#feat. error

[wishing-stones]

now i'm curious: how about the star sans bitties? how would the stars feel about bitties of themselves? (and.. how would dream and nightmare react to eachothers bitties? just if you're up to answering this part, if not that's fine :DD)

Ink's bitty is named Smudge, and he loves the tiny version of him. They're chaotic together, feed off one another's energy and excitement, and then both throw-up ink. Goes about how you'd think it would.

Dream has Wist, and they get along pretty well. Wist mother hens Dream into taking care of himself, so it's like having a mini self-care reminder everywhere he goes. Dream takes very good care of his bitty, as he would anyone else he's especially close to.

Blue has Bubble, and they make a wonderful team. Bubble encourages Blue in his training and everything else, and Blue cheers Bubble on for whatever he's doing, too! They, similar to Ink and Smudge, create an energy feedback loop.

(Not mentioned, but reminded of: Error has Blip, and they can't stand each other. Error will try to pawn him off onto other people, but every time he does... Blip somehow finds his way back into the anti-void and kicks him off the beanbag chair. Yes. The entire full-sized beanbag chair. Even after getting him his own smaller one, he still gets kicked out. Blip bites until he gets his way, and can, as his name implies, blip out of any strings Error uses. Large dog gets kicked out of his bed by tiny cat.)

Wist and Dread would get along fine, shockingly. They have none of the history that their larger counterparts have, and they bond easily. Wist is happy to let Dread be top dog, so there isn't a power struggle, and Wist makes sure he takes care of his brother.

Dread, however, would bite Dream the first chance he got because there's no way Dream didn't coo over him, and how dare he be cooed over like some... fuzzy kitten or equally cute small animal. He may be small, but he commands respect, and you will respect him as if he were as large as Nightmare, thank you very much.

...Perhaps unsurprisingly, Nightmare would take great pleasure in tormenting little Wist. It's nothing serious, but his brother's bitty is absolutely terrarium-bound and gets teased a lot. It's not constant, though, and Nightmare's pretty good about delivering scritches if he's either being a good sport, or too wound up. It's a little easier to be less guarded around a much smaller version of his brother who shares no history with him.

[girlsdads]

hugs for Brett Baty after his game-saving unassisted double play 🫂 (mets @ rockies | 6.6.25)

[nugatorysheep]

love confusing cis people with my gender. it's my favorite activity

[digitalclowns]

Watching the VE stream rn and

@garden-gem @zealousvision @atlasisgay @turnin-kaikai Mursee nation win? MURSEE NATION WIN???? MURSEE WIN GUYS

MURSEE WIN GUYS

MURSEE WINNNNN

[luvsupa]

LET’S KEEP IT PROFESSIONAL. . .?

𝜗𝜚 summary: where jjk men want you at the wrong place and wrong time… feat. gojo, geto, choso, nanami (seperate).

tags: fem!reader, pwp,smut, (p in v), ōral sex (f! receiving), lactation kink .. (gojo), gojos a king and he’s OBESSED w you, public sex, car sex, riding, sub men (ish), dirty talk, praise, hair pulling, getting caught, mentions of pregnancy (nanami), slight bimbo reader x choso, ummm dunno what else to add … mdni

w.c: 5,3k

a/n: THANK YOU GUYS SOSOS MUCH FOR 2K AND 2.1K!! IM SO THANKFUL FOR ALL OF YOUUUUUU^^^ HERES A 2K SPECIAL FOR YOU GUYSS MWAAA <33

+ there might be errors errrrr….

GOJO SATORU

“gojo-sama,” the family in front of you scolds, trying to get his full attention. the royal family has come to your estate to propose a business alliance—a union with the well-known gojo clan.

gojo has you seated prettily on his lap on his golden cushioned throne, in full view of the royal family and advisors. halfway through the meeting, he loses interest, he has little concern for these meetings—all he truly wants is to be with you and your newborn daughter.

it was nearly impossible for him to focus, your scent envelops him, clouding his thoughts, leaving only you in his mind. his lower lip quivers as you shift against his hardening cock. he struggles to maintain composure but can’t resist trailing soft kisses along your neck. one large hand caresses your once pregnant belly while you fight to keep your gaze steady in front of the royal family.

your eyes flutter, heart racing as you realize he cannot possibly be doing this now. below, the murmurs of the guests fade away as his heated kisses press against your skin. he hums deeply, almost moaning with each kiss, savouring the softness of your body. his glossed lips leave marks along your neck, gleaming in the natural light, a clear display of his desire.

“ngh—’toru. . .continue. . . later,” you whisper, struggling to suppress a moan as gojo’s other hand kneads your plump breasts through the kimono. the soreness from weeks wroth of nursing makes each touch electric. the king below stares, while the guards exchange knowing glances, accustomed to gojo’s actions.

“gojo-sama, we ask that you—”

“hahh, look at that—you’re leaking,” gojo murmurs, his voice thick with desire as he watches your milk seep through the thin fabric of your kimono, a damp spot growing with each teasing stroke of his fingers over your sensitive nipple. your head falls back onto his shoulder, eyes closing in embarrassment ,unable to face the audience.

shamelessly, gojo’s hand on your tummy snakes lower between your shaky thighs. he smiles knowingly as you’re bare underneath, warmth radiating from you. it’s embarrassing how quickly he’s made you this wet, you blame it on hormonal imbalances.

gojo’s slender fingers part your swollen folds, sending shudders through your body with his icy touch as he rubs gentle circles on your nub. you moan, not caring how loud you are, overwhelmed by his fingers toying with your nipples and clit—all while numerous pairs of eyes remain glued to both of you.

“what’s gotcha’ this drenched, baby? have i not satisfied you enough?” gojo spills out nonsense, even though he satisfies you too much. he spoils you rotten, always going above and beyond—no matter when or where.

“tell me what i need to do, precious,” he begs as his fingers slide into your slick cunt. you both gasp, his long fingers sucked in tightly by your needy walls. your eyes flutter open to see your breasts leaking uncontrollably as he pinches and twists your poor nipples.

your hips buck wildly, greedily taking in more of his thick fingers as your walls cling tightly to him, massaging your sweet spot with every curl and press. you sob, breaths coming in ragged gasps, eyes glossy as you glance at the guests through blurred vision. each breath is a shaky exhale, mingling with soft whimpers as gojo’s cock throbs, pulsating with each of your desperate thrusts—it aches painfully with need. his fingers work relentlessly, coaxing more cries from your lips. your chest heaves with every breath, the sound of your panting filling the room. 

“gojo-sama, take your wife out of here! she’s a clear disruption—” the king shouts, but falters as gojo’s icy gaze locks onto his, sending a chilling wave through him. fear creeps into the king’s eyes, and he immediately regrets his words.

in the blink of an eye, gojo places you gently onto the cushioned throne, your eyes fluttering in confusion as you look up to see him towering over you. before you can speak, he drops to his knees, his face inches from your drooling cunt.

he bunches up your kimono to your waist for better access, exposing your slickness that glimmersunder the harsh lights. just as gojo is about to devour you like a starved man, he hears footsteps retreating from the room.

without turning his head, his voice booms with unsettling authority, filling the space with an ominous weight. 

“the first person who leaves will be beheaded.”

fear grips the room as every footstep halts. the tense silence makes it clear, all eyes are now fixed on you two, trapped in the suffocating stillness that follows.

and now, here gojo is, his tongue buried deep inside your stretchy walls, his frosty hair sticking to his forehead, cheeks flushed a rosy pink. he lost himself the moment his lips met your pussy, consumed by an imhumane hunger.

your cunt is loud, the lewd sloshes echoing through the royalty room, disturbing the royal family's ears. your pussy spasms as his head shakes like a madman, his killer tongue curling and thrusting as deeply as he can reach. each movement sends shockwaves through you, and he revels in the chaos he's creating.

both of his hands are messily playing with your drenched breasts, which are on full display. he pinches and squeezes your nipples with need, adding to the overwhelming sensations. you're a moaning mess, the dual stimulation too much to bear—a toe curling experience that leaves you breathless.

gojo drinks and slurps loudly on your sloppy pussy, each sound a explicit reminder to his appetite. your pussy is like a drug to him, he's high off you and can't get enough. he needs more of you—your taste, your scent—or he'll surely go mad.

the room is filled with the symphony of your combined sounds, your moans, his greedy slurps, and the wet noises of your body responding to him. it's a lewd display that leaves no doubt about the depths of his obsession and your mutual surrender to this intoxicating moment.

“hahh, i n-need it, my lady,” gojo whimpers, his droopy eyes locked onto your messy breasts, glistening with milk. his mouth waters, a desperate hunger igniting within him as he rises from his knees, his lips and chin still slick from your leaky cunt. confusion flickers across your face until his warm mouth finally envelops your nipple, his tongue swirling around it with an insatiable eagerness, drawing forth your sweet fluids.

his eyes flutter closed at the new taste flooding his senses—so sweet, candied, and intoxicating that it sends a jolt of pleasure straight to his throbbing cock, which leaks eagerly against the fabric of his traditional attire. the sensation is overwhelming that he can’t get enough. 

“oh f-fuck, ‘toru…” you moan, your voice trembling as waves of pleasure wash over you. the sensitivity of your nipple sends shivers down your spine, and you arch your back off the cushioned throne instinctively, pushing more of yourself into his mouth. 

“mhm… so good,” he groans against you, the vibrations of his voice sending shockwaves through your body. he sucks harder, pulling on your swollen nipple as if it's the only thing keeping him alive. the sounds of slurping and moaning fill the air—each noise a raw desire consuming both of you.

you cry out again, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you. you gasp, lost in a haze of pleasure as gojo's mouth works its magic. every flick of his tongue and gentle tug sends you spiralling deeper into ecstasy. the royal family stares up in horror at your lewd actions, they tremble in fear at what gojo would do to them if they said one peep.

but gojo is completely lost in this moment, high on the taste of you. “i can’t stop… i need more,” he moans breathlessly between pulls as your milk coats his plush lips, his own arousal pushing him closer to the edge. each time he pulls away to catch his breath, he’s met with the sight of your flushed cheeks and blissed-out expression—fuelling his desire even further.

gojo has found his new addiction in you, and it’s a craving that will never be satisfied. as he continues to devour your milk with fervour , both of you moan like crazy, caught in an endless cycle of pleasure that only seems to intensify with each passing moment.

he’ll never stop at this rate.

GETO SUGURU

your ears perk up as you hear your coworkers squeak in excitement upon spotting geto suguru, the renowned artist, stepping into the luxurious store where you work. this high-end boutique, filled with fashionable handbags and stunning clothing, is where geto loves to shop—not just for the exquisite pieces, but because you’re always here.

fiddling with the clothing rack, you catch a glimpse of geto through your peripheral vision, flanked by his bodyguards as female employees swarm around him. little do they know—and little does the media suspect—that you and geto share a secret relationship. he often begs you to quit your job, promising to provide for you completely. as tempting as that offer is, you've built a family at work that you cherish deeply.

“hmmm, i was actually looking for this piece in particular,” you hear him say from behind you. his large hand engulfs yours as he selects the coat you were just touching. you stifle a giggle; this is nowhere near his usual style. he always does this to strike up casual conversations in public.

“would you get the fitting room ready for me, mrs. geto?” he rasps, whispering the last part just for your ears. your eyes widen in shock, hoping no one overheard. you nod, noticing your coworkers scoff at how clearly geto has a favorite.

you already know what he wants with that slick fitting room signal—he misses you and wants to fuck you.

that's why he has you bent over prettily for him in the vip fitting room, your hands pressed against the full-length mirror now smudged with your fingerprints. your work pants are discarded somewhere across the room as you watch him tease you mercilessly, rubbing his cockhead along your puffy folds. your pussy aches, desperate for more.

“i missed you, pretty,” he murmurs softly, and you nearly crumble when he slaps his chubby tip against your clit. the wet taps send jolts through your entire body, making your pussy clench around nothing.

“m-missed you too, sugu,” you whimper, voice trembling with need. he swats your ass, drawing a moan from your lips as you lean into the mirror. fog clouds the reflection as he continues to spank your sore skin, each slap a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that leaves you breathless.

“‘m not talkin’ to you,” he scolds as you whine, wiggling your hips back to feel more, a chuckle rumbling from him. “since you wanna ignore my texts... she would never ignore me.” his voice drops as his leaky tip pushes its way into your cunt, your walls stretching to accommodate every inch, almost burning. geto hisses at the way your velvety walls flutter around him, and you feel yourself growing blissfully dumb. the store's background music rings in your ears, a reminder that you're still on the job.

geto watches you slowly lose yourself through the mirror, pulling your hips firmly against his as he slams his cock deep into your walls, making you sob aloud. he pounds mercilessly into your sopping pussy, each stroke deeper than before, his flushed tip kissing your cervix with every thrust. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the fitting room, mingling with your moans and creating a sweet melody of raw desire.

“fuckkk—pussy so good,” he pants as you clamp down at the praise, a grin spreading across his face as he sees your eyes shut tightly, moaning out pathetic pleas. your pussy sobs uncontrollably, nearly louder than the soft music playing through the speakers.

“mmm, she’s very talkative today,” he rasps wickedly, his hand snaking down to vigorously rub your achy clit, the cool metal of his silver rings grazing your sensitive skin. you cry out from the dual stimulation, overwhelmed by the sensation.

“y-you came here to just speak to my pussy more than m-me,” you manage to say, a hint of attitude slipping through as he pauses, taken aback by your words. his thrusts come to an abrupt halt, and you whine at the sudden stop.

“awh baby. are you upset? wanna show me how mad you are?” he teases with a fake pout, watching as your frustration builds. “poor thing, all worked up and nowhere to go.”

he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “maybe if you hadn’t ignored my texts, i’d be a little nicer,” he taunts, giving your clit a sharp pinch that makes you gasp. “but now? i think i’ll take my time.”

his words send a shiver down your spine as he resumes his relentless pace, each thrust deliberate and punishing. “come on, show me how mad you are,” he urges mockingly, his voice dripping with amusement.

those were his last words before you took control, riding him like your life depended on it. he's whimpering beneath you,struggling to hold back his moans as your pussy works him over, each movement a killer. you're pouncing on him on the adjacent couch from the mirror, your hips rolling at a relentless pace as his large hands knead the flesh of your ass. he swears he's under some kind of hypnosis, his eyes glued to your breasts as they bounce wildly in front of his wide, purple eyes.

your pussy squelches louder and louder with each thrust, a symphony of wet sounds that’s music to his ears—he even thinks he might have to incorporate it into his next song.

“how’re you feeling, pretty boy?” you purr, and a moan slips past his lips at the praise. his eyes flutter slightly as you ride him faster, your walls sucking him in with a steady rhythm.

“hahhh, d-don’t think i won’t get back at you,” he whines, but there's no mistaking the submission in his voice. you grin down at him, taking in the sight of his long locks sticking to his forehead, strands of hair messily splayed across his face. he's completely undone beneath you, humming with pleasure as you continue your relentless pace.

his once-commanding presence is softened by the way he succumbs to your movements, each roll of your hips drawing out more whimpers and gasps. 

“mr. geto, we found a few pieces that you might like!” 

you stop in your tracks, eyes widening in panic as you hear your manager’s voice on the other side of the door. geto lazily smiles, clearly enjoying the fear that flashes across your face. without warning, he lifts you up from the couch, his strong arms wrapping around you as he strides closer to the door. your heart races as he slams you against the wall beside the door, and you stare up at him, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through you.

“hmm? please tell me more about it, im dying to know more,” he lies smoothly, his voice low and teasing as he wraps your legs around his waist. his cock is still buried deep inside you, and he begins to thrust slowly, deliberately. you bite your lip hard, desperately trying to stifle any sounds as you’re mere inches away from your oblivious manager who rambles on about clothing pieces.

each thrust sends shockwaves through your body, and you struggle to keep quiet as he fucks you roughly. it almost feels like he’s punishing you, yet the thrill of being caught only heightens your arousal. but fuckk, the way you look at him—eyes wide with fear and desire—makes him want to abandon all caution. he wants everyone to see how much you belong to him.

“you like that, baby? you like getting fucked in front of your manager?” he whispers with a wicked grin, his voice dripping with mischief. you gasp as his dick throbs inside your sloppy cunt, your arousal leaking profusely and staining the expensive flooring beneath you. 

your managers voice suddenly drops as she realize something is off, her excitement turns to horror as she begin to piece together what’s happening just behind the door.

“yeaa, I bet you do, doll,” geto taunts, his eyes dark with lust. 

“just show her how much of a slut you are.”

CHOSO KAMO

“what do you mean there’s no room?” you exclaimed, eyes widening as you looked into the back seat and saw it completely filled. not even a single inch was available for you. of course, two of the tallest guys—choso and riko—were manspreading like it was their job, leaving your poor friends, mina and sajé, squished together.

“well… we thought the car would fit all of us,” choso’s friend, the driver, said as he glanced back, confirming that there was zero room possible. you pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration; you’d already pitched in money for this road trip.

“you can sit on my lap if you’re comfortable,” choso chimed in, his voice smooth and inviting. your eyes nearly twinkle at his kindness, and everyone in the car exchanged side-eyes—half surprised and half amused by the suggestion. 

your low heels clacked against the cement as you hurried over to choso’s side of the car, excitement bubbling inside you. when you opened the door, you nearly choked on your saliva at how incredibly good he looked, manspreading in the back seat. his black baggy ripped jeans hugged his long legs perfectly, paired with those monstrous black boots that made him look even taller. your eyes trailed up to his chest—damn, that black compression shirt clung to him in all the right places.

he’s the true definition of an emo hottie!

his lap looked so inviting as you climbed into the cramped SUV. you settled snugly on his lap, feeling his large arm snake around your waist for extra protection. but oh gosh, your cunt was tingling like crazy—your clothed pussy was directly on top of his bulge, and it sent a rush of heat through you.

after nearly hours of driving, everyone in the car is dozing off to slumber—everyone except you, choso, the driver, and the person in the passenger seat. the car jolts suddenly, waking everyone up, but what’s even worse is that you’re practically bouncing on choso’s lap!

“ehh, sorry! the roads are pretty bad here,” the driver says as the car hits a series of small bumps that quickly escalate to larger ones. choso’s arm around your waist tightens, holding you down more firmly against him. you suppress a moan as you feel the outline of his growing cock beneath you—hell, you can even feel it throbbing uncontrollably.

you shut your eyes tightly, nibbling on your plush lips as you try to hold back any sounds. it would be beyond embarrassing if you let out a noise now. but with each bump in the road, the friction between your bodies sends electric shocks through you, igniting a fire deep within.

“f-fuck… need more,” he whispers lowly, just for your ears. your heart stops at his words. did you hear him wrong? but the way he’s holding you down makes it clear that you heard him just fine.

the tension in the air is thick—almost suffocating—as desire hangs between you like a heavy fog. every jolt of the car pushes you closer to him, and you can’t help but grind down slightly, feeling his hardness beneath you. it’s so pathetic how the both of you are grinding hard on each other, holding in whimpers and moans as you feel your panties fully drenched. choso’s breath hitches, and his grip on your waist tightens even more as he bucks his hips up desperately to feel more.

your nails scrape against the driver’s seat in front of you, and you swear you’re about to rip through the fabric. it’s embarrassing how turned on both you and choso are—especially with all your friends in the car!

“pull over here, let’s get some drinks,” riko groggily says, and the car sharply turns right into the parking lot of the convenience store. both of your movements come to an abrupt halt as the atmosphere shifts; everyone becomes hyper-aware of the situation.

“y’all coming in?” riko asks as he opens his door, and you feel your heart race. you and choso exchange a quick glance, knowing exactly what’s at stake. “no thanks, we’ll just stay here,” you manage to say, forcing a casual tone despite the heat pooling in your belly.

you don’t waste a minute as you reposition yourself facing choso, your knees sinking into the plush seat beneath you providing just enough comfort. his hair is messily tousled, strands falling across his face, and those puppy eyes of his are filled with a desperate need that makes your heart race.

without hesitation, choso quickly unbuckles his jeans, pulling out his achy cock from its confines. he lets out a soft moan as the cool breeze grazes his thick shaft, and your eyes widen at how incredibly hot he looks—his rosy tip leaking with anticipation.

“you’re so fuckin’ hot,” he breathes, his voice thick with desire. he’s already intoxicated by you, and all you’ve done is grind against each other!. the heat between you is noticeable , and you can feel your own need building as you pull your panties to the side.

“g-gosh, choso,” you gasp as his thick tip slips inside you, your walls inviting him completely. choso throws his head back against the headrest, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he drives his hips up with fervor, filling you entirely.

“i’m sorry, pretty— we don’t have much time,” he breathes, his voice strained and shaky, each word punctuated by heavy breaths. his hips move with a desperate urgency, thrusting into you with a rhythm all their own. the sound of your bodies meeting is so loud it drowns out the hum of the engine. 

you roll your hips, feeling him reach the deepest parts of you. your breaths mingle in the confined space, quickening with each thrust. a moan escapes your lips as his bulbous tip expertly finds your g-spot with each powerful thrust, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. choso’s breath hitches as he loses himself in the moment, the air thick with tension and desire.

the car shakes with each thrust, the windows slightly fogging up as you both fuck each other with desperateness and need.

“‘s fuckin’ big, cho,” you stammer out, your melodic moans music to his ears. his cock vigorously throbs within your slick walls, and the two of you are growing dumb off each other, lost in a haze of pleasure.

with each thrust met, your cunt begins to spasm around him, clenching tightly as waves of pleasure wash over you. the sensation is overwhelming; it feels like your body is begging for release. the car creaks under the intensity of your movements, the air thick with heat and urgency. 

as you both get lost in the moment, choso leans in closer, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. it starts softly, but quickly escalates into something primal and messy. his hands grip your face as if he’s afraid to let go, and you can feel his raw passion pouring into every touch.

your mouths move together with urgent need, tongues tangling in a wild dance that feels intoxicating and electric. he tastes like pure desire—sweet and addictive—as he kisses you deeper. each press of his lips sends shivers racing down your spine, igniting a fire within you that mirrors the rhythm of his thrusts.

the kiss grows sloppier; breaths become heavy and desperate as you both lose yourselves in each other. saliva mixes as you moan into his mouth, the sounds echoing in the confined space of the car. choso pulls away just enough to lock eyes with you, his gaze dark with lust and hunger.

“you’re driving me insane,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire before he crashes his lips back onto yours. the urgency intensifies, each kiss more fervent than the last, as if he’s trying to claim every part of you. 

with a sudden burst of playful dominance he snakes his hands down to your ass, he slaps your flesh hard enough to send a jolt of pleasure through you, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he watches your reaction.

“yeaaa you like that shit, huh? i bet you-“

his words are cut short when you hear the doors attempt to open. you glance at riko, who’s struggling to unlock the door. before you can react, the driver unlocks it, and riko comes flying into the back seat beside you and choso.

your walls clamp down around his thick cock as he groans lowly, the thought of getting caught sending a thrill through you. you bury your face into his neck, inhaling his husky cologne.

“what the hell are y’all doing?” riko asks, glancing at your awkward position on choso’s lap, head hidden in his neck.

“she’s sleeping,” choso replies quietly, raising a finger to his lips to signal silence. everyone nods, but you can feel choso smirking as you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood.

as the car starts moving again, your eyes nearly pop out of your sockets when it begins to shake. the bumpy road makes you bounce on his cock, and you instinctively grind down, feeling him tense beneath you. his eyes flutter as he watches your hips move, knowing exactly how to make him crumble.

“cut the shit, you two- we already know you aren’t sleeping,” nobara says, pointing at the dashcam that’s connected to one of their phones.

they heard everything,

fuck.

NANAMI KENTO

“let’s just fuck it out mama, we can’t be separated.”  

“you’re ridiculous,” you scoff, sitting cross-legged in the divorce attorney's office once the door shut closed.

“we need a moment to speak alone,” nanami had asked your attorney as he left, but he was nowhere near wanting to talk and you knew that the moment the two of you were alone.

“ridiculous? this isn’t even the worst place we’ve fucked,” he taunts, rising from his chair and leaning against the desk, his hazel eyes scanning your figure—something he could never get enough of.

“sign the papers,” you say through gritted teeth, but he smirks, clearly not listening as he admires how beautiful you look in the skin tight dress.

“sign- fuckkk,” you cry out as you’re now bent over your attorneys desk, your black dress hiked up to your waist as nanami ruthlessly pounds his cock into your sore pussy as your walls welcomes him back with a warm and slimey snug. within a split second you’ve become a sobbing cock-drunk mess, your tears staining the important documents that are now scrunched up from being smothered underneath your breast.

nanamis thick fingers grip your sides as he rams his cock deep into you, this speed almost too much for you that you feel as if he’s deep in your guts. he desk shakes beneath you, pens and papers tumbling to the floor, but in this moment, nothing else matters. all that exists is the connection between you, a powerful force that consumes your thoughts and senses.

your knees buckle as he lifts you up, steadying you to keep your balance. “c’mon wifey, what about our future kids? you reallyyy want me to sign it?” he teases, his voice playful yet charged with intensity. you find yourself crying out incoherent sentences, lost in the overwhelming sensation of how good he feels.

“s-sign it,” you shudder as his thrusts intensify, you can hear the animalistic growl he lets out once he felt you squeeze tighter. feeling the tension between you as he pulls you closer. his large hand grips your hair, pulling you closer to his chest as you back arches up from the messy desk. your pussy squeaks out broken sobs as he rams his cock sooo deep that you see a small bulge forming in your lower tummy.

“what’s our lawyer going to think, huh? I spent a lotta money for his services,” he rasps, his thrusts growing deeper and more meaningful, as if to prove that you cannot leave him.

“k-kennn, fuckk,” you moan as he tugs harder on your hair, your body trembling as tears spill down your cheeks. he doesn’t care where you are- all that matters is the pleasure coursing through you. a devilish grin spreads across his face, knowing exactly how to push your buttons and drive you wild.

“i know, sweetheart—I know. just let it allll go,” he sings, encouraging you as he coaxed you toward your intense orgasm. soft “oohs” and “ahhs” escape your glossy lips as warmth pools in your belly, your slick walls tightening around him, practically suffocating his throbbing cock.

“hgnn—gonna milk me dry, baby,” nanami stutters, feeling his balls tighten painfully as his breaths become sloppy and jagged. he snakes his hand from your hair to your throat, possessively gripping you just tight enough to spark thrill without pain, amplifying the waves of pleasure that crash over you and drawing your intense orgasm closer with every pulse.

you bite your lower lip hard as you both come undone in perfect sync, a skill nanami has mastered. your walls flutter around him as his hot release fills you, feeling his thick seed plunge deep within your womb. your vision blurs and your ears ring; it’s so messy that your mixed juices cling between your thighs, sticky and gooey.

your mind is so dizzy that you don’t even notice when he gently places you on the desk, your back crumpling the papers beneath you as your legs are pressed against your chest. your permanent anklet dangles and glimmers in the natural light, the diamond ‘K.N.’ charm a constant reminder that he will always be with you, no matter what.

your eyes lazily flutter open to find nanami kissing your inner thighs, your legs still trembling from your previous orgasm. his lips graze your swollen folds, causing your body to jolt in response. nanami's eyes glimmer with amusement as he watches globs of your mixed essence drip down onto the papers creating a small pool on the wooden desk.

“mmm, you sure came a lot for someone who wants a divorce,” he taunts, bringing his cool wedding band back to your throbbing core, globs of cum coating the once-gold ring in a sticky white layer. you gasp at the metallic sensation as he rubs the ring against your swollen clit, toying with you while you sob incoherent sentences. your eyes dart to the door, where you catch a glimpse of shadows peeking through the window. panic rises in your throat as you try desperately to signal to nanami that there are people watching.

but oh he knows,

he knows very well that the entire floor heard the scandalous things you two were doing, and he wants everyone to know.

without warning, nanami plunges his warm tongue into your sopping core, savouring every drop of your arousal as he hums against you. the vibrations sends shivers through your body, and you can feel him revealing in the taste, his tongue exploring every inch with a deliberate slowness that drives you wild. he laps up your juices eagerly, occasionally grazing your sensitive nub with his teeth, teasingly biting it just enough to send waves of pleasure coursing through you. it feels as if he’s determined to make you scream for everyone to hear.

the loud slurping fills the room, making you cringe at how messy and indulgent he is, yet your body craves him more with each passing moment. you feel yourself teetering on the edge, lost in the pleasure he’s giving you, when suddenly, just as you're about to beg for more, the door swings open. several flustered lawyers stand in the doorway, their eyes wide with shock.

“u-uhm, mr. and mrs. nanami, the p-police are outside…”

[tahbhie]

How to Stop Hating Everything You Write

1. Don't be afraid of making mistakes.

Quit judging yourself for every mistake you make along the way. Whether you're writing fiction, fanfiction, or nonfiction, just write. If you can't correct your errors as you go, that's okay. When I don't have the brainpower to multitask, I focus on the writing stage one step at a time. Just write!

2. Don't aim for perfection.

"It's not ready if it's not perfect." That's a lie. When you're in the process of writing, it's best to concentrate on getting your thoughts on paper.

3. Seek feedback and learn to receive it.

Join lively communities with active writers or forums that host events inviting writers to share their work for critique. Not every critique is constructive; learn to discern which feedback to take on board and which to ignore.

4. Read, read, read.

You can't give what you don't have. You learn a lot from reading similar pieces in your chosen genre. Reading is also a source of inspiration that fuels your writing process.

5. Cut yourself some slack.

Writing is no small feat. It takes talent to formulate a story with your mind and skill to visualize it for others to see. Do you love writing? Then keep doing it because it takes practice.

Looking for a supportive community dedicated to helping you grow as a writer? Join the Writers Universe server and thrive!

[requiemforthepoets]

you say good morning, when it's midnight ⟢ OP81

main masterlist | fic playlist | series masterlist

PAIRINGS: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: you and oscar grew up together, and despite being neighbors and best friends with her sister, hattie, you never really talked or had a conversation with him. until one day, where he randomly texted you out of nowhere.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: use of y/n, inaccurate information, fluff, humor (i try), and minor typographical errors

WORD COUNT: none

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hello, it's been a while since i last posted. i decided to take a break from writing and i also decided to run a new blog, and i'm on my other blog. this idea is only a spur in the moment kind of thing, i saw one conversation and ever since it had been an idea in my head. this one will be a socmed au, and inspired by simple plan's song 'jet lag'! also, there's this one panel where there was a name there, don't mind it bc i'm too lazy to edit it out haha lol. i hope you'll enjoy this one, and i'm pretty much open in making this a series, so pls lmk your thoughts about it!

yn.jpg 🔒

liked by hattiepiastri, and 126 others

yn.jpg just another day of me romanticizing my life as a neuro student 😗✨

view all 5 comments

hattiepiastri YOU GOT THIS BESTIE! CAN'T WAIT TO SEE YOU NEXT WEEK! ♥︎ liked by author

yn.jpg the only thing that's keeping me going is that i'll be seeing you next week!!! 🥹

yourmom You got this, darling! I love you ❤️ ♥︎ liked by author

yn.jpg love u too, mom 🥹💖

𓆉𓆝𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓇼

𓆉𓆝𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓇼

[screampied]

𝜗𝜚 ( 6 ) TAPES FOUND BY "SCREAMPIED"

𓉸ྀི an. hi people welcome to my first kinktober event! some things may be scrapped + tweaked or added on but i will try my best to complete them all. make sure to heed each of the warnings before each fic. happy almost spooky season! ૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა taglist : closed

𓉸ྀི cw. all “tapes” will contain explicit content and will each be tagged accordingly with their proper warnings.

TAPE ONE — BLOODLINE.

feat. vampires! sukuna ‘n choso + threesomes.

؏  summary. when they’re both 10s but they’re also vampires. hungry blood-thirsty vampires who’ll stop at nothing to claim you. with how sweet you taste, maybe humans aren’t so bad after all.

cw. vampire! au, threesomes, double penetratíon, manhandling, spít-roasting.

RARE TAPE FOUND: MAKE ME JUNO!

feat. sukuna, choso, geto, toji, gojo + breeding / baby fever

؏  summary. when they’re just so find that you’d let them make you juno . . you know.

TAPE TWO — WANNA PLAY PSYCHO KILLER?

feat. ghostface!toji + roleplay / knife play.

؏ summary. you know girl, usually when someone’s about to get stabbed, they scream—not moan. ghostface is supposed to be scary, intimidating, terrifying. but what happens when he’s tall, hot, and has a scar that runs down the right side of his lip? maybe his motive this time was to make you scream out his name in another way. welcome to act three.

cw. slight dacryphilia, glove + mask fetish, manhandling, body worship, corruption kink.

TAPE THREE — THE PARTY & THE AFTER PARTY.

feat. stripper!geto + dry humping.

؏ summary. the last thing you’d expect for a surprise birthday present by your friends was a visit to a men’s strip club. geto suguru—your dancer’s got it all. tall, handsome, and he wants waaay more than just thirty minutes with you.

cw. switch geto, lap dancing, choking, 69, dry humping, nipple play.

RARE TAPE FOUND: DEATH BY SÉX!

feat. sukuna, choso, geto, toji, sukuna, gojo + overstim.

؏ summary. his fatal cause of death? op – overly pussydrunk. the prime suspect? located right between your pretty legs.

TAPE FOUR — THE GRUDGE!

feat. ex-husband! gojo + hate séx.

؏ summary. perhaps screwing your ex-husband while the kids are out trick-or-treating wasn’t the best but with him, the only treat he wants to trick is not in a basket, it’s right between your legs… boo!

cw. brat taming, hate séx that turns into make-up séx, body worship, brēeding kink.

TAPE FIVE — ERROR..

TAPE SIXX — ERROR..

extras mini-tapes.

nanami rubbing his wedding ring against her.

choso making you sqúirt since you ‘can’t’ finish.

nerd! nanami teaching you anatomy of the clít.

edit: i switched some things out but i might add things later!

filmed by screampied.

[chocochiffonnn]

➸ Pairing: Boss! Park Sunghoon x Reader

➸ Word Count: 18k.

➸ Synopsis: Landing your first job at a high and well-respected corporation is a big deal. You had the skills, the knowledge, and luckily— the patience of being the secretary of an overbearing man. When things are starting to get a little smoother in navigating his demands, you were suddenly sent on a business meeting to France. And what's worse? You were going to the trip with him alone.Or basically, a story in which you navigate your true feelings in the streets of Paris, and ultimately, go home devastated.

➸ Themes: kind of enemies to lovers, work AU.

➸ Warnings: Sunghoon is mean at first, reader doesn't give in easily kind of, a bit of angst if you squint, SUGGESTIVE!!! (not comfy? leave.) i kind of also rushed the ending lol.

➸ Author's Note: HERE IT ISSSS! i hope you guys enjoy reading my second full fic on this account! this was so fun to make. as usual, reblogs, likes, and comments are much appreciated. tysm! ^_^

➸ Taglist: @em-asian @ikeumina @weyukinluv @mariegibeau @rairaiblog @immelissaaa @seokseokjinkim @jaehaki @saeeeee5 @areumhwang2000 @cutehoons02 @fancypeacepersona @sadgirlluvsmoney @gizellesaeriaaaa @stta-princess

FOR YEARS ON END— INSTANT NOODLES LEFT A BITTER TASTE IN YOUR MOUTH.

‘The Combo of 3C’s’ as though you’d like to call it. Cup noodles. Canned goods. Cheap soups. Any affordable but edible dish the market had for a broke college student attempting to survive. With piles and piles of loans, an hour of sleep per day and practically being slaved off to society— somehow, through luck, you’re still alive and thriving.

Perhaps not so the same for your arteries or blood vessels practically gnawing away at the ultimately highly processed foods you ate per day, point still stands.

You’re alive and thriving, at age 23, on the way to your first job— Park Corporation.

The degree that you slaved away to landed you this huge job. This huge fucking ass job.

Which perhaps is worth the hellish four years you've spent suffering, because you've heard of this before. Scratch that, you've heard of this everywhere. Park Corporations, one of the leading companies in Korea. If not, the leading company of Korea. Known for its hefty business and sales, this corporation practically thrives in wealth and riches.

Oh, and for you to land such a job for your first time?

That much was a feat. You were not only lucky, but also skilled. It was a given by now, with the way the Rolls Royce of these employees dropped off at the ridiculously large glass walls of the company, do you realize that— class matters. And status matters.

And luckily, you took matters into your own hands prior to leaving your house. You wore pinstripe trousers paired with black kitten heels and a fitted white button up, your hair was put in a sleek ponytail, and your wrist and neck was adorned with necklaces and bracelets that shone with simplicity. An outfit that commanded attention, and an aura that screamed tenacity.

You looked as presentable as ever, no loops, no error, and no gaps in the system. Because from the years of navigating through life, you remained certain for one thing— you allowed room for no mistakes. This was your only shot in making your years at work as smooth as it could possibly be with these bigshots, and ultimately, this first day will mark the rest of your working life.

And so, you entered the company with a confident stride. Bold, brave, and daring, absolutely determined to experience the taste of anything else but instant noodles.

The pristine walls of the facility felt dystopian.

After inquiring over at the counter, ultimately already being recognized as the newly hired employee in addition to the supposed planning department, you were redirected to an office at the fifteenth floor.

At the fifteenth fucking floor.

Now, you usually never assumed floors as the basis for employee importance, but you kind of did now. Probably a hierarchal thing that a pyramid usually is. The higher you are, the better.

The floor was busy, as in, busy, busy. Upon your presence at the elevator, some employees walked like crazy all over the place. Making calls and inquiries, group discussions over some papers—

“Excuse me, I—”

“Not now miss, the department is busy.”

“Excuse me?”

It came so suddenly, a response from a short, stubby guy who was conversing in a discussion with one of the employees. It was definitely directed at you, but you just had to make sure,

“Who are you and why are you here? Miss, questions are entertained over at the counter at the ground floor, not here—”

“Oh, I’m actually told to go here.”

“What?”

The short stubby guy halts his conversation with the other employee. Suddenly, it felt like no one was too busy anymore, it was no longer noisy. “The person at the counter told me to go here. I’m going to be the new employee.”

You emphasized the I’m part. To let him know you know your place and that you aren’t budging in like what he was visibly implying with the frown on his face. His distaste was as clear as day. “We’ve not been informed that a new employee will join this department.”

You were surprised, “Really? I was told down there this department should already know and that I’ll be directed and guided directly by the employees here.”

"Really? We should be informed about it then. Since we are not—"

"I can accompany you over at the counter to testify my response if you doubt me... Sir."

Yikes. That honorifics felt forced.

No one dared to interrupt, you hear a few gasps from some of the employees. Hell, even the short guy was stunned and once again, visibly offended. "Excuse me?"

"Or if there's a phone connecting this department with the counter, we can—"

"There is absolutely no need. I shall confirm it myself."

"... Alright." You nod, oblivious to his stomps as he walked over your direction. He stood a few steps away, eyeing you up and down, down and up. Well, that goes for your first impression here at the company. You didn’t eye him, but you stared at him in question. He looked like he was in his mid-30’s, with a mustache, bald spot, and all that.

You dared not budged, as if challenging him, telling him— No, you don’t get to say that. I know what I heard.

But he looked stubborn, so you chose not to press and silently follow his tantrum steps down to the ground floor, opting to stay a few distances away from the man.

“Yes, she’s assigned over at the planning department, starting today.”

The registrar at the counter, as poised as ever, typing away at her laptop. She’d just confirmed what you’d heard. You looked at the man who was stunned beyond belief. “What do you mean? Don’t all newly hired employees go to—”

“Orientation? Yes, that was last week, Mr. Kim.”

Mr. Kim, huh?

You felt his blood boil, the clench on his fist tightened as his bald spot fumed like a volcano. (if that was even possible)

“No, we can’t—”

The clerk suddenly bounced to her feet, closing her laptop and disregarding the man as she left her table and scurried off. “Yah! The conversation is not yet done, Yeri—”

“The Parks have arrived!”

She— Yeri, intervenes, stomping through her heels and walking towards the entrance along with the other employees who seemed to have gotten the memo. It seemed this Mr. Kim was stunned too, following Yeri as he shouted, “What are you doing just standing there?! Line up!”

With a nod, you followed him towards the entrance and group along a couple employees chattering about the Parks in an aimless manner,

“Mr. Sungwoo has called in a meeting today for the company plans after being discharged from the hospital.”

“Really?! I hope the CEO isn’t pushing himself too hard, working shouldn’t even be an option in that state.”

“I know right?! But I guess he really loves this company and his family.”

“Speaking of family, I heard the CEO is bringing his children along.”

“You mean Park Sunghoon and Park Yeji? Gosh! I’d kill to see them in person.”

“You’d pass out in person. They’re just as beautiful and attractive as the news make them out to be!”

The Parks. A family who owned the company you are to work in. You’ve seen them before, in news and television. Headlines surrounding their reputation never faltered, neither did it bounce off to another company’s name. The Parks remained consistent, perhaps their lineage being that lucky to be blessed with business minded people who strive towards perfection. In this case, perfection in work and in looks.

Park Sungwoo— coined as the CEO of the company. It had been twelve years since he inherited the job from his father, described by the press as a worhkaholic ever since he stepped into the realm of business.

His wife, Park Soojin, though not entirely being the center of attention, was described to be just as meticulous. You don’t know much about her, though.

And as describes by the media— the golden children, per se, Park Sunghoon and Park Yeji.

Park Yeji— 18, a fashion design major. Someone who strayed away from the family inheritance, seemingly going down a path of her own with her creatives.

And Park Sunghoon, the soon to be CEO of the company. Someone sharp, quick-witted, and too prepared for his own good. He looked too stoic, too robotic. His response during interviews were concise, he barely laughed, smiled, no crinkles or smile lines were visible on his face, which made you think he must be a humanoid or something.

No one can deny the fact that the genes of the family deemed strong, though. God, they were sculpted to perfection.

The employees halted their chattering, an indicator that the family was here. All eyes pointed towards the building, the employees and guards lined up. Then, they came in.

Park Sungwoo, Park Sunghoon, and Perk Yeji in the flesh. Their prim and proper suits and perhaps million dollar shoes reverberating through the room. Hell, the cameras don’t even come close to what they look like in real life.

“Good morning!”

The employees bowed, confused, you bowed as well. You stood up, in utter awe of their presence in full sight. They walked with respect, nodding at the short greetings coming upon them. Park Sungwoo grins, so does Park Yeji. But Sunghoon doesn’t, opting to nod along as he meddled with the sleeve of his vest.

Then you see him, and he sees you.

It doesn’t matter that it was but a brief moment, it was a moment regardless.

Thus marked your first technical interaction amongst plenty with him.

And today, this one, would at most be the most peaceful one you’d have yet.

When things don’t go according to plan, you somehow, always found a way.

Prior to working at Park Corporations, you’d always consider yourself to be someone observant and keen with details. Paired with a rather straightforward mouth and a mind that had a single goal— work for you had to be piles of paper riddled with precision and absolutely no mistakes at all.

It had been around a year of tapping your way into this industry, specifically, a department which had more or less appreciated your presence in the very room. One of who, is your co-worker, Kim Sunoo, who you became close with the moment you started working. He was quite the opposite, optimistic and bright in ever circumstances, it was like the universe circled in his head like a halo.

Navigating through the office and the workload had been easier because of his guidance, much like right now. The two of you meticulously worked on a particular paper, thoroughly scanning its premises before it was to be passed on to the next department .

“The plan is too out of reach, the budget department won’t approve of this.” Sunoo says, flipping through the papers as he ran his hand through his hair. “They won’t even consider it as an option.”

You follow, taping a sticky note with a commentary— to be returned— written on it. It was a particular Wednesday morning, the middle of the week sickness had gotten to you and you find yourself lazying away a bit more than usual. For some people, it was Monday. For you, it just had to be Wednesday.

And somehow, you just had to receive a sudden memo.

A memo which contained a direct visit from the CEO and his son himself. Supposedly, they were going through different departments for monitoring, and it was safe to say you had the privilege of being visited any minute.

“Good morning, Mr. Sungwoo! Mr. Sunghoon!”

Or perhaps, that moment was right now.

You quickly stood up, Sunoo does too, surprised at the sudden appearance. You are totally not informed it would be this soon. All of the employees bowed, a string of tension hanging in the air as they awaited the two men. Mr. Sungwoo looks around, hands on his back as he, as usual, smiled gently at his employees. And as usual, Park Sunghoon only nods.

“How is the department going on here? Any significant changes?”

Sunoo nudges you,

“Ah.”

You almost forgot. You were the department head now.

You quickly grabbed your clipboard, approaching the two men as you scanned through the contents of the compiled papers the department had been working on.

You stood a few steps away from Mr. Sungwoo, his brow raised as he awaits for your response. Mr. Sunghoon simply stares, blank written on his face. “As for the past month’s progress, the planning department has approved of five ongoing projects per department that seemed doable with the budget and premises at hand.”

You flip through a page, “this department also proposed a few projects in its own with regards to the company’s revenue.”

“And what might those be?”

Mr. Sungwoo seemed intrigued with the way you spoke, the way you carried yourself in front of him. Endless scanning through these papers and analyzing their probabilities and occurence was a routine, and by this point, you even had some of the project proposals memorized like the back of your hand.

So, when you finished proposing after what seemed like an hour, Mr. Sungwoo was stunned. Both by the preparedness, and the fact that he perhaps had to stand for half an hour listening to your yapping. The employees, albeit having the urge to sit down, listened aimlessly at the way you presented. Of course, the papers would not have been this organized if not for the fact that they too, worked hard to make it happen.

“I see everything is already under control. Who is your assistant in this department?”

You raise a brow, “Kim Sunoo, sir.”

“Do you say he works well under different circumstances?”

“… Yes, sir.”

He nods, “I’ll have my secretary get in touch with you then.”

Without another word, the two left the department office, leaving you dumbfounded and at loss for words. What in the world?

And that, officially, would mark your second interaction with Park Sunghoon.

One of the many, insufferable, ones you’d yet to encounter in the future.

A week after, you were met with major changes in your department.

Major. Major changes. Not the— a new co-worker has transferred into your department changes— type of change. But someone is transferring,

And that someone is you.

After being called into the office of the CEO, Mr. Sungwoo tells you he finds himself in a predicament, stuck between three options. He told you he would rather have his secretary deal with the issue at hand, but given that the circumstances would require the most encouraging words with not from anyone else but himself, he opted to send you in and announce something shocking.

Shocking, as in, scary, catastrophic, dangerous, and freaking— what the actual fuck?!?— type of response. The type of shock that had even your poised ass in front of him all stumbling and hesitating. Because what the actual fuck?

These were his statements during your discussion with him:

1. Mr. Sungwoo, the CEO of one of the largest corporations is getting old.

2. He is considering to pass on his position to his son, Park Sunghoon.

3. Park Sunghoon has already trained and managed for years on end, earning him the trust from his father.

4. The following shift in agendas would require Park Sunghoon to have a secretary by his side.

5. He offered the secretary position to you.

6. He apologized beforehand.

7. He also told you some encouraging words, if that made things a little better.

The last part was comparable to a warning, a little cautionary signal that told you to stray away. You had a choice, it was to take the job or leave it.

Simply put— risk the chance for a higher pay or remain satisfied and contented with what you earn now.

And to be even more simply put— deal with the fucking consequences or abstain and repeat every office morning routine.

And you never back down for a challenge, much less, the opportunity of earning more money at that.

So what’s a little shift in schedule have to do with anything? You’re still working, and though the tides may turn differently in your field of work, it doesn’t matter.

It’s just a little risk, right?

The first task of officially being given the title of secretary was simple, it was to accompany Park Sunghoon’s schedule each day of the week. After being dispatched and told you are the start immediately the following day, needless to say, some adjustments had to be made in the span of a few hours.

After bidding playful goodbyes with your co-workers the previous day, you urgently began to fix your schedule for tomorrow and perhaps, for the rest of this whole ordeal. You ultimately got the gist of what his schedule would be during weekdays, so that was a start. But first, it all begins with Mr. Sunghoon’s work time. The last time you’d seen him enter the building, it was a little over thirty minutes after the official call time.

8:30.

Park Sunghoon arrives. With your best foot forward, you strut towards his limousine as the guard opens the door and out came the man in full glory. Dressed in his suit, he looked as handsome as ever, bathing in his white skin. God, he looked like a vampire. A very, very hot vampire.

“Good morning, sir.”

You greet, Sunghoon briefly looks at you, raises a brow, before continuing to walk along like you had not exist.

…. Okay?

“Mr. Park, starting today, I’m going to be the secretary under your position.”

His long legs keep on walking and you try your best to keep up. “Can you stop following me?”

You were flabberghasted beyond belief. What stupid words to come out from such a terribly attractive man!

“Sir, I have to. I’m the new secretary.”

Déjà Vu much?

“I don’t need a secretary. Who put you in that position?”

“Your father, sir.”

Sunghoon stops in his tracks, sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingertips. At this point, the two of you are already at the elevator. You somehow managed to keep up with long-legged man. “I already told my father I don’t need a secretary.” Sunghoon says, stern, decisive. Not once had he even spared a glance that lasted more than a second, but you are not one to back down.

“And your father told me sir that you very well need one before he gives you his position.”

“I don’t need one, are you deaf?”

Something in your system boils, suddenly, you find yourself clenching your jaw and balling your fist. Keep calm, keep calm. It’s only the first day.

The first freaking degradading comment ever out of million ones that’ll presumably come out of his mouth. Now, you took the hint as to why his father apologized. Now, you know why his face looked sympathetic the moment he talked to you.

It’s because his son had such a colorful way with words. In short— Park Sunghoon is rude.

And to work under someone who spouted such nonsense when all you want to do is get business straight?

He’s gotta be kidding you.

“By all means, sir. This is by the order of your father. I am not deaf, I would highly appreciate it if you don’t speak to me in such a manner.”

Sunghoon’s ears perked as the elevator door opens. You still walked alongside him, though at a much more paced and less hurried manner. “Oh? And how should I be talking to you?” He wasn’t looking at you, but you can feel a smirk gnawing away at his face.

“With respect, sir. I may only be an employee, but we should get things straight. I am here for my job, and you are rude.” You sigh, “So I would appreciate it if you cooperate a bit more and make things a little bit easier for the both of us.”

There it was, the word rude, coming straight at him in quick speed. And when Park Sunghoon stops in his tracks, you know you’ve caught him.

He turns around, raising a brow, “Rude? Me? Do you know what you sound like talking to your boss right now?”

“Okay— this argument is over with. You comply and agree that you are my boss, and I am the secretary. Clear? You said it yourself, Mr. Park.”

Needless to say, Sunghoon bit back his words. Cat got his tongue? You’ve caught a little loophole in his choice of sentences, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you somewhat satisfied. Good for him.

“Now for today’s agenda, you have a meeting in five with—”

“I know. I don’t need you telling me.”

With that, Sunghoon storms off like a little kid that had their candy taken away from them. A professional little kid. He knows you had him beat right now, and he refuses to admit it anyways.

You smiled.

You: 1 point.

Park Sunghoon: 0.

It’s always really the moment when you least expect it.

One moment, you were a minute away from your dismissal time.

The next, Sunghoon is already in front of your desk in his office, with piles of paperwork to be encoded, sorted, and submitted by tonight. Tonight as in— in four hours time.

He was definitely doing it on purpose, with the way he grins so smugly when he saw your horrified face at the stash of documents as big as his ego. You were all powdered and cologned up, ready to finally debrief and sink into your bed, but Park Sunghoon is a menace. He isn’t letting you have all of that glory.

“I need these by tonight.” He says, you can see him fighting back a laugh. “Tonight?” You confirm. He nods not once, not twice, but thrice. Very, very, slowly too. He was taunting you, his actions made you internally rip your hair out.

You scan through the files to check their due date— for fuck’s sake! They were due the following week!

“Mr. Park, some of these are due next week,” You say, as you confirm some of the paper's dates, yet Sunghoon only nods, “I want to clear my desks and tasks as soon as possible, it’s why I need them by tonight.”

Sunghoon smiles, gently smiles. But you know better. “First day on the job secretary? I have a lot more of those.”

He then turns to leave.

You feel your anger bubble up, it was obvious he wanted to rile you up. And the worst part? It was working. You hated missed deadlines, you hated procastinating, most of all, you hated work that was beyond your schedule for that certain day.

But you refrained from shouting, the unprofessional action will immediately have you fired. Instead, you sighed ever so heavily and sat your weight down your the chair.

It looks like you weren’t going to get any sleep tonight.

The torture didn’t stop there.

Park Sunghoon had tricks up sleeve. It had to be his talent or something— pissing you off that is.

For the first few weeks, his days consisted of everything and anything that’ll annoy any sane being and turn them into a tyrant.

For one, he refuses to drink his coffee if it isn’t a specific temperature. He keeps a thermometer lying around, every time you deliver him your morning coffee, it would have to be a specific temperature depending on his mood.

And when he doesn’t get it?

He makes you repeat it.

Two, he started stashing all of his assigned paperworks over to you when you least expect it. Given the first occurence during your first day, it was certain that Park Sunghoon was bound to do it again. And he does, every single time he felt like it.

When the day seemed to be going too well, Park Sunghoon was there to shove a mountain full of papers in front of your face.

Three, he modifies his schedule. Not just a couple of tweaks here and there, but he modifies his scheduled tasks for the whole entire week, rescheduling it in a certain day he deemed fit. And the worst part? You had to be the one to call and reach out to these schedules at hand in order to organize the schedules and tell them that Park Sunghoon has had a change of heart.

There is a fourth one, a fifth, a sixth, his tactics ranged and stretched into a hundred. And the worst part for him?

You handled it frustrated, but you handled it nonetheless. Not with ease, yet with the required professionalism and patience for the job. He’s immature that’s for sure, but it was obvious he was doing to it to spite you.

It frustrates you, but you refuse to show that to him. And it frustrates him too, yet he refuse to let you see it. So, it was a back and forth process of Sunghoon torturing you with everything, and you dealing with it in a way that it tortures him as well.

You could feel it, you could sense that he wanted to put you down from the position, to have you let go of the spot because he was too much, or too strict, or too annoying. However, you remain persistent. You were not letting Sunghoon get the best of you.

He wants his coffee at a specific temperature and keeps demanding you to make it to his liking?

Fine, you’ll reheat the coffee and burn your fingertips regardless.

He piles up his paperworks onto your shoulders?

Fine, you’ll get them done and look like a zombie the following day.

He tweaks his schedule in the most unimaginable ways possible?

Fine, you’ll deal with the hassle of the receiving end shouting at you for making sudden changes

He wasn’t going to make you leave the spot you’ve worked so hard for.

“I need these by tomorrow, have them arranged right away.” Came another pile of folders. It was a routine by now, each night, Park Sunghoon would load your table with this. At this point, your eyes were riddled with dark circles, your lips were cracked and dry from all the endless nibbling away.

You had no snarky response coming along his way, you only nodded. You were intent on finishing the task as soon as possible, every second counted. Arguing with him would simply waste a solid ten seconds.

You spent those ten seconds typing away, folding one of the finished folder, grabbing the rest of the stack for arranging. You didn’t really feel Sunghoon’s presence, but he was already behind your back. From the reflection of your desktop, you see his arms crossed.

“Sir, it’s 11 PM, you should be going home by now.”

Perhaps there was some bitterness in the tone. You don’t see it, but Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “It’s good.”

“What?”

“That—”

He points towards the file, “You work good.”

You had to cleanse your ears upon hearing what he’d just said. No way. All drowsiness from your eyes dissipated and you were left shocked, “Excuse me?”

Sunghoon coughs, “I’m going. Make sure you finish that by tonight.”

Your back was turned against him, so you don’t see him leave. You couldn’t.

Fuck. What was that?

It goes on for a few more days.

It’s odd.

Park Sunghoon demands a redo of his coffee, not five times, but only twice now. He gives you the same amount of work, but stays behind a couple minutes to comment on your work albeit it being positive or negative. He doesn’t just leave without notice anymore. And his changes with his schedule become less frequent— all the annoying and meticulous things about it lessened.

And you don’t know whether you should be creeped out or glad.

“You have a meeting with the HR department in an hour,” Flipping through your clipboard, you step inside the elevator with him. It had currently been two months since you’ve been given the position. Physically? You already lost a couple of pounds due to skipping meals and staying up late from Park Sunghoon’s orders. Mentally? It felt like your mind was suffering from intense drought.

Financially? You were doing great. Better than great. You were sustaining more than enough, even having left over money to spend on new work clothes. The job was brutal, but it had you elevating from your old economic status.

You ticked one of the box from the checklist, Sunghoon does not respond. No snarky comments, no barking back. He just nods. “Not much schedule for this afternoon. Your father requests for your presence at dinner, sir.”

“Who else is included?” Sunghoon asks, you quirk a brow, “Family dinner, sir. So expect your family to be there.”

You almost missed it, the way Sunghoon’s jaw clenched and the way his teeth gritted. “Cancel it, tell father I can’t come.”

“You can’t miss out sir, your father’s been noticing your absence in plenty of the family dinner arrangements.”

“I said to cancel the damn plan.”

He seethes, perhaps with more weight and force than intended. Surprised, you stumble on your own words, “Ah— Alright, I’ll contact your father and see what I can do.”

The weight of the air lingered on your part, perhaps on Sunghoon’s too. He sighs after a few seconds, twisting his head to the side. “Sorry. I just don’t want to be attending any family stuff right now.”

“I understand.”

You nod, taking a quick note to once again, earn a handful of scolding from his father. The words that should be directed to Sunghoon himself pointed towards his secretary instead. When his father harbors some scoldings for his son, it goes to you most of the time.

Still, this matter must be something that Sunghoon deemed to be untouchable. A sensitive topic on his part, so you don’t push.

For the rest of the budding morning and afternoon, Sunghoon attended to the rest of his tasks and agendas.

Until night eventually came and you prepared yourself for another set of hefty tasks from him.

Yet none came.

7:50 PM.

Ten minutes before his official dismissal, Sunghoon usually gives his tasks a minute late, so you had to keep your guard up.

But nothing came. All you see is Sunghoon coming out of his office, wearing his long coat as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of it. You observed his actions, the way he closed the door, he walked— he carried no papers at all.

“Sir, the files?” You ask him, expectant. Sunghoon looks over your direction, he thinks for a moment before he eventually spoke, “Go home early tonight. There is none.”

You blinked. Once, twice, thrice. The fingers that had flexed towards the keyboard, sharp and stretched, ready for the long hours of exhaustion. Eventually, Sunghoon noticed your absent-mindedness as his brow rose. “I said there’s none, you can go home now.”

You must definitely be hearing things. You slap your head lightly, shaking it and blinking your eyes to make sure you weren’t dreaming. You aren’t.

Park Sunghoon— your absolute menace of a boss finally lets you out early for the first time?

What a fucking steal!

Something must be terribly wrong or disoriented with the universe right now with the way he is acting.

But you’d be a little idiotic not to harness this once in a lifetime opportunity. Thus with an enthusiastic jump from your seat, you quickly fixed your table— absolutely ready to go home and feast on one of your latest series.

Sunghoon merely watches you as you hurriedly pack up. In your defense, you had to or else something might shift his mood and might make you stay even longer. Once done, you strapped your bag in your shoulder.

Sunghoon stands a few distances away, a smug grin tugging at his face, “That excited?” He says. You nod, “I’m going home relatively early for the first time, I have to go before you change your mind.”

Sunghoon chuckles— actually chuckles. Even the heavens blessed him with such a beautiful chuckle, it was actually insane. You start to walk towards the door, so does Sunghoon. It wasn’t of much attention before, but now, the height difference between the two of you is very prominent.

His broad sculpted shoulders made little to no effort to humble your frame that was smaller than him. He could pass as a model, in all honesty. What most people fail to realize however, are the moles that fainted his face much like a signature on an official piece of paper.

The way down was unimaginably quite, the sound of the night coming in full play. The sky was already dark, still, you had to take a bus on the way home. The elevator of the ground floor opens, but before you can even fathom, much less go out, Sunghoon presses the close button and immediately hits the basement.

“Um, sir, I don’t—”

“I know.”

“Then why—”

“I’m offering you a free ride.”

He’s offering a what now?

“I can—”

“It’s already late and dangerous. Relax, I won’t kill you.”

Once the elevator opens at the basement, he steps forward and walks ahead. You merely followed, surprised by the sudden offer.

He won’t kill you but he’ll probably leave you the middle of nowehere, right?

“I’m not dropping you in the middle of nowhere.”

“Oh.”

You nod, embarrassed that he could read your thoughts. The two of you reached his car, his watchamacallit model whatever car that probably costs your whole entire organ system or existence. He opens the car door on the left, “Sir, are you sure?”

You ask one last time. “No, just rot there.”

And so you do. You stand there, albeit almost holding the car door. You swiftly let go and stay in place. What an ass.

Sunghoon starts his car, reaching over for the mirror on your side and rolling it down. “What? You’re actually gonna stand there?”

You nod. “That’s what you said.”

“What?” Sunghoon scoffs, eyeing you from inside the car. He pokes his cheek with his tongue, tilting his head ever so slightly, “Get inside, I can’t believe you took that seriously."

“Of course I will.” You mumble under your breath, opening the car door and getting inside his pristine car. The scent came wafting in, the strong particular odor tingling down your senses. The one he always used at work, the scent you’ve come to memorize every time you walked beside him. Similar to laundry detergent, soapy, airy— something so clean and fresh.

Somehow, the scent suited him.

Sunghoon puts his hand on the wheel, you weren’t very familiar with the mechanics of driving, but hell was he good at it. He looked back, placing his left hand on the handbrake.

Oh wow.

“Just tell me the directions.” Sunghoon says, oblivious to the way you gawk at the way he drives. You nod, clutching your hands together and keeping your eyes forward. On the road, on the fucking road, goddamit!

“While I’m um—” The silence was killing you. “I’m here, I’ll discuss your schedule for tomorrow.” You opened your phone, having a copy of everything in every device always had its perks.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Sunghoon begins, from your peripheral vision, you see his mouth twitch upward as he attempted to stiffle in a laugh. “What?”

“When does your working spirit turn off?”

“What do you mean?”

He spares a glance, “I mean, you’re always working. And doing— that.” He points towards your phone. With a shrug, you correct one of the typos from the schedule. “Are you not like that, sir?”

“Why would I be?”

It came off a little surprising on your part, “You look like you’d be the all work no play type of person, you know.”

“That’s rather offensive.”

Realizing what you’d just said, you quickly refute and panic. “I’m sorry, it’s not like that! It’s just—”

“No, I get what you mean.” Sunghoon cuts off with a laugh, grazing the side of his temple with his finger as his elbow came to rest on the elevation of the door. “That’s what most people assume.”

“That you’re a workaholic?”

“No, that I’m full of seriousness and that I never have fun.”

You mumble beneath your breath, “anyone would see that, just look at your face.”

“Really? What does my face look like?” At this point, Sunghoon already released a chuckle. “You always look so serious.” You blatantly say.

Anyone but him would notice that, of course. When Park Sunghoon walked, it was always so poised and controlled, aside from his actions looking so robotic on your end, his face always contorted to that of a frown or a monotonous face whenever and wherever. It was like his program consisted of two emotions only.

“And your face is always like this—” You turn to him, copying one of his signature faces from your perspective. “Or this.” came another pose.

Sunghoon smirks, twitching his head to the side. “So they say.”

“So you are aware.” you sigh, “What do you think about it?”

“About what?”

“When people talk about that.”

“Me? Well, I could say I’m flattered."

You laugh, unknowing he was capable of making such a joke. Unless, it was actually not a joke and he was geniune about it. “What about the negative side of it?”

Sunghoon ponders, keeping his mouth shut for a minute. He lazily taps the wheel with his fingers before he spoke, “I don’t necessarily mind,”

“Besides, it’s not like I’m here to be pleasing people.”

You nod, gauging in his words and his feelings. So that’s why. His world always seemed so enclosed from a vision, so isolated despite being showered with public affection by those who admired him online. He isn’t here to frolic around and make people like him. He’s just him, there’s nothing more, nothing less to it.

“You go to the left after this.” His car turns left, eventually, you reach the door of your house and you tell him to stop.

“Thank you for the ride, sir.” You tell him once his car settled down in front of your home. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you turn to Sunghoon who had an unreadable expression on his face.

“I’m going now.” But you don’t move. Sunghoon too, remains still.

Then, you open the car door and bid farewell.

But before you had a chance to close it, he spoke, “Goodnight.”

Something’s definitely shifted.

The air, the atmosphere, the place, the person, whatever it may possibly be— something’s definitely changed. The number one rule when it came to businesses like these is to allow things to remain unspoken, to let things linger in the tense air.

It wasn’t a crime to be observing such a change It was however, forbidden to mention it.

You don’t mention it but you take note of it.

The way Sunghoon doesn’t even ask for a redo of his coffee now, drinking it as it is despite the temperature being different. The way he follows his schedule more diligently with less changes. The way he— instead of leaving his paperworks with you, does it himself.

The way he’s become a little bit more gentler with words and in actions.

The way it affects you in such a way that it has you confused, terrified, and loving it at the same time.

You tell yourself it’s just a shift in his attitude.

You tell yourself that he’s just being nice.

You tell yourself that it is nothing.

Because it’s definitely nothing, right?

“I’m done.”

It was Sunghoon, opening the door from his office and entering yours. It was past 8PM, you worked a little later given the fact that there are more tasks than usual.

Or you could just be looking for an excuse.

“I’m having a bit of a hard time with this.” You say, despite not seeing Sunghoon as your desktop blocked your vision. The mouse has you frustrated, refusing to cooperate and going all over the place on your screen.

Sunghoon was already behind you, presence inching even closer.

Until his chest made slight contact with your head, his left hand balancing himself on your table, and his right one making contact with something.

The said something being your hand.

Or the mouse.

Or the mouse that had your hand placed on top of it.

He has you trapped, seemingly unfazed and unbothered as he guides your hand— or the mouse very gently. “Hmm?” He quips, “It’s working just fine, you need to be gentle with your mouse.”

And you let him. You let him drag the picture you were doing just seconds prior, you let him cage you in his arms despite him not being aware of it, you let his chest warm the back of your head ever so slightly. And once again, the smell of his clean perfume engulfed your nose and suffocated you in a way nothing else had.

Fuck.

“Thank you.” You mumble, straightening your posture in order to look large, to feel large. Sunghoon pulls away from the contact, crossing his arms. “Don’t be so harsh with your mouse.” He teases.

You huff, clicking or typing away to calm your beating heart. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“It was lagging earlier, I swear.” You try and reason out, but Sunghoon only chuckles at your response. “… Right.”

“Are you not going to go home, sir?” You shift the topic, still not facing him as you busied away. “No, not yet.”

Then you hear something shifts, like a chair being moved.

“I’m waiting for you.”

Come Monday, and every shocking news washed down again.

After spending lunch with Sunoo and some of your old officemates, you went back to your office to resume your work. What greeted you isn’t that of paperworks, but with Sunghoon’s note saying— ‘come report to my office after lunch.’

And so here you are, in front of your boss, absolutely appalled at his sudden announcement.

“I know it’s sudden but—” Sunghoon pinches the bridge of his nose. It seemed even he too, was surprised. “Father said the notice came upon late and this matter cannot be missed upon by the company.”

The said matter being an official business gathering of different companies around the world for some nepotism, trades, or connections nonsense.

The schedule is tomorrow— in France.

“I don’t know if—”

“The company will shoulder the expenses if that’s what you’re worried about.” Sunghoon quickly cuts off.

“No, I mean, a passport. I don’t have—”

”The matter can be arranged quickly.”

“But what about—”

“If this is about the stay, the business, the preparations, father has already told me it’s been dealt with.”

What about his consent?

“Are you okay with me coming?” It shouldn’t be something you are to be asking, given you are his secretary and you’re practically attached to his hip most days of the week. Still, Sunghoon was a man who kept his walls up high. At this, he simply raises a brow, “Why wouldn’t I be? You’re my secretary.”

Some odd feeling tickled your stomach, “Of course. I’ll just— I’ll prepare for what’s to come ahead tomorrow. Is there something I should be noted of?”

Sunghoon shook his head, “Not that I know of, we’ll be dealing with such stuff tomorrow.”

You nod, briefly bidding goodbye once the conversation was over and leaving his room. God forbid something normal happens once in a while in your life.

You dramatically slid down the door, hoping he wouldn’t open it so suddenly.

“What a way to go overseas…”

You don’t know what’s worse, the overbearing press breathing down your neck and following Sunghoon everywhere he goes, or the fact that you discovered for the first time you had extreme flying fears. (Not that you went on an airplane before to test it out.)

Cameras and mics kept their distance, but still, they were there and ready to tackle Sunghoon with questions. Yet, the man remained calm and composed, walking in his normal pace as you followed behind him.

It was the first time you saw him in a not so formal attire, opting to wear a v-neck sweater and dress pants paired with some loafers. People would assume he’s a model and not some extremely snobby boss who orders his secretary around.

You also dressed yourself in something casual. But, attention to outfits were not really much of your interest given that your stomach was churning and your heart felt like it was about to jump out of your chest. Literally.

You tried to keep yourself composed. Keyword— tried. It seems you were doing a pretty good job at it, given that Sunghoon still had the nerve to order you to get him some coffee.

“Same temperature, sir? And black coffee?” You stuffed down the puke, you weren’t even in the plane yet!

Sughoon shrugs as he busied on his surroundings, hoping no journalists come near him. “Black coffee, any temperature is fine.”

You nodded and scurried off in search for his coffee, and a bathroom, too.

Minutes later, in search of Sunghoon, you find him in a corner of the airport, sitting idly and tapping away at his computer. He was already working and you hadn’t even left the country yet. After getting his coffee (and ultimately puking away to your heart’s content) you neared him and handed the coffee.

“What took you so long?” He says, the disappearance having been longer than expected. You quickly cover it up, “Oh, the line was long.” Lies.

If Sunghoon notices, he doesn’t seem to pry into it any further as an announcement for the next flight was made. Quickly, the two of you headed towards your board with luggages and bags in hand. Sunghoon had a small luggage, perhaps opting to buy the things he needed there— some decisions stupidly rich people do.

Puking it away doesn’t necessarily mean you’d have the pass of not feeling the terrible sensation again. So, once you were at the seat of your ridiculuously expensive private class seat, you stayed silent, your saliva tasting saltier than usual and your head feeling slightly lighter.

At least you’ll puke in a rather private place.

The plane was cold. While you tried your best to just be sane for a few minutes. After getting to your assigned seats, your leg jitters became inevitable. This, Park Sunghoon noticed.

“Are you nervous or something?” He asks, a geniune question. You quickly deny, “No. Why would I be?” Lies.

He nods hesitantly, but you weren’t stopping! Eventually, the plane announced its departure, the flight attendant announcing some rules and regulations. With sweaty palms and a salivating mouth, you clenched yourself together and prepared for the worst.

“Here.” Sunghoon hands you something, you look over. It was a piece of menthol candy. “Eat it, if you feel sick or something.” You thanked him, taking the piece of candy and popping it into your mouth.

He tells you to close your eyes, and you do.

He tells you to open your palms, and you do.

And then, his fingers intertwined with yours.

And then, his thumb rumbs the back of your hands ever so gently.

And then you quickly shot your eyes open, almost puking out the candy he gave. “W-what— Sir—”

“My mother used to do this to me as a child when I got plane sick.” He intervenes too quickly, “Don’t get me wrong. It looked like you were about to puke on me or something.”

But he doesn’t look at you, simply looking out the window as his right hand nestled his head.

What was he thinking?

You nod, reminiscing of that moment at the office when his hands guided you.

You tell yourself its nothing, because it’s definitely nothing.

He’s your boss, and you’re his employee.

But why does his hand feel so soft? Why are his fingertips so gentle and meek?

It’s definitely nothing.

By some odd miracle the gods have graced you with, the sickness of yours has gone astray.

Perhaps it was because of the fact that you already remain aware and predicted of how an airplane actually pilots, or perhaps it was because of the fact that his hands are like— there. For a solid hour, his hand remained still on top of yours. Nervous, yes. But he was certain.

Only then does Park Sunghoon lift his hand up when the flight attendant offers some of the meals, opting to point something at the menu and putting his hand back in its respective place— his lap. You’d wish it was your hand, though.

The meal eventually arrives after the two of you order, and with but the smallest appetite and the feeling of sickness, you politely refused.

“You didn’t have breakfast.” He says, pushing the plate just a little farther on your end. You shook your head, “I was feeling a little sick.”

“You still are?” He asks, you nod. “I might end up puking the food if I force it down.” Park Sunghoon nods, taking a bit of his food. “Alright, suit—”

Grumble.

“Ah…”

“I told you to eat.” He says, not even halfway through chewing yet as his took your utensils and pried it into your hands. “You’ll definitely throw up if you don’t eat something.”

“Wow, father like much?” You quip, eventually giving in and taking the smallest bite of the food. Sunghoon scoffs, ”I don’t want you throwing up all over me.”

But hidden beneath his voice, was concern and that of amusement.

After hours of shifting, eating, sleeping, and keeping yourself company, arrival finally dawned early in the morning sun.

It was 9AM in the morning, leaving the plane had felt like a glory, and going to the airport of a different country felt much too surreal.

You are in France now.

The city of love.

With your boss.

Which, shouldn’t be a big deal, it really shouldn’t.

You were here for business, he was here to boost the status of the company.

But business can be interchangeable with many things.

“The hotel we’ll be staying at is the same venue for the gathering.”

The said hotel was at The Saint James Paris, located somewhere around Paris.

At this point, the two of you are already at the car of one of his recognized drivers around France. You sat at the back seat, he sat at the front. It felt a little bit weird to be greeted with such announcements from him, given the fact that it was technically your job when it comes to venus and such.

Still, you nod, grateful for the preparation. “What time does the event start?”

“8PM. We’ll have plenty of time to get some business done.”

You take upon his suggestions, “Perfect, there are some matters over at the company that—”

“Or, I have a better idea.” You see Sunghoon peek over at his rearview mirror, the smallest glint of of mischief tainting his eyes. “We’re going around town.”

“What? But—”

“Hmm?”

Sunghoon looks back, his gaze challenging you— daring you to say something more. But you keep your mouth shut, afraid of the consequences he’ll reply with.

“Nothing.”

“Okay, a room would more or less cost me my salary in ten year’s time.”

It came off as a joke, but you were deadly serious. This— The Saint James Paris hotel thing was no joke. It wasn’t anything, it was quite literally, and ultimately everything you’ve ever dreamed of. It was like something out of movie set— like the Palace of Versailles and that Marie Antoinette could appear any minute.

It was the epitome of grandeur and elegance, nestling away from the bustling streets of Paris, but being located in the same city regardless. It screamed French nobility, the tapestry and furnitures of the just lobby itself screaming with gold and ornaments like no other.

It looked timeless and that of aristocratic luxury. Frankly speaking, it was beautiful, and quite literally, beyond imagination.

Sunghoon laughs as you obnoxiously gaped at the opulent fabrics that wrapped around your gentle and soft bed. Over to your right, was a private terrace that overlooked the garden down below.

“This is so breathtaking…” You mumble more so to yourself, Sunghoon leans against your door as his arms were crossed. He found it amusing you find such a place to be so magical, when for him, it was like any other.

The little sparkles in your eyes made soft crinkles appear in his eyes, and a little something jitter in his stomach.

“I don’t know how I’ll repay you for this—”

“I told you, it’s the company’s.” Sunghoon intervenes. “But it’s too—”

“It’s nice, yeah?”

He enters your room, fingers tracing the gold, silky curtains that entailed the head of your bed. Sunghoon’s room was right beside yours, with the same features adorning the very place. “It’s too fancy.” You say truthfully, feeling a bit cautious now.

He shrugs, “It’s nothing compared to what you’ll see later.”

You nod eventually, and after a few more discussions as to what the gathering will entail later, Sunghoon eventually leaves the room and asks to meet you in a few minutes.

And due to exhaustion and surprise, you plopped down on the bed with a heavy sigh.

“I seriously can’t believe this…”

Experiencing such luxury had never been part of your bucket list. You used to ask for a proper meal before, now, it felt like you were getting a buffet. Might as well make the most of it.

Paris was a bit colder than you’d expect it to be.

The afternoon breeze hit you in a swift motion, light as a feather, smooth as silk. You changed your attire, opting to wear layers that matched the weather without it being too suffocating. Eventually, someone knocks at your door and you went to open it.

It was Sunghoon, greeting you with a curt nod and a raise of his brow. He too, had the same thought and outfit in a mind. Dressed in all black, and warm layers. Regardless of what he did or wore— he always looked attractive and neat it drove you insane.

“Ready to go?” He asks, “Are you sure we don’t have any paperworks left to catch up on this—”

“Not right now, no.”

You laugh, “It looks like I’m not budging, sir.”

Sunghoon pauses momentarily, biting the bottom of his lip. Then he says, “Sunghoon. It’s Sunghoon.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Sir?”

Sunghoon coughs, eyes drifting away, “You can refrain from calling me sir outside of work.”

“Oh—” You nod, surprised, “Okay, um—”

“Sunghoon. Yeah. Sunghoon, let’s go?”

His name rolling off your tongue felt so natural and unique.

God, you could get used to it.

“Roses just seem a little too typical, but it’s fitting and romantic.”

You’ve always been a little bit of a flower enthusiast. Not necessarily obsessed or knowledgeable with all of them per se, but flowers in general attracted your eyes in such a way.

Walking along the streets of Paris after being dropped off, you realize that the abundance in flowers was definitely noticeable. By some luck, there were small booths and stands selling boquets, or single flowers such as lillies, peonies, daffodils, and anything alike.

It was like a small little world of colorful rainbows that had you in total awe.

And Paris being the city of love, well— it really made things all the more suiting.

“Oh, but look—” You point towards a rose, it’s colorful, red hues in full display. But aside from its red color, it was also painted with a bit of white. It was a two-toned rose, a rather odd one. “This one’s pretty.” You mumble, gently touching its petals.

Sunghoon stood behind you, hands in his pockets. “That looks rare.” He comments.

You nod, “Probably not, but it’s the first time I’m seeing something like this.” From the corner of your eyes, you see the shop owner near your figure.

It was an old woman, with a cute flower apron hanging from her waist. Her smile reached her eyes as she speaks something in French you couldn’t quite fathom,

“Oh! Quel beau jeune couple! Vous êtes ici pour acheter des fleurs?”

“Oh! Um—” You should have taken some French lessons on the way here. But Sunghoon quickly cuts in,

“Oui, lui recommanderiez-vous quelque chose qu'elle aimerait?”

You gesture to Sunghoon with your eyes— what are you talking about?

He looks at you and asks, “What’s your favorite flower?”

You ponder over it for a moment, scanning each and every flower that lined up. Eventually, you spoke, “Lilies. I like Lilies.”

Sunghoon nods, turning her attention towards the old woman.

“Puis-je avoir un bouquet de lys, s'il vous plaît, madame?”

Immediately, you got a bit of the hint. “Hey! No, we don’t have to buy flowers, it’s okay—”

The old woman smiles, “Un bouquet de lys pour la belle femme c'est!” She then disappears off to the inside of her booth, and you turn to Sunghoon with a small grin. “You speak French?”

He shrugs, “Something you pick up in years of business.” You nod, amazed at the particular talent and capabilities of him, it was a side you never knew until now. And frankly speaking, Sunghoon speaking French was something you never you knew you needed. It came off so naturally and so smooth.

“What did you guys talk about?”

“Oh, she just asked me what flower you’d like.” He says, but with the way his tone lulled off, it felt like there was something more he wasn’t telling. Still, you only nodded.

“Thank you, I’ll pay for it.”

The old woman eventually comes back, a small boquet of lilies in her arma. It was adorned with small flowers and leaves, wrapped in white and gold, contrasting its pink hues. The old woman hands the boquet to Sunghoon, giving the two of you a warm smile.

“Beau jeune couple! Des lys pour une relation prospère.” Sunghoon fished his wallet from his pocket, paying the old woman for the boquet before you even had the chance to speak.

“Merci.”

“That’s like the the only part I understand.” You chuckle, thanking the old woman with a bow. Sunghoon then hands you the flower, an unreadable expression on his face. It was then that you noticed the pink flush on his cheeks, perhaps from the reflection of the lilies or the cold, or he was blushing. It made him look cute.

Daintly, you took the boquet from his hands, “I’ll pay you—”

“It’s on me.” He quickly says. You simply stare at the fresh boquet within your fingertips, etching the memory into your mind. Then, you neared the flowers and took a waft of its scent. “It’s really lovely.“

You fight back the urge to throw the stupid grin on your face, but everything just felt so wonderful that you had to smile ever so widely. Sunghoon too, grinned at the expression your face. He liked you seeing like this, away from the stoic and strict face you always had at work (thought he was not one to talk).

Like whispers of grace, your lips coming into contact with the blooming petals. Beauty remained subtle in his eyes, but with you, it felt like every feature stood out in every way possible. It almost escaped him, the way he keeps his eyes glued to your face that was so appreciative of something so simple and small. And even if it does come of notice, he doesn’t acknowledge it or say it out loud.

Sunghoon felt like he was testing the waters, and it felt just right.

The two of you continued your walk around the city, a boquet in hand, and more sights to see in front of you. Eventually, upon walking and passing through the flower stalls, came next were the souvenirs.

Stalls of different pieces, ornaments, pieces, tapestries, figurines— each and every stall decorated with items that caught your attention and represented the city with simplicity. With Sunghoon straying a little bit behind, you neared one vintage stall, a particular item catching your interest.

It was a polaroid camera, the rare vintage kind that had its body wrapped in brown leather. It was displayed at a particular stand, so you neared it and ask the owner if it was still functioning. After confirmation, you asked for its price, and through Sunghoon’s translation, you came to know that the price was not worth bargaining or thinking over.

So you bought it after testing.

You took a particular picture of your boots first, anticipating the results of the camera. Once you’d gotten the printed film, you grinned like a child and wholeheartedly showed it so Sunghoon, “This is such a nice steal for a camera!” You argue, taking a picture of yourself afterwards despite it feeling a little bit awkward. The picture came off as a little bit funny, seeing as your eyes squinted and your angle was lower than it should be, giving that impression of a double chin.

Sunghoon chuckles at your picture, “I’ll take a picture of you.”

Sunghoon reaches for the camera, but the shop owner noticed this and offered to take a picture of the two of you instead. Reluctantly, Sunghoon hands him the camera and you settle yourself beside him. A friendly, casual photo, is what you had in mind. But when the owner shouts, “Tiens-la par l'épaule!”, you see beads of sweat droop down from Sunghoon’s forehead.

“What did she say?”

“She said to hold you by the shoulder.”

“Oh.” You nod very slowly, feeling the heat creep up your cheeks. “Go ahead.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, you nod more certainly this time, allowing his fingertips to snake upon your shoulders. He grips the blade of it with gentle care. Then, the owner shouts to smile. So you do, you smile with Sunghoon’s hands on your shoulder, you smile with your arms touching his.

And when the picture gets taken and the film gets produced in the black and white piece, a benign grin escapes from your lips. At this moment, it didn’t feel like Sunghoon was your boss. If you were to ask anyone about the person beside you at this picture, they’d undoubtedly say he was your boyfriend.

But he isn’t, he was your boss. And that’s what’s wrong about it.

You hum beneath your breath, appreciating the moment as it unfolds in front of you.

Sunghoon isn’t your boss right now. You’d think of it like that.

“It’s nice.” He compliments, eyes nodding towards the picture. Sunghoon, the man of very little compliments. “It’s so beautiful! I like the way your eyes kind of crinkle when you smile.” And you, the ever so generous compliment giver.

“You should do that more often.”

“Do what?”

“Smile. It looks pretty on you, suits you way better.”

Through the slight flushed cheeks of Park Sunghoon

Through the slight flushed cheeks of Park Sunghoon, he mumbles something. “Tch.”

Endless walking around the different stalls eventually led to the two of you becoming parched and exhausted. After a mutual agreement of going back to the hotel room after checking the time, the next unexpected destination of yours was surprisingly a small cafe as you waited for the car to drive you back to the hotel.

Sunghoon didn’t want to get coffee, had you not insisted. You wanted to pay him back for the kind gesture of the boquet. Thus, here you were, in front of the counter of a tiny but dainty coffee shop just across the lined up stalls, ensuring that the barista gets Sunghoon’s order correct.

“Yes, I’m sorry for such an odd request.” You pull off your best friendly smile, trying to coax the barista into brewing the coffee at a specific temperature. To your luck, she spoke English and was nice enough to take on your inquiry.

Sunghoon sat in one of the white chairs, after much insisting that he sat down and wait for his coffee. One of his legs were crossed over the other, his gaze was through the window outside. “What’re you thinking of?”

Sunghoon looks over your direction, pressing his lips into a thin line. “The corporate event later.”

“What about it?” He shrugs, “Father is expecting the best out of me from this. I have to do well and carry the company’s name in my back. Of course, he will no longer be here to guide me amongst these businessmen.” Sunghoon looks at the ground, “It’s odd, it makes me feel a bit terrified. Not that I acknowledge that.”

You nod slowly, feeling the burden of Sunghoon’s words creep upon you. At the rip age of fifteen, according to articles, Sunghoon had been on the path on following his father’s footsteps— to be the next successor to the Park Corporation. Now that he was 25, the pressure he felt upon his shoulders must be more than ever.

With but one of the biggest companies on his back, he represents it in front of thousands more. He carries the weight of Park Corporations and it must be heavy to bear. He hides it well.

“I want to do well, not only for him, but for the company as well. Does that make sense?”

You nod, thanking the barista once the hot coffees had reached your table. “Specific temperature, just how you like it.” Sunghoon grins at your attention to detail. You continue, “It does, it must weigh a ton.”

Sunghoon doesn’t respond to your answer.

“But you know… Sunghoon, you’ve always done well.” You sip your hot latte, its hot sensation seeping your throat, “In anything you do, it’s like, I’ve always thought of you as a robot or something.”

He almost chokes on his coffee. “Really? Why’s that?”

You laugh, “Not in a rude way. Just… You know, someone who has this specific program of being very much a workaholic.”

“You’re one to talk.” He smirks and you retaliate, “Hey! I’m a workaholic because society forced me to.” With a heavy sigh, you lean back on your comfortable chair. “If given the money and privilege, I’d probably be bathing in gold and refusing to work right about now.”

Then, you fumble with your coffee cup, feeling the matter go a bit more sensitive and harder to spit out on your end. This was a story you’ve told your friends plenty of times, the tale even coming off as a joke and a laugh of your pitying situation. But, in front of Sunghoon, you find yourself vulnerable and open. It was different, it was scary.

“That is, if given the choice. Contrary to you—” You point to him, “You’re given that choice.”

Sunghoon pretends to feign hurt, clenching his heart with a slight sigh. You chuckle, “And yet what? You choose to work and make your father, make the company proud. I think that’s like, a huge, unimaginable feat. I think… The fact that you’re here now and making a name for yourself in the realm of business where everyone is a predator its just— it’s really amazing.”

“Not really, anyone can do it.”

“Yeah, but, not everyone has the guts to step in. You could be bathing in gold right about now too.” Sunghoon geniunely laughs, the fangs of his teeth showing ever so slightly. From this angle, you glance at the way his black hair is slightly tousled, the way those fangs of his are taking a peek, and the way his nose looked sharper and more refined.

It was odd, how you found the sudden urge to kiss him.

“I guess that makes sense. It's good I didn't choose to be bathing in a gold then, yeah?”

You shook your head, “Why?”

“How would I have met you otherwise?”

You wanted to bang yourself against a wall.

Like, jump in front of a cliff or like do something stupid.

Usually, your work outfits would consts of heels, slacks, blouse, and a blazer. Note— slacks or pants.

Now, you find yourself wearing a black maxi dress, your bare shoulders exposed, the cleavage of your beeast slightly peeking out. What’s even worse is that it was fitted. Fucking fitted! It quiet literally hugged your curves and your butt.

“I look delicious though…”

You say to yourself, doing a bit of twirling around and flicking your hair in the most dramatic manner. But you still wanted to bang yourself against a wall. Sunoo was the criminal to such a situation, when you’d ask him if he knew someone who had formal dresses, he came prepared with his sister’s.

What you didn’t imagine though is that you’d look this— unimaginable in it. Now, the test to survive in such a dress begins.

“Are you ready?”

A familiar voice knocks at your door. With a final twirl and perhaps a bit of consciousness over your outfit, you open the door and—

Shit.

Of course it was Sunghoon. Who else could it possibly be? But it was Sunghoon. The person in front of you is Sunghoon, the delicate fabric of his suit tailored perfectly to his body. It was an attire you never saw him in before, usually he’d wear something black. This one, was a jet blue.

And the face, oh gosh his face. He never wears makeup but he looked absolutely glistening in this angle, or it was perhaps because of the fact that his hair was put into perfection, styled with gel in the most perfect manner ever.

God he looked handsome.

“Oh, wow.” You mumble short, quickly regaining your composure once you feel your jaw go slack. Sunghoon tilts his head, oblivious to the way you gawk, “Ready to go?” He asks.

“I am— yeah, I’ll just close the door.”

You don't know why you had to state that.

Sunghoon chuckles, "You look very pretty.”

“You don’t—” You turn around and face him, hoping he doesn’t catch hint of the slight blush on your cheeks. “Look too bad yourself.”

Sunghoon grins, “Let’s go, yeah?”

You nod. The walk to the to the hotel’s banquet hotel was filled with short conversations of aristocrats, owners, and businessmen alike. (Mostly on Sunghoon’s part.) He does most of the talking, and you are able to differentiate exactly why he was made for this world.

Concise, sharp, and straight to the point— that’s exactly how he answers. Capable of getting the receiving end to share more than what was necessary. The way he spoke was smooth as butter.

Eventually, the two of you reach the event’s place. It was a large room with decor similar to the lobby, it had plenty of cocktail tables displayed around. Tables of appetizers and wine were lined up as the room was already filled with those who belong in such a world.

It was rather lively. Easily, Sunghoon blends into the crowd with you tagging along. “Don’t stray too far, these people bite.” He warns,

“But if we’re lucky, we can make something out of this.”

“Oh? Is that Kim Corporations? We might have a shot at partnership.” You mumble beside him, Sunghoon smirks. “You already know how it works.”

“Of course," you give him a meek smile, but there was a hint of mischief behind your eyes. “I am your secretary, after all.”

The night bursted with sophistication, coupled with endless interactions with entrepreneurs and businessmen alike. The art of being in such an industry works wonders. It was not much of a question to those who have not yet stepped a foot into such a world— as to what makes something like this so crucial in each and every aspect of a company.

Building connections, establishing a name for your group— that was the main goal of such gatherings. But these people are not to be confused to be clean slated, offering kindness and partnerships in one swift go. If anything, they were quite the opposite, and rather brutal, too.

This world bites you not in the face, but in the fucking ass.

It was noticeable enough, with the way the discerning eyes of those who’ve proved they are all that, gauge at the actions who they consider either as an opponent or ally. Either way, Sunghoon was no opponent to anyone else, at least for now. And he knows this, keeping his boundaries in tact, knowing the realm of such a harsh reality. And ultimately, he prepares himself.

“If there’s something you might want to ask away…” The moment comes all too soon, a man dressed in a silky red suit approached you seconds prior, a glass of champagne in his hands. His hair was slick, eyes governing only what you could describe as interest. Deep, growing, interest.

“You can ask me. I’m open for questions, or better yet we can take it elsewhere?”

It seemed clear the business he had in mind was different. You somewhat sigh, maintaining your best to remain polite and opting to give the thick-browed man a tight-lipped smile. Sunghoon had gone for a couple of minutes to entertain other businessmen after much assurance that you can do fine on your own.

“I appreciate the concern, I think any queries I may have in mind may be taken here and absolutely not elsewhere.”

He doesn’t seem to get the hint.

“I’m Si-Woo. Soon to be heir of the Loom Corporations. I think you know very well what company I’m pertaining to, given that, you’ve earned your place here.”

Loom Corporations? Doesn’t ring a bell.

“Well, that’s besides the point miss. Because—” He takes an inch further, reaching out his arm, “Here to make quite a different impression on you.”

But before his grubby hands could even fathom reaching the surface of your skin, a sudden grasp on your waist pulls you back and against a chest of another. The perfume of his was enough of a recognition. “Si-Woo, long time no see?”

It was Sunghoon, the tone of his voice drooping down. “I didn’t know you were taking over your family’s business.”

The man pulls back, placing his hands back to himself as he eyes Sunghoon with a smile of his own. A smile that screamed— what the fuck did you do?

“Sunghoon. It’s been a while, yeah. My father handed it over to me. Is she with you?” He asks, seemingly not catching onto the hint. But Sunghoon was glad to slap it in his face, “She is, why do you ask?”

“I don’t know,” The man shrugs, “You told me you hated getting a secretary before, much less, a female one.” The way the word female spews out of his tongue made rage bubble inside your stomach. It was blatant insult, and he wasn’t being discrete about it, too.

“I don’t remember telling you that. I dislike secretaries in general.” Sunghoon subtly pulls you further in his embrace, “She’s an exception. I’d appreciate it if you can get your hands off my employees.”

“I see,” The man feigns amuse, “I’ll take note of that then. See you around, Sunghoon. Be careful."

The latter part sounded like a threat, a warning that gave Sunghoon an inkling idea of this. Of the words he spews out, the dangers his confidence resided in. Sunghoon feels no threat however, with the way he tilts his head to the side and raise his brow. With the way he smiles and says, “Gladly.”

The man eventually leaves with a frown on his face, the champagne leaving a bitter taste down his throat. Sunghoon deviates his warm hands from your waist. “Are you okay?” He asks.

“Yes, I had it under control.”

“I know.”

“Why did you step in?”

Sunghoon frowns, crossing his arms. He’s facing you now, “Was that a problem?”

“No, it’s just—”

“I was only doing my job as your boss.” Sunghoon intervenes, the tone of his voice shot straight through your chest. It had felt like he was raising his voice at you.

“Are you mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“It feels like you’re mad.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Mr. Sunghoon.”

“Ms. Y/N.”

“Sunghoon.”

“Is that any way to talk to your boss right now?”

“What?” You rub your temple, gazing around the banquet hall. Luckily, there was no one who had interest in snooping in. “I can’t believe this.”

“What?”

“Just tell me if you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad, I’m just worried.” Sunghoon says, grazing your arm and gently making you face him. “I know that guy, we used to go to the same highschool. And he’s—” Sunghoon puts his hand on his hips, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Dangerous. As much as possible I don’t want you going near him, I know how he works.”

“I know how men like him work.”

You open your mouth, then close it, then open it again like a fish. Now, it had made sense. “Oh. I see.” You nodded, “I’m sorry if that’s the case I didn’t know.”

Sunghoon shook his head, “It’s alright, just—” and by some unexpected air in the wind, he subtly rubbed the small of your back.

“Just be careful, okay?'

By some odd reason, Park Sunghoon couldn’t get his eyes to pierce away from you.

If the sole reason was because of your encounter with the man earlier, it didn’t really explain why his gaze looked… Like that.

From the corner of your eyes, you see the way his gaze lingered just a tad bit longer, or the way his eyes would droop down to yours, down to the curves of your lips. And as the night shifted and the event eventually wrapped up, you find yourself in a turmoil on the way back to your room, walking alongside him. Complete, utter silence.

And once you reach the room of your door, exhaustion hitting you faintly, Sunghoon stood in front. He didn’t speak on the way back, he kept his works at a minimum at the banquet. “Thank you, you should get some rest for tomorrow, sir.”

You referred to him with the formalities, if Sunghoon noticed, he doesn’t argue. “Mmh. You should go inside.” He says, but your feet don’t move. “I really should.”

You really should.

“Yeah.”

And Sunghoon should really turn around and go to his room.

But you both don’t.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

“Say, um—"

“Hey—”

Sunghoon beat you to it, “You go first.”

You really shouldn’t be making such an offer, but you do. “I have some wine that I brought, I see you hadn’t had a drink at the banquet earlier.”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He says, crossing his arms with a smug grin; he was surprised you even noticed. “We can toast if you want? For today’s event, I mean, it’s okay if—”

“I’d want that.” Sunghoon intervenes, taking up the offer with much enthusiasm. You nod, turning around to grapple your door with sweat and clammy hands, wishing, hoping, he doesn’t hear the nervous beating of your heart. It wasn’t your own home, but you felt conscious of it. Had you left any underwear lying around? Is your bed fixed? Did you make sure to organize your stuff?

Fortunately, your room was neat and tidy. Sunghoon enters, his presence looming behind your back. It was the tension you’d felt at the latter part of the gathering just minutes back— thick and strained. You only hoped it was just you who felt that way.

Your back was turned on him as you approached the refrigerator door, reaching for the wine you’d brought along the trip. One of his favorites, on work days Sunghoon requested wine early in the mornings rather than coffee. The moment you had a chance to open the door however, Sunghoon’s long arms and hands closed them for you. Both of his arms situated at either side of you, ultimately trapping you. “I thought we would—”

Something shifts.

And a subtle weight was placed upon your right shoulder. His hair tickled the nape of your neck ever so slighty as he mumbled, “I lied…”

Confused, you utter, “What do you mean?”

“I’ve had my share of alcohol back at the banquet, I don’t want anymore.”

Oh, so that’s why his breath smelled like slight cherries.

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could have—”

“Can you turn around, please?” Sunghoon whispers, “Wha—"

“Please?” He now begs.

So you do, moving like an animatronic that had no mind of its own, coming face to face with Sunghoon just inches away from your face. His arms still trapped you in the door of the fridge, refusing to let go. His eyes were that of softness mixed with endless nights of no sleep.

His subtle laboured breathing and the slight flush of his cheeks was enough of a hint.

He looks at you– thoroughly looks at you with the same eyes you’ve seen him draw before.

… Fondness.

“Are you okay?” You quietly ask him, hands flaunting around in an attempt to do something. Sunghoon grins, tilting his head to the side like a lost puppy at your words. “Mmh, you’re so…” His fingers took a strand of hair, twirling it around.

“Pretty.” Sunghoon doesn’t hesitate to answer. He knew he drank something, but he wasn’t drunk, neither was he tipsy. “Looking so dolled up there, y’know, I almost lost my shit.”

You were left speechless, strangled by his unexpected confession. “Almost.” He laughs, shaking his head more so as if he was talking to himself. “You’re so not making this easy for me, baby, just…” Then his fingertips trailed from your hair, to your shoulder, to the base of your chin, grasping it gently and making you look at him and not anywhere else.

He’s not making this any easy on you, either.

“Can I kiss you?”

You almost choked.

What?!?!

“Sunghoon, are you drunk—”

“No.”

“Then why—”

“I just want you, is that bad?”

No it’s not. It’s terrible. Absolutely terrible, devastating, catastrophic. How were you supposed to remind him that he’s your boss and people in such position don’t usually say things like that? Do things like trap you, hold your waist, your hair— and most of all, how were you supposed to say to him that enjoyed it, too? That you quite literally soften and cave in to his touch, making you feel like putty?

How were you supposed to tell him that every thing he’s been doing to you, albeit it being the most smallest thing ever, has you blushing and losing your mind? You’d want him just as much as he’d want you. As simple as one, two, three. But you’re just his secretary, and he’s a man of high value and respect. So no, it wouldn’t make sense, nor would it be right to do such a thing.

“But I’m your secretary, Sunghoon. It really wouldn’t be right if—”

“Do you want me too?”

“Wha— Yes, but—”

“Then it’s okay, right?”

Sunghoon insisted of his soberness, but right now his words felt drunkenly. He never spoke like this. Can you really indulge yourself in such an act?

“Sunghoon…”

The man sighs, caressing your cheek. In a split second, somehow— he regains his senses as his fingers twitch beneath. His eyes sparked, hand pulling back, “I’m sorry— fuck. Why did I ask that….”

The shame in his voice was evident, pain tainting each and every word. He creates a distance, rather, he tries to.

“No, it’s not like that, hey—”

“It’s okay it was a mistake on my part, I’m sorry, I—”

“Stop—”

Well fuck it.

You pulled his collar and smashed your lips against his. Hard, rough, passionate.

It wasn’t any kiss, it felt needing, deprived of something far greater. With no questions needed, Sunghoon kisses back with the same rhythm, pulling you— Closer. Closer. Closer.

Only then when the two of you run out breath pull out, heaving breathless gasps as your breath mingled with his. “So sweet…” Sunghoon whispers, gliding a thumb across your bottom lip. Fuck.

“Sunghoon are you sure of this, I—”

“I want you.” He says breathlessly.

All walls crumbled down. Suddenly, this very moment in the dim lights of your hotel, did you feel the need to disregard all sense of formality and professionalism you had for Sunghoon. It was driving you insane. With the way his fingers carved its presence on each and every detail of your body, the way his gaze felt needing of something, the way his lips felt so perfect and ripe against yours.

It didn’t matter now what the consequences would entail later.

Because what more could you possibly want more than this?

The soft morning dew cascaded through the soft, thin fabric of the curtains. A gentle reminder that the morning has come to greet you as the rays of the sun hit the corner of your eyes.

You winced visibly, blinking through the light that had come to disturb your peaceful sleep. The sheets were as soft as ever, plush, and encompassing against your body. Your naked body—

Fuck!

Quickly, you flung your eyes open, feeling the sensation of the cold air hitting the crevices of your breast. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

You shifted slightly, trying to make sense of the situation at hand, only to feel a strong sensation on your waist, pulling you closely to something warm and hard. You weren’t going to pretend it was nothing, because it was definitely Sunghoon.

The more likely solution? You were going to pretend you were asleep.

You know what went down last night. The intense hunger and ravishing desires from the two of you, the touching, the teasing, the banters, the actual thing.

“Mmh.” A mumble can be heard from behind, tickling the base of your neck. His grip on your waist tightens, spooning you in the most oddly comfortable position ever. Sunghoon was still asleep.

Quickly trying to get the senses to stand up, you unwrap his strong arms from your waist, but he wasn’t budging!

Something shuffles, and then all of a sudden, you feel his lips come into contact with your ears, “Good morning…”

His morning voice slips through you as Sunghoon’s fingertips caressed the area just above your belly button. Unlike you, he was calm and still. “G-good morning…” You mumble, still unfamiliar with his touch on you.

This is really happening, Sunghoon clasping you in his arms and you, bare and naked.

With a soft sigh, Sunghoon’s strong arms gripped your waist and gently turned you around to face him. The sight that greeted you was heavenly with his slow blinking eyes and the light grin that adorned his features. Given that the sunlight had its trajectory over to your bedroom space, the sunlight hit his face in such a manner that it looked like he was glowing.

God, you felt your knees tremble.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks, letting his hands run from your waist to your hair, gently removing the strands of hair. You nod, “I did, what about you?”

Sunghoon nods, ”I did too.”

Acting on impulse, you let your fingetips touch his cheeks, carving little moons on them, down to the mole that settled beneath his eyes. You settled in the tranquil, just the two of you, feeling the need to not say anything at all. Sunghoon hums as you explore the depths of his face, and you smile as you remember each feature of his.

It felt too good to be true.

“What time do we have to go back to Korea?” You ask all of a sudden, retracting your hands away from his face. Sunghoon felt a sense of coldness from the lost of touch as he answers, “Around lunch. We have much matters to attend to back there.”

You nod, feeling glad to be back in your own safe space. As much as Paris had felt like the biggest dreams for you, you were starting to feel a little homesick.

Something then rings from the bedstand, garnering your attention away from each other. It was Sunghoon’s phone and he answers it after you urged him to do so.

“Hello?”

“Hello? Sunghoon?”

“What is this for? Who are you?”

“Ah! I’m so glad I got through, your father gave me your number. He said you’ll be back from France in a bit, then we can discuss over some things after you’re here.”

“Who is this?”

“Don’t you remember me? I’m Kim Sohee! Gosh, I missed you! We have so much to catch up on.”

You know for a fact that some things are only temporary.

At age ten, you lost your favorite toy over to the neighbor’s son. At age fifteen, your bestfriend of years had left you to go study overseas. At age nineteen, you chose a course unrelated to what you had now, only to shift because you felt uninspired.

At age twenty-three, you felt like you were on a very tightrope.

Like there was a piece of line connecting your desire and the fear you felt from those desires. It was a thin rope, barely hanging on. Yet, you keep jumping around it regardless, always loving a bit of the challenge it gave you. But that tightrope was already there for years on end, and frankly speaking, it was about to break any moment now.

“We have to go back to Korea straight away, sir. Some things can’t be kept waiting.”

There was bitterness in your voice, a hint of pain and sadness lingering too. You refused to let your voice crack, refused to let Sunghoon see the expression in your face as you stuffed some of your clothes into your luggage.

“We don’t have to, my father said—”

“What your father said is right. It’ll be perfect for the company’s name.”

Finally, you had the guts to look at him. Just barely.

“Y/N,” Sunghoon says, frustrated. He pinches the bridge of his nose, “Why’re you acting like this?”

But deep down, Sunghoon knows why.

“Like what, sir? I’m completely fine. Please, get your things packed, it’s already past lunch and the driver is waiting for us outside.”

“Y/N, I—”

“Please.” You now beg, looking at him as a whole now. You felt the tears trickle down your face. “Just go.”

“Listen to me, Y/N. I didn’t want this to happen, okay! I tried talking to father about it, and—”

“So you knew for weeks that you were getting married?” You scoff, “and you refuse to tell me and chose to do this instead?”

Sunghoon’s eyes shifts, he swallows the dryness in his throat. “I didn’t know father would take it seriously. Listen, I refused the absurd idea when he told me before and he seemed okay with it.”

You shook your head, “He wasn’t okay with it. You thought he was, but you know how this industry works, Sunghoon.”

The weight of your words felt heavy on Sunghoon’s shoulder, he couldn’t utter a single word, only watching as you haphazardly fix your things, your luggage, your clothes— everything. Like you were showing him that traces of you were never meant to be here in the first place.

And for the worst part? Sunghoon knows you’re right. He knows something like this— whatever you had going on, would never slip by in such a world where power was everything and you had none of that. At least, neither in money nor in status.

You were just his secretary.

And he was someone so high up that it hurts.

Sunghoon knows he couldn’t do anything about it either, because the marriage was in two days time. Unbeknownst to him, his father has already organized and planned out everything behind his back.

Unbeknownst to him, he was getting married for the sake of family business all against his own will.

And you knew, too that Sunghoon is just your boss, nothing more, nothing less. Someone deserving of respect and none of this. Your awful, tainted desire of wanting him. The hesitant gazes and touches, none of the office romance you’d always read and watched in movies.

Sunghoon just stood there, unresponsive. He stood with a frustrated gaze and a heavy heart as he watched you pack. “Just leave, sir. Please.” You beg for the last time.

And Sunghoon listens.

He leaves.

The ride on the way back to Korea felt exhausting to say the least.

It was silent yes, with the way neither of you spoke a word and let the silence hung in the air. But it was an uncomfortable silence, the kind that was dreadful and undesirable.

Sunghoon did not bother to speak at all, neither did he try and resolve the problem. And although it stung, it had to be for the best.

After all, are there any more solutions left?

It had been some time in the afternoon when you arrived back to Korea, opting to go to the company first to attend to some business at hand regarding Sunghoon. The said business being his marriage preparations. Ironically enough, you were in charge for the preparations and the designing of the venue itself.

His father was there, his sister, his mother, the woman she was to marry— Kim Sohee, and her relatives involved in the matter.

It was a proposal of marriage, all for the game of business and wealth. But Sunghoon knows Sohee, and she knows him too. They’ve been close enough since they were little, after all.

Sohee’s eyes, though, are different towards him.

The woman felt and looked like one of stature, keeping her head up high and her words crisp and straightforward. She kept her guard and her image well put, yet she had that strange look towards Sunghoon whenever he gazed over in her direction, must be love or something like that.

As for Sunghoon? You couldn’t bother— couldn’t bear to see what his expression would hold.

The meeting ends on a peaceful note, with Sunghoon going along with what was planned for him and you, trying to keep everything professional all in the name of your job. But every minute you hear the word marriage, it had felt like torture on your end.

“The honeymoon must be held in Italy! It’s surely such a beautiful place.” The mother of Sohee spoke, she was a bit of a nagger, too enthusiastic for this entire ordeal. Park Sungwoo, Sunghoon’s father, chimed in, “No, no. I was thinking of France. You know? The city of love, it is very worthwhile to spend their moments there as a newly-wed couple.”

You physically feel your eyes roll. How fucking ironic.

“Secretary Y/N? I entrust the matters of the preparation to you.” Sungwoo says, nodding with enthusiasm. He knows of your capabilities as Sunghoon’s secretary, but he doesn’t know what you’ve done with Sunghoon. He’d be sad if he ever hears about it, honestly. You nod, attempting to feign innocence and professionalism. “Yes, leave it up to me, sir.”

You feel a pair of eyes slice you in half but you ignore it regardless. It didn’t matter now, at least, not anymore.

The two days of rushing the preparations back and forth proved to be much troublesome than expected.

Weddings take months, if not, years to prepare. Doing it in a day was torture, absolute fucking hell. From venue, to designs, food and other paraphernalias, sleeping had barely been an option anymore.

Spending late nights over at the office had once again, become inevitable. During office hours, you raked through paperworks. The hours following it, consisted solely of wedding planning.

Each task felt heavy and long when it came to the latter part. Time passes by so swiftly whenever you worked on paperworks. But for this? It’s like time wasn’t moving at all. Like right now, a particular moment late at night. Twelve hours before the ceremony, you were busy working your ass off for the guest list. Much aid had already been handed out to you from your previous department.

You were a perfectionist at heart. Refusing to let your feelings get the best of you, and ensuring that each and every aspect of the ceremony was spot on.

“Yes, yes. 9AM tomorrow if it’s possible, I’ll send the venue over.”

The clicking of your keyboard reverberated throughout the room, you squeezed your phone in between your ear and shoulder.

Part of you hoped Sunghoon would swing by and perhaps stay a bit longer like he’d used to.

But he didn’t do so yesterday, so it was highly unlikely he’d do it right now.

Yet you hoped, you wished for him to stay a little longer despite all the pushing away.

“Thank you, I’ll give the complete details tomorrow.” You end the call on your end, feeling a bit of the weight sliver away from your shoulder. It was 1AM now, office hours had long been gone and it was just you inside the office and the dim lights from your table.

You stretched your arms over your head, yawning as you did so.

A soft thud can be heard and suddenly, a small bottle of coffee and a sandwich was placed in front of you; the kind of coffee that’ll have you awake for hours and the kind of sandwich that’ll have you full for a while. Surprised, you looked behind your back only to see him. Arms crossed, leaning in one of the spare tables.

Park Sunghoon.

“Sir, what’re you doing here?”

He nods towards the coffee and sandwich, “Go eat. You haven’t eaten.”

“I’m fine.” You nudge the food away.

“Still so subborn? I said just eat.” Quickly taking it upon himself, Sunghoon unwraps the sandwich and he prods it towards your lips. Your eyes scan over his features, he was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. He probably came home first, then came back here to give you this.

You don’t open your mouth, mainting politeness and pushing his hands away. Still so soft and gentle. “I’m not hungry, sir. I’m fine.”

But as if he was some sort of fortune teller, he holds your chin and opens your mouth to push the sandwich in. The moment you took a bite, your stomach grumbled and Sunghoon visibly smirked. Embarrassed, you chew on the sandwich with a slight frown, taking the food from his hand.

“See? I told you.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s past office hours, what are you still doing here?”

“Why? Can’t I be here at my own company?” He says, clearly amused.

“No, it’s just that, you know, you should be sleeping and preparding for the big day and all that.” You had to give yourself a pat on the back for letting that slip out so smoothly.

Sunghoon doesn’t respond for a couple of seconds, contemplating whether or not to tell you. That he tried to go to bed early, convincing himself that everything was for the best. That all it ever led to was him waking up in the middle of the night, only to imagine you laying in his sheets, body wrapped with his.

That all he ever thought of the duration of his so called wedding preparations was you and you alone.

That he told his father about this whole thing and it had led them to fight and end up in an intense disagreement, only for his father to be ever so stubborn but understanding at the same time.

That his father understood where he was coming from but still decided to push the marriage regardless because it’ll solely benefit the company.

That at the same time, his father and Sunghoon had come on a mutual agreement on marrying Kim Sohee in name only and parting ways after because the woman too, had someone for her own.

That in the end, all you ever thought of were the negative outcomes, thinking it was beneficial for the two of you, not knowing there was a solution.

So Sunghoon doesn’t speak, choosing not to overwhelm you. Instead, he watches as you take small bites of the sandwich and small sips of the coffee.

“Is it good?” He asks, clearly not having to with the way you inhaled the food. You nod, “Thanks, I hadn’t had lunch yet.”

“I know.” Sunghoon still looms over you, his fingertips coming contact with the side of your lips as he sweeped off a piece of the food you ate. You were given not the chance to respond as the moment came all too quick.

“You’ve been overworking.” He mumbles, crossing his arms once more as he observed the way you fumble with the things you needed to prepare. You nod, “I have to make sure your wedding is perfect. I can’t let it fail.”

“Why do you care so much?”

His sudden question caught you off guard, a heavy weight bears on the air as he awaits for a response. Barely looking at him and focusing on typing instead, you heave out a sigh.

Because not caring will make your growing feelings have the chance to prosper.

Because not caring will truly reveal your desires of wanting him, needing him.

And you don’t want that.

“What do you mean? I’m your secretary, sir. It’s only my job to care.”

“Really?”

But Sunghoon knows deep down that wasn’t the case. “Y/N.” You don’t respond. Sunghoon repeats his words with more force, “Y/N, can you look at me?”

You look at him, hoping the vulnerability in your eyes don’t show. “Do you think that time at Paris, the things we did were all a mistake?”

You were quick to answer, “No. I would never think like that. Would you?”

The response that came next came was a surprise.

“I didn’t lie when I said I want you. And I still do.”

“You just want the idea of me sir. When I can’t give anything anymore, things will be useless in the end.”

“That isn’t true.”

“Then tell me what is.”

“I can’t.”

“Why? So it’s really true then?”

“I can’t tell you right now.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Cause—”

“Why, Sunghoon? Because if you’re telling me you can’t tell me because of your feelings, then what about mine? Have you ever thought about mine?”

“Cause it’s all I fucking think of Y/N— Your feelings, my feelings. Us. This. Shit.”

A heavy silence hung in the air once more.

You couldn’t speak. It didn’t help that Sunghoon was there, waiting for a reaction, waiting for something, anything. And when he realize you wouldn’t, he sighs and rakes his hair with his hand, “Do you fucking trust me?”

“It’s hard.”

“Will you try?“ Sunghoon offers a hand, hesitant and doubtful, you take it. “Please?”

And for once, he pulls you to his chest.

He kisses you.

“Please? Just trust me this once?”

It didn’t take long before the ceremony was over and everything was closing its doors.

It’s all a marriage of convenience, Sunghoon reassures you.

Months past, and even through the honeymoon trip set up by their families, Sunghoon reassures you. Through the places they go to, the sites they saw and admired, Sunghoon reassures you that everything he shared, he treasured most with you.

He returns from his trip, greeting you with a boquet of pink lillies in the office door. He’d brought it on the way to his office, countless gasps and stares came his way, assuming it was for Kim Sohee.

But it wasn’t.

It was for you and you only.

Kim Sohee respects this fact, there was no need to argue over such things given that she too, had something of her own. Assumptions were made on your part and you internally had to apologize for being so quick to judge. It was all a mutual agreement, that upon public name, the two were married. But in private, the two had romantic matters of their own.

On your end, it was better that way.

There was no prying nor discrimination with your relationship with Sunghoon, no snoopful ears to disrupt anything you had with him, no jealousy nor bashful comments towards your way.

It was a particular moment months after everything had begun between the two of you, behind closed doors, or particularly, inside Sunghoon’s office— you frequented the place more than usual. You have lunch there, you spend a little more time there during moments where you had nothing to do, you spent late nights working at his office rather than your usual table.

Sunghoon loved the company you gave him. Often times, stirring off work and observing everything you do instead, or getting a bit too nosy and sticking his nose in your tasks.

Like right now.

“Sunghoon, I promise this’ll be the last part. Can you let go for a bit?”

Sunghoon sat beside you, right hand behind your back as the other entertained itself by aimlessly roaming around your thigh. His head nuzzled itself on your shoulder, nose inhaling your scent. H

Contrary to others’ beliefs and assumption, Sunghoon was clingy and stuck like glue whenever no one else was looking over your way. He acted like he wasn’t your boss. He had this habit of touching you discretely, and you bet on hell that he must be some koala during his past life.

Because when he wasn’t touching you or grazing his hand over you, he was staring at you instead.

“I can’t, you’ve been working for hours on that thing. How long will will that end?”

He mumbles, peppering soft kisses down your neck and down to your shoulders.

“In a bit.”

“You said that an hour ago.”

“Really? Did I?”

“You did, can you stop working now?” Sunghoon’s voice sounded like a bit of a whine on your part. You liked him better this way, so attached to you like a little kid, so devoid of his snarky responses and mean comments. Different from the Sunghoon you’ve come to know him from.

Choosing to finally follow his constant whining, you closed your laptop and faced the man who had a slight pout etched upon his features. “Are you always this clingy?” You quip, allowing Sunghoon’s arms to wrap around your waist. You held his face in your hands.

“I’m not, don’t tell anyone.”

“What if I do?” You tease him. Sunghoon tickled the spot just below your chest. “You won’t.”

You laugh uncontrollably as Sunghoon tickled you in places he knew you were ticklish in. A soft grin escapes his features as your laughter continues to bubble from his constant tickling. “Sunghoon— stop!” You laugh.

He grins, making you think he had stopped by pulling his hands away momentarily, only to attach itself back to you.

The ruckus eventually dies down though, and Sunghoon retracted his hands back and settle them on the curves of your waist. The large grin that adorned his features was inevitable, it felt like he had stars in his eyes.

“You done teasing me now?” He says, you laugh. “I wasn’t teasing you! Only stating facts.”

“Oh, but you were.”

“Wasn’t.”

“Were.”

“Wasn’t.”

“Were.”

“Wasn’t—”

Soft, plump lips crashed itself upon yours. He shuts you up with a kiss, the impact causing you to stumble ever so slightly.

He really just knows the effect he has on you.

Sunghoon pulls back, connecting his forehead with yours.

“Can you say that again?”

You pout, defeated by his tactics of getting through your heart. He knows the right tactics, the right time and place to make your heart jump out of your chest.

“Whatever, have some little respect to ypur secretary.”

And you? Well, let’s just say you had the secretary weapon to use on him.

Sunghoon chuckles, caressing your supple cheeks with a large smile.

“You’re so cute, baby.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ END *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

EXTRAS!

“I think a touch of pink would go best with your skirt.”

“No, peach would definitely be better.”

“Baby, what’s the difference, exactly?”

Piles of fabric lay within your fingertips, a pastel color for each their own. Blue, green, pink— aha!

“See? Peach looks much lighter, while pink is just, well, pink.”

“Very detailed description.”

Sunghoon turns to the small little figure, staring at the two of you with clueless eyes. She tilts her head as her eyes feigned curiosity as to what the two of you were arguing about.

Cuteness agression much?

“Jimin, which one would you like best for your skirt? The peach or the pink one?” You hold two pieces of fabric in fronf of you, expectant that she’ll choose yours, because you refuse to lose to Park Sunghoon.

“Purple, I want purple, mommy.”

Oh.

Sunghoon laughs exasperatedly, clutching his stomach as he pointed at you, “See! I told you our choices wouldn’t matter!” He quips. You frown, “This isn’t funny.”

“So purple it is? Are you sure?” You talked to the child— your child in a high pitched voice while Sunghoon gets one of irritation. Jimin nods, “I don’t like pink, or kroral.”

You smile, thinking of exactly the same thing as your husband: so fucking cute!

Suddenly, soft wails and cries could be heard from your shared bedroom. It was your son, Park Junsoo, awake from his usual nap. You and Sunghoon looked at each other, before eventually, he’s the one that loses the staring battle and he goes to the bedroom to pick your son up.

He comes back with a wailing little baby in his arms, gently cooing until he calms down.

“This little guy’s such a crybaby…” Sunghoon mumbles, rocking the baby in his arms, side to side, back and forth. The little stars that adorned his eyes were evident as he looked at his son with much love and adoration.

Park Jimin, your daughter who is seven years old, had facial features similar to you, but her personality came from Sunghoon. Calm, collected, and composed. While Park Junsoo had gotten his face from his father, but from the way he whined and clinged, you could tell this child was going to become a bit of a nagger, much like you.

“I wonder where he got it from.” Sunghoon teases, looking over your direction.

“Oh shut up.” You roll your eyes at him.

This was your little family now.

A home filled with so much love and gentleness you wouldn’t have things any other way.

And truth be told, this was the thing you love most about Park Sunghoon. Always so patient, so kind and gentle— the epitome of the perfect everything.

Before, you always used to think he was some sort of spoiled brat who wanted everything to go his way.

But now, he is the father of your two children, sacrificing most of his time and effort despite coming home from work exhausted and tired. Just to see you smile, just to see your family smile.

Life is beautiful on your part, so, so, beautiful.

For years on end, you no longer survived on cup noodles or anything instant, constantly living in life of luxury as Sunghoon spoils your family to death after inheriting the family business.

Park Sunghoon knows the way to your heart, to everything about you, down from the tips of your toes to your whole entire soul.

“Finally got them to go to bed, god.”

It was past midnight now, Jimin had finally run out of energy to stop jumping around bend and close her eyes. While Junsoo had stopped his little fits of crying and dozed off. It was exhausting, taking care of two kids at the same time.

Most days, when Sunghoon was at work (you had to stop momentarily to take care of your younger), the routine was ten times harder. Constantly in a back and forth motion to tend to your childrens’ wants and needs— it was an endless battle in an entire day.

But when Sunghoon was with you during the weekends, taking care of your children became much more bearable and somewhat enjoyable. Partly because the task was split and partly because you got to spend time with your husband.

“I think we need to go to sleep now. I’m tired from all that.” Sunghoon agrees, tiredness also evident in his features. The two of you proceeded to your nightly routine in silence, battery recharging bit by bit.

Then, you settled down in your shared bed with his arms wrapped around yours.

It was cold, but the warmth of the blankets and his body heat gave you a sense of comfort and reassurance, the kind that had your eyes blinking in utter drowsiness. “So warm…” You mumble in his embrace as Sunghoon traced circular patterns around your back.

He lifted your pajama shirt just slightly, allowing him to grasp the exposed part. “Thank you, baby.” He whispers, kissing your forehead ever so gently. “Mmh? For what?”

“For this. I’m grateful for you and this beautiful family we’ve built.”

You smiled, “Are you happy to have me?”

Sunghoon nuzzled his head in your neck, inhaling the fresh soap you’d showered with. Then, he peppered soft kisses to your shoulder, down to your collarbone. “More than. I love you so much.”

“Sunghoon, just wondering…”

Sunghoon hums, you feel the drowsiness start to make its way to his features. “Those days at the office, you know, when you were being mean and an ass and all that.”

Sunghoon chuckles, nuzzling his head in your neck as you tease, “Why’d you suddenly become all nice and offer a ride home?”

“I’m not a complete ass you know.”

“Well, you were.”

“I was but—” He chuckles, pulling away from your embrace slightly and pecking your forehead, your nose, your lips. “Yeji kind of beat me to reality with treating you properly.”

Surprised, you ask, “Yeji? She did that?”

Sunghoon nods, “She said she saw how you looked when you left the company and it made her feel bad.”

“How do I look then?”

“Tired. Anxious. You know, stressed from dealing with my stuff.”

“Ugly?”

“Mmmmm, never ugly baby.” Sunghoon’s lips ghosted above yours, and it didn’t take long before he kissed you with such love. The kiss was slow, careful, and filled with sleepiness that you chuckled in the midst of it.

“Always pretty.” He mumbles. You grin, “Always pretty?”

Without any more words said, Park Sunghoon nodded and soon dozed off to sleep with a large grin adorning his features. He relaxed against your touch and your touch alone, no longer was he the Park Sunghoon that had the entire weight of the world on his shoulders.

You shared that weight with him.

So you kissed the top of his head, ruffling his soft hair within your fingertips.

“I love you too.”

[wishing-stones]

you said ren started getting along okay with error sometimes, how does everyone else react to him?

He tolerates Ren. They aren't terrible for a human.

As for everyone else...

Killer drives him nuts. They've gone to considerable blows before and Error has hurt him just as badly as Killer hurt him. Mostly, Killer likes to needle him, and Error's short temper seems to be a point of amusement. They don't get along, but he won't attack on sight. Killer himself thinks Error is fun to play with, and if there's a chance to push buttons, well.... he's really good at that.

Dust makes him uneasy, but since he's so chill... he's less of an issue. Dust is only really a problem when he's actively being dangerous, in which case, Error avoids him to the best of his capabilities. He's found out that 'tie him up and put him somewhere' is a viable strategy here. Dust doesn't mind him overly, but if he's an obstacle, he gets treated as such.

Axe is concerning half the time. Error feels like the larger skeleton looks through him. No matter how angry or antagonistic Error is, Axe seems to handle him well enough. He'll defend himself, of course, but if there's no actual danger, Axe just waits him out. Error hates that, but... it also makes him a little more tolerable to be around if there's no fight happening. Axe doesn't mind him terribly as long as he's not being an active mennace.

Cross is on-sight. These two hate each other, and Cross is not keen on giving Error the chance to try to finish what he started. Cross treats him with 'strike before stricken' and Error... is very reactive. If there's no active conflict, they're likely still glaring daggers at one another and watching the other's movements for a chance to strike if it's there. They can begrudgingly occupy the same space sometimes.

Baggs thinks Error is interesting. He'd like to come to understand the specific code-corruption that lead to Error becoming who he is. There's loads of questions he has that he'd like answered, and Error is very disinclined to let him close enough to figure that out. Baggs unsettles him. He's fully aware of everyone's capabilities (he watches just about everything) and the doc is no exception. He's gotten tied up and put in a corner on several different occasions. It doesn't seem to bother Baggs any, and he's patient-- he's sure he'll get a closer, safer study eventually.

Nightmare deals with him on commission only. He's tried several times to get Error under his thumb, and none of his efforts have succeeded. Error would rather flip him the bird and walk backwards into the anti-void than do what Nightmare wants without compensation. That being said, he can be bought, and doesn't object to running transactional favors every now and again. Nightmare... has given up waiting him out. Maybe some day he'll get tired of the anti-void and come seeing better accommodations, but Nightmare won't hold his breath.

[hazelsmirrorball]

Bed Chem | Oscar Piastri x Singer! Reader

summary: when rumors build up calming that the couple had broken up, they decided to break the internet with a new music video

faceclaim: Sabrina Carpenter

pairings: oscar piastri x gf!singer!reader

a/n: Excuse any errors english isn’t my main language

oscxy/n via instagram !

liked by user167, user189 and 1,560 other.

oscxy/n been missing them more than usual!

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user14 they usually give us nothing but i honestly prefer the “soft” launching then having nothing

-> user189 soft launching?! they’ve been doing that for like five years now. Do they know we know they are dating each other or do we still need to act ?

user17 i know they don’t owe us anything but what if they broke up? Oscar hasn’t been liking y/n’s post since january

user34 i just want what they have!!!

user67 okay but when are we getting popstar x f1 book?

user902 what y/n should do is realease “gross”!!! A instagram post is not enough

user98 let them breathe please!!!!

f1.gossip via instagram !

liked by landonorris, user15 and 12,000 others.

f1.gossip a close source to the australian F1 driver, Oscar Piastri confirms that he and popstar, Y/n L/n are no longer together after five years of dating. Source claims that the “please please please” singer was found getting extra cozy with her music video love interest for the “Feather” music video.

view all comments

user167 this is a lie, they told me personally that they are still together!

user51 can you guys please keep their private life private

user091 gossip pages try not to invade peoples privacy, level 100

user17 why is lando lurking in the likes?

user78 please don’t tell me lando is the “close source”

user51 they have to be together!!! no one is separating my parents

user578 please!!! i know they rarely post each other but let’s make it know that they are still together

user479 guys guys guys!!! this means we are getting a new album

y/n via instagram!

liked by logansargent, lilymhe and 2,478,892 others.

y/n well, i guess it’s time to write new music again

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user16 omg it is real.

user78 y/n unfollowed oscar!!

user89 guys! guys! guys! i need someone to talk about this!!

user57 i’m sorry but this is insane

logansargent super proud of the new music!

-> user89 now we know who got logan in the divorce

user71 are we finally getting an angsty heartbreak album?!

y/n via instagram stories

oscarandy/n updates via instagram!

liked by user17, user67 and 1,493 others

oscarandy/nupdates Oscar in Y/n's album release party?! OMG

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user72 guys? are we all seeing the same thing? the is not Oscar in the first pic

user57 don't be dell they are literally in two different places

user28 guys, let stop this. They clearly broke up. There is no point of digging more into this

user32 well, guess it's time to say goodbye to our Lover

user98 pretty sure we are finally getting a sad album

y/nhq via instagram!

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 2,891,298 others

y/nhq the music video for "Bed Chem" is out right now!! feat. Oscar Piastri

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user18 I thought we were getting a heartbreak album but this is going to be the ovulation album of the century

user71 bed chem is amazing!!!

user910 guys guys guys who can I tell this too

user280 okay but the two of them making out on top of the mclaren was crazyyyy

user18 I didn't know they had it in them

user52 and we thought they broke up, those two were just rehearsing for this damn video

y/n updates via instagram!

liked by y/n, oscarpiastri and 1,567 others.

y/nupdates Y/n got asked how was filming "Bed Chem" with Oscar.

"Honestly, we were so shy about it at first. Like we usually are really shy when it comes to out relationship and being public about it. Now, by doing this everyone was going to see a part we see behind close doors"

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user19 guys this is crazyyyyy

user28 they are so cute I love them!!

user51 shy? Oscar's hand placement was everything but shy

user28 I know they were obsessed with eachother

user539 she was such a blushing mess in this interview

user78 I love seeing this side of our girl

y/n via insta stories! oscarpiatri via insta!

oscarpiastri via instagram!

liked by landonorris, logansargent and 832,902 others.

oscarpiastri so happy to finally be my lovers, love interest. Guess I'll switch professions! (by the way, yes I'm the cute boy with the white jacket and the cute accent!)

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user17 Oscah, you little slut

user78 omg omg we finally get a post of them together

mclaren please don't

user24 they are so cute

user28 Oscar, can you fight?

y/n I love you so so much! My forever love interest

user27 Oscar, we heard bed chem...didn't imagine you as the kinky type

landonorris honestly need to get that song out of my head because I can't imagine you like that

[bitchlessdino]

Killer Courtship (m)

Pairing: divorce lawyer!jihoon x ex fiance!fem!reader Genre: crime, angst, smut Word count: 25.9k rating: R tags: Ft. Seungkwan, brother in law!seungkwan, mentions of crime/murder, mentions of blood, murder suspect!reader, murder suspect!reader, mentions of controlling parents, heiress!reader, divorce lawyer!jihoon, college au, domestic au, unwanted touches, unprotected sex, oral sex Summary: It you were lucky enough in love, you'd end the doomed engagement before it stirs up in inevitable divorce. If you were unlucky, however, you'd end up going to your divorce attorney ex for a different marriage you're trying to get out of. Bonus points if you're a murder suspect. author note: thank you @lovetaroandtaemin for beta reading i always love and appreciate your help. part of DON'T HATE, LITIGATE Collabe hosted by @/Haologram. everyone else enjoy and sorry for the drought 🥲

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @kyeomiis @wonwooz1-blog @horanghaezone @stagefrjghts @pantumin @aaniag @mochisdayone @gyuguys @idubiluranghae

The happiest you’ve ever been…

“I can’t believe I’m gonna be Mrs. Lee Jihoon.”

Jihoon chuckles at your whimsy before shielding your eyes with his palm, drawing the heat away from the sun. “How long are you gonna look at that thing?”

You let your simple band bestowed on your ring finger gleam in the sunlight, turning your hand over and back with no rest. “Oh, this is gonna be my personality for… the end time.”

“For the end of time?”

“For the end of time.”

He conjures an impressed expression, gently tracing over the curve of your jaw. “That’s a very long time.”

You place your hand over his, beaming up at your now fiancé. “And yet it’s still not enough. I feel like I’m dreaming.”

He shares the same sentiment, but still he asks, “Why?”

Your hand reaches out to touch his face, feeling how tangible he is, how real he is. The man of your dreams, the reason you breathe, the embodiment of everything amazing and wonderful is in your grasp, looking in admiration at you the way you are at him. You gush, his smile making you feel more elated than the giddiest of schoolchildren. Meanwhile, your heart moves in a steadily growing rhythm, and you don’t think you could be more happy until you’re at the aisle walking towards this same man. “I never thought I’d meet someone that could want me so much. Especially you. And now I can’t imagine it being anyone else.”

His eyes soften, gently stroking the side of your head. He bends down to meet your lips that naturally fits his mold, tasting each other as you’ve done a million times, and yet are never sick of. “I love you so much.”

“I love you.” Your eyes bat slowly back at him, swallowing the breath you take as you take in everything for all it is. “I always will.”

Present day…

The clock hands tick away as if taunting the young lawyer’s last moments. He twirls a pen between his fingers, finalizing the last case for the hour before the annoying clock inevitably strikes 6 PM, his quitting hour if he can help it. 

For the last few years, Jihoon has done nothing but work past the last work hour to make ends meet, but today is the day he’ll leave on time for once. No buts, ands, or ifs. No exceptions.

Fifteen minutes and going. He’s gonna make it. He’s so sure, that he even let the office aide head home early so she can tend to her kids and useless husband. She deserves it, much like Jihoon deserves this. A proper end of the day. 

Five Minutes. Everything is looking flawless. He’s looking front and back, left and right, electrically and manually handling everything to avoid errors. He’s going to make it. He’s going to make it.

One minute. Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door, and he’s betting on it being Cheryl, the office aid, so he can scold her for going against his orders but not really. He appreciates her too much and knows she has it rough. 

Despite the guest being unwelcome—“Come in. This better be good,” he shouts from his desk.

The knob turns reluctantly, anxiously even, and Jihoon still has not looked up from his desk to check who it is because there is not a single person he could think of that would be worth overtime. Despite that, he knows he's not looking forward to whatever case is being thrown his way, judging by their inconsiderate choice of timing.

“Hello, my name is Lee Jihoon, Family Law attorney at large. How may I help you today during the very late work hour…?”

When he finally lifts his gaze from the desk, he sees the source of the disruption. All thoughts are suddenly out of the window. His legs move before his mind catches up, pushing him upright as awe anchors his gaze. Slowly, he removes his glasses from the bridge of his nose, narrowing his focus on the figure before him. Is it his eyes deceiving him—or his mind—that conjures this painfully familiar mirage standing just out of reach?

“Hi, Jihoon.” You finally say, a soft smile on your beautifully aged face. “I’m sorry for coming so late. I needed assistance as soon as I could, and I just came out from work.”

“Hey, you.” Great start there, big guy. “How are you here?”

“Well,” you point your thumb over to the obvious, “the door to start.”

“Ha, yeah. I mean what brings you in,” he asks slowly, putting back on his glasses and settling down in his chair before gesturing to you to do the same in one of the seats in front of him.

“Well,” you begin settling in the leather of the chair, “I want a divorce.”

Well. Those are never words he thought to hear from your mouth. And he never thought he’d be on the other end relieved to hear them. Fuck it.  Another late night it is.

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that,” he replies with the utmost sympathy, hiding the hint of interest threatening to slip through his tone. This is his first love after all, god forbid he isn’t still a little in love with them, and happy to hear they’re looking to be back on the market again.

Your hands settle on your thighs, acknowledging his gesture with an incoherent mumble before meeting his eyes, remembering how beautiful they always looked gazing back at you. “Yeah, well it was a long time coming. The marriage lasted a lot longer than it should’ve.”

“I bet.” Jihoon quickly catches himself, “I mean, a lot of clients feel that way, but before any big decisions, I should ask you the standard questions I always ask potential clients before we proceed.”

“Of course,” you amicably agree. “Do what you need to, Hoon.” You’re now the one catching yourself, finding yourself calling the familiar nickname you called your ex-boyfriend/fiancé. “I mean Jihoon. Mr. Lee? Attorney Lee?”

“Please stop. It hurts to watch.” He teases, crinkling his nose with a feigned look of cringe, but smiling like a man who feels otherwise.

You playfully roll your eyes. “Okay, okay. Lay it on me.”

Jihoon asks you the typical questions. Living arrangements? Presence of children? Assets? Reasons for divorce? And any heavier topics that he wouldn’t ask otherwise unless put in the situation. Then again it was you. He’d probably learn all there he needs to know to have you safe.

He’s pleased to learn that no children were involved, and you’ve been living at your summer home away from your husband for a few months now; and it’s a no-fault divorce, but he knows that already. That was a good sign for him already. Assets, however—

“You kind of know the gist, having been there at the beginning. I was inclined to marry him, and if I didn’t, risk future inheritance and be possibly shunned from my family until the end of time. The divorce would bring that all come to fruition with the prenup. Doesn’t help that he has the same deal with his parents, so there’s been a little friction with that, but at this point, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need their money. I just want out.”

He taps his pen against his notes, earnestly analyzing the words from front to back. “Hmm, it’d be useful if you’d bring it the next time you visit. Hopefully during working hours this time? Like lunch or something.” He hints and feels the regret seep in as the guilt washes over your face.

“I really am sorry again.” You make yourself small in your seat, squeezing your thighs tightly together as you bow your head. “God, I’m treating you like a therapist.”

He waves his hand reassuringly. “It’s alright. What’s divorce attorney ex-fiancés good for if not to help out their ex with their divorce and listen to their marital issues?”

You break out in a smile, shaking your head as your cheeks fail to deflate. “It really is so good to see you.”

“You too. You look good.” The weight of his words is damning, dripping with longing poorly masked by his professional disposition. He feels his role as lawyer that he’s worked at for several years slips away in a matter of seconds as his eyes take in every atom of you.

The simple words heat up your cheeks, and his shameless gaze knocks the wind out of your lungs, all the familiar feelings rushing back. “You look good.”

He savors your saccharine tone as it makes his blood rush down in places he wouldn’t dare mention in front of a client, even you. He hides his impatience behind his desk, gripping the edges to support and restrain himself from crossing the lines that take him out of a rational mind. “So, how did you find me?”

“Excuse me.” You cross your arms with a warped smile. “You probably have one of the most common names in existence. ‘Lee Jihoon?’ I’d have to look through hundreds—if not thousands—of them to find you.”

“Well, did you?”

“Well, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t kind of excited seeing your face on the website.”

Jihoon has to remember to thank Wonwoo, who insisted on taking his work profile picture for him, later. “I make you excited? Well, Miss, I may be arranging your divorce, but you are still married. Find some self-control.”

“Shut. Up.” You attempt to feign sternness, but your smile deceives you, almost inviting the banter the lawyer incited. 

“Make me.”

You stare back at him for a moment, watching the flirtatious challenge ooze from his eyes in a familiar way, which stirs something in you that you haven’t felt in a long time. Its lightheartedness starts to burn hotter, turning your stomach and deflating your chest as you expel a faint breath.

“I…should go,” you respond, breathless. You pick up your purse and turn away, a sly grin tugging at your lips as you toss the next words over your shoulder. “Lunch tomorrow it is. I’ll bring the paperwork.”

“And I’ll be here,” he bids with a salute, which he quickly regrets as soon as you leave.

Jihoon feels compelled the following day to dress in his best office attire, well-tailored but not trying too hard, and spritz a cologne he thought he threw away a long time ago along with the relationship that came with it. Its familiar notes fill him with a warm sensation. The kind that tightens his chest and tenses his muscles that cling to the fabric of his clothes. And he knows that when he checks himself every few minutes in the bathroom mirror or the reflection off the glass of his office room window—making sure it emphasizes just how much he’s been building his body to be at peak physique while simultaneously watching the time slowly tick until his appointment.

When you finally arrive, you carry a certain demeanor that makes him feel twenty again, as if you had just stepped out of class to see him waiting for you to walk you to your next one. You're perfect in your perfect blouse and perfectly tight pencil skirt. It makes him take a breath, loosening the grip on his tie to lessen the strain. “Hello, Miss Client.”

“Hello, Mr. Lawyer,” you lightly greet back.

Jihoon chuckles, waving you over. “So, what are you craving while we work on things? Lunch on me.”

You talk shop over gyudon, a meal that immediately comes to mind, and fortunately, a good and quick spot is just nearby. It reminds you both of something you would eat together religiously back then. To this day, Jihoon sometimes can’t pick up a piece of shredded beef topped with caramelized onions without picturing you parallel to him doing the same.

He knows he’d be crazy to admit out loud that it is straight out of a dream to be eating lunch with you again, but it is. Even more surreal that you’ve now become a client in a case that caused your breakup in the first place. 

Before the breakup…

To say Jihoon felt drawn to you instantly the first time you met was the understatement of the century.

But before you, he only knew the law. Having grown up with Criminal Minds and SVU, he knew since his pubescence he was going to be a lawyer. No tragic backstory of a relative dying from a crime. No story of him or someone else being almost convicted. He just simply thought that to be in the hands of someone's fate in the courtroom was not only intriguing but dangerous. A power not to be taken lightly.

It became his whole life and the only thing he’d ever thought about doing ever. So, he did the only rational thing he could do: he studied his ass off every minute of his life if he wanted to pass the bar one day.

That is, until a little distraction like you came along. At the ripe age of twenty years old, Jihoon met someone who would one day change the trajectory of his life. Someone just as important as becoming a lawyer was. He didn’t think that was possible for someone as ambitious and driven as him. Distractions came rare to him. There was never space for a romantic subplot in his story.

He mentally thanked his former roommate, Soonyoung, everyday for taking the last afternoon slot for the required Psychology course. If he hadn’t, he wouldn't have been forced to take the morning classes, the same morning classes that you ended up attending. 

He wouldn’t have gotten to occupy the seat next to yours every day for all of the semester, having the habit of getting to know you and learning things about you that he would’ve otherwise ignored about anyone else. Like how you prefer iced coffee no matter how below freezing temperature it was, or how your fingers curl and crunch up anxiously before giving a presentation—the little things.

And he most certainly wouldn’t have given in to the pressure of asking you out if he hadn’t gotten to know you in the class the way he did. There wasn’t a chance in hell he would’ve had the courage to approach you. A blessing in disguise shaped in the form of a breathtaking human being. And for some crazy reason, you said yes, because you liked him back. Gosh, his heart was soaring that day. He finally understood what butterflies in one's stomach meant.

What had started as a budding infatuation, blossomed into an epic love story for the ages—well, at least he liked to think so. He knew he’d remember and relive this period of his life for as long as he was alive. There was nothing like being in love.

And what was crazy to him was that you liked him as much as he liked you. The way you’d look at him as if he held the universe in the palms of his hands, or how tight you’d hold him when he would pull you towards his chest and lock you in a secure embrace. It’s as if the world faded around you—or maybe, you just became his world.

Before he realized it, you had become just as much a part of his life as his studies were, if not more. It pivoted his life in a path he never planned for, and strangely enough, he looked forward to it. He looked forward to the route you were taking him in. Whatever life had to throw, he’d be ready if you were by his side.

And that’s how it was for the first couple of years. You spent every waking moment together, every meal, every lecture, everything that mattered. With you, everything seemed to matter. And that’s how he ended up proposing too; that day during a picnic with the sunniest of skies under the biggest tree in the park with the cheesiest smile on his face. He was truly the luckiest man he knew.

God, did he love you. And god, did you love him. 

But something changed shortly after the proposal. Drastically.

You had been distant with Jihoon for reasons he couldn’t explain, but he’s never been one to pry, so he'd given you your space, even when you never asked for it. He respected boundaries and would never make you give up yours for the sake of his comfort, so he waited.

Maybe that’s when it started. When he didn't fight for your attention. He wonders if that’s where things started going wrong.

Unlike you, Jihoon isn’t one for confrontation, but if you want him to burn the world, in a heartbeat he would. There isn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for you, he just needs to hear it. It’d be anything.

“I can’t marry you,” you say in a quiet voice.

Almost anything.

You push your engagement ring towards Jihoon, unable to meet his eyes, as dark clouds hover above your head.

Jihoon gulps, choking on a breath he’s been holding since you called him over for this lunch date. He’s thinking things are just turning around, that you’d stop avoiding him like you have been. Then this hurdle–hurricane is thrown in his face.

And he knows exactly why. 

After he proposed, he met your parents for the first time, your parents who lived in a different world than he ever could. They didn’t approve of your choice of a partner given his inferior background. They didn’t approve of this marriage. They didn’t approve of Jihoon. They had other plans in mind for their one and only daughter. Bigger, grander plans than Jihoon could ever fathom.

Since then, hope seemed lost. However, you thought you could convince them. Jihoon put his faith in you, because why wouldn’t he? He’s madly in love with you. He trusts you. He knows that you did the best you could.

“Didn’t budge, huh?” he asks with a bitter smile. 

You sigh, before running your hands over your face in frustration. “You know it’s not your fault. They’re so stubborn about me marrying to preserve the company. Why should it be my responsibility? I didn’t ask for any of this.”

Your eyes flit to meet his, barely staying open. “If I had it my way—“

“But you don’t,” he cuts off.

“Hoon.”

He holds your hand in his, his thumb caressing over your naked knuckles. He swallows back a laugh of disbelief. He knew that happiness couldn’t have been that easy and within reach. Finally, he looks back at you and brings your hands towards his lips, kissing the balls of your palms as a single tear falls from the corner of his eye. “I love you. You make me the happiest person alive. And I want to marry you…but if our worlds are tearing us apart…”

The image of the man you love crying rips you to shreds, the agonizing pain stretching throughout your entire body, and you move towards him and you take him in your arms. Your lips quiver, letting out a shattered breath, feeling his tears now soaking through the cotton of your shirt. You don’t know what else to say at this moment except, “I love you, Jihoon.”

Present day…

“Okay, the prenup settles pretty much most of what we’re looking for, so the process will luckily be pretty straightforward.”

“Okay,” you nod in acknowledgment. “Like I thought. How long of a process is it going to be?”

Jihoon hums, tapping his pen to his chin. “Depends on the talk with his attorney. It'll be a clean and quick process if they're anything like me.”

You can’t help but smile. “No one’s like you, Hoo—Jihoon.”

He grins, catching your slip-up. “Well, one can hope.”

You press your lips in a firm line, your ears growing warm as you gather your files, tapping them on the desk to line them up in a neat stack. “Well, this was really helpful. Thank you for taking time out of your lunch to do this. You really shouldn’t have.”

“Anything for a friend.”

A light dims in your eyes, and your grip on the belongings tighten. “Right. Well, I’ll talk to him about the situation, and we’ll set up an appointment so we can all meet. I’ll let you know.”

“I look forward to it,” he responds earnestly.

Finally, Jihoon would be able to meet the bastard that your parents thrust upon you face to face. 

He wants to assume that now and in the past your husband is just like you, forced upon this marriage for the sake of appearance and business ties. However, the more he spends time, how little you speak of him, the more he notices how you grow stiff when he’s audibly brought up, implying a strained relationship. That guy has already lost Jihoon’s good graces by that alone.

“Thank you. So what can we do in the meantime?”

“You make your plans moving forward as a single woman. Get your things in order, and that includes your personal matters, like your family that I assume are involved.”

You stiffen, nodding at the sad reminder. “Yeah. They are. Thank you for lunch.”

As you begin to leave, Jihoon can’t help but stop you in your tracks. He knows if he doesn’t say what is on his mind now he’ll regret it, unwilling to make the same mistakes he did in the past. “Hey, um. If you’re looking for more advice regarding this matter or what to expect after this whole ordeal, my office is always open during lunch hours. For you anyways.”

You give him a soft frown, shaking your head. “I couldn’t do that to you.”

“No, really,” he insists, not taking no for an answer, a touch of plead in his eyes. “I think with you around it’s the only way I actually eat during lunch.”

The corners of your lips finally turn up, tugging at Jihoon’s heartstrings and eating him up from the inside. “Then, maybe I’ll take you up on it.”

There is a certain comfort in the routine, knowing there’s something to look forward to every weekday at noon between the hours of 11:45AM to 12:55PM. You inevitably have to go back to your office, but Jihoon looks forward to those hours now, watching the hands of the clock tick by until lunchtime. It’s a game he’s started to play by himself, somehow always the loser with a big grin on his face when you’re right at the front of his door and the same loser with a sad smile when you have to leave.

“That’s so you. I can’t believe you still listen to that stuff.” Jihoon chuckles, stabbing at his teriyaki chicken pieces before stuffing them in his mouth.

“Oh, of course I do! These are real! Cut-throat! Blood-thirsty murder-cases! Most of the time involving women. That could be me one day. Can never be too safe,” You playfully warn, pointing your chopsticks at him.

“Maybe, but you come from one of the wealthiest families in the country and married into one of the other wealthiest families in the country. You no doubt have a near impenetrable security system keeping you very locked up and safe in your very nice big home.”

“Which makes me an even bigger target. Ah-ha. Didn’t think about that, did you?”

He rolls his eyes, grinning ear to ear. “Fine. But what does that have to do with crocheting again?”

Your eyes light up, giddily clapping your hands at his reminder. “It’s really nice—well, nice isn’t really the right word—but I listen to it when I'm crocheting. I once made a whole blanket listening to an entire season about a missing person’s case that turned out to be a missing people's case.”

“Of course, you did.”

You get a quick glance at your phone when you grab your drink, seeing a notification pop up to reveal the time. “Oh shoot, I have to head back.”

“Already?” Jihoon tries not to sound too disappointed.

“Yeah. Sorry. It feels like these lunch hours are getting shorter and shorter every day.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be just lunch. We can always get dinner—to talk more about the process and what your next steps can be. How about tonight? Unless that’s too soon?”

You blink back at him, unable to suppress the growing smile on your face. “S-sure. I’ll meet you at your office?”

”Actually, I thought of picking you up at yours?”

With a gentle hum, you nod. “It’s a date.”

So he waits, watching the clock's hands tick until it reaches the hour that indicates the end of the day. He has something he’s looking forward to, giving him all the more reason to take advantage of the extra suits in his office wardrobe for emergencies. Something that has only ever used to be for emergencies, not if he feels like the color navy brings out his eyes more today. But tonight, he has the excuse to look his sharpest, unsure if he’ll ever get this opportunity again.

He can’t help the smile on his face as you walk out of your office building, pushing himself off his car to completely take in your presence as if he hadn’t just seen you hours ago. Resembling someone watching their prom date dramatically descend a flight of stairs, Jihoon feels his chest squeeze as you walk closer before standing in front of him, and every date you’ve gone on flashes through his mind, leading up to this very moment.

“Hi.” he softly greets.

“Hey,” you greet back, taking a step closer.

”Ready?” he asks, and a nod is all he needs before you lose yourselves in the night.

You explore deeper in the center of the city, sauntering the streets aimlessly as you look for a spot to situate yourself, somewhere you could talk and enjoy each other‘s presence without interruption. As if someone heard your pleas, a cafe catches your attention off in the distance, its white fluorescent sign flickering its bold cursive back at you, beckoning you towards it. And as you turn to Jihoon, his expression matches yours, knowing you’ve found just the place.

Once the door swings open, Jihoon is immediately hit with the aroma of freshly ground coffee brewed to perfection. Its nutty sweet scent dances in the air as sweet, fruity notes linger nearby. Nostalgia hits him in an instant, and he recalls a younger version of himself with you by his side feeding him a sip of your devilish concoction of a strawberry mocha with two shots of espresso. The disdain on his face was evident, when he kissed your lips, it was a different world. It was tolerable, or maybe everything you had to offer made him infinitely love you more.

“Oh my god,” he quietly whispers to himself.

“Jihoon?”

He jolts back into reality, your beautiful face warped as your eyes scans over him with concern. “Sorry. I think I got lost in a moment there.”

You curiously narrow your eyes, following after him as he entered the cafe. “Really? What happened?”

“Let’s sit first. What’ll you have?”

After retrieving your drink order, Jihoon glances at the drink in your hand, saddened that you opted for a plain americano over your college usual. It was about every other day that you’d order one, and to this day he wonders how you’re alive and kicking with thousands of calories you consumed from that beverage alone. It seems things have changed since, and he’s unsure whether it's for the better, but it gave him all the more reason to order it for himself. Although he hated it in the past, maybe he'd like it now.

“Blech!” Nope. Still awful.

You muse at his disgusted expression. “Oh my god, Jihoon. What did you order?”

“Don’t recognize it?” He lifts up the drink, licking up the whipped cream from the corner of his lips. “Your famous strawberry mocha.”

“You remember that? You hated that drink!”

“Yeah, but,” he holds the drink close to his chest, as if cherishing it. “You liked it. Why don’t you anymore?”

“It’s not that I don't, it's just…so bad for me.” You grip your Americano loosely, gulping at the decadent visuals of the nostalgic drink in his hand. “I can’t have something like that all the time.”

Meanwhile, Jihoon sips the drink as you explain yourself, making faces as he listens in. You narrow your eyes at him, the corner of your lips turning down before you give him a disciplinary tap to the shoulder.

“Stop drinking it!”

“I paid for it. I’ll do what I want.”

You groan, shoving the untouched Americano and stealing the strawberry mocha for yourself. “There. Now everyone’s happy.”

“Who said I wanted an Americano?” He retorts with a smile, happy to see his previous beverage right where it belongs.

“You definitely don’t want the mocha.”

“I do though.”

You roll your eyes, softly scoffing and giving him a wry smile. “You’re so stubborn. It's written all over your face how much you hate it.”

“But you like it,” he retorts, sipping his new Americano, somehow missing the conflicting taste of his previous beverage.

You cover your hot cheeks with the palm of your hand, eyes pointed away from him as the sound of your accelerating heart pounds against your ear drums. You start to wonder to yourself how this man at damn near thirty years is still as cute as he was at twenty years old. 

“You really haven't changed.”

He snorts. “You insulting me?

“Not at all.” Chuckling, you sip your newly acquired drink, the clash of the bitter coffee and sickly sweet fruity syrup battling on your taste buds. It may have been more of your tastes back in college. “So that moment you had. What was that about?”

“Moment?”

“You stopped all of a sudden when we came through the front door. It was like a lightbulb went off in your head or something.”

He softly smiles, taking small sips of his drink, warmth rushing toward his cheeks in contrast to the chilled beverage wrapped with his slender digits. “Something like that?”

You tilt your head, “Hmm?”

He hesitates, avoiding your gaze. “I…just suddenly thought about back then…when we were together honestly. It was nothing.”

You suck in your teeth dubiously, smiling with your eyes. “Sure didn’t seem that way.”

“It made me happy,” he admits earnestly, his voice coated in something reminiscent of honey, so decadent, you feel the strong desire to taste more.

“The memory?”

“Yeah,” he confirms with a faint smile, “A lot of things you did make me happy.”

Your lips part as you drink in his response, whatever words you were about to say next dying on your tongue as you take a long nervous sip of your stolen beverage, cheeks ablaze. You watch as the blood rushes towards his cheeks, flushing them a soft pink as he leisurely sips his newly acquired drink, stealing glances at you.

Jihoon finds it nice to divulge his past once in a while, but he doesn’t have many people to do that with, and the person he wants to do it the most with for the longest time was married and out of his life. But even if he did talk about his past, that meant having to confront the obstacles he jumped, the losses that were out of his control, and the pain that he endured only to end up the loser. Now, he doesn’t have to be scared anymore. You’re back. Back in his life and hopefully for good whether it is as a friend, or employer and employee, he’ll take it.

“This was really nice.”

Jihoon hums in agreement. “Yeah, kinda felt like we were back in college again.”

You chuckle, turning to him as you reach towards the steps of your residence. It was a lot different than the dorms from back then. Yet, you can’t help but understand where he’s coming from. “Yeah. It’s funny. You’d always walk me back to my apartment too, even though yours was in the opposite direction.”

“And it was worth it,” he retorts, stubbornly. “Because I got to see you get inside safely. The distance didn’t matter to me.”

“And you wouldn’t take my gas money.” You pout, tugging on his sleeve.

“No, I didn’t.” He shakes his head, accepting your hand in his and finding them naturally interlock. “Not when I can pay for myself just fine.”

“So I would invite you inside, let you have a drink—or three.”

Jihoon chuckles, reminded of his coke zero habit that you’d always indulge with a splash of rum. “And…” he steps closer towards you, closing the distance. “I’d end up staying over longer than I expected to.”

You lightly grasp the lapel of his coat, eyes glossing over his appearance. “And I didn’t mind it one bit.”

Your gaze drifts off to his lips, softly puckering as they part. Your chest heaving, you feel yourself drawing closer. Jihoon’s warmth is a tempting mistress before he holds you in place, startling you as he puts a halt to your movements. Your eyes shoot back at him, rapid panic in your eyes, disappointment seeping through you.

“That might be a bad idea,” he warns, but not backing away.

Your hands creep up his neck. “When have we ever let that stop us?”

He lightly scoffs, able to name once—the last instance you were together. It emerges, memories that he can’t help but twist up his heart that’s been stretched and pummeled until past recognition. He has to be realistic. “We’re a little older now and…you’re still technically married.”

“We’ve spent the better half of a decade avoiding each other because we were scared of the consequences. We don’t have to be scared anymore. I haven’t seen you in years, and I still feel the way I did all those years ago. Tell me you don’t.”

“You know I…” His words die on his lips. It’s obvious what he wants. He wants you. It’s all he’s ever wanted.

Your hands caress over the nape of his neck, and the hairs of his neck stand stiff as goosebumps pebble his skin. “You what, Jihoon?”

His eyes flutter in disbelief, melting against your touch as he succumbs to your warmth, the world around him fading. The only drinks he had tonight night were of the nonalcoholic variety, but staring back at you, he feels drunk, feening for a taste of something else right in front of him. “Want you more than anything.”

When his lips crash against yours, he can feel your heart leap from your chest, air pushing against his lungs. The heat that radiates off your body envelopes him despite the biting cold winds, flustering his cold cheeks as he feels you kiss him back. He takes a deep breath, reveling in the silken sensation of your lips, searing against his as his hand falls into your hair.

He isn’t sure if he knew how it felt to kiss you again, but it was muscle memory. From the way you drag him by his coat collar, slipping through the thick fabric to find the warm body underneath, he knows nothing is coming back from this. And even if there is, he doesn’t want it if it doesn’t have you.

You both barely make it up the steps of the house after hearing how one of you haphazardly closes the automated locking door, and he follows your footsteps to a room of your choosing, knowing he’ll follow you anywhere. 

The large coat is tugged immediately off of him, hearing it thud on the ground, you make his sweater follow suit. You grapple at the seams of his dress shirt, gingerly unlatching one button at a time, and Jihoon’s lips find your neck, burying himself in the crook, rendering you speechless as he tastes your flustered skin. Meanwhile, his hands roam over your figure through your clothes before the skirt becomes as useful as his coat as he shoves it down your thighs and lets it fall to your ankles to be kicked aside.

Your flesh spills between his fingers, kneading your ass between his knuckles, and he feels your moan vibrate in your throat against his lips. Jihoon sighs, familiarizing with the ache and longing of your voice as he lifts you from the ground to wrap your legs around his torso, nudging his excitement against lower abdomen.

He presses you against a wall, his hand cushioning the impact to your lower back, he reunites with your lips, devouring you endlessly. He feels for your thighs as he holds you still, dragging his hips against them as he rid himself of his shirt and you of yours, the only thing keeping you apart being his trousers and the underwear scantily clad on your body. The body he’s imagined for years after you left.

“Jihoon, don’t stare.” Jihoon lets out a shattered breath before regaining clarity, realizing that he let his eyes linger longer than he intended, broken from his trance at the sound of your whines. 

“A lot has changed since we were last intimate, ” You softly defend, pressing yourself against his body to shield your build, only letting his hunger to swell against the seams of his pants.

“It has.” His lips land on the center of your lips, hugging yours as he slips through and collects the underside of your breast in his palm. With a gentle squeeze, the vibrations of your mewl run a chill path down his spine. “You’ve never looked more beautiful.”

“And you…Fuck,” You cry in anguish, holding his face in your hands, fingers combing through his hair as your chest heaves. “You have no idea how much I wanted to see this gorgeous face again.”

You’ve taken the words right out of his mouth, and hearing them out loud only kindles the fire in his stomach brighter and uncontainable. He can’t take it anymore, he has to have you. In sheer desperation, he maneuvers the unbuckling of his pants, adjusting the waistband of briefs, too frantic to even bother pulling either of them down properly. Instead, his desire springs out from their confines, raging and bold as he grasps himself by the shaft, the elastic hanging by his firm thighs. “God, I missed you. I need to find a condom. Please tell me where one is before I embarrass myself on your floor.”

Chuckling, your hands slide down his cheeks, meeting his eyes that glisten in anticipation as his swollen lips part in an eager quiver. “I don’t want you to use one. After so long I just want to feel you—all of you. Please...”

“You’d let me do that?”

Your fingertips softly dance over his pink cheeks, emitting tingles against his skin. “I’d let you do anything you want.”

“What I want to do…” He lets the tips of your noses meet, and you bite back a premature moan, melting at your flushed skin pressed against each other. “...is make you remember what you sound like screaming my name. Have you feel so much pleasure you’re begging me to stop.”

You take a sharp inhale before your mouth curls in a smug smile, letting your hand the firm touch of chest, pulsing beneath your palm. “How convenient. Our interests align.” You close the gap, tasting the heat and your blended breaths. “I knew I picked a good lawyer.”

“Or I just know the right clients to accept.”

Sliding your panties aside, he feels for your slit, finding your slickness as it satisfyingly coats his fingers. He lets his fingers run over your arousal, gliding across your folds, reacquainting himself with an old favorite pastime, and wedges himself between your folds tauntingly. Your smile drops as you bite your lip to suppress a mewl, stabling yourself on his shoulders, while he invades your arousal and thumbs over your clit agonizingly slow. Your throat tightens at the same time your abdomen tenses, unable to stop yourself from arching your back and leaning into his touch.

Your vision flutters in and out of view, legs tingling as he dips a single digit to penetrate your blossoming walls, the slickness welcoming his thrusts. Your jaw drops slightly, the pads of your fingers pressing dents into his shoulder blades as he curls himself inside you, and you shudder and a whimper exposes your urgency.

“That good?” He gives you a cheeky grin. “Must be if you’re that fucking wet.”

“Shut up,” you lightly retort, only to feel him push it in deeper, holding it inside you before plunging himself into you at a gradually growing pace.

He draws his lips to your ears, his usually gentle voice dropping lower and saying that familiar expression that always made you a little crazy when you heard it. “Make me.”

The finger is joined by another, and he starts playing with your vocal cords as if they were strings of violin, making music that bounces from wall to wall. His toned body pinning you down only taunts you, the lack of mobility only offering you the opportunity to sink your teeth in his shoulder or mark his neck in splotchy love bites. Otherwise, you writhe under his claim, grind your sensitive bud against his palm, and your mind draws a blank, any once coherent thought becoming a jumble of words that doesn’t even come close to belonging in the English dictionary.

Jihoon’s eyes flicker with determination, consumed with unbridled lust, and deep down you revel in it. You weren’t sure if Jihoon had moved on from you since everything happened, and selfishly you hoped that he hadn’t. When your hopes rang true, you jumped at the chance. Perhaps had you done it sooner, you’d see these gates of this heaven earlier, and the angel before wouldn’t any longer just be a wet dream, but a soaking reality.

“I’m gonna cum,” you weakly warn.

“So soon, should I stop?” He teases, only shoving his fingers deeper, reaching past his knuckles. 

“But I want to cum on you.” Your bottom lip swelling up in a subtle pout, gripping his form. “I want to cum on your cock.”

His nose traces over yours, his Cheshire grin gracing your flushed cheek. “And you will, because the first time won’t be the last. So, just cum, hmm? Cum all over my hands for me, Angel.”

You brace for impact against the wall, back arching as the moment hits you like a lightning bolt, striking you in erratic shakes, and you clench your legs against his sides. The heat of your climax travels up to your head as it spills out of your body and bucks your hips into his palm. 

Jihoon strokes your side, soothing you as he carries you through your moment of weakness. He coos at you, peppering kisses on your face as he savors your faltering shudders then pulls out his fingers and watches how your eyes shift when they vanish past his lips. Biting back a soft gasp, you hear the sound of his gentle moan against his knuckles as his tongue runs across his digits, snaking and sucking everywhere that shined, chuckling and seeing a burst of fire reignite in your eyes.

“Now put it inside me,” you command, panting and clenching around nothing, already missing the presence of his company.

He tilts his head, smirking. “Already? So soon.”

You shake your head, “I can handle more. A lot more.”

Jihoon scans over you, watching everything from the rise and fall of your bare chest to the tears that briefly stain our cheeks. He can feel his heart pounding his ears and throat drying up like the desert as he stares at your kiss-swollen lips, holding your gaze as if he has only begun appreciating the visionary you are for the first time in what felt like forever. Looking at you feels like falling in love all over again. And love makes Jihoon do anything you want. 

He fiddles with the hem of your underwear, rubbing the lacy material between the pads of his fingers before pulling them down. He lifts your body slightly off the ground, exerting you against the wall, nudging his knee to hold you in place before aligning himself, licking his lips, seeing your arousal on your thighs as they seep out of you like honey. “You asked for it, okay?” 

Your pupils flicker at the back of your skull before looping your arms around his neck, anchoring your legs around his waist as your pussy swallows him between your folds, stretching your walls and spreading your legs wide as your thighs squeeze tightly around him. “Oh, my–fuck…”

There’s only a fraction of him inside you, yet he already has your brain short-circuiting. “Shit,” Jihoon scoffs, dragging his hips in a tight thrust and slamming you hard enough for the vanity table beside you to have a bottle knocked over. “You still feel like you were made just for me.”

“W-wait. Why do you feel so much bigger than I remember?”

His hands caress the underside of your thighs, bouncing you in his grip, as they stiffened in his grasp. “Well, it’s been a while. Maybe you need to get adjusted to my size again. Would you like me to help with that?”

You timidly nod, holding on to his biceps in a vice grip. “Is it going to hurt?”

“Do you want it to hurt?”

“…Yes.”

Snickering, he plunges into your walls, pulsating as he molds you into his shape down to the veins. Your bodies meld into one, not one without the other, and he honors his word. Every second of him buried inside you stings as skin collides, stretching your strained walls, letting you consume the agonizingly indulgent sensation. You swallow the drool pooling in your mouth as his hips continue to snap. You dig your nails into his flesh, forming white crescents, attempting to retain some of your sanity.

Your heart drops the split second you feel his hands leave your body, and you almost plummet to the ground before he slams you against the wall, catching your thighs just before it’s too late and conveniently pushing in deeper. If he cares at all about the mini heart attack he gives you every time he decides to do that, it doesn’t show. No matter how many times you scold him, although, in his defense, they get drowned in the sound of your hunger. 

“Hoon…” You weakly jab at him. “Asshole…”

“You like it,” he teases, before thrusting deeper as his lips roughly trace your mouth. “I hear it in your voice, try to be better at hiding it if you want to convince me.”

You anchor on him by the shoulders before he does it again, almost dropping you to the ground before catching you at the last second, ripping ungodly moans from the depths of your throat. Jihoon finds them delicious, almost as sweet as the sound of his name on your tongue. He doesn’t want to stop when you sound that enticing.

And you hate to admit it, but here’s a thrill every time he does it, the way he manhandles you as if you are his to play with. As if you are his. You could get used to that. After years of being forced apart, you’re ready to take on the world with him again. 

You rake a hand through his hair, pulling at his bottom lips with teeth before he sharply rams into you, hitting your head against the wall only once before pulling off it to carry you to bed. He drops your bodies on the mattress and revels in your heat as he buries deeper inside you. His hands roam up your arms before they pin down your wrists, lips parting in moans as your legs anchor around him.

“I’m never letting you go,” he softly mumbles. “Nothing—no one will get in my way again.”

“Hoon,” you whisper, eyes looking back at him with awe. “And nothing will.”

Your nostalgia filled pleasure plays like a cinematic movie, and your moans and whimpers are the soundtrack of the night. The way your fingers still curl with every caress transforms the home you use as an escape from the rest of the world into a safe haven, completed with the presence of the man you have loved all your life. Lee Jihoon’s mark on you is something that could never be washed away, and once this whole damned situation is over, you will be eternally his. Just as it is meant to be, as it was always supposed to be.

Your bodies fit together seamlessly, nestled underneath the thickness of the thousand-thread count blanket that trapped you both in its security. Your hand slides perfectly over his, while his firm and strong arms envelop your body as his head knocks against yours. You hear him smile as his heart pounds against your ear, fast and alive even in moments of rest.

“You’re staying the night, right?” you timidly ask, turning your head slightly towards him to meet his eyes. “I want to stay in this moment a little longer. Even if you have to leave.”

He gazes down at you, pressing his lips to your temple, the scent of his sweet breath wafting into your nose as you fight off sleep to be conscious in his presence. “I’m not leaving even if someone tried to pry me off you with a crane. I’m staying with you all night.”

Your heart swells as you tenderly smooth your hands over his backside. “Promise. I’ll wake up and you’ll still be here.”

He grabs your waist tighter, the hum of his voice tingling your cheeks as he speaks. “I promise, Angel.”

You bury your face in his chest, arms looped around his neck, inhaling what you’ve longed for for years. There’s nothing else like his warmth. You’ve passionately love it for years, and being stripped of your 

“I feel like I’m dreaming,” you muffle.

You can feel your heartbeat restless against his. It’s as if they’re both catching up with one another, just as you and Jihoon are intimately doing now. All the time you spent married to someone you didn’t love in the slightest, worried about what your parents wanted for you, worried what they’d do to the people you love, what they’d do to Jihoon. All those years wasted when you could’ve been here, simply his. If you had each other, just as you both promised, perhaps there would be more nights like this.

“Me too,” He admits. “I don’t think I ever stopped loving you.”

You pull away from his chest to face him, tears blurring your vision as you clasp your hands on his face. “I know I never stopped loving you. I thought of you every day when I knew I never had the right to.”

He strokes your sides, bewitched by your sincerity, and he embraces you. “We were twenty, you were listening to your parents—”

“And at twenty years old, I was still wise enough to know a good man and have a heart when I see one. I could never make it up to you, but just know you’re never getting rid of me, Lee Jihoon.”

He wistfully smiles. “Is this a life sentence?”

“And an afterlife one.”

Your lips crash against his, melting into him before losing yourselves in one another, losing yourselves into the heat of your reunion before you’re overtaken by the night and fall deep asleep in his embrace. Unlike you, however, Jihoon can’t sleep, fearing that the moment he closes his eyes, he’ll be the one left alone. He’s dreamt of nights where he’s holding as close as he is now, breathing in your essence, savoring your skin, basking in your warmth. And the dreams are cruel the moment he opens his eyes and realizes you were a figment of his deepest desires. Experiencing it in person is better than anything his consciousness could come up with.

He moves your hair away from your face, letting his fingertips ghost over the curve of your cheek, and tenderly smiles down at you. Holding his breath, he feels you stir, that saccharine tone of voice ebbing in mumbles as you press closer against him, tucking your legs between his.

He feels as if he can stare at you for hours, relearning the rhythm of your breath, the number of strands of your lashes, creases of your lips. He does not want to miss a single thing. If he is going to have you, it’ll be all of you. If not, then he’d let himself be all yours. He hopes at least you can give him that much. Especially when he’s missed several years of your lives together.

Before he knows it, morning arrives as the sun rises higher in the sky, peeking through the small division of the bedroom curtain, and Jihoon realizes he didn’t sleep a wink. Yet, he does not mind it one bit. And when your eyes pry open to see him still holding you, his smile stamped on your forehead, that it had been all worth it to hear you greet him with sweet words and your lips that taste even better than he last had them several hours ago. It truly feels unreal still.

But now it’s morning, and that means he is to take care of you like he promised himself he’d do if you ever reunited, so he jumps out of bed to make breakfast. Your tired expression chuckles as he enthusiastically asks you over his shoulder what ingredients you had in your fridge. He’s never and has never been much of a cook, but for you, he is willing to put in the effort. 

“You never really learned what to put in an omelet, did you?” You tease, seeing him toss sliced cucumbers, diced ham, and cottage cheese in his egg batter.

He shrugs, softly pouting as he tugs you towards to join his side. “I can’t make it as good as you. Sue me.”

“How did you go on living without me?”

The corner of his lips softly jerks up. “I’m wondering the same thing.”

You pull him towards you by his waist, letting your hands glide over his exposed back and settling on his shoulder blades. You inhale the natural aroma of his body, inhaling him and remembering every second of the night you shared. Your memories of intimacy with Jihoon haunted your present day, but images of last night make you feel as if you could finally breathe. “Well, stop wondering. I’ll eat your weird omelets and burnt toast. Just never leave me.”

He strokes the back of your head, fingers threading in your hair. “I should be the one saying that to you, Angel.”

Your smile grazes his skin and your grip on him tightens. “I can’t believe I’m hearing that name again after so long. Now it really doesn’t feel real.”

“Then we can stay in dreamland forever,” He hums, slotting your lips between his with the tilt of your chin.

His arms border either of your sides, pressing you against the counter, parting his mouth wider as his moan vibrates against your lips. Like always, his kisses start sweet before they’re hungry, feverish to taste every inch of you. You feel him lift you from the ground, planting your bare thighs on your cool marble counter as he settles between your legs, hands moving towards the festering, wet heat between them.

“Now I’m feeling like dessert for breakfast first.”

Beneath the shirt that you stole from him to wear is nothing but your vulnerability, coated in the slickness that he remembers was heaven on his tongue, yet sinfully addictive at a mere whiff. He pulls up the hem of the shirt, letting it meet your lips whispering, “Bite it,” before watching you claim it between your teeth.

There, he smooths his hands over your thighs, kissing and tasting the skin before his plush lips aim for your burning core. His eyes shoot up at you before dipping his tongue, letting it run up along your slit before sucking against your folds. You clench your raised hands, shielding the lower half of your face as the sound of his endeavor invades your ears, blood rushing towards you rapidly and fiercely. 

“H-hoon…”

He pulls you closer towards him, his moans vibrating against your skin and his tongue slithering inside you as it massages your walls. Meanwhile, the pads of his finger rubbing against your swollen bud, swirling your arousal in circles, the intoxicating scent wafting into his nose before he delves deeper. “I’ve missed this so badly. You have no idea.”

“You’re gonna make a mess,” you blurt out in a moan.

“Get used to it for the rest of our lives,” he mumbles, hungrily devouring you with no remorse.

You feel closer to reaching the peak so fast, your whole body going up in flames until the very last second, and his name is all either of you hear. He still remembers all the right spots, effortlessly bringing you to the tears streaking your cheeks.

Before the moment can last a second longer, your attention is ripped away by the doorbell. Your head falls on his shoulder, hands clinging to his forearms. You groan, bringing you back to reality. “You have to hide.”

He tilts his head with a straight face, sighing. Standing upright, he cups your face to meet his gaze, the warmth of your cheeks so inviting and sees you clasp your hands over his in response. “Am I now the secret lover that has to hide my passion for the woman I love from the world?” he asks dryly, earning him a soft whine.

“It could be him, or worse, my parents. So, to not complicate things any further,” You drag your hands over his bare chest, letting the ripple of muscles stiffen against your palm, instilling your gaze with mischief. “You’re my dirty little secret until the divorce papers are processed. After that, it's you, me, and the end of time.”

He softly scoffs before pressing a chaste kiss on your lips with a smile. “Please get decent. No matter how good you look in my clothes, it’d be best not to look like you just stepped out of my wet dreams for whoever is at the door.”

You grasp at the cotton, enjoying his lingering scent that you hope never goes away. “So, you still dream about me.”

“Angel.”

“Alright, alright.” You interlock your fingers through his before hopping off the counter and returning to the ground. “Help me pick something out?”

You tug him upstairs to your bedroom, giggling like teenagers and trying to get you ready as efficiently as possible with Jihoon’s lips attached to your neck. From last night up until this morning, it’s been nothing short of thrilling. Had the doorbell not rang, you would’ve returned the favor and continued what he started. You couldn’t see how the rest of the day could go wrong. Even if it were your soon to be ex or your parents, you didn’t think they could take away the smile permanently tattooed on your face. You just couldn’t wait to get back to him.

But for now, this can wait. You have all the time in the world to rekindle the flame that had exploded in your bedroom. For the time being, he has to stay hidden, and the first place you think of is your walk-in closet that’s more than enough space for him to hide. And after choosing something decent to wear, you leave him with a peck on the cheek before descending towards the front door doorbell sounds again, hearing whoever is on the other side evidently impatient. As you swing the door open, you mentally strategize for whoever is on the end, but nothing—no amount of courage or time could have prepared you for this.

“Officers, good morning. How can I help you?” The pads of your fingers are pressed against the door, your bottom lip caught between your teeth, and your breath seizes just at the entrance of your mouth.

They ask for your name and your relationship with that man you’ve been trying to sever ties with for the last several weeks—or admittedly, several years. You blink back at them, heart picking up pace as you clutch your blouse. “Has something happened?”

“Your husband, Boo Hyunkwan, was found murdered in his complex today.”

Your eyes shoot open, skin running cold at the break of the news, and you expel a breath of disbelief. “What…? I don’t understand.”

“I’m sure this is shocking news, however, Miss, we are arresting you for the suspected murder of Boo Hyunkwan. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.”

“Wait–” You’re trembling as you’re put in handcuffs, feeling the cold metal snap and squeeze around your wrists as your panic sets in. 

Your head oscillates from one officer to the other, pleading in your eyes as you insist that this is a mistake, asking how this was sanctioned. Then, your main concern dawns on you, and now all that you can think about is the man you left hidden in your closet. You suppress the instinct to call for him, letting his name die on your tongue as you tuck away in the police car.

You had just reunited, and now you’re getting taken away again. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. Not now. Not like this.

Jihoon. Help. 

The man in question has always respected your wishes, but his curiosity got the best of him, blaming it on the years spent away from each other. He just had to see that you’re okay, maybe get ready to break out in a sprint if the situation calls for it. Careful to not to get caught, he undercuts through the big windows looking out towards the front lawn, peering just over the windowsill enough from your bedroom window to make out the scene outside when sees flashing red and blue lights.

Standing pin straight, his hands plants against the window, watching the scene before him unfold without a say otherwise. Eyes glued to your restrained posture shoved in the backseat of the cop car, and it reeves its engine before leaving your driveway. The man still in hiding could only grit his teeth as your name burns and swells his throat shut, breathing no longer an option.

Not that he has many options at this point.

After meeting your parents and after the engagement…

“That couldn’t have gone worse.” Jihoon loosens his tie, but he’s unable to rid himself of the tightness around his throat.

You fall on the couch beside him, a soft gaze directed at him as you smooth out his collar. “It wasn’t that bad. You were perfect, my parents—”

“Were looking after their precious only daughter. As would I.” Jihoon holds your face in his palms, feeling the heat fester as he brushes his thumbs over the plane of your cheeks. “I would protect this Angel too.”

You clasp your hands over his, your scowl only deepening as you take them in your hands. “They still shouldn’t have treated you like that. They’re a reflection of me. What does that say about me?”

He presses a soft kiss against the tip of your nose, feeling your grip on him tighten. “You’re a product of nature, not nurture. It’s your nature to be beautiful inside and out, Angel.”

“What did I do in my life to deserve you?” You coo, throwing your arms around his torso and pressing your ear to his chest, his heartbeat resonating louder by the second.

It’s soothing. The purest form of truth that not anyone could deny. You don’t need to hear a single song if it means giving up this sound and the body that contains it. But his kind words, the words to match the rhythm of his restless heartbeat. One is not one without the other. Just like you are not yourself without Jihoon.

“Love me. So don’t stop now.”

You let out soft gasp, clinging tighter as warmth fans throughout your body. It’s clear as day. You couldn’t imagine a world with him, not a world where you aren’t miserable. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jihoon has already been nervous about meeting your parents, but having met them just confirms his suspicions. You’re the heir to an empire, while Jihoon’s family is nothing remarkable. He had a good family, a decent home life, but almost nothing to his name. He was painfully ordinary with the passion of being a lawyer, but the passion didn’t make him one. After all, he wasn’t on the path of many currently successful lawyers that paid thousands for their education.

Despite it all, Jihoon knows that he has a future with you in it. For the time being, Jihoon is determined to see it through.

“I assume you know why you’re here, young man.”

The sternness in the older woman makes Jihoon’s blood run cold, even with the hot tea that was provided for him. He knows what this is. He’s watched enough television to understand this is the inevitable meeting that he is destined to face. 

“You wanted to discuss your daughter.”

She scoffs, emphasizing her smile lines. She crosses her arms, leaning against her chair before bringing the tea cup to her lips. Now the sudden fear of liquid—or in this case, scorching hot tea—dawns on him. He hopes that this is something you just see in film, and he won’t have to suffer from second degree burns from a soap opera cliche. “I suppose you aren’t daft, perhaps that’s why she likes you so much, but clearly still not smart enough to realize you are not suited for her.”

Jihoon bows his head, the thought of meeting her eyes bringing an irrational amount of fear he never realized he could garner. He tries to swallow it, but it only ends up clogging the words of bravery that he had practiced so many times to win your parents over.

“If you care about her, you’ll walk away. She has a future bigger than this.”

She doesn’t stop for his response and instead throws a thick envelope on the table, the kind you see on multiple cliche dramas with an amount that could change his and his family’s life if he accepts it. An offer he can not dare to refuse. 

“$500,000. Should pay your student loans and all of your tuition. Plenty left over for your family.”

Jihoon clenches his fist, biting his bottom lip until he tastes iron. All for you. All for their one and only daughter. They need him out of your life so badly that this money is nothing to them but a hunk of change they can throw to get exactly that. “I can’t accept this.”

“So much pride with so little to show for it.” She stands from her seat, looming over him coldly. “She is arranged to be married. Someone of equal status. You’d understand, Jihan, is it?”

His thoughts are running amok in his head, bouncing off every corner of mind and rippling waves of ache every passing second. Yet, not one of them revealed themselves in front of the woman before him. Cowardice comes naturally in this circumstance, but Jihoon never thought he’d be a victim of it.

“No matter,” she continues, “Break it off as clean as possible. Or better yet, make it hurt, so that she won’t come running back. This will be good for the both of you.”

Jihoon knows that is the last thing he needs to hear. He knows you don’t think this way. You never gave implications you do, but he can’t help but wonder if your mother is right. Maybe what your parents are offering is better. He couldn’t possibly match up their standards, your standards that you grew up with. What can he offer you that a family with generations of fortune can’t? He has no idea.

Maybe…he shouldn’t hold you back. Maybe this arrangement is what you really need and deserve. If he truly loves you, letting you go would perhaps be the last biggest sacrifice he can make for you. 

So, he coordinates a date, what he assumes would be your final date. He’d take you to somewhere private, in the nicest place he can afford, and buy you your favorite meal with the money he’s saved up from working his part time job. He’ll give you your happiest day before breaking your heart and the news that you can’t be together. He at least has to give you that.

But you beat him to the punch.

“I know what this is.”

He grimaced, looking up from his dinner, feigning innocence. “What do you mean?”

Your eyes stare through him, piercing, ebbing beads of sweat down his forehead even when he tries avoiding your eyes. “I know you met with my mother.”

“Angel–”

“I’m not giving up, Jihoon.” You twist the plain gold ring on your finger, thumbing over the band. “I love you too much.”

He desperately wants to trust you, to believe in the words you speak, just as he always has. But doubt gnaws at him, fueled by mounting evidence and a gut feeling he can't ignore. The stakes are too high, the consequences too dire to rely solely on blind faith. In his most vulnerable moments, when fear and uncertainty cloud his judgment, it feels as though your love alone isn't enough to withstand the inevitable.

Present day…

Jihoon charges into the police station, haphazardly dressed in yesterday’s clothes with his shirt untucked and buttoned up until the first two top buttons. Everyone present in the room looks towards him momentarily before turning their eyes back to their current task as if it’s an ordinary occurrence. Meanwhile, the man fueled by panic staggers over to the front desk, running his hand frantically through his hair as he tries settling his nerves to garner the right words.

“I-I’m looking for someone,” he stammers, eyes bulging out of his head and brimming with tears. “She just detained. Her name—“ 

Before he can complete his inquiry, his phone goes off, only heightening the stress he’s experiencing. Barely mustering the motor skills to retrieve it from his pocket, he glances at the caller ID that immediately grabs his attention. His gaze flickers back at the officer for a moment before he’s fixated on his phone. “I’ll be right back.”

He scurries over to his car, accepts the car, and presses it to his ear. “Hello?”

“J-Jihoon.”

The quiver in your voice brings him to tears. He tries to keep his composure as their warmth streams down his cheeks. “Hey, hey. Are you okay?”

"They said I could call a lawyer.”

He chuckles softly at your flawed reasoning. "I’m a divorce lawyer, my love."

“Even if you weren’t a lawyer, you were the first person I wanted to talk to.”

His heart aches, clutching his phone as he swallows back his trepidation. “What happened?”

“Hyunkwan. H-he’s dead.”

Jihoon tightly shut his eyes, unsure if he heard currently with how disorienting this whole circumstance is. “Hyunkwan…your husband.”

“T-they found him murdered at home, dead for a couple of days according to autopsies.”

Jihoon sighs coming to realization. “The police suspect you have something to do with it.”

“Yes.” You say voice cracking on the other side. He hears the rustling of your clothes, with the undertone of your whimpers barely making it through on the call. “They think I…I’m sorry to be taking business away from you after all the work you’ve done and hours you’ve put in.”

“Never mind that now. Just remember you didn’t do this. You stick to that. Don’t let them bully you into saying anything else but that.”

“But I didn’t do this,” You insist through your sobs. “I really didn’t.”

He frowns, clutching his chest as he leans his forehead against the front passenger door. “I know. I know you didn’t. Just stick to this, okay?”

“Okay…I just got you back. Why is it I have to fight for you all over again?” You softly whine.

His hand presses flat against his car window, steadying himself. “Once I get you alone again, I’ll let you do absolutely everything to make up for lost time.”

“Hoon…”

“Wait for me, I'll get you, Angel.” 

The second the call ends, Jihoon walks back into that building with a newfound confidence and looks straight into the officer he spoke with before. “Pardon me, urgent call. I’m here to represent my client.”

In the interrogation room, Jihoon has never been more concerned than he is at that very moment. Even disheveled, you look as beautiful as you did this morning when you woke up together with your tear streaked cheeks and red swollen eyes. He wants to do nothing but take you in his arms, kissing the stress away from your body and distract you with long languid kisses until you’re breathless and he’s the only thing on your mind.

But against his wishes, Jihoon keeps it together, trying to remember anything helpful he learned in criminology to help you with your situation.

After a long 72 hours of interrogation and containment, due to lack of evidence, Jihoon has you released. Now, he watches you in his peripheral view as you sit stiff in the front passenger seat, staring off in the distance, unsure whether there was nothing or a multitude of things on your mind. 

The car's interior was thick with silence, punctuated only by the soft hum of the engine and the rhythmic thrum of tires against asphalt. Jihoon's gaze flickers repeatedly towards you, his brow furrowed with concern. Your rigid posture and the vacant stare in your eyes boring into the road, painting a picture of inner turmoil that words couldn't quite capture.

He racks his brain, desperately searching for the right words to break the silence, to dissipate the awkward tension that thickened the air. But what can he say? How can he possibly understand the maelstrom of emotions you were undoubtedly experiencing?

It’s been nothing less than a harrowing ordeal of relentless onslaught of accusations, interrogations, and the suffocating confines of a cold, sterile cell. And now, despite the nightmare having come to an end, the dark memory still clings to you, its icy fingers refusing to release their grip.

Jihoon's heart aches in your presence. He longs to reach out, to offer comfort and reassurance, but he fears that any attempt at consolation would only serve to further expose his own helplessness in the face of your trauma. He’s acutely aware that his presence, while a source of safety and security, is no medicine for the bundle of nerves that festers like a million ants in your stomach.

Jihoon's grip on the steering wheel tightens as he struggles to maintain his composure, while the silence stretches on. Each passing second amplifies the palpable tension that strangles his neck, suffocating his being. The once familiar surroundings of the car now felt alien and depressing, the silence a deafening roar that drowned out all rational thought.

“We’re almost home, Angel—”

“He’s gone, Jihoon. He was here, and now he’s gone.”

Jihoon retreats to the silence that once held him hostage, accepting there are no words in the universe that could give you the solace you need right now.

“Sick bastard,” You hiss. Putting your fingers to your lips, you succumb to the habit of biting your nails. The habit that you put a lot of effort into getting rid of, apparently only done in vain. “Even in death, he finds a way to take me down with him.”

“You and Hyunkwan…”

“It was business,” you clear up before taking a beat. “Mostly.”

Mostly.

“I see,” Jihoon responds, keeping a neutral tone, while in his head, he’s running a hundred miles per hour imagining you with a man that isn’t him.

You swallow a lump in your throat, lightly clawing at his leather seats. “We were in the same boat. Two kids forced together by their families because of an agreement made so, so long ago. We got along for a little bit, the only reason why it lasted so long, and then we tried to make it work. At least for the beginning of the second year, but old habits die hard, and he couldn’t give up his playboy lifestyle. Then there was me, who never stopped loving you.”

His chest tightens, each breath a struggle as your confession reverberates through him. Every word, a searing touch against his soul, burns its way into his brain. He feels the weight of your admission pressing down on him. His heart pounds a frantic rhythm against his ribs, its wild beat echoing and taking root in every wrinkle of his brain.

“So he went back to partying, and I spent the following several years alone, surveillanced, controlled, and the person I married couldn’t care any less about me, but that’s fine because the person that really mattered was safe.”

Jihoon readjusts his grip on the wheel, gritting his teeth at the thought of your solitude. He had hoped that you’d find some peace in the unavoidable obligation, but knowing that you suffered in silence is worse than knowing you had attempted to build a romantic relationship with your husband. At least with the latter, you would have some semblance of joy.

“Safe? Angel—”

“Hoon, stay with me for the time being.” You grip an of of his with reach, your eyes glossed in your desperate tears, your cracking voice tearing piece by piece. “I don’t want to live alone in that house.”

“You don’t have to. What about the place you’ve been staying now?”

You shake your head with a deep scowl. “My parents found out about me living there and changed the key code. I’m locked out, but they’ve sent my things to my legal residence. It’s the only place I can stay.”

“How can they still be—after hearing their son-in-law has passed?”

You roll your eyes, obviously used to their aggressive and shameless tactics to get exactly what they want. Just as they always have. “They want to keep the ties to the Boos as long as they can. They can’t do that by being estranged. They’re already furious enough that I’ve been living somewhere else.”

Dilemma becomes a lingering companion, making the lawyer question and challenge every selfish thought and desire to stay by your side when it combats with his logic that dares keep you at a distance. “Wouldn’t it be strange for me to stay there?”

“I need you. I can just tell anyone who asks that my lawyer and I are working closely on this case. I’ll say anything I have to to keep you by my side, Hoon.”

Jihoon's breath hitches as he shifts the car into park, his eyes drinking in the grandeur of your house. It was far larger than anything he had ever imagined, a sprawling testament to a life he felt utterly removed from. A wave of insecurity washes over him, the stark contrast between his own modest upbringing and the opulence before him serving as a harsh reminder of the vast sea that divides your worlds.

He swallows hard, his heart pounding against his ribs as he turns to face you. Despite the trepidation that gnawed at him, his love for you is and has always been unwavering. Reaching out, he pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you like a lifeline. "Then I'll stay by your side," he murmurs in your hair, pressing his lips against the side of your head as he feels you reciprocate.

Amidst the uncertainty and the fear, Jihoon makes a solemn vow to himself. No matter the challenges that might arise, he will remain steadfast. He will not falter, no matter the trials and tribulations that lay ahead. With unwavering determination, he pledges to devote every waking moment to fighting tirelessly for your case, and to ensure that you remain by his side. No matter how many mornings and nights it takes, he’ll keep at it relentlessly until you see the light at the end of the tunnel.

After the break up, before the wedding…

Jihoon had been single for his entire life, a lonely existence that spanned twenty years. That was until he met you, an impossibly enchanting presence who immediately bewitched him at a mere glance. The way you love was generous, addictive. Something that would make a man go mad. His life was irrevocably altered from that moment; he couldn't envision a future without you by his side.

The day your relationship ended was a paradox of emotions, as if his heartbreak and logic were at combat. That day had to have been the worst day of his life. It was as if your absence left a gaping hole that made him feel like only a shell of his former self. He was worse than before he had met you. Then he was antisocial, and now he didn’t want to look at another person for as long as he lived. If it were within his power, he would erase it from his mind entirely, but the pain of losing the love of his life was an indelible scar, a torment he wouldn't wish upon even his most hated enemy.

"Long time no see.”

You stand bashfully beneath the sprawling branches of the grand oak tree that dominated the center of the campus park. The same park where you both make a recurring date spot since you insisted on him getting some vitamin D on the especially sunny days, the sacred ground where Jihoon had professed his undying love and asked for your hand in marriage. The last happy memory you had together before it all went to shit.

His head lifts abruptly, drawn away from the pages of the book he'd been staring at without truly reading. The words had blurred into meaninglessness after you'd walked out of his life. His gaze locks onto yours, and for a moment, time stands still, disbelief warring with a glint of hope in his eyes. You offered him a bittersweet smile, the curve of your lips swelling the organ that put him at ruin countless times before gracefully settling onto the grass beside him, the shade blanketing over your presence like the gray gloomy cloud did him.

"Hi," he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're...you're talking to me."

"That I am," you confirm, your voice gentle and warm.

His brow furrows, and the hope melts off his face, turning the corners of his lips down. "I don't know if your parents, or your...fiance," he says, emphasizing the word that has his voice thick with distaste, "would like that."

The corners of your mouth turn down in a sad smile. and you draw your knees up to your chest, resting your head against them. "No, they wouldn't, but I don't care."

"Maybe you should.” His voice laced with a chilling indifference as he turns his attention back to the dense textbook that lay open in his lap, his focus appearing unwavering.

The sting of his snide remark makes your heart feel as if it’s being crushed, mangled by a hand until it’s deduced to nothing. Nonetheless, you push the ache down, forcing a casual, eased tone. "Funny. It's only been a month, but it feels like an eternity."

He merely hums in response, feigning disinterest while his every nerve thrums at  the knowledge of your existence that makes concentration feel like combat against a formidable opponent.

"I'm done avoiding you," you declare, your voice firm.

His fingers pause their rhythmic flipping of pages, his lips twisting into a nervous line, his eyes still fixed on the pages. "Really?"

"Really.”

A flicker of something akin to intrigue passed over his features before disappearing in a split second, replaced by a stone face. "...That's nice to hear," he replies, his voice measured, guarded.

Silence hangs in the air for a moment before you break it, hoping to lighten the atmosphere. "So, what are you studying?"

"Forensic science," he bluntly answers, his voice devoid of any inflection. "The scientific methods used to investigate and examine evidence."

Your lips pucker in  feigned curiosity, looking to prolong this encounter no matter how cold he makes himself to be. "How's it going?" 

He lets out a sigh, the sound heavy with frustration. His eyes seemed to blur the images in front of him as if the words on the page were swimming before his eyes. "Like my brain developed a severe intolerance for new information.”

A soft chuckle escapes your lips as your gaze lingers on him, his frustration evident in the way he’s now violently flipping through the pages. You took a moment to etch his features into your memory, wanting to remember every detail of how he looks now, what will  one day be a passing image that you’d never get to see again. "Too bad you're pursuing criminal law, huh? Any chance you might become a divorce lawyer and take my case one day when it comes?"

Jihoon scoffs softly, his gaze falling to his feet as he goes silent for a moment. That thought has crossed his mind countless times since you had reluctantly agreed to your parents' arranged marriage. Though his expression remains stoic, his words reveal the truth you both had tried so hard to ignore. "In a heartbeat," he grips the book tightly, as if the act would get rid of the ache in his chest. "You know I would."

Your heart hammers in your chest, the determination in his eyes almost overwhelming as he glances at you from the corner of his eye. "Don't," you choke out, shaking your head. "I would never want to take that away from you. Your whole life is centered around being a criminal justice lawyer."

"And you," he lifts his gaze from his lap to meet your eyes with tears that threaten to spill. His hand twitches with the urge to wipe them away. "Criminal justice and you. Angel."

You know there's nothing he wouldn't do for you. And that's what terrifies you. The extent of his sacrifices knows no bounds. He's unconditionally devoted to you in a way that’s almost suffocating, but to be smothered in that love is an end you don’t mind meeting. Jihoon has always considered himself a logical man, but from the moment you met, he's become the epitome of a romantic. "I love you more than anything in the world," you remind, "but don't. Please."

He sighs, his attention returning to his book, his fingers flipping the pages. "I won't," he assures you, "if it means that much."

Except, that is what he fully plans to do.

Present day, a week after the release…

“Hoon?”

Jihoon, his glasses slightly askew, glances up from the cluttered desk, a warm smile gracing his lips as he sees you standing in the doorway. His fingers pause their rhythmic dance across the keyboard, the soft click-clack momentarily silenced as he greets you. "You're home.”

You scan over his workspace he’s made for himself in an empty office of your home, unable to ignore the neverending mountain of documents. "You're still here working on my case?" 

A soft smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he plucks off his glasses, his eyes holding yours an unwavering confidence. "Of course. My clients always get the best service."

Your brow furrows slightly. "You haven't been going into your office," you point out. "Won't that be a problem?"

"I've transferred any ongoing cases I had to other recommended lawyers in the area," he reassures, fingering through stacks on stacks of paperwork. "They'll be helping them. Don't worry about me."

“How can I? You’re losing work because of me. Plus, you’re a divorce lawyer. Is this even allowed?”

He pauses, his gaze softening at your concern painted over your features. "You and I both know I am well versed in criminal law just as much as I am in family law. I majored in criminal justice, remember?”

Your eyes narrow back at him as you cross your arms. “Yes, and you went against me and became a divorce lawyer.”

He grins a little too hard, like a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar. “It brought you to me, didn’t it? And as for losing work. it's a small price to pay to make sure you get the justice you deserve."

"Isn't this a lot for you to take on? You must have other responsibilities, work, errands..."

His eyes lock onto yours, unwavering and steady. He points at you domineeringly with the pen in his hand as if you’re about to be lectured for being tardy to class. "You're facing a trial for a murder you didn't commit. You shouldn't be wasting your energy worrying about me."

"Hoon—" 

"I won't let them take you away from me a third time.” His preservation only grows stronger with your concern, heart heavy as he replays the image of you put in handcuffs, actively getting taken away from him.

"Still, you can't put yourself through all of this just for me.”

"Why not?" His voice rises slightly, kindling a fiery path down his throat. "You didn't do this, and I'm not going to just stand by and twiddle my fingers. Everything we’ve rebuilt, it’ll all come crashing down. Again."

"It won't.” You shake your head with unwavering resolve before you reach his side and gently tug his arm. "I won't let it."

His expression softens, but it does not deter his persistence. "Then let me double my efforts to help you." 

“But—" He silences you with a look, his eyes pleading desperately as the air around you wraps around your throat and squeezes it shut.

He gently places the pen on the table, his hand moving to cup the side of your face. His gaze holds yours, filled with a longing that betrays the initial confidence his words carried. His lips tremble slightly, a reminder of the fear that’s taken over that past week as he inches closer towards you.

"It may be hard to believe, but," he whispers, his voice husky as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes hover over your parted mouth, his face drawing closer until your breaths mingle in the space between you, "talking to you through a glass partition and dressed in orange is not nearly as fun as it sounds. Please, Angel," he takes you in both his hands, forcing your gaze on him as your hips meet in desperate pleas, "let me help you."

“Jihoon-” His lips capture yours, clutching you against him as your hands settle over his waist, succumbing to an insatiable lip-lock, burying your mixed bag of emotions as he presses you against the edge of his desk.

He parts from you in heavy breaths before you propel over to reclaim him, the hunger overtaking your logic as you fill your mind with Jihoon and him only. Your ferocity drowns out the softness of his tenor voice as your hands fiddle over his button-down, undoing each one in a hurried pattern before his hands clasp over yours in a forced halt, pushing them down. 

Your lips part softly, the air between you heavy with insatiable desire. The intensity in his gaze deepens, a lustful darkness swirling within that reflects your own yearning. You find his presence intoxicating, a high that won’t come down, and he reminds you how easily he can have you succumb to his every whim. It's as if he's peering into your very soul, igniting a fire within you that is not only tempting but threatens to consume you both. He realizes that he needs to be the one in control to prevent that from happening. Especially considering the hunger he fears is already fueling you and threatens his clarity.

“Don’t try distracting me,” he half-jokingly says, his hands tracing the sides of your torso, betraying his conviction. “You know I can’t resist you.”

You snicker, your bottom lip being pulled through your teeth as you throw your arms around his neck, drawing his presence dangerously closer. “Yeah, you can’t.”

“Angel,” he gently warns, breath hitching in his throat as your touch trails down the exposed plane of his chest as it heaves, while the hairs on his neck stand stiff, his lust talking over his reasoning.

“Knock off all the papers off your desk like you want to, Hoon,” your lips ghost over one another, daring another kiss to get lost in. “Don’t you remember? That fantasy of yours where we lose ourselves in each other? You wanna ruin this desk with me?”

“You…” His smug smile grazes your lips as he borders you with his arms, pushing you into a locked cage of his fervent heat that sends your aroused state ablaze. A sweet moan leaves your lips as his thigh parts your legs as it takes residence against your clothed core. “Just don’t know when to quit, don't you?”

Before the moment escalates any further, the familiar sound of the doorbell rings throughout the house, eliciting a frustrated groan from the man in front of you as he clings to your frame. “We need a sign or a scarecrow or something if we keep getting interrupted like this.” He chastely kisses the giggles off your lips. “I’ll get it—but after, no more distracting me.”

Your eyes widen in clear offense before you playfully shove him away. "You kissed me!" you loudly reminded, your head double taking in the incredulity. "And why would you open the door? It's my house."

"Consider it a trauma response," he answers dryly as his fingers gently brush against the back of your head, watching the endearing pout swell your kiss-swollen lips. “I won't take long. Just follow behind me if you're worried."

You huff, crossing your arms and sounding out in a firm and resolute tone, "I was going to do that anyway."

"I knew you would,” he says with a knowing smile.

Jihoon's footsteps trickle down the steps as he follows the incessant ringing of the doorbell, echoing through the house with an urgency that intensifies his irritability. Before he can reach the door, it swings open, revealing a figure who rushes in, nearly colliding with Jihoon in their haste.

"Um, hello?" Jihoon stammers, taken aback by the intrusion.

The individual doesn’t bother acknowledging the man that welcomes him, his eyes frantically scanning the room. "Where is she?" His gaze darts from one corner to another before finally landing on you.

"Seungkwan?" 

Seungkwan's face softens as he sees you. He rushes towards you, pulling you into a tight embrace, his chin resting in the crook of your neck. "Oh my god," he mumbles into your skin, "You have no idea how worried I was."

Jihoon steps back, standing frozen as his fists clenched tightly at his sides, watching the scene unfold before him. Like a knife twisting in his gut, he’s unable to ignore the intimacy of your skinship. The way you lean into the newcomer's touch, how familiar it all is to you. You might as well send a sharp slap to his face.

He prides himself on his self-control, his ability to maintain a stoic facade even in the face of adversity—crucial for a lawyer. But at this moment, he feels powerless, his confidence depleting. He wants nothing more than to stride forward, to pull you away from the stranger's embrace and make it known that only he has the privilege to greet you so warmly. But he can't. He shouldn’t. Instead, he tucks away his jealousy and pride, maintaining a pretense of civility in front of the person who looks at home in your arms.

You gently release yourself from his embrace and place him at your side, his gaze oozing with concern. "It's okay, for now," you reassure him, "but you almost hurt my guest."

Seungkwan's expression shifts to realization as he turns to Jihoon. "My apologies," he extends his hand for a handshake. Jihoon accepts, noting the firmness of his grip which he returns just as boldly. The other man doesn’t waver, only conjuring a polite smile, one Jihoon is all too familiar with in his line of work. "I am her legal guardian."

You roll your eyes. “No, he’s not.”

The young man sulks and childishly pulls at your sleeve with doe eyes, “Yes, I am. After my brother's death, I might as well be.” He clings to you like a fly in a sticky trap. “I booked the earliest flight right after my business meeting and got here as soon as I could. I'm here now.”

You gently push him away again and rest your hands on his shoulders. “I'm an adult. I’m my own guardian.” You glance at the lawyer, hands tied as he witnesses the scene, and you’re suddenly overtaken by a sense of guilt. “Jihoon, this is my brother-in-law, Seungkwan. Seungkwan, this is Jihoon, my…lawyer for the time being. He's staying at the house so we can work closely on the case and get the whole picture.”

Your hesitation to define Jihoon’s presence is clear, but amidst the chaotic rally, it goes unnoticed by the newcomer. He inserts himself between you and Jihoon, acting as a barrier.

"Thank you for taking on her case with such short notice." Seungkwan takes your hand in his, stroking the back with his thumb and staring back at you with an immeasurable warmth as he interlaces your fingers. Meanwhile, Jihoon feels a surge of possessiveness as his gaze lingers on your intertwined fingers, maleficence passing over his eyes as he thinks of the limitless ways he can pry Seungkwan’s fingers off you before snapping every ligament.

"Of course," the lawyer responds calmly, maintaining a stoic composure despite his clenched jaw. "Just doing my job."

“Sweetheart…” Seungkwan's voice drips with a luscious honey as he nuzzles his head against your shoulder, his boyish face etched with a charmingly innocent grin. "Let big brother make all your worries disappear," he coos, gently guiding you towards the staircase, his hand resting possessively on the small of your back. Jihoon, observing the scene from across the room, feels a flicker of irritation twitching at the corner of his eye.

"Kwan, I'm older than you. What 'big brother' are you talking about?" You cast an apologetic glance over your shoulder at the lawyer standing alone in the corner. Seungkwan pouts playfully, his hand descending your lower back, and Jihoon gets closer to resort to violence.

“Well, for the time being, I’m big brother, so anything you need, I can do. Don’t worry your little head over anything.”

Jihoon's body moves mechanically, slowly trailing behind the chattering duo before the door to your bedroom clicks shut. The silence of the room presses down on him, bitterly reminding him of the loneliness he has briefly escaped. The familiar ache of rejection settles deep within him, a long-forgotten companion that he has grown accustomed to evading. There is nothing he can do to change the situation, not without causing more harm than good. 

With a heavy sigh, Jihoon turns his attention back to the office and returns to your case, channeling his restless energy into something productive. But even as he immerses himself, cataloging every detail, your image of you leaving returns. The vision of you disappearing from his sight, guided by another's touch, lingers in the back of his mind, and in turn, reopens the throbbing wound once sewed by you coming back in his life.

For the following month, Seungkwan doesn't leave your side, which gives Jihoon plenty of time to develop your case. However, Jihoon can't shake his unease about your brother-in-law. Seungkwan's constant affectionate gestures toward you—the loving gazes, lingering touches, and overly sweet words of affirmation—make Jihoon want to throw himself off a cliff. Or better yet the other man off one instead.

Seungkwan's presence, equivalent to an annoying pest, has made it nearly impossible for you and Jihoon to have any privacy. Not that you’ve tried anything while he’s in the house, both you and your lawyer/lover have you carefully hiding private messages, considering how close he can get to you at any given time. His unwavering presence feels insurmountable, leaving you and Jihoon with no choice but to roll with the punches.

“Sweetheart, let’s get dinner!”

You roll your eyes, barely looking up from your book. “Kwan, I know I’m not working now, but that doesn’t mean I can go out and goof around with you all the time.”

“Boo…that’s exactly what it means!”

You sigh as you gaze at the cracked door that leads to the private office on the same floor. Peering through, you catch a glimpse of Jihoon diligently shuffling through papers, his glasses perched on his nose in a way that makes you swoon.

“Let’s just order in, we can get something for Attorney Lee too. I’m worried he’s not getting any real meals in with all the time he’s putting into my case.”

Seungkwan nods gingerly, “Sure, what’ll you have?”

“One moment,” you scurry over to the door that stands in your way, pushing it open with a knock and alerting the man in the room. “Anything you’re craving? We’re getting lunch.”

The lawyer glances up at you above his frames, readjusting them to fit over his eyes. “Uh, anything. I’m not all that hungry.”

“You must want something.” You look at him expectantly, pressing your lips in a firm line as you scan his appearance, resisting the urge to tear his haphazardly worn dress shirt off him and devour him like a rabid animal. “It could be anything.”

He rests his arms on the desk, pursing his lips in thought. “If anything…I’d like to try your cooking. You’d seem like you have a colorful palette.”

You grin, narrowing your eyes at him in feigned annoyance as a hint of a smile graces his face. He turns back to his work, his teeth biting back a bigger smile.

“Well, I better get started then.”

Too distracted by the alluring dishevel of the man buried in paperwork, you don’t discern the eyes burning a hole in your back. The smile that would be a constant on Seungkwan’s face is visibly misplaced. When you return your attention to him, he quickly conjures one on the spot, acting as if nothing had changed at all.

“Kwan, how do you feel about kimchi fried rice? I’ve been meaning to make use of the kimchi taking space in the fridge.”

Seungkwan nods. “I’m down.” He stands up from the couch and strides towards you, putting his hands behind his back. “Sounds like you’re in need of a partner…a cooking partner that is.”

“That I am,” you nonchalantly agree, briefly shifting eyes back to Jihoon, “I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

“I look forward to it.”

You gleefully consume yourself with your culinary ventures, tasting and scavenging for all your ingredients and giddy that Jihoon requested it after being forced to hide your affinity for another. You aren’t used to the stiff wall he’s built; even starting as a client, he acted more familiar than this. But if you can show your love in any way possible, you’ll do it. 

Amidst your joy, Seungkwan busies himself by chopping the vegetables you’ve assigned him, glowering at your back turned toward him while you remain oblivious. You don’t notice how his eyes trail up your body, surveilling you like a hawk. Or him pressing his lips together in restraint when you bend over to pick up something you dropped. He only mutters under his breath, hardly audible with your soft humming that fills the room.

“Hey, Kwan, help me find the sugar. It vanished on me.”

He makes a semblance of a smile. “Sure.” 

As he pretends to scavenge for your targeted ingredient, he continues stalking your moves. He takes a sharp inhale when you brush past him, the comforting scent of your skin bringing him. He chuckles to himself, amused by your mounting frustration, savoring the soft grumbles under your breath. Finally, you’re met with triumph as you spot the elusive ingredient tucked away on a high shelf, hidden behind a bulky cabinet. “Found it!”

“Let me get that for you.”

Before you can make way for him, his body presses flush against your backside, and you can feel every detail on him you’ve made contact with. You let out a sharp gasp when he shifts against you closer. The feeling of his presence lingers long enough for you to process your emotions before his fingers grip the sugar jar and place it on the counter in front of you. “How did that get up there? You should put it within closer reach to avoid hurting yourself trying to get it.”

You hum, acknowledging his advice. As you turn to face him, you lock eyes, catching the hint of something in his eyes before he descends his gaze, cheeks undeniably red. Awkwardly, you force a cough and cast your attention to the lunch in progress. “Right. Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

That moment replays in your mind, leaving a disconcerting tension that hinders your movements. You are unable to stop yourself from fixating on two qualities of that encounter: the unfamiliar glint in his eyes that makes your stomach churn and the firm sensation you felt when he stood behind you. Despite your feelings, you brush the thought aside. Recalling all the past instances, you should be accustomed to his lack of personal space by now. Perhaps you’re misinterpreting what you think you felt, making excuses for him alone in your head. This could all become a big misunderstanding, and it’d be best to ignore all together to avoid trouble.

As you carefully arrange the lovingly prepared meal on the dining table, grinning to yourself with the placement before calling out to Jihoon. You’re surprised when he turns up almost instantly. "That was quick." Your lips turn up in a teasing smirk, raising an eyebrow. Considering the office is located all the way at the end of the first-floor hallway, it shouldn't be humanly possible to get to the dining room this quickly. 

“It…smelled good,” the lawyer bashfully pats his stomach, maintaining his aloof expression. “I got curious, so I couldn't wait. I needed to use the bathroom anyway, and this one was closer than the others.”

“Well, wait no further. Dig in, boys!”

Dinner is seemingly to some, but not others. Seungkwan, emboldened by the seating arrangement, has an idea pop into his head. Laden with unspoken intent, he picks up his own spoon, insisting on feeding you. He makes a thinly veiled excuse of having "too much meat" to eat alone, and every accepted bite makes the corner of his lips turn up higher.

Jihoon, on the other hand, quietly observes. He harnesses a mask of disinterest, but he can feel it crack under the pressure of the underlying tension at the dining table. Inconspicuously, his eyes dart up to survey the air between you and Seungkwan; brief but intense, each glance leaves him with more questions left to be answered. He finds it increasingly challenging to suppress his indignation amidst the seemingly amicable gestures, deflecting his attention to the clinking of utensils and drink glasses as he tries to ignore the incessant hum of their conversation.

He deliberately doesn’t mention the moment in the kitchen—the scene that had you and your brother in law too close for comfort. He doesn’t ask how it rendered you speechless, or confess how it ignited a silent fury within him, causing his hands to ball into fists and his jaw to clench. The tension in that scene stretched on, feeling interminable, until you managed an escape, ducking your head so low that Jihoon fails to catch your reaction, unable to determine your true sentiment. 

The lawyer had the unfortunate opportunity to witness the ‘unintentional’ embrace from behind you, and out of all the new memories he’s made, that is one he’d pay to burn to ash. He hates this feeling, this jealousy. This possessiveness consumes him like a famished beast tearing into its feast. Nothing would please him more than ridding himself of the intrusion, keeping you to himself for none of the world to see. Alas, he bites back the lechery, swallowing the lump along with a spoonful of fried rice.

“Jihoon.”

His attention captured by the sound of your voice, he looks back at you expectantly. "Yes?"

Your grin immediately softens his cold demeanor and loosens the grip he hadn't realized he had on his spoon.

“Are you going to give yourself any grace and momentarily take your eyes off work? I’m grateful for everything you’re doing, but I can’t help but be concerned for your well-being.”

Your formal vernacular twists the knife already sunken in his chest, and he can’t suppress the soft sigh of acceptance that makes past his lips. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t act so familiar with me. As your lawyer, there are boundaries we should breach. Thank you for your concern, but it’s superfluous to prolong it.”

“Hey!” Seungkwan finally addresses Jihoon after seeing the color drain from your face. “She was only being nice. You don’t have to act like an ass with your pretentious vocabulary.”

“Seungkwan!” you scold, turning his angry scrutiny away from the man opposite him with a slap on the back. “Calm down. He’s right,” you glance back at Jihoon, picking through his meal with disinterest, hiding the guilt that swallows up his appetite. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t help but feel guilty.”

“It’s alright.” He pushes up his frames. “Perhaps, I was harsh. I’m taking this case seriously, for your benefit. I assure you every minute counts.”

“I believe it. Still, you perform best in peak condition right?”

A hint of a smile touches his lips. “I suppose so.”

Seungkwan scoots closer to you, hugging your arm to his side, batting his eyelashes like butterflies fluttering in the wind. His hand falls in your hair, threading his fingers through tangled strands. He draws his lips close to your ear, speaking in a mellow yet effervescent tone that sends even the man opposite of him into shivers. “Let him do his job, sweetheart. It sounds like you’re in good hands. Just focus on laying low with me. I’m sure it’s what Hyunkwan would’ve wanted.”

You don’t have the fight to argue, and the argument ends as quickly as it began, leaving a bitter taste in its wake. It’s the most you and Jihoon had spoken since Seungkwan unexpectedly moved in. The overly affectionate newcomer has effectively blocked all advances either of you make, having this arrangement be a harrowing, sexually frustrating hell to say the least.

Jihoon knows intimacy is impossible under these circumstances, out of the question with the risk of being caught, but he underestimates Seungkwan and his tenacity. His meddlesome demeanor stands like a wall between you and your formerly estranged lover. Seungkwan is a constant, his interference a source of endless aggravation. Every attempt Jihoon made to navigate the situation was thwarted by Seungkwan, who inserted himself in every scenario possible.

And there’s something you are oblivious to that Jihoon isn't: the intent behind your brother-in-law’s eyes. Seungkwan possesses an intense, disturbing gaze that makes the lawyer’s blood run cold. At a mere glimpse, Jihoon could feel the hairs of his body stand on all ends, raising his already made suspicion that he isn’t to be trusted with even a pet rock. The lawyer can recreate from memory that chilling gaze that’s sharp as a blade, as if sketching a portrait of a criminal on the run. 

And if it isn’t obvious enough, Seungkwan holds an apparent animosity towards Jihoon, unwavering. Whether it's through necessary legal interactions or simply sharing a space, Seungkwan's hostility is evident. His dislike for Jihoon is palpable and persistent, an enduring tension that time doesn't seem to diminish. The sentiment, unsurprisingly, is mutual; Jihoon harbors an equal measure of antipathy towards the young heir. 

However, unlike the childish rival, the older man knows how to pick his fights. He doesn’t let the other man intimidate him more than he already does. A few glares and obnoxious scoffs isn’t enough to deter the lawyer’s confidence. Seungkwan acts like a puppy around you, a shameless, lovesick puppy trailing after his master, and that’s all he’ll ever be. Jihoon knows he’s different. Different in the looks you cast at him or the secretive touches you make throughout the day just out of the other man’s view. You actually love him. Undeniably. Rest assured, Seungkwan, at the end of the day, will be a passing thought after the investigation is resolved; at least that’s what Jihoon tells himself.

It’s like any other day when Jihoon's focus shifts from his work, hearing a cheerful voice say, "Knock, knock." Seungkwan, the man who constantly occupies his thoughts, stands confidently in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

“Mr. Boo,” Jihoon greets indifferently, “How can I help you?”

"Please, call me Seungkwan," Seungkwan insists with a disarming smile, "Mr. Boo is my father."

“Well, then, Seungkwan,” He barely managed to keep the documents in his hand from falling off the already towering stack of papers on the corner of his desk as he set them aside. “Is there anything you need from me? Is she asking for me?”

“Oh, no, no, nothing like that.” The young heir closes the door behind him and walks over to the desk with unbridled confidence. “She’s preoccupied with something much more important.”

“I see. Then, what brings you here?”

The plush leather chair behind the imposing mahogany desk creaks ominously under the weight of the man who occupies it. A cold shiver snakes its way down his spine, and the air in the room seems to thicken. The once amiable mask slips out of view before the lawyer’s very eyes, leaving their true dark colors in its wake.

Gone is the casual slouch and the easy smile. The intruder leans forward, his hands gripping the edge of the desk, knuckles whitening with the force of his hold. His shadow falls over the furniture, looming large over the man seated behind it. The once friendly eyes now hold a steely glint, boring into Jihoon, and the lawyer tastes something he’s had before: displeasure with his mere existence, just like your mother years ago, only if she’d had a knife behind her back.

"You need a stern talking to, Mr. Lawyer." Seungkwan leaves no room for misinterpretation as he embodies disdain, spitting the last two words, laden with mockery.

Jihoon’s expression doesn’t falter, his innocuous stoicism is kept strong as he decides to entertain his guest’s obnoxious efforts. “About anything in particular?”

Seungkwan scoffs, narrowing his eyes that look as if they could bulge out of his head. “How about the fact you’re living in this house with a woman you’re not married to? A fresh widow at that.”

“Mr. Boo, I assure you, I’m just doing my job—”

“Then, stay in your lane,” he hisses. “It’s as easy as pushing you into—” Seungkwan cuts off his thoughts as he runs a hand through his hair, expelling the rage building up inside him in deep sighs. “Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be, Mr. Lee.”

Jihoon feigns ignorance, tilting his head to the side in mock confusion. “I don’t follow.”

“Bullshit!” Seungkwan swings his hands over a neatly stacked pile of papers, startling the once composed lawyer as the pages fan around the room and lie scattered on the ground. The cause of destruction slams his hands against the desk, worn chips of wood falling to their demise. “You don’t think I don’t see the way you look at her? How she looks at you? You’re him, aren’t you? The little ex-boyfriend she gave up to marry my brother and please her family.”

Jihoon gets up from his seat, having heard enough as a scowl threatens an appearance. “You are jumping to conclusions. I am just here to represent her in court.”

“STOP,” Seungkwan shouts from the top of his lungs, face twisted in a grimace, “telling me what I am doing. I know exactly what I’m talking about.”

He backs him into a corner, the lawyer relenting his body to the hostility as he reigns in his own anger, displacing it in his fists before putting an arm between them as a barrier. The corners of Seungkwan’s lips tug up arrogantly, shoving himself against the pathetic excuse of a defense. “I fucking looked you up. You are a measly family lawyer. Now, are you going to stay here and stand in the fate of my destiny, or am I going to have to force my fucking hand?”

“...What do you mean by that, Mr. Boo?” Jihoon treads lightly, his forearm shoving back into his assailant.

“I mean,” he bends his neck forward to peer into the other’s soul, the manic in his eyes gradually intensIfying. “I am not afraid to get dirt under my fingers if you overlook your work lusting after something you can’t covet even in your dreams.”

Now the boy’s gone too far. Jihoon’s pride is suddenly on the line, and he’s quick to defend himself. “Now hold on—”

“Why don’t you,” the menace jabs his index finger into the other man’s chest with every word, “hold on and get a grip of reality, unless you want to find yourself in a ditch becoming worm food.”

The fragments of information started coalescing within the recesses of Jihoons's mind, drawing from the vast expanse of his memories of living in the shared residence. Each piece slots into place, and the picture becomes clear. His eyes flare on as the realization dawns on him.

"Y-you," he stammers, his body going stiff. "It was you. You killed him, didn’t you?"

Seungkwan's lip curls in a sneer, his grip loosening for the briefest moment, a flicker of vulnerability quickly replaced by a surge of aggression. With a forceful shove, he slams the other man, a pained groan escaping his lips as his backside collides with the wall behind him as he feels the bruises etch into his skin. "Congratulations," Seungkwan displays his master class act of sarcasm, "You want a cookie?"

“Why on earth would you tell me this?” Jihoon’s voice booms, proving his strength as he takes the offense, seeing the other’s feet stumble to find the ground beneath them.

“Because you’re not going to fucking say a thing if you want to stay alive. I know people in high places. I can snap you and your lineage in half.”

“She wouldn’t want this—”

Seungkwan palm crashes right by Jihoon’s head, missing him by a hair. “She doesn’t have to know. All you have to worry about, though,” he points at him, “is getting her free. Pin it on anyone, literally. A jealous maid, one of his mistresses, a rival client. My brother has more enemies than you can count with all four hands and feet.”

Jihoon fixes his shirt as the heir pulls away, disgusted as he dusts himself of debris that could’ve deflected on him. “It’s the matter of evidence, Mr. Boo.”

“Make some.” Seungkwan hisses before turning to the exit, satisfied with his threat, and stopping once he’s breached the door and leaving Jihoon with his bidding words. “Do your fucking job. Or I’ll just have to pin it on you.”

Jihoon scans his surroundings; the mess conjured in a fit of anger points right in the direction of the culprit hidden under his nose. A fiery rage burns inside the man as he takes his turn slamming his desk with his fist, raking his hands in his hair as his composure comes crashing down. Never in his life had he met someone of Seungkwan's caliber—rude and demeaning soon-to-be divorcees, sure—but nothing like the monster that marked his territory in that room.

His hands shake erratically as he picks up the fallen documents, crinkling in his hands as he forms fists. A shattered sigh breaks free. His heart hammers rapidly at an unmeasurable pace. Perspiration coats his entire body, seeping through the fabric of his clothes to show stains of his uncontainable rage. All Jihoon sees is red, and it will be a frozen day in hell before he relents you to that psychopath. He just has to be smart, and unfortunately that involves you out of the way. Your case—your freedom is still his top priority, but as Seungkwan so enthusiastically suggested, getting his hands dirty is the only way to do it.

The event goes unnoticed by the owner of the home, cleaning up your own mess upstairs in your bedroom as you shuffle through your things in your closet. You look over all the things you’ve left behind, reacquainting with items that only serve as reminders of everything that’s transpired the last few months.

It should be easy knowing he’s gone now, but it does not take away that he was somewhat present for your early adulthood. Whether you like it or not, Hyunkwan’s death affected you, but more than anything, it worried you about the future to come. And like clockwork, your parents call while you’re in the midst of collecting your thoughts, speaking only of the merger and how it now changes things.

Naturally, as next in line, Seungkwan would take his brother’s place in the executive position, keeping the legacy that was left behind, and it leaves you to maintain close ties. Because as the only living heir left, he holds almost power, it’s only a matter of time before he and his family realizes that your family has no place in the Boo empire. After an appropriate time has passed, and the investigation eliminates you as a suspect, it’d only be right for you to join your brother-in-law as his wife. Only your parents would suggest you plan the possibility of engagement as a future course of action.

Dread washes over you as you speak. You feared this would happen. Your parents, with their incessant need to control every aspect of your life, had taken it upon themselves to arrange your second marriage when the body of your first husband has yet to hit the ground. The fact that they have already booked a wedding venue, without even consulting you, is a testament to how little they care about your happiness.

Despite being a fully grown adult, you feel trapped in a perpetual childhood, your parents' controlling grip as tight as ever. Their actions are a constant reminder that they still see you as a child, incapable of making your own decisions. The suffocating feeling is as strong as ever, reminding you why you are hardly willing to talk to them.

Now, with Seungkwan around your house, your parents must be over the moon at the news. It works very well in their favor. However, you aren’t feeling as keen knowing what that means for your current living arrangement with Jihoon. While you typically enjoy Seungkwan's company, it’s hard to be excited with the weight of possible engagement and lack of opportunity to sate the longing of your reunited lover.

You miss Jihoon desperately, and being forced to be separate only makes you crave him more. You've resorted to unusual comms, using secret signals, and hiding your incriminatingly suggestive messages. The need for discretion and secrecy has become necessary, seeing as carving out any sliver of alone time with Jihoon has been impossible because of Seungkwan's constant presence. This boy is an innocent bystander in all this mess. If anything, you feel bad that Seungkwan got so heavily involved, considering he had just lost his only brother. He must feel so down under that happy facade.

“Are you incompetent or plain fucking stupid?”

The voice, chillingly familiar yet unnerving in its unexpected proximity as you take the route to the stairs, blaring loud enough to be coherent from just behind a tightly shut guest room door. It sends a shiver down your spine, a voice you recognize but can't immediately place.

“What’s it going to take to get some real fucking progress…Yes, I gave him a warning. Are you an idiot?”

Your breath catches in your throat while your feet freeze in place. Every muscle tenses as you strain to decipher the torrent of words erupting from the other side of the door. Their voice is so alive with an intemperate anger, each syllable dripping with bitterness. This is a side of your brother-in-law you have never encountered before, something you’d never associate with the man you thought you knew so well.

You cling to the door, careful to avoid making a sound, and listen as the angry ramblings continue. The words paint a picture of a man who apparently is still a stranger to you, a far cry from the Seungkwan who always was kind and sweet to you as someone who was family only by obligation. You can't help but wonder what you have missed to not know this side of him.

This is the man who always seems to have everything under control and gets everything he wants, now unraveling before you.

Boo Seungkwan, just what is going on inside that head?

Before the proposal…

"The butler did it." 

You playfully throw a popcorn kernel at him. "You don't know that!"

"It's always the butler," Jihoon retorts dryly, his voice deep and resonant.

This is one of your many cherished weekends spent with Jihoon. Whether it is curled up with a good book, enjoying peaceful slumber, or as is the case tonight, debating between mystery movies and true crime documentaries, your time together is always precious. Tonight, you were in the mood for a suspenseful mystery, something to keep you on the edge of your seat.

"This is all so predictable," Jihoon sighs, feigning boredom.

"Oh, stop being such a Negative Nancy and just enjoy the movie, will you?" you playfully chide, snuggling closer to him on the couch, seeking to dispel his discontent. 

You know, despite his critiques, he’s enjoying this more than he lets on because of your company. As he’s told you before, movie night is never boring with you around. You nuzzle your head into his shoulder, and the clean scent of his soap and his radiating warmth puts you at ease. You feel the warmth of his chin resting on your head; it’s comforting weight making you melt deeper in his touch. His chuckle rumbles through his chest, making his body vibrate pleasantly against yours, and you feel a content smile tug at your lips. 

"It's kinda hard to enjoy the movie when the camera keeps zooming in on a naked torso every five minutes," he snorts.

"Sexy suspects make for a sexy murder mystery." you retort, a playful glint in your eyes.

"Whatever they're being paid, it's not enough."

You both continue to exchange witty remarks as the movie progresses, dissecting the plot and playfully mocking the characters' over-the-top reactions. Jihoon's playful commentary and your shared laughter fill the room. The suspenseful twists and turns keep you both engaged, invested even, and you both feel at peace in each other’s presence.

"Huh, so it wasn't the butler." 

You shake your head, overflowing with pride. "Nope, everyone always dismisses my most innocent looking one," you reply with a smug grin. "The brother had all the motive, and he played the victim perfectly." You turn to your boyfriend, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “If you were in the midst of a murder crime scene, how would you prove your innocence? Do you think you could outsmart the detective or shift suspicion onto the others?

He scoffs, confidently answering, "I wouldn't need to.”

You raise a brow. "What do you mean?"

"Once you're in the game long enough, that's when the pressure hits," Jihoon explains, crossing his arms and huffing his chest. "They will start pointing fingers, and the 'culprit' will either reveal themselves or look guilty enough just to be guilty. Innocence doesn't matter as much as perception."

"Wow, you're more cynical than I thought," you note with a hint of intrigue. "Is it weird that I find you hotter for that now?"

Jihoon chuckles, his eyes softening as he leans in to kiss you. "You're such a weirdo," he murmurs against your lips, his voice filled with affection, soon reveling in the moans that fill his mouth.

The movie's final scene flickers on the screen, the volume a soft murmur in the background. Neither of you pays it any attention, your lips meeting each other endlessly as his arm clutches your backside, pressing your bodies together. The heat of his body and the steadily growing rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a sense of peace and contentment as the flickering light of the screen casts dancing shadows on the walls, and you bask in its warmth.

"You know," you begin to say in an unserious tone as you pull away slightly, "even if you did kill someone...I wouldn't let you get caught."

Jihoon arches a brow, his eyes twinkling with amusement, and he parts your hair away from your face. "If I kill someone, you run in the other direction. I'm bloodthirsty, remember?"

With playful indignation, you inch away and retort, “Are you saying you’d run from me if I killed someone?"

He pauses, considering your question with mock seriousness. His hands have a mind of their own as he reels you back towards him to hold you in a firm embrace, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Well...you're too sexy to give up to the cops."

You laugh, lightly punching his arm. "Mr. Lawyer! Where is your sense of justice?"

He shrugs, nuzzling his nose against your cheek, "I'm selfish. The culprit can't be that bad if it's you.”

You cup his face, leaning into his touch. "You give me too much credit."

"No," he counters, drags the tip of his nose over the side of his jaw. "I just think I'd be happy to be your accomplice."

You let out a small squeal, feeling his breath tickle the column of your neck. "Oh, you love me so bad."

"Yes," he breathes, his lips finding yours in a kiss that has you explode from the inside, "I do."

The credits roll, and the movie's final notes fade into silence, but the night has just begun. In the dim light of the room, with the taste of his kiss still lingering on your lips, you move even closer to each other, melting into one another until it drowns out the next movie that automatically plays. It isn’t any mystery what other exciting events transpired that night.

Present day…

Jihoon has devised a plan for the impending evening. He just needs to get Seungkwan alone for just a moment to coax him to the point of threats, putting him into a compromising situation that could be documented and subsequently utilized as irrefutable evidence. The absurdity of the situation isn't lost on Jihoon; he’s never felt more like a cable show cliche. All the late night viewings of crime shows from childhood up until now has caught up with him, and finally he’s making use of their unorthodox, bizarre methods.

Ever since that unnerving confrontation with Seungkwan in the confines of the office, Jihoon had been grappling with a rising tide of unease. And he’d had just about enough images of this psycho trying to get cozy with you when he was present. It’s about time Seungkwan gets exposed for the person he really is and keeps your name off the docket.

Seungkwan stands before the lawyer in the secluded area of the house, hardly occupied by anything but dust and untouched furniture. The young man’s usual sunny disposition is replaced by an air of annoyance. His arms are crossed tightly across his chest, and his brow is furrowed. "Okay, I'm here," he says flatly, his voice laced with impatience, "What is it?"

Jihoon moves cautiously towards the other man, feeling his heart in his throat. His eyes stay ahtead, nervously aware of his phone tucked discreetly into his pocket, perfectly positioned to capture the scene in front of him. He clears his throat, "There's something I'm failing to understand," he begins, his tone measured but firm.

Seungkwan's response is sharp, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he lets out an arrogant scoff. "You mean like work ethic?"

His gaze locks onto the other man's face. "I just want to know…why and how?" His tone remains polite, but an undeniable edge that makes the young heir’s intimidating mask reveal an irreparable crack.

“What are you talking about, Lee?”

Seungkwan's face contorts with a crooked smile. His eyes narrow as he glares at Jihoon. The question that hangs in the air, although vague, conveys its meaning and its clear intent of the response it is to receive. Seungkwan's jaw clenched, his body language screaming his contempt. He knows exactly what Jihoon is insinuating, and the mere suggestion is enough to make his blood boil.

The lawyer simply smiles, satisfied to know he’s hit a nerve. “My curiosity is just piqued. It’s not every day I come across a murderer.”

The other man cocks his head to the side, smirking. “Takes some balls for you to say that to me.”

Jihoon shrugs. “Just color me curious.”

“Why? Want to peer into the eyes of a dead man?”

It’s like taking candy from a baby. “You know that well, don’t you? Second hand at least. The same hands you like to get dirty.”

“What are you getting—Wait a minute.” Seungkwan storms over to the other man only to see him take a full step back. 

Suddenly more alert, the younger man's eyes narrow, suspicion etched onto his face as he scrutinizes the other. With a sudden burst of movement, he lunges forward, gripping the man's forearms in a vice-like hold. His breath comes in ragged gasps, and he can practically see beads of sweat forming on his enemy’s forehead. "You're hiding something," he accuses, his voice laced with certainty.

Jihoon strains against the other man's grip, his mind racing. He knows Seungkwan's reputation for pushing boundaries, but this is a blatant disrespect for his personal space. "Mr. Boo—”

However, Seungkwan is relentless. With a deft maneuver, he reaches into Jihoon's pocket and extracts his phone. A triumphant smirk curls his lips as he sees the recording app displayed on the screen. "You must think I’m a moron?"

He throws the phone on the ground before crushing it under his heel. Jihoon stares blankly at his evidence as it gets repeatedly smashed, the deafening sounds of the other man’s stomps rendering him speechless. Seungkwan grabs his collar, eyes wide with an indecipherable fury. “Plan on joining my brother for the case? How passionate. You must really want an early retirement.”

“Is anyone here?” Your voice echoes from the hallway, and the aggressive man is bitterly forced to release the other.

“Just in this room, sweetheart. Wanted to discuss something with Mr. Lee here.”

You appear at the door, swinging it open to peer inside. “I heard a noise and thought to check. No matter how many times I walk through this house, I always find something that takes me by surprise.”

“That’s alright. We were just enthusiastically discussing current events. Nothing to concern you with, just boring man interests,” he eyes the man he just previously attacked, “Isn’t that right?”

“...Yes. All is fine, Miss.”

"Yeah, but I hear something really loud, like stomping? Smashing?" you persist, your brow furrowed with concern. The sounds are so distinct, you couldn't have just imagined it.

Seungkwan pauses, his expression thoughtful. "Hmm, strange," he muses, feigning deep contemplation. "Perhaps it is an animal—"

"Oh my god, someone's phone is destroyed!" You rush over to the scene of the commotion, where an unsalvageable device lies smashed beyond recognition. "Does this belong to either of you?"

Seungkwan's face takes on a look of feigned realization. "Ah, that," he chuckles, "Perhaps we've acted more aggressively with our quips than we realize. That, my dear, belongs to—" 

"It's mine," Jihoon interjects, his voice flat. "Someone probably must've stepped on it repeatedly when we got in the fight."

"Fight?" you repeat, your voice rising an octave.

Seungkwan waves his hand dismissively. “Oh, sweetheart, he’s joking. You are just too gullible—”

"Yeah, we fought." Jihoon shoved past his assailant forcefully, his eyes blazing with defiance as he took his place beside you. "Seungkwan has something he's hiding from you, and before you—"

He takes your hand, grasping it affectionately, leaving you momentarily stunned. Before you could utter a response, another voice cut through the tension.

"Mr. Lee. This game of pretend is going too far. We had only discussed humorously if any of us happened to be the murderer. All in good fun." Seungkwan’s voice is firm, touched with disapproval, as the light started slowly leaving his eyes.

"Kwan? What—"

"Don't believe a word he says, Angel." Jihoon's voice was low and urgent, holding your hand firmer and taking the initiative to step in front of you.

Your eyes widen at your pet name, your heart momentarily stopping to take everything in. "Jihoon—"

Seungkwan's sweet, innocent facade wavers. "Angel," he repeats, feigning ignorance. The word lingers on his lips like a bitter taste before he clenches his jaw. “Does this collaboration go deeper than described, sweetheart?”

You gently wave your hand, gesturing for him to calm down. “Seungkwan, calm down. We—I can explain, but tell me, what is it both of you are talking about? What fight?”

Seungkwan's jaw clenches. "I told you, sweetheart. It's nothing," he repeats, his voice strained.

“No, stop changing the subject! What are you hiding from me?”

Jihoon's arm tightens around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he watches Seungkwan's agitation grow. "He's been lying to you, Angel," Jihoon's voice is low and cautious. "He knows exactly what happened to his brother."

“Hyunkwan? What—” 

Seungkwan’s menacing laughter echoes throughout the vast room. “You’re really pushing my buttons right now. Instead of the theatrics, I suggest you stick to your day job.”

"Seungkwan," you intervene, your voice trembling with disbelief, "you couldn't have possibly..."

"Of course not, sweetheart," he insists desperately, keeping up with his ruse, "As if I had anything to do with my own brother's death. That's preposterous! It's a farce. This lawyer you hired has clearly lost his marbles."

"Jihoon would never lie to me. What aren't you telling me?"

"...Jihoon,” He looks aimlessly in the room with a sardonic smirk. “ You’re on a first-name basis, I see."

"I trust his intuition," you assert firmly, "More than anyone else."

His expression hardens, a wounded note creeping into his voice, "How... how can you say that when... you have me?"

Jihoon had about enough. “He killed him, Angel.”

“Shut. Up.” 

"Seungkwan," you stammer, the truth lodging in your throat like a large pill. It's hard to swallow, but like you said, Jihoon would never lie to you. "You...you killed—"

Seungkwan smoothly cuts you off, "You're really going to believe this stranger over me, darling? And for an accusation so far-fetched? Don't stoop to his level of intelligence, sweetheart."

"Stop patronizing me," you retort loudly. "Did you or did you not kill your brother?"

"I didn't!" Seungkwan's voice booms, intensity burning within his eyes. You can see the sincerity in them, the desperation for you to believe him, but his composure momentarily shatters, and instead you feel a shiver run down your spine at the raw emotion in his voice. You look from Seungkwan's furious face to Jihoon's grim expression, your heart pounding loud enough for everyone to hear loud and clear. At a disadvantage, he uses the moment to take a deep breath, self-sedating. "Of course."

"Boo Seungkwan," You take a deep exhale. "Tell me the truth. Did you or did you not kill Hyunkwan?"

Seungkwan laughs, but it's hollow and devoid of humor. "You're kidding yourself if you believe any of this crap—"

"Don't make me ask again," you warn, your patience wearing thin.

“You might have to, Angel,” Jihoon interjects, muttering in your ear, “Looks like he won't quit.”

"STOP... calling her angel, you insufferable swine."

“Seungkwan!” you exclaim, heart shatteringly so.

Seungkwan's eyes narrow dangerously at the man in front of you. "All you've done is get between me and my darling here. How many times do I have to so kindly remind you?”

Jihoon scoffs in disbelief at how he can keep lying. "Did you give that same kind of mercy to Hyunkwan?"

"You rat ba—"

"Stop it, you two," you fiercely interrupt.

"Fine.” With a defiant glare at Jihoon, the accused grabs your hand and tugs you towards him, leaving Jihoon standing alone, losing his confidence seeing you follow after Seungkwan.

Seungkwan's touch is gentle yet firm, his hands gliding over your shoulders and then up to your head, fingers threading through your hair. His gaze holds a tenderness that sends shivers down your spine, but it also ignites a blind fury in Jihoon's eyes.

"I’ll tell you. All of it," Seungkwan's voice is low and steady, "And maybe then you'll understand where I’m coming from."

Jihoon takes a step forward, "Angel-"

"Enough, Jihoon." You turn to face him, your expression stern, "Seungkwan has something to say. Don't cross the line."

Jihoon's heart sinks. You have never spoken to him that way before. The sting of your words is sharp, the disappointment in your eyes even sharper. A sense of dread settles in his stomach, and he feels as if he can die in a hole.

"Kwan," you gently take his hand, "I'm listening."

"Thank you, sweetheart. You've always been so understanding." His voice is colored with a subtle desperation, a plea for absolution masked by affection.

"You're very important to me," you respond, your voice trembling slightly. "Anything you have to tell me, I'll handle it with the same care I've always shown you."

"You really are the embodiment of love..." His voice cracks, the facade of calm crumbling. "...which makes this all the more difficult to admit." He pulls you into his embrace, your warmth melting the harshness of his prior mood. His forehead rests against yours, his breath hot against your skin. "I did it," he confesses, his voice barely audible.

His eyes, glistening adoration now joined by teary guilt. "I killed him."

Your breath hitches in your throat, your lips parting in a silent gasp. "Kwan..." 

"You know I would treat you so much better than my brother ever could..." He drowns in his twisted conviction. "I love you...enough to kill."

"How could you—”

"It was the only way," he insists, his grip tightening on you. "And now nothing can stop us from being together."

Your silence, born of bewilderment, is unreadable. Yet, a flicker of triumph dances in his eyes, quickly replaced by a softer emotion as he misconstrues lack of protest with immediate acceptance. "Absolutely nothing," he murmurs.

He cups your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. His breath mingles with yours, his lips hovering tantalizingly close. His surroundings melts all around him, leaving only the intensity of his  delusion that crosses the line with obsession. Just as his lips brush against yours, a single word shatters the spell.

“Except.”

Seungkwan's soft chuckle sends a shiver down your spine. His breath caresses your skin as he tenderly whispers, "Except what, my love?" 

"Me." You meet his gaze with an icy stare, your voice devoid of emotion. "I will never love the way you love me."

"...What?"

Before he can comprehend the full extent of your rejection, the door to the room bursts open. A wave of armed officers floods the space, their weapons trained on Seungkwan. "Put your hands up!" they command, their voices echoing through the room.

Seungkwan's eyes widen in panic as he raises his hands in surrender. You take a step back, putting distance between yourself and the man who has held you captive in his twisted affection. As the officers close in on Seungkwan, you can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. Liberated to be free from the clutches of a man that suffocates you with his ‘love.’

“Sweetheart—”

“Stay where you are, Boo Seungkwan. You have the right to remain silent,” the officer continues, unfazed by Seungkwan’s pleas as they run through the whole spiel necessary. The click of the handcuffs echoes in the tense silence, stealing his free reign.

“What the hell is this? Did you do this, Lee?” Seungkwan spits, his gaze burning into Jihoon.

You take control of the conversation before Jihoon can argue. “No, he has nothing to do with this. I did.”

“My love…WHY?!”

"How did you know?" Jihoon asks softly, his gaze gentle as the hardened exterior he puts up to hide his true sentiment dissolves.

"I heard him," A hint of a smile touches your lips as you meet his gaze. "When he didn’t know I was listening, I heard everything. So I set this up. For definite proof."

With swift, deliberate movements, you begin to unbutton your dress shirt. The room is plunged into a shocked silence, the only sound the rushed soft rustle of fabric as your fingers work their way down the buttons. Several eyes, including Jihoon, instinctively avert their gaze, some faces visibly more affected than others. A wave of murmurs ripples through the room, but one voice unexpectedly rises in alarm.

“Sweetheart, stop that right now!” Seungkwan commands in a cracking voice, choking through his tears.

You ignore him, your fingers stilling on the buttons as your attention is turned to the person most shocked from your abrupt actions. "Look at me, Hoon." 

Jihoon's face flushes crimson as he reluctantly relents to your request, staggering with bulging eyes from what he sees. He laughs humorlessly, not believing the extent you took, but of course you did. "You seriously-"

A mischievous grin spreads across your face as you carefully detach the thin wire discreetly taped to the fabric of your camisole, protecting your exposed skin from the cold, hard hardware. "It's not a coincidence the police know exactly when to come in," you declare triumph.

Jihoon's expression shifts from disbelief to begrudging admiration. "I should've known," he mutters, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Expected of a true crime junkie."

"But that's one of the many things you love about me, isn't it?" With a teasing grin, you hand the recording device over to a nearby officer before rushing into Jihoon's open arms and surprise attack him with a slap to his shoulder, eliciting a dramatic wince from him. "That was incredibly stupid of you," you scold, "What if he had actually hurt you?"

"Speak for yourself," Jihoon lightly retorts. Yet, he hesitates, the dejection he felt from your harsh act lingering. However, slowly and surely, he matches your relief and gently pulls you closer by the waist. "You don't know what could've gone wrong getting so close to him like that."

"But nothing did," you counter cheekily, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

The officers tighten their grip on Seungkwan's arms as he struggles in their clutches, his gaze locks onto your figure, which is turned away from him. "Sweetheart," he chokes out in desperation, "How could you?" Tears well up in his eyes, blurring his vision as the pain in his chest spreads throughout his entire body.

You pause, your footsteps faltering for a moment before you step away from Jihoon, who stands a few feet away, cautiously observing your movements. Your face remains impassive,  masking yourself with indifference, concealing the turmoil if it existed. "You have to pay for your crimes, Mr. Boo Seungkwan.”

Seungkwan's shoulders slump as the reality of the situation sinks in. "Hyunkwan was awful. You despised him just as much as I did. I just gave him what he deserved."

Your eyes recover a glint of something akin to understanding, momentarily softening the harsh twists of your features. Your eyes meet his as you concede with soft sincerity, "I do understand that you care about me, and for that, I am truly grateful."

Your eyebrows dip slightly as you continue, taking a deep breath, and your expression shifts, a shadow falling over the planes of your face. Your mercy is indiscernible, and you are unrecognizable. “But to do that to your own brother..."

"I did it for you!" Seungkwan roars, his voice echoing through the room as he struggles against the officers' restraints. "I did it for us!"

Your gaze hardens. "It got me arrested," you remind him sharply. "There is no us. You were my brother-in-law, whom I found solace in and confided in. I thought you were my friend, Seungkwan."

Seungkwan's eyes widen in disbelief. "We're more than that," he insists, his voice trembling with suppressed anger, "We are meant to be together! We were brought together by fate, don't you see it? I should've been the one set up to marry you, not my brother! I love you."

You shake your head slowly knowingly. "No..." you murmur, "You love coveting what was your brother's: his house, his company, love and attention from your parents. And you used me as a pawn. I don't ever want to see your face ever again."

Seungkwan's patience snaps. "Why are you behaving like this? We are-"

"Alright, Richie Rich," one of the officers interrupts, his voice gruff and impatient, "Time to go." They tighten their grip on Seungkwan and begin to lead him away. His protests fade into the distance as the officers escort him down the hallway, A wave of relief washes over you as Seungkwan's voice disappears. Finally to yourselves with nothing to interrupt you. You turn to Jihoon, your face breaking into a radiant smile as you throw yourself into his arms ."I missed you.”

His breath hitches in his throat, and your confession burns his skin as his arms tighten around you. "Now, I'll never give you the opportunity to feel that way again." 

There amidst the flashing lights blaring from nearby windows and adrenaline finally dying down, you shamelessly melt into each others’ touch, comforted knowing there’s no one that can’t take this away from either of you.

It isn’t long after you’re relinquished from your suspect status, and you hear about the aftermath of the case. Seungkwan’s parents, devastated by the monster they raised and remorseful for the late Hyunkwan, refuse to pay his bail. The weight of their son's crimes presses heavily upon them, their hearts aching for the son they lost and the one they failed. However, despite the turmoil the brothers have caused, you hold no animosity towards the Boos. They had been caught in the web of their youngest son's dark, twisted deceit. With a heavy heart, you choose to leave them be, allowing the couple in misery to retreat from the wreckage of their lives without further retribution.

And the Boos’ continued cooperation derived from the guilt and gratitude, along with their descending reputation, your parents no longer find it necessary to push you into another marriage. You sense a lingering bit of regret as they finally surrender your autonomy, unsure of whether it's because of the horrifying situation they've forced you into or their unwillingness to let you go. You don't dwell on it and instead revel in your time well spent with Jihoon, using every given opportunity to make up for lost time.

Your relationship reaches new heights as he moves in with you. Leaving behind the dark vibes of your previous lodging, the new place feels quaint and cozy in comparison. It’s as grand as anything your parents would have provided, and that’s perfect for you. You envision yourself building a family here, reminiscing in the new memories you make over a warm meal or under the warm glow of the television—just as you dreamt it would be with him. Everything falls right into place. Days are shorter, nights are longer, and every second of it feels as if you've fallen for him all over again. You couldn't ask for anything more. Your heart feels so full.

However, there is one last thing you need to do to truly feel at peace. Something you know will gnaw at you if you delay it any further.

“Hello, Seungkwan.”

You speak sternly into the metal receiver attached to the wall beside you, connecting you with a beloved former relative. Your deposition translates well over the call, but Seungkwan still looks at you with a sense of yearning, visibly battling the betrayal that stands in the way of the joy of your visit.

Seungkwan smiles grimly. "My love, you look well. How disappointing."

Lacking sympathy, you retort with a roll of your eyes and a wry smirk. “I just wanted to bid you a final farewell in jail. Someone has to, not like your parents will.”

His forced smile wavers, the corner of his lips twitching involuntarily with suppressed anger, and any semblance of warmth portrayed by a congenial smile. "How incredibly thoughtful of you," he says through gritted teeth.

"Generous of me, isn't it?" You reply with mock sweetness, your taunting not lost on you. "Well, I've done what I set out to do. I'll take my leave now. Brother."

"Hey!" Seungkwan's voice explodes in the tense silence, his composure shattered. His eyes blaze with indignation. "You think you can waltz in here like it's the zoo? I'm not an animal exhibit."

"Could've fooled me, considering you couldn't control your bloodlust like a filthy animal."

His face contorts with rage, gripping the phone in a vice, and he speaks over you harshly. "You're not innocent in all this, sweetheart. Your boy toy will realize that soon enough."

You scoff, your confidence unwavering. "He won't, because you're the one behind bars. You're the murderer."

His laughter is hollow, mirthless. "Don't play with me. You wanted him gone just as much as I did. You even conspired with me, even if it was in jest... You and I both know it."

You firmly cup your hand over the receiving end of the phone, responding to his threats sharply, with no room to argue. "But he never will." You cross your arms with a defiant tilt to your chin, chuckling disparagingly at his loose temperament. You find it easy to add fuel to the fire. "Orange always was your color."

Desperation seeps into Seungkwan's voice, a plea replacing the earlier malice. "You can't do this to me—"

"Good bye, Kwan. Enjoy your life sentence."

With those words, you cut off communication, slamming the metal phone receiver against its cradle, letting it echo in the small, sterile room as you turn to leave. Seungkwan's enraged screams follow you, muffled by the thick glass and quickly silenced by the guards escorting him away.

Now, there’s your peace.

[maruflix]

I WOKE UP AS THE VILLAINESS OF A REVERSE HAREM GAME, BUT WHY ARE THE MALE LEADS OBSESSED ?!! #variouscharacters #windbreaker #f!reader

Here’s the bad news: you died, and there’s no good news. You somehow woke up in the universe of a reverse harem game you played before dying... as the villainess. You’ve planned on ignoring the damned romance routes and live an easy life, but...?! / REQ.

feat. sakura, suo, kaji, umemiya, togame, endo, takiishi　　⎯⎯　wc. 3.2k

notes. thank you for this request... honestly i expanded on it on my own lmao this is so self indulgent and so fun to write don’t take this too seriously (& please ignore any grammatical errors i’m sleep deprived and i reread this like 20 times aha)

content: female reader, royalty!au, kingdom!au, transmigration!au, reverse harem, all the wind breaker boys are infatuated with the reader, slight crackfic?, honestly this is more comedy than romance, no beta we die like my eyes after finishing a revenge regression cultivation martial arts manhua in one night

Death does not come to you quietly.

It is loud, fast, and whirls in without warning on top of eight spinning wheels, driven by a middle-aged man who’s too drunk to notice an unfortunate pedestrian trying to get back to her apartment after a long exhausting day of work.

You heard the crash first before registering that it was in fact you who were lying on the street, the frantic screams from the crowd slowly growing fainter.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Your heartbeat is like thunder but you do not know how to calm it.

The last thing you see before your vision goes dark is the faint glow of your phone, still stuck on the game you’ve been playing for a few weeks now. Wind Breaker: All Routes Lead to Doom!

Oh, what a shame— now there’s no way for you to know the ending.

“.... up....”

Huh?

“Wake up...... you? I promise....”

Though heavy, your eyelids flutter open weakly. An unfamiliar ceiling greets you first, then the mop of black hair.

“Uh...” you wanted to ask the person where you are, but your throat feels like sandpaper. Luckily, just one tiny voice from you is enough to catch his attention. His head immediately snaps up, revealing beautiful heterochromatic eyes.

“Y-you’re awake...!”

Why is this person so familiar, you wonder. Still, that thought is the least of your worries when you feel like you’ve been hit by a truck.

“Anyone! She’s awake!”

Wait...

Maids and butlers come flooding in from the double doors, followed closely by a frantic doctor that looks like he came straight out of a period drama, and the realization hits you harder than the truck that just killed you—

You’ve been transmigrated into the world of your reverse harem game.

Two weeks has passed since then.

After shutting yourself in your room, you’ve started to come into terms with the reality of your new life. Not even the relentless coaxing from your fiancé can get you to come out, so everyone resorts to taking turns waiting outside your room.

You place the paper down, satisfied with your notes.

“Are you there? Please...”

Haruka’s muffled voice that comes from behind your bedroom door is getting harder to ignore. You huff in exhaustion. You’re certain that this is the world of your game, so why is his character so different?

The door swings open, revealing Haruka’s shocked face. You feel a bit annoyed since you didn’t really like his character trope in the first place. A cheater who falls in love with the female lead and gets into a relationship with her without breaking his engagement off until the very last second. Un-recyclable trash.

But...

You swear you see traces of tears in his eyes when Haruka’s hands shoot forward, only to stop midway. He looks unsure, scared of offending you.

“H-how are you feeling? You took... quite a fall.”

“I’m fine.” your reply is curt as you study him. Well, he does look a lot more handsome in person. Dressed in his ducal house colors of black, his heterochromatic eyes pop in stark contrast.

“I-I’m sorry I.. I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. I was busy with the upcoming ball—”

“Let’s break off the engagement.”

He should be happy; after all, he stood you up to go on a date with the female lead and there’s no benefit in involving yourself with one of the male leads of the game.

But when you look up, expecting to see him smile and thank you for allowing him to be with his true love, you see tears streaming down Haruka’s eyes.

“Wha-”

He wipes his tears and storms off.

“Wait-” your remaining sentences dies in your throat as you watch him run away.

For a game, it sure feels real.

The dress you’re wearing is weighing your entire body down, you’re sure of it. Sighing, you readjust your necklace for maybe the tenth time that night, the coldness of the diamonds feeling more like chains that binds you down to this foreign world.

Sure, being transported into a game sounds fun and all, but no one ever talks about how lonely and confusing it is. Still, you keep your back straight.

The crowd that originally flocked you has moved away to another part of the room, save for a certain brown-haired count. Suo Hayato is still standing next to you calmly, as if he hasn’t spend the whole week pestering you after he heard the news of your broken engagement.

“He’s staring at you again.” Hayato muses, twirling his wine glass.

Without him having to point it out, you’re aware of the stare that’s burning holes into you. Haruka plays the part of a heartbroken lover well, his eyes swollen despite his neat hair and clothes. He stands in the far corner of the room, his eyes transfixed on you.

“Well, I can’t control what he chooses to look at.”

Hayato laughs elegantly, then snakes an arm around your waist. “That’s true. How about we give him something to look at?”

Hayato smells amazing; you have to resist the blush that’s slowly creeping across your face. Feeling no resistance from you, he pulls you closer.

“Oh? Aren’t you going to resist me?” His voice is low, teasing. His face is getting closer and closer. He’s handsome and his charm is out of this world... as expected of one of the male leads.

Suddenly, the doors open with the butler announcing the arrival of tonight’s star. You jump in surprise, escaping Hayato’s grasp as you watch the white-haired crown prince makes his entrance.

Umemiya Hajime looks dazzling under the gleaming chandeliers.

White and gold suits him, you think to yourself in a daze as he spots you in the crowd and starts to make his way to you.

Wait, he starts to what?

He gets in front of you before your feet can carry you to the garden. “My lady, you look radiant tonight.” Hajime breathes out, a smile adorning his features.

His kind eyes calms your nerves.

“Your highness.” You curtsy, not knowing what else to say.

An outstretched hand comes into view. You look up to see Hajime smiling. “Will you do me the honor of having your first dance tonight?”

‘I just wanna go home...!!’

But how can you turn down the crown prince of the country? You let him guide you to the dance floor, followed by the envying eyes of the crowd. Crown Prince Hajime has his fans, but you have yours. The game makes sure that you’re the most eligible bachelorette in the kingdom, a goal that the player has to surpass.

“You dance very well.” Hajime’s face is calm but you can’t tell what he’s thinking.

“I’m flattered, your highness, but why did you suddenly...”

Hajime’s eyes twinkle and he spins you, catching you perfectly by the waist, “My reasons are quite shallow, I must admit. I thought you and Lord Haruka made a good match... or was I mistaken?”

You sigh. Having to recite your reason to everyone in high society is getting tiring. “As they say, you never know what goes on behind closed doors.”

The music rises in a crescendo and Hajime pulls you closer, his head tilted in amusement. “Is that so? Then the young duke must not know how to treat a lady.”

“Oh, and do you?” wanting nothing more than going home, you snap at him, — but he merely smiles and tilts his head — glaring at him in annoyance, “... know how to treat a lady?”

Hajime laughs, not taken aback in the slightest. “My lady, if you give me the permission to, I will not only treat you better than the young duke ever can..”

You shiver. Wait.. the game isn’t supposed to be like this—

His grayish blue eyes is mischievous when he leans down to whisper in your ear, “I can also make you the most noble lady in the kingdom.”

Since the dissolvement of your engagement and your dance with the crown prince at the founding day ball, more and more letters have been piling up on your desk. Invitations to tea parties, date invitations, even engagement requests from all the young aristocrats in the kingdom— you want to live an easy life, but your life is more eventful than it’s ever been!

To make matters worse, you’ve gotten yourself acquainted with the archmage and the commander of the knights during one of your outings to the royal library. Sneaking around to avoid the crown prince was hard enough, but you encountered two male characters instead!

“Hey, don’t you ever get tired of reading those books?” For the commander of the royal knights, Togame Jo sure has a lot of free time that he spends by irritating you.

Ren’s wind magic playfully flaps the pages of your book, gentle enough not to disturb you. “Stop bothering her and go away, knight.”

“Won’t it be better to go on a date with me instead?” Jo ignores your frown and starts to play with your hair.

These characters are not romanceable, but they won’t leave you alone!

“No, thanks. This book does the job of keeping me company very well.”

Ren has started creating small fireballs that flicker from the tips of his finger. “How do you feel about going to the empire? I heard there’s a magic tool being sold in the underground markets.”

“Are you serious?” You feel your face settling into an eternal deadpan.

Ren looks serious and mature on the outside but he says the most unreasonable nonsense. You suppose it’s the perk that comes with being the archmage, one of the strongest people in the continent.

Unluckily for you, although from a powerful ducal family, you’re still a lady of the high society— and a very popular one, at that. If you want to live a lavish life, you can’t shirk your duties.

“Sounds fun. Let’s go.”

“YOU’RE THE COMMANDER OF THE ROYAL KNIGHTS, FOR GOD’S SAKE!”

Jo blinks, then shrugs. “I can always take some time off and delegate my duties to Choji and Kota. I’m still a nobleman who deserves a holiday.”

“Oh, it’s so you to bring titles into this.”

“Wait, we’re seriously doing this?”

Jo sighs. “I don’t want to resort to this, but...” he gestures for you to come closer. You and Ren immediately lean in.

“I heard the crown prince is planning to officially ask for your hand in marriage.”

You slam your book shut, making the two men jump slightly in their seats.

“We’re going.”

For a game world, the scenery sure is breathtaking.

After traveling almost three days on a lavish carriage and seeing the gorgeous sights of the countryside, your small team has finally reached the neighboring empire.

Unlike the small scenic kingdom where you started playing, the empire is big and powerful. The empire has its clutches all the way to the northern and eastern continents, it’s a miracle it hasn’t tried to invade the tiny kingdom you call home.

This huge superpower empire is governed by none other than Takiishi Chika, the yandere type hidden character of the game. He’s the last character you’d want to cross paths with, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

You have better luck laying low in this humongous empire than back home with the ticking bomb that is Umemiya Hajime.

“You feeling okay?” Ren questions, brushing his hand against yours. His magic sizzles in the air and you immediately feel less dizzy.

“Thank you, I feel a lot better.” Your grateful smile makes him beam. Turning your head to locate Jo, you stumble slightly, only to hit your back on his broad chest. “Oh! There you are.”

Jo wraps an arm to steady you, then moves to grab your hand, pulling you with him. “You must be dizzy from hunger. Let’s go get something to eat.”

Ren is quick to follow, grumbling.

The three of you has gotten closer during the span of your journey. To your surprise, they are delightful to be around.

The weird thing is this: the closer you get, the more they seem to hate each other.

“Oh.. this is the worst idea... I’m really not supposed to be here...” Hastily pulling down your cloak to cover more of your face, you lean forward until your forehead makes contact with Ren’s back.

“It’s okay, we’re here to protect you. The underground markets are a sight to be seen.” Jo chuckles. It’s rare to see him without his uniform, but he looks handsome in his disguise.

“But..” you bite your lip, your mind racing. Now that you think about it, Endo Yamato’s character is not just an assassin, but also the king of the underworld. What if you accidentally meet him here? With your luck, you feel like it’s going to happen.

“Look! The auction is starting!” Very few things can get Ren excited— this rare magic tool is one of them. His hood almost fell down, revealing his stylish blond hair.

You quickly pull it down.

The auctioneer’s words are a blur in your ears; you‘re too busy observing your surroundings. You haven’t progressed this far in the game, so anything can happen at this point.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of your neck stands up. The only thing you can think about is: someone is staring at you.

Whipping your head to the direction where you feel the sudden chill, you feel your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach. In the corner of the room, a black-haired man stands with his arms crossed in front of his chest, his eyes studying you intently. He smirks when you finally return his gaze.

Endo Yamato!

“We should go,” you tug at Jo’s sleeves.

“Huh? But the magic tool hasn’t even been brought out yet!” Ren protests.

“Is everything okay?”

Your head spins. “I- I have to go. Meet me outside later.”

Ren and Jo watches as you run out the room in confusion.

“She’s probably disturbed by the humid air here.” Ren is already focusing his attention back to the auction.

Jo is uncertain, his gaze still lingering at the door.

“Right... that should be it...”

The exit is getting closer and the corridors are getting emptier, most of the visitors already flocking at the auction downstairs.

You round the corner, feeling relief flood you... only to crash into the person you’ve been trying to avoid all this time.

“Oops! Why are you in such a hurry, miss?”

No, no-

“The auction’s just started. It’ll be a waste to leave now.”

No, not this guy-

“Oh, where are my manners? I’m Endo Yamato. What’s your name?”

Your breaths are getting shorter. This guy is bad news. He’s the character who kills the villainess in more than ten endings. Even in the crown prince’s route, he’s the one who kills the villainess—!

“Miss?” a finger tilts your chin upwards and your breath halts. Yamato is staring at you, his bangs falling down in front of his eyes. He’s gorgeous, but all you can think about is where he hides his dagger.

“I-I have to go.”

Yamato blinks. Before he can say anything, a guard appears from behind him and immediately registers your face.

“Hey! You’re the girl that came with the mage! You don’t have an invitation, you intruder!”

Stomach squeezing in panic, your eyes searches for an exit. But there are none: you can either try to outrun Yamato and the guard, or escape Yamato’s clutches and run back to the auction and hopefully exit this place in one piece with your two companions.

To your surprise, Yamato clicks his tongue. He spins around in his heel, surprising the guard with his identity.

“M-my lord!”

“Leave. Do you have a death wish?”

The guard’s eyes flits between you and Yamato, but he bows and does as he’s told without question.

That’s one thing taken care of. You feel slight relief.

“This is the first time I have such a pretty intruder.” Yamato laughs, shamelessly caressing the side of your face before twirling a strand of your hair, bringing it to his lips to plant a kiss on it, “You can intrude anytime.”

The butterflies you feel on your stomach— you don’t know if they’re from bashfulness or fear.

“However, as much as I’d love to have you all for myself..” he sighs, “I have a mission to do. Please forgive me.”

You’re about to ask him why he’s apologizing to you, but you feel a force coming into contact with the side of your neck and your world suddenly goes dark.

It smells foreign, unlike the fresh flowers that the maids usually puts in the vase by your bed.

Your eyes snap open, the memories of recent events flooding in. The empire. The auction. Yamato.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

Your captor has golden eyes and flaming red hair. Your kidnapper stands in the far back, smiling at you pleasantly.

No, no, no, no-

“Good. I can start the marriage preparations.”

Wait, the what?

“Who- where-”

“Don’t you remember me? Well, it’s okay even if you don’t. I’m not letting you go anytime soon.” Chika says as a matter of factly, gently scooping up your hand and kissing it softly.

YOU HAVEN’T PROGRESSED THIS FAR IN THE GAME. But it must be the childhood friend trope. Aren’t you the villainess...? Why would the villainess be childhood friends with the hidden character?

“You promised to share.” Yamato’s voice holds a tone of annoyance.

Chika ignores him.

“Wait! I-I’m the fiancé of the crown prince! I’m not even a citizen of this empire!” Lying through your teeth, you suppose it should be okay— Umemiya was planning on making you crown princess anyway, with the way he was speaking.

Chika raises an eyebrow, as if you just said something silly.

“Yes, I heard all about that.” Yamato groans, pushing himself off the wall to approach your bedside, “All that talk about ‘I’m going to make you the most noble lady in the kingdom’, right? Blech.”

Good, they can’t mess with you now. It became a matter between two countries, right? “T-That’s right! I’m just here on vacation before we hold our engagement ceremony!” More lies. You wince. You don’t even believe your own lie.

“So?”

The indifference in Chika’s tone sends chills down your spine.

“I will burn his puny kingdom to the ground and give the territory for you as a wedding present. Why would you want to be with him when I can make you the most noble lady in the whole continent?”

‘Oh, Gods— someone pull me away from this universe! The things they say are getting more and more nonsensical!’

“Before you do that, we need to deal with her companions.” Yamato places a hand on your pillow, smirking, “traveling before your engagement ceremony, huh? With two men who’s head over heels for you?”

“The archmage and the knight?” Chika starts, but you are having none of it.

“No bloodshed, please!”

Chika looks genuinely surprised at your outburst. He kisses your hand again, “Alright, I will do as you say. Please quell your anger, my empress.”

You look at Chika, who has an innocent expression on. Then to Yamato, still smiling pleasantly at you. If you go back to your kingdom, you risk being entangled with Hajime. There’s also your ex-fiancé Haruka who acts like a kicked puppy, and Hayato who won’t leave you alone. If you manage to escape the castle, Ren and Jo will no doubt come looking for you. For non-romanceable NPCs, they sure act like rivals in love.

You feel a headache incoming.

Time to draft new survival notes.

[aurumalatus]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 (𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔)

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.4k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers (yes kinich literally invented this trope okay. sue me), mini-drabbles, childhood to university, modern!au, fluff and slight angst, lots of bantering but it's light-hearted i promise

summary.

you've always been a sore loser—kinich is just the only one brave enough to say it. or, you and kinich fall in love over the course of your lives, and one thing never changes—you're both idiots

author's note. credit to @/scythidol for the header images! a bit of a different fic format this time (who is she....). i'm sick over kinich, i have nothing clever to say or excuses to make. that's all, thank you for reading! i'm finishing this at 5am so i'll fix any errors later lol. reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

I.

“You’re annoying.”

The old TV in your backyard treehouse buzzes with static and the constant thumps of Kinich’s fingers against the controller buttons.

It’s a summer evening—crickets chirp merrily in the grass and lightning bugs float lazily through the air, glowing among the stars. You’re sitting next to him, knees pulled to your chest and the straw of a Capri-Sun settled between your lips.

His reaction (or lack thereof) to your words leaves you less than entertained, a sour pout fixed on your lips as he sighs.

“You’re a sore loser. We said whoever got up here first got to play first.” Despite the intense game occurring on the screen in front of him, he diverts about half his attention to watching you out of the corner of his eye. “And I got up here first.”

“But you always win,” you whine. Kinich nudges at his own juice box with his knee, and you roll your eyes before picking it up and holding it to his lips—he drinks gratefully, still focused on his game. You’re not sure why you keep agreeing to this bet; you don’t think you’ve ever won.

“Then you need to get faster.”

Both of you know that such a feat would be impossible—Kinich has been the fastest kid in your grade since you started school. His athleticism affords him a bit of popularity, still at the age where winning a playground race is essentially the deciding factor between the cool kids and the lame ones. But he’s not interested in any of that, and he makes that quite clear in his actions.

After all, all the popular kids avoid him since he started a fight with them last year. 

“They were saying things about you,” he’d shrugged, like it was no big deal. The school seemed to think a bit differently, and his suspension felt like the longest week of your life.

The screen flashes then, a loud and colorful display that shows the words “you win”. Kinich leans back in his seat, a pleased half-smile spreading across his face. 

“Okay, now you can play.”

He tries to hand you the controller, but you huff, crossing your arms and turning away.

“I don’t even wanna play anymore.”

Kinich is far more mature than you at this age—even your own mother tells you as much—so he merely sighs, accepting of your tantrum.

“Okay, what do you wanna do then?”

You ponder that for a moment. There’s a lot of things you do often, but many of them are things that Kinich is much better at than you. Playing video games, climbing trees, riding bikes—he’s far more talented at them all. It’s one of the reasons you even became friends in the first place—you’d practically begged him to teach you to beat the final boss of Super Mario Galaxy, and the rest was history.

“I don’t know,” you mumble noncommittally, blowing your straw wrapper at him. It lands right on target, bouncing lightly off his forehead as he rolls his eyes.

“Come on, whatever you wanna do, we’ll do it,” he says, poking at your cheek. “I’ll even play house.”

And you know Kinich hates playing house—he has boundless amounts of energy most days, and house isn’t “challenging” enough of a game for him to expend it. But he does it occasionally, just for you.

You brighten at the prospect. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, already descending the treehouse ladder, waving you along. “Let’s go inside first, though. I’m hungry.”

Scrambling to your feet, you jump down to meet Kinich, already standing in the grass.

“Last one inside is a rotten egg!”

II.

The rainstorm ends just as classes dismiss—when you walk out the school entrance, a slight drizzle is still letting up, fresh puddles lapping at your toes. Kinich’s gaze finds you instantly as he slinks out of the school gates, bag tossed loosely over his shoulder.

“My socks are wet now,” you whine, patting down the edges of your skirt to look down at your shoes. You’d only just bought them recently, and your mom likely wouldn’t be pleased with the prospect of you ruining them so soon.

Kinich chuckles at first, a snarky sound as thick as the gathering clouds, only to sigh when your pout persists.

“Alright, alright,” he relents, squatting to the ground and gesturing for you to get on his back. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

He’s a bit frail, still in his growing phase—his bones and muscles shift rhythmically under his skin as he walks—but he’s so distinctly warm. The heat makes you curl closer, nose brushing against his neck.

He walks you home most days like this, spending the day at your house until the sky grows dark with dusk. His home life is something he rarely discusses, but you know enough, and you’re happy to welcome him to yours.

“You’re slow,” you mumble into his shoulder. The steady thump of his steps is comforting, nearly putting you to sleep.

“You’re heavy,” Kinich replies teasingly, adjusting your weight atop his back. His words are biting, but he’s being careful with his steps nonetheless, taking each one lightly so as not to jostle you.

“You’re rude,” you scoff back. His nose scrunches in annoyance when you loop your arms tighter around his neck, pretending to choke him as punishment. “You’re not supposed to say that to a girl.”

He blows his bangs out of his eyes, peering up at the newly visible sun that starts to dip low in the sky. You watch a cat scurry through the bushes to your right, golden eyes peering through the foliage before disappearing into the darkness. 

“Yeah, that’s why I’m saying it to you.”

Kinich is always a bit wittier than you, a bit quicker to the punch, but you like that about him. You like a lot of things about him, and you’re sure he knows it, too. A weighty silence settles between the two of you, unnatural—it’s usually you who fills the silence, and Kinich who patiently listens.

But something bigger sits at the back of your mind, and the words are having trouble surmounting the obstacle of your tongue. 

You’re still floundering for something to say by the time your house appears in the distance. The sight lights a fire under you—you don’t want to discuss something like this with your mother in earshot. You force the words out, voice weak and small.

“I heard Mualani confessed to you yesterday.”

The rumor had flown through the school like wildfire. Mualani is popular with the boys after all, so there’s bound to be quite a bit of heartbreak if she ends up in a relationship. Someone had seen them together at that sakura tree behind the school, and it instantly became a hot topic—it’s all you’ve heard about all day.

And though you know it’s not really any of your business, you can’t help but be curious, and the thought fills you with dread.

You manage a glance at his expression, searching for any sort of unrest, but he doesn’t show any at all. In fact, he seems wholly uninterested in the topic.

He shrugs. “Yeah, so?”

You take a deep breath for courage—you’re not sure you want to hear his answer. 

“So? What did you tell her?”

And it’s nothing against Mualani, really—she’s kind and beautiful, and you wouldn’t blame Kinich for falling for her. She’s never done anything wrong to you at all. But a beat passes, and you’re already halfway through mourning the end of your long-time crush when he replies.

“I told her I was flattered, but I wasn’t interested.”

A sigh of relief escapes you then, but you reel it in quickly—he can probably feel you relax against his back at his response.

“Oh,” is all you say, as aloof as you can manage. Kinich latches onto your hesitation instantly.

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” comes your hasty reply. “...Is there any reason you said no, though?”

He frowns. “I don’t know. She just isn’t my type.”

“...Then what is your type?”

You’re going too far, you know—even just speaking the words has your chest twisting painfully, and you want to crawl into a hole and disappear. If Kinich isn’t an idiot, he can surely tell why you’re practically breathing down his neck over the whole thing.

But maybe Kinich is a little bit of an idiot, at least about these things, because he merely shrugs.

“Not sure. Never really thought about it.”

A frost unfurls in your chest, bitter—of course Kinich wouldn’t know, he’s never thought about anyone that way. Including you.

“Right.” You attempt a laugh, teeth gritting. “It’s all stupid anyway.”

You drop your head into his shoulder, trying to hide the pained expression on your face, and only then does Kinich’s stare flicker to you, soft.

“Right,” he says, a quiet rumble from his chest. “It’s really, really stupid.”

III.

Walks turn to drives when Kinich turns sixteen and buys his own car.

He’d saved up for months, working part-time jobs on weekends and after school, until the day finally came when he pulled up into your driveway, keys in hand. Your mom had been overwhelmingly proud—bought a cake and everything—and you’d merely been grateful that you no longer had to beg her to drive you places. 

It’s nothing crazy, just a simple sedan, but it represents a freedom that the two of you have never experienced together before.

That’s how you end up parked underneath the flickering streetlight just outside your house, excitedly recounting a story to your best friend. He’d driven you home from your club after school, an errand that always ended in several other stops—today, it had been fast food and boba.

His eyes seem to glow in the fading daylight, a pretty jade and amber that you’ve always thought was beautiful. It feels a bit more intense with his stare trained on you—Kinich isn’t the talkative type, sure, but he always ensures that you know he’s listening.

“So then she was asking me about you.”

“Mhm.”

“And get this,” a nervous chuckle escapes you then, “she thought we were dating.”

Everything falls still.

It’s times like this that you really start to hate just how unreadable your best friend can be. Despite how much you tease him for it, you actually enjoy how difficult it can be to force an expression out of him—it’s a little challenge every day. But now, when you’re on the precipice of pouring your heart out, his impassive expression stings.

Nothing on his face changes, save for a slight tilt of his head—he’s considering your words. The silence feels endless; a lump starts to form in your throat, humiliation burning at your cheeks. 

“I know, it’s so ridiculous,” you assert hurriedly, trying to avoid the rush of shame. “I mean, we would never—”

“Tell her we are, then.”

You’re sure that in that moment, your heart stops. 

Truthfully, you hadn’t planned to get this far—you were planning on brushing over that part of the story and moving on, but something deep in your heart had forced it out of you. Now, you aren’t sure what you really want to happen.

It’s always been your underlying fear, that once Kinich finds out, everything will change. Or even if he does return your feelings, it’ll all go up in flames eventually and you’ll never be the same. It’s terrifying enough to have kept your mouth shut all these years.

A tense laugh erupts from your throat, cutting through the silence. “I—I mean, it’s not that simple—”

He arches a brow. “Do you not want to?”

That’s another difference between you and Kinich—he’s far more straightforward about getting things that he wants. It’s one of the reasons that people misinterpret him as cold, but he sees it as being logical.

You gnaw at your lip, fingers tracing over the car door. Do you?

If the countless daydreams and romantic notebook doodles are anything to go by, you do. You really do. You’re just not sure if you’re brave enough to take that step.

When you look at him again, he’s observing you carefully, a delicate fondness lying in his stare. You shrink under the weight of it.

“No, I do,” you admit quietly. 

The moment falls still, and your eyes are drawn to the only movement within your line of vision—the quick bob of Kinich’s throat. Then, his hand advances toward your face at a measured pace, giving you endless opportunities to retreat.

Of course, you don’t.

“Can I…?” he asks, barely a brush of a whisper. The tension runs thick in the air as his tongue peeks out, swiping over his bottom lip at a tantalizing pace. It’s nearly enough to drive you crazy, but you know he’s just as anxious.

“Yes,” you breathe, wincing at the sound of your own voice—it sounds almost too eager.

But Kinich presses his lips to yours all the same, soft and wanting, and your heart flutters in your chest. It’s a chaste kiss, nothing like the fireworks-exploding-making-out-with-tongue types you’ve seen on TV, but it’s just right—it feels like him, and that’s all that matters. He pulls away slightly, lips still millimeters away from yours.

“I like you. If I’m not wrong, you like me too. I think it’s that simple.”

You almost want to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Though you’d never admit it, you’ve practiced this scenario thousands of times in front of your bedroom mirror—what you would say to him, what he might say to you. Leave it to Kinich to not follow the script.

But he’s always done things his own way, so really, you should’ve expected this.

Gently, he reaches for your hand, fingers slotting through yours with ease. You sigh.

“I guess it is.”

IV.

“...that far, huh?”

Kinich stares at you upside down, head dangling off the edge of your bed as you sit at your desk, laptop keys clicking rapidly. He knows you’re serious about your future goals; you both are. He just never imagined it would bring the two of you so far apart.

You pause with one hand resting on the mouse, still staring at the screen. The map looks so daunting, too daunting, and you can’t imagine being that far away from him. 

An awkward, weighted silence hangs in the air, and by the time a few seconds pass, you’ve already foreseen eighty different bad endings for this situation. Clearing your throat once, you force yourself to speak.

“Kinich, I—”

“I get it.”

He doesn’t mean to interrupt you so suddenly, but he does. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried. Because while he does understand—he really does—he also can’t help the stinging sensation of tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. It feels pathetic. It feels selfish. Here you are, chasing your dreams and supporting his, and he’s caught on the fact that there will be a little space between the two of you. And it’s not like it’s anyone’s fault, but maybe you’ll get tired of waiting and—

“You’ll come back to me, right?”

There’s an unmistakable thickness to your voice, evidence of the steadily growing lump in your weary throat. It grows larger with every passing second, an insurmountable mass dwarfed only by the impending distance between you and him.

That question catches Kinich off-guard, and he nearly wants to laugh then; not because he doubts you at all, but because he doesn’t, and he finds it ridiculous that you would ever think otherwise. Here you are, worrying about him.

Kinich doesn’t have any doubts or fears. He never does when he’s with you.

Maybe that’s why.

With a light laugh, he lets his eyes flutter closed, finally allowing an uneven breath to fill his lungs. The natural light outside is slowly dimming, the fluorescent lamps dotting your street flicking on one by one. He knows he should go home soon. His car is sitting outside, the same one the two of you have had endless adventures, fights, and make-ups in. It’s the same one he will use when he moves an unfathomable distance away from you. The same one he will use on the day you will cry, clinging to him like your life depends on it, before watching him disappear into nothing but a mere dot in the distance.

His fist clenches at his side. 

But you’re still here, the closest feeling he has to home, and you’re still in love with him, and he is still in love with you.

Maybe that’s why this is enough, for now. 

Turning onto his stomach, Kinich sees you right-side up this time, and it’s like nothing has changed.

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” 

V.

A knock echoes on your apartment door in the middle of the night.

You raise a brow at the sound, a bit unnerved—a lone college girl answering the door in the dark isn’t the safest thing, you think as you peek one eye through the peephole. But there’s a familiar figure standing outside, and it has your hand turning the knob immediately and flinging the door open.

He’s here.

“Kinich,” you breathe, in disbelief. Last you’d heard, he was somewhere halfway across the country, and certainly nowhere near your front door. But he’s here, in a black hoodie and grey sweatpants, looking like he’s just walked out of your dreams.

“Hey,” he says simply, as if his appearance hadn’t been totally shocking. He takes advantage of your shell-shocked state to invite himself inside, curiously looking through your apartment. “Nice place.”

You step aside in a daze. “Kinich—you—what are you doing here?”

He’s holding three flimsy bags in his fist, grocery store logos and restaurant labels stamped over the plastic, keys hanging off his pinky finger. He’d come prepared, clearly, but for what you’re not sure. 

He towers over you a bit more than he used to, hair a bit longer, and everything about him feels so grown up. It reminds you of all the moments the two of you have missed over the years, how much change has occurred beneath your nose, maybe without you realizing. 

He spreads the bags over your kitchen table—the mouth-watering smell of Chinese takeout filters through the air, and your stomach grumbles in reply. But it’s your tear ducts that react initially, a sting at the corners of your eyes as you squeeze them shut.

Kinich doesn’t notice at first, absorbed in inspecting the photos displayed on your wall—photos of you, photos of him, photos of the two of you together. It makes his chest warm that you still think about those times. He does too—after all, it’s rare that you leave his mind.

But he turns back to you, tears running rivers down your cheeks, and his breath hitches.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, carefully cupping your face. A lilt of panic laces his voice. “Does something hurt? Are you sick?”

“You’re here,” you sob, curling into his shoulder. None of it feels real. He’s warm and firm beneath your fingers, and you clutch at him tighter, half-expecting everything to disappear. It’s so much different than FaceTime or calling or anything else you do when he’s away. Because right now, he’s completely within your reach, and everything falls into place.

“Of course I am,” he murmurs. You cry into his hoodie, soaking the fabric with your tears, but he holds you close all the same. “Because you’re here.”

You spend a few minutes that way—you crying until your tears dry over your skin, and him comfortingly rubbing at your back. Air slowly returns to your lungs, and you sniffle, glassy eyes meeting his. 

“But why? I mean, it’s the middle of the semester, isn’t it?”

A rare half-smirk graces his lips.

“We made a promise. I came back to you first. So I do believe that means that I win,” he says. If you weren’t so emotional, you might have rolled your eyes—of course, all he ever focuses on is winning.

He drags you over to the couch, laying down and pulling you on top of him, safe. You draw closer to him, tangling your limbs together until you’re not sure where he ends and you begin.

“You’re annoying,” you whisper, muffled into his chest.

Kinich shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“You’re still a sore loser. Thought you’d grow out of that by now.”

You grumble a few choice words at him, and he smiles—a sight that only you and the stars can claim to have ever seen.

And he’s right; you are a sore loser, and he’s been right just about every time he told you so. But you find it doesn’t matter, not really.

You could never win against Kinich anyway.

(Maybe you never wanted to.)

[kookiestiddies]

1 | first sightings

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x female reader

Genre: Enemies With Potential | Fluff, Angst & Smut

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: swearing, mild injury, reader is grumpy, mentions of flashing (???), attempted humour, if you see any typos and grammatical errors no u didn’t

A/N: there'll be no fixed schedule for this bcs I have commitment issues rip so good luck to ya'll honestly. happy reading! feel free to lmk your thots :8) 👍🏼

°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

3 years ago...

Fuck my life! 

That’s what you think to yourself as you try to catch your breath; an impossible feat considering the fact that you’re lugging along 3 monstrous and overpriced textbooks. And not to mention the fact that you’re racing across campus because it’s only the first day of your college career and you happened to be late.

Sure, maybe it could be considered your fault because you hit the snooze button too many times over the course of an hour before your class actually started. Maybe you only further sealed your fate by taking too long in the shower. However, in your defence, it should be decreed a social injustice for classes starting earlier than 11 am to be acceptable. Rest and hygiene come first about all else, yup yup. 

You were so focused on reaching your destination that you missed to sound of the bell ringing overhead the campus coffee shop entrance on your side, signalling someone’s rushed exit.

So imagine your surprise when you find that your race to the class that’s 2 minutes away from starting is brought to a halt when you’re suddenly sent flying perpendicular to the direction you were going in by an unseen force only to land harshly on the lawn in front of the coffee shop. 

You see it all happening in slow motion: you’re rapidly reaching the ground but not before you jut out your arms to hopefully prevent your face from getting too intimate with the muddy ground. Your ultra-premium textbooks leave your grasp to land in- 

Oh NO! 

A puddle.

While you sit there in shock, barely processing what just happened, you hear someone swearing nearby from the direction of the coffee shop. You look up towards it to find a pair of doe eyes looking back at you. The owner of said doe eyes is crouching ahead of you; a boy.

Before you can take a good look and process him, he’s already up on his feet and quickly picks up a bag scattered haphazardly next to him. You snap out of trance and call out to him as he makes a move towards the main campus buildings. 

“HEY!”

He hesitantly stops and looks around at you. “What?!” 

What’s with his tone?! 

“What do you meant, What?! You knocked me down! My textbooks are ruined!” you say as you get up haggardly, brushing off the mud on your elbows.

“I’m sorry, but I’m already late for my class, I’ve got to go,” he replies quickly and starts scurrying away. 

“WHAT?!” you yell to his retreating back to no avail. Oh, now you’re mad. 

The boy’s hurriedly retreating figure comes to a sudden halt and turns around, speeding towards you with his hands in his pocket. 

That’s more like it. Get your ass over here and apolog-

“I’m sorry about your textbooks, hope this covers it!” he rushes out and shoves a wad of cash in your hands. He doesn’t wait for your response before he darts back towards the campus building. 

You’re too stunned. You are simply. Too. Stunned.

An angry pout forms on your face as you mull things over and count the cash that he generously thrusted to you. A whole 50 bucks. The sheer audacity of that stupid boy. 

What the heck were you supposed to do with 50 bucks?! Each textbook cost atleast 90 bucks!

You pick up your bag and your now wet, smudged and ruined mammoth of a textbook set with a groan and angrily huff your way towards class, which you are now officially late for.

Imagine meticulously planning out your first day at college from hour-to-hour, only to end up becoming the loser that shows up to class late with a set of muddy textbooks, ruined hair and shockingly dirty clothes.

Operation Have A Positively Impressionable First Day of College: FAILED.

You would continue your run to class if it weren’t for the fact that your knee was sore as a result of you getting to 2nd base with the grass which led to you limping the rest of the way. 

Maybe people are kind, maybe it was the fact that your anger and annoyance were monstrously visible to anyone passing by, but thank fuck, everyone moved away from you as you stormed your way to class. Thanks to your encounter with that fuckhead of a boy earlier, your mood is now at its lowest setting and you simply cannot tolerate anyone else for the rest of the day probably. You curse him under your breath the whole way.

It can’t possibly get any worse, right? Wrong.

When you finally make it to class, you were 4 minutes late and three significant things happened one after the other:

#1 You had to face the embarrassment of 200 pairs of eyes, plus the lecturer’s, witnessing your walk of shame as you cautiously entered the class like a gazelle amongst a pack of lions. 

2# All the seats towards the front were taken up so you had no choice but to find an empty seat towards the back of the class. 

3# By your luck, you realised too late that you were seated right in front of an annoyingly familiar face.

He tried to hide from you. 

You know this because he looked at you straight in the eyes, visibly panicked and lied his head on the table with his hoodie and arms shielding him, pretending to be asleep. 

Tch, pathetic!

Thankfully, the rest of the class went by as smoothly as can be, though you did feel the heat of someone staring at you at the back of your neck. You tried your best to ignore it by forcing all your attention toward the lecture. 

When the end of the class came around, you were quick to exit the class. 

Frankly speaking, you’ve had enough of today.

As you turn down the hallway, you bump into Nayeon, a friend you’d made during the freshmen orientation. 

While you were still deciding on whether you should project a more introverted or extroverted personality onto all the new people you’d be meeting in college, Nayeon made the choice for you by taking up your neighbouring seat and starting a conversation with you about the shitty AC in the hall. In less than an hour, you’d already gotten to know all about her eight exes and how two of them almost gave her STDs and one of them almost gave her a whole baby. You were still contemplating which one would have been worse.

“Y/n! Oh, thank god you’re here! Y/nieee, today has been such a nuisance and it’s barely 12 pm!” she cries while sliding her arm in yours as you both start walking in sync towards the college cafeteria.

Hah! 

“You know, Mercury must be in retrograde or something because my day has been awful so far as well,” you say with a downward tilt of your mouth. 

“Oh? Does that have anything to do with your whole ‘I’m 27 years old with no prospects’ cosplay thing you’ve got going on? Lovin’ the limp by the way. It really adds to the whole vibe” she retorts with a cackle. You can’t help but giggle along with her until you remember the reason for your haggard get up.

You haughtily recount your morning’s incident to her and heave up your textbooks, now reduced to a damp and muddy stack of papers.

“Ew, what was his problem?!” she asks and you giggle at her disgusted look. You’re both quiet as you reach the cafeteria and get some food on trays. “C’mon, the gang’s over there,” Nayeon says as she leads you to a table that seats her friends whom you had also briefly met during orientation. 

You take your seat and set your food on the table along with your ruined textbooks. Hoseok peeks a curious look at them, you notice, but he doesn’t say anything. But his curiosity is abundantly loud, so you answer it for him anyway.

“Some turdball knocked me over this morning on my way to class and they dropped right into a puddle,” you say with a pout. 

“Oh? Does that also explain the Mother Nature cosplay you’ve got going on right now?” he replies with a cheeky grin and reaches out to you to pluck out a piece of grass that you hadn’t realised was in your hair

Geez, this is so embarrassing.

“Uh-huh, totally. It’s avant-garde baby.” you retort which sends the table in a fit of giggles, including Hoseok, whose laughter rings louder than the rest. 

“Also, what’s up with you guys and cosplays? Nayeon made a comment earlier too,” you bring up. Somehow, it causes Jimin to spiral into a choking fit and the rest of the group starts knowingly laughing. 

“Oh, you’re gonna LOVE this!” Chae bellows towards you. 

She’s interrupted by Jimin who whines “Chae, for the love of God, can you please shut up about that? It’s literally not even funny anymore!” 

“Oh yes it fucking is! Go on,” Nayeon urges Chae on.

“It’s an inside joke right. When we were in high school, he took part in a random Joker & Harley Quinn cosplay competition with one of our other friends. This idiot here was Harley and he flashed the whole audience with his ass hanging out from under his skirt the whole time!” 

The whole table hollers with laughter, except for a violently blushing Jimin. In between your giggles, you ask Jimin “Did you guys win though?” The table erupts in another round of laughter as Jimin mutter an angry “No.”

“Oh my god, there’s even a video! Nayeon, where’s that video Jungkook took?” Hoseok yells. 

“STOP!” Jimin yells but it’s too late. 

In lighting speed, Nayeon whips out her phone and shows you what truly is Jimin’s ass hanging out from under a skirt as he prances about the stage in true Harley Quinn fashion. There’s another handsome boy next to him dressed in a Joker costume. “That’s our friend, Taehyung, by the way,” Chae adds. 

“Jesus fuck, do you have that video on standby or something? You pulled it out so fast,” Jimin whines at Nayeon. “I have it saved as my live wallpaper babe,” Nayeon replies and sends a flying kiss towards Jimin which earns her a swear thrown at her face in return.

“Hey, where’s Jungkook? His class should have ended by now, right?” Hoseok asks Chae.  

“Hmm yeah, he was in the same class as Y/n actually. Did you see him?” Chae turns to you. Your attention is still focused on the phone in Nayeon’s hand as you reply, “Sorry, I was a little preoccupied to notice. Besides-,” you lift your head to look at her.

“-I don’t even know what he looks like,” you say with a smile.

“Look out for someone who looks like me, duh. I may be cooler than him, but we’re still twins,” Chae teases.

“Well, speak of the devil, here he comes,” Hoseok says and shifts his attention to look over your shoulder. 

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late. I had to sort something out with my lecturer,” an eerily familiar voice says behind you. 

No. 

Fucking. 

Way. 

You don’t want to turn around.

“We gotta head out soon for the . By the way, say hi to Y/n, she’s watching your video of Tae and Jimin at the comic fest,” Hoseok says with a bright smile. 

“Huh? Hmm, kinda weird that you came over just to watch Jimin hyung’s ass reshaping the world’s seat,” the new guy acknowledges you and you feel him approaching from behind. 

“You’re all horrible,” Jimin says.

The table erupts in a fit of giggles and you suddenly feel a warm hand on your shoulder. 

Fuck.

You have to turn around now. 

You’re turning around.

“Hi, I’m Jung-” he stops halfway and his eyes widen as he realises who you are. 

You fake a wide smile and say “Hi Jungkook. I think we’ve met before,” you say harshly and look at him straight in the eyes. You’re pouring every bit of spite you have crawling around your body into this look. And it seems to pay off with how Jungkook gulps loudly and looks at you with doe eyes.

The whole table has turned to witness your interaction now.

“Oh, so you have? Small world huh,” Chae chirps.

What a small world indeed.

Your moments away from blowing a fuse and cussing him out in front of your friends who are watching your interaction, when the unthinkable happens, too fast to be stopped.

Jungkook immediately gets down on his knees in front of you, brings his palms together and shrieks out, “I’M SORRY!”

(∩｀-´)⊃━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

[elliespectacular]

The Deep Webb

A YTP of NASA's 2022 live presentation showcasing the first images taken from the James Webb Space Telescope.

This monumental feat of human discovery was presented to the world in the form of a scuffed livestream where technical errors abound and production repeatedly failed to think on their feet to remedy issues as they came up. Peppered with some charmingly awkward/out-of-touch performances by the various presenters, most of which are astronomers and engineers whom I have the deepest respect for despite it all.

I watched this event as it was broadcast and immediately knew it would make for an excellent YTP source. I was so very correct, and my biggest regret was sitting on it for two years rather than working with it immediately.

Full video with captions here!