#also YES I know that monologue is about the perfect crime not the perfect date but it's what immediately came to my head

[sleepy-sham]

Howdy Sham! For the ask game: 26, 17 (only if you feel like it), and 25

Howdy!

17) someone I miss: my best friend from growing up, Taylor. We drifted apart after high school despite me trying to keep things up. We haven't talked in years, but to this day, she's in almost every one of my dreams.

25) my idea of a perfect date: I break into Tiffany's at midnight. Do I go for the vault? No, I go for the chandelier. It's priceless. As I'm taking it down, a woman catches me. She tells me to stop. It's her father's business. She's Tiffany. I say no. We make love all night. In the morning, the cops come and I escape in one of their uniforms. I tell her to meet me in Mexico, but I go to Canada. I don't trust her. Besides, I like the cold. Thirty years later, I get a postcard. I have a son and he's the chief of police. This is where the story gets interesting. I tell Tiffany to meet me by the Trocadero in Paris. She's been waiting for me all these years. She's never taken another lover. I don't care. I don't show up. I go to Berlin. That's where I stashed the chandelier.

(my actual answer is watching the office with my bf & we spend the whole time quoting it back and forth at each other, like so)

26) my biggest pet peeves: I refuse to pay for water. Absolutely and categorically. I will die of dehydration before I pay for a bottle of water. Idk if that counts as a pet peeve but it's a major thing for me. Other things....um.....idk? I'm a very chill person. It takes a lot to elicit annoyance out of me. It's funny bc ironically this annoys my bf. He'll start poking me or something & be like "am I bothering you" & I'm like nah man you're good & he's like "but you SHOULD BE BOTHERED!!!! GET ANNOYED AT ME!!! DEFEND YOURSELF!!!!" & I'm like idk man I'm straight chillin this seems like a you issue. OOH I got one! Antivaxers. Though that's much stronger than a pet peeve. I'm usually quite good about being able to calmly debate people of opposing opinions bc I feel like that's the best way to get people to see things differently but if you're an antivaxer I will launch you into space before you can utter a word.

Ok that kind of got away from me whoops ! But thank you sm for the ask !

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 13: ...O-OH?

it’s the night of the big stream. y/n uncovers a strange, albeit deep, bond with charlie. corpse interrupts her garden date with sykkuno quite unceremoniously. tensions are high as ever; proximity chat reveals internal monologues and stray thoughts. y/n’s “batshit insane” energy affects everyone. this is, quite literally, the best game of among us bretman has ever played.

─── corpse husband x reader, sykkuno x reader (if you squint, it’s very one sided)  ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 6.1k oops ─── ❥ reqs: sum people requested some interaction w bretman + jealous corpse + flirty sykkuno

author’s note: guys....GUYS WE’RE ON THE 3RD “OH” hope ur excited cus i am!!! this was rly fun to write, but then again, everything is better than writing an essay lmao! this is extremely chaotic and a bit seggsy but like a minuscule bit u wont even notice it i swear xx there’s not much social media in this one, mostly written lol. as always lmk wat u think n thank u for all ur kind words n sooo manyyyy ideassss!!! love u lots

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous. ҉   next.

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It’s happening, you think, picking the discreet, angelic white color for your astronaut - with a halo and all, truly, you are a seraph that stepped through the gates of heaven and descended onto earth to grace these morals with your presence...quite literally, you’re not only donning white in game, but also in real life, cute as a button or more like as a bunny. Cat girls are overrated - cat boys, on the other hand, you’ll ardently defend till your last breath - but bunny girls...Safe to say, your chat had been going feral. Your endless ego is fed well. You even swore on your heart that no devilish trickery would follow in this game - you had left your snake ways behind you.

No one believed you. The Roaches know you too fucking well.

The influx of new subs, however, do not. Look at this cute girl! She wouldn’t hurt a fly! You chuckle at the compliments. At the exact same moment, Rae pipes up on the discord call, “Y/n is leering and cackling evilly. No one trust her.”

Demon woman herself must be watching your stream before starting her own. You pout, all adorable and innocent, but your eyes gleam slyly. Truly, a mastermind of manipulation! Look at you go! The chat is swooning. The viewer number steadily climbs past 16K and you hum happily, welcoming all that decided to join your little clan, “Don’t listen to Rae. Wifey is mad because I said I’m not bringing her back a souvenir. Well guess what, bitch, I’m the gift.”

Your perfect image does not quite align with your tone, nor the affectionate nickname you call your roommate (bitch, not wifey). The new viewers are none the wiser though, just like your new stream mates.

There is laughter from people you don’t quite know. The lobby is almost full, but not everyone has trickled in yet.

“Filing divorce papers right now.” Rae mumbles, but you hear the smile in her voice. It makes you crack a grin, too. 

More hello’s and shy introductions to the people in the lobby. Sykkuno’s green astronaut pops in with a upbeat, “Hey, everyone! Hi, Y/n!” as his character circles around yours. A collective awww echoes in your stream chat as you, quite breathless at the wholesomeness, reply with a “Hi! Hi hi!” as well.

Corpse is next to join, mysteriously ominous. The discord call is pure chaos, everyone screaming over the other variations of his name while stressing different syllables. Silent as a grave, he just stands there, his black astronaut seemingly eyeing everyone in the lobby. 

Alas, when the noise dies down, he utters, “Whaddup, baby.” and it’s pandemonium all over again. You are screeching/laughing along with the rest. His astronaut swiftly glides to Sykkuno, still circling around you, “Hey, Sykkuno.” He says. The latter abruptly stops. The game hasn’t even started, and already - betrayal! Sykkuno starts circling around Corpse now, leaving you in the dust.

“Hey, dude!”

“Yo,” You interrupt, “I’m like here too, yeah?”

“Fight, fight, fight!” Pokimane jeers. You can’t see her, but you’re certain she’s pumping her fists in the air. 

“Let’s leave the bloodshed for the game, yeah?” Dream offers past her laugh ridden urging.

“No, fuck that, let’s start this shit right now,” Charlie declares - his monotone is strangely pleasant to the ear, and you lean back in your chair with a thoughtful hum. Something about his energy just clicks with yours instantly, but perhaps you’re judging too quickly- “Got my fucking knife ready to slit some throats. You can all pretend you aren’t ready to kill on sight, but that’s not me. I’ll teabag your dead fucking body.”

-yeah, no, your initial estimate had been correct! What a pleasant surprise, you feel like you and he will get along beautifully. 

“Way to be subtle, Charles.” Rae snorts.

“Subtle doesn’t make an interesting game, Rae,” He’s quick to bite back, “and if I’m Impostor, you bet your fucking ass I’m going after you first.”

“Noooooo!” She shrieks, rushing to your astronaut, which is still just standing there, abandoned, like the equivalent of that one emoji, “Y/n, protect me.”

“Of course, baby.” You purr. 

There’s mumbling in the discord call, though it’s barely audible. Corpse seems to be repeating the word to himself: Baby...Baby?...Baby...

“You’re gonna stab me in the back the first chance you get, won’t you?” She questions, already painfully aware of the answer.

“You know it!”

“Finally, someone that’s not fucking cowering in their boots and flaunting their real nature.” Charlie says, “Y/n, form a Big Dick Alliance with me.”

“Oh for sure, man.” You agree immediately, trailing to his in game figure, “Let’s show these virgins how it’s done.”

“This is going to be a mess, isn’t it?” Sean’s voice rings with a cheerful laugh, making you flustered. Yes, you’re actually playing with THE JacksepticeyeTM. You still haven’t fully wrapped your head around that part, “I’m very excited to see where this will go.”

“Nowhere good.” You say with unparalleled sincerity - every word you speak to him, the icon, the legend, the one of the few youtubers you actually actively follow, must be genuine. You doubt you can lie to him. He’s too good of a person. You admire him too much. Stuck between wanting to be a shady bitch and an absolute saint, you refrain from addressing him more - you are simply not worthy.

its the y/n trying to act like a normal person in front of jack for me

ikr she looks ready to join the monastery

each day we stray closer to gods light???

Your viewers are snide as always. Gosh, you love them.

The last player pops in, fashionably late, “Hey, y’all.”

“Hey, Bretman!” The call choruses somewhat harmoniously.

“Hi, daddy.” He’s speaking to Corpse now, a smile in his voice - you can hear it even past the static of his atrocious mic. Your eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up. Your friends are cackling, but confusion refrains you from doing the same - were you not the only one Corpse offered, seemingly so long ago!, to be his sugar baby? 

One betrayal after the other. You’re glad for the Big Dick Alliance. The name has a nice right to it, too. 

Corpse laughs, “...Hey, Bretman. How are you today?”

Damn, two sentences for him, but not even a word spoken to you!? You’re already scripting a very melodramatic paragraph you will text him after the stream. With poorly masked discontent, you mutter, “Wow, thanks for such a warm welcome, Corpse, my day’s going great, yeah, loving the company.”

“Now now miss girl,” Bretman chimes, “we can’t be all daddy’s favorite.”

“Careful,” Charlie drones, “I think you just got yourself onto Y/n’s shit list.”

“Right next to Corpse Husband and Valkyrae.” You agree, “Sykkuno!” You suddenly call him.

“Uhm-Uh-Yes?” Is his nervous reply.

“You’re safe.” You state coldly, “For now.”

“You are not going after Sykkuno on my watch.” It must be a belated holiday miracle because Corpse finally decides to address you. His words seem to awake something in him, “Hey-Hey-Hey-” He swiftly glides to you, standing right next to your minute virtuous angel, “When are you coming back to Cali?”

corpse stop acting weird challenge

literally omg lmao

he does bring up a good point y/n y u not in cali yet?!

^pack it up corpse simp he disrespected the queen when he didnt say hi

“Back off, buddy,” Charlie interjects, “this spot is for Big Dick Alliance members only.”

“I’m never returning.” You inform him, your voice cold like the Arctic snow, and the look in your eyes is no kinder. You feel like you’re having a stare down through screen. 

Silence stretches. Is this an intimidation tactic? Because if it is, it’s a paltry one. Your conviction to be petty is stronger than any vulnerability you might feel.

“Then I have nothing to say to you.” He admits and fucks right off with that. Fine, go join Sykkuno and Rae in their little corner of betrayal! Friendship ended with Corpse, now Charlie is your best friend.

“Okay, guys, guys, guys-” Toast, noting this is going to spiral any minute now, tries to catch their attention, “Let’s start?!”

You look into your camera, and the roaches know what you’re thinking. You’re twins like that, communicating telepathically. You are taking back your tender promise of not being a conniving bastard. It’s fucking on. You will destroy everyone in your path, starting with the guy you have a stupid crush on - maybe?! Feelings are confusing, you’d rather just not think point blank period.

With no objections from the cast, the counter ticks away seconds and, for the first round, you’re stuck as CREW MATE.

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Charlie is a gift. Truly, you had not expected such a sudden, wonderful relationship to bloom. How have you not known of him sooner?! It’s a crime that you hadn’t spoken to him earlier. You are a 100% certain if you had found him before you started streaming, he would’ve been a big inspiration. 

The two of you do your silly little tasks and curse like sailors, commenting about this and that thanks to proximity chat. You wouldn’t have been able to stand the claustrophobic silence if it was just a normal Among Us game - to think, missing out on all his foully worded quips! It almost springs a tear into your eye. He’s just as unhinged as you.

worried about this dynamic 

its a trainwreck lol i love it plz collab more plz

Caught in a headed discussion in Electrical - TikTok trends, or audios specifically - you defend the app the best you can. Charlie thinks it’s super cringe, and you insist it’s part of the charm as you connect wires.

“I mean, have...-do you know that one audio, the one that goes, like,” You’re spilling your words, heated, frustrated that he’s so dismissive of the app that literally saved 2020, “it goes like, uhm,” You clear your throat, prep your voice - even take a sip of your favorite drink. Drawing the syllables, you try your best to make it drop an octave - it must sound like you’re doing an atrociously bad and nauseatingly scratchy Corpse impression with an extra dramatic flair, “My assssssss, your cockkk, you do the mathhh.”

“Did-Did I just-” You freeze hearing Corpse’s voice, finally done with your task. Charlie is muffling his laughter behind his palm; Corpse’s astronaut stands in the doorway, “What the fuck did I just walk into?” He seems genuinely confused, though a strangely winded. You’re mortified. Your shoulders are shaking. You look at the stream chat but it’s going too fast for you to follow. Manic laughter bubbles in your chest and you squeeze your eyes shut, mouth split into a toothy grin, lowering your head and trying to hide the blush dusting your cheeks.

“Hey? Guys? What the fuck are you talking about?” He questions again.

“Honestly?” Charlie chimes, “No fucking clue. TikTok, I think. Ask Y/n.”

You can’t reply. You’re crying. You cover your face with your palms, muttering a soft oh my god before bursting into a full blow laugh, throwing your head back, the motion accidentally knocking your headphones off.

“Y/n.” Corpse calls you, “Fuck was that?”

You’re howling. Your stomach hurts. There are literal tears in your eyes. You think Charlie might be laughing too, but you can’t really tell over your loud screeching. Hastily fixing your headphones, you wipe away the tears stuck to your lower lashes, heaving, “S-Sorry, I-” You stutter, breaking into another fit of giggles. Corpse patiently waits you to calm down. Catching your breath, you start again with a sniffle, “TikTok, yeah.” You idly fix your hair, trying to bite down a smile, “It’s an audio.”

“What- What kind of videos are you watching?”

“The good kind.” Your reply is instant, merciless, “Also, why are you here? We’re having a BDA meeting, you know.”

“I-I...” He trails off, “I...I heard people talking and...I just came here to check it out, but...I’m regretting it.” There’s a lilt in his voice, and you know he doesn’t regret jack shit. You bet he’s smiling. You wish you could see it.

“Bitch, then leave!” You huff. You aren’t sure what is with him today, and you don’t want to stick around and find out - his playfulness makes your stomach flip at the most inappropriate times! Like when you’re trying to sound threatening. You must retreat posthaste, “No, wait, I’ll do it for you.” You say, brushing past his character. Charlie follows after you.

“Dude, you’re so fucking lucky neither of us are the Impostor because you’d be deader than I’ve been feeling since I was 10.” Your favorite companion comments. Charlie is truly a modern wordsmith. You’re pretty sure you adore him, because you’re nodding your head, so quick to agree with him that even you’re surprised. 

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A meeting is called. You spare a glance at your fallen crew mates. They will be missed. Sean most of all, God, why does heaven always take the good ones?! The game feels emptier without him, even if you really only passed him once on your trek to Cafeteria with Charlie.

You may or may not have been avoiding him, afraid you’d accidentally say something horrible and he would hate you. It’s a silly fear, though a deep one. And with Charlie keeping you company, you had not uttered a single objectively  good, or even coherent, sentence. Your parents can’t watch this stream once it’s uploaded onto your Youtube channel. They know you’re barely keeping it together in most of your videos, but here, now? Yeah, no. Charlie is already hard to listen to on his own for sensitive viewers, and hearing you agree with literally everything he says with your own chaotic ideas? Your dad would stumble into an early grave.

Mom probably wouldn’t mind too much, but you’d have to explain your relationship status again. She is under the assumption that everyone you collab with is your significant other. You’d say it began with Sykkuno, though the exclamation of “Finally! My daughter isn’t pathetically single! We need to celebrate.” had started with Rae. Truly, a scandal.

Speaking of which, Sykkuno is gone, too, but you had time to mourn him already. You found his body roughly ten minutes ago; so torn with the fresh agony of heartbreak, you could not do anything else but cry. It was Charlie, bless his heart, that reported it.

“Someone killed Jack,” You say, voice dripping with venom, “court is now in session. I’m ready to vote the fucker out.”

People speak all at once. Toast roars over them, “ORDER! ODER IN COURT!” as he slams his hand onto his desk repeatedly. That seems to work, though briefly.

“I think it’s Y/n.” Corpse says. You stare at him, hand gripping your heart, mouth falling open in surprise.

flame him

corpse boutta be a corpse fr

beat his ass queen!!!!!

“Pardon my french,” You grumble, “but nani the fuck?!”

“It’s definitely Y/n, I found her and Charlie conspiring in Electrical. Surrealist experience of my fucking life, but it’s definitely her.”

“Dude, we’ve been over this,” Charlie sighs, shushing Rae who was about to comment something - knowing your luck, it was probably in favor of the man throwing you under the bus, “we would’ve snapped your fucking neck the moment you walked in. But we didn’t.”

“Yeah, we didn’t.” Corpse notes, “I said nothing about you, I’m just saying it’s definitely her. She probably didn’t kill in front of you because of your stupid alliance-”

“Someone sounds salty because he wasn’t invited.” Pokimane snickers.

“-or possibly she did tell you and you won’t betray her for the exact same reason.”

“That’s some big brain logic you pulled there, genius,” Charlie says, absolutely unimpressed, “sure you didn’t have an aneurysm trying to connect all of that together?”

“Well,” Rae pipes up, “Y/n and Charlie did say they will kill right before the game started. If you ask me, it’s not unbelievable. And Sykkuno was sorta on the shit list.”

“I’m writing down your name twice, Rachell.” You spit.

“Not helping your case at all, Y/n...” Dream worries, “And Rae makes a good point. Charlie and you have professed desire for murder. I’m just saying! It’s a bit suspicious, you know?”

The next words to leave Corpse’s lips sound incredibly smug, “See?” He drawls.  The pressure is getting to you - you don’t understand where this beguiling talent of his to convince literally everyone comes from, but it doesn’t inspire any confidence. Your fist suddenly feels incredibly lonely, so useless - oh, how you long to swing at him, “It’s definitely Y/n.”

“I dunno...” Toast mumbles.

“It’s Y/n.”

“Corpse-” You try, but he's ignoring you - shocker, as if he hadn’t been doing that from the very start of this stupid game - and chanting your name like it’s a fucking mantra or something, a smile in his voice, knowing, relishing in the fact that he’s grating on your nerves, “FIRST OF ALL,” You scream into the mic, successfully cutting him off; catching your breath, you exhale, and continue, calmly, lowly,  “get my pretty name out of your mouth.” 

There’s a pause full of tense silence. 

Then, there’s a sound, seemingly stuck in the back of his throat, “...O-Oh...?”

“Second of all,” You continue, words like honey dipped in arsenic, “This is the clearest smear campaign I have ever witnessed. By how hard you’re trying to frame me for fuck knows what reason, I’m led to believe it’s you that killed them. You’re the Impostor.”

“Corpse wouldn’t kill Sykkuno, though.” Rae comments, skeptical.

“Then the other Impostor did it.” You counter.

“Maybe you’re both Impostors.” Pokimane chirps.

“Y/n would never betray the Big Dick Alliance like that.” Charlie states.

You grin, “Charlie, I literally love you.” 

“Wait hold up now,” Corpse seems to get his bearings together, “what’s this about love I’m hearing?”

“I have none for you, dick.” You snap, flipping him off. Your chat cheers. While he can’t see it, you hope he senses it through the screen, “I officially hate you.”

“No, wait-”

“Boo, Corpse, you suck.” Toast laughs.

“Y/n, please-”

“Let’s all vote for Corpse Husband, okay?” You say it like it’s his full official name with an encouraging smile and multiple soft nods. Sykkuno can’t be here to nod, so you’ll do it for him. You eye the rapidly decreasing timer before clicking on Corpse’s figure and voting for him. The VOTED icon instantly pops up beside your adorable astronaut.

“Baby, I-” It slips past his lips so easily, as if he’s not even thinking about it, like it’s only natural to call you that and a spike of anxiety shoots up, making you glare. It’s only halfhearted. You try your best to ignore the rapid and uncoordinated pulses of your heart. Replace unwanted feelings with anger and hate - works like a charm, every time.

“You are not allowed to call me that.” You hiss. The chat spams snake emojis. 

“Wait-” Bretman chimes, “Hold up, y’all, slow down a minute. Why does Corpse never call me baby?”

“Yeah!” Pokimane agrees, “I want to be baby, too!”

Pokimane may not have been called baby, but you just single-handedly decided her nickname for her - Target 4. Welcome to the shit list, she is officially your public enemy number 1. You aren’t sure why the thought of Corpse ever referring to anyone else as baby makes you sick to your stomach (you actually do know why, but brain no think at the moment), but you wish this whole conversation never happened. You don’t like it.

20 seconds left. More VOTED icons appear by your friends. Corpse is the last one to cast his ballot at, you assume, you, as the rest wait for his quick explanation before everyone (or not) returns to the game, “...Because she’s my baby.”

Goodbye. Life had been sweet, and there was sorrow, though the amount of embarrassment you feel now is worse than when the internet found your cringe worthy high school pictures on your mom’s Facebook. It’s a mixture of dread and excitement - the pleasure of being noticed, cherished even, though anxious from vulnerability. Someone is screaming a very prolonged “WHAAAAT?!”, or maybe multiple people are, you aren’t sure, your ears start to hurt from the loud, conflicting cacophony of voices as you stare blankly at the screen. You received two votes, just like Corpse, Charlie got one, the rest skipped. With no one flung out, you all find yourself back in Cafeteria again.

Baby. My baby? My baby. My baby. The sentence is playing ping-pong in your mind, reverberating louder each time. You’re actually speechless for the first time in your life; your chest hurts, your heart beating so fast your hands start shaking. Had he meant it? Or was this a some joke? Was he trying to get a rise out of you again? You might just go insane from so many questions. My baby. Holy shit, this is a heart attack, this is what a heart attack feels like, dear God, you figured you at least had ten years before you get one!

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First round ends with IMPOSTORS raining victorious. Your sixth sense had been working wonders since, true to you previous estimate, it had been Corpse. His companion was Pokimane. For absolutely no reason what’s so ever, you change her name once more from Target 4 to Target 1. Normally, you’re all for girls supporting girls. Men don’t deserve anything, really, but now you’re so flustered and still reeling from what you are 80% sure was cardiac arrest that you genuinely don’t care about your established morals.

Round two starts without much deliberation. You get CREW MATE again; the game must sense your growing bloodlust, making sure that once you do get IMPOSTOR, you will not hold back. True power is granted to those who are ready and strong enough to wield it. You wait for your moment with bated breath.

Charlie is taken from you too early. The two of you were once again caught in a discussion - God knows about what, Minecraft, hentai, oh! your server! - as you tried to card swipe for the umpteenth time. The lights blew out and you just knew one of you was getting murdered there and then. Charlie’s voice abruptly cut off, and you think a part of you died with him.

It’s a cold meeting; with your new best friend being the first to go, everyone decides to skip. You proclaim you seek vengeance. When the meeting comes to an end, Sykkuno is the first to offer his condolences.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” He says, and while he’s not in Brooklyn, you somehow feel him patting your back. You feign a sniffle.

“There’s nothing to apologize for...” You murmur sadly, “Unless...” Your voice turns sharp as the knife that was surely twisted into Charlie’s back, “It was you?”

“NO!” He exclaims, “I would never-you gotta believe me! I would never kill him. I know he’s important to you. I wouldn’t do that, I swear.”

“He was like a brother to me.” You admit, solemn, “Charlie, if you’re haunting me right now, know I will avenge you. I will not let this go.”

Sykkuno hums, circling around you, “Hey, I have a task in Greenhouse. Would you, uh--Would like to, uhm, join me?” Despite the shaky start, he finishes on a firm, pleasant note. He’s trying to cheer you up. Having lost your closest friend, he’s offering you his company. You accept with a soft smile and a cute “Yes, please!” and he releases an airy little laugh. The two of you make your way to your favorite place in map MIRA.

It’s difficult to stay sad for long when Sykkuno’s so sweet; the atmosphere of the Greenhouse is strangely calming; your problems seem to be left behind the shut doors. If you tried hard enough, you could imagine being in an actual Greenhouse - the warm, damp air clinging to your skin, the unmistakable smell of earth and vegetation, the pleasant silence broken only by yours and his hushed voices and clumsy footsteps.

The two of you are talking. Mainly about your choice of attire. Cat first, Sykkuno ponders aloud, doing his task as you watch the plants grow, now bunny, what’s next? You affirm that you will most likely dress up in cow-print next, or as an adorable sheep. He laughs, admitting you’ll look good in anything before he trails off. His awkwardness is really endearing. 

“Or!” You chirp happily, content with being locked away with him for the whole game. The idea must be playing in his mind, too, because he seems in no rush to leave, “I could, like, dress as someone from My Hero Academia. I watched the stream you did with Stella, the one where she made you look like Todoroki. It was really cute. You were really cute.”

“Oh, uhm-well, uh, thank you, thanks, I, uhm-” He clears his throat, and despite his stutter, you hear the smile in his voice, “I-I think you’d look better, though. Not as Todoroki. Or, probably as Todoroki, too. But, uhm, what character are you thinking about?”

“Maybe Momo?”

“Momo!” He yeps, “Momo is good. Yeah, she’s great. You’ll-uhm-you’ll look amazing. Really. Momo is awesome. Very pretty. Just like you.”

You are blushing. A stupid, toothy grin makes your cheeks hurt. Your eyes flicker to the chat, but again, it’s going wild. Giggling, you thank him for his sweet words, so giddy it’s honestly embarrassing. Why can’t you stop smiling? This is incriminating. You hide your lips behind your palm.

“...What’s this?” Corpse question. You had failed to note his sudden appearance, too busy gushing. “Am I interrupting?”

“Hey, Corpse!” Sykkuno greets. For someone so awkward and shy, he sure is good at hiding it when he wants to. Perhaps it’s all an act and you had been deviously tricked! Probably not, but you can’t help but narrow your eyes suspiciously, finally able to calm down. You definitely underestimated him, you just haven’t figured out how yet, “Not really! Y/n was sad Charlie died so I took her here.”

“You interrupted our date, dipshit.” You deadpan. 

“...Fuck you say?” Corpse dares, his voice low and somewhat menacing - for someone who exclusively portrays his emotions through only his voice, he’s incredibly hard to read. This is payback. Your love for wreaking havoc resurfaces suddenly. Serves him right for pulling all this ignoring shit at the start. Maybe you’ll make him say oh again.

Your sly smirk is promptly wiped. Fuck. He said oh, he literally said oh out loud. The Teruhashi fangirl in you is screaming. You had been so caught up in defending yourself you didn’t even register it at first. Alarmed, you look at the camera, then at the chat. First oh, then my baby. There’s no way he had been teasing you, and this proves it. Holy shit. You mouth the words “HE SAID OH!” for your audience only.

now she notices

snail pace baby we’ve been loosing our shit for the past hour 

corpse x y/n saikik au enemies to lovers 500k words slow burn im here for it

opening wattpad rn^

Your heart races in your chest - it might be considered an Olympic medalist at this point; flustered yet again, you wish you could cave into yourself. You should’ve brought your bright blue wig with you to Brooklyn. Turns out it would have been perfect for this stream. Yes, yes thinking about unnecessary details always works in distracting you from the butterflies throwing a fucking rave in your stomach. 

“I guess it is a date!” Sykkuno admits, “Kinda after a funeral, but still.”

Corpse hums. You’re still too stunned to say anything. The black astronaut with adorable cat ears approaches Sykkuno. 

“It’s not.” He states. Your mouth falls open in shock as your date, your companion, the Shoto to your Momo is murdered in cold blood right in front of you. His lifeless body, cut in half, lays on the tiles by the growing flowers, right beside you, “You didn’t see shit.”

“...I didn’t see shit.” Is all you can utter, breathless and terrified.

“Thaaaat’s fucking right, baby.” Corpse coos, “Now I’m gonna report it, and I’ll say we found Sykkuno together. Better stick close to me after the meeting, got it?”

If Sykkuno is Shoto, then Corpse is definitely Dabi. 

why is that kinda hot tho omg

didn’t know i needed dom corpse since now but i do

y/n looks like shes boutta throw up lmao 

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You follow him around like a lost puppy - because what else is left for you to do!? You’re helpless in this situation. He’s got you in the palm of his hand, successfully eliminating everyone you had previously interacted with. First it was Charlie, then Sykkuno, even Sean, who said hello in passing, was shot instantly. Real Sangwoo behavior. You almost want to scream warnings at everyone to not approach you. You cannot mourn another lost crew mate, you don’t think your conscience can take it. But words fail to form. You’re too weak. You fake cry to your audience. They’re quick to remind you to stop acting like a little bitch.

“Mean.” Is all you say, eyeing the comments.

“Hm?”

“Was talking to the roaches.”

“What are they saying?”

“That I should betray you.”

“...Better not.”

A shiver shoots up your spine and you half believe he will bust down your door and drag you into his basement for real. A nervous laugh slips past your lips, “I won’t, I won’t.” You reassure him, “Don’t worry, I’m sticking with you. I haven’t seen shit.”

“I like that you listen to me. You always this agreeable?”

“You’re kinda not giving me a choice right now.” You grumble, vending yourself a drink while he looms behind you, protecting you. From who?! Himself?!

“Oh my fucking God, finally,” Bretman exclaims, “girl, I’ve been running around the whole map trynna find someone, is everyone like, dead?”

You’re scared to reply. Corpse does it for you, “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, maybe? Not sure. Where have you been?”

“Oh you know,” Bretman grins, “doing tasks, talking shit, the usual. You two are not, like, Impostors right?”

You shoot a look at Corpse, but he obviously can’t see it. Biting your lip, you murmur, “Nope.”

“Just your regular crew mates doing regular crew mate things.” Corpse says, no, purrs. Because that’s not suspicious at all. You’d recommend Bretman to run, and not only because that sounded shady as fuck. But he seems to enjoy danger, or he just doesn’t care.

“Hmmmm, crew mates, sure. Miss girl Y/n,” He’s addressing you now; you smile anxiously, “How come every time I see you, you’re with a different man?! Like damn, leave some for the rest of us, for real!”

You like Bretman. You like his high-pitched whine and drawl. You would like him even more if not for the complex situation at hand. You fear for his life. Chewing at your bottom lip, you snicker, “Sorry, Bret. I can leave you Corpse if you want?”

He laughs, “Girl, I’d say yes so fucking quick, but I know he wouldn’t want that. Normally I wouldn’t care, but y’all are such a cute couple it’s making me not want to be a shady motherfucking bitch. Changing my ways, embracing the lord. Love it.”

 Corpse doesn’t correct him that you are, in fact, not dating. His lack of reaction unnerves you slightly. Does he...? No! No think! Only exist! You catch that train of thought and steer it away from forbidden territory. Looks like it’s up to you to clear the air, and that is exactly what you do after trying to swallow down the lump in your throat, “Uh, we’re not together, actually. We’re just really good friends.”

“Bitch, then move over,” Bretman says snappily,”go like, back to your other boyfriends. Or find another one. I think I saw Dream near Navigation.”

“Near Navigation, huh?” Corpse hums thoughtfully. It’s a subtle warning, but you catch it. Yeah, even if you try running, Dream’s going to join your other ‘boyfriends’ in the afterlife. Granted, killing someone by just talking with them is kind of cool. Or maybe Stockholm Syndrome is finally kicking in, “Bret, the thing is, Y/n’s scared of dying, so she asked me to stay with her.”

It’s disturbing how good at lying he is. It is also really really attractive, as bizarre as that is.

y/n stop being in a toxic relationship with corpse challenge

making fanart of this omg her face

its the blushing for me girl get your head outta the gutter!

^she cant, it lives there

“Baby, you’re gonna fucking die if you stick with her,” Bretman points out, “have you noticed the mortality rate of her partners? Rest in peace, daddy.”

“He’s right, you know.” You mutter, dramatically looking to the side, “I’m no good, Corpse.”

“Not leaving you, end of discussion. Bretman, join us?” Corpse offers, catching you by surprise. He might still be lying, though. Creating a false sense of security before eliminating Bretman. Probably would laugh while doing it, too. Wow, he truly is evil.

Turns out he doesn’t have to do any of that, because when Dream strolls into Cafeteria, he kills Bretman instead. The two Impostors are finally revealed. You promised not to snitch on Corpse, but you didn’t say shit about not exposing Dream. You press the REPORT button and say just that: “Dream just murdered Bret right in front of me and Corpse.”

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The last meeting is called. Dream had been voted out with the help of Corpse, and now only you, he, and Rae remain.

“Baby, you know what to do.”

The VOTED icon pops up beside Corpse’s astronaut. Rae wheezes, “No! Y/n, it’s not me, you gotta believe me, I swear it’s not me!”

“...I really don’t know,” You murmur, “I’ve been with Corpse a lot, and...Rae, I’m not sure...”

“Please! I swear it on my Kagayama cardboard cut out, I’m not the Impostor, please! You know me, I’d never lie to you like this.”

“She’s definitely lying.” Corpse says, sounding pleased.

“Don’t listen to him! Remember, during the first round, when he tried to convince us that you were the Impostor? He’s doing the same shit to me!”

“I also remember you agreeing with him.” You remind her.

“I was stupid! Small dumb brain moment! He was using us to win! He’s using you right now!” She votes, “Please, Y/n, make the right choice.”

You’re silent for a moment.

“I’m gonna...I’m gonna vote for who I think it is.” You lastly say.

A slow, lazy grin makes it’s way onto your lips, eyes gleaming mischievously. You had not forgotten your promise to your brother from another mother, you had not forgotten the pride of the BDA, you had not forgotten your beautiful friendship. Two miniature astronauts pop up by Corpse’s at the exact moment Rae screeches “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!”

“Fuck.” Is all Corpse says with a laugh.

The screen changes, informing of the first CREW MATE victory.

Your ears are assaulted with different voices as you appear in the lobby.

“Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about.” Charlie raves, “I swear to fucking God, Y/n, you even got me going for a second. Pulled some 1000 IQ shit right there. It was fucking amazing. Best back stabbing I’ve seen in a while, and I’ve seen a lot.”

“That was absolutely fantastic, Y/n.” Sean applauds, “I really thought you joined Corpse like some crew mate accomplice or something. Can’t believe you switched on him at the last second.”

“That’s my wifey!” Rae cheers, strolling to you, “Love you, mwah.”

“Hey, Corpse,” Charlie calls him, “How does it feel to be a fucking loser?”

“I’m surprisingly fine with it.”

yeah he would be lmao

mom is the best snake ever i love you sm y/n

rae and y/n’s friendship....the feeeeeels

As the rest sing your praises for another solid minute or two, the third round begins. CREW MATE again. Though, just because you’re stuck as an underpaid worker in a dying spaceship, it doesn’t mean you’re innocent. Your last round proved that quite well. You can’t help but silently snicker.

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TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[phoebehalliwell]

what are your thoughts on thruples? cause I keep thinking about Paige/Henry/Coop, especially with Henry and Coop's epic bromance in the comics

ooh that could be very interesting. personally, i'm game for throuples (tho i will say i Hate the word throuple i think it sounds gross just like you know moist or something so i usually just say "poly relationship") but i do kind have beef when it's like. like you know the meme "it doesn't have to be like this [blank] has two hands"? funny meme i do like it but i hate when a poly relationship is just kinda an excuse to merge two couples rather than something that like emerges as distinct relationships between all three parties. like bella edward and jacob as a couple like. shure because bella loves edward and bella loves jacob but jacob and edward really don't like have anything there it's more like roommates who share a girlfriend rather than a poly relationship. one piece of media that i think really did it well was siren on freeform which i highly recommend the first two seasons it kinda goes off the rails s3 and then was cancelled but the first two season it really spends time fleshing out all aspects of the relationships between ben, ryn, & maddie and it also actually goes canon which is lit 🤙🤙

but basically. if i were to do a paige/henry/coop, i think i would start with specifically a paige/coop bromance introduce henry into the mix & let it blossom from there so like. as previously stated. i think each leg of the triangle here needs to be strong n steady on its own so um underneath the cut is i believe a record breaking 6.6k

rip richard but we'll say richard also died in this au rip. and then, of course, kyle also died. idk if he's a whitelighter or not but the point is paige has this weight on her chest like god i can't save these people i can't save the people i love ouch everything hurts

& that's when coop shows up!

and we'll have his introduction plot be a fusion of heartbreak city and the magic hour where coop's got this relationship and it's perfect they're so in love but there's this demonic interference and it's gonna kill one or both of them so he busts down the charmed ones' door like hi you guys are protectors of the innocent right well i have some innocents in dire need of protection

to which this duty gets turfed to paige because piper idk has work and phoebe has a date and phoebe's like i can cancel it to help! and coop's like what no the whole reason i'm here is love go go find love paige can totally handle this

and paige is like :| because she really doesn't want this gig and coop's explaining it all to her how this love is going to be broken up by a magical death unless they stop it and paige is like okay look here coop let's not get our expectations up to high because in my experience almost all relationships end in a magical death and coop’s like !!!

and immediately does like a cupid reading on her and paige is trying to bat him away like ew no i do not need any love guru-ing right now okay let’s just fix your thing and then you can leave okay

and coop’s like no don’t you see? this is fate, the fact that it’s you and me on this, it means i’m meant to be here, i’m meant to help you find love

and paige is like uh no it means piper’s a mother of two and phoebe’s on a date while i am the tragic spinstress of magic school (which is still under her charge just bc it is we didn’t abandon it)

and coop’s like nope. it’s fate. and paige rolls her eyes and coop’s like come on, like you don’t believe in fate and paige is like actually i don’t! and coop just smiles at her bc he knows she’s lying and paige knows she knows he’s lying and she tries to sneer at him but it’s just insanely half hearted bc to be honest her heart kinda skipped a beat with that smile but no

absolutely not

dude, all she gets is cursed love, and now a cupid?

she can’t go through all that she can’t fight for love only to watch him die no she’s gonna ignore it he’s not that cute anyways oh fuck he totally is but whatever!!! doesn’t matter

so blah blah blah paige and coop save the day including one moment where idk there’s an explosion or something they have to dodge something hide for attackers something where they get thrown up against a wall faces inches apart from each other breathing heavy undeniably a moment which they both Immediately break because wooooah that is a little too much chemistry!! better act like that never happened

and you know next episode or whatever coop’s like okay let’s find you love!! and paige is like not now i’m at work and coop’s like in an alleyway and paige is like i need to look after my charge and then after that i need to grade papers and after that i need to order cauldrons and after that-

and coop’s like find love?

and paige is like no. i need to.... but um she forgot the rest of her list

and coop’s like find love excellent sounds great!

and paige is like anyone ever tell you you’re really annoying and coop’s like nope i’m a cupid :0)

and blah blah blah they’re arguing and something something w paige’s charge and paige is like i gotta go talk to him but coop holds her back because wait who’s that approaching him and paige is like fuck that must be his parole officer bc idk he’s doing something that is obviously breaking parole and paige is like aaaaaaa what do we do and then it’s a henry face reveal and both paige and coop are like woah.

but then paige is storming off trying to like try to fight henry and henry’s like what the fuck is this?? and coop’s running up like hi i’m also here and speed’s like i-cannot stress this enough-do not know any of these people and coop’s like you don’t know us yet and paige is like you can’t do this speed’s a good kid and speed’s like yeah!!

and henry’s like he was so very obviously breaking parole and paige is like he’s a kid and henry’s like a kid who’s been to juvie!! twice!!! and who should know the damn rules by now

and paige is like look something something clever talk bargaining whatever puts something of her own at stake and henry’s like you’re really gonna risk it all on this kid and paige is like yes. he’s destined for greatness. and speed is like yeah!! and henry’s like fine. whatever. but when the other shoe drops, you know like i’m gonna cash in whatever wager paige made here

& he leaves

and speed’s like thanks also who are you and idk we get a paige monologue something full of love and spirit and coop’s also there still and speed’s listening to this monologue kinda like um okay bc honestly? just met her five minutes ago this is kind of a lot but coop’s listening to this monologue like wow😍

so idk speed leaves and coop’s like hey so do you pick a fight with all the guy’s you find attractive and paige is like what

and coop’s like well i’m just saying you know with richard with kyle with me and now with henry i’m kinda sensing a pattern there

and paige is like did you just include yourself on that list and coop’s like i mean yeah duh

and paige kinda wants to argue back but her blush is giving her away so it’s best just to change the subject so what you think i should be going for the parole officer?

and coop’s like yes! didn’t you feel it there was a spark there passion energy something that with the help of yours truly can easily turn into love and paige is like yeah no. absolutely not.

and coop���s like come on why not he was hot and paige is like yeah well if he’s so hot why don’t you date him and coop pauses like hmm like genuinely consider and paige is like don’t do that

and coop’s like why not and paige is torn between don’t date him because i actually did feel that spark and i do kinda like him and also don’t date him because if you’re gonna date anyone it should be me but both those are too embarrassing to say out loud to her cupid so instead she just says conflict of interest

and we flash forward to later idk when the point is speed is doing graffiti on public property but not just like stupid pointing a spray can at something la la la like proper graffiti like an artform but as it is unfortunately public property that is Illegal so it breaks parole

so idk henry’s there and busts him and paige senses speed’s in trouble so she shows up and henry’s like good you’re here. i’m not actually gonna cash in the thing that you wagered because that’d be unfair, because i know the kid, i know that he always let’s you down and speed’s like hey man

but paige is looking up at the wall and she’s like don’t you get it and henry’s like ...no and paige is like it’s art. it’s a release, it’s a coping mechanism and speed’s like idk that’s all sounding a little bit pretentious for a bit of graffiti and paige is like you can’t arrest him for this and henry’s like it’s literally illegal. & i already let him walk once what part of this aren’t you getting

and then there’s like a. idk cop radio thing i don’t know how police work that’s talking about how whatever gang speed used to run with just robbed some place but they’re hot on their tail bc their getaway driver sucks and henry’s looking at speed bc speed Is the getaway driver hence the name and henry’s like how come you aren’t driving that car huh

and speed just shrugs and henry’s like no how come you’re not driving that car what you swap out one crime for another you’re getting busted either way and speed like shrugs 

and paige is like he’s creating art instead and henry’s like did they approach you to drive the getaway car and speed shrugs and henry’s did they approach you to drive the getaway car and speeds like yes man they did i said no and henry looks up at the art

and it’s some super nail on the head craving freedom thing a bird breaking free from a cage type shit and it’s gorgeous

and henry looks at paige like what are you, huh

and paige is like freelance guardian angel

and henry just uncuffs speed and speed’s like what are you doing and henry’s like go. next time you do this find a wall that isn’t public property

and speed can’t help it he kinda smiles n runs off and henry just looks at paige bc what the hell has this girl gotten into him bc normally he’s just got such a concrete shell but she’s smiling at him like he just made the right choice and he’s really gotta fight the urge to smile back. what the fuck

so he says something stupid and leaves

and later paige is doing something when boom coop is here invading her personal bubble bc that’s become their new mode of communication is there are one thousand empty chairs and coop is seated in one paige will walk over and sit on that same chair that’s how they operate bc again there’s this sense of longing for one another and they both know they can’t go for it so instead they just opt for this intense intimacy passed off as friendship

and paige is like met the parole officer again and coop’s like oh henry mitchell? and paige is like how do u know his full name and coop’s like did my research<3 and they’re talking blah blah blah idk and it’s both how to land a date with this guy and also heavy flirting at the same time. and then like phoebe walks into the room and they snap apart like magnets with the same polarity i think?? been a while since the fifth grade and their language just becomes so much more stifled

to which phoebe is vaguely aware and this is a change but we as the audience are super aware it’s a change meaning that their constant flirty banter is a choice on both parts they are both very consciously doing this

and then i don’t know there’s something bigger going on in the main plot which has been building and the main villain needs something magical from each type of being so a cupid’s next on the grocery list so idk coop is either out minding his own business getting coffee or he’s out on reconnaissance on henry when all of a sudden he’s attacked!! by idk an arrow seems convenient honestly we should do a bow and arrow an homage to in original cupid iconography

and henry’s in proximity and sees this and idk maybe they’re somewhere where there aren’t that many people just so you know u can be attacked by a bow and arrow and henry’s like what the fuck!??!?! running over to help him and he vague recognizes him as the angel’s friend but is mainly like holy shit did you just get shot with a bow and arrow and henry’s like i’ll call an ambulance i’ll drive u to the hospital

and coop’s like no no uhh can’t go with the whole i am actually a magical being i exist in no databases and also have no money so instead goes with the i have no health insurance and henry’s like hmm. fuck.

so the next thing you know coop’s on henry’s couch and henry’s doing rudimentary first aid and coop’s really trying to hobble away because if he can just get to paige she can heal this because she unlocked that power in like s5 or s6 in a more natural progression but henry’s not letting him leave because dude you have an arrow in your chest

and now we’re doing the hurt comfort schtick with the meaningful glances and also coop is shirtless bc well you know Arrow In Chest and he’s also in henry’s apartment which is offering a very weird sense of intimacy

and there’s also this kind of banter going because coop’s like no i’m fine i can leave this is fine and henry’s like dude. please let me at least try to help you and after that you can walk right out of here and go repuncture your lung. but just. while you’re. let me do what i can

and coop’s like okay because like. well i mean a) gotta keep up appearances like he’s mortal and b) henry’s kinda fine so sure he can play doctor what’s the worse that can happen

and henry’s like okay we gotta get this arrow out of you so um. any ideas on how to do that? and coops like yeah break off the feathered part and then pull the rest through

and henry’s just like yeah? you have experience with this? and coop’s like once or twice and henry’s like what do you do?

and coop’s like ... relationship therapist

and henry’s like are relationship therapists frequently attacked by archers and coop’s like yeah more often than you’d think 

and henry removed the arrow and the actual point stabby bit of the arrow is shaped like a heart just for funsies bc it’s for cupids but henry’s looking at this like relationship therapist hunting arrow??

anyways. henry is pressing some bandages against coop’s chest to staunch the bleeding and there’s a Moment there to which henry kinda falters because woah gay thoughts?? and the pressure lightens but then o shit i’m lightening the pressure don’t do that!! so he pushes hard and coop’s like aa!! and henry’s like fuck jesus and coop just kinda laughs like i guess you don’t patch up arrow wounds that frequently and henry’s like yeah actually you’re my first!!

something something something coop’s patched up and henry gives him once of his shirts because coop’s shirt had to be cut off him bc of the arrow and we get one of the classic how to i look / starstruck moments because hell yeah we do

and blah blah blah blah blah blah blah coop makes it home and paige is like where in god’s name did u get that shirt bc it looks nothing like what coop would wear in fact in kinda reminds her of

believe it or not, henry

hot parole officer henry?

the one and only

and paige is like you slept with him??? and coop’s like close. i was shot with an arrow and he patched me up

and paige is like !!! because you know main plot evil all this that coop takes off henry’s shirt so paige can see the wound and heal it and she’s looking at henry’s handiwork and it really is the old college try but that man is not a medic so now paige is laying her hand on coop’s bare chest and phoebe walks in and immediately turns on a heel like i’ll give you guys some space!!

and paige is like no it’s fine i’m healing him he was shot main plot and phoebe’s like oh

and then later phoebe’s talking with paige like okay you and coop tho. bc like. ik ik healing or whatever. but like. 👀👀.

and tbh paige has been waiting for this because she really needs to unpack bc like i know!! because coop and i have this thing and it’s a great thing but it like can’t be a thing it’s a forbidden thing but i want it to be a thing but at the same time there’s this other guy and i can’t get him off my mind and i’m worried i’m just viewing him as a safer alternative instead of coop but like. idk he was just my backup i feel like i would be more lukewarm about it. but i’m not. like. i’m really not i kind wish i was because i don’t know if i can do a relationship again especially because he’s mortal like i can’t have someone i care for die again so maybe it’s safer just to keep what i have with coop or maybe even to explore that further? and keep henry safe? but like this and that and this and that

and phoebe’s like buzzing because it’s been a while since she’s had such an interesting love mess to tinker with so the first thing she does is go to coop just to see what she can sus out there Meanwhile paige is with speed where you ask? p3. well, outside of it

speed is painting the side of the club with this amazing artwork and clearly there’s this vein of magic running through it with certain symbols all that and he’s using paintcans and paige has her paintbrush and is adding smaller pieces as well

and she’s like hey where’d you get like that idea or thing idea because they’re all like. runes or magical somethings or others and speeds like idk. saw it in a dream maybe.

and henry rolls up because he stopped at the manor looking for paige and piper directed him here and he’s just like. like he sees this amazing work and it’s a big heart full moment and paige and speed finish up and speed adds his little signature at the bottom and leaves and henry says he’s proud of him and speed acts like he doesn’t care but he does

so henry’s like hey how’s your friend and paige is like coop? yeah, no he’s totally fine and henry’s like really???

and paige is like yeah no um. my brother in law! is an army medic. so um. he was able to. yeah : ) which isn’t technically a lie because leo was he’s just also kinda frozen in a block of ice now so whoops

and henry’s like that’s good but the real reason he’s her it to like thank paige for you know like. seeing the light like maybe henry has become too bitter and jaded so it’s good to know that there are freelance guardian angels out there keeping the balance and you know watching out for these kids so thank you for just like. being a good person.

and he also looks at her art and he’s like this your coping mechanism and paige is like yeah [tragic backstory swap time!!] and both paige and henry kinda realize how they’re like almost mirrors to each other and henry kisses her and paige kisses him back but then stops because she likes him too much which means he’s gonna die

so she’s like sry i gotta go and henry’s like oh :\ because um. well. whoops. because like. god he so rarely goes out on a limb like that and for one moment there it felt like it was all gonna align like he wasn’t gonna get ditched but paige’s green punchbuggy is already peeling out of the lot so guess not

so phoebe’s determined that coop is indeed in love with paige so all that needs is a little nudging okay she’s on mission time to go

and then next thing you know paige is storming in all in a tizzy because she kissed henry and coop’s like this is great news and paige is like no this is bad news! and coop’s like ???

and paige is like no you don’t understand it’s like i’m cursed because whenever i love someone whenever i truly love someone they die and that kiss....... it was..... i can’t have henry die

and coop is like on full cupid mode idk a cupid monologue blah blah blah love <3 and it kind of heals paige both in a sense that it quells her worries but also in a sense that being around coop always seems to make her feel better like she just feels warmer feels safer when he’s around so um. she should probably. figure something out about that. esp in regards to henry. right?

anyways. coop for some reason or another runs into henry again (call it fate) and henry’s like hey r u okay? and coop’s like yeah : ) ! and thank you, by the way, for um patching me up and stuff and henry’s like yeah no problem but um look can i ask you a favor and coop’s like sure

and henry’s like you’re a relationship therapist right and coop’s like yeah 99% sure he knows where this is going and henry’s like like family and relationship counselling and coop’s now only like 40% sure he knows where this is going and he’s like sure and henry’s like great okay so um i’ve got this parolee who [plot background story idk there needs to be some familial healing something or other] is there like. anyway you can help out with that

and coop’s like totally!! and henry’s like oh thank god because like. therapy expensive.

and now we get another one of those moments like seeing someone in their element henry sees coop as he goes basically full cupid but rather than romantic love it’s familial and henry’s like in awe and he’s also kind like wow okay i’d totally make out with that guy like right now but like. like he just kissed paige. and he knows coop and paige are friends. so like. like he can’t do that right? is that too weird?

so family therapy a success and like as established forging bonds of love strengthens cupids so coop’s like word you know if you ever need this on a more regular basis and henry’s like i promise you’re gonna regret offering that and coop’s like not a chance and henry’s like i really have like nothing to pay you with and coop’s like you make these kids lives better. i don’t need payment and henry looks over and gets is Own aha moment of oh i do have a purpose and also i love my job type thing

but. there is another task at hand. because like. are you and paige?? like??

and coop’s like me and paige??? and he’s about to say no because no they’re not but now he’s thinking about it and they are kinda more than they are not but henry’s not asking about the minutiae of it so now henry’s just watching him go on this face journey before going why do you ask : ) and henry’s like no nothing i just thought like well i don’t know what i thought

and coop’s like haha yeah well you know it’s um. haha yeah! you know how it is. i mean. paige is amazing and henry’s like yeah she really is and coop’s like yeah and like she’s just got all this love in her heart and henry’s like i know!! and she’s so smart like you should see what she’s done with speed she got him this place where he can put up his own art and like blah blah blah and at this point it is just coop and henry praising paige to each other for about five minutes before they kinda realize what’s going on and they’re like hmm. well this is kinda weird. cuz now we both kinda sound in love with her.

and coop’s like listen. i know paige really likes you. like a lot

and henry’s like woah i’m gonna stop you there because um. like. i mean i don’t wanna sound weird but like. like we did kiss and then she kinda just ran off and i mean literally ran hopped into her car drove away type thing so. i don’t really think so. so :\

and coop’s like no i mean like okay yeah that did happen but dude you’ve gotta understand she’s had so much loss and henry’s like no i know she told be about her parents and coop’s voice gets real low leans in because this is Top Secret information and he’s like it goes beyond that and henry’s like what and coop’s like her past two boyfriends both died. one from a heart attack, the other was hit by a car (well, no richard was not hit by a car but when all the magic inside you fucks you up that bad evidently the wreck that’s left kinda looks like you were hit by a semi. ouch) and coop’s like so paige kinda just. thinks she’s cursed.

and henry’s like oh. because my god. that’s a lot to process. and that like. like makes so much sense because like if that happened to him he really wouldn’t be able to date again hell that did not happen to him and he’s already barely able to date bc of how afraid he is of getting hurt

but coop’s out here like henry it’s not you like i promise she really likes you i mean you’re a good man and you’re brave and you’re passionate and like you’re hot, obviously and coop theoretically starts complimenting henry from paige’s point of view but then it very clearly starts to dissolve into coop’s pov and we’re still riding that chemical high of the In Your Element passion henry has for coop added onto the good person bonus of yes i’ll continue to help you with this endeavor for literally no benefit and now he’s just rattling off compliments to henry and henry’s just like oh jeez 😳😳🥰

and there’s just like. the briefest moment of henry’s eyes darting down to coop’s lips and coop’s daze is kinda broken and he realizes that he’s just been telling henry how foioine he is to his face and there’s a moment spellbound lookin into each others eyes like damn this is kinda gay & then they’re making out

and then henry’s like ohhh my god what am i doing what have i done oh know because you’re paige’s friend you like paige and i kissed her earlier today and now i’m oh my god this is a bad idea right? this is a bad idea?

and coop’s thinking on it because like okay he has been trying to pair paige and henry together a) because they’d be cute together and she clearly likes him but also b) because he really likes her and he can’t be with her bc he’s a cupid so at least if she’s with someone else who she loves he can be happy knowing she’s happy. but now he’s here with henry and he shouldn’t be because Again he’s trying to pair paige with henry and he can’t be with henry bc as previously stated cupids can’t actually have relationships but he shouldn’t even be thinking that because henry isn’t for him but even if he was which he isn’t it wouldn’t work because he’s a cupid so um. yeah. this is a bad idea

yeah

yeah

no they’re makin out again.

anyways. l8r at p3 someone else who owns a local business sees the art on the wall outside and is like yo who did that because i would totally pay them to do idk my food truck or something and piper’s like i’ll tell u exactly who did that

so idk i think legally since speed’s a minor and a parolee henry has to be involved in the job getting process actually wait speed just turned 18. idk what any of this means but we’ll say henry needs to be there so piper gave paige the food truck guys digits and paige passes on the news to speed and henry and like. paige shows up at henry’s office to be like good news!!

and to level with you henry thought that like. after making out with coop maybe his feeling for paige would dissipate like maybe he was secretly gay this whole time and paige was just a safe route to project those feeling but paige comes in with this smile that puts the goddamn stars to shame and henry’s like nope!! still in love with her!!

and paige is like okay because like this is all set you know like this could even lead to a career in art for speed like and henry’s like yes absolutely but now that the initial glow of that has worn off they’re both kinda remembering that the last time they saw each other they kissed and then paige bolted so yeah they should probably address that

and paige is like look i want to apologize for just kind of. running out the other day. that really wasn’t. it wasn’t right and i know this sounds dumb but it really wasn’t about you i’m just i’ve been in this weird place and i do like you henry like i really do so i don’t want you to think 

and henry’s like i feel like i kind of apologize too because i kinda made out with your friend and paige pauses because like she really has no friends well i guess besides coop but like there’s and henry tacks on coop to clarify and paige just snorts laughing

like she has no idea why that’s so funny but it just kinda is like. what!!

and henry’s like yeah but it was like. it’s. he really likes you paige he really does care for you i mean i really care for you too and henry’s kind of playing both sides here because he does like. really like paige. and that’s why he wants her to be happy and it’s her choice who she feels who she’d be most happy with whether that’s hm or coop because honestly coop is p amazing henry wouldn’t be burnt losing to him because coop is a great guy and paige is just watching him ramble smiling and henry realizes he doesn’t know what he’s saying anymore so he just kind of trails off and gets kind of lost in paige’s smile because like. wow : )

and paige is just kind of there processing that information because um wow who could have seen this coming and honestly she’s still not over coop kissing henry that’s just so unbelievable entertaining to her she’s so gonna hafta prod coop about it later because dude what?? what? bro. bro. bro. like. like the two guys she’s in love with kissed like bro what!!!! lmao she would pay money to see that how tf did that happen. she would have loved to have been there. that’s insane. she really wished she was there. like. really wished she was there. hmm. should she stew on that a little more?

and henry’s like. this is awkward. i’m sorry. i don’t want things to be weird between us. and paige is like henry i think things have been weird between us since i first picked an argument with you in an alleyway. and henry’s like true!! and they’re laughing and there’s a beat and henry’s like i think i fell in love with you in that moment. and paige is like yeah?

and henry’s just. i mean like. look at her <3 but like. she deserves. like she deserves the best there is and he’s just some guy like some jaded hardass who lives in a crappy apartment and who always forgets how to do the right thing it seems not to mention all his fucking baggage like. she deserves better. 

and paige sees him kinda retreat and like she kind of pulls out of the moment too because she loves henry she does but like that fear that he’s gonna die is still there and she wants to fight it she just doesn’t know if she can but like. she really really does like him.

and now they’re both standing there again another moment turned to dust in the wind now they’re just two people standing there incredibly normal about it yep just two people nope paige is kissing henry ope okay yep they’re making out and boom someone’s knocking on henry’s office door o quick act natural because hi henry heard you needed like the legal paperwork because speed’s getting a job here you go and henry’s like 👍 thank you very obviously flushed and his coworker is like. what the fuck is going on in that office. but like. doesn’t really care enough to find the answer to that question.

so paige is like you should come to p3 l8r tonight to like celebrate speed getting a job blah blah blah blah and henry’s like i will be there

so later paige is getting dolled up in a fire outfit just adding the final touches when coop shows up bc phoebe said you needed to see me? (with phoebe’s strategy fully being in mind that paige looks hella fly right now but also is still in the manor an area paige and coop have kind of curated as their space also like once she goes to p3 it’s simply too loud too crowded to have a heart to heart like what is about to happen here which she would listen all unfold but piper unfortunately dragged her away to help with the boys but i’m sure it’s all going well)

and paige is like ....nope. and coop’s like ah. well. you look great. going to see henry? which he asks that question like he’s walking on very thin ice and paige is like yeah and i gotta say i can’t believe you kissed henry before you ever kissed me and coop just laughs like well!!

and paige is laughing too but there’s this undercurrent of you still haven’t kissed me :/ and coop’s like i take it henry told you and paige is like yep. and then made a very convincing campaign in your favor on how you’re evidently in love with me and you’re probably my better option, he loves me, too, but just can’t seem to hold a candle to you

and coop’s laughing and he’s like that sounds like something henry’d say, he’s really. he’s got a lot of love he just doesn’t seem to think he’s worth it.

and paige is like you think he’s worth it though

and coop’s like i do. you think he’s worth it too. and paige is like i do.

and there’s a moment of stillness because what the fuck are any of them doing and paige is like we can’t keep doing this. and coop’s like gonna hafta be a bit more specific there because i think i’ve broken more rules than i can count in the past 24 hours. and paige is wanna make that one more and coop’s like !? and then paige kisses him and coop’s like okay now’s the time where i would really love some clarification

and paige is like. well. i had to kiss you, right? and coop’s like sure? and paige is like because i’ve wanted to for the longest time because i keep pretending like i’m not in love with you because well you know you know me better than almost anyone else but like. i also love henry. and so i had to kiss you. as a test.

and coop’s like ...did i pass?

and paige is like that wasn’t the test and coop’s like what was and paige is like i don’t know. to see where my love is. to see if i love you or if i love henry or if it’s all just infatuation and relfections distorting how i feel and coop’s like okay. so... what’s the answer?

and paige is like i love henry. but then she kisses coop again and is like but i think i love you, too. and they’re doing that thing where they lack bubble space when they talk i mean paige’s head is basically on his chest and coop’s hands are on her waist and coop’s like okay. so where do you want to go from here.

because he’s a cupid you know his top priority is love in its purest form so if like paige’s love for henry like outweighs her love for him he will pretend not to be crushed and move on like he will. he’s saying he’ll do anything in the name of love but really he’ll just do anything for paige.

and paige is like i think you should kiss henry again and coop laughs and he’s like don’t joke about that because complete candor i totally would he is... amazing

and paige is like yeah, i know, and i’m not joking and it kind of clicks for coop like !! polyromanticism!!

anyways. paige And coop go to p3 and henry’s there and sees paige And coop and he’s like uh oh oh no because if paige chose coop like he’s happy for them he really is except he’s also kind of not because then he kind of loses paige And coop and um. that’s kind of a two hit KO. but wait!! that is not the case! what’s this??

anyways. quirky hijinks of sorts when phoebe sees that paige came home with henry and she’s like damn. my plan failed. and the next morning piper’s like i see ur plan worked and phoebe’s like yeah no need to rub it in and piper’s like ??? dude paige totally hooked up with coop last night and phoebe’s like no?? that was the other guy that was henry

and piper’s like that was definitely coop?? and phoebe’s like piper not every tall man with dark hair looks the same and piper’s like no shit do you think i don’t know what coop looks like he practically lives here and phoebe’s like yeah that’s how i know the guy paige brought home w her was Not Coop and piper’s like do you need new glasses and phoebe’s like shut up i’m right and piper’s like no ur not!!

and later that day they’re like. all brewing a potion in the attic and like while we have you here...... did you hook up with henry or coop last night and phoebe’s like because piper thought it was coop when i very clearly saw henry and piper’s like yeah phoebe hasn’t been sleeping well lately i think she’s started seeing things so go ahead prove me right and paige is just laughing like okay so i guess i gotta introduce u guys to my 2 boyfriends

[heartau]

Domaine de la Romanée | J.JH [M]

Genre: rich kid!au - angst, smut, slow burn-ish, pining, fluff Word count: 41.2k (i am so sorry.) Comments: ok.... i got rly engrossed in the plot and world building so i went super buckwild on this. i apologize for that. i worked on this for a whole month + 2 weeks so .... enjoy! i’d love love looove hearing some feedback! also UNEDITED.  Warnings: very, very, very explicit sexual content - rough sex, choking, throat-fucking, degradation, dirty talk, oral sex, dom!jaehyun, sub!reader, overstimulation, unprotected, breeding kink | strong language, various sexual scenes, infidelity(? kinda). 

Even the most pure become tainted when their eyes meet his. This was doomed from the start; you knew it was dangerous, you knew it was bad - but all those thoughts left your mind the second he made you feel good. 

[ ⚠ ] This piece involves a very problematic scenario (ie. infidelity). Please note that I do not promote nor advocate it. This is a work of pure fiction, involving a plot that is compelling to read and write about. Please read the trigger warnings listed and assess if you are comfortable to proceed - I do not wish to harm or trigger anybody. Adding on, while this work of fiction features real people, I would like to remind you that how I portray them does not, in any way, correlate to how they truly act in real life - I am just using them as characters for a plot. I do not wish to defame or insult anybody, I am just here to practice my passion in writing and entertain you.

Domaine de la Romanée - Field of Romance

You eyed the roses placed within the glass vase situated in the center of the table and wondered to yourself when this monotonous gala will reach its conclusion. The Versace gown that hugs your body has already started to itch at your skin and the corset that your stylists forced you into before leaving for the jubilee eludes you from making numerous rounds to the dessert table, but your mother’s joyful grin and welcoming arms lead you to believe that the night is far from reaching its end. Unable to slouch over in your seat, all you are able to do is sit stiff against the backrest of your plush velvet chair, fingers pinched at the stem of your glass of wine, swirling the liquid of domaine de la romanée-cont.

This gala was all your mother’s proposal for her new Spring collection releasing just a few days prior, ensembles of pastel and bold colours rolling out onto the runway and fostering a flock of people to rush into your boutiques littered across the globe. Your great-great-grandmother was the founder of Decoré, established in the year 1882, and the brand overtook the fashion industry by storm, raking millions and millions of dollars into your family name. She, who passed the company down to her daughter, who passed it onto her own daughter, who passed it onto your mother, were all eager with the idea of leading their own business. Forthwith, in a few years time, it’ll be your own turn in leading this empire - and you couldn’t be more than fervent in finally having the brand in your own two hands.

Of course, your mother thinks the same, as to why this celebration doubles as a matchmaking service for you, her only child. 

“(Y/N), dear!” she calls your name, hushed by the constant classical music reverberating from the string ensemble. You turn to meet her direction, eyes automatically moving to the man she was pulling along with her, and for the nth time that night, wished that you weren’t stuck in such a tight corset so you could guzzle up every wine bottle in sight in order to avoid the imminent doom. “There is someone I’d like you to meet!” 

Yukhei “Lucas” Xuxi Wong the IV, whom most people know as Wong Yukhei, whom most people refer to as only Lucas. The amount of names that the man holds equates nowhere near the amount of distaste you hold for him; if it weren’t for the grossly iniquitous personality that you have come to know and hear by virtue of the internet, you would have already been charmed by his sharp, dusky eyes and spellbinding smile. Your poor mother, far too oblivious, beams in what you could only describe as acceptance.

“This is Yukhei Wong the IV,” your mother grins as Lucas pulls a chair out for her to sit on. He smooths down his tan Hermés suit before sitting down in the plush seat on your other side, already attempting to send provocative eyes your way. “He is the next in line for the chief executive position of the Wong Institute of Medicine, you know, the beautiful university in New York? Yukhei, this is my daughter, (Y/N)!” 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Yukhei.” you say, feigning a kind smile as you outstretch your hand towards the tall, handsome man. 

“Please, call me Lucas,” he coquettes, taking your hand and leaning down to press a kiss on your knuckles. For a split second, you are unsure if the cause of the slight taste of domaine de la romanée-cont travelling back up your esophagus was induced by this wanton or if it’s due to your corset digging into your stomach. “It’s very nice to meet you as well, dear. You are just as beautiful as you are in the photo shoots I’ve seen. Even more so, really.”

You throw him a simper as you gently pull your hand away from him, rejection clear on your expression but unbeknownst to him. You’ve read up on countless articles about this man, how doomed the reputation of Wong Institute was going to be once he gets ahold of the company; limitless cheating scandals, a myriad of DUIs, and multitudes of other alleged crimes, you’re almost confused, if not horrified, at how on earth your mother would think he’d be a perfect candidate for you - but the glimmering chandelier that must have cost millions above you is the token answer to that.

“Lucas was telling me about how the last of his father’s inquiries are wrapping up before KIM is being passed onto him. Isn’t that right, Lucas?” your mother urges the man, who looks at you with a type of hunger in his eyes that you’d rather not question him about. “You two youngsters have a chat, I have to go welcome my guests!”

“Yes, of course!” Lucas tears his eyes off your body for the first time since meeting him only seconds ago, sending a kilowatt smile at your mother, who pivots on her heel before walking back towards the entrance hallway. “My father is such an inspirational man, he’s built an empire of medical resources. So many of the world’s renowned doctors graduated from our institute - but, to be truthful, I’m terrified of taking that empire into my own hands without someone I can call my wife by my side to cheer me on.” 

You try all you can to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “Is that so?” leaves your mouth in bitter fashion.

Ever since you had become of age five years ago, your mother has been desperately trying to match you with a whole slew of men to wed from her business networks, planning blind dates for you and offering you their numbers. From medicine, to theatrics, you have encountered every type of man possible in just the last few years and yet, none of them come quite close to your savour. Either they were far too goal-oriented for you to envision a loving future, far too dull for you to envision a happy future, or far too… abhorrent for you to envision a healthy future. Perhaps your mother knew of Lucas’ true colours but only considered the business venture and the large percentage of the stock he would inherit from the Wong Institute - but other than that, you are stumped as to why she would even contemplate a marriage between the two of you, fields of expertise far too wide and vast from each other.

“Yes, it is,” Lucas says, eyes casting down as if he were reenacting a monologue of a play. “But it’s hard, you know? I haven’t found the perfect woman to marry yet; they’re either far too childish, or are plain gold-diggers, which, frankly, isn’t really my taste.”

“Hm.” you answer bluntly, taking another sip of your savoury wine. 

As he continues to drone on and on about his ideals and morals, none of which you are inclined to believe at all, you find yourself falling short from the wine in your glass, having already drunk all of the liquid. 

“Would you like me to get you some more, (Y/N)?” Lucas asks, cocking his head to the side, a gummy smile stretching on his face. 

You shake your head. “It’s alright, I’ll get it myself. I’m in need of a refresher, anyways,” you stand, legs slightly numb from where your corset pinched your waist. “It was very nice talking to you, Lucas.”

“Of course, of course,” he says, standing up as well. “Can I see you again sometime?”

You scrunch your nose, and for the first time since meeting him, he flashes a dejected look in his eye. “You’ll have to book an appointment with my manager.” 

And with that, you pivot on your heel and head towards the refreshments, leaving a stunned Lucas in your wake, praising yourself for finishing your wine rather than dumping the remnants of it over his Hermés suit. You let out a sigh as you find solace in the classical music, reading the labels of each wine bottle displayed in rows on the table. Finding the bottle for domaine de la romanée-conti, you request one of the caterers to fill your glass, and within seconds, you find yourself standing in the corner of the venue, far from where you originally sat. You studied the decorations adorned throughout the hall, very much in theme with your mother’s Spring collection - fabrics of pastel silk and decorative flowers suspending from the ceiling above, causing chandeliers to look like floweret bulbs and to emit a slight, coral glow. 

“Quite peculiar that the great (Y/N) (Y/L/N) is standing in the corner and not conversing with the guests of her mother’s own gala,” a merry voice causes you to look up from your swirling wine, breaking out into your first smile of the night at the sight of your best friend. 

Joohyun “Irene” Kim, is the granddaughter of the founder of Bae Institute of Fashion, a very renowned university of design established in the hills of Beverly and Hollywood. You had met her the first year you had gone to school, automatically sticking to each other like magnets. Although she may be a quiet woman herself, she was relatively much more confident than you were as a growing child; she had helped you bloom from your shell. You are an only child, but ever since meeting Irene, you only feel as though you’ve grown with a sister.

“Irene,” you smile, crossing your arms over your chest. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Of course I came!” she giggles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “How could I miss the unravelling of Decoré’s Spring Collection, especially so, since some graduates of the institute collaborated on the subject. I actually saw you not too long ago, conversing with Wong Yukhei,” she leans against the wall beside you. “Anything juicy?”

“Not so,” you let out a sigh. “It’s just mother trying to get me to meet another man for marriage. Although, I’m not sure why she would think that man is a good choice.” 

“Evidently so, last I heard, he splurged half of his institute’s money on a night spent in a hotel in Italy with dozens of women on his arms,” Irene sighs, shaking her head. “Why does your mother insist on you marrying? You’re still a young woman, you have a life to live first - and besides, it’s not like any of the guys she’s found for you are all that interesting either.”

You let out a snicker, shaking your head. “You have no right in lecturing me, Irene, aren’t you engaged?” you quirked an eyebrow at your best friend while she rolls her eyes at you. “Frankly, I’ve never seen you so happy than the night Seokjin proposed. It was quite a sight, really.”

“Oh shut up,” she pouts, lightly hitting you on your shoulder. “Once you find the man you’ve been waiting for, you’ll know the feeling exactly.” 

The rest of the night is spent with you glued to her arm, following her around the venue as she greets the people that she knows. Irene has always been just a little more social than you have ever been, and now with an engagement ring on her finger, it only brings more topics of discussion with her. You had the chance to meet her fiancé, Kim Seokjin, as well, proving himself a good and commendable man; he held admiring eyes for only her and had an air of genuinity - you felt the inkling of envy building in your stomach, not because you wished for Seokjin to love you, but because your best friend had found a good man to settle down with, something that doesn’t seem at all possible for you. 

As the night continues on, you find yourself seated at their table, watching as individuals adorned in brand names from Vuitton to Marchesa walk past you with high chins and flutes of liquor. The string ensemble has shifted their focus from classical and moved onto jazz, and you’re almost sure they’ve been playing the same measure for the past twelve minutes. Sighing as the couple beside you converse as if they’re in their own world, you continue to look around the room, finding your mother rearranging a pot of decorative flowers to her liking right next to a panoramic window. Your eyes shift to the other side of the window, and you instinctively sit forward in your chair.

Clad in a dark grey suit by Hemsworth and a black tie tucked behind his blazer, a handsome man of tall stature does the same thing as you, watching individuals walk past and interact amongst themselves, swirling cheval blanc in his wine glass. His hair, an ash blonde, a dye job that works wonders for his creamy skin tone, is slicked back messily, a few strands of hair slipping through the layer of gel and hanging in front of his forehead. His face, square in shape, held a juxtaposition of features, sharp eyes, but a soft nose; sharp lips, but a sleek jawline and fleshy cheeks. He looked stunning, far more stunning than the men you’ve met throughout the last five years; he looked as if he walked out of an impressionist painting. 

Just before you were about to tear your eyes off of the man, his head turns to your direction, automatically meeting your eyes. For a split second, his gaze tears, only to return boring into yours again, which causes you to gasp slightly. His face remains expressionless as he continues your eye contact, before he surely looks away from you one last time. Your hand bunches up the soft blue silk of your Versace gown before spinning towards Irene. 

“Irene.” you grab her hand, diverting her attention away from her fiancé. 

“Yes? What is it?” she turns to you. You let out a puff of air before continuing your sentence.

You turn your head again to see if the man is still there, to which he was, eyes back to focusing on the rest of the crowd lining the halls. “That man over there, in the dark grey, next to the window,” you whisper to her. “Who is he? I’ve never seen him before.”

Her eyes follow your line of sight with an expression of joy since at last, you’ve finally found a man you showed at least an inkling of interest in, but once her eyes land on the man in question, her expression falls.

“No.” her voice turns grave, much to your panic. “(Y/N), don’t you dare even think about it.”

You widen your eyes in confusion, searching her face to find clues if she were just joking - but her expression remains serious. “Why?” you ask her. “Who is he?”

“That’s Jay Jung,” she tells you, grasping your hands. “Better known as Jung Jaehyun. He’s next in line for the position of CEO for Jung & Associates, you know, that really famous law firm? They’re a family full of lawyers - they come from old money, (Y/N), they’re extremely powerful. They’re not here to play dress-up like the rest of us.” 

You furrow your brows. You’ve heard about Jung & Associates before in fleeting conversations. Always on the topic of them winning innumberal cases and trials, or articles that litter your ears during outings of his father merging with and overpowering other law firms. You recall hearing your mother talking about Jung & Associates on the phone while you sat in the lounging area scrolling through your Twitter feed, just a few weeks ago.

“What? We come from old money as well, Irene.” you urge her on, not quite understanding her rejectful view of the man. The two of you also come from old money, Decoré and the BAE Institute have been established for generations and still continue to stick around by blood lineage, so you were unsure why she seemed so rattled by the man and his family name.

“Yes, but we’re different,” Irene pauses. “Our companies collaborate with each other, because we can, and because our environments and industries are light-hearted enough. Jung & Associates does not collaborate - they purchase the smaller companies, no matter what field of expertise the company aims for, and whether they like it or not.” She glances back towards Jaehyun, who had begun to walk back into the lounging area, walking past the plush velvet chairs. “I know that Jung Jaehyun holds the ego of five men, he thinks of himself as if he is on a pedestal.” 

You watch as the man gazes at the decorations strewn across the gallery, a flat expression gracing his angelic features. It’s quite disheartening that a man so attractive as he could possess such alleged revolting qualities - but you aren’t shocked; throughout the years of being taught by your mother on how to pull the ropes of a company as a woman, it isn’t like you’re unaccustomed to men forging their own skills in order to get to the top. You’ve learned that the hard way.

“Why does he look like that? He looks miserable.” you scoff, eyeing him as he continues to walk past an array of your mother’s guests, avoiding their widened eyes and hushed whispers. He looks as if he’d rather be anywhere else but to be present in this gala, which is a feeling you associate with, but you would never say that out loud. 

“I’m not sure, he usually has the semblance of a smile on - but that’s mostly when he’s with his brothers,” she says, watching him along with you. “It’s peculiar that he’s here by himself.” 

The faintest feeling of apprehension bubbles up in your stomach once more, but you shake it off. This man is still young, the law firm hasn’t been passed down to him yet - he’s probably just here for his own amusement and pleasure, and was wholly disappointed by the lack of fun and the droning jazz music. Whatever the case, you still find yourself unable to look away from him, taking in his beauty, finding yourself wish, just for a split second, that the rumours about him are nowhere near true. He seats himself at a table near the center of the ballroom, and his eyes flashes to yours once again, his gaze lingering on your eyes. This time, you’re the first to look away.

-----

The silk chiffon robe that adorns your body designed specifically for you by Montenero is a price that even your shoes tucked away in their own walk-in closet cannot reach. The hush humdrum of french chatter originating from people passing underneath your hotel balcony is calming to you, having growing used to the booming noises that come with residing deep within a city. October is your favourite time of year to visit Bordeaux, France, as the pesky throngs of tourists finally dwindle away and due to the sun deciding to emit heat much gentler than any other season. Even the staff of Hôtel Le Palais Gallien bear a jolly expression this time of year.

It is occasions like this when you would find yourself sojourned in this city for a breather from your hectic work life, photoshoots and fashion shows demanding your occupancy more than seventy hours per week, the cool evening air kissing your cheek bones as you breath out a blissful sigh. Just on the 7 rue Ferrere inside an old warehouse building built of cobblestones and brick, was an exhibition held by your favourite photographer, John Suh - rather than flashy ornaments strewn over sets and models posing themselves in an avant-garde manner, he always pursued natural lighting, habitual individual quirks; simplistic, comfortable, authentic. You had always wished to collaborate with him on a photoshoot, but his schedule would always turn up booked; you would have to wait years to be able to book an appointment with him.

You smooth down the slightly scrunched fabric of your lilac Rachel Parcell summer dress, leather satchel by Kate Spade in tow as you step out of the sleek black car; you had told your chauffeur to meet you at the same spot in about two hours and a half, wanting to experience the exhibition in full on your own. Journalists and cameramen have already bombarded the entrance, yelling multiple queries for you to answer, ranging from questioning your enthusiasm on the upcoming exhibition or if your mother has any plans releasing a new collection before the year ends. You are only thankful for the Tom Ford sunglasses that you pull down to perch on your nose, blocking the frantic flashing lights of cameras, making your way into the cobblestone building with the help of the doorman.

When the wooden doors close and the yells of journalist cease behind the doorways, your ears are calmed with the sound of classical music, playing faintly along the gallery. It echoes against gravel walls, the effect soothing to you, encompassed in art. The photographs, stuck against large, plain, white boards, lit with dim lighting, is your first priority, slipping your sunglasses off and perching them back on your head. You study each one, carefully, analyzing each snapshot eagerly. 

“(Y/N)!” you hear a familiar voice, and you quickly spin around, meeting the cordial eyes of your best friend’s fiancé. Seokjin strolls towards you with a casual gait in his step. “Fancy seeing you here!”

“Hello, Seokjin,” you smile and nod your head towards him. You take note of the wine glass pinched between his fingers, telling yourself to make rounds to the beverages soon. “I never took you as the person to enjoy fine arts.” you joke, watching him chuckle in response.

“I am the grandson of the guy who founded Kim Productions,” he tells you in a light tone. Seokjin’s grandfather is the chief executive of Kim Pictures, a prominent production company known by their several high-grossing films and featurettes; he doesn’t show it on his face nor in his attitude though - he is down-to-earth, which is admirable; men in this environment seem to forget their manners and morals. “However, I’m really just here to support one of my best friends.”

“You’re friends with John Suh?” you question him.

He nods, pressing his lips together which causes his cheeks to puff out slightly. “Yep!” he answers. “We went to the same university together, took the same courses and whatnot. One of the nicest men I’ve ever met. He actually goes by Johnny - he uses John to sound more professional.” 

You nod your head in understanding, attempting to keep your excitement under wraps. You couldn’t bare risking your clean repute to be tainted by pestering Kim Seokjin for a collaboration with your favourite photographer. A smile finds their way on your lips before you open your mouth again. “I’m a very big fan,” you tell him. “His pictures are some of the best I’ve ever seen.”

“Really?” Seokjin asks you, lifting his wine glass to his lips and taking a momentary sip. “I never took you as the type to be engrossed in photography.” 

“I am a model.” you laugh, using the same tone he had used with you prior.

“You got me there,” he jokes. “Johnny’s actually doing an interview for Aesthetica right now, but perhaps once he’s finished I can take you to meet him!” 

“Are you willing to?” you ask him, unsure if he feels as if he’s forced to do so, or if he’s genuinely happy to let you meet his good friend. He nods, an authentic smile gracing his features, and you push back the will to grin in a cheerful manner of excitement, a small, thankful smile finding its way onto your face.

It takes all for you to keep that calm, serene beam on your face though, when you finally come face to face with one of your heroes. He stands tall, taller than you would have ever imagined a person to be, with long brown locks that sway in front of his face and square shoulders that slightly protrude forward due to endless nights of editing his own photos. A knit black sweater by Valentino curtains his body, fit beige trousers covering his endless legs and ending with polished black shoes that you can see your reflection in. 

“Ah,” he says, clasping his hands together in excitement. “You’re (Y/N) (Y/L/N)! I’ve seen you in many advertisements and fashion magazines - my husband is a very big fan!” 

You are in heaven at the sound of your idol recognizing you, finally letting your excited grin show on your face as you consent to his kiss upon your knuckles. You had heard of John Suh being cheerful and pleasant through many accounts, you are aware of his philanthropic duties, constantly bringing awareness to the troubles around the world. Often does he donate the money that he’s cashed in from his projects to multiple charities - these moments seem to be the chit-chat that takes place around garden parties and other functions frequently. His husband, Chittaphon, who is known solely as Ten, is a prominent model of whom he had met during a shoot with Vogue. You remember their love story being placed on television, articles littered all over your social media; a charming model known for his playboy repute has fallen for a peaceful, relaxing photographer - their love story is something you could only dream about and desire as your own.

“I’m so excited to meet you,” you tell him, face red with enthusiasm. “I'm a very, very big fan of your works - I’ve always wished for us to collaborate.” 

He lets out a deep laugh, hand resting on his stomach. “Actually, I’ve always tried to book an appointment with you, but your manager would only tell me of dates years into the future.” 

Your jaw drops. “No way,” you let out a laugh. “I’ve been doing the same thing for you!”

The three of you, including Seokjin, converse like old college friends, quickly becoming close as you exchange laughs and slight quips; you and Johnny excitedly make plans for a shoot, promising to clear out the least important schedules in your itinerary. Wholly excited, you’ve got to owe everything to Seokjin, who was able to make this possible for you. As the event nears its end, people beginning to clear out of the warehouse, you find a new friend in Johnny, thankful for the opportunity to make acquaintance with him.

You leave briefly in the midst of the two men’s conversation about their college days to make rounds to the beverages, letting the server pour domaine de la romanée-conti into your wine glass, letting the heavenly liquid attack your taste buds and closing your eyes in delight. The knowledge of your mother not being present with you, having stayed behind in Seoul to run the reigns of the company building thusly not breathing down your neck to keep your eyes open for a potential future husband, is something equivalent to freedom. You listen to classical music playing softly along the gallery for a few seconds, Franz Schubert absorbing into your eardrums, before opening your eyes to find your way back to Johnny and Seokjin. 

You only find yourself frozen when your eyes open to familiar ones staring back at you. 

His hair is still an ash blond, styled much like the first time you saw him, a few loose strands escaping the net of hair gel and kissing the front of his forehead. His lips, which were pulled into a slight scowl when you had first seen them, had the slightest sight of a smirk, the corner of his lip raised faintly. He’s dressed in a fit, pressed, light grey suit by Ted Baker, Daniel Wellington watch peeking from his exposed wrist when he pulls his hand to his lips to sip from his veuve clicquot champagne. Yet, even with the details of his dress and face, you find your eyes stuck on one feature; his eyes. Never tearing from yours, his brown eyes hold an emotion that you cannot decipher. 

It takes you a nanosecond to shake yourself out of your trance, averting your eyes away from his gaze as you pivot on your heel, making your way back through the gallery towards Seokjin and Johnny. You are unsure as to why Jaehyun is here, much like the first time you had seen him at your mother’s galal; you recall Irene talking about his personality and morals, he does not seem like the type to enjoy fine arts. A heat crawls up your neck upon realizing how you must have looked like a deer in headlights upon meeting his eyes, cursing at yourself for being so brash with your staring, feeling the heat cloud your cheeks when you realize he probably must have recognized you from the first time you had seen him - there is no way he will not recognize you now. 

“There you are,” Johnny says, raising his glass when you return. “I was starting to think you had gotten lost. I was going to ask one of my guards to search for a short woman in lilac!”

You shake your head fervently, bubbling up a laugh that didn’t sound so nervous much to your favour. “No, no,” you smile, letting out a sigh in attempt to let go of what had just happened. “I just got distracted.”

You will yourself to catch up on the conversation that you had missed while you were stuck staring into the umber eyes of Jung Jaehyun, but it is all that you could think about, finding yourself falling quiet and finding interest in the way the wine in your glass swirls. The two men did not really notice as they were in deep conversation, and you did not mind. Hushed under your thoughts, their voices become familiar enough for you to decipher - until a new voice began to cut through a conversation. 

“Brother,” a deep, booming baritone voice sounds, and you grip the stem of your wine glass with tension. You glance upwards, Jaehyun right in front of you now, hand on Johnny’s shoulder, whose entire body has gone stiff. His eyes are cast at Johnny, deftly avoiding yours. Brother?, you wonder. They are related? “Father called, he’s had a flight booked for the both of us back to Seoul tonight. We should get going now.”

“Jaehyun, it seems as if you do not understand that this is my exhibition,” Johnny turns to the slightly shorter man. He seems to visibly relax but his fist that hangs loose on his side is still clenched. “It will be rude of me to leave the guests that came to support me so early. You go on that flight. I can handle my own payments, I’ll catch the next flight out.”

Jaehyun huffed, his jaw clenching. From a distance, he was beautiful, but up close, he looks unreal; his lips much plumper and skin similar to porcelain, spotless. You look towards Seokjin, unsure of how to act, but even the confident, humorous man finds solace in staring into his wine glass. “These are father’s orders,” Jaehyun tells him, voice authoritative. “He wants us home by tonight.”

“And we will be,” Johnny says through a grit smile. “I’ll just be late. Please, Jaehyun; tonight is my night. Don’t let your family business ruin this for me as well.”

You are confused as you listen to them, still reeling from the information that you had uncovered that Johnny and Jaehyun are related to each other. Your family business, you repeat in your head. He words his sentence as if he was not a part of the family, and judging by his body language, it seems as if that is what he wishes. Your thoughts are interrupted when Jaehyun lets out a loud sigh, eyes dark as he glares at Johnny. He backs away without a word, before he pivots on his heel, and in a fleeting moment his eyes lock with yours; you suck in a breath as the nanosecond passes you by. His lips, this time, do not form into a smirk, but are pressed into a thin line. Withdrawing back into the crowd, he is the first to tear his eyes away. 

“Sorry about him,” Johnny breathes after a few moments of silence, perching the glass of wine atop a table beside him. He reaches to scratch the back of his neck, grimacing. “My brother is not usually like that. It’s just... he’s stressed about the law firm.”

You nod, listening intently, hoping for Johnny to continue into a discussion about his relation to Jaehyun, wanting to know more about the Jung family, desiring answers to the questions that you have conjured in your brain, but he does not mention it again after that. As the night comes to a close, you have already eased up from the short moment you shared with the enigmatic man; as the night comes to a close, you find yourself exchanging numbers with Johnny, proving him to be a friend you will keep for a long time; as the night comes to a close, the dark, impenetrable eyes that lingers on your form is something you stay oblivious to.

-----

The heat of the Philippine sun beating into your skin is nothing short of pleasant, the scent of salt water lacing its way into your nostrils. The grains of sand that dig into your skin bears no competition to the softness of your carpeted bedroom floors back home You are in paradise; actually, you are in Cebu, Philippines, tanning underneath the blazing sun in Plantation Bay, which is most possibly the closest to paradise you will ever meet. It is after you and Irene had finished volunteering at a children’s center situated in the middle of Cebu City, finding solace in making friends with the children and helping them with whatever you could. Children have always been a soft spot for you, you absolutely adored them and were a natural with handling them, so you jumped at the chance to experience this when Irene father had brought it up in conversation with the both of you. 

“There is a live band playing tonight at the Palermo restaurant,” says Irene, voice deafened by the loud crashing of the ocean waves in front of you as well as the clamorous yelling of children and other people staying in the resort around the pool area. “We should check it out. It’s been a while since I’ve heard music other than jazz and classical being played live.” 

You nod, agreeing to her plans, before the two of you rest in peaceful silence once more, taking in the heat of the sun. You find yourself hours later, in the hotel room that the two of you shared, placing a Salina crop top by Reformation atop your Burberry printed bikini top, and high waisted denim shorts you had acquired from a fast fashion brand while scavenging through one of the malls. Placing some lip gloss and mascara on before ensuring that Irene was ready, the both of you eagerly leave to head to the ground floor, where the restaurant is situated. 

As soon as you step foot into the restaurant, the air is filled with nothing but of music and the smell of savoury foods. You had acquired a taste for many of the dishes, finding it fitting to your tastes, so you were excited to have a full meal and enjoy some music that night. A band composed of four people stand atop a panel, jamming out to local music, people singing along joyfully, which makes you grin in delight. You do not know how to speak in Bisaya, knowing only a few short phrases here and there, but the tune is familiar to you, and so you hum along. 

You and Irene sit in one of the tables on the elevated level of the restaurant, just a few more feet away from the band, enjoying a space that isn’t so crowded. 

“Seokjin tells me that he took you to meet Johnny Suh at his photography exhibition in Bordeaux,” she mentions to you after the waitress had left with your orders. “Tell me, how did it feel meeting your hero?”

“It was amazing,” you giggled, recalling the feeling of meeting someone you had looked up to that happened just a mere few weeks ago. “We actually became good friends - we have our own group chat and everything. Tell Seokjin I said thank you, he’s such a kind man.”

Irene laughs, waving you off. “Anything else interesting that happened on that trip?” she asks. “Hooked up with any French boys? I heard that the hotel you stayed in proves to be a beautiful place to have sex.”

You roll your eyes at her as you take a sip of your water. “No, Irene, I did not bone anyone,” you tell her as she snickers. You suddenly recollect memories of meeting Jaehyun’s eyes; the mere thought sends jolts to run through your nerves. “However, Jaehyun was there.”

“Really?” Irene asks, wonder on her face, before she let out a gasp, bringing her hands to her cheeks as she grimaces. “Goodness, my apologies, I forgot to mention that Johnny and Jaehyun are half-brothers, how could I forget!” she seems to beat herself up momentarily but then calms. “Did anything happen with him?”

You gulp down the urge to tell her about his intense staring. “Not anything special,” you lie. “He and Johnny got into a heated discussion about going back to Seoul, something about their father needing them back at that very moment. However, Jaehyun left before it could get worse.“ Irene seems to relax in her seat as you play with one of the dining utensils placed in front of you. After a few moments of silence, you open your mouth. “Irene, tell me about the Jung family. I’m curious.”

Irene seems to be taken aback from your question but hums, recalling some facts that she may know of. “From what I know, Johnny is the child of Mr. Jung’s first wife, who had left him for one of their butlers. Jaehyun, and their youngest, Jaemin, are the sons of his second, and current, wife,” she pauses. “Apparently, Mr. Jung is still furious about his first wife leaving him, which is why he promised Jaehyun, his second son, the company, instead of Johnny.”

“Oh.” you whisper, heartstrings tugging at the sad story - spite causes people to make the most hurtful actions.

“Seokjin met Johnny in university, they’re very, very good friends,” Irene continues. “From what he’s told me, Johnny and Jaehyun have always had a strained relationship - he’s unsure why, really. I guess you can tell from the way Johnny still continues to bear his mother’s last name. Anyways, Seokjin told me that it was never Johnny’s dream to run a law firm, and when Mr. Jung appointed Jaehyun as the next chief executive officer, the hateful tension between them raised a little bit more.”

“Why?” you find yourself engrossed in the story, waiting for her to tell you more about the Jung family, but she shakes her head. 

Irene sighs. “I’m afraid this is where my knowledge reaches its end,” she says, and you will yourself not to pout, relishing in the newfound information. “Why do you want to know about the Jung family so much, though? Don’t tell me you’ve taken an interest in Jaehyun, (Y/N); he’s devious, please remember that.”

You shake your head fervently, heat rising up your neck. “No! No, of course not,” you tell her, waving your arms in front of your face. “I was just curious as to why he was so snippy. It was quite rude, really, to see him talking down on his brother like that at his own exhibition.”

She hums in response, not quite believing your tale, but your orders arrive before she could say anything else. The two of you enjoy your meal and converse, talking up a storm like the two of you usually do whenever together. When you are halfway into your meal, the calamares fritos proving heavenly to your stomach, Irene stands from her chair with her purse, excusing herself to the bathroom. You nod, letting her go as you continue to eat your meal alone, instead, facing the screen of your phone. Woefully finishing your meal before Irene can return, you take this time to relish in the atmosphere. The music, now traded for a softer sound with velvety guitars and smooth bass, calms the environment, people around you had went from a jovial bellowing to conversing calmly in their circle groups. To your right is a panoramic window that is painted over with watercolour. You study each stroke as you rest your chin on top of your hand. 

“Excuse me, miss,” the waitress’ hushed voice catches your attention, and you turn towards her. “Domaine de la romanée-conti, from the gentleman at the bar.”

You nod your head at her in thanks, curiously accepting the glass of wine. She sets it down on the table in front of you, and you are stumped. Domaine de la romanée-conti is your favourite, and although it was commonplace in many wine enthusiasts’ palates and collections, it was very expensive to purchase. You look around the restaurant, hoping to catch sight of whomever had, not only splurged their money on you, but had correctly guessed your favoured vin dus pays, eyes dashing around each individual until you land on a gaze that causes your breath to hitch.

His smirk is more distinctive now, even under the dim lights of the restaurant. His ash blond hair was not slicked back this time, instead swept aside on his forehead in messy layers. He is dashing even in casual attire, Commes des Garçons fit on his upper body, short sleeves revealing the veins that run through his muscular arms and tight black jeans that capture every curve of his thighs. The look was appalling to you, having grown used to seeing him clad in nothing but expensive suits - but even when you bite back the gasp from seeing him in the area, your eyes are still locked on his. 

He grabs the glass that he had situated in front of him, filled with veuve clicquot, before standing up from his chair and approaching you. Your eyes never leave his; you still cannot pinpoint the emotions stirring inside them, even when he takes his seat in front of you. 

“It’s funny that we see each other so often, but we still have yet to introduce ourselves to each other,” he starts, the voice you had heard almost booming at Johnny’s exhibition a few weeks ago is at a much gentler tone now. He reaches his hand over the table, expecting you to grab it. “My name is Jung Jaehyun, of Jung & Associates.”

You stare at his hand for a few seconds, not knowing whether you should accept it or not. You interrogate yourself in your thoughts, recalling Irene several warnings; but his gaze is far too intense for you to reject it - and even then, you do not wish for sour feelings between the both of you; even if Jaehyun’s moral compass was wrong, you know Decoré would be ruined the day you decide to act antagonistic towards him. You reach your hand over the table as well, taking his and shaking it lightly, memorizing the smoothness of his hands.

“I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N) of Decoré,” your voice is kind, sending him a smile. You remember the time you had given Wong Lucas the same tone and face when he thought he could have a chance with you; it’s almost deja vu when you send it towards Jaehyun - almost. “It’s very nice to meet you, Jaehyun.”

“Same to you,” he begins, a charming smile on his face. He has dimples, and you gulp as your breathing begins to falter. “I know that we met at my older brother, Johnny’s, exhibition, and I just wanted to clear up any misunderstandings you might have from my character that night. I’m sure we can try again, right? A friend of Johnny’s is a friend of mines.”

You press your lips into a thin line; when he’s dressed in casual attire, he takes the appearance of a casual, everyday boy, someone you might have met in college, someone in a different social class - someone authentic and normal, yet he still has the same intensity that he holds in suits worth millions by Hemsworth, even in comfortable clothing. “Of course we can,” you tell him, to which he relaxes, a wider grin displaying on his face and urging the dimple on his cheeks to form deeper. “Thank you for the domaine de la romanée-cont, by the way, it’s my favourite.”

“Just a lucky guess,” Jaehyun smiles at you. “I remember that was the drink you held both times we came across each other.” 

You ignore the feeling of your heart slightly skipping a beat, gulping down a sip of the wine down your throat; Irene’s voice is booming within your head now. “You have a very good memory, Jaehyun.” you say, taking a sip of the sauvignon, the familiar taste flooding your tastebuds. 

“Just the important things,” he says, chuckling to himself as he takes a sip of his champagne. “So, what brings you to the island of Cebu?”

He talks to you so casually, but his eyes drip with intention, staring into your own eyes and unending; it was as if he was mocking you - mocking the lack of power you had compared to him. “My friend, Irene, and I volunteered at an orphanage in Cebu City,” you tell him, setting the glass of wine down in front of you. “What about you, Jaehyun? Are you following me?”

Your eyes widen when you hear the words fall past your own lips, bringing a hand to your mouth in shock as you yell blasphemous words inside your head. You watch his face, waiting for his reaction to your rudeness, but he just lets out a lighthearted laugh, eyes forming into crescents as he bellows out whimsical notes. “I’m actually here for a business venture,” he tells you after his laughter calms down. “But perhaps I should be the one asking that question, hm, (Y/N)?” 

His voice is teasing, a smirk playing on his lips; you swallow your words instead trading them for nervous giggles. “Maybe we just have the same mind, and similar thoughts.” you tell him, adding a small smile at the end of your sentence, looking directly into his eyes. He raises his eyebrows for a nanosecond, as if an expression of surprise took over his face, before he lets out a deep chuckle.

“I hope so,” he says with a simper, voice slightly deafened from the sounds of guitars and basses reverberating off the walls of Palermo. Just as you open your mouth reply, his phone emits a loud ringtone from his pocket, causing him to tear his eyes off of you. He digs for his phone from his jeans pocket, glancing at his screen and seeing his face fall for a split second before he stands up. “I’m afraid our conversation might have to end early. It was nice seeing you here, (Y/N). I hope we can meet again soon.”

You ignore the slight disappointment emerging from the bottom of your throat, taking in a deep breath. “The same to you, Jung Jaehyun,” your voice is hushed. He nods once, smile bright but brown eyes concentrated, a juxtapositioned expression. His action is delayed, eyes lingering on your for one more second, before he pivots on his heel and marches towards the doors of the restaurant. After watching his retreating figure through the glass doors walk around the corner, you let out a sigh of relief, looking down at the glass of wine he had purchased for you, the liquid now sitting near the bottom. You question yourself on the emotions you felt while conversing with him, chalking it up as a side-effect of constant travelling and having no sleep. 

“Hey, sorry, I’m back, Seokjin called,” your best friend finally reappears, taking her seat in the seats Jaehyun had been in just a few mere seconds ago. Before she turns to hang the sling of her purse on the backrest of the chair, she notices your half-drunk wine glass and eyes you with sharpened eyes. “Started drinking without me, hm?” she quips.

You simply just let out a laugh, fingers twirling the stem of the wine glass as you avoid Irene’s gaze, terrified of her knowing, because you cannot form words. Not when the only image that lingers in your mind is the enigma of Jung Jaehyun’s breathtaking, umber eyes burning into yours.

-----

If you had to pinpoint out the few days you dreadfully loath in a year, you would pick the days Fashion Week is active. 

It is not that you dislike Milan; it is an alluring, beautiful, celebrated city, with copious choices of museums such as the Sforzesco Castle, architecture and cobblestone roads rather gothic yet stunningly vibrant and electrifying, and how could you possibly forget the beautiful view of the Navigli and Darsena districts when the lanterns are lit the moment the stars come out, the sight alone bringing back memories of European romance movies and dialogue to begin playing in your mind. It is a beautiful, wonderful city - but just the name being simply uttered, along with New York, Paris, and London, brings flashbacks that you would rather avert.

The warmth of the sunlight spilling through the crème curtains would usually leave you energized and ready for the oncoming day, yet, somehow, it only puts a kink in your attitude as you groan dismally, longing for just a few more hours of sleep. Perhaps it was your alarm tone whose snooze button you kept missing everytime you would reach for the device, the obnoxious tone emitting constantly, or perhaps it was the horde of screaming stylists and the feeling of your manager pulling your legs out of bed, but you couldn’t bare to close your eyes again and instead of the smile you often wear on your risen face, a slight scowl plays on your lips. Sitting up on your plush mattress with knotted muscles, your stylists have already begun to pull you out of bed, along with your cries of lament. You had barely even rubbed your eyes to rid of the rheum that lined your eyelashes from your few hours of sleep before they had forced you down in a makeup chair, pressuring you to look at yourself in a circular mirror lined with LED lights.

Oh, how horrid, you thought. 

This years theme was Bridal, much to your mother’s dismay - she had believed in an old superstition that wearing a wedding dress before you even have the chance to get married only brings bad luck in your love life; but after she had seen the paycheck that would be wired into her account after you walk down the runway, her mind seemed to forget about the superstition altogether. You eyed the several pimples that had found their way onto your forehead in scrutiny, knowing that the makeup artist will most likely opt for a lighter look to fit the theme. 

“Don’t worry, the pieces you will be wearing will take the attention away from your newfound friends.” a teasing, familiar voice makes their way into your ears as you feel two hands resting on your shoulders. You perk up at the voice and look past your reflection to see Johnny’s friendly face, grinning ear to ear as he laughs at his own joke. Rolling your eyes, you lightly slap his hand on your right shoulder, cracking your first smile of the day. 

“I didn’t know you were coming, Johnny!” you exclaimed, turning around to face him. He was clad in a Raf Simmons cropped sweater with black trousers by Helmut Lang, the sense of casual attire yet the prices of the simple looking fabrics were more than ostentatious. He ruffles your unstyled hair with a mischievous grin. You and Johnny have grown closer in the months since the two of you met, constantly texting each other back and forth; it has gotten to the point where you consider him a best friend, right beside Irene. “You should have texted me!”

“That would have ruined the surprise!” Johnny laughs, walking towards the table in front of you and leaning against a spot where makeup wasn’t littered everywhere. As the makeup artist begins their work on your face, laying and spreading out tones of beige and browns and the slightest hints of pink, you and Johnny converse naturally. 

“So are you the only one that came?” you ask as you watch the makeup artist brush the slightest of coral toned blush onto the apples of your cheek; you’re unsure if it is Johnny’s presence that helped you become fully awake or if it’s due to the work of the artist, but you are positively impressed with how you look so far. 

“No,” Johnny pauses while he digs through one of the bags of makeup opened on the desk. You had solicited constantly to meet Johnny’s husband, Ten, only ever hearing about him through Johnny’s own words and stories - you wanted to meet him, especially since you had heard he was a big fan of yours. You gasp in surprise at his answer, joy setting down on your shoulders when you realize you might be finally meeting your friend’s lover, but it is swept from underneath you in just milliseconds. “I brought Jaehyun with me.” 

“Jaehyun?” you repeat after a few beats, to which he nods. 

“Yep, you know, my brother,” Johnny says, an unknowing smile gracing his features when he glances at you. “He had actually told me that the two of you bumped into each other in the Philippines; he wanted to come to fashion week to support you.”

“Oh…” you respond, trailing off. “Well, that’s very nice of him.” 

“It is,” Johnny confirms, returning the nude lipstick by MAC back into the unzipped bag before digging around again. “It’s quite peculiar, really. Ever since father appointed the chair to Jaehyun, he’s been… quite antagonistic towards me, but ever since his trip to the Philippines, he’s been… alright. Perhaps the merger with PunoLaw went splendidly.” 

You ignore the flip that your heart makes in your chest while the makeup artist sweeps streaks of highlight upon your cheekbones; there could be a number of reasons why Jaehyun’s temperament had gotten better - a simple exchange of greeting and a purchased drink of wine means nothing in a business trip to a foreign country. 

“Johnny,” you starts off, and he hums in response. “You don’t have to answer, but… have the both of you always had bad blood?” 

“I’m sure as someone next in line for the CEO of a company, you have obligations, right?” Johnny lets out a soft sigh, his top teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he patently probes his mind for the correct words. He sets down the lipstick tube that he had been toying with and looks straight at you, a serious expression on his face. “Well… Jaehyun deals with these… obligations... differently. He’s always been a rambunctious man. He grew up thinking that the company would be passed down to me, so he didn’t care much for his own image - so when the news came out that he would be leading Jung & Associates in the future, he just… lashed out, he became slightly more antagonistic to everyone around him. He was never trained for that position, and he still doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Johnny pauses. “He’s just afraid.”

“Ah…” you hum after a short pause, your voice hanging in the air. As next in line for the executive position for Decoré, you are responsible in retaining your clean reputation; you were to be immaculate with your choices, you were expected to stay absolute and virtuous, they wished for you to hold a record that is the epitome of every parent’s wet dream. The constant demanding of these obligations, as well as the constant invariable conversations of marriage and children from your mother, takes a toll on your own wellness daily; you can never say what you truly want to say, you can never do what you truly want to do. You can never underestimate the press when they hone into your every action, words, glances and body language forged into the world with printed ink and a mass of pixels. One slip of character, and it could mean the end of the empire that your great-great grandmother had established. As you stare into the mirror, hairstylist taking over as they brush your hair with a flat comb, you think to yourself; perhaps Jung Jaehyun is just misjudged, perhaps his true reasons for his actions may not be what the media observes. Irene was not the sole heiress to her family’s fashion institute, so she does not know of the demanding expectations that comes forth with preparing for an established company to be in your hands; perhaps she heard of idle conversations of those envious and took their words of spite as gospel.

As time passes, you quickly come to when find yourself lined up backstage along with other models walking the catwalk. The show had just started, the piercing sound of classical piano music blaring through the speakers deafening to your ears as stylists make last minute touch ups on your makeup and dress. You are adorned in a beautiful metallic white dress by Valentino; the top made entirely of chiffon, with a low cut neckline, diamonds formed to cover your chest area. The skirt, made of tulle fabric, is decorated with strewn diamonds, every move you make sending each jewel to swing, making it look as if you had just bathed in a pool of gems. The billowy sleeves are also strewn with diamonds, you can already see the brilliant reflections of light against the harsh LED bulbs above. 

Your hair is pulled back into a braided low bun, your veil, attached to the bottom of your bun, trails behind you for meters, acting like a cape.; you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you draw closer towards the front of the line. You suck in a deep breath; you’ve walked countless runways in the past, it’s like a fluent language to you - straight back, intense eyes, just an inkling of attitude - yet, your mind seems to be in a haze, and you can comprehend exactly why. As the last model before you makes her way back behind the stage, you close your eyes momentarily, letting out a puff of hair, before setting off through the doors. 

Your fists relax, hands swaying by your side as the bright lights pointed towards the catwalk causes your dress to glimmer in ways you would only predict ever seeing in fantasy movies. You keep your face monotonous, taking in the audience’s gasps of delight and pleasure at the sight of your dress, the familiar sounds of cameras clicking over and over again proving louder than the booming violins blaring through the speakers. Your lips are flat, and expression featureless as you make your way to the very front of the catwalk - this is the dress’s show, and not yours. You see Johnny in the audience, camera in hand as he takes a few shots of your walk, but it is the man beside him that causes your eyes to slightly widen.

He looks far too beautiful, as if he should be the one walking the runway. His ash blonde hair is slicked back but in the way as if he had forked his dry fingers through his locks rather than wet with gel. He is dressed in a suit made of crushed velvet, also by Valentino, trousers highlighting the curves of his thighs, a pure black button up shirt underneath his velvet blazer. The people seated around him were focused on observing him and attempting to catch his attention rather than to give their attention to the piece that you displayed for them; but he - not paying one glance to your gown, not one glimpse to the veil that flowed behind you, not even regarding the rude chatter emitting around him sparked by his presence - keeps his eyes gazing into yours.

The feeling alone is enough to make you lose your breath, the sight of his deep, teasing eyes causing you to open your mouth slightly, urging you losing track of where you were supposed to be. But just as your lips lightly part, you force them closed in panic of feeling your muscles twitch at the movement; you watch as an amused smile plays his lips, before he crosses his arms over his chest. You tear your eyes away from his, pivoting on your heel as you make your way to the back behind the stage - but even through the chiffon fabric of your veil, you can feel the all-too familiar feeling of Jung Jaehyun’s eyes lingering on your form.

The after party is far too congested to your liking, and even though the air was rich with air conditioning, your skin feels moist to the touch after having to weave your way through hordes of people dancing and chatting with each other. You had traded in the wedding dress that you wore for a shorter light pink chiffon dress by Valentino that ended right before your knees, your feet are already sore from the heels that you’ve been wearing the entire day. You wonder if Johnny might be present at this party too, but you aren’t sure if you’re willing to weave deeper into the venue through more crowds nor are you sure if your feet have enough vitality for a couple more steps. 

“Leaving early?” a distinctive voice causes you to halt before you can walk through the exit. You turn your head, ready to face impact before facing Jaehyun. He has a small smile on his face, cradling a coca-cola can in his hand. “If so, can I leave with? I lost Johnny in the crowd.”

A smile appears on your lips. “Johnny is over six feet tall, I find it hard to believe that you lost him, Jung Jaehyun,” you tell him, quirking your eyebrow, to which he lets out a chuckle, glancing down at his coca-cola. “But yes, you may join.”

The next few minutes are a flurry of exchanges with the guards at the door and retrieving your coats from the lobby. As you walk through the exit doorways, you can only sigh in content when the cool, December breeze kisses the clammy skin of your neck, sweat accumulated from the overcrowded afterparty. It is twelve at midnight, and the streets house only a few people walking up and down the cobblestone roads. You’re glad that your manager had packed a pair of Tory Burch flats for you in your purse, your heels finally getting the rest they need as you turn towards the direction of your hotel, but the reminder in the form of a person speaks before you could hobble off.

“How long will you be staying in Milan?” Jaehyun finds a pace in walking beside you, hands shoved into the deep pockets of his black Burberry trench coat. You take your arms and pull the front lapels of your tweed coat by Gucci. 

“I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning,” you tell him, looking at the streets in front of you. The stars were on display in the night sky, and lamps have lit up, dimly illuminating the roads. You can feel the heat radiating off of Jaehyun as he listens intently to you; your stomach flips with an emotion that you cannot decipher. “Mother wants me back in Seoul before she begins clearing the pieces for her collection releases by Spring. And you?” 

“I’ll be here until Tuesday,” he says, in a tone of dread, the both of you slowing down your walking pace. “Jung & Associates are establishing a branch here, I’ll just be doing the finalizations - then I’ll be back in Seoul.” 

You look at him in surprise. “Really?” you question. “How interesting.”

“Perhaps we’ll bump into each other again on the streets of Myeong-dong.” he grins, kilowatt smile spreading across his face causing his dimples to form on his cheeks. You eye them before looking away, feeling your cheeks begin to heat up - you still had to be careful around him, you are unsure as to what his true character is really like. 

You let out a hum. “You know what, Jung Jaehyun?” you start off in a hesitant teasing tone, unsure of how to interact with him; you didn’t want to accidentally set him off, in case Irene was actually correct with her hypothesis, however, you weren’t sure if Johnny was telling the truth either, details far too vague for your liking. “I’m starting to think you’re actually following me.” 

He lets out an amused puff of air as the two of you round a corner, the Navigli canal coming into view, lit up by the streetlamps that litter beside it; it was breathtaking scenery, it never fails to cause your heartbeat to quicken whenever you catch sight of it - everything about the view is romantic. He walks towards the body of water, strolling to the concrete railing. He halts, growing silent, eyes fixated on the number of stars illuminating the night sky. Even through all the dim light posts, you are still able to see the glimmering spots shining outside of the Earth’s atmosphere. You watch the back of Jaehyun’s head as he shoves his hands inside the pockets of his coat. Hesitantly, you approach him, coming to a pause beside him just as you see the profile of his face; his eyes are trained solely on the stars, the ghost of a smile teasing his lips. Turning your head to look at the stars with him, the both of you stay in a comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“Sometimes,” you’re the first to break the silence, eyes still training on the stars. “Whenever I stroll past this canal, I envision those classic movies filmed in Europe; a confession of love near the body of water, a kiss in the rain surrounded by romantic architecture.” 

You are unsure as to why those are the first words that fall past your lips, but you let out a dreamy sigh, scenes of Audrey Hepburn to Marilyn Monroe, recollecting portrayals of old-school love play in your mind. Jaehyun looks away from the sky, switching his gaze towards you, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“You yearn for love?” he questions you, and you giggle softly, crossing your arms over your chest as a chilling breeze kisses your neck. 

“Doesn’t everyone?” you question him, eyes trailing along the gothic architecture of the streets of Milan. “I’ve dreamt of it since I was a little girl, but everyday, it seems as if my chance at finding it grows more impossible.” 

Jaehyun is silent for a few seconds, you can still feel his eyes lingering on your face. “And what if you’ve already found your love?”

You gulp, biting down on your bottom lip. Your eyes cast downwards towards the body of water before you open your mouth. You aren’t sure why, but your heartbeat bangs against your chest painfully, and your ears are heating up despite the fact that the air is chilly. You let out a sigh, fog of condensation escaping your lips. “I mustn’t.”

“Why not?” 

“Because my mother will defy the man I choose,” you pause, a pitiful smile finding its way onto your face. “I know that I will be forced to marry someone from her inner circle to ensure Decoré’s future. I don’t have a choice in this matter anyway,” you let out a chuckle before turning to him, his eyes training on yours. “The position comes with disadvantages, and it makes me rethink my options even though I’ve ached to lead Decoré all my life.”

“But that does not mean you shouldn’t live,” he trails off. “Just because your life is led by responsibility… doesn’t mean you should avoid love.” 

“There’s no other way, Jaehyun,” you tell him. You extract your hands from deep within the pockets of your tweed coat and press your palms again the concrete railing before you form them into fists. “I’m sure that you understand as well, your company is being handed down to you - you have an image to uphold, right?”

He grows silent. “Yes, I do.” 

“Love is a risk that I’d rather not make.” you say. You have dated in the past, once in middle school, with a boy named Jeon Jungkook, a short relationship that lasted for only three days, and your first year in college, with a boy named Kim Mingyu, which lasted deftly for eight months - both relationships, of which, weren’t serious at all. Kim Mingyu was your first kiss, and first time; you remember the crushing disappointment at the lack of sparks that flew between the both of you each time your bodies were pressed against each other. Additionally, your name has been caught in multiple articles since the beginning of forging your model career that articulated dating rumours with you and innumerable celebrities and other of the elite class, all of which had been false. The feedback that you received during those times were immensely painful for you, and you worked hard to keep your reputation clear since then.

“But life, itself, is a risk. Is it not?” Jaehyun’s voice is hushed, but his eyes are not directed towards you, instead training on the Gothic buildings situated opposite from where you are standing, on the other side of the canal. You press your lips into a straight line, furrowing your eyebrows together as you think of his sentence, not knowing how to reply.

As you open your mouth to finally answer, a familiar tone emits through the air. He reaches into the pocket of his coat and grabs his vibrating phone, letting out a sigh when his eyes land on the screen of his phone. Turning to you, he outstretches a hand towards you for you to shake, a gracious smile on his face, dimples in full view, but his eyes are still dull. You take your hand and enclose your fingers around his, deja-vu as you memorize the warmth of his skin around your cold hands, before weakly shaking his fist.

“I have to go,” Jaehyun says, putting his phone back into his pocket, not accepting the call. You find that peculiar, but it is not your business, so you do not press. “I’ll see you when I get back to Seoul?” 

You smile at him, nodding your head. “Yes,” you tell him. “I’ll see you then.”

And as you turn to part ways, he lingers his gaze on you only for a second more, before pivoting on his heel. Just outside the doors of your hotel that you stayed in while in Milan, the only image that clouds your mind is of the last gaze that he had given you, almost certain that he held longing in his pupils, and as you think of the lasting image that haunts your brain, you are reminded of your heart beating wildly against your ribcage, this time, accompanied with the slight excitement that rises in the pit of your stomach.

-----

The cool, frigid, January air laces into the studio, entirely made of hard concrete, excluding the various set pieces spread around the area. You lay on top of a long, woven seat, bare legs, hair standing up in defense of the chilly breeze, hanging off the side of the arm rest. You are draped in only an oversized, pure-white shirt, the fabric blanketing your sighs and sleeves barely able to hang onto your shoulder; clickings of camera ensue, underneath the humming bass of the Frank Ocean song blaring through the speakers. Today was the day you had finally scheduled your photoshoot with Johnny, eager for the outcome as you let your head slightly hand from the other side of the woven seat.

“Point your chin just a bit upwards, (Y/N),” Johnny tells you from off the set. Johnny uses a particular method of photography, using natural lighting from outside to create an authentic ambience in his photos - the only window in the studio was a large, panoramic one that had the most beautiful view of the garden. His studio is located on the Jung premises, in its own little estate behind the main house; when you had walked through the main gates you had felt completely intimidated by the domineering aura of the house, much larger than your own - it took up nearly two football fields,  and it was then when you realized how powerful this family really is. “Okay, there, perfect!”

The humming of the bass of songs emitting from Johnny’s playlist as well as the clicks of his film camera are the only sounds that emit between the both of you as you try out different poses, boudoir poses come naturally to you. Johnny had given you one of his own shirts to use as clothing, the oversized fabric hanging off you loosely. A break ensues halfway through the shoot, at five p.m., almost three hours since you had begun posing. The sun has already set an hour ago, winter nights a longer span than winter mornings, and you desperately had the urge to pee, having downed an entire bottle of water before the shoot due to your adrenaline.

“Hey, Johnny?” you ask while he reviews his photos. He looks up towards you in curiosity, letting out a hum of acknowledgement. “Where’s the bathroom?” 

“Oh,” he says, setting his camera down before he begins to use charades as a way to give you the directions. “Down the hall, on the third left, fifth door on the right side. If you want, the lower bathroom is a lot more cleaner.” 

“No, it’s alright,” you let out a laugh, before walking out of the studio. When one would say the Jung Estate was big; it was big. Multiple hallways and multiple doors make up the interior of the estate, and it wasn’t even the main house on the Jung premises - this estate was only slightly smaller in size compared to the large castle-like structure that stood before the front gates. It seemed a little silly to you - who needs this many rooms? You were almost sure that Johnny and Ten, who you finally had the fortunate chance of meeting earlier that afternoon, were the only two who resided in this house - yet it’s so vastly empty, not even one inkling of a server or butler. 

You follow the directions that Johnny had given you just a few minutes ago to no attempt because before you know it, you are lost in a daze of paintings and golden decals. He said third right, right?, you thought to yourself as you look around. You weren’t even sure which direction your had come from, the diminishing sunlight from outside beginning to darken the hallways. You let out a sigh as you take a chance, figuring that if you were wrong anyways, you’d just be greeted to an empty room and you’d have to force your bladder to not erupt for a few more minutes until you’d finally find the bathroom. You push a large, mahogany door open, the creaking reverberating off the marble walls of the hallway, and then you pause.

“Jesus, Johnny, can’t you knock?” his voice seems aggravated while he’s hunched over a desk, face buried into a stack of paper. “I told you, I’m doing paperwork right now. I’m b-” 

His eyes automatically widen when he looks up towards the door, eyes snapping to yours. A plane of glass covers his eyes, entwined with a golden frame as they perch neatly on his nose, ash blonde hair in messy ruffles, obviously having had his fingers run through them numerous times throughout the night. He wears a simple, basic, white button up shirt, with simple black trouser bottoms, the most casual attire you have ever seen him wear; yet, he still looked stunning. However, his eyes are boring right at you, the pen in his hand freezing from writing letters as his pupils begin to slowly move down your body.

“Jaehyun,” you finally let out a breath, stammering as you slowly back away from the doorway. “Sorry, oh my gosh, I’m doing a shoot with Johnny right now and I was trying to find the bathroom… um, I got lost.” 

His jaw visibly clenches and you see his adam’s apple bob against his throat before standing up and lightly swipes his hands on his thighs. “Don’t worry about it, I just got taken aback.” he gulps, as he begins to walk towards you, adjusting the glasses that perch on his nose. “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

Your face immediately flushes, eyes, if not already at their widest, widen even more as you let out a gasp. You have never felt a fabric of clothing cause your stomach to explode in your life, yet, for some reason, that was the only feeling you could muster as you feel the fabric of Jaehyun’s shirt brush against your thighs. “I’m sorry,” you apologize once more, letting out a breathy laugh. “I didn’t know this was your shirt. Johnny said it was his.” 

He lets out an amused puff of air. “The nerve of that man, he still continues to steal my clothing for props,” he shakes his head, tsking. “Here, I can show you where the bathroom is - this house has so many unneeded rooms, it’s silly.” 

You follow him through the corridors; the sun had already set completely, the moon now shining above that casts into the hallways through the lined windows. The sound of Jaehyun’s shoes swiping against the floor and the dull sounds of the pads of your feet hitting the marble flooring is the only noise heard in the air between you both, your face still sprinkled with hues of red from the feeling of the hem of Jaehyun’s shirt brushing past your thighs. He walks you into the other hall across from where you had opened the door to his room, and stops right in front of a door similar to the ones around it. 

“Here you are,” he says, pivoting on his heel and pushing the door to the bathroom open, the door creaks as it slightly cracks ajar. You let out a sigh of relief, grinning at him. “You just turned the wrong way, but fortunately you found me, or else you’d probably still be lost in the hallways.” 

“Thank you, Jaehyun.” you tell him graciously, pulling the front of the shirt you are wearing to make sure that your sleeves don’t slip past your shoulders and show them bare. He gives you a silent nod before he begins to walk back to his study room, but you gasp and grab his hand, slightly pulling him back, to which he freezes, turning towards you. 

“What is it?” he asks you, eyebrows furrowed in concern. You are only thankful that the hallways are dim, you can practically feel the heat of your cheeks radiating off your skin. 

“S-Sorry,” you stammer; you seem to be apologizing to Jaehyun repeatedly that night.“I didn’t mean to touch you - that was really rude of me. It’s just… can you wait? Um, I don’t know how to get back to the studio and it’s… really dark, and the hallways are slightly creepy.” 

His worry sets on his face for only a second longer before his lips form into a small smile, eyes forming into slight crescents as he nods. “Of course,” he says. He rests his back against the wall beside the door to the bathroom. “I’ll be right here.” 

You give him a grateful smile before walking into the doors of the bathroom - you first catch yourself in the mirror, face a deep shade of red as you inwardly cringe at how fast the boy had taken you off guard. Slapping your hands on your cheeks in an attempt to calm your heartbeat panging against your ribcage, you let out a few gasps of air. Washing your hands before opening the door again, you only will yourself to keep your stance calm and cool around Jaehyun, but you know that will all crash to the floor the moment you turn the doorknob.

When you step out, you see that Jaehyun is still waiting beside the door, his back pressed against the wall as his thumbs swipe at the screen of his phone. At the crack of light that emitted from within the bathroom, he finally looks up at you with a smile, turning the screen of his phone off with a click and standing upright. You are unsure of what to say, words seem to be caught stuck in your throat every time you look at him. 

“I can walk you to Johnny’s studio,” he lets out a laugh as he shoves his phone into the pocket of his trousers before he runs his hands through his hair, ash blonde locks falling onto his forehead one by one. “I never thought you’d be the type to be afraid of the dark, (Y/N).”

Again, you are unsure of what to say, only letting a giggle fall past your lips in response. Fortuitously, your stomach seems to be dashing around in circles as you watch his eyes trained on yours, shadows of the corridor darkening the edges of his face and the pale moonlight from outside causing his cheekbones to come out even more angular. His eyes are darker than ever, as he watches you, and even though it is dim, you are almost sure the corner of his lips twitch upright. Your breath hitches in your throat and in blushing panic, and so you twirl around, hoping for him to simply catch on and lead you back towards the studio - but his booming, baritone voice, much like the first time you had heard him speak at Johnny’s exhibition in October, causes your step to falter.

“Are you going to do something with the way you look at me?” 

It’s ironic how the weight of a few words can change the entire dynamic of an established acquaintanceship; merely a pin dropping on the ground and detonating into flames to burn down the walls that had already been put up, built with blocks composed with intimidated hesitance and lethal attraction. The inflection of his voice weaved through the air like a ribbon made of silk before devouring your nerves, sending jolts through your body in ripples, breath becoming hitched in your throat as an all too familiar emotion that you’ve been forcing to push down, that you’ve coaxed yourself into feeling mystified about, begins to rise in the pit of your stomach. His words echo through the long, dark corridors before they come to a halt, silence seducing the air between your bodies, but you stay frozen, and your lips stay unmoving. You hear him step closer, the heel of his shoes slightly clicking against the marble flooring, and it sends waves through your body again.

“(Y/N).” his voice is low, stern, the same voice you had heard the night you had heard him speak at Johnny’s photography exhibition.

Your breath shakes when you finally part your lips. “Yes, Jaehyun?” you stammer. 

“Answer my question.” he whispers. He stands close, you can feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric that drapes your body. The tension that dances between the both of you is thick, emotions of both excitement and yearning burning in your chest. You feel his breath on the back of your neck, and it urges you to squeeze your thighs together to combat the aching need between your legs. 

“I should be the one asking you that, Jung Jaehyun, since you practically fuck me with your eyes every time we meet.” the tone of your voice is surprising to you when it falls past your lips, your hand snapping to your mouth as you widen your eyes - you hear him chuckle lightly behind you just seconds before you feel the pads of his fingers dance on the back of your neck, gently moving your hair onto one shoulder. 

“I didn’t know you were capable of speaking like that,” his voice juxtaposes his actions, laced with intent. He presses his warm hands against the white fabric on your collarbone before he slides it down to bare your shoulder, the cool air of the corridors causing your thin hairs to stand up. “Always so polite and careful, I wanna know what other noises fall past those pretty lips of yours.”

He roughly turns you around, as if a switch were flipped inside him - it’s only now when you have taken in how tall he was, even if he were slightly shorter than Johnny, his physique was large compared to yours, and that excites you. His umber eyes penetrated yours as he takes his glasses off and sets them on the top of his head before he uses his forefinger and thumb to force you to look at him, proud smirk playing on his lips. His domineering attitude, and your want for challenge - they both crash together like fire, flames licking at each other to create even larger chaos. As you gaze into his eyes, breath rattling your ribcage, you are finally able to discern the emotion that swam within his pupils, an emotion that had befuddled you since the first time your eyes landed on his. Desire. 

“You make me go so fucking crazy,” he whispers before his lips dart to your neck, peppering wet kisses along your jawline. You let out a gasp when he nips at the skin of your neck, the ache in your panties growing stronger every time his tongue flicks out to soothe a spot. He cradles your cheek in his hand as your lean your head back to give him more space, yearning for his touch. You feel the warmth of his hand he had used to cradle your cheek cascading down your body roughly, hovering over your breasts as he continues to lap at your neck.  “God, ever since the first time I saw you, the things I’ve been thinking about doing to you - and now here you are standing in one of my shirts, and, fuck.”

You buck your hips, cupping his cheeks as you push him away from your neck to force him to look back into your eyes - his eyes, sharp, cuts into yours, the meager sight causing an aching throb to pulsate through you once more. “Tell me the things you’ve thought about doing to me,” you whisper, tracing your thumb over the plumpness of his bottom lip, you bring him closer to your face - you feel his hot breath on your lips. “Tell me, and then do them to me.”

A sigh escaped his lips before they finally come to meet yours, enveloping yours against his own in a flurry of desperation - you hadn’t realized how much you hungered for this moment until the feeling of felicity settled within you, your longing moan dancing into his mouth. Perhaps it was his own desperation too that had been building up for months leading up to this moment, perhaps it was the sound that escaped from deep within your lungs that excited him, but his hands rush to cup your sopping panties causes a gasp to escape from your mouth. “I’ve imagined you like this,” his voice is a whisper when you pull away at the sensation of his fingers pressing against your clothed pussy. “Whimpering for me, begging for me, trying to keep yourself quiet.”

Short gasps escape from you as he continues to work against the thin fabric, adding more and more pressure as he moves his hands in circular motions. “J-Jaehyun,” you moan, trying your best to keep yourself quiet. You don’t want your whimpers to travel down the hallway and possibly lace into Johnny’s ears - the act would be mortifying to you. “What if Johnny sees us?”

“I don’t give a damn,” he grunts, hand roughly toying with your clothed clit. Your hips buck against his hand, and if it weren’t for how needy you felt, letting this man have his way with you, you’d be ashamed at how wet you’ve already become, soaking through your panties. Slowly, he moves them to the side before he glides a finger along your bare entrance; sensitive already, you shudder. “Fuck, look at you, so fucking wet and ready. You want me that bad, (Y/N)?” 

You sink your lips into your bottom lip, looking into his eyes through your eyelashes. Your face is hot, blushing as his tongue flicks out from between his lips to lick them. He continues to glide his long finger against you, eyes boring into yours as he does, watching as every expression of eagerness flashes across your features. His forefinger mockingly dips into your entrance for a fleeting moment, the sensation of him inside you one second and gone the next causing you to mewl out in frustration. He lets out a dark chuckle as you furrow your eyebrows, willing yourself to keep it together.

“I asked you a question, darling.” he mumbled darkly, dipping the tip of his forefinger inside of your sopping heat once again. “Answer my question and you’ll get your prize.”

“Yes, Jaehyun,” you bite back your moan when he dips his finger inside you again, taunting you. Your breathing becomes heavy with every dip he makes, aching for him to do something about the need inside of you, bucking your hips against his hand, soaked with your juices. “I want you so bad, I want you so fucking bad. Please, Jaehyun, fuck, please.” 

He lets out a dark chuckle beside your ear before he plunges the fullness of his forefinger inside of you, a gasp escaping you at the sudden entrance. He pumps the single finger in and out of you with ease, spreading your legs wider with his knee; he has large hands with long, slender fingers, the sensation of just one doesn’t meet your fancy, but it’s enough to relieve the itch that had begun to build inside of you. “Fuck!” 

“So fucking tight,” he grunts, watching your face contort into pleasured expressions, condescending smirk turning into an enchanted one, lips parting and eyebrows turning upward. He adds his middle finger, spreading your pussy wider as he begins to pick up the pace of his thrusting, arm flexing as the moonlight hits the veins that decorate along his forearms. “Shit, (Y/N), has your tight cunt been fucked before?” 

All you could muster out was a whine as he continued to fuck his fingers into you, your mind nothing but a fog of haze while he reaches deeper and deeper into your core, as if he were planning to leave his mark inside of you. You had been fucked before, by your last boyfriend, Mingyu, but not like this - never like this. Foreplay was never on his mind, giving you pleasure was something he had never thought of doing; you barely even remember a time he had given you a leg-shaking orgasm, which, if Jaehyun continued to reach inside of you like that, you’re sure you’ll have your first one by tonight. “So fucking tight, all for me, isn’t that right, darling?”

“Fuck, Jaehyun!” your voice is thin, still attempting to keep yourself hush, not wanting the immoral act to be known to your friend just a few doors down the hall, still waiting on your return from your break - but you’re almost sure that the lewd, wet noises of his palm slapping against your wet cunt that echoes against the pillars and golden framed paintings that line the corridors may prove your wish hopeless. Jaehyun’s fingers brush against the spot that causes your legs to shake, and with a knowing glint in his umber eyes, he continues to brush against it. “Jaehyun, shit, right there, fuck! Fuck, yeah, just like that!”

He heeds to your words, the tips of his fingers grazing against your g-spot repeatedly, and you feel yourself unravelling. It takes all for you to not let your eyes roll to the back of your head, screwing your eyes shut as you focus on his fingers stretching your walls out in a steady, rough motion; walls beginning to clench around him, you feel your desired orgasm coming. “You’re gonna cum, (Y/N)?” he questions you as your walls quiver around his digits. “You’re gonna cum just from the use of my fingers alone? Dirty girl, tell me who owns this cunt.” 

A hot sigh leaves your lips, barely focusing on his voice due to the yearning of your release. Whining, you open your eyes again to look into his, begging with your pupils to get him to continue, but his face is monotonous. “J-Jaehyun,” your voice is weak. “I’m gonna cum.” 

“Answer my fucking question, (Y/N), or else I won’t let you cum at all,” his tone is dark, which gives you all the more to whine as he picks up the pace of his fingers, sinful noises filling your ears. The act alone causes the knot in the pit of your stomach to unravel just a little more, and Jaehyun leans down to bite the skin of the crook of your neck. “Fucking tell me who owns this dirty little cunt, (Y/N).”

“You do,” you whimper, voice juddering with every thrust his fingers make. “You do, it’s yours, it’s all fucking yours! P-Please!” 

“It’s all mine?” he taunts you, he’s panting now as well, digits flashing in and out of you at a speed you weren’t even aware that a human can make. “What is? What’s all mine?”

“Fuck, Jaehyun!” you whine in aggravation. The aching need to orgasm causes the strain you’ve put on your words to escape, voice loud against the marble walls. “It’s yours! This cunt is all yours! It’s fucking yours! It’s yours to fuck and, and, it’s yours t-to… fuck! I’m coming!” 

It hits you in waves, the feeling of pleasure enveloping your body as you feel your pussy pulsate against his hand. You crane your neck back as he continues to lap at your neck, leaving memoirs of his presence in the form of soft-red markings across your skin. As the orgasm leaves your body, you are left with quivering legs, barely mustering the energy to hold yourself against the marble walls, much to the man’s amusement. It’s obvious what the two of you had done; his hand glistens with your juices against the light of the moon that travels through the planes of glass across the hall; the fabric of the shirt that he had adorned was wrinkled from your pulling and clenching of fists; your lips, that had been painted a deep shade of red prior, were now a lighter red, and Jaehyun seemed to have the same shade on, and the lingering fluid that escaped from your cunt during your orgasm lines across your inner thighs. 

As you come down from your orgasm, his lips find their way to pressing against yours once more, gentle in touch this time. Your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him close, closer than you had ever thought of him being. You feel pricklings traveling through your nerves as his tongue enters your mouth, and you find yourself yearning for more just before he pulls away, panting heavily. As he parts his lips to speak, you hear footsteps walking down the hall, and you gasp, pushing him off of you and adjusting your attire and hair, letting the hem of Jaehyun’s shirt fall past your thighs to cover the residue of what had just happened. Jaehyun watches you with an amused smile on his face, wiping his hands on the back of his trousers and grabbing the glasses that stayed atop his head and perching them back on his nose again, carelessly brushing his pure-white sleeve against his lips that causes the dark lipstick that you had stained his face with to rub off. 

“(Y/N)!” you hear Johnny’s familiar voice call just before he comes around the corner, the flashlight of his phone dashing around the corridor. He turns to the corridor you and Jaehyun both stood in, jumping in shock for only a second - possibly thinking he had come across ghosts - before visibly relaxing and walking towards you in his confident gait, his phone still flashing in the darkness. You squint, terrified that he might be able to deduce what happened between the both of you with the torchlight. “God! You were gone for so long! I heard yelling! What happened?” 

“She got lost trying to find the bathroom, and I scared her.” Jaehyun lies with ease, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. You eyed him for a few seconds, gaze lingering his body - he seemed so casual, as if what had just happened sprung only in your mind, but you are still able to detect a trace of your MAC lipstick on the side of his lips and the messy waves of his hair that your hands were entangled in. Yet, you were still appalled at how easy the lies fell past his lips. “She started yelling at me, it was really funny.” 

“Jaehyun, you bastard,” Johnny sighs, sending him a sharp eye before turning around and patting your hair down. For a second, he squints towards your lip, and you fear that he found the first clue of what the two of you had been doing, but he seems to ignore it, eyes flashing back up to yours. “If you want me to beat my brother’s head in with my camera, I’ll be happy to do it.”

You open your mouth to answer but Jaehyun’s voice interrupts you. “Hey, if it weren’t for me, she would still be lost in your stupid winding corridors,” he gruffs, crossing his arms over his chest; the action highlights the muscles underneath the thin fabric of his shirt but you will yourself to look away. “She’ll just have to owe me. Isn’t that right, (Y/N)?” 

His voice has a hint of amusement in it, tone lighthearted as he sends you a smile with crescent-shaped eyes, and your heart jumps in not lust, but with something else you have yet to figure out - but you’re aware of the hidden connotations of his sentence, the feeling that Jaehyun had reached into your core slightly coming back at the thoughts that race around your mind of images of him. You only nod, throat going dry, before smiling simply.

“Yes, Jaehyun,” you heed his words, and for a fleeting second, an amused smile on his face shone with a lordly flame. “I owe you.”

-----

The night that you laid in bed trying to daze into slumber after your first encounter with Jung Jaehyun proved a sleepless one, one that kept you rolling over and over again in your plush bed, constantly flipping your pillows and kicking your duvet out of sheer frustration. The memories of Jaehyun’s sinful words and breathy grunts, recalling his fingers flashing in and out of you, brought back the itch inside of you like no other; you only fell asleep after finding solace in your own fingers, and even they couldn’t cause you to reach the heights Jaehyun had shown you.

You do not tell Irene; you couldn’t tell Irene, and you shouldn’t tell Irene, because you are certain that she will blow a gasket the moment the man in question’s name leaves your lips because you did not listen to her. You have never lied to your best friend before, nor have you ever kept a secret from her - but it is for the best for the situation. Besides, you and Jaehyun were only using each other for each other’s body, to let desires that shouldn’t be exhibited in public out - at least, that���s what you believed, and your best friend doesn’t have to know that. Yet, each time she walks to your side with an indication of concern in her brow, you find it hard to keep your secrets locked within your lips.

“Is everything alright, (Y/N)?” asks Irene, her voice muffled underneath the soft chatter of a high-end lounge she had invited you to. You stare down into the liquid of your tonic water, choosing something non-alcoholic in order to keep your honesty and deceit under control. “You’ve been really quiet lately. Is there something troubling you?”

“No worries, Irene,” you muster a small smile, genuine enough to see her body relax as you swish your water in your glass. It’s grating to know how effortless it was for you to lie to her. “Nothing is the matter. I’m just a little tired from my schedules lately, I’m really sorry if it’s been making you uncomfortable.” 

She pouts slightly, not quite believing your tale. “(Y/N),” she tells you, grabbing your hand. You felt guilt shake through your nerves at her touch - but you cannot tell her about you and Jaehyun, even if your life depended on it. “Don’t worry about me, okay? If something is the matter, tell me, okay? I’m your best friend - your sister - for a reason.” 

“Of course, Irene.” you say, the fib falling past your lips and disappearing into thin air. She nods once, a concerned gaze lingering on you for only one last second before she tears her eyes off of you to look back at the menu on the bar in front of her. Irene had invited you to accompany her at a new lounge that had opened up in Myeong-dong, apparently owned by a good friend of hers named Lee Taeyong. Seokjin was due to show up in a few minutes after a scheduled meeting, and according to Irene, may have in tow a friend of his that ‘you may be interested in.’

As she turns her attention towards the menu, you find yourself gazing back down at your tonic water, watching as the liquid swashes against the clear collins glass, soon becoming bored with it. Your eyes then find themselves exploring the sight of the lounge in front of you - you and Irene sat right in the middle of the lounge, at the bar, the sleek black marble table rounded as baristas around inside the circle juggle around alcoholic drinks and other platters to deliver to their patents. Outside of the circle, there are multiple seats with tables, occupied with several gentlemen in suits and ladies covered in Dior. The extravagance of it all was very familiar to you, for having grown up in an environment much like it, regardless; you would be lying if you were to say you hadn’t grown tired of it.

“Oh, they’re here!” Irene’s voice causes you to snap out of your daze and look towards the entrance in front of you, Seokjin’s familiar face coming into view as he hands one of the servers his Burberry coat; behind him is a man not much shorter than him, jet black tufts of hair and sharp observant eyes. For a second, you feel your heart race in your chest - whoever Seokjin had brought is definitely a beautiful man, and perhaps Irene was right about taking an interest in him, however, you shouldn’t jump before you had talked to him. 

“Hello, darling, hello (Y/N),” Seokjin embraces the two of you before he stands out of the way to pull in the man following idly behind him. Upon closer inspection, his facial features are some of the most sharpest you’ve ever seen - his eyes, obviously sharp from a distance, are cutting up close, jawline whetted and embracing against his sleek lips. You feel as if you’ve seen him before, but you can’t pinpoint where. “This is Kim Doyoung, he’s currently filming a movie under Kim Productions right now.”

The familiarity hits you like a train as you recall seeing his face on your screen many times - he’s a very celebrated actor in South Korea, especially so since he had broken into the Western film industry. You weren’t much of a big fan of movies, finding yourself falling asleep no matter the genre or amount of stars the movie acquired, but you know a famous face when you see one. After he greets Irene with a kind smile, you stretch your hand outwards to address him, a gracious simper on your face. “It’s very nice to meet you, Doyoung. I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

You and Doyoung are quick to become close, letting the engaged couple next to the two of you converse to themselves. As the night drones on and as people in identical Brunello suits and Dior dresses pile in and out of the lounge, you and Doyoung share stories of your childhood, finding out that he wasn’t born into the world of money like you were, instead having to find his way up and through the industry by making sacrifices. You discover that he has an estranged relationship with his parents, instead finding familial solace in his brother who is also an actor, named Gongmyung. You learn of his hobbies, that he enjoyed singing and reading, and find out that before he had pursued the world of acting, he had thought of heading into the direction of law and government. 

For an hour and a half, you find yourself delved into the person that is Kim Doyoung, realizing that this is discussion prevails information of most people you know other than your two closest friends. In the middle of a conversation on the topic of college, you begin to abandon the lingering memories that had been taking up your mind by the man who had left remnants of himself in it. Perhaps, you spoke too soon.

“Kim Doyoung,” the familiar voice sends jolts through your body as if it were an involuntary impulse. You tear your eyes from Doyoung’s sharp, yet friendly gaze and let them sink into Jung Jaehyun’s soft, but intense ones. He is dressed in a plain black button-up shirt, his sleeves rolled to his elbows as he cradles a glass of cheval blanc, arm adorned with his Daniel Wellington watch, hand deep in the pocket of his black trousers. His hair is slicked back but to the side, few strands swaying against his forehead. A smirk plays on his lip, and the sight of it makes your thighs clench in response. “It’s been a while since we’ve last met.” 

“Jung Jaehyun, long time no see,” Doyoung’s voice holds restraint when his eyes meet Jaehyun’s, a look of revolt flashing in them before he stands to his feet to bow. “I heard that Jung & Associates will be under your command soon. Congratulations.” 

“Yes,” he concurs, taking a sip of his champagne as he pulls up a chair next to Doyoung. He has not looked at you once since arriving into the conversation, but something about his tone of voice leads you to think he is blatantly aware of your presence, such as you are of his. “And I heard that you starred in a film that was nominated for an Academy award? How delightful. It was the one with the zombies, right?” 

Doyoung sets his glass of sauvignon blanc onto the bar, gulping down the liquid. “Yes.”

“Well, congratulations to you.” a haughty smirk guised as an amiable smile makes its way onto Jaehyun’s face before his eyes finally land on you, training on your face for a few seconds before they begin to slowly make their way down your form clad in a tulle minidress by Marchesa. “(Y/N), a pleasure to see you here.” 

“Jaehyun.” you nod once, tightening your fingers around the stem of your wine. “It’s nice to see you here too. The two of you know each other?”

Doyoung looks up from his glass, towards you. “The two of us were in multiple classes together during college, before I dropped out to pursue acting,” he explains. He seemed apprehensive, and you acknowledge why - the presence of Jaehyun is far too strong to bear. “We are very close friends. I see the both of you are close, as well.” 

Jaehyun opens his mouth to speak but you interrupt him before he says anything. “Actually,” you say, correcting him. “Jaehyun and I are just acquaintances - we know each other through his brother, Johnny.” 

“Ah, I see.” Doyoung nods, before he begins occupying himself with sips of his wine. Through the awkward silence, you turn your gaze to Jaehyun, whose eyes train on you with an emotion you can only decipher as need, a knowing glint in both of his pupils. Flashes of his fingers disappearing in and out of you play through your mind, and you cross your legs together to combat the growing feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“So what brings you here, Jaehyun?” you ask the man after he orders himself another glass of cheval blanc; Doyoung, in between the two of you, stays silent. 

“I just finished a meeting with Park & Kim Law, and was about to head to the exit when I saw you and an old friend conversing, and I thought, why not?” he says, leaning forward on both of his elbows to direct his gaze fully onto you without the diversion of Doyoung’s head. You quirk your eyebrow for a nanosecond at the fleeting thought of a law firm meeting taking place at a lounge, but you let it go. “And you, (Y/N), what brings you and Doyoung here? A date, perchance?” 

His voice is soft, but with the slightest inkling of venomous jealousy, quirking his eyebrows as the words leave his mouth. “No!” you find yourself saying far too quickly, an amused smile making its way onto Jaehyun’s face. “Doyoung and I actually just met, we’re here with Seokjin and Irene.” you turn around to face the engaged couple who were sat next to you, deep in conversation as if they were in their own world. You turn back towards Jaehyun, whose eyes were not looking at yours, but are now gazing at someplace lower. “Actually, I was just about to leave. I have a schedule tomorrow morning.”

“I see,” Jaehyun hums, his top teeth sinking down into his bottom lip as he listens to you. He turns to Doyoung, resting his jaw against his fist, almost taunting him. “Will you be accompanying her, Doyoung? Drop her off at home?” 

Doyoung lets out a sigh as he takes another swing of his wine, looking up towards you, the nervousness behind his eyes since Jaehyun had arrived replaced with a flame. “I’m afraid I still have business to discuss with Seokjin,” he says apologetically, straightening his back and turning his body fully around to ignore Jaehyun’s presence. “If I could, I would gladly drive you home - the streets aren’t safe this time of night.”

“It’s alright, Doyoung,” you let out a laugh, setting a hand down on his shoulder - as you do, you feel Jaehyun’s eyes burning through your hand. “I’ll just call my chauffeur, which, speaking of calling, may I ask for your number?” 

He complies, and you let out a shaky breath as you feel Jaehyun’s gaze lingering on your skin growing stronger and stronger; just as Doyoung hands you your phone back with his newly added contact, Jaehyun stands from his seat. “I can drive you home.” 

You raise your eyebrows in surprise before a slight smirk makes its way onto your lips. “You don’t have to, Jaehyun, really,” you tell him, letting out a breathy laugh. “I’ll just call my chauffeur - they are always on duty.”

“No, I insist,” Jaehyun speaks, far too quickly to save face. The tips of his ears are red, much to your pleasure; he’s jealous. “Doyoung is right, the streets aren’t safe this time of night, and I think it would be better for you to come with me considering that we already do have an established knowledge of each other - plus, it’s what Johnny would want for me to do. What’s your address?”

You simply quirk your eyebrow at him before standing up from your seat and collecting your things, reciting your address as Jaehyun puts it into a GPS app on his phone. As you turn towards your best friend, deep in conversation with her fiancé, you apprehensively tap her on her shoulder. Irene turns towards you in the middle of a sentence with a look of wonder on her face when she sees you ready to go. Searching for the will to lie to her face once again, you force your shaking breath to calm. “Hey, Irene, I have a really early schedule tomorrow - I’ll be leaving, alright?”

“Oh, is Doyoung taking you home?” asks Irene, eyes flashing to the jet-black haired man still seated on his stool, staring into his glass. You shake your head.

“No, Jaehyun will be taking me home,” your voice is nonchalant enough to not raise suspicion, but Irene’s eyebrows raise in disturbance the moment his name slips from your lips. She leans forward to spot Jung Jaehyun on the other side of Doyoung, already throwing on his tweed coat as he sends her his usual gracious, kilowatt smile. She leans back to you and parts her lips to ask why he had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, as well as why you were so casual in leaving with him, but you cut her off. “Don’t worry, Irene. If anything happens, Johnny will beat him up. It’s fine, don’t worry.” 

“Are you sure, (Y/N)?” Irene is wholly worried, grasping your forearm as she pulls you forward, closer to her, speaking in a hushed tone. “Seokjin and I can drop you off instead.”

“Irene, I’ll be fine, don’t worry. I don’t want to ruin your night, okay?” You let out a sigh, straightening your back again and giving her a radiant smile of deceit to tell her that you will be alright. She lets out a huff of air in defeat, nodding her head. As you pivot on your heel, you keep your head turned towards Irene as you begin to walk towards Jaehyun, hands already buried in the pockets of his coat. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Of course.” Irene says with a tight lip. Your eyes flash towards Doyoung, who watches you with eyes filled with an emotion you cannot decipher, before you flash him a smile. 

“Doyoung,” you nod your head. “I hope to see you soon, as well.”

“Of course.”

The cool January air obnoxiously hits your exposed legs the moment you step out of the lounge, the VIP parking lot littered with snow as you trail behind Jaehyun’s large form. You hear the jingling of his keys and the tone of his car beeping not too far ahead; he was quiet, and it caused a tension to seduce the air between the two of you. He opens the passenger side of his sleek noir Mercedes to let you climb in before rounding to his side, slamming his door closed. The purr of the engine is smooth as it glides down the city streets, flashes of flight originating from the tall buildings above decorating the skin of your thighs. A few moments later, you’re the first to part your lips. 

“Jaehyun,“ you start, voice calm, but your intentions are clear; teasing lightly laces your words.. “Is something the matter?”

He takes a few seconds to answer, you see his jaw clenching before he opens his mouth. “No,” he simply says. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” you can’t bear to keep the growing smirk off your lips. You play with the hem of your Marchesa dress, the tulle thin between your thumb and forefinger. “It just seems as if you’re… angry. A little tense.” 

“I’m not,” Jaehyun’s voice is calm, harmonized by the low purr of his engine. “Just a little confused as to why you seem so interested in Kim Doyoung.” 

You quirk your eyebrow as you listen to his tensed words, as if he were keeping himself contained within his body. You let out a scoff. “I’m not interested in him,” you trail off, watching the city pass you by as Jaehyun begins to near your estate’s territory. “I’m just… a little curious.”

“I can promise you, (Y/N),” he mutters. “There is nothing about that man you should be curious about.”

“Really?” you challenge him, turning to look at him again. The lamp posts that litter the streets highlight his facial structures in a way you have never seen - sleek cheeks cut from his high cheekbones, warm brown eyes cast shades darker; you never really noticed how long his eyelashes are, kissing his under eyes. “The way you jumped to steal me from him leads me to believe that there is.”

You watch as his lips slowly curl into a wry smirk, letting out a huff of air as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Are you presuming that I’m jealous, darling?” he lets out a chuckle, eyes turning into crescents but his tone is sinister. You press your thighs together. “Is that why you were suddenly so pursuant in flirting with him in front of me? You want to make me jealous? Because I saw you moments before I arrived and you were merely chatting with him like a normal friend - it wasn’t until I sat on that stool when you began to feel his arms through his blazer.”

An amused smile plays on your lips as you look back out the windshield window, seeing that he has arrived to your gates. The guard that mans the metal doorways only wakes up from his slumber to press the button that opens it, Jaehyun slowly driving his Mercedes through your gateway. 

“The fact alone that you had been watching me and analyzing the touches I gave him says a lot, Jung Jaehyun,” you say in a hushed voice as he pulls up at the front of your house. The lights of your home were all turned off, signifying that your mother isn’t home, and neither are any of the maids - it is a Saturday after all. You turn to him, a teasing smile on your face, seeing that he had already been gazing at you. “But if you’re not jealous, then maybe, just maybe, I’ll let him fuck me until I can’t walk.”

When Jaehyun’s lips mesh into yours in a flurry of desperation, the words that you had let fall past your lips fly out the window, his hands on the back of your neck as he pulls you closer towards him over his console. He unbuckles his seat belt before he turns his entire body to you, lips parting as his tongue enters your mouth; you let out a moan as he does, combing your fingers through his ash brown locks. 

“Not here,” you whisper, pulling away, his eyes opening before he looks at you in worry. “I want you to fuck me in my bed.”

The seconds it took for you and Jaehyun to climb out of his car, walk up your marble stairs, fish for your keys inside your purse blindly as the two of you continued to kiss each other before finally unlocking the door proves worth it as the rashness of his actions heightened the moment you shut the door behind you; he presses you against the whitewood and attaches his lips to yours again, hands set on your hips as you ring yours around the back of his neck. He smells of saffron and jasmin, slightly quiet moans escaping from his throat. 

“Fuck,” he says, playing with the hem of your dress, trying to pull it down your body but the handmade strains deem too sturdy. “Get this shit off.” 

“It’s Marchesa.” you pout, his eyes lingering on your lips, plump from kissing his own. 

“I don’t give a shit what it is or isn’t,” Jaehyun grunts. “I want it off of you. Now.” 

You heed to his word, reaching for the zipper on the side of your waist as you connect your lips to his again, the neckline of your dress relaxes, and as his tongue dances with yours, he slowly begins to slide your dress down your form. He pulls away to look at your figure, wearing only a lace black bra with matching panties, and he lets out a grunt. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispers, hands travelling up your body to cup your breasts through the fabric of your bra. His lips are close to your ear before he begins to kiss spots on your neck, tongue moving languishly against your skin. “God, I can’t wait to fucking ruin you.”

His words cause you to suck in a breath as you tighten your thighs together, and he seems to notice, a deep chuckle forming from his throat. You lean your head to the side to allow him more space to your neck, your hands travelling from his broad back to the front of his chest, trailing down towards his jeans. When you feel how stiff he is through the denim material of his pants, you pull away from him. He looks at you with wonder, your hooded eyes and smirk ringing clear to him as you slowly begin to push him towards your staircase, having him sit down on one of the carpeted steps while your knees touch the cool marble flooring of your entrance hallway. 

“You said it yourself, I owe you, don’t I?” you whisper as you unbuckle his belt. He watches you as you do, enchanted with the way your fingers moved to free his cock from their strain. When you finally release his stiff shaft from his underneath his boxers, you practically salivate at the sight - he was long and thick, the tip of his head pink in desperation. When your lips wrapped around his cock, he sinks his upper teeth into his bottom lip to keep a moan from escaping his mouth, eyebrows furrowed as your tongue slicks around his throbbing tip. 

You keep your eyes trained on his face, taking in every sinful expression that makes way on his angelic features; it should be a sin to look as angelic as he is but have the most sinful sounds fall past his lips - but the thought excited you. Ever since you had first seen him, Jung Jaehyun had looked like nothing else but like an art piece from the Romantic era had come to life ; with his gentle yet captivating umber eyes, to the way his lips curl as if he was always hiding a secret - to see him in such a filthy, obscene circumstances caused you to yearn for more. Even as you begin pumping your mouth around his cock, you yearned for more; for him to bury himself deeper into your throat. 

“Fuck! Yes! Yes, fuck, that’s it, take my cock into your pretty little mouth,” Jaehyun grunts, raking his fingers through your hair to form a makeshift ponytail, holding your head steady against his crotch. He begins to slowly rock his hips up and down, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth, lewd noises emitting from the back of your throat; you look up at him through your eyelashes with pleading eyes. He fucks into your mouth slowly, making sure he doesn’t hurt you, but deeply, hissing at the feeling of your throat spasming every time the tip of his cock grazes against it. 

“That’s it, darling, fuck, your throat feels so good.” he grunts as he does one long thrust, feeling your mouth around the entirety of his cock, burying it deep in your throat for a few seconds. As he keeps it there, relishing in the spasming of your tongue and the swishing of your saliva, your gag reflex threatens you, and you clutch at the flesh of his thighs for support, screwing your eyes shut. He slides out, strings of saliva connecting your plump lips to the base of his cock as you cough out in strained breaths; your eye makeup has already began to run down your face. “Such a good girl aren’t you, letting me fuck your mouth?”

Your eyes are trained on his when he stands up from his seated position, keeping your position kneeled down on the marble floors; biting your lips stained with saliva and lingering droplets of Jaehyun’s pre-cum, you nod meekly which causes a smirk to spread on Jaehyun’s lips. Your eyes trail down to his cock again, wanting it back in your system, but he seemed to have other plans as he hauls you to stand up by your hair. His other free hand makes its way to your clothed pussy, pressing against the moistened fabric, taking in the way your eyebrows furrow in hunger. 

“Look at you, such an eager whore,” He chuckles, hot breath pressing against your ear as his middle finger slides against the thin fabric pressed against your sopping heat. Your hips buck against the teasing single digit, and he lets out an amused laugh at your desperation. “All this just from my fingers? All this because I fucked your throat? Who made you this wet, darling?” 

You only focus on his finger sliding against your clothed folds, your eyes hooded as you clutch your hand against Jaehyun’s forearm. It’s when he tugs on your scalp again, forcing you to look into his eyes, when you realized he had asked you a question, dark eyes burning into yours. You open your mouth, breath shaking at the little contact. “You did, Jaehyun.” 

“Shit,” he grunts. “Where’s your bedroom?”

“Upstairs, left, very last door.”

He wastes no time in sweeping you off your feet, letting out a light gasp as he effortlessly carries you up the stairs, following the directions that you had given him, your legs dangling while you wrap your hands around his neck, lips attaching to his skin. He kicks your bedroom door open, and throws you on top of your blankets. When your back hits against your familiar plush mattress, you spend no time in recognizing the comfort you had grown up in as Jaehyun quickly pulls your panties down your legs, getting onto his knees on your carpeted floors. 

The moment you feel his warm tongue glide through your wet folds, you gasp out his name, throwing your head back at the unfamiliar sensation. Your toes curl as Jaehyun’s tongue circles around your clit, nub sensitive causing you to buck your hips forward; your fingers make their way into his hair, grabbing at his ash blonde locks to bring him closer. Your ex-boyfriend, Mingyu, had never given you this type of pleasure before, your few times together only ever resulting in a quick blowjob and dull sex that would only last for a few minutes - you have never been on the receiving side of oral, nor have you ever felt your body ache with pleasure at the most bare minimum things. Every touch Jaehyun puts on your skin spreads through your body like fire, and you want it more and more.

“Fuck, baby, you taste so sweet,” Jaehyun peppers the inside of your thigh with memoirs of his lips in the form of deep red bruises, the tip of his middle finger slowly tracing over your slit, coating his digit with your juices and of his saliva. You shudder at the familiarity of his fingers against sliding through your folds, having yearned for them inside of you again since your own couldn’t reach as far as he could - and when he eagerly slipped two fingers inside of you, you couldn’t help but let out a gasp. He grins as he hears the sinful sound. “Jesus, so fucking tight.”

He leans forward once more, reattaching his lips to your pussy, his tongue sliding against your clit in circular motions while begins to move the digits in and out of your slit, already having found a certain spot that led you whimpering his name. “J-Jaehyun,” you breathe out in short gasps, furrowing your eyebrows together as the sensation of his long fingers spreading you out racks your mind. “Fuck, Jaehyun, right there.”

He continues to fuck you with his fingers, tongue flashing past your clit in lewd motions - his hand travels up your body, goosebumps adorning your skin with each touch before he pulls down your lace bra, your nipples hardened against the cool air. He rolls your nub with his free hand, eyes trained on your face and taking in your expressions as the pleasure overtakes your body. He continues to graze the pads of his fingers against your spot, and your back arches off your mattress, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Are you gonna cum, darling?” he pulls his mouth away from your pussy, but his fingers continue to fuck into you. He looks up at you with taunting eyes and the sight only brings you to the edge further. The sight is enough to take you over the edge, the pads of his fingers grazing over your spot just one last time before your orgasm rakes through your body, your hips bucking against his still moving fingers - you mewl at his presence in your sensitive core. “That’s right, cum all over my fingers, just like that.” 

Your breathing is faltering, but Jaehyun wastes no time before he kneels onto your bed, the mattress dipping as you attempt to catch your breath. He peers down at you with a soft smile on his face, juxtaposing the lingering remnants of your juices and his saliva that frames his plumped lips. You only find peace for a fleeting moment at his tranquil expression before you feel his throbbing tip slide against your slit, the expression on Jaehyun’s face transforming into a teasing one. 

“Look at you, you’re a mess,” he taunts you, sliding his tip against your pussy, coating his head in your juices. You shudder at how close he is to finally plunging deep inside of you, but still being so far away. You whimper as he continues to do it, and although you’ve already had your orgasm, the aching need that had occupied the pit of your stomach since you had left your first encounter forming in your stomach again. “Jesus Christ, what will become of you once I give you my cock?”

“Fucking hell, Jung Jaehyun, just fuck me already.” you let out a frustrated whimper, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck to pull him closer, his body falling on top of yours as your lips move against his. He chuckles against them, before he positions himself against your slit, slowly pushing in. You pull away from his lips when he enters you, a gasp falling from your slacked jaw as he stretches you open.

“Jesus fuck, (Y/N), you’re so fucking tight!” he grunts when the base of his cock hits the mound of your pussy. You can do all but speak, eyes screwed shut as you clutch onto his forearms on either side of you. You’ve observed that he’s large before, but he stretches you out so well - he slowly begins to move his hips, and the slight pain begins to subside, transforming into pleasure. As you relax your body, you let out short gasps every time he thrusts back into you again. “Shit, you feel so good around me.”

You hear Jaehyun’s baritone voice, but it seems as if it’s located a million miles away, you floating bliss as you relish in the sensation of his cock sliding against your walls repeatedly. Each time he thrusts all the way back before slams inside of you again, you let out sharp gasps; his cock reaches into your core even further than his fingers already had, and it feels so, so good. 

“Look at you,” Jaehyun breathes as he picks up the pace of his hips, rutting into you at a faster speed, his arms pinned on either side of you. Your hair, usually styled and perfectly placed around your face, is splayed out in messy fashion against your cream sheets; your face is flushed with excitement and lust, jaw slack as profane noises fall past your mouth and into the hot air between both of your bodies; your eyes, usually so focused and attentive, are glossed over with desire, hooded as your tits bounce with each thrust Jaehyun drives into you. “So fucked out already. Doyoung could never fuck you this good, right, darling?”

“J-Jaehyun.” is all you are able to whine as he continues to fuck into you, hard and deep; the sounds of skin slapping against skin harmonized with the sound of the both of you breathing heavily is what occupies the space between the two of you. He pulls your hips higher, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder, allowing him to fuck you even deeper - the sensation of the tip of his cock grazing against you sensitive spot causes your nails to sink into the skin of his forearms. 

“Tell me again, darling,” ask Jaehyun, his hand moving towards your throat and gently wrapping his fingers around your neck. As he continues to drive his cock into your tight pussy, his voice comes out in strained grunts. “What did you want Doyoung to do to you?”

“F-Fuck,” you could barely form a word, each thrust he gives you causes all your thoughts to melt into obscurity, sentences jumbled into whines and moans. His clutch on your throat tightens and you’re almost sure your eyes are about to roll to the back of your head in pure bliss. 

“I asked you a question,” he growls, slamming into you again and again. “I expect you to fucking answer me.”

“I-I wanted him to,” You manage to squeak out a few words. “Fuck m-me until I c-couldn’t walk.” 

“And tell me, darling, who’s the only one who can do that?” he ruts his hips even faster than before, your bed squeaking as your mattress moves with every push he makes into your pussy. At this new angle, his the tip of his cock hits your spot perfectly, over and over again, a sensation that induces you to scream his name as you arch your back off the bed. 

“Jaehyun! Fuck!” you yell, hearing your voice echo against the walls of your bedroom - he doesn’t stop though - as you scream his name, laced with foul words, repeatedly, his cock continues to drive deep inside of your pussy, making sure he leaves a mark inside of you that only he can give.

“Fucking tell me,” he pulls his hand away from your throat to grab onto your face, forcing you to look at him. Tears of pleasure have began to spring against your waterline, falling past your lower eyelids and staining your bedsheets; your face is streamed with marks of your mascara and eyeliner, your lips plump from biting into them to refrain yourself from screaming his name. “Tell me, (Y/N), who’s the only one who can fuck you? Who does your tight fucking cunt belong to?”

“Y-You-” you whimper out in a quiet voice only to scream again when Jaehyun moves your hips higher, his cock driving into your deeper and harder than before. His grip on your waist is tight as he moves his hips; you’re sure to have bruises the next morning but all you could focus on at that moment is your nearing second orgasm. “Fuck, Jaehyun! You! It’s yours! Only you can fuck me, shit!”

“That’s right,” he leans back, yet another angle racking over your body, his throbbing tip hitting your sensitive core rhythmically. Sweat begins to drip from his forehead, his face glistening in the dim lighting of your bedroom - even now, even through the indecent circumstances the two of you were in, he is beautiful. “Your pretty little cunt is mine, only mine.”

 “Y-Yes, Jaehyun, it’s yours,” you whimper, clutching at your bed sheets. What had started as a lonely night had quickly become one filled with the sound of slapping skin and a creaking bed, Jaehyun’s deep grunts music to your ears as you feel your walls spasm around his cock. A knot had formed in the pit of your stomach again, a sense that only Jaehyun had ever given you, and you feel your mind haze over. “J-Jaehyun, fuck! I’m cumming! I’m cumming!”

“Cum for me baby,” Jaehyun whispers, and your eyes to roll to the back of your head as the feeling rakes your body, sending goosebumps over your skin - you hear Jaehyun’s moans becoming louder as you cum but they are muffled with the stir of your pleasure, seeing stars in the darkness behind your eyelids. Your body goes numb, core sensitive, but Jaehyun continues to fuck into you through your orgasm. “Fuck, baby, are you on the pill? I need to cum inside you.” 

You only simply whisper out a yes, voice shaking and broken from the screaming you had done all night, still caught in a daze from your orgasm, before feeling Jaehyun’s hips falter as he lets out a low groan. His thrusting slows and his jaw becomes slack, eyes directed downwards, at his cock connected to your pussy, ash blonde hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks flushed with both lust and exhaustion. He fills you up with his cum with shaking breaths, it is when he pulls out when you feel the warm liquid slip out of you. 

He wastes no time in leaning down to kiss you again, lips molding together as if they were meant to be pressed against each other - his hands, now gentle, caressing your hair and your hands cupping his face. The two of you have left memoirs of each other on the other’s body, and although you aren’t sure what the two of you quite are, the tranquility that fills the air when you look into his eyes after he pulls away from your lips, a gentle smile making its way onto his face before he pulls himself beside you against the plush pillows if your bed, only brings you an emotion you haven’t felt in a very long time. 

“You’re so beautiful.”

That night, when you fell asleep in Jaehyun’s warm embrace, as his heaving breaths slowly transition into a soft, rhythmic snoring, you are happy.

-----

Jung Jaehyun, to put it simply, is like a drug to you. If his presence is elsewhere, your body aches for him, almost begging for company even without your knowledge, and he knows it. The haughty smirk that you had grown used to ever since the first time your eyes laid on him had grown wider now, even more when his name is all you’re able to say whenever he drives his cock into your core. You’re selfish; almost every single night is a night spent with him, with your bodies pressed together in a dance between the sheets of your bed, or his bed, or whatever environment the two of you occupy. 

There was one time, only a day after the first time he had fucked you, when he had picked you up from your home - your mother believed that you were leaving for Irene’s house to pay her a visit, but she was awfully incorrect. You and Jaehyun never made it to where he was planning to take you, having parked deep in a bundle of trees, somewhere far where no one could find the both of you, before fucking you in the backseat of his noir Mercedes. His windows were tinted and the steam that had accumulated on the glass would prove it difficult to look through if anyone were able to find his parked car, but the rocking motion of his automobile probably would have proved your theory wrong.

There was another time, a week after the first time he had fucked you, when you visited the Jung & Associates tower deep in the heart of the city during the evening, when almost all of their employees had left. That night, he bent you over his mahogany desk and drilled into you ruthlessly, his necktie disposed of, wrapping it around your neck to keep you on your knees on top of the table, your soaked panties shoved into your mouth to muffle your whines and screams in case a few employees loitered around the office on the other side of Jaehyun’s door. 

And another time, your favourite time, when you had a flight to Los Angeles to oversee a branch of Decoré’s boutiques and their dodgy revenue, when a knock reverberated on the door to your penthouse, and upon opening it, you were greeted with the familiarity of Jaehyun’s lips on yours. He promised to fuck you on every surface, eager to see you coming undone on top of each piece of furniture laid out in your penthouse. You could barely remember that night; having had innumerable orgasms, each memory is a blur of lust and pleasure - but you can recall being pressed against the panoramic window that blessed you the view of all of Hollywood as he fucked into you from behind, deep voice reminding you of your blasphemy while people went on about their day below the two of you.

Your life is filled with responsibilities and expectations - you are expected to have a beautiful posture, a graceful expression, careful movements, and wise words; never to have a cuss word fall past your lips, never to have a revolted expression grace on your face. If you were to make one wrong move, the future of Decoré may be in peril - but with Jaehyun, as obscene as your actions with him are, you feel as if you are truly yourself. With his throbbing cock pumping in and out of your core, all your thoughts of maintaining your prim and proper reputation are pushed out of your mind, instead focused on raking your fingernails down the skin of his back.

Today, your hands are occupied with tugging on your Hermés scarf that you had wrapped around your neck, concentrated on cloaking the marks forged on the skin of your neck that Jaehyun had left with his lips the night prior. Today, there was yet another gala that you were invited to, some politician that your mother is acquainted with. To be excited is nothing close to how you really feel, knowing of the dull and tediousness that the rest of the night will consist of - you’re only thankful that your stylists didn’t force you into a corset again. You aren’t even sure why you had to attend, having no connection to the point of the gala except for your mother - you would much rather be at home, perhaps reading a book, watching a movie, telling Irene to accompany you, or perhaps texting Jaehyun to come over once again.

Your prediction for the night proves correct when you find yourself sitting alone in the corner of the venue, against the royal blue crushed velvet chairs as you stare into the liquid of your wine glass. You are adorned in a pure white dress by Elie Saab, and you were far too afraid to drop any of the desserts on it in fear of a stain, so you settle for just a simple drink instead. Tchaikovsky drones from the weary looking orchestra at the top of the stairwell, and you’re almost sure you’ve memorized each flat or sharp were located in the flurry of notes. Your mother, the social bird, is off conversing with other people that she’d acquainted herself with, a large, yet fake, smile on her face - it seemed as if no one your age was present, so you were grateful at the fact that her matchmaking business for you will be closed for the night.

You let out a sigh as the night drones on, the conclusion for the evening seemingly never arriving. You are unsure as to how the people around you seem to be enjoying themselves - Do people enjoy boring things as they grow older?you think, but you would never say it out loud. 

“I like your scarf.” 

The tone of voice automatically causes you to sit up straight, turning your head towards the direction it originated from. The man in question pulls up a seat next to you, a kind smile on his lips before sitting down on the crushed velvet padded seat. You quirk your eyebrow in surprise at his presence - you’d assume that he’d be someplace else, enjoying his night, but as you thought more about it, the environment fit his field of expertise.

“Thank you - it was a last minute choice, considering the circumstances.” you quip, setting down your glass of wine to tug at the scarf wrapped around your neck, careful to not expose the hickeys that dance against your skin. You’re unsure on how to act around him in public, you’re so used to letting your desires with him known that acting in your usual grace is unnatural for you. “What are you doing here?”

“Actually,” Jaehyun cocks his head to the side as he smiles, a dimple forming in his cheek, quirking his eyebrow as he lifts his champagne glass to his lips to take a sip. “I have a reason to be here, darling; the man who constructed this gala is a client of Jung & Associates. I should be the one asking you that.”

“Really?” you ponder on his sentence for a few seconds as you twirl the stem of your wine glass between your fingers. “Hm, first time I’ve heard of someone’s lawyers attending an event that their client hosts.” 

“Well, he’s a very corrupt man,” Jaehyun says, turning his gaze towards you. Even just his stare causes you to feel a lustful desire - you cannot comprehend how much power he has over you. “You didn’t hear this from me, but he’s evidently guilty in a case of embezzling money and drugs underneath the guise of his campaign.” 

Your eyebrows slightly raise in shock, gasping lightly. “Oh my gosh, really?” you ask, before furrowing your eyebrows in wonder. “Why have you accepted him as a client knowing that he’s guilty?” 

“I was not the one who accepted him, darling,” he says, resting his cheek against his fist. His stance is relaxed, but his tone of voice seems to hold weight that you cannot pinpoint. “My father did - they were college buddies back in the day. Plus, you know what our kind desires - we all just want money, right?”

Your eyes slowly trail from his eyes to your drink, pondering on his words. “I guess you’re right.”

“Speaking of my father,” Jaehyun’s voice is hushed now, and uncharacteristically panicked. “Here he comes. Try to act casual, can you do that for me?”

“Of course.” you whisper back, getting ready to put your front on again, lifting your gaze just in time to spot the tall, broad-shouldered man walking towards your table. It’s a little jarring, really, seeing Jaehyun’s father for the first time; it’s as if Jaehyun had aged several years and had gone bald - the image in your head causes the corner of your lips to quiver humorously but you contain your laughter.

“Jaehyun, I’ve been looking for you since we entered this gala, there are people who would like to congratulate you.” his father’s voice is gruff, evident of experienced smoking. He barely pays attention to your presence, his eyes set on Jaehyun only, and the man beside you, whose gait is always dripping with confidence, seems to wane. You gulp as you look between Jaehyun and his father, the tension in the air appearing seemingly out of nowhere - bad tension.  

“I’m talking with a friend, father.” Jaehyun’s voice, all the stern that you have grown used to since hearing it for the first time, is softer. His father finally tears his glare at his son, his pupils snapping towards you, and suddenly, you understand why Jaehyun was acting menial. His father squints his eyes at you, observing you with scrutiny, and you let out a shaky breath before parting your lip.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Jung.” you outstretch your hand over the table for him to shake, and the older man simply glances at it before setting his eyes on your face again. Your front almost falters, your hand retreating back into your lap as you burn with humility. 

“Who are you?” he asks you, voice imperious. 

“She’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N) of Decoré,” Jaehyun answers for you. His tone of voice recovered slight dominance but his stance stays humble beside yours. “I’ve told you about her, remember?” 

“Oh yes,” Mr. Jung answers, jaw square as he peers down at you, familiarity in his eyes. “That fashion brand. How is that going?”

You’re confused at his question, having never met him in the past, but you answer anyway. “It’s going alright, thank you.” 

He nods once, finally tearing his weightful glare from you and returning back to his son. “Come now, Jaehyun,” he says, turning his body as a way to signal his leaving, waiting for Jaehyun to follow him. “There are people I’d like you to meet before your birthday next week.” 

You turn your head to Jaehyun in surprise. “It’s your birthday next week?” 

Jaehyun slowly stands from his chair, eyes slightly irate and training on his father, but his voice is gentle when he answers you. “Yes, on Valentines day.” He finally looks towards you, gaze softening when they land on your features, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion - why is he acting like that? “I have to go now, (Y/N). I’ll talk to you soon, okay?” 

“Of course.” you nod once, lips pressed tightly together as you watch Jaehyun’s form walk towards his father around the table. He gives you one last glance, a look that you cannot decipher, once again, appearing in his irises, before he turns his entire body from you, leaving you to sit alone.

As you watch his retreating form, you think of the newfound information that you had uncovered about Jung Jaehyun, of his birthday, and you realize that, although you know of Jung Jaehyun, that you know of the rumours surrounding him, and know of his body and what he’s capable of from the nights you’ve spent with him for the past month, you don’t sincerely, truly, know him.

-----

Jung Jaehyun does not talk to you soon; after the gala reached its conclusion, your phone remained silent for the following week, aside from Irene’s text messages as well as your mother’s phone calls to ask you how the house is going while she’s on a brief New York visit to oversee one of Decoré’s branches. Even Johnny, who would usually spam your notifications with the latest of internet memes, has been silent. For the following week, you wake up every morning to see if Jaehyun had contacted you, met with disappointment when you’re unable to find his name in your notifications, and you head to bed every night, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he’d text you before you fall asleep. You are reluctant on whether you should worry or not - perhaps he’s busy, he is taking the clutches of his company from his father’s grasp, but it’s on his birthday, when you greet him with a text only to be met with a notification that he’s read your message, when dread begins to pool your stomach.

“Is there something the matter?” 

Irene’s voice causes you to snap out of your daze while you stare at the screen of your phone. It brings you a case of déja vu for only a second before you finally look up at her, a strained smile on your face. 

“Hm? No, nothing’s the matter,” you act nonchalant, setting your phone back down in your lap as you cross your legs over each other. The two of you are seated in your bedroom, Irene splayed out on your bed as she hugs one of your pillows, and you at the stool of your vanity. “I’m fine, Irene. Why?” 

“(Y/N),” Irene sighs as she sits up, putting the pillow she had been cuddling down against your plush mattress. “You’ve been acting different since your visit to Milan.” 

“Have I?” you continue your front. It’s disgusting how easy you lie to her. “I feel fine, though.” 

“Look, (Y/N),” Irene lets out a sigh, and you inwardly cringe - you know that she isn’t buying your words. “It’s fine that you don’t want to tell me, I don’t wanna pester it out of you because it’s your business. However, just know, no matter what it is, I’m here to talk to you, okay? If you told me you killed a man in Milan, I will back you up. I’m basically your sister, I’m here for you always. Please remember that.”

Her words eat at you with guilt, and you tear your eyes away from her, suddenly finding solace in your hands folded in your lap. “I know, Irene,” you whisper, voice shaking. “When the time comes, I’ll tell you. I promise.” 

“Okay, now put your phone down,” Irene hops off the bed, a grin on her face. “It’s Valentine's day; you’re single, and my fiancé is in New York. Let’s go eat ice cream and watch romance movies.” 

The rest of the night is spent lounging on the large couch in your sitting room with your best friend, nostalgic scenes of love confessions and innocent touches playing on the screen of your large television. Your mouths were filled with spoonfuls of ice cream, giggling and squealing at the scenes, as if both of you hadn’t already memorized every line from watching it repeatedly since your early teens. When the main character finally melts into the kiss of their love interest, Irene grabs the cushion next to her and doesn’t hesitate to hit you in the shoulder with it, whining at how romantic the setting was, and you giggle loudly as your spoon falls from your bucket of ice cream onto the floor, the metal clanging against the marble tiles. For a few moments, you forget about your lingering thoughts, phone abandoned in your room upstairs, sitting on the cold wood of your vanity’s table.

“Oh gosh,” Irene jumps to her feet when she looks out the window after the two of you finish your third movie. The rain pangs against your window pane harshly, coating the glass in thick rainwater. “It’s raining so hard, I should call my chauffeur.” 

“Just stay over,” you tell her, still seated on the couch. Your home is like her second home, and her home was your second home; the two of you grew up surrounded by each other’s childhood, so her sleeping over isn’t anything new. “You can call in your chauffeur tomorrow, it’s raining really hard.”

She lets out a sigh. “I know, but I have to get up super early tomorrow in time for my bridesmaid’s gown fittings,” she takes a hand through her hair as she fishes for her phone in her pocket, hitting the contact for her chauffeur on her screen. She holds it to her ear, and apologetically, asks for them to pick her up from your home. After apologizing profusely and thanking them through her phone, she ends the call and lets out another sigh, grabbing her coat that she had splayed over the arm of your couch. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.” 

You frown, but nod, standing up as you grab the empty buckets of ice cream on the coffee table and push your feet into your slippers. You head to the kitchen to dispose of the garbage and to wash the two spoons before putting them in the rack to dry. Your maids weren’t home, as it is a Saturday once again - you favoured cleaning your home though - although it was rather large, you find it relaxing. As the few minutes pass by, Irene’s ride has arrived at the front of your doors; she gives you a warm embrace before she takes her leave.

“Remember what I said, okay?” she reminds you of her words in your bedroom, to trust her with anything, and you nod once.

“Of course,” you tell her. “Have a safe drive home, alright?” 

When you close your door, you let out another sigh as the silence of your home overtakes your presence. The juxtaposition of the hustle and bustle of the nearby city, hearing honks of cars in the distance, is ironic to you as you head back to your kitchen; you felt as if you were isolated from the outside world. Having grown sheltered, with only a few close friends in order to protect your reputation, you’ve naturally become a homebody - when you’re not travelling for your own interests or for affairs pertaining to your job, you’re almost always found at home, sitting in silence. 

You sigh as you take out a nearly empty bottle of domaine de la romanée-cont from one of the cupboards in your kitchen, pouring just a little into a glass that you’ve found in another cupboard. Your mind flashes back to Jung Jaehyun once again, wondering if he’s enjoying his birthday, if he’s enjoying his Valentine’s day, pondering on why he hasn’t contacted you since you last met. You think, perhaps Irene’s words at the beginning were correct - he’s had his fun with you, and now he’s left you to pick up what he’s left behind; you quickly push the subject from your mind. After downing a sip of your wine, you dispose the glass into the sink, not bothering to wash it, opting to do it tomorrow, your mind occupied with getting ready for bed. Just as you turn into your entrance hallway to walk up the stairs towards your room, your doorbell rings. You let out a hum - Irene must have forgotten an item of hers before leaving. Your fuzzy slippers swish against the floor as you walk towards the white door, unlocking the latch before pulling the heavy door open. You part your lips to greet Irene, but what comes falling past your lips is a gasp instead, the sight of Jaehyun standing on your porch a shock to you.

His ash blonde hair is doused with rain water, droplets falling from the wet strands and kissing his shoulders, adorned in Saint Laurent that clings to his skin tautly. He’s panting, as if he had ran all the way to your house, and at the sight of his chest rising and falling rapidly, you believe that that’s exactly what he did. He steps into your home, his frigid, wet hands automatically cupping your face before he pulls you towards him, your lips crashing into his cold ones in desperation and ache. For only a fleeting moment, you melt into his kiss, but quickly regain your composure, pulling away from him. 

“What are you doing here?” you question him, pushing his wet hair away from his face. You look into his eyes, they seem red and swollen - like he’s been crying. 

“I came to see you.” he answers you, voice aberrantly frail - his breath is shaking with each inhale and exhale he takes. “I missed you.” 

“Jaehyun, what’s wrong?” you whisper, wondering why he’s acting this way - it’s his birthday, he should be happy, yet he seems so desolate, so crushed. “Have you been crying?” 

“Darling, please,” his voice is hushed, cold hands still cupping your cheeks as he searches your eyes. “I… I can’t tell you yet.” 

“Why?” you urge him on, desperate to know more about what he’s feeling, about what he’s thinking.

“I… I just can’t,” for the first time, he’s unable to come up with an answer to your questions - the doom in your stomach pools even deeper, but you hold onto the last lingering hope that burns in your heart. “Please, I just need you. I need you right now. I need you badly.”

It’s humiliating how simple words that slip past his lips could cause you to obey so quickly, pulling him in for a deeper kiss as he closes the door behind him. Your lips crash against each other in a flurry of teeth and tongue while he grabs your ass, urging you to jump, before wrapping your legs around him. In haste, he carries you up the stairs, memorizing where to go after having been in your home several times in the same circumstances, before throwing you onto your bed. 

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers against your skin, kissing down your neck while he undoes the lace that ties your silk robe adorning your body. He unclasps your bra quickly, and you let out a sigh when he uncovers your chest, his tongue kissing the valley between your breasts before slowly enveloping his tongue around one of your nipples. “So fucking beautiful, so fucking innocent, so fucking good to me.”

You run your fingers through his drenched locks, brushing them back away from his face as his tongue flicks over your sensitive nipple repeatedly, his other hand doing the same to the other one, rolling the nub with the pad of his thumb. The sight in front of you, Jaehyun’s dark eyes boring into yours while his lips are occupied with your breasts, is breathtaking; your thighs press together intuitively, but once his free hand lets go of your breast, he gently pushes them apart. 

“Jaehyun.” you whisper when you feel his hand slip past the waistband of your shorts and panties, middle finger toying with your clit. He continues to lap at your nipple in circular motions, the sensation of his touch against your nubs causing you to breathe heavily. Slick with your juices, he dips a finger into you, watching your face when his middle finger penetrates you core. You let out a whine, an aching desire for his girth not met by his single finger, but it grazes against your spot which causes your whine to break into a whimper.

“So sensitive, always so fucking tight,” he pulls away from your breast, taking off his drenched shirt before kneeling lower to position his face in front of your sopping heat, slowly beginning to pull your shorts and panties down. In just a few minutes, you had already become drenched with lust underneath Jaehyun’s touch, heat rising in your cheeks when you feel his lips peppering kisses along the inside of your thighs. “I’ll take care of you tonight, darling.”

You still haven’t grown used to the pleasurable sensation of his tongue against your folds, finding yourself gasping in shock every time you feel him lick a strip against your opening. Your hands automatically find their way enlaced in his wet locks, bucking your hips against his face when his tongue grazes your clit. He pushes your legs further apart, lewd noises emitting from his mouth and your sopping core, hushed by the heavy rain hammering against the walls of your home. 

“Jae!” you let out a sharp gasp when you feel his tongue dip inside you, your fist clenching his hair to bring him closer as a low chuckle emits from his throat. Usually, he’d pull away and taunt you for being so eager, and continue to tease you by barely paying attention to the spot you needed him the most, but tonight, he continues to fuck his tongue into you, grip on your thighs to spread your legs apart burning. “Shit, that feels so fucking good!”

He replaces his warm tongue with two of his fingers, coated in a thin sheen of saliva before he pushes into you, tongue lapping at your clit. He knows your body so well, he knows what to do to push you over the edge and now, in just a few minutes, he’s already got you on the brink of your first orgasm. 

“Jaehyun, fuck!” you scream as he rapidly fucks his fingers into you, tongue violent against your clit. You spasm around his fingers, tugging at his scalp as your hips begin to tremble. He continues to fuck you, eyes casted downwards towards your fucked cunt, focused on bringing you over the edge. He pumps his fingers in and out of you at a quick speed, his digits disappearing inside of you one last time before you scream once more. “Shit, I’m cumming!”

He slows his fingers down as you come apart around his digits, finger fucking you through your orgasm. As you let out one last sigh, he pulls his fingers out, wet with your lust, before climbing back up to your face to kiss you, lips wet with saliva and your juices. He moans into the kiss, hands needy as they knead your breasts, his tongue entering your mouth hotly. You flip your bodies over, you on top of him now, his hands moving down your waist to cup your ass. 

You lean back and he watches you with adoration - your heart flips in your chest for only a moment before lust fills your mind again when you feel his stiff cock against your thigh through his jeans. You move down, your turn to kneel on the floor in front of him as you begin to undo his pants. He watches you with his teeth buried in his bottom teeth, brushing your hair away from your face as you pull his cock from his boxers. You let out a breathy giggle at how pink his throbbing tip is before circling your tongue around it, earning a hiss from him before you fully engorge it into your mouth. 

“Fuck, yes,” he grunts, pushing himself up on his elbows to get a better view of you wrapping your lips around his cock, raking his hands through your hair. “Yes, just like that, suck my cock just like that.”

He goes crazy at the sight of your lips wrapped around him, the sight is enough to nearly push him over the edge - your innocent eyes, your hands that clutch at his every time you pump your mouth into him deeper, the way your eyebrows furrow when you gag on his tip. “So beautiful,” he whispers, his thumb caressing your cheek, a sweet act that juxtaposes the situation. “Just like that, your pretty mouth takes my cock so well.”

You continue to suck his cock, your hands pumping the parts you aren’t able to reach - you can almost feel how desperate he is every time his tip hits the back of your throat, the throbbing clear. You weren’t used to Jaehyun being needy like this, being so gentle, taking his time - but the thought made you excited. 

“Shit,” he grunts when you pull away from his cock with a pop, moving your head lower to pay attention to his balls before licking a strip up his shaft. Just as you are about to wrap your lips around his cock again, he sits up, cupping your face. “Fuck, I’ll cum if you keep doing that.”

His lips find yours once again and this time, he’s the one to flip the both of you over. He rids of his jeans that had pooled around his ankles before he climbs into your bed, hovering above you as you spread your legs open, aching for him to finally be inside of you. You had waited for him for a week, you yearned for his presence all those days - and now you were finally being filled by the man you wished for. 

He slides his cock deep inside of your cunt before he begins to move his hips slowly, leaning forward to attach his lips to yours. You could never get enough of his cock, it was as if he was made to fit inside you just right, his tip grazing against your g-spot repeatedly as his tongue dances with yours. You moan into each other’s mouths, your bedroom filled with obscene sounds of saliva and skin slapping against skin. 

“Mine,” he whispers against your neck when he pulls away, hips gently rocking against yours. His cock hits you in just the right places, whines emitting from your lips as he continues to speak. “I want you to be mine.” 

“I am,” you answer, wrapping your legs around his hips in an effort to get him to thrust deeper. He nips at the skin of your neck as he ruts into you. “I’m yours, Jaehyun. I’m all yours.”

Jaehyun doesn’t answer, only responding in deep groans, as he leans back to grab your legs, pulling them over his shoulder to find a better angle in fucking you. When he leans back, you’re almost certain you see tears formed in his eyes, but with you hips slightly lifted from your bed, the angle proving perfect as his cock hits your g-spot even more accurately, you find your thoughts slipping out of your mind when your muffled whines to turn into louder mewls. 

“Jaehyun!” you gasp loudly when he begins to pick up the pace, fingers gripping onto the skin of your thighs so hard that you’re sure they’ll leave marks the next day. You feel your walls begin to spasm around him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your vision slowly begins to turn into a blur. “Jaehyun, I’m going to cum! Fuck!”

“Don’t cum yet, baby,” he says through strained grunts. “I want to cum together. You’re on the pill right?”

You let out a meek yes as you attempt to hold your orgasm under wraps, finding it hard to do so as the tip of Jaehyun’s cock hits your spot over and over again - your body felt numb and all you wanted to do was to let go, your blurry vision suddenly becoming decorated with stars. “J-Jaehyun, I-I can’t hold it.”

“Yes you can, darling,” he cooed, bringing a hand down to draw circles on your clit with the pad of his thumb. The action has your legs trembling, breath hitching in your throat at the overpowering sensation takes your body. “Hold it for me, you can hold it right? You’re so fucking good to me, that’s why.”

“Jaehyun!” you let out a ripping scream, loud enough to hear it reverberate out your opened bedroom door and down the hallway. Tears begin to form on your waterline at the frustration of your waning orgasm as well as the desperation to let go, letting out a sob as he continues to fuck into you savagely. He drives into your pussy with full force repeatedly, pulling all the way out and snapping back in, and you find it so hard to keep your orgasm under control. “Jaehyun, please!”

“Fuck, baby,” he moans loudly, feeling your walls spasming around him in a frenzy. “Fuck, I love you so fucking much, fuck, cum for me. Cum for me, darling.” 

And you do as he says, finally letting go of your built up orgasm, the sensation ripping through your nerves and causing you to see an entire galaxy behind the darkness of your eyes. The tips of your fingers and toes burnt as if flames kissed them and your body is both sore and numb but with the greatest pleasure. Through the fog, you feel Jaehyun continuing to thrust his cock into you before stalling deep inside your core, spurts of his cum shooting into you and filling you up before he pulls out, streaks of white pouring out after him. 

The both of you come to, panting heavily, before his lips fall onto yours once again, bringing you into a passionate kiss. His lips are familiar to you now, and you cannot even begin to think of a time where they didn’t belong to you. He wraps his arms around you to bring you closer, head resting against your plush pillows before he pulls away. There’s a stray tear that falls from his eye, and you are unsure why it is there.

“I love you, (Y/N),” he whispers, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “I love you so fucking much. I hope you know that.”

“I love you too, Jung Jaehyun,” you whisper, a smile forming on your face, kissing his forehead. The words feel right when they leave your lips, as if they were meant to be said by you and to be heard by him. “Happy birthday, my love.”

You press your lips against his for the final time that night, the electricity clear through the air when he relaxes into you. He smelled like roses, he felt like warmth, and he moved like honey. When you pull away with a gentle smile formed on your face, your thumb wipes away his stray tear, unknowing of the burning pain that had formed them in the first place. 

——-

Waking up to the absence of Jaehyun’s warmth, the bare sheets holding nothing  but the outline of his form, is nothing new to you to start the day with - often, after your affairs at night, the moment sunlight cracks through the night sky, Jaehyun would rise early to sneak back into his own estate in order to avoid a quarrelsome conversation with his father. Instead of waking up with his arms wrapped around your form and kisses against your forehead, you’d only be met with the kisses of sunlight that slips through your creme curtains grazing against your skin, and although you can’t deny the slight disappointment that brews in your stomach at the sight of his absence, you wholly feel a bit relieved every time you’d come to find a note that he’d left you just before taking his leave. 

Recalling your memories of the night prior isn’t an activity that you’re new to, either; you rejoice in the ghost touches left by their former presence as you reply the scenes of pleasure in your mind - Jaehyun’s lips against yours, tongues dancing together like wild flames, his hips rocking into you and fervent as if he wanted to become one with you. As your memories of the night before come to an end, your heart beat waned slightly upon remembering the way Jaehyun had acted. You recall the sight of tears lining his waterline, eyes red and movement filled with desperation and longing. You had fallen asleep before you were able to ask him about it, and he had left far too quickly for you to ask him after waking up.

When you tossed your legs over the edge of your plush mattress, the pads of your feet meeting the carpeted flooring, you had glanced towards your bedside table to see if Jaehyun had left you a note that morning, excitement bubbling in your stomach; the notes that he’d leave for you to read in the morning would range from the most romantic poetry, nothing but sweet nothings written on the page, to the most obscene, filthy string of words, degrading scenarios that he wishes to act upon the next time he sees you which would usually cause a throb to emit in your core early in the morning. Upon looking at your table that morning, though, your bedside table was empty; nothing but your usual reading lamp and phone resting atop the wood. You had furrowed your brows together in confusion at first before pushing the thought out of your mind, deciding not to ponder too much about it. Instead, you eyed your sleeping phone on the table, the device rousing awake with a text notification that had you reaching for it automatically. You had hoped it were the man in question that had occupied your mind since waking up, but you were met with a mere sigh when you see that it’s just your manager, reminding you of the day’s itinerary. 

Another day, another gala that you had to attend, and although this gala may prove to be important to your rise to the head seat of Decoré, you couldn’t help but feel tired of the constant jubilees you had to go to. Since returning back to Seoul from your short trip to California to overlook your boutique’s Los Angeles branch for your mother, you had delved into the planning and designing of your first few clothing pieces - you were excited, you truly were, since you had notebooks upon notebooks filled with your sketches and ideas for clothing pieces that ranged from gowns to the most simplest scarves. Yet, nervousness and apprehension is what eats at your stomach when you realize that your first ever piece, a gown the tone of lavender made entirely of tulle and lace, strewn with colourful flowers as if the sheer fabric had been dragged through a garden, is making its debut tonight. You were unsure what the event is for, only having heard from your mother that it reigns important for the history of Decoré; you knew what she really meant - it brings the company vast amounts of money. Even now, when you sit in a rounded table in the venue with Irene by your side, who had accompanied you for your own encouragement, you can’t seem to stop your fingers from twirling the glass stem that holds your wine.

“Irene,” you concur to your best friend, gulping down vast amounts the liquor Irene had fished for you. Your other hand was preoccupied from fisting at the Christian Dior dress that adorned your body, the strewn golden pendants that hung against the noir silk digging into the skin of your palms. Irene’s hands find their way to yours, snaking her fingers through yours for comfort as she looks at you worriedly. It isn’t that Irene’s presence doesn’t give you a sense of peace, because she’s been slightly successful at her attempts of giving you comfort since the night had started, but perhaps if your mother was here you’d feel a lot more at ease - but, evidently, the weather in New York seems to disregard your feelings, cancelling your mother’s flight back to Seoul that morning. “I don’t think I can do this.” 

“Yes you can, (Y/N),” Irene says in a hushed whisper, careful that other patrons that attended the jubilee won’t bear witness to a future chief executive going through a mild breakdown. She rubs the back of your palm with “You’ve dreamt of this all your life, and you worked so hard on creating this dress. Once the dress is revealed, your weariness will go away, I promise.”

You let out a deep breath at her words, genuinely thankful that she’s there by your side to help you. As you gulp, you nod at her. “Okay,” you huff. “You’re right… you’re right. I can do this.” 

The gala itself is nothing different from other galas you’ve been to - men dressed in their uniform fashion of black and white suit and ties, ladies dressed with the most expensive fabric that sweeps against the floor coupled with their moussed hair and glamorous eye makeup. Unlike most events that you’ve attended, the people that sit around different circular tables housing wine glasses in their palms are unfamiliar to you - you grew up in a social network underneath your mother’s doing, Irene is a part of it, Lucas, who you had met formally several months ago by virtue of your mother, is also a part of it; each and every gala you have been to were filled with people you or your mother knew of - so the unknown characters around you right now, coupled with the unrevealing of your first ever design, ultimately terrifies you. You can pick out a few faces; Irene, of course, your manager, who had been gracing the dessert table for the past hour, and two of your stylists who continuously kept an eye on your hand that had gone back to fisting at the fabric of your dress, weary at wrinkles. 

“(Y/N)?” a familiar voice rings which causes your ear to perk, turning your head to the direction of the tall jolly man who lugs his shorter husband around, and another boy, a much younger boy, follows behind the both of them. Johnny has a quizzical look on his face, as if he were pondering the reason on why you were present - you must have had the same expression too, because he lets out laughter. “It’s peculiar to see you at an event such as this.” 

“I should say the same to you, Johnny.” you say, hand relaxing in Irene’s clasp. She relaxes her fingers and lets your hand go, consequently wiping her hands with a napkin as she makes a teasing quip about how clammy your hands are. You let out a pout at her comment before turning back around towards Johnny - this doesn’t seem like an event he would usually attend as well; he’s more of a youthful socialite gathering type of man, even more peculiar that he’d bring his husband along as well. “Ten, nice to see you again!” 

Ten rings out a smile to you as he leans down to give you a hug, before taking a seat at your table. The younger man who follows behind the two of them is a little awkward in stance, but he doesn’t fail to give you a warm, dashing smile, a calming grin stretched out on his face.

“I’m Jaemin,” he introduces himself, reaching his hand out for a handshake. “You must be (Y/N) (Y/L/N) - Jaehyun and Johnny talk about you a lot.” 

“Is that so?” you let out a laugh, quirking your eyebrows at Johnny who gives you a deadpan look, causing you to giggle. “But it’s very nice to finally meet you, Jaemin!”

The five of you drown the droning sound of classical music through small-chatter, catching up with each other from the past few weeks. Jaemin is a kind boy - charming, but level-headed and mature, he seemed wise beyond his years, and his manners were prim and proper. For a fleeting moment, you had wondered where he had gotten his personality from, seeing as Johnny is a loud, silly man while Jaehyun was more enigmatically rambunctious, but you push the thought out of your head. You think about what he had said when introducing himself to you - Jaehyun talked about you to him?

“So, when is the wedding, Irene?” Ten asks as he sinks the teeth of his fork into a red velvet cheesecake, sliding the fragment it into his mouth before setting his fork back down on the plate. 

“You’ll find out through the invitation cards,” Irene gives him a kilowatt smile, her eyes softening at the mention of the future event. “But it will be next Spring - we have yet to decide where the venue shall be, but when we do, like I said before, you’ll find out through the invitation cards.” 

“Oh, to be married,” Johnny cooed teasingly, as if he weren’t sitting next to his husband. “What a wonderful thing to imagine - finally becoming one with the love of your life during a beautiful ceremony. One can only dream.”

“Johnny Suh,” Ten deadpans, causing you and Irene to let out giggles. “I will not hesitate to shove this entire cake down your mouth, if that’s what you’re trying to hint at.” 

Johnny lets out a loud laughing, bringing his husband close for a hug as the shorter man, pouting, takes another bite out of his cheesecake. “I’m just joking,” Johnny says. “Being married to you is like a dream for me every single day.”

You watch the couple with admiration as they slowly begin to begin to chatter into their own world, gentle smiles and soft gazes exchanged between them; you’ve grown used to seeing the people around you amorous with their partners, but you still cannot deny the feeling of envy that creeps up in your stomach every time you were faced with a happy couple. It’s not that you want them to break up, because you would never wish for a beautiful pairing to split, no matter who they are, but it’s because you’ve still yet to find the one who could bring you into your own little world. You tear your gaze away from them to let them have their own privacy, bringing your attention to your fingers decorated with rings that range from Daniel Villegas to Swarovski,  but an emptiness pools in your heart when you realize none of them truly holds a significant meaning to you.

For a fleeting moment, Jaehyun’s face flashes in your mind, but you push it out of your thoughts as quickly as it had arrived. 

You quickly come to when you hear the dull tapping of a mic blare throughout the grand hall, a hush falling over the attendees as they redirect their attention towards the front of the venue, towards the mini platform that had housed the mini orchestra. Two men stand atop the platform, each clad in a dark grey suits by Johnston; you squint your eyes just slightly in order to make out their faces against the harsh spotlight that had shone onto them. One man seemed familiar, his hair greying and thinning, wrinkles of age outstretching the skin of his face, and you identify him as Mr. Jung, whom you met at the politician’s event last week. You are quizzical as to why they are here, wondering if this was a gala hosted by the Jung family. As you wondered, your eyes turn to the man beside him, only to find his eyes already on you. 

You gasped slightly when you see Jung Jaehyun, the ash blonde tone of his hair long gone and replaced with jet black locks, slicked away from his forehead and styled much like the first time you had seen him - he stands tall, as he always does, hands firm at his side and facial features juxtaposing each other as if he were modern art, but his eyes, the eyes that you’ve grown used to seeing desire, confidence, and adoration, are instead filled with nothing but alarm. He stares at you with widened eyes, his jaw visibly tightening as he seems to stop breathing for a fleeting moment, and at his unusual gait, a sense of doom rises in your stomach. 

“I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight,” Mr. Jung’s gruff voice blares through the speakers while he holds the microphone close to his mouth. “Today is a very, very special night for Jung & Associates; a very special night for my beloved son, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun finally tears his eyes from yours to look at his father, flashes the audience a kilowatt smile, as if he hadn’t looked at you with such alarm just mere seconds ago. 

“As we all know, my time as CEO of Jung & Associates has already come to an end, and I figured, with one last bang, why don’t I announce my son’s rise to the chair with a celebration?” he turns towards Jaehyun, whose lips are pressed tightly in a line. “I know that he’ll prove to be an amazing chief executive; he’s responsible, articulate, and intelligent - he is the son I have always dreamt of, and he is everything Jung & Associates has aimed for in our empire.”

You see Johnny‘s jaw clench from beside you against the dim lighting, and on the other side of the table, you see Jaemin gulp, and you couldn’t help but frown at how much pain their own father’s words must have caused the both of them. You reach out in an attempt to squeeze Johnny’s arm as a sense of comfort, as he is much closer to you physically, but a voice that causes your nerves to run wild inside of you blares through the speakers, causing you to pause mid-action and look back towards the platform. 

“Thank you, father,” Jaehyun says when the older man gives him the microphone, he toys with the wire before clearing his throat, looking back into the audience. “I’m very excited for the journey I’ll be taking with Jung & Associates; this has been my dream since I was a child, so I’m really happy to be here today.”

There is a pregnant pause in the air, and he takes a hitched breath. “As well for another announcement,” Jaehyun continues. “I’m very excited to announce a new era for Jung & Associates - we have merged with Kim & Park Law, an honour as we move into a bigger empire. Helping people is what both of our firm’s prioritize, so it only felt right.“

An applause breaks out in the crowd, and politely, you clap too, although you are unsure as to what was going on. You wondered how your design was going to be shown, when it will be revealed; you should have inquired your manager before arriving - this doesn’t seem like the correct environment for a revealing.

“That being said, I have one last announcement. I’m sure all of you are wondering just why I’m talking about the future of the merge between Jung & Associates Kim & Park Law, when we’ve merged with plenty other companies in the past. Well, it’s due to the fact that the worries of the future does not only pertain to the company, but to my personal life as well,” he pauses, and he looks around the room for a fleeting moment, but when his eyes land on yours, it seems as if the moment had lasted for years. A woman, a beautiful woman of tall stature with glowing blonde hair and skin kissed slightly by the sun walks up to the platform to stand next to Jaehyun, and adorned on her form is your design, with its lavender fabric that shines against the spotlight as if it were painted onto her skin, whose flowers decals swept against the floor in youthful, yet graceful, wonder. When Jaehyun finally tears his gaze from yours to look at her, she gives him a smile filled with love, and Jaehyun, with his dimples carved deep into the corners of his mouth, smiles back. 

“Chaeyoung Park, the beautiful daughter of one of the co-founder of Kim & Park Law, is to be my wife. Tonight, I am announcing our engagement.”

The doom that had been brewing in your stomach for the past few days had penetrated into your heart when the words absorb into your eardrums; the sinking feeling inside of you and the twisting pain that had erupted in your chest drowned out the applause and cheers of duress that had taken over the sound waves of the hall, your breath hitching in your throat as you wish only for the ground to swallow you whole. Johnny and Ten turn towards you, their eyes widened in horror as they open their mouths frantically, but you are unable to hear what they are saying. Irene, beside you, grabs your hand once more and rests her other one atop the back of your hand, and when you turn towards her, when you meet her heartbroken, pitiful gaze, when you realize that you and Jung Jaehyun, the man who had not only taken your opportunity of glory by taking away the attention from your first ever design, had also decided to tear your heart and soul apart in the most painful fashion.

The last thing you had remembered before your eyesight became a blur was forcefully standing up, the screeching of the legs of your chair hushed by the audience’s celebration, and walking out of the hall with Irene running after you as you will yourself to not let the tears spill past your waterline.

You come to when the moonlight that casts down into your dark bedroom causes your interior to glow ethereally; perhaps, if it were your usual day, you would stop to admire the setting - but even the most extravagant view is dust to you now as you wreak broken sobs of dismal into Irene’s comforting arms. 

“He’s not worth your tears, (Y/N),” Irene comforts you, motherly hand caressing your hair as she lets you sob. She hums soothingly as she does so, your body trembling in ache. “He’s just another ignorant, immature boy. He’ll bring the end of this stupid law firm while you’ll continue to reign with Decoré.”

“It hurts so much, Irene,” you sob into the fabric of her Elie Saab garment, guilty that you’re staining the silk with your heartbroken tears. “My heart hurts so much, he told me he loved me just last night and I told him I loved him back. I should have listened to you, how could I have trusted him? How could I be so thoughtless?”

“Shh,” Irene’s voice is soothing as she pushes you back to look at your face. “I will say, I did warn you. However, you can’t control your curiosity nor who you love, (Y/N). And yes, although you fell in love with a man of whom I want to do nothing else to but murder, you were not being thoughtless. You just did what you thought was right.”

“Nothing I did was right,” you wipe the tears that streamed down your face. “If I did what was right, then I would have never caught sight of him that first night, then I would have never met Johnny, then I would have never kept running into him in different countries, and I would have never fallen in love with him.”

She tucks a hair behind your ear before wiping your tears with her thumb, smearing some of your mascara and eyeliner underneath your red, swollen eyes. She smiles with a bittersweetness. “Everything happens for a reason, (Y/N).”

You change out of your dress, hem stained by grass and dirt marks from walking carelessly through the front garden towards the entrance when you were leaving the gala, and Irene stays outside your door as she informs Seokjin that she’ll be staying over at your home. She doesn’t tell her fiancé what had happened, deciding to keep it a secret between the two of you, and Johnny and Ten. You let out a sigh as you remember the two men’s shocked faces when they had turned to you, anger and denial clear in their faces; were you and Jaehyun not as discreet as you had thought? Your stomach twisted in pain when you think of more options; had Jaehyun lied to you about keeping it a secret?

“Irene?” your voice is meek when you reach out to her arm as the two of you lay beside each other in your plush bed hours after your sobbing had calmed down. She hums, flipping her sleeping mask away from her eyes as she looks at you. “How did you know about Jaehyun and I?” 

She waits for a few seconds, as if pondering on what to say. “The tension between the two of you was claustrophobic,” she says after a few seconds. “You also both held these... certain gazes towards each other. Gazes that I gave Seokjin when I pined for him, and gazes that I still give him now.” 

Your stomach twists once more as tears spring against your waterline. Perhaps asking wasn’t the correct decision. You sniff, in an attempt to calm your emotions. “Oh.”

“It’ll be okay, (Y/N),” Irene sighs, her hand on top of yours in an effort to comfort you, acknowledging your shaking voice. “It will be hard, but you can find a better man. A better man than Jaehyun had ever been.”

“Of course.” you whisper. “Goodnight, Irene.”

“Goodnight.”

Later that night, when Irene’s soft snoring emits from her form beside you, you reach for your phone that slept against your bedside table. When you rouse it awake, a dull pain seeps into your heart at the sight of the notifications that lined your screen; all of them were from Jaehyun. A tear escapes your eyes as you unlock your device, willing yourself to not read the countless messages he had sent you, almost enraged at his ignorance for even thinking of doing such a thing - was it his goal to mock you, to taunt you of how your body was under control of his lips? 

You think back on his actions towards you for the past year you’ve been aware of his existence, filled with aching eyes and desired touches, small exchanges of soft smiles and slight smirks. Had that all just been an act, for him? Had he looked at you with lust, only to go back home and give his girlfriend, his fiancée, the same ones - only this time, with authentic emotions? Had he spent the last year making it seem as if he were the one pining after you, when in reality, you were the one that had those feelings? Had he doused the three words he said on your last affair in a brew of lies before letting them absorb into your eardrums? Had wickedness glowed in his heart when you uttered the same three words back? 

Because, as you continue upon thinking more about the situation, late that night, you realize that his fiancée was not the one that hurt you - she probably had no clue about all of this, just as you had been. 

You were the other woman.

Your heart clenches in your chest sending a wreck of pain through your nerves, biting your lip to muffle back a broken sob as thoughts fly into your mind at a pace you had never encountered before.

Jung Jaehyun knew you; he knew all your secrets when you uttered them in his ear when you would lay next to him in bed, he knew of your quirks that would slip out when trying to keep your relations discreet in the public eye, he knew of the facade that you would put up after stepping past the gates of your house, he knew what your body liked and craved and how to get you to slip over the edge when he would fuck you, he knew of your goals, he knew of your wishes, he knew of your desire for love and marriage - but you knew nothing about Jung Jaehyun.

You swallow once in an attempt to calm the increasing regret that begins to fill your stomach before tapping your screen one final time that night, the block button that sits underneath his contact emitting a light blue before his number finally disappears from your device, deleting your text conversations, erasing every lingering retention of Jung Jaehyun.

-----

The plain taste of water fills your mouth and you think to yourself, perhaps you should have ordered a much more tasteful drink to accompany the savoury meal in front of you, of different breads, seasonings and pastas. Your shoulders are straight as you sit in the chair of crushed velvet, corset at a comfortable tightness as you keep a watchful gaze on the people around you. A sigh escapes your mouth when you spot a lovely couple seated a few seats away from you, hands outstretched and on top of each other against the wooden table, love full in their eyes as they gazed at each other in admiration.  

Perhaps coming here was the wrong idea. 

Three years ago, you were brought to the chair of Decoré after the sudden passing of your mother, a tragic event that graced headlines much to your grief in utter remembrance - the year of her death was an ache to you, every person you turned to would bring it up, which would only spark tears in your eyes and pain in your chest. Becoming used to the chair was not an easy task at all either, having to give up the modelling career that you had forged from a young age in order to focus fully on the company’s strings - and you didn’t have your mother to help you either. As the years went by, you formed into a different woman; long gone was the girl who put a mask in front of the public in order to keep her reputation spotless, long gone was the girl who calculated her movements in order to keep an outrage from sparking - however, sometimes, when all the lights in your lonesome penthouse are turned off and all you can hear is the distant buzz of the streets below, you would silently cry to yourself, wishing like a child that everything hadn’t changed so drastically. 

You and Irene are still in contact, as close as ever, and you had the will to have invited you on your trip - but due to her growing family and growing pregnant belly, she was most likely unable to accompany you on your planned rendezvous’ these recent days; Johnny, ever the positive man, also continued to contact you as well, albeit sparsely - but the incident that had happened caused a strain to form on your friendship - he treated you like a ticking time bomb, careful with his words in order to not let a memory spring in your mind. Last you heard, he had adopted two little twin girls with his husband. You, on the other hand, admittedly have had your nights of pleasure, hooking up with random men dressed in fancy custom suits that you’d meet at random lounges and events, but they were never serious. They would always leave right after your affair ends. Your ring finger bears no band, and you’re unsure if it ever will.

Presently, you sit at a lounge, someplace in Milan, celebrating the opening of a new boutique in your favoured city, lonesome. In due fairness, you were planning to ask your secretaries and closest employees to accompany you, but after the hard work they had put into opening the new branch in a foreign country, you opted to give them the rest of the day off instead. As crowds of people chatted amongst themselves in duress, all you can do is sip hesitantly at your water and pick at your food, regretting the idea of coming here alone. It seems as the universe is mocking you, as well, decorations of hearts and and cupids littered against the walls of the restaurant, as today is Valentine’s day - everyone around you is on a date, perhaps their first or one of many, and you are sitting there, alone, completely out of place. 

Yes, coming here was definitely the wrong idea.

Yet, you couldn’t bear to let the food you had ordered and had people put their backbone into making to go to waste, so instead of standing up to retrieve your tweed coat hung on the backrest of your chair, you continue to eat quietly, by yourself, underneath the guise of being distracted by your phone screen. As you ponder about the what-ifs, thinking about having ordering room service from the comfort of your hotel room instead, a waitress props a tall, skinny glass of a familiar liquid in front of you. 

“Domaine de la romanée-cont, Ms. (Y/L/N),” she greets you with a gracious smile, bowing her head slightly. “From the gentleman at the bar.”

You furrow your eyebrows together in bewilderment at the glass before thanking the waitress and sending her on her way. You study the flute intently, gazing at it’s red liquid that seemed to glow against the yellow lighting of the restaurant, before wrapping your fingers around it to take it towards your lips. The bitter taste of domaine de la romanée-cont graces your taste buds when the liquid engulfs your mouth and you think to yourself, perhaps the theory of a maturing palate is true, you do not favour the taste of the wine that you would eagerly look for at events when you were younger and in your old household - but it also brings another memory to you, a distant recalling, eyes that you have not looked into for the past few years embedding into your brain when the taste hits your tongue. 

Jung Jaehyun is a distant name to you now, the taste of his name slipping off your tongue becoming a foreign feeling as each day passes, fingerprints he left on your skin slowly eroding away through time. Often, you’d see his face on the screen of your television, read his name on front pages of magazines that they’d display at those corner stores you’d idly pass by, or hear his name in hushed chatter from people around you engrossed in their own conversation - but as quickly as he had nearly ingrained himself into your life once more, you’d change the channel, or flip the page, or tune out of the conversation. Although no parts of you hold no bearing of the memoirs of Jung Jaehyun, sometimes, you’d find yourself laying awake at night, wishing for the memories that still lay in the cavities of your brain to come to life once again, to feel his fingerprints burn into your skin much like they had five years ago - but as a chief executive at the age of twenty-seven, all you can do is tell yourself to grow up, and force yourself to do paperwork instead of wishing for something that will never come true. 

So when you spot Jung Jaehyun sat at the dark mahogany bar after looking for the man who had paid for this drink, with his umber eyes boring into yours, you are unsure on how to act.

He is as beautiful as the first time you laid eyes on him, his facial features a stunning juxtaposition as the dim overhead lighting of the bar accentuates his sleek cheeks and soft jawline, his sharp lips and soft, brown eyes. His hair, remaining a jet-black, much like the first time that you had seen him, is brushed over his forehead messily. He wears a simple white button up shirt, the first two buttons undone, tucked into a pair of black trousers adorned with a belt. On his wrist, as he cradles a glass of champagne as he watches you, is a golden watch from Louis Vuitton, His mouth is pulled into a straight line, and in his eyes, hold observe, as if he were waiting for how you would react. Even now, when he approaches you and sits in the chair opposite from yours, his eyes still hold a deep meaning. 

Upon meeting his eye, it seems as if all the memories you have buried deep into your brain becomes uncovered, images flashing before your eyes in montages like an old film movie; his eyes gazing into yours with desire, fingers pressing into your skin as to leave a crater of himself on your form, lips ghosting the crook of your neck when he used to roll his hips into you - the act alone is enough to make you gasp from both shock and hurt, tears slightly beginning to tease your waterline, but you take note of the environment around you and decide that you shouldn’t act out. 

“Jung Jaehyun,” you finally speak, keeping your tone unwavering. “It’s been a while.”

“It has.” he speaks, setting the bottom of his glass against the white cloth. Jet black strands fall past his eyes and he brushes them back, before meeting his eyes with you again. “I hope you have been well, (Y/N).”

“I have.” you answer him, switching your gaze back and forth between his eyes - what was his goal in speaking to you like this; you do not hold an inkling of care for him as you once did, was his plan to taunt you of your old affairs? You decide not to thank him on his greeting, nor return it, and continue to speak venomously. “Why are you here?”

He seems taken aback from your blunt answers, stilling for only a fleeting moment before parting his lips again. “I’m here to oversee the Milan branch,” he answers you in a strain. “I was just enjoying a night out when I saw you, and I wanted to greet you again.”

“Alright.” you simply give him a simper, setting your fork down before you push the avoided glass of domaine de la romanée-cont towards him. He watched your action with puzzled eyes. “I don’t like the taste of this wine anymore; you should have just kept your money in your pocket.”

“Oh,” is all he could say. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t say anything, instead, you begin to pack up your belongings into your purse, quickly arranging the utensils of the finished meal in front of you to help the waitresses clean your table easier for when you leave. You avoid his gaze when you finally stand up, taking your tweed coat hanging off the backrest of your seat and sliding it on, brushing your hair out from being tucked into it. 

“Goodbye, Mr. Jung.” you tell him, still not attempting to hold his watchful eye as you turn on your heel and walked towards the exit, not wanting to hear any words slip past his lips. You are appalled, could a man really be so ignorant, to attempt to mock you in front of your face, even years later? Perhaps he still held himself in high regard from the past, and though a small part of you wreaks with hurt, slight tears springing to your eyes when the February air kisses your cheeks as you walk past the doors, anger still continues to move through your nerves. 

“(Y/N),” you hear his voice following after you as you walk through the cobblestone walkways, the calm waters of the Navigli canal that was located right at the exit juxtaposing the emotions that stir inside of you at the sound of his voice. “Please, I just want to talk.”

You continue to walk away from him, hearing his fast footsteps a few meters behind yours. “You had the chance to talk to me years ago before that night.” you simply say, pushing your hands into the pockets of your coat from the cold air. “I’m afraid you’ve lost your chance.”

“(Y/N),” he sighs, and you hear him begin to jog to your side, and once he comes into view, all you can do is bump past him in a fit of aggravation. “Please, listen to me. Just let me talk.”

“I don’t have time to talk. I run a company. Don’t you?” you say in a hard tone. You hear his footsteps come to a stop and you let out a relieved sigh at the thought - you just wanted to leave past him and never see him again, just as he had done to you all those years ago; his voice causes you to halt, just seconds later. 

“I do not.” his voice is a few meters away from you but the tone of his voice causes your step to falter, and you widen your eyes at the discovery. 

You furrow your eyebrows together before pivoting on his heel to face him, finding his form closer to your body than you had anticipated. “What do you mean?”

“Jung & Associates isn’t under my command anymore. I gave up the position to my youngest brother, Jaemin, who was more ready than I ever was,” he tells you, eyes dark, voice genuine, but the wall that has built before your heart causes your form to stay rigid. “Have you not seen the articles going around, (Y/N)? I did this nearly two years ago. I want no responsibility of the sort - father nearly kicked me out of the family for my choices, but I’m just Jung Jaehyun now.”

You weigh the options of believing him and avoiding his words for a few seconds, opting for the latter as you let out a scoff. The calm waters beside the two of your forms stays moving in slow waves. “Don’t expect me to believe your lies, Jaehyun.”

“I’m not lying.” he says. “I have never lied to you.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” you spit, and a sense of hurt flashes in his eyes - you want to slap him, how dare he feel hurt at your words when he’s caused you greater hurt than you’ve ever felt. “How can you expect me to believe you when everything we’ve ever done together was based on false words?”

“Don’t say that, (Y/N),” he says, reaching out towards you but you slap his hand away - retracting his arm as more pain pools into his pupils. You feel the tears finally begin to tease your waterline the moment you had touched him, letting out a soft cry. “What we had was real, and you know that.”

“No, it wasn’t.” you tell him, attempting to keep your tone unwavering. “Don’t you dare fucking lie to me again, Jung Jaehyun. I was the other woman, and you never had the audacity to tell me. You never had the audacity to at least give me the chance to end whatever... we were.”

“(Y/N).” he says, simply, but you only tear your eyes off of him, letting out a sigh of annoyance as you look at the calm waters of the canal beside you. 

”Please, just leave me be. Don’t you have a wife to take care of?”

“I don’t,” he tells you, and his words cause you to look at him again with puzzled eyes. He parts his lips again to speak. “Me and Chaeyoung were engaged under business terms - it was never real between us, I couldn’t bare marrying a woman I didn’t love, nor could she, so I ended the merge and our engagement, which cut my ties to the chair.”

You let out a breath at listening to him, eyes falling downcast to the ground, attempting to keep the tears from slipping down your cheeks, but you fail, the streaks hot against your face against the cool air. 

“Why would you do that?” you ask him in a hushed tone. 

He whispers back. “Life is a risk, isn’t it?”

Silence seduces the air between the two of you for a few seconds, the only sounds heard is the distant soundtrack of cars moving past the roads and the slight sloshing of the bed of water beside the two of you. His shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath, and then he parts his lips open. 

“The first time I saw you,” he says, taking a step towards you before bringing a hand up to wipe your tears from your face, his presence so close to you. “It was at your mother’s gala, that one spring. I was there due to my father’s orders to coax your mother into having us buy Decoré. I knew who you were, after researching the revenue of your company - but when I saw you... I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I came home that night, my father was angry that I couldn’t go through one task he had asked me to do - and he gave me a choice. Buy your company, or merge with another company by marriage.”

You keep quiet, letting his words pour into your ears as you listen intently, every syllable hard hitting to your chest as you feel your stomach begin to pool with trust.

“I remember I kept bumping into you in different cities,” he lets out a soft chuckle, juxtaposing the tears that are welling up in his eyes. “Bordeaux, Cebu... I remember butterflies going wild in my stomach when I saw you at the resort in Cebu, but my mind was set. I needed to talk to you, and so I ordered you your wine, and I finally was able to.”

You let out a shaky breath as you continue to listen to him, your mind swirling with thoughts but becoming silenced when he cradles your cheek in his palm.

“And that night in Milan,” he pauses, his hands cupping your cheeks now, an action burning into your skin much like the first few times he had done it long ago. “When I saw you walking down the runway with that wedding dress, walking towards me at the end of the runway… it all just made sense.”

You gasp lightly, widening your eyes at the realization of his words, and it is at your reaction that causes his tears to finally fall from his own eyes, staining his red cheeks with wet streaks. It is an action that causes you to recall the last time you had been entangled with him, wiping his tears away as the both of you whisper the three words that you’ve become so scared of uttering.

“Do you want to know the reason why I held such detest for Johnny, all those years ago?” he asks you, and you do not answer, continuing to look at him in bewilderment. “It was because I was jealous that he could live a life freely while I could not. It was because I was jealous that he could start his own career from what he favoured to do, and I had to take on the responsibilities of the family. It was because I envied the fact that he could marry whomever he wanted,” he paused, only for a brief moment, but it felt like millennia when all you could feel at that moment was your nerves exploding at his words. 

“And that I could not marry you.”

His lips are like home to you, warm against yours and sending a frenzy through your nerves, and you realize, perhaps you never really did forget the way his lips meshed against yours, and how it felt to feel his presence burn into your skin. Even as tears streamed down both of your cheeks as your lips mold into each other with both yearning and passion. You are unsure of how many moments you stand like that, still, hearing the water move beside the both of you quietly, the stars above you twinkling in their delight much like the lamp posts that litter the street, lips dancing against each other. Your hands are tangled in his hair, each strand brushing against your fingers and palms in a familiar dance, as his hands cup against your mouth - and you realize why you have grown to dislike the taste of domaine de la romanée-cont, the wine you use to favour - it’s because you have found your favourite taste in Jaehyun’s lips.

You find your hands having a mind of their own when you pull him by the collar of his coat, bringing him closer to you, and within seconds you are hastily leading him through the walkways towards your hotel. Your lips are still molded together at the front of the hotel, at the entrance of the lobby, the warm yellow lights that emit from the chandeliers inside spilling out to your forms. Perhaps, years ago, you would never do such a brash act in public - but at present, you could care less for the possible paparazzi loitering around the area, you could care less of the stares that the both of you attract when you drag him through the lobby towards the elevator shafts, stepping in, never once moving away from each other. When you pull away with panting breaths, he presses his forehead to yours, his eyes closed as his tears calm. His hands are still placed on your waist, unwilling to let go, and the both of you relish in each other’s presence for a moment, letting silence overtake you; slowly letting the other settle back into their life, dwelling themselves in the space that they had used to take. 

“I want you,” he whispers, the ghost of his breath brushing against your nose as you let your hands fall from the strands of his hair and onto his cheeks. One of his hands make it on top of yours, warm against your skin. “I want you so fucking bad.”

“You have me now,” you whisper, hands trailing from his cheeks towards the hardening member underneath the fabric of his trousers. “So please ruin me.” 

Both of your bodies deem impatient when the bell sounds with a ding!, announcing that the two of you had arrived to the floor of your penthouse - you are only thankful that the immediate first step from exiting the elevator is already your lounge room, discarding your coat onto the ground as you swiftly push Jaehyun further into your penthouse. His hands have transitioned from gentle touches to rougher grips, arms wrapped around your waist now, letting you lead the way as his slick tongue slips past yours. He moans into the kiss as you push him down towards the suede black couch that decorates your lounge; your knees are on both sides of him, straddling him, never once breaking your kiss. You run your fingers through his hair as he leans back against the backrest of the couch, fingers tracing down your clothed spine and then cupping your ass through the fabric of your noir Dior dress. You pull away from his lips slightly to let out a moan that had been building up since you had last seen him - you hadn’t realized how much your body ached for his touch.

“So eager...” he whispers as you pant out, his lips attaching onto your neck, reminding your skin of what his tongue had felt like. He slowly moves his hands underneath your dress, rolling the tight fabric up over your bottom, your bare-skin now exposed to the cool temperature of your penthouse. His hands are warm against your flesh before he raises his hand to smack your pad of skin lightly, the contact causing a sound to ripple through the air as you let out a soft gasp. You feel him smirk against your skin. “You like that, darling?”

The nickname that slipped past his tongue causes your core to throb, having not heard those words from him in so long - it’s laughable really, how you were still underneath Jung Jaehyun’s five years later, even after you swore never to pine for him again. Your cheeks heat up as he continues to smack your ass, leaning back now to watch your facial expressions, a smug smirk on his face. “Look at you. You like being spanked, darling?” he taunts you, and your core throbs once more. 

You bite down on your lip to suppress a moan as you nod your head, his hits slowly begin to turn harder, pain burning into your skin - but you love it all; Jaehyun puts his mark onto you again, this time, they’ll never fade away. He spanks you sharply, and you let a yelp emit from your lips. “That’s it,” he grins when he hears your whine, his black hair brushing past his eyes. “Let it out, darling. Make the entire hotel know what I’m doing to you.”

You find yourself rocking your hips slowly after every spank, rutting your wet panties against the swelling hardness in Jaehyun’s trousers. You hadn’t realized what you had been doing until he lets out a low groan, craning his neck backwards at the sensation of your clothed heats grinding into each other. He grips his fingers into the flesh of your ass as you continue. 

“You’re so fucking hard already,” you whisper, the outline of his cock against your core causing shudders to rake through your nerves. He bites down on his lip as his eyes flutter shut, causing you to smirk; you rut your hips faster. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone sensitive, Jaehyun. It would be such a bummer if you cum so early in our affair.” 

He seems to snap back into reality at your sentence, eyes opening and craning his neck straight to look towards you, umber eyes turning a shade dark before one of his hands find their way against your clothed heat. “You’ve gotten brave,” he says in a hushed tone. “Just because I haven’t fucked you in a while doesn’t mean you can take control. That’s not how it works, darling.”

“I can take control over you whenever I wa-“ you start, but your sentence is cut short at the feeling of Jaehyun pushing your thin panties to the side before harshly pressing his long fingers into you, causing you to lean forward at the sensation that you have yearned for so long. In the corner of your eye, you see him smirk in arrogance, but you cannot say anything - not when he’s already began to fuck his finger into you. “Fuck, Jaehyun!”

“Finish your sentence.” he whispers calmly, as if his digits weren’t doing something so obscene. “You know how much I hate it when people don’t finish their sentences. You can take control of me? Is that what you were gonna say?”

“J-Jaehyun!” you mewl, legs buckling as you lose your balance on top of him, your hips having a mind of their own as you begin to rock your hips against his fingers. He moves you swiftly, so that your back is against his chest, legs spread with the help of his own, his fingers pushing in and out of you so deliciously. 

“Answer my fucking question, slut.” he says, baritone voice deep in your ear. 

The name causes you to gasp, sinful words and the sensation of his long, thick digits spreading you apart after so long already having you see stars in your eyes. “J-Jaehyun,” you whimper, voice wavering with every pump he fucks into you. “I was w-wrong. Y-You have control over me. I’m yours.”

You feel him smile against your ear. “Good.” he praises you, the pads of his fingers brushing against your sweet spot that causes your toes to curl and for you to let out a sweet mewl. “Now tell me how good of a whore you are and if I should let you cum or not. Did you let other people fuck your cunt while I was gone?”

You bite down on your lip as his digits pick up the pace, moving in and out of your hole with sopping sounds; the room is filled with a sinful soundtrack of Jaehyun’s dirty words, your breathy whimpers, and the sound of his palm slapping against your cunt. He brushes past your spot again, which causes you to buck your hips, letting out a louder mewl. He pushes your waist down with his free hand, wrapping his legs around yours to bring them wider, fully having you encompassed in his body. His fingers do not stop though, they ram against your sweet spot repeatedly, earning high-pitched moans to emit from your throat; all that you are able to say, is his name. “Don’t you fucking listen?” he growls into your ear, digits ruthless as they continue to fuck into you, stretching your walls out the way you like. “Tell me. Did other people fuck your cunt while I was gone?”

You bite onto your lip and weigh your options, whether you should tell him the truth, or not. Throughout the past five years of not wanting to face Jaehyun, you have accumulated quite a list of men that you had hooked up with for the enjoyment of one single night - many of them left you unsatisfied, but anything was better than you being left to your own devices. Tears begin to spring your eyes at the doubled speed Jaehyun was going now - you had forgotten how ruthless he is in bed, just the way you like it. 

“Yes.” you decide to tell him the truth, although, you come to regret it when Jaehyun pulls his wet fingers out of you and slaps your cunt, your sensitive clit hit with dull thud of pain before he plunges his fingers deep into you again.

“Dirty whore,” he spits, but you’re unable to answer at the amount of pleasure overtaking your core. “Who? Who fucked you while I was gone? Tell me all of them or else you won’t get to cum.”

You tighten your walls around his fingers when he brushes past your spot for the nth time but he pulls his fingers out of you before you are able to be pushed to the edge, the built up high slowly fading just slightly before he plunges them back in again, a mewl emitting from your lips when realizing that your orgasm has to be built once again. “Jaehyun!” you whine, bucking your hips in aggravation against his ruthless hand, but he tightens his grip on you. 

“I fucking said, tell me who fucked you,” he says through grit teeth. “Or else you won’t be able to cum at all.”

“N-Nakamoto Yuta,” you whisper. Your walls spasm around his fingers again, when he brushes the pads of his digits against your spot. You let out a moan as the pleasure rakes through your body, but you continue to power through, aching for your orgasm to rip through your limbs. “Kim Taehyung, L-Lee Minhyuk,” his fingers seem to bear no ending as they continue to fuck in and out of you while you recite each name that you are able to recall under the circumstance, but all that comes to and end when you utter the last name. “Kim Doyoung.”

He pulls his fingers out of you and hastily grabs your hair, forming it into a makeshift ponytail as he pulls your head closer to him. His grip on your scalp is tight and you let out a cry of pain as well as annoyance at your ruined orgasm - yet, you wanted more. He slowly moves you to the side, standing up from the couch and setting his feet in front of you, towering over your form, and you feel your heart sink in both fear and excitement. 

“Kim Doyoung?” he chuckles lowly, slightly tugging on your hair harshly before redirecting your gaze to his belt, and your breath hitches in your throat at the realization of what he wants you to do. “So tell me, darling. Did he fuck you until you couldn’t walk, just like you wanted?”

Out of all the men that you had found yourself in bed with, often random strangers who believed it would be a stepping stone towards achieving your empire by your side, Kim Doyoung was one that you were not expecting. After running into him in a jazz lounge in New York City; the both of you caught up on what the other had missed, apologized for not staying in contact - and as each glass of liquor passed by the both of you in blurs, you quickly come to when both of your forms were barely able to make it to his bed, having bent you over the kitchen counter of his penthouse as he drilled into you from behind. 

Just like Jaehyun, Doyoung was ruthless - he left marks on your skin that you had to cover for almost a week before you were certain they weren’t to be seen by the media, and for the entire day after the ordeal, you had deemed too sore to walk, having to call into your headquarters to inform them that you would be working from home that day. However, unlike Jaehyun, you held no connection with Doyoung - his gaze, though filled with lust and desire, held no longing and yearning for who you really are; his touch, though pleasurable and able to bring you to the edge, did not light fires against your skin. 

As you pull Jaehyun’s pants down, his throbbing cock slapping against his stomach, the memories of that night are pushed out of your mind at the expense of your desire. You quickly wrap your hands around his shaft, thick and large - your core twitching at the thought of his cock stretching you out again. You part your lips before you swirl your tongue on his pink tip, the sensation of your slick tongue slathering around him letting a low groan emit from his throat. “Shit, baby,” he groans, relaxing his grip on your hair, pushing stray strands away from your face to get a better view. 

“Fuck, I missed your pretty little mouth so much.”

You had forgotten how big he was when you attempt to take all of him into your throat, a gagging sound reverberating off the walls of your penthouse, which causes him to groan louder. “Shit,” he hisses, and he begins to rock his hips slowly. “Yeah, that’s right, choke on my cock like the dirty little whore you are.”

His throbbing tip hits the back of your throat in repeated beats, tears springing into your eyes as your gagging causes more saliva to flow out your mouth. He slowly begins to thrust faster, craning his head back at how good your throat feels around him; the grip he held in your hair tightens once again, keeping your head in place as he fucks your mouth. “Mmm, shit,” he grunts. “So fucking good. Such a whore, letting me fuck your throat, hm? Fuck! I missed you so fucking much.”

Obscenities fall from his lips as he continued to rut into your mouth, lewd noises of saliva against flesh emitting throughout the room; tears stained with mascara line down your face but you keep your hands trained on his hips as support - you’re almost sure that your sopping heat has begun to stain the fabric of the couch you sat atop. He thrusts once more, slowly this time, a guttural grunt sounding from his chest as he stuff your mouth - the tip of your nose tickles the base of his cock, and you screw your eyes shut to combat your gagging reflex, before he pulls out, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. 

“Please fuck me,” you beg him, leaning back into the couch as you desperately spread your legs apart, inviting him to your wet pussy. You pout at him through teary eyes, not bothering to wipe the saliva that lines your mouth, not bothered at the saliva that had stained your expensive dress, wanting nothing more than to be fucked already. “Please fuck me, I need you so bad. Please, Jaehyun.”

“Such an eager whore,” he chuckles as he moves in closer, positioning his cock against your pussy before he reaches to the top of your dress. He uncovers your chest roughly, you’re almost sure you can hear the slight ripping of fabric when he does, but you don’t care - not when his cock slides between your folds like that, barely attempting to plunge in. “I thought you were busy running a business? Looks like you have plenty of time to fuck.”

“Jaehyun, please...” you whine each time his tip passes by your entrance, but he continues to slather your lingering saliva and his pre-cum all over your pussy. “Please just fuck me, Jaehyun. Please.”

He smirks in arrogance before he drives into you with no warning, knocking the air out of you as you barely have time to readjust to his size before he begins to slam into you repeatedly, causing your voice ripping through the air as you scream his name repeatedly. “Jaehyun! Jaehyun!”

“You’ve become such a slut while I was gone, darling,” he grunts as he grabs onto your legs for balance as he stretches out your cunt, spreading your legs further. You are certain your body will never forget this sensation now, just as delicious as the first time he had done it, your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. “Did you forget who your cunt belongs to?”

You are unable to form a sentence as each push into you just continues to knock the air out of your lungs, mewling in pleasure at his cock sliding against your slick walls. His hands gripped at your waist roughly, watching you bounce underneath him in your glory; your hair splayed around your face as if handpicked like fresh daisies. You feel your orgasm nearing, but Jaehyun seems to have no qualms for stopping, continuing to pull out of you entirely before snapping back in even as he feels your walls quivering. “Cumming already?” he growls, voice strained as he rocks his core wildly. “What a fucking slut.”

Gripping at the sheets is all you could do in that moment to keep your sense of self occupied, your orgasm finally ripping through your body, arching your back as his name emits through the air that you’re sure the hotel’s inhabitants would hear from the first floor. “Jaehyun, I’m cumming! I’m fucking cumming!”

He doesn’t stop though, if anything, his hips move faster and rougher against yours, the only sound accentuating your screaming are his hips slapping against your cunt - even as you come down from your orgasm, your body numb as you settle, he continues to fuck into you, face contorted into pleasure. Your legs tremble with each time he brushes against your spot, hips bucking wildly each rut he pushes into you. “Fuck, you’re still so, so, fucking tight,” he grunts, voice deep and filled with need. “I missed you so fucking much. Are you on the pill, babyl?”

“No,” you moan into his ear when he pushes into you deep and rough. “I don’t care. I want your cum inside me, please. I want it so bad.”

He groans at your words, his hips beginning to roll faster, holding you in his arms and burying your face in your neck as he does. “F-Fuck,” the vibrations of his voice tickles the skin of your neck. “You want my cum, baby? You want me to fuck a baby into you? Hm? Is that what you want? Get you pregnant to prove to you who your cunt really belongs to?”

“Yes!” you practically beg, hungering for your second orgasm. At this point, you are unable to even comprehend what slips past your mouth, your voice a montage of lewd noises and gibberish as his hips snap against you. Your sight has darkened, all your senses have gone numb, all you are able to focus on is his cock driving further and further into you over and over again, and his voice that seemed miles away even while he whispers the most sinful things into your ear. 

“Mmm, fuck! I’m gonna c-cum, baby, fuck!” he groans loudly, reverberating off the marble walls as he leans back; his hips begin to stutter against yours, feeling him twitch inside you as he fills you up, moans of your name and other crude words slipping past his tongue. You let out breathy pants as he slowly pulls out of you, his cock coming out of your cunt as his cum follows soon after, the fluid warm against your abused skin - he takes his long fingers and swipes up some of the drip before plunging his fingers deep into your cunt again, causing another moan to rip through your throat.

“Oh my fucking god, Jaehyun,” you squeal, reaching down to grab his arm to keep his fingers from pounding into you again, but the overriding sensation has already taken over you nerves, your pleads of mercy turning into moans of pleasure. Your toes curl as the lewd sounds of his fingers pumping his cum back into you reaches your ears. 

“Take it,” he grunts, watching your red face, hot with gratifaction. “Take all my cum, baby. So, so pretty carrying my baby. You’ll be glowing, so fucking precious and beautiful. And everyone will know that I’m the one who got you like that, yeah? Right, baby?” 

“Y-Yes, Jaehyun,” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel your third orgasm of the night approaching, his fingers relentless against your cunt, making sure none of him leaks out. He brushes past your spot one last time, sensitive and numb, before you throw your head back into the cushions of your couch, final orgasm ripping through your nerves, unable to do anything else but moan quietly at both the plain and pleasure. “O-Oh my god.”

When your orgasm finally settles, he slowly pulls his fingers out of you, grinning from ear to ear as his eyes progress from the darkest you have ever seen them back to their normal, soft umber tone, leaning up to kiss you softly. You have tears in your eyes from what your body endured, and you’re far too sore to move your limbs, but you kiss back, relishing in the feeling that you have missed for so long - he picks you up from the couch, your legs hanging in the air as he holds you close as he successfully finds your bedroom. He lays you down on the plush mattress and reaches to the bedside table where a box of tissues laid, wiping your body down, his actions mellow and calm, as he utters sweet nothings to you. “You’re so, so beautiful. You’re so good to me. You’re my entire world.” 

When he finally finishes cleaning the both of you up, he wastes no time in getting into the other side of the bed, holding you close against him. Your breathing had finally calmed, your chest rising and falling in tranquil beats. You lay your cheek against his chest, relishing in the still environment that occupied the space around you. 

“Jaehyun,” you utter, after a few moments of silence. “You won’t leave, this time, right?”

“Never,” Jaehyun assures you, his hand running through your hair. “I have never left in the first place.” 

A soft smile makes its way onto your lips as you close your eyes, delighting in the thudding beat of his heart in his chest. His fingers continue to play with the strands of your hair, his breathing calming to your ears, lulling you as if it were a lullaby.

“Please talk to me,” you whisper, just a few seconds before sleep overtakes you. “Tell me about yourself. I want to hear your voice.”

He takes a few moments of pause, before you hear him breathe in. “My name is Jung Jaehyun,” he starts. “I am twenty-seven years old, I am the son of Jaejin and Shinae Jung, I have three brothers, my favourite colour is white, I love spring, I like to sing,” he pauses again, and you feel him press a tender kiss against the hair on the crown of your head.

“And I am in love with you.”

-----

The rising sun is warm against your face as you gaze at the gradient sky above you, hues of purples turning into deep oranges before coming together into a light blue. The clouds move laggardly against the beautiful sky; in the distance, you can hear the ocean waves crashing against the shores of the Amalfi coast, the scent of salt-water calming to your nerves as you take in a deep breath. The sky drenches you in an orange hue as you wrap your satin chiffon robe around you tighter, the slight breeze that blows against your form causing the foliage decorated on your balcony to dance in groups. You hear the sound of the door that separates your balcony landing from your hotel room, and a smile teases your lips when you feel strong arms wrap around you from behind.

“You’re up early,” his breath his warm against you ear as he holds you tightly, eyes gazing at the view alongside you. “What are you doing out here?” 

“Just enjoying the view.” you reply, resting your head against his as he slowly begins to sway you back and forth. Your hands snake around his arms wrapped around your waist, his fingers ghosting over the wedding ring wrapped around your finger. “Are the kids still asleep?”

“Yes,” he whispers, his arms secured around your form. He chuckles lightly against your ear. “The two of them were snoring before I walked out here. It was adorable, actually.”

“How cute,” you coo, smiling fondly. “Maybe we should take them to the beach today! It’s been a long time since I’ve swam in the ocean.”

“We should; for now though...” he answers, voice turning low. “The kids won’t be up until a few hours.”

“Oh shush, you pervert,” a giggle passes your lips as you lightly hit his arm, which only causes him to chucke once more before tightening his hold on you slightly. “Let’s just enjoy this beautiful view for now.”

“This view is nothing compared to you.” he teases you, amusement clear in his voice as you feel his smile against your ear. 

“Goodness, Jung Jaehyun,” you tsk. “You’ve gotten so corny.” 

To wake up every day to the sight of Jung Jaehyun’s face is something that you would have only thought of as a dream years ago; to feel his hands wrapped around you in safety as sunlight pours in every single morning is a sensation you would have never thought to have. Gone were the early mornings of his absence, acknowledgements and memoirs only left behind with a crude or romantic note, traded with the blessing that adorned both of your ring fingers. 

The wedding was held at a small, humble chapel, held only a month after the both of you had found each other again. Guests of those who are important to the both of you attended with their valour and blessings - Irene, at first, was shocked with what had turned out, but after conversing with your now-husband and realizing that all that she had heard was nothing but false words, only tears of happiness lined her eyes when she saw you walk down the aisle. Johnny and Ten were there as well, joy clear in their demeanours as they congratulated the both of you - you had also discovered that both Johnny and Jaehyun had mended their brotherly relationship, laughs and kind gestures traded between them at the following reception. You had wished for your mother to be there as well, perhaps to show her that you really were able to find love that isn’t fake, as she had believed, or perhaps to see her bear tears for your happiness. 

And although your wedding was rushed and deftly planned, a few quirks showing up throughout the ceremony and reception, you couldn’t ask for anything more. Especially the moment when you finally sealed your love with a kiss at the front of the altar, the sensation enough to drown the sounds of your guest’s cheering in front of you. 

And as the years passed, you only found yourself falling more and more for Jaehyun, the same excitement gracing your nerves every day you were to hold his gaze, to point a smile at him, and to press your lips against his. Even now, after becoming parents to two of the most beautiful children, another one on the way; even now, when the slightest of crow’s feet line the sides of your eyes, and the first inklings of gray hair are beginning to grow from his scalp; even now, when you’re so used to waking up to his calm face in the early mornings - you still find yourself falling ever the more in love with him.

Jaehyun chuckles slightly, the vibrations of his voice tickling the skin of your neck as he presses tender kisses against it, his hands slowly ghosting over the slight bump that began to protrude from your stomach’s form. 

“Only for you, Mrs. Jung.”

And as you stand there, relishing in the view of the beautiful golden sky whose ocean underneath casts a reflection that is enough to make your jaw drop as well as the warmth of the man whom you love and loves you just as dearly back, you feel an emotion that you haven’t felt in years; an emotion that you know will stay with you for a long time.

You are happy.

FIN.

[forevercloudnine]

new 52 scarebat ship meme

(I had @heroes-etc​ give me more questions, but for scarebat this time, since we talk about it 24/7 but I never post about it. These are from this ship meme.)

4. Their favorite physical feature on each other?

There’s only one feature of Bruce’s appearance that’s scarier when he’s not wearing the batsuit, and that’s his creepy blue eyes. Especially the way Greg Capullo draws them where they’re sickly pale and have ridiculously constricted pupils.

So his eyes would definitely be in the running for Jonathan’s favorite feature, even if seeing them would require Bruce’s mask to be off, which is something New 52 Scarecrow explicitly avoids. Yes, that character trait only exists to justify why Batman’s identity is still secret after Scarecrow mind controls and subsequently institutionalizes him in “Gothtopia,” but I think it’s interesting so I’m going to pretend it’s not shoe-horned in there for meta reasons.

Actually having to see Bruce without the cowl on would definitely permanently break the illusion of Batman as a nightmarish inhuman bat demon, which I’m sure is a large part of the appeal for anyone as obsessed with fear as Jonathan Crane. But Bruce’s creepy eyes would be a serious consolation prize. 

Bruce’s favorite of Jonathan’s physical features is rough, because Jonathan is famously not great re: physical features. I’m going to say his mouth, because a) that’s where the snark comes from, and b) the New 52 establishes that in one of their earlier encounters, Jonathan had sewn his own mouth shut, so it’s one of those things where a bad first impression turned positive later on leads to more fondness than if you’d made a good impression in the first place.

I just looked up the panel where he does it and I DID forget how incredibly gross his lips look here, which makes the fact that I have chosen it as Bruce’s feature seem really funny in retrospect. But I do think that seeing Jonathan’s mouth healed and unmutilated would be a reassuring reminder of how he’s stabilized since their first encounter, at least to the point that he isn’t hurting himself anymore. Also, Bruce buys him a lot of chapstick.

Bonus alternate answer that did not make it into the Google Doc:

9. How open are they with their feelings?

Bruce and Jonathan are both pretty competent deceivers in the New 52; Bruce always, Jonathan depending on how the writer is feeling (though you could argue that Bruce just has a stronger grip on reality, while Jonathan’s skill at obfuscation varies with how lucid he is).

...I was going to use Detective Comics #23.3 as an example of Jonathan being a good liar, but actually upon re-reading I’m realizing that only 1/4 rogues buy his attempt at manipulation. So maybe he’s considerably worse at hiding his intentions than he thinks he is. Regardless, he doesn’t ever attempt to disguise his obsession with Batman.

Whether or not he’d express romantic feelings or try to hide them is debatable. There’s no Masters of Fear equivalent in the New 52 establishing that he was ever mocked or punished for expressing romantic feelings for someone, though there is a flashback panel in his origin emphasizing that he was always lonely in this regard (and coincidentally doesn’t specify that his interest is in women, which is fun).

In Green Lanterns #17 he has some internal monologue about how fear is his romance and he needs Batman to feel it, but it is an INTERNAL monologue, so it’s not clear if this is something he would express to Bruce or keep to himself. Or if he’s even fully processed it himself, given how incredibly out of it he is in this comic. Most of his spoken lines are just kind of screaming incoherently. Bruce gets pretty snippy with a Green Lantern at the end of the issue for suggesting that Jonathan should be punished for his crimes as if he were in control of his actions. 

Bruce is a similarly complicated answer, since for all his deceptions and shadowy mystery he pretty much wears his heart on his sleeve when it comes to romance. It’s just that his heart doesn’t express or process emotions the same way as anyone around him, which can create conflict. His (seriously underrated) love interest during Scarecrow’s origin arc, Natalya, spent most of her time dating him thinking that he didn’t care about her for this reason. He was trying to express that he loved her, but he mostly did so through complimenting her skills, which she never took as serious declarations of affection because he wasn’t being straightforward and she was insecure.

Jonathan does not himself seem like someone who would be especially secure in the idea of another person having romantic feelings towards him, so I assume that while Bruce might THINK he’s being open with any romantic feelings he develops, he would in reality just be really confusing.

13. How do they react to being away from each other?

I actually think that in general, Jonathan is one of the few people who would have no issue dealing with Bruce’s tendency to unexpectedly go AWOL for long periods of time, given that he himself has a tendency to fixate on his work to the exclusion of everything else.

But New 52 Jonathan specifically probably has pretty serious abandonment issues due to his father putting him in “the pit” and dying before he could take him out, meaning that Jonathan was waiting for his dad to come back for him for God knows how long, until Jonathan Sr.’s employers finally sent the police to investigate. 

So while in general I think he wouldn’t be very clingy, any impression that Bruce had died or otherwise wasn’t coming back for him would probably be incredibly triggering. If Bruce could assuage this reaction by occasionally sending updates that at least indicated he was still alive, then I doubt Jonathan would have any problems with his absence.

(@heroes-etc​: bruce sending like a checkmark emoji once a day. jonathan hears his phone ping, looks at the screen, and goes hm. good. and doesnt respond.)

Bruce meanwhile has no problem ditching literally any love interest at any time if something crime-related comes up, unless he’s considering quitting the cowl for them (as Joker probably accurately fears will happen with Catwoman in Prelude to the Wedding). But I don’t think he’d stop being Batman for Scarecrow, nor would Jonathan ever want him to — he’s interested in Batman, not necessarily Bruce Wayne.

But even though Bruce wouldn’t have an emotional problem with distance, I think he would get similarly paranoid if they went too long without contact, though for different reasons than Jonathan. Unlike some other villains (*cough* Joker and Riddler), Scarecrow has machinations that don’t require getting Batman’s attention, so if he decided to continue with his less legal experiments, he would not feel compelled to get Bruce involved. While the “World’s Greatest Detective” would probably not have an issue keeping an eye on Jonathan while he’s in Gotham, he’s considerably less capable of that in space. And Jonathan is definitely a rogue he would be obsessed with keeping an eye on, even if he reformed. 

Batman & Robin Eternal established that Dick’s first supervillain conflict AND first mission leaving the country was chasing Scarecrow across the world for an entire summer, which is kind of insane considering how early it was in Batman’s career. Like, he did not have an army of children to watch Gotham for him while he was gone. He had one child, and he took that child WITH him. He left Gotham undefended for months, JUST to catch Scarecrow. Sooo that in of itself implies he wouldn’t be great at keeping his distance.

15. Does their view of themselves differ from their partner’s view?

Well, Jonathan occasionally sees Bruce as a giant bat demon, so yes.

Outside of that very obvious differing view, Jonathan in general sees himself and the rest of the rogue gallery as more vital to Batman’s identity than Bruce considers them; the extent to which he’s right varies depending on your interpretation of Bruce’s character, but it’s definitely not something Bruce would ever consciously think or say. 

This is related to something that’s definitely a misconception of his, though, which is that the majority of Batman’s job revolves around supervillains like him. In Kings of Fear, when Jonathan blackmails Bruce into letting him come on patrol with him (which is a whole thing in of itself), he’s shocked at how boring most of Batman’s work is. Which probably goes along hand in hand with sometimes seeing Bruce as an almost mythologically inhuman figure. 

In his defense, it’s not like he has a lot of context for what the minutiae of Batman’s job is like. He’s either fighting Batman, hiding from Batman, or imprisoned by Batman in Arkham, a place where everyone else also spends all their time fighting or hiding from Batman. Which would really skew your perspective.

Interestingly, Bruce and Jonathan are both people who pride themselves on being extremely self-aware. Both of them probably inaccurately. You can rant about how you have a perfect understanding of your troubled mental state all day long, but if you’re still dressing up like a monster at night to indulge the power fantasies you created as a traumatized child by scaring the hell out of people, there’s probably a level of self-realization you haven’t gotten to yet.

Bruce however is at least self-aware enough to regularly be able to analyze his way out of fear toxin induced hallucinations, which Jonathan is unable to do — when he’s not depicted as having become immune to his fear toxin due to overexposure (as he is in Green Lanterns #17), he can be defeated with the same formulas that Batman regularly manages to resist (like his honestly embarrassing breakdown in Nightwing #50). 

Which ties into the difference between how he sees himself and how Bruce sees him: Jonathan obviously visualizes himself as a “master” of fear. He actually has the same internal monologue about fear and trauma that Bruce does in Batman: The Dark Knight #13: “Make it your own... run to what you fear... stare it in the eye... until it whimpers and backs down.” But Bruce doesn’t see Scarecrow as conquering his fear; he sees him as addicted to it, to the point of his own detriment.

Which is interesting, because Jonathan clearly sees his Scarecrow persona as a way to regain control after being victimized by his father’s fear experiments throughout his childhood. I guess Bruce’s perspective would be that Jonathan’s father instead got him addicted to fear as a child, so his attempts at agency as Scarecrow are just a) reliving his trauma over and over and b) compulsively inflicting his own trauma on others. There’s probably some truth to that, even if overall it’s probably an oversimplification (and coincidentally pretty much EXACTLY what Riddler argues Bruce is doing by “funding” Batman in Batman Annual #4, so there’s that).

20. Did either person change at all, to be with their partner?

The obvious answer here is yes, because Jonathan is a supervillain with no regard for human life while Bruce is a superhero who has dedicated his life to protecting people. So presumably one or both of them would have to make serious compromises to be together. HOWEVER. Scarecrow’s primary motivation is to research, understand and inflict fear, while Batman’s modus operandi is making his enemies afraid of him. So despite their contradiction in morals, they’re uniquely positioned to advance each other’s goals, were they to ever join forces.

Bruce never has a problem using fear toxin on Scarecrow, presumably partially out of an “eye for an eye” sense of poetic justice, but also because Batman is practical and it’s a nonlethal weapon that’s always available to him while fighting Scarecrow. If he could have fear toxin customized for his own use, it’s hard to imagine him being unwilling to use it. In Gothtopia he actually advocates for using what’s leftover from Crane’s new formula on all the inmates at Arkham, which seems about as insanely morally ambiguous as it gets. Arguably, putting fear toxin in his smoke bombs would be considerably less wrong than drugging mental patients out of their mind when they’re supposed to be receiving therapy (this is also the issue where he illegally releases Poison Ivy because she did him a favor, which is both morally questionable and relevant to the current topic).

Jonathan obviously already thinks Batman is the most interesting possible case study in fear; it’s why he keeps coming back to Bruce and Gotham despite being one of the more independent villains in Batman’s rogue gallery in the New 52. So though he would have to give up actively kidnapping people (which would be a huge sacrifice, I’m sure), teaming up with Bruce would give him unrestricted access to his favorite test subject. Unfortunately, it seems very possible that he would fall back to old tricks if he ever felt that he’d gotten everything he could out of a partnership with Bruce. Fortunately, that would probably take a VERY long time.

[diyunho]

The Joker X Reader - “Ghost Driver”

When The Joker says you’re his, it means you’re essential to him because he needs your services for his own gain; it literally has zero affectionate connotations. Turbo is The King’s Ghost Driver and although she’s a legend, her life is far from perfect.

Part 2

“Where’s all your stuff?!” Frost asks since the apartment is pretty much empty.

“Gave it to Adam,” you sulk. “He wouldn’t sign the divorce papers so I gave in; I don’t even care… I’m glad he’s out of here.”

Jonny gazes at you in silence, a million words rushing through his mind and The Joker’s henchman can’t articulate anything close to what he would like to vociferate besides foolish small talk:

“How are you holding up?”

“Not sure… I don’t even know what the hell happened to us…It used to be so great and then he started making comments about my weight, gossiping with his friends behind my back, then cheated… I couldn’t handle it,” Y/N confesses although Frost is already acquainted with the dreadful story of her crumbled marriage.

“Not what the hell happened to us,” he decides to underline his personal opinion. “I think the question should be what the hell happened to him: you didn’t do anything wrong. And I believe you look perfect,” he mumbles the last sentence.

“What was that?” you search the fridge for his favorite soda.

“Nothing... nothing…”

“Here you go,” you offer the cold Fanta to a distraught companion.

“Thanks, Y/N. Here’s the money for tonight,” he gives you the envelope. “As usually, half now , half after the job is done.”

“OK,” you accept the terms without issues because it’s how The Clown Prince of Crime pays for your services. “Jonny, why is there an extra thousand dollars in here?!”

“Ummm…” the man tries to find a reasonable explanation yet Y/N can’t accept his strategy.

“Should I text Mister Joker and thank him for the bonus?”

“Nope,” he bites on his lip.

“I appreciate it,” you return the extra cash to Frost. ”I’m fine. Really.”

“Well…” he takes the bills and stashes them in his wallet, “… let me know if you need anything, alright?”

“I promise I will, “ you smile. “I swear on my Turbo honor,” the joke makes him smile also.

“Hey Y/N… I was thinking… maybe one of these days, if you feel like it, we could… and it’s entirely up to you, no pressure… maybe you would want to… ”

Frost’s phone keeps ringing and he retrieves from his suit’s pocket, annoyed about the interruption.

“It’s Audra,” he huffs while declining the call.

“Might be important,” you sort of urge him to answer.

“Meh, I doubt it. She will chew my ears off regarding our relationship that ended 3 months ago. I’m not interested,” he strolls towards the exit due to another pressing matter he has to attend. “I have to go, Mister Joker has a meeting soon; I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

“See you,” you wave and lock the door when your cell alerts of an incoming text from The Joker.

Downloading two pictures… Pictures?!

“Oh…my… God…!” you hold your breath when the first image depicts a totally naked King of Gotham reflected in the mirror at his gym and squeal when the second one shows a close up of his mid-section.

“Oh my God!” you burst out laughing as you admire the unexpected missive. “Heeeelllo Mister Joker,” you mutter and actual phrases pop up on your screen.

“I sent these to the wrong number, Y/N. Ignore and erase them!”

“Of course, sir!” you immediately reply with no intention of doing it for the moment.

Why?

The hilarious error shook you up from apathy and it’s worth saving those pics for a bit longer since you can’t remember the last time something got your attention after the messy divorce.

***************

11:49 PM

The Joker is the first one to get in the car next to you, firmly clutching to his suitcase full of diamonds freshly stolen from “Diamond Emporium” store on Glissan Avenue. You notice the other goons sneaking to the cars deliberately positioned around nearby streets for tonight’s robbery. How come J doesn’t go with them?

The dilemma is simple:

The green haired menace typically arrives with his regular crew when he plans heists but has Y/N pick him up after the job is done.

“Hi Mister Joker,” you greet your employer.

“Hey,” he acknowledges your presence. “Did you delete the pictures?” The Joker gets straight to the point.

“Yes,” you lie and tell the truth in the same time: you erased the whole body image but kept the close up one for future reference.

“Good. What did you think?” the hasty interrogation prompts a careful chosen response.

“You look very…,” and you pause in order to find the correct term since a tiny mistake could set him off. “… Healthy, Mister Joker.”

“I do,” he huffs quite pleased with your statement.

You wish to add more but Frost and the new hire squeeze in the back seat awaiting orders.

“You’re in luck kid,” Jonny places a box filled with precious gems at his feet. “Your first assignment and you get to meet Turbo.”

The young man opens his mouth in amazement as you move the fingers from your right hand in the air instead of a proper introduction.

“You’re Turbo?! I thought you’re a guy!” Nick blurs out and Frost punches him in the head, displeased with the observation.

“Sounds empty,” you growl while The Clown snorts.

“My Ghost Driver A GUY??!! Ha-ha-ha-ha!” the unnerving, screechy noises make the newbie shrivel up. “Turbo, A GUY!” he continues to amuse himself before giving Nick a psychotic glare.

“I’m…I’m so sorry, I meant no disrespect,” he nervously stutters especially since J called you “his”.

The poor bastard’s oblivious about what the label implies in The Clown’s universe: when The Joker says you’re his, it means you’re essential to him because he needs your services for his own gain; it literally has zero affectionate connotations.

“Where the fuck did you find this buffoon?” you chew on your gum, irritated.

“He’s Richard’s nephew,” Jonny sucks on his teeth.

“Uncle Panda is infinitely smarter,” Y/N barks at the revelation.

“I’m truly sorry,” Nick apologizes again and you cut him off.

“Save it!... … I hear sirens,” you slowly inhale and The King calmly articulates:

“I forgot to mention I accidentally triggered the silent alarm.”

Translation: he did it on purpose.

You snicker at the first lights blinking in the distance, excited to have some fun after stressing so much in the past weeks. The vehicles belonging to the gang scatter in different directions as you step on the gas pedal, accelerating towards the numerous police cars answering to the 10-64 code.

“That’s my girl!” J cracks his neck, already hyped at the adrenaline rush burning his veins: The Ghost Driver is perfect to offer him what he craves and she always delivers.

That’s why Turbo is his.

************

4:37 AM

“Hi…Mister…Mister Joker…” you attempt to talk without slurring.

“It’s Ella,” his girlfriend snarls.

“Why…where is he?” you guzzle down half of glass of wine, adamant in having a chat with your boss.

“Well, after you two had a merry time being chased by cops all over town, he came home and now he’s sorting out the diamonds,” the woman bitterly reports.

“I wanna talk to him,” you sniffle and drink some more alcohol.

“You just saw him. I’m sure it can wait until tomorrow.”

“I’m sure it can’t!” you shout. “I just received important information he’d be i…interested in,” you finally make it through the whole sentence.

Ella stomps in the living room, vexed at your behavior.

“It’s Turbo,” she shoves the phone in his fingers. “The bitch is wasted!”

“What did you call me?!” the appalled Y/N is about to burst when The Joker’s deep voice resonates I her ear.  

“Yeah?”

“Sir,” you correct your bitter tone. “I h-have very important news!”

“I’m listening,” J ignores his woman as she cusses you out.

“I have to tell you in person, sir. Let’s go on a date and I’ll reveal the entire shocking...”

“Huh?!”

“I have crucial information…”

“Quit repeating yourself!” The Joker interrupts. “You’re not making any sense. Go to sleep and we’ll catch up after you sober up.”

“But I wanna go on date Mister Joker,” you gulp the rest of the wine and prepare for a fourth round.

“Why, because I look healthy?” J mocks and Ella sighs, not understanding the odd conversation she’s witnessing. “… …. … Hello?”

A loud thud, then dialing tone at the other end of the line.

“I think she passed out,” The King of Gotham concludes, not particularly worried at the sudden halt of your monologue.

***************

3 Days Later

The late meeting is almost done: the buyers already purchased the diamonds J had for sale, among them your ex-husband Adam that has a small crowd gathered next to him; he’s supposedly famous for his crappy attitude enjoyed by jerks sharing the same ludicrous humor.

“You know I’m sensible when it comes to challenges and I couldn’t grasp why she doesn’t want my help in shedding a few pounds. What’s the harm in that?! I love curves but sometimes I don’t, ya’ know?” he winks and the group laughs.

The Joker is arranging money in duffle bags, his concentration diverted by the impromptu comedic performance. What the heck are they yapping about?

Frost is certainly in a foul mood: J can guess his trusted henchman is worked up since the usual chilled Jonny can’t control his anger.

“What’s wrong with being voluptuous, hm?” he addresses Adam and it clicks for The Joker: this is about Y/N.

“Nothing at all,” he smirks and the laughter around the room dies out because not too many dare screwing with Jonny Frost. “I was merely emphasizing that if a woman can’t lose weight, she’s doomed. Y/N lost me, how is she going to get another stud if she…”

“Perhaps she’s not interested in pieces of shit; definitely had her share!” Frost grumbles at the absurd remarks.

The Joker has no clue about what’s going on, yet he won’t deny today’s entertainment is far from boring.

“Give me a break!” Adam scoffs. “Who’d sniff her tail if she refuses to get skinnier? Ooohhh, wait a minute, we might have an admirer,” he arrogantly slides your cell out of his coat. “I was browsing her pictures and what do you know? A gentleman sent Y/N a picture of his junk three days ago. I am deeply sorry, my bad. She does have somebody sniffing her tail. What kind of loser sends images of his dangling goodies to another dude’s wife?!” 

“Ex-wife!” Jonny sneers whilst J’s calculation leads to an easy verdict: you kept one pic.

“Whose junk is this?! Is it yours?” your estranged spouse accuses Frost without any evidence.

“It’s my junk,” The Joker’s serene revelation makes everyone freeze: they have no idea how to react at the puzzling escalation of events.

Is he bluffing?!

“I wasn’t aware I require permission in order to text whatever I desire to whomever I want.”

Awkward silence and Frost approaches Adam, boiling with indignation.

“Why do you have Y/N’s phone?”

Your husband doesn’t have a chance to justify his action: Jonny’s punch throws him to the ground, immediately followed by his unsettling ultimatum.  

“You son of a bitch, what did you do to her?”

Your former husband gets on his elbow ready to attack when The King’s stern inquiry stops his motion:

“WHERE.IS.MY.TURBO?”

****************

After 1 hour

Frost lifts you higher in his arms while you keep wheezing, trying to regain control.

“I’m sorry…I attacked you,” the weakened Y/N whispers. “I thought you were Adam...”

After being abducted and left to starve for the last 3 days, you had one clear purpose: to kill the guy that did it. Adam surely crossed the line with his despicable plan of making you lose weight: he creeped in your apartment, kidnapped you and took you to his home where you were chained in the cellar until Jonny found you. The basement was dark and you couldn’t see, that’s why you used whatever strength you had left in order to attack the individual responsible for your misfortune.

Turned out it was actually a rescue party although Frost is now the proud owner of a beautiful bump courtesy of Y/N.

“No problem,” Jonny takes you to his SUV, carefully laying you down in the passenger’s seat. “How’s your head?” he wipes the dried blood on your cheeks since Adam knocked you out unconscious while you were talking to The Joker after the heist.

“I’m OK,” you start crying, mostly mad at yourself for being such an easy prey, yet you didn’t see it coming.

“You know… It’s OK not to be OK,” Frost opens a bottle of water and gives it to you. “I’ll take you home, you can take a shower and I’ll have the doctor come for an emergency evaluation. Are you hungry?”

“I’m so hungry,” tears stream down your face and Jonny has a great proposal.

“I’ll order some food and if you want me to I can stay with you. After you feel better, we could… and it’s entirely up to you, no pressure… maybe you would want to…”

The Joker rolls his eyes, deciding to emerge from the shadows.

“Wow, this is painful to watch. Frost believes he’s still in high school: basically he’s asking you on a date. There, done. No need to beat around the bush. Jesus!” J scolds about a subject he shouldn’t mess with. “I have a heist next week, you better be good to go by then!” he gestures at the confused duo. “If you’ll excuse me, I have my own date to honor. We’re done here, yes?”

“Yes sir,” Jonny replies for both, unwilling to split hairs with The Joker and his obnoxious aberrations. “Here’s your cell,” he returns the item to you and you snatch it, relieved. You seem to have an outburst of energy as you unlock the secured folder.

“Where’s Adam?”

“I don’t know, we had an altercation at the warehouse then he scrammed,” Frost reports, ogling a strange looking Y/N typing on her phone.

“He won’t be able to hide,” you grin and send the attachment to The Joker.

*************

“We’ll be late for dinner,” Ella kisses The Clown. “I’m not a 100% positive why we had to waste precious time and come for her,” she pouts and drags him after her towards their vehicle.

J’s phone chimes and he stops in his tracks, not expecting a message from you seconds after the encounter.

“Mister Joker, you were very generous to share pictures with me.

Allow me to do the same.

Your Turbo.”

Imagines downloading and he’s not sure what to do when pics appear one by one: frames taken by the private investigator you hired to follow Adam when you suspected he was cheating. The bastard was diligent, but he was eventually caught in the act three days ago.

Who’s the woman he’s with?

The Joker’s Queen.

“What’s wrong?” she frowns at the visible switch in his temper.

The Clown ruthlessly slams Ella against the hood while her cell also receives a text from Y/N:

“Who’s the bitch now?”

 Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me on Wattpad and Ao3 under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[can-i-just-say-this]

To Say I Love You

Draco Malfoy's 25 lives inspired by '25 Lives' by Tongari

Part 1

1. The very first time I remember you, you are blonde and don’t love me back.

"No way in hell, Malfoy", Harry spats his words. Malfoy gets it, he has reputation. He's a player and he doesn't deserve Potter, but it still hurts because for the first time in his life, he's sincere. Potter turns his back, his blond hair glinting under the sun as he runs to some gingerhead Draco doesn't even care to know the name of. Maybe he should have.

"What did he want?"

"Something that's not worth my time."

Draco hopes the next time they meet, Harry Potter will change his mind.

2. The next time you are brunette, and you do.

"You are the perfect copy of your mother, Harry." that earns an eye roll from his boyfriend. Draco is so nervous to meet Harry's family for the first time, and he needs the distraction, no matter how pathetic it is. Harry notices, of course, he always does.

"Just relax, they will love you."

"And what if they don't?"

What if I lose you again?

Harry just grins, hand squeezing his trembling fingers.

"Then we will elope"

Draco allows himself to grin back at his ridiculous lover.

3. After a while I give up trying to guess if the colour of your hair means anything.

"Please tell me you're joking" Draco mutters, devastated. Harry just laughs, his green eyes shining in the moonlight. Now that Draco squints his eyes, he could see Harry's abominable hair clearly.

"It's purple. Oh God, it's purple."

"I know! Do you like it?"

Draco loves everything Harry does, no matter how ridiculous it is, but he'll be damned if he admits that now. Draco just scowls at his classmate.

"I hate it like I hate your whole existence, Potter."

Harry laughs again, and all is well in Draco's life.

4. Because even if you don’t exist, I am always in love with you.

Draco's suit is too tight even for him, and seeing Pansy in a dress that doesn't let her breathe doesn't make him breathe easier. She clicks her tounge after she finishes her nth champagne.

"Draco, darling, you know I love parties as much as you do, but this is ludicrous. This is the fourth ball we attend this year."

"Last year it was seven."

Pansy swats her purse at him, which Draco dodges easily.

"Not the point. Come on, just choose a pretty face and be done with it. I'm sure you can have anyone here."

But I don't want anyone. I want only him. Where is he?

5. I remember most fondly those lifetimes where we get to grow up together,

"I look like you, Father!"

James couldn't be more wrong, though. He might have Draco's pointed nose and fair skin, but his messy black hair and green eyes are unmistakably Harry's. Draco doesn't correct him, neither does his husband.

"Show him the photos when we flew our first broom."

"You mean when I flew and you fell on your face?"

His husband gasps and shoves his shoulder.

"I was spooked! You were screaming, remember?"

Draco remembers. He was screaming in joy when he feels the wind hitting his small face. Three minutes later Harry was in the sky beside him. It was Draco's fondest childhood memory, still.

6. When you share your secrets and sorrows and hiding places with me.

Draco wasn't sure how Harry found the Mirror of Erised. He also wasn't sure whether to scold Potter for deluding himself seeing his dead parents or to sympathize, but Harry is holding his hand, so Draco concludes he can leave the scolding to Granger. He doesn't stare in the mirror, he doesn't have to, not even when Harry whispers to him with an open curiosity in his eyes.

"What do you see?"

You, always.

7. I love how you play along with my bad ideas,

"Snape will kill us."

Harry doesn't stop saying it everytime, yet he never fails to sneak into the dorm kitchen with Draco.

"Nah, I'm his favorite student. You, on the other hand, my beloved partner in crime-"

"You realize I will haunt you for the rest of your life if I die after this, right? I'll make sure you can't live peacefully"

Ah, but that's where you're wrong. My life is the most peaceful when you're in it, Harry.

8. Before you grow up and realize they are bad ideas.

"You can't just throw your money every time things don't work out for you, Malfoy!"

But Draco could. He will in fact do everything in his power to make sure everything works out for Harry, and if it means buying Harry a seat in some elitist music class Harry keeps talking about for years, then so be it.

"I can't take it."

"You will."

"Why are you even doing this?"

Because I love you, of course.

Draco didn't say those words, he starts his monologue about his ability to recognize a talent when he sees one instead.

9. (And in our times together I have many bad ideas.)

They are laying naked in Draco's bed, and Draco wants to throw up. He doesn't even remember how it happened. One second he's trying to get a lunch date with Potter, five months later they are still fuckbuddies, no strings attached. Draco knows he should be patient, he should wait longer, love harder, but he is just so, so tired. He hides his tears behind his hand, praying to which ever Gods who have mercy that his voice won't crack.

"Potter, let's stop this. Don't ever come again."

Until your heart belongs to me, please don't walk into my life again.

10. When we meet as adults you’re always much more discerning. I don’t blame you.

Draco Malfoy is a single father of one because of his teenage mistake, so it was not a surprise when Harry Potter rejected him. It was also not a surprise when five years later Harry fell in love with Scorpius, either. His kid is gifted in Defense Against Dark Arts and Professor Potter has a weakness for his puppy eyes. Draco Malfoy is surprised, however, when after countless visit to Malfoy Manor to have extra sessions with his favorite student, Harry is proposing.

"You just want to steal my son", Draco says between hiccups, and Harry grins sheepishly.

"Oops. Guilty. Still, marry me?"

Draco says yes.

[danyka-fendyr]

Eight

Alright everyone, so this is just a little thing I made for @dreamwritesimagines writer’s block challenge. Because she is an absolute love, she let me write it about Matt Murdock rather than, say, literally any of the characters I was really supposed to write it about. I named it Eight because recently I’ve been getting a little into enneagrams because Sleeping at Last released an amazing album about them and I feel like Matt would be an 8. So many of the lyrics on track 8 describe Matt to me. It’s a bit short, but that’s because I still have homework to do, lol. I hope you guys like it! Dream was kind enough to let me use the prompts, “We’re not together, we’re bros- I’m gonna be his best woman at his wedding. “ and “You? You’re my superhero crush?” I love her brain, and I love her stories, so I feel very lucky to get to make this. Thanks so much Dream!

Warnings: None because for once in my life I’m not murdering anybody. Really just some pg-13 action type stuff.

Wordcount: 1864

I'm standing guard, I'm falling apart And all I want is to trust you Show me how to lay my sword down For long enough to let you through

-Sleeping at Last, Eight

Matt Murdock was undoubtedly a complicated man in every sense of the word. He usually looked like he had fallen asleep in an iron maiden, and not the band, he left at the most inconvenient times, and he slept with more women than one could reasonably count on both hands.

You were very unsure why you were friends with him. Frankly, it seemed like a terrible idea. You were definitely not the kind of person who found yourself friends with an insane person.

“I would disagree with that.” Matt interrupted you.

“Hey! I was trying to inner monologue.”

“Yeah, well, you were outer monologuing.”

“Not the first time.” You sighed, leaning forward on his couch to touch your toes.

“I can’t see what you’re doing but I can tell it’s dumb.”

“You’re so mean to me.” 

In spite of that, you sat back up, rolling over to lay your head in his lap. Matt didn’t have to think before sinking his hands into your hair, playing with it. You sighed, closing your eyes against the glow of the neon lights swimming across the walls of his otherwise dark apartment.

“You really have the worst view, you know that?”

You could hear Matt smile. “That’s not what you said the first time you saw it. You called it, ‘enchantingly urban,’ as I recall.”

“That was for your benefit. It’s crap.” You opened your eyes again so you could glare at him accusingly. 

“If it’s so bad then why do you crash on my couch so often?”

“Because my roommate, though I love her dearly, snores like Mr. Snuffleupagus if he was dying.”

“Big Bird’s got a gun,” Matt sing-songed.

“Was that even a thing when you were in school or is this just another result of the creepy amount of time you spend with children.”

“A. It is not creepy. I just happen to do a lot of pro bono work, and children just happen to usually be broke. B. I think you’re just asking that question because you’re trying to avoid the elephant in the room.”

“Wait, there’s an elephant in the room?” You sat up. “Matt, I think you’re seeing things. Oh wait...”

“That is really not as clever as you think it is.”

“Oh no, it is. And you love it.”

“Alright, you’ve got me there.”

“Seriously though. Is there an elephant in the room I just don’t know about? Because as far as I’m concerned we’re peachy.” You tucked your feet up under yourself, the material of Matt’s couch digging into your skin.

“The fact that you’ve been here, sleeping on my couch, almost every night this week.”

You frowned. “I thought you said you liked having me around.”

“I do. But having you around this much sometimes interferes with my...social life.”

“Oh, ew! Too much information, Matthew!” You recoiled, putting your hands over your ears.

You and Matt had been friends for roughly forever. Okay, so it hadn’t been that long. It had been a few years though. In the timeline of Significant Matt Life Events, you had met him pre-Karen Paige, post-Foggy Nelson. It had been a match made in heaven when you accidentally walked into him and he, with all the snark in the world, had asked you how you had managed to bump into him even though he was the blind one. He thought he was funny, but you weren’t as amused. Foggy asked you for your phone number, one bad date lead to a great friendship, and the rest was history.

“The elephant in the room is Foggy’s new girlfriend.”

“Um...I think she might take offense to that, Matt. Like, a lot of offense.”

If he looked about 2 inches to his left he would be glaring right at you.

“No seriously. I don’t get what you’re trying to get at here, Matty.”

“What I’m trying to say is that Foggy hasn’t dated anyone since you. I was just wondering...how you felt about that.”

It was at this point in time that you started dying laughing. It wasn’t really that funny, but in a way, it was. You? Heartbroken over Foggy Nelson, a man you had gone on one date with once, years ago? Unlikely. You said as much.

“Okay.” Matt sounded oddly relieved. “I just wanted to make sure. They asked us to dinner tomorrow night, but I was prepared to make excuses for you.”

“Ooooh, dinner? Sounds perfect!” You gave Matt your toothiest smile, even though he couldn’t see it.

“I’m not paying for you.”

You punched him in the arm. “Meanie.”

Dinner with Matt and Foggy’s new girlfriend was an interesting affair. Not because Foggy’s new girlfriend wasn’t nice. She was! She just also mistakenly assumed you were on a double date. You weren’t!

“So, Matt,” she started, taking a sip of her drink. “Enough about Foggy and I. How long have you and Y/N been dating?”

Matt looked more surprised than he probably should have given that they had been asked this question a few times.

 “Us? Dating. No.” Matt laughed. “I think you misunderstood. Y/N and I are just friends.”

“Yeah. We’re not together, we’re bros- I’m gonna be his best woman at his wedding. “

“Oh, I’m so sorry. You two just seemed so comfortable with each other, and...” She glanced down to where Matt’s jacket lay over your shoulders, your fingers intertwined over the table from where you sat on the opposite side of the booth in the cozy little Italian restaurant you knew was run by one of Matt’s old clients.

Now, listen. You know what it looked like. But there was a very simple explanation for all of this. You had gotten cold outside, Matt was a gentleman, your hands were also cold by proxy, you liked hand-holding, you liked Matt- Okay. So you liked Matt. Was that a crime?

That being said, it was none of anybody’s business.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Truth is, I’m already taken,” you said.

“Oh?” She seemed very surprised by that.

“Yeah. Daredevil has my heart. I love me a vigilante with a good butt.”

Foggy snorted. He was always very very amused by your innocent crush on Daredevil. You could never tell why, but you just assumed it was because he had a great sense of humor, even though he was rarely so entertained by your other jokes.

“You could say he’s a handsome devil,” Foggy chimed in.

“Ha! That’s a good one.” You grinned.

The night carried on in much the same way, though Foggy’s date seemed a little perplexed by the dynamic between you and Matt. You were pretty sure that at some point she went back to assuming you two were dating just because it was easier for her to handle. You couldn’t blame the poor girl. Even you got confused sometimes by the fact that you were not-dating Matthew Murdock. Matt liked to keep things confusing.

By the time you stumbled back to Matt’s apartment, you could barely keep your eyes open. You were a night owl, admittedly, but a night out on the town always left you feeling drained. Accordingly, Matt agreed to let you stay on his couch again. You could have loved him for that alone.

“Matt?” Your voice was quiet, hesitant as his keys jangled in the lock.

“Yes?” He opened the door, leading the two of you inside.

There is silence for a moment as you two shuffle your way inside, Matt’s cane tapping against the floor out of reflex. Your hands are still intertwined, and you don’t know how to say what you want to say next. You’re not even sure if you should say it.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Is something wrong?”

You take a shaky breath, stepping away from him and letting go of his hand. You can’t look at him right now, but that doesn’t really matter since he can’t tell the difference. You stare out his window instead, watching the neon signs buzz into the night.

“What would you say...if I told you I was a little bit in love with you?”

He doesn’t say anything, which in your mind is answer enough. Contrary to popular belief, you can actually take a hint. The message from Matt is loud and clear, ironic given all the silence surrounding you.

“I would say I’m glad I’m not the only one because I’m a little bit in love with you too.”

“You are?” You pivot to face him, eyes wide.

“Yes. I never wanted to say anything though, because I always thought you were still a little hung up over Foggy and...I don’t know. I date a lot of women and I didn’t want you to think you were just some passing phase or a replacement for someone or anything like that. I guess I just-”

You cut him off. You know it’s rude, but you can’t yourself. With greedy hands, you grab his face and press his mouth to your own.

Kissing Matt is a very physical experience. With him being blind, it’s like he’s trying to soak up as much of you as he can. Matt has all the prowess kissing you you would expect from a man with his experience, and it takes your breath away. His mouth moves against your own with an intensity you couldn’t have predicted, one hand tangling in your head. You feel his cane fall to the floor when the other hand wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against his body, skin on skin.

When you pull away, you can barely breathe, barely think. It is a rush to kiss Matt, and suddenly you have an idea of how he gets women into bed with him so easy. You would probably do anything he asked you to right now.

“I...If we’re going to do this, I have to tell you something,” he said.

“Yes. Anything.” Your eyes are still a little glassy.

“I’m the Daredevil.” He says it all in one go, spits it right out like he’s ripping off a band-aid.

There is a beat.

“You’re the what now?”

“I’m the-”

“No I heard you.” You pull yourself out of his arms, taking a step back in surprise. “You....You? You’re my superhero crush?”

“Yeah...sorry about that. I would have told you sooner, but I was afraid you would get hurt if you knew, but if we’re going to do this for real you have to know. I don’t want someone coming after you and having you be unprepared and-”

“Oh my gosh is that why Foggy thought all of my Daredevil comments were so funny?” You screeched.

“Yes, probably, but I don’t think you’re listening to me right now-”

“I can’t believe this! I just totally made out with my superhero crush. You felt me up!”

Matt sighed. At a certain point, he always realized he was never going to get through to you.

“Want to do it again?” He offered.

“Heck yeah!”

So you did. And that’s the story of how you somehow ended up dating your superhero crush. Who knew? Dreams really do come true.

[naromoreau]

Blind Date

Thank you so much to my amazing friend @outranks for betaing this and encourage me in every step to write this. Also a big thanks to the lovely @starsandskies for giving me her insight of John which I greatly appreciate.  _________________________ Pairing: Rook (Not a Deputy yet) x John Seed Rating: SFW, no warnings.  Pre-Game events

To abandon her old life was the hardest decision she'd taken knowing fully well it was the only way to get out of that shroud of toxicity. David had sworn with words that had punched her in the gut, not to leave her alone until she'd finally forgive him, something Rook knew was not gonna happen in the next month. Year. Hell, probably never. It wasn't as much the act as the treason, the lies and deceit that now felt like venom sluicing down her throat. It was wrath and it was consuming. It shouldn't hurt like this, she was better off, yet head tripped over heart 99 times out of 100. 

Not knowing where to go, calling Kim had seemed a brilliant idea. Much to her chagrin they hadn't seen each other in a long time, despite have been partners in crime in school, and pretty much sharing the tiniest detail about each other’s life once they were away. Those phone bills had been sky up high. Even after she married Nick, who was everything Rook could’ve asked for Kim, they were still as thick as thieves. 

So, in seconds Mrs. Rye had had everything decided, coaxing Rook to move back to Montana where they’d be waiting for her. It sounded like the perfect set up. Away from the constant hubbub and chaos New Jersey was. 

Her old Chevy roared up the highway, as the corn fields passed in a blur. It’d been a hell of a long trip but somewhere between the sight of the far away mountains and the mauve streaks of the sky, Rook felt a bit more at ease. She spotted the sign of Fall’s End at the distance and decided to drop by the closest grocery shop to buy the stuff she needed to prepare her killer spaghetti bolognesa to thank Kim and Nick to allow her to stay with them. Her mouth watered at the thought. 

The car skid to stop just outside the only visible store Rook could find. The place was small, crammed with supplies and the man in charge was attentive and polite. She glanced around. There was just another person aside her, who now fidgeted with something standing next to a pile of toilet paper. Rook looked at him as she passed by and her brows arched. He was definitely the most handsome man she'd seen. Just a little taller than her, trim and lush beard and brown hair slicked back. When he tipped his head up, a breath caught in her throat. Blue eyes clear as country sky stared back at her, icy hue making her words stutter in her mind. 

The corner of his lip quirked slightly in a smile that she decoded as a form of remote acknowledgement of her presence, so she nodded and made an stately retreat. 

Right. Pasta. 

It was ridiculous. The way her knees trembled a little when she finally seized the pasta and the tomatoes. She didn't know the man. For all Rook knew he could be married, engaged, or plainly not into her. And really. She was just tangling her thoughts when the reality was they were nobodies to each other. 

Rook sighed.

The only thing left to pick was the parmesan. Memories of her mom's recipe huddled in her mind once she stood in front of the cheeses and picked the one she remembered. 

"You don't want that, darling, it's nearly… inedible." 

It was that man. His voice was sinfully sweet, a tinge of pleased satisfaction falling thick from his tongue. 

"Excuse me?" 

The fact that he just called her 'darling' before insulting her childhood memories, kicked her sudden infatuation to the back of her mind. 

"That… cheese you just picked-- it's definitely heinous, a crime to use it in a good bolognese," he said, looking inquisitively at the ingredients she carried clutched to her chest. "This one on the other hand…" A tattooed hand offered her a different one, as she watched a smug grin come alive on his face. 

"Thanks. But I think I'll go with this one."

A wave of annoyance was starting to shatter her polite smile, as she sidestepped him, walking to the check out. 

"Suit yourself, dear."

Rook knew it was far better to ignore the taunt, but again, she wasn’t known for being the smart type. “Are you a professional cheff perhaps?”

The man just laughed. A short, sharp sound that made a shudder wrack her spine despite her best efforts. “I’m a lawyer.”

Huh. “Ah, well, yeah-- thanks.”

“I’m not wrong, dear.”

She clenched her jaw, waving a goodbye as his final words brushed her on her way to the register. 

She was about to leave the store, when the same honeyed voice greeted her from the store’s TV. 

"The salvation is within your reach, join us at Eden’s Gate--" 

‘Lawyer my ass’. The man was a fucking preacher. 

“Fucking televangelist.”

Apparently you couldn’t trust people in this town. 

___________________

Hope County was as idyllic as a bucolic painting but far more interesting. Her life in Rye's household was proving to be oddly cheerful even if half the time Rook was forced into the pleasant inaction of a well-tended guest. The grey dawns creeped one after the other and slowly, slowly, she started regaining a little of her previous balance. Thick amounts of anger, heavy as tar, fizzled out with every day she spent trudging across golden barley fields. 

That was, whenever Kim and Nick had to go to business in town, leaving her on her own. Otherwise, Rook was always hedged by activities ranging from helping Kim to administer the property, to assist Nick with never ending tuning and 'reparations' of his plane. Which Rook suspected had a bit more mileage than was safe, not that she would’ve voiced that thought in front of its owner. The man was head over heels for Carmina, the seaplane. 

"Pass me the torque wrench, Rookie.” 

Rook heard Nick’s huff from beneath one side of the plane, where he was bent trying to determine the source of the jarring sound of metal scratching metal everytime he turned on the engine. 

She fumbled in the tool box until it produced what she was looking for. "Here."

"It was just routine crop-dusting," he mumbled more to himself than Rook, "dunno what coulda got wrong."

"Bet you'll figure it out soon enough."

"I'm fuckin' counting on it, tell you that-- A friend and I go on testing flies on the weekends, y'know?" 

"More like dick measurement contests, but with planes, you mean." Kim chided in carrying a tray of sandwiches and three beers. 

Nick almost jumped on the spot, hitting his head with the open door of the plane. "It ain't like that, Kimmie, you know that."

"Yeah, right." Kim rolled her eyes an sipped her beer, an amused smile tugging her lips. 

"John's a good guy," Nick said. 

"Who’s John?" Truth was that Rook wasn't as interested as to actually want to know, but she didn't want to seem rude, after how amazing they'd been with her. Asking didn't cost anything. 

"A guy who moved here 'bout couple years ago," Nick said, "nice guy but keeps pretty much to himself except for--" 

"The dick measurement contests," Rook and Kim offered in unison with devilish twin grins, the words a slap on Nick's face. 

"Very funny you two," Nick groused. 

Kim sauntered to Nick and kissed him, softly, nothing more than a chaste peck on the lips. The way Nick clung to her waist, receiving every bit of what she was giving with complete rapture, as if they hadn't  kissed almost a hundred times already that day, struck Rook right in the middle of her current train of thoughts. Even in their best moments, David had never been like that, had never shown an ounce of the joy that reeked from Nick every time he held Kim. 

He'd never loved her and now she knew it. Suddenly Rook felt ill. 

"C'mon," Kim said with a dreamy smile, holding Nick's hand, "let's have some lunch."

-------------------

A month went by in a heartbeat and Rook started thinking about getting a job and settling there. Coming back to her roots, in a sense. 

“I’m glad to see you smiling again, honey,” Kim said after putting in the oven the result of their hard work.  

She had been trying for the last half hour to teach Rook how to make the perfect crust for an apple pie, after she ate six slices and demanded to know the magic behind it. Now they both sat at the isle, sipping two cold ones. 

“Yeah, kinda hard not to in a place like this-- I mean it’s… breathtaking.” 

Kim smirked. “It has its ups and downs, like every place I guess. You never meet too many new people.”

“But I mean that’s good in a way, right? You get to deepen your relationship with the ones you already know?” 

It was so different from the rhythm of living in New Jersey. Always fast. A ceaseless flow of new things that after a while were always not enough. Like David. And maybe that’d been the problem. 

“You thinking about that asshole, huh?”

Rook just sighed. “I mean-- maybe that was the problem, we moved in together too fast, I don’t know--”

Kim set her beer down, and placed one hand over one of her own. “No, sweetie. The guy was always an asshole, trying to pretend he wasn’t one. Knowing him more-- less, it wouldn’t have made any difference.”

Rook let out a soft, dry chuckle. She knew that, but trying to understand how all went to hell in a handbasket was helping her to realize this time, she wasn’t the failure. 

“I should’ve listened to you, Kimmie.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not your signature move,” Kim said, voice tinged with amusement.

Rook laughed, the joke unspooling the frayed, worn out tension curling up inside her. 

“How do you meet good people?” Rook asked, not really expecting an answer. 

“I guess-- I guess it’s a matter of you know-- just knowing people.” Kim arched a brow. “Do you wanna start dating again?”

“See, I don’t know. Yes? No? I don’t--” Rook sighed. “I just wanna know people, like you said, and maybe then-- who knows.”

Kim nodded along her stuttered monologue, her eyes glinting with what Rook identified as a sudden idea. She knew Kim’s ideas were to be feared or celebrated. “What about John?”

“Who’s John?” It took Rook point-three seconds to realize who Kim was talking about. “Nick’s weird plane friend?”

“He’s not weird and he’s a good man.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that. I mean--”

“He’s really good looking,” Kim said, pointedly.

“So you think I can be convinced with the promise of a pretty face, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Seriously, Kimmie, you think so little of me,” Rook said with faux offense, sporting a half-grin. She wasn’t totally opposed to the idea and she trusted Kim above all. Maybe this could be a good onset, and it didn't matter if things went sideways or if the guy ended up being a self absorbed prick that just took a swim in a barrel of cologne: it was a step in the right direction. “Fine, but make sure he’s into this too. I don’t wanna spend time with a guy who feels I ambushed him.”

“No worries, honey. I’ll take care of everything.”

__________________________________

 She admired the view in the mirror for a few long seconds, trying to convince herself it was not such a bad idea. Rook had never considered herself beautiful, but she was pleased by her reflection. The plain navy blue dress she'd packed almost without thinking, seemed fitting yet comfortable which was exactly what Rook wanted. She didn't want him to think she was trying too hard, especially if he wasn't going to return the favor. The silky fabric caressed her fingers as she glided them over the skirt, trying to fix any visible creasings. The nervous squirming in her stomach intensified as she went down the stairs, to meet the Ryes. 

"Ain't you a sight for sore eyes, honey," Kim chirped, with a big grin on her face. 

Rook tucked a strand of golden hair behind her ear, painfully conscious of her own blushing. "You think so?" 

"Bet your money on it." Kim gave her a reassuring smile, before holding her hands. "Nick's gonna take you there-- John insisted you two should have dinner at his ranch which I think is nice, 'cause the Spread Eagle is good and Old Gary is a nice guy but the place isn't suited for a proper date."

Rook quirked a brow. "He has a ranch?" 

"Yeah, I think you'll like it."

This was it. The physical display showing she was kicking her past to the curb, ready to start anew. Rook blew air hard, shaking her head and her carefully combed curls.

"It'll be fine, honey, and you can always call either me or Nick if you want an early pick up for whatever reason, m'kay?" 

Rook nodded before hugging Kim. 

"Thanks, Kimmie-- for everything."

Kim's eyes glinted, smiling warmly. "Go have fun."

-----------------------------------

Rook shivered when a current of wind blew up, her dress whipped around her body by it. The night sizzled with warmth, suiting for the end of July, yet Rook clutched her arms as if it was freezing before stepping through the threshold of the house. 

The door had been left open, a clear statement of how peaceful and quiet this side of the County was or of how much John trusted his neighbours. She could feel her heart drumming under every inch of skin, from her toes up to her temples. Her eyes swiveled down to the perfectly set table at the side of the great living room, and she let out a small gasp of surprise. It was definitely far more intimate than any scenario she'd expected. 

The room was dimly lit and she almost missed the man standing next to the fireplace with his back turned. 

When she took a step forward, the click of her heels against the floor seemed to snap him out of his silence and he swirled to face her. 

Oh. Oh no. 

"Ah, Rook, it's such a pleasure--" 

The words were cut in a dry halt, while a glaze of confusion set on his face. Apparently he was as dumbstruck as she was. 

Rook was trying her best to not let her jaw hit the floor, because "plane John" was the "parmesan guy", as she referred to him in the abridged version she'd given to Kim. In Rook's book the guy was a total jerk and a liar. Definitely not someone she wanted to spend the evening with. 

He recovered quicker than her. "I didn’t know you were staying with the Ryes," he said with a saccharine voice. 

"There was no reason for you to know it,” she said with her chin held high. "I'm sorry-- this was a mistake--" 

"On the contrary, my dear," he said, taking a few steps in her direction, his eyes drinking in the sight of her, "I believe this is a very right encounter." 

Rook gulped despite herself. He had no damn right to be this handsome: perfectly tailored black trousers and white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he could've passed for a model if he wanted to. She bit her lip to cut the spell. 

"You lied to me," Rook blurted out. 'And insulted my choice of cheese,' she wanted to add but it didn't seem like a proper claim. 

His brow creased. "I beg your pardon?" 

"You told me you were a lawyer but I saw you on that televangelical infomercial." 

She didn’t know what she was expecting but it certainly wasn't him huffing a laugh. "So you jumped to the conclusion I should've been lying because lawyers aren't men of God?" 

Rook wasn't feeling as confident in her assertion as a minute ago, nevertheless, she retaliated. "Actually the opposite, I think."

John finally broke in an honest, clear, ringing laugh that was as annoying as it was enticing. What a contradiction this man was. 

"Well, normally you'd be right, but it does happen that I am both," he said, walking to the table and reaching a hand in her direction. "I can tell you all about it if you stay with me for dinner."

Rook weighed the options in speed mode and agreed. After all saying no over the parmesan, would've been a whole new level of petty even for her. 

She took the hand drawn in her direction and her cheeks flushed when he closed his fingers around it. It felt warm, and a little rough, and something wild fluttered in her stomach at the contact. It'd been ages since she'd felt like that, like the central focus of attention, like he was the lucky one having her there. 

Her heart tumbled again when he reluctantly let go of her hand to pull the chair for her. A small gesture done with the ease of something that came natural, not just for show. 

"Thank you," she said. 

He nodded and flashed another dashing smirk in her direction. Thank God she was sitting because by now her knees were jello, courtesy of those striking blue eyes. 

"I have to say I wasn't expecting my date to be the beautiful stranger I met a month ago," he said in a frank tone, sitting at her side. "I often wondered if you were still around."

Rook almost let out a goofy giggle. She shouldn't have let it rattle her that much but the fact that he called her beautiful, aside from making wonders for her ego still hurt by the betrayal, in that matter of factly tone, just brushed aside some of her doubts about him. 

"Do you say the same to all your dates?" She quipped. 

By some magic trick her question made his composed manners crack a little. A light blush spread over his nose and cheeks. "I haven't had a date in years if I have to be honest." 

For the first time that night, she smiled at him. "Then we're in the same boat."

"Better to say, the same plane," he said serving her a slice of a handmade lasagna, the smell making her stomach rumble of hunger. 

"I bet you are as head over heels with your plane as Nick is with his," she scoffed. 

"Not true, darling," he said, "as much as I like Affirmation, my plane that is, things are just meanings to an end." He leveled his gaze with hers, almost breathtaking under the candlelights. "I reserve love just for people."

Rook shuddered under his veiled words and for a moment found herself wondering how would it be to be loved by him. It was silly, and utterly naïve. She was floundering in spirals of ifs when the truth was he was only being polite and she was being delusional. 

"Shall we?" She asked gesturing to her plate, swallowing her inconvenient thoughts. 

John's eyes lingered for a few seconds on her, his mouth quirked in a smirk. "Of course."

-------------

By the end of the meal Rook had learned everything there was to know about John Seed the lawyer and PR of Eden's Gate Project. 

She wasn't a woman of faith, considering herself mostly a respectful audience rather than willing participant but John had been so convincing she'd agreed to join him for the Sunday service next week. 

A pang of regret assaulted her for thinking bad of him for so long when in all honesty he seemed a good person, if well, a bit overeager about his beliefs, culinary and religious alike. The whole night had left her under the impression than despite his candor on the questions she asked, there were a lot of things unsaid especially surrounding his upbringing. 

She knew he had siblings, part of Eden’s Gate as well, and that his whole life now revolted around it. He seemed too perfect to be truth and when the night was over, she found herself wanting this wasn't just a one time thing. 

"I had a really great time," she said taking her phone out of her purse to check the time and dial for Kim. 

"It was a pleasure-- no, a delight, to have you with me tonight and I hope is not a bold assumption to think this was not a one time only thing-- or am I wrong?"

Rook's heart pounded heavily in her chest. "No, you’re not," she said with a soft smile. 

This man was certainly in his own league.  When her eyes finally fell to her lockscreen, she bit back a scream. It was 2:00 a.m. 

Probably seeing the distress on her face, John leaned forward, a hand placed over hers. "Is something wrong? "

"It's-- it's 2:00 in the morning!" she yelped, "I can't -- damn, I can't call Kim right now, it'd be so rude."

He huffed a short laugh. "Don't worry, darling. I'll take you there."

He stood up, offering her a hand that she took quickly, thinking about how inconsiderate she'd been with the Ryes. At least she had her own key. 

"Thank you, so much, I don't -- I don't wanna bother you though, it's quite far."

"Nonsenses, my dear. It's my pleasure."

She hadn't realized he was still holding her hand, when he stopped right at the threshold of the house. 

"I know--" He chuckled, and cleared his throat, clearly nervous, and Rook's knees bucked at his proximity, "I know I have no right asking this of you, but-- may I kiss you, Rook?" 

There was a slight waver in his otherwise confident request, Rook found endearing. She would've been lying if she said she hadn't toyed with the idea more and more as the night progressed, imagining the scrape of his beard over her chin, the hard press of his mouth over hers-- 

"I'd very much like that," Rook answered, thanking her stars she wasn't croaking out of pure nervousness. 

She felt her cheeks burning as he closed the distance between them, painfully slow, blue eyes delving into hers as if to pry into her soul. 

His hand slid up, thumbing at her jaw, fingers resting against her neck, warm and gentle. Rook's heart galloped when he leaned in, not diverting her eyes from those magnetizing blues. Her breath came in shallow exhales when finally his lips brushed hers, soft and slightly damp. Tentatively first, shy eagerness that untethered with every second passed. 

Rook closed her eyes, taking in the sensations, flitting and stark, careening through her. Kissing someone hadn't felt like this in a long time if not ever. A kiss capable of send jolts of pure exhilaration and new-formed vertigo to the farest corner of her being. She could feel every inch of his chest pressed to hers, warm and solid, his tongue sliding along the seams of her mouth, and every movement drove her further away from heartache, further away from the feeling of hollowness. So quickly, so effectively. It felt so right. And it was scary. 

She broke the kiss, gauging the impact of how screwed up she was. 

"Is everything alright?" John asked, lips swollen, breathing coming out in small puffs. The whole sight and the pitch of his rough voice wreaking havoc on Rook's gut. 

"Perfectly." She allowed herself a genuine smile that he promptly returned, holding her hand and finally guiding her to the black SUV parked at the garage. 

"Thank you for that, my dear," he said with a pitch that made her half-formed hopes, gain reality. "Now, let's take you home."

Hope County looked beautiful and daunting at night. Dark blue scattered with silver glimmer of distant stars.

Sitting at John's side Rook felt alive. She could even say she forgave David. She didn't care at all about it anymore, because if it meant coming here, and coming here meant meeting John, then it wasn't all tragedy. 

Living here was going to be perfect, and she was going to seize every second of it. In that moment John turned his head to look at her and she was struck by the sheer glee waving back at her from those clear blue pools. A light squeeze of her hand as a silent reassurance. 

Of what? Rook wasn't sure yet, but she was determined to find out.

[letterboxd]

Demented Suburbia.

Greener Grass writer-director-stars Jocelyn DeBoer and Dawn Luebbe share their favorite films while pontificating on extreme politeness, John Waters and The Swimmer.

New indie comedy Greener Grass is not the Netflix marijuana documentary Grass is Greener, but you could be forgiven for making that mistake after the directors of the former gave out free marijuana at a recent outdoor screening, according to their friend Jim Cummings (who makes a cameo in the film, and lurks on Letterboxd).

It’s been a case of watch-and-learn for other up-and-coming filmmakers, as Jocelyn DeBoer and Dawn Luebbe have stormed the 2019 festival scene with their utterly weird and wonderfully bonkers debut feature. Nobody is doing red carpet lewks like them, nobody else is handing out free weed (that we know of), and nobody else has made a film quite like theirs. Attracting comparisons to the films of David Lynch, Anna Biller and Tim Burton, but utterly at home in its own creepily perfect world, Greener Grass is the WTF-is-up-with-white-people film America deserves right now.

And it’s the culmination of years of creative growth for DeBoer and Luebbe, friends and Upright Citizens Brigade veterans, whose suburban moms Jill and Lisa first appeared in the Paul Briganti-directed short of the same name (for which they won the 2016 SXSW Special Jury Award for Recognition for Writing). DeBoer and Luebbe stepped into the directing chairs for The Arrival, another short exploring demented suburbia, while developing Greener Grass for television.

When a series failed to eventuate, they spun Jill and Lisa’s world into the feature film, landing on the unforgettable location of Peachtree City, Alabama, a real town built for the golf-cart lifestyle. Greener Grass hit the spot for many Letterboxd members at its Sundance premiere: “Just what I needed after seeing so many dark films!” was Alicia Malone’s reaction. “Unlike anything I've ever seen but … tackles ideas I have never been more familiar with,” wrote Karsten.

The story kicks off when Lisa compliments Jill on her newest baby and Jill, following suburban rules of politeness, hands the baby over to Lisa to raise. This is far from the strangest thing that will happen to a child in Greener Grass.

We needed to know where this wild duo get their filmmaking inspiration from. When we spoke with DeBoer and Luebbe they were in “high heaven”, having just held the LA premiere of Greener Grass.

Lisa, Dennis, their son Bob, their adopted daughter Madison (now Paige), and their newborn soccer ball, in a family portrait from ‘Greener Grass’.

What were some of the real-life ‘greener grass’ moments that inspired your film? Dawn Luebbe: There’s one story which Jocelyn tells about her aunt who was at a dinner party one night. She was in the kitchen talking to the host and complimented them on her apron—“that’s a cute apron!”—and the host took it off and said it “you must have it, take my apron.” At once she was like, “oh no, I just like it, I don’t need it,” and the host insisted and wouldn’t drop it. So that night Jocelyn’s aunt left with that apron. Of course, that’s just a very small example of politeness taken to the extreme. We took that general vibe and added to it and really blew it out.

Jocelyn DeBoer: I feel like we experience this at restaurants too. Dawn and I are from the Midwest, so we have a problem where no-one ever really wants to eat the last bite of something that’s shared. I do remember one experience where I was on a double-date with some acquaintances I didn’t know so well and we were eating sushi. Someone had those crispy rice things that have some spicy tuna on top and when the waiter brought it out, one of them fell to the floor. Our friend just picked it up and said “10 second rule!”. The waiter felt bad and offered to bring new ones and we were saying, “Yes, get the new sushi. Don’t eat that one off the floor!” But the person didn’t want to make the waiter feel bad and ate it right in front of them. I thought, ‘this is a Greener Grass moment for sure!’.

You’ve said elsewhere that you tried to avoid referencing other films in the development of yours, but can you tell us some films that you love, that peddle in the same story area of ‘demented suburbia’? JD: We always admit that we were watching Twin Peaks together at the time we were making our short, so there’s no denying that David Lynch is an inspiration to us. Mulholland Drive, of course. Blue Velvet, too. The two of us just love John Waters, he rocks.

DL: We love how John Waters satirizes suburbia but he also clearly has such love and adoration for it too. It’s our dream to strike the same balance.

JD: Yeah, we’re laughing with the people we grew up with, not just at them.

DL: I would say also Edward Scissorhands was another movie that was a point of reference in terms of the bright pastel color-block world, with this element of darkness filtering in.

JD: We love satires like Brazil, the visual comedy especially. We both loved that surreal world. Luis Buñuel, of course, with The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie, has the sketch-like aspects in a narrative film we wanted to do. We could just go on!

Jill (Jocelyn DeBoer) and Marriott (Janicza Bravoin) in a scene from ‘Greener Grass’.

Greener Grass technically has a lot in common with great horror films—one of our members, Sara, writes: “This reminded me so much of Halloween with the use of voyeurism and the John Carpenter-esque score… Suburban moms are ten times scarier than Michael Myers”. So since it’s Hallowe’en, tell us your favorite, go-to horror films. JD: I don’t know if this counts as a Hallowe’en movie but I love Rosemary’s Baby. That and The Shining come to mind first.

DL: Those two very much for me too. You know, I have to admit that maybe until about five years ago, I thought I was not a fan of horror. I feel a little not in the best position to speak to that. I tried very much to cram in what I can and then I discovered I actually love horror movies.

JD: The funny thing is that no-one loves true crime more than Dawn!

DL: Yes, true crime is my greatest passion.

Which film turned you onto horror, Dawn? DL: I actually think it was Rosemary’s Baby. I saw that and thought ‘this is very scary and I love it’. This is more recent, but Get Out, too. I found the marriage of comedy and horror to just be incredible and the visuals in that movie, to have such a sense of cinematic comedy-horror, just blew my mind.

You gave some of the best lines to the child actors in Greener Grass. What was your approach to working with them to capture the absurd spirit of the film? DL: That’s so nice! We absolutely love Julian Hilliard, who plays Julian, and Asher Miles Fallica, who plays Bob. From the second we saw their audition tape, they so got the tone, the characters, and they just jumped off the screen for us. They’re so mature in a way. They understood the comedy and the tone in a way we did not anticipate.

JD: They took their roles so seriously. One story we love about Julian is how he had to fall in the pool and we shot that very early on. We told him we want him to fall just like a plank and we’re showing him YouTube videos of planking so he was practising it in the hotel pool. We went on the day to shoot that scene, and the take that’s in the movie is our first and only take. He just nailed it perfectly. A couple weeks later, we went to shoot the first scene of the movie, which is when he falls in the soccer field. We go to shoot it and Julian starts to fall in a hard plank, just like he did in the pool but on the grass. We were like, “wait, no no no, you don’t have to fall like that!” and he just looked at us and went, “but that’s how Julian falls!”

What streaming platform is Kids with Knives on? Seriously: we’re fans of films that build a complete world within, including the fake shows and commercials you see playing on television sets. Can you tell us some inside stories of developing those? JD: Those were so much fun for us to work on.

DL: These kids were just so incredibly enthusiastic and Jocelyn had them circle round and asked them what kind of gymnastics can you do, let’s see what you got. And then one after the other they were doing the splits, back-handstands… We thought, ‘this is great—Gymnastics and Knives!’ We should have been filming that.

We’ve really enjoyed showing your trailer to people for that ‘what-the-fuck’ reaction. What’s a bizarre film that you love to recommend to people? (We asked this same question to Daniel Scheinert who directed Swiss Army Man and The Death of Dick Long and he said Greener Grass.) JD: Wait, are you kidding?! That’s so nice, oh my gosh! The first film that came to mind is Dogtooth. I’m always curious to talk to people about that one. Dawn, what about The Swimmer? Have you seen The Swimmer? You have to. It’s the Burt Lancaster vehicle.

DL: It’s about a man who crosses his county by swimming across every swimming pool. I’ll just say: what you think the movie is in the beginning turns out to be very different to what the movie is. The protagonist changes quite a bit.

JD: One of the coolest things about how we’re travelling the world promoting Greener Grass is how we get to talk to people afterwards and they go, “Oh the movie reminds me of this, it reminds me of that.” It was the director of Fantastic Fest who told us we have to watch The Swimmer. We watched it on the plane and there is a scene where a man is kind of obsessed with the filtration system in his pool. Everyone is talking about how great their pools are the whole movie, so yes, this is like our movie, thank you.

DL: There’s also a passionate monologue about a hot-dog wagon that’s the best thing that ever happened in cinema.

JD: It’s fantastic!

What are your go-to comfort movies? How many times do you think you’ve seen them? DL: Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory I’ve probably seen 500 times.

JD: I really love Dumb & Dumber. I’m also a big comfort watcher of the Sex and the City TV show but I don’t recommend the movies!

What’s a film you wish you had made? JD: I want to say Roma, but that movie couldn’t be more different from Greener Grass. I loved it.

DL: For me, I’ll say Waiting for Guffman. It has such a special place in my heart. I just remember when I was probably fifteen or sixteen seeing that movie in Nebraska and laughing so hard my stomach hurt and thinking, ‘wow, movies can be like this?’

What’s a beloved movie you couldn’t get into? JD: Now I just feel bad talking about other films in a bad way. I’m really glad this film exists—but personally I had trouble getting into the Wonder Woman movie. I think there’s a lot of cool things about it. Maybe I’m just over superhero movies.

Dennis and Jill share an extra-marital kiss in ‘Greener Grass’.

You told a journalist at Sundance that you “did have one storyline that you pulled late in the game in fear that it might be taking something too far. We still fight about that decision and Dawn is wrong”. Are you prepared to tell us that twist now?! JD: I don’t know why I said that because we just set ourselves up to be asked that all the time. We are not going to tell you what it is, but we can tell you one storyline that Dawn and I actually loved that we ended up cutting before going into production. In a previous draft of ours, Buck, Kim Ann’s husband, who she divorces and he starts to become a cowboy, shows up at a kid’s birthday party with a new girlfriend and all the women are gossiping about, “Oh no, did you hear Buck has a new girlfriend, her name is Pamela,” and, well, she’s just hair. It turns out when we meet Pamela, she is just a very large, floating blowout. At this time Buck was also trying to sell a jet-ski because Pamela can’t do wind. It was a favorite bit of ours.

We did a few script readings with our comedy writer friends and paid attention to what people laughed at and what people talked about afterwards. No-one ever mentioned Pamela. They didn’t say she was confusing, they didn’t say they liked her nor that they didn’t like her. And we were, like, for just a character who’s all hair to not be spoken about at all, it’s not a good sign and we should lose her. Since then, we had people who read those scripts and [said]: “Why is Pamela not in the movie?!” and we’re now “Well, damn. We don’t know!”

DL: Maybe we’ll make a movie about Pamela one day.

You were working with such a great cast of improvisers. How did you strike a balance between what you had on the page, and what they could bring on set; in what ways did they surprise and delight you? Not only your actors, but for the artists on set such as your costume and production designers. DL: We were just so blessed to work with these incredible improvisers; Mary Holland (Kim Ann), D’Arcy Carden (the school-teacher, Miss Human), Neil Casey (Lisa’s husband, Dennis) and Beck Bennett (Jill’s husband, Nick). It was such a gift. I would say the movie is probably 95% scripted, so it was pretty close to the script. There were a number of improv moments in the final cut that we absolutely loved. One of my favorite lines in the movie is when Kim Ann is sitting on her porch and Jill arrives and hands her a taco dip and Kim Ann asks “is it seven layers?” and Jill admits it’s only five and Kim Ann says “put it on the floor!” That line is totally improv’d by Mary in the moment. She’s just a dream.

JD: It’s true, our designers added so many things. It was something that we talked about from the very beginning, that we want there to be comedy in every frame of the movie. We love having Easter eggs. We found one after the SXSW screening. Dennis tells a joke at the soccer field and everyone laughs way too hard and he fancies himself a comedian. In the scene in Lisa’s living room when the kids are watching Kids with Knives and Dennis is sleeping, we found that the production designer Leigh Poindexter added a VHS tape that’s sitting on the coffee table that’s just labeled ‘Comedy’, as if Dennis has been studying comedy for his joke, which we thought was so funny.

Our costume designer Lauren Oppelt added so many little touches, but one we really loved: Nick is always wearing our family’s color, pink, and a very gender-normative blue. After Nick and Jill get divorced, he shows up in all beige to go get more pool water, but for the little logo on his polo Lauren embroidered a sad face. It was so funny. We loved that touch.

Finally, a question we’ve been asking filmmakers all year: which film made you want to become filmmakers? JD: It’s so, so long ago but I think for me it was Memento. I saw that when it first came out in the theater, with my Dad. I was just a child then but it blew my mind.

DL: Welcome to the Dollhouse. That was the first true dark comedy I saw where I was deeply disturbed by how much I was laughing. I want to make something like that too.

Related Letterboxd Lists

Sinister Suburbia: what’s really going on in that neighborhood?

Creepy Teenage Suburbia: “settings not limited to but including: high school hallways, proms, corn fields, religious dictatorships, convenience stores, football pitches, family compounds, back gardens.”

Films Directed by Women: Vanessa’s comprehensive—and growing—list of films directed by women.

‘Greener Grass’ is an IFC Midnight release. The film is out now in selected US cinemas and on streaming platforms. All production stills courtesy IFC Films.

[globrights]

iasip s3 rated by macdennis content

The Gang Finds a Dumpster Baby: Dennis chides Mac for littering and not caring about the environment... Mac agrees to check out the global warming movie he watched bc Dennis kept talking about it even though everyone else was annoyed by it... they really are in love huh. 5.5/10

The Gang Gets Invincible: Mac and Dennis decide to try out for the Eagles because they want to figure out who’s the better football player. “Lincoln Field, baby!” This should be a generic ‘Two Bros Compete Over Sports Thing’ plot but Mac and Dennis are like... really gay about it. They mock Dee together for wanting to try out too and they’re being very misogynistic but the way they laugh at her is so cute. Mac leans in very closely to Dennis’ face when talking about how Dee could embarrass them in terms of running stamina. Mac and Dennis have a whole conversation with their dicks out as they stand over the Lincoln Field and Mac looks at... he looks at Dennis’ dick and asks him if he’s done peeing. And Dennis says no because Mac standing next to him and talking to him makes him nervous,,, okay,,, Mac and Dennis bicker over Mac’s makeup skills and Dennis’ cheekbones. Mac and Dennis sit together on the bus. They’re cutely excited about getting to see Donovan McNabb (even though they don’t) and they’re both... so bad at running. We stan unfit losers who cant even run for ten minutes!! “I liked your form on that, and I liked how you went before the whistle.” “Goddamn right!” “Nice!” Jesus Christ do these two even remember they’re supposed to be competing? Dennis essentially verbally sucked Mac’s dick for tackling his sister and told him he liked his FORM I know I quoted that but like... y’all seeing this... Also can we talk about how Dennis had this running monologue going on while he was running in the field to catch a football was this: “I’m going to make Mac look so bad. My form is perfect–“ like why is Mac always his first thought like it came before his narcissistic thoughts AND his throwaway comp het thought... sigh... 9/10

Dennis and Dee’s Mom is Dead: Mac and Dennis not realizing how gay they are is so fucking funny... Mac banging everyone’s sister but also calling them gross? Comp het rights! Dennis talking to men trying to invite them over to their party is literal actual flirting and he is so stupid for it. “Bro, aw, I just had the most perfect blonde guy slip right through my fingers. I mean, I had him in the palm of my hand and then... he was gone, you know what I mean? I mean, this guy would have been perfect for you. What’s up with this beefcake? Is he coming to the party, or what?” I can’t believe Dennis told Mac this. This sounds literally like they’re gays trying to find love in this world. Give me a break maybe!! Mac and Dennis having no idea that they were waving around a dick flyer that they literally cut themselves is peak metaphor for how in denial about their sexualities they were. Mac and Dennis get up to PEAK gay activity during their party because of how excessively Dennis touches Mac, he literally says “oh yeah, baby, nice one!” when Mac punches a glass frame, breaking it, and taking a random apple and biting into it. He’s so proud of Mac for the dumbest of shit. “You’re gonna tell everybody how we’re like those guys from Jackass, how we like to smash stuff and shove shit up our asses.” “That’s right! You’re gonna get so much shit shoved up your ass tonight!” Oh my god? Oh my god! Nothing says love like throwing knives at college students and basically putting them through emotional and physical torture! That’s just how it is! The symbolism and just everything in this episode pushes this up to a shocking 8.5/10

The Gang Gets Held Hostage: “Come here, come here, come here! I think I got a plan to get us out of this, but I need you to do the destroying thing. Can you?” “I’m a great destroyer.” “Are you kidding me, dude? You’re a born smasher.” “Yes! I’m a born smasher.” “I’m gonna work a different angle with the girl.” “Work those pecs.” “Yeah, exactly.” “Bump it.” “All right.” “Dennis.” “What?” “I love you.” 9/10

The Aluminum Monster Vs. Fatty McGoo: The whole “Dennis has an announcement!” scene is so cute and so funny. Other than that though, Mac and Dennis don’t get up to much, but Dennis does lie to him about dress orders which pushes Mac into Frank’s arms where he learns how to run a sweatshop. 4/10

The Gang Solves the North Korea Situation: Dennis wearing Mac’s duster with no shirt and the way Mac was staring at him? Good shit! 7/10

The Gang Sells Out: Mac and Dennis both somehow managed to get each half of Charlie’s shares in the bar. Charlie gets confused between ‘wood’ and ‘wooed’ and when Dennis tries to explain it to him Mac gives him a little “Dennis, just...” and Dennis goes “It’s a waste of time?” and like. That’s just really domestic of them actually. 6/10

Frank Sets Sweet Dee On Fire: Nothing v specific here but Mac calls Dennis a ‘club kid’ which is cute. 2/10

Sweet Dee’s Dating A Person: “You do have a great voice. You have, you know what man? You have an excellent voice.” The look of absolute BETRAYAL Dennis gives Mac when he doesn’t let him be in his band... wow. “We need a new front man.” “Right. You want someone with a good voice.” “Yes.” “Who’s attractive.” “Yes.” “Someone with charisma.” “Yes.” Somehow they both bottomed in this scene and Dennis wearing glasses is so fucking stupid. This episode would’ve gotten a perfect score if Mac didn’t kick Dennis out of the band for having slutty hips. Mac, those slutty hips are everything you’ve ever wanted in life. Wake up. 9.5/10

Mac is a Serial Killer: Dennis seems to REALLY take notice when it comes to Mac’s comings and goings from the apartment... His reactions to Mac getting laid seems like fake enthusiasm to me :/ 3/10

Dennis Looks Like a Registered Sex Offender: “Listen, I need your help, okay? You’re part owner of the bar, and you’re probably the only person that Mac listens to, and I need you to talk to him.” God Dee really out here knowing the truth huh. She really out here knowing everything, huh? 7/10

The Gang Gets Whacked Part 1: Mac and Dennis the cute little work couple who tries to fix the electricity and both having differing but wrong opinions about how to do it! Mac and Dennis the cute little work couple who ditch work to sit outside their bar in lawn chairs and drink beer together! Mac and Dennis the dumbass work couple who can’t understand the things people say to them because they drink a lot! 9/10

The Gang Gets Whacked Part 2: Mac slaps Dennis and rescues him from his life of prostitution. Wow that’s like a line straight from a very weird mafia AU. 7/10

Bums Making a Mess All Over the City: The way Dennis looks at Mac when he says “In fact, Special Agent Bauer and I plan to take care of a few things today...” Mm... Conspiring with your boyfriend and twin sister while holding your cat as you plan to take down your dad truly is the life huh. 5/10 because it was a great fucking look

The Gang Dances Their Asses Off: One of the most ridiculous things in this episode is the fact that Frank ranked Dennis and Mac second and third best after himself. Some other ridiculous things? Mac and Charlie’s talk about Mac’s... cream... which led to Mac saying this golden line “I’m always putting my cream all over his face.” Mac and Dennis have a dance off where Mac mimes himself sucking Dennis off. Repressed rights! It’s a crime that we didn’t get to see Mac and Dennis slow dance this episode, but still I’m gonna give it a 10/10, especially because Dennis and Mac had 25 pound kegs hanging off their chests and Dennis said “Come on, man! Give me some of that liquid hydraulic shit!” it sounds dirty somehow, anyway, Dennis wrapped his arms around Mac and they both fell to the ground. Very sexy.

[purplesurveys]

422

Do you enjoy watching birth vlogs? I’ve never watched this particular kind of vlog. I’ve seen photo stories of births on Facebook though and while I find women fucking metal for going through childbirth, I’m rather squeamish and I feel like crying when I see the process :((( Would you rather paint on canvas or wood? I’d...rather not paint at all. I’m really not artistic. What regret keeps coming back to haunt you daily? I have this one class that I regret taking this semester just because there were two available sections, and I still ended up in the section with the shittier professor. It’s a pain in my ass every Wednesday and I can’t wait to give a review for this teacher. Do you miss someone? Always, but I’m on depression break at the moment and I just want to be alone for 7 days. If you could cure yourself of one allergy, what would it be? I don’t have any.

Do you know anyone else with your name? I know two people. When I was still applying for AIESEC, I was surprised that there was a sudden abundance of Robyns haha. There’s never any Robyns anywhere. Have you felt like the main character in a book was you? I’m not a big reader, so no. Which country's flag is your favorite? Nepal just because it went ‘fuck it’ on how flags traditionally should look like. What would you be most afraid of happening if you were to visit Africa? Getting arrested??? I’m down for anything but I can’t get in trouble, because I’m a big fucking baby when it comes to crime lmaooooo. Where are you tempted to move to sometimes? Canada. Have you ever hiked a mountain? Nope, but would love to someday. Who seems like they have the perfect life? People who graduate summa cum laude while juggling multiple orgs and have both a tight-knit family and a love life??? How???????? Do you ever take pictures of negative moments? I have. I still have them on my phone.  I don’t see the point of taking nor keeping them if they just make me upset every time I see them but since I have a photo hoarding problem, I can’t bring myself to get rid of them. Do you think it would be a good idea to post photos of negative moments as well as positive? It’s different for everyone. Some might want to capture their negative times to remind them that they went through it and they’re a stronger person now. Some might prefer to block negative stuff from their mind as soon as they overcome it. I’m the latter. What time zone are you in? Idk how the format is...but I use the Hong Kong one. Would you ever post a picture of yourself crying on social media? No. ^Why or why not? It’s just something that would make me feel uncomfortable. I don’t even like crying in front of people other than Gab, so even more would I not want something permanent like a photo to capture me crying. Do you like dark blue jeggings or light blue jeggings better? Light blue seems to be the trend recently. What color is the rim of your whiteboard? I don’t own one. Do you have trouble staying organized? I’m generally organized, but there are certain things that I can never seem to maintain, yes; like I can never keep my closet organized. And my school bag. What was the last thing you cried about? I had a short breakdown in the car last Friday because I had to usher for an event and run errands all day while the weather was RIDICULOUSLY humid and I could feel the sweat seeping in my pants for 8 whole hours, and then when Gabie came to visit she didn’t do the one thing I asked her to do. I exploded by the end of the day and gave myself ample time to cry. Funny how the universe works though - in the middle of my episode, the known dogs that roam in my college skipped over to my car. I had some leftover lunch so I fed them and I instantly felt better. Have you ever held a newborn baby? I have, but he started squirming and crying and I almost dropped him onto the ground. I was 9 and I was assigned to watch over the baby. I’ve never held an infant since. Do you know anyone who has twins? Yes. I was surprised to see my classmate from comm research posting photos of her and her twin on Facebook. Would you rather look older or younger than your age? Younger, and that’s how it works so I’m satisfied.  Related story: I went to get my driver’s license renewed a couple of weeks ago. The guy in charge made me fill up a bunch of forms and made me do unnecessary shit in the process (i.e. made me go ACROSS THE MALL to have my ID xeroxed) because he thought I was a student driver and that I was getting my license for the first time. I would have gotten my license SO MUCH QUICKER, but he gave me the process meant for student permits. I was annoyed, but in the end 1) he apologized profusely, and 2) I just took it to mean I look much younger than 21 which I can be happy about. Where do you buy calendars from? I don’t buy calendars because I already have one on my laptop and phone. Do you shop at the dollar store often? We don’t have dollar stores. We don’t even use dollars. What does your name rhyme with? Bitchin’. Are you following in the career path of any family members? As far as I know, no. I think I’m the first to take up journalism. My maternal grandfather’s side are all very...lawyerish and diplomat-ish though, and I guess that’s kind of related to journ and the fact that I’m taking up history, psychology, and political science courses. Have you ever met anyone who talks like a robot? THAT PROF I TALKED ABOUT A FEW QUESTIONS AGO URGH. He’s probably like 25 but I wish he would resign. He’s awful. What is your favorite country in Europe? I don’t have one. Probably one with a lot of history in it. Name something unique about your town. It has a lower and upper part, haha. I’ve never heard anyone else talk about their province and if they live in the lower/upper part of it. Who does all the chores in your home? My mom. She prefers it that way. Do you feel you missed out on a lot as a kid? I believe so. I was exposed to a lot of nasty shit, so while I was pretty privileged and went to a good school, had all the cool toys, and kept up to date with the cool TV shows, I had to grow up earlier than the kids around me. What is your best kept secret (or one big secret you have right now)? Kinda the point of having a secret. Do you have anyone you can tell your secrets to? I know I can trust my friends, but I’m generally most comfortable telling my girlfriend. ^If so, who? ^ Who was that best friend you ever had? If this question was meant to be in past tense, then it would be Sofie. I really, really hope she’s doing well and that she’s happy where she is. Do people appreciate you and accept you for who you are? I hope they do? What color is your laptop? Silver. What class would you like to repeat over again just for fun? Any art studies and history class I’ve taken. I also had this one class where all we did was have oral presentations/monologues, and it was so much fun, even for an introvert. Passed that class like a breeze. It helped that I had an amazing professor who believed in each of us and knew that we all had stories to tell and share. What are five careers you think you'd be good at? Researcher, analyst...anything that entals organization and data, really. Are you thriving in your life right now? We’re all thriving. We all just have our own paces. :) Who do you have moral support from? College friends, Angela, and Gabie. Who encourages you to go after your dreams? There’s this shirt that says “I work hard so my dog can have a better life,” and that pretty much hits the nail on the head. Do you have people in your family who want you dead? Wow. List all the antiques you have in your room. None. What Bratz doll resembles you the most? I’m not sure about resembles because I guarantee you no human being looks like a Bratz doll, but Jade had always resonated with me. She always seemed like the spunkiest one out of the four. Do you have a walk-in closet? No, I’m not really interested in one. What was the last thing you ate? Krispy Kreme doughnut with Nutella filling. What would you do to save money for your wedding? Work my ass off. I absolutely need to have my dream wedding. Have you ever been manipulated, lied to, abused, or controlled? Sure. Are you against plagiarism? ...Aren’t we all?

[iheartgrayson]

fortune cookies | grayson dolan

fortune cookies | grayson dolan

💘FLUFFY💘

SUMMARY: YOU FOUND OUT YOU’RE PREGNANT AND FILM GRAYSON’S REACTION FOR HIS FANS.

WC: 2.6K

I took a rather deep breath and focused my attention at the camera that Cameron was holding towards me and clicked start. I was anxious and terrified at first since I was camera shy, never been in one before and of course I have never done something like that before alone. I saw Cameron making me a sign to talk so with another breath I started.

“Hey, guys. Y/N, here. I know this might seem extremely odd for you and rather confusing but I promise you that this video is very important for us and for you all. I like to say that Grayson and Ethan have no idea that I will be doing this and I want to thank Cameron for helping me film it. Also, please forgive me if I seem weird and funny. That is the first time that I am talking to a camera and it’s really weird for me too.” I started and gave a weak smile towards it.

“Since I started dating Grayson I was welcomed to this fandom with open arms and I find it really important since you have such a big impact to his life some myself as long as I am besides Grayson and Ethan of course I will be happy to call you my family too, because that’s what you are guys. A family. So, whatever I am about to share on this video is as much important to you as it for me. Before, I say so I would like to say that the matter is rather crucial, important and it will be life changing. For us and for you too, probably.”

I looked down at my fingers that hold the small box and sighed. I lifted it to the camera view and gave a small sad smile. 

“For you who might not understand what this is lwt me explain it to you. It’s a pregnancy box. Yes, you heard it right. It’s a pregnancy box. And you will be asking why the hell do you want it for? Well, I have a big feeling that I might be pregnant which is socking for you and for me. Some of you might say that what the hell did that happen or you guys are young and all or you should have be protective and all these stuff so I will explain myself and answer them all.”

I made myself more comfortable at the stool that I was seating on the bathroom. I crossed my legal and hugged myself, a gesture i always made while I was shy and nervous at the same time. 

“Making love is not a crime and I want you all to remember it. It’s something that God created and it brings happiness and pleasure to a person and of course age doesn’t matter when both partners decide to take that step in their relationship. Me and Grayson, I know we are only seventeen, but felt both ready to complete that part too. Before you started accusing us as irresponsible and careless I want to defend myself and say that we were indeed careful, responsible and protective every time but as you all might know protection doesn’t always work and only has 90 percent chance of working. And this time it might be of that ten percent which didn’t work.”

I stopped again making a big agonizing pause and felt myself suffocating. I felt a hand on top of mine and I knew that it was Cameron’s. “Hey, you got this.” She encouraged me and slightly patted my cheek and I smiled.

I looked up at the waiting camera trying to finish my monologue. “I want to state that I am against abortion and adoption. I love babies to the fullest and you can tell that I have a baby fever since I was a child. Whatever this stick shows me today, positive or negative, the result would be the same for me. And I have a feeling that Grayson has the same belief. We never talked about having babies any tine soon but I know God has a plan for every single one of us so I will stick with this. I will go and get done this and let you rest from my boring and stupid voice. So, let’s do this.”

Cameron walked outside and turned off the camera while I did my business. After I was done she came back inside and we stood by the large bath tub and she returned on the camera. I put the stick further away from me nearer Cam and tried to focus on the red light on the camera. “I finished with it and now we have to wait for five minutes before the results will be ready. The stick will say ‘pregnant’ or 'not pregnant’. I got that one so there was no mistakes with the lines.“ I stopped and waited. 

My hands were shaking like crazy and I felt my breath stopping on my throat and drops running down my forehead. It was the slowest time that has ever passed to my whole life. I never been more anxious about something in my life and the fact that I was recording it make it more uncomfortable.

"So, the five minutes passed. It is probably ready.” I leaned down to grab it and a breath that I was holding was left my body. I closed my eyes and took another deep breath and with shaken hands I brought it to my face. I looked down at it and my eyes watered immediately.

I hide my face behind my palms and started crying. “What does it say?” Cameron asked me but I didn’t answer her. Instead, I cried even louder and sniffed. “Y/N, hey.” She placed the camera on top of the sink and hugged me tightly. I felt her kissing my head as I let all the tears run down.

After I took a moment to regain my strength, I wiped my tears and laughed a bit. “I know I am crying right now but I am so happy.” I said and showed the stick on the camera. “I know that it says pregnant but I am really happy. I am so happy that I am going to have a baby with the man I love so much. This baby is a blessing for me. I am so freaking happy.” I screamed as me and Cameron laughed and she hugged me again.

“Well, congratulations.” She said and I nodded as I wiped my tears and smiled.

“Thank you. Oh my God, I can’t believe it.” I sighed and turned back to the camera. “Now, for the next part I need to announce the news to Gray and then to Ethan too.”

“How are you planning doing it?”

“Oh, I believe I found the perfect way. So, Cameron do you want to bake some fortunate cookies?” I smirked and raised an eyebrow as she nodded her head and smiled.

“Can’t wait.”

I was in the bedroom me and Grayson were sharing and tried to find a good spot to hide the camera so he wouldn’t notice. He was in the bathroom taking a bath and he would take a while in there so I had as much time as I wanted. I choose his mini piano he had on the corner of the room and placed the camera as far behind as possible. It wouldn’t be a problem being there, Grayson never looks around the room and the fact that it was a small cam helped a lot.

I put it there and pressed play while I went back to the kitchen to prepare myself. Earlier this morning when I found out I was pregnant, Cameron helped me baked some fortunate cookies since she knew the recipe just perfect and helped me find things to write down for Grayson.

We end up baking ten cookies and so we decide to write each one by five and of course I wrote also the one that saying I am pregnant and all. I had a feeling that Cameron wrote mean things the most since she liked to tease the boys and since their reaction was funny to say at least.

I put them in order while I placed the one last. I thought to give him one by one so he wouldn’t go straight to it.

I grabbed them on my hands and placed the white pregnancy stick on the pocket of my hoodie so I could show it to him as evidence. I walked back to the room and I saw him changing in comfortable clothes while wiping his wet hair with a towel.

The sight in front of me was extremely hot and gorgeous and had me drooling like an idiot. I cleared my throat and smiled as I passed Grayson and put the cookies on the bed and sat down. He turned to look at me and after he was done putting on a t-shirt he came and sat beside me.

“Hey, baby, how was your day?” He questioned me as he kissed my lips and looked at my eyes.

“Well, I can say that it was very good. Almost amazing.”

“Yeah? How so?” He raised his eyebrows at me and I smiled as I caressed his cheek.

“Well, you will see. So, I had an idea this morning.” I started as I straighten my body and faced him fully. I turned over to see the camera and I saw that everything was perfect so I turned back to Grayson.

“Will you tell me?”

“Yeah, of course.” As I was about to explain the door burst open and I saw Ethan coming inside. “hey.”

“I was bored so I decided to come and hang out together. I hope its okay with you guys.“ Ethan stated and we nodded our head. It was more preferable. I wouldn’t need to say to him the news later. I could record his reaction too and have it share the news of the first Dolan baby to both twins at the same time.

"Of course. Sit next to your brother. I was about to say that I had an idea this morning which was to bake some fortune cookies for him since I was bored and we never done something like this before. Also, it had been quite some time since I had done something sweet for my boyfriend. So, here they are. I want to state that Cameron helped me and she wrote five of them so please don’t put the blame on me if you see anything mean at any one of them. So, bare with me.” I explained and I saw as Grayson smiled at my gesture and leaned down to kiss me.

“That is so nice and sweet from you baby girl. I can’t wait to open them.” He said.

“Cameron was here this morning? I thought she was out with a friend.” Ethan replied confused. From the whole thing it was that particular statement that made him confused. He was such an adorable idiot to be honest.

“Yeah, with me. She was not lying. Anyway, Grayson do you want to start?” I asked him and he nodded his head. I picked up the first and placed it on his waiting hand. He broke it and read the paper.

“Aw, so sweet.”

“Please, read them aloud.”

“Okay! You are the cheese to my macaroni. That is so delicious. Thank you baby.”

“Next one.”

“If people talk behind your back then just fart. Oh my God, Cameron.” We all laughed at this.

“Third.”

“A sensual full body massage is in your very near future. I hope this is true. I will be waiting for it babe.” He said and smiled. He took the next one and broke it. “ It is your good fortune to share life’s special moments with the one you love. True.”

“Those are so boring. I can’t wait to hear Cameron’s.” Ethan said as he placed his head on his hand and rolled his eyes.

“You will be hungry in thirty minutes from now.” Grayson read and nodded his head. “Already am.”

“Next one.”

“About time to get out of that cookie.”

“She didn’t have such a funny state of mind i suppose.” Ethan commented and I hit his head.

“Please shut up. Seven.”

“Behind a great man is a woman rolling her eyes. Go, Y/N.”

“Love her.” I stated and passed him another.

“You are everything I was looking for. Expect your ass smelly feet.”

“That is mine. I want to say that it’s completely true but I kind of grew to love them too?” I asked kind of socked.

“Yeah, your feet smell too.” Grayson tried to argue but he smiled and kissed my nose. “Nah, a complete lie.”

“So, two more to go.”

“Can’t wait to.” He sang and grabbed the ninth cookie. That was last one from Cameron. “I still remember that you own me ten dollars, stole my shorts and that you hit the back of car. Something terrible will happen soon.”

Ethan and I laughed our heads off. “Dude, you had it so bad.” Ethan patted his back while Grayson rolled his eyes and went to grabbed the next one but I grabbed his hand and stopped him.

“Read it carefully.”

“Roses are red, violets are blue, i have a secret and here’s the clue… what does that-?” He cut off himself when he looked at the stick on my hands. He looked at it carefully and lifted his eyes to meet mine. “What does that…?”

“Oh my God, dude.” Ethan yelled, gripping at his roots as he realized what it was.

Grayson’s eyes grew wide as they change in a green color. He grabbed the stick and looked at it carefully. He stared at it for a good amount of time, not making a noise or a move while I looked at him with a confused, waiting and worry look on my face. “Does that mean that you are… we are…. oh my God.” He said and started crying.

Were them happy or angry tears? I couldn’t say.

“Grayson, look I am-” he cut me off as he grabbed me by the face and kissed me deeply. I locked my hands around his neck as I kissed back.

“We are having a baby. I can’t fucking believe this. Ethan we are having a baby. Oh my Gosh.” Grayson said and hugged the both of us as he cried once more making me cry too as I hugged him tight. I saw them hug, I saw them smile and I saw the happiness written all over Grayson’s face.

 I was so madly in love with him that I was willing to take that step with him even in that young age. Of course, for me, age doesn’t matter at all. It doesn’t matter if you are seventeen or forty to be ready so they can have a child, all it takes is to be mature and ready deep inside to have a baby.

“Y/N, well, thank you so much.” Grayson said snapping me out of my daydream. I smiled and leaned on his arms and hugged him as tightly as I could.

“No, I want to thank you for deciding to be in that step of our life.” I kissed his lips and then hugged him again, as I smelled his scent that made me relax so fast and nake me feel comfortable. “I love you so much and I want to spend the rest of my life with you and our baby.”

“Me too, baby.”

“Also, I have made a video for this. I recorded your reaction as well me finding out the news. Do you want to see it?” I questioned him and I saw him nodding his head eagerly.

You were thankful that he was happy about this as you were. You were young and all but this was a blessing and you were happy that Grayson was the one that you were going to share this with. He was the best ans you couldn’t ask for better guy.

[3laxx]

Cola Date

When Alya finds herself on a date with the wrong guy she searches for unconventional help to get her out of this. Luckily, the cute waiter doesn't mind to help her out with a favor. And just as the glass topples over, the date changes into a completely different direction. A direction she can definitely live with, Alya decides.

Sooo this is just a fun story that I begun out of nowhere, practically. And before I could control myself, I landed at 10k words and am still not finished x) So! This is just a non-magic, aged up AU that's based on a dumb little idea I had. Alya and Marinette know each other, as well as Nino and Adrien, but otherwise there are no connections like school or anything else. Nino's family owns a restaurant (what do you mean that's not canon?) and he's helping out as a waiter there. It's just a story I begun without aiming somewhere so it's kinda random, just go with the fluff x) Also, this is set to be an entirely DJWifi centric story! But I dunno yet where it'll lead, maybe I'll just continue on it. (Also there aren’t enough DJWifi centric stories so have this one) Enjoy~

Ao3 / FF.net

The guy just wouldn’t stop talking.

He went on and on about his ex-girlfriends and how ungrateful they were. Alya suppressed rolling her eyes as he once again shifted back to his oh so awesome motorcycle that waited outside.

Not really a welcome change of topic but oh well. It was still better than listening to him brag about some girls he had ‘caught’.

Though, the topic about his girlfriends had actually kept her awake. His motorcycle was just plain boring. She stifled a yawn and overplayed it with a short nod as he explained to her how the sound of the motor felt between his legs.

A slight, tired smirk played around the corners of her mouth that he hopefully interpreted as interested curiosity, as she tried not to snort at the innuendos he was suddenly dropping. Every second word that came out of his mouth now became something different in her mind.

Maybe she could record this and make a drinking game out of it, with Marinette?

Every innuendo, a shot. Oh, they would be drunk within seconds, better not risk it.

She giggled politely and accidently boosted his ego even if her giggle had been reserved for her own thoughts, not his monologue.

Now he was shifting topics again. Next up was his manliness. Oh of course.

Well, he didn’t even look bad. He was just a snob, someone who knew exactly he’d probably get a low paid secondary model job for a local store, if he wanted to. No, his physique was okay, his looks were good and his eyes had seemed nice.

Alya should’ve known better than to trust that dating platform Mari had jokingly signed her up for, as a prank. Why she had actually kept that profile? Maybe to really find someone?

She shook her head, earning an approving look of the guy in front of her. Oh no, had she encouraged him?

He talked about how men should never wear mustaches. Oh well, if that was his opinion. And Alya honestly didn’t care what he thought was her opinion. Another tiny yawn escaped her throat and she tried to let it up sneakily, blocking her ears for a moment as she pretended to breathe through.

Her gaze swiftly flew over the restaurant before settling on the guy again. What was his name again?

Maybe she could look it up on his profile?

Nah, he wasn’t that important. She could get by with ‘you’ until he left her alone for today.

As her eyes burned a little and she had to blink a few times not to lose focus she realized she really hadn’t slept enough. Well, her studies plus internship in a local newspaper didn’t leave up much time for herself. Let alone sleeping. Why she had thought it had been a good idea to try and look for a partner?

Yeah, no idea either.

She inconspicuously checked the clock as he began of his ex-girlfriends again, counting them up like trophies. She wrinkled her nose behind her interlaced fingers, then caught herself again and propped her chin up on her hands instead of hiding her face behind her hands. It would be politer.

After all, for something this guy had to be good. And be it practice for future job interviews. Or regular interviews, after all she wanted to be a journalist someday.

He was honestly perfect practice.

Stay polite, throw in a few questions here and there, but mostly keep them monologuing. These people talked out the most secrets when being left alone in the void to fill with their ego.

He brought up poor Adeline again. She had apparently been some lost exchange student girl and he had happily helped her to his apartment to get her out of the cold. Yes of course.

Alya huffed but covered it up as a cough. He didn’t seem to notice.

Again, her gaze flew over the restaurant but this time again, as a few times before, she caught another pair of eyes looking her way. The golden eyes of the waiter seemed skeptical as he inconspicuously nodded over to the guy in front of her while continuing to do the dishes while he had nothing to do.

She shrugged, barely visible, and shook her head. The waiter nodded and turned away again, having seen another customer waving for him, not seeing how Alya deflated a little. He seemed cute.

But before the guy in front of her would get suspicious she turned back to him, nodding with a smile. He just told her how she wasn’t like other girls. Ah, nice to know.

When did she lie about having to pick up someone from somewhere? And what was it again? Her mother or something?

Oh no, she had forgotten her lie. Maybe he had, too, though.

He had most likely forgotten, actually. Was there anything else in that guy’s head than himself and his huge ego? She wondered if there would ever be. Maybe she should talk to his mother, if he had always been like this.

Once again, she thoughtlessly shook her head, willing her inner reporter to take a step back. Why would she want to meet his mother?

This time she had apparently shook her head to a bad time. His irritated glance stayed on her but it wasn’t anything that she couldn’t play off with a short “Oh no, I must’ve been somewhere else with my thoughts, I’m so sorry, what were you saying?” and he happily continued.

Again, her eyes wandered. The back of the cute waiter was turned towards her as she looked but he turned, carrying a tray of a few empty and a few full glasses to the next table to serve the people there.

This gave her an idea. She watched his hand beneath the tray, steady and calm. He must be doing this for quite some time now… Hm. But he must’ve failed before, right? Could he reproduce this authentically? Maybe she could have a faster way out than in – she checked the clock again – one and a half hours. Her internal groan was reason enough to include the cute waiter in her diabolical plan.

It didn’t take her long to find a good pause in his monologue.

“Oh, I noticed your glass was empty.”, she said in a honeyed voice, “Should I get us some new drinks?”

His eyes lit up at her supposed thoughtfulness, eagerly nodding.

“Oooooh, yes!”, he replied, “I’ll take a cola, please!”

So he at least had a few manners, that was at least something.

She nodded, taking his glass and walking up to the counter, which confused him a little since the waiter would normally get the glasses while they ordered new drinks but she had to get a silent word with him first before returning to her table. To her luck, the golden eyed waiter was behind the counter when she arrived, just mixing some new drinks.

“… So, you finally fled from the loudmouth?”, his quiet tease flew over to her while he didn’t yet look at her, probably to seemingly not have noticed her yet. She giggled under her breath, putting the two empty glasses on the counter.

“I actually need a favor.”, she replied, earning an amused side smirk from the golden eyed waiter.

“Be right back for you.”, he announced a little louder, just naturally enough for the guy to hear but not seem to obvious. While passing her the waiter slid her a notepad and a pen, probably to write down her favor. She smiled as she caught his wink, then got to writing down her favor without seeming too obvious. But the guy she was here with was eyeing his motorcycle through the window, probably worried if it still stood there.

Alya put the notepad one level deeper onto the working space of the counter, then she waited for the golden eyed boy to return while not looking too suspicious. He did a few moments later, now innocently taking her order of two colas and telling her that she could return to her date, he would bring them.

She smirked at him as she made her way back to the seat, nodding at the guy to continue monologuing as she was seated again.

He didn’t let her ask twice as he already went off about some children that were annoying him the other day. But this time, Alya couldn’t even fake her smile. She was smiling for real, at the thought of what would happen in a second. The waiter vanished in the back for a second, probably to warn his boss and tell him she slid him 20 Euros to pay for the inconvenience.

Then he returned, putting away the two empty glasses to wash them later and filling up two new ones with the ordered cola for their table. Alya honestly had a hard time looking away from his practiced movements. She liked watching him moving in his little space behind the counter almost effortlessly, blindly as he confidently picked the bottles he needed without even having to check.

She almost sighed at his surety with which he moved, her gaze getting caught in watching his lower arms that peeked out of some rolled up sleeves fly to uncap another bottle of cola. His skin made such a nice contrast to the white shirt of his outfit as a waiter. She shook her head and looked back at her date. No, no, no distractions. She wanted to get out of here and fast. The plan was made, c’mon, focus.

Within seconds the glasses were full and her partner in crime loaded them on a tablet, both coincidentally near to the edge of the tray, she noticed with a slight smirk.

Her date went on about his motorcycle again and she was suddenly very glad she had asked the waiter to help her out. She really wouldn’t have been able to hear more of this guy’s machine…

Internally, she braced herself the best she could. And she should probably catch the glass, too, not to give the waiter even more to clean up.

He reached their table and Alya politely looked up to him, nodding at him. The waiter winked inconspicuously and looked over to her date, beginning to grab the first cola to serve it to him. Alya firmly kept her gaze on the second glass as her date already thanked the waiter. And just as he lifted the glass off the tray it tipped over his fingertips because of the weight of the second glass.

The icy cold cola spilled over Alya’s top and lap, the glass landing on her arm and rolling off to come to rest on her lap. The tray fell on her shoulder and clattered to the ground.

For a second, the restaurant remained silent as all gazes went over to them. Cola dripped from her hair into her cleavage and pooled in her lap. The stickiness quickly made itself noticeable as her clothes stuck to her and her hair clumped together.

“… -my god I am so, so sorry, Mademoiselle!”, the waiter’s voice finally reached her as she awoke from her stupor, feeling a giggle rising up in her throat, “I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

She trained a surprised expression on her face, frowning up at him.

“Well-…”, she began, fighting her smirk at the perfect acting of her partner in crime, but doing her best to suppress it, “… Thank you. For the cola. Uhm-… Ew…”

A brief eye contact had them both nodding, just for the other to see. His was a mission complete, hers was a thank you.

But they hadn’t kept her date in their minds while making the deal. Or rather, Alya didn’t expect him to stand up and start yelling at the cute waiter. With wide eyes she stared as the guy pulled his arm up and back, clenching his fist, readying himself to give the waiter a good punch.

“Wow, hey! No need to get physical!”, she suddenly heard from the bar, seeing a big, bulky man with the outfit of a cook appearing in the doorframe, just as she was about to jump up and stop her date from wrecking the waiter’s face.

The cook stomped around the bar while her so called date shrunk further and further, his head now ducked between his shoulders as the man shoved the waiter behind his back, cracking his knuckles.

“You got a problem, you leave.”, he growled. The guy didn’t let that be asked of him twice as he visibly deflated and turned on his heels, not even shooting her a second glance as he vanished through the door.

Alya held her breath as the cook turned to her but the waiter quickly ducked through underneath his arm, pushed past him and offered her a high five.

“Hey, that was some pretty convincing acting.”, he praised her, his eyes shining while the cook turned around, explaining the situation to the rest of the restaurant and that everything was under control now.

Alya hesitantly high fived him, puzzled by how her asking for a favor had ended in this situation. And that he didn’t seem to mind in the slightest that she was still soaked in cola, including her hand, and that everything was sticky. Without even batting an eyelash he caught her hand with which she had just given the high five and swiftly grabbed the glass from her lap, helping her to her feet.

“Sorry for the little scare. But I kinda suspected your date to pull something like that so I gave my cousin a little heads up.”

She finally managed to smile but began to feel increasingly disgusted with the cola all over her, sticking everything to her and overall feeling wet and cold.

“Oh, uh-… Thanks…”

He nodded, waving it off.

“Not a problem. Now, I guess your home is a bit further away? And you shouldn’t get into a car like this.”

Alya chuckled nervously. That’s right, she hadn’t thought about that…

“Uhm, it’s just a few blocks, actually. It’s okay.”

His smug grin made her sigh. He got her.

“Lie.”, he winked again, then gestured to the back, “Don’t worry, my family owns this house, actually. I got the apartment beneath the roof. You can take a shower at my place, I lend you a few clothes and then you can go home? Because I won’t let you go through this cold like this, it’s March. You’d freeze to death.”, a small glance from both of them confirmed that it had begun raining as well.

She huffed, nodding to herself. She wouldn’t wanna go through this weather either. If it had only been on her shirt that wouldn’t have been a problem, but with her jeans looking like she had just peed herself? Dripping cola everywhere in the bus because a walk home would take over half an hour? In the rain, additionally?

So she sighed, defeatedly nodding.

“Only if I’m not getting you in trouble for leaving work, though.”

“My parents own this restaurant, they’ll forgive me. Especially for helping out a pretty girl on which I just dumped a drink.”

She giggled as she grabbed her stuff and followed him to the back, into a staircase leading up into the private rooms.

“On her own request, mind you.”, she retorted, wrapping her arms around herself even if it disgusted her since the stickiness only became worse, but preventing to drop everywhere.

He snorted, shrugging as he led her to the highest floor to unlock one of the two doors that opened the way into his apartment. She tried her best to keep her dripping to herself as she stepped in, waiting for him to lead the way to the bathroom. He quickly stepped past her in the narrow hallway, gently cupping her elbows not to accidently push her over, then he opened a door to the side and waved her in.

“Towels are next to the shower and you can use everything in there. I’ll uh-… Well, I could give you a few of my clothes.”

“What, no girlfriend to snag from?”, she cheekily asked before realizing what she had just done, as they both turned incredibly red.

“Ah uh-…”, he intelligently replied, rubbing the back of his head, “Uhm-… N-No, no, no girlfriend. But I c-could ask my sister if she got clothes for you? She’s smaller than you, though…”

Alya quickly shook her head, smiling awkwardly while stepping closer to the shower.

“Oh, no no, that’s fine. A-Any of your clothes are, uhm, fine.”

They stood in an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds until the waiter clapped his hands together and looked at her again with an awkward smile.

“Yes, uhm, anyway, just make yourself comfortable here. I’ll put out a few clothes for you in front of the door and finish off my shift, it’ll take about half an hour, then I can drive you home. Would, uhm-… Would that be okay?”

Alya awkwardly nodded but halted him before he could already step out again.

“Oh, uhm-… If I’m already taking a shower at your place-… I’m Alya, by the way.”

He chuckled as he turned back to her, stretching out his hand.

“Nino. Nice to meet you, Alya.”

She nodded at him, holding her hand up.

“Sticky hand, sorry.”

He laughed and his offered hand flew up to the back of his head.

“Oh, right. So, uhm, how about I just-…”, he searched his phone out and typed something, “I’ll get you a few clothes and lay them out in front of the door. You can type in my number and just leave my phone outside, if you need anything, if that’s cool? Just text me when it’s safe to come up again.”

As he turned the screen of his phone back to her she realized that he had pulled up his number, for her to type into her phone.

“Uhm, yeah, cool. Cool!”, they both smiled at each other before her grin turned smug, “Smooth way to get my number, by the way.”

“I try.”, he winked, a humorous wink in his eyes as he left the bathroom, closing the door behind him, leaving her to it.

Thank you so much for reading!

Wanna buy me a coffee?

[abadmeanman]

Secret Santa! @do-the-fandom-mash!

Merry Christmas and happy holidays, @do-the-fandom-mash! I’m your secret santa! My Adrien/Rose fic is below, and I’m going to post it on AO3 at this link, too: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13088808. 

Title: 

Not That It's A Competition Or Anything

With a flash of lightning, and a clap of thunder, the akuma struck Ladybug with a jolt of electricity. Her pigtails briefly stood on end and her skeleton briefly become visible, cartoonishly. She blinked, shook herself, swung out of the way on her yo-yo as a thin plume of steam rose from her head.

“I can’t believe Aurora got akumatized again! I didn’t even know that could happen!” she shouted to Chat Noir, as he pole-vaulted Rose Lavillant away from the park-cum-crime-scene. “And as basically the same akuma!”

“And same park! It speaks to Hawkmoth running out of ideas, my Lady,” he said, as Rose’s floppy sun hat and picnic basket flapped in the akuma-related turbulence. Juleka had already been safely spirited away by Ladybug, pre-zappage. “How else would he land on Stormy Weather 2: Electric Bugaboo?”

Ladybug paused, mid-swing. Which is to say, she kept swinging, but turned to stare at him, incredulous.

“How long were you waiting to use that pun?!”

“ALL DAY,” he shouted over his shoulder, alighting on a rooftop and setting Rose down gently. “There you are, Ro--I mean, citizen with whom I am unfamiliar.”

“Chat Noir, haven’t we met like, seven times?”

Chat Noir simply grinned and shrugged, turning back to re-enter the fray.

And then he made a little cringing sound as he saw that her picnic basket had tipped over during his landing. He scrambled to set it back upright and replace the no doubt delectable confections therein, except…

“Hey… is this picnic basket just full of flowers?”

“Of course!” said Rose, chipper despite the mortal peril. “It’s a romantic picnic date, after all!”

“Uh, very good, citizen,” said Chat Noir, batonning off back into the fray. “Carry on! Stay safe!” He threw her a wave with one hand, which she returned with a smile and a blown kiss.

And meanwhile, in his own private monologue, he kept repeating to himself: Damn. That’s romantic.

--------

Once Stormy Weather 2: Electric Bugaboo had been defeated (using same lucky charm, it turned out), Ladybug and Chat Noir went stealthily back to the Louvre to detransform.

“Hey Marinette… if I were, to, say, ask Rose out…”

“Do I think she’d go for it?” replied Marinette. “Oh definitely. She’s just about the only person who could manage to out-romance you, I think.”

“Part of me wants to take that as a challenge, but my heart is aflutter regardless.”

“Well don’t use up all the magic,” said Marinette, slipping her hand into his. “But I doubt anything could beat when you learned how to bake for me. You are my king of romance, after all.”

“So sweet, my lady,” he said, pulling her up into a kiss. “Put in a good word for me in the girls’ group chat?”

“Oh babe if you think she doesn’t already know all your tricks you’ve got another thing coming.”

----------

The date was off to a promising start as soon as both Adrien and Rose brought flowers.

It went like this:

Working up to it, Adrien was a little nervous about bringing roses to a date with a girl named Rose. But what can you do--romance traditions are heady things, after all, and what was an impressive first date without roses.

He went with one dozen, pink. A little off-brand, as you’d expect the color red to do the heavy lifting in the romance department, but bonus points for being her favorite color, Adrien thought. And given that Marinette’s favorite color was also pink, he already knew a guy who could get him the good stuff, and by good stuff he meant pink roses.

And so he found himself, hand-on-the-back-of-his-neck nervous, holding a dozen pink roses, standing in front of Rose’s door, blushing.

Rose, for her part, practically bounced in her pumps as she opened the door, one dozen red roses in hand, with a blush almost exactly matching the pink of Adrien’s bouquet. Nice, Adrien thought to himself. Nailed it.

“We match!” said Rose, leaving to the interpretation of the viewer whether she meant the flowers, or them both blushing, or her blushing matching his flowers, or what. It worked on multiple levels, but then again, so does… rrrromance. And nothing is more romantic than matching your bouquet to your date’s blush. He’d picked that trick up with Marinette on like, date two.

Not that it was a contest or anything, but Rose: 0, Adrien: 1.

-----------

“Oh Adrien! These seats are perfect!”

What’s an evening on the town without some theater? Adrien had managed to score some primo matinee seats at the (AUTHOR’S NOTE: look up a famous French theater and put it here) (EDITOR’S NOTE: this omission was intentional, as a gag). Front row, center, with plenty of legroom. One could practically high-five the comic relief.

“Oh!” said Rose, folding down her theater seat to find yet another bouquet of flowers decorating the velvet. Red, this time--Adrien had figured he’d cover all the romance-color bases. Rose picked them up with a grin, and read the note aloud.

“My dearest Rose,” she read. “I hope that a gift of more of your namesake will bring you as much joy as I have in accompanying you. Oh you scamp!” she said, slapping his arm lightly. “Double roses! I am impressed.”

“I can’t get enough rose in my life, I suppose,” he said, smirking. At last. The five days of puncrafting pay off in this moment.

Rose made a sound somewhere between a squeal and a squeak, and kissed him on the cheek, sweeping up her new bouquet and settling onto the cushion. “You scallywag! What a line,” she said. “Well don’t just stand there! Join me! I’ve got all of these knees, and no free hands to squeeze them with.”

Adrien obliged.  

-----

The play that evening? A romance, of course.

Well, a romantic comedy. Twelfth Night was technically one of the Bard’s comedies, but it carried its weight in raised eyebrows and kissing and innuendo and what-have-you.

The perfect kind of play to see while holding hands with a lovely young fashion model, or an adorable young parfumier. And if Rose’s foot happened to slip up Adrien’s calf a little bit during the final few acts, and if Adrien’s hand squeezed a bit northward of the knee, well, that’s no problem at all. After all, Shakespeare was a dirtybird, as we know.

Adrien did, however, receive the start of his life when, after the cast had done the curtain call and taken their bows, “Viola” stepped forward and announced that the performance was dedicated to the most striking man in Paris, who happened to be in the audience that very night: Adrien Agreste.

Not that it was a competition or anything, but Rose: 1, Adrien: 1.

------------

Adrien was very proud of himself for his next trick.

Modern restaurants are generally equipped with electricity, for a variety of reasons--candle-only illumination had gone the way of the dodo back when France had an emperor. But, if one happens to be the scion of the Agreste fashion empire, it’s a simple matter to reserve an entire restaurant for a night, and have the whole place lit with candles.

Rose gasped, putting a dainty bisexual hand up to her lips. “Oh Adrien! So romantic.” She reached to her left (daintily shifting her many bouquets to the crook of one arm) and pulled on a velvet rope that Adrien hadn’t noticed. “It matches the chandelier!”

His heart skipped a beat, with a surge of anticipation making his fingers buzz. Directly above their table, a panel opened in the ceiling and a glittering glass chandelier, illuminated by dozens upon dozens of pink candles, descended to light their meal. The flames danced in the shape of a heart.

Adrien, for his part, gawked. Now that was romantic.

“Thank you,” said Rose, and kissed him on the cheek, gracefully accepting Adrien’s silent compliment. “Now, what did Monsieur Agreste select for the wine pairing?”

Not that it was a competition or anything, but Rose: 2, Adrien: 1.

-----

The problem was (and it wasn’t really a problem) that Rose was incredibly, unbelievably, dramatically romantic. She was an elite, and Adrien had never before been truly challenged, in the romance department.

He was sweating under his cravat (blue--matched her eyes), and dabbed lightly at his temples as his next romantic maneuver was wheeled out. It already seemed so weak, so tawdry compared to the various glories of romance that Rose had devastated him with.

The waiter placed the chocolate fountain on their table, and Rose clapped excitedly. That was simultaneously the best and worst part. She was soundly defeating him in romantic firepower at every turn, and yet she also sincerely and earnestly enjoyed and appreciated every gesture he made. No matter how she’d outdone him.

By god, she’s gracious in her victory, he thought. And I’m just getting competitive as Kim trying to keep up. I should… I need to live in the moment. And with that, he picked up a fork, speared one of a curated assortment of tidbits to envelop in liquid chocolate, and began to truly enjoy the decadence of the chocolate fountain.

… Until he unfolded his napkin and discovered a small, folded piece of paper under it, which contained a poem that she had written for him.

And it rhymed.

Adrien sat back, eyes drifting to the glimmering chandelier above. I am absolutely destroyed.

Not that it was a competition or anything, but Rose: 3, Adrien: 1.

--------

But Ladybug never gave up and dammit neither did he.

Adrien thought he had Rose on the romantic ropes when an attendant wheeled over the grand piano. Nothing is more romantic than playing a song you wrote for your lover true.

“I was so happy you said yes when I asked you out, Rose, that I couldn’t help but compose a little song. If you’ll indulge me, I’ll--wait.” He looked around. Where had she gone?

“Oh Adrien,” said Rose, reclining slinkily atop the grand piano, flower clenched between her teeth. She somehow maintained perfect diction with a mouthful of stem. “How you do go on. I’d love to hear your song!”

How did she… damn, thought Adrien. There is nothing more seductively romantic than a woman draping herself over a grand piano, or at least that’s what all the midcentury black and white movies implied. But… I haven’t unleashed my art yet.

He grinned as rakishly as he could up at Rose, who beamed around the flower in her teeth, and fingered the first chord of his--

And someone had put a note reading “I hope that chord isn’t the only thing getting fingered tonight” in the middle of his handwritten sheet music.

He played, because there was absolutely nothing to do but serenade her. Even if she’d absolutely devastated him, romantically. Even if he was helpless silly putty against her powers of seduction. How had she even gotten to his sheet music?

Rose stretched languorously, or as languorously as a very short French girl can stretch, arcing her back up from the piano, as the perfect aperitif to the last resonant notes of Adrien’s song. She removed the rose from between her teeth, and, holding it at arm’s length, prodded him on the nose with it.

“How did you even…” he began, but couldn’t continue.

“I’m exquisite,” said Rose, by way of explanation.

And she was.

Not that it was a competition or anything, but Rose: 4, Adrien: 1.

But Adrien mentally rolled up the sleeves on the romantic leather jacket of his imagination. He wasn’t nearly done romancing Rose.

-----

Red velvet carpet muffled their steps up the stairs as the doors to the Agreste mansion parted, and the string quartet started playing. Rose gasped, and Adrien felt her hand (which he was carefully clasping as he led her up the portico) squeeze his, in an involuntarily clutch of delight.

One of the advantages of being filthy rich (or as they would say in France, crasseux riche), is the fact that the atrium of your mansion becomes a ballroom if you simply add an orchestra. And oh, Adrien knew a great orchestra.

After all, if you’re going to take the most romantically inclined gal in Paris back to your place, one simply must do it in style.

He might not be able to outdo her at romance activities in a restaurant, but something must be said for having a private ballroom at one’s disposal. And so they laughed, and spun, and Rose found out just exactly how much she could feel like a princess all in one night. Adrien had nailed it.

Not that it was a competition or anything, but Rose: 4, Adrien: 2.

-----

As Adrien and Rose made out on their way to the boudoir (which is French for bedchamber), bouncing off of the walls at irregular intervals and giggling, a corner of Adrien’s mind was congratulating himself for absolutely and literally romancing the pants off of the most romantically-minded girl in Paris. She had been sneaky--romantically sneaky--during their dinner and during his piano recital, but oh, a ballroom dance is a pièce de résistance before which no romantic heart can fail to melt. Or, as the French would say, a pièce de résistance before which no romantic heart can fail to melt.

In anticipation of this eventuality, Adrien had made some preparations. The pathway to the bed was lined with candles, a cheery fire glowed softly in a fireplace he’d had specially installed, and he’d done some decoration on the bed itself.

Just in case.

(It was more rose petals)

… But how the fuck had Rose managed to scatter rose petals in a pathway to the bed?

… And how the fuck had she managed to surround the bed with candles in the shape of a heart?

… And how had she managed to install a hidden reservoir of rose petals which would gently shower over two people in a bed when you pulled on a velvet rope?

“How did you--” he began, surrounded by a cascade of petals. Because he had to know. But before he could complete the thought, he was interrupted by the soft plap of a pink tulip plapping against his lips.

“Shhhhhh, shhh shh, my darling,” said Rose, raising one hand to cup his cheek as she whispered. “Let the romance find you.” She tugged him gently, but insistently, to sit upon the bed.

Aha! thought Adrien, who had also prepared for this eventuality. He plapped an orange tulip of his own against Rose’s lips, even more gently, shushing her, but in a romantic way.

“Shhhh, quiet my love, let the emotion overcome you…” he whispered, around the tulip, delicately cupping her chin, and reclining further on the bed.

“No no no, shhhhhh,” replied rose, plapping him in the eyebrow with a second tulip, red this time. “We need no words.”

“But I must express what I feel,” said Adrien, who felt like he had just aced that delivery. Pure rom-com dialogue, right there. He stroked his second tulip (pastel yellow this time) down the line of her cheek and lips as they lay down on the bed.

“Shhhhhhhh,” said Rose. “Our love is so much more than we could ever say,” she said, as she plapped a third--

Wait a minute.

Adrien took a quick inventory: One tulip plapped against his lips, another against his eyebrow, both of which Rose was still holding in her dainty, pinkly manicured hands. And a third tulip plapped against his nose, held by…

He looked down his and Rose’s reclining figures, to see an appealingly bare length of Rose’s leg extended from her hiked-up dress and bent up towards his face, the third tulip daintily clutched between her toes, plapping it onto his face. Adrien turned back to her, phenomenally impressed.

There is nothing more romantic than softly holding someone’s face and plapping them with flowers. And Rose had done it thrice.

His admiration must have shown on his face, because Rose blushed the perfect amount, averted her eyes a tiny bit, then brought them back to gaze full into Adrien’s own extremely fucking emerald orbs, and giggled softly.

“I’m very flexible.”

And at a certain point on a date, that is one of the most romantic lines you can say. Rose had undoubtedly, unbelievably vanquished him with romance.

Not that it was a competition or anything.

And, cinematically speaking, the rest of the night gently faded out on a soft-focus shot of the fireplace.

--------

“What’s the final score?” asked Marinette, cuddled up with Juleka under a blanket in front of a horror movie.

“Looks like Rose: 23, Adrien: 2, from Alya’s latest update.”

“Sweet. I beat the spread,” said Marinette as she popped another piece of popcorn into her mouth, and fed another one to Juleka.  

“Honestly, I’m surprised he scored at all,” said Juleka around said popcorn. “Rose is phenomenal.”

“What can you do? Bringing flowers to the door is a power play, and so is a ballroom dance. Those were his aces in the hole,” said Marinette. “Plus, I think we both knew he was going to… score.” Marinette emphasized her extremely mature joke by elbowing Juleka in the ribs. Juleka giggled, and elbowed her back, which started a brief elbow fight that ended with them getting yet snugglier.

Juleka sighed, and tilted her head into the crook of Marinette’s neck. “It was awfully sweet of Alya to spy on them for us. How extra do you think they’re being right now?”

“At least extra extra, we’re in 2X territory absolutely.”

“Maybe even extra extra extra?”

“Oh definitely possible we’ve hit 3X.”

“Well, I for one know that Rose was definitely hoping for it to get a little triple-X at the end.”

They giggled at that for almost the rest of the movie.

When the credits were rolling, Juleka got a little smirk on her lips, and ran her hand up the back of Marinette’s neck, very gently. She whispered into Marinette’s ear:

“I’m, uh… a little scared after that movie. Maybe you could… escort me back to my room?”

Marinette smiled and nodded, walking back to Juleka’s boudoir still wrapped in the blanket. After all, who said Adrien and Rose got to have all the romance?

[imagining-supernatural]

Avenging Angel: Part 13

Summary: You’ve spent the last five years on a dangerous mission to solve the crime that wrongly imprisoned your father. When the Winchesters find you half-frozen on the side of a mountain, they make it their own mission to save your life and make sure you stay alive. But after five years of uncovering horribly dark secrets, you’ve learned not to trust anyone. Especially people who seem like they have good intentions.

Word Count: 1670

Warnings: None

Part 1 – Part 2 – Part 3 – Part 4 – Part 5 – Part 6 – Part 7 – Part 8 -- Part 9 -- Part 10 -- Part 11 -- Part 12

“I love you, sweetheart,” your mother whispered. “Never forget that.”

“What’s wrong, mommy?”

“Nothing, baby. Everything is going to be perfect, I promise you.”

You sat up in your bed and looked at your mother’s gorgeous face in all of your six-year-old seriousness. “Mommy, you’re scaring me.”

She pulled you into her arms, squeezing you tightly like she did whenever you woke her up after having a nightmare. “Promise me that you’ll be good for daddy, okay?”

“Where are you going?” Through your open door, you could see her suitcase in the hallway.

Your mother offered you a brave smile and kissed your forehead. “I’ll never be too far away from you, Y/N. I promise. And I’m so proud of you.”

“Don’t go, mommy,” you begged. You didn’t understand what was happening, but it frightened you.

“I love you.” Tears stained her last words to you and you would never forget the sight of her closing your door for the last time.

*****

*****

“Your dad worked on several projects to hide all the tell-tale signs that my family was shifters. He worked for us for years to figure out these things. The aversion to silver, the eye flare on camera, and even the skin thing.”

“The skin thing?” You looked at Dean, not Braxton, for that explanation.

“When shifters change form, they leave behind this disgusting pile of skin.”

The glare Braxton threw at Dean told you that neither man liked each other one bit. “Something like that. But something happened and Kemuny refused to work with my family anymore. That was around the time you were born. Ever since then, my family has kept a close eye on your family.”

“Even my mom?”

After a year of dating the man, you knew the look on Braxton’s face. His answer wasn’t one that you were going to like. “No. She disappeared on us the same time she left you.”

“What else do you know about her?” you asked cautiously.

“Y/N,” Dean warned.

Who was he to think that he could keep butting in on the conversation? You met him less than two weeks ago and he was trying to take control of everything? “If he knows something, I want to know too. I’m not going to just blindly trust you and Sam. Especially since you don’t know her.”

“Well he doesn’t either!” Dean pointed out.

“Not personally,” you agreed. Braxton was your age. If he was telling the truth and no one had been in contact with your mother since she left, then he would have been around six or seven when she left as well. “But his family did. So he has one up on you.”

“He tried to kill you,” Dean tried to remind you.

You raised your chin and leveled a glare at the Winchester. “If you can’t shut up, then you need to leave. I’ve been searching for answers for five years and Braxton is finally ready to give them to me. You don’t understand what is happening here, and I’m not going to explain it to you. And I feel perfectly safe with Braxton, so you can leave me alone.”

Taken aback, Dean crossed his arms, but he didn’t move and didn’t say anything else.

Partially satisfied, you turned back to Braxton. “My mom.”

“We’re looking for her too. She helped a lot with the research that we want from your father.”

“What about her? Is there anything… specific, that you know about her?”

He hesitated and you straightened in your seat. It wasn’t often that Braxton was unsure. He was the son of a billionaire and under the protection of a shapeshifter mafia group. There was never any reason for him to be hesitant.

“Do you know why my family left you on that mountain?”

“Because I knew too much about them?”

“Partially. But mostly because they had a theory.”

“What does this have to do with my mom?” You weren’t sure if you actually wanted the answer.

He swallowed hard and the muscle in his jaw twitched. “Because we couldn’t find her, you were the next best thing. If you survived, that confirmed their suspicions about her.”

“No.” Not Braxton too. “She’s… she’s not a werewolf! I’m not half-werewolf or whatever you’re thinking. My family is just a bunch of weird, geeky nerds. My parents love their chemicals and experiments, and I love my computers and coding. That’s it. That’s all we are.”

Braxton reached across the table and captured one of your hands in his. “Y/N. Think about it. How else do you explain how you survived a winter storm for however long until the Winchesters found you?”

“But-but-but I’ve never transformed at a full moon. I don’t grow claws and fur and I definitely don’t have a craving for hearts!” You pulled your hand away and retreated to the corner of the booth. If the Winchesters and a Covington agreed that you mom was a werewolf, then you should probably seriously think about it.

But you’d rather not.

Dean shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around you. You hadn’t even realized that you were shivering until the heat surrounded you.

“You’re not a full werewolf. And I’m not a full shifter. We have diluted blood, so we only have a few of the features.” As if that made it any better. “You have your heightened senses and increased survival instinct. I can get memories from a touch, but I can’t shift.”

“Can you get my memories?” Maybe the best way to deal with all this new information was to ignore it all. That was definitely the healthiest option.

Braxton shook his head. “No one has been able to. Trust me, they’ve tried.”

“Told you,” you shot at Dean. The last few minutes had been chuck-full of new information that you really didn’t want to believe, but not the information that you really wanted. So you shoved everything Braxton had said off to the side and refocused yourself. “Back to the massacre.”

“The things that your parents came up with to hide the shifter signs worked for a while. But a few months before the massacre, they started failing. The contacts stopped hiding the eye flare and silver started to affect everyone again. It wasn’t long before some hunters showed up.” Braxton’s eyes slid over to Dean for a brief moment before he went back to ignoring him.

“They killed fourteen members of my family, and the rest of my family found the hunters and killed them. But they blamed your dad for not making the contacts and silver serum last. They still think that he did that on purpose. It was just enough time for everyone to start relying on his tech that they didn’t feel the need to hide as much. And fourteen people are dead because his stuff didn’t last. So someone shifted into him and left just enough evidence at that house to get him convicted.”

Eyes closed, you took a deep breath as you processed his explanation. This was exactly what you’d spent five years of your life on. You finally knew for sure that your dad was innocent.

But there was no way you would be able to prove it to the right people to get his release.

And that hurt.

“I need a drink,” you mumbled, pushing Dean out of the booth.

“Y/N—“

“Stop!” you snapped at him. “Stop saying my name like I’m some hurt puppy! Yes, this is a lot of new information about everything I thought I knew about my life. And yes, maybe I’m not thinking too clearly at the moment. But I’m dealing with it how I want to. You saved my life and I’m grateful for that, but it’s still my life.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he let you out of the booth. “I’ll come with—“

“No. You stay here. I’ll get you a whiskey and Braxton can help me. I’m sure he can afford it.”

Without waiting for Dean’s argument, you grabbed Braxton’s hand and pulled him toward the bar.

“Bet you wish you would have gotten away from the Winchesters when I told you to, huh?”

“I’m not too happy with you right now either,” you muttered.

“You know that I couldn’t tell you about my family,” Braxton defended.

Choosing to let that one slide, you hopped up on a barstool and controlled your anger and annoyance long enough to order. Braxton slid onto the stool next to you and turned to you expectantly. “You have something to say. I know that look. What is it?”

“You,” You whispered, preparing yourself for the monologue that would make Shakespeare proud. “I always knew that you were keeping secrets from me. About your family. I knew that you knew about my dad. I mean, not at first. You had me fooled for the first few months. But after that, I knew that this whole relationship was a farce for both of us. I was using you, and you were using me. And that made it okay. But then… then I really fell for you and I know that you really fell for me. Then you tried to kill me. I know—“ you hurried to say before he could cut in. “I know that it wasn’t really you on the mountain.

“But I also know that you knew they were planning on leaving me there to test their theory and you didn’t let me in on that or try to stop them. And I find out that you’re t9? I’ve been talking to you for years? You’ve been using me for years. You knew about my mom. You knew that my dad was framed. You know all of these things about me and my family that I never knew.

“Nothing about this is fair. I have every reason to slap you and tell you to get out of my life. Every reason to hate you. But somehow, I still love you.” 

Part 14 of Avenging Angel

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