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joonsytip · 16 days ago

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Beyond the Transcripts || Wonwoo - Part 1

Pairings: Ceo!Wonwoo x Legal Head!Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, exes to co-parents to lovers au, second chances au.

Synopsis: Jeon Wonwoo, the calmest and untainted CEO to ever exist, gets his world shaken up when he finds you as the legal department head at his own company and your only registered family is a little guy who resembles him a bit too much.

Alternatively, you are smooth in onboarding Wonwoo into your son's life but problems arise when he tries to slide back into yours.

Warnings: Themes of co parenting, mentions of past difficult pregnancy, misogynistic slurs being used at workplace, wonwoo suffers from hyperventilation once, reader suffers from gastroenteritis, reader questions herself a lot, secret identity, workplace jargons.

Word Count: 11k

This fic is a part of THAT'S SHOWBIZ, BABY! Collab which also marks my first time participating in an event. Please support all the fics in the Collab!

Thanks again to @lovetaroandtaemin , Ally for coming up with this beautiful banner!

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist]

“What are you doing here alone, little guy?”

Wonwoo wasn't supposed to visit the headquarters today but a sudden rescheduling of an important meeting had him rushing in.

With the meeting ending sooner than expected, he decides to spend some time in the gaming zone, in hopes of not to be seen by any of the employees.

And to his surprise, it isn't an employee he bumps into, it is a little boy wearing specs bigger than the size of his face.

And he reminds Wonwoo so much of himself.

Wonwoo crouches down to his level and asks, “Are you lost? Who did you come here with?”

The boy looks at him wide eyed.

“I'll contact the security team.”, his secretary, Mr. Jung informs promptly.

Wonwoo smiles as he ruffles the boy’s hair. It's astonishing, the way he feels extremely inclined towards the tiny human.

“What's your name?”

Seeing the reluctance, he decides to approach the boy with something that might pique his interest.

“Do you like playing games?”

And that works, the boy nods politely as his eyes light up and Wonwoo fights off all his urges to squish his cheeks.

“Let's play until that uncle”, he points towards Mr. Jung, “finds your family or relatives to get you.”

It was supposed to be a normal busy day at the company. The edifice echoes constant clicking of shoes, hushed murmurs and flipping of pages.

It is all good so far until a phrase starts spreading floor by floor, gets passed up in the canteen, being told in the cubicles.

‘Did you see a kid roaming in the building? He looks like a little carbon copy of our CEO, Mr. Jeon.’

Your heart thumps as you overhear your colleagues from behind the closed bathroom door. It can't be, you say to yourself. You pull up your phone to read the clauses stated in the company portal under the tab ‘Policies’. You are not allowed to bring your family to the premises unless there's an occasion or you're explicitly required and instructed to do so, states the rules.

Relief floods your senses, there's no way your son would be brought and led inside the building on a regular workday, that too without your knowledge or consent.

The day goes on as you submerge yourself in preparing a lawsuit against an accuser for trying to damage the reputation of the company and sabotaging the career of an artist under it by staging false allegations.

It's lunchtime and you're still reviewing the drafts when there's a knock on the cabin door. Your gaze doesn't even lift from the screen when Mr. Joo enters. You suppress your urge to roll your eyes, preparing yourself to be bombed with another set of misogynistic slurs being inserted after each line the old man says.

You've been recruited as the head of the legal department for unarguably the best in the entertainment and music industry, The Carat Company, eight months ago. And Mr. Joo who was so sure about getting promoted as the head, the position he eyed for (more than worked for) couldn't quite accept an outsider that too a woman who's much younger than him to snatch something from him which was never his to begin with.

You wonder how long until your tolerance runs dry and the man in front gets slammed by a lawsuit which wouldn't only end up with him losing his job.

After a draining ten minutes conversation with Mr. Joo, you head towards the canteen. You find your group at the table, as always saving you a seat.

“My son has a fancy dress competition at his school today. He went dressed up as Harry Potter.”, Sunjae from the IT department recites, taking out his phone and showing the pictures his wife has sent him. Everyone at the table coos at the cuteness.

The chattering continues with you all catching up on work, workplace gossip and family tales.

“My daughter hasn't been feeling well, I'll be clocking out early today.”, Sooji from the marketing department says, concern evident in her voice. You all nod in unison, even urging her to leave post lunch.

A sad smile splits onto your lips. You too want to show how cute Wonjae looked when you dressed him up for the picnic you both went to last week. Everyone knows that you're a single mother and that you've a son. That he's an intelligent kid, that he's the bundle of joy that shines in your life. But that's all they get to know because you want to keep it lowkey.

How could you show him to them when he looks exactly like his father? That he's more like Wonwoo than Wonwoo himself. Same Wonwoo, who's also the CEO of the company you are working at. Records would give away that you both attended the same university, practically batchmates, shared lectures. You're afraid of any digital footprints either of you could have left behind. You can't afford to shake up any rumours.

Prior to applying for this job, you had taken time, there were months of mental preparation before you sent across the application. You had no choice but to succumb to this economy and walk into the lion’s den.

Now everyday before leaving the house, you pray not to cross paths with Wonwoo. You wonder if he'd even recognise you, you don't want him to but there's an ache in your heart at the thought of it.

“I saw a kid roaming in our block. You won't believe at a glance I thought he's the son of Mr. Jeon.”, Sunjae recollects.

“Mr. Jeon isn't even married.”, Yoongi, from finance deadpans, “Though you don't need to be married to make a–”

Collective shushes make him shut up.

It piques your interest, you wonder who it could be until your phone buzzes with a call from Jihoon, the HR Manager.

And you're panting, down on your knees as you see your son, Wonjae standing in front of you.

“How did you get here?”, you ask the little boy, who stares at you with glossy eyes and jutted lips.

“Are you angry at me, mama?”, he asks with a quiver in his voice and your heart sinks.

You give him soft kisses on his forehead, patting his arms gently, “Jae, I'm not angry, I just want to know what happened.”

“I brought him here, Y/N.”, Jeonghan steps up and says with his head hung low, “I'm sorry.”

You sigh and get up rubbing your temples.

“Jae said he wanted to see the place where you work. I thought I could give him a quick tour, as getting permission won't be a problem.”, Jeonghan continues, “I brought him here only after confirming that Wonwoo won't come to office today.”

“And you didn't think of informing me?”, you ask using your strict voice, causing Jeonghan to cower a bit, “How did he end up roaming alone around the entire office?”

“I got a call when I was walking him through the gaming zone and it went on for a while. When I hung up, he was gone. After searching for a bit, I had to run by the security division and found him through the CCTVs.”, Jeonghan grimaces, “I'm really sorry, Y/N.”

Jeonghan and you, go way back. He's a prominent and popular artist under the company but you were friends, well to be precise he was Wonwoo's friend and you knew Jeonghan through him during the university days. Then circumstances caused you to cut ties with him. It was two weeks ago when Jeonghan (another person you wanted to avoid) found you while taking the same elevator.

And he didn't let you slip away. You hated how persuasive he was because he made you spill your life out which you don't do with others. It enraged you that he didn't even have to be perceptive to know who Wonjae’s father was.

“The entire office is talking about him, Jeonghan.”, you whine out in defeat.

“And that's not the worst part, Y/N.”, Jihoon who was watching the scene, the one who called you, the only one in the office who without any prior connection to you knows about your situation, articulates, “I found Wonjae inside the CEO’s office. He was playing Jenga with Mr. Jeon. I took him by saying he's the son of one of the new crew members.”

The ground beneath you slips. Everyone watches you holding their breaths. Your mind runs miles, producing hundreds and thousands of thoughts. And this moment of truth makes you question everything.

Were you too numbed by the pain of your miseries that you neglected your son's wants? What if he wants his father in his life? What if he hates you for not letting him be with his father? What if–

A little pair of hands grabbing yours, breaks your reverie.

“Mama, I'm sorry.”, Wonjae cries, waddling a bit towards you, hugging your legs.

You collapse on the floor, embracing your son tighter, letting your own tears fall. You rarely cry, tears are a luxury, you think. But today, maybe the tears are falling because you can't bottle up anymore.

You pull away, wiping his tears, “Shhh. Don't cry, I'm not upset.”

The trembles subsides and Wonjae hugs you again, face planted against your chest. It's a habit, he hides his face and complains, “Papa bumped into me, I almost fell.”

You listen quietly, caressing his back.

“Then he took me to his office.”, you see him swaying his right hand in the air, “I told him my name and age but I didn't tell him about you, mama.”

Wonjae takes a lot after his father, in his appearance, stances and habits. He is calm, patient and has better intelligence and emotional quotient compared to the kids of this age. He knows about his father, he understands that there must be a reason behind his parents not living together unlike his friends’.

And most importantly, he trusts you. He knows whatever you do, it will be for his good, so he's compliant and obedient.

“Mama, can we go home?”, he says yawning, “I want to sleep.”

You understand, you get it. Wonjae has seen his father countless times on the screens and the covers but today was the first time he met him. Knowing your little guy, you know that he has used all of his brain capacities today in spending time with his father. So you'd let him rest today.

The conversation you want to have with him, has to be shelved tonight. It's something you'd have to thread carefully with Wonjae.

And after dinner when your son falls asleep, you stay wide awake.

Maybe, you can't avoid Wonwoo all your life. And maybe, you shouldn't avoid Wonwoo anymore.

You wonder if certain strings of incidents are bound to happen. It was last week only when your son met his father and today, it seems you'd be meeting your past lover.

A sudden allegation about copyrights being charged against the company, an emergency board meeting and now a briefing about the legal action items to dissolve the matter.

And being the legal head, you'd be leading the meeting. You look at your reflection in the mirror, chanting the same words in your mind. You understand the gravity of the situation, the urgency it holds because within the months of your joining, this is the first time you'll be directly reporting to the CEO.

You think Wonwoo wouldn't recognise you. A mere fling, that's what you were to him after all. And even if he does, it would be best in his interest to ignore.

Wonwoo enters the meeting room and you find your gaze fixated upon him and it brings back all the memories.

You don't meet his eyes when his secretary introduces you both but you do feel the touch of his hand lingering longer on yours.

The meeting goes on and you're proud of yourself for not becoming a mess under his gaze. There are no questions from him, he just listens to what you offer and you take it as a good sign.

“I'll prepare the draft version of the clauses and send across to you, Mr. Jung.”, you say standing up from your seat while sizing the papers laying on the table, “It shouldn't be a major threat because I have found some discrepancies in their lawsuit, they most probably want to stir up some buzz about themselves and make some money out of it.”

Mr. Jung nods, “I'll be expecting the final draft today, we can discuss it further.”

You take it as a sign to take a leave. You walk out of the meeting room only to slide into the next empty one you found because your legs almost give up. You take deep breaths, drink water and assure yourself that it's not a big deal. You're sure that Wonwoo would want no business with–

The door opens and you freeze.

It's Wonwoo who's standing on the threshold.

“Y/N”, he calls out your name with so much vulnerability that it makes your heart twist with an ache.

“I never thought I'd find you again.”, he says almost breathlessly.

“Sorry, I know seeing me again caused a lot of disappointment.”, you blurt out even before thinking and sigh, “I did apply here knowing that it's your company but be assured I didn't come here because of you.”

You could see his face drop and he's about to open his mouth to speak again but you beat him, saying, “Mr. Jeon, if you'd excuse me, I have a meeting in five minutes.”

Wonwoo says nothing but just as you cross him to walk out of the room, he grabs your arm.

And he looks at you holding an unspoken plea in his eyes, while yours glare back at him. Your eyes hold the same intensity, Wonwoo thinks.

“I don't think what you're doing is appropriate, Mr. Jeon.”, you articulate, trying to free your arm from his firm grip, “Let me go.”

While you successfully yank out your arm, his next words leave your head spinning.

“I'll let you go now but we'll be seeing each other often from now on, Y/N.”

And he is true to his words.

The employees are confused, the legal department is in uproar. Why is the CEO visiting their department every other day?

“Y/N, is there something serious going on within your department?”, Yoongi asks oneday, during lunch, “I thought the copyright allegation lawsuit was resolved.”

You feel like banging your head on the very first surface you lay your eyes on. Wonwoo has been trying to talk to you and honestly if he wanted he could summon you anytime and you would have no other choice but to oblige. But you don't get what he's trying to establish by making trips throughout the office, especially the legal department.

“There are some ongoing issues which might escalate if not taken care of right now, so we're having rounds of discussion.”, you lie through your teeth, hoping for Yoongi to believe it.

Yoongi nods but he in fact does not believe it. Because you may not be aware, but he is, aware of the fact that you have a son, about whom when asked you always dodge the topic. He has seen Wonjae one night walking down the streets of the market with you. It wasn't something very peculiar until he found out that you have studied at the same university as Wonwoo, the graduation year matching as well. He didn't make his presence known, he just watched. He has a hunch that there's a past that you've been trying to bury so earnestly. That's why he doesn't pry.

Work is done for the day and you drive to your favourite spot, in hopes of getting a breather, a break from all the chaos.

“Sorry to interrupt your alone time.”, you hear a very familiar voice and smile instantly.

“You're not interrupting anything if we had decided to meet here, Chanie.”

Chan walks upto beside and leans against the railing, watching the city lights blaze underneath.

“How's everything going?”

“I don't know, but one thing for sure, this is something I don't want to do at all.”, he answers with a tinge of agony in his voice.

Lee Chan is the CEO of Sebong Corp., the company known to be a rival of The carat company. He is definitely someone who shouldn't have anything to do with you but you both go way long back. When he was still a student and you were just a law major who was working multiple part times while searching for a job.

You took pity on a student who always looked lost and saved him the food packets hiding from your boss only to give it to him when he made a routine tour to the store.

And that student almost cried out of gratitude whenever the pregnant worker sneaked him food late at night.

It goes on for a few months, until Chan reveals that he's actually a chaebol and in line to inherit the family business.

You were rendered speechless. But Chan was annoyingly sticky, he appeared whenever you worked begging for forgiveness until you gave in.

You wonder if you attract these kinda people.

Apart from Mina, he's the one who stayed by your side, always offering help if you ever needed and spoiling Wonjae whenever you would let him.

You are proud of how Chan is handling everything and still staying rooted to the ground.

“Next time, let me take you and Jae to a nice restaurant to eat.”, he suggests but frowns the next moment, “I doubt he'd even remember his one and only favourite uncle, it's been so long since we met.”

“True, why don't you come home over this weekend? I'll make you your favourite dishes.”

“Deal done.”, he beams and you turn to him and open your arms.

He instantly hugs you and you pat his back, “I'm so proud of you, Chanie. You're doing so well.”

He sighs, all the tension leaving his body, “Needed to hear this today, thanks.”

Not every bond has to be blood related, some go beyond everything.

“What's going on, Mr. Jeon?”, Mr. Jung asks as he notices Wonwoo spacing out again.

“You can drop the honorifics, Uncle.”, Wonwoo says in a lite tone. He slumps against the chair, his eyes fixating against the white wall of the ceiling, “It's her, Uncle. I had no idea she was working here.”

Mr. Jung’s expression solemns, “It explains your erratic behaviour. Did you get a chance to talk to her? Instead of going around the office, you could just summon her.”

“I have a lot to tell her, but where do I start?”, Wonwoo grimaces, “Wouldn't it be an abuse of authority to summon her for any personal agenda.”

Mr. Jung just nods.

“I have so much to say but at the same time I don't have any words that I could give out.”, He rubs his eyes, they're glistening, “Maybe, I just want to know how she has been because I am a selfish prick who needs to hear that the girl he dumped back then is unscathed so that he can be guilt ridden.”

He lets out a chuckle, “Honestly, I am just parading around the legal department because I get to see her, hear her voice and sometimes we even have a conversation because of work.”

“You say that you don't regret the choices you made. It certainly doesn't seem so.”

Wonwoo doesn't reply, he doesn't have an answer. He was doing just fine, living his life, doing his work diligently non stop for years. So what changes now?

It's late in the evening as the office empties out. There's a cramping pain in your stomach and you curse out when you discover that you've forgotten the medicines at home. You feel nauseous, there's a throbbing ache in your head and it intensifies everytime you look at the long chains of emails that sit inside the folders, all labelled with high importance and needing to be made some progress today.

You walk out of your cabin and enter the cafeteria to get some cookies as you call your son to inform him that you'll be going home late tonight. You tell him to do his homework and heat the food before eating. You also tell him to not wait for you and go to bed.

“Check the monitor first. Don't open the door to strangers.”, you remind him, “I love you, Bye.”

You hang up and get the fright of your life when you see Wonwoo standing beside you.

“Who was it?”, Wonwoo asks, his brows raised and arms crossed over his chest.

“W-What are you doing here?”, you ask panicked as you try to peep behind him, hoping no one sees the two of you.

“Let’s go to your cabin, I need to talk to you.”, he says and waits for your rejection because he knows there's no way you're willing to talk to him.

But you agree and now you're both inside your cabin, standing facing each other.

“What do you want?”, your voice comes out strained as you clutch your stomach, supporting yourself against the table.

“Are you okay?”, Wonwoo asks, concerned, “You're sweating and–”

“What did you want to talk about?”, you cut him off, “It’s surprising because I thought we're done for this lifetime. You made it pretty clear that time.”

Wonwoo winces at your verbal jab.

“And if it's something trivial, if you're trying to apologize or bring up our past then don't. I have moved past everything and I'm quite content in my life now, Mr. Jeon.”, you try to speak, emphasizing each word but they come out in ragged breaths.

The more Wonwoo observes you, the more he gets worried, he picks up the water bottle from the table and uncaps it to hand it to you, urging you to sit down.

There's a sharp sting in your stomach and you crouch down. When your vision fades you manage to utter, “M-Mr. Jeon, Amaris Hospital...”

And that's what Wonwoo hears before he watches your body go limp as you collapse on the floor.

Wonwoo watches your unconscious figure laying on the hospital bed as he stands outside the VVIP ward. His mind races miles after the conversation he had with the doctor.

He gets to know that you've been suffering from severe gastroenteritis which you've acquired post pregnancy. He is baffled, his mind can't comprehend and in the heat of the moment he makes an unethical request to have your medical records, the request which he takes back immediately, apologizing.

Mr. Jung rushes to the hospital with the information Wonwoo has asked him to get.

“Y/N, has only one person registered as her family in the records.”, he informs, “It's her son. She has her friend as an emergency contact and I've called her. She should be here anytime.”

What comes as a greater shock to Wonwoo after sometime is seeing Jeonghan rushing towards the ward, holding hands with a little boy whom even though he has seen only ones but remembers vividly.

“How is Y/N, Wonu?”, Jeonghan asks as he pants.

Wonwoo is frozen, he's not present at the moment. There are gears running in his head, there's vigorous thumping in his heart.

“She's fine now. The doctor said she'd be discharged tomorrow. She'll wake up once the effects of sedation wears off.”, Mr. Jung answers.

“Thanks for admitting her. I'm Mina.”, your friend says.

Jeonghan picks up Wonjae in his arms, they both look at your sleeping form from outside the ward.

“Mama will be okay right uncle Jeonghan?”, Wonjae asks and Jeonghan and Mina assure him immediately.

“Wonjae… Jeon Wonjae….”

All heads turn as Wonwoo keeps on mumbling the name. Every dot connects. Wonjae carries his surname, he looks like him and he's seven years old. The last time he saw you, before he left you, was eight years ago.

He walks towards Wonjae as Jeonghan lets him down.

“He is mine, isn't he?”, Wonwoo asks Jeonghan before crouching down in front of him.

Jeonghan stays quiet, so does Mina when Wonwoo looks at her.

And when he finally locks his gaze on his son, he breaks down in tears. He sobs hugging him.

Wonjae, seeing his father, cries as well.

“Don't cry, Papa.”, he says as his tiny hands try to wipe the tears from his father's face. And the more Wonwoo sees him, hears him call him as father, the more his sobs turn into wails.

Your body feels heavy, your head feels weighed. There are some whispers that reach your ears but you can't quite make sense out of it. Slowly opening your eyes, you see the white ceilings, the monitor beeping and then Wonwoo.

And by the demeanor, you guess that he has figured out something.

“Mr. Jeon...”

Wonwoo perks up at your voice and when your gazes meet, you see a fresh bout of tear pooling in his eyes.

And all he says is, “We have a son, Y/N. Wonjae is mine, he's ours…”

You inhale shakily. Out of all the possible ways you imagined that he'd react when he finds out about Wonjae, this isn't the one you thought of. Why does the CEO of the most successful entertainment company seem in distraught? Definitely, he's unpredictable and you're scared of what's to come next.

You crane your neck to look at Wonwoo, “Mr. Jeon, I'd like to discuss some things with you, could you please make some time out of your schedule for me?”

Wonwoo feels the distance between you two. It twinges, it gnaws at him.

“Get rest first. I have sent Wonjae with Jeonghan, he'll be staying at his house. Mina is still here and we'll talk once you get better.”, Wonwoo assures you, “You can find me anytime.”

You close your eyes, mind pondering about what's to come.

Your fingers hover against the door. You could feel the weight of the documents clouding over the entire span of you've spent to raise your son.

On the opposite side, behind the closed doors, waiting for you, is the man you once loved. The father of the child you birthed seven years ago. The chief executive officer of the company you're currently working at.

Also the man, who had broken your heart, had left you alone to pick up the pieces on your own.

You knew that this day would come. You have spent years preparing to face him one day. Over the years you've seen this face everywhere, be it on magazines or billboards or be it glorified on media but why is your chest caving in as you stand on the threshold, a moment away to see him again?

Taking a deep breath, you pitch your face into the most neutral expression you could bear. You won't deter, you won't step back.

Your knuckles give two swift knocks on the door and the secretary opens it for you, letting you in and stepping out once you enter.

At the sound of the door closing, your gaze lifts.

Wonwoo walks towards you, in large but steady strides, just as you have remembered. He stands in front of you, at a distance. Your gazes meet and the time stops.

Because this time unlike all the previous encounters, you are not avoiding him. This time you take time to observe him.

Wonwoo hasn't changed much, his eyes hold the same depth. He, you assume, still likes his hair side parted with locks clipped so they don't fall on his face. The scent of the same perfume lingers in the air, the one which he had always claimed as his signature. The frame of his glasses aren't geometric anymore, he goes with pilot nowadays.

And before your mind could trace back on the memory lane deeper, you decide to slip back into the momentum.

“Mr. Jeon”, you bow to him, giving a small smile. Your heart beats erratically, as you continue to speak, “You must be busy so I won't take much of your time.”

The title you call him by is foreign to Wonwoo's ear. It has been bothering him a lot. It always used to be strings of sickly sweet nicknames.

He watches the changes time has brought upon you. You no longer seem like the carefree law major from back then. You no longer are the girl who'd cry over smallest things, speak the first thought that came to your mind.

While Wonwoo loses touch with the current predicament, you line up several documents on his desk in specific order.

It's exacting because you used to know him so well, maybe even know if he hasn't emerged entirely as a different person. You see the way his eyes are on you but the dilated pupils give away the fact that he's running miles in his head.

So you wait, wait for him to come back to the present, to this moment.

And he does, a few minutes later. You can tell it by the way his gaze locks into yours right away, his lips curling down in slightest.

“How have you been, Y/N?”

His voice strikes a chord in your heart, before it reaches your ear. The voice that you used to love so much, the voice that sung you to sleep on restless nights, the same voice which when called your name, it summoned your soul.

Years of preparation goes down in the trench as you're about to break down at the first set of words you hear from him today.

But you can't, you're not the same vulnerable Y/N, who used to strip bare in front of her lover.

“I think we have more important matters to discuss, Mr. Jeon.”, you speak through your gritted teeth.

“But you promised you'd answer all my questions.”, Wonwoo reminds you calmly.

“And this is what you want to know?”

“Out of all things, first and foremost, yes this is what I want to know.”

You find it ironic, trapped in by his words, you answer truthfully, “I just can't sum up everything but I have been holding it in, thanks to Wonjae.”

Wonwoo perks at the mention of your son's name, well his as well.

“The first document is about me as Wonjae’s legal guardian, consenting to you conducting a DNA test.”, your gaze is gentle as you point at the bunched papers, “I don't want any questions, any fingers raised at my son in future.”

“But I don't–”

“I request you to conduct one.”

Your sharp tone shuts up Wonwoo completely, though not willing, he nods.

His gaze sweeps across the rest of the document which promotes him to ask, “What are the rest of these documents for?"

Your eyes turn somber. You've studied law, practised it. You know all the nooks and crannies and you're a mother who is raising her son against all odds.

“The second document is a contract that states that if you don't want to be associated with Wonjae then the fact that he’s your son will be concealed and never brought up by me. If I ever do so”, you turn the pages and show him the space left blank, “You can fill up the breach statement and penalties in this section, I have left it blank.”

Wonwoo gapes at you in disbelief, “What do you think you're trying to pull here?”, he speaks in a low tone but you can hear the agitation ringing in it, “What do you think of me, Y/N?”

You don't deem it necessary to answer his questions and proceed further to explain the contents of the last document.

“If you have any concerns about me working in your company and see me as a threat or identify me as someone who has the potential of stirring up trouble then you can ask me to resign but under the conditions that I work here until I find another job.”, you attitude has shimmered down from being hyper to nonchalant, now that you have done your part.

Wonwoo observes you, in disbelief and at himself in distaste because he's the reason behind the version you are currently showcasing.

“Also, I have prepared the clauses for custody just in case you're willing to share responsibilities in future. I'll bring it to you if you decide to be a part of Wonjae's life.”

You say terms, speak things all in legal language and Wonwoo just listens.

“I would have suggested you to run these documents by your legal team to cite any negotiations or catch any flaws but unfortunately, it would mean that I'd be the person you'll need to work with.”, you smile sardonically, “So it would be better if you contact someone who's not affiliated to this company.”

He wonders if things would have been different if he stayed and in the midst of the storm that whirlwinds in his head, he asks, “Why didn't you tell me that you were pregnant?”

What a simple question to ask. Are all questions meant to have an answer?

“Would you have stayed?”

Silence falls upon.

You give him a knowing smile, “Just when you were leaving, I asked you something, do you remember?”

Yes, he remembers, all of it. The way you had chased him to the station, your face wet, eyes bloodshot from crying. The way you just stood in front of him, mumbling the last question you had as the train entered the platform.

“What if I have something important to tell you? Would it make you stay?”

“There’s nothing left to salvage. Nothing's gonna stop me from leaving. This is the end for us.”

It answers his previous question. It makes sense now, he didn't only leave you, he had abandoned his unborn child as well.

Some fences can't be mended, some bridges can't be cemented, just like this relationship, which once bloomed beautifully, is now wilted.

“Do you have anything else to ask, Mr. Jeon? If not I'll be taking my leave.”, you say arranging all the documents, “I'll leave the documents here with you. We can meet once you have gone through these and made a decision.”

Wonwoo observes you, he can't even fathom the hurt you've gone through. He knows he's the reason for your suffering, he's grateful that you've been raising his son with so much love.

“I'll get back to you, Y/N.”

That's all he says and expects you to leave but what you do next tears him apart.

You are kneeling down, in front of him. Your head hangs low as you plead, your voice quivering, “Mr. Jeon, you can have everything you want at your feet but Wonjae is the only one I have. You have the power, money and capability to do anything. So I beg you, please don't take my son away from me, he's the sole reason I'm living this life.”

Wonwoo fists his hands, he feels insulted. How low do you think of him? But again, is it your fault that you don't trust him, because if it was in the past you used to trust him more than yourself.

He bends and holds your shoulder firmly as he helps you get on your feet.

“I'd rather perish than to do something like that to you or our son.”, Wonwoo grabs your chin to make you look at him, “We made him with love, Y/N.”

A tear falls down your eye, “Did you ever love me?”

His hands leave you, he looks at you with dejection.

“Love is built on trust but you never trusted me. Not enough to let me know your actual identity. You hid the fact that you are an heir to the Jeon estate. I get it, you didn't slip initially but we dated for 4 years. You even knew about my cousin’s best friend but I didn't even know about your closest family.”

You let out a bitter chuckle, “It's all in the past now. Let's focus on Wonjae, if you want to be a part of his life.”

“I want to be a good father to him.”, Wonwoo says sincerely, “Help me, Y/N, please.”

You nod while wiping your tears, “Jae is just like you. It's like my genes didn't even try.”, you breathe out a smile, “He likes you, I can see the way he lights up when he sees you on the Tv or covers. Please don't disappoint him, please be there for him. If you're going to do it, please do it right.”

And Wonwoo is determined.

“I already got your number from Jeonghan, I'll call you later.”, you tell him, “And if you want to meet Jae, come over this weekend, I'll text you my address.”

“Thanks, Y/N.”

“You're welcome.”

It's going well, though Wonjae was hesitant initially, he is delighted to have his father in his life which makes you wonder if all these years you have been doing things right. You'd admit that you're jealous seeing the father-son duo because they blend in so well, it's like they've never been apart. But you're happy for Wonjae.

“Don't spoil him too much.”, comes your warning one day when you spot Wonwoo setting up the new gaming devices in your son’s room, which you recollect your son has been wanting for long.

“I'll keep it in check.”, Wonwoo answers, “But let me make up at least a little for the lost time.”

Your heart swells when you enter the room an hour later only to see your son perched on his father's lap, both of them equally invested in the game, same face, same expression and same mind.

“He goes to karate classes every friday.”, you say rummaging through the drawers one evening and Wonwoo adds it as a reminder in his calendar.

“He goes to painting class on Tuesdays and his music classes are on Wednesday and Saturday. He learns to swim on Mondays and he rests on Thursdays. Sundays are reserved for his weekly shenanigans, he suggests random activity and we do it throughout the day.”

Wonwoo is half amused, half concerned and you see it on his face vividly.

“And no he doesn't get tired, it's not too much for him. It's his idea to explore all the fields and go ahead with the ones he finds interesting. The list of curricular activities was way long, we have trimmed it down to these and it may shorten further.”, you explain in a breath and hand him the timetable you finally found after almost turning the room upside down.

“He may look like me but he's just like you, Y/N.”, Wonwoo smiles looking at the paper in his hand, “You used to be like this.”

Used to be, not anymore, you think. The past you were totally a different person, she wouldn't even recognise the present you, you're so different now.

Wonwoo lays the paper flat on the table as he meticulously inputs each activity in his calendar. You watch him in silence, watch the man you had once wanted to spend your entire life with.

“Are you planning to let everyone know about Wonjae?”, you ask Wonwoo, later that night anxiously after he puts your son to sleep.

It had been gnawing at you relentlessly. Wonwoo notices the nervousness, he walks into the kitchen and makes you a cup of coffee.

“You’re the favourite celebrity of the nation, a long line of influential people are waiting to get their daughter married to you and if you suddenly declare that you have a child…”, you look at him with glassy eyes, “I'm afraid that people will target Jae. I don't care if I am subjected to any kind of ridicule or threat–”

“Y/N, calm down.”, he says calmly, “For now I have decided it to be not known. I have tightened the security and been careful but”, he assures you, “if it gets known I'll protect you both.”

“You don't have to protect me, Mr. Jeon.”, your voice drops an octave, a sign of your defensiveness, “Just take care of Jae.”

“I'm sorry, Y/N.”, he just says it, for the present, for the past, “I had a reason to leave though it wouldn't justify what I did. I'm really sorry.”

“Jae has fallen asleep, I think you should leave now.”, you get up from where you're sitting, “You're my employer and let's try to stick to the dynamics.”

Wonwoo watches quietly as you retreat back to your room. You have changed, a lot, thanks to him.

“Won! You won't believe what happened.”, you jump onto his lap as soon as you spot him sitting on the sofa.

Wonwoo smiles, ruffling your hair as he secures his arms around your waist, “What happened, love?”

You press a quick kiss to his lips, smiling, “While returning back from the University I saw an old man selling some stuff at a very cheap price. And I was shocked when I saw the limited edition cassettes, you know the ones I've been collecting recently. I bought all of them! My collection is complete!”

“Woah, I'm so proud of you.”, Wonwoo kisses the side of your head.

“I got you a metal pick, because you keep losing them. Also, I got us matching rings!”

Wonwoo looks at you in awe as you put the ring on his pinky.

He puts his hand over the suit pocket and feels the ring as he presses over it through the layers of fabrics. A look at the closed door and he's out the next moment.

“I am guessing the matters are resolved now.”, Yoongi says one day during lunchtime, “Mr. Ceo is not seen as much around the office nowadays.”

“Yes, it is resolved.”, you say monotonously.

Yoongi hums, “Good then. Let me know if you need my help for anything.”

You squint your eyes, smiling, “You don't know shit about law, Yoongi.”

“Oh but I do know about a thing or two outside law, Y/N.”

“You have a misconception about yourself, I see.”, you chuckle when Yoongi glares at you.

And that glare turns into a fond smile while you eat off his ears about a character of the show you don't like.

Wonwoo, who happens to pass by the area, doesn't quite like the way whoever the guy sitting beside you is looking at you. That afternoon, he didn't have lunch, apparently due to loss of appetite.

He has been trying to make space for himself in your life but you're rigid. He shudders at the thought of your angry face whenever he subtly tries to bounce off the wall you've built around yourself. You only pay him mind when you discuss about Wonjae with him, otherwise he's just sidelined.

He has zero interest in work today, his mind keeps playing the incidents from the previous night.

He was supposed to drop by your apartment as usual to spend some time with Jae and you.

He punches the passcode and is met by a startled you.

“Jae would be staying at Mina’s tonight, I had already sent you a text regarding this.”, you say and wait. Wait for him to leave.

“Oh sorry, I didn't get a chance to check my phone.”

Lies. Wonwoo is at your place today with just one motive, to talk to you.

There's a moment of silence and you're just about to show him the way out, he asks, “Can we talk?”

“We don't have anything to talk about, Mr. Jeon–”

“Stop calling me that!”, he hisses and closes the distance between the two of you, “Call me Wonu, Won, Woni anything, please.”

You look at him incredulously, “But that's not what I should be calling my employer, isn't it?”

“I'm not just your employer.”, his voice drops an octave, “I was your lover, I am the father of your child.”

“What are you doing?”, you ask wearily when he grabs your arm and pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you.

He rests his forehead against you, closing his eyes, “Please, let me hold you for a moment.”

You are confused, you don't want yourself anywhere near him but your body betrays you, it seeks comfort into the embrace of your past lover, it's just like returning to an old habit.

“I never stopped loving you, Y/N.”, he confesses, opening his eyes to see your wide ones, “I did leave you at my own will but it wasn't because I fell out of love.”

“It doesn't matter anymore.”, you say trying to push him away but his grip is too strong, “All I wanted was a closure when you left but you didn't even consider me worthy of that. I didn't know who you actually were, didn't get the reason behind your abrupt decision of breaking up and now you decide you wanna do the truth drop just because we have a son.”, you shake your head, “That's not how it works. I know I'm just a baggage that comes with Jae, I know my place, you had made it clear then, so you don't have to do all of this.”

He frees you, his eyes holding depths of oceans before retreating to stand by the window, facing away from you.

“I am the youngest within the Jeon household. I was loved, always getting what I wanted and never put on the pedestal because I have an older brother. I was always used to getting away with whatever, while he was dumped with all the expectations, afterall he was supposed to take over the Jeon empire.”

There's a pause before he continues, “He looked like he belonged to the limelight while I was the opposite, always preferred to be in the shadows. It was a blessing, to have a big brother like him, to have such loving parents who never tried to load their expectations on me. I expressed my desire to get enrolled into the University under the plain disguise and pursue a degree I wanted.”

He turns to look at you, “That's when I met you and we fell in love. I was so happy, happiest I'd say because you saw me for me, I was grateful that you made me a part of your life but it kept bugging me that I was hiding my identity.”, his voice cracks, “I was afraid, what if after learning everything, you make a decision to leave me? But that's when the incident happened.”

“My brother finally snapped. He couldn't take the pressure, couldn't bear the heaviness of the expectations anymore so he tried to step down. But my parents wouldn't let him, for them their pride mattered the most. They couldn't just let people think that they raised a failure in the Jeon household.”

You listen silently.

“My brother left. He disappeared without any trace, no goodbyes, nothing. I was heartbroken, my parents were inconsolable. Until a few months passed and they recovered. And that's the first time I got to witness the true nature of my parents. They only saw me as a replacement to my brother. It was so evident, I was thrusted into grooming sessions to be the acting director. It was so sudden, it felt nauseous because I have always seen myself out of those scenes, to me they were for my brother. No one cared, the expectations were projected onto me and that's when I started missing the classes and I got to see you less. My mind started to shift, it was messed up and after pondering for weeks, I chose to be an obedient child to my parents and leave behind everything I was associated with, including you.”, he looks at you apologetically, “I'm sorry.”

“I can't forgive you.”, comes your immediate and stern reply, “I hope you realise that out of all the things you could have done, you decided to abandon me.”

Wonwoo freezes at your words, the truth hits him in the gut.

“You didn't even seek for me for all these years.”, your voice cracks with the hurt, “You know about Jae because I decided it to be known. So don't you dare come here pretending like a good person as the world believes you to be. I know who you are, what you are.”

“You're right.”, Wonwoo says, more to himself, “I am really an awful person.”

And then he leaves and doesn't come back for days until your son calls him just because he misses his father.

The weekend follows and the doorbell rings. Before you could reach, you see your son jumping towards the door, his smile widening when he sees his father on the monitor.

It's a mundane Saturday, except you're building a fort in the living room with your son and Wonwoo. It's simple actually, you've built it for Wonjae many times but today something is hindering it and you figure out that the reason is Wonwoo.

He's absolutely clueless, he's not helping, he rather needs help.

“Papa, you are so bad at it.”, Wonjae calls him out and you bite your lips to suppress the laugh bubbling in your throat.

Wonwoo with a very childish frown on his face, refutes the claim, “I am just giving you both a chance to showcase your skills.”

You roll your eyes, focusing on assembling the fort while the two guys bicker on the backdrop.

“Mama, save me!”

You turn back to see Wonjae tackled on the ground as Wonwoo tickles him. A laugh bubbles out of your throat, you feel good in the moment. After all, this was something you've always wanted, to get married and start a family with the man you once loved so much.

“Woni, let's get married.”, you declare, out of nowhere, “I want to marry you immediately.”

Wonwoo laughs, “You speak out the very first thought that comes to your mind.”, he caresses your cheeks fondly, “Let’s get married once we settle in our careers.”

“You don't have to work, I'll take care of you.”, you say sincerely, “Just be mine, please.”

“That's not what you said last time, as far as I can recollect.”, Wonwoo squints his eyes at you, “You said that you don't want to work, you just want to be my wife, the mother to my kids.”

“And I meant it!”, you cross your heart.

“Which one did you mean? Because both are pretty contradictory to me.”

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”, you admit, a soft smile spreading on your lips.

And in the moment, Wonwoo falls in love with you all over again. He leans in, eyes never leaving yours as he closes the gap between you two.

The phone rings and you both groan.

“It's my dad, let me take this one.”, you say, pulling back as you check the caller Id.

He nods but does exactly the opposite by pulling you by your neck and planting his lips on yours for a kiss that takes your breath away.

The ringing of the phone eventually stops but Wonwoo doesn't.

A soft sigh escapes from within you and your mood shifts. There's no point in dwelling in the past now.

Yoongi paces nervously as he awaits you. A sudden click and he sees you entering through the door and from behind you, emerges Jihoon.

Yoongi pulls you aside and whispers, “What's the HR guy doing here, Y/N?”

“He's trustable.”, you assure him and introduce them to each other.

Yoongi exhales sharply, he sweeps a glance at the two of you and speaks, “I think there may be some fund embezzlement going on and for long.”, he takes out his phone and shows some the snaps he has taken, “While I was accessing some documents for the recent staffing activities, I came across this.”

“How did you get access to this? Shouldn't this be requiring credentials of Senior Managers?”, Jihoon asks, eyeing Yoongi suspiciously.

Yoongi scoffs and looks at you, “Look at your trustable guy, he's doubting me.”

You glare at Jihoon and then look back at Yoongi, “Don't mind him, Yoongi, tell us the entire thing.”

He nods, “So the exchange receipts you're seeing, on the surface they're all going to different accounts but when I traced back the companies turned out to be paper companies. Someone has to be in the directorial position to pull this without getting noticed. I had even dropped an anonymous tip to the auditor's office but surprisingly or not, no action was taken.”

“This is concerning.”, Jihoon ponders over, “Does anyone else know about this?”

“I'm not aware.”, Yoongi answers truthfully, “This shouldn't be of my concern but I can't get it out of my head and I think if I try to poke again they'll be on my tail.”

“We definitely need someone from the Audit team on our side, someone who's trustworthy and holds power.”, you say, “But it doesn't seem plausible.”

“I'll see what I can do.”, you assure both of them, “Yoongi, please send those evidences and Jihoon, could you check if you could link any of these account owners to anyone from the company?”

While you walk out of the room with a lot on your mind, you get a call from your son and he has some requests.

Wonwoo punches the code hurriedly as his heart races after getting a sketchy text from his son. He manages to enter your apartment only to find it pitch black and eerily silent.

“Y/N? Jae?”, he calls out through the passage and he keeps calling as he makes his way to the hallway.

Suddenly the light goes on, the whistles blow and confetti flies.

Wonwoo stands wide eyed, as he sees the banner reading a ‘Happy Father's Day!’ and looks at Jae holding a cake smiling while you, Jeonghan and Mina stand behind him each wearing a party hat and funny accessories.

You observe quietly, the way your son is beaming in happiness when his father appreciates and voices out all the praises on receiving the gifts.

You're proud of your son, he's empathetic, he's kind and he's all you could ever want. When he called you at work, which was rare, with a hesitant voice and a wish to celebrate the day because he recently learnt that his father's birthday had already passed, you agreed immediately, because he loves to celebrate special days.

You're setting the table, faint sounds of laughter reaching your ears.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

You look up to see Wonwoo looming over your frame.

“It was all Jae’s idea, you should be thanking your son.”, you say light heartedly, “I didn't even remember.”

Wonwoo looks at you surprised, “You forgot? Didn't uncle always nag when you don't wish him? You should give him a call–”

He halts when he sees you go stiff.

“Is everything alright, Y/N?”, Wonwoo asks, now alarmed, “Are your parents fine?”

“They should be.”, you answer vaguely, before busying yourself back on plating the food, “You should go back, Jae must be looking for you.”

The dinner is going well with Wonwoo mostly talking with Jae and Jeonghan while Mina chimes in only when she feels like it.

Your mood has dampened ever since Wonwoo has brought up your father so you're just present, not involved in whatever is being discussed.

When Jae hops off to take a washroom break, Jeonghan takes the chance to ask you, “Are you seeing someone, Y/N.”

You shake your head, “There's a lot on my plate already and I'm content with Jae in my life.”

Though it is an open secret, Wonwoo feels relief flood in his chest.

“Didn't even seek?”, Jeonghan probes further.

You sigh, “Actively no. But I did go on a couple of dates, even the blind dates Mina set me up for, but”, your gaze drops, “All of them backed out as soon as they learnt about Jae. Guess, no one wants a woman like me. So I have given up on it.”

There are words on the tip of Wonwoo's tongue, he wants to say that you're everything one could ever want, then why did he leave you in the first place?

Your mind lingers back to that phase where your self esteem had hit rock bottom because of some failed dates with men you didn't even know. Might sound funny but the canon balls life had thrown at you combined with ‘nothing has ever gone right’ made you falter.

Jae comes back and the topic is dropped off the table, it's all laugh and chatters until Jeonghan decides to tease you for fun, with the help of his beloved nephew. He loves teasing the heck out of people whom he dear and has engulfed the little boy into this as well. He murmurs something into Jae’s ear without you noticing.

Jeonghan gives a sly grin as he sweeps a gaze round the table and asks Jae, “Jae, tell us who you love more, Mama or Papa?”

A classic trick question to which people tend to avoid answering.

But Jae is giggling as he answers almost immediately, “Papa!”

It is supposed to be a stick to tease you but your heart drops. There's a sudden shift in your demeanor and it's noticeable.

There's a screeching sound as you stand up abruptly and walk into your room, closing the door behind.

“Everything is not made to be a joke about.”, Mina hisses, glaring at Jeonghan.

“Did I hurt, Mama?”, Jae asks, tears already pooling in his eyes.

“Yes, you did. This is not something I expected from you.”, Mina answers him, trying to tone down her anger, “Go to your room, we'll talk tomorrow about it.”

Wonjae follows obediently.

“I'm sorry, I was just trying to–”

“You should leave if you're done.”

It hits a nerve and Jeonghan tries to defend himself which leads to a heated exchange between both.

“Aren't you being too much here, Mina?”, Jeonghan raises his voice with accusations.

“Oh maybe I am because you and him”, she sweeps a glance at Wonwoo, “weren't there during her pregnancy phase. Neither of you are aware of what she had to go through, that her parents disowned her, that she almost lost her life while giving birth to Jae due to excessive bleeding and all other complications.”

Both the men freeze and Mina heaves out a breath.

“You might think, Y/N is getting sensitive over a joke but you guys need to understand that she has her entire life built around Jae, she has always tried to be the best parent to him so if he suddenly says he loves his found father more over her even as a joke, she would begin questioning whatever she has ever done for Jae and whether she went wrong somewhere.”

“Can I go and talk to her?”, Wonwoo asks, his voice shaky holding the pleading tone.

“Do whatever you want, just don't hurt her anymore.”, she says, grabbing her belongings and exiting the apartment.

“Go talk to her.”, Jeonghan adds, “I'm leaving, call me if you need me.”

You sit quietly at the corner of your bed, your mind empty. Your fingers fidget among themselves and all you are trying to remember is why you left the table. Why did it sting so much? Wonjae has always longed for his father ever since he knew about him so it was given and there's nothing to be upset about it.

But maybe you're easy to be left behind, maybe not choosing you is easier than staying. You feel tears streaming down your face, you feel your heart constricting in pain.

Wonwoo enters the room crouches in front of you.

“I'm sorry”, you say, as soon as you feel his presence, avoiding his gaze, “I overreacted over a small matter–”

And you halt when you hear a choked sob.

“No I'm so so sorry.”, he hiccups through every word he tries to speak, “I– You had to suffer so much and I wasn't even by your side. I can't even turn back time, I can't take away your pain.”

You wipe his tears and he leans against your palm.

“I left when you needed me the most. You had to make a lot of sacrifices, while I was just– I'm sorry, Y/N.”

Wonwoo's crying and you watch in shock as he goes into hyperventilation. He grasps at your arm as he tries to breathe but it doesn't work. You hurriedly take off his glasses, loosen his tie and unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt.

“Wonwoo, calm down”, you say, grabbing his face, “Look at me and try breathing. Inhale through your nose and exhale slowly through pursed lips as if blowing out a candle.”

“I-I can't–”, he manages to speak between the ragged breaths.

Then you do what your mind prompts you to, you press your hands near to his mouth which makes his lips pucker and you plant yours on them.

You kiss him tenderly, caress his arms gently with the motive of calming the neurotransmitters in his brain and it works, you feel Wonwoo taking slow breaths as his mind distracts and body eases in the moment.

You pull away, searching for his eyes, “Better now?”

He nods, breathing heavily. You don't let him leave in the middle of the night, offering him to sleep in your bedroom. Once you both kiss your son’s sleeping form goodnight, the two of you settle in an awkward stance.

“Jae doesn't like sharing his bed, so you take my bed and I'll take the couch.”

But somehow you end up in your bed with Wonwoo as he invades your personal space and holds you in his arms like he always used to do.

There's intimacy in the moment which makes you spill your heart out, you tell him how your orthodox parents cut ties with you when you told them about your pregnancy. They never reached out to you after that. You tell him how haunting it was for you to go through it alone. How tiring it was to support yourself by working multiple part time jobs while preparing for interviews and managing the pregnancy and that you believe that Mina is godsend because she's the nurse at the hospital you were brought to when you had fainted at work once and since then she stayed and looked over you like a godmother.

“Aren't you uncomfortable in those clothes?”, you ask, eyes droopy.

“With you in my arms, these clothes are the least of my concern.”, he smiles stroking your hair, “I could do this all my life.”

“I missed you, Won.”, the nickname slips out of you naturally, “When it was unbearable, when I had something to share but no one was there to listen, when while giving birth I thought I wouldn't be able to live through.”, you hide your face in his chest, trying to blink away the tears, “I wished you were there when I held Jae in my arms for the first time, when he grew up to be so much like you.”

Your words turn into sleepy mumbles until they stop.

And once you fall asleep, his floodgates open again, Wonwoo cries the more he looks at you, apologizing a thousand times. He promises to keep you and Jae safe and now all he wants is to take the weight off your shoulders.

Morning comes with the rays of sun peeking through the curtains. You turn within the sheets, having the best sleep in a while as you hug the side pillow, throwing a leg over it. Ten more minutes you promise to yourself as you snuggle closer, a familiar Cologne hitting your nose. You frown, running your hands over the pillow only to find it moving as well.

Your eyes fly open and reality comes crashing down, the pillow you're grabbing is a certain Jeon Wonwoo, who is currently staring down at you with fond eyes and a soft smile.

“Good morning.”, he greets and all you try to do is get away from the proximity. But your baby daddy has other plans.

With a swift swig, he pulls you closer by your middle and pecks your forehead. You go stiff as he eyes your lips and leans in but you don't stop him.

“I think Jae is calling me.”, you say, getting your senses back and wriggling out of his grip, running out of the room.

Wonwoo sits disappointed but his heart is eased.

“Are you sure, you don't wanna inform Mr. Jeon yet?”, Jihoon asks as his eyes almost pierces through the documents, “I got hold of Jimin from the Auditor’s team and he's digging up the history it seems.”

“We can't go up to him just with these documents. We need concrete proof because seemingly we are up against a bunch of influential people. Let Jimin come back with something.”

As you fish out your phone to call Yoongi, the said man appears looking very distraught.

“Guys, it's not only embezzlement, they're planning to upsurge the ownership of this company.”, he informs, leaving the rest of you shocked, “They are on move to convince the shareholders about transferring the shares but given our CEO’s clean image, it won't be easy, what could they be upto?”

“How do you know so much?”, Jihoon asks Yoongi and the latter rolls his eyes.

“Put your mind to come up with something useful.”, comes Yoongi’s snarky remark.

And while the two snide at each other, you ponder on whether to inform Wonwoo about the matter or wait a bit more.

But time doesn't wait and so doesn't the conspirators because a few days later all you see is yours and Jae’s face on every article, all the news bulletins linking the two of you with Wonwoo.

And your heart drops when you realize they're going to use you to tarnish Wonwoo's image.

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip. ©️

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briseroyawritingsblog · 8 months ago

Text

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒃𝒚 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒚𝒂

• 𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒎𝒂𝒏!𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒘𝒊𝒇𝒆!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

+18 minors do not interact

divider by @anitalenia 🤍

• Oldman Logan who absolutely loves your cooking. Especially the steak you often make for him. He’s like a carnivore when he comes home after a long day and there you are waiting for him. You feed him good–

• Oldman Logan who lets you trim his beard, he lets you cut his hair and wash it for him. He can admire your beautiful face and caress your body with his rough calloused hands as you sit on his lap and trim his beard. He hums in approval and kisses your lips softly as endless thank you’s for taking such a good care of him.

• Oldman Logan who doesn’t let you to work. He swore to provide for you– so even though it makes him incredibly grumpy as a side hustle you sell your paintings and make extra income from that. He loves your painting but he doesn’t like you to worry about income. Because he can do it all and does it perfectly.

• Oldman Logan who never asks for anything, but lets you bake him a cake every birthday and celebrate it with you. You’re his soulmate so even though he wears specs to see you better– he blows out the candles with you and cuddles you on his lap. You are wearing his favourite dress and he peppers your face in kisses. With a smile you slide a new pack of cigars in his breast pocket and he gives you the most charming drop dead gorgeous smiles. You melt away-

• Oldman Logan who adores the way you plan everything. Weekends are your date nights. He comes home with flowers and your favourite chocolates and you swoon over the gesture because it melts you so much. You play board games, watch movies, talk about so many things and it never gets old especially the laughing part. Logan almost never laughs but you bring this out of him. Your giggles just warm his soul and he’s a happy man.

• Oldman Logan who promised to make you children. So when it eventually comes and you get pregnant he takes extra good care of you. You feel like on a nine could when he carries you to bed late at nights after watching movies, when he cleans up after dinner, when he cuddles the hell out of you because he cannot get enough of you. He comes along when you do shopping and pushes the cart with you- reaching for the stuff which is high when you cannot reach. You swoon at how tall he is. You swoon at the size of his big hands and sometimes you cannot let go of his hand because he makes your heart race.

• Oldman Logan who loves watching you apply lotion to your round pregnant bump, telling you he doesn’t care if you get stretch marks. He will love them the same way the way he loves you. Unconditionally. He’s eager to become a father and you swoon once again at the way he treats you.

• Oldman Logan who loves taking you from behind, lightly bending you over the kitchen island, while you make dinner and pound you silly whenever your newborn sleeps so you two have some time alone.

• Oldman Logan who loves the way your lips wrap around his veiny length. He gets to see you like this often since you love sucking his cock. Lightly teasing him and gulping on his warm cum. He praises you- and tangles his fingers in your hair coaxing you even closer sliding his length in your throat and you like a good needy wife accept it all. He has an extra view since your breasts are on display for him and you make him all breathless and he moans for you. Only for you. In general your intimacy blooms as you two become parents and you already both plan for another one. Little army of Howletts.

• Oldman Logan who wakes with you during middle of the night feeds. Even though he’s tired he helps you with everything and you tell him he can rest he refuses to sleep without you in bed. He cuddles your little one on his chest, and you secretly take so many photos whenever he dozes off on the couch holding your sleeping little one on his chest.

• Oldman Logan who protects you and keeps you safe, no matter if it costs him few more additional wounds. And you’re the same with him- you protect and care for him in return because you’re a wife. He sees you as his Angel.

• in additional bullet point here Logan is ♾️/10 husband, father and definitely the best man ever.

1K notes · View notes

fgojous · 2 months ago

Text

silver springs ( satoru g. )

satoru's life was planned down to the very last detail. every clinical rotations, every exam, especially his future—laid out carefully like a surgical procedure. but then you came along—loud, sarcastic and seemed to have no remorse when your ice cold coffee was dripping down his white coat—and into his perfectly planned life. and now? he can't stop thinking about you. everything he had planned? yeah, that went sideways.

med student!gojo x pre-med student!reader

tags. romance, fluff, light angst (hehe), hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, slow burn, medical au, college au, age gap, banters (a lot), sexual tension, use of profanities, explicit sexual content, kissing/making out (like a lot too i think? lmao), unprotected sex (pls always use protection), little hair pulling, fingering, p in v, creampie, overstimulation (?), pillow talks | eighteen plus only!

word count. 13.4k

status. completed (one-shot)

note. i know! 13.4k is crazy but i love satoru sm can u blame me. anyway, i can't get enough of med student satoru, he drives me insane. this is kinda self-indulgent (cos yn is a pt student, and me too hihi). btw, satoru is 25 and yn is 20! <3 i think that's all i wanted to say. anyway, i love u <3

Satoru was—safe to say, pissed.

He hasn’t slept for hours. There’s his clinical instructor breathing down his neck. He’s still got to study after this.

Then you, wide your eyes wide, jaw slightly dropped, are just staring at him. Like you were sent by the heavens above to add to his problems today—maybe they said, it wasn’t enough, you had to come.

Fuck this day, really.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” his voice was low, irritation unmistaken.

You blinked, frozen in place, your caramel macchiato—wasted, dripping down his white—very white coat. Does this day get any better than this? You think not.

You stared at the man in front of you. His jaw was clenched and his specs are slightly askew, and there’s obvious irritation dancing in his sharp sapphire eyes, his long white lashes fluttering. Goddamn, he’s tall.

And you are pissing him off.

“Uh—what—you bumped into me!”

His figure was towering over you—his white messy hair caught a glimpse of the fluorescent light.

“Because you weren’t looking. You’re on your phone.”

Well, sorry, if you were stressing about your upcoming long test—but you were here in the hospital instead of studying, accompanying your mother. Maybe she thought it’d be better to string you along in the hospital on the weekends.

“And you’re walking too fast.” you retorted, your chest was brewing. “Can’t you watch where you’re going?”

His lips twitch, almost smirking. You’re so fucking… irritating. “Wow. Was it your mission to irritate me today?”

You scoffed, my god, you hate him already and you don’t even know his name yet.

You reached for a napkin from your purse, attempting to ‘alleviate’ this situation but you know that there is nothing you could do anymore. You were about to dab on his coat when he stepped back.

“Are you seriously going to dab it in?”

“Wow. You’re so grumpy.”

“And you are irritating.”

Yes. You get it.

“Then maybe you should get some more sleep?”

He paused, for a moment, before he laughed. He actually laughed.

Not that loud, but enough for you to ease a bit. He can’t believe that you still have something to say—and yet to say the one thing that he’s waiting for you to say.

“You’re unbelievable.” he muttered, he adjusted his glasses before peeling the coat off. “You owe me. Dry cleaners.”

You blinked, he’s only wearing his dark navy scrubs now, you see his badge clipped on his breast pocket.

Gojo Satoru | Clinical Clerk

His name lingered in your mind longer than it should be. Where have you heard that name again?

But you didn’t have any time to rack your brains out when he handed his white coat to you with care, like it’s something so fragile it almost makes you scoff. But you took it anyway, because taking it to the dry cleaners was the only thing that you could do now—and you know, it’s kind of your fault too.

“Don’t put bleach on it. I’m serious.”

“I know how laundry works.” you rolled your eyes, folding his white coat carefully in your arms.

“Really? You’re not just a spoiled brat who spills coffee on someone’s coat?”

You deadpanned, not bothering to answer him because seriously, you can’t argue with him anymore. You handed him your phone and his brows furrowed, “Your number. How could I give this back to you if I can’t contact you?”

He snatched your phone from your hand, “For once you were actually thinking.”

Oh my god, give me the strength not to wipe his coat on the floor right now.

You just watched him type in his number, he called his phone from yours so he could save your number.

“There.” he says, handing you your phone back. “I expect my coat to be sparkling clean.”

“Yeah, fine.”

He didn’t answer you anymore and just turned to walk away. But before he disappeared into the hallway, he waves over his shoulder.

“Talk about dramatic.”

Three days have passed before he reached out to you.

You had honestly forgotten about the coat—well, you blame the myriad of long tests and practical exams for the past three days. You’d gotten immersed in studying that you forgot that you had to actually give his coat back.

But it was already clean and hanging neatly in a garment bag, just forgotten for a bit.

And honestly? You didn’t know how to face him again without getting embarrassed. You may have been too much of a brat that day.

[grumpy med student | 6:57 PM] where’s my coat i need it

[grumpy med student | 6:58 PM] you’ve thrown it away, didn’t you?

You rolled your eyes, typing on your phone.

[You | 6:59 PM ] i can bring it to you right now, my classes have just finished.

[You | 7:00 PM] i had it cleaned, don’t worry. u asked for bleach, right?

[grumpy med student | 7:01 PM] stop fucking with me. meet me at the ER entrance in 20

You stared at the screen for a bit too long. How in the hell did he manage to annoy you with just a text?

But still, you were there twenty minutes later with his coat draped over your arm. You’re still wearing your white uniform, your ID badge hanging on a lanyard embroidered with the hospital’s name—you’re scrolling through your group chats to read about the practicals that were coming up.

“Huh.” you looked up at the voice, his face etched with surprise as he looked at you, “ You actually look so miserable.”

Your eyes fell on him and there he was with his navy scrubs with a stethoscope slung around his neck and the only thing missing was his white coat that was hanging from your arm.

“Thanks. I just came from a six-hour lecture.” you say, voice laced with sarcasm then you handed him his coat. “Here. We’re even now.”

“Didn’t know we study in the same university,” he says.

How could he even know when you’re in different buildings? And he’s already in med school?

“So, what are you?” He didn’t give you a chance to answer when he reached for your badge, “Physical Therapy, huh?”

You snatched it from his hand, “I’m leaving.”

He smirks, “Don’t trip and spill some coffee on someone else now, YN.”

“Try opening your eyes while you walk, Satoru.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and turned away. God, he was so annoying.

Your mother’s rounds were running longer than usual.

She keeps on insisting you wait for her at the hospital so you could have lunch together. With you, living in the dorms and your long, grueling classes eating up most of your days, this was the only time you get to spend together.

And she’s late. And you’re hungry.

Now, you’re in the hospital cafeteria, eating the chips that you got from the vending machine.

This is the only place you could think of where you could spread your books and notes. You can’t afford not to study right now.

Your mind was full of some terms you’re not even sure you’re understanding. You were muttering words, teaching yourself like it actually helps. You didn’t even notice a group of med students passing by your table until a voice cut through the noise going on in your head.

“Hey, Miss PT.”

You looked up at him.

He looked the same. Glasses perched on top of his nose, same navy scrubs except he was the one holding the coffee now.

“Are you planning to get back at me?”

Satoru stared right at you, eyes flickering between you and your notes, “As much as I’d love to stain your white uniform, fortunate for you, I’m not as clumsy as you.”

“Aren’t you too busy to irritate me right now?” you retorted, looking back down at your notes to… read?

Anything.

Just so you could look away from him.

Then you hear him laugh lightly—annoyingly, before turning away. You stare at his back as he walks away then you see him talk to a dark-haired med student who looked just as tired as he is before disappearing.

Then you look down, something caught at the side of your eyes.

Then you see a small chocolate bar on top of your open notes.

Huh.

You muttered a curse under your breath. How else are you going to go to your dorm when it’s pouring?

A heavy breath escaped your lips as you tuck your arm in your chest, watching the rain splatter down the pavement. The rain was cold, loud—and seemed like it would not stop any time soon.

“Let me guess, you’re trying to catch a cold to miss clinical exams?”

Your head tilted to the side quickly. That familiar voice grazing through your ears.

It has been almost a week since you saw him. He wasn’t wearing scrubs anymore. He’s just wearing his white uniform just like you are, a university hoodie for med students draped on his arm.

“Let me guess, you’re going to annoy me to death now?” you gave him a sarcastic smile, “What are you doing at our building?”

“Had to drop off something. Why? You thought I was looking for you?” a menacing grin tugging on his lips.

Does he really have to be this annoying? And unbelievably good looking?

You ignored his comment, “I don’t suppose you have an umbrella?”

“Nope.” he answered, you just sighed and looked away—you frown a bit as you saw some of the students from different programs were looking your way, you just shrugged it off, trying to wait the rain out.

Satoru stared at you, really stared at you like you’re a mnemonic that he was memorizing—you were hugging yourself, teeth clattering slightly, your hair strands stuck in your cheeks.

“Here.” you glanced back at him, your eyebrows furrowing.

“What?”

“Take it. Don’t want you dying from hypothermia over there.”

It’s his hoodie.

You looked at him and back at the hoodie again. You blinked once trying to comprehend what he’s offering you right now.

Is he really? This grumpy, annoying med student is offering you his hoodie?

“Are you going to take it or not? My arm is killing me.” he says, nudging it closer to you.

You sighed, taking it from him with slight hesitation, if you weren’t so cold right now—but you are, so you swallowed your pride, “Thank you.”

“Huh?” he leaned closer as if he didn’t hear what you said, but you know he did because there’s a smirk pulling on his lips right now. “Didn’t hear what you said. Come again?”

You leaned closer, whispering in his ear. “I said, fuck off.”

You slipped on his hoodie, it was annoyingly soft and smelled like him. That’s actually the first thing that you noticed—and you suddenly realized, you actually know what his scent is.

You actually know what Satoru Gojo smelled like even if you’re not around him that much.

And it pisses you off just a little how nice it felt around you.

“You know you’d have to return that to me, right?”

It’s been two days and you still have his hoodie.

You told yourself you’re going to return it. That’s why you’re here again.

In front of the emergency room entrance, in the middle of the day.

If anyone sees you, maybe you could say that you were going to see your mother.

Or, maybe because your professor had canceled his lecture for today and you had nothing else to do.

You’ve got about two hours before your next subject and you got time to kill. Your friends had already gone to the nearest mall and you had no energy to walk around right now.

That’s why you’re here.

That’s what you’re telling yourself because you’re seeing him so often these days, it’s almost becoming a routine and it weirds you out in a way that you can’t explain.

“Hey.”

You turned and there he was again, tall as ever, just a few steps from you..

“Your hoodie.” you say, lifting it. “Thanks.”

His eyes just flickered to the fabric on your arm then back to your face again. “You busy?”

“Not as busy as you.” you say with a mischievous grin.

He almost rolls his eyes, “Have you eaten yet?”

“No.” you answered, a teasing smile escaping past your lips. “Why? You want to eat with me?”

“You like hospital food?”

And that’s how you ended up in that cafeteria again, except you’re sitting across from him now and his hoodie was still on your arm. So, you set it down on the chair beside you—it’s just sitting there, waiting to be brought up.

You’re twisting the pasta with your fork, and stared at it like it hurt you—how could it look this… bland?

But that’s not what concerns you the most, it’s the fact that the silence between the two of you was more comfortable than it is awkward.

Like you had done this before—or, like this isn’t going to be a one-time thing.

Satoru was about to bite on his sandwich when he looked at you. “Do you always stare at your food like it has done you wrong?”

“Do you always sound this irritating when you’re chewing?”

“Yeah. There’s actually a class in med school for that.” he bites on his sandwich, not shying his blue eyes from you.

You stare back at him, sipping from your cup. “You think you’re so funny, huh?”

“I know I am.” his smugness didn’t escape past you. Annoying.

You huffed a breath, “Should’ve gone with my friends.”

“Uh-huh.” he agreed, nodding his head. “Then I wouldn’t have to sit here and endure this torture.”

You scrunch your nose, glaring at him and he just gives you a sheepish smile.

Isn’t he the one who invited you here? And now he’s acting like you’re the one who interrupts his peace.

You didn’t answer—but you glared at him enough to let him know that he’s an exhausting little prick.

When is the bickering ever going to stop?

You bite back your breath before finally bringing it up, “Aren’t you going to take your hoodie back?”

You couldn’t take the way his hoodie just stares at you. It’s too weird—like it’s really meant for you when it’s not.

It shouldn’t.

“You keep it.”

“Why?”

Satoru looked at you, “So you’ll have to return it again.”

So here you were, in your next class, wearing his damn hoodie because the air conditioning in this lecture hall was on full blast.

“Medicine.” you hear Maki say.

“Huh?”

She pointed at the back of the hoodie with her lips, “You’re wearing a hoodie from the college of medicine and surgery. You’re a med student now?”

“It’s not mine.”

“Then why are you wearing it?”

Yes.

Why?

Why are you wearing it?

It has been two weeks since you last saw him.

Not that you were counting.

Well, maybe, it’s because your mother hasn’t been begging you to eat lunch with her and you had no business being at the hospital.

Not that you were hoping for him to drop something off at your building again. My god, why are you even thinking about him now?

It’s because you were staring at his hoodie right now, just sprawled across the backrest of the seat of your study table. You looked away, reaching for your phone to check if he had messaged you—

No, what business does he have messaging you? You tossed your phone away and buried your face on the pillow.

This is so goddamn embarrassing.

The next day, you were about to finish your last class for the day when your mother had texted you and wanted you to come.

And, fuck, you couldn’t get out of your building fast enough. You were almost sprinting to the hospital.

Then you slowed down… why in the hell are you this excited? Isn’t he annoying to you?

So you walked—tried to walk normally, but you were clearly searching for that white hair as you walked through the hallway.

And then you paused, your heart gradually pounds inside your chest, until the only thing that you could feel was your heart trying to claw its way out of your ribs.

There he was, standing just outside the exam room, reading something on the charts when you sneaked behind him.

“Hey, annoying.”

Satoru pauses for a fraction of a second before looking at you, your eyes met, and he looked like he hasn’t slept for about a year.

“Hey.” he greeted you back, his voice was flat—tired.

You blinked, letting out a faint smirk. “Wow, don’t get so excited now.”

You could almost see that grin tugging on his lips but… none. He just adjusted his glasses and scratched the back of his neck. “Just had a long day.”

You searched his face. Yeah, he looked so tired like he hasn’t slept—which, really he hasn’t. But there was something else.

“Oh, you okay?” you swallowed thickly, clutching on your bag—where his hoodie sits heavy just like that feeling creeping up on you.

“Fine.” he says, “I gotta go back.”

Satoru didn’t give you any chance to answer, he walked past you—not a single grin or snarkiness. He didn’t even give you a second glance.

So, you stood there, words still stuck on your throat, standing there a few more seconds than you should have.

[grumpy med student | 11:58 PM] u still up?

You stared at your phone. The bright light from your laptop screen illuminating the frown etched on your face.

[You |11:59 PM] what do u think

[grumpy med student | 11:59 PM] studying?

[You | 12:00 AM] how else am i supposed to answer the long test tomorrow

[grumpy med student | 12:00 AM] what topic

[You | 12:01 AM] orthopedic conditions

You hated how much you stared at your phone, your conversation still open as if you’re really anticipating everything that he’s going to say.

Then three minutes passed and he still hasn't answered and you thought that he had vanished again. And that was it.

It was three days since he gave you the cold shoulder in the hospital, you were supposed to be mad at him for reasons that you don’t even know—or if you even had the right to, and now you’re just waiting for him to respond—

The shrill ringing of your phone cuts off your thoughts.

You looked at the screen and there was his contact.

grumpy med student Calling…

Don’t answer it, you say. Why is he even calling you this late?

Your fingers hovered over the screen, thinking it over, debating yourself if it’s a good thing that you talk to him right now.

But then you sighed, your finger clicking the answer button.

“Hi.”

You heard him breathe on the other side of the phone, “Sorry.”

“For what?” you were almost whispering, like you couldn’t believe that you were talking to him right now.

“Three days ago. I wasn’t in the mood.”

You didn’t say anything right away.

The silence filled with quiet breathing from either of you.

Why is he saying sorry, even though it wasn’t a big deal?

It really isn’t.

Right?

“Okay.” you say softly, and then it was his turn this time to stay quiet. Then you hear him shift, maybe from his bed.

“You still have my hoodie?”

Then your heart pounds. Because you were wearing it. You’re fucking wearing it. It’s wrapped around you, clinging on your skin along with his scent that still lingers in it.

“No, I threw it out.” then you heard him laugh, a breathy laugh that made you slightly insane. “Cause you pissed me off.”

“I said I’m sorry, didn’t I?” he paused for a bit, “Are you still mad?”

You huffed, “Am I allowed to?”

You hold your breath waiting for his answer. What kind of question is that?

“You are.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. So instead, you say, “I��m hanging up. I’m studying.”

“Wait.”

“What now?”

“I’m studying too.” he says, you can hear shuffling on the other side, “Don’t hang up.”

An irritated groan came out of your mouth, refusing to lift your head up from your desk. If you could get just a minute of sleep you’d be fine.

But there’s someone pissing you off by nudging your arm. Repeatedly, to say.

You haven’t had the chance to sleep, thanks to a certain someone who called you at midnight and kept you talking until your brain turned to mush.

And the nudging doesn’t stop.

You finally lifted your head, your eyes stinging from the lack of sleep. “What?!”

Then you froze, just seeing who it was.

Satoru was standing there, looking down at you with an infuriating smirk on his lips—his eyes flickering down briefly to his hoodie that you were wearing. “Now, you’re the grumpy one.”

“And who’s fault is that?” your brows furrowed as you narrowed your eyes.

Then you suddenly realized, he’s in your building.

In your lecture hall.

Right in front of you—in front of your entire block.

You blinked—a little stunned as he placed a coffee on your desk, with a chocolate bar just like the one he left you last time.

Did he just come all the way here to give you a cup of coffee?

Your eyes darted around slightly, your block mates were already watching—whispering like you’ve brought someone famous. Because how often do you see a third year med student in his scrubs, dropping off some coffee for a second year pre-med student?

Exactly. Never.

Then all of it clicked into place like a perfect puzzle.

Satoru Gojo.

You’ve heard his name before. From all around the campus—from the whispers, he’s that med student your block mates were all talking about.

You just didn’t realize it was him. Took you a month.

“Now we’re even.” he says casually, “Bye.”

Then he left you there, with your mouth slightly open—and with the knowing looks that your block mates were giving you.

Especially the one beside you.

“Oh.” Maki smirks, “So, that’s Satoru Gojo.”

You blinked at her, mouth shut tightly.

“Didn’t know you were dating the med school’s golden boy.”

Dating?

Is she kidding right now?

Your eyes gaze upon the coffee he left for a little too long.

“We’re not—he’s… not—”

“Uh-huh.” Maki nods, now staring at the hoodie that you are wearing. “Sure.”

The one thing that you were wishing as of now was for the ground to swallow you whole.

“You’re being weird.”

There you were, elbows propped on the table, cheeks resting on your palm as you shamelessly stare him down.

It didn’t matter that he was famous in your university and everyone was talking about him, blah blah. It bothers you that it took you this long to realize.

Well, you really don’t pride yourself on engaging in senseless gossip, much less about some handsome someone you don’t even know—well, now you know.

Because you’re eating with him side by side, at the hospital cafeteria, with the shitty food.

“You know they call you the ‘golden boy’, right?”

Then he groaned, poking on his food. “So?”

“How come I didn’t know?” you murmured, “I mean, I always hear them talk about you, I just didn’t realize it was you. I just felt stupid?”

“It’s because you are.” and he said that with a straight face, you glare at him and he smiles, “Can you just eat?”

“Okay, golden boy.”

“Can you stop?”

You scrunch your nose and give him a little smile before snatching a fry from his plate, “Make me.”

“Ah.” he laughs—adjusting his specs before leaning in, “You really want to go there? I don’t think you can handle it if I do.”

It was safe to say that you’re flustered, you tried to hold your ground but something in the way he stared at you made your stomach churn in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

“Shut up.” that’s all you could say before pushing his forehead away using your index finger. “Just eat your food.”

─── MONDAY ───

[grumpy med student | 5:45 PM] i’m outside your lecture hall

[You | 5:46 PM] why? u miss me?

[grumpy med student | 5:46 PM] no. i’m just not irritated enough today, maybe seeing ur face would fix that

You purse your lips, trying so hard not to let a smile slip past your lips. Your professor was still on the last slide of her lecture, wrapping things up.

While you were already shoving things in your bag rather hastily for someone who ‘doesn’t care’ whether he’s there or not—and when your professor said the class was dismissed, you said a quick goodbye to Maki before stepping out the hall.

He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed—hair messy, specs looking unfairly good on him.

He looked up from his phone, “Took you long enough.”

You raised your brows, “Well, I’m sorry if my studies are a bother to you having your need to be extremely irritated today.”

“Apology accepted.” he says, pushing off the wall to step beside you. “Library?”

You started walking, side by side—not minding the looks coming your way. “Uh-huh.”

Maybe you could see now why they called him the golden boy.

It’s not just his looks, but the way he’s so focused—head dipped down on his books like his eyes were glued on the paper. He was scribbling notes, tapping his pen lightly—his lips parted slightly.

You could see why they’re talking.

He’s like an all-in-one package—the looks, talent, skills… the way his face looks intent but calm while he’s studying.

But for you, he’s just the grumpy med student who bumped into you and made you spill your coffee on him.

─── TUESDAY ───

[grumpy med student | 3:12 PM] i think my legs would fall of if i moved

[You | 3:12 PM] why

[grumpy med student | 3:13 PM] they made me stand for 6 hours straight. fuck it, i’m never moving from this gurney

[You | 3:14 PM] aw, poor baby. want me to carry u home? );<

[grumpy med student | 3:15 PM] yes baby

[You | 3:16 PM] fuck u

─── WEDNESDAY ───

[grumpy med student | 6:17 PM] bring highlighters, forgot mine. not YELLOW

[You | 6:17 PM] what’s your beef with yellow

[grumpy med student | 6:17 PM] hurts my eyes

[You | 6:18 PM] you know what hurts your eyes? lack of sleep

He looked up at you when you laid out a bunch of highlighters in front of him, “Don’t worry. Not one of ‘em is yellow.”

“Did you go around and ask a bunch of people for highlighters?” his eyes followed you as you sat in front of him.

You just shrugged your shoulders, opening your own notes—hiding a grin behind the paper.

─── THURSDAY ───

[grumpy med student | 6:45 PM] where are u? some freshmen stole our table. the fuck

[You | 6:46 PM] our prof is still wrapping up

[grumpy med student | 6:47 PM] get here fast

You roll your eyes as you read his text. Your professor ended the class and you stood up almost immediately.

“Going on a date again?”

You glanced at your friend, brows furrowing. “It’s not a date.”

Maki doesn’t know why you’re still fooling her, maybe because you don’t know yourself what this is.

“Oh. Okay. Say hi to Gojo for me.” she says, laughing before stepping out the door. And you just huffed out a breath before picking up your bag.

You walk slowly—just to spite Satoru, and to think about what really is this.

Well, you’re just studying together. There’s nothing wrong with that, right?

─── FRIDAY───

[grumpy med student | 4:45 PM] i forgot to tell u earlier, someone just came up to me and asked if MI stands for mild infection

[You | 4:46 PM] my god

[grumpy med student | 4:46 PM] haha right.

[grumpy med student | 4:46 PM] what time’s your out? lecture just finished

[You | 4:47 PM] i'm here at the 2nd floor lounge w my friends. why?

He didn’t respond after that, you didn’t think much about it. Maybe he got pulled into a case, or he thought it’d be better to annoy his friends other than you.

Not until Maki nudges you with her shoulder, looking at the figure walking up to your table.

And there he was, Satoru Gojo, gracing your building with his presence—still in his lecture uniform, his hands were in his pocket like he’s a walking drama that’s about to happen.

“I don’t think you belong here.” you say as soon as he sat beside you, in front of your friends who’s just looking at him with their jaw slightly dropped.

“Yeah? I was told I could find the most irritating person here. And, yeah. Here she is.”

Your eyes were flickering in between your notes and him.

Because for the past ten minutes, he’s been blinking slowly—nodding off just a little before snapping his eyes back open.

You try not to stare at him but it’s really hard not to.

Satoru shifts in his seat, his cheek dips down on his folded arms—and then, poof, out cold.

Seriously?

You pressed your cheek against your palm and let yourself stare at him. His white hair was messier than usual, his specs almost out of place—his lips are parted slightly, small huffs of breath shuffling out.

He looks so exhausted.

This is so stupid, my god.

Your eyes darted around the library to see if someone else is looking—but they’re caught up in their own world, so you extended your arm, reaching out for his glasses before removing them slowly and placing them neatly on the table.

You should’ve stopped there.

But your fingers lightly grazed his hair strands, brushing it gently out of his face.

It doesn’t make sense why—you’re here tucking his hair like you’re meant to do it. You don’t know why you keep meeting up with him when he’s just supposed to be a stranger you accidentally spilled your coffee to.

It’s like suddenly you’re looped in each other’s orbits and you can’t go on a single day without even talking to each other.

This is so stupid.

You sighed, leaning back on your chair and focused on your notes again.

Twenty minutes later, maybe more, he stirred.

You look up just in time to see him squinting his eyes against the light, he looked at you still a bit disoriented.

“You didn’t leave?” he mumbled—voice hoarse from sleep, now sitting up and stretching his arm.

“No.” you replied, “I’m afraid the librarian might kick you out.”

He lets out a soft laugh before rubbing the back of his neck. His eye catches yours—neither of you says anything for a moment.

You coughed a bit, handing him his glasses. “Here. I thought you might need it.”

[grumpy med student | 6:30 PM] cafe’s too loud

[grumpy med student | 6:30 PM] someone got our table in the library again

[You | 6:31 PM] find another place, we’re almost finished here

[grumpy med student | 6:32 PM] it's all packed

[You | 6:33 PM] are u sure

[grumpy med student | 6:34 PM] ?

[grumpy med student | 6:34 PM] yes im sure, u wanna go check it yourself?

[You | 6:35 PM] ugh so maybe next time?

[grumpy med student | 6:35 PM] how about my place? it’s quiet

You were having a staring contest with your phone again.

His place and quiet didn’t quite add up to you. Your brain was reeling its wheels trying to conjure every possible way going to his place for the first time ever might entail.

It’s not like this is the first time you’re going to be alone together. It’s just that—this feels different, too different.

[grumpy med student | 6:37 PM] unless you don’t want to, it’s fine we can study tomorrow

[You | 6:37 PM] no it’s okay

[grumpy med student | 6:37 PM] okay, i’m outside your lecture hall

And that’s how you ended up in his place, at the living room floor with your notes and books splayed on the coffee table and on the floor—just anywhere near.

His place was surprisingly clean. Not too clean, but enough to surprise you considering he’s too busy. There were a lot of medical textbooks near the coffee table, some takeout containers but that was it.

And there’s definitely his scent that lingers around the air.

It was silent between you two—it’s always like that, not awkward silence but comfortable. You were both flipping through books, handouts and whatnot.

You were scribbling left and right and sometimes mumbling mnemonics like you’ve lost your mind.

Sometimes he’d ask you some questions about anatomy because he needs to recall something—or when you’re spacing out, he’d nudge your knee with his and you’d flick your pen or a yellow highlighter to his direction.

Yeah, well, it was a mix of peaceful yet chaotic.

Satoru looked up from his book, arching his brow when you sprawled on the carpet, your handouts placed above your face.

“If I read the word vertigo one more time, I swear I’ll jump off the balcony,” you say, your voice a little muffled due to the papers that were covering your face.

“Neuro?”

“Uh-huh.” you replied, groaning.

“Okay, I get why you’re being so dramatic now. Take a break?”

You pulled the papers out of your face as you sat up, “Yes. Please.”

You lean the side of your body against the couch, elbows resting on the cushion as you look at him. “So, were you like this when you were in college?”

“Like what?” He removes his glasses, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“Uh—annoying?”

“Yeah, it’s innate.” and you both snorted, “It’s a gift, don’t you know?”

You waved your hand off, “But seriously, what were you like?”

He turned, mimicking your position. “Just like this but minus the parties. Kinda reckless. Uh, handsome?”

Then you threw your handouts at him.

“And you, after college are you going straight to med school?”

You hummed, because that was always the plan. It never changed.

“Yeah. That’s always the plan.” you answered, “So, you partied in college, huh? I could see it.”

He raised his brow, a smirk appearing on his lips. “Oh, yeah?”

“Uh-huh.” you narrow your eyes, looking at him carefully like you are analyzing him. “You’re wearing a backwards cap and oversized long sleeves with the first few buttons unbuttoned, probably holding a red cup—then there’s girls hovering over you, while you give your number left and right, did I nail it?”

Satoru blinked for a bit, then he suddenly laughed. “That’s oddly specific. What are you, a witch?”

You snorted a laugh, pointing at the small picture frame on his TV console. It’s a picture of him with his friends at a party—and he was wearing exactly what you had said.

Satoru blinked, looking at the photo then back at you.

Then he suddenly flicks your forehead—not too strong, but enough for you to glare at him. “You saw it earlier, didn’t you?”

“Ouch?!” you winced, a menacing smile slowly creeping up to your lips. “Even if I didn’t, I know you were like that.”

“Okay, miss psychic. But you were wrong about one thing.” he stretched his arms, and you could almost see the electrical field of smugness around him.

“And what is that?”

“I never gave my number to anyone.”

You raised a brow, “And why?”

“Because they wouldn’t stop texting.”

“But you gave your number to me.”

He stops for a bit.

“Yeah, because you have my coat. I was afraid you’ll throw it out of spite,” he smirks.

“You’re so annoying.” you roll your eyes, your lips trying to twitch into a smile. “So you never dated anyone serious?”

He hummed, like he’s trying to think of every girl that he dated and you almost threw a pillow in his direction. “Just the one. But we broke up after a year.”

You were about to speak when he did it first. “How about you? You ever had a boyfriend?”

You shrugged, “I had a boyfriend. First year. For just a few months. But it’s fine, we’re just friends now.”

You swore you saw his grin falter a bit—his jaw clenched slightly before speaking, “Ah. Dark-hair, looks like he hasn’t slept in quite a while, that guy?”

You blinked, “How did you know?”

“That day in the lounge,” he paused, “He was staring at you and he looked pissed when I sat beside you.”

Your brows furrow a bit then you laugh, “He always looks like that.”

“Right.” he paused, he was smirking but his eyes told a different story. “Totally normal.”

Both of you just stared at each other until you looked away and he cleared his throat like there’s something stuck in there that he couldn’t quite say.

“Okay. Break’s over.” he says, and just like that he’s got his specs on and a book on his lap again.

“Yeah.” you mumbled, and reached for your handout then you turned away.

The silence envelops the two of you again. All you could hear was his AC unit humming, his shallow breaths and the papers rustling. You were tapping your fingers on the carpet over and over again while you tried to read what was on the paper.

But all the letters all seemed mushed as you try to comprehend the look he gave you earlier.

What the fuck.

It was ten minutes until you spoke again.

“Satoru.”

“Yeah?” he answers, gaze not leaving the book.

“Let me try the Dix-Hallpike maneuver on you.”

Then he looked up—you were holding the book up to show him the illustration, his eyebrow creased. “You really think you could pull me down without dislocating my neck?”

You thought about it. He’s taller than you, probably a bit heavy. But, hey, there’s no harm in trying, right?

You squint your eyes, “Come on. I just want to practice. It’s for the sake of medicine and my future patients.”

He groaned, removing his glasses, then he stood up to sit on the couch. Thank god his couch is L-shaped, you have plenty of space for him because he is freakishly tall.

You had him on the couch in a long sitting position, then you stood in front of him. Your hands shake a bit when you hold his face on each side, tilting it gently.

Your heart was pounding, how can it not when this six-foot tall med student was staring at your face like you’ve got all the answers in the world—

“You’re shaking.” his voice was low.

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“It’s because you’re annoying, put your weight on me.” you say a little bit pissed, and he just laughs. “I’m going to lean you back now.”

And you tried, like, really tried but his muscle mass and gravity weren’t on your side. He leaned a little bit too enthused, his shoulders were also hanging because you hadn’t calculated the size of this couch.

This maneuver isn’t meant for this couch, really.

He burst out laughing and you did too, “You broke your patient.”

You were still laughing, hands clutching your stomach, he sat up. “Let me try it on you.”

“You don’t even know how.” you say, still giggling.

“I saw you did it, didn’t I? And lucky for you, I’m a fast learner.” he reached out to your book and read the section for a bit.

You just watched as he read for a while, a smile creeping up on your lips. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Don’t break my neck.” you say as a warning.

“Yeah, yeah.” he says, tapping the couch for you to sit on. Then it was your turn.

Your breath hitched when he placed his hand, his palm on your jaw—his thumbs placed on your cheeks, and his fingers were supporting your neck.

Then he leaned you back, your head hanging from the couch—you didn't realize that he was too close until you felt his breath on your cheeks.

“So, tell me,” he says, his voice almost a whisper. “What signs to look out for when your patient is positive for this maneuver?”

“Uh—” you paused, your voice was close to cracking. “Nystagmus.”

“Good.” he mumbles, his breath getting heavy. “For how long?”

Then you tilt your head to look at him, he was still holding you. His thumb was brushing your cheeks.

“For… uh—seconds to minutes…”

My god, this felt like hours.

You could feel the air shift and all the nerves in your body had awakened.

Your gaze locked into each other and it just clicked.

Then he pressed his lips onto yours, not a sliver of hesitation like he was sure he wanted to do this.

The kiss felt inevitable.

Your eyes widened before you closed them, tugging on his shirt to pull him close—his hand moved to the back of your neck before pulling you up without breaking the kiss.

You could feel your body warm up despite the air conditioning being on low temperature—the nerve endings on your skin were working full-time as his fingers grip the back of your neck a little.

Then his back hits the cushion with a soft thud.

His hands settled on your hips—your weight hovering over him as you straddle his lap—he deepened this kiss, biting your lower lip—pushing his tongue in, making you whimper in his mouth.

Your hands travelled to his hair, grasping the locks in between your fingers. His hands were circling in on you now.

He was kissing you like he was being starved—like he wanted to devour you whole.

Then the kiss turned deeper, messier and louder—teeth clashing, lips biting, tongue delving inside just to taste every inch of your mouth—none of it was neat, he was kissing you sloppy.

Satoru groaned into your mouth when you moved your hips a little. You could feel him bulging underneath your clothed sex, he gripped your hips trying to keep you steady.

Then he pulled away—his eyes lidded, lips were swollen as you looked down at him, both your breaths uneven.

He didn’t say anything—just looked at you like he was memorizing the way your lips quiver as you breathe.

“We should stop.” he finally says, his voice rough.

“Why?” you ask softly, chest heaving—your hand still tangled in his hair, your fingers combing his soft locks.

“Because if we don’t,” he swallowed thickly, gripping your hips like he’s holding to what restraint he has left. “I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back anymore.”

Your ears pulsate, your face warms up as you stare at him.

God, you’re making him crazy.

The walk back to your dorm was silent. Not the tense silent kind of thing, where someone is about to throw a fit or cry.

It’s a ‘we-just-full-on-make-out-and-don’t-know-what-to-say’ kind of silence.

The kind that made your footsteps heavy on the sidewalk—you can’t even look at him, and you know he can’t look at you too.

Because he hadn’t said much since he offered to walk you back to your dorm—just took your bag without even saying a word, his skin brushes against you a bit and that was all, that was the last contact that you two ever made.

You were asking when the bickering would stop, and here it is. It stopped.

You used to walk like this together all the time. To the library, to the hospital cafeteria, to the café—bickering, nudging each other, making stupid jokes and annoying the hell out of each other and now it’s just… all gone.

You have no idea what else to do now. It’s like an itch on your brain that you can’t scratch. How are you supposed to act now? How do you even walk normally? How do you even breathe normally?

You swallowed hard, your brain was starting to irritate you. It’s screaming at you over and over again. You kissed him.

Nuh-uh, not just kiss, you made out with him. On his couch. With his hands gripping your waist. His fingers tracing your spine. Your lips clashing, molded into each other like it was the most natural thing in the universe.

You pursed your lip, huffing out a small breath that you wish he didn’t notice. Your thoughts were scattered, you couldn’t even think straight. You couldn’t find any right words to say.

And yet, you caved.

Your eyes looked forward, “You’re awfully quiet.”

“So are you.” he replies, then you look at him and he is staring at you.

And there he was calm. He always looked like that. Like this didn’t shake him.

Was he spiraling too? Is he pretending right now? You don’t know. You can’t even tell.

What now? What are you going to say? Are you going to ask him now what that kiss meant?

You looked away again. Wouldn’t it be better if he said something—maybe joke about it a little or annoy you, tease you—like he always does. But none of that was happening.

He stayed silent. And so did you, until you reached your dorm building.

“This is you.” he finally says, handing your bag to you.

You took it, and his fingers brushed into you again.

You open your mouth to say something but none of the words come out. Your throat felt like something big was stuck in it and you couldn’t spew what you wanted to say.

“Good night,” he said, and you just gave him a faint smile then you nodded.

What even is this? Why can’t you say something—

“Is this going to be weird now?”

He blinked, frozen in place but then he gave you a smile. Not that annoying, smug, teasing smile of his—it was a genuine smile, the kind that makes your heart squeeze.

“Only if you want it to be.”

You wanted to scream because how does he do it? How does he say it so casually while you’re here, like a ticking time bomb, about to explode?

Your fingers tightened around the bag that you were holding.

No, of course, you wouldn’t want it to be weird.

“I don’t want it to be.” you said, almost whispering.

Because that’s the truth. You didn’t want anything to change. Even if you’ve crossed that line. Even if you didn’t know what it meant for the two of you.

You don’t want to lose whatever this is.

He nodded, then stepped forward—placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow, YN.”

You just swallowed hard. Your eyes followed his figure while he walked back to his place that was just a few blocks from yours.

Your heart was pounding inside your chest. It’s funny you realize this now—but you know, it’s the truth.

That he’s either going to be the one… or the one you’ll never recover from.

You just didn’t know which is which.

You both said you were just taking a short break.

But now you have no idea how long you’d been like that on the couch.

Your back on the armrest, while he’s above, pressing his body against you—your legs curled up beside him and the other, slightly on him. It was getting kinda hard to breathe—from the kiss but also from the fact that whatever this is, there’s no coming back from this.

Your grip on his hair tightens when his lips trailed down to the side of your lips, to your jaw down to your neck—sucking and licking, “Satoru—don’t… don’t put—mhm!”

Then he presses his lips on yours again, and you could feel him smile—his teeth grazing on your lower lip.

“You know we should be studying, right?” he says in between, breathing heavy, then he was on you again—biting and nibbling on your lips.

“Mhm—hmm.” you hummed into his mouth, pulling him closer, like there’s any space left in between. Your lips were probably swollen—wet, from all the sloppy kisses that he was giving you but you didn’t have any care in the world.

Your notes and books were long forgotten on the floor and on the coffee table.

Your hair was probably a mess, a few buttons on your white uniform were unbuttoned—his white shirt was wrinkled from all the tugging that you did.

His hand moved to your hair, gripping on it a bit to angle your head—you moan into his mouth, and he pushes his tongue, swirling it around then sucks your tongue in—

“Yo. You weren’t answering—oh. OH.”

You both froze, eyes now open and you’re becoming painfully aware that he’s still above you. Then you heard another voice coming in.

“Hey! We brought—my god, we’re so sorry!” Then you heard a soft thud on the floor.

You pushed Satoru off you so fast that you almost hit your head against his. You sat up, fixing your hair and buttoning your white uniform again—while Satoru, this dumbass, was groaning—his back leaned on the couch now.

“For the record,” the tall guy with a dark-hair tied loosely into a bun—the one you saw in the cafeteria, started speaking, “We knocked.”

Satoru was about to speak when a voice cut into the conversation. “Hey, what’s up?”

“What’s happening in here?”

And another.

Now, there’s four of them. Looking back and forth at you and Satoru.

“Hi. I’m Yuki!” the tall blonde girl cracked the awkward silence, she walked towards the couch where you were sitting, then she pointed at her friends. “That’s Choso. Shoko then, the one who interrupted you first was Suguru.”

You smiled at them, still catching your breath—pulling your uniform down slightly, “I—uh… I’m YN.”

Then her eyes widened, “Oh! You’re YN?! The YN?”

Was he talking about you to his friends?

“The YN that spilled a coffee on his coat then he bitched to us about it like a fucking baby?” Shoko—the short-haired girl nudges Satoru to move so she could sit beside you.

Satoru glared at her but he moved anyway. Then slowly they were placing the food here and there, Suguru even handed you a soda.

“He was so dramatic about it,” Choso says, “We almost kicked him out of the group chat.”

You whip your head to look at Satoru, “I can’t believe you told them.”

“What was I supposed to do? I was pissed off.” he says, groaning. “And you didn’t even say sorry!”

“Uh—what? Cause you’re the one who bumped into me like you’re walking with your eyes closed! And I did say sorry!”

Did you? That memory was kind of a blur now.

Satoru laughs, “Uh. If I could remember, the only thing you said to me was I needed to get some sleep.”

And just like that the whole room burst into laughter—they were watching with amusement as you bicker back and forth with their friend, like they haven’t caught you making out with him on this very couch.

They were very loud—but funny, and so comfortable with each other and yet, you didn’t feel left out. Not even for a bit.

Now you’re all on the floor, your back leaning on the couch and Satoru was seated beside you.

Yuki was looping you in on the jokes. Shoko was asking you how pre-med is now and then, Choso and Suguru were asking you a bunch of questions about anatomy like you were in a trivia game.

They like you.

And that made you feel overwhelmed—in a good way, maybe? How are you supposed to feel in this position anyway?

You didn’t even notice the embarrassment gone out of your body like it was nothing. The room was filled with jokes, banters—and god, Satoru’s laugh. His laugh was annoyingly good. It was driving you insane.

You were still laughing when you looked at him and he looked back at you with a faint smile etched on his face.

Then your eyes landed onto his, he was looking at you like there’s something brewing on his mind—like there was something that he wanted to say but he couldn’t.

“You okay?” you asked him, nudging his knee slightly.

“Yeah.” he slung an arm around your shoulder, “Good.”

You smiled and looked away because you can feel something shifted. You can feel something tiny—an ache, pressing onto your ribs that was supposed to be protecting your heart.

You just didn’t know what it was.

Your days felt the same but at the same time it wasn’t.

You were still talking.

He was still messaging you.

You were still studying together—not at his place, but at the library.

And he was quieter than usual.

He wasn’t nudging your knee, flicking your forehead or grumbling about his back-to-back rotations where they made him stand for hours again.

He was just… there. Reading. Writing something in his notebook. Not even sparing you a single glance.

“Are you okay?” you asked and he just hummed, you took a deep breath, “Am I annoying you?”

He stopped for a bit, still not looking. “No.”

You were expecting that his answer would be ‘yes, you’re annoying me. you always do.’ because… that’s how he’s supposed to answer you, right?

With a cocky grin and a teasing tone. That’s how.

Maybe he was just too tired. Maybe his instructor was too much. Maybe he was just… you don’t know what reasons you could come up with anymore just to justify him acting like this.

But still you brushed it off. Holding onto some stupid reason that you don’t even know.

But the next day came. He canceled lunch, saying he was backed up. Rounds were taking too long.

He said he’ll see you later at the café, that he’ll text you once he gets there.

But he didn’t.

But you let it slide, maybe it slipped his mind. Come on, he’s a third year med student, of course, he’s busy.

And for the next two days, he was silent. He wasn’t messaging—and how you hated that every single time you stepped out the lecture hall, you were wishing he was there, leaning on the wall—waiting for you.

But he wasn’t.

So, you’re staring at your phone for the whole lunch break. Contemplating whether to send him a text. Typing then erasing, then typing again—and the cycle just continued until you had the guts to press the send button.

[You | 12:32 PM] u still alive? haha

So, you waited. Until the lunch break finished. Until it was time for your one pm lecture.

None.

Then you check your phone.

[grumpy med student | 4:45 PM] just busy

It took him four hours.

Four. fucking. hours. It was starting to piss you off. Why is he acting like this? Why is he avoiding you like you’re some plague?

Was it something that you did? Was it the kiss?

Your mind can’t comprehend why he’s acting this way. You were good, right?

You were so good. Not just good. Everything felt right, everything was into pieces like a puzzle locked in together and now it shattered, and the pieces were missing.

You already felt like you belonged.

And suddenly, it’s just… this?

[You | 4:55 PM ] okay

And that was the last thing you sent him.

Then a week passed by agonizingly slow—just like this elevator ride up to your mother’s office.

There were days that you found yourself staring at your phone—reading the old texts, and his damn hoodie wrapped around you while you slept, just to fill a large chunk of space that he left.

You hated how much you noticed the space where he was supposed to be. You hated all of it because he wasn’t just ignoring you—he’s making you feel his absence, and no matter what you did—you can’t escape this raw, aching feeling that’s clawing its way to your chest.

Like it wanted to rip your heart and lungs out.

Maybe it was all too much for him? Maybe he regretted it now.

Maybe.

You looked at the elevator door when it opened—

Your breath caught in your throat. Your heart stopped beating for a short while before screaming inside your chest.

There he was—Satoru, standing in front of you, his hair was messy like he ran his fingers through it a lot of times, his specs still perched on top of his nose and a stethoscope was hanging around his neck.

You could see the look on his face—like you’re a ghost that he was trying to avoid. But then he stepped in and stood up a few inches away from you.

You knew this was going to happen if you went to the hospital. You know you’re going to bump into him—the problem is, you didn’t know what to say, you didn’t know how to act anymore.

This was the kind of silence that you hated—it was heavy with the words that you couldn’t utter. Words that you don’t know how to get out.

You wanted to say something.

Open your mouth but all you could do was look straight ahead.

Like he’s just some stranger who you share memories with.

You know he was about to say something by the way he breathed but then the elevator door opened again.

But you didn’t wait—didn't look back, didn’t spare him a glance and just walked out until you were out of his sight.

And that was the moment you realized—it was all gone.

The bickering, the coffee, the waiting outside your lecture hall so you could walk side by side to the library—the mnemonics, the late night calls and—the kiss.

It was all lost.

Just like that.

The cafeteria was just the same. It was a little more crowded than usual but it was just the same.

But instead of him, you sat across from your mother, quietly eating her food while her phone was buzzing nonstop, and she kept looking at her watch while you just poked on your food like it done you wrong.

“Sorry we can’t eat outside,” she sipped on her coffee, “The surgery took longer than I expected and I still have a consult after this.”

“It’s okay.” you answered softly, absentmindedly poking. You hadn’t said much since you saw him earlier.

You hated him for doing this to you.

“You alright?” your mom asked, staring at your face and you lift your head, giving her a faint smile.

You nodded, but something caught the side of your eye and it darted past your mother’s shoulder—to the table at the corner of the cafeteria, why is the universe playing with you today?

There he was, sitting with his friends, and he looked how he was earlier—except he looked like the skies fell on him.

She followed your line of sight, furrowing her brows a bit before turning to you.

“You know Gojo?”

Your ears pulsate with just a mere utterance of his name.

You looked away, “No.”

“I hear he’s a bit popular in the university,” she continued, giving you a look like she was looking out for your reaction, “Even here. One of the top students. Brilliant.”

You just hummed, and she just kept on talking about him—and you just wished she would stop. “He’s in his third year, right? His mom and I were residents together.”

You blinked, looking at her. “Okay. Tell me what happened.”

“It’s nothing.” you puffed out a small breath, and you avoided her gaze. “It’s really… nothing.”

She looked at you, gaze softening as she watched you push your food around. “Hm. Okay, you don’t have to tell me what happened.”

“It’s really nothing, Mom. It’s fine.”

She just chuckled, her hands cupped yours above the table. “If it was nothing then you wouldn’t be looking at him like that.”

Satoru doesn’t even know what he’s doing.

He bought food but he was barely touching it. It was hard to breathe when he knew that you were there—just a few tables from him.

He hated this. He hates himself—he always does this, when everything feels too good—too real, it terrifies him that he turns away.

Except, when he had done this before—he didn’t get hung up, he had protected himself before it got real, before everything went too deep.

He doesn’t just let anyone in, but then you came, you invaded his space—and this barrier between him and his emotions just came crumbling down.

“Satoru,” Suguru called him, tossing a crumpled tissue his way, “You good?”

“Yeah.” he just nodded, a bit distracted.

Yuki was ranting about her rotations when she suddenly stopped, squinting across the room, to the table where you were sitting. “Wait. Isn’t that Dr. LN?”

Shoko and the others followed her gaze, “Yeah. It is.”

“Isn’t that YN with her?” Choso says, turning away and suddenly, all of them were just staring at him—Satoru, like he had done them wrong too.

“What?” he asked, his eyebrows creased.

Yuki waved her hand first, “Wait. Before we get to Satoru’s stupid ass, why is YN eating with Dr. LN?!”

Satoru lifted his head—he couldn’t help but look in your direction, your chin was resting on your hand, you were looking at the food again like it said something that offended you.

He muttered, “Dr. LN’s her mom.”

“Whaaat?” Yuki shrieked and Shoko was taken aback too.

“You’re kidding?”

But he didn’t answer them. He wasn’t surprised at his friends’ reactions because Dr. LN is one of the top surgeons at the hospital, maybe it just shocked them that you’re her daughter.

Well, it wasn’t a surprise. You’re smart—just like her. You’re…

Fuck. Why can’t he look away? He made his decision, right? Why can’t he get you out—

“The fuck was that for?” his train of thoughts vanished when he felt Shoko smack his head. “Are you—”

“You’re a dumbass.” she hissed, and the other three hummed in agreement. “She’s the only girl that we liked. Like, ever.”

“I mean,” Suguru started, “No offense to your past trainwrecks.”

“She just clicked, you know?” Yuki said, sipping on her juice, “I mean, she didn’t even look nervous around us. She laughed with us, she never had that awkward silence, you get me? Like, you could feel her—ah, I’m rambling. Bottomline, you’re fucking stupid.”

He knew that—and that’s what terrified him, you fitted in so easily. You slid so easily in his life like you really belong there.

The problem was never with you.

He used to be content with what you two had—the endless bickering, the studying together quietly—all of it was enough for a person like him. Enough for him who didn’t have time, who couldn’t offer anything more.

Because what if he couldn’t give you what you wanted? What you deserved?

And it scared him when you two kissed for the first time. Because it felt like whatever you two had, could be something more.

But he wasn’t ready for more.

Not when his life was already hanging on a balance with the endless responsibilities, pressure, expectations—he couldn’t bring you into this.

He was hunched into the desk when Suguru placed a paper bag in front of him. He looked at him and frowned. “What is this?”

“Nurses said someone dropped it off. It’s yours.”

Satoru sighed then reached for the bag.

And his heart stopped.

It was his hoodie.

The one that he gave you so that you could have something of his, that you could return—so you could—he could see you again.

He knew what this meant. He knew why you gave it back.

Because he wasn’t going to see you again.

He just stared at it, barely moved, afraid that if he touched it, it would explode. It didn’t smell like him anymore—it smelled like you.

“You know, it’s the first time that I saw you like this.” he looked at Suguru who was leaning on the wall, staring right at him as if watching him come to his senses.

But he didn’t speak, he just looked away as if scared that the truth would hurt him. And it did.

It does.

“She was really good for you,” Suguru added, “I mean, granted that you ditch us for her like an asshole but still, she made you breathe just for a bit.”

Suguru didn’t say this just to be cruel. He was just telling the truth. Because that’s what he saw.

Satoru’s fists clenched, “I didn’t mean for it to get this far.”

“It’s too late for that, you know that, right?”

“And I told you before,” Satoru muttered, “I can’t do this. I don’t have enough time, space—”

“And yet you did.” Suguru pressed, “You made time. You brought her into your space. You let her in, man. She even met all of us. And I know you, you don’t do that.”

Satoru’s breath caught into his throat.

“And it was a mistake.” he says quietly, like he was trying to convince himself. But he’s too smart for that.

They both know it wasn’t. He never regretted it once. He’s just too terrified.

Because you weren’t supposed to matter. But then you started showing up in places where he was. Everywhere he went you were there. Everywhere he looks, he sees you.

Even in his thoughts—you were there.

You were in every goddamn thing that he touches.

And now all of it is just… just.

There’s no more lunch breaks where you kick his leg slightly under the table, no more yellow highlighters flying to his direction just so you could annoy him.

He would never see the crease in your brows again whenever you were muttering mnemonics like the world would end if you didn’t memorize it all.

He would never get irritated now that you’re not here to pester him about practicing something on him—and he’ll say yes anyway.

Now, there’s no more pretending that he wasn’t falling for you. Because he did, he fell hard and he crashed.

There’s no coming back from that.

He really fucked up, huh?

You were about to drift off to sleep when you heard a knock on your door.

You groaned, clutching the paper that was on your face. You hadn’t slept properly in days and of course—of fucking course, just when you’re about to, someone decides to knock on your stupid door.

Great. Just fucking great.

You removed every paper that was on you and set it aside.

You drag yourself up pulling the blanket over your shoulder to cover up the fact that you were only wearing your cami top and shorts—meaning, you’re not to be disturbed, god, it’s late.

You walk to the door, barely awake, cracking it open just to see who it is.

And it’s like a cold bucket of water was splashed onto your face.

Sleep? Gone.

Your heart? Gone. It exploded.

“What are you doing here?”

He was staring at you like you stole all air from him.

You looked around the hallway before pulling him in—shutting the door behind you. You don’t even know how he got in your dorm building—but here he is, interrupting your sleep, your life.

You turned to him, clutching the blanket around you, waiting for him to speak.

“The hoodie,” he whispered, breathing heavily, “You gave it back.”

“That’s what you came here to say? That I gave you your hoodie back?”

He parted his mouth like he wanted to say something. But he didn’t. He just stood there, staring at you like he’s afraid that you were going to slip away.

So you did, “I gave it back because it’s pointless. I gave it back because I know you weren’t going to talk to me anymore. I didn’t want to hold on to something that… that you clearly don't want.”

His heart dropped when your voice cracked.

“YN—”

“What?” your tone was sharp, like you were protecting yourself. “What do you want, Satoru? Are you going to show up again, act like I fucking matter to you and the next few days, ignore me?”

You laughed bitterly, tears cascading down the side of your eyes. You said you weren’t going to cry.

You didn’t cry in the past two weeks that he didn’t talk to you.

But seeing him here, in front of you, it’s like a dam broke inside of you.

“It’s not that—It’s not that I didn’t want to talk to you,” he muttered, trying to step closer but his feet wouldn’t move. “I fucked up.”

“You did!” you snapped, wiping your tears hastily, “So what was it? You were busy? You forgot I existed?”

“No.” he paused, “Because you weren’t part of the plan. You weren’t supposed to happen—I don’t fucking do this, YN. I don’t stay up late with someone, I don’t just eat lunch with someone because I want to—I… fuck.”

“So you just pushed me away? Because life didn’t go the fucking way you want it to?”

He just looked at you, every word that you were saying sits heavy on his chest.

“Because, God forbid, you feel something real?” your voice shatters, “You made me think, I mattered. Then you just up… and leave. You didn’t even say goodbye.”

And that’s what hurt the most. How easily he walked away like none of it meant anything to him.

You buried your face in your palms, sobbing—the blanket that was hugging you pooling on the floor.

“YN.” he stepped forward, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I fucked up. I’m sorry I was such a fucking jerk—”

“You are!” your voice was muffled, your shoulders shaking as you cried. Then you feel him—his arms circling around you to pull you close, the side of your head resting on his chest.

“I didn’t know what to do.” he almost choked, resting his cheek on your head. “I didn’t know how to deal with something like this. You weren’t just a distraction, you weren’t just a girl who flirted with me at a party—you were, you.”

You could feel his hand tremble by the way he held you, but you let him speak. “You were there almost every day. God, you were the first person I think about whenever I hear something funny or someone irritated the fuck out of me.”

“Then I got scared when I saw how easy it was for you to slip into my space, into the people I care about.”

You pull away from him, your hands wiping your tears. Your gaze finds each other.

“When I was watching you laugh with them… I realized that I care so much about you. And that scared me because I don’t want to lose you—I didn’t want that moment to end, and if I said the wrong thing or did something stupid then I would lose you for good? I could not let myself do that.”

“What changed?” you paused, “So, what? You’re not scared now?”

“No. God, I’m scared.” his eyes didn’t leave yours, “But I’m scared of not being with you at all—of walking away, then spending the rest of my life wondering what we could’ve been.”

You didn’t know what else to say.

Or if there is something else to say.

You were just standing there, his hands trembling on your hips—his lips flutter every time he took a breath.

“Kiss me.”

You say but you didn’t even let him react when you tugged on his shirt, pulling him close to press his lips against yours—your teeth grazing his lower lip to let you in.

And he did, he let you in.

“Fuck,” he muttered, breathing heavily before letting you jump into his arms, he carried you to your bed—pushing everything on the floor, the sheets under you rustles as he set you down along with the sound of the papers scattering on the floor.

And just like that, he was all over you again—on top of your body, pressing himself against you.

“I missed you,” you let it slip in between the kisses, in between the whimper into his mouth. “I miss you, Satoru.”

His fingers trail inside your shirt, skimming your waist up to your ribs until he reaches the underside of your breast.

He groaned into your mouth before pulling away, his kisses trail down to the skin of your neck, peppering you with desperate—hungry kisses, “You have no idea how hard it was to stay away.”

“Then don’t.” you gasp as he bites the skin just above your collarbone, “Just stay… with me.”

God, you’re driving him insane.

Then he was back on your lips again. His kisses getting frantic—desperate, he pushed his tongue past your lips—hot and heavy, swirling his tongue inside your mouth like he needed to taste every inch of you.

Because he does. Satoru needed you, he craved you.

You moan against his mouth, his fingers tracing the strap of your camisole before pulling it down—the strap falling flawlessly from your shoulders.

His hand gripped your shoulder—like he was making sure you were okay with his hands all over you, but you reached for his wrist almost immediately and placed it on top of your breast yourself.

Then he froze for a bit, both your eyes opened—until a startled laugh broke out of him—and next, you.

“I thought you were getting shy or something,” you say breathlessly, laughing softly.

“I was being respectful,” he brushed the tip of his nose against yours and yet his hand was still on your breast.

“Don’t you think that went out the window when you stuck your tongue down my throat?”

“Point taken.” he says before his mouth crashes on you again, licking your lips as he starts to knead your chest—he presses soft kisses against your jaw until he is down to your chest, pulling your cami top down with his teeth.

Fuck, he’s so hot.

You catch your breath as he takes your breast into his mouth, his tongue swirling on your nipple while the pad of his thumb brushes over the other.

Your fingers find their way to his hair—gripping it desperately, like you were aching for more, more touch, more of him.

He lets go of your breast with a pop, his eyes staring at you like he was burning your skin.

“Satoru,” you look up at him, your fingers tightened on his hair, “Fuck, please…”

“I know.” his breath stutters when he sees you part your swollen lips, “I got you, baby.”

His lips were back onto yours—greedy, breathless as his hands roam everywhere, he grips on your hips like he’s melding his hand onto your skin. His fingers trace the waistband of your shorts before pulling it down in a swift motion, throwing it on the floor.

His fingers dug into your thighs, coaxing them apart before moving his hands up, his fingers drawing the fabric of your underwear to the side.

You whine against his lips when he slid his finger up and down your folds, his fingers slick with your juices before sliding one finger in, “Mhm—fuck.”

“You like that?” he murmured, his voice was almost reverent—but the smirk tugging on his lip betrays him, your lips part—breathless moan leaches out of your mouth when he adds a finger.

Then he moves his fingers in then out—hooking it just enough to make you tremble and grip his wrist when he moves it fast.

His fingers coated with your wetness creates a hungering sound, he watches as you arch into his hand—and it makes his stomach curl in an animalistic way. He couldn’t even think straight, he was just watching your every gasp and shiver like he was memorizing it.

“Sa—toru! Mhm, fuck, more—please.” you moaned, tugging him close to pull him close just so you could feel him more, it wasn’t enough that his fingers were inside you—you needed more. “I want you. Please.”

“Ah.” he half laughs, breathlessly—almost moaning, his fingers still pumping in and out of your cunt, “You’re driving me crazy.”

“I know.” you lift your head a bit to reach his lower lip, you graze your teeth into the wet skin of his mouth, “Let me—ngh—drive you even crazier.”

“Yeah?” he groans, and you nod, your fingers reaching out for the waistband of his pants, until you reach the button of his pants—your hands reach inside cupping his hard dick with your palm, moving your hands agonizingly—slowly.

“Ah—fuck—” you whimpered when he stopped pumping his fingers—you didn’t even know how he rid himself of his clothes that fast, then he was on top of you again.

Maybe he was just that desperate—and fuck, you know you were too.

His body was hoisted slightly as he stroked his cock above you while pressing sloppy kisses on your mouth.

Then you pulled away, you watched with heavy-lidded eyes as he tilted his head back slightly—your fingers tracing the line of his abs—guttural moans came out of him like he came straight out of porn, his hand still pumping his cock.

You loop your legs on his waist, pulling him close—you both gasp as the tip of his dick almost dips in your cunt. “Impatient, are you?”

“Mhm.” you pull him more—his jaw clenches, eyes darkening at how maddeningly desperate you are.

“Fuuuck. You’re killing me.” he slides his tip up and down, just to tease you—and it loses his mind how you're faltering with even a small touch. He’s ruined.

You ruined him.

“Please—Satoruuu—OH.”

You both gasp when he suddenly pushes in, slowly—deliberately, like he wanted to relish in the way that you clench around him, walls hugging his dick so tight he might’ve come right there and then.

“Shit,” he groans, voice cracking while pushing in deep—until you take all of him, “You’re so—tight, ah, fuck. So good.”

You dip your fingernails into his shoulder, lips apart—your head tilted back slightly. Your eyes flutter shut as you take the abrupt stretch—the pleasure.

“Satoru—mhm, please. Need you to move, baby.”

He groans into your neck—the pet name added to the things cutting into his restraint, he gripped your hips trying to keep you still—god, he couldn’t move. He was getting overwhelmed with the way you feel soft and tight around him.

There was a hitch in your voice when he started moving, slowly—then deeper, faster—harder.

The shaky, uneven—heavy breathing fills the air. The sheets rustle just below you as the bed starts creaking but all you could focus on was how delicious his hips slaps into you—wet, sloppy thrusts fills your ear, making your body ache in ways you didn’t even know.

Your moans grew louder, air catches on your breath with every thrust that he makes.

“Satoru—ah. Fuck!” you close your eyes from the hundreds of pleasure coursing through your body.

He pulls back just a bit, to see your face.

“Look at me,” he breathes, and when your eyes meet his—he loses it. He was all over you—on your mouth, on your face, neck—pressing wet kisses while he rams you into oblivion.

And fuck, how it drove you insane when he gripped your hair and tilted your head just so he could lick your collarbone up to your jaw—then it suddenly hit you like a wave, his name left your mouth broken.

The muscles on your abdomen contract, toes curling into the sheets.

Your grip on him tightens as your thighs quivered, hips arching into him. “Sat—nggh—toru! Feels so good,”

“Fuck, you came?” he groans, his grip on your hips tightens as he fucked you into overstimulation.

You make him crazy. So crazy—he’s losing his mind—you’re going to make him lose his mind until there’s just a scintilla of sanity left on him.

Satoru cursed under his breath—hips curving slightly as he pushed in deep. Your name leaves his lips, strained—low. His hips stutter a bit before he collapses on top of you.

You could feel his chest rise and fall against yours, your breathing in sync.

“You’re heavy.” you muttered, and he just hums—sinking himself deeper against your body.

“I think I just went to heaven.”

You laughed, swatting his back lightly. “You’re so dramatic, you know that?”

“Well, I’m sorry—but you ruined me.” he groans—you let out a whimper when he shifts slightly, aware that he’s still inside you. You both winced when he pulled out, but still not getting off of you.

“I ruined you?” you arch your brow, he places his head on your chest—listening to your heartbeat like it was the only thing grounding him.

“Hmm. Completely ruined—like my coat was.”

You groaned, your fingers absentmindedly playing with his hair. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

He lifts his head and greets you with a smug grin, “No. I’d be annoying you with that forever.”

Forever, huh?

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twinkletfout · 5 months ago

Text

𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞 ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Yall ever thought about how shy Nanami gets after the 'accidental' kiss you both share? AHHHHHH

He was inching seriously close to your face, you knew it was already getting too late, it was only the two of you to leave the office now. You knew letting him help you on your paper work when he should've just left early was a wrong move. But you couldn't help yourself when he was just standing there offering to help as the last person left the office. But now it's already too late, right?

The newly printed papers slipped from your hands, all of the papers flying across because of the air conditioner, and you could only remember yourself inching forward to grasp it. Only to bump yourself on to him, causing him to quickly turn around "watch ou-!" You said in a hurry, but damn Nanami was already startled because of the closeness of your face to his, in an urgency to catch you before you fell, he didn't know where to touch you, 'can he grab your waist, is that okay?' but before he can make a decision, you have already fallen on him. To you, it looks like, he willingly accepted for you to fall over him.

Your eyes were squeezed shut, ready to take the impact to your head or whatever. But you felt a big hand, holding you firmly on the side of your shoulders, a gentle warmth spreading upon your lips.. your eyes shot open, trying to understand what was going on, and that's exactly how you got into this situation..

Your knees nudging against his groin, your fingers splayed across his chest, your hair falling over the sides of his face as he kissed..you?

You eased into that kiss, letting the few seconds of tremor wash away, you grew bolder, letting your hand move across the sides of his neck to deepen the kiss. The eyes of his that was closed shut, blinked open to look over at you, as he brought his face closer to yours. Slowly, pulling you up as he kissed you with his hands around your waist, and tilting your head to kiss you like he wanted. The air between getting hotter and thicker. you were on your knees now, you could feel yourself growing wet as he continued to kiss you down your nec— Fuck.

Both of you quickly pulled away, startled, because of the sudden ringing of his phone. You both quickly got up, you stood upright and tried to pick up the scattered papers as he went through his pocket in a frenzy to pick up the call. After a minute, he came back as he saw you still picking up the papers as he joined you.

"That was.." he began, his voice failing, not even trying to mask that unbelievable shade of red spreading on his ears. "Let's just pretend this never happened" you said out of breath. "Why?" he said, Still in that same trembling voice, "I— I liked it" he said, catching you off guard. "Did you, um uh" it was like a lump formed on his throat when he saw you looking at him over your shoulders. "Did you, not.. like it?" He said, rubbing his neck, as he fiddled with his tie. Cute.

"i apologize if i was over stepping-" you interrupted him before he could finish, "i did" you simply said, causing his eyes to widen, "you did?" He said in disbelief, only for him to stiffen up at your words, standing there like a statue. He opened his mouth a few times but nothing came out like he didnt know what to say. "I—" he tried, "you?" You asked, stepping closer to him, as you stood before him. His cheeks are reddish pink, as he adjusted his specs, "I liked it too.." he managed.

"yeah, you already told me that." You said, the corner of your lips curving into a smirk at his shy demure. "I did, yes. I did, um yeah" he, looked away not able to look in your eye anymore. "So.. want to try that again?" You whispered leaning towards him causing him to look back at you with his head still tilted to the side but his eyes on you, "Yeah."

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abysswalkerastraea1 · 8 months ago

Note

Art with a psycho girly partner? 🥺

Beguiling Perniciousness 🎀

I love this ask! 💗

Your eyes briefly swept over the decapitated body and the viscous fluid oozing out of it; you didn't bat an eye. You were bubbly, but there was something downright malicious simmering below the surface; He knew you'd cross paths again as he watched your amiable self skip down the road and fade into the distance.

6k words

Girly reader who is obsessed with Art 🎀

Do I even need to say that it's smut it's all I ever write

You played the part well, he'd give you that. Art had first caught sight of you in the old costume shop in Miles County, lurking towards the back where all the nauseating pinks and creams amalgamated to create it's own fantasy-like microcosm, full of various princess and fairy costumes and similar varieties.

He didn't particularly pay you much mind initially, his focus solely on the girl he often terrorised, grinning eerily at her with a sense of foreboding. He remained cruelly amused even as the adolescent with the ironic angel wings dashed out of the shop, eager to flee his suffocating presence.

His mind had slipped the possibility that you had remained within the shop, excitedly trying on pretty tiaras and adorning yourself with sparkly jewellery, all the while remaining oblivious to the grotesque murder of the store assistant, his head cut clean from his neck. Blood pooled upon the floor, draining from the ugly orifice. His head had been tossed haphazardly to the side.

He had heard your bubbly self round the corner, humming happily with an armful of items and clothes, before bumping into his side hastily. Art peered down at your mildly shocked expression, gauging the way your round cheeks appled out into a smile.

Blood lightly covered his form, and specs of it had been transferred onto you. You didn't react, as happy as ever, giggling at your mistake. "Pardon me! I'm sorry, I'm in a world of my own.", your curls bounced as you gazed around the shop, bypassing the crude, decapitated head, and instead focusing on the locked door at the entrance of the shop.

"Oh! I didn't realise they shut so early. That's okay, I've got everything I need.", you whirled past him, almost skipping over to the door and unlocking it. The dresses and other items in your hands still had the tags on them, unscanned and unpaid for. As soon as you stepped a foot out the door, the alarm rang.

Even still, you remained as unperturbed as ever, glancing back at the clown. "You won't tell, will you?", you had indicated to your stolen goods, flashing him a dazzling smile. "You look like someone who knows how to keep a secret.", your eyes briefly swept over the decapitated body and the viscous fluid oozing out of it; you didn't bat an eye.

In fact, your smile rivalled Arts as he nodded slowly that, yes, he could definitely keep a secret. His head tilted inquisitively, searching your expression for a semblance of fear or shock, but he genuinely found none. As you offered him a cheerful goodbye and skipped off down the road, Art bet most people thought you were ditzy and dumb.

Staring at your receding form in the distance, Arts keen eyes knew the aura of darkness when he saw it. You were bubbly, but there was something downright malicious simmering below the surface. He didn't bother seeking you out, you were bound to cross paths.

That had been a year ago. A few weeks after your initial meeting, Art had paused his laborious work of crafting within the dilapidated house due to the sound of male shouting tinged with irritation.

"You've brought me out here for what? You said I could fuck you, so why the fuck are you leading me into the middle of nowhere? Got your boyfriend out here or something?"

The tone was downright condescending and full of unrighteous anger; he believed you owed him something. Art stood amongst the shadows of the lowering sun, arms crossed languidly as he watched, recognising your melodious voice instantly.

"You don't have to be so crude about it, I just want to have a romantic walk in the forest." You pouted, eyelashes fluttering at him as a small smile tugged at your lips, a pretty sheen of lipgloss staining them rosy.

The man gave you a disgusted grimace, checking his phone repetitively. He seemed aggravated, pawing at your skirt covered hips and backing you into a nearby tree. He outright ignored everything sweet you had to say, barely sparing you a glance as he scrutinised your form hugging jumper appreciatively.

Still, you prattled on and on, rambling kindly about how beautiful the forest became in the autumn, how refreshingly cold it was and that it was the perfect weather for a nice walk-

"You've got such a slutty body. Shut your mouth for me, yeah?" Hands began smoothing the already short skirt up your thighs, bunching the fabric, before they were slapped away. You ducked past him, skipping over to your bag that you had dropped earlier on and started searching for something.

"I just need to grab a condom. I'm a good girl, you know." You twirled a lock of hair with a sly smirk, digging through the multitude of items within your handbag. You pouted your lips in mild irritation, hand swiftly seeking what you needed, before you nodded to yourself happily, hand clutching what you desired.

Standing straight, you twirled around and offered the man a wink, to which he scoffed. Barely a second later, his kneecap was blown off as a resounding bang echoed throughout the thicket.

He screamed and fell to the floor in a heap, blood pouring grotesquely over the leaves that blanketed the damp ground. You held the gun out in front of you, aiming steadily. You shot the other knee, face stoic, and rolled your eyes at the blood curdling scream he released.

Art remained in the shadows, arms folded with intrigue as he chuckled to himself, eyebrows low. He watched the man roll back and forth upon the ground, crying out for help and for mercy. Peering back at you, he cocked his head at the way you giggled with a delicate hand covering your mouth, gun held high.

"You're so silly for thinking I'd ever let you touch me. At least take a girl out for dinner first, you know?"

With a playful wave goodbye, you shot him in the head, watching the way his body collapsed backwards, twitching. All fell silent. You sighed contentedly at the peace, smoothing your skirt back into place pristinely.

A rustle of leaves drew your attention, a tall, monochromatic man standing eerily still, lurking behind a tree at you. He was grinning. You waved at him amicably; he returned the gesture.

"Oh, I'd recognise you anywhere! From the costume shop, right?"

Art nodded slowly, stepping out from behind the tree and taking measured steps towards you. You still held the gun in your hand, but it was pointed at the floor.

As the clown approached, you found your neck craning upwards, his body swallowing you in it's shadow. He was lithe and lumbersome, grinning down at you.

"Think you could keep another secret, Mr tall and handsome?" You giggled, face a light pink from his close proximity and intense stare; he was alluring. In fact, you found yourself downright infatuated with him. You could sense the danger oozing off of him in waves, and although a bolt of caution shot through you, you couldn't deny the peculiar attraction you felt to his unique and theatrical self.

Art declined his head down at you, pointing softly to himself, humbly, as though to say 'who, me?', before comically twisting to look behind him, seeking out the other person you were surely complimenting.

It made you giggle again, smiling sweetly up at him as you shook your head at his playfulness. "Sorry, I shouldn't be so bold. You're the miles county killer, aren't you? It makes me nervous being in the presence of someone way above my calibre."

Your eyes fluttered around cutely, before returning up at him with a beautiful sparkle. Art waved off your compliment dramatically, grin sharpening at your girlish giggle. To anyone else, his rigid closeness and predatory stare down would immediately raise flags. But you seemed happy enough, cheeks a cute pink.

"It's so difficult though, being efficient, secretive and untraceable just like you. If I had half of your strength, it would make my life so much easier. It really takes it out of me having to lug these bodies around. And also-"

Art didn't take notice of when you both had begun to walk slowly through the shadowed forest, only that he didn't mind hearing your rambling. He watched you gesture dramatically as you told your stories of having to lure horrible men into the woods before shooting them, and cocked an eyebrow as you suddenly changed subject and fawned over the falling leaves, excitedly proclaiming your love for the various reds, oranges and yellows.

Art nodded thoughtfully at most things you said, even if the gesture was slightly mocking in its sincerity. Even still, he quite liked your voice, and he found himself laughing at some of the tales you told. You were delicate, short of stature compared to him; It would be incredibly easy to reach over and snap your neck. Art found that he didn't want to.

He wasn't restraining himself out of kindness, and he wasn't even actively attempting to be polite. He simply wanted to act this way, here and now, as spontaneous as always. It was humorous, for once he was the one listening calmly, and you were the one grinning far too widely at him.

That was some time ago. Since your first real introduction, you had seen Art here and there, pleasantly surprised when he'd turn up just as you were about to clean up the mess you made of a body, only to drag it with ease to whichever location you desired and burn it.

From there on, sightings of him became even more frequent, moreso to the point that one day you heard a crash in your kitchen, running down with gun in hand, only to bare witness to Art standing menacingly with a horrific smile, blood coating his form and a scissors and pliers held intimidatingly.

Upon seeing you, confusion entered his eyes, his hands lowering. You had never seen the clown appear bashful at his own mistake, raising his hands and shrugging as though to say 'oops'.

It made you giggle, hand to mouth. You pointed towards the window, indicating to the house nearby. "Art, weren't you supposed to be killing my neighbour tonight? You've trespassed the wrong house!" You snickered, bounding over to him excitedly and staring up at him with the most innocent, adoring expression; it made him want to lift the pliers and rip your stunning eyes out and keep them forever.

Art had the decency to realise his mistake, scratching the back of his head awkwardly before rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. He remembered you saying you lived close to his next victim, but he didn't realise you were adjacent. Mistakes for him were so rare.

Art scoffed at himself, shaking his head and throwing his hands up in the air as though saying 'ive made a real mess of this'. His theatrics made you laugh, increasing drastically as you watched the way he perched his hands on his hips in exasperation.

"I'm really glad you're here. I've never shown you around my home before, so..if you've got time..." You trailed off softly, lifting your hands and crossing your fingers with hope as you danced side to side, awaiting his response.

Art deliberated upon that, taking his time as he watched you dance, before shrugging once with a grin. Sure, why not. He could spare a minute or two before he absolutely maimed your neighbour.

He felt your smaller form bolt over to his side and lock arms with him, and he let you. You pulled him along, showing him each room swiftly before dragging him up to your bedroom and pushing him in.

"You look soo dangerous in my room! I love it!"

You had a point. Perusing the room, he found it to be incredibly girly. You had a lot of pinks, fairy lights everywhere and a few teddies here and there. His monochromatic self standing eerily still within your room feels like he's siphoning the pretty colours out of it.

Regardless, you utterly beamed at him, more than happy. You bordered on manic, he thought, body shaking in excitement and fists clenched so hard. Your bright grin stretched wide, eyes round and watchful, focusing solely on him and his reaction.

After what felt like ages, Art lifted a finger up to his neck and mimicked a cutting motion, head tilted to the side and tongue poking out like a comical cartoon character that had been killed. This room was far too bright for him, sickeningly sweet and adorable, but your high pitched giggles of glee at his honest opinion had him chuckling silently too, eyebrows low as he watched you dazzle.

That had been one of your biggest turning points with the clown, and from that day you saw him almost daily. In fact, he walked into your home whenever he felt like it. You'd find him lounging on your chair by the TV at random times in the night, or eating at your kitchen table serenely.

What you cherished the most was when he took you to his dilapidated hideout, dark and dingy and cold, fully juxtaposing your little home; you were now the only beacon of light and colour in this place.

He did enjoy terrifying you now and again, especially in his hideout, his tall form no longer behind you, silently waiting for the moment to make you scream. Each time it made you incredibly excited, anxiety building up inside of you giddily.

When you'd least expect it, Art would be there, coming at you with a hatchet and swinging it downwards playfully. He'd listen to your high pitched squeals and relish in the way you'd flinch and cover yourself protectively. He'd laugh and point at you, shaking his head; it got you every time.

"You're so scary! But honestly, you're so attractive when you do that. Surely some of your victims admit that? The women? Maybe some men?" You swayed your shoulders bashfully, cheeks turning pink like they so often did in his presence.

Art paused at that, a mild look of bewilderment shaping his face at your proclamation, before a sinister smirk darkened the expression considerably. You blinked owlishly as the clown began to take measured, predatory steps towards you, backing you into a damp wall.

He was so tall, caging you against his body, and all you could do was stare up at him with wide eyes, gnawing your pretty lips in anticipation of his next move. He chuckled silently at your reddening cheeks and the way you reached your hands up to cup them delicately. Finally, as an answer, he shook his head slowly.

You seemed mortified. "Did you cut their eyes out first or something? You're handsome to me! Tall, intimidating, dark, incredibly strong--", you began counting on your hand all of Arts best qualities, all the while the clown crossed his arms and nodded patiently, egging you on to continue with a wave of his hand.

"--Honestly, I've always thought this, but I didn't want to be too bold, and I'm feeling really shy with you backing me up against the wall but I also love it, and--and I'm rambling because I'm nervous."

Your admittance seemed to be the biggest factor that contributed to how the two of you were now: You completely smitten with him, and him accepting the fact that he would never kill you. You were sweet and you made the best hot chocolate, and you did make the killings more fun so he'd keep you around.

You were incredibly bubbly, always smiling at him beautifully and helping him cut up body parts with your constant giggles that rivalled his own. He had unintentionally made you cry once, and a foreign emotion had struck him.

Art thought it would be incredibly amusing to offer you a badly wrapped gift with a human body part inside it. He did it mostly to shock you and hear your shrieks of surprise that would eventually melt into laughter, and he didn't particularly put much thought into what body part he would gift you with.

Upon opening the box, you were stunned into silence at seeing the rotten, maggot infested heart staring back at you. You didn't cry out or scream, and you didn't giggle or smile. Instead, your large eyes filled to the brim with tears, lips quivering before the fat droplets spilled over and a sob was wrenched from you.

"Oh my God.", you held a hand to your mouth, mascara streaking your cheeks messily. "Is that a heart? For..for me?", you spoke in utter disbelief, words whispered and shaking. Art cocked his head at your peculiar display of sadness, but nodded nonetheless. He had never seen you cry before.

"That's the most romantic thing that anyone has ever done for me.", you rushed out in a broken sob, sniffling and wiping your tears profusely. Art blinked, face depicting confusion, lips tilted downward. His mind blanked as he awaited your explanation, amusement doused temporarily.

"Id always appreciate anything you gift me, but a heart? Of course I'll be your girlfriend!" You shrieked out with a sob, box dropping to the floor as you jumped and lunged at the clown, arms wrapping tightly around his neck.

He felt your tears soak his neck, his hands lifted up in mild shock, face deadpan, frozen as you wrapped your body around his own, perched upon his lap. Art rolled his eyes up to the ceiling in amusement and exasperation, mimicking your emotional sobs over your shoulder with a dramatic pout, wiping imaginary tears from his eyes.

He eventually threw his hands up in defeat, chuckling to himself. He did not foresee a reaction like this coming when you opened that box. He was more than content to play along, and eventually wrapped his strong hands around your body, charcoal eyes swirling with evil. He rather enjoyed your spontaneity.

Following the initiation into an apparent 'relationship', Art received a few gifts from you too. He himself received a human heart in a black, satin box. It was relatively fresh, and he couldn't help but sigh dreamily and flutter his eyelashes at the romantic gesture. His theatrics were over the top and evidently condescending, but it flew over your pretty head.

He was mildly impressed. You often used guns to kill your victims, lacking the strength and speed to ever out maneuver anyone bigger than yourself. Your hands were never that dirty either, you were not acquainted with using sharp weapons on the human body, so to be gifted a heart of all things, carved with effort from somebody's chest - it made Art nod in genuine approval.

The rest was history.

Art felt unnaturally domesticated within your presence, but he really didn't mind. You had a lot of uses, and he couldn't deny the possession he held for you. If claiming you as his own meant that you were in a 'relationship', then so be it.

He remained nonchalant to your girlish romanticism. He found it to be amusing and peculiarly cute, and even when he'd coo at you mockingly like a little dog, you loved it. In fact, a lot of his condescension did not perturb you. You were overjoyed at him mocking your kissy faces, pouting petulantly, mirroring your own actions.

Art couldn't deny enjoying the tender moments too. He had come to the conclusion long ago that he would never kill you - you were the only exception - and would display surprising levels of intimacy if only to hear your high pitched giggles and tease you for your pinkening cheeks.

Like right now, how he had his large palm delicately stroking your soft hair, brushing strands out of your face. His hand reached down to cup the side of your face, thumb tenderly rubbing circles upon your cheekbone.

You sighed dreamily, the exhale leaving your nose as you bobbed your head up and down his thick length. You sat perched on your knees between his wide thighs on the living room floor, sticky lipgloss leaving a messy residue on his shaft, your lips glistening with saliva.

You had been doing this for a while, languidly pleasuring him, and he let you. He allowed you to sink to your knees and fondle him until he was half hard before your loving mouth engulfed him. All the while, he watched whatever movie you had on TV.

Even when his dick was fully hard, splitting your jaw apart, he barely looked at you. He was focused on the movie, a masked killer hunting a woman down, and hardly spared you a glance even as you worked him faster, slurping and sucking him messily.

It made you unbearably wet, craving his attention, craving even a semblance of pleasure in his expression, or a buck of his hips to indicate that he was enjoying it. Instead, he stroked your cheek delicately, lazily, as though you were a pet that was doing a satisfactory job and nothing more.

Your brows knit together frustratedly, and you took him deep into your throat, saliva pooling down your chin as you choked and moaned quietly at the pulsating between your thighs. You were so wet it was beginning to coat them.

Granted, you had foregone the underwear, instead wearing an incredibly short skirt that had your plump ass cheeks hanging out. You were needy today, you depended on his attention, but he refused to spare you even a thought and it made childish tears well up in your eyes.

Your knees spread below you, skirt rising up higher upon your hips. If he had spared even a moments gaze upon you, he'd see the way your tight, puckered hole swallowed a pretty buttplug, embellished with a sparkling pink diamond on the end.

The pressure was pleasant, and you used your inner muscles to squeeze the toy, wiggling desperately as you did. You closed your eyes as you began sucking him lewdly now, the sounds becoming sloppy and loud as you reached a hand between your legs to play with your aching clitoris.

You were dripping whorishly upon the floor, moaning around his huge cock as you rubbed circles around the pulsating nub before slipping your fingers over it directly, hips bucking in relieved pleasure.

Arousal surged through you as you felt his hips lift the slightest, seeking the back of your throat, and your eyes flew open to witness the serenely blissful expression on his face, only to widen your eyes.

His gaze had been unknowingly on you for a while now, lacking it's usual grin and instead staring sternly, eyebrows low and shadowing his dark eyes. There was a lecherous blackness in his gaze, drinking in the way your cheeks reddened considerably, eyelashes fluttering bashfully against your cheeks.

You had his full, undivided attention now, and it only served to make you increase your efforts tenfold, bobbing your head up to the very tip to suckle the sensitive nerves, lapping up his salty precum with your hot tongue, before sinking back down as far as you could go, lifting a hand to fondle his swollen balls, encouraging them to unload inside your wanting mouth.

Arts intimidating stoicism faltered momentarily at your ministrations, head leaning back into the cushioned chair as his mouth opened in a silent, pleasured exhale, his sharp and angular jawline emphasised greatly from this angle.

That subtle, minor expression of bliss shot bolts of unfiltered arousal through you. You moaned around his cock, redoubling your efforts even as your jaw ached. You suckled your way to the tip, releasing his solid length with a pop; your hand took over, jerking him steadily.

"Mm, I get so wet whenever I give you a blowjob. If you had spared half a second to look at me, you'd notice.", your voice came out in a quiet, childish whine, lips pouted dramatically.

Art lolled his head to the side and stared down at you, eyebrow cocked in a silent question. He scrutinised your little pout and the way your eyes sparkled with unshed tears and a slow, sharp smirk etched it's way onto his face.

Aw, did you crave attention? Are you his little attention whore? Art snickered at the thought, but found that this must surely be the answer; you craved his affections, and he chuckled as your lips quivered.

Art stroked your face tenderly and pouted right back at you, nodding and mockingly agreeing with your little outburst. It really was awful of him, wasn't it? He'd have to rectify that.

Before you knew it, you found yourself bent over the arm of the chair, legs kicked apart as he toyed with the little plug in your ass, wiggling it back and forth. You had a glorious ass, round and fat and smooth, and even he wasn't immune to its juiciness.

He jiggled your cheeks playfully, watching the skin mold to his hand and ripple outwards under the pressure. One day, he'd fuck your tight little rim raw, and the thought had him rock hard as he pushed his cock against your sodden pussy and glided in halfway with a teasing smirk.

"Nng, don't tease me. P-put it all in, stretch me out-", you begged pathetically, pushing your luscious ass back against him.

Art pulled out slowly to the tip, rubbing along your folds for a moment, before catching the tip against your hole. With a playful wiggle of his eyebrows, he sunk in as deep as he could, parting your velvety walls. The stretch was always considerable, always tinged with pain. It made you shudder beautifully, back arching.

"Yes, yes--Love this feeling, love you--", you rambled in a high pitched, girlish tenor, moaning as he filled you to the brim and more.

Arts face split into a nasty, smug grin behind you, shoulders shaking with laughter. It was pretty clear that you loved him, he thought. Each time his cock found your sodden hole you'd proclaim this proudly, delirious and euphoric.

Gripping your waist, Art smoothed his calloused hands down to your hips and back up rhythmically, hearing you sigh in delight. He fucked you the way he knew you loved, hard and deep, and had no issue acting so intimately, so romantically, as you'd say.

You were his, and he enjoyed your feminine noises of pleasure. He felt that you were the only instance where he would ever act this way. With you, he didn't merely act on a whim anymore, dangerously spontaneous. Of course, that did happen on occasion, but in moments like these, when he was paired up with someone so bizarrely loving, so warm and bubbly and intimate, he found that reciprocating wasn't all that hard anymore.

He revelled in your little adoring sighs as he smoothed his way up your womanly figure, and the way you'd nuzzle into his palm every time he'd trail a strong hand down your jaw and onto your neck to hold possessively.

You were as unhinged as him, but you were also..gentle. He didn't particularly want to hurt you too much anymore. He did want to fuck you into a crying mess, however.

Art pressed a thumb to the dazzling diamond sticking out between your cheeks, applying pressure so it sunk in deeper, all the while fucking you hard and filling you so full.

He had a feeling that you were hinting at something with the way this delectable little toy jutted out of you. You were so pure on times, he imagined you found it hard to admit. That was fine, he'd get it out of you one way or another. If you wanted your ass played with so much, all you had to do was ask.

He wiggled the toy back and forth, pulling on it slightly and feeling the way your tight hole suctioned it back in. You whined at the feeling, your ass and pussy deliciously full, and stared back at him with dazzling, loving eyes.

"Ahh-Art--Feels so good-!", you gasped, moaning sweetly to him, so high pitched and whiny that he couldn't help but coo down at you in faux affection. His cock pummelled into you rhythmically, the wet slap of skin permeating the air. His heavy balls slapped sinfully against your pulsing little clitoris causing your legs to quiver and shake.

Art gripped the base of the toy more firmly, wiggling it side to side once again, before pulling it out from your tight rim. You whined noisily at the feeling, shuddering as you felt his fingers dip down between your legs to gather lubrication, before prodding at your hole once more and sinking in to the knuckles.

You cried out, back arching and legs widening further at the feeling of his thick fingers rhythmically filling your ass. It felt dirty and forbidden, something you had never done before, but each and every time he gave your virgin hole attention, whether it be a delicate stroke of his thumb or his tongue lavishing the area, it had you so wet and sticky that you could barely handle it.

Art grinned salaciously as his digits pumped into you deeply, all the while his rigid cock slipped into your pussy relentlessly, stretching you in ways that you should be used to by now, but you never were. He was so long and thick and it made your mind whirl with pleasure.

"S-so dirty putting your fingers in there I--ahh-- I shouldn't like it but I do!", you rambled adorably, your tongue loosening as he fucked you harder, snapping his hips against your bouncing cheeks.

Art snickered and shook his head at your innocence; A finger in your ass was probably one of the least dirtiest things he had touched. Another digit entered your passage, his hot length ravaging your pliant form. You cried out in broken whimpers, rambling little, soft compliments about his sheer size and how you needed him to fuck you, how you loved him.

You became dumb once his cock was near you, he found. He quite liked it, revelled in your incoherent stammering, or the way your eyes would be glued to his massive length.

Art grinned cruelly down at you, a sudden darkness enveloping his irises as he gripped painful handfuls of your hips, his fingers no doubt bruising the tender area, before he pushed your body forward so your upper half fell down with a yelp, your ass fully on display for him and fucked you so mind numbingly rough that tears streaked down your cheeks, your high pitched sobs and cries to slow down were music to his ears. In the next breath, you'd beg him to never stop.

Your thighs quivered and shook as his balls slapped hard against your clitoris, his cock fucking into you so sinfully you were outright weeping. You shrieked when your orgasm peaked, splattering down your quaking thighs as you gasped and fisted the blankets desperately.

Art grit his teeth in concentration, feeling that overwhelming urge to unload himself within you. He placed a rough hand against your head and forced you downwards, his head tilting back and lips parting in bliss as his cock filled your crammed little hole with ropes of hot cum. His hips stuttered as each powerful rope shot out, your pulsating walls milking him and lapping up as much as it could before the excess spilled messily out of your pussy, around his girth and down his balls.

You were panting shallowly as he finished, unceremoniously dropped as his hands and body removed themselves from you. Cum dribbled out of your used hole, and you flushed darkly as Art righted your bunched up skirt, smoothing it back down over your ass and putting his cock back inside his costume as though he hadn't just decimated your body and mind brutally.

You pushed yourself up on weak arms, turning to face the cheeky grin of the clown who looked as pristine as ever, not at all out of breath and sweaty like you were. Art indicated to the forgotten movie on the screen, nodding over to the settee so that you could both take a seat and finish it, but upon taking a step forward your legs felt so shaky you thought you were about to collapse.

You stumbled forward and gripped his costume tightly, gravity making the thick, warm cum inside of you dribble down your thighs messily. Art outright laughed at your unstable legs, cooing down at you and winking at you slyly. He shrugged nonchalantly, raising his hands as though to say 'oops'.

You giggled up at him bashfully, feeling him lead you to the settee before you promptly flopped backwards onto it and spread your legs out over his lap. Art didn't mind, from how short your skirt was he got a good eyeful of your glistening, puffy pussy. It made him scoff darkly to himself, shaking his head.

"Oh, Halloweens on. This used to be my favourite film, I had a massive crush on Michael Myers for the longest time-".

Ah, there it was - your silly ramblings had started again, and Art cocked an eyebrow at your admittance, peering at the character on the screen who seemed to be choking a stupid teenage girl.

"--And I guess I do like Jason too but, I don't know, he never appealed to me as much as Michael--"

Art nodded along to your cute outburst, watching the way your eyes sparkled passionately. He smoothed a hand up your calf, smirking.

"--But Jason is so much faster than Michael, which is kind of attractive, you know, the whole predator/prey thing, and--"

Art raised both brows now, grin positively evil. You wanted to be chased, did you? Hunted down and captured like a victim? Interesting. He began to chuckle to himself, arms folded and turning in his seat so he could give you his undivided attention.

You felt your cheeks pinken at his look and realized you had probably admitted too much. From the way he wiggled his eyebrows, stare turning predatory, you knew he was plotting something.

"What? It can't be that surprising that I'd..kind of like to be on the receiving end one day. We hunt so many people, it must be hot being hunted," you sighed dreamily, hand reaching over to his and stroking it tenderly. It was rough and calloused.

"Especially by you. That would be..", you paused, biting your lip in a sultry display. You imagined the scene: Him undoubtedly capturing you and having his way with you. You could feel heat blooming in your abdomen. "-Exhilarating. I-Ive thought about it a few times.", you shrugged softly, embarrassed. You struggled to meet his gaze, but when you finally did, it made your breath hitch.

Long gone was that teasing grin, instead replaced by a stern austerity, eyebrows low and shadowing his dark, smouldering eyes. He chuckled once, demonstrated by the way his shoulders lifted in amusement, but his face remained downright terrifying and blank.

You fluttered your eyes to your lap, crimson faced and fidgeting, rubbing soothing circles into his veiny, strong hand.

"Do you...like that idea? I-if not that's okay. It's weird. I shouldn't have said anything.", you trailed off vulnerably, uncertain. You struggled to decipher his moods when he wasn't smiling, and it scared you.

A firm hand gripped your chin, tugging it upwards to meet his fiery gaze forcefully. He was so close, suddenly leaning halfway over your body and with a deliberate, slow nod, he wanted to make it clear that he would very much enjoy that.

You bit your lip in nervousness despite his clear agreement, studying his expression cautiously, but a smile soon graced your lips as Art wiggled your chin fondly back and forth, offering a small smirk; He liked that idea.

Soon, your face brightened up, and you practically jumped at him and snuggled against his chest, his thigh between your own. "You make me so happy.", you whispered, sighing in delight as you watched Michael kill another teenage girl.

Art shrugged playfully, patting your head. You probably should have never admitted that fantasy to him. He'll chase you like you wanted, give you a little head start, but after that he'd treat you like a real victim. You'll be so terrified that you're shaking, having second thoughts about the ordeal.

Then he'd fuck you into the dirt like a whore, knife held too close to your neck, borderline cutting into your flesh. He wouldn't go too far - Some light cutting, some choking, a gun to your head. It was all relatively toned down.

Even still, no matter how much you begged and screamed and pleaded, you'd still hold that adoring infatuation for him. It made him tilt his head back fully, unhinge his jaw and laugh so violently it actually scared you.

You knew what he was. You knew the dark, unfathomable pit of evil inside of him would swallow you whole too, making you his victim one way or another.

You knew he wouldn't kill you, but that doesn't mean that he'd never torment you. These were facts that you simply accepted; you loved him, you didn't know if he was capable of such an emotion, but him keeping you alive and treating you tenderly now and again was enough for you.

It made your heart sing and your insides pulse with need. Leaning your head fully against his chest, you curled up against him as he almost naturally enveloped you in his arms, holding you close. You nuzzled into him and savoured the moment.

You couldn't wait for the future ahead. You couldn't wait to maim more people with him and make love to him in their blood. You couldn't wait to become his next victim.

The thought made you wet all over again.

#art the clown #art the clown smut #terrifier #terrifier smut #art the clown x reader #terrifier x reader #art the clown x you #terrifer x you #i like ass so readers ass is hot okay #also im craving him #the title basically means 'enchanting wickedness' btw. love fancy titles if you hadnt guessed by now

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