#i hope he never lets the waves go for good

[babeyun]

falling alone ✩ l.hs [m]

⇢ part of the modus operandi series! synopsis: cold cases were heeseung’s specialty, and he cracked every single one. cold hearts were your specialty, and you have yet to make a single chip in your husband’s. genre: established relationship au ; strained lovers. angst, fluff, smut pairing: lieutenant!lee heeseung x therapist!housewife!reader (i love plot twists) word count: 39.5k rating: 18+. minors please do not interact. warnings: for realism purposes, everyone is aged up (22-29 ; not my favorite but it is what it is.) strained marriage/relationship dynamics, workaholic dynamics, toxic relationship dynamics that are not meant to be romanticized. talks of therapy, food mentions, birth control mention, talks of having a family. detailed descriptions of disappearances, missing persons, etc. y/n feels neglected (girl STAND UP). sex as a temporary fix, swearing, alcohol, smoking. unrequited love, lots of pining on both ends. smut warnings: multiple scenes (two and a half...just read it), heeseung has a thing for y/n in business attire, petnames (baby, babe, princess, etc.,) unexplored daddy kink, heavy petting, frottage, slight body worship (m&f.rec.) nipple play, light spanking, oral (m&f. rec), squirting, lots of pillowtalk, marking, dom/sub dynamics, hair pulling, slight degrading/praise, handholding during sex (because i'm soft so what), switch!hee x switch!yn, unprotected sex (don't do this), doggy, missionary (not a babeyun fic if it's not missionary and body worship, i fear) creampie (i hate this word so bad.) i think that's it! what to listen to: falling - harry styles ; tu falta de querer - mon laferte ; seasons - dawn, gemini ; stardust - ben webster ; my foolish heart - bill evans trio ; no song without you - honne ; take me - miso ; say - keshi ; may i have this dance - francis & the lights ; unchained melody - the righteous brothers ; can't take my eyes off you - frankie valli ; can this morning never end - davin kingston ; too good - christian kuria ; u send me swingin' - mint condition ; you and me - lifehouse. author's note: it's finally fucking here, SEVEN MONTHS later. i cannot believe my life took such a turn that my original timeline of getting these all out back out to back turned into me ghosting the internet. this being said, i really hope you guys enjoy the push and pull that are heeseung and y/n in this. they're insane but they're in love and that's all that matters. special thanks to my dearest @enhaven for all her encouragement and kind words. star dividers by @/saradika here on tumblr!

Friday, 9:23PM.

 "Late night?" Your voice has always been a comfort to him. The way you cooked dinner every night, the way you washed his hair for him, the way you laid in bed with him – it was all comforting. Your soft eyes, eyes that hadn't seen an inch of a crime scene. Your gentle hands, hands that would never cock a gun and aim to kill.

You were home to him, and he hated that he couldn't leave his work at the precinct. He always brought it with him, anywhere he went…anywhere you were.

"Not really. Caught a session with Dr. Bahng, I'm sorry about dinner." He loosens his tie, trying to ignore the way your eyes follow his fingers. He takes his wedding ring off for work – insisting it snags on the gloves when gathering evidence, that he never wants to sully it with such grime. "How was your night?" Your sigh may be inward, but his eyes catch everything. Every frustrated twitch of your brows, the way your nose crinkles at the half-assed apology. Your eyes linger on the linoleum floor, and he fights the urge to pull you into his arms. He fights the urge to show any weakness to your feelings, he can't let go of work. He has to be strong, he has to be coarse, he has to be cold.

"It was…fine." You wave him off, moving to take the full plates off the table. Only then does Heeseung notice that you're still in your jeans, your white top neatly tucked into them. Your feet are clad in fresh socks, almost as if you were about to go out when he arrived. His eyes scan you as you move around, pulling his tie completely off and bunching it into his pocket. "Are you going out with your friends?" You don't reply as you scrape the cold food into the trash can, and he focuses on the sound of your bracelet lightly clinking with the handle of the fork. Your shoulders sag, soft curls of your hair sweeping over your face as you move to place the dishes in the sink. He sighs, before his legs move him behind you. "Why are you upset, honey?" "I'm not, I'm not upset." You scoff, turning the tap to hot when you feel Heeseung's hands ghost over your waist. You knew better than to attempt to hide anything from him, especially with the way his brain was literally trained to analyze your every movement. His lips press softly to your cheek as his fingers untuck your top, "I know you better than that." You're silent as his fingertips trace the soft skin of your stomach, his chin resting on your shoulder. He's going to wait until you decide you want to talk, despite knowing it will be the same argument you have every single week.

The same argument that always ends up unresolved as you kiss in your bed, sheets tangled between your bodies. It's enough to hold off on actually talking about it, it's enough to semi-satisfy the lack of attention you got from him during the week. It wasn't enough to feed his unvoiced, almost insatiable hunger for you, and how he wished he could just douse you in his love and affection until the sun rose. It wasn't nearly enough, because he'd still have to pry himself from the comfort of your warm embrace to step foot in the precinct and inhale the stench of evil in the world.

He felt awful, really. That he could never truly show you how much he loved you, how emotionally constipated his job made him…how his sessions with Dr. Bahng were no longer of much help. "Leave work at work, Lieutenant. You have the love of your life waiting for you at home." He had it memorized at this point.

"It's always the same thing, don't worry about it." You turn the tap off, feeling the guilt about wasting water seeping into your stomach. You weren't going to wash the dishes, you knew you weren't. You just wanted to lay down in bed with your husband, basking in the few minutes of attention he'd be able to give you before falling asleep. 

"Baby." You wince at the pet name, one so foreign on his lips. One you so rarely heard, long lost in your college memories. You grimace as you turn in his hold, his hands now resting on your hips. "Don't baby me, Heeseung." "Don't Heeseung me, Y/N. I know something is bothering you, and whether it's tonight, tomorrow, or next week – I'm not letting you go to bed like this." He looks at you through tousled locks, his eyes speaking for him. Just talk to me.

You shake your head in subtle disbelief, attempting to push past him when he pins you against the counter gently. "Let me go, Heeseung." "Not until you tell me what's going on." His voice is harsh, one he also rarely uses with you. Heeseung was always gentle, soft-spoken. "I've been at work all day, dealing with shit I can barely stomach. I just want to come home and spend time with you, what's wrong?" He's starting to whine, and it does nothing but make your eyes sting with tears.

"I just want to spend time with you, without having to beg you for it." You breathe out, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid his gaze. "You remember everything, Hee. I know you had to remember that tonight is date night." Sighing, you peel your eyes open to a guilty husband watching you with his own tired ones.

"I'm sorry, honey. It really did slip my mind. Let me…let me just take a shower and we can go have a night on the town, okay?" He starts to walk away, fingers pulling at the buttons of his shirt when you clear your throat. "It's fine, Heeseung. Let's just go to bed."

"No, let me fix this. We haven't had dinner, and we haven't spent time together in weeks." He slips his dress shirt off as he leaves your line of vision, and you just slump against the counter. He was right, and you hated that you knew he was. Heeseung was always this way, though, shouldn't you be used to it by now?

Yes, he was gentle and soft-spoken, with a touch of dirty humor and thoughtfulness that always made your heart race a little faster. Your relationship was built on a lot of comfort and deep talks, ones that usually involved you unraveling yourself entirely just to get a taste of his own secrets. The two of you had met in college, about three days after the disappearance of his childhood best friend, Cha Soyoung.

Heeseung was even more cold and stoic, and wasn't interested in so much as even befriending you. He didn't really speak, which according to his friends, was unnatural. They wound up being close friends of yours as well, thanks to Park Sunghoon, and the seven of them all also ended up working at the same precinct. "Heeseung talks…a lot. Not as much as Jay, but he's just going through a hard time right now." Sunghoon said as he sipped his drink, carefully chewing the tapioca pearls as the two of you walked. "It's not everyday your best friend of twenty years goes missing, you know?"You had shrugged, not really understanding what it was like. Your parents had moved you around a lot as a kid, and it was hard to make friends until they finally settled when you got into your last year of high school. You had met Sunghoon there, but only met the rest of your friends through him that following summer – except Heeseung. He'd gone home with Soyoung for the summer, returning to Seoul for the fall semester at Decelis University with her and your other friends. You still never spoke, until now.

You and Sunghoon were swinging by his dorm to help pass out flyers.

"Hey, Hoon. Y/N." Heeseung spoke quietly as he opened the door, his eyes nearly swollen shut from crying for the past three days. Your jaw dropped as you looked at his face, not at all recognizing the boy in front of you. Sure, you'd only ever seen pictures of Heeseung but you knew enough to know that this…wasn't him. Neither you nor Sunghoon spoke as Heeseung moved for the two of you to follow him, shutting the door behind you.

"How are you feeling?" Sunghoon asked as he trashed his drink, your own now sweating on a coaster on Heeseung's coffee table as the man gathered things around his dorm. You stood awkwardly as you swung your backpack onto the couch, opening it for Heeseung to slide the flyers in when you saw him shake his head. 

"I don't feel much, actually." 

Sunghoon glanced at you, but your legs moved before you could think. You rounded the table to Heeseung, who looked at your extended arms and empathetic eyes with cold ones. He'd set down the papers in his hands, fingers splayed across them momentarily before turning back to you and awkwardly entering your embrace. Your fingers easily found the nape of his neck, and his rigid form quickly softened as he breathed shakily into your shoulder. "M'Sorry." He mumbled as you felt a few tears soak through your shirt, and you just shook your head. 

Sunghoon also wound up wrapping his arms around the two of you. Something about the way that Heeseung's fingers clawed at your sides, and the way he sobbed into your shirt made you wonder how long he'd needed someone. Someone to ease the knot in his stomach, someone to help him see that this was something that would be solved and everything would be okay again. Someone to help him hop along until Soyoung was found, and someone to leave when she inevitably took her place again.

That was nine years ago. You and Heeseung began dating a year after that happened, a couple of months after the anniversary of Soyoung's disappearance. The police stopped looking, ruling her case as a runaway. You and Heeseung never stopped searching – you frequently asked cafe owners if you could pin missing posters on their corkboards, and even went door to door every few evenings asking if anyone had seen Soyoung. 

Heeseung had made it to the side of the law, and frequently reviewed the case to see if he had missed anything. He never had – you had all hit a dead end. Everyone's hope began to dwindle, but Heeseung never let that sway him. He even asked the forensics department to make age-progression posters, and they did. You'd pinned those up, too.

He was strong willed, he was diligent, he was determined. You love Heeseung, you love the person he is…

…But you hate that he can't leave his work at work. You hate that you get a crumb of his affection every few nights, whether it's his lips pressed against your cheek after dinner or his teeth nipping at your clavicle while hovering above you in bed. You hate that you find yourself longing for him even more than you did in college, despite now having him in the deepest way – as your husband, the person who loves you. 

The man who shed a singular tear as he watched you walk down the aisle, the man who supported you when your career wasn't what you expected. The man who endlessly told you he loved you in ways that weren't so evident to the naked eye – like leaving the warm water for you and showering in the ice cold, leaving the last slice of cake for you, rubbing your feet while watching Law and Order with you on days he didn't work (read: on days you pried him out of the home office.)

Heeseung loves you, you know that. You just can't shake the feeling that it won't be for much longer.

"Tuck in your shirt."

His voice snaps you out of your trance, and you look up to see your husband now unrolling a pair of clean socks, speaking around a wide toothed comb between his teeth. He drapes the socks over the back of a chair, eyes glued to his reflection in the hallway mirror as he combs through his hair quickly. 

Rolling your eyes, you tuck in your shirt haphazardly as he parts his hair down the middle. "You can't go out with your hair wet, you'll get sick." You call as you make your way down to the bathroom, pulling open one of the cabinets to fish out your hair dryer. "I don't have time to dry my hair. In sickness and health, anyway." Heeseung yells down the hall, and you bite back your chuckle.

"But why make yourself sick? Sit, I'll dry it while you put on your socks." You untangle the cord, plugging it into the wall as Heeseung pouts. "The sound makes me sleepy! If I'm sleepy, we can't go out." He shakes his head, and you put a hand on your hip as you give him a pointed look. He sighs, tugging a chair towards you and plopping down.

"You're throwing a tantrum like a child. Mom, I don't want to wear my coat! Mom, I don't want my peas touching my mashed potato!" You mock his behavior, making him sulk further into the chair and creasing his shirt. "Sit up!"

He does, and watches you through the mirror as you carefully comb your fingers through his hair. He wonders why you forgive him so easily, why you do these things for him when he doesn't feel like he deserves it. The wasted dinner, the way you roll his socks after doing his laundry (that he insists he can do himself.) He wonders what he's done to make you love him so dearly.

"Where d'you wanna go? Olive You More? Thyme for Love?" His voice leaves the sulky attitude behind, as your fingers card through his damp hair, and you grimace. "Why are all our favorite restaurants so cheesy? It's disgusting." "Well, we could try that new one down by the river. Pasta La Vista, I think it's called." He taps his lips with his fingers, and you catch the glint of his gold wedding band snuggled around his left ring finger. You ignore the way your heart flutters, as you lightly smack his shoulder. "No more pun restaurants! We're not in college anymore." "Ah, but I love going to those places with you. I.." The words get caught in Heeseung's throat, as they always do. He always feels like he's saying it for the very first time, just like he did all those years ago in the middle of the woods. You got stuck in a blackberry bush, and it just slipped out.

"You..?" You ask, looking at him through the mirror. Your eyes are full of concern, a look he never stops seeing. It bothers him. "I love you." He mumbles shyly, looking away to pick at his cuticles. He doesn't see the gentle smile on your glossed lips, and feels your soft hair brush his neck as you lean to kiss his cheek. 

"Mmh, I would hope so." "Yah, say it back." He pouts as he turns to face you, and you can only smile wider before you place a chaste kiss on his lips. "I don't need to, you know who my heart calls home. Now, get up. We've got a delicious pasta dinner to inhale, and breadsticks to steal." He doesn't ask you to say it back again, only watching as you walk away with a skip in your step. He knows, he does. He knows you love him, he knows your heart calls him home. He knows you love him.

He's just worried it won't be for much longer.

Saturday, 10:32am.

"Good morning." Your voice is raspy with sleep, eyes still slightly shut as you whisper into his skin. It's a God-given miracle that he's still in bed next to you, instead of slipping out early like a college hookup. 

Unfortunately, that happened more often than not. "Have we always had such shitty curtains? I can't sleep with so much light." He groans, tugging your arm over his head as he moves to snuggle into your chest. His breathing softens as you pull him slightly closer, wrapping your arms fully around his head and shoulders. "Mmh, if you were still in bed by the time I woke up for the day, you'd know." "You know I can't be." He sighs, and you feel the ticklish sensation of his lips feathering over your clavicle. His teeth tug lightly at your necklace, one he gave you for your second anniversary, months after the wedding. He loves that you never take it off. 

"It's not a matter of if you can, it's a matter of if you want to." "Don't pull that, you know I do." He kisses your skin before burying his face into your neck. "I'd never leave this bed if it were up to me." His teeth are once more doing their oh-so routine nipping at the exposed skin of your shoulder, before you shift out of his reach. "We should get breakfast."

You turn onto your back, stretching your arms above your head with a soft yawn. Though blurred with fatigue, your eyes see Heeseung perfectly, his head resting lightly on your stomach. His fingers toy with the waistband of your underwear, thumb slightly slipping beneath to rub at the skin of your hip. Your tattoo peeks through, one Heeseung never lets you forget you have. His faded initials mock the both of you. "Or, counter offer: you can be my breakfast." 

You snort, propping yourself up your elbows to get a good look at the man now in your lap. He's pressing soft kisses around your navel, eyelashes fluttering slowly as his lips pepper around your warm skin. "Hee, you barely ate dinner."

"I've barely eaten you. I'm a man deprived, please?" His eyes finally peer up at you, and you scoff out a laugh, running a hand through your mussed curls. You shake your head as you tongue your cheek, allowing him to pull at the hem of your panties once more. "I'm not above begging, if that's what it takes. You know I'll do it." "Just take them off, you big baby. You're cheesy as shit, too." You roll your eyes as he grins, a playful bite to your outer thigh as he begins to move you around as he pleases. 

"Open." He kneels on the bed, knuckles rapping on your knees to part them. You can't help but roll your eyes again, but comply as he tugs down your underwear. It flies somewhere across the room, forgotten in a corner to gather dust, Heeseung completely unaware as he lies on his stomach.

"I've missed this." He sighs, before placing a chaste kiss on your inner thigh. "I miss you, most of all. I promise I'll be home earlier this week, baby." He doesn't give you a chance to respond as his tongue quickly finds home between your legs, softly licking at every inch he can reach. Your lip is tucked beneath your teeth, fingers grabbing at anything you can…

When his phone starts ringing. He groans into your skin, the vibrations making you shiver as disappointment takes over. He ignores the sound, choosing to pull you closer onto his face when you push his shoulder with your foot. "Just answer it, Hee." "I don't want to." His voice is muffled as his tongue collects your forming arousal, a soft moan from his throat as you squirm in his hold. "H-Hee, what if it's important?" "What if it's not? What could possibly be more important than you and I at this very moment?" His eyes are filled with a mix of annoyance and desire as he rests his cheek against your thigh. You hate the pitiful groan that escapes your lips as you reach for his phone, answering it for him. "Work." 

Sighing, he moves off the bed as he takes the call, motioning for you to stay as he speaks. "Go for Lee."

Complying, you simply become a jellyfish of a human, sprawled across your bed. You wonder why you answered the phone for him, why you pushed him to take the call. It bothers you that even now, you have begun prioritizing his work over your relationship, when you both promised each other that your love, affections and time for each other would never dwindle.

You can't say it has, though, at least for you. You love Heeseung, one could even say that distance has made your heart grow fonder. Not seeing him often has made you a bit more independent, and every time you find yourself eating dinner at the table alone, you're reminded of your mother. 

How she berated you for marrying for love and not stability, how she shamed you for abandoning the career that drained you of everything you had. You dislike how easy it was for her to get into your head, so much so that you'd spent all of yesterday applying for new jobs in your field, while waiting for Heeseung to get home – and hopefully have your regular date night.

Not that he was even around to have said date. Sure, he made it up to you��but at what cost?

As you begin to sink into your spiraling thoughts, Heeseung reappears in the doorway of your bedroom. He doesn't speak loud enough for you to hear as he beelines for the closet – a mumble of frustrations spilling from his lips as he rips a shirt off its hanger. Turning on your side, you cover your lower half with the blanket that's no longer warm before speaking to him. "Duty calls, huh?" "Yes." 

In silence, you watch as he buttons his shirt, the muted teal making his skin glow softly. He doesn't look you in the eyes as he revisits the closet, tugging on his favorite pair of brown slacks. A pair you made for him a few years ago, right after leaving your job – and you remember the way his eyes lit up as you presented them. You remember the way he kissed each of your fingertips that night, covered with bandaids from pin pricks. You remember returning home the next day from a girls' day with Chaewon, to find a packet of colorful silicone thimbles, and a few more pieces of glittery, cream-colored fabric laid out on your bed.

Fabric he'd used to make you a dress, with flutter sleeves and a deep v-neckline. Fabric he'd used to sit and carefully hand-stitch the flowy sarong skirt. When did he find the time? He hadn't given you much of a chance to ask questions, before he insisted you put it on and let him take you out for a nice dinner.

It was the last time the two of you truly connected on something deeper than his work or your convenient unemployment. It was the last time that the two of you genuinely laughed together and did things from your younger years, like dancing in the twilight to no music and kissing in every corner possible on the walk home. The last time you wore his favorite perfume, because after that, months passed without a second thought about you.

The silence between you has grown neutral – not entirely comfortable, because who wants to spend their days without hearing the love of their life speak to them? Laugh with them, maybe even get into a bit of a spat with them that shows your relationship is becoming more than just the bare minimum? Certainly not you, and by the way Heeseung robotically loops his tie while staring you down in the mirror, a look of longing in his eyes before turning to you.

"I won't be long, I promise." 

He notes the way your head tilts, the way an understanding smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes takes over your face. "Don't worry, take your time." The way your hair is effortlessly splayed around your head, life's odd attempt at recreating the halo to represent the absolute angel you are. One Heeseung doesn't deserve.

You get up, swinging your bare legs over the side of the bed before grabbing for your bath towel. "I'll get ready for my day, and maybe…" You trail off as your toes touch his shoes – he wore them in the house sometimes, a habit of his you despised. 

"And maybe we can catch lunch together?" He finishes, a shy smile crossing his lips as you place a gentle kiss on his cheek. His arm snakes across your naked waist, fingers lightly pinching your hip as you smile into his skin.

"Maybe. Drive safe."

Heeseung knows that Dr. Bahng told him to leave work at work. However, Dr. Bahng said nothing about bringing home to work. He said nothing about thinking about you at work, or missing you, or daydreaming about you instead of analyzing the reports that a pair of rookies messed up. He also said nothing about reading articles by some sketchy romance columnist on how to keep your relationship alive, which is exactly what Heeseung was scrolling through right now. 

There are things in a relationship that must always be shared in order to avoid, or resolve conflict. How the other person is making you feel, how you are making them feel, and how to tackle both negative checklists properly. It is key to always remember that it must be you and your partner against the problem, not you and your partner against each other.

You make Heeseung feel…alive. You make him feel loved, cherished, and even at some bizarre times, worshiped. You make him appreciate waking up at the ass crack of dawn, your sleeping face relaxed as he peppers kisses across your warm skin – something he's thankful never manages to wake you up, but it adds to all the adoration he holds in his heart for you.

How does he make you feel? Dejected, neglected, rejected. Pushed aside for the true love of his life – work. You never bring it up unless he asks. You never brought it up until last July, when he was slumped in his office chair after drinking half a bottle of sherry whiskey, listening to music and thinking about yet another dead end that deterred him from finding Soyoung. You had approached him with a gentle gaze, a soft touch to his shoulder and asking about taking a shower together. You never questioned him, you never pressured him, you never tried to make him something you assumed he just wasn't – an attentive, doting husband.

And he remembers how he asked you, too. He remembers spinning around in his chair, stoically asking you if he was everything you'd ever wanted. Asking you if he was living up to your expectations, as a husband, as a life partner, as a friend, even.

And he remembers the way you sighed carefully before perching on his desk. "You're everything I've ever wanted, and I'm sure you'll continue to grow and be even more deserving of the love I hold for you." You had smiled, your hand coming to rest on his cheek. "Nothing we can't work through, you know? If I was given a choice in another life, another world – I'd still choose you."

He will never forget it, and he can still feel the warmth of your lips against his as you led him to the bathroom. He can still feel the ache of your love on his skin from the way you held him under the running water, quietly basking in his presence as the mint of your shampoo filled his nose. Nothing is as special to him as you are. 

There are things that should routinely be shared in order to maintain a homeostasis of the calendar. Asking how their day was, if you have any ideas for dinner tonight, or if you'd like to do something this weekend to celebrate the mundane. It shouldn't be difficult to establish a routine with your partner, if you are in tune with them. A kiss goodbye in the morning, a warm embrace in the evenings. A shared meal, a shared bath, a shared bed. 

Heeseung can't remember the last time he fully checked in with you – you always have something to do. You always attempt new creative projects, and his fingers toy with the fabric of his slacks as he remembers that you hand stitched them. He thinks about how you waited for him all night yesterday, and the disappointment you must have felt when he arrived late. He thinks about how he just doesn't make time to tackle the problem that you two are constantly glossing over by being intimate – he knows you don't feel loved. 

He didn't ask you about your day yesterday, or the day before, or last week. He didn't ask you if you were sewing anything new, learning any new pieces on the piano collecting dust in the living room. He hasn't asked about your mother, but at least he knows you don't like to talk about her. 

Heeseung hasn't asked you a single thing about yourself, or your life in a while – and he doesn't know how long it's been. Even last night, your eyes were focused entirely on him – the way his lips twitched when you said you liked the wine he chose, the way he pulled your leg over his in the booth you were sharing. You asked him about work, and he just shook his head as he pointed out the new menu items. 

You love him so selflessly.

Something that works for my partner and I is parallel play. We aren't necessarily doing something together, but we are present in the same room and doing our own thing. Knowing that he is there, and that if I need him, I can reach for him, adds a comfort to our relationship. Aside from this, we also come together every two weeks and address any issues we may be experiencing – both in our relationship and our individual lives. We resolve the issues about us together, and advise the other on our personal issues. Balance!

You do this a lot. If Heeseung is home, you'll wander to wherever he is and sit down where you can, and quietly go about your business. Sometimes it's a new cross-stitch, sometimes it's just putting a headphone in and listening to music. Sometimes you're giving yourself a pedicure, sometimes you're just sitting there staring at his corkboard of paraphernalia while matching your breathing to his. It was subtle, something you thought he'd never notice.

He sighs, exiting out of the tab before grabbing his coat off the back of his chair. Tugging it on, he uses one hand to log out of his computer when he hears three knocks on the door. A lightness of the rapping knuckles similar to yours…and your smiling face appears as you crack open the door. "Surprise?" He hates that he can't bite back his smile, a few of his fellow officers wide-eyed at his expression. He nods silently, and you extend your hand for him when you hear his coworkers whispering about you. With a dejected look, you tuck your hand back into the pocket of your jeans, "Guess we don't want them gossiping, right?" "Right." He mumbles, his own hand twitching around the doorknob as he pulls it shut behind him. He wants to reach for you, embrace the warmth you bring, show you off to the people he often calls his friends. Sunghoon catches his eye, a quizzical look on his face before shaking his head. 

Heeseung reaches for you, but you've already made your way towards the door. Your smile has lessened as you open the door, holding it for him. "How was work?" You ask as he joins you in the cool air, and he wastes no time wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in close, his nose buried in your hair. You hesitate to wrap your arms around him, instead leaning back to try and meet his eyes. "Hee?" "Don't ask me about work." He mutters, before pressing his lips to yours softly. You let out a noise of surprise, but you can't melt into his touch before he pulls away. "I hate talking about work, let's talk about you. Over lunch." He takes your hand in his, gently pulling you to his side as he makes his way to the car. He doesn't see yours in the parking lot, so he only assumes you got a rideshare before you clear your throat.

"Are you okay?" The words are slightly jumbled as he leads you to the passenger side, opening the door for you, helping you step in. "Hm? Why do you ask?" "Well…you're actually out of the office. And you want to go to lunch…and you don't want to talk about work?" Your voice is meek, and it makes his chest ache as he reaches to buckle your seatbelt in for you. "I just want to spend time with you. Shall we?" His smile is a little forced, until he sees the soft gloss of embarrassment over your eyes.  "Okay."

Tuesday, 6:23pm.

You don't really know what snapped inside of Heeseung over the weekend. He even took Monday off, turning off his phone after calling in sick and snuggling back into your embrace. He spent all of Sunday asking you random questions throughout the day, wandering around the house as you tried to pick up to start the week off fresh. He would hold the laundry basket so you could separate the clothing, he would hold the step stool so you could dust the corners of the living room – he even re-caulked the window in your bedroom because you were sitting at your vanity doing your makeup. He seemed restless to get all of these answers out of you, and while you didn't mind, you knew this attention was only temporary.

Duty called, after all.

However…he was home earlier than usual. He typically had his session with Dr. Bahng right after dinner time, but it seems your habit of making two portions is deemed fruitful tonight. He's sitting in front of you, having arrived home thirty minutes prior – showered and ready to share a meal with you. Just like he did this weekend, just like he did when your relationship first started out.

You remember sharing meals with him in your dorm room. Your roommate was almost never there, always spending time with her girlfriend – so you had free range of the entire place. Heeseung slept over almost every night, and the two of you would stay up at all hours of the night – whether it was discussing 80s cold cases or your major.

Your major…it wasn't necessarily hard. It was one of those things that was only difficult if you didn't really like it, if you didn't have a passion for it. It was one of those things that took someone strong, both mind and body. You wanted to help better the world, see how things could change at your fingertips. You wanted to eat the world in one bite, and it simply wasn't possible – no matter your hard-earned master's degree or your passion for helping people. It was a time of realization – and it was funny, that you had the same qualifications as Dr. Bahng, but your career would never bear fruit like his.

You never really made a difference, like Dr. Bahng did. You didn't even get through to your husband like he did.

So when you came home one night a few years ago and saw Heeseung sitting at the table, waiting for you, you wondered if any of the people you helped that day would ever get to live content. You quit the very next day, your mind tortured over people you didn't know and things you couldn't control. It took a while before you got out of your head again – and even longer before you finally left your bed. It was this time when your relationship with Heeseung really tried to prove itself worthy of your time and effort – because though he wasn't home with you, to soothe your swirling anxieties and racing mind throughout the day, he was there.

He was there, with plates of fruit and warm tea. He was there, with a hairbrush gently forking through your matted hair. He was there, letting you cry yourself to sleep in his embrace and leaving early the next morning, with bags under his eyes. He understood, somehow, that you needed him more than ever before in those moments, and it seemed like that version of Heeseung was starting to reemerge – this time, without need.

"Are you hiding something from me?" You blurt, and Heeseung nearly chokes on his bite of food. Coughing, he reaches for his glass of water as you pat his back, offering him a napkin to wipe his lip. Taking a sip of water, he looks at you. "We haven't spoken all day and that's how you start a conversation?" He seems amused, a look you don't see on him often anymore. You can feel the heat of embarrassment crawling up your throat, and he pushes his plate forward, choosing to fold his hands on the table before he clears his throat. "I realize…I haven't been the best husband." You can feel your eyes begin to roll, when he taps the table. "I have never been very good to you, and yet, you've stood by me. Through ups, downs…you helped me out of a very dark place when Soyoung went missing." He clears his throat again, and your eyes catch the way he blinks back a few tears. "And I've given you near nothing in return." "Marriage is not transactional." You say gently, and he shakes his head. "Isn't it, though? In the eight years we've been together, you've given me so much. You take care of me, of our home. You…You can just do it all, and I admire it. I really, really do." He runs a hand through his hair, before reaching for your hand. You allow him to take it, and you hate to admit that a bit of skepticism is beginning to settle in your stomach. 

"Why are you saying all of this? It's never mattered before, you know." Heeseung can sense something in your tone that you don't seem to catch. A hint of…frustration, anger, maybe even resentment. He knows you probably have more to say, and that whatever it was would most likely hurt his feelings.

He kind of wants you to, though, and you do – letting go of his hand. He folds them, his plate abandoned in order to take you in fully.

"Do you not want to talk about this? I can drop it, but it'll just come back up, honey." He asks gently, his head tilted to the side as he scans your face. You suck on your teeth, your fork pushing your food around before you sigh. "Maybe you're right." "About?" He straightens, his hands still folded on the table. You give him a guilty look, though he doesn't know what you could possibly have to feel guilty about. 

"You're right, you haven't been the best husband. Hell, I don't think you've ever even really been a good husband, if we're being honest about it." 

Heeseung doesn't react, and doesn't allow his face to move as you speak. He's finally broken the dam, because now you're rambling and you can't seem to stop.

"Was it ever going to be me, I mean, really? They say that being good to the people you love really takes no effort, that it's not hard to be doting and attentive to the person you love. You have such a hard time being here for me, you have the worst time detaching yourself from work and the cases you see everyday. You come home at whatever time is convenient for you, while I wait for you like an idiot." You blurt, and Heeseung breathes in carefully, so as to not startle you. He nods, closing his eyes.

He can sense the impending lump in your throat. He's never really seen you get angry – frustrated, irritated, even annoyed have all been emotions he's both seen and enticed. You've never been angry, you've never exploded on anybody.

"Do you ever think what your life would be like if Soyoung were still around?" 

His eyes snap open at this, brow furrowing slightly but either you don't notice or don't seem to care, because you keep going.

"Do you think you'd even care about me if she was here? I get it, she's your best friend, maybe even the love of your life. I wouldn't blame you at all if I was just a placeholder until she was found." 

He's watching your face as you speak, the way your lower lip trembles slightly and your chest rises and falls in shallow breathing. Your hands shake as you reach for the plate in front of him, shoving it under your own before standing up.

His chest aches at the idea of you thinking that anyone but you could ever be the love of his life, but can't bring himself to open his mouth and tell you.

"As shitty as it sounds, the more the years pass, the more I hope she's found. Maybe then you will truly have someone to love, someone who will fulfill your needs just as you like. Maybe then I won't have to pretend that I don't know I'm second to someone who isn't around." You murmur, and Heeseung feels his stomach churn a bit as you stand, taking the plates to the kitchen. You place them in the sink, holding the cool metal of the basin before turning back to him.

"I love you, Heeseung. I loved you then, I love you now, and I may love you for the rest of my life." You speak softly, stepping back to the table. You lean on the back of a chair, the necklace hanging around your neck mocking him in the dim light. "But me loving you, will never make you truly happy. I don't need you to tell me, you know? Knowing I can keep you company, knowing that you won't be alone, is fine with me. You don't need to love me."

You smile gently, the gloss on your lips sparkling. It's one of his favorites, it tastes like vanilla.

"You don't need to love me the way I love you, for me to know you care. So, don't worry about it. You don't need to check in with me, you don't need to…reciprocate." You shrug, taking the cups off the table, and turning back to the kitchen. You stop, looking over your shoulder. "And, Heeseung?" He can't bring himself to speak. He tries to clear his throat, but you proceed anyway.  "Don't forget date night this Friday."

Thursday, 12:46pm.

You'd dropped by the precinct randomly, seeing Heeseung hunched over his computer from the entrance. The new receptionist asked you who you were here to see, and you gave his name, holding up the bag of food you brought with you. 

"Lieutenant Lee doesn't take visitors." The receptionist rolls her eyes, and you hear Sunghoon before you see him. "Minseo, this is the Lieutenant's wife."

You whirl around to see your long-time friend, who smiles down at you. "Good to see you again. Dr. Lee." He speaks politely, making Minseo blush furiously as she prints a pass for you. She apologizes profusely, but you just shake your head and give her a warm smile, adjusting your purse on your shoulder.

"How're you, Hoon?" You ask as you paste the sticker onto your jacket, and he shrugs as he drapes his arm over your shoulders. "Could be better, could be worse. However, I did hear from a little bird that you and Heeseung got into a fight." Rolling your eyes, you know that Sunghoon is just stirring the pot. He seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to your relationship with Heeseung – seeing as he was the one who got the two of you together in the first place. 

"We didn't…ugh, we didn't fight. We just…had a conversation. I'll tell you about it, when are you off? We can get dinner." You say as the two of you reach Heeseung's office. He shakes his head.

"Don't put me in the middle. I'll text you though, we do need to catch up." He says, knocking on Heeseung's door for you. You hear your husband's tired voice, and Sunghoon opens the door. "You've got a special visitor." 

You don't miss the way Heeseung's exhausted eyes look up at you, lighting up the moment they land on your face. You almost crack a smile at this, before Sunghoon shoves you in lightly. "Enjoy your lunch, Lieutenant." Heeseung doesn't say anything. The two of you hadn't really spoken since Tuesday night, and he certainly didn't expect you to come by today. Or any day, really…he remembered the first time you ever dropped by the precinct. He'd welcomed you with a tight smile, before asking you to let him know beforehand next time. You didn't do it again, for years.

"Mind if I close these?" You ask, gesturing to the blinds, and he shrugs. He doesn't close out any of his tabs as you set the food down, kneeling on the couch lining the wall to close his blinds. He takes this moment to take you in. You were wearing his favorite dress on you, the pink one with the white-lined circle seams. You're shrugging off your jacket now that the blinds are closed, draping it over the chair in front of his desk. "I brought you lunch, I hope that's okay. I probably should have called ahead." You gesture to the bag on the table, but his eyes just peer over the monitor, his brow twitching up as you sit gingerly on the edge of the couch. He hadn't cleared up or refuted any of your points on Tuesday, but the guilt he felt that night was enough to make him sleep in the guest room. He didn't know that didn't make you feel any better, in your mind it just cemented your opinions as you let your pillow soak up a few stray tears. 

"You look gorgeous." He murmurs as you unpack quietly, uncapping containers and sniffing them to figure out what is what. You stop, holding a bowl of broth to your face when you register what he said. "What?" "I said, you look gorgeous." He repeats himself, quickly typing up a rather unprofessional email to the rest of the precinct and letting them know he'd be leaving after lunch. He shoots it off, exiting the tab before standing up and stretching. His shirt is messily untucked, and he can feel your eyes on him as he twists to relax his back muscles. "Thank you…I think." He shrugs, ignoring the pang in his chest at your uncertainty before glancing over the array of food you'd brought with you. You seem a bit unsure about it all, but they're all his favorite dishes. He doesn't see any of yours – no soft tofu stew, no cold noodles, not even the tea you like. He keeps scanning your face as you prepare everything silently.

"Have you eaten already? I know you don't like any of these dishes." He asks, squatting next to you. You smile down at him, shrugging. "I'll eat at home. You left breakfast on the table this morning, so I figured you'd be hungry."

He had left breakfast on the table, but not for the reason you think. His morning routine consisted of showering, brushing his teeth and washing his face, putting his clothes on and, as creepy as it sounds, staring at you as you slept. He didn't kiss you this morning, like he usually did, but he desperately wanted to. So much so that he lost track of time just watching you sleep so peacefully, and had to run out of the house without it.

"I'm sorry, baby. I was in a rush." He pouts, and you just shake your head. "Don't worry about it. What's one day?"

It's everything. He thinks he feels your cold demeanor seep into his bones a bit, but your eyes are still warm as ever. Your smile doesn't reach your eyes, but your hand ruffles his hair lightly. He lifts slightly to sit next to you, and you press your lips to his cheek, your lipstick stamping on his skin. "You smell nice." He doesn't respond, his cheeks and ears tinging pink as you hand him utensils. Leaning back, you rest your head against the window sill, not noticing he's made no effort to even touch the food you've brought. Still, better now than never.

"I have something to tell you." You murmur, and he hums in response. 

"I figured about as much." He leans back with you, holding a rice cake between his teeth before shoving into his mouth. "Do tell, Dr. Lee." You stare at your manicured nails, the french tip suddenly bothersome to your eyes. "I had an interview this morning, at the fifth precinct. In the next town over. " 

He sits up, turning to face you completely. "Okay. How'd it go? I did hear that Dr. Park was retiring." Not a hint of malice in his voice, just pure curiosity. Encouragement, support.

"They said I can start next week. Three patients a day for two weeks, and then I will take over Dr. Park's patients as well. Well, those who want to transfer over." You don't know why you're nervous telling him this. His eyes scan your face, and you groan. "Why are you staring at me?" "You don't seem very happy about it." He says, tilting his head to the side as he bites into another rice cake. "I am happy about it. I just…it's a little far and I won't be home before you are on nights you're not set to see Dr. Bahng. I won't get to make dinner and I'll be out of the house before you are most days." 

You stop yourself from rambling, watching as Heeseung looks at you intently. He glances at the food spread out on the table, before shoving the other half of the rice cake he bit into his cheek. "C'mon."

He gets up, yanking his coat off the hanger by the door, before opening it. "Where are we going? Heeseung, the food-" "Sunghoon, lunch on me." He calls out the door, before grabbing your jacket off the chair and your purse. Looking at you, he watches as you sit still, confusion on your face before he walks over, draping your jacket over your shoulders. "C'mon, we've got to celebrate. We can go to that French place you love." 

Amused, you shove your arms through the sleeves of your jacket before standing. "Heeseung, you hate that place." Rolling your eyes, you reach for your purse, only for him to grab your hand and pull you in. His lips are on yours, a chaste kiss shared before he leans his forehead against yours.

"But I love you, and I'm proud of you. So let me show you, yeah?" 

You blink up at him, before hearing Sunghoon's grunt of feigned disgust. "C'mon, guys, not in the office!"

"Shut up, man." Heeseung rolls his eyes, lacing his fingers in yours, and you hear the soft clink of metal. Ignoring the bickering between the two men, you look down, you see his engraved wedding band gleaming up at you, having knocked with an old silver ring of his that you'd taken after it stopped fitting him. "You're wearing your ring." "Hm?" He glances down at you, before smiling. "Oh, yeah. I figured…I don't know. I like seeing it, it was silly of me to think the way I did about it."

Sunghoon scoffs at the sudden mushiness, and you look up to see half the precinct staring you down. Heeseung has your lipstick stamped on his cheek, and you feel embarrassed as the two of you get walked out by Sunghoon. Jungwon passes by, doing a double take when he sees the lipstick on your husband's face.

He smiles at you, a knowing look in his eyes as the two of you skirt past. Heeseung stops at the receptionist's desk, her smile disappearing the moment she sees your lipstick on his cheek. He asks her to cancel all his appointments for the day, and to let Captain Choi know that he would be taking the weekend off. She just nods, and Heeseung bids everyone goodbye with a whistle.

"She hates me, you know." You mumble, and he gives your hand a squeeze. “She can hate you all she wants, doesn’t change anything. Waste of her own energy.”

You don’t know what to make of this. In a way, you think you’ve forgotten your husband’s demeanor. Heeseung squeezes your hand again, "Where's your car? Did you take a rideshare?"

His brow is furrowed as he scours the parking lot for your sedan, and you shake your head. "Saving gas, I have quite the commute." He scrunches his nose, before shrugging as the two of you make your way to his car.

He opens the door for you quietly, helping you up and going as far as taking your purse to hang behind his headrest. You always complained about the feeling of the straps against your neck when you leaned your head back.

"So." He starts, his fingers carefully turning the volume dial down as the soft jazz station he plays on his commute bleeds through the speakers. "So…what?" "Why didn't you tell me you were thinking of going back to work? I thought we told each other everything." He says pointedly, as he makes a turn into the street. The light at the end is still green, if he speeds up a bit, he should make it. He sees you shrug out of the corner of his eye.

"Didn't think it'd be important. If I'm honest, I didn't think you'd notice." He doesn't like the twinge of sadness in your voice, but you clear your throat before he can mention it. "Should we take a walk later, as well? The weather feels great." "Yeah, honey. Whatever you want." He nods, his turn signal flicked by his ring finger, and he doesn't miss your eyes on his hands as he makes the turn. "Hee?" "Yes?" "I'm sorry." You murmur, making him glance at you quickly before you turn your head back to look out the window. Before you know it, he's pulling into an empty parking lot behind an apartment complex, ignoring the onlooking eyes of a woman taking her trash out. He parks carefully, turning the car off before turning in his seat to look at you.

"Sorry?" He echoes, and you peer over your shoulder at him. Your eyes are glossed over, and he huffs out a humorless laugh. "Oh, my baby. Come here." His arms wrap around you carefully, your hands coming to cover your face as he tucks you into his shoulder. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Y/N." "I do. I do, Heeseung. I was such a jerk on Tuesday–" Your muffled words stop as he pulls away, his warm fingers circling your shoulders and giving a soft squeeze. "No. You weren't a jerk, you were trying to communicate with me." "Still, I–" "No, Y/N. If anything, I've been a jerk." He huffs, letting go of your shoulders as his back hits the window lightly. "I've never been a good partner to you, and it's so incredibly unfair of me to think that you will just wait and wait until I just feel like being better to you." You blink at him owlishly, adjusting to tuck your legs under you. Your heels now sit on the car floor.

"I have never been good to you. No matter what it is, no matter where I am, I push you aside time and time again. It's like…" He stops, picking at his cuticles before sighing. "I love you so much. It's so hard for me to say and I still feel like some stupid teenager trying to figure out his feelings, but I know. I know I love you and I know you deserve to be loved far more than I can express." You rest your temple against the headrest, "Not everyone goes through what you did, though. I'd be foolish to think loving you would be an ordinary path." "And then you go and do that. God, you're so understanding and it kills me inside." He smiles pitifully, running a hand through his hair. "I want to deserve it. I want to come home and deserve the warm meals you make, I want to lay in bed with you and deserve your touch and your warmth and I want to deserve you."

His eyes sting with tears, and he hears a soft sigh from your lips. Lips he yearns for every second of the day, lips he loves to feel trail along his neck after a long day at work. Lips he pulls whines and moans out of, lips he kisses shimmery vanilla lip gloss off of.

You don't say anything, your fingers reaching for him in his lap. You interlock your hands, bringing his up to your lips and placing a soft kiss on his knuckles.

"I've thought about divorce, you know." You say quietly, his head snapping up to look at you. "What?" "Yeah." You breathe out, your fingers tightening around him. "I thought about leaving, I thought about taking one of the offers I've received in the last seven years for a job in the middle of a new city. I thought about packing up all my clothes, and phoning my mother for help. I figured, if she's my attorney, I can leave everything to you in lieu of me." Heeseung can feel his chest ache as you turn to look at him, your pearl drop earrings swinging with your hair as you do so. He feels like he's in a movie.

"But, I thought about being nineteen with you." "Nineteen?" "Nineteen." You laugh softly, your thumb now rubbing small circles into his skin. You place your other hand atop the pair, enveloping him in your warmth. "I thought about nineteen-year-old me, who saw nineteen-year-old you and felt the world come to a slow, slow stop."

You're staring up into the sky now, the odd sighting of the moon high in the sky at this hour was a good distraction. "I thought, what can I do to deserve him? What can I do to ease his pain, and help him hop through life until his answers are found, until he no longer needs me?" 

"I'll always need you." He blurts, and you nod. "You're selfish like that." He silently nods in agreement, and you speak again. "You're a selfish lover." "I know." He mumbles, not able to look you in the eyes as you sigh. "But, I like it."

"I like that you're selfish." You repeat, and he gives you a quick look. "I like that even when I don't feel loved by you, you wouldn't survive without me. In lieu of me, who?" Your voice is sweet, but he knows your words hold a bit of bitterness. You like the idea of him being nothing without you, and he can't blame you for that. If you'd treated him the way he did you, he'd wish ill upon you until he no longer could. He'd hate you.

"Shall we go?" You ask gingerly, and he nods as he turns in his seat, letting go of your hand. You allow it, buckling in your seatbelt as he readies himself, turning the key in the slot before you clear your throat. "Heeseung?" "Yes?" He hates the eagerness in his voice. He hates how he's like a dog the moment you offer a crumb of your attention, but it's what he deserves. He wants to be a lovesick fool for you, he wants your every word to burn and weigh on him like the heat of a thousand fires.

Your gentle smile kills him as you look into his eyes, a shrug to your shoulders as you let the words slip.

"I love you."

Saturday, 6:43pm.

Thursday afternoon and all of Friday had been rather odd in your house.

Heeseung spent the days trailing behind you, even offering to take you out to shop for outfits for your new job in lieu of date night. You weren't surprised, though – he was always a fan of the way you styled yourself for work. Classy dresses, skirts that fell just below the knee. Long sleeved blouses with jeweled buttons, he felt like a Victorian man going nuts over the sight of your pantyhose-covered ankles.

Tonight, he'd made it a point to get slightly tipsy. You'd gone to a luncheon with your new boss earlier, so you'd arrived just as he was finishing up vacuuming the living room with a half-empty glass of bourbon and Stardust by Ben Webster played throughout the house. He wanted a bit of liquid courage for the conversation he knew the two of you had to have – that is, if he wanted things to start changing for the better.

"Hee?" You called from the foyer, watching as he spun to look at you, face slightly flushed from the alcohol. You let out a laugh, shrugging your coat off as he trekked the living room to greet you. "Babe! How was lunch? I figured I'd clean up here a bit, I know you hate when it gets messy…" Heeseung rambled on about the housework as you gingerly stepped out of your heels, nodding along to his tipsy conversation. You left your shoes in the tiled foyer, walking towards the kitchen for a drink of your own. Heeseung had bought you your favorite sherry whiskey as a congratulatory gift on your new job.

"Wait, let me pour. You must be tired." He stops you from grabbing the bottle off the bar in the kitchen, choosing to skirt around you and open the fridge for a nice cube of ice. You liked two, he remembers. "How was the lunch? Did you eat?" You shrug, "I nibbled. It wasn't very good, it was at that Italian place we don't like." You scrunch your nose as Heeseung hands you your drink, making his lips curve slightly. "Funny, I was going to say we should give it another try." "No way, they fucked up my tiramisu. Remind me to never recommend that place to Sunghoon." You scoff, missing the way your husband's eyes trail your relaxed form as you lean against the counter. "And one of the other doctors was asking me so many questions about myself, it was so annoying. Like, we're not going to be best friends, man." "Like what?" He asks, listening to My Foolish Heart by Bill Evans Trio echo through the house. It was one of the songs played at your wedding, one of the first songs you and Heeseung ever danced to in college. "Oh, Dr. Lee, are you married? Oh, Dr. Lee, do you have kids? Oh, Dr. Lee, what does your husband do? Like shut up! Why does it matter, you're my husband, not his." You roll your eyes, not noticing the way Heeseung's cheeks flush at your words. Downing your drink in one go, you wince slightly, likely from the ice clinking against your teeth but you shake it off. "So, what do we want for dinner?" You poke at his side, and his arm reaches for you. You willingly bring yourself into his embrace, his arms looping around you gently as your fingers hold his t-shirt. "You look so pretty in your little outfit." "Dinner, Heeseung. Use your noggin." You roll your eyes, and he just peers down at you with an odd look in his eyes. Full of…admiration? "You're so beautiful." You feel your cheeks warm as you try to play off his effect on you, clicking your tongue. "I need you to focus here, Lieutenant. Me, your wife, would like dinner." "I heard you, baby." He nods, pulling you closer. You huff, but allow yourself to rest your head against his chest. The two of you had not been…close in this manner in a very long time – you couldn't possibly date the last time he held you like this, it was that long ago. You hate how easily you're melting into him, the warmth of his body, the gentle caressing of his hands to the rhythm of the jazz song playing in the living room.

"Should we get take out? We can watch that movie you like, the one with Al Pacino." He murmurs, carefully tugging the elastic out of your hair, releasing the curls from the ponytail you'd tied back earlier. You nod against him quickly, "And Keanu Reeves?" The two of you look at each other, and he can feel a laugh bubble in his throat at how excited you look as he nods. "Yeah." "Okay! Okay, I'm…gonna go change, and then we can get settled and stuff. Okay?" You blink up at him, your fingers already making quick work of the buttons on your shirt. His lip is tucked between his teeth as his eyes rake your skin, and you scoff, tugging your shirt to cover your chest. "Heeseung! Pay attention!" "I am, baby! I am paying attention!" He laughs, throwing his hands up in defense. "God forbid I want to look at you!" "You're such a man, ugh!" You stick your tongue out at him, turning on your heel when you hear him call after you. "Yeah, well, I'm your man. Deal with it!" You hate how his words make you feel like a teenager as you scamper to your bedroom, quickly discarding your work clothes into the hamper by the door. You can hear Heeseung speaking on the phone in the kitchen, soft thank yous from his lips as you unclasp your bra, sighing in relief as you dig through your husband's drawer when you hear him start walking down the hall. 

"Jesus, warn a guy." He gasps dramatically from the doorway, and you roll your eyes as you tug one of his old band tees over your head. "Heeseung, you've literally eaten my ass." "You said you liked it!" He protests, and you snort. "It was okay. You act like you're so amazed by my boobs, you've seen them hundreds of times." You flip your hair out of the shirt, opening your own drawer to fish out a pair of bottoms. 

"Doesn't make me love them any less." He shrugs, checking his watch. "We have twenty minutes until the food gets here." You look up at him, your fingers rooting through the drawer as you take in his avoidant look. He's nibbling on his lower lip as he stares up at the ceiling fan, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. You scoff, "Honey, we've been together for eight years. If you want to have sex, you can say that." "You make me nervous!" He groans, and you laugh out loud. "What has gotten into you, Lee Heeseung? One week you're begging to eat me out and the next you can't even look at me in my underwear! Are you alright?" You snort as you pull out a pair of his old basketball shorts, and he sighs. "Uhm…Okay, fine. I want to talk about our…sex life? The…uhm, the way we kind of just skirt around all our issues with it." You blink, and you want to tell your heart not to get its hopes up at his words. This will all change in a week, your relationship is beyond fixing.

Right? "Okay. What about it? You don't like that we have sex when we can't communicate?" You nod, pulling the shorts over your legs and letting the waistband snap around your hips. He nods, fiddling with his watch when you put your hand on his wrist. "I need you to talk to me, Heeseung. You wanted to talk about this." "It's…" He breathes, running a hand through his hair as you pull him to the bed, sitting down as he slots himself between your knees. His fingers toy with the hem of the shorts you're wearing, clearing his throat. "I don't want you to think I don't…enjoy it. I love…being with you, in any way you'll have me." "Uh huh?" You interlace your fingers with his, his eyes avoiding yours. "I…want to stop doing that. I know that it's a big part of how we stay connected, uhm, intimately. I know I haven't been making much time for you outside of the bedroom and that's something I want to work on." You can feel your heart pick up a bit.

"So…you want to stop having sex altogether? Or you'd like to…fight and make up?" You tilt your head, feeling a wave of nervousness begin to seep into your stomach. He shakes his head quickly, "I don't think I could ever…I'd like to fight. A lot. As much as we need to." He blinks rapidly, eyes still avoiding yours when you nod slowly. "And…you want to have sex spontaneously? Do you want to schedule it? Do you want to–" "I'm good with whenever. You can have me anytime you want, even if you don't want to have sex for the next year. I'm all yours, whenever." He interrupts, his cheeks burning pink as he clears his throat. You narrow your eyes, "Oookay. You know that goes both ways, right?" "I don't think you understand the willpower it takes not to be all over you every single second of my waking hours." His eyes are now squeezed shut, and you can feel your own cheeks warm as you feel his fingers flex around yours. You let out a soft ha, before nodding. "O-Okay, sure." "So…we're okay? Can we start taking things a little slower?" He asks with a wince, and you nod. "Absolutely." He nods, "Cool, cool. Uhm…I'll wait in the living room for you, okay? I'll set up the movie." He pulls away with a gentle squeeze to your hands, a soft smile playing on his lips as he ducks out of the bedroom. You feel your stomach sink a bit, but out of relief. You feel…lighter.

You didn't mind the once-a-week sessions with Heeseung. He'd come home, the two of you would be particularly agitated – you because you felt pushed aside, Heeseung because of work, because he didn't have enough time for you, because he just wanted to feel some sort of peace. You'd try and start a conversation, only for him to push you back on the couch or the bed, or even the carpet in your living room and kiss you breathless. His tongue would slip into your mouth with practiced precision, his hand pinning your wrists above your head as he begged you to just let him take care of you.

You didn't mind because every touch from him was just right. His lips dragging against your jaw, his fingers shoved down your pants while he whispered sweet nothings. You don't know if Heeseung remembers any of the things he says during sex – how much he loves you, something he can't openly say when he's fully in his five senses. Despite feeling the way you did about your relationship with Heeseung, sex was never something you had to feel worried about – he would get just as drunk off you as he did his favorite bourbon. Sex with Heeseung was like a rollercoaster, even the very first time. He knew every button to push, every spot to caress, to kiss, to bite. He made you feel like you were swimming in a pool of lust and love and you couldn't help but cry during the middle of it all sometimes, only to feel his tongue carefully collecting your tears. "You're so pretty."

Shivering, you fan at yourself before sliding off your bed, making a beeline to your bathroom. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him softly swaying to yet another jazz song as he drapes one of your favorite blankets across the couch. You can't help but smile inwardly, shutting the door behind you as you look at yourself in the mirror. Sighing, you grab for your face wash, not able to stop thinking.

Heeseung does love you. He does, even if he's not good at saying it. He does, even if it means he bruises the stupid tattoo you got of his initials with how tight he holds your hips. He does, because he lets you claw at his tattoo of your initials on his shoulder. You still remember being drunk out of your mind when you stumbled into the studio to get them done.

And you remember that being the first sign that being with Heeseung was not temporary. You hadn't even had sex at that point in your relationship – choosing to cement your relationship with a permanent reminder. One that you knew was under his shirt even when his ring wasn't on his finger, one he knew was just under your panties even when you were mad at him for not spending time with you.

"Baby! Food's here!"  You hear Heeseung call as you reach for your moisturizer.

Baby. A silly pet name you'd missed dearly, a silly pet name he'd used three times just today. "Coming!" You call, quickly wiping the sink of water and opening the bathroom door, scurrying out. He's sprawled across the couch, the containers of takeout spread out on the coffee table in front of him. His hand is messing with the remote, typing The Devil's Advocate into your Amazon Prime account. 

"Hey." He murmurs, feeling you press a kiss to the crown of his head. He doesn't know why he's so nervous – he's literally seen you naked. You ruffle his hair, before rounding the couch and sitting gingerly on the floor. You didn't like to eat on the couch, Heeseung knew that. You slid in front of him, your shoulders pushing his knees apart as you rested your head on the left one. He says nothing, only leaning back as he presses play on the film.

The silence between you is comfortable. You're chewing carefully, soft gasps from your lips as if you hadn't watched this movie hundreds of times. He can't help but think if this was what he was missing out on while he was at work. You, dressed down in his clothing, holding your mouth open around a particularly overstuffed pork bun as Al Pacino dips his fingers into Holy Water.

"You're cute." He murmurs to himself, and you lean your head back slightly, a bit of hoisin sauce on the corner of your lip as you chew. "Hm?" "You're cute, babe." He shakes his head, wiping the corner of your mouth with his thumb. You blink at him, before twisting to look at him properly. Your brows furrow as you swallow, and you click your tongue. You give him a suspicious glance before turning back to the television, shrugging your shoulders as you lean back again.

He likes this. He could get used to it.

Heeseung cleaned up after you finished eating. He even ran the water for your shower, opting to go in after you. You'd pouted, asking him to go in with you – but he insisted he still had things to finish up before he could even think about winding down.

However, when you arrive in the bedroom with your hair wrapped in a towel and a baggy shirt over your shoulders, he can't help but take a peek. He sees the lavender trim of your underwear from his stance in the closet as you bend slightly to fish out a pair of sweatpants, his fingers tightening around the hanger in his hand. It breaks, the crack making you suddenly look up.

"What was that?" Your eyes are wide, scanning him as you pull out a random pair of shorts. He sheepishly hides his hand behind his back, shaking his head quickly. "Nothing, honey. Oh, I saw that you were running out of your serum…thing. The one for your hair, it's in the drawer." He pressed his lips together as he nodded, and you squint at him before opening the top drawer. Sure enough, the Biosilk bottle sits pretty, wrapped in the bag you knew was from the beauty supply store. You take it out, but see Heeseung grimace in the mirror. You peer at him, before seeing the broken hanger in his hand. Rolling your eyes, 

"Maybe if you weren't so busy trying to get a peek at my underwear, you wouldn't have broken that." "Shut up." He scoffs, cheeks heating as he skirts out of the closet, throwing the hanger away in the trashcan by the door. You just shake your head, unwrapping the bottle as he appears next to you. "It's that one, right?" "Yeah, Hee. Thank you." You nod, placing it closer to the mirror. You look up at him through the mirror, noting the way he's gazing at you lovingly. "You're staring." "So?" He shrugs, and you scoff. "Get in the shower, Heeseung. I'm sleepy." "Don't fall asleep without me!" He presses his lips to your temple suddenly, and you don't get a chance to react before he's gone. You hear the door shut behind him, and you quickly grab your phone from its spot on the nightstand, abandoning the shorts you had in your hand on the dresser.

Msg To: Park Sunghoon [9:32pm] please please tell me you won't call hee in to work tmrw

You nibble on your lips, watching as Sunghoon reads the message. His chat bubble pops up, then goes back down. 

Msg From: Park Sunghoon [9:33pm] i'll run it by the guys here in a bit, and i'll let you know. cool?

You don't reply, only giving him a thumbs up reaction. Setting your phone down, you move around for your night routine. Moisturizer, curl cream…before the large bed behind you calls your name as a siren does to shipwrecked pirates.

Flopping face down, you sigh into the pillow. You weren't ready to start working on Monday – you weren't ready to leave the comfort of your home, to talk to people all day about their problems again. You weren't ready for your mother to find out through her connections that you're practicing again.

You weren't ready to stop making two portions of dinner for your husband who wouldn't get home on time, you weren't ready to not be kissed all over in the morning even though he thought you were asleep. You'd never sleep through something so tender.

"Babe, I said don't fall asleep!" You hear Heeseung whine, and you groan into your pillow before flipping onto your back with your eyes closed. "I'm not sleeping! I'm just…resting my eyes." "That's sleeping." He's closer now, and you feel his lips press on your forehead. "It's fine, we have all day tomorrow." "If they don't call you into work." You grumble, and he pinches your cheek, before you feel your husband's lips brush the shell of your ear. "You should never trust Sunghoon to relay a message." "Fuck off!" You whine, shoving him away as you open your eyes. His hair has been dried, his bottom half tucked into a pair of flannel pajama pants. He's holding an old tshirt in his hand as he rounds the bed, "You're not planning on sleeping on top of the duvet, are you?" "Some of us get hot at night." You scowl, but a yelp gets caught in your throat as you feel him yank you to the edge of the bed by your ankle. You narrow your eyes as you look up at him, seeing your husband smiling down at you with a tilt to his head.

"Why the attitude, princess? Something wrong?" 

He's talking down to you, something that makes your cheeks heat. You furrow your brows, scoffing as you prop yourself up on your elbows. His hand leaves your ankle, splaying on the skin of your thigh. "Why would anything be wrong?" He shrugs, his smile still digging into your very bones. "I figured I'd ask, since you begged Sunghoon not to call me this weekend." "Sunghoon is a rat, you know this. Remember when you pushed Jay's head into his birthday cake and Sunghoon immediately dogged you? Why would you believe him?" You try to rationalize your way out of answering his questions, but Heeseung nods as if he's understanding. "You're right, baby. I shouldn't believe him, someone who snitches everyone out because he believes there aren't enough honest people in this world." You scoff at his pointed look, knowing that Heeseung likes the little game you play. He likes cornering you, he likes giving you no way out. He likes the way your skin gets a little warmer under his touch.

"Okay, fine. I admit it!" You groan, falling back onto the bed. "God forbid I want to spend some time with my husband before I'm sent away." You drape your arm dramatically over your eyes, hearing Heeseung laugh above you. You hadn't had a night like this in so long, you can nearly feel the stupid butterflies from your college days floating back around you.

"You're going to work, you're not being shipped off to another country." He removes your arm from over your face, revealing your scrunched nose. He kisses the tip of it, seeing your cheeks bloom pink. "Yeah…" You sigh, before gently placing your hands on Heeseung's cheeks. He smiles down at you, "Yeah?" "I'll miss you." You admit, and his eyes soften as he captures your lips softly. His hands move to your hips, squeezing softly as he pulls back. "I'll miss you too, baby. It'll just take some getting used to." "Will you drive me on Monday?" You blurt, seeing his eyes widen as he nods quickly. "Absolutely. How early? Six? Seven?" You did not expect him to agree so fast. "Uhm, I have to be out of here by six-thirty to get there before the clinic opens." Your husband nods, and you watch the way his eyes move around as he does calculations in his head. "So…we'd be up by five?" He nods to himself, and you shrug. "You don't have to, I'm sorry I brought it up." "Kindly shut the hell up." He rolls his eyes, and you mimic his actions, pulling him back down to your lips. You don't say anything, only kissing him gently as his fingers toy with the hem of your underwear. You can tell he's holding back, not wanting to have this moment go like your usual nights together. He can't stop kissing you back though, and you can feel him slightly rutting against your leg.

"You're humping my leg." You whisper into his lips, and he shrugs, his fingers tugging down your underwear in one swift motion. "Don't care. Lie down." He pushes you back, quickly pushing your shirt up your chest until you get the hint and slip it off.

"What happened to taking it slow?" You tease as he kisses down your stomach, hissing as he nips just above your belly button. "This is slow, but if you want me to stop, I will." He looks up at you, eyes dark. You shake your head, earning another nip from his teeth.

"Words, princess." You flush deeper, nibbling on your lip as you speak. "Keep going." He raises an eyebrow, and you roll your eyes. "Please." "You're such a brat." He rolls his eyes, before sinking to his knees on the carpet. He pulls you closer to the edge of the bed by your knees, one of your legs over his shoulder as he kisses down your thighs. You're squirming, earning a quick slap to your leg. "Stop." "S-Sorry." You mumble, feeling him nose at your pussy. He inhales deeply, a groan from his lips as he places a soft kiss on your clit, a sharp breath caving your stomach in. "Pretty, always so pretty for me." 

You don't get a chance to respond to his muttering, feeling his tongue drag purposefully through your folds. You sigh shakily, your fingers finding his hand that rested on your stomach. He laces your fingers together as he licks at you with an agonizingly slow place.

"F-faster." You whine, feeling him smile into your wet heat. "I said I'd take it slow, princess. You can wait, right? Be a good girl f'me." You suck in yet another sharp breath as his pouty lips wrap around your clit, his hand squeezing yours gently as you whimper. Your hips grind carefully against his tongue, taking all your willpower to not beg him to touch you more. "Missed you. Missed this." He murmurs, letting go of your hand to pull you impossibly closer, his arms wrapping around your thighs as he fucks his tongue into your aching center.

"M-Missed you." You whine, your hand finding home in his hair. "Pull it." He mutters into your pussy, and you tug harshly as he groans into you. The vibrations are torture, your whimpers filling the room. He takes his time, and you can feel your thighs threatening to close around his head.

"Want m-more. P-Please?" You gasp out, and you almost feel angry at the way your husband chuckles. "What happened to taking it slow? You're that needy? Can't cum like this?" You huff, yanking on his hair – earning a low moan. He obliges anyway, slipping his pants down as he stands. He towers over you, your eyes wide at his glistening lips as his hand snakes down between your legs. You shake your head, pulling it away as he laughs breathily. "Baby, I can't–" "I can take it. Please? I can, I promise." You beg, bringing his fingers to your mouth. He watches as you lick them clean, your tongue snaking around his wedding band. You're really and truly his for the taking, loving, fucking.

He shudders, leaning to kiss you softly. Your lips only taste of sin, your tongue sliding into his mouth with practiced ease. He groans quietly, his hard cock sliding against your soaked cunt as you whimper into his mouth. “Please, please—”

“I know baby, I know.” He murmurs, sinking into you slowly with a choked moan. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders, feeling your shaky breathing against his neck. He gives an experimental roll of his hips, relishing in the burn of your nails dragging down his back with a groan. Pushing your hands off him, he pins them above your head, interlocking your fingers.

"I love you." His lips are pressed to yours before you can respond, hips snapping at a menacing pace. Your breath gets caught in your throat, pressing your bare chest to his as he trails his mouth down your jaw. "Can never get enough of you." His soft whispers receive nothing but your whines, your hand squeezing his as he mouthed at whatever skin he could reach. "Could never ask for a better woman." He whispers into your ear, his teeth nipping tirelessly in efforts to burn himself into you forever.

"Can never get you off my mind. Think about you all day, baby." He lets go of your hands, circling his fingers around your thighs and spreading them further. You clench around him, your hands covering your face as a whine slips from his throat, fucking into you harder.

"W-Wanna live in this pussy, fuck." He groans, feeling your gummy walls tighten around him, his hand snaking down to play with your clit. Your moan is sharp, thighs threatening to close around his hips but he forces them apart as your eyes gloss over. "Need you to cum f'me, pretty. N-Need you to cream all over this dick." You open your mouth to speak, only to have it covered by his lips as he leans down to kiss you. He sucks on your tongue messily, feeling your fingers rake through his hair as you pull him back, mouthing at his neck. "W-Want you to cum inside m-me." You mumble, feeling his hips stutter against the swell of your ass, but he quickly falls back into rhythm.

"Y-Yeah? Fuck, want me to fill you up? I'll give you everything, baby. Anything you want, shit–" He whines into your neck, spurred on by your soft whimpers of yeah, yeah – your nails dragging across his back once more, your fingers digging into his tattoo of your initials almost angrily. Your release rips through you with a loud whine, coating his thighs and soaking into the sheets, clenching like a vice around him as he straightens himself.

"Shit, honey–" His eyes are low as he tucks his lip between his teeth, pushing your knees to your chest as he pounds into you, pulling sobs from your throat as he fucks you through your orgasm. His head falls forward as he cums inside you, his fingers finding yours and squeezing like his life depends on it. 

"Fuck." He mutters, pressing his forehead to your chest, the room filling with sounds of your panting and his lips trailing wetly along your shoulders and neck. "When did you…have you ever done that before?" "I don't think so." You breathe out, and his skin feels sticky but he doesn't care. "What…" He straightens, bearing his weight on his elbows as he peers down at you. You're glowing softly, your eyes slightly lower than when you'd started, lips swollen from his teeth pulling at them. "What changed? How can I be better?" Your cheeks flush deeper, shaking your head gently. "I don't–" "C'mon. What was it? You've never had complaints before." He says pointedly, and you smile. "Nothing to complain about, you always do well." "But?" He probes, his eyes locked on yours, and you sigh, pushing his hair off his sweaty forehead. "I don't know, Hee. I guess…I just like when you talk to me." Communication.

His eyes narrow as he thinks, thinking back to all the times you've had sex. He's sure he's spoken to you then, likely incoherent, pussydrunk babbles–

"When you said…" Your voice fades, closing your eyes as you shake your head. "Nevermind." "I could never ask for a better woman." 

It dawns on him, looking back down at you. Your eyes avoid his as you gently thumb at a red line down his shoulder, cause of your fingernails, but he tilts your face with his hand. His fingers squish the fat of your cheeks, a tear slipping from your eyes as he presses a soft kiss to your lips. "I could never ask for a better woman, my love." Your eyes flutter closed as he peppers kisses across your face, tears continuing to fall as he kisses your cheeks. "I love you, okay? I'm so fucking sorry for making you feel like you're not the most important thing to me in this world. I'd die for you, I'd kill for you, okay?" You nod silently, but your lip curls into a smile as he buries his face into your neck. "I'm not a thing, Hee." "Shut up." He whines, and you laugh. "I love you, too. I could never ask for a better man, ever." "God, don't. We won't leave this bed." He groans, and you nip at his earlobe, sucking it gently. "You promise?"

Monday, 5:32am.

He did promise.

You and Heeseung did not leave your bedroom once on Sunday. Well, he did – when he grabbed the food delivery you ordered, and to get you water on multiple occasions. You changed your sheets twice only to ruin them again, the sex messier and wetter the longer you and Heeseung went at it. He took everything you gave him in any position he could fold you into – but nothing beat seeing you laid out on your back, his fingers bruised into your hips and love bites blooming all over your body. He liked admiring you from above, sure – but he loved nothing more than his face shoved between your legs, suffocated by your warm, wet heat.

Your whimpers were burned into his mind, so much so he could hardly leave you alone when night approached. You practically had to beg him to get in the shower, his only request being that you join him. 

By join him, he meant pressing you against the tiles and sinking his teeth into your neck and shoulders as he slid himself through your thighs over and over again. He bit down your back mercilessly, sinking to his knees behind you and lapping his tongue against your cum-coated cunt like a man starved.

Needless to say, the water ran cold and you had shampoo in your hair for an hour.

He didn't care, though. He kissed you deeply, wanting to feel every inch of you all over him before bidding you goodnight. He wanted to wake up early and make you breakfast, he wanted to pick out your pretty blouse and your heels. He wanted to be involved in your life.

"Rise and shine, baby." He whispered into your hair, holding a plate in his left hand as he pinched the fat of your cheek in the other. You groan, pushing his hand away as you roll onto your back. The duvet slips down, revealing your bitten skin. He caresses it gently, his eyes glued to your face as he goes lower. Your hand catches his wrist before he can cup your breast, peeling your eyes open reluctantly.

"I can't let you near me, you'll fuck me into the mattress." You mutter, making him smile. "Maybe don't beg me to cum inside you, and I'll leave you alone." He holds up the plate in his hand, his chest swelling at your blushing cheeks. "I made breakfast, can you get up now? I want to pick your clothes!" Your eyes widen slightly as you sit up, letting the duvet pool around your belly button as you wipe at your inner corners. "Really? You want to?" "I love seeing you dressed up for work, babe. Can I? I'll make it pretty, I promise." He draws an x over his chest, and he notices how you can't bite back a smile as you take the plate from him. He turns away as you reach for the bedside lamp, clicking it on as he practically skips into your shared closet.

"You're really chipper…" You trail off, shoveling a peach slice into your mouth. He shrugs, holding up two shirts before putting them back. "It's your first day, and I read something a few years ago about marital ambiance. If I'm in a crappy mood, it'll rub off on you. We can't have that, can we?" He smiles widely as he pulls out a black dress you hadn't worn in ages – the sleeves were long and slightly flared, and the flowy skirt ended just above your knee. The neck was high, so you wouldn't be exposing any of your weekend shenanigans. "This one? Haven't seen this in, what, two years?" "We can try that one, yeah." You speak around a mouthful of oatmeal, and he nods as he turns to your shoes. "Are you walking a lot? Or can we go for the Hot Chicks?" He holds up the black leather heels, and you just smile and shake your head. "I'll take my slippers anyway, so we can go with the Hot Chicks." 

"I checked the temperature outside, it'll be a little chilly until lunch time. Do you want pantyhose? Stockings?" He drapes the dress over his arm as he worms out of the closet, placing your shoes on the dresser as he opens a drawer. You like the sight of your husband like this. Excited for you, eager to see you take a step forward after being (willingly) stagnant for so long. You were afraid that maybe he'd discourage it – you'd overheard him talking to Sunghoon once about how your last job nearly made you lose your mind, and how worried he'd been about you.

He wasn't wrong, either – the fact that your impact felt so minuscule just made you feel like you were at home away from home. It felt like your marriage at the time, it felt like you were sixteen again talking to your mother about your dreams and being shut down. It felt bad, ugly.

You finish your breakfast and get dressed as your husband gets ready, his suit jacket the exact same shade of black as your dress, his button-up that cherry red that makes you ache with want. His slacks are pressed, his hair carefully styled as he appears behind you moments later, holding a flat iron to your head.

"No curls today, babe?" He leans against the doorway, and you smile shyly. "No, I think I want something sleek. The curls are not looking too good this morning." "Yeah?" He's not listening, running his eyes down your backside. "Hee. Stop." "I'm just looking, baby." He smiles, and you ignore the way his eyes raking across you make you feel warm. "Well, stop looking. I can't be late, not today." "So, tomorrow?" He asks, and you scoff as you pull the iron down the last strand of hair, running over the ends twice before tossing it over your shoulder. You roll your eyes, unplugging the tool as your husband's hands run over your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze. Swatting his hands away, you leave the iron to cool as you turn around. 

"Heeseung, I'm serious." You're nose to nose with your husband, who only smiles down at you. "One kiss." "In the car, after my lipstick, when you drop me off." You propose, and he shakes his head. "Right here, right now, before your lipstick and you let me go down on you." "You're insane!" You laugh, pushing him out of the way – but not before he lands a soft smack to the swell of your ass. "Stop! Let me get ready!" "Fine, fine! I'll make coffee." He scoffs, turning on his heel and going down the hallway. 

You shake your head to yourself, wandering back into your bedroom and slipping your jewelry on. Small gold hoops, the same necklace you wore every single day. Your wedding rings, one silver ring with the letter H on your middle left, and one on your right pinky with Heeseung's and your birthstones. A watch that was a gift from your father on your graduation day, the leather band slightly worn and molded to your wrist.

You hear a soft whistle from the doorway, and look up to see your husband biting his lip. "Are you sure you can't be a little late?" "Dude." You roll your eyes, watching Heeseung set down your silver tumbler on the dresser. He slides behind you as you check your earrings carefully, pressing his hips into your ass. “Did you call me dude yesterday? Could’ve sworn it was another word that started with—”

“Heeseung, you’re on thin ice.” You glare at him through the mirror, feeling him grind against you. “It’s almost like I can still hear you.” He hums against your shoulder, pressing a quick kiss before moving your hair out of the way, trailing gently up your neck and nipping at your ear.

“Please, daddy. Want you so bad.” He mocks you, watching your expression change in the mirror. You huff, your cheeks burning as you look away. “Don’t be shy, it was cute. You’re cute, baby.”

“Stop.” You murmur, before feeling his hand gently tilt your face towards his. He kisses you deeply, moving his hand lower slowly. Squeezing your neck softly, you whimper into his mouth before he pulls away, biting your lower lip and watching it spring back. “We’ll run this back later, yeah?”

You nod, earning a smile and a chaste kiss. “C’mon. It’s almost six-fifteen.”

He pushes off of you, his hand lingering on your hip before he leaves the bedroom. You sigh shakily, your fingers fumbling for your lipstick as you hear him jingle his car keys. You shove it into your dress pocket, grabbing your shoes and coffee cup off the dresser and exiting the bedroom.

You shove your shoes on as you reach the foyer, watching Heeseung pull your coat out of the hall closet. “I prepped your bag before I made breakfast, can you check it?”

Everything is there. You let him slip your coat on, pressing a kiss to your cheek and carefully fixing your hair. “What time are you off?”

“I’ll call you?” You say, and he nods. “Ten minutes before?”

“You got it.”

Neither of you say much else as you take a deep breath, opening your front door and stepping out together. You hold Heeseung’s sleeve as he locks the door, your other hand gripping the tumbler he prepared for you.

He turns, interlocking your fingers with his and bringing your knuckles to his lips. “You ready?”

You smile nervously, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Heeseung dropped you off a minute to seven, and even walked you to the doors of your clinic. He waited patiently as you applied your lipstick, puckering his lips cutely for his kiss goodbye. You pressed another to his cheek for good luck.

The day went smoothly. Your first two patients were two young men, both in their early twenties. One with dyed blond hair, the other with a dark brown perm. Both had tired eyes and chapped lips, bitten fingernails. The blond had a tattoo of a girl’s name on his forearm, the brunet two rings through his eyebrow.

Heeseung’s habit of jotting down small details has rubbed off on you.

Your last patient was set to arrive any minute, and you found yourself feeling uneasy. You kept changing the music you played, settling on Paradise by Sade. You smoothed the felt on the patient couch several times, even drawing a pattern in the fabric before hearing the soft knock on the door.

“Come in!”

A woman opens the door a crack, dark brown eyes peering in. Thickly lashed and lined with kohl, she presses her lips into a thin line before opening the door wider. You stand, smoothing your dress before offering your hand.

“I’m Dr. Lee. You must be—”

“I’m Jeon Chaeyoung. It’s on my file.” She mutters, bypassing your extended hand. She sits on the edge of the couch, and you brush it off. A lot of patients were standoffish at first — getting comfortable with someone you were going to share your problems with was always something difficult, you understood that.

“Yes, I know. I’m glad to meet you, I—”

“Can we just get into it? I don’t want all the formalities.” She cuts you off, and you try not to look discouraged as you settle into your chair. “Of course. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

She sighs, picking at her maroon polish. Something about her is off, something is oddly familiar, but you don’t know what. You notice her widow’s peak has been shaved off, and her teeth are a little too well shaped not to be veneers. 

“Well, I’m twenty-eight. I dropped out of university when I was nineteen, and I left my hometown at the same time. Haven’t spoken to anyone since, and I moved to this town last year with my husband.”

You nod slowly, tapping your pen against your notepad. You glance at her file, seeing that she had a few name changes in the last three years. Twice — Jeon Chaeyoung, before that she was Cha Chaeyoung.

Before that, Cha Soyoung.

You choke on your saliva, coughing harshly into your fist. She looks startled, her hands out as you reach for the pitcher of water on the coffee table. You pour shakily, coughing off the side before picking the glass up and taking a sip.

“S-Sorry, sorry. Had a little something. You moved here last year?”

Her eyes are suspicious as you pour another glass for her, sliding it across the table. She takes it tentatively, taking a small sip before holding it in her hands.

“Yeah. I…ran away, I guess. I felt so much pressure from everyone around me. My mother wanted me to be a bigshot lawyer, my father wanted me to take over his company on top of that. My best friend…” She trails off, and you hope she can’t sense how nervous you are. 

“He…ugh. He was so patient and understanding, and he tried so hard to understand me. He was there for me through every bad moment of my life — my mother pressing me to be successful, my father wanting me to take over his company. I couldn’t handle it.”

“So you left. You left everything behind and you started anew.” You say slowly, and she nods, her eyes teary. “I even changed my name. I knew he would look for me, I just disappeared without telling anyone. I think he gave up, but I still…”

She wipes at her nose, and you quickly offer tissues from the table. She takes a few, dabbing at her eyes before the kohl can run. She has the same look in her eyes as your first two patients — tired, scared. Even a bit…remorseful.

“I got surgeries to change the way I look, you know. I have a nose job, can you tell?” She turns to the side, and you can. You can tell, the way her nose no longer has the soft button look, but the straight bridge with pointed tip. But she doesn’t know you know that.

“Not that you’d know, sorry.” She laughs nervously, balling the tissues in her hands. You smile warmly at her. “I got my teeth done. And I even got half a syringe of filler in my lips.”

She puckers them, the clear gloss still shiny against the pink skin. You nod, “They look good, though. How do you feel about the changes? Do you feel more confident?”

She shakes her head, “No. I did it…to hide, I guess. I didn’t want my best friend to find me, I didn’t want anyone to find me. I went into hiding as long as I could, hoping my parents would just forget about me.”

“Mmh. I saw your file, and you said you’ve…changed your name. Why, exactly? Did you want to leave behind the person that was…Soyoung?” You tap the file, trying not to show the way her name makes your tongue taste sour, and she sighs. “They opened a Missing Persons case for me. It made everything a lot harder, you know? I just wanted to disappear and start a new life doing something menial. I know it sounds stupid—”

“Stupid?” You scoff, crossing your legs. “Nothing you feel is stupid, Chaeyoung. Everything and anything you’ve ever felt is valid. The need to run when things get too stressful, wanting to hide away from societal pressures. Everything, it’s valid.”

She lets out a shaky sob, covering her mouth as she breathes in. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry! You’re just a human being. No one can get upset at you for not knowing how to navigate everything, this is your first time on Earth.” You shrug, and she peers up at you through teary eyes. “Can you tell me about yourself? M-Maybe it’ll be easier to get comfortable.”

“Sure!” You smile, eager to give her an update on Heeseung, despite her not knowing. “I’ve been married for seven years. I met my husband when we were nineteen, and we started dating a little after that. I was a stay-at-home wife for the last few years, because my job…”

She stares at you intently, and you rub your neck. “I didn’t feel fulfilled. My mother, quite like yours, had a lot of pressure on me. I was her only daughter, and she wanted so much. She wanted me to marry for money, and she wanted me to pursue a law degree.”

You smile sadly, and she nods. “Did you marry for money?”

“Not at all. I made more than my husband did in my first year as a therapist.” You laugh, remembering how you and Heeseung cheered as the two of you finally had enough saved for a new mattress. It was a silly stepping stone but the two of you were ecstatic.

“What does your mom think of you now? Do you keep in contact with her?” She tilts her head at you, and you shrug. “I don’t care what she thinks, and she doesn’t speak to me. She works distantly with my husband, so he sees her more often than I do. She’s an attorney for the city we live in.”

Chaeyoung nods, slowly. She pulls her phone out, typing quickly and scrolling before turning her screen towards you. It’s a picture of her and Heeseung smiling as kids. They’re dressed as Team Rocket from Pokémon, posing with V-signs next to their winked eyes.

“This is him. He’s my best friend. I haven’t spoken to him since I left.” She sniffles, and you can’t hide the way your smile falters. You feel your stomach sink a bit, realizing that she would always know Heeseung far more than you ever would. She grew up with him, she matched Halloween costumes with him. She held his hand trick-or-treating, she dyed his hair for the first time in grade nine. 

She kissed him when they were seventeen, for the first time ever.

“Are you okay?” She asks, pulling her phone away. You nod quickly, “Yeah, yeah. Sorry, I just had some memories. I was super into Pokémon as a kid, but I moved around a lot and could never make friends over it.”

It’s not a lie. You collected the cards, played the video games, and watched the Indigo League.

“Do you and your husband have kids? My husband wants to have kids soon.” She mentions, and you shake your head. “No, not yet. We talked about it yesterday, actually.”

You had, in depth. While you were eating the shitty takeout from the diner down the road, he’d asked you. You admitted that you were open to having kids, but wanted to fix your marriage first. He agreed, but mentioned that getting off your birth control would take time to get used to. You nodded in response, saying you’d make an appointment with your doctor and the two of you could go from there.

“But us, first. Okay?” He’d said, holding his pinky out to you. You’d smiled and linked your fingers, “Us first.”

“This is my husband. His name is Jungkook.” She pulls up a photo of a particularly tattooed man, pressing his lips to her temple. He has a lip ring, and several rings through his ears. “He’s cute! Do you feel loved? Fulfilled?”

“Funnily enough, I do. I don’t feel any of the stress or pressure to be…perfect. He…gets me. He engages me, he makes me laugh. We dance together a lot, he sings me to sleep.” She nods, smiling at the photo. “Can I see your husband? Or is that too far?”

You try not to show your hesitation, but the words tumble out before you can stop them.

"Maybe next time, yeah?" She nods quickly, a blush spreading across her cheeks. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable–" "Not at all! My husband is just particular, you know. His job stops him from really being a prolific person." You smile, shaking your head as you tap your notepad. It's true, you and Heeseung hardly posted things about yourselves or your relationship on social media. Your friends were all very private due to the nature of their jobs, and it'd do you well to follow that.

The rest of the session goes on without many more slip-ups. She focuses on telling you about her relationship with her husband, how he proposed. Their intimate elopement in his hometown, with just his friends and their girlfriends. You can't count how many times you heard her mention a couple named Jimin and Jeongyeon.

You can't focus on anything but the color of her eyes. How deep they are, how much of her story they hold. You're certain Heeseung would be able to figure her out in a split second, just by looking into them.

"You're very good at this, you know." She says as she tugs her jacket on, and you don't remember her ever taking it off. The hour she booked is almost up, and she looks a lot lighter than when she came in. You can feel the weight of her confessions, the weight of knowing she was alive and well after years of searching for her on your own shoulders.

You don't know if, or when, you should, or could – tell your husband.

"Good at what?" You tilt your head, and she gives you a quizzical look. "At creating a nice environment to share my struggles. I know I mostly talked about my husband, but…it felt nice. To tell someone about him and not have them tell me they already know that about him." You smile inwardly, knowing exactly what she means. "Yeah. My husband…his best friends are also mine. Can't really talk about all his weird little habits without them knowing exactly what I'm talking about." "Oh? You don't have friends of your own?" She tilts her head, and you laugh. "I mean, yeah. But I tend to spend most of my time with my husband. It's like…a really good amusement park. I wanna go on all the rides with him, you know?" She smiles, but you see a slight flash of judgment in her eyes. Feeling your cheeks burn, you clear your throat, closing her file and putting it on the table. "Should I expect to see you here next week, Chaeyoung?" "I'd like that, Dr. Lee. My husband said he'd wait for me, so I'm going to go ahead and relieve him." She nods, before standing. You do as well, walking her to the entrance. She turns on the steps, "Thank you for listening to me." "Any time, Chaeyoung." You bid her a goodbye, watching as she walks out of the clinic with her hands in her pockets to a black station wagon. Leaning on your doorframe with your arms crossed over your chest, you see her husband get out, seeing the way he towers over her. He smiles down at her, tucking her hair behind her ear before pressing a kiss to her forehead. You can make out his lips asking How was it? 

And her own saying I'm coming back next week. I really like this one, honey.

You feel your chest ache as he opens her door, pressing another kiss to her cheek as she pulls her seatbelt on. He shuts the door, and circles back to the driver's side. He looks up, catching your eye. He tilts his head, before smiling and opening his door. He gives you a quick wave, and you put your fingers up as he reverses out of his parking spot.

It looked so easy for them.

She looked so easy to love, he looked so eager to love her. Did people look at you and Heeseung that way, too? Did they think that about you? Sighing, you turn into your office, stretching your arms over your head. You moved around, tidying up as the music you played switched to something that reminded you more of your husband – specifically, No Song Without You by HONNE.

He'd played this song almost every day when the two of you began dating. You remember this song playing in the restaurant you had your third date at. You remember this song playing in the car when he picked you up for your twentieth birthday. You remember this song playing when he asked you to be his girlfriend, and ending just moments before he kissed you for the first time. You remember this song playing when he took you out to the flower field he proposed in. You remember his teary eyes as he knelt down before you, one of the biggest displays of emotion you'd ever seen in him. Most of all, you remember him saying there is no him without you.

You don't realize you've been standing in the same spot for the last two minutes until you hear your phone ring on the desk. You rush to it, picking up the call before even looking at the caller ID.

"This is Dr. Lee." You say, fumbling with Chaeyoung's file and the cabinet. You open it before hearing your husband snort on the other end. "Hello, Dr. Lee. This is Lieutenant Lee, I'm calling on behalf of your taxi service." "Yah! You're not my taxi." You scoff, shoving the file into the J section. He laughs, "I'm outside, baby. You didn't call, so I got worried. I picked up something light, are you almost done?" "Shit, I'm sorry. D'you want to come inside? I still have things to wrap up." You screw your eyes shut, your fingers rubbing at your temples. "Yeah, sure. I'll be right there."

It doesn't take long for your husband to appear at your door, holding his badge in his hand as you type on your computer. You give him a quizzical look, before turning back to the screen. "Did the janitor give you a hard time?"

"You could say that." He shakes head, setting his keys and phone down on your coffee table. He's holding the bag of food in his hand, and you gesture to the room. "It's nice, isn't it?" He looks around, putting the bag on your desk before opening it. "It's a lot bigger than your old office. I like the green…is that Take Me by Miso?" His ears perk at the new song playing through the speakers, and you sigh, nodding your head as you slump in your chair. He nods along to the song before rounding the desk, and pressing a kiss to your hairline. "You don't look very happy, honey. Did something happen?" His hands find your shoulders as he stands behind you, and you move your mouse all over the screen. "Nothing, I'm just rebooking a patient. She…something about her. I don't know." You know your conscience won't let you hide this from Heeseung very long. Granted, you're protected by the law if you do tell him, and it's the right thing to do.

Something in your heart doesn't feel right.

"Jeon Chaeyoung." He reads, and you nod. "Jeon Chaeyoung." "What's her deal?" He asks, making you pout up at him. "If I tell you, I'm violating our patient-provider contract." He gives you a confused look, before leaning down, brushing a kiss to your cheek. "I'm sensing a but, here." You sigh, exiting the schedule and turning the monitor off. "Let me make a scenario for you, yeah?" You stand, kicking your heels off as you walk onto the carpet under the coffee table. He nods slowly, before moving to the patient couch, taking a seat as you pace.

"Let's say, you're looking at someone in a line-up, yes?" You turn to him, and he nods. "Okay. What am I looking for?" "Something familiar. You know the perpetrator and you've known them for ages. I mean, damn near your entire life." 

Heeseung's eyes scan your face, before humming. He leans back, resting his elbows against the back of the couch. "We have a saying about eyes, I guess. That they never lie, you know. Eyes are the windows to the soul and what not." 

"So if I show you a picture of me and a bunch of other people, and cover everything but our eyes, you'd know which one I am?" You feel like you're starting to sound a bit like a maniac, but your husband nods. "Of course I would. I love your eyes. I look at them all the time."

You nod quickly, before breathing out shakily. "When you were nine, what did you dress up as for Halloween?" "What?" He scoffs out a laugh, "What does that have anything to do with what we were just talking about?"

You kneel in front of him, and he sits up quickly, taking in your serious expression. "Babe, what is going on?" "Did you match with Soyoung?" You murmur, picking at his slacks. "Were you Jesse from Team Rocket?"

Heeseung's brow furrows as he takes your hands, the clink of your rings grabbing your attention. "Y/N?" "It's her. She changed her name and she changed her face but it's her, Hee. I know it is, I can tell by her eyes and she showed me the two of you dressed up for Halloween as kids. That picture your mom has framed in her office." You squeeze your eyes shut, sinking back from him. His fingers squeeze yours gently before he scoffs. "Y/N…Honey, I really, really need you to think about what you're telling me right now." "I am, Heeseung! This is just as important to me, you know that! Countless sleepless nights, thousands of posters put up every single weekend just for her to waltz into my office today and tell me about her life!" You rip your hands from his, standing and walking to the file cabinet. You fish her file out, opening it and thrusting it into his hands.

He takes it reluctantly, his eyes scanning the file with a frown on his lips. 

Emergency Contact: Jeon Jungkook –  Cell: 010-1997-090 Work: 010-2013-0613 Relationship to Patient: Spouse

"She's married." He mumbles, flipping to the next page to her insurance information. He sees her name changes, before and after her marriage. His tongue pokes his cheek gently as you sit next to him, your ankles crossed as you sigh.

"This is rather anticlimactic." You mumble, leaning your head against his shoulder. He hums in response, thumbing the print of her electronic signature. "She never used to write her C's like this." He flicks the file, before closing it. "What happens now?" Your voice is no higher than a whisper, and you feel him sigh before leaning his head on yours. "Nothing. Legally, she doesn't have to report her reappearance. She's an adult." You look up at your husband, who has a surprisingly underwhelmed look on his face. He's nibbling on his lip as he gently tosses the file onto the coffee table. You rest your chin on his shoulder, scanning his face before he looks down at you.

"You seem tired." You say softly, and he closes his eyes. "I am. I'm so tired, honey." "You don't feel any sort of way about this? I can refer her to another clinic. I can–" "I just want to go home, Y/N." He shakes his head, his arm coming to wrap around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. You allow it, moving to sit in his lap and feeling his hands drop to your waist. "I don't have…I can't…" You look down at him, seeing the way he angrily blinks back tears as he tries to find the words he needs. Your hands gently cup his cheeks as he sighs frustratedly, burying his face in your chest. You can feel your stomach flip as he tries to breathe deeply, his shoulders tight as you wrap your arms around them. He sniffles, resting his forehead on your clavicle, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Is it wrong to be angry at her?" He mumbles shakily, and you quickly shake your head. "No. She left, and she told me it was willingly. She came back, just a thirty-minute drive from home and she didn't tell you. You're allowed to be upset." "Then why do I feel shitty about it?" His voice trembles as he looks up at you, teary eyes full of resentment and bitterness, but behind it all is a 19-year-old boy who lost his best friend from night to the morning. You coo softly, your thumb moving to swipe under his eye as he pouts.

"Because you wanted things to be different. Finding out she's okay through me…probably wasn't the way you imagined it'd happen. Maybe you had an idea of her showing up to the precinct, or to your parents' house looking for you. Maybe you saw that she's married to someone else and it hurts you, maybe you have some underlying feelings." You shrug, not noticing the way your husband's eyes narrow at your words.

"Y/N, are you hearing yourself right now?" He scoffs, gently pushing you away from him. His hands rest on your thighs, nibbling on the corner of his lip as you give him a confused look. "What?" "Did you just seriously try and equate my feelings about this entire situation to me having some sort of weird fantasy about being with her?"

You blink twice, only for Heeseung to huff out a humorless laugh before gently removing you off his lap. He stands, grabbing his keys and wallet off the table before tapping the file. "Let's go home." "Hee–" "Let's go." He sighs, fingers grabbing the bag of dinner that you're sure had gone cold by now. He waits by the door as you gather your things, holding your coat in his hand as you slide your heels back on. "Heeseung–" "Turn around. It's cold outside." His voice isn't harsh or mean, but you can tell he doesn't want to speak unless it's absolutely necessary. You reluctantly let him slide your coat on for you, feeling his lips pressed to your temple quickly. He opens the office door, carefully pushing you out first and turning the lights off behind him.

"Can I drive?" You hold your hand out for the keys, and he sighs before dropping them in your hand. You walk quickly towards the exit, not bothering to bid the janitor a good night as you nearly threw the door open. You could feel your stomach turn as you reached the car, Heeseung still trailing behind you when his voice cut through the air.

"Walking that quickly won't get you away from this conversation, babe." You tongue your cheek, waiting for your husband to appear next to you in front of the SUV you shared. His hand squeezed your hip gently, before pulling you close. "What are you running from, hm?" The conversation where you tell me that our marriage is over and you want out because your best friend is back in the picture, you think. You shrug, shaking your head as he pulls open the driver's side door. He sighs as you skirt around him, pulling yourself into the seat without his help. He doesn't let you close the door, wedging himself in to buckle in your seatbelt for you.

"You say some really fucked up shit sometimes, you know." He murmurs, and you feel your cheeks hot as you reach around him to stick the keys in the ignition. His hand on your cheek stops you, forcing you to look at him. "I thought we said we'd work on this. On us." "I don't want to do this here." You reply shortly, not recognizing your own tone of voice as your husband's eyes widen before he tongues his cheek. "Fine." The drive is silent, the radio turned off by your fingers the moment you managed to get the car started. Heeseung sits in the passenger side, staring out the window with a tick in his jaw you'd only ever really seen a few times, but you remember most during your first fight. It'd been two days before your first anniversary, and it'd been over the dumbest thing ever – his phone dying and you freaking out when he showed up late to your early celebration. He'd apologized profusely but you didn't want to talk about it then, just like you don't want to talk now.

Heeseung is out of the car before you even manage to park fully, careful not to slam the door as he rounds the car, opening your door and taking your bag. You reluctantly let him help you down, and he takes the keys to open the door without a word. Your home is still warm and inviting, but something about the cold demeanors floating around the two of you makes it feel like you're not even there.

"Are you hungry?" He asks quietly, and you shake your head. "No." "You had lunch at noon, why are you lying?" He scoffed, pulling his jacket off as you tongued your cheek, "I'm not. You're just assuming things." "What is the problem, Y/N? Suddenly Soyoung…Chaeyoung reappears and you want to act like this? Did we not just have several lengthy conversations about fixing our relationship?" He grabs your elbow gently as you move to walk away, and you can't help but look at him with a frown on your face. "That was then, and this is now." "Why are you being like this? Babe." Heeseung pulls you toward him, and you huff in frustration as you try to weasel from his gasp. "You're acting like I'm some insecure housewife who needs you to coddle her. I'm not insecure, and even if I was, there's nothing you can do about it. Who cares? Why do you even care?" Heeseung gapes at you, before his hands circle your wrists so you can't move away from him. "Hello? Because I love you? Do I need another reason to want to understand why the woman I've been with for almost a decade is suddenly acting like she hates me?" 

"Me? Hate you? Be fucking serious." You scoff, and Heeseung's eyes narrow. "Then tell me what the hell is going on in your mind, because I'm not a mind reader. I cannot fix a problem if you don't tell me what it is." "Oh, but if I were Soyoung–" You start, but stop the moment his eyes meet yours. They're full of hurt and a hint of anger, a singular tear spilling from them before he drops your wrists with a click of his tongue. "Don't."

His voice is soft, and he pinches the bridge of his nose as he turns away from you, before shrugging his suit jacket off. He sighs shakily, and you feel your throat burn as you step out of your heels, placing them quietly on the shoe rack by the door. You purse your lips, taking a deep breath before turning on your heel, moving towards your bedroom before the tears spill from your eyes.

You didn't know what to do to stop the feeling of despair from clawing at you. And you felt stupid, thinking that you needed to even allow that feeling into your chest. You and Heeseung had spoken in depth on Sunday about your relationship – when you weren't pinned under him or vice versa. You talked about having kids, you talked about your parents, you talked about each other. He admitted to you that Dr. Bahng had told him to take some time off for the two of you before the year ended, and that he'd talk to his Captain about submitting the paperwork for a vacation sometime this week.

He admitted that he wholly believes marrying you was one of the best decisions he's ever made, and profusely apologized for his inability to cherish you the way you deserved. He held you closely as his promises to do better rained over you, and you promised the same.

He admitted to feeling his heart racing in his chest the day he met you, but was too consumed with guilt about Chaeyoung to ever bring it up, and his crush on you started developing soon after. He admitted that you made him overthink every step he took, every word he said – so much so that he figured it was just better to push you away than tell you about his feelings. The two of you recounted how Sunghoon made the two of you meet him at the campus cafe with the premise that he needed help on an assignment – only to ditch you with a frown, and figure your shit out falling from his lips as he left with Jake.

You brought up how he'd gaped at Sunghoon, and the way you awkwardly picked at your nails before confessing that you had a little crush on him. The way you rambled about knowing that his circumstances were really shitty, that you completely understood if he didn't feel the same, and that you were sorry Sunghoon put the two of you in this situation. Heeseung had only smiled as he nodded along to your words, before abruptly interrupting you to ask if you were free that following Friday. You had been, and he picked you up at seven for a date – an arcade, where the two of you jokingly did a Love Test-O-Meter and got the highest level. The two of you had scrunched your noses, but you both had deep blushes across your cheeks as the other patrons woo'd you. After, you went back to his dorm and ordered takeout, before promptly getting intoxicated on a bottle of gin stolen from Jay and watched horror films for hours before you passed out on his bed holding hands.

The rest? History.

You're struggling to pull your dress zipper down when Heeseung enters the room, his fingers gently tugging the zipper down your back without a word. You hear the gentle jazz music playing in your living room as he shuffles towards the closet, unbuttoning his shirt before hanging it back up. His hand reaches for one of the towels on the shelves, before taking another out and placing it on the bed.

A silent invitation to join him in the shower, if you so felt like it.

You hesitated, watching the way he gathered his pajamas and tucks them under his arm, the urge to follow after him far too strong as you stepped out of your dress, letting it pool on the floor. You kicked it away with a huff, before stripping entirely and grabbing the towel and your robe off the back of your bedroom door. You linger at the bathroom door, hearing the water start to pour and the sound of the shower curtain being pulled open. You walk in silently, setting your things down on the counter as Heeseung undid his belt, hanging it up on the hook by the door. You make a mental note to take it out when you leave, he'll forget it and not wear it for weeks until he sees it again. He tilts his head towards the shower as he peels off his undershirt, signaling for you to get in while he gets undressed.

The water is hot against your skin, and you close your eyes with an inward sigh. He steps in moments after, before tilting your head back just slightly so the water can cascade through your hair. Your hands instinctively move to touch him, but you retract back to your sides. He gently takes them, wrapping them around his waist like you usually do.

He doesn't say anything as he washes your hair gently, your eyes closed so as to not take in the image of your husband's slightly swollen eyes. His fingers card through your hair smoothly, before you feel his lips on your forehead. 

"I love you. Don't say it back. Don't say anything." You don't, but you're sure he sees the tear that slips from your eye as you nod silently. It comes so easily to him now. So, so easily to let you know how he feels about you. It makes you weak in the knees.

The rest of your shower is like that, his lips brushing chaste kisses all over your face as he repeats himself over and over, I love you, I love you, I love you. Your tears are hot as they continue to spill, and you finally slip out of the shower when he asks you to take the extra pillows off the bed – his final kiss to your lips after carefully washing your face for you.

You do as he asks, taking your decorative pillows and piling them in the closet like you usually do. You silently get dressed for bed, not bothering with your skincare – you'll just cry it off. Your hair is still damp when you lie down in one of your husband's old shirts and a pair of Spiderman briefs you stole from him years ago. He quietly turns all the lights off but leaves the music playing in the living room, before walking into the bedroom as he pulls his shirt over his head.

Your vision is blurry as you look up at him, his face illuminated by the evening moonlight. He sighs as he sits on your side of the bed, his hand sliding under the duvet to rest on your thigh. "Come dance with me." You blink a few times, staring at him before closing your eyes, shoving the duvet to the side and swinging your legs over the side of the bed. He stands, taking your hand in his and making you follow him to the living room.

You hear the opening notes of Unchained Melody by The Righteous Brothers – yet another song from your wedding – as Heeseung pulls you into him, planting a soft kiss to your hairline as his hands find home on your lower back. You exhale into his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken as you slide your hands under his shirt, resting them high on his back. 

"I love you, I'm sorry." You mumble as he sways the two of you gently, and he hums in response.

"I need you to know that I've never had feelings for Chaeyoung." He says clearly, and you close your eyes. "I've never had feelings for her, in any way that wasn't platonic. There are plenty of reasons she and I never got together after she kissed me when we were teenagers. Not that they matter, because all that matters is that I didn't feel the same, I never have and I never will." You don't respond, feeling your eyes sting with tears.

"It's only ever been you for me. I've never once thought back to when we started dating and thought that I'd would’ve been better off with anyone else. I've never wanted anyone that isn't you, and I think that is equally as beautiful as it is terrifying. In lieu of you, who? I'd have no first love without you, you’re the only love I want." "I'm sorry." You whisper as your tears soak into his shirt, and he pinches your hip lightly. 

"I'd genuinely be nothing without you. You are the most patient, loving person I've ever met. No one makes me want to be a better man like you do. I feel sick every time I have to get out of bed and go to work, but I remind myself that you only deserve the best. This house, our things, what I hope I can provide for our future kids…it can only be the best. So, I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry for giving so much importance to the future, which isn't a bad thing in itself. But, I've ignored my present. You're a gift from life, I've ignored you and it pains me to know I've caused you so much distress. So much so that you resort to feeling like this, like I'd ever leave the love of my life, the love for my life, for someone else."

His hands find your face, cooing at the pout on your lips as he gently wipes your tears. "I meant everything I said this weekend, too. I could never ask for a better woman, not when I have you." You only let out a sob in response, your husband cuddling you into his chest as he turns the music off when the song changes. He rubs your back as he moves the two of you back to the bedroom. He only separates from you to slide under the covers, but pulls you flush to his chest and envelopes you tightly in his arms.

"I love you so, so endlessly. Please don't ever doubt that again." He sighs shakily, pressing his lips to your temple as you bury your face in his neck. "I love you, Hee."

Friday, 3:40pm.

It'd been three weeks since you told Heeseung about Chaeyoung's return, and she'd become a regular patient at your clinic. She told you more about her husband, her friends, and how she missed Heeseung. She asked you about your life, and you did everything to avoid mentioning names, even going as far as avoiding certain questions. You kept Heeseung updated with everything, and the more you told him…

…The more disinterested he became. It was odd to you, but you said nothing as he changed the subject, as he rolled his eyes, as he kissed you in the middle of your sentences. 

Heeseung also made it a point to drop you off and pick you up from work every day, insisting he enjoyed it. He made your breakfast and picked your clothes, and it was like every morning was a challenge to see if he could convince you to take a trip to the bedroom in your work clothes. He'd succeeded twice, and you were late to work both times. He hadn't been successful since, earning soft swats of your hand and gentle shoves.

However, this morning – you did it all on your own. Heeseung had recently taken on a new case and it was cutting into his sleep. He came home not even an hour before you woke up, several apologetic calls and texts throughout the night before you fell asleep at midnight without him.

You tucked him in, planting kisses across his face as you shrugged your coat on. He didn't stir, and you packed his breakfast and lunch and left it on the table. You took the long way, playing the same soft jazz station he did every morning.

One of your patients had called to reschedule, so you'd have an early afternoon home. You got a text from Heeseung moments after arriving at the clinic, complaining about why you didn't wake him up to take you – only for him to call you at noon and say he'd barely gotten up for work. You'd laughed and teased him about thinking he'd be able to take you to work when he clearly needed the rest, only to hear Sunghoon tell your lovebird of a husband to get off the phone and focus.

It'd been nearly four hours since then, and you were about to wrap up with Chaeyoung.

"I found him on social media, you know. His mom posted a congratulatory post, he works in the same town. He's a lieutenant at the Seventh Precinct." She picked at her nails, a frown on her lips as you try not to show your shock at her words. "Who, your best friend?" "Yes. He's married now, too. I couldn't find anything about her, though. His parents didn't post anything about the wedding but a backshot of him and the bride." She sighs, and you think back. You'd both asked his parents to keep it private, and they both chose that photo to post across their social media to boast to their friends. You'd appreciated it so deeply that you bought them a rice cooker for Christmas that year.

"Do you plan on going to see him at some point?" You ask smoothly, refilling her glass of water as she shrugs. "I planned on going today, actually. I'm just…nervous. I had a friend drop me off today, and I'd be going alone. I feel like I'd need a support system." "I can go with you, if you'd like. I'm headed that way anyway." The words tumbled out before you could stop them, and her eyes widened with surprise before she smiled. "You'd do that?" "Of course. This is a big step for you, you know? I'd just have to make some calls, I know that precinct happens to be rather finicky with visitors." You shrug, feeling the pit in your stomach grow deeper as you wonder how you're going to tell Heeseung. She nods excitedly, and you excuse yourself, walking down the hall so nothing can be heard through the door.

The line rings three times before Heeseung picks up.

"Hey, baby. What's up?" "You can't be mad at me. Promise you won't get mad." You rush out, and he laughs. "I won't be mad. At least, I don't think I'll be. Are you okay?" "She wants to meet you. She said she's going over there today, and my stupid ass offered to drive her over because I'm going home early, anyway." You're wincing as the line goes silent, before your husband sighs. "Oh, babygirl." You can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose, the particular pet name only really slipping when he's stressed. "I'm sorry, honey." "No, no. It's fine, just..let me get some stuff settled, I'll let Minseo know to let you through without issues." He trails off, before another sigh is heard. "Does she know we're married?" "She found that back shot from our wedding. She doesn't know it's me." You sigh shakily, and your husband only echoes it back. "Alright, I'll let the guys know. Will you be in the room? I don't think I can do this alone." "Yes, of course. I won't be there as your wife, though, if that's…fine. Just think of it as that one time we roleplayed."

Your husband snorts, "Babe, that was the most awkward thing ever." "Because you can't hold character! But don't worry, we'll spin that one back someday." You hum affirmatively, earning a soft laugh. "I love you, baby. I'll see you in what, thirty?" "I'd run red lights for you if it wasn't illegal and dangerous." You shrug, despite him not being able to see you. He's probably rolling his eyes, a click of his tongue coming through the phone. "Be good, honey. I'll see you. Love you." "I will. Love you." You shoot a few texts off to the other detectives as the line hangs up, before sliding back into your office and seeing Chaeyoung sprawled across the couch with her arm over her eyes. "You alright in here?" Your soft chuckle startles her, and she straightens quickly, brushing her hair out of her face. "Sorry, I'm nervous." "Not to worry. They know me well, so don't be startled if anyone says anything." You smile as you grab your coat, before floating over to your computer and clicking around. "Ready to go? We can even stop and get a little drink for the drive." "You're such a girl, I love it." She giggles, and you feel your stomach sink as you shake your head with fake amusement. You feel awful lying to her – she'd been so open and honest, warming up to you incredibly fast. She eagerly bounces alongside you as you walk to your car after gathering your belongings and locking your office, slipping into your passenger seat as you quickly buckle yourself in.

The ride is full of nervous chatter from her and you drop your guard a bit, opting to talk to her about Heeseung through memories. You tell her about your first date, and she's amused, telling you about her first date with her husband – talking about how the two of them wound up getting lost in Busan because he'd forgotten his way around a smaller part of town. You only smiled throughout.

You arrived at the precinct with an iced coffee from a shop a block away, Chaeyoung holding an Americano as she nervously chewed her lip. You spoke to Minseo softly, your eyes pointed as she nodded – it seemed Heeseung had vetted everyone before your arrival. "Go ahead, Dr. Lee. Lieutenant Lee should be in his office, his schedule is clear for the afternoon." "Thank you, Minseo. Take a break soon, okay?" You give her a warm smile and this time, she returns it, before printing your visitor stickers and giving one to Chaeyoung. Her fingers tremble as she sticks it on her denim jacket, and you see Sunghoon staring intently in your direction before you give him a dirty look.

"Dr. Lee! Good to see you, it's been a while." He wanders over, draping his arm over your shoulders as you try not to groan in annoyance. "Detective Park, always a pleasure." "Sunghoon?" You hear Chaeyoung whisper, and he glances over at her with a mock look of surprise. "Yes? Do I know you?" She opens her mouth, but you quickly shake your head, reaching for her hand. "Later. I promise you'll have time."

"Sorry." She mumbles, but she looks over her shoulder at Sunghoon for a bit as you walk through the precinct. You note the way her eyes widen at the sight of Jake and Jay, their serious faces contorting to ones of confusion at her longing glances. They all pretend like their hearts aren't racing out of their chests as you knock on Heeseung's door, hearing an affirmative sound to come in.

"Lieutenant Lee." You poke your head in, squeezing Chaeyoung's hand in yours as your husband looks up. You fight the urge to say he looks handsome in his white button down and blue suit jacket, but he stands before you can say anything else.

"Dr. Lee, always a pleasure to see you. How can I help you?" He opens the door further, and you can almost hear the way he thanks his years of training for the stoicism on his face as he sees Chaeyoung. You pull her into the office as he steps out of the way, her eyes wide as you sit her down and quickly close the blinds, sticking your tongue out at Sunghoon for good measure.

You almost forget Heeseung has a few photos of you on his desk, and you look over your shoulder to see them all facing the wall behind his chair. You nearly sigh in relief, but clear your throat instead as you sit next to Chaeyoung. Heeseung smiles softly, checking his watch.

"How can I help you, ladies? Oh, I'm Lieutenant Lee Heeseung. At your service." He extends his hand, noting the way hers trembles as she takes it. He gives it a firm shake, before glancing at her again. "You look…kind of familiar. Have we met before?" "I can't." She whispers, her hand gripping onto the sleeve of your coat as you nod, before clearing your throat. "It's okay. You want me to talk?" She nods without a word, and you give Heeseung a pleading look. "So, we have a bit of a…predicament." "Right, as one would assume." He nods slowly, and you note the way he nervously chews his lip before taking a seat on the opposite side of the couch. "Are you in danger, or some sort of trouble?" He clicks a pen from his pocket, opening a drawer from the side table to take out a notepad.

"More like we have some answers to a case that went cold a few years back." You hear him hum, the pen not touching the paper as he looks up. "Alright, should I pull up some records?" "If you'd like, but it was a Missing Persons case you were involved with. Do you remember when we talked about it when we first met? The Cha Soyoung case?" "Ah…right. Right." He clears his throat, and you can see the tears beginning to well in his eyes as he blinks them back. "That case has long been dry, with lots of dead ends. Everyone in the precinct is familiar with it. Last update was, what, three years ago? Some sightings a few miles away." "Lieutenant, this is Jeon Chaeyoung." You introduce her properly, her eyes peering at him over your shoulder. He blinks, nodding slowly. "Formerly known as Cha Soyoung." He tilts his head at your words, as if he didn't already know. He stares blatantly, and you make her scoot up a bit so he can get a better look at her face. His eyes scan her repeatedly, before he stands up and moves to his desk, opening a drawer and taking out one of the many missing posters you used to put up every week. He looks at it for a moment, and sighs shakily. "You know, I appreciate you coming by–" "Hee, it's me." She blurts, a few tears rolling down her face as you see a pained look on your husband's face. He nibbles on his lip, his eyes full of stress as he looks at you. She stands up, and Heeseung tongues his cheek as he shakes his head. "Soyoung had a widow's peak, and a birthmark on her neck." "Heeseung, please. I know you're upset, and I…I'm sorry. I've missed you..." She trails off, and you note the way he's near tears, looking away from her, the paper crumpling in his hand as he clears his throat. "Dr. Lee, can I see you outside?"

Chaeyoung gives you a look of despair, and you just pat her shoulder with an apologetic look as you watch Heeseung storm out. "I'll talk to him, don't worry." She opens her mouth to speak, but she just sighs. Nodding, she takes a seat, and you tighten your coat around you as you follow your husband out. He's in the break room a few feet away, and he nearly shuts the door with a slam as you slip inside. His arm reaches for you, pulling him into you roughly and squeezing you so hard you can't breathe for a moment. "I can't do this. I'm not strong enough, Y/N." His voice is unsteady, but you snake your arms around his waist with a hum. "You know, I was worried. I was beginning to think you were going to let this all just…go. You are strong enough, and you can do this.. I know this is scary, it's so overwhelming. I know you, though. You're Lee Heeseung, you don't give up on anything. It's been almost a decade and you've worked so hard to get here. Don't you want to see the fruit of your hard work?" Your voice is soft but stern, and your husband only whimpers pitifully into your shoulder. You coo, running your hand down the nape of his neck as you sway the two of you gently. "I love you, baby. I believe you can get through this. You deserve a happy ending to it all. So many years of stress won't be good for your hairline." He actually snorts at your joke, but the tears continue nonetheless as he moves away, pouting as he sits in one of the chairs. You wipe your hands on his cheeks gently, offering him a tissue from your pocket as you squat in front of him. "It's gonna be okay. I promise." "I don't want to make amends. I don't think I can forgive her for this." He sniffles, and you nod in understanding. "That's okay, too. You don't need to be her friend again, even if that's what she wants. You owe her nothing, and vice versa." "I love you." He whines, covering his face with his hands as you laugh softly. "I know, I love you too, Hee."

"No, seriously, I'd ask you to marry me again if we weren't already married." He grabs your hands quickly, and you nearly lose your balance as he jerks you forward, enveloping you in a crushing embrace. "Submit your vacation paperwork and we can renew our vows instead." "I love you so much!" He cries into your coat. You can't help but laugh out loud, a bit of shock running through you as you take in his very big emotional outburst. "I know, I know! Now please, get it together. We've got to get back, and you need to talk to her. The poor girl is vibrating out of her skin."

"Kiss me." He pouts, looking up at you as you stand. You roll your eyes. "After. Promise." "I need it for encouragement. Be the wind beneath my wings, babe." He begs, making you sigh. "One kiss, and keep your tongue in your mouth." "Two kisses to make up for the lack of tongue." He counters, and you smack his arm before pressing your lips to his. His hands instinctively hold your waist, your own moving to hold his cheeks gently. It's slow and sweet, and you pull away as his teeth nip at your lower lip.

“Stop that." You brush two more chaste kisses on his lips, a pout appearing as you squeeze his hand. "Come on, we have to." "I love you." He repeats for the umpteenth time, and you know he's finding comfort in knowing that you both feel the same and are there for moral support. "I love you, Hee. Now, let's go." The other detectives pretend they don't notice the way you hold his hand tightly as you both exit the break room, Heeseung ducking his head to hide his teary eyes as you open the door to his office. You pop your head in, seeing a rather disheveled Chaeyoung on the couch.

"How're we feeling?" You call gently, squeezing Heeseung's hand behind you before you let go. She gives you a thumbs down as she wipes her eyes, and Heeseung clears his throat behind you as he carefully slips past. She shifts as he does so, and you shut the door behind you. He sits across from her carefully, her eyes shimmering with tears as she peers up at you.

Heeseung does the same, before glancing at your wedding rings. They're snug on your finger, and you carefully thumb at them as you gingerly take a seat on the couch next to Chaeyoung. You give him a pointed look, and he sighs, running his hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry, Hee." She whispers, and he nods. "I'm sure." "I really am. You would've talked me out of it, I know you."

Heeseung's hands flex on his knees, "You could've talked to me, at least. You could've said literally anything. You just up and left and expected no one would care." "You don't get it, Hee. I felt so much pressure from everyone around me, I was so tired of pretending like I wanted any of that for myself. I didn't want to take over the company, you knew that." She tries to reason, but you can tell he's fighting himself from saying anything out of line as he takes a deep breath.

"It's always what I knew and what you knew, but you clearly forgot the fact that you were my best friend. Since we were kids, and the most painful part of this all is confirming that you didn't trust me that entire time. There's no coming back from this." 

She's silent as he picks at his nails, before she speaks softly. "Don't you at least want to know how I'm doing?" He scoffs quietly, folding his hands in his lap. "Sure. Tell me everything you've built for yourself while I've spent a decade agonizing about whether or not you're alive." His tone is harsh and you find yourself giving him a hard look, your jaw tight as she looks down. He doesn't apologize, and you find yourself speaking softly.

"A lot of big feelings here, hm? There's a lot of pain to get through, so…let's not take anything to heart right now." You nod, and Chaeyoung nods next to you as she clears her throat. Heeseung doesn't acknowledge it, opting to bounce his leg.

"I got married. I know you did too, right? During college?" She nods, and he clicks his tongue. 

"Heeseung, be nice." You say his name out of habit, his eyes snapping to you as you wince at your mistake. "Didn't know we were on a first-name basis, Dr. Lee." "You know what I mean." You roll your eyes, and Heeseung sighs. "Yeah, I got married in college right after I turned twenty-one. Seven years ago."

"You're awfully young to be a Lieutenant." She says softly, and he struggles not to roll his eyes. "Doesn't take much to get promoted when you're constantly mulling over cases and neglecting other things for someone who didn't want to be found. You could've called, you know."

"Could I have? Because it seems like you hate me for doing what's best for me." Her eyes are narrowed now, and he scoffs. "I think I'm allowed to hate you for all its fucking worth at this point. You abandoned me nine years ago, you just up and left without a word! Do you know how many birthdays I had to spend answering questions about you instead of celebrating with my loved ones? You know how many date nights I shoved aside with my wife because I was here, hoping I'd get a crumb of knowing that you're at least alive? Do you understand how much of my life has gone into this?!" Heeseung is starting to lose his patience, but it seems Chaeyoung had been ready to blow her top for years.

"What about me, Heeseung?! You think I liked always being on the fucking sidelines, waiting for you to notice me? I had to fucking disappear for you to care about me? For you to look my way even once, I had to uproot my entire life? Is that what it had to fucking come to?!" 

Your lips part at her words, Heeseung's eyes widening before they narrow. "Are you serious? That's what you want to attribute this to? I didn't reciprocate your feelings so now I'm the bad guy? You fucking left, instead of communicating with anyone. You made that decision, no one forced you to take that road." "I did what I had to, and the fact that you never wanted to be with me despite us literally being the perfect love story was just the cherry on top. It was my catalyst and I hope you know that I resent you for making me feel so undesirable." She huffs, and you clear your throat as Heeseung glowers. 

"I think…we've lost our way a bit. This was more about reconnecting, I assumed it'd be a bit more peaceful. The blame game gets us nowhere." You sigh, running a hand through your hair. Chaeyoung takes a deep breath, struggling not to roll her eyes before pulling her phone out. "This is my husband. You'd like him, he plays bass and he produces music for an entertainment company. His name is Jungkook, we got married two years ago." Heeseung gives you a glance, your eyes nervous as you breathe out.

"Everything alright?" He asks gently, and you know it's his way of asking if he can talk about you. Your eyes are nervous, but you nod anyway, playing with the hem of your dress. Chaeyoung gives you a once over, patting your knee with a smile. 

"I'm sorry, I know this must be stressful. I should've never taken your offer, Dr. Lee." "No, I think this was necessary, really. For the three of us." You shrug, attempting to appear nonchalant. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes as Heeseung clears his throat, standing up to grab the photo of you off his desk. It's you on your honeymoon – the two of you took it the summer after you graduated from college. You were wearing a white dress and it was one of the most picturesque candids in your collection. He gives you a waywards glance, but you only nod as he sits down.

"This is my wife. You'd like her, she plays piano and crochets and does cross-stitch. She's a therapist. Her name is Y/N, we got married seven years ago." He flips the picture, and you watch her eyes widen out of your peripheral vision. She takes it gently, her manicured thumb stroking your smiling face. She looks pale as she turns to you, her jaw tight.

"Chaeyoung, I'm sorry." You whisper, and she gives you a glare. "Are you? You knew this entire time and you let me open up to you about everything? Did you tell him, too? Did you tell everyone here?" Her voice only raises as she scoots away from you, and you feel your cheeks heat as you run a hand through your hair. "We spent years looking for you, Chaeyoung. There were so many sleepless nights, so many tears, so much stress over you. This is hard for me too, you know." "What, loving a man who is nothing but a shell of a person? Yeah, I'm sure you loved filling his fucking cup until it overflowed while he casted you aside." She sneers, and you feel your chest tighten. "I'm sure it felt great being stuck in your house, wondering when the fuck he'd be home because he was here. Looking at case files, talking to forensics, doing anything instead of being home with you." Your throat burns as you clear it, but Heeseung interrupts as he takes the photo of you back. "Chaeyoung, you're obviously angry. I can't blame you for that, but I also won't allow you to speak to Y/N like this. She's here to help both of us." "Yeah, well you can take your help and fucking shove it, Y/N." She huffs, gathering her coat from the couch cushion. You stand quickly, holding your hands out to deter her from leaving. "Chaeyoung, please let me explain–" "Explain what? How you're a lying bitch?" She spits, and Heeseung's eyes narrow as he opens his mouth to say something, only for you to wave him off. Your gaze is unreadable as she continues to berate you. "You want to explain why you let me agonize over Heeseung for three weeks, and how you listened to me tell you how I felt about him and said nothing? What kind of fucking therapist are you?" "A dumb one." You say softly, "I didn't tell you I was married to Heeseung because that's none of your business. Getting you involved in my personal life could be incredibly damaging to my career, but I did it because I've known about you since before I met Heeseung." Her eyes are aflame as she stares you down, but you don't budge.

"I don't fight over men. I never have, I never will. What I will do, though, is tell you that though I knew mixing my personal life and my career could be a disaster, I did it because I love Heeseung. You suffered, you left because of all the pressure you felt. I understand that pressure, too. I know what it's like for your family to expect something from you that you simply don't want to provide, or feel like you can't."

Her eyes well with tears as she looks away.

"Just as you suffered, though, we did, too." You gesture at the space between you and Heeseung, and he steps slightly closer. "I cannot tell you the nights we spent walking all over town and putting posters anywhere they'd allow us to. I cannot even begin to explain the stress everyone felt, all of your friends, all of your family members because you just disappeared. I wasn't your friend, and I didn't know you personally…but it affected me, too." A tear falls down her face, and you reach to wipe it with the sleeve of your coat.

"There were so many nights that I'd be in Heeseung's dorm just talking about you. He'd tell me so many stories, he's shown me so many photos of you together. He's told me every piece of your life that he knows, and you've sat in my office for three weeks and done the same for him. Things I already knew, and things I didn't." She silently sits back down, letting the tears drip down her face.

"I know it's painful, to want something or someone so bad and have it be just out of your reach. I know it sounds like I'm bragging, or maybe like I'm trying to rub it in your face but I promise I'm not. Loving Heeseung has not been easy, there were many times I wanted to give up. There were nights he'd be locked in the home office, overthinking himself into a bottle of bourbon." You laugh softly, taking Heeseung's seat across from her. He stands behind you, his hand running up and down your back.

"There were times I wanted to scream at him, I wanted to hurt his feelings because he made me feel neglected. He'd come home late, he'd miss dinner, he wouldn't be around to just hang out. You told me during our first session that you and Jungkook dance together all the time, that he sings you to sleep. I cannot tell you how envious I would have been, had I met you just a week earlier." 

Her gaze meets yours, surprised. "What?"

"I mean what I say and I say what I mean." Heeseung speaks up, his voice a lot softer. "I was not a good husband. I'm still not, but it's not your fault. It's my fault, I wanted so badly to know that you were at least okay that I completely neglected Y/N. I wasn't present, emotionally or physically." "I knew it wouldn't be easy, loving someone like Heeseung." You interrupt him, "I knew loving someone who had gone through something so gut wrenching would be one of the most difficult things I'd ever have to do. I wanted it so bad, Chaeyoung. I wanted to love him, and be the glue that held him together. I wanted to be the person he woke up with in the mornings and the person he kissed goodnight. I wanted to be there, no matter what it took." "So you allowed all of it." She murmurs, and you sigh. 

"I fought it. I didn't want to brave the storm that was Lee Heeseung in college. But like a moth to a flame, I stayed. I got hurt time and time again, but the good outweighed the bad so much. I saw so much potential, I saw so much kindness and I knew in my heart I could help it flourish. And now, we're here." "Don't you feel jealous?" She asks, making you smile sadly before nodding. "Of course I felt jealous. I knew there was a girl that knew my husband more than I ever would, and I envied that. I wanted to know everything there was to know, but I had to come to terms with the fact that it simply couldn't be. We're ever-evolving, and while you may have known each other for so many years…you've both changed so much." She closes her eyes, her chipped nails digging into the fabric of her peacoat. Heeseung's hand rubs circles into your back, before you feel him squeeze your shoulder. "I don't hate you." She says suddenly, her eyes on Heeseung. He clicks his tongue, "I don't expect you to. I haven't done anything to you to make myself worthy of hating."

"Why not me?" She mumbles, and Heeseung's eyes close as he pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Just tell me that." "I can't do that to you, Chaeyoung." He shakes his head, and you hear her scoff. "Just do it, it'll make getting over you a lot easier. I already know you're married, I'm not going to make a fucking move." "I wouldn't allow it, either." He says through gritted teeth, making you shift in your chair, clearing your throat. "Would you like for me to step out?" "No." They say in unison, and Heeseung holds onto your shoulders as he looks at Chaeyoung. "Don't you think your family wants to know you're okay? It's been nine years." "What, do you keep up with them? Do they care about anything else besides that stupid company now?" She rolls her eyes, her jaw tight as she stares at her boots. "Your father sold it." Heeseung speaks softly, "He sold it not even a week after you left. Your sister bought it from him and funded half of the search party that looked for you for a year." Her eyes stay narrowed as her lips purse. "Doesn't mean they care. It was always the company this, the company that. Just like you, Hee." She glares up at him, "Focus on school, Soya. Let's study, Soya. We got into college and you just stopped wanting to hang out like we used to." "I'm 'just like them' because I prioritized my studies? Because I was on scholarship while mommy and daddy paid your way? My fucking bad, Soya." He scoffs, making her scowl. "See? You're just like them." "You're ungrateful! You've always been so blind at how things were just handed to you, you were always so fucking out of touch with everything! Your father had an entire company, a collection of businesses that he sold because you just wanted to up and leave! I don't think you will ever understand how privileged your life has been, even in the years you've been gone." His laugh is humorless as he shakes his head, and you clear your throat. 

"I think maybe this has been enough for one day." "You don't get to decide that, Y/N. I still want an answer. Why. Not. Me." She's standing now, her face tear-stained but her eyes…they're full of fury. Towards who, you're not entirely sure anymore.

You look up at Heeseung, his jaw clenched as he runs a hand through his hair. "You just don't have what I need. I won't be with someone who can't make me feel fulfilled in all aspects of life, or someone who doesn't share the same goals as me. You don't see the world the way I do, and you never have." "And she does?" She gestures at you, her voice thick as her eyes gloss over once more. "Yes. She does. She is everything I could ever ask for and so much more than I will ever deserve." He folds his hands in front of him, "There is always going to be something in this life you cannot have, whether it be an object, a person, even a stick of gum. You can't hold onto that resentment forever, it will make you miserable. You shouldn't live your life that way, not when you have a husband who loves you and a life people would kill for. Not when someone you said was your best friend over and over has someone who loves him." She glares at him, her chest rising with shallow breaths. She shakes her coat off, pulling it over her arms and walking towards the door. Her hand wraps around the doorknob as she looks at the two of you, the tick in her jaw growing tighter as she sees you stand.

"You don't have to act like this, Chaeyoung. You don't have to keep running away, you'll never solve anything this way." "You're married to the man I've been in love with since I was six years old. You lied to me, knowing I was in pain about this entire situation, and you stand here and try to act innocent. You're just as guilty as I am, so you don't get to tell me how I get to act, Y/N." She whispers, a singular tear rolling down her face as she turns to Heeseung. 

"You can tell my parents, and whoever else you please. Y/N can give them my information. I won't be coming back to Seoul, and I won't be visiting your practice again. Do not contact me further, and I won't make a scene."

She throws the door open, revealing the gaggle of detectives bunched around the door. Sunghoon nearly falls into the office as they disperse like bugs, catching himself on the doorframe. Chaeyoung stares up at him, his own eyes flickering to you. "You okay in here?"

"Fine." Heeseung replies curtly, and Chaeyoung scoffs, pushing past Sunghoon with a scowl on her face. She stalks through the precinct, and Minseo stares wide eyed as she shoves Jay and Jake out of the way to the double doors. Your eyes never leave her, continuing to stare after her as the doors shut.

You hear a disappointed sigh from your husband, and you peer up at him as Sunghoon shuts the door with his lips pressed into a thin line. He looks a mess, and you move to comfort him as Jay opens the door. He strides in confidently, a quirk in his brow as he pulls his hand out of his pocket, a new pack of cigarettes in his hand.

"Shall we?" It doesn't take much convincing to get you and Heeseung out the backway of the precinct, and you find yourself resting your forehead against the rough brick of the building. Jay lights your cigarette, sliding it between your fingers as Heeseung lights his own. You mumble a thanks, before holding it between your lips.

"Long day, huh?" He starts, his words muffled as he holds his own between his lips, the flicker of the lighter catching your attention. You nod, pushing off the brick wall to face the two men. Jay gives you a once over, "New dress?" "Storage." You shake your head, blowing smoke from your lips as Heeseung paces back and forth. "How's your girlfriend?" "Not my girlfriend, just a fling. Cut her off a bit ago. Feeling good, though." He nods, and Heeseung walks by you, your hand reaching for him. He takes it, leaning against the wall as he pulls you to him. He spins you around, making you face Jay as he wraps his arm in front of you. "PDA? From Lee Heeseung?" Jay acts shocked as you snort, closing your eyes as you lean your head back onto his shoulder. "You'd be surprised what Lee Heeseung has been up to these days." "Mmh, do tell." He shrugs, flicking the ash off his cigarette. "Did you know sharing details of your sex life to your friends is considered inappropriate social behavior?" You smirk, and he raises his brow.

"Oh, don't tell me the people who have been married for seven years are fucking. Oh man, holy shit." Jay sarcastically rolls his eyes, holding his hand to his chest as if he were clutching pearls. "Like animals." Heeseung speaks for the first time since you stepped outside, making your eyes widen as Jay's do the same. You glance up at him, watching the way he throws the cigarette butt onto the floor and stomps it out with his foot. He plucks yours from your fingers, slotting it between his lips for a slow drag before giving it back. His lips have a layer of glitter on them from your lipgloss.

"Hee, you cannot say that." "Who cares? It's Jay. It's not like he's going to ask to watch us fuck." He shrugs, making your cheeks grow hot as you turn to Jay to apologize, who is looking away with red ears. Heeseung looks over, blowing smoke out of his lips as he speaks. "Dude." "You fucking brought it up, dickwad." Jay scoffs, before stomping out his own cigarette butt. You don't speak, opting to run a hand through your hair as Heeseung sighs.

"Did you guys hear anything through the door?" "Every word. Walls are thin, you know." Jay nods, offering another cigarette. Heeseung takes it, sighing as Jay hands him the lighter. "I cannot believe she's been in love with you since you were kids." "She's not in love with me, she's infatuated with the idea of me." He rolls his eyes, fiddling with the lighter. "Her parents used to fight in front of us all the time, and when we were seventeen she told me that she wanted something better than that. Admirable, truly, but she was never going to find that with me." He holds the blue flame to the cigarette, before handing it back to Jay. "Wasn't she your first kiss?" "Ugh, yeah. I only said yes because she kept talking about how Mina, you remember her sister Mina? Mina had her first kiss at sixteen." He rolls his eyes again, his arm around you tightening slightly as he leans his head back onto the building. "I think a part of me hates her." "That's valid." You and Jay say in unison, before Jay tilts his head for you to continue. You shake yours, shrugging as Heeseung continues to talk. "She always pushed for us to become more and I just didn't want that. She lacks so much compassion, and that's why her father wanted her to take over the company. She's cold and calculated and that's why I befriended her in the first place, because no one wanted to be her friend. She was mean to everyone, but I guess she learned how to fake it well." You'd never heard Heeseung speak of her this way, but he clicks his tongue before you can ask anything. "I don't want to keep talking about her. I still have to call her parents, fuck." He runs his hand over his face. The three of you sigh in unison, a snort from Jay as he notices it, "Well…I can say that I'm glad to know she's alive, even if we don't let her back into our lives."

"Yeah." Heeseung nods, taking a final drag from the cigarette in his mouth before dropping it and putting it out. "I guess that's the silver lining in this all. Nine years…man." You nod silently, before patting his arm. "We can call on Monday when I get home from work. I have to get all her information, anyway, and remove her from my patient registry so her insurance stops getting processed." "Shit, I forgot about that." Heeseung groans, slumping slightly as Jay laughs. "You guys head on home, we can get paperwork processed to actually close the case. We'll see you on Tuesday, Lieu." "Tuesday?" He echoes absently, and Jay scoffs. "Fine, Wednesday. Is that too much time away for you, workaholic?"

Your laugh makes Heeseung look up, watching you as you put out your cigarette. The two of you only indulged every once in a while, and Heeseung never fully took the habit up after you refused to kiss him one night after a smoke. Jay bids the two of you goodnight as you all walk back into the building, his box of cigarettes now broken in and Heeseung beelining for his office to grab his coat. "Hungry?" You ask as he shrugs it on, and he shakes his head. "Wanna go home and shower, go to bed. Wanna cuddle?"

He never asks. You can’t bring yourself to say no, not that you’d want to anyway.

It's easy with you. You end up leaving your car in the precinct parking lot, dropping the keys on Jake's desk with the promise of dinner if he dropped it off at your house before morning. He rolled his eyes but agreed. The entire precinct watched as you left, Heeseung's arm holding you close – a sight they'd never seen.

"Can I be the little spoon tonight?" He asks as he buckles you in, and you press a kiss to his temple. "Yeah, Hee."

Monday, 6:32pm

The two of you spent the weekend processing everything that happened. You reluctantly left your husband's side for work this morning, driving yourself as he slept soundly. Your day felt incredibly slow, your hands aching to feel his warm skin under yours.

You'd felt the need to coddle him all weekend – you made his favorite meals, you massaged his back, you even made him a new pair of slacks. A navy blue this time, his smile shy as he modeled them for you on Sunday night. The two of you cuddled for hours, Heeseung burrowing his face in any crevice you'd allow. He kissed your skin all over, mumbles of I love you and hold me tighter falling from his lips as you spent the passing hours in your bed.

Your last patient of the day was a young girl in her twenties, her eyes constantly glossed over with tears as she tried to get comfortable with you. She wound up sobbing, your chest aching as you tried to comfort her. By the time she left, she looked much better – and she told you, thank you for your help. You have no idea how long I've been holding that in. It was enough to make your chest swell with pride as you drove home, a smile on your lips as you picked up dinner and played soft jazz on the radio. You felt the weight of the world slip onto your shoulders as you pulled into your driveway, killing the engine as you fished your house key out of your bag.

You'd contacted Chaeyoung's insurance the moment you got to the clinic, and pulled her from your patient registry without a second thought. You shoved her file into your bag and pushed the thought of it all out of your mind, choosing to focus all your energy on your patients and the way your shoes hurt your feet.

"Baby?" You called into the house as you opened the door, kicking your heels off with a sigh of relief. The cold tile of the foyer against your hot skin felt like Heaven, a shiver running down your spine as you set the bag of takeout down on the dinner table. You stop to listen, but hear nothing. "Baby, are you home?" You walk down the hall, reaching to take your earrings out as you cross the threshold to the bedroom. You see your husband laying on his back with his headphones on, the light off and curtains drawn. He wouldn't be able to see you if his eyes were open, but you can see him thanks to the light in the hallway behind you. His arms are crossed over his face, but you hear the familiar quiet sob fall from his lips. You feel your chest ache at the sight, but you don't interrupt him. You merely move your hands from your ears, leaving the earrings he gifted you a few years ago on as you fold your hands behind your back.

You watch him cry for a few minutes, before he groans in disgust. He wipes at his face angrily, sitting up abruptly with his eyes wide. He jumps as he sees you, his hand flying to his chest as you smile. "Hi." "Holy shit, babe. Don't do that." He takes his headphones off, carding his fingers through his hair as you shrug. "Maybe don't lay on our bed in the dark when I call for you twice." He rolls his eyes as you near the bed, your palms cool against his skin. "Anything you want to talk about?" Your thumbs wipe his cheeks as he shakes his head.

"Same old, just angry at the entire ordeal." He mumbles, his hands finding your hips. You hum, pressing a kiss to his hairline. "Well, I brought dinner. Come eat with me." "What did you get?" His voice is muffled as he buries his face in your stomach, the buttons of your vest annoying him as he huffs. You card your fingers through his hair, dragging your nails along his scalp, "I stopped at Pasta La Vista." "What happened to no more cheesy pun restaurants?" He snorts, and you pinch his cheek. "Ah, but I love going to those places with you. I love you, you know." 

He sighs, reaching up to turn the light on. His fingers tug gently on the pull cord, the soft yellow light illuminating the room suddenly. You both wince as your eyes adjust, blinking rapidly before looking at each other. His mouth drops, making your head tilt. "Something wrong?" "Babe. Are you serious?"

His voice is whiny, paired with the splotchy cheeks and swollen lips from his crying. You furrow your brow in confusion, feeling his hands tighten on your hips. "What? Did I do something wrong?" "Be so fucking serious with me right now. Look at what you're wearing." He huffs, pulling at one of your belt loops. You glance down at your outfit, a form-fitting black pinstripe suit you hadn't worn in a few years. It had a matching vest, one you paired with a white button down underneath. You'd worn your white Hot Chicks, much to the dismay of your poor feet. "Do I look bad?" You ask softly, glancing at yourself in the mirror when he gets your attention by pulling at your belt buckle. "Are you kidding me? You look fucking amazing! You haven't worn this in ages, where the hell did you find it?" "You could've started with that! You had me thinking I did something wrong!" You huff, swatting at his shoulder as his fingers fiddle with the buttons of your vest. "I'm sorry, but you really caught me off guard. Fuck, have these always fit like this?" He runs his hands down the back of your thighs, and you feel your cheeks heat slightly as you shove his hands off you.

"Stop feeling me up and come eat dinner. We have things to do before we can turn in for the night." You remind him as you turn around to walk out of the bedroom when you feel his fingers pinch the swell of your ass. You reach behind you and smack his hand away, "Stop it!" "Fine, fine. Let me…get cleaned up I guess. I feel gross." He groans, rolling his eyes as he slides off the bed. You make your way to the kitchen without any more of Heeseung's touching, and you carefully plate everything up. You know he'd be content just eating on the couch with a show on, but you need something to busy yourself as your mind whirls with the idea of calling Chaeyoung's parents.

What would you even say? "Nice to meet you, now let me tell you all about how I betrayed your daughter when she came to me for therapy!" You groan, running your hands through your hair as you overwhelm yourself with thoughts. You thought you'd be fine, but you sort of thank your stars that you managed to make it through work without thinking about it. You'd rather be home and agonizing over it than anywhere else.

In all your thinking, you don't hear Heeseung walk into the kitchen. Your head is low between your shoulders as you hold onto the sink, taking deep breaths. You jolt when you feel his hand on your back, a concerned look in his eyes. "Are you okay?" "Yeah, fine. Sorry, just…thinking." You sigh, before pushing off the sink. He gives you a stern look, his hands moving to your waist to pull you into him. “Talk to me.”

You gently bang your forehead against his chest, “What are we even going to tell them?”

A low whistle comes from your husband’s lips, “I have no idea. Promise to still think I’m sexy if I break down?”

You snort, slapping his chest lightly as he smiles down at you. “Emotional vulnerability is sexy, Hee.”

“You want me so bad.” He chides, making you roll your eyes. You try not to let your eyes linger on the muscle of his arms, now showcased by a sleeveless white shirt he must've changed into. “Let’s eat dinner and I’ll take care of whatever hornball issue you have later.”

“Will you keep the suit on?” He asks, brow raised as he scans your face. You rub your temples, before feigning an annoyed sigh. “Yes, Heeseung, I’ll keep the suit on.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” He smiles as you try to weasel your way out of his arms, but he holds you tightly. He pins you against the sink, his hand moving to hold your face gently. The tip of his nose touches yours slightly, the same electricity that skin-to-skin contact with your husband causes runs down your spine. “Have I?”

“You’re going to wax poetic after I said I’d keep the suit on to get you off?” You snort, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m going to wax poetic after my wife agrees to some weird shit I ask of her simply because she loves me as I love her.”

You struggle not to roll your eyes, but your warming cheeks give you away. "Please focus on the order of events, will you? Dinner, dreaded call, then whatever freak shit you have in your head. Move it." He grins as he presses a kiss to your forehead, before letting you worm out of his grasp. Dinner is quiet, with neither of you wanting to talk too much in detail about your days. Heeseung would know you were so stressed that you skipped lunch, and you'd know that he'd had to change his pillowcase twice because of how long he'd been crying. It wasn't something either of you wanted to share, but simultaneously, you both knew. "Do you think they'll be happy?" You murmur around a breadstick, a pout on your husband's lips as he chews. "I mean…I would hope so. Mrs. Cha lost her mind when she disappeared." "Define lost her mind." 

He sighs, taking a sip of his water. "I guess the same way I did, but worse. The first year had to have been the worst. No sleep, she barely ate and was having constant breakdowns…but it's different. A mother's love is nothing compared to what I may have felt then." He shrugs, and you find yourself humming in response.

Your eyes are downcast, pushing the remaining pasta around on your plate as he gazes at you. "I'm sorry to have put you through that." "Do you remember our vows? I'd promised I'd be there, always." You say pointedly, and he shakes his head. "I mean, through what happened on Friday. I will never stop apologizing for any of it, I know that in my heart. That day was just too much for you, I saw it in the way you looked at her. She hurt your feelings." "Calling me a bitch is hardly hurting my feelings, I've heard far worse." You snort, but Heeseung leans slightly across the table. "You know that's not what I'm talking about, honey. You're great at your job, you have to know that."

You sigh, "I know, I even had a patient today tell me I helped her a lot and it made me feel really nice. But, I will admit it was a dumb move to keep Chaeyoung as a patient. I should have told her from the get-go who I was and what I knew, and then maybe Friday would've gone differently. If at all, you know." "It's too late to think about what we should have done. We can only look forward, and unfortunately that means we have to make that call to her parents." He slumps in his chair, closing his eyes. "What if I cry?" "Then you cry, honey." You shrug, "I'll be here anyway. We're doing this together." Nothing more is said as the two of you clean up, opting to brush your teeth to remove the taste of the garlic from your tongues. You find yourself reapplying your lipstick, wiping the corners of your lips as you cap the wine red wax. Heeseung sits on the couch with his phone in his hand as you retrieve the file from your purse. He sighs as you walk over, your thigh brushing his as you sit next to him. "Ready?" You ask softly, your fingers flicking the file open. Heeseung sighs inwardly as he dials the number he's known by heart since he was a kid. You drape your leg over his to feel him closer, his hand sliding around your upper thigh as the line rings.

"Cha Residence, Seonmi speaking." 

The woman's voice is tired, and Heeseung squeezes his eyes shut as he speaks. "Hi, Mrs. Cha. It's uhm…it's Heeseung." The line is quiet for a moment, before a gentle sigh is heard. "Hi, sweetheart. Long time." "I know, I'm sorry." He mumbles, earning a soft laugh from her. "Nothing to be sorry for. Are you alright? How's your wife?"

"She's good. She's here, actually. Would you like to say hello?" He holds the phone towards you, and you clear your throat as you say a soft hello. "Oh, hello! Wow, I've never heard you speak, I've only seen photos of you. How are you? Heeseung treating you well, I hope?" You feel your cheeks heat as you respond, "Yeah, yes ma'am. I'm okay, how are you?" "Oh, you know. Same old, struggling. Did you guys need something from me? Maybe something of Soyoung's?" She sounds so tired, it makes your heart ache.

"Actually, we called with an update. If you're in the headspace to hear it." Heeseung says shakily, and you find yourself pressing a kiss to his cheek, stamping your lipstick on his skin. He leans into your lips, and you brush another in the same place before leaning your head on his shoulder.

"Oh, boy. Another sighting, I assume?" Mrs. Cha sounds defeated, and you can hear the clicking of a keyboard in the distance. You clear your throat, and Heeseung holds the phone to you. "I think it's better if my wife tells you." "Sweetheart, please get on with it."

You take the phone gingerly, clearing your throat. "For starters, I'm a therapist in the next town over. I started that job a few weeks back, and I've been taking new patients. Your daughter was one of them." Nothing is heard on the other end, and Heeseung gives you a nod to keep talking. His hand squeezes around your thigh, and you speak again. "She's changed her name, and she's married. I…she talked about everything that led to her disappearance as well as everything going on in her life currently. She's well, and she's established."

"So…you found her?" You hear a soft sob from the other end, your own eyes stinging. "We did. She talked a lot about Heeseung, so I didn't tell her we were married. I drove her to the precinct on Friday to see him again for the first time since she disappeared, and it did not go well, to say the least. However, she did give us permission to share her information with you, and I've got everything in front of me if you've got a pen or something to jot it down." You hear the rustling of paper and pens knocking against each other as someone talks in the background. Mrs. Cha sniffles into the phone, "Go ahead. I'm ready." You read everything out to her, spelling street names and offering to send photos over as well. "And you're sure it's her? You know it?" Mrs. Cha's voice is shaky as you hear a chair get pushed back, and Heeseung replies, "Positive. We wouldn't have called if we weren't sure, I was in denial when Y/N told me." "Do you…should I call her? I know she's angry with me, she must be." Mrs. Cha sounds distant, like she's walking somewhere. "She may be angry, but I'm sure she wouldn't have allowed us to give you her information if she didn't want you to contact her or know of her reappearance." You say gently, and hear Mrs. Cha laugh through her presumed tears.

"You chose the right profession, Y/N. I can see how easily this comes to you." 

Heeseung's eyes widen as he looks down at you, your own lips spread in a shy smile. His eyes speak for themselves – See? Told you.

"Thank you." You murmur, and Heeseung squeezes your leg as he clears his throat. "Well, that's all we really called for. Feel free to keep us updated, we'll get all the paperwork for the case figured out. We can handle our end privately, but you can choose how to go about things on your end." "Thank you, sincerely. I know the last nine years have been grueling for you as well, Heeseung. I hope you know you'll always have a place in our family and our hearts, and you're welcome in our home any time. You as well, Y/N. We'd love to have you over for dinner."

You gape as Heeseung answers gently, saying he'll figure out some dates and get back to her. She agrees, and a soft take care is whispered from your husband before he hangs up.

He leans forward to put his phone and Chaeyoung's file on the coffee table, before sighing. You rest your arm against the back of the couch, smushing your cheek with the heel of your palm. He slumps against the cushions silently, his hand slinking up and down your thigh.

"Feel better? This was somehow under and overwhelming." "Weight off my fucking shoulders, I'll tell you that much." He huffs, rubbing his face in frustration. You hum, reaching to run your fingers through his hair as he turns his head to face you, a pout on his lips. "Why does everything have to suck?" "Does everything suck?" You repeat thoughtfully, looking around your living room. "I mean, consider the good things. We've got this wonderful home, we have our health and your family. We have our jobs. Job market is garbage, you know." He sighs, looking around the room. "Now I just sound ungrateful." You snort, before pushing yourself up and straddling his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You settle high on his thighs, his hands instinctively coming to rest on your hips. "You're not ungrateful, you're just going through the motions. I honestly thought you'd be worse. That's why this all seems so underwhelming to me, I thought it would be a much bigger ordeal, that you'd be excited to see her." "I would have been, if it weren't for the fact that she left at her own will. A part of me just wishes she would have fucking said something, I could've talked to her. Or her parents, or something, you know?" He's frustrated as you nod, thumbing the lobe of his ear. "Oh, but you can't save everyone. You're only human. I know that's one of the first fates you face when you do the kind of work you do." He huffs, "I just have questions that I won't ever get answers to. It bothers me because no matter what she does or says, it just feels like betrayal over and over again. If we pile the fact that she said all those shitty things to you, it just makes me hate her more."

"Hating people is so taxing, baby." You shrug, "It's not good for the spirit, or your hairline." "Keep making jokes about my hairline, see how that works out for you." He scoffs, making you scrunch your nose at him. "I've been making jokes about your hairline since we met, I think it's worked out just fine. I have this house, I have this couch…" You trail off as you lean closer, brushing your nose with his, his eyes wide as he looks up at you. "I have you, on this couch, in this house and your signature on a paper that says you're my husband. What does that say about you?" "That I like gorgeous women in suits who make fun of me, I guess." He shrugs, his hands squeezing your hips as you brush your lips against his. You move away as he tries to connect your lips, making him roll his eyes. "Just kiss me, will you?" "Is that how we get the things we want?" You pull back, your brow raised as he sighs. This was a game you liked to play every once in a while, knowing that Heeseung easily flustered when you took charge. He reveled in it, sure, but it definitely took him a bit to accept that you called the shots.

"Babe, come on." "Hm, I don't like that answer." Shrugging, you start moving off his lap, earning a groan as he uses his strength to hold your hips flush to his. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please kiss me, I need it." "You need it?" You scoff, your hands on his shoulders as he blushes, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips. "I need you."

"Yeah? Need me where?" Your eyes look at him expectantly, feeling him shift under you with nerves, looking down. Your gaze doesn't waver as you tilt his chin back up, his eyes full of lust and adoration. "Where?" "Here." His cheeks flushed impossibly deeper as he pouted up at you, moving your fingertips to his lips. He kisses the pads of your fingers, making you coo as you press your lips to the tip of his nose. He chases your lips as you plant kisses around his entire face, stamping your lipstick on his skin carefully. "Baby, please." 

"I love you." You murmur against his lips, making his eyes flutter shut as you finally kiss him. His hands move to your waist, pulling your chest flush to his as you shrug off your suit jacket, tossing it to the side as you gently lick into his mouth. He groans into your mouth, his fingers flexing against your body as you suck on the tip of his tongue. His hips rut up against you slowly, a whine from your throat making you pull away, dragging your lips down his jaw. 

"Can I take care of you, baby?" You murmur against the shell of his ear, making him shiver as you nip at the lobe, a quiet please from his throat. His hands twitch at your sides, soft whines from his lips as you trail your tongue down the slope of his neck. You feel his fingers move to fumble with the buttons of your vest, before he untucks your shirt, sliding his hands slightly under it to feel the heat of your skin against his. 

"I love you so much." He mumbles as you kiss his swollen lips again chastely, your fingers undoing your shirt buttons as he watches your face with low eyes. His hands snake higher on your stomach, before the tips of fingers brush your bare breasts. His eyes widen as he pulls away, jaw falling slack as he sees your lack of undergarments. "Baby." "Just enjoy it." You roll your eyes, shivering as he runs his thumbs over your pebbled nipples. He leans forward slightly, before your hand cards through his hair. "This is not about me." "You said enjoy it. How can I, if you don't let me?" He scoffs, moving your hand from its spot on the nape of his neck, pulling you forward into his mouth. His tongue swirls expertly around the hardened nub, your hand finding and digging into the back of the couch. Heeseung feels his head spinning as he breathes you in, the soft scent of his favorite perfume on your skin. You groan quietly as your hips roll against his, a soft fuck from your lips as he carefully drags his teeth on the sensitive bud. He moves to the other side, your hand tangling in his hair again as he plants wet kisses across your chest. "So perfect for me." He murmurs, flattening his tongue against your nipple as his hands move to undo your belt. He pulls it through the loops within seconds, tossing it aside and palming your ass over your pants, moving you over his bulge slowly. He relishes in the sounds you make, whimpers from your throat making his cock twitch in his pants as he continues to lap at your chest. "Always so fucking beautiful. You make me insane."

You whine in response, pulling his head away from your chest and reconnecting your lips. He feels your hand snake down between your bodies, palming at his hardened cock through his sweatpants. He groans into your mouth, his hips rutting into your hand involuntarily. You slip your tongue in his mouth, letting him messily kiss you back as he tangles a hand in your hair – your own beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging at them gently. He obliges, lifting his hips for you to pull them down to his knees. You pull away from his lips as much as the hand in your hair will allow, your hand wrapping around his leaking cock gently. He shudders as you stroke him, whining against your lips when you pull his hand out of your hair, sliding off his lap and settling between his knees. He lets out a breath as you glance up at him through thick lashes, before pressing a kiss to his inner thigh. His hands move back to your hair, gathering it into a messy ponytail as you continue to drag your lips around his skin, faint lipstick stains marking your path. He feels his stomach cave the moment you swirl your tongue around his tip, a broken moan cutting through the air.

"S'fucking pretty like this…" He groans, watching as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks slightly. Your tongue laps at the underside of his cock, following the thick vein as his tip hits the back of your throat. Gagging around him, you feel his hips jerk up involuntarily, a murmured apology as you pull off, shaking your head. "Want it, want you to do that." 

Your ears are watery as you look up at him, your hand wrapped around his shaft as his lips parted in a soft grunt. He wipes his thumb across your lower lip before he takes his cock in his hand, "Beautiful."

You feel your cheeks flush, not responding to the compliment as he opens your mouth for you. You stick out your tongue, making him smirk as he slides the heavy head of his cock on it. You blink up at him before you sink down on him, hearing a soft sigh fall from his lips. He rocks his hips up slowly, throwing his head back with a whimper as you gag around him.

"Feel s'fucking good, baby. Love you so much, fuck…" You feel your skin prickle at the praise, your eyes brimming with tears as the tip of his cock brushes the back of your throat, a groan making him shiver. "Always so good to me…"

You hum as best as you can, feeling his hand tighten in your hair as the tell-tale whimper falls from your husband's lips. He pulls you off almost reluctantly, staring up at the ceiling and biting down on his lip as you look up at him, seeing his chest move in shallow breaths. "Hee–" "Need to feel you." He pulls you off your knees by your wrists, making you slide your knee between his for balance. His lips feel frantic as he kisses you messily, groaning at the slight taste of himself inside your mouth as you try to keep up. "Need to cum inside you, baby." His lips ghost over yours as he unbuttons your slacks, your teeth nipping at his bottom lip as he hooks his thumbs into the belt loops. You let him tug them down, stepping out of them when he snaps the waistband of your underwear against your skin. "Take it off." "What, do you want me to strip for you?" You roll your eyes, and he smirks lightly. "We can spin that back another time. Take it off." You oblige, feeling your husband's hands wrap around your thighs as you kick your underwear off to the side. He pulls you forward, instinctively making you straddle him slightly before he looks up, his hand snaking between your thighs. "Do you need–"

You shake your head quickly as he glides his fingers through your wet folds, his eyes widening as you shiver. He holds his hand up to the light, your arousal stringy between his fingers, gathering around his wedding band. He peers up at you, "Really?" "Shut up." Your cheeks burn as he scoffs out a laugh, before running his tongue over his fingers. "All fours, please." He tilts his head towards the free space on the couch, your eyes narrowing as you do as he says, hearing the thwip of his shirt being pulled over his head. 

"You know," You mumble as you settle on your elbows, "This is not-ah!" The warm feeling of Heeseung's tongue on your clit makes you jolt, and you feel him smile into your skin as his hands rest on your hips. He groans as you push your hips against his face, your fingers digging into the couch cushion as you whine into the brown suede. "So fucking wet, for what? A little kissing?" He's talking down to you, amused at the way your pussy clenches around his tongue, your whimper muffled by your shirt sleeve, "I love you." "Yeah? My messy girl loves me?" His voice is clearer now, and you feel his hand grip your hip as he drags the tip of his cock through your folds with a hiss. You push back against him with a whine, earning a firm smack to the back of your thigh. "Behave. You can wait."

You can hear him mutter under his breath as he ruts against you, his breathing shaky as he holds you steady. You feel him sink inside you slowly, the wet squelch making your cheeks burn in embarrassment as you whimper at the stretch. "I know honey, I know." Heeseung's voice is almost goading as he rocks into you slowly, biting down on his lip as you clench around him. "You take me so well, baby. Just love this dick, huh?" He holds your hips tight as you nod, your voice lost on you as he brushes that spongy spot inside you. You're pliant in his hands, your eyes rolling back when you feel his hand come down on your ass sharply, a moan falling from your lips into the cushion.

"Filthy little thing." He mutters, running his hand over the reddened skin. "Love being treated like a slut, don't you?" His fingers move to hold onto your waist, hearing you mumble something before leaning down slightly. "Don't you?" "Yours. Your slut." You mumble as you nod shyly, the duality making his chest ache as he coos. "All mine, yeah? Get this wet for me only, right?" The sound of your soft moans is almost drowned out by the smack of his hips against your ass. 

"Always feel so good around me, baby, shit.." His hand tangles in your hair, pulling you up carefully. You whimper as your back hits his chest, your hand holding onto the back of the couch as he bullies his cock into you. He feels you clamp down around him, your skin hot to the touch as he slides his hand down, circling your clit with his fingers.

"Always take such good care of me, my gorgeous girl. My wife, fuck, I love you." He mutters into your neck, his eyes catching your earrings swinging as he nips at your skin. You whine inwardly, looking away from him as you clench around him, your orgasm on the tip of your tongue as he thrusts into you. 

His hand moves from your hair to cradle your face, turning you just slightly to see the fucked out glaze in your eyes, your lips swollen and slick with spit. He smiles softly, brushing his lips over yours, "I love you."

You close your eyes as he kisses you messily, nothing but teeth and tongue as your orgasm washes over you, a whiny moan into your husband's mouth. He carefully tugs off your vest and shirt, "Just a little more baby, almost there. Gonna fill you up, yeah?" "Y-Yeah." You whimper as he lets you fall forward slowly, your trembling thighs only egging him on as he runs his hands over your bare back. "So fucking perfect. S-Such a perfect woman, could never ask for anyone better. M-My angel, my everything." He's rambling, forcing himself to focus as he overstimulates you chasing his orgasm. You mewl into the cushion relentlessly, pushing against him when he notices you holding your hand out behind your back. He interlocks your fingers, before spilling inside you with a whimper. He shudders above you, your hand squeezing his gently before you let go. He digs his fingers into your hips deeply, earning a groan as you shakily try to sit up on your elbows. You only manage to push back on him, a choked moan ringing through the air as he grabs at your hips. He winces as he pulls out carefully, his eyes glued to the way you clench around nothing with soft breaths. His fingers ghost over your hole as you push his release out, not realizing how sensitive you are as he smears it all over your glistening folds. "H-Heeseung!" You reach back to swat at him, making his eyes snap up to look at you. He smiles sheepishly, apologizing under his breath as he wipes his fingers on his shirt. 

"You okay?" He murmurs, his cheeks aflame as he realizes how spent you are, your hips almost giving out as he holds you up. You give him a tired nod, "We cannot fuck on my precious couch again. People sit here." He scoffs, and you feel the soft cotton of his shirt wiping down your legs. You feel him shift behind you, flinching when you feel his shirt wiping between your thighs. "Can't we just shower?" "We can, but I can't lie…I kind of like watching it drip out." He admits quietly, and you roll your eyes. "I feed so many of your guilty pleasures, but this is one I'm going to cut short. I'm all sticky." "I can make you stickier, if you want." He runs his hands up your thighs, and you scoff as you use your remaining strength to flip yourself onto your back. He's red in the face, and not just from your lipstick, his eyes glued to your center. "Hee, stop. You fucking freak." "This fucking freak is your husband, I'd be nicer to me if I were you. I suggest you tell me you love me, that's a pretty good start." He shrugs, acting nonchalant as he leans down. You give him an amused look as you run your fingers through his hair, "And I married you, why?" "Because I'm tall, tan, young, lovely." He shrugs, making you snort. "Girl from Ipanema, is that you?" "I love you." He wrinkles his nose as you press a soft kiss to it, his hands carefully moving your hair out of your eyes. "Thank you. I didn't realize how much I needed this. How much I…need you. I'm sorry it's taken me this long, baby." Your cheeks warm at his confession, your thumbs gently stroking his cheeks. "I love you. I'm always here when you need a little TLC." "And when I don't?" "And when I do, and when I don't. Whenever, you know I'm here." You assure softly, his eyes slightly glazed over as you press a chaste kiss to his lips. "However, I will admit…my TLC of preference right now is a hot shower. Care to join me?" "You and your hot showers. Can you even stand up?"

"If I can't, it just means you can eat me out in the shower." You shrug, seeing the wheels turn in your husband's head as he locks your legs around his waist. A shriek falls from your lips as he picks you up, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he moves towards the bathroom with a kiss to your lips. "And suddenly, I too, love hot showers. Shall we?"

Tuesday, 12:33pm.

It'd been a few weeks since you and Heeseung reached out to the Cha family, and the case had been officially declared closed by the Seventh Precinct. However, such a reappearance after so many years for such a prolific family meant many, many interviews and involvement with the press. It meant seeing Chaeyoung and her husband, as well as her family over and over again, even when it came to things that weren't about her.

Your relationship was still not perfect – with you and Heeseung slowly working through your issues, things got easier. He managed to submit the paperwork for his vacation to start on Friday, and had some final things to settle at the Seoul Central District Court with a few attorneys involved in a case he and Jay were attempting to break into. He'd called you to meet him and Sunoo for lunch and a meeting to bring you on as an expert witness, as you had a short day in the office.

Short day in the office does not warrant a short day outside of it, though – and you found your husband crowded by reporters and flashing cameras as you tried to quietly make your way into the courthouse. You hoped they wouldn't see you – Heeseung had been pissed enough already when a few reporters dragged your name through the mud when Chaeyoung gave her side of the story, pictures of you that he loved now torn to shreds by internet trolls and what little social media you did have had been flooded with hateful comments. You wound up deleting everything, and staying away from your phone as much as possible. Heeseung arranged private security, and even had Sunghoon assigned to keep an eye out for any suspicious activity around you. 

Nothing had happened, and you were sure nothing would – but you couldn't lie, you felt safer when you and Heeseung were behind the locked doors of your home, hidden away in your bedroom.

You could hear the reporters shouting questions at Heeseung, the tick in his jaw evident as he answered one question at a time. You watch from afar a bit, your facemask protecting you from being discovered as you inch closer. You can see his patience begin to thin and you're about to barrel down the steps to him when you hear a reporter shout over all the others.

"Lieutenant, your wife has been dragged by the media in all forms. What are your thoughts on that, considering that Jeon Chaeyoung was once your life-long friend?" Heeseung's face hardens, and he pinches the bridge of his nose as he speaks.

"I have nothing to say on Mrs. Jeon, I cannot understand why she'd speak about Dr. Lee that way. Please write that down, put that into the world. She's not just my wife, she's her own person and she had a huge role in this case. I would have lost my mind if it weren't for her, and her impact should not be reduced simply because we're married." You feel your chest fill with warmth as you take a few more steps down, a reporter spotting you and you press a finger to your facemask, your wedding ring making her eyes widen. She says nothing as you listen to Heeseung speak.

"Dr. Lee was a pertinent witness to the entire case, and had she not been involved, had she not said something, Mrs. Jeon's case would've remained open and no one would know of her whereabouts. Her family had been in absolute shambles for the last nine years, and frankly, as harsh as it sounds, I'm glad that it's finally over. Dr. Lee is not to blame for whatever upset feelings Mrs. Jeon may have, or whatever resentment she may have towards myself. If she wants to drag anyone through the dirt, she might as well drag me. Dr. Lee is entirely innocent in this, she was a huge stepping stone in bridging crucial pieces of information together and restoring the Cha family. In other words, keep my wife's name out of your mouth unless you're praising her. I'm tired of hearing this, so I have nothing more to say on the matter."

Your eyes are wide as he shrugs, before the reporter who spotted you makes a few moves up the steps, trying not to alert anyone else. You tilt your head at her, and she quietly steps up to you. She holds her recorder up slightly, and you nod, beckoning her closer with your hand.

"Dr. Lee, how do you feel about Lieutenant Lee coming to your defense amongst the influx of hate from netizens?" You lean down to her to speak into the small microphone, clearing your throat. "I think Lieutenant Lee is one of the most kind-hearted, driven, loving people in my life. There's a reason he's my husband, you know. I couldn't ask for a better man." The reporter's eyes soften as Heeseung turns around, bidding the reporters a goodbye as he buttons his coat up, trekking back up the stairs. He looks up, his eyes meeting yours as you give him a little wave. He walks up to you, giving the reporter a curt nod before slipping his fingers in yours. 

The reporter gives you a soft thank you, before walking down the steps. You let Heeseung guide you up the steps, and glance over your shoulder to see reporters taking photos of the two of you from behind. You nudge him with your elbow, and he looks down at you. "Yes?" "Kiss me." You tilt your head towards the reporters, and he snorts as the two of you reach the doors. "You sure?" "Positive." You nod as you pull your mask off, the camera flashes almost blinding as they watch you press your lips to Heeseung's, his arm wrapping around your waist as his hand cradles your cheek. Your lipstick stains his mouth as you pull away, and you give the reporters a cheeky thumbs up as he pulls you into the courthouse.

Sunoo's eyes are wide as you walk into his quarters with Heeseung, your lipstick now also stamped on his cheek from a kiss you gave him in the hallway. He smiles warmly as you offer a hug, embracing you tightly. "God, it's so nice to see you in love." He murmurs into your hair, patting your back before you all take a seat at his desk. The three of you are going over the options for lunch when you hear a knock at the door, your head whipping around to see your mother entering the office. Your eyes widen, and Heeseung is up before you know it. He's greeting her warmly, her face remaining stoic as he takes her coat. She looks tired, and you stand on shaky legs.

"Hello, Mother." You say softly, your eyes flickering to Heeseung and Sunoo as they stand to the side. She steps in front of you, her eyes scanning you carefully. You wince as she steps slightly closer, only for her to breathe out softly.

"I wanted to speak to you earlier this week, amidst everything in the media. However, I'm too prolific and I worried I'd be followed to your home, so I left a few messages on your answering machine. I assume you didn't receive them, so is now a good time?" She's still professional, your mother had no idea how to be comforting or warm. You nod slowly, shoving your trembling hands into your coat. "S-Sure. Yeah, we can talk." Your mother had never cared who was around when she spoke to you about anything. It was one of the more mortifying things about her, but she made up for it by keeping her voice quiet enough that only you could hear her.

"May I touch you?" She asks with a twinge in her voice you'd never heard, and you nod slowly. "Okay." She doesn't wait for another second, throwing her arms around you as she pulls you into a tight embrace. Your eyes are wide as you look at Heeseung and Sunoo, their own the size of saucers as you awkwardly wrap your arms around her. "Are you…alright?" "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I read everything that you said in your interviews, about Chaeyoung and her reasons behind leaving, and how deeply you understood her dilemma. I never realized I was pushing you away, and I'm incredibly sorry if I ever made you feel like I wasn't supportive of your dreams or career choices. I know that this may be a too little, too late sort of situation, but I couldn't let more time go by without letting you know how proud I am of you and everything you've accomplished, not just as a professional but as a woman, as my daughter, as a wife."

Your eyes are stinging with tears as Heeseung's jaw drops, your mother pulling back to cup your face in her hands. "And I'll sue that little bitch for all she has for dragging you through the mud. I'll do it, I'll wring her dry of every asset she's ever acquired."

Her eyes are full of tears as you gape at her, before she presses a kiss to your forehead. "I love you so much, darling. I'm so, so sorry."

"Mom-" "I'm so glad to have you, darling. Please don't disappear on me, I promise you I cannot handle it." You let her pull you back into her embrace, the tears streaming down your cheeks before she pulls away quickly. "Alright, I've got a meeting I'm running late to. I just saw you in the window and I needed to pop in and talk to you. As you were, I'll give you a call later." She gives the three of you a curt nod, before taking her coat and skirting back out of Sunoo's office.

The three of you are silent, your arms wrapped around yourself as you cover your mouth with your hand. You don't wipe your tears as they stream down, and you look up at the men staring at you in shock. "She said she's proud of me." You whine suddenly, and Heeseung lets out a soft laugh as you walk into his embrace, Sunoo smiling to himself as Heeseung strokes your hair, sharing a glance with his long-time friend as you sob into his shirt. "Oh, my baby. You deserve all that and more."

"Should we push the meeting? I think we've got a lot of big feelings to work out, Dr. Lee." Sunoo speaks up gently, and you pout as Heeseung agrees before you can say anything. You mumble out an apology, but Sunoo shakes his head, waving you off. "Let me lead you out the backway, those reporters would have a ball with your crying face."

"Shut up, Sunoo." You scoff, making him snicker as he leads you both out of his office, your head bowed as you let Heeseung hide you from onlookers. You both quietly thanked Sunoo as he opened the door for you and bid you farewell, saying he'd try and get everything done before Heeseung's allotted vacation time. They agreed to meet again on Thursday, with Sunoo giving your shoulder a soft squeeze.

"Give yourself some more credit, Y/N. You deserve it."

Saturday, 4:44pm.

"You found it? You look so beautiful, holy shit." Heeseung was laid on the bed, held up by his elbows as you stood in front of the mirror, a quizzical look on your face as you clipped in your earrings. You purse your lips, turning to face him, the sarong skirt of the dress he'd made you swinging slightly.

"You sure? It's not too…showy?" You pout, running your hands over the soft white fabric. You'd dug this dress back out specifically for this occasion, renewing your vows with your husband on a simple vacation in the middle of nowhere. By middle of nowhere, you mean the same field he proposed to you in, two hours out of Seoul and likely full of flowers this time of year.

"Baby, it's just you and me. You can be as showy as you want in your dress, as bummy as you want in your sweatpants. You're fucking angelic." He pulls you to him by your hips, "I did great on this hem, you can't lie." "Wonderful, yes." You roll your eyes, feeling his hands snake under the skirt. You allow it, feeling your cheeks warm as he snaps the waistband of your underwear against your hip. "Let me go down on you." You sigh, rubbing your temples as your husband presses a kiss to your cleavage. "Heeseung, the sun is going to set and we're going to be doing this in the dark." "Can I go down on you after?" He questions, not really paying attention as he stands, his hands low on your back as he pulls you to him. "Heeseung." "Two orgasms, right after we're done, on the hood of my car." He offers, making you snort. "One orgasm, after we're done, in the backseat." "I'll take it!" He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, making you giggle as he lands a soft smack to your ass. "Stop it!" "You love me! Now get your cute ass in the car, we've got shit to do."

And it feels easy. It feels light, sitting next to Heeseung as he pulls out of the driveway with one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding your fingers tightly. It feels good, listening to your husband sing along softly to soft jazz songs on the radio before you plug in your phone, and then hearing him sing along to your playlists. It feels like getting a breath of fresh air when you see the afternoon sunlight beaming on his skin, his white shirt reflecting the light painfully into your eyes. It feels like the way your heart starts beating a little faster when you catch a whiff of his spicy cologne, your eyes falling on him with a soft smile. It feels like an emotional orgasm when he times playing No Song Without You by HONNE perfectly to when you arrive, your pout being kissed off frantically by your attentive, doting husband. It feels like falling in love when he holds you close, pressing his lips anywhere you'd allow him to as you both reach into your pockets for the thick packets of words you've written. It feels like falling in love when he goes off script, holding the papers in his hand as he looks into your eyes. It feels like falling in love when he kisses your tears off your face as you tell him how much you appreciate his changes, it feels like falling in love when he says you should never thank him for doing what's right. It feels like falling in love, when he pulls a box out of his pocket and presents yet another gold ring to add to your set, with your initials engraved on the outside.

It feels like falling in love with he suggests you both pick flowers from the field to press when you get home. It feels like falling in love when he holds your hand and pulls you close when you've wandered too far, it feels like falling in love when he's kissing you against the hood of his car. It feels like falling in love when he carries you into the backseat and you wind up naked in his lap, a whining and writhing mess as he tells you how pretty you are, how much he loves you, how bad he wants to get you pregnant so everyone knows you're his. It feels like falling in love, when on the ride home, he can't keep his hands off you.

It feels like falling in love, when he wastes no time getting you in the bedroom, your dress on the floor with his shirt and pants. It feels like falling in love when he draws a bath for the two of you, it feels like falling in love when he tells you I love you as he washes your hair, your body, your face.

It feels like falling in love again, but this time? You don't feel like you're falling alone.

BABEYUN © 2024. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

TAGLIST: @thesassy-mia @starfallia @ramenoil @hoonieversies @wintabite @shnnzsworld @eneiyri @jjongsha @ilovejungwonandhaechan @oopshee @capri-cuntz @petalsofink @teddybeartaetae @chocminteu @moon0fthenight @delvziion @heeseungthel0ml @bbyjw @isa942572, @304files, @seungjiseyo @gaytron3000 @melonvrs @yizhoutv @riribelle @swaggieee

[chancloud8]

CHAPTER 1

series masterlist

Pairing: OT8 x reader

Word Count: 3,9k

Tags: Intro, bodyguard!ot8, idol!reader

Summery: Meeting your new bodyguards doesn't go as smoothly as everyone hoped..

‘I don’t need a group of bodyguards,’ you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time. 

Your manager Yoona doesn’t even look at you anymore and you fight the urge to stamp your feet like a little child to get her attention. You won’t stoop that low though, so instead you place your hands on your hips and glare at the woman who’s been by your side since you debuted about two years ago. 

‘We’re not having this discussion again, y/n,’ Yoona says, her eyes still fixed on her phone screen. ‘Your popularity is growing by the day, you’ve received multiple death threats in the last few months and in case you forgot, last week someone tried to break into your home.’ 

Your shoulders deflate and your hands fall down beside your body. You can’t really argue with that, but you’ve grown so accustomed to having Faris at your side as your one and only bodyguard, that the thought of eight men taking his place makes you shiver. Who the hell needed eight freaking bodyguards? You weren’t a princess for fuck’s sake. 

Yoona finally looks at you then. ‘It’s very important to us to keep you safe, darling. I know it will be an adjustment, but you’ll get used to it.’ 

‘But eight?’ you argue, trying once more. ‘Do I really need eight men following my every move?’ 

‘That’s why we’re placing some of them around you with other jobs as well, kind of like undercover bodyguards,’ Yoona smiles at you like that makes it any better. 

You slump down in the chair across from Yoona and frown at her. What could bodyguards possibly go undercover as in your team? Woman, sure, no problem, but a muscled man? They’d stand out immediately. 

‘What do you mean?’ you ask carefully, not sure if you even want to know. 

‘They all have multiple skill sets, but we decided on adding three of them as your dancers and one will probably step in as a personal assistant of sorts,’ Yoona explains, her eyes once more on her phone screen. 

‘Why?’ you blurt out. ‘I don’t even need new dancers? We’re not firing anyone are we?’ 

You were perfectly happy with your team as it was and it would kill you to let any of them go because Yoona decided you needed eight freaking men to watch you. 

Yoona sighed and put down her phone. ‘We’re not firing anyone, but Dohyun is still recovering from his injury and Ju-won has asked for a few months off to visit his family. As for why, it will allow them to be around you more casually.’ 

Damnit. That actually made sense. 

‘And you’re sure they can dance?’ you ask, already knowing the answer. Yoona would never suggest something like this if they couldn’t. 

‘Yes, y/n, they can dance. I think you’ll be impressed actually.’ 

That makes you curious. Yoona isn’t easily impressed, so if she thinks you’ll approve, they must be good. Maybe you should give them a chance, or just be such a brat they run away screaming. 

‘Fine,’ you sigh. ‘When will I meet them?’ 

Yoona looks at her watch and your eyes widen at the movement. She wouldn’t do this to you, would she? 

‘They’ll be here in an hour to meet you,’ Yoona says and you let out a relieved breath. ‘You better be back here by then or I will let one of them drag you here by your ear.’ 

‘Bossy much,’ you whisper, but you don’t really mean it. You luckily have a very good relationship with your manager and even though she drives you up a wall sometimes, you know she has your best interest at heart. 

Yoona rolls her eyes at you and waves her hand at the door. ‘Go be bratty somewhere else, I’ll see you in an hour.’ 

You bark out a laugh and jump up from the chair. ‘As you wish, my Queen,’ you say, doing a little courtesy. 

Your current bodyguard Faris is waiting for you in the hallway, a smile on his handsome face as he spots you. 

‘Good talk?’ he asks, following one step behind you. 

‘You knew about this, didn’t you?’ you ask, glaring at him over your shoulder. 

‘I’m the one who recommended them actually,’ Faris says and only his quick reflexes stop him from walking straight into your back as you stop walking immediately at his words. 

‘What?’ you turn around to frown at him. ‘Why would you do that to me?’ 

Faris raises his eyebrows and stares down at you with a knowing look, his arms crossing over his chest. 

‘Fine,’ you roll your eyes at him. ‘I know why, Yoona was so kind to remind me, but I still don’t get why it has to be eight.’ 

‘It might seem excessive to you Nabi,’ Faris says, addressing you with your stage name which he knows usually softens you. ‘But you don’t see all that we see and trust me when I say that once you’re on tour, you’ll be happy to have them by your side. It gets crazy out there.’ 

‘I know that, but undercover bodyguards?’ you make a face. ‘I’m not royalty.’ 

Faris chuckles and with a gentle push on your shoulder, he guides you further through the hallway and towards the studio you were working at before Yoona called you to her office. It was one of the things you really liked about your agency. Nearly everything you needed was in the same building. 

‘You may as well be and I trust Chan and his guys to keep you safe,’ Faris says as he holds a door open for you. 

‘So you really know them?’ you ask, sitting down at the desk you were working at before. Your laptop is still open on the editing program you work with and there are multiple notebooks, paper coffee cups and empty candy wrappers spread all around it. ‘Did you work with them before?’ 

‘I trained 3RACHA actually,’ Faris nods. ‘Chan and I had multiple gigs together after that and I’ve only heard good things about the others as well. I’m confident I’m leaving you in good hands.’ 

‘You shouldn’t be leaving me at all,’ you groan, throwing your head back against your chair. ‘But I understand and I hope that when I have a husband one day, he'll do the same for me.’ 

Faris just smiles at that and gets comfortable on the couch facing the door. He knows better than to get into this conversation with you again. Last time you ended up facetiming his wife in tears and he ended up having to calm down two crying women. 

‘Wait, did you just say sriracha?’ you sit up in your chair when your brain suddenly realizes what he had just said. ‘As in the hot sauce?’

‘No, I said 3RACHA, that’s what they called themselves back then,’ Faris replies, glancing at you. ‘I think they made music together in their free time, before they started their own company.’ 

Huh. Interesting. Why on earth would they go from making music together to becoming bodyguards? 

‘So all eight of them made music together?’ you ask curiously. 

‘No, just Chan, Jisung and Changbin. I think they mostly rapped, but if you’re interested in knowing more, you can always ask. It could break the ice when you meet them,’ Faris suggests, winking at you. 

‘I’ll pass, I don’t want them to think I’m happy about this arrangement,’ you murmur, turning your chair so your back is to Faris. ‘Will you tell me when it’s time to go?’ 

‘Don’t I always?’ he chuckles. 

You flip him off without looking and put on your headphones. Time to edit some more music. 

****

You’re so engrossed in your music, that it takes Faris multiple tries to get you to put down your headphones. He even goes as far as opening the blinds to let the light in, making you whimper and flinch by the intrusion of it. 

‘Alright, alright,’ you yell, your eyes scrunched close. ‘I beg for mercy, I’ll come with you.’ 

Faris laughs and closes the blinds, once again developing the room in darkness, just how you like it. He has scolded you many times before about how bad it is for your eyes to squint at your screen in a dark room, but you rarely listen to him about it. 

‘If you think about telling my new watch dogs this trick of yours, I’ll haunt you,’ you warn Faris when the two of you walk towards Yoona’s office. 

Faris makes a movement with his hands as if he’s zipping his lips closed and you nod happily at him, trusting him to keep his word. 

‘How late are we?’ you ask, having forgotten your phone in the studio when Faris basically dragged you out by your arm. 

‘About five minutes too early,’ he smiles proudly. 

Of fucking course. He’s been working with you for two years so he knows all your annoying traits by now, including having a habit of being late because you simply forget the time when you’re working. 

‘What will I do without you,’ you pout at him, ignoring the nervous butterflies in your stomach as you near Yoona’s office. 

‘You’ll be just fine, Nabi,’ Faris says and you’re not sure if he means it as a reply to what you just said or as a reassurance before meeting your new team of bodyguards. 

Taking a deep breath, you turn towards Faris. ‘How do I look?’ 

‘I thought you didn’t care?’ he grins, but he reaches out to flatten a few wild strands of your hair. 

You blow him a kiss, put on a straight face and turn around to knock on the door before pushing it open. The first thing you’re greeted with is the silhouette of 4 men standing with their back to you. Each of them have broad muscular shoulders that are clearly visible under the black suit jacket they’re wearing, the fabric straining like they’re wearing a size too small. 

The man on the right turns around when you enter and you nearly gasp at his beauty. His hair is styled to show a little v of his forehead and the black strands nearly reach his eyes. Jesus. He could be a model if he wanted too. He raises his eyebrows at you when you just stare at him for a moment, before he nudges the man next to him. 

‘Are you fucking kidding me,’ you mutter under your breathe when the other man turns around and piercing eyes meet yours. 

Of course he’s beautiful as well. What the hell was Yoona thinking? 

‘Ah, Y/N, there you are,’ Yoona says when she notices you. ‘On time, even.’ 

You roll your eyes and stroll forward to her desk, ignoring the four men as you make your way around them. In that little moment you forget there’s supposed to be more of them and when you turn to stand next to Yoona and see the chairs in front of her desk filled with four more gorgeous men, you nearly stumble. 

Yoona grins at you and you narrow your eyes at the woman. 

‘You think this is funny, don’t you?’ you grumble at her. ‘Where did you even find them? heaven?’ 

One of the men snorts before trying to cover it up with a cough. 

‘Don’t mind her gentleman, she’s in a mood today,’ Yoona smiles. 

‘I wonder why,’ you mutter, sending a fake smile in the direction of the bodyguards. 

‘That’s alright, it must be a lot to take in,’ one of them says with such a deep voice that your eyes widen. 

It must look comical, cause the same man that snorted earlier, lets out a giggle. ‘Don’t worry, Miss, it’s how everyone reacts to first hearing Felix’s voice,’ 

You want to focus on him calling you Miss, but the urge to see which face belongs to the deep voice is stronger.

‘Who’s Felix?’ you ask, your eyes searching the men in front of you. 

‘I am,’ the only blonde man of the group says, lifting his hand to show you where he is. He’s absolutely stunning with freckles sprinkled over his nose and cheeks. 

‘Holy shit, is that your real voice?’ you ask without thinking, slapping your hand in front of your mouth as soon as the words come out. 

He laughs and a few of the other men chuckle as well. 

‘It is, sometimes it gets even deeper,’ he says. 

‘Yeah, Lix actually has like three different voices,’ the man who called you Miss grins. 

It’s getting annoying not to know his name, but you don’t want to ask and seem interested. Luckily one of the men at the back seems to read your mind somehow. 

‘Why don’t we all introduce ourselves, my name is Bang Chan, but you can call me Chan. I’m the leader and head of your security team as of now. So if you experience any problems with our service in any way, I’m the one you can come to.’ 

‘Noted,’ you mumble, ignoring Yoona’s glare at your rudeness. 

So that’s Chan. Faris forgot to mention how beautiful his trainee was and you were so going to punch his arm for that later. 

‘I’m Lee Minho,’ the one with the piercing stare says. ‘I’ll be joining your dance team.’ 

Fuck. Of course he is. 

‘So will I,’ Felix smiles. ‘Lee Felix.’

‘And me, Hwang Hyunjin,’ the man closest to you winks. 

Great. They were absolutely going to kill you. In more ways than one. 

Biting your lip you wait for the last four to introduce themselves and pray to all the gods that Miss guy is going to be your assistant. He already feels like the most easy going out of all eight and if you need to work with one of them closely, you’d rather it be him than anyone else. 

‘Kim Seungmin, I’ll be one of your bodyguards’ the one who noticed you first says, his eyes flicking up and down your body as if he’s calculating how much of a flight risk you are. 

Oh just you wait and see buddy. 

‘I’m Yang Jeongin, but you can call me Innie or Ayen,’ the very cute man in front of Seungmin smiles and you nearly smile back at him. 

Finally the man you’ve been waiting for speaks up. ‘I’m Han Jisung, your new assistant.’ 

You cheer in your head, keeping a straight face as you look at the last man. He’s definitely the most buff of them all, his biceps really testing the fabric of his suit jacket. 

‘And I’m Seo Changbin, also part of your daily bodyguard squad.’ 

‘You’re all way too beautiful to be bodyguards,’ you say, crossing your arms with a frown while tapping your foot on the ground. 

Yoona makes a noise beside you and you don’t dare to look at her. She’ll definitely lecture you later, but this is all on her anyways. 

‘Worried your fans will fawn over us?’ Jisung jokes, winking at you. 

Your lips tip up in a tiny smile, but you quickly straighten your face. It was going to be hard to be a brat to them, but you were nothing if you weren’t stubborn. You’re not going to just warm up to them because they were hot and funny. Nope. Not going to happen. 

‘More like you’d be too busy worrying about your good looks to protect me,’ you say, raising your eyebrows at them. 

‘Aren’t you a ray of sunshine,’ Minho grumbles, placing his hand on Jisung’s shoulder as if to comfort him. ‘You won’t have to worry about that, looking this good doesn’t cost us much.’

You open your mouth to reply, but Yoona gets up and goes to stand next to you. 

‘That’s enough Y/N,’ she hisses before smiling her million dollar smile to the men. ‘As you can see Y/N hasn’t really warmed up to the idea of having this many eyes on her all the time.’ 

‘Don’t you have that all the time though,’ Seungmin says directly to you. 

You glare at him. ‘That’s not the same. 

He just shrugs. ‘We don’t want anything from you like your fans or stalkers. We’re not here to be your friends, we’re just here to keep you safe. That’s all that should matter.’ 

His words hit you harder than they should and you can’t help but flinch. The idol life isn't great for maintaining friendships and since you weren’t in a group, the only people you really had around you to talk to were your bodyguard Faris, Yoona and your dancers. You didn’t have a best friend, or even really friends in general, not since high school ended. 

‘Min!’ Chan calls out, glaring at the man. 

You square your shoulders and tilt your head, putting another fake smile on your face. ‘It’s fine, he’s right isn’t he.’ 

‘No, he’s not,’ Chan shakes his head. ‘Listen-’ 

‘It’s fine,’ you repeat, interrupting him. ‘How about I’ll show Jisung his office and we can go over the schedule for next week?’ 

Chan frowns down at you, sharing a look with Jisung and Yoona, but then he nods. You give him a nod back in thanks and without looking at any of the other guys you make a beeline for the door, hoping Jisung will follow you. 

‘Well, that went great,’ you hear someone say before you step outside. 

Faris frowns when he sees the look on your face, but he doesn’t say anything and falls into step behind you like he always does. It’s one of the things you love about him, he always knows when to not ask questions. You can hear him and Jisung quietly talking behind you, but you don’t mind, they know each other after all. 

‘Well, here we are,’ you say, opening the door of the small office area next to the studio you usually work at. ‘You can arrange everything how you like and if you need anything you can ask Yoona.’ 

‘I wasn’t expecting an office,’ Jisung smiles at you, stepping inside the room to take a look. 

It’s not much. Just a desk with a comfortable chair and a computer, a two person couch and in the corner there’s a bookcase that so far only houses a cactus, your first three albums and a box with documents your last assistant left behind. 

‘Of course you get an office, can’t have you shacking up with me in the studio,’ you say, trying to joke with him. 

‘Hey, about what Seungmin said,’ Jisung starts, sitting down in his desk chair and twirling around. ‘He’s just very serious about his job, he didn’t really mean the part about us not being your friends.’ 

‘It’s fine,’ you shrug. ‘You’re not really meant to be my friends anyways, you’re hired to protect me.’ 

‘Yeah, you don’t look too happy about that. Why is that?’ Jisung asks and he sounds genuinely curious. ‘I mean, sure we’re a whole lot, but isn’t it nice to know you’ll be safe?’ 

‘Safe? Yes. Watched by eight, I repeat, eight men? No thank you, I don’t need that.’ 

Jisung tilts his head and purses his lips in thought, like he’s actually trying to see this from your side. ‘I get it, I do, I’ve lived with most of them for the last few years and like I said, we can be a lot.’ 

‘But?’ you ask, falling down on the couch in front of Jisung’s new desk. ‘I feel there’s a but there.’ 

‘You really have no idea, do you?’ Jisung leans his chin on his palm as he looks at you. ‘We’ve seen the threats Y/N, we’ve seen the video’s of handsy fans, we’ve seen the footage of that dude trying to break into your house. It’s a miracle really that nothing has happened to you so far with only Faris by your side.’ 

‘He’s right, Nabi,’ Faris says from his spot by the door. 

‘Okay, maybe more than one bodyguard would be better,’ you say slowly. ‘But eight? I still think it’s a bit much, especially the undercover bit.’ 

Jisung shrugs and leans back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. ‘Maybe so, but at least you’ll know you will be safe.’ 

‘I guess,’ you mumble. 

‘Wanna go over the schedule for next week with me?’ Jisung asks. ‘Get your mind off all this for a bit?’ 

You jump up from the couch immediately and walk around the desk to stand next to him while he starts up the computer. 

****

About half an hour later you’re fairly confident Jisung will make a good assistant. He’s written down your interviews and gigs for the coming month and made a list of all the things he wanted to take care of before that. It was cute how he wanted to do it right. 

‘Knock, knock,’ a voice called out from the door and when you looked up you saw Chan and Changbin hugging Faris. 

‘How’s it going here?’ Chan smiles at you as he walks inside, his hands in his pocket. He probably tried to come off less intimidating like that, but it didn’t really work. 

‘Fine,’ you say, looking at the computer screen again. 

If you kept your eyes on him you’d probably drool all over your favorite studio outfit. That man was way too fine. 

‘It’s going great, Channie,’ Jisung says. ‘We’ve been getting along perfectly without the ice kings here.’ 

‘Don’t let them hear you call them that,’ Chan chuckles, moving to sit on the couch. ‘I hope we’ll be able to make this work, Y/N. I take great pride in my work and I’ll do anything I can to make you feel comfortable around us.’ 

Ugh. Why did he have to be so kind too? 

‘Thank you,’ you mutter, your eyes still on the screen. 

‘We’ll promise not to impose your privacy too much when we move in, but–’ 

Your head snaps up to look at him then and from the corner of your eyes you notice Jisung covering his face with his hands. 

‘What did you just say?’ you ask, standing up. ‘Please tell me I didn’t just hear you say the words moving in?’ 

‘Uhm,’ Chan tilts his head in confusion. ‘I thought you knew?’ 

‘Knew. What?’ you growl, your fingers balling up in fists. 

‘Oh boy,’ Jisung whispers and you turn to glare at him. 

‘You knew about this?’ 

‘Uhm, we all did? And we figured so would you,’ he shrugs, looking at you with big innocent eyes. 

You close your eyes, not at all immune to those brown doe eyes. If you keep looking at him you will stop being angry and you can’t do that. Not now. 

‘If somebody doesn’t tell me very soon what exactly this thing I’m supposed to know is, I will scream,’ you clench your jaw and take a shaky breath. 

This can’t be happening. They are not moving into your house with you. Yoona won’t do that to you, not after your talk this morning. Right? You close your eyes in frustration, already knowing the answer to your own question. She will. 

‘Such a drama queen,’ a new voice speaks up from the door and when you turn your head, already seeing red, you see Minho smirking at you. 

Changbin and Faris look concerned and when you look back at Chan, he actually looks like he’s pitying you. Fuck. 

‘Just say it already.’

‘Well, we’re supposed to move into your new house with you,’ Chan says, confirming it. 

Oh hell no. 

a/n: eeeeeeekkk I'm so excited for this series you have no idea!! I wasn't going to upload till tomorrow, but @staylovesmiley made me flip a coin and here I am at midnight, feeding you the first chapter.

Please let me know your thoughts <3

taglist: @jaeminie-cricket @jeonginsbaee @staylovesmiley @newbbystay @cashtonsbetch @mariahxrrera @kaleigh-2002 @silencionyx @smileykiddie08 @my-neurodivergent-world @yaorzu-blog @yoongiismylove2018 @staytinyluv @bookswillfindyouaway @queen-thiccness @notastraykid @ateez-atiny380 @estella-novella @furfoxsake22 @hyunjinhoexxx @insomnjen @hannahisnotblue @vivilovesuu @velvetmoonlght @skz8love @eastjonowhere @stellmeiv @bookishcaptain @flylis @deadpool15 @0325ale @thatgirlangelb @iknow-uknow-leeknow @nchhuhi @shycreationdreamland @readr1221 @beewilko

[bonbonly]

Thinking about Jealous Lewis x secretary reader!

I can just imagine reader getting to close to another male colleague. Maybe them lightly chatting in the break room or something and Lewis just not having it.

Maybe him making her sit under his desk cock warming him with her mouth.

OR maybe not letting her cum for like a week, but using his fuck machine chair (from the one anon you posted) to REALLY edge reader while she tries to work. And just all around keeping her desperate

Idk im just a slut for Lewis🤭

-❄️

❄️ anon you have outdone yourself i am going to be thinking about this for HOURS now

bon's thoughts (18+)

you're on break, eating your sandwich peacefully because your cunt is free from that machine. and in comes an intern who sits down next to you. he's talking about how he's almost done with his undergrad degree, and how he's hoping to get a job here soon permanently. you're smiling at him because he reminds you a lot of yourself when you were his age. young, curious, and... a lot innocent. you're laughing at his jokes, and you don't even know what the time is when a firm knock is heard. you snap your head to the doorway and see your boss, standing there with a glare on his face, arms crossed.

"lunch ended 15 minutes ago, you're late," he says, and then vanishes into the corner. you gulp, waving goodbye to the intern and heading back to your desk.

only to find a stack load of papers that's definitely going to have you working over time and the machine's already on, thrusting up and down, patiently waiting for you to come sit on its glorious cock. you glance out into the hallway to see lewis staring at you with a smirk on his face through the glass walls of his office. sending him a quick frown, you sigh out loud and head to your desk.

you spit on your fingers, rubbing your clit to prepare yourself before seating firmly onto the cock. it's almost routine at this point, and you're choking back moans because lewis has placed it on the highest setting. you grab the papers, and begin to look through the numbers, inputting them into the database on your monitor. work efficiency tests are important, lewis emailed you one day. he wants to make sure his employees can work through anything, whether it be distractions or simply put, cock.

and he's so cheeky about it too, because while you're trying to do your job properly, he's toying with the settings on his phone and he has cameras in every room anyway to make sure his employees are on task (your room is in his favorites tho) and he's watching you squirm and bounce. he edges you for the next 2 hours, and as the employees slowly trickle away one by one, he's turning the settings onto high and immediately turning it to low, making your whines louder as you're struggling to be quiet. you're screaming in frustration, knocking your keyboard onto the ground as you're planting your face onto the wooden desk, screaming about how you hate this and just want someone to fuck you for good. your office phone starts ringing and you grab it, holding it to your ear.

"feeling tired yet?" lewis's voice asks through the phone and your stubborn ass is quick to respond with,

"an employee is never tired when she's working."

to which in turn he giggles and your machine's on once again to the highest setting, which has you moaning out loud, crying tears of frustration. you're bouncing on the machine and you hear lewis on the other side, "no, no, no, stop it right now or i won't let you cum for an entire month."

"please, please, lewis-"

"mr. hamilton."

"mr. hamilton," you say, gritting your teeth because the last thing you could care about is giving him the title he wants, "please let me cum, i really want to cum."

"and why should i? you were more than happy to talk to that intern today," he scoffs, "i think you're good just like this sweetheart. i love hearing you beg for me like this."

"no, no, please... please i can't anymore," and then you scream out loud when he stops the machine altogether, "fuck! no, please, please im begging! im begging you, mr. hamilton, please let me cum, no, no, no, you need to let me cum!"

you hear a satisfied chuckle on the other side of the phone, "come to my office right now." and you're scrambling to his office, your pussy begging for the attention you believe you finally deserve.

but here you are, crying your eyes out as he has you sitting there, extremely still with his cock in your mouth under his desk. he's writing something on a piece of paper, twirling a fancy pen in his hands before he looks down at you and smiles, "how's my favorite secretary feeling?" and you're mumbling out a "horrible what about you" which makes me laugh out loud. he cups your cheek, his thumb brushing away your tears, "now you'll think twice about talking to that stupid intern," he smirks, "and no cumming for an entire month." which has you whining and screaming out loud, "ah, ah, ah, don't make me extend it to two months."

that shuts you up real fast. but, hey, at least he promised to give you a raise!

[inthemiddleofmae]

everything is romantic - paul mescal x reader

summary - you and paul take a trip to italy during the summer. lots of photo-taking and kissing.

word count: 761

a/n: everybody say thank to pedro pascal for these photos that have got me going absolutely feral!!!!!!!! it is absolutely freezing where i’m from and seasonal depression is getting to me so i’m writing something about summer to make me happy :) and thank you so much for the love on my last fic it means the world <3 i hope you enjoy this one just as much!!

the air smelt of salt and wild rosemary as you and paul walked down a narrow cobblestone street in the amalfi coast, hands locked together in a tight, loving embrace. paul had his beloved camera round his neck; a gift you had gotten him when you first started dating.

the sun was dipping low in the sky, casting a golden glow that seemed to warm everything it touched. the distant sound of waves crashing against the rocky shore played like a lullaby in the background.

“this doesn’t feel real,” you said, your voice tinged with awe as you glanced up at the laundry fluttering on balconies.

paul looked over at you, a loving smile playing on his lips. “you’ve said that every ten minutes since we got here.”

“well, it still doesn’t!” you shot back, bumping his shoulder lightly. “it's unlike anything i've ever seen before. how am i supposed to stop talking about it?”

he laughed, gently letting go of your hand so he could grab your waist and pull you even closer as you both wandered down the uneven path. “i like it when you ramble. means you’re happy.”

you felt your face suddenly get hot. “i'm not just happy. i’m...i don’t know. full.” you gestured around. “this place, this trip, being here with you - it’s everything.”

paul stopped walking and turned to face you, his blue eyes warm and soft as they searched your face. “you’re everything.” he said, and you swore you could actually feel your heart swell.

you wrapped your hands around paul's neck as he leaned down, brushing his lips against yours in a passionate series of pecks and one longer kiss that you both fought for control over. as you both realised your very public environment, you pulled back. you couldn’t help but smile as you rested your forehead against his.

“alright, lover boy,” you teased, though your voice was thick with affection. you stepped away from him and paused in front of a charming doorway painted a faded blue with potted geraniums clustered at its base. with a pout and a few bats of your eyelashes, you then said, "can you take a picture of me?"

rolling his eyes but unable to suppress his smile, paul raised the camera and pointed it at you.

you leaned against the blue door, tilting your head slightly as you brushed your hair back. paul snapped a few shots, then lowered the camera, his expression softening.

“alright, one more,” he said. “but don’t pose this time.”

“i wasn’t posing!”

“you definitely were,” he teased, lifting the camera again. “just laugh or something.”

you huffed a laugh at his instructions, and in that moment, he took a photo that he would never forget; your head was tilted back slightly, sunlight was on your face, and your eyes crinkled with happiness - he was unsure if he'd ever seen you look so beautiful.

when you realised paul had stopped taking photos and was now staring intensely at his camera, you ran forward and playfully smacked his arm. “let me see, babe.”

paul handed over the camera with a grin. as you scrolled through the pictures, you smile widened. “okay, these are actually really good. you’re getting better.”

“fuck off,” he said with a laugh, sliding an arm around your waist and pulling you close.

the two of you walked further down the street, but after a while decided to pause on a set of wide, sun-warmed stone steps to take a break from wandering. paul was in front of you, resting his elbows on his knees as he scrolled through his phone.

without a word, you picked up paul's camera that was still in your possession and adjusted the lens. the light hit him just right, illuminating the soft lines of his roman profile, his hair ruffled slightly from the breeze. you snapped a photo, then another, the sound of the shutter drawing his attention.

paul tilted his head at you and laughed. “you’re supposed to be taking pictures of the scenery, not me.”

“you’re part of the scenery,” you said cheekily, snapping another.

"alright give me back my camera - i'm starving, lets get some lunch." paul said, playfully snatching his camera out of your hand as he rose from his seat. he placed the camera back around his neck as he gave you his hand to help you rise from your own seat.

"you're my lunch, too,' you said, bringing your lips close to paul's ear once you had gotten up, and you watched his face turn pink.

[thedensworld]

Fortune Teller Confession | C.HS

Pairing: College Student! Hansol x reader

Genre: fluff, angst, friend to lover au!

Summary: No confession—no gig success. His logic-driven mind convinces him that it’s a harmless choice to make a confession over a fortune teller words, not realizing the emotional weight it carries.

Hansol watched as you walked out of the classroom, a little too quickly for his liking. You didn’t glance back, didn’t slow down, and didn’t even pause when Soonyoung called your name with a hopeful grin. Next to him, Soonyoung's face twisted into a pout.

“Again?” Soonyoung muttered, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pocket. “She didn’t even look at me.” He sighed like it was a personal betrayal.

Hansol frowned, his gaze lingering on the door you’d just left through. It wasn’t like you to avoid them — at least, not for this long. He tried to think back to the last time he’d had a proper conversation with you.

Five days ago?

A week?

It felt longer. Your schedule had been packed lately, full of classes, projects, and other commitments. But even when you were busy, you'd at least send a nod or a small wave. Lately, though, it felt like you were actively avoiding them.

Soonyoung tilted his head toward Hansol as they started walking down the corridor toward the campus cafeteria. “Tell me honestly,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “did you do something to her?”

Hansol shot him a confused look. “Why do you think it was me?” he asked, his tone defensive.

Soonyoung shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. “Because it’s definitely not me. I would never make her mad.”

“Oh, right, because you’re a saint,” Hansol muttered with a roll of his eyes.

“Not a saint, but I know how to keep my friends happy,” Soonyoung quipped, tapping his temple like he had it all figured out. “You, on the other hand, are... well…” He paused for dramatic effect, giving Hansol a once-over. “...an obnoxious person. So you wouldn’t even realize if you hurt somebody’s feelings.”

Hansol stopped walking. “That’s way too much to say to a friend,” he said, his brows pulling together in disbelief.

“Okay, okay, I take it back.” Soonyoung raised his hands in surrender, clearly not looking for a fight. He patted Hansol on the back. “But, you know, I’m just saying — think about it.”

Hansol didn’t respond, but the words lingered like an itch in the back of his mind. Had he done something? If he had, wouldn’t you have told him?

They reached the cafeteria and got in line to order food. As they waited, the familiar noise of clattering trays, snippets of conversations, and the faint hum of a pop song filled the air.

Soonyoung glanced at Hansol while tapping his fingers against the counter. “How’s the gig prep going?” he asked. “You nervous?”

Hansol glanced up at him. “of course,” he admitted. “I feel like if I’m nervous, it means I’m doing something right.”

“Hmm, I guess that’s true,” Soonyoung said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Sometimes, being a little nervous is good. Like when I apologized to my sister.”

Hansol raised a brow, his curiosity piqued. “You actually apologized to her? You?” he asked, letting out a short, incredulous laugh.

“Yeah, yeah,” Soonyoung said, waving him off as if it wasn’t a big deal. He grabbed his food tray from the counter. “It was tough, but I’m glad I did it.”

Hansol tilted his head, still grinning. “Did something change between you two?”

Soonyoung nodded, chewing thoughtfully on a mouthful of rice before answering. “Yeah, things are better now. I stopped getting ‘the glare’ every time I walked past her room.” He swallowed, then leaned in slightly, as if letting Hansol in on a secret. “I’m telling you, it’s because I listened to the fortune teller.”

Two weeks ago, Soonyoung had dragged Hansol to the hottest fortune teller near the campus gate. It wasn’t entirely random — their friend Jun had given the place a glowing five-star review, swearing that he got a girlfriend after following every bit of advice the fortune teller had given him.

“Bro, five stars,” Jun had said, eyes wide with conviction. “I did exactly what she said, and boom — I’m dating Yejin now.”

That was all the motivation Soonyoung needed. As the self-proclaimed “saddest single person in the world,” he decided it was finally time to seek help from the mystical forces of fate. Whether it was for entertainment or genuine desperation, Hansol wasn’t sure. But somehow, Soonyoung managed to drag him along.

The fortune teller’s place was a cozy, dimly lit room that smelled faintly of incense. Strings of beads framed the doorway, and the glow of warm, golden light made everything feel surreal. The fortune teller, a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes and a silk scarf tied around her head, welcomed them like she had been expecting them all day.

Soonyoung, full of energy, sat forward like a student ready to ace an exam. Hansol, on the other hand, leaned back, arms crossed, watching the whole thing with mild amusement.

After a short reading, the fortune teller told Soonyoung, “Your relationship with your sister is the mirror of your relationship with women.”

That got Soonyoung’s attention. He sat up straighter, blinking in surprise. "Huh?"

“You must mend that relationship,” she continued, eyes never leaving his. “If you do, the reflection will change, and so will your luck.”

She handed him three steps to repair the bond with his sister, each one oddly specific. Hansol didn’t remember all of them, but one was definitely “buy her something without expecting anything in return.”

Now, two weeks later, Soonyoung was beaming like he’d won the lottery.

“As you know,” Soonyoung said, eyes glinting with excitement as he jabbed his chopsticks toward Hansol, “Mina from the Broadcasting major actually replied to my DM. No one ever does that.”

Hansol glanced up from his tray, raising a brow in surprise. “No way.”

“Yes way!” Soonyoung grinned, pointing at himself. “I’m telling you, man, the fortune teller knows her stuff.”

Hansol couldn’t hold back his laughter, shaking his head as a small chuckle slipped out. “That’s actually amazing, bro. I’m happy for you.”

“Right? Right?” Soonyoung beamed, clearly riding the high of his "success." But then his eyes narrowed as he zeroed in on Hansol. “Wait. What about you?”

Hansol blinked, confused. “What about me?”

“You,” Soonyoung said, eyes sharp with suspicion. “Have you done that yet?”

Right after Soonyoung’s session ended, the fortune teller had stopped them just as they were about to leave. Her gaze had locked on Hansol like she could see straight through him.

“Wait,” she had said, tilting her head as if something invisible had just come into focus. “You have something unresolved too.”

Hansol had paused mid-step, frowning as he glanced at her. “Me?”

Her eyes didn’t waver. “There’s a blockage in your energy,” she said, her voice calm but certain. “It’s tied to your music career.”

That had caught his attention.

“Soon, you will stand in front of a large crowd of people,” she continued, her hands hovering over her cards. “But something will go wrong — a technical malfunction, perhaps.” She lifted her gaze to meet his eyes. “If you want to avoid it, you must remove the blockage.”

Hansol raised an eyebrow. “And how am I supposed to do that?”

The fortune teller’s lips curled into a small smile. “Confess,” she said simply. “You must confess your feelings to the person you like.”

Soonyoung’s gasp was so loud it could have shattered glass. His head whipped toward Hansol, eyes wide with unfiltered shock and excitement. “YOU LIKE SOMEONE?!” he whisper-shouted, like it was the biggest secret in the world.

Hansol shot him a glare, his face twisting in disbelief. “I don’t.”

“Then why is she telling you to confess?” Soonyoung said, practically bouncing in place. He squinted at Hansol, leaning in with all the intensity of a detective interrogating a suspect. “Who is it? Who do you like?”

Hansol waved him off, already walking toward the door. “I don’t like anyone,” he muttered, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. “She’s just making stuff up.”

“Pffft,” Soonyoung scoffed, trotting after him. “Fortune tellers don’t just ‘make stuff up.'" He jabbed at Hansol’s side with his elbow. “Come on, just admit it. You’ve been holding out on me this whole time, huh? I told you everything, Hansol. My crushes, my heartbreaks, the time I accidentally liked my crush’s old selfie from 2018 at 3 a.m. — I shared it all.”

“Yeah, and I’m still trying to forget that story,” Hansol shot back, his lips twitching with a grin.

“Don’t deflect,” Soonyoung said, eyes narrowing in fake seriousness. “If you like someone, you have to tell me. That’s the bro code.”

“I. Don’t. Like. Anyone,” Hansol said, emphasizing every word with a jab of his finger. “The fortune teller’s wrong.”

“Mm-hmm,” Soonyoung hummed, still unconvinced. He tilted his head, giving Hansol a knowing look. “You’re being awfully defensive for someone with nothing to hide.”

Hansol clicked his tongue, exasperated. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re in denial.” Soonyoung smirked, stuffing a spoonful of rice into his mouth, his eyes never leaving Hansol.

They sat in silence for a while, the only sounds being the clatter of trays and the murmur of students around them. Hansol chewed slowly, gaze fixed on the table. His mind wandered back to the fortune teller’s words.

"Confess if you want to open the blockage."

It was silly. Ridiculous, even. He didn’t like anyone. There was no one in his life that made his heart race or made him feel unsteady. No one.

“But she did say your performance would be affected,” Soonyoung pointed out, his voice serious for once.

Hansol let out a long, heavy sigh, his fingers drumming against the table. His logical mind told him the fortune teller’s words were nonsense — just vague predictions designed to mess with people’s heads. But somewhere, tucked in a quiet corner of his mind, a small voice whispered that maybe he shouldn’t ignore it. Not when the band had poured weeks of effort into preparing for the gig.

“Do you really think my energy is that important to the band?” Hansol muttered, tilting his head back against the chair. “There’s five of us. It’s not like I’m carrying the whole thing on my back.”

Soonyoung squinted, deep in thought. “That’s an interesting point,” he admitted. “But you’re the leader.” He stabbed his spoon into his rice like it emphasized his point. “That’s probably why.”

Hansol groaned, dragging his hands through his hair in frustration. “I don’t want the performance to be disappointing,” he muttered, his fingers gripping at the strands like he could pull the stress right out of his head.

“Then just do what she said,” Soonyoung said with a shrug, like it was the simplest solution in the world.

“I told you, I don’t like anyone,” Hansol shot back, voice firm but tinged with doubt.

Soonyoung raised an eyebrow, his lips pressing into a slow, knowing pout. He leaned forward, squinting at Hansol like he was inspecting him under a microscope. “You’re getting way too worked up for someone who doesn’t like anyone,” he said, pointing at Hansol with his chopsticks.

“I don’t,” Hansol repeated, but the way his eyes darted away made Soonyoung's grin grow wider.

“Uh-huh.” Soonyoung dragged out the sound, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Hansol rubbed his temples, clearly done with the conversation. He’d argue, but he knew Soonyoung had a way of turning everything into a game he couldn’t win.

“Then just confess to anyone,” Soonyoung suggested, half-joking. “Boom, problem solved. No blockage, no bad energy, just vibes.” He snorted at his own ridiculous idea. “Actually, wait, that’s a terrible idea. Don’t do that.”

But Hansol froze. His eyes widened, and his hands slowly lowered from his hair. He stared at Soonyoung like he’d just unlocked the secrets of the universe.

“That’s…” Hansol said, eyes narrowing as his face shifted from confusion to excitement. He pointed both hands at Soonyoung, grinning like a kid who just figured out how to cheat a board game. “That’s actually a fantastic idea!”

Soonyoung’s whole face scrunched in horror. “No, it’s not, bro!” He shoved his tray to the side, waving his hands like he could physically erase the idea from existence. “Take it back! Forget I said it!”

But it was too late. Hansol's mind was already racing, the gears turning at lightning speed. “All I have to do is confess to someone,” he said, tapping his fingers against the table with renewed energy. “It doesn’t matter who, right? I just have to confess and the performance will go smoothly.” His eyes gleamed with confidence. “That’s it. Easy.”

Soonyoung's eyes darted around like he was looking for an escape route. “No, no, no! I shouldn’t have said that.” He shook his head, panic growing in his voice. “You’re taking it too literally, man.”

But Hansol wasn’t listening anymore. He was already planning. His foot tapped against the floor, and he rubbed his hands together like he’d just been handed a winning lottery ticket. “Okay, okay. Casual confession,” he muttered to himself, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. “No pressure, no drama, just simple and clean. I can do that.”

Soonyoung watched in pure disbelief, his jaw hanging open. “This… this is not how logic works, Hansol.” He pointed both hands at him, eyes wide with warning. “This is going to backfire so badly, I can feel it.”

“Doubt me all you want,” Hansol said, grinning like a man on a mission. “But when that gig goes off without a hitch, you’ll be thanking me.”

Soonyoung dropped his head into his hands with a groan, his voice muffled by his palms. “I can already hear the disaster coming.”

*

“Hey, can we talk tomorrow?”

Hansol sat on one of the benches, his gaze fixed on his phone, scrolling mindlessly as he waited. The faint rustle of leaves above him was the only sound until he heard the soft crunch of footsteps on the gravel path.

Lifting his head, he spotted you walking toward him, a smile already tugging at your lips despite the obvious weight of the stack of books in your arms. His eyes softened at the sight of you.

He stood up quickly, shoving his phone into his pocket, and walked over to meet you halfway. Without a word, he reached for the books, carefully taking the stack from your arms. His fingers brushed against yours for a second, a brief, unspoken connection neither of you acknowledged aloud.

"Where are you heading with all these books?” he asked, glancing down at the pile in his hands. “Planning to build a personal library or something?”

You sighed, stretching your now-free arms. “Just finished a group project, and somehow I got stuck being the one to return all the books. Alone.”

Hansol snorted, a low, amused sound as he glanced at you. “Classic group project logic,” he said, shifting the books in his grip to hold them more comfortably. “Here, I’ll help you return these, and then we can talk.”

You blinked, tilting your head. “You sure? I can handle it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, already walking ahead. He glanced over his shoulder, flashing you a casual grin. “I’m not about to let you haul a whole library on your own.”

You followed him, your pace matching his, and together you made your way toward the campus library. The sun filtered through the trees, casting patches of golden light onto the path. The air was warm but breezy, carrying with it the distant hum of student chatter.

At the entrance of the library, Hansol paused, holding the door open for you with his shoulder as he balanced the books. You slipped past him with a quiet "thanks" before he followed you inside. The familiar scent of old paper and clean air-conditioning greeted you both.

Hansol stayed by your side as you approached the return desk, placing the stack of books on the counter with a relieved sigh, as if he’d carried them across continents. He leaned on the edge of the counter, eyes following you as you handled the administration process.

“So,” you said, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, “what did you want to talk about?”

His posture straightened, his fingers tapping idly against the countertop. “I’ll tell you once we’re done here,” he said, offering you a small, unreadable smile.

But his gaze lingered on you a second too long.

He knew he had to do it soon.

The fortune teller’s words echoed in his mind, as stupid as they were. “There’s a blockage in your energy. To clear it, you must confess to the one you like.” He could still hear Soonyoung’s gasp of betrayal beside him. “You like someone?” he'd whispered like it was the juiciest secret of the year.

Hansol shook his head, shoving the memory aside. He didn’t like anyone, but he did care about his band. If there was even a 1% chance that this superstition had some truth to it, he couldn’t risk it. They’d been working too hard for this gig to flop.

You returned from the counter, brushing off your hands. “All done.”

Hansol nodded, stepping aside to hold the door open for you. The two of you walked out of the library, sunlight filtering in through the tall glass windows of the campus hallway. Students passed by, some in pairs, others in groups, all caught up in their own conversations.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

It’s just Y/n.

No big deal.

He knew you well enough to know you wouldn’t make this complicated. You wouldn’t take it seriously. You were too practical for that.

“Hey,” he started, voice steady but a little quieter.

You glanced up at him. “Hm?”

He stopped walking. You took two steps ahead before noticing, turning to face him with a curious look.

He shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket, fingers fidgeting with loose threads. His heart wasn’t racing, but his mind was unusually loud. He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t real. It didn’t mean anything.

But still, he felt his throat go dry.

“I like you,” he said.

It came out fast. Too fast. Not smooth at all. His eyes flicked up to you, watching for your reaction.

Your face froze. Wide eyes. Lips parted slightly, like you’d misheard him.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hansol cleared his throat, shifting his weight to one leg. “I like you,” he said again, slower, more controlled this time.

Your brows furrowed as confusion settled in. You didn’t speak, and that silence was heavier than anything he’d prepared for. Why aren’t you saying anything?

“Okay,” he said quickly, snapping his fingers like he’d just remembered something. “So, before you freak out, it’s not, like… real.” He scratched the back of his head, glancing to the side. “It’s for the performance.”

Your eyes stayed on him, unblinking.

He sucked in a breath, forcing himself to explain. “Soonyoung and I went to see this fortune teller a couple weeks ago. She told me there’s this… ‘blockage’ or something that’ll mess up our gig unless I confess to the person I like.” He raised his eyebrows like it should be obvious. “But I don’t like anyone. So, I figured—” He tilted his head toward you, lips curling into a grin. “—I’ll just confess to you.”

You didn’t move.

“You’re my friend,” he added with a casual shrug, trying to sound as natural as possible. “I knew you’d get it. It’s not a big deal. Just, like, a technicality.”

More silence.

Hansol felt something twist in his chest, like the air pressure had shifted around him. He didn’t know why it felt weird, but it did. He’d expected a laugh from you, maybe a playful shove or a snarky comment. Something normal.

“Okay,” you said, your voice quieter than he’d ever heard it.

He blinked. “Okay?”

You nodded once, eyes flicking to the side like you didn’t want to look at him. “Yeah. Sure.”

Relief washed over him so fast it almost felt dizzying. His grin returned, this time more genuine. “See? I knew you’d get it.”

He glanced at his phone, eyes widening slightly. “Oh, shoot. I’ve got practice soon.” He took a step back, his mind already shifting to his next priority. “Thanks for this, Y/n. You’re a real one.”

He raised a hand in a wave as he turned to leave. “See you later!”

He didn’t look back.

He didn’t think to.

Why would he?

It had gone exactly as he’d expected — smooth, simple, and free of any awkwardness. You’d understood. You always understood him. It’s why he’d picked you in the first place.

As he walked, he felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. His band would be fine. The gig would be a success. The "blockage" was gone, whatever that meant.

The sound of students chatting around him faded into background noise. His mind buzzed with thoughts of the upcoming setlist, the soundchecks, and which songs they should open with.

Should they start with something upbeat or something more atmospheric?

He scratched the side of his head, lips curling into a grin at the thought. They’d kill it. He knew they would.

But as he reached the next hallway, something tugged at him. Not physically, but like a small, sharp pull on his thoughts. He glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see nothing at all.

But his eyes lingered on the empty hallway behind him.

You weren’t there.

You’d probably gone in the opposite direction, maybe heading to class or meeting up with friends. That was normal. Totally normal.

He turned forward again, walking faster this time.

So why did it feel like he’d forgotten something?

Why did it feel like he’d missed something important?

Hansol shook his head, hands stuffed back into his hoodie pocket. You’re overthinking it.

But his fingers fidgeted with the loose thread again, and his mind couldn’t seem to settle.

*

"Hey, you’re daydreaming."

Joshua’s voice snapped you back to reality, a light jab landing on your side. Your eyes flickered to him, your closest friend in the photography club, and then to the rest of the room. Everyone was staring at you.

Oh no.

The club leader tilted her head, clearly waiting for a response. "I asked if you’d be willing to report on The Gigs next week."

Heat rushed to your face. You nodded quickly, forcing a polite smile. "Ah, yeah, sure. I can do it."

Her eyes lingered on you for a second longer before she moved on, resuming the discussion. You sank lower in your chair, feeling Joshua stifle a laugh beside you. He didn’t say anything, but the amused glint in his eyes said it all.

When the meeting finally wrapped up, you were already halfway out the door when Joshua caught up to you. He grinned, pulling a small candy from his pocket. “Here,” he said, handing you his favorite coffee-flavored treat.

“Thanks,” you muttered, unwrapping it immediately and popping it into your mouth.

“You good?” he asked as you both stepped outside, the cool breeze hitting your face. "You were totally out of it back there."

You glanced at him, shrugging. "Just… had a lot on my mind."

Joshua nodded knowingly. "Don’t tell me it’s about that draft. Mine’s still stuck, too."

The two of you wandered down the pathway toward the nearby campus cafe. He shoved his hands in his coat pockets, his breath forming little clouds of fog in the air.

The draft. Right.

The club had tasked every member with coming up with a new program idea to boost engagement and attract more students to join. Your idea was Cupid Pic — a playful service where students could request anonymous photos of their crushes, which would then be posted on the Student Daily Web. The twist? If two people happened to request photos of each other without knowing, they'd be notified of the "cupid match." It was fun, cheeky, and surprisingly wholesome.

You'd been so excited about it at first. So much so that you'd shared the idea with Soonyoung and Hansol one evening at Soonyoung’s apartment studio. The three of you had spent hours brainstorming catchy slogans and working out the logistics of how to involve the Broadcasting students for video teasers. You remembered how Hansol had thrown out ridiculous ideas like, “Make them wear angel wings while taking the photos,” which Soonyoung fully supported for the chaos alone.

Soonyoung had tapped out early, collapsing on the couch after too many shots of soju, muttering something about "the stars aligning." But you and Hansol had stayed up. Just the two of you. The warmth of the room, the faint hum of music, and the quiet conversation felt… different. Intimate, even.

Maybe that’s why it all spilled out of you.

You didn’t mean to dump your worries on him. But with Soonyoung snoring in the background and the soft glow of the desk lamp hitting Hansol’s face just right, you felt something unspoken loosen in your chest.

“I feel like I’m barely holding everything together,” you’d admitted, your voice quieter than usual. “Class, part-time shifts, the club, this stupid project… and now one of my friends reported me to the professor for missing too many classes. I mean, yeah, I missed a few, but I had valid reasons. She didn’t even ask me. She just… reported me.”

Your throat had felt tight saying it all out loud. You didn’t expect Hansol to say anything — maybe a simple, “That sucks, Y/n.” But he didn’t do that.

Instead, he leaned forward, his eyes soft with a kind of patience you’d never really seen from him before. Hansol, the logical one. Hansol, the sharp-tongued realist. But that night, he was… gentle.

“Sounds like you’ve been carrying too much,” he said quietly. His voice wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t rushed. It was slow, steady, like every word was placed carefully so it wouldn’t crack you open any further.

Your eyes stung a little, and you hated it. You hated how one kind sentence had more impact than all the self-reassurances you’d told yourself in the mirror.

“You’re doing fine,” he added. “Actually, you’re doing more than fine. You're managing all this at once — that's impressive. People don't get how hard that is.”

It wasn’t much. Just a few words. But in that moment, it felt like he’d seen you — really seen you — in a way no one else had.

He didn’t tell you to “just work harder” or “push through.” He didn’t tell you that you were overreacting. He just listened.

Somewhere between his words and the soft glow of that lamp, you felt something shift.

Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered on you for a second too long.

Maybe it was the warmth in his voice that you hadn’t heard before.

Or maybe it was just you, feeling too vulnerable, too raw, too desperate for someone to tell you it was okay to slow down.

But you knew it, clear as day.

That was the moment you realized — I think I like him.

It wasn’t immediate, like some storybook cliché where your heart suddenly skips and angels start singing. No, it was quiet, slow, like the weight of realization settling over your shoulders. Your chest felt heavier, and your head felt lighter, like you’d been dropped into unfamiliar territory.

You'd stayed up with him a little longer, letting the conversation drift to other things, but that moment stayed with you. Even when you went home that night, it replayed in your head over and over. His voice. His gaze. His words.

By the next day, you realized it was easier to avoid him than to face what you’d discovered.

If you didn’t see him, you wouldn’t have to deal with the way your heart sped up around him.

If you didn’t talk to him, you wouldn’t have to remember how it felt to be seen so clearly.

If you didn’t stand too close, you wouldn’t have to hear the echo of his voice telling you that you were doing fine.

So, you avoided him. Not in any obvious way. Just small things. Picking a seat on the opposite side of the room. Leaving class a little earlier. Responding later to group chats. It was stupid. Childish, even. But it was safer.

You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. It’s not like he likes me anyway.

But then, yesterday happened.

“I like you,” he’d said, just like that.

His words echoed in your mind like an annoying replay button that wouldn't turn off.

“I like you.”

At first, you’d frozen, your brain struggling to process it. And then, like a fool, you’d let yourself hope. Your heart had done that stupid leap it always did when you thought maybe, just maybe…

But it only lasted a second.

“But it’s not real. It’s for the band.”

He’d smiled, so casual, so unbothered, as if it was all part of some inside joke.

“You’re my friend. I knew you’d get it.”

You had nodded. Of course you nodded. What else were you supposed to do?

He’d walked away smiling. Light. Unburdened.

You stood there, your chest still heavy, like you'd swallowed all the words you wanted to say.

Stupid.

Idiot.

Asshole.

“Y/n?”

Joshua's voice cut through the spiral, and you blinked, realizing you’d been chewing on the coffee candy too hard. The bitterness had turned sharp in your mouth.

“You okay?” he asked, his brow raised in concern.

You uncurled your fingers from the crumpled candy wrapper in your pocket, feeling the imprint of it against your palm. Calm down, Y/N.

“I’m fine,” you muttered. “Just thinking too much.”

Joshua gave you a long look, like he wasn’t sure whether to believe you. But in the end, he shrugged it off. "Alright. Just don't overdo it. We still have drafts to finish, yeah?"

“Yeah,” you said, stuffing the wrapper into your pocket. "I’ll finish it.”

But as you walked with him toward the cafe, the taste of coffee lingered on your tongue, sharp and bitter.

Just like the feeling you’d been trying to forget.

*

The smell of grilled meat wafted through the apartment as Soonyoung shouted from the kitchen, "Open the door for me!" His voice was strained, probably from the concentration it took to flip the meat perfectly.

You had just finished changing into the borrowed sweater and sweatpants Soonyoung had tossed your way. It was one of his newer pieces — oversized, soft, and surprisingly comfortable. After folding your work clothes neatly on the chair, you headed to the front door, tugging the sleeves over your fingers.

When you pulled the door open, your heart did a sudden flip. Hansol stood there, framed by the dim hallway light. Black T-shirt snug on his frame, denim jacket casually draped over his shoulders, and those stupid cargo pants with "chill guy" printed boldly on the thigh. You'd teased him about them before.

His eyes scanned you briefly before his lips curled into a familiar, lopsided grin. "That sweater looks better on you than it does on him." His gaze lingered for a beat longer, and you recognized it — the sweater he'd given Soonyoung for his birthday this year.

"Everything looks good on me lately," you shot back, flipping your hair with mock confidence as you stepped aside to let him in.

Hansol let out a quiet snort, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. "Alright, superstar," he muttered, carrying in the bags of groceries Soonyoung had texted him to bring.

You followed him to the kitchen, leaning against the counter as Soonyoung waved his tongs in your direction. "Look who decided to show up after three weeks of radio silence!" He held up three fingers in front of your face like it was a major scandal.

You rolled your eyes, nudging his arm to move him aside. "I've been working, Soonyoung. Not everyone can live a life of leisure like you."

"Leisure?" He scoffed, flipping the meat with unnecessary force. "You act like I’m not hosting this Michelin-star-level barbecue for you guys. You should be grateful, Y/n."

You snorted but didn’t respond, letting the familiar warmth of their banter settle over you. For a moment, it almost felt normal. Hansol was sorting through the bags, pulling out soda cans and snacks like it was just another casual night. Soonyoung was fussing over his grill with too much enthusiasm, and the smell of searing meat filled the air.

But that “three weeks” comment echoed louder than you wanted it to. Three weeks since you’d hung out properly. Three weeks since Soonyoung had badgered you into late-night ramen runs. Three weeks since you’d willingly stayed in a room with Hansol for longer than ten minutes.

The realization must have hit him too because Hansol glanced at you from over his shoulder, eyes flickering with something like curiosity. His hands slowed as he set down a bottle of soda. “Yeah,” he said, voice quieter this time. “We haven’t hung out in a while, huh?”

You shrugged, feigning indifference. “Guess not.”

Soonyoung glanced between the two of you like he was watching the first act of a drama. He wiggled his eyebrows, lips pursed in exaggerated interest. "Oooh, tension."

"Shut up," you and Hansol said at the same time.

"Okay, okay, geez." Soonyoung threw his hands up, grinning like a troublemaker who just set off a firecracker. "I’m just saying, tonight is reunion night for our little trio. So no work talk, no avoidance, no mysterious disappearances. We’re all staying until dawn."

"Bold of you to assume I’m not sneaking out at 2 a.m.," you muttered, grabbing a soda from the pile Hansol had unpacked.

Soonyoung narrowed his eyes at you. “Bold of you to underestimate me.”

Soonyoung wasn't exactly the sharpest in the group, but he had an annoying knack for reading the room. That was why you’d been trying so hard to act normal around Hansol tonight. Every glance Soonyoung threw your way felt like a spotlight, and you hated it. You shouldn’t have come. Stupid decision.

But after an hour, the unease started to wear off. The alcohol certainly helped with that. You’d had more drinks than usual — more than even Soonyoung, the self-proclaimed "party endurance king." At one point, he actually tried to stop you, waving his hands in front of your face like you were about to push a red button.

“Hey, hey, easy there, Y/n. That’s your third drink in, like, ten minutes,” he said, eyes squinting in concern. "Bad day or something?"

You only hummed in response, lifting the cup to your lips again.

“Desperation. I get it,” Soonyoung sighed, plopping down on the couch beside you. He tilted his head back dramatically. “We’ve all been there. Even Hansol and I went to a fortune teller.”

Hansol, who’d been scrolling on his phone, looked up, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Don’t lump me in with you like I went there on purpose.”

“Okay, but you got a reading too, didn’t you?” Soonyoung shot back, jabbing his thumb in Hansol's direction. His grin was all teeth, clearly proud of his "gotcha" moment.

Hansol rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath as he shoved his phone into his pocket.

Soonyoung wasn’t done, though. He turned his attention to you, gesturing wildly like he was narrating a grand tale. “Yes, so we went to a fortune teller,” he repeated, leaning toward you like he was about to reveal a state secret.

“I know,” you muttered, taking another sip.

Soonyoung blinked, his head tilting to the side. “Huh? I never told you that. How do you know?”

Your eyes flickered toward Hansol, who had suddenly gone very still. You pointed at him, arm a little wobbly from the drinks. “He told me.”

The room went quiet for half a beat.

Soonyoung’s eyes darted between the two of you like he was watching a live plot twist unfold. His mouth parted in shock. “You guys… talked? Without me?”

He sounded more offended than curious, like you’d committed some great betrayal.

Hansol groaned, his head falling into his hands. "Oh my God, Soonyoung, it’s not that deep."

“It is that deep!” Soonyoung gasped, clutching his chest like you’d personally wounded him. “How could you, Y/n? I thought I was the main character of your friendship arc!”

"You're the comic relief, Soonyoung," you deadpanned, reaching for the half-empty drink in front of you.

"Comic relief?!" He clutched his heart again, this time with more flair, like he'd been hit with a spear. "I am the glue that holds this trio together."

You snorted, trying to hold back a laugh, and for a moment, it actually felt normal again. Except for the weight pressing down on your chest every time Hansol glanced your way.

"Want to hear something funny?" Soonyoung grinned mischievously. "This guy has to make a confession if he wants his gig to succeed, and he says he doesn’t like anyone!"

He burst into laughter, clearly enjoying Hansol’s discomfort. Hansol groaned, slouching in his chair. "Go ahead, laugh. My life is a comedy," he retorted sarcastically.

"So, Romeo," Soonyoung teased, raising his eyebrows, "your gig is in three days. Have you done it yet?"

Hansol stayed silent, his eyes wandering to you. You were busy pouring yourself another shot of soju, trying to drown out the chaos around you. The weight in your chest was growing heavier with every passing minute, but you tried to focus on anything other than the situation at hand.

"So, Y/n," Soonyoung continued, turning his attention to you, "what do you think? Should he just confess to anyone to make his performance successful, or should he ignore the fortune teller's advice?"

The question hit you like a brick, and a lump immediately formed in your throat. You didn’t know how to answer.

"But I think he won’t do it," Soonyoung added with a sly smile. "Why? Because this guy is all logic. He’s a T," Soonyoung said, referencing Hansol’s MBTI type — Thinking, not Feeling.

You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the mounting frustration in your chest, but you found yourself muttering under your breath, "Confession is not a game. You shouldn’t play with it."

Soonyoung, to his credit, nodded in agreement. "Yes, exactly. Here here!"

You continued, your voice quieter now, a little heavier. "You think it’s easy to just confess to someone for the sake of success? That’s selfish." You could feel the anger simmering beneath your words. "But I guess, people can be like that. They don’t think about others' feelings."

The moment your words left your mouth, you glanced up at Hansol, only to find his gaze fixed on you. His expression was unreadable, but there was a certain tension in the air now, thick and uncomfortable. For the first time, you realized he was actually paying attention to what you were saying.

In that moment, everything felt overwhelming. You had spent the evening carefully balancing your emotions, trying not to let the bitterness and disappointment leak out, but it was becoming impossible. Soonyoung's teasing and Hansol's casual confession — the one that had hurt more than you wanted to admit — were circling in your mind, making it harder to breathe.

Soonyoung froze mid-action, his hand suspended in the air with the shot glass still waiting to meet his lips. The atmosphere shifted, and he squinted at you, his tone playful but with a hint of confusion. "What's up with you tonight? You're a bit... deep?"

You sighed, feeling a knot tighten in your chest. You quickly gathered your things, not meeting anyone's eyes. "I think I should go. I’ll pick up my clothes tomorrow morning, is that okay?" you asked Soonyoung, your voice quieter than usual as you stood up from your seat.

Soonyoung blinked, looking at you with a mix of surprise and concern. "What? What's wrong with you?"

But you didn’t answer. You had already made up your mind to leave. The weight of the evening, mixed with the alcohol, had created a fog in your thoughts, and you just wanted to escape. You needed space to sort through your feelings, to put some distance between you and Hansol, who had somehow managed to worm his way into your heart even though you tried so hard to keep it at bay. The fact that he still had this effect on you, that you were still torn between anger and something softer, was suffocating.

You could feel your emotions stirring as you moved toward the door, the anger bubbling under the surface. How could he say all those things and then act like it didn’t matter? How could he confess without meaning it and expect everything to be fine? You had convinced yourself that leaving was the only way to avoid losing control of your feelings, to protect yourself from further hurt.

You closed the door. But then Hansol's hand on your arm stopped you in your tracks. His grip was gentle, but firm. His touch, so simple and yet so familiar, sent a jolt of something through you. You weren’t sure if it was anger or longing, or a dangerous mix of both. You wanted to pull away, to push him out of your thoughts for good, but somehow, standing there with him felt like an emotional standoff. You could feel your heart racing, unsure of whether you should let the tears you were holding back spill or just walk away from it all.

"What do you mean?" Hansol asked, confusion and frustration lacing his voice.

"Let me go, I'm tired," you replied, your voice barely a whisper as you tried to pull away.

But Hansol wasn't having it. He turned your body to face him, his grip firm yet gentle. "Not until you explain. Were you referring to me?"

You stared at him, exasperated, as the words tumbled out, "What do you want to hear? That I wasn't?"

Hansol's gaze softened, but his frustration was palpable. "Yes, I was referring to you because I think Soonyoung's right. If you're as logical as you say you are, you shouldn't be doing whatever the fortune teller told you."

You scoffed, your voice bitter, "And you really think that confessing to your friend is going to fix everything?"

Hansol ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight. "Y/n, I was desperate. You heard him — the fortune teller said my performance would flop if I didn't confess. I had no choice!"

"By confessing to your friend?" You spat, the hurt in your voice evident.

Hansol's eyes widened, his voice rising as the emotion spilled over. "Because you're my friend! I thought you'd understand! You always have!"

There was a tense silence between you both, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Finally, you let out a heavy sigh, your shoulders slumping under the burden of it all.

"So, it was easier for you to confess to your friend? To use them for your own benefit?" you asked, your tone sharp and cutting.

Hansol closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Okay, I'm sorry. I didn't expect it to turn out like this. I thought you'd understand, Y/n. You're my friend."

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "Because I'm your friend, you thought it would be easier to confess to me? Don't you think about the consequences, Hansol? Or is it all about your performance?"

His face twisted with frustration as he stepped closer. "It’s important to me, Y/n!"

You took a step back, feeling the sting of his words. "I never said your performance wasn’t important, but have you ever thought about the consequences? When you decided to confess to me, did you even consider my feelings?"

Before Hansol could respond, Soonyoung’s voice interrupted the charged silence. "You confessed to Y/n?" He stood in the doorway, his face a mix of shock and disbelief at the revelation.

The tension in the room hung thick, and you could feel the knot in your stomach tighten. This was not how you imagined things would play out.

*

When Soonyoung heard you sob, his heart sank. He knew it then—he knew both he and Hansol had messed up. Without a word, he let you go, his hand stopping Hansol from following.

"Let her go," Soonyoung said, his voice unusually calm, but there was an underlying firmness. "She needs time."

"But—" Hansol protested, his voice full of urgency.

"No buts, man. You hurt her. Don’t you get it?" Soonyoung’s voice, surprisingly soft for someone who had just witnessed a betrayal, cut through the air. It was like the weight of everything had finally hit him—Hansol had confessed to you because of some ridiculous fortune teller's prediction, without considering the consequences.

Both of them sat in silence, the remnants of the food and drinks ignored, their minds consumed by your face—the betrayal in your eyes, the way your mouth gaped for breath, and the tears that welled up in your eyes.

Soonyoung broke the silence first. "You did it, huh?" His tone was more of a statement than a question. Hansol shook his head, clearly not ready to confront the reality of what he had done.

"You're the most oblivious guy I've ever known," Soonyoung continued, his frustration bubbling up. "How could you not see it? She likes you, Hansol."

Hansol turned his head toward Soonyoung, still confused. "What are you talking about?"

Soonyoung sighed heavily, rubbing his face with his hand. "See? You don't even understand." He stood up, his movements mechanical as he began cleaning his apartment, as if the action would help him clear his mind.

"I'm going to sleep. Feel free to stay," he said quietly, before turning off the light and retreating to his room.

Hansol remained on the couch, the weight of Soonyoung's words sinking in, but his mind still swirling with disbelief. He had made a mistake—one that could cost him everything.

Hansol sat motionless on the couch, his eyes staring blankly at the empty room around him. Soonyoung's words echoed in his mind like a haunting refrain—She likes you. The weight of it crushed him, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a sharp, raw vulnerability that he wasn’t used to.

He had always seen you as someone amazing—smart, driven, with a kindness that radiated in everything you did. You were the kind of person who had everything going for her, someone who seemed untouchable, like she existed in a world beyond his reach. He had always admired you from afar, but he never allowed himself to consider that you could have feelings for him.

You were... too good for him.

He had been convinced that someone like you would never be interested in someone like him. He was logical, maybe a little too blunt, a little too wrapped up in his own world. He couldn’t imagine you, with your warmth and grace, ever wanting to be with someone like him. So, he built up this wall in his mind, telling himself that he was better off staying in his lane, quietly admiring you from the sidelines. He didn't want to risk embarrassing himself by thinking he could ever be more than a friend to you.

But now, in the aftermath of his reckless confession, Hansol couldn't help but wonder—did you actually like him?

His chest tightened at the thought. The way you had reacted earlier—the way you had looked at him—did it mean something? Had you been feeling something for him this whole time? Or had he just completely misread everything, making a mess of it all with his desperate attempt to follow the fortune teller's advice?

He felt like an idiot. An utter fool. He had used you. He had confessed to you without considering your feelings, without thinking about the consequences. All because he was scared of failing in front of his band, of letting everyone down. But now, all he could think about was how much he had hurt you. How much he had probably ruined any chance of you ever seeing him as more than just a friend.

It was painful, this realization. He had always thought you were out of his league, that you would never be interested in someone like him, but now that the possibility had opened up, it felt like he had taken it and crushed it under his own foolishness.

He wanted to fix it, to undo everything he had done. But he wasn’t sure where to start. The damage felt irreparable. He had hurt you, and no matter how much he regretted it now, it didn’t change the fact that he had crossed a line.

"We can take a rest," Seungkwan, the vocalist, suggested, noticing Hansol had been staring at the wall for a little too long.

Hansol nodded absently, "Yeah. Sure..." He realized he hadn’t been in the right frame of mind since last night. His thoughts kept circling back to you, replaying the conversation, the hurt in your eyes, the words that had escaped his lips in a moment of desperation. How could he have been so careless? He had to stop thinking about it, but it was impossible.

"The broadcasting students called—they wanted an interview tomorrow. Is that okay?" Mingyu, the bassist, asked as he walked over after picking up a phone call.

Hansol blinked, momentarily distracted. "Why didn’t they call me?" he muttered, then it hit him. He had been offline all day, lost in his thoughts.

"I couldn't reach you since this morning," Jihoon, the drummer, added. "You're usually glued to your phone."

Not since last night.

"Are you saying he’s addicted?" Jeonghan, the keyboardist, teased, throwing a playful jab at Jihoon. The drummer shot back with a grin, threatening to throw his stick at him, but Hansol wasn’t paying attention.

All he could hear was the ringing silence in his head, and all he could see was your face—hurt, confused, disappointed.

Everything felt distant, like he was trapped inside his own mind, while the world continued on around him. They were talking, joking, but Hansol couldn’t focus on anything except the ache in his chest, the question that loomed over him—How had things gotten so messed up?

"Hi, I'm Joshua," a photographer introduced himself before the interview began. He snapped photos of the group throughout the session, the pictures set to be featured on the university’s social media and in the monthly magazine.

Once the interview wrapped up, Joshua approached Hansol with a small smile.

"Hansol, right? Y/n's friend," he said, casually mentioning you.

Hansol raised an eyebrow. "Y/n’s friend?"

Joshua nodded. "Yeah, we’re in the same club. She was supposed to be the one in charge today, but she’s sick."

Hansol's concern deepened. "She’s sick?"

Joshua gave a shrug. "She mentioned something about going out in the rain, but honestly, I’m not sure. I’m just filling in for her."

Hansol’s mind raced as he processed the information. He headed straight to your apartment. When he arrived, your older brother, Seungcheol, answered the door.

"Seungcheol hyung, I heard Y/n is sick, so I brought porridge," Hansol said, holding up the warm container. Seungcheol stepped aside to let him in.

"She’s sick? She hasn’t come out of her room all day," Seungcheol said with a frown. "I need to head out for work. Can you make sure she’s alright while I’m gone?"

"Of course," Hansol replied, his tone filled with concern.

Seungcheol gave a small nod and left, trusting Hansol with the responsibility. Hansol walked down the hallway toward your room and gently knocked on the door. "Y/n?" he called softly, his heart beating faster than usual.

He turned the doorknob gently as he heard you humming softly from inside. It wasn’t the first time he’d stepped into your room, but something about being here now, knowing you might have feelings for him, made his heart race and his stomach flutter with nervous excitement.

"It’s me... I heard you’re sick," he said quietly, stepping inside. He watched as you tossed and turned on your bed, your face scrunched in discomfort.

"My head hurts," you muttered, sounding exhausted.

"You drank too much last night," Hansol remarked softly, his voice full of concern.

You let out a soft sigh before slowly sitting up on your bed. You blinked up at him, clearly still groggy. "What are you doing here?"

Hansol hesitated for a moment, taken aback by the coolness in your voice. Wasn’t this the same person he had been trying to make things right with?

"Did I do something stupid last night?" you continued, your voice tinged with confusion. "I don’t remember anything. I was too drunk."

What? Hansol’s heart sank. You didn’t remember? He could feel his stomach twist in unease. The whole night had been real for him. But you didn’t even recall it?

His words caught in his throat, his mind racing. He had to find a way to explain everything, but for now, all he could do was stand there, speechless.

*

You pushed him toward the door, your hands firm against his chest. It was too much — too much to be in the same room with him after everything that happened last night. Your heart pounded in your chest, every beat a painful reminder of the weight of it all.

"Y/n, wait—" Hansol tried, his voice laced with confusion, but you shook your head firmly.

"Just go, Hansol," you muttered, your gaze fixed on the floor, refusing to meet his eyes.

Damn your lying. There was no way you could forget what had happened last night. The alcohol might have given you the courage to say everything that had been festering in your heart, but it didn’t steal your memory. No, you remembered every single detail — from the heat of your words to the stunned look on his face.

You remembered it all. The sharp ache in your chest. The way your voice trembled as you laid it all bare. The way he stood there, silent, unable to say a word in return.

And now, you cursed yourself for being so stupid. Stupid for drinking too much. Stupid for letting it all out. Stupid for hoping, even for a second, that he’d understand.

The moment the door clicked shut behind him, you let out a shaky breath, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. You leaned your forehead against the door, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Stupid,” you muttered under your breath, wiping at your face harshly. “So, so stupid.”

But no matter how many times you cursed yourself, it didn’t stop the hurt from settling deeper into your chest.

A sharp knock echoed through the quiet of your room just a few minutes later. You clenched your jaw, already feeling the annoyance bubble up in your chest.

Hansol, seriously?

You stomped toward the door, ready to tell him off. Your hand gripped the knob with more force than necessary, and you yanked it open with a glare.

"I told you to le—"

But it wasn’t Hansol.

It was Soonyoung. His eyes widened for a second, clearly taken aback by your sharp tone. He tilted his head, a lopsided grin slowly forming on his face.

"Wow, rough welcome," he teased, holding up a plastic bag in one hand. "This how you treat visitors now?"

Your lips parted, words caught in your throat. Guilt prickled at the back of your mind as you stepped aside to let him in. "Sorry... I thought you were someone else."

"Clearly," he muttered, walking in like he owned the place. His eyes scanned the room before settling on you. "Your brother told me you were sick when I called to check in. Figured I’d drop by and see if you’re still alive."

You sighed, running a hand down your face. "I'm fine. Just a little headache."

Soonyoung raised an eyebrow as he set the bag on your desk, pulling out a small container of soup and a bottle of sports drink. "Doesn't sound 'fine' to me. And you look worse than you sound."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," you grumbled, sitting on the edge of your bed.

"Hey, honesty is love," he said with a wink, cracking open the soup container. "Eat this before you start spiraling about whatever it is you're thinking too hard about."

Your eyes flicked to him, your walls momentarily crumbling under his casual warmth. He knows. Soonyoung wasn’t the most perceptive person, but when it came to his friends, he could read you like an open book.

"Not thinking about anything," you muttered, picking at the hem of your sweater.

He shot you a look as he handed you the soup. "You don't fool me, Y/n. You forget, I know you too well."

You hesitated for a second, your fingers curling around the warm container. The scent of the soup was comforting, but the knot in your chest was too tight to untangle just yet.

"You wanna tell me what happened, or should I guess?" he asked, leaning against your desk, arms crossed and eyes watching you with quiet patience.

Your fingers tightened around the container, the warmth seeping into your skin. Tell him? You could. You should. But the words felt heavy, and your throat burned from all the words you’d swallowed the night before.

Soonyoung’s eyes softened when you didn’t respond. "I heard about Hansol."

Your eyes snapped up to him. He didn’t look smug or teasing. He just... knew.

"Seungcheol hyung told me he was here earlier," he continued, eyes steady on you. "I figured something went down."

"Something always goes down," you muttered, trying to brush it off, but your voice cracked at the end. You sucked in a sharp breath, looking away. Not now. Don't fall apart now.

Soonyoung let out a quiet sigh and crouched in front of you, resting his hands on his knees. "Y/n."

The weight of his gaze pulled you in.

"You don't have to do this alone, you know."

And just like that, the dam broke. Your face crumpled, a shaky breath escaping your lips. Tears you thought you’d buried came spilling out, and you hated it — hated how easy it was for Soonyoung to crack you open.

"I hate him," you choked out, shoulders trembling. "I hate how he made me feel. I hate that he doesn't even know."

Soonyoung sat cross-legged on the floor, his arms draped lazily over his knees as he watched you wipe at your face with the sleeve of your sweater. He didn’t say anything right away, just let the silence stretch long enough for your breathing to even out. You hated how vulnerable you felt, but with Soonyoung, it somehow felt okay.

"You know," he started, his voice light but steady, "Hansol’s always been like that. Head up in the clouds, heart locked up in a safe somewhere only he can find."

You sniffled, eyes still downcast, but you listened.

"He’s not a bad guy," Soonyoung continued, resting his chin on his hand, "but he’s stupid sometimes. No, scratch that. He’s logical to a fault — one of those people who overthinks everything and somehow ends up making the dumbest decision possible."

You glanced up at him, eyes red-rimmed but curious. "Sounds like you’re defending him."

"I’m not," he said quickly, shaking his head. "I’m just telling it how it is." He sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Hansol's the type to approach life like a math problem — one solution, one outcome, no room for feelings. He’s good with logic, terrible with emotions. If it doesn’t fit his formula, he just ignores it."

"Sounds pretty annoying," you muttered, folding your arms over your knees.

Soonyoung let out a short laugh. "Oh, you have no idea. Do you know how many times I’ve seen him 'debate' with Mingyu about how ‘romantic gestures are pointless unless they serve a purpose’?" He shook his head like it physically pained him to remember it. "Like, bro, sometimes you just give people flowers because it’s nice! Not everything needs a reason."

Despite yourself, you cracked a small smile. You could picture it perfectly — Hansol arguing with that deadpan logic of his, Mingyu gesturing wildly, both of them convinced they were right.

"But," Soonyoung leaned forward, his tone softening, "he’s not heartless, Y/n. He’s just... slow. The type of guy who doesn’t notice his own feelings until they’re too loud to ignore. He doesn’t realize he’s hurt someone until it’s staring him in the face. And honestly, I think last night was the first time he really saw it."

You bit the inside of your cheek, eyes flickering toward the window. "It’s not like I needed him to see it. I just... I just wanted him to think of me. Not as some safe option, not as a convenience, but as someone who—"

You stopped yourself, lips pressing into a thin line. Your eyes burned again, and you hated it. Soonyoung watched you for a moment before he spoke.

"He does think of you, Y/n," he said firmly. "But like I said, he’s stupid. He’s probably been thinking of you this whole time and didn’t even realize it. You know how he is."

"Yeah, well, I’m tired of waiting for him to figure it out," you muttered, fingers tugging at a loose thread on your sleeve. "I'm not a puzzle to be solved."

Soonyoung smiled, leaning his head back against the wall. "Good. You shouldn't be." He sighed, glancing at the ceiling like he was remembering something. "But if I know Hansol, he’s probably kicking himself right now. You know how he gets when he messes up — goes all quiet, stops talking to anyone, starts staring at walls like the answers will magically appear."

You blinked, remembering how distant he seemed when he visited earlier. His awkwardness hadn’t been new, but it felt... different. Guilt, maybe?

"Do you think he regrets it?" you asked quietly.

Soonyoung tilted his head, his eyes kind but sharp. "I think he’s finally realizing that you’re not as 'out of reach' as he made himself believe."

Your head snapped toward him, heart stuttering. "Out of reach? What does that mean?"

Soonyoung raised an eyebrow. "You really don't see it, huh? This whole time, he’s been looking at you like you’re untouchable. Like you’re this smart, ambitious, 'got-everything-together' kind of person that’s too good for some guy like him."

You frowned, disbelief creeping into your voice. "That's ridiculous. Hansol's not like that."

"Yeah, well, people get real stupid when they like someone." Soonyoung stood up, stretching his arms over his head with a loud groan. "You think you’re the only one overthinking? Hansol’s been overthinking since the day he met you." He glanced down at you, eyes twinkling with something playful but sincere. "But like I said, he’s slow. And if you’re tired of waiting, I get it. Just don’t pretend you don’t care when we both know you do."

Your throat felt tight, and you stayed quiet as Soonyoung headed for the door.

"Rest up, alright? I’ll check in on you later," he said, tossing you a grin before stepping out. "And if Hansol shows up again, try not to kick him out too fast. He might actually say something smart for once."

The door clicked shut, and silence filled the room.

You stared at your hands, the weight of Soonyoung's words settling deep in your chest.

Out of reach.

You never thought of yourself that way. But... was that really how Hansol saw you? All this time, did he think he never had a chance?

Your heart ached, and for the first time, it wasn’t from anger.

The door suddenly opened again, and Soonyoung peeked his head back in. His face was serious this time, his brows drawn together like he was thinking carefully about what to say.

"Hey, Y/n," he called softly.

"Yeah?"

"Don't get too caught up in him, alright? I mean it." His eyes were steady as he spoke. "Focus on yourself for a while. You’re allowed to do that, you know. Let him figure himself out while you do the same."

You blinked at him, feeling the weight of his words sink in. Focus on yourself. When was the last time you did that? When was the last time you prioritized your own peace instead of waiting for Hansol to notice something?

"Yeah," you murmured, your gaze turning thoughtful. "Yeah, I’ll do that."

Soonyoung grinned. "Good. You deserve it."

This time, when the door clicked shut, it didn’t feel so heavy. It felt like a quiet kind of relief.

*

The band had just wrapped up their third song, the crowd’s energy growing wilder with every beat. Anticipation hung in the air as Seungkwan stepped up to the mic, his grin sharp and infectious.

"And now, for our last song — an original!" he announced, voice booming over the crowd's cheers. "This one’s for everyone who denies something because they’ve never felt complete."

A ripple of excitement passed through the audience, a sea of nodding heads and raised phones ready to capture every second. Hansol’s fingers hovered over the strings of his guitar, heart pounding in time with the thumping bass.

This was it. Their first original song. The song they’d poured their hearts into.

Hansol could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, but it wasn’t suffocating — it was exhilarating. The fortune teller's words from before felt laughable now. What a load of crap. He’d been so caught up in her prediction, but here he was, on stage, living proof that none of it mattered.

His eyes scanned the crowd, and then he spotted you. Right in front, camera in hand, snapping pictures with that same focus you always had. You weren’t just an onlooker — you were part of it. You bopped to the beat, your grin wide as you caught every moment on film.

He couldn’t look away. Not when you gave him that playful high-five before he went on stage. Not when you danced along like you’d been cheering him on from the start. And definitely not when you smiled like that — so bright, so natural, as if none of the things between you two had ever happened.

How are you acting so normal?

He strummed the opening chord, pulling himself back into focus. Jihoon’s sharp drumming set the pace, and the song began. Everything fell into place, the rhythm steady, the notes clean.

Then, during the second verse, something went wrong.

The speakers cracked. The bass fizzled. The sudden static made a few people in the crowd wince, and then — silence.

Everything stopped.

The instruments, the vocals, the energy. All of it.

Mingyu shot a glance at Hansol, his eyes sharp with confusion. What’s going on? his look asked. Hansol didn’t know. He glanced back at Woozi, who had put down his sticks, his face a rare mask of concern. Seungkwan was already at the side of the stage, talking to a frantic staff member waving their hands in panic.

The whole venue was too quiet, the only sound the low murmur of confused voices from the crowd.

Hansol felt his chest tighten. His pulse quickened, not with the thrill of the stage, but with panic. His fingers hovered uselessly over the guitar strings.

Not like this. Not now.

He scanned the crowd again, and then he saw you. You were mouthing something at him, your eyebrows raised in concern.

"What's wrong?"

Hansol swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He glanced back at his bandmates, at the staff, at the broken audio equipment. Everything around him felt like a blur.

But you weren’t a blur.

You were right there, your eyes on him, steady and sure.

He crouched at the edge of the stage, motioning for you to come closer. Without hesitation, you moved through the crowd to stand right in front of him.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice barely audible over the low hum of the venue.

Hansol didn’t answer.

Instead, he looked at you like he’d been holding something in for too long. His eyes darted to the crowd behind you, the sea of strangers with phones pointed at him, waiting for something to happen. The weight of all of it pressed on him again, but this time it didn’t feel like too much.

It felt like a push.

He sucked in a sharp breath and shouted,

“I like you!”

Your eyes went wide. The whole crowd gasped in unison, but Hansol didn’t care.

“What?” You blinked up at him, too stunned to move.

“I like you!” he shouted again, louder this time. “I really like you! Since… I don’t even know when!”

His voice rang out, clear and sharp, like it had been waiting to be said for too long.

“What are you talking about?” you said, taking a small step back, but your eyes never left his.

“I like you, Y/n!” he yelled, his voice cracking, but it didn’t matter. “Let’s go on a date after this!”

A split second later, the audio kicked back on.

The speakers popped, and suddenly, the music came blaring back with Woozi’s drumbeat leading the charge. The bass reverberated through the venue, and Seungkwan’s voice returned right on cue.

The crowd exploded.

Cheers, whistles, and shouts of surprise roared through the space. Phones pointed at Hansol, recording every second of his impromptu confession.

Mingyu’s jaw hung open, his eyes darting between Hansol and you like he’d just witnessed something unbelievable. Woozi’s drumming faltered for just a second before he locked back into rhythm. Seungkwan stumbled on his words, glancing over his shoulder with wide eyes before grinning like a man who knew he’d be talking about this for weeks.

But Hansol didn’t care about any of that.

His eyes stayed on you.

You looked at him like you couldn’t believe it. Your fingers hovered over your camera, your body tense as if you were about to bolt. But then, slowly, you lowered your camera to your side.

Your lips parted, and he thought you were about to say something, but you didn’t.

Instead, you smiled.

Not a small smile. Not a confused, nervous smile.

A real smile.

Hansol let out a shaky breath, his shoulders relaxing for the first time all night. His heart was still pounding, but this time, it wasn’t from panic.

He pushed himself up to his feet, letting the weight fall off his back. He threw his guitar strap back over his shoulder, fingers gripping the neck of his guitar as he glanced at you one last time.

See you after the show, he mouthed with a grin.

Your face flushed, and you covered your mouth with your hand, eyes squinting with a mix of disbelief and something else. Something soft.

With that, Hansol turned around and rejoined the band.

His heart was still racing, and his hands were still shaking, but none of that mattered anymore.

He’d been so sure he’d ruined things with you two days ago. He thought he’d wrecked something that couldn’t be fixed. But now, under the blinding lights of the stage, with the crowd still screaming, he finally felt something shift.

For the first time in a long time, Hansol felt complete.

*

The cozy hum of the café blended with the quiet chatter of other patrons. The smell of fresh coffee beans and sweet pastries filled the air, but none of that could drown out the sound of Soonyoung’s obnoxious laughter. He sat across from you, phone in hand, replaying that moment for the fifth time.

"Here it comes, here it comes," he said with the excitement of someone watching a blockbuster plot twist. His grin stretched wide as Hansol's voice blared from the tiny phone speaker.

"I like you, Y/n! Let's go on a date after this!"

The crowd's eruption played out again, and Soonyoung slapped the table, laughing like it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen. His shoulders shook with every cackle.

“Can you stop already?” you muttered, fingers tapping away at your laptop as you edited the batch of photos from last night’s gig. Your latte sat next to you, half-finished, its warmth barely noticeable anymore. "I heard it live, Soonyoung. I don’t need a replay."

"But I do," Soonyoung grinned, wiping at the corner of his eye. "This is gold, Y/n. Absolute, once-in-a-lifetime gold. Do you realize how many people would pay for a confession like that? In front of a whole crowd? On stage? With working audio as the grand finale?" He pressed play again.

"I like you, Y/n! Let's go on a date after this!"

Your face burned as you ducked behind your laptop, ears heating with the memory of the moment. “I swear, if you don’t stop—”

“I like you, Y/n!” Soonyoung mimicked, his voice high-pitched and theatrical, throwing his head back as if he were the one on stage. “Let's go on a date after this!”

You shot him a glare. “Keep it up, Soonyoung. See what happens.”

“Oooh, scary,” he teased, grinning even wider. "Don't be shy, Y/n. You looked like you were about to cry." He sniffled, pretending to wipe away a tear. "Oh, Hansol, I’ve been waiting for you to say it all my life—"

“Do you have a death wish, Kwon Soonyoung?” you deadpanned, voice dangerously calm.

Hansol, sitting right next to you, snickered behind his hand. He leaned back in his chair, hands in his hoodie pocket, glancing at you with the laziest grin imaginable. He hadn't said much since you sat down, but the look on his face said he was thoroughly entertained.

"You're both impossible," you muttered, eyes flicking back to your laptop. You clicked through your photos, adjusting brightness and contrast, but the warmth in your chest refused to fade. Your lips twitched despite yourself. "This was supposed to be our first date, you know," you muttered into your latte, barely loud enough for them to hear.

But of course, they heard.

“Ohhh?” Soonyoung's eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned forward, propping his chin on his hands. "Is that regret I hear, Y/n? Did you want something more romantic?”

“Romantic?” you scoffed, glancing at him briefly. “Yeah, I definitely dreamed of being confessed to in front of 200 strangers while the sound system crashed.” You rolled your eyes, but there was no bite in your voice.

Hansol leaned in, his elbow resting on the table, his gaze steady on you. His grin softened into something quieter, something almost fond.

"Would you have preferred something more low-key?" he asked, voice low but curious. He tilted his head slightly, his hair falling into his eyes. "I can do it again if you want."

Your heart skipped once, just once, and you had to look back at your screen before your face gave you away. "Don't be ridiculous, Hansol."

"Noted," he said simply, still grinning.

“Don’t let her fool you, man,” Soonyoung butted in, eyes flicking between the two of you like he was watching his favorite TV drama. “She loved every second of it. I saw that little smile. Oh, wait, should I replay it for reference?” His finger hovered over the screen.

You snatched a napkin off the table and threw it at him, hitting him square in the face.

“Shut up, Kwon Soonyoung.”

He howled with laughter, catching the napkin and tossing it back at you. “You’ll thank me later! I’m basically the biggest investor in your relationship!” he declared, puffing out his chest like he deserved a trophy. “Without me, none of this would have happened.”

“Investor?” you shot back, eyebrows raised. “Investor in what? Chaos?”

“Love,” he corrected, tapping his chest with mock sincerity. “I invest in love.”

Hansol laughed quietly at that, his shoulders shaking just a little. His eyes stayed on you, warm and steady, like he'd finally stopped second-guessing everything.

And for a moment, you forgot about Soonyoung's antics, the video, the embarrassment of it all. You only noticed Hansol, his gaze on you like it had been for weeks — no, maybe longer.

I like you, Y/n. Let's go on a date after this.

You didn’t need a replay for that.

It was already stuck in your head.

*

Late at night, the faint hum of streetlights buzzed in the background as Soonyoung paced back and forth outside his apartment building, phone pressed to his ear. His tone was casual, but his words carried a hint of mischief.

“Hey… yeah, it’s me — The Reckyz’s manager,” he said with a grin, glancing around as if someone might overhear him. “Mm-hm, that’s right. I wanted to talk about our performance tomorrow. Got a minute?”

He stopped pacing, eyes narrowing with focus as he listened to the response on the other end. His grin widened. “Perfect. Here’s the thing — I was wondering if you could help us out a bit during the gig tomorrow.” He leaned his back against the wall, his fingers drumming against his thigh like he was cooking up a master plan.

“Yeah, yeah. Nothing too crazy,” he reassured. “I was thinking… maybe some technical issues on stage during the last song. Not a full shutdown, just enough to get people on edge for a second. It’s for promotional purposes, you know?” He laughed lightly, the kind that only comes from someone far too pleased with their own scheme.

“Don’t worry, the members will be aware of it,” he added, his voice smooth as if he’d done this a hundred times. “They’ll play along. Trust me, it'll be unforgettable.”

His eyes flickered with satisfaction as the person on the other end agreed.

"Perfect. I'll owe you one," he said, his grin sharp now, like a cat who’d just caught a mouse. "Just make sure it happens right before the second verse. Timing is everything."

He hung up, slipping his phone into his pocket, eyes glinting with quiet triumph.

"Operation Unforgettable Moment is a go," he muttered to himself, pushing off the wall and strolling down the street, hands in his pockets, a spring in his step. “Biggest investor in love, huh? Yeah, that’s me.”

[revelboo]

When the Devil works hard, but fanfic authors work harder

I came for x sound wave and starscream but stayed for Wheeljack, Jazz and (checks notes) Thundercracker?(He grew on me) I've been binging your fics and they're all super good it's hard to pick a favorite (I'm definitely not like a zoo animal rattling the bars of my enclosure every time I see an update for jazz or wj).

Anyways I hope you have a good vacation and stay hydrated 🩷

I’m just having fun. 18+ Mass displaced mech 🌶️

Inside Out Pt 7

TFO Starscream x Reader

• Servos sliding against your spine, tracing the bones under the skin and muscle as he comes down from the high, he has to bite back a laugh. At himself, at the whole situation. That pull, that need hasn’t calmed at all. If anything, it’s sank in deeper, getting stronger. Staring up at the ceiling, he grits his denta when you shift on top of him. Sliding deeper when you push yourself up from where you’d been sprawled on him. And he’s fully alert now, wings fidgeting where they’re trapped under him as you avoid looking at his face.

• Shivering as his spike pulses inside you and his hands slide to rest possessively on your hips, you can’t meet his optics. Because this? So much worse than the next morning walk of shame, because he’s still inside you. And when you do look at him, his expression is so damn smug you want to slap him. Like he hadn’t been as urgent and needy as you’d been. “Let go,” you mutter, trying to get off of him. And his servos tighten on you, moving you against him to make your toes curl. Making you realize how much stronger he is than you are. Hating that it feels good, the way his thick spike strokes deep inside you.

• “Why would I do that?” He groans, watching you toss your head back, your little hands on top of his as he moves you. Hips lifting to drive up as he pulls you down, listening to you make those noises for him. Tightening on him. “This is mine, remember,” he growls, back of his helm hitting the berth, frame straining as you roll your hips and your breathing becomes ragged.

• “Please.” Hate the plea, but you need him to move faster, these slow deliberate drives keeping that high out of reach. Needing it and hating that you do. That he’s doing this to you. Making you crave him, when you should hate him. “I need more.” Please. So close and hating yourself for wanting this, wanting him.

• Your silken heat gripping his spike as he grits his denta, there’s something almost obscene and strangely beautiful about watching your back arch as he begins to thrust faster. Your lips parting. Alien and strange, not Cybertronian, but undeniably his. Soft and warm, making those needy sounds that string him tight as you take his spike. “Say it,” he snarls, hips snapping up to meet you when he drags you down. “Say my name.” Only his, because he’s never giving this up when it feels so good. Doesn’t care if he shouldn’t be so obsessed with an alien, if no one ever finds out, no one can care.

Previous

[woozinhos]

thoughts on joshua being a gentleman in the streets but a freak in the sheets 😜

also I really love your fics, keep going!

stop anon thank you so much god this is the type of man I want for real honestly hope you enjoy!

Joshua was known for his kind and gentle demeanor. He was always polite, respectful, and caring towards others.

But in the bedroom, he was a completely different person.

Once the door closed behind you two, all the gentlemanly traits were gone, replaced by a dominant and demanding side that he only showed to you.

Joshua had you pinned against the wall, his strong arms holding you in place as he pounded into you from behind.

His hips snapped against yours, his cock hitting all the right spots inside you and sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"You're so tight," he growled, his breath hot against your ear. "So tight and wet for me."

As Joshua continued to thrust into you, his hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back slightly.

The sting of pain only added to the pleasure, and you let out a low moan as he tugged harder on your hair.

"That's it," he whispered, his voice rough with lust. "Let me hear how good I'm making you feel. Let everyone know who's making you feel this way."

As you were lost in the moment, you caught a glimpse of the flowers that Joshua had given you earlier.

They were beautiful, a mix of roses and lilies that he had bought you during your date.

The card that accompanied them was also still there, propped up against the wall where you had set it down.

The sweet words he had written to you were still fresh in your mind, and you felt a pang of affection for him in your chest.

Joshua's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming harder and more forceful as he chased his own release.

His hand in your hair tightened even more, and he began to whisper filthy things in your ear.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice low and possessive. "You belong to me, and I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt yourself clenching around him in response.

"You like that, don't you?" he hissed, his breath hot against your skin. "You like being mine, being completely at my mercy."

As if to emphasize his point, Joshua brought his hand down on your ass, delivering a sharp slap that made you gasp in surprise.

"That's right," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. "You're my good girl, aren't you? Taking my cock so well and loving every second of it."

You could feel the sting of the slap on your skin, and it only served to fuel your arousal even more.

Joshua continued to spank you, alternating between hard slaps and gentle caresses, his hand moving in a way that left you feeling both pleasure and pain.

"You're such a good girl for me," he repeated, his voice filled with praise. "Taking everything I give you and begging for more."

Joshua's thrusts were becoming more erratic, his body tense as he approached his climax.

He leaned forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he continued to pound into you from behind.

You could feel his teeth graze against your skin, and then he bit down on your shoulder, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to leave a mark.

You let out a gasp at the feeling of his teeth on your skin, the mix of pain and pleasure making your head spin.

Joshua released your shoulder and moved his lips to your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

"I'm going to cum soon," he growled, his voice thick with need. "Are you ready for me to fill you up again, baby?"

You nodded, unable to form words as the pleasure coursed through your body.

Joshua's hand moved to your hip, his grip tightening as he pulled you back against him with each thrust.

"That's it," he said, his voice strained. "You're so close, I can feel it. Cum for me, baby. Let go and let me take care of you."

You could feel your orgasm building, the tension in your body coiling tighter and tighter as Joshua continued to drive you closer to the edge.

His cock was hitting all the right spots inside you, and you knew you were close to coming undone.

"Please, please, please," you begged, your voice hoarse from moaning. "I'm so close, I need to cum."

Joshua's grip on your hip tightened even more, his fingers digging into your flesh as he continued to thrust into you with abandon.

"I've got you," he whispered, his voice rough with need. "Let go, baby. Cum for me."

With a final, desperate thrust, you tipped over the edge, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm.

You cried out his name, your body clenching around his cock as waves of pleasure washed over you.

Joshua let out a strangled groan, feeling you tighten around him.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he gasped, his hips stuttering as he struggled to hold on. "I'm going to cum, I'm going to fill you up again."

With a final, deep thrust, Joshua buried himself inside you and let out a low moan as he came.

You could feel his cock pulsing inside you, hot spurts of cum filling you up as he rode out his orgasm.

He held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he pressed his face into your shoulder, panting heavily.

Joshua pulled out of you, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

He carefully lifted you up in his arms, carrying you over to the bed and gently laying you down on the soft sheets.

"Are you okay, baby?" he asked, his voice filled with concern as he looked down at you. "Do you need anything? Water, a snack, anything?"

You smiled up at him, feeling a wave of affection wash over you as he looked down at you with his usual gentle expression.

He returned your smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

"You were amazing," he whispered, his voice filled with warmth. "I don't know what I did to deserve you."

[funnyjb]

To All of the Boys I Loved Before

……………………………………………………………………………

Summary: you have always fantasized about finding the one but never knew who that one would be. You wrote about your love in letters and spilling your feelings for whom ever your one may be. What happens when one of those letters get sent?

………………………………………………………………………….

“Y/n Taylor!”- Katie (your sister)

You bounced out of bed from your sister yelling out for you from the kitchen downstairs. It was the first day of junior year. You weren’t as nervous as you thought you would be. You were going into junior with a great best friend and the courage to try out for the cheerleading squad again and hopefully get in for the second time.

You quickly brushed your teeth and did your hair and subtle but cute makeup. You then quickly changed into your first day of school outfit.

“Y/N!”- Katie

“Coming!”- you

God she’s so annoying

You grabbed your school bag and headed downstairs.

“Let’s go.”- you

Katie grabbed her helmet.

“Why do you have that?”- you

“Because you’re driving.”- Katie

You rolled your eyes

“Get in the car.”- you

……………………………………………………

The hall was filled with squeals and laughter from friends not seeing each other for so long over the hot summer break. There was chatter and even new gossip just from being in school for not even ten minutes. The air was cold from the ac and backpacks slightly hitting you trying to make your way through the crowds to get to your locker.

“Y/n!”- Alexa

“Alexa!”- you

Alexa ran up to you and gave you a big hug.

“I know we saw each other yesterday but it feels like we haven’t seen each in years.”- Alexa laughs

“I know right!”- you

You unlock your locker and put away some notebooks that probably won’t be used since you have five others in your bag.

“So, tyler hooked up with jade over the summer and now jade is ghosting him. You should have seen the look tyler gave her in the hall just now.”- Alexa

You laugh

“Heads up!”- Joe

A football lands right near you and almost hit your head.

Joe runs over.

“I am so sorry, y/n. Are you ok?”- joe

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”- you

Joe smiles

Is his smile always so perfect?

He grabs the football from next to you.

“Sorry about that, again. How wa-”- joe

“YO, Burrow!”- tyler

Joe turns around and gives tyler a bro hug.

“We got to go check out the new locker room.”- tyler

“Oh ok.”- Joe

He looks back me.

“See you later, y/n.”- joe waves bye

I give him a small wave.

Alexa stands there like she’s just seen her celebrity crush Justin Bieber.

“What?”- you

“You-you, just talked to THE Joe Burrow.”- Alexa

“So, I have know him since sixth grade which is a little bit longer than I have known you!”- you laugh

“Ok, but he’s the hottest guy in school even though he is taken.”- Alexa rolls her eyes

Joe is dating one of the cheerleaders. Her name is Ellie. She is the kind of girl who has beautiful long blonde hair and whenever she flicks her hair out of her face it makes everyone stop in there tracks and think she has been sent form heaven, but in reality she is rude and selfish and only thinks about her social status and if her instagram followers have gone up. She doesn’t care about Joe. You can tell.

———————————————————

(Later)

“So, anyone you think is cute? Tyler looks like he’s off the market.”- Alexa

We were hanging out in my room. Alexa was sitting on my bean bag while I was on my bed writing down my homework.

“No, he’s not my type.”- you

“Good, because I wanted him.”- Alexa

We both started laughing.

“Do you ever wished you had a boyfriend?”- Alexa

“Sometimes. Why?”- you

“Just you never dated anyone and when I start to date tyler we could have double dates.”- Alexa

“Seriously you have an obsession with that guy. But I’m focused on school.”- you

“Ok, whatever you say!”- Alexa

————————————————————————-

MY NEW SERIES!!!

Hope y’all love!! Plz send me ideas or anything for It! it’s based of off the movie!

[cowboylikesvt]

Spider-boy! 🕸 🎸🎧

prev || masterlist || next

Chapter 4: Putting the “C” in Physics

warnings: Cursing

Word count: 1.5k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Bouncing a leg up and down is a habit you’ve had ever since you were a child, which you’re currently doing as you wait for your tutor to arrive. It’s not out of impatience or anything; it’s nothing like that at all. You never really knew why you did this, but every time you awaited something, you always found yourself bouncing your leg or tapping a foot.

Maybe you just felt antsy. Maybe you were anxious. You never gave it much thought since you always found yourself doing it no matter how serious or unserious the occasion was. It’s just normal. Well, you guess it is for you, at least.

Sitting in the window of the coffee shop, there are all kinds of different people walking by. Businessmen in suits heading to their corporate jobs, nurses in scrubs heading to the hospital a few blocks away, and parents walking hand in hand with their children.

It was something so normal, but still, it stirred something within you. Sure, some parts of your life could be considered normal, but deep down, you craved that normalcy and obliviousness that the average person had. The one thing you knew you’d never be able to have. Never again, that is.

You never thought about being a full-time superhero, such as someone like Spiderman. You were selfish in a way. You can’t just easily suppress those feelings and put them aside for other people. That may be why you’re a cat burglar (see what I did there). You may not steal from the average person, but it’s enough of a distraction and adrenaline rush to make you forget about that ache deep inside your chest.

That’s why you don’t like Spiderman. Not because he’s annoying or always in your way but because he was a genuinely good, selfless person. He may not have the normalcy or obliviousness you crave, and he may even crave it as well, but he doesn’t let that get in the way of what he believes is right.

In a way, your entire situation could be viewed as wrong. What you do is wrong. How you do it is wrong. It’s all unethical. However, it’s deeper than that. There’s more to it, so you like to tell yourself everything is just morally grey. (That’s why your friends are still your friends, but more of the details of that later.)

Snapping out of your thoughts, you look up to the entrance and see the boy you met the other day. You watch as he glances around looking for you, so you stick your hand up in the air and wave so he can spot you.

You see him smile when he spots you, and you smile back as he walks over. He bumps into an empty chair at someone’s table as he walks over.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jisung says apologetically to the people at the table while cursing at himself mentally for embarrassing himself.

“Hi! I hope this table is alright; it was the only empty one when I got here. I also got us both hot lattes since it’s cold out; I hope that’s ok. I don’t know what you would want.” You greet Jisung nicely and slide the coffee cup over.

He takes his jacket off and hangs it on the back of the chair. “That’s fine, thank you!” He reassures you with a soft smile as he sits across from you. He bends over to grab his textbook and notebook from his bag.

“I’m going to be honest: I suck at physics,” you say awkwardly but honestly nonetheless. He deserves to know what he’s getting into. “Like, I’m really bad at it. Really bad.”

Jisung gives you a sympathetic look. “It’s alright; besides, that’s what I’m here for. What grade are you aiming for?”

“Well, I have an F right now, so I’m failing. I’d like to get it up to a D with the next test and possibly a C for the semester.” You begin to pull out your own notes and textbook from your bag.

He nods, “That should be doable.” You raise your eyebrows. “Really?” You say surprised, raising your eyebrows.

He starts to explain it to you as he writes it all down on a piece of paper. “Let’s say right now you have a 58 in the class. Getting a C on the next test could raise your grade up to a low D. With all of the assignments and extra credit being assigned, that could get your average up to about a 65.” He does the math in his head and hums to himself.

“We have another test after the one coming up. Then after that one is the final. So if you get a C on the next exam and then a B or higher on the following exam, you could finish the class with about... a 74 or 75. Depending on how the professor rounds it.” He then sets his pencil down, and you stare at him in awe.

“You did all of that in your head? That quickly?” You question the guy sitting in front of you. He rubs the back of his neck, chuckling nervously, “Oh, uh, I’m just really good at math.”

You nod, “I can see that.” You then look at the paper. “Do you think I could get a B in the class?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. It will be really hard, but it’s not impossible, I guess. You just have to do well on the next two tests and the final. I think if the professor gives out more extra credit opportunities, it could make it more likely too. I don’t know if he will, though.” He answers honestly. “I think it would be best to aim for a C for now since that seems to be the possible outcome.”

“Ok, then I feel better about this.” You then look up at him. “Not that I didn’t think you wouldn’t be helpful! I just didn’t know if it would be possible.”

Jisung shakes his head and waves his hands in front of him. “Oh, I didn’t think that at all. Don’t worry; I would never think that. EVER.” He then laughs awkwardly, giving you a confused look.

“Oh well, alright then,” you pause, thinking of how to break the now awkward silence. “Well, should we start then?”

“Right, yes. Yes, of course. That is why we are here.” He is a bit all over the place and a bit… well, strange, but he’s nice, and you know he is the best option when it comes to help, so you just brush it off.

He thinks to himself before speaking. “Let’s start with Newton’s Laws of Motion,” he smiles, flipping to a page in the textbook.

“Right,” you smile, then pause and then laugh awkwardly. “Uh, so… What is that?”

He looks up, and his eyes widen a bit. This is going to be harder than he thought.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

“Ok, I think I got it. Can you check it?” You slide the paper over to Jisung for him to check the problems he gave you to solve after an hour and a half of tutoring.

He nods and checks the problems. “You got everything right.” He smiles. “See, I told you that you could do it. You just needed a bit of confidence. After a few more sessions, I’m 100% sure you will be able to do these with your eyes closed.”

You can’t help but smile brightly at him. “Thank you so much for your help. It all makes so much sense now! I don’t know why I was so nervous. Honestly, you’re a better teacher than our actual professor.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that, but—well, I guess I am a pretty good teacher.” He lets the compliment go to his head. After all, it’s coming from you, the most beautiful person he has ever met.

The both of you begin to pack your things. “So, same time next week?” You ask looking up after zipping your bag. “Yeah, yeah, that’s perfect.” He reassures.

“Great! I’ll see you next Thursday then!” You smile, then get ready to walk off.

Jisung watches you start to walk off, but he wants to say something else to you. Internally he is beating himself up, not knowing what he should say or if he should say anything at all.

"Act how you think a normal person would act," Chan's words repeat in his head. "Don't make a fool of yourself, Jisung," he tells himself before calling out to you.

You turn your head around at the sound of your name. "Next time I'll buy your coffee. I owe you one." A smile creeps up onto your lips.

"I'll hold you to it then." You then exit the coffee shop, leaving Jisung standing there pumping his fists in the air excitedly. He can't wait to tell his friends about this, mainly because he will prove that he isn't a complete idiot.

He stops and sees the people sitting around him staring at him. He laughs awkwardly and rubs his head before pointing to the door and swiftly exiting.

Okay, maybe he is an idiot.

Authors note: I’m really looking forward to the upcoming chapters as they dive more into Y/n’s backstory, family, and how she became The Black Cat. As always I hope you guys enjoyed <3

[okaysonny]

make it like your birthday every day ╏ crystal choi

ᯓ★ summary: crystal's birthday coincides with her time of grieving.

ᯓ★ details: angst, no reader, the whole gang appears :p spoilers for 516!

ᯓ★ wc: 1.1k

ᯓ★ A/N: because i miss my diva okay?🙄 hello fellow crystal enthusiasts :3 (i said next fic would be zack and johan but i'm still working on that! enjoy this in the meantime 🙏🏽)

divider: @thecutestgrotto

crystal is used to the silence.

her house, though grand and luxurious, is eerily quiet. it's always been empty in a way — filled with the kind of wealth that couldn’t replace love. but since her father's death, the quiet had grown unbearable.

i need space. she tells herself. to think. to process. to figure out what her life should look like without her father's shadow looming over it.

so when her phone lights up with a message, her first instinct was to ignore the pings like usual. however, the words made her pause.

(1) New Message - 2:43 PM Zack Lee EMERGENCY!!! MEET US AT THE CAFÉ ASAP! IT'S IMPORTANT!

her brows furrow. strange. she barely talks to zack. if he's texting her out of the blue, it must be urgent, right?

she finds herself getting up before she considers further. if she can be of help, she should. no matter how difficult it feels right now.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

the café is bustling when she arrives, the hum of conversation and the clatter of dishes filling the air. crystal hesitates at the door, scanning the room for any sign of zack...or daniel, she secretly hopes. her chubby body always draws attention - never the good kind. and today, she feels particularly self-conscious, not bothering to dress up or brush her hair properly.

jace is behind the counter, wiping a mug. his eyes widen slightly when he spots her, but he shoots a small smile as if he'd been expecting her, before resuming back to his task. strange indeed. she spots zack sitting at a big table nearby, waving frantically.

“finally!” he says as she slides into the seat across. “we’ve been waiting forever”

“we?” crystal glances around. it's just zack. “what’s this about?”

“just wait a second” zack says, grinning mischievously - like he's in on some big secret.

crystal narrows her eyes. “if this is some kind of prank—”

before she can finish, the door swings open. daniel, jay, vasco, zoe, mira, and even eli. crystal blinks in confusion as they approach, each of them holding something — balloons, a cake, even a clumsily wrapped gift. they all look so...different from the last time she'd seen them.

“surprise!” they all shout.

crystal freezes. “what?”

“it’s your birthday, isn’t it?” daniel says, sitting down. not quite the daniel she hoped to see, but still daniel nonetheless.

crystal blinks at the sight before her, her mind struggling to connect the dots. she didn't tell anyone. she’d assumed no one would remember, let alone go to this much trouble. for a moment, she's speechless. they stand around a small cake, candles flickering gently, the faint scent of vanilla wafting around them.

eli and vasco were holding a banner spelling out "happy birthday crystal!" in uneven letters. maybe it's her imagination, but she swears she sees the slightest flush on eli's cheeks as he smiles gently at her.

"you guys did this...for me?" her voice is barely above a whisper. her gaze sweeps over the group, taking in their proud smiles.

"of course we did!" daniel grins from ear to ear.

crystal’s throat tightens. she's not used to this. people don’t usually go out of their way for her — at least, not without expecting something in return. and she certainly didn't expect it from them.

she takes a shaky breath, her fingers brushing the edge of the table as if to ground herself. "i…i don’t know what to say" she finally manages.

zoe chimes in, her eyes sparkling. "you don’t have to say anything! we just want to wish you happy birthday!"

“...happy birthday crystal” mira says softly, placing the cake in front of her.

crystal stares at it, a faint blush creeping up her face. she hadn’t blown out a birthday candle in years. it feels…childish. silly. but as she sees the faces of her friends — genuine and warm — it doesn't feel that way at all.

“...thank you everyone” she says, her own smile beginning to form.

“make a wish!” vasco exclaims, clapping his hands excitedly.

she hesitantly leans in, closing her eyes, before blowing out the candle. the group erupts into cheers, and for the first time in ages, crystal laughs. a real, unguarded laugh.

as they settle in together, sharing stories and cake, crystal feels the weight on her chest begin to lift. she hadn’t realised how much she’d missed this —missed them.

towards the end of the celebration, as they begin cleaning up, daniel leans over to her. “we want to remind you” he says softly, “that you’re not alone crystal. we’re here for you”

she doesn't respond right away, the words settling in deep. he didn't even mention her father. no "we're sorry for your loss" or anything. just those kind words.

“thanks daniel” she says quietly.

as crystal walks home, the gift bag dangles from her fingers, a tangible reminder of today's events. her heart feels lighter, though confusion still lingers at the edges.

she didn’t confide in anyone about her grief. it's not like she doesn't trust them. she just doesn't know how. she never felt particularly close to them, or to anyone, really. relationships had always felt…conditional, built on utility or convenience. that's the world she grew up in.

and yet, they had gone through all this trouble for her. for her birthday. a day she hadn’t even thought worth celebrating.

she frowns, her grip tightening slightly on the bag. why? what did she do to deserve this kind of effort? she hadn’t been much of a friend lately. she pushed them away, didn't respond to messages, and holed herself up at home. she didn’t ask for their help. she didn’t expect it. and still, they’d shown up.

none of them can possibly comprehend the life she lives — the weight of being charles choi’s daughter, the expectations, the secrets, the overwhelming sense of isolation.

...and her two bodies. something she can never confess. how can anyone understand what it feels like to live two lives in one?

her gaze falls to the pavement, her steps slowing.

but then, maybe they don't need to understand.

maybe it doesn't matter if they can’t grasp the complexities of her life, or the bizarre, otherworldly reality of her two forms. because today, none of that matters. they had been there, not because they know her struggles, but because they care. they had shown up with balloons and cake and awkward, heartfelt words, and it had been enough to soothe the ache in her chest.

her lips curled into a small, reluctant smile.

maybe their kindness doesn’t have to be earned. maybe it doesn't have to come from a place of understanding. maybe it's enough for it to be freely given.

crystal glances up at the darkening sky.

for the first time in a long while, the silence doesn't feel so suffocating.

A/N: i will never forgive ptj for sidelining crystal like this. her new appearances better be GOOD.

[vicsnook]

Surprise! | Bob Floyd x Reader

word count: 1248

warnings: warnings: Smut, 18+, unprotected p in v, oral fem receiving

notes: Hey Besties!! Hope everyone is doing well. As we all know I am a Bob girlie at heart and even though I clearly was consumed by Hangman for a bit, I found my way back home hehe. Hope you enjoy this, it was not proof read and it is basically pure filth 😏. Don’t forget to like and reblog please 🫶🏼

I take one last look in the mirror and smirk at my reflection. The tight black dress hugs my every curve and the red bottoms Bob got me last Christmas pair perfectly. Grabbing my clutch, I feel the excitement set in.

The drive to the base feels unbearably long and I seem to catch every red light. I can’t help but rub my thighs together in exasperation, I need to get there before he leaves his office.

I walk as fast as the heels allow me into the building where my husband’s office is and immediately feel the stares. They know me as the shy wife of the admiral who brings baked goods for the office once a month. They’ve never seen this side of me.

“Mrs. Floyd! What a wonderful surprise!” says my husband's secretary once I reach their floor and I take notice of her purse already on the desk. The clock behind her changes to 5 and I know I’ve made it just in time.

“Hey Kathy, is my husband in his office?” I smile, hoping she says what I want to hear. She cranes her neck to look at the hallway beside me and I feel giddy inside with anticipation.

“He’s still in a meeting in the conference room, want me to let him know you’re here?” I shake my head. “I’ll just surprise him, go on home girl, I’ll tell him you checked me in.”

She thanks me and waves me goodbye from the elevator and once the doors shut I make my way into my husband’s office. I close all the blinds and set my purse in the chair in front of the desk then round it and sit on his leather office chair.

I let my head fall back and reminisce about the times before my husband got his promotion and he’d sneak me into the academy dorms for a not so quickie. Then I hear him down the hall and I nearly jump out the chair.

His hand is on the doorknob and my heart is pounding so fast I fear it might give me away and then there he is. A smile lights up his face as soon as he spots me and he’s quick to shut the door behind me.

“Surprise,” I say in my most sultry voice and I can see immediately the way those baby blue eyes darken with desire. He rounds the desk and I stand in front of him, placing my hands on his chest. “A surprise indeed,” he whispers against my ear and I shiver as his lips meet my neck.

I throw my head back as he kisses my neck but he’s quick to place his hand on the back of it to make my lips meet his and I melt against him. His hands trail across my body and I moan against his lips which elicits a grin from him.

His hands meet the back of my thighs and he lifts me onto the desk and I stifle a chuckle at the sound of papers falling to the ground. At this moment nothing else matters but us.

He pulls away and I look at him through half lidded eyes and notice his hair is messy from where I tugged on it and his jacket is now wrinkly. “To what do I owe the occasion?” He murmurs as he grabs my arm and kisses my wrist and my eyes meet his.

“What, a girl can’t miss her husband?” I say, looking at him defiantly to which he cocks an eyebrow at me. He’s not used to me being dominant, that’s for sure.

I run the tip of my heel up the side of his dress pants and maintain eye contact, only looking down at his lips when I reach his erection. “On your knees, Admiral.”

Bob looks shocked but as the good boy he always is, he complies and I bend forward and place a kiss on those plump lips of his. His eyes never leave mine as I scoot to the edge of the desk and lift my dress up to my waist.

His eyes widen as he takes in the lack of underwear and his palms are holding the side of my legs as he pulls himself closer to me and throws my legs over his shoulders. “Mine,” he whispers and then his mouth meets my core and I moan almost animalistically as he sucks on my clit.

He groans against me as I tug his hair and then tip my head back as he slides a finger inside me. “So fucking wet for me,” he says and I arch my back as he slides in another one. My body is tingling all over and I feel myself get closer as he relentlessly fucks me with his fingers.

“Bo-bby pl-ease, " I manage to say as he licks a strip up my pussy and I come undone as he continues to finger me, his eyes on me as I start to come down from my orgasm.

“Be a good girl and turn around,” he says, his voice husky with desire as I take his hand and turn around, my legs still shaking. His hand is on the back of my neck and he pushed aside my hair, placing a kiss on my shoulder. and then he’s bending me over the desk. I shiver in excitement as I hear his zipper come down and then I gasp as I feel his tip in my entrance.

But I don’t even have time to react as he pushes himself inside me fully and then pulls out and starts over, setting a pace that is almost criminal. The sound of his curses,my moans, and our skin slapping together fill his office and I feel myself get even wetter if that’s possible.

He slaps my ass and I yelp in pleasure and he slows down enough we can catch our breaths. “Fuck honey,” he mutters against the back of my neck and I can feel his chest rising against my back. His hand pulls mine to my clit and I try to match his pace as my legs threaten to give out from under me. “I-I can’t,” I stammer and he murmurs “I got you, baby,” in my ear as he takes over and speeds up the pace.

I feel my orgasm getting closer and closer and my knuckles are white from holding on to the desk and finally I let it take over me. Bending down more and resting my head on the cool surface of the desk as I let my release wash over me. “I’m almost there, darling” Bob whispers but my loud moans drown him out. It feels too good.

And then he’s coming in me and slowing down, kissing my back over the fabric and running his hands up and down my arms slowly.

I lift up my head and pass him some tissues from the now messy desk and he withdraws from me slowly which feels like torture, then he’s cleaning me up,and pulling down my dress.

I turn around and meet those gorgeous blue eyes and kiss him until we can’t breathe. How lucky am I, for this wonderful husband. Pulling away, his forehead rests against mine and he whispers “You should miss me more often.” and I chuckle playfully, slapping his chest then letting him lead me out, knowing more awaits once we make it home.

[bloody-bee-tea]

24 Days of MHA 2024 Day 21 - Fucking bullshit

Shouta just bundled himself up in his sleeping bag, ready to sleep the break away, with Hizashi’s soft humming in his ear when it knocks on the door to the teacher’s lounge.

Shouta cracks one eye open because with his luck it’s going to be one of his problem children who started the apocalypse or something but he lets Hizashi get up to open the door.

He did not expect Shinsou to be on the other side.

“Hey, kiddo,” Hizashi greets him. “What’s up?”

Shouta watches how Shinsou wrings his hands in front of his chest, how his eyes dart all over the place and he starts extracting himself from the warm cocoon of his sleeping bag. This will not be over quick, even though he never expected Shinsou to be one of his problem kids.

He had hoped that starting out in Gen Ed saved the boy from that particular curse but clearly he was wrong.

“I need your help,” Shinsou finally mutters and Hizashi looks back at Shouta, who waves him in.

“Come here, kid. What is it?” Shouta says, his voice rougher than usual because he was just falling asleep but he’d never send one of his kids away and especially not Shinsou and most certainly not after he so plainly asked for help.

“I—” More hand-wringing, more eyes darting all over the place and Shouta wonders what the kid could have possibly done to be this worried. “I really need your help.”

“And you have it,” Hizashi reassures him because it’s not even a question that they are going to help with whatever it is.

But they need to know what it is, first.

“Tell us what’s going on,” Shouta encourages him and Shinsou takes a deep breath, which does clearly nothing to relax him.

“My foster mother, she’ll be going to the police later to accuse me of using my quirk against her husband. I really—with my quirk, it’s not going to go over well and I really need help.”

There’s a lot to unpack in that short explanation but for now Shouta and Hizashi only share a look before they nod.

“Of course,” Hizashi then says and pats Shinsou’s shoulder.

“Did you?” Shouta asks, because he has to and because the police will, too, but he can admit that the betrayed look Shinsou gives him hurts. “You will be asked that, a lot. So better get used to it now.”

“I didn’t,” Shinsou whispers out, because of course he didn’t, he would never, Shouta knows that but clearly the foster mother has it out for him if she’s going to accuse him of that.

“Why would she think you do?”

“My foster father’s started to act cagey around her so of course I’m the first to be blamed.”

That’s rather disturbing, really, if Shouta thinks too hard about that.

“Do you know why he’s acting like that?” Shouta doesn’t have much hope for an answer here but to his surprise Shinsou nods.

“He thinks I’m stupid and I’m not allowed to talk at home, so he isn’t as careful around me. He’s having an affair.”

More things Shouta files away to inspect at a later date, but it’s really not painting a good picture for Shinsou’s living situation.

“Oh, boy,” Hizashi sighs out. “And I’m guessing if you were to expose that then both of them would accuse you of using your quirk on him,” he mutters, and Shinsou nods.

“I just—when the police sees my quirk they’ll believe her. I know they will because—”

“It happened before,” Shouta finishes for him when Shinsou seems lost for words and he had always wondered about that smirch on his record.

But of course quirk discrimination is still rampant everywhere and Shinsou has already confided in them that he’s been called a villain most of his life. It’s not a stretch to believe the police wrote him off without a proper investigation and purely based on one statement.

“I’m going to call Tsukauchi,” Shouta decides and gets his phone out, trusting Hizashi to explain who that is to Shinsou as he presses the phone to his ear.

“Eraser, please, no more emergencies with your kids. I’m a detective, not a babysitter,” Tsukauchi greets him and Shouta snorts out a laugh.

“Yeah, welcome to my world. I need a favour.”

“Of course you do,” Tsukauchi sighs out. “What is it?”

Shouta briefly explains the situation to Tsukauchi who lets out another deep sigh.

“What’s his address? I’m guessing his mother went to the nearest police station.”

“Foster mother,” Shouta corrects him because no mother would ever do that and then he relays the question to Shinsou.

“I know someone at the station there,” Tsukauchi says once he has Shinsou’s answer. “Let me check with them real quick and I’ll call you back.”

“Tsukauchi, we need you on that case,” Shouta says because with his quirk it’s easy to prove that Shinsou didn’t do anything wrong.

“I know. I will be. I just need to see if the foster mother already stopped by and what exactly it is she’s accusing him of.” He doesn’t give Shouta time to say anything before he hangs up and Shouta doesn’t fight the urge to roll his eyes as he pockets his phone again.

“Tsukauchi is on it. You’ll be just fine, kid,” Shouta says, and Hizashi must have explained who Tsukauchi is because Shinsou bursts into tears.

“Thank you,” he gets out between his sobs and Shouta shuffles closer to awkwardly press his shoulder to Shinsou’s.

He’s not great with physical comfort but when Shinsou leans heavily into him, he guesses he must have done something right.

“I’ll make some tea,” Hizashi softly says and then signs to Shouta ‘And call CPS’.

Shouta nods, because that is not even a question. They will not allow Shinsou to stay with people who clearly have it out for him and what did they even get their foster licenses for if not this?

“You shouldn’t,” Shinsou mutters and Shouta frowns, because of course they need some tea in this situation but then Shinsou pushes away from him. “They will just move me to a group home because there’s no other family that will want to take me after this. I’d rather stay with them.”

Shouta and Hizashi share a surprised look before Hizashi signs ‘You understand sign?’

“I’ve been muzzled for most of my childhood. Had to learn to communicate somehow,” Shinsou says with a shrug as if that isn’t the most devastating news he could have delivered.

“Shinsou, if your foster mother really is going to accuse you of that, there’s no way we’re letting you go back there,” Shouta tries to explain, but all it serves to do is make Shinsou curl in on himself.

“Kiddo, we’re licensed foster parents,” Hizashi cuts in before Shouta can awkwardly fumble his way around anything else. “You’ll have to be moved after this and we just wanted to make sure you’ll be moved to us.”

“You—can do that?” Shinsou breathes out and Hizashi shrugs.

“We’re already pulling strings with Tsukauchi. What’s one more, right?”

Shinsou turns towards Shouta.

“And you’d—want to?”

“Of course we do, kid,” Shouta says and reaches out to ruffle Shinsou’s hair. “If we had known your situation was that bad we would have brought it up earlier, but we thought you were fine in your current home. We didn’t want to barge in where we’re not wanted.”

“I—nothing about that home is fine,” Shinsou mutters and Hizashi huffs out a breath.

“Yeah, we realise that. But no worries, we’ve got you. By the time this is over, you’ll be staying with us.”

Shouta nods but before he can say anything, his phone rings. Tsukauchi is calling back.

“She already came in and gave her statement. I need Shinsou here to take his statement.” Shouta really appreciates Tsukauchi’s brusque nature and he clasps Shinsou’s shoulder.

“We’ll be by in thirty.”

“You have classes,” Shinsou weakly protests but Shouta doesn’t pay him any mind.

“You or me?” he asks Hizashi who looks between Shinsou and Shouta for a moment.

“You,” he then decides and gives Shinsou a smile. “I’ll just make sure everyone knows not to expect either of you back today.” He gives them his horrendous finger guns but Shouta thinks he can excuse it this one time, because it makes Shinsou smile slightly.

“Alright, kid, off we go then,” Shouta says and pushes Shinsou out of the room.

The ride to the police station is silent, though Shouta spots Shinsou wringing his hands in his lap more than once and he wishes he could tell the kid to stop worrying but he knows that’s not in Shinsou’s nature.

He’s a natural worrier, Shouta came to learn that much during their training and he guesses with what he now knows of Shinsou’s living situation and his childhood it’s only understandable that he second guesses his every move.

When they finally arrive at the station, Tsukauchi is already waiting for them.

“Eraser, Shinsou,” he greets them and then leads them into a conference room almost immediately.

Shouta is thankful that it isn’t an interrogation room because that would have only spooked Shinsou more.

“Alright,” Tsukauchi starts once they are all seated. “Shinsou, your foster mother accused you of using your quirk against your foster father, making him change his behaviour around her. Now, I’ll ask you a bunch of questions and with my quirk Lie Detector we’ll quickly verify if any of that is true, alright?”

Shinsou nods, though he’s still tense and Shouta shuffles a bit closer.

If he can provide at least a little comfort like this, he’ll do it.

“I’ll need verbal answers from here on out, because otherwise my quirk doesn’t work, understood?”

“Yes,” Shinsou mutters and Tsukauchi gets out a dictation device.

“We’ll be recording everything and after every answer you give I’ll state if it’s true or not. Like that, there’s really nothing your foster mother can do and the charge against you will be dropped.”

Tsukauchi just rose several ranks higher in Shouta’s regard, because he doesn’t seem to believe that Shinsou did what his foster mother accused him of and for that Shouta is thankful.

“Okay,” Shinsou says and squares his shoulders as if he’s marching off into battle.

Shouta resigns himself for a passive role in this, because he’s here for moral support and nothing else. Hizashi might have been better for this, but there’s nothing to be done about it now.

“Your foster mother accused you of using your quirk against her husband. Are you aware of that?”

“Yes,” Shinsou gives back. “She told me she would this morning when he slipped out without even looking at her.”

“True. Told you?”

Shinsou winces and Shouta just hopes that Hizashi isn’t too busy with classes to call CPS.

“Screamed at me, more like. She threw a glass at me, too.”

“True. Did you get hurt?”

“Shallow cut on my shoulder.” Shinsou shrugs it off as if it doesn’t mean anything to him, as if that is just a normal occurrence and Shouta feels sick to his stomach to imagine a kid—and especially Shinsou who he may have grown more attached to than he should—in a situation like that.

He makes a mental note to check the kid over later, but he fears that he’s rather adept at first aid by now.

“True. Did you use your quirk on your foster father to make him behave in a certain way?”

Here, Shinsou hesitates and both Shouta and Tsukauchi note it with worry.

“I haven’t used my quirk on Yamamoto,” Shinsou finally says and Shouta holds his breath.

“True.” Tsukauchi hesitates. “Have you ever used your quirk on anyone who was in charge of taking care of you?” he then asks and Shouta feels his eyes flare because what the fuck does this have to do with anything?

“Tsukauchi,” Shouta warningly says but Tsukauchi doesn’t back down.

“I have to ask this.”

“Fucking bullshit,” Shouta spits out even as Shinsou shrinks deeper into his chair. “This has nothing to do with anything.”

“You know how this is going to look,” Tsukauchi gives back, just as heated. “We won’t be the only  ones who noticed this clarification. It’s not a good look and if this gets brought up later, someone can spin it around. Better to get it out now.”

Shouta hates that Tsukauchi has a point and it doesn’t help that Shinsou is deathly pale right now.

Shouta and Tsukauchi glare at each other for a moment before Shouta backs down, dragging his chair over to Shinsou’s until their shoulders touch.

“I’m on your side, kid, no matter what,” Shouta says because even if Shinsou used his quirk on anyone, with what he learned today about his childhood Shouta guesses he was more than justified, even if maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do.

“Shinsou, please answer the question. Have you ever used your quirk on anyone who was in charge of taking care of you?”

“Yes.” Shinsou’s voice is thin and shaky and Shouta startles when a trembling hand clutches his sleeve.

“True,” Tsukauchi says and he sounds decidedly unhappy about it.

“If you do not ask for his reason right now, I’m going to forget myself,” Shouta shortly says and now Tsukauchi looks about as unhappy as he sounds.

“Why did you use your quirk on anyone? To protect yourself?”

“No, I—” Shinsou takes a deep breath or at least tries to because it continues to come out rapid and short. “I never used it to protect myself.”

“True,” Tsukauchi says, now with a frown on his face but Shouta can already guess where this is going.

Of course Shinsou would never do it for himself; for someone else though—the kid wants to be a hero. Of course he’d try to protect someone else.

“What did you use your quirk for?”

Shinsou curls in on himself, and Shouta can’t help himself, he puts his arm around Shinsou and pulls him close.

“It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

Shinsou struggles to breathe for a moment before he basically slumps against Shouta.

“I—there was—in a previous family,” he haltingly starts. “The foster father there—he—” Shinsou cuts himself off and Shouta sees him gripping his own arm so tightly his fingers turn white. “I had a little sister there,” Shinsou finally gets out and Shouta goes cold with horror.

He’s worked enough years as an underground hero to understand where this is going and judging by Tsukauchi’s suddenly pale face he knows it, too.

“It—it took me a while to realise but once I did I—whenever he told us to go to sleep, I told him the same. It worked, for a while, until I fucked up and he realised. He kept me muzzled after that and—”

Shinsou breaks off with a sob and Shouta tightens his arm around him.

“True,” Tsukauchi finally says, because he has to, but Shouta still hates him for it. “How old were you? What was his name?”

It’s unthinkable, imagining what that guy could still be doing right now but Shinsou shakes his head.

“It doesn’t matter,” he gets out between his tears. “One night she—he’s paralyzed from the neck down and she’s dead.”

Shouta lets out his own shuddering breath and wonders if the kid ever went to therapy. With all the things Shouta learned today, he thinks it’s no longer optional, really.

“True,” Tsukauchi mutters and then stops the recording before he nods at Shouta and takes his leave with a muttered “I’ll take care of it.”

“I’m sorry, Shinsou,” Shouta says, because what else is there to say and Shinsou continues to cry, pressed close to Shouta.

“I just—I just wanted to protect her,” he eventually cries out and Shouta hums.

“I know. And you did the best you could,” he reassures him, because Shinsou did and he suffered for it, too.

Shinsou eventually calms down and once he does he seems worn out, completely drained of the little energy he usually has.

“What now?” he wants to ask and Shouta shrugs.

“Now I’m going to text Hizashi and then I’m going to take you home.”

“Home. Back to—them?”

“No,” Shouta denies immediately because there is no way he’s letting Shinsou back there. Who knows what that woman is going to do when she learns that her complaint has been brushed off. “I’m taking you home with me.”

Shouta trusts that Tsukauchi will have the necessary paperwork ready for him by the time they leave and Shouta gets his phone out to text Hizashi as well.

‘If the CPS gives you trouble burn it to the ground’ he types and immediately receives a thumb up emoji. ‘And ask Hound Dog if he has time to take on Shinsou or if he knows a therapist who could.’

‘That bad?’

‘Worse’, Shouta texts back and he will explain everything to Hizashi later but this is not something to be done over text. ‘I’m taking him home’.

‘You do that. Tell the little listener to get some rest’, Hizashi writes back and Shouta relays the message to Shinsou.

“I feel as if I could sleep for days now,” Shinsou admits and it must be a novel feeling for Shinsou, going by the eyebags.

“Then let’s do that,” Shouta decides and leads them out of the conference room.

Tsukauchi is waiting for them with the necessary paperwork that puts Shinsou in his preliminary care until the CPS can make it official and just like that they are out of the station and on their way home.

Shouta doubts that things will be easy and he is under no illusion that they only just scratched the surface of all the traumatic shit Shinsou went through until now, but he is safe with them now and Shouta and Hizashi will do their best to give Shinsou the loving home he deserves.

[beforecreation]

In truth, there was nothing he knew that meant giving his name was innately dangerous, especially when he could not recall what she had consumed in front of his very eyes. His reasoning for withholding his name had been far more minor, it coming back to his point of contention with the one who had brought him here in the first place: Regulus Corneas. Clearly, if she valued him so highly, his name should've rung in the ears of all those who lived in this precious utopia of hers. And yet if it were not for his inhuman appearance, he was certain he would've been mistaken for a servant who had lost his way.

For that reason, a reason that had caused this feline deity to narrowly avoid giving out information that would only damn him further, he would merely give a bow in 'apology' for being unable to return the gesture.

"Why if she hasn't told you, I'm terribly sorry, then I cannot tell you either. I don't wish to defy her any further than I have previously."

It would seem that despite her hunger, she was not to play an ironic game of cat and mouse. Good, the last thing he needed was to distract him from... something. Why had he entered the library? What was his goal? Confusion mixed with the new knowledge he had been given, he could recalls the words of Rui and her actions, but not once could he recall when he wandered the halls in search of the library, and yet his reasoning for doing so escaped him. His gaze would be fixed on Rui before shifting to his surroundings. Was it the girl or the area that occupied that had suddenly left him feeling disoriented?

Whatever the case was, it was clear he had lost progress in what he aimed to do; he would have to leave in order to ensure he didn't lose any more of his memory. It would be most fortunate that Rui herself didn't require much convincing on her end, did she simply seek to scare him? Intimidate weaker willed victims into confessing their desires to be free of Regulus and the part of the world that was carved out for her? Or was she simply contemplating eating a unique "husband" of her leader?

His questions would stay internal for now, his eyes watching as Rui's hair loosens and falls away in mere seconds, now allowing him his freedom once more. As if any part of this could be considered true freedom.

A mischievous kid, that one. Gluttony, was it? Perhaps he would toss a plate her way the next time servants come to serve him. Or perhaps he would toss a couple of rats her way, should he find them. It'd be like sneaking treats to a dog that stared at the food on the dinner table, except he'd likely have to worry about her trying to bite the hand that feeds her.

He exchanges a wave and a small smile as he begins to make his way out of the library. Earnestly, he hoped never to have to go through that experience again... what little details he could recall of it. In any case, sticking around here would most likely prove to not nearly a beneficial to him as he hoped. And as his bindings droop and fall away, he would get out of his chair and stretch, followed by a loud yawn.

A second bow is given, a bit more proper than the first. And, in a demonstration of good will, he'd go as far as to turn his back on her.

Granted, his hearing and reflexes would give him more than enough time to react properly, a flick to the head would've been enough to send most flying, and act as a proper deterrent should he attempt to avoid escalation. But no, she seemed to be content with waiting in her little spot, giving an offer that nearly made his stomach turn.

Still, he lets out a light laugh instead, and a nod, appearing to take her words in stride, rather than as a promise.

"Right, of course. If I ever prefer death, I'll offer my head to you on a silver platter."

With that over with, he felt the need to shower. She had not gotten any of her drool on him but... somehow, he felt as though she had not washed her hair nearly enough. It was time to discover if there was some glorified bathhouse he may take a soak in for a few minutes. It would just be a matter of navigating the halls again, which itself felt like a far more confusing ordeal than it had any right to be. Who knows if his intended destination was where he'd actually end up?

Her head tilted slightly as she scrutinized him, her gaze piercing. It seemed that someone had revealed more than they intended. She had introduced herself, sharing the name of the castle's owner and the ruler of the kingdom, yet he had withheld his own name. This only deepened her curiosity. What secrets did he harbor? What knowledge did he possess that made him wary of sharing his identity? If he were to divulge his name, would it vanish from existence, leaving him a mere shadow, known to no one? 

The thought amused her that he knew he could not give his name to her, and she chuckled softly.

But that didn’t deter her from feasting on the knowledge contained within the book he clutched. It was a mere distraction for him, a tool she could use to unravel all the progress he had made. The content of the book mattered little; with just a single bite, she could siphon the wisdom from its pages, leaving them blank and devoid of memory. He would forget why he had come or what he had done, as she plucked the memories from his mind, savoring their flavor. They were quite delectable, and yet, the hunger gnawed at her, evident in the way her fangs glistened. She was ravenous, craving something truly satisfying, and he was the perfect feast.

Even though the urge to devour him was strong, she restrained herself, standing confidently at the table with her hands on her hips. He was seated, looking up at her, while her hair coiled around his arms and a leg pinned him in place, ensuring he couldn't escape. He was trapped, and she had no intention of letting him go. If he wished to be free, he would have to earn it, but if he dared to break loose and strike her, it would be the gravest error of his life. There was no doubt that he was formidable; one blow from him could very well end her. Yet, she was not to be underestimated. She possessed strength that surpassed his, along with powers beyond his comprehension. 

Many had tried to take her down, and all had failed, their fates sealed in her hunger. Moreover, if he so much as touched her, she would summon her loyal pets to her side in an instant, ready to defend her. 

The last thing he wanted was to face the wrath of the three great beasts of the world, bound to obey her every command.

"Are you not going to introduce yourself? What’s your name?" she might as well have asked the air, knowing he might either remain silent or offer a name that was nothing but a facade. 

It seemed he was a bit more perceptive than the rest. She had a knack for uncovering secrets, devouring the identities of the husbands who wandered in, names that even their wives wouldn’t recognize. They were merely husbands, stripped of their essence, for they were never truly married; they were just numbers, branded and categorized. She relished in consuming their names and memories, rendering them docile and simple-minded. If she indulged too much, they would be reduced to mindless shells or fall into a deep, unending slumber from which they would never awaken.

Her gaze drifted down for a moment, reluctant yet compelled to listen as her golden hair unfurled, wrapping around his legs and arms before retracting, still coiling around her feet like a shimmering serpent. The length of it was astonishing, glistening in the light. As she released him, she observed him intently, wondering if he would rise and walk away. She followed him to the table, her sanctuary, the place where she lingered, preying on the foolish souls who entered. This was her domain, where she thrived, feasting on those who had lost their value in the world. Once she consumed someone, they vanished, fading from memory as if they had never existed at all.

“If you are bored of life come back here, please! I will miss you dearly. If you ever find life dull, would you consider letting me have a piece of you? It would be better than the thought of you trying to escape your fate. Whether I get to consume you alive or in another way, it doesn’t really matter to me, though I’d prefer you to be alive.” She chuckles for a moment, sharing the fate of the people around them—those who seek to flee their pain, who come here only to collapse on the ground, yearning to be consumed. 

For them, escape is merely a fantasy. There’s no way out from the Cult; they would chase him to the ends of the Earth, bringing him back time and again. But in truth, it hardly mattered, as he couldn’t even step beyond the kingdom’s borders without drawing attention from one of them.

[laff-nelson]

thinking about ryan gosling's luscious wavy hair and bangs

bonus:

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 57

Chapter Highlights (most of the chapter is the highlight lol)

An hour before dawn, the keep and two armies beyond it were stirring.

Rowan had barely slept, and instead lain awake beside Aelin, listening to her breathing.

That the rest of them slumbered soundly was testament to their exhaustion, though Lorcan had not found them again. Rowan was willing to bet it was by choice.

It was not fear or anticipation of battle that had kept Rowan up—no, he'd slept well enough during other wars. But rather the fact that his mind would not stop looping him from thought to thought to thought.

He'd seen the numbers camped outside.

Valg, human men loyal to Erawan, some fell beasts, yet nothing like the ilken or the

Wyrdhounds, or even the witches.

Aelin could wipe them away before the sun had fully risen. A few blasts of her power, and that army would be gone.

Yet she had not presented it as an option in their planning last night.

He'd seen the hope shining in the eyes of the people in the keep, the awe of the children as she'd passed. The Fire-Bringer, they'd whispered. Aelin of the Wildfire.

How soon would that awe and hope crumble today when not a spark of that fire was unleashed? How soon would the men's fear turn rank when the Queen of Terrasen did not wipe away Morath's legions?

He hadn't been able to ask her. Had told himself to, had roared at himself to ask these past few weeks, when even their training hadn't summoned an ember.

But he couldn't bring himself to demand why she wouldn't or couldn't use her power, why they had seen or felt nothing of it after those initial few days of freedom. Couldn't ask what Maeve and Cairn had done to possibly make her fear or hate her magic enough that she didn't touch it.

Worry and dread gnawing at him, Rowan slipped from the room, the din of preparations greeting him the moment he entered the hall. A heartbeat later, the door opened behind him, and steps fell into sync with his own, along with a familiar, wicked scent.

"They burned her."

Rowan glanced sidelong at Fenrys. "What?" But Fenrys nodded to a passing healer.

"Cairn—and Maeve, through her orders."

"Why are you telling me this?" Fenrys, blood oath or no, what he'd done for Aelin or no, was not privy to these matters. No, it was between him and his mate, and no one else.

Fenrys threw him a grin that didn't meet his eyes. "You were staring at her half the night. I could see it on your face. You're all thinking it—why doesn't she just burn the enemy to hell?" Rowan aimed for the washing station down the hall. A few soldiers and healers stood along the metal trough, scrubbing their faces to shake the sleep or nerves.

Fenrys said, "He put her in those metal gauntlets. And one time, he heated them over an open brazier. There…" He stumbled for words, and Rowan could barely breathe. "It took the healers two weeks to fix what he did to her hands and wrists. And when she woke up, there was nothing but healed skin. She couldn't tell what had been done and what was a nightmare." Rowan reached for one of the ewers that some of the children refilled every few moments and dumped it over his head. Icy water bit into his skin, drowning out the roaring in his ears.

"Cairn did many things like that." Fenrys took up a ewer himself, and splashed some into his hands before rubbing them over his face.

Rowan's hands shook as he watched the water funnel toward the basin set beneath the trough.

"Your claiming marks, though." Fenrys wiped his face again. "No matter what they did to her, they remained. Longer than any other scar, they stayed."

Yet her neck had been smooth when he'd found her.

Reading that thought, Fenrys said, "The last time they healed her, right before she escaped. That's when they vanished. When Maeve told her that you had gone to Terrasen."

The words hit like a blow. When she had lost hope that he was coming for her. Even the greatest healers in the world hadn't been able to take that from her until then.

Rowan wiped his face on the arm of his jacket. "Why are you telling me this?" he repeated.

Fenrys rose from the trough, drying his face with the same lack of ceremony. "So you can stop wondering what happened. Focus on something else today." The warrior kept pace beside him as they headed for where they'd been told a meager breakfast would be laid out.

"And let her come to you when she's ready."

"She's my mate," Rowan growled. "You think I don't know that?" Fenrys could shove his snout into someone else's business.

Fenrys held up his hands. "You can be brutal, when you want something."

"I'd never force her to tell me anything she wasn't ready to say." It had been their bargain from the start. Part of why he'd fallen in love with her.

He should have known then, during those days in Mistward, when he found himself sharing parts of himself, his history, that he'd never told anyone. When he found himself needing to tell her, in fragments and pieces, yes, but he'd wanted her to know. And Aelin had wanted to hear it. All of it.

They discovered Aelin and Elide already at the buffet table, grim-faced as they plucked up pieces of bread and cheese and dried fruit. No sign of Gavriel or Lorcan.

Rowan came up behind his mate and pressed a kiss to her neck. Right to where his new claiming marks lay.

She hummed, and offered him a bite of the bread she'd already dug into while gathering the rest of her food. He obliged, the bread thick and hearty, then said, "You were asleep when I left a few minutes ago, yet you somehow beat me to the breakfast table." Another kiss to her neck. "Why am I not surprised?"

Elide laughed beside Aelin, piling food onto her own plate. Aelin only elbowed him as he fell into line beside her.

The four of them ate quickly, refilled their waterskins at the fountain in an interior courtyard, and set about finding armor. There was little on the upper levels that was fit for wearing, so they descended into the keep, deeper and deeper, until they came across a locked room.

"Should we, or is it rude?" Aelin mused, peering at the wooden door.

Rowan sent a spear of his wind aiming for the lock and splintered it apart. "Looks like it was already open when we got here," he said mildly.

Aelin gave him a wicked grin, and Fenrys pulled a torch off its bracket in the narrow stone hallway to illuminate the room beyond.

"Well, now we know why the rest of the keep is a piece of shit," Aelin said, surveying the trove. "He's kept all the gold and fun things down here."

Indeed, his mate's idea of fun things was the same as Rowan's: armor and swords, spears and ancient maces.

"He couldn't have distributed this?" Elide frowned at the racks of swords and daggers.

"It's all heirlooms," said Fenrys, approaching one such rack and studying the hilt of a sword. "Ancient, but still good. Really good," he added, pulling a blade from its sheath.

He glanced at Rowan. "This was forged by an Asterion blacksmith."

"From a different age," Rowan mused, marveling at the flawless blade, its impeccable condition. "When Fae were not so feared."

"Are we just going to take it? Without even Chaol's permission?" Elide chewed on her lip.

Aelin snickered. "Let's consider ourselves swords-for-hire. And as such, we have fees that need to be paid." She hefted a round, golden shield, its edges beautifully engraved with a motif of waves. Also Asterion-made, judging by the craftsmanship. Likely for the Lord of Anielle— the Lord of the Silver Lake. "So, we'll take what we're owed for today's battle, and spare His Lordship the task of having to come down here himself."

Gods, he loved her.

Fenrys winked at Elide. "I won't tell if you don't, Lady."

Elide blushed, then waved them onward. "Collect your earnings, then."

Rowan did. He and Fenrys found armor that could fit them—in certain areas. They had to forgo the entire suit, but took pieces to enforce their shoulders, forearms, and shins. Rowan had just finished strapping greaves on his legs when Fenrys said, "We should bring some of this up for Lorcan and Gavriel."

Indeed they should. Rowan eyed other pieces, and began collecting extra daggers and blades, then sections from another suit that might fit Lorcan, Fenrys doing the same for Gavriel.

"You must charge a great deal for your services," Elide muttered. Even while the Lady of Perranth tied a few daggers to her own belt.

"I need some way to pay for my expensive tastes, don't I?" Aelin drawled, weighing a dagger in her hands.

But she hadn't donned any armor yet, and when Rowan gave her an inquiring glance, Aelin jerked her chin toward him. "Head upstairs-track down Lorcan and Gavriel. I'll find you soon."

Her face was unreadable for once. Perhaps she wanted a moment alone before battle. And when Rowan tried to find any words in her eyes, Aelin turned toward the shield she'd claimed. As if contemplating it.

So Rowan and Fenrys headed upstairs, Elide helping to haul their stolen gear. No one stopped them. Not with the sky turning to gray, and soldiers rushing to their positions on the battlements.

Rowan and Fenrys didn't have far to go.

They'd be stationed by the gates at the lower level, where the battering rams might come flying through if Morath got desperate enough.

On the level above them, Chaol sat astride his magnificent black horse, the mare's breath curling from her nostrils. Rowan lifted a hand in greeting, and Chaol saluted back before gazing toward the enemy army.

The khaganate would make the first maneuver, the initial push to get Morath moving.

"I always forget how much I hate this part," Fenrys muttered. "The waiting before it begins."

Rowan grunted his agreement.

Gavriel prowled up to them, Lorcan a dark storm behind him. Rowan wordlessly handed the latter the armor he'd gathered. "Courtesy of the Lord of Anielle." Lorcan gave him a look that said he knew Rowan was full of shit, but began efficiently donning the armor, Gavriel doing the same.

Whether the soldiers around them marked that armor, whether Chaol recognized it, no one said a word.

"Ready now," Chaol called out to the men of his keep.

This would be it—today. Whether that hope remained or fractured.

Already, the awakening sky revealed two siege towers being hauled toward them. Right to the wall. Far closer than Rowan had last noted when flying overhead last night. Morath, it seemed, had not been sleeping, either.

The ruks would remain back with their own army, driving Morath to the keep. To be picked off here, one by one.

"We have minutes until that first tower makes contact with the wall," Gavriel observed. A scan of the battlements, the soldiers atop them, revealed no sign of Aelin. Lorcan indeed muttered, "Someone better tell her to stop primping and get here." Rowan snarled in warning.

"Archers!" Chaol's bellow rang out. Behind them, down the battlements, bows groaned. Fenrys unslung the bow across his back and nocked an arrow into place.

Rowan kept his own bow strapped across his back, the quiver untouched, Gavriel and Lorcan doing the same. No need to waste them on a few soldiers when their aim might be needed with far worse targets later in the day.

But one of them had to be noted felling soldiers. For whatever it would do to rally their spirits. And Fenrys, as fine an archer as Rowan, he'd admit, would do just fine.

Rowan followed the line of Fenrys's arrowhead to where he'd marked one of the bearers of a siege ladder. "Make it impressive," he muttered.

"Mind your own business," Fenrys muttered back, tracking his target with the tip of his arrow as he awaited Chaol's order.

If Aelin didn't arrive within another moment, he'd have to leave the battlements to find her. What in hell had held her up?

Lorcan drew his ancient blade, which Rowan had witnessed felling soldiers in kingdoms far from here, in wars far longer than this one. "They'll head for the gates when that siege tower docks," Lorcan said, glancing from the battlements to the gate a level below, the small bastion of men in front of it. Trees had been felled to prop up the metal doors, but should a solid enough group of enemy soldiers swarm it, they might get those supports and the heavy locks down within minutes. And open the gates to the hordes beyond

"We don't let them get that far," Rowan said, eyeing up the massive tower lumbering closer. Soldiers teemed behind it, waiting to scale its interior. "Chaol brought the tower down the other day without our help. It can happen again."

"Volley!" Chaol's roar echoed off the stones, and arrows sang.

Like a swarm of locusts, they swept upon the soldiers marching below. Fenrys's arrow found its mark with lethal precision.

Within a heartbeat, another was on its tail. A second soldier at the siege ladder fell.

Where the hell was Aelin—

Morath didn't halt. Marched right over the soldiers who fell on their front lines.

The pulse of human fear down the battlements rippled against his skin. The cadre would have to strike fast, and strike well, to shake it away.

The siege tower lumbered closer. One glance from Rowan had him and his friends moving toward the spot it would now undeniably strike upon the battlements. Close enough to the stairs down to the gate. Morath had chosen the location well.

Some of the soldiers they passed were praying, a shuddering push of words into the frigid morning air.

Lorcan said to one of them, "Save your breath for the battle, not the gods."

Rowan shot him a look, but the man, gaping at Lorcan, quieted.

Chaol ordered another volley, and arrows flew, Fenrys firing as he walked. As if he were barely bothered.

Still, the whispered prayers continued down the line, swords shaking along with them.

Up by Chaol, the soldiers held firm, faces solid.

But here, on this level of the battlements ... those faces were pale. Wide-eyed.

"Someone better say something inspiring," Fenrys said through gritted teeth, firing another arrow. "Or these men are going to piss themselves in a minute."

For a minute was all they had left, as the first siege tower inched closer.

"You've got the pretty face," Lorcan retorted. "You'd do a better job of it."

"It's too late for speeches," Rowan cut in before Fenrys could reply. "Better to show them what we can do."

Rowan steadied his breathing, readying his magic to rip through Valg lungs. He'd fell a few with his blades first. To show how easily it could be done, that Morath was desperate and victory would be near. The magic would come later.

The siege tower groaned as it slowed to a stop.

Just as the wall under them shuddered at its impact, Fenrys whispered, "Holy gods."

Not at the bridge that snapped down, soldiers teeming in the dark depths inside.

But at who emerged from the keep archway behind them. What emerged.

Rowan didn't know where to look. At the soldiers pouring out of the siege tower, leaping onto the battlements, or at Aelin.

At the Queen of Terrasen.

She'd found armor below the keep. Beautiful, pale gold armor that gleamed like a summer dawn. Holding back her braided hair, a diadem lay flush against her head. Not a diadem, but a piece of armor. Part of some ancient set for a lady long since buried.

A crown for war, a crown to wear into battle. A crown to lead armies.

There was no fear on her face, no doubt, as Aelin hefted her shield, flipping Goldryn in her hand once before the first of Morath's soldiers was upon her.

A swift, upward strike cleaved the Morath grunt from navel to chin. His black blood sprayed, but she was already moving, flowing like a stream around a rock.

Rowan launched into movement, his blades finding their marks, but still he watched her.

Aelin slammed her shield against an oncoming warrior, Goldryn slicing through another before she plunged the blade into the soldier she'd deflected.

She did it again, and again.

All while heading toward that siege tower. Unhindered. Unleashed.

A call went down the line. The queen has come.

Soldiers waiting their turn whirled toward them. Aelin took on three Valg soldiers and left them dying on the stones.

She planted her line before the gaping maw of that siege tower, right in the path of those teeming hordes. Every moment of the training she'd done on the ship here, on the road, every new blister and callus—all to rebuild herself for this.

The queen has come.

Goldryn unfaltering, her shield an extension of her arm, Aelin glowed like the sun that now broke over the khagan's army as she engaged each soldier that hurtled her way.

Five, ten—she moved and moved and moved, ducking and swiping, shoving and flipping, black blood spraying, her face the portrait of grim, unbreaking will.

"The queen!" the men shouted. "To the queen!"

And as Rowan fought his way closer, as that cry went down the battlements and Anielle men ran to aid her, he realized that Aelin did not need an ounce of flame to inspire men to follow.

That she had been waiting, yanking at the bit, to show them what she, without magic, without any godly power, might do.

He'd never seen such a glorious sight. In every land, every battle, he had never seen anything as glorious as Aelin before the throat of the siege tower, holding the line.

Dawn breaking around them, Rowan loosed a battle cry and tore into Morath.

This first battle would set the tone.

It would set the tone, and send a message.

Not to Morath.

Impress us, Hasar had said.

So she would. So she'd picked the golden armor and her battle-crown. And waited until dawn, until that siege tower slammed into the battlements, before unleashing herself.

To keep the men here from breaking, to wipe away the fear festering in their eyes.

To convince the khaganate royals of what she might do, what she could do. Not a threat, but a reminder.

She was no helpless princess. She had never been.

Goldryn sang with each swipe, her mind as cool and sharp as the blade while she assessed each enemy soldier, their weapons, and took them down accordingly. She dimly knew that Rowan fought at her side, Gavriel and Fenrys battling near her left flank.

But she was keenly aware of the mortal men who leaped into the fray with cries of defiance.

They'd made it this far. They would survive today, too. And the khaganate royals would know it.

Galloping hooves drowned out the battle, and then Chaol was there, sword flashing, driving into the unending tide that rushed from the tower's entrance.

"To Lord Chaol! To the queen!"

How far they both were from Rifthold.

From the assassin and the captain.

Arrows rose from the army beyond the wall, but a wave of icy wind snapped them into splinters before they could find any marks. A dark blur plunged past, and then Lorcan was at the siege tower's mouth, his sword swinging so fast Aelin could barely follow it. He battled his way across the metal bridge of the tower, into the stairwell beyond. Like he'd fight his way down the ramps and onto the battlefield itself. Below, a boom began. Morath had brought in their battering ram.

Aelin smiled grimly. She'd bring them all down. Then Erawan. And then she'd unleash herself upon Maeve.

At the opposite end of the field, the khagan's army pushed, gaining the field step by step.

Not helpless. Not contained. Never again.

Death became a melody in her blood, every movement a dance as the tide of soldiers pouring from the tower slowed. As if Lorcan was indeed forcing his way down the interior.

Those who got past him met her blade, or Rowan's. A flash of gold, and Gavriel had slaughtered his way into the siege tower as well, twin blades a whirlwind.

What Lorcan and the Lion would do upon reaching the bottom, how they'd dislodge the tower, she didn't know. Didn't think about it.

Not from this place of killing and movement, of breath and blood. Of freedom.

Death had been her curse and her gift and her friend for these long, long years. She was happy to greet it again under the golden morning sun.

[euthymiya]

The heater’s out. December’s cold is unforgiving as it seeps between the cracks of your doors and through the windows, forcing you to huddle closer.

Sukuna grunts as your freezing, icy feet press against his calves. “Your feet are fuckin’ cold. Get’em off.”

“No,” you whine, “You’re warm.”

Just to prove your point, you press them harder against his skin, making him hiss in irritation. “Quit it! It’s fucking freezing.”

“Yeah? Why are you wearing nothing but boxers in this cold, then?” You challenge, raising a brow as if you’ve sufficiently turned the tables on him. He glares at you—a bit cutely at that, given that his tussled hair and the blanket tucked beneath his chin both make him look far less intimidating than he hopes.

He pulls his legs away as he mutters, “Because I’m too used to sleeping like this.”

Your feet follow them as they move away from you, pressing them against his heated skin once more stubbornly. “To used to what, sleeping half naked? I wonder what that says about you.”

Money has been tighter. Enough that when you and Sukuna shower together, it really is to save water and not as an excuse for…well, other things. You don’t buy your little goods from the bakery on your way home sometimes anymore. He doesn’t go through his cigarette packs as quickly when stocking up on more isn’t as simple as it used to be. Things aren’t as easy as they used to be, but never hard.

It’s never hard with Sukuna.

Sure, the heater’s out. And December feels like a harsh, unrelenting reminder of that. The apartment is cold, but Sukuna is warmer, so maybe, when you count your blessings, you’re not doing all too bad.

“We should get the damn heating system fixed,” you say softly, smiling as he curls under the blanket further. He glowers over the edge of the comforter, just the tip of his nose peeking out as his muffled reply comes.

“Yeah, as if I hadn’t already thought of that. We ain’t got the funds, idiot.”

“Maybe I can pick up a few more shifts,” you murmur. He frowns at that—because really, that means more late nights where you’re not home where you should be. Safe and sound and not out there.

“Nah,” he mutters, clicking his teeth. You fight back a grin as he pulls you closer and tangles his legs with yours, grimacing when your painfully icy toes torment his poor legs again. This time he lets you, though. “I’ll figure something out.”

“That’s okay. You should use your money to get some clothes, or something. Sleeping naked in winter is not doing you any favors,” you giggle cheekily.

He raises a brow—that familiar, smug, almost nauseatingly handsome smile erupts across his lips as he chuckles lowly. “Yeah? You’re sayin’ you don’t appreciate the view?”

“Well, I guess that would be a pretty harsh loss,” you sigh deeply, pretending to wipe a tear. He rolls his eyes. You wink slyly. Heat trickles along your body from under your ribcage where the heating system could never reach.

“Cheeky, aren’t you?” He says gruffly, and a large hand comes to grab your face gently and press your cheeks together. Your puffed up lips make him crack a small smile.

“Mhm,” you nod, grinning (as much as you can through squeezed cheeks) before offering a muffled reply of, “I keep you on your toes, don’t I?”

“More like on my deathbed,” he snorts.

You don’t answer—it’s too cold to think of a reply right away.

You let out an involuntary shiver as a small wave of frigid, chilly air breezes through the room. You shuffle closer, and his arms are wide and open and waiting. He smells like cologne and coming home. Feels like warm flesh and your favorite place. You lean in and kiss him to share your body heat, pressing your lips against his and letting his tongue invade your mouth briefly. He tastes like mint mingled with cigarette smoke and oddly enough, that’s all you need.

“We kind of suck at this adulting thing,” you whisper as you pull away.

“What gives you that idea?” He hums as rough, callused fingers stroke the skin of your back under your shirt. You shiver again—this time from heat igniting your skin instead of the cold, though.

“We can hardly afford to stay warm,” you shake your head, “What does that say about us?”

“That we’re victims of this stupid fuckin’ economy. They should compensate us for our suffering.”

You roll your eyes and grin. You’re cold, but not devoid of heat. Sukuna is warm, and so are your toes against his calves, and so is that place in your chest that happens to do a squeeze here and there. You think it might be your heart—think he may have found his way to that weird, necessary organ in your body that keeps you going. But the difference is now that he’s here, you’re alive and not just living.

And yeah, the heater’s out. December is as cold as it is every year, and nothing’s going to change that. You can’t make yourself warmer, but you can be cold with Sukuna. That’s more than enough to make things bearable.

“I’ll keep you warm,” you offer, batting your lashes sweetly. You wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his cheeks in a flurry of kisses.

His face does a small, red flush.

“Quit it,” he snaps. He doesn’t mean it because his arms grip your hips tighter as if to keep you firmly in place. Right there where you are and where you belong and where he needs you to be.

You shouldn’t be anywhere else but here, keeping his body warm in this sorely harsh weather.

“Why? It’s already working—you’re overheating,” you tease.

He pulls the blanket up and between your faces to create a barrier as you come in for the next kiss, and when you laugh, bright and warm, he forgets he was ever cold.

————————————

Wrote this bc my place is freezing. Not because the heater is broken though it’s just because I’m too lazy to get out of bed and turn the heat up so I am suffering the same problem yes, but I do have a solution. That doesn’t mean the solution will be used though. I fear I am but just a girl