#also sorry for the complete lack of clear thought process

[iphis-et-iante]

there is zero reason to post this but here goes

I'm going to use this place as a little diary of sorts - I'm not going to treat it like social media, I'm just going to randomly post stuff from my day

ON THAT NOTE

so recently i realised that due to my limited exposure with people who aren't old in French, i speak with a dialect that you don't usually find in teens my age

like i say caillot in reference to a child for example, and i have a fairly noticeable Norman accent i think

which is fun! and I like it as it makes me peculiar in a way

also today i was on my annual school trip, right? We headed to a lake near here and were vibing in an aqua park, i bruised my foot from jumping from really high up! really fun stuff :)

and then after that we went up a hill, i did *not* enjoy that, i think everyone needed water and we left it all in the buses, so we were fucked up

my bestie i think had trouble, i felt really bad for her :(, still kind of worried

I'm as i write this headed home, and even as i type the sky is bluer than I've seen it all year :)

really enjoyed today i think :))

okay post over, thank youuu <3

stay safe whoever reads this! and have a good day <3

[cocobeanncteez]

Ateez Choi San — Safe Habor

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

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

Word Count: 22.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And if it does go to court?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

2 months later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You needed to get out of here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/N?"

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

San groans. "Y/N... It's—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then it hit you.

Video proof.

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

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

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

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

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

"Mhmm, I ate at work."

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

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

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

"Thanks, Sannie."

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

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

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

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

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

"Hmm?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What if he didn't want to kiss you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3 weeks later

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

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

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

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

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

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

The room goes still, everyone frozen in place.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you see him— Choi San.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did great in there,” San says.

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

“Thank you, San. For everything.”

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

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

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

2 days later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then your eyes caught something unusual.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-×-×-×-

2 weeks later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-×-×-×-

2 days later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-×-×-×-

1 week later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-×-×-×-

1 week later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-×-×-×-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Really?"

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

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

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

-×-×-×-

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

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

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

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

San giggles. "Shall we?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

San thought you were glowing. You looked so beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. My. Goodness. Holy. Fuck.

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

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

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

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

San's jaw dropped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He kisses your forehead. "Are you okay?"

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

"Hmm?"

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

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

"Yeah?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[chiaraanatra]

Lavender Girl

Summary: JJ was never one to believe in fate but one chance encounter may have him changing his mind. (Or the one where JJ helps Kook!reader through a panic attack and neither one of them can get the other off their mind.)

Warnings: vague descriptions of a panic attack, reader is an anxious wreck, reader tends to bite the skin on her fingers when anxious (don't mind me and my self-inserts), swearing feelings of distrust on JJ's part, nick-/pet names (pretty girl, lavender girl). one use of Y/N.

WC: 2.1k

AN: I'm not sure what this is or where its going! If anyone has any ideas/would like a part two let me know! I hope you like!

Song: Loosely based on Lavender Girl by Caamp

《 m.list || ao3 》

JJ POV

Why do I do this to myself?

Are pity tips from old ladies worth it?

This stupid getup is bad enough, let alone having to wait hand & foot on these fucking Kooks.

Do these people have nothing better to do on a Thursday morning than sit around bitching and drinking mimosas?

JJ made my way back inside, empty tray under his arm. Thank god it was nice out. It meant that the main bar inside the club was completely empty, giving him a minute of peace away from out-of-touch members of 'high society'.

Or so he thought…

When he turned the corner, he was met with soft sobs and lavender fabric pooled delicately on the floor under the bar. "Um… You okay…?" He didn't want to be rude, but heavy emotions weren't exactly his specialty, and he didn't have much experience with girls crying on the floor. At least not like this...

“Oh God, I'm so sorry…" you mumbled.

You looked up at him with teary eyes and in that moment, JJ was sure he had never been met with a more beautiful sight. Even glossed with tears, JJ was positive he had never looked into eyes as clear as yours. He watched as you scrambled to wipe away the tears that were still spilling over and mask the sounds of sniffling.

"Hey, hey, hey, you're okay." JJ set down the tray and crouched to be at eye level with you. "Wha's gotcha so upset? Far too pretty to be crying like that…" His last statement was barely above a whisper, brought into existence before JJ even knew he was saying it.

You glanced away, biting the skin of your thumb, "It’s all too much, it's just… I-I just couldn't…" You were trembling, shaking like a leaf. JJ knew if you kept this up you would probably pass out from lack of oxygen and/or gnaw straight through your finger.

"Hey, look at me." He reached out, gently taking your hand away from your mouth and bringing your attention to him. "Deep breaths." For a moment JJ thought he may be overstepping, but something in him had switched to autopilot, set on helping you, comforting you. "Breathe with me. In." He paused to take a deep breath, "And out." He slowly blew the air out of his lungs before repeating the process and the mantra. "In… and out…"

He watched as your trembling slowed and your body seemed to relax at his words. "There she is." He gave you a smile and you reciprocated with a small one of your own, "See? Knew you were far too pretty to be cryin’ like that," JJ helped you to stand. He thought you were about to say something before his name caught his attention.

"JJ, what the fuck are you doing man?" JJ looked behind him to see Ben peek his head out from the hallway. "If Mr. Burton sees you fucking around again, he’s gonna cut your ass."

"Shit…" his attention was brought back to you. "Sorry pretty girl, I gotta go." he grabbed his tray before giving you one last glance. "It’ll be okay. Don't let anyone make you believe otherwise. That includes yourself!"

And with that he was gone, leaving you with puffy eyes and a soft smile. JJ didn't know that he also left you wondering why anyone would be so sweet to you and that soon you would be clamoring to know more about the dirty blonde that went by JJ.

After his shift, JJ went straight to the Chateau, where he now found himself hanging off one of the chairs on the porch and regretting just about every word he had said in the last 15 minutes. He didn’t know how you got brought up and he certainly as hell didn’t know why, considering the two of you had barely a 10-minute interaction and you only said 5 words to him.

Regardless of circumstances, he was now getting berated with questions from two of his best friends, fearing it would only get worse when Kie and Sarah made their way back out onto the porch.

"Shit man you should have at least asked for her name!" John B exclaimed almost tipping over the beer bottle that was haphazardly perched on the arm of his chair.

JJ rolled his eyes, "I wasn't exactly thinking about that!"

"Yeah, I can only imagine what you were thinking about." Pope chuckled to himself. "Speaking of, what did she look like?"

JJ didn't want to tell his friends that you were the most gorgeous human he had ever seen "I don't know man, she looked like every other Kook princess running around." JJ could only shake his head at how unconvincing his voice sounded.

"Bullshit!" John B laughed at his best friend's failed attempts to mask his budding feelings.

"What are you halfwits arguing about?" The three boys looked up to find Kie and Sarah stepping out of the Chateau. Sarah made herself comfortable on John B's lap while Kie sat on the couch next to Pope.

"JJ's in love."

"Wha- fuck you, Pope!"

"With a mystery Kook," John B added.

"Oooo! Tell me more!" Sarah loved gossip and loved the idea of JJ showing interest in a girl that went beyond the realm of a one-night stand.

JJ stood from his seat, "I'm just gonna go walk into the ocean while y'all have fun."

"Oh, sit down," John B waved his hand and JJ returned to his seat. "We're just fucking around, JJ."

"So how did we meet this mysterious Kook Princess?" Kie leaned in, her elbows on her knees.

"Don't matter. For all I know, she's some rich bitch Touron and I'll never see her again."

With that, the conversation fell to other topics, but JJ's thoughts were still on you. Your soft smile. Your puffy eyes. Your lavender dress. He would never admit it, but he was hoping that he was wrong and that he would be lucky enough to see you again.

It had been a week since JJ’s interaction with you and with no signs of you at the club, he feared that he was right. You were gone and he was left with only the memory of your lavender dress and beautiful eyes.

Or so he thought…

Little did he know that you had been looking for him whenever you entered the country club. You just so happened to miss each other, just barely, every time.

He was walking back from the kitchen when he heard his name being called from down the hallway. “JJ?” The voice sounded small and apprehensive but familiar.

When he turned around, he was greeted by the same beauty from the week before, only you had shed your fancy lavender dress for something a bit more casual, shorts and a flowy white shirt.

When he didn’t respond she continued, "That's your name, right? JJ?"

"Uh yeah. That's me. Um, how can I help you?" A look of confusion danced across his face. He half expected you not to remember him and was waiting for you to ask him for a drink or complain about the hors d'oeuvres.

"I wanted to thank you for the other day…" When his confused look didn’t cease, you couldn't help but continue, "I was the girl in the dress, crying her eyes out on the floor under the bar…" Your hair twirled around your finger in what JJ’s eyes looked to be nervousness.

He couldn't help but chuckle softly and shake his head. Of course, he remembered you; how could he forget, you plagued almost every thought he had had in the last week. He was more taken aback by your kindness.

"I get like that sometimes…" you continued. "Sorta like a tidal wave, once it starts it's hard to stop… but you helped me calm down and you didn't even know me… don’t even know me. So, I-I just wanted to thank you…" your voice faded out as you looked down at your pristine, white Converse.

"No problem." JJ watched as you turned to walk away. Wishing he could bring himself to say something, anything that would make you stay for just a second longer. But JJ knew a girl like you would never go for a guy like him.

Your voice pulled him from his thoughts, not noticing that you had turned to face him once more, "Would you like to hang out, sometime?"

Disbelief flashed over his features, "You wanna hang out with me?" This had to be some kind of trick, at any moment some Kook fucks would jump him for thinking he could so much as look at you.

"If not that's fine! It's probably super weird that I asked that! You don't even know me…"

JJ heard the increased anxiousness in your voice and noticed you starting to gnaw nervously at your fingers once again. "Hey, calm down." He made his way closer to you and gently pulled your hand away once more. "Deep breath for me." He watched as you did what you were told. He released your hand before speaking again, "You really want to hang out with me? You realize I'm not like your kook friends, right? I don't have a pretty Benz to drive you around in and I barely have 20 bucks to my name."

"I just moved here, and I don't really have any friends." A look of embarrassment washed over your face, "not that we have to be friends!" You paused, taking another deep breath. JJ could see you trying to fight off the waves of anxiety as they hit you, "It's just- you seem genuinely nice and that seems a bit hard to come by around here…"

JJ's tongue pressed against his cheek as he smiled. "Got your phone?"

You nodded, pulling the device out from the back pocket of your shorts. You unlocked it and handed it to the blonde where he proceeded to put his number in. You looked at the new contact name when he handed your phone back.

JJ Maybank 🌊

You couldn’t help but smile.

"I’m off all day tomorrow, maybe I could show you around the island or something?”

You couldn’t hide the excitement in your voice. “That would be great! Um, I should get going, but I’ll text you?”

“Sounds like a plan, lavender girl.” He gave you a parting smile and a wink before returning to work.

"No need to ask. He's a smooth operator!" Pope’s voice rang out as the three boys made their way down the dock to the HMS Pogue.

John B was quick to join the other man in song, as the three jumped on board, "Smooth operator!"

JJ made his way to the bow looking like he was about to jump into the murky water below, “That's it! I'm never telling you guys shit ever again!"

“Relax, J!” John B pulled his friend off the edge, “Like you didn't give me this much shit with Sarah."

"If not more," Pope laughed as he started the boat.

While that was definitely true the blonde rolled his eyes.

"So, what's the plan?" Pope continued as he lowered the anchor. "This doesn't feel like your usual catch-and-release."

“Man, I don’t know, she’s a fuckin’ Kook. I told her I could show her around the island since she just moved here but I’m not sure she’s gunnin’ to see how the other half lives.”

“Hey, you never know. She might surprise you,” John B had a look in his eyes that told the world that he was thinking about Sarah in that moment.

“Sounds like she has so far,” Pope couldn't help but take a couple more jabs at his friend's expense, never having seen the blonde like this before.

With that, JJ’s mind ran through all the possible things the two of you could do tomorrow. Only to be interrupted by the ping of his phone.

*PING*

Unknown Number - Hey it’s Y/N.

*PING*

Unknown Number - Lavender girl…

JJ felt his heart skip a beat. Part of him didn’t think you would actually contact him.

*PING*

Unknown Number – Are you still free tomorrow?

Contacting him was one thing but actually wanting to hang out with him? He quickly saved your contact in his phone, the nickname he gave you seemed appropriate. He ignored the small flips in his stomach brought on by the thought of you.

*PING*

Lavender Girl - If you still want to hang out, that is.

JJ couldn’t help but smirk and shake his head at your nervousness, not noticing Pope glancing at the digital exchange.

“She uses commas when she texts? Girl after my own heart.”

JJ pushed the other boy, “Fuck off, Pope!”

Do we like? Do we want a part 2? If the answer is yes, do we have suggestions/ideas for part 2? If the answer is also yes please share!

As always, feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

OBX Taglist: @daisydark @Ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @lillyxlillian @jjsfavgirl

𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 💜

[moutainrusing]

netflix & NO chill

Writing a film script was frustratingly difficult, especially when you had to make it original and people-pleasing. Sirius paced the screenwriters��� tiny office (honestly, screenwriters deserved so much more space) agitatedly, almost on the verge of tearing out his precious hair.

“I can’t believe Netflix turned down our script!” James exclaimed, perfectly voicing Sirius’s own thoughts.

Remus sighed, brows furrowed as he worked on another script at his desk. “S’okay, we’ll make a better one.”

“Yeah,” Peter monotonously agreed, mindlessly spinning around on his swivel chair and staring at the ceiling.

“For fuck’s sake!” Remus slammed his pen on the table. “Sirius, would you quit the pacing? It’s stressing me out!”

Sirius rounded on Remus and glared, “Oh, I’m sorry, but I am fucking stressed!”

“Same,” Peter muttered, still spinning dejectedly.

James somehow managed to laugh at this. “Pete, mate, you look depressed, not stressed.”

“Oh, sod off, let me look how I want. And for the record, this is my stressed face.” Peter gave them all his most expressionless expression yet.

James cackled, “You’re so… awesome.” He smiled dopily at Peter, who gave him a judgemental look, the effect lessened by the smile threatening to tug his lips upward.

Sirius and Remus watched this interaction thoughtfully, then glanced at each other. Remus raised a brow. Sirius grinned, “I have an idea!”

Remus rolled his eyes, grumbling, “Oh, ‘course you’d say it’s your idea—”

“Rem and I have an idea!” Sirius quickly corrected.

“Ooh, tell me, tell me,” James eagerly leaned forward on his seat, while Peter demonstrated his complete lack of faith in his friends by keeping his eyes dully fixed on the ceiling.

“Drumroll, please!” Sirius announced grandly.

James, the good, admirable, supportive best mate that he was, immediately began drumming his hands on his thighs. Peter, the faithless, traitorous, unbelieving best mate that he was, resolutely ignored this. And Remus simply sat, staring at Sirius expectantly, as if he wasn’t a proper best mate and should therefore not be required to follow suit.

Sirius huffed, marched towards Remus, grabbed his wrists, and drummed his hands against the desk. Remus yelped, yet allowed his wrists to stay in Sirius’s grasp, so the feeling was really rather pleasant.

“Um, Sirius?” James asked. “We’ve been drumrolling for like five minutes now.”

“Oh! Right,” Sirius nodded, still holding Remus’s hands even after stopping. “Well,” he turned to face James and Peter, letting go of only one hand, which caused Remus to swivel around in his chair to also face them in the process. Remus ended up looking immensely disconcerted. Very adorable. Shit, Sirius was staring.

“Anyway!” He began, clearing his throat and looking at the space between James and Peter. “We should write about us!” He threw his hands into the air for show, although Remus’s hand was still in one, and Remus didn’t seem to want to raise his hand and wildly celebrate, which meant their arms sort of hung limply in between them.

Sirius glared at him. “Jazz hands.”

“Are lame,” Remus hummed aggravatingly, pulling Sirius’s arm down to swing it gently in between them. And then Sirius couldn’t be mad anymore, because Remus was so…

“So…” James blinked. He pointed between the two of them. “You wanna write a script about the two of you?”

Peter snapped his head up, clicked his tongue and pointed at Sirius. “You know, that would actually work! Like, we could write a romance between the two of you. And we could make it intimate and personal, because we just know—”

“What?!” Sirius cut him off, dropping Remus’s hand immediately. “That’s not— what?!”

“Uh, that’s not our idea,” Remus chuckled awkwardly. “Um, we meant, write about us four,” he pointed between the four of them.

Peter dropped his head back and grumbled something. James squinted slightly. “Well…” He glanced at Sirius. Sirius raised a brow. James sighed. He nodded, “Go ahead.”

Sirius grinned, excitedly gesticulating with his hands. “Okay, it’s the perfect story, see, our friendship is like this,” he crossed his forefinger over his middle and threw it up proudly. “We’re thick as thieves, we’re brothers, and we can make it funny. We got four characters we can flesh out to the audience, not too many, not too little. And we got the story of how we ended up brothers, even though we’re not related at all, and even though our actual families never wanted us to meet!”

Peter mumbled something like, “I’d be so concerned if you and Rem were actually brothers,” but Sirius stubbornly ignored this.

James seemed to grin at Peter slightly (betrayal), but then he turned to Sirius and carried on the train of thought with equal, unmatchable vigour, “We have angst! Sorry, mate, but like… we have you, the one raised to behave as if he’s superior to everyone, we have me, the one raised to treat everyone like equals except the people from ‘families like yours’, we have Remus, the one raised in complete isolation and who despised all people and thought he didn’t need anyone, and we have Peter, the one terrified of people ‘cause he was molly-coddled by his mother!”

“Mate—” Peter and Remus started. They glanced at each other, and nodded firmly.

“Mate,” Peter said again. “I mean…”

“It does work,” Remus grudgingly admitted.

“But.” Peter stated.

“Yeah. Those characters ain’t us,” Remus denied.

“Yeah. Those are some other characters, who would make quite a good script together,” Peter asserted.

“But they’re not us,” they insisted together.

“I didn’t despise all people, I just preferred a quiet life in a cottage with my parents, and I was a little, tiny, very miniscule bit offended when they carted me off to boarding school.”

Sirius bit back a grin. Remus was very cute. And a total antisocial freak. He couldn’t deny it, otherwise what would Sirius love him for? As a best mate, though.

“And I was not terrified of people, I was just a bit twitchy and shy, you can’t blame a guy for being nervous around new people. It was not because my mum molly-coddled me! She is very sweet and lovely, and always makes sure I never get hurt. I just wasn’t used to being somewhere without her.”

Sirius could not hold in his laugh at this. He and James toppled over each other laughing, somehow landing on the floor together. “He—” James wheezed, and Sirius nodded in agreement.

“They—” Sirius replied, and James cackled even harder, clapping Sirius on the back.

“I’m dying,” he coughed.

“Same,” Sirius croaked, still guffawing. Remus and Peter looked very unimpressed.

“Alright!” James finally swallowed his laughter. “You don’t see Sirius and I denying anything, do you?”

Sirius nodded. “See, we at least accept that we were obnoxiously spoilt brats, who realised how to be better through the power of—”

“F!”

“R!”

“I!”

“Shut up!” Peter yelled.

“We get it,” Remus rolled his eyes.

“But do you?” James pressed, eyes widened in comical concern as he leaned towards Remus. “Do you really? Can you say it?”

Remus gave him a dry look.

“I’ll give you a hint,” James whisper-yelled in mock secrecy.

“Friendship,” Sirius whisper-yelled, and he and James gave them a show of jazz hands. Sirius glanced at Remus. See, James does the jazz hands.

Remus scrunched his nose. Lame.

You’re lame.

Peter exhaled tiredly. “Guys,” he pointedly looked between Sirius and Remus.

James mumbled something under his breath, and Sirius frowned. “Huh?”

James leapt up panickedly. “Yeah? What? I didn’t say ‘quit eye-fucking’! Why are you looking at me like that?”

Sirius glared at him, while Peter snorted. “Nice save, James.”

“Anyway,” Sirius said, not looking at Remus. “The characters can’t have our actual names, so we need different ones. Like… Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs.”

“What?” James blinked.

“The names of the characters.”

“Those are some weird as fuck names,” Remus bluntly stated.

“Maybe they’re a work in progress?” Peter suggested.

“No,” Sirius began smiling maniacally. “They’re… interesting. People would love it. They’re… deeper than just nicknames. They represent the character.”

James pursed his lips. “Hmm… I see it. I think I know who they represent. Prongs is…?”

Sirius nodded.

“Huh,” James smiled. “I like it.”

“I still don’t see it,” Remus frowned. Peter had already given up, once again ignoring them for the ceiling.

Sirius again began excitedly gesticulating from his seat on the floor. “I’m calling the film ‘The Marauders’!”

“Why—” Remus started.

“Oh!” James interrupted. “Remember when Minnie thought we were making a personal attack on her when we stole — I mean borrowed — her sparkly highlighters? She called us a gang of troublesome marauders! Full of disrespect! She was so pissed, she loved those highlighters, never let the class use them. As an English teacher, I think she had a duty to give us the resources we needed, actually.”

Remus sighed. “She did; she gave us regular highlighters. You were just greedy. I honestly see her side of this.”

Sirius brushed him off with a hand. “Don’t act like you didn’t help us, M— Remus. Anyway, yes, P— James, that is where the name is from. It’s perfect. Eye-catching.”

“No, it’s—”

“You’re lame,” Sirius interrupted with a smirk, not even letting Remus finish.

Remus smiled. “And therefore I can recognise fellow lameness. ‘The Marauders’ is lame.”

Sirius shrugged. “I like lame things.” Remus. “Anyway! The Marauders, who are Moony, Wormy, Pads and Prongsie, are all roomed together, and are forced to share that room for all their boarding school years. It can go in two ways. They despise each other, or they become brothers!”

Peter looked up. “I think we need more themes. Friendship is a good one, and the boarding school setting, but viewers need more. We need the antagonist, some petty rivalry or disagreements, a smattering of romance, an aim…”

“Well,” Sirius continued, “That’s easy, just have a romance between Moony and Padfoot.” And then his brain caught up to his mouth and his eyes widened.

Peter smirked. “Oh, I think I know who these characters represent now.” James was just laughing. Remus looked thoroughly confused.

Sirius stared at him in shock. “Moo— shit, Remus—”

“I’m Moony?” He asked. “And you want the romance between me and… Padfoot?” He glanced around the room, looking for the person represented by ‘Padfoot’. James was still laughing uncontrollably. “Who’s Padfoot?” Remus finally asked.

“I— uh, well, I— me?” Sirius babbled.

Remus looked at him, shrugged, then nodded. “Okay. Let’s get to writing then.”

“I— what?” Sirius stared at him.

“What?” Remus repeated, looking up from his desk in confusion.

“So, you just— um, you— I— romance.”

Remus nodded slowly. “Sure. In the script.”

“Yes!” Sirius cried, leaping up to sit next to Remus. “Let’s write this script! Scene starts—”

“Woah, woah,” Remus said, plucking the pen from his fingers. “First we need to write out the plot.”

“Yes!” Sirius nodded.

James and Peter shared a glance. “You guys get started,” James said. “Pete and I are gonna take our coffee break.” Sirius looked at him in panic, threatening to kill him with his eyes, but James didn’t seem to notice as he and Peter slipped out of the room. And Sirius was left with Remus, who was perfectly casual while Sirius was having an internal meltdown.

Remus began planning, “In the beginning, Moony enters the dorm first, glancing at the four beds and scowling. Then Wormy enters, sees the ‘scary Moony’, and stumbles off to the farthest bed. Then Prongs enters, beaming and talking a mile a minute. Lastly, Padfoot, who joins in with Prongs’ conversation immediately.”

Sirius grinned. “Then they find out each other’s surnames, and immediately think they should be enemies. But then they figure it’s not that bad, and they won’t have to tell their parents anyway. Wormy shyly joins in their conversation, and although Moony wants to steadfastly ignore them, they pester him until he speaks.”

“When they begin lessons, sitting next to each other and chatting, other students notice the clear social divide, and make fun of them.”

“But that only makes them stronger friends. And then they mess around for the rest of the year.”

“That’s good,” Remus smiled. “Next year, they find out a little bit more about each other, especially their home lives, and they realise Padfoot’s isn’t as happy as everyone seems to believe. Basically, his parents are utter dickheads.”

Sirius flashed Remus a smirk. “Prongs also has this hero-complex where he thinks he needs to be ‘proper and gentlemanly’, and pursues this poor red-head called…”

“Doe.”

“Doe, who he thinks should be his ‘lady’. She hates it.”

“Wormy comes out of his shell a little bit more, but still feels a little over-shadowed, like he needs to impress everyone. He’s also a little homesick, as the only person he doesn’t feel like he has to impress is his mum. And he doesn’t understand the ‘romance’ stuff Prongs is now obsessed with.”

“And Moony,” Sirius looked at Remus. “Is still trying to distance himself from everyone. Padfoot only thinks this makes him more mysterious.”

“And that’s why he keeps pestering Moony?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. I see how you could make this romantic.”

“Yeah.” Sirius was leaning closer to Remus.

Remus turned, and suddenly their noses were brushing. Sirius snorted. “You have a big nose.”

“Sod off. I’m in the middle of learning how to like my nose.”

“I already like your nose.”

“Oh.”

“I like everything about you.”

“Are these… lines for the script?”

“Sure.” Sirius stared at Remus, noses still touching.

“You’re making me dizzy,” Remus laughed, closing his eyes.

“You always make me dizzy,” Sirius looked at Remus’s eyelashes, fluttering open like thin, silken threads, delicately brushing over his skin.

“These are some good lines.”

“Oh? Not lame, then?” Sirius honestly thought they were incredibly lame.

“They’re working too well for me to recognise their lameness.”

“Good.” And Sirius pressed his nose against Remus’s even more, and Remus was pressing back, and then… their lips brushed.

And then… their lips brushed more firmly. Then they stuck together, pressing against each other. Their eyes widened. And then slowly, they closed shut, while their lips did the opposite, and opened up, and warmth flooded between them in torrential rivers, fast and hot and overwhelming. It was like deep-sea vents, the currents bubbling with the scorching heat of volcanoes as they kept surging and flowing and streaming. Sirius was drowning, but he didn’t care, because he was only sinking closer to home, into the arms of his best mate, who was most definitely and decidedly not his brother.

He sighed into the skin connecting Remus’s neck to shoulder. “I don’t want the romance to be just between the characters.”

Remus wrapped his arms tighter around him. “Same.”

[rocksibblingsau]

Honestly, in only one chapter you have already written one of my favorite Poppy interpretations in the entire fandom. I always thought that one of her most characterizing but actually underrepresented traits is her obsolete complete lack of emotional intelligence while still being one of the kindest and well-meaning souls in the Trolls universe.

She is so similar to Branch in that way she has a clear difficulty reading and understanding people and their actions (omg they're sooo autism4autism coded fr fr /hj), they only feel so different from each other because while Branch fills that void of emotional intelligence with self-doubt and pessimism, Poppy fills it with optimism and always believing that everyone only have the best of intentions at heart.

Both of them love others with all of their hearts and loyalty, the only difference is, Poppy grew up never fearing that her trust and love were or could even be misplaced. That anyone should willing choose to harm and betray her.

And that is another reason why I love your portray of Poppy so much, because while she is still very trusting and naive, she still refuses to be vulnerable around others. Not because she is afraid to be hurt or rejected like Branch, but because she is so naturally self-sacrificing and loves the people around her so deeply that she refuses to worry them or purposely make them uncomfortable. Poppy is not worried that she is greying because she herself is going through it, but because she doesn't want her friends and father to worry about her.

She doesn't actively thinks lesser of herself like Branch does, but actually does it passively. There isn't a conscious thought process of "My issues and problems are less deserving of acknowledgement" but she continually chooses to place others' feelings, comfort and safety above her own... I going to be honest here, even I didn't realize how much Branch and Poppy paralleled and complimented each other before writing this. But the world is full of surprises I guess????

Sorry for the big ramble, really, but amazing chapter and character writing from your part nonetheless. Very excited for chapter 28 and I would like to officially state my guest for the mysterious character as Dickory, the beloved tiny angry goatman.

Thank you so much! Poppy has some fun parallels to Branch because you're right, she does seem to have some issues understanding people, as well as also refusing to be vulnerable in front of others. Like Branch she tends to go through a lot of thoughts really fast, but for the most part she tends not to assume the worst of people.

She doesn't fear being rejected for being grey, she fears making her friends miserable with her own misery.

[louspinx]

Implied Rape / and SA in WC

For fuck sales I'm sorry, but people who think that rape and sexual assault don't exist among warriors are complete morons. Somehow you can fathom the idea of pedophilia and grooming, and genocide and such other topics in the books, but someone's rape is where it's pushing the lines and that it's a stretch. You people are actually weird. So as a sexual abuse victim, I'm going to give my perspective on this because I'm actually sick of it. 

To start, I want to say that rape will not always be outright forced. Coerced consent is rape. Pressured consent is rape. Befriending women for motives beyond an actual relationship and for just sex is rape because you are essentially leading through a process of desensitization, manipulation, and Coercion. And to add on using physically abuse to scare your victim into fulfilling your needs and this applies here considering Tom does just that.. Quite literally, it is a premeditated sexual assault. 

Marital rape is a thing where they pressure or coerce their spouse into doing sexual deeds despite them not wanting to. In this case, Tom played the nice guy and pretended like he loved her until they got into a relationship so he could get sex out of her. Yes. These cats have sex because, quite literally, it is implied every time it says, "I'm expecting kits" or "I'm carrying kits." 

They know what sex is. Though it's not explicit in nature,. He acts lovingly with the intent to desensitize her to the idea of him not being a bad person. His motive is to get kittens out of her because he can control her with them and only reveal his true colors once it happens. Tom had  power over  both turtle tail and Bumble, not only because of how much larger he was than them but also because they were in a marriage where she loved him too much to see him for what he was until after he made his intentions clear. 

Turtle Tail: "How do you think it happened? I made a mistake. I missed you all so much. Tom seemed strong and friendly, I thought I could move on and make a new life with him. But when I realized I was expecting kits, he... he changed."

Gray Wing: "If he hurt you..."

Turtle Tail: "Oh, no! Tom was still friendly, but he didn't want to make any plans for the kits with me. And Bumble seemed uncomfortable any time I mentioned them. But neither of them would admit that anything was wrong."

 - page 19 of Thunder Rising 

I'm sorry, but this text seems very rapey. Call it a stretch if you'd like, but I could give less of a fuck, honestly. Tom had shown his true colors after he realized Turtle Tail was pregnant because he knew he could use their kits against her to control her. He kidnapped her for the purpose of controlling her and would've abused their kits regardless if Turtle Tail did not come back. Tom threatened not to tell Bumble and stated that he was beating her because Turtle Tail left. 

In chapter two, when Turtle Tail returns, she notes that there is no father of her kits and that she does not want him involved in her life. She acknowledges that he is abusive and a bully who physically assaults her. In chapter two, when Turtle Tail returns, she notes that there is no father of her kits and that she does not want him involved in her life. She acknowledges that he is abusive and a bully who physically assaults her. When Thunder meets her, he speaks of her as if she means little, bashing her for taking away their kittens and claiming that she "stole them." He thinks little of his children as only pawns in possession and control over his wife.

I’m sorry, but if you still fail to see how a man who befriends a woman, who then goes on to spoon-feed her false facade and then uses the mate title to coerce her into having sex with him as not being rape, you are not very smart and lack genuine analytical skills. Yes, I get that Warriors is very terrible at hinting at the obvious, but this was a very clear message of domestic violence, coercion of rape, and premeditated sexual assault. It’s not a stretch because it is the literal reality.

 To say that rape makes the series “too dark” while at the same time knowing that there are multiple groomers and pedophiles running around in the series is ridiculous. 

And let’s not forget, slash, he used to be apart of the One Eyes group, and he was promised Star Flower as a wife. He physically restrains her and holds her down, getting on top of her and holding her captive while Clear Sky does absolutely nothing. And directly after that, he gets uncomfortably close despite being told to stop, licks her cheek, and is extremely creepy about it. 

Unwanted touch is sexual assault, guys. Put on your thinking cap, because I know you’re smart enough to think. I have seen some imply that Yarrowleaf’s relationship with Nettle is implied to be a case of rape, and I disagree considering the circumstances in which the Shadowclan cats were living while in the kin. And imposter Bramblestar is hinted at with how much he kept her confide in her den and his overrate affection for her. He’s a canon groomer of Shadowsight and Bristlefrost so I wouldn’t put it past the Erin’s to try this shit.

[just-a-random-dead-thing]

~Lost and Found~ (Larissa Weems x Student!Reader)

The reader is 19 in this fic!!! The show makes it clear they have students well above the age of consent.

My undying love for this woman and her actress mixed with the honesty concerning lack of fics for her character has finally compelled me to publish something. This fic is completely self indulgent and probably not worth your time but if you for some reason feel compelled to read on, thank you and enjoy!

Chapter one (1k words)

Be warned this is very shitty angst and do not expect it to get better as I continue on. If anything expect it to get worse. Nothing for this chapter but please be warned moving forward this fic will discuss some triggering topics which will be made clear at the start of each chapter they appear. Also eventual smut you have been warned...or teased?

Finally thank you to my friend who edited this because it's the only reason it is semi-readable, they're the best <3

The rain drops raced down the cold slabs of glass, through which I watched the students running late to their classes. They sprint across the courtyard with books above their heads, sacrificing their notes for the sake of keeping themselves dry.

I hear a faint ringing. Noises blurring into high pitched radio waves as I tune back in, slowly coming to the right frequency to hear the disgruntled voice of my teacher calling my name. I say nothing in return.

Dragging my attention to the front of the class, where my teacher is writing something on the board pertaining to- werewolf procreation? Vampire sex ed? I can't keep up with the 50 different (and equally boring) lectures this man gives.

Once again I find my mind wandering off to far away places. Anywhere but this grey box, which traps me within its walls like a glass traps a spider. I have given up on any hopes of understanding today's topic of useless information, so instead I retrieve my book from my school bag and begin to read. The Outsider by Albert Camus, ironic and meaningless when you're in a school for outcasts.

I am half way through the chapter when my teacher's grating voice once again bursts any sense of joy I am experiencing in his class. This time I just can't be bothered listening to the lecture on the importance of whatever the fuck he's teaching so I get up and walk out. He continues to get louder the further I get out the door, so I flip him off for good measure. Come on, seriously! How are you that bad at your job I can't figure out the topic of today's lesson even when I put the effort in to try? If I require this much to even figure out what to put as the title of notes then your teaching certainly isn't important enough, and you aren't good enough at your job to keep me in that room any longer.

I slowly make my way through the empty halls of the academy, continuing to read as I venture back to my dorm. Thankfully, I don't have to share a room. If I had a roommate, they'd probably be dead within the week. Probably not on purpose, but you never know - I could have just been having a really bad day, and thought a light spot of murder would cheer me up.

I bang into something large, falling over my feet onto the cold stone ground. I reach to pick up my book, but before I can reach it, it’s plucked from the ground by a hand, which my eyes follow up to a very disapproving Principal’s face. Oops? What am I meant to say, sorry? It was an empty corridor, she could have easily walked around me.

She's always needlessly difficult for no reason.

"Y/N..." Weems says seething, scowl firmly fixed on her face. God, the annoyance is really seeping into her tone and body language today. Normally she at least keeps the plastic smile up, while passive aggressively giving you a lecture on how you've disappointed her, harmed the school community and destroyed its image. Hmm... the board must have cut her budget for the semester.

I meet her eyes, nearly breaking my neck in the process since she's over a foot taller than me. I smirk as I address her. "Headmistress...I didn't see you there, out for a morning stroll?" She scrunches her nose briefly at my coy attitude before replying, her words like venom.

"No Mx/Mr/Miss L/N, I'm actually coming to find you because once again you've managed to piss off the teaching staff, and I have to deal with the repercussions of them complaining about you."

Honestly, I only processed one thing she said, and that was Weems swearing. She's never done that before. Hot... definitely hot.

I chuckle with a reply. "Well looks like I've out done myself this time. I've got you in such a state that the perfect facade has fallen and you're even swearing, that's not very school appropri-"

I am interrupted part way through my gloating by a sudden sharp pain in my back. I come to realise I have been slammed against the rough wall of the corridor, causing the air to leave my lungs and leaving me helplessly gasping for air.

She leans in close with an almost deadly expression as she whispers, "This is my final warning. Make light of this situation again and I'll have you in detention with me every lunch, free, and evening for the week on top of whatever I am going to have to arrange for your other grievances.

“Skipping class and disrespecting the teaching staff - not to mention, myself - with your snarky comments and nonchalant attitude when it comes to your studies. You refuse tutoring despite being seriously behind on control of your powers - do you even know if you have any? You certainly haven't displayed any thus far throughout the two years you've been at this school.

“Sometimes, I seriously question why you chose to transfer to this school, and why I even accepted your application. It had nothing Nevermore looks for in a student and you've clearly shown you don't intend to work on that."

Listening to her words as they become increasingly more personally, tears prick the corners of my eyes but I do not allow them to fall. I refuse to show weakness towards this woman who knows nothing about me. My brief sorrow turns to anger, as I respond with possibly my last words whilst I'm alive, "Go. Fuck. Your. Self."

I desperately try to escape her grip, but just like a fly in a spider-web, it is hopeless. She is a foot taller than me and twice my weight. Her arm presses harder against my chest, air struggling to get in and out as the carbon dioxide begins to drown me. Blurred darkness slowly eclipses my view of her.

I mean, there's worse things to see in your dying moments.

[anonymous-dentist]

sorry to bring up the qsmp admins situation (i don't know what else to call it) but imo, i think the qsmp will be like, 80% better after this. and not just from the whole admin perspective but also from the story perspective.

the biggest problem i had with the story was the lack of communication between the streamers and the admins (baghera and cellbit were forced to finish up their purgatory arc stories in about 2 hours with no warning beforehand. and thus we didn't get a stream with richas and pomme going to save them like we thought we would.) (pol and slime have basically been blacklisted from the server for ''lore'' preposes for about a month) (the whole egg going missing fiasco not having an outline/plan according to Lea) now that we know that the reason behind that was because of the higher ups not letting admins talk to the streamers (their co-workers btw)

i definitely think that the qsmp will come out better from this. even if it's a hard process now it's definitely going to be better after this. i'm actually pretty excited for the changes since there will most definitely be more communication between the teams and it will be a good change overall.

it's easy to look at the situation now and say ''qsmp is over'' or ''qsmp is never coming back from this'' but imo, this is a good thing from all perspectives :D as somebody who has been ''following'' q for some time, it's clear that he cares about this project and with the union and the french streamers' statements there is no way he's not going to intact the changes he said he would. i just think for now we need to be patient and hope for the best :)

feel free to delete this btw. this is just me rambling.

Nah, I completely agree with you. It’s absolutely horrible that these changes have had to be made in the first place, but the fact that they’re happening is a good sign that the server is going to bounce back.

One of the biggest problems with the server up to this point- and it’s a problem everybody’s been noticing since Purgatory started- has been a manufactured over reliance on the admins for any stories to be pushed forward. Like, the ccs stopped being able to have any impact on the story starting in October with the Mini-Me event changing overnight from a Cellbit-exclusive lore mission to a server mission that a lot of people were very unhappy with.

And then November happened, and Purgatory forcibly cut off so many individual stories, and admin lore streams started being the only way new discoveries were made. Cucurucho and Elena essentially replaced the roles of the players, and I can only imagine how stressful it would’ve been for the admins playing them to be streaming that whole time if they had no experience with streaming and were just told to do it “for the lore”. Like, that kind of sudden spotlight could NOT have been in the job description.

This change in approach to the lore? Bad, almost nobody liked it, borderline ruined the server for a majority of serious lore heads like me.

The server slowing down now and moving the focus back to the ccs- the people it should’ve been about this entire time!!!- is a REALLY GOOD MOVE! It’ll bring back people who left because of admin interference, it’ll make people more invested in the server because their povs of choice finally get to do stuff on the server. And, more importantly, it’ll allow the remaining rp admins to rest after they’ve been forced to carry the server on their backs for month with no warning. Preventing burnout on their part, and reigniting a passion for the server in both the ccs and the audience

[everybody-loves-purdy]

Ooh you think splashtail’s family are directly involved? Tell us all your theories!

Ok so this might end up being a long post so I apologise for that. But basically every suspicious RiverClan cat that we know of has been part of the same extended family, so in recent days my sister and I have been discussing a theory in which this whole conspiracy is a family working together in order to get power.

Right so first things first: the family. Here is a family tree I quickly whipped up (Anyone with an X in their name is dead).

So right off the bat (and this is where things could fall apart if my memory is off) but every single suspicious cat we have been presented with so far is part of this extended family.

We all know how Duskfur, Mallownose, Splashtail, and Curlfeather could be considered suspicious. But also Podlight and Fognose are not in the clear (despite their lack of narrative focus) due to them being on the patrol that Reedwhisker went missing on. And even Brackenpelt was very vocally against Mistystar in the argument that killed her.

I think Petalfur’s parents and siblings are in the clear, she died moons ago and there’s no sign of any of suspicion from that side of the family.

I know it could be coincidence that all these suspicious cats are from the same extended family, but at the same time I find it weird that not a single (that I remember) non-family member has been presented as suspicious. And we know the Erins are looking at Frostpaw’s family tree since Owlnose was cited in-text as her uncle.

Speaking of Owlnose, why exactly did he choose specifically Splashtail as his deputy? I love Owlnose and I don’t want him to be in any way part of this conspiracy but it’s a question that’s kept coming back to me. It’s not even like he hesitated, he immediately named Splashtail as his deputy, but why? If it is a family affair then there is a good chance Owlnose at least knows something and this deputyship wasn’t coincidental.

The cat connecting both these sides of the family is Jayclaw, who has been dead for a while with a suspicious lack of clarity on how he exactly died presented to us. But I feel like he could have been involved somehow, even if someone ended up murdering him I feel like that would be due to him trying to back out or something.

And I don’t think every single cat in the family is knowingly involved either, but a significant number of them are.

My proposal is that this extended family wants to rule RiverClan, the plan was someone from each side of the family (Duskfur’s and Mallownose’s) would have been appointed to a position of power once Mistystar was manipulated into choosing someone as her deputy and then dying. So for example if Duskfur was made deputy she would have then made Mallownose her deputy once Mistystar passed or something. Frostpaw would be how exactly they got their chosen cat deputy in the first place, by giving her a false sign. But obviously Mistystar died unexpectedly and it all went south from there. The cats are aware of nepotism as we’ve seen last arc, ThunderClan has been completely family run for about 15 years now.

As for some of the finer details about this potential family conspiracy? I’m not sure. I think Curlfeather’s death could have been the result of an internal disagreement and Splashtail someone acted alone in killing her. Jayclaw is the cat that connects these two families together but he’s been dead for moons, what was his involvement in all this, how did he die? Was he killed on purpose to make Frostkit’s visions seem more real? But why would he be killed if he was the centrepiece of this family and this conspiracy? Did he get cold feet at the thought of using his daughter as a tool?

At the very least this family theory could explain how exactly Splashtail and Fognose are involved seeing as the process of trying to make Frostkit look like a medicine cat would have begun when they were apprentices.

I’m sorry if this come across as rambly or anything, I hope I’ve gotten this theory across well enough.

[applebloomer1]

I absolutely adore the relationship between error and pj in loyal servant

Oh, I'm going to do a deep dive about this one...

The relationship between Error and Paperjam was both fun and heartbreaking to write. Primarily because their story isn't one that gets a truly happy ending. Its not a "I'm going to completely change my personality and be a better father, and everything will be perfect." sort of ordeal.

Error loves PJ, but he is unable to express it. He's too wrapped up in the reputation he's made for himself to believe he's capable of being a father. He says; "I left. That's what I did for you, PJ. That was the only thing I could do for you." Which is a testimate to how he cares but believes his child is better off without him. In his mind, being around would only make things worse for PJ.

On the flipside, Paperjam never understood this. They grew up believing that the only reason either of their parents were distant and/or downright cruel was because of who they were as a person. They're too much like Ink, or they're too much like Error. That definitely helped to breed PJ's desire to find balance. The desire to destroy the other gods didn't truly stem from hating what their parents fighting did to others, but more so what it did to them. In their mind, the feud between Ink and Error was to blame for their lack of family ties.

To hear Error tell them that's not the case flipped a switch. It told them that the reason he wasn't there wasn't because he hated Paperjam's very existence, but because he was afraid to hurt one of the few things he loved within the multiverse. His hands have caused pain and suffering throughout the entire multiverse, so how was he supposed to use them to be gentle and kind? He wasn't sure, so he kept his distance. It was out of love.

Then theres my boyfriend's reason for liking the dynamic.

Error tells them: "You are like me." And: "It was for your own good. I had to keep you away." which could also be read as Error's way of trying to prevent PJ from ending up like him. Error believes himself to be this source of evil. Everything he's done has been for a selfish and cruel reason. If Paperjam were to see him; were to look up to him, they might just end up the same way. He doesn't want that for Paperjam.

He became especially hostile towards Paperjam during the whole Book of a Thousand Souls incident, possibly because of some thought process along the lines of: This is something I'd do. I left so you wouldn't become this way. Why are you still being this way? Why aren't you better than me?

Point is, Error has a very difficult time with expressing love. Him telling Paperjam that he only wanted what was best for them is probably the closest he'll ever get to sounding like an actual father, which he notes in the story.

When Error admitted these things to Paperjam, they stiffen and go quiet yet still end up with watering sockets. There's so much relief and pain that it overwhelms them. All they ever wanted was to believe that somehow they were loved. And Error finally made sure that they knew it. Perhaps not in the way PJ hoped, but it was clear enough for them to understand. They know Error loves them, and thats that matters to PJ. Anything else is a bonus.

....Sorry I like talking about characters. Asks like these will get long responses out of me.

[wishmaker-astra]

Out of curiosity, what exactly is the sort of “thought process” you have when using telekinesis? Like, how does it work for you?

Do you just kind of, think about it and it moves? Or is it more like having to imagine picking up the object with imaginary hands? Or is it more like applying a force to an object rather than interacting with it directly? And how much mental strain is there to lift and maintain?

Ok, so, this is a pretty difficult question to answer due to just how it works for me. It would be a bit personal for some, but, well, I'm pretty open about my psychic status, so I don't mind answering it and expect the occasional question like this given the fact I'm pretty loud and proud about being psychic.

It's also a good way to get my mind off of other things at the moment. I'm going to be info dumping here given that.

Alright, so... it's outright just like moving another limb. I'm not really sure how to explain it better than that in some ways. There's conscious control, effort, and similar, but it doesn't have a direct analogue to "wanting" something or needing to visualize it. The control is on a more fundamental and lower level than that. Imagine trying to move your arm, and techniques in some ways are sort of like... learning a new gymnastics routine? A new martial arts move/style/technique? It's a little bit hard to explain to someone who isn't also psychic in a similar way.

I've heard others talk about just "willing" something, or it depending on your emotional state beyond the way it would for someone doing complicated work with their hands would be. That isn't really the case for me. I just... DO... it. Well, now.

The first time doing these things was pretty different. I was figuratively slamming my head against the wall until ANYTHING worked for MONTHS despite having very concrete reasons for knowing I was definitely and absolutely psychic. Like, basically from as soon as I knew I was psychic I desperately was clawing at ability to get telepathy to make communication much much more feasible for the average person. It took me seven months of heavy practice to get my first real results. The docs are pretty sure I had to grow completely new neural connections.

That said, from my experimentation, as far as I can tell, it's still, well, physical for lack of a better word. It's applying forces, just in really novel ways and with unusual methods. Don't ask me where the reaction force that isn't on the object itself is hiding when it comes to telekinesis. I have no clue. It's got to be hidden in there SOMEWHERE. Especially since I can sort of control if it's a field of force or a point force. Well, I CAN, I just don't have much practice doing it yet.

As for effort to lift and maintain... that's been changing. At first it was a struggle to do and hold onto anything. Now? Yeah, I can do a lot of stuff easily, and occasionally catch myself doing some things reflexively. Moving shit around the table so I can get at it with my physical hands, lifting door handle/turning door knob when kind of out of it at night, that sort of thing. I think it's analogous to how well a muscle has been trained in a lot of ways. Or... maybe a toddler learning how to walk and am now at the point I can sort-of crawl?

Sorry for the wall of text, and sorry if that wasn't clear. This is unfortunately just somewhat hard to convey well. We're talking about qualia here. Hopefully that gives you some insight though.

[dungeons-are-too-cold]

(if im being completely honest id have to talk about hotch being autistic and the double empathy problem lol, but theres more there than ur probs asking for)

So naturally I'm not OP but,, I'd love it if you elaborated on that!!

okay so youre opening a can of worms lol so i'll keep this short and link one of my longer ish posts lol.

I think a large part of their breakdown in communication has to do with the fact that they don't know Hotch is autistic.

for those who don't know, the double empathy problem very very simply put is the understanding that people with similar neurotypes have an easier time understanding and empathizing with each other and that cross neurotype communication and empathy is much more difficult because of a lack of basic understanding of the other person's experiences and thought processes. With hotch being autsitic and hayley being neurotypical, there is a difference in the way that they communicate fundamentally.

I feel like both hotch and hayley in many instances are communicating in ways that they feel are incredibly clear, but because they are communicating across neurotypes, they aren't telling their partner what they need or want in a way the other can receive. There's a false assumption of understanding between them.

if they had known he was autistic, i think they would have been able to approach their communication issues as differences in style rather than opperating on the assumption that the other person isnt listening to them. They didn't know they weren't communicating in the same way, so they assumed they other person didnt care. They didnt know they were communicating differently so they had no way to address it, to address what i consider the root of the problem.

in no way am i saying that hayley was some kind of malicious harmful person, and i'm also not saying hotch is absolved of everything that happened. I just think things could have been very different with a base understanding of how they both function as people and the differences between them and their neurotypes. An understanding of their differences and their "double empathy problem" would at least allow them to address things consciously, with all the facts of the situation, and be able to have a practical logical approach at least to some degree.

This post here has some specific examples of the breakdown and me pointing out ways i think his autism presents itself in their relationship! sorry for such a long answer but i could literally word vomit for three days straight and not get up all the thoughts and feelings i have lmao

[doppelnatur]

Replies are turned off on the post and I would feel weird talking about this openly on my blog in front of my followers if I reblogged it, so I hope you don't mind me contributing to the conversation via an ask? (I'm discussing abuse specifically bc that's what I have experience with)

I've had similar thoughts as an abuse survivor bc the abuse I experienced was similar in a lot of ways to the oppression I've experienced, but (as a personal opinion) I don't think discussing abuse survivors as their own marginalized class is a useful framework mainly bc of the fact that there's not a coherent oppressor class in abuse. Our current definition of marginalization involves a class benefiting directly or indirectly from pushing another class into the margins of society, and I don't think abuse on its own necessarily fits that definition. It would be difficult to define a class based solely on whether or not individuals have performed specific actions (abusing another person), and when we consider social bias against victims and etc like you mentioned the lines become even blurrier bc those actions are performed by people other than the abuser. I guess the class could be "everyone who hasn't been abused" but that would still be difficult bc people can simultaneously be survivors of abuse and also abusers themselves (as in familial cycles of abuse, for example). There's also the issue that "people who haven't been abused" don't necessarily materially benefit as a class from the fact alone that abuse has occurred or survivors aren't supported. Neurotypical people may have privilege over survivors with PTSD/depression/etc, men may materially benefit from the fact that woman survivors are disempowered, cishet people may benefit as a class from homophobic and transphobic abuse that serves to uphold the cisheteropatriarchy, and so on, but those are examples of existing forms of oppression and I can't personally think of any examples resembling class privilege that aren't

To be clear, I'm not arguing here and I hope it doesn't come across that way. I'm more like philosophizing, I guess? It's an interesting conversation to have and there's definitely something to be said for the similarities between abuse and oppression and how victims of both are treated. I also agree that it's definitely worthwhile to discuss the intersection between abuse survivors and oppressed groups bc there's definitely some sort of something going on where abuse and oppression feed into each other. I don't really have an answer for what else I would call it. Maybe it would be more accurate to say that abuse is a tool of oppression, since they so often go hand in hand and even when the victim isn't part of an oppressed group themself the abuse is usually still acting to uphold oppressive systems in one way or another? (Cis male survivors being emasculated works to uphold misogyny, for example.) But these are my two cents on the discussion if you want them. I'm sorry this turned into an essay 😅

replies look to me to be turned on? Maybe i limited them to only mutuals some time when the transphobes were once again on to my blog sorry about that. 🙈

Thank you so much for all of this!!! You're like completely right I think. And don't worry at all, like that's why i phrased it all as questions and a conversation cause it didn't feel fully right to me either and I think you really do pin point why. I also think often times other survivors who haven't processed the violence they have experienced can be more cruel than people who were never on any side of it. I'm fully including myself in this category, I do not mean to point fingers, which is I think part of why this felt relevant to me, like unlearning my own biases against survivors feels a lot like the unlearning of other -isms.

The only benefitter of violence and the lack of support and accountability systems that actually care for victims' needs I can think of would be the state, which is an institution and not a class of people. But the state as the institution that has the monopoly on legitimized violence would have an interest in the upkeep of social hierarchy through violence and in normalizing the tools it itself uses to exert it's power and it (financially, in the short term) benefits from not taking preventative measures and emergency support and long-term care structures. But that's really abstract and truely not like. An oppressor class. It's kind of a similar conversation to when people were talking about how schools often actually benefit from bullying and refuse to acknowledge the actual causes of it.

But yeah like what you're saying about abuse as a tool of oppression makes a lot of sense. Maybe a term like rape culture would be more helpful than like what I suggested? Maybe denial culture, but that sounds too gentle almost? I think what I want from this is some sort of framework for unifying the struggles of survivors of all kinds and for talking about the ways in which people are biased against believing and supporting survivors and also how like the structures we live within are actively hostile to acknowledging huge sources of stress and trauma like the climate crisis but also oppression and marginalization, genocides, etc and also to building effective supports for the people harmed.

still not sure if this is making sense but thank you so so much for your contribution that's really helpful!

[hologramcowboy]

https://www.tumblr.com/hologramcowboy/714868495147532288/jensen-is-trying-really-hard-to-shake-the-truth

I sent you the Sounds of Someday anon and I have a theory about this.

I think Jensen is playing the cutesy AAs by telling the story, but also speaking his truth that the marriage isn’t happy at home if you listen to the clues.

Hear me out here:

Like all actors - and something that was even acknowledged at the con - they are expected by their camps to sell certain images. Everything they portray in public, every project they attach to, all of it - they are carefully designed and created.

Jensen accepted the design that he and Elta had a great marriage, that they were Ken and Barbie. I think he genuinely loved her and thought this was it for him, so he allowed that image to be sold.

However, I think Elta is massively insecure (which is actually one of the biggest red flags for narcissists, ironically) and that sort of insecurity ruin marriages. Add in distance, starting off through infidelity, and his huge popularity - it’s a recipe for her to rapidly become unhinged within the relationship. We know she had plastic surgery in her late teens / early 20s and that women who choose to portray overly bitchy and slutty women tend to be insecure which only adds to it. Then we add in the bullying of other women, the need to stamp her claim that she caught him - this woman hates herself.

So I think “someday” was home and eventually that home caught on fucking fire because of that insecurity.

In keeping with that sold camp image, he has to tell cutesy stories about his wife. So in response to something that JDM said, he latched onto something that was new information that the AAs are foaming at the mouth for.

But here’s where him speaking his own truth quietly comes in.

He knows he has a song that literally references the “not today but someday”. He is careful with his words in keeping with his image. But then he still mentions that note knowing he has a song that talks about the fact that even “though the sounds of someday maybe be home” - his “not today but someday” that came true and became what he thought he wanted - his world is still falling apart and it’s not all sunshine and rainbows?

That’s not an accident. This was playing both sides. Selling the image he’s supposed to but also telling us all the truth.

He knows there will be people who draw the two together. I genuinely think he quietly just confirmed what we Elta antis already know - his marriage is PR at this point.

JDM even said that we were “all sleuths” and could “read between the lines” about another subject matter - but I felt that was a shout out to the fact that there are a lot of theories that people get right.

(Sorry it’s so long)

Interesting, Anon. He tells a lot of stories but when you look at the emotion that is lacking behind them, his body language and the subtle digs as well as the desperation to shift public perception that tells us everything we need to know. If Jensen is so happy and living the love pf his life why does he constantly feel the need to prove that and in the process gets so passive aggressive that even Elta haters are starting to sympathize with her? Something is deeply off here. It's fascinating how on one side he wants to sell an image he has no chemistry for and simultaneously he is revealing how miserable and unhappy is. Almost like he wants to have the image of a married man to show he is a "winner"( his AAs overuse this word as if Charlie Sheen trained them lol) and, at the same time, he doesn't love his wife so he also wants to signal the he is available even if tied down. He wants the perks of the image and the freedom of still living life his way which makes me suspect there is someone else he is into but cannot have/reach and he doesn't want to risk alienating that person completely so he tries to make it clear that he is "married" but not satisfied. Which again points to him being spineless. Sorry, I am on a bad roll today facing a pretty harsh truth. If he loves someone else he should chase that love not try to have his cake and eat it too. No high value woman is going to stick around for a man that is this manipulative and spineless. Though, I have to say, I'm more and more curious as to who Jensen is actually pining for. Does anyone have any theories/info?

[liliesandparchment]

[This little baby is now called To Suspend Time and the full version is posted on AO3 here. It is a short 4.9k words which is one of my SHORTEST EVER and I am extremely proud of the fact as I am incapable of writing short ANYTHING. Please show some love! And I'm sorry for the delay but a huge huge thanks to everyone who supported the little parts here on Tumblr, you have my deepest affection forever and ever. ❤️]

Bridgerton AU 02x08 onwards: Part 5

~Edwina~

The strangest, most startled and uncomfortable silence followed the Viscount’s words. She had stared at him throughout his rather passionate discourse but tried to pull her gaze away for propriety’s sake; he had shrugged off his brother and stalked to the other end of the room, jaw stiff and his back ramrod straight. Distance did not exactly serve to hide his struggle to find air, however, and she was now insightful enough to understand that the semblance of calm he seemed desperate for was something only Kate could ever bring him.

Lady Danbury looked properly exasperated by the circumstances, which Edwina could understand but honestly could not truly sympathize with. She was still struggling to process the fact that the Viscount, who had been ready to marry her, now wished to marry Kate; for whatever false reasons him and his brother would have them believe, they all very obviously knew the truth.

She also realized suddenly that while she was now, thankfully, aware of the feelings that had been brewing, she had extremely foolishly misjudged the true depth of how badly bungled, for the lack of a better word, things had to be from both their ends for the situation to reach the level of skewedness that it had. Naturally, she had spent more time dissecting her sister’s actions and feelings and words and only now, as she watched her once to-be husband’s flexed jaw and shaking shoulders, did she consider the other side of the coin.

 Because that was simply what they were. Two sides of the same coin that was traded too frequently and loosely, only for people to really forget its true value. It was clear to her now more than ever as the rush of memories almost threated to blind her with the stark clarity with which they presented the rather obvious clues she had missed for a good few months.

And she had to simply think of things before the disastrous dinner because she was now sure that once she had moronically declared her love for the Viscount, Kate would have begged him to go forward with the original engagement, despite being completely aware of both of their true feelings by then.

And he had agreed, the stupid stupid love struck man. He had agreed and resigned himself to think of her beautiful Kate as the thorn removed from the blossoming flower of our lives. It was that, more than anything else, that cemented for her how similarly idiotically both the individuals in question operated when faced with fulfilling the wishes of those that they loved the most. It was revolting and terrifying and beautiful at the same time. She simply could not make up her mind.

The first time itself that she had seen the Viscount, in fact, now that she recalled, had been because Kate had tactlessly announced at their first ever ball – I know that gentleman.

Of course, neither of them had acknowledged each other’s presence outside the formalities when they had been introduced but now that she thought about it, she remembered the double take from the Viscount before his eyes had widened, stuck to her beautiful sister’s tall frame and then lowered resolutely and permanently as they had greeted each other.

She recalled Kate’s words the next morning when she had finally provided her list to the three of them with rapidly increasing comprehension – Lord Bridgerton is quite adept at conveying false first impressions. The actual circumstances of their first meeting really provided much needed perspective and context for a lot of things, indeed.

The tiff at the races was unexpected but not exactly a surprise to her – Kate had always been steadfast, stubborn and hard to impress. And it had only reached new levels when she had been pitted against the Viscount but she couldn’t decide if it had been because she had felt personally slighted by his actions and words or simply because they were both so similar that they each couldn’t help but push back at the other. After all, that was definitely what the Viscount had done with the appalling gift-giving and the dramatic display at the soiree, had it not?

And after that, well, it had simply been the final turn down the doomed road, hadn’t it? Just as Lady Danbury had put it. She now suspected that something untoward must have happened during the hunt, as Kate had finally decided to grudgingly acknowledge the decency of the man in whatever vague terms as had been possible for her at the moment, after that particular event.

They had, of course, both been rather transparent about their true feelings on the matter. At least, now that she was shifting her focus to the Viscount, she could find the instances piling up in an unhelpful sort of proof of her own delinquency. It included, but was definitely not limited to his odd focus on arguing with Kate at the races, his shock and distress – and not displeasure as she had originally assumed – during the end of his dance with Kate when he had presumably found out about her future plans, the flash of guilt on both their faces when they had returned to see them with Mr. Brookes, standing a touch too close with the ring stuck on her finger and their eventual panicked glances at each other while it was being tugged off, his observation about Dorset – that whole conversation really – and the stubborn insistence to help her off that had resulted in the unfortunate tumble.

And then, of course, she remembered Kate and her lingering stare, of course she had been a right bloody fool, hadn’t she? It had always been there –

She was snapped out her stupor by the arrival of the footman who proceeded to announce that the Doctor was finished and suddenly, all the air from the room had evaporated and Edwina could only clutch at her mother’s hand as they both shot up from their seats.

Unwillingly and finally, by complete co-incidence, she met the Viscount’s eyes again as they all edged forward to wait for the man and all her previous musings fled her as she met his eyes and simply saw her own painful anticipation reflected back at her. It did not matter what had happened and how it had come to this moment. The only thing that mattered was that there was someone who clearly loved Kate as much as she did, perhaps if not more and she would be damned if she let anyone stand in the way of her sister’s happiness, be it herself, Lady Danbury or the whole damn London ton.

Fin.

To Suspend Time - Find full version on AO3 here. Thank you for reading!💝✨

[spacerangersam]

Hey! I saw not long ago that you said you don’t mind talking about your creative writing degree.

After my gap year(s) I think I might be interested in maybe doing creative writing at uni (possibly alongside english lit) but I’m not completely sure yet.

I was wondering if you’d be alright sharing your experience with your degree? Like, did you enjoy it, find it interesting, useful or otherwise worthwhile etc.? And, would you recommend doing a creative writing degree?

If you end up responding to this (do feel free to ignore this btw) thank you so much! Also, I’ve really enjoyed what I’ve read of yours (admittedly I ought to check out more of your work).

I absolutely wouldn’t mind! And thank you!

Also, sorry in advance how long this is but I wanted to be fairly thorough. 

So, I definitely found it helpful. There’s just a clear difference in quality between my writing before taking the course and after, it is just significantly better, it’s clearer, it’s more concise and it’s just- it’s just better, it truly is, and I'm so much happier with it.

I have a much better understanding of the writing process now, of writing characters and arcs, of sentence length and when it vary it, and of how everything should be formatted (Times New Romance, size 12, double-spaced). My prose has significantly improved (though it’s still something I need to work on tbh), and I have a far better grasp on writing in close 3rd person- all things that I might not have learned, or might have taken significantly longer to learn if I haven’t taken the course. 

It also gave me a lot more confidence with my writing as, from my experience at least, a lot of the course involved group feedback sessions, and getting to see people like, laugh aloud at jokes I’d written and getting to hear their feedback and what they liked and what they thought of the characters just made me feel much more sure of myself as a writer. 

And even when there’s criticism, it’s (usually) very helpful and only serves to make your work better.

I enjoyed being encouraged to dabble in different genres too, in different writing styles, for different age ranges etc. I took a writing for young people module and legitimately, it turned out to be one of my favourite modules ever (helped by the fact that our tutor was just amazing, I loved him, he was fantastic), and I absolutely want to finish the story I started writing for that course and hopefully get it published someday. Even for modules where I wasn’t as taken with the writing style, like the short story module, was still fun and good writing practice.

It can also just be nice to be around other writers, getting to read and enjoy their work and just bond with people who love what you love. 

I have absolutely no regrets taking the course, I absolutely believe it improved my writing and I would thoroughly recommend it for aspiring writers. 

However, there were definitely some downsides. For one, it felt like (for modules focused on novel-length stories) there was a very strong focus on the beginning, but not much guidance on how to handle the middle and end of stories. We did definitely go over it, but it didn’t feel like it was in great depth and to this day, I still flounder when it comes to handling those parts of my stories. That might be different depending on what school/modules you take, but that was definitely something I felt was a bit lacking. 

It also didn’t feel like we really went into detail about how you even get your books published. That whole process is still a bit hazy in my mind (granted, it has been like 3 years since I graduated).

There’s also just the problem that how good and helpful your course can depend a lot on your teachers/classmates. I took three different scriptwriting modules over my 3 years, and two were taught by horrendous teachers. With the first, I think he did such a bad job that when it came to our assessment, I had to independently look at how to format a script because he didn’t even cover that. And if you’re stuck in feedback groups with people who aren’t very good at giving feedback, it can also suck.

(This isn’t relevant, I just want a chance to complain but once I was put in a group with a lady who was just like, very conservative and a very bad writer to boot, and would just not listen to any criticism whatsoever. It was a nightmare, you absolutely don’t wanna be that guy who can’t take a negative comment, no one will like you. Also, don’t be a Tory. That too. She once came up to my friend group outside of class and started talking to this one guy who was trans and I just got up and did not come back until she left asdfg. It was for the best.)

You could also, and this is a big maybe, come out of the whole experience kind of hating writing. For instance, the poetry classes that I chose/had to take legitimately made me hate poetry. It’s hard to explain why exactly, I think just looking into the technicalities of it just ruined my enjoyment of it. To this day, three years later, I still struggle to enjoy writing poetry, which is a shame because poetry is where this all started, where I realised that hey, maybe i’m not bad at this whole writing thing.  

 That’s not something I experienced with any other modules though, it was just poetry. 

Also, reading lists can be a bit of a pain if you don’t like the books assigned (and a bit expensive, especially if your uni discourages you from buying cheap on Amazon/eBay as mine did. I understand where they were coming from but like, asking students to drop like £10 + on multiple books is a bit much), and writing essays/reflections can be a bit of a drag (I’m not a fan of it, especially since we weren’t allowed to critique the books we were assigned to read? For some reason? We were only allowed to write about the positives, which annoyed me, I like complaining) but I mean, if you’re considering a joint course with English lit that’s something you’re used to.

I also still don’t fucking understand how to use a semi-colon. I mean, I do but I don’t, you get me?

I realise this seems a bit uneven, but it’s just because it is bit hard to fully explain just how helpful it was, considering it was a) about three years ago now, and b) a lot of what I learned was nitpicky stuff that is absolutely crucial for good writing, but is just kind of a bore to go over.

As I said, I don’t regret it one bit, it's probably the smartest and best decision I ever made, but sometimes it did just suck. But if you do it, you do get to brag about having a degree, so that's another plus.

I hope this was helpful!