#how to book a successful tour

[rich4a1]

From Data to Dollars: How AI Turns Fan Analytics into Revenue Streams

Making a Scene Presents – From Data to Dollars: How AI Turns Fan Analytics into Revenue Streams Being an indie musician today isn’t just about writing great songs or putting on a killer live show. You’re also expected to be your own promoter, merch manager, booking agent, and social media expert—all while somehow finding time to make music. That’s a lot of hats to wear. The good news? You don’t…

[jolenes-book-journey]

How to Promote Your Novel: A Guide to Book Club Takeovers and Virtual Book Tours

How to Promote Your Novel: A Guide to Book Club Takeovers and Virtual Book Tours

As a fiction writer, you’ve poured your heart and soul into crafting your latest masterpiece. Now it’s time to share it with the world! One effective way to promote your book is through book club takeovers and virtual book tours. Let’s dive into these strategies and how you can use them to reach more readers. Book Club Takeovers: A Fun and Interactive Way to Promote Your Book A book club takeover…

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Dating in a Dream - Vil Schoenheit

SUMMARY: What would his dream be like, exactly the same as in the original story, but with the small detail that he is dreaming that you two are dating?

CHARACTERS: Vil Schoenheit x Reader 👑🦐

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; In a Relationship (kinda); Kiss

WARNING: Spoilers from Book 7, Vil’s dream and Vil's Red Carpet Cadets (Eng Server)

WORD COUNT: 6.460 words

COMMENTS: This was written as a companion piece to the original dream story, so the parts that are the same as the game are just summarized.

I hope you enjoy 👑

Dating in a Dream: Idia / Epel / Rook / (Vil) / Kalim / Jamil / Floyd / Jade / Azul / Jack / Ruggie / Leona / ...

“Aether signal tracking successful.” Ortho says when you land in the new dream, along with Grim, Silver, Sebek, Epel and Rook. “We have arrived at the designated coordinates.”

After Silver checks if Rook is feeling okay after the trip from one dream to another, and he said that not only was he great but he was also able to enjoy the view, you all realize you're not in Night Raven College, or even anywhere on Sage's Island. Where were you?

Rook recognizes the entrance arch that says ‘Queen's Film Studios’. Acording to him, you were in Maquillaville, in the Shaftlands. And if you know anyone with ties to this place... That person just emerged from inside the studio to be met with a huge group of screaming fans at the entrance.

You see Vil in new clothes, a hat and sunglasses signing autographs and taking pictures with fans. You also see the dreamer's silver bird around his head. But shortly afterward he excused himself and returned to the studios.

“He really is... THE FAIREST ONE OF ALL!” the fans scream.

“I KNOW!” Rook joins them. “Even the most sparkling gems lose their luster compared to his beauty.”

After that, while everyone is talking about that dream and how it doesn't seem much different from Vil's real life, Grim decides to enter the studio premises and follow him to find out more. You all follow Grim because it’s better to stay together and also not to stray too far from the dreamer.

You lost track of Grim and the studio premises were so big that you couldn't find him or Vil anywhere.

“Hey, you. Why didn't you bring a parasol?” You hear Vil's familiar voice and tone complaining.

It was coming from inside one of the studios so you follow it. You find Grim, also spying on what was going on inside. When Sebek starts to speak, Grim jumps up to cover his mouth with his paw and tell him not to talk so loud. You all peek inside the studio.

“I'm fairly certain I told you to always bring a parasol whenever I spend more than five minutes outdoors, did I not?” Vil was telling someone you couldn't tell who it was.

“Ah, I'm sorry. I forgot it in the car.” The other person responds clearly regretfully.

“Unbelievable. What kind of assistant are you? And there's more...”

Vil keeps complaining to his assistant about finding trash on the floor of his dressing room and fingerprints on the mirror. Despite the assistant's apologies Vil calls him a "Useless boy!" before telling him to go get cleaning equipment to get that floor and mirror sparkling. The assistant complies with the order and runs out of the studio, where ends up bumping into Rook. And this is when you discover that the assistant was none other than Neige LeBlanche.

“Excuse me.” Vil comes to see what's going on. “Why are you making a racket in... Huh?! Who are you people?!”

You come closer to tell him that you are just students.

“(Y/N)?!” Vil recognizes you, but he's more shocked to see you there than to come face to face with a bunch of supposed strangers. “Students? What are you doing with students? And what are they doing inside the studio? I hadn't heard there were any tours scheduled.”

“Take a closer look, Vil!” Grim says. “See anyone else familiar?”

“Oh, ick! what's this filthy stray cat doing here?”

“Mrah?! Stray cat?! You recognize my hench-human but you don't recognize me?!”

“Hench-human? Are you referring to (Y/N)? Who do you think you are to address them that way? Actually, who do you think you are to address them at all? (Y/N), come here.”

You walk over to him, mainly because maybe if you follow what he says you can find out more about what's going on in his dream. When you get close enough he takes your hand to gently pull you to his side, but slightly behind him.

“Stop being insulting and talking nonsense...” He keeps talking to Grim. “Hey! Keep your dirty paws off me. You'll get fur on my clothes. Shoo! Shoo!”

“Vil!” You say, shocked at the way he is treating Grim. “What are you saying? Why are you treating him like this?”

Vil turns to you and whispers just to you: “You can't simply walk around hanging out with just anyone. Firstly because you don't know these people, and secondly because your standards should be much higher. You can't be so naive and let your guard down so easily. What were you thinking?” He turns back to the group. “I suppose there ARE troublesome fans out there who can't distinguish fantasy from reality. For that matter, how long have you been eavesdropping on me?”

“Since you started yelling at your assistant for not bringing you a parasol.” Silver simply admits.

“So the entire time, is what you're telling me? Ugh, unbelievable. Aha, I think I get it now - you're all paparazzi disguised as students. You're probably looking to besmirch my beautiful reputation. And you even have the audacity to deceive and take advantage of (Y/N)'s kindness. Well, you'll be doing no such thing.”

Vil glared at Neige.

“You! This is yet another result of you failing to have your act together as my assistant. What will you do if my carefully cultivated reputation gets dragged through the mud?! Or worse, what if something happens to (Y/N)?!”

“I... I'm terribly sorry, sir!”

“Vil! They are my friends!” You say quickly. “Grim has always been with me. How come you only remember me?”

“Grim? Are you talking about that stray... whait... Grim...? And you...?”

The bond between the two of you is so strong that even Vil's imagination is having trouble explaining how you and Grim wouldn't know each other. And his head starts to hurt.

“You don’t think that Paparazzi would use mind control on someone if one of them was a mage, do you, Vil?” Neige says, but in a somewhat strange way. “And surely the stone in the kitten's bow is just a harmless pendant... or is it?”

Vil’s head stops hurting and he pauses for a second, in complete shock.

“Eject these mosquitos from the premises at once, and contact security immediately!”

“Yes, sir! Right away, sir!”

“As for you people” He turns to the group. “You'll see what happens if you dare to post online about what you eavesdropped on today. I'll use every means at my disposal to force-feed you all poison apples. And...” Vil's tone became darker, “If you used any kind of spell on (Y/N), I will create a new poison just for you. So deadly that waking from a slumber won't even be an option.”

Neige leads the rest of the group to the exit gate, while Vil puts an arm around you to lead you into the studio. You hear Grim whimper your name.

Vil takes you to his dressing room, a place as luxurious as you could imagine he would dream of. You ask what's going on but he seems to ignore you and cups your face with his hands. His face very close to yours and his gaze searching your eyes.

“Your eyes look normal.” Vil says still analyzing your face. “Did you eat anything they gave you? Open your mouth.”

You look away and gently push Vil away with your arms, saying that he is overreacting and that they didn't do anything to you. Vil sighs.

“Stay here. I'll call a mage doctor. I won't be long.”

With the greatest of casualness, he kisses your forehead and leaves the dressing room, leaving you alone inside. You hear the door latch. Your reflex is to try to open the door and that's how you confirm that he locked you inside. At that moment you start receiving messages on your phone. They’re from Idia.

«Hey, don't try to wake Vil up alone. It's dangerous while the party is separated. Especially since you can’t use magic to protect yourself from the darkness. Try to know what your role is in Vil's dream and act on it. If the darkness doesn't see you as a threat to the stability of the dream, in principle, it will not attack you.»

You tell him what happened and that Vil went to call a mage doctor.

«I see. I'll access the doctor's code and have them say that you're fine, but that your memories of Vil have been affected. That way you can ask him questions to better understand your relationship with him without him suspecting that something is wrong. Btw, be careful with Neige.»

After a minute, Idia sends you a message saying that Vil and the doctor should be on their way. After that you hear footsteps approaching the door and it being unlocked.

After examining you, the doctor said what Idia programmed them to say. When Vil hears the doctor say that your memories with him have been affected, he seems worried for a split second, but then quickly returns to his stoic demeanor. The doctor adds that it is not a serious loss and that he will only need to answer the questions you have for him to start improving and recovering your memory completely. This time, Vil doesn't hide his relief. And to take more blame off you, the doctor said that your memory loss was due to inhaling some potion in a gaseous state, and that you probably haven't even interacted with those people before that.

After the doctor leaves the dressing room and closes the door behind them, Vil takes you to the couch and sits on it with you. He cups your face again to make you look at him.

“What do you remember about me?” he asks with some sadness in both his voice and his beautiful face. “You seem to know who I am at least.”

He takes his hands off your face and you tell him what you remember: that you know who and what he is. Vil Schoenheit, a super famous actor and model.

“Well... yes... that's pretty much what anyone could know about me. This is better than nothing, but is there anything you know about me that you think no one else might knows?”

Since Vil doesn't remember Rook, your chances increase significantly. But what could you say? You already know that in his dream he was never an NRC student. Much less the Housewarden of Pomefiore. Your options weren't many, but what about...

“Your father is Erik Venue. But you don't want people to know because you don't want them to think that all your success is just nepotism. You want to achieve things through hard work and by truly deserving them.”

Vil starts by smiling, until he llaughs heartwarmingly, something rare, and maybe for that reason absolutely beautiful. He holds your face still with one hand on one cheek while he kisses the other affectionately.

“It seems that not much was lost.” He says with a genuine smile. “I think I should be the one letting you ask the questions now, shouldn't I?”

Finally! The first thing you ask is what is the relationship between the two of you? After all, how come you were the only one he remembered? Were you two friends?

“Friends? Well, I believe that too.” He gives you a sad smile. “We... are a couple. I am your boyfriend.” He laughs at your surprised reaction. “I know, it's hard to believe that out of everyone I chose you to be my beloved. Many would question that...” He pauses and then becomes serious again. “And that's why our relationship is secret. Your arrival in this world is still recent. You still need time to adjust. I didn't want you to have to deal with fame and media pressure at the same time.”

“So... I really came from another world. That is still the same... as I remember, I mean...” You say, but if he has never been to NRC... “But how did we meet?”

Vil’s gaze becomes even sadder.

“I had been cast as a student at an prestigious arcane academy for a new series. One of the props for the school was a replica of the Fairest Queen's mirror. But there was some mix-up and instead of a fake replica being delivered to the studio, a real one was delivered instead. And in the middle of filming you simply appeared out of that mirror that everyone thought was fake.” He chuckles. “I still remember the commotion.”

So your arrival in Twisted-Wonderland was an unforeseen event during the filming of a new series he was on. You were going to ask what happened next, but someone knocked on the dressing room door. Vil says they can come in and after the door opens you see Neige.

“What do you want?” Vil automatically became ruder when he saw who it was. “If you’re not here to notify me of an emergency then don't waste my time.”

“The... That group of students has already been expelled from the studio premises. And... um... the director is calling for you... to film the next scene...”

Vil sighs and places his fingers on the bridge of his nose for a moment. After thinking for a second he looks at Neige dissatisfied. “I won't leave them in your incompetent care again.” He gets up from the sofa and extends his hand to you. “Come with me.”

You give him your hand and he helps you up gentlemanly, then he offers you his arm so you can intertwine yours with his and the two of you leave the dressing room together. Neige immediately moves out of your way, practically in fear. And you felt bad about it.

“You really can't just not care about him, can you?” Vil says, almost disappointed. He sighs. “I never knew if that was a quality or a defect. Leave him be. He failed his duties. His carelessness put you in danger and made you lose important memories. Know that he is very lucky that I didn't do something worse to him than simply being... stricter than normal.” He was speaking softly despite how angry Neige actually made him, or at least that Neige.

When you arrived at the scene he told you to sit in his chair and if you needed anything you could just ask the staff. You stood there watching the recordings and whatever you asked for, someone from the staff would bring it to you, even if it was the most absurd thing. After all, it was a dream. But you didn't abuse it too much. You couldn't risk waking Vil up yet.

While filming was taking place, you received updates from the others and all the discrepancies and differences between the real world and that dream world. Vil had gotten a lot of lead roles since he was little, instead os the antagonist roles. And Neige wasn’t an actor in this dream world, so he was no competition for Vil. In response you tell them what you discovered about your relationship with Vil. They didn't respond for a long time, so you asked if something had happened. Epel was the one exchanging messages with you.

«Sorry. We were too shocked. I mean surprised. Rook already knew. By the way, he isfwerd»

«Oh, I can't wait to see the two of you together! I know you make an absolutely beautiful couple. I'm going to return the phone to Epel now. Sorry for the interruption.»

«I hope this isn't too uncomfortable for you. Rook is smiling weirdly. Wait! Do you like Vil too? It wouldn't be a big surprise. You would have good taste at least. Wait, what am I saying?! Back to the plan to wake him up!...”

Later that day was the Diamond Movie Awards, where Rook assumed that Vil would win the award for Best Actor. In the real world, Neige was the youngest actor to win this award at age 14. Vil wanted to be him, so he must dream about it. They would infiltrate the awards staff and use the loudspeakers. You would just need to stay safe until then.

“Hi (Y/N).” Someone greets you sweetly. You look up from your phone and find Neige smiling at you, which is then replaced by an expression of guilt. “I'm sorry for what happened. I shouldn't have left you alone. I heard you lost memories of Vil because of this. I'm so sorry... *sniff*”

He was being so sweet that you even felt sorry for him. Especially remembering how Vil treated him. You say everything is fine and that you forgive him. He smiles at you, weakly, and asks if there is anything he can do for you.

“You may call our driver.” Vil says to Neige as he approaches the two of you. “Filming is over. We'll be heading to the Queen's Palace for the Diamond Movie Awards ceremony.”

“Y-yes, sir. Right away.” Neige steps back to make the call.

Vil extends his hand to you for you to take and stand up. He looks you up and down.

“Oh, right, you're still wearing that uniform. Let us change it, shall we?” With a snap of his fingers Vil uses magic to change your uniform into beautiful clothes. A dress if you prefer. This also gives you the makeup you like the most to use and a hairstyle that suits you perfectly. “Much better.” he comments. “Much more suited to your beauty.”

“The driver is now heading to the usual location.” Neige informs you. “We can go now if you want. Oh! (Y/N), those clothes look beautiful on you.”

“Of course they do.” Vil retorts. “I would never allow them to dress in less than the best for them.”

The three of you go to a place away from the main entrance where Vil's fans were all, where a beautiful and luxurious, but relatively discreet car awaits you. The driver is standing outside and opens the door for you and Vil to get in and sit in the back seats. Neige goes to the passenger seat.

“You're looking around like it's the first time you've sat in this car.” Vil chuckles. “You must have forgotten about these trips as well. But I can't say it's a bad thing. That enchanted look of yours always suits you beautifully. Do you still remember what the Diamond Movie Awards are?”

Rook had told you via message what they were. The biggest awards in cinema and how much Vil wanted to win the award for Best Actor. You tell Vil this and he looks pleased.

“I hope you're not nervous. After all, I am the one who is nominated. But remember, our relationship is secret, okay? You will accompany me along with LeBlanche as one of my assistants. And don't worry, after today, you and recovering your lost memories will be my top priority.” he comes close and kisses your forehead. “When we arrive we will have to separate on the red carpet. Follow LeBlanche and we'll meet at the entrance later, understood? And don't talk to strangers!”

If you look at him annoyed because it seems like he's treating you like a child, he'll laugh.

“Call me overprotective if you wish, but I won't allow anyone with bad intentions to even come close to you again.” he says seriously and determined. “At least not until your memory returns and we find a way to protect you against other possible magical threats.”

He looks out the window and realizes that you are arriving. He looks back at you with a tender look.

“You know, even though I don't believe in acts of good luck, you insisted that we have one between us. Do you remember?” He gets a little sad when he sees you reply that you don't. “It's a little cliché too. I learned to appreciate them with you. A good luck kiss. It may not have any power to bring good luck, because I don't need it, but I can not deny that it makes me happy and improves my mood even more, which is reflected in the photos. I understand if you don't feel comfortable doing it, I don't know how amenesia might be affecting you at the moment. But know that nothing would make me happier than receiving a kiss from you today. Even on days when I don't win an award, your kiss always reminds me that I have already received the greatest award of all. Oh, no, not you, I meant...” he looks slightly embarrassed about what he's going to say next. “At least what I believe it to be... True love... But don't worry, I don't need a kiss to know this. However, it's always a nice thing to receive.” he smiles confidently.

You feel the car slowing down. You were arriving. As he reminds you to follow Neige, you decide to give him what he wanted. You interrupt him with a kiss on the lips and feel him smile. When you part you see his amethyst eyes looking at yours smugly.

“I see you haven't forgotten your cheekiness. No one else has the audacity to even interrupt me. Such a lack of manners. We'll have to deal with that later.” However, he was smiling the whole time. He comes closer as if he's going to kiss you again, but instead he speaks with his lips almost touching yours. “You also forgot a rule I have with you. You're only allowed to smudge my makeup after all my work is done. And I still have an award to win.”

He finally pulls his face away from yours to grab a mirror and check his lips. He smiled when he saw that his lipstick was still flawless.

“I don't know if this lipstick has more quality than I thought or if is just you that are very skilled. Let us go with bouth.”

The car stops in front of the entrance to the red carpet.

“Thank you.” he tells you tenderly. “I'll meet you inside, my love.”

Both the driver and Neige got out of the car. The driver to open Vil's door and Neige to open yours. While Vil went out to be photographed and filmed on the red carpet, you went out with Neige on another path to the interior of the Queen's Palace.

As soon as you and Neige arrived inside, you were led directly to your seats. Neige told you to leave the seat between you two empty for Vil. He would want to sit next to you. What he did as soon as he arrived.

The awards ceremony takes place as normal until the time comes to present the award for best actor. Which is, unsurprisingly, announced to Vil. At the podium, where you and Neige were also because you had accompanied Vil, the voice over the speakers begins to describe Vil's acting career, but not the one he was dreaming of having. Rook was describing his real career including the fact that he was only cast for antagonist roles.

“What is the emcee saying? They're getting my career history all wrong! This mean-spirited joke on a happy occasion has gone on long enough. Someone cut that speaker off right now!”

Rook mentions Night Raven College and the movie club and this makes Vil start to remember.

“My filming schedule is tight as it is. How would I have time to go to some boarding school on an island way out in - Hrk! ... My head...! How do I know where it's located, and what kind of school it is...?”

“Because that's where we really met, Vil.” you tell him. “That school, the mirror, none of that was a movie, it was real. And you weren't cast in the role of a student, you were one of the students! And not just any student, you were a housewarden, the...”

“Housewarden of Pomefiore” Rook says in unison with you. “The dorm based upon the Faires Queen's spirit of tenacity! Our own fair queen, our Roi du Poison!”

Rook and Epel reveal themselves, dressed in their Pomefiore uniforms, which makes Vil start to remember them. And his headaches come back.

“Vil, are you all right?!” Neige rush to him. “Hurry, someone call an ambulance! Security, what are you doing?! Eject these intruders immediately!”

All the people in the audience started to turn into black, goopy figures, and Vil was being swept away by a sea of darkness, separating him from you, Rook and Epel. And then, another dark figure suddenly formed.... a copy of you.

“Vil, are you okay, my dear?” That darkness version of you said to him in a soft, loving tone. “Everything is fine. Just focus on me. Focus on us...”

“Here it is...” Neige said to him. “The Best Actor trophy you've always wanted. Look, it's all gold and sparkly... isn't it pretty?”

“Yes... It is... This is what I've always wanted. Proof that I'm the best in the world...”

Meanwhile, the dark figures had reached you and as the others faced them, the shadows prevented Vil from seeing you. No matter how much you or the others shouted, Vil didn't hear you either.

“Heheheh. That's it. Just stay here, and you can be the best in the world forever and ever, all without having to put in any work.” Neige continued. “You won't have to do any rigorous training or follow any tedious skincare routines to maintain your beauty.”

“And I will always be by your side.” Your darkness lookalike added. “To give you all the love you deserve, unconditionally. To be your safe place. The final crucial piece of your perfect happily ever after. Just like in those fairy tales.”

“You... (Y/N)... I never needed to compete for your love... You just... make me so happy... and rested... My... happily ever after...”

“And I will continue to make you feel loved... Just worthy of being loved... Without worrying about being perfect... Now and forever, my fairest one of all... So... Go on, Vil. Just close your eyes... and stay here with me.”

Seeing that Vil is going to let himself sink into the darkness, Rook uses his signature spell, I See You, so he can find Vil later. And Vil disappears, along with the dark versions of you and Neige.

After getting rid of the darkness figures that were attacking you, you all jump into the black goop after Vil.

You ended up on the interior of the Night Raven College coliseum, where you find Neige lying unconscious on the floor, while his friends cry wondering what happened. This was a reenactment of what happened on the day of the SDC, but what would have happened, or what Vil wanted to have happened, if Neige had drunk the poison apple juice he gave him. Epel uses his signature spell, Sleep Kiss, to stabilize Neige before you all run onto the stage.

The title of SDC winners was being awarded to Night Raven College and all the students who participated with Vil were celebrating, Ace, Deuce, Jamil, Kalim, even Epel and Rook. But there was something disturbing about them, their faces were flat and their skin was that black goop.

You and the others run up to him and shout Vil's name to get his attention. Seeing two Rooks and two Epels helped make Vil start to realize that something wasn't right. They remind Vil that they didn't win the SDC, they came second, they lost to Neige and Royal Sword Academy.

The shadowy figures tried to convince Vil to believe in the reality of the dream, that Neige felt unwell and so he and his friends had to withdraw from the competition. But Rook continued, reminding him of what really happened that day, how the plan to poison Neige had failed and how Vil had not been able to forgive himself for even trying to do so.

But perhaps it was this pain that made him realize what true beauty is, and what led him to the events on the Island of Woe. Where he displayed utter beauty beyond any other! And when he proclaimed, “At this exact moment, I am the fairest one of all!”

This is what makes Vil finally remember, break the dream around him and wake up. He thanks you all and hugs Rook and Epel. He looks at you, but just when it seems like he's going to say something to you or even ask you to join the hug, the ground starts to shake and the sky cracking open. You all prepare to evacuate yourselves to the dreamway, but darkness catches Vil. And unfortunately, in order for you to save yourselves, you have to leave Vil behind. Regardless of your attempts to save him.

In the dreamway:

If you, like Rook and Epel, want to go back to the dream to save Vil:

Then you will be one more person for the rest of the group to contain and prevent from going back to that dream until it is safe. “Oh, Trickster, how I understand your aching heart.” Rook says, surprisingly calming down a little. “But now your desire to run into danger to save your loved one puts me in a difficult situation.” “What? What do you mean?” Epel questions. “And why did you suddenly stopped fighting to come back?” “Because now, dear pommette, we both have a dilemma on our hands.” Epel looks confused and Rook continues. “On one hand, we must save our Queen. But on the other... We must protect our Queen's Beloved!” “Well, there are two of us.” Epel says with a smug smile. “One tries to get back there and the other stops (Y/N) from getting back there.” “That seems to define a hypocritical action.” Ortho points it out. Epel recognizes this and becomes frustrated. You'll have to wait until the dream stabilizes again, but the three of you are restless and try to return to the dream every 10 seconds.

If you are calm like the rest of the group despite your worry:

“How can you be so calm!?” Epel questions you, outraged. “It's Vil who's trapped there! I thought you liked him too!” “Epel!” Rook censors him, patiently. “It is not because one is calm that they aren't suffering. None of us deal with desperate situations in the same way. And that must not invalidate others feelings.” “Urg! ... I... I’m sorry, (Y/N)...” Epel says regretfully. You explain to them why you are calm. You know that was the only solution. Just like the Shroud brothers explained, either you left Vil behind and tried to save everyone, or you stayed behind and ran the risk of something happening to one of you and never waking up again. “Besides...” You continue. “Vil is already awake. Don't tell me you think your Fair Queen isn't capable of facing whatever comes her way now?” “A... A....” Rook's eyes start to water. “ABSOLUE BEAUTÉ!” Even Epel gets startled by that shout. “The way you soothe your worries by having faith and trust in him!” He actually starts to cry emotionally. “There are no words to describe the beauty of your love! I should treat you like royalty as well!” Epel agrees with Rook, but starts to feel a little embarrassed by the situation and tries to tell him to calm down.

As soon as you all return to Vil's dream and see him safe and sound in front of the Queen's Palace, Rook and Epel immediately run to hug him.

If you, like Rook and Epel, were so worried about him that you wanted to go back to the dream to save him, you also run to him to hug him.

Rook and Epel move away a little so that the hug is mostly between the two of you and they are hugging you both. The others comment on how difficult it was to keep the three of you away from the dream to save him. Rook tells him how he was torn between returning to the dream or keeping you safe. “I hope you know what I would have told you to do.” Vil says. “To protect (Y/N) at all costs.” Rook answers with certainty. “Even if you have to lose me to do so.” Vil adds, in such a serious way that even Rook is a little surprised. “And you!” he tells you, as if he is upset. “You don't have magical powers, you would be in more danger than me. Never put yourself in that kind of situation, understand!” After a second, he sighs and smiles. “Thank you... to all of you.”

If you were calm in the dreamway:

The others comment on how difficult it was to keep Rook and Epel away from the dream to save him. He laughs at it. “Oh, Vil, I must admit” Rook tells him. “The faith and trust that (Y/N) has in you are simply magnifiques! They remained calm the whole time because they believed you were strong enough to face anything. *sniff* B-beauté...” “Are you going to start crying again?” Epel laughs, as does Vil. Vil saw you standing there looking at them, clearly wanting to join in the hug, but respectfully staying back. After finishing the hug with Rook and Epel, Vil approaches you. “Are you really going to say you weren't worried at all?” He asks with a smirk. Of course you were worried, but you knew it was something he would have to face alone. The best thing you could do was keep yourself and the others safe while he ‘sorted out this problem’. “But I knew you would be strong enough.” You add. “I mean, if even Idia could defeat the darkness...” Vil laughs with you. “A lot of smugness for someone who would be swallowed up by the darkness if it weren't for people who can actually use magic. Whehe-” Idia suddenly notices Vil looking at the tablet he was speaking through in a scary and threatening way. “HICK!” You tell Vil that it's okay, after all, you started it. He smiles at you in response.

“Wait...” Vil says to you, thinking. “I’m just now realizing something. The part of the dream where you were with me after supposedly losing your memory. This was after you all showed up, and you were with the group. So... does that mean...” he widens his eyes. “Was it YOU? The real you? All that time?”

You confirm. If you thought the clothes he gave you didn't already give you away, you look at them and see that you were wearing your school uniform. Your clothes must have gone back to normal when Vil woke up.

“In that case...” Vil regains his composure. “Would you allow me to speak to you alone for a moment?”

“If it's about you and (Y/N) dating in the dream, you don't have to worry, we already have that information.” Ortho says, casually.

Vil's eyebrows rise in surprise for a split of a second, but then he quickly returns to his composure.

“Even so, I would still like to discuss this matter with (Y/N), alone.” He simply put a little more emphasis on the last word, but it was enough to make everyone take a step back. He looks at you. “Since this is a dream, why don't we talk inside the Queen's Palace? If you wish.”

You agree and the two of you walk away from the group to enter the beautiful building. After Vil made sure you were in a place where the others could neither hear nor see you, he stops you and stands in front of you.

“(Y/N)...” he tells you very seriously. "At any moment, did I do or say anything that made you uncomfortable?"

He asks this clearly worried and regretful, but instead of you saying yes or no, you had that expression of someone wondering how to explain the truth. Knowing you, he realized what that hesitation really meant.

“You can tell me whatever you need.” he says with a beautiful, gentle smile, which is relatively rare in him when it’s a true one. “I behaved very... relaxed with you... I owe the same to you now.”

You tell him. You say you didn't feel exactly uncomfortable, on the contrary. In your own way, you tell him what you really felt all that time, and end up confessing that your feelings are mutual.

“But, I mean...” You tell him. “You must be used to people having a crush on you...”

“I am, indeed. But there is a great difference between those fans and you.” Even if you consider yourself a fan of mine like the others, unlike them, you know me for who I truly am. Ugly sides and all. You didn't meet me as the actor and model Vil Schoenheit. You meet me as that bossy and probably superficial Housewarden of Pomefiore.” he smiles smugly, especially seeing your guilty reaction.

“You knew me at my lowest...” he continues. “And stayed. Not only that, but you also went into the depths of S.T.Y.X. with Rook and Epel. Even knowing it wasn't just for me, it was good to see that you were as happy to see me as they were... And...” He is silent for a second, remembering the moment he wanted to talk to you about and you saw a new loving look in his eyes. “... after what I did... after what I became by saving Idia... I remember looking at you and seeing... a look you had never given me before, when I was... when I looked beautiful. That really changed the way you saw me, didn't it? Well, it also changed the way I saw you. My outer beauty doesn't really have as much of an effect on you as my inner beauty, does it?”

Vil gets closer to you and caresses your face.

“What a coincidence, I feel the same way about you.” his hand slides to your chin to tilt your head up and he smirks. “If your outside matched your inside...” He brings his face closer to yours and speaks a little more quietly and seductively. “You would be more stunning than any model I have ever seen... I think I will take this as a personal challenge. I want everyone to be able to see why I fell in love with you.”

His lips were practically touching yours, but he wasn't kissing you. He was teasing you... Tempting you... You decide to do what he wanted and you kiss him. You can feel his lips forming a smile as he reciprocates the intensity of your kiss.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[ninikrumbs]

I cant say no

Sukuna x reader. Mafiaau. When you found yourself kidnapped by the enemy, falling inlove with your captor was not part of the plan. Inspire by the song Falling for the Villian by Peggy.

Mafia boss Sukuna held you hostage. He had somehow managed to kidnap you from a your family and now there was a horrible war going on between the two most powerful families within the city. The attempts to rescue you were futile as no one has ever been successful in infiltrating his walls. You hope you’re family would be the first.

When you first arrived in front of his tall and daunting mansion in the middle of god knows where, you braced yourself for metal bars, cold cement and a decaying corpse next you—a vision if what lies ahead. Instead you were met with a big beautiful, sun lit room, a queen size bed, and your own bathroom. You half expected it to be some sort of joke, maybe they’d let you sleep in here for the night then throw you in the dungeons tomorrow.

Sukuna, obviously seeing your hesitant and confused expression, merely scoffed. “What? Not enough cobwebs?”

Before you could answer, he walks away. His right hand man creeps silently beside you, voice unconcerned, “The boss is more generous than you think.”

Your lips curve into what you were hoping was a small smile, but ended up as a grimace. “Right..”

And right they were. You’re stay has been rather.. pleasant. You were given three meals a day and even complimentary snacks like small cakes and macaroons in between. The closet was filled with luxury brands, bathroom full of expensive makeup and skincare. You had full access to his library, gym, gardens and everywhere else except for few prohibited rooms that Uraume showed you during your tour.

It was very pleasant and you hate it. You hate to think that your family was out there worried to death about you and you’re here drinking freshly squeeze juice. You must have sighed a little too loudly when a deep voice rumbles into your ears. “That book must be terrible.”

Carmine eyes gaze back at you, arms crossed with his broad frame leaning against the window sill you sat upon. The setting sun reflected in his eyes, giving them a lighter hue. His tattooed covered arms captured you’re eyes for a second longer.

Another thing you hate. How beautiful you’re captor was. Handsome. Deadly. It enraptured you. And it felt wrong to see the man who took away your freedom this way.

You gaze down at the book you’ve barely read and closed it.”It’s not. I just have a lot on my mind.”

He tilts his head, appraising you for a second before shoving his hands in his pockets, turning his back to you. “If you need anything. Don’t hesitate it to tell Uraume. They’ll get you anything.”

He starts to leave, but you’re question stops him. “Why?”

Turning his head, “Why what?”

“Why are you so nice to me?”

It might be stupid to question the good treatment you’ve received. Anyone else would just stay quiet and grateful. But this has been nagging you since you got here.

He smirks, slowly trudging towards you, eyes sharp like a predator towards it’s prey. In a second he towers over you from where you’re sitting, close enough that you can smell his citrusy scent and something else completely Sukuna. Your grip on the book tightens as you look up at him.

“Would you rather I stick you in some prison or shackle you to a pillar?” His voice, rough and deep.

“Well no, but I wasn’t expecting the royal treatment either.”

Your answer makes him laugh, a deep throaty laugh which you hate cause it makes your toes curl and stomach flutter and you want to hear it again and again.

“You’re really something, aren’t you, brat? It’s the first time I hear someone complain about not getting tortured.”

“I’m not complaining!” You began, “It’s just strange. You’re strange.”

Every story you have ever heard of him gave you no reason to believe that he’d be a person with morals. Described as cruel and heartless, not a single kind bone in his body. Tilting his head, he huffs, “Strange huh?”

Sukuna runs a hand through his pink hair, before poking your forehead with his finger, “Listen, brat. I don’t care what those bastards told you—they’re probably true anyways. But I’m not a fucking demon.”

He turns to leave again, but not before lowly adding, “Not all the time at least..”

His large frame disappear into a corner. Leaving you once again with your thoughts.

The next time you see him is in the kitchen after dinner as you were laughing at something Uraume said. The two of you had gotten quite close considering they were the only person allowed to interact with you.

You caught him looking at you with a strange expression. “Do you need to talk to Uraume?”

He nods and you jump from your stool to make yourself scarce, but a hand catches your wrist, pulling back to sit on the stool.

Unreadable eyes glanced at you as he sat beside you around the kitchen island. “Stay.”

You had half the mind to say “Woof!” But decided against it.

To your surprise Sukuna started discussing about strategies and war tactics. Was he not scared that you’d manage to escape and babble? Or was he so sure that you were never getting out of here?

Amidst you’re rambling thoughts, Sukuna absentmindedly takes a strand if your hair and twirls it between his fingers, his rough voice still carrying around the kitchen. The gesture makes the back if your neck heat up as you gaze at him questioningly, yet the pays no mind. When the conversation ends, he glances at you, your hair still in hand.

Something on your face makes the edges of his lips tip, then he proceeds to lean down and presses his lips to your hair. It catches you off guard, and you think your forget how to breath. You feel your blood rush to your cheeks as your heart stutters.

“What are you doing?”

His smile widened into a smug grin, as if he knew exactly how he was making you feel “Just wanted to know If it was as soft as I thought.”

The sentence only makes you more flustered.

Finally, he stands up, hair falling away from his hands. He let’s out an amused huff, “Good night, brat.”

The next few days were just as perplexing. Sukuna was an enigma. You’ve heard him bark orders, demand peoples deaths like he was talking about the weather. Devoid of any conscience or guilt. Yet, he catches you in the library one day. You were up high on one if the ladders and he demands you to get down because you’ll get hurt if you fall, then proceeds to read a book opposite to you in one if the cozy arm chairs.

You couldn’t figure him out at all. He’d flirt with you, treat you kindly, still he had no plans on giving you back to your family. Of course, you’re maybe just a pawn to him, but he could have chosen to not interact with you at all. It was confusing and immensely terrible for your heart.

You didn’t want to admit it at first, but he had gotten under your skin. He was not as bad as you expected, in fact he was the complete opposite. You looked forward to seeing him, his rare smiles, and even rarer laughter. His big intimidating presence which made grown men run for the hills, made you feel at ease and safe. Which was the last thing you should be feeling. It went against everything you believed in. Especially when you’re family is out there dying in this stupid war with him.

You can’t go around falling in love with the monster they’re trying to save you from.

Is what you told yourself.

Yet as you stand by the doorway to the living room. Sukuna all bruised up and bloody from a confrontation with your family. You couldn’t stop the worry enveloping your body. He hasn’t gotten any treatment as he asked the doctors to treat those with more critical injuries. Your hand twitches with the urge to just go hold his face to see how bad his injuries really are. Is the blood on his shirt his own?

Suddenly, a hand on your back pushes you making you stumble forward. “Uraume?”

They nod at you, face passive as ever, “Go.”

Your eyes widened before pursing your lips, hands curling unto your dress as you nod. “Thanks, Uraume.”

Is this the dumbest decision you ever made? Probably. Were you gonna regret this? Most likely. But you were done saying no to this. Trying to fight the inevitable. You were falling for him and you couldn’t stop it even if you tried.

“Sukuna,” You breath, sitting down on the sofa with him, first aid kit on your lap. His scarlet eyes take you in with an unreadable expression as you began preparing. You had a warm cloth with you to wipe the blood away.

You lean up at him to study his face. He had a a cut on his cheek and eyebrow, a bloody bruise on the edge if his mouth. “This is gonna hurt a little.”

His eyes trace your face before finally letting out an amused huff. Your hand reaches up to gently dab the cloth on his bloody lips when his hands grabs your hips and places you in his lap. You squeal out in surprise, hands landing on his shoulders to stabilise yourself.

Strong arms wrap around you waist and back, as he looks up at you mischievously, “Isnt this easier?”

The closeness makes it hard to focus, all too aware of his skin on yours. Flustered you yell, “Sukuna, stop fooling around! I’m trying to help you.”

Though you make no indication if standing up. He grins, “And I’m trying to make sure you don’t strain that pretty neck.”

“I swear you give him an inch he takes a mile” You mumble beneath your breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Taking a deep breath, you start tending to his wounds with utmost care and focus. At least trying to, it was kinda hard when Sukunas eyes won’t stop staring at your face.

“Stop staring.”

“Were you worried about me?”

You both say at the same time. His question making you almost dab disinfectant in his eye. “What?! No way.” He didn’t looked like he believed you from the smirk on his lips, and to be honest you wouldn’t believe you either.

A second passes and you sigh, “Yes, I was.”

His eyes widened a fraction, probably not expecting me to be honest. “I see.”

For some reason, he starts gently playing with the ends of your hair at your back. It sends tingles up your spine, and you try not to let it distract you. “Falling in love with me or something?”

Your breath caught up in your lungs, your hand stopping mid air, gaze dropping from his eyes,”Do-don’t be ridiculous.”

What an obvious lie. It was quiet for a moment before he grazes his fingers up your spine making you shiver as his hands lands on the back if your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek. You meet his eyes and the look on his face surprises you. His carmine eyes were soft filled with something akin to reverence. He tilts his head closer, eyes dropping to your your lips, “Tell me no.”

“I can’t.” You whisper against his lips. His breath stutters before pushing your lips to his, devouring you in one kiss. You whimper into the kiss, melting into him making you drop the tweezers, choosing to hold on to his shoulders instead. He kisses you like a man starved, like he’s been wanting to do it for such a long time and now he doesn’t want to stop.

“Sukuna..” you murmur in between kisses.

“What?” He groans against you lips, not wanting to pull away.

“There are people here,” You glance at the people around and strangely enough no one was looking at the both if you.

“I don’t care.” He pulls you flush against him and into another breathtaking kiss. Lips pressing against yours so intensely.

“Kuna.” You try again, pushing his chest lightly.

He unwillingly pulls away, “Kuna? What kind of nickname is that?”

“Its cute and I need to breath, plus we can’t irritate the wound on your lips.”

Your lips are still tingling from his kisses, you had to bite back the grin from how giddy you were feeling. Sukuna leans back, “It’s fine. I have had worse.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

You cup his face, then lean down to press a gently kiss to the corner of his lips without the wound. “I just don’t like seeing you hurt.”

His hand covers your smaller one, pressing a kiss to your palm. “I’ll try.”

“Really?”

Nodding, he pulls you to lean your head on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat beneath his clothes. “Turns out, I can’t say no to you either, brat.”

A smile blooms on your face as you snuggle into him. Despite looming grey cloud in your future, you decide to ignore the endless questions at the back of your mind and stay in this moment. Basking in the safety of his arms a little longer. Just a little longer. Cause you were done running away from it. You were falling for the villain and there was nothing you could do about it.

AN: Sukuna was a little ooc in this. might make a part two.

[rainbowbutterfrosting]

I was playing ace attorney last night and had a realization of my true power. So here's some of the dream situation in ace attorney format lmao

PLEASE DON'T LET THIS FLOP I SPENT SOOOO LONG ON IT

Note:

This isn't meant to be a proper summary, I'm just having fun sldfkj

If there's errors in the video then oopsie. I'm not gonna fix them just bc it would be too much effort. (Also, some things are worded weirdly bc I took them directly from videos. Primarily with stuff Dream's saying)

If there's errors in the transcript below, then let me know!! Though I haven't captioned everything in the video, just all the dialogue and some relevant sound effects.

In case anyone's curious, I used objection.lol

Transcription under cut, though I'd recommend watching the video for music and sound effects :]]]]] I just put it as an option for those who use screen readers, have bad connection, etc.

The second week of January 2025.

Chat, as the Gallery in Ace Attorney: GET HIS ASS. SLAY (LITERALLY) hi youtube

[Gavel slams]

Tubbo, as the Judge: Trial is now in Session for Dreamwastaken.

Tubbo: Dream, your opening statement, please.

Dream, as Cody Hackins: Tommyinnit posted a video yesterday that was titled "Dream" where he said a lot of stuff about me that isn't true.

[Hold it!]

Tommyinnit, as Phoenix Wright: Is it not true that you called my fanbase a slur?

Dream: Okay yeah, I did do that. I'm sorry. Genuinely.

Tommyinnit: Good. That was the absolute bare minimum.

Tommyinnit: But what about the misogyny? And how you and your friends treat women?

Dream: You have no examples.

[clever sound]

Dream: What if I just said you're racist and called it a day!

Tubbo: You called two different women "whores." Please amend your testimony.

Dream: Ah. Yeah, but it was to my friend. She wasn't upset at all!

[Objection!]

Ludwig, as older Phoenix Wright: Lmao

Dream: Okay but I meant it in the affectionate way!!! Like in the way I've called my cat a whore.

[Loud chatter from the Gallery]

Chat: SHANE DAWSON???? HE WHAT!!!!!!! [shuttering camera] I'm lost. Are they still fighting over discs?

Dream: Whatever, that's long enough ago. I did what I could about the situation.

Tommyinnit: My video wasn't just about that. It was also how you've been awful to me. It started with early Dream SMP when-

[Objection!]

Dream: Tommy, there's no way that you actually believe this. Saying I was terrible to you with no examples or anything- like- if you don't think that my intention was to help you, then what was my intention? Why did I do all of that?

[Loud chatter from the Gallery]

Chat: BRO THAT'S WHAT WE'RE WONDERING TEXTBOOK MANIPULATION POGCHAMP Is this new lore for c!Dream?

[Hold it!]

Tommyinnit: You thrived off of holding my success over my head! You didn't treat me like an equal!

Dream: [Desk slam] I saw potential in you!

Tommyinnit: Yet you called me a promoter for saying I was working on my podcast, book, and comedy tour?

Dream: [Critical hit sound] So why is my content worth less value?! I'm sorry that I like coding and hanging out with my friends??

[Gavel slams]

Tubbo: No one was saying that?

Tubbo: You keep taking Tommy's clips out of context. Shouldn't you be more responsible with the clips you take since you're aware of the gravity of some of these claims?

Dream: [Surprised Sound] Because-

Dream: You're saying-

Dream: Uh-

Chat: [lots of periods and question marks]

[Disappointed sound]

Dream: That's a good point, Tubbo.

Dream: That's actually a really good point.

Tubbo: Thanks. :/

Jack Manifold, as Winston Payne: [while applause plays] !! Shut Up I'm Talking Patreon ONLY $7 !!

[no-144444]

꩜summary: after a very public break up, you decide getting under someone is the best way to get over someone else... cue chloe albon trying to get her single brother a date

꩜pairing: alex albon x fem! reader

You had a history of tumultuous relationships with some of the world’s most elite assholes. But, it was your two year long situationship with Callum Turner that turned you off men, specifically the moment you found out he was engaged to Dua Lipa. It crushed you, because you thought he’d be the man you’d marry. Yeah, maybe it was toxic, but it was all you knew. When it was good, it was so good, and maybe that was enough to keep you, because the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t. But that was months ago, and you were healed, right? 

“Y/n, again!” Sean called as you ran over the choreo in your head, correcting where you went wrong. This whole year had been too much, too much heartbreak, too much bullshit, too much success. That was the kicker. You’d skyrocketed into fame just before it came out that you were the other woman in your own relationship. Maybe you would’ve handled everything better if the entire internet didn’t have all eyes on you, and maybe you wouldn’t have sobbed on stage and made a huge fool of yourself, considering you acted like you were over it in public, but in private anyone could see the way it held you back, and that soon bled into your professional life too, and everyone saw it. It was so embarrassing, but the breakup made you evaluate everything. Were you pretty enough? Smart enough? Talented enough? Successful enough? Even after moulding yourself into everything you knew he wanted, he still wouldn’t stick around. Was it just… you? You tried to shake it off, doing everything every self-help book recommended, spending all your time on you. Still, you felt like you were stuck at a greenlight, still not moving. Like something in your head just stopped you from moving and crossing. Sean stared at you from across the room, and you noticed how all eyes were on you. You sighed, trying desperately to keep the tears in. It was too much. He cleared his throat. “Actually, take 10 everyone, we’ll get it.” 

You practically collapsed into your chair. Holy shit, waking up at 3am was no joke. You looked like death had claimed you about 5 hours ago, but you were still up and walking. It was uncanny, and you felt just as shit as you looked. Nights in your apartment were usually spent raging over your relationship breakup, or crying about it. No in between. Just rage or sadness. 

Last night had been sadness, which sucked because it meant your eyes were puffy. Gracie, your makeup artist gave you a sympathetic look. “Still?” she questioned. You nodded, embarrassed.

You groaned. “It’s so fucking embarrassing,” you hid behind your hands, feeling every piece of the shame you honestly should feel. Why the fuck were you still crying about a man who never even wanted you in the first place? 

“It’s not,” she wrapped her arms around you. “It’s human. It’s emotion,” she assured you. “He’s a dick, and he played with your heart for months, that’s on him. You don’t need to move on super fast-”

“You need to get laid,” Chloe, her assistant, exclaimed, making you laugh as Gracie rolled her eyes. “I have a brother who’s single if you want him. He’s super regular.” 

“What does he do?” Were you seriously considering this? What the fuck was going on in your brain? 

“He races cars,” she explained as she started on your base, Gracie focusing on your eyes. “F1, but he’s in a shit team so it doesn’t even matter,” she chuckled. “I can give you his number if you want?”

Fuck it. Why not?

See you at 3! I'll be the one in blue :)

From his texts, Alex was sweet. He seemed kind of embarrassed that his sister had shot his shot for him, but accepted it gracefully. You two chatted about your lives, he explained F1, and you explained your upcoming tour/ album. He showed genuine interest. You googled him a lot, like a lot. 

As you finished getting ready to meet him at the track in Monaco, you felt butterflies in your stomach. That hadn’t happened for a long time, and it was… weirdly welcome. It meant you weren’t thinking about Callum. 

You’d never been to Monaco, apparently he lived there. It was pretty impressive, considering how gorgeous (and expensive) it was. You hadn’t gone anywhere publicly in a few months, just letting your focus fall to your music, to your videos, to your tour. It was nice, not thinking about how anyone thought of you or how they perceived you. You realised Alex probably got it, especially after the whole RedBull era of his life. But he seemed sweet. And worth it. 

So you stepped into the Williams garage before you gave yourself a second to think it through. 

Alex and George were extremely funny together. Alex had tried to blow George off for dinner, but after their issues on track, George wouldn’t let him. So your first date turned into a double date, with two people you didn’t even know. George was funny though, and Carmen was really lovely to talk to. You kept quiet for a lot of the date, just adding your small anecdotes in where they fit, and laughing when something funny was said. Alex couldn’t take his eyes off you. Sat there, glittering in the Monaco sunset, your quiet demeanor, your bright smile. You were beautiful, smart, and just… wonderful, in his eyes, and he’d barely known you for a week. You pretended you didn’t notice the way he was staring. 

Alex picked up the bill (obviously), and you parted ways with Carmen and George. You and Alex strolled alongside the harbour as he explained more F1 terms, and somewhere Portier and the Nouvelle Chicane his hand crept into yours, and you didn’t mind. 

“So, what did you think?” he asked as you collected yourself from laughing at one of his horrible jokes. 

“About what? F1?” you questioned. He nodded. “It was cool, very physics-y, if I was smarter I think I’d get it a bit more-”

“You’re plenty smart,” he smiled, warm and welcoming. “You’ll get it more with time.” 

“Time,” you nodded. “So there’s going to be a second date?”

He turned to you, stopping. The moonlight hit his eyes at the perfect angle, they looked like they were glittering. “There’s going to be a lot more than one more date, I hope,” he grinned. 

“Well, that’s if you want to be seen in public with me again,” you joked. He didn’t laugh. He sighed. 

“You’re too hard on yourself,” he shook his head, his hands finding your waist. “You’re a brilliant singer, you’re a wonderful person, you’re so smart, you’re so kind,” he listed and you felt yourself warm. “And you give yourself such a hard time, just because one dickhead didn’t see yourself the way everyone else sees you. Not saying I’ve been in your exact position, but I’ve been publicly humiliated and felt like I’ve lost everything. It feels shit,” he let out a deep breath as you held your own. No one else had been able to put it into words. No one else knew what it was like. “But beating yourself up about it isn’t going to make anything any better. It’ll just make you more miserable. So what, you cried at a concert? I cried when I saw One Direction-”

He stopped talking because you’d started kissing him. No one understood you like that, and he did. He saw it. Read between the lines before you even asked him to. Understood you like it was breathing. 

Greenlight. And you walked.

navigation for my blog :)

williams & merc masterlist

so close to what masterlist

pop queens mixtape

[lxvsiick]

KISS ME RIGHT | MYUNG JAEHYUN

PAIRING: down bad! frat boy! myung jaehyun x library worker! fem! reader 

SUMMARY: Jaehyung goes to the library everyday to see Y/n even though he's never touched a book in his life.

GENRE: fluff, imagine, frat boy

WORDCOUNT: 2k

WARNING: kissing scene towards the end!

A/N: Inspired by KISS ME RIGHT by Keshi -- the song is finally out! i've been waiting ever since his last tour ,, this song reminds of jaehyun’s flirty personality so ENJOY!

The double doors of the library swung open with an exaggerated flair, and every head inside turned like it was a reflex. There he was again—Jaehyun, in all his glory. Hair tousled like he'd just come from the gym, a hoodie slung over his shoulder, and that ridiculous smile that could charm the paint off the walls. He strutted into the library like it was the hottest club on campus, and not the quietest place within a ten-mile radius.

Whispers buzzed through the aisles.

"Is that Jaehyun again?"

"Does he even know what a book is?"

"Bro, he’s here every day now. Do you think he lost a bet?"

But Jaehyun didn’t care. He barely noticed the stares anymore. All he cared about was making his way to the front desk, where Y/n sat. She looked calm, focused, her fingers flying over the keyboard, the glow from her computer screen highlighting her face. She didn’t even look up as he approached.

Jaehyun cleared his throat a little too loudly, startling a student reading in the corner.

"Yo, uh... hey," he said, trying to sound casual, like he hadn’t spent the last twenty minutes rehearsing those two words in his head.

She finally glanced up, her brow furrowed in mild confusion. It was like she was wondering why this human embodiment of a golden retriever was trying to infiltrate her serene library world.

"You’re here again?" she asked, her voice neutral but with a hint of amusement.

Jaehyun rubbed the back of his neck, his usual swagger deflating slightly under her gaze. But he quickly recovered, flashing that winning smile that got him into any party, out of any trouble, and, hopefully, into her good graces.

"Yeah, you know... studying and stuff."

She raised an eyebrow, glancing at the completely empty table he had staked out for himself behind her. No books. No laptop. Not even a notebook. Just him, spinning a pen between his fingers like he was preparing for the next big test in... nothing.

"Studying?" she echoed, clearly unconvinced.

"Yeah, you know... brushing up on... the Dewey Decimal System." He threw in a dramatic wink, like it was the cleverest thing anyone had ever said about libraries.

She didn’t laugh, but there was a tiny, almost imperceptible quirk of her lips. Success.

"Right. Well, let me know if you need help finding a book... or learning how to read." Her voice was dry, and Jaehyun's grin widened.

"Ouch, brutal," he chuckled, his face lighting up like she had just complimented him.

She turned back to her screen, though he could tell she wasn’t entirely brushing him off. That was all the encouragement he needed. Without another word, he made his way to his usual table—smack in the middle of her line of sight. He didn’t sit like a regular person. He flopped down with a dramatic sigh, then spread out across the chair like he was getting ready for a nap, not a study session.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅

From her seat, Y/n could feel his presence, like a beam of sunshine she wasn’t sure she needed right now. Every time she glanced up, there he was, pretending to flip through the pages of some random book he’d grabbed. Every few minutes, he'd peek over the top of the pages to check if she was looking.

At one point, Taesan and Leehan walked by and nearly stopped in their tracks when they saw Jaehyun actually holding a book. Leehan nudged Taesan, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Dude, I think he’s... reading?"

Taesan snorted. "Nah, he's definitely planning something. Probably trying to get out of doing chores at the frat house."

Jaehyun pretended not to hear them, but he couldn’t help shooting a quick grin their way. Let them talk. He was on a mission—a mission that involved far more staring at Y/n than reading anything resembling words.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅

As the library’s closing time approached, the once-crowded space thinned out. Y/n was busy packing up her things behind the desk, when she noticed Jaehyun still lounging in his seat, scrolling through his phone. Everyone else had left, but he lingered like he had all the time in the world.

She walked over, standing at his table, crossing her arms with a bemused expression. "You know we’re closing, right?"

He glanced up, his puppy-like enthusiasm returning as if she’d just thrown him a bone. "Oh, yeah, totally. Just waiting for the right moment to—" He glanced down at the book in front of him and then looked back up, suddenly sheepish. "—check this out. For... studying. You know, tomorrow."

She shook her head, but this time, the smile she’d been holding back all day finally broke through.

"You’re hopeless."

He stood up, grinning ear-to-ear. "Nah, just... committed."

She raised an eyebrow, a challenge in her eyes. "To studying?"

He stepped closer, playful but serious. "To you."

For a second, there was nothing but the sound of the quiet, empty library around them. Then she laughed—soft, real. And in that moment, he knew every second of pretending to study had been worth it.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅

The bass from the speakers thumped through the walls of the frat house as Jaehyun stood near the kitchen, laughing with his friends. Red Solo cups in hand, they exchanged stories from the week, loud banter filling the air. Jaehyun was mid-sentence when something—or rather, someone—caught his eye.

Out of the corner of his vision, Y/n stepped through the front door, her figure silhouetted against the dim lights of the hallway. She was wearing a sleek black dress that hugged her frame just right, her hair falling in waves over her shoulders. The noise of the party seemed to dull in his ears. He froze, his eyes locked onto her as if the world had slowed down just for a moment.

His friends continued chatting around him, oblivious to his trance.

"Yo, bro... hello?" Sungho waved a hand in front of his face. Jaehyun blinked but didn’t move.

"Earth to Jaehyun! What are you staring at, man?" Sohee nudged him, noticing where his eyes were glued.

His heart pounded in his chest, his mind still trying to process how she—Y/n—was here, in this chaos of beer pong and blaring music. She didn’t belong here, but she looked so effortlessly out of place, it was almost unfair.

"Bro, you good?" Hanbin laughed, realizing why he was distracted. "Dude’s done for, he’s totally smitten."

Jaehyun shook his head, snapping out of it. He chuckled awkwardly, trying to act nonchalant. "Yeah, uh, I’ll catch you guys later." He set his cup down on the counter and started weaving his way through the crowd toward her, his pulse quickening with every step.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅

As he neared her, she looked around the room, clearly unfamiliar with the party vibe. Her eyes landed on him, and she smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. He stopped a few feet away, his voice unsteady.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, more confused than anything. "Who invited you?"

She raised an eyebrow at his tone, folding her arms over her chest. "Jake invited me. I thought it might be fun." Her voice was cool, as if his question wasn’t welcome.

A flare of jealousy twisted in his gut, and he frowned, glancing around the room, wondering why Jake had to ask her. "You should’ve said no to him. This isn't your scene." His voice came out sharper than he intended, his frustration laced in every word.

Y/n scoffed, clearly annoyed. "Excuse me? You don’t get to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do." She took a step closer, her gaze hardening. "I didn’t come here for Jake. I came because I wanted to see you. But if this is how you're gonna act, maybe it was a mistake." Her voice cut through the noise, her disappointment evident.

Before he could even respond, she turned on her heel, moving deeper into the house, disappearing into the crowd of bodies and flashing lights. He stood there, dumbfounded, replaying her words in his head. She came to see him.

୧ ‧₊˚ ���� ⋅

His heart sank. He felt like an idiot. Without wasting another second, he pushed his way through the throng of people, his mind racing. How could he have messed up so badly in just one conversation?

"Hey, have you seen—" he asked one person, cutting himself off as he realized they didn’t know who he was talking about. He scanned the dance floor, the kitchen, even outside by the keg, but she was nowhere in sight. His frustration grew with every passing second.

He was a guy who could read a room, crack a joke, keep the vibe light. But right now? He was frantic. His friends slapped him on the back as he passed, asking him what was up, but he brushed them off. He couldn’t let her leave thinking that was all he had to say—that she wasn’t welcome here, when in reality, she was the only person he wanted to be around.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was really just a few intense minutes, he spotted her standing near the back patio, her arms crossed as she talked with a couple of people. She looked frustrated, her foot tapping lightly against the ground.

Jaehyun took a deep breath, steeling himself, and made his way over to her, determined to make things right.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅

Jaehyun took a deep breath, steeling himself, and made his way over to her, determined to make things right. 

As he approached, the people around her seemed to sense the tension, exchanging glances before slowly stepping back, leaving the two of them alone in the middle of the patio. The noise around them faded into the background.

Jaehyun opened his mouth, but nothing came out at first. Then the words just spilled out.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak out earlier. I was just... I don’t know, I saw you in that dress and... and then when you said you came to see me and not because of Jake, I just—" He paused, his hands gesturing wildly as he tried to find the right words. "I got jealous. It was dumb. I shouldn’t have said you shouldn’t be here, because I want you here. Like, I always want you here, not just at parties, but anywhere, and I—" He was rambling now, his thoughts tripping over each other in his rush to explain.

"—I just, I like you. A lot. And I don’t know how to deal with that sometimes. You’re... you’re like this amazing person, and I’m just the guy who’s pretending to study just so I can see you, and that probably sounds stupid, but—" He was talking faster, his words stumbling over each other. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he wasn’t even sure if he was making sense anymore.

Suddenly, Y/n stepped closer, cutting him off mid-sentence. Without saying a word, she stood on her tiptoes, leaning in.

Before he could process what was happening, her lips met his.

Time seemed to stop. His heart did a somersault, and his thoughts went blank. Her kiss was soft, brief, but it left him utterly frozen, like his brain couldn’t catch up with what just happened.

When she pulled back, Jaehyun stood there, completely stunned, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open as he tried to make sense of reality. For a moment, it was as though his whole world had paused.

Y/n looked at him and burst into laughter—an easy, melodic sound that broke through the tension. "You should see your face right now," she teased.

Her laughter snapped him out of his trance. His shocked expression melted into a grin, his heart racing for an entirely different reason now.

"Wait, you—" he started, his voice trailing off in disbelief.

She smiled, stepping closer again, her gaze soft but teasing. "Yeah, I like you too. Even if you pretend to read at the library every day." She gave him a playful nudge.

A flood of relief and pure happiness washed over him, and without thinking, he closed the gap between them, gently cupping her face and bringing his lips to hers once more. This time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate, like he wanted to savor every second of it. He could feel the smile on her lips, and it made him grin into the kiss.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅

MASTERLIST

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, lxvsiick, 2024

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The meritocracy to eugenics pipeline

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in PDX on Jun 20 at BARNES AND NOBLE with BUNNIE HUANG. After that, it's LONDON (Jul 1) and MANCHESTER (Jul 2).

It's kinda weird how, the more oligarchic our society gets, the more racist it gets. Why is the rise of billionaires attended by a revival of discredited eugenic ideas, dressed up in modern euphemisms like "race realism" and "human diversity"?

I think the answer lies in JK Galbraith's observation that "The modern conservative is engaged in one of man's oldest exercises in moral philosophy; that is, the search for a superior moral justification for selfishness."

The theory of markets goes like this: a market is a giant computer that is always crunching all kinds of "signals" about what people want and how much they want it, and which companies and individuals are most suited to different roles within the system. The laissez-faire proposition is that if we just resist the temptation to futz with the computer (to "distort the market"), it will select the best person for each position: workers, consumers, and, of course, "capital allocators" who decide where the money goes and thus what gets made.

The vast, distributed market computer is said to be superior to any kind of "central planning" because it can integrate new facts quickly and adjust production to suit varying needs. Let rents rise too high and the computer will trigger the subroutine that brings "self-interested" ("greedy") people into the market to build more housing and get a share of those sky-high rents, "coming back into equilibrium." But allow a bureaucracy to gum up the computer with a bunch of rules about how that housing should be built and the "lure new homebuilders" program will crash. Likewise, if the government steps in to cap the price of rents, the "price signal" will be silenced and that "new homebuilders" program won't even be triggered.

There's some logic to this. There are plenty of good things that market actors do that are motivated by self-interest rather than altruism. When Google founders Larry Page and Sergey Brin developed their Pagerank algorithm and revolutionized internet search, they weren't just solving a cool computer science problem – they were hoping to get rich.

But here's the thing: if you let Larry and Sergey tap the capital markets – if they can put on a convincing show for the "capital allocators" – then the market will happily supply them with the billions they need to buy and neutralize their competitors, to create barriers to entry for superior search engines, and become the "central planners" that market theory so deplores. If your business can't get any market oxygen, if no audience ever discovers your creative endeavors, does it matter if the central planner who decided you don't deserve a chance is elected or nominated by "the market"?

Here's how self-proclaimed market enthusiasts answer that question: all Larry and Sergey are doing here is another form of "capital allocation." They're allocating attention, deciding what can and can't be seen, in just the same way that a investor decides what will and won't be funded. If an investor doesn't fund promising projects, then some other investor will come along, fund them, get rich, and poach the funds that were once given to less-successful rivals. In the same way, if Google allocates attention badly, then someone will start a better search engine that's better at allocating attention, and we will switch to that new search engine, and Google will fail.

Again, this sounds reasonable, but a little scrutiny reveals it to be circular reasoning. Google has dominated search for a quarter of a century now. It has a 90% market share. According to the theory of self-correcting markets, this means that Google is very good at allocating our attention. What's more, if it feels like Google actually sucks at this – like Google's search-results are garbage – that doesn't mean Google it bad at search. It doesn't mean that Google is sacrificing quality to improve its bottom line (say, by scaling back on anti-spam spending, or by increasing the load of ads on a search results page).

It just means that doing better than Google is impossible. You can tell it's impossible, because it hasn't happened.

QED.

Google wasn't the first search engine, and it would be weird if it were the last. The internet and the world have changed a lot and the special skills, organizational structures and leadership that Google assembled to address the internet of the 2000s and the 2010s is unlikely to be the absolute perfect mix for the 2020s. And history teaches us that the kinds of people who can assemble thee skills, structures and leaders to succeed in one era are unlikely to be able to change over to the ideal mix for the next era.

Interpreting the persistent fact of Google's 90% market-share despite its plummeting quality as evidence of Google's excellence requires an incredible act of mental gymnastics. Rather than accepting the proposition that Google both dominates and sucks because it is excellent, we should at least consider the possibility that Google dominates while sucking because it cheats. And hey, wouldn't you know it, three federal courts have found Google to be a monopolist in three different ways in just a year.

Now, the market trufans will tell you that these judges who called Google a cheater are just futzers who can't keep their fingers off the beautiful, flawless market computer. By dragging Google into court, forcing its executives to answer impertinent questions, and publishing their emails, the court system is "distorting the market." Google is the best, because it is the biggest, and once it stops being the best, it will be toppled.

This makes perfect sense to people who buy the underlying logic of market-as-computer. For the rest of us, it strains credulity.

Now, think for a minute of the people who got rich off of Google. You have the founders – like Sergey Brin, who arrived in America as a penniless refugee and is now one of the richest people in the history of the human species. He got his fortune by building something that billions of us used trillions of times (maybe even quadrillions of times) – the greatest search engine the world had ever seen.

Brin isn't the only person who got rich off Google, of course. There are plenty of Googlers who performed different kinds of labor – coding, sure, but also accountancy, HR, graphic design, even catering in the company's famous cafeterias – who became "post-economic" (a euphemism for "so rich they don't ever need to think about money ever again") thanks to their role in Google's success.

There's a pretty good argument to be made that these people "earned" their money, in the sense that they did a job and that job generated some money and they took it home. We can argue about whether the share of the profits that went to different people was fair, or whether the people whose spending generated that profit got a good deal, or whether the product itself was good or ethical. But what is inarguable is that this was money that people got for doing something.

Then there's Google's investors. They made a lot of money, especially the early investors. Again, we can argue about whether investors should be rewarded for speculation, but there's no question that the investors in Google took a risk and got something back. They could have lost it all. In some meaningful sense, they made a good choice and were rewarded for it.

But now let's think about the next generation. The odds that these billionaires, centimillionaires and decimillionaires will spawn the next generation of 1%ers, 0.1%ers, and 0.0001%ers are very high. Right now, in America, the biggest predictor of being rich is having rich parents. Every billionaire on the Forbes under-30 list inherited their wealth:

https://ca.finance.yahoo.com/news/forbes-billionaires-under-30-inherited-203930435.html

The wealthy have created a system of dynastic wealth that puts the aristocratic method of primogenitor in the shade. Every scion of every one-percenter can have their own fortune and start their own dynasty, without lifting a finger. Their sole job is to sign the paperwork put before them by "wealth managers":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/19/dynastic-wealth/#caste

Yes, it's true that some of the very richest people on Earth got their money by investing, rather than inheriting it. Bill Gates's investment income growth exceeds even the growth of the world's richest woman, L'Oreal heiress Liliane Bettencourt, who never did anything of note apart from emerging from an extremely lucky orifice and then simply accruing:

https://memex.craphound.com/2014/06/24/thomas-pikettys-capital-in-the-21st-century/

But Bill Gates's wealth accumulation from investing exceeds the wealth he accumulated by founding and running the most successful company in history (at the time). Doing work never pays as much as allocating capital. And Gates's children? They can assume a Bettencourtian posture on a divan, mouths yawning wide for the passage of peeled grapes, and their fortunes will grow still larger. Same goes for their children, and their children's children.

Capitalism's self-mythologizing insists that the invisible hand owes no allegiance to yesterday's champions. The mere fact that the market rewarded you for allocating capital wisely during your tenure does not entitle your offspring to continue to allocate wealth in the years and centuries to come – not unless they, too, are capital allocators of such supremacy that they are superior to everyone born hereafter and will make the decisions that make the whole world better off.

Because that's the justification for inequality: that the market relentlessly seeks out the people with the skill and foresight to do things and invest in things that improve the world for all of us. If we interrupt that market process with regulations, taxes, or other "distorting" factors, then the market's quest for the right person for the right job will be thwarted and all of us will end up poorer. If we want the benefits of the invisible hand, we must not jostle the invisible elbow!

That's the justification for abolishing welfare, public education, public health, affirmative action, DEI, and any other programs that redistribute wealth to the least among us. If we get in the way of the market's selection process, we'll elevate incompetents to roles of power and importance and they will bungle those roles in ways that hurt us all. As Boris Johnson put it: "the harder you shake the pack the easier it will be for [big] cornflakes to get to the top":

https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2013/nov/28/boris-johnson-iq-intelligence-gordon-gekko

Which leaves the servants and defenders of the invisible hand with a rather awkward question: how is it that today, capital allocation is a hereditary role? We used to have the idea that fitness to allocate capital – that is, to govern the economy and the lives of all of the rest of us – was a situational matter. The rule was "shirtsleeves to shirtsleeves in three generations": "The first generation makes it, the second generation spends it, and the third generation blows it."

That's the lesson of the rags to riches story*: that out there, amongst the teeming grubby billions, lurks untold genius, waiting to be anointed by the market and turned loose to make us all better off.

In America, these stories are sometimes called "Horatio Alger" stories, after the writer who penned endless millionaire-pleasing fables about urchins who were adopted by wealthy older men who saw their promise and raised them to be captains of industry. However, in real life, Horatio Alger was a pedophile who adopted young boys and raped them:

https://newenglandhistoricalsociety.com/horatio-alger-hundred-year-old-secret/

Perhaps your life was saved by a surgeon who came from humble origins but made it through med school courtesy of Pell Grants. Perhaps you thrilled to a novel or a film made by an artist from a working class family who got their break through an NEA grant. Maybe the software you rely on every day, or the game that fills your evenings, was created by someone who learned their coding skills at a public library or publicly funded after-school program.

The presence among us of people who achieved social mobility and made our lives better is evidence that people are being born every moment with something to contribute that is markedly different, and higher in social status, than the role their parents played. Even if you stipulate that the person who cleans your toilet has been correctly sorted into a toilet-cleaning job by the invisible hand, it's clear that the invisible hand would prefer that at least some of those toilet-cleaners' kids should do something else for a living.

And yet, wealth remains stubbornly hereditary. Our capital allocators – who, during the post-war, post-New Deal era were often drawn from working families – are now increasingly, relentlessly born to that role.

For the wealthy, this is the origin of the meritocracy to eugenics pipeline. If power and privilege are inherited – and they are, ever moreso every day – then either we live in an extremely unfair society in which the privileged and the powerful have rigged the game…or the invisible hand has created a subspecies of thoroughbred humans who were literally born to rule.

This is the thesis of the ultra-rich, the moral justification for rigging the system so that their failsons and faildaughters will give rise to faildestinies of failgrandkids and failgreat-grandkids, whose emergence from history's luckiest orifices guarantees them a lifelong tenure ordering other people around. It's the justification for some people being born to own the places where the rest of us live, and the rest of us paying them half our salaries just so we don't end up sleeping on the sidewalk.

"Hereditary meritocracy" is just a polite way of saying "eugenics." It starts from the premise of the infallible invisible hand and then attributes all inequality in society to the hand's perfect judgment, its genetic insight in picking the best people for the best jobs. If people of one race are consistently on top of the pile, that's the market telling you something about their genomes. If men consistently fare better in the economy than women, the invisible hand is trying to say something about the Y chromosome for anyone with ears to hear.

Capitalism's winners have always needed "a superior moral justification for selfishness," a discreet varnish to shine up the old divine right of kings. Think of the millionaire who created a "Nobel Prize sperm-bank" (and then fraudulently fathered hundreds of children because he couldn't find any Nobelists willing to make a deposit):

https://memex.craphound.com/2006/09/07/nobel-prize-sperm-bank-human-tragicomedy-about-eugenics/

Or the billionaire founder of Telegram who has fathered over 100 children in a bid to pass on his "superior genes":

https://www.cnn.com/2024/08/26/tech/pavel-durov-telegram-profile-intl

Think of Trump and his endless boasting about his "good blood" and praise for the "bloodlines" of Henry Ford and other vicious antisemites:

https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/politics/2020/05/22/trump-criticized-praising-bloodlines-henry-ford-anti-semite/5242361002/

Or Elon Musk, building a compound where he hopes to LARP as Immortan Joe, with a harem of women who have borne his legion of children, who will carry on his genetic legacy:

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/10/29/business/elon-musk-children-compound.html

Inequality is a hell of a drug. There's plenty of evidence that becoming a billionaire rots your brain, and being born into a dynastic fortune is a thoroughly miserable experience:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/13/public-interest-pharma/#affluenza

The stories that rich people tell themselves about why this is the only way things can be ("There is no alternative" -M. Thatcher) always end up being stories about superior blood. Eugenics and inequality are inseparable companions.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/05/20/big-cornflakes-energy/#caliper-pilled

[gyu-tori]

The Only Gift That Matters | Y.JW

A Birthday Special

⟢ Pairing: idol!jungwonx fem!reader ⟢ Genre: FLUFF!!

Summary: After his final tour performance, Jungwon expects a simple celebration—until he walks in and finds you waiting for him. With the help of his meddling members, you’ve flown across the world to surprise him on his birthday, turning an ordinary night into one he’ll never forget.

⟢ Word Count: 6.4k

The deafening cheers of thousands of ENGENEs still echoed in Jungwon’s ears as he walked offstage, his heart hammering in his chest. The adrenaline of performing had yet to fully subside, leaving his body buzzing with energy despite the exhaustion creeping into his limbs. Sweat clung to his skin, the fabric of his stage outfit slightly damp from the hours of dancing and singing under the bright, flashing lights.

He ran a hand through his damp hair, exhaling deeply as he stepped into the backstage area, the distant sound of fans still chanting his name beyond the arena walls. The final show of the tour was over. Just like that.

Jungwon felt a strange mix of pride and relief settle in his chest. The months of rehearsals, traveling, and performing in different cities had been exhausting, but it was all worth it for the moments he got to share with the fans. Now, as the weight of the past few weeks settled on him, he realized just how drained he was.

The other members were already backstage, toweling off sweat and chugging water bottles as staff buzzed around them, congratulating them on another successful concert.

“Damn, that was crazy,” Jay muttered, shaking out his arms as he collapsed onto one of the couches. “The energy tonight was insane.”

Sunghoon nodded, still catching his breath. “I swear, they were even louder than last night.”

“Louder than every other stop, honestly,” Sunoo chimed in, giggling as he wiped his face with a towel. “My ears are still ringing.”

Jungwon smiled at their words, a sense of warmth spreading through him. He loved that no matter how exhausting things got, they could all share these moments together.

“You good, Won?” Heeseung’s voice broke through his thoughts, drawing his attention.

Jungwon blinked, realizing he had been standing still for a moment too long. “Yeah,” he nodded, offering a tired smile. “Just taking it all in.”

Ni-ki slung an arm over his shoulders with a grin. “You should. It’s your birthday, Hyung!”

Jungwon chuckled at the nickname. It had started as a joke because of his leader status, but over time, it had stuck. He shook his head playfully. “It’s just another day.”

The members collectively groaned.

“Bro, don’t say that,” Jake protested, nudging him. “It’s your birthday, AND you just finished performing for engenes. We have to celebrate.”

Jungwon laughed, shaking his head again, though he appreciated their enthusiasm. “We’ll see.”

Unknown to him, his members were all exchanging knowing glances. They were doing their best to act casual, but Jungwon was too exhausted to notice the small smirks, the barely concealed excitement in their eyes.

Something was definitely up. But for now, Jungwon was just grateful for a moment to breathe.

Earlier that day, long before Jungwon stepped off the concert stage drenched in sweat and glowing with the high of performing, you had landed in the city, excitement and nerves warring inside your chest.

You had spent weeks planning this trip, coordinating your schedule around his tour, booking flights, and making sure everything was set up perfectly. The hardest part, though, had been keeping it a secret.

Jungwon wasn’t the type to ask too many questions, but he always had a way of sensing when something was up. That’s what made this surprise so difficult to pull off—because if anyone knew you well enough to figure out when you were hiding something, it was him.

Luckily, you had an accomplice.

“Flight’s on time. You should be landing in the afternoon,” Heeseung had texted you the night before. “I’ll make sure Jungwon’s distracted.”

You had smiled at the message, grateful beyond words. Heeseung had been your lifeline in pulling this off.

And now, after hours of flying and navigating through airport crowds, you were finally here, standing in a quiet hallway backstage, hidden from view as the concert continued just beyond the walls.

Your heart pounded against your ribs, fingers tightening around the handle of your small carry-on bag. Even though you had traveled all this way, the nerves had only grown stronger.

What if he was too tired to enjoy the surprise? What if he was overwhelmed? What if—

“Stop overthinking,” Heeseung’s voice cut through your thoughts, his usual teasing lilt present as he approached you from around the corner.

You let out a breath, forcing a small laugh. “I can’t help it.”

He smirked. “You think Jungwon’s not gonna be the happiest man alive when he sees you? Please.”

The words made your heart warm, but the nerves remained. “I just want it to be perfect.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes playfully, then reached for your bag. “Come on, let’s get you set up before he gets suspicious.”

You let him take it, following him as he led you through the backstage area with practiced ease. The energy in the venue was electric—staff members moving in and out of rooms, the faint sound of Jungwon’s voice echoing from the stage as he spoke to the fans.

The reality of just how close you were to him hit you hard.

A whole month had passed since you last saw Jungwon in person. Video calls and texts only did so much when all you really wanted was to be by his side, to feel the warmth of his presence, to hear his laughter without a screen separating you.

And now, in just a short while, he would be standing in front of you again.

Heeseung must have sensed your growing emotions because he nudged you lightly. “Hey, don’t cry yet. You still gotta make it through the surprise.”

You let out a watery chuckle, wiping at your eyes. “I’m not crying.”

“Not yet,” he corrected, grinning.

You shook your head at him, but you were grateful for his humor—it made everything feel a little easier.

Heeseung led you to one of the smaller backstage rooms, where a few staff members were already setting up the decorations. The other members had given their input earlier, making sure everything was just right.

A string of warm fairy lights hung around the room, casting a cozy glow. A table had been set up with a beautifully decorated cake, simple but elegant, with “Happy Birthday, Leader Won!” written in icing.

A large banner stretched across one wall, displaying the same message in bold, playful letters.

The sight made your heart swell. Jungwon wasn’t the type to demand grand celebrations, but that was exactly why you wanted to make sure he had one. He deserved to be showered with love, to be reminded of how much he meant to everyone around him.

“You guys really went all out,” you murmured, taking it all in.

Heeseung shrugged. “Of course. We have to make sure our leader feels special.”

You smiled, running your fingers lightly over the edge of the table. “He’s going to love this.”

Heeseung clapped his hands together. “Okay, so here’s the plan. Jungwon’s still out there, finishing up the concert. Once he comes backstage, he’ll head to the dressing room to cool down, right?”

You nodded, already knowing his post-concert routine.

Heeseung continued. “While he’s in there, we’ll gather everyone here, and when he walks in, we’ll hit him with the surprise. You’ll be hiding behind the curtain until I give you the signal.”

Your stomach flipped. “Got it.”

He gave you a once-over, then smirked. “You look nervous.”

“I am nervous,” you admitted with a small laugh.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Trust me, the moment he sees you, he won’t care about anything else.”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, nodding. “I hope so.”

Heeseung grinned. “Oh, and by the way—you owe me for this. Big time.”

You laughed. “I’ll buy you dinner, okay?”

“Dinner and bubble tea.”

“Fine.”

Heeseung looked satisfied with that, then glanced at the clock. “Alright, we have about fifteen minutes before he comes offstage. You ready?”

You took a deep breath, placing a hand over your rapidly beating heart. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Fifteen minutes felt like an eternity.

You stood behind the thick black curtain in the small backstage lounge, nerves bubbling under your skin as the final notes of the encore song faded. The sound of thousands of ENGENEs screaming filled the venue, their voices blending into a beautiful, deafening chorus.

Jungwon was still out there, soaking in the last moments of the tour with his members, saying his final thank-yous to the fans. He was probably bowing now, flashing that tired but grateful smile that you had seen so many times in videos and pictures. Only this time, you weren’t watching from a screen. You were here.

Heeseung had disappeared momentarily to check on the progress, leaving you alone in your hiding spot. Your hands trembled slightly as you smoothed down your outfit, making sure everything was perfect.

The thought of seeing Jungwon after a whole month had your heart racing. Would he cry? Would he be too overwhelmed? You knew how much he tried to hold back his emotions sometimes, especially when it came to himself. He always put others first, always prioritized his members, his fans, his work.

But tonight, tonight was about him.

A soft rustling sound snapped you out of your thoughts, and then Heeseung’s voice came from the other side of the curtain. “Showtime.”

You swallowed hard. “He’s coming?”

“Yup. He’s in the dressing room now, freshening up. We have about five minutes before he walks in.”

You nodded, inhaling deeply to steady yourself. “Okay.”

The room outside was already set. The other members had gathered, all of them doing their best to act casual, but you could hear the suppressed excitement in their voices.

“Don’t act weird, guys,” Jake whispered. “He’ll know something’s up.”

“Dude, just stand normal,” Sunghoon replied.

“What does ‘stand normal’ even mean?” Jay shot back.

A soft whack sound followed. “Ow, Sunoo!”

“Shut up and just smile,” Sunoo hissed.

You pressed a hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh. It was almost funny how much effort they were putting into this. Jungwon would probably be too exhausted to even notice at first, but knowing how sharp he was, you wouldn’t be surprised if he picked up on their energy.

Still, the setup was perfect.

The fairy lights gave the room a warm, inviting glow, casting soft shadows on the walls. The cake sat neatly on the table, an elegant white-frosted design with subtle gold accents. The words Happy Birthday, Captain! were written in neat cursive, surrounded by tiny edible stars. The members had insisted on keeping the decorations simple—nothing too over-the-top, but still meaningful.

And then there was the banner.

A large, hand-painted sign stretched across the back wall, filled with personal messages from the members. Little doodles of Jungwon’s favorite things were scattered across it—his favorite snacks, his beloved cat-shaped drawings, even a small, cartoon version of himself.

It was the kind of effort that showed just how much they loved him.

You smiled to yourself, already imagining the look on his face.

A sudden shuffle of footsteps in the hallway made your breath hitch.

“Oh, oh, he’s coming—”

“Positions, everyone!”

You quickly pressed yourself further into the corner, holding your breath. The curtain concealed you entirely, and from this angle, you had a perfect view of the entrance.

The door handle turned.

For a moment, silence filled the room, thick with anticipation. Then, the door swung open and the room fell into an instant hush.

Jungwon stepped inside, still towel-drying his damp hair, his oversized black t-shirt hanging loosely on his frame. His post-performance glow was evident—cheeks flushed, eyes slightly dazed from the adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

He blinked at the sight before him.

The members stood scattered around the room, trying way too hard to act normal. Jay was casually leaning against a table—except his elbow slipped, nearly knocking over a bottle of water. Sunghoon looked suspiciously stiff, like he had rehearsed his “natural” stance too many times. Ni-ki was covering his mouth, eyes already sparkling with suppressed laughter.

Jungwon frowned slightly. Something is up.

Then, his gaze landed on the fairy lights, the cake, and finally, the massive Happy Birthday, Leader Won! banner staring back at him.

Before he could process it, the members erupted into cheers.

“Surprise!”

Jungwon flinched at the sudden noise, nearly dropping his towel. “What the—” He looked around, squinting. “What’s going on?”

“You really thought we wouldn’t do anything for your birthday?” Jake smirked, stepping forward to throw an arm around Jungwon’s shoulders.

Jungwon scoffed. “I knew you guys were being weird today.”

“Define weird,” Sunghoon said innocently, shifting slightly to block the suitcase near the couch.

Jungwon narrowed his eyes. “You were all too normal.”

“Bro, we’re always normal,” Jay deadpanned.

“I stand by it.”

The members cackled.

Heeseung, who had been standing off to the side with his arms crossed, finally spoke up. “Actually…” He smirked. “We have one more present for you.”

Jungwon groaned dramatically, rubbing his face. “Please tell me it’s not another embarrassing video montage—”

“Oh, it’s better.”

Before Jungwon could question it, Heeseung gave a small nod toward the curtain.

That was your cue.

You stepped out, heart hammering against your ribs as you finally locked eyes with Jungwon.

For a moment, time seemed to stop.

Jungwon’s entire body went rigid. His mouth parted slightly. His hands, which had been resting at his sides, twitched like his brain was struggling to send a signal. His chest rose and fell with an unsteady breath.

The members were watching eagerly, as if they were witnessing a dramatic K-drama finale.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, Jungwon finally found his voice.

“…Wait.”

His voice cracked slightly.

Ni-ki snorted.

Jungwon’s gaze darted from your face to the suitcase near the couch, then back to you. His lips parted again, but all that came out was:

“HUH?”

The room erupted.

Sunoo doubled over, clutching his stomach. Jake fell onto the couch, wheezing. Ni-ki looked like he was about to pass out from laughing.

Jungwon, however, remained frozen.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing as you stepped closer. “Surprise.”

That was all it took.

Jungwon suddenly lunged.

He reached you in seconds, wrapping his arms around you so tightly that your feet nearly left the ground. A startled laugh escaped you as you stumbled backward slightly, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

“You—You’re really here?” His voice was muffled against your shoulder, trembling slightly.

You nodded against him, your heart swelling. “I’m here.”

Jungwon pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes wide and glassy. “You… You really flew all this way? Just for me?”

You smiled. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss your birthday for anything.”

Jungwon exhaled sharply, like he was still trying to process it. Behind him, the members were still enjoying the show.

Jake wiped away fake tears. “This is beautiful.”

“He’s in shock,” Sunghoon whispered.

“No thoughts. Head empty,” Ni-ki added.

Jungwon ignored them, his hands still gripping your arms as if grounding himself.

“You okay?” you asked, pressing a hand to his cheek.

He blinked slowly. “No. I think I’m malfunctioning.”

The members lost it again.

Sunoo wiped a nonexistent tear from his eye. “We’ve lost our leader, everyone.”

Heeseung clapped Jungwon’s back. “A thank you would be nice.”

Jungwon finally tore his gaze away from you to glare at him. “Shut up.”

You giggled, reaching up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Happy birthday, love.”

Jungwon let out a small, breathless laugh, finally pulling you into another tight hug. “This is the best birthday ever.”

The members groaned loudly.

“Oh my god, he’s so whipped,” Jay muttered.

“Just now realizing that?” Sunghoon scoffed.

You laughed against Jungwon’s shoulder, feeling his grip tighten just a little more.

And in that moment, you knew—no matter how much they teased him, no matter how chaotic things got—this was exactly where you were meant to be.

—

Jungwon still hadn’t let go of you.

It had been a full minute since the initial shock wore off, but he kept his arms locked around you, his head resting against your shoulder like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

“Okay, we get it, you missed her,” Jay teased, breaking the silence.

Jungwon finally pulled back—just enough to turn and glare at him. “Shut up, Jay.”

Jay smirked. “You’re not even denying it.”

“Because it’s true,” Heeseung added with a knowing grin.

Jungwon sighed, shaking his head before turning back to you. His hands stayed on your arms, his touch warm and grounding. “How long are you staying?”

You smiled. “A few days.”

His shoulders visibly relaxed. “Good.” Then, quieter, just for you, he murmured, “I don’t want you to leave too soon.”

Your heart melted.

Before you could respond, Ni-ki clapped his hands together. “Alright, lovebirds, we do have a cake waiting.”

Jungwon sighed dramatically but finally—reluctantly—let you go. You laughed at the way he immediately reached for your hand again, intertwining his fingers with yours as he turned to face the rest of the group.

Jake grinned. “Alright, birthday boy, make a wish.”

Sunghoon nudged him. “You don’t need to. Your biggest wish literally just walked in.”

The members groaned at the cheesiness, but Jungwon?

He just smiled.

You swore his grip on your hand tightened slightly.

With a soft chuckle, he stepped forward to the table, staring at the cake. The warm fairy lights made the white frosting glow softly, and the words Happy Birthday, Captain! stood out in elegant cursive.

Jungwon exhaled deeply. “This is really nice, guys.”

Sunoo beamed. “Of course. You deserve it.”

Jungwon gave him a small, grateful smile before closing his eyes for a moment. Then, with a deep breath, he blew out the candles.

The room erupted into cheers.

“Yay, our leader is another year older!” Ni-ki teased.

“Another year shorter,” Sunghoon muttered under his breath.

Jungwon turned to glare at him. “I heard that.”

Sunghoon just smirked. “Oops.”

Jake started cutting the cake while Jay grabbed plates. You watched as Jungwon let himself fully relax, laughing as his members playfully fought over who got the biggest slice.

Sunoo dramatically gasped. “Ni-ki, put that piece back, you gremlin!”

Ni-ki, holding an unfairly large slice, grinned. “Finders keepers.”

Sunghoon looked horrified. “That’s a quarter of the cake, you menace.”

Jungwon just laughed, shaking his head. “It’s fine, just take another slice.”

“You’re too nice,” you teased, nudging him. “If that were me, I would’ve smacked it out of his hands.”

Jungwon turned to you with a grin. “Noted for future cake disputes.”

Heeseung passed you both plates, and as Jungwon took his first bite, a soft sigh of satisfaction left his lips. “Wow.” He looked up at the members. “This is really good.”

“Sunoo picked it,” Jay said, nodding.

Sunoo flipped his hair dramatically. “I do have excellent taste.”

Jungwon chuckled, turning back to you. “You should try it.”

He picked up a small forkful and, without thinking, held it up to your lips.

The entire room fell into scandalized silence.

Jake gasped. “Oh my god.”

Sunghoon looked personally attacked. “In front of my salad?”

Ni-ki fake gagged. “Not at the dinner table, guys.”

Jungwon froze.

His ears turned bright red.

You, however, decided to play along. Maintaining eye contact, you leaned in, taking the bite off his fork.

Jungwon’s jaw visibly clenched. His eyes darted to the members, all of whom were staring.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “Wow. You didn’t even hesitate.”

Jungwon cleared his throat. “Can we not make a big deal out of this?”

Ni-ki smirked. “Oh, it’s too late for that.”

Sunoo placed a hand over his heart. “I never thought I’d see the day our little leader would be out here doing—” He waved a hand dramatically. “—something so scandalous in front of us.”

Sunghoon sighed. “They grow up so fast.”

Jungwon groaned, covering his face with one hand. “I hate all of you.”

You giggled, leaning closer. “But you love me, right?”

Jungwon sighed dramatically before dropping his hand and looking at you. A soft smile played on his lips as he nodded.

“Yeah. I do.”

The members groaned in unison.

“Oh my god,” Jay muttered, stuffing cake into his mouth. “I’m gonna be sick.”

Ni-ki fake sniffled. “Our fearless leader has fallen.”

Jungwon just rolled his eyes, but the smile never left his face. He squeezed your hand gently before turning back to his cake.

The celebration had finally started winding down.

The cake had been demolished (mostly by Ni-ki, who had somehow managed to sneak extra slices despite Sunoo’s watchful gaze). The members were still playfully bickering about who gave Jungwon the best present, and the room was filled with warmth and laughter.

But even with all the noise, Jungwon hadn’t let go of your hand.

Every few minutes, you’d feel his thumb brush over your skin absentmindedly, as if making sure you were still there. If he wasn’t holding your hand, his knee was pressed against yours, his body always leaning just slightly in your direction.

You didn’t mind one bit.

Eventually, the members started cleaning up, throwing away plates and clearing the table. Jungwon had been watching them work for a grand total of two minutes before Heeseung pointed at him.

“Not so fast, birthday boy. You’re helping.”

Jungwon groaned, leaning against you dramatically. “It’s my birthday. Shouldn’t I be exempt from this?”

“Yeah, no,” Jay deadpanned, tossing him an empty cup. “If we suffer, you suffer.”

Jungwon sighed but stood up, squeezing your hand one last time before letting go. “I’ll be back soon,” he murmured.

You smiled. “I’ll be right here.”

As he walked off to help, you watched him fondly. Even exhausted, he still tried to pull his weight, stacking plates and picking up napkins.

It wasn’t long before Heeseung shot you a knowing look from across the room. “You should steal him away for a bit.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

He waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah. We got this. Go be disgusting somewhere else.”

You snorted, shaking your head before making your way toward Jungwon. He had just finished setting a stack of plates on the counter when you slipped your arms around his waist from behind, resting your head against his back.

He stiffened for a split second before instantly relaxing, his hands moving to rest over yours.

“Come with me,” you murmured.

Jungwon turned his head slightly, curiosity in his eyes. “Where?”

You just smiled. “You’ll see.”

The members noticed, of course.

“Aww, look at them,” Ni-ki cooed.

Jake sighed dramatically. “I wish someone would whisk me away like that.”

Sunghoon smirked. “We could, but you’d just come back in five minutes crying about how much you miss us.”

Jake gasped. “That happened one time.”

Jungwon rolled his eyes but tugged you toward the hallway before they could tease either of you further.

The two of you ended up in a quieter part of the backstage area, away from the noise. The air felt different here—quieter, softer, more intimate.

Jungwon sighed as he leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair. “Finally. A moment of peace.”

You smiled, stepping closer. “Tired?”

He tilted his head in thought before shaking it. “Not anymore.”

His eyes softened as he reached for your hand again. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

You squeezed his fingers gently. “I wanted to be.”

Jungwon studied you for a long moment, then—slowly—he brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. The gesture was so sweet, so tender, that your breath hitched.

His gaze flickered up, watching your reaction. When he saw your expression, he grinned. “What? I’m not allowed to be romantic?”

You laughed softly. “You are romantic. Just usually in a really awkward, flustered way.”

Jungwon groaned. “You just had to ruin my smooth moment, huh?”

You giggled, reaching up to brush a damp strand of hair from his forehead. “Sorry, sorry. You were very smooth. Super charming.”

He rolled his eyes but smiled anyway, leaning into your touch. “Better.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, soaking in the silence. It felt surreal—to be here with him after so long, with no screen between you, no time zone difference, no calls cutting in and out. Just him.

Jungwon sighed contently. “This is the best birthday ever.”

You tilted your head. “Because of the concert?”

He shook his head immediately. “No.” His grip on your hand tightened slightly. “Because you’re here.”

Your heart swelled.

“You’re really sappy today,” you teased, though your voice was soft.

Jungwon chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. Take it while you can.”

You smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Happy birthday, love.”

Jungwon’s eyes softened as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Thank you for making it perfect.”

And for the first time that night, no one interrupted.

After a long night of performing, celebrating, and being relentlessly teased by his members, Jungwon was finally free.

The two of you had slipped out of the venue while the others were still cleaning up, leaving behind the chaos and noise for the quiet comfort of the van. The moment you slid into the backseat, Jungwon immediately followed, settling in beside you.

The city lights flickered outside as the car pulled onto the road, the soft hum of the engine filling the space. The energy from the concert still lingered in the air, but exhaustion was creeping in, making everything feel a little hazy.

Jungwon let out a deep sigh, leaning back against the seat. “I can finally breathe.”

You giggled. “Are you saying your own birthday party was suffocating?”

He turned his head toward you, eyes heavy with fatigue but filled with warmth. “Not the party. Just them.”

From the front seat, Heeseung—who had offered to ride with you two—cleared his throat. “I can hear you, by the way.”

Jungwon groaned, closing his eyes. “I know. That’s why I said it.”

Heeseung let out an exaggerated sigh. “This is how you treat your beloved hyung? After I singlehandedly orchestrated your entire surprise?”

You grinned. “To be fair, he does have a point, Won.”

Jungwon opened one eye, narrowing it at you. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

You shrugged. “He’s my partner-in-crime. I have to give him some credit.”

Heeseung smirked. “Exactly. Someone appreciates my hard work.”

Jungwon let out a dramatic sigh before turning back to you. “Fine. Thank you, Heeseung-hyung. You’re the best hyung in the world. I’m eternally grateful.”

His tone was so robotic that Heeseung actually gagged. “Okay, never mind. I take back everything. You’re ungrateful.”

You burst into laughter as Jungwon smirked in victory.

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence, the van rocking gently as it cruised through the city. You glanced at Jungwon, noticing how his body had started to relax completely, his head resting against the seat. His eyes blinked slower, his grip on your hand loosening just slightly.

“You’re exhausted,” you murmured.

Jungwon hummed sleepily. “Mhm.”

You ran your fingers gently through his damp hair, feeling him melt into your touch. “You should sleep.”

“Not yet,” he mumbled, blinking up at you with a lazy smile. “Wanna spend every second with you tonight.”

Your heart clenched at the softness in his voice.

“Jungwon,” you whispered, brushing a thumb over his cheek.

He hummed again, eyes half-lidded.

“You’ll still have me tomorrow,” you promised. “And the day after that.”

His lips curled into a small smile. “Good.”

Heeseung, who had been minding his business, suddenly spoke. “I am still here, by the way.”

Jungwon groaned. “Hyung, please.”

Heeseung snorted. “Nah, it’s fine. I love being a third wheel. Really. It’s my favorite thing.”

You giggled as Jungwon shot him a glare, but the moment was short-lived—because not even Heeseung’s teasing could stop Jungwon’s body from shutting down.

Within minutes, his head slowly tilted to the side, resting against your shoulder.

You glanced down, only to find him fully asleep, his breathing deep and steady.

Your heart softened.

Carefully, you adjusted yourself so he could be more comfortable, wrapping an arm around him. He instinctively nuzzled closer, his fingers loosely curling around the fabric of your sleeve.

Heeseung peeked at the rearview mirror and smirked. “Wow. Out cold.”

You smiled, running your fingers through Jungwon’s hair again. “He worked hard today.”

Heeseung nodded. “Yeah… but also, he’s just really whipped.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I know.”

The car continued rolling through the city, the lights casting soft glows across Jungwon’s peaceful face.

And in that moment, you realized something.

For all the teasing, for all the chaos, for all the exhaustion—this was perfect.

Jungwon had his fans. His members. His music.

And now, he had you, too.

And that was all that mattered.

By the time the van pulled up to the hotel entrance, Jungwon was completely out.

His head was still resting on your shoulder, his breath warm against your collarbone, his body pressed comfortably against yours. Every few minutes, his fingers would twitch slightly—like he was still subconsciously holding onto you even in sleep.

You smiled softly, brushing a hand through his hair. “Won, we’re here.”

Nothing.

Heeseung leaned over from the front seat, peering at Jungwon’s sleeping form. He raised an eyebrow. “Is he even breathing?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Heeseung. He’s just exhausted.”

“Hmm.” Heeseung poked Jungwon’s arm. “Hey, birthday boy. Wake up.”

Jungwon didn’t even stir.

You giggled. “Heeseung, I don’t think that’s gonna work.”

“Watch and learn.” Heeseung cleared his throat and said, in a serious voice, “Jungwon-ah, staff said we need to redo the encore performance. Get up.”

Jungwon immediately twitched.

You and Heeseung watched in real-time as his eyes fluttered open, his body tensing slightly—until he finally registered his surroundings.

Then, he groaned and buried his face back into your shoulder. “Hyung, I hate you.”

Heeseung burst out laughing. “Hey, at least now you’re awake.”

Jungwon muttered something under his breath that was definitely not PG-rated, but it only made Heeseung laugh harder.

You giggled, rubbing Jungwon’s back soothingly. “Come on, love. Let’s get you inside.”

With a dramatic sigh, Jungwon finally sat up, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. His hair was slightly messy from sleeping on you, and his voice was adorably raspy when he mumbled, “Carry me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Heeseung snorted. “Yeah, no. You’re on your own, dude.”

Jungwon pouted but ultimately sighed in defeat, dragging himself out of the van. The moment you both stepped into the hotel lobby, the warm air hit your skin, the dim lighting making everything feel cozier.

The staff greeted Jungwon quietly, congratulating him on his performance before directing you both to his room. Heeseung, finally finished with his babysitting duties, stretched his arms. “Alright, lovebirds, I’m out. Try not to be too disgusting.”

Jungwon yawned, waving him off. “Goodnight, hyung.”

You grinned. “Thanks for everything, Heeseung.”

Heeseung winked before disappearing down the hall, leaving you and Jungwon standing outside his hotel room.

Jungwon sighed, fumbling with the key card. “I feel like I’m gonna pass out the second I hit the bed.”

You smirked. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Yeah, but I also don’t want to waste time with you,” he murmured, finally pushing the door open.

Your heart softened at his words.

The hotel room was spacious, modern, and filled with warm lighting. A massive king-sized bed took up most of the space, the blankets neatly arranged. Jungwon immediately kicked off his shoes, stretching his arms with a groan before flopping onto the bed face-first.

You laughed. “That tired, huh?”

His voice was muffled against the pillow. “I can’t move.”

You shook your head fondly, setting your bag down before sitting beside him on the mattress. “Want me to get you some water?”

He turned his head slightly, cracking one eye open. “Just lay with me.”

Your lips curled into a soft smile. “Bossy.”

Still, you didn’t argue. You kicked off your shoes, shifting onto the bed beside him. The moment you did, Jungwon instinctively rolled over, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close.

His warmth, his scent, the steady rise and fall of his chest—it was all so him.

Your fingers gently played with the strands of his hair. “You did amazing today.”

Jungwon hummed sleepily. “Mmm.”

“I mean it,” you whispered. “I watched the whole performance. You were incredible.”

His grip on you tightened slightly, his voice quieter now. “It’s always easier when I know you’re watching.”

Your heart clenched at his words.

You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, watching as his lips curled into a tiny, sleepy smile.

“Happy birthday, love,” you murmured.

Jungwon let out a deep breath, his body completely relaxing against yours.

And just like that, he fell asleep in your arms.

Jungwon slept soundly for a while, his body finally surrendering to exhaustion. His arms remained wrapped around you, his breathing slow and steady, his face completely at peace.

You didn’t mind one bit.

You stayed there with him, running your fingers through his hair, tracing soft patterns on his back. He looked so soft like this—so young, so free from the pressures of being a leader, a performer, an idol. Right now, he was just Jungwon. Your Jungwon.

Eventually, he stirred, letting out a soft hum as his eyes fluttered open. He blinked up at you, dazed and sleepy, before a slow, lazy smile spread across his lips.

“Hey,” he mumbled, voice raspy.

You smiled back. “Hey, birthday boy.”

He groaned, burying his face into your neck. “I’m still not used to hearing that.”

You giggled, rubbing his back. “Well, get used to it. I’m not done celebrating you yet.”

Jungwon lifted his head slightly, curiosity flickering in his half-lidded eyes. “What do you mean?”

You reached over to your bag, grabbing the small, neatly wrapped box you had been waiting to give him.

His brows furrowed. “What’s this?”

You handed it to him, watching as he carefully unwrapped it, his fingers gentle as ever. When he finally opened the box, his breath hitched.

Inside was a simple silver bracelet, sleek and minimalistic—just his style. But what made it special was the small engraving on the inside.

My home, my heart—always yours.

Jungwon stared at it for a long moment, his fingers tracing over the words. His lips parted slightly, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

You bit your lip. “Do you like it?”

Silence.

Then, Jungwon inhaled sharply, closing the box with a snap before you could see his face.

“Jungwon?”

Still no response.

Then, to your absolute horror, he turned away from you, shoulders hunched, hands covering his face.

Oh god.

He was crying.

Your heart stopped. “Wait—love, are you okay?”

A muffled, strangled sound came from behind his hands.

Oh no. Oh no, you broke him.

You sat up quickly, placing a hand on his back. “Jungwon, I—”

“Give me a second,” he croaked.

You blinked. “What?”

“I just—” He sucked in a breath, shoulders shaking slightly. “I need a second.”

You pursed your lips, biting back a smile. “Are you crying right now?”

“No.” His voice cracked.

You giggled, rubbing circles on his back. “You are crying.”

Jungwon finally turned to you, eyes red and glassy, cheeks flushed. “I am not crying.”

A single tear rolled down his cheek.

You stared.

He stared back.

“…Shut up,” he muttered.

You burst out laughing, and that was officially the last straw for Jungwon. With a groan, he flopped back onto the bed, throwing a pillow over his face.

“Oh my god,” he groaned. “I hate you.”

You were still giggling as you pried the pillow away. “You love me.”

Jungwon sighed dramatically, but his lips curled into a soft smile. “Unfortunately, yeah.”

Your heart swelled as you leaned down, brushing your lips against his forehead. “Then keep it on forever, okay?”

Jungwon sat up slightly, slipping the bracelet onto his wrist. He stared at it for a long moment before turning to you, his expression completely soft.

“I will.”

And somehow, you knew he meant it.

Jungwon was still staring at the bracelet on his wrist, turning it slightly under the warm hotel room lights. His fingers traced the engraving again, as if memorizing the feel of it.

You watched him with a soft smile, resting your chin on your palm. “You’re still thinking about it, huh?”

He blinked up at you, lips slightly parted before he nodded. “Yeah.”

Your fingers reached out to gently take his hand, brushing your thumb over the bracelet. “You really like it?”

Jungwon huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “I love it.” Then, quieter, he murmured, “I love you.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

You knew he loved you—he had shown it in so many ways, in his small gestures, his thoughtful words, the way he looked at you like you were his whole world. But hearing him say it so plainly, so softly, with the weight of today still lingering in the air, made warmth bloom in your chest.

You leaned in, pressing a feather-light kiss to his lips. It was slow, unhurried—like the both of you had all the time in the world. Jungwon sighed into the kiss, his fingers curling around your wrist, grounding himself in you.

When you finally pulled away, he was gazing at you with sleep-heavy eyes, his expression completely open and vulnerable.

You nudged his nose playfully. “Sleep, birthday boy.”

Jungwon groaned but obediently flopped back onto the bed, pulling you down with him. His arms wrapped around your waist, his body molding perfectly against yours.

You laughed softly. “Comfortable?”

He let out a content sigh, nuzzling into your neck. “Mhm.”

The steady sound of his breathing filled the room, and you felt his body fully relax against yours. His fingers were still loosely intertwined with yours, his grip soft but steady—like even in sleep, he didn’t want to let go.

You pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head, whispering, “Sweet dreams, birthday boy.”

And just like that, Jungwon drifted off, the softest smile still lingering on his lips.

© all rights reserved ─ @gyu-tori 2025

Rei's Notes ✎: I MADE IT ON TIME TO SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE YANG JUNGWON! He's been killing my heart so much recently~ He needs to give me a break or I'll start dropping on my knees for him. ALSO!! First enhypen fic so I hope you guys enjoy hehe~ This was very rushed so lmk if there are any errors or mistakes!!

⟢ Taglist: @yunverie @dawngyu @hueningstar @hhoneyhan @immelissaaa @lovingbeomgyudayone @xylatox @i-like-to-read-at-4am @imlonelydontsendhelp @ode2soob

[cheftsunoda]

secrets are no fun (unless shared with everyone)

part seven (finale)

lewis hamilton x !sister reader

max verstappen x hamilton reader

part one here

part two here

part three here

part four here

part five here

part six here

ayana hamilton, the younger sister of seven-time world champion lewis hamilton, has seemingly achieved everything she could ever desire— a successful career as a music producer and artist, been all around the world, has a supportive family and a loving husband—however, that’s a secret that no one, not even her brother, knows about—her husband is also an f1 driver. lewis has always made it his mission to prevent ayana from dating a driver— but is it technically considered dating if they are married? ;)

fc : tyla

—

ayanaaa and maxverstappen1

liked by maxverstappen1, victoriaverstappen, kikagomes & 11,482,455 others.

ayanaaa : the most amazing day celebrating baby v—i love you all so much and i am so grateful for how much love and support you have all shown our baby.

maxverstappen1 : The best day spent celebrating our beautiful future. I love you and baby V to the moon and back

liked by author

lewishamilton : Uncle Lew is so excited to meet this munchkin. Love you <3

liked by author and maxverstappen1

victoriaverstappen : great day! so excited for the arrival of baby v!

liked by author and maxverstappen1

kikagomes : beautiful day celebrating the most beautiful mama

liked by author

danielricciardo : never knew i could have this much fun at a baby shower..so excited to meet baby v!!

liked by author and maxverstappen1

username5 : the whole grid + danny being there really has me in tears

alexandrasaintmleux : so happy you enjoyed yourself today mama! you look so stunning

liked by author

sza : such a lovely day spent celebrating you and the precious life you are growing. so excited to be an auntie to baby v -- love you all

liked by author and maxverstappen1

—

The house smelled like lilacs and vanilla.

Solana and I had just gotten back from the last leg of our tour, my feet still sore, my voice still hoarse, and my belly noticeably rounder than when we’d first left. The album was already platinum. The sold-out stadiums still echoed in my head. But now... this moment felt bigger.

Because this was real life.

My baby shower.

The villa in the hills of Monaco had been transformed into a summer garden dream — soft pinks, cream linens, subtle gold accents, and giant blooming arrangements of peonies, orchids, and wild roses everywhere you looked. Hanging above the patio were dozens of delicate parasols, casting dappled shade over the guests mingling in sundresses and linen suits.

And somehow, the F1 grid blended in perfectly with the floral decor.

Lando showed up in pink Dior sneakers. Carlos brought handmade pastries from Madrid. Pierre and Kika arrived arm in arm, with matching sunglasses and a baby-sized race suit wrapped in tissue paper. Even Fernando gave me a warm, cheek-kissing congrats.

Carmen wore a silky green dress with an ethereal glow, and Lily kept rubbing my stomach and giggling every time the baby kicked. Alex had brought custom baby books in three languages, and Kika whispered conspiratorially, “Don’t worry, I already ordered baby Balmain.”

But the real surprise? Sophie and Victoria — had flown in from the Netherlands. They were already inside when I arrived, holding hands and helping arrange one of the last dessert trays. Sophie’s eyes watered the second she saw me.

“You’ve grown,” she said, reaching for my hands. “You look like you’re glowing from the inside.”

I hugged her tightly. “It’s probably just sweat. Monaco humidity is no joke.”

She laughed and held my face. “No. It’s love.”

Victoria smiled from behind her. “And maybe a little Beyoncé energy from the tour.”

Lewis was at the bar — shaking cocktails and mocktails with a towel over his shoulder like he ran the place. Our dad stood beside him, already taste-testing everything. Our mom was near the garden arch, arms crossed proudly, taking in every inch of the celebration with a regal sort of grace. The moment she spotted me, she came straight over, one hand on my back, the other softly cupping my stomach.

“You were born to be a mother,” she whispered.

I felt the tears rise before I could stop them. “You think so?”

“I know so. You’ve always been tender, but never weak. This baby’s already lucky.”

Solana floated up beside me in a pink feathered gown and oversized sunglasses, holding two tiny glasses of lavender lemonade.

“You ready to open presents?” she asked, bouncing slightly. “Because the aunties and uncles went all-out and I wanna see what spoiled looks like.”

The gifts were hilarious and heartfelt. A miniature Red Bull racing helmet from the team, with “Baby Verstappen-Hamilton” airbrushed on the back, A bib from Charles that said DRIVER IN TRAINING, Matching cashmere blankets from Lily and Alex and a custom onesie from Lewis.

“I hate how cute that is,” I told him, holding it up.

“You’re welcome,” he said smugly, pulling me in for a side hug. “And don’t forget who’s taking night shifts if Max’s away.”

Max — who had been quiet most of the afternoon, finally stood beside me as I cut into the cake. It was soft and white with hand-painted flowers, the inside dyed pale yellow. The whole group gasped.

Someone whispered, “Wait... does yellow mean…?”

“It means lemon-flavored,” Solana deadpanned. “Calm down.”

Laughter rippled through the crowd. Max leaned down, his lips brushing my ear.

“You okay?”

I looked around: everyone I loved in one place. The child in my belly fluttering like music. The scent of home and the echo of my name spoken with warmth, not headlines.

“I’m more than okay,” I said, resting my hand over his. “I’m full.”

—

The garden was quiet now. The music had faded. The last guests had filtered out, goodbyes still lingering like confetti in the air. The floral centerpieces were beginning to wilt at the edges, and stray petals littered the stone pathway like a trail back to real life.

I sat barefoot on the back steps, my heels long abandoned, swollen ankles soaking in the cool night air. Then I heard him.

Lewis’ footsteps were unmistakable. Even when he wasn’t trying to be loud, he moved like someone who'd always had to command attention just by entering a room. But now, it was just the two of us. He settled beside me without a word, holding two glasses of water and passing one over.

“Thanks,” I murmured.

We sat in silence for a few beats, watching the distant flicker of boats in the harbor, the way the lanterns still swayed overhead.

“You good?” he finally asked, glancing sideways.

“I think so,” I said, quietly. “Tired. But good.”

He nodded, arms resting on his knees. “It was a beautiful party.”

“You didn’t have to stay and play bartender,” I teased gently.

He smirked. “I didn’t have to… but I wanted to. Needed to keep myself busy. Otherwise I’d just cry and embarrass us both.”

I laughed softly, but there was something behind his words. Something tender.

“I keep thinking,” he went on, voice a little rough, “that we’re not kids anymore. I remember you falling asleep in the back seat of Mum’s car with your headphones on, notebook full of lyrics in your lap. Now look at you.”

“Exhausted and thirty percent cake,” I offered.

He nudged me with his shoulder. “Pregnant. Married. Still writing. Still fighting. You’ve built something powerful, Ay.”

I looked at him then, really looked — the way his brow creased when he was being sincere, the glint of pride in his eyes. And something else too. Love.

“You okay with everything?” I asked, finally.

He didn’t answer right away. Just leaned back on his elbows, looking up at the stars.

“I was mad at first,” he admitted. “Mostly because I didn’t know. Because I wanted to protect you, and I wasn’t there. But now?”

He turned his head toward me.

“Now I see the way Max looks at you. I see the way you glow when you talk about your future — about your baby. And I’m not mad anymore. I’m proud. So proud it scares me.”

My throat tightened.

“I’m always going to be your big brother,” he said, reaching for my hand and squeezing it. “But you don’t need saving anymore. You never did.”

I leaned my head against his shoulder, heart full and eyes burning.

“You’ll still spoil them though, right?” I whispered. “Teach them how to drive, bribe them with gifts, let them stay up too late?”

He snorted. “Please. I plan to be the most chaotic uncle in the paddock.”

We sat like that a little longer — the Hamilton siblings, side by side beneath the stars, sharing a moment that belonged only to us.

—

The moonlight slid in through the curtains in thin silver lines, casting soft shadows across our bedroom walls. I was already in bed, curled on my side, one hand resting instinctively over the swell of my belly.

Max was in the ensuite, brushing his teeth and humming something faint and familiar, a melody I knew from the second verse of one of my songs. It made me smile. He always did that. Picked up pieces of my world and carried them like they were his own.

When he finally padded back into the room, shirtless and sleepy-eyed, he climbed into bed beside me and immediately wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me into the shape of him.

His lips brushed the back of my neck. “Still awake?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You okay?”

I hesitated for a second. Then I nodded, but shifted just enough so I could face him.

“I was just thinking about today,” I said. “How... beautiful it was. Everyone we love, all in one place.”

Max tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, his eyes soft. “It was perfect.”

“It made me realize something,” I whispered. “We’ve already done the paperwork. We’ve had our secret. That part’s just for us. But I want something more.”

He tilted his head, curious. “More?”

“I want a wedding,” I said. “An actual one. Before the baby comes.”

Max blinked. “You mean like a ceremony?”

“Yeah,” I said, heart thudding a little. “For our families. For our friends. I want to walk down the aisle. I want music. I want Mum to cry and Lewis to give an unplanned speech. I want Vic and Solana and Kika in a row, looking stunning. I want the world to see it… us.”

His face didn’t change for a beat.

Then he smiled. Slowly. Softly. “I want that too.”

“You do?”

“Ayana,” he said, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “I would marry you a hundred times in a hundred cities if that’s what you wanted. But one beautiful wedding before our baby arrives? That’s everything.”

Relief flooded my chest, and I reached for his hand, lacing my fingers through his.

“I don’t want to wait too long. Just something elegant. Intimate. Monaco or the Netherlands, maybe Italy. Somewhere warm. And soon.”

He kissed my forehead, then the tip of my nose. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

“And you promise not to let Jos anywhere near the guest list?”

Max let out a low, tired laugh. “If he so much as tries, Solana might handle him before I do.”

I grinned and buried my face in his chest, our bodies melting into quiet.

—

We invited everyone over for brunch. Fresh fruit, tiny golden croissants, poached eggs with truffle shavings, champagne and non-alcoholic sparkling pear juice for me. Max kept brushing invisible crumbs off his T-shirt and smoothing his hair like we were about to give a TED Talk. I just kept my hands resting on my belly and tried not to overthink it.

Lewis arrived first, followed by our mum and dad. Mum dressed in soft linen, eyes immediately darting to me with a mix of love and “Are you eating enough?” Dad, of course, went straight for the mini quiches. Sophie and Victoria came next, glowing as always. Sophie brought a bouquet of soft peach tulips, placing them on the table like she already suspected something was up.

Max leaned over to whisper, “Ready?”

I squeezed his hand. “Let’s do it.”

We didn’t wait long. Once everyone had their drinks and a plate in front of them, Max stood — clearing his throat. Everyone looked up.

“So,” he said, glancing at me and then back at the table, “we wanted to share something with you all.

“We know a lot has happened this past year,” I added. “The relationship, the baby, the chaos —”

“The press,” Lewis muttered into his green juice.

“—but through all of it,” I continued, smiling, “we’ve never really had a chance to celebrate our love… not publicly, not properly.”

Max turned toward our families, eyes a little brighter now. “We want to have a wedding. A real one. A ceremony. Before the baby comes.”

There was a beat of stunned silence.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Mum breathed, hands flying to her heart. “Yes. Absolutely, yes.”

Sophie nodded, already misty-eyed. “Finally! I’ve been waiting for this.”

Victoria grinned wide. “Can I help plan it? Please?”

Our dad, ever the quiet storm, smiled deeply and raised his glass. “To tradition and new beginnings.”

Everyone’s heads turned to Lewis. He sat still for a moment, brows drawn in that careful way, the kind that meant he was thinking twelve steps ahead. I braced for it. Then he stood. Walked over to Max and I and pulled us both into a hug.

“I’m proud of you,” he said in my ear. “Both of you. Just tell me when and where, and I’ll wear whatever ridiculous suit you want.”

Max actually laughed, a full, relieved laugh — and pulled away to shake Lewis’ hand, the two of them exchanging a quiet look that didn’t need words.

Solana popped her head in through the kitchen doorway just then, late as usual, sunglasses still on indoors.

“Did I miss the announcement?”

“We’re getting married,” I said.

She pulled off her glasses. “You mean again?”

“This time in front of everyone.”

A grin spread across her face. “Bout damn time. I call maid of honor. Or DJ. Or both.”

Everyone started talking at once, suggestions about locations, flowers, dresses, vows, menus. The air filled with excitement and a bit of chaos, but underneath it all was something solid and rare.

—

If you’ve never tried to plan a wedding with ten strong-willed women in one room, I’ll tell you this much- you won’t make it out unchanged.

My living room in Monaco looked like a mood board exploded. Swatches of silk and tulle covered the coffee table, open laptops streamed Pinterest boards and Google Docs, and empty macaron boxes were stacked.

Solana was on the floor, surrounded by candles and two notebooks, somehow managing to play playlist drafts through a Bluetooth speaker and sketch a possible seating chart at the same time.

My mum was sitting on the edge of the sofa, flipping through a bridal magazine and highlighting anything “classic but unique.” Beside her, Sophie was calmly color-coding a floral proposal — the woman could run a palace if she felt like it. Across from them sat Victoria and Carmen, arguing gently over centerpiece heights.

“Kika, back me up,” Carmen said, gesturing wildly. “Low centerpieces mean more intimacy. People can talk across the table!”

“Yes, but tall ones feel more elegant,” Victoria replied, sipping her lavender tea like a queen. “It’s not dinner at your aunt’s house. It’s a wedding.”

Kika, held up her hands. “What if we do both? Alternating tables?”

Lily nodded quickly, jotting it down in the shared spreadsheet. “Love that. Also—Ayana, are we doing vows during golden hour? Because if yes, I need to coordinate the lighting for photos.”

I blinked. “Um—yes?”

“Confirmed,” Lily said. “Sunset silhouettes. Done.”

Mum leaned over and gently patted my hand. “Darling, are you sure you’re not overwhelmed? You haven’t said much.”

“I’m… actually good,” I said, amazed. “I think I just love seeing all of you here. Together. Helping.”

Solana, without looking up, said, “Don’t get sentimental yet. Wait till we talk honeymoon destinations. Max gave me permission to be unhinged.”

I laughed, sinking deeper into the couch.

Sophie reached over and smoothed my hair back gently. “You really okay, sweetheart?”

“I am,” I said, smiling. “I’m happy. Exhausted, but happy.”

Victoria grinned. “Good. Because we still need to narrow down your dress silhouette. And I’m not letting you leave this room until we’ve done a walk-off.”

“And choose your bouquet,” added Mum, holding up a page with cascading orchids.

“Oh,” Kika perked up. “And who’s walking you down the aisle?”

That made everyone pause.

I exhaled slowly and smiled. “I wanted both Lewis and Dad."

There was a collective, emotional “awww” around the room.

“I want him there at the start of this next chapter,” I added. “He’s earned that moment.”

Solana leaned over from her spot on the rug. “And I expect a speech that makes me cry.”

“You’ll cry anyway,” I teased.

She grinned. “Fair.”

—

The boutique smelled like white roses and vanilla candles, it was an instant calm, which was immediately undone by the ten women who walked in with me. Sophie had a leather-bound notebook, Victoria had two Pinterest boards open, and Kika was already negotiating champagne flutes out of the boutique assistant like a pro. Mum, bless her, was quietly tearing up before I’d even touched a dress hanger.

“I’m not crying,” she sniffed. “I just… imagined this day for so long.”

Solana leaned over and whispered, “You are crying, and it’s adorable.”

The assistant led us into a private suite with racks and racks of gowns. Silks, satins, laces. I felt slightly dizzy looking at them all.

“Alright,” she said cheerfully, clapping her hands. “Let’s find your moment.”

I tried on the first three without fanfare. Too stiff. Too sparkly. Too much like a red carpet look and not enough like me.

The fourth one was soft ivory, with sheer off-the-shoulder sleeves and delicate embroidery that looked like wind-blown petals across the bodice. The skirt flowed like a sigh, not too heavy, not too princessy — just fluid and romantic. The veil was light, like morning mist.

When I stepped out, the room actually fell quiet.

Solana gasped first. “Okay. That’s illegal. You can’t look that good.”

My mum had her hands to her mouth.

“I think it’s the one,” I said quietly, looking in the mirror.

“It’s you,” Sophie said softly. “Completely.”

“Turn,” Lily said, eyes misting. “You need to see the train—oh my god, Ayana, you’re glowing.”

“I feel like me in this,” I admitted, touching the fabric like it might vanish.

“Just the bride,” Mum whispered.

We said yes to the dress.

—

Later that evening, after everyone had drifted off, Mum back to her hotel, the girls to their own dinner plans — Solana and I curled up in the penthouse living room, barefoot, faces scrubbed clean, curls tied up in a scarf. We were eating chocolate from the boutique’s thank-you basket and watching a dumb baking show with the volume low.

“I can’t believe I’m getting married,” I murmured, my fingers brushing over the soft outline of my belly.

“You’re already married,” Solana said through a mouthful of dark truffle. “Now you just get to wear the dress and make everyone cry.”

I smiled. “It’s finally starting to feel real.”

She looked over at me, her expression gentling. “You’re not scared?”

“I am. Not of Max, or the baby, or the love part,” I admitted. “But of the world. Of not being enough. Or being too much.”

Solana reached for my hand.

“Listen to me,” she said. “You are already doing what most people are too afraid to — loving loudly, growing boldly, protecting your peace. The world’s gonna try and catch up to that. And they will. But you? You don’t owe them anything but your joy.”

I blinked back a sting of tears. “How did I get so lucky with you?”

“I manifested you,” she grinned. “Back in like 2012. I said, ‘I need a ride-or-die friend who can harmonize and raise hell.’ And you appeared.”

We laughed. Then sat there in quiet comfort, the city buzzing beyond the windows.

—

I could not sleep at all that night- Solana fast asleep next to me. Max was staying with Daniel as we agreed to not see each other until the ceremony the next day. I decided to do the one thing I knew how to do best-- write.

My love,

I can’t sleep. I keep thinking that tomorrow, we stand in front of everyone who has ever meant something to us and say out loud what we already know in our bones.

We’ve been married for a while now — in secret, in quiet, in shadows that strangely made everything burn brighter. But tomorrow feels different. Tomorrow, the world sees what we’ve always protected. What we’ve held close like fire in our hands.

They see us.

I’ve been trying to put words to this feeling — what it means to love you in the hush of hotel rooms, across oceans and racetracks, in stolen glances and shared playlists. And what it now means to love you in front of our families, our friends, the cameras, the noise. The chaos.

You are my peace in a storm I never saw coming. You are the quiet voice that steadies me. You are home — even when the world spins too fast and I forget where I’m standing.

I still remember Vegas. How my hands shook and yours didn’t. How you said "forever" like it was the easiest promise you’d ever made. That night was ours. Sacred. Unfiltered. We didn’t need an altar to make it real.

But now we get to share it. And that’s terrifying. And beautiful.

I know this hasn’t always been easy. Loving me means loving my past, my people, my protective brother. It means holding my hand when the headlines sting and reminding me who I am when I forget.

And I know loving you means weathering critics, standing firm when old ghosts resurface, and choosing me even when it complicates everything.

But Max… we keep choosing each other. Again and again. And that’s what makes this real.

So tomorrow, when I walk toward you in the dress that made my mum cry and Solana scream, I’ll be thinking of every version of us that got us here.

Vegas. Monaco. Our little kitchen mornings. The studio. The paddock. Every whispered “I love you” when the world wasn’t listening.

And this time, I’ll say it louder.

I love you, Max Verstappen. Husband of mine. Father of our child. My person in every lifetime.

See you at the altar.

Forever yours, Ayana

—

max!pov

The Monaco sun had barely crested the hills, casting a golden glow over the harbor, but I was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed in a hotel suite that was too big, too quiet without her in it.

Ayana had stayed with Solana last night, insisting on some “superstitious bridal tradition,” and I didn’t argue. I knew she needed that space. I needed mine too. The kind of silence where you can really feel the weight of everything about to happen.

I didn’t expect to find her letter on the nightstand. Handwritten, tucked into the journal she always brought with her on tour, with Max — read this alone written across the front in soft cursive.

So I waited until the suite was completely still. No stylists. No chaos. Just me, the sunlight, and the steady thrum of the sea below.

I unfolded the letter with careful hands. And then I read her words — every one of them pulling something deeper out of me.

Halfway through, my throat tightened.

You are home — even when the world spins too fast and I forget where I’m standing.

God, how does she do that? How does she see the exact parts of me no one else ever bothered to look for?

I let the paper rest on my lap, staring out the window, my mind full of her voice.

Ayana wasn’t just someone I loved. She was the one I chose — again and again, even when it was inconvenient, when it was complicated, when it meant keeping something sacred locked behind closed doors for far too long.

And now… now we got to tell the truth. Out loud.

For months, I’d watched her carry the weight of our love like it was something fragile — shielding it from the noise, the press, the fear of losing control. But tomorrow, she wouldn’t have to protect it anymore.

We wouldn’t.

There was a knock on the door, probably Lewis or my tailor. But I sat there for just a moment longer.

I held her letter to my chest. Closed my eyes.

And I whispered, “I’ll be waiting for you.”

—

ayana!pov

The sound of the string quartet floated through the garden like something from a dream — soft violins melting into the breeze, the gentle rustle of leaves, the quiet shuffle of guests finding their seats.

We chose a private villa tucked into the cliffs of the Côte d'Azur. Sea to one side. Blooming jasmine and rose vines climbing the stone walls on the other. No press. No cameras. Just the people we loved most.

My heart beat like a drum in my chest. I stood inside the villa’s main room, surrounded by women who had become my anchors — Solana fastening my necklace with trembling hands, Sophie smoothing down my veil, my mum whispering prayers under her breath.

“You ready?” Solana asked, her eyes already shining.

I nodded. “I think so. I just… feel everything.”

“You should. You’re about to change your life,” she said, then smirked. “But also, like, your glow is illegal. I’m going to cry the second you walk out there.”

My lips curved. “Please don’t make me cry before I get down the aisle.”

But I already felt the tears building. I wasn’t nervous. I wasn’t even scared. I just felt full of love, of memory, of every small moment that had led me to this exact one.

Someone knocked gently. Lewis.

When he stepped in, he didn’t say a word. He just looked at me — eyes full, jaw tight with emotion and opened his arms.

“I still remember when you were six and convinced you were going to marry your keyboard,” he whispered into my hair. “You’ve come a long way, Ay.”

I laughed through my tears. “This one’s even better.”

We stepped out together.

The aisle curved gently through the garden. Guests turned, rising. Solana was right, I did feel like I was glowing. The dress floated as I walked. The sunlight kissed the flowers that lined the path.

And then I saw him.

Max stood at the altar, flanked by Daniel and Lando, wearing a deep navy suit that made his eyes burn bright even from here. His hand clenched his cuff, a nervous tick. His chest rose, like he couldn’t quite believe I was real.

The second our eyes met, the rest of the world faded.

Lewis kissed my cheek, whispered, “Go get your forever,” and handed me off.

And then Max took my hand warm, steady and everything inside me stilled.

The officiant began. I barely heard a word. All I could focus on was the way Max looked at me like I was the only thing that had ever mattered. Like I was his future, his family, his home.

When it came time to speak, I didn’t need a cue card.

“I loved you when no one knew. In the dark. In the quiet. But I love you louder now. In light, in truth, in front of everyone who’s ever meant something to us. You are my safest place, Max. My beginning and my home.”

He swallowed hard, blinking fast.

“I didn’t know love could be this — soft,” he said, voice thick. “You made me believe in peace. In partnership. In building something that doesn’t just survive… but thrives. I promise to never let go of that. Of you.”

Tears were freely falling now. We exchanged rings.

“You may now kiss—”

He didn’t wait. His hand cradled the back of my head, lips pressing into mine like we had all the time in the world. Like we were writing our story in that moment.

Just Us.

Applause thundered. Cheers rang out. Somewhere in the background, Solana was definitely sobbing. We turned toward the crowd — hand in hand, married in the sun.

—

The villa had transformed.

What was once a quiet clifftop garden had become a warm-lit wonderland. String lights stretched from tree to tree, casting golden halos over our guests. Candles flickered on long banquet tables draped in soft ivory linen, scattered with peonies, garden roses, and the faintest scent of lemon blossom.

The sea shimmered in the distance. Music pulsed low, a live jazz trio humming softly as everyone settled in.

Max and I had barely sat down at our sweetheart table before Solana appeared, champagne flute in hand, already halfway into a speech she clearly hadn’t written down.

“Okay, okay—before the mic gets passed around and people start crying in Dutch, let me get this out,” she said, grinning as everyone laughed.

Max squeezed my hand under the table.

Solana continued. “I’ve known Ayana since we were teenagers producing beats in her parents’ basement and pretending we were already Grammy winners. Even back then, she had that thing. That quiet fire. The one that says ‘I’ll do it my way, even if it scares me.’” She looked straight at me. “And then she met you, Max. And you somehow made that fire burn calmer. Brighter. You love her with so much ease — and I see that. We all do. I love you both, and I can’t wait to babysit this child who is 1000% going to be born with rhythm and road rage.”

Laughter roared. I wiped a tear from my cheek.

Then Daniel took the mic. “As Max’s friend and someone he used to drive against, I’ve seen him in every kind of moment — victory, loss, full rage mode when he’s hungry. But Ayana...you made him human in the best way. Softer. Lighter. And if he ever forgets to say thank you for that, don’t worry, I’ll remind him. Loudly.”

Then came Sophie.

She walked slowly, holding a wine glass in both hands, her voice thick with emotion.

“When Max was born, I didn’t know he’d one day grow up to find someone who could look into his storm and stay. Ayana, you’ve done that — with grace, with patience, with music and love and even when it cost you quiet. You’ve made our family better. I’m proud to call you my daughter.”

I didn’t even bother holding back tears at that point.

Finally, Lewis stood up. There was a ripple of anticipation, a hush, and then his voice broke the silence.

“I’ve been protective of Ayana since the day she was born. She was the one I built forts for, played songs for, chased boys off for and watching her fall in love with someone who respects her, protects her, and actually makes her laugh… that’s something no big brother could ever ask for but hope like hell happens. Max, you’ve got her back. I see it. Just know… if you don’t keep having it, I’ve still got hers.”

The room applauded. Max stood, walked over, and hugged him. A long, firm, real hug. The kind that said a lot without saying much. When it was finally our turn to speak, Max looked at me.

“You want to go first?” he whispered.

I shook my head. “You go. I’ll cry less.”

Max stood, raising his glass. “We got married once already — in secret, in Vegas, with nothing but adrenaline and vows whispered under neon lights. That night was ours. But tonight, this moment, belongs to all of us. Every person who stood by us. Protected us. Believed in us. Ayana is my home, my family, the mother of our child, and my greatest peace. And I just want to say thank you. For everything.”

I stood, somehow not collapsing from the emotion. “I spent a long time afraid of loving loudly. Of what the world would say, what it would take. But Max taught me that love—real love—is worth claiming. Worth protecting. Worth celebrating. Thank you for letting us do that tonight, with you.”

Glasses clinked. Cheers echoed. And then the music started. We danced under the stars. I twirled in my second gown — flowy and champagne-colored — while Max kept his hand pressed to the small of my back like he never wanted to let go. Solana spun Lewis in a circle. Charles pulled Alex into a dip. Carmen and George had a dance-off. Kika and Pierre tried to break into the jazz set list with a SZA request.It was beautiful chaos. The kind of night that glowed at the edges.

Later, Max and I snuck off toward the cliffside balcony, just the two of us, shoes in hand, champagne flutes almost empty.

He looked at me, then at the sea. “Still want forever?”

I leaned into him, pressing my forehead to his. “Every single day.”

—

The hospital room was quiet, except for the occasional beep of the machines monitoring me and the rhythmic hush of Max's breathing beside me. The only other sound in the room was the soft shuffle of the nurse's steps as she checked on me every few minutes. It was late, the moonlight cast soft shadows across the room, and everything felt almost surreal. Max sat close to me, his hand never leaving mine. His brow was furrowed with concentration, eyes focused on me as though the entire world rested in the space between us.

"I’m here, princess," he whispered, leaning closer to me. "We’ve got this. Just a little longer."

I nodded, trying to steady my breath. The contractions were getting closer, more intense, and I could feel myself growing more tired. But through it all, Max was my anchor. His presence was everything I needed in that moment. His hand, so steady in mine, reminded me that this was the final stretch and then we would meet our daughter. I was scared. I didn’t know what the future would look like, but I knew that Max was right here, and he was everything I needed. The hours seemed to stretch on forever, but finally, the time came.

The doctor checked again, her face lighting up as she looked at me. "You’re doing amazing, Ayana. Just one more push, and she’ll be here."

I squeezed Max’s hand harder. His voice was a constant, reassuring hum beside me. "I love you," he said, pressing his forehead to mine. "You’re incredible."

With that final push, there was a rush of relief, and then the sound of a newborn crying.

Max’s eyes filled with tears, his lips trembling as he looked at me. "We did it," he said, his voice cracking. "We have a daughter."

The nurse brought her over, still crying, wrapped in a soft blanket. Max’s hand was on my shoulder, but when they handed me our daughter, I could feel the weight of the world shift. She was here. Our baby girl. Her tiny face scrunched up in that adorable, newborn way, and I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. She was perfect. She was ours.

Max leaned in, his hand gently brushing the top of her head. "Hey, Elara," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "We’ve been waiting for you."

I looked up at him, tears in my eyes. "Elara," I whispered, testing her name out loud. "I love it."

Max smiled, his eyes still on our baby. "Elara Verstappen. Our little star."

I held her close, overwhelmed with the love I felt for Max, for Elara, for this moment that had felt like both a lifetime and an instant. We stayed in the quiet, just the three of us. Max watched Elara with such wonder, his eyes never leaving her tiny face, and I couldn’t help but smile through my exhaustion.

Hours passed, and when we were finally settled, Max sent a quick message to the family. The waiting room was filled with anticipation, but he was keeping them at bay, letting us have our time.

A few hours later, the door creaked open, and Lewis was the first to step in. His eyes darted straight to the baby in my arms, a soft, amazed smile on his face.

"She’s perfect, Ayana," he said, walking over. "Max… she’s perfect."

Max nodded, his voice thick. "She’s ours, man."

"Want to hold her?" I asked and he nodded quickly, preparing his arms for his newborn niece. Max gently placed her into Lewis' arms and his eyes lit up. He began to coo to her softly. I felt tears develop in my eyes as I saw a stray one fall down his cheek.

"She is so beautiful." He murmured.

"I'm your Uncle Lewis...you will be meeting a lot of aunties and uncles soon but I am the most fun." He whispered and Max and I chuckled.

"Uncle and godfather." I said and Lewis just smiled at me and released a few more tears.

"I will always protect you, little angel." He said smiling.

Solana slowly entered next holding a large bouquet of pink flowers. She set them down on a table and rushed over to me. She placed a gentle kiss on my forehead.

"Before I see this beautiful baby...how is mama doing? You're definitely glowing." She said with a smile sitting beside me on the bed.

"Doing great, love." I murmured while watching Lewis cradle Elara.

"Is this my little Elara?" She said approaching Lewis and the newborn.

"Sol-- meet your goddaughter Elara Imani Verstappen." I said with a smile and she let out a gasp.

"Named after me and godmother-?" She stuttered taking her tiny finger in her hand softly. Max and I shared a smile. Lewis gently passed her over to Solana and I see emotion quickly flush her face.

"She is stunning. The most beautiful being I have ever seen...besides your mama." She hummed while gently playing with Elara's little fingers. Max and I both grew a big smile.

"I'm Auntie Sol...I will always be your right hand and love you the most obviously besides Mama, Dad and Uncle Lew. You can always come to me and rely on me for every little thing. I intend on spending the rest of my life spoiling you, angel." She said and began singing a light tune to her. I lean back against Max—taking in the moment.

Sophie, Mum and Dad and most of the grid had been through to meet Miss Elara and I was overjoyed. I do not think I could be any happier in life. After a while, the room settled, and Max and I were left alone with our baby. The soft buzz of conversation faded outside the door as we gazed down at Elara, both of us silent.

Max stayed close to my side, his hand never leaving mine, his eyes flicking between me and Elara as though still in disbelief. "She’s… so tiny. How is she ours?"

"Because we made her," I said, squeezing his hand. "Together."

"She’s perfect," Max murmured again, his voice filled with awe.

I smiled, feeling the weight of everything we’d been through together — the wedding, the tour, the secret, the press — all of it led to this moment. Our family was finally complete.

"We’re doing this, Max. Together," I whispered. "We have a beautiful future ahead."

He looked at me, and then at Elara, his eyes soft with love. “Forever, Ayana. Just us. And her.”

—

ayanaaa and maxverstappen1

liked by maxverstappen1, sza, lewishamilton & 15,356,939 others.

ayanaaa : a little over a month with miss elara imani verstappen and we could not be more in love and over the moon.,

sol even went on sesame street so she could entertain elara while she was away:)

username7 : SZA GOING ON SESAME ST JUST FOR THE BABY I CANT IM IN TEARS

liked by author

username5 : THE BABY IS NAMED AFTER SOL

liked by author

lewishamilton : Precious angel- could never love anyone as much...besides Roscoe...and you, sis.

liked by author

sza : love my angel godbaby so much-- the most precious being. auntie sol will be home soon

liked by author

maxverstappen1 : We made the most perfect baby. Thank you for being the best mother and wife on the planet. Love you and Lara more than life itself.

liked by author

kikagomes : can i come over for baby snugs? i bring gifts for mamas too...

liked by author

ayanaaa : you are always welcome keeks

alexandrasaintmleux : i'm coming too !!

liked by author

lilymhe : omw!

liked by author

victoriaverstappen : the most beautiful baby girl

liked by author

username10 : wonder what jos thinks now lmao

sza : if i ever see that fucker it is on sight

liked by author and maxverstappen1

—

finale!! let me know what kind of series you all would want next —open to any ideas.

tag : @klauslovemepls , @omgsuperstarg @msliz @samanthaofanarchy , @mayax2o07 @goldenstrawberryx , @hannahmotors10 @alireads27 , @1800-love-me , @htpssgavi @cmgmikealson , @babygirl-4986 , @star73807-blog , @glow-ish , @just-tingz-virgo , @majapapaya4 @lina505 , @hc-dutch , @lost4lyrics , @angelluv16 @dilflover44

[just1cefor4ll]

hii! i love your writing so much! So can i request Joost x fellow artist!reader with one bed trope? Something like - Joost and reader have tour together, but hotel staff messes up their reservation and instead of two different rooms they get one and maybe reader is all shy with the whole situation bc she has feelings for him idunno 😭🙏

Awkward Situations

Joost Klein x artist!reader

summarry: ..one bed in the hotel room, how does that go when both of you just want to go to sleep after a tiring day from touring

genre: fluff!

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“I’m very sorry, but all rooms are booked for the night so there is nothing I can do for you other then give you the card to the room we booked for you.” The receptionist says to you, looking at you with a sympathetic look. You’ve been trying to bargain with her for the past 15 minutes, telling her you booked a totally different room but the hotel was full since it was summer and most people are on holiday at this time. You sigh, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and take the key card, thanking her quietly before grabbing your suitcase and leaving. Joost trailed quietly behind you, letting you cool down since you were a bit upset from the situation. Anyone would be since you were tired from performing all day and couldn’t wait to have some tine for yourself but the hotel just had to mess something up. You didn’t try and cause a scene, it was mostly just going back and forth trying to find a solution but without success.

You walked down the hall, dragging your luggage with you and open the door, setting your stuff down and grabbing important stuff before running off to the bathroom. Meanwhile Joost looked around the room. It had a lot of space, the balcony giving you a great view of Frankfurt, the place you performed tonight. He lit a cigarette and snapped a quick photo before putting his phone away and admiring the view. He watched the cars pass by, music softly playing somewhere across the street and laughing could be heard just a few streets away. He threw the cigarette away, walking back into the warm atmosphere of the hotel. You were already done with getting yourself ready for the bed, laying down on your stomach and watching something on your laptop. You edited some footage your crew took from the concert and tried to get as much done as possible before deciding to watch a movie. You put on a random shitty comedy movie, getting comfortable under the covers. You were on the side of the bed where the nightstand was, leaving Joost to sleep on the side near the wall. You heard him get out the bathroom and feel the bed sink, a strong smell of some random shampoo hitting you like a truck. You got some butterflies in your stomach, trying to focus on the movie.

You were half asleep at around 2:29 AM, yawning and putting on a different movie. You closed your eyes, Joost already asleep and snoring softly. He was the type to always toss and turn in his sleep, but tonight he was suspiciously still. You were falling in and out of consciousness, seconds feeling like hours when you suddenly feel him moving around. He put a hand on your waist, a quiet yelp escaping your mouth. He pulled you a bit closer, his back only a few inched away from you. Sighing, you accept your fate and try to fall asleep, succeeding just after a few seconds.

In the morning, you felt trapped. You couldn’t move, eyes shooting open. You were faced with someone’s chest.. Joosts chest. Your face felt hot but you chose to ignore it, admiring his morning features. You didn’t dare move, knowing Joost wasn’t really the biggest fan of mornings, practically having to drag him out of bed every time you were on tour. He started shifting, his eyes slowly opening so you quickly close yours, trying to act like you’re asleep. He loosened his grip on you, you could feel his intense gaze on you before feeling lips on your forehead. “Morning..” He says in his groggy, morning voice before getting up, probably to shower or change. After what felt like hours, you open your eyes, grabbing your phone and checking the plans you had for today. The next concert was next week in Switzerland, then two days after that concert you were going to Italy. You were excited, always having the dream to travel the world someday which was finally becoming a reality. You shiver slightly, standing up to grab a hoodie from your suitcase and skin care, sitting down and grab a small mirror you brought so you could get ready. After finishing, you put your hair in a hairstyle you thought would fit your outfit for the day. Standing up you go on the balcony, getting some fresh air. You let your mind wander, thinking about all kinds of things before feeling a pressence beside you. Of course it was Joost, who else would it be? He stood there besidde you quietly, coffee in hand and handing you your usual. You thank him quietly, letting the warm drink heat your hands up.

It was a comfortable silence, something you usually had on mornings like these before Joost spoke up. “Slept well?” You look in his direction and nod, siping on your drink.He also nodded, the soft and comfortable atmosphere turning tense. He cleared his throat, trying his best to come up with a topic which wasn’t usually this hard for him, so why was it now? “Are you.. okay? Were you uncomfortable?” He asks, his tone being more worried then anything.

You shook your head, finally sparing him a glance. “It felt nice.” You say, awkwardly and he just nods, letting the silence engulf you once more. You went inside, mentally slapping yourself for being so awkward around your best friend. You get changed and decide to go look around Frankfurt. You and Joost talked like nothing ever happened, leaving the morning incident behind. You went inside a museum you found interesting, paying for everything and going inside to explore. It was nice, a lot of things took your interest but Joost seemed like he was in his own world, just walking around and looking dazed. Once you decided it was time to head back, you made your way to the hotel once more. You met a few fans, most of them being thirsty for Joost anyway but finally you got to your destination. Joost looked pretty annoyed about something, sparing you a few glances and pouts. You sat down next to him on the bed, deciding to get the information out of him. “What’s wrong?” You ask, making him chuckle. “Being blunt, are we?” You shrug and raise a brow, your leg bouncing impatiently. “Joost, what’s bothering you hm? You haven’t started a random topic for 15 minutes. Which is very unlike you might I add.” He stares at you dumbfounded but shakes his head. He shrugs and looks like he is trying to find the right words to explain his sour mood. “Well, last night..” He starts and you mentally curse. You really were hoping this wasn’t mentioned but it had to be at some point.

“I liked.. what happened and I’m pretty sure you did too because you would’ve spoken up about it, I know you enough to know you speak up about things when you’re uncomfortable with something.” He starts and you try your best to not break eye contact with him, letting him speak his mind. “I didn’t only like that, I like you and have for almost a year and I thought we could.. try?” You smirk, deciding to tease him; “Try..?” You smile and he looks at you with a ‘really?’ face. “You want me to spell it out for you? I want us, to be together, at least try. We can work something out I know we can.” He says and you nod, inching closer to him. “I’d love to Joost.” You say and he stands up spinning you around making you giggle like a child. The rest of the night was just you two making fun of the situation and what convinced Joost to confess. It really was funny that one bed made you get together with the most amazing person on earth.

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[coffeenonsense]

MASSIVE SPOILERS for SOTR but this book made me absolutely feral bc it's not a story just about implicit submission and propaganda, it's also one about the deeply personal cost of resistance and how that resistance is ALWAYS going to fail if you go in alone

haymitch's story isn't a tragedy because he failed to incite a rebellion or stop the games, it's a tragedy because he absolutely could have succeeded if different choices were made by the people around him

there are numerous ways this is illustrated throughout SOTR, but one of the most telling is through haymitch's interactions with plutarch heavensbee, particularly the last few conversations they have in the book, like this exchange during the victor's tour:

Here, both plutarch and haymitch are acknowledging that haymitch was unlucky, which he was, but it also showcases that the CRITICAL thing missing from haymitch's efforts at resistance was support.

(this isn't germane to this analysis but I would like to stress this is plutarch pitching resistance to haymitch pretty much immediately after the capital burned his family alive and poisoned his girlfriend, and I hope at some point during/after the mockingjay rebellion haymitch got to hit plutarch with a shovel)

after his reaping, haymitch is pulled into a plan for resistance by people who provide him with tools, and information, but then, crucially, step back entirely and wait to see if haymitch is successful. Like katniss, they pin the face of resistance (in the eyes of the capital) to haymitch, but make sure they themselves are out of the direct line of fire.

haymitch even points this out during another exchange with plutarch:

In keeping with the main theme, Plutarch's ability to create and distribute propaganda is thrown into the spotlight—as is his deliberate choice to create propaganda for the capital, and not the resistance. Not haymitch.

plutarch could have allowed footage of the true circumstances of haymitch's reaping, his protection of lenore dove, to be broadcast. He could have let the citizens of panem see haymitch lay louella's body at snow's feet, or haymitch running with lou lou's body, trying to protect ampert, or shown any of the other small acts of rebellion haymitch did throughout the book.

But he didn't.

Instead, he gave haymitch tiny hints, spun out just enough hope to ensure haymitch would try to disable the arena. Him and the other "conspirators" like beetee came up with a plan and instead of working alongside haymitch, chose to put the plan's success or failure entirely on the shoulders of a 16 year old kid, knowing full well the price of any failure, and in certain instances, not just failing to support his effort but actively taking steps to ensure nobody is ever going to know about it.

And when it fails, when the games end, haymitch is the one who pays the cost for what the capital sees as individual resistance. beetee and mags and wiress and the other district victors suffer alongside him.

Ultimately, though, as tragic as haymitch's story is, it's also a painful but crucial lesson in resistance. There is no katniss without haymitch. There is no girl on fire without the boy with the flint striker.

haymitch isn't a spark that failed to ignite. haymitch is a spark that people noticed, but nobody fed, and then snow stamped it out. and when katniss comes around, they know enough not to make that same mistake.

[adragonprinceswhore]

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)wife

Chapter IV: Never Going Back Again 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: Aemond answers your performance of 'Dreams' by singing yet another newly composed song during rehearsal. This time, you can't contain the rage he elicits within you.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, smut, hatesex, rough sex, oral (m. receiving), spanking, pussy slapping, fingering, P in V, choking, degradation, manhandling

Word count: 4880 A/N: Thank you always to my love Justine, @theoneeyedprince for helping me by having a look at the edited version 🩵

Bringing Aemond’s old hoodie on tour feels like harbouring a shameful secret.

You’d felt weak enough when you spontaneously brought it with you when you moved out of your shared flat. And when you realised it was the only thing that could make you fall asleep any time anxiety weighed heavy on your chest.

So when you packed your suitcases to tour the Seven Kingdoms, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to leave it behind. But the shame of still needing it; still needing the memory of him, resulted in you storing it away somewhere no one would see it, least of all yourself. 

Until you sought it out. 

You wake up still curled on the side of the large bed, Aemond’s scent encompassing you.

How long will his smell linger on the fabric?

Soon, it’d disappear and you’d have no trace of him left. 

You reach Winterfell the next day. Luckily, you’re allowed a small break before the next performance, leaving you some time to explore the city and rehearse with the band. 

You spend your day sightseeing in the capital of the North; grabbing coffee with Helaena and window shopping around the bustling city centre. 

Despite the quick friendship you had established after joining the band, your relationship with Helaena has become greatly strained following your separation from Aemond. 

You know she hates the tension and the fighting. She has a habit of closing off and retreating whenever she feels uncomfortable, and having two band members in an infected conflict is not something she finds easy to navigate. You still love her like a sister, and you know Aemond holds her dear as well, so you try to spare her from it all, even if your attempts aren’t always successful. 

“We’ll be late for the rehearsal if we don’t leave soon”, you tell her as she’s eyeing a pair of sparkly firefly hair clips. She nods absentmindedly in response and picks up the clips, 

“I know, I know. Let me just get these”, she answers with a smile, heading towards the register.  

Helaena pays for the newest addition to her endless collection of insect trinkets, and you leave for the venue you’ll be performing at in two days; Winterfell Arena. 

This is going to be your biggest show yet. 

When your management booked the arena you were scared of not selling enough tickets to justify such a large space. But you’d been pleasantly surprised by the interest shown in the North. The last tickets had just sold, and it would be your largest audience to date. 

Entering the arena, you’re taken aback by its sheer size. You can’t believe you’ll be performing in a place like this, and to a sold-out crowd. You’re suddenly hit with an overwhelming sense of nauseating anxiety. Will you be able to give them a worthy show? 

Will you be good enough? 

The constant self doubt that plagues your mind had been easier to handle when Aemond was by your side. He’d always been your biggest supporter; chasing away all your inner demons with his reassurance. 

He always made you feel better. 

Now, you were left alone and with nothing but doubt keeping you company. You miss having someone to soothe you by your side. 

Miss having someone to confide in. 

To rely on. 

The stage’s larger than any you’d ever been on before. You try to shake the nerves taking over you, but it’s hard not to get overwhelmed by the size of the hall. It’s intimidatingly large. 

You and Helaena begin to set up and prepare for tonight’s rehearsal, and Jace, Erryk and Aemond drop in one by one to join. You’d expected the latter to have his usual gorgeous companion on his arm, but he surprises you by showing up alone, five minutes after the time you’d all agreed upon and without saying a word. 

It isn’t like him to show up late, and you can feel the stress radiating from him, though he stays quiet. 

You know he’s been working on yet another song for the new album, and today he mentioned in the group chat that he’d like to play it for you during rehearsal. 

He’d sent you the name; ‘Never Going Back Again’. 

Is it about his relationship with his grandfather?

When Aemond told Otto Hightower that he wanted to quit working for him at Oldtown Solicitors in order to fully focus on his music career, his grandfather had nearly cut all ties to him. 

In a particularly weak moment, he’d even given you a call, insinuating that you were a bad influence on his grandson,

“I let him entertain this silly band for the sake of Helaena and Aegon! I even let him do a minor in history at the university I financed. And yet, he meets you and suddenly wants to give that all up to record an album? Talk some sense into him, won’t you?” 

Aemond had been furious when you told him about the call from Otto, making it clear to his grandfather that he’d never go back to working with him or in property law. He’d been prepped and groomed since birth; the perfect heir to carry on the Hightower legacy. Not as flaky or unreliable as his older siblings. Always the dutiful son. 

Aemond moves across the stage to grab his bag, pulls out a water bottle and places a tablet on his tongue.  

You realise he must’ve been late due to the pain of his eye injury flaring up again. Despite his recent awful behaviour, you can’t help but feel bad for him. 

When you first started dating, you’d been scared of asking about his eye. Evidently, it was a sore subject, and you didn't want to pry. Eventually, he told you about the car accident he was in when he was 10. 

He’d been in the backseat of the family's car with his nephews, engaging in a petty fight. As the driver tried to de-escalate the situation in the back, he lost control of the vehicle, crashing it into a large tree by the side of the road. 

The only casualty from the crash was Aemond’s left eye. A piece of metal from the car had come loose during the crash and flung back through the window, creating a scar going from his forehead down to his cheek; robbing him of his vision and permanently causing him pain. 

When you started dating, you made sure to learn his routine and preferences, to make it easier and less unbearable for him when the nerve damage caused intense pain to shoot through his head. 

You still remember. 

He likes the room cool. He always lies on top of the duvet on his back, letting the chill air sooth his aching skin. Unless you’re there. Then he used to lie on his stomach next to you; one armed wrapped around your waist and his head on your chest. You’d thread your fingers through his silky hair with the softest of touches, stroking his head until the pain killers drag him into slumber. 

It had been in one of those moments that he’d first told you he loves you. 

You look over at Aemond as he makes his way towards his guitar, picking it up and experimentally playing a few chords to check the volume. 

Did he manage the pain by himself now? 

Or did he lay his head on Alys’ chest, hugging her? 

Does she run her fingers through his hair? 

Does she let them trace the outlines of the beautiful sharpness of his face? 

Over his cupid's bow, nose bridge, cheekbones?

Does he lay his head on her chest, letting the drum of her heart lull him to sleep? 

Does he allow her to come as close?

You go through the set list, discussing the order of both your older and newer songs. 

Jace, Helaena and Erryk all praise your performance of Dreams, asking you to perform it each night moving forward. 

Helaena, standing next to her brother, leans towards him and mumbles, “Your back-up vocals really make the chorus shine”, while offering him a gentle smile. 

Aemond replies with a hum and moves to stand by one of the microphones with his guitar in hand. His usual stoic yet quietly commanding self returns when he starts to play without any explanation or introduction, fingers plucking the strings with precision. He sings, 

‘She broke down and let me in’ 

During recording, you’d briefly glanced at the words in the recording studio, huffing a laugh at his audacity. They definitely sting more on stage. Your face turns hot and you can’t decipher if it’s from humiliation or anger. Maybe both. 

He really is a dick. 

‘Made me see where I’ve been’

‘Been down one time’

‘Been down two times’ 

‘Never going back again’ 

Any sympathy you’d felt for him; any longing you’d felt for him, vanishes as he sings. Another song about you, this time in the form of the final nail in the coffin that is your marriage. 

And he had the nerve to ask you not to perform Dreams anymore? 

‘You don’t know what it means to win’

‘Come ‘round and see me again’ 

Back at the hotel room, rage makes your entire body feel hot and restless. 

How fucking dare he? 

Never going back again? 

First, he’d sung about how you broke his heart and now, he paints you like you’re the plague; like a sickness to avoid. 

All you want to do is call Alysanne and spew out all the pent up emotions storming inside of you. 

You place your phone on the nightstand and roughly shove the charger inside, fingers tapping furiously to call Alysanne.

She doesn’t answer and you call her again. Still no answer. 

You’re so restless you can’t sit down, irritation making your skin feel hot and hands tingly. 

What if you asked him to not play the song? That’s what he’d asked of you. 

Unable to stay still, you grab your key card and shove your feet into a pair of white hotel slippers, heading down to where you know Aemond’s hotel room is. 

You reach the door and knock on it firmly while your feet shuffle from side to side impatiently. 

You're not sure what you’ll tell him, the rage inside guiding you instead of your senses. 

Aemond opens the door, face unreadable and eyebrows raised in question at your sudden visit. He’s clad in nothing but a pair of green joggers and your gaze briefly flickers down to take in his shirtless stature. 

“Really? Never going back?”, you question and move in closer. The heavy hotel door shut behind you, and suddenly it’s only the two of you, in his room. 

He neither answers nor moves, and you’re standing so close that your clothed chest bumps into his naked one. You crane your neck to look into his eyes. His stern demeanour doesn’t quite reach them, gaze softer than you’d imagined. 

Anger still guides you, and a pathetically spiteful idea prompts you to slowly kneel before him, still standing impossibly close and eyes never straying away from his.

“Not even if I do this?”

Your face is level with his crotch as you look up at him. He’s always loved this sight; you at his mercy. But not now. Now he’s at yours. 

You slowly lean forward and press your lips against the exposed skin of his torso, fleetingly kissing him right by his happy trail, just above the hem of his trousers. 

You’ve missed the soft smoothness of his flesh; a tender veil over the hard muscles hiding underneath. So contradictingly beautiful. 

Aemond stays unmoving, eyes staring at you with a scorching intensity. You know he won’t stop you. If he didn’t want this, he’d have let you know by now. 

So you press another kiss right under his navel, and feel sickly delighted by the barely-there shiver vibrating from him. 

Slowly, and with light kisses to his stomach, you reach for the hem of his joggers, letting your hands softly pull down the fabric and reveal his manhood. He’s already half hard, and you have to bite back a smile. 

Never going back again? Yeah right. 

Your eyes never leave his as your delicate kisses trail downward, towards his cock, yet never making direct contact with it. 

His face still is as impassive as always, but he’s now grown so hard his tip is leaking precum, fuelling your actions. 

You haven’t been this close to him in months and it almost feels intoxicating; his smell encircling you. 

You want to see him lose control; you need to see him lose control. Need to hear him beg for you. 

Plead for you. 

Come for you. 

You squeeze your things together at the thought, arousal making an ache drum between your legs. It’s an addictive thought; imagining him pleading for you. Begging for you. Needing you. 

You want him to want you. 

He still hasn’t moved, or said anything. You take his silence as an invitation to continue. 

Want him to want you. 

Still locking eyes, you slowly graze your lips over his skin until your mouth is by the base of his cock. You know he won’t give you the satisfaction of letting you in on what he’s feeling, but that’s alright. 

You’ll force it out of him. 

Your hand travels up his leg and moves to grip his cock, now so hard it’s aching to be touched. You work in long, firm strokes, just the way he likes. 

The staring contest continues. You know his stoic appearance is meant to frighten you, but you know him too well. You can see the cracks appearing already. 

Eager to push him further, you slowly open your mouth and let your tongue out, gently swiping it over his leaking tip to collect the glistening beads of precum. You feel the proof of his arousal on your tongue, and you see his gaze flicker down to observe it in your mouth as you unhurriedly close your mouth and swallow. 

He stays silent, but you see his jaw twitch. 

He likes it. 

Growing bolder, you move your lips back to the tip of his cock, kissing it in a far too innocent manner before wrapping your lips around him and sucking firmly.

In the briefest of moments, his eyebrows knit together and he closes his eyes.

The satisfaction you feel at his clear arousal goes straight to the thrumming between your legs, and you briefly squeeze your thighs together. You move your mouth lower, placing feather-light kisses down his length before gently swiping your tongue over his balls. 

You can hear the restraint in each laboured breath he huffs through his nose. 

Your soft lips envelop one of his balls, and your hands continue to stroke his length. You know he loves this; loves when you get down on your knees and worship him. 

You let your tongue massage every inch as it rests in your mouth, and when you let out a moan, pure theatrics to make him succumb to you, Aemond’s jaw goes slack and his lips part uncontrollably. 

Just a little further and you’ll break him. 

You’ll win. 

Perhaps the look in your eyes let him in on your scheme. 

Perhaps he’s too close to continue. 

But when he grabs you by the hair and yanks you off of him, it takes you by surprise. 

“About to cum, baby?”, you mockingly ask.  

He clicks his tongue and grabs your forearms to pull you up so you're standing in front of him again. 

Still not saying a word, he tries so hard to appear stoic, but you can see the storm brewing within him. A sudden push to your shoulders causes you to stumble backward and land on Aemond's soft hotel bed. 

“Let’s see how fucking wet you get from sucking off the man you hate”

His voice is both calm and taunting at once. His hands come up to the sides of your leggings, pulling them down with force, taking your underwear with them.

You know you’re wet, but you really don’t want him to know that. 

You don’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

You try to press your legs together, but one of his large hands finds its place on your mound and cups it perfectly as one of his fingers slides down between your folds to meet the silky wetness there. The fact that his hand seems to fit against you perfectly, like two puzzle pieces, amplifies your desire. And rage. 

“Having my balls in your mouth made you that wet, huh? Still so dirty, baby”, he teases, emphasis on the pet name to match your previous mock. 

You let out a yelp as his hand briefly leaves you to land a quick smack on your exposed clit. His cocksure expression flashes by before he grabs your hips again to place you on your stomach, bare ass receiving a smack as well. 

He works quickly, sitting down next to you on the bed and pulling you towards him. He places your middle on his lap, and lets his hand come down to land another smack on your asscheek. 

His hand stays on your soft skin, lingering a bit longer than you’d anticipated, before travelling down between your thighs to meet your neglected centre. 

“You like that too, don’t you?”, he asks as he catches your clit between his fingers and press harshly. 

It stings. 

It feels good. 

You press your lips together to prevent any sounds from escaping, racking your brain for a way to gain back control. 

Aemond’s fingers begin to draw firm circles and your mind starts to feel foggy from want. Without thinking, your hips begin to move in tandem with his fingers. He chuckles. 

“I know you inside out”, he triumphs, but as you move your hips, you can feel how achingly hard he is beneath you. 

You know him too. 

You pull away from his lap, sitting back on your haunches on the bed, and remove your cardigan, then your tank top, and finally your bra. 

You manage to startle Aemond by your sudden move, and you seize your chance at dominance by placing both hands on his shoulders and pushing him down, so he lies on his back on the plush, white sheets of the hotel bed. 

You straddle him, and move one hand down to pull down his sweatpants once again. Revealing his cock, you encircle him softly before placing his length between your folds, dragging your wetness all over him. You bite back a moan as his cock pushes on your clit again and again, hips move back and forward. 

Aemond seems lost for words as well, undoubtedly enjoying you moving against him. 

His seeing eye flickers wildly to take in your naked body, damaged eye not able to keep up with the rapid movements. His cheeks and the tips of his ears are pink. You momentarily feel mesmerised by his beauty. 

The realisation that you’ve missed seeing him like this, missed being with him like this, pierces your heart painfully and your hips still. 

You don’t want to think about the sadness inside. You want to break him. Like he broke you. 

Up until now, it’s been a constant fight for dominance; a never-ending back and forth. But you got him now.

“Beg me to fuck you”, you command, voice slightly out of breath. Aemond’s eyes are fixed on your heaving, naked chest.  

“What?”, he questions, like he doesn’t understand what you’re asking.

“Beg”, you repeat, voice more demanding as your breathing calms, 

“Beg me to fuck you, Aemond”

Though confusion had briefly flashed over his face, it’s now set in fury. 

His eyes narrow.

Without answering you, he places one hand on your shoulder and another on your waist, manhandling your body down on his cock in one swift motion. The sudden intrusion makes you gasp, much to Aemond’s satisfaction. He grins victoriously. 

Fuck, it’s been so long. 

He begins bucking up into you in an instance. The firm hold he has on your body feels bruising, and his fingers dig into your flesh meanly so that you won’t move. 

He angles his hips, and each stroke touches your sweet spot. You bite down on your lip to hinder the moans that are fighting to escape. He’s essentially fucking you on his cock, and it feels so good you can’t think clearly anymore. 

“Come on, I know you can’t keep quiet”

He pushes your body down harder, bucking his hips up faster. You can’t help but move with him, it feels so fucking good. 

You’re still not going to come. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction. He’s gonna come. 

You clench down on his length each time he slides in and you see the tension in his jaw; the vein bulging out at the side of his neck. 

Maybe if you push him just a little bit further? 

“Oh, Aemond”, you moan as you throw your head back, tightening your muscles again, gripping him like a vice. 

He’s always loved getting praised. 

The hand he’d placed on your shoulder moves to your throat, engulfing the entirety of it. His fingers press down on the sides, 

“Shut up” 

His grip tightens. The movement of your hips begin to falter as the restricted blood flow to your head amplifies your pleasure. You bite your lip harder not to moan. 

He knows exactly how to get you. 

He continues to fuck up into your dripping cunt, ignoring your change in pace. Each stroke of his cock within your walls feels like pure ecstasy; like sparks of sheer pleasure shooting through your body. 

His expression is infuriatingly smug and you realise you must look completely blissed out as he uses your body. 

You feel the familiar tightening in your lower stomach, the sign that your peak is approaching rapidly. 

No no no, he can’t win! 

You pull away from the grip he has on you, abruptly getting off him, internally mourning the pleasure you rob yourself of. 

He needs to come. He needs to break first. 

You sit next to where he’s lying on his back, hand moving down so that you can work his length again. 

Aemond catches on to your scheme quickly and uses his strength to push you away, manhandling you so your face’s down in the mattress and ass exposed. 

He pulls on one cheek, admiring your wet and wanting centre. When he shoves back inside with an exaggerated tut, you can’t take it anymore; the pleasure’s just too much.

His touch feels too good, no matter how harsh it is. 

You try to push your face as far as possible into the bed, hoping Aemond can’t hear the moans you can’t contain any longer. 

The loud smacks of his hips against your backside and the lewd, wet sounds coming from your cunt fill the room. 

It’s so aggressively erotic. 

One of his hands finds your clit and as he starts massaging it with vigour, his other hand moves towards your head. 

He grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls your head back so you are facing him. The grip hurts; like a thousand little needles assaulting your scalp. 

“You’re gonna come, I know it. Don’t you fucking dare not look me in the eye when you do”

You’re stuck in his painful grip, yet your orgasm’s racing towards you, making you clench down on his length and moan louder and louder, no longer able to hide the effect he has on you. 

The hand in your hair moves down to grab your breast roughly, nipple pinched between his fingers. You find it hard to keep your body up as pleasure makes it feel like you're floating, but Aemond’s arms around you makes it impossible for you to move. His face moves to press against yours; cheek to cheek, 

“When you sing your silly little songs about what a player I am, remember that no one else can make you feel as good as I do”

And you’re gone. The orgasm hits you so hard you almost black out. It makes your entire body jerk uncontrollably, and if Aemond hadn’t been holding you, you’d be on the floor. 

He keeps fucking your through your orgasm, breathing heavily and grunting at the intense way your walls contract around him. 

As the movements of his hips turn sloppy and frantic, you feel his face move to press between your shoulder blades, arms still holding you tightly, like he’s hugging you from behind. 

Or trying to crush you. 

You can’t decide which. 

You stay like that for a few moments. The room is quiet, save for your shared heavy breathing. You’re suddenly aware of the close proximity between the two of you and feel too exposed, regret storming inside you like in icy waves.  

Shit, what have you done?

Aemond loosens his grip around you and lowers you down on the bed much gentler than how he’d touched you before. 

You stay on your stomach, burying your face in the bed as you feel Aemond shuffle behind you, softly tracing a hand down your back before getting up and making his way towards the adjacent bathroom. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

Hearing him turn on the faucet, you quickly get up from the bed. 

You have to get out before he comes back. 

You frantically look for your clothes, scattered all over the hotel room floor. Trying to be as quick as you can be feels impossible when your legs still feel far wobbly, and your mind way too fuzzy, to cooperate.  

You hear Aemond turn off the faucet as you pull on your leggings and underwear. You can’t find your bra, and you don’t even bother looking for it before pulling on your tank top and cardigan hurriedly. 

You just need to get away. 

Away from Aemond. 

You step into your slippers and dart out the front door as you hear him emerge from the bathroom. 

Not patient enough to wait for the elevator, you head towards the emergency exit and climb the two stories up to your room. 

As soon as you're inside, you toss the hotel card key on the desk by the window and throw yourself on the bed, body jolting from the force. 

You want to cry. 

You want to scream. 

You want to go to sleep and realise this was all just a fucked up dream. 

You reach for your phone on the nightstand, now fully charged and with a few messages from Alysanne, asking you how you are and if you’d gone to the cafe she’d recommended by Winterfell Central Station. 

You press her name and the small telephone icon, hoping she’ll pick up. 

“Hi honey, you okay?”, she answers, voice evidently concerned from your sudden call. 

You usually stick to texting, or pre-scheduled face-time dates. 

“I fucked up”, you say, barely above a whisper. You hope that she’ll know what happened without you actually having to say the words. You don’t want to speak it into existence. 

“Did you kill him?”, she jokes and you let out a hollow laugh. 

“Worse”, you say, and Alysanne sighs on the other end.

“Was it good?”, she asks after a long pause, making you let out another snort. 

“What do I do now, Aly? I was just going to push him a little and now-”

“That’s your problem. You always want to get a reaction out of him. What happened to just focusing on yourself?”

Her words feel patronising, like you’re being scolded by your parents. Yet you know she is right. You stay silent and mentally search for a reply; any excuse for your behaviour. 

“Yeah”, you sigh in resignation. 

You know you fucked up; that you’ve acted childish and petty. Still, the satisfied afterglow of experiencing the best orgasm you’ve had in months leaves you feeling a bit less anxious. 

Alysanne tries to distract you by asking about Winterfell, the tour, and what you’re planning on wearing for the big show tomorrow. 

It feels good to talk to a friend without holding anything back. Even if you appreciate Helaena’s company immensely, you know she’s being pulled between you and Aemond, and you’d rather not add to her suffering. 

As Aly tells you about the guy she went on a date with last night, your phone buzzes. 

You briefly glance at your screen, ready to swipe the notification away, when you notice it’s an email from your solicitors office. 

You say a quick goodbye to Aly, open the email and quickly scan through the overly formal text. Your eyes flicker over the screen, taking in what’s written. 

…finalised… 

…shared assets… 

There’s a PDF at the bottom of the email. You click on it, seeing the document you’d left for Aemond in your flat over three months ago. The empty space you’d left next to your hurried signature is now filled in, reading; 

Aemond Targaryen. 

A/N: Thank you for reading 🫶 If you wonder about if he signed the papers right after she left his hotel room; it’s a pdf with his signature, I imagine he actually signed it before leaving for the tour and it just reached her solicitors now.

[100hyunswife]

housekeeper in hannam | 100hyunswife

byun baekhun x f. reader

genre: smut; slow burn; age gap relationship - unspecified age difference (reader older than baekhyun); a little angst but there's a happy ending

written in 3rd person to be able to get glimpses into baek's thoughts (but it's a reader insert, so the mc is still referred to as "you")

wc: 23k ...woah

warnings: soft dom!baekhyun; sexual tension is strong; male masturbation; hickeys; piv sex; light bondage (blindfolding); baekhyun, um, he likes your stockings/hosiery; lowkey worships your body; a punch is thrown to a minor character in a small fight scene; mention of injury from glass - baek is sweet and tends to you though;

synopsis: baekhyun takes an interest in his housekeeper and reminds her that age is just a number. can you relinquish your professionalism for pleasure?

a/n: thanks for the kind comments on the snippet guys 🤗 i got soo busy with moving to my new apartment but here's the final product! it was inspired by this request. as i stated before, this was so much fun to write and clearly, i had a hard time ending it! lmk your thoughts. - veronica <333

spoilers | snippet | story

tag: @ghost-strawb-eri

Byun Baekhyun is at the top of his game. After becoming a quadruple million-seller and selling out multiple concerts across the globe on his world tour, it’s no secret just how successful he is. And of course, with success comes the opportunity for expansion and the enjoyment of his riches. His already luxurious penthouse was to be renovated to become exactly the way he wants it—down to the artwork on the wall, hardware on the cabinets, and handles on the doors. It was all with the goal of creating a space that was exactly what he’d like to grow old in. Surely, he had the riches to buy himself the perfect home. 

Baekhyun found it hard to shake the emptiness that came upon him when he went home to his brand-new residence's cold, undecorated, hardly-lived-in interior. Baekhyun bought this big house with lots of ideas and dreams behind the purchase, but once he moved in, he realized just how big it was and even more, how small he felt. He thought that, to attempt to enjoy it and not feel so miserable, he should make it a home. He could at least make it look cozier. Baekhyun liked modernity in his design language, but some things could still be tweaked about the furnishing and finishes to give it a personal touch and not be so cookie cutter. 

With extensive renovations, it takes time. While he waited for his perfectly crafted palace of a home to be erected, he found himself making a temporary one at the best hotel in his neighborhood of Hannam. He looked forward to the completion of his house, but who says he couldn’t enjoy himself in the meantime? He booked a long-term stay in the building’s penthouse suite on the top floor.  

In the morning, he had moved all of his necessities into the space and felt out the new setting. Undeniably, he felt a bit bored by the end of organizing his video games and consoles he brought for entertainment by the TV. He wasn’t proud of it, but when Baekhyun was bored, Baekhyun ate. So, after he took a shower, shook a towel through his wet hair, and threw on the plush robe provided by the hotel, he honored his artificial appetite by ordering room service. He reviewed the menu in leisure, resting his feet atop the ottoman in front of the velvet couch he was seated on. For his early lunch, he decided on a roll of Bulgogi Gimbap and fresh fruit on the side. Something light to add to the granola bar he had for breakfast is good enough to pass the time and hold him over until dinner. Over the corded phone resting on the side table, he put in his request to the kitchen. 

   +++ 

You rushed through the lobby’s revolving doors, making a dash for the section of the building past the front desk to begin your shift… to a late start. Not only did you forget to set your alarm last night, you also missed the employee carpool van that picks up staff in the area. This forced you to catch the slow bus with an even slower driver that goes no more than 25 miles per hour. This inevitably made you late for your duties as a long-time housekeeper at Seoul’s number one hotel. This also meant that you’d probably get an earful from your boss once she saw the timestamp of your arrival.  

“Damn that punch-in system crap. The higher-ups never have to clock in,” you think to yourself as you release your finger from the biometric sensor after it read your print and submitted your attendance into the system.  

With no more time to waste, you made your way downstairs to the basement level of the building where all of the facility’s labor force resides to make sure the wheels of the hotel continue to churn. You all are the beating heart of this giant building; though it can be hard fulfilling orders day in and day out, you took pride in the work that you do. You reached the housekeeping sector and headed to your locker to hurriedly change into your uniform. The hotel took pride in having upscale cutting-edge decor while sticking to old values and traditions when it came to service. These traditions of old-fashioned service lived on even in your daily wear. The black housekeeping uniforms were dated, exhibiting A-line skirts, pocketed half aprons, and the hidden retro undergarments of thigh high stockings and a garter belt. 

As you slipped out of your street clothes and put on your professional armor for the day, you overheard your other coworkers chatting softly, and… giggling. They never giggle. Not that your jobs were miserable to you all, but giggling on a Tuesday morning when there were still so many tasks to complete—beds to be made, coffee to be served, laundry to be washed—made it an unlikely environment. You turned a listening ear, curiosity getting the best of you. 

As you listened, you heard them whispering about a handsome man in the penthouse unit, Mr. Byun it sounds like. They continued to whisper about how attractive he was when they saw him move in a few of his things for a supposed long-term stay. You began to wonder just what this man looked like for the staff to be acting like this—he must be unlike the regulars that come in. Your mind didn’t get to produce many more thoughts on the subject since, out of nowhere, your boss appeared in front of you behind your locker door after you just shut it closed. 

“Y/n, you’re almost two hours late.” She stated with a raised eyebrow that is filled in a bit too thickly with a brow pencil that is two shades too dark.  

You bowed your head, “I’m sorry Ms. Park, I really didn’t mean to be late. I forgot to set my alarm last night because of how tired I was. I got home very late past my shift last night due to the extra trash and spills I had to clean up from the messy guests on my floor,” you trailed off, knowing it’s hardly enough of an excuse. Though Ms. Park was stern, you knew she was human and understanding at the end of the day. Plus, you’d been a housekeeper there at the hotel for over a decade; you first started in your mid-20s, wanting to make a simple living for yourself and move out of your parent’s house. At this point, you knew this place from the inside out and Ms. Park knew just how valuable you were. 

Her raised eyebrow remained planted on her face. “Don’t make it a habit.”  

You looked up at her and gave a sorry smile and a nod. You could only hope that it wouldn’t happen again, but you couldn’t make any promises. Her attention quickly shifted to something else, making a beeline towards a marked-up map of the building’s regions with various employee names scattered throughout.  

It’s the first of the month. Your eyebrows are creased as you brought a hand to your forehead in exhaustion before the day had even truly begun. Not only was your rent payment due today, but you would also be getting a new assignment for work regions. Each month, the housekeepers are delegated new regions to focus on and be responsible for. It rotates every first of the month.  

Ms. Park handed you the sheet for you to review. “Check where you are and get started.” Without another word, she exited the locker area and went to her office.  

You let out a deep sigh and cast your eyes to the paper map to see which region of the hotel is your responsibility this month.  

You saw your name written next to: 

TOP FLOOR: PENTHOUSE. 

You weren’t upset about this month’s assignment, actually. The top floor of the hotel housed the buildings two penthouse units. Only one was operational at the moment; the other is closed for plumbing reasons and won’t be reopening for another two months. This meant your load would be relatively light for the coming weeks—a very welcome change of pace considering the chaos that was your past month catering to the second-floor guests. Those were the cheaper rooms with rowdier guests that were not the best at cleaning up after themselves. You sighed once more, but this time in relief. A soft smile even made a quick appearance. 

Your closest friend Gloria stepped away from the circle of giggling staff members and peered over your shoulder to see your lucky pull for the month.  

“Penthouse section, huh?” She asked with an audible smirk. 

You turned around to see that smirk and attempted to wipe it away by rolling your eyes with a nonchalant attitude.  

“It’s whatever,” you said as you made your way to the carts to begin stocking it with bed sheets and mints. “It’ll be nice to have a bit of a break from having the messiest rooms in the entire hotel for 30 days straight.” 

Gloria followed you and started stocking a cart of her own. With a teasing tone she continued, “I think you’ll be enjoying this section for more than just the lighter workload.” 

“Oh please, am I missing something?” 

“I hope you’ll get a peak of who’s staying there like I did a bit earlier down in the lobby,” she finished with a wink. 

“Gosh, Gloria. Behave!” You ended the conversation as you rolled your cart away towards the elevator to get taken 20 stories high in the sky. 

Once you arrived on the top floor, you saw a member of the kitchen staff just leave the room with an empty tray, having dropped off food to the guest you were just about to visit as well. You both smiled at each other as he passed you. You approached the door of the single operational penthouse and give a slight knock—fair game since the “do not disturb” sign was not on the door handle.  

To your surprise, you were met with someone attractive, indeed. A fresh-faced man with the cutest rosy, pink lips and shaggy damp hair answered the door; you could tell he had recently taken a shower. He stood in front of you in the plush hotel-branded robe. It was open enough to show a decent amount of chest; the slight definition of his pectoral muscles was on display. 

You looked him up and down, too taken by the sight to make sure it was discreet. The usual clientele were old, gray-haired businessmen. What a feast you laid your eyes upon. You faltered for a moment, but you caught yourself. Of course, you couldn’t let your attraction show. You dipped your head, peering to the floor for a moment to gather yourself, and cleared your throat. You prayed that when you did look back up, your interest wouldn’t be so clearly painted on your face with a hue on your cheeks. 

“Hi, Mr. Byun, um…” You struggled to announce yourself. “I’m a housekeeper, I’m here to give you some fresh bedding and bath towels.” You got it out eventually. “I’m sorry I’m late getting to your room, I should have been here before you even arrived this morning, please forgive me.” You gave him a formal bow to end your apology. You bowed so deeply in part to keep yourself from looking at him for too long and turning any redder. 

“No worries at all, I still had a good supply of everything!” He reassured you.  

You came up with a gentle smile but kept from meeting his eyes.  

“I’ll just give you a fresh restock to make up for it, I’ll be done quickly!” You headed to the bedroom area of the penthouse with your cart and left him alone in the living room. Looking over to his bed, you see that it is still tidy—he only arrived this morning, so there was no need to change his bedding since it hasn’t been used yet. You still went to restock the bathroom though, as, clearly, you could tell that he did take a shower and likely used a few of the towels. When you walked into the bathroom, you were met with the sight of a slightly fogged mirror, the vision of yourself blurred by condensation that has still yet to evaporate since his shower. Mr. Byun’s shower. His shower this morning that must have been steamy hot. You shook your head to discard the inappropriate thoughts that began to cloud it. You told yourself to get to work and began to pick up the used towels that were resting on the floor. You tossed them into the hamper on your cart and gave a new set, placing the fresh ones neatly on the shelves around the bath. There were a few splashes of water on the counter and floor that you decided to clean up as well, and since you were being so thorough, you then took on the task of cleaning the aforementioned foggy mirror to make it crystal clear once again. This mirror, however, is that of a behemoth. It’s a large mirror that compliments the penthouse’s high ceilings. That meant, to reach the top of it, you’d have to climb onto the counter when cleaning its upper corners.  

You sprayed the bottle of cleaner solution onto the surface, starting from the bottom, rubbing your rag in circles, and making your way to the upper region. Once you had progressed to the portion of the mirror you could no longer reach while standing on the floor, you lifted yourself up onto the countertop to continue your mission. No task was ever too big for you; you would always figure out a way to get around any obstacles and leave every room spotless. This was no different. You felt your knees grind against the hard, unforgiving slab of marble as your arm continued to reach and wipe at the reflective glass in front of you. You knew they’d be red after this, but what’s new? As you grow in age, you’ve noticed that your skin bruises a bit easier than before. This is nothing compared to the burns from spilled hot water or freshly dried laundry that were still a bit too steamy for handling. This you could take. This you wanted to take. You were happy to be able to put all of your energy and expertise into one guest’s stay. You took it upon yourself to make sure his stay was perfect.  

You made one last swirl of your arm, dragging the rag along with it, before sitting back onto your heels to observe your hard work. 

“Well goodness, you don’t have to get on your knees for me.” An unexpected voice broke the silence. 

Without thinking, you turn your head around swiftly. Too swiftly. The base of the counter was wide enough to support you and your measured movements as you cleaned, but definitely not wide enough to support the large range of motion you just took by turning around out of shock from Mr. Byun’s presence. You whipped around and your bottom slipped. Clumsily, you were about to be one with the floor, but with fast legs and even faster arms, Mr. Byun caught you before you fell flat on your ass. 

You were speechless as you look up at him; you’ve never been held like this, in such strong arms before.  

“I didn’t mean to make you fall, I apologize.” He spoke softly as he held you in his tight grip. 

That chest that you stared at earlier, when you stood outside his door, was now against your cheek. That cheek of yours that is pressed against that chest felt each vibration as he spoke, along with every breath he took. You looked up at him next, only to get lost in those deep pools of chocolate that he has for eyes. Bad idea. 

Speak! Speak! You commanded yourself in your jumbled mind.  

“It’s okay, Mr. Byun. I just lost my balance that’s all.” 

A beat has past and you still just gazed at each other’s faces. 

This man, though mature, was clearly younger than you. If it wasn’t communicated by his youthful face, it was evident by the array of video games that were strewn across the living room console. Of course, you don’t need to be young to enjoy video games, but it was just another piece of evidence to keep your dirty thoughts at bay. You needed reasons. Reasons to not entertain any fantasies in your mind that involved this new, very handsome guest. You were at work and work did not include standing there drooling over someone who’d never see you as anything more than, well, an old maid. 

You cleared your throat. You wanted to stunt the nonsense you felt. You needed to part from him and screw your head on a bit tighter than whatever configuration it is you have right now. He put you down, back onto your feet, but a hand remained on your back. His eyes hadn’t budged from yours either.  

“Are you okay?” He asked with genuine concern. 

You gave him a nod. He seemed relieved until when scanning you, his eyes caught the condition of your knees after you kneeled on the hard marble to clean his tall mirror. His face dropped and so did his body. He sank to one knee while you stood, frozen still.  

“Your knees…” He breathed out in concern at how scuffed they were. It’s true that even your hosiery wasn’t doing a great job at concealing the rouge of your skin in that area. What happened next? Maybe you expected him to say something else while he was down there. Maybe a humble word or two about how you didn’t need to do what you did—how he didn’t care, and the condensation would have evaporated anyway. You expected that. As soon as you interacted with him you could tell he was a sweet guest, a considerate one. Not a guest that was entitled. You could sniff those out pretty easily. So, with this nice guest in front of you, you were prepared for the typical nice guest phrases and other words of kindness to be uttered.  

And so it came. 

“You didn’t have to get up there and clean the mirror at all, really.” 

“I know, sir.” You met his gaze. “I just wanted to be thorough and make up for being late—” 

Now what you didn’t expect, was for him to touch you. What you didn’t expect, was the warmth of his fingertips to graze your thigh as he placed his open palm against the side of your knee. You saw him look intently at the area of concern. 

You sucked in a breath and gripped the bathroom counter behind you. Your face flushed uncontrollably. Had he placed his hand any higher, he would have been able to feel the laced edging of your glossy thigh highs. You opened your mouth to communicate some type of objection to his actions. But in the end, nothing left your lips. You just stared at him with your mouth slightly agape. 

Staring at the inflamed skin underneath your stockings, he asked, “Are you alright? I really don’t want this to bruise. I’d hate to tarnish your beauty.” 

Not trusting your voice to be stable upon using it, you answered him with a non-verbal, over-exaggerated nod. 

“Tell me.” He refused to look at you until he got a response of his liking. 

You shut your eyes and unscramble your rampant thoughts. “I’m fine, it will go away soon,” you managed to get out.  

Baekhyun hoped you were sincere—he knew he was. It truly would have troubled him if he caused you pain from doing something unnecessary for him. Baekhyun thought, if your knees were going to be engaged while doing something to service him, it may as well be something fun… that incorporates pleasure. And he’d be surely glad to reciprocate. He squeezed his eyes shut. 

Baekhyun, shocked at his own depravity, quickly caught the loud, lewd thoughts in a mental cage and tossed away the key. Guilty, he blinked his eyes a few times in an effort to clear his mind and his dirty conscience for thinking those things in front of the innocent, pretty housekeeper who probably had better things to do than be subjected to his desperation.  

You took a step backward and he released his hand from your leg. Baekhyun dipped his head, realizing just how odd his touch could have come off. He only got down and looked closer at you out of care—he often had bruises on his own knees from various choreographies that included gliding across the floor. He wanted to see if you needed any ointment as he sometimes did. He was glad to see though, that despite them being covered by your silky-smooth stockings, the damage to your knees was visibly just to the surface and no real abrasions. He came up to meet your eyes again. 

“Okay, I’m happy you’re alright.” He scratched the back of his head and glanced over to the living room. “Looks like my jokes are dangerous, so, I’ll let you be,” he finished with a sorrowful smile. 

You stayed silent and pretended to look around the bathroom to find more things to do to keep your mind busy. Too bad you had already done everything there was to do. 

“I’m sorry, really,” he said just before turning around. He gave a quick look around and commented on the bathroom’s condition. “By the way, everything is perfect so I hope you don’t feel the need to stay too much longer—you did such a good job already.” He exited the room to retreat to the comfort of his couch and the safety of solitude. He, too, needed to be alone. 

You could breathe again. You decided to take his word and make your leave soon.  

The cleaning rag for the mirror that flew in the air from your fall landed on top of the toilet seat cover. You retrieved it quickly and stored it back onto your cart. Without making eye contact with the guest, you rolled your cart out of the bathroom and towards the main door just by the living room. You thought you’d be able to escape without further trial, but alas, one more thing left his mouth before you made your great escape. 

“Wait, what’s your name?” He asked as he got up and made his way towards you. 

No, no, no. 

You cursed the universe for this additional interaction. Just when you thought you’d be out of here without any more butterflies taking up space in your empty, hungry stomach, there you were. There you were with him once again towering over you, waiting patiently for your answer. 

You refrained from meeting his eyes; as he held the door open for you while you slid out with your cart, you kept your eyes at his feet and offered a slight bow as you gave up the private detail. After you told him your name, you took a hold of the cart once more and promptly wheeled it down the hallway without looking back, without seeing his face, without giving him any room to pry for more.  

Baekhyun watched you leave.  

“Pretty.” He said to himself. Or so he thought, since you were already webbing distance between you both. 

Too bad you heard it. Too bad it wasn’t concealed by the sound of the cartwheels rolling across the hallway carpet. Too bad you didn’t hate it enough to beg Ms. Park for a new assignment. 

Too bad you found yourself wanting more. 

His words replayed over and over again. 

I’d hate to tarnish your beauty. 

Did you hear that right? 

And your name… he said it was… 

Pretty. 

You sat down at the folding table in the laundry station. It had been a good few hours since you left his room, but your mind didn’t know any better. You ruminated over the conversation; his words were fresh as if just spoken. You’re in a daze as you sit and fold the freshly dried bedding, tablecloths, and bath towels that come out in large masses. You’ve had so much more time to yourself than usual today since you only have one room to tend to—you can’t believe that this will be your entire month. You relished the extra time and even decided to do some extra organization of amenities baskets. New cucumber and melon flavored bath salts arrived this week and you wanted the simple pleasure of smelling them first out of everyone at the hotel.  

You made your way over to that area, only to be stopped by Carl from the kitchen. And with him, he presented an ornately decorated bottle of alcohol. 

“Mr. Byun in the penthouse would like you to bring him up this bottle of champagne.” Carl handed you a bottle of Ace of Spades.  

“Me?” You asked, confused. Any type of food and beverage handling is exclusively designated to kitchen staff. There were more than enough workers today, so it’s odd that Carl came to you.�� 

“He requested you to bring it, specifically by name.”  

You tried not to show signs of shock or amusement on your face in front of your coworker. Is that why he asked what your name was? So he could order you around as his personal servant? You inwardly scoffed. But again, as you thought about his demeanor and attentiveness, he didn’t seem like the stuck-up crowd. He’s not that type of guy. You accepted the new mission without further comment—largely because you truly didn’t have much left to do for the day. 

You took it into your hands and marveled at the art of the bottle itself. This is one of the world’s most expensive champagnes. You let out a cough, shaken by what you were holding. Sure, you worked in an upscale hotel, and it is to be expected that you come into contact with some of the world’s finest amenities and refreshments. However, this is the first time you’ve delivered things to guests other than fresh towels, bedding, or other medial domestic items. This is the first time you’ve touched something so expensive. On the salary of a housekeeper, you could only dream of making the amount of money this bottle is worth in a year. 

You thanked the kitchen worker and began your trek to the man who awaits his delivery. 

Little did you know, he was more excited about the woman who was coming with it. 

The closer you got to his suite, the faster your heart would beat. You wondered how he would come to answer the door this time. Eventually, you were in front of his suite and lifted a fist to knock against the hard wood that separates your two worlds. It’s amazing how often you’re around luxury, how often you interact with it and observe it, yet, it has never been yours to experience, never yours to touch, never yours to… taste. You finished your reflection looking down at the $100,000 bottle of champagne that was soon to be taken from you. 

With two taps of your knuckles and a held in breath, you made your presence known. He didn’t take very long to open the door and eliminate the divide between you two, and he did it with a smile. Gone was the hotel robe that once graced his body earlier in the day. He instead wore a heather beige Miu Miu cardigan and light wash jeans. Expensive. Attractive. Both qualities were anticipated; but it didn't make it any less impactful. At least you could tame your gaze a bit better than before. 

“Hello, y/n.” 

You were absolutely not prepared to hear your name come from his mouth. It sounded soaked with honey. 

“Hello Mr. Byun.” 

That formality did something to Baekhyun. At least when it exited your lips. Baekhyun is in trouble if he gets worked up every time you greet him. 

“Please, call me Baekhyun.” His million-dollar smile has yet to leave his face; you were beginning to see just how charming this man was. Evidence to how he had claimed the hearts of so many from all over. You were never one to be swayed by celebrity status or experience symptoms of feeling starstruck. You came in contact with powerful, successful people day in and day out. It was just a way of life for you. When you heard that Mr. Byun, no, Baekhyun, was staying at the hotel, you didn't think twice about it. Sure, he was the first K-pop idol in your care, but back in that locker room before you started your shift, he sounded like just another number in the population of other well-to-do guests. You should have braced yourself. Moreover, the faux pas from earlier should have been enough to desensitize you. 

“Well, Baekhyun,” you quickly reflected on how personal this moment felt, you’ve never called guests by anything other than their surname. “Here is your champagne.” You extended your arms out with the bottle resting sideways in the bed of your two palms. 

“Thank you.” He took it from you and just like when you left the first time, you were about to make a beeline for the elevator, without another word. Faster than your feet though, were his next words. 

“Can you stay?” The words left Baekhyun's mouth quicker than he could think. He was embarrassed at the possibility of sounding pathetic, but it already happened. It wasn't like he didn't want you to stay. It popped into his mind and blurted from his mouth with reason. 

“Umm...” 

You saw that he looked just as startled from his own words as you did. 

The guests at this hotel pay so much money that most of their requests—even odd—are fulfilled. That being said, most employees are happy to oblige due to the prospective tips. But this… this was different. This felt personal. Requests to “the help” never felt personal. 

He noticed your apprehension and wanted to fill the space with reassurance. “Don’t worry, I’ll tip you for your time.” 

“Oh, no, it’s not that. I just,” you paused, “I just am not used to speaking to a guest for this long, for this often, let alone being invited into their space for more than just replacing something they need.” 

You realized that you could have been jumping to conclusions—maybe there was indeed just something he wanted you to replace or fix and the question just came out of his mouth with odd word choice. Yes. Yes, that's probably it. 

You hurriedly add, “Oh, of course right now you probably just want me to take a look at something for you or restock something,” you laughed nervously. “What is it?” 

“Well, take a seat first.” Baekhyun headed to the couch and you followed, taking a seat on the sofa across. 

He grabbed a couple of champagne glasses and cracked open the bottle to pour it. It was easy to infer that one of those glasses was about to be yours to hold, but the thought still felt too daring. 

“What I want is you. Just to talk, I guess,” he trailed off. 

So, company. He just wanted company. 

You cracked a small smile. 

He placed the bottle into the bucket of ice that rests on the coffee table. 

“You don't have to if you really don't want to, I just, wanted to treat you to something nice for your hard work.” His words were filled with sincerity, eyes with admiration. 

“Just doing my job. No problem.” 

“So, will you stay?” He asked handing you the glass of bubbly. 

You’re a little insecure since it’s towards the end of your eight-hour shift. Your baby hairs and fly-aways make an appearance from underneath the bobby pins you had used to keep your hair slicked in place. Without even looking in the mirror you could tell that your foundation has begun to wear away and your lipstick is dull. No point in reapplying now, though. Soon you’ll be back home to cook dinner. Only after would you get a chance to rest and take time for yourself… unless you take the opportunity that is presented in front of you from him. 

Against your better judgement, you said, “Ok.” 

He was unable to hide the creeping grin. 

You took the skinny glass and had a sip of the most expensive thing you had ever consumed thus far. It was delicious and you couldn't believe he wanted to share it with you. Truth be told, Baekhyun didn't usually drink. So why the champagne? He couldn't deny his urge to impress you a bit. You and your company were worth every bit of the $100,000 spent. 

And so you talked and sipped and talked some more. 

Your conversation gave you more than enough of a sense of who Baekhyun really is. Personable, funny, and filled with stories. As an in-demand artist, whether with his group or solo, he had been performing all over the globe. You listened to the details of his travel memories, hanging onto every word. You were so curious about the rest of the world; you hoped that one day you'd get the chance to become as well-traveled as he was. For now, you live vicariously through his tellings. Baekhyun heard about the locations on your own bucketlist and couldn't help but make mental notes, should he be given the chance to help you turn those dreams into reality. It was cute, watching you speak so freely about the things that you enjoy.  

And you were grateful for the space to do it. For the first time, the interests that you kept in your head had a stage to be heard. Is this what he felt like performing in front of thousands of people each week? 

There was, however, a hint of melancholy behind his voice. Work—fans—allowed him to go on these excursions that meant so much to him. He hadn't been on a trip for pleasure in a good few years. Time had not permitted it. He spoke wistfully about where he'd like to go back to without limitation of schedules. He spoke wistfully about wanting someone to go with.  

Before you knew it, two hours had gone by and the bottle was half-filled rather than the half-empty you would have deemed it before today. You were drunker on the feeling of him more so than anything the champagne could do to you. You felt a buzz from your phone. The text from Gloria sobered you. 

Hey, you okay? I haven't seen you in a while. 

Not only that, you also saw that it was 10 minutes until the end of your shift. You placed your glass down and shot up from your seat.  

“I'm sorry Mr. By—Baekhyun.” You began your march to the exit. “I had a lovely time speaking with you. Thank you so much for sharing a drink with me.” You bowed. 

Baekhyun was happy to give you a moment of relaxation. “No, thank you for sparing me your precious time.” 

You went to grab your apron that you had taken off and hung on his coat rack earlier as to not get anything dirty. His voice broke the motion. 

“Hey, actually, while you're here, can you check one of the lights in the bathroom for me? I think it stopped working.” A white lie doesn't hurt to accomplish a greater good. 

Back in work mode you headed in the opposite direction to inspect the supposedly faulty light. Behind you while you were away, he slipped a one-hundred-dollar bill into the pocket of your unattended apron. 

Make that a good $100,100 spent. 

Baekhyun walked over to the bathroom to find you repeatedly switching the different sets of lights on and off with a puzzled look on your face. 

“It looks okay to me; do you remember which light it was that you were having trouble with?” 

“Ah. It looks like I just didn't flip the right switch for the bulb over the bath. Sorry about that.” He gave a smile. A suspicious one, you thought.  

Nonetheless, you returned to the front door and grabbed your apron to sloppily tie a knot to keep it on just well enough for you to get to your locker before heading out for the night. The door, for the first time in over two hours, was opened. You were met again with the familiar burgundy carpet that exists in all hallways of the hotel. The familiarity of it, however, does not top the unexpected comfort of Baekhyun's presence. You could smell his cologne as he opened the door wider for you: dark with hints of black cherry and sweet, smothering vanilla. It pained you to take in his intoxicating scent. Your eyes almost fluttered close once it wafted through your nose. Did you really have to leave so soon? 

“Bye,” you said quietly.  

Baekhyun had felt something lingering after the door shut. He wanted you to stay even longer but he knew not to get too greedy. He had to get to sleep soon as well—a very early morning filled with dance practice was on his plate for the next day.  

He started a hot shower to end his night. As he undressed and observed the steamy water cast its heat onto the bathroom mirror that you had so thoroughly cleaned, the memories rushed back. He reminisced the feeling of your cheek against his chest and your stunned, shallow breath against his bare skin. He knew that you wouldn't be easy to shake from his mind. Somehow, some way, he had to make you his. 

+++ 

You felt warm when you went back downstairs to change out of your uniform. Whether it was from the too attractive guest or the too expensive alcohol in your stomach, all you knew was that this was one of the happiest days you’ve ever had. You first untied your apron and grabbed it in your fist to discard it into the communal laundry hamper. That was until you felt something within the balled fabric. You opened it to see a folded one-hundred-dollar bill that was tucked into the pocket. 

Your hand flew to your mouth. When did this even get here? Besides when, your mind flew to, who? Except, you knew who. There's only one guest that you tended to today and would continue to tend to for the next 29. You felt silly for receiving such a generous tip for a request that amounted to leisure. He didn't need to pay you for your presence; it was hardly an act of real service.  

You didn't have much more time to think about it, though. Gloria swung around the corner with her own apron in hand, throwing in the towel for her day as well. You quickly stuffed the crisp bill into your purse and continued to change, wanting to avoid any inquiry she might give if she saw it. That moment with him up in his suite was yours; yours to keep close, yours to fixate on. You weren't sure if you were ready to let anyone else in on it. 

“Hey girl, you're finally back.” She announced, giving you a half hug before opening her own locker. 

“Hey G.” 

“So... how was your day?” She asked quizzically with a notably flirty tone and a raise of her brow. 

“My day was good. Normal.” You reassured her. 

“Good?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Normal?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

Gloria closed her locker door and leaned against it with her arms crossed in front of her chest. She countered, “There is nothing normal about that man.” 

You rolled your eyes in response. “Gloria, Baekhyun is just another guest in this hotel full of other important patrons.” You closed your locker door as well, purse slung around your shoulder. You faced her, ready to challenge any remaining assumptions she had. Just then, when you saw the smile of a Cheshire cat spread on her face, you realized the cat was already out of the bag. Uncontrollably, your face flushed. You were the most experienced, professional, dignified, housekeeper in the hotel. So, for you, to refer to a guest so casually by their first name and not the last name convention of Mr. Byun that you started the day with, Gloria had more than enough reason to keep her suspicion active. 

You closed your eyes in shame at your lapse in judgement. She let out a big laugh.  

“First name basis, huh?” Gloria got closer to give you a pat on the shoulder. “Have your fun. You deserve it.” With that, she left first. You heard the shutting of the large industrial door behind her. 

You were left alone with your after-work grocery list, a one-hundred-dollar bill in your fifteen-dollar purse, and the scary wonder of how you were to go about your job as normal when someone so abnormal occupied your mind in and out of the building's gold encrusted doors. 

Baekhyun had found himself looking forward to your daily visits to give him the usual fresh towels and linens. He’d steal glances and pockets of your time to get you to chat. If only he knew that he was on his way to stealing your heart as well. 

He wanted to know more and more about you as the week went on and took every chance he could. He hated when he couldn’t be there to greet you with a warm welcome and a smile. His dance practice sessions were beginning to pick up as his comeback was approaching. This unfortunately meant that he wasn’t able to be there every day during the time you showed up. Besides when he wasn't in his room during the daytime, hated the weekend too—he knew the staff wouldn’t be you. He never looked forward to a Monday so excitedly in his life. 

Monday arrived. 

One week down and three more to go, you thought to yourself as you opened up your agenda the following Monday. This reflection wasn’t as happy as it usually made you when you crossed days off on your calendar. This is one more week closer to saying goodbye to Baekhyun. He could talk your ear off whenever you went to his room for a simple clean, but he was undeniably sweet. He gave you an absolute tooth ache and you weren't ready to part with your new favorite calorie-free dessert. He was such a treat to your soul... and your eyes. You had come to admire his broad shoulders and back in addition to that chest that you became acquainted on your first interaction. 

And him? He was no better than a dog. He fantasized about you during and after your visits, hoping that one day you'd throw him a bone—no matter how unlikely it was. His breath caught in his throat the first time he saw the top of your thigh highs and the straps of your garter belt that held them up when you were bent over. You had a particularly far reach as you dusted along the long edge of a desk; you thought he was busy in the other room. Your fitted skirt rode up as you reach further and further, putting more and more of the flesh of your thighs in view. 

In that moment, all he could think about was knocking the duster out of your hand and taking you on that very desk—pressing your torso down as you were bent over and grabbing a hold of your delicious hips that were always just out of his reach. 

Baekhyun literally bit his fist at the sight. He stood there gawking in the doorway. That was until he realized he was wearing thin, cotton pajama pants that did nothing to hide the evidence of his arousal. As you reclaimed an upright position, he scurried further in the bedroom to shrug on and zip up a long jacket to hide his crotch. You were none the wiser. 

But there you were, at his door on an average Monday at 10 a.m., ready to carry out your average duties. As usual, no “do not disturb” sign is seen on the door, giving you enough clearance to enter. You gave the usual courtesy knock as well—you heard nothing behind the door. No shuffling of footsteps, no “coming” shouted back, just silence. You made a small pout, sad that it seems you won't get to see him today. He is a busy superstar after all. And so, with your universal keycard in hand, you wand it at the door and heard the pop of the lock. You turned the handle and held the door open for yourself as you slid in the work cart. 

The penthouse was empty, surely enough. You made your way in further and peeked through the doorways to inspect for the possibility of an uncharacteristically quiet Baekhyun, but you were alone. 

You took this opportunity of an empty place to do a deep clean as a treat for him. He truly was such a sweetheart for sharing that champagne with you, and this is one of the only ways you knew how to say thank you on your too small salary. You were in a good mood and excitedly got started by sweeping the kitchen floors. You also decided to finally put the speaker to use that you got as a Secret Santa gift last year. You turned on a random Top 100 Hits playlist and made sure the volume was up—you allowed yourself to enjoy this since the entire floor was empty with Baekhyun gone and the alternate penthouse closed. 

You felt free and relaxed for the first time in a long while. You danced around, lost in your little bubble of music and the satisfaction of cleaning up each and every marble tile beneath you.  

“So, sweet, chocolate. I just keep on missing it…” The speaker played the next song. You hummed along to the catchy tune and found it to be an oddly familiar voice. You couldn’t exactly put a finger on it, though. That song was too good to not dance to. Each swing of the broom in your hands was accompanied by a swing of your hips. You made a mental note to add it to your playlist and took a couple blind steps back to retrieve your phone and see exactly what song was playing. 

Right then, upon the view of your music app activity on your lock screen and the sensation of a firm figure behind you, Baekhyun was not only in front of your eyes, but also behind you. Pressed against you, to be exact. You almost screamed but definitely shook from the abrupt impact. The interaction became increasingly testing. His hands gripped your hips to stabilize you. 

You couldn’t contain the peep that escaped you at that moment. 

“Chocolate’s a good one, isn’t it?” Baekhyun said. 

You found your footing and turned around to face the man behind the music.  

He was smiling like a fool. “This must have been the 50th time I’ve heard that song today, but it feels brand new paired with your voice.” 

You didn’t address the content of his words but you without a doubt internalized it. He laughed at how bewildered you looked. 

“Oh my god,” you said as the heat rushed to your face. You turned the music off.  

“Well don’t stop on my account. Please, I was enjoying it.” He said with a dazzling smirk. 

You felt your dignity slip away with each second you remained in front of him. 

“I’m sorry, Baekhyun. I didn't know you were there,” you said, broom in hand, head down in shame. “I’m just doing a deep clean of things since no one was here, and, well, I had nothing better to do.” 

He chuckled, “I came in a couple minutes ago from dance practice.”  

You gave him a look up and down, and sure enough, his attire matched the demands of his previous activities. He wore a graphic tee with loose-fitting gray sweatpants. His skin was slightly flushed from the physical exertion. You also took in the sight of his slightly damp hair and forehead. In this state of imperfection and lack of poise, he looked hot.  

“Well, Baekhyun, I am very sorry to have caught you off-guard with my presence,” you paused to gesture to the speaker, “and my noise.”  

He shook his head “no” to brush off any shame you felt. Before responding verbally, he held a water bottle up to his mouth. You saw him take a long drink. Of course, the water gliding down his throat wasn’t visible, but the external movement of his throat as he swallowed each gulp was. The positioning of his arm being raised made his shirt ride up. The exposed waistband of his Calvin Klein underwear rests above his sweatpants against his lower abdomen. You swallowed and glanced at it and the sliver of skin above it. A slight v-line on display. 

Baekhyun watched you as your eyes trailed down and finished his drink of water with a smirk. “Never worry about bothering me. You're welcome here anytime, for any reason,” he said with reassurance. 

You figured that he absolutely caught where your eyes drifted because the smirk has not left his face.  

In fact, he decided to play with you. 

“I'm going to take a shower now, so feel free to continue whatever it was you were doing.” He casually turned around to head to the bedroom. As he walked away, he pulled his shirt above and over his head in one movement, balling the fabric in his hand to soon be discarded into a hamper. His footsteps away from you were so nonchalant, even a bit dragged out as he made his exit. He wanted you to look. 

You made a tiny gasp at the sudden sight of his bare back. His bare back that was indeed as wide as you imagined. His shoulder blades moved slightly from the forward momentum. 

As Baekhyun turned the corner, completely out of your view, he let out the smile that was threatening to escape when he was still in front of you. At least one of you had to be calm and collected. Secretly, he relished your little audible gasp.  

He started the shower and waited a moment for the water to fully heat up. He undressed and thought about the view he had when he first walked in. You, in your fitted skirt dancing away, moving your hips to the beat of his song.  

Oh, and he was to never forget about you backing up into him. While he was able to appreciate it jovially in front of you, he knew, even in that moment, that it would give him much more than just a laugh. You two had never been closer than right there in the kitchen, just a few minutes ago. It felt so good to be pressed against you. 

He stepped into the shower with conflicting emotions. As pathetic as he felt, Baekhyun couldn’t stop himself from fixating on your hips that he held in his very own hands, nor your ass that so perfectly rubbed against him. He couldn’t stop himself from getting hard and watching his cock grow from the memory. He couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his fist around it and pleasuring himself; the heavy stream of water masking any sounds of his ecstasy. 

He quickly thrusted in and out of his grasp, wishing it was your pussy he was rolling into instead. Even just your lips or hands would be a treat. Your pretty lips surrounding his length and your polite eyes looking up at him… the image got him impossibly close. That is the only reason for you to be on your knees, Baekhyun thinks to himself. You’re so mature, poised, and well-kept. It’s admirable, really. But he craved to get a peek at what’s hiding under all those layers of professionalism. 

The hot water beaded onto his skin, making it all the more easy for him to speed up the stroking of his cock. His mind was filled with you and you only. Your pretty voice, your pretty hands, your pretty legs, your pretty face. 

With you just in the other room, diligently cleaning and oblivious to his perversion, he came. He breathed out your name as he emptied himself down the drain. Each rope disappeared with a lack of purpose. It should have been into you. 

The water was able to wash away the evidence of his arousal, but never his attraction for you that caused it. As the mental fog of his orgasm dissipated, Baekhyun reflected. Though you looked very good in it, you were more than your uniform. You were more than whatever limitations you put on yourself because of your age. He knew that, and he just needs to show you. You didn’t need a man. But Baekhyun wanted to be the man to serve your every need. You’ve been serving others your entire life; he wanted to give you all the pampering you deserve. 

Gosh, he didn’t even know if you were in a relationship. He had to find out. He never saw a ring on any of your fingers… at least there were no legal papers to stop him. 

He was convinced that you were his. His to please. His to make happy. His to, eventually, love. 

It’s almost Friday, you thought to yourself as you were downstairs folding comforters. It was the middle of your workday and you had mostly been alone. When you visited Baekhyun’s suite, he was nowhere to be seen and no surprise sneak-attack happened either. It was just you and your linens this Thursday. You were able to finish his room up quickly and went downstairs for some medial work. Laundry was the task of the hour. You were bored out of your mind as you handled the fluffy cotton bed dressings, making perfect folds and stacking them onto a shelf. 

Your mind wandered during the humdrum task. Flashbacks of your Monday encounter came to you. In fact, this isn’t the first time you had recalled that morning. You found yourself replaying the feeling of his hands gripping you often. Particularly, right before you went to sleep. 

How could you forget his firm fingertips pressing into you? How could you forget his front against your backside? That night and each night thereafter, you listened to the call of your body. It excited you more than you wanted it to. Your hand moved faster than your mind could stop it, touching yourself to the memory of it. Each night, you finished yourself in pleasure, but guilt was never far away. 

You hadn’t seen Baekhyun since then, he had been away during the daytime and was at his suite usually only after your shift was over. Needless to say, the last two days were a drag without him. Every time you were outside of employee-only regions, you hoped that you’d catch him entering or exiting the hotel. The tiniest view of him would be enough to brighten your mundane day. 

You were taken out of your thoughts by the vibration of your phone within your apron’s pocket. You pulled it out to see an incoming call from Gloria. 

Basked in annoyance, she tells you she needs help with an unruly guest in the lobby. 

“I’ll be there.”  

You hung up the phone in wonder of what could be going on that Gloria couldn’t handle alone. You checked the time—1:15 pm your phone reads. It was exactly the middle of the single security guard’s lunch break. 

“Great,” you said to yourself with an eyeroll. You pushed aside the comforter you were just handling and made your way out the double doors into the lobby. 

As the lobby came into view, so did Gloria and a tall man in a suit who held an expression of anger. Beneath them both was a broken champagne flute. Its shattered glass pieces strewn on the floor. 

“What’s going on?” You asked as you entered the tense atmosphere. 

Gloria whispered to you, “He’s getting back at me for telling him he can’t order anymore mimosas. They were part of the brunch special and it ended half an hour ago.” 

“Hey, what? You called for help?” The man scoffed. You could smell the alcohol on his breath. You wonder just how many of these he drank to end up like this. “Maybe helper number two can give me the assistance I want.” He pointed to the mess on the floor. 

“Clean it up and get me another drink.” He sneered. 

“Sir—” You began, exasperated and in disbelief at how entitled he was. 

He grabbed your arm and threw you to the ground. You had your hands out in front of you to catch yourself. Just then, you felt a couple shards pierce the skin of your palms. 

“Now that you’re on your knees how I asked, clean up the damn glass.” 

Baekhyun saw all of this unfold as he entered the lobby’s doors. He was returning from some morning meetings to the sight of the woman he grew fond of getting disrespected. He approached the scene to come to your rescue, seething with anger as he took each step. 

You suddenly felt a pair of hands at your shoulders, assisting you in standing up to your feet once again. You turned around and saw your favorite face. Baekhyun looked back at you with a sorry expression. It didn’t last for long, though. Soon his eyes darted toward the rude man in front of you. Baekhyun shot daggers that would strike with vigor if the guest had any ounce of shame. 

“What? That’s what they’re here for,” the man said with no remorse. 

Baekhyun replied, “This is your own fault. Even with cleaning it up, they wouldn’t be down on the floor to pick up each piece. It would get swept up.” He was at his wit’s end. 

“Sure, but I like to see them where they belong. At my feet. And isn’t it so much fun to watch them bend ov—” 

His words were robbed from him. Baekhyun punched him squarely in the jaw, knocking any intention of finishing that crass sentence out of him. 

“Baekhyun, no!” You shouted as you got between the two men. 

The security guard finally reclaimed his post and made himself known as he asked what the commotion was. Gloria stayed to explain and handle things while you stepped to the side with Baekhyun to calm him down. 

He noticed your injured hand, hating that you got hurt over something so unnecessary. He caught additional damage on your knees that you missed yourself. 

“You’re hurt.” He said it plainly. 

“I’ll just—” 

“Let me take care of you.” 

Your cheeks flushed. “What?” 

He picked you up into his arms as if you were light as a feather. If bystanders’ eyes weren’t on you already, they surely were in that moment. He carried you to the elevators, causing a scene that made Gloria and even the security guard pause. 

You aggressively whispered to him. “What are you doing? Everyone is looking!”  

With the sound of your protests doing nothing to dissuade him, Baekhyun entered the elevator with you in his arms and took you up to his suite. You gave up your pleas eventually. By the time he was approaching the door to his room, your head had fallen against his chest. Your eyes already fluttered close. It felt blissful to put your head against something—someone—warm. You felt selfish for enjoying the moment. This moment of Baekhyun putting himself out for you when it should only ever be the other way around. He is the guest and you are the worker. It felt like everything under the kitchen sink of negativity. Wrong? Check. Inappropriate? Absolutely. Reprimand-able? Indeed, Ms. Park would kill you if she saw this scene.  

It was all those things, and still, most of all, it was sweet. It was caring. Of him, it was selfless. You kept the creeping shame you felt at bay by reasoning that two things could be true: you like this, and this is something that needs to be kept a secret. Further, this is daunting and irresponsible, and it is fun. No matter how contradictory it felt, it was reality. You waded in the morally gray lake that is this unexpected connection you two share. The comfort of dichotomy no longer existed. 

Still, the least you could do to clear your conscience is give gratitude.  

You muttered a gentle, “Thank you,” once he got to the door and set your feet down to the floor. 

He smiled down at you without a single hint of reservation or fatigue. If anything, he wanted to do more for you. 

He put his hand at the small of your back to guide you in before leading you to sit on the couch. The velvet couch cushions sunk beneath you. He retrieved his own first aid kit from his luggage to tend to your hand. He took the seat next to you and rested your palm in his lap. 

With a pair of tweezers, he extracted the tiny pieces of glass that were still wedged in your injured palm. You winced in pain. He gave a coaxing stroke of his thumb along the side of your hand. You mentally prepared yourself as he pulled out the cotton balls and alcohol. The sterilizing liquid stung sharply as he pressed the soaked soft fibers against the cuts. You sucked in a breath and gripped his wrist out of instinct.  

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun said sympathetically. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” 

“I want to.” He paused with his eyes locked to yours. “I’m the customer, correct? My request to you, as the person I am paying, is to let me take care of you.” 

The air fell silent yet the beating of your heart echoed in your ears. You wondered if he could see the rise and fall of your chest from your suddenly labored breathing. You opened your mouth to get something, anything out. But the band aids were applied swiftly and he was quickly up and out of your vision to put away his supplies. 

Baekhyun made his point confidently but walked away with a hint of a rouge on his cheeks. He returned to hand you a menu: the hotel’s menu for room service.  

“See if there’s anything you want.” He said before disappearing into the bathroom. 

You looked over the menu, turning over the pages in awe at the expensive food choices. It all sounded so good, but the prices were something that you could never make Baekhyun pay. You've never been able to afford any entrees from the hotel. Sure, you've nibbled on the leftover hors d’oeuvres that the kitchen staff would hand out, but never a complete meal.  

Your eyes skimmed the pages and your appetite increased. Still, you didn't want to be too much of a burden, so when he returned, you asked for just some tea and crackers.  

He reclaimed his seat and took the menu that you placed to the side. 

“Tea and crackers?” He questioned. 

“Yes, I don’t have much of an appetite.” You lied through your teeth. Too bad your stomach wasn’t as good of an actor. As if you were in a sitcom, your stomach released a perfectly (horribly) timed growl. You quickly held your mid-section in embarrassment. “Ignore that.” 

“Mhmm.” Baekhyun responded sarcastically. 

He picked up the corded phone and pressed the button to the kitchen to input his order. 

“Hello, I’d like to order room service… I’d like two Perriers and two truffle pastas with asparagus.” 

He hung up the phone and turned to you with a cocky grin.  

“I don’t think I heard ‘tea’ or ‘crackers’ in there at any point,” you confronted. 

“It’s my favorite dish here. You’ll like it. I promise.” 

You looked down at your hands, unaware of what to say next. He was pretty stubborn and firm in his decisions. You knew that there was nothing to say, really.  

He looked over to you to say, “You don’t need to deny yourself something nice.” He noticed how stiff you were as well. You sat up completely straight with your hands in your lap, only looking forward, or down. The distance felt too great. In an effort to make you more comfortable, he decided to lay your legs across his lap. He picked them up and rested them on his thighs. You were unable to hide the surprise on your face. 

“Just relax while we wait,” he finished with your name in a casual breath. 

One hand rested on your lower leg as the other scrolled on his phone. 

You felt yourself sink deeper into the soft couch with this new horizontal position. You adjusted to the new placement and looked up at him shyly; you got a small smile in return. 

“You don’t deserve that type of treatment, you know.” 

You replied, “It doesn’t happen too often.” 

“Well, it shouldn’t happen at all.” 

You stayed quiet and reflected on the nature of your job. Service jobs always come with their cons—dealing with less than pleasant patrons was just a de facto aspect that everyone comes to accept. Especially in an environment like this where your money speaks louder than anything that could come out of your mouth. The big egos of the big businessmen who stayed at your hotel were no foreign sight. Unfortunately, getting wind of rich people’s entitlement was one of the first things you had observed when you joined the establishment.  

Baekhyun cleared his throat, taking you out of your thoughts.  

Your eyes shot up. “Sorry, a lot on my mind.”  

“I bet,” he said as he put his phone down. He reached for your calves that rested on him instead. He began to rub and knead the muscles.  

He was giving you a massage. 

It felt good. 

He smoothed your overworked calves with his thumbs; his hands were even softer than the velvet fabric that pressed against you. You closed your eyes, relishing the feeling of him working your muscles until they were no longer taut.  

It was relaxing, too relaxing. You found yourself fighting the urge to drift asleep, but it was too much to overcome. Without protest, Baekhyun noticed the change in your consciousness from the deeper slouch of your body into the cushions. He didn’t wake you. You deserve to rest, he thought. He took the time to observe your features closely. He moved forward just a little, your legs still resting across his lap. He leaned in, as if he would steal a kiss. Stronger than his intrusive thoughts, though, was his curiosity. He thought you were beautiful immediately upon seeing you at his door. Yet, you had never given him the chance to truly get a good look at your features. You always looked away or cast your head downwards out of the raw shyness that you excused as professionalism. He knew you were interested. You didn’t do a very good job hiding your own extra glances or lip biting whenever you caught him sweaty from dance practice or just lounging about in the gray sweatpants that appeared to be your favorite. He knew that seeing his hands closely and feeling them against you, even just briefly in innocently excused contact, did something to you. You’d swallow and your lips would tighten whenever his fingertips grazed you when handing you something. All of the tiny notes Baekhyun made in his head amounted to an encyclopedia of you. More and more, he wanted to know what made you tick. 

But no. He didn’t kiss you then. Rather than be the daring man he wish he’d be sometimes, Baekhyun was as gentle and observant as he always was. He took a mental picture. Hopefully this won’t be his last. Hopefully this won’t be his last time being this close to you. And hopefully, the next time he is, it is under better circumstances. 

A knock on the door made your eyes open and him retreat.  

“I’ll go get that.” Baekkhyun rose and went to the door. 

“Wait, I have to hide!” You said antsy and afraid of the delivery personnel recognizing you on the couch. You made a dash to his bedroom and shut the door behind you. You pressed your ear to the door and listened to the polite exchange between Baekhyun and the employee. While you eavesdropped, your eyes swept the room. Soon, they were glued to the corner of the room where you spotted various silk neck scarves sloppily piled on his nightstand. They were your favorite accessory; you couldn’t help but move closer to them and inspect their prints. You picked one up and admired the artwork on this fine fabric, you caught the tag, shocked to see the Hermes brand name. It was beautiful, but you understood that you would never be able to have such nice things. You picked up another, in awe of the quality and intricacies. 

Baekhyun interrupted your inspection with the opening of the door and the announcement that the coast is clear. Embarrassed, you quickly put down the scarf you were holding and walked toward the door.  

“Sorry, coming now,” you said hoping you didn’t get caught. 

But alas, he said, “Were you looking at the scarves?”  

Timidly, you responded, “Yes, for a bit. They caught my eye. You have a very nice collection. I love silk scarves.” Baekhyun caught the twinkle in your eye. 

“Oh yeah?” 

You gave a nod and were about to slip out the doorway until he spoke again. 

“Which one is your favorite?” Baekhyun walked to the side of the bed that the nightstand and scarves were by. He patted the space next to him for you to join him. 

“Well...” You began, taking a seat and properly looking at them all as he laid them out between you. 

You thought about it, taking another look at the two you already had your hands on and observing all the others. Eventually, you concluded that the Carre Libre scarf was your favorite.  

“I love the palette and the quirky little drawings are adorable.” You touched it along its edging. “The stitchwork on it is impeccable as well.” 

Baekhyun smiled and picked it up before leaning closer to tie it around your neck. Your eyes went large at the gesture. He made the perfect knot. 

“Maybe I want my housekeeper to look like a flight attendant today,” he joked. 

You cracked a smile amidst how bashful you felt. Every time the corners of your mouth raised, he felt like he won the lottery. 

“You can have it.” 

“Oh no, I could never.” You reached up to untie the beautiful fabric. He grabbed your hands and held them in his, down at your lap. You felt your cheeks heat up at the feeling of his big hands around yours. They were warm and soft and you wanted to remember them forever. 

“Keep it. In fact, I want that to be part of your uniform now. Wear it every day that you come to see me,” Baekhyun paused, “I mean, every day that you come to see my suite.”  

He remembered then, that, no matter how much he enjoyed his time with you, he still couldn’t make any real assumptions about how you felt about him. He knew that ultimately, you were a hard worker with a strong work ethic. There were those extra glances and lingering stares that made Baekhyun feel like he had a chance, but in this moment, his nerves cropped up. All your attentiveness towards him could very well just be you doing your job passionately. Either way, he wanted to reward you. He wanted you to know that to him, you were special. 

“Right. Okay then.” You ended with a nervous giggle. You got up to look in the bedroom’s mirror. You were beaming at the new addition to your work uniform. You really liked it. More than you wanted to admit. He came up to stand behind you and if you had dared to move your eyes away from yourself in the reflection, you would have seen his doting gaze on you. 

“Thank you, Baekhyun.”  

He loved seeing you happy and had a satisfied grin of his own. 

“Let’s eat,” he said taking your hand into his and seating you, this time, at the dining table. 

You both dig into the pasta dishes, enjoying the cuisine and the company. 

You didn’t get what you asked for, but he surely gave you what you wanted: the nicer things that you never let yourself have. It was a common theme in your interactions; you were professional to a fault, and he loosened your collar of austerity. 

He had truly decoded you, having a sense of which of your “No’s” really meant “Yes.” 

He made space for you in this bed of luxury that you were always making and tending to, but never rested in. You allowed each other to escape. You from your tax bracket and mundanity, him from his loneliness. 

Just before the end of your shift, you left his room with a new gifted accessory and a smile that was impossible to wipe off your face. He bid you goodbye at the door, and just out of the corner of your view, Gloria was just walking past that hallway. She halted her steps to observe the exchange of “goodnights” between you two. Not only did she catch the looks of longing, but also the neck scarf you’re sporting. Just then, you touched it and thanked him for it one last time before turning to head to the elevator down the hallway near Gloria. 

Gloria briskly made her way to the door to the stairwell, not wanting to be caught seeing your interaction. She smiled to herself, rooting for your newfound spark, and ultimately, your happiness. 

You went home last night with a full belly and an even fuller heart, swollen with feelings for the young gentleman whose suite has been in your care for the past couple of weeks. You got dressed in your uniform this Friday morning in the locker room. It went as usual: the garter belt, the thigh highs, the skirt and blouse. You were just about to shut your locker and begin your day until the corner of a soft black fabric that peaked out of your purse caught your eye. How could you forget the special new addition? You tied it around your neck, just how Baekhyun did it for you. 

“Good morning,” Gloria said, startling you in the middle of your knot. She came in so quietly, you didn’t even notice. Or were your thoughts too loud and happened to drown out the world around you? 

“Hi! Good morning,” you said a bit shaken. You saw her eyes flicker to the silk that decorated your neck. “Oh, yeah. It’s new!” You said nervously while giving your hair a quick smooth over before shutting the locker door. You rushed to leave, not wanting any room for her to pry for more details. 

“You look pretty.” Gloria yelled the sweet affirmation before you dashed out the door. 

You turned back and ran to give her a hug. She welcomed the embrace and you felt the icy guilt melt off of your weary heart. You pulled away and looked back at your friend of 10 years. She recognized a light in you that she hadn’t seen in a long time. No words were spoken. She knew, but didn’t feel the need to say anything and you were relieved she didn’t. This whole time, you’ve felt captive to your own thoughts and just needed to express your happiness to someone else—somehow, some way. The physical connection of a hug did just that. You weren’t ready to speak about it out loud yet, no, that would make it too real. You wanted to spend just a little more time wading in the privacy of you and Baekhyun’s secret bond. 

“Go, go. Your shift is starting,” Gloria said while ushering you out. 

You finally made it out, and this time, without anxiety. You feel free. Free in your thoughts, free in your feelings, free in your desires. 

Right then, you realized that these two very important things are true: 

You could still be a great housekeeper. In fact, you were a great housekeeper. 

And like Gloria said on day one, you could still have your fun. 

   +++ 

Baekhyun saw you that morning. Actually, he watched you. He loved the sight of you going about your day wearing something that he gave you. He wanted it to last forever. Too bad he had his own errands to run before you were done. 

He bid a farewell to you and took a long look at you while you reached and dusted behind the TV. You were distracted by the dust bunnies while he was distracted at the curve of your body as you unconsciously stuck out your ass, leaning forward. 

He didn’t wait a moment longer to finally leave for the elevator. It occurred to him that, despite you not wearing a ring on your finger, you could still be in a relationship. What if he was getting his hopes up when you were already taken all along? He felt guilty about that extra glance at you he just took. Rather than guilty, really, he felt frustrated. Each day you walked in there looking absolutely beautiful. You and him were so close yet still so far apart. He felt like he was looking at you through glass. The only way he could break it is if he knew for sure if you were already in a relationship. Baekhyun was bold but not bold enough to ask you that straight to your face. 

Good thing that on his way out, he ran into your number one confidant in the hotel in the lobby. 

She also happened to be alone, restocking the amenities and refreshments. This was his chance. 

“Hi, you're... Gloria, right?” He asked after recognizing her from the altercation the prior day. 

“Who's asking?” She replied sassily though picked up on his sincerity. 

“My name is Byun Baekhyun, I'm staying up in the penthouse.” 

“I know,” Gloria replied without pausing to look at him. 

“Well, I just wanted to ask about your coworker,” Baekhyun began. 

Gloria paused and finally looked up at him with a raised brow. She asked if it was you, with a knowing smile. 

Baekhyun gave a bashful nod. “How'd you know?” 

“What do you want to know, Mr. Byun?”  

She made her way to the coffee machines to change the filters. 

“Well, umm...” Baekhyun followed to keep up. “Do you know if...” He trailed off, suddenly unconfident in his delivery and the question itself. He realized how odd it could sound. 

“Do I know if she's in a relationship?” Gloria finished for him. 

Baekhyun let out a puff of air before pursing his lips and letting out a terse, “Yes.” 

Gloria grinned, tossing the old filters away as Baekhyun trailed behind her like a puppy. 

“You don't want to ask her yourself, Mr. Byun?” 

“This is just easier, but I understand if—” 

“No, Mr. Byun.” Gloria met his eyes. “She is not in a relationship.” 

Baekhyun tried to stifle his smile but failed.  

Gloria warned, “I will say it's been a while. She divorced her husband four years ago after he cheated on her.” 

Baekhyun's smile was softened with a look of solemnity. 

“Have fun, make her happy, she deserves it. Just, don't hurt her.” 

“You have my word, Gloria. Thank you.” 

Baekhyun continued his way out the revolving doors of the hotel to get on with his day. But now, he carried on with renowned motivation. Now, he knew that he had a future Mrs. Byun to court. 

   +++ 

Baekhyun returned that afternoon. He visited his room to scribble a quick note before poking his head throughout the lobby to find Gloria. After looking around for a few minutes—checking the lounge, the billiards room, the coffee bar, Gloria finally appeared from the depths of the “employee only” section double doors, pushing the familiar cart of supplies and linens. 

He beamed upon spotting her. And she, she was confused. 

“So, we meet again,” Baekhyun teased. 

“What now? Are you curious about where she lives? Sorry, you’re not getting that much info.”  

He chuckled. “You really know how to make me laugh.” 

“Yes. I’m known to be funny,” Gloria gave a cheeky shrug. “What do you need Mr. Byun?” 

“A favor. A big favor. Do you mind leaving this note somewhere in the back where she’ll find it?”  

Gloria looked down at the paper he was referring to and saw your name written on it. Her eyes switched back up to his pleading ones. 

“Again, you don’t want to deliver or say it to her yourself?” 

“Please, pretty please,” he pestered and pouted in front of the busy employee that had little patience for antics.  

“Fine,” Gloria said with a playful eyeroll as she took the paper from him.  

She left her cart to the side to turn around and make a quick visit to the back. Baekhyun didn’t forget to show Gloria his appreciation for all her help. While Gloria was away, he slipped a $100 bill onto her cart and disappeared before she could return and thank him. 

Indeed, you found the note at the end of your shift, wedged in the closure of your locker door. It was a hotel-branded memo sheet folded in half with your name on the outside. You couldn’t pin whose handwriting it was. 

You opened it up to read its contents. 

This Saturday night – yep, tomorrow – you busy?  

Meet me at Dokseodang Children’s Park. 9:30pm. 

He wrote his phone number as well. And next to it read, 

Text me yes or no. 

I want to show you something pretty... besides yourself, of course. 

-Baekhyun 

There it was again. Pretty. 

Even without being in front of you, he could make your cheeks heat up just like that. You wondered how he was so forgetful of your age. It’s not that difficult to see. You didn’t find yourself ugly, but you certainly were not the conventional definition of pretty when that is typically ascribed to those more youthful than you. Not to mention, Baekhyun is a celebrity himself who is in social circles filled with others of his demographic—including female counterparts. Surely, he must be more attracted to them than you. 

You sat down on a nearby bench and stared at the note in your hand. 

You looked at the location again. Dokseodang Children’s Park. You had a general idea of where it could be but pulled out your phone to check. It’s not too far, just on the east side of Hannam. Doable. You don’t really know much about the area outside of the hotel property. UN Village was as exclusive as it got. You, as someone living off the salary of a housekeeper, had no business occupying the same spaces as the wealthiest socialites in the entire country. 

You kept your phone out to give him the answer he awaited. You typed in his newly given number and even made a contact for him in your phone. You had a feeling this wouldn’t be the only time you’d message him. For practical reasons, of course—or so you told yourself. You reasoned that you might need to text him to let him know once you’ve arrived at the destination. Moving forward with the text message, you typed in the three-letter word that opened the door to your first outing in a long time. You had many questions on your mind but none of them made you want to text the sweet man “no.”  

After confirming your willingness to go, you were left with the most pressing question of all. 

“What will I even wear?”  

Alone, nervous, but excited, you walked up the hill under the night sky. You saw the gate of the park coming into your vision. You felt the light wind swirl around you, giving your hair a refreshing tousle as you made your way up. Late that afternoon, you scoured your small closet for something appropriate. You knew it’d be nighttime and currently, it was the middle of July. To dress properly for both the hot summer air and the chance of a moonlit breeze, you wore a sundress and a cardigan. When you came across it in your closet, it was shoved all the way in the corner. You hadn’t worn this dress in years—not that you had much of a reason to. Your weekends were filled with grocery shopping and other humdrum errands. Who knew that you’d be in it again. It was perfect.  

You had no car of your own to drive, but luckily it wasn’t too out of bounds. It was just 10 minutes away from the hotel. This allowed you to follow your usual daily commute for the better portion of your journey. You rounded the corner, just about to face the park, and spotted a single grey Porsche parked on the side of the street. You were about to walk past it when suddenly, its driver’s side door opened. Out stepped Baekhyun.  

He wore a smile as he shut the door. He even began to greet you with a gentle, “Hi.” But upon giving you a better look as you approached him, the word that should have exited his ajar mouth never did and he stood there in a stare. 

“Hi, Baekhyun.” You spoke first. 

He closed his mouth and cleared his throat. “Hi! Um, I’m really happy to see you.” He stumbled over his words a bit, nervously scratching the back of his head.  

Where was that diamond-plated sense of confidence he always had? You wondered. You chuckled at his cuteness, nonetheless. 

“I’m sorry, you just look really beautiful.” He confessed, “I mean, you always do. Even in your uniform at the hotel. But, seeing you out of it, you, you look great.” 

You hoped the foundation you wore was opaque enough to hide the natural blush that he always had a knack of giving you. 

He finally walked over to your side and took your hand. 

“Follow me.” He led you deeper into the park’s premises, to the farthest end towards the city. 

Your hand felt so small wrapped within his larger one. It was warm and soft—just like the other day while you two looked at the scarves. You reflected on how much of a whirlwind your relationship is. This all happened so quickly. Too bad that in another two weeks, it will end just as fast. Baekhyun will no longer be in your care. You would no longer have a reason to see him. The month would be over and you’d be on to your next assignment. You looked down as you were in your thoughts. But him stopping in his tracks took you out of them. You looked up from the concrete beneath your feet to see the vast view of all of Seoul. The skyscrapers were brightly lit, and the water of the Han River glimmered as it reflected the lights of the bridge above. 

You covered your mouth with your hand in awe at the beautiful city lights that decorated your sight. “This is amazing,” you said with glee. 

“I’m glad you like it,” he returned an equal smile. “This is my favorite spot in all of UN Village.” 

“Thank you for showing me.” 

You two stood, enjoying the summer air and the illuminated cityscape. It was peaceful just being beside him and enjoying nature. 

“Can I ask you a question?” You posed, breaking the comfortable silence. 

“Of course.” 

“Is this a date?” It came out your mouth timidly. 

Baekhyun looked away for a moment. His eyes shifted left and right as concerns flooded his head. 

“Does it not feel like one? I’m sorry! I just couldn’t make any reservations in time since I decided on this pretty last minute, and my schedule is tight. There aren’t many places I can go without being noticed as well so I—” You cut off his rambling with a kiss on the cheek. Now it was his turn to blush. 

“I love it Baekhyun, I just... wanted to be sure. I’m still not sure, actually. I believe you but it still just doesn’t make any sense.” 

“What doesn’t make sense?” 

“Well,” you thought for a moment about how to explain yourself. You pondered what the right words were to express the mental turmoil you had been experiencing these past couple of weeks. You wouldn’t have to think long, though, because he vocalized it for you. 

“What? Me being interested in someone that’s older than me?” He looked to you with raised eyebrows. 

You nodded, looking to him for the answer that you were desperately curious about. 

“I don’t really have anything to say to that. I just am.” He spoke with a straight face. 

“Well wouldn’t you be interested in someone that is as famous and has money, like yourself?” It all felt a bit foolish. This connection between you two was real but at the same time not very grounded in reality. 

“I don’t need someone with money, trust me, I have enough of my own.” 

“Baekhyun, that’s not what I meant. I just—” 

He grabbed your hand and pressed it against the left of his chest. You felt how warm he was from over the cotton of his shirt. Not only warmth did you feel. The steady beat of a vital organ pulsed onto your hand.  

He pointedly looked into your eyes as he spoke. 

“Listen to me. All I need is someone who I enjoy spending time with. You are that person. All I need is someone that I love making happy, that I love to make smile. You are that person. And my goodness, don’t you dare ever question my attraction to you again because you have no idea how hard it is for me to keep my hands to myself when I’m around you. I want you.”  

You gazed at him in wonder. Speechless from his heartfelt confessional. 

“I want you because I want you. You are enough and will always be enough. You know why?" He moved closer to you, taking a hold of your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I don’t feel alone when I’m with you. I'm around so many people day in and day out, yet you were the only one who made me feel like I was more than my job.” 

He made his feelings known and he kissed you. His lips pressing softly onto yours as he pressed you against the banister behind you. You had nowhere to go but to accept his passion and release your own that you had been smothering. You kissed back. Eager. Your arms flew up onto his shoulders and pulled him even closer. His tongue prodded at your lips to which you gladly accepted. The kiss deepened; your waist was gripped tightly in his grasp. The fabric of your dress was thin; only a slim layer separated you from his hot touch. 

You were on fire already. He detached his lips from yours, taking heavy breaths. It didn’t take long for his lips to return. This time, on your neck. You threaded his hair through your fingertips and gave a slight, pleasurable tug on the tufts of hair. His lips latched hungrily onto the sensitive skin, feigning for your moans. You felt him smirk against you whenever he earned a whimper. 

The wind assisted in revealing the skin of your décolletage—the air blew your cardigan back. Your skin was showcased beautifully, kissed by the moonlight. Baekhyun took advantage, making sure to trail the assaults to your skin down to the swell of your chest. At the top of your bosom, he pulled back to admire you and your new marks. Your chest heaved up and down, catching your breath from the intimate contact. His eyes were lustful and locked onto your covered breasts. The thin fabric did nothing to conceal your pert nipples that were behind it. His hands wanted to raise from your sides to cup your breasts into his own hands. But instead, he dropped them and let go. The will of restraint came over him. 

“I’m sorry, I got a little carried away.”  

You giggled, breathless, but happy. “I didn’t mind.” 

He cradled your face in his hand and stroked a thumb across your cheek. 

“Thank you for meeting me here. Thank you for listening to me.” He spoke honestly and tucked hair behind your ear. The corners of your mouth pulled up for the umpteenth time that night. 

“There’s that smile. That’s what I’m here for,” he said satisfied.  

Your lips made room for a full, toothy smile. You playfully hit his chest. 

“Well, thank you for sharing this with me. This place and this moment. It means a lot.” 

You two walked hand in hand away from the park. 

“Did you walk here?”  

“Yeah, from the bus stop near the hotel.” 

“Is it okay if I drive you home?” 

You gave a nod and followed him to his car. He opened the passenger side door for you, and you got comfortable in the pristine leather seats. It still had that new car smell and the interior was impressive with blue mood lighting along the dashboard. Wow was all you could think.  

After putting your address in the GPS, you two were on your way. Somewhere along the journey, his hand took a rest on your thigh as he got comfortable into the route. Of course it felt sexy, but it also felt securing and protective. Baekhyun was so many things at once and if you were going to survive, you were going to have to get used to it. 

Eventually, the drive came to an end and Baekhyun walked you to your door. He didn’t let you go without a final, sweet, parting kiss. Your legs felt like Jello. The whole night had been so simple yet so romantic; exactly what you needed as a first date after being single for so long. He made you feel comfortable. 

Once you got inside, you rested against the door with giddiness that had still not worn away. You were certain were not going to get much sleep. 

It was the start of a new week after the glorious weekend you had. Mondays weren’t always chipper, but you had renewed energy in your step. It only got better when you opened the door of your apartment to leave and found a surprise waiting at your feet. 

A bouquet of 50 red roses in a glass vase sat on the concrete. A note was slid into the base that read, “I had a lovely time on Saturday. Hope you like them. - B.” 

It goes without saying that you made it to work with a smile on your face. After fixing your beloved neck scarf in place, you even took the time to put on some lipstick. Right in the middle of your application of the creamy cosmetic, Gloria greeted you, bearing not so exciting news. 

“Ready for the annual training orientation?” She asked rhetorically, equally as displeased. 

“God. It’s already that time of year again?”  

There it was. Annual training orientation day—mandatory for all staff. It was in the company’s policy that everyone completes an annual in-service to refresh them on their knowledge of the protocol and how to handle emergency situations. This was all important, practical stuff; just not what you had in mind for the day. Technically, it was just two hours long, but it always held up the entire shift, making you busier than usual later on. All services were on hold for the first two hours while everyone was in the training and all guests at the hotel were usually notified by notices placed on their door. 

You and Gloria both sighed and headed to the conference room to get the training session over with.  

“Whatever you do, don’t yawn. I did that last year and Ms. Park looked like she wanted to kill me,” Gloria joked.  

The orientation began and you did your best to at least look like you were in tune to what was being said. Nothing is new, it’s been the same procedure every year and this was over your tenth time sitting through it. Gloria looks around the conference to see if she could spot where your boss was, alas, Ms. Park was nowhere to be seen. 

The lecturer, after expressing gratitude for the employees’ attendance, announced, “Sadly, Housekeeping and Lifestyle Director Ms. Park could not make it to the session today, but I’m sure she has trust in all of her employees to take in the information well.” 

You and Gloria exchanged mischievous looks as you both plotted a plan to escape the snooze-fest of an orientation. There was no one to stop you, even if they caught you sneaking out. 

After the lecturer was turned around to advance the slides on the projector screen, you both took the chance. You joined Gloria in quietly jogging out of the room, incontrollable giggles escaped you in the childish act.  

“Wow, I can’t believe you actually ditched that with me,” Gloria to you said proudly.  

You’re equally shocked at your own actions. You laughed along while grabbing your cart to sneak away and do your usual duties for Baekhyun. It hit you then. Would you really have done that before Baekhyun?  

   +++ 

That Monday morning for Baekhyun went differently. When he came back from his 8 a.m. run and saw the notice on his door about kitchen and housekeeping services being paused until the afternoon to accommodate annual training measures, he was disheartened. A pout adorned his sweaty face. No new towels—not that he needed them yet, no fresh bedding—didn't need that either, and no you—something he absolutely needed. Though he still had the opportunity to see you later, it felt like every hour, every minute counted. He wouldn’t be staying at the hotel forever; he wanted to take advantage of every given opportunity to be around you. 

He made his way into his suite with a sigh but went on with his routine. He showered and found himself back in bed, bored out of his mind. He didn’t have the kitchen staff available to entertain him with a meal either. Baekhyun was alone. He even turned on rain sounds through his speaker in an effort to make himself sleepy and take an unneeded nap, though it was no use. He tossed and turned; sleep wouldn’t take him. He finally lay on his back and looked up at the ceiling. Though he didn’t have much to do, there was still lots to think about. 

Specifically, thoughts of you painted his mind. He wished he could have seen your face when you saw the flowers that morning. He hoped he made you happy. You certainly made him happy. Next, flashbacks of Saturday night appeared behind his closed eyes. The wind through your hair, your infectious smile and tantalizing gaze. But most of all, the kiss. That amazingly captivating kiss you two shared that he needed pull back from or else. Baekhyun thought about your lips, your tongue, and recalled what he did with his own mouth, to you. He wondered if those love bites he left would still be visible on your skin. And what a dangerous thought that was, it only made him want to see you more. He was frustrated and without relief. Before he knew it, an erection pressed against the top of pants. 

Usually, he staved off any solo sessions unless he was in the shower. He never liked having the do not disturb sign on the door because he never wanted to miss any of your visits. But that also meant that freely being exposed at any random time during the day was off-limits.  

That morning, too, there was no do not disturb sign on the handle, but did that matter? Baekhyun pondered the situation at hand. There would be at least two more hours that you were away attending the training orientation. He couldn’t request you to be there even if he wanted to. This was a guaranteed two hours of no visitors.  

His hand slowly drifted to his crotch to palm at the growing bulge. With the reassurance he gave himself that no one would enter, he continued to let his thoughts run wild. 

He thought about the way your breasts looked in the dress you wore that so perfectly draped over your curves.  

He thought about the swell of your breasts and how he wished he kept taking his bites lower and lower. 

Then, your waist that fit so nicely in his grasp. 

It was all a little too much and he finally decided to take himself out. With his eyes closed and his mind projecting the teasing mental images he took of you that night, he surrendered to the growing hunger that you gave him.  

   +++ 

You pushed your cart down the hallway to Baekhyun’s suite, still fueled by the excitement of your great escape. You met his door and saw that unlike the others, his no longer had a notice on it. “He must have gotten the word,” you said to yourself. This meant he wasn’t expecting you at all, but you were more than happy to give him a surprise. All you wanted in this moment was to see him.  

With that, you delayed no further and went ahead opening the door. Immediately, you were met with the sound of...rain. Strange, you thought. You quickly peered out the windows across the space and saw that it was as sunny as it was when you left the house is morning. You pieced together that he must be playing those sounds himself. So, where is the man in question? You didn’t see him in the open concept kitchen and living room space that you were in. You softly walked towards the bedroom and gradually, the sound of the pitter-pattering rain got louder and louder. Your detective hat could be put away now since you figured he was playing those rain sounds to help him fall asleep. You’ve had nights like that yourself; a little audio aid doesn’t hurt. Of course, it was the morning, but knowing his schedule, it was totally plausible that he was up all night practicing or preparing for something as he usually was. 

You pouted a bit at the circumstances. You went out of your way, committed a scandalous act that broke the company’s policy (though you knew there were no real concerns about it), and it seemed all for nought. He was definitely asleep and you definitely didn’t want to wake him up from his precious time of rest. He deserved it.  

You were about to leave but decided to get one peek at him before you went. You could still get your wish to see him—even if you couldn’t interact with him. Since the bedroom door was open, it wouldn’t be too difficult to get an innocent peek at his sleeping face.  

You made your way to the bedroom from the left, careful to not make too much noise and disturb his sleep. You rested a hand on a mounted shelf on the wall and leaned over to the right to get your coveted peek at him. 

Nothing could have prepared you for what you witnessed. You gasped deeply at the sight. 

You got your wish. You got to see him. That’s for sure. 

Except, nothing was innocent about this sight. 

It was wrong. You knew it was wrong to stay and look, but you couldn’t keep your eyes away. You stood there and watched. You watched his hand slide up and down is attentive cock that you had only imagined until this point. What you fantasized it to be was trumped by the real sight of it. You saw him throw his head backward with his mouth ajar. He mouthed silent curses as he worked himself with his eyes closed. Whatever it was that was driving his actions was all in his head. Just then, if you weren’t mistaken, you could have sworn your name left his lips. Your eyes had open even wider. Once more, the unmistakable sound of each syllable of your name fell out of his mouth as he grunted in pleasure. 

You staggered in place and the hand that had rested on the mounted shelf moved a bit too much, causing you to knock over a book. It fell to the floor with a thud. 

Shit. 

Baekhyun immediately halted his movements and whipped his head in your direction. You jumped out of view of the bedroom, knowing for certain that had alerted him of your presence. Rather than fully retreat, you decided to stay by the doorway, and to just keep still and quiet. You told yourself it was best that way—totally not because you were making an excuse to continue watching him, of course. 

Baekhyun indeed noted the sound and your attempts at stealth were in vain. He knew good and well that he was not alone. The corner of his mouth pulled up for a moment, but he thought it’d be best to keep a straight face for his next actions. Baekhyun felt like a pervert but couldn’t deny himself the opportunity to toy with you. At first, he just continued pleasuring himself as he had been, except this time, he made sure to let out any and all explicit moans and groans that naturally came about. 

With no reserve, he audibly expressed his pleasure with each stroke. He audibly expressed the object of his lust as well. Your name, candy-coated in desire, dripped from his lips within the mix of “ah’s” and “oh’s.” The shock and shame you felt began to twist into something more enjoyable. You let out a deep breath, happy that it appeared you didn’t completely blow your cover. Indisputably, you were a voyeur in this scenario. A voyeur who couldn’t help but get wet at what she gazed upon. You bit your lip as you felt warmth begin to stir within you.  

Baekhyun had enough of putting on a show on his own; he wanted a special audience member to join his play.  

While continuing his movements, he spoke out confidently, “You know, it’s rude to stare.” 

You panicked and frantically made the moves to leave after being caught. You took steps back to remove yourself from the room, from this scene that you only meant to witness and not participate in—to the hallway, to the safety of your cart, to the comfort of solitude. Baekhyun caught wind of this, hearing your feet shuffle away on the marble floor. 

He warned you, “Don't try to leave. You have to stay. If you don't,” he stressed his last words, “I’ll report you.” 

You knew Baekhyun would never put you in such a dangerous situation. Rather than a threat, it was permission to surrender. All you wanted, all you needed, was a reason. A reason to keep you there with him—and you got it. Your steps had ceased, feet no longer helping you escape your own desire—nor his. 

“Good girl,” he said with a dark chuckle. “Now come here.” 

The low, stony tone of his voice made you melt. 

Your mind swarmed with possibilities. What does he want with me?  

“Are you really going to make me wait?” He urged you to come to him. 

You made hesitant steps closer and closer to the entry of his bedroom. 

“Baekhyun, please, I apologize, I only came to bring you more linens,” you spoke as you entered, not meeting his eyes. You looked everywhere else in that beautiful penthouse bedroom besides the man who occupied it. He was sitting up on the side of the bed. At least, at this point he had put himself away. You felt both grateful and disappointed. 

“Oh, is that so?” He paused, enjoying your timid appearance. “Shouldn’t you be at the training orientation? I saw a notice on my door this morning. You shouldn’t even be here, should you?” 

He was absolutely right. There was no reason for you to be there. There was no excuse but your own selfish desire to see him. Your guilty form remained silent. 

“In fact,” he continued, “didn’t the announcement say it was mandatory?” His words with his gaze bore a hole in you. “Why aren’t you there?” 

You looked up at the ceiling for the universe to bless you with an answer to salvage your dignity. Alas, none appeared. He patted his thigh for you to sit. 

“Come here.” You obeyed without protest, slowly lowering yourself down onto his lap. If you moved too far to the right, you could feel his still-active erection against your bottom.  

He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, and you closed your eyes. You loved his touch, no matter how simple. His hand lingered on your hair, softly smoothing it in a petting motion as he continued his interrogation.  

“So, tell me, why are you here?” 

Your eyes were shifty but forced to focus once he took a finger under your chin to turn you towards him. For the first time that morning, you faced Baekhyun. You looked at his features that were just twisted in bliss some moments ago.  

“Because I wanted to see you.” You answered honestly with shame. 

He smiled a full grin. “You missed me so much you broke the rules, huh? I’m honored, Ms. Professionalism,” he said cheekily. 

You smiled as you looked down at your hands. Things have changed. 

He admired you for a moment, taking in your lipstick and beloved scarf.  

“How could I have let you go out that door? Especially not when you made yourself so pretty today.” His thumb stroked your bottom lip. “Did you put this on for me?”  

You nodded wordlessly and the look of lust re-darkened his face as he stared at your lips. 

“Did you like what you saw, you know, as you were waiting to... give me more linens?” 

Your head went up and down again as you looked into his eyes, hanging onto every word. His hand took a hold of your side, pulling you closer into him. 

“What is it that you used to call me before I told you to call me by my first name?” 

“Umm,” you hesitated because, is the answer to his question really that simple? You only ever remembered calling him by his last name before that. 

He tightened his grip on your waist and latched his teeth to your lobe, giving a teasing bite to the tiny bit of flesh. You couldn’t help your labored breaths, nor the whine that escaped once you felt his tongue graze that same spot.  

He whispered, “What. Did. You. Call. Me?” Each word articulated directly into your ear, accompanied by the soft puffs of his warm breath added fuel to the fire that blazed in your hot core.  

“Mr. Byun.” 

He gave a cold chuckle. “Good girl,” he praised. You whimpered at the pet name. You relished the approval. There he was, younger yet in command. A guest in your expert, seasoned care, yet so easily, he had you wrapped around his finger.  

You were more than turned on by this new side of him, but really, it’s not out of nowhere. Though Mr. Byun is typically bubbly and lighthearted, Mr. Byun had always done what he wanted, taken what he wanted—ever since that champagne you shared. His current grip on you said no different.  

Soon though, you were free.  

Baekhyun let go and told you to stand up. He requested with waiting eyes, “Undress for me.” 

You hadn’t done anything in years. You’d been single and busy; there were little opportunities to make meaningful connections here at your job. So, when you were told to step out of your uniform, out of your perfectly tailored daily armor, to be subject to this wealthy, younger man’s gaze who is probably used to fitter, tighter bodies, you shrunk back. 

Baekhyun could sense the type of thoughts that swarmed in your head. He saw your hand drop from the zipper it was holding—just about to unzip your skirt—to instead clasp your other hand in front of yourself. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said before standing up to hold your face in his hands. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “I like everything about you.” He backed you up to the bed and laid you onto the plush covers. He found space to join you in between your legs. “Can I show you just how much?” He ended the question with a kiss on your cheek as he hovered you. He cleared away your face once more tucking hair behind your ear. You shivered at the sensation, quickly becoming reminded just how sensitive your ears were. He acknowledged your reaction and rubbed along the contour of your ear, making your eyes flutter close. He grinned in fascination before rejoining his lips with yours. He craved learning everything about you, including your erogenous zones. 

Staring down at your needy form beneath him, he knew how badly you wanted this. Still, your nerves were evident and loud. Baekhyun wanted to help you relax. 

The first thing he removed from you was your neck scarf. He quickly examined its length and looked satisfied. You cocked an eyebrow in curiosity. 

“If you can’t stand to see me,” Baekhyun began while holding the neck scarf over your eyes and making a knot at the back of your head, “...just feel me.”  

He crashed his lips onto yours, drawing a suppressed moan from your needy lips. You whimpered at the sudden warmth. All you had wanted to do since your date was feel his lips again. Finally. Open-mouthed kisses trailed to your neck; he replaced Saturday’s faded bruises with fresh ones. With each kiss he pressed against your skin, your insecurity melted away. With each moan you gave, his concern dissipated. Visions of red clouded his view.  

He wanted you. Mr. Byun wanted you and you wanted him and maybe that was enough.  

He unfastened the buttons of your blouse and the back of your bra. Your breasts were cupped and kneaded. Your moans intensified as he gave each of your nipples a kiss. His hands lowered to your hips, and he hiked up the fabric of your skirt to expose your undergarments. Feeling along the length of your leg, he took in the smooth texture of your stockings. His eyes drifted up to your garter that held everything in place. 

“Fuck,” he breathed out. The garments framed your legs so well, in such a sexy way. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to see these up close.” 

He descended to your feet and removed each of your shoes. Your loafers hit the floor with weight. Kisses were placed at the top your foot and one by one, traveled up your leg. The pure intimacy made you squirm. He reached your thigh and unclipped the straps of your garter before hooking a finger into the side of your panties and sliding them down. 

You sucked in a breath, your wet heat exposed to the air.  

“Oh baby, looks like you want this just as bad as I do,” he said assured as he observed the glistening wetness of your entrance. 

“Yes,” you whined. 

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, Mr. Byun.” 

He was holding your face again. In your world of darkness, you felt his palm on the side of your cheek. This time, though, he prodded his thumb at your lips. You accepted it, swirling your tongue around the digit before softly sucking. You couldn’t see, but Baekhyun’s eyes rolled back, barely able to withstand his cock that ached in his pants—still untouched since you entered the room. 

He slid it out of your lips and brought it down to your clit. His lubricated thumb easily rubbed tight circles onto your bud. You wriggled beneath his touch, forcing him to hold your hips down in place. He hooked his arms from under your bent legs and sunk down into the bed. He faced your cunt directly to get a taste.  

You felt the intense unexpected warmth of his tongue slide along your pussy as he continued to massage your clit. You gasped and grabbed a fistful of his hair. Your blindfolded state left you perpetually in wonder of what would come next. 

Baekhyun moaned at your taste and the feel of your grip on him. “You taste so good,” he exhaled. His licks were accompanied by occasional plunges of his tongue inside of you that made your back arch. Your moans and trembles eventually gave notice of your closeness to the edge. The edge that he wasn’t ready for you to fall off of yet. He removed his mouth much to your dismay. 

You whined in protest. 

“Shhh, baby. I’ll give you something even better.” 

You bit your lip in anticipation as you heard him remove clothing and toss it to the floor.  

Just then, you felt something warm and firm probe your entrance teasingly. You opened your legs wider, knowing it was his cock that you had waited so long to feel. His cock that you had fantasized about so many nights and now, he wields it to taunt you. 

Baekhyun looked down at his tip getting coated in your arousal, wanting more, wanting to feel you completely, yet having too much fun making you squirm. 

“Say please,” he demanded with unwavering authority. 

Your bottom lip quivered before muttering a soft, “Please.” 

He slid his cock up and down your slit, still not entering you, still not satisfied with your plea. 

“Mr. Byun. Please. Mr. Byun, fuck me right now. Please just—” 

He stole your words with the long-awaited sensation of his shaft penetrating your folds. You let out a loud cry instead. You thanked god he was the only guest on this floor. The quick snaps of his hips drew out lengthy moans as you grabbed onto his shoulders to ground yourself. It had been so long since you had someone in you, and your fingers just didn’t compare. He stretched you out so deliciously, you couldn’t help the endless moans that escaped. 

Baekhyun released groans of his own. He couldn’t believe how perfectly warm and wet you felt wrapped around him. Looking down at you and your bouncing breasts that jostled with each of his thrusts was almost too much. He fucked you without mercy. 

Your legs shook around him as the pleasure coursed through you. You saw sparks within your self-contained darkness. Taking away your sight heightened your other senses. You felt each time Baekhyun tightened his hold on your waist. You tasted the remnants of coffee on his breath you kissed in the midst of your feverish romp. You heard each of his desperate pants as his thrusts became sloppier. 

You were no better, beginning to rake your nails down his back from the intensity of his carnal desire. It began to feel overwhelming. You were coming to your peak.  

He rabidly tore the makeshift blindfold off of you. Baekhyun lost it, seeing your eyes, the full fucked-out expression on your face that he gave you. Your eyes welled up with tears until you closed them from pleasure, spilling them onto your blushed cheeks. 

“Mr. Byun, I-I...” You attempted to announce your orgasm, but coherent thought was impossible.  

“Baekhyun is here baby, it’s ok. Let go for me,” he coaxed, smoothing his thumb across your cheek as he held your precious face.  

With a scream of his name, you felt yourself come undone. Your body shuddered beneath him. 

Baekhyun leaned down to plant one last love bite onto your well-decorated neck as he groaned darkly into your ear. He pulled away to look at your face. You looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, languid and recovering from your climax.  

Reaching a hand up to thread your fingers through his hair and giving those soft tugs he loved so much, you said, “Baekhyun, baby, come for me.” It came out soft but irresistible to his ears. 

His hips stuttered in their movement, and he quickly pulled out of you. He barely gave himself an additional stroke before spraying his cum all over you. He coated both your skin and your treasured undergarments. 

Panting, Baekhyun looked down at you, his freshly painted masterpiece. You looked so pretty covered in the evidence of his attraction. An exhausted but satisfied smirk spread on his face and he dipped down to give you a kiss.  

“I’ll get you cleaned up.” He jogged over to the bathroom and you heard the water run as your eyes closed for a moment. You opened them again upon feeling a warm cloth. He wiped your limp body clean with a damp washcloth before discarding it in the hamper and joining you in bed. 

Baekhyun claimed a spot next to you and shifted his position to a rather adorable one. He put his head in your lap and looked up at you. He took your hand and placed it on his head, hoping for you to pet his head. You entertained it, giving him the tiny repetitive touches that let him know that you appreciate him. 

The room fell quiet except for the sounds of rain that continued to play through his speakers. Though the rain sounds hadn’t been working as an effective sleep aid before, they surely were beginning to for the both of you in the post-orgasmic bliss. 

His eyes fell closed as your thighs supported his head and your hand ceased its motions. With a voice soaked in sleepiness, he asked you one more thing before you both dozed off. 

“Did you like the flowers?” 

Until the month’s end, you and Baekhyun continued your fun when you could. Secret, satisfying, and sacred was your connection. Do all good things have to come to an end? That’s what you wondered this morning. The 31st of the month. The ticking timebomb that your relationship was, was soon to explode and leave nothing behind. 

You dressed in your uniform and tied the scarf around your neck. Will you continue to wear it after he leaves? The smile you wore out the double-doors when beginning your shift that you donned lately had a struggle appearing today. You felt anxious. Afraid that all the good you felt this past month would be gone. And that he would move on, away from the hotel, into his freshly renovated new penthouse, and never think about you again. You knew he cared for you, but to what extent? Your daily obligation to see each other would no longer exist and Baekhyun was a very busy man. 

You arrived to his suite and before you could even knock, the door opened before you. Baekhyun held a box of his things in his hands. You looked behind him and saw that the suite was stripped of any and all traces of him. Held in his hands was the last of his things. Your chest felt tight. 

“Hi...” Baekhyun trailed out. “I was hoping to catch you on my way out. Even if I didn’t, I’d come to find you.” Baekhyun was upset that his hands were preoccupied. He wanted nothing more than to pull you in for a hug. Instead, he just held a solemn expression on his face.  

“Well, here I am,” you gave a half-smile. 

“I have to get to my house to meet with the designer and move my stuff back in,” he said regretfully. 

“Yes of course.” You stepped out of his way so that he could exit. You kept wishing for him to say he’d see you later, for him to tell you to meet him somewhere—but it never came. Is this it? 

“Will you walk me out?” 

You sighed, leaving your cart parked at his door to follow the man out the hotel doors, out of your care, out of your life. The valet brought his car to the front; your eyes laid upon the gray Porsche you got to know some nights ago. It’d be leaving without you in it. Baekhyun opened the trunk to put in his items and came back around to the front. By the driver's side door, he stood in front of you. You stared back at each other wistfully. A thousand words unspoken, a thousand memories shared, a thousand secrets kept. The quiet was suffocating but necessary. You were reminded of such when the valet attendant entered your view. 

“Sir, your keys.”  

It snapped Baekhyun out of his daze. He reached for the keys and thanked the man. Once he turned back to you, he didn’t get the one last look of your face he was hoping to get. It was only the top of your head. 

You bowed deeply. You couldn’t bear to see him leave. You couldn’t risk the attendant seeing your emotions. With the view of Baekhyun’s shoes becoming blurry from the incoming tears pricking your eyes, you bid your farewell. 

“Goodbye, Mr. Byun.”  

Without looking back, you turned around to return to your cage. You passed through the ever-cycling revolving doors. You, yourself, were right back where you started.  

You got back to his suite. Shedding never-ending tears, you grabbed the used towels in the bathroom. 

But what else was there to do? He went on with his life, and you had to go on with yours. This was your life. Cleaning rooms of rich guests that saw you as their servant was your life. Did Baekhyun see you the same way? Were you just something to entertain him while he was away from his real home, from his real life? He didn’t say much this morning. Nothing that indicated that he wanted to stay in a relationship. Nothing that indicated he wanted to keep you around.  

At least you had the last word. You weren’t going pry. You weren’t going to beg. You refused to look like an idiot chasing after someone that was never yours. You ended things—cleanly, professionally, with dignity and respect. As you always did. And you would continue to be the respectable housekeeper that you always were—before and after him.  

So, there you were cleaning the bathroom, once more. You willed yourself to stop crying. Getting up on the counter just as you had 30 days ago. And instead of feeling sorry for being late, you felt sorry for feeling sorry all those days ago. If you weren’t so hell bent on making it up to him by cleaning passionately back then, maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation now. 

You looked at yourself in that oversized bathroom mirror. You were a changed woman. Though he was no longer there, he was written all over you. And unfortunately, you liked yourself more this way. 

You exited the bathroom to strip the bed of all its sheets. The bed that you laid in next to him. The bed that bared witness to your unforgettable intimacy. 

It felt cruel. 

You moved the pillows, and upon doing so, it made your previous efforts to stop your tears pointless. You broke down after discovering one last gift. 

Under the pillow was a plain red silk scarf. Next to it was a note that read, simply,  

We will meet again. - B 

  +++ 

He ran circles in his mind as he drove home. Baekhyun didn’t know what to say. He had your number, but he didn’t know what to do. He knew, that if anything was going to happen, it had to be him that did something. The ball was in his court and he was choking in the last minutes of the game. Ultimately, he knew he had to tell you what had been on his mind. The thing that kept him from promising to see you again. How could he claim you as his and then leave for half a year?  

Indeed, Baekhyun had a tour beginning in three days. It was something he still hadn’t told you because he wanted to ignore the reality of it himself. He was excited to meet and perform in front of his fans all over the world, but he was not excited to be without you. The truth was now looking him in the face and driving a wedge between you to. He had to talk to you. No matter what your answer was, he had to let you know that he still cared. 

Parked in his driveway, he called you. It rang just once. 

Baekhyun greeted you with a shaky hello, but you cut him off quickly. 

“I have work, I’m sorry. I cannot talk to you right now.”  

You ended the call and returned to your reflection. There was no way you could speak to him and get through the end of your shift. If you heard his voice again, the tears would come back. 

He knew you were upset, understandably. He even caught the crack in your voice from when you said goodbye. He decided not to attempt to contact you again. He wondered if it was even right to given the circumstances. If you were doing the work to get over him and close the door behind what you two shared, who was he to rip those hinges off? He didn’t want to toy with your heart. Why make you go through that, just to leave you again in a few days for an even longer amount of time? 

He went into his house with his box of belongings, preparing himself for his new surroundings. The designer was present and happily walked Baekhyun through the rooms, pointing out all the new elements. Baekhyun appreciated the excellent craftsmanship of the renovations, greatly impressed. The designer left and it was once again, him alone. He looked around at the walls; they were now decorated with framed artworks. One of them was a painting of interlocked hands. He turned away, feeling as if it was mocking him.  

He went to his bedroom and began packing his suitcase for his upcoming departure. He needed to fill his time with something to do, as filling the walls clearly wasn’t enough. It was all as he envisioned it to be, yet the goal was not achieved. Now his penthouse looked like a home, but it didn’t feel like one. He felt unsatisfied. And in the middle of folding one of his t-shirts, he realized that the only time he hadn’t been unsatisfied was in fact when he wasn’t in a home of his own at all—it was when he was with you. 

It wasn't new aesthetics that his place needed. It wasn't new items to artificially create coziness that he needed. It was a matter, not of objects, not of things, but of connection. He needed a someone, not a something, to make his house a home. He knew who he needed. 

A sentence of three words floated in his mind, and he was compelled to tell you. But not yet, he told himself to wait for tonight. And he’d do it in a way that didn’t allow you to shut him out so quickly. He knew it was selfish. His responsibilities in the next few days remained the same. But now, he just didn’t have the heart to leave without telling you how he felt. 

  +++ 

It was 9 p.m. and you just got out of your shower, hair damp and in pajamas. You sat on your loveseat in front of your small TV, shuffling through the channels to find something—anything to watch to stop thinking about him. He didn’t even try to call me back again, you thought. But you remembered the scarf. Really, it was the note. “We will meet again,” it said. You scoffed. Through the damn TV screen, I guess. You hated that the message was so vague. Vague enough for him to never make do on his words. Why didn’t he specifically ask for another date? Anything with a time and place would do. 

You were knocked out of your thoughts with a string of knocks on your door. You looked through the glass viewing hole on your door. It’s him, of course. And in his hands, he held a single rose and a gift box. You hesitated, hand on the handle, but not yet turning it.  

“I’m not leaving until you open this door. If you want me to leave, you’ll have to say it to me.” 

Begrudgingly, you turned the handle and revealed yourself to your guest. 

“I love you.” 

His words hung in the air, heavy as the duvets you folded. Air thick as the hotel’s pillows. You stared back at him in astonishment. 

He took a step closer to you. “Listen, I have a tour. I’ll be gone for six months. I’m sorry I didn’t say much this morning. I just didn’t know how to tell you. And I don’t expect you to wait around for me either, so I didn’t want to put you in a weird position.” 

You took in his words, still not giving any of your own yet. Truth be told, you understood him. You felt yourself withdraw your resentment. 

He continued, “Do you know why I was staying at the hotel for a month?” 

“Well, weren't you getting renovations done?” 

“Yes. Do you know why?” 

You shook your head no. 

“Because I wanted my house to feel more like a home.” 

You beckoned, "So... do you like the changes?” 

“Sure. My house is really beautiful actually,” he chuckled. 

You rolled your eyes, “Well good for you,” you said about to shut the door until he caught it with his hand. 

“But,” he looked into your eyes, “It didn’t give me what I was looking for. I was a fool, thinking that filling it with things would make me feel less... lonesome.”  

He handed you the rose and gift box he held, and you placed them to the side. You decided to invite him in, wordlessly signaling him to your couch with a gesture of your hand.  

He sat next to you as you looked pensively at your hands. 

“Please say something,” he asked desperately. 

“So, the renovations were a waste of time and money then,” you remarked. 

“No.” He held your hands in his. “It brought me to you.” 

He earned a smile from you. He kissed your hand. 

“Well, I just wanted to tell you this. That you are my home, and if you let me, I can’t wait to come back to you when everything is over.” 

You gave a nod of reassurance, “I’ll be here.” 

He stood up and reached into his pocket for one last offering. He handed you a key, placing it in your palm. “This is a spare to my place. You can come see it yourself... or you can stay in it too... if you want to of course,” he said nervously, scratching the back of his head. “I mean of course you have our own place—that I’m standing in right now—and it’s nice! But just in case you want a change of scenery or want to keep my house warm—” 

You cut him off with a kiss and a sweet smile that let him know there was no need to be nervous. 

“I’ll think about it,” you said cheekily. “Are you going to make me clean it?” 

You both chuckled and you walked him to the door. 

“Baekhyun?” You asked biting your lip. 

“Yes?” He looked on in curiosity. 

“I love you too.”  

It rushed out your mouth and you just barely caught his smile before quickly shutting the door from your own nerves. You were glad you got it out. Though it wasn’t your smoothest moment, he heard you, he felt the same—and that was all that mattered. You rested your back against the wooden door with a hazy daze. The gift box you placed to the side caught your eye.  

You opened it up and laid your eyes upon his parting gift to you: looking at the label, it was Hermes’ Ivresse Au Vent scarf 70. Another silk scarf, this time of a pastel palette showing horses running in nature. Once again, he left a note. You read it, hearing it so clearly in his voice. 

Like the horses, we will be free. If you wait for me this little while, I will give you my forever. 

[plasmapumpkin]

The Language of the Black Parade

By Nate Piekos

Soon after being contacted by Gerard Way to work on the 2025 Long Live the Black Parade tour, I thought it might be a good idea to start writing down notes in the event that I decided to compose an article on how the typeface came together. Not really knowing if I’d actually get it done—or have enough interesting info to even justify an article—I just scribbled thoughts and dates on sticky notes which were soon lost to the chaos of my studio. I tried my best to find them all (and I was semi-successful) when the time came to write this.

In August of 2024, I received an email from Gerard asking me if I was up to design a font for the following year’s My Chemical Romance tour. Gerard and I have worked together since the beginning of The Umbrella Academy comic books published at Dark Horse (Wikipedia tells me that was back in 2007). We’ve always gotten along really well. We’re approximately the same age, and we’re both really into comics and music. Of course I said I was interested, so we scheduled a Zoom call to hash out the details.

The afternoon of the Zoom call, Gerard filled me in on his concept of the tour, which would lean heavily on a fictional dictatorship rooted in an equally-fictional Eastern Bloc country. He wanted to create a language that was both made-up, and yet felt entirely real. In fact, he already had a name for this language...

KEPOSHKA

We started delving into 1930s and 40s posters from Russia, England, Italy, and other countries, compiling a morgue file of reference images. We would send pictures to each other and try to figure out what appealed to us. After poster art, we moved on to brutalist architecture and then period typefaces. It was about that time that I broke out the art supplies and started sketching. I used 11” x 17” graph paper, tech pencils, and Copic tech pens.

As I filled out the first sheet of ideas, I would email or text pics to Gerard and he enthusiastically approved pretty much everything—going so far as to hang print-outs in his studio as inspiration for the other facets of the tour’s design work. Quite an honor for me. Other members of My Chemical Romance were now getting their first look at what we had been cooking up. While I didn’t have any direct contact with Mikey, Frank, or Ray, I was told that they were excited at the samples they’d been shown.

After three or four rounds of this piecemeal approval of ideas, it seemed we were moving in the right direction and Gerard gave me the go-ahead to work independently. While I was sketching, he emailed me one particular glyph that he’d created and was calling, “the hangman” symbol. It was inspired by the old pen and paper game called, Hangman, that kids used to play. Gerard thought the symbol looked like the gallows from the game. This eventually became our Keposhka version of the letter “R”, and you can see it in the translated version of the MCR logo at the beginning of this article.

A second sheet of 11” x 17” sketches followed over the next couple of weeks. When that was approved, I felt like it was time to progress to the next step: bringing these ideas into the digital realm. I began working on vector versions of the glyphs in Adobe Illustrator. Quite a few of the ideas from the sketches were used. When I ran out, I began creating new glyphs without reference. I was finally at a point where my familiarity with the style allowed me to just make up new symbols on the fly.

We also began thinking about numbers and punctuation. Many other non-English languages use standard numbers. Since these fonts might be used for merch, tour graphics, and other instances that might require understandable numbers, I created a clean, western set of numbers.

KEPOSHKA CONDENSED & EXTRA CONDENSED

Originally, this whole project was just focused on a single pair of fonts; somewhat wide, very clean, sans-serif versions of Keposhka Regular and Italic—but I began to see that there might be a need for more. I finished up the initial set, I proposed a Condensed Regular and Condensed Italic. Gerard was all for it. Later on, this Condensed set was shown prominently in the initial live-action trailer for the tour. If you look closely, you can see many instances of Keposhka Regular in the final scene of the trailer as well.

Since I was proposing the Condensed set, I figured an Extra Condensed Regular and Extra Condensed Italic might be useful for scenarios where space was at a premium. Gerard was eager for me to come up with anything I thought might be useful and gave me the thumbs up.

I took the vectors of Keposhka Regular, Italic, Condensed Regular, Condensed Italic, Extra Condensed Regular, and Extra Condensed Italic created in Illustrator, and ported them over to Fontlab. This is my software of choice for doing all the programming, kerning, etc. involved in making professional, finished typefaces. I think it took about a month and a half to wrap up all six fonts. A well-designed font family can take up to several months to finish, but our deadlines were tight—there were other designers waiting on these fonts so they could get started on other facets of the tour.

MCRIn late October/early November, with very few corrections from Gerard, the six fonts were approved and delivered, and as far as I knew, I was finished with the project. Little did I know that six fonts was soon to become fourteen!

KEPOSHKA ENGLISH

A few months later, I got an email from Gerard. He’d realized that he needed an English typeface…and it would need to work aesthetically with our fictional language. Off the shelf English fonts might not cut it. Gerard wanted something custom-made. Gerard was already very busy with tour prep, so he let me work almost completely on my own. I found myself re-hired on the project, and I got back to work. There would be no more analog sketching of ideas; I decided to work 100% in the digital realm, creating vectors in Illustrator. We decided on a simple sans-serif. Something traditional, slightly wide, and pleasing to the eye. This eventually led to Keposhka English Regular, Italic, Bold, and Bold Italic (bringing us up to ten fonts total).

I’ve been making fonts for over twenty years, almost all of which are in English and other Latin-based glyph sets, so Keposhka English went more quickly than the fictional language. I didn’t have to imagine how weird symbols would fit together, or how this imaginary culture used punctuation, etc. I was back in my comfort zone.

I finished and delivered Keposhka English Regular, Italic, Bold and Bold Italic in mid-April of 2025. I thought it meshed with the original Keposhka when displayed side-by-side, and so did Gerard. Once again, I thought I was done . . . but it was not to be! Gerard had one more idea up his sleeve.

[continued in reblog]

[magnagaruzenmon]

Photos and Favors I NSFW

You ram inside and out of Ahin with reckless abandon the tightness of her pussy and swell of her hips make fucking her an absolute pleasure. Her ass is ripe and perfect for spanking, which you've done on numerous occasions. If you could spend all day and night fucking her you would. If you could make her pussy your day job you'd apply in a heartbeat, but being her boyfriend right now was perfectly fine. As you lose your mind Ahin rolls up and smiles at you before kissing you while you thrust into her.

"Ah right there baby," she says in between velvety moans. Her voice had a soothing dulcet tone even in the throes of pleasure. Her walls begin clenching your manhood, a telltale sign informing you of her impending release. You moan as you thrust harder and faster into her. Ahin moans as his beautiful breasts bounce up and down and sway in the mirror she had you buy specifically to fuck in front of. You smile enjoying the view before saying, "Man these next few months are gonna suck without you. I wish I had a photo book of you so I could remember your body,"

Ahin notes this as she cums all over your cock. Then she backs her ass into your crotch a few more times to wring your orgasm out. The two of you smile before exhausted you both pass out.

Ahin wakes up a couple of hours later to her alarm blaring a cheerful K-pop track you vaguely recognized as one of her former group's songs but couldn't name if your life depended on it. She fumbled for her phone on the nightstand, silencing the sound with a groggy groan.

“It’s time to go already? Ugh, I hate alarms,” she muttered, her voice thick with sleep. She sat up, stretching with a dramatic yawn that ended in a satisfied sigh.

You leaned against the doorway, watching her with a lazy grin. "So this is how a glamorous ex-idol starts her day? Truly, a sight to behold."

“Keep talking and I might not miss you these next two months,” she teased, rolling her eyes but smiling as she reached for her packed suitcase. "Don’t forget me while I'm gone, okay?"

“Forget you? Impossible.”

You helped her to the car, waving as she left for her hotel. She had a business trip in Japan, then your band’s six-week concert tour. Two months apart was a long time, but as she drove off, Ahin’s message from a few days earlier came to mind—"It won't be a full two months, and I'll have a surprise for you,"

A few days later I got a DM on Instagram from a famous former K-pop idol asking for my number. When I got the text from Ahin asking me to do the shoot, I was surprised. I mostly did regularly published and moderately successful shoots, so being approached for a personal project by a famous—wait, my mistake, former—K-pop star was unexpected. She’d explained that she couldn’t pay me in the traditional sense but promised she’d “make it worth my while.” Intrigued, I agreed. It wasn’t a complicated shoot—just a few photos in her hotel room that would probably take 30-45 minutes.

A few days later, I arrived at the hotel, where the attendant at the front desk gave me some trouble. "I’m here to see Ahin. She’s expecting me."

The attendant frowned, clearly unimpressed. "I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t let anyone up without prior clearance."

Before I could argue, a supervisor appeared, glanced at me, and waved me through. “It’s fine. Ms. Ahin called ahead about him. He’s good to go.”

I thanked him and took the elevator to her room. As I approached, I could hear muffled music inside. Her alarm again? I knocked, and after a brief pause, a groggy voice called out, "Come in!"

I opened the door cautiously, finding Ahin sprawled on the bed, her hair an artful mess and her eyes half-closed. She fumbled for her phone on the nightstand, silencing the blaring music.

“Morning,” I said, setting my gear down as she stretched with another exaggerated yawn.

She glanced at me with a bleary smile. “Morning? Barely. I just woke up. Give me a second to look human.” She dragged herself upright, rubbing her eyes.

I couldn’t help but smirk. "Quite the wake-up routine. If this is how glamorous retired idols greet the day, maybe I’ve been doing mornings wrong."

“Hey, I’m still semi-glamorous,” she shot back, her grin growing as she finally stood and ran her fingers through her hair. “I mean, did you see that pose I nailed earlier? That’s cover material, admit it.”

“Oh, definitely. If the cover is for Idol Life After Retirement Monthly,” I teased, earning an exaggerated gasp.

"Wow, rude. I invite you into my hotel room, let you photograph me, and this is how you treat me?" She placed a hand over her heart like I’d mortally offended her.

“Relax, superstar,” I said, holding up my hands in mock surrender. “You’re still photogenic enough to make my camera blush.”

That earned me a laugh—soft and genuine, the kind that made me wonder if she really knew how to take a compliment or if she was just good at pretending she didn’t need them.

“Well,” she said, brushing her fingers through her slightly messy hair, “I guess you’re not completely hopeless as a photographer. But you know, I only let you shoot me because I trust you.”

“Oh, really? I thought it was because I was cheap.”

“That too,” she quipped, leaning forward with a playful glint in her eye. “But mostly because you’ve got that... vibe.”

“Vibe?”

“Yeah, you’re like, mysterious but approachable. Confident but not cocky. Plus, my boyfriend loves your work, so this is a win-win.” She shrugged as if this assessment wasn’t mildly flattering. “The kind of person you can trust to keep things ‘off the record.’”

“Wow, I’m blushing. You really know how to charm a guy.”

“Don’t get used to it,” she said, throwing me a pillow, which I barely dodged. “My compliments are rare and fleeting. Like me.”

“Noted. Rare and fleeting idol, compliments duly appreciated. Anything else I should write down while you’re feeling generous?”

She tilted her head as if considering. “Yeah, write this down: you’re taking me out for coffee when I get back from Japan. I deserve a reward for putting up with your sass.”

“Deal,” I said with a chuckle. “But only if you’re buying.”

She narrowed her eyes in mock offense. “You’re terrible. No wonder I like you.”

“I get that sometimes,” I responded, smirking as she disappeared into the bathroom.

“So,” I called out, adjusting my equipment, “what kind of tone are we going for? Sexy, innocent, cute, or something else?”

From behind the door, her voice came, amused but thoughtful. “How about all of the above? Let’s keep you on your toes.” Ahin strutted out a few moments later in a sexy crimson lingerie set.

“So, how’s this for a look?” she asked, one eyebrow quirked playfully. “Casual but chic? Or just lazy?”

I adjusted the settings on my camera, pretending to be deep in thought. “Hmm… somewhere between ‘I woke up like this’ and ‘fashion magazine model pretending to be relatable.’”

She laughed, stepping fully into the room. “I’ll take it. Ready when you are.”

I motioned for her to stand by the window where the natural light poured in, soft and golden. She complied, leaning against the frame with a nonchalant air. The cityscape behind her provided the perfect backdrop, contrasting with her relaxed demeanor.

“Okay, tilt your chin up a little,” I said, raising the camera. “Perfect. Hold that.”

The shutter clicked a few times before I spoke again. “So, why this whole ‘off the record’ thing? You don’t seem like someone who cares much about what people think anymore.”

She shifted her weight, her expression softening. “You’d be surprised. Even when you’re out of the spotlight, people still have opinions. But this isn’t for anyone else. It’s for me, and maybe someone special.”

“Fair enough,” I said, snapping another shot. “And the gravure style? That’s not exactly something I’d expect from you.”

She laughed lightly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t know, I guess I wanted to try something different. Push myself out of my comfort zone. Plus, it’s not that risqué.” As she said that struck a pose that emphasized her ass and tits so I was unsure of what she meant by Risqué to be honest

“True,” I lied. “But it’s definitely a shift from what I’m used to seeing of you. Not that I’m complaining.” Ahin bent over for another shot showing off her sweet smile and cavernous cleavage

“Oh? Do you watch all my old music videos on repeat or something?” she teased, arching an eyebrow.

I chuckled. “Maybe. They’re pretty catchy. And the choreography? Mesmerizing.”

She struck a quick pose, mimicking one of her old routines. “I still got it,” she said with a grin before contrasting with another sexy pose where she slapped her ass with a cheeky smile.

“Definitely. Okay, let’s move to the bed for the next set,” I said, nodding toward the neatly made bed in the corner.

She climbed onto it, sitting cross-legged as she adjusted her bra so as much of the breast could be seen without showing a nipple. “So, what about you? What got you into photography?”

I adjusted the camera as I considered her question. “Honestly? It started as a hobby in high school. I liked the way you could freeze a moment, and tell a story with just one image. It felt like a way to connect with people without having to say much.”

“You don’t strike me as the quiet type,” she said, tilting her head curiously.

“I guess I’m not, but my words often got jumbled due to social anxiety so it was much easier to say things using images instead of words,” I admitted. “Photography was my way of being understood without having to shout, you know?”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I get that. For me, it was performing. Being on stage was the only place I felt like I could really be myself.”

“And now?” I ask before I take another shot, her eyes seductive and sultry.

“Now…” She paused, looking down at her hands. “I’m still figuring that out. Being out of the spotlight has been nice, but it’s also weird. Like, who am I if I’m not Ahin, the idol?”

“That’s a heavy question for a Tuesday afternoon,” I said gently. “But for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing fine. Exploring, trying new things—it’s part of the process.”

She looked up at me, her smile tinged with gratitude. “Thanks. I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime,” I said, snapping another photo.

The shoot continued with more laughter and conversation, each frame capturing not just her beauty but the layers of vulnerability and strength beneath it. By the end of it, the room felt lighter, like we’d both learned something about the other—and maybe about ourselves too.

As Ahin glanced through the shots on my camera, her smile widened. “These are amazing. You’re good at this.”

“Like I said,” I replied with a smirk, “I make cameras blush.”

She rolled her eyes but laughed anyway, handing the camera back to me. “Okay, mister confidence. So, about that whole ‘making it worth your while’ thing…”

I raised an eyebrow, curious about where this was going. “Yeah?”

“I owe you a favor for doing this on short notice. What’s it gonna be?”

I leaned against the edge of the bed, pretending to think it over. “Hmm. How about… you set me up on a date with an idol?”

Her eyebrows shot up, and then she broke into laughter. “A date? With an idol? Oh, this is going to be good. That’s a surprisingly tame request from the gravure photographer. Okay, well then give me a list in case we can’t do option one,?”

I grinned, pulling out my phone like I was reading off an actual shortlist. “Let’s see… Jeewon from Cignature, Sana from Twice, Arin from Oh My Girl, Nancy from Momoland, Bibi and Eunbi Kwon the soloists, Umji from Viviz, and Hyewon.”

She blinked at me, then crossed her arms, her expression unreadable. “Wow. You’ve really thought this through.”

“Hey, you asked,” I said defensively, though I couldn’t keep the playful edge out of my voice.

Ahin shook her head, lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Okay, first of all, Bibi? Nancy? Sana? Too much woman for you.”

I held a hand to my chest in mock offense. “Ouch. You don’t think I can handle them?”

“Nope,” she said flatly, laughing at my wounded expression. “But the rest… maybe.”

She pulled a small notepad from the nightstand, scribbled something down, and tore off the page. “Here,” she said, handing it to me.

I looked at the note. It was an address and a time, three weeks from now. Beneath it, was her phone number.

“What’s this?” I asked, puzzled.

“Meet me there,” she said with a sly smile. “And text me before you chicken out. I’ll figure out which idol can tolerate you best by then.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence,” I replied, tucking the note into my pocket.

“Consider it a test,” she said, leaning against the doorway as I packed up my gear. “If you survive three weeks without pestering me, you might just deserve your date.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Challenge accepted.”

As I left the hotel room, note in hand, I couldn’t help but feel like I’d just been pulled into one of her games. But I wasn’t complaining. If nothing else, Ahin definitely knew how to keep things interesting.

Here’s an expanded scene showing the passage of weeks as the narrator and Ahin text and grow closer, establishing their friendship dynamic:

The first text from Ahin came two days after the shoot.

Ahin: Hey, I just saw some of the photos again. You didn’t even make me look half bad. Impressive.

I smirked at my phone.

Me: “Half bad”? Wow, high praise. Should I add “photographed Ahin” to my resume or wait for the glowing testimonial?

Ahin: Pfft. You wish. You’ll get a glowing testimonial when I’m officially retired and too old for anyone to care.

The banter began there and didn’t stop. Over the next few days, we texted off and on. The topics started simple—photos, her travels, my other work—but quickly veered into more personal territory.

One night, a week after the shoot, she texted out of the blue.

Ahin: If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?

I blinked at my phone, then laughed.

Me: Random. But pizza, no contest.

Ahin: Basic. But respectable. Mine’s tteokbokki, obviously.

Me: Obviously. The real question is, how spicy can you handle it?

Ahin: Level 1000. Don’t underestimate me.

The next day, she sent me a picture of a massive bowl of tteokbokki, the sauce practically glowing red.

Ahin: Dinner. Bet you’d cry just looking at it.

Me: That’s not food. That’s a crime scene.

Her reply was just a string of laughing emojis.

The more we talked, the easier it was to see past the idol image she projected. Ahin wasn’t just sharp and funny; she was surprisingly grounded for someone who’d spent years in the spotlight.

One night, a couple of weeks in, she sent me a voice memo.

“Okay, so get this,” she began, her voice animated. “I’m at this fancy dinner for work, right? And this guy—a producer, mind you—spills an entire glass of wine down my dress. He’s apologizing like crazy, and I’m trying to be nice about it, but all I can think is, ‘Wow, this is the universe telling me to quit this job already.’”

I laughed as I hit record to reply. “Maybe the universe is just telling you not to wear white to a fancy dinner.”

Her text came back almost instantly.

Ahin: I should’ve taken you as my date. You’d have carried my spare dress, right?

Me: Obviously. And probably spilled the wine myself for good measure.

The weeks slipped by in a series of conversations like that. Sometimes we talked about nothing—her go-to late-night snacks, my weird collection of vintage cameras—and sometimes we talked about everything.

One night, while I was editing photos, my phone buzzed.

Ahin: Do you ever feel like you’re just… winging it?

I paused, considering.

Me: All the time. Why?

Ahin: I don’t know. Everyone thinks I’ve got it together, but I don’t. Not really. It’s weird pretending to be someone everyone else expects me to be.

For a moment, I wasn’t sure what to say. Then I replied:

Me: Maybe it’s not about pretending. Maybe it’s about figuring out who you want to be now.

There was a long pause before her reply came.

Ahin: Thanks. That’s… actually helpful. But don’t let it go to your head.

Me: Never.

It wasn’t until the third week that I realized how much she reminded me of my little sister—the same mix of wit, charm, and the occasional tendency to overthink everything. Ahin was fiercely independent but also surprisingly open, once she trusted you.

One afternoon, I sent her a picture of an old, beaten-up camera I’d found in a thrift shop.

Me: Look what I rescued today. This thing’s a dinosaur, but it’s got character.

Her reply came with a photo of her own—a perfectly styled selfie with a goofy expression.

Ahin: Speaking of character, this one’s got loads. Guess I’m your competition now.

Me: That camera doesn’t stand a chance.

Ahin: Neither do you.

She followed up with You’re so lucky I don’t charge you for my brilliance. Little sister discount.

Me: Little sister? Is that what we’re going with now?

Ahin: Yeah, but don’t get too comfortable. I’m the cool little sister.

I couldn’t argue with that. As much as she teased, her texts were always a bright spot in my day.

By the time her trip to Japan was wrapping up, our friendship felt as natural as breathing. She was still Ahin—the sharp-tongued, quick-witted former idol—but now, she was also just someone I could count on.

Three weeks later, I found myself standing outside a small, trendy café tucked away in one of Seoul’s quieter neighborhoods. The address Ahin had given me led here—modern yet cozy, with an unassuming exterior that hinted it wasn’t just a random spot.

I checked my phone. Ahin hadn’t texted me back after I sent her a quick “On my way” message an hour ago. Typical. She liked to keep people guessing.

Pushing open the door, I scanned the café. It wasn’t busy—just a couple of tables occupied, but no sign of Ahin. I was about to grab a seat when a waitress approached, handing me a folded note.

“For you,” she said, smiling.

I opened it, recognizing Ahin’s handwriting immediately.

“Go to the rooftop terrace. Your date’s waiting. Don’t embarrass yourself.”

I raised an eyebrow, a mix of amusement and nerves bubbling up. Ahin wasn’t kidding. She really set me up. The question was—who?

Climbing the stairs to the terrace, I ran through the list in my head. Jeewon? Arin? Hyewon? I tried not to get my hopes up, but my curiosity was killing me.

When I reached the top, the soft sound of laughter greeted me. There, seated at a small table overlooking the city, was someone I instantly recognized.

Hyewon.

She was scrolling through her phone, a cup of tea steaming in front of her. When she noticed me, she put the phone down and smiled—a shy, polite smile that didn’t betray much.

“Hi,” she said, standing to greet me. “You must be Ahin’s friend.”

Friend. Right. That’s all I was to Ahin, but hearing it stung just a little. I shook it off, offering my hand.

“That’s me,” I said, introducing myself. “And you’re… wow. Hyewon.”

Her laugh was soft, almost bashful. “I hope that’s a good wow.”

“Oh, definitely,” I said, sitting across from her. “I just wasn’t expecting… you. Not that I’m complaining.”

She tilted her head, studying me for a moment. “Ahin said you were charming. I guess she wasn’t lying.”

“She said that?”

“She also said you’d try too hard,” she added with a teasing glint in her eye.

I groaned, shaking my head. “Of course, she did. She loves setting me up to fail.”

Hyewon laughed again, this time more openly. “Well, you’re doing fine so far. A little flustered, but it’s cute.”

The ice broke, and we settled into easy conversation. She told me about her recent projects, her favorite spots in Seoul, and how Ahin convinced her to go on this blind date.

“She said you’d be fun,” Hyewon admitted, taking a sip of her tea. “And that you wouldn’t be intimidated.”

“Intimidated?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, some people think idols are… I don’t know, untouchable or something. It’s nice to just talk, you know? No pressure.”

“I get that,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “For what it’s worth, you seem pretty normal to me. In a good way.”

“Normal?” she repeated with mock offense. “Should I be insulted?”

“Not at all,” I said quickly. “Normal is underrated. And besides, I doubt anyone else at this café can say they’re having tea with Kang Hyewon right now.”

Her smile softened, and for a moment, the conversation stilled.

“You’re not what I expected,” she said quietly.

“Is that good or bad?” I asked.

“Good,” she said simply, her gaze meeting mine.

As the afternoon stretched into the evening, I found myself relaxing more and more. Ahin’s note hadn’t been a prank, and for that, I was grateful. Maybe this “favor” wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

By the time we said goodbye, exchanging numbers and a promise to meet again, I couldn’t help but smile. Ahin might’ve teased me endlessly about this, but she’d been right about one thing: this was worth the wait.

You arrive at your hotel for the concert back in Seoul tired. You had put on quite the show everyone was fired up by your performance. Now you hoped for some sweet dreams and calm nights. What you didn’t expect was Ahin dressed in nothing but her little red bikini which happened to be your favorite. Ahin smiled and said, “Miss me?” You nodded as all of her fatigue was replaced by an almost depthless lust you approached Ahin while removing your clothes. She smiled at you while singing Happy Birthday in an angelic tone. “You smiled as she happily let you close the distance.

“Is this my surprise?” you ask euphoric. Ahin shakes her head as she carefully pulls the bikini strap down revealing two flash drives each taped to her nipple. She smiles before setting them on the nightstand. Then she takes off the bottom part of her bikini revealing a third flash drive taped to her clit. She adds it to the row and then says, “For when you miss me.”

You smile then start to strip. By the time you get to her Ahin is rubbing slow tortuous circles around her clit and right breast, “fuck get over here,” she moans needy and desperate.

“I have been waiting for you for a full month." she moans as her pussy glistens and calls to you like a siren. As you close in on her she smiles happily before you plunge deep into her cavern. She moans,

"Fuck I missed this cock," she says as you thrust in and out of her. She's tighter than usual and the friction makes you light-headed, as you both cum after a few moments. You groan and look at each other ditzy and ravenous but the flesh is spongey.

"that was intense," Ahin says as she sticks a finger in her cunt before licking the cum out.

As you watch you get harder and before long you thrust into her again. Ahin moans as she cums all over your cock again. You chuckle and say,

"You're just a slut for my cock aren't you?" Ahin moans wordlessly as you ravage her guts. Her sopping pussy welcomes you snugly.

"Fuck babe, you're so tight." You groan as you take your girlfriend. She growls and places both your hands on her breasts.

"Fucking grope me," she says as she takes your cock. You roughly massage her chest as she begins fucking herself on you and she begins to clench again before cumming again. She squirts around your cock as you keep hammering at her G-spot. She moans as her eyes roll back.

"Fuck cum in me." Ahin moans as she takes more and more of your cock. You smirk seeing the sassy and smiling Starlet reduced to a mewling mess because you make get rougher with her. You smack her perfect ass before you pull out then flip her over so you can ravage her from behind. You start out slowly letting her adjust.

"Ah fuck stop this slow gentle shit fucking ruin me." you smile with your green light and thrust harder into her, but keeping the drawn-out pace. Each thrust drives the former idol's mind to mush. she moans as you watch her ass ripple and sway as you take her further then shes ever gone.

"Fuck!" she moans drawing out her words and then you spank her harder then she's ever been spanked, and she cums again as the pain and pleasure fry her brain. you continue chasing your high though as she goes limp. her body utterly spent. as you rut inside of her still clenching pussy.

Ahin moans mindlessly as you continue to take her, until you pull out and cum all over her ass and back.

"Ahh Fuck" she says happily. You smile as you lay down next to her exhausted.