#and treat it like that explains and fixes everything.

[hrizantemy]

Feyre’s voice shook the walls of the House of Wind as she let her rage spill free.

“It was supposed to be us! Nesta, Elain, and me!” she shouted, her chest heaving, her hands fisted at her sides as she glared at them all—her Inner Circle. The people she trusted, the people she loved. But right now, she felt nothing but fury toward them. “Do you understand what you just did? Do you even see it? You tore into her. You all stood there, watching, saying nothing as Amren ripped her apart. And then Taryn—” Feyre let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking her head. “A stranger defended my sister when none of us did. When I didn’t. Do you have any idea how wrong that is? How disgusting that is?”

Her voice cracked on the last words, but she didn’t stop, didn’t care.

Rhysand exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair, his jaw tight as he finally spoke, his voice the controlled, reasonable tone he always used when trying to calm her.

“Feyre—”

“Don’t,” she snapped, cutting him off, her rage turning toward him. “Don’t stand there and try to explain this to me, Rhys. Don’t act like you had no part in it. You stood there and let it happen. You let Amren shame her, humiliate her, like she was nothing more than a stain on this court. Like she hadn’t fought, like she hadn’t bled for all of us!”

Rhysand’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t let his composure slip. “She needed to hear it,” he said, calm, as if he truly believed it. “Nesta has spent the last year destroying herself, and we have done everything to try and help her. She refused it. We had no choice—”

“No choice?” Feyre’s voice rose again, incredulous. “You always have a choice, Rhys. Always. And what you chose was cruelty. What you chose was to let Amren belittle her, let everyone sit in their silence while Taryn—TARYN—was the only one to stand up for her.”

She turned her furious gaze to Amren, who had remained quiet, her face unreadable. “And you—what the hell was that? You didn’t try to help. You didn’t try to fix anything. You just wanted to break her down, just like you did before. Just like you always do when someone isn’t what you want them to be.”

Amren’s silver eyes narrowed. “I told her the truth.”

“No, you shamed her,” Feyre snapped. “You humiliated her. And the worst part is that you all let it happen. You all let her drown in it. Again.”

She turned to Cassian now, who hadn’t spoken once, his wings tucked tight, his expression unreadable.

“And you,” she breathed, the betrayal sharp in her voice. “You just stood there. You, out of everyone, should have said something. Should have done something.”

Cassian’s throat bobbed, but he said nothing.

Feyre let out a shaky breath, looking at all of them, her closest friends, her family. And for the first time in a long, long time, she didn’t recognize them.

“Look what you did,” she whispered. “Look what you all did.”

Morrigan shifted where she stood, arms crossed over her chest, her golden eyes flicking between them before finally landing on Feyre. Her voice was measured, careful, but there was a sharpness to it that Feyre immediately bristled at.

“Taryn doesn’t know what Nesta did to you,” Morrigan said, her tone low but firm. “She doesn’t know how Nesta treated you, how she—”

“Don’t,” Feyre snapped, cutting her off so abruptly that Morrigan blinked in surprise. “Don’t you dare bring that up right now.”

The heat of her anger reignited, searing through her veins as she turned on Morrigan fully. “Nesta was cruel to me. I know that. I lived it. I am not pretending otherwise. But you—all of you—are pretending that your behavior tonight was justified. That shaming her, belittling her, proving to her once again that she has no place here was somehow the right thing to do.”

She shook her head, letting out a breathless, bitter laugh. “And the fact that Taryn doesn’t know what happened between me and Nesta? Maybe that’s a good thing. Because for once, someone looked at Nesta and didn’t see her as the villain you’ve all made her out to be. Someone saw her, not just her mistakes.”

Morrigan’s expression tightened, as if she wanted to argue, but Feyre wasn’t done.

“Nesta tried to hurt me. She lashed out at me in ways I’ll never forget, and I won’t excuse that.” Feyre’s voice was shaking now, but she refused to back down. “But I am standing here, Morrigan. I survived it. I moved on. And if I can do that, why the hell can’t any of you?”

Amren exhaled sharply, her silver eyes narrowing as she finally stepped forward, her expression unreadable.

“Then why don’t you stop them?”

Feyre’s brows furrowed, confusion flickering across her face. “What?”

Amren tilted her head slightly, watching her with a gaze so sharp it felt like it cut right through her. “You act like you’re separate from this, like you weren’t part of it. But you were. Every time someone said something about Nesta, every time we tore into her, you were the one who told us what she was like before we even met her. You were the one who made sure we knew every cruel thing she ever said to you. And each time we said something about her, what did you do?”

Amren let the silence settle, let the weight of her words sink in before delivering the final blow.

“Nothing.”

Feyre’s lips parted, but Amren kept going, her voice steady, unrelenting.

“If you did say something, it was half-hearted at best. You never truly defended her, not really. And don’t pretend you did. Because if you had, we wouldn’t have spoken about her the way we did tonight. We wouldn’t have seen her as nothing more than a disgrace to this court. We wouldn’t have thought of her as someone who deserved to be punished.”

A long, heavy pause.

“And isn’t that what you wanted, Feyre?” Amren asked, her voice softer now, but no less damning. “For her to be punished? To feel what you felt? To pay for what she did to you?”

Feyre’s throat was dry.

She wanted to argue. She wanted to deny it, to fight back, as proof that she wasn’t wrong. But the words wouldn’t come.

Because for the first time, Feyre didn’t know what to say.

She had no words.

Rhysand’s power darkened the room, his rage curling around them like a storm ready to break. His growl was low, dangerous, a warning that echoed through the tense silence.

“You will not speak to your High Lady like that,” he snarled, his voice laced with authority, violet eyes burning as he fixed Amren with a look that would have made most people tremble.

But Amren was not most people.

She merely scoffed, rolling her eyes as if he were nothing more than an impatient child. “Oh, spare me the dramatics, Rhysand,” she said, utterly unimpressed by his display of power. “You think your title scares me? That I should bow and scrape because she wears a crown? I was drinking the blood of worlds before you were even born—I don’t give a damn what you call yourself.”

Rhysand’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides, but Amren only continued, voice dry with amusement. “You don’t like the truth, fine. But don’t act like I said anything you don’t already know.”

She turned back to Feyre then, silver eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “You’ve spent all this time pretending you wanted to help her. But deep down? You wanted to see her suffer. You wanted her to feel as alone as she made you feel. And you let us do the dirty work for you.”

Feyre flinched.

Rhysand stepped closer, his power crackling in the air, but Amren didn’t so much as blink. “You can growl all you want, High Lord,” she said, voice laced with sharp amusement. “But we both know I’m right.”

The room was still tense, thick with everything that had been said, everything that still wasn’t being said. And then, a small voice broke through the silence.

“It was my fault.”

Elain’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, but in the heavy stillness of the room, it was deafening.

Everyone turned to her. She stood near the doorway, her arms wrapped around herself, looking smaller than ever. She swallowed, her brown eyes flickering to Feyre before dropping to the floor.

“I was the one who told Nesta about the plan,” she admitted, her voice barely steady. “I— I didn’t mean to, I just—” She took a shaky breath. “I was angry. And I told her. And now—”

She trailed off, shaking her head, as if trying to process everything all over again.

Feyre’s throat tightened. “Elain—no,” she said immediately, shaking her head, stepping forward. “It’s not your fault.”

Something in Elain’s shoulders loosened, and she let out a small breath, as if she had been waiting for Feyre to say those exact words.

But before the moment could settle, Amren let out a sharp, unamused snort.

“Of course it’s your fault,” Amren said flatly, silver eyes gleaming as she crossed her arms. “You couldn’t keep your mouth shut, and now here we are.”

Elain’s face flushed, her fingers curling into the fabric of her dress, but she didn’t argue.

Feyre turned sharply toward Amren, her anger reigniting. “Enough,” she snapped.

But Amren only raised a brow. “Why? Because you don’t want to admit that she did exactly what you didn’t want her to do? That she let Nesta in on the little secret you all kept from her?”

Feyre clenched her jaw, but Amren just let out another scoff.

“None of us are innocent here,” Amren said coolly, looking around at them all. “Not you, not me, not Elain. Not a single damn one of us.”

Cassian finally stepped forward, his broad frame tense, wings tucked tightly against his back. His hazel eyes burned with frustration, but there was something else there too—something pleading.

“It was to help her,” he said, his voice firm, yet softer than it had been all night. “She’ll understand that, Feyre. Eventually, she’ll see that we did what we had to do.”

Feyre turned to him, something like disbelief flashing across her face.

“No, she won’t,” Feyre said, shaking her head. “She won’t understand, Cassian.”

Cassian’s jaw clenched, but Feyre didn’t stop.

“Nesta doesn’t see it that way. She never has. She won’t look at what we did and think, ‘Oh, they were just trying to help me.’ She’ll see it as exactly what it was—a punishment. A choice that was made for her, not with her. A way to control her, to make her into something we were all more comfortable with.”

Her voice wavered slightly, but she pushed on. “And after tonight, after what you all just did, do you really think she’ll ever look back on this and believe it was done out of love?”

Cassian’s hands curled into fists, but he had no response. Because he knew—deep down, he knew—that Feyre was right.

Morrigan exhaled sharply, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against the wall. Her golden eyes flicked to Feyre, then to Cassian, and finally, she let out a scoff.

“Good riddance, then.”

The words were casual, dismissive, but they sliced through the already-tense room like a blade.

Feyre’s head snapped toward her, disbelief flashing across her face. “What?”

Morrigan shrugged, her expression impassive. “She’s made her choice. She never wanted to be here anyway. She’s spent the last year making it clear that she wants nothing to do with us, with this court, with you. So fine. Let her go.”

Cassian stiffened, his wings flaring slightly, but he said nothing. Amren merely arched a brow, as if she weren’t surprised by Morrigan’s response.

“You all act like we forced her into misery,” Morrigan continued, her tone sharpening. “Like we held her down and made her suffer. But Nesta was already suffering. We tried. Over and over again, we tried. And she spat in our faces every single time. So if she wants to run off with that girl—if she wants to leave this court—good. She’s not our problem anymore.”

Feyre stared at her, her breath coming short. “How can you say that?”

Morrigan raised a brow. “Because it’s the truth. And I’m sick of pretending otherwise.”

Her words left a chilling silence in their wake, one that settled into the cracks already forming between them. And this time, no one rushed to fill it.

Morrigan shrugged, entirely unbothered by the weight of the silence pressing down on the room. Her golden eyes flicked between them all before she let out a dry laugh.

“Am I wrong?” she asked, her voice deceptively light. “She healed herself, didn’t she? She got better without us. She obviously wants nothing to do with Cassian—I mean, she’s already found herself a new lover, someone who’s more than just a warm bed to her.”

Cassian flinched, just barely, but it was enough.

Morrigan turned toward him now, her sharp gaze locking onto him. “And yet here we are, still talking about her like she’s our responsibility. Like she’s still our problem. But she made her choice, Cassian. She’s done with you. And you’re just sitting here, waiting for what? For her to change her mind?”

Cassian’s jaw clenched, but Morrigan wasn’t finished.

“She’s rotten, Cassian,” Morrigan went on, her voice turning sharper, crueler. “What she’s doing to you—leading you on, using you when it’s convenient, discarding you when she’s had enough—it’s disgusting. And you’re just letting her.”

Cassian finally moved, his wings flaring slightly as he turned to glare at her. “That’s enough, Mor.”

“Is it?” she challenged, tilting her head. “Because I think someone needed to say it. Nesta Archeron takes and takes, and when she’s done, she walks away like none of it ever mattered. And she just did it again.”

Feyre’s breathing was ragged now, her hands shaking at her sides, but Morrigan didn’t seem to care.

“So why are we still standing here pretending like she deserves our sympathy?” Morrigan finished, her voice ringing through the room, leaving behind a silence that felt far too final.

Feyre’s hands were shaking now, her breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts. The fury, the disbelief, the exhaustion of it all was pressing down on her, suffocating her.

“I invited her,” she said, her voice cracking slightly before she forced herself to steady it. “I was trying to mend my relationship with her. I wanted her here, I wanted to talk to her—to try to fix this.”

She turned sharply on Rhysand now, her rage burning anew.

“And you—” she practically seethed, ��you didn’t even tell me they were going to be here.”

Rhysand’s violet eyes darkened, but he didn’t flinch. “It was a precaution,” he said smoothly, as if he hadn’t just shattered what little control Feyre had left. “Nesta isn’t stable—”

“Do you really think Nesta would hurt me?” Feyre cut him off, her voice rising, her face twisting with something raw, something wounded.

Rhysand exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening. “I think Nesta is unpredictable. I think her temper is volatile, and I won’t take any chances when it comes to you—”

“She’s my sister,” Feyre snapped, “not some rabid animal you need to monitor!”

Rhysand didn’t say anything, just looked at her, and the answer was written all over his face.

And it broke something in her.

“You don’t trust her,” Feyre whispered, the weight of it settling in her chest. “You don’t trust her, and you never have.”

Rhysand’s silence was all the confirmation she needed.

Feyre’s breath came fast, her heart pounding in her chest as she stared at Rhysand, at all of them. At the people who claimed they tried with Nesta, who claimed they wanted her to be better, to be part of this family.

But then she thought about it—really thought about it.

Nesta had a life now. A real life. She had a job, a home, a purpose. She was stable enough that she had even paid them back every copper mark of the money she had taken, had forced it into Feyre’s hands despite her protests. She came to Solstice when asked, she showed up when she didn’t have to.

And yet, it still wasn’t enough for them.

“She’s happy,” Feyre breathed, realization slamming into her like a punch to the ribs. “She has a life, a job, she even paid us back for the drinking. She comes to Solstice when I ask her to. What more do you want from her?”

No one answered.

Feyre let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head. “She’s not perfect, but she’s trying. She’s open, she’s—” Her voice wavered, and she had to swallow hard before continuing. “She brought someone she loved around us, and what did we do?”

She looked at all of them, at the silence, at the shame flickering over Cassian’s face, at Morrigan’s crossed arms, at Amren’s cool, unwavering stare, at Rhysand’s carefully measured expression.

“We ruined it,” Feyre said, her voice breaking now. “We ruined everything.”

Even Elain, who had remained quiet for most of the conversation, began to fiddle with her dress, her fingers twisting in the fabric, her lips pressed together like she wanted to say something but didn’t know how. She kept her eyes down, refusing to meet Feyre’s gaze.

Feyre exhaled sharply, her hands shaking at her sides, but she didn’t let herself stop. She couldn’t stop.

“I wanted her to be part of this family,” she said, her voice raw with the weight of it all. “I wanted my sister here. And that’s what she is—Nesta is my sister.”

She turned to look at them, at each of them, her anger barely contained, but underneath it was something deeper, something far more painful.

“The same sister who fought in the war,” Feyre continued, her voice growing stronger, “the same sister who stood before the High Lords and spoke for me when no one else did. The same sister who threw her body over Cassian’s when he was about to die. The same sister who helped kill the King of Hybern when none of you could.”

Silence.

A thick, choking silence.

Even Amren’s expression faltered slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing through her silver eyes. Morrigan had stopped leaning against the wall, now standing rigid, as if Feyre’s words had knocked something loose inside her.

Amren examined her nails, utterly unbothered by the heavy silence that had settled over the room. She let it stretch, let them sit in it, before she finally spoke, her tone almost bored.

“Speaking of things Nesta did,” she mused, “there’s something else.”

Feyre stiffened, her heart lurching.

Rhysand’s head snapped toward Amren, his voice tight, controlled. “Amren.”

Amren flicked her silver eyes up to him, unimpressed. “What, boy? You were going to say it eventually.”

Feyre’s stomach twisted. “Say what?”

Amren sighed, as if this were all terribly tedious for her, before she finally looked at Feyre directly.

“We need Nesta to scry.”

The words hit Feyre like a slap.

She glanced at Rhysand, at Cassian, at the way neither of them were looking at her, and something cold curled in her stomach.

“You need her to what?” Feyre asked, her voice dangerously quiet. Amren just raised a brow. “You heard me.”

Rhysand let out a long, tired sigh, rubbing his temple as if this conversation had drained him. He glanced at Amren once more, then finally turned to Feyre, his expression carefully measured.

“Amren has been doing some research,” he admitted, his voice low, careful. “She found something about the Dread Trove… something we can’t ignore.”

Feyre crossed her arms. “And what exactly did she find?”

Rhysand inhaled sharply before answering. “Their original maker was the Cauldron. Some of them were created hundreds—thousands—of years ago and were used by various Fae rulers to secure their rule.” His violet eyes darkened slightly as he went on. “Only three of the ancient Trove have survived. The Crown, the Mask, and the Harp. The rest were either lost to time or misplaced.”

A chill ran down Feyre’s spine.

“And?” she pushed.

Rhysand hesitated. Just for a moment.

“And the only two people connected to the Cauldron,” Amren said, finishing for him, her silver eyes gleaming, “are Nesta and Elain.”

Feyre’s stomach turned to ice.

Her gaze flicked to Elain, who had paled considerably, her hands tightening on the fabric of her dress.

“You need her to scry,” Feyre whispered, the words tasting like ash on her tongue.

Rhysand exhaled slowly. “Yes.”

Feyre’s hands curled into fists at her sides, her jaw tightening as she tried to steady her breathing. The weight of what they were saying, of what they were asking, settled heavily over her like a storm ready to break.

“Why?” she demanded, her voice sharp, barely holding back the rage simmering beneath her skin. “Why do you need Nesta to do this?”

Amren let out a sharp sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose before leveling Feyre with an unimpressed look.

“Are you really this stupid?” Amren snapped, her patience wearing thin. “Because your sister—brilliant as always—managed to piss off the human queen Briallyn. And now that wretched girl is after the Trove. If she gets them before we do, we’ll have another war on our hands, one we may not win.”

Feyre’s stomach dropped.

“Briallyn,” she echoed, barely getting the name out.

Rhysand nodded grimly. “She’s been moving in the shadows for some time now. She’s not just after power, Feyre—she’s after revenge. Nesta insulted her, humiliated her, and Briallyn has not forgotten. If she gets her hands on the Trove…” He trailed off, but the implication was clear.

Elain was deathly pale now, her fingers digging into her dress so tightly her knuckles had gone white.

Feyre swallowed, trying to push past the rush of anger, the exhaustion clawing at her.

“So now you want Nesta to fix it,” Feyre said bitterly, shaking her head. “After everything, after tonight, you still expect her to do this for you?”

Amren didn’t even blink.

“She doesn’t have a choice,” Amren said simply. “None of us do.”

Feyre shook her head, her throat tightening as she struggled to contain the sheer exhaustion clawing at her.

“I’m not forcing her,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Then, louder, more resolute, “I won’t force her.”

She looked at them all—Rhysand, Amren, Cassian, Morrigan—and then finally turned to Elain, whose face was pale, stricken.

“You know what happened last time Nesta scryed,” Feyre said, her voice shaking slightly. “You know what it did to her.”

Elain swallowed hard, but she didn’t look away.

Amren, however, only sighed as if Feyre were the most naive creature in the world. “So? Then we use Elain.”

Elain tensed.

Amren tilted her head, her silver eyes glinting. “We all know Nesta would never allow that. She’d take her place. Willingly.”

Feyre blanched, the blood draining from her face.

“We are not manipulating Nesta,” she snapped, her voice shaking.

Amren just arched a brow. “Aren’t we?”

The words felt like a slap.

Rhysand exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple, but he didn’t deny it. And Feyre—Feyre hated the truth in Amren’s words, hated that they all knew Nesta would never let Elain be the one to suffer. That even after everything, even after all that had been said tonight, Nesta would still choose to protect them.

And now, they were going to use that against her.

Feyre’s fists clenched, her nails biting into her palms. “I’ll ask her,” she said, her voice unwavering. “But if she doesn’t want to do it, then that’s the end of it.”

Amren let out a sharp, amused laugh, shaking her head. “Gods, you really are naive, aren’t you?”

Feyre snapped her head toward her, but before she could say anything, she caught movement from the corner of her eye.

Rhysand.

He wasn’t looking at her. Not directly. His expression was unreadable, his arms crossed, his power curling subtly around him—not in anger, not in disagreement, but in something… calculating.

Feyre’s stomach twisted.

“Rhys,” she said slowly, her voice quieter now, more fragile.

He finally met her eyes, and in that single moment, Feyre knew.

He didn’t oppose it.

He wasn’t against what Amren had just said.

“You would risk war,” Amren mused, her silver eyes gleaming, “just so Nesta gets a precious choice?”

Feyre’s breath hitched.

Because the way Amren said it—the way Rhysand didn’t argue—made it clear. They didn’t intend to give Nesta a choice at all.

Feyre’s hands were shaking, but she lifted her chin, squared her shoulders. The room felt suffocating, filled with the weight of all the unspoken words, of the choices already made without her. Without Nesta.

“I am your High Lady,” she said, her voice ringing through the room, hard and unyielding. “And I am commanding you—Nesta will have a choice. If she says no, that is the end of it. Do you understand me?”

Amren just smiled, sharp and amused, but didn’t argue.

Morrigan’s expression was unreadable.

Elain still looked as if she wanted to sink into the floor.

Cassian had turned away, his jaw tight.

But it was Rhysand Feyre was waiting for.

Her mate, her partner, the one who had always promised her that she was his equal.

Rhysand’s violet eyes darkened, his power crackling faintly in the air. But he didn’t argue, didn’t fight her on it.

“Of course, Feyre darling,” he said smoothly. Too smoothly.

She didn’t trust it.

Didn’t trust any of them.

Feyre swallowed hard, the weight of everything pressing against her chest, constricting her breath. Even as she stood there, back straight, chin lifted, she wasn’t sure if any of them truly heard her—if they truly listened.

And worse than that, she didn’t even know if Nesta would speak to her.

After everything that had happened tonight—after the way they had ripped into her, humiliated her, torn her apart in front of the one person she had been brave enough to bring around them—would Nesta even listen? Would she even let Feyre get a single word out before walking away?

Feyre wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t.

Gods, she wouldn’t blame her.

The memory of Nesta’s face—stone-cold, her blue-gray eyes blazing, not with fury but with something far worse, something like disgust—burned in Feyre’s mind.

Would Nesta even care about what she had to say?

Would she even look at her after tonight?

Feyre let out a slow, shuddering breath, her pulse thrumming in her ears. She knew—gods, she knew—how horribly this had gone. How horribly every attempt had gone.

She had tried. Over and over, she had tried to reach out, to mend what had been broken between them. But every time, it had ended the same way.

Repetitive. Exhausting.

She would offer an olive branch, a quiet invitation, a moment of peace—and something would always happen. Some cutting remark from Nesta, some argument neither of them knew how to stop, some fresh wound torn open that made everything worse.

Or worse than that—the silence.

The unbearable, suffocating silence.

Nesta would shut her out, ice over completely, make Feyre feel like an intruder in her own sister’s presence. And Feyre had stopped knowing what to do with that—had stopped knowing how to fix something that had been shattered so long ago.

And now?

Now, after tonight?

Feyre could feel it in her bones.

This time, there might not be another attempt. This time, Nesta might not let her try again.

Feyre looked at them all, at these people who had stood by her side for so long, the people she had fought for, bled for, nearly died for. And yet, as she met each of their gazes, she felt utterly alone. Like she was speaking to herself, like none of them truly heard her. Like they had already decided what they were going to do, with or without her permission.

“I will ask Nesta,” she said firmly, her voice even, though she felt something inside of her breaking as she spoke. “I will write her a letter. Whether she chooses to respond or not is her choice.”

She could already see the reaction before it came. The barely masked irritation flashing across Amren’s face, the way Morrigan exhaled sharply through her nose, like Feyre was a child clinging to a fantasy. The way Rhysand’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling ever so slightly at his sides. And then, predictably, Amren scoffed, shaking her head in that way she always did when she thought Feyre was being unreasonable.

“We don’t have time for letters,” Amren said coolly, folding her arms as if the matter was already settled. “This isn’t a social call, girl. Briallyn is moving now. We can’t sit around and wait for Nesta to make up her mind.”

Feyre’s temper flared, sharp and sudden, and she snapped her gaze toward Amren, glared at her, at all of them.

“I don’t care how much time we have,” she said, her voice no longer calm, no longer controlled. “Whether she chooses to respond or not is her decision. Not ours. Not yours. Not mine. Hers.”

Amren only arched a brow, but before she could respond, Rhysand spoke, his voice measured, steady, but with an undeniable edge.

“This is war, Feyre,” Rhysand said, and something in his voice made the hair on her arms rise. “And war doesn’t wait for people to make choices. You know that better than anyone.”

Feyre’s throat tightened, but she didn’t budge.

“And yet, you will wait,” she said, lifting her chin, daring him to argue. “Because I am your High Lady, and I am telling you that this is how we will do it. We will ask her. We will give her the choice you have all so clearly tried to take from her. And if she refuses, that is the end of it.”

Rhysand held her gaze, the room silent around them, the weight of her words hanging between them like a blade.

He didn’t like it.

He didn’t agree.

But Feyre had drawn her line, and this time, she would not let them cross it.

Though now, she didn’t care if Rhysand agreed.

Tag list: @litnerdwrites @viajandopelomar @wolfinsocks

[lvrgurlblobbu]

day well spent

college!zayne x fem reader

⤿CW: pure fluff

⤿word count: 3.6k

⤿a/n: hello lovelies! this is supposed to be a valentines treat but i got busy with college stuffs so it was kinda delayed. enjoy reading :))

⤿fifth part of code love series | previous part. > next.

ao3.

It’s been four weeks since Zayne officially began courting you. The day after that, he insisted on meeting your sister to ask for her approval as well. Although you assured him that it wasn’t necessary and that your sister would have no objections, he remained firm in his decision. He explained that his parents raised him to seek the permission of those closest to the person he’s courting, and he wanted to honor that tradition.

You also asked him if his parents knew that he was courting you. He smiled and admitted that he always mentioned you whenever he spoke with them. He explained that both of his parents are doctors, and their work often takes them out of the city—or even out of the country—for medical missions. Despite their busy schedules, they always make time to catch up, and you’ve become a frequent topic of conversation.

“Really? You talk about me often?” You asked him, you’re currently sitting at the lounge area of his department’s building as you decided to visit him before you go home.

Zayne’s cheeks flushed slightly, but he didn’t look away. “Yeah, I do,” he admitted, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “I tell them how smart and funny you are… and how being around you makes my day better.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his sincerity.“What do they say about that?” you asked, trying to sound casual despite the warmth rising to your cheeks.

He chuckled, leaning back against the couch. “They’re curious about you now. They want to meet the person who keeps making their son smile like an idiot during phone calls.”

You laughed, the image of Zayne grinning goofily while talking to his parents popping into your head. “Well, I hope I make a good impression when that day comes.

Zayne’s expression softened even more. “You already have,” he said quietly. “Even without meeting you, they’re glad I found someone who makes me happy.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the unspoken feelings hanging in the air. But the comfortable silence was enough. You realized that Zayne wasn’t just courting you; he was already including you in his world, and that meant more than words could express.

You glanced at the time and sighed. “I should get going,” you said, standing up reluctantly.

He stood up with you, his gaze lingering a bit longer before he spoke. “Let me walk you to the bus stop.”

“But what about your next class?” You asked him as he slung your bag on his shoulder.

“It’ll be fine, and I want to make sure you’ll be safe.” He smiled, his eyes warm with reassurance. “Shall we?” He offered his hand, palm open and inviting.

You couldn’t help but smile back, a flutter of comfort settling in your chest. Without a word, you placed your hand above his, feeling the gentle strength in his grip. As you walked side by side, his hand naturally found its place on your lower back, guiding you with a subtle protectiveness that made you feel cherished.

The evening air was cool, a soft breeze rustling through the trees as the sky faded into shades of gold and pink. You could hear the distant hum of the city, but here, in this moment, everything felt quieter—almost like the world had slowed down just for the two of you.

His thumb drew small, absentminded circles against your back, a gesture so subtle yet so grounding. You glanced up at him, catching the way his lips curved into a gentle smile, his gaze fixed forward but clearly aware of every step you took together.

It was as if his presence built a safe haven around you, a place where nothing could reach you but the warmth radiating from his touch. You leaned a little closer, your shoulders brushing, and for a second, you wondered if he could hear the rhythm of your heartbeat matching the steady pace of your footsteps.

Neither of you spoke, but in the comfortable silence, so much was said.

***

A few weeks later, today is Valentine’s day which is also your University’s Foundation Week. Classes were canceled for two weeks to celebrate and there were booths and stalls all over your campus grounds.

You and Zayne agreed to meet at campus, just by the old oak tree near the main entrance. The area was bustling with students, laughter, and music blending into the festive air. As you approached, you spotted him leaning against the tree, his hands tucked in his pockets, a relaxed smile spreading across his face as his eyes found yours.

“Hey,” he called out, pushing off the tree to meet you halfway. “You look… really nice.” His gaze lingered, a subtle warmth coloring his cheeks.

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a shy smile creep onto your lips. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

He laughed, the sound easy and genuine. “Shall we?” You nodded at him as you intertwined your fingers with his as he led the way inside your campus, guiding you through the crowd. His grip on your hand tightened as you entered, making sure that you won’t get lost.

As you passed by booths filled with games, merch, and food stalls, you noticed how his eyes sparkled upon seeing variety of sweets in the stalls. Zayne glanced at you and his smile is evident and it made your heart flutter.

“I heard their churros are the best, do you want to try?” He asked.

“Of course!” You replied, he smiled at you once again before leading the way. Luckily, the line isn’t as long as you anticipated when you reached the food stall which sells churros and a few other sweets.

You stood beside Zayne, he ordered churros which is good for two persons, two pieces of potato tornados and a milkshake. It hasn’t been long when your orders were now served, you and Zayne decided to sit at the bench underneath a tree to eat your foods.

With a potato tornado in your hand and churros in his, your drinks sat on the bench beside you. Zayne held out a wooden fork, eyeing the cinnamon-sugar-coated churros carefully. Using his hand as a fan, he made sure they were cooled off before taking a piece.

Once he was certain it was safe to eat, he held the churro out to you, his eyes warm with a playful smile. “Here, try it. It’s better when shared.”

You smiled at him before eating the churro, your eyes went wide as you chewed on it. “It tastes amazing,” you said and he chuckled in response before he took a bite of the churros.

“Here, try this as well,” you said, offering him the potato tornado. You used your other hand as a shield to catch any stray cheese powder, making sure it wouldn’t fall directly on his clothes.

Zayne leaned in, taking a bite with a delighted grin, “Mhm, that’s really good.” He said before he took another bite which made you chuckle because there were a few remnants of cheese powder on his cheeks.

“You look silly,” you giggled as you reached for your handkerchief to wipe the powder off his face. He just shook his head as he grabbed another churro and as if you acted on instinct, you leaned in to take the bite from him.

As you were busy munching, you suddenly heard a click. Confused, you glanced over at Zayne, only to find him grinning mischievously, his phone held up in front of him.

“Did you just… take a picture of me?” you asked, your eyes narrowing playfully.

He shrugged, completely unapologetic. “You just looked too cute not to.” He turned the screen to show you the candid shot—your cheeks puffed out as you chewed, eyes wide with surprise.

Your face heated up instantly. “Zayne! Delete that!”

He laughed, tucking his phone away before you could snatch it. “Nope. This one’s a keeper.”

You crossed your arms, pretending to be annoyed. “You’re impossible.”

He leaned in, his voice low and teasing. “If it makes you feel better, it’s now my favorite photo.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the playful annoyance melting into a shy smile. “You’re such an idiot,” you mumbled, but your tone was light, your chest fluttering at the way he looked at you.

“Maybe,” he agreed, his eyes twinkling. “But at least I made you smile.”

And just like that, you realized he was right. You were smiling—unable to stop, even if you tried.

***

After a few giggles and pictures snapped together, you and Zayne strolled once more. What caught your attention was the photobooth tucked in the corner, its vintage design adorned with flashing lights that seemed to beckon you both closer.

Zayne noticed your gaze and grinned, his playful energy impossible to resist. “Zayne.” You called, but as you looked at him, his gaze was already fixed on you. With a smile, you tugged him toward the photobooth, its neon lights reflecting in his eyes.

He let himself be pulled, laughing as you both stumbled inside the tiny space. It was a tight fit, your shoulders pressed together, knees bumping as you tried to get comfortable. The screen lit up, giving you barely any time before the first countdown began.

For your first shot, you and Zayne’s faces were near to each other. You held out two of your fingers poking your cheek as you pouted at the camera. Zayne on the other hand poked leaned closer as he poked his finger on his right cheek.

As soon as the second countdown began, Zayne wrapped his left arm around your shoulder as he pulled you closer to him. Both of you make a peace sign with visible smiles on your faces.

“Okay, quick! What should our next pose be?” you giggled as the last countdown began. You tilted your head to face him, only to find him looking down at you with a wide smile that made his dimples pop. You couldn’t help but lean in closer, your noses gently touching. Lost in the moment, neither of you noticed when the camera clicked, capturing the third shot.

The photo strip printed two copies with a mechanical whir, sliding out as you both tumbled out of the booth, laughing and breathless. Zayne grabbed the strip, his eyes widening as he saw the progression—silly faces, pure laughter, and finally, that close, almost-kiss that left your heart pounding.

“Let me take a look.” You said as you unconsciously intertwined your fingers with his as he gave you the other copy. “Oh, I love how these turned out.”

As you were busy admiring the photo, Zayne’s gaze remained on you. There was a softness in his eyes, his smile lingering as he watched the way your face lit up. The way you laughed at the silly faces, how your fingers gently traced over the last photo—the one where you were so close, your faces barely an inch apart.

He swallowed, his heart thudding as he replayed that moment in his head. It had felt so natural, so right, even if he hadn’t expected it. He opened his mouth, the words forming before he could stop them. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

Your head snapped up, eyes wide in surprise. “What?”

His cheeks flushed, but he didn’t look away. “I mean… the way you’re smiling. It’s… nice.” He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly shy. “Makes the photos look even better.”

You noticed his flushed reaction— how his cheeks and ears turned red, the way he nervously ran his hand through his hair and how he couldn’t even dare to look straight into your eyes.

“Zayne… are you blushing?” you teased, leaning in to get a better look. His eyes widened, and his cheeks grew even redder as he quickly averted his gaze.

“N-No, I’m not!” he protested, his voice higher than usual. He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes. “It’s just… warm out here.”

You let out a small giggle, watching him squirm. “Right. Must be that blazing eighty-degree weather,” you teased, glancing up at the clear, breezy sky. You were about to tease him more, but then you heard two familiar voices calling out for the both of you.

As you turned your head, you saw Tara and Simone running towards your direction, their faces lit up with excitement. You smiled, waving as they skidded to a stop in front of you, slightly out of breath.

“There you two are!” Tara exclaimed, hands on her hips as she caught her breath. “We’ve been looking all over for you!”

Simone’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as she looked between you and Zayne, her gaze dropping to your intertwined fingers. A sly grin spread across her face. “Well, well, what did we miss?”

You felt your face heat up, and instinctively, you tried to pull your hand away, but Zayne held on firmly, his own cheeks tinged pink. “Nothing much,” he said, his tone casual despite the way his thumb was gently stroking the back of your hand. “Just taking some photos.”

Tara’s eyes widened, immediately zeroing in on the photo booth behind you. “Oh! Did you guys take one of those cute photo strips?”

You and Zayne both looked at each other before nodding gently. Tara groaned dramatically. “Oh, come on! Show us!”

Zayne smirked, patting his pocket. “Sorry, but these are classified. For our eyes only.”

Simone looked at you, her expression pleading. “You’re really not going to share?”

You shook your head, laughing. “Nope. But trust me, they turned out great.”

Tara crossed her arms, pretending to pout. “Fine. But you owe us details later.” She paused, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “And I expect all the details.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to act nonchalant even as your heart raced. “We’ll see about that.”

Simone linked her arm through yours, already steering you away. “Come on, then! We were just about to grab some snacks. You two lovebirds joining us or what?”

You glanced at Zayne, who still hadn’t let go of your hand. His smile was soft, his eyes warm as he gave your fingers a gentle squeeze. “Yeah,” he answered, his voice steady. “We’re coming.”

Together, the four of you walked off, laughter echoing as the teasing continued. And though the photo strip remained tucked away, the memory of that almost-kiss—and everything it meant—was impossible to hide.

***

As the sun had already set, the sky painted in shades of deep purple and navy, Zayne offered you a ride home. Of course, you didn’t refuse, the idea of spending a little more time with him too tempting to pass up.

The car ride was comfortable, the faint hum of the engine blending with the soft music playing from the radio. Streetlights cast a warm glow through the windows, illuminating his face in fleeting intervals. You couldn’t help but steal a glance now and then, admiring the way his jaw tightened as he focused on the road, his hands relaxed on the steering wheel.

“You know,” he began, breaking the silence, “today was… pretty great.” His voice was casual, but there was a tenderness there, a vulnerability you weren’t used to hearing from him.

You smiled, leaning back against the seat. “Yeah, it really was.“

The rest of the drive was filled with light conversation and laughter, the kind that felt easy and effortless. Before long, he was pulling up in front of your house, the porch light casting a warm glow across the yard.

Zayne put the car in park but didn’t make any move to leave. Instead, he turned to you, his expression softer now. “Hey… thanks for today. Really.”

You looked at him, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his voice. “No… thank you. I had an amazing time.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you charged with anticipation. Zayne’s eyes flicked down to your lips, his jaw tightening slightly as if he was debating something.

“Oh, before I forgot—“ He muttered as he unclasped his seatbelt to grab something from the backseat. To your surprise he’s already holding a beautifully arranged bouquet of flowers wrapped in white paper and tied with a light blue ribbon. The bouquet features a delicate mix of white and pale blue blooms, including roses and small, airy flowers resembling baby’s breath.

“Zayne-“ your breath hitched as he gave the bouquet to you.

“I inserted something in there.” He said, then you noticed a piece of paper tucked underneath the flowers. You placed the bouquet in your lap as you began to unfold the paper.

Your heart began to race as you saw a beautiful sketch of yourself. The lines were delicate, capturing every detail with surprising accuracy—the curve of your smile, the sparkle in your eyes, even the way your hair fell around your face. It was breathtaking, almost surreal, to see yourself through someone else’s eyes.

You looked up, your gaze locking with Zayne’s. He was watching you intently, his expression soft, almost vulnerable. “Do you… like it?” he asked, his voice hesitant, as if he was unsure of himself for once.

A lump formed in your throat, emotions swirling as you looked back at the sketch. “Zayne… this is incredible. I… I didn’t even know you could draw.”

He let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… it’s just a hobby. I don’t show my drawings to many people.” His eyes softened as he continued, “But… I wanted you to see this one.”

Your heart skipped a beat, warmth flooding your chest as you realized the effort and thought he’d put into this. “You drew this… for me?”

He looked away, his cheeks tinged pink. “Yeah. I… couldn’t get you out of my head, so… this happened.” He glanced back at you, his gaze intense. “I wanted to capture the way you looked that day at the park…when you were laughing.”

Your breath caught, the memory flashing in your mind—the two of you strolling at the park, your face lit up with laughter, Zayne watching you with that same look in his eyes. “You… remembered that?”

“Of course I did,” he said softly. “I remember everything about you.”

Emotion tightened your throat, and you blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. You reached out, your fingers brushing over the paper delicately, as if afraid you’d smudge the beautiful lines. “I love it. I really do.”

His shoulders relaxed, relief washing over his face. “I’m glad.”

You looked at him, your heart full. “Thank you, Zayne. This… this means more to me than you know.”

His eyes softened, his voice a gentle whisper. “You mean more to me than you know.”

Your breath hitched, your heart racing once more. But this time, it wasn’t because of the sketch—it was because of him. The both of you stared at each other for a few moments before you broke the silence.

“It’s already getting late, I’ll head inside so you can go home.” You said as you folded the paper and tucked it back underneath the flowers. “Thank you for today Zayne, for keeping me company during the University fair, and for these gifts. I had so much fun.”

“It is my pleasure and I could say that as well.” He smiled at you, “Thank you [Name].”

The both of you settled in a comfortable silence. You stared at his hazel-green eyes as you thought of something cheeky. So, you leaned your face closer and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “Be safe, goodnight.”

You giggled at his expression when he was suddenly caught off guard by your sudden kiss. You immediately gathered your things before opening the car door and ran inside your house, not even bothering to steal another glance at Zayne because you could already feel your cheeks heating up.

As soon as you got inside, you immediately got a text notification from Zayne.

Zayne: That was sneaky

You giggled as you hovered your fingers to type a reply.

You: You should’ve seen your reaction lol. Drive safe okay? Message me once you got home :))

Then, it hasn’t been a minute passed when you received another reply.

Zayne: Yes I will. Thank you again for today <3

Your heart fluttered once more as you saw his reply. You placed your phone back in your bag as you went upstairs to take a shower.

Once finished, you slipped into comfortable pajamas and made your way to your room. Without another thought, you plopped onto your bed, sinking into the softness as you hugged your pillow close. A giddy laugh escaped your lips, muffled by the fabric, as the memories of the day played like a movie behind your closed eyes.

You turned your head, your gaze falling on the bouquet resting on your nightstand, its delicate petals catching the soft glow of your bedside lamp. Beneath them, the folded sketch was safely tucked away, a beautiful reminder of the man who had given it to you.

Your phone buzzed once more, and you grabbed it eagerly, heart skipping as his name appeared on the screen.

Zayne: Just got home. Sweet dreams :)

You couldn’t help the warmth that spread through you, your fingers dancing over the screen as you typed back:

You: Sweet dreams, Zayne. Today was the best.

You set your phone aside, still clutching the pillow as a contented sigh left your lips. Today really was perfect—better than you ever could’ve imagined. You hadn’t just spent the day at the University fair; you’d made memories, and shared laughter.

As your eyes grew heavy and sleep began to claim you, one thought lingered, wrapping itself around you like a comforting embrace:

Being with him just felt right.

dividers by: @saradika-graphics

[enixamyram]

You know, the ending of the episode has made Amanda look even worse to me. At the start I just thought she was a judgmental bitch but now I realise she's a selfish bitch who let her personal life not just get in the way of her job - but push her to outright attacked a victim of sexual assault in the most disgusting way. Like, am I supposed to be more understanding now she admitted it's because her boyfriend was a dick that she literally threw money at a victim and claimed it was her own fault because what did she expect from that line of work???

And you know what, I really resent everyone else not putting her in her place throughout the episode. She was beyond nasty taking out her personal shit on a goddamn rape victim while everyone else just kind of sighed and looked unhappy but never actually call her out for it. It's so frustrating. I swear, earlier season Olivia would have tore Amanda apart if she saw her treating/talking to a rape victim like that.

[elytrafemme]

the vast majority of the reason why i’ve abstained from getting a professional diagnosis is practical-- i already have a therapist (she just doesn’t like to diagnose, it’s not part of her practice but within her qualifications). it would fuck up my insurance in the long-term and complicate other systemic processes. i don’t need medication nor do i need accommodations so having a diagnosis wouldn’t really help me. it opens the floor to traumatic experiences, will likely cost a lot of money, and would again be trapped on my record for years upon years. 

but jesus christ, i wish i had half the confidence that other people can have with self-diagnosis. because even if i have my therapist basically stating that she thinks bpd explains several of my symptoms, and having said that the best way to explain my experiences to other people is by using bpd as a reference, i still cannot wholly convince myself that this is the issue. and i have researched for years and years so it isn’t that, i just. i need someone to look me in the eyes and tell me but if i get that, i get the rest of this too.

[lxvvie]

Simon doesn't think he's ever tasted something so good in his fuckin' life before.

He didn't know what he was in for this time when he got back from deployment, and nicotine and whiskey ain't got shit on this. Poor bastard can't remember the last time he had something so good invade his senses like this.

You said you had a treat for him, made him lay down, and promptly sat on his face, and Simon was fuckin' gone. Don't know what the fuck possessed him but he took one whiff and was instantly hooked.

Simon feasted on your cunt like a man starved. Tongue, lips, fingers, you name it. Anything to get his fix, anything to make you moan.

Anything to make you cum.

Didn't let up for shit, not even to breathe, and when you voiced your concern while whimpering and trembling, Simon didn't give a fuck and still continued to love on your pretty cunt because where the bloody fuck are you going?

Shut up. Shut the hell up and let him make you cum, sweetheart.

Actions have consequences. Shouldn't have made him feel so bloody good, shouldn't have poked at the beast, and he'd be damned if he didn't think this was the best post-deployment gift he's ever gotten. Better than the nicotine high or occasional pity wank.

Fuck, it's been so long and he's absolutely disgusting about it.

And Simon's aware of it all, the way his cock is so hard it's bloody painful and leaking in his pants, the way you're grinding on his face, smothering it and fucking his mouth (don't you dare stop, either), and how his everything is consumed by you. You coat his stubble, fill his nostrils up with your scent, his tastebuds are fired up—bloody hell, need he explain more?

Simon could die a happy man right now, and what would his gravestone say? Here Lies Simon Riley, Died Eating Cunt.

He'd chuckle if he wasn't too busy at the moment. Shit, he probably did if the way you're moaning is any indication. That felt good, didn't it, sweetheart?

It's your turn now to say his name like a prayer and believe in him just as he believes in you.

And it's the best fucking thing to ever bless his ears.

--

Turning Simon Out: Part I and Part II.

[rowanjasper]

.

[rivilu]

............well... much to think about.......

[geneviveleocardius]

some husband material headcanons with simon riley

late-night garage dances are his quiet way of loving you. when the house is quiet and you’re both waiting for your daughter to get home from a party, he’ll pull you into a slow dance. he doesn’t say much, just rests his chin on your head as the two of you sway to soft music in the dim light.

if you’re too tired to shower, he’ll gently coax you into letting him wash your hair. his hands are rough but so careful, massaging your scalp in a way that makes your shoulders relax instantly.

when you’re at the beach, you trace your name on his back with sunscreen, leaving the rest bare. later, when the tan sets in and your name is etched on his skin, he looks at it in the mirror and smirks. he loves the quiet claim you have on him, even if he pretends to roll his eyes when you point it out.

simon takes his time applying sunscreen to you at the beach, even though he could be quick about it. he’s meticulous, rubbing it in gently over your shoulders and back, making sure you don’t miss a spot. “can’t have you burning, love,” he says softly. he always uses it as an excuse to trail his fingers along your skin, a subtle moment of affection.

he’s big on touch, even if he doesn’t always initiate it. his favorite moments are when you lay your head on his chest at night and trace the scars on his arms. he doesn’t always talk about them, but he likes the way you don’t shy away from them either.

he’s the kind of dad who stays up until he hears the door click after a late night out. he’ll mutter about the time under his breath, but he softens immediately when your daughter leans in to give him a quick hug before heading to bed.

if he hears you sigh in frustration while cooking or doing something around the house, he’ll quietly walk over, take whatever you’re holding, and finish the job without a word.

he doesn’t say it often, but he loves being domestic with you. folding laundry, fixing things around the house, or even grocery shopping together is calming for him.

simon keeps a picture of the two of you tucked in his wallet—a candid photo of you laughing. when he’s away, he takes it out to remind himself what’s waiting for him back home.

he’ll let you put ridiculous face masks on him during a lazy evening, even though he grumbles about it. “this better not make me smell like a bloody fruit salad,” he mutters, but he stays still for you.

he’s terrible at hiding his smile when he hears you laugh. even in the most mundane moments, your happiness is his favorite sound.

sometimes, he’ll sneak up behind you, wrap his arms around your waist, and sway you gently to a song only he can hear.

if your child ever talks back to you or says something disrespectful, simon doesn’t let it slide for a second. his voice is calm but firm as he says, “that’s your mum you’re speaking to. apologize—now.” he rarely raises his voice, but the weight behind his words is enough to make them realize they’ve crossed a line. later, he’ll sit down with them, explaining why respect is non-negotiable. “she does everything for us. you don’t ever treat her like that, understood?”

when you have surgery, simon steps into full caregiver mode, even though it’s not something he’s entirely used to. he carefully helps you into the bath, always making sure you’re comfortable and secure. his touch is gentle as he washes you, murmuring, “tell me if anything hurts.”

he dries your hair after the bath, combing it slowly so it doesn’t tangle. “you’re still as gorgeous as ever,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

he insists on carrying you to bed, even if you tell him you can walk. “don’t argue with me, love. you’re meant to rest.” he tucks you in, makes sure you have everything you need, and stays close by in case you need him during the night.

simon takes every opportunity to teach your child the importance of kindness, especially toward you. he models this by being gentle with you, always showing them how love and respect are expressed.

he’s a firm dad, but never unfair. when he has to scold your child, he always makes sure they understand why their behavior was wrong, but he’s quick to reassure them that he loves them no matter what.

during your recovery from surgery, simon takes over all the household duties. he’s not a great cook, but he’ll follow recipes to the letter to make sure you’re well-fed. when something doesn’t turn out quite right, he mutters, “bloody hell,” but doesn’t stop trying.

[taeyongdoyoung]

good for you

summary: your boyfriend is literally perfect and treats you like a princess but you want him to completely lose control 😇 pairing: mingyu x reader genre: smut, tooth-rotting fluff warnings: established relationship, home intruder roleplay, consensual somnophilia, safeword exists but isn't used, rough sex, no lube, no protection, neck biting, size kink (no one is surprised), titty slapping, sir kink, spanking, praise+degradation, slight dumbification, subspace, pet names, shy dom gyu, crying, mentions of pee (non-sexual context), aftercare!!! word count: 1.7k

You and Mingyu have not been together for long but from what you know so far he’s the sweetest guy you’ve ever dated. He treats you like a princess, brings you flowers or chocolates with or without occasion, drives you around everywhere, gets stuff from the top shelf for you and is basically the kindest soul to ever step on this Earth. You are, of course, beyond grateful for that, and do your best to show him how much you appreciate him every chance you get.

However, a little demon inside your brain kind of wants him to not treat you as if you are made of glass all the time. While the sex is great and Mingyu makes sure that you reach an orgasm, you can’t help but fantasize about him going rough on you. Even when his friends tease (bully) him, he almost never uses his height and strength to his advantage, instead accepting everything with a good-natured smile.

But you would be lying if you said that the idea of him just snapping doesn’t excite you. Nevertheless, you are not sure how to bring this up to him. You don’t want to sound ungrateful or for him to feel insecure about his abilities because he’s perfect the way he is. It’s your filthy brain that needs fixing. Still, you decide that honesty is the key to a healthy relationship and you gather all your courage to approach him about this.

“Hey, Mingyu, can we talk about something?” you ask one evening after you two have finished having dinner.

His eyes are immediately filled with worry. Judging by the tone of your voice, this is something serious. So far, your relationship has been lighthearted and devoid of any problems. Mingyu thinks that it’s going great but apparently he’s been fooling himself.

“What’s wrong?” he wants to know. “You’re not breaking up with me, right?”

“What?! Of course not! Do you want to break up with me?” you panic.

“No, no, please,” Mingyu shakes his head fervently.

“Good, good,” you exhale in relief.

“So, what did you wanna talk about?”

“Um, it’s kinda embarrassing but I don’t want to keep any secrets from you.”

“Secrets?” Mingyu blinks in curiosity.

“Yeah…You know how you’re always super gentle with me, both outside and inside the bedroom?”

“Uh, sure? What about it?”

“Can you consider…not doing that all the time?”

“In what sense?” Mingyu raises his eyebrows in confusion.

“In the sense that…can you fuck me harder without holding yourself back? You’re not gonna break me, I promise.”

“Oh…” he finally realizes what you’re getting at. Because he doesn’t say anything rightaway, you hurry to explain.

“Not that I don’t like how sweet and patient you are with me! It’s more than amazing, I just thought that…maybe it’d be fun to try something new. If it’s not your thing, forget I mentioned it, I’m so-“

“It’s not that it doesn’t sound appealing. But I’m afraid that if I’m not holding myself back, I’ll end up hurting you,” Mingyu confesses, surprising you.

You reach your hand out across the table to hold his comfortingly.

“You won’t. I know how caring you are, Mingyu. Which is why I would trust you with something like this. Okay?”

“Okay,” he nods. “Did you have a particular scenario in mind or do you want me to surprise you?”

“Surprise me.”

Mingyu smirks sinisterly. Oh God. What kind of demon have you unleashed?

🎀🎀🎀

A few days later, you receive a text from Mingyu while you’re walking home.

Mingyu: Busy tonight?

You: All yours

Mingyu: Unlock your door at exactly 10pm and wait for me in your bed. If I’m not there by 10:30, lock it again, alright?

You: Yes, sir 🛐

Mingyu: That’s my good girl.

Fucking hell. Your heart flutters upon reading these words. He’s called you that before but in this context, it thrills you even more than usual.

Mingyu: Safeword is butterfly. Use it if something is too much, if you’re in pain or for any other reason that brings you discomfort, okay?

You: I’m gonna need a safeword?!?!

Mingyu: I hope it doesn’t come to that but just in case. See you in a couple of hours, baby.

You’re too excited for tonight. You take a long shower. You wear your prettiest lingerie and make your room as cozy as possible. Not that it matters. You spray perfume over your neck and wrists. You put on some lipbalm and mascara. You want to look good for him. But the truth is, you had an exhausting week and already feel sleepy. You unlock the door at 10pm, climb into your bed and…

Somehow you fall asleep. You feel disoriented as your consciousness is slowly returning to you. You feel too hot, too weak and too full. Fuck. What’s going on? You don’t dare to open your eyes for fear of ruining the sweeter than sleep reality.

“Dumb baby couldn’t wait for me and fell asleep all by herself?” Mingyu’s deep voice coos in your ear.

In your half-awake state you feel your boyfriend’s cock thrusting deep inside of you, taking you rougher than ever before. Well, you asked for it.

“So cute and helpless, leaving the door unlocked for anyone to enter and use you like a whore,” Mingyu murmurs.

He rubs your clit vigorously while still fucking into you, making you wetter than ever before.

“Nnghh,” you whimper drowsily.

“Shhh, baby, go back to sleep,” Mingyu whispers. “I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to think about anything.”

He squeezes your boobs, leaning down to bite your neck like a hungry wolf. And here, you thought your boyfriend was just a cute puppy.

“S-so big,” you cry out pitifully.

“You can take it, slut,” Mingyu says confidently.

You don’t offer a verbal response but your body speaks for itself. Mingyu is almost splitting you in two but your pussy is swallowing him up greedily.

“H-harder, p-please,” your mouth seems to have a mind of its own because it speaks against any common sense.

Mingyu slaps your tits, a little hesitant at first.

It stings but it’s such a sweet hurt you’re already addicted to it.

“Like this?” he asks, making sure it’s okay.

“M-more,” you beg, forgetting all inhibitions. “Use me.”

He does it a couple of more times, while still fucking you roughly. His dick is so enormous that you’re certain you’ll be sore tomorrow but it will be more than worth it. You lose count of how many times you’ve come around his cock. Sliding out and flipping you on your belly, he takes you from behind, too, spanking your ass and gripping your hair.

“Such a good girl, just for me, right? No one else gets to see you like this, yeah?” Mingyu’s words come out rushed, almost in trance.

“All yours, sir,” you promise.

Mingyu seems satisfied with your answer because he spills his seed inside of you seconds after. You follow his lead and eventually, your knees give out, your mind goes blank and you collapse on the bed.

“Baby?” Mingyu checks up on you worriedly.

You are not capable of responding, brain barely functioning anymore. He moves you gently to see your face. Your eyes are open but unblinking, which scares the shit out of him.

“Come back to me, my sweetheart, please,” Mingyu cries out, hugging you tightly.

A couple of moments later, you still don’t remember your own name but something more important to you leaves your lips:

“Mingyu?” you whisper cautiously.

“Oh, angel,” Mingyu sighs. “I’m right here.”

Then, you suddenly burst into tears. Overwhelmed by how good he made you feel and how much he cares about you, your emotions fully take over.

“What’s wrong, baby? Did I hurt you?” Mingyu positions you so that you are sitting on his knee and rocks you gently back and forth.

“N-no,” you shake your head. “I’m s-so happy.”

“You poor thing,” Mingyu chuckles softly. “Can’t believe you worked so hard to doll yourself up and make the room smell nice. You knew I was gonna ruin your lingerie anyway, didn’t you?”

“I just wanted to look good for you,” you admit with a pout.

“You always do. My best girl,” Mingyu kisses you sweetly and wraps you in his warm embrace, lulling you back to sleep.

🎀🎀🎀

The next morning, you wake up to the feeling of wanting to pee so badly. You manage to climb out of bed but barely make one step and trip on the ground. Uh oh. You got fucked so good you literally can’t walk.

Awakened by the loud thud, Mingyu is by your side in no time.

“What happened?”

“You happened,” you reply truthfully, but you don’t blame him because you brought this upon yourself.

“Oh…” Mingyu understands what you mean. “Did you want to use the toilet?”

“Uh, yeah. Gosh, this is so mortifying.”

You cover your face with your hands.

“I was literally deep inside of you a few hours ago, get over yourself,” Mingyu laughs and lifts you up effortlessly, carrying you to the bathroom.

“Are you gonna stare at me?!” you ask in embarrassment.

“Might as well,” he laughs but gives you some privacy, even though there is no need to be shy after all the things you’ve done together.

After that, he insists on doing everything for you. You tell him you are perfectly capable of brushing your own teeth but nope, Mingyu wants to do that, as well. And honestly? It feels too good to reject.

He even makes breakfast and brings it to bed so you can share it together. As you take the first bite and drink the first sip of coffee for the morning, the feelings come crashing once again. And you start crying even harder than last night.

“Oh, baby, what is it?” Mingyu wants to know, as he brushes your hair behind your ear and wipes your tears.

“N-nothing, you’re just so amazing and kind I feel extremely touched.”

“You do realize this is literally the bare minimum, right?” Mingyu seems shocked. He just made pancakes. It’s not some heroic act, in his humble opinion.

“It’s so rare to find a lovely guy like you, though,” you admit.

“Well, my good girl deserves only the best,” he smiles shyly and kisses your cheek.

You wrap your arms around his neck, grinning wider than ever before.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll want to be good for you forever.”

“I’m counting on it.”

The End

[cardo-de-comer]

soo helloo and i think it's time for me to explain the deal with my characters and this whole "you're not supposed to be here" thing. EDIT: just fixed some stuff. thank you folks for your support, i really appreciate you all <3

i made these characters way back in june and by today they have a lot of lore around them in my head. i even have a dream to make a game with them but it's just a dream for now so i'm gonna try to explain the main things about this story. Obviously this is a long post, although I tried to keep this stuff short. and excuse me for my writing and any mistakes, I don't usually write this much text.

It starts with the world. Alternate 15th century, humanity is almost gone and what's left of it shares quite a big city with demons and angels. However, demons and angels are usually being treated like servants - eventually one gets tired of it all, so everyone knows an uprising is just around the corner. Let's just ignore that for now.

The City has a catch of it's own - it's alive. The walls have eyes and ears and the City knows every resident by heart and soul, both figuratively and literally. Usually City acts through the King, it chooses protectors for itself, ones who have strong minds to comprehend it - they will be called the royal knights, each of them have a company of a /more wiser than the rest of them/ demon and angel to help with their tasks. Only the King and ten royal knights know that the City is alive and very talkative but they don't understand fully what it's trying to tell them. Most of them choose to ignore the voices in their head because hey, that's what you do usually in this situation, otherwise they drive you nuts.

City is also extremely emotional and appearance depends on its condition. Usually it's a sunny day out and the city looks welcoming, but you don't want to be there when the City is scared: it might eat you alive by accident. Now that the environment is aside, time for the main three characters.

Imri is a young lad who will soon be a royal knight. He actually wanted to be a painter when he grows up but well, you cannot disobey the king's orders. Quite emotionless and a man of a few words, he tries to stay on a neutral ground between good and bad - a perfect candidate for manipulation to all three sides, demons, angels and the City.

look at him

Royal knights get to know their angel and demon companions at least a week before they get knighted to avoid any misunderstandings. Imri doesn't mind his friends at all, although one of them caused quite a fuss.

Angel /they name themselves Lyra/ is an overly positive, naive and blindly kind entity. A bit childish and very fond of justice, they try to act as a voice of conscience, not understanding that sometimes this can make everything even worse than it was. There is a feeling that they're trickier than it seems but you can never quite tell.

the latin text all over them is just a part of their design

The demon though... That's not even a demon, that's the Devil himself. Yes, everyone knows who this is, everyone avoids him and he's not supposed to be here at all. Despite being THE Devil, he didn't try to do anything horrific yet and, when he's not joking around, he tries to be the voice of reason, the voice that no one listens to. He seems to know a lot more about this whole world than anyone else but he talks about it only when he wants to.

no one likes him at all, expect maybe Imri who just tolerates his presence like he always does

That's the main three. There is a few secondary characters, Imri's father being one of them.

sir Jastrab /or just Dell/ is one of the royal knights, he's a bit naive, loyal, and a soul so kind that his demon hung himself. Oh well. He lost one hand in what he calls "a work accident" which is partly true but he never goes into details.

He never wanted for his son to be a part of the knights because he knows by experience that it's not an easy job and not every father wants for their child to go insane from the voices in their head.

few people said that the angel accompanying him looks like d20 and so be it

The others are Sun and Moon - local deities, despite being on the sky every day and night, usually they don't really care about what's going on down below. You can still talk to them but don't expect much action. Regardless of all this, they are still loved by almost all living things. They can rarely meet each other but humans always depict them together no matter what. Although maybe humans are right...

creators of the Stars - some part of a human soul that i can't talk about :)

Angels and demons come in all forms and sizes but those are the main population - lesser demons resemble the Devil in some ways and lesser angels look like clovers. Rivals usually but when the revolution happens, they learn to tolerate and work with each other. Humanity doesn't really have a chance.

they hate everyone equally And there is another being, that Imri meets a few times through the story - it's Death. Death is just having fun in this end of the world and there is a lot of work to be done.

this is an old and rough design so maybe it'll change The whole story begins at that day when Imri is supposed to be knighted. Everything seemed fine until Imri gets to hear the City for the first time and realizes that he hears and sees a lot more than everyone else. Completely overwhelmed he blacks out - even the toughest of minds often can't take it - and wakes up later only to find out that the King got killed somehow, angels and demons saw this as the starting point for a revolution and the City starts to panic.

Now Imri, guided by his companions and the voice of scared City that's crumbling and slowly drives him insane, shall travel to the center of it to find out what really happened, getting through demons and angels who are busy destroying the rest of humanity. Fun.

There is a lot more to this whole thing but I cannot tell the entire plot because spoilers, in case if i actually will make something out of this story. Think of it as a game lore. I'm not sure about making sth yet because i operate only on hopes and dreams and i barely have any strength lately but who knows... But now you have at least some context! And yeah, thank you if you actually read all of this, you're a hero.

Now i need to get back to drawing. Thank you all for your support. <3

[yey56]

HARLEY SAWYER X PSYCHOLOGIST READER

You have been working at Playtime CO for some years now, you worked as the head department of psychology but most of your work consisted on providing profiles of the children in the lower levels or as your coworker called them, experiments.

Over the years of working with them and knowing what they are being turned into, you've learned to work with them pre and post experimentation. Another thing you've learned through time was to deal with the partner you were assigned for the project. Harley sawyer.

What is there to say about that man. He is the head scientist in the project but he is absolutely horrible at dealing with them, or with anyone. That's how you were assigned to work along side him . He made the experiments and you maintained them under control.

Initially the ones who needed to be under control where you two because of your crashing personalities. While he was a serious control freak and borderline antisocial you one the contrary seemed to not take things seriously, constantly taunting him and the other stuff and with a permanent sarcastic tone in your voice voice.

Of course at first he didn't like you much, and to be fair you didn't make it easy. Everything he said refering to the experiments was refuted by your obsession to keep a mildly stable mental health in the subject.

Dr Harley sighed heavily looking your way with an annoyed look- What now?- he asked

If you keep treating the subjects like that your are going to break them.-you said in the observation room with him while you were both supervising experiment 1355, a young girl turned into a smiley unicorn.

They're toys, they can be fixed easily- he responded as if he had repeated you that phrase for the 11th time (he did)

You know what I mean Sawyer, they are of no use if their minds break-you explained with a calm smile- or have you forgotten what kind of problems an unstable subject could bring?- your asked him, your question mocking him.

It turned out well with Yarnaby or have you forgotten Dr (Y/L/N)?- he said imitating your question

You laughed slowly- ah yes the kid you isolated as your pet, great example Dr-

Harley Sawyer was well known for working alone, he didn't like others company and whenever he got an assistant or a guard, he scared them off by being authoritarian or exposing them to dangerous situation. You were the only one at the company who actually could keep up with him.

In the interviews with the children you would lead the conversation while Harley observed and took notes. In the laboratory you were more of an assistant, helping the Dr with whatever tool he needed or just preparing the chemicals.

Even though he hated to admit it, his experiments have been more controlable and causing less troubles since you started working together.

You would be unbothered by the kids, showing enough compassion for them to not recognise you as a threat, but showing not an ounce of regret in your eyes while seeing how Harley turned them into toys.

Do I have to remind you that compassion is useless in this job?- Sawyer said while closing a wound he had made on the experiment while operating

You haven't realised how much time have passed since your prior conversation have ended. It was strange for the doctor to initiate them, usually preferring silence but you weren't complaining.

Compassion can make a person go through great lengths- you said- But I understand that in this line of work it's nothing but a limit, a wall that needs to be broken in order to obtain results.-

For once in a long time both you and Harley agreed on something.

He finally stopped sewing the toys fresh wound and started reading the inform you had redacted about the psychological profile of the child before the operation- you should do another one once she wakes up (Y/L/N)- he reminded you while reading the little notes and highlights you left about her.

You always reserved a space the paper work to express your personal opinions on the experiment and Harley always read them. It's another thing he started doing, considering your opinions and advice as something worth of noticing.

-Doc...-

-Sawyer...-

-Sawyer??...-

-HARLEY!!-

He looked at you not noticing how he had spaced out of his mind for a moment while reading your report.

What is it?- he asked actually surprised that he was actually distracted enough to not hear you.

I was asking you about the experiment 1322, Doey. How are the three conscience developing? are they getting used to they're new body?-you asked. Doey was your favourite experiment so far, it was the one you have showed more interest in and your involvement with him was way bigger than with others. Sawyer didn't understood your fascination with Doey.

Since you both started developing the project, you had shown special interest in the idea of three people combined in a toy. In fact, the reason you had starting working more time with the doctor was because of your eagerness to see how the experiment would turn out.

You have become much more comfortable with one another, even after years of coexisting with each other in the lower levels of Playtime.

Sometimes he would catch himself looking at you while you were with the kids in the interviews. He observed your calm demeanor through the crystal of the observation room. He could see how the children grew more confortable with you while you were joking.

The cognitive abilities of the toys were improving each day thanks to your work so of course the bosses permitted you both to perform as many experiments as needed.

Another thing Harley noticed about the last week's was how you would spend most of your time testing and conversing with 1322. He had grown so used to your presence that it was getting harder to work without you present.

He would never admit that he missed your sarcastic comments about the designs of the toys or how he missed to call you a germ, his germ, whenever you were getting to annoying.

Sometimes when you went to the cafeteria upstairs to get some coffee or a sandwich to eat, you would get him something too.

You haven't brought anything recently and that was because of your new obsession.

He finally finished the last transformation successfully, now the only thing left was for the experiment to wake up and for you to examine them.

Harley wandered through the corridors searching for the one room he knew you would be in, this time, he was the one bringing you a coffee.

He watched you through the crystal of the observation room. You always insisted on talking face to face with Doey. The mass of doe seemed calmer with you around. The two more peaceful personalities of Doey talked to you, voicing their regrets and fears. Though the violent part of the creature always seemed reluctant to talk to you. Not responding what was asked of him or simply not responding at all.

Dr ( Y/L/N), your presence is required in the observation room number 29- Sawyer interrupted your conversation. Doey seemed afraid for a moment only to turn his expression into an angry one. With a gesture of your hand you calmed him down and signaled silently for Harley to turn on the ice so the doe wouldn't scape.

You exited the room to find your coworker handing you a cup of coffee. You looked at him with a raised brow but accepted it either way.

Well, look who it is.-you said with satisfied grin- I thought you were supervising Yarnaby?- you commented

Yes I was, are you aware of how much time you spend with that... Mass?- he said with contempt- what's so fascinating about him anyways? He's only been trouble.

You're only trouble as far as I'm aware- he rolled his eyes you sipped again- he's a time bomb and I want to be there to see it explode- you finally responded- I want to be the germ that makes him mutate.

Germ... It's a fitting name for you- he laughed with a smooth voice.-

You both stayed silent in the middle of the room, he looked at you calmly while you ended your coffee. He was looking at you trough his glasses without blinking, with his tired eyes.

You looked back at him and when you realised he had his fist raised at you, brushing with his tumb the remaining coffee right next to your upper lip.

Neither of you realised how close you where, the dim light of the room illuminated both of your bodies. Yours against the door and his right in front of you, your external layers of clothing touching lightly.

He got even closer, feeling his breath against your own. His thumb caressing your cheek

He thought about everything that had happened recently. How Pierre and the ones closer to him had started to go against you both in the semanal meeting with the executives regarding the experiments. Pierre's demands being met by your indifference, claiming that you will keep securing the experiments as much as possible.

The doctor remembered how you, just as him, were completely devoted to the project. He had became paranoic for the past months. More irritable, unwilling to socialise with someone who wasn't you or the toys

He got even closer to you, he though he heard you whisper his name. You closed the gap between the both of you. Hands on his shoulders

Lip against lip, his hand still in your face. You felt that Harley was the only human you could trust down here. No one understood you like he did. Your desperation to contribute to humanity, your desire of achieving a more lasting body. One that could endure more.

If you ever shared this with anyone else, you'll probably be in trouble.

Your closeness with Harley and his with you was out of understanding, a feeling of trust and comfortability that had just materialised thought he kiss you were sharing with each other.

He slowly pulled apart, his breathing uneven and one of his locks of hair misplaced a slight smile on his face. His forehead touched yours and he whispered just above your lips- My germ~

Only if you knew... That exact same week Harley Sawyer would be reduce no nothing more than a system, a screen, a conscience.

At the mercy of playtimes desires while you... Well ... Your whereabouts were unknown, even though they knew you didn't get out of the building.

Somewhere... hiding between wires and toy corpses...

I'm in love with the voice of the doctor AKA Harley Sawyer.

My drawing of Harley Sawyer:

[moonpascal]

VOODOO DOLL II T.N

summary: theo can’t get you out of his head. which could only mean you put a spell on him. or loosely based on a song

warnings: mean theo, language, hurt/comfort l WC 3.4k

authors note: fourth time trying to post this so let’s see how that goes

“She’s not going to magically appear if you keep staring at her table,” Mattheo muttered, irritation clear in his tone. Theo scoffed but kept his gaze fixed on the empty spot at the Gryffindor table.

Theo couldn’t stand you. That’s what he told anyone who would listen—you were too nice, too annoying, and every little thing you did got on his nerves.

The way you helped anyone in need, no matter if they treated you unfairly in the past. How you smiled at everyone and everything. Always in a good mood, when Theo couldn’t fathom why.

“Good morning, guys! Did you finish the Arithmancy homework from yesterday?” Your cheerful voice cut through his thoughts, nearly making him jump. Speak of the devil, he thought bitterly.

Theo rolled his eyes at your question. “Forgot again, or just getting lazier?” he sneered.

But your smile didn’t waver; if anything, it grew brighter. “Actually, I just need help with sections 6 and 8. I stayed up all night and still couldn’t figure them out!”

He couldn’t understand why you always talked to them—why you always acted so friendly with the rivals of your house. Maybe that was another reason he couldn’t stand you; it felt like you were deliberately trying to get under their skin.

“Sucks to be—” Mattheo began, but Theo jabbed his elbow into his side, cutting him off with a sharp look.

“Just here, take my paper,” he grumbled, pulling out his parchment and thrusting it toward you. Your fingers brushed his briefly, and Theo jerked his hand back as a tingling sensation shot through him.

“Thanks, Theodore!” you beamed, practically skipping back to your table, which only irritated Theo more.

“What the hell was that?” Mattheo demanded.

“Fuck if I know. I couldn’t stop myself,” Theo muttered. “I wanted to tell her to piss off and figure it out on her own.” He scowled, shoving his food away, his appetite suddenly gone.

“Maybe she’s got you under some spell, Nott,” Draco chuckled. “Drink anything suspicious lately?”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Theo snapped, the idea unsettling him. The thought of you having that kind of influence over him was ridiculous.

He could still feel the ghost of your touch, as if you were still caressing his hand, even though you were now back at your table, tongue out in concentration as you scribbled down the answers.

“Don’t get why she didn’t just ask Granger for help,” Lorenzo chimed in, mouth full of food.

“Because Hermione wouldn’t just give her the answers. She’d explain it step by step—which she doesn’t have time for—since it’s her next class,” Theo replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

The boys exchanged knowing smirks. “And how exactly do you know that?” Blaise teased.

Theo realized how that sounded, but before he could defend himself, you reappeared to hand him his paper back.

“You’re a lifesaver, Theodore! I owe you one,” you said, squeezing his bicep in appreciation before heading off to class early as ever.

“Yeah, whatever,” Theo muttered, trying to ignore the lingering warmth of your touch, the burning sensation in his chest, and the rapid beat of his heart whenever you were near.

Once you were out of sight, his heart began to slow, but a different ache settled in. It was almost like he missed you—which was ridiculous. He shook the thought from his mind immediately.

Maybe someone did slip him something; whether it was a prank or an accidental slip-up, he had to get rid of it, and fast.

———

Days passed, and Theo only felt worse. He constantly thought you were nearby, even when he knew you were in a different class on the other side of the school. Your touch was ingrained in his mind, as if he could still feel you. Some days, it felt like you were right next to him, invading his personal space, only for him to see you across the field, chatting with your friends.

His friends were no help when he mentioned it. They just teased him endlessly on having a crush on a Gryffindor, which he quickly shot down.

You were an annoyance. Someone who bugged the hell out of him, and that was it—nothing more.

To make matters worse, you both got paired up in Muggle Studies. A class he took just to piss off his dad was now backfiring spectacularly.

The assignment was to write an essay about what Muggles believed to be ‘witchcraft,’ which seemed simple enough—if only he didn’t have to work with you.

“Okay so I was thinking of voodoo dolls, because I think others are gonna pick psychics or magicians,” you started, flipping through some pages of your textbook, “and I think we could get extra points if we somehow have a physical doll!”

He could feel your excitement radiating off of you and it was nauseating but he nodded and agreed. You went on and said you would send an owl to your mother to see if she could buy one from the shops in your hometown.

Theo barely paid attention as you rambled on about your plans for the essay. The way you spoke with so much enthusiasm, your eyes bright with excitement—it was almost unbearable. Not because it annoyed him, but because it made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t ready to confront.

“Do you even care about this project?” you asked suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts. You were watching him with a hint of concern in your eyes, which only made him feel more unsettled.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I care about passing,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze. “But I don’t see why you’re so invested in it.”

You shrugged, the usual brightness in your expression dimming a little. “I just think it’s interesting, that’s all. And maybe…” You hesitated, then added, “I thought it’d be nice to work with you.”

Theo blinked, caught off guard by your honesty. His initial reaction was to snap back with a sarcastic comment, to push you away as he always did. But something stopped him.

“Why?” The question slipped out before he could stop himself.

You looked down, fiddling with your quill. “I don’t know. You’re different from most people, Theodore. You’re not afraid to be yourself, even if that means being a little rough around the edges.”

He stared at you, stunned into silence. Was that how you saw him? And why did it make his heart skip a beat? He could feel his defenses cracking, the walls he’d built so carefully starting to crumble.

“Anyway,” you said quickly, as if embarrassed by your admission, “I’ll let you know if my mom finds a voodoo doll. We can meet up later to go over the details?”

“Yeah… sure,” he replied, his voice sounding far away. He watched as you gathered your things, flashing him another bright smile before leaving the classroom.

Once you were gone, Theo let out a frustrated groan, slumping back in his chair. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never let anyone get under his skin like this before. Yet, with you, it was like he had no control over his own emotions. There was something wrong with him.

The thought of you saying he was “different” kept replaying in his mind. It wasn’t an insult, but it wasn’t exactly comforting either. He hated the idea that you could have this effect on him.

As the days went on, he found himself increasingly distracted by you. The way you laughed with your friends, the way you focused on your studies, the way you went out of your way to be kind to everyone—even to him, despite how he treated you.

The next time you met to work on the project, Theo couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering to your hands as you gestured animatedly, explaining some new idea you had. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have those hands touch him again—whether by accident or design.

When you handed him a book, he purposely brushed his fingers against yours and once more, he felt that now-familiar jolt of electricity. But this time, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let the contact linger for just a moment longer, savoring the warmth that spread through him.

But as soon as the moment passed, he cursed himself silently. He couldn’t let this happen. You were a Gryffindor, and you represented everything he claimed to hate—yet, here he was, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, noticing his distant expression.

“No,” he said quickly, forcing a smirk. “Just thinking about how ridiculous this project is. Muggles and their superstitions.”

You laughed, and the sound sent another pang through his chest. “It is pretty silly, isn’t it? But it’s kind of fascinating too, don’t you think?”

Theo shrugged, playing it cool. “Sure, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I am,” you said with a grin. “But maybe by the end of this, you will be too.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was no real malice behind it. “Don’t count on it.”

As you continued working, Theo found himself glancing at you more often, watching the way your lips moved as you spoke, the way your eyes lit up when you got excited about something.

After the study session, Theo left with an unfamiliar smile tugging at his lips, lost in thoughts of you. He was so preoccupied that he didn’t notice Mattheo approaching from behind in the hallway.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Mattheo said, his voice laced with curiosity. “What’s with the grin? Did you win a fight?”

Theo scoffed, quickly wiping the smile from his face and replacing it with his usual scowl. “Salazar’s sake, no, I wasn’t in a fight.”

“Then why are you so happy? Snog someone? Wait—don’t tell me, did you snog Bug?” Mattheo teased, his tone dripping with mockery, fully aware of how much Theo loathed that nickname recently.

“Stop calling her that,” Theo snapped, shaking Mattheo’s arm off and feeling his good mood souring by the second.

“Oh, since when do you come to her defense? Especially when you’re the one who started calling her that,” Mattheo retorted, raising an eyebrow. The nickname had been an impulsive jab, something Theo came up with in a moment of annoyance. Now, it felt like a cruel joke.

Ignoring Mattheo, Theo continued down the hallway toward the Slytherin dorms, determined to work on his portion of the essay. But Mattheo wasn’t ready to let it go.

Once they reached the Slytherin common room, Mattheo seized the opportunity to stir the pot. “Hey, guys, doesn’t Theo seem a little… different lately?” he announced, adopting an exaggerated infomercial voice. “We barely see him, and when we do, he’s actually smiling.”

Theo halted in his tracks, irritation bubbling up inside him.

“I noticed that too,” Pansy chimed in, her tone dripping with curiosity. “He’s been sneaking off a lot.”

“Yeah, what’s the deal, Nott?” Blaise added, his voice teasing. “Too good for us now?”

Theo rolled his eyes, adjusting the stack of books you had recommended in his arms. “I’ve just been busy, you know—actually doing schoolwork.”

“Sure, and by ‘schoolwork,’ you mean hanging out with Bug,” Draco chimed in, his grin widening. “I thought you couldn’t stand her?”

“You lot are a bunch of tossers,” Theo shot back, his patience wearing thin. “Yes, I’ve been working with her because we got paired up for a project. That’s all.”

They exchanged skeptical glances, sensing there was more to the story.

“What’s the project about?” Pansy asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Theo let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s an essay on Voodoo dolls for Muggle Studies.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Mattheo’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Voodoo dolls? Are you serious, Theo? You’re supposed to be the smart one here!”

Theo frowned, confused by Mattheo’s sudden outburst. “What the hell are you on about now?”

“Voodoo dolls, you daft git!” Mattheo exclaimed, practically jumping out of his seat. “They’re Muggles’ way of trying to control people! Haven’t you been paying attention? She might have one of you—that’s probably why you’ve been acting so strange!”

Theo stared at Mattheo, a mix of annoyance and unease settling in. The idea was absurd—yet the possibility gnawed at him. Was that really what was happening? It would make a lot of sense.

Theo dropped everything and bolted out of the common room, his mind racing as he stormed through the castle. The further he went, the angrier he became. How could you do this to him? He thought he was finally feeling something other than disdain toward you—only to find out you were messing with his head.

As he rounded the final corner near the Gryffindor common room, he spotted you. But you weren’t alone. You were talking to another Gryffindor, laughing that same laugh you shared with him. The sight made his blood boil, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“Was messing with my head not enough for you?” Theo shouted, his voice filled with fury. “Did you need more attention, so you found another tosser to add to your list?”

You flinched at his sudden outburst but didn’t immediately turn to face him. You quietly excused yourself from the conversation with your housemate before turning to glare at Theo.

The look you gave him was like nothing he’d ever seen on your face before—cold, angry, and so unlike the usual warmth you radiated. It unnerved him to be on the receiving end of such a glare.

“Can I help you, Nott?” you asked, your voice eerily calm. If Theo had been less blinded by his own anger, he might have noticed the tension in your jaw and the way your fists clenched at your sides.

“Yes, you can start by telling me what the hell you did to me!” Theo took a step closer, looming over you in an attempt to intimidate, but you stood your ground, unfazed.

“I haven’t done anything—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Theo interrupted, his hands gripping your shoulders as if shaking you might jog your memory. “You came up with that stupid voodoo doll project, and ever since then, you’ve been in my head day in and day out! So don’t act like you don’t know what’s going on!”

You shoved him off you, your scoff laced with disbelief and hurt. “You’re so full of yourself, Nott. Do you really think I’d waste my time controlling you? What kind of person do you think I am? Do you honestly believe I’m that desperate for attention?”

Tears of frustration welled up in your eyes, but you fought to keep them at bay. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his accusation hurt. “Fuck you, Nott. Maybe you should take a hard look at yourself instead of blaming me for the fact that you’re finally feeling something—anything—other than that cold, emotionless shell you’ve built around yourself.”

Theo stood there, speechless, as you turned and disappeared behind the Fat Lady’s portrait. Every word you said hit him like a punch to the gut. He knew you were right—he’d been pushing people away for so long that he didn’t know how to deal with real emotions. But hearing it from you, someone he had started to care about, hurt more than he could admit. He knew he owed you an apology, but he had no idea where to start.

The walk back to the Slytherin common room was humiliating. When he entered, his friends were in the same spots, waiting with anticipation.

“Well?” Mattheo asked impatiently, a smug grin on his face like he knew he was right all along.

“You lot are absolute wankers,” Theo muttered, snatching up the books he had dropped earlier without sparing them a second glance. He stormed up to his dorm room, ignoring their confused looks.

He had to find a way to make things right with you. The ache in his chest wasn’t just the usual discomfort he felt around you—it was something deeper, something he couldn’t ignore.

———

Theo spent the entire night poring over the books you had lent him. As he read, he realized Mattheo’s theory was complete nonsense. None of the feelings he had for you had anything to do with “voodoo” or any other magical influence. They were real, and they terrified him.

Determined to fix the mess he had made, Theo stayed up to finish the entire essay by himself, lightening your workload. He even turned it in first thing in the morning, two days before the assignment was due.

He spent the rest of the day trying to find you to let you know you didn’t have to worry about the project and to apologize, but you were nowhere to be found. He searched the Great Hall, the library, and even, with great reluctance, asked Potter if he had seen you. No luck.

By the time dinner rolled around, Theo was too distracted to eat. His fork aimlessly pushed food around his plate while his head rested on his palm. Enzo jabbed him in the side, snapping him out of his daze. Theo shot him a glare but followed Enzo’s gaze to see you walking past their table without so much as a glance in their direction. When you sat down at your table, your eyes instinctively met Theo’s, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw a flicker of something softer. He offered a small smile, but you rolled your eyes and turned back to your friends.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her anything but cheerful. She must be pissed that we figured her out, huh?” Enzo commented, eliciting a few laughs from the group.

Theo’s fork clattered onto his plate, the loud noise silencing them immediately. They had seen Theo angry before, but never like this, never directed at them.

“Do you ever think about anyone other than yourselves?” Theo snapped. “She didn’t do anything wrong. What’s wrong is that I listened to you lot and screwed everything up.”

He abruptly stood and made his way over to you. You furrowed your brows in confusion, aware that Slytherins didn’t usually venture to the Gryffindor side of the Great Hall. The hushed whispers that followed Theo didn’t faze him; he only cared about setting things right.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, asking you to follow him. Despite your better judgment, curiosity got the better of you, and you found yourself following him out of the Great Hall.

Theo led you to a secluded hallway, casting a quick Muffliato charm to ensure privacy. He took a shaky breath, closing his eyes for a moment before finally speaking.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice heavy with regret. “I was an absolute tosser. You were right—I’ve never felt anything like this before, and it scared me. I tried to find every excuse to deny it, and in the process, I lashed out at you. I shouldn’t have accused you of something so ridiculous.”

You stared at him, your silence unnerving him. He continued, desperation creeping into his tone. “I know there’s no excuse for what I said, and I understand if you want nothing to do with me anymore. But if there’s any chance, I’d like to start over. I’ll do anything to make it right.”

Maybe it was because you had started liking Theo too, or maybe it was the sincerity in his apology, but it wasn’t hard to forgive him.

“Although getting accused wasn’t ideal and did hurt, I accept your apology, Theodore,” you said, offering him a small smile—the smile he didn’t realize how much he’d missed until now.

Theo’s heart lifted at your words. “If I’m not pushing my luck… could I take you to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

Theo held his breath, anxiously awaiting your response. You hesitated for a moment, the silence stretching between you, before finally stepping closer. With a gentle smile, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering just a second longer than necessary. As you pulled back, your eyes met his, filled with a warmth that made his heart race.

“I’d like that,” you whispered, your voice tender and genuine.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Theo felt the tight knot in his chest begin to loosen.

©𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥 2024

[realcube]

can't stop thinking about quirk marriage au! with tenya iida.

with villains becoming stonger as the years go on, the iida family realise they will need to toughen up if they want their future generations to stand a chance at becoming decent heroes. especially after what happened to tensei.

to preserve their prestigious lineage, they arrange a quirk marriage for tenya, with a reader whose quirk is related to stamina or durability, in hopes to bear offspring who are both fast and hardy. reader comes from a poor background so they agree in exchange for money to support their family.

at first the marriage feels very much like business and tenya treats it as such; respecting you as much as he would a co-worker. which, albeit, is a lot but he doesn't care about you the way a husband should. he opens doors for you and will help you with household chores and is generally nurturing during your pregnancy, but he has no interest in sharing a bedroom or even eating dinner together. because he may be the father to your child, but he's not your friend.

it goes on like that for a while, until one day he hears you crying in your room. he's not monster, so of course he checks on you to see what the issue is, and you explain to him that you're afraid of what will happen if your child doesn't inherit a composite quirk. if you would be replaced and left to care for it on your own. he reassures you that he'd never abandon you or his child, and that the two of you could always try again. success doesn't come easy.

however, the moment of vulnerablitiy he shared with you was exactly that — a moment. afterwards, he immediately went back to being stern and distant, which contributed you putting up walls to protect your feeling from if he were to ever disappoint you again in the future. like a mantra that repeated in your mind constantly, he doesn't love you and you don't love him.

he never picked up on your increased resistance though, not until three years after the birth of your child and they began displaying signs of a fusion quirk. he turned to you, delighted, and you appeared relieved too, but he was left gawking incredulously after you said, "how lucky. thank the lord we don't need to have another child. one was hard enough."

hearing that caused his heart to drop, as he realised who he had become and the cumulative impact his behaviour has had on you. how could his own wife depise him to that extent? this question haunted him because he knew the answer, he just never had the strength to confront it before.

he had to do something to fix it, now. loving him wasn't necessary, but he needed to prove to you his worth as a father and a husband. he did his best to attend every single one of your kid's baseball games with you, he'd buy you a new bouquet of flowers every week, he'd kiss you on the cheek as a show of affection, whenever you needed a self-care day he'd arrange time-off work, he'd take the family out to the aquarium and the zoo and disneyland and wherever you pleased.

but none of it was ever enough to penetrate your rigid defences. despite his best efforts, he was left with a wife that hates him and child that may grow up to resent him. what a legecy he has paved.

one night, he is sat in bed, doing some light reading before he goes to sleep, when his child sulks into the room. they explain they had a nightmare and want to sleep in their dad's bed tonight. of course tenya agrees and usually there isn't any problems, but tonight the child continued to stir, until they requested, "can mommy sleep here too?"

tenya blinked. usually he would bend over backwards to cheer up his kid, especially as they are having sleep troubles, but this is a bit more complicated as you might be opposed to the idea. however, there was no harm in trying, so tenya sent the kid to your room to ask if it was okay with you.

and of course, you adore your child with everything you have, so if sleeping with your useless husband is what it takes to help them rest soundly, then so be it. you trudge into tenya's room and plop down on the queen-sized bed, with your beloved baby nuzzled between you two. it actually wasn't as awkward as you initially thought, and all three of you are lulled off into the serene night.

tenya woke up before you, so he was the first to realise that your child had snuck off in the middle of the night, while the two of you subconciously cuddled each other. hence, he had you wrapped in his strong arms, with your face nuzzled into his chest.

even with bedhead and a bit drool smudged on your cheek, he thought, you were still so beautiful. so much so, he couldn't help but smile and protectively tighten his grip on you. so funny too. sarcastic yet sickeningly sweet and caring.

had things been different, he wondered if the two of you would've truly been in love. he reckons so; you really are his type, and the perfect girl, which is something he's realising all too late. he blames the circumstances and wishes more than anything that the two of you could've met organically, because although he isn't the best husband, he would give anything to have been your boyfriend.

[motorsportbarbie13]

Aftermath - Chapter Six

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make something out of nothing for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

Aftermath - MV33 - Chapter 1 Aftermath - Chapter 2 Aftermath - Chapter 3 Aftermath - Chapter 4 Aftermath - Chapter 5 Master List

warnings: lando isn't in this one, chat :) but angsty upon angst and that's all i'll say. ENJOYYYYYYY pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader word count: 4.9k

(As usual thank you to @lestapiastrisgirl for holding my hand and helping me with the middle of this. You’re the bestest 🫶🏻)

Something had happened in Belgium. You didn’t know what, but something had happened. You could feel it. That was the only thing that explained Max’s sudden coldness towards you. It was textbook Lando treatment that you recognized from a mile away. The fact that Max was now treating you like this broke something in you that you haven’t even realized existed. 

At first you thought you were just being paranoid. A by product of spending the last three years being punished and ignored for the smallest offense. You’d developed an extra heightened sensitivity towards silence and your pattern recognition that you had honed during your time with Lando made you overreact to the smallest slight. You were always too sensitive though, isn’t that what Lando always said when you asked him the same thing? When you begged him to communicate with you, to tell you what was bothering him and what you could do to fix whatever you had done to offend him. 

So when Max insisted everything was fine while also avoiding you for the fifth night in a row, you knew something was wrong. Anxiety sat so heavy in your chest the night you had texted him asking if everything was okay, you could barely concentrate. You tried to ignore it first, tried to bury the desire you had to go up to his apartment a few floors above you despite him telling you he was busy, just to ask him face to face what was going on. You were almost brave enough. Almost trusted yourself enough to know that what was going on wasn’t all in your head. But in the end, you couldn’t. 

Lando didn’t make it any easier. After returning from Belgium last week, he hadn’t let up on the full court press of love bombing. You had stayed strong so far though, unable to even begin to picture yourself back with him. Belgium had been a disaster. You had known after the second sip of your drink that you couldn’t go back to him. Your skin crawled when he had wrapped his arm around your waist, attempting to pull you in close as you walked away from Max that night. You knew why he did it, to show Max that you were his. It was a possessive thing and it made your stomach churn. You’d spent so long begging for the bare minimum that the sudden attention Lando was paying attention to you made you nervous. 

So when Jade called you Friday evening to ask if you wanted to go out dancing, you had agreed almost instantly. You needed to get out of the house, knew that staying cooped up inside while you knew Max was upstairs ignoring you and Lando was in your phone begging to let him take you out to dinner (somewhere public where you’d no doubt be captured on camera, of course), was a recipe for disaster. You didn’t want to go back to Lando but you knew boredom and anxiety were a terrible combination that made for poor decisions 

Both Arthur and Charles were in Italy, doing testing for Ferrari in different capacities so it was just Jade, you, Alexandra, and Lorenzo’s fiancé Charlotte left to go out. It had been ages since you’d been out with the girls and as you zipped up the Ferrari red silk slip dress, you could feel in your chest this was going to be a good night. A few moments after you spritzed on a dash of perfume, your phone chimed with a text from Alexandra saying they were waiting for you in the car they had hired for the night. 

The night is cool, the warmth of the day melting away when the sun set below the horizon but you only had a quick walk from the car into the club. Your names were all on the VIP list, of course, being Charles LeClerc’s little sister had it’s advantages after all, so you didn’t need to worry about an extra layer. The moment you step into the club, the heat overwhelms you and you’re glad you only have the silky slip dress on. 

The steady beat of the music washes over you, dim lights calming your frayed nerves as you allow the crush of the Friday night crowd carry you towards the VIP section. You know this place like the back of your hand, you’ve been coming here since before it was technically even allowed. Who’s going to say no to Charles LeClerc’s little sister? Absolutely no one. You know the where the best places are to sit and watch, the best places to go and dance, to lose yourself in the loud music and crowds. Alexandra captures your hand in hers as she weaves her way through the crowded dance floor, her eyes set on the VUP section across the club. Behind you, Jade’s fingers are laced tightly in yours and you know Charlotte is bringing up the rear, the designated mother of the entire group. 

Once in the VIP area, you break off telling the girls you’re going to get a drink while they find the table that’s been reserved for you four. You knew you could wait for the bottle service girl to come take your order but you needed a moment alone and wanted to silence the anxiety in your head quicker with the help of a drink. 

The bar is crowded and it takes you longer than normal to fight your way up to the bar. You don’t mind though, the strategic negotiation it requires for you to get your body, warm and heated from the bodies around you, is a welcome distraction from the thoughts of Max and Lando bouncing around in your head. You desperately hoped Lando was anywhere else in the world right now, knowing that this place was one of his regular haunts when he was in town. That was the last thing you needed but you were fairly certain he wasn’t here tonight. It seemed as if Lando had a sixth sense where your whereabouts were concerned and if he hadn’t spotted you as you crossed the dance floor twice, he probably wasn’t around tonight. 

You order a double vodka cranberry, knowing that the girls will give their orders to the waitresses in time, and turn around to make your way back towards the table across the room. The moment you start back towards your friends, you’re met with a sight that steals the breath from your lungs. 

Max. 

Max on the stage with the DJ, hat turned backwards, tight black t-shirt straining against his well muscled biceps as he swayed back and forth to the music. There was what you assumed a gin and tonic clutched in his hands and as he slammed the drink back with a vigor that surprised you, it felt as if your stomach dropped out of your body, straight to your feet. Wasn’t he supposed to streaming with Redline tonight? That’s what he had told you just hours earlier, wasn’t it? Your first instinct is to defend him though and you think maybe he’s just taking a break from the 24 hour race or he wasn’t needed to help the team after all. There had to be an explanation as to why he was now blatantly ignoring you. There had to be. 

You stand there, frozen, in the middle of the dance floor so long that several people jostle you trying to get around your frozen body. You can’t seem to tear your gaze away from where Max is leaning in to listen to something the guy next to him is saying. You recognize him as a friend of his and Charles, an businessman in Monaco that you barely remembered meeting. Maybe he was here for something related to his business tonight? 

On the stage, Max stood, gin and tonic in hand, hoping that his fifth drink of the night would dull the pain that had gripped at his throat near constantly since that morning in Belgium. He knew, of course, he was being an asshole by ignoring you but he was panicking. He hadn’t realized how deep he was with his feelings for you. Hadn’t realized how much you had come to mean to him in such a short time. Things had always been platonic with you in the long history of his friendship with you. Or so he thought. So the way his chest had clenched so painfully when Lando implied that you had spent the night with him before the race had caught him so off guard he had needed several moments to remember how to breathe. 

He knew, deep in the back of his mind, that he needed to talk to you about it but he couldn’t. That morning in Belgium, you had overslept and had missed all of the pre-race rituals. You had gone straight to Ferrari hospitality so Max hand’t had a chance to ask you about what Lando had told him. By the time he got out of the car, finishing P2 that week, he was exhausted and ready to go home, not wanting to face you anymore. He wasn’t angry, not at you. He was bitterly furious with Lando and his attempts at capturing your attention again but he wasn’t angry with you. But at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to approach the subject, to ask you if what Lando had said was true or just him taunting Max. He didn’t know if he was going to be able to handle the answer if you confirmed what Lando had told him and that had a feeling of panic settling deep in his bones that he was still, a week later, trying to get a handle on. 

His gaze drifts lazily over the crowed form his spot on the stage. He knows the DJ performing tonight very well and likes the ability to be above the crush of the bodies below on the dance floor, so the stage is always his first choice when he comes to this particular club. When his eyes drift over a familiar pair of doe-eyed brown eyes, looking up at him with a look of utter confusion and crushing sadness, Max nearly drops his drink. 

Fuck. 

He freezes, breath catching in the back of his throat as your gazes clash. He watches as your brows furrow together, anger and pain flashing brilliantly across your pretty face and his heart clenches so painfully he has to grip the side of the DJ booth to keep himself upright. 

Fuck. 

He was so fucked. 

Why had he thought it was a good idea to lie? He wasn’t streaming tonight. He had come up with that lie off the cuff when you had texted him, the guilt of lying to you not heavy enough to stop him from typing out his response. He knew it was cowardly, avoiding you. He had no excuses for it but the last thing he had expected to see tonight was you starting up at him from the middle of the crowd. 

You tilt your head to the side as if you can’t understand what you’re seeing, a frown tipping down at the corners of your full lips. They’re painted a pretty red tonight and Max knows he’s never seen anything more beautiful. He watches as your bottom lip trembles a bit as you connect the dots in your head. You know. You know he’s been avoiding you despite his insistence that he’s fine. That you’re fine. 

When you spin on your heel, moving towards the VIP section at a clipped pace, Max knows he’s fucked up so bad he’s unsure that there’s a way back from this. But he has to try. 

You hear Max calling your name somehow, above the din of the music and chatter of the people that fill the bar. The alcohol in your system does nothing to curb the pain slicing it’s way through your body with each painful heartbeat that thuds loudly in your ears. The look on Max’s face when he spotted you in the crowd was so devastating you could barely breathe. Chest heaving, you do your best to avoid the people in the crowd, desperately needing a breath of cool air that you know you won’t get until you get outside. 

Alexandra spots you first, her face dropping in confusion at the look of utter panic on your features. “What happened?” She assumes it’s Lando at first but then she spots the blond Dutchman following closely behind you. 

Oh shit. 

“I need to get out of here.” You panic, sweat beading on your forehead, hands cold and clammy. 

Jade stands instantly, spotting Max’s panicked face right after she clocks the panic on your face. Hadn’t you mentioned that Max was busy tonight? Something about streaming with Redline? Why was he here, trailing after you, face as panicked as your pale one. 

“Come on.” She reaches for your hand as she stands, putting herself in between you and Max. She doesn’t know what’s going in but by the look on your face, she knows its nothing good. She could kill Max for whatever it is he’s done, even if she doesn’t know exactly what is offense was.  

Alexandra and Charlotte stand immediately as well, a physical wall between you and Max now as he desperately shouts your name over the chatter of the club. “What the fuck did you do?” Charlotte hisses, barely resisting the urge to toss her drink in his face. 

“I fucked up.” Max says, voice sharp with anxiety. 

“Yeah, I can see that.” She fires back as she watches Jade lead you through the crowd towards the door. “What the hell did you do, Max?” 

“I lied to her.” Is is only response because how else is he going to explain what he’d done to one of your sister-in-law. 

When Max goes to follow Charlotte and Alexandra towards the door, Alexandra spins on him. Her face is a mask of rage and contempt for the man standing in front of her. “I don’t know if you did this on purpose or what, but she’s been through enough without you fucking with her head too. Leave her alone right now, she doesn’t need another man to break her heart.” She yells, anger coloring her tone and causing several heads to swivel in her direction. “How could you, Max? How could you? Knowing what she’s been through and you lied to her? About what? Were you with another girl? Are you that stupid, you idiot?” 

Max hangs his head, knowing he deserves the public tongue lashing Alexandra is giving him. “No, there’s no one else. I just…I didn’t know what to do so I made a stupid mistake. Let me go out there and talk to her, I can explain.” 

Alexandra laughs, cold and bitter, while shaking her head. “Absolutely not. You’re not going anywhere near her right now. We didn’t protect her well enough from Lando and I’m sure as fuck not making that same mistake twice.” 

“You can’t keep me from her, Alex.” 

Alexandra shakes her head. “I know, but I sure as hell can keep you away tonight. Give her some time and then you’d better do some really good groveling, Max. I don’t even know the full story but from the way she looked at us just now, you’ve fucked up big time.” 

Max drags his sweaty palm over his face, groaning to himself. “I know. I know. I’m such a fucking idiot.” 

Alexandra gives him a curt nod. “You are.” She bites out before turning away with Charlotte, leaving Max standing alone in the club. 

It took several days for you to even entertain the idea of speaking to Max. He called you frequently and sent even more frequent text messages. Each voicemail, each text message was full to the brim with emotional apologies, promises to explain himself, and more. You felt yourself swayed several times, almost responding a few times but each time you pictured Lando doing the same exact thing to you and your stomach churned with nauseous anxiety. 

Finally, in the middle of the week after the incident, Max had had enough. He’d tried to be patient, telling himself that the calls and texts were enough, but when he woke up that Wednesday morning, he knew he had to try more. He could feel it deep in his chest that he was about to lose you for good if he didn’t try something drastic. 

A call to Charles was all that was needed to find out you were at your studio that afternoon. He was honestly surprised that Charles had even taken his call, sure that Alexandra and Charlotte had filled him in on what had gone down last Friday. But Charles knew Max. He knew that the Dutchman had fucked up but he also knew that it had been a mistake and Charles knew something else that Max hadn’t even realized. Charles knew that Max was in love with is little sister and that whatever he had done, it had never been with the intention to hurt you. He was still mad as hell his stupid decisions had caused you harm but he also knew that if he stood in the way of the apology that Max knew he had to make, you would be miserable for even longer. 

Because that’s what you were in those days between when you saw Max in the club and when he found you in your studio: miserable. You couldn’t quite work out what you had done to deserve the lies that he had fed you in the week after Belgium. You ran through every moment of the weekend, right up until the last moment you saw him on Saturday night. Everything had been going well up until Lando had found you and swept you away. You had promised Max you could handle yourself and maybe that was where you went wrong. Maybe he was angry you had gone with Lando to talk. But it had only been that: talking. 

The alert for your security system at your studio sounds in the middle of the afternoon, telling you that there’s someone at your door. The office building where your studio is doesn’t have a doorman so you’ve had this system set up since you moved your art in a few years ago. The notification beeps on your phone, pulling you out of the staring contest you’d been having with the painting you had started that weekend you had been alone in Monaco while everyone was in Austria.

 It was nearly finished but you’d been struggling with the last bits, trying to get it all pulled together. Nothing felt quite right with the last finishing touches and you were afraid to put anything more on the canvas because you desperately didn’t want to ruin it.

So when the alert yanked you back down to earth, you were thankful for the interruption. Until you opened the app and saw who it was waiting for you, that is. The video showed a distraught looking Max pacing back and forth outside the doors of your studio. As he waits for you to come to the door, he walks the short hallway, hands stuffed deeply into his pockets. A few moments pass and you just watch as he rakes his hands through his blonde hair, turning it into a rumpled mess that looks so good you hate yourself. 

Something in the way his shoulders sit, hunched and folded in on the rest of his body, sets your teeth on edge. There’s dark smudges under his eyes like Max hasn’t been sleeping. You’d spent the last few days comparing him to Lando, wondering how he could have even consider treating you this way. You couldn’t understand how he could have been so cold towards you, not after he had watched Lando do the same thing to you for years. It didn’t make any sense. 

As you watch him on the video feed though, something sticks out to you. Lando never looked like this after a fight. Never regretted the way he treated you. Never was apologetic or thought he was in the wrong. Just by watching Max’s posture you could tell he was a mess. You could tell just by looking at him that he knew he had fucked up and it was slowly destroying him from the inside out. And that difference was what had you walking towards the door of your studio, opening it moments later. 

“Baby.” Max sighs, his entire body sagging with relief so profoundly that he has to catch himself on the door frame. 

The term of endearment that had been a favorite of Lando’s sounds so much different passing through Max’s lips that it nearly has you weak in the knees. It sounds reverent when Max says it, like he’s about to get on his knees and worship you just because you’re standing in front of him. Like he can’t live another second knowing that he’d managed to hurt you in such a devastating manner. Like he’d do anything to call you baby for the rest of his life.  

You almost give in at that moment. Give into his pleading blue eyes. While Max seemed much more distressed than Lando ever was, you knew you had to stand your ground. Men have been pushing you around left and right lately and you were tired of it. One apologetic look from the Dutchman wouldn't be enough to break down the walls you had recently needed to reconstruct because of him.

"What are you doing here, Max?" You voice was harsher than intended, but it was taking everything in you to stand firm in your decision.

Max just stares at you, utterly unable to form a sentence that can explain what he’s feeling in his chest. You hold his intense eye contact, despite not wanting to be laid so bare underneath his gaze, because you simply can’t function with the way he’s looking at you. “Say something, Max!" You plead. "Why’d you lie to me? Why’d you put me through the exact same thing Lando did over and over for three years? Why’d you break my heart?” You hate yourself for the way your voice shakes when you speak.

The questions are sharp daggers aimed straight for his heart and they strike true with each syllable. Shame burns at the back of his neck, sending uncomfortable pricks of heat dancing up and down his spine. The way you’re looking at him from under thick lashes, begging him for a satisfactory answer is enough to undo his entire soul right then and there. 

The pain that settles into Max’s every muscle aches so fiercely he sways on his feet. He’d never meant to do this to you. Never meant to hurt you in this way. 

“I was scared.” He murmurs as he closes the distance between you two. 

His answer is so simple yet so infuriating you scoff. “Scared of what?” 

“I was scared to put a voice to what’s really going on in my head because it’s too soon and I don’t want to lose you.” 

“So you just blew me off? Max, you ripped a page right out of Lando’s handbook. I was spinning around for weeks, WEEKS! Trying to figure out what the hell I’d done to piss you off because the silence? The silence was deafening.” 

Max rakes his hands through his blond hair, the tension between you two bulidng to a point where it’s going to break you both if you’re not careful. 

“I didn’t…” Max struggles for the words, utterly undone by the look you’re giving him, your eyes begging for an explanation that you can make sense of. “Seeing you walk off with Lando that night in Austria was devastating and that scared me. I didn’t realize how far gone I was for you until you left me in that lobby.” Max drags in a shaky breath, trying to find the right things to say. 

“You’re still healing from all that Lando’s done to you and you don’t need an added layer of drama. And then I ran into Lando the morning after and he told me…” He continues, letting the words hang in the air, as if you know what should be at the end of his sentence. 

“He told you what?” Your heart hammers in your chest waiting for him to answer. “What did he tell you, Max?” 

“He told me what happened that night...That you spent the night together.” Having to say those words out loud made them so real to Max. This conversation right here was what he’d been avoiding now for God knows how long but there was no going back now. 

Your stomach drops straight through your body, down into your toes. “He what?” You sputter, so shocked that you can’t even begin to wrap your head around what Max has just confessed. 

"I saw him in the lobby the next morning and he said you wanted to get back together with him. I didn't know what else to do after he told me so I ju-…" Max stops short, his gaze darting away from your own to focus on something past you over your shoulder.

Confusion pulls at your features as you turned to follow his line of sight.

Your stomach lurches, a wave of nasuea hitting you straight in the gut. He was staring at your painting. The one you were painting of him.

"Max, that's not finished yet. No one was supposed to see…" Your panicked words dying on your lips.

Max doesn't spare you another glance, his eyes solely trained onthe portrait of him splashed across the canvas in bold reds, blues, and yellows.

He places a careful hand on your shoulder, gently guiding you out of the doorway, allowing him to enter your studio completely. His steps are unhurried as he crosses the space to see the piece up close.

This was it. You could feel what was coming now. The rejection. The taunting. The humiliation. Your secret was out and he was finally going to see that you thought of him as more than just a friend. He had to know now as your slight obsession was coming to light. You opened your mouth to come up with another excuse for why there was a canvas of Max taking up so much space in your studio. You had to salvage this, but the words just wouldn't come.

"This is from my win last year," He turned to you in that moment, his blue eyes swimming with more than just his unshed tears, "From Brazil right?"

You're only able to nod. The sky on the canvas is dark, exactly how you remember it being that day. You had watched Max go from P17 to P1 in some of the worst conditions you’d ever seen from your couch and remembered the intense mixed feelings you’d had during the race. It had been a season defining race for Lando, who had been inconsolable for days after. But a piece of you, a bigger piece than you were willing to admit to yourself at that time, had been over the moon excited for Max. Watching him celebrate the win after such a hard season had been etched into your bones that day and this painting was a result of that. 

The knots in your stomach tie up your tongue in ways you couldn't control. Your world was spiraling, completley out of control, and you didn't know how to make it stop. Max was never supposed to see the painting you had poured your heart into over the last month or so. Not after he had treated you after Belgium. Not after what he had done to you in the club. You had decided that your feelings for him had been unfounded and you had intended to hide it deep in a closet so no one would ever see your heart plastered so blatenly across the canvas like that.

"You didn't sleep with Lando, did you?" The words are a whisper as he continues to stare at the canvas.

Your heart lurches, "God, no! Max, absoltely not."

"I'm such a fucking idiot." He turns to you then, his face a mask of anguish and regret. "I thought that you were getting back with him and that's why I pulled away. I thought you were still in love with him and I didn't want to get in the way of your happiness, even if that meant you going back to him."

The moment Max had laid eyes on the painting though, he knew he had been wrong. He knew you well enough to know how much emotion you poured into your art and knew that there was no way you didn't feel exactly the same way as he felt about you.

"Lando was never going to make me happy, Max." You whisper, fingers suddenly itching to touch him.

"I could make you happy." He says, voice raspy with emotion.

"I know." You nod as the first tear slips down your cheek as Max closes the distance between you two in just a few strides. When his arms slip around your waist and he pulls you close to his body, you pratically melt into him. He's so warm and soft and it's everything you thought it be, being held by Max like this.

Max drops his head into the crook of your neck, nuzzling at the soft skin there. "I love you."

Your knees nearly buckle at his confession, a silent sob wracking your body. "I love you too."

And then he kisses you.

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[ready-to-read7]

Prompt #8

Okay I absolutely love the idea of pariah dark adopting Danny and I don’t see it quite often and I really like dead serious/Danny x Damien

After a bad Fenton parents revealed Danny escape to the ghost zone where he meets up with a very confused pariah dark who doesn’t understand why this baby ghost is acting hostile towards him and why the baby ghosts also injured so he asks and Danny is obviously confused on why pariah is acting so nice.

Danny then explains angrily to pariah about everything and based on the look on pariah’s face Danny can tell that something isn’t right and he finds out from clockwork that apparently the observance were being massive jerks and were manipulating pariah in order to get whatever the hell they wanted and of course pariah is furious with this because he was trying to make the realm a peaceful and happy place but he was being manipulated and controlled into being a tyrant and then imprisoned for it by the exact same people or beings that were controlling him.

pariah dark immediately then overthrows the observance stripping them all of their power and making them pay for what he did to everyone in the realm because technically it was their fault for controlling him. he then goes to Danny and tells him since he defeated him in combat he has the right to the throne but he is aware that Danny is too young, and will have him first  get a bit older before he becomes the next king at that point Danny Lets it  spilled that his parents are the ones who injured him and that they were still human and all of that and obviously pariah is not happy so he tries and succeeds in forming a bond with Danny essentially becoming Danny’s father.

And he also automatically takes Danny after forming the bond to the far frozen to get him checked out because there are severe injuries that  are definitely not okay, and obviously everyone from the far frozen is shocked to see Pariah dark holding Danny, but after he explains exactly what happened they let him see Danny again but by that point Danny had retracted into his core due to his injuries.

Pariah obviously being concerned because he is Danny’s new father figure would try his best to get his new son to reform but what he wasn’t expecting was for his new son to reform  into a toddler round about three years old.

After sorting all of that out pariah dark would then return to his castle and set everything up for his new son/Danny, and after setting everything up he would make an announcement to a very  terrified realm exposing the bad deeds of the observers and declaring Danny the high prince of the infinite realms the next to take the throne.

Pariah dark then spends two years taking care of Danny and fixing the realms

As soon as Danny turns five pariah dark decides to do something that he still thinks is normal because he’s so gosh damn old he doesn’t know that arranged marriages are out of style or not really done anymore but nonetheless he tries to find someone perfect to engage his half mortal son to, and he finds them , he comes across a natural portal of corrupted ectoplasm and learns that there is a group that literally treats this portal like it’s a gift from a higher being or something so he thinks these people might be liminal enough that if there is a child there to engage his son with they will be closer to what Danny is than anyone else.

So during the next ritual the group has he appears and tries to make a deal with the leader to engage his son with any child near Danny’s age and luckily there is a six-year-old boy named Damien.

ra’s al ghul  obviously not expecting a being to  come out of the pit is a bit wary on what he wants but when he hears that this creature is the literal king of the afterlife and that he is looking for a partner for his son he immediately jumps on giving him any one of his own children but when he learns that the being has a five-year-old and does not want his son to be engaged anyone too old for him ra’s then offers Damien since Damien is only six and this is like the best thing that could ever happen having his grandson betrothed to the next ruler of the afterlife is like the best thing that could ever happen to him, and pariah and ra’s end up agreeing to betroth Danny and Damien.

Damien being a child raised by the leag of assassins obviously takes it as a great honor to be the fiancé or whatever to the prince of the afterlife and sees himself as the perfect and only good option so he is going to fully commit to proving that he is the perfect option for the Prince of the afterlife.

And as they occasionally meet up and get to know each other and they both start getting feelings for each other, but they both are  kind of dense  so they don’t really realize it, Danny is the first to realize that he likes Damien after  Damien leaves to go live with his father, and is kind of sad that he can’t hang out with Damien anymore.

Damien on the other hand after spending a single year with his father realizes that he really really misses Daniel/Danny and then comes to the conclusion that he had actually gained feelings for his betrothed and is now upset that he can’t see Daniel/Danny anymore .

And like maybe a year or two or maybe even three later under some circumstances they meet up again and they literally won’t leave each other alone because they haven’t seen each other in so long.

[starlightxsvt]

VERDICT | sibilance. FINAL

synopsis ➳ you have found your way back to each other but that doesn't mean it is smooth sailing from now on. wonwoo's father is still trying to get him married and you have a decision to make. pairing ➳ rich badboy!wonwoo x lawyer fem!reader genre ➳ fluff, romance, smut. word count ➳ 13k warnings ➳ cursing, some mentions of food and eating, jealousy, reader is insecure at some point, jeonghan being a brat, a smidge of drama, brief angst in the sense of longing and regret, fingering, unprotected sex, edging, female oral, multiple orgasms, big dic wonu, creampie, soft sex.

previous chapter | series masterlist

The soft clutter of utensils and cupboards being opened and closed occupies the otherwise silent atmosphere inside Wonwoo’s house. You sit in the living room and watch with slight amusement as he moves about rather clumsily. You never thought making a cup of tea could be such a challenging task but as you watch Wonwoo scramble in the kitchen, you almost start to believe he is preparing a three course meal in there.

Gingerly, the man turns his head back, as if to check whether you are looking at him and once he sees that you are, in fact, he whips his head around and observes the boiling kettle with acute fascination. 

You suppress a smile and take a sip of water from the tall mug he gave you five minutes ago. 

His place is neat and tidy, taking you by surprise because the last time you were here, it was easy to think that a racoon broke in and rummaged through everything. 

The pillows on the couch and the centrepiece on the coffee table are neatly placed. The cream coloured carpet is straight and clean, looking freshly vacuumed and spotless. There are even a bunch of new books sitting on his bookshelf which you remember was previously almost empty and dusty, full of random nicknacks. Most astonishingly, you spot plants throughout his space, whether fake or real you are not sure but the green adds a tasteful pop of colour to the house. 

“Here you go.” Wonwoo murmurs, setting down your steaming cup of tea on a coaster. 

Then he awkwardly stands next to you, wringing his hands and watching you with nervous, careful eyes. You pick up the cup and the steam immediately fogs your glasses, helping you establish that the tea is still too hot to drink.

You set it down. “Have a seat.” You point to the velvet, cushiony chair opposite to you and he obliges immediately. He sits down and starts wiping his head with the damp towel around his neck, rubbing a single spot repeatedly as his eyes remain downcast, fixed on the floor. His acting reminds you of the naughty boys in your school when they were summoned in front of the principal and you find it quite amusing.

“Thank you for the dinner.” You start, deeming the topic a good conversation starter. “Mr. Pi told us that it was your treat. You really didn’t have to but thank you.”

“Oh.” He finally meets your eyes, his movement jittery. “No, it was really nothing. You guys worked hard. You deserved it.”

You smile. “Everyone had a great time. Jeonghan ordered a lot of food. He was out to drain your card. He even took some side dishes home.”

You don’t miss the way his face falls immediately at the mention of Jeonghan. “I see,” he supplies and goes back to staring at the ground.

A silence settles between the two of you. You watch him sit and fiddle with the towel, one of his legs bouncing up and down nervously.

“You are starting next week, right?” You ask, hoping to bring some life back in him.

His head jerks up. “Huh? Yeah. Next week.”

“I heard you are not using your father’s office.”

“No. I never liked that place. It comes with too many memories I wish to forget.” He explains quietly. 

“It’s always good to start fresh. So you’re leaving that empty for now?”

He nods.

Another beat of silence.

You reach for your tea and take a slow sip.

This is getting a bit too awkward. You have never seen Wonwoo like this; so out of place, so nervous and spooked. He is acting like he murdered your dog and you are about to punish him for that. Maybe, you should just cut to the chase. It is clear he won’t say anything, so you might as well speak your part and clear things out.

“So,” you begin, setting the cup down. “The reason why I’m here—”

“I didn’t think you would make your decision so quickly,” Wonwoo interrupts, his voice coated with a nervous edge. He looks at you, his pupils slightly dilated and his face paler than usual. “I mean…you are free to do however you want to…I just…I just thought I might have a c-chance this time, you know?” He swallows and licks his lips, his eyes bouncing around the room nervously. 

“I know how awful I was to you and still…I don’t know, I was clinging onto the hope that you would take me back even out of pity. I…imagined this moment hundreds of times. I…I thought you would tell me to go fuck myself over a text but it’s nice of you to come see me and break it to my face. I’m just…I’m just not ready I guess…” He trails off, his nervous rant coming to an end.

“You did not even hear what I have to say.” You raise an amused brow at him.

“Right.” He drops the towel on the floor and rubs his palms over his thighs. “Give it to me.”

You pause, carefully watching him before uttering. “Let’s start again, Wonwoo. One last time.”

Wonwoo blinks and then remains unmoving in his place, so still that one can easily mistake him for a statue. You wait and watch him, eager and amused for his next words.

You see his throat bob as he swallows and finally breaks off eye contact with you.

“You…you really mean it?” His voice comes out thick and scratchy almost like he is on the verge of tears. 

“Yes, I do.”

A sudden burst of laughter escapes his lips, the sound short and abrupt before he rests his elbows on his thighs and hangs his head low, staring at the ground in pure awe. “I…” He shakes his head. “Thank you.” His eyes meet yours, bright and shining with unshed tears. “Fuck…thank you. I promise to treat you right this time.”

You offer him a reassuring smile. He returns it, a bit wobbly at first before it grows, puffing up his cheeks and making his eyes form crescents. 

“Let’s take it slow this time.” You state, taking a sip of your tea. “Let’s get to know each other all over again. Slowly but steadily.”

He sits up straight and shakes his head with a determined nod. “Yes, of course. You call the shots this time. We will go at your pace.” He stops, watching you with a fond gaze. As an afterthought, he softly adds, “I am really very sorry about my behaviour so far. I have been foolish and immature about everything in my life. Now that I know how much you mean to me…how much all of this means to me…I will not let you down this time. I will not fuck this up.”

“I believe you won’t.” You reassure with a smile.

You finish your tea in a comfortable silence.

Soon after, Wonwoo drives you home. His car zooms down the empty streets of the city as you two sit next to each other, silent but comfortable. Soft tunes from the radio fill the car while you admire the view out your window, finding this boring, familiar city suddenly wondrous and full of colour. 

You feel like yourself after a long while, nothing weighing heavily on your chest and you can breathe freely. You glance at Wonwoo beside you and he does the same and when your eyes meet, the two of you break into a smile. 

—

The first week of your vacation goes by slowly but cozily at your parents' place in your hometown. Far from the hectic morning schedules of checking emails and going through hundreds of pages of case files, you stroll around your village, enjoying the greenery around you and the sunlight on your skin. You eat meals with your parents, help your mom with the household work, accompany your dad with his gardening and then sit by the nearby river and watch the children play as the sun goes down on the western sky. 

Your phone, which used to buzz with notifications every other minute, now remains mostly silent, except for certain times, like mornings and nights. Every morning, you wake up to a good morning text from Wonwoo, and at night, you receive a good night text. He asks you about your day and in return you ask about his, smiling at your phone at the simple, otherwise mundane words sent from him.

Despite being physically far away from him, you realize you feel closer and more connected to him than when you lay next to him. 

On the third day of your stay in your hometown, a package arrives early in the morning. 

Your attention from the TV is disrupted when you see your mom enter the dining space with a huge and expensive looking fruit basket in her hands. The confusion on her face makes you get up from your spot on the floor and observe the basket carefully.

It comes with a handwritten note that says, 

Dear ___,

A little gift for you and your family. I hope they enjoy it and I hope you have a good time at home. 

Love,

W

You try hard to stifle a silly smile. 

“Who is it from?” Your mother asks, opening the basket. “This does not come in cheap.”

“Oh, it’s from my boss.” You reply. “It's just a gift. I worked hard the past few months so he wants me to enjoy it with you guys.”

“How nice of him! I didn’t know bosses so nice existed any more.”

You only smile, helping your mom to take out the wide assortment of fruits. Once you are back in your room, you send a quick text to Wonwoo.

You: Thank you for the fruit basket. My mom really likes it.

His reply comes immediately.

Wonwoo: Don’t mention it. It was my pleasure. I want you to have a good time.

You: It was a thoughtful gesture. And don’t worry, I am having a good time.

Wonwoo: I am glad to hear it then. Let me know if you need anything.

You: Okay. Have a good day at work.

Wonwoo: Now that you texted me, I will have a great day ;)

Like a lovestruck fool, you grin at your screen.

—

The second week of your vacation passes as you organize your apartment and declutter all the junk that has piled up. In the evenings, you catch up with friends, visit cafes and restaurants, and go on a shopping spree before returning home for a peaceful sleep.

Wonwoo and you have fallen into a routine now. Other than random texts throughout the day, a voice call at night has become mandatory for you. He has been calling you every night after you get into bed and it is almost embarrassing how easily you fall asleep while listening to his voice over the phone. 

“When can I take you out on a date?” He asks randomly on a Friday night as you lay in bed and twirl your hair, staring at your ceiling.

“I don’t know.” You reply teasingly. You hear him sigh. 

“Are you really coming back to work this Monday?” He questions after a pause.

“Yes, I am.” “Take a longer break. Seriously.”

You release a sigh. “I have done all that I wanted to do for this break. I am honestly looking forward to returning. I miss my office.”

“Said no one ever.” Wonwoo huffs, making you laugh.

“Plus,” you grin even though he cannot see it. “I look forward to experiencing my first-ever office romance.”

You hear a short burst of laughter and you imagine Wonwoo’s face. 

“Well, then I need to give you enough work so that you visit my office every day.”

“How cruel of you.” You mock. “How can you do that to your over worked girlfriend?”

Wonwoo laughs which is followed by silence.

You observe the night sky from your bed, marveling at the beauty of the twinkling stars in the dark sky in the quiet solitude of the night. Wonwoo softly calls your name.

“Hm?” You hum.

“I am so lucky to have you.” His soft voice floats through the speaker. “I sometimes can’t believe you are my girlfriend now. Thank you, truly, for choosing me.”

His words make your heart soar, pounding loudly in your ribcage and you smile into your pillow.

“Quite a romantic, aren’t you, Mr. Jeon?”

He chuckles, the sound deep and throaty, sending tingles all through your body. Suddenly, you wish he was next to you so that you could kiss him.

“Only for you.” He replies, making your grin broader. 

—

You did not expect to be greeted by a huge bouquet of roses when you entered your office after your break. You stand on the threshold of your office, your mouth agape because of the bright red roses sitting on your desk and one of your co-workers sitting nearby takes notice of your shock.

“It came about fifteen minutes ago. A delivery man left it.” She explains. “The sender was anonymous. We were so curious we had to ask.” She adds sheepishly. 

You awkwardly chuckle at her words. 

Who could it be?

Shutting the door behind you, you drop your coat and bag and rush straight to the bouquet, smelling the sweet, heady scent of the flowers. They look even more beautiful up close, bright red and shiny and you cannot help a giddy smile of excitement. As you take the bouquet and carefully observe it, you find a pastel pink card stuck near the bottom of the stems. 

Immediately, you snatch it and pry it open. 

Welcome back. Thank you for another chance. Here is to new beginnings. 

Love, W

You bite your lip, trying to stifle the goofy smile spreading on your lips.

“Damn, who got you smiling like that?” Jeonghan bursts open through the door, ruining your moment.

“Ugh, Jeonghan!” You glare at the man, folding the note and stuffing it in your pocket.

He strolls in. “That is not how you greet me after not seeing me for two weeks.” He eyes the roses with a smirk. “I see we have a loverboy in our hands.” You roll your eyes. 

Jeonghan leans closer to your face and wiggles his eyebrows. “Looks like you two have…” he makes a suspicious gesture with his hands by slowly intertwining them, “reconciled in your break.”

This man, you swear to god. 

Ignoring him, you gently set aside the bouquet on your coffee table and fish out your phone from your pocket. “Shouldn’t you be asking how my vacation went?”

“Why bother with that when I can clearly see how good it went.” He grins suggestively.

“Gosh, you’re so annoying. Don’t you have any work to do?”

He pouts. “I just wanted to welcome you back. Also for your information, yes I do. With you gone Mr. Pi was stuck on me all day. Do you know how many cases I’m working on at the same time?”

“Mhmm.” You try to pay attention to his words while typing a message to Wonwoo.

Thank you for the roses. They are absolutely stunning.

Jeonghan, noticing your lack of response, leans over your shoulder to peek at your screen. “Ugh.” He makes a noise of disgust, waving his hand dismissively. “I cannot believe you’re choosing hoes over bros.”

You set your phone down. “I can see you’re as dramatic as before, bro.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, ready for a comeback with a snarky reply when his phone starts ringing. With a dejected sigh, he pulls it out of his pocket, heading for the door and casually pulling out a flower from your bouquet on his way. He grins, waving the flower at you and smoothly slips out of your room, leaving your mouth open. 

Gosh, he can be such a brat sometimes.

Your phone vibrates just then and you immediately unlock it to read Wonwoo’s message. 

My pleasure, love. They are not half as beautiful as you but I’m glad it made you happy.

You keep smiling goofily at your screen.

—

A shocking email waits for you in your inbox when you get to work on Tuesday morning. 

It is from secretary Yu, informing you that you have been selected for a promotion. If you accept, you will be the deputy head of the legal team of Jeon Industries. The email states you have two days to think it over and a response is expected before the meeting on Thursday.

You are blown out of the water.

For many long moments, you think you are reading it wrong and then for another good minute, you think it is addressed to the wrong person.

Once you realize none of that is true and this is in fact, reality, your hands fly to your gaping mouth. You scramble to find your phone and immediately dial Wonwoo who picks up on the third ring. 

“Hey there. Good morning.” He greets you warmly.

“Wonwoo—” You stop, struggling to arrange your thoughts. “Did you…did you recommend me for a promotion?”

“What? No.” It's hard to gauge his tone through the phone.

“Wonwoo, be serious.”

“I am. I didn’t!” There is a short pause. “Wait— did you get a promotion?” He almost yells.

“Apparently,” you murmur, staring at your computer. “I just saw Secretary Yu’s email.”

“What does it say?”

“I am chosen to be the next deputy head of your legal team.”

Silence.

“Holy shit.” He breathes. “Congratulations, sweetheart! You deserve it. I promise I had nothing to do with this.”

“Thank you. I…I just can’t believe it. It seems unreal.”

“Trust me, you deserve it so much.”

“I think your father is behind this.”

Wonwoo is quiet for a few beats. “I think you’re right. Well, this is the only decision of his I fully support and agree with.”

You smile, shaking your head at his words. 

Looks like you have got a decision to make.

—

“You’re hiding something from me,” Jeonghan states pointedly as you two wait in front of the elevator, ready to clock out for the day.

You whip your head towards him who stands with his hands in his pockets, his eyes trained on the little screen showing the floor number on top of the doors.

“What makes you say that?” You ask, amused.

“So you are hiding something from me,” he stares at you. The elevator reaches your floor, opening with a soft ding and you step in, followed by Jeonghan. “What is it?” he asks as the doors close. You smile, humming.

“Oh come on!”

The doors reopen on the next floor and the empty elevator is suddenly overcrowded as a dozen of people flood in. You and your colleague are pushed to the very back, your backs pressed against the cold steel wall.

“I got a promotion.” You whisper to Jeonghan who stands next to you. He takes a second to register your words before his eyes widen and then, in the crowded, confined space, he yells, “What!”

Everyone turns to look at him. You avoid their gaze out of embarrassment, instead staring hard at your shoes, stifling a smile while being hyper aware that Jeonghan is drilling holes into your face with his eyes.

As soon as you are out of the elevator, Jeonghan blocks your way in a dramatic fashion. “Lawyer ___, you have got some explaining to do. Right now.”

“I’ve been selected as the deputy head of the legal team of Jeon Industries.”

His jaw falls slack. The next moment, he is engulfing you in a bear hug. “Congratulations! Fucking hell, I’m so happy for you! Wait…why did you keep this from me?” His face deadpans as he observes you carefully.

“I…I didn’t necessarily hide it from you.” You look down. “I’m just…still processing it. It feels too good to be true.” “Are you seriously doubting your capabilities right now? You’re the perfect person for the job. Hell, I don’t see why they did not make you the head.”

You laugh, shaking your head at his words.

“No, I’m serious! Don’t laugh!”

You nod, still smiling. Pushing your glasses up your nose, you look into his eyes. “Thank you Jeonghan. Seriously.”

“Well, a thank you won’t cut it,” he announces, heading towards the revolving doors, dragging you by your arm. “You need to treat me. Let’s go for some drinks.”

“I’m really sorry.” You stop. “I have plans.”

Jeonghan turns back, his eyes narrow. “Let me guess, with the billionaire, alpha hot CEO Mr. Jeon Wonwoo?”

You snicker, shoving him playfully. “Oh my god, you’re so annoying!”

He grins. “Is he coming to pick you up?”

“No, I’ll meet him at the park next block.”

“Ah, I see.” He nods. “Keeping it under the wraps now, eh? You don’t want to make it public?”

You immediately shake your head no. “You know how it is. He just became the CEO and a dating rumour would put him under even more speculation. Plus, we’re taking it slow this time. It’s still too early to announce anything.”

“Hmm, it’s a good call.” He reaches into his jacket, fishing for his keys. “Would you like me to drop you off over there?”

You chuckle, “It’s barely a five minute walk, Jeonghan.”

“Alright then. Have fun with your lover boy, I guess. You still owe me drinks!” He starts walking. “Also, don’t forget to use protection!” He yells out loud and purposefully, grinning like a gremlin at your horrified reaction. 

The lobby is fairly empty but you don’t miss the looks the few people around are giving you.

“Fuck you, Jeonghan! No drinks for you!” You yell back, face heated with mortification.

—

“I cannot believe we’re here doing this,” Wonwoo murmurs, staring at the tray of burger, fries and drinks on his lap. You pause in the middle of a bite of your burger to look at him. 

“I really thought I could get a reservation there.” he sighs, referring to the Michelin-star restaurant he wanted to take you to for dinner. “I wanted to celebrate your promotion with a seven course meal and here we are eating…burgers.”

You finish chewing your bite and then glance at him. “Wonwoo, seriously, this is great. I was craving fast food anyway. And you have to admit, this is much more fun. Getting drive through and eating in your car after work? I’ll take this over a fancy restaurant any day.”

Wonwoo looks at you, a soft smile blooming on his lips. 

You point your chin at his food. “Try the burger, seriously, it is so good.” You reach for your own, taking a quick sip of your drink and letting out a satisfied groan. The fizzy drinks and the greasy burger are a phenomenal combo.

“You look beautiful.” Wonwoo suddenly says, making you pause chewing your food and look at him, both startled and shy. His thumb brushes across your lower lip, wiping away the stain of sauce. He brings the finger to his lips, licking it clean while holding eye contact with you.

Your heart skips a beat and you immediately look away, feeling your face heat up. 

It feels like a thousand degrees in here suddenly. 

“I really missed you.” He murmurs, his voice tender and sweet, doing nothing but increasing the beat of your racing heart. You take a long gulp of your drink before meeting his soft gaze. In the dimly lit parking space, the artificial lights cast weird shadows on his face yet he has never looked this handsome, this ethereal, you realize. 

“I missed you too.” You whisper with a twinge of smile. “Two weeks turned out to be longer than I thought.”

He smiles. “It was long. Excruciatingly so.” He pauses. “Have you thought about the offer? You’re taking it right?”

“It sure is tempting.” You reply, going back to your food. With every bite you take, your hunger seems to increase tenfold. You briefly wonder what they put into this.

“If you are doubting yourself then please don’t.” Wonwoo places a soft hand on your thigh. “You are so talented and hardworking. More than anyone else, you deserve it. After all, no one handled my tantrums and all the troubles I caused better than you.”

You laugh, nodding. “That is true.” 

“Plus,” he leans closer to you. “We cannot have that office romance I was talking about if we are not in the same office.”

You meet his gaze. “Oh! You are right about that. But wait…are you trying to bribe me into taking the position?” You playfully narrow your eyes at him, popping a fry into your mouth. 

“You caught me there,” he grins before smirking at you. “Just think of all the fun things we could do at work.” He wiggles his brows suggestively.

“Jeon Wonwoo!” You throw a fry at him, laughing. He grins his signature foxy grin that sends your heart racing and butterflies erupting in your stomach. 

“But seriously,” You watch his expression shift as he pops the fry into his mouth before looking at you. “I know the new title will come with a lot of responsibilities. And I also understand that you will be leaving your colleagues behind so the scene will be unfamiliar to you at first. Still, I think you will smash this job. I was going to offer you a permanent position at my company anyway before I heard this.”

“Hmm, I wonder why.” You tease. “To do scandalous things at work with me?”

Wonwoo huffs but you don’t miss the smile creeping up on his lips. “I’m being serious, ____.”

You nod, wiping your fingers with the napkin. “I know. Thank you for your words, truly.” You place your hand on top of his knuckles. 

“I’m just speaking the truth.” He replies, holding your hand between his.

“Thank you, Wonwoo. For this—” you gesture at the food and the interior of his car, “for your kind words and for your support. Thank you.”

His lips touch your knuckles for a soft, sweet kiss. “It is my pleasure, always.” 

—

The meeting goes well on Thursday morning. You are surprised to find Chairman Jeon there along with Wonwoo, who wanted to officially introduce you as the deputy head to the entire team. After the meeting, you are shown a room, which is set to be your personal office from next week, located on the same floor as Wonwoo’s office and right next to Mr. Choi’s office, who is the most senior and head lawyer of the company.

That night, Mr. Pi takes you and some of your closest colleagues for drinks, treating it as an official goodbye party for you. He even sings two songs for you, crying his drunk heart out while saying goodbye and wishing you well while you and everyone else cringe in their seats, covering your ears. 

“I’ll miss you, seriously.” Jeonghan murmurs, staring at the ground as you both walk home after the drinks and deafening singing.

“I will too.” You sigh. “Come visit me often. We have meetings every week at the headquarters anyway.” He nods. “You know, I am so glad that I met you. It was so fun working with you for the last few months.”

You smile. “Same for me. Though you were really annoying sometimes, I will miss you, Lawyer Yoon.”

He grins. “Well, as my final show of respect for you, I shall escort you home tonight. Protect you from the dangers of the night.”

“Mhmm,” you smirk. “From stray dogs too? There are a few in the park by my apartment.” You watch his face for his reaction, knowing very well Jeonghan is afraid of dogs. He doesn’t like dogs and unsurprisingly, dogs don’t want him either.

“Well then, my lady,” Jeoghan says with mock seriousness, “you will have to fend for yourself.”

Your laughter echoes through the quiet air of the night. As you continue down your path home, you realize something. You have been smiling so much recently, more than ever before.

The revelation once again, makes you smile. 

—

The lobby of the Grand Hotel is slightly more crowded for a Saturday morning, you observe while sipping your coffee and waiting for your friend to come downstairs. A business convention is taking place in the hall room, which accounts for the men in suits and ties scrambling all over.

You are here to see an old friend from college who has settled abroad because of her career as a fashion designer. She is staying here and you are set to meet at the lobby before going on a shopping and eating spree. She rarely visits her homeland and now that she has, a reunion of the two of you was a must.

Your eyes skirting all over the huge lobby spot Rina before she spots you as you find her stepping out of the VIP elevators. Your hands spring up on their own out of excitement and you start waving them to gain her attention. She notices you immediately and with a squeal dashes to you and engulfs you in a hug.

Your conversations flow immediately as you two plop down on the plush sofas in the lobby, ordering some drinks for your throats which will soon be parched from all the talking and the laughing.

Rina shares about her life and work abroad and you talk about your work and your recent promotion. The topics flow smoother than the current of a river as you eagerly listen to every word your friend says, sipping your drink occasionally.

Until…

Until suddenly, your attention from your friend’s words is snatched away as you spot something in front of you. Something so serious it pries you away from the conversation you were so engaged in. 

About a hundred feet away from where you sit there are a group of people, two older men who you immediately recognize. One is Chairman Jeon and the other is President Lee, owner of the biggest textile industry in the country. Seeing them here is nothing out of the ordinary because today’s convention is arranged by Mr. Lee’s company and Chairman Jeon is a close friend of his, thus he is naturally attending. As they sit down, you spot a young girl next to Mr. Lee, appearing to be his daughter.

What catches your full attention and sends your heart racing, however, is the presence of Wonwoo, dressed formally in a grey suit and pants, who walks to the group, shakes hands with Mr. Lee and then sits next to his father, his back facing you.

Agitation crawls up your neck like a slithering snake as you watch the group talk, a bright smile plastered on the girl's face as she talks to Wonwoo. Then suddenly, it hits you like a ton of bricks.

It is Yuna Lee. 

Of course. Yuna Lee, the only daughter of Mr. Lee, the girl Chairman Jeon wants Wonwoo to marry.

A stuttered breath falls from your lips as you continue watching their exchange until you cannot anymore. 

“Rina,” Your sharp and urgent tone stops your friend in her speech. She regards you with slightly wide and puzzled eyes.

“Let’s get out of here.” You stand up, slinging your bag over your shoulders. “It is too crowded. There’s a nice cafe on the next block.”

You force a smile.

—

You lie in your bed, sprawled out, blank gaze fixed on the ceiling of your bedroom.

Today was shit.

You were so excited to catch up with Rina, take her around the city and have a fun time reconnecting with an old friend. None of that happened because you spent the entire day in a haze, your mind repeatedly going back to Wonwoo and Yuna, her shining eyes and bright smile, looking eagerly at Wonwoo.

Yuna Lee, the ex prima ballerina. Yuna Lee, the most sought after single woman in the country, both by men and the hundreds of brands eager to work with her. Yuna Lee with her porcelain skin, slanted eyes and a smile so sweet it could cure the plague. Yuna Lee, heir to billions and a perfect match for Wonwoo, in all ways.

The thought raises bile to your throat, and you hate how bitter, insignificant, and jealous you feel. What is worse is that Wonwoo never mentioned this meeting to you. Yesterday, he took you out to dinner to celebrate your promotion and then drove you home afterwards. He walked you to your door, pressed a soft, loving kiss to your lips, and wished you a nice time with your friend.

Did he know all along? Why did he lie to you? He rejected Yuna, didn’t he?

As if on cue, your phone rings, jolting you out of your thoughts. The caller is Wonwoo and you stare at the screen, your hands not moving to pick up the call. It continues ringing before finally the call disconnects and with a sigh, you lie back down, slightly relieved. You don’t feel like talking to him right now. He texted you earlier, asking how your hangout went but you have not replied. It is petty and childish and very unlike you but today, you cannot find it in yourself to give a fuck.

The phone rings again and with a huff, you sit up, contemplating. Finally, on the fifth ring, you begrudgingly pick up the call. 

“Hey? You alright?” Wonwoo’s voice immediately floats through, concerned and hurried.

“Yes,” you try to put some effort into making your voice lively. “I was in the bathroom, didn’t hear the ring.” The lies slip away easily.

“It’s okay. I was getting worried. Did your date go well? How long is your friend staying?” 

“Yes, it was good.” Your voice is flat and you are aware of how dry you sound. “Another week, I think. She needs to return to Italy for the fashion week.”

“I see.” Wonwoo hums. “Oh, right. ____, could you open your door real quick? I sent something for you. My assistant is there.” “Wait? What?” You sit up straighter. “Now?”

Wonwoo laughs, “Yes, now. I wanted to surprise you. I’ll be on the call, just open the door.”

You shuffle out of bed, putting on your slippers and hurrying out of the room. Without bothering to look at the intercom screen, you open your door and fall silent.

With parted lips and wide eyes, you stand there, holding the door open as your hand holding your phone to the ear falls down your side.

Wonwoo grins, sweet and cheeky, his nose scrunching up from the action. He stands there in a navy blue oversized sweater and cream pants, looking boyish and happy as he extends a bouquet of mixed flowers to you.

“Surprise!” He chirps, hanging up the call.

A noise of shock and bewilderment comes from you as you reach out for the flowers. “I— you…”

Wonwoo chuckles, walking into your apartment. “I see you are surprised, love.” He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Momentarily, you are taken over by the clean, soapy scent coming from him and you close your eyes, savouring his smell and his touch. Too quickly for your liking, he moves away, toeing off his loafers and stepping into your living area.

“I was wondering if I did something wrong you know,” he smiles as you follow him in. “You didn’t reply to my messages earlier and my call so I was wondering how I fucked up.”

“So you came prepared with the flowers?” You ask, your voice less playful than you intended it to be. 

“Not really,” he replies, watching you set the bouquet in a vase and place it in a corner of your kitchen counter. “I wanted to surprise you anyway…” He trails off, walking closer to you. Gently holding your shoulders, he makes you turn to face him, his eyes focused and curiously set on your face. He whispers, “You know, I’m not really good at this stuff but I do think that something is wrong. You are mad at me aren’t you?”

You cannot help a smirk. He did grow up, didn’t he?

“Well…if you haven’t done anything wrong then it should be fine, no?” You walk past him and head into your bedroom, sitting down comfortably on the bed. Like an obedient puppy, he trails after you and then sits next to you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I really don’t know what I did wrong. I’m sorry for not getting it and I’m sorry for whatever I did wrong.” The genuine look of distress on his face makes you sigh softly.

“Wonwoo…” You murmur, looking at his hands fidgeting on top of his lap. “I saw you today, at the Grand Hotel. With your father and Mr. Lee and…Yuna.”

Wonwoo’s eyes widen slightly as recognition flashes over his face. “Ah, that.” He sounds almost relieved.

“You didn’t tell me you were seeing her today.” You whisper, your voice meek and small, your gaze trained on your own lap.

“Sweetheart, I didn’t know, I promise.” Wonwoo urges, his hands coming to rest on top of yours. “I was there to attend the conference and then I got a call from my father, asking me to come out and meet Mr. Lee. I didn’t know she was there.”

“What did you guys talk about?” You whisper, relishing the feeling of his warm hands on yours. Wonwoo remains silent for a beat and you know what the answer is. You cannot bring yourself to meet his gaze so you choose to stare at his hands instead. 

“Marriage.” Wonwoo’s voice is quiet. “My father and Mr. Lee wish to see us married.”

“Yuna too.” You murmur, almost to yourself.

“What?”

“Yuna too.” You exhale a heavy sigh before looking at him. “She likes you, Wonwoo. I saw how she was looking at you. I know that look. She also wants to get married to you.”

Wonwoo remains silent, his lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze piercing your heart and soul, leaving you unable to guess what he is thinking. For one too horrible moment, you think you have lost Wonwoo.

“Well that's too bad,” he says, squeezing your hands. “Because I don’t feel the same way about her. There is only one woman on this planet I want to marry and I think we both know who that is.”

The corners of his mouth lift in a teasing smile and your heart soars, a small smile creeping on your face too.

He continues. “I told them very clearly today that I won’t marry Yuna. My father was very annoyed, of course, but I don’t care. So rest assured sweetheart, I’m all yours.”

Your shy smile morphs into a giggle as you lean on him, putting your face on his shoulder. With a soft laugh, he envelops you with his arms, holding you tight against his body. “Are we good now? Am I out of the dog house?”

“Yes,” you laugh.

“Good,” he hums. “Because I missed you. I always miss you.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss on top of your head. Holding you against his body, he lies down on the bed on his back, dragging you with him. Half of your body lays on top of him as you get comfortable, placing your head on his chest and listening to his rhythmic heartbeat, your fingers mindlessly tracing the subtle patterns on his sweater. 

“Wonwoo?” You call him softly.

“Hm?”

“I think we should tell Chairman Jeon about us.”

Silence follows. You remove your head to look at your boyfriend’s face. He observes you inquisitively as if trying to decode the inner workings of your mind. 

“Are you sure?” He asks quietly.

You nod, propping your body on your elbows so that you can look at him. “Before my vacation, he called me to his office for a chat. He asked me if I knew who was the girl you are interested in. I lied and said no, which did not feel good. He seemed open to meeting her you know. I think we should go see him.”

Wonwoo continues looking at you silently. “What are you thinking?” You whisper, slightly tense.

“I just…am surprised, I guess. I mean, I have no problem with us meeting him but I don’t want to pressure you. I know it might be tough and uncomfortable for you since you have a professional relationship with him. But if you really want to, then let’s go see him on Monday.”

“Are you uncomfortable with the idea?”

“No.” He ponders for a moment. “I just don’t care enough. I won’t exactly ask for his blessings, you know. We don’t have a relationship like that. So don’t worry too much about what he will think of you because, at the end of the day, it won’t matter. I will date you, whether he likes it or not.”

“He might be disappointed.” You whisper softly, your hand absent mindedly reaching to his throat to trace his adam’s apple. “Compared to Yuna, you know. That match is profitable in so many ways.”

“Love is not about profit,” Wonwoo replies, his voice quiet and serious. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter what he thinks. Come here.” He pulls you in for a hug, your body wrapping around his while your head remains nestled against his throat, breathing in his addictive scent. You lay like that for a while basking in the peaceful silence and each other's warmth, his fingers drawing soothing on your back.

“Did you have dinner?” He asks softly. With a negative shake of your head, you look at his face, studying his stunning features up close. Without much of a thought, you press a kiss to his jaw, slowly trailing it to his lips. His soft lips meet yours for a chaste sweet kiss that gradually turns into a passionate, fiery one.

Wonwoo shifts, his body pressing yours flat on the bed as he comes on top, craning your neck higher to gain better access to your mouth. He kisses you like a starved man, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth and you return the kiss with equal fervour, your hands tightly clinging onto his sweater, tugging on it, twisting the fabric in your grip as you lose yourself in his touch.

“Fuck,” Wonwoo inhales sharply, breaking apart from you. His eyes are glassy, illuminated by desire and his lips are bright red and swollen, a clear evidence of your passion. “Fuck, if we keep going, I cannot hold myself back.”

“Then don’t.” You whisper, looking up at him eagerly while licking your swollen lips. Wonwoo closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “No, I…I didn’t come here for this, fuck. I don’t want you to think that I’m—”

You shush him with a quick, soft kiss on his lips.

“We agreed to go on my pace, right? I want this Wonwoo, I promise.” You smile at him. Wonwoo hesitates, staring at you intensely and you see his eyes glance at your lips and his jaw harden. Then, with a soft, dejected sigh, he leans down and kisses you. He is softer and slower this time but there is determination in his every move, his hands going all over your body in a passionate, devoted caress.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, looking into your eyes lovingly and in that moment, the pure adoration in his voice makes you truly feel beautiful. Beautiful and loved. You break into a shy but giddy smile, your hands working on unbuttoning the top two buttons of his sweater. Your movements are not rushed and Wonwoo is patient, simply observing you with adoration as you finish your task. Then, he sits up and takes off the sweater in a smooth motion.

Your eyes feast on every delicious inch of his naked skin, every contour of his muscles, scouring all over his chiseled body. It has been a long time since you saw him naked and you unashamedly cherish the visual in front of you, taking your time.

“May I?” Wonwoo asks softly, pointing to the hem of your sweater. With a smile you nod and he pulls it off, revealing your bare torso. Your nipples harden and your skin breaks into goosebumps because of the slight chill. Wonwoo immediately wraps his body around yours, hugging you tight and pressing kisses all over your neck and shoulders. He takes his time, kissing, sucking and marking your flesh while his hands work on taking off your bottoms.

"Do you know how mesmerizing you are?" He whispers, his thumb stroking your cheek with utmost tenderness as he flings away the last bit of clothing from your body. You lean into his touch, eyes falling closed at the contact as a soft sigh escapes your lips. He is looking at you like you are his entire world, like you are the only thing keeping him alive and it creates a foreign sense of desire in your belly, one you have never felt before.

"Lean back," his voice is a quiet command that you follow instantly, resting your back against the headboard and letting him sit comfortably. Not breaking eye contact with you, Wonwoo slowly spreads your legs wide. You watch with bated breath and a squeak leaves your mouth when he pushes his index finger inside you, slipping in easily due to your wetness. He makes a noise, a deep throaty groan as his digit finds home inside you. 

"Fuck, you're so wet," he murmurs as he inserts another finger and then another before curling them inside you.

"God— Wonwoo" You hiss at the pleasurable intrusion, grabbing the nearby pillow as your hips lift off the mattress. Your reaction makes him grunt as he fastens his pace and you feel your legs tremble, making you think that you are going to come already. Your core tightens around his fingers as more wetness leaks from you, only amplified when he brushes his thumb against your clit. Wonwoo devotes all his attention to your face, watching your expressions with a close, fascinated eye. “Close?” He whispers, his voice deep and scratchy. 

You nod your head aggressively, eyes screwed shut and your hips chasing his fingers in their own tandem. You climb higher and higher to your release, tingles shooting all through your body, making your legs shake. You open your eyes to see Wonwoo’s fingers still moving inside you while he shifts his position, making himself comfortable between your legs and leaning down.

“Wonwoo,” you croak, flushed with desire. 

“Shh,” he shushes you, slowing the movements of his fingers. “Let me taste you, hmm? I want you to cum on my face.” He murmurs, lips hovering over your thighs, the touch of his warm breath giving you goosebumps. The low gravel of his voice paired with the way he keeps looking at you from between your thighs makes you swallow thickly before resting your head back against the headboard, a shuddering breath leaving your lips as you feel your heart pound faster than ever.. 

The next moment you feel him flick your clit with his tongue and your entire body jolts, a long drawn out moan rushing past your mouth.

Fuck, you just might die.

Your body writhes while he holds your thighs open in a strong grip, incoherent gasps and curses of pleasure falling from your lips. Wonwoo is a man starved as he eats you out mercilessly, alternating between slow and fast licks, his tongue going deep inside your most intimate parts. You can't remain still, tears of pleasure stinging your eyes as your body shakes and pleas fall from your lips.

“Wonwoo, please… I need to come.”

“You want to come, sweetheart?” His voice comes out muffled. “Then come for me.” 

His words have your toes curling as he gives a harsh suck to your clit and in an instant, you go off like a firework. The heated coil in your belly snaps as your body twitches, sending you headfirst into an orgasm so good, so deep, tears drip down your eyes. All through it, Wonwoo keeps sucking your pussy, almost making you numb before stopping with a final kiss on your pussy and sitting back.

His lips glisten with your release as he sits on his knees, a cocky smile on his lips.

“You taste addictive, my love.” He murmurs, leaning forward to press soft, tantalising kisses on your jaw and down your throat. A satisfied hum falls from your lips as you close your eyes and savour his kisses, your body still reeling from that mind blowing orgasm.

His lips find yours again and your mouth reconnect in an embrace of passion, his tongue poking in your mouth as you taste yourself. One of his hands moves down amidst the kiss and you realize he's taking off his pants. With a soft groan, he breaks the kiss and quickly stands up to kick his boxers and pants down his legs. 

With your heartbeat still echoing in your ears, you admire him in his nakedness in the softly lit room, drinking every glorious inch of him. You can't stray your eyes from his cock, hard and leaking as you gulp and press your thighs together, feeling desire pool between your legs all over again.

Wonwoo crawls back into the bed, his eyes lit with carnal hunger as he makes himself comfortable on top of you, resting his weight on his elbows. “You ready for me?”

“Yes, please.” You almost whimper. “I need you so bad, Wonwoo. Just fuck me.”

He smiles. “As you wish.” He lines himself up and in the next moment, you feel his tip prodding at your core. He slides in easily, almost embarrassingly easy as your sopping cunt welcomes him with wide open arms. A low groan escapes from his throat as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, cursing under his breath The sound makes you clench around him which makes him curse again.

“Fuck, you are so tight, sweetheart. I missed you. I missed being inside you like this, fuck.”

You can only respond in an incoherent hum as he starts moving inside you, making you throw your head back and let out a loud moan. He raises his head to look at you and your eyes meet, making everything even more intense and intimate. The look in his eyes is ever captivating, enamoured yet full of heated desire as he thrusts in and out of you tirelessly, hitting that sensitive spot inside you perfectly each time.

“You're going to be the death of me.” He whispers, his mouth working on your jaw, moving down to your throat and sucking harshly on the soft flesh, making you shudder in pleasure. “Wonwoo!” You cry. “Fuck—”

“Where do you want me to cum, sweetheart?” He hums, trailing his lips back up to your mouth. “Inside me,” you reply immediately, every other thought and worry slipping out of your mind as you find yourself lost in his touch.

“Okay,” Wonwoo grunts, slightly increasing his pace. You pant heavily, clutching onto his back as he drives deep into you, his hands holding your waist in a bruising grip. “Gonna fill you up then, then. Make you mine all over again.” He promises, his eyes trained on your face like he is mesmerized by it as he delivers one particular thrust that has you arching off the bed and seeing stars. Each touch makes you feel like a goddess, like Wonwoo is a desperate devotee worshipping you at your altar which is your body. His pace is unforgiving, maddening, yet the look in his eyes is something new and intimate that turns this act into something so much more real, something that tugs at your heartstrings and makes you feel whole in an overwhelming way.

Then there is a soft touch on your swollen clit and a quiet command from him which has fireworks exploding all throughout your body. You cry out from the intense flood of pleasure as white spots dance in your vision, your hands twisting the fabric of the bedsheet so hard it would be no surprise if they tore. 

The next moment you feel Wonwoo release inside you with a deep groan and the feeling of his warm cum coating your insides gives your body another round of shivers as you almost blank out. Your body twitches and shivers as you feel numb for a few moments, your brain covered in a deep fog of mind numbing pleasure.

“You okay?” Wonwoo’s soft voice slowly brings you back to your senses and you smile with your eyes half closed. ‘Mhmm,” you mumble, leaning closer to him as he wraps an arm around you, rubbing your shoulders soothingly. You hum, eyes easily falling closed in the comfort and safety of his body.

“Hold on.” He whispers. “Let me clean you up, hm?”

You mutter complaints when he leaves your side to go to the bathroom. By the time he returns, you have drifted off with a smile still lingering on your face.

—

Your heels click on the hard floor as you walk down the hall to Chairman Jeon’s office. Despite resigning from his post, he often spends his mornings at his old office room, reading newspapers or idly staring at the city skyline from his window. It is convenient for you and Wonwoo because it is just nine o’clock and the first thing you have decided to do today is visit him and get it done with. 

Wonwoo walks in front of you, his steps quick and determined. Initially, he asked you to hold his hand while you showed up to meet Chairman Jeon but you refused. 

It felt improper to do. This is your workplace after all.

Wonwoo comes to a halt right in front of the door, his hand resting on the handle when he turns his head back to look at you. You give him a nod and a shaky smile and he returns it, bright and reassuring, his eyes silently cheering you on.

Then, without bothering to knock, Wonwoo pushes the door open and marches in.

You wait for a couple of seconds, taking a deep breath and preparing yourself before you follow him in. Chairman Jeon is surprised to see Wonwoo and even shocked to see you step in.

“I was not expecting to see you,” his tone is slightly flat and directed at Wonwoo, you realize. “Father,” Wonwoo murmurs as a greeting, looking rather bored. You watch the exchange awkwardly before the Chairman glances at you. “Ah, Miss ____. I was not expecting you either but what a pleasant surprise. I was going to ask you to come in for a chat soon. How was your vacation?”

“It was great, sir.” You reply, more politely and humbly than ever before.

“Good, good.” he nods. “What brings you here this early?” He pauses for a second, his eyes averting to his son. “Don’t tell me he got into any trouble?”

“Oh! No, sir, not at all.” You rush to clarify, looking helplessly at Wonwoo. He catches your gaze and takes the lead. “I’m here to talk to you,” he announces. “About something important.” 

A pause. “You wanted to know who I’m seeing, right?”

The chairman nods. Suddenly his eyes flash bright and he looks at you with excitement. “Did you finally manage to convince him to share it with me? I knew you could do it!”

Oh god. You cringe inwardly, an awkward yet terrified smile plastered on your face.

“No, father, please—” Wonwoo sighs, rubbing his forehead. He slumps down on the empty couch in front of Chairman Jeon and motions you to sit next to him. You tentatively do so.

“You wanted to see her. Here she is.” Wonwoo states matter of factly, looking at his father dead in the eyes like he is talking about the weather. 

Chairman Jeon blinks at his son, evidently confused. Then he glances at you and after a moment's pause, his eyes widen and his lips part slightly.

Well, the cat is out of the bag now.

Wonwoo has the grace to give his father a few moments to digest the information before he continues. “Out of respect for you, she wanted to do this. Now the thing is father…” Wonwoo pauses, putting his elbows on his knees to interlock his fingers and lean closer, “I love her.”

The confession has your heart skipping not one but multiple beats as your head whips towards him, absolutely stunned. 

He is dead serious. 

He continues, looking at his father in the eye, “She is the one for me so I’m sure now you get why I was so against your matchmaking. More importantly, I need you to know that I’m not here to ask your permission or blessings. I will continue to see her, whether you like it or not. There is that.”

You have the urge to put your head in your hands, maybe even scream at Wonwoo. Could he not have been slightly nicer?

The chairman continues to stare at his son impassively for long, suffocating moments. The two seem to have engaged in a staring contest, their gaze loaded with challenge as the air in the room thickens up with tension. You start to think they have forgotten about your presence in the room when finally, Chairman Jeon turns his glance to you.

“Could you please excuse us, Miss ___?” His voice is normal, devoid of any indication of pleasure or lack thereof. “I need to speak to my son in private.” The latter words come out sharper as his gaze refocuses on Wonwoo.

You immediately stand up. “Yes sir, of course.” You murmur and turn around. Your eyes lock with Wonwoo’s and you scowl at him but he just smiles. “I’ll see you later.”

You give him a stiff nod and rush out the door to find Secretary Yu standing right outside.

“Miss ___.” He greets in his regular monotone voice.

“Secretary Yu,” your words come out slightly breathy due to your shock. You are about to pretend nothing happened and walk away but a question pops in your head and you glance back at him.

“Did you know?” You ask.

He remains silent, his face stoic and his gaze boring at you but he seems to have understood what you are referring to. Finally, he replies. “I had a guess.”

“Why did you not tell Chairman Jeon?”

“Because I did not have evidence. And to be honest, knowing CEO Jeon, I assumed he was not serious about you. I am surprised to learn otherwise.” Neither his face nor his tone indicates any surprise. You are not even sure if you detect approval or dismay in his words. As always, he is unreadable and you feel slightly frustrated.

“I see.” You reply, your tone flat. Your feet continue down the hallway, your footsteps echoing through the narrow chamber. Secretary Yu calls your name, forcing you to stop and turn around.

“Take it easy.”

You nod and continue walking.

—

Originally, today was supposed to be your first day at Jeon Industries but the plan changed due to some last minute shifts. You still have one more case to wrap up for your firm so you are set to start at Jeon Industries from tomorrow. Now, you are more than grateful for this delay because staying inside the building was suffocating. You could not have gotten any work done, knowing Chairman Jeon was right down the hallway, talking to Wonwoo and deciding your fate. 

As soon as you are out of the building, you breathe a sigh of relief and hail a cab to meet up with your last client from your previous workplace. Ten minutes into the car ride, your phone rings and you know it is Wonwoo. You pick up immediately.

“Hi.” You whisper, your voice slightly breathy, your heart thudding loudly in your chest.

“Hey,” Wonwoo’s soft voice comes through the speaker. “Are you on your way to meet your client?”

“Yes.” You reply quickly. “How was it, Wonwoo? Does he hate me?”

You hear your boyfriend laugh, leaving you perplexed. “No actually. He hates me but that’s old news.” “Gosh, Wonwoo—” You huff, raking a hand through your hair out of frustration. “Will you just tell me what he told you?” “Alright, alright. He just asked me if I knew what I was doing and if I could really make this work with you.”

“Huh?”

“Trust me, I was surprised too.” He chuckles. “He was pretty tame about it. If anything, he seemed to be worried for you. He flat out told me he thinks I don’t have the balls to keep a girl like you around. He said I would blow it which, to be fair, I did once so he’s not wrong about that.”

You are stunned to silence.

“Really? Are you sure you’re not kidding, Wonwoo?”

“Yes, sweetheart, I’m sure. You can relax now. You had nothing much to worry about in the first place. He has no reason to dislike you and even if he did, it would not have mattered.”

You let out a loud breath of relief, one you feel like you have holding all morning. “Well,” you smile even though he cannot see it. “I am relieved.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Should we meet up tonight? I am heading out right now to visit our factories and I think my work there will take up the day.”

“I have plans with Rina tonight.” You reply apologetically.

“Ah, that’s alright. Have fun. I will see you tomorrow at the office anyway.”

“Mhmm.” You bite your lip, hesitating to ask the question bugging your mind.

“I know you have something you want to tell me.” Wonwoo’s voice is playful and you cannot help but giggle out loud. “How did you know?”

He laughs and you imagine his cocky smirk. “I just do. You’re my girlfriend, after all. Now spill.”

You take a deep breath in. “Do you love me?”

“What kind of a question is that?”

“No… it's just that, earlier, you said that you loved me. Do you really?”

“Of course I do.” His voice is soft, almost pleading. 

A broad smile kisses your lips. “I see. I just wanted to make sure. I mean…you never said it to my face before.”

“I…I didn’t because—” he stutters, “well, I did not want to put pressure on you. We agreed to take it slow this time and I thought it might be…I don’t know…I’m sorry. I was so passionate in there and it just came out…” He trails off nervously. 

“Wonwoo?” You call softly.

“Yes?”

“I love you too.”

You can practically hear him break into a smile. “Really?” He asks, his pitch higher than usual, a clear sign he’s excited. You grin, shaking your head up and down. “Really.”

His deep, melodic laughter floats through and you cannot help but join in. Briefly, you wonder what the cab driver may think of you, laughing like this with your phone pressed to your ear but you’re too in love to care.

“Thank you.” Wonwoo finally says, his voice soft yet serious. “It…it took me losing you to realize how much I love you. At first, I was mad, to be honest. I have never been rejected by a girl before. But then as days passed, a sinking feeling swallowed me up whole. I realized I love you and I was an asshole to you. I became sure of it when I saw you with Jeonghan and for many days, I thought I lost you for good. God, I don’t want to feel like that ever again.” He ends with a deep sigh, his words so raw they penetrate deep into your heart. 

You open your mouth to assure him but he continues. “I’m sorry it took me losing you to love you but still, I’m glad. I’m glad and I’m happy that you gave me another chance. I love you, ___. I am so happy I get to love you.”

God have mercy. Tears sting your eyes and you look up, fanning your face.

“Wow, Jeon Wonwoo,” you try to sound playful but your voice comes out hoarse, choked with emotions. “I was not expecting this. Especially over the phone.”

His soft laughter floats through. “I know right, I wasn’t either. I just…felt like telling you, I guess.”

“Well, thank you. I love it when you are honest with me.”

“Then I will try to be more honest with you from now on.” He pauses and then sighs. “Sweetheart, I’m getting a call. I’ll call you tonight?”

“Yes, tonight.” You reply with a smile.

—

The breakfast club is packed, full of elderly people—retired rich businessmen and their wives, to be exact—who gossip, play golf, eat, and smoke in the early morning on a Tuesday while the rest of the world is on their way to work. 

You feel out of your depth here and you would have never come to a place like this had it not been for Chairman Jeon’s instructions.

Last night after you got back from dinner with Rina, you saw the text Chairman Jeon sent you. There was an address below which he wrote:

Meet me here tomorrow at 8.30 am.

Your heart stopped beating immediately and shriveled up in your chest as the reality of the situation hit you. The other shoe had finally dropped and you spent the entire night feeling restless and worrying out of your mind. You lied to Wonwoo to avoid talking to him, saying you felt very sleepy. Instead, you spent the majority of your night pacing back and forth in your room, conjuring up a thousand different ways this meeting could go.

Now, you are here, amidst the chatter of rich people, waiting for your fate to be decided.

With a deep breath, you square your shoulders and put your best game face on as you walk through the large dining space enclosed in a glass building right next to the huge golf field. You continue straight down until you reach the end of the room and find Chairman Jeon at a table, flipping through a newspaper. 

Before your mind starts spiraling you head towards him.

“Good morning, Chairman.”

He looks up from his newspaper and smiles. “Ah, you’re just on time! Sit.” He motions to the empty space opposite him and you do so diligently. A waitress comes to your table, serving you a cup of earl grey tea and refilling the Chairman’s empty cup.

“Thank you for taking the trouble to come see me before your work.” He says, folding the newspaper and putting it on the table, next to his teacup.

“No trouble, sir.” You murmur humbly. 

“Try the tea while it's hot.” He ushers you to take a sip. “It is very good.”

You do so, taking small sips of your tea and observing him over the rim of the cup. He is dressed in a tracksuit and pants, the most informal you have ever seen him. He remains silent, simply sipping his tea and glancing outside the floor to ceiling windows of the breakfast area and out into the golf field.

Your mind starts running rampant.

He is here to tell you off right? You have seen it in dramas; he will hand you a stack of money and tell you to fuck off and leave his son alone. If he is more pissed, he might splatter that tea all over you. Or worse, what if he tells you that you are fired from Jeon Industries? Oh my god, how embarrassing it would be. What would you say to your colleagues?

Oh God help me.

Despite the downward spiral of your brain, you take notice of one thing. Chairman Jeon’s gaze is still trained outside the window, the look in his eyes tender and full of longing. Curious, you follow his line of sight and spot a group of people on the golf field. An elderly man dressed in a tracksuit, holding a golf stick while talking animatedly to an elderly woman, presumably his wife, dressed like him. Beside them stands a younger girl, smiling at whatever he says while carrying a toddler. The old man interacts with the child, playing with him before taking him in his arms and swinging him around. It looks like they are a family, the grandparents bonding with their grandchild, and then you understand the look in the Chairman’s eyes.

As if he can hear your thoughts, he suddenly says, “You know, all my life all I did was work. My father founded this company and it was upon me to bring us name and fame. From my twenties all I knew was work and outside of it, nothing existed. Not even my wife and my son who needed me.” He pauses, a quiet heavy sigh falling from his lips. His eyes, however, remain trained on the family outside.

“I have known nothing but my work so maybe that’s why I still show up at the office even though I am retired, like yesterday. I am trying to build a life outside of work now but that ship has sailed, no?” he juts his chin to the family. “I have no one to spend time with, no one to call family. Not a wife who will spend the rest of my time with me. Not even a handful of good friends. My business mindset made me burn the bridges I built and I lost the few friends I had. Instead, I made enemies. I made my company great and I made enough people jealous of who I am and what I achieved. But now that those days are no more and I am just a retired old man, it is hard being here alone when everyone my age is here to spend time with their family and friends.”

Heavy silence hangs in the air.

You continue looking at Chairman Jeon, your heart heavy with the weight of his words. He has not been a good father or a good husband, you know that from Wonwoo and others. He, however, has been a good boss and a good leader for the company. You want to voice out those words to improve the mood but there is a lump in your throat that leaves you voiceless, making it hard for you to utter a word of reassurance. 

He finally casts his eyes at you. “When he told me it was you I was very surprised. I took the entire day processing this information.”

You sit straighter and nod understandingly. “I am very sorry for lying to you, sir. It really was not my intention. Plus, I wasn’t seeing Wonwoo at that time. We…we were on a break, I guess.”

The chairman sips his tea, looking at you inquisitively. “It will not be wrong of me to assume that my son did something wrong, will it?”

You press your lips together and tuck your chin to your neck, looking at him sheepishly over your glasses.

He laughs, the sound coming out as half a scoff. “This is what worries me. I think Wonwoo is incapable of holding on to a woman like you.”

There is a pause and you decide to break it. “Wonwoo is a good man, sir. He has changed a lot since the first time I met him. I trust him now. I trust his capabilities and his decisions.”

“He definitely has changed,” he murmurs, taking another sip. “I still am worried. A father’s concern I suppose.” He pauses, glancing outside the window for a moment. 

“You are one of my most valuable employees, Miss ___. You’re an asset to the company and everyone agrees on this. You have handled all issues of my son with the utmost expertise and you have been a stellar employee. It’s just that…”

What? I’m not good enough to be your potential daughter-in-law? The chairman sighs, “I don’t trust my son. If this relationship fizzles out then you cannot just cut yourself off, can you? You will still be an employee here. And if you decide to leave…”

What? Is he worried that you will spill all the details, all the private information to someone else?

“Sir,” You begin, your voice steady and confident. “If you are worried about my loyalty then please know that it will not waver. Whatever the outcome of my relationship with Wonwoo is, I will continue to be an employee here. I assure you that my— our professional life will be separate from our personal one.”

Chairman Jeon regards you silently for a long while as if pondering your words before nodding his head thoughtfully. Then, he smiles. “You know, I have more faith in you than my own son. You have proven yourself capable many times…something that my son has yet to do.” His gaze in his eyes becomes unfocused as you see his mind trail off somewhere else. “Sometimes I wonder whether it was a good idea to make him the CEO so quickly.”

“Sir,” you begin carefully. “He is still young and very new to this entire thing. Give him some time to prove himself. Let him face the challenges so that he can overcome them by himself. I have faith in him, sir, and I think you should too. We need to cheer him on so he does not question himself.” You abruptly stop, your face heating up at the passion and the borderline annoyance in your tone. Too shy to meet his eyes, you hastily fix your glasses a take a sip of your tea to busy yourself.

Chairman Jeon who has been watching you rather fascinatedly breaks into an amused smile. “Hm, you are quite right.” He hums, his sharp eyes, so much like Wonwoo’s, set intensely on you. “Well then, I suppose I can only wish you well on your new journey. With your work and your relationship.”

“Thank you, sir.” You smile gratefully, your heart finally at ease and free of weight. He nods, glancing at his watch. “I have kept you for too long already. You will be late for office on your first day.” “It’s alright, sir.” You reply, truly meaning it. Sliding your bag over your shoulder you stand up. “It was lovely to spend time with you.”

“Go on now. I’ll see you around.” He ushers you away with his hands. You nod respectfully and take your leave. Taking only three steps away from the table, you stop and turn around, unable to hold back the words brewing in your mind.

“Sir?”

“Hm?” He glances up.

“You still have a family, you know. You still have Wonwoo.” You hold his gaze, speaking the words slowly and carefully. He remains mute, watching you with a gaze clouded by a thick haze. Of what, you don’t know.

Finally, he nods, a small, subtle shake of his head. With that, the corners of his lips upturn slightly, just ever so slightly but it is a smile nevertheless.

You smile back and walk away.

—

You head to Wonwoo’s office first thing after parking your car in the garage. 

Your heels click against the shiny floor as you walk down the hallway, stopping in front of Secretary Yu’s office. “Is Wo— CEO Jeon in?”

He nods, looking at you with a subtle frown. “Thanks.” You chirp and rush towards his room, entering after a quick knock. 

Wonwoo sits behind his desk, focused on his computer. The sound of the door opening makes him look up and surprise flutters across his face.

“Hey there, sweetheart.” He grins, rolling his chair back to stand up. “Came to see me first thing in the morning?” You only smile and hurry towards him, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on his solid chest, a content sigh falling from your lips. “I just met your dad.” You mumble.

You feel him become tense. Gently holding your shoulders, he pries you from his body and looks at you with concern. “What? Why? Did he say something to you?”

You shake his head with a smile. “No. It was just a chat. He was very lovely. I think he approves of me.”

Wonwoo watches you, the concern on his face melting away. A bemused smile kisses his lips. “Is that why you are so happy?”

You nod with a smile and Wonwoo laughs softly. 

“You know,’’ you murmur thoughtfully. “Your father is quite nice after all.” He arches an amused brow.

You smile. “I’m just saying. You should give him another chance.”

“Wow. My girl is quite optimistic today, isn’t she?” 

You giggle, hugging him again. “I love you.” The words fall from your lips easily and naturally, like you have spoken them your entire life. “Let’s be happy together.”

You feel Wonwoo’s body relax, his hands coming to rest on the crown of your head, his fingers going through your hair. He presses a kiss on the top of your head and hugs you tighter. “We will be. I promise.”

Your chin rests right below his collarbone, your eyes peeking at his face with a doe eyed look. He kisses your lips, soft and sweet. “I love you. Always.” He whispers.

I love you.

That’s it. That’s the verdict. 

for a special epilogue click here and take a look at their future!

© startlightxsvt 2025 | All Rights Reserved. Do not copy, translate, adapt, or repurpose any of my works.

A/N: so, that is the end of our journey! when I tell you writing this was fun, I really mean it, esp this final part. i had a blast with this and i hope it was equally good for you guys. i am really looking forward to hear what you all thought of this entire series so please drop your thoughts in my ask box. as always like and share and have a lovely day!

on a separate note, i will not upload anything for the next month or so as i'm working on a huge vernon fic which i am VERY excited to share with you all. the teaser should come out in late feb/early march but nothing is set yet. still, i hope y'all anticipate it <33