#ironic humor in other words

[geneviveleocardius]

dad’s got it covered

feat. simon riley

the soft clatter of pots and pans fills the kitchen as you stir the bubbling pot of pasta sauce. the warm aroma of garlic and herbs drifts through the house, mingling with the faint sound of the tv playing in the living room. amidst it all, your toddler’s tiny voice breaks through, high-pitched and filled with excitement.

“mummy, i want the braid! the one rapunzel has!” she calls from the couch, holding a toy brush in her small hands.

you glance over your shoulder, a small smile tugging at your lips. “later, sweetheart,” you say, your voice gentle but distracted. “mummy’s making dinner right now.”

there’s a pause, and then the sound of her humming to herself, followed by the occasional soft giggle. it’s enough to make you peek out of the kitchen, curiosity getting the better of you. what you see stops you in your tracks.

simon, your husband—your hulking, stoic husband—sits on the floor behind your daughter. his large hands, so used to wielding weapons and carrying the weight of the world, now work with a surprising delicacy. he’s carefully braiding her fine hair, his expression one of focused determination. your daughter is practically glowing, a radiant grin on her face as she chatters away, oblivious to how tender the moment is.

your heart softens, warmth blooming in your chest as you lean against the doorway, watching them. simon glances up briefly, catching your eye. there’s a flicker of something in his gaze—a mixture of pride and amusement.

“you’re lucky she doesn’t want the full rapunzel treatment,” he murmurs, his deep voice laced with dry humor. “i’d need a ladder.”

you laugh softly, shaking your head. “you’re doing great, love,” you say, meaning every word.

years pass in the blink of an eye. your little girl is no longer so little, and the house feels quieter, the once-constant chaos of toddler life now replaced by the rhythm of a teenager’s world. tonight, your daughter has a party to attend. she’d asked you earlier to iron her hair, a request you’d readily agreed to.

but somewhere between the dishes and the laundry, exhaustion crept in. you’d sat down for just a moment and fallen asleep. when you wake with a start, panic surges through you. you glance at the clock, your heart sinking as you realize how much time has passed.

“oh no,” you mutter, scrambling to your feet. “her hair—”

you rush out of the room, searching for her, guilt already gnawing at you. when you find her, the sight that greets you makes you stop short.

she’s sitting in front of the vanity in her room, scrolling casually through her phone. behind her stands simon, a flat iron in one hand and a comb in the other. his movements are slow and precise as he smooths out her hair, section by section.

your daughter barely looks up from her phone, her trust in her father’s meticulousness evident. but you can see it—the care in simon’s touch, the way he handles her hair like it’s the most delicate thing in the world. his expression is the same as it was all those years ago, when he braided her hair for the first time: focused, patient, and filled with an unspoken love.

your heart melts at the sight, the guilt dissolving into something softer, sweeter. leaning against the doorway, you smile to yourself, the memory of a tiny girl and a father’s careful hands blending seamlessly with the present.

“you’re amazing, you know that?” you say softly, your voice breaking the quiet.

simon glances at you, one corner of his mouth twitching up into a faint smirk. “just don’t expect me to start charging for haircuts,” he murmurs, his voice teasing but warm.

your daughter, still focused on her phone, rolls her eyes with a groan. “dad, you’re so lame.”

you laugh quietly, your heart full to bursting. watching them, you realize some things never change—and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[hoshigray]

𝐂𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | s. gojō + s. ryōmen

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Three powerful empires, two childhood companions, and one you. What is supposed to be a peaceful alliance is slowly turning into a rocky relationship between royal friends...Is there any way you can save it?

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo + true form! Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - royal-like + fantasy AU! - porn with plot - Gojo + reader is age 28 + Sukuna is older; mid-30s - mutual pining + confessions - size differences - threesome - double penetration; anal & vaginal - virginity loss - fingering (f! receiving) - back-to-chest + cowgirl dp positions - clitoral play - cerfix-fucking - overstimulation - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, dove, human, little one, pet, sweetie) - marriage proposals - cameos: Utahime and Miwa - Gojo and Sukuna can't stand each other, obvi - humor + drama - mention of drool, blood, spit and tears - will be proofread later.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 15.4k words (BRUH, i hate it here.)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: aight, after 10 whole months, it's FINALLY dropped! this took foreverrrr, ughhhh. anyways, sorry for the long wait, hope you enjoy this one, and thanks again for 11.2k starlings, ilysmmm!! ☆☆

“…”

“—y Lady…My Lady!”

“Huh?” You blink and face the door where the voice is coming from. “Oh, I’m sorry, Utahime. You can come in.”

“Jeez, I was knocking for a whole minute.” Your lady-in-waiting, Utahime, closes the door behind her when entering your chambers, walking up to where you were sitting by the mirror. “And I thought I told you to refer to me by my last name, my Lady.”

You smile at the reflection of the other coming behind you, kneeling and readying the iron basin filled with warm water and rose petals. Her hand and the washcloth swish the surface for the floral scents to enter your nostrils. “Well, we’ve been friends for how long? I’ve referred to you by your first name for all my life, even before you became my handmaiden.”

“Hmph, even then,” Utahime scoffs before taking your feet and dipping them in the warm water. “You don’t see me dare call the sole, precious child of this empire’s greatest warrior by their given name.”

“No, but I always tell you I don’t mind. Besides, you usually do it when we’re alone, and that’s enough for me.”

“If that’s what makes my Lady hap—“

“It does.” You look at her with a pleasant aura, and the dark-haired one snickers before straining the washcloth. 

“As you wish…Y/n.” You puff your chest with satisfaction; however, your handmaiden isn’t done talking, “But I know the matter of my name isn’t something that’s having you lost in your thoughts.” Her observation takes you slightly aback, and her brown orbs peer up to capture your attention. “Would you like to tell me what’s corrupting your mind?”

With a heavy sigh, your back touches the chair as you slouch. Your eyes glance to the open window as the blinds drift gently with the calm wind. The swaying motions of the curtains almost convince your stress to wither away along with the quietness. Almost.

“Utahime,” you begin with her name, still facing the window. “…What do you think about Lord Satoru Gojo?”

“Tch,” you didn’t have to turn to know that the woman had the most disgusted expression, the click of her teeth was telling. “What is there to think?”

“Hehe, well, we’ve known each other since we could walk—“

“Yeah, and — pardon me, my Lady — but that bastard is such a nuisance, even if he just became the crowned heir of the Gojo bloodline and the holder of the Six Eyes.” The dark-haired woman scrubs your feet with vigor, but you don’t say anything, containing your laughter. “That man–ugh! Every time he visits the palace, he will never stop teasing me for deciding to leave my family and become your lady-in-waiting. Who does he think he is!”

The laugh you try to hinder seeps out in hushed giggles. “Well—ahem—what about Lord Ryomen?”

Utagime stops her hand and washcloth between your toes, her face in your direction. Both brows trenched with a thin line of her mouth. “……As of recent…Scary–no, intimidating would be an understatement...my Lady, perhaps the visit and stay of the two lords is what have you down?”

Another heavy sigh, “I guess that would be the case…”

You reside in the founding empire of the great continent. In the ancient past, it is said that the Great Saint Tengen came from the heavens and blessed this world with miracles, living in the country that you’re standing in right now. It was said that Tengen was the benevolent child of Gods and the Parent of Beings who graced everyone – both human and non – with compassion, kindness, and love through their sorcery. When they disappeared, the world fell into a divide, their people sticking amongst themselves while following the teachings and words of Saint Tengen.

As the centuries came following this tale, the countries of this world have maintained a relatively peaceful union. However, the main continent – your continent – is home to three major empires: the North, the East, and the West. As mentioned before, you live in the founding Western nation, also known as the homeland of Tengen. 

You are a royal of this land and the sole heir to the throne right after your father, a mighty war soldier and sorcerer respected by his people and allies. As the crowned king of the Western capital, your father has done his job in using his strong leadership to maintain a functional structure for the people, using his wisdom to tread on matters with a tranquil mind, and making decisions that would not only benefit his own people but also his allies. Sometimes, you forget that such a great man could be your father. Yet his undying love for you, his sole child and princess, proves how lucky you are.

In the Northern Lands above are known as the land of Sorcery. Your father may be a powerful sorcerer, but the empire he rules does not harbor the majority of the population who practice sorcery (or lack thereof). That would go to the snowy Northern Empire, a land where many of Tengen’s scholars and practitioners have come from and implemented their teachings. The current head of this nation is bestowed to the affluent House Gojo, who recently crowned their heir after the death of its late king. Satoru Gojo, the first royal after a century gifted with two of the most intense abilities made by Saint Tengen – the Six Eyes and Limitless – sits on the Northern throne. And is also a dear family friend.

To the East lies a country mostly comprised of harsh deserts and dangerous forests, filled with creatures that aren’t of the human imagination. Once referred to as the land of “Tengen’s True Children,” the eastern empire is known worldwide as the Demon Country. Creatures reside in this part, beings that can easily overpower the average human – or worse, kill. They are ruled by the King of Demons, Sukuna Ryomen. As the scariest, cold-hearted, and violent beast of the empire, Sukuna is regarded as Tengen’s “Fallen Star,” a soul that embodies the precise opposite nature of the saint. And yet, this brutal master is also a cherished companion in the company of you and your father.

“What about their visits seems to make you upset?” Utahime lifts the bottom of your nightgown to scrub further up, the warm, damp towel scraping the skin of your left femur. 

“I don’t know…I suppose it’s because things are different than a decade and a half ago.” It was one way of speaking the truth.

“Why, of course, things would be different now. You expect I’d be looking after a tiny heir all my life?” She giggles. “Although, that would be quite nice.”

“Oh, to be young forever would be a treat, wouldn’t it?” You add on to her humor. “Yet, that’s not what I meant. It’s been so long since the three of us been in this palace together – let alone in any space together. The War of the Blood and Magic has been ongoing for years now. Whenever my father wishes to speak with them about an issue, one must be here while the other is in their respective territory.“ 

“Mmm, I have observed that…But still, even with this war going on, it shouldn’t negate the fact that you three have been friends for so long. I still remember the day young Gojo came to the garden where you and I were making flower crowns.“

You smile at the memory. “I remember how upset you were when he grabbed my hand one day and took us to his guest room to show his Limitless.”

You try your hardest to keep in your laughter when she glares up at you – not at you, but at the recollection instead. “That fool, even as a child, knows nothing of boundaries. He was a bright boy — still is, I’ll give him that. But my Gods, the way he would do everything in his power to impress you was so cocky of a young lord, especially in the presence of the next heir to the continent. The nerve of him…And then! The time he had the nerve to question me when I told you I wanted to be your handmaiden. That little blue-eyed weasel said, ‘You? The daughter of a mediocre house, as the princess’ personal maid? You should try and aim lower or marry someone who’d tolerate your un-ladylike attitude.’ I was too stunned to speak…I should’ve choked his ass out!” 

“—Pfffthahaha, stop, you’re scrubbing too hard!” You halt your lady-in-waiting with stiffened giggles, the poor woman sighing for displaying such aggression unbefitting for her title. “You could never stand him, and to think I thought you had a crush on him.” 

“Please, my Lady, never say that aloud, or else my father would try to make my worst nightmare become reality.” She shakes her head, putting your left leg into the basin and switching to the right. 

“And the day I introduced you as my maid to him, you had the smugest smirk that couldn’t be wiped off that night.”

“You’re goddamn right, my Lady!” That coarse remark had the both of you in a fit of cackles, water damn near splashing out as you wiggle your legs. “Ahhhh, but those were the days. I believe Lord Ryomen came into the picture after that. I remember the first day your father accepted the young demon king’s wish to seek an audience; he was a bit shorter than his current eight-foot-tall stature. Four arms were tiny like a teenager, and his,” she waves a hand up and down over the left side of her face. “This was distinguishable.”

You hum along with the description of the once young teenage demon king. “His human mother died during childbirth, and his father a demon who was exorcised for impregnating the poor woman. He was the first hybrid sorcerer of his time to utilize sorcery with the dark techniques of demon arts, becoming the most powerful and making a name for himself in the Eastern empire. He was alongside my father during the Great Demon War, using his powers to take down opposing cursed forces from outside nations. The two earned each other’s respect – more on my father’s part.”

“That, he was…truly a hard one to read, outside of always looking like he’d cut something out of boredom. I worried for the day he’d catch sight of me looking at him the wrong way and slice my throat,” the mere thought of the deadly being’s scowl was enough to send goosebumps up Utahime’s way. “Even the spars he had with your father and Gojo, I’m amazed to see this palace still standing in one piece.”

“Hehe, imagine how I felt when he’d catch me watching and then pull me aside to train with him — not asking, demanding that he teaches me how to wield a weapon.”

“Ohhh, my Lady, my nerves were never calm whenever he instructed you. Fearing for your life was my biggest sport. He couldn’t stand the fact that the sole heir of the greatest warrior didn’t have the drive to wield and charge.” She places your other leg down, rinsing the washcloth with more water before asking for your right arm. “It’s not like your father ever dared to entertain the thought of you entering battle anyway! That man, truly a scary thing…”

You throw your head back, resting it on the rail of the chair. “For my eighteenth year, he gifted me my own sword — handmade and light for my hands.”

“Men.” Utahime shakes her head once again. “Yet, despite how odd he and Gojo are, they seemed at ease whenever you were around. Whether it be visits from them to discuss with the King or attending events here at the palace, those two acted a lot more…calm.” 

Her observations stuck with you, closing your eyes to think more. “I only wonder if we could revert to those days when we were close. Unfortunately, with this current war between the two, this vision is impossible to imagine….”

You and the two lords have been friends for years – decades, even. And you were no fool; it was apparent that this relationship would dwell into something less familiar once the two become distant. And the war between the two empires proves this statement true…

It was your twenty-fourth year when you heard the news of the War of Blood and Magic. A year prior, an incident in the northern empire occurred where a sorcerer and his company were butchered by invading demons. Enraged, many men would go down to the demon continent to pillage and exorcise demon villages and towns as a form of justice. However, it only sparked the increasing tension between the factions into a conflict past the phase of talk and civilized words. 

Taking matters into his own hands, Sukuna found the men responsible for the rampage and had their bodies sliced within seconds, sending their bloody, severed heads back to the North as his declaration of war. In the coming years after that, there was nothing but ongoing bloodshed between the two; every battle and atrocity shared with your father made you squeamish – not just because of the brutality, but also the loss of Sukuna and Gojo’s relationship with every passing day.  

It made you feel sick — powerless in wanting the two to remember their merciful ways and talk like men. But you knew that was child's play — the time for miracles and fairy tales vanished with Tengen. And now, as the fourth year of this constant battle between humans and demons of this continent shows no signs of stopping, your worrying nature is on edge more than ever. 

“It may seem impossible to imagine, but it doesn’t mean it’s not worth the execution,” Utahime’s voice rings you back to the present, alternating to your left arm to wipe before dismissing herself from the night. “I’m sure your father believes that as well; otherwise, he wouldn’t have invited the two here for the first time in four years. I think he and all the people of this empire grow worrisome for the fate of this continent if all that’ll be left is a clash between two factions.”

“That may be true,” yet your tone was somber. “But if he can’t convince his two trusted allies to cease this fight, then I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do but see who comes out victorious. And I’d hate to see one stand and the other down in a pool of their blood…”

Utahime hums and lets the silence take over for a few seconds. And then she speaks again, “….Maybe, if not your father, then you should be the one to bring the two together.”  

Me? “Me?”

“Yes, my Lady. You may be the princess of the greatest warrior, but you are also the dear friend of his allies. Your word means law to them — they trust your input when asked and see you as a perfect successor in line.”  

“But that’s just based on titles and old conversations that don’t hold up to the now…Out of the three of us, I was the one who stayed put in this castle while the others played dirty, severing limbs and creating craters on this sacred continent. We are not children anymore, yet I feel like the one who’s still a naive babe with hands clean.” 

“Now that is not true, my Lady!” Fierce brown eyes bore to you. “Just because you don’t have blood on your hands doesn’t make you unfit as a leader. You are the sole child of the King of the Western Empire, the land that Tengen once slept and walked on. That makes you the one next in line after your father.”

“That is my stated birthright—“

“And so!” You held your tongue; she was not done yet. “You have proven that birthright true from what you’ve done so far. I can count on my hands and toes all the times your father came to you for advice on a matter that didn’t sit right with him, knowing that your wisdom and compassion aid your judgment. And let’s not forget how you’ve kept a neutral stance on this issue thus far, knowing it’s the best and safest option for your father and his people. You are his child, after all…What I’m saying is that people change. And that goes the same for you; you’ve become a face I can trust and depend on, and I’m glad to have the right to watch over you until you see fit.” 

You knew she meant every word, so you kept silent for her to finish.

“So, I say this with all the genuineness in my heart. I believe you can smack some sense up those two’s minds. You are the princess, but you are a friend above all else. Lord Gojo had just arrived today, leaving Lord Ryomen on his way in three days' time. Express to them how you feel, that you wish for nothing but an end to this bloodshed and to restore whatever’s left to rebuild their past alliance.”

There was nothing wrong with her words; everything was well-spoken with a perspicuous style and valid points. She was your closest friend – no one knew you better than she did. So, there’s no reason to try and find whatever flawed construct that was in her argument. 

Finally, after she was done dapping your arm with the washcloth and drying your feet after taking them out of the metal basin, you smiled. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right; I’m your best friend!” Utahime stands with a puffed chest filled with pride, picking up the basin by the handles. “And as the right one, I reckon you should turn in for the night. Leave this matter for tomorrow so the solution you’re looking for will be easier to find.”

“Mmm, your advice is well-received like always.” You stand from the chair, stretching your limbs. When she approaches your door, you bid your handmaiden farewell for the night, “See you in the morning, Utahime.” 

With a wink, she parts before shutting the door, “Sleep well and tight, my Lady.”

The warm presence of your friend is missed now that you’re alone in your room. The candles around your chambers exhibit a warm glow that should make you feel safe, but that wasn’t the case today. Even after your night routine, the cold still resided in your skin. You sigh again through your nostrils; the invisible weight on your shoulders makes it impossible to lift them.

You turn back to your mirror – your reflection brings up the conversation with your best friend minutes ago. Examining your features, placing your hand on your cheek to sense your skin, alone with your thoughts. Did I really change that much? Your face tilts to the side, but the different angle doesn’t seem to help give a proper answer. Hmm…Perhaps it’s something I’m not supposed to see. 

With a yawn, you stand straight again, deciding to take up Utahime’s advice and retire for the night. You face your queen-sized bed, anticipating your figure sinking into the soft, comfortable mattress. 

What you didn’t anticipate was releasing a big gasp when turning to your bedding, your body going rigid, and your blood stopping circulation. 

“Hey.”

Something was sitting on your bed. No, someone was on your bed. And judging by the deep, guttural timbre of their voice, you are familiar with this person. 

You turned to your left once you heard a word. A figure was coming into the lighted room from the dark of the balcony – a giant, no, ginormous figure. Based on the height, he was inches from touching the entrance frame, way taller than any royal you’ve ever met — or, at least, any human royal you’ve ever seen.  

The body was broad and could engulf you even from ten steps away. Four burly arms protrude from the torso, and black nails that resemble claws match the black tattoos painted on his shoulders, biceps and triceps, wrists, back, and chest. The markings also reside on the right of his face that’s morphed with another, which holds four red eyes instead of two, along with earrings that stretch his big earlobes. Aside from his bloody orbs, one thing that contrasts his appearance is the rusty salmon color of his hair. And that was the first thing you saw — the first thing that had your mind recollect him.

“Lord Ryomen.” His name didn’t feel proper to say. It’s been almost a year since you last saw him, but he was still the same brutal man you’ve heard about all this time…yet a companion of yours nonetheless. “Father told me you would be here in two days. How did you—“

“You know I’m not one to wait.” He crossed his lower arms, the upper ones covered by a black robe that matched the black hakama pants he wore. “Especially when it comes to visiting this place.”

“And of Uraume?” The mention of the demon king’s trusted adviser quirks his brow. “Is it okay to leave them alone without you to watch over?”

“You think I’m weak on my own?”

“N–No, of course not!” You were quick to refute — you had to be when it came to him. “It’s just that I would feel bad; they’d worry about where you are.”

“And here you are worrying about them worrying about me. Hmph, humans,” he scoffs, and the mouth on his stomach grins. “Uraume knows to look after the ship when I’m gone or be my eyes when I’m not around. I’m not a child that needs protecting.”

You bow to him. “Of course you aren’t, my Lord. Forgive me for having you think as such.”

He hums, tilting his head while examining you. “Good. Lift your head.” You do as you’re told, watching him take a few steps closer to you. “It’s cold; why is your fire not set?”

You look at what he’s referring to, seeing that your fireplace harbored no flame. “I told my maids that I would be fine tonight without it, the heavy blankets will do—“

Your eyes travel back to Sukuna, only to see he isn’t where he stood. He vanished, nowhere in your room to be found. You turned behind, but he wasn’t there either. But once you heard heavy feet thunder on your floor again, you spun around to see the beast carrying four logs, one in each hand. You were marveled; you only heard talk of his speed, now it was a little scary seeing the real deal.

Sukuna bends down in front of your fireplace, setting the logs down perfectly. “Ignoring the cold’s existence is an ignorant game. A princess should be warm during this time of night.” Once the logs are set, he makes a sign with his upper right hand, bringing his thumb and forefinger together to his mouth. He blows, and a string of fire spits out to the logs. The sound of crackling bark from the flames confirms his work. “You are not me; you should fear the cold.”

You nod to his lesson. “Thank you, Lord Ryomen.” 

“There’s no one here. You have the right to refer to me by my first name.” Sukuna straightens himself up. The light from the fire has his face aglow, and the crimson in his eyes flicker while they hook onto you.

You don’t know why — maybe it was because of the instant heat touching your neck instead of the sudden allurement you’ve noted from the demon king. Regardless, you avert your gaze downward. “Yes, Lord Sukuna.”

“Hmm.” He croons, walking towards you to prompt your chin up with a hand. Your eyes widen at his action; this is the first time in forever since he’s laid a hand on you. Talks of those he touches die shortly after spark in your mind. “You still have the sword.”

It wasn’t a question – an observation. He noticed the weapon lodged above the fireplace, like a memento meant to be honored rather than used. You smile, “Yes, I make sure it’s nice and clean from dust.” 

Sukuna scoffs. “I give you a present, and you treat it like a trophy.” 

“It would be wise to treat a gift from the demon king like a treasure. It wouldn’t sit right with me knowing I used or damaged a present given to me by someone I care about.” 

He tilted his head again. “And when I give a weapon to someone I wish to protect,” The word caught you off guard. Protect? “I expect them to use it as it’s intended. I will allow it this time, but I won’t be too forgiving the second. Understood?”

You heard him, but your mind was still wrapped around the word. Protect? Lord Sukuna wants to protect me? What for?? You didn’t mean to say it aloud; it just slipped. “Protect?”

His mood shifts into neutral. A subtle softness is displayed in that inhuman structure of a face — or maybe you imagined it because of the late hour. Your breath hitches when you feel his lower hands pull and wrap around your right hand; the way your palm dwarfs in his hold is appalling. And then he kneels. Sukuna, the eight-foot-tall demon king, kneeling before you. This was a bizarre night, candidly. 

“Princess,” he starts with your name. It was the perfect method as he fully has your undivided attention. “You know why the King has wished to see me despite what’s occurring outside these chambers. He believes there is still room to talk, and I believe he's wasting his time because I'm close to setting the entire Northern front ablaze and nailing this score for good.” 

You knew he meant that, and it scared you because if he really could, he would. He actually possesses the mentality and the drive to do it. And yet, all three parts of the continent continue to stand. Why?

“But that would result in more problems for me. I’d have the entire world after my head for terrorism. All the leaders will not rest until I’m gone — your father would have to come put me down. And I would kill him, all of them.” His eyes were on you, dead serious. “…But that would make you upset, and it pisses me off that you'd hate me for my drive for survival.” 

“My Lord,” it was your turn to speak. “I wouldn’t hate you. Being upset would be justified. But when it comes to war, survival is the paramount destination. I only wish to avoid such significant losses – both for the people of our nations and the people I hold dear.” 

“Mmm.” He took your words. There’s no need to say anything, knowing Sukuna heard your piece is good enough. “I can see where you stand in this, stubborn and naive like your father. So, I come to you with a proposition. Something I need for you to listen before I consider seizing this battle.”

The way he spoke had you on edge, truthfully. Yet, if he’s coming to you in the middle of the night to hear your piece, who are you as a friend to push him aside? You give him a nod, “Yes, my Lord?” 

“Princess, I want to—“ he stops mid-sentence, his pink-slitted brow suddenly drew up before it furrowed at the next second. He lets go of your hand in a hurry, standing up in a flash. It had you squeak. “He’s here.”

The sudden change in tone had you blink up at the giant, startled. “Wh–Who?”

“….No, they will not be seeing you. The hour is late; they are heading for bed!”

“Oh, c’mon Utahime �� an hour, give me one hour!”

“Don’t you DARE open that door—HEY!” 

You and Sukuna’s eyes dart to your chamber door, which opens with an abrupt vigor as if it was kicked open — it was kicked. The foot that was prominent at the front goes down and swings in a figure that brightens the area. Baggy white paints contrast with a black dress shirt mixed with white, intricate, and alluring designs. Subtle blue patterns map around the black collar and cuffs, dancing down the white material behind gold buttons. It’s covered by an ocean-blue shawl that drapes the figure’s left side. But the most significant detail that gave away who the person was – outside of their voice alone – was the snow-shite hair that decorated the top of his head. 

Your wide eyes take in the person before you, and a dainty smile comes to your lips when you say his name. Unlike Sukuna, who sucks his teeth with a deep scowl. “Lord Gojo, it’s—“

“PRINCESS~~!” Chipper as ever, Gojo greets you with a happy tune that is so familiar to the ears. His sky-blue eyes gleam and narrow whenever he’s in your presence, just like he’d do during your childhood years. “Glad to see that I’ll be able to see your beautiful face tonight, after all. And I thought I told you to call me by my first name, like when we were kids!”

His jest has you giggle, “And I thought I’d told you from the last visit to knock on my door before entering. You have my poor handmaiden chasing after you at this hour.” 

“I second that notion wholeheartedly, my Lady.” Utahime comes into view, approaching from Gojo’s shadow. If looks could kill, she’d stab Gojo’s throat with dual-wielding daggers. Not that the white-haired man was paying her glare any mind. She sighs heavily before bowing to you, “My apologies, my Lady. Lord Gojo caught me leaving the stairs towards your hall, figuring he’d come to speak a word with—Holy Tengen!” Your lady-in-waiting gasps when she lifts her head to see that you aren’t alone in the first place. “L-Lord Ryomen!? F-F-Forgive me for not noticing your grace before.” She quickly returns her head for a bow, hoping the trusty, short right-hand retainer and advisor, Uraume, wasn’t here to lecture her. 

But thankfully to her anxious stars, the demon king grunts, “You’ve been forgiven, human. I came here not too long ago to discuss matters with the heir.” His red eyes leave the bowing woman to look at Gojo, whose lighthearted cadence is stilled. “Alone.” The final word was all for the white-haired lord’s watch to switch to a silent, menacing tone, shaded by his bangs but perfectly seen by Sukuna. 

“Yes, my Lord, I shall leave you two to yourselves then,” Utahime replies to the salmon-haired creature, lifting her upper body ready for dismissal. But she then grabs for Gojo’s arm and tugs. “That includes you as well, Lord Gojo.” 

“Ehhhh, me? What about the giant freak across from me?” Gojo questions the woman who pulls him to the doorway. “I also have things to discuss with the princess I’ve expressed earlier for when I have the time, which is now. At least I made my appointment known. Unlike him, who came into their quarters unannounced.” 

“And here you are, barging into their room!” she almost popped a vein; you worry for the poor woman dragging the tall figure out of your room. “Kicking their door and making yourself known doesn’t modify the definition of being unannounced. Come back tomorrow – I’m sure my Lady will be available to listen to your quarrels then.” 

It was now that you finally decided to interject. “It’s all right, Utahime. Sleep still evades me for me to rest.” You look to Sukuna, his gaze already on your figure, and then to Gojo, who awaits your assertion. “…I will listen to both Lords and have them dismissed before I retire for the night. You may let Lord Gojo go now and get sleep yourself.” 

Utahime gives you a concerned look, yet she silently lets go of the man when you give her a tiny nod. “As you wish. Have a good night, my princess. Lord Sukuna. Gojo.” She slams the door at the last name she says, her stomping footsteps and grumbling curses fading into the night. 

And now here you were, alone in your room, with the two lords of two superpower empires – two childhood friends. Nevertheless, it’s back. The suffocating tension you’ve mentioned before returns and drapes over the three of you that the word “friend” feels teeny within it. You can’t lie to yourself; you’re weary to have either of them in your chambers, let alone be in the same space as you. You knew there would be a day when the two would come together; however, you were far from being prepared for said event. 

Then again, it’s better now than never, right? You three used to be the best of friends – close companions that you could depend on and trust. Close companions that you desperately wish to continue trusting and having an unbreakable bond with. If not for you, then for your father’s and respective empires’ sake. So, with a deep breath, you exhale and think of how to go about this predicament. Be the heir that your father raised you to be.

“So,” You turn to Gojo to start with. “Lord Gojo—“

“Oh, c’mooon, what did I say about using my last name?” Gojo flashes a quick smile at you. “We’re friends, no? It’s not fair you refer to Maiden Iori by her first name; you should know mine like the back of your hand!”

His little pester does help swade a bit of stress off your shoulders. “My apologies, Satoru. It’s just that I must be respectful to my royals, even if we are long-time friends.”

The white-haired man chuckles, taking steps to be closer to you. “Even so, I want my princess to call me by my name, for you are the one I trust and hold dear the most. And I don’t want our familiarity to be tarnished by titles.” 

“…If that’s what will make you happy, Satoru.” The address to the northern prince made you avert your gaze to the ground, and your cheeks dial in warmth. Who knew that he thought so deeply about a little gesture? And then there’s what he referred to you as—

“Your princess?” Sukuna’s voice snaps you back to the present situation: you and Gojo are not the only ones in your room.  

Gojo takes his eyes off you and places them on the giant behind your shape. He taunts, “Yes, my princess, as they are the fair heir of this great empire who will rule after their great father. I’d say they are as much my princess to me as the other Lords and Maidens. But I’d be lying since I see them as more than that.”

Sukuna’s quadruple eyes darken as they narrow at the man before him. “Every time I see your scrawny self, you prove you’re the biggest fool than all the other senile jokes of Lords I’ve ever dealt with.” Two steps is all he takes to be right behind you. You can practically feel his shadow on you. “The person before us is indeed a royal above many – above you. So, I find it amusing that you would be dumb enough to emphasize such a ludicrous claim. You fail to know your place when in their presence. And in mine.”

Oh, that ticked something inside Gojo. Because the prince was no longer smiling, his attention was wholly on Sukuna. Many wouldn’t dare to glower at the giant creature the way Gojo was — let alone look at him. “Hah, you sure know how to make unfunny jokes, Sukuna. Because I’d rather eat demon shit than have you think for a moment that you are above me.”

“Hmph, I’m surprised your childish behavior has gotten you this far,” you can see from the shadow on the floor that Sukuna folds his lower arms. “Don’t think that you’ll be lucky with me.”

“Oh, believe me, my childish manner has gotten its fair share of tongue lashings and trouble, but I’ve been able to talk my ass out of shit ever since I was a kid. But I guess talk is too cheap for an oversized brute like you, huh?”

“Very. I’m a being of action—“

“Action? Or destruction?” The light blue of Gojo’s eyes shifts to that of a deep, cold shade under his bangs, with no sign of backing down. “Because from all I’ve heard about you, everything can crumble beneath you with just a swipe of the fingers. Outside of your lands, who’s to say you’re worthy of ruling when your methods and policy are more forbidding than mine? Or better yet, who gave you the gall to think that such a monster like you has a right to even be amongst civil people like me and the princess? Hell, the fact that you snuck in their room as you please sickens me to the core.”

“I can say the same for you, Satoru Gojo. Your entire occupancy does worse than bore me. Standing here with the man governing the family who’s killed many of my kin and demons fills me with inextinguishable anger. You have no idea how much excitement I’ll have for the day I cut that head of yours clean off, but because of my business with the princess, your death will be pending.” 

“Not if my business is taken care of first.”

The demon growls. “Like hell, it will.” 

“My Lords, please!”

The tense atmosphere is relieved by the abruption of your voice, bringing the lords’ quarrel to a standstill to face you. You squeak when their eyes land on you, forcing yourself to turn to the fireplace and deal with the growing storm of anxiousness inside you. 

Gods, I should’ve had Utahime here with me! You curse yourself for being in this situation. Why tonight of all nights must you deal with this? It was as if your lady-in-waiting had this all planned — or worse, your father, having you treat the matter of your allies. You groan internally to your hands, letting your frustration be released.

You twirl back to face the two men before you, a deep inhale before saying, “Lord Satoru, what would you like to discuss with me at this hour?”

“Hah?” The disapproving mood of the demon king had your heart sink to the floor. “I was here first.”

“Yes, you came to my room first tonight. But Gojo was here first at the palace. He told me earlier that he wanted to speak, so I should hear him.” You could only hope your reasoning satisfied the tall being, who puffs his tattooed chest. And Gojo quickly flashed the other a vexatious look at Sukuna before you pivoted to him. “Now, Lord Go—“

“Aht aht!”

“…Lord Satoru,” He beams a big grin. “What do you wish to speak with me?”

“Well, although this is something meant for the two of us,” meant to be a stab to the other person in the room, who couldn’t care less about his presence being unwanted. “But this’ll suffice; it doesn’t hurt to have an audience.” You watch the silver-haired man take your left hand, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing on your knuckles. 

“My Lady,” he looks at you with delicate azure eyes, his gaze so captivating that it locks you in position. “I’ve known you for quite a long time. Before I met you, my life as a royal was barren. Nothing sparked joy in me. The mundane tasks to uphold as the next heir, being pampered and sheltered as the gifted member of the Gojo House. I felt trapped in a mold — a mold that I resented having as my birthright, so much so that I wished to claw my eyes out at the age of five.” 

You could tell he was speaking from the heart, his hands gripping yours tighter.

“But then, three years later, my father took me to meet the King of the western lands; at the time, it sounded like such a chore having to meet all these old, disgusting guys that I had to ‘maintain a good relationship’ with. And then, like the sun peeking through dark clouds, I saw you. I’ve met many royal kids before me, most snobby or kissing up to me for my good graces. Yet, none of them have been as alluring and breathtaking as you have been.” He pauses for a light chuckle. “I can still remember how your sweet voice addressed me when our fathers introduced us together. You stood tight to his leg, but your grace was ever present.”

“Mhmm, and I recall how angry your father was when you didn’t take a knee and instead greeted me with a handshake.” The two of you share a laugh, unaware of the disdained aura of Sukuna right next to you for a moment. “There are many things I hold close to my heart — you and our friendship being part of them.”

“I agree. I mean it when I regard you as one of my greatest treasures. This friendship we’ve had these years – decades, even – has been a blessing that I do not want to take for granted. Even with this war on my shoulders, I wish for it to be put to rest so I can finally have you by my side again. And that’s why…” 

Gojo lifts your hand to his face; the soft feeling of his pillowy lips on your fingers has you holding your breath. Just like Sukuna…

“Princess, merciful child of Tengen’s Blessed Ground, I ask for your hand in marriage.” 

It all took one second — one mere second. 

One second for your world to come to a complete standstill, the cracking of the firewood no longer poking your eardrums and the breeze from the outside no longer grazing your skin. Your body instinctively refuses to move so much as a toe to disrupt your processing.

One second for your thoughts to absolutely vanish. No words of your own occupying your brain, no guesses on where this conversation was going. There was nothing. Nothing except the last seven words Gojo said that replay in your head. Over and over and over again.

One second for you to be in a perfect state of perplexity. Right before Sukuna grabs your free hand and yanks you to his side the next. Three giant hands wrap around you while one grips your wrist tightly. 

He snarls, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Gojo sucks his teeth before straightening yourself. “Ehhhh, is your demon brain screwed on right? You don’t know what a marriage proposal is?” His question struck you more than it did the beast. Huh? A marriage proposal? Marriage!?

The fingers of Sukuna’s upper left-hand grips your shoulder, claw-like nails poking your skin as if to draw blood. “Hmph, the nerve of you humans never fails to disappoint me. Especially you, Satoru Gojo, who remains a thorn in my foot. Must I kill more of your men to keep you at your place as you did to my demonfolk?”

“Khh, don’t act like you ever cared about the lives sacrificed on your behalf. It’s gross.” Gojo takes one step, and Sukuna swiftly lifts his upper right hand at him, his fingers positioned at the same sign when he made flames for your fireplace. Your eyes widen, please, not in my room! Gojo takes a stance for battle. “Acting human doesn’t suit you at all, fuckface.” 

The roar of laughter that the demon bellows out was chilling to hear. The vibrations coursing from his body to yours rocked you to your core. “Hah! Me, human!? There’s a reason I let go of that part of myself a long time ago. It made me weak – held me back from my full potential. You are right, though; it’s beneath me to care for those below me. However, I don’t tolerate those that mess with what’s mine.” 

The word had Gojo’s eyes taper. “Let them go.”

“No. If anything, I should skin you here and now for even laying a finger on them in front of me.” You peered up at Sukuna, your anxiousness refusing to settle down during this high-stakes scenario. “Because any man that dares touch my wedded deserves to be torn and shredded by my hands alone.” 

You couldn’t hide your gasp. It snuck past you – the perfect reaction to what you heard. H–His wedded? Me? Lord Sukuna’s wedded-to-be!? No wonder he was acting like that…!

“Your wedded?” Gojo was just as taken aback as you were. “You’ve got some huge balls to declare that right after bearing witness to me proclaiming my request for their hand.” 

“Tch, bastard, why do you think I was here before you?” Sukuna flashes his big teeth, pride exuding from his form. “Did you honestly think I’d allow the princess to end up with the likes of you? Now, aren’t you too old for fairy tales?” You’re still in shock of this madness. Two marriage proposals within the same hour? Both from your childhood friends who unequivocally despise each other’s existence? Any regular person would feel as if they’re experiencing a whirlwind right now. 

Wait a minute…

“Oh, we’re talking fairy tales, you repugnant jackass.” It’s Gojo’s turn to get a kick out of this. “From what I can tell, the princess is meant to spend the rest of their life in comfort with a handsome human prince who swears to protect them and those they care for. Not a creature whose source of joy comes from killing and mayhem. You? Capable of love? Heh, be real. Not even your own dead mother was able to show you real love for her abomination of a—“

He stopped talking when he felt something warm roll down his cheek, a red fluid streaking to drop from his chin. You see a cut and blood, and a wave of dread hits you like a wall. It was Sukuna’s doing, no doubt. Your best friends were fighting in front of you, in your safe space. Your nerves have long forgotten what it meant to be in a state of calm. 

Please, wait, stop—

“I already told you your death has been postponed, you northern shit,” red eyes darken, Sukuna's tone and aura unveiling a sense of brutality that shadowed your very being. It had you trembling. “But I don’t mind severing your tongue to make a point.”

The skin around the cut on Gojo’s skin begins to morph to find each other, seaming itself back to mint condition with a blue glow. Healing magic fixed his cut and cleared his blood, but the anger boiling inside him was prevalent in those striking eyes. Wanting nothing more than a bleeding head between his hands. “I’d like to see you try, you ugly prune.” 

NO, STOP IT!!

This was all too much for a single night. This whole ordeal was far from your expectations. It was already stressful enough thinking about what would happen when the two lords were in this palace together. Now, in your quarters, you’ve never experienced a more life-and-death crisis having your friends — companions you used to laugh and engage with together — wanting to rip each other’s throats, especially for your hand in marriage. And, Tengen forbid, if you were to accept one’s proposal over the other…that would ignite a war above all wars. The bodies that fall on this mainland would all be in your undoing. The thought enough was too much to bear! 

“I accept both!!”

The hostile complexion of the room vanished into the air in the blink of an eye. The sound of burning logs and dancing flames filled the space like before; the crashing ocean waves could be heard from your balcony. Nature was speaking without noises to interrupt it. It was quiet, too quiet. 

You didn’t know what you just said until the last morphemes left your tongue. You silently remove your figure from Sukuna, covering your mouth in disbelief. And without having to see for yourself, you could tell that the two lords were just as flummoxed from your sudden sentence. What…What did I say just now?

“What did you just say?” As if he could read your mind, Sukuna relays your inner turmoil to be addressed. 

Your heart was beating at an unbearable rate, your ears ringing like they’d soon set off and bleed. The trembles get worse with every second, and wiping your face off this Earth at this exact moment is all you wish for. You were so nervous that you were mere seconds away from the brink of tears. Oh, Tengen, why did I say that? What was I thinking?!? What am I to do? What do I—

“…Express to them how you feel, that you wish for nothing but an end to this bloodshed and to restore whatever’s left to rebuild their past alliance…” 

And then, like a strange flash of an angelic tune, the words of your lady-in-waiting come back to you, instantly calming you down and reminding you who you are. You are the princess of the Western Front, the next heir after your father. This matter was bound to fall onto your lap one way or another — preferably less drastically and excitingly like this.

I am the princess, but their friend above all else…You remove your hands from your face, exhaling a shaky breath before standing tall. “….I accept both marriage proposals of my Lords.”

The men’s bewildered expressions were expected, just like the dismay in their voices. “Both of our—…! Surely you don’t mean that—” Gojo was the first to speak, silver brows screwed with confusion. 

“I do.” A deep breath before you answered him. “I will only accept the proposals of both you and Lord Sukuna.”

The demon took one thunderous step, the vibrations crawling up your bones. “And just why is that?”

You exhale through your nostrils, chewing on your bottom lip. “Understand that I am humbly flattered by your perspectives — it fills me with gladness to know I can be hospitable to my dear friends again…As you both mentioned, I, too, cherish the two of you profoundly, and my trust for you two will never be extinguished. To be asked for my hand by either of you is an honor I’ll forever appreciate….But I cannot choose one over the other.”

“Bullshit,” Sukuna folds his upper arms, the lower resting on his hips. “You can; you just choose not to.”

“No, I care for you both, and choosing one alone would have people hurt. Both between us three and the people of this continent…” You maintain eye contact with both lords while your hands fidget with your nightgown to ease yourself. “A rivalry is happening between the Eastern and Northern fronts; blood’s already been spilled and soaking Tengen’s soil. If I were to choose one proposal, I can’t be guaranteed that this onslaught of violence will cease. Or, would either of you guarantee that you wouldn’t take the life of the other?”

That question had the two royals look at each other briefly, followed by their scowls and groans. Gojo is the next to speak, “What happens between us shouldn’t concern you, my princess.”

“You’re wrong; it concerns me tremendously. It is a concern that’s been eating me alive, watching my allies – my friends – fight each other on the sidelines, refusing to pick a side with my father. Now, you two come here, bend your knees, hold my hands, and ask for my hand, silently requesting my involvement for more bodies to drop like flies under my reign?… No, I would not find rest from this night forward, knowing that more innocent lives plummet from my answer.”

“It wouldn’t be blood on your hands.”

“…But it would be blood that I paint with my very shadow.”

The response sounded foreign to him, yet you stood tall, making sure your heart didn’t falter with your stance. Silence welcomes the three figures again, an old friend that goes well with the tense atmosphere. Two pairs of red observe you, like cerulean orbs that stay on your appearance.

A few seconds go by, and Gojo screws his eyes shut. “So, that’s it, you accept both proposals.”

A curt nod. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Your final decision?”

“Correct.”

The snow-haired man nodded aimlessly, slouched with a large sigh, turned, and headed for your bed to flop face down — like it was his bed. “Haaaaaah, you are your father’s kid, all right,” you could make out his words even with his face in your sheets. “A pacifist heart.”

“Hmph, such a dumbass reason,” Sukuna huffs with absolute annoyance, and you’re amazed he hasn’t already skinned you and Gojo. “You are not a child anymore. You can’t possibly be serious about taking up two husbands for the sake of peace.”

“You’re right: I am no child, for I’ve never been as serious as I am now.” Look at you, sticking up for yourself in the presence of the demon king. Although, you know he can hear the quiver in your voice trying to crawl out. You swallow, “It’s either both of you or nothing at all.”

His left eyes squint as they examine your features, the mouth on his belly gritting its teeth. “Tsk, both or nothing…Meanwhile, you know I can’t be in the same room with him. Not even Tengen could command me to share you with this brat.”

Gojo swifts on the covers to lie on his back. “Finally, something I can agree with the devil himself. He’s right, though; there are many things in my life I would rather not share with anyone — you being the top of my list.”

You take their concerns with patience and a lifted chin. “I understand you both, but if you two can’t let the fog clear and talk with each other, how can I see myself—“

“Let the fog clear?” Sukuna repeats with furrowed eyebrows. “Sorcerers came into my land and ransacked my villages — sorcerers from this bastard’s empire!” 

“An action that validates your anger and course of action,” you remind yourself to take tiny breaths. “…However, Satoru didn’t order the attack himself; they went against procedure and stormed your country with poor judgment.”

The tall demon rolls all of his eyes and clicks his teeth. “Ridiculous.”

“No, what’s ‘ridiculous’ is how you fail to acknowledge why those sorcerers went to your zone.” Gojo’s turn to interpolate. “One of the noble sorcerers and his company died because of your demon folk invading my country without permitted passage. That noble had a family, students that followed his footsteps—“

“Are you saying my people didn’t have kin of their own to return to, Gojo Satoru?”

“Your people sure kill like they don’t—“ Another swipe of Sukuna’s fingers glid the air; this time, Gojo’s Infinity was on guard, ricocheting the cleave to mark a scratch on one of the curtains. “Hah, just like their leader.”

Sukuna flexes his knuckles to crack, black fingernails appearing sharper. “The demons who killed that sorcerer acted on their own accord. Just like the many men of your land who came to mine, whom I corrected for your lack of oversight.”

“Then allow me to fulfill my mistake,” the silver-haired man’s eyes glow. “And let me kill the demons responsible — just like you did to my men, fucking cretin.”

“Over my dead body, human trash.”

“My Lords!” The men concurrently exchange their gazes back to you. “This is why I will not be accepting either proposal solely. You come to my home to ask for my hand because you see me as of value, correct? Well, you both are people I care deeply for, and the thought of walking beside either of you for eternity is something I’d accept unmistakably under different circumstances…But, please acknowledge my position in all of this: I am the princess of an extraordinary continent and heir to the throne after my father, a man who has maintained peace and harmony all these years. Now, that peace is hanging on the brink of death and will soon be a matter I should issue alone, and the men who’ve grown with me and cherish me combating each other until one stands tall….or none stand at all.”

Word spilled after another as if a dam had broken down — fingers jitter even when clasped together. Your throat dries up after every sentence, yet your unwavering resilience pushes you to keep going.

“I’m sorry if what I’m saying or doing is selfish, and…you may be right that I’m going at it with the whims of a child. But, please,” Do not cry, do NOT cry. “Standing idly every passing day watching the men I’ve grown to—“ Love? Isn’t that too intimate of a word to assume? “…treasure kill themselves and others without doing anything wounds me enough. And if you think I can sit here in this palace and watch my intended go far and yonder to kill another person whom I cherish with no guarantee that they will return to me wholly, think twice.”

Your shoulders threaten to tremble; of course, you’re frightened beyond belief by what you’re saying. But you’re sure if she was here, Utahime would pull you in for a hug and acclaim how well you’re following her counsel.

“Please, I just…can’t bear it.”

Uncomfortable muteness gnaws you alive within the muteness of your room. You’re bound to draw blood on your bottom lip with how much you’re chewing it. If only your father were awake in this hour, his guidance at a moment like this would be beneficial, or merely observing from afar how you’re managing would give you some hope. Alas, you know he’s in deep sleep halls away. It’s just the three of you in this space — or just you versus the huge opposing auras thick enough to be slit by Sukuna’s cleaves. 

Speaking of whom, the demon king watches you the entire speech. Same with Gojo, whose blue eyes dwindle back to their typical hue. The two men don’t dare break the silence as you stand before them, mentally swimming in thoughts alone to yourself….Well, at least the northern prince wouldn’t dare to do so first because Sukuna initially ripped the stillness to shreds. He says, “And how would your father respond to this feckless plan of accepting two marriage proposals?”

A worthy question to ponder. “…I’m sure he’d come to an understanding once I explain my reasoning,” the belly of the eastern king grumbles. “I’m sure he’d be contended at the fact that his two trusted allies would want to join houses.”

Gojo sits up straight atop your bed. “Well, that sounds all nice and dandy on that front. But, the problem still lies in us acting like…a ‘real couple.’ Face it, princess; you may seem okay with being with us both, but that doesn’t mean we’d be on the same page.”

Sukuna nods curtly. “I’d rather eat every human alive than entertain the thought of someone other than me touching you.” 

The other shrugs. “Even if the world’s fate depends on it.”

The men’s grievances are valid arguments for why your plan can backfire, particularly when suggesting a relationship where two people can’t stand each other. What you’re posing is an action that has been practiced before yet isn’t entirely favored in the public eye. Nevertheless, your stance doesn’t change; you refuse to go back on your word, believing that it’s a better alternative to condone than the others. The only tricky part is convincing your childhood friends…

…Which is why what you’re about to do is indubitably unlike you. 

“…What are you doing?"

But despite that, it’s a course of action that highlights your determination.

“—Woah!! Princess?! Why are you undressing??!”

Even if it’ll go down as the most downright humiliating thing you’ve done to yourself.

Your nightgown meets the ground of your feet, the cool air wrapping your nude frame with the heat of the fireplace hovering on one side. Arms free of sleeves, nipples easily spotted now with the dismissal of clothing, the region between your lower thighs bare, and delicate skin exposed for only the men in the room to see. And even then, your face doesn’t decline the miserable hotness. Embarrassed? No doubt about it.

“My Lords,” you croak, balled fists muster to contain whatever left of dignity you can. “This form…isn’t meant for any regular eyes to see — an offering only a slim few I’d trust to witness. Tonight, I want you two to see me like this.” You slowly step forward, gradually getting closer to Sukuna’s giant size. “As your princess, I offer my whole to you both, as you are mine…and I am yours.”

Sukuna blinks at your small figure close to his; the intensity of his stare is enough to have your heart sink into a pool of regret. Until he bends to scoop you with his lower arms, you yelp at the sudden action with hands finding his sturdy shoulders to grab. Now, he is way closer than you anticipated, his very chin inches away from brushing your naked chest. Holy shit.

“You are mine, and I am yours?” he lifts his eyebrow. “Was that not true already?” You gulp thickly before answering, daring to cup his cheek with a hesitant hand. Again, you’re surprised to see it still attached, let alone see him lean to your palm. 

“You’d have to prove it true — here and now, make this ceaseless battle end by claiming me as yours…You too, Gojo.” You and the demon holding you turn to the man sitting on your bed. The pale skin of his face now harbors shades of pink that cascade across his cheeks and the dip of his ears, expression dumbfounded to what he witnessed. “Demonstrate how serious you are for my hand, or you and Sukuna can leave my room.”

Sky-blue eyes blink absentmindedly, words hard to pick and choose for the human prince in this bizarre minute. Sukuna then speaks with a huff.

“Well, are you going to start moving or what? Because whether you stay or not, your princess will become mine tonight.” He grins before leaning in to lick your skin, and you hold a whine when the mouth of his navel lightly chews on your tummy. “And on the many nights coming after.”

The beast’s words flip a switch, causing Gojo to chuckle and shake his head while unbuttoning his shirt. “Not if I have something to do about it, four-eyes…”

You drew in breath while watching Gojo undress, more of his milky skin stripped out of his clothing, revealing parts of the prince that you could only imagine in your fantasies. Heat flourishes to your ears, and another gasp is pulled out when Sukuna sneaks his free lower hand to cusp your buttcheek. He then brings an upper hand to your chin to face him and his sneer. 

“You’ve made this night a whole lot more interesting.”

And that was the last time the sound of the fire cracking caught your attention.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Mmmm…Ahh—Ahhh!!”

“Keh, sure are tight as hell; definitely a virgin.”

“Fuck, I can hear the sounds from here…Oh, fuuck…!”

The sea breeze climbs up to your terrace, crawling into your room to swing the curtains of your canopy. The candles around your room continue to flame and provide light for the room to glow. The scent of lavender and rose from your bath and lotion an hour earlier remains in the air and sticks to your skin. The midnight hour isn’t yet, but the sky is dark enough past the twilight hues. 

Expected as the former home of the Great Saint Tengen, the palace is as enormous. Harboring many rooms, halls, and floors for the company of the royal family and their subjects, the castle is unchallenging for a newcomer to get lost inside without a proper guide. Every room is catered to a specific event, person, meeting, or occasion in this place. On top of that, multiple guest chambers are meant for the guests invited under the King’s audience to rest.

…But it seems that Gojo and Sukuna are not retiring for the night anytime soon.

How could they sleep when you’re being a courteous host, letting your childhood friends spend the late hours in your room? Just like when you were young and playmates or learning to master a weapon. The only thing is that these two aren’t the same as two decades ago; they are men, branded with titles and responsibilities, blood already stained their knuckles, and duties hold them to a high expectation that you know all too well. 

And, like all men, they have a salacious curiosity only appropriate for the bedroom. An interest you knew would one day be prevalent in your life if you agreed to take either as a husband…Yet, you’re not as prepared on the chance you’d face both realities simultaneously. 

All three of you are stationed in your bed, clothes decorating your floor to leave you all bare for each other to see and marvel at — more so on your part. You lie on your back to a giant broad chest and stomach, Sukuna right behind you with his lower arms holding your feet by the back of your knees. Knees spread apart, your naked lower half is out, free for the monster to insert a single thick digit of his left upper hand into your wet chasm while the right fondles your left tit.

Never in your life did you think you were capable of producing such indecent noises. Low whimpers are embarrassing to recollect as the demon king plays with your most tender parts. His big fingers tweak your nipple, and the digit – way thicker than yours – inside your cunt is enough to stretch your opening, wiggling and scratching the inside. Fingering yourself never felt like this, your body experiencing a refreshing sensation you hadn’t known of. And to have the eastern king of all people to bestow this feeling on you brings just as much awe as humiliation.

Nonetheless, that indignity doesn’t cease. Gojo stands on his knees before you, propped between your sunder legs, while his hand strokes an erect limb. Yes, as a virgin maiden, tonight would be the very first time you ever see a living, breathing member, and the northern lord takes that honor with a lustful smile. His solid cock gets stiffer with every jerk, a left curve protruding the more your appearance excites him. To be observed and used as material as your slit is fingered? How lewd!

“Nnnn, ahaahn…” Sukuna’s finger rubs on your velvety surface, your legs wanting to squirm despite the monster’s hold. “Oh Gods…Ohhh!!”

“Damn, you look so good,” Gojo mutters under his breath, precum drizzling his fingertips. “Looks like it feels good, huh, princess?”

“Sure feels like it,” every word that Sukuna utters causes tremors to pass down his abdomen to your back, the very vibrations crawling on your skin like the tongue that licks your back to make you arch. “Hm? Tell us how you really feel, little one.”

The usage of that name causes your vaginal walls to twitch; he has never called you as such, and picking such an intimate time to do so makes your frame feel awkward and warm. “…I-I—fffmm!—don’t know…”

“Hmph, you dare lie to me,” he bends to your ear, and his deep chuckle ignites your stomach to knot itself. “Like your body doesn’t speak for itself, clenching on my finger like you want to snap it off.”

“Th-that’s not—“The graze of your upper wall cuts you off, and your hands struggle to find places to grab, gripping the skin of Sukuna’s thigh and grabbing tuffs of his apricot hair. 

The demon king snickers more when his middle finger teases your taint, pressing a kiss on your cheek before a quick bite. “Only one finger in, and you’re already wailing like a common whore; be lucky that I haven’t added another, then you’d really be prepared for me…” You feel something brush up against your back, the tips of Sukuna’s cocks reminding you of his eventual promise.

“Wooow, calling the future heir a whore; must’ve forgotten whose room we’re in.” The white-headed man had something to say about that, satisfyingly ruining the mood for the demonic being. 

“They don’t seem to mind, at least their cunt doesn’t,” uncouth cords that speak truth, your vulva squeezing his finger constantly. “Who would’ve thought the beautiful, refined, and compassionate princess,” each enunciated word has consequences that are a lick and bite to your helix. “Was, in fact, a dirty, nasty girl?”

“Holy shit,” Gojo’s hand goes faster, his dick ready with stiffness. The image of you melting under the Fallen Star’s hold is too hot for the young man to witness. “God, I wanna fuck you so bad, baby…”

Sukuna clicks his teeth. “Well, hurry the hell up and do it before I change my mind and fuck them myself.”

“And have them bleeding to death because of your giant dicks on their first time? Fuck that,” He ignores the four rolled eyes as he maneuvers closer to you, Sukuna pulling his finger out of your wet slit and slithering further down to your anus. He coaxes you to relax your tense muscles, pushing his digit into your puckered hole second by second. The gasp you release once it’s added sends shivers up Gojo’s shoulders. “A princess should be treated like a pearl – tended to with the utmost care.”

“Go–jooo…” You whine as the human heir cups your cheeks to squeeze.

“What did I say about using my family name?” He scolds with a cheeky tune, gauging your reaction as he disposes his cockhead to the folds of your vagina. 

“…S-Sa—Mmmph!” The push of his pink tip is a new sensation.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” He coos, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Relax, just focus on me.” Your eyes lock with his, distracted by the twinkle and swirl of his azure irises, like a whirlpool sinking into the darkness of his dilated pupil. “What’s my name, cutie?”

“Saaa…Sato—Ohhh!!” And just like that, the tip of his limb enters inside, bypassing your knowledge until the wince of pain snaps you out of your distraction. “…to’ruu…”

His teeth glisten under her grin. “That’s my good girl.”

Gojo keeps propelling himself inside you, gradually shoving every inch of his lengthy girth. You bite your quivering lip at the stretch of your opening, accommodating the foreign body part burrowing inside your inner channel. The left curve of his has his penis rubbing on parts of yourself you hadn’t thought possible; a graze of your G-spot causes your legs to quirk and toes to curl. 

But then, once his silverish pubes meet your outer labia, he reaches the depth of your cervix and gives it a chaste kiss. And your frame suddenly shuts down briefly, your senses running cold before you cry aloud without knowing. Your hands rush to cover your mouth, but the damage is too late.

Sukuna raises a brow. “What a shout.” He then uses your reaction to add another digit into your ass.

“Ahhhh, there it is,” Gojo swallows thickly, hips speaking for themselves as they sway. “That was cute as hell–the way you twitch feels so good…” Another poke to your cervix, and your legs can’t help but wrap around Gojo’s waist.

“Satoru, please…!” You plead with knitted eyebrows. “Pleasee, be gentle with me…”

Blue eyes narrow. “God, who told you to be so adorable?” Gojo angles down to your face, his nose mere centimeters to yours. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll treat you right tonight…Hmmm.”

The man leans in to place his lips on your forehead before his own, and the pace of his thrusts quickens to mediocrity. The rubs on your silky texture become frequent, lightly pounding his shaft into your to till his testes knock your chasm, the whimpers you try to repress boost to a louder volume. His left curve spikes up your nerves with every push and pull, easing the itching heat that permeates around your lower half. 

Hands writhe around to calm around Gojo’s cold back; you say his name in prayers. You can feel something coming, and if he keeps rutting to you like this, it’s bound to come earlier than expected. “—Nnaaa, Sat’ruuu, w-wait!! I can’t—Ahaann!!”

“—Mmmm! Yeah, just like that, princess, keep gripping on me like that…” He doesn’t listen, too lost in your warmth and wetness that he can’t stop. The flex of his abs increases, plunging into your pussylips desperately as if he can sense the eventual you fear. 

“T-Toruu, wait, go slooww!!” Words mean nothing, hips not declining in their needing cadence. Oh Gods, I can feel it; it’s coming! Nerves climb to a peak way too fast for your comprehension, nails digging into Gojo’s skin before your orgasm hits you, choked squeaks leaving puffy lips as your cunt contracts around the prince’s girth and your asshole clamping around Sukuna’s fingers.

And Gojo is right there experiencing your climax with you, moaning under his breath and pressing his forehead to yours before he completely melts under the fluttering motions of your genitalia. “—Mmfff, ffffshit, so tight…!” He can’t stop thrusting into you, moving his pelvis slowly to draw out the sensation before he sinks into a crescendo of his own. “Fuuck! Yeah, cutie, that’s right; ride it out,” he snaps an abrupt drill to your aching entrance. “Ride it out…”

Sukuna scoffs lightly before whispering in your ear. “Done already, human?” Patronizing attitude to make you fidget. “Better be ready for me still.”

“Ehhh, but I’m not done here.” The snow-haired man retorts, massaging your waist out of the quakes. 

A thread snaps in the wake of the other’s words, and Sukuna’s lack of patience drives him to push you and Gojo off of him. The two of you roughly position to where you are essentially straddling Gojo, his erection still inside your slick-coated cavern. The devilish man swiftly ends up on his knees before contorting his massive figure to dwarf both humans beneath him.

“Gahhh!! Sukuna, what the fuck w—Mmmph?!?” With the spawn of a mouth, the eastern king shuts the northern man up by slamming his upper left hand onto his mouth for an unexpected kiss. Gojo muffles under the other’s palm, the tongue shoving itself inside.

“Shut up,” Sukuna orders with annoyance. “So damn chatty…And you,” he uses his lower hands to steady your ass, and you stifle a yelp at the contact of something pressing up against the opening of your butt. “Stay still, or I can make it hurt real bad.”

His warning is enough to keep you immobile, following his instructions and stationing your breathing to a steady rhythm. Your hands-on Gojo’s chest ball to fists once Sukuna pushes his tip to your asshole, your mouth forming a permanent ‘o’ shape once he eventually gets the cockhead inside. Just when you thought this night couldn’t get any more extreme, you had forgotten about the taller individual’s well-endowed self: two hefty, girthy limbs that you NEVER, in your wildest dreams, imagine would put inside your body — not even one!

However, tonight was the night that would be put to the test, and at the very least, Sukuna compromised, using one of his members to ravage your interior while the other skims the crevice of your asscheecks. He goes excruciatingly slow; rather than just ramming the entire thing in one go, it’s better. Gods, no, you’d be shedding more tears than you already are. Every inch that’s plunged inside you pushes out shaky breaths, sobbing from the intrusion and bits of drool slowly escaping you.

“Daahhnn, ohmyG—Nnnm!!” It’s finally all in, all swallowed up by the ridge of your bottom. You call to him, “S-Sukunaa…fuull, so fuulll…”

“I bet you are.” He adds more weight, scrunching down, making it worse by caging you under his bow. Sukuna grinds his hips, which evoke sharp cries, “Hmmm, fuck, so tight…”

The salmon-haired behemoth rocks his enormous hips, the propulsion strong enough to rock you and Gojo concurrently. This time, unlike the northern man under you, Sukuna’s movements exude dominance; from his firm grip on your waist to the confident pull of his hips, everything he does is marked with a purpose. You can tell by how his big, weighty balls smack on your sexed union with Gojo.

Speaking of whom, the polar royal subsists in the kiss with Sukuna’s hand. Yet as the seconds turn to a minute, his expression morphs into a less perturbed display. Instead of fighting it, he kisses back with the palm and bucks his hips into you. The action of his cock rubbing on the sweet spots of your vagina while the one carves and churns your butthole and the other glides on your crack grinds your brain to turn into mush. Your nerves have yet to calm down from the prior orgasm, senses overloaded with constant commotion going on in your private parts.

Sukuna’s pushes become quicker and mightier, and the more he ruts, the more your clit grinds onto Gojo’s pelvis, sending shocks straight to your head. There’s no room for rest…! “—Ohhh, hooooh’Kunaaa, Kunaa, pleaseee…!”

“‘Please, please,’ please what?” He mocks you, knowing you’re powerless to reprimand him in this predicament. “Just whining and whining like a bitch in heat; have you no shame, princess?”

“Ohhh, I’m gonna—shtoooop!!” He licks your ear as you moan aloud, steamy tears striking down your hot cheeks. The pace increases, and so does the swipe of your clit and the bump of your womb. “Ohhhfuck, fuck, fuckfuuuuck…!!”

“Kehaha, look at you; the poor princess finally breaks their poised picture,” dark, pleased chuckles seep out of the demon king’s lips, biting onto your shoulder harshly to make you scream. And judging by him licking your added wound, you’re sure he drew blood. 

“Ahhsshh—ohmyGod, ohmyGod!! S’kuna, don’t!!” Desperate pleads slur out. “I’m gonna break; y’re gonna break meee…!!!”

“Good, I want you to be broken,” he sneers as his upper right arm pushes you to face him. “Break for me; think of nothing else other than being mine. Right now, your mind, body, and soul are mine to torment and tear apart. You are my little dove, small and easy to break from now till your dying breath. Am I clear, pet?”

Scared? Of course. The way his scarlet orbs bore holes into your very being had you petrified; he doesn’t need his hellish aura and brawny hands that can snap a tree in half to assimilate fear into your heart. Witnessing the true power of the King of Demons with just his stare, nothing scarier than that…And yet, your anus and chasm can’t stop squeezing like crazy.

“…Yess, my Lord,” you croak, his finger wiping the saliva on his fingertip. “I am your pet from this—nnmm!!—this moment until the…very last.”

Anxiety doesn’t diminish when he broadens a devilish smile, but it transforms into perplexity once he slams his lips onto yours—your first kiss, taken by the eastern King, along with the chastity of your rear hole. And there’s Gojo, who is the very man who has taken claim of your virginity. Two men, your childhood companions, taking your firsts! Tonight, indeed, is marked down as an eventful occasion for you. 

You sink into the passionate kiss, your tiny tongue swirling around with Sukuna’s, his fangs grazing the muscle teasingly before he nibbles on it to hear you shrill for him. All the while, his hips go erratic, motivating Gojo to increase his tempo. The feverish rhythm leaves you breathless, crying in the company of lust and rapture to the point that you’ve become numb. Your vision becomes blurry, your head foggy, and the air between you three misty. Noises of skin smacking onto each is all you hear, drowning you further into another spazz you couldn’t adequately foretell.

Gojo and Sukuna chase their climaxes together after your walls quirk and spasm uncontrollably, letting their fluids burst inside to fill your holes to the very brim. You howl in Sukuna’s mouth, who chews on your bottom lip roughly, same with Gojo’s with the palm before snatching his hand away. The snowy-headed man huffs and pants, nearly choking on spit as his midsection flexes with every jerk of his ejaculation. And the giant above you groans while rutting into your ass, not stopping until his high passes through, the free girth ejecting semen to paint across your sweaty back.

For a few seconds, it’s utterly hot and cold at the same time, your figure trembling with the acute shocks coursing through your bones. Eyes roll to the roof of your canopy, and limbs wobble and give way for you to slump after Sukuna releases you from his breathtaking kiss. Luckily, Gojo is there to catch you, the comely noble attending to you with kisses to your temple.

“Look what you did,” he spits to his left, wanting to rid his mouth of whatever remnants Sukuna left with that disgusting kiss. “You weren’t kiddin’ when you said you wanted to break them.”

“Hmph, don’t ever take me for a liar,” the demonic man stretches after withdrawing his length out of your butt, chortling at the sight of his essence sticking to you. “Oi, dove, you hear me?”

“Princess, you all right…?”

Whatever words the two were saying to you had begun to fade away despite their proximity. Your eyelids refuse to fight the urge to close, and your skin allows the cold breeze to blanket you. Everything goes black, your breathing returns to balance, and the sound of the fire cracking comes back to sing you to sleep.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“My Lady, are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“Huh?” You snap out of being zoned out for the sixth time today. Your vision is now present with the gazebo view, the ocean glistening from the morning sun in the distance, contrasting with the beautiful greenery of your garden. Many flowers of different shapes and sizes, various colors painted on top of the veins and roots separated from the yellow brick road coursing around it.  

You sit at the gazebo for your morning tea; it’s part of your morning routine after a nice bath and Utahime helping you pick what to wear for the day. Usually, when you sit here, you admire the tranquil sounds of the outside space and the sweet taste of your hot beverage.

“—Mmmm! Yeah, just like that, princess, keep gripping on me like that…”

“Stay still, or I can make it hurt real bad…Hmmm, fuck, so tight…”

Memories from last night flash one after the other, ringing your ears with nothing but the erotic noises and voices from the night before. Your cheeks dial in warmth, recollecting the senses of having both men — your childhood friends — so intimately close to you. The hotness of their breath touching your skin, the wet, teasing licks of the tongue from Sukuna’s stomach, Gojo’s slender fingers swiping and pinching your clitoris as he sucks on your nipple, and Sukuna using one of his arms to restrain your hands behind your back as he uses two others to keep your hips still to hammer your holes with his girth. 

“Princess…” the way Gojo says your name, your stomach flips to the smooth tone of his voice. His striking blue eyes survey your expression like you’re his lost treasure. His hard body meshing together with your sweaty, soft figure is a sensation you’ll probably never forget…

“Princess…” Sukuna, with his red eyes and demonic face structure, put you in a paralysis spell, and his intimidating aura suffocates you to submit to his gaze and hold. Under his bow, you felt as though you were nothing but his and his alone. And you can’t tell if that is scary or intriguing…

“…—dy Lady….MY LADY!!”

“Y–Yes!?” Your attention swerves to reality, Utahime’s face mere inches from yours. Her brown eyes filled with worrisome confusion, scanning your expression. 

“What on Tengen’s Earth is going on with you?” She says with a sigh, “Are you sick? Did you not get enough rest last night? Tsk, it must’ve been Lord Sukuna and that blue-eyed jerk. My apologies, my Lady. I hope their intrusion didn’t keep you awake for too long.” 

You shake your head to your best friend. “No need to apologize, Utahime. And it’s all right; the Lords didn’t give me too much trouble.”

She gives a nod to your response, observing you picking up your teacup and taking a sip before setting it back down gently. “Still, I find it odd that both lords wished to see you so late at night. At the same time, too…If you don’t mind me asking, my Lady, what did they wish to speak with you?”

Again, she is your best friend, so you can trust her with the information you’re about to give. “…Apparently, both Lord Sukuna and Lord Gojo wish to have my hand in marriage—“

“MARRIAGE!!??”

“Shhhh!!” With haste, you stand from the table to cover your lady-in-waiting’s mouth from uttering another word. You swiftly survey the entire garden to see if anyone from the castle heard the shout. Luckily, it was just the two of you. “Please, Utahime, not so loud.”

The woman with her mouth covered blinks once, twice, before giving an assured mod for you to release her lips. She now speaks in whispers with you, “My apologies. But…marriage??”

“I know, it surprised me, too. It seems my father gave them his blessings to ask for my hand. It could be for the sake of our families and  relations or to strengthen the bond of our empires to maintain the powerhouse that is our continent.” 

“Mmm, those are valid reasons to consider, especially after the Great War, and that the bond of the three empires would give a good message…Or perhaps, did the Lords wish to wed you for more personal reasons?”

They did. That’s what you wanted to say. But instead, all you could do was think about their proposals from last night. The way they both stood on one knee and took two hands. Gojo’s eyes never looked so sincere and soft when looking at you, placing his soft lips on your left ring finger to gently kiss it. He looked like his princely self. But that night, he showed the caring and soothing cadence you had fallen in love with all these years. And Sukuna, oh Lord. Never did you think you’d live to witness the day this giant being before you took a knee for anyone – especially for you. Your right hand easily dwarfed in his grasp, brought to his lips that you’d only ever dream to have touch you. And those piercing eyes of his, red like blood, examining every single feature of yours as if you were the thing that made him strong yet weak. It was subtle, something only meant for your eyes to see. But most of all, it was genuine. 

“…That might be it, as well.” You mutter under your breath, your cheeks becoming warm while reminiscing the scenes to yourself. 

However, your chambermaiden was no fool at all. She could tell from your wandering gaze that something, in fact, did happen between the three royals that night. She lifted a brow at your response, “I think that is the case, seeing as though you’re trying to hide the smile from me.”

You squeak, immediately facing in her direction, seeing the foxy grin on her beautiful, scarred face. “I’m smiling?”

“Aha!” Oh no, I fell for it. “Gotcha! Oh my, it seems my Lady is having troubles with the heart. Could it be you are considering the marriage proposals?”

“W–Well…I don’t know myself,” it was an honest answer; you didn’t know the answer yourself. “The matter caught me off guard; I wasn’t expecting either of them to come to my quarters, let alone propose to me on the night of their arrival—“

“That’s not my question, my princess.” You gulp when she cuts you off, Utahime narrowing her feline eyes as she speaks. “It made you incredibly nervous that the three of you would be here at the same place, thinking those two would go at each other’s throats. Now, two Lords still stand, asking for you to be by their side, and you can barely keep a straight face. If you ask for my piece, I’m relieved they came here with the thoughts of marriage rather than spark up talk of another war in this continent.” 

You hum along to your maiden's words, taking in her reasoning. Yet she continues, “And judging by how fidgety you appear to be on this fine morning, something tells me you’re on the fence of accepting. Who will take my Lady’s hand? Lord Ryomen? Gojo? Ugh. If it’s the latter, I’ll only deal with him for your happiness. And Lord Ryomen, oh my. Being the spouse to the most powerful beast of Holy Tengen's continent , it’s something out of a fairy—“

“Utahime, calm down!” You stop the lady from her excitement bubbling into something substantial. You can tell she’s itching to plan your wedding – whenever that be – once your tea time is finished. “I…I didn’t accept their proposals, not yet.”

The dark-haired woman drops her jaw; how unfortunate it is for you to lie to your best friend. “What do you mean!? You didn’t? Then how come you three were discussing for such a long time? I saw Lord Gojo return to his quarters in the middle of the night, and I figured it was because you all had an in-depth discussion.” You open your mouth, but your words are caught on the back of your tongue. You couldn’t formulate a proper excuse or lie in time. Because of that hesitation, Utahime’s brows draw upward with wide eyes, her mouth changing into a small “o” shape. It was at that moment that you realized you dug yourself a grave.

“Princess,” her voice was still hushed, speaking slowly as if not to jump so hard to her assumptions. “…What exactly were you doing with Lord Satoru and Ryomen?”

“PRINCESS! PRINCESS!!”

Saved by another voice entering the fray, you and your lady-in-waiting turn around to see another person coming to the garden, running down the brick road to your destination. As they came closer, you could tell from the bright blue hair and uneven bangs that it was Utahime’s apprentice, the lower-status handmaiden Kasumi Miwa. Your lady-in-waiting was the first to correct her before getting closer, “Maiden Miwa! I’ve told you about running so freely around the castle. What if you were to bump into someone?” When Miwa is in the presence of the two of you, she’s huffing and puffing. “And stand up straight!”

“Eek! Sorry, Lady Iori, but I come bearing news for the princess!” Miwa fixes her posture and messy blue hair while trying to situate her breaths steadily. “Princess, I’m here to tell you that Lords Sukuna Ryomen and Satoru Gojo wish to speak with you!”

Huh??!! “Pardon??”

“Yes, they wish to discuss their proposals with you from last night. At least, that’s what they told me…Oh, there they are!” 

“Miwa, shhhh, don’t point!” 

You pay no mind to your chambermaid lecturing her young student because your eyes follow the brick pathway up to the castle steps where two figures stand. Sukuna and Gojo stand at the entranceway to the garden, both wearing their respective clothing. Not that it matters, though, because the memories from last night with your nude bodies being connected still haunt your senses. And now they’re here, big grins on their faces that share the same reason. They know, and they know that you know. Who knew that such a night full of unexpected passion and heat would happen to you and with your closest friends since your little years, who have grown to become such strong, handsome, and powerful men. 

Perhaps this was the union you’ve wished for — the union that could finally bring you three back together…Perhaps.

“…Tell them that I’m available to speak.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header art by rororogi mogera + dividers by @cafekitsune.

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Frowny Face

Summary: Nobara and Itadori try to figure out the similarities between Megumi and his son. They manage to find that the infamous Zen'in frowny face is a dominant trait.

Tags: Megumi x F!Reader, Humor, Fluff, SFW, 1200 wc

Notes: I had this drafted for weeks. After seeing the epilogue and the grandkids, wish I had posted sooner, I felt there wasn't a more appropriate time for this. Happy belated-birthday 'gumi.

“No, no, look again, he definitely has his eyes,” Itadori points out.

Nobara lowers her face towards the baby currently blinking at the two of them from the comfort of his plush crib. Megumi stands off to the side, arms loosely crossed over his chest and an increasingly spreading scowl as his two friends, if he could call them that right now, poke and prod at his kid.

Nobara was the first one to point out how much his child was growing and starting to resemble his parents before noticing that his new emerging features leaned heavily to your side of the family, leading to this search to pick out their similarities.

“I’m not seeing it,” Nobara disagrees, failing to find the hint of dark blue that Itadori swears he can see in the baby’s right pupil. To her, all she can see is black all the way through both eyes, like the majority of the Zen’in clan geezers from those centuries old family books she helped Maki trash; unfortunately, this didn't include Megumi so they couldn't even count it. With a hand on her hip, she turns to Megumi. “Sheesh, he doesn’t resemble you at all. The misses really said copy and paste, huh?”  

Megumi huffs, about three seconds away from shooing them into the kitchen where you’re making dinner. That’s until Itadori pipes up, “Sure he does.” And for a second, Megumi thinks they’ll finally drop this silly discussion. “He has the same grumpy face his dad does.”

Megumi sighs. He should’ve known better.

“Now that you mention it,” Kugisaki can barely contain her laughter as she reaches into the crib and gently pinches a chubby cheek. Your son makes no expression at her playful squeeze or poke to his belly. His tiny legs kick the same way any other baby would when tickled, but the flat line on his face refuses to budge. “This is the least smiley baby I’ve ever seen,” she concludes while Itadori nods in agreement as he goes in to tickle the baby’s foot – just to make sure.

Megumi knows the two idiots don’t mean any harm by it, being the person to receive the brunt end of their jokes and observations over his life, the kind that can only be made out of innocent obliviousness and overconfidence, but he can’t help but feel more defensive when it’s his kid.

“Do you two have nothing better to do than to shame a baby?” he gripes. “It’s late, go home.”

“Oh, lighten up, we were only teasing. He’s adorable,” Nobara dismisses as she notes how much bigger her future-partner-in-crime has become over the past few months. Looking back on it, she can’t recall any time she’s heard him laugh or much of anything. Sure, she’s seen him get fussy while babysitting, but she’s rarely heard him cry. “But you have to admit he isn’t very expressive…for a baby,” she mentions with a hint of concern, concern that isn’t needed from Megumi’s point of view.

“Maybe you two just aren’t funny,” he says, watching the way Itadori attempts to get his son to laugh by making silly faces; it results in little more than a fist full of pink hair getting tugged.

“I’m being serious. I mean…” she tilts her head, trying to word it delicately. “Does he smile at all?”

Megumi nods. “He smiles.”

“Does he?” Itadori presses, craning his neck as he struggles to free his hair.

“He does,” Megumi repeats, his eyes softening at the memory of that innocent and joyful giggle he first heard like an unimaginable dream come true. “It’s just when you’re not around.”

Nobara rubs at the back of her neck apologetically. “Sorry. I didn’t mean any offense by it. He’s a good baby,” she compliments before moving to help free Itadori’s hair from his iron-like grip. “And strong too,” she adds, looks at him, and clicks her tongue when she once again fails to find the bit of blue Itadori mentioned earlier, but it provides an opportunity to cut through the awkwardness they unwittingly created. She fakes a sigh. “Unlike your genes. I don’t think they even had a battle plan.”

“Very funny,” he puffs out between their chuckles then he hears another voice coming from the direction of the kitchen.

“That’s not true,” you say as you pad into the room with a milk bottle in hand, the grin on your face trembling as you try not to laugh with them. “They have a lot in common.” You begin to list off on your fingers. “They both like the same fruit and animals, he really likes books when you read to him, and do you think his hair maintains itself?”

Nobara breathes out an "oh" at your explanation. “So, he gets mom's good looks to balance out dad's aloof personality? Makes sense."

Your resistance breaks as you let out a giggle, ignoring the pout on your husband’s face. “Are you guys staying for dinner?”

“No, we should really get going,” Nobara states with a small yawn. “Mission reports won’t write themselves.”

You nod, handing Megumi the bottle of milk as you walk the others to the door and wave them off.

“Have a good night,” Itadori calls out while Nobara makes you promise to phone her tomorrow and to come hang out if you’re free.

Locking the door, you walk back in and head towards the crib.

“You really shouldn’t entertain them when they get like that," Megumi reminds you.

“You know they only do it to mess with you. It’s how they show they like you.”

“You mean they’re idiots.”

“Yet you open the door right up every time they come over.”

Megumi gives you a doubtful look. “Not by choice. It’d be like trying to stop a rampaging bull from barging in,” Megumi states, and you let out an amused huff. 

No matter how much he complains and comments that they haven't changed one bit after leaving school, he enjoys them. You remember how excited he seemed when Itadori called to ask if it was okay to pop in since they were nearby. Well, excited in that he immediately started to straighten out the house even though he had already cleaned earlier that morning. It's cute little quirks that often gives him away and the ones that make you like him even more.

“If it makes you feel better, I think you have a great personality and good looks,” you compliment with a brush of your hand over his hair. You look down at your son, who still seem unmoved by all the events of the evening. It makes you laugh because Nobara and Itadori were right. Your son does have Megumi’s ever-dull facial expression. 

“And both my boys have the cutest frowny faces,” you say, holding up your son to your face to nuzzle his nose. As you pull him away, your eyes brighten at the wide smile that flashes on his face followed by a warm giggle. “Hello to you too,” you coo and cuddle him again, causing another fit of giggles to fill the room, and the sound resonates in his chest and makes him forget any problems that arose on the way to getting to this point in his life.

“You forgot to tell them one thing,” Megumi says, coming forward to kiss your temple. As he told the others, his son does smile, and Megumi does too. “They both smile when they see mommy.”

[comatosebunny09]

carpe noctem [ rising action ] | sylus

— summary: you’ve convinced yourself that this is normal. routine. that you’re used to this, sitting like a fly on the wall while their relationship blossoms like a flower turned towards the sun before you. so why does it still hurt? — cw: reader is not mc, reader implied to be femme, assassin!reader, unrequited feelings, mentions of blood & injuries, jealousy, profanity, sexual content, fade-to-black, self-destructive behavior, somewhat of a slow burn, mdni — notes: thank you so much for reading! [ part 1 | part 2 | part 4 ] — now playing: bmf - sza

Breakfast is uncharacteristically quiet. 

At least, for the three of you, it is. The silence makes way for the lazy swish of cars on the road, the clatter of cutlery against plates, and the idle chatter of the cafe’s other patrons. 

It’s balmy outside. The type of weather that pastes your blouse to your skin and creates a fine film of sweat on the back of your neck. The kind that welcomes mosquitos and makes showering beforehand pointless. And it’s so obnoxiously bright out, nary a cloud in the sky. But you figure you're being unreasonably antsy because you’re hungover and still a little tired. 

Despite the climate, your ragtag team is seated beneath a cafe’s awning, scarfing down food to battle the effects of your collective hangovers before jetting back to Linkon.

Typically, Ms. Hunter would be on about something, filling the space with her animated talk, with you and Sylus occasionally chiming in to tease her or exchange covert words concerning upcoming missions. But she’s still a little worse for wear, with dark lenses perched on her nose and a wrinkle between her brows as she pushes food around her plate.

You snort around a mouthful of eggs at her plight, tucking your amusement behind your hand. Decide to incite a little mischief to distract yourself from the weather and the creeping feeling of unease brewing in your gut. 

“Someone had a rough night,” you tease, reaching for your orange juice.

She glowers at you. Sticks out her tongue, flipping you the bird. You snort into your drink, nearly sending pulp flying every which way.

“Not my fault you have the tolerance of a three-year-old.”

Your eyes crease at the corners whilst you watch her work up to a retort, mouth hanging open like a fish out of water. But before she can get a word out—

“Ladies,” Sylus interjects like a distant clap of thunder pushing across a dark horizon. He’s seated between you at the round, iron-wrought table, arms crossed over a broad chest. Sunglasses shroud scarlet intentions, but you don’t miss the twitch of a silver brow nor the humor meddling with his voice. “Play nice.” 

There’s finality there. He speaks to you like a referee. Like a father who’s caught his children roughhousing, and you both shrink beneath his mock disappointment. 

“Besides,” Sylus continues, casting his amused gaze on you. “You weren’t in the best of shape yourself last night. Are you really in any position to talk?” 

A hot rush of mortification wades over you. You're unsure of its source, whether at your memories of last night or how quickly he came to her defense. 

And so what if you stumbled a bit down the hall, searching for your room? 

You didn’t think he noticed after your exchange. Figured he retreated into his room, or worse—slipped across the hall to keep his hunter friend company into the wee hours of the morning while you tossed and turned, driven to hell by thoughts of them doing everything besides sleeping. 

The recollection makes you bristle, and you turn a scowl down to your food. Grumbling, you plop a slice of toast onto the hunter’s plate. She glances at you, confusion pulling her lips down. 

“Eat,” you order. “Feed a hangover, starve a cold.”

“I don’t think that’s how that goes,” she counters, a pout evident in her voice. But she doesn’t protest, sitting up in her seat to nibble on your peace offering.

You resist an impulse to pat her head, your ire sloughing off, traded for something like fondness. You want to ruffle locks of silken ebony because she’s effortlessly adorable, pulling at those little heartstrings you’d worked so hard to conceal. 

Sylus beats you to the punch, leaning forward to mold long fingers around the round of her head. The world slows, casting a special spotlight on the pair of them. 

You ignore how your chest tightens at the scene. At the affectionate little tug of his lips as Ms. Hunter cants her face towards him, cheeks full and expression doe-like. You try to pretend like it doesn’t make you sick with resentment. Once upon a time, he used to look at you like that. 

Fuck. 

What are you thinking? He is your boss, and she is your charge—your friend. There’s no reason to feel like this, especially considering you practically shoved Sylus into her arms, reasoning you never stood a chance in hell with him. 

You snap back to the present, and suddenly, breakfast isn’t so appetizing. You push around your cold eggs as Sylus and Ms. Hunter slide into easy conversation. You feel like a husk of yourself amid them. Like you’re impeding on something intimate, and your stomach lurches when they draw you into their chat every so often as if pitying you.

You’ve convinced yourself that this is normal. Routine. That you’re used to this, sitting like a fly on the wall while their relationship blossoms like a flower turned towards the sun. And yet, you’ve never been more eager to return to the N109 Zone. To leave these green-eyed thoughts on this island and get back to your distracting life, luring terrible people to their demise and wiping the scourge of man off the face of the planet. 

You suddenly straighten, clearing the phlegm from your throat. Your silverware clatters against your plate as you shove it away, eyes regretfully shifting between them.

“So, what time do we leave?” There’s a whisper of exasperation in your tone, but you quickly conceal it with that playful arrogance you’re known for. 

Sylus and the hunter trade looks of confusion and humor, blind to the turmoil of your mind slowly creeping through the folds and staining your pride like ink spilled into water.

“Eager to get back to work, aren’t you?”

You scoff, taking up your fork, clueless to scarlet eyes studying the crown of your head, narrowing at the apprehensive slope of your voice. “You have no idea.”

—

It’s a pleasure to dance. Of course, it always is. It’s one of the few times you feel desired. Wanted. Useful when your hands aren’t speckled with blood and your knuckles aren’t purpling from bashing someone’s face in for taunting The Devil. 

Dancing is a versatile skill you’ve acquired with time and practice. It's one of the few pleasures you’ve drawn from this fickle life. One of the few things you kept from a past veiled in darkness, the rest tucked away in the hulls of your psyche.  

All eyes are on you. Gazes burning with assorted degrees of desire, envy, and awe beneath the tawny glow of the stage lights. The attention makes you warm and tingly, and your lips salaciously curve as you move your body in time with the music, casting an inadvertent spell on all who dare to watch. 

You’re the center of attention without trying to be and without the influence of your Evol. Of course, you usually are. He’s even told you so. Customers often flock to Sylus’ nightclubs to see you dance, hoping to one day have your affections. 

Or to fuck you. 

You rarely entertain these people. Not unless you have to. Not unless Sylus sicks you on them to further his goals or take down his competition. You’re ever the faithful lapdog, tuned to your boss’ every command, and it makes you sick with how loyal you are to him sometimes. A part of you feels you owe him for this life you lead. He’d snatched you from an impenetrable darkness. Renewed your sense of purpose and redirected your desire for revenge. 

For now, you have this. The recognition of others despite how misplaced it is. They want you for your body, for the promise of what your facade offers. Deep down, you crave something more, something real. But you tamp down those feelings as you bite your lip, putting on a good show, hands smoothing over the surge of your hips. And you’re spurred by the whoops and whistles and shouts of your name as the lights dim, signaling the conclusion of your performance.

Your chest heaves with the effort of breathing, and your cheeks ache with a smile as you pose. The crowd's cheers dampen the violent thrum of your heartbeat—chase away the cacophony of your mind, adrenaline spuming through you like an erupting geyser. 

You look over your shoulder towards the ceiling, catching scarlet-spun eyes from the upper floor’s rail, and your grin twitches the slightest bit. It’s a rush, having the attention of strangers. Having their desire, their yearning. But his attention is much more addicting like Nicotine furling between your teeth. For a moment, you feel seen. Like you’re the center of his universe, and not the pretty, bright-eyed damsel with enough room in her heart to house the galaxy.

Something flashes in his eyes, and the world fades. You mistake it for tenderness. Just wishful thinking. He would never choose you. He’s had four years to make you his. 

Why would he suddenly choose to acknowledge you now?

—

Once the adrenaline ebbs and clubbers flood the dance floor, you’re nestled behind the crowd, leaning against the sticky countertop of the bar, clutching a glass of something acrid and glacial between your fingers—something to take the edge off. To mute the insistent pulse of your nerves.

The music thumps beneath your feet, accompanied by the sparkling chatter of the club’s other clients. Yet you still hear him amid the chaos—the familiar curl of a voice around the vowels of your name. You fix him with an amused, sultry look beneath Lux’s customary red hue. 

“When are you gonna let me take you out on a date?” he asks, worn knuckles easing down the slope of your arm. You track his audacity with your eyes, jerking away from his unwarranted attention, ignoring the goosebumps igniting across your skin.

This, too, is routine—one of Lux’s regulars throwing himself at your feet, begging for an opportunity to court you.  He’s been on like this for months, entertaining your game of cat and mouse. Maybe you’ve given him a false sense of hope because he’s yet to let up. In fact, he’s grown bolder with his advances lately, often popping up when you least expect him, vying for your heart.

It’s endearing, really, having someone who genuinely wants you. Or maybe he doesn’t, but you convince yourself otherwise. Play a sick little game with yourself, fooling yourself into thinking that maybe there’s more to you than your reputation builds you up to be.

You turn towards him, crossing your legs, the leather barstool sticky beneath your thighs. You lean into your knuckles, studying dark brows, whiskey-infused eyes, and full lips. You end your excursion at the thick of his throat, excitement prickling like static in your chest. He’s easy on the eyes, tone velvet smooth. Had you not been a femme fatale, you might’ve given him the time of day.

But for now—

“You couldn’t handle me,” you counter, reveling in how the smugness melts from his face.

He chuckles at your cheekiness, sweeping the tails of his blazer back and stuffing his hands into his pockets. Squares his shoulders, standing akimbo like he’s preparing for a fight, though he might as well be, stepping to you like this.

“Still holding out for that old man, I see.”

It is your turn to wear a wavering smile. Your turn to look silly, the proverbial knife driven into your stomach and twisted. 

You scoff with a sneer, dumping the last vestiges of your drink down your throat. You tear yourself from your seat, reaching past the gentleman to snatch your coat from the counter, pinning him with a haughty look. 

“I’m not holding out for anyone, fucker. And even if I were, it wouldn't be your slow ass.”

With a huff, you brush past him, wending through the crowd gathered on the dance floor to retreat into your dressing room. 

You try vainly to contain a scowl, knowing you’ve been read like the deckled pages of a book deep down. 

Maybe you refuse to move on because you feel like you’d betray Sylus if you did. How, exactly, you’re unsure. He’s had no problem betraying you, quietly shoving you out of the picture in favor of someone who’s hardly seen him bleed. 

—

“Do you like anybody?” Ms. Hunter asks above the steady purr of the SUV’s engine.

Her question nearly floors you. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens slightly, and you almost choke on your spittle. 

You’re stuck in traffic together. 

Knowing the holidays loomed around the bend, someone decided it would be an ideal day to go to the mall. Of course, you weren’t the only people out on the road. 

So naturally, she’s bored, unused to the silence stretching between you. The low croon of the music spilling from the speakers does nothing to ease the tension.

You glance at her, and she’s wearing a Cheshire Cat-like grin, studying you from the passenger seat. You swallow thickly, adjusting your shades on your face, staring at the cars sluggishly easing up beyond the windshield. “I don’t like very many people.”

An exasperated sigh later.

“C’mon! There’s gotta be someone you like. Ya’ know.” She pitches herself closer, her mischievous grin curling in your periphery, and she pokes your side with a pointed finger to get a rise out of you. 

“Someone that gets your heart racing. Someone who makes your face all hot. Makes butterflies swarm in your tummy.” 

You know exactly where this is going. Had you not valued your friendship—or whatever you call this complicated mashup between you—you would reveal the inner workings of your mind. But how insane would you sound, telling the hunter the person who gets your blood racing is the very same man she has tucked in her back pocket?

So, you deflect. With a sardonic smirk, you jest, “You get my heart racing when you fuck up our meetings.”

You squint and flinch away with a laugh in your throat as she swats you, whining at your cruelty. 

“You suck,” pouts Ms. Hunter, falling back into her seat with crossed arms. “Bet it’s that guy who always stalks you at Lux.”

You side-eye her in the rearview, placatingly patting her head. “I like you, stupid. Isn’t that good enough?”

Maybe one day. 

One day, you’ll have the intestinal fortitude to tell her the truth—to tell them both the truth. How you’re falling apart at the stitching, the world you know falling away from beneath your feet.

—

You’re not as strong as you let on. You’re human beneath that flirtatious exterior—still a woman with wants and needs, not immune to the temptations of the flesh. Which is why you find yourself at his doorstep, a glacial, errant breeze ruffling the tails of your coat as the silvery moon haloes your silhouette.

He leans against the doorframe, brown eyes simmering with intrigue as he takes you in. Dark hair sweeps over raised brows. “What made you change your mind?”

You shrug, hands stuffed in your pockets, a quirk to your lips. “Maybe I just need a friend.”

He chuckles low, arms crossed. “A friend, huh?” 

“Yeah.”

There’s no mistaking the pitch of your voice. The air charges with something amorous as he ushers you into his apartment. You brush past him, tamping down your dignity as you disappear into the warm sanctity of his home, his hand reassuring at the small of your back.

Had you taken the time to survey your surroundings, you would’ve noticed a set of beady, crimson eyes peering through the inky night, watching you from their perch atop a powerline.

And had you further investigated, you would’ve heard the familiar whirr of machinery as the iridescent outline of sleek feathers recorded your every move.

conflict | masterlist | climax

[strange-dreams-are-made-of-these]

Your Heart Fits Like A Key

Summary: Your ex boyfriend is your knight in shining armor rescuing you after a bad date. There's nobody else like Logan, and you finally see it. This is imagined with 2013 Logan in mind, but any Logan could work Warnings: MDNI!!! its porn without plot. Logan receives road head, afab!female reader, reader receives oral, pet names (baby, baby girl, princess), car sex, logan talks reader through it, not proofread, no use of y/n Word Count: 3.7k+

You blamed yourself for not checking the weather report before getting ready for your date today. Westchester County was huge, but the upper part of the county wasn't the kindest to pedestrians. Granted, you did have a car, but good ole Casper the white Dodge was sitting in the shop still waiting on that part needed to fix the transmission. Had you lived closer to the southern end of the county you could have at least been within decent walking range of the subways and trains that made the lives of New York City's residents easier.

Your phone buzzed again on your bathroom counter as you plucked the stray eyebrow hair between your brow and temple. As you looked down, you saw his name, and a flutter rose in your chest. You shook your head, deciding to answer it. "You would have thought that after i didn't answer your third call you would have thought I didn't want to talk to you."

A gruff filled the space in a response. "What can I say? If I'm known to be anything, its protective. Something could have been wrong and I would have to come and save you"

"Did you mean protective or possessive?" You asked, though not able to get rid of the smirk that crept up on your face.

"There's a very fine line between the two, darlin'." he cooed into the phone, sounding just as smooth as his line delivery.

It had been nearly a year since you and Logan broke up, yet he couldn't quite just leave you alone. It wasn't just that you two dated for two years, two wonderful years filled with love and domesticity, and the occasional fight between the forces of good and evil. You weren't much one to fight with the team known as the X-Men. Your powers occur in the cases of near accidents or without much effort. Probability field manipulation made it nearly impossible for you to receive a scratch or bruise.

Which was ironic due to your lack of success in your dating life after Logan. What was that saying about being unlucky in love?

"I'd love to stay and chit-chat with you, Logan-"

"Perfect, let's have dinner tonight at Lucky's." You could barley hear the jingling of keys in his hand, as if he was spinning them around in his finger.

You rested one hand on the bathroom counter, dropping your jaw slightly before speaking again. "I can't. I'm already going out tonight."

The keys stopped spinning and an audible change could be heard in his tone. "I'm sure the girls from work won't mind having a scary dog privilege around, or whatever you girls are saying these days."

"It's not with the girls, or with coworkers." You looked at yourself int he mirror, then pressing your brows together. Why did you tell him that?

Logan hummed on the other side of the phone, not a jovial one. "So, some slob is taking you out tonight?" He asked you.

You didn't think Jake to be a slob, except for the inappropriate water cooler bathroom humor, but he was nice and somewhat good looking.

Not as good looking as Logan though.

"Nothing too crazy. Just pizza and a walk." As you looked at your dress in the mirror, you knew you were overdressed, but you couldn't help yourself. It had been ages since you last wore the dress, and it was the perfect combination of being short enough to leave the mind wanting more and hugging your curves in the right way.

"Sounds like he can't afford to take you on a proper date. Who knows what else he can't properly do." Logan replied, knowing the sound of his voice was already driving you wild. He could imagine your face now, how soft your eyes would be as he looked down at you.

You knew the voice he was using was his bedroom voice, and it drove you mad. To feel his arms wrap around your waist and pull you back into his hold, to feel his lips dance across your cheeks and ears, nibbling the lobes had sent shivers down your spine.

Oh, how you missed him dearly.

"Too bad you'll never know." You responded, trying to force the thoughts of Logan out of your mind.

"We'll see, princess."

–

Later that night, you and Jake had sat in Martin and Rocco's pizzeria, a little place you enjoyed from time to time. Jake had showed up not only half an hour late, but he decided to wear an ill-fitting grey t-shirt and baggy jeans. His hair looked as if he had just rolled out of his bed. All while you were in the slim red dress with your black leather jacket tucked on your lap.

Jake had been laughing rather loud and ruthlessly, spitting food out as he did so. It left a sour taste in your mouth as you protectively shielded your glass of red wine from his debris. The waiter came back asking about your check. "It'll be one, bro." Jake spoke. The waiter nodded, handing the printed check over to Jake. He shook his head, then pointed at you. You looked at him dumbfounded as the waiter left.

"Why are you pointing at me?" You asked him.

He threw his hands up. "Don't look at me. This was your idea." He sounded rather confident, making your blood boil.

"I don't mind paying for my own, I would rather pay for my own. I'm not paying for you." You spoke firmly, clutching your purse. Now the bill wasn't large at all. A medium-sized pizza that you ate only one slice of as he consumed the rest, your one glass of wine, and his three beers came to around forty-five dollars before tip. "I'll pay for the drinks, no problem. I'm not paying for a pizza I barely touched."

Jake narrowed his eyes at you. "This date was your idea. Why do you think I didn't bring my wallet? Just my I.D." He asked you again.

Eyeing the rest of the wine in your glass, you looked back at Jake. The highest road to take would be to pay for the meal, tip the waiter, and never speak to Jake again.

But you never were one to take the high road.

Hanging your jacket over your arm, you stand up and walk over to Jake. "You know what?" You swirled the red liquid in your glass, watching as it stained the sides temporarily. "He's right... You wouldn't know how to treat me right." You turned to look at him, changing your posture. "Suck a bag of dicks." You then turn the glass over in your hand, drenching your pathetic date in the rest of your wine.

He wiped his eyes, making a scene of himself as you walked away. You spoke to the waiter, making sure to pay for the drinks and tip him as you said you would, then leaving the staff to take care of the rest.

You felt a newfound sense of confidence as your hips swayed leaving the restaurant and putting on your jacket.

Then the rain started to soak your hair. The confidence started to fade as you then remembered to had to use an Uber to get to the restaurant because your car was in the shop. You sighed loudly, turning on your heel to begin your long walk home.

A car pulled up toward you as the passenger window rolled down. "Need a ride, baby?"

You looked over, feeling defeated that Logan had found you. Of course, he would, like he did with all of your previous dates. "I'm good." You lied.

You knew better, he could tell by the way your cheeks had been red, even under the street lights, that something was wrong. Logan got out of the car, shutting the door before walking around, opening the passenger door, shielding it from the rain. "You sure about that?"

Option A: Tell Logan, the honest love of your life, to leave you alone and continue to walk home.

Option B: stick around until Jake comes out of the restaurant smelling like the house wine special for the night and risk watching Logan beat the shit out of him.

Option C: Accept the universe's way of telling you everything will be alright.

You pull your jacket around you a little tighter as you turn and approach Logan and his car. You look up at him, placing a hand on his cheek and gently patting it. Before you could sink into the seat, he gently grabbed ahold of your wrist, bringing it to his lips and pressing those perfectly soft lips to the inside of your wrist as he kissed it.

After making sure you were in the car, Logan closed the door, walked around the front of the car, and entered the driver's side. As he turned the engine back over, police sirens could be heard in the distance. "What's going on?" He asked watching as they approached the pizzeria and a couple of cops entered the restaurant.

"Well, if we don't get out of here, I may end up in handcuffs.” You sighed, your chest rising and falling harshly. “Not in the good way.”

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s my girl.” He turned the wheel, quickly speeding out of the parking spot.

He rested one hand on the steering wheel, the other was on the gearshift as he comfortably sped down the roads of the town you called home. You ignored the burning pit in your stomach, reaching into your bag and pulling out your perfume. It was a small bottle with a roller ball, applying it on your wrists and neck. Logan looked over at you, smirking. “You’re too dolled up for that slouch, Doll.” He spoke, then peering back at the road.

You hummed a little, then resting your elbow on the side door, pressing your temple on your hand as you looked over at him. “What can I say? I wanted to dress up for somebody.” But Jake was the wrong somebody.

“When you feel the need to dress up, just call me.” He spoke lowly, turning down the scenic route on the backside of the town.

You knew what he was doing, what he had planned from the time you spoke to him on the phone. After the night you had, you weren’t going to deny your knight on his white horse the pleasure of making you happy.

You knew it made him happy too, something you craved. Nobody else you have ever met was Logan. Nobody was going to be Logan. It was impossible.

“You know, I’m more than just a pretty little girl to look at, Logan.” Your left hand reached over slowly to rest on his jeans. His perfectly fitting jeans, matching with the dark button up he wore. Logan knew exactly what he was doing. His face remained pointed at the road, his eyes looking down at your hand as you finally reach to ghost over his clothed erection. He bit his lip, quickly closing his eyes as you palm him over his jeans. “I can be evil.” You coo, leaning over as you press your forehead to his shoulder.

Logan sucked in a deep breath, now placing both hands on the steering wheel. “You already torment me, princess.” He responded, now looking over at you.

You shift in your seat, now pressing both knees on the seat bottom, your hands busy unbuckling his belt. Your fingers rested on the button of his jeans as you look up at him, a devious glare in both of your eyes. “Say the word, and I’ll stop.”

His eyes searched yours, triangulating your eyes and lips. “Come back to me.” He whispered to your lips before you could capture them in yours. Falling back into your vicious cycle, your lips mold well with his you give into your desires.

Logan pulls away only to look at the road. This gives you enough time to unbutton and unzip his jeans. You slip your hand down his boxers, taking a hold of his girth as you bring it to the surface. You lick your lips, then pooling some more saliva in your mouth, spitting on him. As you lower down to him, your lips meet his red tip, already leaking pre-cum, and kiss him a couple times. This earned you an approving groan from Logan, who drew his lips into a thin line as he focused on the road.

You lick down his veins, then kiss up his shaft, feeling the heat in your belly grow into something different. You took Logan in your mouth, tongue wrapping around his length as you went down on him. You felt his hand then lace a crown in your hair as you bobbed up and down on him, sucking him the way he deserved.

“Good girl,” He practically purred, making your thighs shake in response. One of your hands braced yourself on his leg, knowing if you reached for yourself Logan would tear into you. The other hand reached for his balls, thumbing the skin as you massaged him. Logan began to speed, the sensation of you taking all of him without a gag reflex was pure ecstasy to him. He groaned out, huffing harshly as he praised you. Warm, velvety ropes of cum filled your mouth and throat as Logan breathed heavily. It was sweet heavenly music to your ears as you worked him through his orgasm, feeling your core deprived of attention.

“Fuck this.” Logan spoke harshly, taking another turn down a dirt road. He pulled the car into a space off the side of the dirt road, turning it off as you left go of him as you lick up the rest of his cum. “My girl needs me.” He spoke again, pulling the level on his seat back. The seat scooted all the way back before he grabbed both of your hips, practically pulling you into his lap. “You need me, don’t you baby?” He asked you, bushing your hair out of your face as you straddled him.

You had long discarded the leather jacket to the passenger seat floor, resting both of your hands on his shoulders. You nodded quickly, licking your lips feeling yourself quake over his body. “Take me to bed, or lose me forever.” You whisper between the two of you.

This sent chills down his spine as one hand raced up your spine, grabbing you by the neck and pulling your faces to each other, grabbing you in a passionate kiss. A hungry one. A desperate one. He never wanted to let you go, never again. He would gladly taking a beating every day if it meant he could hold you life this again.

His free hand reached between your bodies, unsheathing one claw to cut through your underwear. The delicate lace fell between the both of you in shreds. “I just bought those.” You complained as you broke the kiss for air.

Logan then lowered the seat back giving you both room. “I’ll buy you new ones.” He promised.

Both his and your hands reached for the back of the dress, pulling the zipper down. Logan was faster pulling it off of your body, his eyes scanning over your body once again. Like a child in a candy store, he stared in awe as you were now only clothed in your bra. Your hands made quick work of his shirt, ripping the buttons apart as the scattered around the car’s interior. “You’re not the only one with money.” you retort, now pressing your lips to his, then lining kiss to his jaw and down his neck.

One of his arms braces you, holding him closer to you as the other hand now begins to give you attention. His index and middle fingers part your folds, bringing a moan from you as you bury yourself between his neck and shoulder. “I got you, princess. I’ll work you through it.” He whispered in your ear, feeling your hips buck up into hand. His palm rubs against your core, soaked in your pre-cum as your body shivers in his. “Gotta get your ready for me, baby.” You gasp into his shoulder, lips now splayed on his shoulder as you wrap your arms around him. His finger and thumb pinch the delicate flesh of your clit, making you buck again. He used your bucking to his advantage, pressing two fingers into you. “Just like that. You take me so well.” He rubbed your gummy walls, feeling you already clench around him.

“Lo-Logan… please.”

You feel the rumble in his chest, how your chest begins to quickly rise and fall into his as you plead with him. He wonders if you will ever find out how cute you are begging him. “Please what, princess?”

You pull away from his shoulder, grinding your hips against his fingers, your bottom lip quivering. “Please fuck me.”

His lips crashed onto yours again as he removed his hand, stroking it over his length before guiding himself toward your entrance. You both sigh at the same time when he presses his tip in. His hands find your hips, grabbing handfuls of your skin as you skin onto him. You busy yourself with kissed to his hairy pecs as you roll your hips over him, bouncing on his length. Logan’s head dipped back, closing his eyes briefly. He looked up at your face, your jaw dropped again as your hands rest on his stomach to brace yourself. “Good-Good girl.” He then reached up to your bra, unsheathing his claws again and he sliced it off of your body. Once off, his hands reached your your breasts, palming your nipples, pulling your breasts together and pinching your nipples.

You bounced more on him, feeling the car rock with your movements as you clench around him, not even a whole three minutes in and your are already weak for this man.

Logan must have sensed this as he then pulled you off of him, carefully and skillfully he maneuvered you to the back seat, setting you on your back. He shimmed around, moving his head between your thighs, lining kisses from the middle of your thigh down to your core, suckling your clit as he slung on of your legs over his shoulder. You brought your hands up to your face, covering your eyes before dragging down your cheeks, then lips, then neck. “LOG-ah!” You called out as he pressed further into your core, his tongue lathing up your undoing.

As your breathed heavily recovering front our high, he continued to pamper you with kisses. Kissed from your core up to your belly button, to your sternum as his nose danced between your breasts, his arms now reaching up to cage you in after throwing both your legs over his shoulders. “It’s time to let me take care of you.”

He pressed himself inside of you again in one harsh thrust, picking the pace up as your joined bodies moved in unison. Your hands reached to cup his face as you breathed heavily in each others face, chasing another high together.

Oh how you missed Logan, and how he knows how to treat a lady.

It felt so right, all of it. Your mascara began to run down your face. Logan wiped your face with his thumb. “It’s okay, pretty girl. You’re fine. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” He soothed you.

“I-I’m gon-” You scrunch your face before looking back up at him.

“Cum for me, princess.” He commanded. AS your coil came undone again, Logan’s lips met yours, causing you to moan into his face as he rode your high out on him. Your cries of pleasure fill the car as Logan’s release fell over him. Your pussy milking him for all he was worth. Logan hovered above you as you both came down from your highs, clinging onto each other tightly.

Once things began to settle for the both of you, He removed himself from you, then shifting you around to where you were now resting on top of him. His arms wrapped around your lower back and the back of your head while yours laid on the sides of his chest. Your breathing and heart beats began to slow down to as the buzz filled your head.

After a few minutes of silence, and one long over due fuck session, Logan broken the silence. “What did you mean earlier? When you said take me to bed or lose me forever?”

You looked up at him, adjusting yourself to be able to look at his eyes as you spoke. “You were right. He was a slob, and he didn’t know how to treat me.” You look as if you were caught in thought as your finger traced a figure eight on his chest, causing Logan to look at you in his usual inquiring way. “Nobody will ever be you.”

This caused him to laugh, fog inside the windows growing at the statement. “Here, I was thinking you had watched Top Gun and wanted to be cheesy.”

You narrowed one eyebrow at him, a flirty smirk growing on your face. “You’re no Goose, but you sure are a big stud, Wolverine.”

Logan nodded, the hand resting on your lower back slowly ran up and down your spine. “So, about Lucky’s?”

You hummed a little thinking about the events of the night. “Tomorrow. I’m quitting my job, no thanks to Jake. So any time after noon?”

Logan nodded, accepting the terms of the date. He then cocked his head at you, tsking you and wagging a finger. “You remembered his name, baby girl. That means I need to fuck it out of you again.”

“Maybe in a bed next time? Or a shower?” You ask him, knowing your addiction to this man was a hard one to break.

He stared at you, his face turning soft as he nodded. “Come here.” He whispered. You were more than happy to oblige, pressing your lips to his again.

Oh yes, Logan Howlett was a man of many talents. But one thing you were more than thankful for was his way of loving you harder outside of your relationship.

[nanazta]

MEGUMI AS BOYFRIEND

“I need your love I'm a broken rose 舞い散る悲しみ your song 居場所無い孤独な my life I need your love” rose, anna tsuchiya

The not very good boyfriend with an ironic sense of humor.

The boyfriend who pulls you back to bed on cold days.

The boyfriend who speaks without thinking when he's overwhelmed, but soon regrets it and apologizes.

The boyfriend who just rests his head on your shoulder when he's tired from a long day.

The boyfriend who feels more jealous than he could admit, but who keeps it to himself so as not to appear toxic.

The boyfriend who hates leaving his comfort zone, but who does it for you.

The boyfriend who started recording moments with a digital camera (he picked up this habit from you).

"That reminds her..." ▶️ "Would she like that?"

The boyfriend who asks you to stop running and wait for him.

The boyfriend who swears he's going to go crazy because he has to take care of three children (Yuuji, Nobara and you).

"Come on honey, open the door. I didn't mean to say that! You got it wrong.."

The boyfriend who seems like an obsessive spirit after you.

The boyfriend who, if you're wrong, defends you in front of others, and scolds you later.

"Are you... fighting with me?"(😧😟)

The gentleman boyfriend.

The boyfriend who tries to be less explosive and impulsive in his words when they argue.

The boyfriend who is like a mother when you are sick, always checking up on you.

The boyfriend who is dependent on you, even if it doesn't seem like it.

The boyfriend who reminds you where your things are.

[jmliebert]

Astarion Comforting You When You’re Sad

Astarion notices immediately when something is off. he’s usually the distant type, but with you, it’s different. seeing you upset is somehow unbearable

he approaches with a mix of impatience and concern, furrowing his brows as he says, “heavens, can you finally tell me what’s going on? or must I truly lose my mind trying to guess?”

doesn’t back down until you open up. for all his teasing, he won’t leave your side until you tell him what’s troubling you—even a little

if you try to brush off your feelings, he chides you: “darling, you’re awful at hiding things from me. don’t even try.” and it almost sound like a threat

but in reality he's just genuinely worried, and doesn't know how to cope with it

when you finally let it out, what starts with his characteristic intensity melts into something tender. his gaze shifts from piercing to understanding, something dangerously vulnerable flickering in his eyes as he listens

he’s uncharacteristically gentle. he holds you as you cry, his hand tracing soothing circles on your back. there’s no sarcasm, no biting humor- he's just being there for you

he could make a quip, sure. but he stops himself. he wants to be the person he once wished for during his times under cazador’s iron grip

so Astarion speaks softly, his words brimming with wisdom and the weight of centuries of experience. in those moments, you see just how old he truly is and how much he’s been through

if words aren’t what you need, he offers silence instead. he sits with you, holding your hand, as if to remind you that you’ll never be alone—not like he was, not ever

his touch is feather-light as he brushes away your tears, his thumb gliding gently across your cheeks. he caresses your hair, his other hand grazing your swollen lips as if lost in thought

and then comes that smile—the rare, quiet one he saves only for you, it hold a silent promise you see...

he draws a hot bath for the two of you, insisting it will help. with your head resting on his chest, you feel his arms around you, holding you close and your body unbend slowly

the water is warm, your pulse thrumming softly beneath your skin, and the scent of your blood is impossibly tempting. hunger gnaws at him, sharp and insistent, but he doesn’t say a word. wouldn’t dream of it—not when you’re like this

at night, he watches over you, cradling you softly and wishing you would never be sad like this ever again. if it were possible he would take all this pain of yours and bear it himself

because he loves you so much

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

hello dove, you can find more of my works about astarion ♡here♡

[bvidzsoo]

Cold Red Iron

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

⎊ Warning: suggestive speech and content, cursing, violence, weapons, stabbing, blood, hostage situation, mentions of domestic violence (not against MC) ⎊ Word count: 27.6k ⎊ Rating: mature, nsfw ⎊ Genre: Iron Man!AU, humour, Marvel references, superheroes!au, workplace!au, they can't stand each other but end up working together!au ⎊ Summary: Each day you wake up wondering what you did in a previous life to deserve your prick of a boss, who is also a womanizer and owns a company that made him a millionaire. But the job pays well, and there's Mrs. Bae too, so you suck it up. But one unfortunate event at the metro station seems to change your life for the better (?).

A/N: I actually thought I could make this oneshot 15~18k, who's the clown here now? Hii, hello, welcome back my lovelies to a completely random and uncalled for Marvel oneshot that is humorous (I hope so) but also deals with serious topics. For the sake of the story, Mingi is aged up and is closer to his thirties and our MC is around 25-ish, though unspecified, and Mrs. Bae, who is Irene/Bae Joohyun, is aged up a lot lmao, so yes, Yunho is younger than everyone ~oops. I think this is all I wanted to say, sorry for mistakes 'cuz some always somehow slip through, and if I missed tagging any warning lmk. I appreciate your feedback lots, so let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading ^^ divider

🕸️(you can find my Spiderman!Yunho oneshot here)

            S. Industries, the name of the tallest building in our city is owned by possibly one of the city’s most affluent men. From engineering and producing weapons that are shipped out to other countries with masses, to fabricating gadgets and small electronic devices that have Mr. Song’s artificial intelligent assistant implemented in them, to joining a collaboration with Mercedes-Benz to produce a prototype never heard of before, S. Industries seemed to do a little bit of everything. Engineers of the best calibre fought to get a spot in the team and those fired often found themselves lost and devastated by their predicament. Smart and important people worked here, people who had a vision and had set their minds on changing the world. Mr. Song, the embarrassingly rich owner of the enterprise, seemed to have flamboyant and insane ideas often, yet, they somehow always managed to work out in his favour. There was rarely a day where Mr. Song wasn’t on the news or TV, smirking and winking at the cameras as he flirted with the reporters into oblivion—these were the good scenarios because there were days when instead of appearing for his good deeds and world-changing innovations, he appeared in scandalous hypostasizes that had to be fixed by none other than me.

He was exactly the man you’d imagine a young and super-rich CEO would be like. He drank and partied as long as the night lasted, and when dusk came, he’d bring ladies into his bed to satisfy his insatiable needs. No woman lasted long by his side, perhaps because his personality was truly dislikeable or perhaps because he couldn’t keep it in his pants for too long. There had been multiple occasions when security had to escort his screaming exes out while Mr. Song hid away in his office with his tail between his legs and the excuse that he was too busy working, meanwhile, he was busy whining and nursing his hangover. But he also liked to act like he was the bigger and better person in the room, often with his eyebrows furrowed and with disgust on his features as he looked at you above his narrow glasses and judged whatever came out of your mouth. I couldn’t fully understand the women that surrounded me and their desperation to be noticed by the CEO. Despite his very obvious good looks, I always thought his bad personality ruined even the thought of finding him attractive in the true sense of the word—meaning inside out. Sure, for a one-night-stand, the man was probably a perfect partner, but even then, I wouldn’t have wanted to be another body count added to his long and never-ending list so that he can gloat about it to his buddies while they have a beer—or wine, whatever thing these fancy people drink on a night out if they even do those. 

And Mr. Song was shameless, he very obviously did not care about the working environment and neither about the fact that there was a power imbalance each time he decided to sleep with one of his employees. I yet had to see the day when it didn’t end up with his temporary partner fired as Mr. Song claimed that he was uncomfortable by their overbearing presence, irritated by the constant attention he got from said employee—or victim, as I liked to call them. The longest an employee he hooked up with managed to continue staying at the firm was two weeks and that one ended on a pretty bad note—she now has a restricting order on her hands, Mr Song doesn’t play around despite his often easy-going façade. I wasn’t one to be quick to judge, but I was thoroughly bothered and disgusted by the lack of care Mr. Song seemingly had towards his female employees, the nonchalance with which he dismissed others never ceased to make my blood boil.

And if it wasn’t enough that he was a womanizer, he was also a jerk to his employees when he so happened to ‘not be in the mood’, which translated to him getting up on the wrong side of the bed and so he had the right to be pissy and offensive to everyone around himself, including his so very sweet secretary that I swore to protect with my whole being. Mrs. Bae was an elderly lady who was in excellent shape and an absolute professional in everything she did, she was so eager to teach me everything I needed to know about administrative work as when I had joined S. Industries, I was still fresh out of college with barely any experience. Mrs. Bae was also very loyal to Mr. Song, for some reason, and she was diligent in her work and spent way too much time at the office, fixing Mr. Song’s messes that shouldn’t have been committed in the first place. But if there was anyone in this goddamn office that had even a little bit of control over Mr. Song, then it sure as hell was Mrs. Bae as she’d often storm inside his office without knocking—disregarding the fact that her boss might be in the midst of unloading his stress, if you know what I mean—and she’d absolutely put him in his place, scrutinizing him as a disappointed mother would with her disobeying child.

But still, that was just Mrs Bae, others weren’t so lucky. If Mr. Song decided he didn’t like you, you were dead meat, nobody would want to associate themselves with you, and oftentimes those employees would resign on their own, aware that the entirety of S. Industries had just rejected them. And this wasn’t all, Mr. Song also spoke with little respect and consideration, eyes often narrowed and eyebrows furrowed as he scowled and interrupted your speech, embarrassing you in front of your colleagues and unjustly dismissing your hard work. He would also laugh if you made a mistake or if your idea was catalogued as not good enough, sending most of his employees into an existential crisis whenever he did this. It was sad, truly, having to watch my colleagues crumble day by day. I, thankfully, had rarely come in direct contact with Mr. Song as I was a mere secretary assistant, but because Mrs. Bae was basically his right hand, I shared the same floor with her and our boss. That, however, meant that despite usually being overlooked by Mr. Song, I got to watch all of his shenanigans unfold, unable to do or say anything.

Working here has definitely taught me patience and Mrs. Bae advised me to just try and ignore Mr. Song unless I had to work with him directly, apparently, there was nothing he hated more than being ignored. He acted like a damn child that was desperate for attention and not like a man with a very serious burden on his hands, with one of the strongest industries in his hands, able to control the outcome of wars even if he so wished. I had yet to see the day Mr. Song acted like a decent human being, compassionate and understanding, kind and less of a prick.

So, knowing all that, you must understand my honest reaction to finding out that Mrs. Bae had fallen so ill that she had to be hospitalized, scaring half of the company to death when she sent us an e-mail. Of course, in true fashion to her, it was worded professionally and she asked us not to worry but to work even harder in her absence, and then she assigned all her subordinates what their respective assignments would be in her absence. When I had reached my name on the list and read that I was to replace her since I knew everything about management and Mr. Song’s schedule, I was pretty much devastated. There was no definite time of when Mrs. Bae would return and that meant that I could be working as her replacement for a day, maybe a week, or even three years. I knew I would barely last one day by Mr. Song’s side, let alone three years. And, because this devastating news called for a cold jug of beer to drown my sorrows in, my poor best friend had been the one to suffer through a drunken night of me going off about my boss, calling him names and describing atrocious ways of how I would bring his demise forth if it were only legal.

But Sooyoung was a good friend, she’s been with me since fifth grade, and she sat through the night and giggled whenever I hiccupped or started speaking too loudly, to the point I had people turning our way as I cursed Mr. Song’s name. She was an angel and a sweetheart as she carried my heavy body home that night, giggling and snapping pictures when I told her I felt like throwing up and that I needed a breather. She called her boyfriend when she realized I wasn’t able to walk anymore, my high heels long abandoned and in my hands as the freezing ground was none of my concerns at that moment as my eyes bore into a billboard that had Mr. Song’s sharp face and sexy smirk displayed.

“You’re the devil!” I was sure my voice was loud enough to wake the whole neighbourhood as I stumbled to my feet, pointing a finger at the billboard as Sooyoung spoke on the phone, “I’m going to get you, Song Mingi!”

I huffed and glared at the man’s small and narrowed eyes, shivering when a cold breeze blew past us, “Don’t smirk at me, fucker.”

There was a loud giggle behind me and then the slam of a door and I heard my best friend pocket her phone as two sets of footsteps neared me, “You see that monstrosity? He picks his nose when he thinks nobody is watching, the fucker forgets to turn on the blurring effect to his windows, and I get to see him lazing around his office the whole day, meanwhile, I have to delete articles and call up journalists and beg them not to publish their next issue about how Song Mingi fucked four women and gave them chlamydia or whatever.”

I was sure my words came out jumbled and less clear than they sounded in my head, and I flinched when high-pitched laughter made my ears ring, way higher than Sooyoung’s had ever been. With my head spinning and bile rising in my throat, I swung around and narrowed my eyes at my best friend’s boyfriend. He laughed a lot, loudly mostly, and if I found it cute sober, I absolutely loathed it while drunk, “Shut up, fucker!”

“Or you’ll beat me up like you’ll beat up our boss?” He teased with a mischievous glint in his eyes and I snorted, pulling my shoulders back as I banged on my chest.

“I sure will!” I called loudly and the guy just started giggling again, meanwhile, Sooyoung just shook her head with an amused expression on her face.

“Let’s get her inside the car, Wooyoung, I don’t want her to catch a cold.”

“Why is she even so drunk?”

“Mrs. Bae is really sick and Y/N is to replace her.”

“Oh, so she’ll be finally working with Mr. Song directly?”

“Exactly.”

I groaned and bared my teeth at nothing in particular as Wooyoung and Sooyoung came up on both sides of me to hold me up and walk me towards Wooyoung’s running car, that fucker, he was an engineer at S. Industries and he was rich enough to afford himself a really nice car. A Mercedes-Benz, to be exact, thanks to the collaboration the two companies had going on. For once, I hoped Mr. Song’s project went terribly and I’d have to answer the calls with a smile on my face and then feign mock disappointment when I’d relay the message to Mr. Song. Surely the failure of one project wouldn’t bring the downfall of S. Industries.

“Well, Y/N, at least there’ll be a raise in the paycheck this month.” A particularly hard slap to my back had the bile in my throat rising until it wasn’t inside my mouth anymore at all, but on the sidewalk instead, as Wooyoung shrieked and Sooyoung just sighed, holding my hair back for me as I doubled over and violently emptied the contents of my stomach.

That whole ordeal was three days ago, on a Friday evening, when Mrs. Bae delivered the devastating news. Now, it was Monday and my muscles were tense and my teeth were gritting as I exited the metro and took the escalator, feet already aching from the blisters my other heels left on them. I seriously wanted to die, but Wooyoung was right for once in his life, I would at least get a raise for filling in for Mrs. Bae, but at what cost? The only joy I could find in the horrible day I had ahead of me was my iced caramel macchiato in my hands and the fact that the metro was right next to the building I used to love working at up until three days ago. Higher paycheck or not, I found myself wondering whether it was worth it if I had to work directly with Mr. Song.

I plastered on a smile despite my sour mood as I entered the intimidatingly tall building and greeted the receptionists, who apparently knew of my predicament as they sported matching looks of pity. If there were other women who didn’t fall for Mr. Song’s charming persona, excluding Mrs. Bae who was too old to entertain such a young boy and was busy scolding him whenever she could, then in the receptionists I knew I could trust. One of them had a bad run-in with Mr. Song and ever since the two stayed far away from him, sharing my displeasure whenever I came down to have lunch with them. They were sisters and foreigners, yet their knowledge of the language oftentimes surpassed mine, never failing to take me off guard as I watched them with a grin on my lips. They were both in college and apparently, a really pricey one if they resorted to working at S. Industries.

I scanned my badge at the entrance gate and nodded at the security guard, Chanyeol, who looked more like a club bouncer than a security guard at a high-tech company, closely surveyed and littered with cameras in every nook and cranny. The elevator ride up to the top floor was rather lacklustre and filled with silence beside the generic music coming through the speakers, and I basked in the ignorance the engineers exerted towards me, nothing out of the ordinary. But when they got off on their floor, I found myself fidgeting as I still had ten more floors up, turning around to check myself out in the huge mirror. It wasn’t even my first day here, yet I felt jittery and questioned my choice of clothing despite it being what I usually wore. A black pencil skirt that stuck to my frame uncomfortably paired with a white off-shoulder blouse that was tucked inside, a dainty belt bringing the look together nicely. My black high-heels weren’t as uncomfortable as the ones I had worn on Friday—they were still new—and I couldn’t wait to sit down and step out of them. I have pulled my hair in a bun and strategically pulled out front pieces that I curled, framing my face if I didn’t want to look like an egg due to the oval shape of my face. My makeup was soft and natural looking except for the red lipstick, and I found myself playing with the small cross pendant around my neck, waiting for the elevator doors to open as I reached the top floor.

The hall, my little office, Mr. Song’s huge office, and the small kitchen were all dark, signalling that I was the first one to arrive at work. Of course, that was no surprise as there were days when Mr. Song would come in just a few hours before it was time to go home for his employees, and then he’d usually find something faulty with everything, thus forcing everyone to stay after hours. I hoped today wasn’t a day like that because I was sure I’d end up fired by the evening, something I couldn’t afford as I had just moved to my new apartment and the rent was rather high, but the area was good and it was a lot closer to my job, so I couldn’t complain. I switched on the lights as I walked towards Mrs. Bae’s desk, now mine until she returned, and I hung my coat on the hanger, placing my purse on the floor just next to it. I powered on the desk computer and headed for the kitchen to prepare coffee for Mr. Song. I had decided to take this burden off Mrs. Bae’s shoulders back when I had joined the company, so I knew his preference by heart, unfortunately.

I watched the coffee machine with unfocused eyes as I ran through in my mind the schedule I had closely studied yesterday. Mr. Song had a meeting before lunch with the engineers about the prototype they were developing, which could take quite a few hours if he was in a pissy mood, and after lunch he had another meeting with the company they were collaborating with, and since that was out of our hands I couldn’t estimate the length of the meeting. Before his first meeting, however, I had to print the monthly expenses and bring them to him, and sometime along the day—preferably before lunch, was what Mrs. Bae’s note had said—I had to fix a date and time with a local magazine for an editorial shoot they had been discussing with my boss for months now. The thought made me roll my eyes and I switched the coffee machine off, grabbing the oat milk out of the fridge and brown sugar from the cupboard. The coffee was just a little above half of the cup and I filled it up with the milk, putting in five teaspoonfuls of sugar. I wondered whether Mr. Song would realize I had mixed up his milk on purpose while making his coffee—since he’s lactose intolerant—if I ever got the courage to sabotage my boss even if it was silly. But today wasn’t that day and I grabbed a tray and placed five cookies on a small plate before I placed both his coffee and the cookies on the tray. I would take them to his office and then print whatever he needed. If maybe I sneaked inside his office before he came in, then maybe I didn’t have to face him often as Mrs. Bae would communicate with him through the phone despite them being just a few steps away from each other, I intended on doing that too.

But my steps halted as I returned to the lobby, eyebrows furrowing as the glass to Mr. Song’s office was blurred and light poured outside from underneath the closed door. Oh, had he come in early? My eyebrows furrowed as I wondered whether I was hallucinating, had I been so lost in thought I didn’t hear the elevator, his footsteps, and the closing of the door? I could space out annoyingly well, so maybe that really was the case. I sighed and walked towards my desk, needing a second to gather my courage and steel my nerves as my eyes fell on the unlocked computer. So, Mr. Song not only came in earlier but he also unlocked Mrs. Bae’s computer before heading inside his office. That was rather confusing, and just when I had started wondering whether someone had broken in on our floor, I heard his unmistakable raspy and deep voice coming through the glass that separated us. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but it was Song Mingi, no doubt. Glancing at the door and then down at the computer, I decided that I didn’t want to enter his office twice today if it really wasn’t necessary so, I quickly printed the monthly expenses and bound them together after placing them in order. The numbers were so high that I struggled to read them correctly, but it wasn’t surprising, the company was huge and what they expertise in was even bigger.

I grabbed the papers and the tray into my hands, mindful of my steps as I headed for Mr. Song’s office door, taking a deep breath as I paused in front of it. He was still talking, probably on the phone, and I decided it was best I slipped in and out while he was distracted, so I knocked and went inside without waiting for his answer.

“Yes, I know.” His voice was harsh and tinged with annoyance as I veered my way around his office like an expert, having been inside too often. Who do you think cleaned up his mess and dusted off his shelves? Exactly, me because I couldn’t handle watching Mrs. Bae ruin her already aching back and knees, “Honestly? I don’t fucking care. I told you I couldn’t design it and produce it in a month, so is it really my fault that your superiors are blaming you now?”

I was curious what this was about, but I knew my place and not to snoop around, so I just headed for his desk hopeful that Mr. Song wouldn’t notice me as his chair was swivelled around to face the huge windows overlooking the bustling morning city, mist having settled in the distance where it was closer to the mountains. The view was beautiful from here and I often found myself gazing out the windows when I had to be inside Mr. Song’s office, wondering if I’d ever earn enough to live in a penthouse, it was wishful thinking but at least it made me more determined to work harder.

“Then deal with it.” Mr. Song snapped as I placed the tray on the desk, in its usual spot, and my eyes fell on the back of his head as he scoffed loudly, his fingers drumming against the armrest of the leather chair he sat in. He was so tall that even his massive chair couldn’t hide his form and my eyes stuck to his broad shoulders outlined by the shoulder pads of his black jacket before I snapped out of it and moved as quietly as possible to place the documents I had printed in the middle of the desk, “I’m not taking the blame for your incompetence, idiot, call me when you have a real reason to speak with me.”

Just as I had straightened up and took a step back, Mr. Song hung up and groaned as he threw his head back, eyes screwed shut as he groaned, “What a fucking idiot, he can’t even design his own gadget and then I’m at fault for prioritising real projects.”

Well, I was sure I wasn’t meant to hear his whining and inner monologue said out loud, so I took a tentative step backwards, praying he’d remain with his eyes closed and with his back turned so that I could slip out of his office before he’d even realize I was in there. For a man who regarded himself so highly, he lacked the skill of being aware of his surroundings at all times, something I didn’t mind for once. But my hopes were soon crushed as I stepped on something that made noise, eyes widening as I froze, watching as Mr. Song’s eyebrows furrowed for a second, “Ah, Joohyun, morning. Can you please call up—”

Of course, he’d call Mrs. Bae by her name without any regard to her age and accomplishments, I wasn’t even surprised he failed to respect the only person who remained stuck to his side in this company, vouching for him when nobody else did as few people liked the CEO. But his eyes opened and his words stuck in his throat as we made contact, albeit a little silly as his head had fallen off the headrest and he was looking at me cross-eyed. The speed with which he swivelled the chair around and fixed his posture should have been comical, but I knew what was coming and so I didn’t enjoy it. The slight worry and annoyance were gone from his face in the blink of an eye, replaced with a chilling arrogance and a self-assured smirk as his eyes very shamelessly ran all over my body, checking me out. I clenched my jaw and fixed my posture as well, plastering on the corporate smile that I wished conveyed the message of ‘fuck yourself, Song Mingi’, but it apparently didn’t as he intertwined his fingers and placed his elbows on the table to lean forward, tongue poking out to lick his lips.

“My, my, if only Joohyun looked anything like you, I’d come in early every morning.” His smirk only spread wider, eyes shining with a newfound resolve as he waited eagerly for a reaction, for anything. But it didn’t come as I remained impassive, eyes boring into his with nonchalance and coldness as I burned away on the inside, screaming and cursing at him in my mind. How dare he disrespect the lovely Mrs. Bae and disregard all her sacrifices made for his ungrateful ass just because I was young and relatively alright looking?!

“Mrs. Bae is sick and until she returns I will be replacing her, but I suppose you’ve been informed of the changes, sir.” I tried to keep my voice levelled so that I wouldn’t snap at him, but it was a little hard as he bit his bottom lip when I addressed him as ‘sir’. I didn’t want to think about it for even a second and I suppressed a sigh as he leaned back in his chair, legs spreading wide as he let his eyes run over my body again. Fucker, I hope he swallows his coffee wrong, maybe I should prepare his coffee with regular milk from now on, “The monthly expenses and payments that still have to be made are on the desk, sir, I have printed them as Mrs. Bae does.”

He glanced at the bound paperwork for a second before his lips pursed, eyes falling back on me. There was a slight change to his features, the quick glimmer of curiosity as he regarded me with inquiring eyes, but it was gone again as he rubbed his plump bottom lip with his forefinger, his hands littered with rings that were huge and somehow looked classy on him instead of making him look like a wannabe punk. For a CEO, he certainly wasn’t afraid to dress however he wanted while still being mindful that he was at his workplace. Sometimes he wore suits that highlighted his body and muscles in the right way, turning heads and having me throw him a second glance as he waltzed inside his office, and sometimes he wore outfits that you only saw on the runway, like today. His attire was all-black, non-conferring to society’s gender norms and unique in its way. He wore a blouse that seemed to fall a little lower on one shoulder, tucked inside pants that reached the floor with a skirt over them that reached just below his knees, his jacket cropped and with shoulder padding. The silver chains around his neck only added to the outfit and I couldn’t deny that he was quite the sight to look at with his black hair pushed back, and his undercut fresh. It made him look sharper, it defined his high cheekbones, and with his hair pushed back like that his eyes only became sharper and more intimidating.

“Trying to leave an impression on me already, huh?” His chuckle was mocking and laced with an undertone that almost had me marching up to him and punching the shit out of him, “It’ll take a few months before I can say whether you’re qualified for this job, sugar, newbies are great but they always fuck up, no offence.”

“None taken,” I grinned, trying to contain my rage and pride to lengthen my stay at the company, “I’ve been working here for four years, Mr. Song.”

He blinked once, then gulped, and then his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he took me in again, but finally not with lustful eyes but plain confusion as he probably tried to recall a time he’d seen me before. Instead of being offended that my own boss, the man I shared a floor with and crossed paths with in the hallway more than once, didn’t recognize me, I felt accomplished that I managed to dodge him for a complete four years. We’ve ridden the elevator together not once, but I huddled in the corner and always waited for him to get off first in order to stay out of his sight, I just couldn’t stand the man and it was obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes.

“Ah, perhaps if I hear your name…” He trailed off and then eyed his coffee, eyebrows twitching as his eyes lingered on them, hand reaching for a cookie reluctantly.

“Five teaspoonfuls of sugar and a quarter of oat milk, just the way you like it.” It actually felt freaking awesome seeing the confused and slightly taken aback expression on Mr. Song’s face, who knew I’d enjoy being in his presence for once, “And I’m Miss Jang.”

“Jang…?” He asked quickly but I just remained smiling, not about to tell him my name. He could look it up very easily with a search in the database, either way, if he was curious enough.

“I’m the secretary assistant, so don’t worry, I know everything I need to know.” I ignored his question and took a step towards the door, signalling that I was out of his office in the next five seconds, “Let’s both pray Mrs. Bae returns fast, I quite enjoy shadowing her.” Instead of having to face you, but I didn’t add that to my short speech.

Mr. Song’s eyes narrowed as he took in my retreating form and for a split second, I noticed annoyance on his features, making me feel victorious in a way I never imagined I could, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. She’s too stubborn to remain sick for long, she’ll be back soon, but until then I expect nothing but excellence from you, I would hate to fire you if you’ve been working for me for four years. Anyways, when’s my first meeting?”

“At eleven, sir.” I checked the time, two more hours until then.

“Good, call Miss Kim and tell her I have something to discuss with her.” He paused to grab his cup of coffee and I refrained from rolling my eyes at his theatrics, “Tell her to come as fast as possible and that we’ll talk in my office.”

Or fuck, is what he meant but didn’t say. I hummed in order to swallow the scoff that threatened to leave my lips and bowed my head just slightly, in the way I knew it was enough to be respectful but still not that much. But Mr. Song wasn’t looking at me anymore so he wouldn’t see, he was too busy flipping through the paperwork as he sipped his coffee. I gripped the handle of the door but paused in the doorway, eyes falling on the unwrapped and empty package of a condom I had stepped on just minutes ago, “I’m not cleaning that up too, pick it you yourself, Mr. Song.”

And when his head snapped up with a scowl, eyes following the direction I was pointing at, he scoffed loudly and gave me a sharp glare. I smiled in a way that I knew couldn’t outwardly be catalogued as a ‘fuck you’ smile, but it also made sure to convey that I wasn’t dumb nor his rag that he could throw around and find amusement in. Then, without waiting to be dismissed, I slipped through the door and walked towards my desk, a smirk making its way on my lips as I graciously sat in Mrs. Bae’s chair, swivelling closer to the desk as I went to raise my hand and flip my boss off, but suddenly, the blur from the windows was gone and I went rigid, hand already midway raised. Mingi’s arm was outstretched as he held the controller, eyes glaring and fixed on me as I scoffed and returned his fierce glare, picking up the central telephone to dial Miss Kim and ask her to come to Mr. Song’s office.

I guess today would be exhausting in all the different ways I didn’t think possible before.

            And I was right, it was exhausting in a way that had both my blood boiling and making me feel resigned as I was finally able to shut the computer off, the sun about to set any minute now. I had to stay for longer than expected as Mrs. Bae had a lot of workload, and without having an assistant to help out, I had to do it all on my own. I couldn’t complain about that as long as Mrs. Bae was healthy and up on her feet in the following ways, I would fill in for her and work even nights because I respected her and loved her a lot. She was a motherly figure and a good guide for both office-related and life-related things. I couldn’t wait to see her and hear her voice, already missing her dad jokes and shrill laughter. But perhaps what I missed the most was that she was the only one who could put Mr. Song in his place, something he desperately needed.

The blurry effect stayed off the windows the whole day and I felt Mr. Song’s sharp eyes on me more often than not, it was slowly driving me up the wall. I knew what he was playing at, he didn’t like my attitude towards him and he was trying to find reasons to get rid of me. But he couldn’t because I was trained by Mrs. Bae and I was damn good at my job, there was a reason why I survived four years at the company without working as an engineer or down at the lobby—Mr. Song rarely meddled with the lobby girls, and perhaps that was the only smart thing he was capable of doing. But now I had him on my back the whole day, making me uncomfortable as I sat in Mrs. Bae’s chair rigidly and with an aching back by how strained it was, fingers spasming from how much I had been typing away on the keyboard, and a crazy itch to finally go home. At least he wasn’t a complete ass and told me to get lunch while he was in the meeting, even handing me his card which I, obviously, declined. He had a peculiar look in his eyes that I couldn’t decipher, and then Wooyoung was up on our floor to fetch Mr. Song with a shit-eating grin on his lips.

“Ah, my favourite person in the whole wide world!” He had called loudly while Mr. Song was inside his office, door open, gathering paperwork, files, and the jacket he had discarded hours ago. My eyes narrowed at Wooyoung as I paused writing the email for the editorial photoshoot and leaned forward, raising my chin.

“Aren’t you supposed to be annoying your engineer friends?” I raised an eyebrow as Wooyoung’s grin only grew in size, “You seem to be lost, this isn’t your floor, Dr Jung.”

Wooyoung gave me a deadpanned look at the title I used as he leaned forward, resting his arms against the top part of the desk, “Don’t call me doctor at our workplace, dummy.”

“Don’t call me a dummy at our workplace.” I mocked Wooyoung and he glared at me before he stole a gummy bear out of the bowl placed there for our clients.

“Well, I see you’re doing just fine,” Wooyoung spoke while chewing, eyes running over the place, “The secretary role suits you; I should snap a picture for Sooyoung to see.”

“Don’t you dare.” I snapped and stood up to snatch the bowl of gummies when Wooyoung went to grab another one, “It’s for the clients, Wooyoung, and stop bothering Sooyoung while she’s at work. Besides, I already sent her a picture.”

“Of course you did.” He rolled his eyes and pouted as he swiftly leaned over the desk and managed to snatch a gummy still, making me gasp as my eyes widened, giving him a nasty look, “How’s working with your worst nightmare? Have you flipped him off already? Or have you cursed his name out in the bathroom? I bet you switched up his milk for a regular one like, you said you’d do—”

“Wooyoung, it’s nice seeing you on time for once.” Mr. Song’s sharp voice interrupted us, and I gave Wooyoung a warning look before I smoothed my skirt out and placed the bowl of gummies back in its place, “Although the blazer and your pants don’t match—”

“They do!” Wooyoung cut our boss off with a whine as Mr. Song came closer, “My fashion sense is better than yours.”

“You wish,” I muttered under my breath as I settled in the chair, thinking that it was quiet enough, but both men looked at me at the same time, making my eyes widen for a fraction of a second. Mr. Song’s impassive façade broke as he gave me a smirk, plump lips pursing as he let his eyes drop to my collarbones and explore my exposed shoulders due to my blouse. I fought back an eye roll and just sighed as I looked back at Wooyoung, “Tell Sooyoung when you see her that I might get off late, we’ll postpone our dinner for another day.”

“Yes!” Wooyoung fist bumped the air in glee and I fixed my glare on the side of his head as he eagerly took the files our boss was holding, “After Friday, I wouldn’t have survived another drunken dinner so soon. Imagine my poor ears having to listen to you whine about our—”

“Goodbye, Wooyoung.” I interrupted him with urgency, aware of the panic that coated my features as he snickered like the evil bastard he was, eyeing Song Mingi from the corner of his eyes as the man looked between us with curiosity written over his features. But then it was gone just as Wooyoung opened his mouth, Mr. Song was giving me a sharp look.

“Call Miss Kim and tell her there’s been a change to our plans, I’m busy tonight.” I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t his messenger, but as his secretary, I pretty much was. I nodded and pulled my chair closer to the desk, getting ready to finish the email when Mr. Song continued, “And get back to work.”

I bit my tongue to refrain from wishing him a lovely descent into hell, and I knew I wasn’t able to hide my irritated face well enough because Wooyoung snickered as Mr. Song took off towards the elevator, my best friend’s boyfriend lingering just behind him. He gave me a wink before he was right behind our boss, and I sighed as I got back to typing, catching the beginning of their conversation about some issues they’d run into while designing the new prototype. But other than that quick interaction, Mr. Song ignored me for the rest of the day minus the fact that he was spying on me from his office whenever he could, eyes boring into the side of my head and making me type just a little harsher than necessary.

But Mr. Song said something about being busy and not wanting to be bothered anymore half an hour ago, and after he closed and locked his door, the glass became all blurry and I understood the message: I was dismissed, I could finally head home—and head home I did, more eager than ever before. The metro was busy as most people were, similar to me, headed home and crowding the place. I stayed a decent distance away from the tracks and typed away on my phone as there was a commotion not too far from me. I didn’t react to it, used to the loudness and sometimes crazy people that came down to ride the metro. However, my dismissal quickly turned into alarm when there was a loud shout and a pained cry followed right after it and people ran left and right, knocking into me and almost sending me to the dirty ground. I stumbled and tightened my grip on my phone, not understanding the sudden hysteria until it was too late.

The crowd had cleared up enough so that the scene was visible to me, and I gasped as a woman lay on the ground, clutching her side as blood pooled underneath her. Despite living in a big city where crime was inevitable, I had never come across a scene like this and I felt frozen, terrified, and all of a sudden too dumb to do anything. People were screaming around us, mostly male voices demanding something, but my eyes remained fixated on the crying woman as her hands trembled and sobs echoed despite the loud commotion. Someone next to me was calling the ambulance and cops, at least five men surrounded the wounded woman and screamed at someone that I still couldn’t see, and just when somebody shoved me and told me to get away, I snapped out of it, but it was too late. A calloused hand was wrapped around my throat as cold metal pressed against my throat, already wet and dripping red with blood from the aggressor’s previous attack.

“Don’t make me do it!” The man screamed at the top of his lungs as I was rendered frozen, heart beating out of my chest and breath stilled in my throat, “Don’t make me kill her too!”

I went even more rigid, if possible, body shaking from fear as I remained silent, eyes darting around the place and silently crying out for help with my eyes, “Listen, we can settle this, no need to harm her too.”

“You’ll immobilise me if I let her go,” The man’s voice that held me captive thundered over my head and I tried to gulp but was afraid the movement would make the blade cut into my skin, “I’m not going to jail. She had it coming, she was a cheating bitch!”

“Alright, we get it, man!” A man that was crouched next to the wailing woman snapped, eyes burning with passion as he turned to face us, “You got what you wanted, the woman you’re holding right now is innocent, let her go.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” At the shout and jerk of my captor’s body, I whimpered and grabbed onto his sleeve as I felt the cold blade press much harder into my skin, making my lips tremble as I fought back tears. I tried to pull the man’s arm away, desperately so, but he was relatively stronger, “Stop moving around, bitch, if you don’t want to die!”

I was breathing hard by now, trying to keep it together, but I was failing as my vision became blurred by tears that I tried to hold in. I could hear sirens in the distance and the people around the woman fussed about as they tried to stop her bleeding, but it didn’t seem to help. I wished someone would snatch me away from the psycho holding me and save me, but I knew the bleeding woman needed the help more than I did—unless I was injured too, who knew, maybe I’d never get to see tomorrow. The thought was frightening and I gulped down another whimper as the man's fingers dug into my shoulder as he kept me pressed against himself, he was breathing even harder than I was, his chest moving up and down quickly against my back.

“Listen, the woman you’re holding right now did nothing to you.” Another person tried to reason, a soft-spoken boy who was crouched right in front of the injured woman, hands bloody and eyes hardened, “She’s a complete stranger to you, she doesn’t even know who you are. If you want another person’s blood on your hands and a lifetime sentence, then by all means, go ahead and kill her too.”

I went to protest with a whine, but I felt the man’s grip loosen after a few seconds as he cursed under his breath. I was shaking, still clutching my purse in both of my hands as I had dropped the one holding onto the man’s arm out of fear of agitating him even more. Gasps could be heard above us, where the entrance of the metro was, and suddenly a peculiar sound filled the space. It sounded mechanical but not quite, hard and scraping like metal, and it was loud. The sirens were even louder now and I knew help was close by, I could only hope it came before I suffered any serious injuries. My heart was thumping so fast I was sure the artery in my neck was pulsating too, just the more inviting to be slashed or stabbed. The thought made me shudder and just as I was about to open my mouth and plead for my life too, something red and robot-like descended only a few feet away from us. Everyone gasped and murmured, my own eyes widened as I stared at the robot-like red machine, all armour and menacing looking from up close.

I had only seen Iron Man on TV, and suddenly, everything I had heard about the anonymous superhero seemed to be true. The person behind the iron armour was tall with wide shoulders and narrow hips as the costume moulded onto his body perfectly, and the person’s face was concealed by a mask that never came off, teasing the public of who could bear it. Despite knowing that the person behind the mask had no mal-intention and was here to rather save me, I couldn’t help but watch it with doubtful eyes, intimidated by the loomingly tall body and firm structure of the costume. There was a collective moment of pure silence, everyone holding their breaths as they waited for Iron Man to do something. The man holding me cursed loudly this time and I gasped as my eyes widened, his knife digging into my skin so that it scrapped my skin. I bit my bottom lip and tried to refrain from crying despite every particle of my body crying out in desperation to be freed and finally saved.

“Well, what do we have here, huh?” The superhero’s voice sounded somewhat robotic, but it wasn’t hard to make out that the person’s voice was grave, deep, and rather sharp as he spoke, “Terrorizing innocent women at the metro, is that a new hobby of yours? Did your mother not love you enough or what?”

“Shut up!” The man screamed and made me flinch as it made my ears ring, and suddenly I doubted that Iron Man was here to save the day. Why in hell would he be antagonizing an armed man holding a hostage?! I hoped the superhero could see my glare as I blinked my tears away, suddenly my terror blending together with anger due to nobody doing anything to help me, “What the fuck do you know about love, you iron fucker?!”

The armoured man chuckled and it was raspy almost, “I don’t fuck iron, but my costume is made of iron, hence the name—”

“Cut the attitude!” The man hissed and I gulped, fidgeting around and reaching inside my purse to see whether I had anything on me to use as a weapon to free myself since nobody was doing anything real to help me, “I’ll kill this bitch!”

“Don’t call her a bitch, you lowlife.” Iron Man snapped with irritation and I paused, eyes boring into the mask where its eyes were. At least Iron Man seemed to be a decent man when he wasn’t mocking and teasing the criminal, “Now, I’ll tell you how this goes—”

“Just shut the fuck up—”

“If you interrupt me one more time, I’ll blast off your face, dude.” The patience of Iron Man seemed to have snapped all at once as he raised his arm, something blue glowing in the middle of the iron palm. It didn’t look friendly nor like it wouldn’t hurt as it twisted and turned, accumulating more and more energy, “Like I was saying, this can go two ways. You release her and I take you to the officers without unnecessary injuries or you keep being foolish and I’m forced to take you down to free her, which are you choosing?”

“Fuck yourself!” The man turned his head and spat on the ground, making my face scrunch up in disgust as my body continued to tremble, wondering how Iron Man could hurt my captor without hurting me in the process as well. Certainly, whatever thing he meant to blast at the man wasn’t smart enough to go around me or dodge me, no matter how I tried looking at the situation, neither looked like I would get out of this unscathed. But if my hope in the superhero faded, it returned when the cops and paramedics finally showed up, spilling down the stairs, the cops pointing their guns at me and the man as the medics ran to the injured woman to help her and take her away to the nearest hospital. I gulped, counting the seven officers as they closed in on us, stopping just behind Iron Man as they assessed the situation.

“Sir.” The captain addressed Iron Man and the superhero ignored him besides the small nod of his head, “We’ll handle it from here.”

“How?” Iron Man chuckled, apparently amused meanwhile I was seriously on the verge of bursting out in tears. I’ve never had so many weapons pointed at me and I didn’t know how to react other than prepare for the pain the bullets would probably leave, “By harming her too?”

The captain said nothing as he sent the superhero a sharp stare, then faced me with a reassuring smile on his face, “Do not worry, ma’am, we’ll get you just in a second.”

“Cut the crap.” I hissed, surprising everyone—even my captor—as my body shook and my voice was laced with fear and annoyance. I wasn’t a child they could fool that everyone would be alright, I was conscious that they’d have to hurt me in order to take down the man holding me, “Just do your job.”

The paramedics rushed the woman above ground, probably to an ambulance, and I wished for nothing more than to be free and sitting in an ambulance where they’d check for my injuries, hopefully not too many.

“Sir, you’ll have to drop the knife if you don’t want to—”

“Mr. S!” A boyish and excited voice called out from behind us and I sighed, mind too tired to keep up with everything that was happening. Just who was this new person and why was nobody doing anything to help me?! But almost as if the newcomer was a mind reader, he called out again, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it!”

And then everything happened at once, there was web on the man’s wrist that held the knife to my throat, and then it was yanked away, finally letting me breathe without the fear of cutting myself accidentally, and I was shoved really hard. I stumbled as my legs had gone numb, and I was sure I would crash to the ground with a loud and painful thud, but it never happened. What I did crash into was cold and hard, but it wasn’t anything like the ground. It was sturdy under my grip as I gasped and gripped onto the iron shoulders of the man, and suddenly, I craved a warm body and some fabric my fingers could dig into for comfort. My chest rose and fell so quickly I became lightheaded as I clung to the superhero with desperation, legs going jelly as he had to hold me up, “It’s fine, you’re fine. You’re safe, Miss Jang, I’ve got you.”

A sob left my throat but no tears fell from my eyes as the police officers were shouting around us, only making my panic rise as I forced my eyes shut, telling myself that if I couldn’t see then it wasn’t real. Iron Man tsked and grumbled something intangible before I felt a metallic arm underneath my knees, the other holding me up by my torso, and then I was lifted into the air bridal style and taken away from the scene of the policemen arresting my captor. I tried to reassure myself that everything was fine and that I was safe, but the lack of warm skin and a face I could associate with my saviour only made me more jittery and uncomfortable. Iron Man seemed to realize this as my muscles were tense to the point they were aching, and so, he sat me down on the stairs and tucked me away from the eyes of the world as everyone rushed around us. He stood in a way that he obscured the world for me and I was grateful as I could finally breathe. I held my head in my hands and brought my knees up to my chest, pressing my forehead against my knees, “I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s over.”

I whispered over and over until my brain finally believed what it was hearing and my muscles relaxed just a little bit, but the trembling never went away. I knew I told Wooyoung to tell Sooyoung I wouldn’t go over for dinner tonight, but I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep alone in my apartment tonight.

“Are you hurt?” Iron Man asked as he remained standing, and I gulped and licked my lips, which had become painfully dry in the span of a few minutes.

“No,” I muttered, keeping my eyes closed, “he probably scratched me, but I’m fine.”

“Good, you’re safe.”

“I know.”

My whisper was drowned out by the loud voices of the journalists who made their way down to get the last-minute news just as the cops escorted the man up the stairs. I knew I had to leave a statement and that I would be probably called to the station, but all I wanted to do was get to Sooyoung’s place and soak in a bath until it was time to go to sleep.

“Hey, Mr. Son—I mean, Iron Man!” The same boyish voice that apparently actually saved me from my captor was loud and made me cringe as I raised my head and blinked my eyes open.

“Stop yelling, idiot.” Iron Man hissed and held the man, Spiderman, back by the shoulder as he skipped over to us.

“Oh, sorry.” His voice was slightly distorted, but it was obvious he felt sorry as the eyes of his mask blinked, freaking me out even more than Iron Man’s cold costume. I was very aware that I lived in the same city as certain superheroes, but encountering them felt weird, and if I was being honest, I wasn’t much of a fan. I much preferred seeing them on the news and in newspapers. Spiderman, who sounded way too young even with his voice distorted, seemed to be just as tall as Iron Man, if not taller, and he was lean but muscular. It came as no surprise since he crawled around buildings and hopped around in the sky, hanging off his web—you needed some serious muscles for that, “I didn’t mean to startle you, are you both alright?”

“Yes, not even a scratch—”

“I was scratched.” I snapped as I looked up at the two, hugging my knees close to my chest still. Spiderman’s mask blinked again and I averted my eyes as it made my skin crawl, “But I’m alright, thank you for saving me, Spiderman.”

“Spiderman?!” The iron-clad superhero asked with an edge to his voice, almost as if he was pissed off, “I was the one to come to your rescue first—”

“And yet it was Spiderman who actually did something to save me,” I hissed, utterly spent and pissed off now that I wasn’t held at knifepoint anymore, “All you did was chat away and mock the man, endangering my life even more.”

Silence followed my harsh words but I couldn’t care less as I saw a paramedic with kind eyes and a kind smile approach us carefully, greeting the superheroes meekly, “Miss, we will have to check up on you too now.”

“I’m fine though,” I muttered and tried to stand up but found little to no power in my legs, before I could stumble, Iron Man was by my side and helping me up. I looked up at the iron mask and said nothing as I still felt disdain towards the person behind the mask.

“You don’t look fine, Miss Jang.” I huffed and allowed the superhero to help me stand until the paramedic came to my aid, holding me up as the two superheroes followed us up the stairs.

“Should I carry you, ma’am?” Spiderman asked with worry, “You’re a bit pale, I can carry you if you want me to, I know I look scrawny but I’m actually really strong!”

“I carried her just fine before, do you need assistance?” Iron Man huffed and turned his head sharply towards Spiderman as the two men walked on each side of me and the paramedic. My body was still shaking so it was a little hard to coordinate my legs, but with the help of the paramedic, I was managing just fine, except for the violent thumping of my head and the haze that followed my vision.

“What I need is you two shutting up,” As an afterthought since they did save my life, I added, “Please.”

“Sure, ma’am, but just let me know if anything’s wrong, I can—”

“Shut up.” Iron Man groaned loudly, and the paramedic snickered as if a situation like this one was something anything out of the ordinary to him.

“Yes, Mr. Son—uh, Iron Man! I mean, Iron Man, sorry sir, I’ll shut up now.” Spiderman’s voice was defeated and a little tight, and I could swear Iron Man muttered a threat under his breath, but once we were up on the surface and all the hustle and bustle of the city hit me, I felt faint. Dangerously faint as I squinted my eyes, the swirling red and blue lights of the ambulance and cop cars blinding me for a second.

“Alright, you can sit in the ambulance and I’ll do a quick check-up.” The paramedic let me know as Spiderman eagerly opened the back of the ambulance and helped the paramedic walk me up and onto the bed, “Do you have anyone we can call to take you home?”

“Park Sooyoung,” I heaved a sigh and opened my purse, “If she doesn’t pick up, then Jung Wooyoung.”

“Oh, that’s—”

“Shut up!” I flinched at Iron Man’s harsh tone as he yanked Spiderman by the collar all up in his face, shaking the younger-sounding boy as he just chuckled awkwardly and scratched the back of his head.

“Sorry, Mr. S.”

The paramedic snickered again and I handed him over my phone as he grabbed his little light to flash my eyes and momentarily blind me, “So, because it’s protocol, I’m going to ask how you feel again. Anything that’s changed now that we’re above ground?”

“No, nothing, I’m feeling fine.”

And then, the whole world went dark.

            I stared at the screen of my phone, I actually had been for a few good minutes now, but my brain didn’t register the words. Sooyoung was asking if I was up to grab a quick lunch with her, of course, if my oh-so-lovely boss allowed it, but I was way too distracted by said boss’ deep voice speaking in a hushed tone coming from the kitchen. It’s been three days since the whole metro fiasco and I had been down at the police station, gave them my statement, and I would be probably called in as a witness once the court date is set—that fucker isn’t getting out of jail after he tried to kill his girlfriend, I wouldn’t allow it.

People looked at me weirdly and I heard them whispering behind my back whenever I walked down the hallways as, of course, that idiot of a Wooyoung had run his mouth and now the whole company knew that I almost died—his words, not mine. A quick session with the company’s therapist had her convinced that I was alright and needed no further sessions despite my initial disdain to even go to one because I knew I was fine. Of course, I was a little jumpier and avoided the metro even if it took longer to get to work and then home, but until my mind would fully accept that it was a freak accident and that I was at the right place at the wrong time, I couldn’t help but indulge to the small voice of fear at the back of my mind. Sooyoung has been kinder than usual, offering up her spacious couch if I felt like crashing over at her place, but quite frankly, since Wooyoung was almost always over I preferred the quiet of my own apartment, even if I had to triple-check that I locked the front door before I went to sleep.

I was fine, I really was—and this isn’t me trying to convince myself—it’s been three days after all, and to be frank, the fact that these so-called superheroes actually do their job was another comforting thought. Well, Spiderman at least does, can’t say much about Iron Man. The only ‘help’ he offered was to stall and distract my captor, something me and the other on-lookers were managing just fine on our own too. But still, I felt a little bit of gratitude for the iron-clad superhero too for holding me and reassuring me when my brain was fogged up with terror and conviction that I was going to die. But now, three days later, things that seemed insignificant at the moment came back in flashes that had me questioning myself whether it was a fragment of my imagination or it truly had been said.

The first and biggest issue that seemed to concern me was the fact that Iron Man seemed to know my name when it wasn’t said or mentioned at the scene at all. It didn’t even occur to me at that moment as I was too wrapped up in the fact that a knife no longer put my life at risk, and even welcomed the familiarity and reassurance the superhero brought with his words. But now that I was conscious and no longer ridden with fear, I was thoroughly confused. I knew nobody had uttered my name, not even me, so just how was it possible that the iron-clad man had known it? Did superheroes have mind-reading powers too, or was it just common knowledge that Iron Man knew these sorts of things? Had I been hallucinating? But that couldn’t be either because I was sure he had said it twice, that must’ve meant something. Like the fact that I wasn’t hallucinating.

And then, not because I associate and compare all assholes to my boss, but the way Iron Man mocked my captor sounded a lot similar to the way Song Mingi would talk down on his employees, sneer on his face as arrogancy laced his tone. The voice modulator Iron Man used made it harder to assess any emotion in his tone, but I was sure I have heard a tinge of cockiness in it when he was busy mocking the man instead of saving me from him. It was a far-fetched reach, I knew it, but there was also this gut feeling that told me to trust myself and roll with the delusion. And my intuition had never been wrong before.

The third reason that it all seemed a little suspicious to me—completely aware that this was a relative fact and any man could have the physique of my boss—it still made me search up photos of Iron Man that had been taken on a whim for magazines to compare to those editorial shots Song Mingi enjoyed doing. It was a match, their shoulders wide and broad, hips narrow, creating the perfect inverted triangle shape that so many people went crazy over. Their heights seemed to be a match too, both tall intimidatingly so. I read through forums to see what others who had encountered the superhero had to say, and I wasn’t surprised to find out that they were rather condescending about him. Apparently, he liked to talk a lot before he got to do the saving, and it put other’s lives more in danger, sometimes resulting in grave injuries. He spoke like he ruled the whole world and everyone else had to bow down to him, and he oftentimes after saving the victims disregarded them and told them to go on their merry way and be more mindful next time, as if it was their fault that they had fallen victims in the first place.

And lastly, because perhaps it was the most pressing issue after the fact that Iron Man knew my name, it was the certainty that Spiderman seemed to be familiar enough with the other superhero to know his identity and address him by his name. Now, Iron Man stopped the other one each time from saying his name fully, but I had caught the little he had said, and ever since I had been thinking. I have heard others at the workplace address Song Mingi as ‘Mr. S’ more than once, even Wooyoung liked to call him that—and truly, ‘Mr. Son’ could be just an abbreviation for Mr. Song Mingi. I knew I sounded crazy to most, at least to Sooyoung definitely as she laughed when I told her my crazy theory, she didn’t understand why out of all the people I suspected my boss. Well, to be fair, I had no reason for that, but given the fact that the superhero showed up quickly to the scene, it was a real possibility. Even Spiderman and the police took longer, the company was right by the metro and Mr. Song specifically told me to go home as he wished to be alone.

Plus, because I knew Sooyoung would still consider me crazy, I told her about the fact that one time when I had been cleaning my boss’ office I discovered a hidden entry while I tried to move a decorative piece on the bookshelf. It looked like some classic villain shit at that time, but I said nothing about it to no one as I was rather complacent about keeping my job—I was still relatively new at the company. Sooyoung just laughed it off and told me that he probably had a vault in there for all the money and worthy items he owned. In fairness, it sounded plausible if my brain hadn’t decided to be suspicious of Song Mingi’s identity.

I had been devising a plan for the past two days, wondering about ways I could find out the superhero’s identity, or how I could catch my boss red-handed, but nothing was smart or subtle enough. He’d be able to trace it back to me and then all of my hard work at this company would go to waste, I didn’t want that. However, before I could start dwelling more on this, I was snapped out of my thoughts as Mr. Song’s voice carried closer to me.

“No, I told you not to come here—” Then he cut himself off with a groan, and I quickly straightened up in my chair as Mr. Song rounded the corner, the light in the kitchen switching off behind him. If he was good at something, even I couldn’t deny that it was the artificial intelligence he developed and then implemented in the whole building, “I’m not paying for your lunch again, Yunho.”

Gripping my phone a little tighter as I still had to text Sooyoung back, I allowed my eyes to rest on my boss as I took in his form, trying to recall Iron Man’s too at the same time. Mr. Song wore a suit today, all black and extremely form-fitting, with his black hair pushed back, showing off the undercut he thought made him look hotter. His vest expanded over his chest and became narrow at his waist, however, when he turned his back to me, I noticed that he had it pinched in so that it would cling to his hips instead of hanging freely and comfortably. I knew he was a man full of himself, but it was extremely infuriating that he knew how hot he was and he wasn’t ashamed to show it off too, “I told you I’m busy, kid, I can’t just free up my schedule whenever your devices go to shit.”

I flinched when Mr. Song suddenly turned, narrowed eyes landing on me as I turned my head and looked down at the computer, pretending to type away on it as I placed my phone next to the mousepad. My boss continued watching me and I tried not to peek at him, unusual to see him wear his thick glasses. Mrs. Bae had told me that he much preferred contacts and that we’d need to order new ones for him from time to time, so it made me fidgety as I wondered whether amidst my workload I had forgotten to order him some new ones, “Yunho, you’re a big boy, take care of it yourself.”

And then he rudely hung up as I could hear the other person still speaking on the other end. Mr. Song groaned loudly and my muscles tensed when he approached my desk, coming way too close for comfort. He leaned his hip against the side of it and crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking down at me. I tried not to scowl as I fixed my posture and read through the email that just made it into the inbox.

“Slacking off already?” Mr. Song mused, voice impassive, “It’s barely your fourth day.”

I remained silent and opened the email instead, skimming through it. The magazine for the editorial shoot has proposed a date and time, so, I turned my head and looked at my boss with a bored look on my face, “Is Wednesday next week good for the editorial shoot?”

“I don’t know,” He scoffed, a smirk pulling onto his lips, “You’re my secretary, you’re the one that knows my schedule.”

My jaw clenched as I stared into his sharp eyes for a second longer, hoping that he’d see I wasn’t impressed by his jabs, “Your Wednesday is free, sir, that’s why I’m asking. It so seems most of your schedules depend on whether you’re in a good mood or not, sir.”

I smiled sweetly as Mr. Song’s eyes narrowed just a little, and then he bent down, his face coming too close for my comfort, “How attentive of you. Tell them I’m only available at noon for two hours, and you’re coming too.”

“I’m doing what?” I asked alarmed, eyes widening, “Mrs. Bae never had to go with you—”

“But you’re not Mrs. Bae, are you?” I wished to punch the smirk off his face as his eyes once again took me in closely, travelling lower on my body before they stopped on my lips, making my heart beat just a bit quicker, “So free up your own schedule and dress in something sexy, can’t have you looking like a grandma if you’re to be seen in public with me.”

I couldn’t help but gape at his blatant disrespect, palms turning into fists as I turned my chair to face him better, disgusted and irritated as I tried to remain level-headed, “Since it’s my closet and my body, I’ll dress in whatever I find fit and comfortable for such occasion, Mr. Song, thank you for the recommendation though.”

“It was an order, not a recommendation.” Mr. Song’s smirk widened and my blood boiled as it was clear as day that he was enjoying the exchange, that he was having fun that I was getting heated over this, “I can buy you something pretty, Miss Jang, if that’s the issue.”

I stood up, unable to control myself as I glared my boss down despite him being obviously taller than me, “I don’t need you to buy me anything and I won’t have you order me around unless it’s strictly work-related. Just because your name is Song Mingi and you’re rich and can have anything and anyone, don’t think I won’t hurl your ass to court for breaching the contract and for trying to exploit your employees. I’m not your pet, Song.”

All amusement and arrogance left Mr. Song’s face as his expression turned cold, his sharp eyes running over my features before he hummed, rubbing his bottom lip as his glasses slipped lower on his tall nose, “Sweet, Miss Jang, perhaps then you can cancel the lunch with Mr. Park I should be leaving for right now, something more important came up. I assume you can do this much since it’s work-related.”

I gritted my teeth and exhaled, letting my features relax as I plastered on my generic smile and bowed my head just slightly, “Sure, Mr. Song, anything else?”

He took a second as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose then smoothed out his vest, leaning incredibly close so that I would hear his low voice, “The celebratory party for our collaboration with the car brand is this Saturday, I assume you know most employees are invited. You weren’t since it was Mrs. Bae supposed to come, but since you’re replacing her, I’ll be expecting to see you. Jongho will pick you up half an hour before the event.”

My mouth fell open as Mr. Song hummed and cast me one last glance before he turned and headed for his office, my mind reeling at what just happened. Jongho was his personal driver and assistant, he was almost always at his side when the two were out and about as he also served as Mr. Song’s bodyguard. I tried to form some coherent words and refuse the weird proposition, but Mr. Song was already inside his office, however, he left his door open again. My eyebrows furrowed as I settled back down in my chair, nose picking up on a sweet but musky scent that never failed to invade my nose whenever I went inside my boss’ office. It was the cologne he had been using ever since I got to know him, and my eyebrows furrowed as the elevator suddenly dinged, signalling that someone had come up to our floor. Coming to think of it, despite the metal and the obvious smell of iron, something sweet and musky clung just faintly to Iron Man’s costume the day he had saved me.

“Hi!” I flinched at the excited and loud voice, shaking my head to clear the thoughts away as I looked up. I was surprised to see a teenager standing in front of my desk, eyes round and smile brighter than my future as his puffy cheeks were tinged slightly red. He had a scarf around his neck that hid his chin and lips and he pulled his beanie off, ruffling his greenish-bluish-greyish hair, “My name is Yunho! I’m here to see Mr. S.”

“Uhm,” My eyebrows furrowed as I looked down at my computer to quickly run through Mr. Song’s schedule, “Yunho and…?”

“Jeong, Jeong Yunho, ma’am.” He answered, tone warm and soft and yet boyish at the same time as he rocked back and forth on his heels. I scanned through the schedule but his name didn’t pop up.

“Well, I don’t see you in here, Mr. Jeong.” I pursed my lips remembering Mr. Song’s orders and what I managed to eavesdrop on while he was on the phone, “But he did cancel an important lunch, were you just on the phone with him?”

“Yeah, some of my—uh, devices for school broke and I need Mr. Song’s help.” The young boy tried with a tentative smile and I hummed in acknowledgement, eyeing him curiously. But before I could tell him that I needed to check with Mr. Song first, the man appeared in the doorway and sighed loudly.

“Come on, Yunho, I don’t have all day just because you decided to parade your girlfriend around the city and broke it again.” Mr. Song deadpanned, but I was surprised to see fondness in his eyes as Yunho grinned widely, darting towards my boss after he gave me a cute wave, “Miss Jang, you can go have lunch, we’ll be busy for an hour or so, take your time.”

“Oh, Miss Jang, that’s why—” Yunho’s eyes widened as if in recognition, and I watched him with confusion as Mr. Song slapped a hand over his mouth and yanked the boy who was slightly taller than him inside his office, door slamming closed behind them, “I didn’t know she worked for you—”

“Shut up.”

And just like that, my suspicion of their identity intensified. Could Song Mingi actually be Iron Man? I didn’t know yet, but I was convinced to find out, and a brilliant idea just came to mind. I grabbed my phone and texted Sooyoung that I was too busy to have lunch today and left for the security room of our building. Call me crazy but my gut feeling was never wrong.

            However, there was a single flaw in my plan. How in the hell was I going to execute it without raising suspicions? But it was too late to dwell on that as I had already knocked on the door and was waiting for the security guy to open it. Chewing on my bottom lip, I wondered which lie would be more believable, and just as I debated on wringing Wooyoung into it too, the door opened. Thankfully it wasn’t Chanyeol as he’d be able to tell my bullshit from miles away, so I smiled cheerily and hoped the middle-aged security guard would fall for my lie.

“Hello, I’m Jang Y/N, I’m Mr. Song’s secretary assistant.” I handed my badge to the security guard and he grunted as he looked over it, handing it back to me, “I was wondering if you could let me take a peek at the security footage. My car was scratched yesterday and I’d like to see who did it since they didn’t bother leaving a note on my windshield.”

I tried my best to look disheartened but also slightly annoyed. The security guard froze for a second and then glanced behind himself, “Uh, I mean, I can look at it for you, just give me the car model and license plate.”

Fuck, that’s not how this was supposed to go. I bit my bottom lip and tried to improvise before the guard caught onto me, “You see…my ex works here too and I am pretty sure it was him. We weren’t able to settle things nicely and I know he’s still got a vendetta for me. I would hate to make this difficult for you, but I’ve got a restraining order pending and I would need the footage like…right now, you know? I can film it with my phone and later on get it emailed, but my lawyer is expecting it today if it actually was my ex.”

I almost grinned at how put-together and real my lie sounded, proud of myself. The guard’s face fell and I tried to school my expression into something like sadness and worry as he sighed, looking behind himself, “Fine, come in.”

I offered him a thankful smile and followed him inside, bowing at the other security guards as they gave us curious looks but greeted me back wordlessly. The guard led me to a different room littered with monitors and I stopped behind the chair he sat in, eyebrows furrowed as he opened a new window and typed in a code I couldn’t see as it was protected from view, “This was yesterday? When?”

“Well,” I fiddled with my fingers and tried to rake my brain for the time Wooyoung left work, “maybe around six or seven in the evening?”

“You stay a lot for someone who’s Mr. Song’s secretary assistant.” The guard made small talk as he typed in some more codes and opened up the app.

“His secretary is sick so I’m replacing her for the time being, there’s a lot of work,” I explained and he hummed, nodding his head in understanding.

“When I don’t have the overnight shift, I also spend my whole day here,” He didn’t sound as bothered as I expected him to be, “The company is huge so we must work hard to keep it going, Mr. Song appreciates us and treats us well after all.”

Well, I didn’t want to crush the false image he had of our boss, but the guard was a man and after all, Song Mingi treated his male employees a lot better and with more respect than his female ones. Besides, I bet he barely came in contact with any of his security guards—besides Chanyeol, I suppose—so of course they’d have a positive image of their boss.

“Right, you’re right,” I answered absentmindedly and watched the guard click onto the screen that looked over the garage, clicking some more to rewind the footage to yesterday.

“What car are we looking at?” He asked and I almost groaned, trying to remember the model of Wooyoung’s car.

“It’s a Mercedes-Benz, the newer type.” The guard paused and gave me a look over his shoulder, “Sorry, my ex is part of the engineering team who are developing the new prototype, and I never bothered asking for the model’s name but I’ll know when I see it!”

“I see.” The man muttered and clicked some more and there it was, the footage of Wooyoung’s car but he was nowhere in sight yet, “I’ll speed it up since you don’t know the exact time, tell me when you see him.”

“Thank you.” I gave him a wide smile and the guard grunted as he pressed play, people and cars moved quickly on the screen, but not so quickly that we wouldn’t be able to recognize them. However, this is where the issue of not having a well-thought-out plan came into play. I had no idea how to get the guard to show me footage of Mr. Song’s office, and I was also sure he’d never show it to me and would even get me fired. I tried to think hard of a way just as I spotted Wooyoung headed towards his car, I sighed but spoke up, “That’s him!”

The guard stopped the video to slow it down to regular speed, and then pressed play again, making me chew on my bottom lip and wonder whether I’d be fired if I knocked him out right now. There must be cameras inside this place too and just to make sure, I looked up towards the corner and saw the blinking red light of the CCTV. I sighed but focused back on the screen just as the guard’s phone rang. He cursed as he looked down at his phone and then paused the footage, swivelling around in his chair.

“I have to take this call; it’ll take a few minutes.” He said as he stood and hurried towards the door, “I’ll be back and then we can have a look at the footage together.”

“Sure, take your time!” I grinned at him and waved him off as he quickly left, accepting the call before the door was even closed behind him. Bingo, this was my time to shine. I waited for the guard’s voice to fade into the background and to make sure that no other guard came onside, and then I took my spot in the chair and swivelled closer to the screens. It took me a second to realize how to switch between the many screens, but having paid attention to the guard I realized that it was easier to moderate the system than I initially thought. I clicked on the window that had Mr. Song’s office and squinted my eyes as I watched him and Yunho huddled together at his desk, things pushed to the side as they both were leaning over something. I searched the screen for something that would make the image larger and grinned when I spotted the emoticon, clicking on it quickly as I was curious to see what got the two men so concerned.

Something small, a device as they had called it, was placed on the desk as they crowded around it, lips moving as they spoke to each other. The younger boy had disregarded his backpack, coat, scarf and beanie on the leather sofa and seemed rather comfortable despite this being the first time I saw the two together. But based on Mr. Song’s body language and the way he spoke to him, I knew the two were familiar with each other. A little intrigued myself by that little device, I found myself curiously watching the footage, a yelp almost leaving my mouth when the two men sprung back as something wet exploded out of it. It covered the two in a sticky-like substance and I watched amazed as Mr. Song’s rigid expression melted into that of amusement as Yunho’s head was thrown back, body shaking from his laughter. It only took another second before Mr. Song was also laughing, pulling his glasses off and nudging Yunho as the taller one clung to my boss and threw more of that weird substance at Mr. Song. I had never seen my boss so laid back and happy so it took me a second to snap out of it and stop admiring his crooked smile through the CCTV, subsequently remembering why I was here.

Adrenaline rushed through my system as I realized the guard could be back anytime and catch me red-handed, surely I’d be fired with a case on my hands then, and despite Song Mingi being a nightmare, the paycheck and people working here were too good for me to want to actually leave this company. So, I found the option that allowed me to rewind the footage, only to get my hopes crushed when it asked for a code. I bit my bottom lip and tried to recall the numbers the guard had typed in since I took a peek at the keyboard, but it was fruitless. I found myself slightly panicking and pulling at the collar of my blue striped shirt, the chain of my badge brushing against my hand. My eyes widened and I looked down at it wonderingly, could it work? Pressed by time, I decided to try my luck once again as I flipped my badge and searched for my security number on it. I glanced back at the screen and decided to do it, type in my security number. The worst that could happen was the artificial host that Mr. Song designed would recognize someone was trying to ‘hack’ into the system and shut down the whole company while alerting the police and Mr. Song—lovely.

Sweating a little as my finger hovered over the enter button, I took a deep breath and swiftly pressed it as I had wasted too much time already. To my surprise, the screen started loading as it scanned the code and then suddenly it flashed black before a new window popped up asking for a date and time. My jaw dropped open in surprise and I fumbled for a second as my heart thundered in my chest, unable to celebrate my victory as I pressed in the date and approximate time with shaky fingers, chewing on my bottom lip. I must’ve eaten the lip tint already despite applying it this morning with how much I bit and licked at my lips due to being nervous. The screen loaded once again and then there it was. Mr. Song in his office, all alone, the hallway dark outside as I had left just a few minutes ago. He was sat in his chair, leaned back with his legs spread wide open as he stared out the window, running his fingers through his hair. Something seemed to get his attention as a red light flashed on his desk, and I realized it was coming from the thing I assumed was his desk clock. His lips moved but there was no sound as the cameras only recorded images, and then I watched as Mr. Song’s jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed. He sprung out of his chair and rushed towards the massive staircase, his fingers brushing against the books and the decorative piece I accidentally discovered myself.

I wasn’t surprised to see the staircase moving, making way to a dark passageway that was lit up as Mr. Song quickly hurried down, disappearing from the camera. I looked over the other windows and realized that there were no cameras in the room he had just gone in, so I prepared my phone's camera pointing it at the screen, and pressed record. The wait made it worse; my heart was thumping fast and every sound outside the door made me jump, but just when I considered fast-forwarding, Song Mingi appeared in the frame once again. No, not Song Mingi but Iron Man. Its mask was still open so nobody could even deny it that it wasn’t Song Mingi and I gasped as I watched him walk towards his window while pressing buttons on the left arm of his suit. The mask closed and the window slid to the left, making way for Iron Man to leave the office. And then, he was off, flying towards the metro station and leaving me gaping as I paused the footage and stopped my recording. My fingers shook as I fell back in the chair and I ran my fingers through my hair, not having actually expected Mr. Song to be Iron Man.

Of course, I was quite suspicious and even almost fully convinced it was him, but I fully expected to be proven otherwise since I was only being delusional, as Sooyoung had claimed. But no, it was real, my gut feeling was right once again. I took a second to try and wrap my mind around my findings and rationalize my next thought, but there were loud noises outside the room and I panicked, clicking through the windows and struggling to get rid of the footage I had just watched as I couldn’t find the ‘x’ button. The door opened just as I jumped out of the chair and raised my phone as if I had gotten an urgent text or phone call.

“Sorry about that, it was an urgent—”

“Mr. Song just texted me that he needs me up at the office, thank you but I’ll come back sometime else!” I rushed out as the security guard looked at me confused, stepping aside when I hurried towards the door.

“Oh, if you tell me the license plate, I can email it to—”

“Don’t worry about it!” I gave him a bright smile and a tap on his shoulder before I dashed outside, heart beating fast as I clutched my phone to my chest, the video in my gallery glaring back at me as I ran for the stairs, trying to keep my legs steady due to the heels I wore. But what would I do now? Do I tell Mr. Song that I know who he is? That I know he’s Iron Man? Or do I try to exploit this since he’s always an asshole and even a jerk to me? Does Mrs. Bae even know? What would she do in this situation? She’d certainly be disappointed in me if she were to know I tried blackmailing my boss, but if Mr. Song had been a nice person, then I wouldn’t have tried my luck with this crucial information on my hands.

Blackmailing it is, then.

            The rest of the day felt like torture. Pacing up and down outside Mr. Song’s office while he was busy with his meetings and who knows what else didn’t help at all with soothing my nerves, and despite a quick Google search of effective blackmailing tactics, I still came up empty-handed. I had to admit that I wasn’t as brave as I had once regarded myself, but if there was one thing I knew about myself, it was that I was stubborn and determined to go through with this no matter what. I didn’t have an exact reason as to why I was doing this, but I was self-aware enough to realise that I wanted to feel in control, that I wanted to show Mr. Song that he wasn’t untouchable and neither the hot shit he believed himself to be. Of course, he could fire me and blacklist me at all companies, but as Wooyoung once had said, why live a boring life when you can bring a little edge and excitement into it by fucking it up yourself. He was right, but I didn’t know whether taking advice from someone like Wooyoung was smart or not.

So, without wanting to gain anything out of blackmailing Song Mingi, I decided to stay for as long as he did, and just be upfront when he’d be on his way home. Surely, he’d be too tired by then to give too many fucks about his stupid secretary assistant—now secretary replacement—and maybe he’d offer me more money, which…I would accept, obviously, but not without making a few demands like, he’d have to behave if he wanted to talk to me and respect me like any other male employee he had. Surely, I wasn’t asking for much, but with my boss, you never knew what was too much.

So, when it was well after working hours and my legs and back ached from sitting all day long, I decided to brew myself some tea and wait for another hour before I’d finally go home. Mr. Song had been cooped up in his office for hours now, the door closed and locked, and the windows were blurred so that only the light pouring out from underneath his door was the only visible thing and a tell-tale sign that he was still at the company. I couldn’t lie, I was actually quite curious about what he was doing in there, but my pride wouldn’t allow me to ask him—maybe I could ask Mrs. Bae once she had returned. While the kettle whistled and sizzled as I poured the hot water into my cup, I failed to hear that Mr. Song unlocked his door and opened it with a loud groan, too caught up in not spilling the hot water like I had done so before many times. With two spoonfuls of honey in it and the teabag thrown into the bin, I smiled in content as I made to return to my desk. Since I was still here, I figured I could phone up the accountant and settle the monthly appointment he had with Mr. Song, but I was scared out of my mind once I spotted Mr. Song’s tall frame leaning against the doorframe. His arm was up and pressing into the doorframe. His hair looked dishevelled, his black shirt was untucked from his pants with the top buttons unbuttoned, and his vest forgotten somewhere in his office.

I halted as if I was caught doing something bad and stared back at my boss as he fixed his thick glasses. He pursed his lips and looked rather displeased at seeing me, but his eyes curiously fell onto the cup I was holding, mindful of the hot ceramic, “What are you drinking?”

“Wildberry tea,” I answered and cleared my throat, resuming my walk over to my desk. Mr. Song hummed and licked his lips, eyes stuck to my form as I gave him a questioning look once I sat down in my chair.

“Could you make me some too?” He asked, sounding so unlike himself as his tone was laced with exhaustion, “Is it sweet?”

“Yeah, it’s sweet,” I said as he tapped the doorframe before he turned to head back inside his office.

“Make me some!” He called over his shoulder and I rolled my eyes, slouching in my chair. I didn’t want to get up again and fetch him some tea when my feet were killing me, he could get it himself, but he was too lazy and I knew he had fun walking me around all day as if I were his pet, it was infuriating. But perhaps this was my chance to finally do what I was here for, blackmail him. I grinned as I got up from my chair with a newfound passion, hurrying towards the kitchen to pour my boss tea and add two spoonfuls of honey. I placed the cup on a tray as well as three chocolate chip cookies, a napkin, and then I headed for Mr. Song’s office after I fetched my phone. It sat heavy in my dress pants’ pocket as I knocked on the open door as a heads up that I was heading in, and then I walked inside, my red high heels clicking loudly against the marble floor as it was dead silent in Mr. Song’s office.

It was dimly lit now, unlike when the door was closed and locked, and I let my eyes quickly run over the place as they lingered on the hidden door, it was closed, of course. I averted my eyes and looked back at my boss, whose eyebrows were furrowed and glasses discarded in front of him as he stared at his computer’s screen with mild annoyance on his face. Some strands of his black hair stuck up in places in a funny way, and I gulped down the chuckle that threatened to escape my lips, It was rather unusual seeing Mr. Song so stressed and pressed by whatever had him annoyed.

“Here’s your tea,” I announced as I came to a stop next to him, not too close though, and placed the tray carefully on the desk, in its usual spot. Mr. Song hummed, his eyes still glued to the screen, and too curious for my own good, I took a peek at it, surprised to find him reading the news about a war that’s been ongoing for way too long now. I never took Mr. Song as a person who would worry about others or would feel pressured to do something, but the creases on his forehead and the slight sneer on his lips were rather obvious factors that he wasn’t pleased with the development of the war. And then, looking at the article for a little longer, I realized they were bashing his weapons and his company. Now it made sense that he looked annoyed, suddenly I didn’t feel as brave as before to tell him that I knew he was Iron Man.

“Did you put sugar in it?” He suddenly asked and glanced at me, making me stand up straight and quickly avert my eyes from his computer’s screen.

“No, it’s better with honey,” I answered and his eyebrows only furrowed further as he glanced at the tray then back at me. He fell back in his chair and heaved a long sigh, chewing on his bottom lip. The longer I looked at him, the more I realized something was bothering him. I didn’t dare ask whether anything was wrong, and he said nothing as he continued looking at me. My heart had started beating faster and I gulped as my phone seemed to weigh bricks in my pocket, a reminder of why I was still at the company and not at home, in my bathtub soaking up my flowery scented bath bombs.

“I don’t like honey.” Mr. Song muttered at last and I bit my tongue to stop myself from saying something I might regret later. I sighed and reached for the teacup with a displeased expression on my face.

“Fine, I’ll bring you another one with sugar—”

“I’ll drink it.” I froze as he grabbed my hand, looking up at me with glimmering eyes, and suddenly I couldn’t think straight. He looked very much nothing like the man I had known for years, and it almost made me question myself. Could Mr. Song have an actual soft and caring side? Was he not always an arrogant prick who hit on women and only used them for his sexual needs? I gulped and looked down at our hands, his big palm was calloused and it almost completely engulfed my hand. It made my cheeks flush and I found myself speechless for a second.

“Oh, okay,” I said quietly and went to pull back, but Mr. Song didn’t release my hand just yet. His eyebrows were furrowed and he seemed to be in deep thought as he looked up at me again with defeat in his eyes.

“Do you ever feel alone, Miss Jang?” My eyes widened at the sincerity in his voice and more so because of the question he asked. I had never thought a man like Song Mingi would be asking me such a thing, certainly, he cannot be lonely, he’s got everyone and everything he could ever want. Perhaps it’s a trick question he can fire me over.

“I think everyone feels alone at times, Mr. Song.” I answered truthfully, not expecting him to nod along and hum in agreement. I almost jumped when his thumb started caressing my skin, covering my arms in goosebumps as I once again looked down at our hands. His touch was warm and gentle, inoffensive and almost as if he wasn’t doing it consciously as it was slow and inconsistent.

“Even if they are constantly surrounded by people?” I nodded as I continued looking down, shifting my weight from one leg to another.

“Of course, it doesn’t matter how many people are around us and, on our side, if they only want something from us.” I shrugged and looked up, finding Mr. Song already looking at me intensely. I gulped and continued unsurely, “I mean, many people only create connections to exploit them later on, so I think it’s important to surround ourselves with genuine people who want what’s best for us, like our friends.”

“And if the individual doesn’t have genuine friends?” Mr. Song suddenly stood and I felt a little intimidated as he placed my hand on his desk and pressed his over mine, pretty much trapping me in one place, unless I wanted to rip it out from underneath his touch.

“Then it must be a truly lonely life, Mr. Song, they should look for quality and not quantity.” My eyebrows furrowed as Mr. Song’s strong cologne reached my nose, and it was a sore reminder that I had a plan that I still hadn’t gone through with yet.

“There are few chances to meet genuine people in my line of work,” He chuckled bitterly and stepped closer, making me look up at him as my heart started racing uncomfortably once again. His proximity felt a little uncomfortable but not as bothersome as on my first day—perhaps because he had no regard for personal space and always managed to invade it somehow, even if he was just talking to you, “There are few people who see me for who I am.”

I hummed and bit my bottom lip to stop myself from slipping up and telling him that there was a reason for that and that it was because he was a complete asshole to almost absolutely everyone. But my silence seemed to only spur him on and I was rather surprised that my boss was pouring his heart out to me in his office, after working hours, “There’s few people who don’t want what I own and even fewer people who aren’t eager to get in my good graces just because I’m powerful and able to change their lives for the better or worse. And even fewer women who wouldn’t bed me just because I’m rich and own a mansion and luxurious cars.”

Ah, so Mr. Song was only trying to get in my pants. I was surprised to find myself disappointed and bitter as the thought settled deep in my mind while Mr. Song’s hand slowly gripped my wrist, pulling me gently towards himself as I was unable to react just yet. I thought we were having a genuine conversation about a rather trivial issue that everyone faced daily, but no, he just wanted to fuck me. I should’ve expected it, of course, he wasn’t trying to pour his soul out to someone willing to listen, even if that someone was his secretary’s assistant. Of course, he wasn’t a good human being who tried to find solace in another one, to make a genuine connection and speak honestly. Instead of being disappointed by Mr. Song’s actions, I should’ve been more disappointed in myself and the fact that I believed he could be good even if for a few minutes. It made me want to cry, but instead, I felt rage simmer under my skin and my expression became schooled as Mr. Song continued staring into my eyes deeply, his face coming closer and closer. I didn’t move, I let him grip my waist and angle his head so that his lips would brush against mine, and then I spoke.

“I know you’re Iron Man.”

Song Mingi froze, face giving nothing away but his body went rigid and his grip on my waist and wrist tightened. He didn’t have to say anything for me to know that he felt caged, that his mind was twisting and turning to find a reasonable answer that could deny my claim. But I wouldn’t stop now because he didn’t deserve it. He was a piece of shit and I have had enough of him.

“Don’t try to deny it.” My voice was bitter and tone snappy as I glared into his eyes, gripping his arm to push it off my wrist, “I have proof, Mr. Song, and I will take it to newspapers if you try to sweet talk your way out of this.”

“What do you want?” Mr. Song’s was eerily cold, eyes that had been previously soft now all sharp and glaring as he leaned down so that we’d be eye to eye, our jaws clenched as I hoped my expression conveyed the spite I felt towards him.

“Nothing,” I shrugged and watched as his eyebrows formed a small frown, “Nothing material that is, but you should start fixing your attitude towards your employees and women especially. It’s sickening that you think you can toy around with us and then fire us because you got bored of fucking the same person, Mr. Song. It’s disgusting—you are disgusting by doing this.”

He released me at once and took a step back, furious very obviously as he scoffed, pushing his hair back and out of his eyes, “And this concerns you how? I thought you were a mere employee and not my mother, Miss Jang, but by all means, please tell me what else I need to fix to fall into your good graces.”

I smiled at him, all sarcastic and ready to tell him to fuck himself, “The last thing I wish for is to spend more time with you, sir, so don’t worry, you won’t have to fall into my good graces, I don’t think that’s even possible at this point. I was merely making a suggestion, perhaps you’d feel less alone if you tried to maintain a pure and genuine connection with someone for once.”

“If that is all, you can go home, Miss Jang.” Mr. Song crossed his arms in front of his chest, lips forming a sneer, “Maybe I shouldn’t have saved you if you’re so ungrateful.”

“Spiderman saved me, not you.” I snapped with fire in my voice, annoyed and irritated, “Even when you’re supposed to save someone all you can do is be arrogant and satisfy your need to show you’re superior to others, it’s pitiful—”

“Out, now.”

With one last shared glare full of spite, I stormed out of his office and Mr. Song walked after me to slam his door closed shatteringly strong.

            I should have been fired. I know I should have been because I was disrespectful to my boss, and perhaps if I had been in his place, I would’ve fired myself for sure. But I knew his secret and maybe that played a part in me keeping this job for who knows how long. But still, I should have been fired, or at least never spoken to again by Mr. Song, so explain why I found a fancy black box in front of my front door this morning after I returned from grocery shopping. Yes, it was Saturday and I was expected to show up at this fancy get-together to celebrate the collaboration of the two companies, and yes, I did consider emailing Mr. Song that I had fallen ill and wouldn’t make it. So, imagine my complete shock when I unboxed my anonymous package and found a gorgeous black dress with the price still on, making my jaw drop not once but twice. It cost a fortune and I might as well have lost my mind when I found the small note tucked underneath the satin fabric.

There’s a dress code for the party, wear this. ~ S.M.

Perhaps getting an existential crisis would’ve sounded much better than getting an insanely expensive cocktail dress gifted by your boss to an event you had no business attending, but because his secretary couldn’t go you had to fill in for her. I love Mrs. Bae dearly, but this was not in the job description when I sent my resume in. I knew people of all sorts would be there, all important and owners of multifaceted businesses and companies that were just as rich as Mr. Song’s, and I was understandably nervous. I knew I wasn’t supposed to speak to anyone, which I was more than glad to do, but what if anyone spoke to me? What was I supposed to do then? Mind racing with all different sorts of scenarios, I decided to ask Sooyoung to come over and help me get ready—which was actually just a distraction from the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about that damned Song Mingi.

Sooyoung, as always, was a sweetheart and made me laugh while we had lunch, while Wooyoung harassed us with phone calls, saying that he also wanted to come over and participate in all the gossiping he knew we’d be doing. San wasn’t available tonight, which meant that Wooyoung would be bored, but in the end, threatening to block his number on both phones managed to calm him down, so he finally left us alone. Sooyoung just sighed and apologized because Wooyoung was still clingy after three years of dating, and Sooyoung knew I could get easily annoyed and overwhelmed by her overbearing boyfriend. But I knew he meant well, and I never guilt-tripped Sooyoung too much for her boyfriend’s obnoxious personality.

But the moment to get ready came and I was more than mortified when Sooyoung emptied her tote bag on my bed and started listing off all the lotions and serums and perfumes and bath bombs she brought over for me to use, “You never know where you’ll meet your man, Y/N, you must be ready at all times!”

“Does that mean I must exfoliate my body with three different body soaps?!”

“Well, obviously yes! Your skin needs to be soft!”

“My skin is already soft, you know that. I’m not using all of that Sooyoung, please.”

“Fine, but shave at least, okay? For me?”

“I don’t shave, I only wax.”

“But tonight—”

“I’m not going there because I’m trying to bag a billionaire, Sooyoung, I’m going because my boss told me to go.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“And risk getting fired?”

“Fair enough, go on then, time is ticking, bestie.”

And that is how I found myself two hours into getting ready, only a few more minutes until Jongho buzzed me to go down so that he could drive us to the company. Sooyoung helped me do a low bun that sat securely at my nape, front strands curled and framing my face prettily. My makeup was simple because I refused to let her help me with a smokey eye, I opted to wear a softer eye look so that I could wear my red lipstick. Sooyoung had a similar reaction to me when she saw my dress, and her jaw was on the floor as she reluctantly touched the glittery tulle dress, eyes switching between me and the dress.

“So, he bought this for you?” She asked with her mouth still hanging open as I changed into clean underwear in my bathroom.

“I’m sure he had it lying around somewhere in that big mansion of his,” I muttered with a scoff and Sooyoung tsked.

“No, I’m sure he bought it specifically for you, Y/N.” I rolled my eyes and prayed the stockings wouldn’t rip as I pulled them over my knees.

“Yeah, sure, I’m not some peasant turned princess overnight, okay?” I muttered with a huff as I started sweating, this stocking was kicking me in the butt, had I gotten a size smaller?

“Y/N,” Sooyoung’s serious voice made me yelp as she appeared in the doorway, pushing the door open. She had an incredulous look on her face like she had seen a ghost or had been just proposed to, I couldn’t decide, “Your name is on the tag, sewn into it, more specifically—”

“What?” I asked alarmed as I pushed past her and went to my bed to see for myself. I managed to adjust my stockings and gave a last prayer that they wouldn’t rip until I made it back home, then I wouldn’t care about it anymore. I held the dress carefully and touched the tag, leaning down to see it better. My eyes widened when I realized Sooyoung wasn’t joking, and I looked at her with round eyes, “What?!”

“Exactly!” Sooyoung shrieked and I gulped, jerking my head away when she came and hugged my side, “Are you sure you’re not into your boss?”

“Yes, very sure.” I huffed and made sure Sooyoung wouldn’t ruin my hair or makeup as I let her continue embracing me.

“Not even a little bit?” She grinned and batted her eyelashes at me, “Because I’m sure he is into you—”

“Alright, stop right there.” I groaned and pulled myself out of her embrace, “My boss is a womanizer and two days ago he tried to tell me a sob story to try and get into my pants, so no, Song Mingi isn’t into me and I’m not into him. Case closed, Sooyoung, I hate him and I hope he hates me too. I cannot wait for Mrs. Bae to return so that I don’t have to face him ever again.”

Sooyoung pursed her lips and gave me a look as she raised the dress for me, “Fine, but nobody gifts a dress like this—”

“He’s a millionaire—if not billionaire at this point—so no, Sooyoung, he can gift me a dress like that because it’s nothing compared to how much he spends monthly.” Before Sooyoung could oppose, I raised my hand, “I know because I’m the one who puts together his monthly expenses.”

“Okay, whatever.” Sooyoung huffed in defeat and walked closer, “Jongho is supposed to arrive any minute now, let’s get you into the dress.”

And I let my best friend help me wear the expensive and gorgeous dress, soft against my skin and exactly my size. I didn’t want to think too hard about how Mr. Song knew my exact size, but I suppose when you sleep with so many women, one glance at their bodies and you just know. A rather disturbing and disgusting thought that I didn’t care to dwell on too much right now.

The dress reached past my knees and the sparkly fabric that came over the satin didn’t bother my skin at all. The corset bustier was semi-transparent and had a heart-shaped neckline in the front and lacing back, complemented with a sparkly black cape, which came with voluminous sheer puffy long sleeves. The gown was made of sparkly tulle and satin, its skirt puffy and creating the impression that I was wearing a puffed-up princess gown. Both Sooyoung and I stayed silent as we stared at me through the mirror and I gulped, twisting and turning to check myself out from all angles. I hated to admit it, but Mr. Song’s taste was spectacular. The dress looked rather pretty on me and delicately suited my shape and form. Each time I attempted to finally step away from the mirror and stop admiring myself, I found something new to marvel at, and, thus ended up grinning from ear to ear when Sooyoung started snapping chaotic pictures of me, the both of us a giggling mess when there was a buzz at the intercom. We froze and looked at each other and then I was racing towards it. I knew it was Jongho, but it could’ve been anyone else too.

“This is Jongho, I’ll be waiting by the car.” The man’s gruff voice said through the intercom and I felt jittery and nervous all over again.

“I’ll be down in a second!”

Sooyoung already had my coat and purse in her hands, and I gave her a grateful smile as I quickly wore my high heels, not keen on making Jongho wait too long for me. Sooyoung grabbed her stuff quickly too and then we were out the door, the front door locked, and headed for the elevator in a hurry. The ride down was filled with more laughter as Sooyoung tried to distract me since I was feeling nervous, but it didn’t help much when I spotted Jongho leaning against Mr. Song’s sleek Mercedes-Benz, a sophisticated beige colour. Despite not having vast knowledge about cars, I knew that this one was a classic as I have heard my boss gloat about it to others not once or twice, but many times. The car was from around the seventies and the model’s name seemed to stick with me, it was a Pagoda. It felt illegal to touch it, let alone lean against it as casually as Jongho was doing.

“Good evening, ladies.” There was a playful glint in his eyes as he bowed almost mockingly, and I huffed as I crossed my arms in front of my chest.

“Hi, Jongho.” I greeted as Sooyoung waved at him, the two knew each other because Wooyoung liked getting drunk at team dinners and it was usually Jongho who drove him home as he rarely drank, busy running after Mr. Song’s ass.

“Well, if we don’t leave in two minutes our lovely Mingi will have us both fired, so…” He trailed off as he pushed off the car and opened the door for me with that playful glint still present in his eyes. Jongho was a well-built man, strong no doubt, but with a soft and cute face and a smile that could charm many—I had been charmed too, unfortunately, since he knew how to use it to his advantage and made me lose a significant amount of money one time when he decided he wanted to play the claw machine. He was tenacious and smart, a deadly combination for a weak-hearted person.

“Don’t worry, Jongho,” I gave him a huge grin as I walked closer, “we’re too precious to be fired, after all, who would clean up Mr. Song’s mess if we weren’t there for him?”

“That’s right,” Jongho muttered and I pressed a quick kiss to Sooyoung’s cheek before I hurriedly sat inside the fancy car, mindful not to scratch the red leather and interior of the car. It was beautiful and expensive, I didn’t understand how Mr. Song allowed anyone else to drive the car, but after all, Jongho was a trustworthy person and a good driver. Besides, I am pretty sure Jongho is the only person who Mr. Song considers to be his friend despite him being his employee, and I’m also pretty sure Mr. Song is a little bit afraid of Jongho because he never misbehaves when the other is around.

“Are you joining us at the party?” I asked curiously as Jongho sat inside too and ignited the engine to life, the rumble a low purr, a rather satisfying sound. Sooyoung grinned at us and waved as Jongho carefully pulled out of the parking lot, and we were off to S. Industries, my heart in my throat. I could only hope at least one familiar face would be at the party, someone I could talk to and hide behind if necessary.

“I’m not in the mood, to be honest,” Jongho said with his lips pursed, turning onto the main street with ease. The hardtop of the car was on as the weather didn’t allow us to ride without it, something I would’ve actually really enjoyed doing now, “But Mingi did say he wanted me there so I’ll just stick close to the exit. You know, doing bodyguard stuff.”

I chuckled and adjusted myself in the seat, admiring the interior as I carefully reached forward to touch the dashboard. I’ve seen the car numerous times but I have never come as close to it as I was right now, “Are you nervous?”

I gulped and looked at Jongho as he sped through the yellow light, “Is it that obvious? I’m shitting my pants, I’m not going to lie.”

Jongho laughed, sounding cute and warm, and his lips stayed in their usual gummy smile, “You should relax, you’re not supposed to do anything, so really, it’s just a good opportunity to get to know more people. Maybe someone steals you from Mr. Song and then there’ll be a big scandal that I’ll happily enjoy from the sidelines.”

“I know I have no actual reason to be nervous, but I’ve never been to an event like this one before and I just…I don’t know, actually.” I sighed and looked out the window as Jongho turned onto the street where the company was situated at, traffic was scarce tonight, “I’m not particularly fond of people like Mr. Song.”

“Mingi especially.” Jongho muttered with a cackle and gave me an encouraging smile as we stopped at the gates of the underground parking lot of the company, “You’ll see you’ll find likeable people tonight, maybe some new friends even. At least I know Mr. Park is a very humble and generous man, if you stir up a conversation with him, he’ll be more than happy to indulge.”

“Wait,” Suddenly I realized something I hadn’t thought about before, “Wooyoung will be here too, right?”

We were let in as the gate opened and Jongho waved at the guard as we drove inside the parking lot, “Yeah, unfortunately. Who do you think will drive his drunk ass home tonight? Me, and I don’t want to, but I’m a good friend.”

“I thought you weren’t friends.” They were, but Jongho denied it every chance it was brought up since he was embarrassed by Wooyoung’s personality. Jongho grumbled something and I chuckled as he parked the car rather skilfully.

“He said he won’t take me to the Bahamas if I keep denying that we’re friends, so…” He gave me a look which made me laugh, and we both got out of the car once it was parked with the engine killed. But for the rest of the way, we remained silent, especially since the elevator was filled with people dressed in fancy outfits as they were headed up to the fifteenth floor, which totally had a ballroom sort of thing going on. I didn’t want to wonder much about why such a room existed in a company like Song Mingi’s, but I supposed he’d flaunt his wealth any time he could.

The hallway was decorated with golden accents and dimly lit, a red carpet laid out, guiding you towards the entrance of the ballroom. I followed the others as I stuck to Jongho’s side, and he gave me a grin as we reached the entrance, bodyguards stopping everyone to check their invites and if their names were on the list. It was a pretty exclusive party, people couldn’t just sneak in if they wanted to. It was mainly to avoid a bunch of press people and journalists who liked to stick their noses where they didn’t belong to. I froze for a second when I noticed the security guard who helped me, sort of, by the door as recognition passed his face when he spotted me. I tried to look normal as I nodded towards him and thankfully, he was distracted by Jongho when he went over to greet his colleagues. He wished me luck and then I was off, greeted by Chanyeol when he told the bodyguard to let me through since I was Mr. Song’s secretary (assistant).

The inside of the ballroom was better lit than the hallway, it was decorated with anything golden, and there was a bar filled with people ordering drinks. Orchestra music was playing at a pleasant volume so that people could converse but also dance if they so wished to do, and I found myself not knowing what to do now. I stood awkwardly in the doorway and then decided to move towards my left, keeping close to the wall as waiters walked around with trays, carrying champagne and even some snacks and fruits. Everyone was dressed to the nines and most women wore festive gowns or cocktail dresses and jewellery that glimmered in the lightning subtly, surely worth more than everything I owned as they were mostly diamonds, no doubt. I felt out of place as I slipped out of my coat and looked around, trying to find a hanger or anything. There was none and I jumped when a waiter suddenly stood in front of me with a bored look on his face.

“Champagne?” I wanted to refuse but one quick glance around me told me that everyone had a glass in their hands, so I accepted it, fumbling with my coat and purse.

“Do you know where I can put these down?” I motioned towards my belongings and the waiter sighed before he extended his arm.

“There’s a wardrobe, I’ll take it there.” And then he went to walk off, but paused, “Do you perhaps work for Mr. Song?”

“I do.” Suddenly I felt extra self-conscious, was it that obvious that I didn’t belong here?

“Oh, good.” The waiter seemed to perk up a bit, even smiling a little, “You’re Miss Jang, his secretary?”

“Uh, secretary assistant.” I corrected him, and he just waved it off.

“Yeah, good, I’ll put your stuff with Mr. Song—”

“Don’t do that!” I almost but exclaimed, and quickly blushed when a woman who walked by us gave me a look, “I mean, please, I can hold onto it or something—”

“These are Mr. Song’s orders, so I can’t really go against it.” Then he bowed his head a bit and walked off before I could object some more, leaving me with wide eyes. Why would Song Mingi bother with telling the waiters to take my belongings to where his were? It made no sense, but perhaps that’s the treatment I got for being here in Mrs. Bae’s place. I cradled the champagne glass in my hands and looked around, looking for Wooyoung even if he was annoying and embarrassing. Although I doubted Mr. Song would’ve let him come if he didn’t know how to behave in a place like this. But as my eyes surveyed the crowd, instead of finding my best friend’s boyfriend, I found my boss. Unsurprisingly, he was at the bar, leaning against it as he was chatting to some pretty woman who was all smiles and laughed at almost everything Mr. Song said. I couldn’t imagine anything my boss ever said would be funny, but he most definitely acted differently towards people who weren’t his employees. I mean, he was well-known for sleeping with women left and right, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he was on the hunt tonight despite the gravity of this event.

He held a glass in his hands, and I wasn’t surprised to see a ring on almost every finger of his, the one with a big ruby in it rather eye-catching. Being himself, Mr. Song certainly dressed to impress, and as I took in his attire, I realized with alarm that indeed there was a dress code to this event and it wasn’t black. Every woman in the room wore different shades of golden or beige, all light and sparkly at times, meanwhile the men wore mostly beige or a darker shade of cream. Eyes snapping back to Mr. Song, I realized it was quite literally just the two of us wearing black outfits, and suddenly I felt really stupid and embarrassed as I stuck out like a sore thumb in the crowd. I now understood why everyone was giving me looks once they passed by me, and I had to take several deep breaths to stop myself from blowing up or crying, I couldn’t decide which one just yet.

Mr. Song’s blazer was cropped and put accent onto his shoulders, and perhaps it was glitterier than my dress and all the other ones combined. His pants seemed to be high-waisted and loose as they came down past his ankles, and as he angled his body to face the front of the room, my eyes widened when I spotted him wearing nothing but a simple vest underneath his blaze. It came up to his pecks and it was buttoned up all the way, stopping just above the hem of his dress pants. Heavy silver chains hung around his neck, complementing the jewellery on his fingers and bringing out his tan complex more. I didn’t understand why I had to be wearing black as well, surely, he didn’t want anyone else stealing the spotlight from him, yet here I was, merely a secretary assistant with our outfits assorted even down to their sparklines. I hated it, I concluded that it made me want to cry and I swiftly downed my champagne in one go, jaw clenching and eyes glaring as I turned my head away, unable to look at my asshole of a boss anymore.

I tried to hunt down another waiter with a tray to place my empty glass onto, but they were nowhere to be seen, so I just stormed towards the exit with the glass still in my hands. People were still coming in and it proved to be a bit hard to leave the room as I had to wait until everyone came inside, and unfortunately, Chanyeol had spotted me.

“Y/N,” He said with a small smile as he checked a man’s invitation, “You look gorgeous, that dress looks amazing on you. It’s almost as if it was tailored for you.”

I gulped to force down the lump in my throat and tried to smile as the man he allowed inside gave me a long look, a smirk appearing on his lips, “Thank you, do you think I could slip out for a second?”

“Bathroom break?” Chanyeol chuckled, and meanwhile I usually appreciated how carefree he was, I wasn’t in the mood to chit-chat around with him. I nodded wordlessly and he asked a lady to step aside for a second so that I could leave. I was glad that Jongho was nowhere to be seen as I stormed down the hallway, aimlessly as I had never been on this floor before and had no idea where the bathroom even was. The music grew to just a mere hum as I rounded a corner and found myself standing in a lobby, huge doors to my left and right. It was the restrooms and I headed for the emerald-coloured couch in the middle of the room. It was a semi-circle and had its back to the other couch and I plopped down on it, not minding my dress as I slouched, placing the glass on the floor next to my leg. I sighed loudly and closed my eyes, trying to calm my nerves since all I wanted to do was walk up to my boss and demand an explanation as to why he bought me a black dress. Was he mocking me? Was he making fun of me? Did he enjoy berating his hard-working employees? Was this some sort of stupid powerplay? I was furious and I was ready to go on a full whispered rant when the doors to the men’s restroom slammed shut loudly. I had missed the footsteps, but it seemed like whoever entered hadn’t noticed me either.

I knew hiding out here wasn’t smart on my part as Mr. Song would certainly want to see me, so I took a deep breath and told myself that I could call him out later or at the office on Monday, if not tonight. I couldn’t let him get under my skin again, I had to be better than that. Perhaps I should find Wooyoung and grab a drink with him, let him introduce me to some smart people and watch where the night takes us. Grabbing the glass, I rose and fixed my dress, checking myself out in the big mirror to make sure I looked fine. My cheeks were a bit rosy from my sudden anger, but if I plastered on my fake smile, nobody could tell I wasn’t feeling so fine. I took off and rounded the corner just as the men’s restroom door opened again, slamming shut irritatingly. Already annoyed, I stopped and intended to call out whoever was keen on slamming doors, but the hushed voices made me halt.

“She’s gone, bring out the weapons.”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t wait for longer?”

“All the important ones are already here, I don’t want more collateral victims than necessary.”

“Fine, boss.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I remained rooted to my spot, not having a good feeling at all about this. Who were these people and why were they talking about weapons and victims? I thought this was a highly secured event, so these two must’ve been on the list or something. Otherwise, it made no sense to how they got in.

“That Song prick will pay tonight for fucking us over, Sehun, mark my words.”

“When do you want to attack?”

“When he gets up on the podium for his fucking speech.”

“And his secretary?”

My heart stilled as my eyebrows furrowed, and I made sure to stay out of view as I listened attentively, disregarding my red lipstick as I had started chewing on my bottom lip.

“It’s not that old hag anymore, pity, the new one is rather gorgeous, isn’t she?”

“Do you want me to take her hostage, sir?”

“Yeah, kill her if Song isn’t cooperating.”

I gasped and pressed my hands against my mouth, hoping I wasn’t loud, my heart beating fast as my hands started shaking. My ears rang for a second and I swore my head became hazy, but I had to focus. I had to stop this before anything would happen. I wasn’t dying, and nobody was getting hurt tonight.

I knew exactly who to tell.

With a racing heart and unstable legs, I hurried down the hallway, grateful for the red carpet as my heels made no sound. I ignored everyone as I very rudely pushed people out of my way, ignoring Chanyeol’s smile and questions as I snapped at him to get out of my way. Jongho was back and his eyebrows furrowed when he saw my disposition, but I had no time to speak to anyone but Song Mingi—Iron Man. I felt judging eyes on me as I tried to keep my breaths laboured, eyes frantically searching the crowd for my boss, my heart beating even faster. As his secretary, I have read through the schedule and I knew Mr. Song’s speech was soon, I really couldn’t waste even one more second. Taking a breath to calm my nerves and think clearly, my eyes fell towards the bar and that’s where I spotted my boss. Without thinking, I marched over to him—and the woman he was with—pushing people out of my way without apologizing, but I’m sure they’d understand if they knew what was soon to occur.

“Mr. Song!” I called out with an edge before even reaching my boss, but he didn’t react as he probably didn’t even hear me, too busy leaning towards the woman he was talking with as he touched her bare shoulder, trailing his fingers down her skin. My eyebrows furrowed as I came to a stop rather close to them, but neither seemed to notice me just yet, “Mr. Song.”

At the insistency in my tone, my boss cast a glance my way and I watched as his grin turned forced, “I’m busy Miss Jang, find me after the speech—”

“I cannot do that, sir, I need to speak to you in private.” When the woman gave me a dirty look, I felt my jaw clenching, “Right now.”

Mr. Song seemed just as displeased by my rude interruption as the lady—but she seemed to be more pressed about my presence as she leaned back against the bar and took me in from head to toe—but when I pushed my trembling hands behind my back and looked at my boss with pleading eyes, he seemed to realize something was wrong, so very wrong, “Please, Mr. Song, we need to talk.”

He cleared his throat and adjusted his sparkly blazer as he gave the woman a dashing smile, grabbing her hand to press a faint kiss against her knuckles, “Don’t get too bored in my absence, Miss Han, I’ll be right back.”

She chuckled and nodded her head, then threw me another dirty glare, and then Mr. Song was finally looking at me with questioning eyes and without thinking, I grabbed his wrist and took off, pulling him after myself urgently. I apologized to people this time as we walked through the crowd, headed for the exit, and Jongho tried to stop us when he noticed us, but Mr. Song raised his hand to stop him. I was too scared to walk towards the restrooms as I didn’t know whether the men were still there, so instead, I guided us towards the elevator.

“What is your problem?” Mr. Song’s tone was sharp as he snapped once I stopped walking and I whirled around, his eyes were narrowed as they sharply looked down at me.

“Someone wants to hurt you.” I rushed out and before Mr. Song could interrupt me, I continued, “I needed a moment so I went to the restroom and after leaving, I heard two men talking and they were saying they will make you pay and—they have weapons, Mr. Song, they—they said they’ll kill me if you don’t cooperate with them—”

“This isn’t a prank or a joke, right?” Mr. Song asked as he stepped closer, and I quickly shook my head, grip around his wrist tightening.

“I wouldn’t joke about something like this!” I hissed as Mr. Song’s eyebrows furrowed and worry coated his expression, “They’ll attack before your speech.”

Mr. Song averted his eyes as they seemed to cloud over with even more worry and stress and then suddenly, he stepped closer, eyes boring into mine, fierce and burning with determination, “Do you know their names?”

“One is called Sehun.” I barely finished my sentence when Mr. Song tsked and looked at the ceiling, looking irked as I finally released his wrist, a little embarrassed for having held onto it for so long. Mr. Song licked his lips and then glanced down at me, opening his mouth to speak when there was laughter behind us and chatter. I barely blinked when I felt myself shoved backwards as my back collided with the wall, Mr. Song’s tall form looming over me as he caged me in between himself and the wall. My eyes widened in surprise and out of reflex, I tried to push him away. I grabbed his waist and attempted to wrestle myself out of the hold, but Mr. Song only pushed his body against mine as the laughter and chatter came closer.

“What are you doing?!” I whisper-shouted as I looked up at him with a glare, blood boiling that he wasn’t taking the situation seriously again and was trying to do—whatever with me.

“I’m sorry, Miss Jang, but everyone saw us walk outside together and, well, I have a reputation to uphold, you know?” He smirked and lowered his head as I sputtered, trying to push him away once again, “I will let you go when they have walked past us, stop being so fussy.”

“I wouldn’t be so fussy if you weren’t pinning me against a wall against my own will, sir, kindly fuck off.” I snapped and Mr. Song dared to chuckle, “There’s lives on your hands and you’re here with me instead, play-pretending that something that isn’t happening is happening, putting everyone’s life at risk—”

“Relax a little, will you?” Mr. Song groaned and poked my forehead with a finger, making me flinch away, “They won’t attack until I give my speech, so, we’re good. I could just not say that speech the whole night and everyone would be okay—”

“No, because they want revenge and they will get it, no matter what.” The people enjoying themselves had almost reached us now, Mr. Song cradled my jaw with one hand and tilted my head up, making my heart race as I gulped, “What we all need right now is a superhero to save the day, sir, we need Iron Man.”

“I thought Spiderman was the one who saved you.” Mr. Song’s voice dropped low as his eyes searched my face and I felt breathless for a second, his cologne strong and wrapping around us, “But you’re asking for Iron Man now? Don’t you hate me? Wouldn’t you rather have someone else save the day—”

“I don’t give a fuck who saves the day, Mr. Song, as long as they stop those two men, alright?” My jaw clenched and my eyes threatened to flutter closed as Mr. Song’s head lowered and his lips came close to mine, “I know you’ve done good things before, just—I don’t want to die.”

“I know.” Mr. Song whispered and suddenly the people went quiet as they had spotted us, “I don’t want you to die either.”

Mr. Song and I stared into each other’s eyes as I let his words sink in, trying to desperately ignore my quickening heartbeat and the way my muscles seemed to tense when he smiled softly, the hand holding my jaw coming to play with the front strands of my hair before he pushed them behind my ear. The people in the hallway suddenly giggled and muttered something about Mr. Song clearly enjoying himself, and then they rushed off while looking at us curiously. I exhaled once they were gone from sight and thought Mr. Song would release me, but his eyebrows were furrowed and he looked conflicted. I raised my eyebrows at him and slightly tried to push him away again, but he barely took a step back.

“I need you to go back to the ballroom and tell Jongho that there’s been a change to our plans, then tell Chanyeol to announce that my speech will be soon starting, alright?” His tone was soft and almost worried as I nodded, finally able to relax as Mr. Song completely released me and stepped away, his warmth disappearing with him. I gulped and fixed my hair, pulling the strands back to frame my face once again, failing to notice that Mr. Song watched me closely with a small gulp, “You’re gorgeous tonight, Miss Jang.”

My head snapped up and I looked at Mr. Song with an alarmed expression, but with a nod of his head he was gone and I knew what I had to do next. So, heeding his words, I ran back to the ballroom and called Jongho aside to tell him there’s been a change to their plans, watching as realization crossed his features. He squared his shoulders as his expression became schooled and cold, different from the man I knew. He thanked me and told me to stay safe before he was gone too, and then I knew that Jongho also knew who Song Mingi was. Next, I told Chanyeol to gather everyone and announce that Mr. Song would be giving his speech soon, and then I walked closer to the exit, eyes surveying the crowd and trying to figure out who the two men were. Nobody looked suspicious, and I felt more and more nervous as time went by and the room filled up with even more people. Everyone was eager to see and hear my boss, and the room was filled with loud chatter as the music had stopped playing. I jumped when the doors were closed and Jongho stood in front of them, hands intertwined in front of him and eyes steely as he looked around, searching.

The lights flickered and everyone looked at each other, surprised and a little confused, and then the lights went out completely. I gasped as the chatter died down at once, my breaths quick as my muscles tensed, waiting for the worst. I could tell everyone thought this was a trick Mr. Song came up with, but I knew just in how great danger we were. But then, before I could panic more and even start crying, the lights were back on and nothing changed. The stage was still empty and nobody had moved from their spots, I felt confused as Jongho and I shared a glance. Perhaps it was a malfunction or something, but that was unexpected and almost impossible as the building had backup generators that kicked in as soon as the electricity went out. Then, somebody cleared their throat loudly.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.” People whirled around as we looked towards where the modified voice came from, a red iron costumed man stood behind the bar, polishing a glass. I could feel everyone’s confusion as they gaped at Iron Man, some even looked excited, and I caught Jongho’s amused smile before I looked back at Mr. Song, “I heard you’re waiting for Song Mingi’s speech, he’s a really good friend of mine, did you know that? We’re practically like twins, that’s how close we are.”

People laughed and some even got their phones out to snap pictures as Iron Man placed both the rag and glass onto the bar, resting his elbows on it as he leaned forward, chin in his palms, “Before I let my dear twin proceed with his speech, I heard there are people here who had planned a surprise for all of us. Kim Junmyeon, are you in the room with us?”

The crowd went silent again and looked around, my eyebrows furrowed as I tried to see if anyone reacted weirdly, but I couldn’t tell as there were many people in there. Iron Man chuckled and then stood up straight, trailing an iron finger against the counter, “I heard you brought your little brother too, Oh Sehun, so where are you two hiding?”

The lights went out and I yelped when I felt someone touch my wrist, bony fingers curling around my skin as I started yanking my arm free. Then, two spotlights suddenly snapped on and I whipped my head to my left frantically, ready to punch my captor and free myself and was rather glad to see Wooyoung. His eyes were big and he looked confused and borderline scared too, “I hate the dark, what the fuck is happening?”

“Are you drunk?” I whispered as I looked towards the spotlights, two men were illuminated. One stood in the middle of the crowd, which now had made way and stepped away as if sensing danger, and the other man was rather close to the exit, Jongho’s fierce glare was fixed onto the man.

“No, but I wish I was.” Wooyoung whispered, moving closer until his side was pressing into mine, “Are we going to die?”

“We shouldn’t,” Then I looked towards Iron Man who slowly walked around the bar, somehow managing to look menacing as the two men put on the spot looked towards each other, expressions tense and eyes glaring, “Do you trust Iron Man?”

“Fuck yes,” Wooyoung whispered as his grip tightened around my wrist, “remember that bad accident I was involved in? He’s the guy that saved me before the engine exploded, I owe him my life.”

I looked at Wooyoung with surprise as his eyes remained on Iron Man, slightly shaking but filled with admiration. Wooyoung rarely spoke of his accident, and even when he did, he never mentioned how he got out of the car, saying something about it being too traumatic to be spoken of. I gulped and grabbed his hand, squeezing it, “We’re not dying then.”

“We better not, I wanted to propose to Sooyoung next week.” But before I could react to Wooyoung’s words, everyone gasped as the two men drew guns, and my eyes widened as Wooyoung suddenly stepped in front of me, shielding me with his body. My heart swelled and I gripped the back of his shirt as I looked at Jongho who was moving towards the one that stood close to him.

“Fuck off, you arrogant prick!” The man in the middle of the crowd exclaimed, enraged as he pointed his gun towards my boss, “What’s the meaning of this? Where’s Song Mingi?!”

Iron Man chuckled and as he started walking towards the man, the crowd parted for him as everyone ducked down in fear, “He’s busy fucking his secretary assistant.”

“Fuck off.” I hissed as my glare bore into the side of Iron Man’s iron mask, and as if sensing my rage, the superhero’s head turned just briefly, but I knew Mr. Song was looking at me. Wooyoung cackled in front of me, as if the situation was actually funny, but didn’t question it despite it being about me. Did Wooyoung know too, perhaps, that our boss was the superhero?

“Well, Mr. Kim, now that the man you’re searching for isn’t here, won’t you lower your weapons?” Iron Man turned his head, “You too, Mr. Oh.”

A man yelped as the one closer to the door suddenly sprung forward and grabbed him, holding his gun against the man’s head, a seething expression on his face, “I’ll blow his brains out if you don’t get Song Mingi in here, right now.”

But my boss didn’t react as Jongho slowly crept towards the pair, ready to fight off the man holding the weapon. Everyone screamed as a warning shot went off, the man in the middle had his gun pointed towards the ceiling before he pointed it at Iron Man again. There was a tsk and then Iron Man’s hand was pointed towards the criminal, something opening as blue light simmered in its palm, just like when he was supposed to save me.

“You’re being rude and you’re also destroying the décor.” Iron Man snapped and then walked just a bit closer, “You have five seconds to lower your weapons and it won’t be too painful this way.”

“Fuck you.” The two men spat in unison, and suddenly, the ceiling opened up and large weapons descended, pointed straight at the criminals' heads. They froze as the crowd went dead silent once again, everyone scared to make the wrong move as if they’d detonate the weapons. Two red dots sat on the criminals' foreheads, and I saw the one in the middle of the crowd slightly falter, fire dying out in his eyes.

“Still want to fuck me?” Iron Man chuckled, lowering his arm, “I only have to press one button and then both of you will be dead.”

I gulped and felt thankful for having Wooyoung with me as his presence brought comfort despite his shaking frame and constant silent curses, eyes darting between Iron Man and Jongho as the driver/bodyguard almost reached the criminal. Wooyoung looked like he wanted to help, but I grabbed his arm and halted him into place, knowing that I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to him.

“Give us Song Mingi.

“No.”

And then the man in the crowd fired shots at Iron Man foolishly, emptying his ammunition as Jongho tackled the other one to the ground, getting on top of him to pin him down as the doors slammed open and police officers filled in to take the two attackers hostage. Iron Man casually grabbed the criminal’s gun and snapped it into two before he headbutted him, the man instantly falling to the ground unconscious. Wooyoung seemed to relax as people tried to flee the place, scared and confused, but the police asked everyone to remain calm as the threat had been neutralized. The Captain greeted Iron Man before they collected the unconscious man off the floor, the other one was trashing around and screaming as they had him handcuffed and held down by five officers and Jongho. Despite it being over, I found it hard to breathe as my body continued to shake, and I had to bite my bottom lip to stop myself from crying. The incident at the metro was too fresh in my mind, and I couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t eavesdropped on the two men. Wooyoung, sensing my panic, turned and pulled me into a warm embrace, rubbing my back up and down as he muttered reassuring words, cracking jokes that weren’t helping at the moment. I did appreciate them, though.

            Once the police took the two criminals and Iron Man mysteriously disappeared and Song Mingi showed up to do damage control, the crowd seemed to remain tense, and thus the party was postponed. Not everyone left, some decided to stay behind and drink and dance around, but as it neared midnight, few people remained. The event was ruined, but surprisingly, Mr. Song didn’t look too disappointed by it. After talking to the police and calming the crowd down and apologizing profusely, he sauntered over to the bar and downed a shot of tequila before beckoning Jongho over to drink some whiskey. The younger refused his offer but remained by his side, soon joined by a squeamish Wooyoung who was reluctant to leave me on my own. I assured him that I would be fine and needed the breather as I headed towards the huge windows to gaze outside. The city lights were pretty from the fifteenth floor, and I released a long sigh as I felt exhausted and ready to leave. I didn’t want to stay behind, but somehow both Wooyoung and Chanyeol managed to convince me as they offered me another glass of champagne to loosen up. Most of the employees stayed behind, eager to speak to their boss as it was a rare occasion if you didn’t work directly with him.

Distracted by the soft music and my own thoughts as I watched people walk down the street from time to time, I wasn’t aware that Mr. Song had approached me. He stood next to me, looking down at the city too, lips pursed as he spoke up quietly, “You did really well, Miss Jang, thank you.”

My eyes rounded as I turned my head to look at my boss, having never heard him thank anyone before so sincerely. It felt nice, it made my body jittery and my heart race a bit, “Would you like to dance?”

That surprised me as well as I froze, looking at my boss questioningly. Did he really want to share a dance with me? Although there weren’t many people who could see us, rumours spread quickly at our company—especially if they were about Song Mingi and his women.

“Uhm, alright,” I muttered and almost flinched when Mr. Song took my hand to walk us towards the dance floor. I gulped and stepped closer when we faced each other, Mr. Song’s free hand went to my lower back as he pressed our bodies together, and I gripped his shoulder as he, for some weird reason, intertwined our other hands. Our closeness felt a bit too much, too intimate, but I said nothing as it didn’t feel like he meant to do anything inappropriate. During this one week of working with him, I realized he sought out physical contact more often than not and stood rather close whenever he spoke to someone.

“Are you alright?” I chanced a glance at Mr. Song, but he wasn’t looking at me. I licked my lips and tried not to feel awkward as I nodded, suddenly reminded of when he comforted me while I didn’t know Iron Man’s identity.

“Yes, you—you did a good job tonight, sir, thank you.” My voice was small and I took a deep breath, feeling awfully vulnerable all of a sudden, “I wasn’t ready to be taken hostage again, I was scared.”

“I’ll keep you safe, Miss Jang, just don’t leave my sight.” Perhaps Mr. Song didn’t mean to say that as he gasped quietly right after before he cleared his throat and tapped my lower back, “Iron Man saves people too, you know? Not just Spiderman.”

“Are you really jealous over that?” I decided that I didn’t want us to be too vulnerable with each other, I still didn’t like my boss, so I tried to change the tone of the conversation. Mr. Song scoffed and moved us around the few dancing couples, he was rather good at dancing, fluid and gentle.

“I’m not the jealous type, besides, why would I be jealous of somebody like Yun—” The cut-off was way too abrupt and my ears perked up, eyes widening comically as I pulled my head back to look at Mr. Song’s face. He looked flabbergasted by his own words and I broke into giggles, averting my eyes when Mr. Song’s narrowed at me.

“I don’t think I was supposed to know the other superhero’s identity,” I said amused, and Mr. Song groaned as he gripped my hand just a bit tighter, as if warning me to stay silent. Well, at least now it made sense what I saw through the CCTV, that thing Yunho and Mr. Song were fixing had probably something to do with Spiderman’s web. So, it seems Jeong Yunho is Spiderman, what a small world.

“Just don’t tell anyone, specifically him, he’ll get excited and he’ll never shut up about himself—”

“Oh, sounds like he had a good mentor.” I mocked with a raise of my eyebrow and Mr. Song glared at me, “But I won’t tell anyone. Isn’t it even more dangerous for him, he’s still a teenager.”

“Do you worry about me as well, Miss Jang?”

“No.”

“That’s a pity, maybe you should.”

“You’re quite alright inside that iron suit.”

“Nothing is indestructible.”

“Then you’ll have to be more careful.”

“Yeah, I’ll have to be more careful now.” Our eyes bore into each other’s, and I felt my cheeks warm up as Mr. Song’s warm eyes were intense and curious, glinting with a seriousness that was rare to see on him. But it didn’t last for long as he looked away and twisted me around abruptly, making me gasp as I had to cling onto him before I lost my balance, “Mrs. Bae will be back in a week, think you can handle me for a little while longer?”

“I don’t think I can,” I snorted, realizing that I was almost hugging my boss with the arm that was supposed to only hold onto his shoulder, “But I don’t have a choice.”

“You’re smart,” Mr. Song chuckled and he lowered his head to be able to look me in the eyes directly, “And quite useful. You tried to blackmail me, you move fast, and stick your nose into everything, these aren’t necessarily good attributes, but they could be of use to me.”

My eyebrows furrowed as a wide smirk made its way onto Mr. Song’s lips, eyes twinkling with mischief, “What do you mean?”

“Are you trained in any martial arts?” I shook my head and Mr. Song pursed his lips, seemingly in thought, “Well, that’s easily changeable. Are you good with tech?”

I shook my head again and Mr. Song seemed disappointed, “Well, that’s not an issue, I have Yungi—”

“Who?” I asked confused as Mr. Song grinned.

“The artificial intelligence I designed to help me, he’s rather smart and a good friend when a man’s lonely.” That was perhaps impressive, but I didn’t say that to Mr. Song, he didn’t have to hear it from me too, “Well, anyways, I can find something useful for you to do.”

“Am I not useful already?” I asked confused, just slightly offended, “I help Mrs. Bae a lot, I’m her assistant after all, and by helping her, I help you too, sir.”

“Mingi.”

“What?”

“Stop calling me ‘sir’ and ‘Mr. Song’, it’s getting a bit repetitive.” I gave him a funny look as Mr. Song just raised his eyebrows challengingly.

“But you’re my boss, sir.”

“Am I though?” My heart stilled as Mr. Song suddenly dipped me down, our noses touching as he looked dashing under the dim lights, blazer sparkling and eyes twinkling.

“Are you firing me right now?” I asked alarmed, both arms going around his shoulders once I was in a standing position again. Mr. Song’s strong arms went around my waist as he swayed us slowly to the rhythm of the music the live band was playing.

“Yes and no,” Mr. Song—Mingi—hummed, and then his voice rumbled quietly next to my ear, “You’ll be working less for Song Mingi and more for Iron Man.”

My eyes widened as my heart raced now, skin tingling at the weird proposition, Mingi continued to explain, “Mrs. Bae will be retiring soon and I already have the person who will replace her, and surprisingly, I quite like you, Y/N. I want you to help me out—”

“But how?” I couldn’t find anything with which I would be more useful to Mingi. He chuckled, and I felt him play with the strands that had fallen out of my low bun.

“Iron Man needs a secretary too.”

“And if I refuse?” I knew I couldn’t, there were too many factors at stake right now.

“Jongho will kidnap you tonight.” That sounded terrifying, “I can’t let you go, you know too much. But I assume you already know that, right?”

“I do, Mingi, but if you’re subjecting me to more hours spent with you—which will be my own personal hell—I expect the paycheck to be higher too, you know?” Mingi giggled, the sound deep and surprising, and I found myself smiling.

“I’ll give you anything you want, Y/N, just stay by my side.” His voice was low and sincere and I gulped, feeling butterflies in my stomach.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Does Mrs. Bae know who you are?”

“She’s my godmother, of course, she knows.”

I chuckled, not having expected that, “That explains a lot, actually.”

“She’s a menace,” Mingi grumbled and I chuckled again.

“And so are you.” I watched another couple join the dance floor, and suddenly remembered something, “You said there was a dress code, so why is it that only the two of us are wearing black?”

“Because there’s a dress code.”

“And it’s gold, not black.”

“Exactly.”

“Mingi.”

“I’m the host, I can dress however I want.”

“And me?”

“Shut up, I love this song.”

The song, in fact, was just another classical piece that I was convinced Mingi hadn’t heard before in his life, but I remained silent and decided to bring up this subject again sometime soon. Just what was Iron Man’s secretary supposed to do?

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[some-bunniii]

Alastor and Lucifer come to your rescue

・❥ You’ve been kidnapped. Good thing you know two handsome fellas who’d come to your rescue in a heartbeat—or lack thereof.

~ 5k words

x: reader is g/n. no use of y/n. enjoy 🥰

“You better just let me go. It won’t be pretty for any of you if you keep me locked up for much longer!” You called from the suspended prison cell, hanging from the ceiling with a single, thick chain.

The demon thugs below barely blinked, ignoring your words as they continued their game of hellish poker. Empty bottles of liquor were scattered across the floor, their heads spinning with a drunken buzz while they snickered between each other.

“Whoever wins this round gets first tool pick for torturing the prisoner.” The dealer laid out the deck of cards, flicking his gaze to the cage just above their heads.

“Maybe that will finally shut them up. It’s been–what, three hours since we grabbed them, and they’re still yapping.” One of the shark demons sighed as he shuffled his hand.

The iron bars pressed against your fingers, their chill biting your skin as you gripped them. The dank air, thick with the stench of mold and something fouler, clung to your lungs with every breath. They had plucked you from the street just as you stepped out of the bar, saying you owed money to some freak down in the Greed Ring and your stash of cash needed to be coughed up before the night's end.

Except you have no memory of stealing money from anybody! They must have confused you for someone else, and surely whoever is waiting for their mula will find out your kidnappers snagged the wrong passerby. Sure, you were in Hell for a reason, but your behavior since working at the Hazbin Hotel had improved considerably.

You’d have alerted any of your friends at the hotel of your whereabouts if you could, but the thugs had shaken you of any loose change and electronics the moment you arrived at this dusty, empty warehouse. Angel Dust was the fastest texter, but you were sure he was at the studio by now—in every position except the one that would answer your cries for help.

Was three hours enough of an absence for anyone to be worried? Maybe Charlie would find you tardy for this evening’s lesson and panic, or Vaggie would notice your desk was empty much longer than usual.

You knew someone who would notice the moment your presence became suspiciously absent. Actually, you could name two that would–and who’d come to your rescue in the blink of an eye.

One of them was the very King of Hell himself, Lucifer Morningstar. You met him when Charlie gave him a tour of the hotel all those months ago, and you were immediately taken by his humor and perfect looks, awed by his power and history as an angel. You would like to feel that Lucifer felt those same butterflies upon being introduced to you when you dipped your head and batted your lashes at those pretty eyes of his.

“I heard you built this hotel up from dust with a single thought!” you said, your voice trembling with excitement as he drew closer. “I've never met someone with such a skill in architecture.”

“You flatter me,” the angel chuckled, extending an open palm, “but also undermining my powers. I’m so much cooler than that. Let me show you!”

In a burst of red magic, a yellow rubber ducky appeared with a comical pop, and you blinked in surprise at the familiar face staring back. The ducky looked… just like you, and a smile spread across your features at the silly little you, reaching out a finger to brush across its beak. 

“That is pretty cool,” you affirmed with a laugh, meeting his prideful gaze, “I never thought I’d look so cute as a duckling!”

“You do that all on your own. Here, you can have it.” Lucifer held out the duck with a wink, and your eyes widened in delight, and you quickly lifted a hand. “Just a generous gift from your gracious, very impressed King of Hell!”

When your fingers brushed against his, it was like feeling earth’s sunlight on your cheeks again, a warmth that spread up your arm and had your shoulders loosening in relief from unnoticed tension. Taking the toy in your hands with sudden, fresh energy, you turned it for a close inspection. It felt real, rubbery, and smooth against your palm. It definitely sounded real when you squeezed its little body, and it quacked, like a real duck! 

When you lifted your head, he had been dragged off by his daughter to finish touring the halls, and you were left with a pounding heart. 

You brushed a thumb across the little duck, warmth rising in your cheeks from the encounter with the angelic man until your smile faltered as his words echoed in your mind.

Very impressed. Did he… like you? The conversation had been brief but charged, and you hoped to see him again and learn the real Lucifer Morningstar, not just the King of Hell. If Charlie could win him over with that visit to Heaven, that is.

That was your first interaction with him–and not your last, either. He began visiting the hotel quite often, reconnecting with his daughter and lending a hand behind the scenes whenever she desired. Lucifer always made time for you, too. 

Giving you colorfully themed rubber duckies became his little tradition, gifting them with theatrics and compliments that had your cheeks hot every time. Lucifer’s features always glowed when you laughed at his stupid dad jokes and stared in awe at the creations he took the most joy in.

The morning you had been kidnapped, you reached for your phone, clicked on the contact with a rubber ducky icon, and typed a quick message while heading for the lobby.

[You: Going to the bar with some friends next to the sweet shop. Want one for the next time you stop by?]

[King of Ducks: You know I can just snap my fingers and make a dozen, right?]

You were shocked to see Lucifer had answered immediately; that was rare for the reclusive king. He had gotten better at including himself into the hotel and as a normal member of hellish society, and you liked to think that was in part due to your efforts. 

[You: Yes, but their desserts are good. Plus, when was the last time you went out and ate non-magically cooked food?]

[King of Ducks: Yeah… no thanks. I don’t trust anything made by sinners. How about I dig around for my last bag of Eden Apples and whip up an appetizer for dinner tonight? Will you be at the hotel?]

[You: Yes, I will only be out for a few hours. See you then!]

[King of Ducks: Can’t wait. ʚ(•ө•)ɞ]

You weren’t sure how to categorize your relationship with the King of Hell. You were one of the very few people he spoke to and who he enjoyed talking to, yet there had never been a confession or a kiss, just outings and shared time at the hotel that bordered on date nights.

Could Lucifer be at the hotel now, waiting for you to eat caramel apples with him? He’d get worried, but would he be able to navigate the hurdles of modern technology to track her phone to the warehouse? That might be a problem. You sighed, hope diminishing as you watched one demon clean the barrel of his gun.

There was one more, however. A powerful demon that knew almost every corner of the rugged outskirts of Pentagram City, where he practiced his expanding powers on criminals just like the scum that gossiped about their latest murders below you. 

“Alastor, I'm going out to the bar.” You had stood in the doorway to the lobby earlier today, lips curving into a soft smile as you tipped your chin up to meet the crimson gaze of the fluffy-eared and charismatic facility manager. “Just visiting some friends, I won’t be long. Save a spot for me at dinner, okay?”

Alastor’s gaze lingered on you, the sharp edges of his grin softening. “But of course, my dear,” he purred, his voice full of warmth. “Take your time, enjoy your evening. I’ll make sure there’s a spot just for you—waiting, as always.”

Alastor always knew where you were heading, partly because he was technically your boss—since you sat as the concierge and receptionist for the hotel—but also because you felt completely safe wherever your journey would lead if you knew the infamous overlord was watching your back. 

The terror he inflicted on any bystander who heard his name didn’t rub you so terribly, not when they had even deadlier crimes. They were in Hell, yet the demon’s only victims had been those clutching pearls of insatiable greed and power, ones that wished to climb the ladder by slaughtering anyone who opposed their seat of violence. 

Alastor was the one who welcomed you into the hotel in the beginning when he found you scrounging for scraps in the alleyways like some feral cat. He had approached you with interest, and when your eyes set upon the infamous Radio Demon who offered you a warm place to sleep and delicious food to fill your growling stomach, you had almost taken it in a heartbeat.

Then, you remembered who exactly this demon was.

“If you think I will make a deal with you, think again! I’m not that desperate to sell my soul!” You backed into a brick wall with a glare.

“Nonsense, I would never ask such a thing.” He brushed off your words with a dismissive wave of his hand. “All I ask in return for room and board is for you to work. Tell me, are you efficient with modern communication devices?

“Yes, I can operate a phone.” You had held back an odd smile.

“Excellent! That is all I require.” Alastor had taken you by the elbow to lead you toward the large, seemingly abandoned building at the top of a grassy hill. “I disdain all these newfangled gadgets that have taken over our wonderful city. I have no use for it, but alas, it is a staple of our world now, so we must become accustomed to stepping out of our comfort zone.”

You had listened to him chatter about the modern world's problems in comfortable silence. Although strange, his voice was smooth and lively, diverting all of your attention to the eloquent words that easily rolled off his tongue. 

No stranger had ever offered you such kindness, especially in a place like Hell, and you were determined to make the most of it. Alastor did not seem to mind your company, even when he showed subtle resistance to the companionship of the others in the hotel, like Angel Dust, who always tried to wind up the demon with constant references to his provocative career choice.

He even let you catch the fireflies in his strange but breathtaking pocket lagoon hidden in the shadows of his room. They danced across the soaked grass, lighting up in soft, yellow hues that blinked a trail across the darkness, one that you followed eagerly with a glass jar in your grip.

With gentle hands, you entrapped three… four… five lightning bugs into their new glass home, where they lit the darkness between your palms, like clutching gold sparkling in the sunlight.

Alastor watched you with an amused smile as you took joy in such a meaningless endeavor. Catching bugs to light up a jar, what a silly little idea. 

But… what a cute little endeavor. Innocent fun that brought light to the most beautiful aspects of the natural world familiar to his childhood home in the South. One of the few things he missed about the painful, mortal world above. 

When a flickering cloud hovered over the murky pond’s edge, you stood right at the water as it lapped at your feet and leaned as far as you could over the shimmering depths. Outreaching your arms, you reached for the fireflies dancing just out of reach with a quiet grunt.

Right as you clamped the lid shut on a flurry of lights, the dewy, slick grass beneath your feet sent you stumbling into the pond. You dropped the jar and flailed, squeezing your eyes shut to await the cold plunge into the muddy water.

Nothing came, however. Only the feeling of a sturdy force wrapped tightly around your midsection. Your eyelids fluttered open, and you tipped your chin down to find a green, smokey tentacle holding you steadily, with another clutching the fallen jar above the pond’s motionless surface. 

“In the mood for a midnight swim, hm?” Alastor teased, and you twisted your head to face him, surprise written across your features. 

He snapped his fingers, and the tentacles slithered back into the middle of the clearing. Carefully lowering you onto the soil, they dropped the container into your open palms before dissipating into the air.

“You caught me!” You breathed in relief. 

“Of course I did.” Alastor chuckled, tone softening as he looked you over. “I can’t have you slipping away from me too easily; who will try my Cajun sauce when you are not around?”

“I do like your sauce,” you replied with a laugh. “Thank you; I’d rather not be soaking wet trying to care for these little guys.” 

He watched you closely, a hint of amusement lingering in his eyes as you carefully cradled the jar. The way the soft lights danced against your face seemed to draw his gaze, and for a moment, the usual mischief in his expression faded into something more contemplative.

“What will you do with them, if I may ask?” He tilted his head.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, following the flickering lights between your palms in a trance. “I just think they’re beautiful. Maybe as a bedside night light? Or, we could use it as lanterns for the hallways. Angel Dust would be grateful for a path back to his room during late nights returning from the studio.”

“An interesting idea. I’m always touched by your capacity to care for the wellbeing of others,” he had replied, a genuine warmth underneath the faint static of his honeyed voice.

Your cheeks warmed at the compliment, and you hid a bashful smile by pulling the jar closer to your face. A thought struck you suddenly, and the container lowered in your hands as your brows furrowed. You glimpsed at Alastor’s door behind you, lips tipping downward. 

“Wait, isn't this all apart from your room? Which means when I leave, they’ll just… vanish?”

The Radio Demon watched your falling features in surprise, struck by the fact this was emotionally tolling on you. A pang of… something strange had his chest tightening, a feeling Alastor hadn’t felt since he watched his mother cry over an antique vase that shattered after he had romped with the dog a little too wildly as a boy.

Why would he deny you something so innocent and harmless? He’d find no joy in restricting you from taking the silly little creatures with you. 

He may be a demon, but he wasn’t a monster.

“Usually… yes,” Alastor began, lifting a claw to tap gently on the jar’s lid, “but I see no disadvantage in giving you a little sample of my home.”

The glass fizzled with green energy, the fireflies growing anxious by the strange magic that consumed the jar for only a moment. The jar sizzled out like a dying bulb, and the remaining demonic aura sent tingles through your fingertips.

That smile of yours wrapped him tighter around your finger, and your eyes widened in wondered delight. You met his crimson gaze with a hurried thanks and dashed out of his room to find the perfect spot for your twinkling lantern. Your quick farewell didn’t bother Alastor; he knew you’d be back to collect more, and he’d greet you once more with the usual dapper grin. 

You weren’t sure what your relationship with Alastor was, either: but, you knew he would come to your rescue at a moment’s notice. Except, he would never set foot near any gadget that could ping your location. So… how would he find you? Were you doomed to be swinging from the ceiling forever?

Then, your hands settled upon a tiny object still deep in your pocket. Lifting it to view, your eyes lit with an idea. 

A paper clip, one that you could transform into a makeshift lockpick. It was a good thing you knew how to pick locks. Very well, if you were to brag. Bending the metal with practiced ease, you scooted to the lock that kept you sealed away and quietly slipped the clip’s end into the tiny hole. You strained your ears, listening for the familiar clicks that would lead to your grand escape. 

“You son of a bitch!” One of the demons snarled below, slamming his fist onto the table as he glared at the player across from him, startling you. “I know you cheated!” 

“It’s called being a sore loser,” the other drawled, swirling the liquor in his glass. “It's not my fault you’re this bad at—”

“Excuse me, gentleman.”

Their heads snapped to the open doorway across the floor, your eyes trailing up the finely-tailored red suit until they landed on a pair of fluffy ears and tiny antlers that stuck out from the top of his head.

“Alastor!” You cried happily from above, wiping your brow with relief.

His gaze flicked to your figure dangling above the criminals, who rose slowly with deadly glares at the new arrival. They lowered back onto the men around the table, his grin sharpening as it widened from ear to ear, and his nails tapped against the microphone on his staff.

“I believe you’ve taken someone who does not belong to you,” Alastor continued, boredom lacing his tone, “return them, and I will grant you a less painful death.”

The room was unfathomably silent. The only sound reaching your ears was your own heartbeat thumping against your ribcage as you watched the scene below in breathless anticipation.

“Is that him?” One of the thugs whispered, and another nodded with a set jaw.

“Yes, but he’s outnumbered twenty to one. We can take him.” He pulled an angelic blade from his sheath. “Alert the rest of our men. The Radio Demon won’t last for much longer.” 

His accomplice obliged, and Alastor let them go, thrilled by the added challenge as he took another step forward.

“Well?” He hummed, looking at the men expectantly.

One parted their lips, beginning to speak, until the overhead lights flickered and fizzled out, except for one on the opposite end of the warehouse. Everyone, even Alastor, furrowed their brows in confusion. 

“Behold!” A disembodied voice echoed across the long space, dripping with theatrical flair. You perked at the familiar tone, a smile tugging at your lips. The remaining light in the warehouse intensified, casting an exaggerated, almost divine glow on the figure emerging from the shadows. 

“The Morning Star has arrived!” Lucifer announced with a flourish, eyes shut and arms outstretched as if addressing an adoring crowd. 

Unfortunately, he was faced in the opposite direction of the crowd. Alastor’s smile faltered at the sight of the short king before it sharpened even further, and his claws clenched around his staff.

“And I am here to—! Oh.” Lucifer’s yellow gaze met the wall, and he pivoted on the heels of his boots to face the group across the warehouse, snapping his fingers and vanishing in red smoke.

In an explosion of confetti, the angel popped into existence beside Alastor, and Lucifer’s grin grew in devilish triumph.

“As I was saying.” He cleared his throat to the jaw-dropped onlookers, twirling his apple-tipped cane in his fingers. “I am here to relieve you all of life, forever, since you can’t keep your hands to yourself like decent people.” 

The thugs blinked, glancing between each other. Some looked like they were about to beeline for the exit, while others only bared their teeth in anger.

“Did you follow me here?” Alastor ground out, eye twitching as he twisted his head with a crack to side-eye the king.

“No!” Lucifer replied with a huff. “This is my city, remember. I know my way around these parts just fine.”

“I was here first,” Alastor hissed, adjusting his suit with a hmph. “This is my rescue. Don’t you have some toys to play with back home?” 

“Still up here!” You called from the bars of your cell, peering down at the two bickering men with an eye roll.

They looked up at your crouched figure, then at each other with calculating glares, and finally rested on the mass of criminals before them, more pouring in from the open doors.

“Watch and learn, bellhop.” Lucifer rolled up his sleeves and stepped toward the group of thugs who clutched their angelic weapons with trembling fingers.

He lifted a hand, pointing a finger gun toward the closest demon, whose eyes widened as the King of Hell aligned his sights as he looked down the imaginary barrel of a gun.

With an audible “pew!” A firework shot from Lucifer’s fingertip, slamming into one of the demon's stomachs and skyrocketing him out a window with a shriek. 

The darkening sky lit up in a burst of sparkling colors, and a thunderous boom shook the building. The thugs around the table blinked, glancing at each other warily as the apple-cheeked man clasped his hands and looked at them expectantly.

“Anyone else?” Lucifer smiled with shark-like teeth, brushing the dust from his coat. 

They gulped, lowering their weapons, but the largest demon, a centipede-like man who stood three or four Alastor’s tall, hissed in rage and lifted six silver, gleaming pistols toward the angel, all clutched in its multiple pairs of arms. 

If the angels could be felled by their own steel as they did during their attack on the city only two weeks ago, surely their once-heavenly king could fall from it, too. There was too much money on the line to flee just yet. The demon pulled each trigger simultaneously, and Lucifer quirked a brow.

“Huh, that’s efficient,” he said as bullets flew past his hat, and he ducked quickly to avoid them. 

Alastor threw up a shield of green, the bullets from the rest of the thugs ricocheting off the powerful barrier and zipping across the floor, hitting one of the demons right in the chest with a pained gasp.

“Do not worry your fragile little crown.” The Radio Demon stepped forward, waving off the king without a glance. “I will handle these delinquents.”

“There’s not a chance in Hell I’m letting you have all the fun,” Lucifer replied, and he pulled a long, fiery whip from within his coat. 

The whip crackled with an infernal glow, flames licking the air as it uncoiled. He cracked it against the floor, splitting the concrete and leaving scorch marks across its surface. With a snarl to charge, the thugs surged forward, brandishing their weapons and aiming their guns at the two men’s foreheads without faltering.

In an unspoken competition, your dual saviors readied themselves, green tentacles curling around Alastor protectively as a few snaked forward and throttled a group of demons while another threw one out the already-broken window. His antlers extended, eyes turning to radio dials as his form grew and shifted into a demonic monstrosity, claws extended for the succulent fleshbags before him.

Lucifer lashed out with his whip, the flames searing the air as it wrapped around the largest demon’s pistols, yanking them from its grasp with a force that sent the weapons clattering to the floor. With a flick of his wrist, the whip coiled around the centipede-man’s legs, dragging it down to its knees. 

“Kneel before your king,” Lucifer sneered. He gave the whip a final, violent crack, sending the demon sprawling across the ground, flames licking at its many dismembered appendages.

Lucifer danced across the room, ducking and diving as he karate-chopped a demon, and they exploded into colorful paper mache. Alastor grew twice the size, his antlers lengthening and his eyes shifting into radio dials as he plucked a snarling criminal from the floor and swallowed him whole. 

You did not want to sit around and take a stray bullet to the heart, so you continued picking the lock with hasty fingers. Bullets flew past your cage, but you did not halt the task as you heard the familiar clicks of unlocking mechanisms. 

Realizing their chances were much slimmer than initially thought, some of the men hurried away, teeth chattering in fear, as they left the rest of their friends to be eaten by the hulking red demon and set on fire by balls of flame that engulfed Lucifer’s hands.

The final click had the lock to your cell plummeting to the ground, bonking one thug on the head, and he face-planted onto the concrete with a groan. 

“I did it!” You beamed, chest swelling with a rare ego.

The door swung open, and you poked your head out, watching with a fluttering heart as the two contrasting figures worked in tandem to rescue you.

A tendril curled around the last demon’s leg, dragging him toward the gaping maw of the Radio Demon as he cried out in fear. The sudden force had his finger curling around the trigger, discharging a silver bullet that flew right above your head and shattered the chain that kept you suspended with a piercing shriek of metal.

The cage fell, and you along with it. With a gasp, you helplessly grasped at the bars, squeezing your eyes shut for the impending pain and misery as the floor rushed to meet you.

Six wings spread quickly, and Lucifer sprang forward, arms outstretched to catch your screaming figure midair. The cage around you burst in a plume of red smoke, and you coughed, brushing away the lingering smoke as your heart pounded. Your eyes lifted to meet Lucifer’s soft gaze, the overwhelming relief washing over you like a wave, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to his warmth and safety.

“Are you alright?” He asked, scanning your body for any injuries. Heaven only knows what he would have done if you had any.

“Now that you two are here, I've never been better,” you replied with happy tears brimming. 

“Right, that guy is also here.” Lucifer rolled his eyes, glancing at Alastor’s shrinking figure as the demon licked his lips in satisfaction. “I hope you know I could have done everything without him.”

Of course, you did. He was the King of Hell. You shook your head with a smile as he descended smoothly, carefully lowering you onto two feet. Your chest was still heaving from the adrenaline as your gaze fleeted across the broken bodies littered across the ground, stomach churning at the sight.

Alastor strolled forward, taking his turn to examine you. His smile had receded, softening at the edges as he sidled up to you.  

“You know, you handle yourself quite well under pressure without assistance. I knew your skills would come in handy someday. Although, in a few more minutes, I would have been there to free you without fuss.”

“Except I'm the one who caught them. That is a sole save in my books,” Lucifer cut in before you could speak. “All you did was have a late-night snack and ruin my good mood.”

“Preposterous. It was I who took care of most of these nuisances and saved our dear one,” Alastor chuckled dryly, shaking his head. “Without me, you’d have only been floundering against the opposition like a frail duckling in alligator waters.”

“I’m so thankful that you both saved me,” you proclaimed, eyes shining with gratitude as you locked elbows with both men at your sides, “I couldn’t be more grateful for the rescue. Why don’t we get some celebratory drinks from Sinbucks on the way back? A hot cup of black joe and an Earl Grey tea for my handsome saviors.”

“Fine.” Alastor shrugged, not sparing a glance at the man on the other side of you. “But only if this blathering fool pays for it.” 

“Anything for you,” Lucifer agreed, winking your way, “but your friend here better wait outside on the curb. I’m sure they wouldn’t like a rabid animal stinking up the place.”

With a giggle, you pulled them along and left the warehouse, strolling down the trashed streets with a skip in your step. 

You glanced at both of them, pleased and content with just being near you. There was never a dull moment with either of them at your side, or with them together, for that matter, and you wished times like these lasted longer.

Although, you hoped that could happen without being kidnapped next time. 

heyyy guys 😇 im back!! sort of. more like i took a break in writing my novel (roughly 70k words in) to work on an idea i’ve had for awhile but didn’t have the motivation for until now. also, summer overtime at my job and physical therapy have shortened my spare time to do anything… ick.

but now i’m freeeee!! so have this “little” guy for now, and i’ll have more to feed you all soon! now time to crawl back in my hole and write 🥲 goodbye 🤍

taglist 🏷️ (combined characters, 1/2)

@ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @froggybich @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @wings-of-sapphire @the-tortured-poet @enigmatic-blues @bethleeham @blue122 @cherry-4200 @azullynx @luzzbuzz @for-hearthand-home @helluvapoison @th3-st4r-gur1 @concentratedconcrete @cimadreamer @marsenbie @guacam011y @maxiskindahere @purplerose291 @fictional-character-whore @0willowwisp0 @yourlocalgoldenretrieverboy @wpdarlingpan @halo-balo @chipper-chip @lvstyangel @acrazyartist @midorichoco @ivebeenthearchersstuff @indestructeible @otherthoughtsofbu @anonymousewrites @watchinthestarz @mechanicalmari @luxmessorem @cherry-cola-100

[visionsofmagic]

◜ mk1 men when you meet with their evil versions [+bonus]◞

▸ characters: raiden, johnny cage,  kuai liang, tomas & [+bonus} bi han: meeting with his good version ◂ ▸wc: 2.7k

▸ tags&notes: drabble, fluff, hurt/comfort, spicy, flirting, touching, gentle, rough, lots of usage of version & timeline words (like in the game, lol), dilemma, betrayal, angst (a little bit), humor, use of y/n, pet names, no specification of gender (as I remember), well, ‘s all I guess? (lol, this is the mixed tags I have ever wrote, but, it’s a drabble, so… enjoy!◂ ▸ m.

RAIDEN can be one of the most precious men you have met, and falling for him is the rightest thing that has happened to you – however, contrary to how a loving boyfriend he is in your timeline, he’s the opposite one when it comes to his another version you have come across.

everything about his evil, the version seems all the same and different at the same time as he makes his way towards you, having the red color on unlike what your raiden wear normally. the only thing that reminds of him is the hat that covers his face from you until he slowly raises his head, eyes glowing red while looking at you from above. the danger is radiating from his presence, giving you a cold chill down your spine, making you crawl back step by step because of being on your ass, sitting on the ground after the fight has begun between you and the other timeline.

“oh,” he says, a smirk appears on his pretty face – not the one your raiden has, the one that is the representation of the most beautiful flower in the entire world, no, this one gives the feeling of an ivy full of poison. “y/n?” gulping, you remember the words that left liu kang’s mouth about how raiden once lost himself and sought the power to protect the earthrealm at any cost. 

you stop when your back touches a wall, leaving no place to run either when raiden kneels before you, red lightning traveling on his body that looks so powerful that you find yourself getting weak – not only because of the aura he has unlike the one the raiden you know has, but also because how it seems that he pulls you closer to him. somehow, he makes you lose all logical sides of your brain with the way he looks down at you; prevailing.

“raiden?” you ask, sounding soft which earns a smirk from him as he holds you by the chin.

“oh my love, you’re so soft – so fragile. it seems your raiden doesn’t give you enough – he is still weak. with that power, he can’t protect you, but I can,” his fingers move from your chin to your cheek, and lightning under his skin tickles yours. “come with me. I will protect you and the earthrealm from any danger out there.”

“I can’t –“ you utter, sounding not so sure of the decision but your heart knows the best – and that is to stay beside your raiden, the one who has you completely, not the one seeking power even though he needs to end his friends’ life or even another timeline to accomplish it. “I will never leave my raiden’s side.”

“how loyal,” he says, both irritated by the fact that your bond with the raiden in your timeline can’t be broken and proud of how loyal you’re for your love. “I wish we met in my timeline.”

with his confession, he leaves you behind, going to fight with others – how ironic, he comes here to end any life form yet he shows mercy when it comes to you. whatever it is that makes him do that, doesn’t matter, you say to yourself as you get up and go to help your raiden, hoping he will never turn evil.

JOHNNY CAGE in your own timeline is flirtatious and teasing enough – or as you thought until you see his evil version from another timeline after the great fight has begun. you can’t distinguish him from your johnny – but the moment his eyes find you, admiring how you easily defeat one his companions on the way to the top, he whistles playfully.

when you turn to see him, ready to make a moral lesson about how he shouldn’t be humoristic in a fight for death and life, you see his eyes scanning your body from head to toe shamelessly. realization hits you like a ball in the face; he’s not your johnny. he doesn’t care about anything in the world, well, your johnny didn’t either before meeting with you. 

acknowledging that you see the danger when he winks at you, eyes finally directed to your face. “well, hello cutie. aren’t you such a beauty who will make aphrodite jealous?” he leaves a chuckle when you roll your eyes. without positioning a fight stance, you begin to walk towards him so that you can pass by his side – you can’t stand a version of johnny who is cockier and open-mouthed.

“woah woah,” he stops in front of you, hands on his chest, smirking, “already going, baby? c’mon, there is no man who deserves your attention as I do – not even your johnny if there is one.”

crossing your arms, a weary expression lightens your face up – still, you can feel the heat rushing to your body because of his flirty manner and words. johnny cage will be able to make you giggle with his demeanor with every version of him, won’t he?

“what do you want? a fight? then do it with someone else.” a dismissive hand movement makes him close the gap between you, eyes shining at your words.

“why pretty? can’t hit my handsome face? I bet you love seeing it.”

“u-huh,” you say, smiling as you put a hand on his shoulder, winking at him when he gets excited at the action. “you’re right I can’t hit my boyfriend’s pretty face,” you show his back, “but he can.”

when he turns around after you take a few steps back to leave enough room for your boyfriend to hit his own-self’s face with a strong punch, you chuckle. it’s a sight that will never leave your mind. 

“hey pretty,” your johnny says, gripping you by the waist and pulling you closer. chest to chest, he puts a kiss on your lips, acting like there’s no battle happening around you, taking the taste of you that he missed so much even though he had you before this hell. “you missed me so much that you began to chat with cheaper versions of me?”

“of course not. no one can be like you baby.”

“oh hell yeah!” he chuckles, taking you by the hand, “then, let’s kick some ass, well,” he takes a quick look around before turning to you, “our ass.”

KUAI LIANG of your timeline can’t be looking as dangerous as his evil version even when he has a venomous fire radiating directed to the enemies. your boyfriend tends to have a tender side in him, especially for you. he’s the fire itself – using it to burn the ones who deserve it, and for warming you at any cost, in any place because he loves you so much that he can’t let himself go all wide beside you.

however, his evil version is nothing similar to him – maybe in a few situations but not on the battlefield in which no single soul can escape from the wrath scorpion has.

watching him from afar, for a moment, you can’t help but feel both power flowing through his armored body within the flames rising on the outline of his build, and hatred. 

he mesmerizes you in aspects it shouldn’t have – how can you feel a connection between an evil version of kuai liang when you’re destined to protect your own realm, fighting right beside your boyfriend? guilt rushing to you as scorpion becomes aware of your existence, looking at you after he takes down an ally – your wide eyes that do not leave him is the impulse of it. 

“hmm,” he says, slowly approaching you – you try to move, you really do but you simply can’t, not when every step he takes towards you sends a jolt of excitement and fear to your core, alerting you to either run so fast or stay still and you choose the second option without realizing it until he stops in front of you. “liked what you see, princess?” 

he flirts, teases, and even sounds as if your kuai liang except he has a bloodcurdling tone in his voice. 

when you don’t respond, eyes scanning his suit – looks like he came from straight hell, or he’s the hell, he scoffs, gloved hand replaces under your chin, pulling you closer to him as you rise on your toes to reach his height, hands finding his chest not to fall. “isn’t my version in this timeline enough for you that you eyeing me too? maybe he’s not good at satisfying you.”

heat rising within you, you can’t stop looking at his eyes – burning with flames, magically, yet seeming real as the blood covering his suit. you want to feel disgusted, but you’re far away from having such emotion. 

when he lowers his head, closer to you, you hear kuai liang’s voice behind you – taking you from daydreaming to reality, making you realize you let his evil version do whatever he wants with you. “y/n!”

with such speed, you get away from him, ready to stay in fighting style when your kuai liang covers your body like a shield, standing between you and his evil version.

“you should go,” he says, taking a look at your face as he prepares himself to battle with an armored scorpion whose eyes never leave yours, still attempting to capture you. attempt fails when you shake your head negatively when kuai liang adds, “I will deal with him.”

“no,” you sound certain, standing beside your boyfriend, an assuring smile on your face, “we will fight together.”

evil version only chuckles at that, darkly, and with that, “if it’s what you wish, my love.”

“not yours. mine. and I will make sure to show you that.”

TOMAS’ determination is visible through his movements, unlike the one yours has, his eyes bright with such madness that your heart begins to pound in fear, not knowing whether he sees you as a treat or not – yet, he should, in the end, you’re not his partner in his timeline and he’s here to fight, not spare you just because his soft version gives his heart to you.

“tomas –“ the words leave your mouth, no particular control on it since it just splits out of you easily, to get a reaction from tomas – a good one.

“not your tomas,” he utters, playing with his karambit knife to show the readiness he has, waiting for the exact moment to attack you or defend himself if you take a sudden move, yet, you two agree upon a thing even without knowing it; neither he or you’re brave enough to hurt another, not when you have the love of his version in your timeline – his reason is unknown though. “I am better.”

“maybe you’re, maybe you’re not. it doesn’t matter,” you say, trying to find a feature that has hints of goodness in it by watching him raise one of his eyebrows, clearly curious about the rest of your speech. “for me, my tomas is the best, and he will remain as one.”

he chuckles, “is that so?” he’s more excited than you expect him to be. arms unite on his chest, making him look more dominant than you used to see. “I wonder what he does for you to say that – believe that.”

“he’s not hurting me,” he shuts you down – the thing your tomas will never do, he’s such a gentleman.

“I am not hurting you either,” seeing your relaxed body, he shakes his head, and with a smoke pump, he disappears in sight only to appear behind you, hands hugging you from behind, caging you inside his arms – tight enough to not let you go yet tenderness can be felt as well. he whispers into your ear from his mask, chin touching your shoulder as you take deep breaths because of the proximity you begin to share. other than your boyfriend tomas, you don’t get close with people and since he’s tomas but a more evil version from somewhere else, it feels odd – and excitement mixing within. “but I can’t promise for the future. if you just let me –“

when his fingers find your neck, you push him back, turning around, you take a defense stance, furrowing both at yourself and him – how could he? your tomas would never do things that make you comfortable even in the moments it feels breathtaking. “I should make you regret even suggesting such a thing!”

“no need love,” the time stops for a second, and the heart and soul find the ultimate medicine in the voice of your lover, tomas, whose fingertips touch your upper arms gently, traveling from there until they reach your wrists – his chest touches your back and the remaining marks of his evil version, the ones give you danger, fading away. “at the end of the day, he will not be able to utter any other inappropriate words with you,” staying beside you, he smiles at you – angelic. when he turns to his version, he looks deadly – you have never seen him like this, and from the way he stands, you believe he is determined to make him regret for your sake. “when I am done with him, he will never have the courage to show his face in here.”

“such bigger words from my weaker version,” the other tomas says.

shielding you, tomas bite him back, “I will show you how powerful I can be for my goddess.”

BI HAN’s betrayal still eats you alive, the marks of it have its ghost on your skin and soul; broken pieces, and a wound on the cheek that you got from one of his ice blades he threw to kuai liang whom you intended to protect at any cost, not wanting him to get into a fight with his older brother.

you believed it wasn’t bi han who was speaking – it was his madness that needed to be calmed down – you tried though, you really did but the moment you got hurt, you saw the guilt and concern in his brown eyes before they turned to pure fury as he sought of obedience from all of you.

the brief moment created a bloom in your chest for a spell but it vanished as it came, taking hope into the deepest part of your heart as you watched bi han and kuai liang fight, wishing there wouldn’t be a miscommunication among you all, however, you knew bi han’s obsession with power for lin kuei got more dominant than he felt for you.

it was sad – to see bi han, your bi han, go away from you slowly, not understanding why you don’t agree to be on his side, he feels his own betrayal coming from you – before the fight, he said how he was wounded at your choice – didn’t you love him? he asked and his broken voice now fills your mind as you look at your hands – then, a movement catch your eyes as you wait for the big fight.

“who did this to you?” someone asks – not someone, a voice says, and when his fingertips touch your chin, lifting your head up from where you sit, you see eyes that resemble your bi han. he’s from another timeline, probably in which he doesn’t seek power like the way your bi han does.

tears appear in your eyes, and to hide them, you fend off his gentle touch, not letting him touch the wound directly, “it doesn’t matter anymore.” 

he stays silent, realizing it is bi han, in your realm and he sighs, touching you once again even if you keep as distant as possible you can, not wanting to cry in the middle of a battle area where people go and come as they wait for the upcoming fight. “I am sorry,” he says, and for a moment, you hear the voice of your bi han before coming to your senses.

“it wasn’t you – so, you’re not responsible for saying sorry.”

“but you need it,” he convinces, holding you by the cheek, covering the wound with his palm as if he gives healing through the touch, “and I am here to give it to you.”

you smile, not caring that tears flow into your cheeks, and to his hand – he knows you, not better than your bi han does, but enough to make you sense the comfort you seek within him. “stop talking or I will begin to believe I can beat the bi han’s possession.”

he smiles under his mask, and it reaches his eyes – he looks innocence incarnate. “you will. believe me when I say it, pretty,” he caresses your skin, the free hand positions on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze, “he will learn that there is no greater need except – you, his beloved one.”

💙

[stillmonsterz]

rosebud

pairing: jay x reader, sunghoon x reader genre: smut with plot summary: ever since your mother passed away, your stepfather has been there for you. but when your old crush finally makes a move on you, you find that you want to pursue something different. one night won't change a thing, right? contains: unprotected sex, dubcon, mentions of death, infidelity (?), "humor", piv, blowjobs word count: 8.6k (unproofread) taglist: @belowbun @moon7jay @ui11iane @bambangan A/N: I didn't intend to write this, but here we are. Hope you enjoy it!

You tasted the dish you had made once more before setting the spoon down and closing the lid on the pot. Perfect. Jay would love it. You both worked full-time jobs, but he did so much around the house that you liked to have dinner waiting for him. You were a better cook than him, anyways.

You washed your hands and decided to head to the couch while you waited for him to come home. It was your ritual: when your mom was alive, you, Jay, and her would all sit down and talk about your day before going your separate ways. Your mom had liked to eat dinner alone, so your time to congregate was just when everyone got home. 

Your mother had passed away a few years ago, shortly after her and Jay, your stepfather, had gotten married. It was a car crash, a stupid drunk driver. Just the thought of that night made you curl into yourself. Jay had taken care of you after that. Even though you had been an adult for a while, able to support yourself with your job, he had never even mentioned you moving out. He had moved you and your mother to his lovely house in the suburbs, got you whatever you wanted for your room. To repay his kindness, you liked to do little things for him: cook, do the laundry, mop the floors. It was the least you could do.

The breakers in the doorknob clicked, and Jay walked into the foyer. You tried to rid your mind of the hard times, of the grief. When he saw you, his face brightened. “I smell something good,” he said, taking his shoes off and loosening his tie. He had a high-status, forward-facing job, so Jay wore suits everyday to work. You ironed them for him on the weekend, taking care to put them in protective plastic bags. 

“I made cream pasta,” you said, relaxing onto the couch. “Your favourite.”

“Oh, thank you, sweetheart,” Jay said. “I need it. Was so busy I didn’t get lunch today.” He walked into the living room and gave you a quick peck on the cheek. “Just gonna go wash up, then we can chat, okay?”

“Okay,” you said happily, washing him dip into the downstairs guest bathroom. 

When he came back out, he had loosened his tie so that it hung slackly around his neck. Jay walked over to the couch, tilted your head up, and gave you a long, gentle kiss. He broke the kiss to lower himself onto the couch, settling next to you.

Jay held your hand in his, stroking his thumb over your knuckles. “How was your day?”

You shrugged. “Nothing to report. This guy kept asking for the book ‘Against bad and Good’ by Fyodor Dostoevksy, and eventually I figured out that he meant beyond Good and Evil by Nietzsche.”

Jay laughed. “Was he drunk?”

“Just stupid, I think. How was your day?”

Jay squeezed your hand. “Good, good. I got a lot of work done in preparation for the trip. Had to coordinate with marketing for the proposal, which is always difficult, because marketing is staffed by-,”

“Neanderthals?”

He kissed your cheek. “I’ve taught you well.” You laughed, which earned you an affectionate smile from him. 

“I remember when I heard you laugh for the first time after your mom passed,” Jay said, his other hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “It made me so relieved.”

“It did?”

“Mhm,” he said. “That’s how I knew you would be okay.”

You smiled at him, then, and he leaned in to give you another gentle kiss on the lips. He pulled away slowly, almost teasingly.  You held his cheeks with both hands and brought him back towards you, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. Jay softly groaned into your mouth and wrapped his arms around your lower back, drawing you into him. 

One of his hands strayed towards your chest, and he groped one of your clothed breasts.So it was one of those days. Jay tugged on your lip as he pulled away from the kiss, one hand still lingering on your chest.

“We might have to postpone dinner,” he said, running the side of his finger along your cheek. 

“Why? You’re not hungry?”

“I am,” Jay said, “but for something else.” With that, he leaned in and kissed a sensitive spot under your ear, eliciting a gasp from you. 

“Bedroom?” you asked. 

Jay nodded and lifted you up, holding you bridal-style. As he carried you upstairs, you began unbuttoning his white collared shirt, kissing at the new expanse of skin awarded to you. “I need all the time I can get with you before my trip.”

“Where is it again? Singapore?” you asked before pressing wet kisses on his upper chest. 

“Yeah,” Jay said. “Fuck, I’ll really miss you.”

“It’s only five days.”

“And I’ll miss you every single hour,” he said. He pushed the door to his bedroom open and brought you inside. All of your mom’s stuff had been moved to storage, leaving it an entirely Jay space: white walls, creamy bed-sheets, vintage record-player sitting on a side-table, lounge chair. It was still late afternoon, so golden sunlight shone past the cracks in the blinds and cast a shimmering glow throughout the space.

“I’ll miss you, too,” you said softly. Jay kissed your cheek before resting you on the king-sized bed. You pulled your clothes off quickly, not wanting to waste a second. Jay had the same idea, tossing his suit jacket and pants onto the lounge chair. 

“Iron those for me later, will you?” He strided over to his nightstand to get a condom. While he did so, you began prepping yourself, sliding two fingers in and out of your warm pussy while you rubbed your clit. 

“I will, Jay,” you said. When you saw him approach you, you stopped playing with yourself and leaned down on your elbows. Your mouth watered at the sight of his erect cock.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Jay crawled on top of you and kissed you deeply. His hands ran along the sides of your bare skin, feeling their contours. You had done this with him so many times, but he always managed to make it feel as though he were exploring uncharted territories every time he kissed you. “Do you mind if we do missionary?”

“I’d like that,” you breathed out. You traced your hands along his arms, feeling the taut, tense muscle.

“Good,” Jay said. “I want to see your face.” He gave his cock a few tugs before he slid inside of you with a groan. The stretch was delicious, as usual, and your toes curled as he pushed himself in. Jay gave you both some time to adjust, his eyes closed tightly shut. He owned them and began to move, your creamy pussy welcoming his hard length.

Your hands grasped the back of his neck, stroking the soft hair. “I’ll really miss you,” you said, gasping in between words. Jay’s pace was slow and purposeful, his cock teasing the gummy wall of your G-spot. The bed creaked every time he thrusted into you.

“I’ll miss you more,” he said, driving his cock deeper and deeper into your pussy. “You have no clue just how badly I want you there with me.” Jay’s face was contorted in pleasure, and he dipped down low to suck on your neck. 

“No marks,” you whined, trying to push his face away. “I’m seeing Sungyeon in a few days…”

“Just tell her it was your boyfriend,” Jay mumbled against your neck, nibbling the tender skin. He was always like this just before he went away, clingy and needy. “Or a hookup. I don’t care.”

“Oh,” you sighed. How could you argue with him when his cock felt so good? He canted his hips into yours at an even pace. He never rushed a thing. Even the way he gave you hickeys was careful and slow. 

Jay pulled out of you, and you protested at the sudden emptiness. “Want to taste you before I go,” he said, pressing kisses from your neck to your breasts to your belly-button. Then he lavished attention on your inner thighs, sucking red marks onto them. His lips smacked against your soft skin, and he caressed your legs gently with his large hands. Sometimes Jay would put on his old rnb playlist when you two made love, but you liked this, too, when you could hear everything.

After he had kissed every square inch of your thighs, Jay gently parted your vulva lips. He pecked your clit, too, which made you giggle. The laughs choked in your throat as he began to lave his tongue over your sensitive pearl, ever so softly. He alternated between flicking his tongue and making a swirling motion. Jay’s hands clutched your waist, holding you in place. Your hands threaded into his dark, well-kept hair, and you let out a moan.

Jay brought you to the brink before he pulled away, swallowing in air. “You taste so sweet,” he said. “So sweet.”

“All yours,” you said.

Jay lifted his head back up so that he was face to face with you. “Come taste how sweet you are, baby.” You kissed him, and he stuck his tongue into your mouth so you could better taste your arousal. Your tongues played hide and seek with each other- when Jay would retract his, you would suck it back into your mouth, and vice versa. 

You felt his cock bump the tip of your entrance, and he plunged himself into you once more. You wrapped your legs around him, driving him deeper inside of you. You loved it when his chest pressed against your, when every single part of you felt connected. Jay rocked his hips against yours slowly, lovingly, and you basked in the glow.

After a while, Jay rolled off of you. He planted a kiss on your forehead and held you close, wrapping both arms around you. “Did you want me to finish you off?” Jay shook his head and kissed your neck as he nuzzled into you from behind.

“Wasn’t the point,” he murmured. “Did you want to finish?”

“Wasn’t the point for me either,” you said softly. 

You fell asleep like that, tightly ensconced in Jay’s embrace.

–

You hadn’t exactly meant to start fucking your stepdad. It had started even before your mother had passed. Jay would come inside your room to talk, and you welcomed his company. He was funny, witty, and a good listener. Before you went to work in the mornings, if your mother wasn’t around, he would give you kisses on the cheek as a goodbye. Then the kisses turned into pecks on the lips, which turned into long, slow kisses that left your head spinning. 

The first time he fucked you was when your showerhead had started to act strange. You had wrapped a towel around yourself and called his name. As he pushed past you to examine the problem, your towel had come loose, exposing everything to him. Jay had taken you on the counter mere minutes later, leaving the shower running and shoving a pair of panties in your mouth to muffle the sound. 

For some reason, you had thought that your mother’s death would have killed any chemistry between the two of you. On the contrary; Jay had taken you into the funeral home’s bathroom and fucked you in there. You figured it was a coping mechanism, or something.

In hindsight, nothing about your dynamic had really changed after your mother’s passing. You still talked regularly, you still had frequent sex (frequent enough that Jay begged you to go on birth control), and you still loved to cook for him. 

–

You woke up a few hours later. Jay was already staring at you, a soft smile on his face. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he said jokingly.

“What time is it really?”

Jay glanced at the clock on his nightstand. “6:38.” 

“Ah, I’ll have to rewarm the pasta…” 

“It’s no rush,” Jay said, stroking your shoulder. “Not that hungry anymore.”

You smiled and kissed his nose playfully. “You’re full?”

“For now,” Jay said. “I might need more later.”

“Don’t you dare leave any more marks,” you said. “Sungyeon won’t leave me alone if you do.”

“Are you sure you’re worried about Sungyeon, or her scrawny brother?” 

You snorted. “Sunghoon? I’m not worried about him.”

“You told me you had a little crush on him,” Jay replied.

“It’s just a crush. It’s nothing. He probably wouldn’t even know what to do with a woman.” It was a partial lie. You had seen women who definitely weren’t Sungyeon’s friends slip into the Park household. Many of them were repeat visitors, so you figured that Sunghoon probably was good. But what Jay didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.

“Probably not,” Jay said with a sniff. “Kids like that only want one thing, and they’re not good at it.”

“Not like you,” you said.

Jay grinned and kissed your lips. “Exactly. I take care of you, don’t I?”

“So well, Jay.” You started to draw little patterns on his chest. “So, so well.”

Jay rolled you on top of him, hands traveling down to our lower back. “You need me to take care of you again?”

“Please.”

You didn’t get to eat dinner until 10 o’clock.

–

You had Saturday off, but Jay still had work to finish up at the office before he left for his business trip on Monday. You agreed to go grocery shopping together after work so you could have Sunday all to yourselves. Sungyeon was also free, so you decided to go around to her place. She lived a few houses away from your place; you had met her while you were on a jog. Neither of you were the most sociable people, so it was great to have a friend who was so calm and who lived so close. 

It helped that she had a cute older brother. He was only a few years older, and he had recently moved back home due to the poor economy. Their parents made good money, but he had wanted to be independent from his parents when he turned 18. You knew all this because Sungyeon told you, not because Sunghoon had ever spoken with you about anything even remotely personal. He treated you like a houseguest. You didn’t mind because you had Jay, but in the brief moments when you considered getting into a more traditional relationship, Sunghoon was always the first person to come to mind.

You walked over to Sungyeon’s house, a two-storied building not at all dissimilar to your own. You clambered up the steps and rang the doorbell. 

“Door’s open,” she called, so you let yourself in and locked the door behind you. “I’m in the kitchen!” 

You had come over to spend the morning and afternoon watching Marvel movies, and Sungyeon had promised to make snacks. Indeed, when you walked into the kitchen, you smelled something sweet yet burnt. Sungyeon was dropping a pan of partially burnt Rice Krispie squares onto the stovetop. 

“How’d you fuck up Rice Krispies?” you asked, grabbing a knife from their drawer. 

“Shut up,” Sungyeon whined. “I was trying to be domestic. For you. Because I care.”

“Should have cared about setting an oven timer,” you retorted, cutting a chunk out of the Rice Krispies. 

Sungyeon frowned. “Don’t eat that. It’s still hot.”

“Won’t even bother me,” you said. You used the knife to place the gooey treat onto a paper towel and raised it to your lips. One bite and your mouth was on fire. “Ow!”

“Dumbass,” Sungyeon grumbled. You fanned your mouth frantically and she meandered while she got you a glass of water, relishing in your despair. 

As you tearfully gulped down the water, Sunghoon walked into the kitchen. He was wearing a baggy gray T-shirt over black sweatpants, and he looked exhausted. He was a serial gamer, so chances were he stayed up playing League or Overwatch with his friends Heeseung or Jake. He looked at you, then Sungyeon. “What’s that smell?”

“I made Rice Krispie squares,” Sungyeon muttered. “But they’re bu-,”

Sunghoon was already cutting a piece out of the pan and shoving it into his mouth. He coughed. “Fuck, it’s hot.” He kept eating it despite the apparent pain, wandering back upstairs.

“Two freaks,” Sungyeon said, rubbing your back. 

Once you caught your breath, you said, “Maybe we should also get some cereal.”

Sungyeon breathed out a defeated sigh. “Probably the best idea.” You got the bowls and spoons, and she got the cereal and milk. Once you had prepared your bowls, you set out to the living room. Sungyeon accidentally knocked into you, spilling milk over your front. 

“What’s up with you today?” you said with a smile, putting your cereal down.

“Mercury retrograde,” she said. “You can go put your hoodie in the wash. I’ll bring it to you on Monday. Get something out of my closet if you want.”

“Gracias,” you said, heading up the stairs. Their laundry room was located conveniently on the second floor, so all you had to do was take a hoodie from Sungyeon’s room and change in the laundry room. When you took off your tank top, you examined it carefully to make sure that you didn’t get any milk on that as well. The last thing you needed was to smell warm milk as you watched your movie. As you looked down at your chest, you noticed that Sunghoon had left his hamper of dirty clothes here. You knew it was his because you had seen him wear every shirt in the pile at least fifty times since you had known him. 

“Wow,” you heard a voice say. You turned and saw Sunghoon, standing behind you with his arms crossed. “You hide them well.” His eyes, you realized, were trained directly on your chest, and a faint smile graced his lips. 

“I don’t hide them at all,” you said. “You just haven’t been looking.” No way were you going to pass up an opportunity to flirt with Sunghoon. Given your status as his sister’s friend and his casual sex habit, you doubted anything would come of it anyways. You were certain that Jay probably had wandering eyes, too.

“Maybe you’re right,” Sunghoon said. He stepped a little closer and tapped your neck. “Who gave you this?”

You tilted your head. “Why do you care?” 

Sunghoon rested his hand on your shoulder, his thumb pulling at the strap of your tank top. “I need to know who my competition is.” 

“Didn’t realize there was a competition.”

Sunghoon lifted his hand away, shoving it into his sweatpants pocket. “Then you haven’t been looking.”

You shrugged your hoodie on over your tank top. “I was looking for years, actually. You missed your opportunity.”

Sunghoon scrunched his nose, and you didn’t think he knew how cute he looked. “You didn’t act like you were interested.”

Leaning against the washing machine, you looked him up and down. “Then you don’t know shit about women.”

He leaned in, his smirk growing. “I know a lot about women. You gonna let me show you, or are you gonna dub me?” 

You paused, weighing your options. Finally, you walked past him, turning around at the last minute to say, “I’m going to go watch Marvel movies with your sister.”

“Can I join you?”

“Nice try.”

Sunghoon shrugged and started walking to his room. “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t try.” 

You shook your head and went down to remake your bowl of cereal. So now you knew that Sunghoon really was interested in you, after years of ignoring you. You wouldn’t let it phase you, though. You had Jay. Sungyeon didn’t even know that you weren’t a virgin, let alone that you were fucking your ex-stepdad. You didn’t know if you could ever tell anyone about your arrangement. 

–

When Jay picked you up from Sungyeon’s place, you didn’t dare mention what happened with Sunghoon to you. Normally, you mentioned anything that happened with a man, and Jay would lament about the many women at the office who wanted him. But you couldn’t talk about Sunghoon, not when he had made your heart race like that. 

“I was thinking,” Jay began, driving with one hand, the other resting on your thigh, “we could go to this new store. They have these novelty fruits, like blue carrots. Does that sound good to you?”

“Sounds great, Jay,” you said, a little absent-mindedly. 

Jay caught the hint of distance in your tone. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You sighed, hating how it felt to lie to Jay. “It’s silly but…I really will miss you when you go away. This time it’s different, you know?” 

Jay squeezed your thigh. “I know what you mean. I’ll be back before you know it, hm? I’ll bring you back some souvenirs, too.” 

You leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek, which made him briefly smile at you before returning his attention to the road. “Okay, Jay.”

“Hey,” Jay said. “I have an idea. Let’s go to a restaurant. Right now. Let me take you someplace.”

Looking down at your outfit - shorts and Sungyeon’s hoodie - you frowned. “I can’t go out like this.”

“Please. You look beautiful no matter what you wear,” he said, squeezing your thigh again. “We don’t have to go anywhere fancy, just a place with good food. Someplace we haven’t tried.”

That was how you ended up at a sweet, 50’s inspired diner. You and Jay sat on opposite sides of the booth and pored over the menu together. When the waiter came over, he jabbed his pen at you and Jay. “So, what can I get you and your…”

“Stepdaughter,” Jay said with a terse smile. When you two went out, it was almost inevitable that someone would ask about your relationship. You had developed an unofficial way of answering the question: when you wanted to return to a place, you would say that Jay was your stepdad. When you wanted to try a place out just once, he would call you his girlfriend. It always made your heart flutter when he addressed you as his girlfriend, even though it seemed far too juvenile a term for your relationship.

The waiter smiled and took your orders. As you ate, you couldn’t help the thoughts of Sunghoon from returning. Sunghoon slouching around in his rumpled, baggy clothes, so different from the suits and starched button-ups Jay liked to wear. So boyish and immature in contrast to Jay’s maturity and poise. So bold. 

Your food came, and you picked at it. You hated that you were even considering it, what life could be like if you were dating someone your own age, someone who wasn’t so hopelessly entangled in your past. Someone your mom hadn’t fucked.

Jay called your name softly. “Come sit next to me,” he said, scooting over and dragging his food over to the side. You pushed your plate over and trudged to his side of the table. Jay wrapped his arm around you and wiped a crumb from your cheek. 

“Are you sure it’s just the trip?” he asked quietly. 

You hesitated, then decided to tell a half-truth. “I wish we could be normal sometimes,” you admitted. 

Jay took in a sharp intake of breath, looking down at his lap. Then he gave you a small smile. “Me too,” he said quietly. “Sometimes I wish I was 15 years younger, or you were 15 years older. But what we have is something special, something really magical. I wouldn’t give that up for anything, would you?”

“No,” you said. “I wouldn’t.” Not even Sunghoon. 

Jay ran his thumb on your lips. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I really am. Being with an old man like me can’t be easy…”

“You’re not old at all,” you protested. “Not to me, not at all.”

Jay laughed quietly and leaned in to give you a gentle kiss. His mouth tasted like the milkshake he had been drinking, and you ran your tongue along his lips to lap up all of the flavour. His fingers gently caressed your neck in a soothing motion as you continued to kiss. It felt so right, so sweet.

Someone cleared their throat. “Excuse me,” the waiter said timidly. “Just wanted to know if you guys were doing all right over here?” HIs eyes were confused, darting between you and Jay rapidly.

Jay pulled away from you and nodded. “Yeah, great, thanks.” The waiter sped away, nearly tripping over his shoes. Jay frowned. “What’s up with him?”

“You told him you were my stepdad this time,” you said.

Jay smacked his forehead. “Damn, that’s right. Shame. The food here is really good.”

In spite of yourself, you laughed.

–

On Monday morning, you watched as Jay drove away. You had given him the best send-off you could think of: marathon sex from Saturday night to Sunday night, and a final, romantic round on the kitchen counter before he left. You sighed and headed indoors to get changed for work. 

Just as you were putting your pants on, you heard a knock on the door. You zipped up your pants and buttoned up your shirt as you walked to the door. You glanced at the monitor, and you saw Sunghoon shuffling outside the door, holding something. 

You opened the door and Sunghoon waved. “I have your hoodie,” Sunghoon said. “Sungyeon’s busy tonight, but she wanted to get it to you as soon as possible.”

“Did she,” you said, accepting the hoodie, “or did you want an excuse to come here?”

Sunghoon laughed. “You caught me. Can you blame me?”

“Very easily,” you said. “I have to go to work in ten minutes, so you’d better make this quick.”

“That’s enough time,” Sunghoon said. “Just wanted to talk. Can I come in?”

You shrugged and gestured for him to come inside. Sunghoon sniffed the air as he moved further inside your house. He had been over a few times just to drop Sungyeon off or steal a snack before heading back to his place. Sungyeon liked coming over because she thought your stepdad was hot. It was so hard to pretend like you didn’t agree with her. “Did you…”

“Did…I what?” 

Sunghoon lingered by your kitchen’s counter. “It smells like sex in here. Most people aren’t linking at 8 in the morning. So…you have a man?”

“Something like that,” you mumbled, embarrassed at having been caught. You had never really noticed the smell, but now that you were aware of it your face burnt. “He…slept over.”

“Nothing serious?” Sunghoon unzipped his hoodie slightly, feigning being overheated. 

“We’re not…exclusive,” you said slowly. “But we’ve never talked about finding other people, if that makes any sense? It’s weird. I don’t know.”

“A situationship,” Sunghoon said, snapping his fingers. 

“I guess.”

“Anyone I know?”

You winced. “Don’t know.”

“How cryptic. Anyways, I’m not looking for anything serious,” Sunghoon said. “Don’t get me wrong. Just...well, I’ll be blunt. You’re hot.” 

You had been by the kitchen table, packing your purse up as you talked, but now your hand froze. Sunghoon continued talking. “I came to you last night,” he said, voice growing lower. “You wanna know what I thought about?”

You glanced at your phone’s screen to check the time. “What, Sunghoon?”

“I thought about how good your tits would look covered in my cum,” he said, “or how’d they look soapy from the shower. I imagined fucking you in the shower, pressing your tits against the glass while I fuck you from behind.”

Your eyes widened. The words were going straight to your pussy, and you hated your body for betraying you. “Sunghoon…”

“It’s so hard acting like I don’t want you,” Sunghoon continued. “Sungyeon doesn’t want me fucking one of her friends, so I’ve had to just pretend like you aren’t one of the sexiest women I’ve seen. I’m so sick of it. I know you want me too.”

“Sunghoon, I have to go.”

Sunghoon sighed and started to walk off. “Fine,” he mumbled.

“But,”  you said carefully. He turned around, a hopeful look on his face. You counted the days in your head. You were busy at work today, Tuesday, and Wednesday, but… “Come over on Thursday at eleven.” Jay would be coming home on Friday, so there was no way he would catch you two.

Sunghoon grinned, revealing his darling little fangs. “Seriously?”

“‘Seriously’,” you mocked. “‘Oh, boy, I’m getting pussy!’”

“I’m not even listening to you,” Sunghoon said. “I’m already thinking about all the things I’m going to do to you. If you don’t mind being late for work, I could show you.”

“Tempting offer, but I really do have to go,” you said. 

“So hardworking,” Sunghoon said sarcastically. “All right, I’ll see you on Thursday.”

That night, you were pent up, so you decided to play with yourself. When Jay wasn’t around, normally you would focus your thoughts on him, on some fantasy, something you wanted to try with him. But your thoughts kept shifting towards Sunghoon, his slight build, his charming smile, his frustrating indifference, how his hands would feel all over your body. You thought about what he said, about him pressing you against the shower, cold glass pressing against your tits.

When you came, you whimpered his name. 

–

You ended up heading to Sungyeon’s on Wednesday after all. Your extra shift had gotten picked up at the last minute, so you decided to spend the evening with her. Generally, when Jay went on trips, you would stay by her. You hated to be alone in your big, empty house. 

Sunghoon was nowhere to be seen, thankfully. The things you had said to him yesterday didn’t feel real or concrete. Just a fantasy the two of you had came up with, talking out loud. You snuggled closer to Sungyeon as you two sat on the couch, watching a Spiderman movie. Sungyeon had pulled a large blanket over the two of you. 

“What are you guys watching?” Sunghoon asked. You looked up and squinted at him. He was wearing plain clothes as usual, his hair tousled. 

“Look at the screen, dumbass,” Sungyeon snapped. 

“That’s just Jake Gyllenhaal,” he sniffed. Sunghoon sat down beside you casually. You glanced at Sungyeon, but she was staring at the screen, eating her second, newly improved batch of Rice Krispie treats. You tried to focus on the screen, but Sunghoon’s body was radiating so much heat. 

“You’re hogging the blanket,” Sunghoon whispered to you. “I’m freezing.” 

“Don’t try anything,” you said in a low, conspiratorial voice. “I already promised you that we’d hang on Thursday.”

“I’m innocent,” Sunghoon said. “Now blanket.”

You reluctantly covered him with the blanket, and after that he was still. Until, of course, he rested his hand on your thigh. Just that touch alone felt delicious. Too delicious. You wondered if Jay was doing something similar on his trip, letting other women touch him. The thought made your stomach churn.

As if by magic, your phone started to vibrate. 

“Who’s that?” Sungyeon asked.

“My stepdad,” you said. Jay liked to call you to check up on you. You answered the call there, ignoring the burning sensation of Sunghoon’s hand slowly rubbing your thigh, moving higher and higher. “Hello?”

“Hi, sweetheart,” he said, his voice sleepy and husky. Sexy. “How are you?”

“Good,” you said. “How are you?”

“I could be better. I’m missing you,” Jay said. “What are you wearing right now?”

Your face burned, and you prayed that Sunghoon or Sungyeon didn’t hear it. “I’m at Sungyeon’s,” you said neutrally. “We’re watching Spiderman.”

“I don’t care,” he said. “Go to the bathroom or someplace private.” 

You swallowed and stood up. “I have to take this,” you said to Sungyeon. “It’s important.”

Sungyeon nodded and popped another bite of Rice Krispies into her mouth. You didn’t get a look at Sunghoon before you hurried away to the guest bathroom upstairs. Locking the door, you learned against the door. “Oh, my God. You can’t just do that. They almost heard.”

“I’m sorry,” he said in that same low tone. It made your stomach roil in pleasure. “Just had to hear your voice. Now tell me what you’re wearing.”

“Just a hoodie and shorts,” you said. 

“And underneath your hoodie?”

“My tank top and…my bra.”

“Which bra? One I got you?”

“Yeah, the pink set you got me for my last birthday,” you said, reminiscing on that particular memory. He had practically fainted the first time he had seen you in it. “I’m wearing the matching panties too.”

Jay’s breath hitched, and you heard a squelching sound. “Fuck. Would you mind sending me a picture? Please?” 

He had never asked you for nudes before, so he really must have been hard up. “Of course,” you said, resting the phone down momentarily as you flicked the light on. “I’m taking my hoodie off right now,” you whispered into the phone. “Now, I’m taking my shorts off…my tank top…you really wanna see?”

“Yes, please,” Jay said pleadingly. 

Once you had fully stripped down, you flashed a quick picture of yourself on your knees, phone held high. He always liked you when you were in your most natural state, so you figured he would want a casual picture. You sent it to him, anticipating his reaction as you put the phone to your ear again.

“Jesus fuck,” was his quiet response. “So perfect. No one else gets to see you like that, right?”

“Of course not,” you said quickly. “Just you, always just you.”

“Wish I could tear that off of you right now,” Jay said. “I’d rip that thong off with my teeth, eat your needy little pussy for an hour straight.”

“I wish you would,” you said, longing creeping into your voice. “I wish you were here. I haven’t touched myself once since you left.”

“You haven’t?”

Of course you had. “No,” you whispered. “My fingers aren’t as good as yours are…or your dick.”

“Good fucking girl,” Jay said, his voice beginning to crack. “Good. I’ll make you cum over and over again when I get back. I’ll make you cum on my tongue, on my fingers, on my cock, until you can’t think. You’d like that, right?”

“I would,” you said. Your head was starting to grow cloudy, and you dipped your fingers into your panties to deal with the growing need there. Your clit was hot and you were already dripping with arousal. 

“Are you touching yourself right now?”

“I am.”

“So, so good,” Jay said. “Can’t wait to reward you when I get home, give you everything a good girl deserves. Gonna fuck you in every room in the house, until you’re begging for me to stop.”

“I’d never want you to stop,” you said, circling your fingers on your clit and fighting back your moans. You could be loud, and the Park siblings were both downstairs. 

“Of course you wouldn’t,” he said, and it sounded like he was straining just as much as you were. “Your body will be exhausted but you love my cock so much that you’d just let me keep fucking you. I won’t be able to stop myself. Just a few days without your needy little pussy and I’m already experiencing withdrawal. I won’t even make it past the door, I’ll push you down into the hallway and fuck you on the floor.”

You bit down on your lip hard, speeding up your movements. You were going to cum in record time, but you didn’t care. 

Jay kept going. “Going to mount you’re a bitch, fuck you from behind. It’s been so long since we did doggy, I can’t stop thinking about it. I love seeing your pretty face, but I love watching the way your ass jiggles when I grab your hips and just pound away.” 

“Close already,” you said quietly. 

“Me too.”

“Want you to fuck me like a bitch,” you said. “Want you to use me, Jay. Want you to treat me like your plaything.”

“Fuck,” Jay said. “Fuck, I’m going to. Just wait for me…  Ah, fuck, cum now, sweetheart. Fucking cum!” 

Your orgasm hit you so deeply that you had to clench your eyes shut and grit your teeth together. Your phone tumbled out of your grasp, and you could hear Jay grunting and panting your name. You hastily picked it up, checking for cracks. 

“Did you drop your phone?”

“Yeah,” you said with a slight giggle. “God, that was good.”

Jay sighed. “Sorry to bother you,” he said contritely. The shift in tone made you giggle again. 

“That’s all right,” you said. “I missed your voice.”

“I called you yesterday, silly.”

“Miss you all the time.”

Jay laughed as well, the sound filling you with warmth. “I missed you too.” 

You didn’t say I love you to each other, never did, so instead you said, “Take care.”

“You too. Enjoy your movies.”

You hung up on him and stared down at yourself. Panties dressed with your own juices, clothes off, body coated in your own sweat. You were in shambles. You bustled about the bathroom, cleaning up quietly. Once you looked presentable, you opened the door. 

Sunghoon nearly tumbled into the bathroom, but he righted himself quickly. “Stepdad my ass,” he barked. “‘I-I-I’m cumming! Uwah!’”

“Keep your voice down! And I don’t sound like that,” you snapped. “Why were you listening in on me?”

“You left in such a rush, I came up here to make sure that you were okay,” Sunghoon replied. “I guess you were really okay. Your legs are shaking and everything.”

You looked down at your legs, which were indeed quivering. “It’s none of your business,” you said.

“It is,” Sunghoon said, blocking your path. “You said it wasn’t serious, but here you are having phone sex with him.”

“It’s not serious.”

Sunghoon laughed sarcastically. “So unserious that you say that you miss him when he’s gone, right?” 

“Oh, so you don’t tell your boys that you miss them?”

Sunghoon looked offended. “No.”

“Then you are an unfeeling man. Now move. I’m missing the movie.”

“I’ll spoil it for you. Spiderman fucking dies.”

“No, he doesn’t.” You sighed and pocketed your phone.  “Look, we’re still on for Thursday, right?”

Sunghoon screwed his lips up to the side. “Yeah, we are.”

“So don’t worry about who else I’m fucking,” you said. “And I won’t worry about who you’re fucking. Okay?”

“Fine,” he said, moving aside, “but you’re a real shameless little slut, you know that?”

“Oh, don’t call me that,” you said, heading downstairs. “It’ll turn me on.”

“That’s why I called you that,” Sunghoon said, smacking your ass as you walked. 

Thankfully, Sunghoon left you and Sungyeon alone, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were doing something horribly wrong.

–

Thursday evening rolled around, and you were at your wit’s end. You didn’t know what other guys liked, not really. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t had experience with other guys, but the bulk of your early adult life had been with Jay. Someone you had lived with, who had seen you at your rock bottom, who didn’t care if you wore pearls and diamonds or greasy sweatpants. You had no clue how to impress someone.

You went to the bathroom and followed a makeup guide on Youtube, pursing your lips. It was a pretty cute look. When Jay got back, you’d do it again when you went on a date and he could introduce you two as your girlfriend.

Dolled up in your best lingerie set - a silky robe over a lacy, barely-there bra with a matching pair of delicate panties and thigh highs - you lounged on your bed. You rarely ever used it for sleeping or even sex, because Jay’s room was bigger, so there was a certain novelty in lying around in it at night. 

The doorbell rang. You glanced at the clock on your phone: only 10:45? Sunghoon was early. He must have wanted you worse than you thought. The thought made you smile.

You pranced down the stairs, flicked the foyer light on, and opened the door. Instead of Sunghoon’s lithe frame, Jay stood in front of you, holding a bouquet of gorgeous red roses. His eyes bugged out of his head as he took you in. “Sweetheart,” he said slowly, “you look phenomenal. Hah, did you know I was coming home early? I wanted to surprise you.”

You took the bouquet of roses from him, desperately trying to fight the growing anxiety within you. You had never gotten Sunghoon’s number, so there was no way to contact him. You could ask Sungyeon, but it was so late that she’d question why you wanted it. “I didn’t know,” you murmured. “I was trying out the look I was going to do tomorrow.” 

“I took a red eye here,” Jay said. You placed the bouquet on a nearby coffee table. Jay’s eyes lingered on your chest on their slow journey up and down your body. “God, you’re a work of art.” Jay took his suit jacket off and tossed it to the side. 

“You know, Jay,” you began slowly. “I’m actually feeling a bit, uh, tired.” 

“Really?” Jay loosened his tie. “You don’t look tired to me.”

“Well, I am, and…” 

His lips pressed onto yours and you felt your defenses crumbling. Damn him. “When I said I’d fuck you in the doorway,” Jay said, “I meant it.” With that, Jay used his body weight to force you onto the floor as nicely as he could. Even through his dress pants, you could feel his hard length, and despite your growing horror, it made you feel wet. Maybe, Sunghoon would get cold feet. Maybe he was lying about wanting to fuck you. You comforted yourself with this thought.

Soon, Jay was bucking his hips into your warm, desperate pussy. Your panties had been pushed to the side, your bra was askew, and your thigh highs had been ripped. Your arms held yourself upright as he took you from behind, just the way he said. Worst of all, Jay had left the door swinging open. You were facing outside, and the foyer light was still on. Anyone could see you as he fucked you.

“Missed you,” he groaned. “Missed this pussy. I can tell it missed me, too.” His hands were wrapped loosely around your neck, applying comfortable pressure. 

You couldn’t even tell him that you missed him in good faith. You let out a pathetic little moan, your eyes trained on the darkness. To your terror, you saw a dark figure shifting, a phone light illuminating its way. It was coming towards your house. 

You didn’t know if Jay saw him, because he didn’t stop. His dick reached inside of you so nicely, but the fear clogged your throat. 

The figure stepped into the light, revealing Sunghoon. His mouth was agape, and he stared at you, then at Jay, then back at you, then at your tits. It was humiliating beyond words. 

“What the fuck?” Sunghoon asked. “The guy who’s been cucking me is Mr. Park? Your fucking stepdad?”

Jay, mysteriously, didn’t stop fucking you. He merely slowed down, and his grip on your throat moved to your midsection. “And you’re the skinny punk who has a crush on her, right?”

“She has a crush on me,” Sunghoon retorted. “She invited me here to fuck.”

Jay finally stopped, pulling out of you. You groaned, unable to face him. “Is that true?”

You nodded. “Yeah,” you said weakly. “Sorry, Jay. I’m really sorry.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Jay said. “Are you going to tell anyone?”

“Me?” Sunghoon pointed at himself in this overly ostentatious way that pissed you off. “Am I going to tell anyone that you’re fucking your dead wife’s daughter? Maybe. Why shouldn’t I?”

Jay swallowed audibly. “I’ll let you get what you wanted.”

“Jay!” At your outburst, Jay lightly pinched your side.

“You wanted it,” he said, his voice an irate growl. “You wanted to be a slut and fuck another man, so now you’re getting exactly what you wanted.”

Sunghoon still looked aghast, but from your angle you could see a bulge forming under his sweatpants. “You’ll really let me have her?”

“I will,” Jay said. “You just can’t cum inside her.”

Sunghoon’s Adam’s apple bobbed in anticipation. “Can I use her mouth?” 

“Sure you can,” Jay said. “I don’t use it often, so maybe she’ll be a little rusty.”

You hated that they were talking about you like you weren’t around, but you’d be lying if you said that it wasn’t a little thrilling. You watched as Sunghoon shut the door behind him and tugged his sweatpants down. 

“How long have you two been fucking?” he asked, lowering his boxers. He wasn’t as girthy as Jay, but he seemed like he was the same length, if not a little longer. 

“Don’t ask questions,” Jay said, and you could feel his cockhead bullying its way into your pussy. 

“Fine,” Sunghoom mumbled. Your arms were still braced for doggy, so all Sunghoon had to do was thrust his cock into your mouth, guiding it in with his hand. He groaned as soon as the wetness of your mouth wrapped around his dick. 

“She’s good, right?” Jay was now returning to his original pace, slamming into you steadily. He felt so good, intruding inside of your walls. “She’s always…known how to use that big mouth of hers…”

“I see why you started fucking her,” Sunghoon said, fucking your mouth slowly. He could hardly talk, his voice airy already. “She feels good.” It had been so long since you had had a cock in your mouth, and you liked the feeling of having both of your holes filled. You briefly pulled away from his cock to spit on the tile. After wrapping your lips around your teeth, Sunghoon pushed his cock back into your mouth impatiently. 

“She’s an angel to me,” Jay said with a wry chuckle, and it made you happy that he wasn’t so mad at you that he couldn’t say anything nice. A hand groped at your breasts, Sunghoon’s pale hands fondling your body. 

“I’m jealous,” Sunghoon said. “Wanted to fuck her for years.”

“You can be a little rougher with her,” Jay said, and as he spoke you could feel his pace increasing. He put his hands around your waist and started dragging you on his cock harshly. “Like this.”

Sunghoon took Jay’s advice and grasped both of your cheeks, taking control of your head. He shunted into your mouth like it was a pussy, and what was a mildly uncomfortable experience became his cock choking you. Your mouth filled with spit, and it ran down your neck. You gagged against Sunghoon, not only because of the face-fucking but because of the cock fucking you from the other side. 

“Can I fuck her…once you’re done with her?” Sunghoon asked, breathing clearly laboured. 

“Sure, buddy,” Jay said. Buddy? 

Sunghoon grunted and ravaged your mouth with his cock, the taste overpowering your senses. Your pussy was being worn out by Jay’s dick, and the stimulation was driving you insane. 

“Gonna cum inside you,” Jay said. “You aren’t even close to cumming, are you?”

Instead of answering, you moaned against Sunghoon’s cock again. Your arms were growing weak from holding yourself up while the two men used you. 

Jay’s cock throbbed inside of you, signaling his imminent release. With a final grunt, he came inside of you, filling your pussy with his cum. “Fuck,” Jay said, and you could hear him rising to his feet. “That was good. Your turn, Seungmin.”

“Sunghoon.”

“Right.”

Sunghoon finally let go of your head and pulled his cock out of your mouth. You gasped for air, and saliva dripped onto the floor. Your arms shook from the exertion. 

“Hold her arms,” Jay said, pointing at you. “She’s not gonna be able to hold herself up.”

“What, you think I’ve never fucked before?” Sunghoon snapped, taking the opportunity to run his hands over your body. Unlike Jay’s touch, which always brought a sense of familiarity, Sunghoon was explorative, greedy. 

“I don’t know what you’ve done,” Jay said, “but you’re just a little boy to me. I want to make sure you’re fucking my girl right.” 

“What, are you going to coach me?” Sunghoon held your wrists behind you in one large hand, his other hand working his cock a few times. 

“I’m starting to think I’ll have to,” Jay replied.

“Don’t you dare,” Sunghoon said. His cock probed the inside of your walls, and you gasped. It was all just skin and nerve endings, but you could feel the difference immediately. Sunghoon pulled you back so that you were flush against his chest, using his hips to fuck into you cautiously. 

“Turn her around,” Jay said. “I want to see her.”

“Cuck,” Sunghoon muttered, but he obliged, shifting you so that Jay saw you. Jay was leaning against the wall adjacent to the door. He had tugged his boxers back on and his hair was completely matted with sweat. His eyes were cold, colder than you had ever seen them, and your lips trembled.

“You can enjoy it,” Jay said quietly. “I’ve always known you were a bit of a whore.”

“I’m not,” you protested. “I’m not a whore…” Sunghoon plunged his cock into you, brushing against your G-spot, and you let out a cry.

Jay’s gaze remained cold, almost analytical. “If she moans like a whore, fucks like a whore…”

The worst part was you were enjoying it. You liked the way that Sunghoon fucked you. He fucked like a rabbit, energetic and youthful. He grunted and groaned like he was merely trying to chase his own pleasure. Up until today, Jay had always tried to ensure that you enjoyed sex, but they were both treating you like a sexy toy.

You matched Sunghoon’s movements, grinding down onto him when he thrusted into you. They had called you a whore, and you weren’t going to turn down that label. You moaned over and over again.

“Is she always so loud?” Sunghoon asked. 

“Normally, she is,” Jay said, and a ghost of affection appeared on his face again.

Sunghoon bucked his hips into you a few more times, but you could feel his cock twitching already. “Shit, where can I cum?”

“You’re cumming already?” Jay asked with a slight chuckle. 

Sunghoon didn’t respond, instead yanking his cock out of you with another groan. He pushed you so that you were on your knees once more, stood up, and rained his cum onto your lower back. Then he let go of you and crouched back into the floor, breathing in slowly. Once he caught his breath, he looked at Jay. “Your stepdaughter blueballed me for days,” Sunghoon hissed. “I’m surprised I didn’t cum in her immediately.

You were so overwhelmed that you couldn’t be assed to listen to Sunghoon complain anymore. Instead, you slumped onto the floor completely, cheek resting on the tile once more. 

“Poor thing is all tired out,” you heard Jay say sympathetically. After that, you entered a haze of half-wakeness and half-slumber. You didn’t know how much time had passed when you felt someone’s cockhead touching your pussy.

What fascinated you was that you didn’t know whose it was.

[tavyliasin]

BG3 2025 Creative Challenge!

Baldur's Gate 3 Fandom Artists, Writers, and Creatives!

I would like to invite you to a year of prompts to create whatever you would like! SFW, NSFW, whatever medium you would like to create in, the choice is yours! The idea is that we have on prompt per month so it should be easier to follow along without becoming overloaded. You don't have to create something specifically for the event either - if you have a WIP or other work you're publishing that month that fits the description you are more than welcome to add that in! I'll make a new post at the start of each month with the details of that month's challenge prompt, but this will be our masterpost to start the year off with a bang. Details below the cut!

The Year Of Prompts

January - New Year New You Pick a new character, trope, or pairing. Something you haven’t tried before. Make it a challenge to do something new and different! February - Romance Novels Go for something romantic, or if romance isn’t your cup of tea try something around the Necromancy of Thay instead! March - Marching Forwards March to your goal to finish a WIP or LongFic, or March into a new world by making something in an AU! April - Fools Rush In Make something humorous, something fun, whether it’s based on a meme or a joke pairing or just something with a bit more whimsy and some laughs~ May - Maybe? What If? Reverse a trope or reimagine a part of the canon - what if things were different? 

June - June Bugs Create something centred around a game glitch or exploit, past or present! July - Why Would July To Me? A piece around lies, deceptions, and other ways the truth can be twisted or obscured. August - When In Rome… A piece themed around the customs of specific races, backgrounds, regions, or Guilds. Are they followed or broken? That’s up to you! September - Seven Deadly Sins Pick one, or more, of the classic “seven deadly sins” and see how that can relate to one or more characters or tropes. October - Days of the Dead Create something around a character death, a memorial, a lingering ghost, or find a way a character might cheat their death or be brought back from it~ 

November - Gnomevember Either create something centred on Gnome characters from the game, or the other story points around them (Steel Watch, Iron Throne, Runepowder, etc) December - Season of Giving Create a surprise gift for someone in fandom, or write a piece around a gift being given by or to a character or characters!

Rules

The rules are very simple!

Create your piece in 2025, preferably within the prompt month but if you post a little early or late that's fine too!

All pieces must be your creations or a collaboration - No AI or chatbot content

You are free to work in whatever medium you like for each and every prompt!

Set your own goal - you can do a short 100-500 word minific, some simple sketches, or write a whole 10k word one shot epic, or draw a full page comic. What matters is that it's a goal YOU want to achieve!

There will be options to submit prompts and fill prompts in the AO3 collections - this is entirely your choice! You can take a prompt if you like, work on something you had already started, or create something entirely new!

Have fun!

The Goal

The aim really is simple - to set some targets, and work on at least 12 things this year so at this time next year you can look back on your progress and celebrate your achievements. If you miss a month or turn in late, that's fine! Do what works for you!

AO3 Collections

For those of you that would like to, there will be a parent collection for the year event as a whole and some sub-collections for each month to allow us to keep everything nice and organised. It's completely optional if you would like to put your work on AO3 or not - you're more than welcome to just keep it on Tumblr or wherever you usually share your works!

This event is for you to use however you feel best, to inspire creativity, working towards manageable goals, and trying something different.

Social Media Tags

Use the tag #BG32025 if you would like to! I don't know if anyone else is using this one but I'll cross my fingers that we're the only ones~ Feel free to share the event and please do support each other through our creativity! A character or pairing or kink or trope might not be your cup of tea, but let's celebrate how it is there for someone else who might really enjoy it, and keep a positive and passionate view whilst respecting boundaries by tagging works appropriately as always <3

Thank you for reading this far and I hope to see you all through they year adding your works and creativity to our fandom <3 we have so much amazing talent here, I'm delighted to have the privilege of seeing it all~

[zepskies]

Against the Wind - Part 2

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Thank you guys so much for all the amazing feedback on Part 1! Now, most of your theories and questions will be answered...

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, and peril, the other kind of "hunting."

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 2: Seems Like Yesterday

“I’ll raise you 25,” you say, tossing five chocolate covered pretzels into the middle pile. It’s a risky bet, considering how much you lost in the last hand. Dean regards you with an amused, if critical eye while he holds his cards.

“Ooh, you’re bluffing,” he says. You pop your brows at him, a subtle smile tugging at your lips.

“You want to test that theory? Put your money where your mouth is,” you challenge.

He tilts his head at you with a raise of his own brows.

“Cheeky omega,” he mutters. His attention returns to his cards as he deliberates on his next move.

You attempt to be nonchalant as you glance down at your cards again. It’s a shitty hand, but he doesn’t need to know that. The alpha’s won the last two hands of Texas Hold ‘Em, but you did win the first one. Though you suspect he let you win.

You want to at least even the score before he resumes his work out in the shed. He spends most of his time there during the day, or making sure the firewood is stocked. It seems like he takes any excuse not to spend too much time in your presence.

More than anything, you want to ask him if he feels what you feel—the same tug in the pit of your stomach every time he’s nearby. You just haven’t found a way to broach that with him.

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too?

You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

So you have to be content with mornings like this and in the evenings, where he lets you put on one of his records, and you two share dinner together, maybe another round of cards. Or you’ll read a book while lounging on the chaise, and he lays out on the couch, listening to his music with his eyes closed. You like watching him like that, with a relaxed, damn near peaceful set to his face.

Too often he holds that harder, stoic expression, or that divot between his brows that makes you want to soothe two of your fingers there; or better yet, lean in and press your lips—

“It’s your move,” Dean reminds you. He’s finally played his hand, but you were too distracted to hear what he said.

“What’d you do?” you ask, surveying the piles of cards.

“Call,” he repeats, popping a few pretzels into his mouth. He washes it down with beer and more barbeque chips. Those are worth $10 in this little fantasy betting. He points a finger towards you with the same hand that holds his beer, teasing, “You got all the lights on in there? Or am I boring you?”

You glance up at him, fighting a smile. “All right, keep your pants on. Let me see…”

As the dealer, he’s already turned over the River: the last card in the hand. It’s a 10 of Clubs, which means your One Pair is actually a Two Pair. It’s still not a great hand, but it’s decent enough to maybe let you get the best of your opponent.

After you go “all in,” Dean’s lips twitch at a smile, and he humors you, going all in as well. You’re on tenterhooks when he finally reveals his hand.

“Ooh, it ain’t a cheesy ‘90s sitcom, but it’s still…a Full House,” he brags as he lays out each card in a smooth line of overlapping cards, the mix of glossy red diamonds and black spades showing the truth. He won again.

You huff in defeat, your shoulders sinking in your seat at the kitchen table. You turn over your measly hand. Sweeping the winnings toward himself (a mound of chocolate covered pretzels, a stack of barbecue chips, and a handful of Oreos), Dean chuckles and tosses you a wink.

“Ah, don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve been hustlin’ poker for a long time. Hell, I’ve been playing this game before I even knew my times tables,” he says as he collects the cards.

“That young?” you reply. “Who taught you?”

“My dad,” he says. “Oh, believe me, I used to get my ass kicked many a’ time, but by the time I turned sixteen, I was hustlin’ grown ass men in skeevy bars out of their daily paycheck.”

“You were hanging out in bars at sixteen?” you ask incredulously. There, Dean seems to realize he’s said too much. He becomes more guarded as he puts away the deck and cleans the crumbs off the table.

“My dad was always working. You could say I didn’t really have a curfew,” he says.

“A latchkey kid, huh?” you reply, hiding the way you’re trying so hard to glean any more hints of truth between his words.

“Heh, yeah.” He gets up from the table and tosses the breakfast dishes in the sink, then travels to the front door to don his jacket and boots.

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says.

Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

You’ve learned another small tidbit about him, one that feels more important than it seems on the surface. And yet, it only elicits more questions you doubt he’ll be willing to answer so easily. He’s more than tight-lipped about his past, only giving vague outlines and general pictures.

Even his stories—like being raised up in a family of traveling mechanics, putting Nair in Sam’s shampoo when he was a kid, or the guy’s serious fear of clowns—feel like they’re missing some key details.

You decide to take up your crutches and head for your room. There you unearth the journal from its hiding place under your pillow. This time, you turn to the very beginning. Before all the jargon about mythology (and an odd footnote about a “Turducken Slammer”), there are actual journal entries. The first one dates back to November 6, 1983. The first line already captures your attention.

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed… When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

He writes about their house burning with all their memories inside, along with Mary. Somehow, he saw her pinned bloody to the ceiling.

Along with these pages is a clipping from a news story:

House Fire Kills Mother of Two

Lawrence, Kansas.

You’re spellbound by it all. You keep reading.

November 13, 1983

…Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe—the safe with Mary’s old diaries, the boys’ savings bonds, what little jewelry we had…all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?

The police don’t believe his story, about how she died before the fire, about what he saw. So he tries to convince himself that what he saw wasn’t real. Still, he can’t find rest, and he worries about his sons’ safety.

December 4, 1983

I haven’t let them out of my sight since the fire. Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side—or from his brother.

Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he’s trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night.

Sammy cries a lot, wanting his mom. I don’t know how to stop it, and part of me doesn’t want to. It breaks my heart to think that soon he won’t remember her at all.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the page. You quickly wipe it away before it becomes a stain, and you dry it all the way with your breath before you move on to the next page, sniffling. Your heart hurts, even as your guilt grows. You know now that you’re really, truly invading Dean’s privacy by reading his father’s words. You just can’t stop yourself from turning the next page.

John becomes convinced that someone, or something, started the fire that destroyed his life and took his wife away from him and his sons. He leaves his job and the remnants of that world behind, to venture deeper into the darker one. But in that darkness, he finds truth.

He visits a psychic, Missouri, who leads him back to his house and senses the echoes of an evil presence—something that shakes her to the core, and John too: the creature that killed his wife.

December 20

…She told me that it was the most powerful, awful thing she’s ever come across.

On January 1, 1984, John makes a New Year’s resolution. He determines to find the answers himself.

A shiver runs down your spine. In John’s words, your heart breaks for Dean, but you also see yourself. You try not to think about why.

You keep flipping through the rest of the journal past January. There are translations of a Latin exorcism, and like you read before, strange drawing of evil looking creatures—as well as what they are, scraps of their history, and how to kill them.

Silver bullet to the heart, can’t withstand iron, salt and burn.

You pause on a certain page, more filled with lore than the rest, and a primitive drawing in the center.

WENDIGO

Cree: Evil that devours.

Wood spirit. Eats live flesh. Lives in forests.

Perfect hunter.

Your breath stills in your lungs as a cold sweat forms across your skin. The more you read, the faster your heart beats.

The crunch of dead leaves. Your father shouting at you to run, and keep running.

The coarse shout of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short. You turn around with your rifle in hand, poised to shoot blindly.

Your stomach churns as bile rises into your throat. You feel sick, and wrong, and you suddenly have the urge to throw the journal against the wall.

“Omega?” calls Dean’s sharp voice. “You okay?”

You jolt badly at the sudden noise. You didn’t hear him reenter the house. He likely caught the scent of your distress. He pushes the door of your room open to find you, but he stops short in the doorway. His surprise quickly morphs into a frown when he notices what you’re holding in your lap.

You gasp, freezing where you sit, but there’s no point in trying to cover up what you’ve done. With an angry purse of his lips, he reaches over and takes the journal from your hands.

“What the hell are you doing with this?” he demands.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just—” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I was just curious. I wanted to know more about you. I thought it was…a normal journal.”

“So this is how you go about it, huh? Got everything you wanted, Columbo?” he says, his sarcasm cutting into you. He flips through the journal to make sure all the pages are intact before he tucks the journal under his arm. “Seriously, going into somebody’s stuff? Who the hell raised you?”

At that, you begin to bristle.

“My dad,” you snap back. Though remembering the passages you’ve lived with for the past few hours, you soften with a painful twinge of sympathy in your heart. 

“And it looks like yours raised you to be some kind of…well, what are you, a ghostbuster or something?” you ask.

His jaw locks. “Or something.” 

With an exasperated sigh at his hedging, you swing your legs around the edge of the bed and haul yourself up with your crutches so you can at least match his stance (more or less).

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—”

“Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating.

“The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.” 

Your mouth actually falls open in shock. His vehement words feel almost as powerful as a physical blow, if to your soul. They make your arms tremble while holding yourself upright on your crutches. Hot tears well up in your eyes, though you try to blink them away. After a moment, you’re able to collect yourself enough to speak.

“I’m sorry for going through your stuff,” you say, in a quiet voice.

You hobble awkwardly past him out of the room. You don’t stop until you reach the front door, where your snow boots are. You manage to get them on by yourself so you can go outside and get some fresh air, not to mention some much needed distance from the alpha’s burning presence. You can still feel him trailing behind you. You hear his heavy boots.

“Where the hell are you going?” he grits out.

You hobble faster.

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin. 

The snow depth has lightened somewhat since the storm, but it’s still not easy to navigate on your crutches. You get some distance from the cabin, mindful not to go too far. You know you’re limited, and you didn’t even take a gun with you.

Finding a solid tree to lean on, you rest there and try in vain to stifle your tears. You know you were wrong for snooping, and he had a right to be mad, but did he really have to be such a freakin’ bear? 

Fucking alphas. I swear.

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life. 

Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate?

You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Just then, you hear the crunch of snow nearby. Twigs snapping.

Your body stiffens with a terrible memory—of that day in the woods. Your breath comes out in short puffs on the cold air, your eyes wide as you listen closely.

Hearing nothing, you allow yourself to breathe a little easier. You venture a few paces forward and to the right, but you stop shy of how it slopes downward. Some unnamed feeling tells you to look over the edge.

You lean over and cast your gaze down the slope, but all you see is snow and trees down below. With a shaky breath, you lean back and look out to the north again. Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

Oh shit…

You remember Dean mentioning something about a bear passing by his cabin a couple of days before the storm. Looks like he’s back to make his rounds.

His fur is dark; from this distance, you can’t tell if it’s a black bear or a grizzly. It doesn’t make much difference when all you have on your person is a can of bear spray. His gait is massive, unhurried, but he lets out a braying sound when your gaze meets his, as if acknowledging you. He stops there for a moment, assessing. Your body locks up with fear.

The bear groans again, this time sharper. You finally snap out of your reverie and force your body to move slowly backward with your crutches spearing into the snow. The cabin isn’t that far, maybe thirty or forty yards at most. Still, the bear can probably beat you.

Instead of trying to run, you stand your ground and shout at the bear, hoping he’ll back off. Your voice dies in your throat when he rears up on his hind legs, with a loud roar. Trembling, you miss a step and get knocked back into the snow on your ass, your crunches falling out at your sides. You scramble inside your jacket for anything that might help you. 

Bear spray!

You hurry to get the cap off with shaking hands, but before you can even aim, the creature’s heave paws thudding into the ground in front of you—a gunshot rings out and hits the animal in the chest. 

The bear falters, then roars in pain and anger.

Two more shots finally bring it down to an even heavier thud, not far from your feet.

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester:

For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach.

Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

Instead, his lips purse as he wracks his rifle and slings the strap of it over his shoulder. He stalks toward you and scoops you up, crutches and all. He brings you back to the cabin without a word.

His jaw is once again locked with silence and strain; he doesn’t trust himself to speak until he’s brought you inside and carried you over to the chaise. He sits beside you there and takes an inventory of you with his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks at last.

You manage to meet his gaze and give a little nod.

“Okay. Don’t move,” he says shortly. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, where he grabs a foldable set of knives and a cooler from under the sink.

You watch him in silence, and you realize he’s going back to gut the bear. You didn’t know that he actually hunted out here…well, hunted to eat. He continues to gather items in silence. It gets to a point where you can’t stand it, or his curtness, any longer.

“Thank you,” you say, halting his steps. Dean glances at you over his shoulder, then continues strapping up his supplies. He huffs in response.

“We’re gonna be eatin’ good for a while,” he says without looking at you. 

His attitude both hurts you and aggravates you, so much that you refuse to take it anymore. 

“Look, Dean. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have butted into your life,” you say. Frustrated tears well up in your eyes. Expelling a sharp sigh, you amend yourself. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy. I’m sorry about what you went through, and I’m…I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry for today. I’ll just…stay out of your way, and I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

Dean finally turns your way, but your lips tremble as you turn your face away from him and shut your eyes tightly against the salty burn of tears. Deep inside, his heart withers in his chest. He sighs and drops his supplies on the couch. He walks over with those heavy boots, and he sits on the edge of the chaise beside you. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually, he rests a warm, calloused hand on your arm and earns your tearful gaze. 

“I’m sorry. I, uh…shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says. 

You sniff, quickly wiping away your embarrassing tears as they come. Your cheeks are hot with it.

“What is it you wanna know? About me,” he asks, surprising you that much more.

 Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out. It takes you some time to think, but the first thing that comes to your mind is…

“Everything in that journal,” you say, licking your dry lips. “Is it real?”

Dean holds your gaze steadily. You know the truth without him having to say it, but he does.

“I was a hunter,” he says. “Those things you read about, I found ‘em. Killed ‘em. It was my job.”

“And now?” you ask, once that large bit of information has time to set into your brain.

His lips tug at a half smile. “Consider me…mostly retired.”

You exhale softly, and you nod. It earns a furrowed look from Dean.

“You don’t seem all that freaked out by this,” he says, with a more scrutinizing gaze on you.

“Should I be?” you say, with an unsteady laugh.

He raises his brows. “In my experience, yeah.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you should even put into words what you’ve been holding onto for months. Like John, no one believed you. Even your own mother had started to look at you like you needed a shrink.

“Omega?” Dean presses. His green eyes are perceptive as they take in the conflicted look on your face. “There something you wanna tell me?”

You deliberate for a moment longer. Then, you release a sigh and glance down at your hands clenching in your lap.

“A few months ago, I lost my dad,” you begin.

Dean nods. “Yeah, you said—”

“I lost him in these woods,” you say.

That quiets the alpha.

You shake your head, and you find your words as the memories that have been haunting your nights return to you.

“Like I said, we used to go hiking here every year…”

AN: Just so you know, all of the journal entries appear in the official "John's Journal" SPN merch. 😉

Next Time:

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name louder, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 3

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[starseungs]

take a shot. ksm.

kim seungmin x fem!reader — it really shouldn't take a genius to figure out that you and your co-star didn't get along. you knew kim seungmin. you knew how life functioned despite the cameras. and you knew that it was harder to keep a good shot hidden than it was to delete a bad one.

genre/s — drama, angst, fluff, a sprinkle of comedy, actors au, enemies to lovers, slowburn • 19.4k words

warning/s — y/n gets referred to with she/her pronouns, profanity, implied death taken lightly (humor purposes), miscommunication to too much communication, y/n easily gets into a bad headspace, inaccurate depictions of filming a movie, the angst is strong = the fluff is strong, other idols are mentioned as characters along with skz members, mentions of alcohol in a scene

note — my longest fic yet !! it also took me so long to finish this (like three weeks i believe) and there were some struggles that happened in the making of this, but it turned out to be my most favorite work ive done ever. thank you for the people who patiently waited for this since the teaser, and remember that reblogs & feedbacks are greatly appreciated 🫶 i hope you enjoy the read !!

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

00 : ZERO.

“I’m sorry, what?”

The car remained silent despite your words of confusion. You felt as though your world had come to an extreme halt, giving you a whiplash as the buzz of the road outside continued to pierce through your ears. There was nothing else to keep your mind away from the absolute bomb of news that was just given to you; your manager had turned it down before uttering the horrid sentence that brought your untimely demise.

The car may have kept on with its task of moving forward—but you were stuck frozen in place.

“You’re joking.”

Your world fell on seemingly deaf ears. The man up front, steering the wheel, rendered himself mute to your growing distress, finding the busy traffic of city life interesting enough to keep his eyes glued. But the urban chaos didn’t distract you one bit from brewing a storm of gunpowder inside your throat.

And just like that, a ghost of a click was heard.

“No—please tell me you’re joking,” you voiced out, tone betraying your attempts at keeping things respectful. It soon came to your attention that the effort was of no use, as your manager still chose to keep his peace. “Changbin!”

The car swiveled a bit off-lane for a second before returning to its correct course. Normally, such an abrupt action by a vehicle would concern you, as you would argue that you were still much too young to suffer at the hands of a road accident, but no such thoughts even made their way into your brain. Just like how time had stopped for you, there was no time for debating over survival either. One life-or-death situation was already enough for you.

You wanted answers, and you were going to get them.

Changbin exhaled audibly from the scare he just put both of you through. His hands shook with a slight tremor, and that was all it took for him to decide that pulling over to the nearest parking area was for the best.

“Don’t yell in the car like that!” You scoffed at his scolding, finding the whole situation ironic.

“Oh, so you can do it all the time, but I can’t?” You shot back. Changbin sighed tiredly, finally registering the extent of your agitation. "Plus, I have a perfectly good reason why I’m yelling!”

“Listen, Y/N, it’s really not that bad—”

“Yes, it is that bad!” The words spill out of your mouth in utter disbelief at his attempts at assurance. “I’m working with Kim Seungmin, of all people!”

“And that’s why it’d be fine!” Changbin argued, running a hand through his already tousled hair. You blinked at his reply, baffled by the sheer implication.

“—How?”

Changbin clicked his tongue at the question, finding it hard to digest just why you were so against working with the mentioned actor. With the mere sound of that actor’s name spat out of your mouth, one would think that he had somehow managed to offend your entire bloodline. But that kind of bitterness could only be achieved through a sour history, so you really couldn’t empathize with your manager’s mindset either.

Even you knew that this movie would be enormously successful from the director alone. Director Han Jisung’s influence and presence in the industry were not a laughing matter—in fact, you should already be trembling in anxiety just knowing that you snagged probably the biggest role you’d ever get in your whole career. He was only around the same age as you, but the winding list of his achievements was already one for the records. And yet, here you were rethinking your contract with him even before the project started.

Just because of who you were going to be acting alongside with.

“Seungmin is a nice person,” Changbin explained gently like he was coaxing a child, intentionally ignoring the way your face scrunched up at what he said. “I did my research, ok? Everyone only has high praises for him, both on and off-set. Isn’t that enough to be trusted?”

You bit your tongue to stop yourself from digging a deeper hole to lie in. The answer was no—it wasn’t enough to be trusted. Now, at this point, someone would’ve had half a mind to ask why you were so sure about your vendetta against the man. If a person was so well loved in a world where cameras were pointed at them in every waking minute, then shouldn’t all the dirt be found by now, if there was any?

To that, your answer would be yet another no.

Because you knew Kim Seungmin. You knew how life functioned despite the cameras. And you knew that it was harder to keep a good shot hidden than it was to delete a bad one.

“Turn the car around.”

Changbin’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets at your demand. Surely, he had heard you now. You crossed your arms and leaned back to rest comfortably on the car seat, turning your head to face the window and glare at the world outside, continuing on with their lives like a well-followed routine.

“Y/N, this is a big opportunity—”

“I said, turn the car around. I’m not attending this cursed table reading.” You pinched the bridge of your nose to keep the incoming migraine at bay.

“You really think I’ll willingly step into a room with the devil’s incarnate? I’d rather get shot—”

01 : ONE.

“—sensing a great shot!”

Director Han Jisung nodded positively at your performance, satisfied with your initial portrayal of the female lead.

“If we keep going like this, then I’m expecting this project to be a big hit. The casting team really did their pay’s worth on this one,” the young director hummed. “Especially you, Actor Kim Seungmin. I don’t know how they managed to get through your company's walls, but I’m glad they did. You’re perfect for the role!”

You felt your eye twitch as the figure bearing the name appeared within your vision. His mouth curled up into an arrogant smirk, hastily covered up by a bashful smile. You cringed at his actions that only you seemed to see. Why was this prick acting all humble?

“Ah, I always wanted to act in one of your films, Director Han. This is more of an amazing opportunity for me than you, honestly.”

That smoothed honey voice wrapped itself around the room’s premise, charming everyone around like it was coming from an alluring siren. All except you.

Your mouth filled with a coating of spite as his next sentence echoed through your ears. His eyes locked you in as a target, a wordless challenge shooting straight at your own.

“Plus, seeing who my co-star is, I’m quite thrilled to see the end product,” Seungmin grinned with a manic glint.

Fuck. You should’ve turned that damned car around yourself. Maybe then you’d be enjoying a relaxing time in the tub, surrounded by bubbling suds of fragrant soap, instead of being a frontliner in this mental war your acting counterpart seemed to subject yourselves to. Now, you had to withstand the feeling of your body instantly going on auto-pilot after his words.

It was commendable, really—how Seungmin could take over a space of this size filled with various types of people so easily. He had major talent in that field, which greatly accentuated his acting power. Seungmin had a way with words, and while you would never be caught praising him out loud, you couldn’t help but acknowledge the bitter truth deep inside the darkest parts of your brain. It was almost obsessive, the way your mind zeroed in on his presence. Even as you let the busy table chatter away into a buzzing noise that barely made its way coherently through your ears, your eyes stayed glued to the figure in front of you, carefully studying his mannerisms as he enthusiastically interacted with everyone. You weren’t someone who Seungmin’s charms would work on—instead, you felt like prey, waiting to be pounced on any second now.

Before you knew it, the table reading came to a close. You could faintly remember standing and packing your things quietly, more focused on the sudden stinging feeling you felt coming from your eyes, already threatening to water. “This is ridiculous,” you huffed in frustration. Why did you feel the need to cry like a child at this very moment?

“With the way your script is being shoved in that tiny bag, yeah, I would say that too.”

“Leave me alone, Kim.”

You hear him chuckle, causing your grip on your leather bag’s opening to become tighter, feeling the metal zipper bite at your palm. “There’s a lot of Kims here, Y/N. Be careful now; they might mistake you for being rude to them,” he chirps. Fucking chirps. Like a small bird who deserves to be doted on. Except the man before you was neither small nor deserved to be doted on—Kim Seungmin would never be described in any of those words in your world.

“Right. Since they’re also talking to me right now,” you scoffed back. Thankfully, that seemed to keep the tears at bay for now. You refused to break down in front of the most infuriating man in your life.

“Still stuck up as ever,” he sighs. Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets at his comment. You? Stuck up? If anything, that would be him! “This would be our first piece together after that charity drama our acting academy did way back a few years ago, so would it kill you to be civil?”

Ah. There it was. The infamous acting academy.

JYP Academy of Theatrics was admittedly one of the most successful acting academies in the country, known for producing many big name acts throughout its years of operation. Every aspiring actor has probably gone through the phase of wanting to be part of the academy’s carefully limited population of trainees—you included.

You remember the first time you brought up your plans on becoming an actress to your parents; their apprehensive faces telling you to try going to an acting academy first before giving up everything and running towards your dream blind. Young you didn’t realize the underlying implication that your parents were expecting you to be discouraged and give up on your thoughts of becoming an actress for good. Instead, you aimed high with the thoughts of their support, confidently applying for JYP Academy.

To your parents’ surprise, you passed both rounds of the screening, becoming a full-fledged acting academy trainee at one of the most prestigious places for it. It was also where you met the thorn in your life that was standing before you at the present.

“And frankly, I’m looking forward to this. So can we not ruin the mood on set?” He had the nerve to add. That was all you needed for your last string of restraint to snap.

“Why? So you could enjoy the power trip of watching me fumble around like a headless chicken after getting scolded a thousand times for my horrible acting skills?”

“What?”

You watched as Seungmin’s face morphed from exhaustion into a look of confusion at what you had just said. However, you knew better than to give him the benefit of the doubt—so you continued to shoot your bullets at him.

“I know you, Kim Seungmin,” you motioned towards him. “Don’t you dare think I’ve forgotten your days at the acting academy, especially that damned charity drama. But consider yourself lucky, since I won’t drag your ass down this time, Golden Boy. In fact, watch me shine on set even if it’s against your will or whatever is going on in that ego of yours, because I refuse to bow down to you. Things may have been different seven years ago, but I’ve grown since then. So if you want to prove to me that you have to, then know how to keep your mouth to yourself around me.”

After your little round of firing the pent-up rage inside of you, you snatched your bag from the table and stormed out of the room without another word. You had half the mind to worry if anyone had heard your little squabble with Seungmin, but you were already too far down the hall to go back and check, risking a blow to your conscience if ever you tried to go back. You only had the fact that you had managed to keep your voice surprisingly low throughout the whole exchange to console you.

With this, you continued your trek towards the parking lot to meet your manager once again—blissfully unaware of the state in which you left your co-star back in the room.

“What the fuck just happened?”

It took everything in Seungmin to not march after you and demand an explanation for what you had just said to him. In all honesty, Seungmin was baffled. Out of all the possible scenarios he had imagined to happen when meeting you, this was definitely not one of them. Sure, you two weren’t exactly the best of friends way back in your academy years, but he had at least considered you an acquaintance.

Even then, he didn’t remember your relationship being this bad. For all the times the both of you clashed heads, he couldn’t recall a single time serious bad blood was developed. The memory of you laughing joyfully as he messed up a line in your shared scene together on a monthly evaluation was still fresh in his memories—so just where did this hostility come from? If he were to base his conclusion off your words earlier, then it must have something to do with the charity drama, and that only made Seungmin more lost.

What you said earlier did hold some truth to them—you were scolded a lot by their advisor, slash project director, but in no way did you do badly in the production. Seungmin could testify to that. After all, he was witness to the amount of praise you got from fellow trainees as they watched you act out your scenes on camera, even though his younger counterpart was jealous of all the positive feedback. So now, he really couldn’t understand where your deep-rooted bitterness towards him came from. He even gave you some tips during the times you seemingly struggled with their advisor’s vision!

“Seungmin?”

He turned over to where his name was just called, seeing his manager approach him while bowing politely towards the small number of production staff left in the room. “Oh, did I take too long, Minho?”

“Yeah, but it’s alright. I knew you were going to catch up with a friend,” Minho looked around for a bit before continuing, “Speaking of which, did she go already?” Seungmin couldn’t stop himself from clicking his tongue at his manager’s words.

“It’s a long story.”

Well, two can play that game. If you truly knew him like you said you did, then you would know that Kim Seungmin isn’t one to give up when he sets his mind to something.

02 : TWO.

You wanted to give up right at this very moment.

Today was the first day of filming for the movie you were cast in as the female lead, yet here you were, one push away from having a mental breakdown. It was your first lead role—one that you had wished on countless stars to get ever since signing a contract with your current agency. Yet, now that you actually have it, you were left unsure of whether your acting could do proper justice to the character given to you. The confidence you flared towards Kim Seungmin a few days ago was nowhere to be found right now as anxious thoughts swirled through your head instead.

When you first read the script as one of your manager’s proposals for your next project, you instantly felt like the female lead’s role spoke to you the most. The plot itself was a masterpiece, clearly right up Director Han’s alley with its sentimental undertone and themes of self-discovery. It followed the male lead, returning back to his hometown for a high school reunion after just deciding to quit his job at a well-known corporation in the city. At the reunion, he meets the female lead, whom he remembers having the biggest crush on back in his teenage years—before he moved to the city for college.

In comparison, the female lead never left their homey countryside town. She attended the nearby community college and also settled her adult life in the same area. However, that didn’t mean that what she had achieved was all she wanted to do in life. Like everyone else, she too, had her own dreams. Unfortunately, she lacked confidence in herself to chase opportunities and got stuck right where her starting line was.

And in a way, she spoke to you.

You didn’t want to admit it, but perhaps you regret running your mouth like that at your co-star during the table read. It was a moment of weakness, you tried to tell yourself. Emotional you talked too big for what you could handle, so now you were left here to deal with the consequences of your actions.

But lies had their truths too.

It was true that you wanted to shine on set—outshining Kim Seungmin was just an added bonus to the thought. You’ve spent far too long in others’ shadows, never really feeling like you had the chance to show your fullest potential. That was something you fought for constantly, starting from your days at the academy up until the present, only to have no such luck. Maybe that was why you developed a habit of becoming pessimistic at the worst times, becoming your own enemy as you fall into a pit of self-sabotage, effectively going against everything you’ve ever wished for yourself. It was a cycle of keeping yourself confused with your own decisions, and it was a frustrating process.

You could only stare from the actors’ corner on the site as you watched the crew members run around making final arrangements for today’s shoot. Normally, you wouldn’t have seen this part of the process, as actors would often arrive later on when everything was nearly set, during their actual call time. You just intentionally went early, deciding that you weren’t going to get any more sleep even if you tried, seeing as most of the previous night was spent trying to make sure you had your lines all perfected. Sleep came rough yesterday, and you had no one else to blame but your own nerves.

At least the set looked great—today you were filming all the scenes needed for the high school reunion. The place was this quaint function hall in a small town about seven hours from the capital city, the same town you would be staying in to shoot for a little less than a week. You couldn’t help but think that maybe the new environment contributed more towards your slowly diminishing confidence, feeling yourself too far away from the strong presence of individualistic urban life. A defeated sigh was all you could do in attempt to ease yourself, even the slightest.

“I’m beginning to think this is going to become a pattern,” you hear a familiar toned voice comment. “Meeting you distressed, I mean.”

You spare the figure a half-hearted glance before rolling your eyes, forcing out an appropriate greeting. Or what was appropriate in your books, anyway.

“Oh, it’s you.”

Seungmin’s face displayed his feelings of amusement, which in turn made your frown deepen. “Not even a good afternoon? That’s harsh of you, Y/N,” he says in a tone made for mockery. “You really don’t like seeing my face, huh?”

“More like, I just don’t like you, period,” you grumbled in annoyance. “Also, why are you even here this early?”

Your surprise at his punctuality was real; you were not expecting to see him on set three hours early. But maybe you should have foreseen this behavior, seeing as the Seungmin you knew back then was also one to be on time during all lessons, activities, and practices. A part of you was then thankful for the question coming off as general because if you added any more comparisons, it would’ve seemed like you held on to too much information on him from the past.

“Just because I’m the main character doesn’t mean I should be fashionably late. Would it tick you off to know that I like being punctual with things?”

“Yeah,” was your immediate reply, not needing to think about it any further. “Since now, I have to time myself to arrive just before the call time.”

Seungmin lets out a deep sigh at your words. “You don’t want to spend any more time with me than necessary, got it.” He says, then lifting a finger up to tap against his ear. “But you know, you should really learn to keep your plans away from enemy ears.”

You tried your best not to show the inner war that just sparked inside of your head—you really shouldn’t have found that small gesture attractive, but the romantic side in you swooned so easily against your will. And for what? Kim Seungmin, of all people? You really should tone down all the enemies-to-lovers content you were consuming, because this was the last thing you wanted to happen. Real life just doesn’t play out like that.

Giving him some slack and perhaps a half-assed attempt at reverse psychology, you replied with a tired tone. “I’ll agree with you on that one, so you may walk away now, Kim.”

Except that Seungmin didn’t seem to catch the memo.

“Says the one who keeps talking,” he snarks at you. “For someone who told me to keep my mouth to myself around you, you’re the one who keeps the conversation flowing.”

You rolled your eyes for the second time since starting this conversation. At this point, you were convinced that Kim Seungmin was on a mission to dislocate it. “You just have to win everything, do you?”

“It’s my charm, I suppose.”

“And I disagree. The only charm you have is that mouth of yours you use to manipulate everyone around you.”

That seemed to snap something within Seungmin. “What the hell did I ever do to you?” He spits out furiously. “I would’ve already sued you for defamation if you acted like this around everyone else, so you should be thankful that I’m being tolerant of your attitude right now.”

“Thankful? Why would I be thankful?” Was your baffled response. “You know, I’m starting to believe that you don’t remember what you put me through all those years ago at all, and it’s only making me more upset that you seem to hold no remorse whatsoever.”

“If it’s that bad, then go ahead and tell me!” Seungmin hissed in an attempt to keep his voice down and not cause a scene. “I don’t have time for this roundabout game you have going on, and honestly, neither should you. We have a high-profile movie to film, and I would never let whatever this is ruin the hard work of a hundred people—so get your head out of your ass and either clench your teeth and save the working environment we have or be a dear and solve this issue with me right now.”

Now you were just barely containing your rage. It was at this point that you realized that Seungmin wasn’t faking anything; and that made it sting a lot more in your already scarred heart. Of course, someone like him wouldn’t understand why you were acting like this. Someone like him, born talented enough to be loved and praised by everyone, would never see the other side that you had to be dragged through—the side that existed all because of people like him, too.

“Fuck you, Kim Seungmin,” you croaked out through tears. “I knew someone like you would never understand.”

And you ran.

“What are—Y/N! Come back here!”

03 : THREE.

“Y/N, where in the world even are you? You need to come back to the actors’ tent right now!”

Changbin’s voice boomed through your phone’s speaker a lot louder than usual, causing you to jerk it away from your ear in pain. Well, you did deserve the scolding—after running off to God knows where in a relatively remote town you didn’t even know, you would be pissed as hell too if you were your manager. What kind of actress just leaves the set without a single thought like that?

“I swear, Y/N. Do not tell me you’re lost because I’m pretty sure I left you somewhere safe the last time I saw you,” you hear Changbin huff on the opposite end. “I can’t believe you told me that you were going to be fine on your own, and I actually trusted you. That’s it! I’m not letting you wander around the set anymore from this point onwards!”

You couldn’t help but find your manager’s rant funny, despite the clear threat being held above your head. “Really? I’m telling you that it’s almost call time, and you’re just laughing. Fine, go on your own soul-searching, or whatever it is you’re doing. I’m telling everyone you left your role to go play hooky—”

Oh, you could only wish. After your little squabble with Seungmin, playing hooky didn’t sound like a bad option. Sadly, you still had a conscience that weighed on you—even more hypersensitive to the people around it with your co-star’s earlier comment of ruining other people’s hard work. You hurriedly shook your head to get rid of the negative thoughts that were starting to plague your head once again, and instead focused on the group of trees that lined the path towards the entrance of the function hall.

“Changbin, I’m fine.”

“Damn right, you should be!” He screeches one last time before calming down. “But in all seriousness, you need to head over here now, or Director Han is going to chew me a new one. He knows my sister, and I don’t want to be berated for not doing my job properly by her of all people.”

You chuckled at the competitiveness in his voice. “Don’t worry, I just took a short walk for fresh air. You know how nervous I was earlier on the way to the set.” Changbin hummed in acknowledgement.

“And on the way to this town in general,” he teases. It didn’t last long, though, since he immediately followed up on your well-being with a soft tone. “Did the walk help? I can get you some hot tea too, if you want.”

“Look at you, finally being a proper manager,” you threw back at him, snickering as offended noises started to pour out of your phone. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll take you up on that tea offer. Plus, I’m just around the corner now.”

Once you saw his figure coming into view, you hung up the call and opted to wave your right arm to catch his attention. Changbin broke out into a frantic sprint towards you the minute he saw you approaching.

“Oh, thank whatever deity there is. You need to head over to the tent right now and—” He suddenly stopped mid-sentence, holding you still at arms length to give you a look of confusion as he scanned your face. “Did you cry? Why are your eyes like that?”

Shoot. You had totally forgotten about that for a second. “Ah,” was all you could muster in a sheepish daze. “It was just to let the nerves out, you know? It’s nothing serious.”

Changbin narrowed his eyes at your excuse, making you hold your breath unintentionally. It felt as though you were being picked apart, trying to find the truth that you desperately wanted to keep hidden. Eventually, the man before you decided to let it be, sending you off with an exhausted wave.

“Hm. Alright, and it’s already going away, so it must’ve just been a light session. Try to blink it out more so that it’s long gone once you step in front of the cameras.”

You silently breathed out a sigh of relief. “Will do. Thanks, Changbin.”

“Stop being a sap and head over to the tent already,” he chuckles before sending you a comforting smile. “Good luck. I’ll just be here.”

A grateful look found its way onto your face as you walked briskly towards the actors’ tent. You should really treat Changbin to dinner after all of this is over, you think to yourself, putting on your game face and entering the enclosed area with a newly steeled heart.

Now, Seungmin wasn’t the type to be overly concerned with others’ business. While he wouldn’t exactly call himself an extreme individualist, he still did have an appreciation for community. You wouldn’t catch him dead in the act of trying to mingle with someone else’s issues if it had nothing to do with him. However, all that seemed to somehow fly out the window whenever it had something to do with you.

To him, you were a person qualified enough to be considered intertwined with his own life. Sure, he hadn’t seen you in person for years, but that still would never be able to erase the fact that you knew him behind the cameras. Actually, even worse.

You knew the person he was before he even took up acting as a career.

Perhaps that was why he was so bothered by the way you were acting with him recently. He doesn’t even recall ever being that hostile to someone since his high school days, and that alone terrified him. It was like he regressed back to the days of his youth whenever he interacted with you—and that did more harm than good. The younger him was full of teen angst that he wanted to bury deep inside the confines of his past, but the animosity you seemed to harbor personally against him made him wonder if he was truly missing important information from that era of you both.

So when he saw you walk into the tent with fading redness evident in your eyes, just right after your small fight with him earlier, he instantly felt a punch in his gut. In all honesty, he wasn’t aiming to make you cry—it just so happened that the spur of the moment was so intense that he spat out things he barely meant. Sure, they still stemmed from the truth of how he felt since he did want to make amends with you, but even he wants to kick himself for the way he worded things so out of pocket. His reaction to the situation was so childish that it would be easier to think he finally went insane from the busy schedules he’s been doing than believe that what he did was a conscious decision. He was supposed to be the mature one at that moment, reaching out to fix the issue.

And yet here he was, feeling like a child in front of you.

He wanted to approach you, apologize for earlier, and maybe another one for whatever stupidity his old self did that was clearly bad enough for his mind to completely block out entirely. If you were reacting this much, it had to be at least somewhat of a traumatizing experience. Seungmin doesn’t think he ever got that bad back then, but everyone had different perspectives—and yes, young him had a tendency to be a prick. He still had friends, though, and no one ever called him in to discuss his behavior, so it wasn’t like he was a bully.

Either way, he felt the need to apologize—and maybe get an apology back, but his legs wouldn’t let him. A part of him knew that if he did approach you at the moment, you might run away again, and it was almost time for the briefing. Instead, he settled on looking at you across the pop-up room, hoping that his silent sentiment was delivered.

Which it was not. At all.

If anything, it added more pressure to whatever nerves you were holding back. Seungmin’s gaze was so piercing to the point that you didn’t even need to turn and look to know that he had his eyes locked on you. What does he want from you now? Oh, right—you two would be filming your scenes together in a matter of about an hour or two. Maybe this was Seungmin’s way of telling you to get your shit together while finally respecting your wishes to be left alone. Improvement is improvement, so you’d leave him alone to do his thing too.

“All right, is everyone here?” A lean man in his mid-twenties walked in, asking everyone inside. There was another person following him, yet seemingly younger. “It seems so. If someone you know is late, just fill them in with the details later.”

The first man lifted up a thick bind of paper, which you quickly recognized as the script. “I’m sure everyone has read their copy of this. My name is Hwang Hyunjin, and I’m the head scriptwriter for this film. Over here to my side is Yang Jeongin, my assistant. We’re here to give you a briefing on how this shoot will go for today since Director Han and Assistant Director Lee are busy with the filming crew as of the moment.”

So they were the ones behind the script. You felt your excitement levels increase as various questions about the story’s making filled your head—but you would save that for another day. Perhaps during the crew dinner after the movie’s filming was completed.

“Today, we’ll be filming one of the first scenes in the movie—the reunion. That’s why there’s a lot of you are here right now, despite the story only really having a few recurring characters. Still, whatever your role is, I hope you take this opportunity with pride. All of you here will be treated as actors for as long as you stand on this set, so have the dignity of one. Whether you have lines or not, what I expect from all of you is your best, and only your best,” Head Scriptwriter Hwang emphasized.

The briefing continued on with the necessary information for the reunion scene, with detailed clarifications and stage directions. If you weren’t locked in on all the information being fed to you, you would’ve had half the mind to acknowledge how strikingly handsome the man was upfront. A few others did, though, and you couldn’t really blame them. The guy could be an actor himself if he wanted to be.

“And I believe that’s all for now,” Head Scriptwriter Hwang clapped his hands in satisfaction. “Hair and makeup will take care of you all for about an hour and a half. I see that some of you already came prepared, so go ahead and touch up yourself if you want to. Main characters, you have your own booths,” he glances towards the stations at the end of the tent.

“You’ll be called up when needed. Actor Kim Seungmin, please get ready first since we need you for the entrance shots. That is all. Good luck.”

Head Scriptwriter Hwang bows politely to all of you before exiting the tent with Assistant Yang. With that, the battlefield begins.

You couldn’t remember much of what was happening other than you being sat down in front of a well-lit mirror and letting yourself become a doll in the hands of the make-up artists. The one assigned to your hair did start a short conversation about your previous works, to which you could only thank her shyly for her support. While you weren’t the most popular actress out there, you were still relatively well-known, with notable works under your belt. Seven years of experience wasn’t something someone could just laugh at, after all.

On the other hand, your co-star was a famous A-lister who was most likely getting paid significantly more than you for his role in this film. You glanced a bit to your right, where Kim Seungmin was happily chatting with his hair and makeup assignees, his voice effortlessly traveling its way over to your spot.

Ever the social butterfly, that one.

“Are you excited?” The woman assigned to your hair, who you learned was named Eunha, asked. You looked at her, startled by the sudden topic change. “Sorry—it’s just that you kept looking over at Actor Kim that it came to mind. He is quite the looker, isn’t he?”

“Oh.”

How should you even respond to that? It wasn’t like you could just go around advertising your personal beef with the man when, as far as you knew, he had a clean record on his plate. That would just be a lawsuit waiting to happen. You’d have to settle for something vague instead. “I guess,” you cringe at the evident pain in your voice.

“I’ve heard from others in the industry that he’s a great guy. You’ll have a blast filming this movie with him. I know it’s a bit awkward right now, but I’m sure you’ll warm up to him soon. After all, you’re both the lead roles.”

You’ll surely have a blast, alright—straight to the ego.

This conversation just gave you the unfriendly reminder that you had to act all lovey-dovey with this man, and if anything, it was triggering some unpleasant memories. By memories, you meant the charity drama from your acting academy days.

Your experience with that project was interesting, to say the least.

It had all started with Seungmin winning the prize of being the drama’s male lead after getting the top spot on the year-end evaluation for the junior level. Along with his prize came the privilege to choose who he would be acting alongside, only to surprise everyone when he chose you, a trainee who barely got recognition and wasn’t even in the top ten of your level. At first, you felt honored. It was like you were finally getting acknowledged, and by the top performer, no less. So you worked hard to do your part properly, wanting to repay Seungmin for his act of kindness; only for that kindness to turn out to be a mockery of you.

The difference in skill between you two was just too wide. Your shortcomings showed far too much, and your mistakes ended up being emphasized to the point that your level advisor became endlessly frustrated with you. First, it was the scolding. The woman clearly did not appreciate you holding back the entire production, especially since it was for a cause, so she would point out every problem in your acting, which quickly took a turn after you showed barely any improvement. Eventually, your advisor started to berate you—going as far as constantly referring to you as the reason the drama would fail. When you tried to raise the concern with her that it was affecting you negatively, she only brushed you off with a comment about how you should know to take constructive criticism this early to succeed in the actual industry.

At eighteen years old, you could only clench your teeth and accept your fate.

Things only got worse when you overheard Seungmin talking to his friends near the vending machines after practice one day—the same day they were talking about you.

“Dude, why did you choose Y/N to be the female lead?” One of Seungmin’s friends, Yeonjun, groaned aloud. “She’s awful at it. What? Do you like her or something?”

Seungmin only shrugged. “Not really,” he said, uninterested. “I just kept seeing her name during level advancements but never saw her doing anything to stand out. If she got this far, then I should give her a chance, no?” Yeonjun pursed his lips at the answer.

“That’s just cruel, man. The witch has it out for her now.”

“Then she can just do better,” Seungmin chuckles, taking a sip from his soda before continuing. “Not my problem anymore. If I do my role well enough, maybe they’ll pay less attention to whatever she’s doing.”

Beomgyu, another friend of his, scoffed. “So, like—you’re basically using her to your advantage.” You watched Seungmin wave him off without a care.

“Stop making it sound so bad like that,” he hums at the thought. “Let’s just say I’m saving her the embarrassment. Like you said, it was my fault she’s getting thrown around like this anyway,” Seungmin continues before tossing his empty can of soda in the trash.

And wow, did you feel like one after hearing that.

Starting from that point onwards, you held a dislike for Kim Seungmin. It did, however, give you enough spite to use as a driving force to do well in the charity drama—eventually climbing up to senior level right beside Seungmin, where you two clashed for the higher ranks before graduating and starting your own careers.

Despite this, the memory of the junior project still stayed ingrained in you, never really managing to fade away like you wanted it to, causing you to struggle in your quest to succeed in the industry. The deprecating thoughts came at the worst times, making you revert back to that eighteen-year-old who kept her tears at bay as the director shouted at her for the nth time.

It was particularly the worst right now.

“Cut! Bad take!”

You snapped your head towards Director Han, who looked so frustrated that he started to resemble a certain someone from the ghosts of your memories. Kim Seungmin was in front of you, his tongue poking at his cheek after hearing the comment. Right, you were at the set—shooting a scene. And you had just failed to say your next line.

“Actress Y/N, you can’t just keep forgetting your lines like this!”

04 : FOUR.

You really can’t go on forgetting your lines like this.

“Y/N.” Changbin sighs heavily. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

It would have been amazing if the gods could hear your plea. Your wish was fairly simple, after all—to be buried six feet under at the moment. To hell with being a popular actress; you wanted nothing more than to disappear right now after that stunt you just pulled. On the first day of filming, no less.

Should you just go dig your own hole instead?

“It won’t happen again,” you softly replied, like a child getting scolded by their mother.

Your manager could only take a deep inhale at your words. “And I believe you, I really do,” he says. “But I can’t just let this go like this.”

Of course, he couldn’t. You would do the same thing in his shoes. Changbin was a manager for an actress—an actress who clearly can’t even manage herself. Your job’s core had a simple description, and that was to act out your lines. Lines that you had to memorize, internalize, and perform. What was the point of having seven years of experience under your belt if you couldn’t even do the basics of your occupation?

“You have to understand, Y/N. It wasn’t just once, or twice, or heck—not even thrice! You had a minimum of five retakes per couple of lines, and that’s already concerning enough for me to have to intervene. Director Han was really disappointed today, and it’s only the first filming. The only reason you’re still coming back on set tomorrow is because, at the end of the day, we managed to get good takes despite the issues. So pray tell, is something wrong?”

The humble inn’s room you were staying in became devoid of sound from your lack of response, making the cicadas outside seem a lot louder than they actually were. Your sitting figure made you look small in front of the man before you, who was pacing across the room in distressed strides. In all honesty, you had nothing to say back to Changbin. As much as you trusted him like your own older brother, explaining your oh-so-stellar performance earlier would entail having to reveal your past with Kim Seungmin, which was the last thing on the list of secrets you wanted to get out. Thus, there was only one solution to your dilemma.

“Can we replace Kim Seungmin?”

Changbin’s jaw slacked. “What—him again?” He laughed humorlessly, completely baffled at your request. “And replace, you say? Y/N, at the rate we’re going, you’re the one in danger of getting replaced!”

Okay, you should’ve expected that. But the sting from your manager’s comment wouldn’t hurt any less, even if you did.

You were well aware of all of your shortcomings as an actress. The seven years you gained in this industry clearly taught you a lot of important lessons, but those same seven years barely did anything to your ability, no matter the amount of effort you desperately poured into your career. It felt like a futile attempt at pouring into a cup that had a big hole at the bottom—knowing you could be filled to the brim with the necessary factors to succeed exponentially, yet still letting everything go down the drain.

Maybe this was the wake up call you needed to acknowledge that you’re the only one holding yourself back. And you had the slight inkling that you knew all along where this whole mess stemmed from.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what, even?” Changbin ran a hand through his already tousled hair. “Look, if you really don’t want to tell me, then fine. I’ll respect your wishes. But you can’t expect me to understand where you’re coming from if I know nothing. Deal with how overbearing I could be, or I don’t know, just keep that in mind.”

“I understand.” You meekly nodded. “Sorry, again. I’ll do better tomorrow.”

With your vague words, Changbin eventually came to the conclusion that you weren’t going to speak about the issue today. Walking towards you, he finally accepted your decision with a light pat on the head. “You don’t have to say that to me, Y/N. Maybe to the crew tomorrow. And Actor Kim Seungmin if you want. Just promise me a better performance tomorrow, and we’ll be good.”

You chuckled dryly. “Yes, I’ll do that.”

“Alright.” Your manager rolled his shoulders back, releasing the tension that built up from his pacing. “I’ll go to my own room now. Get some good rest. You need it after what happened today,” he chuckles.

“Okay, good night.”

You plastered a small smile for him, only letting it drop completely after you heard the door shut. After that, it was just you and your mind, ready to play the most depressing thoughts all through the night to beat you down once again. However, you weren’t going to fall for that today. You had already promised a better performance on filming tomorrow.

And what better ways were there to achieve both than practice until the sun rises?

Well, that surely did it’s work for you because you walked into the set the next day looking like a few years had just shaved off your lifespan. But as long as you could still function well enough to participate in the shoot, then you would consider your little sacrifice worth it.

A certain someone would beg to disagree, though.

Seungmin has never felt more concerned in his life. Just what in the world did you do all night to come out of your room looking like a literal zombie? To make matters worse, no one was even batting an eye at your less-than-ideal state! He watched you get your makeup done from across the tent with a thoughtful expression.

“Is it just me, or did Y/N get no sleep whatsoever?”

Minho cringed at Seungmin’s blunt comment. “Oh, you noticed it too?” He purses his lip, feeling uneasy. “I feel bad for her, but after the mishap from yesterday, I wouldn’t be surprised if she stayed up all night trying to make sure it doesn’t happen again. No sleep is better than no role in this industry, after all.”

Seungmin frowned at his manager’s words. That can’t be right. Sure, as actors, getting roles to play was their bread and butter—but no project was going to be worth more than their own well-being. If your condition was bad, then how were you expecting to have the proper mindset to act well? That should be simple logic.

He huffed. “I’m going to talk to her.”

Before he could even take a step forward, a strong force had already pulled him back. “Stop right there, Seungmin.” His manager gripped his shoulder in warning. “I know you mean well, but please do not do anything to agitate Actress Y/N any further.”

Seungmin turns back in disbelief. “What are you even talking about?”

“Aren’t you two close? I know how you joke around when you’re comfortable, and I’m just letting you know that this might not be the best time to do so.”

The actor narrowed his eyes at the implication being thrown his way. “You know, you’re making me out to be a major ass right now.” Minho shrugged.

“That’s because one wrong move, and you might as well be,” he sighs. “Look, all I’m saying is that what she probably needs right now is support. Someone who would give her motivation to get through the shoot today.”

Seungmin deadpanned at his manager’s sudden advice. He wasn’t expecting Minho, of all people, to lecture him about how to properly interact with others. “Exactly?” The younger of the two raises a brow. “What else do you think I was going to do?”

Minho looked hesitant for a second. “You and I both know that you’re not exactly the most—” he trails off, making random expressive movements with his hands instead. Seungmin scoffed.

“Spit it out.”

“—Motivating. You’re probably the least motivating person here.”

Seungmin visibly blanched at Minho’s admittance. Truth be told, he wasn’t expecting the older man to say anything particularly nice, but the actual reveal was just completely out of his radar.

Even when he was young, Seungmin never struggled with making friends. He’s always been well-liked by the people around him, which has made him fairly popular amongst his peers. With such a positive response from a lot of people regarding him as a person, Seungmin was clearly gifted in the art of making friends. So now, being told that he lacked the skill of uplifting others greatly confused him. If that were true, then shouldn’t he have had the opposite experience with socializing?

“I—” He stutters, caught off guard. “Do my social skills not prove to be enough for you?”

“Those are two completely separate things,” Minho barely managed to suppress a sneer. “Seungmin, you’re great at casual talk—that’s no surprise. But you also have the tendency to be dense. And that’s putting it lightly.”

“Oh.”

That would make sense. A part of him also admitted that his younger counterpart did struggle with connecting to others. Yes, he had a lot of friends, but that didn’t mean he saw all of them equally. As harsh as that may be, the old Seungmin had this unfathomable standard for people he could call friends, which he used as a strict criteria for judging others. He still kicks himself whenever he gets reminded of how big his high horse used to be, for no reason. Seungmin was more than willing to leave that time of his life at the back of his mind to collect dust. His life has been so much better without it, and he would do anything to maintain this satisfactory present he has carved for himself.

His manager chuckled. “Who knows, though? Maybe you could finally practice your empathy with this conversation. You’ve been around professional robots for far too long.”

“That sounds like an insult,” Seungmin says, expressing his doubt.

“I’m just saying it as it is.” Minho patted his back twice. “Now, I already warned you enough. If you still want to talk to Actress Y/N, then go ahead. Just know that whatever comes out of that mouth of yours is completely your responsibility, and I will not cover for you if you come out of this one with a broken friendship.”

Seungmin let the words sink in.

“There you go, all done!” Eunha exclaims, lightly pushing your hair forward to make the volume more noticeable. You gave her a thankful smile.

Eunha was someone you'd only known for two days, but she was already becoming your favorite person on set. The way she manages to lighten your mood every time made her worthy of being on the list of people you greatly appreciated, especially with how things were going for you recently. Today too, her positivity was very welcomed.

“Thank you,” you say while admiring her work. “It looks pretty today too.”

The hairstylist beamed. “Of course it should be,” she huffs in pride. “You need to be the prettiest one here on set. After all, you’re the female lead!”

You knew she didn’t mean it to be, but her words felt like little stabs to your heart. The prickly ache spread slowly, like poison that was meant to be discrete. You chuckled to offset the pain.

“Right.”

Female lead. The character you worked so hard for—only for you to also ruin the chance with your own hands. You couldn’t help but think of how ungrateful you were being, and for what? A personal grudge towards your co-star, who was being more professional about the situation than you ever tried to be? It was almost laughable how belatedly you realized that the situation was never going to be in your favor. You weren’t someone looking to be pitied, so why were you hypocritically trying to paint yourself as the distressed damsel?

Eunha sent you a troubled glance as she fixed the tools on the table. “Are you alright? I—” She sighed. “I didn’t want to point it out earlier, but I guess my concern got the best of me. The bags under your eyes looked deep earlier—Yerin did a great job covering them up, though! You don’t worry about how you’ll look on camera, but I’m just worried about your condition.”

You sheepishly scratched your arm at being pointed out. “Sorry for worrying you. I just forgot the time last night and fell asleep late. You could say I was too excited to shoot again today.”

“Well, that’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

You jumped in your chair, startled by Seungmin’s voice suddenly joining the space on your side of the tent. Eunha’s eyes gave you a silent apology before bowing to Seungmin and heading out of the tent, indicating that her task was finished. Your gaze fluttered toward your co-star, who was looking at you in a disapproving manner. It was then that you remembered his comment.

“And that was rude of you to disrupt a conversation that had nothing to do with you.”

Seungmin wasn’t fazed by your bite. “Why didn’t you sleep?”

“I asked a question first, Kim.” You crossed your arms at being ignored. “Also, I did sleep.”

"No, you didn’t,” he pressed on. You could feel your blood pressure rise at his insistence. “Even a twenty-minute nap could do wonders. You just look horrible.” You scoffed at the insult.

“Gee, thanks. Exactly what I needed to hear.”

Seungmin’s eyes widened comically, and you almost laughed at the sight. Almost. He looked so guilty of what he had just said that you felt the urge to tease him as revenge.

“Wait, no—”

“An explanation isn’t necessary,” you hummed. “Even if that wasn’t a joke, I could really care less right now.”

Your reply made Seungmin flail his hands around like a madman. “It was a joke. I didn’t mean anything about it,” he coughs out before composing himself after realizing how silly he was acting. “Sorry.”

“Ok. Thank you for apologizing.”

“Sure,” he trailed off. Seungmin was now unsure of what to even do.

Oddly enough, your heart warmed at his reaction. A part of you was thanking yourself for finally becoming more rational, as you thought that maybe he wasn’t so bad. Sure, your past together was still rocky territory, but you had to remind yourself that time had also passed. Seven years at that. That detail took you back to the conversation you two had back at the table reading. You remember the way you hissed at him that you had changed—what made you assume that he couldn’t do it too? Everyone was allowed to become better versions of themselves, and Kim Seungmin wasn’t exempted from that. He was but another person living amongst others in this world, after all.

Changbin was right. Seungmin also deserved an apology.

“I guess I also owe you an apology,” you say softly. “About how I’ve been towards you the whole time—it was immature of me. I hope we can continue to work well until the end of this project, like you said yesterday.”

“Now, this is just odd.”

Seungmin was now utterly lost. He recalls approaching you despite Minho’s warnings, deciding that he had enough self-restraint to not screw it up—only to end up insulting you without meaning to. But that wasn’t the confusing part.

It was your reaction.

In Seungmin’s experience, you weren’t one to let something go like that. Even back when you both were in your senior level days at the academy, a simple jest from him would set you off into flames. The you he knew would immediately choose to chew him out, hoping that he would get burned by a rogue ember of your fury for even just attempting to speak such words. But the person in front of him right now did none of that. The you in the present simply took the accidental insult and even apologized for the ones you’ve spat out over the previous days. It was a whiplash, to say the least—just yesterday he was still fighting to keep you in a flowing conversation. So, what was this he was witnessing?

“Is it?” You snicker. “Just think of it like winning. You were right. This is a high-profile project, and I’m over here messing around. I’ve prepared a better performance for you all to see today, so be rest assured.” Seungmin still wasn’t assured.

“Y/N, are you sure you’re alright—”

“Main characters on set!”

Damn. So that’s how it feels for your conversation to get interrupted by someone unrelated to it. Seungmin internally acknowledged your annoyance earlier and kicked the memory of himself from a few minutes earlier.

You turned back to him, tilting your head. “What was that?” Seungmin refused to admit that he found the action cute.

“No, it’s nothing,” he said, clearing his throat. “Let’s have a good shoot.”

05 : FIVE.

Okay, you do not think this was turning out to be a good shoot.

You were already regretting pulling another all-nighter the day after you got absolutely no sleep. This meant that you were already nearing 48 hours of no sleep, to which you were surprised you were still even capable of functioning. You had never gone this long without sleep, and it was both thrilling and terrifying to you at the same time.

Honestly, you were already expecting to feel lethargic after the shoot yesterday, especially after staying up the entire night to master your parts and was planning to go to sleep early to make up for it. However, after getting nothing but praise from the directors and filming crew the whole day for your stellar performance that day, you came to the conclusion that perhaps your sacrificial act was exceptionally effective. A little too effective since your manager even said that your acting became much more alive than the takes you did the previous day, despite feeling the complete opposite internally.

Now, while you normally wouldn’t describe yourself as someone who was peer pressured easily, it still felt really nice for your hard work to be acknowledged after the disappointing performance you had the day before. Which also led you to your current predicament—woefully repeating the same magical process that helped you gain your reputation back.

“You’re yawning an awful lot.” Seungmin raised a brow in question. “Don’t tell me that all the praise you got yesterday already got to your head, and you suddenly find all this boring.”

An irked look made its way onto your face, pinching hard on Seungmin’s arm. You watched in satisfaction as he yelped audibly at your damage, jerking away in reflex. “What the fuck, woman?”

“It’s what you get,” you say nonchalantly while shrugging. Seungmin scoffs at the response.

“Just because we have a truce now doesn’t mean you can abuse me whenever you like,” he snarls. “What happened to the Y/N who didn’t want me to talk to her unless, quote on quote, necessary?”

You cringe at the unwelcome reminder of your previous activities. “I apologized! Would you rather have me act like a total bitch again?”

“Well—no. That Y/N was a pain to deal with.”

“Then be grateful for what you have right now.”

Seungmin lets out an amused snort, crossing his arms and leaning backwards closer towards the living room’s walls, where you two were on standby. “Oh, believe me. I’m more than grateful.”

The set right now was in a cozy cottage house, designed to imitate what the female lead’s family home would look like. You had already moved past the beginnings of the main characters’ romance yesterday and were now heading into the development stage, where they spend more time together until they realize their feelings. A domestic scene in one character’s home was a popular trope—which was, of course, also included in the movie.

If today’s shoot goes well, then you only have one day left in the filming process before everyone packs up to head back to the city. Not for Seungmin, though. The male lead still had to film the first part of the movie where he quit his job at the company. You’d have to laugh at him about it on the last day.

First, you had to get through this shoot without fainting flat on your face.

It was a particularly hot day too, which made your drowsiness even worse. The rural countryside cottage didn’t have an air conditioner set up, so you had to make do with fans all over the place. But that barely did anything to cool you down, as the air around the place itself was humid. At least you weren’t shooting out in the sun today.

“Geez, my makeup might melt even before we start filming,” you groan. “That’s if my head doesn’t explode first.”

Seungmin chuckles. “Blame your character for being a sweater enthusiast. That outfit must be torture in this weather.”

He wasn’t wrong about that. The thick baby blue cardigan you were wearing felt like a punishment to wear at the moment. It was unfortunate that you felt really cute in this get-up because you wanted to trash on it so badly.

Actually, fuck it. Comfort matters more.

“I don’t understand how she does it,” you whine dramatically. “Every scene she’s had has her wearing some kind of version of a sweater. Does she not get hot at all?” You pull on your slightly weighted cardigan.

“I do think she’s plenty hot enough.” Seungmin smirks, glancing at you while waiting for your reaction.

You hummed in agreement. “She’s probably just tolerating it since it's her clothing style. I’ve had my fair share of those moments too.”

It wasn’t something you could see since you were more preoccupied with watching the staff prepare for filming, but Seungmin’s ears were slowly turning red. He took note of how his less than savory joke completely flew over your head, now leaving him to drown in the embarrassment of his original intentions.

Internally, he was already having a boxing match with himself. He thinks she’s plenty hot enough? What does that even mean? You were the only image he had of the female lead since you had her role! Seungmin wanted the ground to suddenly swallow him whole at the implication.

You, on the other hand, were fighting a completely different battle. The combination of the heat and your severe lack of sleep was becoming dangerous. You could already feel a growing pounding in your head, the world’s noise becoming more muffled by the second. It seemed like your vision wasn’t affected yet, though—and for that, you were relieved. That meant you could still stretch yourself out until the shoot was finished. You’d already done this once yesterday, so a second time wouldn’t be that bad, right?

Wrong.

Seungmin’s voice as he carried out his lines in the scene seemed so far away to you already, and it had only been an hour since the cameras started rolling. Internally, you were already sounding the sirens. Something was definitely wrong—you don’t think Seungmin was supposed to sound like he was underwater.

Your co-star seemed to notice that you were out of it too, except he couldn’t exactly stop the scene as you were still conducting your parts as proficiently as you could. Director Han hasn’t called a cut yet, either. So, he settled on carefully watching you for signs. You also thought you could last until the scene was over—until you couldn’t.

The last thing you remember was a figure rushing over to you before your sight went pitch black.

“Y/N!”

“Cut!”

Seungmin felt his heart race as he dashed over to catch you from crashing to the ground. What was going on? You were completely fine a while ago. How did you end up fainting? Could it have been the heat? He didn’t think it was going to be that bad for you since he was dealing with it pretty well. The heat wasn’t exactly unbearable. So what was it?

“Actor Kim Seungmin,” D.O.P. Bang called out. “We should take her to the medic tent. Someone, call her manager.”

Seungmin had never agreed more to a suggestion in his life.

“Seungmin? What’s—” Minho’s face paled in shock at the sight of your limp figure. “Oh, shit. That’s why everyone is running around like headless chickens. Quick, let’s get her to the medics.”

Minho sped over to give the actor a helping hand on steadying you, only to be stopped. “We’re wasting so much time.” Seungmin clicks his tongue.

Everyone could only watch as Seungmin positioned his arms on your back and behind your knees, hastily pulling you up towards him in a bridal carry and speeding away to the medic’s tent. Minho’s jaw dropped at his talent’s actions before recovering from the shock and tailing him.

“Seungmin!”

“What?” Seungmin responds half-heartedly as he sets you down on the cushioned stretcher, stepping back as the medics do their job.

“You—” Minho squeaks out. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That!” He gestured towards you, still unconscious and being checked on by the medics on standby. “Did you just carry Actress Y/N?”

Seungmin ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “And what about it? Did I commit a crime or something? I was just helping!”

Minho was conflicted. In all the years he had been working as Seungmin’s manager, the actor had never shown this much attention towards his other co-workers, despite maintaining an approachable and friendly image. Of course, that wasn’t particularly a bad thing—especially in an industry where caution towards everyone around you was basic common sense to prevent yourself from going down a road that would lead to your demise. The view was great up where it was high, but the fall was just as immense.

What Minho did acknowledge was your past with Seungmin. Because of that, he was inclined to think more about your friendship with his talent and how that played into your dynamic. Yet, over the course of the two days you two had been filming, he hasn’t exactly seen the kind of relationship he was expecting. There were discrepancies in what he knew about you and Seungmin, as well as gaps in the bond his actor painted a picture of. In times like these, there were only a few reasonable explanations that Minho could think of, which made him uneasy.

Something big was coming in the future—one that he needed to prepare for as early as now.

Hurried footsteps could be heard nearing the tent as Seungmin and Minho diverted their lines of sight towards the entrance, just in time to see a fairly muscular figure come in all frantic. “How is she?”

Minho immediately recognized the man from a conversation he had in the personal staff area, recalling his introduction as your manager. The former bowed slightly in greeting. “Manager Seo Changbin.” Seungmin felt his blood boil after seeing your manager’s late entrance.

“Where even were you?” He asked coldly, intentionally making his tone sharp. “You know, for her manager, you sure are practically nowhere to be found during shoots.”

Changbin splutters at the accusation. “Y/N doesn’t like it when I stay to watch! She says it’s pressuring!”

“Sure. But it’s your job to be on standby in the event that she needs you. How come you weren’t?”

“I—”

“Okay, that’s enough.” A new face entered the space, who Seungmin quickly made out to be Assistant Director Lee. The second-in-hand gave him a disapproving look. “Actor Kim Seungmin, please stop lashing out at Actress Y/N’s manager.”

Seungmin felt like he was seconds away from committing arson. “I’m not lashing out if it's a reasonable argument!”

He felt someone grab a hold of him, forcefully pushing him down to sit. It was only then that Seungmin seemed to finally be conscious of how emotionally he had been acting—accepting Minho’s foresight on his actions. Assistant Director Lee, on the other hand, did not appreciate his recklessness.

“That it is, but we’re going to need you to stay calm,” he states. “The situation is sensitive enough as it is.”

Seungmin felt like he had no choice but to agree. He couldn’t risk making an unreasonable scene in such a respected project set, and knowing you, a tension-filled tent wasn’t going to be your preferred area of rest. Glancing back at your unconscious figure still being tended to, he let out a sigh to release the extra pressure in his chest.

Just what was he doing right now?

Once Assistant Director Lee saw him calm down a significant amount, he clapped to disperse the heavy silence. “Great. Now, can someone inform us when she wakes up so we can restart the shoot?”

So much for calming down, because Seungmin’s temper flared up again in an instant. “Are you kidding me?” He growled. “No, we are not proceeding with filming today!”

“Actor Kim, we don’t have enough time—”

“I’ll pay for all the expenses for the extension and rescheduling of all the remaining shoots. Put all of it under my personal bank account.”

Minho’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets in shock. “Seungmin, what—”

“I said what I said,” Seungmin continued. “Now go do it. Both of us won’t step in front of the camera for the rest of the day.”

“You can’t just decide that for Actress Y/N,” Assistant Director Lee reasoned in disbelief.

Unluckily for him, Seungmin had already made up his mind—and when that happens, he isn’t one to give up on it.

“Then we’ll tell her it’s cancelled because I’m sure as hell won’t be filming today. You can’t make her act out the scenes prepared today without me.”

Assistant Director Lee was conflicted. Taking a day off so suddenly when they’d already had everything set up was going to be such a waste—and frankly, Director Han was already on edge about it. Granted, this wasn’t the first time he’d come across this situation, and certainly won’t be the last in his time in the industry. Now, an actor telling them that they’d pay for the cost of their demand? That one was new.

Kim Seungmin was notorious in the field for being a perfectionist, so he honestly came in here expecting him to agree with their plan. Maybe he should’ve considered the rumors he’d heard around the set that Actor Kim and you were closer than they initially thought. With that, Assistant Director Lee could only sigh. He’d just have to deal with Director Han’s displeasure.

Along with being a perfectionist, Kim Seungmin was also incredibly stubborn.

“I understand,” he concedes. “I’ll inform Director Han.”

Seungmin tried not to show his surprise on his face. He didn’t think he’d actually get this result so easily, but it was welcomed. “Thank you.”

“Let us know if you change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

Assistant Director Lee chuckled at Seungmin’s firm reply before announcing his leave. The atmosphere in the tent improved as he stepped out, but awkwardness still lingered in the air. Minho dropped down to slump on a plastic chair, leaving Changbin to stand stiffly near him.

“Y/N is totally gonna kill you, dude.” Minho groans, completely letting go of formalities in stress.

Seungmin had half the mind to be embarrassed by his choices. “And to think I’m doing this all for her sake,” he scoffs good-naturedly before turning to your manager. “Did something happen before the shoot? She couldn’t have passed out like this just because of the heat today.”

Changbin scratches at his neck. “Uh, I’m not sure—”

“—It’s exhaustion,” one of the medics spoke up. “Her body seems to be completely fatigued, as well as slightly dehydrated, but that must be the heat’s contribution. Has she not been getting enough rest?”

They watched as Changbin’s face morphed into shock, completely unsure of how that could’ve even happened. “But she said she was going to bed early yesterday!”

Your manager was slowly getting on Seungmin’s nerves. First, it was his constant absence from the set. Next, it was his blatant disregard for your well-being. The last time he checked, a manager was supposed to be aware of their talent’s condition as much as possible. Any less and it would be neglect.

He narrowed his eyes. “The picture you’re painting for me is not a good one, Manager Seo.”

“What are you implying right now, Actor Kim?” Changbin pounced back, Seungmin’s tone stirring negative emotions inside him.

Seungmin refused to back down. “You know damn well.”

“Kim Seungmin!”

“Watch your mouth—”

A rustling noise interrupted the three men’s small disagreement. “Ugh,” you groaned in pain. “What in the world?”

“Y/N!” Seungmin jumps up without a second thought to rush over. In the distance, Minho and Changbin’s eyes meet in mutual speculation.

“Seungmin, sorry, but please shut up.” You raise a hand to cradle your head. “My head is pounding.”

You could vaguely make up a medic handing Seungmin some pills and a bottle of water, saying something about how you were stable enough to just need rest and hydration. The next thing you knew was feeling a hand gently take your chin to create an opening and a pill being dropped inside, along with a water bottle pressing against your lips. You gulped it down in shock.

“The fuck—” You coughed. Another hand came up again to wipe some of the water you spilled around your mouth before you pushed it away. “Kim Seungmin!”

Your co-star rolled his eyes at your dramatics. “Would it kill you to stop being so fussy?”

“Not when you’re treating me like a child!”

Changbin clears his throat, effectively stopping your bickering. “Uh—I’m going to go get us lunch,” he meekly informs you two. “The medics also already went out to get food earlier, so I think we need to get our share before it’s all gone.”

Minho nods at Changbin’s words a bit too enthusiastically for your liking. “I’ll come with him. You two can talk while waiting.”

The two of you watch as your managers dash out of the tent like cartoon characters, raising a suspicious brow at their sudden change in behavior. Seungmin clicked his tongue in annoyance before turning back to you and flicking a finger at your forehead without warning. You squealed at the added pain as Seungmin’s suppressed laughter filled the room.

“You are such an asshole!” You shriek while bringing both hands to shield your forehead belatedly.

“And your hair looks like a nest,” he replies with a snicker.

You gave him a glare at his comment, rubbing the sore spot gently. “Shit,” you whined, feeling the ache from inside your head again. “I can’t believe I fainted. How long was I out? What about the shoot? Are we resuming after lunch?”

The questions you were asking him only served as Seungmin’s reminder of his actions earlier, causing his mouth to run dry. Truth be told, even he was unsure of how to tell you everything that happened while you were away in dreamland. He couldn’t just drop the ball at you that he made sure that the shoot had been cancelled just for you to have the rest of the day to rest up. At the same time, there was practically no other way to convince you that the cancellation wasn’t your fault unless he told you the truth.

But Seungmin had already caused you enough misunderstandings to last a decade—and he wasn’t about to add another one.

“You weren’t out for long,” he told you. “I’m actually surprised you even woke up right away. The shoot’s cancelled.”

He watched you pause to let the words sink in. What did he mean by the shoot’s been cancelled? Wouldn’t that be too costly? After all, you were literally renting a place far away from the city to shoot this movie. A shoot cancellation meant an extension, which also meant new arrangements needed to be made. You curled up into a ball, wanting to evaporate into the clouds at the heat of the sun. How much more were you going to screw up everyone’s experience with this project?

“Is it because of me?” You muttered.

Seungmin felt something inside him break at how small you made yourself seem. This was exactly what he was trying to avoid, only to once again fail to prevent it. That one was on him, though—he didn’t manage to tell you right away that he was the one responsible for the shoot’s cancellation. He felt the need to chase away your negative headspace as fast as possible.

“Why do you always blame yourself first? I cancelled the shoot, so just get some more rest.” He sighs.

Your eyes snap upwards to meet his. He had got to joking. “What?” You ask, bewildered at the statement. “And they agreed? I can still continue!”

Seungmin immediately acts to lift your legs back up on the stretcher when he sees you trying to get up. He places a heavy hand on your calves to lock them in place before sending you an unamused stare. “Land a single foot out of this stretcher, and I’ll make sure the shoot gets moved to next week.”

“You can’t just do that!” Your mouth gaped open like a fish. “Do you even know how bad the cost is going to be to extend for that long?”

“I’m more than capable of shouldering the expenses.”

That single statement made your stomach drop. “You cannot be serious,” was your horrified reaction. “Seungmin, did you pay for the extension costs?”

The man before you only shrugged, like he hadn’t just dropped significant information. “What about it?” You blanched at his unconcerned attitude.

“What do you mean, what about it?” You asked, absolutely outraged. “I swear, you’ve always been like this! You think you could just play around with everything around you, since you can. Why can’t you take things seriously for once?”

It was Seungmin’s turn to look offended. “Now, when did I ever do that?”

“The charity drama!” You cry out. “Yeah, I knew all about your little plan back then. If you acted well enough, they wouldn’t pay attention to whatever mess I was making, was it? I even overheard you telling your friends you chose me to become the female lead just because you were curious about how I kept advancing levels when I barely met the standard—and there I was foolish enough to believe that you chose me for my skills!”

“I—” Seungmin stammers. “I don’t remember that.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” you held back a sob, feeling emotional as you poured out your inner insecurities. “Why would you? Someone of your caliber could go around bending things to your will, and no one would bat an eye since they would justify it with your talent. I’m the complete opposite, Seungmin.”

Seungmin was quite alarmed, to say the least. These were your side of the story—the side that he never got to acknowledge. He could only watch you try to keep yourself together in front of him, clearly struggling as your emotions ran wild at the release of what seemed to be years of suppressed experiences. His body was screaming at him to move and comfort you in any way he knew how, but for the first time in his life, Seungmin was completely frozen in guilt.

“I’ve lived the life below people like you. We were the ones that were always stuck in the shadows, where stepping on us became the norm. People like us were the pieces in your games of chess who couldn’t even speak out in the fear of being thrown out.” You inhaled deeply before meeting his gaze. “It was a life you would never even begin to imagine experiencing at your ability, Seungmin.”

Your words were like spears thrown at Seungmin’s heart. They all rang true in his head. He would never understand what you went through because he was part of the problem. Seungmin thought back to his past, trying to recall where it all started.

He was a young child, only ten years old, when he discovered his passion for acting. His class decided to do a play for the school festival, and he got the role of the main character completely by chance through drawing lots. Young Seungmin didn’t think of it too much and agreed out of obligation. It wasn’t until practices started that he started to take an interest in it after receiving constant praise from his classmates and homeroom teacher. This fascination only bloomed more on the day of the festival, where he found out that performing for people could be this exhilarating.

From then on, Seungmin made it his lifelong dream to become an actor. Seeing his talent in the field, his parents supported him wholeheartedly, eventually leading to them suggesting he join an acting academy to improve. The praises didn’t stop even after he joined the academy—in fact, they only doubled in frequency, making Seungmin come to the conclusion that he must’ve been some sort of prodigy. Perhaps it was due to that mindset of his that he paraded around like the world was his. To his defense, none of the adults around him saw the wrong in his behavior and even went as far as encouraging it.

It was when he graduated from the academy and started his work as a professional actor that he got humbled by all the talent around him. Everyone seemed to be on his level or greater, which completely shattered his worldview. During those times in his rookie years, he learned the importance of hard work and how much it could really make a difference. There was one time that he thought to himself—maybe this was the reason he felt so attracted to you.

You were the first person he ever associated with the difference that hard work brought. Seungmin first noticed you on the first day of intermediate level. He had gotten to that level first and thus kept an eye out for notable candidates from the beginner level. The thing is, he had never even heard of you or any of your performances—so it was a complete surprise to see you climb up to intermediate level. From then on, he observed you from afar, never really approaching. To him, you seemed plain; someone who didn’t even exude star quality. So eventually, he forgot all about you again.

Until he saw your name on the same paper as his, indicating that both of you would be in the same batch that got promoted to junior level.

The charity drama was another project Seungmin gained an unexpected opportunity from. With the privilege given to him as the top ranker for the year-end evaluations, he chose you as his female lead. All Seungmin wanted was to see what kind of shine you had as an actor, and he was rewarded greatly with your stellar performance after days of painful practices. When you were once again bumped up to senior level right alongside him, he was ecstatic. You had changed since the charity drama, and your aura started to take up more space in their small practice room. Seungmin wanted to get closer to you, but the two of you would only end up clashing every time. He guesses that you and him were just complete opposites in everything, down to your work ethic. He still tried to interact with you in any way he knew how, though—which led to his friends teasing him about his little crush on you.

Now, he couldn’t help but think that maybe they were right.

Seungmin pulled his hand away from your calves, letting his hands fall down on his sides before bowing deeply. “I’m sorry. There would be no excuse for my actions, and it’s even worse that I have no recollection of the details when I’ve obviously affected someone. I know an apology wouldn’t erase everything that has already happened, but it would be the start of my attempts to make sure it doesn’t happen again. At this point, all I can ask for is your forgiveness.”

You quickly reached out to grasp his arms, trying to pull him up from his act of remorse. “Get up—oh my god. It’s fine, Seungmin. Really. I’ve already forgiven you yesterday, honestly. My behavior also had some faults towards you, and it was unacceptable.”

“Knowing why now, I think it was more than reasonable.”

You let out a laugh at his words. “You’re just trying to make me feel better,” you teased. “Now, I think the other crew members also deserve an apology from us.” Seungmin’s face paled at the reminder. Just imagining Assistant Director Lee scolding him for his audacity earlier was sending him into early retirement.

“Yeah,” he coughs. “But can we not take back the shoot cancellation? It would be so awkward for me if we did, and you still need the rest.”

“Fine, you big baby.” You pinched his cheek after seeing his childish pout. Seungmin was quick to swat your hand away, despite the burning sensation he could feel heating up his ears. “So does this mean we’re friends?”

Even if he could feel a crack form in his heart from your innocent words, Seungmin refused to show it.

“Sure. Friends.”

06 : SIX.

Being friends with Seungmin was odd.

Granted, you already got a taste of what that felt like for the two days that flew by since you two decided on a truce. However, you didn’t really feel much of a change in your dynamic in those two days—not until things took a turn after your conversation in the medic tent.

After your little heart-to-heart session, Seungmin had begun acting strangely. And by strangely, you meant becoming a complete one-eighty from the Kim Seungmin you were used to. It was almost like he was replaced by a softer, more warm-hearted version of himself. In one talk, you were suddenly subject to his endless affection, albeit still exhibiting the Kim Seungmin flare that you were comfortable with. Overall, it was just weird to think that four days ago, the two of you were fighting like cats and dogs. Now, you watched him bounce up and down as he gave himself a pep talk to prepare for the kissing scene.

“Are you that nervous?”

Seungmin flinches at your question, seemingly not expecting your voice to enter his head while he was seconds away from a meltdown. Your co-star looks at you sheepishly. “Is that bad? This is driving me insane.”

That was another thing different about Seungmin after the medic tent incident. He acted a lot more endearingly in your eyes. You faintly recall a comment you made a few days ago about how Seungmin would never be akin to a small bird who deserved to be doted on. But seeing the Seungmin in front of you right now, you might just take back your words.

Kim Seungmin had a lot more layers than you thought—and you found yourself wanting to uncover them all.

“I’m sure this isn’t your first kiss on camera,” you snort. “Just go do it like you usually do. Act like how your character would act in the moment. You have my whole consent, anyway.”

Seungmin wanted to tell you how much you didn’t understand his dilemma right now. In all fairness, even he was somewhat unsure of what was happening to him the past few days. All he did know was that he was right in what he thought during the first day of filming—he really did feel like he was turning younger in front of you.

It was almost embarrassing how easily he slipped into that carefree attitude around you, especially after your conversation in the medic tent. He was doing so well up until then, so what happened? Seungmin couldn’t be more curious about his own actions. He did have an inkling of what it was, but he needed more proof to act on it. Seungmin couldn’t risk becoming more of an idiot in your eyes. You already had too much of that experience with him during your filming yesterday, which was the rescheduled shoot of the one he demanded to pause.

That also meant that this was the last day you two had on set together before everyone packed their bags and headed back to the city. After that, it would be just him again on set to film the movie’s first scenes of his character.

Seungmin wasn’t disappointed. He totally wasn’t.

“What are you going to do if I lose control and give into my character, huh?” He argues. You stopped reading your script to give him an unamused stare.

“Seriously?” You scoffed. “If you really must know, then I wouldn’t do anything. If that’s what the male lead feels, then the female lead just needs to reciprocate if they’re really in love with each other. As their actors, we need to deliver those same emotions.”

You didn’t get what was making Seungmin so on edge about the scene. Reviewing his past works, this certainly wouldn’t be his first on-screen kiss, nor was it his first romance project as the male lead. What made you so different from his other co-stars that was making him act like a rookie?

“If anything, I should be more nervous than you. This is actually my first kiss scene!”

“That’s just even worse!” Seungmin whines, burying his face in his hands. “This is gonna be terrible.”

It was then that you finally had an idea as to why Seungmin looked like he was having a mid-life crisis this early in his life.

You felt a grin creep up on your face and paste itself there. “Did you want this to be a good memory for me?”

Seungmin groans at your poking. “Stop teasing me! So what if I do? Did I commit a crime, huh?”

“The crime of stealing my heart, yes.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Thank you,” you laugh. “I try my best.”

Seungmin mutters something beneath his breath—something you couldn’t hear because of Director Han calling for the two of you. He watched as you skipped away, leaving him to follow in your footsteps. Seungmin smiled at the picture painted in front of him.

“I know.”

You stopped at your designated place in front of the camera, turning back to look at Seungmin beside you, who was already sweating bullets. Your hand unconsciously lifts up to wipe them off, which startles the both of you. Seungmin opens his mouth to say something but was cut off by Director Han’s loud voice.

“Alright!” He claps. “This is our last scene for the day before we call it a wrap! I’m sure you two already know what it is, so all I’ll say is don't think too much about this. Enjoy it, or whatever you want to do—as long as it looks natural. Sounds good?” The two of you nod at him.

“Okay, camera starts at three,” he says, motioning towards D.O.P. Bang. “Two, one. Action!”

You took the opportunity to appreciate the scenery around you as the camera started rolling. The scene was set on a hill with a breathtaking view of the rest of the town. Hues of orange and pink start to tint the surroundings as the sun sets in the background. It was nothing less than ethereal, and you almost envied the female lead for having this moment in her life.

“I’ve always wanted to take someone here,” Seungmin says, reciting his lines. “When I was younger, I told myself that I was going to bring my true love here and propose. It was unfortunate that I moved away—this was my favorite spot in the whole world.”

You let yourself completely immerse in the situation. “Propose, huh? I’m sure the lucky person would love it up here. It’s so serene, like it's taking away all your stress just by being here.”

Seungmin gently grabs your hand into his, making you turn to meet his eyes. You almost gasped out of character after seeing the immense amount of love swirling in his gaze. Love looked great on him, you pointed out in your head. One day, Seungmin was going to look at someone else with the same gaze—someone that he loved with all his heart. A tinge of hot green jealousy burned in your stomach at the thought.

Part of you yearned for someone to look at you even just a fourth of the way Seungmin portrayed the male lead’s longing for the female lead. But for now, you had a role to fulfill. You could just lock these feelings up for later.

“Do you?” He asks. Your breath hitches at his question. “I’m not proposing—well, not yet. But I brought you here for a similar reason.”

Seungmin reaches for your other hand, now holding both of them. “I love you so much. I know our time together hasn’t been the longest, but it seems like my heart has found its way back home. Honestly, I first thought that it was just because I was back in town, but eventually I realized that I felt at home with you too.” He caresses your knuckles with his thumbs. “Maybe my heart knew where it belonged long before I did. I loved you back then, just like I love you now.”

You couldn’t help but genuinely tear up at Seungmin’s monologue. It was such a beautiful feeling to be loved, and you hoped that someday you could experience the same kind of love you acted with. “So, I’ll ask you this question,” Seungmin continued.

“Will you be mine?”

“Yes,” you sobbed out.

Seungmin lifts his hands to cup your crying face, bringing you closer to his own. The moment your lips connected felt so magical that you ended up leaning in more, savoring the moment with your fluttering heart. Seungmin reciprocates the act, kissing you with more emotion than he did just a second ago. His lips felt like smooth pillows, coaxing you to release all the tension you had left and rest—with him. Seungmin was being careful yet passionate at the same time, leaving you to drown in the sheer magnitude of the butterflies.

You couldn’t help but love every passing second that you were lost on his lips.

When you two pulled away due to the lack of air, he kept his forehead to yours, noses touching. The soft sound of both your laughter filled the surrounding area.

“Cut! That’s a wrap for today!” You hear everyone start cheering at Director Han’s words. Seungmin chuckles at them as he slowly steps back, missing the way your body followed after his warmth.

“Congratulations,” he says gently. You felt your heart skip a beat. “Your first on-screen kiss, done. How did I do?”

Oh, this was going to be dangerous for your heart.

07 : SEVEN.

There’s been an empty feeling in your heart since yesterday that you were trying to ignore.

It was currently the day after you returned to the city. You watched the bustling streets of urban life filter through the car’s tinted windows while Changbin continued to drive you back home after a busy day in the company. Something you had never expected to happen was getting attached to the small countryside town you filmed in enough to miss it like this.

You felt it when you stepped out of the car yesterday to head back to your apartment—the polished concrete floors of the parking building suddenly felt foreign to you. The abundance of luxury cars was evident in the space, reminding you that you were once again in the city. It felt almost cold and lonely with the way you couldn’t see the hills you got used to seeing all day long. But it would do, you think to yourself.

The city could also be warm if you wanted it to be.

“Oh? I think they’re filming the first scenes of the movie in a building around here,” Changbin pointed out from the driver’s seat. “Minho mentioned this street a day ago.”

You raised a brow at his words. “Since when did you and Seungmin’s manager get so close?”

“Ever since you and his talent did,” Changbin snickers.

Heat rose to your face at your manager’s teasing. It was no secret to anyone who witnessed the movie’s shoot that you and Seungmin got extremely close after the fainting incident. You were sure that his efforts to stop the filming from continuing that day was also the talk of the town with the crew members. After all, who would go so far as to pay for rescheduling costs for their co-star? Sure, you and Seungmin were friends, but the two of you were barely talking in the first few days of the project. Anyone in their right mind would find his actions out of the blue—just like you did too.

Maybe it was just Seungmin’s way of making up for all the things you both went through. At first, it made you mad at how he flaunted his blatant disregard for the people affected by his decisions. The image of younger Seungmin came to mind, triggering the part of you that still held a slight resentment for what he did before. However, you found yourself slowly changing your mind as you two apologized to the crew members for the sudden decision, promising them swift and quality scenes the next day. As Seungmin walked you back to your inn’s room, you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of happiness bubble in your stomach at the thought of someone caring enough to do this for you.

You watched as the evident signs of a film crew appeared in the distance, right in front of an office building. The same tents you’ve come to familiarize yourself with stood strong, indicating that this was indeed filming the same movie you were working on. It was already early in the evening, so they should be wrapping up any time soon. Should you stop by and say hello?

“Do you want to stop by and visit? You don’t have any schedules left for the rest of the evening,” Changbin suggests, getting ready to park near the building if you give confirmation.

Maybe you could repay Seungmin for his support over the past few days by visiting him. You smile at the thought of catching him off-guard.

“Sure, why not?”

The summer air of June was starting to make itself present despite already cooling significantly due to the sun saying its goodbyes an hour or two ago. Bright lights scattered across the vast street, a mixture of car lights, building lights, and streetlights morphing into the familiar image of a city that everyone knew. You walked towards the set peacefully, effectively going under the radar with a black mask covering your face. It was just a few steps more until you reached the barricade, when a familiar voice called out your name.

“Y/N?” Eunha squinted her eyes to determine if it really was you, only for you to watch them widen in surprise when her conclusion was proven correct. “Oh, it is you!”

You waved as you got closer. “Hi, Eunha. I saw you guys while passing by and thought I’d give you a visit,” you say shyly. Eunha beamed at your explanation.

“That’s so sweet of you; you’re always welcomed here!” She gives you a hug, quickly separating to drag you over the barricade. “Come on, I’ll show you to the others.”

Witnessing the set as a visitor was interesting. Despite the multiple people that greeted you on the way, it still felt as if you were an outsider with a V.I.P. pass to tour the set. Normally, you would be somewhere near the center, where the main scene was going to be shot. So staying back and watching the other crew members do their own things on the outskirts of that area was a new experience. In a way, you felt giddy like a child on a field trip.

“Actress Y/N is here!”

Eunha’s ecstatic voice traveled throughout the main area of the set, catching the attention of the directors, who had a figure you knew all too well standing right beside them. His eyes snapped up from the monitor D.O.P. Bang was showing him, eyes searching around for yours. Once he caught sight of your face, his eyes lit up.

“Y/N?”

If anyone asks, you totally weren’t checking him out. The clean black office suit he was wearing was incredibly flattering on his features, along with the formal brush-up the hairstylists put his hair in. You had only seen him with his hair down for the past few days—with his character supposedly portraying the look of someone who was comfortably back home to rest. And while that Seungmin was also objectively handsome, the way his hair was framing his face right now was stirring something more inside of you. Swallowing the feeling away, you straightened yourself.

“Hi, Seungmin.” You laughed. “Missed me?”

Seungmin abandoned his post with the directors and sped towards you. “Why are you here? It’s getting late,” he says, worried. Seungmin lets his eyes wander behind you for a second before a frown finds its way to his face. “And where’s that damned manager of yours?” You sighed at his obvious complaint.

“When are you going to let down on Changbin?” You say, unamused. “I swear, he means well. I came from the company, so he’s guarding the car since it’s just on hazard.”

“Still—” Seungmin tries to argue, only to be cut off by you waving your finger like he had been a bad child.

“Stop that. We talked about your coddling.”

He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Maybe I’d stop once you actually learn how to take care of yourself.”

A series of claps interrupted the conversation you two were having. “Okay, break it up, lovebirds,” Minho says while inserting himself between you two. “It’s so nice to see you again, Actress Y/N. But we have a crew celebration dinner to attend, so I’ll borrow Seungmin first over here.”

Your co-star resists his manager, staying firmly on spot to prove a point. “Wait, I’ll walk her back to her car first.” Minho gave him an odd look.

“What do you mean walk her back?” He questions. “She’s attending. You just need to get changed out of that suit.” It was your turn to look confused.

“Huh?”

That was how you suddenly found yourself sitting at a long barbecue restaurant table with the other female crew members, silently listening to their energetic conversations while downing as much meat as you could. You didn’t know if this was a curse or a blessing in disguise, but you would surely regret it if you didn’t make the most of what was handed to you. Free food is still free food, even if it was a sponteneous invitation from the directors.

“I’m so happy we finished filming!” The woman assigned to your makeup, Yerin, said aloud. “Now it's those computer bastards’ turn to slave away.”

You couldn’t help but feel guilty for a portion of her hardships. “Once again, I apologize for all the trouble I caused you on set.” You slightly bowed while still sitting. “Hopefully, it will be better the next time we get to work together.” Yerin only waved off your apology.

“Oh, please—don’t be such a worrywart! Having you on set was a delight,” she squeals. “Plus, we had a blast seeing the development between you and Actor Kim Seungmin.” Eunha’s face quickly turned into one of horror.

“Yerin!”

You paled at her words. “I’m sorry, what?”

What did she mean by that? The inside of your mind turned into a battlefield at Yerin’s implication. Your eyes immediately turned to search for Changbin, feeling the need to inform him of a possible issue in the near future. In your experience in the industry, scandals always started like this. You didn’t want this to affect Seungmin’s career negatively, so it was always better to prepare early than late.

“Don’t listen to her, Y/N,” Eunha frantically says, trying to get a hold of her co-worker. “She’s just drunk.”

Yerin pushed her hands away, albeit weakly. “Eunha, stop being such a party pooper,” she whines. “We all know they’re dating now. Oh, our crew has tight lips, though! We won’t sell you guys or something.” That didn’t ease the panic that had already formed in your stomach.

“We’re not dating.”

You could only watch as Yerin’s showed genuine shock at your revelation. “Wait, for real?” She gasps. “That’s too bad. You two look great together!”

“Yerin, seriously!”

“Sorry, I’ll just go get some fresh air.” You excused yourself as politely as you could before standing up to head out the front door.

The now-cooled air pricked at your skin, making you breathe a bit more easily than in the humid interior of the restaurant. You lowered yourself to the narrow road’s curbside, choosing to sit down and admire the quiet neighborhood’s lights. It felt a lot better out here than inside, making you feel guilty for not enjoying the celebration more than you should have as one of the main characters for the project.

If you had refused, it would’ve been a bad look. You didn’t have a schedule for the night to use as a reason, and lying to the people who gave you the opportunity to work on your biggest project yet was out of the question. At the same time, you think of what you would’ve been doing instead if you had said no to their dinner offer. Laying down in your apartment while eating takeout wasn’t such a bad scene. The sliding of the aged wooden door brought you out of your thoughts.

“See? Just what I said,” a monotonous voice pointed out. “No self-preservation skills whatsoever.”

You rolled your eyes at the comment. “It’s just the outside of a family-owned barbecue establishment, Seungmin. There’s practically no one out here at this time.”

“Does that not make it worse?” He gave you a look of disapproval, crouching down slowly to join you on the curbside. “You have a knack for making people worry, do you?”

“Then stop worrying!” You snapped—his words reminding you of the situation you had just fled from to find peace.

Seungmin raised his hands in surrender. “Woah,” he exclaims. “Alright, something is clearly wrong. Talk to me.”

You could only turn away, feeling yourself unable to face him. It was an awkward subject to bring up, and you told yourself that Yerin had already promised that the crew was tight-lipped. Objectively, there was nothing more left for you to worry about. Subjectively, the implication bothered you. Seungmin furrowed his eyebrows at your reaction.

“Hey,” he calls out softly. “Did someone say something to you back there? You know I can beat them up, right?”

You grimaced at his attempts to comfort you. “You’re so violent,” you frowned. “What if it was a woman?”

“Oh, then I’m out of that. Sorry.”

“So full of shit, that’s what you are.”

Seungmin chuckled. “And that I am,” he replies, amused. “But seriously, I’m all ears if you want.”

A bitter taste announced its presence on your tongue, your mind forming a whirlpool of thoughts once again. “Why? Since we’re friends?” You spat out.

The space around you turned silent with Seungmin’s lack of response. You fought the urge to give him a discrete glance, just to see the damage you created. It took a few more seconds of the evening breeze being the only one talking between you two before Seungmin eventually spoke up.

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” he says in a low voice while running a hand through his hair to pull it back. His hairstyle from earlier was long gone, leaving you to wonder how he got rid of the hairspray so easily. “I actually don’t like that we’re friends.”

He watched as you deflated rapidly at his confession.

“Not in that way!” Seungmin splutters. “It’s just that I—ugh.” He brought up a palm to rub across his face.

Now, you were lost. The path of where the conversation was going became lost to you, making you stand in uncharted territory. Seungmin stayed silent for a few more seconds, trying to collect his thoughts. You let him have the time.

“You might curse at me for this or even put a distance between ourselves. But since this is our last day seeing each other on set until the movie’s release, I’ll take the chance now before I end up regretting I didn’t.”

“Seungmin, what—”

“The thought of staying just friends with you has been bothering me for a while now. It was like I was subjecting myself to my own personalized torture, where I couldn’t get away even if I tried. I’m still not sure what this entirely means for me—for us, but what I know is that platonic would never satisfy me at this rate.” He purses his lips, contemplating how to continue.

Eventually, Seungmin raised his head slightly to meet your eyes. “It’s odd. Admittedly, I’ve had my fair share of romantic relationships in the past, yet none of them could compare to what I was feeling now. At first, I thought it was just an obsession with you. Something that stemmed from my previous interest in you back at our senior level of academy—”

“You had a what?”

“I know,” he laughs humorlessly. “My friends used to tease me that I had a crush; that was why I was bothering you so much. Back then, I just brushed them off as jokes, telling them I only saw you as a rival. Well, look where that ended up.”

You were frozen in shock at his confession. “Seungmin,” you start. “I don’t know what to say.” He shakes his head.

“You don’t have to. Just let me have this moment to pour everything out,” he says. “Y/N, to put it into words, I feel at ease when I’m with you. At the same time, it always felt as if I was constantly worried about when it would end. That I would be left on my own again once you had finished your business with me. I tried to reason with myself, to put an acceptable distance between us in the case that what I had wasn’t the best for you. But I couldn’t do it, Y/N. Every time your voice entered my ears, it was like becoming a child. Unable to control their emotions and doing things without a second thought just because it felt like the right thing to do at the moment.” Seungmin looks up to the sky.

“That kiss we had—I think it was the happiest I’ve been in a while. It might have been just a job to you, because you could say it really was, but for me, it was finally a chance to express everything I had been holding back for the past few days. All I want you to remember is that nothing from that act was faked,” he exhales. “I really don’t think this is something you feel for a friend, so—”

“Let’s see where this takes us.”

“—What?”

“I’m not sure how you expect me to top what you just told me, but I’ll try with my own words.” You teased him with a genuine smile. “Seungmin, I feel strikingly similar to what you feel about me. Just maybe not as intensely yet.”

You let yourself move at the need to cup his face as he continues to look at you in shock. “I’m sure you already know that I spent quite a long time hating your guts, so the fact that I even started to feel an attraction towards you was shocking, to say the least. I was never one to believe in fictional tropes, despite my lifelong yearning to experience a love like that even once. As an actor, I’ve made a career out of acting those scenes out for people to see. But also as an actor, I knew more than anyone else how much real life would never be able to compare to the scripts I’ve seen brought to life on set. They were methodological, a feeling so carefully put together to achieve its maximum potential—real life isn’t like that.” You inhale deeply.

“Things happen for no reason, like they don’t for no reason either. And in a way, I felt both with you.” Your hands lowered themselves towards his hands to hold them tightly. “Enemies-to-lovers? It was laughable at first, but as the days went on, everything just fell into place as if it always belonged there. You feel like a child in front of me? I feel like I’ve never felt warmth in my entire life until you came along. When I first got out of the car yesterday, it was only then that I described urban life as cold and lonely in my entire life. I thought that maybe it was because I got too attached to the homey feel of the countryside that everything I’ve ever known somehow became foreign in a few days. But maybe it was just because of you.”

You found yourself giggling at the dumbfounded look he still had on his face, mind slow to take in what was happening in front of him. “What I’m saying is that I would love to see where this takes us. Right now, you can’t expect me to fall in love all of a sudden, especially considering our past. Though if you try hard enough, perhaps that might be just around the corner. What do you say?” Seungmin finally broke free from his trance, eyes watering.

“I’ll show you hard work that you’ve never seen before in your life.”

“And I believe it.” You pinch his cheek before standing up. “Now, let’s go back inside? The party is still ongoing.”

Seungmin clumsily follows, calling out just in time before you opened the door. “Wait—I still don’t have your number.” You gave him an astounded stare.

“Seriously?” You breathe out. “We went through all that, and we still don’t have each other’s numbers?”

Seungmin voices out his offense. “Well, I’m sorry that I was missing all my shots!”

“So, does that mean you’re gonna take a shot now, loverboy?”

“For you, yes.”

taglist 🔖— thank you for waiting ! 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @djeniryuu @lixxpix @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @feelikecinderella @abbiestearsricochet @heelovesmeknot @floating-moon-dust @yoontaethings @hwangism143 @jazziesssss @hwangflora @vixensss @yourlocalstayyxi @dollce-exe @bambispostsblog @authentic-65 @dandelions-143

[reyboris]

brainstorm (moon signs)

aries moon

be the first son (or daughter), fast feelings, fast way to sleep, fast way to eat, fast way to cry, fast way to love, fight with emotions, fight with mother, fight with family, be the first to express emotions, , fight with sleep habits, fight with food, be the first to feel something. need to do something, need to express, need to no silence, need to be direct

2. taurus moon

save feelings (like save money in the bank), feelings like a bank, slow way to feel, slow way to eat, slow way to sleep, slow way to love, slow way to forget. emotions like arte, emotions like aesthetic style, need art, need beauty, need silence, need zen moments. need eat in silence

3. gemini moon

value the sibling relations, need to talk, need to do jokes about feelings, need to avoid feelings, jokes are the safe place, fear to be vulnerable, fear to be direct, need to have two teams or more un sports (fifa, nfl, nba, etc.) need to share things, need to share opinions,

4. cancer moon

need to do gifts, need to study loyal in others, need to talk about loyal, want to be guessed, want to do personal routines, want to share routines with others, a strong maternal figure, a strong feminine clan, need the femenine energy, need the yin energy, want to share food

5. leo moon

need to break ice, need to break silence, need to express, need to express love, need to afirmation words, need to do gifts to their childhood frieds, want to talk in classrooms, want to play rol games, want to sport games, want to go to stadium and yell, want to live a pasion of love and also be dramatic in public, want to be direct with a cinema style, want the food challenges (who eat more),

6. virgo moon

want to do little changes, want to clean little spaces, want to handwrite, like to do letters, need to do something (but at difference of aries moon, need to do work in silence), like riddles, like puzzles, like ants, like freestyle, like words, need to use words in a right way, a talent for jokes, a talent for ironic humor

[goldenxshine]

☾⋆｡°✩ The Silent Gaze ☾⋆｡°✩

aegon ii targaryen x high-born!reader

summary: Shy and reserved, Lady Y/N secretly admires the confident Prince Aegon Targaryen from afar. At a feast, an accidental spill brings them together. From that moment, Aegon begins seeking her out, and an unexpected bond blossoms between them.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The grand hall of the Red Keep was alive with light and laughter. Torches lined the stone walls, casting a warm glow over the gathered nobles, knights, and courtiers.

Aegon Targaryen, eldest son of the king and heir to the Iron Throne, stood among his family’s closest allies. His silver hair, a mark of House Targaryen, glinted in the torchlight, and his easy smile made him the subject of many an admiring gaze. He laughed often, a sound that seemed to charm everyone in its reach, his presence drawing people to him.

Watching from the edge of the hall was Lady Y/N. She stood out not only because of her colorful attire - she always wore colorful dresses. But also for her quiet, almost invisible presence.

Unlike the other young ladies vying for the prince’s attention, Y/N was shy and preferred not to mingle. She knew that her social skills were somewhat lacking. Words often failed her in conversation, and she was quick to retreat into silence, hoping her quiet demeanor would shield her from the gaze of others.

But she found herself unable to keep her eyes off Aegon. She was fascinated by him - by his confidence, his humor, his personality, and the way he could make everyone around him feel noticed.

She often caught herself glancing his way, watching how he interacted with others, how he laughed. There was something comforting in just being near him, even if he didn’t know she existed.

Over time, her fascination had blossomed into a quiet, secret admiration. She never dared approach him, of course, knowing that someone like her, a shy, a bit socially awkward lady had no chance of catching his attention.

But she found solace in just observing him, letting her thoughts drift as she listened to his voice carrying across the hall. It was a voice she had come to know well, though he had never spoken a single word to her.

The feast tonight was in celebration. The Red Keep was filled with cheer, and goblets of wine flowed freely. Y/N sat at a table off to the side, a safe distance from the center of the revelry. Her friend, Lady Joanna, chattered beside her, but Y/N’s thoughts were elsewhere.

Unconsciously, her gaze drifted across the hall to where Aegon stood, deep in conversation with a group of knights.

Aegon seemed to feel her gaze; he paused mid-laugh and glanced around the room. Her heart jumped, and she quickly looked down, her cheeks turning red as she realized how close she had come to being caught.

“Y/N, are you even listening?” Joanna teased, nudging her friend.

“Of course, I was just… thinking,” Y/N murmured, her voice barely audible over the din.

Joanna gave her an exasperated look, following her gaze to the prince. “Oh, I see. The famous Prince Aegon. You should just go talk to him, you know?”

Y/N’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “No! I-I couldn’t. He… he doesn’t even know I exist.” Her voice trailed off as she toyed nervously with a bracelet on her left wrist.

“That’s only because you’re always hiding over here” Joanna replied. “You’re lovely, Y/N, and anyone can see you’re a lady of grace and intelligence. You just have to give him a chance to see it too.”

Y/N couldn’t imagine it. Her heart raced at the thought of speaking to him, of somehow capturing his attention. But she dismissed the thought. A prince and a girl like her? It was impossible.

The evening went on, and Y/N tried her best to enjoy the company at her table, though her gaze still drifted now and then to where Aegon mingled among the guests.

Finally, she reached for the pitcher of wine, hoping to calm her nerves a bit with a small sip. But as she poured, her hand trembled, and the cup tilted in her grip.

She heard someone approach the table and shifted to make way, but her movement was too sudden. Her hand caught on the pitcher, and before she realized it, her wine had splashed across the sleeve of the person beside her.

She gasped in horror, her heart sinking as she looked up to apologize - only to find herself staring straight into the eyes of Prince Aegon himself.

“Oh! I-I’m so sorry, Your Grace!” she stuttered, her face turning red as she reached instinctively for a cloth to dab at his sleeve. She felt clumsy and foolish, knowing that her worst fear had come to life. Of all the people she could have spilled wine on.

Aegon chuckled softly. “There’s no harm done, my lady. It seems the wine wanted to find its way to me tonight.”

Y/N froze, hardly daring to breathe as she looked up at him. His expression was surprisingly kind, his violet eyes sparkling with amusement. His voice a bit drunk. She was mesmerized, her embarrassment momentarily forgotten as she realized that he was looking at her - not just a glance, but with interest.

“Y/N,” the lady mumbled, hardly trusting herself to say it. “Lady Y/N.”

“A lovely name,” he replied. He tilted his head, studying her in a way that made her heart race. “I haven’t seen you much at these feasts, have I?”

“No,” she replied, feeling awkward under his gaze. “I… I tend to stay out of the way.” She looked down, unable to meet his eyes, her cheeks again flushing with color.

Aegon chuckled, a warm, genuine sound that seemed to ease her tension. “That’s a shame, Lady Y/N. You don’t seem like someone meant to stay hidden.”

He held her gaze, and for a moment, Elara felt something shift between them - a spark, faint but undeniable.

The moment was quick, but it lingered in her heart long after he had moved on. She replayed their conversation in her mind many times, feeling the weight of his words and the warmth of his a bit drunk gaze.

For the first time, a spark of hope flared in her heart. Perhaps Joanna had been right. Perhaps she wasn’t entirely invisible.

In the days that followed, Y/N found herself crossing paths with Aegon more often. Whether by chance or fate, she was never quite sure. She would catch him glancing her way during court gatherings, a small sly smile gracing his lips when he saw her. He seemed to have a way of finding her, even in a crowded hall, and each time their eyes met, Y/N felt her heart flutter.

One afternoon, she found herself in the castle’s gardens, enjoying the peace among the blooming roses. She hadn’t expected anyone to join her, so she was startled when a familiar voice broke the silence.

“Lady Y/N,” Aegon said. He sounded surprisingly sober, smiling as he approached. “May I join you?”

She nodded, trying to hide her surprise. She wasn’t sure why he had come, but she was grateful for his company.

They walked together in silence for a moment, neither quite sure what to say. Finally, Aegon spoke, his tone gentle. “You know, I often find myself in these gardens. They’re… peaceful.”

Y/N smiled softly. “Yes, they are. It’s a place where one can think without interruption.”

Aegon glanced at her. “You must have a great deal on your mind.”

She hesitated, uncertain how to respond. But something in his eyes encouraged her to speak. “It’s just… difficult, sometimes, to be in a place like this. Everyone here is so confident, so sure of themselves. I often feel like I don’t quite belong.”

Aegon looked at her with an understanding she hadn’t expected. “I think you belong more than you realize, Y/N.”

She looked up at him, her heart racing as she took in his words. She could feel the warmth of his gaze, the softness in his tone. For the first time, she allowed herself to believe that he might truly see her - not as just another courtier, but as someone worthy of his attention.

Over the following weeks, their paths continued to intertwine. Aegon sought her out at feasts, engaged her in conversation, and even invited her to accompany him on walks through the castle grounds. They talked about everything, and Y/N found herself opening up to him in ways she had never imagined.

Each time they spoke, she felt her feelings for him grow. She found herself captivated by his kindness, his intelligence, and the quiet strength he displayed. And slowly, she dared to hope that he felt the same.

One evening, as they strolled through the gardens, Aegon stopped and turned to her, his expression serious. “Y/N,” he began. “I… I’ve come to realize something.”

Her heart pounded as she waited for him to continue.

“I find myself thinking of you more often than anyone else,” he confessed, his gaze unwavering. “There’s something about you, something… genuine and beautiful, that I can’t ignore. You make me want to be a better man.”

Y/N felt warm as she listened to his words and that was the moment she realized, the prince felt the same way about her as she felt about him.