#more in her case because they were dating for nearly three years

[whenthegoldrays]

you know, seeing some of the awesome ladies here on Tumblr that are still single in their 30s and thriving has made me feel better about the idea of singleness and to know logically that in many ways, it's actually better to get married later — but on the other hand, my cousin just got engaged at age 30 and every single one of us (including me) has been absolutely shocked that she was single for this long

[yeoldenews]

While we’re on the subject of names, is there an explanation for how traditional nicknames came about that are seemingly unrelated to, or have little in common with, the original name?

ie- John/Jack, Richard/Dick, Henry/Harry/Hank, Charles/Chuck, Margaret/Peggy/Daisy, Sarah/Sally, Mary/Molly, Anne/Nan, etc

I am actually over a week into researching a huge follow-up post (probably more than one if I’m being honest) about the history of nickname usage, so I will be going into this in much, much more detail at a hopefully not-so-later date - if I have not lost my mind. (Two days ago I spent three hours chasing down a source lead that turned out to be a typographical error from 1727 that was then quoted in source after source for the next 150 years.)

As a preview though, here’s some info about the names you mentioned:

The origins of a good portion of common English nicknames come down to the simple fact that people really, really like rhyming things. Will 🠞Bill, Rob🠞Bob, Rick🠞Dick, Meg🠞Peg.

It may seem like a weird reason, but how many of you have known an Anna/Hannah-Banana? I exclusively refer to my Mom’s cat as Toes even though her name is Moe (Moesie-Toesies 🠞 Toesies 🠞 Toes).

Jack likely evolved from the use of the Middle English diminutive suffix “-chen” - pronounced (and often spelled) “-kyn” or “kin”. The use of -chen as a diminutive suffix still endures in modern German - as in “liebchen” = sweetheart (lieb “love” + -chen).

John (Jan) 🠞 Jankin 🠞 Jackin 🠞 Jack.

Hank was also originally a nickname for John from the same source. I and J were not distinct letters in English until the 17th Century. “Iankin” would have been nearly indistinguishable in pronunciation from “Hankin” due to H-dropping. It’s believed to have switched over to being a nickname for Henry in early Colonial America due to the English being exposed to the Dutch nickname for Henrik - “Henk”.

Harry is thought to be a remnant of how Henry was pronounced up until the early modern era. The name was introduced to England during the Norman conquest as the French Henri (On-REE). The already muted nasal n was dropped in the English pronunciation. With a lack of standardized spelling, the two names were used interchangeably in records throughout the middle ages. So all the early English King Henrys would have written their name Henry and pronounced it Harry.

Sally and Molly likely developed simply because little kids can’t say R’s or L’s. Mary 🠞 Mawy 🠞 Molly. Sary 🠞 Sawy 🠞 Sally.

Daisy became a nickname for Margaret because in French garden daisies are called marguerites.

Nan for Anne is an example of a very cool linguistic process called rebracketing, where two words that are often said/written together transfer letters/morphemes over time. The English use of “an” instead of “a” before words beginning with vowels is a common cause of rebracketing. For example: the Middle English “an eute” became “a newt”, and “a napron” became “an apron”. In the case of nicknames the use of the archaic possessive “mine” is often the culprit. “Mine Anne” over time became “My Nan” as “mine” fell out of use. Ned and Nell have the same origin.

Oddly enough the word “nickname” is itself a result of rebracketing, from the Middle English “an eke (meaning additional) name”.

I realized earlier this week that my cat (Toe’s sister) also has a rebracketing nickname. Her name is Mina, but I call her Nom Nom - formed by me being very annoying and saying her name a bunch of time in a row - miNAMiNAMiNAM.

Chuck is a very modern (20th century) nickname which I’ll have to get back to you on as I started my research in the 16th century and am only up to the 1810s so far lol.

[cocobeanncteez]

Ateez Choi San — Safe Habor

Genre: SMUT (mdni / 18+), angst, fluff, strangers to lovers au

Pairing: Attorney! San x CEO! Reader (fem)

Word Count: 22.5k

Warnings/content: divorce topics, reader is framed for drug possession and distribution, domestic violence by reader's ex (very brief scene), mentions of a failing marriage, lack of support from parents, please note that the reader's ex husband in this story is a random name I made up and so are other names in his story other than ateez, court battles, restraining order, reader gets arrested, driving under strong emotion, making out, breast play, dry humping, hand job, oral sec (f receiving) / cunnilingus, fingering, clit play, vaginal penetration, protected sex (pill), multiple orgasms, praising, pet names (sweetheart, baby), sorry if I missed anything else!

You stand in front of the large windows of your penthouse, gazing out at the city skyline. The lights from the buildings in the distance flicker like stars, but tonight they bring you no comfort like they usually did.

The weight on your shoulders has been growing heavier with each passing day, pressing down on you until it's nearly suffocating.

The argument you had with your husband, Baek Jaeyoon, echoed in your mind— his awful words were sharp, cutting, and so very dismissive. He’d once made you believe in the possibility of a partnership, a marriage of equals, but now you see it was an illusion, one carefully crafted by him and your family.

You never wanted to marry so early in the relationship, especially not for convenience, for business. But your family’s expectations were clear: Jaeyoon was the right choice, the only choice, a perfect match simply because his family was as wealthy as yours.

Sure, you liked him. You even dated him for a couple of months before your family said it’s time to get married. Yet, the more time passed, the more you realized you were just another asset in a long line of acquisitions for him. The love you once tried to cultivate has wilted away, leaving behind a barren landscape of resentment and pain.

Tonight, you finally admit it to yourself—after a year of being his wife, this marriage is over.

Your heart clenches with the thought, but there’s a quiet strength within you. The decision is terrifying, yes, but also liberating. You’re not just doing this for yourself; you’re doing it to reclaim the life you’ve lost in the process.

You’re Y/N— the CEO of one of the biggest furniture companies in the nation, Saturn & Co. — a woman who has built her career and reputation on her own terms. You’ve faced hostile takeovers and boardroom battle. Surely, you can handle this.

But you know you’ll need help, someone who can guide you through the legal labyrinth that awaits. You first think of Hongjoong, your longtime friend, a friend you've known all your life.

Hongjoong comes from a lawyer family that has been in this field for generations. His father was a very reputed attorney, now retired, who helped many wealthy clients win their legal battles. His father became friends with your father during their college days and are still very close to this day, so it's no surprise that you and Hongjoong became great friends too. He’s always been there when you needed him, and now, more than ever, you need his expertise.

With a deep breath, you turn away from the window and reach for your phone, dialing his number.

After three rings, he answers your call. "It's almost eleven. Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Well, hello to you too, Joong," you chuckle, "Why are you still up?"

"Ah, I'm just going over some documents for a high profile case," he explains, "What's up? All okay? You never call this late."

You take a deep breath. "I... this might sound crazy or stupid, but I want to get a divorce."

There was silence on the other end for a brief moment before he said, "It's not crazy or stupid. Have you thought this through completely?"

"I have," you answer with a sigh, "You know how my parents are. They will throw a huge tantrum and threaten to disown me as usual." Hongjoong hums at that. "But Joong, I just can't live with Jaeyoon anymore. He's not the same person. We're always fighting, and he's always saying the most hurtful, disrespectful things to me."

Truthfully, Hongjoong never liked your husband. He always thought Jaeyoon seemed too short-tempered and controlling. However, you seemed to be happy initially, or at least that's what you showed the outside world, so Hongjoong never commented on it, especially since it wasn't his place to do so. But he did hint at it once or twice. Once your parents got involved, he knew what the outcome would be, and he only hoped you would fight back and make the right decision.

"Have you considered couple's therapy?" Hongjoong asked.

"I did, and I brought it up to him. He got extremely upset, said there's nothing wrong with him, that I'm the problem and I need therapy, and I should be grateful that he even chose to marry me."

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. "That stuck up asshole. He thinks quite highly of himself."

The rest of the conversation with Hongjoong is brief but comforting. He listens to your concerns without any judgment, his voice steady and reassuring while he gives his legal input.

“Divorce isn't my area of specialty, you know that. But my friend, a fellow attorney in my firm, Choi San, is one of the greatest attorneys I've ever seen. He’s worked on many cases similar to yours and has a great record,” Hongjoong says, “He’ll make sure you’re taken care of, Y/N. You have nothing to worry about.”

But worry is exactly what you feel. Not about the process, but about what comes after. The unknown stretches before you, vast and intimidating. Still, you’ve made your choice. And for the first time in a long while, you feel like you’re the one in control.

The next day, you find yourself walking into Hongjoong’s law firm, a sleek, modern building with glass walls and minimalist decor. The receptionist greets you with a warm smile, and soon you’re being escorted to a private conference room. You wished Hongjoong was here, but he was in an important meeting with one of his clients.

As you wait, blankly staring at a painting in the room, your mind races with questions. What will San be like? Will he understand the complexity of your situation, the nuances that come with being in a marriage like yours? What if he's an old man who thinks people should push through a dead marriage like your parents? It was so common for society to frown upon a divorced woman.

The door opens, and your thoughts scatter as a man steps inside. Is this an attorney or a model?

He’s quite tall, broad shoulders, siren eyes, dressed sharply in a black tailored suit, with an air of confidence that is immediately reassuring.

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you’re struck by the calm intensity in them. There’s a softness there, too, something that puts you at ease despite the circumstances.

But God, is he the most stunning man you've ever seen.

“Mrs. Baek,” he says, extending a hand. His voice is smooth, professional, but there’s a warmth in his tone that surprises you. “I’m Attorney Choi San, but please call me San. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You shake his hand, feeling the strength in his grip. “Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice, San. Please, call me Y/N, I'm trying to get rid of the 'Mrs. Baek' title," you joke, though it was true.

San chuckles and nods. “Of course, Y/N. Hongjoong spoke very highly of you.” He gestures to the chair across from you, and you both sit down.

"I understand you’re looking to proceed with a divorce," he says, taking a laptop out of his bag and setting in on the table before opening it. "Don't mind me, I just need to take notes of what you say so I can better understand how I can help you."

You nod, the words feeling heavy in your throat. “Yes. I… I want to make sure everything is handled properly. There’s a lot at stake, and I can’t afford any mistakes.”

San gives you a reassuring smile, and you notice he has dimples. You couldn't help but think that he was extremely charming. "Don't worry, Y/N. You're in safe hands," he says, "Now, how about you start by telling me about your marriage and what prompted you to seek divorce?"

You take a deep breath and look at him directly. “I never wanted to get married so early in the relationship. It wasn’t about love—it was about business, aligning our families. And I… I tried, but Jaeyoon… he’s not the man I thought he was. We dated for a couple of months, and he was genuinely really nice. But soon after we got married, he suddenly doesn’t respect me, and lately, it feels like he’s more interested in controlling me than being my partner.” San listens intently as you explained your situation. The more you talk, the more you notice the way he focuses on you, his attention unwavering even while he's typing on his laptop.

San nods when you finish speaking, his expression serious but understanding. “It sounds like you’ve been carrying this weight for a long time.”

“I have,” you admit, your voice softer. “I’ve always put my family and my company first, but I can’t keep doing that at the expense of my own happiness and mental peace. I want out, but I don’t want this to become a spectacle. My family… they’ll try to push back, and Jaeyoon’s family will make things difficult too.”

You continue to tell him more about your life, and he asks the right questions, probing gently but thoroughly, and it becomes clear that he understands the complexities of your life—the family expectations, the business implications, the emotional toll.

San leans forward slightly, his gaze steady on yours. “The first step is to file a petition for divorce. Since both of you are public figures, we can request that the details remain confidential to avoid any unnecessary media attention. We’ll also need to consider how any joint assets will be divided, as well as any potential claims from Jaeyoon regarding spousal support.”

As the meeting progresses, you feel a sense of relief washing over you. San’s approach is meticulous, but there’s also a kindness to him that you hadn’t expected. He’s not just treating this as another case; he’s treating you like a person, like someone who deserves to be heard and supported.

“What kind of timeline are we looking at?” you ask, a hint of anxiety creeping into your voice.

“It depends on a few factors,” San replies, his tone calm and reassuring. “If Jaeyoon agrees to the divorce and we can reach a settlement outside of court, it could be finalized in as little as six months. However, if he contests it, especially regarding asset division or other terms, it could take longer—potentially a year or more.” You frown, the thought of this dragging on for so long unsettling.

“And if it does go to court?”

“If it goes to court, we’ll be prepared,” San assures you with confidence. “I’ll work to ensure that your interests are protected. That means gathering all the necessary financial documents, assessing the value of shared assets, and if needed, preparing for depositions and hearings. I’ll handle the legal strategy, but I’ll also make sure you’re fully informed every step of the way.”

“What about my company? Saturn & Co. is my life’s work. I can’t afford for it to be affected by this.”

San’s expression softens slightly as he considers your concern. “We’ll make protecting your company a priority. Given that Saturn & Co. was established long before your marriage, we’ll argue that it should remain entirely under your control. But we’ll need to be thorough in documenting that your company assets and finances are distinct from any shared marital property.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Thank you, San. This is all so overwhelming.”

He gives you a small, encouraging smile. “That’s what I’m here for, Y/N. I’ll guide you through this process, and we’ll take it one step at a time. You’re not alone in this.”

By the time you leave the law firm, you’re still apprehensive about the future, but for the first time, you feel like you’re not facing it alone. And as you think back to the way San’s eyes softened when you spoke, you realize that maybe, just maybe, this won’t be as lonely as you feared.

2 months later

The familiar scent of Jaeyoon’s cologne hits you as soon as you step into the penthouse and hang your coat in the closet after a long day at work. The air is thick with tension, and you can feel the weight of the divorce papers in your bag like a lead anchor.

You mentally thanked San for being so quick to give you the documents. Since you had no kids with Jaeyoon, and your pre-nup was very straightforward about how any joint assets should be divided, San said your case wasn't very complicated.

In the 2 months of working with San, you have grown to take a liking towards him. He was kind and gentle towards you, and he always gave you his full attention when you spoke. When you went to Hongjoong's birthday party a month ago, you were delighted to see San there as well; that's when you got to know him in a non-professional way, and you genuinely thought he was the sweetest, most understanding man you had ever met.

Now, standing in your penthouse with the divorce papers in hand, you felt extremely anxious. You had rehearsed this moment countless times in your mind, but now that you’re here, every word you planned feels inadequate.

Jaeyoon is seated in the living room, scrolling through his phone, but he looks up as you enter. There’s an expectant look on his face, like he knows something’s coming. He's certainly no stranger to the way you’ve been acting these past two months, and he was often very angry when you refused to be intimate with him.

You steel yourself, trying to gather the courage you need. “Jaeyoon... We need to talk,” you say, your voice steady, though your heart is racing.

His brow furrows as he puts down his phone. “What’s this about, honey?” he asks, and you mentally cringe at the pet name.

You reach into your Dior tote bag and pull out the divorce papers, holding them out to him. For a moment, Jaeyoon just stares at them, as if he doesn’t understand. But then, slowly, he takes them from your hand.

He skims through the content of the top page. “What the hell is this?” His voice is low, almost calm, but you can hear the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“It’s what I should have done a long time ago,” you reply, trying to keep your voice from shaking. “I want a divorce, Jaeyoon. This marriage… it isn’t working.”

He flips through the papers, his expression darkening with each passing second. “You can’t be serious,” he finally says, his voice rising. “Do you have any idea what this will do? To us? To our families? To the business?”

“I’ve thought about it,” you say, standing your ground. “This is the only way forward for me. I can’t live like this anymore.”

Jaeyoon’s face twists with rage. “You ungrateful fucking—” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he slams the papers onto the coffee table, the sound echoing in the quiet room. “After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me?”

“You didn’t do anything for me, Jaeyoon,” you say, your voice breaking. “You did it for yourself. For control. I’m not your possession. I tried to fix this marriage for months, but you refused to make any attempts to realize how horribly you’ve been treating me.”

Before you can react, he’s on his feet, his hand striking you across the face with a force that sends you reeling. The sting is sharp, but the shock is even sharper. You stumble back, your hand instinctively reaching for your cheek.

“Jaeyoon!” you cry out, but he’s already moving.

"I'll fucking kill you!" His eyes are wild, fury taking over as he grabs a nearby vase and hurls it at you. You barely have time to duck, and the vase smashes into the wall behind you, hitting your shoulder in the process before shattering into pieces on the floor. A sharp pain shoots through your shoulder, but you force yourself to stay on your feet.

Your breath comes in short, panicked gasps as you stare at the broken remains of the vase, the reality of what just happened crashing down on you. This is no longer just about a failed marriage—this is about your safety, your life.

Without another word, you turn and run out of the penthouse, the door slamming behind you. You don’t stop until you’re in the elevator hastily pressing the button for the parking garage, your body shaking uncontrollably. You were glad your bag was still with you and had all the stuff you needed— your phone, wallet, and keys.

As soon as you reach the parking garage, you make your way to your car. You unlock it with your keys and quickly lock yourself in. You realized you ran out in your house slippers when it's freezing outside, but that was the least of your concerns right now.

You needed to get out of here.

You switched your car engine on and put your seat belt on, ignoring the pain in your shoulder. Tears blur your vision as you fumble for your phone, and before you know it, you’ve dialed San’s number. While his phone rang, you moved the gear selector in your car to drive, and you wasted no time in pressing on the accelerator, leaving the garage and the gates of the apartment building.

Your phone was connected to your car, and San's soft voice was heard. "Hello?"

"San…" Your voice is barely a whisper, choked with sobs. "Sannie, I..."

“Y/N? What happened?” His voice is immediately alert, concerned. The sound of your car's indicator alerted him further. “Where are you? Are you in a car?”

“I… I’m driving. I can’t… I don’t know what to do…” Your words tumble out in a rush, your mind spinning.

"Y/N, tell me where you are. It's not safe for you to drive under strong emotion. Please pull over, I'll come get you."

"He... he hit me," you cried, ignoring San's words. "I left... I'm driving and I don't... I don't know where I'm going, but—"

"Sweetheart, please," San begs, and the sudden nickname makes your heart burst, and you find yourself calming down a bit. "Please pull over. It's not safe. Please."

And you finally listen to him. "Okay," you murmur, taking a deep breath. You make a turn into what seems to be the parking lot of a hospital. You parked in the first slot you could find. "I... I stopped."

"Okay, what do you see around you?" San asks, and you can hear some muffling in his background.

"A hospital," you say, glancing around from your car for the name of it. "Geumgang Asan hospital."

San lets out a breath in relief. "You're actually right by my apartment," he says, and you hear a door close in his background.

"Which apartment?" You ask, voice still shaky.

"Raemian Caelitus," he answers, "Stay right there. I’m coming to get you. Don’t move, okay? I’ll be there in a few minutes. Which car are you in?"

You don't respond to San. Instead, you put your car in drive and head for his apartment complex, doing the complete opposite of what he told you to do.

"Y/N?"

"I'm almost there," you say to him.

San groans. "Y/N... It's—"

"I know, I know," you chuckle, "but it takes less than two minutes by car. Besides, I'm already here." You pull up to the apartment gates, rolling your window down to speak to the security. He took down your name and number before opening the gates for you.

You drove to the guest parking lot and parked there, waiting for San to get to you. You slump against the car seat, your tears falling freely now. The numbness starts to set in, and you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to hold the pieces of yourself together.

It feels like an eternity, but in reality, it’s only a minute or two before there's a knock on your car window. You grab your bag and keys, getting out of your car. The cold night air feels chilly against your tear-streaked face. You’re still trembling; the shock of what happened earlier was refusing to release its grip on you.

San doesn’t say a word—he just pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he could shield you from everything that just happened.

You break down completely, sobbing into his chest, and he just holds you, his hand gently stroking your hair. “It’s okay,” he murmurs softly. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

When you started shivering, San noticed that you weren't wearing a coat, and your feet were only covered with your house slippers. He immediately takes his coat off and wraps it around you before picking you up bridal-style, wasting no time in making his way back to his apartment.

Once you reach the warmth of San's apartment, he sets you down on his couch. His actions made you sob more as you were touched by the way he treated you. He continued to hold you in his arms, trying to control the anger he felt at seeing the faint handprint mark on your cheek.

After a while, when your sobs start to quiet, San gently tilts your chin up to look at him. His eyes are filled with worry, but there’s also a fierce determination there. “We’re going to make sure he never hurts you again,” he says firmly.

You nod, unable to find the words, but the way San looks at you—so protective, so caring—gives you some strength. You feel like you’re moving toward something better, something that’s just for you.

The two of you sit in silence for a while. You tried to gather your thoughts, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions.

Eventually, he speaks, his voice gentle but serious. "Y/N... do you want to talk about it?"

You take a deep breath. "I gave him the divorce papers... he didn't take it well. Everything happened so fast. He slapped me, and then he threw a vase at me."

He cupped your face with one hand, gently stroking your cheek, a look of worry in his eyes. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

You knew your shoulder was definitely bruised, and you could still feel the dull ache. But you didn't want to tell San that.

"No... I'm okay," you lied. "Jaeyoon said he would kill me when he threw the vase. I left right after that." You noticed the way San's jaw clenched.

“Y/N, what that dickhead did tonight is beyond unacceptable. We need to take steps to make sure you’re safe. I think we should file for a restraining order against him.”

You glance at him, fear creeping back into your mind. “But… there’s no proof. It’s just my word against his.”

San nods, understanding the concern. “I know it feels like an uphill battle, but your testimony is important. The court can issue a restraining order if it believes there’s a credible threat, even without physical evidence. Your account of what happened, combined with the details of your marriage and the pattern of controlling behavior, can be enough to convince the judge.”

You hesitate, the thought of facing Jaeyoon in court, of reliving the nightmare, filling you with dread. “What if they don’t believe me? What if… what if this makes everything worse?”

San reaches over, gently squeezing your hand. “I’ll be with you every step of the way, Y/N. Not just as your lawyer, but as someone you can trust, someone you can count on," he says, and you felt butterflies in your stomach. "We’ll present your case as clearly and thoroughly as possible. We can also gather any supporting evidence like records of past arguments, any messages or emails that show his controlling behavior. Even if we don’t have a video or physical proof, your word carries weight, Y/N.”

His reassurance steadies you somewhat, and you nod slowly, deep in thought while blankly staring at the numerous law books on his bookshelf.

And then it hit you.

Video proof.

You turn to San with a hopeful look in your eyes. "I just realized, we have cameras in the living room. And this whole thing happened there, too. The footage should be on the app on my phone."

San's eyes widened, and a huge smile spread across his face. "This is perfect, Y/N! This would be more than enough to get the restraining order, as well as settle the divorce without having to go to court. Once we show him that we have evidence of his violence, there's no way he would fight back cause the court will most likely rule in your favor!"

You reach for your phone and unlock it, immediately opening the app. The footage gets saved in 30-minute intervals, and you were glad to see that it was still there and Jaeyoon had not deleted it yet. You downloaded the footage to have a copy of it on your phone. San requested that you send the footage to him as well so he could adjust the documents he wrote accordingly.

"Thank you, San," you say with a smile. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

He only smiled and stroked the back of your head. "Did you have dinner?" he asks, and you nod.

"Mhmm, I ate at work."

His face grew slightly serious when he noticed it was one hour to midnight. "Y/N, do you... want to stay the night here? I have a guest room. But if you're uncomfortable and you prefer a hotel or somewhere else, I can drive you. Whatever's most comfortable for you."

"I want to be here with you," you say in a soft tone, your words sending San's heart into a frenzy.

He nods and gets up. "Make yourself at home. Let me prepare the guest room a little bit first, okay? If you want to drink or eat something, the kitchen is all yours."

"Thanks, Sannie."

While San was busy setting up the guest room, you looked around the living room of his apartment. The decor was so simple and beautiful, and you noticed many pieces of furniture were actually made by your company. You loved how clean his apartment was, not even a pillow out of place. You noticed he had a giant boba tea plushie in the corner of the room, and you couldn't help but think San was so adorable.

"It's ready," he says, and you enter the guest room. You noticed there was a hoodie and a t-shirt neatly folded on the bed. San noticed you glancing at it. "I realized you don't have any clothes to sleep in. I didn't know if you preferred warm clothes or something more airy, so I got both. In the bathroom, there's a pack of spare toothbrushes in the cabinet. If you want to take a shower, I kept a smaller bathrobe for you and a towel."

You hug him tightly. "Seriously, thank you, Sannie."

"You don't have to thank me, Y/N," he murmurs, "Get some rest, hmm? I'll be in my room if you need me."

He turns to leave, but you grab his arm. "Wait..." you hesitate, "I... um..."

"Hmm?"

"Can you... can you perhaps... stay here with me, please?" You ask in a quiet tone, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"Oh, um, I can if you want me to," he answers, his own cheeks turning pink. "Let me get ready for bed first, and then I'll join you, okay?"

You nod and he leaves the room to give you some privacy. You head into the bathroom to change out of your clothes and take a quick shower. You brushed your teeth and put some lip balm on. You chose to wear his t-shirt, which served as an oversized t-shirt for you. Taking a whiff of the t-shirt, you lightly hummed in delight, his scent of him making you feel some type of way.

When you exited the bathroom, San was already under the covers of the bed. He shyly pats the space beside him, and you slid under the covers with him.

San kept a bit of distance from you to not make you feel uncomfortable. You really appreciated that, but you wanted him to be closer.

Knowing the gentleman San is, you knew you had to speak up first.

"Can you... come closer?" You squeak out, slightly embarrassed. San chuckles and does as you say.

"Anything else?" he teases. You turn on your side so you're facing him, and the faint light from the nightlamp makes his skin glow somehow. San was so beautiful inside out. You were utterly mesmerized by him.

"Closer," you whisper. San moved closer to you, his head now on your pillow. You could feel his breath on your face and the warmth radiating from his body.

"Closer," you say again, looking between his eyes and his plump lips that were slightly parted. You reached for his arm and put it over your waist.

San understood what you wanted, but he restrained himself from giving in. "Y/N... what are you doing?" he murmurs, his hand placed softly on your back. His eyes were staring intensely into yours as if to see if you felt the same way as him in this moment.

"I want you to kiss me," you say, voice barely above a whisper.

San gulps, unsure of what to do. He wanted to kiss you, but he wasn't sure if you were really in the best mental state for that after what happened just a few hours ago.

You look at him, an expectant look on your face. You wouldn't have asked him to kiss you if you weren't confident that he felt something for you. You were not ignorant to the way he looked at you, the way he spoke to you, the way his eyes subtly roamed your body when you were in his office, the way he took a sharp inhale of your scent in a crowded elevator... but then you started to overthink.

What if he didn't want to kiss you?

What if all those signs weren't as deep as you think they are?

"I'm sorry," you say to him, and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. "I didn't realize I was being too straightforward with this, and I understand if you don't want to kiss me. I should have—"

San placed his lips on you, shutting you up instantly. "There's nothing I want more than to kiss you," he mumbles against your lips, pulling you closer to him. "I just... don't want to put any pressure on you when you're in a vulnerable state."

You smiled against his lips, feeling touched by how considerate San was towards you.

And then you kissed him. His lips were so soft and warm while it molded with yours, and you couldn't help but feel relaxed while he kissed you back in such a soft manner, as if you were extremely delicate. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him even closer, a small whimper leaving his lips when he feels your body flush against his.

You pull away first to catch your breath. You watch as San's eyes slowly open to look at you. There was a kind look in his eyes, one that screamed of adoration.

San lets out a little giggle when it hits him that the two of you really just kissed. He kisses your forehead and holds you in his arms while he tells you all the little things you did that made his heart flutter.

Eventually, sleep finds its way to both of you, the night ending in a warm embrace.

Two days later, you and San head to the courthouse, where he helps you file for the restraining order. The process is grueling, forcing you to recount the events of the night two days before, but San is there with you, guiding you through every step. His presence is a lifeline, his calm professionalism giving you the strength to face what lies ahead.

When the judge finally reviews your petition, you feel a knot in your stomach. But as San presents your case, emphasizing the danger you’re in and the need for protection, you see the judge’s expression soften.

After what feels like an eternity, the judge grants the temporary restraining order. It’s not permanent yet—there will need to be a hearing for that—but it’s a critical first step. For now, Jaeyoon is legally required to stay away from you, and any violation of that order could lead to serious consequences for him.

When you leave the courthouse, you feel a mixture of relief and lingering anxiety. But you also feel a small spark of hope—hope that, with San’s help, you might finally be able to take control of your life again.

You and San part ways to head to your respective workplaces, but he promises to see you after.

When you reach your office building, you're surprised to find your secretary waiting outside the doors of your office.

"Ms. Y/N," she starts, "Your parents are here, inside your office. I told them to wait outside, but they refused. They seemed to have found out about..."

You nod at her. "That's okay, Yena. Thanks for the heads up."

"You have a meeting in about ten minutes with the design team for the summer patio collection. I can postpone the meeting for you if you'd like."

"That won't be necessary," you say, "I'll be done in five minutes, hopefully. My parents... I know what to expect from them." Yena nods and wishes you luck.

You enter your office, shutting the doors behind you. You aren't surprised to see the rage on your parents face.

"Filing for divorce behind my back and getting a restraining order against your husband? What are you thinking?" Your mother says, a look of disappointment clear on her face.

You sigh. "Tell me, mom and dad, had I told you about it beforehand, would you have let me?" You say in a calm tone. "And that man is not my husband anymore."

"Y/N, you can not get a divorce. I forbid it," your father says in a strong tone. "You will bring utter shame to our family. I will not hesitate to take your name off my will."

You chuckle. "I don't care about your money, dad. I have my own company that I built on my own," you say, crossing your arms over your chest. "I will not live with a man that treats me like I'm inferior to him, a man that hits me and throws stuff at me."

"Jaeyoon was angry," your mother defends. "You betrayed him. He had every right to—"

"Every right to abuse me? Do you hear yourself right now?" you gave her an incredulous look. "Is your daughter's happiness and safety not more important to you than your image and connections?" You turn to look at your father. "You said I'll bring utter shame to our family, but tell me how? I'm not the one who abused him and treated him like shit for months!"

"Enough, Y/N!" your father raises his voice. "You will do as I say. You better withdraw your case. I will talk to your lawyer. I don't want to hear you talk of divorce again. I better see you in the penthouse tonight."

"My apologies, father, but I'm done listening to you," you firmly stand your ground.

"Don't make me disown you, Y/N. You married into a very good family, someone who matches your background and status in society."

"By all means, please do," you say with a scoff. "I'm not making sacrifices for your sake anymore. I have a meeting to attend, so please leave."

You turn away from your parents and walk to your desk. You sit down on your chair, and face away from your parents.

"You're an ungrateful brat," your mother spits before walking out of your office, your father grumpily following behind.

You let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding as you slump down in your chair.

You loved your parents deeply, but you wished for once they would not care about money, power, and status, and start caring about the well-being of their child.

San sits at his desk, meticulously reviewing a file when the door to his office opens. He looks up to see your father standing in the doorway, his eyes hard and calculating. There’s no polite knock, no greeting—just an imposing presence.

San got up from his seat and bowed politely. “Mr. L/N, I wasn’t expecting you. What can I help you with today?”

Your father steps into the office, the door closing behind him with a quiet click. He doesn’t sit down, instead choosing to stand, towering over San’s desk.

"I came to discuss my daughter's case. This whole divorce nonsense. It’s a mistake, and it needs to be stopped," your father explains. His voice is firm, commanding.

San doesn’t flinch, meeting his gaze calmly while he took his seat. “With all due respect, Mr. L/N, that’s not something I can do. I represent your daughter’s best interests, and she’s made it clear she wants to proceed with the divorce.”

Your father narrows his eyes, leaning forward slightly, the temperature in the room seemingly dropping. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me, Mr. Choi. I said the divorce needs to be stopped. I’m here to make sure it doesn’t go any further.”

San remains seated, unbothered by the thinly veiled threat in the older man’s voice. He folds his hands on the desk, his expression composed. “Your daughter has the right to make her own choices, Mr. L/N. I’m here to ensure that her voice is heard and her rights are protected. I’m afraid I won’t be withdrawing from the case.”

The older man’s lips curl into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He takes a step back and places a briefcase on San’s desk. With a casual flick of his wrist, he opens it, revealing stacks of neatly arranged cash.

“125 million won. More than enough to make it worth your while to reconsider.”

San’s eyes briefly flicker to the briefcase before returning to the man in front of him. His expression doesn’t change. He slowly rises from his chair, closing the briefcase with a firm click.

“I’m not interested in your money, Mr. L/N. My commitment is to my client, your daughter, not to the highest bidder,” San says in a steady tone.

Your father’s eyes darken. He straightens, crossing his arms over his chest. “You might want to reconsider, Mr. Choi. You know who I am. I have powerful connections, and it wouldn’t take much to have you fired. You’re nothing more than an associate at this firm. Hongjoong and I go way back. One call from me, and you’ll be out of a job.”

San’s jaw tightens, but he keeps his cool. He steps around the desk, standing toe to toe with your father. “You’re free to make that call, Mr. L/N. But I’ll tell you right now that it won’t change anything. My integrity and my client’s well-being come first. I won’t be bullied into backing down.”

For a moment, the two men stand in silence, the tension thick between them. Then your father lets out a low chuckle, though it’s devoid of warmth. “You’re a fool, Mr. Choi. But I’ll leave you with this warning. Cross me, and you’ll regret it. You’ll wish you’d taken the money.”

The door shuts behind him with a heavy thud. San stands in the now-silent office, his eyes lingering on the closed door for a moment. He exhales slowly, tension easing from his shoulders as he returns to his desk.

San’s thoughts drift briefly to you and the storm that might be heading your way. But he steels himself, ready for whatever comes next. His loyalty to you and his belief in doing what’s right will not be shaken. Besides, he had enough trust in Hongjoong to know his friend would never listen to your father either.

Hongjoong sits at his desk, engrossed in reviewing a case, when the door to his office swings open with a heavy push. He looks up to see your father striding in without so much as a knock. His face is a mask of anger, but there’s something more—disappointment, perhaps, or even hurt.

Hongjoong straightens up immediately, his surprise giving way to a faint smile of recognition. “Uncle, I wasn’t expecting you to stop by.”

Your father's jaw tightens at the familiar greeting, and he waves off the formality with a sharp motion. He stands in the middle of the room, eyes piercing as he regards Hongjoong with a mixture of affection and frustration.

Your father starts, “Hongjoong, what is this mess with Y/N?”

Hongjoong sighs inwardly but keeps his composure. He gestures to the chair across from his desk. “Please, sit down. Let’s talk.”

Your father shakes his head. “I’m not here to chat. I’m here because of this nonsense with your associate, Choi San. You’re letting him destroy my family. You’ve known Y/N since she was born, Joong. How can you allow this to happen?”

The use of his childhood name stirs something in Hongjoong—a reminder that this man was more than just a powerful businessman. He had watched Hongjoong grow up, had been at family dinners, birthdays, celebrations. But Hongjoong keeps his professional mask on, aware that this conversation would require careful navigation.

Hongjoong softly says, “Uncle, you know I care about Y/N. I’ve always looked out for her, and I’m doing that now.”

“By letting her divorce her husband? By letting her throw away everything we’ve built? This will ruin her—and us!” your father says, his voice rising.

Hongjoong’s face hardens slightly. He motions again to the chair. “Please, Uncle. Let’s sit down and talk about this.”

Reluctantly, your father takes the offered seat, but not without a huff of frustration. He looks at Hongjoong, his gaze heavy with expectation. “You need to fire that attorney of yours. He’s putting ideas in Y/N’s head—encouraging her to throw away a good marriage. You can’t let this happen.”

Hongjoong takes a deep breath, knowing this was coming. His voice remains calm, though his loyalty to both San and you runs deep. “I won’t do that, Uncle. San is a brilliant attorney and one of my closest friends. More than that, he’s doing exactly what Y/N needs. He’s protecting her.”

Your father leans forward, his tone sharp, “Protecting her? From what? Jaeyoon’s a good man. He’s just been under stress! Y/N’s exaggerating the situation.”

Hongjoong’s eyes narrow slightly, a rare flash of anger crossing his usually composed face. “This isn’t an exaggeration, Uncle. Jaeyoon’s hurt her—physically, emotionally. I’ve seen the bruises myself from when he threw a vase at her. And he’s threatened her life too.”

Your father’s expression falters for just a moment, but he quickly covers it with a shake of his head. “Y/N’s always been dramatic. She’s too sensitive. Jaeyoon would never do that.”

“This isn’t drama, Uncle. This is abuse. You’ve known me my entire life, so you know I wouldn’t say this lightly. If you don’t believe me, ask Y/N yourself. Or better yet, spend one minute in a room with her and see the fear in her eyes.”

There’s a long pause as your father processes Hongjoong’s words. He looks down, his hands clenched tightly in his lap. For the first time, doubt flickers across his face, but his pride keeps him from showing it openly. “She’s my daughter, Hongjoong. I’m doing what’s best for her.”

Hongjoong softens slightly, his tone more compassionate, “I know you love her, Uncle. But what’s best for her isn’t keeping her in a marriage that’s tearing her apart. You want to protect her? Then let her go. Let her break free from Jaeyoon and start fresh. She deserves that much.”

The room falls silent again. Your father looks away, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation has taken. He’s used to being in control, used to getting his way, and now he’s faced with a situation that no amount of power or money can fix.

“I don’t like this, Hongjoong. Not one bit,” your father says in a quiet tone.

Hongjoong nods. “I understand. But forcing her to stay will only make things worse.”

Your father finally looks up, his voice filled with resignation, “I’ll think about what you’ve said. But don’t think I’ll just sit by and let this happen.”

Hongjoong watches as the older man slowly rises from the chair, his movements less confident than when he first entered the room. As he walks to the door, he hesitates, turning back to look at Hongjoong with a mixture of frustration and something almost like vulnerability. “You’ve grown up well, Hongjoong. I’ve always been proud of you. But I hope you’re not making a mistake.”

“Thank you, Uncle. But I believe in what I’m doing. I believe in protecting Y/N.”

With a final nod, your father turns and leaves the office, the door closing quietly behind him. Hongjoong sits back down at his desk, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air. He exhales slowly, his thoughts turning to you, hoping that your father will see reason before it’s too late.

3 weeks later

You sit at the head of the long glass table, eyes focused as one of your top designers presents the new luxury patio collection. The conference room buzzes with the energy of innovation—your team is passionate, and it shows in the careful detailing of the furniture designs displayed on the digital screens along the walls. Teak wood, sleek metal accents, and eco-friendly materials come together in sophisticated harmony.

“We’ve incorporated the latest trends in sustainable materials, aiming to appeal to clients who prioritize both style and environmental responsibility. The durability will be a key selling point for the summer collection,” the chief designer explains.

You nod, your fingers drumming lightly on the surface of your notebook. Despite being from a wealthy family, you’ve built Saturn & Co. from the ground up, and you’ve learned to balance creativity with practicality. Your mind is already analyzing the numbers—thinking about production costs, price points, and the narrative you want to craft around this collection.

“I like the direction, but we need to ensure the pricing reflects the exclusivity. This is a luxury line, and our clientele expects something unique. Let’s look at limited editions to build that exclusivity,” you voice your opinion.

Your team exchanges glances, taking notes as you speak. You look at the marketing head next. “We need to start the marketing campaign as soon as possible. I want a narrative that ties back to our brand’s legacy, something that shows we’re not just following trends but leading them.”

As you discuss the campaign, the atmosphere in the room is abruptly shattered by the sound of raised voices outside the glass doors. Your brow furrows in confusion as you glance toward the commotion. Before you can react, the doors swing open, and several uniformed officers from the Korean National Police barge into the conference room.

The room goes still, everyone frozen in place.

The officer in charge looks directly at you. “Ms. L/N, you are under arrest for illegal possession and distribution of narcotics. Please stand and come with us.”

You feel the words hit you like a physical blow. The room spins for a moment, and your breath catches in your throat. You blink, trying to comprehend what’s happening. Your colleagues stare at you in shocked silence, their faces a mixture of confusion and concern.

“There must be a mistake,” you say, absolutely stunned at the accusation. Your voice feels distant, barely your own. The officer takes a step closer, his expression hard and unyielding. Two other officers flank you, moving into position as if expecting resistance.

“We have a warrant for your arrest. You have the right to remain silent.”

Everything feels surreal, as though you’ve been dropped into someone else’s life. This can’t be happening. You’ve never been involved with drugs—this is absurd. You shake your head, your voice stronger now. “I’m innocent. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

The officers ignore your protests as they take you by the arms, pulling you to your feet. You glance around the table, your team frozen in disbelief. Your head of security moves toward you but is stopped by the officers, who block his path.

As you’re led out of the conference room, your heart pounds in your chest. Fear mixes with disbelief, but you force yourself to stay calm. You don’t know how this happened, but you’re determined to fight it.

The walk through the Saturn & Co. building feels endless. Employees stop in their tracks, staring as you pass by, whispers rising in your wake. Your cheeks burn with the humiliation of it all, but you lift your chin and keep your expression calm, refusing to show any weakness.

Outside the building, a crowd has already gathered, cameras flashing in your face. You can barely hear the shouting reporters over the thrum of your own thoughts. As you’re escorted into the waiting police car, you can’t help but wonder—who could have done this? And why?

Your first thought was your ex-husband. Well, you still weren't legally divorced yet. But you had a gut feeling that it was him.

The door slams shut behind you, and as the car pulls away from the building, the reality of the situation begins to sink in. Your life is about to be turned upside down, and you know exactly who you need to call: San. He’ll help you. He has to. Right?

Its been a while since you saw San as he was busy handling back-to-back cases and traveling to meet clients and witnesses. You also bought a new apartment and were busy moving and unpacking your stuff, so you didn't have much time to meet up with him either.

Once you reached the station, you were thrown into an interrogation room. The cold, sterile room is a stark contrast to the familiar warmth of your office. The walls are bare, the fluorescent lights overhead casting a harsh, clinical glow. You sit at a metal table, your hands resting in front of you. Despite the fear bubbling up inside you, you keep your back straight, refusing to show the panic you feel beneath the surface.

You’ve been here for hours now. The officers had taken your personal belongings, leaving you feeling exposed and disconnected from the outside world. The initial booking process was a blur of fingerprinting, photographs, and paperwork. Now, it’s just you and the suffocating silence of the interrogation room.

The door creaks open, and two officers step inside. One of them, a senior detective, takes the seat across from you while the other leans against the wall, arms crossed. You can feel their eyes on you, studying your every move, waiting for any sign of weakness.

“Mrs. Baek... or should I say, Ms. L/N? The public may not know everything, but we certainly do. Now, do you know why you’re here?”

You look at him, your heartbeat thudding in your ears. You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m innocent. I don’t know why I’ve been brought here. This has to be a mistake.”

The detective leans back in his chair, pulling out a manila folder and flipping it open. He slides a few photographs across the table toward you. You glance down at them—images of plastic bags filled with pills and powder, some stashed in a high-end handbag that looks disturbingly similar to one you own. “These drugs were found in your possession. We have evidence linking you to a drug-selling operation. Do you care to explain?”

Your stomach drops, and your hands instinctively clench into fists in your lap. You shake your head, staring at the images as though they might change if you blink hard enough.

“That’s not mine. I don’t know how those drugs got there. I’ve never been involved in anything like this. I swear,” you say.

The detective raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your denial. He taps one of the photos with his finger. “This was found in your car, Ms. L/N. Are you telling me someone planted these drugs without your knowledge?”

Your mind races. You remember parking your car that morning—everything was normal. But nothing makes sense now. You feel trapped, caught in a nightmare where you don’t know the rules.

“I don’t know how it got there. I’ve never seen those drugs before in my life, neither do I do drugs. I can do a drug test to prove that.”

The detective exchanges a glance with the other officer, who remains silent but watches you carefully. He leans forward, as if to intimidate you. “Ms. L/N, the evidence is stacked against you. Your fingerprints were found on the packaging of the bag. We were secretly searching for those involved in drug distribution of this very drug, a drug that can only fall in the hands of someone with a lot of money and influence.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your fingerprints? You struggle to breathe evenly, trying to understand how this could be happening. “That’s impossible. I’m not involved in any of this. Someone has set me up.”

The detective doesn’t blink. He looks at you as though you’re a puzzle he’s trying to solve, but you can tell he doesn’t believe you. “This is your chance to come clean, Ms. L/N. The sooner you cooperate, the better this will go for you. Tell us who you’ve been working with, and maybe we can work something out.”

You shake your head, frustration and fear mixing into a potent cocktail in your chest. Your voice rises slightly, despite your efforts to stay calm. “I’m not involved in any drug operation. I don’t know who’s behind this, but it’s not me.”

The detective leans back, his expression hardening. He closes the folder and taps it lightly against the table before standing up. “I’ve heard it all before. You’re looking at serious charges here, Ms. L/N. You might want to think about your next steps carefully.”

As he leaves the room, the door shuts with a heavy click, leaving you alone once again. You drop your head into your hands, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst out of your chest.

How did this happen? Who could possibly want to destroy you like this? The questions whirl through your mind, but there are no answers. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself of what you know to be true. You’ve done nothing wrong. You just need to hold on, stay strong, and prove your innocence.

A knock sounds at the door, and it opens again. This time, it’s a different officer—one who escorts you back to a holding cell. They’ve told you a lawyer is on the way, and that thought alone keeps you from unraveling completely.

You pray that it’s San. He’ll know what to do. He’ll fight for you. But even as you cling to that hope, the uncertainty gnaws at you. You’ve never felt so powerless in your life.

San steps out of the courtroom, the echo of his client’s relieved voice still ringing in his ears. He had just secured another victory—an ironclad defense that left the opposition scrambling. His confidence is high as he buttons his suit jacket, his mind already shifting to the next case on his docket.

Just as he’s about to push through the heavy glass doors of the courthouse, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Glancing down, he sees Hongjoong’s name flashing on the screen. He frowns slightly, knowing Hongjoong was out of the city at the moment, but he swipes to answer.

"Hongjoong hyung," San answers in a cheerful tone, "You’re catching me right after a big win. What’s up?"

There’s a brief pause on the other end, and when Hongjoong speaks, his voice is tight, serious. “San, we’ve got a really fucked up situation. It’s about Y/N.”

San’s heart skips a beat at the mention of your name. His hand tightens around his phone, and the world around him seems to blur for a moment.

“What happened? Is she okay?” San asks, concern evident in his voice.

"No. She’s not. She was arrested earlier today," Hongjoong says grimly. "I just spoke to her father. Her parents aren't going to see her until this mess is sorted out. She has basically no one to support her now other than us."

San stops dead in his tracks, his stomach plummeting. People brush past him in the courthouse lobby, but he’s completely still, his mind racing. “Arrested? For what?”

“Drug possession and distribution. The police found drugs in her car, but it’s clear she’s been framed. It’s all over the news now—photos, headlines, everything. I’m in Gwangju meeting with some clients now as you know, and I can’t get back to Seoul until tomorrow morning. I need you to handle this for me. I thought of representing her myself, but she needs an attorney as soon as possible. Please represent her.”

San’s chest tightens with a mix of disbelief and anger. He can already see how this might play out—the media will have a field day, and your reputation will be dragged through the mud. “Of course, I’ll handle it. I’ll go to the station right away.”

There’s another pause, this time longer. San can almost hear Hongjoong’s hesitation through the phone. “I trust you with this, San. I know you’ll fight for her like I would… maybe more.”

San’s breath catches. He stares at the floor for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. “What are you getting at, hyung?”

Hongjoong’s tone shifts, a little lighter despite the gravity of the situation. “I know how you feel about her, she's like a sister to me. I’ve known for a while now, Sannie. You care about her, and not just as her attorney.”

San’s mind reels. He’s always kept his feelings for you carefully hidden, even from Hongjoong. But it’s clear now that his friend has seen through him “It’s not something I planned, hyung.”

"I didn’t say you did," he says gently, "but maybe this is a chance to show her how much you care. Not as an attorney, but as someone who’s willing to stand by her through the worst of it."

San runs a hand through his hair, conflicted. His stronger feelings for you have always lingered just beneath the surface, a quiet undercurrent to the professional relationship you’ve shared during your divorce proceedings. But now, as you’re facing this crisis, he knows those feelings are about to come to the forefront, whether he’s ready or not.

It's not like you don't know of his feelings after sharing a steamy kiss on his bed. You just didn't know that his feelings for you were stronger than what he showed.

“Right now, I’m her attorney. That’s what matters. I’ll get her out of this mess first,” San says in a firm tone.

Hongjoong chuckles softly, “You’re a good man, San. I’m glad she has you in her corner. I’ll be back tomorrow to help however I can, but for now, please take care of her. And be careful—the media’s already circling like vultures.”

San nods, even though Hongjoong can’t see him. His mind is already spinning with what needs to be done: pulling strings, calling in favors, and working to get you released as soon as possible. But beneath all that, a deeper urgency thrums inside him—an overwhelming need to protect you, to be there for you, not just as an attorney but as someone who deeply cares about you.

“Don’t worry, Hongjoong hyung. I won’t let her down.”

Hongjoong hums. “I know you won’t. Keep me updated, and I’ll be there first thing tomorrow.”

The call ends, and San slips his phone back into his pocket. He stands there for a moment, staring blankly at the glass doors in front of him. His pulse quickens, and he shakes off the lingering shock. You need him now more than ever, and there’s no time to waste.

He steps outside into the late afternoon sun, his mind already focused on his next move. As much as this case will test him professionally, San knows it will also test him personally. And for you, he’s willing to face whatever comes next.

With determination in his step, San gets into his car, heading straight for the police station. There’s no way he’ll let you go through this alone.

You sit on a hard bench in the holding area, your hands clasped tightly together, the events of the last few hours playing over and over in your mind like a bad dream. You still can’t wrap your head around it. Arrested. Framed. And now, sitting here, waiting for something—anything—that will prove your innocence.

The door to the holding area swings open, and you look up instinctively, hope sparking in your chest.

And then you see him— Choi San.

His maroon suit jacket is slightly wrinkled from his hurried movements, his face a mix of worry and determination as he strides toward you.

For a moment, you can’t move, your breath catching in your throat. Relief floods through you as he approaches, his eyes softening as they meet yours.

San frowns, yet his expression was gentle. “Y/N…”

He kneels down in front of you, his presence grounding you in this moment, even though your world feels like it’s spinning out of control. His voice is low, calm, and it soothes the chaotic mess of your thoughts.

"San… I didn’t do this. I swear," you say in a trembling voice. "I don’t know how—"

He holds up a hand, his expression steady and resolute. “I know. I believe you, sweetheart.”

The simple statement, spoken with such certainty, nearly undoes you. You’ve been holding yourself together, refusing to cry, refusing to break—but the sheer relief of having someone believe you shakes you to your core. You take a deep breath, blinking back the tears that have been threatening to spill over.

“I don’t understand how this happened. Who would do this to me?” you mumble.

San glances around the room, ensuring no one else is too close, before leaning in slightly, his voice quieter but still firm. “That’s what we’re going to find out. But first, I’m getting you out of here. I’ve already spoken with the officers. There’s not enough evidence to support holding you overnight. You’ll be out soon, and we’ll start working on clearing your name.”

His confidence eases the tight knot of fear that has been sitting in your chest since the moment you were arrested. You nod slowly, feeling a flicker of hope. San has always been calm under pressure, and now, in the face of this disaster, his calm feels like a lifeline.

“Thank you, San. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

San smiles a little, his eyes never leaving yours. For a moment, something unreadable flickers in his gaze—something deeper than just professional obligation. He stands, offering you his hand to help you up. “You don’t have to go through this alone, Y/N. I’ll be by your side every step of the way.”

You take his hand, letting him pull you up from the bench. For a moment, you just stand there, the weight of the day pressing down on you, but San’s hand in yours keeps you steady.

Just as he promised, within the next hour, he navigates the process with the officers, and the paperwork is completed. You’re released, but the gravity of the situation still hangs over you like a storm cloud.

As you step out into the cold evening air, San walks beside you, his hand hovering near your back, a silent but steady presence. The flashing lights of a few reporters’ cameras catch your eye, and your stomach churns with dread. The story is already out there, and now it’s not just the legal system you have to worry about—it’s the court of public opinion.

San leans in to whisper in your ear, “Ignore them. They don’t matter right now.”

You nod, swallowing the rising anxiety as you step toward San’s car, slipping into the passenger seat. Once you’re both inside, the weight of the day crashes down on you all at once.

San glances over at you as he starts the car, his voice gentle. “We’ll figure this out, Y/N. I promise.”

His words are meant to comfort, but you can hear the determination behind them. You trust him—more than anyone right now—and that trust is the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely.

"Can we... go to your place, please?" you say, voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course we can," San answers with a smile, his dimples showing.

The car pulls away from the station, the city lights blurring by outside the window. You don’t know what comes next, but with San by your side, you feel like maybe—just maybe—you’ll be able to get through this.

The exhaustion catches up to you and you fall asleep in San's car.

Once San parks in his designated spot, he's quick to put a face mask on you to ensure no one recognizes you while he takes you to his place. You were still deep asleep with a frown on your face, so San resorted to carrying you bridal-style to his apartment.

He tried to be very slow while placing you down on the bed in the guestroom, but the movement stirred you awake. When you open your eyes, San's face is just inches away from yours.

You sit up straight and hug him, the teers falling freely now. He warmly embraces you, telling you words of encouragement and how he'll be with you through it all.

While your sobs quieted down, San pulls away to look at you. "I'll make us some dinner, hmm? I'll take about half an hour. Is that okay?" he asks sweetly, his thumbs reaching to brush your tears away.

"Can I... be in the kitchen with you? I don't want to be alone," you murmur.

San leans in to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Of course, sweetheart. You don't even have to ask." You smile lightly, your heart racing in a good way this time.

"Let's go now, hmm? I plan to make your favorite side-dishes!"

The courthouse is bustling with activity as people file in and out of courtrooms, their footsteps echoing off the marble floors. You sit beside San on a wooden bench outside the courtroom, waiting for your case to be called. You’re dressed professionally, trying to project the calm confidence that comes naturally to you in the boardroom, though inside you’re anything but calm.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and you feel the weight of every glance thrown your way by people passing by. The gravity of the situation is suffocating, but San’s steady presence beside you keeps you grounded. He hasn’t left your side since this nightmare began, and for that, you’re grateful.

San leans closer, his voice low and reassuring, “Remember, this is just the arraignment. They’ll present the charges, and I’ll enter a plea on your behalf. After that, we’ll have time to prepare for the real battle. Stay calm, and let me do the talking.”

You nod, drawing a deep breath and trying to steady your nerves. San gives you a small, encouraging smile before standing as your case is called.

“The People versus Y/N L/N.” The bailiff calls out.

The words send a jolt through you, but you rise to your feet, following San into the courtroom. As you walk down the aisle, you catch sight of a few reporters lurking in the back rows, their cameras trained on you. It takes everything in you to keep your head high and your expression neutral as you approach the defense table.

The judge, a stern older woman with sharp eyes, sits at the bench, looking down over the courtroom. The prosecutor stands across from you, a tall man with a stack of folders in front of him, looking all too confident.

The judge glances at the paperwork in front of her. “This is the arraignment for Y/N L/N. Let’s proceed.”

The prosecutor steps forward first, clearing his throat. “Your Honor, the defendant has been charged with illegal possession of narcotics and distribution of a controlled substance. Given the amount found and the nature of the charges, the prosecution believes there is sufficient evidence to proceed with the case.”

The words hang in the air like a death sentence, but you stay quiet, your hands clasped tightly in your lap. You glance at San, who remains calm and collected, his focus razor-sharp. He rises to address the court, his voice steady.

"Your Honor," San starts, voice firm, "my client pleads not guilty to all charges."

The judge nods, making notes as San continues, his tone professional but determined. "We would also like to request that Ms. L/N remain free on bail while we prepare our defense. My client has fully cooperated with the investigation thus far and has strong ties to the community. She is not a flight risk, nor is she a danger to the public."

The prosecutor steps forward again, shaking his head. “Your Honor, given the severity of the charges, we believe that bail should be revoked. The defendant was found in possession of a substantial quantity of illegal narcotics. In fact, the police were in search of individuals tied to the distribution of this very drug. We consider her a significant flight risk, particularly given her financial resources.”

You swallow hard, anxiety tightening in your chest as the prosecutor speaks. You’ve never felt so vulnerable, so exposed. San’s hand brushes yours under the table, a small but comforting gesture, and you glance at him. His expression is calm, though his eyes flash with determination.

San stands up again. “Your Honor, my client is a respected CEO, one that is dearly loved by her employees, and has no prior criminal record. She has been falsely accused and fully intends to clear her name. She has no intention of fleeing and will cooperate with any conditions the court deems appropriate.”

The judge taps her pen against her desk thoughtfully before looking up. “Given the circumstances and the defendant’s lack of prior offenses, I will allow Ms. L/N to remain free on bail, provided she adheres to strict conditions. She will surrender her passport and be subject to regular check-ins with law enforcement. Any violation of these conditions will result in immediate incarceration.”

Relief washes over you, though it’s tempered by the reality that this is just the beginning. San nods respectfully to the judge, and you follow suit, standing as the judge dismisses the court.

As you turn to leave, you feel the weight of the reporters’ eyes on you once again. The camera flashes, the whispers—it all threatens to swallow you whole. But San places a reassuring hand on the small of your back as you walk out of the courtroom together, his presence steady and unwavering.

Outside, the fresh air hits you like a lifeline, and you take a deep breath, feeling some of the tension leave your body.

“You did great in there,” San says.

You give him a weak smile, though the anxiety still churns inside you. The legal battle is just beginning, and the road ahead looks long and treacherous.

“Thank you, San. For everything.”

He glances down at you, something soft and unspoken in his eyes, before giving you a nod.

“We’ll get through this. I promise,” he assures you.

With those words, you both walk toward his car, the future uncertain but no longer quite as overwhelming. You trust him, and for now, that’s enough.

2 days later

The rich, dark wood of Hongjoong’s office and the soft leather chairs normally evoke a sense of calm professionalism, but today the air is thick with tension.

You sit at the large table in the corner of his office, San beside you, his expression serious and focused. Across from you is Hongjoong, his brow furrowed in concentration, and to his right is Yeosang, a lawyer specialized in criminal law whom Hongjoong had brought in to help navigate this tangled mess.

Yeosang leans forward, flipping through the files spread out on the table, his sharp eyes scanning the details of your case with practiced ease. He seemed to be in deep thought. “We’re dealing with someone who knows what they’re doing. The drugs were placed in a high-traffic area—your car—and, more importantly, they had your fingerprints on them. It was deliberate for sure.”

You lean back in your chair, frustration and disbelief bubbling beneath your surface composure. “But how? How did they even get my fingerprints on the bags? I’ve never touched drugs in my life.”

Yeosang looks up at you, his expression calm and reassuring, though his mind is clearly racing through possibilities. “It’s not impossible to get your fingerprints on something without your knowledge. It could’ve been as simple as someone using an item of yours—a glass, a piece of paper, even a surface you touched—and transferring the prints to the bags. It’s not common, but it’s doable with the right resources.”

San’s hand tightens slightly on the table beside you, his jaw clenched. His eyes are sharp, focused on the bigger picture. “This wasn’t some random setup. Someone orchestrated this carefully. They knew exactly what they were doing. The question is—who benefits from framing Y/N?”

A heavy silence settles over the room as everyone exchanges glances. The answer hovers in the air, unspoken but undeniable.

“It has to be Jaeyoon,” Hongjoong voices out grimly.

You nod, the name sitting like a stone in your gut. The thought had crossed your mind more than once since this all started—your soon-to-be legally ex-husband, vindictive and controlling, would have the motive and the resources to pull something like this off. But even knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to accept.

“He’s been desperate to stop the divorce, but I refused to back down. He knows he’s losing his grip on me, and his family’s connections… they’d give him access to people who could do this.”

Hongjoong nods, his expression hardening with a protective edge. He’s known you and Jaeyoon long enough to have seen the warning signs, even if it took time for you to accept them yourself. “If Jaeyoon’s behind this, he’s playing a dangerous game. But we need proof. Right now, it’s all speculation.”

Yeosang taps his fingers lightly against the folder in front of him, deep in thought. “We’ll need to dig into Jaeyoon’s connections, his finances, and any third-party contacts he may have used. If we can find a trail—payments to people who could’ve planted the drugs, any suspicious transactions—we can start to build a case. Of course, we can't do that without a court order, so we would somehow have to bring him up to the court to be able to access his finances.”

San sits up straighter, his focus laser-sharp. “Speaking of finances, we went over Y/N’s financial records. They’re clean—no suspicious activity, no unexplained deposits or withdrawals. Whoever’s doing this wants to make it look like she’s running the operation without leaving any financial trail.”

Yeosang nods, impressed but not surprised. “That’s important. It gives us a baseline to work from—if there were any dirty money moving through your accounts, it would be much harder to prove your innocence.”

You feel a small sense of relief at that. At least that part of your life is still intact. But then the anxiety returns as the enormity of the situation sinks in. “So… what now? How do we prove that it wasn’t me?”

Yeosang leans forward again, his tone reassuring. “We focus on the weak points in their setup. The planted drugs, the lack of a financial trail, and the circumstantial nature of the evidence. We need to show the court that there’s reasonable doubt—and if we can link it back to Jaeyoon, we’ll turn this whole thing around.”

Hongjoong looks at you, his eyes softening slightly. “We’ll figure this out, Y/N. We just need to be smart about it. We’ll start looking into Jaeyoon’s connections and anything we can do legally without a court order. There has to be something—someone who can tie this back to him.”

San speaks up, his voice resolute. “I’ll coordinate with investigators and see what we can find. But we also need to be prepared for whatever Jaeyoon throws our way. He’s not going to back down easily if we were to bring him to court.”

You nod, your mind spinning with everything that’s been said. The pieces are slowly starting to come together, but there’s still so much uncertainty—so much at stake. You’ve always prided yourself on being strong, on keeping control of your life and your business, but now you feel like you’re navigating a minefield where every step could lead to disaster.

San looks at you, his gaze steady and unwavering. “You won’t be fighting alone. We’ve got your back.” You nod at him, a smile playing on your lips.

The room falls silent again, but this time there’s a sense of unity—of resolve. You’re facing an uphill battle, but you know you’re not facing it alone.

The door opened, and Jongho— an intern under San— stepped in, followed by your secretary, Yena. Their expressions were serious, and you immediately sensed that they had uncovered something important. Your pulse quickened as you turned to face them.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Jongho began, his voice careful and respectful, "but we found something that might be really important."

Yena stood next to him, her eyes flicking to yours. “We were reviewing the security footage from the office building, particularly your office since I'm the only one that has access besides you. We were checking to see if there was anything unusual that could explain how this whole situation began. And… well, something stood out.”

Jongho pulled out a tablet from the folder he was carrying and moved toward the table. Everyone in the room leaned in, curiosity and hope sparking through the air. San's focus sharpened as Jongho tapped the screen, pulling up the relevant footage.

“We found this clip,” Jongho explained, “It was taken the day before the police discovered the drugs. It shows an employee bringing two cream-colored bags to your office—bags with wood samples inside.”

You leaned closer to the screen, watching the semi-grainy security footage play out. There you were, sitting at your desk, while one of the employees approached, two nondescript bags in hand. At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. You accepted the bag, placed it on the desk, and resumed your work.

But then your eyes caught something unusual.

“He’s wearing gloves,” you muttered, the realization hitting you like a punch to the gut.

"Exactly," Jongho replied, his voice low but confident. "That’s what caught our attention. Wearing sterile gloves to deliver wood samples? That’s not standard."

Yeosang leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he focused on the details of the footage. "It’s certainly not typical. Most people don’t wear gloves unless they’re handling something delicate, hazardous, or… they don’t want their fingerprints on it."

San clenched his jaw beside you, his hand resting on the table as he processed the implications. "Who is this employee?" he asked Jongho and Yena, though his gaze stayed fixed on the screen.

Yena stepped forward. "I’ve seen him before—he works in logistics, occasionally helping with deliveries. I believe his name is Jang Yohan. But I’ve never seen him wear gloves like that. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but now… it feels off."

"It wasn’t just wood samples in that bag, was it?" you asked quietly, almost to yourself. The thought left a bitter taste in your mouth. "That’s how they did it. Whoever set me up had him plant the drugs in that bag—wearing gloves to avoid leaving his prints. My fingerprints are the only ones that would be found on it."

Yeosang leaned back in his chair, his mind clearly running through the possibilities. "It makes sense. They were careful—calculated. The gloves are the giveaway. It’s likely whoever hired him instructed him to use them for this exact reason."

San handed the tablet back to Jongho, a grim determination settling over his face. "This is exactly what we need to create doubt in the prosecution’s case," he said, his voice strong. "It doesn’t clear Y/N yet, but it raises serious questions about how the drugs ended up in her possession."

Hongjoong, who had been pacing while the video played, finally stopped to look at you. His eyes were intense but filled with that familiar protective instinct. "We need to trace this back to whoever orchestrated it," he said firmly. "If it’s Jaeyoon, we need proof. We need to dig into his finances, find out if he paid anyone off, and see who this employee is connected to. It’s the only way we’ll be able to prove that Y/N was framed."

You nodded, your heart hammering in your chest. A glimmer of hope began to break through the fog of anxiety. "Thank you," you said quietly to Jongho and Yena. "This could be the key we’ve been looking for."

Jongho offered a small, reassuring smile. "We’ll keep digging. There has to be more."

As they exited the room, the weight of the situation seemed a little lighter. You glanced at San, who was already gathering his thoughts for the next steps.

"This changes everything," he said softly, though there was an edge of fire in his voice. "We’re going to prove your innocence, Y/N. Whoever’s behind this isn’t going to get away with it."

For the first time in days, you felt a small measure of hope. It was far from over, but now you had something to fight with—a direction to move in.

The video footage had given you something solid—something that could cast doubt on the charges against you. Yet, the deeper question still gnawed at you: who was behind it all? Jaeyoon?

Hongjoong was already pacing again, his mind clearly racing, when he stopped abruptly and turned to you, San, and Yeosang.

“Y/N,” Hongjoong said, his voice sharper with a sudden realization. “That employee—the one who handed you the bag with the wood samples. What exactly did he say when he gave it to you?”

You frowned, trying to recall the details of that day. "He said he would come back later to collect the bag after I’d reviewed the samples. I didn’t think much of it at the time—just normal procedure."

Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “And did he ever come back to get it?”

You nod your head. “Yes, I had it sitting on my desk to review it later as there was ample time before the deadline to approve it. He took it while I wasn't there. If I remember correctly, he told Yena that he mixed up the samples.”

San’s gaze snapped toward Hongjoong, who looked deep in thought. Slowly, Hongjoong walked back to his desk, picking up a photo that had been part of the evidence submitted by the prosecution. It was a picture of the drugs found in your car—specifically, the bags they had been placed in.

He stared at the picture for a long moment before grabbing a pen from his desk. Without a word, he drew a line across the image, right above a very noticeable purple mark on the bag. Then, he turned back to you.

“When you received the bag of wood samples,” Hongjoong began slowly, “did you notice anything unusual about it?”

Your mind raced back to that moment. It had been a normal day, and you were preoccupied with your work. But now, with the intensity of everything, you tried to remember.

“There was… a mark on one of the bags,” you said, furrowing your brow as the memory came into focus. “A black or purple ink mark.”

Hongjoong nodded, lifting the photograph up to eye level. "Look closely at this picture—the one of the drugs found in your car."

You leaned in, your eyes scanning the photo until they settled on the same purple mark that you’d just remembered. Your breath caught in your throat as the pieces began to fall into place.

“It’s the same bag,” San said, his voice tight with realization. “The exact same bag we see in the footage.”

Hongjoong nodded, his expression grim. “That employee came back for the bag because he wanted to switch out the wood samples for the drugs. The purple mark connects the bag found in your car with the one you were given in the office.”

Yeosang leaned forward, his fingers drumming against the table as his sharp mind began piecing it together. “This means whoever set this up planned it meticulously. They planted the drugs in the same bag that you’d innocently handled with the wood samples, ensuring your fingerprints were on it. When the police found it, there’d be no question—it would appear like you’d been in possession of it the entire time.”

You sank back in your chair, a mix of anger and disbelief coursing through you. “This was all calculated,” you murmured. “They knew exactly what they were doing.”

San’s face hardened, a new determination sparking in his eyes. "We have a direct link now. This bag connects the planted drugs to the employee who handed it to you. It’s evidence that can start to unravel their case against you."

Hongjoong crossed his arms, the gears of his mind turning. “If we can find out who this employee is connected to, we’ll have the leverage we need. I’m willing to bet everything that Jaeyoon is involved. We just need to follow the trail.”

Yeosang nodded in agreement. “The bag, the gloves, the purple mark... it’s all pointing toward a deliberate setup. We just need to dig deeper into the employee’s background, see who’s pulling the strings.”

San turned to you, his expression softer now but no less serious. "We’re getting closer, Y/N. This is the break we needed."

You met his gaze, feeling a flicker of hope return. It wasn’t over yet—not by a long shot—but with this new piece of evidence, you were finally beginning to see a way through the darkness.

-×-×-×-

2 weeks later

The courtroom was quieter this time, but the tension was even more palpable than before. You sat beside San at the defense table, your fingers gripping the edge of the chair. Across the aisle, the prosecutor shuffled through his papers, confident as ever. The employee—the one who had handed you the bags. Jang Yohan—was sitting at the witness stand, his eyes darting nervously around the room.

San was focused, calm, but you could feel the intensity radiating from him as he prepared to question the witness. Hongjoong sat a few rows behind you, his presence reassuring as always, while Yeosang was absent, working on other elements of the case. This was a critical moment, and everyone knew it.

The judge entered, and the room stood in unison. After the usual formalities, the hearing began. The prosecutor wasted no time presenting the case, confidently restating that the evidence was clear: you had been found in possession of illegal narcotics, your fingerprints were on the bags, and the prosecution would show that you were guilty of the charges.

Then it was time for San to present your defense. He stood slowly, his movements deliberate as he approached the judge.

"Your Honor," San began, his voice steady and commanding, "new evidence has come to light since our last hearing, which I believe will cast significant doubt on the charges against my client. We have footage that shows my client receiving the bags containing the drugs, but there’s more to it than that."

You couldn't help but find San extremely attractive. The way he carries himself, the way he speaks... focus, Y/N.

The judge’s eyes sharpened with interest. "Proceed, Mr. Choi."

San gestured toward the screen where the footage would be displayed. As the security video played, the room grew silent. You could see yourself sitting at your desk, accepting the bag from the employee. Everyone watched intently as the employee, conspicuously wearing sterile gloves, handed the bags over with care.

After the footage ended, San spoke again. "As you can see, the employee, Mr. Jang here, who delivered the bag at that time was wearing gloves. We found this suspicious, and upon further investigation, we discovered that the bag in question—both the one delivered in my client’s office and the one found in her car—has a unique identifying mark."

San held up a printed image of the bag, with the purple ink mark circled clearly in the photograph. "This very evident purple mark is present on both the bag from the footage and the one seized by the police. My client’s fingerprints were found on the bag because she handled it while inspecting wood samples," San explained. "We believe that Mr. Jang, under instruction, delivered the bag intentionally so that Ms. L/N's fingerprints would easily be all over it. We also have the footage of Mr. Jang coming back to Ms. L/N's office to get the bags hours later, wearing sterile gloves yet again. Additionally, a large chunk of footage was deleted from multiple viewpoints around the office building the same day Ms. L/N received the wood samples. The footage from Ms. L/N's office can only be accessed by Ms. L/N herself and her secretary."

The judge leaned forward, her eyes on the witness stand where the employee sat, clearly uncomfortable. "So you’re suggesting this employee, Mr. Jang, was complicit in planting the drugs, Mr. Choi?"

San nodded. "Yes, Your Honor. And we intend to prove it."

The judge turned her attention to the prosecutor, who frowned but nodded for the employee to be questioned.

San approached the witness stand, his gaze locking onto Mr. Jang, who was already shifting nervously in his seat. He started with a calm but pointed question. "Can you explain why you were wearing gloves when delivering the bag?"

Mr. Jang hesitated, his eyes flicking toward the prosecutor for support before returning to San. "I—I don’t really remember," he stammered. "It was a normal delivery."

San didn’t let up. "Is it normal for you to wear hospital-grade sterile gloves when handling wood samples that are already placed in a bag?"

Mr. Jang’s face flushed. "Not usually, no."

"Yet, on this particular occasion, you chose to wear gloves?" San pressed.

Jang Yohan fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable with the scrutiny. "I guess I—uh, I wasn’t thinking."

San’s expression remained cool as he continued. "Or were you instructed to wear them? Were you told to ensure your fingerprints weren’t left on the bag?"

His eyes widened, and you could see the panic starting to set in. "No, I wasn’t instructed—"

"Then how do you explain the purple mark on the bag?" San cut him off smoothly, pulling out another image of the bag found in your car, the mark clearly visible in both photos. "This is the same bag you delivered to my client, isn’t it?"

His lips pressed into a thin line. He glanced at the prosecutor again, but this time the prosecutor remained silent. His hesitation only deepened the growing suspicion in the room. "I don’t know," he muttered, avoiding eye contact.

San stepped closer, his tone still measured but carrying a steely edge. "You don’t know? Or you don’t want to say? Who instructed you to plant those drugs in Ms. L/N’s possession?"

The room was dead silent as everyone waited for his answer. The employee’s hands fidgeted in his lap, beads of sweat forming on his brow. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper. "No one… no one told me to plant anything." You inwardly sigh in utter frustration.

San took a step back, giving the employee a moment to breathe, but his eyes never left the man’s face. "You realize perjury is a serious crime, don’t you?"

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he did. "Yes… yes, I know."

San nodded once, satisfied for now. He turned back to the judge. "Your Honor, this man’s refusal to provide a clear explanation, combined with the evidence of the identical bags and the suspicious nature of his actions, strongly suggests that someone instructed him to plant the drugs in Ms. L/N’s possession. We will continue to investigate this matter, but we believe this evidence raises significant doubt about my client’s involvement."

The judge glanced from San to the employee, her expression unreadable. "Mr. Choi, I agree that the evidence raises questions. We will continue to allow further investigation into this matter, but for now, we will adjourn until the next scheduled hearing. The court is dismissed."

You felt a small wave of relief wash over you as you heard the sound of the gavel. The case wasn’t over, not by a long shot, but you could see that San had managed to shift the momentum in your favor. As the courtroom slowly emptied, you turned to San, gratitude and hope mixing in your chest.

"Thank you," you whispered, knowing full well that without him, the situation would have looked far bleaker.

San gave you a small, reassuring smile. "We’re getting there, Y/N. Step by step."

-×-×-×-

2 days later

The café was quiet, the low hum of conversation and the clinking of coffee cups providing a subtle background noise. San and his bestfriend Wooyoung, a corporate lawyer, sat at a corner table, their eyes scanning the room as they waited.

Wooyoung adjusted his jacket casually, the tiny recording device hidden within the fabric. He leaned back in his chair, his expression calm and collected, while San checked the time on his phone.

A few minutes later, the café door swung open, and the employee, Mr. Jang Yohan—nervous, disheveled, and clearly rattled from the last court hearing—stepped inside. His eyes darted around anxiously before they landed on San and Wooyoung. With a deep breath, he approached the table, his steps hesitant.

"Mr. Choi," he greeted San with a shaky voice, "you wanted to speak with me?"

San nodded, gesturing to the chair across from him. "Yes, have a seat."

Jang Yohan glanced around once more before sitting down, his hands fidgeting on the table. Wooyoung remained silent, observing the man carefully, his expression unreadable.

San wasted no time. He leaned forward slightly, his voice calm but firm. "We know you’re involved in framing Y/N, but what we need now is the full story. Who ordered you to plant the drugs in her car?"

The employee swallowed hard, clearly nervous. His gaze shifted to Wooyoung, who gave him a polite but unreadable smile. The pressure was mounting, and it was clear that the employee was caught between fear and guilt.

"I—I've told you, no one ordered me to do anything," he stammered, his voice trembling.

Wooyoung, sensing the employee’s hesitation, leaned forward, his tone friendly but sharp. "Look, we’re not here to ruin your life. But if you don’t come clean, this is going to end badly for you. You don’t want to be the fall guy in this mess, do you?"

Jang Yohan blinked, his hands shaking slightly as he looked down at the table. His shoulders slumped under the weight of the situation.

"I… I was just following orders," he whispered finally, his voice barely audible.

San exchanged a quick glance with Wooyoung, sensing that they were finally breaking through.

"Whose orders?" San asked, his tone measured, giving the man space to speak without pressure.

He hesitated, his fingers tapping nervously on the table. He glanced around again, clearly afraid of being overheard. Wooyoung remained calm, his hand resting casually on the table, the recording device capturing every word.

"It was… Ms. L/N's mother-in-law," the employee said, his voice shaking. "She… she approached me. She told me to place the drugs in Y/N’s car. She said it was the only way to stop the divorce and protect their family. She said she would have my kids expelled from their schools if I didn't listen. She also paid me off, and I—I didn’t know what else to do... I worked very hard to put my two children in a decent school, and one of them in guitar lessons."

The air around the table seemed to freeze as the words hung there. San’s expression didn’t change, but inside, a surge of anger and determination flared. This was the confirmation they needed.

"Jaeyoon’s mother, Mrs. Baek," San repeated, his voice carefully controlled. "She orchestrated all of this?"

Jang Yohan nodded quickly, looking down at his lap as if ashamed of his role. "Yes. She said her son told her there were no security camera's in Ms. L/N's office so there was no way I would get caught. They told me to delete the other footage of me moving about the building. I never wanted to do this."

Wooyoung leaned back slightly, giving the employee a sympathetic look. "And now, here you are, being dragged into a legal mess that could ruin your life."

He nodded, his face pale. "I didn’t know it would go this far. I just… I just did what she asked. I was scared of my kids' lives getting ruined."

San leaned back as well, keeping his expression neutral. "Well, you’ve just confessed to a crime. But here’s the thing—we’re willing to help you. If you cooperate with us, we can protect you and get you out of this. Your kids will not be affected in any way. But you’ll need to testify in court. You’ll need to tell the truth."

Jang Yohan looked up, his eyes wide with fear but also relief. "You’ll… you’ll help me?"

Wooyoung nodded, offering a small smile. "We’ll make sure you’re protected. But you have to stick to the truth, no matter what happens."

He nodded quickly, looking like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "I’ll do it. I’ll tell the truth. I don’t want any more trouble. I just want a good life for my kids."

San and Wooyoung stood up, the deal made. As they left the café, Wooyoung adjusted his jacket again, the recording safely stored. The confession was all there, captured and ready to be used in court.

As they walked toward the car, San turned to Wooyoung, his expression relieved but still serious. "That was risky, but it worked."

Wooyoung grinned, patting his jacket lightly. "Sometimes a little pressure does wonders."

San nodded, his mind already moving to the next steps. This was the turning point they needed. The truth was finally coming to light, and now, with the employee’s confession and the evidence in hand, they could start dismantling the case against you.

-×-×-×-

1 week later

The courtroom buzzed with anticipation as people filled the seats, journalists whispering to one another and spectators craning their necks to get a better view of the proceedings.

You sat beside San, your pulse racing as you watched the judge take her seat. This was it—the moment where everything could finally come to light. San had been relentless, and now the confession that could clear your name was about to be delivered.

The employee who had played such a pivotal role in your framing sat nervously at the witness stand, fidgeting as the prosecutor paced in front of him. Across the room, you could see the prosecutor’s frustration—this wasn’t going to go the way they had hoped. San, calm and composed as ever, sat back in his chair, waiting for his moment.

After the preliminary questions from the prosecution, it was San’s turn. He stood up, buttoning his jacket before walking toward the witness stand, his presence commanding the room. Jang Yohan avoided eye contact, clearly uneasy but ready to confess what he had done.

San didn’t waste any time. He stopped directly in front of the witness stand and addressed the employee with a calm, measured voice. "You’ve already testified that you were the one who delivered the bag to Ms. L/N. Now, I want you to tell this court exactly what you told me. Who ordered you to place the drugs in her car?"

The courtroom fell silent, every eye on the employee. He glanced nervously toward the prosecutor before finally speaking.

"It was Mrs. Baek, Ms. L/N's mother-in-law," the employee admitted, his voice trembling. "She told me to do it. She… she said it was to stop the divorce, that if I didn’t help, her family would be ruined. She threatened to have my kids expelled from their school, and she paid me a lot of money, too."

Gasps rippled through the courtroom, and the judge raised a brow in interest. San continued, his expression neutral but firm.

"So, Ms. L/N's soon-to-be ex-husband's mother orchestrated the entire plan to frame Ms. L/N for drug possession and distribution?" San asked, his voice steady.

The employee nodded, his face pale. "Yes. She paid me to plant the drugs in Ms. L/N's car. I didn’t want to, but she… she said I had no choice. She promised I wouldn’t get in trouble if I helped her."

San turned to the judge, his tone shifting to one of firm conviction. "Your Honor, this confession clearly establishes that my client has been framed by her ex-in-law's family. This entire case against Ms. L/N has been a deliberate attempt to discredit her and force her into submission."

The judge’s gaze moved from San to the prosecutor, who looked visibly shaken by the turn of events. The entire courtroom felt the weight of what had just been revealed.

"I request," San continued, his voice growing stronger, "that the court issue a subpoena for the financial records of Mr. Baek Jaeyoon’s family. If this court examines their transactions, I am confident we will find evidence of payments made to individuals—perhaps even this very employee—proving that this was a calculated scheme to frame my client."

The judge looked thoughtful, leaning back in her chair. She glanced at the prosecutor, who was still recovering from the bombshell of the confession.

The prosecutor rose, clearly scrambling for control. "Your Honor, while the testimony is damning, we must be cautious about making broad accusations without hard evidence. There is no direct proof connecting the Baek family finances to any payments made in relation to this case."

San didn’t miss a beat. "That is precisely why I’m requesting access to their financial records. We have the employee’s confession, and now we need to follow the money trail. If Baek Jaeyoon’s mother orchestrated this, the payments will be there. This court needs to see the full picture before passing any judgment on my client."

The judge tapped her fingers lightly on the bench, her eyes shifting between the prosecutor and San. After a long moment, she spoke.

"Mr. Choi’s argument is compelling. Given the testimony we’ve just heard, I am inclined to allow the request for a financial investigation into the Baek family. The court will issue a subpoena for the necessary records, and a thorough examination will be conducted."

You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. The tension in the room eased slightly, but the stakes remained high. The judge nodded toward San, signaling that he had the floor.

"I also request, Your Honor," San added, "that the charges against Ms. L/N be dropped while pending the results of this investigation. With this new testimony, there is significant doubt about her involvement, and keeping her under suspicion serves no purpose."

The judge paused again, thinking it over, then turned back to the prosecutor. "Does the prosecution wish to oppose this request?"

The prosecutor, still reeling from the confession, reluctantly shook his head. "No, Your Honor. We will await the results of the investigation."

With a sharp rap of the gavel, the judge made her decision. "The court grants the request for a financial investigation into the Baek family and suspends the charges against Ms. L/N pending the outcome. This hearing is adjourned."

The courtroom buzzed with murmurs of excitement and shock as the judge exited. You let out a long breath, feeling lighter for the first time in what felt like forever. San turned to you, his expression softening as he met your eyes.

"We’re not done yet," he said quietly, "but we’re closer than we’ve ever been."

You nodded, relief and gratitude flooding through you. The truth was finally starting to emerge, and now, with the financial investigation underway, it was only a matter of time before the entire web of lies unraveled.

-×-×-×-

1 week later

The atmosphere in the courtroom was electric with anticipation. Journalists lined the back rows, cameras flashing as they caught glimpses of the key figures entering.

Jaeyoon and his family sat on one side of the room, their expressions tense and cold. Across from them, you sat with San, your heart pounding as the final pieces of the puzzle came together. This was the moment you had been waiting for—the culmination of everything you’d fought so hard for.

Your family, finally here to support you, sat behind you, their presence a welcome comfort in this fraught situation. They had never believed you before and hadn't supported you at all, but you couldn’t help but not care today. You felt good today.

The judge took her seat at the bench, her sharp eyes scanning the room as she called the court to order. The tension was palpable as the final hearing began. This time, Jaeyoon and his family were the ones on trial, and you could feel the shift in the room—the power dynamic was no longer against you.

San stood up, his movements calm and measured as he approached the bench. He held a folder in his hand, the evidence that would finally expose Jaeyoon and his family for their crimes.

"Your Honor," San began, his voice steady and commanding, "the financial records that were subpoenaed have revealed a deeply concerning pattern of illegal transactions made by Mr. Baek Jaeyoon and his family. Over the past several months, large sums of money have been wired from Mr. Baek Jaeyoon’s personal account to an influential politician, Yoon Daechul. These funds were used to facilitate the procurement of illegal narcotics, which were then planted in Ms. L/N’s possession as part of a scheme orchestrated by Mr. Baek’s mother."

A murmur rippled through the courtroom as San presented the financial records, each one showing the repeated wire transfers. The judge’s expression remained neutral, but there was a spark of interest in her eyes as she leaned forward to examine the documents.

San continued, his voice unwavering. "The money trail is clear—each payment corresponds with a significant political favor or action, all of which led to the acquisition and placement of the drugs. This politician acted as a middleman, using his connections to secure the narcotics that were used to frame my client. The Baek family attempted to cover their tracks, but the records don’t lie."

The judge turned her attention to the prosecutor, who looked visibly rattled by the developments. "Does the prosecution have anything to say regarding these findings?"

The prosecutor stood, his expression stiff as he shook his head. "No, Your Honor. The evidence speaks for itself."

The judge nodded, then turned her gaze to Jaeyoon and his family. "Mr. Baek, your financial records clearly show that you and your family engaged in illegal transactions with a known politician in exchange for narcotics. This court will not tolerate such blatant disregard for the law, nor will it allow innocent individuals to be wrongfully accused as a result of your actions."

Jaeyoon’s mother shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her once imperious demeanor now replaced by visible anxiety. Jaeyoon himself remained stoic, but there was no mistaking the tension in his clenched jaw and stiff shoulders.

San took a breath before continuing. "Your Honor, I also want to address the broader context of this case. Ms. L/N and Mr. Baek Jaeyoon were once married, but their relationship took a dark turn. Ms. L/N sought a divorce after enduring emotional and physical harm at the hands of Mr. Baek. The situation escalated to such a degree that Ms. L/N was forced to file for a restraining order to protect herself."

He held up the restraining order for the court to see, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "This was not a simple marital dispute. Mr. Baek inflicted harm on Ms. L/N, both physically and emotionally. She had no choice but to separate from him and take legal measures to ensure her own safety."

San’s eyes flicked toward you for a moment, offering a reassuring glance before he turned back to the judge. "This conspiracy is an extension of Mr. Baek’s attempts to control and manipulate Ms. L/N. His actions have gone beyond personal harm and escalated into a criminal scheme designed to ruin her reputation and destroy her life."

Jaeyoon’s face reddened with anger. He shot up from his seat, glaring at San. "That’s a lie!" he shouted, his voice shaking with fury. "I never laid a hand on her—she’s exaggerating everything to make herself look like the victim!"

The judge raised an eyebrow, her gaze hardening. "Mr. Baek, you will refrain from speaking unless addressed directly by the court."

Jaeyoon’s mother, unable to remain silent any longer, stood as well, her voice sharp and indignant. "Your Honor, this is nothing more than a slanderous attack on my family! That woman—" she pointed accusingly at you—"has been trying to ruin my son from the beginning! She never belonged in our family, and she couldn’t handle the pressure of being part of something bigger than herself. This restraining order is just her way of making herself look innocent!"

The judge’s gaze was ice-cold as she replied. "Mrs. Baek, the restraining order was granted based on documented evidence of harm and harassment. This court will not dismiss it as a fabrication."

Jaeyoon, sensing the growing tension between himself and his mother, suddenly snapped. "You know what? Fine! Yes, the money was wired. Yes, the drugs were planted, but it wasn’t my idea!" He turned to his mother, his expression hardening. "This whole thing started because of her. She couldn’t stand the idea of losing control, and she dragged me into this mess."

His mother gasped audibly. "Jaeyoon! How dare you—"

"It’s the truth, Mother!" Jaeyoon snapped, his voice filled with anger and bitterness. "You said we had to get rid of Y/N no matter what if she went through with the divorce, that she was a threat to our reputation. You were the one who wanted to frame her! I went along with it, yes, but you were the mastermind!"

The courtroom buzzed with whispers and murmurs as Jaeyoon threw his mother under the bus. His mother, for the first time, looked truly rattled, her confident demeanor cracking. She opened her mouth to respond but couldn’t find the words.

The judge raised her hand, silencing the courtroom. "Regardless of who initiated the scheme, it is clear that both of you participated in an illegal conspiracy to harm Ms. L/N. The court is not interested in your blame-shifting; we are here to ensure justice is served. You will both be held accountable."

The judge turned back to you. "Ms. L/N, given the overwhelming evidence presented in this case, I hereby dismiss all charges against you. The court recognizes that you were the victim of an elaborate and malicious scheme. You are free to go."

Relief washed over you, your heart soaring as the weight of the past few months lifted from your shoulders. San’s hand brushed against yours beneath the table, a quiet gesture of support and reassurance. Behind you, your family let out sighs of relief, your mother placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

But the judge wasn’t finished. Her gaze returned to Jaeyoon and his mother, her voice now firm. "Baek Jaeyoon, your mother, and any individuals involved in this conspiracy will now face charges of fraud, bribery, and conspiracy to commit a crime. This court will see to it that justice is served. You are hereby ordered to remain in custody pending further investigation."

The gavel struck the bench, and the courtroom erupted into a flurry of activity. Reporters scrambled to document the fallout as Jaeyoon and his family were escorted from the courtroom in disgrace, their faces pale and drawn.

You stood slowly, still processing the magnitude of what had just happened. San was beside you in an instant, his hand resting gently on your back. "It’s over," he said quietly, his voice filled with quiet triumph. "You’re free."

You turned to face him, tears welling in your eyes, but this time, they were tears of relief and gratitude. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice breaking slightly. "I couldn’t have done this without you."

San smiled softly, his eyes warm. "You didn’t have to. We were always in this together."

As you left the courtroom, surrounded by your family and the people who had fought beside you, you felt a sense of peace you hadn’t known in a long time.

Justice had been served, and for the first time in months, you could breathe freely, knowing that the truth had finally prevailed.

-×-×-×-

The morning sun cast a warm glow over the city as you drove toward Saturn & Co., your heart lighter than it had been in months. The events of the trial were still fresh in your mind—the relief of being exonerated, the weight of the accusations finally lifting off your shoulders.

Today, you were returning to the company you had built, ready to step back into your role as CEO with renewed purpose after weeks of suffering.

As your car approached the building, you noticed something different. A large crowd of employees stood gathered outside the front entrance, their faces lit with excitement. You slowed the car, your curiosity piqued, and as you pulled into your parking spot, the realization hit you—they were all waiting for you.

The moment you stepped out of the car, the sound of cheering erupted from the crowd. It caught you off guard, the sheer volume of their support overwhelming. Your heart swelled with emotion as you took in the scene in front of you.

"Welcome back, Ms. L/N!" someone shouted from the crowd, and soon, the voices of your employees echoed the sentiment, their cheers blending together in a wave of affection and celebration.

Your eyes landed on a large banner strung up across the front of the building. In bold, colorful letters, it read:

"Welcome Back to Our Beloved CEO! We’re So Proud of You!"

Tears pricked at your eyes as you stood there, momentarily stunned by the outpouring of love. These were the people who had stood by you throughout everything—who had never lost faith in you even when the world seemed determined to tear you down. They had believed in your innocence, and now, they were here to celebrate your return.

A soft hand rested on your shoulder, and you turned to see Yena standing beside you, her face glowing with pride. "We wanted to do something special for you," she said, her voice filled with warmth. "You’ve been through so much, and we’re just so happy to have you back where you belong."

You smiled at her, your heart full of gratitude. "Thank you, Yena," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "This means more than I can put into words."

You took a deep breath and began walking toward the entrance, the crowd parting to let you through. Your employees clapped and cheered as you made your way up the steps, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of peace and belonging.

As you reached the front door, you paused for a moment, turning back to the crowd. "Thank you," you said, your voice carrying over the noise. "I’m so grateful for all of you. Saturn & Co. isn’t just a company—it’s a family. And I’m proud to be your CEO."

The applause grew louder, and you smiled, feeling the warmth of their support wrap around you like a protective shield. With renewed energy, you stepped into the building, ready to lead once more.

Inside, the familiar sights and sounds of the office greeted you—people bustling about, the hum of conversation, the scent of freshly brewed coffee. It felt like home, and after everything you had been through, you realized just how much this place—and these people—meant to you.

As you walked toward your office, you passed by employees who smiled at you, offering words of encouragement and congratulations. By the time you reached your desk, you felt lighter, more hopeful than you had in months.

Sitting down, you looked out over the city through the large windows, a smile playing on your lips. The battle had been long and hard, but you had emerged on the other side stronger than ever.

A knock was heard at your door before Yena stepped in, a bright smile on her face that caused one to form on yours too. "Ms. L/N... the surprises aren't done yet!"

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Really?"

"Mhmm, you have a dinner reservation with Attorney Choi San at the Signiel Hotel tonight," she says with a smirk, well aware of the feelings you had for San. "I also booked a suite for the two of you at the hotel."

You blushed, a small chuckle escaping your lips. "Yena... you're too much."

"I know!" she beamed. "I know you get off only at six thirty today, so I already packed a little bag for you. I also chose your outfit for tonight as well and I'll do your hair and makeup too!"

-×-×-×-

When you arrived at the restaurant in the hotel, your heart raced when you noticed San seated at a booth in the corner, looking at the Seoul skyline, the sun setting in the distance. He was wearing beige pants and a navy blue shirt with a couple of buttons undone. You were also wearing navy blue, and knowing Yena, you knew she purposely got you this dress to match with San.

As you moved closer to San, the sound of your heels caught his attention, and he turned to look at you.

He stands up, taking your hand in his. He brought your hand up to his lips, placing a delicate kiss at the back of it. "Y/N..." he greets, "you look gorgeous tonight."

You blush. "Thank you, so do you, Sannie."

San giggles. "Shall we?"

You take a seat across San, and he pours a glass of wine for you. "How was work? Yena told me your employees surprised you today." You nod your head, taking a sip of the sweet wine while you made conversation about the events of your day. San listened to you so attentively, his eyes full of adoration.

The waitress brought the food and you noticed it had some of your favorite dishes; ones that you told San you loved weeks ago. You felt really touched that he remembered your likes and dislikes.

The two of you ate in comfortable silence, occasionally talking about the food or an old memory while you both watched the sun set and the light from the buildings around became more bright.

After dinner, the two of you went to your suite at the hotel, putting on a romcom movie and sipping on some more wine. Throughout the movie, you were cuddled up to San's side, your arms wrapped around his muscular arm. You felt very at peace. You felt so safe with San.

Once the movie ended, you stretched your arms, getting up on your feet. You walk towards the floor-to-ceiling windows, placing a hand on the glass while you looked at the beautiful night view of Seoul.

San made his way towards you, pausing right behind you. "It's so pretty," you say in awe, turning around to look at him. The strap of your dress was nearly falling off your shoulder, catching San's attention.

San thought you were glowing. You looked so beautiful.

He took two slow steps towards you, towering over your smaller form. His eyes roamed all over your face. It seemed like he wanted to say something but was hesitant to.

"What's wrong, Sannie?" you ask, hand reaching up to cup his face. He placed a hand over yours while leaning into your touch. He was looking intensely in your eyes like as if he was looking for some signs.

"Can I kiss you?" San asks in the softest tone he could muster.

You smiled, feeling your cheeks heat up. "I'd like that."

San brought his free hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing along your skin. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, making you lean into his touch.

He leans down closer to you, brushing his lips against yours before gently kissing you. It felt just like how he kissed you at his place — soft, warm, and pure.

Your arms moved to wrap around his neck, pulling him even closer to you. You caught his bottom lip in between your teeth, giving it a light bite. San let out a faint moan at your actions, pressing his body against yours.

When San pulled away to breathe, you took the opportunity to kiss his neck, gently sucking and licking at his skin, making sure to leave a mark on him Your other hand traced the expanse of his shoulder before moving down his chest until you reached the button of his shirt that wasn't undone. You place your hand flat on his chest, and you could feel his heart beating fast.

You pulled away to look at him. "Can I?" you ask, eyes moving between his and the buttons of his shirt.

"Yes, please," he responds, and you slowly move your fingers to unbutton his shirt, his muscular chest and abs coming into view.

San swiftly swept you off your feet, carrying you bridal-style to the loveseat in the very corner of the living room. As soon as he sat down with you in his arms, you moved to straddle his lap. You gently push the navy blue shirt off his body, exposing his bare upper body to you.

Oh. My. Goodness. Holy. Fuck.

Now, this was a view you could never get enough of: San, half naked, looking up at you with hooded eyes, with the Seoul skyline in the background.

San smirked, extending his muscular arms along the top of the backrest of the loveseat. "Impressed?" He asks, titling his head slightly, a smug look on his face while he watched your eyes take in the sight of his body that he worked very hard on despite his hectic attorney schedule.

You leaned in to place a lingering kiss on his lips before you let yourself sit down completely on his lap, feeling his hard dick beneath you, the only barrier being the material of your panties and his pants.

You mimicked his smirk, straightening your body, reaching for the hem of your dress, taking it off right in front of his eyes, letting it pool on the ground, leaving you in just your lacey panties.

San's jaw dropped.

He shamelessly checked you out, eyes noticing the muscles on your thighs, his mind imagining his face getting squeezed by them.

If you thought San was hard enough beneath you before, he was even harder now.

"Impressed?" You ask, repeating his words, your hands running through his soft black hair before resting on his shoulders. You leaned in to kiss him again, grinding down on his hard clothed dick.

San was about to lose his mind. "Very," he practically growls.

You noticed he hadn't touched you in any way yet. You reach for his hands, bringing them up to your chest so he could grab your tits. When he looked at you, you nodded at him, giving him consent to touch you.

San brought your lips back to his in a hungry kiss while you continued to grind on his clothed dick. His hands played with your boobs, giving them a light massage, rolling your hard nipples between his fingers. You let out a moan in his mouth, and you could feel your panties sticking to your wet folds.

You slightly pulled away, resting your forehead against his. "San..." You say his name breathlessly. Your head spinning from the intensity of the kiss. Your clit was throbbing, begging to be touched in any way. "San, please."

"Please what, baby?" San murmurs, his hands moving up and down your thighs. The pet name from his lips caused a chill to run down your spine.

"I want you right now," you say, pressing your core down harder on his clothed dick.

"Want me how?" He knew the answer, but he wanted to tease you.

You lean down to kiss his neck, dragging kisses up to his earlobe, placing a soft kiss beneath his ear. "Attorney Choi... Choi San..." you whisper in his ear in a low tone. "I want you to fuck me right now."

San's hands moved up your thigh to your heated core. He touched you over the fabric of your panties, smirking at the wet patch he could feel. "So needy for me, hmm?"

He looked you straight in the eye when his hands moved to one side of your hip, ripping that side of your panties, repeating the same thing on the other side. You gasped at his actions, and he tossed the scraps onto your dress on the floor.

"I really liked those panties," you say with a light chuckle, moving your body up to make yourself more comfortable, but San stopped you midway; your tits were right in front of his face.

"I'll get you a whole pack of them later," he murmurs in a low tone. "But could you stay like this for me, hmm?"

He took your nipple in his mouth while his finger swiped your slit to collect the wetness there. He rubbed your slick onto your clit, using it as lube to better rub your clit.

"San, fuckkk," you moaned when his finger moved faster on your clit. Without any warning, he pushed two fingers inside your wet pussy, wasting no time in pumping his fingers in and out while his thumb rubbed your clit in circular motions.

San pulled his fingers out, and you whimpered at the loss of contact. He sucked his fingers clean before picking you up and taking you to the bedroom of the suite. He dropped you onto the bottom of the bed so that your legs were dangling off the edge.

San unbuckled his belt, tossing it aside, his pants and briefs off following shortly after. You marveled at the sight of him nude in front of you, your hips bucked up involuntarily at the mere sight of him. He dropped to his knees, his hands moving your legs to rest over his shoulder. He wasted no time in licking your slit, moaning at your sweet taste. He attached his mouth to your clit, licking and sucking the nub while he slowly introduced two fingers in again.

Your thighs were squeezing his head, just like he imagined, and your loud moans prompted him to pump his fingers even faster. You were so lost in your pleasure until your orgasm came crashing, and you came all over San's fingers.

You took a minute to compose yourself before you sat up straight, wrapping your hand around his hard cock. You pumped his length, your thumb rubbing circles on his slit. San moaned you name out before taking your lips in his, his tongue brushing across your lower lip. You opened your mouth slightly to give him more access, but he pulled away and stopped your hand from jerking him off further. "You're making me feel too good, sweetheart... I might just bust right now."

"Let me ride you then," you say to him.

San nods, moving to lie down in the middle of the bed. You hovered over his cock, leaning down to kiss him. "I'm on the pill," you let him know before sinking down onto his length.

You started moving down on his dick at a slow pace, wanting to take the time to familiarize yourself with the way his cock felt in you. You sunk down even more until you bottomed out. You gave yourself some time to adjust to his size before you increased the pace, bouncing on his dick.

His hands moved to cup your ass, helping you slam harder on him. "God, Y/N, I-I swear... you're so fucking hot taking my dick like that," he growls.

The room was filled with your combined moans and the sound of skin clapping, and you watched San's eyebrows furrow while his tongue darted out to wet his laps, his upper teeth sinking into his bottom lip while he moaned.

San loved the way your tits bounced and the way you threw your head back, but he wanted to take control now. Placing his hands on your hips, he stopped you from moving and quickly flipped you onto your back.

"Let me take care of you, yeah?" He slammed his cock in and out of you in a rapid pace, his hands interlocking with yours while he fucked you. He was repeatedly hitting your spot, and you felt the coil of pleasure tighten in your stomach. You tried to move your hands to touch him, but his hands held yours down with a little force, the gesture causing your clit to throb yet again.

"San... I... It's... I'm gonna..." you struggle to say. Your body felt like it was on fire.

"Let it go, baby, cum for me," San encourages, hand reaching down to rub your sensitive clit. Few more thrusts and an intense orgasm washes over your body, causing your body to shake while you chanted out his name.

"Hold on, baby, I'm almost there," San lets you know. He quickened his pace even more before coming to a stop, his dick pulsating in you when he reached his climax.

San slowly pulled out before collapsing next to you. He reached for your sticky, sweaty body, pulling you to his chest while you both tried to calm your breathing.

He kisses your forehead. "Are you okay?"

"Mhmm," you mumble, "It was so good." San chuckles, holding you close to him. "Hey, San?"

"Hmm?"

"You know I have feelings for you, right?" you confess.

"Oh really? I didn't know that!" he teases, and you lightly smack his chest. "Of course, I think everyone knows that now. But Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"You know I have feelings for you too, right?" he admits, and the butterflies in your stomach flutter around wildly.

"I... I wasn't too sure," you murmur honestly, "I felt like there was so much going on and... I don't know, I thought that you might like me, but I've been... too much lately, these past few months."

San strokes the back of your head. "And? If anything, these past few months where you were so vulnerable and yet so brave, so strong, has made me admire you even more. My feelings for you have only kept growing since the first time you stepped into my office. I want to be with you, Y/N. I want to show you the life you deserve."

"You do?" you ask in a soft tone, your heart racing at his confession.

"Yes, sweetheart," he chuckles lightly. "But I don't want to rush into anything. I know these past few months have been hard for you. I want you to take as much time you want or need before you decide that I'm the one you want."

You hum, thinking about his words, appreciating how considerate he's always been. "I only want you, San," you turn to look at him, "I'll always only want you. I want to take things slow," you mentally laugh, because you literally just had sex with him, "but I want to do it all with you."

San's smile widens, his dimples deepening as warmth fills his eyes. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering like a promise. "You have no idea how much that means to me," he whispers, voice hushed with emotion. "I never thought I'd find someone who sees me like you do."

Your heart swells, and you pull him into a sweet kiss, one where you both can't stop smiling. The way his lips move against yours feels like a silent vow, like this moment is the beginning of something more—something real.

When you break apart, you giggle softly, your foreheads resting together. "Let's take a shower together and then cuddle to sleep, hmm?"

San chuckles, his breath brushing your skin. "You sure you're not trying to tempt me again?" His eyes twinkle with playful mischief.

You pretend to think about it, biting your lip. "Maybe… or maybe I just want to hold you close and feel safe in your arms."

San’s grin softens into something more intimate, his gaze steady on yours. "Then let me take care of you, the way you deserve. Always."

As you both make your way to the shower, hand in hand, the future doesn’t feel so uncertain anymore. For the first time in a long while, you're no longer weighed down by the past or the fear of what might happen next. All that matters is this—San, you, and the love that's beginning to blossom between you.

And as the warm water cascades over you both, washing away all the worries of the day, you know deep down, you're exactly where you belong.

[sideprince]

Eileen Prince

I'm relentlessly curious about how a witch from Slytherin, a house that values cunning and ambition on paper, and bloodlines/nobility in its culture, ended up living in a muggle slum.

Unfortunately for me, she's a barely mentioned character written by an author who consistently fails to portray female characters with depth or dimension. The women in Harry Potter are portrayed as either maternal or villains, or, in Ginny Weasley's case, as redeemed by their masculine traits (because Rowling's Thatcher era feminism dictates that equality for women = emulating patriarchal ideas of manhood). About as much as you can expect from an author who's as unable to acknowledge the personhood of trans women as she is to write women as actual people. This leaves a lot of room for interpreting or delving into what Eileen Prince's life may have looked like, and how that would have affected her son's development.

There are three direct mentions of Eileen in the text :

“The picture showed a skinny girl of around fifteen. She was not pretty; she looked simultaneously cross and sullen, with heavy brows and a long, pallid face. Underneath the photograph was the caption: Eileen Prince, Captain of the Hogwarts Gobstones Team.”

HBP Ch. 25

“I was going through the rest of the old Prophets and there was a tiny announcement about Eileen Prince marrying a man called Tobias Snape, and then later an announcement saying that she’d given birth to a" “ — murderer,” spat Harry.

HBP ch. 30

“Harry looked around: he was on platform nine and three-quarters, and Snape stood beside him, slightly hunched, next to a thin, sallow-faced, sour-looking woman who greatly resembled him.”

DH Ch. 33

(Shoutout to Harry James Potter, who didn't recognize Eileen's fifth year photo despite her resemblance to Snape, the teacher whose classroom he got his used Potions book from. Shoutout also to Harry James Potter who didn't connect the dots between the Prince's handwriting and Snape's, a teacher who regularly wrote instructions on the board. "I needed to make the plot work, ok?" - JK Rowling, probably.)

Other relevant excerpts:

“Snape staggered - his wand flew upwards, away from Harry - and suddenly Harry’s mind was teeming with memories that were not his: a hook-nosed man was shouting at a cowering woman, while a small dark-haired boy cried in a corner ”

OoTP Ch. 26

“Harry delved into his trunk and pulled out his copy of Advanced Potion-Making before getting into bed. There he turned its pages, searching, until he finally found, at the front of the book, the date that it had been published. It was nearly fifty years old.”

HBP Ch. 16

Supplemental material re: Gobstones from JK Rowling:

"...it remains a minority sport within the wizarding world, and does not enjoy a very ‘cool’ reputation, something its devotees tend to resent. Gobstones is most popular among very young wizards and witches, but they generally ‘grow out’ of the game, becoming more interested in Quidditch as they grow older.  ... Gobstones enjoys limited popularity at Hogwarts, ranking low among recreational activities, way behind Quidditch and even Wizarding Chess." [There's an additional sentence on the Harry Potter wiki's Gobstones page: "...it is also known as 'the thinking wizard's Quidditch.'"]

A few conclusions can be drawn from what little information we're given about Eileen:

She's described as "cross and sullen" around the age of 15, and as "sallow-faced, sour-looking" when she's older.

She's captain of the Gobstones club around her fifth year, so she likely marched to the beat of her own drum - given that Gobstones isn't particularly popular - and owns it proudly enough to take, or even seek out, a leadership role.

The sport is described as "the thinking wizard's Quidditch" which would imply Eileen was more interested in intellectual challenges and was clever (and can be paralleled with a young Severus' comment about "if you'd rather be brawny than brainy" to James Potter when they first meet on the Hogwarts Express).

Her marriage and the birth of her son are both announced in the paper, which might mean the family she came from was of some importance or note, or perhaps something else... but we'll get to that.

If we assume that Severus' secondhand copy of Advanced Potion Making was originally Eileen's (reasonable, though there is no textual evidence) then its publication date is likely around the time she was a sixth year, given that this particular text was specific to students beginning to prep for N.E.W.T. exams. Harry begins his sixth year in 1996 when the book is "nearly fifty years old," so we can assume Eileen was 16 years old sometime not long after 1946. Severus was born in 1960, which would mean Eileen was in her mid-late 20s at the time.

Her marriage was dysfunctional at best, abusive at worst. As per a Pottermore post that is still up on WizardingWorld.com: "...the desperately lonely and unhappy childhood [Severus] had with a harsh father who didn’t hold back when it came to the whip." Based on this, we can assume Tobias was abusive, and given Eileen's cowering as he shouted at her, she presumably feared him.

From these bits of information emerges the image of a woman who either had a surly personality, or at the very least was guarded, though perhaps just formal. There isn't really any difference in how her face is set when she's in an everyday setting like King's Cross, or when she's having her picture taken for the Gobstones Club. It's possible she was a stern, unsmiling person, but it's also possible - given that her wedding and child were announced in the paper - that she came from a family of some standing and was raised to conduct herself with hallmarks of British class, such as dignity and unaffectedness. After all, there are several wizarding families - such as the Potters - who are wealthy purebloods with social standing but are not part of the Sacred 28. Additionally, the Gobstones Club portrait would have been taken around the mid-1940s, when portraits were formal and their subjects did not often smile, and given that we see only a snippet of Eileen, we don't have enough information that she was unhappy or sour. It's also important to remember that we see her portrait and Snape's memory of her through Harry's perspective and, like his perception of Snape himself, this may convey Harry's biases.

We also know from the text that Snape had a house in a deserted part of Cokeworth, a fictional Midlands town that presumably had a collapsed milling industry, at the end of a street called Spinner's End. There's a great thread that goes into details about the kind of 2 up 2 down house it would have been, and we can assume that this is Snape's family home given that we know he and Lily grew up in Cokeworth. For all intents and purposes, the conclusion we can draw from this being the Snape family's home in the 60s is that they were working class and cripplingly poor. Most estates like this had been cleared by the 60s, and no longer exist today.

This begs the question: how did a witch from a possibly well-off family end up in an abusive marriage in an irrelevant slum?

Buckle up kids, we're leaving the world of textual references and veering into deep meta territory now. I won't label any of this as head canon because I'm not set on these interpretations, and am just drawing conclusions from the text, but some of it may be a bit loose even for meta.

If Eileen was 16 years old not long after 1946, then she would have finished school in the late 40s, possibly even 1950. While some people (including past me) posit the theory that Tobias may have been injured in WWII and his injuries debilitated him, forcing him to go on the dole and affecting his mental health, I'm increasingly skeptical of this theory. It would make more sense if Eileen had known him before he was drafted/enlisted and had committed to a relationship with him, which would then have changed when he came back from the war and was altered. If we assume Eileen's age based on the idea that it was her own copy of Advanced Potion Making Severus used, then she would still have been at school during WWII (which makes an interesting parallel with Severus' own experience of spending the bulk of the first wizarding war against Voldemort as a student at school).

I do think, however, that there's merit in the theory that Tobias suffered some kind of altering injury and that he wasn't necessarily abusive before Eileen committed herself to him. It makes little sense for a Slytherin graduate who was confident and self-posessed enough to be the face of an unpopular club to be drawn to a partner so abusive his shouts caused her to cower and who whipped his child freely. If, however, he was a charming, happy man when they met who suffered a life-altering injury, the trauma of which left him a shell of his former self, then someone like Eileen might stick around for the sake of the parts of his old self she can still see in him.

It's interesting that she didn't seem to use her magic to protect herself or her son, or even to dress her son in clothing that fit, but we know from the text that depression can cause a wizard's powers to wane:

“...it is also possible that her unrequited love and the attendant despair sapped her of her powers; that can happen”

HBP Ch. 13 (Dumbledore talking about Merope Gaunt)

The fact that the Snapes retained the house in Spinner's End seems to indicate that they continued to live there even when the local industry dried up and the slum was cleared as workers were moved to other parts of the country where they were needed (presumably what happened given *gestures at British history*). The most likely explanation for this would be that Tobias wasn't able to work, and perhaps did suffer an injury, only it was at work, and not during the war. This would mean the family lived on the dole (ie. welfare) and also that he would have spent a lot more time at home. It would also explain his anger and frustration that led to abusive behavior (which isn't to say that disabled people are abusive by any means, but it would have been emasculating for a man who considered himself the breadwinner in the 60s, and chronic pain coupled with limited abilities would give anyone a short fuse).

Moreover, this living situation seems to indicate that there is no additional support coming from anywhere. Where is Eileen's family? Why were they not helping? There's no indication in the text that there is any connection with them at all. We can infer from Snape's memories that, as a child, he learned what he knew about the magical world from his mother. This implies that she talked to him about it a fair amount, and his conviction that he and Lily were going to Hogwarts well before they got their letters also implies that Eileen expected him to go there and was set on her son having a magical education, despite how little she seemed to use her own powers.

Severus knows a lot about the wizarding world as a child, including that prisoners are sent to Azkaban and that it's guarded by Dementors, Hogwarts' house structure and what to expect when he and Lily get there, and about the Statute of Secrecy and the laws around it. When Lily asks him if it makes a difference being Muggleborn, Severus hesitates before replying no, presumably because he's aware of pureblood bias being a part of wizarding culture.

Perhaps that's the reason Eileen's family doesn't seem to be in the picture. My own theory is that Eileen hadn't planned to commit herself to Tobias long-term, and Severus was an accidental outcome of an innocent tryst in which a young Eileen, an educated witch from a well to do pureblood family, was having fun slumming it with a working class muggle and ended up pregnant. While we don't know the wizarding world's attitude around pregnancy and abortion, we do know it's a conservative and classist society that parallels muggle British culture fairly closely, and that the late 50s/early 60s were a time when an out of wedlock baby would have been considered a disgrace.

Add to that the anti-muggle bias of a pureblood family and it sounds like Eileen was disowned her for her mistake (and don't @ me, but even though I know that not all Slytherins are purebloods, it does seem to be a persistent cultural value of the house reaching back to Salazar Slytherin himself, so Eileen's being sorted into it can reasonably be taken as an indication of her blood status). Perhaps the marriage and birth announcements in the Daily Prophet were put in by Eileen herself, if she was a woman from a family where this was customary. It may have been her way of letting her family know of the events, or even of asserting herself and even deliberately defying them, announcing to the whole wizarding world that a Prince married and had a child with a muggle. It makes sense that the girl who wasn't just in the Gobstones club, but became captain, would also say to herself, why shouldn't I have my marriage announced in the paper like everyone else in the family?

It's worth noting that mid-late 20s is pretty young to have a baby in the wizarding world, where the life expectancy and child bearing years are much longer than they are for a muggle. According to the Harry Potter wiki:

"Wizard life expectancy in Britain reached an average 137¾ years in the mid-1990s, according to the Ministry of Divine Health ... Wizards in general have a much longer life expectancy than Muggles, usually living two or three times as long as their non magical counterparts, some living even longer than that depending on circumstances. In addition, seeing as James Potter's parents had him "late in life,” witches likely have significantly longer childbearing years than Muggle women."

Although we see several characters in Severus' generation getting married and having kids not long after leaving school, there's a mention in the text that a lot of people were doing this during Voldemort's reign, as the fear he inspired made people more eager to get a move on with life since they thought they might die any day (I think Mrs. Weasley says this but I can't find the quote, @ me if you do). It's clear this wasn't the norm in the wizarding world. Eileen was a Slytherin, a house that values cunning, ambition, and strong wizarding heritage. Something must have gone very wrong in Eileen's life for her to end up having a child so young and living in a muggle slum.

And so it's possible Eileen Prince found herself pregnant and alone, having been disowned by her family to save face in light of her disgrace, and dependent on the only person she was still close to, the father of her child. It's the kind of storyline that Rowling would write, and it would parallel fairly closely the story of Voldemort's mother, thus adding another to the long list of similarities between Voldemort and Snape.

Lorrie Kim makes an interesting point when she talks about how Snape has a strong reaction to other people having a love life or romantic experiences (the context being Rowling's intention of his love for Lily being romantic and unrequited), but doesn't react particularly strongly to mothers sacrificing themselves for their children, whereas Voldemort does. Her insight, and I think it's a reasonable one, is that Severus accepts the idea of mothers making sacrifices for their children, whether it's Lily giving her life for Harry or Narcissa risking all she did to ask for his help in protecting Draco, because his own mother protected him from his father as much as she could.

There's a lot of room for interpretation on what Eileen's relationship with her son looked like, and what it says about her own state. She may have prioritized not angering Tobias to protect Severus, who as a child might have perceived her actions as a form of rejection. At the same time, she seems to have prepared him thoroughly for life in the magical world, perhaps in the hope that he would find his place in it and escape home. Perhaps she missed it and told him so much about it so she could live through her own memories.

The only time we see her argue with Tobias, in Severus' memory, she's cowering as he shouts. We know from JK Rowling that Tobias used corporal punishment liberally, which implies Eileen didn't stop him despite her magical abilities. We also see in the text, however, that while at school Severus stood up for himself against bullies and fought back, and that he was an exceptionally clever and powerful wizard. As an adult he was brave enough to face Dumbledore when he betrayed Voldemort, and later fought against Voldemort right under his nose (or lack thereof). So it stands to reason that at some point Severus began to stand up against Tobias too.

How much of that was Eileen's influence, or the result of Severus seeing her acceptance of her fate and rejecting it for himself, is hard to say. As for what happened to Tobias and Eileen that their house was Severus' by the mid-90s and they were nowhere in sight, I don't think there's enough information in the text to infer.

[peachhcs]

Could we get kinda what we go from “Sammy how she was really that Will was work it” but in this case how Will was also in a dilema because it’s his best friend and it take him time to understand but he is also willing to sacrifice everything because it’s Sammy his best friend the girl he loves.

the 3 times will's confused about his feelings and the 1 time he isn't

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

will's pining after his best friend, but is he really willing to risk their entire friendship for a relationship?

5.9k words

woo second longest fic of the series and i'm finally doing a request! guys if this is bad, i'm so sorry. i got a bit carried away and i don't like the ending but that's fine lol i'm still working through my requests but feel free to send more and i'll get to it at some point :) this also isn't proofread so if you see mistakes my bad i will try and proofread this soon lol

au masterlist

ONE

the first time will's heart skipped a beat against his chest when he wasn't drunk enough to play off any of the feelings trying to make their way to the surface was watching samy's senior send off for her last homecoming. there were probably over 30 families in the small drive trying to take photos together along with couples everywhere navigating their way through the crowds. knowing the last homecoming was a big deal for samy, will convinced gabe and ryan to drive down to see her off knowing she'd really appreciate having them there.

the three stood with ellen, jim, and luke in a small corner of the lot watching the youngest hughes pack herself together with all of her friends for pictures. there was something nostalgic about all of it considering the boys didn't get things like this when all of their focus was on hockey most of the time. even if they denied it, they secretly loved getting to be a part of samy's senior year.

gabe and ryan talked mindlessly with luke and while will stood in their small circle, he definitely was not paying attention to what was being said. instead, his eyes lingered on his best friend. she stood some feet away from them immersed in her own conversation filled with laughter and large smiles with no idea that a pair of eyes couldn't leave her no matter how hard they tried.

for the entire day since they got to samy's house, will's eyes kept finding samy even if she wasn't looking at him. he'd be standing with ryan and gabe and his gaze would just drift away from them to samy whenever she was in the same room as them. even when she was just walking by, will's eyes followed every single move.

he didn't get it. it couldn't be because of her curled hair, sparkly dress, and makeup.

he's seen her dressed up so many times over the summers because their parents would drag them out to eat at a fancy restaurant no matter how many times they said they didn't want to. it happed at least twice in the three months they spent together, so will didn't get why he just couldn't peel his eyes off the girl.

there was another reason and one that the blonde hadn't fully come to terms with yet.

her date was this guy she'd been talking to on and off over the summer. will met him once when he stopped by in august to take samy out for their first date. he seemed fine—soccer player, good grades, a swimmer on occasion. nothing special, but not some jerk at least. samy liked him and that was all that mattered.

what no one knew was that will didn't fall asleep that night until he heard the front door closing and soft footsteps padding up the stairs where samy's bedroom door shut seconds later meaning she made it back safely.

the guy clung to samy's side the entire time taking pictures. his arm was wrapped around her waist at nearly every second like he was afraid she'd disappear if he let go. that gesture, seeing him grip samy's waist like that, had will's chest tightening into knots and his heart skipping a beat. something in him popped open—a feeling. an urge.

a jealousy.

as soon as those thoughts mixed into the blonde's consciousness, his face whitened even more than it was. his jealousy quickly faded into confusion then back to jealousy then back to confusion the back to—

"you okay?" gabe's voice broke will's thoughts. he snapped his gaze towards his friend who already looked at him expectantly. ryan and luke raised their eyebrows, but tried not to act like they were staring at him.

will's jaw immediately loosened and the color in his face quickly returned to normal as if the feelings in his chest moments ago were never there in the first place.

"yeah, why?"

gabe paused. he looked at his friend a bit longer before slowly shaking his head. "no reason. you looked lost there," the dark-haired boy shrugged.

"think i'm just tired," will forced a yawn to make it more believable.

he knew gabe was studying him like he didn't quite believe what he was saying. next to samy, gabe probably knew will the best which meant he knew when the entire truth wasn't being told. feeling a bit flustered, will drew his gaze away from gabe, but unfortunately, it led itself right back to samy and her date hanging off her side.

something inside of will was screaming as the warmth in his skin returned and his jaw unknowingly clenched seeing them so close together. the feelings returned along with the battle in his mind between jealousy and confusion.

was that why he couldn't peel his eyes away from her all day? because of her date being at her side at every single second and staring at her in a way that made will's stomach drop not because he didn't like the way her date was looking at her, but because he wanted to be the one looking at her like that—

"will! get over here!" this time samy's voice broke the boy from his racing thoughts.

she found his gaze, a soft smile on her lips motioning him over. his nerves eased and a smile replaced the confusion on his features as he shuffled towards her. ellen already had her camera out as samy's date (finally) dropped from her side and will took his place.

samy, who was as oblivious as ever, tucked her head into the blonde's shoulder while his arm found the same exact place on her waist. her touch shot a fiery sensation through will as he mustered up his best smile for ellen 's phone.

"you guys look adorable. i'll send these to your mom," ellen beamed before ushering gabe and ryan into the photo as well.

ryan grabbed samy's other side while gabe hooked himself onto will's side. the four of them scrunched together with wide smiles, but all will could think about was samy's hip pressing into his own marking just how close they were and the explosion it sent throughout the boy's body.

"so, so cute, i'm so glad you guys drove down," ellen said and finished taking pictures for now.

the three broke apart, but lingered close by as samy grabbed her phone to check her makeup. "i think you've looked at yourself twenty times in the span of fifteen minutes," ryan laughed.

"shut up, leonard," the brunette eyed him.

"i'm just saying. you look fine. stop worrying," the taller boy said in a more softer tone. samy rolled her eyes before her gaze fell on will, seeking confirmation because she knew he'd be honest with her.

will's poor blush got worse under her stare, "don't listen to leno. you look good."

his words made samy grin, "thanks, i trust you. thanks for coming down. it means a lot." she ruffled up some of his curls that surprisingly weren't hidden by a baseball cap for once.

"yeah, of course. wouldn't miss it for the world, hughesy."

her smile had will's heart skipping a beat for a second time and something in him wanted to make her smile like that all the time.

the reality of everything set back in when samy's date returned to her side and started whisking her away as everyone began leaving. the girl rushed out her goodbyes and thank you's before disappearing into a car.

"you guys are more than welcome to hang around the house for the night if you don't wanna drive back. dinner, too," ellen extended her offer to the three boys hanging around still.

"anything made by mama hughes is an automatic yes," ryan grinned making the others laugh.

"i'm flattered. you can follow us back up to the house," the older woman beamed.

later that night after the boys ate as much as they physically could, gabe found will sitting on the back deck looking blankly ahead. the dark-haired boy shuffled his way towards the edge of the deck using his foot to poke will's back, announcing his presence.

"what are you doing out here by yourself?" gabe wondered. the sun hadn't set yet, but the air was growing cooler as october drifted into november and there wasn't much to look at besides a playground and the family pool.

"just..thinking," will answered.

for a moment, gabe wondered if he should keep prodding because he definitely knew what will was thinking about. he saw it when they stood in the lot watching samy take pictures with everyone. he saw it in will's face when him and samy took pictures together.

"about?" the boy sat on the step above the one will was on.

"just stuff," the vagueness had gabe rolling his eyes.

"about samy?"

sure, the guys teased the two all the time about having feelings for one another, but it was never serious. they were always joking and will knew that which was why he could brush their comments off. this time gabe was being serious and they both knew that. will couldn't push his questions or comments off.

the silence from the blonde told gabe everything he needed to know. he saw right through will.

"seeing her with her date..i don't know. i didn't like it. it felt wrong. i-i think i felt jealous? like..like maybe it should've been me instead?" will hardly ever opened up about his feelings, especially regarding samy, but he knew gabe wouldn't stop asking.

"do you know why you felt jealous?" gabe wondered.

the words were on the tip of will's tongue, yet he couldn't bring himself to say it. those words have bounced around in his head since that stupid truth or dare game where samy kissed him in the bathroom. they were there when they were drunk and made out with one another, yet neither of them talked about it after. they were there when samy was the first person he went to after a game.

it was all there, but will couldn't say it.

"no, i don't."

if he said it, it made the feelings real and in will's mind, they couldn't be real. she was his best friend. that was all she'd ever be.

TWO

no one spoke a word in the locker room after coach's harsh lecture. the loss sunk into everyone's skin, especially since it was their first loss of the season and they were supposed to win this game. no one did anything right which was why they gave up three points to the other team. the buzz of adrenaline that usually danced across every guy was replaced with solemn and disappointment. will felt it extra hard after his coach pulled him aside to give him an extra lecture.

he was one of the team's best, the coach's favorite, the team's favorite, yet he let everyone down giving up those three points.

no one dared speaking to one another as everyone slowly drifted out of the locker room once they were showered and redressed. will hardly moved from his stall, though. his head fell into his hands along with a bitter line of frustration towards himself.

he couldn't step out of the locker room with the knowledge his parents were waiting probably disappointed in him and another harsh lecture to follow. the boy couldn't handle that right now. he needed to focus on breathing before he punched something and got into even more trouble.

a small knock caught his attention. will lifted his head fully expecting his dad, but when he saw samy lingering in the doorway, everything about his demeanor shifted.

"oh will," the brunette frowned seeing his state.

she went to him, hands pulling his own away from his hair and wiping the tears will didn't even know was falling down his cheeks. "ryan and gabe said you were in here still," the girl explained her presence.

"we fucking lost," the boy choked out.

"i know. i know. it sucks," she pulled him into her so she could run her fingers through his hair and massage the spots he pulled at in frustration.

something about her soft touch and soothing voice had more tears spilling out of the boy as he buried his face into her chest.

will was by no means a vulnerable person. he had a hard time being emotional with people, but everything with samy was different. he could cry in her arms for however long he wanted knowing she wouldn't ever judge him and let him cry for as long as he needed.

her gentle fingers wound around his curls which was a stark contrast to the way he roughly pulled at them minutes ago. they just sat there on the bench while will attempted to regather himself so he'd stop crying, but samy hardly minded. she hummed some mindless tune and everything about it had will's head spinning.

those feelings he had a few weeks ago were back and a lot stronger than before. jealousy, want, and need mixed themselves together creating a pretty lethal combination building in the boy's chest, but again, he couldn't understand it.

why, why, why, why, why.

"wanna talk about it at all?" samy wondered after some more silence.

will slowly lifted his head up so he could meet her gaze. he probably looked like hell, but if he did, samy didn't any anything.

"i let everyone down. coach is mad at me and i'm sure my parents are gonna give it to me once i go out there," the blonde frowned a bit making samy frown as well.

"you didn't let people down. you played your heart out. tonight just wasn't your night," samy said softly.

"but we lost a game we should've won. everyone was counting on me to prove that i'm good at his and deserve a spot on a d1 college team," will continued.

"this one loss doesn't mean you're not good enough. you are good enough. a bad game isn't a bad career. i think you're good enough."

i think you're good enough. her words tightened will's chest along with the way she stared at him—so loving and so sure of his abilities.

"you're just saying that because you have to," the boy almost scoffed.

"i'm not, i promise. i've always thought you're good enough, will. you lost a game and that sucks, but it's not a bad career. no one hates you because you did your best," her words warmed the hockey player's heart.

she wrapped her arms around his neck for a tight hug. will's own 'arms tightened around her waist and buried his face into the crook of her neck. if someone walked in who didn't know them, they'd definitely think they were dating just based on the way they were wrapped around each other.

will never wanted to let go, but he knew he had to eventually, so he drew back. samy smiled, placing a gentle kiss to the boy's forehead. she's done it before, but right now it meant a lot more to will than before. the gentleness of her lips had the boy wondering what they'd feel like against his own lips when neither of them were drunk to even really remember what happened the next morning.

"you wanna go out there together?" samy wondered.

the blonde nodded. he collected his things and wrapped his arm tightly around samy's shoulders as they finally faced his parents waiting for him. they spotted them a few feet outside of the locker room and will braced himself for the worst.

will's mom saw her son's state—dreary eyes, teary cheeks, messed up hair—and placed a hand on her husband's arm before he said anything he was planning on saying. colleen knew another lecture wasn't what her son needed nor wanted. she saw samy hanging off his arm knowing she probably calmed him down in the locker room and she hated disrupting the peace samy brought to him in whatever way.

instead, colleen stepped forward to collect will into a hug. "you did your best, yeah?" she whispered into his ear. all will did was nod.

"you wanna join us for dinner, samy?" colleen looked over at the girl.

she was about to decline the offer until she met will's gaze that said something like please stay and she couldn't ever say no to him when he looked at her like that.

"yeah, i'd love to. thank you."

with that, the four piled into the car back to the house. as soon as will got situated in the back seat, he reached for samy. the girl laid herself in her arms and for a second, everything felt okay. the feelings racing through his chest eased while those three words crept up further and further up.

after dinner, will dragged samy to his room to watch a movie while trying to avoid his dad's lecture for as long as he possibly could. they didn't even get 20 minutes in until samy was falling asleep against the boy's chest. it was a pretty regular occurrence, especially over the summer, but right now will was terrified to even move because he didn't wanna wake her up.

he found his phone, clicking into gabe's contact and staring at the chat for a moment before typing something. he stared a his message for a moment, debating on sending it.

if he sent it, his feelings became real. could he actually do that? could he actually admit something that's been plaguing his mind for months now?

what if everything went wrong?

before will could even think about sending it, his phone started buzzing in his hands as grace's contact flashed across the screen. he grabbed his airpods just as his sister's face appeared.

"hi will. i heard about your game," the older smith smiled gently.

"it was a shit show," will whispered.

"it looked like you were playing well though?" grace offered, but the boy only shrugged.

"i don't know. i guess?"

"why are you whispering?" grace wondered quickly making her brother's face flush.

he carefully directed his camera down to where samy could be seen sleeping at his side. the look on grace's face was a mix between surprise and a small smirk because she also knew all too well about her brother's feelings even if he didn't say anything.

"so when are you finally gonna ask her out?" grace teased.

"stop," will rolled his eyes.

"what? i'm not sure cuddling in your bed is something just friends do," the older girl stated.

"or drunk makeouts?" will muttered that part, but grace heard him nonetheless.

"drunk what?" she sounded nearly flabbergasted.

"never mind," the boy shook his head.

"seriously, will. you obviously like her. what other reason is there for feeling jealous of her homecoming date?"

grace stumped him with that one. will's gaze drifted down to the girl still sleeping peacefully beside him. his fingers found a place in her hair and gently wrapped it around his fingers like she had done for him. the blood roared in his ears along with a feeling of warmth spreading all across his chest watching samy sleep so soundly at his side like nothing else mattered.

"what if i'm scared?" will finally said.

"scared? of what?" grace grew confused.

"if i admit how i feel, it makes it real and i'm scared of making it real. she's my best friend, grace. i'm not supposed to feel this way," the blonde's admission had grace's expression softening.

"i think that's all the more reason to feel this way. the most unexpected feelings come from the most unexpected people, will. i doubt she doesn't feel the same way too."

when the siblings ended their call, will went back to him and gabe's chat feeling a bit more sure than he did before grace called. his message still sat in the box waiting to be sent. with one final look at samy, will hit send and he knew everything after this was gonna be as real as it could get.

from will i think i like samy

THREE

a loud buzzing pulled will from his sleep. the boy jolted, bleary eyes trying to adjust to the dark and find the source of the incredibly obnoxious buzzing. his eyes flicked around his room until his phone screen lit up and he finally realized someone was trying to call him.

he grabbed his phone, not even hesitating as he lifted it to his ear and sounds of a party came through on the other end.

"hello?" will rasped out, sleep laced deep in his voice.

"w-will? hey!" marcie's voice came through. the boy raised his eyebrow trying to remember if he ever gave marcie his phone number.

he pulled the phone away to read the screen, but nothing answered his confusion seeing samy's name on the screen. "marcie?" the boy mumbled.

"hi, hey. yes. sorry. i'm sorry for calling so late..i..jesus.." she stumbled over her words and for some reason, that woke will up more when he heard the slight slur in her tone and her fast talking.

"are you okay?" the boy sat up in his bed.

"yes. maybe. so..we're at this party..we're like..30? maybe? minutes from you? samy drank a little too much..and i-i didn't know who else to call? her brothers would've definitely killed her and..and you were like the first person on her emergency contact list. i know it's late..but like..could you come down? please?"

marcie didn't even have to ask twice as will jumped out of bed and got himself dressed as quickly as possible.

"i'm on my way. can you send me your location?" he was out the front door a second later with keys in hand to his car.

"yes, i did. don't freak out, she'll be fine i just..i have no idea where to take her," marcie explained.

"i'll be there as quickly as possible, okay? just keep her awake and make her drink water," will rushed and the two said goodbye after that.

about 100 thoughts ran through will's head all at once as he definitely went over the speed limit. something in him paled at the idea of samy at a party getting too drunk that she couldn't make decisions for herself. he wondered why she didn't invite him? or why she was drinking that much in the first place?

"just breathe, will," the boy muttered to himself before he gave himself a panic attack.

he made it the house in record time probably going the fastest he's ever gone in a car to cut the trip down. marcie and samy were on the front lawn where will rushed to them as soon as the car slid into park.

"hey, you okay?" he hugged marcie first.

"yeah, i'm fine. i'm sorry again. it's so late and i..i don't know why i didn't..i'm sorry," the girl became flustered and embarrassed she even let her friend get so drunk.

"don't apologize. it's not your fault. has she been drinking water?" will gazed down at the brunette on the ground.

"yeah, i've been giving her a little bit."

samy's eyes gazed up at will while a hint of recognition flashed through them before she literally jumped into his arms.

"willie! hey! what are you doing here?" the girl exclaimed as she practically clung onto him.

"came to get you. you doing okay?" will pulled his gaze down to hers.

"mhm, yeah. perfecttt," she dragged out the t.

"i'm glad you're perfect. wanna get in the car?" samy gave him a half nod as him and marcie helped the girl into the back seat. she practically collapsed onto the entire back row with small fits of giggles leaving her lips. 

marcie and will got back into the front. the first five or so minutes of the drive became filled with silence besides the soft hum of the radio and samy's quiet mumbling to herself. will glanced at her through the rearview mirror every five seconds probably—worry etched into his features and the hundred thoughts racing through his mind again. 

"i'm sorry again. i don't know why she got so drunk," marcie broke the silence, her voice small. 

"don't apologize. it's not your fault," will said. his words didn't convince the girl because she just shook her head. 

"i don't really know the details but i think her and kevin stopped talking. she was briefly talking about it with me the other day and then she proposed going to that party i think to get over him.." marcie's voice faded off into the deafening silence in the car. 

kevin was samy's newest guy—the same one she went to homecoming with. they had been talking for quite a long time with an implication of a relationship soon, so will wondered where it went wrong. 

"i don't know if i should be telling you this either, but samy started rambling on about you. it was broken sentences, but she kept saying how it's been you all along, even kevin knew. something like that," the girl's words tightened the blonde's chest into the familiar knots he's become acquainted with over the past few months. 

"oh." 

"i mean come on, will. you guys are so obvious yet so oblivious at the same time. why else do you think she kisses you in the bathroom?" there was something about driving down backroads at almost three in the morning that brought out the most vulnerable in people. 

"i-i don't think that really counts. she's drunk. i'm drunk," will swallowed nervously, his eyes glancing up at samy again. 

"well, yeah, but aren't drunk words, drunk actions sober thoughts? you're always the one she goes to by the end of the night," the two met each other's gazes. marcie had a pointed look on her expression that will tried not to read into too much. 

"i don't know. it still doesn't feel genuine though?" 

"what about the time you guys kissed sober during that truth or dare?" that was the only time him and samy were sober and kissing. will thought about that moment a lot. 

another silence filled between them. the boy's glance landed on samy who was close to sleep and everything marcie just said replayed over and over in his mind. there was a tug at his heart thinking about samy having him as her first emergency contact and another tug at the smallest idea that she might actually like him back. 

"you like her, right?" marcie spoke again. will's gazed flick over to hers momentarily. 

"yeah," the boy whispered knowing samy was too out of it to understand what they were talking about. 

"i know your scared about ruining everything with her if you did date, but i know you guys care a lot about each other to ever think about hurting one another. when i first met you last year i immediately saw your relationship. i saw the way you looked at her and the way she looked at you. i don't think i've ever seen a guy care that much about her before and that's coming from someone who's been her friend since middle school. you mean a lot to her, will. like a lot," marcie rambled on, but her words had a deep blush spreading across the boy's cheeks. 

will led marcie to the guest room while he sat samy down on the couch. he wanted to sober her up before he let her go to bed knowing she'd have a killer hangover in the morning and he feared she'd throw up in her sleep. 

"thanks for calling me, mar. i'll make sure she'll be okay," will said before the girl went to bed. 

a soft smile appeared on her lips, "i know you will. thanks for coming and getting us. i hope your parents won't hate you." 

"they won't. i'll explain everything and make sure you guys won't get in trouble," the two exchanged warm smiles. 

will returned his attention to the girl on the couch. he grabbed water, a snack, and tylenol in hopes that it will sober her up some more. samy gazed up at him as he came back into the living room, a smile on her lips. 

"aww, you're so sweet willie. i love cheez-its," the brunette hummed. 

"i know you do," the boy chuckled. he poured a few into a bowl, not wanting samy to overeat and make herself sick. 

"you should've been at the party. it was sooo much fun," the girl gushed. 

"it looks like you had fun." 

"i dumped kevin," her bluntness caught will of guard. he's never been around her when she was this drunk and was quickly learning that samy said anything on her mind. 

"i heard," the boy hummed. 

"i didn't really like him that much anyway. he kept arguing with me about stupid stuff. he thinks you like me! isn't that hilarious?" soft laughter tumbled from the girl's lips, but will wasn't laughing. the only thing he could hear was his pounding heart beating a bruise against his chest. 

"i started thinking about it a lot, actually. maybe it's part of the reason why i broke up with him. i don't really know. dating your best friend? that seems scary to me," she kept rambling and will had no idea what to say. 

he wanted to confess everything to her, but he knew she definitely wouldn't remember any of this in the morning, so how true was it really? it brought will back to all of the times they woke up the morning after drunkenly making out, but samy never said anything about it. they just acted like nothing happened. 

"yeah, it does seem scary," the blonde managed.

"i mean would you date me? i'm saying all of this and i don't even know if you like me," the girl laughed again. 

will's heart clenched, biting his tongue to keep from saying anything, "how are you feeling? it's getting late. maybe you should try and sleep?" 

"you're right. i'm exhausted and i'm gonna feel like shit in the morning," samy mumbled. 

"is sleeping in grace's room okay?" will collected her things, extending his hand out to help her up the stairs. 

"mhmm, sounds perfect." 

the two tiptoed up the stairs to the older smith's bedroom. will helped take samy's shoes off and he attempted to wipe some of her makeup off before laying her down. the girl smiled lazily at him. 

"thanks for taking care of me, willie. you mean a lot to me." 

"of course. i'll see you in the morning," the blonde returned her smile, but as soon as he faced away from her, it faded. 

once the bedroom door was shut, will leaned himself against it to just recollect himself with the ache in his heart that samy wouldn't remember anything about tonight. hell, marcie's words were probably just drunk rambling. 

THE 1 TIME

goosebumps ran up will's skin when a delicate hand ran across his arm, pulling the blonde from the book he was reading. he lifted his head, a soft smile appearing on his lips seeing samy peering down at him. "hi," will said. 

"hi, pretty boy," samy returned his soft smile with one her own. hearing that pet name roll off her tongue directed at him was something will would never get used to. even though they've only been together for a month, he'd nevr get tired of hearing it. 

"what's up?" the blonde wondered as he reached his hand up to run across samy's skin. 

"just wanted to come say hi. you looked so cozy up here," the girl giggled. 

"wanna sit?" will offered the tiny space next to him. samy swung her legs over, basically landing in his lap because the seat was definitely not made for two people—or a 6'0 hockey player and his girlfriend. 

"how was golfing with jack, quinn, and luke?" the guys went out early to get a game in and samy did not like golf that much to get up as early as they did. 

"it was fun. i think luke killed all of us, but i think gabe and ryan had fun," the blonde laughed. he caught sight of his teammates down in the yard trying to play volleyball. 

"i swear, my brothers' profession would be golfing if it weren't for hockey," the girl giggled which was like music to will's ears. 

"you should come next time. i think you could definitely beat luke," will lovingly squeezed part of her leg that rested atop his lap. 

"are you just saying that because you want to see me in a skirt?" samy teased a bit which caused will to blush a deep crimson all the way to the tips of his ears. 

"shut up. that's not what i was implying," he playfully rolled his eyes. 

"i know, i'm just kidding. my brothers are way better at golf than i am, so i definitely could not beat any of them." 

a comfortable silence settled between the couple. will's gaze lingered on samy who glanced at her phone, so she missed her boyfriend's loving stare until she looked back up and flushed when he was already looking at her. 

"when do you leave for boston?" she changed the subject for now. 

"august 12th," will answered with a hint of sadness laced in his voice. the idea of leaving hurt will a lot more than he thought it would. especially after finally getting the girl. 

sure, he'd have all of his teammates following him, but the one person he wanted to always be around wasn't coming. 

"three weeks away?" samy wondered and the boy nodded. 

"i can't believe it's already here," will mumbled earning a tiny frown from the brunette. 

"you're gonna do so awesome at boston, will. i'm really proud of you." 

samy shifted so she could wrap her arms around his neck. he buried his face into the crook her neck, placing soft kisses against her skin. "i wish you were coming with me," he mumbled. 

"me too. i wish we got our act together and got together a lot sooner. maybe if i wasn't so afraid of my feelings and kept pushing them away," samy rolled her eyes, but will pulled back. he raised his eyebrow in confusion. 

"wait, how long have you known about your feelings?" 

samy's face flushed, "well..i kept pushing them away every time we drunkenly made out at parties. i don't know. prom i knew i had feelings, but i was scared and stupid." 

"so you did remember the next morning after the party," will chuckled in mostly amusement. 

"uh, yeah. i did. i never said anything because i just..i don't know. i didn't know how you felt. i didn't wanna make it weird and we had a thing going," she shrugged a bit.

"it wasn't obvious to you how i felt after?" will smiled a bit with a small tilt of his head. 

"looking back, yeah it was obvious. i was stupid," the girl flushed again. 

all will could do was laugh and pull samy closer to his chest where he never wanted to let go. everything they went through was worth it in the end to finally have the girl will's always had feelings for. for once in life, he was finally sure about something besides hockey. 

hockey's been a constant and he was too dumb to realize he had another one right in front of his face all along. 

as the hot summer sun danced between the clouds, will had everything he could ever need. samy laid against his chest and what was better than having his favorite girl beside him all the time now? he truly couldn't ask for anything more. 

[pappydaddy]

you are my love (j.m.)

tv show/movie: outer banks | pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

requested by a lovely anon as part of my 800 follower celebration

a/n: i made kiara, john b, and sarah really mean in this, but its mostly kiara and sarah (john b is a little jealous tho so he joins in). in no way is this anti-these characters, they are just more likely to act this way until told off!

synopsis: jj's friends don't like y/n. y/n knows that but desperately tries everything. jj doesn't quite notice, pushing his friends further from y/n. This leads to an explosion that might result in the end of jj and reader.

taglist: @luvhann | @thelakespoets  | @lonely-simp | @smarie7543 | @tenaciousperfectionunknown | @k-k0129 | @maybankslover *line through you user means i could not tag you lovelies!

warnings: people being mean and shitty - basically bullying reader.

navigation | masterlist | taglist sign-up

- not my gif -

GIF by masonmaya31

One bonus to dating outside of your friend group: in case of a breakup, you don’t need to find new friends. One downside: what happens when your boyfriend’s friends don’t like you? That is what Y/N is worried about. Things with JJ had gotten serious, the L-word having slipped out at the sixth-month mark. Now, nearly a year into their relationship, it appeared that his friend group was reluctant to let her in and it was making her nervous.

  It was a small, tight-knit group and JJ was basically the only thing connecting her to them aside from them all living on The Cut. Well, that isn’t necessarily true, Pope did tutor her in Chemistry in freshman year and still remains friendly. In fact, Pope was really the only one who was welcoming to her. And that stung. Especially since JJ told her that John B all but forced Sarah Cameron into the group. But now that JJ was introducing her into the mix, they all seemed unwilling. JJ took some notice, but he just thought they needed to warm up to her. They were like cats - it takes a while to get them to start accepting you. 

  But JJ didn’t see the eye rolls and the shared glances between Kiara, John B, and sometimes Sarah Cameron whenever she does anything, says anything, or JJ talks about her (which, he does that a lot, making her blush and want to curl into herself). She loved when he was talking about her because he looked like he was talking about his most favourite thing on the planet - no. His favourite thing in existence. She hated hearing about herself so much, but the look on his face was enough for her to suffer through it - especially when she could always clearly see the horrible faces of his friends. 

    Even now, she wasn’t even with them. Standing at a distance as she waited at the coffee cart for their orders with Pope, she watched them peering into a store window. The store alone looked fancier than any of their houses (aside from Sarah Cameron’s) and Y/N was sure one item from it cost more than their houses combined - including Sarah Cameron’s probably. “Look at this,” JJ pointed to something in the store window. “This painting reminds me of Y/N.”

  “JJ, it’s a replica of The Girl with a Pearl Earring, I don’t think it can remind you of, Y/N.” Sarah Cameron snarked, sharing looks with Kiara and John B behind JJ’s back. Their noses curled up in a sneer and their eyes rolled so hard that Y/N feared that they would roll right back in their heads. 

  JJ looked back at them and they dropped their faces. “I know what it is,  she’s the one who showed me the painting. It’s her favourite. She talked my ear off for hours on one of our first dates about it.” He blinked, pulling a face as he broke through the three of them, making his way back over to the coffee cart. 

____

  The air was heavy with awkwardness that JJ seemed to not notice as Y/N sat beside him, tucked under his arm and reclining back against his chest. He leaned back against John B’s ratty old couch, smoke rolling from his lips as he exhaled. “Did Y/N tell you guys that her essay on the significance of Gatsby in the modern world was entered into a nation-wide contest to be put in some sort of magazine or something?” JJ spoke up suddenly when there was a lull in the conversation. 

  Y/N felt the uncomfortable heat rising in her cheeks, making her cover them with her hands - dropping her hold on JJ’s because of it. He always was finding a way to talk about her. “That’s so cool, what magazine?” Pope asked, his hand pausing in his popcorn bowl. 

  “It’s some sort of fancy one,” JJ tried to think of the name, taking another drag of his joint. Breathing out the smoke all the way, he waited until there was no more before looking down at Y/N. “What is it called? It’s big, talks about politics a lot-”

  “The New Yorker,” She answered, mumbling as if it wasn’t something to be proud of that her essay met the qualifying conditions to be entered, let alone the fact that she is one of the finalists. “My teacher kinda twisted my arm into it and I didn’t have anything to lose so I let her submit it for me. It’s not a big deal.” 

  “Are you kidding me? It’s a huge deal, Babe!” JJ exclaimed, looking down at her as he leaned forward, cradling her gently as she moved with him, stubbing the blunt out and laying it carelessly on the coffee table. John B and Kiara’s eyes watched it, shocked that he put over half a blunt down. 

  “It really is. The New Yorker is huge and for a high school student’s essay to be even just considered by them is big enough.” Pope nodded, popping two pieces of popcorn in his mouth.

  “I don’t see what the big deal is,” Kiara spoke up with a shrug. Her body language and movements made it seem like it was just a simple comment. A nonchalant input to keep the conversation going. But her tone was sharp and jagged. Like a broken piece of glass aimed for the heart. Pope looked at her oddly, JJ seeming to not notice her tone. “I mean, it is a contest looking at other high school student’s essays. It’s not like she’s up against university students or published authors here.” 

  Y/N blinked, eyes drifting down to her lap where her hands now lay, fingers twisting and tugging at each other as she tried to not let the words and tone hit her. “What are you talking about? She’s like the only student in the contest still that attends a public school. The rest are all preppy little shits that probably pay for people to write their essays.” JJ questioned her, voice high in question. 

  Kiara rolled her eyes. “I know someone who is still in the running. They go to a fancy private school in Connecticut and she averaged a D in English class,” Sarah chimed in from where she sat on John B’s lap, a red solo cup clutched in her hand. “I don’t think the competition is too stiff.” 

  “You know, they’re probably right. It’s just a stupid contest and I didn’t even want to enter it anyway,” Y/N spoke up, swinging her legs over the edge of the couch and lifting herself from her little nook. JJ’s arm tried to tighten and pull her back, but she stood too quickly, not meeting anyone’s eyes as she tried not to cry. She was excited and proud about the fact that she was a finalist. But now, she wasn’t so sure. Not after they shit all over it. “We can just talk about something else, I’m gonna go into the kitchen and get some water.” 

  Quickly, she bolted for the kitchen, weaving around the few people who wandered into the house from the party outside. She blinked furiously, trying to force back the tears. They already didn’t like her, she didn’t want them to think she was a cry baby too. John B’s house wasn’t big, and the noise from outside wasn’t too loud which meant she could hear JJ’s hushed words digging into three of his friends and Pope’s noises of support. “What the hell is wrong with you guys? She’s excited about this and you just shit all over her accomplishment when she’s been nothing but nice to you guys!” 

  “It’s not our fault she’s sensitive, we were just being honest. She doesn’t have to get so upset.” Kie spoke her normal tone, her voice reaching Y/N easily as she hid behind the fridge door, trying to make it look like she couldn’t find a bottle of water even though they were right in front of her. 

  “Yeah bro,” John B spoke up. “Maybe they shut the conversation down because we’re tired of hearing about Y/N-” 

  “What the hell,” JJ roared, standing up before looking over at the fridge, trying to see if Y/N heard it. “Tired? You know what I was tired of? Trying to convince Kie to accept Sarah and hearing you complain about it. You know what was tiring? Hearing you,” He pointed to John B. “Whine like a bitch when Sarah and you had that three week fight.”

  “Those are not the same! You talk about Y/N all the fucking time,” Kie stood up, not caring that she was yelling now. “It’s always Y/N this and Y/N that! And let me fucking tell you, she’s not that special!” Ouch, that hurt. Y/N winced, tears welling in her eyes. 

  “She’s a little bit of a bitch, honestly-”

  “What the fuck did you just say,” JJ interrupted Sarah’s comment, eyes flaring with anger. Just then, the fridge door slammed and Y/N took off towards the door. It was a flash of purple (the colour of the dress JJ saved up for and bought her for her birthday which was yesterday. Pope stood, rushing after her - sensing that JJ was about to tear a strip off of their friends. “Please, tell me how she is a bitch when she gave you her last five dollars left in her paycheque so that you could have an ice cream with us when you forgot your wallet,” He directed that at Kiara. “And what about how she gave you her surfboard to use when you forgot yours? She sat there on the beach with nothing to do for three hours while you used her board,” He pointed to John B. “And you, she literally gave you the shorts she was wearing when you sat in gum so that you could go buy a new pair. You never gave them back by the way and she had to buy new ones that trip,” He pointed to Sarah who had shrunk back into the couch she was sitting on. “That is the girl that I love and you guys have been nothing but horrible to her and if I lose her, this is all on you three and I will never speak to you again. Actually, I don’t even know if I will speak to you again after tonight!” 

  With that, he stormed off, crossing the room and slamming the door all within ten seconds. It took him a second to spot Y/N and Pope, but soon his burning blue eyes spotted them at the end of the dock, Y/N’s hunched frame shaking. Pope’s hand was on her shoulder, talking quietly to - reassuring her. 

  Once JJ saw her, it was like his feet were moving on their own - carrying him to her. Within a minute, he was standing in front of her, Pope heading back into the house to gather her stuff so JJ could take her home. Hands on her shoulders, he tried to dip down to look at her, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Y/N-” He repeated her name in whispers, trying to get her to look at him. 

  “No, JJ,” She sniffled and his heart broke hearing the hurt in her voice. “They don’t like me. I have tried to get them to like me. I have tried everything. I was talkative then I stayed silent. I was nice to them. I tried everything and now you’re gonna break up with me because they are your best friends and they have been with you through so much-” She cut herself off with a little sniffle. “And I can’t bring myself to look at you because I know you’re gonna break up with me and my heart can’t handle so much rejection then heartbreak.” 

  JJ’s hands slid along her jaw, cupping her cheeks. Gently, he lifted her face so she was looking at him. Bloodshot and water filled eyes of someone so kind and innocent blinked up at him. A teardrop rolled from the corner of her eye. Quickly, it was swiped away by his thumb. “Y/N, I’m not going to break up with you because those assholes in there can’t see how happy you make me.”

  “But, JJ-”

  “I don’t give a damn if they are my friends. I don’t care if one of them was a saint. If they don’t like you and are mean to you, the sweetest, kindest, and most likeable person I know, then they are the problem, okay,” He asked, his own eyes welling up with tears. “You, You are the one I love. You are the person who makes me the happiest person ever. You are my best friend. You are my love.” He nearly chanted, his forehead resting against hers. 

  “So, what does this mean for your friend group?” She whispered, guilt eating at her. Even after they spoke so horribly of her, she was still worried about their friendship with JJ. 

  “I have no idea, but I am sure that with you by my side, I’m going to be okay.” He whispered like a prayer, arms wrapping around her, pulling her into a hug. He knew that was what she needed. She didn’t need a kiss. She didn’t need the words he just spoke (though they helped a lot). She just needed him to hold her. Hold her for however long she needed. So that she knew he was there. She always said a hug is the best way to feel someone’s love for you. A hug given the right way is like a hug to the heart. And this hug proved her statement.

[sleepyhutcherson]

hi! I really enjoy reading your work! I was wondering if I could request a Mike Schmidt fluff piece where he proposes to the reader on New Year’s Eve? :) happy holidays

When You Know, You Know

pairing: mike schmidt x fem!reader

summary: dating for nearly three years, mike takes the opportunity to propose to you on new years eve.

contains: no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, vanessa being mike’s bff, chef!mike schmidt (idk how he ended up in here but i love him), abby’s having a sleepover at vanessa’s, mike proposing to reader, relationship established.

a/n: thank you for the request <33 alsp happy new year everyone 🥂🥂🥂

Mike had it all planned out, of course he did. He debated proposing to you at a fancy restaurant but he knew neither of you would really enjoy that because of the attention. You two had been together for nearly three years now, Mike knew for a while now that he wanted to marry you, he liked the idea of spending the rest of his life with you.

Mike sighs dramatically, running a hand through his now messy hair. “You don’t think that’s too boring?” He asks, nervously biting down on his lip. He holds the kitchen phone against his ear, leaning on the wall.

Vanessa, from the other line, rolls her eyes but a smile tugs at the corner of her lips. She was genuinely so happy that Mike would be proposing to you. She could clearly see how in love he was with you.

“You’re overthinking it. Anyway, I think she’ll be too distracted by the question to even give the scenery another thought.” Vanessa says, chuckling softly over the line. Mike could briefly hear the sound of the television playing cartoons.

“I just—I mean, if she says yes—“ he starts, but is cut off by Vannessa muttering “—which she will.” Mike rolls his eyes, but a faint tint of pink shades his cheeks. “—I don’t want her to look back at the proposal and feel like it was insignificant.”

Vanessa’s about to reply when Mike faintly hears the sound of the doorbell through the line. “Shit. Okay, I have to go. Pizza’s here and Abby’s hungry. Look, I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t overthink it!” She says quickly before the line goes out.

—

Mike prepared your favourite food. He enjoyed cooking, he didn’t do it too often but whenever he got the chance he took it. He likes spending time in the kitchen preparing food for people he loves, which in every case that was Abby and you. In another life he hoped he could’ve been a chef.

He set up the table to look more “fancy” but really it was just a white tablecloth, a bouquet of your favourite flowers, and two candles in the centre. You would be home any minute since you worked New Year’s Eve so Mike made sure everything was ready by the time he heard you pull up in the driveway.

You fiddled for your keys in your bag but to your surprise the door opened, Mike standing there with a soft smile. “Hey.” You greet, walking inside the warm house. Immediately, you’re hit with a lovely smell which is coming from the kitchen. That’s when you notice the nicely set up table.

“Hi,” Mike mumbles, closing the front door before moving closer to you to kiss you. It’s a quick but soft kiss. “I missed you.” He says once he pulls away.

You nearly melt at his words. You give him a quick peck on his cheek and lightly rub at the lipstick stain you left behind. “What’s all this?” You ask with a smile on your face.

Mike helps you with your coat, slipping it off of you before hanging it on the coat rack. “We’re having your favourite tonight.” Mike says, grabbing your hand to lead you to the table. He pulls the chair out for you, gesturing for you to sit, once you do he makes his way to the kitchen.

“What’s the special occasion?” You ask, still smiling. You noticed the bouquet of flowers in the middle of the table, you stare at them in awe. They were beautiful, you found it even more beautiful that Mike had got them for you. That he remembered. Of course he did.

Mike comes out of the kitchen with two plates, he sets one down in front of you and the other for himself. He quickly goes back to the kitchen to grab two glasses and a bottle of wine, pouring some for the two of you.

“Thanks.” You smile, your heart beating so quick it’s almost concerning. Mike has been so busy with his new job that you guys haven’t really had a date night in a few weeks. “You made this?” You ask, pointing at your meal with your fork.

Mike nods with a proud smile on his face. “Yeah. I know how much you like it.” He says, taking a sip from his glass.

You take your first bite. Mike was great at cooking, you were aware of that, but God was this probably his best dish so far. Maybe you were being biased because it was your favourite, or maybe because it was made by Mike. “This is amazing.” You say immediately, smiling at Mike.

“Yeah?” He watches you eat, a look of awe on his face as he watches you. This was another reason why he liked to cook for you, he loved seeing you eat his food. He loved how much you enjoyed the food he made, it made him feel accomplished in a way. But also he loved to please you, he loved getting a reaction from you.

“Try some.” You grab your own fork and move more forward to feed Mike. He laughs, trying to deny you feeding him and you pout. Mike rolls his eyes, smiling, and gives in, allowing you to feed him.

“It’s alright.” Mike says, shrugging. He never was great at complimenting his work. You roll your eyes, wiping the bit of food from the corner of his mouth with your thumb.

“C’mon, baby, that’s fucking great. Like, you should have your own restaurant by now. I'm not even joking. Like, I’m sorry I love Gordon Ramsey but you’re probably better than him!” Mike blushes at your compliments, hiding his face with his hands when you keep going.

Mike grabs your hand and pulls you onto his lap, immediately kissing you to shut you up, his face red and warm at your comments. The kiss is passionate, Mike’s way of saying thank you for your many compliments. They meant a lot to him, especially coming from you even if he shied away and denied them.

“God, I love you so much.” Mike mumbles against your lips. Before the kiss can lead to anything else Mike pulls away, he still has something to ask you. His eyes darted to the clock hanging on the wall behind you, it’s nearly midnight. “Hey, c’mere real quick.” Mike stood up, grabbing your hand, pulling you towards him.

His hands wrap around your waist pulling you closer to him. He knows he should probably get to the point but he can’t bring himself to pull away from you. He stares at you, his eyes softening at you. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, drawing faint circles with his thumb. “I love you.” His tone is gentle, his words slow like he’s desperate for you to really listen to him.

“I love you too.” You reply immediately. The atmosphere shifts suddenly, Mike’s arms unwrapping from you. You blink surprised that the moment you two were just having was being ripped.

You stare at Mike with a perplexed expression, Mike finding it adorable. He reaches for something in his pocket and before you know it he’s kneeling down on one knee in front of you. And oh. Oh. You feel your heart start quickening, looking down at Mike, his eyes glistening with the light as he stares up at you. There’s a tiny box in his hand and he opens it for you revealing a ring that sits inside.

“Mike…” you manage to speak, barely above a whisper.

“I love you. I love you so much.” His voice is soft but his words are desperate, needy. “From the moment I met you I wanted this. I wanted to spend every day coming home to you. To spend mornings and late nights listening to you talk. To spend every moment with you, to cook for you, to make you laugh and smile. To have the pleasure to wake up to you every morning. It’s all I’ve ever needed. I want it all forever.”

Mike’s brown eyes appear more hazel, desperately warm. He smiles up at you then, “will you marry me?” His voice is sweet, nervous, but sweet. Gentle. His words bring tears to your eyes. The sincerity of his voice made it all so real, so special.

You nod rapidly. Immediately. Mike’s eyes go wide, his smile growing wider as he stands up to grasp you. His hands cup your face, “yeah?” He breathes out as if he’s been holding his breath this entire time.

“Yes! Yes, Mike.” You cry, smiling. Before you can say anything more Mike closes the gap between you two, kissing you desperately. You kiss back, one of your hands on his neck pulling him closer while the other was running through his hair, Mike breathlessly mumbling “I love you” whenever he got the chance.

Both of you pull away at the loud fireworks going off outside, the bright colours flashing through the window. You stare at them for a moment, Mike’s hands running up from your hips to your waist, when you turn back to Mike he’s already staring at you, paying no attention to the fireworks outside. He had something more beautiful in front of him. Something more bright.

“Happy new year, love.” Mike smiles, bringing you closer to kiss you. You can feel Mike’s smile in the kiss. When he pulls away he moves a strand of your hair away from your face, staring at you, mesmerised. “I love you.”

[fandomfucker]

I loveeee the singer and rhea headcanons you write could you do one where the reader is an actress? Maybe they meet through the reader getting cast in a movie that involves around wwe so she spends time going to matches and backstage

YES

Also, the years are different because that's how i want it and I said so🤷‍♀️

You'd have starred in that movie Fighting With My Family (just a different year though)

Since a big part of Saraya's story was Wrestlemania, you were invited to that years Wrestlemania, just a month or two before you started filming

The one you were invited to was Wrestlemania 39 and you were able to go to not only day 1, but also day 2 and got backstage VIP treatment

You got to meet a bunch (if not all) the wrestlers and had a heart-to-heart with Triple H

Rhea saw you first

She was nervous and jumping around shaking out her hands when she saw you walk down the hallway past her open door

Her heart stopped as did her nervous bounces

She kinda just automatically walked out of her room and watched you walk down the hallway until she couldn't see you anymore

She turned around and caught Dominik laughing at her

He told her who you were and told her to go for it

She didn't have the confidence until a little after winning her match against Charlotte

"Oh my god! Congratulations on your win! I'm Y/n Y/l/n, its so cool to finally meet you. You, uh, you looked really good out there."

"Yeah, you too. Thanks, uh-would you maybe, wanna, like, I dont know, get a drink or something after the show? You dont have to if you dont want to but-"

"I'd love too! And...maybe you could teach me a thing or two about wrestling?"

"Yeah, for sure"

You'd never seen her so nervous and it remained that way until she wound up proposing

But she just thought you were so fucking hot

Little did she know, you were just as affected as she was. you're just better at hiding it

soon as you walked away from yalls first meeting you were blushing and stuttering so bad someone asked if they needed to get you medical help

You were able to watch the matches from the guerilla and get a feel for the environment; the stakes, the people, the emotions, everything so that you'd be able to replicate it for the movie

You studied peoples moves, not only how they moved individually but together

Letting each other know what they were going to do, setting up, taking the bump, everything

You watched Rhea the closest though

It was just because she and Saraya seemed to have a lot in common in the way their characters looked is what you told yourself. Totally not cause she was absolutely gorgeously lethal in the ring

She helped you spare alongside the people actually hired to teach you for the movie. The wrestling with Rhea was more effective because that was her expertise

You definitely learned a lot but you only ever won when she let you

But with her looking the way she does when she riptides you, losing really doesn't sting too bad

You officially start dating around the time the movie comes out later that year, she was your date to the premiere and you guys wore matching outfits and it was perfect

Once you moved on to other projects, Rhea found solace in watching some of your previous stuff she hadn't seen before but found that she could NOT stand watching you scream or cry or be covered in blood (and god forbid a combination of the three)

You woke up once at 2 am to a call from her, checking to make sure you were ok and to hear your voice after she watched a show where your character was tortured nearly to death

She doesn't watch any of your horror/sci-fi stuff anymore

Shes always your premiere date though unless she absolutely has to work in which case you just go alone, but together you always match

She does love the stuff your in where youre not being harmed though and she'll watch them over and over again

She has at least one poster from everyone of your projects up somewhere in her house

Plus an abundance of your merch

Like way too much for any normal person

Kinda gives off Tom Holland and Zendaya vibes, but you each think that you're Tom and your girlfriend is Zendaya (if that makes sense)

Rhea about has a stroke when she find out you guest starred in an episode of Supernatural when you were younger

The Fighting With My Family movie is Rhea's favorite though and harbors the most merch since thats how yall met

You've gone to a ton of PPEs and RAWs since you started dating and fans freak out every time

[planetsano]

↻ 𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: a gripping tale of love as the reader navigates a complex relationship with the infamous toji fushiguro OR toji fushiguro being a shit boyfriend should be a case study!

↻ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: age gap (20’s ↝ 30’s), toxic relationship, smut.

↻ 𝗯𝘆𝗿: female reader, female bodied reader.

You see, the thing about Toji Fushiguro is that he’s always been unapologetically and shamelessly him— he’ll always be a man that will be forever stuck in his own ways. He’s selfish, crude, insensitive, and would do anything no matter how foul and evil to put him forward.

So.. it’s cute— no, admirable that you thought you could change him. A pretty, young thing in her twenties dealing with a wreck of a man like him. How sick is that? Really, your first red flag should have been him wearing a shirt three times too small.

Yeah, the age gap was certainly.. more than a few years, which heavily attributed to the mental disconnect in the relationship. You were bright-eyed and naïve, so much life in you and hadn’t experienced a drop of what real life was like. You often romanticized life, finding beauty in the simplest of moments and weaving dreams from the fabric of everyday experiences. Your vivid imagination painted the world with colors unseen by most, turning mundane occurrences into enchanting adventures.

You held on to the “love could conquer all!” and “I can fix him!” mentality or something like that. But your optimism was a double-edged sword, pushing you to cling to the relationship while also blinding you to the reality that perhaps you both needed different things in life. You needed a life partner and he needed a tight cunt to fuck.

It’s ironic because you approached him first.

“Mister Toji..? What’s your wife like?” You shyly played with the ends of your hair, avoiding his gaze like the plague. “Ah?” Toji raised a brow at you, slightly surprised by the forwardness of your question. “Oh right, ‘don’t have a wife.” “Oh..” You feel your face and the tips of your ears become hot with embarrassment. “Well maybe I could.. make you dinner sometime..?”

Toji liked the appeal of having a woman half his age on his arm. But what he simply could not stand was the amount of energy required for it— oh, don’t misunderstand, he never put forth any real efforts anyway, but it was simply the.. expectation. Toji didn’t give a fuck about dates or anniversaries, all he cared about was emptying his balls inside of your pussy, the hot dinners you make for him and cozy shelter you provide.

You liked to play housewife in your own silly little delusion, finding comfort in the make-believe world where everything was picture-perfect. The idea of being the nurturing, organized, and devoted partner gives you a sense of purpose, shielding you from the harsh realities of what really was. It was a cozy escape, a refuge where you could pretend that all your worries were mere fiction.

Yet, there were moments when the illusion began to unravel, and a whisper of doubt crept into your mind. Were you truly content with this role you had assumed, or were you sacrificing your true desires in pursuit of an idealized version of yourself? The nagging ty made you question if he really loved you as much as you were in love with him. Or at all for that matter. He was a busy man but would returning a call really hinder his day? Would a text twist his arm so much? You never ask though, you would hate to upset him or come across as “immature.”

But if he’s just so horrible, this.. big, bad man who found it annoying that you..? That you wanted to hold hands in public! What made you stay? Why stay with a man that seemed to only have his best interest in heart and you were a second, sometimes third, or forth.

His cock.

That cock was an addiction that you had no intention of quitting. The way this man fucked you was enough to liquidate your mind— leaving you nearly brain-dead as his warm seed oozes from your hole. The width of his cock alone made you stretch an absurd amount, teetering the edge of comfortability. His tip relentlessly gives your cervix a beating— bruising it and leaving a delicious soreness that lasts for nights.

Toji’s physical presence was undeniably imposing and large, that alone makes you feel like a delicate trinket, one treasured and protected. Yet, paradoxically, the way he handled you was anything but delicate. His hands, strong and calloused, held a certain roughness that spoke of a life lived on the edge, battle-hardened and weathered. He folds your body as though you were a ragdoll— regardless of your size.

When he’s gone for days on end, you find yourself yearning for his fulfillment— no hand or toy will satisfy you the way he does. Toji’s ruined sex for you.

Toji withheld affection from you whether it was intentional or not. So when he did praise you it felt as though you were a pretty princess— chemically altering your pretty little brain more than a little bit.

He often kept his emotions locked away, leaving you hesitant of where you stood in his heart. The lack of affection was a constant ache, leaving you yearning for even the smallest crumbs of his praise. Yet, when those rare moments arrived, it felt like a euphoric rush, flooding your mind with a mix of serotonin and dopamine.

His praise, though infrequent, had an intoxicating effect on you. It was like soaring to the highest of heavens, as if the whole universe had aligned in your favor. In those fleeting instances, self-doubt dissolved, and you basked in the warmth of his approval, feeling valued and cherished.

But the hesitation lingered, a cloud of doubt that never fully dissipated. You wondered if his praises were genuine or merely an act of throwing a dog a bone, a way to keep you satiated so you wouldn’t throw one of your fits. The chemistry of emotions within you danced between soaring highs and daunting lows, creating a rollercoaster of feelings you couldn’t control.

You found yourself seeking those rare moments of praise like an addict craving their next fix, yearning for his validation and acceptance. The intoxicating mix of emotions left you captivated and vulnerable, making it hard to see beyond the haze of his allure and your love goggles. You chose to believe a ring is on it's way at the end of the day.

“You did a good job today, lovebug.” “Really?” “Mm.”

And you jump, just like a lap dog. But don’t feel bad, I would too if I had a man as fine as Toji. Woof. ♡

[a-closet-emo]

Why Am I Like This?

4043 words, GrayGhost, written for @duchi-nesten's prompt for last year's phic phight that I never posted on here 😭. Welp, had to get it done before this year's phight. Enjoy!

“You know how there were rumors a while ago that I had a girlfriend?” he asked, and, Ancients, did his voice have to crack on that last word?

“No need to be so embarrassed, Danny-boy! We already know that you’re dating the Red Huntress!” his dad bellowed.

What.

“Yes,” his mom said curtly, “ we do.”

Or

Danny’s brain was short-circuiting.

How was he supposed to explain that he’s dating Valerie Gray, who was definitely not a vigilante ghost hunter, without giving away that he was definitely not a half-ghost vigilante ghost hunter, too?

He got a feeling that Clockwork was laughing at his pain.

Danny set his fork down carefully, grateful that tonight’s dinner wasn’t trying to kill him. He didn’t need that tonight, not when his plans were already going to be so stressful. 

“So,” he started, and immediately three pairs of eyes zeroed in on him. His parents were looking at him expectantly, like they’d just been waiting for him to speak up which was… not a good sign, but Jazz was giving him her encouraging-yet-I’ll-be-disappointed-if-you-don’t-do-it look, so he kinda had to follow through now. 

“You know how there were rumors a while ago that I had a girlfriend?” he asked, and, Ancients, did his voice have to crack on that last word? His parents were still waiting for him to get to the point.

“Yes, sweetie?” his mom prompted, her violet eyes shining with feigned nonchalance as she picked at her plate. At least she was pretending to be casual; his dad was openly staring at him again. He inwardly cringed, remembering the last time his dad thought he had a girlfriend.

He coughed and started rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, well,” Why did it have to be so embarrassing to tell your parents about your love life! “There’s this girl, you know. And she’s super kickass and fiery but also determined and loyal and compassionate? Uh, sorry, you already know her–”

Suddenly his dad clapped him on the back with enough force, ghost-enhanced physique or not, to nearly make him faceplant into his mashed potatoes. “No need to be so embarrassed, Danny-boy! We already know that you’re dating the Red Huntress!” his dad bellowed.

What.

“Yes,” his mom said curtly, “we do.”

Danny sent a look Jazz’s way that was more a cry for help than anything else, but she was just as bewildered. Their mom sighed. 

“After ghost fights,” she said, “Jack and I still hang around the area just to collect extra samples or run a few numbers while the ectoplasm’s still fresh. But we also see you there, sweetie, talking with the Red Huntress or even riding around with her on her board going who-knows-where.”

Danny’s brain was short-circuiting. He was half tempted to check if dinner had been contaminated with ectoplasm, after all. 

The reason he was hanging around with Val after ghost fights was because he had fought alongside her during the fight. And somehow, instead of figuring out his identity, his parents… figured out his love life? Sort of? He wanted to think it was a stroke of good luck, or - more likely - another case of his bad luck to be added to the file. How was he supposed to explain that he’s dating Valerie Gray, who was definitely not a vigilante ghost hunter, without giving away that he was definitely not a half-ghost vigilante ghost hunter, too? He got a feeling that Clockwork was laughing at his pain.

“What?” he says a bit too cheerfully, “No -pfft- come on, I’m not dating some masked ghost hunter! I was just there after ghost fights because, uh…”

His dad guffawed before slapping him on the back again. “You’re a riot, son! Maddie and I once saw you exit a janitor’s closet in your school after a fight with ol’ Red, the both of you looking pretty flustered.” The big man was waggling his eyebrows at Danny. 

Danny wanted to phase through his chair and into the floor.

“Of course, we all know that proximity to ghosts and ghost fights is very dangerous,” his mom was all business. “If that girl is putting you at risk, sweetie, we’re going to need to have a very long talk with her. And you’ll need more combat lessons!” she added cheerfully. “I know you’re afraid of the ghosts, but if this relationship is turning your interests toward them, then…!”

And that was when Jazz intervened. “Mom, Dad! You’re embarrassing him, look!” She went on, “This is not the kind of conversation that is conducive to a healthy psyche, especially not when the subject is so touchy among boys his age. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wants to leave the scenario you’ve created.”

He so owed her. “Yep! I’ll be going now, bye.” And if he used a little of his ghostly speed to get out of the dining room and up the stairs faster, no one would know. Except for Clockwork. 

Clockwork was definitely laughing at him.

–

Danny started eavesdropping, invisible outside his parents’ door, in time to hear his dad sigh loudly with relief. 

“I told you he couldn’t be dating Valerie, Maddie! The girl’s way out of his league!”

Danny had to hold back a scoff. Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad. 

“And the Red Huntress isn’t?” his mom challenged. 

Danny pouted. Et tu, Mom? (Aha! A Shakespeare reference. He was so going to actually get higher than a passing grade this semester.) He was so tempted to barge in and loudly declare that he was, in fact, dating both of those girls. That girl. He sighed. There’s the problem. 

“Even if she is his age - and so help me if she’s older - we’ve seen them meet up before and after ghost fights!” He could hear his mom’s light footsteps as she paced the length of the room. “What happens when ‘before’ or ‘after’ becomes ‘during’? You’ve seen how aggressive she is sometimes! She puts him in danger!”

Danny heard the creaking of a bed as his dad flopped down onto it with a sigh. “She’s probably swept him off his feet, too.” Okay, so maybe Val has rescued him a few times, even carried him bridal style once, but he’s saved her, too!

His dad continued, regardless of Danny’s wounded pride, “I know how hard it is to resist a force of a woman.” 

Danny’s thoughts came to a halt. What was with that tone…

He heard the shuffling of sheets. “Speaking from experience, are we?” his mom asked with a chuckle. 

“You’d know it, you were there,” his dad replied - and nope! That was about enough for Danny. He was glad his parents had a happy marriage but he did not need to hear how happy it was. 

He retreated to his room, head buzzing with the mess he and Val had gotten themselves into. 

Crud.

–

Danny had been trying for a week. 

He’d flunked his English paper (the assignment wasn’t about Caesar, go figure), and he’d been dodging Valerie all week. A few months ago, he would’ve meant dodging her blasts and hits, but now he meant trying to get out of hanging out with her or - Ancients forbid - having her come to his house. It also meant that by virtue of not wanting to make Valerie feel like she was being excluded, he couldn’t have Sam or Tucker over, either. He was starting to lose his mind all alone in the house. And no, he was not going to Jazz for help about it.

Look, it was an embarrassing problem, okay? His parents disapproved of the relationship they thought he had with the ghost-fighting alter ego of his girlfriend because they thought it was reckless and put him in danger. And they knew about it because they’d basically walked in on their more… private moments. Letting them actually meet with Red and lecturing her on how to properly protect him and save him like the damsel in distress they thought he was for being so afraid of ghosts this whole time was a total no-go - he’d never hear the end of from Val!

He was trying to figure out why this whole situation felt so familiar when Jazz walked in on him pacing the length of his room. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. “Can it. I don’t wanna hear it, Jazz.”

She pouted a little at that, then huffed. “If you’re not going to listen to my advice about healthy communication in all relationships in your life, just let me say that our parents are stubborn to a fault. If they latch onto an idea, they need solid proof to discount it.” She shot him A Look. “You know that better than anyone.”

She turned on her heel with a little ‘harrumph!’ and disappeared from his doorway, her orange hair swinging as she went. 

Danny sighed, and tried to get back into brainstorming convincing arguments against his parents. He’d tried to completely deny that anything had happened between him and the Red Huntress, claiming that in this freaky town, it could’ve been ghosts! (You know, the ol’ reliable). He’d told them that at most, the Red Huntress was just a friend. Then his dad started to ask him why he blushed whenever they brought it up and started to tease him and… he lost that argument pretty soon after. He went for a partial denial after that one. He wasn’t dating the Red Huntress, they’d just made out a couple of times. Sort of like a fakeout-makeout, even. That one made his parents angry. “Son,”  his dad had said with a distinct tone of fatherly disappointment, “I did not raise you to play with people’s feelings. If you’re not dating the Huntress, then–” “Just kidding! Haha, I meant that we weren’t dating at the time! Wait. I mean, we’re not dating!” Danny resisted the urge to put his head in his hands. That went well. He’d even considered outright telling them that he was dating Valerie and showing them proof, but he shut that idea down. What if they thought he was a two-timer (ugh.). What if they put two and two together for once and figured out that she was the Red Huntress? And he didn’t want to drag Valerie as proof over just to have her watch him either be very awkward with his parents or argue with them. Valerie had too much on her plate for her to be wasting her time in his family drama.

Wait, what was it that Jazz had said about ‘proof’? That his parents were stubborn and needed it to be convinced of something. Well, duh. They were scientists. Sure, though they had definitely dropped the idea a while ago, they used to be extremely biased against ghosts. They held onto the idea that all ghosts were evil so stubbornly that Danny was legit afraid to be around them in the beginning. At least they’d warmed up to Phantom lately. 

But what proof did his parents need? They actually had too much proof on their side, evidence that Danny couldn’t refute. 

Something green glinted in his peripheral vision, His head whipped around to look at it, and he found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror. In his stress, his eyes had turned that otherworldly green, a shade that seemed so out of place with his regular complexion and black hair. 

Oh, right. There was something else that his parents were being stubborn about. 

(Maybe it was related? Jazz could look into their family’s seemingly genetic stubbornness, but – she probably already has several papers on it.) 

He sighed. He didn’t need to convince his family that he was dating Valerie, not the Red Huntress (because, hey, they were right for once. Sort of. And he didn’t want to ask Val to fake-date him or something, it’d just be too complicated). He needed proof to convince them that dating her was not putting him at risk.

He ran a hand across his face, and in the reflection he could see that his eyes had smoothly transitioned from green back to blue. He sighed. He was going to need to ask his sister for advice on this one.

–

Danny waited until the last second to dodge a glowing green ghostly cube of doom, stepping nonchalantly to the side in midair and watching the Box Ghost’s frustrated reaction with smug satisfaction. But he’s not ignoring the guy just to mess with him. He was just focused on someone else.

“Red!” he hissed. Normally, he’d love to just watch her during combat, because in the fruitloop’s words, she really was good at this, but he needed to talk to her. They were flying higher than some of the buildings around, but his parents were directly beneath them and for all he knew, they’d made a Ghost-Whisper-Detector-Inator or something. 

“Oh, so now you wanna talk!” she replied, the distortion from her helmet making her voice sound more metallic and making her angry tone all the more sharp and unsettling. She grunted as she hefted one of her heavier canons onto her shoulder before taking a shot at the Box Ghost. Danny winced as the projectile hit its mark directly and the poor guy got launched a couple blocks down the road. The two of them sped toward where he’d crashed into a wall and blocked his exits, one of them on either side of him. It was way overkill and the Red Huntress was clearly fuming, but Danny couldn’t resist saying, “Guess you could say we boxed him in.”

He couldn’t tell if the groan that came from the Box Ghost was a result of his injuries or Danny’s pun. 

Red came closer, pressing a finger to his chest. “I’m about ready to box your hide–” 

Danny’s voice cracked as he interrupted her, “Yep! So, can we have this little lovers’ spat over there,” he pointed at a nearby rooftop that was just tall enough to give them some privacy from people on the street, “you know, where my parents won’t see?” He put his hands in the air as he floated away slowly, toward that rooftop. Behind him, he heard Red huff before the telltale humming of her board followed him there. 

As soon as they alighted on the roof, the Red Huntress stored her board away and took off her helmet. Valerie’s long, brown curls billowed in the wind and Danny tried not to stare. The whole Technus-enhanced suit she used to have was cool and all, but it was a little creepy, especially since Technus had been so… involved in their first relationship. He much preferred this suit, made by Tucker and the rest of the team using both Vladco and Fenton Works tech. She crossed her arms. “Start talking, Ghost-boy.”

Danny blinked. That took him back to the good ol’ days of when she was trying to kill him - was he sure Clockwork wasn’t messing with the timestream or something? 

“Right,” he started, “So, sorry for ghosting you this past week.” His eyes widened in alarm. “Pun not intended, pun not intended!” 

She just scoffed and muttered under her breath, “Yeah, right.” But some of the tension left her shoulders, and he could tell that she was holding back a smile. He took it as a sign to continue. He’d been trying to figure out the best way to explain the whole thing, but in the end he just said, “My parents think you and I are dating.”

She cocked an eyebrow at that. “And is that the problem?”

“Sort of.” He reached for her helmet. “You see, they think you,” he gestured to the red helmet in his hands, “are dating me,” he quickly transformed and gestured to his human self. “They think you’re putting me in danger,” he sighed, handing the helmet back to her.

Valerie took the helmet back and his words in slowly. Then she burst into laughter. “They think that I,” she said in between chuckles, “am putting Danny ‘Protector of Amity Park’ and ‘Heir to the Ghost Throne’ Phantom in danger?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Danny groaned. He knew it. He was never going to hear the end of this. She was going to tell the rest of the gang using the groupchat that he was definitely not a part of. 

“So that’s why they’ve been chasing me down all week, too,” she added, calming down.

“They’ve been what?” Danny felt a sudden wave of guilt wash over him. He’d been so caught up with trying to keep Valerie free from the stress that his family was causing him that he hadn’t even bothered to check in with her.

She shrugged. “Guess their shouts of ‘Something something my son!’ and ‘Stay away!’ make a lot more sense now. For a moment there, I thought they were tryna run me outta town.” She looked him in the eye. “Is that what it was like for you, y’know,” she said quietly, “before?”

Danny stepped closer to her, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorta.” He held her hands through her suit’s gloves and was happy to feel her give him a returning squeeze. “But that was before, and my parents have been harassing you all week. Are you okay?” “They’ve been harassing both of us all week and we just didn’t know it,” she chuckled. “What idiots. I just missed you, is all.”

He sighed. Jazz was right (Jazz was always right), if he’d just communicated with his relationships or something… “Sorry,” he said again. She just nodded. 

“So, what’s your plan?”

–

“You sure you’re okay with telling my parents?” “Oh, yeah, it’s totally fine.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s not like you already revealed my secret identity to my dad and got me in a lot of trouble.”

“Hey!” he protested. “It was one time…” he added guiltily, rubbing the back of his neck.

She grinned and punched his arm playfully. “I know, I know. Not like I didn’t deserve it.” 

He frowned a little. That was true, but he still felt like the action had crossed a line. If anyone knew the importance of a secret identity, it would be him. He reached for her hand and she accepted the gesture, holding his hand as they walked to the edge of the roof. “True,” he said. “You used to be pretty morally Gray.”

“You are lucky I love you, Fenton.”

He stopped just short of being visible to those on the ground and gaped at her. She was shorter than him, but she stood tall with all her confidence and an expectant smirk. There was a challenge in her eyes, even if maybe the effect was kinda thrown off by the blush on her cheeks.

“I love you, too,” he said, and she rolled her eyes as if to say ‘duh.’ “And I love that you won’t whoop my ass in front of my parents? Unless, uh, you wanna show me all fifty shades–”

Valerie pressed a quick kiss to his lips before he could finish that sentence. “I love you, but that won’t help you if I hear the end of that sentence.” Helmet back on, she pulled him by the scruff of his shirt and yanked him onto her board before launching them both off the edge toward his parents. 

“There she is, Maddie! And Danny-boy’s here, too?”

“Red Huntress! Be careful with my son!”

Red guided the board smoothly over until they arrived in front of his parents. 

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” his mom greeted him as soon as he and Valerie stepped onto the street, “we already dealt with the Box Ghost that Phantom just left for us.”

“Now, Maddie,” his dad interjected. “The Box Ghost is small fry! Phantom trusts us with that kind of thing.” “I suppose you’re right,” she conceded with a sigh. And– Danny knew that this truce was the longest one that had ever lasted between Phantom and his parents, and he knew that Jazz had beaten the anti-ghost bias out of them a long time ago, but hearing the way they were so quick to defend and accept his alter ego now was still jarring. In all this time, even if he didn’t realize it, he was already a lot more relaxed about his identity, not caring if he let something suspicious slip or sometimes even being careless on purpose. It’s just that his parents were too stubborn to see it.

“Speaking of the Ghost-boy,” his dad continued, “where’d he go?”

“We’ll deal with that in a sec,” Danny dismissed easily. He gestured to the Huntress behind him. She stepped forward as confident as ever, her hand outstretched for a handshake. “Mom, Dad, this is my girlfriend, the Red Huntress.” He watched as his mom accepted the gesture easily, though somewhat stiffly, while his dad’s handshake threatened to pull Red off her feet. “But you also know her from somewhere else.”

On cue, his girlfriend took off her helmet, and Danny continued despite his parents’ shocked gasps, “Val, these are my parents.”

His dad was the first to speak up. “Damon’s girl?” He chuckled with delight. “I knew you were out of Danny’s league!”

“Hey!” he started, but Valerie spoke up for him instead. “If anything, Mr. Fenton, your son’s too good for me,” she said, looking back at him with big, green eyes. He shook his head at her, and put a hand on her shoulder. 

“You can call him, Jack, dear,” his mom said. She’d taken off her hood and goggles and she was smiling softly at the two of them. “And I’m Maddie. It’s nice to really meet you.”

Danny and Valerie smiled at each other. “It’s good that I can tie a face that I trust to your girlfriend, Danny,” his mom said. “But! That doesn’t mean that she can take you around with her to ghost fights if we don’t set some ground rules first.” The older woman turned to Valerie. “I know you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, but poor Danny’s been afraid of his own shadow since the ghost portal went up, you see.” Danny’s dad nodded. “Gotta make sure our boy is looked after!”

“Actually,” Danny butt in, “I can take care of myself.” His parents went quiet and looked at each other. His heart was pounding.

“It’s good to be confident, Danno! But–”

“No ‘buts’, Dad. I haven’t been completely honest with you guys, and it’s not fair to ask Val to reveal her identity when my reveal is way overdue.” He looked down at the street, missing  the way his mother’s hand traveled to her mouth and his dad’s jaw was set with knowing determination. Valerie’s hand found his and squeezed it reassuringly. He took a deep breath. 

The rings of his transformation glided smoothly over his form. When he opened his eyes to look at his parents, he tensed for just a moment as his vision was filled with the sight of the two of them barrelling toward him. But then they both crushed him in a hug, and all the tension left his shoulders. Even Val was squished in here with him and he laughed wetly. “I guess you guys finally caught the Ghost-boy, huh? Guess you weren’t ex-specter that one!” Then everyone groaned. 

After a while, they all pulled away. 

“Don’t think we won’t be having talks about all of,” his mom gestured vaguely to him, then to themselves, “this.”

“Oh, sonny, there’ll be a lot of talking to do.” The man looked to his wife. “And I’m going to have to edit the ‘birds and the bees’ spiel a bit, eh? We gotta take into account all your ghostly biology, after all!” 

“My ghostly…” Danny turned as green as ectoplasm. Val was as red as her suit.

“Dad!” he whined, making his parents chuckle. 

It wasn’t perfect, but, eh. They’d figure it out.

–

“So, how did you end up thinking that Danny was dating the Red Huntress?” Valerie asked, and Danny choked on his mom’s mac and cheese. He glared at Jazz from across the table, and she tried her best to stifle a laugh. 

“Well…” his mom started, looking at her husband with a knowing smirk on her face. 

“Mom!” he said, accidentally flashing his eyes green. 

“No ghost powers at the table, sweetie,” she replied without missing a beat. He huffed and sat back in his seat. He met Valerie’s eye and she had one eyebrow up in an expression that felt like she thought she should be amused, but she didn’t know why yet. Oh, she was going to regret that fast.

His dad picked up the story, “You know the janitor’s closet on the third floor of Casper High?”

[blueiscoool]

Very Rare Emperor Constantine Silver Ingots Saved From Illegal Sale

A man allegedly tried to illegally sell three rare Roman-era silver ingots that his great-grandmother reportedly found in her garden years ago.

Three "truly sensational" Roman-era silver ingots depicting Constantine the Great were nearly sold illegally on the internet, a new investigation finds.

An unnamed man alleged that his great-grandmother found the rare artifacts buried in the family's backyard in Transcarpathia (also known as Zakarpattia), a region in western Ukraine. Later, the man reportedly tried to sell one of the silver bars online, according to Public Uzhgorod, Ukraine's public broadcast station.

However, officials from the museum intervened by reporting the attempted illegal sale to local law enforcement. When officers searched the home, they discovered two additional ingots. Because the ingots have "special cultural value," Ukraine's Office of the Prosecutor General has taken over the case, according to a translated statement from the National Museum of the History of Ukraine in Kyiv.

Each of the metal blocks, which are almost entirely pure silver, weighs more than 12 ounces (342 grams) and contains a coin-shaped impression of Emperor Constantine the Great on each side, according to the statement. Constantine, who ruled from A.D. 306 to 337, is known for ushering Christianity into the Roman Empire and moving his capital to "New Rome," which later became Constantinople (modern-day Istanbul).

The ingots would have been used during the minting process to strike coins known as siliquae. The coins with Constantine's likeness would have been issued between A.D. 310 and 313 in Augusta Treverorum, a Roman city that today is Trier, Germany. At one time, the pieces would have been batched together with a thin, silver ribbon, which has since been lost, according to the statement.

"Three ingots fastened together were supposed to be a gift for a very high-ranking person," Maksym Levada, a curator at the museum, said in the statement. "The fact that they were found outside the Roman Empire on the territory of modern Ukraine makes them an invaluable source of our past."

Experts estimate the treasure's value at 3.5 million Ukrainian hryvnia, or about $84,800.

"But what makes them unique is not the cost, but the fact that only a few similar ingots have been found in Europe to date," Andriy Kostin, Ukraine's prosecutor general, said in the statement.

There are about 90 known Roman silver ingots in existence today, with only 11 containing mint stamp impressions, making the three ingots' recovery even rarer, according to the statement.

Kyrylo Myzgin, an archaeologist and faculty member at the University of Warsaw who initially examined the ingots, said in an email that the finding "can be considered truly sensational."

"It is excellent news that they ended up in a museum rather than on the black market for antiquities," Myzgin said. "Roman silver ingots with coin die imprints are incredibl\y rare and were virtually unknown outside the Roman Empire. It is likely that these ingots reached the territory of what is now western Ukraine as a result of interactions between the local population — possibly Germanic tribes or Dacians [people in what is now largely modern-day Romania] — and the Roman Empire in the early 4th century. However, the exact nature of these interactions has yet to be determined."

The ingots are now on display in the museum's "Salvated Treasures" exhibition, which contains a collection of rescued artifacts.

By Jennifer Nalewicki.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

matt and reader are really good friends and one day reader finally asks matt out and he says yes but then a case or daredeviling runs late and reader ignores him for the week because he stood her up but with a happy ending??

omg I love this sm! thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

rooftop apologies (Matt x f reader)

wc || 1.4k

warnings || don’t think there are any

masterlist + rules

taglist

You and Matt have been great friends ever since college, your friendship has always been something you valued deeply- just a fun and genuine connection.

You, Matt, Foggy and Karen were having a friend's night at Matt’s apartment, all exchanging funny stories while you shared Chinese food.

“Who wants the last spring roll? It’ll have to go in the trash if no one claims it.” Foggy said while shaking the box as if to tempt you all.

“I can’t- I’m full.” Karen sighed as she leaned back into the sofa.

“No- no, get that away.” You swatted the box, not able to manage another bite.

“Well, if no one else does.” Matt responds, digging his chopsticks into the container.

“I actually should be going… I have a meeting with Ellison early in the morning.” Karen says, sitting up straight.

“I really should too, got a big case coming up.” Foggy says with a sigh.

You all said your goodbyes, hugging each other before parting. Foggy and Karen got a taxi together, but you stayed behind to help Matt clean.

“No leave that, I’ll do it in the morning.” Matt says walking over to you in the kitchen.

“It’s okay, I’m nearly finished anyway.” Placing the clean dishes on the rack. “It’s a ‘thank you’ for paying my part of dinner.” You joke.

“I didn’t- oh.” Chuckling as he got a beer from the fridge. “Okay, yeah I can deal with that.” Uncapping the bottle, taking a sip as he rested against the worktop.

“Just messing with you, but these are finally done… need any other help?” Drying your hands as you looked around his apartment.

“No no- you’ve done more than enough, thank you.” Smiling at you as he rested his chin on the top of the glass bottle.

“Okay, I’ll get out your hair.” You say excusing yourself.

“You sure? We can sit on the roof, like old times?” He sweetly offers.

“I’d love to, but I have an early shift tomorrow.” You lied as you picked up your bag. You wanted to stay but whenever it was just you two, you felt like you were going to blurt out the thing you were trying to hide from him. Or that he’d figure out you were hiding something by listening to the way your heart pumped wildly.

“That’s okay, maybe next time.” He kindly reassures with a smile.

Putting on your shoes and coat, walking to the front door with Matt tailing close behind. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you turn around to face him. “Hey, Matt?” You slowly start.

“Yeah.” Matching his tone with yours.

“Would you maybe like to go out sometime?” You ask with help from liquid courage.

“Like uh- like a date?” He smiles.

“Um- yeah, but it doesn’t have to be.” Feeling flustered.

“I’d love to. How about Friday at seven? I’ll pick you up.”

“Perfect. Great, okay, uh- see you soon.” Kissing his cheek goodbye as you left. 

Exiting the building, you look up to see Matt perched at the edge of the rooftop. Even though you live in the next block over, he keeps a lookout for you- always making sure you get home safely. He doesn’t know that you know about it, and you liked to keep it that way.

//

Three days had passed since you asked out Matt and it’s now finally Friday. Shrieking out of excitement while you got ready, telling yourself to calm down as you finished off the last touches. You’ve been looking forward to this day for years. You had always had a crush on Matt, but you’d dare say anything about it- hating the possibility of ruining your friendship.

Checking your phone to see that it was five past seven, it’s okay it’s only been five minutes, he’ll be here soon.

Slipping on your shoes and spritzing a few pumps of perfume, deciding to wait patiently by the front door.

What’s keeping him? You thought to yourself, taking your phone out from your bag to see that it’s now twenty past seven. He’s usually very punctual, so his lateness started to worry you.

Even more time passed and you felt your heart begin to sink. He’s not standing you up, right? Right? Slumping into your armchair as your feet began to ache, standing on them too long.

Pulling out your phone once more, noticing that it’s seven forty-eight. Deciding to call, in case he forgot or was lost. You knew deep down he couldn’t be lost, but you just told yourself that to make you feel better, not wanting to think about the possibility of him forgetting.

It went straight to voicemail, so you flung your phone into the sofa out of frustration.

Why is he so late?

Your phone dinged, immediately running over to check it, almost tripping on the rug in the process. Disappointment arose, looking at the text from Pizza Hut. Not who you wanted it to be.

Another hour had gone and it made your chest crumble. It forced you to think about the possibility that he wasn’t coming. Ringing him again, but having no success.

Whipping out your phone again, going onto contacts. Calling Pizza Hut and ordering the deal you had received earlier on. Changing into your loungewear as you waited for your food to arrive. Flicking through your tv, trying to find something good to watch- urgently wanting to distract yourself.

You ate your pizza in almost darkness sitting on your living room floor. Laying down flat against the floor mumbling to yourself. It’s nearly ten and you felt disappointed.

Deciding to call it an early night, you got ready for bed, removing the makeup that you had spent an hour doing. Climbing into bed, you couldn’t be bothered to brush your teeth, you just wanted to sleep.

Rolling over to see the alarm clock on your nightstand, obnoxiously showing you the time.

Several loud knocks come from your door, startling you awake. Sluggishly walking towards it, looking through the peephole.

Sadly smiling when you saw a disheveled-looking Matt. Reluctantly opening it, holding it closed as you spoke to him through the gap.

“Hi.” You grumbled.

“I’m sorry- I’m so so sorry! My case ran over and I had to chase after some people. I’m so sorry.”

“Why didn’t you call?” You mumbled, trying to hide your sadness.

“It was in my pocket while I was fighting, it got stood on. Please can you forgive me?” He gushed, smiling at you apologetically.

“… I don’t know. I’ll just talk to you later. Be careful.” You softly say as you closed the door.

“I’m sorry.” His saddened voice echoed through the door.

You were just hurt for now, you just wanted to sleep it off.

//

A week had passed since Matt ‘stood you up’, he had called you plenty- but you only answered a couple times, keeping the conversation light and airy.

You knew he was sorry, you just felt silly for admitting your interest in him when it didn’t feel reciprocated properly.

Your phone rang, pulling out to see Matt’s name lighting up the screen. Something inside you screamed for you to answer, and so you did. Answering and putting it to your ear.

“Hey! Angel, thank you for answering. I need you to do something for me, please. Can you go up to your rooftop?”

“Why?” You asked slowly.

“Please just do it, and bring a coat.” He said cheerfully before ending the call.

Making your way up to the roof, looking around feeling confused.

“Hey, over here.” Matt shouted. “Watch your step.”

“What’s going on?” You asked as you walked over to him.

He was sitting on a picnic blanket with your favourite flowers in his hand. A few candles lit up to display a variety of snacks spread out across the blanket. You were glad you brought a coat, the New York midnight air already chilling your bones.

“What’s this for?” You questioned, trying to hide the excitement in your voice.

“An apology and hopefully a date. I’m so sorry about last week, I really am.” He softly coos.

“I know you are, it’s okay.” Taking a seat next to him on the blanket.

“Can I tell you something?” He chirps.

“Of course.” You beam while you chewed a couple grapes.

“I’ve been in love with you since I first met you.” Grinning at you.

Your ears pulled back as your lips tugged up into a wide smile. “So have I… I’ve loved you for years.” You finally admit.

Spending the rest of the night cuddling together on the blanket, listening to all the strange and comforting sounds from the city.

[stargazer-sims]

The Art of Redemption

(part 14)

previous // next // story index

—————

Eden's cousin leaves halfway through the group class.

For students Eden's age, most of the caregivers don't hang around to watch the class. Stan's grandson Marek and three little girls Nikolai doesn't know are also in the class and they don't have any adult caregivers present either, so Eden being there without an adult family member isn't odd from Nikolai's point of view. It's the fact that the cousin would just get up and disappear before class was over that unsettles him, particularly because now class actually is over and another one will be starting soon, and there's no sign of anyone coming to collect Eden.

For his part, Eden doesn't seem bothered. Once he has his skates off, he happily climbs onto the bench and plops himself down next to Nikolai with a cheerful, "So, what did you think? Everybody in our class is really good, right?"

Eden is so tiny, the toes of his boots aren't touching the floor, and Nikolai has to remind himself that the boy is only a few months away from turning eleven. He smiles. "Everyone in your class is really good, but I'd say you and that red-haired girl are the best."

"Oh, that's Everleigh," Eden says. "She totally is the best. She wants to do pairs when she gets older, and she has a big crush on my friend Marek, but he thinks girls are gross. I like girls, but sometimes I think I like boys too, but actually I don't want to date anybody because I have to think about my career first. Are you dating anybody?"

"That's a lot, Eden. Are you always this talkative?"

"No," Eden says, casually swinging his little legs. "But, I like you."

"To answer your question, I'm not dating anybody. I'm married."

Eden nods sagely. "My dad says marriage is sacred, but I don't know about that. I think it just means you have to pay a lot of bills and complain about things like having to change the oil in your car or somebody leaving wet towels on the bathroom floor."

Nikolai laughs. "Not going to lie, I like your definition better. It's more accurate, from my experience."

"Does your wife complain about you leaving towels on the floor?"

"Yeah, and sometimes I complain about her doing it too. She complains about my cat shedding, and I complain about how long it takes her to get ready to go anywhere."

His and Anya's problems aren't nearly that trivial or innocent, but he's not about to tell a ten year old child that his marriage is in shambles and he's all but made up his mind to ask his wife to agree to a divorce. This is assuming he can work up the courage, of course. He doubts Anya will make it easy for him in any case, and he's not looking forward to the confrontation.

"I'm never getting married," Eden declares.

"Good choice," says Nikolai.

"Yeah. Yi-Joon says I'm probably going to be too high-maintenance for anyone to handle anyway, but y'know what? I'm okay with that."

"Yi-Joon?" Nikolai inquires.

"My stupid cousin," Eden clarifies. "He came here from South Korea last summer to stay with us for a year and learn English. He's so annoying. All he does besides go to language school is watch K-dramas and talk to girls on the phone and go to expensive coffee places. I don't think he even likes sports."

"We aren't all going to like the same things," Nikolai says. "Life would be kind of boring if we were all into the same stuff, don't you think? Our differences are what make us interesting."

"Maybe, if people respected what other people were into."

"Do you respect what your cousin is into?"

"He can like K-dramas if he wants to. I don't like them, but I don't try to stop him from watching them, and I don't make fun of him for it."

"That's all anyone should reasonably ask for."

"I think so too, but it's like I'm asking too much when I want people to respect what I like. I want Yi-Joon to stop making fun of me about skating. And my parents... they don't even get that It's not just a hobby. I really want to do this. Like, to be a real athlete."

"You want to know something?" Nikolai says. "My parents don't get it either. They've always supported me, but I'm not sure they've ever really understood my love for skating."

"At least they supported you," says Eden. "My parents want me to stop skating."

"Yeah, so I heard."

Nikolai glances down at the ice, where Beth-Anne has just returned and is now setting up her orange cones for the next class, which is a group of preschoolers. A different group than the one Gabriel Torres is in, he'd learned. Beth-Anne has two preschool groups, and this morning on the way to the rink she told him she's hoping that he'll be able to take over teaching one of them by autumn. He wonders if he will be.

"You know what I'm worried about?" Eden is saying.

"What is it?"

"I'm a kid. I'm not allowed to decide anything important. If my parents decide I have to stop skating, I'm gonna have to, and by the time I'm old enough to decide anything for myself, it's gonna be too late." He sighs, sounding far older than his ten years. "If Beth-Anne can't make them understand, my dream is basically dead. My parents are gonna kill it, and if that happens I don't know what I'm going to do with my life."

There are probably a thousand different responses Nikolai could make to this. He could say there's life beyond skating and that Eden's too young to stress about what to do with the rest of his life, or he could just offer some platitude about trying not to worry. But, he realizes he doesn't want to say any of that, because Eden is right.

If Eden's parents make him quit skating now, by the time he has the autonomy to make his own choices, it will be too late to be competitive in the way he clearly wants to be. Nikolai recognizes Eden's passion for the sport and his drive to succeed. It's the same energy and intensity Nikolai had; the same obsession that carried him to six top-three finishes at the World Championships, to his three Worlds gold medals, right up to the moment when he crash-landed in Taiwan.

No, it didn't end there, whispers a small, insistent voice in his mind. You still love the sport that much, and you can still succeed in it, just in a different way.

He turns to fully face Eden, who's starting up at him expectantly. "You know how I said I'd like to be your coach some day?"

"Yeah," Eden says.

"I meant that."

"I believed you," Eden tells him. "But, what's that got to do with my future if my parents make me give up skating? If I'm not skating, what'll I need a coach for?"

"Exactly," Nikolai says.

Eden looks perplexed. "This isn't helping."

"Don't worry," Nikolai says. "I am going to help you."

"How?"

"Your parents are worried about you getting hurt, aren't they?"

"Yeah," Eden confirms. "Like, all of a sudden, for some reason. It's not like I just started doing jumps or something. I could do a waltz jump when I was six and I did my first single jump when I was seven, and I fell loads of times before I got it right. My parents have seen me fall a bunch of times, but they never seemed too worried about it until this January or so."

"Maybe because it never occurred to them before that a fall could completely change your life."

"What do you mean?"

Nikolai gestures down at his leg. "I mean, it could literally change your life. I'm never going to compete again because I seriously hurt myself when fell at the Four Continents back in January."

"Wait..." Eden frowns, his delicate brows scrunching together in concentration. "You got hurt in January? Do you think my parents know anything about that?"

"I don't know," Nikolai says. "Your parents and I have never met. Do they watch competitions on TV or read sports news online?"

"They watch competitions with me sometimes, but I don't know if they watch stuff by themselves or look at anything on the internet. But... you don't think they're trying to make me stop skating because one person they don't even know got hurt, do you? 'Cause like, that's kind of stupid."

"To tell you the truth, I have no idea why they're trying to make you stop," Nikolai admits. "All I know is, somebody has to convince them that it's not a good idea."

"Somebody... like you?"

"Yeah, that's kind of what I had in mind."

"Really? You'd really do that for me? You don't even know me very well yet."

"Not yet, but I'd like us to get to know each other. Besides, you've got way too much talent to throw away your opportunities. Plus, I've seen you on the ice and it doesn't take a genius to know how happy you are when you're skating and how much you love it."

"I do love it," Eden says. "If skating was a person, I'd probably marry it."

"I thought you said you're not getting married."

"I'd make an exception for skating," Eden says. "You know, 'cause I'd want us to live happily ever after with all our medals."

"And you wouldn't complain about wet towels on the floor, or damp, stinky skate stockings?"

Eden giggles. "Maybe a little bit about the stockings. They do get pretty gross. Beth-Anne says when I get a little older, I won't have to wear them any more. She says I can just put my bare feet in my skates if I want to."

"That's pretty gross too, honestly," Nikolai says. "Trust me, I know. But, you'll be able to feel your edges better with nothing on your feet. That'll be important when you start competing."

"If I start competing."

"When," Nikolai repeats.

Eden hesitates for a beat, but then looks up to meet Nikolai's eyes and echoes. "When."

"Good," Nikolai praises him. "You have to believe in getting what you want. That's part of how you succeed."

"You're already coaching me," Eden says, sounding a little amazed. "You really did mean it."

"I'm not..." Nikolai begins, but then quickly realizes Eden isn't wrong.

How many talks has he had with Stan and Beth-Anne over the years about things only tangentially related to skating? Coaching is more than helping an athlete perfect his technical skills. It's also about helping him with his self-confidence and his overall attitude. It's about being a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, a teacher about life as well as sport, a mentor, a confidant, a friend, and sometimes a disciplinarian. Beth-Anne has done all that for him and she's still doing it, and the thought that he's already able to pay her kindness and wisdom forward fills him with an emotion that feels like a mixture of astonishment and pride.

He smiles and offers, "You know what they say. Practice makes perfect."

Eden returns the smile. "I think you're going to be a super great coach, Nikolai."

"Thanks," he says.

"When my parents come to pick me up, you should tell them you're going to be my coach."

"I don't think—"

"Yeah, you should! You want to do it, and you said it's important to believe in getting what you want."

Nikolai grins. "So, you're obviously paying attention."

"I'm a great student," Eden says. "Anyway, the way I see it, you can't be a coach without a student, and Beth-Anne already said I'm gonna need a different coach when I get to Junior division, so I think we have to help each other get what we want."

"Okay," Nikolai says. "I'll talk to your parents when they come to get you, but maybe leave the strategy to me for now, all right?"

"Okay," Eden agrees. "This has got to work, though! With you and Beth-Anne both talking to them, they have to change their minds!"

Nikolai has to concede that Eden's enthusiasm is infectious, and he wants to be as optimistic as his potential future student, but he has the unfortunate reality of experience looming over his shoulder. He hopes the parents can be convinced to let their son continue skating, but he's enough of a realist to know that it may take more than the opinion of a stranger to sway them.

"Like I said before," he tells Eden. "I can't make any promises beyond promising to do my best."

Eden reaches over and pats his hand. "I believe in you."

Unexpectedly, Nikolai feels a lump in his throat. He barely knows this kid, but for some reason he already feels a connection with him.

Is this how Beth-Anne felt about me that first day? he wonders. He files the idea away so he can ask her about it later.

His very next thought is, I cannot let this child down.

He has no clue how he's going to do it, but somehow he has to make Eden's parents understand what's at stake. It's not just competitions and medals. It's Eden's well-being, his sense of purpose. His raison d'être, as Anya's coach Isabelle might say.

Nikolai remembers how he'd felt, hearing the doctors in Taiwan saying that he'd never skate again. To say his very soul had been crushed wouldn't be enough. It'd been as if his entire world shattered into a million pieces around him. He'd barely been able to survive that, and maybe he's not completely out of the proverbial woods yet. If it's this difficult for an adult, he shudders to think of what losing something so important would do to a young boy like Eden.

And what sort of second chance would Eden get? Unlike Nikolai, he doesn't have a new opportunity waiting for him to transition into.

Nikolai recognizes he's lucky. Coaching is a natural progression for him, especially with the knowledge that he'll be able to return to the ice soon and with Beth-Anne ready and willing to train him. It all became more tangible when his doctor here told him that not only would he make a full recovery but that he'd still be able to skate. His aching heart had swelled with hope at that news.

Now, it's growing again with a new surge of determination. He wants to succeed for Eden, but even more so for himself. The future doesn't seem as bleak and scary any more, and he wants more than anything to make it evolve into a scenario in which he isn't merely settled and unafraid, but happy, thriving and fearless once again.

[jqmalikhsgib]

stars

fourteen

Meet YN Rihanna Fenty-Hotchner

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, Rihanna has been a name we’ve all heard and seen everywhere!

The thirty-five year old musician has made many of us swoon over her music, iconic fashion moments, and many many more. Now the RnB artist is venturing out to be an Entrepreneur, Wife, and Mother.

“I’ve enjoyed the music and I still enjoy writing! I just think it was time to dip my toe into the fashion world more!” Rihanna States.

Over the years she’s been through many struggles and heartbreak. Rihanna rumored to date stars like Asap Rocky, Drake, even Ashton Kutcher. But she’s found love outside of the music industry.

Rihanna and her now husband [Aaron Hotchner] have been dating in private for three years before the star announced her relationship with him nearly a year ago.

“I just thought it was time,” Umbrella star starts. “Aaron and I were in bed and I mentioned to him I was ready to let the world know about our tiny little family. He supported whatever decision I decided to make. With that I slowly introduced my husband and son to the world.

Rihanna talks more about her past relationship and her current one.

“I never actually confirmed anything to the public because it never came up with former partners. If it did, they didn’t want to tell the world we were dating. It felt like they’d be ashamed of me.” She states.

“Not gonna lie, it brought so many insecurities into my mind. Whenever Aaron and I started dating, he picked up those pieces pretty quickly. I knew he was different from that moment.”

Rihanna explains to us how she met her lovely husband.

“It was so unbelievably crazy, actually! Him and his team had just finished a case and they’d been out celebrating. It was before I made it big. Some guy was flirting and he saw I was uncomfortable and came to the rescue. Since then, I’d never looked back.”

“I think the main difference between the relationships I have with Aaron versus the relationship i had with others is his ability to read me and have patience with me. Others didn’t have that in the past. Instead they treated me like I should be lucky dating them. They made me feel like given me a chance was a privilege. Aaron’s never made me feel like he was special and he was too good for me. If anything he’s shown me we’re good for each other. And that’s why it was so easy to fall for him!”

Rihanna explains her shift in the world now being a married woman and a mom.

“I use to see the world in black and white. We have the good and the bad, bad always outweighs the good, but my husband and son have taught me that I have to look at what’s right in front of me. With my husband being out there, catching the creeps and evil men and women out there, putting them away, one less bad guy is out there. It’s always gonna be someone dangerous, but in the end one less evil roaming the streets is still worth seeing the beauty in the world.”

Rihanna talks about her new identity in the industry. “I’m still Rihanna Fenty, that will never change! But now I think I’m ready for the world to see Yn Hotchner! Wife, Mother, and Philosopher! I want the world to see who Yn is. Not just Ri.” She explains.

“Being pregnant has really opened my eyes to so many possibilities of who I can be, honestly. I have learned so much about my body and my ability as a woman! I’m still young and can have fun, but being a mom and being pregnant, it’s really brought a new light to my eyes.”

We asked her about how big she’s prepared to grow her family.

“Aaron and I want a littler of kids! My husband is a bit older than me, but he’s always planned on slowing down, having multiple little babies out there. I’ve always wanted to have a big family of my own. I’m the only child, so having lots of babies been in my deck of cards for the longest time.

We asked Rihanna [Yn] what she expects in her new career choice.

“I’m almost done with a few skin care treatments for Fenty Beauty! We’re also launching Savage x Fenty, which I believe the fans will love! And with my pregnancy and being a mom, this launch will be for all! I hope the world is ready for what’s in store for the Fenty take over.

[monikafilefan]

Jingle Bells and Jealousy 1

I realized I never shared my newest fic I wrote on Christmas Eve here. There’s 2 chapters: 1 in Mulder’s pov and 2 in Scully’s.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

Let your heart be light

From now on, our troubles will be out of sight

Mulder scoffs as he draws the final insidious lines onto the smiling image of Santa Claus in front of him.

“Better,” he chuckles wryly.

The black ballpoint’s ink bleeds through the red and white dessert plate where the now new and improved Santa stares up at him. He blows cookie crumbs and remnants of pecan pie off his paper plate to get a good look at his masterpiece. The cookies were bland, but the pie hit the spot.

He feels overdressed and uncomfortable next to coworkers in ugly Christmas sweaters surrounded by tinsel by the pound. Good pie just might be the highlight of the night, Mulder muses sourly.

In a surprising turn of events while wrapping up a post X-File department budget meeting with Skinner this morning, Scully had confirmed that, yes, she was planning to attend the Bureau’s annual Christmas party for the first time in a long time. Mulder almost laughed at her joke — seeing as how they’d both agreed years ago that holiday parties could only serve to further ridicule their spooky department of two — before Skinner boldly stated that he’d hoped to see her there with her plus one. And to Mulder’s utter shock, Scully had blushed, avoided his probing gaze, and nodded. Scully had a date? His jaw had clenched so hard his teeth hurt. From there, Mulder’s plans to spend a quiet Christmas break on his couch with his pretty partner and a carton of Beijing beef had crumbled quicker than the pie crust now littering his lap.

Through the years, we all will be together

If the fates allow

Sinatra croons about fated happiness throughout the Hoover’s reception hall as Mulder slumps further in his seat. He’s only been here a half an hour and already regrets coming. The only plus side is that Diana and Spender are out of town on a case — an X-File, and aren’t here to silently mock his bullpen misery. If Scully hadn’t dropped a last minute bomb about attending this bureaucratic shindig, he sure as hell wouldn’t have either. Should have saved himself the embarrassment, he knows. He should’ve gone for a run instead of stewing in his apartment for three hours before changing his mind and frantically dusting off his tux he didn’t need for front row seats to a waking nightmare cheerfully playing out in front of him.

He isn’t sure his heart can handle what his eyes cannot get enough of: Dana Scully is absolutely gorgeous. Though, she’s always been pretty to him. Even when she emerges from her one star motel room at five a.m., sleepy-eyed and grumpy, rolling her eyes at his new case glee, Fox Mulder is wholly enamored.

But now… Christ. It must be his sorrow kicking him while he’s down again, because Scully has never been more beautiful. The green, form fitting cashmere cardigan looks so good on her with its top two buttons undone and something red and lacy peeking out underneath. It’s festive, flirty. The fine lines of her collarbones rise and fall in time with her shoulders as she sips her wine amongst the crowd. But her luminous appearance is hardly the attribute that attracts him to his partner the most. Her mind, her stubbornness, her heart… all of her has made him fall foolishly and dangerously in love.

And she looks happy without him.

Mulder sighs, sick to his stomach. He doesn’t deserve her attention anyway. His attitude pretty much proved that in the bullpen earlier tonight…

They leave the meeting with Skinner in a blur as Mulder silently reels at the implication of Scully dating, feeling the invisible noose of self-deprecation squeezing tighter.

“I thought you were going to conveniently miss that budget meeting,” Scully comments when they enter the nearly empty bullpen. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Where you, go I go,” he casually admits, trying not to sound as possessive as he feels right now. Because it’s the truth and the promise he’d silently made on his knees as he’d sobbed by her bedside in the Oncology ward.

She huffs a laugh. “Is that an early New Year’s resolution?”

“Not really new.” Mulder flops down in his chair and contemplates further, watching her fiddling with the mess on his tiny desk. He wants to just ask if she’s seeing someone. If she’s finally gotten sick of his shit and moved on, but for the first time in his life, he isn’t sure he wants the truth. “So you’ve decided to attend the Christmas party this year?”

Scully stops stacking files of neglected background checks and gives him a meaningful look. “I have.”

“You don’t think this is just another way to punish us, or you, if you go?” He whispers while pointing a pencil toward Kersh’s office across the hall. “You know how they operate up here.”

“Does enjoying a little Christmas music and conversation really seem like discipline to you?”

“Yes,” he says immediately.

“There’s pie,” she teases, pulling his discarded invitation he never read from the recycling bin and sliding it enticingly across the desk.

As much as he is itching to know more about her party plans, playing cool, calm, and collected feels less desperate. So he feigns disinterest and shrugs, “You know I’m picky about pie.”

Scully cocks her head and crosses her arms. “There’s me.”

“And you’re standing right here like always,” he offhandedly adds, hating his forced indifference more with every dismissive word that rolls off his tongue.

“Like always,” she mumbles. And out of the corner of his eye, he sees her shoulders slump, her arms falling limply to her sides. “Where I go, you go, but not if it includes socializing above subterranean territory?”

Something about the snide way she says that irritates him. Scully’s been just as pissed off about their reassignment to shit duty as he is and has never complained about being in the bowels of the basement with him. Not once.

Whatever reign he’d had on his internal turmoil snaps.

He spins around in his chair and points the pencil at her accusingly. “Am I too much of a loner for you now, is that why you’re bringing a plus one?” he hisses. “A date?”

“Excuse me?” A wave of anger rises within her sea blue eyes. Brow arched, she opens her mouth to rip him a new one he definitely deserves, but then seemingly reconsiders within earshot of others, tilting her head instead. “So what if I am?” she prods, sharp as a scalpel.

It’s unfair, he knows. His agitation and accusation. She’s never mentioned dating anyone before. Has never given him a reason to ask if she was, but the sudden white-hot flare of jealousy in his chest hurts more than her “oh brother” response to his recent love confession than he could have imagined.

Scully is staring at him like she wants to shove him against a wall and choke him with his tie. Mulder’s gut twists.

He tosses the pencil and stands. “Scully, I’m sorr-”

She holds up a halting hand.

“I’m going to the party tonight, Mulder.” Her voice is soft, a little shaky. “With or without you.”

Before Mulder can say another word, Scully turns on her heel and walks out of the bullpen, leaving him alone with a lump in his throat.

Now, Mulder’s heart hammers in time with the beat of the “Little Drummer Boy” echoing off the Bureau’s walls.

He had thought he could handle this soul-crushing feeling of heartbreak when he’d decided to come. He’d told himself he could push his own feelings aside for Scully’s happiness and show up to prove to her he’s really not a hermit intentionally holding her back in life. To remind her that he will do any thing for her. But now, confronted with the reality of her hand caressing another man’s forearm in a room riddled with mistletoe, he finds the sight of it is like a tabloid headline at a gas station checkout people are too ashamed to buy but can’t help indulging in a quick flip-through. Goddammit! His fists clench along the snowflake tablecloth. Like a train wreck, he cannot look away.

“Devil horns on Santa Claus, Mulder?” A.D. Skinner scolds wearily from over his shoulder.

Mulder startles and tears his eyes away from the woman he loves. He should have known he couldn’t wallow at a party in peace. “It’s Krampus, sir.”

“Looks about as cheerful as you do,” Skinner retorts.

Mulder pushes his defiled plate aside. “If I hear one more song about old Saint Nick, I might stuff my ears with marshmallows.”

“As much as you may deserve it after blowing the quarterly budget; again, a party isn’t a punishment, Mulder. Even when you’re off the files.”

The increasing ache in Mulder’s chest disagrees.

“You sound like Scully.”

“Then maybe you should listen.” Skinner nods toward Scully at the opposite side of the room. She’s smiling brightly as the same good-looking agent with dark skin and a gleaming grin hands her a glass of wine. “Agent Scully seems to be enjoying herself.”

“She deserves it,” Mulder mumbles moodily, doing a piss-poor job of ignoring the green-eyed Grinch gnawing a hole in his gut. And it doesn’t make it any less true, his closest, most cherished friend deserves the best.

“She’s said the same thing about you, you know,” Skinner huffs and shakes his head. The twinkling lights decorating the reception hall reflect off his boss’s scalp like a skin-colored disco ball. “Go on, show your tux a good time. Drink some eggnog, make some bullpen buddies. You know, live a little.”

“Dunno, Skinman. Sounds like a bad idea to me.”

“Jesus, Mulder.” Skinner reaches over and snags one of the bundles of mistletoe taped to the hall’s wall and shoves it into Mulder's palm. “Here, consider it my gift to you.”

“Uh,” Mulder blinks. “You shouldn’t have, sir.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Skinner rolls his eyes and pokes at the plastic flower. “For your partner. You know, the woman who — by some miracle, insists on defending you at every turn over the last six years. The same woman I overheard decline multiple dance offers already because of you.”

“How much punch have you had, sir? Because I saw Tom Colton pour a bottle of Jim Beam in there earlier.” Still, his hopeful eyes scan the crowd in search of Scully’s beckoning ones. But her back is turned, her date brazenly tucking a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. Mulder’s heart sinks to his shoes. “She couldn’t have said that about me.”

“Does she really have to?” Skinner asks incredulously.

Mulder tsks and flicks a stray chocolate chip across the table. “Considering she’s here with someone else and has ignored me since I walked in, I’d say so.”

“Well, even I know when your partner’s annoyed with you. More than usual, anyway.” Mulder can only shrug at the big man’s statement. He’s not wrong. “You didn’t tell her you were coming, did you?”

“No, I wasn’t planning to show up at all. Not until-” Mulder stops and groans, his last vestige of hope fading faster than his will to be here.

“Until you were you and jumped to conclusions without supporting evidence? Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“The supporting evidence is currently palming my partner’s back,” Mulder grumbles under his breath as dark thoughts invade his brain. “You heard her in your office,” he says loud enough for Skinner to hear this time. “She’d planned to bring a date before I even knew she was coming.”

Skinner side eyes him. “How do you know she wasn’t talking about you?”

Mulder ponders that prospect as the festive music makes his head pound. He and Scully are in an emotional stalemate as of late. Both treading lightly, trying not to hurt each other, and he fears he's doing a shit job of it. It’s been a domino of disasters between Antarctica and his heated hallway confession, being booted from the files, the Diana debacle, and with Kersh breathing down their necks more and more has undoubtedly tugged hard on their tethered partnership. Mulder would be lying if he said he isn’t worried about losing her more than ever.

“Look, Scully and I are friends,” he responds solemnly. “Best friends. And yeah, I… well, you seem to already know,” he admits in defeat. Somehow, Mulder isn’t embarrassed to confess the unplatonic pull toward his partner to Skinner. His endless love for Scully is practically screaming at this point. “But I’m me. And she…”

“You’re too smart to be this stupid,” Skinner mutters, exasperated.

“Hey,” Mulder scoffs. “She has a date who looks to be the exact kind of man her family would love to see sweep her off her feet. Anyway, I don’t ever want to be the reason she can’t have what makes her happy.”

“For Christ’s sake, Mulder,” Skinner leans down close. “Last month Agent Scully put her ass — and mine — on the line without a second thought to rescue yours from the Bermuda Triangle for a reason. And that’s just one of the recent stunts she's pulled that could’ve cost her her job, and her life. The crazy thing is, I don’t think she cares as long as you’re by her side in the end.”

Mulder clears his rapidly thickening throat to speak, but Skinner shoots him his Shut The Hell Up And Listen look.

“And you’re sulking?” Skinner continues, chuckling to himself. “I know you’re angry about your reassignment. Rightfully so, but now is not the time to show it. You’ve gone head to head with Cancer Man, jumped off a bridge and onto a moving train — and whatever other insane things you’ve done behind my back, let alone Kersh’s, so I know you’re brave enough to haul your ass across this room and enjoy yourself.”

Mulder can’t help but smirk. “Now that’s a pep talk.”

Skinner loosens his candy cane striped tie as his eyes search the crowded room.

“I’ve never known two people so irritatingly stubborn in my life. Consider this my gift to you. Go ask Agent Scully to dance, and apologize for… well, everything, and use that mistletoe for God’s sake.” He slaps a heavy hand on Mulder’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “She’s waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass. Don’t blow it.”

Mulder’s mouth hangs open as the A.D. saunters off through the crowd with an unusual pep in his step. If Mulder didn’t know better, he’d think his boss just offered him fatherly advice. He scrubs his hands over his eyes and catches a familiar flash of red hair across the room, feeling a rush of renewed bravery take hold. The big man is right. What the hell is he doing torturing himself instead of seeking out the reason he’s come here?

He wipes the crumbs from his lap and weaves his way through the throng of buzzed and festive Feds. It looks like Kris Kringle threw up Christmas itself here. There are decorations everywhere. As Mulder rounds a corner to follow Scully out into the hallway, an upbeat song blares through the speaker near his ear.

Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock

Jingle bells chime in jingle bell time

A group of women in red velvet and green lace bump into him and ask him to dance, tell him how good he looks in a tux, but Mulder doesn’t care. Not when Scully is fifteen feet in front of him, talking awfully close with the man Mulder now recognizes as another new agent in the lab. Her handsome, science nerd date with his hands gently cupping Scully’s arms, smiling sweetly at her as she nods up at him. Mulder freezes. With breath caught in his chest, he watches by the wayside in horror as the man seemingly leans down and presses a lingering kiss to Scully’s upturned lips.

What a bright time, it's the right time

To rock the night away

Mulder’s heart nearly stops.

An explosion of emotion flares in his gut. Frustration, sadness, disappointment… Anger. Anger at himself, at the lucky bastard kissing his one in five billion. He grits his teeth, swallows hard against the molten burn of it all, and turns around before Scully sees the misery on his face.

Mix and a-mingle in the jingling feet

That's the jingle bell

Maybe this is what was supposed to happen tonight: fate telling him he deserves whatever shitty cards he’s dealt. But fuck, he loves her. He loves her fiercely and wants her to be happy. Whether it’s with him, or someone else, it shouldn’t matter as long as she’s living a life she chooses. A life she deserves.

It shouldn’t matter, but goddammit, it does.

So Mulder tamps down tears, and walks away.

That’s the jingle bell

He stalks out of the hall and bursts his way through the double doors, relieved to escape into the snow covered streets. He frantically searches his pockets for his car keys when his fingers get caught on the mistletoe’s hard plastic petals. Instantly, his nose stings and eyes water. He’s not sure if it’s from the pain of his heart shattering or the icy December air. He doubts it matters.

He doubts anything does, anymore.

That’s the jingle bell rooock

[shingekinohyrulewrites]

Lips of an Angel

You and Eren had dated, but the two of you were horrible for each other, and the relationship ended horribly. The both of you moved on, but a single phone call has the two of you falling into each other's lives again.

Read first chapter on AO3 here

Read previous chapter on AO3 here

Eren Jaeger was in love.

Or so he thought.

He had been dating his girlfriend, Mina, for nearly half a year, and he was surprised that he was happy. The two had met on Tinder and, at first, had only been hooking up, not putting on labels and seeing each other whenever they felt like it. However, over time, the two had caught feelings and Eren had made the first move and asked her out.

Needless to say, she was delighted.

They began dating and moved in the month after, enjoying their honeymoon phase and truly believing they were meant for each other. Eren hadn’t been quite this happy in such a long time and he cherished every single moment they spent together. He quickly fell in love and spent every waking minute with her, trying not to come off as too clingy.

Mina was great, but she wasn’t you.

Eren knew he had been at fault with your relationship falling apart, and a part of him hated the person he used to be. He had always been so angry growing up, and it had severely impacted his relationships. After you had left, he had taken some time to reflect on the man he wanted to be and took steps to improve himself.

He took boxing classes to channel his anger. He went back to school and managed to finish with a law degree, pushing himself to finish in two years instead of three. Now, he was working at a small law firm specializing in cases involving healthcare. Most of his days were spent at work, but he tried to make sure he didn’t get home too late so he could see Mina for a little while. She would try to stay up for him, greeting him with a warm smile and a kiss before asking him about his day.

With all of this, Eren fell into a routine. He loved his job and absolutely adored his coworkers. His relationship honestly couldn’t be going better, and boxing had tightened his body into tip top shape. His friends made plans around his busy schedule, taking him out for drinks or coming over to his place for movie or game nights.

Despite all of this, Eren often found himself thinking about you.

He would never admit it to anyone but, when he was having sex with Mina, he pictured that it was you. He tried to remember all of the sounds you would make, the faces you would pull when he hit a certain spot, and how your skin felt under his touch. There had been moments where he had been close to groaning out your name but he had quickly caught himself, preventing disaster from striking. He wasn’t sure what it was, as your relationship had been so toxic and he remembered he had been more angry with you than sweet and loving. The night he had choked you still lingered in his head, and he sometimes dreamed of that night, remembering the fear that had lit your eyes and how you had desperately fought against him. To him, he had dumbly thought you were going along with it, but now he looked back on that memory guiltily.

“Eren? Are you okay?”

The sound of Mina’s soft voice broke him from his reverie. The two of them were sitting on the couch, watching reruns of New Girl while eating burgers. She must have said something because she was peering at him curiously, brows furrowed in frustration.

“Yes baby, sorry. Just spaced out for a minute.”

“Did something happen at work?”

He shook his head.

“No baby, I’m okay. Finish your food so we can cuddle.”

Smiling, she gave a small nod and turned her head back to the TV, taking a bite of her burger. Eren gave a quiet sigh and tried to force himself to focus on Jess and Schmidt, who were in the midst of some stupid discussion. After a minute, he felt the couch shift and saw Mina making her way over to him, settling between his legs and resting her head against his chest. He wrapped an arm around her, kissing the top of her head before watching the show again.

It didn’t take long before Mina fell asleep. She was softly snoring as New Girl kept playing, the episodes bleeding into each other. Eren couldn’t focus, his mind flickering back to you. The night went on, the light from outside darkening and the room being enveloped in darkness. It was a little before midnight when Mina stirred, rubbing her eyes before glancing up at Eren sleepily.

“I’m going to bed. Are you coming?”

“In a little bit, baby. I’m not quite tired yet.”

She stood up, yawning as she stretched her arms overhead.

“Okay babe, just try not to stay up too late. I love you.”

Eren listened to the sound of her footsteps padding away. When he heard the bedroom door close, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He logged on to Instagram, typing in your username and hoping that it was still the same. To his relief, he saw that it was and that your profile was now public. When you two had broken up, you had deleted each other on social media in the hopes that you would be able to move on. He had tried to check on you from time to time, but all of your profiles had been set to private. Occasionally he would hear from your mutual friends about your life but it was never detailed.

Your bio simply had your job title and company name. He clicked on your first photo and saw you smiling widely at the camera, a glass of wine in one hand at a seemingly high end restaurant. There was no denying that you were still attractive. You had cut your hair, the ends of it brushing just past your shoulders. There was a glow to you that he couldn’t explain, and he realized it was because you were happy.

The second photo had his heart stopping.

A man with swept back, dirty blonde hair had an arm wrapped around you, pressing you against him tightly. One of your hands was placed on his chest gently, the other wrapped around his waist. He had a small smile on his face, gray eyes staring intensely at the camera. You were leaning against him, head tilted towards him as you smiled warmly at the camera.

Ouch.

The rest of your photos were a mix of you at work events and with your partner. He was never tagged in photos but was named as “Porco” in some of the captions. Frowning, he typed Porco into the search bar and was able to quickly find him. Unlike you, his profile was set to private but his profile picture was one of you and him. His bio had your username along with a simple heart.

Eren threw his phone across the couch, pressing his hands against his face. He was stupid to think that you hadn’t moved on - if he had moved on, how the hell would you not have moved on too? Based on the photos, he assumed that you were happy, and he knew that he had to move on and just let you go.

Reaching for his phone, he closed Instagram and opened his contacts. Scrolling through, he kept looking until he found your name. He had changed your contact name from Babe 💖 to just your name. Biting his lip, he clicked on your name, showing your name and number.

I shouldn’t do this. Mina is just down the hall.

Sucking in a breath, he clicked on your number. The screen changed, showing your name along with calling. The phone began to ring, and he raised the phone to his ear with shaky hands. It took four rings before he heard a click and there was a moment of silence.

“Hello?”