#and in doing so you share a part of yourself with the world

[yanderenightmare]

Mark Grayson — Invincible Variants

♡ TW: nsfw, yandere, poly yanderes, captive reader, invincible variants in general, you've seen the show

♡ GN reader

You’re dead in every other universe. 

It’s his fault.

He tries to save you, but he’s too late—every single time.

And in every universe, it’s what pushes him to embrace his Viltrumite nature. It’s his canon event. The moment he realizes he can’t trust in the weak constitution of human beings, it costs him too much, so he adopts his father's truth—things that drop dead like flies have the same value, meaning worthless.

So you can imagine the clusterfuck raging on in each of their heads when they find out you’re alive and well in the universe they’ve been told to wreak havoc in.

And you’re as pretty as the day they lost you. And teary-eyed and scared and cute, calling out for your Mark to come and save you. Oh fuck, how their cold hearts all melted at once.

The plan changed then. If this were the only world you were still alive in, then it was the only world they needed to conquer. And with eighteen of them, it wouldn’t be hard.

Or well, so it proved to be a little hard…

But the eight of them that survived killed Angstrom. Then locked your Mark up, thinking he could be convenient to keep.

It didn’t even take a week before Earth surrendered in full.

That wasn’t the hard part. In fact, it’s good that over half of them died—because sharing you between the eight of them is the real challenge. 

It’s not something they’re used to. Fights break out daily. And they don’t care about the damage dealt. It’s like kids stomping on an anthill just for the fun of it, leaving thousands to die every time.

Feeling as though it’s your responsibility, you try your best to please them all. Coming up with schedules—how they can alter daily or even hourly if need be—but it all proves fruitless. All you end up doing is begging them not to fight—on your knees, bowing while sobbing, holding onto the edge of their cape, pleading with them to stay.

They seem to like that. When you lower yourself.

Most of them refer to you as a pet. 

You remember Mark saying his father said he saw his mom the same way. You remember your Mark being disgusted by it. But even those of them who don’t refer to you that way still treat you like one, like something lesser, like something they’re letting live for personal reasons, not because you’re something that deserves to live.

The kinder Marks have a little more decorum about it. The superiority has really gotten to their heads, trying to spare you the understanding of how they truly see you, as if you can’t read between the lines. You don’t know if you dislike them more than the cruel Marks. At least they’re honest about it.

You’re starting to doubt whether your Mark is even still alive…

You’d cried for weeks on end to see him. And when they’d finally complied, they took you to the prison cell where they were holding him. You’d sobbed and kissed him and told him how much you missed him and how terrible everything had been without him, how you weren’t sure how much more you could take. 

He’d played along well enough for a while—you hadn’t been able to tell. But at some point, the way he touched you just didn’t feel right.

He laughed once you understood it. Mocked you. Licked the tears off your cheek with a grin and said it was worth it playing your weak-willed wimp version of them just to see that pretty look on your face. A couple of the others came in after that—they’d all found it just as funny. And then they told you they knew of a way to cure your loneliness—after all, why have your wimpy Invincible, when you can have the elite?

One time, when you were being extra whiny, as they call it, they’d taken you up in the sky and used you to play catch.

Mark had taken you flying before, but he’d never ever dropped you. And so you’d screamed until your voice gave out, and then you’d just closed your eyes and prayed for death.

But that wasn’t the worst part of it, as you found out… No, the worst part was when they’d undressed you and started playing something different with you. In the air, thirty thousand feet above the ground.

They all might look like Mark, but none of them are anything like him—some more than others. Beyond just sadistic, they’re psychotic. No humanity left, just trigger-happy thrill-seeking maniacs. They don’t even fight each other over you—they fight each other for fun. Coming back with mangled legs and broken jaws. Because why not? It’s no matter. They’re healed within the week. They don’t care about the many lives they’ve left in their wake.

But you’d caught a foul cold after their skylarking.

They’re not used to facing consequences—didn’t know who to blame but each other. Didn’t know how to fix it either—all scared you were going to die. They never did it again after that.

That’s not to say your life became any easier.

The dynamics became ever more strange the more months that passed...

At first thy wouldn’t fuck you at the same time, then they would, but without acknowledging the others presence, then it became a competition to see who could fuck you best. 

It’s not like that anymore.

Their narcissism has now evolved into a strange attraction towards each other. And it’s odd as fuck to be caught in the middle off.

They like watching each other fuck you now. Getting off on seeing themselves get off, using you more like a toy than a partner.

Any day now, and you’re sure they’re going to start kissing and touching each other.

Fuck knows what your role will be in all of it when that time comes.

♡ MISCELLANEOUS masterlist

[parasocial-animal]

I don’t know what to think about this whole “digital detox” wave.

On one hand I agree that the quality of informations shared declines as the means to share them become more available and convenient. That’s why we have the brain rot thing, so much of our metaphorical bandwidth is used for ballerina cappuccina or whatever. It is also used for influencers to advertise morning routines products and fitness sets.

On the other hand, I feel like the digital detox / minimalism / IRL movement is a bit a new scheme to sell minimalist setups for your “dumb phone” if not an entire new phone to keep you away from tik tok and instagram.

Like the debate around IA, I feel like you can’t be against these technologies without willingly isolating yourself from a big part of the current culture. Most importantly, you lose nuance and start refusing entirely tools that could help you. Social media has helped me find resources on mental health when I needed them, it got me into philosophy and critical thinking by engaging with it critically and sharing my perspective on the content I saw with my friends and loved ones.

It is a big part of who I am today and has consolidated nuance and complexity in the way I see the world. I think I am a better human for it. But I am aware it took a lot of work and IRL conversations to get to that point. So I guess I would advocate for balance ? Do not eat up the new trend of rejecting technology, and do not drink the kool aid of techno fetishism.

Make it your own, absorb it and mold it anyway you want.

Amen

[baiwu-jinji]

After the arrests last year of danmei authors who published their works on the Taiwanese website Haitang, the authorities have allegedly arrested another 200-300 authors, many of whom took to weibo to share their experiences recently.

What struck me is how the authors always blamed themselves for not being cautious enough or being led astray by their financial needs, but nobody put the blame on the unjust rules and the greed of the authorities that led to their arrests - not that they would dare to. It's an utterly bizarre situation that, as a new danmei English license seems to be announced once every few days here on the other side of China's Great Firewall, within China the persecution keeps getting more rampant and the danmei community feels more and more cornered and frightened. Reality is always more surreal than fiction.

I translated some of the author's weibo posts, please see below:

“I knew I was being naïve and over-optimistic (about the repercussions of writing danmei), so I can’t blame anyone. Sometimes I want to resent society but then I’ll give up the thought. As for the criminal punishment, my view on it is still the same - I even feel that I’m different from those who engage in prostitution; after all, I made all this money by typing my stories word by word. Yet when I got into trouble, people talked about it as if I didn’t have to work for my income.” - This is from an author who wrote danmei because her family’s poor and she wanted to save money to travel. She got into a master’s programme before this and the programme kicked her out because of her arrest.

“Ever since I was little, I’ve always been the well-behaved golden child in my parents’ eyes. I had the best grades among my peers and won scholarships in both high school and university. When we visited family during New Year and other festivals, my parents were always proud of me in front of our relatives. But that day I shamed them thoroughly and the shame will always stick around...I love the characters I wrote very much, planning and creating their stores always brought me so much happiness and fulfillment. But a mistake is a mistake. I want to use my personal experience to admonish others - don’t try to go against the regulations in any way ever, don’t put yourself in the slightest bit of risk.”

“I’ve never felt this horrible in my entire life. I’ve always firmly believed that nobody in this world could be that bad. My rose-tinted glasses were broken along with my romantic expectations for the world. My values and outlook on life were shattered. When something like this happens, perhaps only the family of the author involved and the author herself would be hurt deeply! It’s just business for everyone else!”

This one’s written by the author’s sibling: “Another sleepless night. Tomorrow is the Dragon Boat Festival, and it’s been three festivals since we could be together...I’ve felt remorseful for countless times that I didn’t contact more people and I felt that I haven’t done enough. I prayed to the gods and the Buddha for more times in the past two months than in the past 30 years. Besides asking for the Heaven’s protection and blessing, what else can we do?...You supported yourself financially during university solely by doing part-time jobs. We’ve always put too much importance on money, and that’s how we allowed you to make a mistake.”

(link to the original weibo posts: https://x.com/whyyoutouzhele/status/1928763362541818266)

[dollychou]

HOW ONE PIECE MEN SHOW LOVE TO YOUR ITTY BITTIES ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

ᰔ . . ꒰ featuring: monkey d. luffy, roronoa zoro, vinsmoke sanji, portgas d. ace, trafalgar law ꒱

✉��� ྀི . . based on this request! hope i wrote it well since i'm a big chest girlie >_< !

monkey d. luffy does it playfully ♡

luffy loves to touch them whenever and wherever he can. you have had to tell him off on a few occasions to explain to him that he can't just be fondling with it in just any odd place. and even though he pouts and doesn't truly understand the harm, he respects your wishes.

though who can blame him? — he just really likes how they feel. you tell him that they're so tiny and there's nothing to grab but he shuts you down by giving it a soft squish. you yelp at the feeling and despite your frown and scoldings, there's truly no malice behind it. you secretly love how he just touches them regardless of the time of day. while he's eating, or when he just walks by, he shows them a massive amount of love and that's all cause he likes them just that much!

"they're sort of bigger than mine," he comments while grabbing onto his chest and on to one of your boobs. your face flushes a deep pink and you think he's teasing you but when you see his face, you can tell he was simply stating an observation and really meant nothing by it. he looks at you with this adorably curious expression and asks, "you think one of your bras could fit me?"

"luffy!," you yell, flicking his forehead lightly. he rubs the spot where you hit him and pouts. "ouch! what? i was just asking! maybe we can share!" despite your frown, you can't help the sweet feeling that bubbles inside of you. your boyfriend can be pretty clueless and dumb at times but you know he'd never say anything with animosity — if anything, you find it all so amusing regardless of what you may say.

roronoa zoro does it sincerely ♡

zoro cannot comprehend why you feel as if you're less pretty or sexy for not having such big boobs. he's not with you for that and so he doesn't see it as such a problem. but he knows you can get insecure about it from time to time so he's made it a priority of his to tell you how much he adores them at any moment he can.

whenever he's feeling stressed or tired, he loves to cup one of them in either one or both of his hands and squeeze them. they're like stress balls to him. and he adores how he can fit it all in his hand and that it is just for him to hold. sometimes he forgets how much strength he has and accidentally squeezes it a bit too hard, leaving a bruise.

you're wearing one of his tees and staring at yourself in the mirror with this disappointed look on your face. he comes in from behind you, eyeing you up and down with a small smirk on his face. "stealing my clothes now hm?," he muses, lightly ruffling your hair. you sigh and jut your bottom lip out as you feel over your chest. "i practically look like a boy. there's nothing there," you breath out, your face falling even further.

he knits his eyebrows together in slight frustration at hearing your words. he wraps an arm around your waist and nuzzles his face into your neck, peppering soft kisses along it. "you look good. much better than i do in this so you keep it," he whispers, landing a sweet peck to your cheek. you look at him through the mirror and can see he means what he says and though there's a part of you that doesn't wholly believe it, your heart flutters at how much he shows your adoration for you and your cute boobs!

vinsmoke sanji does it lovingly ♡

when sanji finds out your insecurity with your 'perfectly crafted chest' — as he so put it — he's showering you with compliments every single day. it's not always specifically about your chest though, just anything and everything to do with your blinding beauty. "you're the most beautiful woman in the world"; "my heart cannot handle how divine you look"; "i'm always in awe of your beauty" — just some of the many compliments he has said to you on a daily basis.

whenever you wear anything that reveals even a bit of your chest, he's head over heels. he's running and prancing around telling you how gorgeous you look. and he does not even try to be discreet. he's staring right at it, eyes glued to it and you have to smack him across the head to get him back to his senses. though it only works for a matter of seconds before he's gazing back at them almost dreamily.

you've arrived at fishman island and the moment he sees you wearing the cutest bikini set, his nose is bleeding and he feels his heart pounding out of his chest. usopp and chopper do their best to revive him and thankfully, they pull through! you hold him in your arms and stroke his hair and sigh softly, "sweetheart, what got into you?"

he cups your face and smiles dearly, "my love, you just look so... sexy in this set. and the top is so cute, it fits so perfectly. and before you say anything, look at the state you put me in! god, you're much more beautiful than any mermaid around." your cheeks dust with a light pink shade and you peer down at yourself. though you don't entirely see how he can have such a reaction to you when all these other girls and mermaids are around, it still brings a smile to your face that he sees you so beautifully.

portgas d. ace does it openly ♡

ace has no shame when it comes to worshipping your bitty boobs — and yes, he worships them. when he comes up behind to hug you, his hands will go from your waist and slowly but surely slide up to give your chest some loving. you swat at his hands, scolding him to not do such things so publicly, but he doesn't listen and instead gives them another gentle squeeze. and the minute he hears you say anything bad about them — "they're so small"; "how can you like them?"; "i wish they were bigger" — he scoops you up in his arms and starts to kiss them all over. in between each kiss he'll say, "they're perfect. they're perfect 'cause they're yours."

he loves to lay his face in between them, patting softly on both of them with his hands. he likes the thumping noises they make when he does so. he'll pretend as if he's playing the drums, making 'ba-dum' and 'pshh' noises from his mouth. at times, he gets a bit too excited and hits just a bit harder than usual which earns him a light slap to his cheek. and you want to be mad at him but with the way he pouts and looks at with you with those puppy eyes of his, it's damn hard to be.

ace is getting into bed, crawling on top of you. his eyes are drooping with sleep but the second he sees you in that adorable lingerie top of yours, he's suddenly awake! he dons that infamous smirk of his and lowers down your top to expose your chest and he lets out a content sigh. he just looks at them for a few seconds, not uttering a word, which gets you red in the face, flushed from embarrassment.

he begins kissing it and giving your nipples little kitten licks which makes you let out soft, quiet noises that has him smiling from ear to ear. he feels your fingers tangle in his hair, gently combing through it. he flops down on you and begins to suckle on your boobs. god, he wishes he could just do this forever and if he could, he knows he'd die a happy man. "my two sweet little things," he sighs heartily, going back to show some more love.

trafalgar law does it delicately ♡

law knows how much this insecurity of yours can bother you and though he's never been so good with his words, he does his best to show you. he might just hold them in his hands mindlessly as he works or he might pepper them with kisses before going to bed — he tries his best to ease your mind of this in whatever way he can and he hopes he's doing his best.

he sees the way you look at other woman, your face falling when you see the 'assets' they possess and you don't. the minute he senses that you're doubting yourself, he brings you into his embrace and places a kiss to your temple and whispers to you, "have i told you you're beautiful?". you smile sweetly, letting out a sigh and snuggling into his arms. he whispers a few more sweet-nothings to you and does so until you let go and sees that bright grin of yours again.

you had recently bought this new lingerie set and were wanting to use it to spice up the bedroom. you're standing in front of law, twiddling with your fingers nervously. he tilts his head and walks closer to you, asking softly, "what's wrong?". he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, patiently waiting for you to confide in him. he's trying his best not to just tear it apart and eat you up this very second.

you tell him that you think it looks unflattering on you because you don't have bigger boobs and he instantly pulls you in, placing a chaste kiss to your forehead. "you look so good," he says, eyes roaming all over your body. "it doesn't matter to me that they're small. they're pretty to me regardless." safe to say, he really showed you how much he loves and appreciates your body how they are. and afterwards he thinks to himself that he needs to buy you more of those lingerie sets.

© dollychou ⋮ do not copy, repost, or translate any works.

[wendichester]

⋆˚✿˖° prettier than heaven,

summary. to castiel, you're as pretty as flowers, as pretty than the universe itself.

pairing. castiel x reader genre. fluff

wordcount. 473

He stares at you like you hung the stars.

You’re not even doing anything special—just sitting cross-legged on the hood of the Impala, biting into a gas station snack with more chemicals than actual food in it, eyes turned lazily up to the sky. Your hair’s a little messy, there's smudged eyeliner at the corners of your eyes, and you’ve got mustard on your thumb.

And Castiel is looking at you like you’re the first beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

You glance at him, eyebrow raised. “You’re staring again.”

“I know,” he says simply.

He doesn’t look away.

You let out a breath, somewhere between flattered and flustered. “Seriously. Do I have something on my face?”

“Yes,” he says, leaning closer.

You blink.

“There,” he says softly, reaching out. His thumb brushes the corner of your mouth, careful and reverent, like he thinks you’ll shatter if he touches you wrong.

You freeze. His hand lingers, just barely.

“...Mustard,” he explains, voice quieter now. “You had a bit on your—on your face.”

“Oh.” You laugh awkwardly, pulling back slightly, suddenly hyperaware of your entire existence. “Right. That’s glamorous.”

He tilts his head. “I don’t understand.”

You sigh, cheeks warm. “I mean, I’m a mess right now. And you’re just… staring. Like I’m not.”

He says nothing for a moment.

Then: “To me, you’re as beautiful as flowers.”

You pause mid-snort.

“What?”

He nods, serious as ever. “Or perhaps more so. Flowers fade quickly. You are constant.”

Your throat goes a little dry.

“And the stars,” he continues, softly now. “I’ve seen them up close. I've walked between planets, witnessed the dust of galaxies being born. But even with all of that... I have never been compelled the way I am when I look at you.”

You blink at him. Hard.

“I—” you start, but it comes out choked. “Cas. You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” you breathe, heartbeat climbing, “normal people don’t compare other people to galaxies.”

“I’m not normal,” he says. Matter-of-fact. Like that’s the whole point. “I’m an angel. And you are the most beautiful part of my experience on Earth.”

Your hands curl against the metal of the Impala. The world feels too quiet all of a sudden. Too still. Like everything’s holding its breath around his words.

You swallow, trying to laugh it off, but it comes out soft. Fragile.

“Okay, well. You’re not too bad yourself, angel boy.”

Castiel looks almost confused. “You think I’m… attractive?”

You nod. “Devastatingly.”

“Oh,” he says, blinking. Then—he smiles. Just a little. Barely there. But real.

And when he looks up at the stars beside you, it’s different now.

He isn’t looking for wonder.

He’s sharing it.

And you? You let yourself lean just a bit closer.

Just in case he wants to keep comparing you to the universe.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[kodigriffinofficial20]

As a writer, I have never used chatgtp for writing. When it came out, I literally didn’t know what it was, so I messed around with it and asked it tons of questions like most people did. And I would ask it to give me names for stupid things like characters, songs (that I never wrote), or movies that don’t exist. But never to write my stories. I was never tempted, it never came to my mind. It was just a thing to mess around with, a toy. Then, after a few days of having fun, I threw it away and never touched it again. Like I was a toddler that had just been given a toy, and after playing with it for a few days, slobbering on it and chewing on it with my barely-there teeth, I toss it aside for the arguably-more-fun cardboard box.

Then, I started hearing about writers feeling on chatgtp and it’s implications. I felt simultaneously guilty I even touched it and proud I never used it to write. I will never understand the obsession people have with wanting generative Ai to write for you. Using it to generate your entire books and stories. It baffles me.

Now, here’s where my opinion differs. This is gonna be very unpopular and a lot of people will probably hate me for saying this. I think Ai, should be fine to be used, in some cases.

For instance, Ai grammar checkers like Grammarly, which I use, should be ok and not be shamed, but they are.

Or, if there’s a name you need for your world, or something like that. I think Ai is fine to use for that. It’s the same as using a name generator imo. Just say generate me a name for my fantasy world. Or a name for a place, or a creature. Just something you can’t think of yourself.

Sometimes, in writing, there are things that people despise, like naming people, or backstories, or making up creatures, that end up preventing people from moving on in their projects. I feel like if you can just type “give me a name for my cyber punk, side character girl.” And after two seconds you can move on, why not?

Or, another scenario: two archeologists being chased in a jungle. What are they being chased by? I don’t know, let me sit here for twenty minutes thinking and googling about it, losing momentum and deciding to quit writing for the day and come back tomorrow. I now have writers block for two weeks. Or, “give me a possibly supernatural creature to chase my two archeologists in the Mayan jungle for my story.” And continue writing for the rest of the day.

I don’t understand why Ai helping in any way is bad. I do understand some of the horrible things that the Ai companies are doing. I know some of the bad data mining things they do, and the bad stuff Ai perpetuates. However, the shortcuts that I gave, are useful. And if we can find an Ai that isn’t as bad as the others, then we should share that Ai as the one to use for those reasons.

Now, the internet won’t actually read this part they will only hate me and just spew hatred, I don’t actually use Ai. I am a bit of a hypocrite here, because I am not using the examples given. Except for Grammarly, I use that. I have used Ai to give me character names a couple of times but that was a long time ago. I was just giving my opinion that using the Ai in those ways should be acceptable.

Having it write for you is too much. Let the Ai work with you, not instead of you.

"I know chatgpt is bad but you just don't really have any choice" you literally do. Don't use it. Have some moral backbone.

[coupsalchemy]

Hothouse Flower [Part 2]

Summary - Your five year relationship with him ended two years ago. You need to move on, have to, since you are the only one stuck in the past. Jeonghan moved on, happy, gallivanting away. When you finally agree to meet up a fellow heartbroken stranger set up by 'Get Love Quick', you didn't expect to see him there.

Tags: Jeonghan x f.reader, exes! au, second chance romance, angst, yearning, fluff, suggestive, SLOW BURN

Warnings: mdni, very suggestive, just a very angry Jeonghan, swearing, and a lot of grammatical mistakes as English isn't my first language.

Word Count: 20k (this part, total 40k)

Please read part 1

A's Note: I've been working on this for like four months. Please get ready for the angst and yearning. The birth of this story took place from Don't Wanna Cry Jeonghan falling onto his knees in yearning, and the song 'no one noticed by the marias'.

I wanted to write a story where reader gets to forget everything and be in the world of the fiction, enjoy momentary bliss instead of the bitter taste of life, at least for some time. So by the time you complete reading this part, next part would have already been uploaded. If I succeeded in making you forget everything and you enjoyed the fic please let me know so I can stare at your message for eternity in happiness.

Also I want to thank my two friends who have been patiently answering my questions, and kept on encouraging me all the time. If not for you two this wouldn't have happened. Thank you!!

divider credits to the rightful owner.

Jeonghan shifts in his chair uncomfortably. You made the mistake of meeting his eyes, the darkness in them pulled you in, his eyebrows pulled in, and a breath escaping his parted lips. You curl the stray hair falling on your cheek behind your ear, “no, I am good.”

Inhaling a deep breath you center yourself. One dinner and you will be on your way again. Nothing will happen. It would be like two long lost friends sharing a meal. Friends who know each other way too intimately. You set your purse on the table, dragging the chair out and sitting on it. The wetness of your palms leaves a handprint on the wooden table. 

Jeonghan is still guarded, still holding up his walls. You read the signs, the clench of his jaw, and the fist of his hands resting on the table. Why are you seeing him again and again? Just when you thought you are doing better than you ever are. The cruel games of life always surprises you especially when it picks out your weakest spot and punches you there again and again. Jeonghan is that for you. Jeonghan is for you. 

“Hi.”

Hearing his voice rattles the calmness you built with deep inhales and exhales, throws you on a road with oncoming cars and nowhere to go. Something warm, something him, and something you know all too well. “Hi.” 

He searches your face, leaning into the table, resting his arms on the table. “How are you?” His tone softens like the whispers shared in the middle of the night. 

The world fades away. All you can see is him, his sunken cheeks, tired eyes with black circles around them, and he has lost weight since you last saw him. Questions rest on the tip of your tongue— are you eating? Are you even sleeping? What happened to you? Too scared to ask him. Too scared to hear what you are avoiding to acknowledge.

“I am good.” You answer, your hand rests on the table, a few inches away from his. Your fingers stretch and clamp shut, close but far. “Doing good.”

“I can see.” The fluorescent lights glisten his unshed tears like a star sparkling in the night sky. He tilts his head to the side, “I am happy.”

His forefinger stretches, brushing your hand before sitting back in his chair. His long hair is ruffled, a few strays here and there. He must have trimmed the ends, you remember them being longer in the dark of your room. The black jacket sits beautifully on his shoulders bringing out his collarbones, the white satin shirt dones him well. 

“I was scared,” he says, your attention moving from the bare skin to his pink chapped lips. “I couldn’t even hope of you sitting with me,” he pauses, “that too on a date.”

He is laying it down, this is a date and he isn’t going to take any other answer for it. You can run away now, if you want to. One look at him, his focused gaze is all you needed to tell he isn’t going to let you go now, not without a fight. You have seen this look on him when you went on a date with someone else. 

You shrug in response, playing with the ends of the menu. “How do you know Sunhee?”

“Are you ready to order?” A waiter pops at your table before he can answer. 

You hastily flip the menu reading the foreign words butchering the pronunciation in your head. The date at this restaurant had to be your first clue. Jeonghan has always been big on dining at places like this during your relationship, and it took him a while to tone it down and go to the comfortable ones you love. 

“Can I order on behalf of you?” His question startles you. The waiter is scribbling down on her notepad before looking at you expectantly. Pink tints your cheeks, chewing on your lower lip you nod wearily. You feel so out of place. Jeonghan’s gaze lingers longer on you, and without a glance at the menu he just orders. 

“No seafood, please.” You budge in hurriedly in case the waiter marches off. 

“This is all chicken,” she smiles at you, “if that’s all will be back in a minute.”

You prick your fingers feeling his attention on you. “What?”

He swallows all the words he wanted to say, giving you a feeble, “nothing.”

Your phone vibrates causing the purse to clatter against the wooden surface. You ignore it thinking it might be Sunhee checking up on you. “So, how do you know Sunhee?” You have a lot of questions brewing in your chest but for now you settle for this. For now you will learn about things you can handle. 

Jeonghan folds his arms across his chest, “I heard of her. Hansol’s girlfriend?”

You nod. 

An affectionate smile curls his lips up, “that kid finally manned up, huh?” Seeing your confusion he chuckles scrunching his nose, “Hansol lives next to me.”

“You live here?” You reel back in your seat. Not in your wildest dreams did you expect Jeonghan to live in a measly town. “In Yangsan?” 

“Why? Is it hard to believe?” 

You don’t answer. You don’t even want to dare to think of the reason behind his move. Did he come to Yangsan because of you? 

“I travel to Seoul every other week.” He answers your unasked question, a knowing smirk on his face. “But I do live here most of the time.” He looks out the glass window, “I love Yangsan. It has a different air. You know what I mean?” 

The unasked question lingers at the table, between you and him. He looks at you expectantly wanting to hear it directly from you. A part of you is itching to ask, the part which didn’t die when he broke you apart and is dying to be with him again. 

You don’t ask him, flipping the menu your finger trails across the drinks section. Alcohol might help you in sitting for this long dinner. 

“You aren’t drinking.” He snatches the menu out of your hands and snaps it shut, setting it beside him. His arm reaches for you, he stops himself from touching your palm. “I’m sorry but I want you to be sober for this dinner. I want all of your attention on me. You can drink on our next date.” 

You scoff at his audacity, “what makes you even think there will be another date?” 

Jeonghan shrugs, “a feel.” 

The waiter appears again by your side setting the cutlery shooting a customer friendly smile. Jeonghan mumbles a thanks. He checks his phone, poking his cheek with his tongue, eyes sliding across the messages.  

“You are loved by many.” He sets his phone on the table, “I just got warned to be nice from Hansol. Tell me, how do you know him?” 

“My coworker? Isn’t it glaringly obvious that we work in the same company—”you realise“—unless you forgot.” 

Jeonghan frowns, “forget? I remember everything about you. Ask me something and I will walk out if I get it wrong.” 

You are stumped for words. Clinks of the forks against the porcelain plates fills the space between you two. Your brain is thrown into overworking, stimulated from all the conversations. What is he playing at? He is talking about the next date when the current date is already hanging by a thread. 

“I never got to ask Hansol where he worked.” He slices the silence with his sharp words, “knowing things were never kind enough to me in my life to have everything I wanted on a platter, I didn’t expect you to be so close.”

You blink at him, reanalysing the nooks and crooks of his words. Served on a platter? Did he really know that you moved here? Your parents learned that you moved after you got to Yangsan a week later. There will be no way he knows it before anyone, Seungkwan isn’t going to spill the beans, not especially to his mortal enemy. 

“I know everything,” he answers. “I didn’t want to know where you are residing at,” his voice cracks again, “I didn’t want to pry when you wanted space from me.

“I was hoping, if not desperate, for you to pop up at every street corner I take or the beach I spent almost all my time at. To just get a glimpse of you, and want to see you be happy with my own eyes. I’m happy that you are finally happy.” 

He is here. For you. For you. Your dead heart starts pounding as if you just ran a marathon, gasping for air, and his hand is clasping yours. Grounding you. His fingers press sharply into the back of your hand turning the skin white. He is mumbling some incoherent words, must be sweet ones because those words are lulling you. 

“Jeonghan.” You stabilize yourself this time quickly, not wanting to dwell longer on the what ifs and what have been. “It’s not fair. I told you. I told you I didn’t want you to know.” 

His dark eyes examine your features, the unease on his face fading once he makes sure you are okay. You weren’t but you aren’t gonna throw yourself in panic like you did on the blind date with him. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me?” He shakes his head, “that’s not it. I just want us to exist together. I am happy as long as I am next to you, boyfriend or not.” 

“You’ll be happy if I get another man?” 

His eyes flash. The storm in his eyes is brewing, distant, imagining you with someone else. His hold slackens for a second and he grips your hand like his life depends on it. Did he feel the same way when you sent him the pictures of your date? You don’t know what to believe anymore, his radio silence after your break up or this Jeonghan who is absolutely feral about a single thought. 

“Your food is here~” the waiter arrives carrying a tray. 

You attempt to loosen your hand in his vice grip. He holds onto your fingers in a desperate attempt. One look from you and he lets go. The waitress watches our exchange awkwardly. 

She serves a small portion of food onto your plate leaving you gawking at it in disbelief. The anger and the panic subsides, your hunger taking over your body, and these servings won’t ever be able to fill your stomach. You wait for the waitress to magically whip out the remaining portion of the food but she only smiles and leaves you again. Did you say you hate these fine dine restaurants yet? 

“Come on,” Jeonghan picks up the knife and fork, cutting the meat into bite size pieces for you. The bracelet on his hands shines under the light, the one you gifted him. “Try it,” he pushes a piece to you with expectant eyes. 

Your stomach flutters at his gesture. Damn you, Yoon Jeonghan. You follow his words, chewing on the food, the flavors burst out on your tongue, eyes fluttering close at the heavenly feeling. Alright you don’t exactly hate these restaurants. When you open your eyes Jeonghan is staring at you, his lips parted, and focus on your lips. You dab the juice on your lips, snapping him out of his daze. 

“Worth it, isn’t it?” He is occupied in slicing his food into smaller chunks. 

You cross your legs under the table, your foot nudging his leg. “Sorry,” you sit back, resting your leg to the side of his so you don’t touch him. “This is good and all but once you eat Halmae’s food you won’t eat anywhere else.” 

He chews on the food, his eyes never leaving yours. “Really? Where is it?” 

You poke another piece with your fork, “near my office. The perfect time to eat is when you are tired, sun is heavy and you just have to sit before the fan, and eat the first bite of her cold noodles. Heaven on earth.”

Jeonghan rests his chin on his propped up palm, “really? Should do it one day.” 

You don’t bite onto his open invite. You are still unsure on why you are dining with him. He chews on his food, a small smile on his lips watching the gears turning in your head. You tap your forefinger on the table contemplating what his end game is. Sitting with him on a date is you being selfish for a bit. You want to see him, have his attention on you. Only you. Throwing caution to the wind and all the repercussions can be dealt later, a future you’s problem. 

He didn’t know it was you Hansol set him up with. All these big talks about wanting you and still going on dates? It’s a Jeonghan move. Fresh after break up, coming out of five years of relation and he was going on dates after dates. It bruised your heart and also your self esteem. You have to question him, call him out on his actions not following his words. 

“You are thinking,” he sets his cutlery on the empty plate. “Ask me.” 

“Nothing.” You set your fork down. It turns out you are scaredy cat than you thought you were. “What are you doing in Yangsan? Working from home?” Last time when you checked his company doesn’t have branches or accommodate the option of working from home. 

“Not really.” 

He reads through the menu, his lower lip caught between his teeth. You lean back in your chair waiting for him to explain more only for him to divulge deeper into the menu. He isn’t going to expand more on his answer, uneasiness makes you restless in your seat. If he is dodging the questions something must have happened. You are terrified to find out, his answer can be from taking a leave or murdering someone, you never know with him. 

“It’s nothing horrible,” Jeonghan says, not averting his gaze from the menu, the frown line between his eyebrows makes you want to run a finger to soften his skin. You catch yourself before falling into the endless abyss of him. “I am in between jobs.”

“In between? What happened to your old one?” 

Jeonghan raises his hand signaling for a waiter. “Didn’t like it. Quit it.” He steals a quick glance at you, and talks with the waiter ordering more food. He is one hundred percent hiding something. 

It isn’t your place to ask, you say to yourself. Whatever he does with his life, if he rots away or one day gets found in a ditch, it’s not your place to question. But how can you not care? He is yours—was yours. Could be yours again. 

“Drop it, please.” Jeonghan says. “Tell me more about you, how’s your life here at Yangsan. Do you like it?” 

He is all eyes on you, hands clasped together, desperate to change the topic. You let it slide this time, he isn’t yours anymore to sort his messes. “I love Yangsan,” you answer, and the heaviness surrounding him lifts off at the change of topic. “I didn’t expect to fall in love with a place but you know how life works.” 

His smile is soft just like his smile. This is getting too much, the composure you have built till now is slowly chipping away at the ends, his soft smiles, and the loving gaze is reminding you of the days you tucked away in your heart. You want to stretch your hand, run it through him, hide yourself in his arms, and ask him how he really has been doing. But for now you say, “it took me some time to get used to the hospitality, they were so helpful—a little too helpful,” you chuckle, he does too and that sound does wonders to you, colors bursting everywhere, there it is your favorite sound. 

Jeonghan’s smile falters, noticing the shift in you, he remembers you guess, he remembers that his laugh is the only thing that kept you afloat. There were times when you were dying to listen to it again, feel it under your fingertips, and let the sound of it give you strength to keep going. You were in shambles thinking you aren’t gonna feel it anymore, but when it is here, before you, so near and yet so far, you settle to just listen to it, a stranger whose laughs you know intimately. 

Your phone buzzes in your purse, relentlessly, the messages going off. “Excuse me,” you check your device wondering who can possibly need you at this time of the day. Your breath gets stuck in your throat reading the caller id. Seungkwan. You look at Jeonghan who went rigid, glancing at your phone. 

Seungkwan will kill you if he knows what you are up to. If he realizes you are, even if it is for a few minutes, entertaining the idea of having Jeonghan back in your life, one way or the other, he would strangle you to death, or preach you to death on how amazing other men are compared to Jeonghan. Anyone but Jeonghan. 

For now, you let the call go to a missed call. You silence your phone and throw it back into your purse. Jeonghan breathes in deeply, dropping his head into his hands, running his hands through his hair. With a shake of his head to himself, he smiles. For now, you decide you want to think about yourself, prioritize what your heart says instead of other’s. Seungkwan will understand, hopefully. He would realize what Jeonghan has, what only you both have and why you can’t find it with anyone else. 

Neither of you address the elephant in the room, concentrating on the food the waiter has brought. Jeonghan dismisses her, and serves you the food in a way you prefer, remembering that you like to have your food bite-sized. He wordlessly sets your plate before you, and goes to cut the food for himself. 

Who will do all of this for you? No one, except the man before you. 

—

The valet brings Jeonghan’s car. He somehow got you to agree to let him drop you home. You watch Jeonghan as he converse with the valet, inhaling the subtle hints of his perfume, his warmth seeping into your side, an ache of want thrums in you, to feel his embrace. You step aside, maintaining distance before you do something you shouldn’t. 

“Come on,” Jeonghan’s arm hovers around your waist, not touching. He smiles down at you, opening the car door, you slid down into the seat. He bends over helping with your dress, once you are tucked in safely he closes the door. He runs across the car, his hair bouncing with each step, and he is next to you in a blink of an eye. “Address?”

You enter your address into the GPS. He connects his phone, the songs automatically playing. No one says a word, the uncertainty of the situation you guys are entangled in. Will you meet again? Or is this how it is going to end. A bitter taste spreads in your mouth at the idea of not seeing him again when he looks this good, and so fits perfectly in your life. But he left you. There’s no guarantee that he isn’t going to pull the same stunt twice. 

You sigh, resting your head on the window watching cars drive past you. Jeonghan glances at you but doesn’t comment on it. The thirty minute ride is extended to fifty minute ride with Jeonghan missing the turns. He rolls the car to a stop before your apartment observing your neighborhood. This is it. 

You unbuckle the seatbelt. Stop me, ask me to stay, ask me if we can meet again. He doesn’t, he wishes you good night and sleep well. You glance over your shoulder once at the entrance of your building, he is there sitting and waiting. With a dejected sigh you walk towards the stairs, tears sitting in your eyes. Your mind chanting his name, only his name. Yoon Jeonghan. Jeonghan. Jeonghan. Hannie. 

He is back in your life not more than a couple of hours and he is already messing with your head. You wipe the corner of your eyes as you search the keys in your purse. Your phone lights up, scared it is Seungkwan. You pluck out the device reading his name. 

See you soon.

-Hannie

—

Sunhee is at your neck on Monday, trailing behind you like a puppy with hundred questions shooting at you at rocket speed. You dodged most of them with evasive answers.

How was it?

Good.

How was he?

Good.

There's a second date on cards then?

Sunhee is relentless with her unanswered question, constantly at your desk under the ruse of some work when she wants to bug you. 

“Jeonghan is handsome,” she whispers, “Hansol showed me a picture of him last night, and god, isn’t he hot.” 

It's bait, she is dangling the hook at your face. You press your lips in a thin line, glaring at her boyfriend who is also eavesdropping at your conversation. You fold your arms across your chest, “you two, back to work.”

Sunhee clicks her tongue, throwing a dirty look at you. She picks up her papers from your desk and struts back to her desk, exchanging a look with her boyfriend. Hansol shrugs, mouthing words so fast it's hard for you to read. If they are still talking about the date, they didn’t catch the wind of your past, yet. A shudder passes through you imagining your future when they’ll get their hands on it. You are grateful that Jeonghan didn’t say anything to them. 

You check your phone thinking of him. You slept for two hours max, flipping and turning around your bed pondering and dissecting each and every second of the date. You enjoyed your time with him if you turn blind eye to a few things—things that will blow up in your face, but that’s not what you want to focus on now. His message is still sitting unanswered. He sent a good morning. 

You lock the phone when Sunhee is approaching you yet again with another set of papers. You groan, giving up. “Fine. Fine. I don’t know about the second date, we didn’t say anything about it.” 

Sunhee throws the papers back at her desk, rolling her chair next to you. “What do you mean by 'didn't talk’? You plan your next meeting and kiss goodbye, that’s how things work.” 

A coworker gives judgemental looks, overhearing Sunhee’s not so subtle voice while walking to his cubicle. 

“Great, why don’t you just announce it to the entire world to listen,” you hiss. 

Hansol stretches his arms, standing up stretches his body, picking up his cup he joins your little huddle. 

“Wow.” The couple isn’t going to let your ass go. “I think it’s high time for you two to work separately. Need to mail HR.” 

Sunhee rolls her eyes, “fine. I’ll let you off the hook.” 

Hansol scowls as if saying how could you. You glare at him. Sunhee doesn’t heed to him, adding, “only if you are coming for drinks after work, my home.” 

Hansol’s frown morphs into a proud smile. You are ready to throw your hands in the air. She beats you to it, dropping her strong voice to a tiny squeaky voice, “I wanted some time you know, I didn’t get to be with you this weekend—” you genuinely frown at her words “and you already know how much care I put in last time you got drunk.” She blinks her doe eyes at you. 

Drinks sounds good. Having your mind off of something or more like someone is what you need now. And it’s not everyday that you can drink as much as you want to. 

“You did.” You find yourself walking right into her trap, “but I can’t drink on a Monday. I am not young anymore and my body can’t get up tomorrow for the early meeting.”

Sunhee presses your hand, “I’m there for you. One drink and you won’t be touching any liquid, except water. Trust your knight.”

“But why this impromptu drinking session?” 

“To bond.” 

—

You should have realised then and there when you thought Sunhee reminded you of someone but couldn’t quite place your finger at. It’s unbelievable how many times you fall for the same tactic and sweet words to get sweetly manipulated to do something you were adamant on not doing. 

Sunhee and her long lost sibling (not really) sit opposite to you under the fluorescent light, both conversing about the game that happened last night. She is happily yapping away about the tactics the soccer team failed to implement, and her boyfriend is busily devouring the snacks, pitching in between their talk while you shoot daggers at her (she doesn’t even bat her eyes at you). 

“I can’t believe he took that shot when it’s clearly not gonna make it into the goalpost.” Jeonghan clicks his tongue, folding his arms across his chest. 

“That’s what I’m saying,” Sunhee slams her hand on the table, “they gave away a match, not the opposite team played cleverly.” She glares at her boyfriend who is a fan of the opposition team, you deduce. 

“That’s what losers say,” Hansol quips, and gets hit by a chicken leg on his face. He grabs a tissue from the box wiping away his face as if it's a very common thing to happen. 

Jeonghan’s proud smile at his long lost little sister makes your heart stutter. You grab the soju and pour yourself a drink while Jeonghan is busily supporting Sunhee and Hansol is slapping their statements with logical points. This is your chance. Before you can succeed with the plan, a hand holds your wrist stopping you from taking a oneshot. 

Jeonghan swiftly snatches the drink from your fingers. He sets the soju glass on the table, shaking his head subtly. He folds his hands across his chest, listening to the younger couple quarrel. 

You huff out, folding your arms across your chest. Jeonghan’s attention flickers to you, to your arms, and linger on your chest before he turns away with a clenched jaw. The top buttons of your shirt are undone, Hansol’s house feels like sitting on top of a volcano, and you aren’t a good functioning human being in heat, unbuttoning your shirt till you are still decent is the way you are coping. Until, you had to cross your arms, pressing into your chest, elevating them, higher than unnecessary. 

“I hate it when you get all detaily.” Sunhee throws her arms in the air. “You can’t even accept a loss, you sore loser.”

Hansol grins, resting his elbows on the table, clasping his hands, “detaily isn’t a standard english word,” he tilts his head, egging her more, “should I buy you a dictionary next time? Instead of lin—”

Sunhee throws the snack bowl onto his face, he catches the bowl but the contents fly all over the place. Sadly, you are also a victim. You brush off the food from your arms, shirt and you see a food particle on your chest, sliding slowly down. No, no, no. Before you can remove it, it already made its way down. Fuck, now you have to go use washroom, a man’s. Hansol’s home is somewhat tidy for a man’s standard so his washroom will be good, right? 

No one saw it, you tell yourself. The embarrassing moment is between you and yourself. The two lovebirds are still bickering, still teasing, the drinks Sunhee is having whenever Hansol’s quips aim at her are making her face flush. She should stop drinking at some point, she might not be a worse drinker like you but she is still a handful. Hansol is laughing at her pout, caressing her face, maybe she is Hansol’s handful. 

You stand up from the table, “Hansol, where is your–” 

Jeonghan is standing too, reaching for your hand, “come.” 

Hansol doesn’t even blink in your direction, too gone to care about anything except for the girl before him. Jeonghan is already leading you out of the house, bringing out the keys from his sweatpant pockets. “You can freshen up at my place,” he says while unlocking his home. 

“Jeonghan, there’s no need, Hansol’s place is right over there and I was already—”

He pushes the door open to a dark home. “You aren’t comfortable.” He switches on the lights. 

The flat is similar to Hansol’s except there isn't any furniture except for a bean bag. The kitchen countertop is empty, a takeout bag, a bowl and chopsticks sitting on it. Your heart aches seeing the emptiness of his home, the dimmer light from the bulbs make it more lonely and cold. 

Jeonghan stands next to an open door waiting for you. You enter a bedroom, a mattress on the floor and a bedside table. Your stomach twists at the sight. Why on earth is he living like this? 

“Let me know if you need anything.”

He closes the door behind him with a soft click. You walk across the bed, a picture frame catching your attention. You shouldn’t cross the boundary, if he has a photo frame in his bedroom, and not even a proper bed piques your interest. You hear cupboards opening and closing outside, you pick the frame as this is your chance.  

Your fingers shake seeing the picture, you set the frame back in its original position as you hurry into the bathroom. Washing your face with ice cold water you come out of the shock to see yourself in that photo. 

It’s a picture of you and Jeonghan, he is kissing your temple with his eyes closed as you grin at the camera taking a picture of you both. You two went on a hike after postponing it for months, and to commemorate your almost dying experience from all the climbing, you took a picture, all sweaty, tired but happy. 

The reflection of you stares back in the mirror, eyes moist, and cheeks warm from the heat. The summer is making your hair frizzy, making it hard to tame your hair. Dark circles under your eyes, and chapped lips, you look like a mess. You wipe your face off with a white towel neatly folded on one of the racks. There’s a faint hint of his body wash, he still didn’t change it. You remember picking it out for him. 

Everything reminds you of you even when there’s nothing much in his home. Just like yours does. Just like you. Sucking in a deep breath, you regain control of your thoughts, and remember why you are here in the first place. Untucking your shirt you dust off the snacks. You exit the bathroom, turning off the lights. Jeonghan is in the room, pausing mid way from sneaking out. He rubs his nape with a sheepish smile, “all done?”

You nod. He chats off about the snacks he has if you want some. On your way out of his room, you look at the photo frame once again. It is downturned now. 

By the time you go back to Hansol’s apartment the two are wasted, giggling and whispering. Jeonghan sighs beside you, checking the time on his phone. “It’s late, do you want to stay over?”

You gape at him. He clarifies, “like you and Sunhee can stay over here or mine while Hansol and I share the other, or however you want it to be.” 

Hansol’s arm is draped around Sunhee, nuzzling into her cheek, peppering kisses all over her face. 

“I don’t think they want to be apart for the night.” You grab your purse from the floor next to the table. “Next time if you invite me for drinks then let me drink.” 

Sunhee just giggles to herself. Hansol comes out of her neck, blinking at you. “If you drink, you’ll be calling someone else,” he shakes his head, “you can’t do that since—”

“I am leaving. See you in the office tomorrow.” You brush past Jeonghan without meeting his eyes. Fuck Hansol and his slippery mouth. 

The door doesn’t make the click sound behind you. Jeonghan slips out of the apartment in a hurry. “Let me drop you.” He catches you waiting for the elevator. “I’ll grab my keys and join you in a minute.” You try to cut him off but he beats you to it, “I don’t take no as an answer. At least for this.”

The resolution in his eyes makes you nod. Or the things you found in his apartment. The barriers are crumbling down one by one. This is the Jeonghan you knew. 

—

“Where’s your mind at?” Seungkwan glares at you from the screen. “I am here ranting about my sufferings and you don’t even bat your eyes at me. The distance made you heartless…”

A message pops up on top of the screen. You click on it in a heartbeat. 

Unasked opinion. Seoul is really boring.

-Hannie

The lines are longer. People are sticky and food isn’t half as delicious as Halmae’s. 

-Hannie

Seungkwan barking your name snaps you out of the little happy bubble. He exhales an exasperated sigh, “what’s up with you? What got you smiling like that?”

You frown, “like what?” You immediately close the message app. 

“Like you just won something.” He narrows his eyes, “is there a boy in your life?”

“You?” 

“That’s funny. Remind me to laugh tomorrow.” Seungkwan deadpans. “But, seriously, who is he?” 

A sweat droplet trickles down your temple, another message comes in. You could barely read the content before it disappears. Seungkwan is still patiently watching you, waiting for an answer. 

“I would have introduced him if I had someone new in my life.” Not exactly a lie but not the complete truth, you are playing at the cross borders. 

Whatever that's been going on between you and Jeonghan since a month, you want to keep it a secret. Neither of the two of your favourite colleagues are aware of your past with Jeonghan. It’s a non-verbal agreement you had with your ex, to keep the secrets under a rug. 

“Damn right you will,” Seungkwan says distractedly, looking to his side with a concerned look. 

You don’t want Seungkwan to know about your meetings with Jeonghan at Hansol’s place. The deeper the night gets the closer you two end up sitting watching the other two wreak havoc. It’s your little bubble, a happy one, for now. 

“Are you okay?” He asks his fiancé, leaving the phone on the bed and hugging her. “It’s not the end of the world.” 

Busy? 

-Hannie

You quickly type away a message in the gap of Seungkwan talking to his girl. 

On call with Seungkwan. 

-sent

The bubble pops up as he types and it disappears. It is up again but Seungkwan is back and you close the chat. 

“Uhm,” he hesitates, his girl also joined the call, her eyes red and puffy. 

“Why are you crying?” Your heart drops to your stomach, she hiccups, tears streaming down without a stop. “Hey, whatever it is, it’s going to be okay. Please, don’t cry.” 

Seungkwan wipes her tears, “it’s okay. You are breaking my heart, baby.” 

“What happened?” You ask in a whisper. 

Seungkwan sighs again, rubbing his face in exasperation. “Her best friend didn’t want to be Maid of honour. They have had some issues over the past few years, but we at least thought for the big event of our life she would be there.” 

Oh

-Hannie

You avert your eyes off of the cold message. Seungkwan is going on about how they tried contacting the supposed maid of honour only to get a cold shoulder. The wedding is in March, they want to do it when there’s flowers everywhere, blossoming. You gagged at the poetic Seungkwan not really used to that side of him. 

“I was thinking—” his fiance butts in Seungkwan’s rant “—if you and Seungkwan don’t mind, can you be my maid of honour?” 

Silence ensues at her words. Seungkwan is staring at her and you are blinking at them. “I mean I know you are his friend and all but you are also my closest friend and have seen all of me more than anyone else.” 

“I’m more than happy,” Seungkwan smiles fondly at his girl, “I just need my girls near me on my big day. I am down if she is.” 

They turn to you, faces squished together to fit onto the tiny screen. “Of course. I am more than happy to be a part of your wedding.” Tears sit on your eyes, you have seen them since they got together many years ago, sailed through countless fights, getting back together and now, finally, marrying. “Honestly, Seungkwan will be eating my brain all the time, so I would rather prefer being with you.”

“What?” Seungkwan barks. “It’s called being perfect. I would like to have my tie navy blue rather than egyptian blue. Thank you.”

—

The office cafeteria is empty as the time hits nine in the night. You are sitting at a lone table with your thoughts as the heaviness of your day weighs you down. The overtime has worn you down, and as if sleepless nights haven’t been enough your client has chosen to lash out on you for something that wasn’t an issue in the first place. Talk about having a bad day. 

Your stomach grumbles in protest of not having proper food for the entire day, and the usual busy stalls are closed as it is past the regular hours. Halmae’s restaurant must also be shut down by now, and you don’t have any energy left to go home and cook. Should you just quit your job and roll around?

What are you doing?

-Hannie

Dying?

-sent

Incoming call from Hannie

The call flusters you. You stare at your phone illuminating his name, and it's been so long since you got a call from him. You swipe the call before it goes into a missed call, pressing the phone to your ear hesitantly. “Hello?”

“What happened? Did you trip over air again?” The concern in his voice flips your stomach, and angers you at the same time. 

“I don’t trip over nothing, Mr. Yoon Jeonghan.” 

You can sense a frown forming on his face at your words, you just feel it in your bones. “Huh, do you remember the time you walked on a plain surface and ended up with bruises on both of your hands, knees, and elbows?”

Before you can defend yourself from the workings of invisible devils he goes on.

“You literally tripping over my foot is how we met. Don’t tell me you forgot that too.” 

“Who sleeps on the library floor? Not normal people.” 

He butts in, “—ah, ah, not the point.”

“If you are going to be annoying, end the call.” You pout, trailing your finger at the ends of the table. 

He inhales deeply, “alright. What happened?” 

The light above you flickers, insects crowding over the bright light. You huff, stretching your free arm and body, “long day.” 

He hums over the phone, a car door closing sound echoing into your ear. He is still in Seoul, missing all the gatherings Sunhee hosted over Hansol’s apartment. While leaving his apartment you often found yourself pausing before Jeonghan’s locked flat, lingering. 

The texts did suffice whatever you two are having right now, an uncertain label over your bond. Are you friends who know each other way too intimately or, you didn’t open the door to the other side of assumptions, still not ready. 

“Where are you?” 

You hear the headlights flick on his side. “Office. Have to book a cab now. But my fingers can barely move.” 

He scoffs, “dramatic.” 

“Only for—” you catch yourself before completing the sentence. It’s a banter you used to exchange while dating, he would call you dramatic and you would answer, only for you, and he would press a long kiss satisfied with your answer. 

You clear your throat. Jeonghan is silent except for a few car honks. “I miss Seoul.” You divert the topic, take it back to safe waters. “By the way, I am coming to Seoul next week.” 

“Oh.” He pauses for a second, “why?”

“You remember Seungkwan?” You bite your tongue at your own question. You officially lost your mind. 

He grunts. “Of course. How can I not?” 

The venom in his words causes goosebumps on your skin. Why do they hate each other and why do you have to be the middle person all the time taking hits from both sides.

“Jeonghan.” You reprimand him. “I already told you that—”

“He’s a brother you never had. Of fucking course I know.” 

You hold the bridge of your nose, temper raising at his words. The hunger also ignites your fire further. “Why do you hate him? He just wants what’s good for me.” 

“I’m scared. I'm scared you’ll push me away again because of him.” 

You are stunned to the core. The Jeonghan you know didn’t care for anyone or their opinions. To know he is scared of Seungkwan’s role in your life throws you off kilter. 

“I was shitting myself when he called during our date. Begging in my head to whoever that is listening to make you stay. I hate it when his one word can break us when you, in reality, don't want that.

“I fucking hate it and him. I am not saying to cut ties off with him. I’m no one to you,” his voice cracks, mumbling a feeble yet under breath. “If you want me out I’ll be out. I’m not going away because of someone else. Not this time.”

You let out a shaky breath. It’s too much. All of this. You don’t know where to start, should you point out that he called your meeting a date, or sit through a wednesday night sorting out the issues and act as a middleman. Seungkwan doesn’t hate you. He hates what you did to me. As if Jeonghan is going to sit prettily and nod to whatever you say. 

He sighs on the other side, the headlights of his car flickering again. “We will have this conversation when you are ready.” You blink at your phone at this new version of Jeonghan. He never lets go of an argument until he wins. He continues, “I’m sorry for bringing it up this soon. If you are done with your work, come outside.”

“What?”

“Come outside, baby.”

You stand up picking up your things, and rushing into your office packing up your bag in haste. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Seoul?” 

“I’m here now. God, it's chilly. Is it winter already?”

The pitter-patter of your heart takes up a marathon, pounding loud. He is here. You press the elevator button, tapping your heel while waiting for the slowest elevator of the planet to reach your floor. “It’s barely August, Jeonghan.” 

“Still chilly.” He grumbles on the other side of the phone. 

You enter the elevator pressing on the close door button incessantly. “Just say you are old. A mere wind is making you an ice cube. Is that what you are saying?”

“Ha. Ha. I’m not old. If you call me old again I have to kill you. No other way around.” 

“Should I bring you a cane, grandpa?” You snicker, getting out of the elevator. 

Jeonghan hums, “I’m not sure whether I prefer you calling me that,” you are out of the building, he pauses, “we agreed on something else.” 

Your phone starts making static noise from both of you being in the same vicinity. A tall handsome silhouette is waiting by the car, a hand inside his jean pocket and an oversized white tee. Your stomach does somersaults as he slowly comes into view. 

His bottom lip is caught between his teeth, a teasing smile ever present. His eyes trailing down you devouring all the details from your loose hair to the white office shirt to the pencil skirt. You swear you heard a grunt. You avert your eyes from his watchful ones, too shy to maintain contact. 

He ends the call once you are standing in front of him. You drop your gaze to your heels, black office heels against white sneakers. His white sneaker nudges against your heel. 

“Who do we have here? A runaway zombie from the apocalypse?” 

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” You hold your hands behind your back, his hair is fluffy, the long strands swaying with the wind. Your fingers itch to grab them and pull as you crash your lips against his. You clasp your hands tighter. “Grandpa.” 

He grins. “Again not the name we used while—“

You cup his mouth preventing him from airing your past in the public. He smiles against your palm as you glare at him. “Shut up.”

You drop your hand to your side, he shivers when a chilly breeze runs past you two. “Shall we go?” You ask. 

He takes your bag from your shoulder, opening the back door and placing your bag gently. He opens the passenger door for you, nudging his chin for you to sit. He closes the door and runs to the other side, slipping next to you into the driver seat. 

He grabs a paper bag from the back seat, sets it in your lap. The smell of your favourite burgers causes your stomach to growl. He pulls his seat belt to buckle it in, observing the happiness bloom on your face. You beam at him, wide eyed, a squeal escaping your lips, he laughs shaking his head. 

“Han–Jeonghan, you got me this from where? They close early!” You take out the wrapped burger, your entire body vibrating with happiness. An appreciative moan escapes you as soon as you take a bite. “Heaven.”

Jeonghan watches you devour the burger, “are you even eating these days?” 

You brush your hair off of your eyes with the back of your hands, careful to not get your sticky fingers on you. “Not much.” 

He sighs, he wipes the corner of your lips, licking the sauce off his thumb. “Eat your meals on time.” 

You blink at him, he fiddles with settings before rolling you two out of your office. He rests his arm on the window humming along to the song playing on the radio, turning the steering wheel with one hand. 

With some food in your system, the alerts in your body go off. What’s happening? He comes from Seoul, brings you your favourite food and gives you a ride home? All the while looking so hot with his nonchalance and at the same time taking care of you. 

He steals a glance at you from the corner of his eyes, his lips curling up in a smile. You turn to the last bite of burger in your hands, cheeks warm. 

He flicks the right turn signal, “steam is blowing off your head. What’s running?”

“Nothing.” 

“Don’t think too much. Let things be for what they are.” He takes another turn, you frown at the familiar road you usually take to reach your home on the opposite side. The maps on the GPS adjust to the new route, increasing the time of arrival. 

How can you not think about him if he does things like these? The ones you were begging from him before you guys broke up, attention and care. It’s not like you didn’t receive any care from others, but Jeonghan has always shown it in his ways, in the ways you truly wanted to be taken care of. As if he knows your language and speaks it fluently. Only him. 

“Why are you going to Seoul?” He breaks your chain of thoughts. 

“Ah,” you chew on the last bite, “maid of honour duties.”

“Maid of honour?” 

“Seungkwan is getting married.” You wipe your hands with the tissue present in the bag. 

“To..?” 

“His girlfriend, obviously.” Then it clicks. “Ah, they are still strong. Eighth or ninth year, and still going as hard as a rock.” 

He doesn’t utter any word, just drives in silence. Soon the road to your apartment comes into view, if you scroll the window down for a bit you are sure you are gonna hear the ocean waves. 

“Did you go to the beach?” You ask. 

“Yeah.” His answer sounds vague, distracted, his mind wandering somewhere. “Couple of times.” 

You hum. The building you live in comes into the view, this is it. The night comes to an end, he will drive away once you are in the building. But you don’t want to let go of him yet, not when the night has been so perfect like one of those dreams you don’t wanna wake up. 

The car comes to a stop before your building, only your apartment windows are dark, you can hear faint sounds of television from your neighbors. Jeonghan stares at the steering wheel, his head for sure lost in his thoughts. An urge ignites in you, burning away the cautious thoughts of how bad that idea is, how much you are repeating yourself, and the past. You want to ask if he wants to come up. 

Here you are, being needy again. You unbuckle your seatbelt, and grab your bag from the backseat. If you are starting to be needy, he is back to being himself, silent, elusive. It’s a sign from whoever looks over humans and their mistakes, how you’ll burn again if you indulge in these murky waters. 

One look at him, and his dark starry eyes looking back at you, your mouth is speaking on its own. “Do you wanna come up or something? I think I have the beer you drink. Or water. Definitely water.”

Before you realize you two are taking stairs. He is following behind you, observing your neighbor coming out of their flat at the sound of your voice, greeting you but stopping midway noticing a man hovering over you. Great, she got the content for a month long gossip. You lead him immediately to your flat, unlock the door with sweaty hands, and pull him in before she gets more details from him other than his name. 

“I’m sorry,” you raise your hands in apology. “Told you, Yangsan has overbearing but friendly neighbors.” 

He chuckles, a grin never leaving his face once he is in the confines of your safe space. You take your bag from his shoulder, disappearing into your room to set it in its designated place. He is still standing near the entrance under the automatic orange soft light, you usher him in. He leaves his shoes neatly beside yours, pausing for a moment and taking in the sight. You understand why it takes him long enough, it's been so long since you two shared a space, private space. 

He meanders around studying your not so minimalistic living room, coffee table, a shelf covered in decorative items, a lone couch with way too many pillows and a tv. The doors to your balcony rattling, the sound of strong breeze fills in the space, he leaves the book he picked up from the coffee table, looking over his shoulder to you, his hands ready to draw the curtains at your approval. You nod. 

The soft breeze hits you once the door is slid open, the chimes you hung up tinkling along with the sway of the wind. Jeonghan shoves his hands in his pockets, stepping outside. The therapeutic sound of waves is smoothing your insides, luring you out along with him. Jeonghan leans against the railings, watching the sea sparkling under the moon. 

“It’s perfect.” He mutters under his breath, he turns to you, “Perfect.”

“I know right.” You go back into the living room, the coldness starting to get you. “I had a lot of issues with this flat but when I open the balcony door, everything feels perfect.” He is looming over the door, “like this is where I truly belong.”

Jeonghan closes the door behind him, lingering a minute more before drawing the curtains shut. He picks up the book again, and thumbs through the pages. 

You peer from the kitchen, “water?” He shakes his head. “Beer?” 

“Don’t you work tomorrow?” 

“I do. But I’m not the one drinking.”

“Get me one.” He settles down on the carpet, staring at the black cat knit hung on the wall along with other cute knits. “This is so you.”

You set the bottle in front of him, and sit on the opposite side of the small coffee table. You got the table for this sole purpose, you spent more time sitting on the carpet instead of the couch. This short coffee table was your dinner companion. 

“What’s so me?”

“Everything in this flat.” He watches you squirm uncomfortably. “Go and change into comfortable clothes. I’ll wait.” 

With a sheepish smile you scurry inside to freshen up and change out of the tight fitting pencil skirt into your comfortable loose tee and shorts. 

True to his word Jeonghan has been waiting for you, killing time by scrolling on his phone. He locks his phone once he sees you walk out of the room. With a gentle smile on his lips, he waits for you to settle on the other side of the table. On purpose you chose to maintain the distance from him, wanting to spend time with him is one thing, and crossing the already blurry line between you two is not something you are ready for, yet. 

“How’s the beer?” You ask, sipping on your own orange juice. 

He mimics you, taking a long drag of the beer, “good.” He leans back, resting his weight on his two palms. “Did you know that the beer tastes different based on the company you are with.” 

You roll your eyes. “Typical.”

“What?” He grins, “it's true. Do you want to try?”

You fake gasp, “are you letting me drink, Jeonghan? Are you able to handle the wild side of me?” You give him a glance over, “I’m not sure with all that old age.” 

“Try me.” 

He pushes the bottle towards you. You grab it taking a small sip, followed by a big one. It’s sweet and bitter at the same time. He snatches the bottle from your hands before you can take another sip to determine if it's sweeter or bitter. 

“Enough.” He drinks a few more sips, “how’s mom and dad doing?”

“Good. They are on their own thing.” You add hesitantly, “they ask about you. Sometimes.” 

He hums, chasing the condensation on the bottle, trailing behind a water droplet. You continue, “You know how it gets with parents. Stubborn, and my Dad won’t believe his prospective son-in-law is just a dream now.” You should stop, and shut your mouth, “but now he is good. He is even looking for a son-in-law.”

Jeonghan just drinks his beer, the smile on his lips dropping. “Is he now?” 

You hum. “His phone calls are mostly about a friend’s son or what the neighbor’s son is achieving and how at a small age he is doing wonders.” You lean in, cupping your mouth, whispering, “do you wanna know a secret?” 

“How much did you drink?” He huffs. “Are you always this lightweight?” 

You snatch the bottle from him and take the last sip. “Do you wanna know the secret or not?” 

He narrows his eyes but complies, leaning his ear to your mouth. 

“I stopped taking his calls. He did call me this evening but,” you scream, “no. I’m not talking about some X Y Z when I have you next to me.” 

Jeonghan blinks at you, stunned. “Yo-You can’t say things like that.” He opens his mouth and closes it, tips over the empty bottle only to get nothing. “Shit.” 

“It's empty, silly.” You stand up to get another beer for him. If he asks why you stocked up on beer when you don’t even drink, and especially why the brand he drinks, you don’t have an answer. 

He is behind you, when you shut the freezer. He takes it from you and opens the lid with a fork. He grabs your hand leading you to the table, stops you from going to the other end. 

Damn those sparkly eyes looking at you. He scoots a little, giving you space to sit next to him. “I have to talk to him soon,” he says once you settle down. 

“Why?”

You take a gulp of the beer, orange juice long forgotten. 

“His favourite prospective son-in-law is back. That’s why.” He takes the bottle from your hand, his fingers lingering. “Can't take risks.”

“Ah.” You nod, and nod, and nod. 

He chuckles. “Did I ever tell you how fucking cute you are?” 

“No?” You grab his shoulder, leaning into him, whispering in his ear. “You are not my father’s son-in-law. I don’t have a boyfriend.” 

“Yeah,” he bites his lip, resting his elbow on the couch, leaning his cheek into his palm. “Not for a long time.” 

You drown yourself with beer, and perhaps gain liquid courage for holding the conversation with him. “Did your parents ask about me?” You know the answer and yet you ask it anyway, “at least once?”

Jeonghan drops his gaze to his lap. You got your answer. Your mouth sours with the realization, a bitter chuckle escaping you, “I couldn’t impress the entire Yoon family. Not his son, not his parents.” 

“Look at me. Please.” 

You do, the silver chain around his neck catching your eye. 

“You have me under your fingertips. And if my absentee parents have any issue then it’s their problem to solve.” He nudges your chin up with two fingers, “I don’t know about you but for me this is the end game.” 

You set the bottle between you two, your knee nudging into his thigh, his hand resting on the couch, his fingertips brushing your arm. The chain catches your attention again, safely hidden under his tee. The liquid courage makes you take a brave step, you pull the chain out of his tee, the long chain coming out with a promise ring hanging. Your promise ring. 

“Liar.” You tug on his chain, he comes closer. “Lies.”

He licks his parted lips, gaze hooked on yours’. “I’m not lying. Give me a chance. Give us a chance.” 

You shake your head, “I’m scared. You will find me a bother one day and just leave. You did it once and there’s no guarantee that you won’t do it again.” 

He wipes your wet cheeks with his thumb. “Won’t happen again. Never. I can’t,” he breaks, “function without you. You don’t know the person I became, I can’t do this life without you.” 

Your own lips part mirroring his, he licks his lips, his warm breath hitting your face. The chain in your hand presses into your skin as you hold it like it’s your lifeline. His free hand rests on top of your thigh, groaning at the soft skin under his fingers. 

“Liar.” You still don’t believe his words. You have seen his dates after the break up, so pretty, so docile and so not you. Why would he want to settle with you if he could get girls that can run for modeling. 

His nails dig into your thighs, a growl from his lips. “How can I make you believe me?” 

You look into his dark eyes, dark like a midnight sea, dangerous, luring you right into its trap. He leans in momentarily, lips brushing yours. You grab his shirt, longing hitting you like a truck. 

“I’m gonna give you one chance.” Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

“I’ll take it. Whatever you are willing to give, I’ll take it.” 

You nod. “Let’s take it slow.” 

“Yeah..” 

“Yeah.” 

You let go of his shirt. He nudges his nose into yours, before pulling away, distancing himself from you. He pulls his knees to his chest, hiding his face into his knees and groans, “go.” 

You couldn’t hear him properly from his voice getting muffled. “What?” 

“Go to sleep.” He looks up from his legs, “and lock your door.” 

“Oh.” You pick up the empty bottles, and discard them all the while not looking at the man in your living room. “I’ll bring you a blanket.” 

You return from your room with a blanket and a yellow pillow. He grins, taking them from you, “my pillow.”

“Good night, Hannie.” You blush, digging your toes into the floor. 

“Good night, baby.” 

—

The pounding in your head wakes you up from the deep slumber, blinking your eyes to the ceiling, you grab your phone to turn off the alarm. The sound of chair scraping across the wooden floor has you sitting up, clutching your head. Fuck, shit. He is still in your home, his footsteps echoing your silent apartment, sounding too close as if he is pacing before your door. 

Previous night you took a step in your relationship with him, maybe under slight alcohol influence, but you are sticking to it, until Jeonghan does too. A quiet groan slips through your closed door, the footsteps hurrying. You frown glancing at the wooden door, his shadow moving beneath the strip of light seeping through the underside of the door. Is he nervous?

The thought excites you more than it should. The Yoon Jeonghan, who enjoys making your life a hell with his teasing, nonchalance where you will be dying on the other hand. How the roles got reversed. Your phone vibrates with incoming texts from your parents, swiping them away to answer later, you pad across your room to the door, and attach your ear to it. The other side of the door is silent, he must have heard you. You smile to yourself, happiness blooming inside you for several reasons, he is finally in your life again, yet you aren’t sure if he is officially your boyfriend or not, and he is in your apartment, just like old times where he used to crash in your spare room. 

You open the door softly, your heart pounding in your throat. Jeonghan sucks in a deep breath, slowly coming towards you. His lower lip is caught between his teeth, his gaze taking in your morning glory—you realise, your bed hair, the oversized shirt falling to one side, baring your shoulder. With a gasp you try to shut the door to tidy yourself, at least look like a human. He stops the door with his hand, shaking his head subtly. 

“It’s me.” Is all he says, and your stomach twists, pleasantly, deciphering his words. It’s me, your Hannie, who has seen you in worse conditions, and it’s me, with whom you can be however you want. 

You cover your face, groaning into your hands. He chuckles, and your ears twitch hearing your favorite sound, his morning voice, and those deep chuckles. You lean against the door frame, he steps in closer, prying your hands off your face, you stare at his chest, wondering if you can just bury yourself in his arms. 

“Had good sleep?” His fingers run through your hair making your eyes flutter shut. “Hm?”

You hum in reply. 

“I want to ask you,” he says, and you know where he is going, “you remember last night, right?”

You nod. He lets out a sigh, “we are..” 

You look at his face now, and, boy, doesn’t he look wonderful. His bed hair, not as bad as yours, sticks up here and there, his watchful eyes stirring your heart, and those lips which used to haunt you in your dreams, part slowly. The mole on his cheek looks so kissable, you tug onto his shirt end, holding it for your life. He holds the side of your face, leaning in. You hold your breath in anticipation, clutching onto his other arm. 

Your phone rings, startling you both. He leans away, swearing under his breath. You dash into your room to see who is calling you, your mom. You show him the phone, and the disappointment in his face causes you to laugh. He walks away to your washroom with his head hanging low. 

Both of you sit in silence, eating the toasted bread and scrambled eggs. The scrapes of spoon across the ceramic fills the living room, Jeonghan watches the sky through the glass balcony doors. You scarf the breakfast down, hurrying across the apartment to get your things as you are already running late. 

Jeonghan picks up both of your plates, washing them. You mumble a sorry as you stuff your notebooks and stationery into your bag, along with chargers. Jeonghan grabs his car keys, putting on his shoes. 

You stand next to him, slipping on your office shoes, finally taking a breather. Before you hurry outside, Jeonghan holds your wrist. Confused, you turn around, “what’s wrong?”

He tugs you closer to him, bending down to your height, “good luck today.” He chuckles, his thumb brushing over your pink cheeks, “we are taking this slow?” There's a hint of disappointment in his tone. 

You give a feeble nod, your restraint already hanging on loose thread. You want to take your own time, get back into his life, and let him back into yours slowly, but with each minute spent alone with him is hard. 

He nudges his nose with yours, pressing a kiss onto your cheek. “Let’s go, you are already late.” He opens the door for you, waiting. 

The sensation of his warm lips still linger on your cheek, as you stand rooted in your place unable to move your limbs. He tugs you along with him, dropping you to your office, and leaving with a promise of seeing you tonight. 

—

“Why are we always hanging out in my apartment?” Hansol frowns at the three sprawling on the floor in his living room on Thursday night. 

Sunhee rolls over on her tummy, “because you have snacks.” She gives him a gummy smile when he narrows his eyes at her. 

You gaze at his pristine white ceiling, “because you guys literally drag me here.” 

Sunhee scoots to your side, resting her head on your shoulder, “that’s because you’ll be cooped in that house if not for us.” 

Hansol agrees. “One week we left you alone and you didn’t step out except for the office.”

Jeonghan clears his throat, humming a song under his breath. You glare at him, the reason for you staying home. His lips curve into a grin feeling your gaze on him. 

“When are you leaving for Seoul?” Sunhee cuddles into you. “Take me too.” 

Jeonghan sits up, watching you two cozying up, the playful smile slipping off. Oh no. 

Hansol calls from the kitchen, “ice cream anyone?” 

You all echo in unison, “me.”

Sunhee giggles, wrapping her hand around your waist and chatting away about the club in Seoul she heard from her friends. Jeonghan’s watchful eyes on Sunhee’s hand around your waist, and your slightly ridden up shirt. Your eyes meet his, warning him not to do anything stupid. Your relation with him is kept under wraps on your request, you don't want to reveal anything until things between you two solidify, and, in a small corner of your mind, you aren’t still in terms of accepting the fact that you rekindled with your ex. Still scared of the fact that all this dream might shatter once if he finds you too much again. 

“Promise me that at least you will go out and have fun.” Sunhee is shaking you both, almost lying on top of you. Her boyfriend calls for help in carrying the bowls, and you send a pleasing look at your man, who stands up with a clenched jaw and disappears into the kitchen. 

Since you got back together, Jeonghan has been different, a little more in your space, attached to your hip, almost needy. He picks you up and drops you off at your office, spends the nights in your apartment, watching movies, lying side by side chatting up missed updates in both of your lifes. If you think back to last week you can barely recall a moment without Jeonghan. And now, he is acting like a possessive man over just a female friend. 

“Your phone is buzzing relentlessly,” Sunhee rolls off of you, plucking the phone beneath her, “Hannie?!”

You freeze in your spot as if you got dumped by a bucket of ice. What the fuck is he thinking texting you? 

“Hannie?” Hansol peeks from the kitchen, “the same Hannie we are thinking?” 

You grab your phone from Sunhee, hiding it behind you, letting out a defensive, “no.”

Sunhee is suddenly in your face, whispering, “you can’t text your ex, that’s like number one rule in ‘how to get over your ex 101’.” 

“I never said he is my ex.” 

She rolls her eyes, “please.” 

“Remember the night when you thought she was calling me?” Hansol hands her girlfriend a bowl, settling beside her, not one single sense of his surroundings. “You were pissed. But, in a way it helped in talking out our feelings.” 

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow, giving you your bowl of ice cream, sitting so close to you, his thigh pressing into yours. “Oh, what happened?” He asks, casually, poking his scoop of chocolate ice cream with a spoon. 

“Hansol!” You squeak, trying to stop him. Jeonghan presses his knee into your leg. 

“What?” He blinks. Sunhee shoves a spoon into his mouth, successfully diverting his mind. 

You and Jeonghan have your ice cream, listening to the younger two chat. He knows it's about him, he has to. He is anything but stupid. Hansol and his loud mouth. When you sneak a glance at the man beside you, gone the annoying mood and now sporting a smile. He fucking knows. He catches your eye, sucking his spoon down his lips, you groan. He isn’t going to leave you alone until he gets the details. 

Hansol calls your name. “I thought you were interested in Jeonghan hyung.” He snaps his finger, “you know what Jeonghan hyung is also a Hannie.” Sunhee smacks his head telling him to shut his mouth and eat his ice cream. 

Is it possible to just dig your grave here, and lie there peacefully? Is it too soon? Jeonghan opens his mouth. Probably too late. 

“I’m not sure,” he hums, “from what I pieced together, Hannie must be an ex. I’m a little sad,” he bats his puppy eyes at you, “I was thinking we are going somewhere.” He sighs, turning to Hansol, “What exactly happened that night? How did you two get together?”

This ass, under pretense of knowing their story he is dragging the information he is dying to know. Wanting to keep this relationship a secret is coming to bite you back. 

“We were having a team dinner, and she lied that she could hold her liquor,” Hansol shakes his head in disappointment, “you don’t know how she gets once the alcohol kicks in.” 

Jeonghan coughs, covering his laughter. 

“Had to drag her out and throw her,” Sunhee hits his thigh, “put her to bed. She was mumbling all the way about how her Hannie will like Yangsan and just chants his name. Sunhee thought it was me she was calling, and glared at me like I just killed her favorite dog.”

“I like cats, Hansol, how many times should I tell you this?” 

“I still remember the date,” he hurries, pacifying his girlfriend before she can blow up on how he forgets everything. “October fourth. See, I do remember everything.” 

Jeonghan whips his head to you hearing the words. You stand up from your spot, excusing yourself to the kitchen. You ignore the desperate attempts of Jeonghan trying to talk with you. You can’t face him, in your raw emotions, after he knows how fucked up you were in his absence. 

Everything is sorted now, you got back with Jeonghan, but you find yourself in constant anxieties over the future and past pain haunting you during weak moments. Jeonghan is too good for you, he could easily find someone better, and leave you. 

The hot water from the tap burns your skin, hissing you flip the tap to cold setting. Washing the bowl absentminded. 

“Baby,” Jeonghan is by your side. 

“Go away, Jeonghan.” He winces at the use of his name. “They are literally two feet away.” 

“Look at me, please.” He turns you by your chin. “Oh,” he pulls you into his chest, cradling you, you cry into his chest, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He rubs your back. 

“Hate you, Jeonghan.” You wrap your arm around his waist, soapy hands and all. “For everything you put me through.” 

“I’m sorry.” He kisses your head. “I’m sorry.”

Someone clears their throat. You suck in your breath, here goes nothing. Jeonghan sighs, giving you one more kiss on your head before turning to the person standing at the kitchen entrance. 

His hand is around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You partially hide behind him. 

“Two of you, living room, now.” Sunhee walks away. 

“I told you.” You grumble into his arm. 

“Sorry.” 

Jeonghan intertwines your hands leading you to the living room, sitting before the couple who has their arms crossed across their chest. 

“Spill.” Sunhee looks at you two with hawk eyes. Hansol just blinks with a frown. 

“I’m the Hannie.” Jeonghan rubs his nape, smiling sheepishly. 

“What?!” Sunhee screeches, “what?” She aims the question to you. 

“It’s a long story,” you mumble, “he was my ex, he is.. Hannie, and we are sort of seeing each other.” 

Jeonghan frowns at you, at your uncertain labelling of your current relationship. 

Sunhee’s jaw is on the floor. Hansol whistles, clearly enjoying the plot twist. “Fate,” he says, after a minute when no one speaks. “Hyung being my neighbor, blind date and now this.” 

“If that’s what it is, yeah, fate.” Jeonghan holds your hand, his thumb drawing circles, “few things are meant to be, I guess.”

“What ex?” Sunhee recovers from her shock, “I thought you were dating behind my back but this,” she waves her hands at you two, “is something else. Like one of the plot twists in Hansol’s movies.”

You shrug, “it’s just life.” 

“If you are Hannie,” the glitter in her eyes has you pouncing on her to stop whatever she’s going to say. She effortlessly tosses you aside, “she also said her Hannie is as pretty as rain.” 

You groan into your hands, regretting every decision of being friends with her. 

“Did she now,” he chuckles, grabbing you by your waist making you sit on his lap. “What else did she do?” 

You struggle out of his hold, he grunts pressing you down, “it’s been too long, baby.” 

With a huff you don’t squirm anymore. Sunhee is squealing on the other side, hitting Hansol’s shoulder. You hide in his neck, “Is this all your plan, Jeonghan?” 

He grins, “not really. But I’m happy.” 

You shift in his lap, he peers down at you, you whisper, “I can feel it.” 

—

“Oh, too bright, is it the sun here?” Seungkwan shields his eyes as soon as curtains draw open revealing Nari in a wedding gown. 

You sit down on your knees taking pictures from every angle. “Beautiful.” You take some more pictures, your camera roll filled with Nari in different gowns and Seungkwan bawling at every single one. You are going to have fun with his pictures. 

Once Seungkwan calms down, and decides on the dress, it’s already evening. Your stomach is growling, and Seungkwan is still stuck in his dream world called Nari. Lounging on the sofa you wait for them to finish up. 

Done yet? 

-Hannie

Nope. They are ringing up

-sent

He’s cmg. Don’t text. 

-sent 

Seungkwan discards the crumpled up tissue, his puffy eyes staring at the ceiling as Nari says something in his ear. “It’s going to be fine.” He mumbles back, waiting before you to join them. 

“I’m hungry.” You rub your stomach, “please tell me we are eating before checking off other tasks.”

“We are, we are.” Seungkwan reassures, “how’s Yangsan? Still beautiful?” 

You remember your days with Jeonghan, Sunhee and Hansol, the nights spent in Hansol’s apartment scarfing down his snacks, Sunhee’s antics, and Jeonghan. Yangsan has given you the best memories, along with your lover who is patiently waiting for you in Seoul. He tagged along with lame excuse of forgetting whether he turned off the light in his apartment before leaving. 

“Still beautiful.” You smile to yourself, “you will love Sunhee and Hansol.” 

“I think so too,” he affirms, opening the car door for Nari. “I can’t wait to meet them.” 

You slip into the backseat, your phone vibrating in your hand. Nari looks at you through the rearview mirror hearing the vibration going off. Seungkwan starts driving you both to a restaurant listing off the tasks that need to be done in the next two days.

“Cake.” Seungkwan stops at a red light, reaching out to his fiancé's hand, “we need to decide on the flavours and inform them. Or else we will lose our spot.” 

You check the messages once your friends are in their world. 

Upon thinking, I don’t see the need for not texting you. 

-Hannie

What if your friends are there and see my messages? 

-Hannie

Are you embarrassed of me baby? I understand the need for you to keep us a private but I don’t want to hide us away. 

-Hannie

Am I your dirty little secret, baby? 

-Hannie

Jeonghan isn’t happy with stashing him away from the public. Hansol and Sunhee got to know about you two by chance, mostly due to Jeonghan’s nature of can’t keep his hands off you. If you weren’t standing in the kitchen crying over him, and he didn’t cradle you, no one would have known. You aren’t keeping him away because you are embarrassed, you are keeping him away because of the insecurities bubbling in your chest, and don’t want any other person to ruin this relationship which just survived the war. It’s delicate, and you can’t lose him again. 

Seungkwan calls your name, snapping you out of your reverie. 

“Huh? What was that again?” You lock your phone without sending any reply. Talking over text might create more misunderstanding of your feelings and it can turn out worse. You need to see him, hold him while you explain your feelings. 

Seungkwan looks at you through the rear view mirror suspiciously. He doesn’t comment on it, “Please tell Nari to choose anything else and not Vanilla.” 

“It’s her wedding. She has the right to choose whatever she wants.” 

Nari high-fives you, grinning smugly at Seungkwan. “I know I could count on you.”

“Anytime.” Your attention flickers to your phone screen lighting up, but this time it's a mail notification. Jeonghan should be at his home, waiting for you. 

Seungkwan parks the car near a restaurant going off on how it is his wedding too, and he has equal rights. Nari whispers into his ear once everyone gets out of the car, and trudges towards the busy restaurant. Seungkwan calms down, mumbling under his breath, and halfway in agreeing to the Vanilla cake. 

Jeonghan didn’t text you again. You pocket your phone, sighing to yourself. How can you resolve this? Two equally important persons in your life, and they hate each other with their life. Seungkwan is happily pulling a chair for Nari, chattering away about his sisters visiting soon. He is happy, it's the time of his life, a big moment looming around the corner. Telling him about the reconciliation with Jeonghan will visibly make him pissed. Jeonghan doesn’t understand the need to keep it a secret until his wedding. Maybe he doesn’t understand how you can’t face the confrontation, scared of disappointing him, and others again. 

“So,” Seungkwan puts down the menu after ordering the dinner, watching you stare at your phone for the hundredth time that night. “Any sexy man you hid in your sweet little town.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. 

First, you feel like barfing at his ridiculous expression, and second, you tread his question carefully, feigning an irritated look and throwing crumpled tissue onto his face. 

“Shut up.” You turn to Nari, “so how’s the jitters like? Date is approaching soon. If you ever get cold feet and want to leave this idiot, you know my number.”

Nari winks at you. Seungkwan throws a tissue onto your face, “stop putting ideas into her mind.”

You fold a fresh tissue into a random shape, “what do we have tomorrow? Done with the decorations, and the dress. I think we have to talk with the bakery chef.”

Seungkwan agrees. “Yeah, pretty much it.” After a beat he adds, “We need to have best friends only time, you know, catch up and all, without all this stress.” 

“Spending time with you is stressful to me.” You make room for the waiter to place your order on the table, “I don’t think we need to specifically set a time for it.”

“Right here,” he points at his heart, “hurts right here.” 

Nari and you chuckle at his antics. Your mouth waters looking at the hot food waiting for you to devour. “That’s the target.” You pick up your cutlery ready to dig in. “I still can’t believe someone is willing to marry you.” 

Nari hums in agreement. “Do you think I am influenced by dark magic?”

Your body comes alive as soon as the flavours burst out on your tongue, “heaven.” You recollect yourself answering, “it is a possibility. Who would want to be with someone dictating your life.” 

“Wow.” Seungkwan drops his chopsticks, “just wow. I really hate you two right now.” 

You stick your tongue out at him. Nari pacifies him with pats on his shoulder. Watching them makes you miss Jeonghan, how nice it would be to have him next to you, and spend time with your other favourite people on earth. 

Seungkwan answers his ringing phone, his pleasantness morphing into frown and finally settling on to horror listening to whoever is on the other side. “Why are you early?” 

“What happened?” Nari whispers. 

“I’m coming. I’m coming.” He stands up, his food untouched. “God, give me time to at least drive.” He cuts the call, “I am so sorry. We have to leave now. My sisters are here and already creating havoc. I need to go and put off the flames.” Nari sighs accompanying him, apologizing to you. 

“Let’s meet tomorrow afternoon in the bakery.” Seungkwan says, “and the bill is on me. I am so sorry for leaving abruptly.” 

“Tell your sisters that I said hi.” You wave them off, “and give me all the deets later, I’ll bring popcorn.” 

— 

The key digs into your skin, you glance at the keyhole, wondering if you can just go in. He did give you the spare key this morning for that purpose. You knock on the door. 

Door swings open, a confused Jeonghan peeking through the small gap, seeing you standing on the other side, he lets you in. You curl your hair behind your ear, taking timid steps into his home. It isn’t that different from his Yangsan apartment, a table, and a couch is extra in this lonely, cold apartment. 

“Did you forget the key?” Jeonghan stands behind you, holding his waist. “I remember giving you one.” 

You show him the key, he presses his lips into a thin line. “I couldn’t just, I don’t know Jeonghan.” 

He studies you, “I mean,” he takes a step, you take one back, the wicked gleam is back in his eyes, “you should slip in stealthily, before someone sees you.” He whispers in your ear, his lips brushing, “as I’m your dirty little secret.” He nips at your ear. 

You grab onto his oversized tee steadying yourself. “You aren’t.” Your voice is feeble even to your ears. Jeonghan traces his lips from your ear to your cheek, pressing a wet kiss. “Hannie.”

“Now I’m Hannie again.” He smiles bittersweetly, “I’ll wait. It’s hard but I'll wait until you are comfortable.” He rests his forehead against yours, staying there for few minutes. “But it’s so hard, baby.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

He kisses on your nose, “don’t be. I deserved it.” He pulls away, “how was your dinner? It ended earlier than I thought.”

He slips away from you into the kitchen. You follow him, noticing the sad tilt to his lips. “Hannie, you aren’t my dirty little secret.” 

He places a pot on the stove filling it with water. You rush to his side, sticking close to him, “I mean you are kind of my dirty little,” he glares at you, you explain, “the stuff we do isn’t family friendly, Yoon Jeonghan. Do I have to remind you the times you had me,” you blush at the endless memories of him bending you over and, you clear your throat. “Anyhow, all I want to say is,” you cling to his arm, “I’m staying quiet because we finally got back together.

“I don’t want anyone else’s opinion infiltrating our relationship. I want to enjoy this small bubble just by ourselves until we are stable and happy, and then we can let the world know.” You wait for his response with bated breath. 

Jeonghan adds the ramen to the water, swirling the noodles, “Seungkwan will have opinions, you don’t want him to interfere our relation,” he crosses his arms across his chest, he sighs, “take your time, baby, I don’t want him anywhere near us too.” 

You frown, “that’s not what I meant to be precise. I want him around but just not in my love life.” 

“Same thing.” He clicks his tongue. “I’m okay with it but just don’t completely shove me away.” 

“Never.” You cross your heart. 

He laughs, pinching your cheek. “That’s my girl.” 

—

The bakery Seungkwan has suggested is one for aesthetics. Strings of lights twirl across the walls like a creeper, the name of the bakery bright against the pastel pink wall. You find yourself a seat at one of the empty tables, shooting a text to Seungkwan saying you have reached and he is never on time. 

Jeonghan sends you an image, a polo shirt and another image pops up on your phone, same shirt but in gray color. He tagged along with you, dropping you off at the cafe and passing time at the stores nearby. You choose the gray one, only for him to say not choosing that :p. This man. 

Someone calls your name softly, you startle, seeing a stranger’s face right next to yours. He cringes at himself, standing up straight, holding up his arms, an easy grin on his face. He drags the chair across you, making himself home. 

The chat with Jeonghan goes up and up with incoming pictures. You lock your phone before checking around the bakery waiting for someone to come up with a camera or anything. There’s no way a complete stranger knows your name and is staring at you like you just cured whatever he is going through. 

“Uhm, who..?” You ask. 

He smiles, leaning in, clasping his hands on the table. “Mingyu. Seungkwan must have shared some info with you.” 

Chills pass down your body, goosebumps eliciting on your arms. Fuck. You desperately hope it’s not something you are thinking of. Seungkwan didn’t pull this stunt on you. 

“You are Seungkwan’s friend right?” The easy smile slips off his face watching you frozen in your seat. “I’m sure it’s your images he sent.” 

Seungkwan message illuminates your phone screen, Enjoy your date! 

Fuck the wedding he is going to get strangled tonight. He tricked you into a blind date, and has the audacity to bail on you. You click on his message, Jeonghan sends another picture along with a hundred question marks. 

Mingyu softly calls your name. Everything over stimulates your senses all at once.

What blind date???? I’m going to kill you Seungkwan. 

-sent

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu apologises, “I didn’t expect him to not tell you. It must have shocked you.” 

“No, no,” you feel worse than the time you were about to give the college entrance exam. “I have to apologize, I’m so sorry on behalf of my stupid friend who doesn’t know the term boundaries.” Your phone lights up again, but now it’s Jeonghan losing his mind. 

What blind date????

-Hannie

What the fuck did your best friend do now? 

-Hannie

Don’t tell me you are on a date with another man.

-Hannie

Say no baby. Tell me it’s not what I’m thinking.

-Hannie

Awesome, you sent the text to Jeonghan instead of Seungkwan. If you can just fling yourself out on the road then you might find some peace. 

“Is everything alright?” 

You shake your head, “my boyfriend is losing his shit. I’m so sorry, Mingyu, for the false hope and this news.” 

Mingyu winces, “oh.”

“Seungkwan doesn’t know it yet. If he knew, he wouldn’t have done this.” You explain, “don’t get him wrong. But I would have appreciated some warning before.” 

He shifts in his seat uncomfortably, the table too short for his height. “Yeah, I understand.”

“I’m really, really sorry.”

“Please stop apologising.” Mingyu smiles bittersweetly, “it’s given that pretty girls do have boyfriends. I guess I’m late.” 

Not knowing what to say you remain silent, toying with the tablecloth. He speaks again, “I just wanted to let you know that when Seungkwan showed me your picture, I was excited. And when he said all those stories of you I really thought I hit a jackpot.”

“That’s just him bluffing. Trust me I’m not as shiny as he described.” 

The doors to the bakery shoves open, the bells jangling violently. Jeonghan, dressed in all black, strides in, his narrowed eyes on Mingyu, his fists clenched by his side. His long hair sways with each strong step. Fuck. 

“Hannie,” you panic knowing damn well what he is capable of doing. “Please calm down.” 

Jeonghan grabs your throat, crashing his lips on yours. He nips on your bottom lip, his hand squeezing slightly. You part your lips, he swallows your moan, his tongue swirling along yours, teasingly, making you crave for more. He parts from your lips, a string of saliva connecting yours with his, his blown out dark orbs consuming your entire being. 

“Fuck taking it slow.” He grits, holding your hand, helping you up from the chair. He glares at the man who is watching you two with his jaw hung open. Jeonghan leads you out to his car, the entire walk a blur, you follow whatever he tells you to do, stringing along his fingers like a puppet, he says sit when he opens the door for you, you settle on the passenger seat, he buckles you in, biting your lower lip before he closes the door. 

He drives you to his apartment, the entire ride you sit still, sneaking little glances at Jeonghan. He turns the steering wheel with one hand, the other one on your lap, dangerously close to your core. 

The sensation of his fingers ignites a fire inside you, your lips still tingling with his warmth. Your entire body burning up with the need of him, his hands, his touch, his lips and him, him, him. 

Jeonghan parks the car in the basement, exiting the car and slamming the door shut. You jerk up from the thoughts of him, a fear taking over the desire momentarily, he is really pissed. You remember the night you two confessed, the night where you went on a date just to forget him for one night, only to find him waiting in your home, angry. 

The night ended with you screaming his name, and him enjoying it with grunts, and praises. You couldn’t move from your bed the next morning. 

Jeonghan opens the door for you, observing you for a minute, leaning in unbuckling you, and extending his arm for you to hold him. You comply, following his silent footsteps to the elevator, his grip on you is strong but not crushing. 

He unlocks the door to his apartment, you hesitate, he looks over his shoulder, raising his eyebrow. You enter his apartment with bated breath, “I did tell him I have a boyfriend.” Your voice comes out meek and shaky, “I wasn’t expecting a blind date, Hannie, I would have never gone if I had known.” 

He frowns, bending down he helps you take off your heels, “I know, baby.” He reassures you, “I know you would never cheat on me,” he sets the heels next to his shoes. “But,” he grabs your bag from you, setting it up on the wooden cabinet. “I’m so pissed, seeing that man,” he trails his fingers on your arm, igniting goosebumps, “thinking he had a chance with you, my girl.” 

He tugs you to him, his arm around your waist. “I don’t share.” His teeth sink on your collarbone, “especially you.” You grip on his hair, a stinging pain on your neck. “Now, that lackey will run to your friend, crying over what happened.” 

You feel his smile on your skin. Wicked. 

“Hannie,” you whine, tugging on his hair. 

“Up,” he commands, tapping on the back of thigh once. You jump circling your legs around his hips, he grunts, “good girl.” He rewards you with a slap on your ass.  

You bury your face in his neck, pressing soft kisses on his neck, your hands grabbing onto his shoulders, clinging like your life depends on him. An appreciative moan leaves his lips, his fingers digging into your hips, he turns his head to the side giving you more freedom to kiss him. 

You stretch your back, kissing his cheek, his jaw, sliding your lips to his, you pull back a little staring at his slightly swollen lips. He closes the distance his mouth pressing into yours, you press your thumb on his lips, he parts them, you slip your finger in, he closes around it, his tongue flicking it. You groan, closing your eyes at the sensation, he nips at the skin. You clasp your legs tighter around him, he closes his eyes, throwing his head back, letting out a loud moan. 

“Hannie,” you call his name sweetly, softly. 

He presses you to the wall, “again.” 

“Hannie,” you coo into his ear, rolling your hips. He shudders, gasping in your ear. You clutch his chin, pulling him to you, staring at his lips, his upper lip protruding slightly more than his lower lip, you take in his upper lip in your mouth, kissing, sucking and biting before letting go. 

His hooded eyes on you, “missed that kiss baby.” He nuzzles into your cheek, “had me stay up nights craving for it.” 

You resume kissing his jaw, underside of his chin, drag your lips across his neck, he groans, his hips thrusting into you in reflex, you moan rolling your hips, sinking your teeth on his collarbone, remembering all the girls he went out with before you. 

He hisses in pain, panting, “baby.” 

“I remembered something I shouldn’t.” You detach yourself from his neck, “I hate all those girls you went out with.” 

“Yeah?” He looks into your eyes, “did miss bloom_234 hate it too?” 

You gasp, hitting his chest, “how do you know?” 

He just kisses your lips, “there’s no need for you to be jealous,” he pacifies you, “if you knew how each one ended I think you would be very happy.” 

He opens the door to his room, dropping you on his bed, he rests a knee on the bed leaning back taking you in his sheets. “Perfect.” He crawls over to you, hovering over you, “I missed you.” 

He pulls up your blue blouse over your head, he licks his lips at your black bra contrasting your skin. You tug at his shirt, he removes it, throwing it somewhere in the room. You slide your hand over his bare skin, grazing your nails all along. He shudders, his eyes fluttering shut, moaning your name. 

He snaps his eyes open, eyebrows draw in, he pushes your breasts up, his finger tracing the underside of your breasts. “You have new moles.” 

“Really?” You say absentmindedly, tracing his happy trail disappearing into his pants. 

He grunts, leaning down kissing the moles, “fucking sexy.” 

You grab onto his hair, moaning. Your entire body coming alive under his touch, you squirm under him trying to relieve yourself from the ache. He presses his body on you reading your tics, he rolls his hips into you, your lips parting letting out a silent gasp, his own lips mirroring yours, watching you come undone under him. 

“Hannie,” you scream, as his fingers gravitate to your lower half, pressing where it is aching. “Hannie…”

He nods in encouragement, “louder.” 

You rake your hand through his hair, moving his hair off his face getting a better look of him. He leans into your palm, you tug his hair, sitting up halfway catching his lips. His tongue meets yours, battling for dominance, you push him back onto his knees, sitting on his lap, you readjust that you are an inch taller than him. 

You break the messy, wet kiss, wiping his chin off the saliva. “Hannie,” you call his name just to make sure you aren’t dreaming. 

His starry eyes scan your face, he hums. You kiss his forehead, showering kisses all over his face. “I love you, Hannie.” You whisper in between giving him open mouthed kisses. 

He flips over, resting your leg around his waist, he rolls his hips right where you need him. “I love you,” he unbuckles your bra, “I love you more than anything.” He sits back, taking in you in all of your glory, “I’m so lucky.” He crashes his lips, making you chant his name, and his ministrations reaching the places where he only went and felt.  

—

You feel a nudge on your shoulder, a voice calling your name. You stir awake, your entire body screaming in pain. You groan, moving your legs slowly, lying on your back, blinking your eyes open. Jeonghan is looming over you, his entire face glowing and radiating happiness. 

“Morning.” You squeak in a hoarse voice, you clear your throat, “Hannie.” Sleep sneaks up on you, your eyes fluttering shut. 

“Baby,” he presses a kiss on your nose, “your stomach is growling. I brought breakfast.” 

You whine, covering yourself with sheets and turning away from him, your body sends a sweet signal on why you can’t flip as you want yet. You groan, pressing onto your thighs, trying to salvage the ache. 

“I get a feeling that your body can't handle it.” Jeonghan picks up the sheet, settling next to you. He curls himself in the shape of you, pressing a long kiss on your cheek, his hand massaging your thighs avoiding the places that are too intimate. “You need to build stamina,” he chides. 

“I want to let you know,” you mumble into the pillow you are hugging, “I will rip your hair if you call me weak one more time.” 

He laughs, his morning deep voice echoing in your ear, making you smile in return. “That’s the girl I know.” He presses one more kiss on your temple, “let’s eat. Please.”

“Five more minutes,” you plead. 

He sighs, “we will shower together, and I’ll help if you get up now.” 

You peek at him, “really?” 

He hums, his fingers moving across your soft folds. “Promise, now, let’s get your stomach calm down.” 

It growls one more time as if it got offended. You pout, resting your hand on top of his, patting your stomach (his hand), “okay, let’s eat.”

“Finally.” He stretches to the night table next to the bed, retrieving a shirt. He helps you put the shirt on, tugging it down your body, not before pinching your chest in the process. 

You slap his arm, “men.” 

He smiles cheekily, “beauty must be admired.” He catches your arm before it can punch him in the face. “Okay, okay. You became so violent.” 

He grabs the plate from his study table, his eyes taking in your disastrous morning form, he bites on his lower lip, sitting next to you. “You know,” he suppresses his smile, opening his mouth to continue. 

“Don’t say it.” You warn knowing he isn’t going to say something nice. That teasing lilt is showing all over him. 

He giggles to himself, “just because you begged.” 

“That’s not begging.” You point your finger at him. “Stop with whatever you are trying to do.”

He kisses your nose, “okay, baby. No more begging, it makes my heart sad.” 

You chew on your lip watching him hum under his breath, spreading peanut butter across the bread. “Anything for you, Hannie.” 

He pauses the sliding of the spoon across the bread, narrowing his eyes at you. He doesn’t comment on your faux innocent face. He hands you over the bread, peanut butter accidentally gets on his fingers. 

You hold the bread in one hand, take his fingers into your mouth sucking them clean. The spoon in his hand drops onto the plate with a clatter, his jaw hanging open as he watches you look up at him through your lashes. He curls his fingers in your mouth, your eyes flutter shut in ecstasy and you remove his fingers before he gains the upper hand.

“Sorry, a habit,” you smile, shoving the bread in your mouth, not giving him a chance to lure you into doing something more. 

“You.” He runs his other hand which isn’t covered in your fluids through his hair, swearing under his breath. Probably replaying last night. 

You munch on the bread, enjoying the peanut butter (his agony). “Is something wrong?”  

He shoots daggers at you. “No.” 

“Okay~” you hum a song under your breath. 

He applies the spread on another slice, “are you up for—”

“No, Hannie.”

He pouts, shoulders slumping. “You really need to work on your sta—” he screams when you hold his hair. 

“I didn’t even do anything!” You hit his arm, “stop being dramatic.” 

He sets the plate on the bed, “did you pull out my precious hair? Am I bald now?” 

“I didn’t even pull. You know that.” You are on your knees, towering over him. But you still check your hands for his hair. Not even one single strand is on your hand. “Not even a single hair is harmed.” You show him your hand. 

“Oh.” He pulls you onto him by your waist, making you sit on him. “My bad. I got scared.” He nuzzles his face into your chest, shaking it side to side. “My stress balls.” 

“Yoon fucking Jeonghan!” 

—

The happy bubble pops once you check your phone. In the bliss of being with your lover, the blind date and whole ordeal in the bakery has slipped off your mind. Dozens of texts from Seungkwan and Nari, coupled with missed calls. Seungkwan’s messages go from screaming to cold, distant. Your heart drops to your stomach, rereading that one text. 

I didn’t expect this from you.

-Seungkwan

He is disappointed with you. You know that this would happen, heck, this is what you were scared of happening. His words on the screen become bigger and bigger, taunting you, almost accusing you of your changed behaviour. This isn’t how you used to be, that leads to the point of how Jeonghan is already influencing you in the wrong way. 

It is a stretch, Seungkwan didn’t explicitly worded those, your mind is conjuring all the unhappened scenarios, fracturing your memories, and simply, making you overthink and panic. 

Jeonghan drops a towel on your head, ruffling your wet hair. “Should we go and get real food?” He calls your name twice, thrice before coming around the couch, sitting next to you. “What’s wrong?” He panics, taking the phone. 

“I am sorry.” You sniffle, pressing the edge of your palms on your eyes. “I’m so sorry for causing,” you snuck in a breath, “all the troubles.” 

Jeonghan throws the phone behind him, somewhere on the couch. He pulls you to his chest, patting gently on your back. “You did nothing wrong. Loving someone is never a crime, baby,” he kisses your head, “you shouldn’t apologize for that, I get that there have been not so great moments between us, and it’s just your friend’s apprehension.”

You look up at him mid snuffle, “who are you?” 

He grins, “your most understanding boyfriend. One moment.” He untangles himself from you, disappearing into his room and comes back with a tissue box. He holds a tissue against your runny nose but you take it from him shyly. “As I was saying,” he picks up the towel, resuming drying your hair, “if you just meet with him and talk it through, he will eventually come around.”

“Really? I’m scared he will throw me out of his life.” You voice out your insecurities. “I’m not sure how I would handle something like that.”

“He would never, which is annoying,” your eyes are full of tears again at his words, he quickly amends, “to me, baby, to me. From what I have seen he is going to till the end, if,” he emphasises, “you meet and communicate everything.” 

“You think so?” 

“I think so.” He pinches your cheek, “now text him to meet.” 

—

You are standing outside a restaurant with shaky hands shoved inside your pockets. Seungkwan and Nari are inside, waiting. Jeonghan turns his head from you to the restaurant and vice versa. 

He pulls out his lollipop (the one you shoved in as he can’t stop saying nonsense), “we have all day. Take your time.” 

You shove your elbow into his ribs, he keels over holding onto your arm. “Oh, didn’t see you there. Sorry.” 

“Very funny.” He straightens up after a beat of suffering, taking a step away from you, “how can one night in my arms change you into a violent person? When you should be all lovey-dovey and cling onto me like your life depends—” you shove that lollipop back in his mouth, yet it’s too late. 

A stranger passing next to you into the restaurant snaps his head at you in surprise, his face red. He quickly disappears into the restaurant when Jeonghan cuts his line of sight of you, and barks, “what?”

“Yoon Jeonghan,” you grit,  grabbing his jacket and dragging him into the restaurant. “Should I worry about Seungkwan or your mouth that doesn’t know when to shut up.” 

His arm comes around your shoulder, whispering, “that hurts, baby. How can you say that about my mouth when it only gives you happiness. If you forgot, I'm happy to redo last night anytime.” He stops, pulling you back into him, “on second thought, fuck Seungkwan. Let’s go home.” 

You groan into your hands. “Mistake. Mistake. I shouldn’t have brought you here. Stupid. Stupid.” 

“There. There.” He pried your hands off your face, mock concern written all over him. “I’m your guide, light and whatever there is in times of your pain.” 

You roll your eyes, throwing your hands in the air. “Shut up. This isn’t the time.” 

“When it’s you, my love,” he takes a dramatic step towards you, “it is always the right time.” He crouches to your height, “as I always love you.” 

You smile at his cheesy lines, and his cheesy face. “Shut up,” you say, but it is feeble to your own ears. 

He grins in satisfaction, “let’s go talk with him and go home. And,” he intertwines your hand with his, walking to the table where your two friends are watching like hawks, “walk straight, unless you want your friends to know what we did last night. Or morning.” 

You flush at his words. Does that mean all the way here people weren’t looking at you weirdly for the stray strand sticking up? He lied to you? Or maybe he wanted to make you feel comfortable. This man will get you killed someday from the sheer high blood pressure (and he will follow just because he can’t live without teasing you). 

He squeezes your hand once as the table is one foot away, he looks over his shoulder, his lips pressed in a thin line noticing the anxiety all over you. He pulls out a chair for you first nudging you to sit, “it’s going to be okay. I’m here.” He kisses your cheek and pulls the chair next to you, dragging it close to yours. 

Seungkwan watches you two with distaste, mostly at the man next to you, as if he offended the entirety of his clan and is whistling away at their misery. Seungkwan’s dislike towards Jeonghan turned into hate because of you, the time before your break up was rocky, and Seungkwan did leave your side in the time of your needs. 

“I’m sorry about Mingyu.” You break the ice. “I should have told you beforehand,” you drop your gaze to your lap, fumbling with your fingers, “I just couldn’t find the right time.” 

Seungkwan exhales loudly, opening his mouth and closing it several times. “Why him? He broke your heart once, he would do it again. That’s classic Yoon Jeonghan.” 

Jeonghan leans back in his chair, hand reaching out to yours, he squeezes as if reminding you. Remember my words. Don’t get swayed. 

“How can you be so sure of it?” Jeonghan asks, “if all I need is to have done it before, then I did love her. What if I just love her this time? Through thick and thin, hold her tightly instead of letting it go this time.

“I get that you come from a place of love for her, but she's a fully capable adult who can decide for herself.” 

Seungkwan scoffs, “don’t make me laugh. She is blindsided, I’m just looking out for her, saving her from an asshole who hits people.” He smirks at the dumbfounded Jeonghan, “thought I didn’t know?” 

You snap towards your boyfriend, dread settling in the pit of your stomach. Hitting? What on earth is he doing with his life? He didn’t run into trouble at Yangsan, you would know somehow if he did, it’s a small city and the circle is too close to each other to let go of gossiping this big news. It must have happened while in Seoul. 

Suddenly you are back to the night of your first blind date with Jeonghan. Seungkwan spewed something along these lines even then. Now you remember, it’s because of you. 

“Don’t overthink,” Jeonghan is on alert from reading your face, “it was really really minute, almost nothing.” 

You grip onto his fingers, “tell me what happened.” 

Jeonghan throws a dirty look at Seungkwan for putting him into this situation. You tap on his hand, pulling his attention back to you. If Seungkwan is making it a big thing then there must be something. 

“Just an ex colleague of mine made a crass comment,” he doesn’t look at you, “I couldn’t hold back.” 

You press on, “tell me in detail. What did he say to you? You are good at what you do.” 

Jeonghan didn’t climb up just on pure luck. His dedication, hard work and long hours are what made him reach a higher position for his age. 

“He was shitting on me for letting go of a girl that he would,” he looks at you, pressing his lips into a thin line, he doesn’t want to say it out loud, you decipher, you nod, encouragingly, “have fun with.” 

You have a feeling that he is sugar coating the words. “Did he talk that vulgar of her to make you snap?” You are happy that he stood up for a girl. 

He shakes his head once. “Then he brought you up,” his eyes glazed over, anger sizzling in them, “and I couldn’t hold back. I hit him so good,” he smirks, “it was bloody everywhere.”  

You stare at him, the perfectly long strands falling onto his face, covering the side, his proud smile. He turns to you, hesitance in demeanour as you don’t speak. He couldn’t stomach someone talking wrongly about you. 

“What did he say?” 

“I’m not sure you want to know.” 

“Please.”

He looks at the curious Nari and shocked Seungkwan, leans into your ear, whispering, “he said sex with you must be boring.” He grips your inner thigh, under the table, “the fuck he knows.” His finger brushes your core before moving his hand to your knees, to a safe place. 

You reach for water, taking a big gulp. Nari and Seungkwan watch you curiously, the reddening cheeks grabbing their attention. 

“What did he say?” Nari questions. “You can’t leave us hanging!” She points at Jeonghan, “it’s like watching a movie and turning it off at the climax.” 

Jeonghan grins, folding his arms across his chest. “Secret.” 

“Ugh, Seungkwan, you can get more details, right? Ask the person who told you about the fight. Please, please.” 

“That’s not the point here.” He sucks his teeth. “The point is if he is violent with others how are you sure he wouldn’t be with you.” 

“He would never.” You say with conviction. “Jeonghan would never.” 

Jeonghan presses your knee in appreciation. You continue, looking Seungkwan head on, “he may hurt me, I might hurt him. It is inevitable. He reigns that power over me, one word from him can cut me into pieces but,” you pause, you slouch slowly, “he also can pull me out of my misery with a single word.” 

This morning is an example of it. You were shaking, the weight of guilt sitting on your shoulders, mind everywhere. And he walks in with his easy smiles and reassuring words, quickly leads you to a solution, and offers his shoulder to listen to your concerns, more like pries them off your chest. He has always been your sun, shining brightly through your clouded moments. 

“All I want from him is to not give up when things get hard. And not run away.” 

He promised you he wouldn’t. Since the moment you met him again on the blind date, he has been trying his best, keeping his word. No matter how hard you pushed him away, he gave you time and space to sit with your feelings, some run-ins with him have been purely coincidental, almost like a destiny. 

His presence in your life has brought back peace, calm, and love. A pillar that holds you, grounds you down. All you need from him is his love. 

“I won’t run away,” he promises. You kiss his cheek in appreciation. 

Nari coos in awe. Seungkwan still doesn’t look happy with the relationship. But there’s a crack in his stance, wavering his outlook on Jeonghan. 

“I’m sorry, Seungkwan, for keeping it a secret. It hasn’t been that long since we started seeing each other.” 

Jeonghan opens his mouth to rebut. You kick his leg. He shuts it back. 

“I don’t see the need for you to keep anything from me.” He smiles sadly, “did I not give you that space to talk about anything and everything?” 

“I just know that you hate him,” you say, he nods in confirmation. Jeonghan scoffs. You continue, “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Seungkwan is taken aback at your words. “Disappoint? I speak garbage when I’m angry but never once I feel disappointed with you. I’m so sorry that I made you feel that somehow.

“I may not be happy with your selection, but if he is really gonna make you feel happy, I’m not the one to decline. After seeing you the last two years all I want is happiness for you. For you, I’m willing to,” he looks at Jeonghan, “try.” 

“Really?” You leap from your chair. 

Seungkwan chuckles, “yeah. It’s good to see that he was defending your name even in your absence.” 

Jeonghan’s shoulders reach his ears in pride. 

“But how are you going to do long distance?” Nari asks. 

“About that,” you clear your throat, “he is kind of living in Yangsan.” 

“What?” Seungkwan barks. 

“He moved,” you add. 

“Yoon Jeonghan? Moved? Why?” 

Jeonghan beats you to answer, “this is nothing compared to the people we love.” 

Your heart flutters in your chest. Those are the words you said to him when he asked why you took the transfer instead of Seungkwan. Jeonghan moved because he loves you, he is willing to do everything just for you. Tears well up in your eyes, unable to hold in the waves of emotions hitting you. Does distance really make the heart grow fonder? 

“That’s sappy.” Seungkwan rolls his eyes, but smiles for the first time in the evening. Nari laughs, happy with the argument subsiding for now. 

You laugh along with her, heart at ease, happy. You are happy with Yoon Jeonghan, the words he says, the teasing eyes before he does any mischief, you are in love with just Yoon Jeonghan, in whatever form he is gonna come in future. He is going to be your Jeonghan. 

He notices your loving stare, he grins at you, “see, communication resolved it.” He presses a kiss on your lips, “you got worried for nothing.” 

“I love you,” you mutter when he just pulled away, he doesn’t stray far listening to your confession. He comes back to your lips, now, pressing with more conviction, and a happiness that couldn’t contain in himself, coming out in the form of a wide smile and a chuckle. 

“Is this what Mingyu saw yesterday?” Seungkwan’s voice snapped you two out of your moment. “Did you know you traumatised that poor soul?” 

Jeonghan pulls away with a smug grin, “serves him right.” 

You slap his shoulder. “Shut up.” You turn to Seungkwan, “please tell him that we are really sorry.” 

“I’m not.”

“Yoon Jeonghan.” 

“What? I’m really not.”  

Seungkwan throws his hands in the air, “here we go again.”

[wcnderlnds]

dizzy [ part five ] ★ choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

・❥・ summary: tudum finally arrives and you couldn’t be more proud of seunghyun. your final night in la ends up being your favourite but when you get back home, you find out something that’ll change both your lives. ・❥・word count: 2.9k ・❥・warnings: 18+, mdni. unprotected p in v, soft sex, swearing, pregnancy. ・❥・ authors note: and we’ve reached the end <3 thank you guys for sticking with me through this fun little seunghyun week. i’ve had so much fun writing this. it’s the first series i’ve ever actually finished too!! i also gave up proofreading halfway though bc its late so forgive any mistakes. love u all!!

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

Today was going to be the busiest day of the week. Tudum was a massive event – so much planning went into it so every part of it had to be perfect. Seunghyun had left early again to go check out the venue and get a walkthrough of how everything was going to go later that night. You knew you probably wouldn’t get to see him much until the event was done. It made you a little sad that you couldn’t be by his side for this one but you’d be there regardless, supporting him in whatever way you could. Seunghyun could handle this one alone. He had shown so much growth and confidence over the last few days alone. It was like a permanent smile was etched on his face now which in turn made you so damn happy. This was his moment, his time and while it was long overdue, you were so glad it was finally happening for him. So many more doors would be opened for him, the opportunities he’d lost out on before would come pouring in, you just knew it.

While Seunghyun was busy working, you had decided to treat yourself to a little wander around downtown LA. It wasn’t the same without your husband by your side but you still had fun. You visited one of the best bakeries in town, sending a photo to Seunghyun as you took a bite out of the cupcake you’d bought. Next, you did a little bit of clothes shopping, finding the perfect dress for tonight. Once again, you sent a photo to Seunghyun as you tried it on. This time he replied almost instantly.

You laughed out loud when you saw it — that stupid Adam Levine DM meme. You shot a quick reply back, letting him know you’d bought it and that you missed him and headed back to the hotel. Seunghyun had let you know he was on his way back, too.

It was a few minutes after you’d stepped through the door when he did. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, pulling you against his chest. “I missed you. I’m sorry that I barely get to see you today. I have to head back in an hour.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled up at him. “You’ll just have to make it up to me later.”

“And I will,” he leaned down to capture your lips in a sweet, gentle kiss.

“Are you having fun, though?”

“Yeah, I… missed doing stuff like this. Seeing the fans, talking to people — it’s been a long time and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do it but everyone has been so kind. I didn’t expect it.”

“Please, everyone loves you. And if they didn’t, they’d have me to deal with you.” You put on your best menacing face to prove your mind which caused him to laugh loudly, playfully booping your nose.

“I love you but you’re the least threatening person I know,” he teased. His dimples were on full show, making you melt. It really was hard to remember when you’d seen him smile so much like this. It was enough to make you emotional.

“Hey, when it comes to protecting you, I won’t hesitate to throw a punch,” you were half joking but in reality, you really would hurt someone if they ever did someone to upset him.

“Okay, calm down, Mike Tyson.”

“Shutup and kiss me again before I have to share you with the world for the rest of the day.”

And, he happily did. He made sure to make it a kiss you���d remember, his lips moving against yours slowly, full of all the love and adoration he had for you. It made your head spin, your heart beating ten to the dozen. No matter how many times he kissed you, it always felt like the very first time.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It was so hard to tear your eyes away from Seunghyun. This was his best look of the week. The dark suit with the glittering stars on it paired with those glasses? He looked beautiful. It was enough to almost take your breath away. What made it even better was seeing him laugh and have fun. He had been his goofy self all night long. Every interview he’d been dropping the ‘skrrt’ line and had even made his grand entrance doing the famous Thanos slip. At some point, he’d been given a gift of some soju and by the look on his face you knew he wasn’t interested in it one bit. He held the box in his hand, awkwardly looking at it and trying to put it back on the shelf with the others. You’d laughed out loud at that. Anyone who knew Seunghyun knew he only drank the highest quality of wines.

He had been the star of the show. All the photographers wanted him and solely him. Fans were screaming the loudest for him out of anyone else on the red carpet. He truly was the people’s princess.

It just so happened that Squid Game was first up on the stage. The crowd went crazy for Seunghyun, making you tear up. This was his first time on a stage in front of people in years. It was where he belonged. He really did shine the brightest out of them all. There were no words to explain how proud of him

you were. This whole week had done wonders for his self esteem and you’d never forget it. The world crave Choi Seunghyun and you knew this was just the start of many more appearances like this. Now he had his confidence back, the world was his oyster. It would give him the push he needed to finally release his album and maybe even get back on that stage to perform next time.

Since they’d been on first and weren’t needed for the rest of the show — a crime considering Squid Game was the most watched Netflix show of all time — Seunghyun had decided to sneak away and leave the event early. You were glad because it meant you could finally get more than five minutes alone with him. Watching him from afar was great but you needed him up close and personal so you could tell him how proud you were of him.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“You killed it tonight, baby,” you said softly, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek. You were back at the hotel now, finally getting the alone time with each other that you’d both been craving. “I’m so proud of you. It’s been such a privilege getting to see you out there thriving everyday and getting showered in all the love you’ve deserved for so long.”

“I said it earlier in the week and I’ll say it again, I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without you. You’re my rock, my lifeline. Having you with me at every single one of these events made it so much easier so thank you for never giving up on me even when I wanted to give up on myself,” he pushed your hair back behind your ear, leaning his forehead against yours. “I love you.”

He didn’t let you have time to respond, instead he pressed his lips to yours. His hands gripped at your hips, pulling you flush against him as he poured all his emotions into the kiss. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, depending the kiss causing you to moan. You gripped at the lapels of his jacket to pull him closer to you if that was even physically possible.

Seunghyun’s hand delicately moved to your back, sliding up your spine until he found the zipper of your dress. He didn’t tear his lips from yours as he pulled the zipper down, pushing the dress from your shoulders. When he did, it was only to let your dress fall, leaving you standing their in your bra and panties. His words were breathless, his eyes raking over you with a loving gaze. “You’re so beautiful. I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

It brought a blush to your cheeks which only made him smile. It was your turn now to rid him of his jacket, deftly unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders. Your hands roamed the toned skin of his chest, sliding up and wrapping around his neck. Seunghyun gripped your waist, slowly backing you up until your legs hit the back of the bed. He guided you onto it, settling between your legs on top of you. His lips trailed along your neck, down to your collarbone. There was no rush this time, no desire to leave marks. He wanted to cherish you, show you how much he loved you. His hips pressed against yours, slowly grinding against you allowing you to feel how hard he already was.

It took no time at all for him to remove your bra, his lips trailing along the smooth skin of your breast taking one of your nipple in his mouth. His tongue swirled around the hardened bud while his fingers trailed along your inner thigh. His touch caused you to shiver, a soft gasp echoing through the room when his fingers dipped insider your panties. He felt how wet you were, how ready you were for him already. He rubbed his fingers through your folds, his mouth now moving to lavish your other breast with attention. You arched up into him, fingers threading through his hair, messing it up. One of his favourite things in the world was when you ran your hands through his hair, bonus points if you tugged on it.

“I need you, Seunghyun,” you breathed, unable to take it anymore. “So fucking much.”

“I need you too,” he mumbled against your skin, trailing his lips back up to meet yours. Your hand moved between your bodies to pop open the button on his pants and he instantly took the hint. He pulled himself away from you momentarily to pull his pants and boxers off, your mouth watering as you watched his cock spring free, aching and leaking at the tip. Once he was bare, he made quick work of pulling your panties off, patting your legs for him.

He positioned himself at your entrance, taking one of your hands in his, lacing your fingers together then he pushed in. Seunghyun wasn’t in a rush, he took his time sinking himself into you excruciatingly slow until he was bottomed out inside you. His lips peppered your face with kisses, not moving just yet because he wanted to savour the feeling of being joined with you.

“I love you so fucking much,” he whispered, finally pulling his hips back slowly and pushing back in. His thrusts were slow, deep, making you feel every inch of him with each thrust.

“I love you too,” you moved your hips in time with his, squeezing his hand that was holding yours. The breath moans falling from your lips and the way your chest rose and fell was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

He pulled one of your legs around his waist to hit deeper inside you, still with his slow and steady pace. The tip of his cock repeatedly hit that spot inside you that had you seeing stars. Seunghyun knew you were getting close with the way your moans were growing louder. He could feel you clenching around him. His own orgasm was fast approaching, his thrusts become a little quicker now as he chased your highs.

“I’m so close, baby. So fucking close. Come with me. I want to feel you let go,” he kissed you deeply. His fingers found your clit, rubbing it in tight, quick circles to help bring you to the peak of ecstasy.

“Seunghyun,” you moaned, your nails raking down his back. There was definitely going to be marks but he didn’t care. In fact he loved it. “I-I’m… fuck, I’m gonna come.”

It took a couple more thrusts before you let go, crying out his name. Seunghyun’s hips faltered as his own release hit him, stilling inside you. He held you in place as he came, a guttural groan falling from his lips at the feeling of filling you up. Once you’d squeezed every last drop of his release from him, he collapsed on top of you, careful not to crush you. His lips peppered your face with kisses, causing you to giggle breathlessly.

“You’re fucking amazing,” his voice was a deep rumble, spent from the force of your shared release. “I’ll never tire of being with you like this.”

“Me neither,” you said softly. Your fingers ran through his hair, Seunghyun closing his eyes and leaning into your touch. “I think this was the perfect way to end a perfect week.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The first few weeks back in Korea had been normal. Seunghyun had gone back to working on his eagerly awaited album while you supported him in any way you could. Everything seemed perfect. The LA trip had done wonders for him. It was about a month later when things took a bit of a turn.

At first you’d thought nothing of it. The nausea, the headaches, the way your boobs ached — you’d just put it down to your period but when they didn’t come was when you started to worry. There was no way, right? Well, actually there was. You and Seunghyun weren’t exactly careful. There were so many times where you got caught up in the moment and forgot about using a condom. The week in LA had been a perfect example of that. There was only one way to know for sure if your suspicions were correct.

One day while Seunghyun was busy in his studio, you went into the bathroom pulling out the three pregnancy tests you’d secretly bought. The agnosing wait to see the results was probably the most nervous you’d ever felt in your life. There was a moment where you couldn’t even bring yourself to look but when you did and they all said positive, your head began to spin.

You had to tell Seunghyun.

That was going to be the hardest part.

With a deep breath, you stepped inside the studio. Seunghyun spun around in his chair the second he’d heard the door, a smile on his face until he saw the look on yours. He raised a brow at you in concern. “Everything okay?”

You fumbled with the tests you’d stored in the front pocket of your hoodie, ready to pull them out to show him. “Please don’t freak out but… you know how I haven’t been feeling well the last few weeks? Well, um….”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say the words so finally you pulled the tests out to show Seunghyun. At first he was confused then his face paled, his eyes widening. “…no.”

“Please don’t freak out,” you wrapped your arms around yourself, your voice barely above a whisper. You could already tell it was too late for that. He was indeed freaking out.

One of the first things Seunghyun had told you when you got together was that he didn’t want children. He loved kids but he never saw himself as the person who could be a father to a kid. In his head, he could barely take care of himself let alone another human being. It was so much responsibility, one that he did think he could handle. It hadn’t bothered you. When you thought about your future, you’d never thought about children so it wasn’t a big deal.

But, here you were, pregnant with your husband looking like he was about to pass out in his chair,

“… are you sure?” He asked, finally meeting your eyes.

“Yeah. I know this wasn’t part of the plan, I know you don’t want this but I’m scared, Seunghyun. I need you to tell me you’re not going to run. I don’t know what I’d do if you did.” Tears threatened to fall from your eyes as you furiously rubbed at them with the sleeve of your hoodie.

Seunghyun was on his feet and in front of you in an instant. He pulled your hands away from your face, using the pad of his thumbs to wipe away the few tears that had managed to fall. “I’m fucking terrified. I’m not dad material. The thought of being a dad scares me but not because I don’t want to be one but because I know I won’t be good enough. But, don’t you dare for one second ever think I’d run. I love you too damn much to ever leave you. I… do want this, I always have deep down, especially with you but I’m always going to think i’m not good enough.”

“But you are. You’re more than good enough. The way you are with your nephew is proof enough to me that you’ll be an amazing dad,” you met his eyes, the vulnerability in his matching your own. “You’re kind, patient, strong and not to mention a giant goofball. All the ingredients of a perfect dad.”

“You’re biased,” he joked to try and lighten the tension. “…I’ll be honest with you, baby, if this had been last year or even a few months ago, I don’t think I’d be able to do this but… I think I’m finally in a place where I could. Like I keep saying, as long as I have you, I can do anything.”

“So, we’re doing this?”

“Yeah, we’re doing this.”

You wrapped your arms around him, leaning your head on his chest. “I guess now I have a reason to call you daddy.”

He laughed, the sound like music to your ears. The road ahead probably wasn’t going to be easy but you had each other and that was all that mattered.

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[lheslie]

8 Variants + 1 Reader II

Since you guys liked the first one, I decided to make part II.

2.4k words. Wow.

It was very hectic, living in a house with 8 different Variants of your best friend, and they follow you around like lost dogs, and their reasoning is. "Well duh, what are we supposed to do?" Target Mark looks at you as he complains.

"We're literally bound to you in case you forgot." Target Mark added.

You sighed, thinking of ways to resolve this matter; as Omni Mark put breakfast on the table, you smiled. "Thank you." He nodded in response.

"Hey, what about us?" Mohawk Mark commented. "You're fully grown adults, make your own food." Omni Mark replied.

You stood up, as they all looked at you walking to the kitchen, they followed aimlessly behind. "What are you doing?" No goggles Mark asked. "Well, I'm making food for you all?" You replied, looking at them; Omni Mark sighed. "They have their own portions here. They're not finished yet; you don't have to cook." Omni Mark says.

"Oh? Thank you again." You smiled. "You could've just said that from the beginning and we wouldn't have stood up and walked here. " Mohawk Mark complained. "You just followed Y/N." Omni Mark retorted. "Well, what are we supposed to do again, huh?" Mohawk Mark asks as you try massaging your forehead to calm yourself down.

Thankfully, Viltrum Mark and Shiesty Mark were just watching TV until Shiesty Mark comments about breakfast. "When the fuck is breakfast coming? a man's starving here for fuck's sake." He complained. "EVERYONE'S STARVING WAIT FOR YOUR TURN UNLESS YOU WANT TO COOK YOUR SHARE." Target Mark yells. "Fuck you, puss." Shiesty Mark replied, raising his hand to flip Target Mark off with a beer in his hand.

"IS THAT A BEER?" You gasped in shock as Shiesty looked at you hiding the beer. "Uhm, nope, you saw wrong sweetie." He replied. "It's early in the morning, it's bad for health!" You scolded him as he threw the beer out of the window, which caused your window's glass to be smashed into pieces. "My bad babe." Shiesty apologizes.

Prisoner Mark sighed and went to the storage room to get some supplies and fix the broken window. "Thank you." You thanked Prisoner Mark as he gave a nod. You look at each and every one of them; you realize that they've been wearing the same outfit they've worn since they arrived. So an Idea popped into your head.

"Alright, I'll be making a list of our agenda today. EVERYONE MEET IN THE DINING ROOM." You yelled.

Everyone was in the dining room present, listening to you inhale and exhale. "So, today we're going to shop for your clothes because you've been wearing your clothes for I don't know how long, and it's starting to become unhygienic. Next, we're going to find Cecil and get you Jobs to clear out your boredom inside this house, and next, maybe we should find a bigger place, but maybe when we have money because I feel bad for you all sleeping on my floor." You awkwardly smiled.

"Work for Cecil? I'm an emperor in my dimension-" Target Mark complains as you cut him off. "Well you're stuck in my dimension under my control now, so you have no choice." You replied, smiling. as he scoffs, crossing his arms and pouting.

"Come on, you guys told me you were getting bored watching me 24/7." You sighed. "I don't get bored; in fact, I love watching you 24/7; it helps me get off at night." Shiesty jokes as you get flustered and replied. "AYO WHAT?" You covered your face in embarrassment. "Please don't say that I might die of a heart attack here." You squeak. "Isn't that adorable?" Mohawk Mark teases.

"As Target Mark said, I also refuse to work with Cecil and the GDA." Omni Mark added as you ponder. "Well, since you don't want to work under Cecil, how will you guys work?" You questioned them, they all looked at each other and Sinister Mark spoke. "You can let us take over the world, and you won't have any problems anymore." the other Marks nod in agreement. "No." You flatly refused.

"Well, you could; let us take over the Black Market then, then we'll sell drugs, organs, and weaponry, and we'll create an underground fighting ring, and I can be your champion!." No goggles Mark suggested smiling

"Nope, try again what can you guy s do to work?" You asked again.

"We can work as mercenaries?" Viltrumite Mark raised his hand suggesting.

"Okay, I can agree with that, but let's put it aside in case we can find more." You commented, sighing as you thought of a joke. "Ya'll ever thought of prostitution? I'm kidding, but it's funny, though." You laughed.

"It works, I'm sure we're always sold out." Mohawk Mark smirks getting in the joke. "I may be a whore, but I'm YOUR whore, so no thanks, I ain't fucking touching other people; who knows where they've gone through." Shiesty Mark complains.

"Well, Mercenaries it is." You sighed, as you asked the Marks to make an agency name.

"How about, Emperor Marks." Target Mark recommends as Mohawk Mark laughs at the name, making Target Mark mad at him and causing them to squabble. "Conquerors is better." Mohawk Mark suggests.

"This is childish." Omni Mark comments as he sits, arms crossed and his legs spread, Viltrumite Mark just stares at you and attempts to hold your hand, and you let him hold it and caress it. His hand was bigger than yours, tough but smooth.

"How about The Invincibles?" You recommended it, and everyone hums in agreement.

"Finally, okay let's go shopping since that's decided and we're losing time." You looked at the wall clock.

"How are we going out with clothes like this?" Target Mark asks as they all nod in agreement.

"Mark, okay, my dimension. Mark had some clothes inside my closet when we used to have sleepovers before; hopefully, it's enough for you all." You say.

"You bring this out now??" Sinister Mark comments. "I forgot, hehehe." You smiled as you noticed Prisoner Mark looking at the Mirror, and you approached him. "Are you okay?" You asked him. "Do I look okay?" He asked with a hint of anger lingering in his voice. You looked at him, saddened, because he felt this way. You wanted to comfort him, but you were afraid that you'd hurt him, not knowing what he went through.

You reached for his hand, gently holding it, stroking it with your thumb. "I don't know how to comfort you, but please know that I care for you, I hate to see you hurting inside." You spoke, looking at him. as the other Marks just looked at you and Prisoner Mark, having a moment.

"I don't know if you're doing this on purpose to gain her sympathy right now, but it's getting late, Are you coming or not?" Target Mark complains. You sighed yet again. "Please stop bullying each other."

"What would we say if they asked why we all look the same?" Viltrumite Mark asked you "Say you're an octuplet, a rare birth instance." You told him giving a thumbs up.

"This is stupid." Sinister Mark grumbles. "So fucking stupid," Shiesty adds. "HEY, unless you all have better ways to hide your identity than be my guest, I'd love to hear suggestions." You clenched your teeth as Omni Mark grabs your hand, reminding you ,to go.

"Alright, let's stop this and go."

At the Mall, everyone was looking at the Marks, who looked the exact same person.

"Let's go to a drive-through and trick the people into giving us free food by making them think they hallucinated." No goggles Mark joked. "Fuck yeah, that sounds SO fun." Shiesty Mark adds, as they walk to MC Donalds.

"I'll call you later when we're done." You yelled at the both of them.

"We don't have phones." Omni Mark reminds you. "I guess we'll have to shop for those too." You sighed as you walked inside the Mall, venturing into the clothing section.

"Alrighty then, choose your clothes here." You pointed out to the Marks. "These are cheap ass clothes." Target Mark complained to you. "Well, I ain't rich; we're on a budget; go cry about it, babe." You replied, exhausted, as they groaned, starting to choose clothes for themselves. Prisoner Mark was in a section filled with Hoods, and you approached him, trying to help him choose hoodies. "Here it looks cute on you." You smiled as you handed a hoodie with cats on it.

He smiled taking the hoodie, trying it on. He came out as you inspected the clothing on him; he clearly needed a bigger size, considering he was more buffer than the other Marks. "We need an Extra Large?" You questioned yourself. "Maybe An Extra Extra Large." You said as you held his muscles feeling them through the hoodie, which made him a bit flustered. "Hey! that's not fair; feel me out here too." Mohawk Mark breaks the moment between the two of you as Prisoner Mark pouts and you go to the other Marks checking their outfits out. "You guys are good at choosing outfits, I can see that you all have different tastes in different dimensions." You commented.

"We had different lives, and personally I had cooler ones than these dudes." Mohawk Mark snickers. Viltrum Mark chose an old English style outfit, and you wondered how he did that because this was just an outlet for cheap clothes. "Wow, how did you find those?" You questioned. "It was in the deepest parts; I kept digging in; I thought it looked nice." He commented as Sinister Mark got out of the fitting room with a Tuxedo. "Woah, are you going to the Grammy Awards? Where do you all keep getting those? These are not cheap." You said trying to find the price tags on the clothes. "Huh, they're  cheap?" Which made you, astonished and pondered.

"Oh, we ll let's take advantage of this then." You said as Omni Mark got out with a simple and elegant outfit that made him look like a father. It looks good on him so you just nod in agreement. Mohawk comes out of the fitting room looking like a Rockstar. "Damn." You whispered. "I heard that, baby; I look hot, right?" He smirked, wink,ing at you as you hid your face in Prisoner Mark's back.

You coughed. "Someone get the others who went to MC donalds they need to get some clothes too." Viltrumite Mark nodded and started to float. "No flying in civilain clothing." You warned him as he went back down and started to walk at superspeed instead.

The others took more clothes into the shopping cart, filling it. You checked out your wallet and bank account to see if you had enough money. Unfortunately you did not have enough money, but you could probably pay in installments.

Shiesty Mark No goggles Mark with Viltrumit Mark came back with a lot of food with menacing grins on their faces after doing a huge food haul.

"ALL RIGHT, BON APPETITE." No googles Mark shouted as he started to give away food to the other Marks.

"Okay, get some clothing while the others eat." You ordered the two of them as they rushed in to get some clothing. No goggles. Mark came out with some cute t-shirts with some dogs on them. "It reminds me of Seance Dog." he beamed. As Shiesty Mark came out, your jaw dropped seeing him in a hot outfit. "Okay?"

"Are all of you done? remember to get some underwear too, and we'll proceed to the self-checkout." You reminded them as everyone followed in pursuit, checking out the items as you sat down somewhere waiting for them.

Little did you know they didn't punch everything in the self-checkout, and the real reason why Shiesty and No Goggles Mark separated from the group was to turn off all of the security cameras so they could steal from the mall. The clothes they took were not from the cheap outlet; they stole them from designer brands and got out of the fitting room before you even noticed they were gone.

"Well that's interesting, they were very cheap." You softly smiled as it didn't impact your bank account.

"Alright, time to buy some phones." You started walking as the Marks nodded at each other to continue their plan of getting expensive stuff, posing it as cheap.

"I'll be going to the bathroom." Mohawk Mark said as Target Mark also said the same; you nodded in approval as you walked to the gadget store.

You were checking on phones as the store clerks seemed very nice, offering you expensive phones at cheap prices, which you immediately bought. "We should buy different cases, too; we don't want your phones mixing up." You said that the Marks chose their phone cases.

"I need to pee, take my card and pay for it." You said walking to the nearest restroom available.

After you got out of the restroom you saw Mohawk Mark and Target Mark carrying a lot of groceries.

"We got some groceries with your card on the way." Mohawk Mark explained. "I didn't give you my card though?" You questioned. "Well, we grabbed it from the other Marks when we were at the checkout." Target Mark supports Mohawk Mark's explanation. You shrugged it off.

After that long haul, you all went home feeling satisfied with your purchase.

"Was the mall giving out discounts today?" You questioned. "It seems we were lucky." Viltrumite Mark says. "Duh, we're practically Emperors in our dimensions; of course, we're lucky." Target Mark scoffs.

Prisoner Mark was enjoying the hoodies you chose for him as No goggles Mark and Shiesty Mark started to play on their mobile phone.

Sinister Mark bought some wine and started to pour himself some glass of wine. "Can Viltrumites even get drunk?" You asked. "No, I love the taste though." He answers your question taking a sip.

Omni Mark started to fix the groceries and the clothes you all bought, as Mohawk Mark started downloading social media to scroll down over tiktok.

"A lot of stupid people out there these days." He groaned.

You sighed in relief as you survived a day with them again.

*Meanwhile*

The store clerks in that mall did not report the incident out of fear for their lives.

Chapter I - Chapter III

[anon-188]

mini series: wicked games 🥀 — epilogue

pairing: AJ x f!reader

series summary: it was supposed to be simple. no feelings. no fallout. but when tempers flare and lines blur, simple turns dangerous fast. because AJ plays just as dirty outside the bedroom as he does in it—and you? you’re not afraid to match him move for move.

warnings: explicit content (18+), strong language, drunk!AJ, emotional vulnerability, unresolved relationship tension, soft angst, mild physical intimacy, confessions, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol use.

a/n: here’s the final part!! 😭 writing this one hurt in the best possible way. ughhh. i really hope you guys like it! ♡

also—thank you so much for reading and for all the love on this mini-series!!! it truly means the world to me 🫶

⟢ wicked games 🥀: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 

The next few weeks passed in that strange, disorienting way where time felt both impossibly slow and unfairly fast. You hadn’t spoken to AJ since that night, and didn’t expect to. Still, the two of you moved in the same circle, brushing against the same air, sharing the same rooms. But even then, his eyes never met yours. And it wasn’t like before, when he avoided you out of pride or spite. This time, it felt different. Like looking at you would undo something in him. 

Tonight, you left the bar early again, mumbling to Lili that you had a morning to get ready for. She didn’t question it. No one really did anymore. You’d been using that excuse all month, cycling through it like clockwork. And you weren’t ready to stop. Not while he still lingered in your space—in your mind. 

As the night stretched on, you found yourself curled up on your couch, wearing an oversized shirt and a pair of soft shorts. One of your favorite shows played on the TV, the volume low, more for background noise than anything else. You weren’t really watching—just letting it fill the silence, as if that could soften the way your chest tightened every time the quiet got too loud.

You were drifting off, eyes heavy, when a knock came at the door. It wasn’t loud but it was enough to pull you from the edge of sleep. You sat up, blinking yourself back into focus. A glance at your phone told you nothing. No messages. No missed calls. Nothing that would explain who was on the other side of the door.

Another knock. This time it was softer, almost hesitant.

You moved toward the door, sleep still lingering in your limbs. Your fingers grazed the frame for balance just as your hip clipped the side table. A sharp clatter echoed through the room, loud enough to betray your presence. You cursed under your breath, and then—

“It’s me.”

His voice.

Low, familiar, frayed at the edges.

AJ.

You stood there for a moment, frozen, staring at the door. Part of you wanted to ignore it, pretend you didn’t hear. But your hand moved anyway, undoing the lock and turning the handle. The door creaked slightly as you pulled it back, and before you could even register what was happening, AJ stumbled forward—like he had been leaning against it the entire time.

You caught the movement fast, your hand instinctively twitching forward to catch him, but AJ managed to straighten up on his own—just barely. His weight shifted clumsily, and for a second, you thought he might topple again. Instead, he ended up sagging against the doorframe, one hand gripping it like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

That’s when you knew. He was drunk. Not just tipsy, not a few-drinks-in kind of drunk. He was hammered.

“I didn’t think you were gonna answer,” he mumbled, the words hardly clinging to shape.

You opened your mouth to ask what he was doing here, what possessed him to show up like this—but he fell forward again. His body tilting too fast and this time, he didn’t catch himself.

You did. 

“Hey,” you said, arms bracing him as your breath hitched, trying to steady him. It didn’t do much. He was heavy, too tall, and clearly out of it.

This wasn’t what you expected. Not even close. But instinct took over, and without a word, you helped him to the couch, kicking the door shut behind you. With each unsteady step, you adjusted his weight, shifting the arm draped over your shoulders.

Whatever was or wasn’t going on between you didn’t matter—not with him like this.

When you got him to the couch, he let himself fall into it like the night had finally caught up with him. His elbows braced on his knees for a second, head hanging low before he finally sat back. It wasn’t anything dramatic, only a small, exhausted lean, his head tipping back against the top of the couch as he closed his eyes.

“Hey,” you said, tone gentler now. “How much did you drink?”

You weren’t accusing him, just trying to gauge where he was. AJ could handle his liquor better than most, but this was different. His movements were slower, sloppier. 

He turned his head towards your voice, eyes still shut. “I don’t know,” he muttered, almost too strained like he had to force it out. 

That’s when you saw them—his keys, clutched loosely in one hand.

Your heart dropped a little. “Please tell me you walked here,” you said, already reaching to take them from him. “You didn’t drive, right?”

He let them go without a fight, head lolling slightly as he gave a lazy chuckle. “I’m drunk, not stupid.”

“Debatable,” you said, the response slipping out faster than you could stop it.

That made him laugh again. And for the first time all night, his eyes found yours. The look that passed between you wasn’t clear, but it was something. Something that made it hard to look away.

Everything inside you pulled taut again.

“I’ll, um… I’ll get you some water,” you said, your voice breathy and light. You started to turn, trying to give yourself space, distance, air. But before you could take a full step, his fingers closed around your wrist. Not hard, not rough, but firm. Steady.

He tugged, catching you off guard as he sat up straighter. Your feet scrambled, balance slipping, and he used the momentum to pull you in until you landed in his lap.

You straddled him, knees awkwardly braced against the couch cushions, hands on his shoulders—the only thing keeping you from fully crashing into him.

“AJ,” you breathed out, heart hammering in your chest as his hands settled on your hips.

His grip didn’t tighten, but it didn’t loosen either. He just sat there, looking up at you like he hadn’t really thought it through—like his body had moved before his brain caught up.

But the way his thumbs brushed over your waist? That didn’t feel accidental. It felt like memory. Like longing.

You swallowed hard, breath shallow. 

This had to be the alcohol. It had to be.

“You need water. And then I can drive you home,” you said, trying to get whatever this was back on track. Your voice was calm, careful, like speaking too loud might tip the moment into something you couldn’t come back from.

But he shook his head. Slow. Stubborn. “I want to be here,” he murmured, leaning forward until his forehead pressed against your shoulder. 

“Please.”

It was one word, but it landed heavy.

You didn’t move. Didn’t even know what to say—not that it mattered. Because once AJ opened that door, whatever was behind it came spilling out, like he didn’t know how to stop it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he said, breath warm against your skin as he turned slightly, his mouth near your neck now. “For everything.”

You felt his fingers twitch just barely at your sides, but you stayed still—your hands resting gently on his shoulders.

“I know I fucked up,” he said, lifting his head to look at you, eyes heavy with regret. 

“I shouldn’t have said any of that shit. I didn’t mean it, and you didn’t deserve it. I’m sorry.”

Your breathing faltered, and you tried to keep it steady. Even. But your heartbeat only grew louder with every second you stayed in his lap.

You swallowed the knot in your throat, the words fighting to rise.

When you finally spoke, it was quiet, but clear.

“I just don’t understand why,” you said, eyes searching his face for something—anything—that would make it all make sense. “If there was something wrong… or even someone else… you could’ve just told me.”

That would’ve been easier. That kind of hurt had a name. A shape. You could have dealt with it. Would have.

But he didn’t let the thought hang. He shook his head firmly. “No,” he said, voice rough but sure.  “I haven’t been with anyone else. Not since you.”

The words hit you harder than you expected.

It was a confession. A real one. You could feel it in the way his grip on your hips tightened the smallest amount. Could hear it in his tone—how serious he suddenly was. How fast he wanted to shut that door before it could open.

Your lips parted, but the only thing that came was your next question, the one that had been clawing at the back of your mind for too long.

“Then why did you?” you asked.

Your voice was quieter now. Less fire, more ache. Because underneath everything, this was the only thing that mattered.

He paused, and you honestly thought that was it. That this was where the wall would go back up. You watched his face closely, waiting for the shutdown—eyes dropping, mouth tightening, the usual deflection.

But then—

He let out a breathy sound, something caught between a sigh and a laugh. It was quiet, hollow around the edges, and his gaze dropped to the floor like he hated what he was about to say. He rubbed a hand over his face before finally looking back at you.

“There was this moment during the last job…” he started, voice deep and raspy, like this had been sitting on him for a while. “Your comms went out. I don’t know if it was signal, interference—whatever. Either way, I don’t even think you noticed."

Your brow furrowed, the memory slow to return. You remembered the static, the brief silence, but nothing that had felt urgent at the time.

“I thought something happened to you.” His eyes flicked away again, jaw tensing. “Just for a minute.”

He took another breath, slower this time, and when he looked at you again, his voice was softer. “Then I realized you had covered John. You moved out of position for him. Which… I mean, anyone would’ve done it. I know that. I do. And I should’ve just been glad you were okay.”

His words hung in the air, suspended like he didn’t want to say the rest out loud. And he didn’t have to.

“You were worried about me?” you asked, your voice low, careful.

“Yeah,” he said. Just that. But the way he swallowed hard after, the way his hands flexed slightly where they rested on your hips—it said the rest. Worried wasn’t even the beginning of it.

And that was when it clicked.

All of it.

The distance. The anger. The way he lashed out after the job, throwing around accusations that had no logic behind them. You’d thought he was being cold, jealous, careless. But that wasn’t it.

He’d been scared.

Terrified, in fact.

Because for one split second, when he lost your voice in his ear and couldn’t find you in the mess of it all, he thought you were hurt or worse. And when he saw where you’d gone—covering someone else, putting yourself in danger—it didn’t register as loyalty. It didn’t even register as bravery.

It just registered as loss.

You made him feel something too deep. Too real. And he didn’t know how to carry that.

That’s what this had always been about.

“I was a coward, I know,” he said, the words coming out thick. “Throwing insults like that, like it would undo anything. Like if I said enough bullshit, it would cover up what I really felt.”

He paused, his jaw flexing briefly. “It was wrong. I was wrong. And I’m sorry.”

Your chest tightened, the sting creeping in behind your eyes. You blinked fast, trying to will the tears back.

Then he spoke again.

“And to answer your question,” he said, voice lower now, rougher—like it scraped on the way out. “I didn’t take the money because… I—” He stopped, just for a breath, just long enough to find the words and force them forward.

“I can’t do that to you,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to take from you. That’s not who you are to me.”

And while it might’ve seemed simple on the surface, you knew it wasn’t.

You were takers. That was the life. That was the code. You took because it was what you did—what he’d done for years. AJ lived by it, breathed it, built his entire world around it. Hookups, heists—whatever served the mission or the moment. He took without hesitation, without apology. And he was good at it.

But now, he had drawn a line. 

And that line was you.

The tears came then.

Not all at once. Just one at first, slipping down your cheek in silence.

He leaned into you again, resting his head against your chest—tentative and cautious, like he wasn’t sure if he’d be allowed to stay there.

You didn’t stop him. Instead, your hand moved on instinct, fingers running gently through his hair.

For the first time in weeks, you believed him. Or at least… you wanted to.

But the other part of you, the bruised and bitter side, wasn’t done. That part of you wanted to know how much of this was real. How much would survive the alcohol, the night, the morning after.

Your fingers began to slow. Thoughts creeping back in, one after another, until the questions started stringing together. Too many of them. The kind without easy answers.

“Whatever it is, just ask,” he said, the edges of sleep and alcohol softening his voice. He didn’t even lift his head. Didn’t need to.

“How did you know—”

“You pause before you ask a question,” he murmured, breath steady against your skin. “Almost every time.”

That stopped you.

Even now—out of it, worn down to the bone—he could still read you. Still knew your pauses, your patterns, your tells. Always observant, to his core. And it twisted something deep inside you. Something that hadn’t gone quiet, no matter how hard you tried to silence it.

Because you knew him too. Just as well. Maybe better than he was ready to admit.

Your voice came quiet. “I want to believe you,” the words slipping out, unfiltered. Honest. Raw. “But you’re drunk. Very drunk at that. So how am I supposed to know that it’s real?”

He lifted his head from your chest, eyes settling on yours—steady, despite the haze that clung to him. His brows drew together slightly, and for a moment he just looked at you. Really looked at you, like he wanted to make sure you didn’t miss a single word of what came next.

“Then I’ll tell you again first thing in the morning,” he said, voice low, slurred at the edges but certain. “And a hundred times after that. However many times you need me to.”

You stared at him, unsure if the pounding in your chest was relief or fear or something else entirely.

Because all you saw was him—stripped down and bare in a way he rarely let himself be. No armor. No act. Just AJ, sitting there in front of you, asking for one more chance to be believed.

You wanted to give in. Let the doubts go. Pretend the past few weeks hadn’t happened—forget the silence, the fights, the way he made you feel like an afterthought. Erase every moment you spent wondering if you ever really mattered.

But you couldn’t do that. Not yet.

Not when the bruises he left weren’t gone. Not when the words he said still echoed in places you hadn’t even realized were tender.

So instead, you nodded—soft, gentle.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you whispered, voice warmer now as your fingers brushed lightly against his jaw.

His mouth twitched, the beginning of a smile tugging at the corner like that old smirk wanted to make an appearance. But even it seemed to know better. It faded before it could fully form.

And that was where you left it. Not forgiven. Not forgotten. But maybe—just maybe—a beginning.

please do not repost, copy, or claim my work as your own.

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links: masterlist

[luckyroll3]

Thank You, Daddy Chapter 6

Masterlist and Summary

Previous Chapter

Warnings: This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only. Includes explicit sexual content, graphic language, sex work, power dynamics, daddy kink, possessive behavior, etc. Author chooses to not extensively tag in order to preserve some elements of storytelling.

Word Count: 11,612

Additional warnings: Talk about death, domestic violence and physical abuse.

A/N: Meant to post this yesterday, but currently at a conference. Enjoy!

The following weeks dissolve into a blur of intensity and confusion. You find yourself foregoing your time away from Christopher, your boundaries blurring like watercolors running together. What was once a structured arrangement (four days a week, your own space, no emotional entanglements) becomes something murkier, more consuming.

The following month, you accompany Christopher, Hyunjin, and Hyunjin’s “friend”, as he referred to her as, Rebecca, to a finance conference in Paris via a private jet. Christopher has been keen to keep you close, almost neglectfully doting in the way he assumes you'll follow effortlessly into his world. 

The four of you board the jet. With his hand possessively on the small of your back, he gives you a knowing look before taking a phone call and finding a seat towards the back to talk in private. You hesitate, wanting to give him his space, until Hyunjin waves you over to where he and Rebecca are already comfortably settled. You take a seat with the two of them at the small table near the front.

Hyunjin looks more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him, almost like he belongs here. The flight attendant pours each of you a glass of champagne, and Rebecca gives an exaggerated, thrilled squeal that makes you almost choke on your drink.

“My first time on a PJ! Ooh, thank you for inviting me Jinnie!” She leans over, planting a kiss on his cheek that's as loud as it is theatrical. He tolerates it with a smirk, his eyes meeting yours over the rim of his glass. There’s mischief there, a small conspiratorial spark that you have come to adore.

Rebecca turns to you eagerly. “Is it your first time too, Noelle?” Her question is curious, innocent in the way that only the truly sheltered can be. Her eyes are wide, and you can practically see them sparkle as she waits for your answer.

“No it isn’t,” you reply smoothly, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. You take a sip of champagne, hiding the humor in your eyes. “But the first time is always exciting.” The memory of your actual first time flashes in your mind. On the job at 19 with a forty-something-year-old john taking a “business” trip to South Beach. He had fucked you in the bathroom, inaugurating you into the mile high club. You don’t share that part. Instead, you toast to Rebecca’s inaugural flight with a lift of your glass, enjoying her youthful exuberance and the way it makes you realize how far you’ve come.

As Rebecca excuses herself to use the bathroom, you turn to Hyunjin with a curious expression and ask, "Is she...?"

"A pro? No, not at all," Hyunjin replies, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Although with the things she can do with her tongue, she should be." His grin is infectious, and you can't help but smile back.

"Where'd you find her? At the playground?" you joke, and Hyunjin bursts into a hearty laugh that fills the space.

"No," he manages to say between chuckles. "The intern pool."

"Ah, so she's in college," you deduce, a hint of surprise in your voice.

"She's a senior," Hyunjin confirms, nodding. "Not that much younger than you."

"I may only be twenty-five," you muse, reflecting on your own life experiences, "but I've been a forty-year-old for most of my life. So that makes me older than you." Hyunjin throws his head back, his laughter ringing out like a melody.

Rebecca returns, sliding gracefully back into the seat beside Hyunjin. Her presence seems to light up the room. "What's so funny?" she inquires, a playful curiosity in her eyes.

Hyunjin slips his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "Nothing, doll," he assures her with a wink. "Let's get you another drink."

The flight to Paris is smooth, luxurious, and entirely surreal. Christopher joins you after his call, pulling you into his lap with the kind of easy confidence that has Rebecca gasping and giggling again. You play along, letting him kiss you in front of the others, your arms draped around his neck in a show of affection that feels both genuine and practiced. You catch Hyunjin watching the two of you, his expression thoughtful.

The arrival in Paris is a whirlwind of black cars, designer luggage, and the flash of paparazzi at the edge of the airport. Christopher keeps you anchored to his side, his hand on your hip as if to ward off any unwanted attention. You find yourself reassured by it, even as it reminds you of the things Julia said. He texts and calls through the entire ride to the hotel, making arrangements with the precision of a military operation. When you finally arrive, it’s to a suite so expansive it could house an entire family, or the kind of party you’re sure Hyunjin will arrange by the end of the night.

Between the luxury hotel suite and exclusive parties, you start to see more of Christopher than you thought you would on this trip. There’s the way his gaze softens when he thinks you're not looking and the quiet moments of introspection when he shares parts of himself he'd never expose to anyone else.

Late one night, you stand on the balcony in your lingerie, picked out by him of course, and watch the Eiffel Tour start to sparkle. You’re caught off guard when you feel a blanket being placed around your shoulders.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Christopher says as he rubs your shoulders beneath the fabric. “You were shivering.” He kisses your neck.

You pull the blanket tighter around your chest. “I didn’t notice.” You turn your gaze back to the light show as Christopher hugs you from behind.

“Are you having fun?” he asks softly against your ear.

“I am. I had a great time accompanying Rebecca on her shopping spree. Hyunjin actually gave her his credit card. He’s a brave man.” The memory of Rebecca purchasing everything her eyes landed on makes you laugh.

Christopher chuckles, his grip around you tightening playfully. “I’ll be sure to have oxygen on hand for when he sees the bill.” He kisses you beneath your ear. “What did you get?”

“A book.”

“Just a book? That’s it.”

“Not just any book. A first edition of The Story of O.”

His lips curve into a knowing grin. “Interesting.”

“Why is that ‘interesting’?” You twist to face him, eyes narrowing suspiciously. He’s still smirking, his dimples prominent.

“Themes of submission, objectification, and the role of identity,” he replies with a teasing air. “Are you drawing parallels between our current arrangement and the story?”

“You’re the one drawing parallels,” you shoot back, raising an eyebrow at him. “I saw the opportunity to get a rare edition, in the original language, of a book I couldn’t get enough of in my teens.”

“Pretend all you want, Baby Girl,” he chuckles, utterly unfazed by your deflection. He pulls you closer, mouth brushing against your cheek as his voice drops low, seductive. “But you know how that story ends. She starts to crave it,” he whispers, every word a deliberate tease against your skin, each syllable chipping away at the front you've been trying to maintain.

“Whatever, Chris,” you shoot back, defiantly using his nickname. It has the desired effect, earning another rumbling laugh from him. After a short silence, you ask softly, “What was your favorite book as a kid?”

He stills, his expression shifting from playful to something unexpectedly serious. You think he might brush off your question, but instead he looks out at the city, a thoughtful crease forming between his brows. “The Little Prince.” His voice is softer now, like he’s remembering something from a lifetime ago.

“A prince and his fox,” you say with a gentle nudge. “I’d have pegged you for more of a Gatsby guy.” You look back at him.

“I loved that one too,” Christopher admits, his eyes meeting yours with an openness that catches you off guard. “But The Little Prince was my favorite before everything else got complicated.”

You study him, trying to reconcile this new side of Christopher with the man you thought you knew. Before you can stop yourself, you ask, “When did it get complicated?”

He hesitates, then lets out a breath that sounds almost like a surrender. “When my dad lost his job and his drinking got worse.” There’s an uncharacteristic vulnerability in his voice, and it makes your chest tighten in a way that's both thrilling and terrifying. You reach up and back to cup his cheek before you kiss it gently. He sighs softly at the touch.

You turn back to face the skyline. “Any others?” you ask quietly, shifting the conversation back to the safety of books.

“Grimms' Fairy Tales,” he says after a moment. “My grandfather gave me an antique edition when I was six.”

You turn to face him, curiosity piqued. “Fairy tales. Really?”

“Really,” he said with a smile.

“An antique edition… so that means more of the original, disturbing, bloody ass versions.”

“I was obsessed with all those dark little stories.” He sounds almost amused. “Red Riding Hood, Rapunzel, Cinderella, Hansel & Gretel,” he says, naming some of the more common stories. “But also The Juniper Tree, The Robber Bridegroom, Fitcher’s Bird,” he adds, these ones some of the more gruesome tales.

You try to imagine him as a child, buried in fantastical worlds where the endings aren’t always happy or pretty, and it’s surprisingly easy. “What did you like about them?”

Christopher hesitates, then shrugs lightly, as if embarrassed by the admission. “The heroes and villains were always clearly defined. It made things... simple.”

Simple. The word hangs between you like a challenge, reminding you of everything not simple about this thing between you. You push forward anyway, wanting to know more.

“And now?” You press gently.

He looks at you with an intensity that’s softened only by the glint of humor in his eyes. “Now I think the best stories are the ones with the endings you don’t see coming.” His hand moves up your back slowly, possessively, making you shiver despite the warmth of the blanket.

You lean into him again, resting your head against his chest, letting yourself enjoy the closeness, enjoying even more that he’s let you in just a little bit more than before. “Have any other favorites I should know about?”

“Maybe I’ll show them to you sometime,” he murmurs against your hair.

You look up at him, surprised by how much you’ve started to want that. “I’d like that,” you whisper, your words almost lost in the space between you. His smile is languid, savoring the moment, the dimples deepening as his hand slides up to your neck, the touch possessive and gentle all at once. He leans down, capturing your lips in a slow, heady kiss that leaves no room for doubt about how much he wants you to be a part of his story. You melt into him, losing yourself in the heat of his mouth and the way his hands pull you closer, your body flush against his in a way that makes you forget everything but the two of you here in this moment. The kiss stretches out, indulgent and consuming, until you feel it might undo you entirely.

“Oh my god!” Rebecca’s voice shatters the moment as she bursts onto the balcony in her signature whirlwind fashion, pulling Hyunjin behind her.

Rebecca doesn't notice her intrusion at all, not the slightest inkling of the moment she's broken through, and instead lets out a delighted squeal. Even Christopher’s annoyed scowl can't faze her.

“This view! I’m obsessed," she declares, dragging Hyunjin along with her and clutching his arm with a joyous ferocity. Her voice is breathless, spilling over with pure, unfiltered enthusiasm as she pirouettes in a wide-eyed circle. It's contagious, like the energy of a kid who's just discovered the magic of a theme park. “I never want to leave! Isn’t this incredible?” She flops onto one of the chairs while Hyunjin follows with a knowing smile.

Hyunjin's gaze falls on you and Christopher. He offers a whispered, “Sorry,” at you both as he walks towards Rebecca. You just chuckle and pull an annoyed Christopher towards the lounger closest to them. He sits reluctantly, and you settle yourself in between his legs and lean back against his chest.

“Rebecca, baby, you know it’s okay to take a breath,” Hyunjin teases, his voice dripping with amused affection as he sits next to her.

“Sorry. I’m just so excited.” She beams like a ray of sunshine and stares out at the skyline, the Eiffel Tower still shimmering like it’s performing just for her. “This is amazing. It’s so romantic, don’t you think, Noelle?”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up as you tug Christopher’s arms more tightly around you. “Yup. Very romantic,” you say, not missing the way Hyunjin rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He shares an indulgent, knowing glance with Christopher as if to say, How did we get dragged into such theatrics?

Rebecca, ignoring your teasing tone, lets out another high-pitched squeal of pure delight, her energy cranked up to maximum volume. “Isn’t it?” she gushes again, holding both hands to her cheeks like she can’t contain her own excitement.

You shoot Hyunjin a teasing glance. “So what did you two get up to this evening?” you ask, throwing the question back to her and Hyunjin.

Rebecca launches into an animated recounting of their night, every word an exclamation point. “Oh my god, Noelle, we went to this little café on the Seine! It was soooo cute! And then we went bar-hopping all over Saint-Germain!”

You look at Hyunjin with mock disbelief at the energy he must have expended, and he just shrugs, feigning innocence as his eyes sparkle with humor. “Rebecca was very determined," he admits, glancing at her with an expression of both admiration and amusement.

“Determined is one way to put it,” Christopher teases, the corners of his mouth twitching into an unwitting smile.

Rebecca sticks her tongue out at him, unfazed and in full whirlwind mode. “It was great, okay? Not everyone wants to sit around and brood all night.” The statement causes Hyunjin to laugh loudly and Christopher to glare.

You barely have a moment to react before she blasts forward, her enthusiasm as relentless as ever.

“Oh, you know what we have to do tomorrow night? Go dancing!” Rebecca squeals as she claps her hands together. “I’ve heard that Paris late night clubs are amazing.” She pauses just long enough to catch a breath, her eyes wide and pleading.

“I don’t dance,” Chris states simultaneously with Hyunjin’s, “Chris doesn’t dance.”

Rebecca groans dramatically, collapsing back against the seat. “Oh my gawd! Why are old men so boring?” she asks you. “I mean, I practically had to drag Jinnie to the bars tonight,” she says with exasperation.

“We’re not old,” Christopher states, defending himself. “We’re only 32.”

“Old enough!” she shoots back, undeterred. She leans over and pulls Hyunjin’s arm, her persistence unwavering. “Come on, baby. Tell him it’ll be fun. Tell him we have to go.”

Hyunjin looks at Rebecca, now pouting adorably, then at Christopher, and sighs with a resigned smile. “She’ll never let us hear the end of it if we don’t,” he warns, sounding both amused and defeated.

“Damn straight,” Rebecca says, her voice triumphant and filled with anticipation. The determination in her eyes leaves no room for doubt that she’ll get her way.

Christopher raises an eyebrow, his mouth twitching into a reluctant grin. “I suppose we can stop by for a drink,” he concedes. The glint in his eye suggests he knows exactly what he’s getting into but is powerless to resist.

Rebecca squeals, sounding almost victorious. She leans over and plants a kiss on Hyunjin’s cheek, her delight radiating. “You’re the best!” she announces gleefully.

“I know.” Hyunjin gives her an indulgent look. "And I’ll remember that when we’re dead on our feet the next day,” he teases, already anticipating the whirlwind.

She grips his arm tighter, her joy uncontainable. “You’ll love it, I promise!” she beams, certain she’s already won them over.

The following night, The four of you find yourself in the VIP section of one of the hottest clubs in Paris. There’s a pulse to the place, a heartbeat of pure electricity that reverberates through every inch of the underground room. The bass booms in your chest, syncing with the strobe lights that flash above a sea of bodies, each one moving and grinding, lost in the music. Laughter and shouts weave into the heavy, pounding rhythm, creating an intoxicating symphony of sound and energy. The club is alive, and it’s impossible not to get swept up in the high of it all.

Your group is tucked away in a plush corner away from the chaos but still close enough to feel it. Rebecca is practically vibrating with excitement, her face lit up like it’s Christmas morning. She snuggles into Hyunjin’s side and raises a shot glass. “To Paris!” she yells, tilting her head back and downing it in one go. The rest of you join her and Rebecca quickly refills the shot glasses.

Christopher watches you, an amused look on his face. “You might have created a monster,” he says referring to Rebecca, his voice barely audible over the music as you slide onto his lap, a cocktail in hand. You give him a taunting grin and lean back against his chest, stealing a sip of his drink as you do.

“Full credit to Jinnie,” you say with a light laugh before turning your attention to the dance floor, trying to pretend the energy isn’t infectious, trying to play it cool. But Rebecca is up on her feet, grabbing your hand and pulling you to the music before you can protest. You melt into the chaos with her, your bodies moving together in a sensual rhythm, the heat and the crowd like a living, breathing thing around you, trapping you in.

You lose yourself in the moment, spinning and swaying, feeling the burn of Christopher’s gaze even over the pulsing music. Hyunjin comes up behind you, spinning you and Rebecca around with playful ease, and Rebecca lets out an excited holler that gets swallowed up in the noise.

You glance back at Christopher, catching the raw hunger in his eyes as he watches the three of you move. You shoot him a wicked look, brazen and challenging, pulling Hyunjin closer and grinding your body against him as Rebecca dances on him from behind. It’s a taunt, a promise, a test of how long he can bear to just watch. You turn dramatically, facing where Christopher sits and lock eyes with him as you push back on Hyunjin, his crotch bumping against your ass as one of his hands moves up your body and settles around your throat.

Hyunjin leans in close to whisper in your ear. “Well, you certainly know how to get his attention. This will bring him running…” 

Hoping he’s right, you point your finger in Christopher’s direction, then curl it in a come hither motion, a silent dare for him to join.

He rises, your provocative dance with his best friend pushing him over the edge. He doesn’t even look like he’s trying to resist as he pushes through the crowd, charging forward with a determined stride. He is at your side in an instant, slipping his arms around you, pulling you away from Hyunjin and into him, his body hot and unyielding against yours. It’s exactly what you knew he'd do, and you laugh, triumphant and breathless, exulting in your victory. His body feels scorching and solid against yours, and you let yourself get lost as you sink into it, giving in to the wild rhythm of the music and his willing capture.

“Took you long enough, daddy,” you whisper before spinning around. You grind your ass against his crotch, unrestrained, the thumping bass in sync with the raw want heating up between you. His restraint slips away as the length of his body presses against your back, hot and unyielding. Your teasing is clearly working; you feel him getting hard with each wine of your hips, every undulating movement inciting more. His grip on you tightens, and it's clear he's close to losing all control. He spins you around to face him again with a sudden, consuming urgency, and you gasp as you find yourself face to face with the full force of his intensity.

His hands settle on your ass, pulling you flush against him. You’re practically burning up, the tension coiling between you tighter and tighter. You lean in, your lips close to his ear, your breath hot and teasing as you whisper. “So, you do dance,” you taunt, savoring the way it makes him shudder. You lift your arms over your head, a gesture of surrender and enticement all at once. His hands slide up your sides, then your arms, until his fingers intertwine with yours high in the air.

“You look too fucking delicious not to,” he growls into your ear, his voice thick with the kind of desire that makes your limbs weak and your mind go blank with need. He crashes his mouth onto yours, kissing you deep enough to steal your breath. You’re lost, drowning in the heat of him and the music and the searing electricity shooting through you both. He brings your arms down, wrapping them tight around the back of his waist as his kiss grows more desperate, more demanding. You pull back just enough to catch a breath and catch his eye, the hunger there matching your own, a mirror of want reflected back at you.

Your bodies keep moving, your hips rolling together in a rhythm as wild and reckless as the pounding beat around you. His eyes stay locked on yours, drinking you in, as if the sight of you is enough to send him spiraling. It makes your heart race to see him like this, completely, utterly consumed by you. You squeeze his waist with your hands, feeling powerful and victorious, and he just grins at how you're having such a blast, how you’re almost as giddy as Rebecca. You lean back, letting him take in the sight of you, the sight of what he does to you. You play it up, throwing your head back, your hair spilling across your shoulders, and he groans like he can barely handle himself.

With a sudden, fierce urgency, he pulls you back into his orbit, unable to stand any distance between you, his lips claiming yours once more. You answer his need with your own, kissing him hard, your fingers threading into his hair and tugging just enough to drive him insane. His hands are everywhere, relentless. You’re both giddy with it now, like you’ve stumbled into some ecstatic, untamed place where only the two of you exist. You feel drunk on it, dizzy with it, and somewhere in the haze, you breathe out a challenge: “Can you keep up?”

“I guess we’re about to find out,” he replies, his voice rough and full of heat.

You tear yourself away from him, making a path through the crowd, your hand tight around his as you drag him behind you.

You end up in a cramped bathroom stall, his back pressed against the wall and you on your knees fumbling with his belt buckle.

He’s breathing heavy, almost panting, and the look on his face as you free his cock is pure, unguarded want. There’s something about the way he’s looking at you; wild, like he can’t believe you’re real. It lights a fire in your belly.

You take him in your mouth, slow and teasing, your tongue swirling around the head before sliding down, inch by tortuous inch. You engulf him, hot and wet and eager, and he lets out a strangled sound, his hands flying to your hair. It’s frantic from the start, your mouth working him with no hesitation, no restraint, like you’re starving for it. His hips jerk forward as he struggles to keep still, but to no avail. He gives up quickly, thrusting against you, pushing deeper into your throat, losing himself to the slick heat of your tongue and lips. His eyes roll back as you swallow around him, greedily taking everything he has to give.

“Fuck,” he bites out, low and guttural, his fingers tugging hard at your hair. “You’re gonna fucking destroy me.”

You pick up the pace, sucking harder, hollowing your cheeks and taking him deeper until he hits the back of your throat.

You hum around him in response, sending vibrations up his length that have him cursing more under his breath. Your pace is relentless; you want to see him break apart, lose all control the way you know only you can make him do. He groans loud enough that anyone nearby must hear nothing but his pleasure echoing off the walls.

You pull off with a slick pop, just long enough to catch your breath and grin up at him as you pump him with your palm. “This what you had in mind when I dragged you in here?”

He meets your eyes with raw intensity, pupils blown wide in wild arousal. “Hell yes,” he gasps out before you take him back between your lips again.

He feels impossibly hard in your mouth, throbbing with need as you suck him deeper than before. He’s not going to last much longer; the way his hips jerk and muscles clench tells that story loud and clear. It spurs you on, makes you greedy for it—to make him lose it completely.

“Fuck… baby… I’m gonna…” His words dissolve into ragged sounds of bliss as he comes undone for you, hot and desperate down your throat. You swallow every bit of it like a promise kept, savoring the taste of how completely you've unraveled him. You pull away with a satisfied smirk, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb.

When he finally drags you back up to standing, he's still breathing hard, chest heaving as he watches you like you’re some kind of miracle, but already grinning like he can’t believe how good that was. He pins you against the wall this time, kissing you with fierce hunger that leaves no doubt about what he’s planning next.

“You think we’re done?” he says against your lips, still winded but wickedly determined.

You laugh into his mouth and nudge your hips forward where he’s already getting hard again against you. “I think we’ve only just started.”

He spins you around and hikes up your dress all in one swift move that makes you gasp with thrill and anticipation. The fabric pools at your waist as he bends you over slightly, your hands pushing against the metal divider for support, leaving no question about who’s in charge now, or maybe who’s willing to fight for it.

The music pulses through the walls in time with the rush of blood pounding through your veins as he roughly pulls your panties to the side and slides two fingers inside of you without warning or mercy. You moan from sheer sensation, the stretch of them filling you and wetness spilling down across his knuckles; you push back against his hand like nothing else matters except more.

“Look how ready,” he murmurs approvingly near your ear before kissing and nipping along your skin while his fingers work their magic. Suddenly he pulls them away from the dampness.

And then his cock is there, buried deep where those fingers were, with one sure thrust that has both of you groaning. You’re trembling now, breathless from his touch, and wanting more. As he thrusts forcefully, the sensation is blinding, sending jolts of electricity through you that blot out everything else. You don't even care if anyone can hear.

He fucks you like you're the only thing he needs, driving into you with brutal, punishing strokes that make you wild. You're soaked, heat spreading through you, around you, spilling down your thighs and across your skin. You can barely keep track of the slick, frenzied sounds coming from your mouth, breathless and desperate. It's relentless and raw, and you push back to meet his thrusts, riding the edge of ecstasy. The cramped bathroom stall vanishes, the music fades; it's just the two of you chasing something that feels reckless and infinite.

His hands grip tight on your hips, the force of him a promise you'll be feeling this for days. He bends over you, hot breath in your ear, urging you on. The sensation is overwhelming and you can't keep quiet. You're trembling, falling apart, barely able to hold yourself up. You're sure everyone out there knows exactly what you're doing to each other, but it only makes you hungrier for more.

He doesn't let up, can't let up, pounding into you with rough determination that scrambles every thought in your head. You're gone to it, lost to it, needing everything he has and more. Your legs almost give out, but Christopher's body pins you to the wall, holding you in place as he moves. The way he's taking you, as if you'll disappear if he lets up for even a second, has you spinning out of control, frantic and breathless and fucked so thoroughly that you don't think you'll ever come down from it.

"Chris!" His name comes out in a high-pitched cry as heat blooms everywhere inside you and you're lost to it entirely, clutching onto him behind you to keep from buckling under the intensity.

He holds you close through every shuddering wave of release until you're spent and gasping against him.

"You good?" There's amusement in his voice but also tenderness, a softer side that's rare enough to feel precious when it shows itself.

You lean your head back against his shoulder. "Mmm." Your laughter is shaky as it bubbles up past the afterglow haze clouding all rational thought. "Think so."

He kisses your neck, then your cheek. You turn your head to the side to capture his lips.

“That was…” he says in between kisses.

“Yeah,” you finish for him.

You both stand there, Christopher’s arms holding you tight, staring at each other in silence. A few minutes pass by until the sound of someone entering the restroom snaps the two of you out of your trance.

“We should go,” he whispers softly in your ear.

“We should,” you whisper back, but neither of you move.

Eventually, he releases you from his embrace. He turns you around gently to face him, retrieving a few squares of toilet paper to carefully clean the mess he’d left between your legs. His touch is tender as he helps readjust your underwear and smooth your dress back down, ensuring everything is in place before tucking himself back into his pants with a practiced motion.

When the two of you emerge from the stall, the woman standing at the mirror, meticulously applying her lip gloss, pauses to raise a curious eyebrow. Christopher, unfazed, gives her a polite nod, stepping to the sink to wash his hands with a casual ease. You nudge him aside with a playful bump of your hip, claiming his spot at the sink and letting the cool water rush over your fingers. He grins, those familiar dimples deepening, as he dries his hands and offers you a crisp paper towel to do the same. His fingers naturally intertwine with yours, leading you out of the restroom with a confident stride.

You both make your way back to the VIP area, the dim lighting casting an intimate glow over the plush surroundings. Rebecca is perched on Hyunjin’s lap, her lips leaving a trail of kisses along his neck. Hyunjin’s gaze lifts to you and Christopher, a mischievous glint in them. “You’ve been gone for a while,” he remarks, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “Everything good?”

“Everything’s perfect,” Christopher responds, settling into the seat beside Hyunjin. You grab a cold bottle of water from the table before sinking into the plush cushions next to him, letting your body relax against his. His arm wraps around your back, his hand resting comfortably on your hip.

“Perfect, huh?” Hyunjin’s eyes meet yours, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

“Yeah, perfect,” you affirm, taking a refreshing sip from the bottle. You hand it to Christopher, who takes a long drink before passing it back with a satisfied sigh.

“Hmm,” Hyunjin muses, his smirk stretching across his face like a Cheshire cat as he swirls the amber liquid in his glass. He tilts his head back and finishes the whiskey in one swift gulp. “I think we need to get this one home. You ready to go, doll?” he asks, turning his attention to Rebecca, his voice a playful lilt.

Rebecca finally peels her lips away from Hyunjin’s neck, leaving a faint mark behind on his skin. Her eyes flutter as she struggles to keep them open. “I want to stay a little longer,” she protests, her words slurred with exhaustion.

He leans in and plants a soft kiss on her lips, a gentle promise. “How about we head back to the hotel, and I order us a bacon cheeseburger and fries from room service?” he suggests, his voice coaxing.

Rebecca’s face lights up, and she nods eagerly. “That sounds amazing, Jinnie,” she murmurs, almost dreamily.

Hyunjin shifts his gaze to you and Christopher, his eyebrows raised in question. “You two ready?” he asks, the invitation clear.

“Sure,” Christopher replies, nodding.

Ten minutes later, the four of you find yourselves nestled in the plush leather seats of the private SUV as it glides smoothly through the city streets, heading back to the hotel. You and Christopher are situated directly behind the driver, your back comfortably pressed against the cool window, and your legs stretched across Christopher’s lap. His hand idly traces patterns up and down your thigh. In the third row, Hyunjin and Rebecca sit close, with Rebecca’s head resting on Hyunjin’s shoulder, her eyes half-closed yet intently focused on you.

“Noelle,” she murmurs softly, her voice just audible over the quiet hum of the vehicle. You turn your head to meet her gaze. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

A smile curves your lips, warm and genuine. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

She doesn’t let it rest at that. “No, I mean it. You’re gorgeous, and you have a beautiful soul.” Her voice is insistent, imbued with sincerity.

With an unexpected burst of energy, she sits up and leans forward, reaching over the seat. Her lips meet yours with unexpected fervor, her hand cupping your cheek as her tongue softly explores your mouth.

“Woah,” Hyunjin exclaims with a chuckle as Christopher’s lips start to curl at one corner. “That is kind of hot.”

Rebecca pulls back, her lips leaving a tingling echo. “She is hot. Don’t you think, Jinnie?” she teases, eyes dancing with mischief. Without waiting for him to reply, she draws Hyunjin in, her fingers threading through his hair as she kisses him deeply. Then, with a playful push, she directs him toward you.

Hyunjin’s lips meet yours softly, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth gently before his tongue presses insistently against yours. Damn, he’s a good kisser, you think to yourself. You feel Christopher’s hand still on your knee. When you finally pull away from Hyunjin, your breath comes in short, exhilarated bursts.

“Now him,” Rebecca instructs, her smile loose and tipsy, pointing at Christopher. “He’s almost as pretty as you, Jinnie.” She bites the tip of her finger.

A laugh bubbles up in you that you fail to stifle, watching Christopher’s eyes widen in offense. “Almost?!?” he echoes, disbelief mixed with incredulity.

“You heard her right. ‘Almost’ bitch.” Hyunjin’s laughter is infectious as he seizes Christopher’s cheeks between his hands, drawing him into a kiss that’s both playful and charged. You watch as their eyes fall closed, mouths opening to each other, both of them slipping into the moment as their tongues massage against one another’s.

“Oh wow,” you exhale, the words escaping without you realizing as a feeling of warmth spreads through your body. “I think I’m kind of turned on now.” You relax back against the window, your eyes wide with wonder, transfixed by the unexpected yet captivating scene before you.

“Right?” Rebecca agrees, her grin wide with satisfaction, triumphant at the scenario she has orchestrated.

Christopher finally pushes Hyunjin away, a playful grin spreading across his features. “That’s enough of that,” he says gruffly, though the amusement in his eyes betrays his tone.

As Hyunjin leans back with a wicked grin, Rebecca eagerly slides into his lap, straddling him with enthusiasm. “Oh Jinnie, you are so fucking hot," she purrs, her voice sultry and teasing. They begin to kiss passionately, their lips moving together with a fervor that suggests they are lost in their own world.

You nudge Christopher with your foot, drawing his attention back to you. "I think you're just as pretty as Hyunjin," you remark with a playful smirk. Your comment elicits a hearty laugh from Christopher, echoing warmly in the vehicle.

"Thanks," he responds, his voice light and teasing, as he leans down to plant a soft kiss on the top of your knee, a gesture both affectionate and reassuring.

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, your eyes locked on each other, the atmosphere charged with unspoken words. The two of you ignore the sounds of heavy petting, impassioned kissing, muffled giggles, and whispered endearments coming from behind you.

The charged silence hangs between you like a tangible thread as the four of you ride the elevator, each moment stretched with anticipation. Once back in the suite, Hyunjin and Rebecca stagger to their room, their laughter trailing off as the door slams shut behind them with a resounding thud.

You and Christopher walk hand in hand to your own room. As the door clicks shut behind you, Christopher gently draws you close, enveloping you in a passionate, lingering kiss that sends a thrill through your body. His fingers move deftly behind you, unzipping your dress with a practiced ease, while you tug his shirt over his head, revealing the warmth of his skin beneath your touch.

By the time you both reach the bed, clothing lies forgotten on the floor, and you embrace each other in a newfound vulnerability. You and Christopher slip beneath the soft, inviting covers, your lips meeting once again in a zealous reunion.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before,” Christopher whispers softly against your lips.

“Me either,” you reply.

His lips find yours again and the kiss deepens, evolving into an intense makeout session, a dance of lips and tongues where time seems to dissolve. Despite the heat of the moment, neither of you seem eager to break the relaxed, intimate rhythm that has both of you under its spell. Neither of you move to take things further, even as you feel the weight of his body settling more firmly against yours, his bare skin pressing deliciously close. Instead of having sex again, you each savor the closeness and intoxicating intimacy that feels endless. You shift slightly beneath him, running your hands slowly up his back, feeling him shiver at your touch.

“Are we taking it slow tonight?” you ask with a soft chuckle in between kisses.

“Absolutely,” Christopher whispers back.

Lost in each other's presence, you kiss languorously, the world outside fading away. A raw connection unfurls through the endless exchange of kisses and small, teasing bites, building something more powerful than either of you expected. The hours seem to stretch and blend as you explore this tender closeness, until finally, content and entwined, you both drift into a peaceful slumber, wrapped securely in each other's arms.

When the sunlight streams through the window the next morning, you’re still tangled up in each other. Christopher's eyes remain closed, his breathing calm and even, the gentle rise and fall of his chest soothing against your skin. You take a moment to study his face, relaxed and unguarded, and trace a finger along his jawline. There’s an unfamiliar warmth blooming in your chest at the sight.

As you shift slightly, he stirs, tightening his hold around you. “Good morning,” he mumbles, voice heavy with sleep and satisfaction.

“Morning,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips.

He nuzzles against you, pulling you even closer, as if to further erase any of the remaining space between your bodies. The simplicity of the gesture makes your heart clench strangely.

"You look beautiful," he says. His hand slides down over your shoulder, your arm, until it comes to rest on the curve of your waist.

You smile up at him with a mix of playfulness and sincerity that you rarely allow yourself to feel, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours like a drug. “I always do.”

He chuckles, pulling you even closer. The movement presses you against him, and you can feel his morning-wood against your leg. There’s an electric pause where neither of you breathe.

“Last night was a lot of fun,” he comments, his voice thick with morning drowsiness as he shifts against you. His fingers trace idle circles on your skin, setting off small, pleasurable bursts beneath your ribs.

“Which part? The shots, the dancing, the bathroom stall, or the makeout session between you and Hyunjin?” You arch an eyebrow, a wicked grin teasing your lips. “You two have definitely done that before.”

His laughter fills the room, rich and unrestrained, as his head falls back against the pillow. “All of it,” he answers, a broad smile lighting up his features. “Not quite what I expected, but I loved it. You’re full of surprises.” His hand weaves into your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear. The fondness in his eyes is so warm it almost makes you squirm.

“Surprises are my specialty,” you quip, but the words are softer than you intend, filled with a truth you can’t quite hide. “I’m glad you had fun.” Your voice dips with sincerity. “I did too.”

“I really enjoy our time together,” he admits. There’s a rawness in his tone that ignites a small flutter in your chest.  

“I’m glad,” you say again, with more weight this time. Your face is close to his, and you close the distance to kiss the tip of his nose before pulling back to study him. “I enjoy spending time with you too.”

You revel in the rare display of vulnerability that passes between you and him, unguarded and unhurried, like a quiet confession in the early morning light. Usually by this point, he’s slipped his mask back into place, hiding away his vulnerability.

“Can I ask you a question?” You hesitate momentarily, debating if you should break the easy intimacy with the curiosity sparking in you. His thumb brushes reassuringly over your cheek, nudging you on.

His eyebrows furrow with curiosity, revealing a boyish charm you rarely see. “Sure, anything,” he replies.

“Why don’t you like people calling you Chris?” You voice the thought you’ve had for a while, surprised that you haven’t asked him sooner. The question feels almost silly, considering the other extremely personal things he’s already shared and the deeper wonders that have been swirling in your mind. But you want to continue getting to know him, and the lightness of the question is perfect for this moment.

His body tenses slightly, the easy warmth in his expression shifting as he considers your question. You expect his usual deflection, the mask, but after a moment, he surprises you.

“I never liked it,” he says finally, his voice low and careful. “Chris.” He pauses, as if testing the name on his tongue. “It’s what my dad called me when he was alive, when he was trying to be nice or wanted something. And because I hated him, hated how he treated us, especially my mom, I didn’t want anyone outside my family, outside of who I trusted implicitly to have the privilege of calling me that.”

The sincerity and weight of his words hang between you. It feels like you’ve stumbled blindly into something precious but fragile.

“Oh,” you say softly, feeling the depth of what he’s sharing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

He shakes his head, silencing your apology with a hint of a smile. “It’s okay,” he assures you, and there’s a slight vulnerability in his eyes that makes your heart clench. “I don’t talk about him much.” Another pause, but this one is charged with meaning as his hand unconsciously grazes the scar on his shoulder; the one his dad gave him. “Or ever.”

“Thank you for telling me,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. You lean in closer, offering comfort with your presence rather than words.

His grip on you tightens again, pulling you into the solid warmth of his body. “Somehow you make it easy,” he murmurs into your hair, his breath hot against your scalp. “I somehow find myself telling you all sorts of things I normally wouldn’t.”

You want to respond in kind, to share something equally personal in return, but instead you find yourself silent, savoring this unexpected moment of openness. His candor about something so private leaves you exposed in a way that makes the walls inside you crumble even more than they already have.

Christopher leans back slightly to look at you again, studying your face with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. There’s an unspoken understanding passing between you now, an acknowledgment of how far you've both come from where all of this started. “You can call me Chris if you want.”

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Thanks for the permission, but I already do,” you tease lightly, breaking the heaviness in the room. Chris smiles slowly, a mix of amusement and genuine fondness lighting up his face, as if he’s delighted by your sass.

Before either of you can say more, the muffled sound of giggles bursts in from the adjacent room, followed by a crash. “Sounds like they’re up,” you remark dryly.

Christopher groans into your neck. “Do we have to be?”

You laugh softly, running your fingers through his hair, surprised that the usual early bird is dodging his morning routine. “Not yet. Not if you don’t want to be.”

Content with the answer, he rolls on top of you, pinning you beneath him without breaking contact, capturing your mouth with his before you can say anything else smart. The kisses are languid and lazy, a delicious morning haze that neither of you is in a hurry to leave.

Incapable of resisting, Christopher’s hands begin to wander slowly down your side, tracing over your curves until they reach the swell of your hips. He shifts against you meaningfully, and you're suddenly aware of how hard he is against your thigh.

“What happened to going slow?” you tease breathlessly.

His smirk is wicked when he finally lifts his eyes to meet yours. “We went slow all night, remember?”

You hum thoughtfully as his mouth trails over your throat and shoulder, the warmth of him igniting every nerve. “True.”

“I can’t help it,” he murmurs into your skin. “There’s something about you that drives me crazy.”

“That so?” You arch into him as he slides over you deliberately.

“Mmm.” His lips seize yours again with renewed intensity, hungry now, but still somewhat tender, savoring every inch of your skin as if he’s memorizing it with his mouth. You gasp when he nips at your neck before soothing it with his tongue. The heat between you is almost overwhelming after last night’s slow burn.

You tug at his hair, yanking him back up to meet your gaze. “I want…”

He doesn’t let you finish the thought before he slides inside you with one powerful thrust that rips the words from your throat and replaces them with a moan.

“Ohhh…”

“I know what you want,” he growls into your ear, moving within you with an intensity that makes everything else fall away except this, this feeling that consumes and unravels and binds and frees all at once.

Your nails rake down his back as he drives deeper, matching him movement for movement until every part of you sings with pleasure that's raw and uninhibited and leaves no room for pretense or doubt or fear because right now in this moment it's just pure desire breathing through both of you like fire.

The next hour is spent in blissful oblivion: rolling sheets and tangled limbs; whispered names and promises; gasped curses and heated confessions lost in moans.

Everything builds to a shuddering climax, the orgasm hitting you fast and hard, making the world explode white behind your eyes while Christopher groans deep in his chest and follows you over the edge seconds later. Both of you are left trembling and breathless in its aftermath.

Christopher collapses onto his side next to you, panting and sweaty and more perfectly gorgeous than anyone should be allowed to be this early in the morning without coffee.

“Wow,” is all he manages after a moment where neither of you can do much more than breathe.

You turn toward him lazily, still catching your breath as well. “Yeah. Wow.” It’s not often that sex feels like that for you, like something more than just physical.

A comfortable silence stretches between you, the kind that only comes after hours of tangled sheets and whispered confessions. It feels like a secret the two of you share, something intimate and just yours. You sigh contentedly, your fingers grazing the hard lines of Christopher's chest. Eventually, his hand clasps yours and holds it against his heart.

The door creaks open suddenly, shattering the fragile tranquility, and Hyunjin sticks his head through with a mischievous grin. “How about some breakfast, lovebirds?"

Christopher groans in annoyance, but you can see the fondness in his eyes even as he feigns irritation. Your mouth twists into a smirk at the sound of Hyunjin's voice.

“Already enjoyed a ‘breakfast’ in bed, thank you very much,” you call back, making a point to sound breathless and satisfied.  

Hyunjin rolls his eyes dramatically. “I could tell. I think the two of you woke up the entire floor with all that racket.”  

Chuckling, you shake your head at the teasing. “Sorry we interrupted your beauty sleep, Jinnie!” you sing back at him, unable to resist adding, “As if you need it. By the way, there’s something on your neck.” You gesture towards the monkey bite Rebecca has left behind on his skin. Christopher laughs, his chest shaking under your cheek, and Hyunjin huffs for dramatic effect as he slaps a palm across his neck to cover the mark.

"Yeah, yeah,” he responds. “You owe me for putting up with that soundtrack.”

Christopher lets out a groan. “Get lost,” he mutters, suddenly launching a pillow at Hyunjin's head, pretending to be more annoyed than he is.

Hyunjin catches it with ease and tosses it back at you. “If you’re done fucking, we’re planning on going to the champagne brunch in an hour.” He winks and shuts the door.

“What an ass,” you say with a laugh.

“Always,” Chris replies. “The two of you seem… friendly.” 

“We are. He eats breakfast with me several times a week, unlike you. You got a problem with that?” 

“Not at all. It’s just that he rarely likes the women I bring around.” He looks down at you. “Shower?”

“God yes,” you reply, desperately needing to get the scent of club and sex off of you. He smiles and kisses your forehead before throwing the sheets off your bodies.

He grabs your hand and the two of you walk to the bathroom. As he turns on the shower, you stop to look at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Your hair is wild and lips swollen from the night before. You love the sight.

Christopher’s eyes follow yours to the mirror. "Still beautiful," he says. He kisses your neck and guides you into the shower.

As the two of you stand under the extravagant rain showerhead, washing each other’s bodies in the steamy cascade, you think about how close you and Christopher have gotten in such little time. Despite his initial emotional coldness, it’s surprising how well you seem to know him now and him you, how much his presence has started to feel like a part of you. A smile tugs at your lips, more honest and unguarded than it has been in a long time, because for the first time in years you’re happy, really happy, without reservations or second guesses. You run your fingers through his hair, water beading down his face as he watches you with that possessive affection that used to irk you when this all began. Now it fills you with unexpected joy.

This feeling continues into month five, deepening as the two of you grow even closer and sink further into each other’s lives, your connection evolving into something that feels more unguarded and natural every day. It’s astonishing to you how, despite everything, you’ve come to really know each other, and how intense the need for more has become.

You learn about the people who matter to him, the things that drive him, the insecurities underneath his confident exterior that he doesn’t bother to hide from you anymore. He gets to know you in all the same ways, and maybe in some ways you never knew yourself.

You’re outside, sitting at the edge of the pool in Christopher’s backyard. It’s early evening, and the water reflects the first few stars appearing in the Los Angeles sky. The air is warm with a slight breeze, and you can smell the faint scent of jasmine from somewhere nearby. Your feet dangle in the water as you hold your phone against your ear, listening to your mother talk on the other end of the line.

“…so I told him, ‘If you think I’m letting you touch my gardenias after what happened last time, you’re out of your mind,’” she says. Her voice is full of energy, her laugh bright and infectious.

You find yourself smiling. “Poor kid.”

“Poor nothing,” she replies with a snort. “He’s lucky to be alive after that stunt.”

“This is why you need to hire an actual gardener, not Kyle from across the street.”

“I like Kyle. He’s a cute kid. Plus I know his family can use the money.” There’s a pause, delicate but not awkward, before she continues more softly. “Thank you for remembering today.”

“Yeah, Mom." Your voice is soft, tinged with a concern you can only partially conceal. “Of course I remembered.” You swirl your feet absently through the water, watching the ripples disturb the surface. “Three years is a big deal.”

Christopher steps out onto the patio, his silhouette tall and familiar against the dusky sky. He crosses to where you’re sitting and bends to kiss your neck in greeting before settling beside you, rolling up his pants to dip his feet in too.

“Well,” your mother says after a beat. “You know I’m not one to turn down attention or gifts, especially not gifts, but it does feel nice to have you make a fuss. The jacket is beautiful.”

You take a moment to reflect on how different things are now compared to three years ago, then smile into the phone.“I’m glad you like it. I got it in Paris. I knew it would look amazing on you as soon as I saw it.”

“It looks expensive though. You know you don’t have to spend your money on me.”

“Of course I do. Who else am I gonna spoil?”

“Well I’m still waiting on my grandkid….”

“Mom.” You don’t know how many times you’ve told her you’re not interested in having kids.

“What? An old woman can dream.”

“You just turned 50. You are not an old woman.”

“I’m starting to feel like one…”

“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want me to come out there?” You can almost see her dismissive wave, even from the other side of the country. “I can be there in a couple days. Maybe even tomorrow.”

“I’m doing fine, sweetheart,” she insists, her voice as unwavering as you remember it from when you were a kid. “You don’t need to worry about me.” She pauses, and when she speaks again, her tone shifts to something warmer. “Just promise me that wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, that you’re happy.” The statement hangs between you, unspoken but understood. It makes you glance over at Christopher; he’s watching you closely, his eyes soft as they meet yours.

The truth is that for once you are. Happy in a way that feels terrifying but real. You think of Christopher, his touch, the way he makes this life feel like something more than just survival.

"I am," you say finally, the sincerity in your voice surprising even you.

“Good, baby. You deserve to be happy. My beautiful, number one daughter.”

"I’m your only daughter," you say with a smile, making her laugh. “I love you.”

There’s a pause on her end, then she sighs softly into the phone. "Love you too," she says before ending the call.

Christopher raises an eyebrow inquisitively. "Your mom?” You nod. “How is she?" His voice is gentle but interested.

"Good," you reply, stretching out beside him so that your shoulder brushes against his. "Really good. Better than I expected." You slip your hand into his and squeeze it lightly, leaning back on one arm as you look up at the night sky. "She sounds happy."

"Doesn't surprise me," Christopher says thoughtfully, tracing circles on your palm with his thumb. "She has every reason to be."

"Yeah," you agree quietly. "Three years."

He nods and looks away toward some distant point across the pool. He knows exactly what day it is and what it means; three years since her cancer went into remission. He’s always known these things about you; even before things got personal between you two, he paid attention in ways others never did.

You turn slightly so that you're facing him more fully now. You study his profile for a moment, his strong jawline silhouetted against fading light, close enough to see how vulnerability has softened some of his harder edges lately. You catch something flicker across his face; his expression makes words spill from your lips before you've given them much thought: "Was it hard for you? After your mom?"

The question hangs between you like an echo before sinking deep enough into silence that he turns back toward you slowly. He hesitates for just a moment before turning to look at you, answering in a voice that's lower than usual, a voice reserved only for these rare confessions late at night or early mornings when neither one of you can sleep because there’s just too much inside of both of you now.

"It will be six years in a few months." You can hear the tightness in his voice, that old ache still so present even after all this time. He swallows hard and looks back out across the water. There’s tension working its way through every muscle along his neck and shoulders, an intensity that makes him seem almost fragile despite the calm face he puts on for you. The flatness of his expression doesn’t fool you. Not anymore. Not after spending almost every single day with him over the past five months. You know him too well, know how to read the smallest inflections in his eyes and voice, how to see the vulnerability underneath.

You squeeze his hand to remind him you’re there, to tell him you’re listening even if you don’t say it. He lets out a small breath like he’s trying to exhale some of the grief he's kept inside for six years, and his body eases next to yours. It’s a different kind of intimacy, this sharing of silence, of things that don’t have to be put into words for you to understand them.

He had mentioned his mom’s death nonchalantly two months ago, when you were making a gift box to send to your mom for mother’s day. You’d asked if he was ordering something for her, if he wanted you to help put something together, not realizing. “My mom died a few years ago,” he had said before kissing you on the forehead and walking out the room. He’d never said how or when, and you never asked.

"Car accident," he continues, almost like he's reading your mind. "Out of nowhere. One minute everything was fine, and then..." You watch the way the fingers of his free hand flex and clench in his lap, restless with a need for control even as he talks about losing it entirely. "Nothing I could do. It all happened so fast." He pulls his feet from the water and crosses his legs before resting his elbows on his knees, his body folding in on itself like it's too much to contain.

You reach for him, your fingers brushing his arm. He doesn’t pull away but doesn’t look at you either.

"I couldn’t stop it," he continues, a raw edge creeping into his voice. "I couldn't save her." His jaw sets with a familiar stubbornness, but there's something like gratitude in his eyes when he finally looks back at you. "She was gone before I even got to the hospital."

The starkness of his words hits you both, the first time he's voiced this out loud, the first time he's let himself feel anything this deeply in front of you. You see how deeply this has scarred him. It reveals another layer to him, another reason for why he is the way he is; this one thing he couldn't control, couldn't prevent even with the wealth he had amassed. There was nothing he could do to save her life, so now he tries to control what he can. You see how it’s shaped everything, this man who needs to possess and dictate every part of his life because the alternative is unbearable.

"I'm sorry," you say, moving closer. You're not sure what else to say, not when this is so much bigger than anything words can contain. You lean your head against his shoulder instead, offering comfort through touch rather than sentiment.

He lets out a shaky breath that feels more like surrender than relief. "I should have been with her that night," he says after a long pause filled only by the occasional ripple across water. “I was supposed to have dinner with her, but my meeting was running long and I cancelled. Rescheduled for lunch the following day.” The guilt in those words makes your heart clench tight enough that it almost hurts, the way he blames himself for something beyond anyone's control except maybe fate itself. "No one saw it coming," he says as if trying to convince himself. "There was nothing I…"

"Chris,” you say, cutting him off gently, but firmly, your voice catching with emotion as you struggle to find words that fit the moment. You tighten your grip on his hand like you're afraid he'll slip away if you don’t hold on tight enough. "You couldn't have done anything."

There's a beat where you think he might push back against this truth, might retreat behind those careful walls again because it hurts too much not to, but instead something breaks in him all at once with a shuddering breath that’s almost a sob.

He turns toward you, looking into your eyes, searching for something neither one of you can name, before closing his eyes and whispering, "I miss her." Then he lets out everything he's been holding inside: grief and loss and guilt and love tangled together so tightly that they unravel into tears before your eyes.

You watch as years worth of restraint slip from him, dissolving under grief still fresh enough to leave jagged edges. You’ve never seen him like this before, completely undone, and it cuts through every defense you've spent years building around yourself.

His head drops into his hands as emotions crash over him, leaving him unguarded and vulnerable in a way that makes your heart ache with equal parts hurt and hope.

You reach for him instinctively, ignoring the voice inside telling you not to get too involved because your heart isn’t meant for this kind of risk, and pull him close. Then he's folding forward into your lap without warning or shame; breath hitching against your stomach while tears soak through fabric onto skin beneath until they're indistinguishable from heat rising up between both bodies now pressed close together under the night sky. You wrap him in your arms with nothing between his pain and your comfort.

“Shh,” you murmur into his hair as he clings to you with an urgency that would have terrified both of you months ago. You hold him tight through each shuddering wave of emotion that follows; hands rubbing slow circles along his tense muscles until they finally begin relaxing under steady pressure. “It’s okay.”

His shoulders shake under your touch, each ragged breath a reminder of how deep these wounds still run even after all this time. There are no words left for either one of you now; what's happening here doesn’t belong in language or logic or contracts written on paper—it exists somewhere beyond all those things where everything is raw but real.

It feels eternal at first, the two of you suspended together outside the world, but gradually Christopher's breathing steadies against you as reality seeps back into focus around edges softened by tears neither one ever expected.

"I'm sorry," he whispers finally into the quiet space between heartbeats. His voice sounds different than usual: less certain; more alive because it dares expression despite fear holding so much else hostage until now.

He holds you tighter like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he doesn’t, burying his face into the crook of your neck, unable to look at you. Unable to face you, as though he’s ashamed for letting the grief swallow him whole, ashamed for losing control, ashamed for showing you how deep his scars really go. You’ve never seen him like this before, so raw and human, without the armor of confidence and power he usually wears like a second skin.

"For what?" You tilt his chin up slightly so that he has no choice but to meet your eyes, pouring everything you can’t quite say into that look, telling him without a word that he has nothing to be sorry for, that you’re not going anywhere. You want him to feel it as deeply as he feels his guilt, to know that you’re as in this as he is, that you’re not afraid of his scars, his grief, or any of his emotions.

His eyes search yours, looking for the truth in them, and you feel the moment he finds it. Tension releases from his body like a tightly coiled spring finally unwinding; it spreads like a wave, leaving him pliant and unguarded. You know how rare this is, this surrender, and you can hardly believe it’s you who’s inspired it. You’ve spent years keeping your own heart under lock and key, barricading doors and imagining yourself safe from the kind of emotions that have always promised more risk than reward. But now here you are, tilting his face to yours while everything around you grows sharp and clear and terrifyingly beautiful.

A strange, unwelcome thought niggles at the back of your mind, that Julia was right to warn you, but you shove it aside. She’d never had this with him, had admitted that he’d never been emotionally open with her. What the fuck did she know. 

Right now there’s only Christopher in front of you and the way he holds on tighter, the way he lets you pull him back from the edges of his sorrow and straight into the warmth of the present. He buries his face in the crook of your neck again, and the gesture is so childlike, so sweet, that even you can’t ignore the truths beginning to take shape inside.

You’re starting to care. Really care. More than you ever expected when this began and more than you know how to deal with.

You wonder if he knows. You think maybe he does, that he’s known even before you did and that’s why he’s laid his heart bare here tonight.

You hold each other quietly for the next few minutes, until he finally pulls away and leads you back into the house by the hand for dinner.

You realize you’re cherishing the time the two of you spend together.

You find yourself laughing more, talking more, just being together more as you both give in fully to the pull between you. Sometimes it’s as simple as lying in bed, his fingers tangled in your hair as you doze off against his chest; other times it’s more like a whirlwind, like extravagant dates in cities you’ve never been to before. And every day, despite yourself, you love how normal and real your relationship with him, if that’s even what this is, is starting to feel. 

A/N: They've finally kinda confessed feelings.

What do you think? Keep the comments coming. I really love hearing your thoughts on the story.

Only 3 chapters left.

[asktheritochampion]

FOR THE PERSON BEHIND THIS ACCOUNT:

how'd you get started doing this account? also do you have any advice for someone who's thinking of doing a similar account? /genq

As someone who has run many an ask blog in different fandoms over the years, people asking me for advice in starting their own is something that happens pretty frequently.

Making an ask blog for your favourite character is a great way to explore that character in more depth without needing the narrative of writing a fanfiction, not to mention a super fun way to interact with the fandom community!

Ther's no right or wrong way to run an ask blog; but I'm happy to share some of the things I've learned over the years from trial and error for those just dipping their talon into this creative format for the first time.

There's two different ways you can start your ask blog; by creating a side-blog off of your main blog, or by creating a whole new blog. Either works fine, but I personally favour having a full blog - you can make a gmail in two minutes then bash out a full blog just like that. The drawback is that sometimes I forget to log back onto my main blog; but a side blog cannot send asks to other blogs and you have to remember to set everything you post to the correct blog, which can get confusing at times.

While decorating your new blog; make a rules page and write out a list of things you're not okay with people asking. Maybe you're uncomfortable with rude or violent asks - with topics of sexual harassment or racism or homophobia. Maybe you don't want to roleplay, or you only want to interact with people that follow your specific ship. You can put whatever you want on your rules page - but pin that post so that newcomers can read it and know what is and isn't okay to send in.

When you first start your blog, it can be a little tricky to get the ball rolling. I recomend following other ask blogs and active blogs in the fandom and interacting with their posts to connect with other people. Even then however, you might need to either get a friend to send you a couple of asks or send a few anonymous asks to yourself to get started.

Don't be discouraged if it takes a few days or weeks for people to starts sending in asks. It takes a long time to foster people's interest and engagement no matter how popular or interesting the character is.

A big question people often have is; should I post art with my asks?

From my experience, you could be the greatest writer in the world - but posts you make which have a visual aspect will always grab more attention on a social media platform designed for scrolling than just normal text posts. People have short attention spans. Keep text responses short, and add something sparkly to grab peoples attention.

Not everyone is an artist or has time to draw, but that doesn't mean you can't still make your posts visually interesting. You could use gifs or screenshots of your character, you could handwrite your replies to make them look like letters or diary entries (although if you ever do illustrated text, make sure to include it as a caption below for screenreaders to still be able to access), or even just make your reply fonts colourful or large or play around with different fonts to make them stand out from other posts.

If you do want to draw replies I encourage it because it's a great way to improve your drawing skills fast. If you're worried about your skill level, you can always make it part of the theme and say it's the character drawing their own responses.

I'd recomend if you're planning on sketching replies to draw out several different pictures of your character with different expressions and poses and to re-use them. However if you want to be a crazy person like me and try to draw unique responses most of the time; I'd highly recomend choosing a very simplified style of drawing.

Response pieces should take you less than fifteen minutes or you'll burn yourself out pretty fast. I sketch Revali in a simplified way and just do a flood-fill wash of tone so that my drawings are as fast and simple as possible to do - no colour or shading. If I was spending an hour on every response piece, I'd run out of spoons for this by the end of the week.

If you want to run a popular or highly interacted with blog, the most important thing is posting frequently. If you post a few times a day - or even just a few times a week, people will seek out your blog because it will keep appearing at the top of the tags. The key is churning out a lot of asks all the time.

Get into a habit of doin' your posts fast and rough, and don't worry too much about perfecting things. Nobody will notice if your art or writing is a little unfinished or sketchy. On social media, especially in this style of creating, people only look at your posts for a few seconds - so especially when you're first starting out and trying to get noticed, it's okay to choose quantity over quality.

Something I know a lot of people worry about when they first start out is lore and storytelling in their ask responses.

My best advice is to not take anything too seriously. On this blog, sometimes Revali is around before the Calamity, sometimes he's around in Totk times. Sometimes I draw him wearing modern clothes and using an ipad and other times he has no idea what a microwave is. Sometimes I answer an ask one way, then forget about it and answer something else with conflicting information a few months later.

Nobody really pays enough attention to everything you post to notice continuousy errors. These blogs are just a bit of fun and a way for you to play around with your character like a barbie doll. You can do whatever you want with them, and change it day by day. You don't have to stick to one timeline or ensure that every single thing you post is lore accurate.

Saying that; let's talk about something I like to call 'arcs'.

Every once in a while when things are feeling a little dry or someone sends in something interesting, I'll throw in an 'arc' for Revali. Maybe he gets turned into a chick or a Hylian or joins the Yiga Clan - and for a few days all of my ask posts will revolve around this.

While it's a lot of fun to play with arcs, I'd recomend keeping them short and sweet - lasting no more than a week at longest before returning back to a comfortable norm. Newcomers are always drifting into fandom, as are more casual fans, and if newbies or people who aren't as deep into this character's life as you stumble upon your posts while you're doing a crazy arc, they're likely not really going to understand what's going on. Returning to a more 'canon typical' version of your character between arcs is important for coaxing in newer fans and keeping people from getting too lost.

Another thing people often wonder about is roleplay.

I don't really make my ask blogs with roleplay in mind, but the format itself is kind of built for it if the concept interests you. Playing as your favourite character and enacting little scenes with other blogs can be super fun - great escapism and an interesting way to tell a narrative.

There are however some unspoken rules to roleplay; things you pick up over time that aren't always obvious.

First off - not every ask blog wants to roleplay. Some people just aren't comfortable with it - and that's okay. Check out someone's rules page or just pop them a DM to ask, and respect their decision if they don't want to.

When you do roleplay with somebody; it's common courtasy to keep your roleplay to under ten posts. While this isn't as big of a deal as it used to be (truely Hylia bless Tumblr's newly enforced read-more feature when a post reaches a certain length), it's still polite not to clog up people's dashes with tons of long replies. If the roleplay starts to get too long, try to wrap it up and start a new one.

Another important unspoken rule is something I like to call the 'ask blog universe'.

Every ask blog is their own little universe bubble, where you come up with your own ideas and headcanons for your character and others. Sometimes you'll roleplay with another ask blog - and those ideas will clash.

You cannnot force your headcanons onto another blogs universe, so try to keep your headcanons out of roleplay and leave them just for asks and posts. If I'm roleplaying as Revali with another blog, I'm not going to mention within that roleplay that he's transgender or that he's infatuated with Link - because that might not be the canon for that other blog's universe, and it would be rude to make them have to bend their established canon to accomodate me.

You should always have fun acting out your favourite ships and headcanons - but just try to be considerate when roleplaying with other blogs that not everyone will share your opinions, and maybe just avoid topics of debate within the play.

Another thing people often ask; Can I start an ask blog for a character if someone else is already running an ask blog for them.

The answer is yes, of course you can. That person does not own the character - if you want to start a Revali blog like me, go for it! You can bring something new to the table that I cannot - we will inevitably play very different versions of this character and explore things the other has not even thought of. The more fun writing and art for our favourite character in the world - the better.

Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Which brings me onto my most important piece of advice.

No matter how you run your blog, inevitably at some point, some sad person with nothing better to do is going to come into your ask box and send something unplesent. Maybe it will be something gross and sexual - maybe it will be a rant about how they disagree with a headcanon you've made and why it's all wrong - maybe they'll just send you vauge death threats because they don't like the character (Revali gets a LOT of those...). This is unfortunatly an inescapable part of being online and creating.

The BEST thing you can do - and I cannot express enough how important this is - block them and delete the asks. Turn off anonymous asks if it starts to really bother you - even if it's just for a little bit.

Do not post them. Do not respond to them. Do not post ABOUT them.

These people are purely here for your attention, they want a reaction from you; and the second you give them that even if it's the most levelheaded response in the world, they will keep harassing you nonstop.

Whereas if you never acknowledge them; they will vanish so fast it will make your head spin.

Now, it's HARD not to post the scary, mean, or ranty asks that people send you for the validation of your kind followers telling you how wrong their harassment is. I get that. What I would recomend is befriending other ask blogs and sharing the woes with them instead. We even have a Legend of Zelda ask blogs discord group that anyone making an ask blog can join - go in there and screenshot post the garbage people send so we can all rant about it and validate you together.

Just never post it publically - it only feeds the wee beasts.

Ask blogs can be really fun to run!

They can also be hard work sometimes - whether it's because you're stuck on difficult asks, overwhelmed or underwhelmed with the amount of people interacting with you, getting mean anons, or burning out from trying to draw every response.

If you ever need a listening ear or a little advice or support, ol' Rahlin is always happy to share what I know. Don't be nervous to shoot over any questions or worries you have and we can talk them out.

I'm no expert in this genre by any means, but I have had a lot of experience with a lot of different issues over the years, and I'm always here to help anyone who is new to the scene and wants to join in the fun!

[robinvomit]

[ a moment in time. ]

the sound of rain trickles in as you wake, soft as it hits against the windows.

you don't expect the warmth of a body still beside you and for a moment, you don't move; you aren't even sure if you can breathe. your eyes, barely open, shift around the room to find his coat is tossed haphazardly over the chair, boots are by the door. there's cigarette butts in the ashtray.

evidence. proof. that he was real, that he stayed.

john isn't the kind of man you expect to wake up next to. he's the kind you expect to disappear before the sheets can even go cold, leaving only the smell of smoke and potential regrer. but for some reason, this time… he didn't. he's still on his side facing you, hair sticking out at our angles and jaw slack. one arm is curled under the pillow you shared, the other draped between you like a line that you shouldn't cross.

you don't touch him. you've already touched too much and maybe that's why it feels like you're next to something feral. something that's going to bolt the second you move too much or breathe in too sharp. this is the most dangerous part of it all; not the magic, not the monsters, not even the grief he carries like a second skin. it's this; the quiet. the chance, however fleeting, to believe there"s something tender hidden beneath it all.

you remind yourself that God's get bored and play with human lives.

but maybe, against all odds and demons and things above, he stayed because he wanted to. not because he was cornered or cursed, or too tired to run. not because fate slipped or someone higher needed entertainment in the form of aching hearts. he doesn't do things he doesn't want to do, regardless of anything else.

he shifts slightly and his breath catches, a sound following. you think he might wake and you think you might say something if he does - something that might cause it all to crash and burn. but you stay still, heart beating loud enough to hurt, and hold onto this moment like it"s the last good thing you'll get, for however long it lasts before he remembers who he is, and what it costs to love him.

you watch as he settles again, hand shifting between you to reach, fingertips just barely resting against your side. you ignore the urge to reach for him and close your eyes, letting yourself doze off once more, knowing that the world may not be so kind the second time you wake.

[ kal, gently force feeding you guys constantine: ]

[aishangotome]

[Gilbert] I Love My Sworn Enemy Story Event Epilogue

Part 3

♡———♡

I had known about her previously through the owner of the bookstore, who was an acquaintance.

A beautiful woman, untainted by deceit and corruption, capable of loving others and sharing her kindness––

When I heard that she was running a detective agency alongside her bookstore, I couldn't remain calm.

Gilbert: Why?

Roderic: I... I don't know that much.

My aide, who had brought me the information, also shook his head with a bitter expression.

Roderic: She is a kind woman, so perhaps she had some thoughts about the phantom thief craze happening in our country?

Gilbert: I truly despise that kind of goodness.

Gilbert: ...There's no one in this world worth my little bunny protecting.

Gilbert: Maybe I'll just kill all the villains.

Roderic: Gilbert-sama...

Gilbert: Because being a detective is dangerous, isn't it?

Gilbert: You never know what the villains in Obsidian might do.

Roderich: ...Then, what will you do?

Gilbert: Hmm...

Gilbert: I know. Maybe I'll become a phantom thief.

Roderich: ...Huh?

Gilbert: If I do that, my little bunny will chase only me, right?

Gilbert: Don't you think it's a brilliant idea?

Thus, the great phantom thief was born, with no interest in anything other than Emma. Even when extorting gold and treasures, his heart remained unmoved.

However, as he gained fame as a phantom thief, he had more opportunities to meet Emma, the detective, and he couldn't help but enjoy their trivial chases every time.

(But... of course, these kinds of idiots still appear, don't they?)

The third-rate thief, with whom Emma cheated despite the presence of the great phantom thief, resorted to force when faced with defeat. If I hadn't secretly been watching over her, Emma would have been dead by now.

The most valuable treasure in this world was about to be taken by some unknown man right in front of him, and the surging killing intent was not something that could be easily suppressed.

Despite having a gun in his hand and deliberating how to kill him, Emma stood in his way. Her beautiful eyes pleaded, Don't kill him.

Emma: ...Please.

Gilbert: You can be kind even to someone who tried to kill you, can't you?

Gilbert: Hahaha, your heart is so pure it makes me sick.

Emma: It's not... kindness.

Emma: I'm just saying you don't need to dirty your hands for someone like this.

Emma: I believe that killing a person is synonymous with harming yourself.

Emma: I don't think you need to go that far for someone else.

Gilbert: .....

Gilbert: ...Heh, I thought you'd insist that killing people is wrong.

(I never thought she'd say "for my sake" instead of "for his.")

(She must have desperately used her head, knowing that mere platitudes wouldn't stop me.)

My little bunny is trembling. Yet, there's no sign of her fleeing from the gun's muzzle.

Her presence was hundreds of times—no, incomparably more beautiful than the treasure the third-rate thief had stolen, captivating him so completely that a surge of disgust welled up inside him.

(...Ah, that's right.)

(I should just steal her.)

(Instead of becoming a phantom thief to attract my little bunny's attention...)

(Why didn't I think of simply stealing my little bunny herself? If I made her mine, no one could lay a hand on her.)

(It's so simple it's foolish to even worry about it––)

Gilbert: Haaah...

A few months later, I quickly changed and rolled into bed.

(I couldn't get my little bunny today either.)

Emma: Don't come any closer than that!

As usual, I sent a calling card to the detective and went to pick her up. My prey, darting and fleeing like a startled rabbit, was hiding in the shadow of the alley, her guard fully up. Her defenses were clearly tighter than before; it was impossible to even approach easily.

Gilbert: I want to get closer.

Emma: No, absolutely not, don't come!

Gilbert: You know how I feel, and yet you're so cruel.

When I deliberately faked crying, Emma's face turned beet red, visible even in the dim light.

Emma: D-D-Don't say things like that!

Gilbert: Why shouldn't I say I like what I like?

Emma: ...You're teasing me, aren't you?

Gilbert: Hahaha, I'm not so free as to target you just as a joke.

Emma: ......

(I actually hate it.)

(Looking at your beautiful heart, I constantly worry that it will one day be dirtied...)

(More dislike than like... but I love you. I'm full of contradictions myself.)

Gilbert: Hey, Emma.

Emma: Nn... What is it?

When I pulled out a single black rose I had hidden behind my back, her clear eyes blinked several times.

Gilbert: This rose, it's for you.

Emma: ...I don't want it.

Gilbert: Oh, don't say that.

I hid the rose in my other hand, crushed it, and then opened my palm to show her. The rose that should have been there was gone, and Emma leaned out from the shadows.

Emma: Where did it go...?

I pointed to my pants pocket in front of a bewildered Emma. Emma quickly glanced down at her own skirt and seemed to notice a single rose tucked there.

Emma: Wow...!

(Heh, so easy.)

I crept closer while she was distracted by the rose.

Emma: Gilbert-sama could probably make a living just with these skills, even without being a phantom thief—

When I unexpectedly kissed Emma, who had looked up defenselessly, the redness on her face spread to her ear tips and neck, and she began to tremble uncontrollably.

Emma: .....................You tricked me!

Gilbert: To think a detective could be tricked so easily.

Emma: Ugh!

I hugged Emma tightly as she was about to spring away and flee. I could hear the rapid drumming of her heart from our pressed bodies, and I couldn't help but laugh.

Gilbert: I'm your sworn enemy, and yet you're so flustered.

Emma: I-I'm scared.

Gilbert: I hate lies.

Emma: ...Well...

Emma: Gilbert-sama is... a thief, a villain, an unforgivable criminal, but...

Emma: You always come when I'm in trouble or need help...

Emma: ...I know you're a kind person.

(...)

Emma: But I will never let you steal my heart!

She resisted with strong force, and this time, I finally let her go.

Emma dashed away without a backward glance. But she still held the single rose in her hand.

...

(Just thinking about it, she's so cute.)

(Ever since that kiss, she's been constantly aware of me...)

I buried my face in my pillow to calm my urge to writhe.

(Beautiful and cute...)

(...That's why I can't make her mine.)

(Because if such a cute and beautiful creature were by my side, she'd quickly become sullied.)

(I hate the thought of her becoming tainted, so I can't truly steal her.)

Even though the faint remaining conscience of a villain held him back, another emotion whispered in his ear. If she were to be tainted by someone else, he'd rather taint her himself. If she were to be killed by someone else, he'd rather kill her himself.

(Ah...)

(I wonder if she'll become mine soon.)

.

.

.

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[red-dyed-sarumane]

some of you are so lost in the ai panic that you've lost sight of reasoning in favor of destroying a perceived threat that you are the ones actively making the art scene worse for artists. the amount of artists ive seen harassed because a stranger "clocked" their works as ai even when theyve had the same style for years beforehand or at least a very traceable pattern of progression and the amount of artists ive seen deterred from creating something for fear of it being too close to an ai-like art concept that they end up harassed about it is unforgivable. you cannot be claiming you are anti ai art for its impact on artists & their job prospects and then turn around and destroy the very community you claim to care for. some of you are just excited to have an "acceptable" outlet to be mean and it shows

[bunnyboy-juice]

every time i see a "i wanna talk to my mutuals, but i dont want to be an annoying bitch" type of post it breaks my heart bc like. no not every moot will wanna be your bestie - but why do you assume the person who chose to follow you back immediately would find you annoying? why do you project this negative image of yourself onto others, and assume the worst of our minds in relation to you? like thats not the point of those posts. ik ik its not the point, ik the point is self deprication, flaggellation. ik its supposed to be about how bad and annoying you think you are, an expression of anxiety or fear of conflict or the unknown but also g-d... idk. its not easy to talk to people sometimes for sure, but it breaks my heart also that you think that your acquaintances/friends or the people who choose to be in this space with you, to be around you, to follow you, to know some part of you find you annoying for existing ): and i know this is why some people refrain from talking to me too, and that kills me more. bc i want yall to talk to me - even if i dont answer or have the words. i want to talk to you even if you dont really have a response other than "haha yay!". why would i be mutuals with you if not because i like the way you blog, the things you talk about, the things you engage with. idk. //: