#though ive always had my doubts

[thelastchappie]

feel like the whole “ ‘tism/touch of the ‘tism” jokes have become too casual cuz tell me why i posted on my priv ig story ab me sitting weird like L from Death Note while im studying and one of my friends just replies with “Tism” like girl… idek if im autistic or not

[surreal-duck]

been in kinda a weird spot regards to my own art lately where nothing seems good enough or i feel like ive been on a downhill streak that ive barely touched my tablet since the year started except when its school related..,...., probably burnout from an entire year interning for animation and concept work i feel a bit lacking and falling behind wjhdhfjehd

[phagodyke]

aouuugh my uterus......

[todayisafridaynight]

Firstly, thanks so much for your patience with my ramblings haha, it's always an absolute pleasure to read your responses even if I get more unhinged with each one of mine! Of course, I'll continue to do my best with the wiki! (Actually, I think it's because of you that I noticed Daigo's age(s) were a year off haha, so thank you for that as well.)

I think you hit the nail on the head, and I adore how his relationships were executed in Y7 as well! I was initially a little bit apprehensive when trailers for 7 were coming out since RGGJo (and Mine, of course) were my favorite antagonists, and Jo is by far the character who's changed the most between games, but I can safely say both… Joes… are right up there for me.

I think a strong early subversion/conversion/something is that RGGJo really does just go and shoot up a rival office for attacking Arakawa (even though Arakawa was fine?). With Y7Jo, even though he's covering for Masato, the fact that's still the story Ichi gets told and he doesn't question it sort of speaks to Y7Jo having a similarly "protective" streak even if it's not actually what happened in that instance. That's also demonstrated in The Eye Scene as you mention later.

Like, I think that story is fairly clearly something he and Arakawa discussed. Masato got in contact with Jo first, and the mess Ichi tries to clear up when he comes in the morning after is indicative of a very long, stressful conversation between two people. Given Masato absolutely should not be smoking, process of elimination would suggest it's Jo. And it's a story they would've aimed to make as believable as possible, so the fact it is believable (Ichi being a bit gullible notwithstanding) says something to me.

For two characters who hardly even speak to each other onscreen (criminal btw), there's a lot to dig into when it comes to Arakawa and Sawashiro's relationship. That aside, I'm super excited to see you analyse Jo's psyche, and I can't wait to read it! I've been reading Japanese psychology texts myself and noticing a number of concepts that apply to Mine, but may apply to the Arakawas as well. There's a great deal I want to share once I get my thoughts in order.

I totally agree Mine's influence on RGGJo was the strongest of the three! I mean, y'know, that's why I acquired brainworms for RGGJo/Mine specifically. (Still 1000% going to commission you by the way when I've got my refs together + am not in danger of being unable to afford Gaiden and 8 lol). Sort of like with Masato and Daigo, I think characters who are clearly based on each other work quite well together even if it's seen as crack. You can come up with pretty compelling ideas trying to rationalize those similarities from a Watsonian perspective.

The devotion is absolutely the strongest point (having the exact same relationship tag for Arakawa and Daigo respectively + similar wording for it in the 15th anniversary book is a nice touch), but for me it's also what's done with it in terms of presentation. For both Mine and RGGJo you're supposed to believe they're actively working against Daigo and Arakawa's interests for most of the story.

And they probably kind of are, but they're convinced the pros outweigh the cons (as with the resort gambit, which you're remembering correctly!) Though it may not have the same effect nowadays for various reasons (spoilers, plot points becoming predictable on account of other games, etc), the devotion was originally supposed to be a twist.

There are other things, of course; they're both the "treasurers" of their respective organizations, they're both third-in-command of the Tojo and Omi, they're both talented people who possess overwhelming strength and influence and are regarded as geniuses (despite scenes to the contrary). If I wanted to reach design-wise, they've got mirrored ahoges, and Mine's "Legend" costume is probably based on characters like RGGJo and Nishiki. Their first cards were even officially stated to have synergy on account of their very similar skillset.

You end up noticing a lot of things like that if you're clinically insane like I am, but the one thing that's really stuck with me is that the render used for RGGJo's office is specifically a new render the Hakuho Clan office. It's missing the stuff that's supposed to be missing, the stuff Kanda broke, but only that. Mine's art collection, which is very personal to him as is also revealed in RGGO, is preserved in full.

There are a number of newly-rendered locations in RGGO and they could've just done that, or they could've picked any location that's not (imo) one of the most iconic, but I don't know why they didn't. And I don't know whether it was just convenience, whether it's simply meant to be reflective of them having similar tastes without being the same office, or whether it's just honest to God the same office. I mean, it's not like there's any reason to acknowledge it in-game.

But I think, in a weird way, that this is one of the things that carried over to Y7Jo alongside the devotion and The Eye Scene. A lot of people don't notice because there's so much going on in Y7's finale, but the Arakawa Family office the finale takes place in is specifically Y7Jo's office. And if you examine the Hakuho Clan office and the Arakawa Family office as spaces Mine and Y7Jo have created for themselves, there are very few aesthetic similarities other than being pretty tasteful two-storey offices, but both are, in their own ways, designed for companionship.

There is the obvious fully-stocked bar and main seating area in both, but that's sort of whatever, that's entertainment and hospitality. What really catches my eye, at least on the first floor, is that every piece of gym equipment in Mine's office comes in pairs; similarly, there's the pair of armchairs that are just by themselves behind Y7Jo's desk.

The second floor of Mine's office basically consists of only a TV, a table, and a set of couches, but I think the second floor of of 7Jo's is the more telling of the two. You walk upstairs from this very snazzy, richly decorated first floor (btw, like Mine's gym equipment and art, I would like to think the fact it's decked from top to bottom with books isn't just for show) to a second floor that consists of… absolutely nothing.

Nothing except another pair of armchairs, echoing those on the first floor, facing out into this gorgeous (RGGJou would--and has--said "romantic") view of Kamurocho. Maybe it's just to have this dramatic, spacious arena for the very last fight, but I just think that visual is potentially such a strong bit of storytelling via set dressing.

I also think with RGGJo being split into Y7Jo and Masato, some of the Mine influence kind of ended up with Masato too, specifically as Aoki. At least insofar as all the catastrophizing about not truly being cared-for despite evidence to the contrary, and I kind of felt like the moment where he shoots at and narrowly misses Ichi's head, then throws his gun away for a good ol' fistfight was Something.

Completely agree on your assessment of the link to Nishiki as well! There's the surface level design similarities with young RGGJo back when he had long hair and accessorized less, but yeah, no notes. I definitely think Y7Arakawa's line applies perfectly to the dynamic they were going for, too.

I thought the implication was that Masato wouldn't have survived at all in RGGO on account of Arakawa being unable to open the locker, but it's super interesting to think about how things might've turned out otherwise! A Masato who's Just A Guy and treated sort of like RGGO Mitsu's offscreen wife and kid is such a concept.

I really do hope there's a continuation to the story; as it stands, it literally ends with Jo in a coma lol. But I'm grateful RGGO is still accessible and actively updated, in comparison to the previous mobile titles, which also had original stories that are all gone now.

Jo was actually in a very recent event, even. The event spent its whole runtime talking about how cats are sensitive to smell, and evidently, according to the ending, Jo is incredibly sensitive to smell himself. I'm not sure which Jo it was even supposed to be since he was offscreen, but uh, catboy confirmed? Nyawashiro…? It's fun trivia.

Mentioning Arakawa's "sons" line in such close proximity to talking about Tsutsumi reminds me! There was this Y7 interview with all three actors (that has since been privated and that I kick myself every day for archiving) where Nakai and Tsutsumi were talking about how they usually play father and son.

So there's this very, very long history of them co-starring (as I'm sure you're aware lol), like from way back when Tsutsumi's voice was actually higher. And I think the casting choices absolutely are informed by the history and context there, both as individuals and as co-stars, both in terms of filmography as you say and not.

One particular anecdote that just Gets Me is that this was Tsutsumi's first time voice-acting, and he honestly wasn't even sure he'd take the role, but he accepted once he heard Nakai was on board. And he went on to actually enjoy it so much he read the rest of the (gargantuan) script, far beyond his own dialogue, and ended up forgetting the lines to the play he was doing at the time.

He also went on to voice-act a second time in The Deer King, where he plays… another iintimidating man with a violent reputation and a "soft"/deeper side (who is of course a reluctant father), actually. I actually have seen most of his other roles, and Jo really is almost one-of-a-kind. Though it's hard to find any one character he's "like," I can absolutely see what you mean with regard to Oda Nobunaga and Kanda.

I think that actually really works with regard to audiences having an idea of what to expect from his character and to an extent from Y7 if you look Jo as more of a culmination of Tsutsumi's career up to that point. In addition to what you've mentioned already, I also detect a lot of Koda (Good Luck!!) and Ogata (SP)'s themes with regret and making amends and vengeance in particular.

There's a little bit of Appare (Kagerou Touge) and Shibata (Keiho) too, I think, in terms of presenting yourself as worse than you actually are. And I think Tsutsumi's own struggles with mental health lend a lot of gravitas to characters like Ishigami (Suspect X) and Jo, who you can't really argue Isn't Depressed, especially at present.

And of course, y'know, he's played yakuza (to great effect), he's played dads (to great effect; btw, I would say the worst fathers/father figures he's played are probably in Fable II and My Blood & Bones in a Flowing Galaxy, Jo somehow doesn't even compare lol). Also, pretty much every Tsutsumi character either ends up dead or in jail, being a villain in an RGG game notwithstanding. There are often very strong critiques of police and politics present in his work as well, Y7 being no exception.

It's similar with Nakai, maybe to an even greater extent than with Tsutsumi, since Y7 borrows more heavily from his works and his personal life aligns surprisingly well with Arakawa's. They're both actors who are sons of actors, lost their fathers at a young age, were raised by abusive mothers, and ended up with a sort of unlikely father figure in adulthood. So I think it's sweet that Nakai ended up enjoying Arakawa as much as Tsutsumi did Jo. It's kind of funny being more or less typecast as a dad without actually having any children (unlike Tsutsumi), though.

I touched on it a tiny bit before but that's a really insightful take on RGGJo's splintering, as well! And you're most welcome. I've always found it fascinating just how closely their backgrounds tie in to who they end up being. I completely agree having his dad around did a lot for Arakawa in terms of having the confidence to stick to his guns.

But yeah, you know, it's just tragic. I think it's also one of the less talked-about ways abuse can perpetuate itself. Because Jo treating Ichi the way his father may have treated him is sort of the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the topic, but Jo's learned avoidance also goes on to make Arakawa a scapegoat for Aoki's abuse.

I'm always a fan of your takes and insights, so I don't mind the wait: thank you so much for writing as much as you have, it's really wonderful being able to discuss Jo and RGGO v. Y7 as a whole! (I have to be embarrassed about the Daigo's-Age bit though: I'm glad I was able to help point it out, but I remember being so sassy and rude in the post where I mentioned it 😭)

It's great that despite their differences, both Jo's are still incredibly enjoyable; the roles each Jo fulfills, although different, are still executed in ways that keep the character in a close beat with each other, but of course effectively fill out their new purposes in new interesting ways!

As a bit of an aside, I've always been curious and nosy about the full details about New Years Day, 2001 and what happened after that. Anything I can say about the night tiptoes more into theory territory than anything solid, but if we're to go off the notion Masato really did head straight home afterwards, then it is fair to assume Jo had to have met with Arakawa that same night not long after the call in order for Arakawa to be ready to talk to Ichi the same morning (it must have been the biggest shock afterwards for Masato to hear he's gotta run to America if the three of them didn't talk about it together- which I'm assuming is what happened since, as you said, Masato shouldn't be anywhere near cigarettes, and the ash tray is definitely indicative of a stressful discussion). BUT Jo's preexisting devotion to Arakawa (plus the nod to/rework of RGGJo actually attacking a rival gang) nonetheless definitely helped in making their story digestible to the people they had to tell.

The fact Jo and Arakawa interact so little on screen really is unfortunate, even if it's understandable as to why. At the very least, I'm grateful there's so many bits of context clues through the game/s that can at least offer a peak into their dynamic! Segwaying away from that though, I can't lie I was already thinking of some bullet points regarding Jo's brain as I was falling asleep, so it's definitely something I want to put to paper when I get to: I'm glad to hear I have your interest on it when I write it! In that same vein, I'd be more than happy as well to hear about these notes you've seen that can apply not only to Mine, but to the Arakawa family. As you note later on, Mine and Aoki share similar philosophies, so I'd love to see your full take on that if you get to it!

About Mine though, it was really hard for me not to joke about the two being similar whenever the chance arose: I mean, two men who lose their fathers (admittedly, Jo chose to leave his dad but Dad Lost is still a bullet point on the venn diagram... that now I actually feel like taking the time to make later...) turn out to become their respective clan's most trusted asset (and handler of assets) who are volatile when it comes to the ones they care about (I don't have to clarify Mine, but as for Jo, aside from The Eye Scene and even the book wording, he definitely overreacts to Ichi having Masato's money. Of course, part of his anger could be due to his belief in the honor of being a yakuza, but I wouldn't say it's a reach to also assume that the idea of Ichi pestering Masato- if not assuming the worst for whatever reason from Ichiban of all people- might have irked him) and ironically act out in ways that would go against what the ones they care about want (more so strictly about RGGJo, of course)- it's hard not to see the notes borrowed from Mine to make Jo. In that, I do really enjoy their devotions being twists; even if that twist might not work nowadays as efficiently, I'll still enjoy it for what it's able to provide and how it can deepen a character.

To continue on to visual similarities, I actually did notice RGGJo's office being the same as Mine's (I stopped reading for a bit just to make a mini thread about it on my private Twitter)! Whether it was intentional or a simple reuse of assets, it's a great nod to Mine's influence on his character.

As for Y7Jo's office in comparison to Mine's- if I may accidentally go on a bit of an analytical rant- it's a little funny how different they are despite being tangential in wanting a space for companionship (like you mentioned for Jo's case, it might have been for dramatic purposes, but it wouldn't hurt to try and examine the room at face value for a second).

Mine's office is comparatively brighter and more apparently inviting, and it's not just due to the nighttime setting of Jo's office as his office's walls are painted black- but at the same time, the contrast almost feels intentional. Mine's apartment, even if spacious, has the social pieces close to each other, especially in relation to his personal desk. On the flip side, Jo's desk is considerably isolated away from the grand table in the side of the room. In these differences, I think it does lead to a great representation of their relationships with people and what they wanted out of life: with Mine, despite wanting people to be close to him and in his proximity, he's ultimately alone and by himself. On the contrary, Jo appears satisfied with- at least- only having Masato in his life, the second chair undoubtedly being honorary to Arakawa in a similar vein. He isn't too concerned with getting close to anyone else, thus no need for his table set to be so nearby. I could just be talking about nothing though- yet I think these differences is a great way to show how despite inspiration from Mine, they divide off into different characters still (honestly I might steal from this ask and make a separate post about this because now I've gotten myself invested in set design- it can go in the same post as my venn diagram I guess lmao).

Nevertheless, RGGJo and Mine borrowing from each other design wise is also another fun bit- it's as if Yokoyama's grabbing people by the shoulders and practically begging us to realize Jo's influenced by him (don't worry Mr. Yokoyama, I see you). Ergo, Y7Jo and Masato being split from RGGJo is such an interesting take of the two characters: it not only helps highlight Jo's traits it really also heightens Mine's extended influence on Masato (their inability to shoot people standing still is probably going to be a new favorite comparison I hadn't noticed before LMAO).

Moving on though, that lost interview with Nakai and Tsutsumi's going to haunt me now: I'd love to be able to see it, I love actor interviews, especially when the actors featured are already so familiar with each other! It's so sweet how connected the two are- it's what makes it a little more unfortunate that we didn't get to see Jo and Arakawa on screen together more. On that note though, I actually had a similar conclusion that Jo was a solid representation of Tsutsumi's career thus far: his ability to play deep and sentimental characters that have a rough exterior while also possessing some action to the role that he initially sought after in his career really encapsulates his ability as an actor! All in all, I'm glad that Nakai and Tsutsumi were able to have strong connections to their characters in Y7- and I can't really argue against Nakai's dad-typecast: there's just something about him that screams 'father' to me even if, ironically as you said, he isn't a father to any kids.

[holytrickster]

honestly i get embarrassed i don't have like. a single other interest I'm as into because i just know everyone around me is probably sick of it

[gangplanksorenji]

An Ethical Consideration.

Pairing: IVE’s Yujin x Male Reader

Word Count: 9,124

A/N: The last fic of 2024. Been wanting to write some office-related stuff right now and glad I had the time to do so. Hope y'all like this quick piece of mine and cheers onto the next year ahead! <33

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The weight on her shoulders is the sum of her choices, and it bears the burden of being intact and to be precise eloquently. She’s often mistaken as a model due to her undeniably stunning pulchritude from head to toe as well as her clever mind that's just the cherry on top, and you can’t deny that, but the thing is, she’s a power lesser than you since you’re the more omnipotent one.

Your ego refuses to let her crumble down your defenses whenever you fall for her natural charms and whatnot, yet again, you can’t deny that. Mainly, it doesn’t help with the nature you have with her, always used to assert dominance.

Despite all of these egotistic approaches and hypocritical advances, you still treat her as a human because you’re not that cruel of a person, and even so, letting her be the first one to know what you have in plan for today.

“Schedules, again, Yujin.”

“All over? Today? To—”

“Yes.” You look at her, fixing your necktie with a stern stare that possibly intimidates her. “And yes.”

Standing a little awkwardly beside you, Yujin mutters each of your endeavors, an occupation that seems to strangle the concept of time.

“At 1 P.M., you’ll have a meeting with Mr. Kim and his colleagues, and that will take an hour and a half, presumably. Then, at 3 P.M., you’ll be in a—”

“Wait, wait, Yujin.” She gulps nervously with your words, possibly a little nuanced from what’s her usual demeanor until you chuckled a laugh.

“You are really something else, Yujin.”

She composes herself with her eye contact with yours, and you replied with a mutual action as your reassuring tone possibly relieves her. “W-What do you mean, sir?”

“Come on, I’m just playing with you—you don’t need to repeat it all but you’re just…” You look at her, from her doe eyes to her black heels, and then paint that smile you know that she always loves to see. “A different breed, I guess.”

Yujin smiles, knowing this is all a test and completely reassured. She continues assessing the paperwork lying on the desk and you watch her amusedly, clearly admiring her determination and this little interaction etches a note down your brain.

These are one of her struggles being your secretary, and it’s often making her question her every move nowadays since your mood is often played inside a Russian roulette. Yet on your side, it’s clear that you like to see the subtle anxiety in her eyes and your little, silly fantasies that possibly annoys her.

“Also, one thing, Yujin.” She looks at you, eyes full of anticipation.

“Yes, sir?”

“You can drop the paperworks.” You gesture it with your hands, a smile vibrant towards her even though it’s evidently simple, and she can’t help but feel relieved with your words. “Treat yourself a little, alright?” 

A simple token of gratitude is what made her smile that gleefully. At long last, she won’t be worrying most times, beating herself into that stress that’s always inevitable whenever she’s in your vicinity but it doesn't eliminate the fact that she’s still incredibly doubtful.

“I don’t understand, sir.”

“I mean it, Yujin.” You draw yourself closer but not too much, then stare at those brown orbs of hers to make her feel the sincerity of your words. “Don’t worry for me, for now. Make yourself comfortable, okay?”

She nods and is clearly being reassured with your words. She thanks you for the little token of gratitude, bows at you and walks swiftly immediately, not before stopping on her tracks with her name coming out of your lips, her eyes intrigued. “By the way, come to my office later at 5 P.M., I’ll show you something and don’t worry, you won’t be in any trouble.”

Well, that doesn’t help her at all but your reassuring tone was the indicator, to say the least.

---

You’re just hoping she gets to use her time in the best ways possible, for every second should be worth her time, and you’re just waiting patiently for her and what’s bound to possibly happen.

Frequently checking your watch, you patiently wait for her as the rook takes your queen, near with your king and that’s another checkmate. You’re killing time playing chess online, and knowing you’ll still have some time to spare allows you to decide on this.

“Wow, he’s good.” You murmured as your focus is entirely invested onto what could be your next move as a knock on the door could be audibly heard.

“Come on in.” It’s enough to hear it, and there the figure goes into the room. There’s a high chance that Yujin’s the one that’s going to knock on the door at this given time, three minutes after the clock strikes five and damn right it is.

“Oh sir, I’m incredibly sorry—”

You snap and she shuts herself, eyes wide and a gulp evident. “Don’t apologize, Yujin—take a seat instead.”

Once she hurried to take a seat, you fixed your collar, and composed yourself to possibly intimidate her. Here it starts, and your choice of words reflects the outcomes that may happen.

“You really do surprise me sometimes, Yujin.” Your voice is so close to being unreadable that even Yujin takes a hard time to decipher it. She’s matching your disposition, and clearly anticipating more. “You’re still into those things that we used to do?”

Fuck. Something clicked in her, and she instantly knew the sole reason for her appearance here.

She still denies it, knowing there’s no evidence of the assumption but you know she’s back to her clandestine roots. “S-sir, I can assure you that I’m over whatever you’re possibly thinking.”

“Oh please, Yujin, stop with the lies—”

Knowing how retaliation with words and the defensive approach could absolutely result in anything going against her way, she would opt for an option that could possibly bear the best of outcomes. “Then what is it, sir? What’s this assumption all about?”

She’s slowly raising her tone, failing to cover up her permeating defensiveness as you gestured to calm her down, and let yourself be heard as she’s in clear of any trouble. 

“Yujin, me personally—I’m just saying that I was genuinely baffled that you’re still into that.” Your words work like a charm, getting more loosened up as the soothing atmosphere really eliminates the fact that about denial and lies. “If it’s the others, you could’ve landed onto something hard on the surface but not for me.”

Her gaze fixated towards you with your last words, a smirl curling up your lips as you can see the comfort within her. Yet, there’s still a question lingering in her mind that she can’t contain any longer. 

She gave up knowing it’s not worth it to put a nail on a coffin, yet rather, open it up. “How’d you know, sir?”

She's still anxious and it’s completely normal even with the possibly platonic relationship you’ve built with her because at the end of the day, you’re the one in control, a higher hierarchy. “Well, it’s quite simple, actually?”

There’s probably glint in her eyes, running up the possible reasons of a secret unshackled as her career is probably flashing before her eyes, knowing how your sugar coating is absolutely deceiving at most times. “How s-simple, sir?”

She’s stuttering but that didn’t stop you, and it’s cruel to know how bittersweet these events can get but you need to address it, and add a possible way to bring something back to life.

You push the seat away from you as you stand up, now going towards her and breaking that suspense that’s lingering right from the start when she steps foot onto your office. “Wonyoung reported me about your naughty desires when all eyes aren’t watching you, clearly moaning my name and still fantasizing about me, hm?”

Oh, the sabotage. You know how it can possibly hurt her to hear those words come out of your mouth, but that’s the truth and right when Yujin is coming to defend her actions, you pull up a trick on your sleeve that could easily dismantle her attempts to dismiss the truth.

The recording plays, loud and clear, her voice calling you lustfully and god, it’s breaking her, piece by piece.

“Wha—”

“It’s hard, Yujin—I know, but at least keep it within yourself probably, you know?” Now, you’re just hitting her critically, opposing the reassurance you enlightened her with earlier. She’s looking down, defeated and apologetic and you’re sympathetic with her vulnerable state. “Oh please, look at me, Yujin.”

You inch closer towards her, tilt her chin up, looking at you endearingly with a plea loud in each second she stares at you, as you continue. “Enjoy your break, Yujin. We’ll talk later for more. I’m clearly disappointed.”

You give her way towards the door as she stands up quickly, on the verge of tears, sniffling with a loud thud of steps. As she’s about to reach for the door handle, your voice interrupts her, feeling like a deja vu from earlier. “Clearly disappointed to know I wasn’t there to aid you.”

Those words struck hee like lightning, piercing through her like a sword as it hit too well, letting her feel rivaled and frozen. You walk towards her, a smile curling up your lips as she turns around with a quizzical expression. “What do you mean, sir?”

“You know what that means, Yujin.” Your hands are quick to pull her dangerously close toward you, making her yelp with your actions and she’s clearly processing what’s currently happening yet jovial knowing this could end up something elevated that what she was expecting.

You’re now facing her, nose a mere inch away as you whisper. “Now let me show you what you really need.”

God, it’s a sight to behold. You immediately pull her and latch your lips with hers, exchanging torrid pecks that define the hunger and deprivation between the both of you.

You’ve been in your cage for so long and for the longest time possible, you missed these moments with Yujin and you can’t let that opportunity slide. You tug onto the hem of her blazer as you admire her outfit, and teased with how it’s clearly against the dress code. “Feeling really stylish, as always.”

“Hope you liked it, sir.”

“I really do, Yujin.” Then, you continued with the sloppy exchanges, clearly savoring each second you latch onto hers as her plum lipstick accentuates her given scrumptious taste, letting you yearn for more and she reciprocates so swiftly.

It was a quick descent and possibly all according to plan, but you can’t deny the fact that a possible friendship can be ruined between such close friends, but for now, all these things are set aside as your focus is entirely averted towards Yujin.

One, two—fuck, she’s a great kisser.

And so are you, possibly.

---

These events really took a wild turn, and not even two minutes of such a lustful exchange, comes the comfortability of both parties, even descending down to the madness of lust, and the first victim that falls onto that is Yujin, clearly vocal about how she missed getting that taste of your succulent shaft.

“You really want to suck my cock, huh?” She can’t help herself with the thoughts in her, absolutely telling her to give in to her carnal desires and she does so.

Yujin just falls onto her knees, a loud thud audible as she can’t help herself but just be drunk with the thought of slobbering all over your length. “Please, sir—I need your cock—to taste it.”

“Wrong name, Yujin.” You tug her ponytail, earning a yelp from her as bites her lips, subtly liking the way you’re rough on her.

“Sorry, daddy—I just can’t help it…” And so, you gave her mercy, even with just the precious seconds left to spare.

You smirk, looking down and eventually seeing the lust behind those adorable, doe-like eyes that resembles how she’s undeniably ruinable whenever she pulls up this look.

“Oh, Yujin…” You lift her head up with a finger on her chin, chuckling as your sinister plans are starting to choreograph the possible actions you can do to ruin your secretary on your professional grounds as this can be considered somewhat ethical at your own words. “I’m going to make you choke all over my dick so bad that the only thing you’ll remember on the whole day we’re here is the taste of it, and mark my fucking words.”

Fuck. Yujin mutters and gulps, because your tone permeates sincerity and there’s no way on god’s green earth you’ll never fulfill those promises, not when Yujin is kneeling down so submissive and entirely begging to be sullied.

“That’s what I want to hear, daddy.”

The falling consonants escaping her lips ignites something within you, and you’re throbbing just hearing her voice being sultry, aching to be freed. You are unable to take it anymore, and Yujin knows how much you need to be relieved even if it gets so risky. “Do the honors, my Yujin, now.”

You’re really demanding, and she fulfills it within a heartbeat.

Yujin unbuckles and frees every bit of clothing that deprives her with the view of insatiability, hungry and yearning to get herself a hold of her desired prize. She’s swift and deft with it, hands skating through the confines like it’s nothing and that’s what you like about her—the lingering confidence that no one else can match, and she’s bold and audacious with a care towards you only. As selfish as that sounds, why would it matter when it’s Ahn Yujin that’s in front of you and possibly, worshiping you.

The last bit of defense, your boxers, and it’s going to be deemed useless as her hands tug on it and give you that submissive look. “Promise me that you’ll be rough for me, daddy.”

There are two reasons why is this extremely rhetorical: first, with a girl oozing with hotness and a body built to be ruined, how can you not think of something so ludicrous and utterly aiming to ruin her living life out of her; and second, preferably last, she always wants to be pounded and controlled to oblivion, putting in her place, just like the usual pursuits that sparks the risk.

“Always, Yujin—now get that lips on my cock now—want to feel it.” Again, it’s commanding and she likes it a lot.

The encapsulation of her lips around your purplish crown meets the inevitability of moans coming from your lips, her hot, wet flesh being too euphoric to handle. You can bear with the gratification, of course, but the way that she’s applying the pressure whenever her cheeks hollow and the plumpness her lips provide would like to have a word. It feels like your cock is made for her to suck, and she proves it with every second she spends her precious time with, a slobbering mess all over your length. She was quick to be messy, spit already seeping out of her mouth as she held your thighs for a support with her rapidly increasing pace. 

“Jesus, Yujin—this hungry for my dick? Really this bad—fuck!” The question was quick for her to be registered yet she chooses to ignore it, occupied with the devotion of giving the utmost pleasure and fulfilling her needs of tasting you.

“I asked you a question, didn’t I?” You tugged her hair, a statement to consider as she pulls away from your saliva-sheathed shaft and catches her breath.

“Yes, daddy—I want y—mmh!” All you need to hear is a single yes to conclude the satisfaction within you and the want in her. She’s quickly muted with your sudden impalement, making her hands grab onto your thighs as she eagerly bobbed her head to prove that she can match your roughness. You grit your teeth, looking down at the sight of a lifetime, groaning with Yujin’s actions as her eyes gaze at yours through the reflection of her glasses, scanning your expressions to tell if you’re loving this or not.

Why would that be a question within her when you’re already moaning with her suction wringing the best bits of pleasure possible? Guess people have their own ways of assurance and Yujin’s ways are something you’d always commend—she always loves to ensure things even if it’s already confirmed to be certain.

When your tip hits the back of her throat, nose flushed onto your lower abdomen and her glasses slightly pressed, that’s when you uttered the hottest moans imaginable, feeling her oral assaults are a battery to invigorated the lust within you.

“God—fuck—how are you always feeling so good, Yujin?” You hands caress her ponytail as she ensues her pace, rightfully sullied then pulling out to state the rhetorical within you.

“Maybe because I’m a sucker for daddy’s cock, that’s why.” The choices of words were simple, yet hot and it’s the way that she delivers it too. Yujin flashed a smile before indulging onto your length again, stroking your base as her hunger speaks loud and clear, actions rapid and pleasurable.

The scene alone inside your office is something like in the pornogrpahic videos that tells the tale of fiction and what’s on the camera yet this is real, as the insatiability between the both of you drew towards this madness. Knowing that you keep your promises and wanting to make things elevated, you flashed a sinister smile before tapping Yujin’s cheeks poking with your length, and then she pulled out yet again, whimpering with the sudden depravity.

“What now, daddy?”

“I’m going to make a mess outta you, starting with this tight throat.” Your words are laced with lust and the venom that stings her to bite onto your commands, and eagerly anticipates what you’ll do next. You take a hold of your wet length and direct it inside her tightness yet again, groaning with how warm and pleasurable it is before grabbing her head with both hands and thrusting with an already moderate pace. 

She wants it rough, right? Then you’ll give it to her, even if it takes to break you as long as you get to ruin her innocence and that existing class within her.

She gags when it hits too deep, yet she doesn't stop you, taming her reflex as you invite you with more, digging her hands onto your hips and urging to take what her limits can. She’s fighting you, closing her shut and tight as she takes you was the notion that she’s already reaching her limitations, yet this is not what you trained her for and she knows it.

Without further to do, you let yourself be the one to expand her horizons of the inevitable domination all over her, and this time, you’ll be berserk.

“Open your fucking mouth, Yujin.” You let her jaw be slacked, up for the taking as you relentlessly pound her tight throat, fulfilling your needs and deeply disheveling and leaving her sullied once she leaves the office doors. You pinch her nose, playing with the risky game between asphyxiation and god, she’s struggling and constantly gagging onto your rapid length.

“You always love my cock balls deep into your slutty throat, don’t you?” The mocking gets into her, nodding frantically as your words spill the truth, nothing even close on being a lie.

Yujin’s cheeks flushed red, struggling for oxygen as you let go, letting her breathe through her nose and with a pocket of relief, she took your whole cock with an invigorated stance, standing her ground and not letting herself break. You tug onto her ponytail, surprisingly still bonded even with your relentless pace and ruthless actions and it’s just a great element for leverage, elevating the ruined look she emanates all for your eyes to see, and the glasses she’s constantly wearing is just the cherry on top. She digs her fingers onto your thighs, spit seeping out of the crevices of her mouth and your cock, coating the vicinity of skin around your length.

She wanted this anyway, and you’re just warming everything up.

Her ruined countenance is a sight to be etched within your deepest lobes in your brain, for it’s something stupendous and incredibly monumental. She ruins her own clothing and gags repeatedly, yet it doesn’t matter because as long as you’re molding her throat with the shape of your cock, then you’d say you’re in a triumphant run of domination over Yujin. “Take it all for me, Yujin—god, t-this fucking throat is way too good.”

You can vouch and it’s incredibly factual. You’d want to just warm up your shaft for the magnitudinal display of pleasure that’ll happen later (and it’s going up her tight cunt) yet her throat and her lips would like to speak up, or maybe even adding up to the mess you’re making right now.

Pick a side, and you can’t, but you have to decide yet the pleasure coursing down within you is putting you in a position of indecisiveness.

You continue the ruthless assault against her mouth, chanting her name while you do what you’re best at and your sincere praises towards her is just the cherry on top. Usually, she would be writhing her arms with subsequent gags resonating all over the room but it's surprisingly and genuinely impressive how she takes you better now, yet not the perfected craft you sought her to be and you wouldn’t complain. 

There’s also an additional element of lust that elevates the oral experience, and you cared to address that because of how hot it actually makes her, even more than what you expected.

“Not going to take those off, huh, Yujin?” You cool down your thrusts and let Yujin have the capability to control her pursuits, impaling her with more of what you can offer she pulls out to answer you, catching her breath and painting such a vibrant smile that contradicts the sexual tension lingering in the air.

Her mouth is utterly messy, saliva drips down to her chin as her insatiability towards you didn’t even bother the tiniest bit of modesty to even clean up. “I’d like to see how much you’ll cum knowing this does turn you on more.”

She knows. She fucking knows you. The way she said it so confidently with the smirk painted on her face says a lot, knowing that she’s just inflicting on the wounds of lust within you. She cracks the code open with your subtle kinks that’s profoundly known by her and immediately, she would live up to those fantasies of yours—it’s actually baffling how she knew your little fetishes that no one else can, and she’s absolutely clever reading you like a book.

“You know that I’ll probably destroy these glasses, Yujin.” The warning is audible, falling onto her ears as she continuously teases your tip with her tongue, before setting your insatiability aside and muttering up a reply.

“You probably can consider that you’ll fuck my mouth like it’s my cunt.” She’s not wrong, though, and certainly, that’s bound to happen. “And just so I know, you’re going to give me another set once these are broken because I’m something special, am I?”

It’s a blessing and a curse whenever she gets too cocky—her permeating confidence knowing her words exhibits the truth and it won’t help for your supposed reasonings, yet sometimes, her limits wouldn’t help her much, not when you still have the authority to be in control with a flick of a switch.

“Damn right it is, Yujin… You gave up and relinquished the truth, but you can’t wait up any longer for what’s the reason behind this sinful mess. “Now shut up and let me fuck your mouth.”

“Oh pl–mmh!” It was a mistake once she parted her lips enough to impale her with your cock, yet it’s all bound to happen and embraces every thrust your hips muster. 

The opportunity is taken, instantly ravaging her mouth like it’s your last, tugging on her ponytail that’s holding on thanks with your vice grip onto it. She’s tearing up as you ensued and put her in her place, managing eye contact towards you with a silent plea laced behind those glinting orbs of her for more. She’s gripping your thighs, a leverage that’s still not enough for her to handle your roughness and god, her hands digging you for more tells exactly how she doesn’t want the pace to dissipate.

She’s crazy for this, and you’ll match that freak of hers.

It hits balls deep every time, her glasses almost slipping out and being crushed with your own weight of force being distributed to this sinful endeavor. She grasps your thighs like she’s bound to break, and you’re going to achieve that yet she’s robust and able to take you for she is capable of your pace even with the evident gags and subsequent grips that could probably bruise your skin. 

Your pace never fails to bring her to the weakest, tears flowing down her cheeks as she indulges under your control and you’ll never falter, not when you had enough. The way her throat tightens up once you push your length deeper always sends yourself closer to the promising heights of euphoria and god, she’s just taking everything your hips oscillates. She’s just getting messier with every second that counts, yet she perseveres to prove her worth despite the apparent struggles.

And she delivers, every inch, every thrust, and every goddamn gag—

You pull out and she’s gasping for oxygen, her reddened face tells the story of your roughness and she just flashed a grin, her satisfaction fulfilled choking on a cock like yours.

“God, you’re so fucking messy, Yujin.” Your swears ignites something in her and it’s such a gem to hear profanities coming out of your mouth, because she knows she’s making you crazy and this was just the start of an exhilarating show. You wipe the saliva that escapes out of her mouth and seductively play with those lips of hers, and she knows what’s the reply of such display of lust.

She didn’t waste her breath to mutter a word, but rather, invest in constant hums as she sucks onto your fingers like a lollipop, enveloping that soft flesh and tasting like the sun won’t come up tomorrow. The voracious assault onto your fingers concludes her insatiability towards you, and she’s trying her best to live up to her desires and selfish pleasures.

As she’s incredibly readable, you could only imagine how soaked her cunt is with all of the lingering intimacy.

“God, please—more, daddy—please let me—”

“No.” You caress her cheeks and look at those eyes full of that lustful glint, preparing for what you could possibly do with her. Help her stand up and pin your arms so her back is pressed against the wall, your stare continues to pique her as it lures her in like a trap. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Yujin. Since you took me so well, I might have to consider something to aid your wrongdoings.”

A cunning smile paints you, as her eyebrows furrow in anticipation as her lust puppets her to desperation. “A-And what is that, daddy? Please, I’ll do everything even if it means more than what you can expect of me.”

“Expect? Hah.” A chuckle escapes your lips, and that puzzles Yujin. She’s laughable at that moment given how she’s mostly the epitome of fulfillment, the clear meeting of expectations. “Gladly enough, everything that I could think of links every missing piece so perfectly.”

That’s the beauty of An Yujin—clearly innocent yet determined for every obstacle that gets in her way, even if it means something unethical. But here’s the thing, you orchestrate what’s the order in this room and have the authority to bend what’s considered to be rightfully taken.

In this case, it’s something way too obvious.

“The question is: where do you want it, Yujin?” 

Once those words were said, her eyes immediately averted to your throbbing cock, rock-hard just for her as her hand seizes the opportunity yet you stop her. “Answer me, Yujin.”

“Inside me—just as long as I can feel it, feel you, daddy.” Now, you’ve just broken her and it’s all with a single kryptonite that she always loves to play with and it never fails her to be driven towards insanity.

“Oh, you really want it, huh?” The nod is evident and desperate, and you’re just igniting the fire to tease her further. “Bend over for me, on the desk.”

“But the documents—” Maybe the addressing of concerns should take place in a completely separate hour or day as you don't care if they’ll get all tangled in a huge mess because getting Yujin railed from behind will be your utmost priority. 

“I don’t give a shit, Yujin—we can rearrange them some time.”

“But daddy, it’ll be a—ow!” You’re fed up with her considerate actions because of your selfishness too, a grab on her wrists and a spank is enough to enlighten a statement within her.

Your eyes penetrate daggers through her, and it’s turning her on even more. “I really hate repeating myself, Yujin.”

You really do, and with the grip immediately loosening, she obliges and gets rid of such paperwork and bends over your main desk without any care but you.

“Better. Fucking better.” 

You glance over the helpless, submissive stance Yujin is on, and you’re just running on the possible permutation you can possibly do with her. She holds onto each side of the desk while looking over her shoulder, eagerly anticipating what you have in store with you and you definitely have an abundance of tricks up your sleeves.

“Don’t look back and put your hands behind you, Yujin.” She’s quick and obedient, gladly compliant because this would definitely turn around worse for her if she wasn’t being one. You are quick to grab your belt and she knows what’s possibly going to happen, erratic breaths and chuckles coming out of her mouth are the signs of her building satisfaction.

“God, I always wanted to experience this while you ravage me senseless, daddy.”

“Great thing this is your lucky day.” You wrap your leather belt around her wrists and hold them in place, making sure that Yujin is as helpless as possible before the sinful act commences.

“Too tight?”

“Not really, it’s just right.” She yelps and cries because of a harsh spank as its hypnotic ripple earns that groan from her, deriving pleasure out of your enervating ruthless approach towards her ass. You raise the hem of her skirt up to her waist, and so are those grey-colored shorts just a little to get a delectable view of a backside that could be worth millions, and luckily enough, you’ll be the only to see the wonder of such treasure. 

Your hands roam around her arched butt and those heaven-sent thighs, feeling the smooth, porcelain skin in every inch that just feeds to the hunger you’re having towards her but you have your own composure, a word of modesty and patience that Yujin isn’t bothering to have at these desperate moments. “You know this dress code isn’t really allowed, hm?”

“How so? No one has ever called me out wearing short skirts like these—oh god, right there…” She’s delving nearer onto her breaking point, moaning with your repeated assault towards her supposedly drenched lips through the frustrating fabric, teasing and building up her lust while she fights to be as eloquent as possible. “You n-never said a warning, daddy, let alone implement a rule or a ch—ow! Ohh, fuck!”

“All I’m saying is that you’re being such a slut for wearing one, just to summarize it for you, Yujin.” Your words sting as much as the heavy hits of your palm, marking a familiar rosy hue onto her ass that earns that triumphant smirk on your face.

“But I know you like it, by a lot.”

“Never said I didn’t.” You’re growing impatient because of the possible things that’s running around your mind, and it’s all about how you can totally sully her.

Your eyes darts onto her perfect skin, before tugging onto her shorts which is surprisingly easy to undress, coming off and onto her ankles just with a few seconds (Yujin standing up quickly also helps) and then the last bit of defense against the inevitability—those ruined, black silk thong that’s drenched with juices. Also, those come off and down on her ankles and all of those kicked to god knows where as she can’t help but moan with the sensitivity she’s currently feeling, and she likes being defenseless and being totally handled by you.

She never looked great being incredibly submissive and she’s perfectly built to be like this.

Amongst all of the foreseeable futures that could happen, one by one they are eliminated, until only three had made it to the final cut as these are the things that can go so right for the both of you: you could curse her satisfaction with your fingers teasing her tight cunt, on the edge of breaking apart and make her cum effortlessly; could invest onto some returned favor, your lips eating those succulent holes of hers as she writhes with the wetness you bring; and lastly (being the most cruel and pleasurable act you can possibly do), a finger, knuckle deep into her asshole and teasing her tightness with your own length.

Yet, with all of the articulative thinking, you can’t help but let your patience run thin and do what you promised earlier on—to let her see stars, ruin her entirely.

You nudge your cock onto her waiting heat, and immediately, you halt the agonizing reprieve as it is sheathed inside without a warning, knowing she can take it all despite her helpless state. At this rate, Yujin would be gripping both ends of the desk yet with the belt around her wrists and your hand holding her in place, she could just writhe and moan your name out uncontrollably as she gives everything in, and you control her.

Thanks to her slick juices, it wasn’t hard to accommodate yourself onto a moderate thrust that she grew accustomed to once you keep assuring and complimenting her, even if it comes out as a profanity.

“Not bad for a slut like you, Yujin—god, do you like this, hm?” You’re refraining to voice out how great she fucking feels around your cock, and let your mind savor the sight of her powerless figure dependent for your handling. 

“Yes, y-yes—oh fuck, yes, daddy—it’s so good, so good!” Her strained voice, stuttering and alluring is what invites you for a harsher pace. The both of you are mutually gratified with each other’s actions, and you can’t help but groan her name too in every thrust you do, now filling her up.to the hilt and withdrawing with just your tip inside. It is hard yet moderately paced, just how you like it for now, and knowing how this possibly defeats what Yujin likes, you don’t want her to wail and break apart within your own eyes.

Wait, she is calling you and pleading with you—that’s the sign, she wants more.

“Harder, daddy—please.” Of course you’ll fulfill that as soon as possible. You pull the belt towards you, letting her hands meet your abdomen and pound her tight cunt with a power greater than before. Every clash of your hips to her butt resonates this sound that’s the epitome of candy in your ears, and it’s just going to get better, knowing that with the profound kisses you do on her nape makes her clench even harder and wringing out the best of all pleasures.

She cries and you hum onto her skin, continuously worshipping her as her moans with your repeated actions set the fire in you, as well as her constant compliments that you know would be inevitable.

“You lips—g-god, you kiss me so good, daddy—oh shit…”

Your lips are dangerously close to her ears now, as you whisper, “And you take me so well—this tight cunt is really for my cock.”

Well, it probably is, considering how every thrust molds to the shape of your shaft lives up to your words. She’s incredibly tight and slick, even with the constant ravaging and it’s just getting way better knowing that she’s not showing any signs for you to slow down nor stop, letting you go berserk on living up to both your likings. It’s possibly painful to know that your eyes can’t get that hypnotic sight of her thighs rippling and as much as you like kissing her backside, you can’t afford to lose an opportunity with an angelic view.

“Grab the desk, Yujin. I’m gonna fuck you harder now.” Now loosening the grip of the belt around her wrists, she immediately leveraged with a painful grip onto each end of the desk as you didn’t slow down and continued your igniting fervor. She’s trembling once she grabbed onto both ends, thighs shaking due to your actions as her mouth spills honey-filled moans with the pleasure spiking up on her spine, and through her veins. 

Now, you have the everlasting sight to behold—the recoil of her skin with your thrusts is a vision to be etched within the deepest parts of your brain, and you’d live every moment seeing her like this. You painfully grip her hips, pounding her harshly to the point that the desk is even responding to your ruthlessness, but you don't care, not when she’s still coherent, able to walk and most of all, not cumming all over you.

These are just the multiple goals you'd eventually achieve, and it’s getting pretty near considering how her lips pulsate and drenches with copious amounts. She’s now creating a miniscule puddle onto the floor and the small rivulets on her thighs full of her nectar, and you’d eventually double that given how hard you’re fucking her and god, she’s crying and far from the An Yujin everybody knows.

“God, fuck—da-ddy, p-please—let me cum—let me cum, I’m s-so fucking close—oh god, oh god, p-please!” It continues like this, a jumble of words due to the skyrocketed pleasure she’s experienced and you know she’s dangerously close, and you’re just there to pull the trigger sooner.

She lets out a primal cry, and you seal her fate.

“Cum for me, Yujin.” Simple words yet enough to break a woman like her.

She’s practically gushing onto your fingers as you rub them out to reach her climax and she does so, spilling the borderline screams of pleasure that is caused by you, and she’s basically elevated way past her euphoric trance. 

Her knees tremble due to her orgasm, and whisper onto her ear while still pounding her through it since she wanted this in the first place. “You know, Yujin—I would have just fucked your tight ass if we have some lube, want to see your cunt gushing out while I ravage your tight hole.”

You’re not yet finished and your words immediately made her clenched so tightly that it made you groan in the middle of your sentences, but that doesn’t stop you from enlightening her with your fantasies. “God—both of your holes are fucking tight—guess I’d just make this pussy cum all over again while you could only imagine how my cock would slide so good inside you, hm?”

Your words do make her squirm uncontrollably, a key to the door of madness as you didn’t waste time increasing the pace and getting back to the roots of how this goes. Knowing how much you want her to reach another inevitable high, you opted for a leverage on her end, offering your fingers for her to such as she eagerly does so, tasting you and humming in need as every second passes by. You make her choke with your own digits, and she slurps each time she does so, yearning to impress you and to voice out how much she loves these miniscule actions to fight against the pleasure.

“P-Please, daddy…” She cries for you, letting her catch her breath as your thrusts are constant, deep, and unforgiving.

“Say i-it, Yujin—please for what?” You need that answer escaping those sinful lips of hers, you need it desperately, even if her voice is broken for all of the vocals she bestowed.

“Fuck—f-fuck me, daddy, please!” 

It’s the constant chant of the same sets of phrases and words and you can’t blame her, not when you’re absolutely fucking her like you do mean it. She can’t think straight, possibly seeing stars at this moment as her nectar spills into rivulets yet again, the mess currently spoiling the marble floor that didn’t concern you.

“My office is gonna smell like sex thanks to you, Yujin.” You let out that primal call, a satisfied one as her clenches aids more with the pleasure you’re currently experiencing. “And I’m—I’m fucking close, Yujin.”

The stream of constant moans ends up on a halt, as Yujin still has the coherence to think and break the loop of words, pleading as she tightens her grip on the desk. “On my face, please, daddy—you can’t cum inside me yet, not here!”

Oh, she now has this courage to utter words against your possible wants, and honestly, that’s commendable yet you didn’t like it and not when you’re in the peak of the hierarchy, in the absolute authority of things.

“And why not? Also, girls like you deserve a load inside their tight cunts, no matter what the circumstance.” No one could probably argue against you, not when her walls clench for you to fill her up, even though it’s against her wants yet again, you are the dominant one, the power to control and bend towards your will.

You didn’t utter a word and ramped up the pace again, and this time, you’ll do everything to feel every ounce of pleasure as much as possible. Yujin’s face contorts into that familiar countenance of being cock-drunken, yet you break that trance with a hand on her chin, making her face towards you and then again, you meet those luscious lips of hers that’s entirely insatiable.

You pull her close and continue to pound her tightness, humming on your reciprocation and her lips quivering in pleasure, chasing that high of yours that’s bound to spill into the depth of her tight walls. She tastes so great you can’t pull away just yet, closing your eyes and feeling how soft her lips are and when you do, you bring the final onslaught of thrust that’s possibly going to break her in half, moaning on how good you’re making her feel.

“Fuck—f-fuck, daddy—I’m gonna cum too—so close!” At long last, she’s a hair’s width onto her own high and being in the same boat as yours, and this couldn’t be any better.

“Fucking cumming again? Hah, then we’ll cum together then—gonna fill this pussy up so good, Yujin.” It’s surprising how coherent you are even though you’re as stimulated as Yujin but it doesn’t matter, not when your primal instincts are the ones that powers you to achieve that euphoria.

You dug your hand onto her hips, spreading her legs more to go deeper and god, you can’t possibly survive another set of thrusts on the count of five.

That familiar tingle firing you up was the call, and you impaled yourself deep into her snug walls, filling her with every spurt your slit can possibly deposit. She’s wailing, calling you and yearning for more as her brain can’t possibly fathom the utmost pleasure she’s experiencing and you’re just giving it all, giving what she desires right from the start.

She’s thanking you, a cry that could break you but in a different, unorthodox way that relies on the scope of lust. “Jesus—fuck, why are you always so goddamn tight, Yujin?”

It’s rhetorical and she knows it—she’s aware of what she can do to you, and even in a submissive frame, she can absolutely break you apart. You kept your length buried in her for a longer while, possibly extending the pleasure that’s beating your brain in a mush, and eventually, the inevitable could not be stopped. You pull out and let out exasperated breaths, admiring with the wonder of your roughness evident with your red handprints, and as the cherry on top, her cunt dripping with your anticipated load.

There’s still that gas left in the tank, a fuel burning and igniting for more and you can’t let it become idle.

“Thank—o-oh fuck—thank you for this, daddy…” Yujin’s chants are a constant ringing in your ear, her moans subsiding as she recovers from her own high, assessing how great you feel with your load deep inside her.

Your hubris never fails to fuel you up too, and you’re far from over.

“You remember me saying I’m going to fuck you rough, Yujin?” You’re demanding, incredibly primal and wanting more of what she can offer. She can sense it as she looks onto her shoulder only for you to guide her and flip her around, now facing you with your eyes evidently distracted with her leaking cunt. “And really mean it, because you're going to take more.”

Her eyes darted towards you, glowing, endeared, and laced with lust. She wanted this for weeks and now, she’ll get to feel your wrath once more, and this time, it would be way better than before since you’ll see how beautiful her face contorts whenever she succumbs to the pleasure, on even her moans to the very least.

It’s one of the robust parts of the pillars that builds up your concupiscence, and it’s the strongest amongst them all—her sultry tone says it all, and it’s just making you descend down to your own madness.

“Gonna breed me like the desperate girl I am, daddy?”

“Correction,” Your hands deftly find her waist, drawing her frame closer to you as she yelps with your sudden control, then smiles knowing she’s going to be put in her place. “A desperate slut.”

Yujin is still leaking, thighs stained in the right places with indistinguishable liquids caused by you and you’ll stand proud for the product you just made. Still with the skirt pulled up on her waist, you lifted her legs a little as she relaxes herself onto your desk—it’s pretty surprising how sturdy this is and probably, you’ll invest onto some greater furniture in the latter weeks, if ever—and teased your rock-hard shaft against those sullied, white-stained slit of hers, which earned another set of needy moans that’s clearly aphrodisiac in nature.

You’d never shut up how great she sounds, and you’re growing impatient by the second you tease her heat.

“Please, daddy—please put it in again…” Both of her arms extend down your shoulders, hands resting on your neck and caressing it, urging you to comply with her needs and she doesn’t need to plead more because you’re definitely in a losing battle of discipline.

Why would you even bother thinking of such a concept in this filthy endeavor? Yes, you won’t, and you’ll dismiss it.

It’s another sudden action, you buried deep, withdrew and slammed back in, repeating the harshness you bestowed upon her earlier but this time, you’re feeling everything and even better, see how pretty she looks when she’s blessed with the constant overwhelming pleasure. You grabbed her hips and impaled her deeper, your cum leaking repeatedly out of her tightness as it stained everywhere in its vicinity—you’d probably have this dilemma of cleaning your workspace once you’re done with her, but you wouldn’t care until she’s fucked senseless, her mind thinking of you and you only.

You’d intend on doing that, and with your stored-up strength, you’re able to lift her with your arms and pinned her onto the nearest wall where you’re in full pace on revving up your thrusts with abandon, letting out the most sinful moans of satisfaction Yujin can produce. You’re in the same boat as hers, utterly succumbing into the abyss of gratification and constantly grunting with how great she still feels, tight in the right places, possibly molding her walls onto the shape of yours. 

It’s genuinely hard to comprehend her unparalleled tightness despite the pounding she took earlier and that’s just elevating the pleasure you experience as always, dismissing that sensitivity that once took over your length. You hold her frame with your hands on her waist, her legs wrapping around yours as you achieved greater depths that resonated magnitudes of different cries of pleasure. You catch her lips again, holding her chin upright as the both of you exchange torrid kisses, hungry for each other and utterly leveraging the unstoppable pleasure each of you brings to the table.

It’s the sound that she makes while making up with you, and you’ll never get tired of it, not when she’s dancing her tongue against yours, and attempting to mutter words that fail to be audible with how much you’re investing on dancing with her. Her legs instinctively pull you closer, and can’t help but groan against her lips on how much she clenches between every thrust your hips muster. 

“Are you getting close again, Yujin?” Your breaths come right after, clearly anticipating on achieving her ultimate prize once again, letter her see stars let alone galaxies with how much exertion you bring onto pounding her. Her legs are falling limp, tired with the monstrosity you’re doing but neither of you will have any regrets, and the closest thing to have a thought like that is if someone sees you and there’s no world anyone would have an eye of a trusted, hierarchical man of the company ruining her secretary.

Oh, curse these ethical bullshit and your reputation, because you’ll fulfill your utter desires before you can call this a day.

“I can’t h-hold–oh fuck—so good! Can’t hold it anymore, daddy…” She’s just desperate for another release, and you’re inching closer towards your promised land. She’s bound to feel something so euphoric, and it’s all mutual, even up to the point where you fill her up to the brim. You’re gaining every ounce of strength to wrap herself around you  and a bright idea sparked within you despite all of the thoughts within you spiraled up, all tangled and in haywire.

Before the unexpected detour, she could just moan onto your neck, resting her head against your shoulder and chasing her high, messing up the floor and your thighs with her succulent nectar. Your workplace being stenched with the smell of sex will be the least of your concerns in this current affair, but rather the fact that you can’t see a pulchritude broken into something sullied, and your mind currently emptied, just with the thought of making herself her own canvas.

“What—what are you d-doing?” Yujin is limp once she stands on her feet, messed up thanks to you as her puzzled face is evidently confused with what you’re having it in your mind. Still recovering and gaining that semblance of urgency, she anticipates what you’ll utter and it wouldn’t be long.

“Remember what you said earlier about your favorite pair of yours?” Even with the stupor clearly shown, she’s still articulative and bright, grasping with what you’re trying to make her remember and just flashing that innocent grin with the thought of it.

“Oh god, yes.” She’s quick with it, instantly dropping down onto your knees, legs quivering as she looks up at you, her eyes glistening with what you’re going to shower her with. “Would like to see my favorite pair covered with your cum, daddy.”

God, she knows, she fucking knows.

You didn’t hold back, and she’s sticking her tongue out and closing her eyes, letting her imagination roll upon what could be the most erotic sight that could happen between the both of you. It’s turning you on even more, clearly focused on chasing your high with the velocity your wrists are doing and eventually, it wouldn’t be long enough for her to be deprived of it.

It’s a decent shower, not excessive but god, it’s just right. Her messy bangs got caught off on the process, a little stained and you did what you could to seal the promise, her nose, mouth, chin and most importantly, the scaffolding of her glasses, stained with that white liquid that’s drained out of you.

To be honest, you clearly forgot the existence of such an element, but glad you’re able to cover it and fulfill her needs.

“Fuck—god.” Yujin’s breaths are erratic, still kneeling down and scooping the remnants of your cum and tasting, undeniably satisfied with the outcome. “Considering the load in my pussy, you still came a lot.”

It’s still surprising how she sounds so confident saying such sinful words, but being still in the trance, you wouldn’t mind it so much. “Dropping the names, huh?”

“Oh, sorry—”

“Hey, hey, it’s totally fine, Yujin.” Still managing to display humor, she laughed it off in relief, dropping the act and exchanging exhausted breaths in every second that counts.

“Well, I guess we should clean up, sir.” You help her stand up, legs trembling as she laughs it out and reassures you that everything is going to be fine.

“Yeah, we should, I’ll call up my—”

“No sir—” Her hands stop you from grabbing your phone on the desk, unharmed, and you’re painting shock with her actions.

“Why?”

Yujin stares at you, removing the cum-stained glasses and onto the desk and you can clearly see what she’s made of, a monster in the making. “Just us, please, sir—at your place.”

That’s a bold move, but considering what happened, it wouldn’t be much of a deal as you drop the hierarchical advantage you possess. “There’s still another hole you haven’t stretched yet.”

The wink was the cherry on top and you swear to god, this girl will break you, possibly into millions of pieces more.

You need to fix yourselves up first, and with the obviously influenced and hurried decision, it was damn sealed in the history books.

“How can I resist that?” Your chuckles reflect your masked answer, and clearly, she knows what’s bound to happen. “Guess tomorrow’s going to be your day off then.”

She broke you, and it’s mutual between both parties. Possibly, the threat of a tension between Wonyoung and herself would break apart with this profound comeback of such roots yet who knows? 

These hours have been stressful and quick, but nonetheless, absolutely phenomenal and baffling…

[miirohs]

sugarcoated

pairing: Mob Boss!Baby Daddy!Lando Norris x Fem!Reader wc: 2.7k cw: violence (implied but not against the reader), emotional manipulation, reader is highkey tweaking, Norris is a touchy ass, slight yandere undertones, this aint healthy an: i keep forgetting my irls have my blog lowkey ive been scared of posting bc of my parents. also hey ladies whats up im back out of my flop era! miss me miss me now you gotta kiss me!

He was always lingering somewhere, no matter where you went.

It was like no matter where you ran, he would always find you. Quite frankly, you were sure that was half the appeal to him, he was a powerful man and he spared no expense in letting you know. 

Sometimes, it was the little flowers he left on your doorstep in pristine condition, small notes in semi legible handwriting tied to the stems. Other times, it was the faint smell of his perfume that lingered as he’d find himself in front of your door at odd hours of night, begging you to let him in, as if he’d been dying at the steps of your door.

And like a fool, you finally cracked, you did let him in. You were charmed, though there was no doubt it made you uneasy, he’d pacified you with his dazzling promises to take care of you, so what could’ve been the harm?

You didn’t see him again after that night. In fact, you hadn’t seen him for weeks afterwards, then the games started as soon as you moved.

You’d run, he’d show up, you’d run again. 

It was a cycle. There was no leaving the city anymore either, his forces scattered across every crook and nanny of the city. You’d sealed your own fate with just one hospital visit, deliverance of the exact news you’d prayed to not get as you sat with a test in your hands, two pink lines string back at you. 

You had no idea how you even made it home that night.

It was in your best interest not to move anymore, but you weren’t even sure how to move forward. Your wallet wasn’t entirely drained, but you were. Any chance of moving away was immediately stomped out, leaving you with no choice but to firm up against him and his sugar coated words.

It wasn’t long before he found out, and when he did, he made sure you knew. You couldn’t tell for your life how he felt though.

At first, it was minor things, baby items you didn’t recall ordering appearing at your door. You chalked it up to clerical error, but something nagged at you as you inspected them. Then, more expensive items started to appear, everything a new mother could dream of, but it made you uneasy.

Sometimes he’d come along with one of these gifts, standing outside the door as you peered at him through the eyehole. You never answered, with the hope that he'd leave you alone, hoping to dissuade him from anything further.

Then the biggest shock came along, sitting across from you on the counter, as if it’d been there the whole time. You had no time to question, let alone think about it upon seeing the small note attached to the box. 

I hope you’ll love the gift exactly how I did when I saw it, xoxo.

You knew exactly what a diamond ring implied. Yet, you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around why he would’ve sent it. The last thing he would’ve done was tie himself to you after trying so long to avoid you.

It’d been four days since the ring had appeared there, and you were simply hoping it was a fluke, no sign of him to back the ever present thought of the intrusion. 

You sat at the dining table, poking around your half-assed salad as you stared at the box. You could’ve sold it off, but there was no doubt someone would’ve found out and reported it back to him, leaving you to bear the brunt of his anger at your outright refusal. He’d never hurt you, but you saw everything in his actions.

The thought was more than enough to throw you off your meal, pushing away the plate with a pained sigh. Eating wasn’t the only thing that’d become harder in recent months, as working had left you with barely any time for yourself.

You were almost ready to doze off right there and then, had it not been for the series of sharp raps on the door, earning a grumble from you as you dragged yourself to the door with a mind full of insults to hurl at the person.

It hadn’t occurred to you to check who it was as you sleepily fiddled knob, only saved by the grace of the chain lock you’d forgotten to unlock.

“Hey there.”

Your blood froze, hazel eyes staring down through the crack of the door. There he was again, the devil himself, at your doorsteps as if he’d been waiting for you for a long time.

“Lando?” it came out as more of a whisper than anything else, voice cracking from a lack of proper use.

“It’s nice to see you too sweetheart,” He laughed, tilting his head at you to meet your eyes through the wide crack. 

There was a look in his eyes, although you couldn’t entirely decide if it was predatory or not as you averted your eyes, looking down at the handle of the door.

“What’s going on in there? Are you working late again? Though the doctor said it wasn’t good for you to be up this late with the baby on the way.”

You didn’t respond, trying to shut the door as subtly as you good, hitting something between the doorframe. Jitters ran down your spine when the door wouldn’t move further, looking down to see what it was. 

He’d wedged his shoe in between, the bastard. You looked back up, swallowing as he narrowed his eyes, the smile slipping off his face for moments to reveal thinly masked displeasure before disappearing entirely.

He knew what you were trying to do. You didn’t know if the guilt building up in your chest, or the possibility of what he could’ve done, scared you more. He’d never explicitly laid a hand on you, but the amount of torture was already enough as he lingered in your space.

“Someone has to keep the lights on,” You muttered, letting him nudge the door open. You were already fighting a losing battle, there was no way to keep him away but to hold him at an arm's length. That was how he’d gotten in the first time. He couldn’t fool you twice though.

“That’s why I've been sending you stuff, have you not gotten it?” He frowned. For a moment, it almost felt as if he were trying to be genuinely involved. You knew better.

You hesitated, looking back and forth between the chain lock and his face, though not much contemplating would be able to change the choice that’d already been made for you.

“No. I… donated it to some of the others at work. Needed it more than I did.”

There it was again, the indignancy in his eyes. 

“I got it for you though, was it not to your liking then?” His voice was eerily calm, but you knew exactly what it meant. Your hand instantly went up to the chain, almost as if it was moving on its own. Fear gripped at you. You had no idea what he was going to do next.

“So, you’re determined to be a single mother then? Do you know the kind of trouble it would get you and the baby into…” He raised his voice, pausing to see if you’d reconsidered.

Clearly a slight tremble in your hand was enough to convince him you’d finally stood down, a smirk gracing his already vicious face as you opened the door. You had no plan to, but it was hopeless to try and stand up without attracting attention, the last thing you wanted was for everyone to know what a shameless bastard he was.

“Just come inside please. Don’t let anyone see you any more.” You whispered, letting him through the threshold before you shut the door behind you.

“You’ve been busy, haven’t you? Just look at the state of your... apartment.” He shook his head, pushing at stray articles laying all over the floor with his foot, as if they were positively filthy. There were still boxes from your last move sitting around the living room, the only real piece of furniture unpacked being your bed and the table you were sitting at. 

You couldn’t help but be a little embarrassed as you walked into the kitchen, you’d never been this untidy before. It wasn’t any easier as Lando tailed you, only pausing outside the door frame, as if something stopped him from coming through.

“You should move from here. I don’t like this apartment, it’s in a sketchy part of town.”

“Well, I don't recall asking for your opinion, did i?”

You didn’t pay any mind to his poking, filling a random mug up as you stood at the sink before you shot back, standing in the dark of the kitchen as he walked away, presumably to shuffle through your personals again. You were thankful for a moment of silence though, head pounding from all that had happened today.

You stood there lost in thought, and he’d returned sooner rather than later, tone disapproving as he spoke to you once again.

“I wonder how on earth I'm supposed to convince you if this can’t stop you from trying to make it on your own.”

Only, he wasn’t at the doorway anymore, standing a little further back, waving a stack of letters to your face. The color of the envelopes, you immediately knew what the contents were.

Heat seemed to bloom across your face, rushing over to grab the letters from him. It was of no use, he could easily keep them out of your reach, but it didn’t stop you.

“Sweetheart, what happened to you? Looks like you’ve managed to stir up more trouble than you can handle, am i right?” You could hear the mock empathy in his voice, distorted by the rush of blood to your ears.

“You. You happened to me.” You hissed back at him, finally grabbing the papers and slinking backwards. There wasn’t any time to leaf through them, but the big bright red stamps were more than enough to drive you to tears when you saw them. But you couldn’t cry here. Not in front of him.

He didn’t respond to your remark, simply giving you a look of pity, watching with careful eyes as you tossed the pages back onto the table, taking your seat back. The tension was getting higher, only breaking when you finally looked at him, opening your mouth.

“You can’t just come in here, into my life,” you managed, voice quivering despite the resolution you’d come to, “And act like you own the place. You have no idea what I’m dealing with.”

“Don’t I?” Lando pushed himself off the opposing wall, getting closer. “I’m the one who’s been watching you struggle, I'm the one who’s trying to help you love.”

“And is this what help is then?” The thought tasted bitter. “Sending gifts isn’t helping, it’s… wrong.” 

Then adding in a whisper, “You know i can’t afford this.”

He paused, the righteous look he had faltering for a second. “You’re reading it all wrong. I’m just trying to provide for you and the baby, but you want to be stubborn. You won’t take my help, nor will you take my money.”

“I don’t want your money, please.” You begged mercifully, looking at him eye to eye since the first time he’d stepped through the door.

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smile that sent chills through you. “You should be thanking me. Not many get the same kind of priority you’re getting right now. I’m only trying to make it easier.”

“I would never do it with your filthy money, how many have you run over just to make a paycheck?” You murmured, pausing at the look on his face.

“At least I can provide for myself. I won’t ever have to scrap the bottom of a tip jar only to fail to make rent.” He replied smoothly, eyes narrowing at your attempt to rebuke him.

The implication hung heavy in the air, and you clenched your fists, nails digging into your palm. “I… can’t.”

The silence seemed to stretch thinner, and you could feel the burn in your eyes as you looked down at your clasped hands. You couldn’t even really tell when the first tear slipped. It kept coming, and you couldn’t stop it. You knew he was right.

“Hey, hey, none of that.” He said slowly, getting down on one knee to meet your eyes, taking your hand in his. “I was out of line for that, wasn’t i?”

You shook your head, covering your mouth to stop the sobs from escaping. He seemed remorseful, running a thumb over your knuckles as he looked at you with a mix of pity and something foreign.  “I know I upset you, but I'm still offering you a chance here. I wanna set it right between us.”

You didn’t argue through the tears, and he seized the moment. “You can struggle all you want but I can provide everything you need. I can make the baby my heir, I can give you the life you deserve... all you have to do is say yes.”

“Say yes to what? Marrying you?” The words seem to slip out of your mouth mid sob, and a look of amusement crossed his face as you slapped a hand over your mouth.

“Exactly,” he replied, trademark grin spreading across his face. “Imagine it. A beautiful ceremony, a life together. You’d have someone by your side who can ensure nothing threatens you. You’d be safe and sound. The baby would be my successor, guaranteed.”

“I barely even know you. You don’t know me.” You whimpered as he played with your hand, too loving, too suffocating.

He moved closer to your lap this time, bringing his hand up to wipe the tears, soft and tender than you’d known him to be. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, and I know it feels like you don’t know me at all. This is a big decision.”

“It’s not just a decision, Lando. It’s my life.” You hiccuped, despairing clawing at your insides. “How do I know you won’t just leave when you’re bored of me?”

“Didn’t I promise to take care of you and the baby?” He gently cupped your face, tilting it up so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. “Look at me. You’re not alone in this. I’m here now, and I want to help.”

There was a flicker of recognition at his words at the back of your brain, raising voices of caution as you looked at him through glassy eyes. “And what if I can’t love you back like you want me to?”

Lando’s eyes darkened slightly, and he took your hands, pulling you closer. “You don’t have to love me right now. Just trust me.” His grip tightened, slightly painful as he held onto you. “Just let me show you what it means to be cherished.”

He leaned in, his lips almost brushing your ear, the movement making your breath hitch. “Let me in, stop thinking so hard.”

You could’ve stopped breathing, time slowing as he pushed the ring box into your lap.

He was never going to give you a choice, but what he said was ultimately true.

“Just think,” Lando urged as you squeezed your eyes shut, allowing him to play with your ring finger. “Think about what you could have.”

You’d never really realized how much his scent stuck till you until now, wrapping around you and lingering softly. A part of you was tempted to lean into him, to let him guide you into this new reality.

Even if you hadn’t made up your mind, he likely already had.

“Fine.”

Wordlessly, the cold metal slipped on the finger he’d been tracing moments before, bringing up your hand to kiss it.

“See? You’re already one step closer.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You could only look at him, dried tear tracks sticky against the sudden cold draft of the air.

“It’s a promise,” he said, his thumb brushing over the ring as if it had already tied you together. “I won’t let you go just like that.”

You shuddered. 

There was no escaping him now. You were tied to him.

A sugar coated nightmare, it seemed.

[allforhee]

— 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐒! (ONESHOT) | LEE HEESEUNG

୨୧ pairing — secretary-general!lee heeseung x delegate!fem!reader

synopsis: decelis high's academic weapon, future valedictorian, model un prodigy especially in the crisis council, and top-notch secretary-general of the mun club, lee heeseung has it all. from earning constant "best delegate-s" left and right, no one dared to go against his stances in any debate. until a student like you transfers into decelis high. as a soon graduating senior, you were a newbie to press. but with your endless love for writing, you'd managed to steal the hearts of your peers. it was your first mun, and you didn't expect much. but when heeseung finds out about an article you've wrote about his arrogant performance in a recent committee session, he is set to strike you down.

୨୧ genre — kinda angsty but with happy ending, high school au, secgen/crisis delegate!heeseung x press delegate!reader, academic rivals to lovers, dumbasses in denial, a brief moment of rivals in public but lovers in secret, one sided rivalry

୨୧ warnings — a lot of model un terms (hope you guys can understand), cursing, hurt no comfort, heeseung highkey hates reader, reader is a bit feisty and could care less but she lowkey has parental issues, featuring all the other enhypen members, aespa's winter aka minjeong, txt's yeonjun and beomgyu, stray kids’ i.n, gidle's shuhua, and ive's wonyoung, one bed trope, forced proximity

୨୧ word count — 13.3k (not proofread, but will slowly edit/make changes to tiny minor mistakes found)

୨୧ author's note — dear readers, i'm back from a long overdue hiatus with a new layout and theme! this fic is long as HELL i didn't expect it to reach this long omg. i also changed up a couple details so it will be quite different from the teaser! i’m so sorry for the long overdue wait, senior year of high school has been so hectic, and i’ve been finally able to finish this so enjoy :) omg holy shit y’all are finally reading my full length fic i’ve been harboring since what? february?

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 had it all.

the walls of his room were littered with delegate lanyards from conferences across the globe, "best delegate" certificates framed all over his house (and a couple crumpled up inside his desk to fit the space), and a collection of trophies stood in every nook and cranny.

no one at decelis high dared to go against his stance. whenever it was, whether it was a moderated caucus or unmoderated, he'd always have his country or character's placard raised high, ready to speak, or leading whatever bloc was being formed.

there was no doubt that no one had ever beat him. it was no doubt that he was decelis high's mun club's secretary-general, and those who chose to go against him either got crushed in fear or knew when to step back.

even with his "best delegate" status, he wouldn't have gone far without his best mates, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, and park sunghoon.

park jongseong or jay, most known for his cold stares in the debate room, ready to make a delegate tremble, would always chair crisis. he was decelis high's deputy secretary-general alongside heeseung. and although being heeseung's best mate, he never favored him when it came to awarding. it's just that he was naturally talented.

sim jaeyun, known for his popular slogan around the school; "jake it till you make it!", was the strongest when it came to knowing what a country or character believed in. his research skills were like a pirate on the hunt for lost treasure, he had all the facts, the data, and the proof to back up any stance. whatever heeseung needed to know, jake already had his back.

and park sunghoon. even though he was the quiet one of the bunch, his position papers never ceased to appeal to any chair. even if he wasn't as strong in speaking out during committee sessions, his fingers were his weapon. the guys would always ask him why'd he chair press and not join in the heat with them, he'd always answer with "my words are stronger than my actions." where jay would always respond with "isn't that the other way around bud?"

the four were unstoppable when it came to model un. lee heeseung was unstoppable. he was. until you came along.

you were quiet at first. everyone just saw you as the new girl who transferred for her senior year. nobody cared. until decelis high's annual mun conference, which happened to take place a couple weeks after the first day of school.

students from all over the country gathered at decelis high once a year to join in on the fun. various councils were presented at decelis mun, from heeseung's favorite council, crisis, and multiple others like unhrc, who, unsc, disec, unicef, and your favorite, press.

without a doubt, you registered yourself for press, opting that you didn't have the guts to join any other council. you feared you'd tremble listening to another delegate question your stances and ideologies.

your parents would always encourage your writing. as a child, you loved to write little imaginary stories about your life as a princess. writing stories about the love you've seen in your parents, you were set to write a book. but when your mom passed away a few weeks before your senior year of high school, and your dad constantly traveling for work, you had resorted yourself to watching the news all summer long, spiking your interest in being a journalist, where all you had to do was report whatever was going on, spit out what had to be said, and done. you didn't need to think long and hard on what your character was supposed to do next to support the storyline, no opinions, no biases.

as you stepped into your assigned council's room, you felt a gush of wind. the nervousness had gotten to you more, seeing all the socially bright journalists with their laptops open and chatting amongst each other happily.

"hi! you're a new face! oh and you're cnn! me and you will be best buddies! bbc here!" a girl squeals, she has a bright smile and a oh-so friendly demeanor. no doubt a popular trait amongst the press council.

"minjeong! don't scare her off. we're so sorry, she sometimes comes off a bit too much to new people. i'm wonyoung, the co-chair for press." she introduces herself.

"oh, hello. i'm y/n. i just transferred to decelis this year. it's my first time at press." you smile. you lost all your socialite cheerfulness over the summer, but meeting minjeong and wonyoung felt like you've been recharged. "oh and i'm the journalist for cnn?"

the girls take a glance at your nametag, examining you, before wonyoung cuts, "first time? don't worry sweetheart, we'll tell you all about it! right hoonie?"

a tall figure walks up to the three of you, no doubt a intimidating face. "y/n right? i'm sunghoon, the chair for press." he asks.

"yes yes this is her! oh we've got to tell her all about press! first timer alert!" wonyoung beams, before entangling her hand with sunghoon's. there was no doubt that the two were a couple.

"ugh, okay you two cut it off! we're journalists, we gotta be professional!" minjeong argues, playfully slapping wonyoung's arm, causing her to let go of sunghoon's.

at first, you had no idea what you were stepping into. but when chair sunghoon welcomed you to press with his icy-blue eyes and quiet demeanor, the other journalists supporting each other when it came to writing their articles, you felt right at home.

it didn't feel like it, but two days of endless debates went on, countries arguing left and right, and articles written on the current hot topic. the tension was surely rising, and your fingers were tired.

you were glad it was all over.

at every post-conference social, before awards were handed out, the articles the journalists from press wrote would be released to the conference for the other delegates to read. besides their usual gossip box, the articles the press wrote were always the fuel to the fire.

one article stuck up to heeseung. it read; "secretary-general heeseung's love for crisis interferes chair jongseong's chairing process, now who's really chairing crisis?"

heeseung swore to himself that he's never seen a girl like you. so quiet yet so powerful in her writing. hearing rumors that you've only just recently transferred to decelis high. even sunghoon himself was surprised to meet a talented journalist like you, a first-timer at press.

"it was her first time?" heeseung protested, "i mean- she's so quiet and reserved, if she had been doing press for years, i wouldn't be surprised. but this is her first time?!"

"what do you mean she's quiet? look at hoon, he never says a word in comses, but look at him chairing press. and i would never mind you tagging along in crisis, you always give out good insights." jay interrupts his thoughts.

heeseung complains, "i understand that, but her innocent face says nothing to what she wrote about me!"

"her articles were critical. they were precise and to the point. there was never a single weak spot in her articles. i think she's gonna make a run for my position." sunghoon defends.

"it's just one article hee, it won't affect your entire track record anyways." jake compliments, giving him a pat on the back.

heeseung believed what jake said was true. he did have an outstanding track record. "best delegate"s here and there, one silly little article wouldn't ruin his entire reputation.

as the clock strikes seven, social night was slowly coming to a close. decelis high's third annual mun was coming to an end. all that was left was to hand out the awards.

heeseung made his secretary-general speech as usual, a couple thank you-s here and there, before he handed it over to the chairs to announce the awards.

as he was walking down the stage, he felt a couple stares from mostly the press council linger. fixing his tie, he shook it off before taking a seat in the front row.

awards were handed, from best position papers, verbal commendations, honorable mentions, most outstanding delegates, and of course, best delegates.

the press council was saved for last. sunghoon asked heeseung if he could be given more time to rethink his options for the awards, and as his best mate, he let him. in reality, sunghoon didn't need time to rethink his options. he and wonyoung knew who was going to win best journalist. sunghoon just wanted to save the best for last.

when heeseung hears sunghoon's announcement for best journalist, it clicks.

"and the press council's best journalist award goes to none other than... l/n y/n!"

cheers could be heard from across the conference room. minjeong practically jumping on you when they heard your name mentioned. you rushed to the stage with a red face and a still shocked reaction, receiving the certificate along with the medal. wonyoung gave you the biggest bear hug known to man, whilst sunghoon gave you a firm handshake.

you felt the cameras flashing at you, taking pictures from what felt like every single angle. unbeknownst to you, heeseung was glaring at you from the front row.

best journalist. best journalist? his mind was running all over the place. how could he? how could sunghoon, his best friend, let such a writer like you, who wrote a devious article about him, win best delegate?

a single glance at the other delegates of the press council only angered him more. amongst them were laughs and snickers. he swore he heard a journalist say; "looks like mister secgen is upseeet!" but decelis mun only happened once a year. he wouldn't have the need to care about you every other day.

or so he thought.

heeseung felt like you were everywhere. at every lunch break, you were always sitting across his and the boys' table, laughing at nonsense with yunjin and wonyoung. during free periods, you'd be at the library, hunched over your laptop or head deep in a book. and at mun club, you just had to be there.

he hated that you were gifted like him. he hated that his friends favored you. he hated that sunghoon would always send you to their rival school's muns to participate in their press councils. he hated that you always won. he hated that you were clouding his mind every single day.

you hadn't but uttered a single "thank you," to lee heeseung. as decelis high's secretary-general, you didn't think he'd care about you. you were just a writer. you had no strength in the debate field, no reason for lee heeseung to care. but why was he being so cold?

it started when you applied for the harvard model congress. you were ecstatic to find out you'd be attending the conference. obviously, you told minjeong and wonyoung all about it. even striking up small talk with sunghoon.

"that's amazing y/n. i mean, harvard model congress? that's big!" his tooth-rotting smile bringing a cheerful mood.

"you went from winning best journalist in schools across the state to varsity level in just a few months!" minjeong squeals, as she hugs you. you were really lucky to have such caring best friends.

laughing along in the mun club room, you could feel heeseung's glare from his desk. headphones on and focused onto his laptop screen, you felt a strange feeling resonating off of him.

heeseung was fuming. the entire club applied for harvard model congress. heeseung got in. his mates did. and of course, you also did.

it was supposed to be a three day long weekend with his mates full of debate, laughter, awards, and getting drunk on social nights. but no. you and your friends would be there too.

heeseung didn't understand why everyone was so trusting of you so easily.

even jay, was friendly with you. "well y/n, i think you're going to make a run for hee's job!"

wonyoung rolls her eyes at jay. "he should be scared. you've rose up through the ranks like jake's receeding hairline."

"hey! my hair is perfectly fine, thank you!" jake cuts, huffing at the ridiculous comment about his hair.

"yo hee! we gotta work out the letter to the school so we can get a few days off. come over here, you look like you're burning holes into your laptop!" jay chuckles, receiving a smack on the arm from jake.

a quick but surprising slam! from heeseung's laptop emitted a low echo throughout the room. followed by a ruffling of him throwing his decelis almameter over his shoulder, and another loud slam! of the mun club room's door. lee heeseung just stormed out.

"oof, what's got into him?" minjeong asks, her face contorting into an anxious look.

"i don't fucking know, he's been at it since decelis' annual mun. throwing temper tantrums left and right." jay sighs, concerned for his best friend.

"well i guess that temper is living up to my article." you suggest, letting out a huff and a subtle eyeroll.

sunghoon takes a deep breath before realization hits. "now that i think of it, he's been at it since you've joined our core team." while he points at you.

"what does that have to do with me? i didn't do shit. all i do is sit, join muns, write, and win awards for us. would he rather i'd be getting verbal commendations instead?" you sigh. you've done nothing but bring pride to decelis high's reputation.

wonyoung laughs, patting you on the back. "it's not about winning verbcom or bestdel, it's about heeseung finally finding his match."

"exactly! he's gone on and on about constantly winning at every mun. he's always complained about needing more of a challenge. and no shit he's been jealous of your achievements." minjeong pipes in.

"that's ridiculous. i don't understand crisis as much as he does, i'm just a journalist on the press council! he's basically just being an ass to me, that's all." you confessed, you and heeseung were basically on different levels. he was secgen and lover of crisis councils, whilst you were just one of the head journalists and co-editors of the press division.

"maybe he likes you? i don't know!" jake squeals, lifting his shoulders in question. jay and sunghoon gives him a slap on the shoulder each, a glaring stare between the three.

"no no, lee heeseung is a cold-hearted son of a bitch with an ego to feed every other day, there's no way he can feel shit." minjeong debates, a hint of anger in her voice.

"woah girl, what's got you mad? i get you two grew up together but that's a lot to say about heeseung." wonyoung asks her.

"i know it's a long story, but y/n deserves to know. right?" minjeong asks, waiting for you to nod to continue. "every single day of my life, i was my parents' star girl. i love my parents for supporting me. but ever since heeseung moved in next door, i was demoted from best girl in the neighborhood to second best to heeseung. ever since we were eight, heeseung didn't like to lose. to a boy he'd be a good sport. but when he lost to me in a mere storytelling competition, he'd throw a tantrum. that's heeseung to me. he's nothing but an egotistical ass who has to win everything."

you sigh, hearing minjeong’s words. "and you know what y/n?" she continues, "he's never lost it since we were 13. and you, y/n, have officially made him lose his mind. again."

this year's harvard model congress was held at seoul national university, the dream university of many korean students. the seven of you stayed at a hotel nearby, settling in.

sunghoon picks up the keycards at the check-in counter, "okay so there's three rooms in total, the girls are sharing, me and jake are in one room, which leaves heeseung and jay—"

"i'm sorry sir," the hotel staff interrupts him, "but the rooms are already divided by the hotel and cannot be changed. it says here, room 745 is for miss kim and miss yang, room 746 is for mister park, mister sim, and the other mister park— mister jongseong, and room 777 is for—"

"great. thank you. alright, let's settle in and get ready for opening night." heeseung sighs, grabbing his suitcase and your shared room's keycards before heading to the elevators. you gave the rest of the group a shaky smile before following heeseung.

the moment you two entered the lift, and as heeseung tapped the keycard and pressing the button for the seventh floor, you could feel the tension.

as the lift begins to move upwards, heeseung lets out a sigh. "look, l/n. we're sharing a room by casuality, so don't make it a big deal."

you huff shakily, "a big deal? you're the one who's been avoiding me all year! i barely disturb you and all i do is win awards for decelis. what else do you want from me?" your voice slowly getting angrier.

as heeseung opens his mouth to answer, the lift comes to a halt as its doors open, signaling that they've reached the seventh floor.

heeseung holds the lift doors open, so you can exit it with ease. you were surprised with this gesture. coming from him who could care less about your presence, you were baffled.

as you both reach at your hotel room, heeseung gave you one of the three keycards given before tapping his at the hotel room's door.

and as if your romance stories came to life, you spotted an oh-so familiar trope sitting in the middle of your hotel room. there was only one king-sized bed.

"shut the front door." you sighed, looking at the clear situation in front of you.

heeseung entered behind you, "i clearly have, what are you talking abou—"

"no dumbass, it was a metaphor. i'm talking about this." you exclaimed, pointing your finger at the bed.

"great. i'll call up room service and get this sorted—"

"no it's fine, it'll be too much of a hassle and social night is in two hours. besides, we're civil adults, and we're here for only two nights. we can bear 72 hours living through this stupid one bed trope."

"fine. just so you know i'm taking the left side."

heeseung dropped his bag near his side, as he was trying his best to keep his composure. sharing a room with you was bad enough (that's what he keeps telling himself), but a bed as well? he'd rather win verbal commendation than share a bed with you.

you were unpacking your necessities before you decided to break the ice. "heeseung just so you know—"

but before you could finish, heeseung was already out the door. before the door closed, you could hear a mere; "i'll go down for social night. you do you." and a click! of the door.

you scanned the room that was once filled with such tension, spotting your room keycard on the bedside table.

you took off your sweater and switched to something a bit classier for social night, changing to a blood red dress you had packed to match harvard's colors. minjeong and wonyoung had helped you choose it a couple days prior, the conversation reappearing in your mind.

"harvard's got nothing on you with that dress! watch out best journalist!" minjeong hypes you up as you're trying it on in the changing room.

"are you sure it's not a bit too much?" you questioned, feeling insecure in the dress.

"too much? my guess is heeseung would drop dead seeing you in that dress. after all, he is in love with you." wonyoung giggles, which earns her a slap on her arm from winter.

"just own it y/n. maybe layer it with a leather jacket if you get cold?" minjeong suggests. you look at yourself in the mirror once more. maybe this would be the turning point between you and heeseung's rivalry. maybe he'd look at you and decide that he no longer hated you and instead loved y— no. enough of those thoughts.

as you touched up your makeup from earlier this morning, you headed out to find wonyoung and minjeong waiting at the lobby.

"there you are— oh that dress looks, damn!" minjeong exclaims, covering her mouth with her hand to hide the utter shock.

"i just know heeseung's going to gape at that dre—" before wonyoung could finish her sentence, she earns a smack on her arm from minjeong. "ow minie! i don't want my arm to be black and blue at social night! which starts in... thirty minutes. we should get to campus and fill in our registrations so we're set."

opening night was a blast. harvard model congress knew how to throw a goddamn banger of a opening night.

there were so many things to see. a karaoke booth, a photobooth station, a merch station, even a snack booth filled to the brim with various snacks and drinks.

after receiving your lanyards and a couple papers where you'd find your assigned councils for the next day, you, wonyoung, and minjeong, were set to let lose one last time before you were head deep into your laptops, writing articles for the next three days.

entering the room littered with decorations and other delegates, you and the girls entered the ballroom hand in hand, in awe with the decor.

wonyoung spotted the boys immediately, already saving a table for the seven of you. the three of you walked to the table, which had name plates for all your names. wonyoung next to sunghoon, jay next to jake, minjeong on your right next to you, and heeseung on your left.

sitting at the assigned seats and listening to the opening remarks by harvard model congress' secretary-general, the food was served and you all dug in.

although this was only the first of two social nights, you and the girls had to make the best of it. from abusing the “free photobooths!” booth, and filling the room with echoes of musical ballads, your first night at harvard model congress was deemed memorable.

before you knew it, you were dragged to the back of the room, as wonyoung pulled out a small paper bag—which turns out to hold a couple bottles of liquor, you grabbed your glasses and started pouring.

you could see out of the corner of your eye—the girls downing shots of tequila (in secret, cause you didn't want to get caught), and the guys coming along to take a shot or two. but heeseung looked, tense.

jake slapped him on the back, giggling, “come on man, loosen up a bit! mun isn’t all about the awards and the roles, it’s about the memories!”

“and the friends we make along the way, am i right?” jay chimed in, with a teasing tone.

before you knew it, heeseung grabbed an entire bottle and downed what was equivalent to maybe 4 shots, wonyoung squealed, arguing the fact that it was a very expensive bottle of liquor.

“dude! that’s from my dad’s cabinet, it’s at least 500.000 won!” she argued, grabbing the bottle out of his hands.

as you tried to ignore his gaze, minjeong gave you your first shot—which you downed immediately, but it only made you feel like heeseung’s gaze was burning holes into you more.

heeseung sighed, “give me another one.” holding his hand out for someone to pour him a shot. “come on, i don’t got all day.” before sunghoon poured him another shot—which he downed immediately.

you hated the feeling of his stare. it felt, uncomfortable, but you liked it? the more he stared, the more you downed more shots. before you knew it, opening night came to a close, and you were stumbling your way down the hallway with wonyoung and minjeong, before finally finding your room. and in your drunken state, you passed out.

burning pain. your eyes couldn’t handle the bright light emitting from what seemed to be all around you. as you open your eyes, head spinning, you flopped back down onto your bed, exhausted, and with the hotel room ac, you felt frozen.

but as you get comfortable onto the bed once more, you feel a sense of warmth engulf your body. it felt welcoming. comfortable. maybe a bit too comfortable for your sake. but the warmth was soothing. it was, moving?

you shot back out of the bed, trying to rub your eyes to focus back onto the warmth, but that warmth pulled you back into its embrace. as if it needed you to survive.

as you try to recollect the events of last night, your usual 7am alarm rung. what a great way to ruin the moment.

a groan echoed from that warmth you once clung to, a familiar sound, a familiar… voice?

“l/n, what time is it?” it asked.

fuck.

"chill y/n, you'll be fine." you whisper to yourself, walking to your assigned council's room. from the rest of the journalists in your gang, you had been assigned to report on different councils. while wonyoung and winter were assigned to report on the ASEAN council, sunghoon to report on the UNHRC council, you were unfortunately assigned to the crisis council. just to your luck. your mind was still stuck in what happened this morning. you met your chairs, shuhua and beomgyu, role call was held, and your first committee session began.

while you were typing away a starting paragraph for an article, a bright face comes to greet you. "oh hello, l/n y/n right? i'm jungwon, the journalist for KBS! i sit right next to you in our council room."

"oh hello! i'm y/n, reporting for the new york times, it's nice to meet you." you smile, offering a hand out for him to shake, which he accepts.

"so, you got assigned to crisis too huh?" jungwon asks as you nod, "honestly it's one of the worse councils to report on because everything is moving... too fast." he sighs.

"i don't mind the speed, it gives me inspiration to write. but everyone has their capacities right?" you try to reason, whilst jungwon gives an agreeing nod.

not long after some small talk before you could enter crisis' council room, another boy tags along. his bright smile clearly infectious as you and jungwon couldn't help but smile at his bright appearance.

"annyeong! nice to meet you i'm sunoo!" he smiles, his blonde hair reflecting the lights in the room.

you shake his hand as a boy with blonde hair and black streaks tags along behind him before slapping the blonde’s arm, "i'm nishimura riki, you can call me riki. can’t believe i flew all the way from tokyo for this."

“yah! your writing is fine riki, your good shots will steal the show.” sunoo assures him, before looking back at you, and smiling.

riki sighs, before turning on his camera “i wanna get the redhead over there, heard he’s super good at mun or something..”

you blink as you realize riki was talking about none other than—heeseung.

"oh him? yeah he's my secgen." you tell him, the sentence floating out of your mouth. jungwon and sunoo turn to you with gaping mouths.

"wait- what? he's YOUR secgen? THE lee heeseung?" jungwon exclaims.

you furrow your eyebrows, "um, yeah? what's the big deal about him?"

sunoo's face lights up, as he prepares his words. "girl, he's the most highest ranking student in the high school mun circuit! his countless awards and times he's chaired makes him a legend. he's a literal model un weapon, even delegates with the veto powers are scared of him." he explains.

as you open your mouth to respond to his comment about heeseung, one of the chairs of the crisis council exits the room to greet you.

"ah hello journalists, you're here. i'm yeonjun, the head chair for crisis. we currently have unmod going on right now so you're just in time. we'll give you guys a couple opportunities to interview the delegates, but please be mindful." he explains.

you and the three boys smile back at him, before he opens the council room door and lets you in.

"delegates! i'd like to introduce to you all the journalists from the international press institute council, who will be observing our committee session. we have yang jungwon from KBS, kim sunoo from associated press, nishimura riki from NHK, and y/n l/n from the new york times. please treat them with the upmost respect.

a couple delegates say their greetings, and even explaining the current debate going on, as the four of you smile back at them. the crisis council was a popular council, and you can tell that from the amount of delegates in the room.

as you return your laptop back into your messenger bag and pulling out a notepad, a pen, and some sticky notes, you look back up only to lock eyes with heeseung. his gaze was deadly. you give him a slight smile, which he responds with an eyeroll.

the only thing you hated about being a journalist was the interviews. you needed to research, but having to interact with people you don't know? you'd rather kill yourself. it just happened that heeseung's stance was interesting enough for you to pass a post-it note to him, which he threw away.

so you were surprised to see him walk towards you during break, as you had thought he had rejected your interview offer.

"l/n, you wanted to interview me?" he'd asked you, no bad tone in his voice.

you looked at him surprised, kinda shocked, "umm, yeah? are you okay with that."

"i'm good. just, make it quick."

you open your notes to find your question you wanted to ask him, "um, do you mind if i record?" you asked, which he nodded. "okay, so as the delegate of colombia, what steps would you take to face the ongoing drug trade happening in your country? as a journalist, we have not seen you speak up much lately, so i'd like to know your thoughts."

"um, thank you for the interesting question, well i think—"

it was unlike him to treat you like this. unlikely for him to keep his cool. as you try to remember the words he was saying as you hold out your phone to record him, nothing was catching on. it was as if words went in one ear and out the other. 

he was so professional. the way he walks, and the way he talks—the way his lips move when he talks, the way he explains his stance—the way he’s saying the words—the way his lips move to pronounce it, oh and the way he-

“l/n? are you done? i’m wasting my precious break time here.” heeseung asks you, breaking you out of that trance.

you compose yourself, hitting the stop button on the voice recorder app, “oh yeah, sorry, i was thinking of another question to ask you—got carried away…”

heeseung rolls his eyes at you, before thanking you and scurrying away.

what had gotten into you? you’ve never seen heeseung in that way before. he’s always been just a secretary-general to you. who also happens to hate you. you think. 

but as the unmoderated caucus comes to a close, you return back to your council room, ready to write an article on heeseung’s stance. after all, you still had a day’s left worth of committee sessions, as well as a press conference held at the crisis council. 

the press council room was chiming with the clicks and clacks of keyboards, journalists writing articles left and right. you were in the middle of writing once again another filler article, as you had no idea what to write for your mandatory article. as you look through your gallery, observing pictures you took earlier for your articles, you can't help but notice heeseung in his element.

as you're typing a possible title for your mandatory article, you hear from beside you, "hey, what's going on with you and heeseung?" sunoo asks, as you turn to him in shock, as you were in the middle of writing an article.

you laughed nervously, "what? nothing's going on between us. he practically hates me." you sigh.

jungwon pulls his chair over to you, placing his laptop on your table in the process, "i don't think so. not from what i saw last night."

you gasped at what he said, "and what i saw this morning! i could practically feel the tension emitting off the two of you as you were interviewing him. i've never seen a man so intrigued before." riki chimes in.

"this morning? nothing happened, i was interviewing him on his stances and whatsoever for a possible article! that's all to it!" you defend yourself, trying to get back into your article.

"y/nie, sweetie, i've seen way too many kdramas to tell that the way he's looking at you, is a look of love~" sunoo teases, smiling as if he knew something more.

jungwon and riki laughes at your expression, which seemed to resemble a disgusting look, but underneath that, you felt a sting in your heart. not a bad sting, a good sting.

"but hey you two seemed pretty cozy last night, i wonder what that was for?" jungwon asked.

riki gasps, "hey i took a picture! wait let me find it..." as he pulled out his camera, going through the camera roll. "here! you guys were dancing together a lot, and he basically was carrying you back to your room. what, did you guys get drunk or something?"

you choked on your water, as the events of last night start piecing together. "i remember taking a couple shots, he did too, but all i remember after that is falling asleep on my bed... i assumed my friends helped me to get back but now that i think of it... they were pretty drunk too."

taking another closer look at the pictures riki happened to capture, you saw two beaming smiles, and from the looks of it, it looked like you two were having fun. you've never seen him smile this much, let alone around you. the other picture resembled like a married couple. it was as if heeseung was trying to pick you up, but by the looks of your drunken states, it wasn't really working.

"wouldn't it be really funny if you guys accidentally fucked or something? that would explain the tension!" jungwon jokes.

you shake your head, before putting your face in your hands, "no way, not in a million years. our tension is, well, our tension! it's what happens normally!" you try to defend.

"no you're right won, they totally fucked. i mean the floor you guys are on? most of the rooms have king or queen sized beds. what would you guys be doing other than that? snuggling into each other till the sunrise?" riki assumes, scoffing afterwards.

your eyes widened in shock, as if jungwon cut your brain opened and took out the events of what happened this morning. you put your head in your hands once more before beginning to cry.

riki saw your reaction, "hey i didn't mean it that way! i mean it's- um... great? if you fucked? but if not then that's like, totally okay! i mean sex isn't for everyone—"

sunoo cut him off, shooing him away, "stop making it worse, ki-yah! y/nie? will you tell us what happened?"

you sniffed, not knowing why you suddenly burst into tears, maybe it was the frustration? you grabbed a tissue to compose yourself, "i don't know... all i remember is i woke up this morning, in his arms, and i just jumped out and got ready. we didn't even talk about it. all of a sudden he's back to his old self and he's being mean to me again."

you take a deep breath, sunoo rubbing you on the back, trying to calm you down. "he's been like this ever since i transferred. i was just the new girl who was a press prodigy, that's what they called me back at decelis, and i don't know, he's hated me every since. no reason whatsoever. i've tried to win his attention by winning muns and stuff but, it doesn't matter. he looks at me as if i disappoint him."

jungwon and riki both comfort you as well, before jungwon has a strike of realization. "you know, it's not that i wanna stir up delusion in your mind, but it's quite common for guys to hate someone because they like them. what if he has a crush on you?"

riki realizes as well, "yeah what if? what if all this time he's been trying so hard to hate you because he actually likes you?"

hearing the words likes you come out of their mouths makes you shudder in fear. no way he likes you. right?

before you knew it, your chair returns to announce that press conferences are due to start soon. and up first? was the crisis council.

stepping foot into the crisis room, with the information in mind, you start to notice the tiny little characteristics that match with the fact. the fact that the lee heeseung might as well have a crush on you. as you, sunoo, and two other journalists were guided to the front of the room, your chair explaining to the crisis delegates how the press conference was going to work, before giving the floor to the journalists.

you keep your head hung, distracting yourself by re-reading the questions you’ve written on your notepad, peeking through your hair, trying to take a glimpse of heeseung.

heeseung was in his element as always, head deep in his laptop, a couple volunteers passing by to give him a post-it note, filled with scribbles of other delegates wishing to be on his side. but as per usual, his critical self crumples the notes and puts it aside to his pile of other crumpled notes.

sunoo, on your left, nudges you in the arm, trying to snap you out of it. the moment you lift your head to look at the delegates and compose yourself, you catch heeseung looking at you.

with your bloodshot eyes, your usual smile fading, heeseung can’t help but notice what happened. you were fine last break. your eyes which used to be sparkling with curiosity had been traded for puffy eyes and a fake smile.

he wanted to come up to you, wanted to ask what’s wrong. but as your chair introduced the journalists, he’d wonder if it was just an impulsive thought.

each journalist had to share 10 minutes worth of press conference time to ask questions, a tight amount of time. as the journalist on your far left begins, the clock begins to tick. being the last journalist to ask, you begin to feel worried.

but as the mic is passed to you, and mere two minutes left on the clock, you scramble to compose yourself and your questions. “this journalist would like to open the question to the floor, with the excessive drug trade impacting the economy of your countries, what is an effective solution you’d have to decrease the drug circulation, but at the same time, would not damage your economy?”

placards were raised, and amongst them, were heeseung’s. you could see the colombian flag on his placard raised high, but as the journalist of the new york times, your work came first. therefore, you chose someone else. “yes, delegate of the united states?”

the delegate of the united states stood up, and you finally saw the name on his nametag. yang jeongin. he smirked at you, sending a wink. “thank you madam journalist for the intriguing question, as the drug trade across our country begins to increase…”

as you held your hand forward holding your phone out to record his answer, continuing to talk for the next minute. it felt like a lifetime. but in the corner of your eye, you could feel his gaze burning holes. heeseung held his placard high, glaring dead straight at jeongin even if he was still speaking. but as you thank jeongin for his answer, you open the question once more to the floor.

you hear a screech of the chair as heeseung, the only one holding his placard up, stands up to answer. but you don’t discern anything he says. you just stare at him. before you knew it, the clock rang, signaling that time was up.

sunoo nudged your arm once more, trying to snap you out of it. “you okay?” he asked, worry written all over his face. you nodded to tell him you were okay.

as you were escorted out of the room to head to the hotel restaurant for lunch break, you couldn't help but feel the same feeling of heeseung's gaze at the back of your head. you ignored him, walking out with sunoo by your side.

but you were stopped briefly by someone, none other than the delegate of the united states. "hey, that was a very interesting question you asked earlier at press conference. i was wondering if you need my insight on anything? given as i'm usa and you're the new york times." jeongin suggests, his usual smirk returning from before. sunoo winked at you, before leaving the two of you alone in the hallway.

you blink at him, "oh! yeah, i was thinking about gaining insight from, well our country's side of the story. so what can you tell me?"

your notepad flips open along the click of your pen, ready to jot down his words, before out of the corner of your eye, that sharp gaze returns. the burning stare heeseung emitted was back. you gulped and let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "hey, um jeongin? could we find somewhere a bit more quiet so i can record the interview? i need to make sure everything is clear because i need to submit the questions to my chairs."

jeongin smiled, "of course sweetheart, i know just the place." before he took your hand and led you away. unbeknownst to you, heeseung was fuming.

as the two of you walked away, heeseung couldn't help but wonder. what's so great about yang jeongin anyways? compared to himself, his track record was not all that. yeah he may have won most outstanding or honorable mention a couple times, but never best delegate. consecutively.

heeseung felt a tap on his shoulder, before briefly turning around. jay was standing there with a cup of coffee. he grabbed it out of his hands before immediately drinking out of it.

"that's! hot coffee..." jay protested. but to heeseung, his rage burned hotter. "what's got your panties in a twist?" jay asked, sipping his own cup of coffee.

"nothing, just pissed at a delegate. per usual." heeseung lied. as the two begun to make their way to restaurant to eat lunch.

jay chuckled, seeing his pissed face, "dude, i've known you for over eight years, you don't get pissed at a delegate for no reason. this is harvard model congress for god's sake, everyone here? they're basically professionals. mun legends. i wouldn't have afford this shit if i wasn't good at it. the awards and prizes helped fund this hobby."

heeseung sighed, "it's not just a delegate. it's someone else."

"it's y/n, isn't it?" heeseung snapped his head to glare at jay, as if he grew three heads. "chill dude, i can tell. you're painfully in love with her."

"no no no, you don't get it, she's a menace to my track record. do you remember back at decelis mun before she transferred? her article basically ruined my record the next five muns? i basically had to avoid chairing so the rumors wouldn't be deemed true." heeseung argued, reminiscing the times.

"but you'd argue she's a damn good writer, isn't she?" jay defended, "i mean no one from decelis has won consecutively aside from you. and she comes in to make the decelis name proud. aren't you glad? you're secgen after all. you're just in denial."

heeseung sighed, looking at his cup of coffee, once full, now empty. "i'm not in denial! i'm just stressed with a couple delegates in committee session, unmoderated caucus was, stressful."

entering the restaurant, their eyes landed to the corner booth, where you sat face to face with jeongin. jay turned his head to look at heeseung staring deadset at the two. "well, whatever floats your boat man, i'm gonna get some lunch. unsc might as well go to crisis next comses." jay pats him on the back, joining sunghoon, jake, wonyoung, and minjeong.

heeseung stood still. he couldn't help but wonder. is this what love feels like?

"so, yang jeongin, what can you tell me about the united states' stance on the current illegal drug trade? i assume that the country is fully aware of it happening?" you ask, pressing record on your voicenotes app.

jeongin looked around, before reaching over and pressing the stop recording button on your phone. before you could protest, "okay cut the crap, what's going on between you and lee heeseung?"

you looked at him strangely, not expecting the sudden confrontation. "well, nothing? i don't know what you want me to say, this isn't part of the interview."

jeongin dug into his food, "screw that shit, i wanna know why your secgen is all on my ass. i mean i looked at you once at comses earlier, and he looked at me like i lit an orphanage on fire."

you almost choked on your pasta, "what the hell, dude. he's just like that. he hates my guts so much he has to make me feel uncomfortable everywhere i go. i literally bring home decelis as many awards as he has in the past two years. i don't get him."

"nah, i don't think that's hate. he looked at me as if he was clyde and i was trying to steal away his bonnie. that's a look of love."

you sighed, "the thing is jeongin, he doesn't care. i've done everything to pique his attention, best journalist awards left and right, i was supposed to run for deputy secgen but he didn't let me. he said i wasn't a true decelis muner yet. i mean 8 muns in the span of a couple months? and i've never lost a single one? he probably hates me because i chose the lamest council."

jeongin swallows his food before he comes to realization, "hey weren't you the journalist who wrote on heeseung back at decelis' mun? i remember felix-hyung, my friend, that he went feral over it. he was chairing unicef, and in the chairs' room, he overheard heeseung talking about your article. how it was going to ruin his track record, or something."

"i mean, i do remember briefly. wonyoung, my chair, said i was allowed to write about the chairs or staff, even if they were filler articles. i wrote about heeseung and jay out of interest, i didn't know their history." you confessed, feeling quite bad about the outcome. "i didn't want my article to end up being gossip or shit talk, i just wrote what i wanted to."

"freedom of the press, am i right?" jeongin laughed, "speaking of the devil." signaling heeseung heading towards your table.

heeseung stood at your table. "yang. l/n." before scooting next to jeongin's side of the booth. you couldn't help but move your eyes between the two. after what sunoo and the boys told you earlier, and jeongin's confirmation that basically people could tell, you sit there in silence.

heeseung clears his throat, "well i'm not seeing much interviewing going on, delegates."

you scoffed at him, "it's none of your business heeseung. we're all delegates, it's lunch break. you don't have to boss around all the time."

"our decelis guidebook strictly confers to not confide in the enemy. and here you are, with the enemy. you know if you spill precious information regarding us we'd be dead?" he scolded you.

a laugh escaped your throat, "the enemy? jeongin is far from the enemy to me. matter of fact, heeseung, you've been more of an enemy to me rather than a secgen."

jeongin whispered, "keep it down y/n, it's okay."

you stood up in anger, "no it's not okay! i've been trying my hardest to do everything i can, i've won consecutively since my first mun at decelis, i've done everything you ask for. i've done nothing but make the decelis name proud, but i just can't happen to make you proud. what do i have to do next? i do everything and all i do is fall at second best. if you hate me so much then kick me off the goddamn team! wouldn't want me tarnishing your precious track record by having a traitor on the team, would you? all this over a stupid article i wrote months ago." you walk away from the table, returning to your room.

heeseung was speechless, the rest of the room was in awe, normally delegates would be able to stay professional. even if there was a break up or something. even wonyoung and minjeong looked at heeseung in anger, meanwhile jake, jay, and sunghoon looked at him in disappointment. jeongin stood up and left the booth, avoiding any more anger out of heeseung. "if i were you, i'd apologize. that girl has done nothing but try to please you and make you proud. start there." jeongin added before leaving.

out of habit, heeseung hung his head low in embarrassment. this was worse than the time you wrote that article about him. as he stood up to confide in the boys for advice, he spots a small leather notepad in the corner of the booth. it was yours. he'd have to find you, face you and give it back. it wouldn't hurt to read a bit of what's inside, right?

running back to your room, you couldn't dare return till next comses. the fact that an entire room full of delegates and chairs had heard you scream at heeseung's face. and returning back to the bed you woke up from this morning, limbs tangled with heeseung, didn't really help.

hiding your face in your bedsheets, tears flowing freely, you couldn't help but smell the familiar cologne he had left behind. the smell stung your nose, and made your eyes water more. the scent that once plagued you, now had lulled you to sleep.

a blurry facade appeared, the sound of heavy noise music remained muffled. your feet were cold on the hotel floor, destination? room 777. you were swaying side to side, but thankfully you were able to hold on to a pillar, which was moving with you.

"we shouldn't have drunk this much, right l/n? i'm not even sure i'm prepped for comses tomorrow morning." the pillar said.

"you have it easy, lee. you don't have to write 4 pieces worth of mandatory articles and observe other council's committee sessions." you replied, a clear slur in your voice.

it, who turned out to be heeseung, laughed, and it was like music to your ears. "i thought you journalists just copy-pasted shit off google or something, didn't get why you'd have to sit in the back of council rooms."

you scoffed at him, "well, as secretary-general, you should've known better. if only you noticed what i've been doing all this time to get your attention, maybe you would've understood."

"you think i haven't been paying attention? i've had my eyes on you ever since you wrote that silly article about me back at decelis mun. 'who's really chairing crisis?' you do know me and jay have been friends since primary, right?" he argued.

"that i know know, lee. the fact that you caused all the fuss over an article that was purely for mun, and had no ill intention is just stupid. i just wanted to be able to express myself." you confessed, feeling underestimated.

he sighed, pressing the up button on the lift, "it's not that i fussed over an article, it's that you wrote about me. i don't see many people brave enough to write about a secretary-general." before he could continue, the doors to the lift dinged and opened, allowing the two of you to walk in.

"i mean," he stuttered, clicking the number seven on the lift's buttons, "you amazed me. i've never met a person who could express themselves so much through their writing. no one paid attention to me enough to write such a critical piece about me."

you smiled at him, "so i'm special? i was the first to write about you, right?" he chuckled at your cheeky comment, "yes you're a first. i wouldn't mind if you kept writing about me."

"but why'd you hate me? i've done so much for decelis to make you proud, but you still have a way to butcher me. i just wanted to impress you." you'd sighed into his chest, the world beginning to spin.

luckily, heeseung had caught you before you fell, right on time as the lift reached the seventh floor. he basically carried you out, trying not to drop you.

"if i hated you so much, i wouldn't be helping you get back to our room, nor would i be making sure you get back safely." he assured you, holding you in his arms.

you groaned in protest, "but you do, don't you? i'm never enough for you, after everything i've done. all the things i did—"

you were shut up by his lips on yours. out of the blue, with no warning signs, he had kissed you. out of habit you kissed him back, lips molding against each other as if you had been waiting for years, as if you couldn't live without each other. all hatred you held against him dissipated. your arms crawling towards the back of his neck to pull him closer, his own pulling on your waist.

he pulled away to take a breath, but you couldn't breathe. he was your oxygen. you connected the two of you together, chasing his lips, his touch, his presence. it was the sweetness, the flavor of love and lust hanging. you’ve been craving his attention, hell, even his touch for months.

but your lungs craved oxygen, forcing you to pull away, hiding your face in his chest. as you were taking in the moment, he chuckled, "i wouldn't have done that if i hated you, would i?"

waking up with a jolt, the memories of last night came rushing in. you thanked yourself that the two of you hadn't fucked, but the idea of kissing him and liking it gave yourself insight. you wondered if heeseung remembered too.

opening your phone and seeing the time, you rushed out of your room as you were late to your next editorial meeting. it being the last committee session of the day, all you had to do was submit your mandatory articles of the day, and you'd be done. running back to your council room, knocking slightly on the door, you rushed back to your seat.

"journalist, you're late. why is that?" shuhua asked, beomgyu beside her, taking notes.

you sat down and composed yourself, "i'm sorry chairs, i slept in during break. it won't happen again."

the chairs nodded at you, letting it pass. the room discussed about how press conferences was, reminding the journalists of the upcoming deadline, but your mind was in the gutter.

you touch your lips, and you feel the lingering taste on your tongue. you were shocked out of your trance with the knocks of the chairs' gavel hitting the sound block. with only an hour left to finish your mandatory article, you begin to type.

social night was an mun tradition. after a full day of committee sessions, all councils, no matter what their council was, it gave a chance for all the delegates to mingle amongst each other.

free from the deadline of your first mandatory article, you had the whole night to party it out before tomorrow, where you had to finish your final mandatory article.

social nights usually had themes, and tonight, harvard model congress' was inspired by bridgerton, along with masquerade masks were in array. you had packed a a black dress, which belonged to your mother. she’d always tell you to save it for a special occasion, a moment you wouldn’t want to forget. and for tonight, as you miss your mom's touch, you wear your dress with pride.

walking to the venue, and right before you could even enter, you’re immediately greeted by wonyoung and minjeong. "oh my god sweets are you okay?" wonyoung asked, holding your face, clear worry in her eyes. "we heard and saw what happened at lunch, good for you to finally confront the bitch." minjeong commented, which earned her, once again, another slap on the arm by wonyoung.

you nodded at the two, holding their hands, "i'm fine, don't worry. i just needed to get it out of my system, that's all."

"to think of it, i haven't seen him since. normally when you pass by the crisis room, you'd hear his voice bouncing off the walls..." wonyoung confessed, "that's very unlike of him."

minjeong scoffs at her comment, "who cares? he's been downplaying y/n's achievements for the past couple months, i wouldn't be able to stay quiet if i were you."

you sighed at the two bickering in front of you, "guys, i just want tonight to be about us. this is harvard model congress for god's sake, i want to make the best out of it. so can we stop the heeseung talk and have some fun? please?"

the two nodded at your request, not pestering you any further. you all walk into the venue, being handed masquerade masks. the venue was decorated to the nines, and it felt like a ball straight out of bridgerton. the three of you were guided to your delegation table, which seated you, the girls, jake, and sunghoon. but heeseung? he was no where to be found.

"where's heeseung? it's not like him to miss out on social night." jake asked you.

you sat down on your assigned seat, and the seat on your right, which was supposed to occupy heeseung, was cold and empty. "why are you asking me? he hates me, remember?"

jake shrugged, "i don't know, i just reckoned that since the two of you are sharing a room, you'd know where he is."

minjeong scoffs, "who cares? y/n got ready at me and wony's room anyways, so no, we don't know where he is."

"jay said earlier today that he's been looking for him. wonder where he went. and if he found him..." sunghoon tells the table, sipping on his glass of water.

stuck in your trance, you were snapped out of it by a screeching of a chair, one, being jay, and the other was right next to you. heeseung. he was in his usual suit and tie, a couple buttons on the top were unbuttoned. you glanced at his tired eyes, hidden underneath the masquerade mask.

"dude? where've you been?" jake asked jay, slapping him on the shoulder.

jay sighed and drank a gulp of his water, "looking for this asshole over here." while pointing at heeseung, "took me a while to find him literally on the rooftop. i swear seoul uni has the most crazy hideouts. i'm not even sure i can even find my way back."

"how'd you find your way there anyways?" sunghoon asked heeseung.

he sighed, "don't know. just, found it." his demeanor slipping away as you begin to see the raw brokenness. you didn't hurt his ego that much, right?

as the clock struck seven, waiters all around the room began laying out the meals. you took a glimpse of the dinner courses in front of you, not really having an appetite for anything. but you still tried to eat, tried not to waste your food, tried to seem okay in front of him.

heeseung, on the other hand, was trying his best not to combust. sitting next to you was hard enough, but the fact you were wearing such a beautiful dress had him awestruck. he also lost his appetite. he couldn't help but stare at you.

after dinner, your friends stood up and ran over to the dance floor, and you were unfortunately dragged along. a remix of many famous hits were played, before you sang your hearts out to iris, by the goo goo dolls. you felt someone tap you on your shoulder, which to your surprise you see jeongin.

"could i have this dance?" he asked, hand out for you to grab, iris still playing in the background.

you nodded and grabbed his hand before you two danced foolishly to iris, heels discarded, his suit as well, just dancing your hearts out. but you had your limits, you were tired and excused yourself to grab some water. before you felt a nudge on your right, as heeseung leaned towards your ear. "can we talk later? don't say no just yet, just follow the green post its."

he walks away, as you look at him in confusion. feeling bad for what you said at lunch, you decide to meet him and see what he has to say.

following the pins of green post-its he left behind, you find yourself at the hidden rooftop jay was talking about at dinner. you open the door to be shocked at the view. the stars twinkling in the night sky. and stood there near the edge, was heeseung.

you broke the silence, clearing your throat, "you wanted to speak to me?"

heeseung looked at you and your dress, his mind going places. "yeah. i did. i'm not expecting an apology. i deserve it."

"but why'd you hate me so much, heeseung?" you whined at him, sick of his jokes.

"the thing is l/n, i don't!" he shouts, walking towards you, "it's not that i hate you, it's that i hate the way you make me feel. i hate the way you're so good at writing, i hate the way you win everything to make me proud, i hate the way you know my weaknesses, i hate the way you never gave up. you're on my mind every fucking day."

you walk up towards him, pulling his suit to pull him down, and him not expecting anything, you slap him across his face.

heeseung immediately pulled back, "ow! what was that for?"

"that was for not telling me about how you felt. you didn't have to bottle it up, you know?" you scoffed.

"and you didn't have to either!" he protested back, pulling out a familiar journal. your journal.

you grabbed it from his hands, "how'd you find this? i didn't even realize it was missing..."

heeseung sighed, "you know for a smart writer like you, you're very forgetful." a smile beginning to emerge.

"what did you read, heeseung? tell me." you asked, afraid that your secrets would spill out.

heeseung walked towards you, "enough to know that you're too stubborn to even tell me the truth. if you'd been feeling this way for months then you should have told me."

you gasped at him, "i would have told you about it if you weren't such a dick all the time? and then you kissing me last night just added more fuel to the fire." not realizing what you said, heeseung cupped your face, which was full of confusion.

"you remember last night?"

you blinked. "everything."

he laughed, "then you'd know i wouldn't hate you as much if i was doing this, would i?"

the familiar taste of his lips returned as he kissed you. you held onto his hands as he caressed your face. the oxygen you once craved had been fulfilled. you strung your arms around his neck, clinging onto him for dear life. you could feel the burst of sparks just surrounding the two of you, a moment you both craved.

the wavering facade between the two finally faded, unleashing the raw desire the two of you had, rushing through your veins.

you pulled away, heeseung leaning his forehead onto yours, before he gave you his best smile. you blushed out of nervousness and proximity the two of you held, not used to this view.

"you still hate me now?" you joked, smiling at him. his eyes softened, before he laughed, and kissing you once more, not wanting to let go. and as the stars glimmered under the night sky, you forgot time ever existed. forget the committee sessions due tomorrow, it was the two of you against the world.

surely, waking up on the final day of the conference would give you a sense of peace, right? wrong. you had spent so much time last night making out and talking with heeseung that you forgot your final mandatory article was due soon. waking up from the bed the two shared, limbs tangled once more, this time, you weren't ashamed.

you kissed heeseung's forehead to wake him up, and despite heeseung's wishes to stay in and make out some more, you declined and got ready.

"can't you just stay? a bit late to the first comses of the day won't hurt your awards." heeseung groaned, asking you to return.

"i was late at yesterday's comses post-lunch, so i think i'm going to be a good girl and come early to this one." you replied, fixing your tie.

heeseung basically stood up and tried to pull you back to bed, "come on, just be my good girl. i promise you will be awarded with all of my kisses in the world."

you shook your head, "missing out on a couple kisses won't be the death of me. come on, you need to prep for comses too."

heeseung moaned in complaint, "no, i'd break my streak for you, i don't care. i just want to stay in with you, away from everybody."

you were able to crawl your way out of his touch, "nope! i'm not letting you lose your streak just over me. come on, get ready. i'm going down for breakfast."

"can i at least have a goodbye kiss before you go?" he pouted, and the way his eyes resembled bambi, you gave in.

you tried to just give him a quick peck, but his touch was so fragile and welcoming, that if you didn't stand your ground, you'd probably be pinned down till the rest of the day. but you didn't want that, so you let go of his touch, assuring him that you'd spend more time with him after the conference.

now, here you were, back in your conference room with a giddy look on your face. you couldn't help but dream of last night. even sunoo, riki, jungwon, along with wonyoung, minjeong, and sunghoon, were even surprised to see you better all of a sudden.

"okay is this some weird process girls do the cope with sadness, cause if so how do we fix her?" sunoo asked, concerned.

wonyoung was staring at you like you were beaming, "it looks like pregnancy glow."

riki basically spit out his coffee, "wait so they actually fucked?"

minjeong snapped at riki, "who fucked?"

"we had speculation that, y/n and heeseung fucked the first night, hence why she was out of it the next day..." jungwon explained to the rest.

sunghoon, the only person out of the group who happened to know heeseung the best, commented that; "no there's no way he fucked her. if they fucked, they wouldn't have been here."

"could you stop speculating that me and heeseung fucked?" you snapped at the group. not out of anger, but annoyed that you couldn't concentrate.

"sorry, but did you?" riki enquired, earning him a riki! from the group around him. "what? i just wanna know."

you sighed, standing up and packing a couple things, "who cares if we fucked or not? just leave us alone." as you head out of the council room, heading to the crisis room for some final details.

contrary to how you first felt when you walked into the room, your heart felt full of hope. that this time, heeseung wouldn't be staring at you with hatred, instead of love. you hoped you wouldn't distract him.

as you walked into the council room, you nodded at chair yeonjun, before taking a seat at the prepared seats for the journalists. you sit down, open your laptop as you're typing your final mandatory article. you tried to glimpse towards heeseung, but you were returned with the same feeling as yesterday. the sharp gaze was back. maybe it's because he's in is element? mun is important to him... you thought, and busied yourself to writing your article. since it was your final committee session, you just had to submit your article and return for the closing editorial meeting. quickly clicking submit, and the chairs deeming the final committee session over, you wanted to sneak a quick kiss before returning for your meeting.

you stood up from your seat and walked towards heeseung. he stood up and saw you, walking your way. instead of being greeted by a hug or a kiss, he brushed past you to talk to his fellow delegates. you felt a pang in your chest, the way heeseung ignored you like that. you thought everything was okay. the kisses you shared, the conversations you had. you looked back at heeseung only to see him busy talking with the other delegates, barely sparing you a glance. you left the room quickly, not looking back.

unbeknownst to you, heeseung saw you leaving, his heart barely surviving after treating you like that. you deserved better than him. he couldn't have it all.

the final editorial meeting of press councils should be a joy to you. no more deadlines, no more press conferences. but you were stuck in your head. repeating the interaction over and over in your head, you didn't understand a single thing.

after the comments and input from both the chairs and the journalists, chair shuhua decided to pull out the gossip box. you'd been informed prior about the gossip box filling at social night, but since you ran off with heeseung to make out the night away, you didn't have time to fill it in.

as shuhua and beomgyu begin to read the entries, earning laughter all around the room, a certain entry snaps you out of your trance.

"oh this is a good one! new york times from press and colombia from crisis actually fit really good together! hope the enemies finally turn into lovers! wait is this about y/n and heeseung?" chair shuhua asks, causing the whole room to look at you.

you looked at everyone strangely, "what? there's nothing."

chair beomgyu shook his head, "no no no, i don't think there's nothing. come on spill the tea, something must've happened the past three days."

everybody was waiting on your response. waiting for you to tell everyone what happened. you just wanted them to shut up. "okay well. we kissed."

the group of six who were pestering you earlier, gasped loudly. earning you a rumble of no shit's, wait actually's, and a loud jinjja?!

you couldn't help but sink back into your seat, still upset about the way he treated you earlier. "yeah, but he's treating me like shit again today, so. that's that."

the entire room aww'ed in disappointment, before the chairs read out a couple more entries, and adjourns the final editorial. you stand up to clean your table, taking out a pen to begin signing each others' placards. signing everybody else's, photo sessions were in array, and after you were finally allowed to have some free time before awarding ceremony.

awarding ceremony was one of those moments where you have hope, but at the same time you don't. you start rethinking choices you made during the conference, wondering if you made the right option. you headed your way to where the press council was sat at, where you met a couple other delegates, even bumping into jeongin, wishing each other a good luck!

you sit down between wonyoung and minjeong, which earned you an endearing hug from the two, assuring your problems with heeseung didn't matter. stuck in your head, you didn't notice the boys' absence in the room. and awarding had begun. the secretary-general of harvard model congress came up and made their speech, thanking all the delegates for participating and giving their best. chairs from other councils begin to come up to give their awards.

meanwhile, outside of the room, was heeseung cornered by jay, jake, and sunghoon.

heeseung, not caught up with the situation, looked at the three with confusion. "what did i do?"

jay scoffed, "what did you do? you managed to fuck it up again? what did i tell you?!" shaking the life out of him.

heeseung shook his head in confusion, not knowing what to do, when sunghoon came up to him, "look man, your little feud with y/n has to stop. i don't get you anymore. i thought you'd be good at this after helping me and wonyoung get together..."

"nah dude you're in denial. what do you mean you two basically confessed to not hating each other and then made out a bunch of times, only for you to leave her and ignore her like so? that's crazy." jake protested. that was the truth.

"i don't know what to tell you, but me and jake have got to get back for unsc awarding, but please think about it? i know you feel scared of this whole love thing, but i assure you, it's okay to feel this way." jay says, leaving with jake, which left sunghoon with heeseung alone.

heeseung didn't know what to do. for the first time in his life, everything was out of his control. he craved you and needed you, but he felt like he didn't deserve you. it was as if a crisis was happening in his own mind.

as he hears the cheers of the room with every award that is given out, his heart races. he hears the announcement where jay and jake both won best delegates, which they had been double delegating in.

sunghoon kept trying to comfort heeseung, not knowing what to say to him. "look, i may not understand the way your mind works, but i assure you that you deserve her. you've put yourself through it all for decelis, and the track record that we have wouldn't have been what it is now if it wasn't for you. i don't know what plan you're cooking up, but whatever it is, win her back." heeseung looks at sunghoon with sheer nervousness in his eyes. "press and crisis are left, so whatever you want to do? do it now. before its too late."

leaving heeseung alone outside the room, sunghoon walks back in, returning to where the press journalists sat. he saw you picking on your nails out of habit, nervous for the next awards. as your chairs walk up to the podium, sunghoon just hopes heeseung would do something.

as names begin getting called out, sunoo winning best pre-conference video, then riki and jungwon winning verbal commendations, wonyoung and minjeong winning honorable mentions, you held on tight to the tiny string of hope left. it was probably between you and sunghoon left. as you look around the room, heeseung is still nowhere to be found. you had hoped that maybe with this win, you'd make him proud once and for all.

"the final two journalists were a tight match. these two shown impeccable talent in their articles and presence the past three days." shuhua announces. "it is with our great pleasure that the most outstanding journalist goes to, park sunghoon!"

wonyoung, who was on the stage prior, basically screams in joy. you high five sunghoon before he winks at you, knowing you'd win best journalist. but a part of you still thinks you won't.

beomgyu gives sunghoon his award, before adjusting his mic. "this final journalist has pure talent in her writing, and have awestruck the both of us with her work. without further ado, we would like to present that the best journalist award goes to none other than... l/n y/n!"

relief. that's all what washes towards you. yes you've heard your name and the words best journalist go along too often, but every time it happens, it always feels euphoric. as you walk up the stage to receive your award, earning smiles from the other awardees, you couldn't help but look to the crowd.

you see jay and jake basically jumping up and down in joy, but heeseung was still nowhere to be found. a pang of disappointment burns in your chest as you walk down the podium with your certificate in hand. an array of congratulations! are heard, as you sit back down for the final awarding. crisis.

zoning out, after feeling the euphoria of your win, your mind drifts off to heeseung. how would he feel? was he proud?

as chair yeonjun announces the awardees, you are cut out of your trance with every round of applause. you see jeongin win most outstanding, and you cheer for him.

as yeonjun clears his throat for the final award, he begins his speech. "this final award goes to a delegate who really deserves it all. although this mun may have not been his best run, he deserves so much more than the title: prodigy. i'd like to present this best delegate award to none other than... you know what? lee heeseung get up here, get your award, and get your girl!"

with pure shock, you watch as heeseung bursts through the doors, run up to the podium, quickly shake his chairs' hands, grabs his certificate, and runs down. and he's running to you.

he drops his certificate on the floor, before engulfing you in the biggest hug he's ever given in his life. spinning you around, you squeal in excitement. he whispers in your ear an array of i'm so proud of you's, before putting you down, and kissing you in front of everyone.

you cling onto him, parting your lips allowing him to kiss you deeper and deeper, and the feeling of sparks flying around you made it feel like it would last forever. your ears muffle all the cheers surrounding you, only focusing on heeseung, and heeseung only.

he puts you down and rests his forehead on yours, exactly like how he did on the rooftop the night before. "how'd you pull this off?" you ask him, still on cloud nine.

"eh, had some help from chair yeonjun. didn't expect the bestdel though." heeseung laughs, holding you by the waist, tighter, and tighter.

you held his face closer, wanting to feel his touch, "why'd you do that? why'd you run?"

"y/n. i love you. i never knew how to say it all this time, because it's a feeling unlike any other. to the point it made me feel as if my life was in crisis. but that's when i realized i never had it all. not until i found you."

taglist; @riekiss @sesameoil721 @desistay @capri-cuntz @beomluvrr @shawnyle @tya0 @heexoolio @sunghoonsgff @spiderhanzzz (crossed out = i can't tag you)

back to my masterlist?

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction.

© 𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐇𝐄𝐄, est. 2024 | do not plagiarize, modify, translate, or repost my works on any platforms.

[mrfoox]

People showing interest and consistent interest in me always makes me worried... Wish my mind wasn't this way

[koyagifs]

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓾𝓵𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓼

pairing: san x nurse!reader ft wooyoung au: strangers to lovers | nurse genre: angst with happy ending word count:13.4k synopsis: he fell first, she fell harder. warning(s): mentions of cancer, character death, grief, hospitals. author note: get your tissues, it's a long one.

San stared at the ceiling tiles, their bland uniformity etched into his memory after a year and a half of treatment. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, casting uneven shadows across the sterile room. He exhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that had become second nature during these long, grueling sessions.

It was his last day of chemotherapy.

The thought tasted bittersweet. The end of this chapter, yes, but also the end of the routine that had strangely grounded him in the chaos of fighting for his life. A mix of relief, apprehension, and the faintest sliver of hope swirled in his chest.

He glanced down at his wrist, where the IV dripped steadily into his veins, delivering the last of the poison that was somehow saving him. His fingers tightened into a fist, the effort reminding him he was still here—still fighting.

“ doing alright there mr. choi?”

San turned his head, the soft voice pulling him out of his thoughts. The nurse was approaching with a familiar, radiant smile and a small snack in her hand. Her kindness had been a constant through the grueling months, her gentle humor and warm presence something he always looked forward to.

She set the snack down on the tray beside him, brushing her hands off casually. The way her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled made his heart skip a beat. It was a moment—brief, almost imperceptible—but it struck him with an unexpected intensity.

And then, guilt crept in, sharp and unrelenting. He shouldn’t feel this way. He couldn’t. He had a girlfriend—a sweetheart who had stood by his side through every hospital visit, every sleepless night, every doubt and fear. She was his rock, his reason to keep fighting.

So why did he feel this flutter of something unfamiliar whenever he saw you?

San smiled softly, nodding his head as he pushed the thoughts aside. “I’m fine. How are you, Nurse Yn?”

Your name rolled off his tongue with a certain ease, one that felt too familiar for comfort. You paused in your step, turning back toward him with that radiant smile still lighting up your face.

“Me? I’m good,” you replied, leaning slightly against the edge of his chair as you folded your arms. “Though I think I’ll miss seeing you around here, Mr. Choi. It’s not every day I meet someone who’s mastered sarcasm as well as you.”

He chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “It’s a talent. Comes with sitting in these chairs for too long.”

Your laugh joined his, and for a moment, the sterile hospital room felt a little brighter. But there it was again—that flutter in his chest, that traitorous feeling he couldn’t ignore.

you smiled at him sweetly, placing the snacks by his table side. “ congratulations by the way! youre last chemo today.”

San’s lips curved into a shy smile, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of the thin hospital blanket. “Thanks. Feels… surreal, honestly.”

“Oh, come on. I’m sure your girlfriend is ecstatic to have you cancer-free,” you teased lightly, your tone playful yet warm.

San’s smile faltered for the briefest moment, but he quickly masked it with a soft laugh. “Yeah, she is. She’s been my biggest supporter through all of this.”

Your eyes lit up, and you nodded approvingly. “She sounds like a keeper. I’m glad you had someone like that by your side.”

He forced another smile, though your words felt like a subtle jab at the guilt simmering in his chest. Of course, his girlfriend was amazing—loyal, loving, and unwavering in her support. She was everything anyone could ever hope for in a partner.

So why did his heart keep skipping a beat every time you smiled at him like that?

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice quieter. “She really is.”

You didn’t seem to notice the shift in his tone as you gave him a cheerful thumbs-up. “Well, she’ll be thrilled to celebrate this milestone with you. You deserve it, San.”

“Thanks,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to the table where the snack you’d brought him sat untouched.

As you turned to tend to another patient, San leaned back in his chair, staring at the same ceiling tiles that had been his constant companions for the past year and a half.

He clenched his jaw, trying to shake off the confusing thoughts. His girlfriend had stood by him through everything. He loved her. He owed her his life.

But when he caught a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye, laughing softly with another patient, he couldn’t help but wonder why you still lingered in his mind.

The doctor shook his girlfriend’s hand firmly, offering her a kind smile before turning to San, who sat slumped in the wheelchair. The nausea was overwhelming, making every movement feel heavier than it should. He didn’t have the strength to walk out of the hospital on his own, and he hated the helplessness of it all.

He felt the jerk of the wheelchair as his girlfriend began to push him toward the exit. The muffled hum of the hospital filled his ears—voices blending together, footsteps echoing faintly, machines beeping in the distance.

And then he heard your voice.

It cut through the noise like a melody he didn’t realize he’d been straining to hear.

San turned his head, his sluggish movements betraying his exhaustion. There you were, standing a few feet away, your smile as bright as ever as you laughed with an elderly patient. You were holding their hand gently, the warmth in your touch evident even from where he sat.

It was such a simple moment, so unremarkable to anyone else. But to San, it felt like time slowed, his chest tightening in a way that had nothing to do with the lingering effects of chemo.

“San?” His girlfriend’s voice pulled him back, her tone laced with concern. “You okay?”

He blinked, tearing his gaze away from you and nodding quickly. “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Just… tired.”

She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s get you home.”

San leaned back in the wheelchair, closing his eyes as they moved toward the exit. But no matter how hard he tried, the sound of your laugh and the image of your radiant smile refused to leave his mind.

“Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Choi!”

Your voice rang out, clear and bright, cutting through the muffled haze of the hospital sounds. It echoed just enough to draw attention, and San felt his heart thump loudly in his chest.

He couldn’t stop himself from glancing back over his shoulder, his tired eyes landing on you. You were walking toward them with that same warm smile, clipboard in hand, your steps light and purposeful.

San’s girlfriend stopped pushing the wheelchair and turned to face you. “Oh, hi!” she said cheerfully, her voice tinged with gratitude. “Thank you so much for taking care of San. You’ve been such a blessing.”

You waved off the compliment modestly, laughing softly. “It’s my job, really. But seeing patients like San make it all worth it. He’s been incredible through this whole process.”

San swallowed hard, your words making something twist in his chest. He wanted to respond, to thank you properly, but the lump in his throat made it impossible to speak. Instead, he nodded slightly, offering you a small, tired smile.

“I’m so glad he’s finished,” you continued, glancing at him with a sparkle of pride in your eyes. “You’ve fought so hard, Mr. Choi. You should be really proud of yourself.”

His girlfriend beamed, squeezing his shoulder again. “I know I’m proud of him.”

San forced another smile, the warmth of her words clashing with the flutter in his chest as he looked at you. You weren’t supposed to make him feel this way, but the way you smiled, the way your voice seemed to carry so much light—it was almost impossible not to.

“Well,” you said after a moment, stepping back slightly, “I won’t keep you. Just wanted to say goodbye and wish you all the best. Take care, Mr. Choi.”

“Thank you,” he finally managed, his voice raspy but sincere.

You gave one last cheerful wave before turning to head back down the hall, your presence leaving a lingering warmth in the air.

As his girlfriend started pushing the wheelchair again, San leaned back, staring up at the ceiling tiles. His chest felt heavy, but his heart… his heart was still racing.

When you walked back to the nurses’ station, a small sigh escaped your lips as you set down the clipboard and started organizing the files scattered across the desk. You barely had a moment to gather your thoughts before one of your colleagues sidled up beside you, a sly grin already plastered on their face.

“Sad Mr. Lover Boy is gone, hm?” they teased, their tone dripping with playful mischief.

Rolling your eyes, you turned to your colleague with a faint laugh. "So not appropriate, Jen," you said, shaking your head.

Jen smirked, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. "Oh, come on. I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking. Mr. Lover Boy had heart eyes for you."

Another colleague joined in, grinning. "She’s not wrong, you know. The guy practically lit up whenever you walked into the room."

You groaned, covering your face with your hands for a moment. "He’s a patient. A patient with a girlfriend, I might add. That’s the end of it."

Jen shrugged, still grinning. "Hey, I didn’t say you did anything wrong. But you can’t deny the connection. Even she noticed it—did you see how tight her grip was on his wheelchair?”

Your blush deepened, and you waved them off. "Alright, that’s enough gossip for today. Go do something useful!"

They laughed but eventually dispersed, leaving you alone at the station. You leaned against the counter, taking a deep breath as you stared at the hallway where you’d last seen San.

Their words swirled in your mind, unwelcome and unsettling. You told yourself it didn’t matter. San was gone, and so was the strange fluttering feeling you’d tucked away every time you saw him.

At least, that’s what you hoped.

Yn let out a sigh of relief as she finally slipped into the driver’s seat of her car. The tension from the long day began to melt away as she leaned back against the seat, letting the quiet hum of the vehicle surround her. A soft smile tugged at her lips as she reached up and pulled down the visor.

There it was—the photo she always kept tucked into the little slot. You and Wooyoung, beaming at the camera, his arm thrown casually around your shoulders. The memory of that day warmed your heart, and for a moment, the heaviness of the day’s events didn’t feel so overwhelming.

“Another day, Woo,” you murmured, your smile widening as your fingertips brushed the edge of the photo. “Another day down.”

The thought of him brought a sense of comfort, grounding you in a way nothing else could. No matter how chaotic or emotional your workday had been, Wooyoung was your constant—a reminder. Your motive to continue.

As you pulled into the driveway and cut the engine, a sigh of relief left your lips. Home. Finally. The day had been long, draining in ways you didn’t expect, and all you wanted now was to collapse onto the couch and let yourself unwind.

But just as your hand reached for the door handle, the sharp ring of your phone broke the silence, making you groan aloud. You fished it out of your bag, your thumb hovering over the screen as you debated ignoring it.

Of course, it was work. You glanced at the caller ID and let out another groan, already bracing yourself for whatever crisis couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

With a resigned sigh, you answered, pressing the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Yn, hey—it’s Jen,” came the familiar voice, slightly rushed but apologetic. “Sorry to call you so late, but we’ve got a bit of an issue.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling the remnants of your energy slipping away. “What’s going on?”

“One of the patients from earlier today—Mr. Choi—he had a follow-up appointment scheduled, but there’s been a mix-up with his paperwork. The doctor’s asking if you could clarify a few things since you were the last one to update his chart.”

San. His name alone was enough to make your stomach twist, though you quickly shook it off. “Right now?”

“Yeah, I know it’s late, but it’s just a quick question. Won’t take more than a minute, I promise.”

You exhaled slowly, already unlocking the car door to grab your work bag from the passenger seat. “Alright, give me a second to find the notes. Hold on.”

As you rifled through your bag, you couldn’t help but feel a strange pang in your chest. Of all the patients they could have called you about, it had to be him.

As you rifled through your bag, flipping past loose papers and half-empty pens, you couldn’t ignore the strange pang in your chest. Of all the patients they could have called you about, it had to be him.

San.

His name lingered in your mind like an echo, stirring up a mix of emotions you weren’t sure you wanted to unpack. You tried to focus on the task at hand, pulling out the small notebook where you jotted down quick notes throughout the day.

“Got it,” you said into the phone, flipping through the pages. “What do they need to know?”

Jen hummed on the other end, her tone shifting to something a little lighter. “They’re just wondering if you remember updating his discharge instructions. The system’s showing a discrepancy, and the doc doesn’t want him leaving without proper follow-up care.”

Your brow furrowed as you scanned your notes. You could picture the moment clearly—his tired eyes, the soft thanks in his voice as you handed him the folder. “Yeah, I gave him the instructions. Everything’s in his folder. Maybe there was a system glitch?”

“Figures,” Jen muttered. “Alright, I’ll let them know. Sorry to bother you with this.”

You let out a soft hum of acknowledgment before ending the call, slipping your phone back into your bag. The day felt impossibly long as you stepped out of the car, the cool evening air brushing against your skin. With a deep breath, you walked toward your front door, fumbling for your keys.

As you unlocked the door and stepped inside, the familiar comfort of home wrapped around you like a warm blanket. The faint scent of lavender from the diffuser greeted you, and the soft hum of the fridge in the quiet kitchen was oddly soothing.

Dropping your bag onto the nearest chair, you kicked off your shoes and let out a long sigh. The weight of the day pressed on you, but it was a relief to finally be in your own space.

You wandered to the living room, flipping on a dim lamp before collapsing onto the couch. Closing your eyes for a moment, you tried to shake the lingering thoughts of work—and of him.

But as much as you wanted to let it all fade, the image of San’s tired yet grateful smile flashed in your mind. You groaned softly, running a hand through your hair.

“Get a grip, Yn,” you muttered to yourself. “He’s just a patient. That’s all.”

Still, no matter how many times you told yourself that, the flutter in your chest refused to subside.

San lay sprawled on the couch, his body heavy with exhaustion. The nausea from earlier had subsided, but the lingering weariness of the day clung to him like a fog. The television flickered in front of him, playing some sitcom he wasn’t paying attention to.

The rustling sounds from the kitchen broke the stillness, his girlfriend moving about as she prepared something—tea, maybe, or a light snack. She had insisted he rest, taking over the household tasks without complaint, but San felt detached, like he was watching the scene unfold from outside himself.

His gaze stayed fixed on the screen, though his mind was far away.

The sound of your voice lingered in his memory, soft and warm, echoing with an unshakable clarity. He had tried to brush it off, tried to focus on the relief of being done with chemo and the unwavering support of his girlfriend. But no matter how much he fought it, you kept creeping back into his thoughts.

“San?”

His girlfriend’s voice snapped him out of his daze. He blinked, turning his head toward her. She stood at the edge of the couch, a steaming mug in her hands and concern etched across her face.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her tone gentle. “You’ve been really quiet.”

San forced a small smile, sitting up slightly. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice raspier than he intended. “Just tired, that’s all.”

She gave him a soft nod, setting the mug down on the coffee table in front of him. “That’s to be expected. It’s been a big day.”

He hummed in agreement, leaning back against the cushions as she sat down beside him. Her hand rested lightly on his knee, a gesture of comfort that he appreciated but couldn’t quite reciprocate in the way she deserved.

“That nurse—she was overly friendly, don’t you think?” his girlfriend said, her voice casual but tinged with something more as she sipped the tea she had just made.

San’s eyes opened slowly, his expression neutral as he glanced at her. He wasn’t sure how to respond at first, the words catching him off guard.

“She’s just kind,” he said after a beat, his tone even. “That’s her job.”

His girlfriend raised an eyebrow, setting the mug down on the table. “Kind, sure. But the way she was talking to you… it felt a little much, don’t you think?”

San shook his head, the weight of the conversation pressing on him. "Love, she was just doing her job," he said, his voice quieter now, trying to end the discussion before it went any further.

But his girlfriend rolled her eyes, clearly not convinced. "Tsk, but when the other nurses came in and checked by—"

"Please, Sumin," San interrupted, a bit more forcefully now. "We're supposed to be celebrating. Why are we bringing up the nurse?"

Sumin paused, taken aback by the tone in his voice. She stared at him for a moment, as though trying to read the shift in his demeanor, but after a beat, she sighed and leaned back against the couch.

"Alright, alright. We’ll drop it," she muttered, taking another sip of her tea. Her gaze softened as she watched him, noticing the way he’d suddenly withdrawn into himself. "I just... I don’t know, San. I don’t like the way she was looking at you."

San let out a long breath, running a hand over his face as he tried to calm the bubbling frustration inside. The conversation had shifted in a direction he hadn’t wanted, and the weight of it all felt heavier than he’d expected. He just wanted to relax, to unwind, but his mind kept returning to you, to the lingering impression your kindness had left on him.

Sumin huffed, clearly irritated with the tension. She stood up abruptly, her phone in hand as she moved toward the other side of the room. The air between them grew colder, the unspoken words hanging heavily in the silence.

San glanced over at her, a mix of guilt and frustration stirring in his chest. He didn’t want to fight, didn’t want to make her feel insecure or misunderstood. But something about your presence, the way you’d looked at him, kept tugging at him, and it was hard to ignore.

Sumin’s voice cut through the quiet, distant but sharp. “I’m just going to check my social media. Let me know if you need anything.” Her tone was stiff, a hint of coldness lacing her words as she sat down, her attention fully absorbed by her phone.

San didn’t reply right away. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, not just between him and Sumin, but within himself. The ache in his chest, the confusion swirling in his thoughts—it was all a lot to handle, and it left him staring at the TV, the images flickering past without any real meaning.

San leaned against the shopping cart, absently pushing it forward as he followed Sumin down the aisles of the store. The soft, almost monotonous hum of the background music drifted through the air, blending with the occasional clink of other shoppers' carts.

He glanced around, half-heartedly scanning the shelves but not really seeing anything. Sumin, on the other hand, seemed fully focused on the task at hand, picking out items with a sense of purpose. Her steps were quick, her eyes scanning the shelves for whatever it was she had on her list, while San moved more slowly, trailing behind her as his thoughts wandered.

" oh? Mr. and Mrs. choi?"

San froze, his hand pausing on the shopping cart as a voice called out to them.

He looked up, immediately recognizing the voice—and the face that belonged to it. You stood a few feet away, holding a basket in your hands, a bright smile on your face as you glanced between San and Sumin. The unexpected sight of you in the store caught him off guard, sending a rush of warmth to his cheeks, despite the fact that he tried to hide it behind a neutral expression.

Sumin, ever perceptive, narrowed her eyes slightly at the sight of you, but she quickly masked any reaction, giving you a polite smile.

"Yn," San whispered under his breath, the name slipping from his lips before he could stop it. His mind was racing, and the sight of you had thrown him off balance in ways he couldn’t quite explain. The way your smile had made his heart flutter, how your presence lingered even after you had walked away—he couldn’t shake it.

Sumin’s eyes burned with a quiet but unmistakable anger as she stared at you, her gaze sharp and unyielding. She shifted her focus back to San, her expression tense as she spoke under her breath, but her eyes never left you for long.

You, sensing the shift in the air, offered a polite, friendly smile, trying to keep the interaction light. “Glad to see you up and around, Mr. Choi,” you said with a warm tone, but there was a subtle distance in your posture as you sensed the tension between them.

San felt the heat rise in his chest as he caught the brief but intense exchange. He could feel the awkwardness radiating from both Sumin and you, and he wasn’t sure how to bridge the gap without making things worse.

He glanced at Sumin, her jaw clenched as she stood rigid beside him, and then back to you, who had taken a slight step back, as if to create more space between them.

Trying to ease the growing discomfort, San cleared his throat. "Yeah, I’m just happy to be out and about," he said, forcing a lightness into his voice. "It’s been a long road, but things are getting back to normal."

You nodded, your smile never wavering. “I’m happy to hear that, Mr. Choi. You deserve a break after everything.” Your eyes flickered briefly to Sumin before returning to San, sensing the quiet tension that was beginning to hang between the three of you.

" well, san and i -"

" noona you disappeared on me!" the boy said, his voice filled with a playful tone, his small hands tugging gently at your sleeve.

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart lifting at the sight of him. "Oh, hey, bud. Sorry," you said, crouching down to his level to meet his eager eyes. "I didn’t mean to leave you waiting. You ready to go?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically, his grin wide as he bounced on his feet. His presence immediately lightened the tension that had been simmering around you. You glanced back at San and Sumin, the momentary shift in attention allowing you to break the uncomfortable silence.

Sumin, however, wasn’t as quick to let go of her earlier judgment. She glanced at you with a raised eyebrow, her gaze flicking back to San. There was a strained tension between her smile and the coolness in her eyes, but she said nothing more, her focus moving to the small boy by your side.

San’s heart skipped a beat as he watched the small boy tug at your sleeve, a sudden realization making his chest tighten. The boy had called you "Ynie," which wasn’t an uncommon nickname for someone who was close to a child, but the way he’d looked up at you, with such familiarity and affection—it left San wondering.

Is he yours?

The question lingered in his mind, but the thought felt impossible to entertain. If the boy were yours, surely he would’ve called you something else, like eomma—Instead, you seemed to be nothing but a caretaker, a kind presence in the boy’s life, but nothing more.

You waved goodbye to San and his girlfriend, offering a polite smile despite the lingering tension you could feel in the air. The small boy beside you was still beaming, his energy infectious as he tugged at your hand, eager to get going.

“Let’s go, noona!” he chirped, his excitement making it easy to forget the uncomfortable encounter. You couldn’t help but smile down at him, your heart lightening at the sight of his innocence and joy.

“Alright, bud. Let’s go home,” you said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as you steered him toward the checkout. You could still feel San’s gaze on you from behind, but you quickly pushed that feeling aside. There was no reason to dwell on it, no reason to let it distract you.

The boy chattered away as you moved through the aisles, his innocent questions and thoughts filling the space around you. You gave him your full attention, smiling and nodding as you helped him pick out a treat at the counter. But even as you interacted with him, your mind kept drifting back to the encounter with San—how his presence had made your heart race and how his distracted gaze had lingered on you longer than it should have.

As you arrived home, Jun's energy was practically overflowing. He raced inside ahead of you, bouncing up and down with excitement as he bolted for the door. "I’m hungry, noona! Can we have the snacks now?" he asked, his voice full of enthusiasm.

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you followed behind, the bag of groceries hanging loosely in your hand. "Hold on there, kiddo," you said, playfully trying to catch up to him. "Let me at least get the groceries inside before we have a snack party."

Jun pouted but gave in, following you to the kitchen with his usual boundless energy. "You take too long," he teased as you set the bags on the counter.

"Patience, Jun," you teased back, starting to unpack the groceries. "You know we need to get everything ready first."

Jun crossed his arms, a mock serious expression on his face. "I was born with patience," he declared dramatically, causing you to chuckle.

You smiled, setting aside the groceries as you started to sort out the snacks he’d been asking for. " if you're anything like your father was, then absolutely not." you said, your voice light with amusement as you began to pull out the snacks he’d been eager to get his hands on.

Jun’s eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face as he eagerly leaned forward. "I’m nothing like appa" he protested, shaking his head dramatically.

You smiled, squatting to his level as you ruffled his hair, " weither you like it or not bud, you're exactly like your appa."

Jun’s eyes searched your face, his smile softening as the question lingered between you. "Do you think appa is proud of me?" he asked again, his voice quieter this time, almost vulnerable.

Your heart ached at the weight of his words, the pain in his small voice that he tried so hard to hide behind that brave little smile. You kneeled down to his level, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face as you spoke softly, your own heart swelling with a mix of love and sadness.

"The proudest father in the world, baby," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "Your appa would be so proud of you. Everything you do, every step you take… he’s watching over you, and I know he’s so proud of the person you're becoming."

Jun’s eyes shimmered for a moment, a mix of hope and longing in his gaze. He didn’t say anything at first, just wrapped his arms around you in a quiet hug. You held him close, your heart full of love as you gently pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

"You’re everything to him," you added quietly, holding him tighter. "And I promise, he’s proud of you every day."

Jun held on for a few moments longer, his small body pressed against yours, as if seeking comfort in your words. Eventually, he pulled away slightly, wiping at his eyes before giving you a sheepish smile.

"Thanks, Ynie," he said softly, his voice returning to its usual tone, though there was a vulnerability in it that hadn’t been there before.

⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 flashback ~

You stood by the window, a soft smile spreading across your face as you watched Wooyoung and Jun in the backyard. The sound of their laughter filled the air, light and carefree, a beautiful reminder of how much joy they brought into each other’s lives. Wooyoung was pushing Jun on the swing, his playful voice carrying over to you.

"Higher, appa! Higher!" Jun’s excited shout made you chuckle, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell at the sight of them.

Wooyoung laughed, pushing the swing higher, his grin wide as he looked up at Jun. "You sure about that, bud?" he teased, his voice full of affection. "You might fly off at this rate!"

Jun laughed even harder, his small hands gripping the chains tightly as he soared back and forth. "I’m not scared!" he shouted, his voice filled with pure joy. "I trust you, appa!"

You made your way to the screen door, opening it with your hip as you wiped your hands on the towel. The scent of dinner still lingered in the air, mixing with the fresh breeze from outside.

"Boys, dinner is done!" you called out, your voice carrying over to where Wooyoung and Jun were still playing in the backyard.

Jun’s head whipped around immediately, his eyes lighting up. "Dinner!" he shouted excitedly, and before you could even blink, he was darting toward the door.

Wooyoung turned to follow him, laughing. "Guess we’ve got a hungry one here," he teased, shaking his head. He gave Jun a playful nudge before walking toward you, his eyes filled with warmth.

You felt a warm smile tug at your lips as Wooyoung placed a soft kiss on yours, his hand brushing gently against your cheek. "Thanks for making dinner," he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of affection that made your heart flutter.

"Someone has to keep this little family fed, right?"

You smiled at Wooyoung’s words as you moved toward the table. His gaze was warm, full of unspoken understanding. "Excited to tell him?" he asked, his voice soft but carrying an edge of curiosity.

You nodded, a rush of emotions stirring within you as you glanced over at Jun, who was eagerly waiting for you to sit down. There was a sense of anticipation building in your chest, the moment finally arriving where you’d share something important with both of them. Something that would change everything.

As you moved towards the chair, Wooyoung was already there, pulling it out for you with a gentle smile. "Always the gentleman," you teased lightly, settling into the chair. He grinned, a flicker of pride in his eyes as he gave you a small wink.

You took a deep breath, meeting his eyes for a brief moment, before turning to Jun. "So, bud," you began, your voice warm yet full of meaning, "there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you."

Jun’s eyes lit up with curiosity, the playful glint in his gaze giving way to genuine attention. "What is it,noona?" he asked, his voice full of eagerness.

Just as you were about to speak, Wooyoung began to cough aggressively. Your eyes widened in panic as Wooyoung’s coughs became more violent, his hand instinctively reaching up to his chest as he gasped for air. His face turned slightly pale, and for a moment, you could feel your heart stop in your chest.

Your heart raced as you rushed over to Wooyoung, your hands trembling as you reached him. But just as you were about to help, everything seemed to blur for a moment. Wooyoung's face was contorted in pain, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps, and his body stiffened as though he was struggling to hold on.

"Wooyoung!" you cried out, your voice breaking with panic. The last thing wooyoung saw was you reaching out to him as Jun wails pierced the air.

" san it's so obvious you like her! Just tell me so we can get this relationship over with!" Sumin cried out.

" fine, i do sumin happy?! " San said, walking away.

Sumin scoffed, grabbing her purse with a sharp motion, her hands trembling with frustration. "You’re unbelievable," she muttered under her breath, as she stormed toward the door. She spun around just before exiting, throwing a final glance at San.

"Fine," she said, her voice cold and brittle, "if that’s how you want it, then so be it."

San stopped in his tracks, but he didn’t turn around. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his chest tight with anger and regret. He couldn’t believe it had come to this—everything had felt like it was falling apart, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

"Goodbye, Sumin," he said, his voice quieter than he intended. "I’m sorry."

Without another word, Sumin slammed the door behind her. The sound of it echoed in the empty apartment, leaving San standing in silence, his mind racing.

He couldn’t deny the pang in his chest. He had hurt her. He knew he had. But his heart was telling him something different now. And for the first time in a long while, he was left with a deep sense of uncertainty about everything that had once felt so sure.

San stared at the phone in his hand, the hospital’s number still flashing on the screen. His fingers hovered over the call button, his heart racing with uncertainty. It hadn’t even been a full day since Sumin left, and here he was, grappling with the weight of his decisions. The tension between him and Sumin had reached its breaking point, and now, the silence that followed felt like an echo of everything he had been avoiding.

But in this moment, his mind kept drifting back to you. He had tried to ignore the way his heart raced every time you crossed his mind, the pull toward you that he could no longer push aside. He couldn’t deny it anymore. No more distractions, no more pretending.

He wasn't ready to jump straight into something new, but the thought of seeing you again, hearing your voice without the barriers of work and the hospital—it felt like a chance to breathe. A chance to find out where things could go without the weight of his past decisions holding him back.

His thumb hovered over the screen for a moment longer before he exhaled slowly. No hospitals, no needles. Just you and me. The thought grounded him, the promise of something simpler, something real.

With a deep breath, he pressed the call button, the sound of the phone ringing in his ear as he waited. Each passing second felt heavier than the last.

" something hospital - how can i help you?" the voice said over the line.

" can i leave a message for nurse yn?"

You stepped into the nurse's office, the familiar scent of antiseptic filling the air. Your eyes immediately went to the desk, where a note was placed neatly in the center, its presence unusual and out of place. You frowned, the confusion evident on your face as you scanned the room. No one was around—just the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights above.

Curiosity piqued, you walked over to the desk and picked up the note. It was simple, the handwriting neat and deliberate.

choi san xxx-xxx-xxxx

You stared at the note in your hand, the name Choi San and the number written underneath it standing out starkly. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt a mix of surprise and confusion flood over you. The familiarity of the name sent a jolt through your chest, though you couldn’t quite place why.

" told ya~"

Jen’s teasing voice broke through the tension, and you couldn’t help but blush, feeling a bit caught off guard. She handed you one of the cups of coffee with a knowing grin, as if she had seen this coming all along.

You felt a nervous chuckle escape your lips, trying to hide your embarrassment behind the steam of the coffee. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stammered, your cheeks still warm. The note had thrown you off balance, and Jen’s teasing only made it worse.

Jen raised an eyebrow, not missing a beat. “Come on, babe. The way you looked at that note, the way your face lit up when you saw his name… I’m not blind, you know.”

You sighed, taking a sip of your coffee to hide your flustered expression, but there was no escaping Jen’s sharp eye. She had always been able to read you like a book.

“I’m just… confused,” you muttered, staring at the note in your hands again. “I don’t even know why he’d send me this.”

Jen shrugged, her smile softening as she leaned against the counter. “Maybe he just wants to talk. Maybe he needs something from you. You never know what’s going on in his head.”

You chewed on the inside of your lip, still unsure what to make of the situation. Your thoughts were a mix of curiosity and hesitation. You hadn’t expected to hear from him again, especially not this way.

“Do you think I should call him?” you asked, your voice quiet.

Jen took another sip of her coffee, giving you a knowing look. “If you want answers, you’ll have to find out. But don’t let him catch you off guard, okay? You deserve to know what’s going on.”

Her words hung in the air, and you nodded slowly, the decision weighing heavily on your mind.

You sat down heavily, the sticky note in one hand and your phone in the other. Your gaze flicked back to the framed picture you always turned to after long shifts—Wooyoung’s bright, carefree smile staring back at you, a bittersweet reminder of the life you had built and the love you had lost.

Your thumb hovered over the phone screen, the number scrawled on the note replaying in your mind. Choi San. The name felt heavier now, layered with the weight of questions you didn’t know how to ask.

You glanced back at Wooyoung’s photo, as if silently seeking guidance. His grin seemed as warm as ever, a comforting presence that had always grounded you. What would you say, Woo? What would you want me to do?

The thought only made your chest ache more. You had moved forward, for Jun, for yourself—but had you really opened your heart again? This note, this unexpected reach from someone you never thought would step into your life like this, was testing that resolve in ways you hadn’t prepared for.

Taking a shaky breath, you fumbled with your phone, typing in the number slowly. Your heart raced with every digit, your mind cycling through what-ifs. What if this was nothing? What if it was something? What if you weren’t ready for the answers?

You stared at the number on the screen for a long moment before pressing the call button, your breath hitching as the line began to ring.

On the third ring, the call connected. A quiet rustling came through the line before his voice filled your ear, soft and hesitant.

“Hello?” San said, his tone carrying a mix of uncertainty and warmth that sent a jolt through your chest.

Your breath hitched, the sound of his voice catching you off guard. It had been so long since you’d heard it outside the structured confines of the hospital, and yet it was unmistakably him.

“Hi… San,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. You cleared your throat quickly, trying to shake the nerves threatening to overwhelm you. “It’s… it’s Yn.”

There was a brief pause, but you could hear the faint exhale of relief on the other end.

“I was hoping you’d call,” he admitted quietly. “I—uh—left the note. I wasn’t sure if you’d… you know, want to.”

You blinked, gripping the phone tighter as his words settled in. “Why wouldn’t I?” you asked softly, though your heart raced at the vulnerability in his tone. “What’s going on, San?”

There was another pause, as if he were gathering his thoughts. When he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter, more tentative.

“I needed to talk to you,” he said. “Not as a patient. Just… me. I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, San, I’m not sure that’s—” you began, hesitation lacing your voice.

“Please?” he interrupted, his voice gentle but filled with an urgency that tugged at your heart. “Just… hear me out. That’s all I’m asking.”

You hesitated, your gaze falling on the photo of Wooyoung again. His smile seemed to encourage you, as if silently reminding you of the strength you carried through everything.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes for a moment before responding. “Alright, San. I’ll hear you out. What’s on your mind?”

The line went silent for a second, but you could hear him exhale softly, as if the weight of your agreement gave him a sliver of relief.

“Thank you,” he said, his tone sincere. “Can we meet? Somewhere outside the hospital. I just… need to talk to you in person.”

Your grip on the phone tightened slightly. Meeting him felt like stepping into uncharted territory, but there was something in his voice—something genuine, almost vulnerable—that made it hard to say no.

“Okay,” you finally said, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “Where and when?”

A pause, then San replied, “There’s a coffee shop near the park. Tomorrow afternoon, if that works for you?”

You nodded to yourself, already feeling the weight of the decision. “I’ll be there,” you said softly.

San sat at a corner table in the cozy coffee shop, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the napkin in front of him. The gentle hum of conversations around him and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee should have been comforting, but all he could focus on was the growing knot of nerves in his stomach.

He glanced at the time on his phone for what felt like the hundredth time. You weren’t late—if anything, he’d arrived too early—but the anticipation was eating at him. His mind replayed every possible outcome of this meeting, from the worst-case scenarios to the faint glimmer of hope that you’d understand why he’d reached out.

The barista called out an order, and San glanced toward the door, half expecting to see you walk in. When you weren’t there, he exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made a mistake. Was this too soon? Was he crossing a line?

Yet, amidst all the doubts, the memory of your kindness kept him rooted to the spot. The way you’d looked at him, spoken to him, treated him like more than just another patient—it had stayed with him, giving him a sense of connection he hadn’t felt in a long time.

As San shifted in his seat, he spotted the same little boy from the other day, the one who had called you noona in the store. His heart skipped a beat, recognizing the familiar figure, and his eyes followed the boy as he walked in, hand in hand with you.

"Come on, sweetie, let’s sit down, and I’ll get you your drink, okay?" you said softly, your voice full of warmth and care as you guided the boy to a nearby table. He nodded eagerly, eyes wide with excitement as he followed your lead.

San’s throat tightened, his thoughts racing. Is he yours? He couldn’t help but wonder, the sight of you and the boy together stirring a whirl of emotions in his chest. The boy wasn’t calling you “eomma,” but the bond between the two of you was undeniable, and it only added to the questions swirling in his mind.

You glanced over at San, catching his gaze as you sat the boy down. There was a moment of awkwardness, a flicker of realization in your eyes as you seemed to register that he had seen you with the boy. You smiled gently, though there was a touch of hesitation behind it.

“Sorry, I hope it’s okay if he sits with us for a bit,” you said, walking back over to San’s table. " the babysitter canceled last minute."

San nodded, trying to keep his composure, but the curiosity burned in the back of his mind. “Of course, it’s fine,” he said, his voice a little softer than usual. He glanced at the boy again, then back at you. “Is… he yours?”

The boy looked up briefly at San, his eyes curious but friendly, before diving back into his coloring. You took the seat across from San, giving the boy a quick glance to ensure he was comfortable before turning your attention back to the man in front of you.

Your smile faltered for a second, but you shook your head gently. “No,” you answered, your voice calm. “He’s not mine. it's complicated."

San nodded slowly, his gaze shifting between you and the boy as he absorbed your words. “Complicated,” he echoed softly, his curiosity clearly piqued but restrained.

The boy seemed oblivious to the conversation, his focus entirely on the colorful swirls and shapes he was creating in his book. The sight brought a faint smile to San’s face, though his mind was racing with questions he wasn’t sure he should ask.

" i can stay here with him while you order your drink? i don't mind," San said softly.

You smiled, " thanks, i'll be quick. "

San watched as you stood up, giving him a grateful smile before heading toward the counter to place your order. Once you were out of earshot, his attention shifted to the boy, who was still engrossed in his coloring.

“Hi there,” San said softly, leaning slightly forward in his chair. “What are you working on?”

The boy glanced up, his eyes bright with curiosity. “A dragon,” he said proudly, holding up the page for San to see. The crude but colorful sketch of a dragon filled the page, its wings stretching wide and its tail curling at the bottom.

“Wow,” San said, his smile widening. “That’s a really cool dragon. What’s his name?”

The boy tapped his chin thoughtfully, then grinned. “Jun. Like me!”

San chuckled, nodding. “That’s a perfect name for a dragon. You must be pretty brave if you named him after yourself.”

Jun straightened up in his chair, puffing out his chest a little. “I’m the bravest! No dragon is scarier than me.”

“Is that so?” San replied, amused by the boy’s confidence. “Well, it looks like Jun the Dragon is lucky to have such a brave friend.”

Jun beamed at the compliment and went back to his coloring, clearly pleased. San leaned back slightly, his gaze softening as he watched the boy for a moment. There was something endearing about his energy and innocence, and it was easy to see why you cared for him so much.

When you returned, drink in hand, you caught the tail end of their interaction. “I see you two are getting along,” you said, a hint of amusement in your voice as you sat back down.

San smiled at you, his expression warm. “He’s a great kid,” he said sincerely. “And he’s got some serious dragon-drawing skills.”

Jun grinned, holding up his masterpiece for you to see. “Look, noona! hyung said it’s cool!”

You hummed in acknowledgment, smoothing Jun’s hair gently as he returned to his coloring, his small hands moving confidently over the page. Then, shifting your attention back to San, you asked softly, “Why did you want to meet today?”

San hesitated, his fingers lightly drumming on the edge of the table as he seemed to weigh his words. “I guess… I wanted to talk to you outside of the hospital,” he said finally, his voice quiet but earnest.

Your brow furrowed slightly, your gaze searching his face. “Talk about what?”

He took a breath, his gaze dropping to the table for a moment before meeting yours again. “About everything,” he admitted. “About how much you helped me. How much you mattered during… everything I went through. I don’t think I ever really said thank you. Not properly.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the depth of his words. “San,” you began, shaking your head lightly, “you don’t have to thank me. I was just doing my job.”

“It wasn’t just your job,” he insisted, his tone firmer now. “You made me feel like I wasn’t just a patient. Like I was still a person, even when I felt like everything else in my life was falling apart.”

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came. The sincerity in his voice, the vulnerability in his eyes—it left you momentarily speechless.

“You didn’t give me the pity eyes that everyone else did,” he said, his voice softer now but no less heartfelt. “Like I was going to die in the next few hours. You… you made me feel normal, which I hadn’t felt since I lost my hair.”

Your heart ached at his confession, the weight of his vulnerability settling between you. For a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

“San,” you finally said, your tone gentle. He smiled faintly, his fingers tracing an invisible pattern on the table.

" and ... i fell for you yn."

The words hung in the air, like a quiet confession that shifted the atmosphere around you. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. You hadn’t expected that, not in the slightest.

“San,” you whispered, your voice softer now, a mix of surprise and something else stirring inside of you. You searched his eyes for any hint of doubt, but all you found was sincerity—raw and unguarded.

He gave a small, almost apologetic shrug, as if to make light of the weight of what he’d just said. “I know it’s probably not the right time,” he added, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty, “but it’s the truth. I’ve been trying to figure out how to say it without making things complicated, but…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the table, the vulnerability in his eyes deepening.

You felt a lump form in your throat, unsure of how to respond. This was unexpected—more than you were prepared for. You had always been so careful, so focused on keeping things simple, especially with Jun around.

Jun, completely oblivious to the quiet tension, looked up from his coloring with a big grin. “Noona, do you think my dragon could fly?”

You chuckled softly, trying to steady your racing thoughts. “Of course it can fly, bud. Dragons can do anything.” You glanced at San, your heart still racing.

" i know , i know we barely know each other but please. I would love to get to know you," San said softly.

You took a slow breath, feeling a mix of emotions stirring inside of you. His words were sincere, and there was an earnestness in his tone that made your heart flutter, despite the hesitations you had. You hadn’t expected this from San—this openness, this vulnerability.

"I get it, San," you began, your voice gentle, "and I’m flattered. Truly. But things are complicated right now, with Jun and everything…" You trailed off, unsure of how to explain the whirlwind of thoughts in your head. You hadn’t even considered the possibility of something more with him, not when you were still healing from past wounds, and not when your life revolved around caring for Jun.

" and i'd love to get to know jun too," San smiled, holding his hand out.

You looked at San's outstretched hand, feeling the weight of his words settle in your chest. The sincerity in his eyes was undeniable, and there was a warmth to his smile that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, things could work out.

Jun, who had been engrossed in his coloring, looked up at the mention of his name. His curiosity piqued, he glanced at you, then at San, before slowly nodding his head. "You wanna be my friend too?" he asked, his voice sweet and innocent.

San chuckled softly, crouching down to Jun's level. "I’d love to be your friend, Jun," he said, his voice gentle, extending his hand to him.

Jun’s eyes brightened, and after a brief moment of hesitation, he reached out, shaking San’s hand enthusiastically. "Okay! You can help me with my dragon, then!"

You smiled at the exchange, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you. Watching San interact with Jun so easily, with such genuine care, made something inside of you shift, even more so than his words had. It was one thing to say he wanted to get to know you, but showing kindness to Jun, without hesitation, felt like something entirely different.

"Deal," San said, his voice light with amusement. "I’m an expert on dragons."

Jun giggled, turning back to his coloring book. "I’m gonna make him fly across the sky!"

You couldn’t help but laugh at Jun’s enthusiasm, your heart swelling with something you hadn’t expected. Maybe this could work—maybe there was something here worth exploring.

With a soft smile, you looked back at San, meeting his gaze. He smiled at you, and you swore you heart flutter.

You paced in your kitchen floor, your mind racing with thoughts. Jun’s soft humming from the table, and his grandmother beside him.

"Yn, darling, you've been pacing for hours. Come sit down, you're making me dizzy." a gentle smile on her face as she sipped her tea.

You paused, guilt flickering in your chest. "Sorry, Mrs. Jung," you muttered, leaning against the counter. Your gaze drifted to Jun, who was completely absorbed in his drawing.

"Sweetheart," Mrs. Jung began, setting her cup down on the table. " what's wrong?"

You let out a long breath, trying to gather your thoughts as you looked at Mrs. Jung, her eyes full of concern. You had always been able to talk to her, but right now, the words felt like they were stuck in your throat.

" i'm nervous. I haven't gone on a date since woo and -" your breathe hitched as Mrs. jung gave a knowing smile.

" hey bud, why don't you go and watch tv for a bit hm?" Mrs. Jung said, picking up Jun from the chair.

You watched as Mrs. Jung gently carried Jun to the living room, her movements calm and steady as she set him down with a soft pat on the head. Jun didn’t seem to notice the shift in the room as he scampered off to the TV, humming to himself as the sounds of cartoons began to fill the house.

Once they were out of earshot, Mrs. Jung returned to the kitchen, her eyes soft with understanding. "It’s normal to feel nervous, sweetheart," she said, her voice gentle but firm. " wooyoung would of wanted you to go on this date."

Your breath caught at the mention of Wooyoung’s name. It had been so long since you’d allowed yourself to think about him in such a way, and hearing his name spoken so gently from Mrs. Jung’s lips made the flood of emotions inside you hard to contain.

You exhaled shakily, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to rise. "I don’t know if I can ever be ready," you whispered, your voice thick with the weight of your heartache. "I don’t want to forget Wooyoung. It feels like… it feels like betraying him, moving on."

Mrs. Jung gave a soft, knowing smile, her eyes filled with compassion. "Darling, you're not betraying him. Loving again doesn’t erase the love you had for my son. It’s a different kind of love. It doesn’t replace what you shared, but it allows you to heal, to open up to new experiences. He would want you to be happy, to live your life fully."

You wiped at your eyes, not wanting to admit the vulnerability you were feeling. "But how do I even try? How do I know it’s right?"

" sweetheart, you'll never know. It's going to be a leap of faith."

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of her words settle in your chest. A leap of faith. It sounded so simple when she said it, but the thought of trusting again—of allowing someone in, especially after all the pain—felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, unsure of what would happen if you jumped.

"But what if I fall? What if it’s too much?" you asked quietly, your voice cracking slightly.

Mrs. Jung gave you a soft, reassuring smile, her hands resting on the counter as she spoke. "You might fall, sweetheart. But you’ll get back up. You’ll always get back up. yn, you went back to work 2 months after Wooyoung died. Honey, no one has the heart like you do."

Her words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, everything went still. You hadn’t realized how much you had buried that part of yourself, the part that had pushed through, day after day, despite the overwhelming grief. Two months. It felt like a lifetime ago, but Mrs. Jung was right. You had gotten up. You had gone back to work, to your routines, to life in a way you never thought you could. It hadn’t been easy, and some days it had felt like you were moving through everything in a haze, but you had done it.

You looked at her, blinking back the unexpected tears that had begun to gather in your eyes. "I don’t feel like I’ve done much, Mrs. Jung. I feel like I’ve just been… existing."

She shook her head, her expression gentle but firm. "Sweetheart, surviving is an achievement in itself. You kept going. You didn’t let the pain swallow you whole. That’s strength. That’s courage."

You swallowed, the tightness in your chest loosening slightly as you absorbed her words. "I didn’t feel strong, though. I still don’t always feel like I’m okay."

Mrs. Jung smiled softly, walking over to you and placing a hand on your shoulder. "That’s okay. Being strong doesn’t mean you always feel like you are. It’s about getting back up, even when you feel like you can’t. And, honey, you’ve done that. You’re doing that right now."

A shaky breath escaped you as you nodded, feeling the weight of everything—of the grief, of the uncertainty, of the pain—begin to settle in a different way. It wasn’t gone, but maybe it didn’t have to define everything. Maybe you didn’t have to have everything figured out right now. Maybe you just had to keep moving, one step at a time.

" and you have Jun yn. Wooyoung left Jun in your care because he knew. He knew you'll be the one to get back on your feet. "

Mrs. Jung’s gaze softened, her hands gently rubbing your back in comfort. " now, let's get you all dolled up for this date. Gotta meet the man who swoop my daughter."

The knock on the door alarmed you as you heard Jun small, ' i'll get it'.

" jun, no let grandma answer the door!" you called out,

Jun’s voice echoed from the hallway, his little feet padding quickly toward the front door. "I can do it, noona! I’ll get it!"

You rushed after him, but by the time you reached the door, Jun had already opened it wide. You froze for a moment, catching sight of the person standing there.

San stood at the threshold, looking every bit as nervous as you felt. His smile was gentle, the bouquet of flowers in his hand as he looked down at Jun.

" hey little man"

Jun looked up at San with wide, curious eyes. "Hi! You brought flowers for noona?" he asked, his excitement bubbling over.

San smiled down at him, his nerves easing a little at the boy's innocent curiosity. "Yeah, I did. I thought she might like them."

Jun nodded seriously, then gave San a big grin. "Noona loves flowers!"

You couldn’t help but smile at Jun’s straightforwardness. The tension in the air seemed to lift as San chuckled softly, ruffling Jun’s hair. "I hope so, buddy."

"Alright, go ahead, buddy. You can put them in the vase," you said, guiding Jun back inside. "Let me get the door."

As Jun scurried off to the kitchen, you turned back to San, your heart fluttering a little at the gesture. You hadn’t expected flowers, but there they were—bright and fresh, a simple but meaningful token.

San shifted on his feet, looking a little unsure but smiling nonetheless. "I know it’s a little forward, but I thought it might be a nice start."

You took a small breath and stepped forward, reaching out to accept the bouquet. "It’s perfect," you said softly, your voice warm. "Thank you, San."

"Glad you like it," he said, his eyes meeting yours with an earnestness that made your heart skip a beat.

There was a brief moment of silence between you two, the sound of Jun's giggles from the kitchen filling the space. You hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Come on in, I think Jun is making his special snack," you said with a small smile.

San gave a relieved chuckle and stepped inside, the warmth of his smile growing. "I’ll be glad to see what he’s cooking up."

As you led him into the living room, you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. Mrs. Jung coming into view as San greeted her.

Mrs. Jung smiled warmly at San as she stepped into the living room, her eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "Hello, San. It’s nice to finally meet you," she said, her tone friendly and inviting.

San looked a little caught off guard but quickly regained his composure, offering a polite smile.

You felt a slight blush rise to your cheeks at the ease with which they were talking. Mrs. Jung had a way of making anyone feel comfortable, but you couldn’t help but wonder if this was a little too soon for her to meet San. She, however, didn’t seem to mind.

"I’ve heard a lot about you," Mrs. Jung continued, winking playfully at you. "Yn talks about you often, you know."

You felt your face heat up, your hands instinctively reaching to adjust the flowers in your hands. " mrs. jung!"

She chuckled, as Jun came into view. " halmeoni, noona is going to be San hyung friend!"

Mrs. Jung raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eye as she looked at Jun. "Oh really? Is that what you think, little one?"

Jun nodded enthusiastically, grinning from ear to ear. "Yup! San hyung is cool, and he’s nice to noona!" He turned to San, his eyes bright.

San chuckled softly at Jun’s enthusiasm, you couldn’t help but smile at the interaction, feeling a little lighter despite the nervous energy that had been buzzing around you since the start of the evening. It seemed like Jun had already given his seal of approval.

" you kids go have fun. Jun and I will be here," Mrs. Jung said, giving you a wink.

San smiled, " we can maybe get a snack before the movie?"

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "That sounds perfect," you said, your heart lightening at the idea of spending time with San, just the two of you.

Jun, from his spot in the living room, cheered. "Movie time! Don’t take too long, noona!" He giggled, making you laugh too.

"Don’t worry, we won’t be long," you reassured him, feeling a warmth settle in your chest. You placed a kiss on his forehead before turning back to San, your nerves replaced with a sense of calm as you took in the moment.

San smiled at you, his expression genuine and kind. "Alright, snack it is then," he said, gently taking your hand and leading you towards the door.

As you stepped outside, the cool evening air wrapped around you, but it didn’t feel cold. With San by your side, it felt like everything was in the right place. You both walked side by side, the evening stretching out ahead of you, full of possibilities.

~

You laughed at San's joke, his coat wrapped around your shoulder as he chuckled. You leaned into the warmth of his coat, feeling a little more at ease with every step. His laughter was easy and light, and it made you feel like the world had shifted just a bit, making everything feel more manageable.

" i swear, he's my little brother but man do i question if he's adopted or not," San said.

You giggled, " he sounds like a handful. Kinda like Jun"

San laughed, shaking his head. "A handful is an understatement," he said, his voice light but affectionate. "He’s always got a million ideas running through his head, and somehow, he convinces me to go along with them."

" jun is much like his father.." You said softly, looking up at the stars as San walked beside you.

San's steps slowed as he listened to your words, his eyes flicking to the stars above before he turned his attention back to you. He could hear the softness in your voice, the weight of the sentiment behind it.

" what was Jun's dad like, if you don't mind me asking?" San looked at you, watching your features to make sure you're comfortable.

You took a deep breath, pausing for a moment as you thought about how to answer. The memories of Wooyoung were still so fresh, but talking about him didn’t feel as painful as it once did. Maybe it was because San had made you feel like it was okay to share, like it was safe to open up again.

"wooyoung was full of energy, always joking around, always trying to make people laugh. He had this way of making even the hardest days feel lighter, like nothing was ever too serious when he was around. But when it came to the people he loved, he was incredibly protective. He’d do anything for them."

You smiled, remembering the little moments, the big gestures. "He was stubborn, though. Very stubborn. He always thought he knew best, even when he didn’t. But in the end, he had a heart of gold." You paused, your smile faltering just slightly. "He was the kind of person who could light up a room with just his presence, and he didn’t even have to try."

San listened intently, his expression soft and empathetic. "Sounds like he really cared about those around him."

You nodded, your chest tight as you spoke. "He did. He cared a lot. Especially about Jun. He’d always say that Jun would be his greatest legacy. That no matter what, he’d make sure Jun knew how much he was loved, even if he couldn’t be there to show him."

San gave you a knowing look, his voice gentle as he spoke. "It sounds like Wooyoung left behind a lot of love. And Jun’s lucky to have had him as his dad."

You smiled softly, feeling the weight of his words. " he is and i wouldn't have changed it for the world,"

San smiled gently, his eyes soft as he looked at you. There was a sense of admiration in his gaze, something that made you feel seen in a way that was comforting. "It’s clear how much he meant to you, and how much you mean to Jun," he said quietly, his tone sincere. "I can see why you’re such a strong person. You’ve carried so much love, and you’ve kept going for both of them."

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I don’t always feel strong, but I try. For Jun, especially." You glanced over at San, the quiet support he offered making you feel more grounded. "Some days are harder than others, but I just remind myself that Wooyoung wouldn’t want us to stop living."

San's voice was gentle but firm. "And he wouldn’t want you to carry it all alone either." His gaze held yours, his words unspoken but clear. "I’m here, whenever you need someone to talk to, or even just to be there."

Your heart fluttered at his words, a warmth spreading through you. San held his hand out for you, and without hesitation you grabbed it. San's hand was warm, his grip firm but gentle as your fingers intertwined. It felt natural, as if this simple gesture carried the reassurance you didn’t know you needed. He gave your hand a small squeeze, his smile soft as he glanced at you.

San’s gaze was soft, yet it held an intensity that made your breath catch. His hand lingered near your face, the gentle brush of his fingers against your skin sending a warmth radiating through you. The world seemed to quiet in that moment, the sounds of the city fading into the background as his eyes searched yours.

"Yn..." San’s voice was soft, almost reverent, as if your name held more weight than you realized. It wasn’t just the way he said it—it was the look in his eyes, a mixture of tenderness and vulnerability that made your heart race.

You swallowed hard, your breath catching as you met his gaze. His hands moved gently to your waist, the warmth of his touch grounding you even as your heart raced. San pulled you closer, closing the space between you with an ease that felt natural, as if this moment had always been waiting to happen.

His eyes searched yours, his expression open and sincere, the question hanging delicately in the air. "Can I kiss you?" he asked softly, his voice almost trembling with anticipation.

Your breath caught, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you standing there under the soft glow of the streetlights.

You nodded slowly, your voice failing you, but the small smile on your lips told him everything he needed to know. "Yes," you whispered, so softly it was almost carried away by the breeze.

San’s smile widened, the vulnerability in his eyes replaced by a warmth that made you feel weightless. His hands, still resting on your waist, gently guided you closer as he leaned in. His movements were slow, giving you the chance to pull away if you wanted, but you didn’t. Instead, you tilted your head slightly, your eyes fluttering closed.

When his lips met yours, it was soft and tentative at first, like a question waiting to be answered. But as you leaned into him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt for balance, the kiss deepened, becoming something sweeter, something filled with a quiet passion that left you breathless.

The world seemed to stand still, the noise of the city fading into nothingness. All you could feel was him—the warmth of his hands, the softness of his lips, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your own. It was a kiss that felt like a promise, unspoken but deeply understood.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead resting lightly against his, San’s smile was radiant, his cheeks flushed. "I’ve been wanting to do that for so long," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You laughed softly, your own cheeks warm as you looked up at him. "I’m glad you did," you replied, your voice full of honesty.

In that moment, everything felt right.

one year later....

Jun's laughter echoed across the backyard, his little hands gripping San’s head for balance as he perched on San's shoulders. His giggles were infectious, drawing matching smiles from you and Mrs. Jung as you watched the two from the porch.

“Higher, hyung! Higher!” Jun squealed, kicking his legs excitedly. San pretended to wobble, earning another round of delighted laughter from the boy.

"Careful now," Mrs. Jung warned lightly, though her smile betrayed her amusement. "We don’t need a trip to the emergency room today."

San chuckled, steadying Jun with a firm grip on his legs. "Don’t worry, Mrs. Jung. I've got him."

You shook your head, laughing softly. "Jun’s got you wrapped around his little finger already, doesn’t he?"

San glanced back at you, a wide grin on his face. "What can I say? The kid’s irresistible."

Jun leaned forward, his face upside down as he looked at you. "Noona! Hyung is the best! Can we keep him?"

Both you and Mrs. Jung burst into laughter at his innocent plea, while San’s face flushed slightly. He reached up to ruffle Jun's hair, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "I think you’re stuck with me now, bud."

Mrs. Jung gave you a knowing look, her eyes twinkling with warmth. "Well, he’s certainly fitting in nicely," she said, her tone teasing but kind.

You felt a flutter in your chest as you watched San and Jun together, the sight stirring something deep within you. You hummed in acknowledgment as you took a sip from your drink. Mrs. Jung brought out a piece of paper.

Your breath caught as you stared at the papers in Mrs. Jung’s hands, the weight of their significance settling over you. The edges of the document were slightly worn, as though it had been handled carefully many times before.

“Are those…?” you whispered, unable to finish the sentence, your heart pounding in your chest.

Mrs. Jung nodded, her expression tender. "Adoption papers for Jun," she confirmed softly. "With Wooyoung’s signature."

You felt your knees weaken, and you instinctively reached for the porch railing to steady yourself. Your gaze darted between the papers and Mrs. Jung’s face, searching for an explanation, even though you already knew what this meant.

" honey, he knew you would of signed these paper in a heartbeat but he also wanted Jun to have the best step father and from the looks of it, San is an amazing father towards Jun already."

Your lips quivered as Mrs. Jung’s words sank in, each one weaving into the tender ache in your heart. You looked at her, the understanding and love in her eyes making your emotions bubble up to the surface.

“He really thought of everything, didn’t he?” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You glanced over at San, who was now holding Jun’s hands and spinning him around gently, their laughter blending together in perfect harmony.

Mrs. Jung smiled knowingly, her hand squeezing your shoulder gently. “Wooyoung loved you, sweetheart. He loved Jun. He wanted both of you to be happy, even if he couldn’t be here to see it. And I think,” she said, her voice soft but certain, “he knew that someone like San would come into your life.”

Your gaze lingered on San, watching the way he interacted with Jun—kind, patient, and full of joy. It was almost as if Wooyoung’s wishes were coming to life before your eyes.

“He’s been so good to Jun,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “And to me.”

Mrs. Jung chuckled, brushing a tear from her cheek. “It’s clear as day, Ynie. San isn’t just good to Jun. He loves you both.”

You held the papers close to your chest, the weight of them feeling lighter than before. San sensing your discomfort looked at you as he set Jun down. San’s brow furrowed slightly, concern evident in his gaze as he approached you. Jun ran off to grab his favorite toy, leaving the two of you standing together in the gentle afternoon sun.

“Hey,” San said softly, his voice steady and warm. “You okay?”

You nodded quickly, though the papers pressed against your chest felt like they were carrying years of memories and emotions. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you replied, but the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you.

San tilted his head, his eyes searching yours for the truth. “You sure? You’ve got that look… like there’s a lot on your mind.”

A small, shaky laugh escaped you as you lowered the papers, glancing at them before looking back up at him. “It’s just… a lot. Mrs. Jung gave me these.” You held the papers out, your hands trembling slightly. “They’re adoption papers for Jun. Wooyoung signed them before he… before he passed.”

San’s eyes widened slightly, his gaze flickering to the papers and then back to you. He stepped closer, his voice gentle but resolute. His smile grew as Jun came by your side - a velvet box in his hand as he handed it to San.

San knelt to Jun's level, his smile soft and full of warmth. "You sure you want to help me with this, buddy?" he asked gently, ruffling Jun's hair.

Jun nodded eagerly, his little hands clasped together as he bounced on his toes. "Uh-huh! You said it’s for noona, and I wanna help!"

You tilted your head in confusion, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of the velvet box. “San, what’s going on?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

San straightened, the box resting firmly in his hand as he turned to face you. His expression was open, filled with vulnerability and determination all at once. He opened the box, revealing a delicate ring that sparkled in the sunlight.

“Yn,” San began, his voice steady despite the emotions swirling in his eyes. “Meeting you and Jun has changed my life in ways I never thought possible. You’ve shown me strength, love, and what it means to truly care for someone. And Jun… he’s an amazing kid because of you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you watched him kneel down, the moment feeling surreal.

“I don’t want to just be a part of your life,” he continued, his gaze locking onto yours. “I want to be there for every moment—the good, the bad, and everything in between. I want to be a family with you and Jun. So, Yn… will you marry me?”

Jun tugged on your sleeve, his grin infectious. “Say yes, noona! Say yes!”

You laughed through your tears, your hand flying to your mouth as your emotions overwhelmed you. Looking down at San, at Jun’s hopeful face, and at the ring that symbolized a new beginning, you felt your heart soar.

“Yes,” you whispered, then louder, “Yes, I will.”

San’s face broke into a radiant smile as he stood, slipping the ring onto your finger before wrapping you in a tight embrace. Jun cheered loudly, wrapping his small arms around both of you, completing the picture of a family you never thought you’d find again.

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: to blanc, you are the change he needed, and your pressing secret won't change that.

WARNINGS: mentions of mortality, blood. Vampire stuff.

COMMENTS: ok ok so @vivislosingitagain here is my thought process YOU like biting people and sucking their blood so YOU are a vampire. and HEY GUESS WHAT vampires are IMMORTAL kind of. and im pretty sure blanc is really fucking old so i think mortality angst would work great with him BUT WHAT IF HIS PARTNER WAS AS OLD AS HE WAS AND BIT HIM. that's the post.

also im so sorry if blanc is out of character i have seen this man three times in the routes ive played + the prologue oops.

It’s a clear night. The stars are bright in the sky, just as they were hundreds and hundreds of years ago. Blanc doesn’t know if they’ll ever change, but he takes comfort in their consistency. They’re stationary, unmoving, unshifting, just like him. He’s always been in Cradle, long enough to see the shattering of bonds between the armies and the first Alice fall. He’s seen the skirmishes and the blood and the carnage.

And he’s seen you, the one who followed him into the rabbit hole and into Cradle.

He remembers thinking you were cute. He remembers Oliver scolding him for speaking his mind, and he remembers you tearing your eyes away from him, a shy smile on your lips. You’ve always been alluring, in a way he never anticipated, and it makes him wonder if someone from the Land of Reason can really be magical like the people of Cradle.

It’s no use though—he knows the passage of time will take you away. He knows love (what he feels for you, there’s no doubt about it) is a powerful force, but it cannot break the way the sun and moon rise and fall, it cannot stop the stars from dying light years away, it cannot stop your inevitable aging.

He knows this, and yet he can’t let go. He greets you in the morning with a soft pat on your head, leaning over your bed as you stretch and yawn. His gaze softens when you rub your eyes and look over at him, and you’re looking at him like he’s the only thing you ever want to see.

He’s so selfish—he wants so badly for you to only look at him.

For someone so keenly aware of how mortal you are, he knows he's being awfully flippant about it. It’s the folly of man, to be so foolish as to yearn, but there’s always the possibility that fate will take pity on his poor soul and listen to its cries for his love to stay.

And so, the next night, a night that should be no different from any other, he breaks his routine. He keeps you up late, chatting over tea as the full moon rises in the sky, asking you if you want to go home. He watches you as you go quiet, your previously bright smile fading into a thoughtful frown. You’re staring into your tea as if it can give you the answer, and Blanc hopes the tea will give you the same answer he would.

I wish you would stay. I wish you would stay with me. I wish you would think I’m worth it. I wish that if I had to be hurt then you would be the one to hurt me because I’ve never loved anyone like you and I doubt I ever will. I wish you would be the one to thrust this dagger into my heart so fate doesn’t have the chance.

“...I want to stay with you.” you say, and Blanc knows you’re hiding something from him but he can’t bring himself to ask when you already look so worried.

“Are you sure?” he asks, reaching across the table to place a hand on yours.

Your head jerks up and you meet his gaze with parted lips—almost like you want to tell him but are far too scared.

“You can tell me anything.” he stresses, squeezing your hand gently.

“I’m not...” you purse your lips, looking away again as you choose your words carefully, “I’m not having doubts about staying here, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Blanc holds back his sigh of relief in favor of another inquisitive glance. Your brow furrows and he knows you feel his stare, your cute canines poking at your lower lip as you gnaw on it pensively.

“I have a secret I don’t think I’m ready to share yet.” you say softly, turning back to him, “I will someday. I just...need time.”

Blanc laughs, a sound that's full of relief and love and sounds like the wind chimes that hang in your no longer temporary bedroom’s window, the ones that have been there since you came and will be there when—if—you leave.

“Darling.” he breathes, staring straight into your eyes with so much love, “I have all the time in the world.”

The full moon sinks beneath the horizon and the sun comes up again. The teacups from the night before have been cleaned and placed back on their shelves, and the cake you two cut slices out of remains in the fridge. There are still traces of you within the house—your skincare is still in the bathroom, your toothbrush is next to his, and your chair still has a cushion of your favorite color. None of those things have been removed because you didn’t leave.

You’re still in your bedroom, sleeping soundly, but this time Blanc is there with you, his arms wrapped around you. His body is tangled with yours, your legs intertwining as the bed sheets knot themselves around your limbs. Your head is resting right over his heart, the part of him that’s pounding away for you. Gently, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and stares down at your sleeping face, the face that shows him all of your thoughts and emotions, the face that belongs to the person who loves him enough to stay.

He wakes you up with a kiss on your forehead, a kiss on the bridge of your nose, a kiss on your left eyelid and a kiss on your right, a kiss on your jaw—

He sighs when you start to stir, propping yourself up on your elbows. The bed sheets fall off your body like water cascading down the side of a cliff, and your bleary eyes have never looked more beautiful. He lays there, admiring you in the morning light as the wind chimes chime, the soft breeze from the cracked open window ruffling through your hair.

You shiver.

“Darling,” Blanc calls, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Good morning.”

You smile when you turn to look at him, and you allow yourself to fall back against the mattress next to him.

“Good morning.” you murmur, your nails tracing the curve of his cheekbone before tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, “You look so handsome.”

Ever the charmer, he’s rarely been charmed himself. And so he does the only thing he deems appropriate, and thanks you with a kiss on the back of your hand.

Weeks pass, and Blanc finds himself growing into this new routine. You're a sign of change, that he knows for sure. His own room remains vacant for the most part unless you decide to pull him into his room instead of your own when you’re ready for bed. It makes no difference to him where you go, only that he can follow you like the lovesick fool he is.

Except you’re not leading him to either of your bedrooms tonight.

You’re leading him outside, under the pale moonlight and into the chilly nighttime breeze. He looks up at the full moon and holds your hand a little tighter.

“Thank you for giving me time.” you say, the wind swelling as it passes between the two of you and further into the night, “I’m ready to tell you what I’ve been hiding from you now. It’s...not fair to keep it from you any longer.”

“I understand,” he smiles softly, cupping your cheek, “Go ahead.”

“I’m a vampire.” you say, and it takes his brain a few moments to catch up, “I’ve...found it hard to get blood in Cradle but since meeting with Kyle’s he’s managed to get me blood when I need it. I don’t like drinking from animals or people but it...has to be done for me to stay alive.”

Blanc’s brain is whirring as you spill your guts to him, your mouth moving faster and faster as you explain how despised vampires are in the Land of Reason, how people view them as monsters and how you’re certain you’re cursed.

Cursed. What a funny word to say to him.

“Is that why your canines are so sharp?” he blurts, leaning closer to your face.

You stop talking, bending backward just a bit at his sudden closeness.

“I—I’m sorry, what?” you ask, looking confused.

“Ah, well....I always thought they were cute.” he smiles kindly, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone.

“I...” you blink owlishly before shaking your head in disbelief, “Blanc, I just told you I’m a vampire.”

“Indeed you did.”

Your mouth falls open as if looking for the right words to say, and yet you come up with nothing.

“You can feed from me if you wish. I don’t want you to suffer any longer.” he offers like its the most natural thing in the world.

Still, you say nothing.

And then he murmurs your name, as soft as the flower petals brushing against your ankles.

“I don’t want to use you like that. I don’t want you to be a food source for me.” you grit your teeth, staring at the ground like you couldn’t be more ashamed, “I don’t want to be the monster the Land of Reason made me out to be.”

“You’re not. I give myself to you willingly, and I'll do it over and over again.” Blanc murmurs, hands slipping away from you.

It takes you a moment to realize he’s slowly undoing the buttons on his shirt, leaving his collarbone open to the nighttime breeze and your eyes.

“My love.” he opens his arms for you and his shirt slips off his shoulder, leaving his skin vulnerable—

“I give myself to you.”

And he pulls you into his chest, as he whispers words of love telling you that you can bite him, drink from him, take all that you need and that it will be okay because he’d give you everything if you asked for it, and that you changed his life for the better, you brought springtime’s flowers and winter’s shimmering ice and summer’s warm sunlight and autumn’s delicate, beautiful leaves to a life that was so repetitive and boring until you arrived—a life that belonged to the man you see before you but not anymore because its yours and it will always be yours.

Tears prick your eyes as you kiss his skin, worshiping each freckle and small scar you can reach. Your canines poke insistently at his skin and you ignore the urge for one, two, three, four, five seconds before your mouth opens and you bite down, hoping the small gasp that leaves his lips isn’t one of pain. You’re careful not to take too much but it tastes so good and who knew drinking from the one you loved could make you feel so happy and full.

Blanc looks up at the moon as you feed, happiness and adoration blurring his vision as he thinks about you, you who trusted him enough to bite him, to tell him who you were, you who stayed behind for him even though you could have left.

He stares up at the moon and sighs because he’s in love. He’s in love with you.

And after you’re done, after you pull away and lick the puncture marks to soothe them, after you press a dozen more kisses to his skin, Blanc still loves you. His blood is smeared around your mouth but he pulls you in anyway, kissing you with everything he has because you deserve nothing less than that.

And he loves you.

Over and over again, he loves you.

He doesn’t know how long he’ll be aging or how long you will have by his side, but he knows that if you will forever be his constant, he’ll come out okay in the end.

[bedoballoons]

GENSHIN BOYS WITH A FEM!THIN/UNDERWEIGHT READER???? ive always been rlly thin, so it’s not eating disorder related just a scrawny fem!reader

OOOOOO OKIE!! I've always been thicker myself so I hope I wrote this well! Thank you for your request and I hope you enjoy the characters I picked!!

─⊰💕𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤💕⊰─

{༻~Scrawny and cute~༺}

CW: Fem! Reader described as being very thin!, fluffy and sweet!

A/n: First time writing Gaming!! EEE so excited!! Hope I did him justice!!

(Includes: Lyney, Gaming, and Venti!)

𑁍༄Lyney:

You tried to stay perfectly still as Lynette measured you...how had you gotten in this position? You weren't really sure, all you knew was that Lyney was special ordering you a outfit for his next show and he'd asked his sister to measure you, only she seemed a little perplexed with the results. "You're eating right? You make sure to have three meals a day? Maybe even some snacks?"

You raised a eyebrow at her, "Yes of course. Why do you ask?"

She paused for a second, her features not giving any hint to what she was feeling, "Your measurements are just very small, for a second I was worried you might need to eat more."

"Nope, I was actually worried about that at first as well, but I always make food and she eats it. She's just naturally thin, which is exactly why I'm thinking you'll be perfect for the trick I have in mind...if that's alright of course?"

You and Lynette turned your attention to Lyney as he walked up to you, his eyes sparkling with inspiration as you contemplated his request. "Hmm do I get a kiss after the show?"

"As if you wouldn't mon amour~"

𑁍༄Gaming:

"Woah here let me get that for ya!"

"Watch your step, don't want you to fall!"

"Get to safety I'll take care of them!"

You'd heard them a few to many times lately, you knew Gaming was only looking out for you, he was a caring guy and he truly just wanted to make sure you were okay all the time...even if he was being a little to...over protective. Yes you were a bit scrawnier than he was...his claymore probably weighed more then you did, but that didn't mean he had to do everything for you..., "Hey Gaming? You know you don't have to do all that stuff for me right? I can do it just fine I swea-"

"Oh I have no doubts you could, I just figured when I'm with you, you shouldn't have to. Hmm how do I put this...you're one of the most precious things to me, so I want to take care of you." He scratched the back of his neck, a blush creeping onto his cheeks, "Maybe I was over doing it though...sorry. Promise i'll remember that for next time, for now lets enjoy some dim sum!"

𑁍༄Venti:

Venti wrapped his arms around your waist tightly and rested his chin on your shoulder, watching as ran your fingers over the details engraved in his lyre. He'd been teaching you how to play little by little everyday and now you could almost strum a whole song...but it still just didn't sound as good as when he played it, "Venti do you think one day my music will induce feelings like yours does? I want to play you a melody that leaves you feeling calm and happy, just like you do to me."

He smiled softly and kissed your cheek, his embrace growing slightly tighter around your slim waist, "I think one day you will make music that leaves everyone feeling calm and free, you have talent and a beauty even crystal flies would be jealous of."

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words and butterflies fill your stomach...one day. One day you'd play him a tune that explained every feeling just right and then when he held you tightly after, chuckling happily and making a joke about how he hopes he doesn't break you with his hugs...you'd tell him just how much you loved him and it would be the most perfect of days.

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day!~*⁠.⁠✧

[n1ght0f-nyx]

woven bonds pt 3

pert'ah x fem reader

over the last few weeks of living with your arranged orc husband, you start to grow comfortable with him, curious about his culture

tags/warnings- arranged marriage, human female x male orc, gentle giant, your starting to develop feelings for big man

also feel free to request non-woven bonds related things that involve pert'ah or my other ocs (see my masterlist) i love writing for all these characters and seeing the mass of support ive gotten over the last month!

word count-1471

The forest around Pert'ah’s hut had started to feel familiar to you. The once oppressive canopy of trees, with their towering trunks and rustling leaves, now seemed to whisper secrets of their own, ancient and comforting. You spent more time outside, watching the way the sunlight filtered through the branches, how the world around you moved with a calm rhythm that you were only now starting to understand.

Pert'ah, as usual, worked diligently nearby, his large hands carefully guiding a bundle of thread through the wooden loom. The patterns he wove—so intricate, so delicate—fascinated you. Though you had watched him for weeks now, there was something different about the way you felt today. The walls you had built inside yourself, those walls of anger and sorrow, were beginning to erode. In their place was curiosity.

You found yourself wondering how he could create such beauty with hands that looked like they were made for something else entirely. You wondered about him, about his past, about the life he lived before you were forced into this arranged marriage. The thought of learning more made your heart beat a little faster.

Gathering your courage, you stepped closer to him.

“Pert’ah?” you asked quietly, watching as his broad shoulders tensed for just a second before he turned to look at you, his deep-set eyes widening slightly in surprise. You weren’t sure you had ever spoken his name with such softness before.

“Yes, [Name]?” he responded, his voice calm but filled with the kind of hope that made your chest tighten. His hands paused on the loom, waiting for what you had to say.

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded toward the weaving. “Can you… can you teach me how to do that?”

For a brief moment, you worried that maybe your question was too sudden, that he wouldn’t want to share something so personal. But the way Pert’ah’s face lit up erased all your doubts. His smile was wide, his tusks just barely showing as his eyes softened with warmth.

“You want to learn?” he asked, his voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and joy. He quickly stood up, brushing his hands on his simple tunic as if trying to prepare himself. “I teach! Yes, yes. Come sit.”

You moved to sit beside him, feeling a little self-conscious at first. His hands, so much larger than yours, gently guided your fingers to the loom, showing you how to thread the yarn through with care. He spoke softly, explaining the different colors and patterns orcs used, and how each design had a meaning tied to it—family, nature, strength. You could hear the pride in his voice as he spoke of orc culture, and for the first time, you didn’t feel the same resistance you once had.

As you worked together, your hands moving awkwardly through the motions he showed you, you found yourself laughing at your mistakes. Pert’ah chuckled beside you, his deep laugh resonating in your chest like a low rumble. There was no judgment in his gaze, only patience.

“You do good,” he said, nodding in approval as you finally managed to weave a few rows without getting tangled in the threads. “Better than first time I try.”

You grinned, feeling a strange sense of pride in his praise. “Thank you,” you said quietly, meeting his eyes. “I didn’t know weaving could be so… peaceful.”

He nodded. “It is. Make me feel calm. Like world slow down when I work. Orcs… we no always fight. We build. We make.”

You found yourself wanting to know more. The orcs had always been painted as brutish, war-hungry creatures in your world, but everything about Pert’ah contradicted that. He was an artist, a craftsman.

“Is that why you became a weaver?” you asked, genuinely curious now. “Because it brings you peace?”

Pert'ah tilted his head, thinking for a moment before nodding. “Yes. My father, he was warrior. Wanted me to fight too. But I no like it.” He glanced down at his hands, flexing his fingers as if remembering something. “I not good at hurting. I better at making things. I want to create, not destroy. So I leave fighting. I make my own path.”

There was something in the way he said that, a quiet strength, that resonated with you. He had chosen to go against the expectations of his people, to find his own place in the world, and that took a kind of bravery you hadn’t expected from him.

You found yourself smiling again, a small, genuine smile. “I think that’s… admirable,” you said softly, feeling warmth spread through your chest as you spoke. “You’ve built something beautiful here.”

Pert’ah’s eyes flickered with surprise at your words, and for a moment, you thought he might not know how to respond. But then, his expression softened, and he looked at you as though you had just given him a gift.

“I glad you see,” he said quietly, his voice full of emotion. “I make it for us. For you.”

There was something in his gaze—something so tender and full of hope—that made you feel a strange flutter in your chest. You had seen that look before, but now, it didn’t make you uncomfortable. In fact, it made you feel… safe.

The days that followed were filled with quiet moments like this. You and Pert’ah spent more time together, talking, learning about each other in a way that felt natural. You asked him about his art, about orc traditions and stories, and he answered each question with a kind of reverence, as though he cherished the opportunity to share these things with you. And the more you learned, the more you realized how wrong your people had been about the orcs.

They weren’t savages. They had a rich culture, full of art and history. Pert’ah had once shown you a collection of his tapestries—each one telling a different story of orc ancestors, their triumphs and losses. You could see how much pride he took in preserving these traditions, and it made you want to learn more.

One afternoon, as you both sat by the fire, you found yourself asking a question you hadn’t dared to before.

“Pert’ah… why did you agree to this marriage?” you asked, your voice hesitant. “Why me?”

Pert’ah looked at you, his eyes softening as he considered your question. He was silent for a moment, then he sighed deeply.

“I no want you be sold,” he said, his voice low and serious. “I no think it right. But when your father come… he say it bring peace between our people. I think… maybe, if we together, we no have to fight anymore. Maybe we find way to live better.”

He paused, his gaze lowering to the fire. “But more than that… I see you. When I first meet you, I see sadness in your eyes. I think maybe… I can make it go away. I want make you happy.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for the first time, you felt a deep ache in your chest—not from anger or resentment, but from something else. You realized then that Pert’ah hadn’t just seen you as a human, as someone different from him. He had seen you as a person, someone who was hurting, and he had wanted to help.

Slowly, you reached out and placed your hand on his, your fingers gently brushing against his rough skin. He looked up at you, surprise flashing across his face, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his hand turned, his fingers curling gently around yours.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “For everything.”

Pert’ah’s grip tightened slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “You no need thank me,” he murmured. “I do because… I care for you.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell, and for the first time since your marriage, you felt a real connection between the two of you—a bond that had nothing to do with politics or peace treaties. It was something deeper, something real.

As the fire crackled beside you, you found yourself leaning just a little closer to him, your head resting against his shoulder. He stiffened for a moment, as if unsure of what to do, but then he relaxed, his arm gently wrapping around you in a way that felt natural, protective.

In that moment, you knew you were falling for him. You weren’t just coming out of your shell—you were opening your heart. And with each passing day, you found it easier to see Pert’ah not as the orc you had been forced to marry, but as the man who had shown you kindness, patience, and a love that was growing stronger with every beat of his heart.

And you were ready to let that love in.

[dindjarindiaries]

Hunter was trying to be a good older brother to Crosshair and a good father to Omega in The Return, despite a few moments of weakness, through protectiveness, observation, and supportiveness. He ultimately succeeded in his objectives.

The Bad Batch S3E5 "The Return" will always be one of my favorites because it doesn't shy away from the complexity of the family's dynamic after 1) losing Tech, who was often a peacekeeper/mitigator, and 2) regaining Crosshair. While I, and many others, wish the former was explored more, it does an excellent job of showing us even more about these siblings' dynamics than we even knew before.

As always with any analysis, this is a disclaimer that you may view this episode in an entirely different way due to various biases, one of the most notable being based upon your own favorite characters and your own life experience. All I ask is that you read through carefully before chiming in with any counterarguments!

The line of dialogue that most of my argument here hinges upon is from Hunter about midway through the episode, just before his and Crosshair's fight.

"I know you."

Going back to the very beginning of the episode, we see Hunter and Wrecker sitting and waiting for Omega to wake up. Crosshair's clearly not there, and when Omega asks about their brother's whereabouts, Wrecker says he wasn't there when they woke up, before Hunter adds this.

His face is clearly displaying concern, even though his words are reassuring. He's no doubt worried about Crosshair, too, but like he says later on: he knows Crosshair. He knows what to do when Crosshair's upset, and that the sniper wants/needs time alone, hence why he and Wrecker didn't go after him. Hunter is trying to reassure Omega, who isn't as familiar with Crosshair at this point, by insisting that this is how he adjusts to change. It's important to note that there doesn't really seem to be any hostility radiating from Hunter (or Wrecker) towards Crosshair here.

In fact, the duo only gets up and goes to check on Crosshair once Omega's involved. This proves something else that's important to understand for Hunter's character in this episode: he's wrestling with both his concern for Crosshair and his protectiveness over Omega, and that's because of this moment from season 1:

Because of Crosshair telling Hunter in S1E15 that he had his inhibitor chip removed, without the context of when, Hunter has to assume for Omega's safety that this was Crosshair acting of his own accord. This is because, if Hunter's to be a reliable protector of her, he always has to be as cautious as possible with those she's surrounded by—and unfortunately, in this case, that includes Crosshair.

(Remember that, even as the sergeant of Clone Force 99 and the eldest brother/caretaker of their family, Hunter's priorities have shifted since the war ended; Omega now comes before all else. He says this as early as S1E7 to Rex, when they had only had Omega for a short time. This is now at least a year after those events, which means that sentiment's only grown stronger for Hunter, especially after losing Omega to the Empire for six months.)

Because Crosshair is smart and also knows his brothers just like they know him, he comes to this conclusion himself. This is why he's not surprised when they start watching him and Omega from a distance, and why Crosshair insists it's because "They don't trust me."

Then, Echo arrives, and they start making plans to go to Barton IV. This is where we see Hunter's protectiveness of Omega really shining, along with some interesting glimpses of Hunter's concern/curiosity about Crosshair and what he went through.

The fact that Omega and Hunter have the same expression here... that's intentional. Omega is but a mirror of her brothers, and always has been ever since she met them. She and Hunter are literally displaying the same amount of sympathy and concern for Crosshair here.

Now, this look from Hunter that's immediately after Crosshair's done talking is read as anger from a lot of people, which is understandable. To me, though, especially through this lens, it looks more like Hunter is coming to a conclusion. Hunter can tell that Crosshair knows more (and has gone through more) than he's letting on about, but he doesn't care that much about getting the intel that Echo no doubt wants. Hunter just doesn't like the fact that Crosshair won't open up about what happened to him.

It's important to keep in mind that as Hunter and Wrecker were watching Omega and Crosshair before, they undoubtedly saw Crosshair's target practice going poorly. Hunter would certainly make note of that, and thinking of his physical struggles along with hearing this... well, yeah, Hunter's gonna have a serious pondering face, because he wants to know what's wrong with his youngest brother so he can help him. But because he knows his brother, he knows that he has to keep his space for now and be mindful.

Once plans for the trip to Barton IV come up, Hunter proposes that he goes with Crosshair and Echo, again proving that Hunter isn't really trying to avoid Crosshair. In fact, Hunter only expresses any concern when Omega wants to join, and we all know why. He's worried about her and doesn't want to risk it, which he says plainly.

It's clear, though, that Hunter is still worried about Crosshair being so close to Omega, too, especially if they're going to an Imperial hideout. Hunter has trauma from that moment in S1E8, and it's not easy for him to see past that, as much as he does still care and worry for his youngest brother. Again, he has to suspect that anyone is capable of hurting her, aside from the brothers who've been protecting her alongside himself the entire time.

Crosshair even acknowledges this when he and Hunter pass one another while packing up the night before.

(I'd like to note that, in this moment, Hunter's the one who moves to accommodate Crosshair's path. To me, that's more evidence of the fact that Hunter is keeping a safe distance from Crosshair to let him process, but because Omega's there too, he's also keeping a watchful eye on him. He's really torn between the two.)

"Don't hold it against him," Crosshair tells Omega. Why? Because:

Crosshair understands that most, if not all, of Hunter's moments of caution towards Crosshair have everything to do with Omega and her safety, rather than Hunter being angry at Crosshair. Hunter doesn't like that Omega's going on this risky mission, and he really doesn't like that it's happening with Crosshair there, when he hasn't even told Hunter everything that happened. How is he supposed to properly protect her (and Crosshair) without knowing all the details?

(And how sweet is it that Crosshair agrees with Hunter's take on Omega coming with them?)

They get to Barton IV, and there, we get one of Hunter's moments of weakness, when he's really giving in to his protectiveness of Omega and his frustration/worry about having such few details about Crosshair and his falling out with the Empire.

(But first, let's quickly acknowledge Crosshair emerging in his old armor, and the fact that Hunter, Wrecker, and the others kept it. Hunter (and Wrecker I believe) both lost pieces of their armor during their search for Omega, no doubt either losing them in dangerous situations or selling things to get by, but they never once touched Crosshair's kit—even when it would have been really easy to sell his things before selling their own.)

Because the base is empty, Hunter starts to worry that it's a sign of something bad. Remember, just because Hunter is the level-headed sergeant and leader of the group, he's not immune to trauma. Imagine how traumatizing Eriadu and all his failed attempts to find Omega with Wrecker were for him, especially with him literally being a tracker. The last time they were all together like this on a mission was when Tech died.

So, Hunter gives into that protective sense and challenges Crosshair, because now he needs the details. He has a sense that this place is notable to Crosshair, but not how, and if he wants to protect Omega, who is his main priority, he has to find out. He's also getting more and more frustrated that Crosshair won't talk to him about it.

This can be evidenced by one of their exchanges. It's only after Crosshair brings up his cell again that Hunter insists, "I get the feeling there's more to this place than you're saying." And... well, Hunter's right. This is a place of trauma for Crosshair, and Hunter's no doubt picking up on that. After being reminded of Crosshair's imprisonment, Hunter has to ask, he has to press, in his mind, for the wellbeing of Omega, Crosshair, and the rest of his squad.

Again, Hunter doesn't like operating off little information to accomplish all these things. He's a protector at heart, and he always has been. Crosshair not giving him all the details he can remember (likely because of his own trauma) makes Hunter feel even more on edge, and that's why he lashes out a bit more at his brother, questioning him about why he didn't mention the raiders before.

Unfortunately, with Crosshair deflecting to avoid his own hurt, Hunter takes the bait and engages, leading to their exchange of "Just following orders?" "If you're scared, why don't you wait on the ship?" Thankfully, Echo steps in and breaks it up, which gives Hunter time to clear his head again. This is Hunter's first biggest moment of weakness.

Now, we're getting to one of my favorite sequences: Hunter watching Crosshair from a distance inside the depot.

Hunter clocks Crosshair's discomfort right away after Echo says that Crosshair's words about the base serving its purpose "Sounds familiar." Again, it's easy to understand why people might read this as Hunter being angry or cautious, but to me, it looks like Hunter's just trying to get a read on why that particular exchange sent Crosshair away, and what exactly he's looking for.

Wanting to figure out more so that he can help Crosshair and thus help them all in this very moment, Hunter quietly follows Crosshair, and that's what leads to him seeing Crosshair pick up Mayday and the other regs' helmets.

(Hunter lurking in the back right. I'm obsessed with this shot.)

Remember, Hunter is observing this as someone who remembers Crosshair not wanting anything to do with the regs. He antagonized them perhaps the most out of any other in the squad during their arc in The Clone Wars, and he even told Hunter in S1E15 that the Batch was superior to the regs, and to most other soldiers in general. Hunter seeing Crosshair treat these reg helmets with such reverence is such a strong indication to him that something major has shifted for Crosshair, and it had likely happened on this planet.

But Hunter, again, knowing his brother, remains a quiet observer. It would've been easy for him to engage here, but he recognizes that Crosshair needs this moment to himself. Hunter even leaves him to it after. Would someone who really didn't trust Crosshair at all whatsoever turn their back to him like that? What he does is give his brother privacy, and acknowledge that he needs to know what happened... but this isn't the right place or time to be pressing him about it.

Danger is lurking, though, and Hunter's desperation to know the truth so he can be better equipped is growing. It hits a peak when Crosshair, prompted by Batcher's barking, checks the perimeter by himself. Pay close attention to how Hunter reacts to Crosshair's exit.

It isn't really anger in this expression. Wrecker's behind him is certainly one of concern. Hunter instead looks determined, and that's because he's about to pursue Crosshair to start getting answers. He's tired of not knowing, and because the stakes are starting to rise, and the evidence is all around him. Hunter decides that he's given enough space and now has to push Crosshair to talk to him.

Because, as Hunter's about to say in a few seconds, he knows Crosshair. He knows, and from what Echo says later, he's always known how to get Crosshair to talk, and it seems that it often involves some fighting and bloodshed—because Crosshair has a harder time opening up than his other brothers.

But Hunter will be damned if he doesn't try, especially now that Omega's safety could depend on this information.

Now, at last, we're at the pinnacle moment of the episode for these two characters: the fight, and another moment of weakness for Hunter. He reminds Crosshair that he knows him, and he demands this time to know what exactly happened here.

Hunter, because he knows his brother, has to push Crosshair (literally) to get anything out of him. He doesn't want this to be simple bickering like before. So, Hunter goes for a low blow. He knows that Crosshair values loyalty above all else, so he brings up Crosshair's disloyalty to both the Empire and their own squad, knowing it'll hurt him enough to get some real responses out of him.

Then comes the physical shove. This is a clear demand for Crosshair to start giving answers.

But look at how Hunter's expression changes as he waits for Crosshair to talk.

His brow softens, because Crosshair's hesitance to say or do something right away is evidence of the fact that it's something really, really serious that happened. At the end of the day, he's just worried for his brother. He wants to know, needs to know, so he can help him. It almost looks like he's pleading for an answer here.

And Crosshair does answer truthfully, revealing that he killed Lt. Nolan. Hunter is obviously shocked, and he even has a somewhat guilty reaction to Crosshair saying "after they betrayed me", because, I mean, we all know Hunter's been harboring guilt for leaving Crosshair behind.

That's when Crosshair digs his claws in to protect himself, too, also going for low blows against Hunter—starting with Hunter ignoring the warning Crosshair had sent from Tantiss.

(What's really telling to me here is that Hunter doesn't once defend himself when he easily could have. He could have told Crosshair that he was the only one who wanted to listen to Crosshair's warning, but that his and the rest of the squad's desire to try to save Crosshair ultimately won out. But he doesn't. He just takes it.)

Hunter only starts to get really angry when Crosshair gets Omega involved.

Hunter turned Crosshair's loyalty against him, so Crosshair turns Hunter's protectiveness against him. Imagine being a protector like Hunter, who's even more fiercely protective of Omega, and being told that after months of desperate, worried searching, you're the reason why the person you care the most about went through their worst bout of suffering.

Yeah, that stings. Especially because there's truth to it, the part about his jealousy towards Crosshair being the one to free her instead of himself. Hunter no doubt felt like he had failed as Omega's protector by losing her to the Empire, and not only that, but the brother he left behind had to be the one to bring her back to them.

(I also think that, in reading between the lines in this entire part of Crosshair's argument, he could even be insinuating that Hunter's shouldering the blame for Tech's death. If he knows the details, then he knows that ultimately, Hunter's the one who approved the mission. "You ignored it", in reference to Crosshair's message, could mean that both Tech and Omega could have been safe if Hunter had simply made the right call. It may not have been intentional on Crosshair's part, but I could easily see Hunter thinking that, especially if he already felt guilty about it.)

No wonder why these two are about to fist fight in the snow. Their ugliest, scariest monsters have finally come out.

And that's when the scary monster comes out, too.

(I love the symbolism!)

Hunter immediately snaps back into his protector mode. He warns Crosshair to move, but also physically shoves Crosshair out of the way and takes his previous place, making himself the one who's closest to the threat.

(Hunter does this a lot with his squad, by the way.)

They focus on getting to safety, and then figuring out a plan with the others to get the wyrm back outside the perimeter. This is when Hunter insists that they have to make sure the wyrm is drawn out that far so that they're not trapped inside with it, and Crosshair volunteers to take it on his own. But Hunter's not okay with that.

You would think that Hunter would want to be as far away from Crosshair as possible after what just transpired, but he doesn't. Instead, in this moment, Hunter is assuring Crosshair that he doesn't have to do things alone anymore, that they're brothers at the end of the day, and he wants to help. I think this is Hunter's first true attempt at making a truce with Crosshair, and attempting to extend his hand to him.

Of course, Crosshair snaps back asking Hunter if he's sure that's what he wants, and that leads to a moment of tension—but notice that, unlike the other times, Hunter doesn't retaliate. He understands with more clarity now why Crosshair's lashing out. Crosshair's hurting.

So, in teaming up with Crosshair here, Hunter knows he can mend what's most important to Crosshair by proving it with his actions: loyalty.

If anything, what Crosshair lashing out here and what Hunter going with him proves is that Crosshair's mostly hurt that he's lost the loyalty/trust of his brothers. When they get out there and Hunter's trapped underneath the ice, left to rely on his brother for guidance and rescue, it allows Crosshair to mend that sense of loyalty and trust. He can earn it back.

Not because Hunter necessarily needs him to do that, although it certainly is helpful, but because Hunter knows that Crosshair needs that. Crosshair needs to feel reliable to them again.

That's what's so perfect about Hunter's safety literally being in Crosshair's hands here. They're able to banter the way they likely would've during the war, and Hunter doesn't hesitate when Crosshair extends his rifle to pull him up and get him out of the hole in the ice.

Hunter gets proof that he can indeed trust Crosshair with his life again, and Crosshair gets that proof, too. Because, at the end of the day, they're just an eldest and youngest brother. Youngest siblings (I say as a youngest child myself) are often looking for validation and trust from their older siblings, especially the eldest. This display of trust must've been so, so validating and healing for Crosshair.

That brings us back to that first line of dialogue I highlighted: "I know you." Hunter knew Crosshair was hurting like this all along, and while he was struggling between his protectiveness over Omega and his concern for Crosshair, he was finally able to make his brother's journey to healing happen.

We then get the nods of mutual trust, understanding, apologies, and forgiveness, before they sit in peace together.

(This is one of my favorite shots in all of Star Wars. I mean, come on.)

I love how the shift in their dynamic is evident enough that everyone recognizes it once they get back. They hug it out with Wrecker, and then we shift into one of the most meaningful dialogue exchanges we'll ever get between them.

Now that Crosshair's laid more of his vulnerabilities out on the table, he seeks reassurance in Hunter. Again, youngest siblings so often just want to feel validated by their older siblings, especially the eldest. Crosshair's looked to Hunter to lead him and guide him his whole life. This is why the guilt's so evident when he comes clean about making mistakes with the Empire.

It would've been so easy for Hunter to say yeah, you did make mistakes, you did hurt us and many innocent people. Instead, Hunter says these simple few words that carry so much weight:

Hunter takes on that burden with Crosshair. He lets his own vulnerabilities show by saying, yeah, I'm with you there, there are things I wish I hadn't done, either. He then gives him reassurance and hope by saying that they can forge a new path forward, that they're not tied down by who they used to be, nor what bad decisions they made.

Hunter is putting them on the same level here, and for someone like Crosshair, who probably thought his brothers would never trust him nor accept him the way they used to because of what he's done, this means everything.

(I also feel like Crosshair really needed to hear the "I have regrets too" line from Hunter in particular. He needed a hint that Hunter really did regret leaving him behind, even if it was the best/safest option for the rest of the squad at the time. You can certainly still regret doing something, even if it was the best option at that time.)

In summary, The Return is about not just a return to Barton IV, but a return to who Clone Force 99 used to be. Crosshair's return to his squad, the return of their trust in him and vice versa. A return to the familiar.

Hunter didn't handle this perfectly, nor would anyone who was in his shoes with all these complicated relationships and trauma, but he did his best. Even while caught between his concern for Crosshair and his fierce protectiveness of Omega and the members of his family that he had left, Hunter still found a way to make things right. He completed both objectives.

For as much as Crosshair needed to have the trust of his family back, Hunter needed the reassurance that he could still keep his entire family safe on missions like these. He needed to know he could still take care of them, physically and emotionally.

And he succeeded.

[kkuzushi]

Haii! Ive read your sub Heizou fic and omg... I kept thinking about scaramouche while reading it. I've also taken a liking to your page! Your writing is soo goodnendksjdnxw sub scaramouche fic when? 🥰🥰🎀🎀

(I feel like in going to interact with your page alot so can I be 🎸 anon? >_<)

“ 𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗮 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 ”

✦ 𝗰haracters: sub!scaramouche x dom!reader

✦ 𝗰w: mirror sex (at the end), implied orgasm denial, implied overstimulation, slight choking, cock can be interpreted as strap

✦ 𝘄ord count: 1.02k

✦ 𝗻otes: You’re always welcome to my page, lovely 🎸. This is written especially for you. <3

It became a routine for Scaramouche to send pictures of himself when wearing different outfits. It was just a time to time update, like you had asked, but he had gotten unexpectedly used to it.

For a man who has impeccable fashion taste, you would always shower him with compliments with every picture he sent—because of that, he saw it as a way to get your attention.

As usual, you received a notification from Scaramouche and it was a mirror shot. The picture was enough to make you smile but what took your attention was the message he sent after it.

"It's been a week, when are you coming over?"

Scaramouche had gotten clingy as well after establishing a relationship.. or maybe there's something he's after.

"My schedule's packed for this week, maybe by the end of the month we get to spend time again."

You replied, which he immediately read. It took a while for him to respond as it turns out, he was preparing another picture for you. Only this time, his shirt was lifted up, his teeth biting on the fabric to expose his stomach.

"How about right now?" He sent with the picture.

You could almost read where he's going along with this but you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

After a few back and forth bickering, his pictures and messages had only gotten more and more explicit.

"My bed's missing you."

"Wanna show me what 34+35 is equal to?"

"Something wants to be filled and it's not my expectations."

If only he knew how much you actually wanted to rail him right now. If your schedule wasn't so packed, you'd be having your way with him.

Though who said you can't? It didn't take long for you to arrive at his place, a sight you could never get tired of unfolding right before you.

Scaramouche's nails clawed your back, almost holding for dear life as you mindlessly pounded him to oblivion.

"Wait..! Too full~!!" His grip around you tightened as he squealed with every thrust you give him.

"For someone so teasing, you sure can't take a lot," You commented, grabbing his thighs to push back, spreading it out even more.

Scaramouche's eyes narrowed down at you, biting his lips gently before speaking, "I didn't expect that simple words would provoke you."

His statement made you chuckle before closing the distance between the two of you. His legs spread apart as you pushed your cock all the way inside, resting close to his prostate, making him squirm from the sensation.

"It didn't provoke me, Scara," you cooed to his ear, "It only motivated me."

Before he could respond, you bucked your hips, finally hitting his prostate. Scaramouche's eyes widened as he lets out what could only be described as a scream.

"ngAHh~!! ♡ ♡" His back arched from the sudden thrust to his prostate, a hoarse moan was forced out of him, eyes rolling back from the pleasure.

Your back has been marked to the core by his nails, it was painful yet you enjoyed the feeling—after all, it was the result of having your way with him.

Scaramouche's thighs starts to tremble, his head rolling back as moans after moans stream out of his throat.

Just the way his body reacts to his prostate getting abused turned you on, how could you ever get tired of fucking this man?

"Do I fuck you good, Scaramouche?" You grunted, hands on his waist to keep yourself moving on the same pace. The only answer given to you were mewls, poor Scaramouche can't even think properly as he seems to be seeing stars now.

"aH~ aH!~ goofmgnh~ sho goodddh~!! ♡" A few minutes after your question, Scaramouche starts to ramble, his tongue lolling out of his mouth with every word he says.

His cock was leaking precum, spilling all the way to his thighs. If he wasn't so focused on having your permission, he would've finished since then—but only good boys get that, right?

The sound of skin hitting skin was loud as you fucked Scaramouche harshly yet his moans were still louder than anything else. His pretty body was filled with fresh bitemarks and hickeys, even on places that's exposed easily. Not to worry, he won't be complaining anytime soon.

"fuck..! fuck! mnghah..!" He squealed as he watched your cock disappearing with every thrust you give, almost like his hole was sucking it in. His inner walls tightened, receiving a moan from you, "hagh- g-gonna cum!~ ♡"

His words served as a signal as you swiftly changed his position, turning him around to make him face his bedroom mirror. Scaramouche's eyes widened after realising your intentions.

"N-not like thisfhAHH~♡♡!!" Words were cut once his felt your cock fucking him in a rougher pace. You pinned his hands on his back, your free hand crawling up and wrapping around his neck so tenderly.

"Look at yourself as you cum," You whispered to his ear, your eyes staring at his in the mirror. The way you talked to him didn't help, everything was deliberately turning him on, his back arching further as he felt his body grow weak.

He was close, so close to finishing. Scaramouche knew that if he disobeyed this one last command from you, it's back to square one. His eyes never left the mirror, scanning the way his body gets pounded by you. The sight alone was making him scream in pleasure.

"mngha- cummi— i'm cummingghhaHH~!! ♡♡♡" Scaramouche's eyes rolled back, a long moan flowing out his mouth as his cock squirted cum all over the place, even reaching the mirror.

Once the white fluid stops spilling out of him, his volume decreased. What could only be heard now are heavy pants from him, his chest heaving with every breath he took.

"We're not yet done," his eyes widened once more as he hears you speak down to his nape, "You still have to make me cum, remember?"

Exhaustion has never felt this pleasing, Scaramouche knew he was in for a long night, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

[aventurineswife]

hii there!! this is my first request ever— so sorry if its bad and u dont need to do if id you’re uncomfortable ofc :)) ive had to leave people whom i thought were good friends many times, or ive been abandoned by them and its happened again recently—

so may i ask that you write something with either aventurine or dan heng (u can pick one or both) seeing the reader in their room in the aftermath of having to leave another friend or group of friends? the scenario i have imagined is that the reader is also feeling alot worse than usual since they are starting to feel that they might be the problem. theyre crying about it in their room where the other hears them and comes to check the reader out of worry. the reader talks to them about it and the other comforts them and promises that they wont have to worry about having to leave or being abandoned by them.

so sorry if thats an odd, specific request 🥹🥹 i adore ur writing and i thought it would be cool to ask!! feel free to change anything as you see fit :)

“You Are Not the Storm”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Support, Angst with a Happy Ending, Found Family, Reassurance, can be read as platonic or romantic.

Warnings: Mentions of loneliness and self-doubt, Emotional distress and crying, Themes of abandonment and self-blame.

A/N: I'm so sorry to hear that, anon 😕 i totally get where you're coming from, I had to leave a friend too because of personal reasons and this has happened to me throughout my life, so I totally understand you. I'll be your friend if you'd like. Hope you like this!

The room was quiet save for the muffled sound of sobs. The soft light of the moon filtered through the blinds, casting silvery streaks across the floor. You sat on the edge of your bed, head buried in your hands, your shoulders shaking. The hurt was raw, cutting deeper this time. The thought repeated in your mind like a cruel mantra: Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m the problem.

A quiet knock came at the door. You barely registered it, lost in your spiral. Then the door opened gently, and a familiar voice called your name.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Aventurine’s voice was soft but carried an undercurrent of concern. His eyes were filled with worry. He leaned casually against the doorframe, trying not to overwhelm you with his presence. “You’ve been awfully quiet tonight. That’s unlike you.”

You sniffled, quickly wiping at your face. “I’m fine,” you lied, though your broken voice betrayed you.

Aventurine tilted his head, his hair catching the moonlight. “You don’t look fine, darling. And I don’t like hearing you cry.” He stepped into the room, crossing the space between you in a few strides before kneeling in front of you. He reached out, but his touch was tentative, giving you space.

You hesitated but eventually let the words spill out. “I had to leave again. Another friend, another group… It keeps happening. And I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why am I always the one who ends up alone?”

Your voice cracked, and tears welled up again. Aventurine reached out, this time cupping your hands in his gloved ones. His expression softened, his usual flamboyant charm replaced with a rare sincerity.

“Hey,” he said gently. “Listen to me. This—what you’re feeling—it’s not because you’re flawed. People come and go in life for a thousand reasons. Sometimes, it’s not about you at all. And sometimes… people just don’t see the brilliance that’s right in front of them.”

You shook your head, your doubts still gnawing at you. “But what if it is me? What if I’m too much? Or not enough?”

Aventurine gave a small, sad smile and squeezed your hands. “You’re enough. And anyone who makes you feel otherwise doesn’t deserve you in their life.” His eyes gleamed, his usual playful confidence creeping back in. “Besides, have you considered that maybe you’re just too fabulous for them to handle?”

Despite yourself, a faint chuckle escaped your lips, and Aventurine’s smile widened. “There we go. That’s better. Now,” he said, sitting beside you and throwing a casual arm over your shoulder, “let me make one thing clear. I’m not going anywhere. I’m stubborn like that. You’re stuck with me, darling.”

You leaned against him, letting his warmth and words sink in. For the first time that night, the weight on your chest eased, just a little.

Dan Heng stood outside your room on the Astral Express. He’d been walking by when he heard the faint sound of crying. At first, he thought it best to give you space, but his worry won out. Quietly, he knocked on the door.

“Come in.” you said, your voice weak.

Dan Heng stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room before landing on you. You sat curled up on your bed, clutching a blanket tightly.

“I heard you,” he said simply, standing a short distance away. “Are you… okay?”

You shook your head, and Dan Heng took a cautious step closer. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You hesitated before nodding, your voice trembling as you spoke. “I’ve had to leave my friends again. I feel like I ruin everything. Like I’m the problem.”

Dan Heng was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, his posture calm and unthreatening. “I don’t believe that. You care deeply about others—that much is clear to anyone who knows you. Losing people hurts, but it doesn’t mean you’re to blame.”

Tears streamed down your face. “But it keeps happening. How can it not be my fault?”

Dan Heng looked at you with quiet intensity. “Because sometimes, people grow apart. Or circumstances force things to change. It’s painful, but it’s not always within your control.” His voice softened. “You don’t have to carry all that blame alone. And you don’t have to worry about me leaving. I’ll stay by your side, no matter what.”

His words settled over you like a soothing balm, and you felt yourself relax slightly. Dan Heng reached out, his hand hovering before gently resting it on yours. “Take your time,” he said. “I’m here.”

And you believed him.