#jihan fluff

[joshujihan23]

Heaven And Back

☆ pairing: jeonghan x joshua x reader

☆ genre: fluff, established relationship, bickering with jeonghan (are we surprised), polyamorous relationship

☆ synopsis: you fell sick, and you didn’t tell them, so they just took care of you.

author’s note: i wrote this when i was sick during the month (i’m better now!) so to those sick while reading this, i hope you get the speediest recovery 🤍

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you were curled up on the couch, your hand hovering over the bundle of tissues on the table, placing yet another tissue filled with snot.

maybe it was the weather, or maybe your hectic schedule, but you have never felt so sick in your life.

you had every single symptom that the lord has to provide, and god you were hating it.

you shivered, your mind trying to comprehend the burning heat in your body, and the sudden chills you would feel from how cold you were.

and to make things worse, you’ve lost almost all of your voice due to the sore throat and how inflamed your mouth is because of how much you sneezed. and it has been more painful than ever.

blowing your nose once again, you hovered the blankets over your body, trying to shield the coldness away, when you hear the door unlock, with the voices and laughter of the two men.

and you realised, you haven’t actually told them you were down with a high fever, explaining the shock on their faces when they see your small figure on the couch, and the state of the living room.

a mess.

puzzled, the two men rushed towards you, a wave of worry flooding their faces.

“baby? you look so ill.” joshua mentioned, resting his hand on your forehead.

jeonghan knelt in front of you, taking in account the pile of tissues and the number of blankets you took from the living room.

“why didn’t you tell either of us, princess?” jeonghan added, his body sitting right beside you, pulling you closer to him.

you opened your mouth, wanting to reply, but only air escaped, and a raspy voice followed. you swallowed some saliva, trying to lubricate your throat.

and that made the both of them more worried.

joshua placed a hand on your cheek, which you leaned against by instinct, as he took in the sight of you. jeonghan placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, mumbling softly to you, “have you eaten, angel? or were you too sick to care, like you always do?”

“the second option..” you replied, your voice raspy, your eyes fluttering close from exhaustion.

“i’ll make some soup for you, how does that sound?” joshua suggested, his thumb rubbing against your cheekbone.

you nodded weakly, giving him a small smile despite your tiredness.

“and i’ll help you shower and wash the sickness away from you.” jeonghan added, his cheek now pressing against yours.

you rolled your eyes, your stare shooting against him.

“you’re using this chance to see me naked, aren’t you?” you asked, hitting his thigh gently.

that caused a laughter to escape from jeonghan lips, while he nuzzled his cheek against yours in hopes to win you over.

“you caught me~”

————————————————————————

after a million splashes and jeonghan using every opportunity to have his hands on your skin, you finally made it out of the bathroom in his shirt and your sleep shorts. rubbing your eyes, you felt a pair of arms wrapped around your waist from behind, and a head dipped against your right shoulder.

“angel, don’t be sulky, i didn’t mean to get bubbles into your pretty eyes~” jeonghan mumbled, the pout on his lips obvious from the tone of his voice.

you rolled your eyes, while your hand reached up to his hair, ruffling his hair gently with a chuckle.

“you’re lucky i’m sick.”

“i know. you would’ve splashed me soak, right?”

“you know me too well.”

“hey! stop being so lovey-dovey without me! come down and eat instead.” you heard joshua’s voice ringing through the apartment, making a soft laugh escape from your lips.

you trotted down the hallways, entering the living room, which was filled with the aroma of the egg drop soup.

at the sight of you, with jeonghan still having his body wrapped around you (except his legs, of course.), joshua let out a sigh, shaking his head.

“between you two, i can’t even tell who is the sick one.” he commented, patting the space beside him for you to sit.

“clearly she infected me with whatever she got.” jeonghan rebutted, the pout still apparent.

“did not! who told you to shower with me?” you replied, hitting his chest gently.

“owie! now i’m injured from my lover’s affection. i’ll need 10 kisses to be fully healed.”

“if i kiss you you will definitely fall sick.” you commented, your head leaning against joshua’s shoulder.

“aww..” jeonghan muttered.

“c’mon, enough bickering, time to fill those empty stomachs.”

joshua took a bowl filled with piping hot soup. he stirred the content, picking some up with the spoon. he blew the spoon a few times, so that it was cool enough to not scald the roof of your mouth (like you always do), before he placed it before your lips.

your lips parted slightly, giving entrance to the spoon, as the warm contents of the soup filled your mouth, sending sparks into your mind. your swirled in delight, hugging joshua arms in satisfaction.

“you’re the best, joshie.” you complimented, causing him to let out a faint laughter.

“better than jeonghan? i’m honoured.” he replied, a sheepish smile on his face.

“hey! i’m here too you know.” jeonghan spat out, hugging your waist tighter.

you giggled, while accepting another bite from joshua’s feedings.

“i’ll give you a billion kisses when i recover, alright?” you said, a smile, wider than before, spread across your lips.

that made jeonghan’s face light up, making him nod in excitement.

“lovely.” he replied, resting his head on your chest.

even though you went through the hell and back in the early afternoons, at least your evenings felt more like heaven.

and because of them, you’d probably recover from this sickness the next day.

(so that jeonghan could get the kisses he longed for.)

[afoggymirror]

:･ﾟ✧ ｡･::･ﾟ☆,｡･:*:･ﾟ✧

Jihan is a Restless Leg Syndrome girlie. Most of the time it’s not too annoying, but some times you’ll be cuddling and she starts making the whole couch shake. She knows she does it, you can just poke her on the knee and she’ll stop, at worst she’ll pout back at you. You guess it’s only natural, with how much energy she has.

The problem is, that energy carries over to her sleep too. Very often, as she’s drifting off at night, she’ll twitch, like a bunny dreaming that it’s running. She likes to sleep very close, too. More than once you woke up with a headbutt, or a kick to the shin.

At first it was alarming, you wondered if you should wake her up, whether she was having a nightmare. It never looks like she is, really. You think it’s just a quirk of how she falls asleep. Maybe, you thought one night, it’s her body getting used to being vulnerable around you.

Regardless, you can never bring yourself to wake her up. She just seems so peaceful next to you. You flip softly to face her, fitting your arms carefully to the space between you two, and feel a peace knowing that the loss of sleep means nothing, if she’s resting easy by your side.

The next morning you wake late and cranky, to see Jihan already up and energized and zooming all over the apartment. “Hey baby,” she says, coffee in hand, “did you sleep well?”

“Sure did!” you can’t help but say, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

[unreleasedwrites]

drabbling about lookism characters’ first date w you

pov: lookism characters’ first date with you; how, when, and where they take you on your guys’ special day

character(s) included: multiple; Daniel Park, Zack Lee, Warren Chae, Euntae Lee, Jace Park, Jake Kim, Sinu Han, Jay Hong, Eli Jang, Kwak Brothers, Johan Seong, Gun Park, Samuel Seo, Goo Kim, Cheon Taejin, Yujin Yoo, Baek Hangyeol, Baek Gyeol, Diego Kang/DG, Seongji Yook

cw: my opinion, purposely repeated a bunch of characters, reader is very close to the character ok!! (btw female reader but if ur a male js change the words in ur mindddd) 😭😭

unwrapped on: Friday Night, December 22 2023

wrapped up on: Saturday Morning, March 30 2024

published on: Saturday Morning, March 30 2024

“Stereotypical-First” Type of Guy

This man is an absolute sucker for romance. It’s obvious that he actually cares and that first date won’t certainly be the last. It all started off as jokes & teasing, until you two developed feelings. So, now you’re sitting with him on a picnic blanket in a secluded part of the beach and it’s around 6 in the evening. He got you a bouquet of your favorite flowers, an item you really like [books, art materials, etc.], and prepared the scene the two of you were sat at. Theres a picnic basket on the blanket, various seashells you two collected all around you two, some petals he placed in advance to set the scene— It was straight out of a movie. He lit up a candle with one of the scents you’ve mentioned was your favorite and it’s safe to say his efforts paid off. Eventually, you two went on a stroll after having a little dinner. You went around the beach and reached the ocean shore— which escalated in an innocent water fight. You guys splashed one another with water and laughed. This guy has good aim so you were really soaked while he was still mostly dry… So he made it an opportunity to give you his jacket/coat, since you were wearing a not so thick dress and got soaked in cold water.

Zack Lee, Jace Park, Jake Kim, Sinu Han, All of big deal… Daniel Park, Euntae Lee/Vasco, Johan Seong (yall went on that stroll because you ran out of food..)

“You’re the only girl i’ve ever brought to this place” Type of Guy

You’ve known this guy for years, maybe even a decade. Which is why he brought you to a place he holds close to his heart, some place he wouldn’t take anyone else whose just a fling or doesn’t matter to him to that extent. He informs the owner of the place in advance of the special someone he’s bringing to have dinner. Even the owner is shocked, as he became close friends over the years with this person— and knowing him almost as well as you do (to a certain extent), the thought of him bringing someone over, especially a girl, never would have crossed his mind in his entire life. Which is why he made sure to make everything extra special that night, not wanting to disappoint you and this guy. This guy specifically tells you that this is his favorite place, and he’s brought a very close guy friend of his or two, but has never even mentioned it to a girl. This small and cozy place is hidden in a secluded area, so you two had a romantic night. It ended with him taking you back to your place and a good night kiss. It felt surreal considering you’ve been just friends for so long who has actually had feelings for each other but never admitted until just recently, which led to this first date.

Gun Park, Samuel Seo, Warren Chae, Cheon Taejin, Yujin Yoo, DG, Baek Gyeol (where this psycho gon take you??), Kwak Jichang, Seongji Yook

“Simple & Sincere Since The Beginning” Type of Guy

This guy is simple and you stayed for that. Ever since you first met him, it was already made clear that he wasn’t the type of guy to be so outgoing and extra. He likes simple and innocent activities that you two do because it puts a smile on your face, and anything that makes you happy, makes him even happier. And knowing how much you love movies, he decided he’d go ahead and prepare the movie you’ve been dying to see for so long, so that the two of you could watch it at his place. It was just you and him, nobody else, sat down together with various snacks that he noticed you love. It didn’t matter to him what movie it was— comedy, adventure, horror, or even romance, what mattered to him was your enjoyment that night. From sneaking his arm around your waist to cuddling without you even noticing, this guy is smooth and he made good use of it. Your first date lasted for hours because you fell asleep in his arms, to which he didn’t wake you—instead, slept along with you. Some would say that it’s weird to already cuddle and fall asleep together on the first date, but you’ve been so close to this guy for so long that it’s almost as if its just another day.

Daniel Park, Zack Lee, Warren Chae, Johan Seong (he ate most of the food and even though yall got more, he devoured that too..), Kwak Jihan, Kwak Jibeom, Eli Jang, Baek Hangyeol (😭😭), Jake Kim, Sinu Han

“Flaunt You With His Money” Type of Guy

This guy is rich, he’s filthy rich. As expected from these kinds of guys, your first date is at a classy restaurant that you can’t even pronounce the name of. He picks you up from your house in one of his cars, which he made sure to choose your favorite color & the car you seemed most comfortable in. But he also made sure to choose something flashy, so that you wouldn’t be thinking of any of the other cars he owns. He’s dressed up in a suit, and this guy has plenty of them. His hair is fixed for the occasion and his fragrance is one you can’t forget because of how good it smells, but it isn’t too strong so that it won’t get to your head. He picks you up in the evening, around five. He goes up to your doorstep with a large bouquet of your favorite flowers and chocolates he knows are your favorites. He patiently waited at your door while you were putting the flowers in a vase with water, and the gifts in the refrigerator / on the counter, (because chocolates wasn’t the only gift he brought you). He made sure to be even more of a gentleman than he already is to you, opening the door for you, pulling the chair for you to sit on. And because you’re wearing a dress with little to no sleeves, he gave you his coat.

Jay Hong, Gun Park, Samuel Seo, Goo Kim, Cheon Taejin, Yujin Yoo, DG/Diego Kang, Baek Gyeol

notes: i don’t remember any of my thoughts while writing this.. except that this has been in my drafts for so long and i’ve been coming back once in a while to work on it and disappear again..

The more I assigned the characters, the more I realized I haven’t seen most of them in WEEKS. I miss them sm

- With or without proper credits, please don't try to steal or claim any of my works as your own

I genuinely appreciate opinions, feedback, likes, and reblogs

I really hope you guys like this!! so sorry for being so inactive 😭 I’m really busy and I have a bunch of drafts and requests I badly wanna work on..

[leafostuff]

A Tent for the two of us [FT. Weeekly Jihan]

tags: Fluff, huddle for warmth, classmates to lovers Words: 2.8K Author's Note: Shoutout to @octoberautumnbox, @libraryoferos and @4m1rz For Beta reading and Editing this lovely piece, I hope you will all enjoy reading this fic like I enjoyed writing this fic.

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You have to admit: you don't get the charm behind camping.

Like seriously, what is the fun of going to a forest in the middle of nowhere, having no normal food, and no reception, to add salt to the injury you have to suffer this experience with your school, which already is a pain in itself since you’re not the most popular guy in school, 

And that is not even the worst part…

“What do you mean you didn't bring a tent??” your teacher asked, her eyes looking at you with an aura of annoyance.

Even after telling your parents about the trip 2 months in advance, reminding them almost daily 2 weeks before the trip, the only thing you were able to get was a sleeping bag and a rolling mattress. However, it's not like you could have blamed them, they were so busy you are surprised that they even had the time to make you a bag for the camping trip in the first place.

“My parents thought I wouldn't need it, since we are sleeping inside a building” You tried to explain your parent’s very questionable logic, feeling your teacher's face palming inside her mind.

“For the second day! On the first day, we are sleeping in tents. Weren't they present in the Zoom meeting about the trip?” She answered and asked simultaneously. You knew your parents didn't have the time to join the Zoom meeting so you had to join the meeting on mute and with no camera.

“If it's not a problem Ms. Lee, I can sleep without a tent, my parents got me a sleeping bag and a matres-” you tried explaining as your teacher stopped you again.

“No no no no, I can't take responsibility for you, doing something like this, you can get a cold from sleeping outside,” she said, taking a deep sigh and rubbing her temples with both hands; Your situation was indeed a challenge for her to figure out. “Did you talk with any of the boys? Maybe they could share their tent with you?” she asked.

“I already asked them, and all of their tents are either too small to have two or they are already two inside of a tent,” you explain as another sigh comes from your teacher. It was already close to the lights-out hour and you didn’t have a place to sleep in, as the desperation of Ms. Lee was at its peak.

“Good night, Ms. Lee,” a girly voice was heard from behind you, looking back you see Han Jihyo, one of your classmates going toward her tent, she was already ready for sleep with her pink coloured pyjamas, but as she passed near both of you her smile turned into a worried look.

“Is everything ok? Did something happen?” the girl asked, walking near you as she joined you and your teacher’s conversation.

“Well Seungkwan forgot a tent for the trip, so he doesn't have somewhere to sleep for the first night,” Ms. Lee explained, “Right now we are trying to think of ideas of where he could sleep that won't get him sick.”

“Oh, if this is the problem, I could let you sleep in my tent Seungkwan, it has enough space for someone else besides me” Jihan exclaimed, smiling brightly. However, both you and your teacher reacted very differently to what your classmate expected.

“No no no, I can't let this happen” Ms Lee stopped Jihyo, already throwing her idea to the pretend trash can. “I can't let a boy and a girl sleep in the same tent,” she added as you were quick to join on your teacher’s side.

“Oh come on, look at me: I am wearing full pyjamas, so he won't see any private parts of my body,” she exclaimed. “And besides, I don't mind sharing a tent with a guy,” she added, reassuring your teacher.

“I agree with Ms Lee, Jihyo” You added. Your face heated from the idea “What if someone else finds me sleeping in your tent? I would be called a pervert!” you added.

“Well my tent is not close to the other girls’ tents, so they won't know you are here,” she counters your argument without any hesitation, determined to let you sleep at her tent, “And besides Ms. Lee, this is the best solution we have right now,” she added.

A minute of silence, your teacher is thinking about everything meanwhile many questions run through your head: Why is she helping you? You both never really talked at all during the school year, so offering help is very suspicious of her. You look into Jihyo’s eyes, feeling the warmth in them as you feel a bit less uncomfortable with her idea.

A loud sigh finally comes from Ms Lee as in heavy defeat she says: “Okay, Seungkwan can sleep in your tent” In reaction to this your face turned surprised while Jihyo’s face brightened up. “go bring your stuff so you can get ready to sleep, it's already lights out time” Ms Lee added as you walked toward your bags.

“Well, I guess this is happening, might as well make the most out of it”  you think to yourself, but you can’t help but notice your mouth forms a weak smile. Were you happy that she let you sleep in her tent?

~-~-~-~

Well… Jihyo’s tent was as big as she said it was.

Scratch that, it might as well be a family-sized tent with how spacious it was, having enough space for a family of 5 to comfortably rest there. “See? I told you it wasn’t a problem of space for me,” she exclaimed, a cute grin forming on her face.

“Wow, do your parents own HYBE or something?” you jokingly ask while the girl casually laughs at your comment.

“Heh, they might as well do, well let's get in, we should head to sleep,” she said as she entered as you followed her, grabbing your baggage and dragging it inside.

“So” She says through a small yawn “This is your side, you can put your bag here” Jihyo said, pointing toward the left side of the tent you obliged, letting your bag fall to let you get out your sleeping bag and mattress. “By the way, my parents brought me a big one so we can both sleep in the same one,” she added.

“It's okay, I have my mattress,” you said while getting the sleeping bag out, now attempting to take the mattress out of your bag. “I'm not that stupid to forget that” you add, looking into your bag to try and get out your mattress, after a while, you finally manage to lay your mattress out. However, when Jihyo scans it she simply shakes her head in disappointment.

“Yeah right, I'm not letting you go to sleep with that mattress, it's too thin” she explained as she leaned her hand in to take the mattress of your hand, but her hand accidentally touched yours, her entire body suddenly stiffened as she feels like she touched the inside of a freezer.

“OH GOD! And you are already so cold,” she added as she shook her hand, trying to let it get some warmth from the movement. “There is NO CHANCE you are sleeping on your mattress, you are sleeping on mine and this is final!” she adds. You realize that you do not have any way of avoiding sleeping her way, so you sigh in a sign of giving up, laying yourself on her mattress.

The first thing you feel is how surprisingly soft this mattress feels, as if a herd of sheep voluntarily shaved their wool to donate it to the mattress.

“You see? My mattress is 20 times more comfortable than yours.” She giggled, seeing how you gave in to the softness while joining you on the mattress, however instead of a sleeping bag she pulled up her blanket, covering herself around it swiftly and her eyes turned themself toward you while a weak smile was forming on her face. Feeling puzzled you ask:

“What?”

“Heh, it's nothing, it's just…we never really talked before, have we? I think we are also in the same class, however, we never really spoke before…and here you are, in the same tent as me,” she explained.

“I mean yeah, I am not sitting” a Yawn takes over your voice. “close to you in any of the classes we share, so I guess we never really had the chance to talk,” you reply, trying your best not to fall asleep. “Are you not tired? It's like 11:30 PM,” you add, yawning as you get inside your sleeping bag while turning your head to the tent’s roof.

“Not really, like I'm like sleepy, but not…Sleepy, you know what I mean?” You could simply shake your head in confusion as Jihyo continued. “Like I'm not gonna fall asleep as soon as I close my eyes,” she explained.

“Well I do, and I'm gonna try to get some sleep because I doubt I could get sleep on the bus tomorrow,” you explain, remembering how earlier today during the ride you could hear the rest of your class (including Jihyo) talking and singing so loud you couldn't get even a second in peace.

“Oh…well good night,” she says, her tone still upbeat despite the tiredness filling her face as Jihyo simply turned her head to the other side, laying on her mattress as you copy her, trying to get sleep. However, as much as you wanted the tiredness to take over your body and let you fall asleep, another feeling has captured your body instead.

“Fuck…so cold” you internalize your thoughts, covering yourself with the sleeping bag. But the cold goes through, making you shiver lightly. Way to go to the student council that decided to plan the school trip in the middle of winter,. If this trip was 2 months from today the entire school would be much happier.

Suddenly you can feel movement in the mattress; as you turn your head to see what is going on, you see your tentmate going through her backpack, looking annoyed. After a minute or so she finally finds what she is looking for. “Have this.”

The girl throws something at you, as you pick it up you see it read the word “heat pack.” “Everyone probably can hear you freezing. You should warm yourself,” Jihyo adds.

“Uhh thanks, but I don't think it’s necces-”

“No buts,” she interrupts, giving you a light smack on your head with the heat pack, “you are going to sleep with the heat pack, end of the argument,” she retorts, but even her angry face is followed with a pout that can only be described as cute, not being able to help yourself but slightly blush.

You sigh, “OK, thank you.” 

“You're welcome, now let's get some sleep,” she says, turning her head again and going back to sleep. You manage to do the same for a second or two, but now you can't help but think about the situation, realizing how the girl didn’t object that hard into sharing a tent with you, especially when you two are a boy and a girl, sleeping together in the same place.

If it wasn't for Jihyo, you would also have to sleep outside in the cold. Deep inside you were hoping someone would help you get a place to sleep in, even though on the outside you were adamant about sleeping outside, so in a sense you can say that she saved your trip by keeping you from getting sick.

In a sense she saved you.

“I do need to be thankful, right?” you rhetorically ask yourself, sighing as you slowly turn yourself. However, instead of seeing a sleeping Jihyo near you, she was fully awake, looking into your eyes.

“Can't sleep as well?” she faintly asks, and surprised by her being awake you find yourself moving backward.

“Yeah…” you simply whisper as you move closer to her again, your eyes looking at the ceiling of the tent, an awkward silence is forming between you two for a good 10 seconds or so, but it comes to an end as you mutter:

“I just wanted to say thank you…for like…you know…” Your cheeks turn a small shade of pink, slowly heating up, Jihyo in the meanwhile can't help but smile at your shyness.

“I know?” she asks, obvious that she was acting like she didn't know what you want to say You simply just take a deep breath and continue talking, throwing the awkwardness to the side.

“Thank you for letting me sleep in your tent.” You muster up the courage to say those words to your tentmate, your eyes magnetically find themself looking at hers. “And sorry if I was so against the idea before.”

“Oh it's ok Oppa, it's what friends do.” Her right-hand finds itself on your shoulder while her eyes join her mouth in forming a smile that might as well replace the heaters around your camping site, you can't help but slowly smile at her ba-.

“Wait did Jihyo just call you oppa?”  you now realize how she was calling you as your face completely turns red, you have watched enough dramas to know what happens when a girl calls a guy Oppa

It was hard for you to deny that during the school year, you both were in the same class, so it wasn't hard for to form a small crush on Jihyo. While at first, you were pretty sure that you just liked her as a friend and nothing more, as time passed you couldn't help yourself but think about her: when you were trying to listen in class, during your video game sessions where you were hyper-focused on the game (Maybe that is why you always found yourself losing focus suddenly) and to when you were ready to close your eyes.

This serene moment of both of you looking into each other's eyes finally stops when she speaks, breaking the silence in half.

“Are you still cold Oppa?” she asked, looking at the heat pack she gave you. Touching it with your finger, you could feel how it isn’t warm anymore, you can't seem to recall how much time has passed since she gave you that heat pack.

“A little bit, yeah…” you answer. “Do you have another heat pack by chance?” you ask, but in response, your tentmate shakes her head. “No this was the only one I had,” she explains You can't help but sigh, but Jihyo’s words come next manage to catch you off guard.

“I…do have another way of warming up,” she says timidly. Although it's hard to see in the dark, you seem to notice that her cheeks are painted in a red blush, and it only takes you about 5 seconds or so to finally do the 2+2 in your mind as you can't help but mentally facepalm yourself.

“Only if it’s okay by you, I don't want to make you uncomfortable” she adds, you could feel the fluster in her voice. Even though you could feel yourself getting awkward more and more after she suggested that idea, you manage to say:

“It's okay…you can go ahead” you mutter, loud enough for her to hear you. It's almost impossible not to feel a bit warmer just by the smile of the girl near you, making you do the same.

“Okay, I will need you to come closer” she explains as you oblige, nudging close toward her enough that there is close to no space between the both of you. You can feel how her arms slowly but surely wrap around your body, you simply let yourself fall into her embrace, putting your hands around her back as well as you are now essentially cuddling together.

“Is it better?” she whispers to you, nodding in response. “Great” she yawned quietly. “mmm… you don't mind if I…” She closes her eyes and you feel the left side of the face resting itself on your chest. You could feel how soft her cheeks were as if there were giant marshmallows with how fluffy they were.

You giggle slightly at how cute Jihyo looks in your arms; when she was speaking to you before she looked confident, but now you can feel how deep inside when you know her she just becomes a soft, precious being, something that you must protect.

It's hard for you to stay awake so slowly you start closing your eyes as well, but before you fall fully asleep you mutter some words that you had no control over, in reaction your tentmate seems to giggle cutely.

“Hehe…I like you too oppa,” she says as well, eyes still closed as you both finally fall asleep, letting yourself get lost in your dreams, but in the newfound warmth of each other.

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Wow, a long Jihan fic...i am very proud of it, i hope you enjoyed reading this fic, again feel free to send asks in the Inbox.

I will see you all next time Leafies

[keep-wonwooing]

Hey, everyone! I am also a wattpad writer and am currently writing three stories (ongoing). I'm more active on wattpad than tumblr. If you're a Filipino reader, i hope you'll support my story! ♡

It is supposed to be a leader line, but i thought, why not use jihan as the main characters? 🤔

If you have any reco or any opinion, just tell me in my inbox!

WATTPAD ACCOUNT: yqsora

Ashes of Thirteen series:

Series #1 — Between Guns & Flour

Series #2 — The Devil's Purchase (poly)

Series #3 — His broken Swan

[svtellify]

another offering for the gyuhanists (but also the haoshua-ists, and soonjun-ists):

unholy triptych of my sweet uncareful friends

excerpt:“Don’t think I was sitting around waiting for your call,” the voice calls out immediately.

The edges of Mingyu’s lips curl at a smile, exposing the tip of his canines. “You picked up too fast for that, Jeonghan-ssi.”

A huff. “Fine, sue me for thinking you would consider this. It’s insane, I know.”

Mingyu shrugs, belatedly remembering that Jeonghan can’t see him. “Maybe. Haven’t you been feeling a little insane lately?”

or; the Carat is more than twice the Cullinan and the race to be the first to successfully steal it is tight. Jeonghan couldn't care less about the diamond⎯all he wants is revenge.

read it here!

[hrts4wonu]

announcement!

hey there, cory here; i just wanted to say that i accept any kinds of fanfic requests. I am more than happy to write kpop smut, fluff and angst fanfic for anyone that wants their imagination to happen!!

dont worry, you don't need to pay for these or anything. I do them for free and for fun!!

upcoming fanfics:

smut fanfics //

"she's bad, indeed" || jihan x afab!reader, smut, three some, teasing, dom!jihan, physical therapist jeonghan, gym instructor joshua!!

"tough love" || kazuha x college-afab!reader, smut, nsfw 18+, genshin, dom!kazuha, name calling, first time

"drinks and sex" ft. joshua hong || dino x college-afab!reader, smut, angst, mentions of svicide, depressed, reader has ocd.

"the8 and 8 minutes" || minghao x reader, fluff, make out sesh, slight smut, cliffhanger, part 1, player!minghao, 1st time together

"a dove's poetry" || minghao x reader, smut, poetry-like, smut, unprotected sex, bedroom sex, name calling, etc.

fluff fanfics //

"three stars" ft. jeonghan || joshua x reader, childhood friends, fluff, tint of angst in the story, cute n snuggly

"my angel" || jeonghan x reader, childhood friends, fluff, dating, kissing (only small scenes), really long, part 1?

"red lips" || scoups / seungcheol x carat-friend!reader, childhood friends, fluff, concerned!coups, name calling (angel, cutie, etc)

all for now!!

[fairyhaos]

@weird-bookworm (tagging u instead of rbing bc i think u added the tags to the messed up post b4 i edited it 😭)

◈ adorable and insufferable // joshua hong

joshua x gn!reader, 1.5k+ words

tags: sick fic, fluff, crack, established relationship, joshua makes small snuffly bunny noises when he's sick

warnings: food mention at the end

notes: for his birthday present, i give him a cold. as you can see, i love him very much.

Your boyfriend is sick.

He is, also, an absolutely terrible liar.

That leads you to the situation right now, where you’ve cornered Joshua in the kitchen, hands on your hips, a bunny headband pushing your hair back, and it’s not the most intimidating sight but Joshua gulps all the same, eyes darting around the kitchen nervously.

He’s looking for an escape route. You can see it in his eyes, clear as day, so you step even closer, voice dangerously calm as you speak.

“No, keep your eyes on me,” you say, face set into an angry frown. “Shua.”

Joshua looks at you, and tries not to breathe too weirdly. “Um. Y/N?”

You look him up and down, and then slowly fold your arms. “Shua,” you say again. “Are you sick?”

He blinks rapidly, and then has to stop, because it makes his head feel all woozy. “No?” he tries, and then coughs a little. He’ll claim it was out of nervousness, because you look kind of terrifying right now, but your eyes immediately widen at the sound, and he knows he’s busted.

“You are!” Instantly, you lunge for him as he tries to dive past you and escape this interrogation. “Joshua, come back! You’re sick!”

“I’m not! I’m not, I swear I’m not,” he insists, trying to pull away from the iron grip you’ve clasped around his wrist. Resistance is futile, though. You’re not letting him go, now that him and his wellbeing are involved. “Y/N, baby, please, I’m totally fine.”

“No you’re not,” you say firmly, and then begin dragging your whining boyfriend out the kitchen and towards the stairs. 

“I—” He sneezes, then, a loud and wet sneeze that scrapes at his throat and makes his eyes water, and he pauses, shocked. He sniffles, rubbing his nose. “Okay. Maybe I am.”

You shake your head, partly exasperated, partly fond, and continue pulling Joshua up the stairs.

He’s been shuffling around the house looking mildly ill all day, and you’ve been waiting for the right moment to pounce on him and get him up to bed. Because Joshua, when he gets sick, utterly refuses to give in and accept that he’s coming down with something, always waiting until the last moment to finally admit defeat to whatever illness has plagued him this time.

By the time you’re opening the bedroom door and ushering Joshua inside, he’s looking considerably worse than before, face all flushed and eyes watering from the sudden coughing fit he had while coming up the stairs.

“Come on, baby,” you coax, tucking him into bed. You press a hand to his forehead, a little alarmed and a little amused by how quickly he managed to look severely ill during the short walk upstairs. “Sleep.”

“I can still function, you know,” he insists as you pull the covers over him. “I can—I can do things.”

“I’d rather you not,” you say, smoothing down his hair and tucking away a few stray strands. You shake your head in faux disappointment. “I knew you’d get sick from all those days where you went out wearing all those thin layers in winter. What were you thinking?”

Joshua huffs petulantly. “It’s called fashion.”

“It’s called making yourself sick,” you return, and then chuckle at his pout. Leaning down, you press a quick kiss to his forehead, brushing a finger over his cheek fondly. “Now sleep. You’re going to feel way worse tomorrow if you don’t.”

He grumbles, but there’s a small smile on his face as he bids you goodbye and asks you to shut the door properly on the way out.

───────────── 💗

Your boyfriend is very, very self-sufficient. He tries not to bother other people with his struggles and his concerns, but he’s also very terrible at hiding it away when someone asks him directly if everything’s okay.

He’s also really weak in the face of attention.

Which means that while he’s very self-sufficient, the moment you notice he’s unwell and call him out on it, he melts instantly and gets taken over by his sickness so quickly that it surprises you every time.

Slowly, you creak open the bedroom door, peering inside to see Joshua staring blankly up at the ceiling. His head snaps towards you as you walk across the room, but his eyes are all glassy.

“Y/N?” he murmurs, and all he’s said is your name but it’s like he’s speaking through a ball of cotton. 

“Yes, it’s me,” you say, smiling a little, because his eyes positively shine when you confirm it. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you place a damp towel over his forehead, feeling his cheek with the back of your hand, and wince a little at how warm he is. “Goodness me, Shua, you’re burning up.”

“No, I’m not,” he murmurs. “You’re burning up.”

You smile a little, pinching his cheek lightly. “If you were this sick, then why didn’t you say anything, hm? You should’ve told me earlier.”

“I’m not that sick. I can still do stuff,” he says, eyes falling shut just slightly as you begin stroking his hair, a relaxing movement. “Hey, hey, Y/N, watch this.”

“Hm?” You stop stroking his hair, sitting back and waiting patiently. 

There’s a long silence, and then Joshua cracks an eye open to look at you. He looks expectant—well, as expectant as a person with an extremely high fever can look—but when you don’t say anything, a small frown creases his brow.

“Didn’t you see it?”

“See what, baby?”

“The cartwheels. I did cartwheels.”

The statement is so absurd that you think he’s joking, but his face is set into such a serious pout that you can’t help but laugh a little, because there's something about fever-drowsed Joshua that is so adorable.

“You didn’t do any cartwheels, baby,” you say gently, and go back to stroking his hair. “You didn’t even get up.”

Joshua frowns, the pout deepening. “Oh.” His eyes close, and then open again. “I did them in my head, though. I’m sure I did.”

Cute, you think helplessly, unable to stop the smile spreading across the face. “Okay.” You kiss his nose. “I believe you. But I’m gonna go get you something to drink and eat, and then you’re gonna meds, okay?”

He makes a small noise of discontent when you get up, and then coughs, giving a pathetic sniffle like a sad little bunny, and you almost want to just stay next to him and never leave his side.

“You’re gonna need to take the meds to get better faster,” you say at the door. “I’ll be back soon, promise. Wait here.”

Joshua makes that sad noise again, but he watches you go. “Okay,” he says, all mumbly. “I promise not to cartwheel away.”

You laugh a little, because good lord, he’s so adorable. “Okay. I’m trusting you, alright?”

“Mhm.”

You close the door and walk down the stairs, shaking your head fondly.

───────────── 💗

It’s only several days later that his fever finally lets up, and he’s well enough to walk around the house once more. You wake up to Joshua in the kitchen, a blanket around his frame, making pancakes.

“Baby?” you ask, rubbing your eyes and yawning. “What are you doing?”

Joshua turns to you, and then grins, eyes crinkling fondly. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says, and deposits the last pancake onto a plate. “I’m making you breakfast, of course. Here. Eat up. Want some french toast too?”

“Wh—huh?” you say, incredibly intelligently, slowly sliding into the seat that, like the gentleman he is, Joshua had pulled out for you. “Why?”

“It’s a thank-you present, obviously,” Joshua says, as he busies himself making french toast. As if the pancakes and spread of fresh fruit and waffles (he cooked waffles too?) aren’t enough. “I’ve been insufferable over the past few days.”

You chuckle a little, thinking of Joshua insisting he can do cartwheels while you try to spoon feed him soup. “Yeah, you have. But I didn’t mind. You’re my boyfriend. Of course I’m gonna put up with you.”

Joshua laughs. “Thank you, Y/N. What would I do without you?”

“You’d be dead without me,” you say, incredibly seriously, and it makes Joshua laugh again. His eyes are still a little puffed up, but he beams at you, all full of life, and it makes you grin too.

“You’re totally right,” he says, and leans over to peck you on the cheek. “I love you.”

You smile, taking hold of his chin and bringing him down to press a longer kiss to his lips. “I love you more.”

Joshua quirks a grin at that, kissing your forehead for good measure before going back to the bread. “Let’s not start that argument again. Eat your pancakes, sweetheart, before they get cold.”

You look over at him as he busies himself making yet more food, and it makes you a little dizzy, really, just how much Joshua loves you. And how much you love him in return. Even when he’s doing cartwheels in his head and insisting he’s doing them in real life.

“Hey, now you’re all better, you can do those cartwheels you kept wanting to do.”

“Really? Should I?”

“Yeah! I bet I can do them better though.”

“Oh, you’re on.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @evasaysstuff @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @sakufilms @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @amxlia-stars @raevyng @isabellah29

[seyoungparkk]

SEVENTEEN FIC RECS

Tags: f - fluff, a - angst, s - smut, ❤️ - personal favourite

Seventeen

Imprinted Series - s,f,a

@viastro 's Masterlist - ❤️

In pursuit of wedded bliss - f,a ❤️

13 reasons why - f,a

@starlightxsvt 's Masterlist - ❤️

SVT Reaction to yelling at you for the first time/saying something hurtful pt1. pt2. - a

Choi Seungcheol

"S" on My Chest, 'Cause I'm Ready to Save Him - s,a

Withering for you - s,f,a ❤️

Kidult - f,a

Adore u - f,a

Under the moonlight - f

My last - f,a

In this life - f,a

Hello tutorial - f

The great war - f,a,s

Inflection Point(JeongCheol) - f,a,s ❤️

Read all about it - f,a

Yoon Jeonghan

Don't worry, for our souls are forever intertwined (JiHan) - f,a

8.07 - a

How many times does it take to get smarter? - f,a,s (Part 1)

How many chances are too many chances? - f,a,s (Part 2)

Just one day - f,a

Our dawn is hotter than day - f

Velvet varnish - f,a,s

Love café - f,a,s

We got along infamously verse - f,a,s

Holidate - f,a,s ❤️

I know, but don't say it - f,a (Part 1)

I don't want to tell you that anymore - f,a (Part 2)

twenty two days before we go our separate ways (twenty two days of not falling for you) - f,a ❤️

Lovin' me - f,a,s

Perfect misery (GyuHan) - a ❤️

Inflection Point (JeongCheol) - f,a,s ❤️

Illicit Affairs - f,a,s

One Shot/One Song #3 - a

Kidult - f,a ❤️

Of rainy nights and roses - f,a ❤️

Hong Jisoo

Don't worry, for our souls are forever intertwined (JiHan) - f,a

Why won't you love me - f,a

My favourite person - f,a

When you spoke to me - f,a

Fine line - f,a,s

Anonymously Yours - f,a ❤️

bad girls make good boys cry - f,s ❤️

Wen Junhui

melomanie - f,a

Stupid cupid -f,s

I don't understand but I love u - f,a

Would you like a receipt? - f,a

Kwon Soonyoung

Caller #17 - f,a

This Love - f,a

Jeon Wonwoo

All too well - f,a

Hi, Wonwoo - f,a ❤️

Until my lips turn blue - f,a

Sucker (for you) - f

I found love in your smile - f,a ❤️

Grease (The tragedy) - f,a,s

Lee Jihoon

Mr Lee's wingmen - f

Jihoon's puppy - f,a

Something about you - f,a,s

Crawling back to you - f,a,s

Xu Minghao

The letter - f,a ❤️

Now or never - f,a,s ❤️

Fixer upper - f,a,s

Kim Mingyu

Even when we're drown, we're still breathing - f,a

Birthday boy - f

May flowers - f,s ❤️

Make yourself at home - f,a

Just try - a

Drift Away - f,a,s ❤️

His smile - f,s

Love me out loud - f,a

Hallmark Moment - f,a,s

Perfect misery (GyuHan) - a

My daisy - f,a ❤️

Honeyboy - f,a,s ❤️

Lee Seokmin

Love scene - f,s

Boo Seungkwan

Destiny - a

Kind of love - f,a

Choi Hansol

Work husband - f

'Cause I still get nervous - f,a

Lee Chan

Run to you - f,a

Tinder (gone wrong) - f

The road not taken - f,a

Promise ring - f,a ❤️

Pansy - f,a ❤️

[100vern]

how to cancel your faustian bargain | wjh

FAUSTIAN BARGAIN 🔥 a pact whereby a person trades something of supreme moral or spiritual importance, such as personal values or the soul, for some worldly or material benefit, such as knowledge, power, or riches. faustian bargains are by their nature tragic or self-defeating for the person who makes them, because what is surrendered is ultimately far more valuable than what is obtained.

pairing: attorney!junhui x devil!reader genre: (very lite) enemies to lovers, lawyer au; crack, fluff, smut summary: as the devil, you’re more than happy to grant favors in exchange for someone’s soul, and you’re known for having the most iron-clad contracts around. which is why wen junhui—the scene’s newest contract attorney hell-bent on returning all those souls you’ve acquired—is really starting to piss you off. rating: explicit. minors do not interact with this or any of my work. warnings: member pov, reader is thee devil so needless to say there is a bunch of religious themes and topics here (as a person whose roman-catholic grandfather temporarily disowned her for stopping ccd classes i am qualified to write this dw), jihan as literal devil's advocates, hoshi as a shit-stirring angel who wears questionable shirts, i am the opposite of jovan and do not know the law (especially hell law), i also blocked out most catholicism so don't take any of this for canon, god is genderless and the devil is a sympathetic character sue me, alcohol use, low self-esteem/self-doubt, open but optimistic ending. smut warnings: kissing, mentions of a handjob (actually a major plot point), an actual handjob, oral sex (both receiving), some scratching/marking and biting, jun kinda likes/yearns for pain but it's not a whole thing, light nipple play, fingering, unprotected penetrative sex, everyone orgasms, jun is down bad. in general it's probably much softer than sex with the devil would usually be? wordcount: 22k credits: jess (@starlightkyeom) and bee (@imnotshua) for reading this along the way, beta'ing, and suggesting stupid hoshi shirts. mj (@kkaetnipjeon) and jade (@eoieopda) for helping me with law stuff. everyone in the c&e server who helped me along the way — i yapped so much about this fic that i cannot remember everyone. i am sorry but i love you. note: this somehow wound up being my longest oneshot to date. i don't know how and i still feel like there are parts not fleshed out enough, but big shoutout to my adderall for getting us here. wen junhui, you are a strange little man; i had a blast writing you. this was written for the don't hate, litigate! collab, hosted by @haologram. thank you so much for letting me participate!

The thing is, Wen Junhui is not really supposed to be here.

Not, like, literally here—sitting across from you, the literal devil, at your desk, ass burning a little because it’s really hot here and he is, admittedly, not used to the heat—but metaphorically. Big picture-ly. This is not how I envisioned my life turning out…ly.

The thing is, Wen Junhui barely made it through law school. Barely passed his licensing exam. Watched his classmates score prestigious internships and receive exclusive offers and network and schmooze and, he thought at the time, all but sell their soul to graduate with jaw-dropping salaries awaiting them and no debt.

And it fucking sucked watching that, because he was about to become a lawyer, sure, but he’d gotten scarlet fever as a kid, swore he was going to die, swore he saw not only the light but Jesus himself (his mother called this a delusion, still insists to this day the prodigal son did not travel all the way to Shenzhen to visit him), and decided if he survived he was going to dedicate his life to the church and become a priest.

(He only decided on law school after he got a little carried away with his high school girlfriend, received an honestly mid handjob that had him crying for three straight days and contemplating confession before he decided to take it to his grave, and he’d announced the next night at dinner, weighed down by an impressive amount of guilt and religious trauma, that he was just going to go to university and major in business or finance instead.)

Anyway. Turns out that whole selling their soul thing wasn’t a joke, and where others would’ve seen a loophole, Wen Junhui had seen an opportunity.

Because he didn’t have the grades. Didn’t have the family name or even the drive, because in another life he’s at least a deacon, so he had to do something. Had to think outside the box, get a little creative, carve out a niche for himself that none of his classmates would also be trying to occupy because he had student loans.

“How did you even get in here?” you ask, doing one of those really cool pen flips Jun has never figured out how to do. “A human hasn’t just strolled into my office in at least a millennia.”

Jun swallows, tries not to let show how nervous he is. “I, uh—I’m not sure? I sort of just… walked in, I guess.”

You blink. Study him for a while, eyes narrowed, before you make a small ah! sound and snap your fingers. What the heck? Jun can’t do that, either. “I know who you are now.”

“You do?”

“Mmhm, sure do. You were pretty famous around here for about thirteen seconds when you got that handjob and changed the trajectory of your own life forever. Some of the lower demons had bet money on you eventually becoming the Pope, so you can imagine their heartbreak… and the amount of coin they lost.” You click your tongue, return your attention to the scroll in front of you. “I kept telling them not to bet on that kind of stuff. Teenagers are wildly unpredictable, especially hormonal teenage boys. One of my finest creations, if I do say so myself.”

Not that he had any expectation of privacy here, but to say he’s mortified would be an understatement.

“Oh. That’s… really embarrassing.”

You nod, distracted as you press a large red button on your desk. “Yeah, I imagine for you it would be.”

Two men immediately materialize on each side of you. One is all cheekbones and sharp, calculating edges. Looks like the personification of mischief or perhaps temptation. After that handjob and the subsequent mourning period, Jun had come to really, really appreciate women, but he’s secure enough in his sexuality to acknowledge that the man in front of him—with his long, dark hair and lithe figure; his nonchalant, blasé attitude—is very attractive.

And the other one is no slouch, either. Has what Jun presumes is meant to be a friendlier disposition, a foil of the other man, good-cop-bad-cop, and they must be quite successful, he figures. Can’t imagine a world in which there’s anything that’d be denied to either of them.

Still, they’re well-acquainted with you, because they barely blink as you say, “Please say hello to our intruder,” with a frightening amount of bite.

The dark-haired one offers up a sleazy grin as he leans back against the wall. “Hello, intruder. Do you have a name?”

It’s a predictable question, and yet Jun still startles. Goes slack-jawed as he fixes his posture, sits straighter in his seat. Has the first syllable of his name sitting on the tip of his tongue when the other man sighs and gestures for Jun to stay quiet. “Don’t tell him your name. Better yet, don’t tell him anything, just pretend he doesn’t exist.”

“That’s rich coming from a person who chose to call themselves Joshua.”

Joshua pouts. “I thought there was something to be said for the irony.” A snort tumbles out of him, and Jun realizes that he is not the foil of the other man: he is, in fact, just as impish and rogue. “God is deliverance.” The dark-haired one does not react. “Aw, c’mon, it’s funny!”

“If you have to convince someone it’s funny, it probably is not so.”

Joshua rolls his eyes. “Alright, Jeonghan. As if you didn’t do the same thing.”

“At least when I strive to be ironic, it actually is humorous—”

With an exasperated sigh, you return your attention to Jun, who has suddenly found a fascinating piece of lint on his trousers. Pointedly does not make eye contact with you, because you had been intimidating and hellacious on your own—and, he’s a little flustered to admit, very attractive—but he’s extremely out of his element sitting across from the literal devil and two demons.

“So, Wen Junhui,” you say, tossing a pair of reading glasses onto your desk, “why are you here?”

(“Wen Junhui?” Joshua whispers to Jeonghan. “As in the Wen Junhui that got the handjob?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” Jeonghan whispers back.)

And now it all feels a bit silly, because Jun had walked straight into Hell thinking he’d be able to… what, exactly? Strike up a friendly conversation? Start making demands? Cut a deal that didn’t include handing over his mortal soul?

Maybe the whole becoming a priest thing hadn’t worked out but he’d still learned a thing or two, and he remembers all the words used to describe you, your original purpose. Meant to reflect God’s glory, anointed, given the highest seat at the table. They’d blamed your downfall on pride, on vanity and violence, and Wen Junhui from Shenzhen, China, who once had scarlet fever and got a bad handjob, was a fool to come here and think he could go toe-to-toe with you.

Overcome with nerves, all he can do is laugh as he toys with the hair at the nape of his neck. Considers saying something like you’re gonna think this is so silly before he decides against it. You’ve been accused of having a sense of humor, but Jun can’t imagine this harebrained scheme of his would make the cut.

Still—he wouldn’t be where he is if the bad ideas sitting on his shoulder had kept quiet, and they’re still whispering to him now, reminding him how he wound up here to begin with: less fortunate than his classmates, less connected, looked over for all those internships and opportunities because he wasn’t born with the proper credentials. Those god-forsaken student loans. Desperation forced him to do this, and it’d be a real shame if he got this far only to give up at the last second, wouldn’t it?

So, he does what he did best all those years of law school: he fakes it.

“Let’s say I’m interested in… a partnership, of sorts.”

Jeonghan and Joshua share a look.

“Ah,” you reply, hands folded in front of you. “And what kind of partnership would that be?”

Let no man (or demon) ever accuse Wen Junhui of doing things half-assed, because he’s doing a concerning amount of oversharing and trauma-dumping before he can talk himself out of it. Spills all the highs and lows of his twenty-odd years, including his infamous handjob, much to Joshua and Jeonghan’s delight. They listen with rapt attention, elbowing one another as they gleefully press him for more details, and to their credit they only interrupt him once with lewd gestures before they’re slapping at and falling over one another with laughter.

He gets to his time in law school. Talks about feeling lapped by his classmates and all the advantages they’d been given, the benefits that weren’t on offer for someone like him: the oldest son of a piano teacher and a seamstress. Someone who showed up to class with a worn leather bag (repaired weekly by his mother) and secondhand books yellowing at the edges. Someone who spent his Friday nights and weekends holed up in his dorm room, not invited to parties and mixers.

“I had to do my first internship in personal injury,” he says, arms gesticulating wildly. “No one wanted those internships, and do you know why?” He pauses for dramatic effect. Jeonghan mimics a sound that sounds like game show countdown music. “Those pictures were gross.”

“Tragic,” you deadpan.

“It was,” Jun insists. He’s starting to feel fidgety. Has no idea how his plight is being received. “It wasn’t paid, either, and I had to take out student loans.”

Joshua beams. “Her second best invention.”

“What?” Jeonghan retorts, brows pinching in the middle. “No way, second-best is definitely cocaine—”

From you comes an exaggerated, long-suffering sigh, and Jeonghan and Joshua immediately cease their bickering. You turn your attention to Jun, and if he’d been able to trick himself into thinking a glimmer of patience or good humor or—god forbid—genuine affection had been visible before, no such delusions are available now. Your face is stern, the pupils of your eyes reflecting flames behind him that don’t exist, and the corners of your mouth are tugged severely downward.

He swallows hard.

“Wen Junhui, get to the point. Your human skin is starting to stink up my office.”

Subtly, he tries to sneak a sniff of his armpit. It’s not mountain fresh, but he’s certainly smelled worse, and he thinks he deserves a little leeway as his body acclimates to such extreme temperatures. He then crosses one leg over the other, ankle on thigh, and leans forward on his elbows. Tries to project some—any—amount of authority and confidence as he says, “I need a niche. Something just for me; something none of my classmates are going after.”

“Because you’re unable to compete with them,” you tack on. Unnecessarily and rudely, in Jun’s opinion, but he nods anyway. Behind you, Jeonghan and Joshua are once again elbowing one another, giddy at Jun’s impending failure while desperately trying to keep their expressions neutral. “Let me guess: you want the same deal?” You begin rifling through a drawer in your desk. “I think I still have all those contracts around here somewhere, so I’m sure I can get you something similar, but if we’re being honest you’re worth a good bit more.”

Jun blinks. “I’m sorry?”

“What part are you having trouble with?” you ask, still sorting through files. Only the top of your head is visible over the ledge of your African blackwood desk.

No horns, Jun notes. He was so sure you were going to have horns.

“Er, both, to be honest. What do you mean I’m ‘worth more’?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes before slamming his palms onto your desk, causing Jun to startle. Just for fun. “Hey, moron, were you not listening when she told you earlier that you were supposed to be the goddamn Pope?”

“You weren’t even here when she said that,” Jun mumbles, every bit the moron Jeonghan accused him of being, because it’s far easier than acknowledging… well, the entirety of that statement.

Does the Pope get a salary? If he does, surely it’s more than Jun’s making now—

“He doesn’t,” Joshua says. Then clarifies, “Get a salary. Just some coins. A woefully underpaid position, if you ask me, considering how many babies he has to kiss.” He shudders. “Disgusting! When you could just eat them instead!”

Aside from the whole eating babies thing, Jun can’t really disagree. Only a handful of coins for being in charge of all of Catholicism and having to know Latin? And having to live in Italy?

“Also,” Joshua continues, “it’s kind of our job to know everything that goes on down here, so we did, in fact, know she told you that you were supposed to be the Pope.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “And yet he became a lawyer. Imagine if Fibonacci had done the same—the eighth circle would be so boring.”

“Boniface,” Jun corrects him, immediately shutting trap at the look the three of you send his way. “He’s really in the eighth circle? I thought Dante just said that because he was upset about the exile.”

Upset is underselling it, Joshua mumbles. Looks like he wants to say more but has enough sense not to. Beside him, Jeonghan is once again rolling his eyes, growing more perturbed and borderline-homicidal in Jun’s proximity by the second.

Does he really smell that bad? Should he wear cologne next time? Is there a particular note those in the Underworld find appealing? Because Jun doesn’t mind tracking it down. He’s here on your turf asking for a favor, after all, so it’d be basic manners to smell nice and not stink up the place.

He’s about to ask when a booming sound of acknowledgement comes from you. A sly grin sits lopsided on your face as you toss a manila folder onto your desk, so thick a yellowing rubber band struggles to fit around it once. “This is you, Wen Junhui,” you say, pushing it closer to Jun.

All he can do is stare. Feels like his heart is going to pound right out of his chest, and he can’t pinpoint why, doesn’t know what’s got him so uneasy. He doesn’t have to look at it to know his entire life is in that file—perhaps even the before and the after. All the possibilities, all the could-have-beens. The consequences of him going right at the fork in the road instead of taking the left. Endless, and he finally realizes the boulder sitting on his chest is dread: existential variety.

“It’s, uh.” He licks at his lips. “It’s really big,” he finally says, feeling stupid and embarrassed at the way his voice trembles.

“Aish, this fucking kid,” Jeonghan grouses at the same time Joshua snickers and wonders aloud, “Do you think that’s what that girl said when he got the handjob?”

You press the red button again and Jeonghan and Joshua disappear without a word.

“Even in the lowest pits of Hell you must still suffer the displeasure of men,” you say, as if you’re imparting ancient wisdom upon Jun. “I must admit I’ve grown quite familiar with your file.”

“Manila,” Jun replies, also as if he’s being extremely wise. “Didn’t expect to see that around here.”

“Yes, well, the cheap ones are great for papercuts.” You pause and your demeanor grows serious, belying the importance of what you’re about to say. “You’re one of a select few, Wen Junhui. Not many files that come across my desk are this size.”

Pride swells in his chest, booting that existential boulder to the curb. “Oh,” he says, trying desperately to tamper down his excitement. “Yay!”

He does a little wiggle. Mortifying.

“Something you said earlier stuck out to me—something about certain things not being on offer for someone like you.” Your eyes meet Jun’s, and it suddenly feels like he’s been catapulted off the edge of the world. “I don’t think you realize just how much is on offer for someone like you.”

Jun swallows hard. Tries to, anyway—finds that his mouth has gone bone dry. His limbs, too, refuse to work, feel both heavy and weightless, and he’s anxious again, hands and feet saturated with sweat, no wonder he smells, and he knows, he knows, he knows who and what you are, knows this is a trick. Knows he’s offered himself up on a silver platter.

Good god, he came here willingly. No wonder Jeonghan kept calling him names.

“So,” you begin, moving your glasses to the top of your head, “what is it you want? You’re in an elite tier; I could give you almost anything you ask for.”

“Um—”

“You mentioned loans; is it money you want? You’re not quite qualified for billionaire level yet, but I think you’d find both the terms and the offered amount to be quite… agreeable.”

Oh, you’re good. Just as he had with the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, Jun always thought the story of Adam and Eve was simple: don’t do the thing you’re explicitly told not to do. But now, seated across from Temptation itself, he understands it’s not that simple, that those two never stood a chance. Because the longer he’s silent, the more relaxed he starts to feel. That headache he’s been fighting off for three days finally starts to recede. He feels confident and a bit euphoric, but he supposes everyone would feel that way if they were being offered any and everything they could ever want.

“Actually…”

Wen Junhui isn’t very religious anymore, but he used to be. Used to believe in all the teachings; used to sit at the piano in the living room and hum along as his father played processionals; used to beg his mother to read from the Studium Biblicum at bedtime so he could fall asleep and dream of utopia.

Wen Junhui isn’t religious anymore, but he remembers the basics.

Enough to steel his voice and say, “Actually, I didn’t come here to talk about money.”

Jun doesn’t know what time it is.

It’s late enough that the city has gone mostly quiet. The buses have stopped running, the elevator just outside his door hasn’t dinged in a while, and the light that’s refracted onto his bedroom ceiling is a familiar shade of blue-silver. Not long after two a.m. if he had to guess.

He doesn’t know how he got back to his apartment, either, which would’ve been the more pressing issue at any other time.

But he’s had a long day. Took a little trip to Hell, got laughed at, got offered a lot of money, and got laughed at again. Now he’s got the anxiety shakes. Keeps seeing figures in every shadow. Can’t sleep even though every part of his body is bogged down by exhaustion. All he can do is stare at the swirls in the ceiling plaster and be glad he doesn’t have to work for another two days.

At first, he thinks the knocking is on someone else’s door. Then, once it doesn’t cease, he chalks it up to hallucination. It’s only once it goes from hey, I’m here! to OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR RIGHT GODDAMN NOW does he stumble out of bed and through the living room.

Through the peephole, all that stares back at him are the dingy fluorescent lights of the hallway.

“You know, judging by the outside, I thought this place was gonna be a real shithole, but it’s not that bad.” Jun shrieks, collapses to the floor with his hand clawing at his chest. “Oops, sorry, dude. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

There is a man in his apartment.

There is a man in his apartment. At two o’clock in the morning.

“Wh-who are you?” he stammers out, eyes squeezed shut as if it’ll protect him. “I do-don’t have any mo-money.”

The man scoffs. If Jun was looking, he assumes it was accompanied by an eye-roll. “Not to be rude, but I was able to ascertain that, yeah.”

Jun peeks one eye open. Before him stands a man of average height, looks to be early to mid 20s. He’s wearing gray sweatpants and a black hoodie that says FEMALE BODY INSPECTOR in large white lettering. His hat, which is so neon pink it seems to glow, simply says SWAG.

He opens his other eye and quirks an eyebrow. “Are you a demon?”

“Ew, no.”

“What are you, then?”

The man pouts. “You can’t tell by my extremely good looks and”—he pauses, clears his throat like he’s trying to remember something—“awesome sauce fashion?”

“I—no, sorry. Also, your what?”

“I’m an angel,” the angel says quickly before he starts digging through his pockets. “Do people not say awesome sauce anymore?” Jun shakes his head. The angel pulls a pen out of nowhere and strikes out something in a notebook. “What year is it?”

“Er, 2024. Almost 2025.”

“What year did people stop saying awesome sauce?”

“I don’t know,” Jun says. “Do you have a name?”

The angel sighs, the pen and notebook both blink out of existence. “Hoshi,” the angel replies. “It means star, which I am. By the way.”

“Okay. May I ask why you’re in my apartment?”

“You ask a lot of questions. You got anything to drink?”

“I don’t remember any angels named Hoshi in the Bible.”

“It’s my Earth name.” Hoshi flutters his eyelashes. “Suits me, right?”

Jun’s eyes narrow. “You also aren’t biblically-accurate.”

Hoshi scoffs, hands immediately finding the waistband of his sweatpants. “I am where it counts.” He starts to pull them down, much to Jun’s horror, and all he can think is, oh my god I’m about to see an angel’s penis, what’s the protocol for this, do I have to look at it, would it be rude not to, this is the weirdest day of my life, I must be in a medically-induced coma—

“I’m getting the impression you don’t really want to see my dick.”

Jun covers his eyes again. “I don’t!”

“Bummer. I’m gonna summon a Baja Blast, do you want one?”

“I—no, no thank you. I think I just—I really need to sleep? But I’m not tired? It’s been a long day and I’m still not one-hundred percent sure I’m not hallucinating all of this.”

Hoshi snaps his fingers and a garishly blue bottle of soda appears in his hand. He beams. “Trade offer: I help you sleep and you take me out for breakfast when you wake up. We have a lot to talk about.”

“You’re just gonna… hang out here? In my apartment?”

“Yes,” Hoshi confirms. “I’m going to look through all your stuff.”

Jun wants to say no. He should say no. Has half a mind to consider Hoshi is lying about being an angel and is instead another demon sent by you from Hell to keep tabs on him, but his aura is different—less… oppressive—so he gives in and nods.

He’s asleep within seconds.

It’s only a few hours later when he stirs awake. Sunlight streams in through the curtains, and the sounds of the city are drowned out by birdsong. Jun feels more rested and weightless than he has in years, and it allows him to wake slowly, recount the events of the past 24 hours and take stock of his body, how he’s feeling. Do some breathing exercises. Briefly contemplate if he has now twice altered the trajectory of his life for the worst.

“Get up!” someone yells from his living room. Right, the angel guy. “I want waffles and the diner stops serving breakfast in thirty minutes!”

Jun stares blankly at the ceiling. There’s no diner anywhere near him that serves American breakfast, but he assumes that isn’t going to stop Hoshi, who has no concept or time or space and no constraints on either.

Thirty minutes later, they’re sitting across from one another in a retro American-style diner.

“Where are we?” Jun asks, peering outside the large window to his right. All the cars are American makes; the walls look like they're made out of silver; all the signs are in English. He doesn’t have to ask why he can understand them. “Besides America. I’m gathering as much.”

Hoshi pours an entire sugar packet in his mouth and grins. “New Jersey. They have more diners than any other state in America, and some are even open 24 hours! It’s my favorite place on Earth.”

“Okay,” Jun acquiesces. What else is he going to do? He’s never been to America before, let alone New Jersey. “What do I order? I don’t know what any of this stuff is.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll order for you.”

Famous last words.

Whatever Hoshi had ordered for him has more sugar in one bite than Jun usually eats in an entire week, but it’s so good he can’t help himself. Half of his meal is devoured before they can get to the heart of the meeting even though Hoshi yaps the whole time—talks animatedly about things Jun doesn’t understand but thinks sound important, like his dog and his favorite music. Hoshi also talks about his love for dancing, and when Jun cocks his head to the side and asks, like Saint Vitus?, all he gets in return is a small smile.

“Okay,” Hoshi says, pushing his plate towards the middle of the table, “now that I’m ready to throw up, it’s time to talk business.” Jun swallows, no longer hungry. “I saw your entire pitch. It was embarrassing.”

Jun groans and face-plants onto the table. “Yeah.” Syrup sticks to his forehead.

“However, it was a convincing story. That’s why They sent me here.”

“They?”

Hoshi waves him off. “Whatever you know Them as: God, the Lord, The Big Boss. They also heard everything.”

Jun slowly picks his head up and studies the angel across from him. Hoshi is weird, no doubt about that, but he’s also endearingly earnest. “And They… what? Want to help me?”

“Precisely,” Hoshi confirms. “And before you ask why, I think that part is quite obvious, but it’s two-fold: yes, it’s partly out of spite, but also—some of those souls were supposed to be ours.”

Jun blinks. Feels like his brain is filled with primordial goo and is about to split at the seams. “Explain this to me like I’m an idiot.”

“That’s what I’m doing,” Hoshi replies, tone measured and slightly confused. “We’re all-knowing up there, as I’m sure you know. We know who’s meant to be ours at the moment of their birth and we keep an eye on them throughout their lives. We’re not allowed to intervene, though, which the Devil knows. Free will and all that.” Hoshi rolls his eyes. “With free will comes temptation, and temptation is a powerful thing. Most people are not immune to it, which is why They took notice of you.”

“Wasn’t I—”

“Supposed to be the Pope? Yeah. They weren’t, like, super thrilled about the outcome of that, but contrary to popular belief, it’s not against Their Word to get a handjob.”

“But I spilled seed.”

The look on Hoshi’s face almost looks like a grimace. “And you’ve spilled a lot more since then. Look, all I’m saying is if the worst thing you do in your life is have sex, you’re not disqualified. We look at the entire itemized receipt, not a single purchase, if you catch my drift.”

“Yeah,” Jun replies, a little dazed. He still could’ve been the Pope. “I became a lawyer for nothing?”

“Not nothing,” Hoshi insists, shaking his head. “You’ve actually put yourself in a very unique position, which is what I’m trying to get to. Some of those souls were meant to be ours, but they fell into temptation and made deals with those fuc—” He coughs. “Those… beings… down there.”

Hoshi reaches across the table and places a warm hand over Jun’s. “They want you to help return their souls to where they belong.”

“And how am I supposed to do that? You saw it: she laughed at me, not to mention she now knows what I’m up to. And how am I meant to advertise? If these souls are already in Hell, it’s not like I can put up a billboard!”

Hoshi’s eyes narrow. “She?” he asks. “That’s how the Devil appeared to you?”

“I—yeah. Is that not how she appears to everyone?”

“What did she look like?”

Jun trudges through the slime in his brain. Tries to remember anything besides—“Pretty,” he answers. “I don’t really—that’s all I can remember. I just remember she was really, really pretty.”

“Like the kind of woman you’d be attracted to on Earth, right?” Jun nods. “You need to be careful. She’ll appear to you again in similar forms, especially now that I’ve been here and told you Their intention.”

“So you’re telling me I have to be suspicious of any beautiful woman that finds me attractive?” Hoshi nods, soliciting a tortured groan from Jun. “This just keeps getting worse and worse.”

“You won’t be able to avoid her, nor are you expected to. It’s to your advantage she entertained you at all, and she certainly wasn’t lying when she said you are of a higher status to her and everyone in Hell. If we want you, it’s only natural they would as well.”

Jun mulls all of this over. Stares into his mostly-empty mug of coffee and tries to make sense of it. “I can’t even remember how I got there. I just had the idea, and then it was like I woke up in Hell. I didn’t mean to—what if I don’t even want to do this anymore? Can’t I just go back to my regular, boring life? This is—this is too much.”

“Unfortunately it’s too late for that. You have been chosen, Wen Junhui, and not just for this.”

Jun scoffs. “You’re making me sound like Harry Potter.”

“Thankfully that lady does not belong to us. Now, would you like to go back to your apartment before we get into specifics? It may take a while.”

“...Can we take another order of these things to go?”

Hoshi grins and flags down the waitress to order another massive stack of sugar-dusted waffles. “I think I’m going to enjoy my time on earth with you, Wen Junhui.”

The specifics are thus:

Hoshi is in charge of what earth-bound lawyers would call advertising. Jun isn’t privy to the specifics; he doesn’t know how Hoshi is even capable of it, if he’s just going to waltz into Hell and hand out business cards or what, but it’s more than he’s able to do so he doesn’t ask. (Well, that’s not entirely true. He did ask, and all Hoshi said in return was, “You know Metatron?” and left it at that.)

Hoshi is also in charge of The List: the souls Heaven wants freed from their contracts and returned upstairs. He allows Jun a brief glimpse of it, who is none too surprised to find a few law school colleagues but still overwhelmed at its length. It’s long—so long it had taken Hoshi quite some time to unfurl the scroll—and it isn’t static. Anyone destined for Heaven that makes a deal with the devil while Jun’s at work will simply be added to the bottom of the list. On and on it’ll go, ad nauseam, until Jun either dies or retires.

Which, speaking of retirement—

In a shocking turn of events, the job comes with benefits. Hoshi had been reluctant to call it a salary. For all intents and purposes Jun will be self-employed: he will be provided with a small office space in a nice area of downtown with no signage, although he’s also welcome to work remotely or wherever he feels most comfortable. Money will appear in his account, though he can opt for other forms of payment if he so wishes. (He’d been offered enough to live off of for a year for even accepting the job but chose to have his student loans paid off instead.)

They will keep him healthy. They will keep his sleep schedule regular and his refrigerator stocked with nutritious food. They will ensure people leave him alone and that no suspicions are cast upon him. They will ensure Jun has every tool at his disposal to be successful.

(It was a lot. Felt like making an inverse deal with the devil—he knew he was playing for the right side, but it was non-negotiable and non-refundable. Wen Junhui had been chosen, and in a moment of self-doubt and self-deprecation, he’d joked, “Can They make me smarter?”

Hoshi’s brows had furrowed. “The list of benefits makes no mention of increased intelligence.” Jun pouted; let out a whiny little oh. Hoshi grabbed another sheet of paper. “Your intelligence stats are nearly maxed, dude.”

“I barely passed law school!” he protested.

“I don’t know what to tell you. If we made you any smarter your brain would explode. Literally.”)

After that, there wasn’t much left to discuss. Hoshi had a lot of planning to do; needed to talk to someone in the marketing department but promised he’d be back as soon as possible. Left a tome in Jun’s possession and told him to study.

Theological Contract Law: A Very Comprehensive Introduction: Cases and Materials - 2326th Edition, it says, and Jun stares down at it full of foreboding. It’s bound in black leather, giltstamped in red. Nothing good comes bound in black leather with shiny red letters.

Still, he does what’s asked of him, lest his student loan pay-off gets reversed. He spends hours hunched over his small dining room table with a legal pad to his right, taking notes on any and everything that may prove important—what he can make sense of, at least, because it doesn’t resemble any legal or governmental structure he’s ever seen.

He groans. Tosses his pen onto the table and leans back in the stiff wooden chair, lets his head loll off the back as the wood digs into his neck. Says, “What the heck am I supposed to do with this?” to the empty space of his apartment, and before he’s even opened his eyes another book appears on the table.

Theological Law For Mortals: An Introduction (Sorry!!!! - Hoshi)

He swears.

The days bleed together. Hoshi pops in briefly to officially assign him his first case: one Kim Mingyu from Anyang-si, South Korea. Apparently sold his soul to be “tall and hot” and Heaven desperately needs him back. “This one’s important to the big boss,” Hoshi says, dropping off a stack of papers with a picture paperclipped to the front with the most attractive, symmetrical man Jun has ever seen. “He was meant to work in recruiting,” Hoshi explains.

Jun whistles low. “Understandable. Look at his face.”

“Exactly, so you get the need for a little urgency.” He tries to stamp it down, but Jun feels the panic start to rise. Has to dig his fingernails into the palm of his hand. “Hey, just do your best. Call me if you need anything.”

Hoshi turns to leave, ugly pair of brand new sneakers squeaking against the linoleum floor of the kitchen, but Jun’s able to stammer out, “What—what if I can’t do it?”

The angel turns, face marred by genuine confusion. “Why would you think you can’t?”

And then he’s gone.

Fueled by Hoshi’s unwavering—and frankly incomprehensible—confidence in him, Jun finds what he needs just after four o’clock Sunday morning. There, on page 4,837 of Theological Contract Law: A Very Comprehensive Introduction: Cases and Materials - 2326th Edition, in subsection 69 of section 567, it clearly states that souls handed over in exchange for vanity-related reasons must adhere to strict guidelines, limited to but not including:

General facial appearance

Eye and/or hair color

Penis, breast, and/or butt size

Height and/or weight

Others TBD

Pushed beyond the threshold of exhaustion, eyes going in and out of focus, he’s not sure the text following the sub-bullet point is real, but there it is: In regards to height, men must be made at least 6’2” or 188 centimeters for the contract to be considered legally binding.

“Hoshi!”

At once, the angel appears across from him. He’s decked out in another stupid t-shirt (Don’t Bully Me, I’ll Cum, this one says) and is drinking a 7-Eleven slushy through a bendy straw. His lips and tongue are stained blue when he smiles and asks, “Good news?”

Jun shakes his head. Tries to erase the scene in front of him. “Maybe,” he answers. “I need you to get an accurate height on Kim Mingyu. And I mean really accurate. Shave him bald if you have to.”

Hoshi’s smile fades as he grows serious. “You really think you’ve got something?”

“I think so.” Jun pushes the book across the table. “Take a look at that part I highlighted. I know his file says he’s 188 centimeters tall, but imagine if whoever measured him just rounded up? If he’s even a millimeter under that, the contract is void.”

Before he can comprehend what’s happening, Hoshi climbs halfway across the table, grabs Jun by the cheeks, and plants a wet, noisy kiss in the middle of Jun’s forehead. “Wen Junhui, you sneaky little minx, I may be a little in love with you.”

Jun’s face flushes hot and red.

“Just—just look into it, okay? I’ve been over the rest of this and I can’t see any other way out of it.” With a sarcastic salute, Hoshi disappears. Feels like he’s only gone a few minutes before he pops back up in the living room wearing a somber expression. “What?” Jun asks, panicked, feeling his stomach drop out of his ass. “What’s wrong?”

“Bad news,” Hoshi replies, heaving a sigh. Won’t look up from the floor. Does an impeccable job at selling it, before he looks up at Jun with a shit-eating grin, barely able to contain his excitement. “For the Devil! Ha ha ha!”

Whiplash. All Jun can feel is whiplash, and he stumbles out of the chair, can barely feel the ache in his bones. Trips over a rogue object on his way to the living room. “What? You mean—”

“You did it! Kim Mingyu officially measured in at a glorious six-foot-one-point-nine repeating.”

Jun grabs onto the back of the couch so he doesn’t pass out. Oxygen is not reaching his brain right now, nor is coherent thought. All those agonizing days in law school during which he resigned himself to being a failure. All those back-breaking nights he had to run to the bus stop to get home from his internship, only a handful of hours before he had to be awake again for class. All the meals he upchucked from anxiety before critical exams. All his classmates that’d ignored and belittled him. And now—

“I did it…” he says, voice colored with pure disbelief.

Hoshi starts doing some kind of concerning, robotic-looking dance. “Yeah, bitch!” A bolt of lightning strikes right in front of him and Hoshi startles. Rubs at the back of his neck and has the good sense to look sheepish. “I forgot I’m not supposed to swear.” He looks up at the ceiling. “Sorry, Boss!”

He turns his attention to Jun. “Go take a shower and get dressed. Wear something nice; we’re going out to celebrate.”

Whatever club Hoshi has brought him to is humid and sticky.

With what, Jun can’t be sure, but every time he presses his fingertips together it takes a concerning amount of time for them to peel apart.

Hoshi leads him to the bar. Hops onto a stool and kicks his feet as he waves over the bartender. She’s cute, Jun thinks; a bright, open smile splits her face as she pulls away from Hoshi, clearly endeared by whatever it was he had said. She moves around the bar with an easy confidence, does a little twirl to avoid her coworker, and Jun doesn’t realize he’s hypnotized until Hoshi digs an elbow into his ribs.

“Take it easy, killer. I ordered us some shots.”

Jun snaps out of his reverie. “Can you even drink?”

“Of course I can, I just can’t get drunk. Not here, anyway. Big Boss made the real good stuff exclusive to you-know-where after a few, uh… mishaps. Down here.” He coughs. “Let’s find somewhere to sit. I’ll come back for the drinks.”

There’s an empty booth tucked away in a corner. Jun takes the side that gives him an eyeline shot of the bar even though it feels a little creepy, and if Hoshi knows what he’s doing he doesn’t mention it. He’s back to yapping about one thing or another, gets distracted by all the commotion in the club—the group playing darts, the packed dance floor, a couple making out near the restrooms. Quite enthusiastically, Jun might add.

True to his word, Hoshi disappears for a second to retrieve the drinks. Jun watches as the bartender hands over a tray of rainbow-colored shots and also as Hoshi pats the pockets of his skin-tight pleather plants. Watches as he panics and frantically waves Jun over. Once he’s in his personal space, Hoshi leans in and whispers, “They say they need a card for the tab. I don’t know what that is so I’m assuming I don’t have one.”

Jun sighs. Explains, “It’s a credit card. How do you survive down here with no money?” Nevertheless, he digs out his wallet and hands his card over. “I can’t believe you invited me out and I’m getting stuck with the bill.”

Hoshi tuts. Hands Jun’s credit card to the bartender without an ounce of remorse. “Relax, I’ll have Matt reimburse you.”

“Who the heck is Matt—” Jun begins to say, but he’s interrupted by the most annoying angel God ever created placing the tray of drinks in Jun’s hands, then asking, “Can you take this back to the table? I’ll be right there.”

Hoshi is not going to be right there. Hoshi is going to hover around the bar because the cute bartender was making eyes at him, and Jun is going to return to their formerly-shared table to drink alone. There aren’t many things more depressing than going out with a friend to celebrate a personal achievement only to end up downing six shots on his own.

…Which are not to Jun’s taste at all.

He’s a habitual Tsingtao drinker. Never bothers to order anything else because he knows what he likes and it has never steered him wrong. Never had his head stuck in a toilet bowl, either, which is territory he’ll rapidly be approaching if he actually goes through with this.

“Is this seat taken?”

Jun knows it’s you without having to look up. Your aura is tangible—something thick and syrupy like molasses and just as dark; something suffocating, something that would drown him—and it follows you like a shadow. Slides into the booth before Jun can answer, just a nanosecond before your physical form does the same, and when you’re at eye level he has to swallow his gasp.

You look completely different.

Still beautiful, he thinks, because it’s hard to think of anything else. Jun knows who and what you are, of course; remembers the warning Hoshi had given him. Knows that this is just another one of your tricks, another layer of temptation, but it’s a beauty like quicksand. It’s a beauty like the misunderstood creatures at the heart of every fairy tale—those haunting kinds of myths meant to both make you wary and suck you in. It’s a beauty accentuated by darkness.

Worst of all, it’s a beauty that’s making his pants a little tight in the dick area.

“What does that imbecile have you drinking?” you ask, reaching for one of the remaining shot glasses. You grimace as you hold it up to the light. “You know, I once watched a man throw back twelve of these things before he stripped down to nothing but a diaper and attempted to rob a convenience store across the street.”

“Oh. What happened?”

You sigh. Place the glass back on the tray. “A comedy of errors, of course. He somehow managed to make it into the store unnoticed, but he had neither a weapon nor something to store the money in. He tried climbing across the counter to get to the cash register, but the clerk hit him in the head with a metal step stool and knocked him unconscious before calling the police.”

“I’m assuming he got arrested?”

“Oh, no.” You laugh, and Jun’s taken aback by how normal it sounds. “He came to before the police got there. I guess the sirens freaked him out because he ran out of the store and got hit by a bus.” Jun must be wearing a particular look, because you follow that up with, “He was always meant to be one of ours, so don’t worry, you won’t have to meet him.”

Right.

Jun had expected this. Not that he’d had a whole lot of time to expect it, considering Kim Mingyu had been freed from his contract for a whopping fifteen minutes before Hoshi was shoving Jun into the bathroom to shower, but it had been a passing thought on at least four separate occasions.

You’re not going to apologize, he tells himself. Wonders if you can hear his thoughts and desperately hopes you can’t, considering he’d thought about getting a semi from how pretty you are. It wasn’t even a semi, really, if he’s being honest. What’s half of a semi? One-fourth of a boner? That’s what he’d gotten, and if you can read his thoughts it’s very important that you know that.

“I’m not Joshua.”

Jun startles. Feels all the normalcy leak out of his body and form a gloopy puddle on the floor. “Um,” he replies stupidly. “Then how did you—”

“I can feel you thinking. Always feels like chickenpox when humans overthink around me.”

He wrings his sweaty hands together. Rubs them on his jeans when that doesn’t work. “Sorry,” he says instinctually. “It’s just—I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say.”

“Why?” you challenge. “Is there something you want to say?”

“I don’t think so. But I can’t imagine you’re very happy with me, and I get this sort of, um. When I know someone’s upset with me it feels like chickenpox, too. And even though I know, logically, that I did a good thing, I still feel like I’m going to throw up?”

Tense silence hangs between the two of you. Jun’s on the verge of word-vomiting another apology when you snap your fingers and turn the remaining shots into something resembling watery honey. You hold one out to him. “Drink this,” you instruct, and Jun makes a point not to let your fingers touch when he takes it.

“Is it poison?”

You heave another sigh. “Wen Junhui, there are some things you need to understand about me. First of all, this is an inherited job. Being The Anointed One comes with a lot of work and responsibility so we get burned out, okay? So there’s only ever been one devil as far as humans are concerned, but in a weird avatar-y kind of way that’s hard to explain and not worth my time to explain to you, specifically, considering you’re the enemy now. Second, I am capable of killing you in ways your human brain cannot even begin to conceive of. I do not need to poison you with ginger tea to take you out.”

Jun looks down at the glass. Raises it to his noise and takes a hesitant sniff.

Oh. Yeah, that’s ginger tea.

That you conjured him… because he said he felt nauseous?

“The last thing you need to understand is that the loophole you found was… unfortunate, to say the least, but Kim Mingyu’s contract was not one of mine. The next contract that idiotic angel is going to ask you to work on was also not my work. If you free him, too, it will be regrettable, but it will pale in comparison to what will happen to you if you even think about touching one of mine.”

You’re gone before the fear can even set in.

Jun blinks, staring at the empty seat across from him. No indication at all that you’d been there, no lingering shadow, just the taste of ginger on his tongue and one of those cartoon scribbles in a thought bubble hovering metaphorically above his head.

He doesn’t—

He can’t—

No, he decides, he is not going to have a mental break in this club. Not while “Friday” by Rebecca Black plays on a loop. Not while he can hear someone to his left vomiting all over the floor. Not while he watches Hoshi skip back to the table and he notices, for the first time all night, what he’s wearing.

“Did you change?”

Because he swears the angel wasn’t wearing that when they left the apartment. The pleather pants, yes, but not the baby pink cropped tank with a decal of a creepy child in the middle that says BOYS ARE STUPID, THROW ROCKS AT THEM.

“What? No,” Hoshi answers, sliding into the seat you’d occupied only moments earlier. “Why does it smell weird over here?”

Jun plays stupid. “One of the dartboard girls puked on the floor.” He’s not very good at it.

Hoshi shakes his head. “Not that.” An exaggerated sniff, not unlike a bloodhound. “It smells like… it definitely smells familiar. I know this smell. It’s like—you know how it feels when it’s about to snow? How the cold and the air burn your nose, but it doesn’t actually smell like anything? As if it used to have a smell, once, a long time ago, and all it is now is just an imprinted memory?”

Jun lies, “No. Nope, no idea.”

Hoshi visibly deflates. “Well, it’s kind of like that. Also a little bit like you used wet moss to put out a wildfire. It fills me with—” Hoshi pauses. Narrows his gaze as he studies Jun intently. Being stared at like this by a guy in that particular shirt is a bit disorienting, he must admit. “She was here, wasn’t she?”

He’ll know he’s lying, but Jun says no again because it’s a lot easier than explaining that being threatened within an inch of his mortal life made him cum in his pants a little.

After the club, Jun gets a few days of reprieve.

He doesn’t hear from Hoshi at all, nor does he materialize unexpectedly in his apartment. No mysterious books show up, either, which is a relief. He’d stored both Theological Contract Law: A Very Comprehensive Introduction: Cases and Materials - 2326th Edition and Theological Law For Mortals: An Introduction on a seldom-used bookshelf in his living room and now the shelf is starting to bow in the middle. One more tome of that size and the whole thing is going to come tumbling down and earn him a noise complaint.

Another one.

Because Hoshi has already racked up three in Jun’s name.

So he tries to go back to life as usual until he’s needed again. Does his grocery shopping in the middle of the week in the middle of the day when it’s not so busy and he can navigate the aisles without crippling anxiety. Goes to a check-up and has to lie about turning over a new leaf and taking his health seriously when his cholesterol levels are back within perfect range. He plays video games, picks a nice willow tree in the park to sit beneath and read (normal books this time), takes some of the Mingyu money to buy a decent watch and a few tailored suits.

For the first time in a while, he’s able to sleep through the night.

But he can’t shake the feeling that it’s all… strange. Ever since you’d shown up at the bar, he swears he sees you everywhere: in line a few registers over at the supermarket, in the waiting room of the hospital, coming out of a fitting room in the mall. It’s that aura again. Stalks him like prey. Has paranoia pricking at his skin, and it’s not healthy, the way it has him looking over his shoulder at every turn, scurrying away from every attractive woman with a frown and mumbled apologies.

Surely this cannot be the rest of his life.

Hoshi swings by on a Tuesday. Just like you said he would, he asks Jun to work on an assignment for one Lee Chan who tried to sell his friend to the devil but accidentally sold himself instead. “Wouldn’t have really mattered,” Hoshi explains. Today, his shirt says BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN. “It’s sort of against the rules to try and sell other people.”

Jun spits toothpaste into the sink and prays the towel stays snug around his waist. Hoshi had cornered him in the bathroom. “So why do you want him back, then?” Rifles through the medicine cabinet for his nice hair serum. “Seems pretty open and shut to me.”

“Why do They want him back,” Hoshi corrects, “and I don’t know why They want this one.”

Jun thinks about what you said: how Mingyu and Lee Chan hadn’t been your contracts, were basically freebies; the… avatar-ness; the not-subtle-at-all threats on his life. Says, “Can I ask you something?” as he rolls on antiperspirant.

Hoshi, who’s sitting in the tub making animals out of shaving cream, simply nods.

“She said something interesting to me—”

“Before or after being mean to you made you ejaculate in your pants like a teenager?”

Jun blinks. “Before,” he answers slowly. When Hoshi makes no move to interrupt him again, he continues, “She said the Kim Mingyu and Lee Chan contracts weren’t hers. That the role is… inherited? Something about an avatar? How does that work?”

The angel hums. Adds what appear to be bunny ears to an amorphous blob that does not look rabbit-shaped at all, and Jun tries to tamper down his excitement at the impending explanation. Everything he’s dealt with so far will have been worth it because he’s going to be in the know. The powers that be will reward him with their trust. He’ll finally get some answers to all those questions he fell asleep pondering as a child.

And then Hoshi waves him away dismissively and says, “You know I can’t tell you any of that,” and everything comes collapsing down like a house of cards.

Fair enough, Jun thinks—he’s only successfully completed one assignment. It’s still early days. “But you will eventually,” he says, and whoever’s listening in must think the optimism in his voice is so pathetic, “right?”

Hoshi is not cruel. They haven’t known each other long, but Jun knows that much. He wasn’t created from some Old Testament mold, when cruelty was the point of it all—intended to impress fear and strict adherence to Their Word. So when Hoshi laughs it isn’t meant the way Jun takes it. When Hoshi laughs it isn’t meant to make Jun feel disregarded and unimportant, small and irrelevant, but that’s where it strikes him all the same.

When Hoshi laughs and has no reassurances to offer, Jun is seventeen again, reckoning with his loss of faith. Now he’s a decade older and is constantly confronted by all those old names and characters, and when you’re trapped in the middle of their bidding, where can you go when you need to hide?

Jun has the Lee Chan assignment completed by Thursday night.

A significant amount of money appears in his bank account. He wakes up on Friday to an enthusiastic message from his landlord, thanking him for paying his rental contract through the end of his lease. His parents thank him for the grocery delivery. On the side, away from the proud ears of his father, his mother is especially thankful. She’s choking back tears as she thanks him profusely, says business has been slow, tells him he’s a good son and he’s made them proud, always, even if he traveled a different path than the one he originally planned to take.

None of it takes away the ache in his chest.

None of it makes him feel any less empty. It’s hard to feel fulfilled when you know you’re just a pawn, stuck in the middle of a holy war that existed long before him and will persist long after he’s gone. Wen Junhui will always be on the outskirts, because everyone needs him, but he’s not important enough to trust. He is someone and no one all at once. He is Purgatory.

He needs to feel human—needs to make human mistakes, destroy himself the way humans do. Needs to commit a few cardinal sins and scold himself, wonder what the fuck he’s doing as he rattles ice around his third glass of baijiu. Needs to wake up with a splitting headache and a fractured memory. Needs a hoarse voice beside him to ask what time it is as he stares at their naked back and wonders how to get out of it.

There’s a bar not far from his apartment. A dive, by every definition of the word: broken, flickering neon sign out front, cheap linoleum floors peeling at the corners, 70s paneling on the walls, the stench of cigarette smoke outlasting all the old regulars. It’s the kind of place ghosts gather; the kind of place Jun was always too scared to go, knew the questioning, distrustful stares that’d be there to greet him as soon as he stepped through the door.

Tonight, though, it’ll do just fine.

He sits on a stool at the bar and orders a beer to start. Intends to stay a while. Watches a trio of old men play dou dizhu at a table near the back, empty bottles at their feet, fat cigars stuck between their teeth, insults and accusations shouted around them. To his left, a middle-aged man tries bartering for another drink. Needs it, he says, because he lost his job and his wife in the same week. Fourth job this month, the bartender replies, no pity to be found. It’s only the twenty-second.

Across the bar sits a kid that reminds Jun a lot of his brother. Can’t be much older than eighteen. Might not be old enough to drink legally at all, but that’s none of his business. There’s dirt beneath his fingernails and a large chip taken out of a front tooth. Not a clean break, all jagged edges—the kind that probably hurts to run his tongue over.

Jun feels guilty for a moment, surrounded by all these people with real problems. He’s got money and a respectable career. Has a roof over his head that’s been paid for by someone else. He’s good-looking, has his health and his youth. Has enough to take care of his family.

“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” You sit beside him with a humored smile that shines through a truly pinched expression.

Jun snorts as he empties his drink. “Thessalonians. Gotta be honest, not one of my favorites.” Spares a glance at you: you’re different again, appearance-wise, but the scent you wear like a signature perfume is the same. Heady, like it was bottled at the center of the earth. “Is this your way of telling me that comparison is the thief of joy or whatever?”

Your turn to laugh. The bartender sets a drink in front of you that Jun hadn’t heard you order. “No,” you reply simply. “I’m not all that concerned with human joy. Just thought it was ironic. Come sit with me.”

“This is starting to sound familiar,” he snarks, but he follows anyway.

A rickety table by the window. Winter air seeps through, frosts the glass; has Jun wishing he’d worn a thicker coat. It was warmer by the bar. The two chairs you occupy are upholstered in peeling vinyl, one ripped with the stuffing peeking through. Jun takes that one, figuring you’ll laugh at his human chivalry, but you take the seat opposite him without a word. That old flickering sign outside reflects on your face.

He didn’t come here for a therapy session—he came to get drunk on questionable liquor surrounded by people who don’t know him. You do, of course, which throws a wrench in his plan. You seem to know everything about him, including that he’d be here brooding. “Why’d you follow me here?”

“Well, it certainly wasn’t for your jubilant demeanor and fantastic conversation.” You put your drink to the side. Fold your hands in front of you. “Congratulations on Lee Chan. The outfit upstairs must be very pleased with the work you’ve done thus far.”

There’s no bite. No sardonic tone.

Jun realizes then how differently you treat him. How honest you are. You don’t lie or stretch the truth; you don’t brush off his questions. Hoshi is truthful at an arm’s length. Makes his stomach feel sour.

“I’m just a pawn, aren’t I? It doesn’t really matter if they’re pleased so long as I get the work done.”

You hum an acknowledgment. “People forget what They used to be like. The atrocities They committed and had others commit in Their name—humans, just like you, who were so desperate to appease their God they would’ve done whatever was asked of them.” Jun’s drink refills. He empties it in one go. “They killed their sons, waged war on their neighbors, have done unspeakable evils in Their name. It’s not only you, Wen Junhui, that has been a pawn to Them.”

He doesn’t react. A glass shatters at the bar. “And you?” he questions. “What are you, then, if those are the things They demand?”

“I’m a foil, of course. Would you still believe in good if there was no evil? Would you believe in the promise of eternal life if there was no threat of eternal damnation? Would you still be moral if there was no corruption?” Rhetorical questions. “Although you’re no stranger to crises of faith, are you?”

He isn’t. The handjob had rattled him, sure, but it hadn’t been the catalyst. Not really. Jun had still gone to church that Sunday. Still kneeled and received Communion and allowed himself to be blessed and prayed over. Still bowed his head before each meal and mouthed along as his mother said grace.

No, his loss of faith had been gradual: a question he couldn’t find an answer to, suffering he could no longer brush off with blind faith, words he used to treat as gospel that began tasting acrid in his mouth as he also lost his conviction. Everything started feeling like bullshit, and once everything started feeling like bullshit, he had to wonder what he’d spent eighteen years of his life chasing. What he spent eighteen years of his life believing in.

Until he found he didn’t believe in all that much anymore.

He has to ask: “Was it your doing?”

You shake your head. “People forget who I am, too. They call me the original liar. They say I am the source of all evil. They attribute every sin and misdeed to me, say it must’ve been my will, and yet it says right there in their holy book, in Isaiah 45:7: I form the light, and create darkness: I make peace, and create evil: I the Lord do all these things.” You focus all your attention on Jun—he feels the weight of it like a millstone. “I was the anointed one until I was overcome by sin and became the tempter, right? That’s what they say; how they wrote my story. And yet, by Their own word, it was They who created evil. It was God who created darkness.” A hefty pause. “Some may look at me and say I, too, was a pawn.”

“Do you feel like you were?”

You don’t respond. Instead, Jun watches as his view of the bar crumbles once you snap your fingers: block by block replaced with the interior of his apartment. His dining table instead of the off-balance one in front of the window. The ambient noise of his building instead of the bar. A mug of coffee in place of the baijiu.

“What the he—”

It’s within the four dull walls of Jun’s apartment building that you answer: “Even if I was, why should I feel like a victim? Did I not get the better end of the deal?” Jun feels like he’s standing atop a trap door. Like any second it’ll swing open and down, down, down he’ll go. “I rule over my kingdom and make no demands of anyone. I am a consequence of free will and not an inhibitor of it. I dole out punishment only for those deserving of it.”

The coffee is strong. Bitter. Just for a second before it melts away into something sweet. “You are temptation, are you not? Do the demons not do your bidding? Sow chaos in your name? Are you not the originator of all these contracts I’ve been tasked with destroying? If They are to be believed, those people were not meant to be yours, and yet you wound up with them anyway.”

“I like you, Wen Junhui,” you say. “You have an insatiable curiosity that is both admirable and ill-advised.”

He feels his face flush. “Sorry. Got carried away, I think.”

“It’s of little consequence to me. I must admit I have smited men for asking questions, but they were of a more crude variety. More coffee?” Jun nods. “I am who I am. It is who I’ve always been—I was created to walk this path and so I know no different.”

“Predestination.”

“Precisely, just as those dreadful fucking Puritans believed. God needed a foil, a betrayer, and so They created me. I know no other role.”

“You were an angel,” Jun argues. “They say you were beautiful, powerful, and intelligent; they say you were full of light. You don’t remember any of that?”

Sorrow etches across your face. Only for a second—blink and you’ll miss it. It is not in the same realm of pain Jun is experiencing. Yours is an ancient grief. It is something palpable and overwhelming, something liable to consume and destroy everything within its reach if left uncontrolled. Jun wonders if it has been; if you’ve let it unfurl before reigning it back in. If those are the plagues they speak of. Catastrophic disasters and genocides and everything on earth he cannot conceive of.

And then your face shutters. That grief is now nowhere to be found, borrowed features rearranged neatly once again. “Of course I remember,” is all you say.

Companionable silence. Jun sips slowly at his coffee and enjoys it. Wonders, briefly, how he wound up here, with the CEO and overseer of Hell sitting at his dining room table, before he lets those thoughts get chased away by a more pressing fact: there is an extremely beautiful and kind of terrifying woman sitting at his dining room table, and she hasn’t murdered him—yet.

He’s not above noticing it. Isn’t going to pretend he hasn’t thought about the night in the club roughly every twenty minutes since it happened; isn’t going to pretend he didn’t get a little hard in the shower that same night and that he didn’t relieve himself. Isn’t going to pretend that this isn’t doing something for him—the different disguises, each one just as enticing as the last, all of them conjured from deep within his psyche, checking off all his boxes.

Jun also isn’t going to pretend he has very much game. He hadn’t left university a virgin (although it’d been close) and nowadays women aren’t really falling over themselves to date a newly-licensed lawyer with little money and thrifted suits that feel like they’re playing at adulthood. However, if nothing else, this… partnership he has going on has served him well in the confidence department. He has disposable income and no debt. His clothes fit. He upgraded his cheap Casio watch to something that doesn’t turn his skin green.

“You didn’t really answer my question earlier.” You roll your head to the side, cock an eyebrow. His bravado falters slightly at the line of your throat. “Are you stalking me?”

What he aims for: cheeky, a little saucy; the kind of question that’s delivered with a shit-eating grin and earns him a coy laugh in response as you tuck your hair behind your ear. Oh, knock it off, you’d say as you playfully swatted at him. Of course I’m not. He’d catch your hand and press his lips to your knuckles before trailing them up your arm. The first kiss to the side of your neck would be gentle, a little hesitant, and then the heat would take over.

How it lands: an accusation completely lacking in charm and sass. Jun’s eyes widen in panic as soon as the question leaves his mouth, has him wondering how he’s still alive if the glare you send him is any indication of how you’re feeling. He should’ve known better. Jun is not the sort of person who can pull off a comment like that. Doesn’t have the charisma or the confidence. Isn’t sleazy enough. Jun is the kind of guy who lurks your social media after a one night stand to figure out your favorite breakfast so he can have it waiting the morning after; the kind who takes note of where you work so he can have flowers delivered to your desk and not for any other nefarious purpose.

Which, now that he’s thinking about it—

Every accusation is a confession, or whatever it is they say.

“That’s not—”

“What you meant,” you finish for him. Thankful for the lifeline, he nods, not trusting himself to not dig a deeper hole. “You want to know why it is I’ve shown up twice now, during both of your nights out.” He nods again. “You wanted to be suave when you said it, maybe even a little seductive, but you forgot your claim to fame is crying for three days over a handjob and how excruciatingly awkward you are.”

He waits for you to continue. When you don’t, he nods again, wishing he’d spent more time as a teenager on the degenerate parts of the internet rather than at Bible study.

“Are you an idiot?”

Not that it’s undeserved, but the question leaves him stunned. Has his mouth gaping open and shut like a goldfish. This is a trap, right? There’s a correct answer here that he’s expected to give. “...No?” he tries, and when your eyes narrow he quickly changes course. “Yes,” he says definitively. “Yes, I am an idiot. Sorry for my… idiocy.”

It looks like it’s being dragged out of you by force, but the clouds part, birds start chirping in perfect harmony, Jun feels the warmth of the sun—you laugh. You laugh, and it’s reluctant but it’s real, and Jun’s smile is so wide his face feels heavy under the weight of it. It’s so wide you say, “Wow, even your mouth is heart-shaped,” and, if Wen Junhui knows nothing else, he knows he’s in real big trouble.

“You know what else is heart-shaped?” You gesture for him to continue, except he’d just been yapping. Didn’t have a plan. There’s no punchline. And he can’t set it up as a dick joke because that doesn’t make sense. My dick is heart-shaped? What does that even mean? Unless it’s in a cute way? My dick is heart-shaped… for you. It could work, he reasons. Worse things have worked for other men. “My di—”

“No.”

He pretends to pout. “You didn’t let me finish.”

“Because you were going to make a dick joke.”

“No I wasn’t.” You roll your eyes. “I was going to say my… digantic heart.”

A pause. Another beat of silence.

“I’m not going to laugh at you twice.”

A shit-eating grin on Jun’s face. “But you would, is what you’re saying? If you didn’t already meet your one-laugh quota?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

I want to kiss you, he wants to say. Feels the words biting at the back of his teeth, begging him to open his mouth so they can escape and be real. I want to kiss you but I don’t know if it’d be real. Because it can’t be, can it? All the ways you’ve been described throughout human history, not once has anyone said you’re capable of love. Which—that’s not what Jun is looking for here, right? That’d be ridiculous. He has a crush.

A crush on a beautiful woman who looks like all of his wet dreams combined. Who’s terrifying and smart and maybe misunderstood in all the same ways he is. Who is halfway responsible for his current employment. Who conjures ginger tea for him when he feels sick and hasn’t snapped her fingers to turn him into dust… yet. It’s natural, especially for a late bloomer such as himself.

But that doesn’t mean anything.

You look like all of his wet dreams combined but it’s still just a costume. The same way Jun was playing at adulthood in his ill-fitting suits, you’re playing at being human. Take it off and you’re still the devil. Still primordial. Still not bound by the constraints and constructs of time. Not bound by mortality, which is probably the second-most pressing issue behind the whole fallen angel, prime ruler of Hell, purveyor of iron-clad contracts that are really, really pissing off Heaven thing.

“Congratulations,” you say, ripping Jun out of his spiral, “your overthinking has bypassed chickenpox completely and went straight to shingles.”

“They have a vaccine for that now.” Wow, he is really not nailing this.

“I know. Pestilence was devastated. Moped around for ages. Imagine all your hard work gone, just like that, because of science? That’s why I created Jenny McCarthy.” You sigh. “Anyway, out with it.”

Jun chews at the inside of his cheek. “I’m trying to figure out how to ask in a non-offensive way.”

You blink. “I am literally the devil.”

“Who can kill me,” he says slowly, trying to buy time. So are you, it seems, because you’re content to stretch the silence. Wait until it settles in Jun’s bones as anxiety. One of those old tricks he learned during law school that’s now being turned on him. He coughs. “Anyway, I—” He deflates. “It’s stupid, I don’t know why I even thought—”

“Out with it,” you repeat.

“Right.” He sucks in a breath. “Does this mean anything to you? Not in, like, an affectionate, I’m in love with you kind of way, but in a… human… way? Is it offensive to phrase it like that?”

“I think you’ll find not much offends me—except for you and your fucking lawyer thing ruining my contracts.” There are those flames behind your eyes again. The temperature in the room increases tenfold. “So no, it’s not offensive to wonder how human I am or am not, but I don’t know if the answer will be to your satisfaction or understanding.”

“Try me.”

You huff a laugh. Mumble something about the hubris of man. “You’ve read Their book, so you know how and why the angels were created. Ministering spirits, I think it says. Spirits without bodies. I have never known what it means to be human because I never was. I appear as one to you out of necessity.”

“Because my brain would melt if I saw your true form?”

“What? No. Because it’s terrifying. Would you rather hand over your mortal soul to someone who looked like an eldritch horror or someone who looked like one of those women you’ve jerked off to in porn magazines?” Jun swallows audibly. “Exactly.”

“But what does it feel like when you’re like this? When you’re here?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “It feels different, but I can’t say it feels human because I do not know what that feels like. You’ve interacted with me and have been to Hell—if I asked you how it felt to be the devil, how would you answer?”

Jun doesn’t have to think. He says the first word that comes to mind, which is, “Lonely. I think it’s lonely, because They have worshippers, Their followers are devout and love and trust without proof, and you were created to be hated and feared.” You move to interject, but Jun continues. “Maybe you have those things too, but they’re not the same. They gave you everything and then They ripped it away. Their followers heed every word of the Bible, name their children after its characters, but where’s your book? Why wasn’t anyone allowed to tell your story?”

“Maybe you should write it.”

What you aim for: cheeky, a little saucy; the kind of suggestion spoken around a sly smile that’s also a little self-conscious at someone taking you into consideration—at someone seeing you.

How it lands: fractured; words spoken slowly and intentionally so nothing is given away. How ironic that it’s the most human Jun has heard you sound.

But your bravery is inspiring, even if you’re unaware of it. Even if you aren’t making a conscious choice to be so, Jun can watch you be vulnerable and think he can do the same. He can finally say what he’s been dancing around this entire time, which is, “If I kiss you, what will it feel like for you?”

“The same as any other kiss, I imagine.”

“You’ve done this before, then? As a… human?”

Seems your patience with him has run out. You stand, make your way to Jun’s side of the table slowly. Drag a finger along the back of each chair, nails cherry red and sharpened to a point. He wants to feel them. Wants the sting as they dig into his thighs; as they scratch down the length of his back and mark him up. He wants to feel the phantom bite for days, long after you’re gone and he’s come to his senses. When he stands beneath the spray of the shower and his skin feels raw, he wants to know it was you that had done it.

He understands, now, why people make those deals and shake your hand.

As you loom above him, slowly encroaching upon his space—as the heady scent of you overwhelms him and makes him dizzy, has his eyes fluttering closed and rolling back in his head—he thinks he’d give you anything you asked for.

You lean in close. One hand on the arm of the chair, one wrapped around the meat of his thigh, just on the edge of sharp. Closer, closer, until he can feel the warmth of your breath against his cheek, the line of his jaw, the lobe of his ear. “Tell me: does this feel human?”

It does. Drives him a little crazy how he can feel each word punctuated against his skin; how he can feel your body heat seep through the fabric of his pants—heat he didn’t expect to find. And it isn’t like it matters, because he’d want you no matter how you felt, but it helps to ground him. Keep him in the moment. So he says, “Ye-yeah,” and knows you’re smiling at the need in his tone.

Need that starts in his toes and settles in his belly. Need that grows as your hand trails up his thigh and settles over his zipper, over the bulge you find there. Jun’s breath catches in his throat. He knows the mechanics—in, out; in, out; in, out—but can’t convince his lungs to work. Feels lightheaded and a little embarrassed because you’re not even touching him properly and he already feels untethered.

All you do is pull away, back out of his space, and for all he knows his world’s been turned upside down. Doubly so when he cracks one eye open and sees you on your knees, looking up at him with a half-lidded gaze, lashes impossibly dark. He can’t help it. He reaches out, places his thumbs in the contours of your cheek, cups your jaw, and presses his lips to yours.

Immediate searing heat.

Jun is engulfed in it. You taste like a storm—taste like the first deafening crack of thunder and the lightning that follows. And he knows he’s coming across too eager with the way he licks into your mouth, but you don’t seem to mind. You match his pace, groan into his mouth, palm at his cock with more intention. Jun’s hips roll, seeking the friction; wants more of the stinging pleasure. Wants to haul you into his lap and fit his hands in the curve of your waist, leave bruises on your hips with his thumbs. He wants to trace every inch of your skin and commit it to memory.

But you’ve got plans of your own.

You plant your hands against his chest and push. Jun goes willingly, chest heaving, missing your mouth already. There’s a crooked grin sitting on your face that sends a spark of excitement up his spine, has alarms sounding in his head, but he can’t look away. Everything you do mesmerizes him: the way you run your tongue along your bottom lip, the slow drag of his zipper, how your voice is husky and deeper than he’s ever heard it when you ask him, what do you want, and your smile when he answers, whatever you do.

And what you seem to want is to destroy him in record time. Pants at his knees, hard cock straining against his briefs, he feels like he’s back in high school. Has that same sense of adolescent urgency, like everything’s happening both in slow-motion and not fast enough, because he knows what’s coming. Watches with a lip tugged between his teeth as you free his cock. Whimpers when you wrap your hand around him, reminds himself to breathe; grips white-knuckled at the arms of the chair when you begin to move.

Your pace is torturously slow to start. You seem to delight in tormenting him; in hearing all those breathy moans that escape him and spur you on. You lean forward and spit and everything is slick. Jun feels like he’s going to come out of his skin. He grips at the chair tighter. Digs his nails into his thighs when that doesn’t work and lets his head roll back, neck on full display. Maybe it’s to tempt you. Maybe he wants you to sink your teeth into him and mark him up. Maybe he has a million fantasies, and not a single one compares to—

Your mouth. The sound that comes out of him is unholy. It takes every ounce of restraint he has not to roll his hips and fuck his cock deeper into your mouth, down your throat. All he wants to do is chase the bliss of that wet heat and give in to it.

But he needs this to last. If this is the only time he’ll have you like this, he needs to make it worthwhile.

He needs to tell you, needs you to slow it down before he embarrasses himself by coming in your mouth, except he can’t find the words. Doesn’t want to deny himself even a second of pleasure. Five minutes is all it’s taken to make a hedonist out of him. And that’s… well, it’s not a philosophy he ever thought he’d adopt, but who could blame him when you feel like velvet? When he starts babbling nonsense and you hum in response and everything feels electric?

“I’m gonna—” A sharp nip at the inside of his thigh has his declaration dead on arrival. His body shivers, trembles, tries to collapse in on itself. “Shit, don’t do that, I’m gonna—”

He feels your smile against his skin. Whimpers as you mouth at his balls. Wonders if he’s going to die like this; if someone will come to check on him and find his pitiful, half-naked body right here in this chair, and that is not a sight he wants anyone to walk in on, so he reaches for you, finds your hair and tugs at you gently. Seals his lips over yours before you can come up with any more ideas.

He hauls you into his lap, just like he’d wanted, and dips his hands beneath your top. Skims his hands over the warm skin he finds. Digs his nails in when you bite at the column of his throat and groans as his cock—so hard he can barely think straight; can’t think of anything except burying himself inside of you—brushes against the harsh fabric of your pants.

“God, c’mere.” You oblige. Kiss him with such intensity he no longer cares where he dies, so long as this is how he goes out. Watches as stars explode behind his eyelids when he realizes he can taste himself on your tongue, that you taste like him. Moves his hands to your chest, traces lightly over your hard nipples, delights in the way you react, that it’s him making you feel good. That it’s him you let pull your top over your head. That it’s him that presses praise into your skin like scripture.

He mouths at you indiscriminately: your collar bones, the space between your breasts, the swell of skin there. Whines as you grab at his hair and tell him how to please you. Thinks he’s learning a lot about himself when he does as you say, when he sucks and bites at your nipples, and grows impossibly harder.

You sigh, blissed out; tell him you want his mouth elsewhere, fill his mind with thoughts that have him rolling his hips uselessly, thrusting at nothing, but fuck, he wants it all. Wants to taste every part of you. Wants to drag you to the edge and watch as your body writhes in satisfaction. Wants to know how beautiful you look when you come on his tongue, head thrown back, your nails digging into his scalp.

Wants to bury his cock inside of you before you can come down and watch as your eyes roll back and know, with every thrust of his hips, that he’s leaving his mark just the same as you are.

So that’s what he does. He stands, lifting you with ease, tells you to wrap your legs around him as he carries you to his bedroom. Lays you in the middle of the bed and helps strip you bare. Tells you, in every way he can think of, how much he loves seeing you like this, how stunning you are, how lucky he is. Kisses his way down your body until he’s level with your cunt. He breathes in your scent, desperate for all of you, before he circles a thumb over your clit and follows it with his mouth.

Ironic, he thinks, that you taste like heaven.

He gives as good as he got—flattens his tongue and works you over with long licks. Laps and sucks and doesn’t let up when your legs start to shake. Places one over his shoulder and dives back in. Swears fall from your lips in fractured syllables, breathless cries in between commands to keep going. He’s a man possessed. Doesn’t want to waste a second. Doesn’t want the taste of anyone else on his tongue.

You come with a sob, his name the only thing you seem capable of saying. Jun, Jun, Jun, like a chant.

…Like something he’d hear in church.

No reprieve. He stretches you on his fingers, almost delirious as he presses against your g-spot and feels how much wetter you get. Ruts against the mattress at all the crude sounds he’s pulling from you, unable to help himself. Says, “Can I…?” and slicks himself up with what he’s gathered from you when you nod.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck. Kisses the spot just below your ear as he runs his hands up and down your thighs. “How do you want me?” he asks. “Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”

He expects you to want it from behind. Maybe on top so you’re in control, turned away. He doesn’t expect you to say, “Just like this,” as you hitch a leg around his hip and pull him as close as possible. He doesn’t expect you to say, “I want you to look at me,” in that tone, like it’s imperative. Like you need it. He doesn’t expect you to grab the back of his neck and kiss the air from his lungs as he pushes inside.

Heat. Everything is white, blinding heat.

Jun whines into your mouth. Rolls his hips slowly as you swallow it. Your hands move to his shoulders and down his spine, settle in the small of his back, press into the dimples there. He pulls back only so he can tell you to mark him up, that he wants to feel you days from now, and you indulge him. Shallow at first—your nails ghost across his skin, more ticklish than painful, before they dig in a little deeper. Jun feels the bite as the welts begin to form and he thinks his smile must look crazed.

He keeps his pace steady. Fucks in as deep as he can and rocks back slowly, trying to hold on to the way your cunt squeezes him, but you need more. You tell him as much and don’t say please, and when Jun tries to be a little cocky, when he thinks he has a modicum of control and says, “You’re okay, baby, you can take it,” you send him such a nasty glare he immediately gives it to you harder and faster.

But he can’t help but laugh. “What, I can’t call you baby?” he jokes. There’s a rebuttal on the tip of your tongue that Jun does away with with a sharp thrust of his hips. He knows he’s playing with fire, that he’ll pay for this one way or another, but the thought thrills him more than anything else.

“I’m the—fuck,” you swear. Jun doesn’t have to ask why. Everything’s starting to feel tighter, wetter. Both of you are hurtling toward the inevitable, and Jun needs to feel you come on his cock, needs to watch you unravel beneath him.

He grabs your hand. Sucks two of your fingers into his mouth. “Touch yourself,” he says. “Make yourself feel good, I wanna see you come.” He moans, loud and unabashed, when you do as he says.

Each pass of your fingers over your clit makes you jerk, has electricity licking at your heels. Jun feels each one. Feels the way you clench and tremble. A bead of sweat runs down the column of your throat and he traces it with his tongue. Keeps fucking harder, deeper; grinds his pelvis against your clit and falls in love with the way you sound in the throes of lust. Wants to bottle it and keep it forever.

“Jun, I’m gonna—”

Another roll of his hips. Deep, deep, deep. “I know.” Two words he’s barely able to choke out. Feels like he’s being suffocated as his vision starts to go hazy at the edges. All he knows in this moment is your pleasure, your satisfaction, you.

Your orgasm hits with a shattering cry. Jun follows right after, unable to put up a fight against the vice grip of your cunt. It feels pathetic, the way his body shakes with the force of it, but when it passes, when he comes back into his body, all he feels is bone-deep euphoria.

He collapses onto your chest. Presses another kiss there. Sighs contentedly when your nails scratch lightly at his scalp. “Okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” comes your easy answer.

Minutes pass in blissful quiet. Neither of you speak, letting your heavy breathing do the talking, and for once Jun enjoys the sounds of the city outside when there’s someone beside him to hear it, too. “I’m gonna pull out,” he tells you, even though it feels a bit silly.

He feels the loss immediately.

Unsure of the protocol for something like this, Jun does what he always does: pretends there’s absolutely nothing out of the ordinary happening at all.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, punctuating his words with a kiss to your temple. He grabs a clean pair of underwear from a drawer, pulls them on, pads down the hall to the bathroom. He pointedly does not look at his reflection as he turns the tap on and waits for the water to warm. Knows his face is blotchy and flushed and his hair’s a mess and that you’re spread out on his bed looking like the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, so he doesn’t want to look at his reflection and feel bad about himself. Doesn’t want to taint this moment by feeling unworthy of it.

But a bit of that self-doubt still manages to creep in, because he returns to his room and is surprised to find you haven’t left. That, above all else, you look content: laying on your front, one of Jun’s pillows tucked beneath your head, sheets barely covering your ass. You smile when Jun puts a knee on the mattress and you feel it dip. Smile wider when he kisses the length of your spine and tells you, in a voice unrecognizable even to his own ears, to roll onto your back so he can clean you up.

If it’s too intimate, you make no mention of it. If there’s no room in this moment for this kind of care and affection, if all of this is for Jun’s sake and you’re just letting him go through the motions, you don’t mention that, either.

He works slowly and with care. Apologizes when you hiss at the first swipe of the washcloth, the water warm but still colder than your skin. Cracks a joke about taking you out for breakfast in the morning even though both of you know you’ll be long gone by then, and he waits for that knowledge to sting but it never does, but he’s relieved when you laugh anyway.

It’s when you stop laughing, when your smile slowly disappears from your face, that it all starts to sink in. Because you ask, “Did it feel real to you?” and he’s not sure how to interpret that. If it’s a masked plea for reassurance or if you want to make sure he got his money’s worth.

Maybe it’s both. Or maybe it’s neither.

“I know it can’t be for you what it is for me,” he answers, “but if you’re asking if I had a good time, then my answer is yes. And I know what this is, so you don’t need to look like that, okay? I’m not about to confess my love for you and start crying.”

(That’s not entirely true. He really might start crying, but he’ll at least have enough sense to wait until you’re gone.)

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, so I…” You sigh, avert your gaze, tangle your fingers in the sheets. “It’s just—you’re doing all this nice stuff for me, so I didn’t… I wanted to make sure.”

“‘Nice stuff’? You mean helping you clean up and offering you a glass of water?”

You laugh again, but there’s no humor in it. “You’re treating me like I’m human, Wen Junhui. Like I’m the same as any other woman you’d sleep with.”

He cocks his head. “Why wouldn’t I?” he asks, and that’s the end of that.

Jun doesn’t use his downtown office much, but since his apartment still smells like you, he figures he can use a change of scenery. Hoshi will know where to find him if he’s needed.

He ducks into a recently-opened coffee shop and orders an expensive latte with ingredients he’s never heard of. When he pops the lid, he’s both horrified and intrigued by the purple-blue coffee that greets him. Back outside, he breathes in the musk of the city: the exhaust fumes, cigarette smoke, the sweat from people rushing to work.

A jianbing vendor is set up at the corner, fills him with nostalgia—smells just like the ones he ate nearly every morning during law school. He smiles as he orders and asks for extra lajiao, foolishly ignoring the questioning glance he receives in return, and he’s happy as he walks the remaining two blocks to his office with it warm in his hand. Sticks it in his mouth to hold between his teeth as he digs in his pockets for the key. Jiggles it in the lock as he accidentally bites down, and it takes a second, maybe five, but then—

He should not have asked for the extra chili sauce.

All 182 of his centimeters crash through the door and carelessly toss aside his briefcase. Water. He needs water desperately, even though it’s just going to make it worse, which he knows, but his mouth all the way down to his esophagus feels like it’s been set ablaze. Feels like he’s breathing magma. Feels like if someone stood in front of him right now and caught wind of his breath, they’d turn to ash.

Which explains how he misses the person sitting at his desk, their feet kicked up and face hidden behind a newspaper from six months ago.

He finally notices them some ten minutes later, after he locks himself in the bathroom and douses his face in cold water and can be sure he’s not about to die from excessive heat intake. Not that this is any less embarrassing for him: he shrieks, clearly not expecting anyone to be there, and the stranger shrieks in turn. The shriek-off lasts approximately thirty seconds and is cut off by an elderly woman sticking her head through the door and asking if everything is alright, to which Jun sheepishly nods and bows in apology as he thanks her for her concern.

Once she’s back on the street, he whirls around to face his intruder.

“Good morning,” Hoshi says, seemingly nonplussed by the entire sequence of events that have transpired. “Had a little mishap with the chili sauce, huh?” Jun ignores him. Snatches the newspaper out of his hands and shoos him out of his chair and into one intended for guests. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

Jun glares. “Why are you—”

“Or should I say the only side of the bed, considering you had erotic entanglements with the devil.”

Annoyance flares within him. Has that lajiao heat rushing back to his skin. Hoshi’s got a lot of nerve—the same guy who refused to tell him much of anything, who just takes and takes and takes, is now criticizing him for exercising his free will. Well, Jun’s not going to accept that, he decides. Adopts a snotty little tone and says, “So you were spying on me? Wow, okay, you pervert.”

Hoshi balks. Trips over his words as he tries to mount a useless defense. “I didn’t—that’s not—no,” is the best he can come up with.

“Did you like the show?”

“Wen Junhui—”

“Very convenient that’s the thing you watched. Missed my whole crisis of faith, huh? Both of them? Didn’t think I’d maybe need some support during those times?” He shakes his head. Tries to hold on to the anger, because it’s less humiliating than crying after acting like a hard-ass. “At least she’s been honest. At least she’s always been upfront about who and what she is. You guys—you guys have all these demands, all these requirements, but at the end of the day none of it matters. We’re all just pawns, and that’s all you’ll ever see us as.”

The angel stays quiet. Can’t quite discern if Jun’s tirade is over. He narrows his gaze, opens his mouth as if he’s going to speak just to see if Jun will interrupt him. (He doesn’t.) He clears his throat and tries to remember the correct pitch for his Comforting Voice: this will prove to be a pivotal moment in Wen Junhui’s partnership with Upstairs, and he’s going to need it.

“Wen Junhui,” he attempts again. No, the tone isn’t right—needs to be a little lower. “Wen Junhui, I am… holding space for everything you’ve just told me.” That’s better. Sounds convincing enough. “Is it fair to say you feel abandoned and unimportant?”

Jun’s cheeks warm to a mortifying shade of red. “I guess,” he mumbles.

“Great!” Hoshi beams. “Thank you so much for trusting me with this sensitive information.” He snaps his fingers and another manila folder appears in front of Jun. “Since you’re feeling better, this is your next assignment! If you open to the first page, you’ll see the contractee’s name is Choi Seungcheol and that he is of the utmost import—”

“No.”

“—ance.” Hoshi, unused to being caught unawares not once but twice in the same conversation, simply blinks, limbs frozen mid-air. “Pardon?”

“I said no.”

“Right, right… See, I heard that, but I’m not following. What do you mean no?”

Jun stands and starts clearing off the desk. Not that there’s much on it besides a framed picture of himself sandwiched between his parents at his graduation and an unused candle. Peach bellini. Hoshi had procured it from who-knows-where, said it was “an important part of Internet history” (that Jun must’ve missed) and called it a “belated graduation gift,” except the smell was so sickly-sweet it immediately gave him a migraine as soon as the lid came off.

All of this is besides the point, which is this: Jun doesn’t need this office. He doesn’t need this weird job where he reports to these weird people.

He says as much.

“Hey!” Hoshi objects, to which Jun responds, “You’re wearing a shirt with a cartoon wolf on it that says Fighting the Gay Allegations Again. I mean come on, dude, where do you even find these things?”

“You don’t like my shirts?”

“No! And I also don’t like that you just pretended to care about my feelings so I’d get back to work like a good little corporate soldier!” He’s able to fit the picture frame in his briefcase, but the candle doesn’t fit. Even if they’re arguing, it seems rude to give it back to Hoshi when he’d gone out of his way to get him a gift to begin with, so he lets out a frustrated screech and decides to carry it back to his apartment. “Find some other would-be Pope to help you.”

Although his face is blotchy and wet, Hoshi seems undeterred. There are, of course, no other would-be Popes available on such short notice—especially not one that’s earned the favor of the devil—so he needs to think up a plan quickly. If he fumbles Wen Junhui, he’ll either never hear the end of it from the lower-ranking angels or he’ll be stoned, and neither sounds very favorable right now.

So he does the only thing he can think to do: he snaps his fingers.

Kim Mingyu looks exactly like his picture.

He’s just as tall and symmetrically good-looking as Jun thought he would be, dressed in an impeccably-fitting white suit that elongates his legs and makes him look far taller than the six-foot-one-point-nine-repeating he’d measured in at. Dark, slightly wavy hair frames a perfect set of cheekbones, and whatever cologne he’s wearing nearly has Jun drooling.

He might actually be doing that, he realizes with horror, because Kim Mingyu also looks supremely uncomfortable. Is fluttering from one thing to the next, never staying more than a few seconds in each spot, tidying and organizing the same items over and over, muttering apologies all the while. And the board room really is not that big, so all that anxiety is starting to wear off on Jun, who was in his own office only a few minutes ago arguing with an angel that is currently nowhere to be found.

“So sorry about the mess!” Mingyu chimes. Jun can tell he’s trying (and failing) for unaffected. “I didn’t know we were having visitors, but no matter! My mother always used to say…” He pauses. Straightens his posture. Grabs a bouquet of white hydrangeas from a stunning pearlescent vase just to drop them right back in. “Er, I suddenly don’t remember anything my mother used to say.”

Jun grimaces and hides it behind his hand. “‘Have a wonderful day at school’?” he offers.

Mingyu smiles, makes a little a-ha! sound as he snaps his fingers; seems thankful for the lifeline he’d been thrown. Says, “Yes, yes, of course!” and starts fussing over the state of the table. He squirts a concerning amount of cleaner and wipes at it so aggressively Jun fears he’s going to wear a hole in the wood. “I’ve been told there was a slight security issue, but please rest assured that the rest of our guests should be arriving very soon! Any second now!”

That last bit comes out more like a demand.

Even though he feels far less intelligent than Hoshi claims he is, Jun is still smart enough to deduce he’d been snap-blasted to Heaven, not only because Mingyu is here and there are vaguely ominous security issues, but also because there’s a placard next to the door:

Board Room 17 Pearly Gates Wing

“It’s weird seeing you in real life after staring at the picture in your file for so long,” Jun says, continuing to look around. Everything is stark white, which he expected, with accents of gold that dazzles so brightly it hurts his eyes and pink freshwater pearl, and the flowers are abundant and fragrant. Jun feels at peace here. If it weren’t for Mingyu and his rapidly-fraying nerves, he might even call it tranquil. “I think I have a crush on you.”

Mingyu flushes. Unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth to stammer out a response that’s interrupted by three more figures materializing by the door.

Hoshi stands in the middle of Jeonghan and Joshua, arms slung around both of their shoulders. The two demons, naturally, do not look pleased. Jeonghan especially looks tortured, which is at odds with his new pink hair, and he’s the first to shrug off the angel. He grabs the chair closest to him and makes sure it scrapes against the floor as noisily as possible before slumping into it, arms crossed, scowl so fierce his frown lines nearly touch his jaw.

Joshua does the same, though he looks far more delighted to have a seat at the table.

From an invisible speaker, Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5 in C Minor comes blaring. Hoshi and Mingyu startle; the latter goes in search of a tablet, completely frazzled, mumbling oh no oh no oh no as he rummages through drawers. Jeonghan and Joshua side-eye one another and come away wearing matching glares. To his credit, Jun sits ramrod straight and doesn’t flinch. When no one’s looking he sticks his fingers in his ears to dampen the noise and smiles politely at Mingyu when they make awkward eye contact.

The music cuts out, Mingyu heaves a sigh of relief, and once the tense silence settles back into the room, he turns to Hoshi and stage whispers, “Should I put it back on, or…?” to which Hoshi frantically nods.

Opening blaring once again, it’s then that you walk through the door, flanked on all sides by an impressive security detail. (Heaven’s, of course. They’re also dressed in all white and wearing mitre hats with SECURITY embroidered across the front in gold beadwork. Jun wonders, briefly, if this is where Hoshi gets his inspiration from.)

You’re escorted to a seat. There are seven chairs on the side of the table opposite Jun; you’re given the one in the middle, and Jeonghan and Joshua immediately move to sit on each side of you. You carry yourself with an easy confidence, not at all rattled by being here in this setting. It’s almost comical how your body language contrasts with Hoshi and Mingyu: how they’re at home, where they’re meant to be, and their unease is so apparent; and you’re where you’ve been exiled from, antithetical to what you’ve been put in charge of, a place that Jun knows picks at all those old wounds like a buzzard, and your composure is faultless.

Something you have to be, he figures.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, what’s with the long faces?” you ask, brows knit in faux-concern. You look the same as the last time Jun saw you—he’s sure it’s a power play, meant to throw him off, and it works. Heat simmers along his skin as the memories come flooding back. He wonders what you look like to everyone else. “It’s so lovely to see you all again.” You turn to Mingyu, who seems to shrink under your undivided attention. “Especially you, handsome. We’ve all been mourning the loss of our favorite eye candy.”

Mingyu squeaks. “Um!” He scrambles to the head of the table. His hands shake as he tries to unlock the tablet. “There’s, uh—an ag-agenda! For this me-meeting. Very important! Just one moment, please, and I’ll—”

“Very fascinating,” Jeonghan interjects. “Do you anticipate this happening at any point today? I have to oversee a workshop this afternoon about new ways to make men insecure about their penises and I simply cannot miss it. It’s my second-favorite event of the year.”

“What’s the first?” Jun can’t help but ask.

“The social media workshops. Next month’s is about online bullying and new ways to avoid getting banned by safeguarding teams so you can continue trolling in peace without fear of repercussions. The one after that is about sending in anonymous gossip to those Spotted In Such-and-such Facebook pages for places no one cares about.”

Joshua nods. “I think the Stevenage one is my favorite. When’s the workshop about the new Lego shapes to step on?”

Mingyu’s mouth snaps closed. In an attempt to nip the derailment in the bud, Hoshi says, “I think what our Head of HR meant to say was—”

“HR? None of you are human.”

“It stands for Heaven Relations, obviously,” Hoshi snaps, “and we’ve called this emergency meeting because we’ve been made aware of a very troubling development.”

You gasp. Lean forward and widen your eyes like you have no idea what he could possibly be referring to. “No! A troubling development, you say?” You fold your hands on the table. “Tell me all about it.”

Jun, however, cannot possibly play it so cool. Feels dread overtake his body as restless anxiety sets in. The mind reader that he is, Joshua sends him a discreet wink that does very little to settle his nerves. Still feels like he’s drank fifteen cups of light roast coffee and is about to sit for a law school exam he forgot to study for.

“It has come to our attention that…” Mingyu looks down at the tablet. Looks up and over at Hoshi. Grimaces. “Do I really have to say this?”

“Yes.”

He huffs and continues. “It has recently come to our attention that one Wen Junhui, would-be Pope and recently-licensed lawyer accepted into a contracted position at Their approval, has engaged in… sexual relations… with the being known colloquially as the Devil.”

Jeonghan looks sideways at you with the most disgustedly disappointed look Jun has ever seen appear on a face. To the contrary, Joshua leans across the table to high-five him and say, “You dirty dog! I bet it was better than that handjob, huh?” He leans back, whistles low. “Goddamn, why is it every time you get some action it’s like some end of days shit? You ever consider becoming celibate?”

“Not involuntarily,” Jun mumbles.

“Shame,” Jeonghan intones. You laugh at this.

Hoshi, once again fed up with his meeting being derailed, says to Jeonghan and Joshua, “Why are you two even here?” to which they reply, “We’re her advocates. We’re advocating.”

“No advocating has ever taken place while the three of you have been in this room.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “At ease, Megamind.”

“Metatron,” Mingyu quietly corrects.

Jun snorts. Of course. Of course Hoshi is one of the most powerful archangels in Heaven. Speaker of God, permitted to be in Their presence and at Their side; celestial scribe and guide to humanity—the guy who appears earthside wearing crude t-shirts and stupid hats. Of-fucking-course.

All of this is enough to drive him to lunacy. All the things he didn’t and doesn’t know, all the secrets kept locked up tight, all the jokes he continues to be the butt of. Everyone in this room is on equal footing except him, and he’s the one seemingly on trial. Heaven doesn’t care what you do—your role is to sow chaos and they’re powerless to stop you, just as you’re powerless here. No, the only one that will feel the repercussions of this is Jun, not only because he’s the only one capable of being punished, but because he’s human.

He must sense his distress again, because Joshua mouths a watch this before saying, with all the conviction and tenacity of a seasoned prosecutor, “Allow me to advocate, then: we do not accept these accusations as fact without being presented with irrefutable proof, which I’m sure you have, considering you’ve made such a show of gathering us all here.”

Mingyu and Hoshi share a look.

“I—well, you see—”

“Surely you don’t need irrefutable proof to understand what a conflict of interest this is and why we’re concerned.”

“A conflict of interest which surely has already taken place?” Jeonghan tacks on. Joshua nods with grave sincerity. “Or have you called an impromptu, emergency meeting to discuss hypotheticals?” Mingyu and Hoshi share another look. “Gentlemen, need we remind you of the criteria that must be met before an emergency meeting may be called? I cannot imagine two high-ranking employees such as yourselves disregarded such strict protocols simply because of the parties involved?”

“Haaa, of course not!” Hysterical, frenzied laughter ensues. “No, no, we would never—”

Joshua shakes his head. “It sure is looking like that’s what has taken place here today, but I hate to assume the worst, so if you could just show us the permits I’m sure we can get this all cleared up.”

“Per-permits…?”

Jeonghan has all the patience in the world as he replies, “Section 894, subsection 12 of the accords states that in order for an emergency meeting to be called and granted between the constituents of Heaven and Hell, the proper permits must be filed and signed off on by the governing bodies of each at least 72 hours in advance. Now, it’s possible the paperwork was signed on our side, but as you know our boss is very, very busy and it seems to have been misplaced, so we have no way of confirming this.” You nod, sharing Joshua’s very serious look. “Hence the permits. Show them to us, please.”

There’s hope yet that Jun will get out of this. Be on the receiving end of his own strategy. Jeonghan and Joshua start up a show us the per-mits! show us the per-mits! chant that sends Hoshi and Mingyu into a panic. The latter, now soaked through with sweat, does a fruitless search on his tablet, while Hoshi tries to distract everyone with an interpretive dance none of them can make sense of.

“I believe this is a reflection of his current state of mind,” you say solemnly, playing the part of an esteemed art critic. “It’s histrionic on the surface, but once you dig deeper, it’s uncontrolled and frenetic at its roots. A wonderful metaphor for a fractured, disjointed mind, but severely lacking in execution.”

“Amen,” Jeonghan and Joshua say in unison.

Minutes pass. It’s clear the permits don’t exist, but Mingyu keeps up the charade of searching anyway, much to the delight of the Hell delegation. “Have you tried the top drawer of that thing?” Joshua asks right after Jeonghan suggests checking the trash folder on the desktop in his office. You, of course, stay quiet, content to soak up your victory in silence—albeit while looking extremely smug.

“Well!” you say, clapping your hands together with a wicked smile. “This was fun. Thank you both so much for the invite, but I fear we must be going. Duty calls.”

Hoshi is having none of this. Permits be damned, another snap of his fingers finds you bound to your chair, chains wrapped around each of your forearms. You hiss at the contact. “Whoa,” Jun whispers, and if Jeonghan’s and Joshua’s mouths hadn’t been removed by the same finger-snap, he assumes there’d be a crude joke coming his way.

“The three of you would do well to remember who and where you are.” Hoshi speaks with all the authority bestowed upon him. It’s a stark difference from how Jun usually sees him—aloof and unserious, more like a court jester—and it has him straightening in his chair. “None of us will be leaving this room until the matter is resolved.”

You roll your neck. Press your tongue into the fat of your cheek but otherwise don’t move. Pain flashes across your face each time the chains leave fresh wounds in your skin and Jun wants to tell them to cut it out, call this whole thing off, say it doesn’t mean anything, but he’s still so clueless. Still so far out of his depth. These matters concern him but are so far beyond his pay grade it’s all he can do to keep treading water.

And you know this, because you say, “There is no conflict of interest. Everything is business as usual.”

Hoshi doesn’t even make eye contact as he retorts, “Which is useless, coming from you.”

Mingyu offers up a tight-lipped smile. “I think what my colleague is trying to say is that we simply cannot trust word of mouth in a matter as serious as this. As I’m sure you understand, Wen Junhui is a special case. It’s quite rare They enlist the help of humans in such circumstances, and if he is no longer able to perform his duties in an unbiased manner due to your influence—”

Teeth grit, you repeat, “There is no conflict of interest.”

Mingyu sighs. Sets down his tablet and narrows his gaze. He seems to have shaken off the dregs of doubt and uncertainty, because he looks powerful. Looks intimidating, which is not a word Jun would have used to describe him twenty minutes ago. “Need I remind you of your role in this universe? Chaos and temptation; calamity and destruction. You serve no one. You do not speak in truths, nor are you concerned with them. Your ambition and pride were your downfall, and it seems you have learned nothing in the years since.” He turns his attention to Jun. “And if you doubt what I say, remember I witnessed all of this with my own eyes.”

“Scandalous! And what were you doing at the devil’s sacrament, Kim Mingyu?”

Jun nods, earning him an incredulous look from Hoshi. “Well, she has a point,” he defends. “There is that saying about stones and glass houses or whatever. He wouldn’t have seen all of those things if he hadn’t made a deal with her in the first place.”

Hoshi is quiet. Mingyu looks betrayed. “Are you not going to—”

“He, too, has a point,” the angel concedes. “I mean, did you really have to do all that? You were already hot and tall, I just don’t—”

Even with no mouths, it’s obvious Jeonghan and Joshua are snickering.

The bickering continues before eventually devolving into baseless name-calling. Jun’s head snaps back and forth like he’s watching a tennis match, and it’s not that far off. Mingyu hones in on your lack of character, prompting Hoshi to chime in with something equally cruel or just nonsensical in an attempt to back him up, and you handle both of them with ease, laughing off their taunting just to get under their skin. Which works, of course, so on and on it goes, ad nauseam, until Jun puts everyone out of their misery and puts an end to it.

“Isn’t anyone going to ask me how I feel?” At once the room goes silent, all squabbling ceased, and the sudden quiet has his ears ringing. “I know you don’t need me,” he says to you, amazed he can meet your eye when he feels like that admission is going to make him vomit. He turns to Mingyu and Hoshi. “But you two do, and throughout this whole experience I have been left out, lied to, and talked over. Did either of you ever stop to consider that’s why I refused the assignment and it has nothing to do with her? That she’s telling the truth when she says there’s no conflict of interest?”

At least they have the good sense to look embarrassed.

Mingyu is the first to crack. He bows slightly at the waist and says, “On behalf of Heaven, I would like to offer you our deepest and most sincere apologies.”

Hoshi follows suit. “Right. Exactly what he said.”

Jun studies each of them. Mingyu, he knows, is just doing what any human resources officer worth their salt would do: protect the company at all costs. Fortunately this works out in Jun’s favor. He’s important and necessary and, against all odds, has proven his worth and abilities to boot. Heaven can’t negotiate with Hell without him, and it’s this knowledge that spurs him on, has him crossing one leg over the other and folding his arms across his chest. Total power stance. Hoshi gapes a little.

“I think there’s a compromise to be found here.”

The compromise is this: just as there are souls in Hell that were meant to go to Heaven, the reverse is also true. Jun had stumbled across them during his hours of research: souls that had somehow slipped through the cracks and went north when they were meant to go south; souls stuck in an endless purgatory that a lax Judgment Deliverer let in because they didn’t feel like doing paperwork; judgment numbers in which an integer got input incorrectly. What he proposes is a one-for-one trade. Heaven wants Choi Seungcheol, so they’ll have to give up someone in return.

It evens the playing field—

“Which was the original intention, was it not?”

More importantly, and perhaps more selfishly, Jun will no longer be able to be used as a pawn. He’ll uphold his original agreement while doing the same for you—for Hell. He’ll rewrite the terms and conditions of the contracts after each soul has been judged fairly and impartially by both factions, essentially voiding the concept of sides.

“I would be working for you both,” he concludes. “It’s the only way any of this remains fair.”

(He’s also not trying to invoke your wrath and spend eternity getting dipped in hot oil, but he doesn’t feel it’s the right time to admit that.)

After a lengthy silence that Hoshi spends pressing against his ear, the angel eventually says, “Heaven is amenable to these terms if Hell is.”

You heave a long-suffering sigh that has Jun on the edge of his seat. This proposal was certainly better than the last one he’d pitched you, but you’re giving nothing away. Also of little help are Jeonghan and Joshua who have fallen asleep and are snoring loudly. Mingyu leans over to wipe a spot of drool from the corner of Joshua’s mouth. He doesn’t move.

After what feels like a lifetime, you nod. “Fine. Hell is also amenable to these terms.” A chorus of cheers. Jun does an embarrassing little wiggle out of excitement. Hoshi stands on top of the table and pumps his fist. Mingyu, still in HR mode, starts listing off all the potential new job titles for Jun.

(In the end his new name tag reads: Wen Junhui, Special Counsel to Heaven & Hell, Contracts Division.)

Before you leave, and before the celebrations can get too out of hand, Jun clears his throat. “I have a request,” he says, before adding on, “if the whole payment in forms other than money thing is still on the table.”

“It is,” Mingyu confirms.

“Great.” He sucks in a breath. Lets it go all disjointed and shaky. There’s no going back once he says this and they grant it—which they will, considering the way Mingyu’s nearly tripping over himself to give him whatever he wants. But it’s still a massive ask. It will still change the trajectory of his existence, just like that handjob had done. And even though he’s certain it’s what he wants, he still wonders if he’s making a mistake as he says, “I want to be immortal.”

Jeonghan and Joshua jerk awake. “What the fuck did he just say?”

Hoshi, too, looks stunned. “Uh, are you sure?”

No, Jun wants to say, please talk me out of it, but the words die in his throat when he looks at you. There’s not a hint of bewilderment to be found. No shock or awe. There’s just the smallest nod of your head, meant just for him, that says all he needs to hear—that you see him, that you recognize he’d gone through all of this insanity because he needed to find his own path, and that he’s finally found in it the meaning he’d been searching for.

“I’m sure,” he confirms, completely void of hesitation.

Hoshi scratches at the back of his neck. “Well, I—that’s quite a big request. I’ll have to see what we can do.”

Mingyu, however, spoils the inevitable surprise by giving him a thumbs-up.

After that, there isn’t much left to say. Mingyu formally concludes the meeting and thanks Hell for their attendance and participation, to which Jeonghan gives him the finger before disappearing in a plume of smoke that causes everyone to gag. Joshua takes advantage and slips out the door undetected. Mingyu and Hoshi are none the wiser until some of the employees down the hall start screaming. “Please excuse us,” Mingyu chokes out before he, too, disappears in the direction of the shouting. Hoshi hangs back, tries to swallow his amused smile, but then Mingyu returns to drag him away.

Only you and Jun remain. “What did Joshua do?” he asks, less to break the silence and more because he’s nosy.

“Released roughly three dozen of those terrifying tarantulas that eat birds.”

“Oh.”

Silence creeps in anyway—not awkward, but Jun can tell there’s something you want to say. Should he hover? He doesn’t want you to feel obligated (not that you would), but he can’t deny that he’s curious. You, the literal devil, reluctant to say something to him, just a human? It’s too good an opportunity to pass up.

“You’re not gonna get all clingy and weird now that we’ve had sex, are you?” he jokes.

Shockingly, you do not find this funny. “I may have lied about inventing Jenny McCarthy, but I did invent the guillotine. And the electric chair. And the rack—”

“Noted,” Jun replies, giddy all over. Can’t help it as he shoves his hands in the pockets of his slacks and rocks back on his heels. “Should I walk you to the door?”

“Don’t you dare,” comes your response, but Jun does it anyway. Gets away with it by dropping some quip about his mother raising him to be a gentleman, and it’d just destroy her if she knew Jun wasn’t abiding by her teachings.

Your reluctant smile is akin to pulling teeth, but it still shows up.

Whatever havoc had been wreaked by Joshua seems to have been solved. There’s blissful silence as the two of you reach the door, and Jun knows his escort is pomp and circumstance, that you could disappear in the blink of an eye the way Jeonghan had, but he appreciates you going through the motions for his sake, that you’ve allowed him a moment of normalcy.

“Was it hard coming back here?” he asks, leaning against the door frame to stem his desire to reach out for you.

“Well, it’s certainly never easy, but I’ve got plenty of psychologists down there I can talk it over with if need be.” You check an invisible watch. “Do you think Freud is available for lunch tomorrow?”

“If he’s not, I am.”

A bark of shocked laughter has you covering your mouth. “I did not expect that from you.”

“Did it work?”

“No,” you reply instantly. “Have a great weekend, Wen Junhui. I’m sure our paths will cross again soon.”

Jun nods… which is about all he can do, considering he’s stuck here for the time being. Hoshi sent him here, which means Hoshi’s the only one who can send him back—some stupid security rule Jun wasn’t paying attention to when it’d been explained to him. So he sticks the corner of his thumb in his mouth, thinks about how great your ass looked in those pants as you walked away, and pivots back into the conference room to await the angel with the stupid t-shirts.

Except, as soon as he turns around, there you are. Face to face. Close enough that your scent is paralyzing, but it’s different now—softer, he thinks; something that makes him feel less like he’s been ensnared in your web and more like he’s been invited in. Close enough that when you lean in he can feel the warmth of your breath on his skin, that sensitive spot just below his ear.

“You were wrong,” you say, so quiet he’s not sure he isn’t imagining your words, filling in the blanks of what he wants to hear. “What you said earlier, about me not needing you.”

Then you’re gone.

In the blink of an eye, just like he thought you’d be.

He makes a mental note to be available tomorrow around lunchtime.

If you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading! Sharing and reblogging my work is the best way to say you enjoyed it, but I also accept any and all feedback and screaming in my inbox. <3

[liorae]

Perfect Pretend ୨୧ 𝓨ang 𝓙ungwon

𝓼ynopsis : Trying to avoid your friend’s matchmaking attempts, you fabricate the perfect, ideal boyfriend. However, when your curious friends press to meet him, you hastily share the name of an unsuspecting stranger. What starts as a harmless lie spirals into chaos as your friends become determined to meet the man behind the photos, leaving you struggling to keep your perfect pretend from unraveling.

𝓹airing: influencer!jungwon x fem!reader. 𝓰enre: social media au, strangers to lovers, fluff, possible angst.

𝔀arnings: cursing, kys/kms jokes, bad attempt at humor, and possibly more to be added.

𝓼tatus: ongoing, to be updated daily! taglist: open, send an ask or comment to be added!

𝓯eaturing: WEEEKLY’s Jihan as YN, 8TURN’s Yungyu, STAYC’s Yoon, BOYNEXTDOOR’s Taesan, NMIXX’s Sullyoon, KISS OF LIFE’s Belle, and IVE’s Wonyoung.

PROFILES.

psych ward | microcelebs

CHAPTERS.

prologue. someone is bitter

one. the way i would kms

two. bitchless syndrome

three. hard launch yeah <3 (0.4k 💬)

four. operation : yngyu

five. why so ominous (0.2k 💬)

six. whats with the interrogation

seven. code red

eight. don’t do anything stupid

nine. are you flirting with me (0.5k 💬)

ten. is your girlfriend single (0.3k 💬)

eleven. addicted to serving cunt

twelve. answer before i kms (0.9k 💬)

thirteen. yang jungwon? is that you? (0.6k 💬)

fourteen. do you think they’ll last (0.6k 💬)

fifteen. girlfriend since when ??

sixteen. go suck on one taesan

seventeen. are we starting a band or what

( and more chapters to come! )

[emojellyace08]

Hiii! I love the way you write and I was wondering if I could make a request (only if you want)

So how about the lookism boys reaction to an extremely beautiful and ethereal fem!reader who is like so feminine and ethereal she looks like a princess from a fairytale and even animals love her??

Anyways remember to stay safe and healthy!!

Lookism Men x Stunning Fem! Reader

Hiii Thanks for the request @jejegilipollas! This kind of reminds me of a Disney Princess reader! I'll be doing headcannons for almost every Lookism Men so I wouldn't leave out who you actually simp for xD. And remember all of us are really pretty in our on ways and we're all equal. And stay safe and healthy too! Warnings: insecurities, mentions of trauma, mature themes for the bottom/second part Genre: fluff ☁️ angst 🥀, slight lemon/smut 🍋 slight crack (comedy)🧨 ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Daniel Park/Jay Hong/Zack Lee/Vasco/Eli Jang/Warren Chae/Jerry Kwon/Johan Seong/Jake Kim/Sinu Han/Duke Pyeon/Jace Park/Line Man/Brad Lee/Jiho Park/Magami Kenta/Young Jinyoung Park/Young Gapryong Kim/Jichang Kwak/Taesoo Ma/Xiaoleoung/Jihan Kwak/Jibeom Kwak/Yuseong

He doesn't really prioritize having a "Goddess or too good to be true looking girlfriend" since he already has lots of trauma and he's been really stressful lately. So having a dependable, trust-worthy, and helpful partner is enough for him.

But when he saw you, a transferee student/staff on his school/working place he couldn't stop staring at you. He may look like a creep so when you turn in his direction, so he'll look away pretty fast. But you took notice of this and knowing your friendly personality and warm vibes, you thought befriending him isn't a bad idea.

So when you approached him, he couldn't help but to blush and be awkward around you. He thinks that you're too good for him and he's out of your league. Your smart, pretty, kind, you name it. Because of his insecurities getting in his way, he doesn't really know if he even deserves to stay beside you. But after getting to know you better, you're not really a judgmental person and you're always staying beside him even when things aren't really going well for him. So he really learned how to trust you more.

He's also the type to innocently admire your beauty. He'll definitely shower you with lots of pure compliments! "Hi Y/N!" "Oh hello." you greeted him back with a soft voice as he noticed your hair tied in a different hair style since you often let your hair be loose down. "Your hair looks pretty today." he complimented you while rubbing his nape feeling shy. "Oh really? Thank you!" you smiled back at him, you've been feeling down lately because of your pretty privilege making you insecure. But his compliments just makes your day better. "Yeah, no problem."

You may not know it but it's obvious that he's an animal lover. And he always adopts or feed stray pups and kittens who either lost their way or have gotten abandoned by their animal parent or owner. So you asked him about this and he seems pretty flustered when you brought about the topic and you couldn't help but to giggle at his reaction. Oh God, your voice sounds so pretty. He really can't help but to admire you even more. He just really can't help but to compliment you a lot though you can hear the shy and bashful tone beneath his voice.

So when you're walking home after school/work, you saw a little kitten crying near the road. You decided to gently approach the animal since it can get hurt by a vehicle if you just let it be. You called for it's attention with a sweet voice. And unexpectedly, the cute furball didn't hesitate to rub her body on your leg making you chuckle. "You found a stray kitten?" you heard a familiar voice as you turned around to see that it's just him making you sigh. "Jesus, you scared me" you replied back as he softly chuckled and squatted down beside you making sure that he wouldn't scare the kitten away. "Shh, don't worry little one he's a nice guy" you cooed as he was shocked at your statement. Him? A nice guy? He couldn't help but frown thinking about the things he have done and the names people called him. He feels like you're too good for him, yet you're like a fire in a cold snowy weather. It may seems like your warm feeling can hurt him, but it's in fact the opposite. You made him feel, what's the word. Relaxed? Comfortable? He doesn't really know as he couldn't stay away from you no matter how many times he tried.

"So umm..." "Yes?" you asked him in a sweet tone as he tried completing his sentence, he couldn't help but stutter since he's been hiding his true feelings for you for a long time now. "I have pet food on my house, would you mind if we take her home?" he requested as your eyes sparkled. "Really? Sure! I was also planning to buy her food since it looks like she hasn't been fed for days." "Okay, but do you think you can carry her? Stray cats may have rabies if you got bitten y'know" he reminded you as you chuckled once again. "Don't worry. She let me touch her and it seems like she's getting used with my presence" "Sure. Let's go now" he stood up as you picked the little kitty on your warm arms. "So what will you name her?" he asked on his way home as you followed next to him. "Meowy!" (Chainsaw Man reference lol) "Meowy?" "Yeah. I couldn't think of a cool name. And when I saw her she didn't even hesitate to greet me, so I think Meowy will be her name" you stated as he can still see the light behind your eyes (MCR reference lol) as you petted the animal already felling asleep. He smiled at you as he thought how not only how beautiful you are, you also have a good heart. "Meowy is a pretty name. You should keep it" he replied back as you smiled at him and continued to thank him for helping you out on taking care of the little kitten. Can he just enjoy this moment with you? He have forgotten the danger outside the world as he has the desire to protect you. You really are his sunshine.

Gun Park/Samuel Seo/James Lee or DG/Magami Kenta/Hudson Ahn/Vin Ho Bin(Vin Jin)/Cheong Taejin/Mandeok/Olly Wang/Jiho Park (villain arc)

For the most part, he's not the type to be looking for a date unlike the others. He's not a hopeless romantic.

Though if he founds someone attractive he can't help himself to do the fling with them, releasing his stress on someone while making himself feel good. Yep, he's only fucking someone just so he can pleasure himself. Nothing more and nothing less.

But he can't help but to curious the moment he laid his eyes on you. You're cute to be honest, he won't deny that. You look and act so fragile, innocent most likely. You're also very gentle, sweet and passionate. Contrasting his wild and bold side. He's like a wild animal. He's harsh, aggressive and cold. He never has the desire to be involved on a romantic relationship. He finds the idea of it cringy to be honest. He finds it making him vulnerable. And he finds the idea of having a soft spot on someone well what's the word, to be honest he can't put words on the idea of it.

He does wonder sometimes if he actually lived a decent life, but that doesn't mean that he has regrets of becoming who he is today. He's strong and he can handle things on his own which makes him proud of himself. But hearing it from you and showering him with pure and genuine compliments sounds and feel very different. "Wow! You're so cool and strong!" you stated as your eyes sparkled like little stars on the dark, starry night. He smirked at this, he must admit that you look so innocent and if you continued to act like this, he wouldn't hesitate to give you a kiss if he's more affectionate. "Well I know" he simply replied. Thinking about this moments make his head ache and his stomach grumble. It's not because he's sick, but is it because of what most called butterflies? He chuckled at the thought of it. It's useless. He doesn't need anybody let alone a girl, but he'll often look for your presence when you and him are away for each other even if it's not a very long time.

And it makes him wonder why do you always stay on his side. You and him are too different. You actually lived a decent and peaceful life with a healthy environment, unlike him who's always surrounded by thugs and who's often obsessed with money, power, drugs, alcohol and sex. As much as he doesn't want to admit it, he does like you. That's why he's always pushing you away. He doesn't want you to get hurt. And he'll definitely kicked someone's ass if they ever tried to lay their hands on you.

"Hey," he called for your attention as you looked at him with those doe-like eyes. His voice sounds a bit harsh and demanding, but after getting to know him better and getting close to him you know that he's just like that to everybody. And you know that he actually doesn't mean it to be like that. "Yes?" you asked him softly as he made eye-contact. "Why do you always stay next to me?" he asked curiously as it made you slightly upset to be honest. Does he think of you as a burden? Are you annoying? Well despite you always getting compliments from other people about how you look like a princess or Goddess that popped on a fairy tail and given life, you're actually insecure about yourself. Your gentle and feminine side can be annoying to some. You can't help but to feel like a little child that always needed to be protected and taken care of. And you often cared too much about others making you a people pleaser. "What do you mean?" you chuckled trying to hide your distress but he took notice of this. He doesn't mean to be rude, he sighed as he reconstructed his statement since you misunderstood it in the wrong way. "I mean, why do you stay beside me? You can get hurt you know?" he stated as your eyes sparkled once again. "Ahh, you mean in that way?" "Yeah." "Well, because you're really nice!" you honestly answered as he was shocked by your response. Really? Most people viewed him as an asshole for beating them up for his work. "You're joking right?" "Why do you think I'm joking? You're strong, kind well in some times, and you actually protected me when I need help." you smiled at him once again as he looked from a different direction trying to hide his blush. So far, that's the most genuine compliment he got from someone else.

And he also took notice of how gentle you are with animals. Not only you help out other people, but also those street kittens and pups that randomly pop up on streets. He just finds owning a pet a bit stressful since he already has lots of responsibility in his shoulders. "PLEASE CAN WE ADOPT HIM!" you pleaded as you cling on his arms making him groan. "No." "WHY!" "Well, I can't take care of it and I don't want to." he answered honestly but in a brutal way making you frown. If you have dog ears right now it will droop down and your eyes got bigger again like you're about to cry. "Please? I'll take care of it..." you put your hands together begging as he stares at you. He honestly find it cringy since he doesn't know if you're doing that on purpose or if you're just too soft. Not being able to stop you, he sighed. "Fine, but don't ask me to be his babysitter." he looked away as you smiled once again. "C'mon just tell me that you also find him cute!" "Shut up..." he may sound rude, but you can see that little smirk forming on his lips.

Goo Kim/Jake Kim/Kuroda Ryuhei/Yoojin/Sinu Han

This men will be a 100% simp for you (especially Goo and Ryuhei). He just founds you really hot, cute and pretty! Well you name it.

In some levels, they do care about their partner's appearance (remember having preferences are not bad ladies and gentle man). But they actually do not belittle others who are not their taste especially women since for the most part. He's a gentleman (or he tries to be).

To be honest, they're just secretly horny lmao. Remember they're still men so having a partner with a beautiful face and body just makes him worked up. Like, you don't have a right to be this pretty (he just praises you at this point).

But he does know deep inside that looks are not just a fundamental in having a partner. He does care about personality. He just honestly can't stand women who looks hot but just acts annoying and bitchy most of the time. It turns him off the most. But meeting you is one of the best blessing he have. Not only you look like a deity, but you also act like one. He just thought you're an angel who fell from the sky, in this hellish place called Earth. Did God sent you for him? Is life not finally being an ass to him? Who knows.

He'll also compliment you 24/7. Like his mouth just wouldn't stop talking about you. Like, in some levels you kind of find it annoying especially if you're the quiet one. You also probably thought at first that he's a perv but he's just being honest and appreciative! So you just brushed it off and you actually started appreciating his comments about you since it's not harming you in anyways. In fact it also boosts your confidence even more. "Y/N do you know how pretty you are?" he teased just to get a reaction out of you (and he also likes making you smile H:LKHDL:KHAL:KFH:LDKHA) "Of course I do" you smirked as you played along with him. "Well you actually look like a koala" "HEY THAT'S RUDE!" you stated as he laughed at your reaction "BUT KOALAS ARE CUTE!".

He also finds it adorable when you adopt stray animals. He just finds you "waifu material" girl. He also fantasizes about adopting 5 kittens or puppies with you and living on a peaceful and small town. You know, just the normal couple living their best life. Though he wouldn't be open about it since he finds it lowkey embarrassing lmao. "BABE! I FOUND A KITTEN ON A STREET!" "C'mon Y/N it's the fifth time you adopted a cat. Are you making an orphanage out of animals?" he teased as your kitten named Pebbles cling into him like a toddler begging for his dad's attention. "Please? I already have a name for her" you pleaded as he sighed knowing that he can't stop your motherly behavior with animals and besides he finds the cat cute too, it's a pure white kitten with blue sapphire like eyes. "What's her name though?" he asked curiously as you smiled and named the cat Snow. "Why won't you name her Elsa?" "C'mon love you make too much jokes." you sighed trying not to laugh as he chuckled at your reaction. "I'm just kidding, besides Snow's a really fitting name." he gently picked the cat on your arms and petting it. He just finds you daring. You're more than just your looks and he finds that fascinating :3.

A/N: I hope you really like it! It's kind of rushed yet late lmao. And I'm more of a cat person than a dog person but I still hoped you liked it!

[leafostuff]

Introduction & Groups i write for (2024 Ver)

So Hello Everyone, I am Leafo, also known as Leafostuff, as of today I have written 30 one-shots of smut and fluff accommodating over 1400 followers as of June 2024, So without much else to say besides that let's go over some rules

No minor idols allowed, and honestly don't really interact with this blog if you are a minor yourself (god bless the 13-year-old who reads my smuts)

As of today, my asks are NOT a place to ask for fic requests, sorry for all of those who wanted to request something from me

As stated in my announcement, I am switching to a Monthly Upload schedule however headcanons are stuff that will be more often and don't count for the monthly upload schedule (eg. a month could have 1 fic and maybe 1-2 headcanons)

If you see someone (In and out of Tumblr) who plagiarizes my fics WITH OR WITHOUT credit, please report to me in either DM's or asks, I really work hard on my stuff and people like those are really discouraging for writing

Compared to my previous rules there are less of them (1 less lol) however I do promise that the Groups I write for did change a lot from last time:

WooAh

Weeekly

CSR (Fluff Only)

StayC

Kep1er (Mostly Chaehyun)

Iz*one (as part of the Off*iz collab)

Fromis_9

LE SSERAFIM

IVE

KISS OF LIFE

Keep in mind that while those are the groups I write for, they aren't the only ones I write for as sometimes inspiration will come that will make me write someone else who isn't in this list

So with that, i hope you and everyone who has followed me up until now will enjoy the new Path i am starting as of this July

[koiiiji]

and what about damn Seoul?

tw ; arguing, but happy ending(quite?), fluff

summary ; Kwak Jibeom always felt like he was in the eye of a hurricane when Jihan, you and Jichang were arguing. but at the same time it was funny to watch — the king of Seoul always obediently gets up from the table every time you leave the family dinner because of another revealed secret — for example, how it was the last time you found out about another large illegal scheme that Jichang was pulling off, after he assured you for the hundredth time that this would never happen again

╭────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╮

it had been a relatively quiet evening when your boyfriend and his brothers finally arrived at family dinner. the aroma of grilled meats filled the air, and the clinking of utensils provided a backdrop to the awkward silence brewing between you and Jichang. the fight from earlier still hung heavy, casting a shadow over the meal.

Jihan poked at his plate, a scowl etched onto his face. his usual moody demeanor felt heightened tonight, and you weren’t about to let it slide.

“so, Jihan,” you began with a casual yet pointed tone, slicing through the silence like the edge of a knife. “how’s school going? keeping up with your studies?”

Jihan’s fork paused mid-air before clattering back onto his plate. he rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “school’s pointless. maybe i’ll just quit and become a gangster like him.” he nodded toward Jichang, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

room tensed. your gaze flickered to Jichang, expecting him to intervene. to say something. to defend the idea that his brother finishing school might matter. but he stayed silent, jaw tight, avoiding your eyes. it stung.

“Jihan,” you said firmly, your patience thinning, “school is important. at least finish high school. it’s not just about grades; it’s about giving yourself options —”

Jihan snorted, interrupting you. “what’s the point when people like us don’t need it?”

at that, Jibeom finally spoke up. “she got a point, you know. you’re not going to get far with that attitude.”

you shot Jibeom a grateful glance, but the tension was palpable. Jihan shifted uncomfortably, mumbling something under his breath.

“excuse me?” you asked, raising a brow.

“vixen,” he muttered, just loud enough for you to catch.

you froze. Jibeom looked between the two of you with wide eyes, while Jichang’s hand clenched into a fist — but still, he said nothing. the silence from your boyfriend hurt more than Jihan’s insult.

without a word, you stood up from the table, your chair scraping against the floor. the heat of frustration bubbled beneath your skin. “you know what? enjoy your dinner.” you throw your napkin and left the room.

╰────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╯

╭────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╮

hour later, you sat on the couch, still fuming. the faint sound of footsteps caught your attention, and you looked up to see Jihan and Jichang standing in the doorway. Jihan looked sheepish, while Jichang carried his usual stoic expression, though his eyes held a flicker of regret. his snake eyes narrowed and waving his head, he invited his brother to step forward.

“Jihan has something to tell you.”

younger shuffled forward, rubbing the back of his neck. “i... i’m sorry,” he mumbled, avoiding your gaze.

you sighed, your frustration softening slightly. “Jihan,” you said gently, standing up and stepping closer to him. placing your hands on either side of his face, you tilted his head so he had no choice but to look at you.

“listen to me,” you began, your voice firm but kind. “i’m not asking you to go to college or to have everything figured out. but please — please — finish high school. at least that. your brother is working hard to give you two a good life. you’re at a wonderful school in Seoul, living your best years, your youth, even if you don’t see it now...”

and your warm smile disarmed him. Jihan’s face flushed crimson, and he quickly averted his eyes.

“actually, about Seoul...” he muttered, glancing at Jibeom, who had now entered the room and leaned against the doorframe.

“what about Seoul?” you asked, your concern growing. you looked at Jibeom, then at Jichang, who sat silently on the couch behind Jihan, watching the exchange.

“what about damn Seoul?” you demanded, your voice rising.

╰────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╯

╭────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╮

“let me get this straight,” you said, pacing back and forth. “some crazy Mexican guy came to Seoul, beat up your people, attacked you with an axe and claimed himself as a king of Seoul — so now we have to leave the city and hide out in the countryside?”

Jibeom nodded solemnly, “he also ate raw meat” he added, as if it was an important detail that you missed. Jihan stared at the ground and Jichang remained seated, arms crossed, his face unreadable.

you ran a hand through your hair, exasperated. “no, hold on —” you stopped, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. “i’m going to need a glass. no, several glasses of wine. i’ve had enough of this.”

Jichang finally spoke, his voice low. “i should’ve told you earlier.”

“you think?” you snapped, shooting him a glare. he flinched slightly but didn’t argue.

as you poured yourself a generous glass of wine, you couldn’t help but wonder how you’d gotten yourself into this mess. then again, looking at the three brothers and you knew you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“well,” you muttered, swirling the wine in your glass. “here’s to surviving whatever chaos comes next.”

╰────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╯

MASTERLIST

[lookismfanfics]

𝐁𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐.

Notes: If ya’ll want part 3 it’ll probably include Goo, Vin, Daniel, Jihan, and whoever else you guys want. Just a heads up!

Warnings: Fluff, nudity (not explicit), wholesomeness, mild cursing, mentions of violence

Eugene • Gun • Zack • Johan • Jake • Lineman • Jason • Hudson

𝐄𝐮𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞

🝮 The candles, assortments of expensive shampoos, classic piano melodies playing from the speakers, and altogether romantic atmosphere weren’t out of the normal for Eugene.

🝮 Shower time was usually like this. He was busy, and needed to unwind… but in a timely manner.

🝮 The only thing different about the bathroom today was you.

🝮 You. Crouched by the tub, pouring globs of bubble-bath solution carelessly into the foamy water. Wrapped in his a luxurious robe.

🝮 Eugene takes off his quickly-steaming glasses, wiping them gingerly against his shirt.

🝮 “What’s all this about, (Y/N)?” He asks. No doubt he’s forming an answer of his own right now. You smile coyly.

🝮 He likes that smile on you. Your casual wit and intellect never fails to charm his cooly-intelligent and egotistical self.

🝮 “It’s your shower time. Says so on the calendar,” you state. “I told you sharing our Cloud wasn’t an invitation for you to spy on my personal schedule,” he counters.

🝮 He ends up cracking a smile anyway. The type of smile he reserves specifically for your enjoyment.

🝮 “Whatever. Get in.” You gesture towards the tub, unfazed as Eugene stares at you cooly. “Sorry. You want privacy undressing or something?”

🝮 His sharp “yes” falls on deaf ears. You both end up stifling giggles and sharing looks as he piles his clothes on the floor.

🝮 The soap suds in the tub are an off-white color. Eugene hates dyed bath bombs.

🝮 After he submerges himself in the water and has a book in his hand, you take to kissing his knuckles and smoothing out his hair.

🝮 Neither of you converse very much. He smirks whenever your eyes meet, though.

🝮 It’s elegant and intimate. That’s norm for being in a relationship with Eugene.

𝐆𝐮𝐧

🝮 It started off with a workout.

🝮 Gun, the ridiculous bast*rd, trying his hardest to overwork you till your bones break. For the sake of getting stronger.

🝮 And now that that’s over, it’s your turn.

🝮 Exasperated and breathless as you push on his bare chest, trying to force him through the doorway of the bathroom

🝮 “Just— get— in— Gun!” You huff, slapping your hand roughly against the side of his torso.

🝮 He’s such a pig sometimes.

🝮 On his own he walks backwards and sits down in the bathtub. Soapy water engulfs his frame. His normal nonchalance is wasted on you. All he ever seems to do is smirk when you’re around.

🝮 You mumble “jerk” and in response he tells you to “eat ass”

🝮 You hold his head underwater for that-

🝮 He chooses the soap. A musky, expensive brand. Something that smells like him.

🝮 While Gun scrolls boredly through his classical playlist you take off your clothes.

🝮 Hop right in beside him, let him spread his legs and lean against his back. He doesn’t mind. Actually, he prefers it that way.

🝮 “You did good today,” Gun remarks. He leans his head back against the wall. You hum in reply.

🝮 It’s not so much a bath as it is a warm soak.

🝮 Gun’s hands rub down your legs roughly. Even if he isn’t gentle, per say, it feels nice for your aching muscles.

🝮 “You weren’t so bad yourself,” you reply. He chuckles at that.

🝮 You’ll come out of that bath with Gun’s signature scent all over you. He doesn’t mind THAT at all.

𝐙𝐚𝐜𝐤

🝮 If athletic had a scent… then it would smell exactly like Zack Lee’s shampoo.

🝮 He digs his hands into the side of the bathtub and wills himself not to blush as you crouch beside him, pouring more bubble solution into the foggy water.

🝮 “Where’d you buy this anyway?” You ask, knowing Zack doesn’t like buying cheap brands. And it doesn’t smell bad, necessarily.

🝮 He swallows, eyes narrowing and a sheepish flush rising to his face. “I dunno. Do you not like it or something…?”

🝮 “No it’s fine. It smells like you.”

🝮 Zack’s hands are busted. His cracked knuckles are a clear indicator of the fight he had gotten himself into.

🝮 You grumble about it a little, but not too much. Just a simple, “I thought we talked about you getting into fights…” and then you dropped it.

🝮 You lathered your hands with shampoo, scrubbing deep into the roots of his hair.

🝮 You tenderly scrubbed across his body, knowing he was unable to with his mangled hands.

🝮 Sweet, rushed kisses followed. Zack is such a simp— almost completely unable to look you in the eye, let alone return your affection.

🝮 The signiture-athlete-soap was down the drain. Zack dried himself off.

🝮 “You weren’t planning on doing this again… were you?” He calls. When you don’t answer, his chest deflates.

🝮 “(Y/N)— ARUGH!”

🝮 The door slams

🝮 “Why are you naked?!”

🝮 “I’m getting in the shower too…!”

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐚𝐧

🝮 Puppy eyes. That’s what he gives you.

🝮 Where did he learn this sacred guilt-tripping art from? His dogs?

🝮 Either way, you shake your head.

🝮 “Look, you can use the bathroom to shower- or whatever. But I’m not helping you.”

🝮 Johan: 🥺

🝮 Five minutes later, you’re helping him.

🝮 He’s half naked, and had reprimanded you for staring. “It’s not that big of a deal,” or whatever crap he said.

🝮 You are currently checking the water temperature.

🝮 “Look, using my bathtub is pretty straightforward. Once you get it to the temp you like you can just plug in the drain cap. Okay?”

🝮 You demonstrate. Johan nods.

🝮 “Okay. Soap is there… and-yeah. Have fun Johan.”

🝮 You rise, dodging him and beelining for the door. You have other things, after all-

🝮 “Wait,” Johan mumbles.

🝮 You look over your shoulder, met head-on with those baby brown eyes of his. Johan blinks. His brows are furrowed slightly in contemplation. Or whatever is going through his pea-brain.

🝮 “Can you get in with me?”

🝮 🫠

🝮 (I can’t tell you what to do. Hop in or leave him hanging- 💅)

𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞

🝮 His shirt slips off a solid abdomin and exposes inked shoulders and chest. His tattooed arms flex as the shirt falls to the side.

🝮 This display is… seen by no one. Jake has no audience in the empty bathroom but himself.

🝮 He cranes his neck to catch sigh of some scrapes and bruises on his back. It not too difficult. Even through his peripherals the purple splotches are obvious.

🝮 With a sigh, Jake begins to unzip his pants and unclamp his belt—

🝮 THE DOOR CREAKS

🝮 A towel covers him in a second. (Since when has he been self-conscious??) The door opens completely to let you in.

🝮 You… with your arms full of bath and medical supplies.

🝮 You set down the things and face a nervously smiling Jake. The towel is snatched out of his grasp in a millisecond.

🝮 “Don’t bother hiding it Jake. I know you look like a wreck,” you snap.

🝮 Jake? Self-conscious? Nah. Afraid of your wrath? Maybe.

🝮 The water is turned on and soon the bathtub is filled. Eventually the soapy water cradles Jake’s large figure.

🝮 Your hands feel nice against his sore skin, he thinks. He stays still as you wash off his cuts and bruises… let’s you wet his hair and scrub soap into his scalp.

🝮 “I love you,” he smiles. Cheeky.

🝮 You sigh and press a kiss against his cheek. “I know.”

🝮 Bubbles eventually popped… the water was drained. Jake’s favorite part was being dried off anyway. He likes his hair being ruffled by you… the soft towel rubbing down his back and legs.

🝮 In the end he smells like strawberries. You can’t help but tease him about that.

🝮 Argument avoided successfully 👍

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧

🝮 In all honesty you had never seen Lineman without a shirt on. You’d only… heard about it.

🝮 But anyway. Here you are. Pouring soap onto a washcloth and dabbing it on his temple.

🝮 The excessive amount of bath bombs were completely necessary. You didn’t need to be flashed.

🝮 Lineman sits as still as possible, not wanting soap to get into his eyes. He mumbles about how nice the water feels and how he’s grateful that you’re taking care of him.

🝮 “Why does it smell so peachy?” He asks suddenly, cupping some of the water in his hand.

🝮 You shrug. “It’s just the scent I guess.”

🝮 Bandaids have fallen off and are thrown in the trash. You apply neosporin to the cut over his eyebrow.

🝮 You’re about to pour some water into his hair but he dodges out of the way. Something about a hair routine. Admittedly it is one of his nicest features…

🝮 “Ya don’t have to do that, (Y/N). I’m good,” he tells you sheepishly. He says that a lot actually. He’s capable of turning on the water… cleaning his banged-up body… drying off…

🝮 You do all those things for him anyway. He just complies bashfully and lets it happen.

🝮 Afterwards you ask him to take his clothes off more often (as a joke.) He takes you completely seriously- 😳

𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧

🝮 It’s not that Jason can’t be romantic, but between the two of you, you’re typically the more… intimate one

🝮 This weekend was a bit different though. And without getting into explicit details, you’ve spend a fair share of romantic time together.

🝮 So now, to unwind, you’re grabbing your bath kit and treating the two of you to some self-care. (The bath bombs needed to be used. Lua gifted them to you two Christmas’ ago-)

🝮 You settle for a green colored… minty scented soap. With the pigmented water bubbling and steaming, you decided now was the time to hop in.

🝮 You sink into the tub 🛁

🝮 Jason comes in a few minutes later with some towels and a book for you.

🝮 “Don’t you wanna get in?” You ask. He splashes you with some water and gives some sort of embarrassed reply.

🝮 He uses a loofah to scrub your back. “Isn’t the water too hot?”

🝮 “Nope. Just you.”

🝮 *More aggressive splashing*

🝮 “You’re worse than Jake,” he mumbles, dropping the loofah and sitting against the wall. You just smile in return.

𝐇𝐮𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐧

🝮 “What kind of scents do you like?” You’d ask. He wouldn’t give you an answer.

🝮 “Hudson…! I’m for real!” You’d say. Still, nothing.

🝮 “Please just answer my question-” you grumbled. Nothing.

🝮 Hudson didn’t want you to spoil him (that’s… not exactly what you had in mind but-) and he definitely didn’t need you spending your money on HIS beauty products.

🝮 Ever since he joined the Allied…. Idiots (there’s not a nicer way to put it) he’s begun to realize that his own products and routines are pretty low-key.

🝮 He went over Jay’s penthouse once. To drop something off. The dude was basically butt naked, wearing just a skimpy robe. What was that all about? Apparently he was in the middle of some hour-long beauty ritual.

🝮 Then there’s Zack Lee. Don’t even get Zack STARTED on using hair gel… or washing your face… using an exfoliator…

🝮 Compared to them, Hudson just kinda… showered? The soap brand he used jumped from whatever was available. So when he told you he didn’t have a favorite scent, he was being completely honest.

🝮 So you took a guess. Picked out some honeysuckle bubble soap. Some matching scented shampoo. Now you dip your finger into the water to test if it’s okay.

🝮 Behind you Hudson reluctantly takes off his clothes. He takes better care of his sweater than his pants, which he just flops on the floor and toes out of the way.

🝮 You gesture for him to get in.

🝮 “I never asked you to do this…” he murmurs, slipping underneath the sudsy water.

🝮 You nod. “I know. I just felt like it.”

🝮 You kiss his knuckles and help wash his back. You also tease him about his wet, flat hair—

So sorry for the delay everyone! Going to hustle through requests!!

[wonik1ss]

✦ JUST SWINGING IN — ❝ kim minji ❞

[ 널 내게로, burn it up, 네 손길로, turn it up ]

synopsis • after meeting spider”man” in a mall robbery you just can’t seem to shake the city’s hero ( 4.4k ) fluff < playlist rec : just swinging in 🕸️ >

a/n : it’s finally here ! my longest fic !

you adjusted your glasses as you got down to your beakers level. just one drop and your class would be-

“oh I’m such a klutz sorry..”

“y/n..”

“yeah yeah”. hana waved you of as she pretended to limp over to your freshly 24 year old professor.

“we can use mine..”. yunah giggled as you got ahold of her hand grasping it for dear life.

“oh you sweet sweet angel!”

“calm down I already finnished anyways ..!”. you thanked your friend again and then began to jot down some notes. you were not even three months into college when your favorite class became your least favorite. last week your professor who looked like he was deadly close to kicking the bucket decided to fight a student and he ‘retired’ the school says by his own volition..

now with your new much younger professor you felt like panties were dropping left and right.

“it’s like seeing two birds mate..”. yunah playfully shushed you as a bell rang.

“ok see you all next week..!”. already packed up you and yunah giggled as your professor struggled to get your fellow classmate to leave too.

“so the mal-“

“can’t.. jihan needs to study for her science test and I can’t let her fail..!”. you nodded as yunah ran of to find her bestfriend. ever since you started all your new friends were old friends to others. so after school ended it was either frat party’s or staying at home binging kdramas.

you tried though. you went to three frat party’s in the three months you been their for no more then three minutes. after one minute you were seen as fresh meat, two y they stalked forward, and threw a bunch of horny college boys tired their luck with you

“his boobs were moving”. yunah tilted her head as she painted your nails.

“guys don’t have tits.. y/n”

“well.. he’s peeks like.. twitched..”. you heard a door open and you laughed at jihan s open mouth.

“you should have let me come..!”. as jihan played with your painted hand you went on to the point yunah had to close jihan a mouth herself.

snapping out of your daydream you stepped of the bus ear buds on. you went to get the essentials first. a new tooth brush since your roommate stepped on your old one, some more shower products then finally you got to your wants. walking into the sanrio store happy by wjsn playing in your ears.

you shopped to your hearts desire. or until you reached your debit cards limit. once you were done you wandered into a comic shop. but what caught your eye wasn’t the comics but the red and blue merch.

after coming to seol for that better education you soon found out in your part that somewhat resembled nyc a spiderman ran around helping peopl. last week it was snake in a tree, the next was the culprit of a cat napping and now you saw his suit on the cutest jacket.

$50

“fucking inflation”

“I know right..!”. you head jerked to the old white man in the front of the store.

“sorr-“

“no no I understand.. I tried to haggle it down but he’s just got to famous for that now..”. you smiled and as you put the tag of the jacket down you heard the caching.

“take it I’m closing up shop in a few days and it would suit you”. you tried to say no put the man put the jacket and something else in your bag and you bowed and thanked him on your way out. until you fell on your ass.

“watch it dude!”. when you looked up he was long gone and a bunch of people ran following. as you dusted of your legs you heard a stomp then another then another. you tried to scramble to your feet but his eyes trapped you. what looked like an old timely soldier. his eyes glowed blue.. it was like you were in a trance.

“thy must join me or per-“

“army’s are so old timey man just start a cult of something”. you saw red and blue legs infront of you.

“..I shall repeat myself onc-“

“are you alright miss?”. spider-man helped you up while simultaneously webbing the soldier to the mall wall.

“yeah.. shouldn’t you be fighting him though”

“feel like I should help a pretty lady escape first..”. you stood stunned when spider-man winked at you and rushed you to hide in his merch store..

“now how about you travel back in time and leave this poor mall alone..?”. the soldier broke the webs and charged at the webbed boy. spider-man dodged. webbing the soldiers face.

“I am the all powerful blamore kneel to me !”

“bla bla bla..”. spider-man pretends to yawn as the soldier pulled of the sword on his back and and tried to strike spider man again. put the man webbed it to wall.

“how far did you come from bro your really out of shape !”. after a couple hits taken from both men, you got tired of waiting. it had been twenty minutes and you could tell the solider was wearing down but spider-man was also.

“man let’s just call it a nig-“. you threw a spider man plushie at the soldier. both guys stated at you dumbfounded. taking this as you chance you keep on throwing the plushies. spider man getting the hint punched the solider in his face. after a few more hits the soldier fell unconscious. peering over the cash register spider man tilted his head at you hands gripping the counter.

“you know this is my job.. right..”

“didn’t look like it”. as you straightened up spider mans grip loosened as he chuckled. you didn’t know how to say it but you knew it wasn’t organic.

“are you using a voice changer?”. spider man stopped laughing and started to walk backwards as you left the counter and walked towards him.

“w-what no”. you crossed your arms as the spider tapped his neck twice and his voice got lower and then you heard a crack.

“did you just break your voice changer..?!”. giving up spider man nodded while staring at the floor. you bent your knees and tilted your head up at him.

“who knew seoul’s super hero was such a pus..”. as you smiled spider man raised his head and scratched his neck.

“I.. I peoples lives you know”

“mm”

“I mean the lady’s love me..!”. the spider gestured to the store. you picked up your jacket and your shopping bags and looked back at the strange guy.

“you have a really attractive voice spider boy”. you heard a pft as you walked out of the store

“and you have a nice style”. if there was ever a time you would be able to blush this would be it.

as the weeks went on you started to drift more to the spider man side of seoul. suddenly you found yourself searching up about the spiders past saves. a kid from a car that was falling of a bridge, a vaulter and much more. with this new interest came new merch.

“omg it’s like your his groupie now..”. jihan said as she showed one of the spider-man plushies to yunah who giggled.

“I mean it’s not like his an eyesore..”. with that jihan jumped on your bed.

“did you know hana was there when that guy tried to steal those old lady’s purses and she swore she saw the imprint of his abs on his suit..!”. you grabbed the plushie and put it back on your bed.

“hana also probably has connections to that one big drug dealer”. jihan wrinkled her nose and waved you off.

“well you should know y/n.. you were in the mall when that soldier guy stormed in right..?”

“blamore, he’s a soldier from like caesar’s time..”. jihan and yunah looked at eachother.

“I think your a little obsessed”

“no I just became.. a fan”. jihan looked you up and down.

“that spider man shirt says otherwise..”. you threw one of your other shirts on her and yunah giggled.

“are we going to get jihan that c or what ?”

“you said I could get an a !”. as you changed and jihan pouted yunah patted her head.

“yeah in a few years if you actually had a studying schedule..”. you giggled as you grabbed your purse and jihan stomped out of your dorm room.

approaching the library jihan gobbled down her corn dog.

“like what I’m going to slather the book pages with ketchup?”

“knowing how you eat you probably would”. jihan pushed you and before you noticed it you collide with something.

“oh shit I’m sorry”

“no problem.. just watching your step next time”. with that and a smile the tomboyish girl hurried into the library.

“nerd”

“that’s got to be you in a few weeks if you want to pass that math final !”. as yunah went on jihan zoned out and so did you. for some weird reason you felt compelled to the tomboyish girl. she looked really cute with her backwards cap, and her sweatshirt that was way to big for her.. how could she make her mess of a low bun look so good..?

“earth to y/n it’s been and hour and all you have done to help is stare blankly at the exit.. I think that means we should leave !”. jihan said as she turned to yunah who was nose deep in a book.

“sorry was just thinking about something”

“your web man”

“he’s not my anything”

“you zoned out and drew him in a sticky note.. he must mean something to you..”. your eyes widened at the post-it note jihan held up snatching it and throwing it at the trash can.

“if your not going to any help to help me study at least have aim”. you flicked the girls forehead as you actually started to help her. in the corner of your eye you swore you saw someone pick your trash up put never put it in the actual trash. to bad jihan face planting into her books distracted you.

one hour turned into two and two turned into four and you all parted your ways from the library. you ended up walking a small corner store for a small snack. as you walked in the owner waved you at and you smiled back. you grabbed your favorite snacks and a drink and as you were about to check out you felt something cold on your neck.

“get me the money from the cash register of I shoot her”. your breath shallowed as the owner hurriedly tried to find the key. a soldier and now a robber who smelt like.. tuna.. what’s next..?

suddenly the pressure of the gun was gone and your eyes darted to your side.

“I didn’t even get to ask for her number yet dude..!”. the robber struggled to get up while spider man turned to you.

“you ok..?”

“you should as the cash-“. turning to face the counter you saw the man had run out the door.

“looks like he’s spoken for”. you giggled and your swore the bug boys eyes widened.

“you gunna ask for my number yet..?”. the boy tilted his head and then you could feel the presence of his smile.

“yeah just gotta catch a bad guy no biggy”. you nodded as spider man webbed the robber to the stores door. webbing his mouth last.

“so that..”. you placed a note in his hand and as you walked out you turned around and signaled a call me with your fingers. so while spider boy geeked out you skipped all the way to your dorm snacks acquired. for the next two weeks you kept having run ins with the webbed boy.

“you didn’t answer my call”. you could hear the pout in the boys voice as you looked up from your subway seat. realizing your lips were suck tapped and so where your hands the boy jumped down and untied you.

“are you trying to say texting some spider boy is more important then my college degree..?”. thinking for amount spider man spoke.

“ya I thought we had something”. spider-man patted his chest as we walked away to un-duck tape the rest of the passengers.

“no you have a thing for stalking me..”

“not my fault your so crime prone”. you smiled as the boy stuck a note onto the subway hijackers head.

“you think that’s enough?”

“mmhm ‘someone’s been a very bad boy sorry cops sad face’”. you turned and frowned at the spider boy at the last part.

“don’t drown your ruin your beautiful face”. spider man nudged your face up as he heard multiple feet coming your way and winked and webbed the ceiling and left.

a few days later a museum was under attack by some rogue robots.

“you didn’t pay for the damages you caused for the subways ceiling..!”. as spider man pummeled one of the robots face in he laughed.

“you know your voice is even more pretty over the phone..!”

“your basically a villian too..”. as spider man beat the last robot her walked over and crouched down to your level.

“I thought girls liked bad guys..”

“considering your a boy and not a guy..”. spider smiled and untied your hands.

“get your degree or something dumb isn’t the new cute you know..”

“property damage isn’t the new hot..”. spider man winked at you as police ran in.

then again a week later at a outdoor frat party with some unwanted witch guests

“so you see I’ve been thinking..”

“shit you do that”. as spider man threw several webs at the witches he faked a laugh.

“could we maybe go on a date..”

“you don’t even have my actual number..”. he paused.

“what..?!”

“I gave you some sex lines number.. i don’t know who’s under that mask”. behind the bar you winked.

“your wicked..! we had deep conversations..!”. webs flew everywhere only a few catching the witches as they chanted spells that made him levitate.

“about what..?”

“how far cindy was from my location..!”. you giggled. he got your humor.

“so how about that date”. one witch was knocked out the other wouldn’t back down.

“where?”

“the roof of the candy exhibit on crest street..?”

“sure..spidey”. with a laugh spiderman webbed the witch to the floor and walked over to you.

“wear your best dress”

“wear your best onesie..”

“hah your funny”

“does it look ok?”. jihan and yunah titled their heads and then jihan ran over to you pulling the dress up a bit.

“perfect”

“I feel the air on my ass jihan”. the girl shrugged.

“just looked like you were in a night gown before sorry..”. you playfully hit her as yunah gave you your bag.

“remember I put a taser in your bag if anything goes wrong”

“what do you mean?”. jihan laughed.

“this man’s enemies are all over the city.. you might need it..”. you sighed as jihan reapplied your lipstick and you walked out the door. you decided to talk but you started to regret that decision as the high heels jihan picked out seemed to not be on your side today.

so as you half hazardly limped to the rooftop, a certain spider’boy’ just got home. spiderman slowly opened his window and crawled onto his ceiling. quietly crawling down the wall to jump infront of his door tapping the middle of his chest to tak of his suit.

“DUDE HAVE SOME SELF AWARENESS”. spiderman screamed like a girl because he?.. she was one. minji kim one day while studying like crazy fell asleep and got bit by a spider and she screamed the same way.

“HANNI WHAT THE FICK ARE YOU DOING HERE?”

“i don’t know you texted me to get here so as a good friend I did! what’s up?”. as minji changed into some streetwear hanni rolled her eyes.

“you stalked a girl and she willingly went on a date with you.. scratch that she probably was just scared…”. minji threw her back pack at the girl and she fell backwards onto the bunk bed.

“I swear she flirted with me though.. on like all occasions?”

“what happens when she finds out your a girl and not some.. tom holland look alike?”. minji paused and cursed.

“what if I just go in my suit? I could date a girl in my suit right?”. hanni sat up.

“mhm every girl loves making out with latex suits”. wiggling her eyebrows hanni made minji laugh and bit her lip.

“well maybe I’ll just wear the suit this time”. I’m lightning speed minji changed.

“you liked the tie”. minji flicked the tie she glued onto the suit as hanni looked between her and the door.

“FUCK AUNT TAEYEON! ”. taeyeon slapped the back of minji’s head.

“you got beat and bruised to ask out a girl who doesn’t even know your a girl??”. Minji scratched the back of her neck.

“no..”. taeyeon hit the back of her head again.

“your lucky I got a date.. if your not home by twelve your internship is done..”. aunt tae squinted her eyes at the teenage girl and then broke into a smile.

“so happy your finally dating.. oh wasn’t it yesterday I found out you even liked humans in gen-“. minji pushed aunt taeyeon as hanni giggled.

“can’t wait to hear about your date..!”. minji scowled as she climbed out her window but as soon as she was jumping from building to building no one but her knew the smile she held underneath her mask.

“is he calling me fat or something.. these stairs are killing me…

you stopped in your tracks as you reached the door leading to the rooftop. you heard promise by laufey playing. what guy listens to laufey..? opening the door you saw spiderman straighten up in his seat patting the pillow next to him.

“your late..”

“I just went up like twenty flights of stairs your lucky I even came..”. you stopped to see fairy lights lining the rooftop and peering below you a checkered blanket two pillows a basket and a candle. even further below a market of people with dazzling lights.

“pretty right..?”. you rolled your eyes to see spiderman already looking at you.

“I’m eighteen not stupid..”. Spider-Man held his head low as you giggled.

“oh thank god I was thinking you could be way older..”. you gasped and hit his knee.

“your the one head to toe covered in a suit!”. he laughed as he opened the basket. to reveal two sandwhiches, cupcakes and sugary soft drinks. spider-man set it all up and when he finnished looked at you.

“why are you smiling like that”. minji blushed a bit. after all her joking she finally looked at your outfit and you looked perfect.

“what I can’t smile?”

“no I mea-“

“just didn’t expect you to be such a gentleman..”. minji smiled and stood up urging you to join her. you stood up and tilted your head. minji got closer and you froze. she held your waist to make sure you didn’t fall and tilted your chin from her to the sky.

“woah..”

“yeah.. guess we haven’t ruined everything on earth..”. you smiled as you looked back at her.

“you really do so much.. what if I didn’t come?”. you stood on your tippy toes with your chin up, minji laughed.

“your lose..”. she got closer.

“your some random guy in a spider suit..”. you got closer.

“who fights crime”. she got closer.

“and looks hot doing it..”. as you got closer and closer you attempted to close your eyes as you pulled up his mask. thump thump thump.

“look dude I’m pret-“

slam

you turned around to see the warrior. blamore. he grabbed you by the waist and jumped two times the height of the building all the way to the infamous bridge spidey fought the reptile doctor at. it wasn’t easy for him though you keep tazing him the whole ride there.

“let me go !”

“not until your warrior is defeated !”. you rolled your eyes as he sat you on the roof of a car and used his gold rope to tie you up. you rolled your eyes as he use the rope around your mouth.

“you may delay the fight if you keep using that mouth of yours”. people ran and screamed as he seemed to power up glowing with every step he took looking in the sky for spider-man.

“you ruined my date”. blamore had no time to react as he was slammed onto the roof of a car.

“I study all day..”. a punch to the ribs.

“and all fucking night..”. a dislocation of his left leg.

“to finally ask her out..”. spiderman is punched to the floor.

“and you ruin it”. getting up a fist fight starts with a jab to blamores face and a sword slash to spider-man’s torso. instead of just watching you picked up your taser and while bending over backwards to laser through the rope you broke it taking of the rope on your mouth aswell. but instead of running a way for some reason you saw a baseball bat on the road and took it up.

somehow spiderman was now holding onto the bridge with all the strength he had left. the slashes with the sword never stopped and now he was bloody on the side of the bridge. but as blamore got closer you hit him over the head and helped spidey up.

just before you felt something on your throat.

“jump and she stays alive”. amour worn down hay knocked off and blamore still wanted the fight. you tried to use the taser but blamore just used it agonist your waist. you tried to not cry but that just made the tears fall down.

“spide-“

“it’s ok..”. backing away spider man fell. but just as soon as he fell you saw a web on your waist. the sword loosened and suddenly you were in his arms. blamore threw his sword with all his might but as she ran towards spidey he fell to his own demise.

“you ok?”. spiderman held your face in his hands.

“are you ok…”. you stared down at his waist and helped him to the side of a car.

“I’m so sorry.. guess he was just jealous..”. you pulled out tiny band aids and he laughed.

“just.. just text my bestfriend..”. with a sigh he told you his passcode and you texted the username ‘nando’ and caressed his cheek.

“shouldn’t I take of your ma-“

“no..”

“I’ll have a better chance fixing your face..!”. minji threw his head back.

“just..just close your eyes for a minute”. you did and after a minute you felt two hands take them away. infront of you sat a korean girl with a busted lip a cut on her eyebrow and some scratches here and there.. the finest one being under her right eye. immediately you put a spiderman band aid under her eye.

“no reaction..”

“you still look hot.. just more bloody then I expected”. minji laughed as you patched up her face with tissue and whatever was in your bag.

“you liked bruised college students..?”

“didn’t know thugs went to school”

“it’s not my fault he interrupted our date..”. you but your lip.

“should have just finished him off at the mall..”

“dirty.. I like it..”. you gasped as minji winked. as he held onto your waist and webbed his way throught the city. as you landed on the rooftop you stood stunned. minji patted your hair down and sat down.

“my names minji..”

“huh..”

“minji kim”. you turned around still in a haze.

“can we finnish our date now.. before the ants get to it..?”. minji tilted her head and you still shocked sat down next to her and took a bite of the sandwhich.

“you can’t cook for shit”. spiting out the sandwhich minji frowned.

“..I thought hybe had the best cooking classes..”. you laughed.

“I go there two how have I never seen you..?”

“I don’t know.. maybe because I’m always.. I don’t know.. fighting crime”. you nudged her shoulder as she ate her cupcake.

“oh fuck your right..”. you laughed as minji told you to turn around so she could change and you both could get some actual food. while at the same time as hanni approached the bridge she looked to to see a text ‘I’m still bloody just eating ramen with her! love uuuuu’

“sooo since I got a big fat c- can we go to that tanghulu stall! you can bring sunoo and and taesan”. you nodded as you text your new boy-friends. after last weeks events you thought making new friends was nothing. you even went to invite hanni too.

“sooo.. can you also invite the mystery girl..?”. you sighed and typed away as yunah poked your waist.

“so sad nothing happened with spidey though..”. jihan sighed.

“what if he had like a hot friend.. we would have it it of-“. jihan triped walking backwards and fell into the hands of a certain australian.

“oh shit you ok..?”. jihan looked up star gazed with a certain hue of pink dotting her cheeks.

“I’m jihan..”. hanni nodded and waved to you.

“oh hay I didn’t know you were still on campus we were heading to the tanghulu place!”. you laughed as minji opened her mouth.

“I told you we were going the right way”. just as you went to her side you felt something coming your way.

“oh shit sorry.. y-“. minji held the football in her hands and handed to the black haired boy.

“minji.. just got fast reflex’s ha ha..”. minji scratched the back of her head as sunoo nudged you about her. looking up you saw a big boom a few blocks away. you looked over to see minji already gone, hanni texting you.

“oh guys I forgot I got to study!”. jihan pulled on your sleeve as hanni volunteered to help you and as the rest left you looked up to see a certain spider slinging from building to building. jumping in the black van hanni looked at the cameras as you put in your ear piece. to hear some famous lines from spidey that the old shop keeper would probably put on a t-shirt as Minji approached the new villian.

“oh sorry dude I’m just swinging in”