looked at them. It had been long enough since she had felt happy that she lost the ability to recognize the emotion.

It’s a particularly dangerous depressive symptom, because it robs you of the ability to feel those little spots of joy that keep a lot of people going, while not doing anything to impair your ability to function. If you don’t know that this is a treatable symptom of depression, it’s easy to assume that your ability to feel good is permanently broken, and decide to commit suicide because you don’t want to live like that. It’s not an irrational conclusion, but it is an uninformed one, and everyone deserves to have all the information when making a major decision.

This is what a lot of questionnaires are trying to look for when they ask about “loss of enjoyment”. If you can’t remember a loss of enjoyment because you can’t remember enjoyment, then you probably have anhedonia. If you struggle to define how it is to feel “happy”, “content”, or “good”, or how it feels when you feel those emotions, you probably have anhedonia. If you can’t remember feeling any of those emotions for a week or more, you probably have anhedonia.

Symptoms commonly co-occurring with anhedonia are fatigue (often the cause), clear and thoughtful consideration of suicide, loss of desire to socialize or do activities that used to make you happy, and weight loss (due to lack of enjoyment of food).

This section is anecdotal. In what I have observed, anhedonia due to fatigue rarely responds well to depression treatment unless depression was causing the fatigue. If fatigue and anhedonia are co-occurring and are not both alleviated by depression treatment, consider other causes for the fatigue.

[ame-to-ame]

Channelling my inner Hiroko tendencies

[itendtothinkalot]

in this economy? (part 1)

summary: you needed money. he needed a fake girlfriend. easy deal, right? except he’s your best friend’s boss. and you’re one minor inconvenience away from setting something on fire. he’s cold, rich, emotionally unavailable. you’re loud, broke, and very good at pretending this isn’t slowly turning real.

genre: fluff | fake dating

characters: ceo!heeseung x f! broke ass reader

words: 12k?

warnings: none in this part

a/n: damn didnt know tumblr had a word limit so heres a 2 parter i didnt realise would be a 2 parter

part 2

You were in your final year of college, living what could only be described as the off-brand version of Hannah Montana. Two jobs, endless assignments, zero glam. You had the double life down—student by day, overworked part-timer by night—except instead of rocking out on stage, you were rocking a polyester apron and a mild caffeine addiction.

Despite working like a hamster on an espresso wheel, your bank account stayed somewhere between “embarrassing” and “haunted.” Thanks, student loans. They followed you like an ex who couldn’t take a hint—except this one charged interest and occasionally sent you emails that made your eye twitch.

Still, you powered through. Broke, yes. Sleep-deprived, absolutely. But functioning? Debatable.

Fortunately, your best friend Jake—resident golden boy, and somehow always suspiciously well-rested—had just landed a Big Boy Job. He was now the personal assistant to the Lee Heeseung. Which sounded impressive… you guessed. You wished someone had warned you what a big deal this guy was, but no one did. You didn’t know. You really didn’t.

You were three bites deep into your third roll of bread, barely chewing anymore. It wasn’t about manners—it was about survival. Tuition was due, your rent deadline loomed like a jump scare, and your bank account balance looked like a bad joke.

Jake sat across from you at the glossy conference room table, watching you with an expression that landed somewhere between mild horror and disbelief.

“Slow down,” he said, nudging the breadbasket just out of your reach. “The bread’s not running anywhere.”

You glared at him, a crust still stuck to your bottom lip. “Easy for you to say. You’re not living on instant noodles and silent sobbing.”

He wrinkled his nose. “You literally had coffee and a spoonful of peanut butter for breakfast.”

“Because I couldn't afford a second spoonful.”

Flipping through your notes with one hand and clutching a half-eaten roll with the other, you tried to cram half a semester’s worth of marketing strategy into your already overloaded brain. You were multitasking. Efficient. A legend, if legends were broke and hungry.

Jake looked personally offended. “This is a workplace, you know. There are millionaires walking around here. You’re dropping crumbs on a seven-thousand-dollar chair.”

You paused mid-bite. “Seven what now?”

He tossed you a napkin with the kind of disappointment only a best friend could perfect. “Just—try not to look like a starving Dickens orphan if my boss walks in.”

You frowned. “Your boss?”

And that’s when the air changed—like a cold draft had slinked in through invisible cracks. Jake straightened. The playful glint in his eyes flickered out.

Speak of the devil in designer slacks.

The door creaked open, and in walked the heir to Luxen Technologies: Lee Heeseung.

Cold. Polished. Annoyingly symmetrical.

You promptly choked on your bread.

"That's your... boss?" you asked, staring as the man strolled in like he was walking on a Calvin Klein runway in slow motion, his coat flaring just slightly, hair annoyingly perfect.

Sure, he was good-looking. Objectively. Like, if you had a dollar for every sharp angle on his face, you could maybe afford two spoonfuls of peanut butter.

But you didn’t have time for men. You barely had time for yourself.

Here you were, fully dependent on your best friend and roommate’s snack stash and corporate pantry privileges, inhaling free carbs like your life depended on it—which, honestly, it kind of did. This had become your daily routine: roll out of bed, survive uni, raid Jake’s office for bread and maybe some emotional support tea every morning.

Jake sighed, already bracing for impact like someone who'd lived through this exact scenario too many times. “Look, you have to leave before he comes over and kicks you out.”

You snorted, entirely unbothered, and waved him off like he was being dramatic—which, to be fair, he usually was. Reaching for another roll from the meticulously arranged snack spread (which you were absolutely not supposed to touch), you said breezily, “He wouldn’t do that. Right?”

Jake didn't answer immediately. Instead, he gave you the kind of look reserved for people about to learn something the hard way. “He’s kicked people out for less,” he muttered, casting a wary glance at the growing constellation of crumbs you were generously distributing across the sleek, glass conference table—like you were decorating it for a carb-themed holiday.

Your chewing slowed. “Oh,” you said, mid-bite, hand frozen halfway to your mouth.

Silence.

The kind of silence that prickled.

Something shifted in the air, and you felt it—like animals sensing a predator approaching. You turned your head slowly.

And there he was.

Lee Heeseung. In the flesh. A few steps away and looking like he’d just walked into a crime scene. He was tall, sharp, and immaculately put-together, holding a tablet in one hand like it offended him. His eyes scanned the table, then landed on you—the uninvited guest currently mid-chew, hoarding bread rolls like it was your last meal.

If disapproval had a face, his was it.

Your brain, bless its useless soul, screamed: Run.

Your stomach had other plans: Finish the bread first.

And your hands? They casually reached for two more rolls while maintaining steady eye contact with the most terrifyingly attractive man you’d ever seen.

Honestly, if you were going to get kicked out, you might as well be full.

You glanced at Jake. With as much dignity as one could muster while chewing, you gave a dramatic bow, wiping a suspicious smear of butter off your cheek with the back of your sleeve. “Good day, Mr. Sim. I shall see you again tomorrow. Absolutely lovely businessy chat. So productive. Okay. Bye now.”

Jake snorted. Loudly. But you ignored him, choosing instead to hoist your laptop bag like a makeshift shield, holding it in front of your face in an attempt to avoid the burning scrutiny of one Lee Heeseung. Eye contact was the enemy. Recognition was a death sentence. And above all else: pantry access must be preserved.

If he ever put two and two together—that the very person chewing her way through his conference table like a feral carb-goblin was you—you were done for.

Goodbye, free bread. Goodbye, Jake’s fancy office snacks. Goodbye, dignity… not that there was much left to begin with.

You began edging toward the door, sidestepping like a raccoon caught red-pawed in the middle of a kitchen raid, trying not to look suspicious. Which only made you look so much more suspicious. And to make matters worse, the more you tried to vanish, the longer Heeseung stared.

His eyes followed you with a slow, assessing calm—like a predator trying to decide whether the strange creature in his territory was worth the energy to chase. He didn’t say a word. Just watched. Silently. Intensely. Unreadable.

Probably wondering who let the help in.

“Smooth,” Jake muttered behind his hand, clearly enjoying every second of your descent into awkwardness.

“Shut up,” you hissed, tripping slightly over your own bag strap on your way out, a quiet wheeze of panic slipping from your lips.

You didn’t dare look back until the elevator doors had closed behind you, safely sealing you in a metal box where embarrassment couldn’t reach you. Heart pounding. Mouth dry. Still tasting sourdough.

So that was him, you thought. Jake's boss.

And if he ever figured out who you were? You were screwed.

Meanwhile, back in the war zone formerly known as the conference room, Jake turned back around slowly to face his boss.

Heeseung didn’t look up. He was scrolling through his phone like none of that had just happened. “What time’s my meeting again?” he asked casually, thumb gliding across the screen.

“Three,” Jake replied quickly, slipping back into assistant mode with the smoothness of someone who really needed to keep his job. “Then another one at five with the UX development team. They’re presenting the wearable AI prototype.”

Heeseung gave a brief nod, still scrolling.

There was a beat of silence. Jake almost allowed himself to exhale.

And then—“Who was the girl?”

Jake blinked. “Girl?”

Now Heeseung did look up. One perfectly shaped eyebrow lifted just a fraction. “The one eating the bread like it owed her money.”

Jake choked. “She's just...she's my friend.”

Heeseung narrowed his eyes, the phrase clearly not satisfying. “Your friend. In my conference room. During working hours. Helping herself to my carbs.”

“To be fair,” Jake offered, voice cracking like a freshman in choir, “they’re technically Luxen’s carbs. Also, you don’t even eat the bread—”

“She wiped her mouth with her sleeve,” Heeseung said, looking deeply betrayed. “Do people do that?”

Jake had no idea if he was supposed to laugh, apologize, or call security on your behalf.

“She’s harmless,” he said quickly. “You won’t even see her again. I think."

Heeseung hummed, a noncommittal sound that somehow said everything. His gaze drifted back to his phone.

But Jake caught it.

A flicker at the corner of Heeseung’s mouth—so quick it almost didn’t happen.

Not irritation. Not disapproval.

Curiosity.

Almost.

—

Heeseung sighed.

It wasn’t that he hated his life. Far from it, actually.

He liked working. Loved it, even. There was something deeply satisfying about losing himself in spreadsheets, contracts, and a calendar so tightly packed it could give a scheduler heartburn. He was good at it—no, great at it. The kind of great that turned heads in boardrooms. The kind of great that earned nods of respect from executives twice his age. Even his notoriously competitive older brother and stone-faced father begrudgingly acknowledged his brilliance when it came to the company.

They weren’t jealous of his success—not exactly. Just… quietly resentful that their grandfather, the patriarch of the empire, seemed to have written Lee Heeseung in bold letters at the top of every metaphorical will, wish list, and family legacy blueprint. Heeseung was the golden boy. The prodigy. The one who could do no wrong.

Well—except in matters of the heart.

His grandfather, a man of steel nerves and silk pocket squares, had one tragic flaw: he was a hopeless romantic. The handwritten-letters, crying-during-Hallmark-movies, “Love conquers all” kind. Back in his youth, he had famously eloped with Heeseung’s grandmother after her parents forbade the match. It was the tale he recited at every family dinner like a dramatic bedtime story, wine glass in hand, pausing for emphasis with misty eyes and unnecessary violin music playing in everyone’s heads.

Now, he’d made it his personal mission to marry off every last descendant like he was casting a period drama.

And naturally, he took particular offense to Heeseung—the youngest, most accomplished, and most emotionally unavailable—refusing to so much as glance at romance. Not a flicker. Not a whisper. Not even the vague interest of someone who knew love existed in the same universe.

So imagine Heeseung’s horror when, despite all logic, he found himself distracted. Haunted, even. By the mental image of some girl with a mouthful of carbs, an unapologetic sleeve-wipe, and crumbs on her cheek like a personal brand.

Utterly ridiculous.

Infuriating, even.

There were precisely three things Lee Heeseung could not abide during work hours:

Unexpected visitors.

Long-winded conversations.

Family.

So, naturally, all three arrived in one dramatic flourish when the office doors slammed open with the subtlety of a wrecking ball wearing designer shoes.

“Seung!”

Heeseung didn’t glance up. He didn’t need to. That voice had the energy of a Broadway debut and the volume to match.

“Why is he here?” Heeseung asked flatly.

Jake froze mid-sip of his iced Americano, nearly choking on the absurdity of being blamed for something he had very clearly tried to prevent. “I told him not to—he didn’t even call—”

Heeseung finally looked up, just in time to watch the hurricane make landfall.

Grandpa Lee swept into the room like he still ran the place, all charisma and cologne, his cane purely decorative and his expression full of self-satisfaction. Former CEO. Founder of Luxen Technologies. Current full-time menace to his grandson’s blood pressure.

“Grandpa,” Heeseung said through clenched teeth, voice just shy of a groan. “You can’t keep barging in here every time you have a thought.”

“Of course I can,” the old man said cheerfully, already heading for the plush chair across from Heeseung’s desk. “It’s my building. My company. My bloodline. And also, you left Sunday dinner early, again, so I brought the discussion to you.”

Jake slowly sank into his seat, doing a decent impression of a man attempting to fuse with office furniture. He opened his laptop, not to work, but to pretend like he was somewhere—anywhere—else.

Across the room, Heeseung dragged a hand down his face, the weariness in his expression not from deadlines or meetings but from the familial storm that had just rolled in, all bluster and dramatic flair.

It wasn’t that Heeseung didn’t love his grandfather. He did. Deeply. He’d grown up listening to Grandpa Lee’s stories—some romantic, some insane, all borderline exaggerated. He loved the old man’s fire, his flair for theatrics, his unwavering belief in love.

But the thing was, Heeseung didn’t believe in love. At least not for himself.

Love happened, sure. It was cute in theory. Like puppies. Or those couples who held hands in grocery store aisles. But for Heeseung? The concept belonged in other people’s lives. He had things to build. A company to run. An empire to uphold. There wasn’t room in his carefully scheduled, emotionally vacuum-sealed world for candlelit dinners and grand declarations.

“Seung,” Grandpa Lee began, already digging into the contacts on his ancient phone like he was summoning a spell. “One of the kids—from—uh—SunTech, I think. His granddaughter—”

“Not interested,” Heeseung groaned, dragging his chair out and dropping into it like a man preparing for battle. He turned on his computer and focused all his energy on his Google Calendar, as if the overlapping blocks of color could protect him from whatever matchmaking scheme was brewing.

“She’s your age,” Grandpa insisted, swiping through what looked like a very poorly lit photo. “Exceptionally bright. Lovely eyes. Probably fertile—”

“I don’t care,” Heeseung said, without even blinking.

Grandpa Lee scoffed so hard, Jake briefly checked the air conditioning to make sure it wasn’t just the vents.

“Jake, my boy,” the old man thundered, turning to Jake with the dramatic flourish of a stage actor mid-soliloquy, “you best prepare an umbrella for tonight. The ancestors are going to cry from how rude my grandson is.”

Jake coughed behind his hand, clearly losing the battle not to laugh.

“Rude?” Heeseung repeated, eyes still fixed on his screen. “Didn’t you run away from your family to marry Grandma?”

“She was the love of my life,” Grandpa snapped, puffing out his chest like he was about to monologue about moonlight and destiny. Again.

“And didn’t you yell something along the lines of—what was it?” Heeseung pretended to think for a beat, then smirked. “Oh right. ‘Kiss my ass.’”

Grandpa Lee’s face wrinkled into an affronted frown. “You little—!”

He stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor, cane in one hand like he was about to duel.

Jake peeked up from behind his laptop, eyes wide, mildly alarmed.

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, looking irritatingly calm. “Just saying, if rebellion for love was good enough for you, maybe rebellion against love is good enough for me.”

“You’re twisting my legacy, you arrogant little–” Grandpa snapped.

Heeseung let out a long-suffering sigh. “I love you, Grandpa,” he said, not without sincerity, “I really do. But I don’t think—”

Whack.

The cane came down with expert precision, connecting with the top of Heeseung’s head before he could finish the sentence.

“Ow—! What the hell?! Grandpa!” Heeseung hissed in pain, one hand flying up to his hair as he recoiled in disbelief.

“That,” Grandpa Lee said, lowering his cane with the pride of a seasoned warrior, “was for being stupid. I may be old, but I’m not senile.”

Jake, valiantly trying to remain neutral, let out a sound that could only be described as a muffled snort, quickly masked behind his coffee cup. He was, unfortunately, enjoying this far more than his employee handbook allowed.

“You assaulted me,” Heeseung muttered, rubbing his scalp and glaring at the very man who used to tuck him in with bedtime stories about elopements and destiny.

“That wasn’t assault,” Grandpa countered, straightening his lapels. “That was discipline. You’re welcome.”

“You could’ve said something.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Jake quietly slid a packet of ice from the mini fridge toward Heeseung’s desk like a peace offering. Heeseung took it with a scowl, pressing it to his head as Grandpa settled back into the chair he had so dramatically abandoned.

“I’m not saying fall in love today,” Grandpa continued, voice a touch gentler now. “But open your eyes. One day, someone is going to walk into your life—and she won’t give a damn about your meetings or your title or your five-year plan. She’ll probably be a disaster. A whirlwind. And exactly what you need.”

Heeseung stared at him, unimpressed. “You’ve been watching those stupid dramas again, haven’t you?”

“I like them,” Grandpa sniffed, unbothered. “They speak to the soul. And unlike you, they have range. Emotional range."

Jake lost the battle with his laughter, letting it escape in a quiet wheeze.

Heeseung gave him a sharp look. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Not at all,” Jake said, already typing something into his notes app with far too much amusement. “Should I call Legal and ask about emotional damages from relatives?”

“Call a therapist while you’re at it,” Heeseung muttered.

Grandpa Lee stood again, “I’m not cancelling the date with SunTech’s granddaughter,” he announced, as if this declaration were final, written in stone, sealed by the ancestors themselves.

Heeseung groaned, already feeling the migraine bloom behind his eyes. “Grandpa. Cancel it. I’m not sitting around awkwardly sipping tea with some random girl—”

“Not random. SunTech’s granddaughter,” Grandpa corrected, his tone haughty, as though the corporate pedigree alone should be enough to send Heeseung into a frenzy of romantic interest.

“You don’t even know her name.”

“It’s something to do with the sun,” Grandpa said, waving a dismissive hand. “Sunny? Sunrise? Sunhwa? Something celestial. The details aren’t important.”

“Oh, I think they are,” Heeseung deadpanned.

“Seung.” His grandfather’s voice softened with a rare touch of sincerity. “Please. Just one date. One.”

Heeseung hesitated. Not because he was considering it, but because he was trying—desperately—to find a way out that didn’t involve disappointing the man who once taught him how to drive and also how to spot a bad merger.

“I can’t,” he said finally.

“And why not?”

Heeseung opened his mouth, then closed it. Thought. Thought harder. Came up with absolutely nothing. His brain was a clean whiteboard where excuses usually lived, but today, apparently, they’d taken the morning off.

He glanced at Jake. Still in his chair. Still sipping his iced Americano. Still laughing silently behind his laptop like this was a free improv show with catered snacks.

“Because…?” Grandpa prompted, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Jake?” Heeseung said, turning toward his assistant like a man clinging to the edge of a lifeboat.

Jake blinked. The sip of coffee in his mouth stalled somewhere in his throat.

Oh, no. Oh, no no no.

Heeseung’s eyes screamed Help me. Jake’s brain screamed Why do I work here. But somewhere between panic and pity, an idea emerged—terrible, reckless, and unquestionably effective.

Jake cleared his throat. “Because,” he said slowly, “Mr. Lee already… has a girlfriend.”

The room went still.

Utterly, impossibly still.

Heeseung blinked once. “I what.”

Grandpa Lee's gaze sharpened like a hawk spotting prey. “You what?”

Jake could feel the weight of both their stares, but he pressed on, fully embracing the reckless commitment of a man now in far too deep.

“Yes,” he nodded, his voice unnaturally bright. “He has a girlfriend. Very real. Extremely non-fictional. You just haven’t met her yet.”

Heeseung turned to him slowly, his face a portrait of stunned betrayal. “Jake.”

Jake gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Go with it.”

Grandpa folded his arms, skeptical. “And why haven’t I met this girlfriend?”

Jake hesitated for only half a second—just long enough for his brain to spin a web of half-truths and whole lies. “Well, it’s still new. They only started seeing each other last month. And Heeseung’s, you know…” He looked at his boss meaningfully. “Shy.”

Heeseung let out a sound that could only be described as internal screaming.

“Shy?” Grandpa repeated, eyebrows raised like the concept was foreign.

Jake nodded solemnly. “Very reserved when it comes to feelings. Doesn’t like to share until he’s sure. That’s why he hasn’t said anything. It’s still early, and he’s trying not to mess it up.”

For a moment, Grandpa said nothing.

Just stood there, his sharp eyes narrowing, gears visibly turning behind them like he was piecing together a very juicy puzzle.

Then—“It’s that… Bread Girl, isn’t it?”

Heeseung blinked. “Bread girl?”

The name rang a bell. Faintly. Something Grandpa had muttered earlier about a chaotic woman who’d been assaulting his company’s carb inventory with reckless abandon. Right. Jake’s friend. The one who'd been in his conference room. The one who chewed like it was a competitive sport and wiped her mouth on her sleeve.

Jake’s eyes widened in alarm. “You… you saw her?”

“She knocked into me on her way out of the conference room just now,” Grandpa said, nostrils flaring like he was reliving the moment. “Nearly knocked my cane out of my hand. I was ready to launch into a full lecture on manners and public decency—until I saw the amount of bread she had crammed in her arms.”

He smiled, clearly delighted. “That’s when I knew. She wasn’t being rude. She was just in love. Hungry and in love. My favorite combination.” And without further warning, he pulled Heeseung into a firm, proud hug. “Keeping my granddaughter-in-law well-fed. That’s my boy.”

Heeseung stood there like a mannequin in a hostage scenario, arms limp at his sides, staring over Grandpa’s shoulder with wide, blinking disbelief. His gaze locked on Jake, who looked dangerously close to either exploding with laughter or faking his own death.

Was he going to throw his best friend under the bus?

Apparently, yes.

“Yep,” Jake said with a helpless shrug. “That’s her.”

Heeseung opened his mouth to protest—but then paused. The wheels in his brain, previously stuck in panic mode, began to turn. Slowly, reluctantly, but undeniably. There was an idea forming. A stupid, dangerous, possibly reputation-ruining idea.

But it might just work.

“She’s… shy,” Jake added, already spinning the web a little further, clearly hoping Heeseung would not kill him in his sleep later. “Which is why she hasn’t been introduced yet. It’s still… new.”

Grandpa pulled back just enough to give Heeseung a squint of suspicion. “New?”

Heeseung hesitated.

And then, with the kind of sigh one gives right before jumping off a metaphorical cliff, he nodded. “Yeah. We, uh… only started seeing each other last month.”

“She’s still adjusting,” Heeseung continued, falling into the role with the grim acceptance of a man who’d rather fake a relationship than go on another one of Grandpa’s curated matchmaking setups. “Not really used to… all this.”

“All this?” Grandpa gestured around the office.

“The… CEO thing,” Heeseung said, waving vaguely. “The attention. The—uh—pressure. You know how it is.”

Grandpa narrowed his eyes further, scrutinizing his grandson with the intensity of a man deciding whether to believe a magician or demand to see what’s up his sleeve.

Finally, after a beat of silence: “So you’re saying the girl who wiped her face with her sleeve in your conference room... is your girlfriend.”

Heeseung nodded once. “Yes?"

Grandpa considered. Then smiled. “Well, damn. That explains the crumbs.”

Heeseung exhaled slowly, like he’d just avoided death by PowerPoint. “So you’ll cancel the SunTech date now?”

Grandpa chuckled, already heading toward the door. “Of course, of course. I would never interfere in true love. But now that I know she’s real…” He paused dramatically at the door. “I expect to meet her properly next week. Bring her to dinner. No excuses. And tell her to bring an appetite. There will be baguettes.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

Silence.

Then Jake leaned forward, voice dry and just the right amount of judgmental. “You do realize what you just did, right?”

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, groaning as he pinched the bridge of his nose like he could physically squeeze the consequences out of existence. “Jake… I’m gonna need your friend’s phone number.”

Jake stared at him. Blinking. Processing.

“She’s going to kill me,” he muttered.

—-

You were halfway up the street, your backpack tugging at your shoulder and your feet dragging after a long day, when someone came jogging toward you from the bus stop.

“Hey! Hey hey—!” Jake’s voice rang out, breathless but chipper, his hand waving like he was flagging down a taxi.

You squinted at him. “Why are you running like I owe you money?”

He didn’t bother answering. Just grinned—way too wide, way too bright—and looped his arm through yours, tugging you along.

“I brought you dinner,” he announced, tone suspiciously light.

You stopped walking, brows pinched. “What?”

Jake held up a plastic bag in front of your face with exaggerated pride. The aroma hit you first, warm and familiar. You peeked inside.

Your eyes widened. “Is this—Sue’s? As in the good roast chicken?”

“With the chili oil packets,” Jake said smugly, clearly pleased with himself.

“You went all the way across town?” you asked, mouth falling open as you cradled the bag like it was gold.

He nodded, almost bouncing. “And there’s more.”

You narrowed your eyes. “More?”

“I ordered your bubble tea too. It should be here any minute.”

You gasped, hand flying to your chest. “Taro oat milk with brown sugar pearls?”

Jake mimicked a solemn oath, placing a hand over his heart. “Taro oat milk. Brown sugar pearls. No ice. Less sweet. Just how you like it.”

Your face lit up immediately. “You’re my favorite person. EVER!”

“I know,” he said, leaning into you with an overly sweet smile. “Just remember...that I love you. I love you. Deeply. Eternally. Unconditionally.”

You snorted, nudging him away with your elbow. “Okay, drama queen.”

But then he paused. His voice dipped just slightly, soft but steady. “I’m serious. I love you.”

You froze for a second.

Your smile faltered.

There was something off in his tone—too sincere, too heavy for a roast chicken and bubble tea run. You turned to look at him properly.

“Jake,” you said carefully.

He straightened, schooling his face into something resembling innocence. “Yeah?”

Your eyes narrowed. “What did you do?”

Jake blinked, feigning confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You only say ‘I love you’ like that when something’s wrong. It’s your guilty voice. So what is it? Did you clog the sink again? Spill something on the couch? Sign me up for something I didn’t agree to?”

His laugh came out high-pitched and thin. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Jake.”

“It’s not bad,” he said quickly, holding up both hands.

“Oh my God,” you groaned. “What did you do?”

“It’s not illegal,” he added, stepping back slightly as you took a slow, threatening step forward.

“Jake.”

He held out the roast chicken bag like a shield. “Eat first. Yell later.”

You snatched the bag but kept your gaze locked on him, lips pressed into a flat line. “Talk.”

He scratched the back of his neck, clearly stalling, eyes darting around like he was hoping a car would hit him and end the conversation.

—

The door to your shared apartment swung open with a slam, and you stormed in like a woman possessed.

Jake had barely made it through the front door before you launched yourself at him like a sleep-deprived hurricane.

“YOU—YOU ABSOLUTE MENACE—”

“Wait—WAIT—THE CHICKEN—!” he squeaked, still trying to kick his shoes off as you flailed your arms with righteous fury.

You were half-thrashing, half-swatting at him with the plastic bag still clutched in your hand, the scent of roasted garlic and chili oil trailing behind every slap. Jake yelped, stumbling backward as he grabbed the nearest couch cushion to shield himself.

“IT’S FIVE HUNDRED PER DATE!” he shrieked. “WHY ARE YOU YELLING—”

“I’M YELLING BECAUSE YOU SOLD ME LIKE I'M SOMETHING YOU CAN BUY FROM THE STORE!” you cried, swinging the chicken like it owed you rent.

Right then, Jungwon’s bedroom door flew open with a bang. His hair was sticking up in all directions, eyes wide with panic, an oversized hoodie hanging off one shoulder like it had lost the will to live.

“WHAT’S GOING ON?” he demanded, voice still hoarse with sleep. “Is someone dying?!”

“HES A FUCKING IDIOT, THAT’S WHAT’S GOING ON!” you shouted, jabbing a finger at Jake like a prosecutor presenting Exhibit A.

From behind the couch cushion, Jake winced. “Okay, I understand that you're mad."

Jungwon blinked, processing. “Dude, what the hell did you do?"

"HE WANTS ME TO FAKE DATE HIS BOSS!” you screamed again, nearly vibrating with rage.

Jake raised a finger. “For money,” he added helpfully, as if that made the entire situation perfectly reasonable.

Jungwon stood there for a beat, then tilted his head. “...Is the boss hot?”

The entire room fell into silence.

You turned to Jake slowly, brows lifting. “Wait. Is the boss hot?”

Jake’s grin spread, lazy and far too pleased with himself. “You tell me. You met him.”

Your brain stuttered. Froze. Replayed the memory of a tall man in a dark suit, judging you with cold eyes while you stuffed your face with carbs like a gremlin.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, dropping onto the couch like gravity had finally won. “You’re all insane.”

Jungwon wandered over and sat beside you, already reaching for the plastic bag. “I’m just here for the roast chicken,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Can someone pass me a leg?”

Jake, still crouched like a man dodging emotional bullets, gently placed the bag on the coffee table like it was a sacred offering. Then he looked over at you, head tilted, eyes wide and hopeful.

“So,” he said softly, “can I explain now? No hitting this time?”

You stared at him.

He grinned anyway.

And unfortunately for him, he was still within arm’s reach.

—

You sat on the couch like a judge ready to deliver a life sentence, arms crossed so tightly your shoulders were starting to cramp. The look on your face could’ve wilted houseplants. Jake, for once in his life, had the good sense to sit on the floor at a safe distance, hands folded on the coffee table like he was about to pitch a startup you were morally opposed to.

Jungwon sat cross-legged between you, gnawing on a chicken leg and swiveling his head left and right like a referee at a very dramatic tennis match.

“So,” Jake began carefully, voice high and overly gentle, “first of all, I just want to say that I love and appreciate you—”

“No,” you cut in, eyes locked on him. “Start with the part where you volunteered me—your best friend, your roommate, your tragically broke companion in poverty—to pretend to date Lee Heeseung. The CEO. The multi-billionaire. Your boss.”

Jake opened his mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again.

Jungwon, through a mouthful of chicken, offered, “That guy’s scarier than my thesis supervisor. And mine once made someone cry over a missing footnote.”

“THANK YOU!” you shouted, pointing at Jake like you were about to sentence him to community service.

Jake threw his hands up. “Okay, okay, yes, I panicked! Grandpa Lee was in the office, demanding to know why Heeseung was single, and I didn’t know what to say! So your name just—came out!”

“Like a demon leaving your body?” you snapped.

Jake pointed a finger at you. “Also, this is kind of your fault!”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“HE SAID YOU BUMPED INTO HIM!” Jake practically shouted, voice cracking. “And he saw, like, four bread rolls in your arms!”

“It was three!” you yelled, scandalized.

Jake flailed. “Okay, THREE! Doesn’t change the fact that Grandpa Lee saw you, assumed you were stealing company bread, and decided obviously you and Heeseung were secretly dating.”

You stared at him. “In what world does that even make sense—”

“SO THIS IS YOUR FAULT!” Jake yelled dramatically, pointing like you’d been caught on a crime scene.

You gaped. “I didn’t know the old man I bumped into was Heeseung’s grandfather! How is that my fault?!”

“I don’t know!” Jake shouted back. “But somehow it is!”

Jungwon raised a hand without looking up. “To be fair, you did look suspicious carrying that much bread.”

“I WAS HUNGRY!” you barked.

Jake groaned. “Look, I didn’t plan this, okay? It happened. It’s done. And now we just need to go along with it for a few fake dates—three, four tops—and we’re good.”

You glared. “This is literally fraud.”

Jake held up a finger. “This is capitalism—and you get paid. Five hundred per date.”

You opened your mouth to yell again—then paused.

Because five hundred… times four…

Your gaze dropped to the roast chicken on the table, suspiciously thoughtful.

Jake leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “You’re doing the math.”

“No.”

“You are.”

Jungwon didn’t miss a beat. “Two grand.”

“Shut up,” you and Jake snapped in unison.

You sagged into the couch like the weight of student loans had finally won. “He’s not even going to like me.”

Jake tilted his head. “He already noticed you. Asked about the girl who ‘wiped her mouth with her sleeve like she was raised in the wild.’”

Jungwon snorted so hard he nearly choked.

You exhaled, long and slow. “...Fine.”

Jake’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

“But if this backfires,” you said, pointing a chicken drumstick at him with all the gravitas of a loaded weapon, “I’m shitting in your room.”

Jake didn’t even blink. “That’s fair.”

Jungwon nodded solemnly. “Reasonable terms.”

—

As Heeseung always said—often, and with great pride—he wasn’t the relationship type.

Too much work. Too much noise. Too many unnecessary emotions clogging up the schedule.

People around him dated like it was a seasonal hobby. Fell in love in spring, broke up by fall, recycled the whole cycle again by winter. But for Heeseung? It had never been appealing. He didn’t need anyone. He liked being alone. He thrived alone.

He was an expert at sidestepping dating scandals. A pro at slipping out of flirty conversations with a well-timed smile and a conveniently urgent phone call. He could survive dinner parties full of “When are you getting married?” aunties without so much as a twitch in his left eye.

Composed. Controlled. Untouchable.

Until now.

Now, he was sitting in his office—his very sleek, very expensive office—surrounded by floor-to-ceiling glass, watching the Seoul skyline stretch out like a smug reminder that his life was supposed to be pristine.

And it was. Mostly.

His suit was charcoal grey, custom-tailored. His coffee, bitter and scalding, sat in its perfectly symmetrical spot on the table. His hair, of course, was slicked back with enough precision to win a military medal. Everything in his life was polished.

Everything… except this one absurd detail.

He exhaled slowly.

Jake.

Jake and his chronically reckless mouth.

This wasn’t the usual “Oops, I told the intern you’d review their pitch” kind of trouble.

This was “Oops, I told my grandpa you’re dating a girl you don’t know, and now she’s coming to a meeting at 2:30” kind of trouble.

Heeseung had handled high-stakes mergers. He’d stared down stone-faced investors and charmed half a dozen billionaires before lunch. But now? Now he was apparently in a fake relationship.

And paying for it.

Five hundred dollars per date.

He wasn’t sure which part offended him more—the relationship, or the invoice.

Jake had made it sound like she was some half-wild creature who pillaged the office pantry and vanished into the wind. Which… wasn't entirely inaccurate. But what Jake didn’t know—and what Heeseung would rather jump out the boardroom window than admit—was that he had noticed her.

Actually, he’d remembered her quite clearly.

Big eyes. Crumbs on her cheek. Confidence like she owned the place, despite clearly not belonging there. She’d looked him dead in the eye with a mouthful of bread and the pure, unbothered energy of someone who’d never been told “no” in her life. Honestly? It was a little bit impressive.

And yes. Fine. Maybe she was cute.

Not that it mattered.

Because Heeseung didn’t do feelings. He didn’t get involved. He didn’t believe in all that heart-fluttering, stars-aligning nonsense.

Cute or not, this wasn’t going to turn into anything.

It was just a favor. A fake setup. A temporary solution to a very loud grandfather.

That was all.

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and breathed through his growing irritation. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to perform feelings. He didn’t want to drink overpriced coffee with some girl pretending to be his girlfriend so his matchmaking grandfather could sleep peacefully at night.

A quick glance at his watch: 2:27 p.m.

—

You were pinching Jake’s side like your entire financial future depended on it.

“Ow!” he yelped for the third time, swatting at your hand. “Okay, I need those ribs!”

You didn’t care.

You were terrified.

No—beyond terrified. Every synonym in the English language applied. Petrified, horrified, on-the-verge-of-spontaneous-combustion. Your heart was trying to launch itself into space. Your soul was threatening to exit your body via sheer panic.

“Breathe,” Jake said gently, trying to peel your claw-like grip off his hoodie. “You’re gonna be fine. You look amazing. Honestly, if you weren’t my best friend, I would've totally tried to kiss you by now.”

“You’re not helping, Jaeyun,” you hissed, teeth clenched, eyes wide and manic like you’d just seen the end of civilization.

“Right, sorry,” he said quickly—still grinning, because Jake had zero fear of death, apparently.

You glanced at your watch.

2:25.

Ten minutes until showtime.

Your heart was doing Olympic-level gymnastics. Your stomach was performing Cirque du Soleil. Your brain was stuck on a loop of elevator music and “what if” scenarios.

You looked ahead—at the sleek, modern glass door of Heeseung’s office. Too clean. Too intimidating. Too expensive-looking. Even the potted plants screamed, You don’t belong here.

The panic hit like a freight train.

Without thinking, you grabbed Jake’s arm and yanked him back, nearly slamming both of you into a very offended-looking potted plant near the elevator.

“I can’t do this,” you whispered, voice shaking, hands clammy. “I cannot do this.”

Jake blinked. “Whoa—okay. Deep breath. You can do this. You’re just nervous.”

“Nervous is messing up a group project. This is like—I don’t know—faking a relationship with a corporate cyborg while praying I don’t end up blacklisted from every job ever.”

Jake made a soothing gesture. “He’s just a guy. A guy in a very expensive suit with the social skills of a brick and a caffeine addiction that’s borderline medical.”

You let out a half-sob. “Jake, what if I say something weird? What if I trip? What if he hates me on sight and then cancels the whole thing and somehow calls my school and gets me expelled just for existing—”

“Hey.” Jake grabbed your shoulders, firm but gentle. “Look at me.”

You did. Barely.

“You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re gorgeous. You’re the only person I trust with this because you’re the only one who could handle him. Even when he’s acting like some emotionally stunted AI in a suit.”

You sniffed. “I hate you.”

Jake smiled, soft and annoyingly sincere. “Love you too. Now breathe, princess.”

You inhaled. Exhaled.

Inhaled again. Slower.

It helped. Barely. But it helped.

Jake stepped back and nudged you gently toward the glass doors. “Go in there. Pretend you like him. Pretend you’re not thinking about chicken. Smile. Look mysterious. Say something deep like, ‘I don’t really believe in love.’ He’ll be confused. That’s how you win.”

A dry laugh escaped you—half squirrel, half dying engine. But still. A laugh.

Your watch blinked again.

2:28.

Showtime.

You straightened your shoulders, fixed your expression into something halfway pleasant, and took a step forward.

Let the corporate fake dating games begin.

—-

Heeseung sat alone in his office, posture perfect, fingers wrapped loosely around a coffee cup. His suit was sharp, pressed so crisply it practically gleamed. His expression, as always, unreadable.

Except for the slight crease in his brow.

Because she was late.

He glanced at his watch.

2:31.

Not catastrophic. But still. He didn’t like being made to wait. Especially not by someone he was paying.

He exhaled quietly, sipped his coffee, and shifted his gaze to the window—

—just in time to watch a girl crash headfirst into the glass office door.

He blinked.

There was a muffled thud, followed by a dramatic, “OW, MY FACE!” and Jake’s voice yelling, “OH MY GOD, ARE YOU OKAY?!”

The girl stumbled back, one hand pressed to her forehead, the other still valiantly clutching a bubble tea with a bent straw and a leaking lid. Her dress was cute, her hair a little windswept, and her face was lit up in full, blazing embarrassment.

Heeseung stared.

“This is your fault,” she snapped at Jake, rubbing the growing red mark on her forehead.

“If you hadn’t roped me into this, I wouldn’t have walked straight into your invisible death door.”

Jake gasped, wounded. “My fault?! Are you blind?! The door wasn’t even moving!”

“I was panicking! I thought you were going to shove me through it like a sacrificial lamb!”

“You were already walking!”

“You said, ‘smile and act normal’ right before I hit it. What part of that was helpful?!”

“You looked cute! Until, you know… the impact.”

Inside the office, Heeseung remained still. Coffee in hand. Silent. Watching.

Through the glass, their chaotic little argument carried on without shame. You were waving your hands in frustration; Jake was holding your elbow with exaggerated concern, both exasperated and wildly entertained.

It was loud. Messy. Unprofessional.

It was… oddly funny.

A faint tug pulled at the corner of Heeseung’s mouth before he even noticed it.

Not quite a laugh. Not quite a smirk.

Just… the suggestion of something warm.

Jake finally spotted him and started waving like a man trying to signal an aircraft.

“Let’s go already! He hates tardiness.”

You turned.

Your eyes met Heeseung’s through the glass—annoyed, wide-eyed, bubble tea still clutched like a fallen soldier in one hand.

Heeseung raised his coffee in silent acknowledgment.

And nodded.

You swallowed. “Great,” you muttered. “He saw all of that, didn’t he?”

“Every second,” Jake said cheerfully.

You groaned and took a cautious step forward. Jake placed a hand on your back and gently—but undeniably—shoved you through the door like you were an offering to royalty.

He guided you across the room like a handler walking a nervous show dog.

“Mr. Lee,” Jake said smoothly, already shifting into his polished Assistant Mode. “This is my friend.”

Heeseung didn’t respond right away. His gaze remained fixed on his coffee mug, fingers tapping lightly along the rim like it was conducting an orchestra only he could hear.

You stood stiffly in front of him, hands clasped like you were about to deliver a public apology. Jake stood beside you with the smug energy of a man watching chaos unfold exactly as he planned.

Finally, Heeseung looked up.

His eyes moved from Jake to you.

To your forehead.

Back to your eyes.

“…You’re late,” he said flatly.

You blinked. “It’s 2:32.”

“Yes,” Heeseung replied. “Which is not 2:30. Like we originally planned.”

Your jaw twitched. “Psycho,” you muttered, just loud enough for a small god to hear.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

You straightened. “Sorry. I meant… yes, I know. Won’t happen again.”

Jake nudged your side and whispered, “Off to a strong start.”

—

The past five minutes were the longest of your life.

You stared at your feet. Then your thumbs. Then the floor again, like something might appear to save you. A trapdoor, maybe. Or the sweet embrace of the earth swallowing you whole.

Heeseung, meanwhile, had been staring at you. The entire time.

Not speaking. Not blinking. Just… watching.

Jake sat between you like a silent referee, sipping his coffee with the energy of someone watching a sitcom he’d accidentally created.

It was weird. Weird. Weird. Unbearably weird.

Finally, mercifully, Heeseung cleared his throat. The sound cut through the silence like a scalpel.

“I prepared a contract,” he said, voice calm. Businesslike. As if you weren’t about two minutes away from passing out in his office.

You blinked. “A contract? For something as—” you stopped, but it was too late—“as stupid as this?”

There was a pause.

Heeseung’s brow lifted. Just slightly. “Stupid?”

You froze. Your mouth opened. Nothing helpful came out.

“I didn’t mean—it’s not—I’M stupid,” you blurted, clapping your hands over your face. “That’s what I meant. I’m stupid. Please ignore everything I say for the next ten years.”

Jake choked on his drink.

You kept your face buried in your palms, wondering if anyone in the building would trade places with you. Janitor? Security guard? Plant in the corner?

Heeseung said nothing. For a long second.

Then, very dryly: “Good to know.”

You groaned.

Jake leaned over, voice low and unhelpfully cheerful. “You’re doing great.”

“Mr. Lee has written up a draft of the contract,” Jake said, slipping into full assistant mode, posture straight, tone clipped and professional.

You squinted at him. “Ew. Why are you talking like that?”

Jake glanced at you, then back at Heeseung with a sigh. “I’m working, you idiot,” he muttered under his breath.

“Oh. Right.” You scratched your neck, sheepish. “Forgot.”

Across the table, Heeseung bit his bottom lip—subtly, quickly—but it didn’t go unnoticed. His gaze lingered on you, and for the first time since you walked into the room, something shifted. His eyes didn’t look annoyed anymore.

Amused, maybe. Just slightly.

Dangerously close to smiling.

Jake cleared his throat, snapping back to task. “In the contract,” he continued, “you’ll find a breakdown of the terms—including Mr. Lee’s expectations, your responsibilities as his… companion—” he winced a little at the word “companion,” “—and a list of things you’re explicitly not allowed to do.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like what? Wear Crocs in public?”

Jake didn’t miss a beat. “Actually, yes. Clause six.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re joking.”

Heeseung finally spoke, smooth and unbothered. “I don’t joke about footwear.”

You stared at him.

He stared back.

Jake leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee again like he was watching live theatre.

“Okay… and what else?” you asked, trying—and failing—to sound chill.

Jake cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable. “Clause five…Physical…”

Heeseung looked up, expectant. “Yes?”

Jake made a face like he was already regretting his entire existence. “Do I… have to explain it?”

“Yes,” Heeseung said calmly, without even looking up from the contract. “It’s in the terms.”

You squinted at him. “Terms? What is this, fake dating or joining the military?”

Jake pressed on. “Physical contact. Mr. Lee has stated that there should be… none. Or at least not without clear, mutual agreement. No uninvited touching. No sudden… anything. Basically—don’t grope the CEO.”

You choked. “What?! I wasn’t—Why would—That wasn’t even on the table—”

Jake raised both hands. “I’m just reading the clause!”

Your face went red. Hot. Instantly.

You turned to Heeseung, eyes wide. “Not that I was planning to touch you or anything! Like, why would I—Not that you’re—okay, you are technically—”

You made a sound that wasn't even a word and slapped a hand over your own mouth.

Jake let out a slow, gleeful exhale. “This is so much better than I imagined.”

You groaned and sank lower in your seat. “I hate it here.”

Heeseung, annoyingly composed, glanced up at you. His expression unreadable… but his lips twitched. Barely.

You swore he was enjoying this.

You had been in the office for an hour.

One full hour.

Sixty minutes of your life you were never getting back, spent listening to Jake read through a contract like a local news anchor trying to make tax reform sound exciting.

“…Clause twelve: Should the second party—meaning you—be asked to attend any corporate function, you will refrain from referring to the first party—meaning Mr. Lee—as ‘my sugar daddy,’ even in jest.”

You blinked. “That… needed to be clarified?”

Jake didn’t look up. “You’d be surprised.”

You slowly slid further down in your seat, gripping your bubble tea like it was the last tether to your sanity. Your legs had gone numb. Your dignity had long since packed its bags and fled the room. And the worst part?

You still had to sign this thing.

All this—for a whopping two grand.

Across the table, Heeseung was unmoved. He hadn’t spoken in the last twenty minutes, just sipped his now-cold coffee and occasionally made a small note in the margins like he was preparing for a stockholders’ meeting instead of a fake relationship.

Jake flipped the page. “Clause thirteen…”

You groaned. “There are thirteen?”

Jake looked up. “We’re only halfway through.”

You dropped your head to the table.

This was your life now.

—

You had officially entered hour two of your Fake Dating Orientation.

Jake, your overly enthusiastic best friend and traitor to your dignity, was seated across from you like a talk show host who’d been waiting all day for the drama. He’d already gone through the entire contract. Twice. And now, unfortunately, it was time for the “chemistry test.”

“We’re going to do a little practice,” he announced, clasping his hands together. “Let’s see how well you two can sell this.”

You blinked. “Sell what, exactly?”

Jake beamed. “That you’re in love, of course.”

You visibly recoiled. “Oh god.”

Heeseung, seated beside you, didn’t say anything, but his entire body tensed like he’d just been told he had to perform on a game show. His fingers gripped the armrest, jaw tight.

You glanced at him.

He glanced at you.

Then you both looked in opposite directions so fast it would’ve given a chiropractor whiplash.

Jake leaned forward, utterly enjoying himself. “Okay. Pretend you’re on a casual third date. You’re into each other. You’re comfortable. There’s hand-holding. Eye contact. Smiles. Soft laughter. Possibly some light touching of the knee if you're really ambitious.”

You turned your head just enough to catch Heeseung already looking your way. Your eyes met. Instantly, you looked back at the floor.

Your cheeks were burning.

So were his ears.

Jake let out the loudest, most exaggerated sigh in human history. “You two haven’t even held hands yet.”

“I don’t—this is ridiculous. I don’t need acting lessons,” Heeseung muttered, running a hand through his hair in mild frustration, clearly more flustered than he was willing to admit.

“Clearly you do,” you mumbled under your breath.

He turned his head slowly. “Your face is flushed.”

You raised a brow. “Your ears are red.”

That shut him up.

For a second, the two of you just stared at each other. Not blinking. Not smiling. Like two cats waiting to see who flinched first.

Then you both sneered. Simultaneously.

Jake, watching from the corner of the room like a director overseeing a painfully awkward indie film, clapped once. “Amazing. So natural. This is going great. Really convincing chemistry.”

You and Heeseung didn’t look away from each other.

He raised an eyebrow like this was some kind of silent battle.

You narrowed your eyes in return, mouth twitching.

Jake clapped his hands together like a game show host about to announce the bonus round. “Alright. Let’s take it out there.”

You squinted at him. “Out where? Hell?”

Jake ignored the comment. “The office. The hallway. The real world. You two need a test run.”

Heeseung exhaled through his nose. “This is stupid.”

Jake raised a brow. “Should I just go ahead and reschedule that SunTech date, then? I’m sure she’d love a Thursday dinner.”

Heeseung shot him a look. “You’re forgetting you work for me.”

Jake smiled sweetly. “And you’re forgetting you need me to fix this mess.”

You, meanwhile, were sprawled on the couch like an exhausted Victorian heroine. “I’m bored.”

Jake turned, hands on hips. “You’re getting paid five hundred dollars per date to fake-date a CEO. Try to look alive.”

“Fine,” you groaned, hauling yourself up. “Let’s get this over with. What exactly do you want us to do? Gaze longingly into each other’s souls and whisper sweet nothings about fiscal responsibility?”

Heeseung rolled his eyes. “She’s really dramatic.”

“And you’re really uptight,” you shot back.

Jake clapped again, delighted. “Perfect. Just like a real couple.”

You both glared at him.

“Okay,” Jake continued, stepping into director mode. “Stage one: casual physical affection. We’re going for subtle intimacy. Nothing over-the-top. Just enough to make people go, ‘Hmm. They might be sleeping together.’”

Heeseung nearly choked on air.

You blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

Jake gestured between you like a choreographer. “Heeseung, arm around her waist. And you, try not to look like you’re being taken hostage.”

Heeseung looked vaguely alarmed. “Do I have to?”

“Yes,” Jake said cheerfully. “Like you’ve touched another human being before. Preferably without looking like it’s a tax audit.”

There was a long pause.

Then, reluctantly, Heeseung stepped closer. His hand hovered awkwardly near your waist like it had never been introduced to the concept of touch.

You raised your eyebrows. “You’re not disarming a bomb.”

He cleared his throat. “You’re… shorter than I thought.”

“I’m wearing flats.”

“Still. Noted.”

Jake watched with glee as Heeseung finally, finally placed his hand on your waist—so lightly it was barely there. You tensed anyway. Because apparently your nervous system hadn’t signed off on this level of contact.

Jake turned to you. “And you, sweetheart, try not to smile like you’re being held at gunpoint.”

You bared your teeth in what could only generously be described as a grimace.

Heeseung glanced at you. “That’s your fake dating face?”

“It’s a work in progress.”

“You look like you’re about to offer me life insurance.”

You sighed. “Okay, let’s not pretend you’re Mr. Suave. You touched me like I’m made of porcelain and trauma.”

“I didn’t want to overstep.”

Jake, now leaning on the doorway like a proud parent at a talent show, was positively glowing. “This is amazing. I should be charging admission.”

You groaned. “Are we done yet?”

“Almost,” Jake said, eyes twinkling. “Now walk out there. Just a quick lap around the office. Arm around her waist. Maybe whisper something flirty if you’re feeling bold. Bonus points if someone drops their coffee.”

You turned to Heeseung, who looked like he’d rather be hit by a bus.

He glanced back at you.

You both exhaled.

And in perfect, miserable unison, you muttered, “Let’s just get this over with.”

—-

At the entrance of Heeseung’s office, Jake had—because of course he did—another brilliant idea.

“Let’s try a… scenario,” he’d said, eyes gleaming like he’d just discovered a new form of social torture. “Something romantic. Circumstantial. Like you just got caught in a moment. You know, one of those ‘oh, didn’t see you there, just happened to be holding each other and laughing softly’ kind of deals.”

You and Heeseung stared at him in silence.

Jake pointed to the glass wall just beside the door. “Over there. That’s your stage.”

So now, here you were—pressed awkwardly to the side of the office entrance, standing shoulder to shoulder with Lee Heeseung, the human embodiment of a luxury watch ad.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

“I’m gonna be completely honest,” you whispered, glancing up at him. “I forgot the plan.”

He looked down at you, the corner of his mouth twitching. “There shouldn’t be a plan.”

You frowned. “What?”

“This kind of thing,” he said, voice lower now, thoughtful, “should be natural. If we rehearse every little move, it’ll look fake.”

You didn’t respond right away.

Because honestly?

You had no idea how to make it look real.

You’d never been on a fake date before.

Actually, you’d never even been on a real date.

You’d spent your entire life chasing deadlines, side gigs, tuition payments, and discount ramen packs—love had never exactly made it into the schedule. Flirting was an optional elective you never had time to take. The closest you’d ever gotten to romantic tension was arguing with a vending machine.

And now here you were. Being gently stared at by a man with cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass and eyes like he was actually trying to understand you. You had half a mind to pull the fire alarm and flee.

Instead, you cleared your throat and said, “Right. Natural. Got it. So should I just… laugh at nothing? Flip my hair and pretend you said something charming?”

Heeseung smirked—actually smirked—and looked away. “You’re really bad at this.”

“I’m trying,” you hissed.

“I can tell.”

You gave him a sharp look. “Well, you’re not exactly oozing romance either, Mr. Emotionally Constipated.”

He huffed a small laugh through his nose, shaking his head. “Do you always insult the people you fake date?”

“Just the ones who critique my performance before the show starts.”

He glanced back at you then, gaze lingering a bit longer this time. “You’re nervous.”

You stiffened. “No, I’m not.”

“You’re fidgeting.”

“No, I’m—”

“You keep tapping your fingers.”

You looked down. Your hand was, in fact, tapping against your thigh like it was performing a solo.

“…It’s called rhythm,” you muttered.

Heeseung just gave you a look.

And for a moment, just a moment, the tension shifted. Slightly softer. Slightly less unbearable.

Heeseung exhaled slowly and said, almost reluctantly, “Let’s just… be still for a second. Pretend we’re mid-conversation. Look relaxed.”

You nodded.

Neither of you moved.

From inside the office, Jake was pressed dramatically against the glass, holding his phone up like he was filming a nature documentary.

You both ignored him.

Mostly.

Then, quietly, Heeseung said, “You’ve never done this before, have you?”

You blinked. “What, pretend to be someone’s fake girlfriend?”

He didn’t say anything, just raised an eyebrow.

You hesitated. Then sighed. “I’ve never been any kind of girlfriend.”

Heeseung looked at you.

Not judgmental. Not surprised.

Just… quiet.

And for the first time, you wished this moment wasn’t fake. Just for a second.

Then Jake knocked on the glass like a proud zookeeper.

“THAT LOOKS AMAZING!” he yelled. “Now do a forehead touch!”

You turned back to Heeseung, mortified.

“Don’t,” you warned.

Heeseung nodded. “Absolutely not.”

But when he looked at you again, his ears were pink. And this time, yours were too.

—-

The next few days were absolutely unhinged.

When Jake told you Heeseung was meticulous, you thought he meant the occasional Google Calendar reminder. What he actually meant was: this man plans your fake relationship like it’s a Fortune 500 company launch.

From Monday to Friday, he had everything scheduled down to the minute.

Monday

"Coffee shop. 2 p.m. Look approachable."

Those were his exact words. Not cute. Not casual. Approachable. Like you were a storefront. You showed up early—naturally—and promptly spilled oat milk across the table trying to jab your straw into your cup. It exploded like a dairy crime scene.

Heeseung just stared at you. Then slid a napkin across the table, deadpan. You muttered, “You're welcome for the entertainment.”

You made fun of his black coffee. “You drink it like a bitter old man who’s lost faith in humanity.”

He looked at your lavender oat milk iced monstrosity. “And your drink choices are one of a six-year-old’s.” 

You laughed. 

He didn’t.

But his eyes softened. Just a little.

Tuesday

PR strategy, according to Jake: “Be seen. Look adorable. Pretend you like each other.”

You: showed up in his office.

Also you: immediately raided the pantry and stole three muffins.

Heeseung watched from his desk. Said nothing. Pretended to type very seriously while clearly watching you.

You plopped down on his couch, opened your laptop, and made very dramatic “working” noises.

At one point, your laptop screen dimmed. Before you could even react, he walked over silently and plugged in your charger.

You blinked. “Oh. Thanks.” He just shrugged and returned to his desk. But you caught it. The ghost of a smile as he sat down. Like he was trying not to like you. Failing, obviously.



Wednesday

You accompanied him to a fake business lunch.

There were women in designer outfits, expensive perfume clouding the air, and stiletto heels you were sure doubled as weapons. They looked at you like you’d crawled out from under the table.You sat there in an old blouse your mom gave you, heart thumping in your chest, suddenly hyper-aware of the ketchup stain you thought you removed.

You fidgeted. Overthought. Considered hiding under the table.

Then Heeseung leaned in, so close his breath grazed your ear. “You’re doing fine.” That was it. Just those words.

And you didn’t remember a single thing after that. You just nodded and smiled and let those three words replay in your head like a calming song.

Later, in the car, you kicked off your heels like they’d personally betrayed you. He raised an eyebrow.

“A little dramatic, no?”

“I’ve suffered,” you whined.

 He handed you a water bottle and rolled the windows down.

 “You’re welcome,” he said.

 You rested your feet on the dash. Caught him looking at you at a red light.

 He looked away too fast. Suspiciously fast.

Thursday

You brought takeout to his office, unannounced.

He looked up when you entered, blinking like you’d just done something absurd. “You brought food?”

“Yes. Humans eat. Shocking, I know.”

You sat on the floor beside his desk. He joined you. In a full suit. Cross-legged like a model student, tie undone, sleeves rolled to his forearms. You offered him a dumpling. He took it. No hesitation.

 You grinned. “Isn’t it so good?”

He chewed. “Greasy.”

“But good?”

He hesitated. “If I say yes, will you stop bothering me?”

“No.”

“Then yes.”

You pretended not to notice the way his eyes lingered on your face longer than they needed to.

Friday

You were late. By five minutes.

He texted: “Late.”

You texted back: “Cry about it.”

He didn’t reply.

You arrived out of breath, annoyed, hair windswept and bag hanging off one shoulder like you’d run a marathon to get there.

He just handed you a drink. Your favorite.

Didn’t say anything. Didn’t look smug. Just passed it to you with one hand and opened the door to a rooftop garden with the other. Of course he had a rooftop garden. Because he was secretly the male lead of a tragic romantic comedy and you were starting to hate how well the role fit.

You sat on the bench beside him, knees brushing under the table. “You’re so serious all the time,” you said, teasing. “Do you even know how to smile?” He scoffed. 

“Do you even know how to tell a joke?”

 “Excuse me—I am hilarious.”

 “You’re… something.”

—-

You lay in bed, burrito-wrapped in your blanket, one arm tucked under your head and the other dramatically thrown across your eyes like a Victorian ghost overcome by mild emotional instability.

Your ceiling stared back at you like it knew.

And unfortunately, your brain did that thing it loved to do: play a full highlight reel of the past week.

It had been five days.

Five fake dates.

You were getting paid five hundred dollars per day to pretend to like Lee Heeseung.

That was the deal. The entire deal. Nothing more, nothing less.

And honestly? Not a bad one. Amazing hourly rate. Low stakes. You just had to hang out with a man who looked like a luxury perfume ad and acted like a spreadsheet given life.

You could do that.

You had survived retail during Christmas and three years of sharing a bathroom with Jungwon.

And yet… somehow, you were the one spiraling.

Because Heeseung wasn’t awful.

Actually—he was kind of…

Nice.

Underneath the sleek suits and emotionally stunted persona, he was… oddly considerate. The kind of guy who noticed when your laptop was dying and plugged it in without comment. Who remembered your coffee order after one chaotic spill. Who didn’t flinch when you shoved dumplings into his mouth like a sleepover buddy instead of a business partner.

And okay, fine. He was also really easy on the eyes.

With his annoyingly sharp jawline and those lips that were probably illegal in several countries. And the way his tie loosened around his neck by Thursday, and how he laughed—actually laughed—at your dumb joke on Friday.

You groaned and rolled onto your stomach, burying your face into your pillow.

“Nope. No. Absolutely not.”

You barely knew him. You’d been fake-dating for a week. You didn’t even know what kind of music he liked. For all you knew, he could be a hardcore jazz saxophone guy. Or worse—he liked podcasts about finance.

This wasn’t real. You were faking it.

Professionally.

And still…

You wondered what it would feel like to hold his hand with no one watching. No “scene” to pull off. No Grandpa to impress. Just… you. And him. And the quiet weight of something unsaid.

You wondered—horrifyingly—what it would feel like to kiss him.

Just once.

Just to see.

You smacked your forehead. “I need therapy.”

The worst part? It wasn’t even entirely about Heeseung.

You were realizing, in a slow, sinking kind of way, that your romantic life was… embarrassing.

Jake, your best friend-slash-chaos goblin, didn’t count. Jungwon, your honorary brother, sure as hell didn’t count. And your last date had been someone who said “let’s split the bill” and then left you with it.

You hadn’t been around someone kissable in a long time.

And now you were being paid to fake-date someone who might actually ruin your life if you let him.

You groaned into your mattress again.

At this rate, you were going to fall for your fake boyfriend before your first paycheck cleared.

—

Heeseung was not sleeping.

It was after midnight. The city outside was quiet. His entire house was dark.

And all he could think about… was you.

Which made no sense.

You had shown up in his life like a whirlwind. Unpredictable. Loud. Crumb-covered. You drank rainbow-colored lattes and wiped your mouth on your sleeve and called his contract “stupid” without blinking.

But you’d also fed him dumplings on the office floor—the office floor—which he’d never sat on in his life. But then you’d whined, kicked your feet like a brat, and said, “Just join me. Or are you too much of a rich bitch to?”

And that was all it took for Lee Heeseung—the picture of corporate perfection—to sit beside you, cross-legged, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You’d teased him until he smiled without realizing. You’d let your legs rest on the dashboard and talked about nothing like it mattered. And you hadn’t cared who he was. Not the CEO. Not the heir. Just… Heeseung.

He exhaled, staring at the ceiling with all the enthusiasm of a man confronting his own emotional shortcomings.

Was he really catching feelings after five “fake” dates?

Apparently, yes.

Which was alarming.

He had spent his entire adult life navigating business galas and high-end blind dates with elegant, polished women. The kind who wore heels taller than his emotional range. He knew how to charm. How to play the part.

And yet none of them had ever stuck.

None of them made his hands twitch when they leaned in.

None of them made him smile like an idiot when they were five minutes late.

But you?

You with your loud opinions and easy laughter and tendency to steal muffins like they were currency?

You were dangerous.

And you were fake.

A fake girlfriend, in a fake arrangement, for a fake relationship.

And yet here he was—imagining what your hand might feel like in his. What your laugh might sound like in his apartment, in the morning, when you were still sleepy.

Heeseung groaned and dragged a hand down his face.

This wasn’t good.

He was supposed to be managing this. Keeping things professional. Keeping his head clear.

Instead, he was lying awake at 1:34 a.m., thinking about your smile and the way your voice got all soft when you called him out for being too serious.

God help him.

He was catching feelings.

And he was completely, utterly screwed.

part 2

[blueish-bird]

*hires an intern just to keep track of my prescription refills and emails I need to reply to*

[infamous-if]

my highest appreciation is for the anons who randomly and occasionally just pop in to tell me “back up your stuff!” for no reason at all other than to be kind because my computer overloaded and suddenly powered off and I started doing panic laps around my apartment screaming “THIS CANT BE HAPPENING THIS CANT BE HAPPENING” before I remembered I emailed multiple copies of ch4 to myself due to an anon reminding me

all this to say u guys are very nice to me thanks 😚

[ms-demeanor]

probably not a good sign that i couldn't talk about work at the con this weekend without crying a little and that I had to force myself to leave my laptop at home so i couldn't do work and leaving my laptop at home made me feel a little panicky and also now i kind of want to throw up instead of going to work tomorrow.

I'm so overloaded that I've become completely ineffective, I've got so many projects that none of them are getting done, fucked up tracking time a couple weeks ago and missed twenty or so hours on my paycheck and am feeling so fried that I am struggling to muster up the energy to fix it (i shouldn't have missed that many hours anyway i'm hourly there's supposed to be a clock system for me but there isn't the time tracking is supposed to be for metrics not for how i get paid and now i have to dump time into fixing that)

there is a repository of business information that lives ONLY on my computer (my personal computer, because I do not have a work computer) that needs to get uploaded to our documentation system but the configs exported from one system as PDFs but can't be uploaded to the other as PDF so I need to open each one and save it in word so I can upload them individually because the system can take word docs but not PDFs

I need to finish creating the spreadsheet of standard hardware and put specifications and part numbers and standard costs on it but I need to meet with the networking team lead so we can go over spec for the networking equipment because the standards are new to both of us and I need to know what he's looking for if one of the standards are out of stock and he needs to learn the abbreviation/part number system for that particular vendor so i need to teach it to him and until we're on the same page I can't finish my hardware standards project

I need to create a guide for the practice leads to reach out to vendors in their relevant practices because right now I'm the one who reaches out so I'm the one who has the meetings about spec quotes and nobody else knows who to call or where to submit a consultation request

I need to create a guide for the techs to source hardware and figure out part numbers and compare specs

i need to quote two printer options for a client

i need to email the vendor about the mis-applied warranty and have it corrected to the appropriate device

i need to get uptime data on eight servers collected for the bimonthly client meeting

i need to call microsoft to get access to a tenant for a user we never should have sold licenses to

i need to check tracking and update the order spreadsheet

i need to export the list of firewalls from one vendor and sort it by active clients and sort it by the ones that need to be replaced because they're EOL and then the ones that need to be renewed and then the ones that aren't on fire that we can consider replacing in two years

I need to look at the list of servers and sort by drive type and get the drive part numbers so that I can get spares to all the clients

of those things, I think I've got tickets for two or three of them. The other forty five tickets I have are unrelated to this task list.

[friendlyneighborhoodshark]

"How to Life" Masterlist

Cleaning and Tidying

Make your bed in the morning. It takes seconds, and it's worth it.

Reset to zero each morning.

Use the UFYH 20/10 system for clearing your shit.

Have a 'drop-zone' box where you dump anything and everything. At the beginning/end of the day, clear it out and put that shit away.

Automate your chores. Have a cleaning schedule and assign 15mins daily to do whatever cleaning tasks are set for that day. Set a timer and do it once the timer is up, finish the task you're on and leave it for the day.

Fold your clothes straight out of the tumble dryer (if you use one), whilst they're still warm. This minimises creases and eliminates the need for ironing.

Clean your footwear regularly and you'll feel like a champ.

Organisation and Productivity

Learn from Eisenhower's Importance/Urgency matrix.

Try out the two-minute rule and the Pomodoro technique.

Use. A. Planner. (Or Google Calendar, if that's more your thing.)

Try bullet journalling.

Keep a notebook/journal/commonplace book to dump your brain contents in on the regular.

Set morning alarms at two-minute intervals rather than five, and stick your alarm on the other side of the room. It's brutal, but it works.

Set three main goals each day, with one of them being your #1 priority. Don't overload your to-do list or you'll hit overload paralysis and procrastinate.

If you're in a slump, however, don't be afraid to put things like "shower" on your to do list - that may be a big enough goal in itself, and that's okay.

Have a physical inbox - a tray, a folder, whatever. If you get a piece of paper, stick it in there and sort through it at the end of the week.

Consider utilising the GTD System, or a variation of it.

Try timeboxing.

Have a morning routine, and guard that quiet time ferociously.

Have a folder for all your important documents and letters, organised by topic (e.g. medical, bank, university, work, identification). At the front of this folder, have a sheet of paper with all the key information written on it, such as your GP's details, your passport details, driving licence details, bank account number, insurance number(s), and so on.

Schedule working time and down time alike, in the balance that works for you.

Money

Have. A. God. Damn. Budget.

Use a money tracker like toshl, mint, or splitwise. Enter all expenses asap! (You will forget, otherwise.)

Have a 'money date' each week, where you sort through your finances from the past seven days and then add it to a spreadsheet. This will help you identify your spending patterns and whether your budget is actually working or not.

Pack your own frickin' lunch like a grown-up and stop buying so many takeaway coffees. Keep snacks in your bag.

Food and Cooking

Know how to cook the basics: a starch, a protein, a vegetable, and a sauce.

Simple, one-pot meals ("a grain, a green, and a bean") are a godsend.

Batch cook and freeze. Make your own 'microwave meals'.

Buy dried goods to save money - rice and beans are a pittance.

Consider Meatless Mondays; it's healthier, cheaper, and more environmentally friendly.

Learn which fruits and vegetables are cheapest at your store, and build a standard weekly menu around those. (Also remember that frozen vegetables are cheap and healthy.)

Learn seasoning combinations. Different seasoning, even with the exact same ingredients, can make a dish seem completely new.

Misc

Have a stock email-writing format.

Want to start running, but find it boring? Try Zombies, Run!.

Keep a goddamn first aid kit and learn how to use it.

Update your CV regularly.

Keep a selection of stamps and standard envelopes for unexpected posting needs. (It happens more regularly than you would think!)

[vandijkwrites]

sorry if you've already answered this 700 times, in which case totally feel free to ignore. but how do you lengthen your attention span? is it as simple as watching/reading progressively longer things?

First of, I am by no means an expert, but I'm happy to help as much as I can! There are a lot of great articles, books, and podcasts on the topic if you want any further info.

The most important thing to realize is why are attention spans are getting worse:

Information overload and distractions make it difficult to focus. (Ex. social media and text notification going off while you are doing other tasks)

Intentional multitasking gets your brain used to doing more than one thing at once so it becomes very difficult to make it do only one thing (Ex. having the tv on in the background while doing other tasks)

Consuming a lot of media focused on having minimal downtime and immediate gratification decreases our patience and ability to do slower tasks (Ex. watching a lot of action packed movies and short TikToks)

Getting constant small hits of dopamine from social media decreases our ability to do tasks that don't give us dopamine hits (Ex. getting likes from a post or messages from friends)

The solutions to most of these come down to two things: (1) Do only one thing at a time (2) Limit distractions from that task (3) Reduce immediate gratification

So some example of ways to do that would be:

Read a book without your phone being on hand to distract you.

Watch TV without multitasking.

Reduce time on social media, especially social media focused on short videos.

Spend a day or part of a day without technology.

Spend time with friends without looking at your phone.

Watch slow-form content like unedited lecture or panel videos where people are just speaking at their normal pace without cutting pauses.

Listen to music albums all the way through instead of shuffling and skipping.

Eat meals without multitasking (ie mindful eating)

Make yourself a cup of tea and sit on a park bench or by the window and watch some birds.

People-watch at the coffee shop.

Write long emails or letters to friends and family instead of short texts.

Call and have a conversation with a loved one without multitasking.

Meditate.

Take a walk and enjoy nature.

Don't scroll through your phone while waiting in a line.

Read long posts when you come across them on your dashboard.

Have an ebook on your phone to read whenever you would normally scroll through social media.

Don't go on your phone/online for a certain amount of time before bed.

If you are having trouble doing these things, try to do one tasks but increase the stimuli of that task. For example, read a book while listening to the audiobook at the same time. Or listen to music while watching a lyric video. These are great baby steps!

Another great baby step is (like you said in your question) doing things for progressively longer amounts of time! Set a timer for a certain number of minutes and then read without distraction for that amount of time. That way it won't feel like it is never ending and you can track your progress.

Obviously not all of these will be for everyone and some of these are too hard for people with ADHD or serious attention issues, but they are a good place to start!

I hope that helps 💕

[that-was-anticlimactic]

you are all so amazing i genune;y appreciate y'all's willingness to help SO MUCH

sorry if i don't respond tonight... had a bad day at work and don't want to think about work for awhile lol

would any of you guys be down to help me out with an assignment? all you would need to do is use the word i give you in a sentence like a fill in the blank haha

you can make them fandom related as long as it makes sense without context lol

[mrsshabana]

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐬𝐬

ꔫ‧₊ Summary Your kindness and sincerity are like a drug to him, healing the broken man beneath the fancy suit and tie. But he will need to tread carefully so as not to overstep the professional boundary as your boss. And not to mention his wife, a cold and detached relationship that's worn him down. ꔫ‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, Modern au, Boss & secretary relationship, Gyutaro is married, Age gap ꔫ‧₊ Note 1k words. I've been planning this fic for a long time and I finally feel comfortable putting my own writing wants first. I think it'll be good for me as an author to prioritize what I'm excited about instead of constantly putting them on the back burner and writing what everyone wants me to. I hope you all enjoy this first chapter and thanks for reading ♡

✧:･ﾟ→ Chapter 2 ✧:･ﾟ→ AO3

Today is your first day at your new job. It’s a secretary position in a fancy building downtown. You don’t know much about the company itself, but you do know they are big and quite successful. Really the only reason you applied was because the pay was great and you had experience doing secretary work in the past. 

You had your interview with a man by the name of Tengen Uzui. He was kind, funny, and very charismatic. Making a point to state multiple times that he thought you’d be a great fit for his boss, Gyutaro Shabana, the CFO of the company. Who apparently needed a secretary desperately. 

When he offered you the position on the spot, you were more than happy to accept. Leading you to where you are today. 

Tengen excitedly leads you up to the top floor of the building, walking over to a large door. Knocking twice when you hear a gruff voice from inside the room rumble, “Come in.”

Opening the door, you see your new boss sitting behind a large desk, tall glass windows behind him, filling the room with natural light and a beautiful view of the city below. 

Immediately, you notice his unconventional appearance. He looks quite rugged for someone with such a high position in the company. His hair is shoulder-length and untidy, he has bags under his eyes, and looks exhausted. Contrasted with how sharp he looks in that dark tailored suit that nicely hugs his broad shoulders and thin waist. And of course, there’s the obvious — the strange assortment of birthmarks on his face. They’re midnight black and create a pretty contrast with his pale skin and deep blue eyes. He looks unconventional, but there’s something about him that you find appealing and attractive.

With a smirk, Tengen pushes you forward, “Hope I’m not interrupting your brooding session. But I brought you someone.”

“Explain,” Gyutaro says flatly, his expression unreadable.

“This is Miss Y/N,” Tengen smiles, “You’ve been complaining about scheduling messes and email overloads for weeks. So I took initiative and hired you a secretary. You’re welcome.”

Gyutaro is slightly annoyed by Tengen hiring a new employee without telling him, but he doesn’t want to come off as rude, so he forces a smile as he stands and reaches out his hand, “I see, well it’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Y/N.”

“The pleasure is mine! I’m excited to work for you!” You say enthusiastically, hoping to make a good impression on your new boss, trying not to be intimidated by how tall he is once he stands from his desk.

With a clap of his hands Tengen chimes, “Well, I’ll let you two get acquainted! Try not to scare her off, boss,” he winks playfully before leaving the room.

Gyutaro sighs, already feeling a headache forming, “I’ll call the IT guys to come up and help you get your computer set up, I’ll also forward you my calender and files. In the meantime you can get situated at your desk,” he gestures to the desk sitting outside his office. 

“Yes, sir. Thank you,” you bow curtly before turning to exit the room.

Gyutaro watches you, a mix of curiosity and confusion in his eyes. You didn’t flinch — you had actually smiled at him. Like there was nothing wrong with him, no imperfections on his face, no rasp in his voice, no awkwardly crooked teeth. You looked at him like he was normal. 

Something he hasn’t felt in a very long time.

His gaze lingers, and he doesn’t realize he’s still staring at the door after you’ve closed it behind you. 

~

His office is dimmer now, orange light filling the room as the sun begins to set behind the horizon of buildings. Gyutaro leans forward in his desk, fingers pressed into his temples as he tries to lessen the aching in his head.

His email inbox is a war zone — filled with meeting requests, reports, and investor inquiries. He sighs, exhausted and full of frustration. 

Then, a soft knock on the door. 

“Come in,” he grunts, sounding more annoyed than he intended. 

You shyly step forward, holding a stack of neatly sorted papers and a printed schedule. 

“I went through your emails and responded to anything urgent. The rest I’ve sorted here by priority,” you offer a kind smile as you gently set the documents on his desk.

“Oh!” you gasp, almost having forgotten to mention something, “I also fixed your schedule for tomorrow afternoon. You had three meetings scheduled at the same time. So I reached out and rescheduled based on everyone’s availability.”

Gyutaro is left speechless. Impossibly impressed by your diligence, especially since he hadn’t even realized the accidental triple booking. 

Taking the documents in his calloused hands, he scans them over, “You did all this?”

“Yes, sir. I know you’re busy so I figured it might help.”

He stares in awe at the weekly schedule you’ve printed for him, everything is clean and organized. Feeling so much more manageable than the mess of stress he had before. 

“Thank you,” he offers a soft smile. 

“You’re very welcome, sir,” you blush slightly, “I-I hope I’m not overstepping-”

“Not at all,” he says firmly, “You’ve done more in one day than most could do in a week.” There’s a rare hint of warmth in his tone as he says this, “It’s been a long time since someone has helped me like this.”

You try to hold back your excitement at his praise, “That’s my job, sir.” You grin happily, warmly, at him before slipping out of the room. 

Leaving Gyutaro alone again. But this time, the air in his office doesn’t feel as suffocating. It’s warm and calm. Something Gyutaro hasn’t felt since he was a child. A feeling that he never feels at the office, and certainly never feels at his home. 

But he welcomes the unfamiliar feeling. And for the first time in a long while, he can’t wait to come into work early tomorrow morning. 

Maybe hiring you wasn’t such a bad idea after all. He’ll thank Tengen later.

[astrolook]

The Astrology of Procrastination: Why You Can’t Get Anything Done 💤✨

Ever stared at your to-do list for hours only to do absolutely nothing? Or convinced yourself that "future me" will totally handle it (spoiler: they won’t)? Procrastination isn’t just a bad habit—some of us are literally built for it. (And by "some of us," I mean me, and maybe you too.)

If you’ve ever wondered why you can’t start (or finish) anything, let’s take a look at the planetary suspects. 🔍

🚨 The Most Guilty Placements: Serial Procrastinators

🐌 Mars in Pisces – You want to start, but then you get distracted by your own thoughts. Or a nap. Or a random existential crisis. Everything feels urgent, but somehow…nothing actually gets done. (Also, daydreaming is productive, right?)

🎢 Mars in Libra – You can’t decide where to start, so you just…don’t. Your energy is constantly swinging between overworking and zero effort. You’ll start when the vibes are right. (They never are.)

💤 12th House Stellium – Your best ideas arrive when you’re about to sleep, and then poof—they disappear. You’ll get things done eventually, but only after an extended period of spacing out and avoidance.

🐢 Saturn in the 6th House – You want to be productive, but perfectionism slows you down. If it’s not done right, it won’t be done at all. You might be the type to spend three hours planning and zero minutes actually working.

🔄 Mutable Sign Overload (Gemini, Virgo, Sag, Pisces) – You start everything and finish nothing. Half-written emails? Check. Unfinished creative projects? Check. Three different hobbies started last week? Also check.

📅 Venus in the 10th House – You’re productive when you feel like it. If the work isn’t aesthetic, enjoyable, or mildly dramatic, it’s getting pushed to tomorrow. (Or next week. Or never.)

🛑 Neptune Conjunct Mars – Action? Who is she? You might think about starting, but then you blink, and six hours have passed. Your energy dissolves the second you try to focus. (Procrastination level: daydreaming about work instead of doing it.)

🤡 Moon in Sagittarius – You will do it…right after you book a trip, go outside, or scroll TikTok for three hours. The second something feels restricting, you mentally check out. (Deadlines are just suggestions, right?)

🛠️ So, How Do You Fix It?

Fire sign Mars? Trick yourself into racing the clock. Set a 10-minute timer and make it a game.

Venus-heavy chart? Romanticize productivity. Light a candle. Make a cute checklist. Reward yourself.

Mutable placements? Keep a short to-do list. No, shorter than that.

12th House/Mars-Neptune? Work in spurts, not long hauls. Schedule when you’ll work, or you’ll never do it.

Saturn in the 6th? Done is better than perfect. Repeat after me.

TL;DR: Your Birth Chart Might Be The Reason You’re Chronically Behind

But hey, it’s not your fault—blame the planets. 😉 Need a cosmic strategy to actually get things done? Message me for a complete astrology reading, and let’s break your procrastination cycle once and for all. ✨📅