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usedpidemo · 14 days

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Codependency (Ive Yujin)

On one side, there’s a mansion worthy portrait of you on the wall. On the other, wards and recognitions from numerous governing bodies with your name plastered in remembrance. The public knows more about the brand than the people behind it; that’s how business works. Unless your name happens to be Musk, Bezos, or Zuckerberg.

You’re nowhere near their level of wealth and influence—far from it—yet this entire building’s future rests on your shoulders. It’s not as easy as it looks.

You’ve always credited your guardian angel for keeping you from harm your entire life. It sounds religious, but from personal experience, it’s real.

She’s guiding you from the secluded corner of your office.

—————

“And that’s how we’ll proceed with operations moving forward,” you say to the executives in the room—except they're not physically there. Their faces are projected on screen, joining from different countries, with some even joining from home. To be quite frank, you understand very little about your own presentation, and had your acting not been Oscar-worthy, there’s more that would appear absurd than believable. “Do we have any questions?”

For the most part, the top brass appear to be in unanimous agreement with everything that has been laid out. Not a single question, complaint, or rebuttal from anyone.

“Well done, officer. You seem to have a complete grasp and understanding of the situation,” says one of the chiefs, his ripe old age showing through his slow, strained tone.

Another suit, much closer to your age—albeit barely (he’s in his mid-forties)—adds, “We expect an immediate turnaround, otherwise we may have to cut even more of our divisions off. Should this plan fail, we anticipate closure of even more of our departments, including yours.”

It’s not the most concerning thing you’ve heard this week, but it’s definitely up there–at least top three.

Nevertheless, you remain firm and bow to your superiors as you end the meeting. “Thank you sirs. We will do our best.”

As soon as the video call ends, you let out this deep sigh of relief that’s been repressed the entire time. Thank goodness you have an entire building floor and private office to yourself.

“Well fuck me,” you mutter, seemingly speaking to the void, taking all the deep breaths you need, wiping the sweat across your head with some tissue. “Tell me I followed through on everything, right?”

“Yeah. Apart from mixing a few things, you mostly got it.” Yujin’s voice emerges from the far end of the room, covered in darkness, away from anyone’s view. The papers on your desk aren’t actually documents or paperwork. In reality, they’re pages of a manuscript with a few instructional, handwritten notes attached. It’s not even your own writing; they’re curated by none other than Yujin herself. “I’d say I wouldn’t have noticed, even if they were a little too obvious at times.”

“These conferences are fucking tiresome. Nauseating even,” you reply. Yujin opens up the blinds, and you stagger away from the immediate sunlight piercing through the room. Simply put, you just want to throw up after yapping all that incomprehensible jargon. “You know what—why don’t we switch places next time? I think you’d be better at this than me, like you already are with everything.”

An unusual comment for the director to make to his assistant, but it’s true. Yujin is so good in every department that it’s borderline farcical. She’s incredibly reliable to the point where you’ve basically deferred nearly every task to her, leaving you with the most boring parts of your job, which mostly comprises of company meetings and private calls. She’s a relatively new hire, having worked in your department for a little over a year, yet her rise up the ranks has been nothing short of absurd.

“Please, let’s not get carried away,” she softly laughs, flashing a lovely smile you never grow tired of seeing—and you see her as soon as you walk into the building till you clock out. “I’m fine with the research and paperwork. Regardless of what you want to believe, I think you sold it well.”

You slump back in your chair, somewhat bothered at just how unbothered Yujin is. How she’s able to take all your responsibilities that you should be doing, and without protest. One look at her features tells you all you need to know: that she’s happy to work for you. She could easily be in your position right now, putting you through this exact hell. She could be on that screen making those very threats on your job, in fact. Instead, she prefers to be your subordinate.

If that wasn’t enough of an example, she’s gathering the papers on your desk, putting them back together, good as new. Then she brings you a cup of water from the dispenser. She’s enumerating a list of other, just as unintelligible things that may or may not be important to your discussion earlier. Meanwhile, you’ve been sitting in that chair, your thoughts wandering aimlessly, thinking about anything that isn’t work. It’s almost noon, yet your mind just wants to check out for the rest of the day.

“Um—sir? You okay?” Yujin waves a hand right in your face, snapping you from your tired daze.

You tilt up to her gaze, eyes weary. “Yeah. I’m just—tired.”

“Do you want me to leave? I’ll go and sort out the upper management on your behalf if you’re not feeling well.”

“Don’t.” You rise from your seat, telling her, “I’ll take care of it. Go and have lunch,” as you point at your wristwatch, both hands closely pointed at the top.

“You sure? You should go have lunch too,” she replies, showing an alarming amount of concern that it’s almost comical. “Don’t worry about me.”

Shaking your head, you respond, flashing a light grin to reassure her, “I can talk to them at any time. T your break. I’ll call you when I need anything.”

—————

Truth be told, you didn’t want to see her for the rest of the day, let alone seek her help.

Yujin is only one call away. After all, she’s your assistant, down to working right outside your office. She’s working on whatever nonsense you’ve assigned her, showing no signs of slowing down. Meanwhile, you can barely call today productive; you’ve only completed two pages of a draft for next week’s presentation. In the time spent between slowly chopping away and stalking her from behind the door, her pretty profile a sight for sore eyes, she’s probably completed this week’s assignments and halfway through the next. She’s that efficient.

Hours pass, until the day finally ends at five. At exactly the top of the hour, she lets herself into your office, her pleasant attitude still in full bloom. “Already completed all the tasks for today. How about you?”

Yujin is not even trying to gloat—not in the slightest—yet it sounds like a punch to the gut. You can only slam your chin flat on the desk in despair, shooting a tired glare at her. She tries to muffle her chuckle, trying to keep herself professional, not realizing you’ve already seen through her facade.

“You want me to help you out? I don’t mind working an hour longer if you need it.” She’s peeking her head over the laptop display, examining for the proof of concept—or lack thereof. “Didn’t I tell you to leave this five plan strategy to me?”

This amount of confidence should leave you battered and deflated. And yet, there’s a sense of relief knowing Yujin will get the job done no matter what you ask of her. It’s enough to turn that frown into a faint, encouraging grin.

“I guess so,” you tell her, putting down the screen. Getting up from your chair, you close the window blinds and block out the setting sun. “Maybe I’m just tired of deferring all my responsibilities to you, that’s all.”

Her smile looks innocent, demure even, it doesn’t make sense as to how irrevocably kind she is to you. As far as you know, your employees consider you as shrewd and as scummy as your superiors. Forget that you’ve been working here longer; they consider everyone that isn’t their fellow rank a corporate dirtbag who’d step over others the first opportunity they can. It’s a vicious cycle. To have someone like Yujin feels like an anomaly.

“Don’t worry about it, that’s why I’m getting paid right?” she answers back, pressing her palms on your desk. “Just do what you can and I’ll handle the rest.”

You’re pouring an espresso into a cup, before offering the drink to her. “We should talk, Yujin,” you say, filling up a separate glass with your own. Your fourth shot. “You got a minute or two?”

“Sure. I always have time for you.” Yujin sits up, taking the drink into her hand, crossing her leg. It’s nearly impossible to look anywhere else but on them. As if she couldn’t be any more perfect, in mind, character, and body. “Is there anything bothering you lately?”

Sitting across her with only a desk separating you, the words never come out. You’ve got plenty on your mind: the messy state of your department, the unreasonable expectations and demands of your superiors, the possibility of losing your job—and Yujin. She’s sitting right there, ready to hear you out, but you never find the conviction to confess your worries. The next few minutes are awkward silence, only broken by the occasional stir of teaspoon and the sip of coffee. It isn’t that she renders you speechless, though one would fairly assume as to why: she’s pleasant to look at, among other things. It also helps that her outfits have been getting skimpier over the past few weeks. Unsurprisingly, you let the flagrant violation of the dress code go unpunished.

“Sir? Is everything okay?” Yujin leans her head forward, noticing that you’re lost in thought. She places her cup on the desk. “What’s wrong?”

Your eyebrows instinctively rise. That glimmer of hope you showed moments ago disappears. What’s left is despair. “I think we might be fucked, Yujin.”

“Fucked? What do you mean by that?”

“We’re fucked. Like, we could be out of a job fucked.”

“Explain?” Yujin cannot comprehend it—then again, anyone else would react the same way. “Didn’t we give the board a five step plan earlier today?”

“We did,” you reply, finally mustering the strength to meet her eyes. “But here’s the thing: we don’t have the financial or human capacity to execute the plan. At least, in the time they demanded.”

“And? We did the research and even the hypotheticals!” You’ve never heard Yujin raise her voice even once—until now. “What could go wrong exactly?”

“They think we can course correct years worth of bad financial decisions in just a few months. That’s the problem. Either way, we’re fucked.”

“I don’t believe you.” Yujin forcefully rises from her seat, threatening to flip the desk. If she only had the strength. “After all the time I spent working on it, you want to wave the white flag and give up?”

You don’t really know how to answer her. At least, in a way that’s remotely graceful and easy to understand.

“I’m sorry, Yuj, but no matter what—”

“I’m trying—so fucking hard—” she huffs, her fist clenching, trembling violently— “to carry your fucking ass so that we could keep our livelihoods. And not just me or you, but also the hundreds working for us! I know you fucking hate their guts because they’ve said nothing but terrible things about you, and even if none of that is true because I know you better than anyone else in this fucking building, at least have the decency to salvage whatever’s left instead of being a fucking coward for once!”

Yujin doesn’t notice that she’s been outright screaming into your face. You’re taken aback, utterly in disbelief at what she just aired out. If she wasn’t kindness incarnate, she likely would have pulled you by the shirt and choked you till you passed out. She blinks. The realization hits, and she begins to crumble.

“Sorry” is the only thing she can say, in quiet mumbles, slowly falling back onto her chair. Her hands cover the lower half of her face, completely mortified. Her eyes are on the verge of tears before giving out and crying waterfalls. Eventually, she lowers her head out of shame.

Even before entrusting her with such a demanding assignment, you knew there was nothing other than divine intervention that could save your job. This wasn’t what you signed up for, and neither did Yujin. For the most part, this was only to save face. Your face. The board of directors didn’t have any objections after all, and were mostly agreeable with every step of the plan. Either that or their old age is catching up and they hardly understood a thing at all. Like you.

Nevertheless, it doesn’t excuse you from criticism. This is on you, and you should be held accountable. Instead of rightfully performing your part, you weighed down someone else with your burden. It’s the wake-up call you need.

Yujin shouldn’t feel guilty saying all of this and having to apologize. She’s crying on your desk, still softly apologizing between tears, “Sorry—I’m really sorry—” and your heart fucking drops.

It’s a terrible feeling.

“Yuj, please stop crying,” you mutter, caressing her shoulder. Seeing her look so defeated brings you more distress than anything, including the thought of losing your job. “I should be the one apologizing for putting you through all this. You’re right—”

“I’m so sorry.” She’s still asking for forgiveness, your words mostly going unnoticed. “I just wanted to—”

“You’re right, Yuj. I’m a coward. I’ll admit, I honestly wanted to resign the moment they brought this up. If they couldn’t do a damn thing about it, how else would I know? Seeing you figure out a way made me realize just how much I depend on you to save my ass. I should be the one saying sorry, not you Goddammit, Yuj. What would I do without you, honestly—”

She tilts her head up, her sniffling and sobbing unceasing, resting her head on your chest. “I’m sorry. What I said is still out of pocket and I wasn’t in the position to say—”

“Shush, Yuj. Stop apologizing for being right,” you reply, brushing her hair. “Look. We’ll go forward with your plan. You can write up the whole thing and I’ll present it your way. I won’t muck up in front of the directors, okay? Don’t worry about it. I’m not gonna quit.”

“Really?” She lifts up her eyes, doe-looking and glimmering.

“Yeah. Might as well go down with a sinking ship, so please stop crying,” you say, smiling. “You made me feel like shit and I don’t like it.”

Yujin laughs. Heartily.

—————

Even though that should havd been enough to appease Yujin, in your eyes, it wasn’t. You had to make it up to her in other ways.

“This place serves really good food,” you tell Yujin, digesting the sights and scents of the relatively small eatery. Meanwhile, Yujin sits beside you, eating to heart’s content without a care. “I can see why you love it.”

“How’d you know this was my favorite place to drop by after work?” she asks, chomping down on the last stick of her barbecue.

“I have my sources,” you tell her, playfully grinning, unwilling to admit that you’ve been watching from behind your car’s windows for some time now.

“Don’t tell me it’s Wonyoung, boss.” Yujin pouts, flustered and embarrassed. “I swear to God, I can’t trust anything with—”

“It isn’t her, don’t worry,” you chuckle, amused at her red-faced look.

“I really appreciate the offer,” she remarks, finishing the remaining half of her drink. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Hey, it’s the least I can do for my hardworking assistant,” you reply, gesturing to the lone cook for the bill. The charges go up to the hundreds, with most orders belonging to her. While she’s chomping away at the end of a large meal, you secretly foot it on her behalf. How she maintains her figure while consuming this much food, you’ll never know. And when she calls for the tab, she’s told that it has already been paid in full.

“Now you’re just being extra,” she says, facing you, looking insulted by the kind gesture, but in a playful way. Appreciative regardless. “I already told you we’ll pay for what we each ordered.”

Looking at the stack of empty plates on her side—when compared to yours—some part of you believes that to be false. You don’t even have to say anything for her to realize she’s not one to fulfill her own word either.

“Okay—I would have paid 25 percent.”

You can’t place any blame on her. She laughs—at herself. She’s so charming, a pleasure to watch, that you would let her slide, had this not been your intention right from the start.

“Stop.”

You end up laughing with her too.

—————

“Seriously. Don’t lie, you promise you won’t just suddenly quit on us?” Yujin asks, staring at you as you walk toward your parked vehicles outside the eatery. “This feels like a way to soften the blow.”

Both of you stop right in front of your cars. “Not at all,” you tell her, staring directly into her eyes. “What else do I have to do to prove that I’m not quitting?”

“I don’t know, sir. I mean—you, suddenly asking me to eat out—” she rolls her eyes away, skeptical— “You’ve never done that.”

The cold nighttime air sweeps all over you. Chilly, you rub your arms together, partially regretting the decision to cover Yujin with your coat. She’s relatively unfazed, warm in your garment; even more surprisingly, it fits her perfectly like a glove.

“I wouldn’t leave if it means I lose you, Yujin.”

It’s not the words you wanted to say. Every part of that sentence leaves your lips effortlessly. A little too effortless.It’s an unconfessed confession, waiting for the right moment to be spoken. Sure, she may interpret it as merely you being codependent on her when it comes to work, but there’s no way there isn’t some kind of other, deeper meaning behind them.

“Lose me? What does that mean?” She asks, even more curious. Of course, Yujin isn’t the brain of your operations for nothing. It isn’t surprising when she figures you out. “You like me, don’t you?”

Just like that, the tables have turned. You can’t deny your feelings any longer.

You gently nod. Perhaps the killing blow could be softer if you find closure, right here, right now.

She leans forward, both of you unable to do anything other than to stare into each other’s deep, longing eyes. The tension between you is the only source of heat in the midst of a cold, lonely night.

By all accounts, the relationship between you and Yujin is strictly professional. Apart from a few trips abroad, you keep all conversations business related. Mind-numbing, confusing agency jargon. It’s a helpful practice in keeping your space; no matter how attractive she may look and saccharine she may sound, no amount of pleasantry can make company discussion remotely close to entertaining. You’d rather play with the blinds in your office. She’s doing her part too: clock in at nine, clock out at five on the dot. It’s a healthy routine. After hour talks between you are rare. It’s common practice to maintain a firm working relationship. It’s also just common sense. Good organization begins at the top.

Moments like these are strong reminders on why you avoid crossing that line. Yet you don’t stop—not when she’s the one making the first move.

You kiss. Your lips stay a little longer than they should. The taste lingers.

You find solace in each other's warmth, in a comforting embrace. She rests her head on your chest, her hands gripping into your shirt tightly. Deep down, you both recognize you’re on borrowed time. Whether through your promotion or your release, you won’t be together for much long. Countless hours spent together, so many occasions—the opportunities are being handed to you on a silver platter, only for you not to take the chance.

Not anymore. You won’t make the same mistake again.

—————

Driving her home was easy; finding your way into your room was half the battle.

“It took us this long to share a room, huh?” Yujin huffs against your face, finding and capturing your lips even in an erratic, volatile environment. She’s pushing you against the wall, her palms having an iron grip on your cheeks, pulling you close and wildly kissing you. The entire trip up to your apartment floor has been nothing but shaky kisses and clothes slowly scattering from the elevator to your front door.

“We should have done this a long time ago,” you manage to mutter, holding her face away for a brief respite to answer, only to be forced back in once again. Any semblance of professionalism between you is abandoned for fiery, passionate lovemaking, future relationships be damned.

The most surprising thing is how it isn’t as messy as it may look. See, despite the bite marks on your skin, the wrinkles in your clothes, and the rather loud, unceremonious manner you enter your apartment, you’re still in the process slowly unraveling. There’s a conscious effort to make sure neither side comes out completely in ruins. A silent agreement between you.

Her hands lay claim to your shirt, threatening to tear you apart if you don’t do the same to her. She lifts her head when you quickly peel through her long skirt; you dive in and make it yours. The crack in her voice as she mewls tickles your ears just right. Slowly spreading her legs wide, pulling the panties down her well defined thighs. In response, she tugs at your shirt, popping a few buttons loose. It isn’t as easy as it looks to have Yujin pinned against the wall; she’s actively fighting, trying to seize back control. If she can’t have her way with you, at the very least she can rein you in. Only now do you realize the danger your little escapede.

With her slender legs wrapped around your waist, you can only do so much. Yujin can’t stop kissing you, leading your gaze to anywhere but her pretty, lust-ridden expressions. She wants this more than you do. Against your desires, you end up in the kitchen, propping her on the bar counter as lipstick covers your entire face. The brief respite when she catches her breath gives you ample time to unbutton the rest of your shirt before tossing it aside—something you don’t give her the decency to finish.

While she’s still staggering, lost in her own thoughts, you take her by the shoulder and leave a fresh mark on her neck. A distraction. More importantly, your fingers feel their way around the back of her dress, find the touch of metal—and yank. The zipper follows, the lengthy garment gradually coming undone, until Yujin pushes the rest of it off her shoulders and to the floor. Your eyes gleam like starlight as her bra reveals itself, taking countless mental snapshots at that moment.

Not even her attempts to redirect your attention can pull you away.

You push her down on the marble surface. The bar is big enough to fit you both. Joining her atop the counter, your gaze wanders down her divine figure—and you don’t know where to start. Everything about Yujin is designed to be as perfect as humanly possible. No one should be flawless.

“How can you be any more perfect, Yuj,” you mutter, eyes roaming everywhere, soaking in the immaculate sight before you. “How did I not want you any sooner?”

Yujin’s hand traces down your arm. “You could have just asked. My previous employers did. It was a regular part of the job for me.”

You’re shaking your head. Imagine that—an employer taking advantage of their employee offering themselves without any restraint. You would never—except you already did. Your previous assistant can vouch.

“Don’t feel sorry. I want this just as much as you do,” she adds, pulling you towards her face for a soft kiss, clearing all doubt. “Besides, you’re not that much different from any of them. Why stop now?”

“Not that different? Were they just as codependent on you as I am?”

Nodding in agreement, she laughs.

“God fucking dammit.”

You sigh. Yujin continues laughing. What a momentum killer. And the worst part is, it’s self-inflicted and completely avoidable. You should have just kept going, kept her speechless.

Still, it’s not the end of the world. You’re on top of Yujin; she has no intention of leaving you anytime soon. Most importantly, she’s unhooking her bra while you’re caught up in your feelings. “But—there’s one difference: I actually love working for you. I wouldn’t mind letting you use me.”

“You love working for me? Why?”

She’s biting her lip, grabbing you by the back of your head. “You’ll find out yourself. You know what to do.”

“What? How?” The word comes out panicked, desperate.

Yujin shakes her head, the smirk on her lips twisting, wicked. “You know how.”

At first, finding what she means proves to be a struggle. After all, Yujin’s not the mysterious type. She always tells you everything straight, condenses complex conversations into digestible servings for easy consumption. It’s not in her character. Yet, one look at what’s in front of you—her naked frame casually lying beneath yours, her hands running all over your bare self—the realization hits you like lightning, and you’re mentally punching yourself for being so dangerously oblivious.

You kiss her on the lips again. You can’t get enough. You’d happily stay in this position all night long. Except that isn’t what she wants. She wants you to go further.

So you sink further and further down. The closer you get, the more she opens up. A sloppy trail follows your lips, from her chin, to her collarbones, to her chest and navel, and everything else in between. She’s soft to the touch, so flexible and malleable—every part of her, you make yours. Then you get to her core, her inner thighs spreading, and watch as it unravels before you, quivering, soaked, needy. You look into each other’s eyes, hers anticipating. There’s a craze behind your irises, as if some repressed need is crawling back to the surface. It’s slowly driving you wild.

Your name drips on the edge of Yujin’s mouth—a sign of impatience—before suddenly cracking at the point of impact. She rolls her head back, her voice reduced to an airy sigh as your tongue licks up her slit, her entrance, in a slow upward motion. It takes every ounce of your willpower not to devolve into a hungry, primal mess. Her thighs close in and clamp you down, suffocating you while you become more familiar with the sensation and taste of her dripping cunt.

If only you could hear the full extent of her moans, turning a pitch higher with each passing swipe and slurp. You’re humming into her core, satiated and fulfilled with the taste of her slick in your mouth. Yujin’s hands stretch out for help, for stability as pleasure gradually overwhelms her. Propped underneath her thighs, your hands dig under to reach places that your tongue can’t. She grows erratics, restless, moved by your presence inside her.

“Fuck!” The profanity escapes her lips instinctually, like it’s always been a part of her. She’s writhing, jaw slack, her back arched over the bar, her hands now grasping on your hair, then on the edges again. On your side, the pressure her thighs bring leave you suffocating. It’s too much. You should be begging for your life; instead, you’re enjoying every minute, slowing your pace every now and then to savor the feeling.

Despite her state, she’s caught you by the wrists. They do little in stopping your tongue from consuming every inch of her, and you end up pushing her forward. You grip her by her thighs and spread her wide. She can’t resist. Fresh air has never felt more soothing to the lungs. By the way you have her legs dangled up in the air, you’re threatening to pull a nerve. She’s screaming, crying out in desperation,

Still, it doesn’t change the outcome. Yujin finally loses herself completely and comes undone. She cums—blasts jets of slick all over your face and mouth. The counter pools with the aftermath of her orgasm, and you lick it all up, sanitation be damned.

When you finally emerge from the depths of her tight, drenched cunt, she remains a mess, stamina completely drained, body still trembling from her massive climax. You’d think after that, she would be incapacitated for the night, until—

“Wait.” Yujin deeply exhales, pulls you by the wrist. You aren’t exactly going anywhere. As if struck by lightning, she suddenly rises up. A shit-eating grin forms on her lips, as if the damage wasn’t enough to take her down. There’s a familiar look in her eyes—the gaze of a woman who needs more.

She flicks a sample of her slick from the spot on the counter and laps it up, still eying you with unceasing lust. You remember her words, the question to ponder: “You’re gonna tell me now?”

Yujin blankly stares. The question lingers for a little while. “Tell you what?” she replies, the tone convincing enough to feign innocence.

“Why you love working for me.”

She smiles again, a teasing look. “You’re halfway there.”

“What does that mean?” As you try not to overreact, your assistant turned one night stand tries to stifle her laughter. It almost goes unnoticed, until— “Yuj, you’re really getting on my nerves with all this vaguery bullshit going on.”

“It’s part of the fun, is it not? Do you want me to give it straight?”

“Yes! Like always!”

Yujin leans close. One hand reaches for your pants, the other still attached to your wrist. She appears like she’s going for yet another kiss, when she stops right next to your ear and whispers, “I want you to fuck me. Use me,” before drawing herself away.

On the surface, the stare you give her looks cold. Deep in your mind, the words resonate and ring louder and louder. Four words. “Fuck me—” “Use me—” The arousal bubbles up, manifests on your cheeks. The next few minutes can go so many ways, more than you can imagine. In your eyes, she’s still your assistant, a friendly, dependable worker whom you consider a close acquaintance more than anything.

The thing is: you’ve already gone far past the point of no return. Her gaze is enticing—demanding—you to keep going.

There’s no stopping now.

Yujin casually follows you to your bedroom, hand in tow. The rest of your clothes lie discarded in the kitchen—boxers, pants, and all. Gone are the nerves and hesitations; the attitude you have towards her is different. “Lay down,” you command her, voice steely, and she obliges, the bed flopping with the slight crash of her lithe figure. You won’t ever grow tired of staring at her naked body, regardless of it’s position.

She lays flat on her tummy, observing you rummage through your large closet of suits, pulling a red tie from one of the drawers. “Not the first time I’ve had something wrapped around my neck,” she remarks, raising a curious eyebrow, crooked smile unyielding. “Stylish, just like you.”

“I wasn’t asking for your input.” You’re never this stern towards Yujin. You toss the necktie on the mattress before joining her atop the bed. “Turn around.”

Like the good girl she is, she obliges. That’s Yujin for you; she’ll always follow everything you tell her, no questions asked. On her fours, her plump ass glides face up, in complete view. Another temptation, another part of her to claim as yours. Regardless, you’re in no hurry; you’ve got the rest of the night.

With your erect cock in hand, you line the tip against her sopping cunt. She winces, moans at the contact. “Oh, fuck—” she whines, lifting her head up, her nails pressed into the sheets. As inviting as the call of her tight, wet pussy is to you, you make an organized effort to resist the immediate lull to fuck her hard.

Even holding her figure with your other hand proves to be a nightmare. Her body enraptures you in hypnotic ways. The arch of her back, the curve of her ass, the hourglass frame—it’s a feast for the eyes. You could take your sweet time and worship every little part of Yujin and she wouldn’t mind, but in the midst of your blinding daze, she’s calling to you. Again.

“Are you just gonna admire me or are you gonna shove that big cock in me?” She faces you with a mischievous grin. “I don’t mind both.”

Suddenly, you remember your position in this relationship. You grab her by the throat, face her away again. “Quiet. I don’t want to hear any more from you unless you’re taking this fucking cock.”

Showing a little resistance, she tries daring you, “Then f—fuck!”

Her jaw goes wide, frozen in place, her voice abruptly cutting as you undercut her with your cock. You’re no better; pleasure sets your muscles ablaze as you thrust into her inviting cunt. It shows in the deep groan spilling from your mouth. Little by little, you plunge ever so deep until you feel yourself buried to the hilt. That’s when you finally let out this breath of relief—but not for long.

Her pussy clenches hard. Her heat proves to be suffocating beyond measure. If you don’t act quickly, she could end you in seconds.

“O-oh God—”

You slowly, painstakingly pull back before throttling your hips into her. Taking these short breaths, every little move you make is precarious. It’s not that she’s resisting you—far from it—but it’s you resisting the urge to cum so soon. Your mind tries to think of anything other than what’s right in front, but even that proves to be nearly impossible. The ripple of her ass, the slight wobble of her breasts, the twisting grip of your hand on her otherwise soft skin—

“So fucking tight. Holy fuck, Yuj—” You manage to mutter before you’re reduced to groans again.

All you can focus on is keeping yourself together while you’re slowly crumbing away. You find a rhythm in the midst of the madness, pounding away at your assistant’s cunt, your senses overrun by pleasure and the satisfying sound of your skin slapping skin. Elsewhere, your hands can’t seem to find solace in just one area. They’re everywhere; from her hair, to her throat, to the arch of her ass, to her hips, the imprints stay new, eventually creating a patterned sequence that immediately breaks.

You’re fucking these strained cries and prasies out of Yujin’s sweet lips, and it’s quite the mouthful. ’More,’ ‘harder,’ ‘so good—’ until it reaches the point where her voice is so worn from your chokehold that she can only speak in high pitched mewls. Another cycle you wish would never end.

Slowing your pace, you reach for the necktie, gently tying it around her neck while preventing your rhythm from disrupting. “You’re such a fucking perfect woman, you know that?” you mutter in her ear, kissing the helix and indulging in the scent of her perfume mixed with sex and sweat. “Perfect listener, perfect assistant, perfect body—”

Pulling yourself away from her, you yank the tie along—your makeshift leash. Her body tilts all the way up, a sharp screech suddenly filling the bedroom. You’re not sure if its from the pull or just her moan. Either way, you have her in your grasp. Brushing her hair aside, you mumble, “Actually, I don’t know how to use a tie like that. I just wanted to remember what it’s like to be the boss. Your boss.”

It should have sounded flat, like all your other attempts at being convincing. And yet, she leans her ear backward, trying to recapture your lips. Teasing a little, your lips make what’s considered the most minimal of contacts, before you push her to her fours. You don’t intend to pull on the tie again, but you’re still holding on to it like your most prized possession—and it may as well be Yujin.

“Of course,” are her first words uttered in a while that aren’t some combination of profanity and praise.

Grabbing her by the midsection, the rhythm of your thrusts quickens. You feel it. The imminent collapse. And it’s not just the bed quaking and creaking from your sex. She’s pleading now; ’So close,’ she tells you, begs you to let her cum all over your cock. In any other scenario, you’d acquiesce. Here, with all the authority, you’re going to assert your power a little.

“Say it. Say it and I’ll let you cum all over me,” you demand, your hand climbing up to her chest, grabbing at her breast, folding her up slightly that her grip on the sheets transfers to the headboard. “I wanted you so fucking bad for so long.”

“Anything for you. Just let me cum!” she cries out, on the verge of falling apart. Dangerously close.

“Tell me I’m yours.”

“I’m yours!”

“You know what I meant. Say it again.”

“I’m yours! I’m yours!”

Hearing her declare that she belongs to you with such conviction almost upends you too. You almost give in, but narrowaly escape thanks to your utter resolve. The smirk on your face is priceless.

“Perfect. Now cum.”

Just like that, her body reacts at the drop of your command, as if it was hardwired into her. Yujin goes numb—fidgeting, cumming all over your cock—as you continue to pound into her cunt. A single word echoes, going quieter with every incantation: ‘Fuck,’ she whines, caught reeling in her orgasm and catching every breath possible.

Eventually, it comes to a standstill, the only thing left is for you to crash. Lucky for her, you’re not that far off. You’ve let go of the tie, holding onto her shoulders instead. So now it’s her opportunity to turn the tables on you again.

“Fucking give it to me—oh I need it now, oh God—” Yujin begs, barely keeping herself upright in the aftermath of her climax.

And you just crash down on her, slamming her deep into the sheets, turning her around as you fuck callously, clamping her neck, her moans ringing into your ear. She has a leg wrapped arond yours—as if you had any intention of pulling out. You’ve spent enough time away from her pretty face; now you want to watch her take all your load deep in her pussy.

Yujin’s mouth melds in the shape of a moan as the pressure finally overwhelms you. Burying yourself deep in her, you’re still pumping, fucking your cock as you blast thick load after thick load in her warm, creamy cunt. The sensation leaves you breathless, hanging onto her for dear life as you wait for the moment to pass. Though it may seem like a couple of minutes, the feeling lingers far longer than you can imagine. She milks you of all your worth, drawing every last drop from your throbbing cock until your body can’t move any longer.

Eventually, your bodies wind up together, limbs tangled, wrapped around each other in a warm embrace. The comfort you both needed after a long day.

—————

You gaze down at a tired Yujin. Hours ago, you were the one holding onto her; now she’s the clingy one, wrapping an arm over you. “I really need to know, Yuj.”

She mumbles into your chest. “What is it?” You feel her soft lips leave lipstick marks on your skin.

You’re brushing away loose, dark strands of her hair to get a better look of her pristine, shiny face. “Why do you love working for me?”

After the passionate night you just had, you still have the gall to ask such a frivolous question. The answer should be obvious by now.

She looks up, smiling—a pleasant, friendly gleam, one you immediately recognize as soon as you walk through those office doors. “Because you’re the first boss I’ve ever worked for that isn’t a total asshole. Also, you’re good at everything.”

You raise an eyebrow and frown. “That’s not—”

“You know what I meant, boss.” The smiling turns into teasing. You realize, then you laugh.

You should be basking in the afterglow of sex, but daylight peeking through your curtain says otherwise. You’re so tired, you can’t move a muscle, let alone grab the phone from the living room to tell the time. All you know is that you should be at work by now, and so should Yujin.

The ring from your phone can be heard loud and clear, even a room and clothing pocket away. As you try to lift your head, Yujin meets you halfway, kissing you before laying you back down.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll write up your leave of absence. Besides, I could use some time off too,” she says, inching her face close to yours.

The notion frightens you. Yujin, your most reliable assistant, never missing a day that isn’t considered a holiday, not by your side when you need her.

And you need her now more than ever.

“Time off? When?”

“From now. Until you say we’re done.”

—————

(A/N: :bsadcorner:)

(Missing IVE's first proper world tour will always be one of my K-pop low points, even if I already watched and even shared an interaction with them. Goddammit, I can already expect the prices and perks for their next tour will be even more expensive than it already is. Sigh. Anyway, I hope they get their well deserved time off. Thank you for reading!)

#smut #kpop smut #ive #yujin #an yujin

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molsno · 25 days

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I don't think there's anything wrong with enjoying kids shows as an adult per se, like that's obviously fine by itself. however I think the fact that there are so many Queers™ that almost exclusively watch shows made for children, and that most of those shows were produced by disney, is indicative of a broader trend of reactionary ideologies in mainstream queer society. often they praise these shows for having "queer representation" in some form, such as a gay couple, usually comprised of young children given who these shows are usually about. of course even these meager scraps of representation are often enough to get a show canceled, but the fact is that for them to even be on children's television in the first place, they must be extremely sanitized. disney in particular is notorious for scrubbing any and all content that any hypothetical evangelical conservative might take issue with from their shows, but this is a problem inherent to children's tv.

I say this not to disparage people who like these shows, but to point out that these shows serve to impose heterosexual norms onto queerness, and it concerns me how many queer people seem to be completely fine with this. why should disney channel and cartoon network get to define what an acceptable level of queerness is? the most radical thing you can expect to see is a same-sex couple briefly kissing. they are wholly sexless and sanitized, stripped away of any challenges to heterosexuality, cissexism, monogamy, and patriarchy. Straight People get the idea that they don't have to worry about queerness, as long as it conforms to their sensibilities and doesn't threaten their dominance.

but worst of all is that queer people themselves approve of this sanitization. I suspect the reason that so many queer people's media landscape revolves entirely around these shows is because they seek acceptance into Straight society, and must prove that they won't rock the boat too much. in doing so, they seek out only portrayals of queerness they consider "safe", and eagerly distance themselves from any form of "degeneracy". queer sexuality, for instance, must be a wholly private endeavor, as it is something shameful. any form of kink that isn't acceptable under wider heterosexual norms is something they must vehemently abhor, and engaging in it must be responded to with violence, whether social, physical, or both.

to be clear, I'm not saying that exclusively watching children's shows causes queer people to be reactionary. on the contrary, I think it's the other way around. queer people who already hold reactionary beliefs flock to these shows because it allows them to see themselves in media while still being able to gain temporary, limited access to the heterosexual project and the privileges doled out to its participants. this is deeply disgraceful. not only is the queer project of assimilating into straightness an inherently harmful one given that it necessitates intentionally throwing queer people who can't assimilate due to being trans, black, disabled, poor, etc under the bus and subjecting them to violence; it's also a fool's errand, given that straight people ultimately still hate the queer people that do try to assimilate and will discard them the moment they stop being a useful tool.

#my writing

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slyandthefamilybook · 6 months

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okay because I'm seeing some misinfo, here's the story on the Key Bridge collapse

What was the Key Bridge?

The Francis Scott Key Bridge (also called the Key Bridge, the Beltway Bridge, and the Outer Harbor Crossing) was steel-arch continuous-through-truss bridge spanning the Patapsco River south of the Baltimore Harbor. The bridge took 5 years to build and cost an estimated $145 million ($735 million in today's dollars). The full bridge project (including approaches) was 10.9 miles long, but the stretch over the Patapsco was 1.6 miles long and 4 lanes wide, and comprised a length of I-695, the Baltimore Beltway. It traveled between Hawkins Point and Dundalk, and in addition to the I-895 Harbor Tunnel was the primary way for Marylanders to cross from the Eastern Shore to the West. The bridge carried an estimated 11.5 million vehicles per year. There is a lane for ships to pass under the Key Bridge with enough clearance.

Was it structurally sound?

The bridge received its latest inspection in 2022 and received a 6/9 score, which is considered "fair" by federal standards. There was a concern with one of its columns, which was downgraded from a health index of 77.8 to 65.9, but it is not clear yet if this was one of the columns struck by the ship. In 1980 the bridge was struck by a different cargo ship which destroyed a concrete support structure, but the bridge itself was unharmed. There is as of yet no evidence that the bridge collapsed because of poor condition. Experts say the lesson to be learned is about the size and weight of modern cargo ships, and that the bridge was not to blame. Engineers have noted, however, that the bridge's piers lacked protective devices such as fenders.

What was the ship?

The MV Dali is a container ship flying the Singapore flag. It is owned by Grace Ocean Private Ltd. and operated by Synergy Marine Group Ltd. The ship is currently being chartered by Maersk, a Dutch shipping company. It was built in 2015 by Hyundai. The ship is 980 feet long and 157 feet wide. The ship's gross tonnage (its internal volume) is 95,128 tons (190,256,000 pounds). Its deadweight (the weight of cargo it can carry) is 116,851 tons (233,702,000 pounds). The ship was carrying 3,000 containers. The engine is a MAN-B&W 9S90ME putting out 41,480 kilowatts (55,626 horsepower).

Over its lifetime the Dali has been inspected 27 times, and only 2 faults were ever found. On June 27, 2023 the Dali was held in port in Chile due to an issue with the propulsion system. According to an inspector the pressure gauges on the heating system were "unreadable". The fault was fixed before the ship left port.

The Dali is crewed by 22 Indian nationals including 2 maritime pilots.

What happened?

The Dali arrived at the Port of Baltimore on March 23, 2024. At 12:44 AM on March 26, 2024 the Dali left port, beginning its journey to Colombo, Sri Lanka. At 01:26 AM the ship suffered a "complete blackout" and began to drift out of the shipping lane. It is not yet known what caused the electrical failure. The backup generator did not power the propulsion system. At around 01:26 AM the crew of the Dali sent a mayday distress call to the Maryland Department of Transportation (MDOT) informing them of the loss of power and that a collision with the Key Bridge was possible. The anchors were dropped as an emergency measure to attempt to slow or stop the vessel. At the request of one of the pilots traffic flow over the bridge was immediately halted. Black smoke was seen coming from the Dali, which experts believe was the result of the crew managing to restart the power system to regain some maneuvering capability.

At 01:28 AM the Dali, traveling at 8 knots (considered to be a fast speed) collided with a support strut beneath the Key Bridge's metal truss at the southwest end of the bridge. A Baltimore resident said he heard the collision and that it "felt like an earthquake". Emergency teams began receiving 911 calls at 01:30 AM, and the Baltimore Police Department were alerted at 01:35 AM. One of the officers present radioed that he was going to go onto the bridge to alert the construction crew as soon as a second officer arrived, but the bridge collapsed seconds later.

What was the damage?

The Key Bridge has completely collapsed. The metal truss relies on structural tension from the bridge itself to maintain its rigidity. As soon as one of the support columns was destroyed, the rest of the bridge quickly followed.

The damage to the Dali is reported as minimal. The ship was impaled by the bridge's structure above the waterline, but has maintained watertight integrity. The crew has not reported any water contamination from its 1.8 million gallons of marine fuel. 13 containers carrying potentially hazardous material were damaged, and are being inspected by a team of Coast Guard divers. At least 5 vehicles including 3 passenger cars and a cement mixer were detected underwater, but authorities do not believe they were occupied

Who was hurt?

The crew of the Dali reports no casualties, except one crewmember who was hospitalized for minor injuries. There was a crew of 8 construction workers on the Key Bridge filling in potholes. 2 were immediately pulled from the water by rescue crews, with 1 being rushed to emergency care and the other reporting minor injuries and refusing treatment. The hospitalized worker has since been discharged. 1 of those rescued was Mexican. The remaining 6 remain missing. Of those 6, 2 have been identified:

Miguel Luna from El Salvador

Maynor Yassir Suazo Sandoval from Honduras

Of the remaining 4, 2 are Guatemalan nationals. Neither have been identified, but the Guatemalan Foreign Affairs Ministry has stated that they were a 26-year-old from San Luis, Petén, and a 35-year-old from Camotán, Chiquimula. The other 2 are presumed to be Mexican.

Rescue Efforts

The Coast Guard was immediately deployed for search-and-rescue operations. Military Blackhawk helicopters were seen over the river. Rescue efforts were ended at 07:30 PM on March 26, 2024 due to darkness, fog, and cold temperatures. Rear Admiral Shannon Gilreath said "Based on the length of time that we've gone in the search, the extensive search efforts that we put into it, the water temperature -- at this point, we do not believe that we're going to find any of these individuals still alive". Recovery operations resumed at 07:30 AM on March 27, 2024 with all 6 workers presumed dead.

No divers have yet entered the water underneath the bridge. Supervisory Special Agent Brian Hudson of the FBI's Underwater Search and Evidence Response Team said "the debris field is pretty sizable and I know that’s why they’re hesitant to send divers down because some of the debris is still shifting, the heavy weight of the rocks". The FBI has deployed Remotely Operated Vehicles (ROVs) equipped with cameras and SONAR.

Aftermath

At 05:08 AM on March 26, 2024 Transportation Secretary Pete Buttegiege posted on X (formerly Twitter):

"I’ve spoken with Gov. Moore and Mayor Scott to offer USDOT’s support following the vessel strike and collapse of the Francis Scott Key bridge. Rescue efforts remain underway and drivers in the Baltimore area should follow local responder guidance on detours and response."

At 07:30 AM on March 27, 2024 President of the Maryland State Senate Bill Ferguson posted on X (formerly Twitter):

"Over 15,000 in the Balt region rely on daily operations at Port of Baltimore to put food on the table. Today, with Del. @LukeClippinger and colleagues representing Port, we are drafting an emergency bill to provide for income replacement for workers impacted by this travesty."

At around 09:40 AM on March 26, 2024 Maryland Governor Wes Moore and Baltimore Mayor Brandon Scott declared a State of Emergency to take effect at 10:30 AM March 26, 2024, and to last 30 days. Baltimore's Emergency Operations Plan was put into effect.

More than 1,000 personnel from the US Army Corps of Engineers (USACE) have been deployed to assist with clearing the debris and rebuilding efforts. President Joe Biden has pledged that the federal government will pay for the entire reconstruction of the bridge.

Jennifer Homendy, the chair of the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) has recovered the Dali's data recorder, and will be inspecting both the Key Bridge and the Dali to determine the cause of the crash and the collapse. She says the investigation could take up to 2 years to complete.

Was it intentional?

According to William DelBagno, head of the FBI's Baltimore field office: "There is no specific or credible information to suggest there are ties to terrorism in this incident".

Secretary of Homeland Security Alejandro Mayorkas said: "There are no indications this was an intentional act".

At least 3 people have been killed in accidents related to ships operated by Synergy in the past 6 years. In 2018 a person on board a Synergy ship in Australia was killed in an accident relating to the vessel's personnel elevator. In 2019 an officer aboard a Synergy vessel in Singapore fell overboard while performing maintenance. In 2023 at least one sailor was killed when a Synergy ship collided with a dredging ship in the Philippines. In the first two cases safety inspectors noted that proper safety procedures had not been adhered to.

Sources

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

#atlas entry #this is still a developing story but all the information herein is accurate and current at time of publishing #baltimore #baltimore bridge collapse #francis scott key bridge #key bridge #I spent an hour collating all this info please give it a reblog

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gallusrostromegalus · 5 months

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AEIWAM canon fun fact for no reason: Zaraki Kenpachi 100% fully believes in, and practices, tarot reading.

The deck he's using is, of course, completely sideways of a conventional tarot. There are no suits, not properly faces, as the deck is entirely comprised of Cards* that he picked up at some point and felt a connect with.

The Garbage Tarot is accurate to the point of violence, will happily tell people about the present or past but gets huffy and sarcastic if you try to prognosticate too much or too specifically. It will never tell anyone how they will die but will practically spell the name and address of who they're going to marry. Or murder. Sometimes both. You get to figure that part out, asshole.

It also seems to work only for Zaraki- even touching the deck can lead to disaster, at least according to Renji who tried to use it once and immediately had the worst run of luck of his life for a week that culminated in a monkey attack and having to get the rabies shots.

Despite its accuracy and the fact it shares Zaraki's peculiar sense of humor, he doesn't use it often. "I ask it when it's an emergency or it tells me it's got news. Otherwise, it's resting. What would happen if you kick in my door in the middle of the night to ask me about your love life? I'd fuckin' castrate you, that's what. Leave it."

* "Cards" here meaning "approximately 3x5 inch flat rectangle-ish objects with two different sides that can be shuffled. This includes, but is not limited to: beer mats he scribbled important names and addresses on, Smutty polaroids he found in the back of a desk drawer, a Christmas card, a compact mirror, laminated natural objects like flowers and snakeskin, swathes of fabric, tile, the checkout cards from Library copies of famous literature, postcards, business cards, academic flash cards, the very small menu of a seafood restaurant, and a handful or normal playing and tarot cards just to be funny.

It makes a horrible noise when shuffled.

Mayuri despises it, calling it superstitious bullshit and refusing Zaraki's offer to do a reading before an important project. Mayuri flounced from the building in disgust, and as soon as he set a toe outside, he was strick by lightning.

Unohana was disappointed that he'd believe in cartomancy at first but she's kept careful notes on the results of the draws and how things turn out and there's always an element of confirmation bias but she's slightly alarmed that it may actually work. To be fair, that would only be the fourth or fifth most improbable thing about Zaraki.

#aeiwam #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach #bleach fanfic #kenpachi zaraki #mayuri kurotsuchi #retsu unohana #renji abarai #tarot

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thedensworld · 3 months

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Let me | C.Sc

Pairing: Ceo!Seungcheol x reader

Genre: angst, fluff, office romance

Summary: Seungcheol has known your for a long time and has been very grateful of your dedication as his worker. It was supposed to be just like that.

Seungcheol spotted you at the bus stop on that rainy evening, your clothes soaked through from the downpour. His instinct urged him to offer you a warm ride after what must have been a long day, but he stifled the impulse, convincing himself it was too late for a U-turn. Earlier, he'd overheard a conversation among his staff. Seokmin had generously offered a lift to whoever needed it, knowing full well you usually relied on the bus. Seungcheol sensed Seokmin's subtle invitation, but before you could even consider it, the seats in his car were quickly filled by eager colleagues.

"Y/n usually takes the bus, right?" one of the staff asked, and you shook your head, dismissing any concern. "I think I'll just take a cab. Don't worry about me."

Guilt gnawed at Seungcheol's insides as he contemplated his decision. He made a snap judgment, making a U-turn back to the bus stop, but you were nowhere to be found. You must have caught the bus already. With a heavy heart, Seungcheol returned home, the weight of missed opportunity and regret lingering in his mind.

Seungcheol's advertisement company had humble beginnings with just four employees. As the founder and Chief Officer, he led the charge, with Seungkwan handling PR, and you and Mingyu comprising the design team. Despite knowing you for nearly five years, Seungcheol realized he'd hardly exchanged more than professional pleasantries with you.

That rainy evening at the bus stop lingered in his mind, your image soaked by the relentless downpour. Even though it was just a passing moment, he couldn't shake the memory.

"She's sick, finally taking a day off," Mingyu informed Seungcheol when he inquired about your whereabouts that day.

"Sick?" Seungcheol's concern flickered. The thought of you unwell tugged at his conscience, adding another layer to his already heavy heart.

Mingyu nodded solemnly, a sigh escaping his lips before he handed Seungcheol another draft for the upcoming project. It was the design you were supposed to handle, but now you were at home, resting.

"This," Mingyu gestured to the draft, "she wants me to make sure you confirm it by today. Let me know if there's anything to revise, she said she'll do it today."

Seungcheol's expression tightened at the thought of you working even while sick. He shook his head, disliking the idea of you pushing yourself when you needed rest. "Do you know where she lives?" he asked, a sense of urgency creeping into his voice.

Seungcheol stood in front of your door, a sense of urgency gripping him as he clutched a portion of porridge and a pack of medicine in his hands. He couldn't fathom how he had ended up here, but the need to ensure your well-being drove him forward. With each press of the doorbell, the weight of his worry grew heavier. Ten seconds passed, then twenty, then a minute, yet there was no response. Frustration etched across his features as he pushed the doorbell again, the sound echoing through the silence of the hallway.

As he waited, a barrage of questions flooded his mind. "Are you okay?" he wondered, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow. Desperation urged him to try the door passcode pad, his fingers tapping out random combinations in a futile attempt to gain entry. Disappointment washed over him as each attempt proved unsuccessful, but a glimmer of relief emerged when he realized you hadn't used the most obvious combination.

With a newfound determination, Seungcheol tapped out a sequence that had been etched into his memory—the company anniversary date. The click of the door unlocking caught him off guard, a mix of surprise and relief flooding his senses. Stepping inside, he was greeted by the familiar surroundings of your home, yet the absence of your presence only heightened his concern.

"Y/n..." Seungcheol called out, his voice laced with concern, but there was no reply. He navigated through the dimly lit hallway of your apartment, his heart pounding with each step. Upon reaching your bedroom, a sense of familiarity guided his movements as he set the items on your kitchen island before peeking inside.

The sight that met his eyes sent a jolt of alarm through him. There you were, lying weakly on your bed, cocooned in blankets, with the glow of the bedside lamp casting a soft light upon your form. Your labored breathing and flushed cheeks spoke volumes, confirming his fears. Without a moment's hesitation, Seungcheol approached you, his hand reaching out to touch your forehead, which burned with fever.

Calling out your name urgently, he watched as your eyes fluttered open, struggling to focus. "S—Seungcheol?" you rasped, your voice devoid of its usual formality, he thought it was a sign of your weakened state.

"Are you okay, Y/n? You're burning. Let me take you to the hospital," Seungcheol urged, his voice tinged with worry as he moved to assist you. But before he could make a move, your hand caught his wrist, halting him in his tracks.

"Seungcheol, is that you?" you asked, your voice betraying a sense of urgency. Your eyes darted around the room, searching for answers. "How could you get inside? How—do you remember?" you questioned, your grip on his wrist tightening as you struggled to make sense of the situation.

Sungcheol's brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand. What do you mean?" he inquired, his concern deepening as he tried to comprehend your words.

Your hand suddenly released his wrist and moved to your hair, your expression clouded with confusion. Seungcheol watched helplessly as you whispered to yourself, questioning whether you were dreaming or hallucinating. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on him as he realized the severity of your condition.

Seungcheol's confusion only deepened as you pulled your comforters tightly around you, shaking your head in disbelief. "This must not be real. It could be because of the medicine," you muttered to yourself, your arms wrapping around your body in a protective gesture.

"Hey, it's me..." Seungcheol called out to you, his voice gentle yet firm. Your teary eyes met his, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still.

Seungcheol watched in awe as you approached him, your trembling hands reaching up to cup his cheeks. "You're home..." you whispered, tears now streaming down your cheeks. His heart clenched at the sight of your vulnerability, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned into your touch, the warmth of your hands against his skin grounding him in reality.

As your sobs intensified, Seungcheol felt a wave of emotions wash over him. Your house, your voice, your touch—all felt strangely familiar, yet he couldn't shake the feeling of disorientation that lingered in the back of his mind. What was happening to him?

"You're finally home..." you sobbed, burying your face in his chest as tears continued to fall unchecked. "You remember home," you whispered between sobs, your words echoing in the silence of the room.

What is happening?

Mingyu sat opposite Seungcheol, his expression grave as he prepared to deliver an explanation for the events of the previous night. Seungcheol's gaze bore into him, demanding answers, as he struggled to make sense of the familiarity of his surroundings.

"What's this?" Seungcheol gestured toward the house, a sense of unease creeping over him.

Mingyu lowered his head, a gesture of apology evident in his posture. "I didn't expect you to come here," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. Seungcheol's mind raced with questions, but before he could voice them, Mingyu diverted the conversation to your condition.

"She's being treated at the hospital. It was stress and exhaustion," Seungcheol explained. Mingyu's eyes avoiding Seungcheol's penetrating gaze. It struck Seungcheol as odd, considering Mingyu's usual propensity for defiance.

"Okay..." Seungcheol began, his tone clipped as he struggled to contain his frustration. Mingyu's heavy sigh only added to his growing sense of unease. "She's gonna hate me for this," Mingyu muttered, a hint of guilt in his voice.

Seungcheol's scowl deepened at the implication that Mingyu was withholding information from him, information that could potentially impact his life. As Mingyu continued, dropping a bombshell that left Seungcheol reeling.

"You lost your memory two years ago," Mingyu revealed, prompting Seungcheol to nod in acknowledgment. Memories of the car accident flashed through his mind, a reminder of the near-death experience that had robbed him of his past.

But Mingyu wasn't finished. "And you...you were engaged to her," he stated matter-of-factly, leaving Seungcheol dumbfounded.

"What?" Seungcheol's voice was laced with disbelief as Mingyu confirmed his status as your fiancé.

Mingyu nodded solemnly. "Yes, you two were engaged before the accident. You had been in a secret relationship for a long time and decided to get married. But then...you lost your memory," he explained, the weight of the revelation hanging heavily in the air.

Seungcheol felt as if the ground had shifted beneath him, the revelation hitting him like a ton of bricks. His mind struggled to grasp the enormity of what Mingyu had just disclosed. Engaged? Secret relationship? Marriage plans? It all seemed so surreal, like a plot from a melodramatic movie.

His gaze shifted to Mingyu, searching for any sign of deception or jest, but all he found was sincerity mirrored in Mingyu's eyes. This was real. This was his reality, whether he remembered it or not.

A myriad of emotions surged through Seungcheol—confusion, disbelief, and a twinge of fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of what he might discover about his past and his relationship with you.

"How...how could I not remember any of this?" Seungcheol's voice trembled with uncertainty, his mind racing to piece together fragments of memories that refused to surface.

Mingyu sighed heavily, his expression one of empathy mixed with regret. "The accident...it took everything from you," he replied softly. "But we've been trying to help you remember, to piece together the fragments of your past. It's just...it's not easy.".

Mingyu bypassed the entrance to your room and instead led Seungcheol to a different door down the hallway. Seungcheol's confusion deepened as Mingyu turned the doorknob and gestured for him to enter.

"What's this?" Seungcheol questioned, his voice betraying his confusion as he stepped into the room.

Mingyu's expression softened as he followed Seungcheol inside. "This used to be your room," he explained, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "Both of you shared this space before...before the accident," he added, his words heavy with unspoken emotion.

Seungcheol's eyes roamed the room, taking in the familiar surroundings—the cozy bed, the shelves lined with books, the photographs adorning the walls. Despite not remembering, there was a sense of comfort and belonging that washed over him, like a distant echo of a life he once knew.

"You two were happy here," Mingyu continued, his voice quiet as he gazed around the room. "You had plans, dreams...a future together," he said, his words tinged with sadness.

Seungcheol's heart ached at the thought of the life he couldn't remember, the memories that remained just out of reach. He longed to feel that sense of belonging again, to reclaim the love and happiness that had once filled this room.

"I'll give you some time alone," Mingyu said softly, placing a reassuring hand on Seungcheol's shoulder before quietly slipping out of the room.

Alone in the room that held fragments of a life he couldn't recall, Seungcheol closed his eyes and let himself sink into the memories that lingered in the air. Despite the uncertainty of his past, one thing remained clear—he would do whatever it took to reclaim the love and happiness that had once filled this room, and to find his way back to you.

As Seungcheol's gaze swept over the room, it landed on the vanity table, where a glint of light caught his eye. There, nestled among the trinkets and baubles, lay a simple yet elegant ring. His breath caught in his throat as he reached out, his fingers trembling as they closed around the familiar metal.

With a sense of trepidation, Seungcheol slid the ring onto his finger, feeling the weight of it settle against his skin. Instantly, a rush of familiarity washed over him, like a wave crashing against the shore of his fractured memories.

Tears welled up in Seungcheol's eyes as he stared at the ring, his vision blurred by the overwhelming emotions coursing through him. It was as if this simple band held the key to unlocking the mysteries of his past, a tangible reminder of the love and commitment he couldn't remember.

He traced the intricate design with his fingertips, each curve and groove sparking a distant echo of a life he once knew. Despite the gaps in his memory, there was no denying the depth of emotion tied to this ring, to the life he shared with you.

Seungcheol bowed his head, tears streaming down his face unchecked. In that moment, surrounded by the echoes of a life he couldn't remember, he made a silent vow—to reclaim his memories, to rediscover the love that had once filled his heart, and to find his way back to you, no matter the obstacles that lay ahead.

As Seungcheol observed your presence in the office, a sense of gratitude and concern mingled within him. He couldn't pinpoint exactly when he started noticing you, but he appreciated your hard work as a member of his design staff. However, there was something about you that troubled him—the subtle aura of melancholy that seemed to follow you like a shadow.

Seungcheol often found himself analyzing your habits, noting how you stayed late in the office long after everyone else had left. He couldn't help but worry as he observed you taking the same bus home every night, your expression tinged with a sense of weariness that tugged at his heartstrings.

Despite his best efforts to lift your spirits, Seungcheol couldn't shake the feeling that you carried a heavy burden on your shoulders. He wanted nothing more than to see you smile, to banish the clouds of sadness that seemed to linger around you.

With that in mind, Seungcheol decided to surprise you with a small gesture of kindness—he bought flowers for your team's designated room, hoping to brighten your day. But his well-intentioned gesture backfired when he discovered that you were allergic to flowers.

Seungcheol couldn't help but curse himself for not knowing such a basic detail about you. He had wanted to bring a ray of light into your life, but instead, he had inadvertently caused you discomfort.

Determined to make it up to you, Seungcheol resolved to find another way to lift your spirits, to show you that you were valued and appreciated. Despite the setback, his determination to bring a smile to your face burned brighter than ever before.

As Seungcheol's concern for you grew, he couldn't help but notice the rapport you shared with Mingyu. You seemed to have a closeness that bordered on familiarity, and Seungcheol found himself feeling an unexpected pang of jealousy.

He watched as you and Mingyu exchanged knowing glances, shared inside jokes, and collaborated effortlessly on projects. While he knew that Mingyu was a trusted colleague and friend, Seungcheol couldn't shake the feeling that you were too close, that perhaps there was more to your relationship than met the eye.

The sight of you laughing at one of Mingyu's jokes or leaning in close to discuss a project sent a twinge of unease through Seungcheol's heart. Despite his best efforts to rationalize his feelings, Seungcheol couldn't shake the nagging sense of insecurity that gnawed at him. He found himself scrutinizing your interactions with Mingyu, searching for any sign that his fears were justified.

"You're going home?" Seungcheol heard Mingyu ask you as you were on your way to call it a day. He caught a glimpse of you nodding excitedly.

"A big day?" Mingyu inquired, and you stopped while scrolling on your phone to show the taller guy something.

Mingyu gasped and looked at you while you laughed. Seungcheol watched both of you conversing with ease, observing if he had misread Mingyu and your relationship as colleagues.

"Want me to drive you home?" Mingyu offered, but you shook your head.

You waved goodbye to Mingyu before saying, "The bus is coming. Don't wanna miss it! Bye..."

Seungcheol's footsteps echoed softly as he approached the bus stop near the hospital. His heart quickened with each step, anticipation mingling with worry. Mingyu's message had left him scrambling, his mind racing with concern for you. He knew he had to find you, to make sure you were alright.

And there you were, sitting alone, a solitary figure amidst the bustle of the city. Relief washed over Seungcheol as he took in the sight of you, but it was quickly replaced by surprise when he noticed the weariness etched into your features.

"Seungcheol..." Your voice was barely above a whisper, and he could see the surprise mirrored in your eyes as you looked up at him.

"I'm here," he said softly, his heart aching at the sight of you looking so small and fragile. Mingyu's words echoed in his mind, reminding him of why he was here.

"Let's go home, I'll drive you," Seungcheol offered, reaching out to take your hand. But you recoiled, pulling away from him, and his heart sank.

He searched your eyes for answers, confusion swirling within him. Why were you pulling away from him? Didn't you know how much he cared about you, how much he wanted to take care of you?

But your response only deepened the mystery. "I can't," you mumbled, and Seungcheol felt a knot form in his stomach at your words.

"Why not?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern. "I'm the one driving."

"Still..." Your voice trailed off, and Seungcheol could see the turmoil in your eyes. There was something you weren't telling him, something weighing heavily on your mind.

As the bus approached, you rose from your seat, and Seungcheol quietly followed suit, taking the seat beside you. The journey to your apartment passed swiftly, the familiar route bringing a sense of comfort despite the tension between you.

Seungcheol couldn't shake the feeling that there was something deeper at play here, something he couldn't quite grasp. The realization dawned on him as you both walked to your apartment building. It wasn't just about the time saved by taking the bus; there was a deeper fear lurking within you, a fear of being in a car, even a cab. It all clicked into place—the reason behind your drenched state that night, your insistence on taking the bus.

As you reached your door, Seungcheol couldn't hold back any longer. "Are you scared because of me? Being in a car?" he asked, his voice tinged with regret.

You stopped in your tracks, your body tense, but your head nodded in confirmation. Seungcheol's heart sank at the admission, a wave of guilt washing over him. "I'm sorry I don't remember anything, but don't be like this," he pleaded softly, hoping you would understand.

You finally turned to face him, and for the first time, your voice held a hint of defiance. "Like what?" you challenged, your eyes searching his for answers.

Seungcheol was taken aback by your sudden assertiveness, but he gathered himself, his hands slipping into his pockets as he met your gaze. "Like... this," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, his heart heavy with the weight of his own shortcomings.

You sighed heavily, turning your body to open your door, the weight of the conversation settling heavily between you and Seungcheol. "Go home, Seungcheol," you said, your voice tinged with a mixture of exhaustion and resignation.

But before you could step inside, Seungcheol took a hesitant step forward, his words pleading for understanding. "You said this is my home."

Your heart ached at his words, the truth in them impossible to ignore. But you stood your ground, facing him with a quiet resolve. "Don't be like this, Seungcheol," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the hum of the city around you. "Just because you found out everything doesn't mean it all comes back the same."

There was a raw honesty in your words, a vulnerability that laid bare the complexities of your emotions. And as you stood there, facing each other in the fading light of the evening, you both knew that some wounds ran too deep to be healed by mere understanding.

Seungcheol's heart sank further at your words, the weight of your pain heavy upon him. He reached out, wanting to erase the hurt etched in your expression, but hesitated, unsure if his touch would offer solace or only deepen the wounds.

For a moment, silence hung thick between you, the only sound the gentle rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. Then, with a heavy sigh, Seungcheol stepped back, his gaze never leaving yours. "I understand," he murmured, his voice laced with regret. "I'll go."

Seungcheol's steps to his office were slow, his heart heavy knowing you were not on the same floor as him this week. The staff were buzzing with questions about your absence, as it was the first time you had ever taken leave. Your absence had created a noticeable gap in the working atmosphere. However, Mingyu managed to handle the situation excellently by delegating all the work to the staff and explaining that you were on vacation.

"So, calling Y/n is prohibited this week," Mingyu announced to all the staff during the morning briefing.

Seungcheol buried himself in work, the meetings and paperwork serving as a distraction from a truth that was slowly dawning on him. Even after a week, all the relevance are still seemed impossible. But the inexplicable attraction he had felt towards you suddenly made sense; they were memories of feelings he couldn't deny, even after two years of forgetting you.

He sighed deeply as he leaned back in his chair, feeling a wave of frustration wash over him. Mingyu usually juggled two roles: being a key member of the design team and acting as Seungcheol's secretary, handling emails and scheduling. But with you gone, Mingyu had to take over all your responsibilities, leaving Seungcheol to manage his own emails and appointments. Once again, he found himself overwhelmed and more than a little distracted.

Seungcheol didn't know how he suddenly found himself standing in front of your door after office hours. The last time he was here was two days ago, and since then, the guilt had been gnawing at him. He rang your bell, hoping against hope that you would open the door with a welcoming smile. But there was no response, even after his fifth ring.

He was about to give up and step into the elevator when he saw your figure standing inside. So, you had been outside.

You looked surprised by his presence, immediately stepping out of the elevator and asking, "What are you doing in front of my place?"

"I haven't seen you in the office for almost a week. I'm your boss, Y/n," Seungcheol replied, trying to sound reasonable.

You opened your passcode lock and entered your home. Without waiting for your permission, Seungcheol pushed the door and followed you inside, protesting about your attitude toward 'your boss.'

"I'm packing. That's why I couldn't come to work these past two days."

Seungcheol's brow furrowed. "You're moving?" he asked, noticing a frame with a photo of the two of you placed inside a box, ready to be packed.

"There's no reason for me to stay with all of this," you sighed, opening the tape and sealing the open boxes lying on the floor.

Seungcheol's heart sank, feeling oddly betrayed by your pessimism. "You don't want to fight for us anymore?" he asked, as if he wasn't the one who had forgotten everything about you.

You stopped and dropped everything from your hands. "Everyone has limits, Seungcheol, and I've hit mine," you said, turning to face him, your arms crossed defiantly.

"How about me? It's not fair for me to just find out about our relationship and then lose it again," Seungcheol argued, challenging your resolve.

Your face shifted slightly, your eyes betraying a hint of vulnerability as you tried to maintain your composure. "I don't care about you, Seungcheol. I've been dealing with this alone for two years. You deal with it yourself!"

Seungcheol grabbed your arm and turned you to face him again. "Then why did you stay these two years? Why didn't you leave me right after the accident? Why did you stay?"

You held his gaze for a moment before looking away. "Because I thought there was hope. But there isn't. So I'm deciding to stop now."

"Why? Are you embarrassed that I found out?" Seungcheol asked, and you fell silent. "Is it that embarrassing for you that I found out everything?"

"Isn't this a good start for me? Wouldn't it help me recover my memories if I knew the truth? Not with all the subtle signs you gave me through your designs, referencing places we had been."

Seungcheol raised your left hand and showed the ring around your finger. "You wore this, showing everyone you were engaged while I had no idea you were engaged to me. Did you want me to remember through that?"

His voice rose unconsciously as he spoke, but you remained stoic. The silence between you was thick with unresolved tension and unspoken emotions..

"Then, should I do this?" you asked, reaching up to cup his cheeks and pulling him into a kiss.

Seungcheol tensed at first, but then he responded with equal fervor. When he felt you beginning to loosen the kiss, he immediately grabbed the nape of your neck, pulling you closer, not letting you step back even an inch. His other hand found your waist, pulling your body firmly against his.

As you broke the kiss to catch your breath, Seungcheol couldn't help but notice how beautiful you looked, breathless and flushed from his kiss. He pinned you to the wall, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear before whispering, "I like you, Y/n. I mean, even after I forgot you, the feeling was still there."

Without waiting for a response, he crashed his lips back onto yours, this time with even more passion. His hands began to roam the contours of your body, slipping under your top to touch your bare skin. You whimpered, and the sound made Seungcheol ache to be closer, deeper.

"You're so beautiful..." he whispered in between kisses, his voice husky with desire.

"S—Seungcheol..." you gasped.

"Stop calling me that. Call me by the pet name you used to," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neckline and shoulder.

"Yeobo..." you breathed.

A smile spread across Seungcheol's face as he began to pull your top off, unclasping anything that covered you. "Do you want this?" he asked seriously, looking into your eyes as if he hadn't just been worshipping your body with his kisses.

You nodded fervently, pulling him into another kiss. Seungcheol quickly unbuttoned his shirt and pants, then tapped your thigh, motioning for you to jump on him. The kiss never stopped as he carried you to a room Mingyu had mentioned, the room where you two had shared so many memories. He was relieved to see it still felt familiar, untouched by time.

"There's no stopping after this, Y/n," Seungcheol warned, his voice filled with a mix of desire and seriousness.

You nodded again, more eagerly this time, and with that, Seungcheol began to touch you, closer and deeperdeeper.

It was midnight, and Seungcheol lay awake, watching you sleep in his arms. His eyes couldn't stop tracing the contours of your face, and his mind couldn't stop grappling with how all of this had happened.

How could he have lost all his memories of you after the car accident two years ago? Why did he have to find out about this now and not earlier?

You moved in your sleep, your eyes fluttering open. He kissed your forehead as you looked at him and smiled. A wave of guilt washed over him as he realized that, even after spending the night with you in your shared room, he still couldn't remember anything.

"Hey," you whispered, your voice soft and sleepy. "Can't sleep?"

He sighed, his fingers gently brushing through your hair. "I'm sorry, Y/n. I want to remember. I really do. But everything still feels like a blank slate."

You reached up to cup his cheek, your touch tender and reassuring. "It's okay, Seungcheol. I know it's not your fault."

"But it feels wrong," he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. "I should remember us, our past, everything we've been through. And yet, it's like trying to grasp at smoke."

You shifted closer, your warmth a small comfort against the cold uncertainty that plagued him. "We'll figure it out together. One step at a time."

Seungcheol nodded, though the guilt remained. He wanted to hold on to the hope you offered, to believe that somehow, they could rebuild what was lost. But for now, he could only focus on the present, on the feel of you in his arms, and the love that still lingered between you, even if the memories did not.

"Do you remember the car accident?" you asked him in a whisper. Seungcheol shook his head. "I only remember waking up after days."

You nodded, understanding. "I still remember it," you suddenly said, stopping Seungcheol's breath.

"You... you were there? You were also there?" he asked, and you nodded. Your hand ran from his forehead to his temple and down to his neck, as if you were painting something on him.

"We were bleeding. You were bleeding. There was so much blood, and you were unconscious. I remember I couldn't move. I just watched you bleeding after a truck collided with our car."

Seungcheol watched you close your eyes, suffering from the memory. He held you closer, whispering that he was okay now and that he was with you.

"It happened after the company anniversary, which was also our anniversary. We argued while you were driving. I still remember that before we started the car, I refused to wear my seatbelt, but you put it on for me. I could have died that night."

Seungcheol listened intently as you recounted everything you remembered about the accident two years ago. Your anniversary, which was also the company anniversary, and the number combination you used for your door passcode. The grip of your hand on the sheets around you two was powerful, as if you regretted surviving or still had the memory buried deep inside.

"What were we arguing about?" Seungcheol asked.

You shook your head. "I don't want to tell you. It kept us apart for two years."

Seungcheol's hand went to your back, rubbing it softly as he assured you that knowing might help him remember. "Please, it might help me."

"You found out that I had helped you secure company investors and clients through my father," you finally said.

Seungcheol's expression softened as he absorbed the information. "And that upset me?"

You nodded. "You felt it undermined your efforts and achievements. You were angry that I had intervened without telling you."

Seungcheol sighed, the pieces slowly coming together. "I see... I'm sorry. I must have hurt you a lot."

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. "No, Seungcheol, I was the one who was wrong. I must have hurt you so much while we were together that you forgot everything about me. I've spent these two years reflecting on our relationship, on all the mistakes I made."

He opened his mouth to protest, but you continued, your voice trembling. "I intervened because I thought I was helping, but I didn't consider how it would make you feel. I was too focused on my own way of supporting you. And that wasn't fair to you."

Seungcheol's grip on you tightened, but he remained silent, letting you speak.

"I've thought about all the times I might have hurt you, all the ways I could have been better. And I've wondered if maybe I deserved to be forgotten," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe losing your memory of me was a way for you to start over without the pain I caused you."

Seungcheol shook his head vehemently. "No, Y/n, don't say that. It wasn't your fault. It was an accident. You didn't deserve any of this."

"But it happened," you said, your eyes searching his. "And now, here we are, trying to piece together something that was shattered. I just want you to know that I'm sorry for everything. For not being the partner you needed me to be."

He cupped your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. "We both made mistakes. But we have a chance now to learn from them, to grow together. I don't want to lose you again."

You nodded, your heart aching with a mix of sorrow and hope. "I don't want to lose you either."

Seungcheol kissed your forehead, his lips lingering there as he whispered, "Let me take care of everything from now on."

Mingyu visited you at the hospital, his expression weighted with guilt as he confessed that he had spilled everything to Seungcheol the day before—your relationship, engagement, and even the life plans that had been erased from Seungcheol's memory.

You looked at Mingyu, panic rising in your chest. "Mingyu, you shouldn't have told him everything."

He hesitated, his eyes conflicted. "I thought he needed to know the truth, Y/n. He deserves to remember."

Tears welled up in your eyes. "You can't tell him... You can't tell him about us planning to get married because I was pregnant. And... and that we lost the baby in the accident."

Mingyu's expression softened with understanding. "Why? Why keep that from him? He has a right to know."

Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady yourself. "Because I love him, Mingyu. I love him so much that I don't want him to carry that guilt. He's already lost his memory of us. I don't want him to blame himself for something he couldn't control."

Mingyu nodded slowly, torn between respecting your wishes and wanting Seungcheol to have the complete truth. "But Y/n..."

"No, Mingyu," you interrupted firmly, wiping away tears. "Promise me you won't tell him about the baby. Let him live his life without that burden."

Mingyu sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping in resignation. "Okay, I promise. I won't say anything about the baby."

You exhaled in relief, grateful that Mingyu understood your decision, even if it weighed heavily on him. "Thank you, Mingyu."

He gave you a sad smile. "I just want what's best for both of you, Y/n. Seungcheol deserves to be happy."

"And he will be," you whispered, though your heart ached with the weight of the secrets you carried. "He will be."

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