sushiinmidnight

[sushiinmidnight]

~masterlist~

🍬: fluff, 🌧️: angst, 🌶️: smut, 🕯️: suggestive, 🍿: humor, 🤡: crack fic, ❓: request, 📱: smau

posted:

dating advice (the seungmin way) : felix doesn’t know how to ask changbin out. seungmin “helps” him. minho revels in the chaos. 🤡🍿📱

in progress:

chrysanthemum: y/n has been feeling lost and left out for a while, and it all comes to a head when their roommate jisung announces he’s moving in with his boyfriend. luckily, at least to one person, they’re not as invisible as they feel. (request by @sushiinmidnight) 🌧️🍬❓

requests are open !! see my intro post for guidelines.

[sushiinmidnight]

the man who has my heart completely 🤍🥺🤏🏼

[sushiinmidnight]

don’t you love the sound of silence

[sushiinmidnight]

[sushiinmidnight]

── .✦ fan service.

⟢ pairing: bang chan x female!reader

⟢ genre: fluff, idolverse, friends to lovers (kind of)

⟢ word count: 2.3k

⟢ summary: when you and chan were expected to do tons of fan service because of how much your fans loved your interactions, it was only fair to take a little advantage of it at times.

⟢ author’s note: helloo, this is a request from @cant-see-sam, who asked for “something where she gets protective over one of her younger members and chan is just like one the corner giggling and kicking his feet” hehe. i don’t know if this is close to what you had in mind, but i enjoyed writing it and i hope you enjoy reading it<3

“Loverboy’s staring again” your second to oldest member, Kyungmi, let you know with a smirk.

She didn’t need to mention who was staring at you for you to know it was Chan, and you loved the thought of it so much that you found yourself fighting the smile that threatened with curving up the corners of your mouth.

“Don’t call him that” you murmured.

“He is, though” she pushed it, looking over your shoulder to the idol she was shamelessly throwing under the bus. “All he can see from over there is your back, yet he’s been stealing glances every two minutes”.

“Kyungie…” you warned her, carefully looking around and making sure there were no cameras pointing at your table—thankfully, there weren’t any. “There are cameras everywhere,” you reminded her regardless. “Be careful with what you say”.

She shrugged, lying back on her chair as her eyes went to the Award’s stage in front, which was now filled with staff members rushing from one side to the other as they prepared it for the next group to perform.

“There’s nothing interesting happening over here right now, they won’t bother filming us just yet”.

“Still…” you leaned back on your chair as well. “There are fans in the venue”.

“And they love your interactions with him!”

Rolling your eyes at her cynical excitement, you remained quiet—her words being far too truthful for you to even try and deny them.

Openly being friends with an idol of the opposite sex was always a hit or miss—people either loved it and asked for more interactions, or they hated it and wanted you to stay as far away from each other as possible.

Luckily for you and Chan, his fans, as well as yours, had loved your friendship ever since he first mentioned you in one of his weekly lives back in the day.

He didn’t think much of it when he did, as he had mentioned a handful of other idols before. He simply read a comment asking if he got along with the girl group that had recently debuted under JYPE—that being your group—and his genuine answer ended up with him bringing you up; mentioning how out of all the members he was the closest to you, since you were the leader and, as a very inexperienced one who wanted to do her best, you used to turn to him for advice.

That simple mention of your name was all it took for the fans to go wild, asking for more and more interactions between the two of you as the time went on, to the point the company itself would make sure to put the two of you together for dance challenges, variety shows, special stages, and whatnot.

It was fan service at its finest—until it was not.

You were both human, at the end of the day. It didn’t take long for the two of you to discover how much you had in common, and the chemistry you shared was so strong that it was impossible to ignore. And so, what started with your company forcing you together for clout, ended up with the two of you becoming closer than they expected.

What started with casual corridor conversations soon turned into daily chats over texts and casual video calls, where you would talk about anything but work, and you would find yourself blushing over his dorky—yet smooth as hell—way with words.

Just like that, although most of your interactions in front of the cameras were planned by the company in order to make your fandoms happy and increase your groups’ popularity, sometimes even taking it one step further by telling you what to do or say, since both you and Chan were quite private and definitely needed a push or two to act in front of everyone the same way you did when the cameras were off, it came a point when you simply let loose.

Fan service or not, whether it seemed too much to the viewers or not, you started to act just as close as you were regardless of there being cameras pointing at you or not.

A dream for many, as not all idols got to publicly interact with each other without having either rumours or hate spreading all over.

Unfortunately for you, however, sometime along the way of your forced proximity, bickering turned into flirting and friendly smiles turned into heart eyes—each day making it harder for both of you to hide your growing feelings from the media.

That seemed to be the case for Chan that night, as he found his eyes being drawn to you every couple of minutes. But what else was he supposed to do when your table was right next to theirs, and his seat gave him the perfect view of you? Well, the perfect view of your back, but still of you nevertheless.

And, well, you weren’t doing any better either, for you found yourself turning around to look at him after Kyungmi stole another glance his way and smirked over how amusing the situation was to her. Your eyes locked with him immediately, feeling your heart flutter and laughing under your breath when he tried to play it cool by looking at the stage instead.

You had already caught him red handed, though, and you could only feel relief and shyness altogether when it was confirmed to you that Kyungmi wasn’t just making it up for the sake of teasing you.

“Maybe we should invite him to sit with us,” Kyungmi proposed. “The fans would love that”.

“Stop” you laughed this time, hiding your face in your hands for a moment before you watched everyone get off the stage, as the next performance was apparently about to start. “Should I call the girls to rush back here? I think Aespa is coming up and Yumi really wanted to watch them”.

Kyungmi shook her head no, gesturing towards their empty seats. “The dorks left their phones here. I’m sure Yumi’s already dragging Soomin over here, though”.

“We’re here! We’re here!” Yumi announced a little out of breath, reaching your side as if on cue.

“The line to the restroom was so long,” Soomin whined, not wasting another second to slump down on her seat next to you. “I thought we wouldn’t make it back in time”.

“But we did, right?” The youngest asked, going around the table to her seat. “Aespa hasn’t performed yet?”

“No, th—”

Your words were caught in your throat when, just as Yumi was about to sit down, a staff member pulled her chair and took it with him.

She managed to catch her balance in time not to fall to the ground—with some help from Soomin, who had instinctively held onto her upper arm rather forcefully—, but watching her lost eyes as they followed the man and the idea of her having fallen down because of his careless action, were enough for you to call him out before he could leave.

“Excuse me, she was using that” you tried to sound as polite as you could, considering how you had to raise your voice in order for him to hear you from across the table.

He turned to you with an annoyed semblance, and you could already tell this wouldn’t be a pleasant exchange. “She wasn’t sitting on it”.

“But she was about to,” you argued. “That seat was assigned to us, can you please give it back to her?”

“Another group is missing a chair and I have instructions to take one to them”.

“Well, can’t you look f—”

“Y/N…” Yumi tried to ease the situation, carefully speaking up. “I’m okay, I’ll just go look for another one”.

Her words were like fuel to the guy in front, who took that as his chance to get out of there and trotted away from you before you could utter another word.

With a defeated sigh as you watched him leave, and with a visibly upset Yumi who was just left standing there as she had nothing to sit down on now, you stood up.

“Yumi, come here” you motioned towards your seat, pulling the chair back for her to sit down on instead.

“I’m okay, really” she shyly tried to reassure you the moment she realised what you were doing—still, she went up to you like you told her. “I’ll go look for a spare one”.

“Come on now, you’re way too shy for that” you smiled softly, receiving a genuine smile from her in return—both your heads turning to the stage when the lights went down and the performance she was looking up to the most began. “Let’s just enjoy the show for now and I’ll go look for a chair afterwards”.

Yumi’s smile now parted her lips, brightly showing her teeth as she agreed with you, and quietly thanking you before she took the seat you were offering her.

Placing your hands on her shoulders and quickly getting too immersed in the show taking place before you, you were completely unaware of the guy that was looking at you from afar, and how he needed to bring a hand up to his mouth and fake out a cough, in order to play it cool and—poorly—hide the big smile that was beginning to part his lips.

“What happened?” Felix asked him with furrowed eyebrows, leaning closer to his leader since the music currently playing made it hard to hear.

“She’s so cute” Chan answered, allowing his smile to take over yet still hiding his mouth under his hand.

Felix smiled, shaking his head and looking over to you, as he did not need his leader to mention your name for him to know he was talking about you.

“Did we just watch the same scene play out before us a minute ago?” He teased him. “Yumi literally got her seat taken from her and you’re laughing”.

“I’m not laughing about that,” Chan corrected him. He was mad about the whole situation, of course. “I just think Y/N’s cute when she gets all protective”.

“More like you think she’s cute all the time”.

“Whatever,” Chan rolled his eyes, knowing there was no winning this fight, for he could not cover the sun with a finger. “Can you go give my chair to her? I’ll go look for a spare one for myself”.

“Look who’s being all protective now,” Felix chuckled. “I mean, I could go up to her and give her your chair, but I’m sure everyone would take it the wrong way”.

“People might take it the wrong way if I do, too…”

“Everyone thinks you’re just friends, they’ll love the fan service”.

“We are just friends, though…”

Felix laughed—the sound of it overpowering the one coming from the stage. “Okay, whatever you say. I’ll look for a spare seat, you go give your friend your chair” he proposed with a taunting smirk. “I don’t think she’ll take it as a platonic gesture, though”.

Chan shook his head in defeat, resting against the back of his chair and focusing on the performance taking place on the stage instead.

God, he wished you wouldn’t take it as a platonic gesture. It was hard to draw the line when your interactions were expected to be merely friendly.

As soon as the performance ended and the lights were back on, he channeled the courage he had been earning up for the last minute and stood up, grabbing his chair and bringing it with him all the way to your table.

He could feel your members’ eyes focus on him the moment he reached it, yet you were too focused gushing about the show with Yumi to even notice him standing right behind you.

So, with a small tap on your shoulder, he brought your attention to him.

“Um…” he hesitated when you turned around and your eyes met his, feeling his confidence abandon him as it hit him just how much more beautiful you looked up-close. “Here”.

Feeling your piercing stare on him as he placed the chair on the space Kyungmi had just made for it by sliding her chair to the side, he couldn’t ignore the goosebumps on his skin. And when you were still far from saying anything after he rested his hands on the back of your new seat, he couldn’t help the breathy, nervous laugh that escaped his lips.

“Don’t tell me you actually wanted to stand for the rest of the Awards and I brought a chair over here for nothing”.

“N-No, um… thank you” you breathed out, feeling your heart pounding against your chest. “I didn’t think there were any seats left”.

“There weren’t” he laughed.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Please don’t make me say it and just take the chair” he felt his cheeks burn.

Feeling your face heat up like only he could make it, you decided to take it easy on him and not push for an answer. Instead, you smiled at him and nodded before you took the seat he was offering—feeling your heart race all over again when you did and he gently pushed you closer to the table.

You looked up to him with a smile, covering your mouth just in case before you said, “You just went a little too overboard with the fan service there, don’t you think?”

He chuckled, shaking his head and looking down at you with a smile. “It stopped being fan service a long time ago now, didn’t it?”

Hearing your members giggle, and turning around to see his members shaking their heads as they looked at him with amused grins, Chan realised that maybe this particular interaction would be hard to defend as a platonic one.

The image of the heart eyes you were looking at him with right before he went back to his table, though, was enough for him not to worry about a thing and to be over the moon for the rest of the night.

Fan service came in many ways, after all. He just got lucky enough to be able to court the person he had feelings for while at it.

[sushiinmidnight]

daily gifs until hyune day — hyunjin as emojis

[sushiinmidnight]

daily gifs until hyune day — #loveSTAY: “i’m healing while looking at the lights over there. the lights that i see during concerts shine more. i’m thinking about how much prettier that would be. i think i’m coming to see the lights more than seeing the sea. it’s a night i’m passionately missing stay that are much warmer than the lights i’m seeing right now. those lights are not headed towards me, i want to show my efforts towards the lights that are heading towards us. i don't want to lose a single person who loves me. it’s something that i wrote a long time ago. during spring, i went to the mountain alone at dawn, the lights in seoul that i can see from afar.. i thought about it a lot, how nice it would be if it was just stay” ❣️

[sushiinmidnight]

daily gifs until hyune day — most replayed skz talker moments pt. 1

[sushiinmidnight]

feeding the children ↳ 3 / ∞

[sushiinmidnight]

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[sushiinmidnight]

i have a fic idea . something about IN (yang jeongin) meeting a girl at a party/ friends gathering etc and being acquaintance but also dancing beyond the lines and crossing them from time to time and him being possessive about reader eventhough they're not official?

[sushiinmidnight]

Minsung sketches (that I ended up colouring) from the DominATE tour in Hong Kong

Sketch version

[sushiinmidnight]

game buddy ll bangchan

pairing - bangchan x afab!reader

tw - deux geeks, du sarcasme, de l'humour (et un peu d'amour aussi)

Mes mains sont moites.

Ma bouche se fend d’une grimace et j'essuie rapidement mes paumes contre le tissu de ma jupe, mes dents grignotant nerveusement ma lèvre inférieure. Mon téléphone vibre dans la poche de ma veste et je baisse la tête, parcourant le message qui s'affiche sur mon écran.

C - Tu es déjà sur place ?

Mon ventre se serre en lisant ces quelques mots. Je lève le nez pour regarder tout autour de moi, saisie par une soudaine inquiétude. Mes yeux passent d'une personne à l'autre, sautent de silhouette en silhouette et les battements de mon cœur s'accélèrent. Mais tout m'est étranger, dans ces visages. Ils ne m'inspirent aucune familiarité. Pire, ils semblent me dévisager à leur tour.

Je m'arrête aussitôt, réprimant à peine un ricanement devant ma propre stupidité. Il était parfaitement normal que je ne reconnaisse personne, parce que je ne savais même pas où chercher.

Qui.

J'ajuste le foulard noué autour de mon cou pour la dixième fois, mes doigts jouant avec l'extrémité de celui-ci, l'enroulant autour de mon index.

Est-ce qu'il était vraiment possible de s'enticher d'une personne que l'on avait jamais rencontrée ?

Cette question n'avait pas quitté ma tête depuis des jours. Elle flottait là, insidieuse et j'avais l'impression qu'elle ne me laissait pas le moindre répit. Je n'avais pas cessé d'y penser. Jour et nuit. De soupeser le pour et le contre. De réfléchir à ce qui m'était passé par la tête quand j'avais proposé à Christopher de le retrouver à la convention.

Une folie passagère. Inexplicable. Ou peut-être une possession démoniaque. En tout cas, c'est ce dont j'essayais de me convaincre. Il était plus facile d'accepter ça que de me dire que j'avais proposé un rendez-vous à un parfait étranger. Même si « étranger » n'était pas le mot le plus adéquat en ce qui le concernait. Difficile de le décrire comme tel avec tout ce que je savais à son propos.

Pendant un temps, il s'était cantonné à StrayHero, son personnage dans le jeu en ligne où je l'avais rencontré. Un grand échalas en robe bleu nuit et au chapeau à large bord, avec une sacoche débordante de potions en tous genres. D'adversaires, nous nous étions mués en alliés et il avait accompagné nombreuses de mes nuits d'insomnie. Son pseudo était toujours teinté de vert lorsque je me connectais à des heures que le commun des mortels aurait trouvé scandaleuses et je savais que je retrouverais son sorcier dans les parages.

Sans même que je m'en rende compte, une routine avait fini par s'installer petit à petit.

Nos personnages se complétaient, les forces de l'un équilibrant les faiblesses de l'autre. Il en allait de même pour nos caractères, l'énergie vibrante et chaleureuse qui émanait de ses messages contrastant avec mon côté plus brut de décoffrage. Derrière ses airs enjôleurs se cachait un esprit vif et un humour décalé, qui avaient touché en plein dans le mille en l'espace de quelques messages. Et ce n'était pas commun. Chris avait su trouver la faille dans le mur que j'érigeais autour de moi et s'y était glissé sans un bruit, faisant exception. D'habitude, je ne me liais pas avec des étrangers, encore moins ceux que je rencontrais sur internet. Je craignais toujours de faire de mauvaises rencontres, parce que le monde extérieur était flippant et qu'on ne savait jamais qui se trouvait derrière un écran. Alors j'avais toujours maintenu une distance avec le reste de mes pairs, créant volontairement le mystère autour de ma personne. Je ne voulais pas les connaître et je désirais encore moins qu'ils cherchent à me découvrir.

Mais sans pouvoir l'expliquer, je n'avais ressenti aucune gêne avec lui. Je n'avais pas la moindre idée d'à quoi il ressemblait, la manière dont il occupait ses journées quand il n'était pas en train de se battre à mes côtés. Pourtant je n'éprouvais pas la moindre crainte de converser avec lui. Pire, il lui avait suffi de quelques blagues et d'un peu d'insistance – que j'avais trouvé étrangement attachante – pour m'apprivoiser. Il ne s'était pas arrêté à mon sale caractère et au sarcasme dont j'avais pu faire preuve. Il avait persévéré et je m'étais sentie touchée, d'une certaine façon, par sa persistance à vouloir faire connaissance en dépit de l'image que je devais renvoyer. J'avais fini par capituler, par dessiner une ouverture dans le mur pour lui permettre d'entrer sans avoir à se faufiler comme un voleur.

Et je m'étais retrouvée à l'attendre. À compter les heures jusqu'à nos retrouvailles, à soupirer de dépit lorsqu'il ne montrait pas signe de vie. À m'inquiéter lorsque je n'avais pas de ses nouvelles. Parce que je m'étais rendue compte que j'appréciais sa présence. Même si elle se résumait à un pseudo énigmatique et un personnage imaginaire.

Du moins, jusqu'à plusieurs semaines en arrière.

Parce qu'il était allé jusqu'à m'appeler pour jouer en ligne, franchissant une nouvelle étape de cette étrange relation qui nous reliait l'un à l'autre. Lorsque j'avais vu la fenêtre apparaître dans le logiciel, j'avais failli faire une attaque. Alors que ça faisait sens quand j'y repensais, parce que cela faisait déjà plusieurs mois que je passais le plus clair de mon temps à discuter avec lui pendant nos longues sessions de jeu.

Pourtant, imaginer l'entendre m'avait donné le sentiment de rendre ça réel. Trop réel.

Jusqu'à ce moment-là, il n'avait été que StrayHero. Un individu désincarné, lointain.

Fictif.

Et sur l'instant, je n’avais pas su si j'étais prête à faire le pas. À découvrir l'être humain qui se trouvait derrière l'écran. À affronter mes doutes et mon incertitude. L'appel s'était coupé, faute de réponse de ma part et je m'étais figée en voyant le message qui s'était aussitôt affiché dans notre conversation.

C – Désolé. Je suis allé trop loin.

Ma poitrine s'était resserrée devant son ton si solennel et ma main s'était mue d'elle-même, appuyant sur le petit bouton vert. Puis j'avais cessé de réfléchir, au risque de regretter mon choix.

Parce qu'au fond de moi, je sentais que Christopher valait la peine qu'on le découvre.

Les premiers échanges avaient été hésitants, maladroits. De ces moments où l'on ne sait pas vraiment quoi dire, parce que c'est nouveau, inhabituel. Où l'on ne sait pas comment se positionner, quels sujets aborder et où ça ne semble pas naturel du tout. Puis j'avais entendu son ventre gargouiller, lui tirant un rire gêné. Et la tension était telle que j'avais explosé de rire, le sien suivant dans la foulée. « J'ai peut-être oublié de me nourrir, à un moment donné. » m'avait-il confié et un sourire s'était dessiné sur mon visage.

L'abcès avait été aussitôt crevé et les choses s'étaient faites en toute simplicité.

Je n'avais pas besoin de prétendre, avec lui. Et à cette période, je n'avais même pas considéré l'idée de le rencontrer. Alors j'étais restée moi-même, avec mes remarques cinglantes et mes éclats de rage lorsque les choses ne se passaient pas comme prévu, avec mes claquements de langue agacés et mes bâillements à gorge déployée lorsque mes yeux se faisaient lourds. Mais Chris n'avait jamais fait le moindre commentaire à ce propos.

Je crois que ça l'amusait, au fond. Et c'était ça que j'appréciais, chez lui. Il ne jugeait pas. Il m'acceptait avec mes petits défauts, là où mon propre entourage n'était pas en mesure de s'y résigner.

Les jours s'étaient succédés et Chris s'était fait une place dans mon quotidien, mon sourire s'étirant à la vue d'un message sur mon téléphone pour me souhaiter une bonne journée ou en découvrant que j'avais reçu un cadeau de la part de son personnage en ouvrant le logiciel du jeu. Il était tout en petites attentions, discrètes mais significatives. Et ça prouvait qu'il s'intéressait aux autres, qu'il en prenait soin à sa manière. J'avais été surprise de sa capacité à retenir des choses que j'avais pu confier, que je ne me souvenais même pas avoir évoquées pour certaines et je n'avais pas pu empêcher mon cœur de battre plus vite à cette constatation.

Est-ce qu'il était vraiment possible de s'enticher d'une personne que l'on avait jamais rencontrée ?

Cette question avait pris vie dans un coin de ma tête, étendant ses racines toujours un peu plus loin à chaque jour qui passait. Parce que je n'étais pas stupide et que je savais que l'affection que je lui portais dépassait certaines limites sur lesquelles je n'osais pas poser de mots. Je ne pouvais pas dire que je ne le connaissais pas parce qu'il m'avait appris des choses sur lui, au fil de nos échanges mais est-ce que c'était vraiment suffisant ?

Mais les faits étaient là : je ne savais pas réellement qui se trouvait en face de moi. Et je ne pouvais pas réprimer cette peur insidieuse, tapie dans un coin de ma tête. D'être déçue. D'avoir été manipulée depuis le début. De me rendre compte que rien n'était vrai, de voir l'illusion se briser au moment où le rideau se lèvera. Même s'il n'avait jamais rien fait qui puisse renforcer cette impression, je continuais de douter. Et je savais que ça n'allait jamais s'arrêter. En tout cas, pas tant que je ne l'avais pas vu de mes propres yeux.

En plus, il n'y avait aucun obstacle à ça parce qu'il habitait dans la même ville que moi.

J'avais senti mon cœur remonter dans ma gorge quand il m'avait glissé l'information au détour d'un appel, mon corps se figeant tout entier lorsque mon cerveau avait enfin intégré l'information.

Il vivait à Sydney. À Sydney.

Dire que je l'avais peut-être déjà croisé dans le savoir.

Cette pensée avait fait tressaillir mon cœur et mes joues s'étaient mises à brûler sans que je ne puisse m'en empêcher. Il était si près. Moi qui m’étais attendue à ce qu’il habite à l’autre bout du monde, je me retrouvais plus proche que je ne l’avais jamais été jusqu’à présent.

Depuis, je m’étais mise à faire attention aux détails, à m’intéresser à mon environnement, avec l’espoir fou de reconnaître sa voix au détour d’une rue. Je tendais l’oreille sur mon chemin, pareil à un chien de chasse à l’affût et il n’avait pas fallu longtemps pour que mes proches m’adressent des regards dubitatifs. 

Je devais certainement passer pour une folle, mais ce n’était pas la première fois.

Pourtant le destin n’avait pas semblé être de mon côté. Alors je m’étais résignée à lui forcer la main, pour avoir le fin mot de l’histoire concernant Chris. J’avais eu peur de ne plus pouvoir faire machine arrière, si je continuais dans cette direction sans avoir le cœur net et j’étais trop effrayée de souffrir pour vouloir m’impliquer davantage.

La Play Con, convention de jeux vidéo qui se déroulait quelques jours plus tard s’était révélée comme l’occasion parfaite pour éclaircir le mystère.

S – Ouais. Si tu vois une fille en robe violette avec l’air de s’ennuyer à mourir dans un coin, c’est probablement moi.

Une chaleur m’envahit en tapant le message. Mes dents triturent l’intérieur de ma joue et je balance mon poids d’un pied sur l’autre, envahie par un sentiment désagréable. Mais je n’arrivais pas à définir si c’était de la peur, du malaise ou de l’inquiétude. Je me sentais tiraillée entre l’envie d’y croire, l’espoir de rencontrer réellement la personne avec laquelle j’avais partagé tant de choses pendant ces derniers mois, mais je n’arrivais pas à réprimer la crainte que tout ça n'ait été qu’un rêve, une illusion de plus dans ce monde imparfait. 

Il n’était plus qu’une question de minutes, désormais. De secondes, même. Chris allait bientôt apparaître et mon coeur me donnait le sentiment de pouvoir éclater à n’importe quel moment. Mon estomac était noué, ma gorge serrée et mon foulard semblait se rétracter un peu plus autour de mon cou. Mon téléphone vibre dans ma main, me tirant de ma torpeur et je baisse les yeux. 

C – À titre informatif, sache que tu n’es pas la seule fille en robe violette avec un air profondément ennuyé. Je pense que j’ai été pris pour un dingue.

Un éclat de rire m’échappe et je sens mon corps se détendre aussitôt. Il n’y avait que lui pour se mettre dans de telles situations et j’avais arrêté de compter les fois où il m’avait confié s’être retrouvé dans une situation gênante. 

C – Mais mon amour-propre devrait s’en remettre. Enfin, je crois. J’aurais pu avoir l’air d’un dingue avec une moumoute blonde sur la tête alors je relativise.  

Je glousse à nouveau, les lèvres fendues par un franc sourire. Chris savait toujours quoi dire pour détendre l’atmosphère et c’était comme s’il avait deviné que c’était ce dont j’avais le plus besoin à ce moment précis.

S – Mais tu n’es plus à une humiliation près de toute façon, non ?

— En effet. Si le ridicule tuait, j’aurais sûrement rendu l’âme depuis bien longtemps.

Je me fige à la voix familière qui s’élève dans mon dos et mon souffle s’étrangle dans ma gorge. Mon corps pivote par réflexe et le temps semble ralentir pendant ces quelques secondes. Mon cœur pulse à vive allure, une violente chaleur crépite dans ma nuque et je me sens étourdie par un afflux d’adrénaline.   

L’instant d’après, mon regard accroche la silhouette de Christopher qui se dresse devant moi et toute pensée déserte momentanément le creux de ma tête. 

Il était là. Et plus uniquement réduit à un personnage fictif, une voix déformée dans les écouteurs de mon casque ou le combiné de mon téléphone.

Il était réel.

Et tellement différent de ce que j’avais pu imaginer. 

Je ne m’attendais pas à ça. À ces yeux bruns remplis de chaleur et à cette bouche aux lèvres pleines. Aux courtes mèches brunes qui venaient chatouiller les tempes d’un visage aux lignes douces. Mes yeux effleurent ses traits, mémorisant la courbe de sa mâchoire avant de descendre plus bas. Il ne me dépassait que d’une dizaine de centimètres à peine, mais le tissu de sa tunique était tendu sur ses larges épaules et je déglutis, les pommettes soudainement brûlantes. 

Est-ce que c’était mal de dire que j’avais imaginé quelqu’un de plus “banal” ?

En l’absence de visuel pour le décrire, mon cerveau avait compensé comme il avait pu et même si Chris était resté relativement flou dans mon esprit, l’image que je m’en étais faite était bien loin de l’homme qui me faisait face.

Putain.

— Salut Stay, souffle-t-il après un moment de silence, sur un ton hésitant. 

L’utilisation de mon surnom était bien la preuve irréfutable que c'était Chris qui se trouvait sous mes yeux, balayant les doutes qui subsistaient encore  dans un coin de la tête. Je détestais mon prénom et de ce fait, je ne répondais qu’à cette appellation. Il avait beau dire que Stacey était tout à fait charmant, ça ne m’empêchait pas de le maudire sur douze générations lorsqu’il avait l’audace de l’utiliser contre moi.  

Il avait glissé ses mains dans les poches de son pantalon en toile et se balançait lui aussi sur ses jambes. C’est à ce moment-là que je comprends qu’il est nerveux lui aussi, que je ne suis pas la seule à être troublée par la situation. 

Et dans un sens, c’était rassurant. Il avait toujours semblé sûr de lui lors de nos échanges. Plein d’assurance, d’une confiance que rien ne paraissait pouvoir ébranler.

— Je…Tu es…Je m’attendais à ce que tu sois un peu plus…Comment dire…Maigrichon ? je balbutie, en cherchant mes mots pour ne pas le froisser. 

Alors que mes pensées se résumaient plus à “je ne m’attendais pas à ce que tu ressembles à une gravure de mode”. Mais plutôt mourir brûlée vive que de le lui dire. 

Chris m’observe un instant avant de rejeter la tête en arrière, un éclat de rire dépassant la barrière de ses lèvres. Ses pommettes s’étaient néanmoins teintées d’une légère couleur rose et je tressaille à cette vue, mon cœur battant un peu vite dans ma poitrine. Puis il reporte son attention sur moi, son visage traversé par une grimace. 

— Merci ? me répond-il, incertain. 

Il se frotte l’arrière de la nuque, détournant le regard. 

— J’imagine que c’est ce qui se rapproche le plus d’un compliment, venant de toi.

— Oui ? Non ? Peut-être ? je réponds d’une voix de souris avant de poursuivre :  Enfin, disons que je m’étais faite à l’idée de rencontrer le parfait cliché du geek. Pas…ça.

Je le désigne d’un vif geste de la main pour accompagner mes paroles. Il fronce les sourcils, baissant les yeux sur lui sans comprendre avant de relever la tête dans ma direction.

— Ça quoi ?

Est-ce qu’il le faisait exprès ?

— Ce…ça ! Tu vois très bien ce que je veux dire ! je m’exclame, en tapant rageusement du pied sur le sol.

— Pas vraiment…Tu peux développer ?  

Il le faisait clairement exprès.

Son visage s’était paré d’un rictus amusé et ses yeux brillaient d’une lueur de malice qui lui donnait un air plus juvénile. Totalement en décalage avec le reste de son corps, à commencer par ses bras dénudés par la coupe de sa tunique, laissant entrevoir une peau légèrement dorée et des muscles définis.

Il est possible que j’eusse dégluti à certain moment, pendant ma contempla- mon observation minutieuse de sa personne. 

— Continue de jouer à l'imbécile et je te fais manger ton chapeau, je persifle pour mettre fin à la conversation.

Les bras croisés dans mon giron et un regard mauvais à l’appui, je le défiais de poursuivre. 

Même si mon niveau d’intimidation frôlait le ras du sol. 

Il fait mine d’être effrayé, s’agrippant aux bords veloutés de son couvre-chef comme si sa vie en dépendait et je lève les yeux au ciel. Nos regards se croisent ensuite et un échange silencieux se produit, dans un sérieux des plus mortels. Jusqu’à ce que l’un d’entre nous ne pouffe de rire, entraînant l’autre à sa suite. Mes épaules se détendent aussitôt et je sens la pression se relâcher dans ma poitrine, laissant place à une légèreté nouvelle. 

“Mayo Cosplay accompagnée du groupe Sriracha seront en représentation sur la Scène Deux dans trente minutes. Sur la Scène Une, vous pourrez retrouver le tournoi Valorant animé par….”

— Est-ce que j’ai bien entendu Mayo Cosplay ? s’écrie le brun, les deux mains posées sur ses joues.

— Elle va défiler avec Sriracha !? je poursuis, les yeux écarquillés.

Nous arborons la même expression ahurie et je laisse échapper un nouvel éclat de rire.

— On devrait peut-être se dépêcher si on ne veut pas rater ça, tu ne crois pas ? je l’interroge avec un sourire timide, en pointant la direction de la scène d’un geste du pouce.

C’est seulement à cet instant que je me rappelle l’existence des milliers de visiteurs qui se trouvaient tout autour de nous, de leur fourmillement ininterrompu et du brouhaha de paroles qui mêlait à la musique diffusée par les haut-parleurs accrochés au-dessus de nos têtes.

Pendant un moment, j’avais oublié que nous n’étions pas seuls. 

Il n’y avait eu que Chris et moi et ce lien étrange qui nous liait l’un l’autre. Cette familiarité que j’éprouvais à son propos, comme un vieil ami avec lequel j’aurais partagé de nombreux souvenirs et cette conscience de ne jamais l’avoir rencontré avant ce jour. La simplicité de nos échanges, la sensation d’être en sécurité auprès de lui et de ne pas avoir besoin de fuir, de pouvoir affronter le monde extérieur s’il restait à mes côtés. 

— Tu as parfaitement raison. Il n’y a qu’un seul endroit qui soit idéal pour voir Mako-chan et c’est le devant de la fosse. Ni plus ni moins. 

Je ris à nouveau, avant de laisser échapper un glapissement quand ses doigts se glissent autour de ma main pour m’entraîner à travers la foule. 

Pourtant, je ne me suis jamais sentie aussi bien. Aussi exaltée.   

Peut-être que ça pouvait fonctionner. Peut-être que je pouvais ouvrir mon coeur à l’inconnu, si celui-ci me regardait avec autant de tendresse.

[sushiinmidnight]

💗 gummybearsracha 💗

[sushiinmidnight]

killing me

💗 gummybearsracha 💗

[sushiinmidnight]

HAN JISUNG for DAZED KOREA

[sushiinmidnight]

Trophy Husband - Chapter 5

Hyunjin x Reader (fem.) Genre: Arranged Marriage au!, Marriage of Convenience-ish, Romance, Angst, Frenemies-to-Lovers, NSFW (mdni) Warnings: mentions of cursing, drinking, crude language, somewhat proofread WC: 6.0k A/N: Last chapter of the year! I hope the slight insight into y/n melts away any frustrations the previous chapter left. Our bickering-couple will see you again in 2025! Feedback, Reblogs, Likes are greatly appreciated! Happy reading! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: Two individuals with polar opposite lifestyles are thrown into an arranged marriage for the benefit of both their families, or so they claim. One is a frivolous playboy, living off familial wealth, while the other is an overly controlling workaholic. Navigating their marriage with a business-like approach, their relationship is marked by a whirlwind of bickering, banter, and societal pressures. Amid misunderstandings, they uncover layers of unexpected qualities, eventually discovering a sweet love neither saw coming.

Missed a chapter? - Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4

CHAPTER 5 ───────────────────

As a child, Y/N Yeom had always been compared to a bird, lost in her own world. 

Soaring freely, high above, doing as she pleased as her parents’ only child. One of the perks of having no competition with a sibling. 

She chased her imagination, colorful dreams unfurling in her mind.

It was something her parents bragged about. How independent she was. How ambitious she was. How proud she would make them.

It was something her parents would come to regret as she entered her teenage years. The extracurricular activities they had piled onto her as a child, aimed at making her well-rounded and talented in many fields, from dancing to piano to art, would soon return to haunt them. 

Especially when the Yeom heiress declared she wanted to be an artist.

Her mother had laughed at it. 

A sound that still echoed in Y/N’s mind. It had been a laugh muffled by her fingers, her face a alight with amusement as she stared back at her young daughter, clearly finding the idea more humorous than anything else.

“Don’t say such silly things Y/N”

Words that still rang in her memories.

Her carefree world began to shatter.

Then came the hiding. 

The pretense of attending tutoring classes designed to prepare her to follow in her father’s footsteps, while she secretly slipped into the art program she had forged her mother’s signature to join, started swiftly.

For the most part, she had gotten away with it. That was, until her art teacher called her parents after she won a competition. One whose name she couldn’t even remember anymore.

Her father was furious when he found out. Perhaps she would have been too if she was in his place. Although, she believed she wouldn’t have allowed her child to hide their passions in the first place.

She wouldn’t have laughed at their dreams.

Y/N started growing bitter. Her carefree world shattered even more.

She had always been sort of an outcast amongst the other children in her social circle, although self-appointed.

They seemed to lack their own dreams, their own passions. Happily following the plans their parents had drawn out for them, while she struggled to even hang up her art pieces with pride. 

The first time Y/N had properly seen Hwang Hyunjin was back in school. The academy they attended was full of children of the elite, cliques of those who loved to flaunt their good looks and their parents’ wealth. One of which the second Hwang son was also in, though she never truly cared enough to acquaint with him, let alone keep his name memorized.

If she tried to recall when his name had become a familiar one in her memories, she would probably say that swim championship he had won for their school. A first time win after six years of their academy losing. Only for Hwang Hyunjin to hold the winner title for his entire academic career.

She had always been acutely aware of his existence, hearing his name here and there throughout school, catching glimpses of the supposedly handsome Hwang Hyunjin in the halls, at events her parents dragged her to. Types of events where she would hole away at some random empty room after initial greetings. 

The first time Y/N had taken a proper look at him was in one of these events, in her search for an empty room she would spend the evening in before it was time to leave. She had stumbled upon Hyunjin, the handsome second son of the Hwangs.

Handsome he was, his gaze snapped to hers the moment she entered. Their eyes locked for the first time as she stood frozen in the doorway, catching him in a …compromising position. 

His lips had been locked with the school president’s. But at the sound of the door, the two broke apart almost instantly. Hyunjin wiped his mouth casually, while the school president, usually prim and proper, sputtered, her eyes darting between his and Y/N’s equally stunned expressions.

   “Ah—Sorry...” Y/N had muttered awkwardly, closing the door behind her as she blinked at the odd combination she had walked in on.

The school president cornered her in halls the following day, pleading eyes already giving way to her request. To not tell anyone she was with Hwang Hyunjin, the apparent “black sheep” of his family, a detail Y/N hadn’t known until that moment, though it wasn’t something she even cared for.

She had her own problems to deal with, and who the school president was or wasn’t making out with, didn’t even register on her radar. She barely even remembered the event, let alone have time to run around and spread gossip.

Still, Y/N promised. And then, just a few weeks later, she found herself witnessing another scene, some other cheerleader pulling the “black sheep” of the Hwang family behind the bleachers.

A sight that would become more familiar than his existence itself.

────────────────────────

The shower water running down her skin should have felt relieving. Should have helped her loosen up, the hot scorching water that always managed to help her relax after a long strenuous day, tingling yet soothing. But as Y/N stood beneath the shower, the one place she usually found peace, her mind refused to settle. Instead, she found herself staring at the water swirling down the drain, her thoughts drifting back to what had happened between her and Hyunjin.

Back to the memory of her trophy husband, kneeling before her, his piercing gaze locked onto hers with a mixture of astonishment and something more. Something darker, more desirous.

And suddenly she was heavily aware of Hyunjin just outside, in the bedroom where he had trudged into after feeling lightheaded.

It seemed he really had exerted too much energy, the alcohol in his system, the confinement between her legs, the exhaustion afterwards. All overtaking him almost instantly. Y/N had even helped him into the bed. 

He had muttered things under his breath, a chuckle escaping through his mumbles as he had tried to keep his eyes open. Yet, ultimately he had lost that battle and soon his breathing had grown shallow.

Y/N had stared down at his passed out form, gnawing at her bottom lip as her eyes trailed over him. Ultimately retreating in for a shower to clear her head.

Yet the shower didn’t seem to clear anything at all.

Instead she felt even more conflicted. 

The scraps of Hwang Hyunjin she could find in her memories resurfaced as she tried to recall as best as she could. Yet every single one of them seemed to be of him with a pretty girl on his arm.

But now here he was, the pretty man on her arm.

The bathroom door had opened with a soft click, Y/N peeked out to glance back into the bedroom, her trophy husband’s body still tucked under the duvet as she had left him. The bedroom was lit dimly, the bedside lamp casting a soft glow, allowing her to look down at Hyunjin’s serene expression as she approached his passed out form.

Y/N instantly thought back to earlier in the evening. As if her mind hadn’t been replaying every moment of it in a loop ever since. The feeling of his touches, his gaze, his tongue, still burning against her skin, in her memories. 

Perhaps that was how his playboy nature worked.

His bold actions, his whiskey-laced breath. 

The way his tongue darted out to lick his lips, the sultry tone in his voice.

Which Hyunjin had it been this evening?

The playboy Hyunjin who knew the arts of pleasure?

Or…

She pictured the flush on his cheeks. The heat that radiated from his skin against her. 

The desperation in his wide gaze, his slightly shaky fingers tugging at her dress as he asked for permission.

Perhaps it was her husband Hyunjin.

The gallery director clutched at the bathrobe tightly, slowly crouching down to get a closer look at his face.

The ever so pretty Hwang Hyunjin. Her playboy husband, so serene, so angelic even in his sleep.

Her eyes traced his features, resting on his lips. The ones that had her chasing that orgasmic feeling that she hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. 

His lips, that would curve into those smug smiles whenever he taunted her, irking her slightly, amusing her mostly. 

His lips, so kissable.

Y/N leaned in, her mouth pressing against his. A soft kiss, a simple peck maybe.

His breath felt hot against hers as he slept, a low sleepy moan escaping his mouth as she pulled away, peering back down to take in his sleeping expression. He shifted slightly, brows narrowing in a frown before relaxing. A sight that made her stifle a smile, fingers pushing away the stray hairs that fell over his face. 

The room quieted again after Hyunjin settled once more, his crouching wife observed this side of him.

She had always been the first to fall asleep. Always exhausted, easily slipping into her dreams once her head hit the pillow. Sometimes she would watch Hyunjin from her tucked in spot. The dark-haired man, who seemed to always be doing this or that on the other end of the bedroom. 

Sometimes reading on the recliner, sometimes standing out on the balcony. Oftentimes he would shuffle under the sheets once her eyes fluttered close. Her lids, heavy, yet aware of his presence beside her.

Oftentimes she wondered what he would do if she asked him to embrace her.

Engulf her in his warmth to soothe her of her day’s exhaustion, unaware if his arms would even have that effect.

Though, after tonight, maybe her assumptions weren’t too far off.

She often wondered what it would be like to make this man hers.

To allow him into her heart. The shielded, guarded organ that seemed to harden against love.

Or would she simply become his plaything? The one he would turn to whenever he needed to let off steam.

Hyunjin inhaled deeply in the midst of his shallow breaths, a low noise that was just loud enough to draw her attention back to just the two of them in this room. Y/N finally pushed herself back on her feet, glancing down at him once more.

Did she trust him enough? 

He hadn’t done anything that would have broken her trust, went against whatever clauses they’d laid out, whatever contracts they’d signed. Yet, there was that nagging voice in the back of her head.

The one that whispered to her.

That he was putting on some act, behaving himself only for a moment before he craved attention. Before he got bored of sitting still.

He’d done it before. Or atleast, from what she had read and heard in the past.

After some new scandal of his, he would disappear. Lie low for a couple of months before he was once again dancing in nightclubs. Even prior to their marriage, he had been engulfed in some incident. Something about a bar fight. The news that she read about after her father had thrown the marriage arrangement at her, left her tasting bitter.

Her husband turned in his sleep, sinking deeper into the mattress, his face turned away from hers.

Y/N reached out. Perhaps to push back some more stray strands of his hair, perhaps to lean down and press another kiss to his lips. But she faltered, the quiet hum on her cell phone vibrating against the dresser echoed in the bedroom, the sound had her already striding over, knowing well that these late night calls from her secretary were always urgent.

Knowing well that she had always been the kind to prioritize her work. Her ambitions.

That she would never be a perfect lover, let alone be a perfect wife.

The gallery director fidgeted with her wedding ring, inhaling deeply as her eyes glanced over the glass doors of the meeting room. 

Her secretary had called her late last night, finally arranging a meeting with a potential sponsor for Y Gallery’s upcoming project. 

Y/N had rushed out frantically, glancing back at her husband once, before she had to start preparing for this meeting in the early hours of the morning. But now that she was done, and had nothing to do besides wait, her mind trailed back to Hyunjin.

Back to her trophy husband who seemed to be ever so peaceful in his slumber. She wondered if he would remember what he had done last night?

A part of her cursed herself for not ensuring he was sober enough before agreeing to his ministrations. Although he didn’t seem it, the way he had almost collapsed afterwards had her worried slightly.

Her eyes shot to her cellphone, the discarded device that had a cascade of messages and notifications from people she didn’t care enough about to respond right away.

But no message from Hyunjin.

It made sense. It was still early in the morning, and over the months of being married to him, the gallery director had learned that her husband loved to sleep in. Especially on days after he had a few drinks.

She wondered if she should message him. Tell him to take it easy in case he wakes up with an aching head. Tell him to call her so she could ensure he was alright.

Hear his voice.

His groggy sleep-laced voice, memories of it running through her mind. From all the times he had muttered things as he made her coffee on those days he claimed she had roused him awake.

Y/N blinked at his contact. At the words she had typed out, staring at the letters almost as if they were foreign.

They felt foreign.

Types of words she hadn’t sent in what felt like forever.

Words of concern. Of worry.

Messages a wife would send her husband.

The knock on the glass door tore the gallery director out of her trance, her instant social smile spreading over her face as she stood. Arm extending for a shake.

   “Thank you so much for taking the time to meet me today Madam Kim.” Her voice dripped with confidence.

The gallery director’s husband rustled under the sheets, his brows furrowing in a frown, eyes still shut tight but awake nonetheless.

The silence in the room stretched and for a moment he simply just laid there.

But then as the gears in his brain began to work, the memories of the night prior surged down on him, replaying through his mind in a loop.

Hyunjin’s eyes shot open, slowly he propped himself up to glance around the empty room. His body slightly ached for some reason, and his mind was foggy as he scanned his surroundings. 

There was no sign of Y/N. 

No quiet rustle of sheets, no trace of her presence. No loud clatter of her attempting to be quiet but failing miserably.

The space felt oddly hollow, and an uncomfortable silence settled in as he fully sat up, trying to make sense of everything. Of the time, of the day. 

His fingers traced his lips, tugging at his bottom lip as he tried to distinguish whether whatever he was thinking about right now, whatever he had done, had in fact happened or had it all been a dream.

Hyunjin made his way out of bed, figure crossing the rooms to peer out in hopes to find a glimpse of her, or a clue that would soothe the anxiety that had begun to bubble within him.

The living room was silent, a familiar stillness that settled in at this hour. Times when Hyunjin would head to the gym and the entire house was empty. Yet, the silence felt eerie to the man who had just awoken, his hair rustled messily as he glanced around the room. 

A loud sigh had escaped his lips. The anxious feelings started to subside as he was almost to that conclusion that it had been all a dream.

Almost.

Hyunjin’s eyes flickered to the counter. His brows relax at the sight of the mug of forgotten tea.

The drink that had long gone cold, still in the spot last left. Right across the front island, where he had tasted his wife. 

Not a dream.

Hyunjin gulped, the dry feeling in his throat refusing to subside. And all his anxieties began crashing down.

The second son of the Hwang family had had his fair share of one-night-stands. Sometimes waking up alone, sometimes leaving alone. It had never bothered him enough for his mind to linger on it any longer than he needed to. Forgetting it all almost with the new day.

And although whatever happened between the business-couple wasn’t even close to things Hyunjin had experienced in his one-night-stands, it still pricked at his heart in a way he didn’t think it would.

He knew the kind of person his wife was. Knew her priorities, knew that she would be working at this time, especially on a work day. But he didn’t expect to wake up alone.

Didn’t expect these anxious thoughts to course through him when he was welcomed by silence. 

Perhaps that’s what love was. 

These foreign emotions that surged through him right now had never been present after his past…overnight escapades. The lingering feelings that never seeped into his thoughts the next morning were heavily weighing down on him now.

He must be overthinking it all, he had to be.

Like a love-sick fool who felt abandoned.

Hyunjin had never thought himself to be the clingy type. In fact, he despised the women who often clung to him, professing their adoration for him. Attraction, love, things that made his brows twitch in irritation.

Yet here he was feeling clingy. Being clingy. 

His fingers drummed on the steering wheel of his car as he sat outside his wife’s gallery, gaze wandering over the building. Doubts clouded his mind as he second, third-guessed his actions. 

The sudden knock against the glass of his driver’s side window made him jump, head whipping around to pull down the tinted glass. 

One of Y/N’s gallery employees looked down at him, eyes full of curiosity.

   “Ah, Mr. Hwang, it’s you.” 

Hyunjin forced a smile, attempting to hide the uneasiness that stirred within him. To not appear as suspicious as he thought he looked, sitting out here in the outdoor parking lot wracking his brains. 

Nervous, anxious, but painfully missing his wife.

   “...She left so early, so…” His excuse trailed off, trying to settle the nervous twinge in his tone with a clear of his throat.

The young woman smiled with her nod as she straightened, glancing back at the glass building of the gallery.

   “Director Yeom had an early meeting that ended not too long ago. But now, she’s holed up working. I’m slightly worried...” The employee sighed, her brows furrowing with slight concern.

Words that are just enough to push away all of Hyunjin’s second-guessing. 

The trophy husband was already stepping out of his vehicle.

   “Let’s get her to take a break then.” He mumbled with a gentle smile, nodding at her before he was already striding ahead.

The gallery director herself had indeed been holed away since the early morning. Reworking a proposal that she suddenly needed to do after her meeting. As a gallery owner, the majority of her work was centered around securing investment and funding to keep it running. From managing visitors, renting out parts of the pretty space for events and shoots, to attracting rich patrons and people who had enough money to spend on her, her hands were always full.

But she wanted to do something different this time around. A gala, where proceeds would go towards sponsoring aspiring artists. The rich would get a chance to flaunt their wealth, and the starving artists would get a chance to showcase their talent through her gallery.

Y/N would like to think the meeting went well.

Most of the people who were attracted to her gallery outside of everyday visitors, were the wives of the wealthy businessmen in their circle, familiar faces that Y/N had grown up around. They loved to show off their wealth. Purchasing pieces and hosting events at her gallery had become a popular trend of some sorts in the recent years. Maybe it was to do with the fact that Y/N was going against her family and doing something she was passionate about. The high society women lingered about to either scope out the gossip that surrounded that or maybe they were truly infatuated with the wonderful artwork she had collected and exhibited in her gallery.

Madam Kim was one such prominent woman in their high society. The madame of one of the country’s leading law firms, her late husband is still a respected figure even now, years after his demise. 

The gallery director had initially wanted to propose a potential partnership with Madam Kim’s daughter-in-law, a woman who was an appreciator of art, and a regular patron of Y Gallery. But when the director had reached out, she had gotten a response from the matriarch of the family instead.

Y/N wasn’t complaining. Madam Kim was one of the more tolerable individuals of the elite class, humble in her ways, yet still had an immense influence on the other women and wives of her social circles. Maybe she had gotten lucky.

Or maybe not. The extra work that Madam Kim had requested was starting to take a toll on the gallery director whose eyes were starting to sting. Tell-tale signs of an oncoming migraine already throbbed at her temples.

The knock on her door faltered her machine-like fingers typing away with a frenzy, her eyes shooting over her glasses to take a glance at the incoming visitor.

She expected to see her secretary, perhaps with the drafted email the gallery director had been awaiting. But instead, the long dark locks of her husband’s appeared in her line of sight, and she stiffened at the sight of his figure entering her office.

For a brief second, the two of them stare at each other, simply just taking in each other’s presence, eyes floundering over one anothers face after not having seen it in what almost felt like years. Hyunjin’s eyes flicked to her desk, at the bottle of pain pills that rested by her glass of water, a sight that made his brows furrowed with a frown.

   “Have you slept?” He questioned with a sigh, the concern on his expression deepening.

Her eyes followed his to the same pills. She had taken two in attempts to soothe that headache that pounded at her temples, but of course it hadn’t worked. Instead she decided she would push through this workload before taking a power nap.

   “Not yet.” Her response wasn’t surprising, making her husband groan slightly, his arms crossing over his chest.

   “Have you eaten?” He continued, already understanding what her response was from the silent stare she shot him.

Y/N wanted to break into a laugh, to point out the creases that settled between his brows as he looked at her with an upset frown, clearly displeased by her answers. 

She wanted to break into a laugh because he was one more question away from becoming a nagging spouse. 

Instead she stifled the urge, sighing as her eyes darted to the bright screen that burned her eyes, before they settled back on his form just a few feet away.

   “I’ll eat soon. I promise.” She muttered.

   “Ten minutes.” His words followed immediately after her apparent hollow promise, making her tilt her head in slight confusion.

   “You have ten minutes before I force you to eat.” He added, his brows narrowing.

His words caught her off guard, a tone of his that she had never heard before. An expression that looked foreign too, as he stared with her pointedly. Yet she didn’t hate the sight of it. Rather, it sparked something else in her. That familiar challenged sensation erupted within her. Mixed with something else. Something she couldn’t really describe without thinking about him on his knees again. 

   “Force me to eat?” Y/N repeated, raising an eyebrow.

She leaned back into the cushion of her chair, her fingers lacing together in front of her. The gallery director watched her husband uncross his arms from over his chest, sliding them into the pockets of his slacks before a teasing smile tugged on his lips.

   “Spoon-feed you if I have to. Airplane and all.” His words were laced with a mischievous edge, watching as she squinted for a second, before finally breaking into that laugh she tried her best to stifle.

The contagious sound made her trophy husband mirror, his eyes creasing as his chuckles followed.

His anxieties faded almost instantly at the sound. At the sight of her.

   “Give me ten minutes. I’ll bring you something to eat.” 

Y/N opened her mouth to protest. Maybe to refuse or maybe to lie about not being hungry. But Hyunjin doesn’t allow her to, pointing a finger at her with a commanding tone.

   “Ten minutes. Sit tight.” He shot, already heading out the door.

Ten minutes. She pressed her lips into a soft smile, staring at the empty spot her husband had been standing in.

True to his words, ten minutes later the gallery director’s husband returned. Nodding at her secretary who sat outside her office, his grin radiated almost as he carried whatever nutritious breakfast he could scour for his wife, though it was long past breakfast time. 

But when he entered the room, he was greeted by silence.

He had expected to hear more rushed typing, the sound of her fingers working against the keyboard was a sound so familiar to him, he was slightly stunned by the quiet.

His gaze shifted to settle on the gallery director. The sight of her slumped figure, passed out on her arms over the desk, both fascinated and awed him all at once. 

She lasted ten minutes, barely. Unable to keep her eyes open. He was slightly impressed when he had entered earlier, it was clear she was exhausted, yet would have pushed herself further if he hadn’t distracted her.

Hyunjin sighed, gently placing down the bag of takeout on the coffee table before walking towards her. His eyes skimmed over her desk, at the cluttered surface that resembled her make-shift workstation that was their living room table.

He picked up the crumpled balls of paper, pushing it aside before he pulled out the chair on his side softly, taking a seat across. He leaned against the leather, getting comfortable as he simply gazed down at the exhausted woman who would have sworn she wasn’t sleepy, wasn’t exhausted if asked. But here she was now, softly inhaling and exhaling.

His eyes drifted to her laptop, the screen still glowing brightly, clear that she had fallen asleep not too long ago. 

Gently, Hyunjin reached out, fingers pushing back a stray lock of her hair, a fond smile tugging on his lips as he watched her breathe softly. His gaze shifted to the notepad beside her, amidst the crumpled papers and stacked sheets of ink. 

The open notepad was covered with a jumble of words, arrows, and little annotations in her meticulous handwriting. Despite the confusion of the notes, a few familiar words caught his attention, prompting him to slide the laptop in front of himself. With a nod to himself, he leaned forward and began typing. His eyes flit over the screen once to linger on her form.

   “The things I do for you.” He muttered under his breath, patting her hair softly before diving into the task at hand.

The sound of the press of keys had been a distant sound, yet as she stirred away, it had grown louder.

The gallery director’s lids fluttered open, staring at a sight that should have been strange, yet it didn’t feel so. Maybe she was still dazed from her impromptu nap, refreshed eyes still adjusting as she took in the sight of her husband absorbed between the laptop screen and her notepad, his fingers meticulously working against the keyboard.

It should have been a strange sight. Seeing Hwang Hyunjin working. On something that he claimed not to know about, claimed not to care about. But it wasn’t strange at all.

Instead, her heart clenched, the shielded, guarded organ of hers, suddenly racing in her chest. And all she wanted to do now was reach over and kiss him. 

A incoming notification on her laptop broke the comfortable silence that had settled in her office. An email from her secretary sitting outside, the notification of the email draft Y/N had requested popped up on the screen. It instantly drew Hyunjin’s attention, his eyes scanning the subject-line almost instinctively.

   “Artist Armin…” He muttered, reading to himself.

Y/N’s brows narrowed, a wave of bitterness spreading over her tongue as she slowly sat up. Movements that have Hyunjin look up to her. His gaze softening at the sight of her awoken state.

   “Is it written ‘A-R-Min’ or ‘R-Dot-Min.” She asked, her tone slightly groggy. 

Hyunjin glanced back at the screen, at the notification that lingered on the corner.

   “A-R-Min.” He replied, looking at her with slight wonder.

Y/N inhaled deeply, before letting out a slight groan.

   “It’s supposed to be R-Dot-Min.” She grunted almost, reaching over for the laptop so she could send the corrections to her secretary.

   “I’ll do it. You eat.” Hyujin pressed instead, pulling the device closer to him. 

An action that made her arch and eyebrow.

   “Really? You want to be my personal secretary now?” A smile had spread on her lips.

Hyunjin shrugged, his smug smile returning on his face.

   “What does the compensation package look like?” He chuckled, already ready to type the email to her secretary.

Y/N stood, stretching before she headed towards the bag of food, slightly hungrier than she was before her nap.

   “Anything you want.” Her words are more casual, distracted fingers pulling out her breakfast and lunch.

Her words make Hyunjin pause, fingers hovering over the keys.

For a moment, he wondered if asking for a kiss right now, maybe even daringly asking if he could lift her onto her desk, would be enough compensation. But he caught himself almost instantly, clearing his throat before grabbing the laptop to join her by the couch.

   “R-Dot-Min, right?” He confirmed once again.

Y/N’s hands stilled against the container of food, tasting bitterness all over again.

   “Yes.” She almost spat.

Her gaze drifted off, her thoughts suddenly elsewhere as she ate.

Hyunjin watched her movements, the way her fork disappeared into her mouth, the way her lips wrapped around the bottle of water. It made his own throat dry, his thoughts swirling, and he had to bite back the urge to say something. He didn’t want to sound like some pervert who couldn’t think of anything beyond wanting her all to himself, but suddenly, he couldn’t help it. Those thoughts lingered, darting through his thoughts.

He dropped his gaze, staring at the shiny surface of the glass table between them. He had to remind himself to control himself. To stop thinking like some fuckboy after her body. The trophy husband gnawed at his lower lip, trying to steady himself, his mind.

The gallery director watched as she dropped the empty container of her now-devoured food, wiping her lips. Her eyes lingered on Hyunjin, sitting across from her, his teeth tugging at his bottom lip, before he glanced back at her.

   “Who’s R.Min anyways?” Hyunjin cleared his throat, sending the email corrections to her secretary.

Y/N fell silent at the mention of the artist, the one Madam Kim wanted to collaborate with simply because her grandson had liked his work. 

What do lawyers know about art, anyway? 

She had groaned to herself during the meeting, though outwardly she had smiled, offering her radiant social grin and empty compliments, promising to follow through and try her best for a collaboration.

   “He’s a painter.” She answered curtly, rising to her feet.

Silence settled between them once more as Hyunjin set the laptop aside. The sound of another email pinged, cutting through the quiet, and both of them glanced at the screen.

   “Your secretary sent the email to R.Min.” He read aloud, eyes drifting over her.

A flicker of irritation drew over her expression, arms crossing as she muttered something under her breath. Likely a curse, though Hyunjin couldn’t quite catch it.

   “Enough about that artist—Do you remember what you did last night?” Her voice was sharp.

Her blunt question made him stiffen, his eyes widening slightly as he watched her from his seated position, suddenly wanting to melt into the leather. He swallowed a few times, unsure of what kind of answer would ease the irritation still lingering on her face. The scowl shot towards him, ones he thought he would have gotten rid of after he had pleasured her last night.

   “I do…” He finally sighed, his gleaming gaze flickering from his fingers to her face.

   “Why are you nervous? Do you regret it?” She asked.

Another question that made his eyes widen, this time more from the fear of her misunderstanding than anything else. 

   “No!” He almost exclaimed, licking his lips to calm himself down.

She blinked, slightly taken aback by his loud response. The pressing expression, the piercing gaze that he stared up at her with.

Her eyes traced over his rigid form that looked up at her. 

Nervous. Passionate perhaps. 

Kissable.

The gallery director only needed two long strides.

Three steps and she was towering over him, her figure already leaning into him. Hyunjin reflexively drew himself back as she inched closer, until he was pressing flush against the leather of the sofa, trapped almost. He inhaled sharply, stunned eyes darting between hers to grasp exactly what was happening, why she was suddenly so close.

Could she hear his heart about to explode in his chest?

Y/N can’t help but stare in fascination. This up-close view of her pretty husband was even more breathtaking than last night, his open eyes boring into hers. She could see the nervous twinge in his gaze, something she hadn’t truly expected from the ever-so-cocky Hwang Hyunjin. Yet, seeing it now, she couldn’t help but smile at how cute he looked beneath her.

Her fingers ghost over his lips. The ones she had gotten a feel of after stealing a kiss in his sleep. Although she would never, ever admit she had done so. He shuddered almost, even without her touching him yet.

   “I-is this a dream?” He found himself muttering instead.

Her brow arched at his words.

   “You dream of me?” She countered, her tone laced with a teasing edge, a hint of amusement.

Hyunjin swallowed hard.

   “No.”

He was trying his best. To cling onto that fragile thread of sanity left in him. To not appear desperate, craving her touch, her lips. Ready to melt underneath her.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, her gaze dropping to his lips for a split second before locking with his eyes again. Clearly unconvinced.

   “I don’t kiss liars.” She murmured smugly.

Hyunjin swallowed hard. The thread snapped.

His hands shot out, slipping behind her hair to rest again the nape of her neck, tugging her toward him. 

His lips crash against hers. Desperate, frantic. 

All control shattered, his sanity slipping away as he pulled her closer. 

Closer. 

Into himself, wrapping his arms around her, settling her over him, onto his lap.

Melting underneath her. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

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