#jeonghan scenarios

[etherealyoungk]

enemies to lovers | yoon jeonghan

✩ seventeen as romantic tropes series ✩ masterlist ✩

PAIRING: jeonghan x reader

THEMES: enemies to lovers trope, academic rivals, college au

WARNINGS: use of curse words, maybe a little suggestive, kissing, mentions of stress

WORDCOUNT: 1349

A/N: enjoy <3

you hated yoon jeonghan. he got on your every nerve and cell and it made you want to strangle him on the spot. anything he did or said made your blood boil and your head hot. paired with that nonchalant attitude and snarky comments he'd pass, you'd rather spend time in jail than have to sit through another class with that idiot. you sometimes wonder what you did in your past life to deserve this kind of torture.

"yn you're still taking notes? class is over sweetheart", he says as he flashes you that fake smile, calling you that stupid pet name that made your blood boil, literally.

you grip your pen tighter, holding back the urge to stab him right then and there as you lift your head up and glare at him. "fuck off jeonghan", you tell, slamming you book shut as you pack up in a haste and leave, mentally holding back the urge to strangle him like you always do.

when you get called into your professor's office later that day, you don't expect to see jeonghan there and just seeing his face turns your mood sour. he gives you that smirky grin when he sees you and you take a seat beside him, hoping your professor has a good explanation for calling you both here.

"so", your professor starts off, bring his hands together. "i'm sure you know about the upcoming research project that is coming up. since this is a very prestigious project and since you both have been the top students, we thought it would be a great chance for you both to get to work and assist on this project", you professor explains.

"really?", you ask, not ready to believe it. this was huge, like huge. and you'd always wanted to do something like this.

"yes of course! that is only if you both want to do it. otherwise, we will pass the opportunity to other students. but since you both are excellent students we thought you would love this chance and offer it to you both first", he explains.

"of course, i'd love to assist on this project!", you tell, overjoyed and your professor smiles at your enthusiasm before he looks at jeonghan, waiting for his desicion.

"i'll do it", he tells cooly.

"great! i'll let the committee know and we can proceed from there. i'll give you a brief about the project tomorrow", your professor says and you both leave.

you pay no attention jeonghan as you walk out, marching right ahead. you didn't want any of his snarky comments to ruin the moment. meanwhile jeonghan's unseen handshake remains rejected and he pulls his hand back and shrugs, walking off.

the next week after getting the brief for the research project, you're walking out when jeonghan runs after you, matching his steps to yours as he walks beside you.

"so you're just going to ignore me? when i'm your partner for this project?", he asks, looking at you and that scowl that you always seem to have on your face. he was going to change that because he liked it better when you were smiling.

"maybe if you won't be such as ass i won't ignore you", you tell. "i will try but no promises", he tells with a stupid grin, as he pulls out his phone.

"give me your number", he asks, handing his phone to you and you look like he's asking you for some illegal substance. "to coordinate? since we need to work together, is that a strange concept for you yn? well, i know guys don't usually ask you out but you don't have to be that shocked", he jokes, and you narrow your eyes as you take his phone and punch in your phone number, handing it back to him.

over the next few weeks, you find yourself spending a lot more time with jeonghan. he might still be as ass at times and get on your nerves but damn, you couldn't dismiss the fact that he was incredibly smart and knew his stuff, which was attractive. he looked hot when he was in his element. the more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself being attracted to him and you so badly wanted to deny that, but jeonghan was definitely stirring up your heart.

you both are in the library, staying a little later than usual and most of the students have gone. you're on your laptop, typing away your findings and research for the day on the project. you rest your head on your palm before you sigh and rub your temples from the tension. things had been stressful lately, not only this research project, but you had a lot of things on your plate at the moment and things were piling up. you were barely managing to get sleep and the stress and tension was eating away at you. it didn't help that jeonghan would playfully try to flirt or throw snarky comments around.

"you looked stressed sweetheart, take a break", he says, sitting opposite you, his laptop conveniently closed after he announced that he was taking a break. "how about you shut up", you snap back, annoyed. you really should have strangled him ages ago.

"well, if you're stressed, i know some ways we can destress", he tells, giving you a wink, a fucking wink. you decide you've had enough. if he was going to play like that, two could play at that game.

"oh really?", you ask, putting your pen down. he gives you that shit-eating grin and stands up, running a hand through his hair as he looks at you.

you shut your laptop close and get up, the chair screeching backwards. suddenly you have this newfound confidence and you walk towards jeonghan. "you should show me", you tease and you see the slightly shocked expression on jeonghan, before you turn around, grab the book from the table and go to the last shelf to put the book back.

you hear footsteps coming towards you and you turn around, seeing jeonghan sauntering towards you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"want me to show you, sweetheart?" he quips with a teasing eyebrow. you're unable to resist the playful challenge so you reach out, tugging on his shirt to draw him closer. "please, enlighten me, what exactly is your method of destressing?" you ask with a teasing smile.

jeonghan looks at you with a playful smile gracing his lips as he takes a step forward, causing you to instinctively take one step back, until your back hits the wall, leaving you cornered. suddenly, a nervous flutter stirs in your chest, your heart pounding louder with each passing second as jeonghan leans in, his warm breath tickling your ear as he whispers, "i thought you hated me?"

a shiver runs down your spine at the proximity, but you refuse to let him see you falter. "i-i do," you stammer almost, your thoughts jumbled and disoriented. your hand still grips his shirt tightly as you meet his gaze, his playful grin only heightening the tension between you both.

you don't know what comes over you but you lean forward and plant a kiss on his lips. it takes him a few seconds to process what you did before smirks ever so slightly.

"looks like you read my mind, sweetheart," jeonghan declares, his voice laced with amusement as he leans in, wasting no time in capturing your lips in another kiss, his hands slowly finding your waist as he holds you. his touch is electric as his hand soon finds its way to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss.

he pulls away but you chase after his lips again, kissing him eagerly and you can feel the warmth of his smile against your lips as he softly kisses you back, indulging you, until you finally pull back, breathless.

"for someone who claims to hate me and calls me annoying, you seem to be enjoying this," jeonghan teases, his words causing a flush to rise to your cheeks. you decide to just shut him up by kissing him again, pressing your lips to his.

lost in the moment, you both find yourselves momentarily forgetting about the world around you for a few more minutes...

taglist: @biboramp3 @naaaaafla @weird-bookworm @icyminghao @blue-jisungs @wootify @n4mj00nvq @itsveronicaxxx @fallingforshua29 @joshuaahong @frankenstein852 @lvlystars @mirxzii @wheeboo @fairyhaos @kikohao @rubywonu @odxrilove @writingmeraki @asasilentreader @kwonshiho @belladaises @graybaeismytae @mykpopficblog @seunghancore @emotionalsupportbrat @moodays @avaaahuang @foxinnie8 @wonvsmile

#skye's 4k event! #seventeen as romantic tropes by skye! #caratlibrary #k labels #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen drabbles #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan scenarios #svt fluff #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt drabbles #svt x reader

[hannieehaee]

raindrops (an angel cried) (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: being assigned watching duties over humans was usually a task reserved for high level angels. on jeonghan's first week of promotion, he finds himself far too curious about licentious human activities, becoming infatuated with his assigned human. what happens when his interest goes too far, it gets him kicked out of heaven?

content: fallenangel!jeonghan, jeonghan is your guardian angel up until he gets kicked out of heaven oops, infatuation, inexperienced jeonghan, even as an angel he's still a menace to all, heaven is super strict, afab reader, smut, oral (m receiving), mentions of masturbation, penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 936 (teaser); 11.1k (full fic)

release date: may 17th

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: angel!jeonghan was a must so here it is

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Who is that?", asked Jeonghan, apprehension in his eyes.

"That's your human."

"My human? I'm getting a promotion?"

"Listen, Jeonghan. I had to call in a lot of favors to get the higher ups to let you get this promotion. You better follow the rules to the letter. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Kwannie, I know," he rolled his eyes, "Why do you have so little trust in me?"

"I'm serious, Jeonghan. If you keep messing up, you might get kicked out of heaven. Do you really want to be down there with the humans? Being a mortal?"

Jeonghan couldn't help but think the idea sounded enticing.

He hadn't had too much exposure to humans thus far, but he had always had great interest in them. They just sounded so free and different from one another, unlike in heaven, where specific behavior was to be expected from every working angel.

Within heaven, you were either born as an elite sort of angel, – with all their angelic duties assigned – or you were born human and then admitted into heaven as an angel, getting to enjoy eternal happiness with your loved ones. Jeonghan, sadly, was the former. Having been born into an angel position, it meant that although his life was not miserable by any means, it was just a closed box of responsibilities to fulfill until the end of eternity. He truly envied all the humans-turned-angels in heaven, often asking them about their memories as humans and trying to live vicariously through them.

Due to his constant curiosity of humans, Jeonghan often got in trouble as he stuck his nose in places it shouldn't be. As an angelic being, Jeonghan's duties as an angel were mostly clerical, managing which human each angel would be assigned to as a guardian angel. Ever since being born as an angelic entity, Jeonghan's dream had been to be promoted into a guardian angel position. In his current job, the most interaction with humans he ever got was the ability to see a quick overview of their timelines in order to assess which guardian angel would be the best fit for them. His job was comfortable and stable, never causing him any trouble. But he wanted more. He wanted to be down there, on the playing field as he watched over his own human.

So he would cheat occasionally, maybe snooping into human's lives for more than he was allowed to. Sometimes he'd pause on certain bits that drew a little curiosity and simply observe. He'd also on occasion tried to make his way down to Earth, only to check things out on his own. All his attempts were always met with reprimands from his higher ups, claiming that a soul as curious as his own should not be near humans. The existence of angels was meant to stay a myth, after all.

When Seungkwan took him into one of the offices designated for guardian angels, Jeonghan had been shocked. He had been banned from being brought here a few years back, so it was a very well appreciated change of pace for him. What was even more shocking, however, was when Seungkwan led him into one of the sphere rooms, which contained a view of any and every human in existence in real time. The most shocking thing, though? The pretty girl reflecting on the globe, very deep in slumber as Seungkwan revealed Jeonghan's promotion.

"Her old guardian angel retired. Chose to move to the land of humans-turned-angels. Angel Jihoon was simply going to ask you to assign her a new angel, but I put in a good word for you, so he gave you the job. Don't fuck it up, Jeonghan. Do you understand?", his friend was quite stern as he warned him.

"Big words for an angel."

"Don't go puritanical on me, Jeonghan. Your behavior in Heaven doesn't matter. It's when you meddle with humans that you'll get in trouble. Just ... Please follow the rules and don't step out of line."

Seungkwan was right. From all the accounts he heard from angels who had died and gone to heaven, Heaven and Earth were quite similar. People held jobs, lived a day to day life, had relationships. There were a few stark differences, though. There was no suffering in Heaven – no illness, no tiredness, no debilitating feelings. Sure, frustration and annoyance were a thing (God knew Jeonghan had felt those things), but it was virtually impossible to be truly unhappy in Heaven.

Jeonghan had no problem with Heaven, he was just far too curious about humans to stay still and do nothing. He was not allowed to admit it, but he had always wanted to know what it'd be like to be human. To live through pain, struggle, confusion. He just wanted to experience it all.

Angels had no needs in heaven. Hunger didn't exist, neither did aging or an itch to do or feel things humans usually engaged in. For instance, while Jeonghan had heard of sex and romantic relationships, this was something that angels did not have the innate desire to feel, as they were born fulfilled in every sense. Human-born angels, however, brought their humanly experiences and emotions along with them to heaven, sometimes telling tales of such things, always drawing Jeonghan's curiosity to new heights.

Looking at you through the sphere, Jeonghan felt excitement at thinking of what humanly emotions you may be feeling. He also felt giddy at knowing that you would one day come to pass onto his heavenly realm, where he would meet you after having known you for the entirety of your lifetime.

...

read today on ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one<3

NOTE: comment if u'd like to be tagged when it comes out<3 i wont respond to comments but if u reply ill tag u<3

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen #svt #seventeen oneshot #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt oneshot #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #jeonghan #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan fanfic #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan smut #jeonghan scenarios

[cherryredcheol]

"lovie"

tldr: all the ways jeonghan uses your nickname a/n: but mom, i love him. (there is a makeout scene in this...)

pesters: but only in good fun

“lovie,” he coos at you, encouraged by the blush on your cheeks. he could tell by the look in your eyes, you were embarrassed but not upset. you hadn’t thought anything of it when he suggested you wear the green hoodie in your closet to visit him and the members in the practice room. 

“need to let everyone know we’re together?” he couldn’t help but poke fun at you as you walked into the room wearing a matching hoodie to his. you had no knowledge he had even worn the offending garment today. if you had, you wouldn’t be in yours, especially not in front of his members and their staff.  

“i’m pretty sure everyone already knows.” his teasing didn’t let up, even as he wrapped his arms around you, pleased to see you had fallen right into his trap. you faintly heard joshua scoff somewhere behind you, too focused on the man in front of you to really give him any attention, “you guys are gross.” 

whispers: when he wants to check in

“lovie,” his whisper pulls you from your thoughts. “i don’t think that pork will come back to life no matter how hard you stare at it. mingyu grilled it really well.” you rolled your eyes but turned to look at him nonetheless. he looked awfully handsome under the dim light of the bbq restaurant. he always looked handsome, you supposed. 

“are you okay?” he was still whispering. wanted to keep this moment as private as possible so you could speak freely. he knew dinner with his members could be a lot, especially after a long day at work. 

“you can tell me if you want to go. you know i’ll never pass up an opportunity to go home with you.” his eye dropped in a wink, and this time you smiled when you rolled your eyes. going home with him did kind of sound like a good idea…

breathes: in between kisses

“lovie,” it escapes him like a sigh, slipping out between you two in a heated moment. you were on his lap, completely blocking his view of the tv, and in the back of his mind he knows he wanted to see this one but he couldn’t bring himself to care. not with the way he is consumed with the feeling of your weight pressing on him, your warmth almost burning his skin even through layers of clothes. 

when you pull back and look at him, he swears he feels his heart skip a beat. face oily and bare from the skin care you had completed before joining him on the couch for movie night, he’s never thought you more beautiful. he can feel your lip balm on and around his lips, a reminder you’d been there.

“whatever you’re doing, it’s working lovie,” he praises. “you’re practically glowing.” if he thought you were radiant before, you beamed under his praise. the last thing he saw before his eyes closed to continue kissing you was your toothy grin. 

giggles: behind cupped hands

“lovie,” he was snickering when he pulled you into a secluded corner of seungchoel’s apartment. game night was in full swing and you had just started the third round of mafia. while the rest of the members were distracted by mingyu and soonyoung’s bickering, jeonghan whisked you away, his mischievous smirk on his face. 

“can you keep a secret?” he was talking in hushed tones, hiding his mouth behind his hands to avoid prying eyes. when you nodded in confirmation, he leaned impossibly closer, breath tickling your ear. 

“i’m the mafia.” it took everything in you to keep your face neutral. you didn’t want to blow him in after he spilled such a big secret. it warmed your heart that he trusted you enough to tell you his role in the game. “if you tell anyone, i’ll kill you next.” 

scrawls: on a post-it

“lovie,” the note brought heat to your cheeks. you really hoped your coworker at the desk across from yours didn’t notice. when had he even slipped this in? you packed your own lunch and he wasn’t even awake when you left for your shift this morning, still snuggled beneath your comforter when you pulled your shoes on and headed out the door. 

“i miss you. hope you’re having a good day!” his neat handwriting brought a smile to your face. this wasn’t the first time he had snuck a note into your lunchbox, but he didn’t do it often so this was really a treat. and on a friday, too! what a great way to end the week. 

“i can’t wait to spend the weekend with you.” you shared the sentiment. looking forward to a free weekend with no plans or schedules. free to rot in your bed for the next two days with your beloved. “love you!” 

#seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #svt #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt imagines #svt fluff #jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan scenarios #yoon jeonghan

[sluttywoozi]

Take Trouble, Make It Double

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~4.7k | Pairing: csc x f!reader x yjh | Genre: smut, threesome, romance, college au, frat bros!cheol and jeonghan

Summary: It’s not every day you get to fuck your campus crush and your no longer ex-boyfriend, and you’re going to make the most of it. 

Warnings: mention of alcohol, threesome, petnames (good girl, angel, sweetheart, baby), biting/marking, fingering, multiple orgasms, double penetration in one hole, double creampie, cheol doesn’t have abs, implied poly ending

Reader Notes: has a vagina and breasts, referred to as a girl, in a sorority, cums easily, gets lifted by cheol

Shit, you are not drunk enough for a frat party of this magnitude.

Unfortunately, considering that you’re volunteering early tomorrow and it would be hell if you were hungover, you don’t think you’ll drink anymore. Guys won’t stop asking if they can get you another drink and you’re getting tired of saying no, so you decide to head to the kitchen to refill your cup with soda. That should get them off your back, and you need a bit of an energy boost to withstand this party. You’re crossing the crowded living room to get to the kitchen when you spot Jeonghan and feel your heart stop. 

Fuck, you’re in trouble. 

You slept with him a week ago, and tonight, you were thinking of trying to hook up with him again. 

It was… transcendental for you, and you hope it was just as good for him. You wouldn’t know, because he never called. Sure, he doesn’t have your number, but considering your sorority house is neighboring his frat house, it wouldn’t have been hard for him to obtain it. If he wanted to, that is. 

You can only assume he didn’t, which puts a bit of a dent in your plans (and in your heart). You look away from him quickly, walking faster when you notice him push off of the wall he’s leaning against, his eyes on you and his mouth open like he’s about to call out your name. 

You enter the oddly empty kitchen before he can, and you’re in the process of digging through the cooler for a bottle of coke when he appears next to you. You feel him before you see him, one of his hands touching your elbow and offering you a soda from the fridge. How he knew what you wanted, you don’t know. 

“Hey,” he breathes, looking at you with slightly apprehensive eyes, like he’s not sure how he’ll be received. 

You take in a deep breath and force a smile, trying to appear unaffected. “Hey, Jeonghan.”

“I’m glad you’re here, I’ve really been wanting to talk to you,” he says, his hand slipping down from your elbow to tangle his fingers with yours. 

“I live right next door,” you remind him, pulling away to open the bottle and turning from him to fill your cup. 

Out of your view, he bites his lip, cringing at the little bit of hurt that seeps through your mask. 

“I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t reach out. There are… reasons. But still, you didn’t deserve that.”

“Can you tell me the reasons?” You ask curiously, already having accepted his apology in your mind. He sounded sincere, and fuck, you still want him. 

“They involve someone else, and I don’t want to-”

“He didn’t ask you out because I told him I wanted to,” a voice sounds from the doorway, making you jump and look over. 

Your eyes widen when you see who the voice belongs to, your heart pounding at the sight of Seungcheol. You dated in freshman year and he was your first real love, and when he broke up with you, you were devastated. 

He said he was too busy between the fraternity and rugby practice and classes, and while you believed him, you knew that no matter how busy you were, you’d still want to be with him. You’ve managed to avoid him till now, always going to different frats for parties and tailgates, until last week, of course. 

Some of your younger sisters begged you to go, saying they were scared to attend without you, and your protective side kicked in much to your detriment. 

Because at that party, you met Jeonghan, and slept with someone for the first time since Seungcheol, who wasn’t in attendance (thank fucking God). 

You don’t know how to respond, too many thoughts swirling around your head to make sense of anything. You obviously knew they were brothers, but you didn’t realize they were close or you wouldn’t have agreed to go to Jeonghan’s room. 

Jeonghan must not have known you’re Cheol’s ex; if he did, you doubt he would have asked you in the first place. And now apparently Seungcheol wants you again, but Jeonghan wants you too? 

Are you supposed to choose between them or…? 

You always said you’d never take Seungcheol back after he hurt you like that, but now you’re reconsidering. Because he’s here before you, and you still love him like you used to. 

There are still your growing feelings for Jeonghan to consider though, and suddenly being in this empty kitchen with just the two of them is stifling. 

Seungcheol can read you still, comes closer to you on steady feet with sincere eyes, and says, “I never should have broken up with you. I should have held onto you and never let go, but I didn’t, and now it’s probably too late. It would be selfish of me to ask you out now, when I know my best friend could treat you better than I ever did.”

He sounds resigned, and you look to Jeonghan, who’s staring at him with a grateful, melancholy gaze. The ache in your chest is so sharp, your eyes water, and you look back and forth between them hopelessly. 

“I guess I can’t have you both, can I?” You murmur, slumping against the counter and crossing your arms to hold yourself together. 

Their gazes snap to each other and they communicate soundlessly, with gestures and eyebrows and widening eyes, before turning to you and saying, “What if you could?”

You weave through the dancing, drunk crowd, one of your hands caught in Jeonghan’s and the other held by Seungcheol. Your heart is racing and your panties are wet, but you’re doing your absolute best to seem unaffected by the idea of what you’re about to do.

It’s a bit nerve wracking, the concept of two men at once, but you’ve been through sorority recruitment in the blazing heat so you’re pretty sure you can handle anything. 

Some of your sisters would disapprove of this but most would be cheering you on, and through the flashing lights and writhing bodies, you spot your best friend giving you a wide smile and a thumbs up. That’s enough to bolster you, and you hold your head high as you follow Jeonghan to the room he apparently shares with Seungcheol. 

Jeonghan opens the door and ushers you inside, waiting for Seungcheol to cross the threshold and entering behind him, closing the door with a resounding click and muffling the roaring party. 

They close in on you quickly, one set of hands pulling your top off and the other unbuttoning and tugging down your jeans, leaving you standing in your bra and underwear between them. You can feel Seungcheol’s breath on the back of your neck as he leans in to lay kisses along the line of your shoulder, and Jeonghan gives you an easy grin before cupping your face and drawing you into an open mouthed kiss. 

They both know how you like to be touched, and they don’t hesitate to use that knowledge to their advantage. Seungcheol’s hand slides over your stomach and slips into your panties, his fingers gliding through your folds with how wet you already are. He presses his smug grin into your throat, whispers, “Want us that badly, huh?”

You flush from head to toe, suddenly shy, and gasp into Jeonghan’s mouth when Seungcheol finds your clit. He rubs it with the pads of his fingers slowly, gently, knowing you need some time to adjust to the sensation of someone else touching you. 

Jeonghan unclasps your bra with practiced fingers, pulling it down your arms and off before covering your tits with his soft hands. He squeezes them, brushes his thumbs back and forth over your nipples until they’re hard, until you’re pressing your chest into his hands. 

Seungcheol is still rubbing your clit, but his circles are firmer now, more insistent, and you just know he’s going to make you cum like this, know they’re going to make you cum like this. 

They work together to work you up, two of Seungcheol’s fingers sinking into you as Jeonghan breaks the kiss and leans down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. When Seungcheol’s fingertips curl into the patch of nerves inside you, you let out a rough gasp, wilting against his chest as his thumb presses into your clit. 

Jeonghan just breathes a soft laugh, following you and grasping one of your hips with his free hand to hold you steady, to hold you still as you start to climb that mountain. You’re already throbbing, already clenching around Seungcheol’s fingers, and when he starts to fuck you with them, you feel yourself get even wetter. He adds a third and hooks them all into your g-spot as he digs his hips into you, the feeling of his hard cock making you hotter. 

His thumb catches your clit at just the right angle and you start to flutter around his fingers, your pussy locking down on them as Jeonghan bites a stinging mark into the side of your breast. You whimper weakly, resting more of your weight on Seungcheol and knowing he can take it as you break apart between them. 

“There we go, good girl,” Seungcheol murmurs roughly into your neck, one strong arm banding around your waist to hold you to him as you shake and whine and squeeze his fingers. Jeonghan pulls away from your tits to find your lips again, swallowing your sounds and sucking at your tongue as he presses his hard dick against you, moaning lowly into your mouth. 

A shiver wracks through you when Seungcheol grinds his fingers into your g-spot again, before you’ve come down from the first orgasm. You remember how many times he used to make you cum when you were together and swallow nervously, attempting to prepare yourself for his particular brand of overstimulation. 

Jeonghan, on the other hand, ate you out so gently for so long, it’s like you had one continuous, never ending, nearly lethal orgasm. It’ll be interesting to see how their styles combine, and as Seungcheol brings you right back to the edge, you vow to yourself that you’ll take whatever they give you. 

It’s not every day you get to fuck your campus crush and your no longer ex-boyfriend, and you’re going to make the most of it. 

Which means that when Seungcheol whispers, “Again, I want you to cum again,” and Jeonghan mumbles, “C’mon, sweetheart, cum for us,” you listen. Your cunt clamps down and your back arches and your voice wavers as you fall to pieces again.

It’s scary almost, how they can make you cum on command, but you revel in it too, revel in the fact that they know you that well. That with just a few words, they can push you over the edge. 

And hell, you revel in the fact that they want to push you over the edge, that they want you. 

It makes you so wet, you can hear Seungcheol fucking you with his fingers, slick sounds and squelches following every thrust and curl. You know they can hear it too and your cheeks heat, though you’re pretty sure they like it if their labored breathing and hard dicks say anything. 

You’re starting to get sensitive but you won’t stop him, not when Jeonghan slides his hand under Seungcheol’s and knocks his thumb away from your clit so he can swirl circles with his soft fingertips. The stark difference in how they touch you is exhilarating, Seungcheol’s rough fingers inside you combined with Jeonghan’s gentle touch making you cry out. 

You can barely hold yourself up but Seungcheol is strong enough to keep you standing, even as your knees weaken and you slump back against him. Jeonghan doesn’t follow you this time, just keeps circling your clit and watches as you shake and moan and gush for them, a slight smirk curling his lips as he slips his hand down and works two of his slim fingers inside you alongside Seungcheol’s thick three. 

The fullness is more than anything you’ve ever felt. It takes your breath away, saps every last bit of strength from you until their hands on you (and in you) are the only things holding you up. You can’t even make a sound, you’re so overwhelmed, and Jeonghan takes a second to lean in close and ask, “You okay, angel? Is it too much?” 

You can only shake your head, your eyes squeezed shut and your chest heaving as you gasp for air. He starts to pull his fingers out and your hand flies to his wrist, keeping his hand from drawing away. You realize he thinks you were answering the first question, and you force out, “I’m okay. S’not too much.”

He exhales in relief, sinking his fingers back in and saying, “What if we fucked you like this? Both of us in this sweet little cunt. Would you like that, angel?”

“Do you think you could take it?” Seungcheol chimes in, sounding worried and doubtful, as if they’re not currently five fucking fingers deep. 

The words are flowing out of your mouth before you’ve even finished thinking about it. 

“Yes, I can, I want it so fucking bad. Please, I want you both inside of me,” you whimper, one hand clutching Jeonghan’s wrist and the other gripping Seungcheol’s forearm to keep them close to you, though you know they’ll have to pull away if you want their dicks. 

“If you’re sure, sweetheart,” Seungcheol whispers into your throat before pressing a tender kiss to your sensitive skin, his plump lips whisper soft against you. 

“I’m sure,” you whine as you force yourself to let go of their arms, allowing them to withdraw from you. They carry lead you over to one of their twin beds, and for the first time tonight, they seem a little bashful. 

“Sorry it’s so small, the guys would riot if we got double beds and they got singles,” Seungcheol grimaces, helping you take your panties off and lay down before tugging off his shirt. Jeonghan follows suit and you sigh dreamily, watching as they reveal more and more skin. You’re rubbing your legs together by the time they’re done, your eyes darting between them so you can get your fill of both. 

Seungcheol’s cock is long, thick, with veins wrapped around the length like vines, and Jeonghan’s is slightly longer, just a bit slimmer, and curved up. Immediately, you know you want to keep Jeonghan in the front, your pussy aching at the memory of the way he could grind the head of his cock into your g-spot. You like feeling Seungcheol’s buff body behind you anyway, like feeling his firm muscles and his soft tummy and his thick thighs, so this really is the best of both worlds. 

They smile like they know what you’re thinking, and you start to wonder if they do when they join you on the bed and begin maneuvering you. Seungcheol pulls you up by the hands and to the edge of the bed so Jeonghan can lay down in your place, and you feel their hands steady you as you climb astride him, Seungcheol following you. 

Jeonghan lets go to hold his cock in place for you, guiding it to your entrance and watching as you sink down onto him. He lets out a shuddering breath, his eyelids fluttering and his mouth opening on a low moan at the sensation of your hot, wet cunt enveloping his cock. You’re similarly affected, the perfect curve of his dick making your eyes water and your pussy clench. 

“You should be stretched out enough to take me too, but I think Jeonghan should fuck you first just to make sure. Not for too long though, I need you so fucking bad,” Seungcheol says, his voice rough and his hands tight on your hips. He must sense your inability to move, because he does the moving for you, lifting you nearly off Jeonghan’s cock and letting you fall back down as Jeonghan thrusts up. 

A punched out moan escapes your parted lips at the feeling of their hands on you, of Jeonghan filling you, of Seungcheol moving you like a doll. You think about having both of them at the same time, and know you just can’t wait. 

“Want you now, Cheol,” you gasp, reaching back to find his hip and attempting to pull him to you, though he’s too strong for you to move him much. 

“Baby, I don’t know, I don’t want to hurt you,” he’s obviously hesitant, and you don’t want to push him past his comfort levels but fuck, you want him so bad. 

“I can take it, Cheol, I can take you, I promise,” you gasp, already on the verge of begging and nearly on the verge of tears too. “Please, you’ve made me wait long enough.”

That’s the final nail in the coffin, and Seungcheol sighs with resignation as he takes hold of his dick and guides it between your legs. “Okay, sweetheart, okay, but if it’s too much, all you have to do is tell us.”

You nod fervently and lean down, draping yourself over Jeonghan so Seungcheol has a better angle. You can hear the deep breath he takes before he hooks one finger inside you alongside Jeonghan’s cock, then two fingers, then three, before pulling them out and finally replacing them with his dick. 

When he starts to push inside, the sensation steals every last molecule of oxygen in your lungs, leaving you entirely breathless. It’s a good thing you’re resting on Jeonghan’s chest because you’re dizzy, lightheaded, dazed at the stretch you feel. 

Seungcheol goes so slowly you’ve regained your breath by the time he’s fully inside of you, though your chest still feels tight with your pussy at its absolute limit.  

It occurs to you that you’ll never take more than this, that this is the fullest you’ve ever been, ever will be, and you feel a rush of arousal gather around the bases of their cocks, your cunt too tight for much to escape. Seungcheol and Jeonghan have been grunting and groaning with pleasure (or restraint), but when you flood them and squeeze them, they both let out the most delicious whimpers. 

“Are you-” 

“Yes, move,” you moan, not even registering who asked you, your eyes clenched shut and your thighs trembling as you wait. 

Jeonghan moves first, shoving just a bit deeper inside of you before pulling his hips back and sliding in again. You’re wet enough his dick glides against Seungcheol’s, and when he starts to fuck you too, you find yourself in a state of ecstasy so sharp, it nearly hurts. They take a few thrusts to find their rhythm, but eventually they do, and it’s almost more than you can take. 

You’ll never ask them to stop though, never want them to stop. You just need them to fuck you like this forever, fuck you and fill you and keep you. Because you want to be kept by them, and you want them to want to keep you. 

You can’t stop whimpering, your moans blending together until they’re endless, dotted by gasps and sharp cries. Seungcheol and Jeonghan are making noise too, and if you were lucid enough, you’d hope the music outside is loud enough to cover the obvious sounds of sex. 

As it is, you can only lay there and feel each impact of Seungcheol’s and Jeonghan’s hips against yours, every thrust from Seungcheol pushing you into Jeonghan and every thrust from Jeonghan pushing you into Seungcheol. Until Seungcheol wraps his arms around your neck and waist and pulls you up into his body. 

The change in angle makes you cry out, as does the big hand he places on your throat. He doesn’t squeeze, just leaves it there like he knows you like as he and Jeonghan begin moving in unison. Seungcheol holds you in place so they can thrust up into you, and the feeling of them filling you together is somehow even better than them alternating. 

Jeonghan’s eyes trail over your body, his hands following them down down down until one catches on your hip and the other slips between your thighs. When his delicate fingers find your swollen, sensitive clit, you yelp, your hips jolting into them and away as he rubs steady, insistent circles. 

He must be getting close if he’s trying to make you cum, and you can tell by Seungcheol’s sounds and leaking dick that he’s getting close too. You’re almost scared of it, scared of the tidal wave of pleasure that will overtake you when it’s already almost too much, but you know that if they want you to break for them, you will. 

Seungcheol starts sucking marks into the side of your neck, and Jeonghan forces out in a trembling voice, “You gonna cum for us again, angel? Last one, I promise. Just be good for us one last time, please.” 

“Cum, sweetheart, I know you can,” Seungcheol encourages you through gritted teeth. 

And God, you want to be good for them, you want to be Jeonghan’s angel and Seungcheol’s sweetheart, so when you feel it start to build up deep inside, you don’t fight it. You let the stinging bliss coil tighter and tighter in your belly until it shatters, taking you apart at the seams. Your walls clamp down and you nearly force them from you, but they thrust in deep and stay as you cum so hard, you lose all sense of time and space and matter. 

The only tethers you have to this plane of existence are Seungcheol and Jeonghan, and they hold you up and hold you together as you try to swim through the stars in your eyes. You force yourself to wake up when you hear the tell-tale noises of their approaching highs, wanting to be fully present for the moment they fill you. 

Jeonghan and Seungcheol are the only men you’ve ever let cum inside you, and you can’t wait to feel that again, to feel them again. It’ll be different this time, you know, will probably alter your brain chemistry and the trajectory of your life, but you’re ready. 

“Cum for me, I want to feel you both filling me up, please,” you whine, nearly shaking in Seungcheol’s arms out of anticipation. Jeonghan’s face crumples in pleasure, Seungcheol lets out the hottest little whimper you’ve ever heard, and they break together, flooding you with so much cum, you think you’ll burst. 

Their hands grip you tight but you don’t care, wouldn’t mind waking tomorrow to sore spots and lingering reminders of the night you shared with them, of probably the best night of your life. Seungcheol’s hand drops from your neck to wrap around your waist, pulling you into a sweet, soft hug before letting go and slowly lowering you back onto Jeonghan’s chest. 

Jeonghan’s smile is dazed, satiated, satisfied, and he drops it to pout at you expectantly, his eyes hazy and his hand gentling on your hip. You lean in and press your lips to his, humming into his mouth when he swipes his tongue over your bottom lip. He doesn’t deepen the kiss much, eventually tapering off into little pecks and smooches that he dots all over your face. 

“Ready for us to pull out?” Seungcheol asks gently, rubbing your back with his big, rugby-rough hands. 

You nod and breathe, “Go one at a time, please,” bracing yourself for the approaching emptiness and attempting to push off the thoughts and fears of what will happen after this. 

Seungcheol withdraws first, pulling his hips from yours and dragging his softening cock out of your still fluttering pussy before climbing off the bed and heading to his closet. It’s almost odd to just feel Jeonghan inside of you, and you know it’ll feel even weirder not to feel either of them. You’ll just be you again, not you and Seungcheol and Jeonghan, and you can’t say you’re excited. 

It must show on your face because Jeonghan cups your cheeks, presses a quick kiss to your lips, and whispers, “Everything will be okay, I promise.” 

“So do I,” Seungcheol murmurs as he approaches with a towel in hand. 

He holds your hips up so Jeonghan can pull out, a surge of cum following his exit now that there’s nothing keeping it inside. Seungcheol catches it with the towel, wiping at your thighs and dabbing gently at your stretched, sore pussy. 

Jeonghan passes a hand over your hair and waits until you’re as clean as you can get before tilting to the side and carefully sliding out from under you, disappearing from view. You try not to feel lonely without them in bed with you, try to remind yourself that there’s no way this could work, try to steel yourself as you imagine stumbling out of their door and making your way through the party back to your own house. 

You hope they’ll walk you home at least, maybe give you a kiss goodbye before never calling you again, just like before. 

Jeonghan returns clothed in pajamas with a bottle of water from their mini fridge, cracking it open and handing it to you with waiting eyes. You take a sip and he grins, so you take another, realizing how parched you are and practically gulping the whole thing down in one go. 

“Good girl,” he says, taking the empty bottle from you and smirking at the way your eyes snap to his. “What? I wanted to try it out too. Did you like it?” 

“Yes,” you answer honestly, both because you don’t see a point in lying and because you’re loosened up from however many orgasms they gave you. 

“Good,” he smiles easily, leaning down to kiss you softly. “I like it too.”

Seungcheol sits heavily on the bed next to you, dressed in boxers and a shirt you recognize as one you bought for him, a band tee that’s just a bit too big on him. It’s much thinner than you remember, worn in the shoulders and holey along the hem, and it makes you smile to think he’s been wearing it all this time. 

“We have a lot to talk about, a lot to figure out, but I think for now, we should just push the beds together and go the fuck to sleep,” he suggests tiredly, taking your hand in both of his and giving it a loving squeeze. 

Jeonghan nods and points to a door, “We do have our own bathroom, so you can take a shower while we rearrange the room, angel.” 

They want you to… stay? The party seems to be dying down, it would be easy enough for them to slip you out without too many eyes, but it seems that thought hasn’t even crossed their minds. You try to contain the beam but it stretches your lips anyway, a rush of giddiness giving you enough energy to stand on your shaky legs and start to limp over to the bathroom. 

They stand with you, Jeonghan speeding ahead to turn the shower on and Seungcheol reaching out to open the door for you, pressing his warm hand to your lower back as you pass him. Jeonghan presses a kiss to your lips and hands you a towel, reaching his hand into the shower stall and saying, “Should be warm enough for you. We’ll see you soon?” 

You smile a watery smile and respond, “See you soon,” as he exits the bathroom, leaving you with Seungcheol. He brings you into another hug, swaying you like he used to and pressing a kiss to your hair before reluctantly letting you go, holding his hand out to steady you as you climb into the shower. The corners of his mouth quirk up fondly when you refuse to let go, and he pulls your hand up to his mouth to kiss the back of it. 

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll be waiting for you. We’ll be waiting for you.” 

He seals his promise with one last kiss before tugging the shower curtain between you and padding away on quiet feet. 

Somehow, you really do think everything will be okay.

AN: this was suggested by an anon and i am eternally grateful bc woooie do i love frat/college aus and jeongcheol

Please reblog if you enjoyed! I love to hear your thoughts!

how i picture the morning after if you're curious

My Masterlist

#svthub #k vanity #scoups smut #scoups x reader #scoups imagines #scoups fanfic #choi seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol smut #choi seungcheol imagines #choi seungcheol x you #jeonghan fanfic #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan smut #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan scenarios #seventeen fic #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt smut #svt imagines #svt x reader #✨emily writes✨

[hoasvuon]

(12:31 AM)

jeonghan never used to understand why anyone would want to leave the house after 11 pm. after all, his days were so long and all he wanted to do after work was lay down, drown himself under a pile of blankets, and go straight to bed.

plus, eating so late at night meant his body would have to spend even more time to digest the food late at night, and he would have to wake up bloated and still half full. which meant that often times, he would skip dinner, opting simply to crawl into his bed and rot away until the next day. i'll just deal with it tomorrow by eating extra well at breakfast and lunch, he'd always tell himself.

that is, before he met you.

now his nights were filled of random adventures, running with you to the local convenience store to grab kimbap and ice cream, or to the stand down the street that sold udon noodles at nearly all hours (hannie try some it's so good!).

and tonight was one of those lucky nights. around 12 am, jeonghan woke up to you softly tugging on his sleeve. still half asleep, he simply pulled you in closer and tucked your head into his chest before kissing the top of your head.

"what's wrong baby", he mumured, lips still planted on your head.

"hannie ... on a scale of 1 to 10 ... how mad would you be if i told you i wanted kbbq" you whispered.

finally opening his eyes, he saw you staring up at him, eyes wide with a small, hopeful smile on your face.

"negative 1, you know i'm always down for whatever you want" he replied.

you shot up in bed, clapping your hands quietly. "oh i'm so excited! i was worried you'd be mad, or worse, not want to go! ok let me grab my hoodie and we can go, ok?" you said hurriedly.

jeonghan looked at you from the bed as you flurried around the room to find a hoodie to take, smiling fondly. after all, he could never get mad at you for anything, especially not for your random late night food cravings.

tonight you wanted korean barbecue. that meant he could sit flush next to you, blaming his clinginess on the fact that it was so late and he was still sleepy. you'd definitely feed him, feeling guilty for dragging him out of bed. and then he could leave soft kisses on your cheeks as 'thank you's when you remembered to order some fried rice at the end, his favorite.

and no matter how many times you would apologize as you walked back home, clock striking nearly two or three in the morning, all he could see is your face, lit up in front of him and he'd tell himself he would do it all over again just to see you smile. especially when that meant he was able to see you in his hoodie (you always seemed to "not be able" to find yours in time to leave), head burrowed into his side as pulled the covers over the both of you, eyes twinkling at him, murmuring soft praises that he 'finally ate well for once'. plus, in the middle of the night, it meant that he could hold you extra. tight against his body, excusing it to the fact that his body hadn't yet adjusted from the cold temperature outside.

"i love you" you'd say softly, before falling asleep.

i love you too

#svt drabble #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt x reader #svt #seventeen soft hours #seventeen kpop #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan svt #svt jeonghan

[luviestarz]

yoon jeonghan fic recs!

✧ such a flirt ! - @amateurasterism (it’s simple: jeonghan knows he’s a flirt, but didn’t realize you flirting back was the key to breaking him.)

✧ deeper in denial ! - @amateurasterism (if there’s one thing you know about jeonghan, it’s that he’s a tease. what happens when the teasing makes it to soonyoung’s game of spin the bottle?)

✧ MON ANGE ! - @itadorins

✧ KIDULT - @hvae (jeonghan always believed he was never fond of children, especially when he took the job at your daycare. little did he know the child in him was playing hide and seek, finally revealing itself after growing to love the kids. oh, and you too)

✧ mirror mirror - @cheolism (jeonghan asks to roleplay him being jealous and fucks you like the little desperate slut you are)

✧ It's Nice To Have A Friend | yjh x reader - @sluttywoozi (You and Jeonghan have embarked on your fifth annual Best Friends trip, but it's a bit different than usual, considering he made the reservation under Yoon Y/N and told them he was your husband. What's a honeymoon between friends anyway?)

✧ a little attention - @onlymingyus

✧ MY ATTENTION - @slytherinshua

✧ when jeonghan realizes he's in love with you - @wonwoonlight

✧ 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐍𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐘 ♥︎ - yoon jeonghan ! - @hoshzone (not being able to wait until Jeonghan gets off the phone with Joshua, you decide it’d be a good idea to get yourself off on his thigh. He makes sure you pay for that.)

✧ call me by his name | yoon jeonghan [M] - @sweetlemontart (to you, one of jeonghan's most admirable trait is his candid nature. he's straightforward with most people—if he's angry, they'll definitely know. but with you? he'd rather swim the ocean day and night than take his anger out on you. well, that is, of course, unless you ask him to.)

✧ to live again | yoon jeonghan - @viastro (it’s been years since your last milestone birthday; a time when everything still felt right in the world with youth and ambition. now that you’re older and times have changed, would you dare take a chance to save someone else in the past at the cost of your own future?)

✧ 彡 my heart is beating for two. — yoon jeonghan - @seuonji (daycare worker yn! x secretary jeonghan — you’re a worker at the daycare and of course, your main priority is the safety of the kids. how’d you deal with an unfamiliar face trying to pick up one of the kids one day?)

✧ the long way | yoon jeonghan - @trblsvt (it was just like any other shoot. go in, pose, drink water, don't get food on the clothes, and don't joke around with the staff. easy. except it wasn't that easy.)

✧ — ode to you  - @lovelyhan (if there's one thing you've learned from all the lives you've spent together, it's that jeonghan isn't always someone you'll end up wanting. he can be crass. he can be secretive. he can be nothing short of vexing. but in the end, he's everything you need him to be.)

✧ rain and kisses | yoon jeonghan - @babyleostuff

✧ sharing is caring - yoon jeonghan - @etherealyoungk

✧ lowkey — yoon jeonghan - @chenfleur (Jeonghan's supposed to be on stage in twenty minutes, and he's nowhere to be found.)

✧ our dawn is hotter than day. - @ikigaisvt (in which you and your boyfriend says i love you for the first time surrounded by his friends.)

#jeonghan smut #svt smut #jeonghan angst #jeonghan fic #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan fluff #yoon jeonghan smut #jeonghan #jeonghan series #seventeen au #seventeen angst #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen fic rec #seventeen fic recs #jeonghan recs #jeonghan fic recs #svt fic recs #fic recs #seventeen smut #seventeen recs #seventeen fics #seventeen oneshots #seventeen fluff

[duhnova]

sweater paws - yoon jeonghan

paring: virgin!jeonghan x semi-experienced!reader (gn & afab reader)

genre: smut, some fluff

word count: ~4.2k

synopsis: your soft and cuddly virgin boyfriend isn’t so soft and innocent when he wakes up in the middle of the night from a wet dream.

warning(s): smut under the cut (mdni!!!), established relationship, reader has breasts and a pussy, VERY slight mention of breeding, unprotected sex, cream pie, a little domestic, slight somnophilia (consensual), virgin jeonghan, multiple orgasms (jeonghan), overstimulation, drool, spit eating?, slight dacryphilia, cervical penetration (it’s not actual penetration of the cervix, it’s the term used if the cervix is being touched during sex and used to reach an orgasm.. please look it up if you're unfamiliar with this term), let me know if i forgot anything! - don’t mind grammatical errors or typos (i tried) (also please let me know if anything doesn't fall under gn/afab, i'm always nervous i mess something up)

“y/n..” jeonghan breathes in his sleep followed by a quiet moan. his body was getting warm as he tossed onto his back. “fuck.” he moans again, this time his eyes fluttering open. he gasps quietly at how tight his sleep pants feel, one of his hands traveling under the blanket to feel the hard bulge that felt like it grew more under his touch. 

whining quietly he bites at the sleeve of his sweater and rubs at the bulge, his cock twitching pathetically. he felt dirty touching himself like this when you were sleeping only a couple inches to his right. 

“i cant..” he pants quietly as he wills himself to stop rubbing his bulge. he closes his eyes to try and think of anything but the rushing blood to his cock but the only thing that came to his mind was the dream he had.

your plush thighs were quivering on either side of his as you rode his cock, tears welling in your eyes as you begged him to fuck you like he meant it. the way your moans echoed in his ears and your hands tangled in his hair had his hips bucking up, jostling you forward until you were leaning fully against his body - fully at his mercy as he found the confidence to grab your hips and thrust up into you. 

“god..” he shakes his head, hoping to shake the vivid dream from his mind. your warmth felt so real and the squeeze of your pussy around his cock felt heavenly - but it was just a dream, and he’s never actually felt the real thing. let alone does he even know how to properly thrust his hips if he was given the chance too - he could barely fuck his fist properly and even then the instance is rare as the only times he’s ever gotten hard enough to need help he’s already finishing before you could get his pants off. 

he rolls over into his side so he’s facing your back, you two had gotten into bed at two different times - him before you as you had some work to finish up. he studied the clothes you put on to sleep in, one of his hoodies and.. just your underwear. he felt his body heat up against as he sees the lace barely peeking out of the blanket that had fallen to your hips after his wild dream.

“y/n…” he whines again, timidly as he was scared to wake you up even though he really wanted you to wake up when he called your name. his finger twitches against the sheet where he rested his hand. he remembers the million of conversations you two have had, discussing possible kinks, likes and dislikes, boundaries - and amongst all the muddled memories he holds on to one.

‘somnophilia is where you can use me while i sleep and vice versa.. if you are comfortable with that.’

‘does that fall under free use?’

‘you keep asking about free use, i think you might be into that one a little more than you think hannie.’ 

the way you had giggled before explaining more about how free use and somnophilia go hand in hand and that you were more than ok with both made a chill run down jeonghan's spine.

he’s never had sex before, only experiencing heavy make out sessions with you that lead to you both being half naked before he was cumming in his pants - the stimulation of you grinding in his lap while your lips moved against his always pushed him over the edge. 

you shift in your sleep, a quiet whine leaving your lips as you shiver at the cold air nipping at the exposed flesh of your hips. jeonghan scoots closer to your body, very slow and careful as to not startle you in your sleep. every nerve in his body was on fire as he gasps as the feeling of his bulge neatly perfectly between your ass cheeks as he pushes his body up against your sleeping one. 

he hurries his face in your shoulder, biting at the hood of the sweatshirt you have on to stifle any of his moans as he grinds against your ass slowly. he has an arm thrown gently over your body, where his fingers slowly ghost down to the waistband of the hoodie. he freezes when you shift, whining at the coldness of his fingers meeting the warmth of your tiny - he could feel the goosebumps ruse as he trails his fingertips up towards your breasts. 

your nipple hardens almost instantly when he lays the palm of his cold hand on your breast and gives it a squeeze. it was soft and warm in his hand - drawing a moan from deep in his chest as he started to grind harder against your ass. 

“shit.” he whines a little loud before he bites onto the hoodie again, his fingers squeezing tighter at your tit. 

it was hard to tell what woke you up exactly, the muffled moans and whines coming from your boyfriend or the scratchy material of the sweater he was still wearing rubbing against the soft underside of your breast. 

“hannie?” you mumbles tiredly, your senses trying to come too as all you can feel is his warm body against yours. jeonghan freezes, or tries to at least, his hips have a mind of their own as they continue to grind and buck against your ass. 

“s-sorry, i’m sorry i-“

“do you need help, baby?” your voice was soft as you interrupted him, his voice shakey either from wanting to cry in guilt or pleasure.  

“yes,” he almost sobs as he starts to grind harder, more desperate. “i’m sorry, i-“

“it’s ok baby,” you push your ass back against his hips harder, a strangled moan leaving him as his forehead knocks against your shoulder. “i told you you can always use me if you need me hannie, even when i’m sleeping.” he moans as you shake your hips a little, precum soaking through his sleep pants and wetting your bare ass cheeks as the lace of your panties became lost between the plump mounds.

“i know, i just-“ his sentence gets cut off with another moan before he buries his face in your neck, his lips latching on to the skin as he sucks and bites to hide his loud and pathetic moans. 

“i wanna hear you baby,” you mumble as you stop moving your hips only for jeonghan’s to push against your ass hard enough to almost push you onto your stomach. “do you want this?” he nods as he continues to desperately grind against your ass and suck a hickey onto your neck so that everyone can see you’re his. 

just as you open your mouth, jeonghan is detaching from your neck to whimper, any care of sounding embarrassing going out the window as all he can think about is recreating the feelings he felt in his dream. 

“yes, please.. i want this.. i want you..” you giggle quietly at how breathless he sounded, you could only imagine the look on his face in that moment as your back was still turned to him. 

“are you positive?” you mumble, you weren’t that much more experienced than jeonghan was. even though you weren’t a virgin anymore, you’ve only experienced an orgasm by another person a couple times - most not satisfactory hence why you’ve taken things so slow with jeonghan. you didn’t want it to end up like all the failed relationships you’ve had in the past, that all ended due to neither of your sexual needs being met by the other. “it’s two a.m.” you finally look at the clock. 

“i know..” he whispers, finally stopping his hips so he could just hold you. “i… i had a dream. about you.” he swallows the lump in his throat. “you.. you were riding me and.. and i was so close and then it stopped because i woke up and..”

“and now you’re so hard it hurts, doesn’t it baby?” you coo quietly as he nods his head quickly. you manage to shift around in his grasp so you can finally look at him. his eyes were screwed shut and with just the moonlight illuminating his body you could still see the faint blush disappearing below the cream sweater he had on. “i can’t help with that.” 

your fingers rub at his chest lightly as you watch the way his adams apple bobs as he finally opens his eyes to look at you. it wasn’t hard to miss how his pupils were blown with just, even in the darkness. you trail your fingers down the front of his body, stopping when you catch the waistband of his sleep pants. 

“please..” he begs quietly, his hips bucking forward. 

“how about we save riding for another night..” you mumble as you lean forward, your lips ghosting over his before he’s crashing forward to kiss you deeply. the hand that was on your side moved to grab your hair, keeping you close as he shoves his tongue in your mouth only to whine when you nip and suck on it. 

“what.. what’re we gonna do tonight?” he pants when he pulls away from the kiss, not sure of what he should do exactly. no amount of porn would’ve ever prepared him to actually be in bed like this with you - even being together for ten months wouldn’t have pressured him for how hard his cock throbbed just looking at you in the moonlight right now.

“we’ll take it slow and easy.. i don’t wanna break you just yet.” the promise of you breaking him in the future had him practically pouncing you as he pushes you onto your back as he kisses you hard again. giggling into the kiss you bury your fingers in his long black locks. “hannie!”

“sorry, i just..” he whines when you pull his hair. “just so excited..” he breathes, his eyes fluttering close as he starts to grind against your clothed pussy, his precum and your slick soaking through the lace mixing and making a mess of his pants and your bare thighs. 

“take..” you let out a quiet whine. “take your pants off hannie.” he listens to you, forcing himself to stop as he pushes them down his thighs far enough for him to kick them off, along with the blanket that haphazardly hangs off his hips. 

“what next? condom?” he squeaks when you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him back down to be flush with your hot core. 

“you remind me to take my birth control everyday, hannie,” you giggle as you watch his eyes roll as he tries to comprehend how close your warmth was to his cock. “and you know i’m clean, and i know you are too..”

“raw?” his voice cracks before he moans at just the idea while you let out a hum of approval.

“want to feel all of you hannie, don’t you wanna feel all of me too? how warm and wet i am?” you purr as you run your fingers through his hair as he nods his head quickly for the millionth time that night - you were almost worried he was gonna get whiplash. 

“can.. can i..” his words got caught in his throat as he thought of what to say. 

“can you, what baby? use your big boy words and tell me what you want to do to me.”

“can i feel you?” he mumbles.

“feel me how?” you wanted to see how far you could push him until he was begging to fuck you. 

“feel.. feel you around my cock.” he chokes out, your ears warming up at how quick and abrupt he was.

“no foreplay?” you fake pout, knowing you were wet enough for him to slide in with ease. 

“if i don’t fuck you right now i might just cum in my boxers like before.” he whines a little embarrassed at how easy you can get him to cum. no one has ever had this effect on him before, the few partners he’s had in the past have never made him cum in his pants just from some making out and grinding. 

“that’s a good boy, using your words.” you loosen your legs a little so he can lift his hips enough to push his boxers down enough to free his cock. it was long, and curved with the girth of a red bull can - you just knew it was going to feel delicious as you lick your lips, a new rush of arousal soaking your panties. 

jeonghan doesn’t give you much time to even think about taking your panties off before he’s leaning down to kiss you again, pushing back the nerves he was feeling. he’s never done this before, only having the experience of fucking his fist while watching shitty porn in years leading up to finally dating you. 

“just push them to the side.” you gasp against his lips when you feel the heaviness of his cock sitting against your soaked panties. 

“like this?” he hooks his finger through the wet crotch of your panties before pulling them far enough to the side so your pussy was exposed to the cool air of the bedroom. you nod your head as you bite your lip, watching the way he licks up the drool that dripped from the corner of his mouth as he looked at your pussy glistening in the moonlight. “fuck..” 

“maybe you can taste me later.” you spread your legs wider so he had a better view.

“taste?” he looks at you wide-eyed, excitement lacing his voice because he got to taste you later.

“you can do whatever you want to me baby, i’m yours.” 

“mine..” he mumbles before a new wave of confidence washed over him. he remembered back to his dream, how he held his cock as you lowered yourself onto it. copying his dream self, jeonghan grabs the base of his cock, stroking it a couple times as he whines at the stimulation. “tell me.. if i’m doing this wrong.” he breathes as he smacks the tip of his cock against your wet folds before he pushes past them enough to bump against your clit.

“a little lower baby,” you mumble, moaning at the pleasure of his tip kissing your clit before he runs it down through your folds, slipping in farther once he finds the entrance. “there you go.” you hum quietly as he slowly starts to push in. 

he was slow, inching his way into your pussy as he processed the feeling of how warm and soft you felt. at about half way in he realized you were tight, tighter than he thought as he moaned loudly. 

“you’re so tight.. is, is that normal?”

“yes,” you let out a breathy giggle. “just.. just keep going.” you moan as he pushes in more, passing the threshold of where all your past lovers bottomed out at. 

“all of it?” he mumbles, his lip trembling as he tries to think of anything but cumming. 

“all of it.” you moan louder when he pushes the last two inches in, sheathing all eight and a half inches inside of you. “fuck hannie.. so.. so big.” your voice cracked as you tried not to lose yourself at feeling so full. his tip kissed your cervix perfectly, like he was meant for you and for breeding you. 

“i.. i-“ his voice trembled as he let his body lay against yours again, his sweater covered hands moving to grab ahold of yours for support as he pinned them to the bed on either side of your head. 

“take your time hannie.” you wrap your legs around his waist against, hooking your ankles together so you didn’t lose your grip in case he went fast. “go slow, it’s ok.. i’m not going anywhere.” the reassurance was enough to get him to experimentally thrust his hips. 

jeonghan moans along with you as his cock dragged against the plush walls of your pussy. he doesn’t have the strength in his body to hold himself up as he began to slowly rock his hips against yours at an unsteady pace. 

“hannie,” you moan when his cock hits new places you didn’t even know existed. your toes curl at the pleasure as you throw your head back further into your pillow - even at the pace and angle he was going at it felt amazing, new even. it was almost like your first time all over again as your body got used to the feeling of being stretched open and experiencing your cervix being kissed by the tip of his cock every time he pushed his hips against yours - making sure every inch of him is inside of you. 

“so.. so warm.” he whines, his body shifting so he can hover his upper body over yours, his hips reaching a slightly deeper angle as he thrusts his hips a little faster. “fuck, fuck, fuck.” he whispers as he screws his eyes closed, his fingers squeezing your hands tighter. your pussy felt soft and squishy almost as lewd squelching filled the space between your guys' loud whimpers and moans. 

he hits your cervix at just the right angle, cashing you to clench hard around his cock, his mouth falling open as he lets out an almost silent moan. his head falls forward so his forehead knocks against yours, a little string of drool dripping from his tongue as it almost hangs out his mouth. he looks completely lost in the pleasure as he whines and moans, trying to keep some type of rhythm as he finds new spots to hit, causing you to clench harder around him.

“ah~ hannie!” you almost scream when he pulls out far enough to hit your vapor when he pushes back in. 

“ngh~” he squeezes his eyes tighter, his orgasm right there. it feels nothing like the build up he feels when he’s doing this on his own, it was so much deeper in his stomach as the blood rushes through his ears. another string of drool drips from his tongue and this time you open your mouth to catch it as you moan at the feeling of his cock nuzzling your cervix with each snap of his hips. 

“right.. right there!” you whine, your pussy clenching again and this time it does draw jeonghan over the edge as he spills his hot seed deep inside your cunt. 

“f-fuuuuu-“ he chokes on the moan in his throat as he almost falls against your body. he doesn’t stop thrusting though, riding his orgasm out as best as he could as he learned the limits his body could handle. you tried to tell him it was ok to stop but he cuts your words very short as he snaps his hips harder then he has before.

“ah!” it was your turn for your mouth to hang out as he opted to snap his hips hard instead of trying to keep any kind of steady rhythm. 

“you… you like that?” he whines, his eyes welling with tears as his thighs tensed and shook at the overstimulation. he’s done this to himself plenty of times before, call him a masochist but the feeling of his body forcing a second orgasm because he was too weak to stop was blissful.

“yes.. yes baby, fuck!” you gasp, your back arching as your legs squeezed his hips tighter. “right there! don’t stop please.” you whine loudly, your body beginning to shake as your pussy clamps down on his cock - your orgasm washing over you quickly as he keeps hitting the same spot just like you asked. 

jeonghan had forced his eyes open to watch you come undone, the way your hair laid messily around your head made you look breathtaking. and even through his tears, that began to fall onto your cheeks he couldn’t help but notice the way your nose crinkles when he finally stops thrusting. he lets his body fall back against yours as he goes lax, his chest heaving as he closes his eyes and lets his mind go while he listens to your rapid heartbeat. 

“hannie?” you breathe out between your quiet pants. instead of answering you, jeonghan squeezes your hands lightly to tell you he’s heard you but he’s not all there yet. you can’t help but smile softly, your fingers squeezing his back as you lay as still as possible, waiting for him to be the one to move first. 

“that..” he finally mumbled after his lungs stopped burning from all the exertion and moaning he did. “that was amazing.” he nuzzled his face against your shoulder. 

“i’m glad,” you smile wide, the joy of his first time being amazing overfilled you. “you made me feel so good, baby.” you could feel his softening cock twitch at the praise before he’s moving to untangle himself from your body. 

you both hiss when he slips all the way out of your pussy that was dripping with his cum now. jeonghan groans at the sight before he moves your panties to cover you again, he didn’t need to get hard again - especially when you two still had work in a couple hours.

“we should go get cleaned up.” he mumbles as he helps you sit up, worry filling his eyes when you wince a little. “are you ok? did i hurt you?”

“m ok baby,” you give him a reassuring smile before leaning forward to peck his nose. “it’s just been awhile since i’ve done this.. and you’re definitely the biggest i’ve ever had.” you giggle when he averts his eyes and covers his reddening face with his sleeve covered hands. 

“don’t… don’t say things like that to me or..” he mumbles.

“or what? you’ll get hard again?” you bite your lip when you notice his cock, that’s on full display despite the sweater pooling against his thighs, twitch again. “god..” you almost whine at the sight before you look over your shoulder to see the time. 

“it’s three a.m now..” you mumble. “too tired to shower but we should both go pee and change out of these sweaters, it got hot in here.” you smile when your boyfriend doesn’t uncover his face but nods in agreement. carefully you reach forward to gently pry his sweater paws from his face to see he’s still looking off to the side with a blush on his face. “are you ok hannie?” 

“mhm..” he nods before biting his lip. “i just.. couldn’t have imagined this being more perfect.” he mumbles before finally looking at you, his hair falling into his face a little. you could feel your own face begin to heat up before you’re leaning forward to give him a quick kiss on the lips. 

“i couldn’t have imagined this being more perfect either.” you mumble before you kiss him a little deeper, your arms moving to wrap around his neck as he pulls you closer between his legs. 

“let’s go get cleaned up now..” he mumbles against your lips when he finally pulls away for air. “we can still get a couple more hours of sleep if we don’t get distracted.”

“distracted?” you smile as you pull away fully. “by what? you new found stamina for sex?” 

“no! i mean-“ he huffs and crosses his arms when he realizes you’re just pulling at his strings. “you’re unbelievable..”

“and yet you love me.” you hum satisfied as you slide off the bed to shuffle towards the private bathroom that was connected to your guys’ bedroom. 

“i do love you.” he smiles to himself as he watches the way his hoodie barely covers your ass as you walk away. 

“and i love you! now stop staring at my ass and help me clean up!” you yell from the bathroom, glad your walls were decently sound proofed.

“who said i was staring at your ass?” he yells back, getting up to grab a fresh pair of underwear and shirts for you both before he’s following you into the bathroom where you already sat on the toilet naked. he fights with every ounce in his body not to ogle at you before he’s turning around and mumbling that he’s ‘not strong enough for this’ as you giggle about the blush you can see creeping up his ears again. 

reblogs + feedback is greatly appreciated!

#svthub #k vanity #kflixnet #jeonghan smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #jeonghan imagines #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #jeonghan scenarios #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #jeonghan x reader

[onlyhuis]

like a chair

member — jeonghan x f reader genre — smut word count — 1.4k synopsis — when jeonghan tells you to sit, you sit. smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, face sitting, oral (reader receiving), hair pulling (jh receiving), overstimulation (both receiving), pet names (princess, baby), jeonghan is a dirty little masochist and he cums in his pants notes — jeonghan pussy eater agenda everyone say amen. tagging @duhnova because they'd be mad at me if i didn't

there’s a muffled noise between your legs and you lift your hips up, wincing at the sudden feeling of cold air.

“why’d you move?” jeonghan asks below you, clearly out of breath but pretending not to be. he’s wearing nothing except for his sweatpants, his bare arms wrapped securely around your thighs as he lays against the bed.

you look down at him, unconsciously squeezing your legs around his head when you see the mess around his mouth. his cheeks are a deep shade of pink and his lips are swollen and sticky, glistening with spit and slick. “you were trying to say something?”

“just talking to myself about how good you taste.” he smirks and tugs at your thighs to pull you back down onto his mouth, flicking his tongue upwards through your folds when you try to resist.

you frown and cross your arms, ignoring the tingling in your stomach as you watch his nails dig into your skin, his fingers turning pale at the tightness of his grip. “well, don’t do that. it makes me think i’m suffocating you.”

“princess, i appreciate your concern, but when i say sit on my face, i mean sit. like a chair. don’t think about me.”

“hannie—”

but before you can say anything he yanks you down hard, catching you off guard as you fall against his waiting mouth. you whimper as his lips immediately wrap around your clit, one hand shooting out to grip the headboard to stabilize yourself.

you look down between your legs where you can just barely see the top half of jeonghan’s face, his tangled hair sprawled across the pillow. his eyes are the only part of him that’s visible, hungrily staring straight up at you, as if he’s daring you to sit up again and see what happens.

you throw your head back with a breathy groan. the sloppy sounds coming from beneath you go straight to your core, the knot in your stomach tightening too fast for you to keep up with.

you try your hardest to resist the urge to grind against his mouth, but he knows you too well and knows you’re holding back, which is not what he wants, despite how you worry about him. his hands slide behind your ass and you look down again, finding an almost disappointed look in his eyes as he starts to rock your hips back and forth.

your other hand falls to his hair, weaving your fingers through it and tugging as you give in, dragging your pussy across his tongue with a whine. you can feel him smile against you when you grip his hair tighter, pushing your hips into his eager mouth. 

if there’s one thing jeonghan loves more than anything in the world, it’s when you use him for your pleasure. he usually has to coax you into it at first, not wanting to hurt him, but once your orgasm starts to close in something changes and suddenly you’re more frantic with your movements, more desperate to get off, the only thought occupying your mind is how good the feeling of his mouth, or his fingers or his cock or whatever’s inside you, is.

he lets your hand in his hair guide him, pushing and pulling his head around exactly where you want him. he can tell you’ve stopped thinking, focused only on the feeling of your walls throbbing around his tongue and his nose pressed against your clit. 

he can feel his cock straining against his pants, aching from not being touched, but the wait is well worth it when he finally gets to feel you cum on his mouth. he groans at the thought and you pull his hair harder, moaning out his name as you grind down on his mouth. his grip on your ass tightens, and he can feel his own spit mixed with your wetness dripping down his chin.

“fuck, hannie, right— right there! please,” you gasp out, your thighs squeezing the sides of his head so hard it makes him dizzy.

if his mouth wasn’t currently occupied he would make you beg him for permission before you cum, but he’s feeling generous tonight, as he usually does when you let him eat you out like this.

he purses his lips around your clit, sucking as hard as he can, and he can feel your legs tense up as you finally break, a flood of wetness seeping onto his tongue. your fingers clench and unclench in his hair, almost in rhythm with the way your cunt clenches above his mouth. 

he never lets up, continuing to drag your hips as you ride his face through your orgasm. you try to lift yourself up a little, flinching away from him, but his grip on you is firm. he holds you down against his mouth as he laps at your pussy, determined to clean up every last drop that spills out of you despite your whines and pleas.

he keeps going even when you call his name, the words stuck in your throat as you struggle to breathe through the overstimulation. you tug on his hair one more time to get his attention, but instead it just pushes him over the edge before he can even see it coming.

he nearly blacks out for a second, eyes squeezed shut as he releases a guttural moan into your pussy. his fingers loosen and you finally manage to break away from him, pushing your hips away from his face and falling to the side as your legs tremble with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

without your cunt smothering his face jeonghan finally gasps for air, his mouth hanging open and his chest heaving with shallow, hurried inhales. the dark stain on his sweatpants continues to grow as he lets out soft groans, his cock jerking as warmth floods his abdomen. 

you roll onto your back and look over at him, still panting as you start to catch your breath. watching the distant look in his eyes makes you grin, and you lean over to kiss a dry spot on his cheek. his hand falls to your shoulder as he pulls you closer to kiss you properly, and you whimper at the wetness on his warm lips.

the kiss doesn’t last very long, though, and he pulls back with a long sigh, still trying to even out his breathing. you rest your head on his chest and look up at him, captivated with how fucked out he looks as you wait for him to return to you.

after a moment he looks down at you, meeting your eyes with a mischievous smile. “see? didn’t suffocate,” he says, almost proudly.

you roll your eyes in response, swiping your thumb across his nose to wipe away some of the wetness, though it doesn’t make much of a difference. he sighs again and relaxes into the bed, but you move your fingers to his neck and he tenses up again, grinning when he sees you’re not quite done for the night.

your hand slides down his bare chest, drifting over his defined abs and pausing at the waistband of his sweats before resting on top of the wet spot, adding just a little bit of pressure. he moans and pushes his hips into your hand, shivering as his own overstimulation begins to set in at your touch.

“baby—mmh, too much,” he whimpers, his smile instantly falling. his hand moves on top of yours but his grip is light, his body telling a different story than his words.

you lean over his face and drag your tongue across his chin, keeping your eyes locked with his as you clean up the mess you’d left behind. “can’t believe you came untouched, just from letting me ride your face,” you whisper with a mischievous smile of your own. “you like it, don’t you? it gets you off, when you make me cum all over your tongue.”

“fuck,” he curses, arching his hips off the bed as he pushes his ruined sweats off onto the floor. “i can go again, just wait, please.”

you press another kiss to his puffy lips, deciding to be generous to him, too. “eat me out until you’re hard again and then i’ll suck you off, okay?”

suddenly with newfound energy he flips you onto your back, grinning as he shimmies down the bed and pries your shaky legs apart. “deal.”

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

> strikethrough means your blog cannot be tagged, please check your visibility settings and make sure they are off so i can tag you properly!

> taglist |  @wonderfulshinee @noniestars @onlymingyus @just-here-to-read-01 @darlingvernon @wonuziex @enhacolor @yourfavoritefreakyhan @dkakapizzaboy @zozojella @rainyjeno @jwnghyuns @uwuheeseungie @miriamxsworld @synthetickitsune @simeonswhore @junhour @foxdaisy @limesorbets @98-0603 @fairybinie @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @mingminghao @ifuckcheol @jeanjacketjesus @luvwonyy @tinkerbell460 @novalpha @ronnie97b @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @usari @hyneyedfiz @honestlydooetree @ktackore @k-drama-adict @cloecard

> if you want to be notified when i post a new fic, you can join my taglist here!

#1k #kflixnet #kvanity #k-labels #[📌] — june.writes #[❤️] — smut #[💟] — jeonghan #jeonghan smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan imagines #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #kpop smut

[shuaflix]

my guardian demon sucks at his job (not clickbait)

❝ look, i accidentally summoned jeonghan from my statistics textbook the day before you met him at the olive garden. ❞

PAIRING ▸ demon!yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, fluff, humor, angst, supernatural, demon au

WARNINGS ▸ not so biblically accurate, profanity, slowburn, found family, inspirations from mythology and h. p. lovecraft, lots of banter, alcohol consumption, sexual tension, teasing, dirty talk, oral (fem. receiving), fingering, palming, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), mc is painfully horny, ft. demon!shua and demon!wonwoo 

SUMMARY ▸ just when you thought your luck couldn't get any worse, you accidentally manage to summon an ancient demon prince named jeonghan out of a scrap of paper from your statistics textbook. now, you're tasked with figuring out how to return your so-called "guardian demon" back to where he came from before he can stir up more trouble.

PLAYLIST ▸ our dawn is hotter than day by seventeen • cruel summer by taylor swift

WORD COUNT ▸ 23,610 words

TAG LIST ▸ @byunfirstlady​ @90s-belladonna​ @knucklesdeepmingi​ @xlovette​ @variety-is-the-joy-of-life​ @hatesbutlovespeople7734​ @goquokka​

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ i had so much fun writing this so i hope you guys enjoy this one!! thank you so much for supporting my works ♡ lmk what u think!

TO BE FAIR, YOU REALLY DIDN’T EXPECT THE SPELL TO WORK.

You initially thought the scrap of paper you found in your statistics textbook was someone’s torn-up Latin homework. You borrowed the copy from the library earlier in the day, realizing that the only way you would pass your midterm would be if you actually studied. Wedged between the pages of Chapter Three - Linear Regression was the dubious piece of paper.  

You thought nothing of it at first. You turned a blind eye to how it was yellowed due to age, thinking it was just left behind by accident. It didn’t even cross your mind about how strange it was that someone left their Latin homework in a statistics textbook.

There was no real reason why you read the words aloud. You thought it could act as some sort of good luck charm—something that could manifest good grades on your exams—but you ended up with the exact opposite.

The paper started glowing, but it wasn’t bright light; a void of pitch darkness emitted from the scrap instead. Mind you, it was nearly the middle of the night. It was already dark, but your room was starting to look like you had opened up a schism in space.

You dropped the paper in the middle of the room instinctively, hissing lightly at how it nearly froze your fingers off. Your room’s temperature dropped by several degrees, and if you weren’t internally freaking out about the random black hole in the middle of your room, you would have curled up in your blankets.

This was one hell of a karmic retribution for slacking on your work for half the semester.

You could hardly see the paper, but you could see faint smoke coming from the middle of the source. It seeped along your bedroom floor, and you contemplated calling your roommate for help before realizing that you, in fact, had no roommate and lived alone.

From there, the paper seemed to crumple up and dissipate into thin air. Instead, a shadowy figure emerged from the smoke. You were not religious by any means, but you felt like this was probably the best time to start praying to whatever higher power was out there.

Light returned to the room once the darkness and smoke faded away. You could now make out the entity’s figure more clearly, noting how it towered over you with sharp horns sticking out from its tuft of hair. Once you could see well enough to make out its face, you were met with what you thought was a human, though the horns and red eyes were throwing you in for a loop.

Humans often had four different psychological responses to traumatic or stressful experiences:

Fight: facing any perceived threat head-on.

Flight: running away from the perceived threat.

Fawn: resorting to appealing to the perceived threat to avoid potential conflict.

Freeze: being unable to move or act against the perceived threat.

Being the absolute weapon of survival you were, your body chose to freeze.

The thing just stared at you until its mouth stretched into a lazy smirk. “Hey, I’m—”

In seconds, your body moved on its own. As soon as you heard the smallest sound come from the being, you grabbed your backpack that was leaning against your bed frame, and you started swinging at the entity with it.

You chose to fight.

You were no longer useless.

“Ow!” the thing winced, shrinking back with each blow. You were slightly worried about breaking your laptop inside, but you were currently prioritizing your life more. “Cut it out!”

You got a better look at this thing. He was clearly attractive with his strong jawline and dark, sleepy eyes—assuming he was even a dude in the first place. You still kept your guard up around Pretty Boy, though, considering he had just Harry Potter’d his way into your bedroom.

“Who—what are you?” you spluttered, holding your backpack up in a (hopefully) threatening way.

“Me?” Pretty Boy grinned. “I’m your demon.”

What in the Wizards of Waverly Place was this man talking about? You stared blankly at the guy before taking a careful step backward. Of course, there were far too many supernatural elements packed into the last minute for you to completely shut down the idea, but it sounded downright crazy. This was something that only happened in books and movies, and they weren’t supposed to be hot!

“A… a demon? From Hell?”

“Yes, that’s usually where demons tend to be from.”

Great, this “demon” was a smart-ass, too.

“What’s a demon?” you asked. It took you a few moments to realize that you had, in fact, asked an extremely stupid question. Of course you knew what a demon was; you didn’t have to be a religious studies major to know about all the Jesus and Satan lore.

“I’m glad you asked,” said demon started, although he didn’t seem to be glad at all. “There are demons that should be summoned, and there are demons that should not be summoned. Can you guess which one I am?”

“Uh…” You deliberated carefully. “You’re a demon that can be summoned.”

“Wrong!” Pretty Boy answered. “I’m a demon that shouldn’t be summoned, so I need you to explain how on Earth you summoned me.”

“I—I thought you said you were my demon.”

“I am,” he said, “because most demons can only be summoned by their designated human, which you did, but I, of all demons, am not meant to be summoned and trapped in this realm! How in Lucifer’s name did you summon me, human?”

You held up a hand to keep him from charging forward at you. “First of all, my name is Y/N. Shouldn’t you be familiar with your own human’s name? Second of all, what do you mean by ‘designated human’?”

Pretty Boy sighed. “I’m supposed to be your assigned demon.”

You frowned. “Supposed to be?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’ve kind of been neglecting you. Totally forgot your name and everything.” He hummed inquisitively. “Remind me of it again?”

“Y/N,” you repeated carefully, slightly offended. “What the hell is an assigned demon?”

“If I tell you,” he started in a somber tone, and you hung onto every word, worrying at your lip and fearing something dreadful would happen, “then it’s no fun.”

He had to be fucking with you.

“No fun?” you questioned. “Are you kidding?”

“I happen to be very serious,” he answered, “and I’m getting the feeling that you’re a bit of a kill-joy, human.”

“Listen,” you spat, “I have a stats midterm tomorrow, so you better start talking before I get back to studying and ignore you.”

“Fine,” he complied. “Think of it, like… a guardian demon.”

“Damn.” You looked up at him with wide eyes. “If I give you my soul, can you help me pass my midterm?”

“That’s not quite how it works, and I may be a demon, but that’s a pretty stupid request in exchange for your soul,” he deadpanned. “Okay, now tell me how you summoned me.”

Your gaze dropped to the spot on the floor where the black void opened up. You recalled the slip of paper disintegrating into thin air once the demon appeared. You were certain that was the key to this bizarre merging of two realms.

“Uh,” you said, “there was a piece of paper with some Latin written on it. You appeared after I read the words out loud.”

And after turning your room into an arctic tundra.

Pretty Boy’s face fell upon your words. You were shocked that the demon looked so crest-fallen all of a sudden, and it was making you feel a bit guilty for dragging him out of Hell.

You decided to ask, “Are you okay?”

“I am not okay, I am Yoon Jeonghan, one of the seven princes of Hell,” he started angrily, causing you to take a cautious step backward. “I am Greed, the creator of alchemy, forger of the Twin Blade, constructor of the—” The demon cut himself off when you held up a fist to your mouth to keep yourself from laughing. “W-what? What’s so funny, human?”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized quickly, accidentally letting a giggle slip from your lips, “but there’s no way some pretty face like you is a demon prince.”

“I emerged from an opening in the ground, and you still refuse to believe I’m a demon?”

“Well—”

“Human, do you know why a ‘pretty face’ like me is a demon prince?” Pretty Demon Boy a.k.a Jeonghan inquired, stepping closer until you were backed up against your desk. “The King of all demons himself was once considered the most beautiful of all angels. Why?” With three fingers, he tilted your chin up enough for you to take a good look at him—at the swirling dark red in his eyes. “Because demons represent temptation.”

“Temptation,” you echoed, embarrassed that your voice came out more strangled than intended. “Yeah, well, I’m really tempted to kick your ass back to Hell right now.”

You supposed he was onto something, in a sense. Maybe Jeonghan was telling the truth because you couldn’t focus on anything else but how his lips were nearing yours. It was as if your senses had completely clouded over.

Upon your words, however, he dropped his gaze and pulled away from you. Jeonghan looked saddened, which was a sight you had not expected from the smug-faced demon. You weren’t educated on demon lore or anything, but you were quite surprised that they were capable of feeling such human emotions.

“There are ways demons can be summoned,” he said in a somber voice. “If we are summoned by our names, then we can appear and promptly return to Hell. Incantations, though, are tricky; with negligence, there is a possibility that I’m stuck here.”

“Stuck here?” you asked, raising your voice. “What do you mean? You can’t go back?”

“Well, do you remember the words on that piece of paper?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t have a way of going back, dumbass.”

You huffed. “I didn’t know a demon prince could have the vocabulary of a middle school boy.”

“We can speak any language on this planet and adapt to modern slang,” he explained. “I can also speak dolphin. Wanna hear?”

“No, let’s circle back to getting you back to Hell,” you shut him down before he started using echolocation. “There has to be some other way, right?”

“We have a few options, actually,” he said, sitting on the edge of your bed. You cringed at the thought of the intruder making himself at home, but you supposed you were the one who got him in this mess, anyway. It wouldn’t be smart for you to boss him around, especially since he could overtake you easily. “Either you remember the incantation, or… actually, I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

“So, we only have one option?” you clarified. “I have the memory of a goldfish, so I think you’re fucked.” You scratched your neck in thought. “Can’t you call one of your demon buddies to bring you back?”

“Demon buddies?” He laughed coldly. “We aren’t exactly buddy-buddy down there.”

“Then why do you wanna go back so bad?”

“This materialized human form of mine will not last me very long,” he replied gravely, though you weren’t quite convinced the horns and red eyes were doing him any favors. “Normally, I could be up here for as long as I want, but my powers are weak right now. I will eventually perish like this, unless…”

“Unless?”

“Unless I kill an angel.”

After your morbid conversation with Jeonghan, you decided you would deal with the issue after your midterm. The demon insisted that he would not be able to leave your side since you summoned him, so that led to him sleeping on your floor. To your horror, he was pleasantly satisfied with this sleeping arrangement, claiming it was “better than being boiled alive in oil.”

His bedroom in Hell didn’t sound very cozy.

The next morning, you woke to an email notification that your midterm had been canceled. Something about your professor falling sick out of nowhere.

You wanted to rejoice, but you couldn’t help but feel that this was because of Jeonghan. This was probably the whole “guardian demon” thing, but he was causing chaos and disorder to get you what you wanted. It left an uneasy feeling, but, regardless, you were satisfied with not taking an exam.

Anyway, why was Jeonghan, self-proclaimed prince of demons, assigned to be your guardian? When you turned in your bed to see him sitting at your desk and staring at your textbook, you asked him the question that was bugging you.

He scoffed and replied, “I don’t know. Luck?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Is it really lucky that a demon prince was assigned to me? Sounds a little unnerving.”

“That just means you have a powerful demon on your side.” He smirked and leaned in to ask, “Were you happy to see your midterm canceled this morning?”

“So it was you!” you exclaimed. “Look, I appreciate it and everything, but you can’t just make people sick to help me out.”

“I can’t?” He looked surprisingly innocent when you reprimanded him, like a seven-year-old being told not to color on the walls. “I didn’t even murder him or anything.”

“That—that’s also pretty bad,” you stammered. “Let’s not do any of that, okay?”

“But that’s no fun.”

“This isn’t about having fun! These are people’s lives. How would you feel if I harmed one of the other demon princes for fun?”

“That’s hot. I’d probably cum in my pants.”

“Okay, maybe that was a bad example,” you grumbled. “Is there anyone you care about down there?”

“Not down there, not up here,” he replied. “I’m a demon, remember? There’s no one who cares for me, so I don’t care for anyone either.”

“Wow,” you said. “You could be the poster boy for 2012 Tumblr angst.”

“I’ll pretend I understood that, human.”

There was something bothering you, though. Jeonghan’s words last night about killing an angel were parroting in your head. You couldn’t shake off the guilt that he could potentially die on Earth because of you, but it felt immoral to kill an angel to return to his prison in Hell. On the other hand, you couldn’t bear to see him perish because of you.

“How long do you have?” you asked. “You know… to live.”

“Hm… I’d say about 718 years?”

“Oh, what the fuck? You’re chilling.”

“In Hell time.”

You frowned. “How long is that in Earth years?”

Jeonghan’s gaze flew to the ceiling as he tried to calculate the math in his head, using his fingers to count off. “That’s about half an Earth year, so, like, six months.”

“Oh no,” you replied in absolute dread, “and you’re still planning on killing an angel?”

“If that’s the only way to save me—yes.”

“Well, how do you even find one?”

“I can sense their presence,” he said before standing up. “Come on, human. You’ll have to show me around your world so that I can remember the mortal way of life.”

“I guess, but first”—you stopped him by raising your hand—“you’ll have to get rid of those horns.”

Once Jeonghan concealed his horns and changed his eyes to a more socially acceptable color, you gave him the green light to go outside. He looked good like this, but he was attracting too much attention. The demon simply had too big of an ego to tone down the attractiveness, so you were stuck walking around with a chick magnet.

“You’re a demon,” you whispered harshly. “You’re telling me you don’t have any ugly forms?”

Jeonghan sighed. “That is the unfortunate curse of a demon. We can’t help that our beauty is so blinding.”

You wanted to punch him. The boiling oil prison bed wasn’t a curse, but this was?

“Well, people are staring, and it’s making me uncomfortable. I’ve never been the center of attention—or, well, around the center of attention.”

“Then would you like me to gouge out their eyeballs with a dagger?”

“No!” you yelled. “No, there will be no gouging of eyeballs!”

You started going off on your Murder Is Normally Socially Unacceptable And Wrong tangent up until you realized that Jeonghan was no longer next to you. Fear shot up your spine right before you spotted him standing in front of an Olive Garden that you two had walked past earlier.

“Jeonghan, what are you doing?” you asked, frowning. “Let’s keep walking.”

“Human,” he said, clearly ignoring your words, “take me into this restaurant.”

“You’re hungry?” When he nodded, you sighed and complied, saying, “Alright, then, I’ll pay.”

You were worried that the demon wouldn’t behave properly, but, to your surprise, he stood to the side and let you do the talking. You found his shy smile strangely endearing, especially when he tilted his head after the waitress asked if you two were a couple.

“Yes,” he answered before you could shut it down. “We’ve come in a pair.”

You forced a laugh, glancing at the waitress to make sure she didn’t think you two were absolute nutjobs. Well, you supposed it had no effect on you if your psychotic demon was perceived as one, but you were 100% normal across the board. Thankfully, the waitress laughed it off and asked if either of you wanted anything to drink.

You smiled. “Just water, please.”

“Do you have any blood?” Jeonghan asked at the same time.

Your head shot up to see his furrowed brows as he tried to decipher the Italian dishes on the menu. At this point, you were mortified and could positively say that you were not taking Jeonghan outside after this. You’d rather be stuck in his boiling oil prison than be put through this torment.

“B-Bloody Mary?” the waitress asked.

“Oh, is this Mary providing the blood? I don’t really care to know who exactly she is, but I appreciate the—”

“Yeah, he meant a Bloody Mary,” you cut in loudly, putting on a sugary sweet smile for her. You turned to the demon with a warning look in your eyes, but you kept up the playful act as you chided, “Jeonghan! I told you to quit with the pranks here!”

“Oh, you two are so funny,” the waitress gushed. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

“Thank you!” you chirped. When she was out of sight, you dropped your fake smile so you could kick the living crap out of the demon’s shin. He winced and raised a brow at you. “What made you think you could ask for blood at a restaurant?”

Jeonghan scoffed. “I’m a demon.”

“Oh, really? I wouldn’t have guessed from the hundred times you’ve mentioned it.”

“I can’t eat this food.” Jeonghan put the menu down and ran his fingers down the list of options. “Well, I suppose I could stomach it for sustenance, but it won’t satisfy my hunger.”

“Then what do you need to eat?” you asked, expecting to hear something morbid.

“Well, human blood or flesh would help,” he said. Just as you thought—morbid. Then, after a moment of thought, he added, “or… I’d need to have sex.”

“S-sex?!” you exclaimed. You tried not to choke on air, which failed about five seconds later. Never in your life did you expect hellbound demons to be so lecherous. Well, it made perfect sense, but it was still odd to think about. “You’re telling me the only way you can be fed is by cannibalism or sex?”

“Cannibalism is a strong word.”

“Cannibalism is the only word for people who eat other people!”

“I’m not a person,” he defended. “I’m a demon. I believe you humans call this ‘the food cycle,’ am I right?”

You leaned back in your seat to groan into your hands. “I guess we’re just gonna have to find a way to get you back before you get too hungry. How long can you go without food?”

“Probably forever if I was in Hell,” Jeonghan said, “but I feel really hungry.”

“Is this some ulterior motive to get into my pants?”

Jeonghan barked out a laugh. “Human, do you know who the Seven Deadly Sins are?”

“Sort of? I’ve seen the anime.”

“They’re the seven human vices, and I’m Greed,” he explained. “Other than me, there’s Lust, Wrath, Envy, Sloth, Gluttony, and Pride. Many say that Pride is the worst of them all, but I am destructive at every level. Greed is what breaks a person down and then brings them to destroy the world around them.”

His voice was pitched deeper when he continued, “Greed is the sin that can never be satisifed.”

“O-okay,” you said carefully, “so why are you telling me this?”

“I’m telling you this because you’re pretty naive for someone who summoned a demon as powerful as I am,” he replied calmly. “I’m Greed, so of course that was an ulterior motive to get into your pants.”

Oh.

Awkward.

You weren’t sure if you were blushing because Jeonghan was hot or because no man had ever been so direct with you. For what it was worth, you were positive that the warm feeling in your chest wasn’t because you were flattered or anything. Being asked for sex in the middle of a restaurant wasn’t hot in the slightest bit, and especially after he proceeded to mansplain how he was a manipulative, conniving bastard.

“Don’t feel pressured,” he said.

Although those were the words that came out of his mouth, you could feel the impatience seeping from him. However, it had you thinking that this could become some sort of transaction. You would surely feel used if you let him get what he wanted so easily, but you would definitely be swayed if there was something in it for you. Plus, Jeonghan was unmistakably attractive, which was probably simply the devil’s temptation getting to you.

“If I let you satisfy your hunger… um, sexually,” you started, “then I want something in return.”

A mischievous glint flashed in his dark eyes. “Oh? You’re making things fun, human.”

You felt something hot roiling deep inside your core, making you nearly lose your breath for a moment. The effect he had on you was otherworldly. (You supposed this checked out considering he himself was otherworldly.)

Before you could lay down your guidelines, a voice called from behind, “Sorry, your previous waitress had something come up, so I’ll be taking your orders for your meal. My name’s—whoa, Y/N?”

Your eyes widened. “Seokmin! Oh my god, you work here?”

“Yeah, I do,” he said, laughing lightly at your surprise. “Is this your, uh, boyfriend?”

You met Jeonghan’s stare with an awkward smile. “N-no, we’re just friends.”

Seokmin beamed at the demon, who, to your dismay, made no effort to reciprocate. “Nice to meet you. I was in one of Y/N’s classes last semester. Where are you from?”

Jeonghan reached out to shake the hand that Seokmin held out. You knew he was blunt, but you really didn’t expect him to respond by saying, “Hell.”

You were stabbing metaphysical pitchforks into Jeonghan’s side, fighting the urge to groan into your hands. Seokmin let out a stilted laugh, pausing for a moment to give Jeonghan time to clarify. When the demon didn't, however, Seokmin probably determined that Jeonghan was messing with him.

“You’re funny,” he praised with a grin. “Anyway, can I get you two started on anything?”

Seokmin had the brightest smile you had ever seen. In fact, he seemed to glow brighter just by showing his teeth. You were almost blown away for a moment, just looking up at him and trying not to stumble over your words as he set your drinks down.

“Um,” you started after regaining your composure, “I’ll take the stuffed ziti fritta, please.”

Seokmin turned to Jeonghan, who nodded in your direction with a distracted look on his face. “Yeah, I’ll get the same.”

“Great! I’ll bring those over soon.” With that, Seokmin took both of your menus and walked off.

You smiled to yourself. “What a small world.”

“I have to kill him,” Jeonghan muttered at the same time.

“Excuse me?” you nearly cried. “Jeonghan, are you crazy? You can’t just say things like that in public!”

“Why not?”

“People are gonna think you’re a homicidal maniac! Which you are, but… at least pretend to be normal.”

“Whatever, we’re alone now.” He rolled his eyes. “Your little friend has angel blood in him.”

“What? You’re crazy.”

But then, when you took a moment to consider his words, the lines were starting to draw themselves. It was starting to make sense in your head, with Jeonghan randomly stopping in the middle of the street, as if he was drawn to the restaurant. There was also Seokmin, who almost had an aura of light radiating from him.

Of course, there was the possibility that the demon was speaking nonsense and trying to get in your head. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for him to deceive you, but there was no reason for him to lie. Jeonghan needed an angel to live longer, so he wouldn’t waste his time dealing with those who weren’t of use.

You asked, “How can you tell if he’s an angel or not?”

“I’m a demon. I can sense these things,” he answered, “but I’m sure you can see some of it, too. You saw how he glowed a bit? Maybe even made you feel a little happy out of nowhere?”

It was true that Seokmin’s smile made you forget all of your worries for a second. You thought his radiance was just contagious, but this sort of made sense now that you were semi-familiar with the supernatural. If angels were able to make people feel contented, though, did that mean demons had the opposite effect?

That could probably explain why Jeonghan got on your nerves so easily.

You leaned over the table a little, whispering, “Wouldn’t he know what you are, then?”

“Doubt he knows it himself. He’s a Quartarion—quarter angel. I bet he doesn’t even know he has wings.”

“So… you can’t use him, right? You need an angel, and he’s mostly human.”

“No, I could kill him, actually,” he replied. “I just need to kill an angel-blood. In fact, killing a Quartarion instead of a pure-blood would make my job a lot easier.”

You felt trapped. It wasn’t like you were in any position to argue about Jeonghan’s decisions, considering it was your fault he was in this state. However, you felt sick to your stomach over getting blood on your hands because of him. Even if you weren’t the one killing Seokmin, it was indirectly your fault.

“You are not killing him,” you said firmly.

“What?” Jeonghan almost sounded like a child. “Not even a little?”

“You can’t kill someone a little.”

“Well, maybe if I sliced his—”

“Okay! Be normal, be normal, be normal,” you chanted, trying to get him to hone in some morals. “No murder, no cannibalism, no—”

“Two stuffed ziti frittas!” Seokmin chirped, shutting you up effectively. You swallowed thickly as he set the plates down in front of you and Jeonghan. “Can I get you two anything else?”

���Yeah, actually,” Jeonghan spoke up, a sly grin spreading across his face, “are you free this week?”

Poor, poor Seokmin, you thought miserably.

Jeonghan managed to sweet-talk Seokmin into hanging out with you two later in the week. The very idea was absurd, considering you and Seokmin have only spoken about five times. You thought the demon used some sort of demon power to get Seokmin to comply, but Jeonghan later told you that he was just naturally charismatic.

You decided to deal with the Seokmin issue later, though. Now, you had another problem at hand: the proposal you initiated earlier.

Currently, Jeonghan had you pinned up against your door, his head dipping low so that he could look into your eyes despite your efforts to avert your gaze. Jesus, you knew this was a terrible idea, but every nerve in your body was telling you to just go with it.

He hummed. “What was your offer?”

“This isn’t very guardian demon of you,” you squeaked out.

“I just can’t kill you,” he said. “Sex is still on the table.”

This piqued your interest. “Wait… you’re not allowed to kill me?”

That just made you feel like he would’ve murdered you already if he had the chance.

“I could try, but I physically can’t harm you. I can harm others for you, though,” he said. “Now let’s go back to that offer you were going to make.”

“Let me clarify,” he continued, “it’s not the act of intercourse that feeds me, it’s your taste.”

He was basically saying that he needed to eat you out. You would be lying if you said you were opposed to the idea. You weren’t sure if it was the whole devil’s temptation thing or whatever, but you found yourself wanting to just let Jeonghan have his way with you.

You sucked in a sharp breath. Back at the restaurant, you weren’t ready to lay down any guidelines for the exchange. However, it was clear to you now.

“I’ll agree as long as you don’t kill Seokmin.”

The demon pulled away from you, frowning. “Why can’t I kill him?”

“He’s my… friend,” you tried.

“He appears to share a deeper connection with me, a complete stranger, than he does with you, an established acquaintance.”

Okay, ouch. That stung.

“Okay, he’s not really my friend,” you admitted, “but it’ll make me feel really guilty if you kill him. I know you need to kill an angel-blood to get back, but there has to be another way, right?”

Jeonghan’s voice was pitched lower when he said, “I don’t know about that.” Silence hung heavy in the air for a few moments before he spoke up again, “Fine. I’ll accept your offer. I won’t kill Seokmin for now, but I can’t promise that in the future if I’m left with no other choice.”

That was probably the best you were going to get out of him, so you nodded in agreement. “Deal.”

Before the demon could reply, you shimmied down your shorts, kicking them off your ankles, and then you sat back on your bed. You pressed your thighs together, waiting for him to come forward and take the lead.

Jeonghan just stared at you, jaw gone slack.

“What?” you asked with a frown. Slowly, embarrassment started to heat up your cheeks. “You don’t wanna do it anymore?”

“Human, I feel a bit strange doing this with the stuffed animals lined up on your bed.”

“I just had to convince you not to murder my classmate a minute ago, and you draw the line at this?” You sighed in exasperation. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

Jeonghan just moved closer until he was right in front of you. He pushed your legs apart, surprisingly gentle, and he reached his hand between your legs so that he could prod at the thin material of your underwear at the apex of your legs. You shivered instantly at his touch, grabbing his sleeve when you felt your core ache for more.

“I don’t know,” he murmured, observing how wet you were getting with his gentle touches. “You seem to enjoy bickering with me a little too much, human.”

“T-that’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” The question sounded genuine, but the smirk on Jeonghan’s face was unmistakable. You swallowed hard as his free hand traveled up your thigh slowly, inching further and further until he tugged your underwear down past your thighs. You kicked it off your ankles while he started to position you properly on your bed. “What’s ridiculous is having these adorable playthings watching us.”

You turned your head to see your Sanrio MyMelody Squishmallow staring at you with its big, empty eyes and mocking smile. It almost felt like you were being judged by your own plushie.

Okay, you were starting to get why it was capable of freaking a demon out.

You propped yourself up on your forearm and rose up enough to grab your Squishmallow by its bow and turn it around. Now that it was facing the wall, you strangely felt more at ease.

“Okay, now you can go,” you said with a grin.

Jeonghan scoffed, amused. “Thanks.”

“You’re wel—oh,” you moaned, pressing a fist to your mouth when you felt Jeonghan’s tongue work its way between your folds. “Give me a warning next time, damn.”

He paused for a moment to look up at you, mischief twinkling in his dark eyes. “You’re already thinking about the next time, huh?”

“Just shut up and keep doing your thing.” When he raised a brow at you, you added a frantic, “Please?”

This moment may have been the first time Jeonghan had complied so quickly. He got to work right away, gripping your hips and licking a stripe along your cunt. You arched your back once you heard him groan at the taste of your arousal, and the demon had to push you back down to make sure you weren’t fidgeting too much.

You turned your head to the side, digging your chin into the mattress as Jeonghan’s tongue rolled around your clit in torturous motions. You were fighting the urge to cry out in pleasure because you knew you would never hear the end of it from him. Eventually, though, the feeling overtook your pride, and you let yourself moan for more.

Jeonghan was insatiable. That probably came with being a demon, especially when he represented the sin of greed.

But, the thing was, you didn’t expect him to be so mind-blowingly good.

Your sounds must have spurred him because Jeonghan gripped your thighs harder and ate you out with more fervor. It was a back-arching level of pleasure, but he forced you down every time you tried to squirm. When his tongue snaked past your folds, flicking against the walls of your cunt, you truly understood the sheer power of temptation.

Jeonghan didn’t neglect one inch of your core, flattening his tongue so he could cover the surface completely. He switched from plunging his tongue into your cunt to licking long stripes along your slit so quickly that your vision was starting to curl at the edges. You felt like you were going crazy when you grinded your hips against his tongue and felt his smirk.

No man had ever made you feel this good—no, you were positive that no man could ever make you feel this good. Even Jeonghan’s nose brushing against your clit made you feel like you were combusting.

He brought you to the edge so quickly, and you wondered if you had even made yourself orgasm so fast before. The sensation left your legs shaking around his neck and your head turned to the side in a desperate attempt to hold back your moans. You managed to let out strangled whimpers that left Jeonghan chuckling once he pulled away.

You didn’t know what you were expecting, but you felt a touch disappointed when you looked up at him. There was absolutely no hint of a boner tenting his pants.

“I’d ask,” Jeonghan started with a smirk, “but I can already tell you liked it by the way you were moaning for me.”

You raised yourself onto your elbows, huffing a little. “What about you? Are your powers back now?”

“It doesn’t exactly work like that.” Jeonghan patted his stomach, satisfied. “I’m full, though.”

“Interesting.” You left it there, not wanting to divulge further into his demon diet. “So, you don’t ever have sex for pleasure? Just when you’re hungry?”

“I don’t care for pleasure all that much.”

“Figured,” you mumbled. “Anyway, I’m going to sleep.”

“Already?”

“Yeah, I’m tired. Wake me up in a few hours if I’m not already up.”

“Sure. I’ll go do human things and not kill people.”

“Keep up the good work.”

When Jeonghan left your room, you pulled the covers up to your chin and let out a long sigh. The feeling was fleeting, but long enough for you to take notice. A gentle quickening of your heartbeat and a warm feeling in your chest.

You pushed it down as a brief moment of confusion.

Living with Jeonghan felt like having a guard dog that you kept off its leash.

Not only did you have to stop him from attempting murder on several occasions, but, on the flip side, you also had to warn him about being too nice to make up for his twisted imagination. Jeonghan was far too attractive to be human, and from the numerous times you went outside with him, you realized that he drew too much attention. You were left standing to the side idly while he was chatted up by the umpteenth random girl that wanted his number.

Over the past week, you ended up explaining a lot of things to the demon. Going into depth about the criminal justice system was your favorite because Jeonghan looked flabbergasted by the levels of punishment they had.

(“A six month sentence for theft?” he asked with a frown. “That’s absurd. I got eternity in Hell while being boiled alive in oil!”

“Well, what was your crime?” you asked.

“Uh…”)

Once, you even found him staring at the TV screen with a somber expression on his face. You had never seen Jeonghan so visibly upset, so you asked him what was going on, only to be even more confused when he explained that his pet died. You suspected the demon’s pet to be a hellhound or something. Never did you expect him to pull up a picture of Mount Fuji.

(“His name was Doljjong,” he explained sadly. “He was only 1,359 years old when he erupted for the last time.”

Apparently, Mount Fuji was now extinct. In Jeonghan’s crazy demon lingo, that meant it died.

“You basically had a pet rock, dude.”

“He was more than a rock in my heart.”)

You also had to adjust to living with another man in the house. Thankfully, Jeonghan wasn’t messy or as disgusting as you had expected, but you still had to adjust to some of his living habits that took you by surprise.

For one, Jeonghan preferred showering in scorching hot water. This would not bother you if you hadn’t been dragged into the shower with him on one occasion, which he didn’t seem to think was improper at all. While you were trying not to look at his (beautifully-chiseled) naked body, he was urging you to help him turn down the cold water. As soon as your skin made contact with the water, though, you couldn’t stand the scalding heat.

Strangely enough, although the thought of having a demon in your house terrified you, it was kind of fun to live with him. You liked having someone around that could keep up with your antics, someone who challenged your thirst for argument. Jeonghan was the perfect match for you, and maybe that was why he was your assigned demon.

You finally decided to give him your old phone. It was supposed to be a hand-me-down for your younger brother, but your parents ended up getting him a new one. Since Jeonghan was pretty much ancient, you figured he wouldn’t mind an old phone.

“I want an iPhone 14 Pro Max.”

“What?!” you exclaimed as he took the used iPhone 8 from you, inspecting the home button with a frown. “How do you even know what that is?”

“I wasn’t born yesterday, human.” He scoffed. “I don’t care for outdated possessions.”

Oh, right. Greed.

“Well, if you’re gonna live in my house, then you’re gonna learn to be grateful for what you’ve got.”

“Wait.” Jeonghan paused, looking between you and the phone about three times before he asked, “Can I contact Seokmin with this?”

“Uh, yeah, but—”

“Give me his number,” the demon insisted.

“Jeonghan! You said you weren’t going to kill him!”

“I never said I was going to kill him,” he said, “but I did invite him to hang out, so I should follow up on the offer. Didn’t you tell me that keeping promises is important?”

Ah, right. He was using one of the rules from Y/N’s Guide To Being Human against you. You saw this coming, though; you were no stranger to Jeonghan’s manipulation tactics by now.

“Keeping promises are important, but leading someone on is also wrong,” you chided. “Do not text him if you plan on hurting him in any way.”

He let out a petulant whine before agreeing, “Okay, okay, I won’t.” He thrusted the phone in your direction. “Give me his number, though.”

You bit your lip before you complied. “Fine.”

A few days later, when you had just gotten back from getting lunch with your best friend, Park Sooyoung, you entered your apartment to see Seokmin sitting on the couch.

“Oh!” you exclaimed. You were so startled that you couldn’t even process how furious you were with Jeonghan for inviting him without informing you. “Hey, Seokmin. What’re you doing here?”

The older boy flashed a kind smile. “Sorry to intrude. Jeonghan invited me. I think he’s in the bathroom right now.” He pointed in the direction of where Jeonghan went, and then he said, “I had no idea you two were roommates!”

You recalled last week when you asked Jeonghan if demons had to use the bathroom like humans did. For some reason, you couldn’t imagine it at all. The demon answered that he didn’t have to do such things in his own dimension, but his body was subjected to the same biological system as humans on Earth.

“Ah, yes. Roommates.” You forced a laugh, trying to not sound bitter. So that was the narrative Jeonghan cooked up. Honestly, you were just glad he said something normal. “He didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

“Ah, speak of the devil,” Seokmin said.

Meanwhile, it was just Jeonghan. Well, on second thought, he was kind of right.

“What’re you doing at home?” the demon asked, sounding more accusatory than welcoming. “I thought you were getting lunch with your friend.”

“And we finished lunch,” you answered. “What’re you and Seokmin doing?”

“We were gonna watch a movie,” he said. “The Notebook, I think?”

Your anger fizzled. Now, you felt like you were interrupting something.

“Do you wanna watch it with us, Y/N?” Seokmin asked, voice all sugary and light.

You found it way too hard to refuse him, so you sat down on the couch next to Jeonghan. Every time Seokmin spoke, you felt your nerves ease up. However, coupled with Jeonghan’s presence, you were undergoing a never-ending state of easing and tensing up again.

“By the way, why’d you guys pick The Notebook?” you inquired.

“Oh, ‘cause Jeonghan hasn’t seen it yet,” Seokmin replied, looking distracted as the film started playing.

Jeonghan hadn’t seen a lot of movies. It wasn’t like there were limited options to choose from.

Thankfully, the lights were off while the movie played, masking how bored you looked for its duration. You were convinced Jeonghan wasn’t enjoying it either considering he started up about ten different conversations unrelated to the movie. Seokmin, being the sweetheart he was, responded to him enthusiastically as he watched. You, on the other hand, were sulking on the other side of the couch and praying for this to be over because you felt like a third wheel.

You almost didn’t notice the mood shift when the kissing scene came up. Seokmin seemed to feel a bit awkward, so he laughed and made lighthearted remarks throughout the scene. You had stiffened up and lowered your gaze, remembering once again why this was an odd choice for a movie night.

Jeonghan, though, turned his gaze to you for the duration of the scene. You could feel his eyes drift to your lips, and it made you hyperconscious of every little movement of his. Your heart was pounding so loudly that you were praying no one else could hear it, and the blood rushing in your ears drowned out the audio from the movie.

The demon dipped his head to whisper in your ear, “Frankly, human, I’m enjoying your reactions more than this movie.”

You had no idea why, but you felt something unsettling in your chest. Your heart felt like it was going a hundred miles a minute, but not in a good way; the organ twisted painfully in your chest.

You had no idea why.

Seokmin came around a few more times over the next four weeks. You found yourself feeling less like a third wheel over time, and you were finally comfortable hanging around the both of them. Movie nights became more common, although The Notebook seemed to be so traumatizing that Seokmin and Jeonghan only watched horror and sci-fi movies now.

You were honestly surprised that Jeonghan hadn’t made any moves to kill Seokmin, but you were happy that he honored your agreement. The two of you had gotten closer—or, well, as close as a demon and a human could get. He still called you “human,” but you were banking on him calling you by your name at least once. Moreover, Jeonghan wasn’t completely convincing just yet, but he was starting to learn how to act like a proper human. (There were the occasional murder threats that you had to fend off, though.)

Jeonghan found himself between your legs nearly every other day. You feared that you would get too comfortable, but he still made you orgasm every single time. It was strange, to say the least. You knew demons weren’t capable of feeling anything remotely romantic, but your heart was still acting like a fool, twisting painfully whenever he pulled away.

Today, Jeonghan had followed you to the library. He met your friend, Sooyoung, who kept gushing earlier about how she was dying to meet your new “friend.” The rest of the day went smoothly, save for Sooyoung asking you and Jeonghan if you’ve ever made out. (You shut her up with a smack upside her head.)

Back at home, Jeonghan, who was sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, leaned his head back to look up at you. You found it strangely endearing, resisting the urge to run your hands through his soft hair.

“Did I do good today?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, “you were like a proper human—no weird demonic antics or anything.”

Jeonghan lifted his head up again, and then asked in a quiet voice, “Human, could I perhaps try something?”

The demon was asking you for permission? Strange, but you went along with it.

“Hm? What is it?”

“Let me try kissing you,” he said. His words were so clear that you couldn’t even pass them off as something you misheard. You only managed to let out a few incoherent stammers before he added, “Move your laptop. I’m getting on top of you.”

“Y-you didn’t even ask me!” you stuttered, although you were putting your stuff to the side as you spoke. “Is this about what Sooyoung asked? About if we’ve made out?”

“I’m asking you right now: yes or no?”

You frowned. It was as if all your nerves were cut wire, electrifying every limb in your body. Even though you couldn’t comprehend what came over Jeonghan and what possessed him to ask, your brain was screaming at you to just accept his offer.

“Fine, go ahead,” you murmured, feeling your face go hot when he smirked right after.

“Good,” he said. “Thank you for being my experiment.”

You couldn’t ask any further questions because Jeonghan already started moving on top of you, straddling your lap and placing his hands firmly on either side of your face. You stared up at him, wide-eyed, until he leaned down and brushed his nose against yours experimentally.

He was so close. So close that you could feel his hot breath fanning your lips. So close that you could see the gold flecks in his dark eyes.

You shuddered. There was that twist of your heart once again.

You swore you could hear his breath hitch, and you almost called it out before a crevice started opening up in the center of your living room.

“What the fuck?” you shrieked, scrambling back against the arm of the couch and holding up one of the throw pillows to defend yourself. Jeonghan had gotten off of you and stood up, eyebrows knitted into a frown. It looked like he knew what was going on, so you asked, “What is it, Jeonghan?”

It was the same void of darkness from before—the same one that Jeonghan came from. The room was freezing this time, too, and the windows had iced over. You swallowed hard, wondering if this was one of your mistakes again. You hadn’t said or done anything this time, though, so it must have been someone here for Jeonghan.

From the wisps of smoke emerged the most beautiful man you had ever seen. Or, well, second after Jeonghan.

“Mammon, you bastard.” Second-Most Beautiful Man scowled. “If this is one of your conniving plots to escape Hell, then you will face punishment worse than being boiled alive for damnation.”

You looked to your right to see Jeonghan with his arms folded across his chest. Smiling.

“Asmodeus,” your demon greeted with coldness in his tone, “you planted that scrap of paper in my human’s book, didn’t you?”

Asmodeus’ glower slowly morphed into a wicked grin. “You don’t leave any room for entertainment, do you? I came here to drag you back, anyway, so don’t be so bitter.” His red, beady eyes shifted to you. “This must be your precious human.”

Jeonghan’s voice was deeper when he warned, “Don’t you dare lay a finger on her, Asmodeus.”

“Or what?” he mocked. “What could you possibly do to me in that pathetic human body of yours? Have you gone soft already? Your powers have weakened, Mammon. Face it. You’ll die out here—no, you’re already dying.”

“What do you want?” Jeonghan snapped. “If you want me dead, then you have no need to be here.”

“I need you alive,” Asmodeus muttered, “in your true form.”

He scoffed. “I’ll just die and be reborn.”

Reborn? You straightened up at Jeonghan’s words. Why didn’t he tell you he would be reborn? Here you were, like an idiot, worrying over his possible death.

“The other five princes are requesting to see you, so—”

“Oh, why should I give a damn about the other princes?” Jeognhan fussed. “They only care about using me for their trivial schemes!”

“Jeonghan,” you spoke up loudly, and both of the demon princes turned to you with shocked looks on their faces. “If I’m interpreting this correctly… then aren’t you being offered an easy way to get back? You should take it, right?”

“Human—”

“Oh, I forgot you go by your human name here,” Asmodeus said with a chuckle. He walked toward you and reached his hand out, smiling so wide that his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. You can call me Joshua, if that’s easier. I’m the demon prince of lust.”

“How do you know my name?” you asked, cautiously shaking his hand. You looked toward Jeonghan with a scowl. “Wait, how does he know my name and you didn’t?”

“My bad.”

“You’ve truly gone soft, Mammon,” Asmodeus observed. “You’re on Earth entertaining a human girl instead of doing your job back in Hell. Aren’t you the one who told the rest of us to be happy with what we’ve got in Hell?”

“My job,” Jeonghan corrected, “is rotting in Hell. My other job is taking care of my human.”

“Your allegiance is with the princes, Mammon,” Joshua hissed. “This human is insignificant—”

“Do not speak about my human with that filthy mouth of yours, Asmodeus,” Jeonghan interrupted sharply, his eyes darkening. “Tell me what you want from me and leave this place at once.”

“Pythius wants a seat with the Seven Princes.”

Jeonghan raised a brow. “He wants to rebrand to the Eight Princes? Doesn’t have as nice of a ring to it.”

“No, you idiot.” Joshua groaned. “He wants to overthrow one of the Seven Princes, which is why you need to come back. Greed must have a seat at the throne room of sins.”

“Tell him to go ahead. He can be boiled alive in my place.”

“You’re still on that? That was eons ago.” Joshua sighed. “Don’t be a fool, Mammon. If you die on Earth—sure, you’ll be reborn in Hell again, but you will still waste your time by dying on this planet.” He continued, “Think about how disastrous the situation would be if Pythius actually takes your place. You will be stripped of your title, your powers will weaken, and greed will no longer be one of the Seven Deadly Sins.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad, honestly.”

“Mammon,” Joshua growled. “Take this seriously. You’re acting like Belphegor with that flippant attitude of yours.”

“Ah, Belphegor.” Jeonghan turned to you with a light laugh. “I think you’d like him. He goes by Wonwoo here. Seriously, such a—”

“I will slice up each limb of that mortal body of yours, Mammon,” Joshua warned. “You’re not understanding the severity of this situation.”

“I understand it well enough now,” he replied. “So, you can leave. I’ll figure out what to do on my own. Either way, Mammon will be reborn as usual. Happy? Good, now get lost.”

Joshua sighed, frustrated. “Do you even have a way to get back, you fool?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Then I’ll be on my way,” Joshua said before his body started to tessellate out of existence, vanishing piece-by-piece into thin air. “I really hope you know what you’re doing, Mammon.”

You were the first to break the silence once the demon of lust disappeared, asking, “You’ll be reborn? So you never even had to worry about dying?”

“Demons can be killed, but they can’t die.”

“Oh, yeah, thanks. Really cleared things up for me with that.”

“Let’s just drop it.”

You couldn’t just drop it, though. “You weren’t actually imprisoned in Hell, were you?”

“I was. Sort of.” He paused. “Haven’t been for a while, to be honest.”

“Then why didn’t you go with Joshua? It doesn’t sound like he wants you back to throw you back in the lake.”

“I don’t want to be a pawn in their silly games anymore,” Jeonghan muttered darkly. “It’s infuriating.”

“Then what are you gonna do? That was the easiest way for you to get back!”

“I have time, human.” Jeonghan didn’t seem to want to be pressed further, so you backed off. “Don’t worry about me.”

He walked into your room and slammed the door shut, so you settled back into the couch and hugged the throw pillow to your chest. How could you not worry? You couldn’t understand Jeonghan at all, and although you wanted to respect his decision not to go back with Joshua, you were at a crossroads; staying here was killing him. He had far too much pride to think rationally.

Plus, the longer he stayed with you, the more it stung when you realized time was running out. Fast.

The next day, Jeonghan appeared as if he was back to normal. It was odd, though, given how he was brooding yesterday. You made a conscious effort not to mention Joshua, but you knew the topic was still weighing heavy on his shoulders.

(He was insatiable once you were awake and sitting up in bed, prying your legs open and begging you for a taste. Although you had several questions for the demon, your carnal desire overtook whatever curiosity you had.

“Feeling better?” you asked cautiously.

“I’ll feel better soon. Anyway, good morning,” he purred. “You’re dripping already, human. I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Your chest felt hot. “Yeah, yeah, just get to it.”

“My pleasure.”)

“Hey,” you called out later during breakfast. “I’m going out with Sooyoung tonight. Are you gonna be okay being alone at home?”

“Where are you going?” he asked instead.

You paused between your spoonfuls of cereal. “Uh, just a party.”

“I love parties,” Jeonghan said. “Will there be human sacrifices?”

You grimaced. Although your guardian demon was making impressive improvements on his transition to human life, there were still some flaws in his way of thinking. On the bright side, though, he made sure to pass his morbid comments by you before he tried them out in front of others.

“No, it’s a college party,” you replied. “The most deadly thing there will be alcohol and Old Spice.”

“Boring,” he mused before getting up from his seat and heading to the living room. “Well, be safe.”

You nearly choked on your cereal, completely forgetting to respond to his words. Did Jeonghan—Mammon, manifestation of greed, one of the Seven Princes of Hell—just tell you to be safe? You had to be hearing things.

Or, your heart offered, maybe some part of him cares about you—deep, deep down.

You pushed down the thought entirely, forcing yourself to think of other alternatives. After all, there was no possible way for a demon to feel those sorts of emotions.

It was almost midnight and Sooyoung was passed out on the couch.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” you said in dismay. “We literally just got here.”

“That’s tough,” Kim Mingyu, president of Sigma Omega Nu, replied sympathetically. “At least her boyfriend’s here to take care of her. That means you need to drink more and get on her level.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea.”

“Hey, that’s what college is for.”

You whined when Mingyu handed you a new cup of jungle juice. Normally, you didn’t accept drinks from strangers; Mingyu was harmless, though, and you two were well-established friends for a few years now. However, you were on your third cup of juice by now, and, if you kept it up, you were probably going to end up like Sooyoung. Since she was the one who drove you two here, though, you had to stay sober enough to find a ride home. No matter what happened, you were determined to not fall asleep on the musty frat house couch.

(It already happened once last year. You woke up the next morning to Kwon Soonyoung yelling, “Someone take a picture of Y/N sleeping on the couch I got laid on!”)

“I can’t get drunk,” you insisted. “I have to get home.” To make sure my pet demon is behaving, you wanted to add.

Mingyu let out a snicker. “Call someone to pick you up or I can ask one of the sober monitors to drop you off.”

You pondered for a moment. Technically, you could call Jeonghan. Now that he had gotten the hang of using his phone, you saw him texting Seokmin every once in a while. You were sure he would be able to pick up a call, as well.

“Fine, whatever. Hand it over.” You took the red solo cup from him and downed its contents—just under ten seconds, counted by Mingyu himself. “I’m gonna go call my friend before this starts hitting me.”

You walked out into the backyard where the music wasn’t as loud. The cool air hitting your flushed skin made you feel like you could breathe properly again, but you still weren’t walking nearly straight enough. With careful hands, you searched up Jeonghan’s number in your contacts.

Your phone rang three times before he picked up.

“Human? Are you dead?”

You frowned. “If I was dead, how would I be calling you?”

“I was hoping I could keep your soul around as my pet in Hell,” he said.

You must have had some sort of degradation kink by this point because that comment was not supposed to make you feel butterflies in your stomach. It was time for you to consider therapy.

You cut straight to the point. “Can you come to the party?”

“What? No.”

His refusal normally would’ve stung, but you were too tipsy to back down now. “Please? Sooyoung already passed out and her boyfriend’s taking care of her. I’m getting drunk all by myself now.”

Sort of an exaggeration. You were going to use every card up your sleeve.

“Then walk home.”

“I can’t. Home’s too far to walk.”

“Then sleep over at whoever’s house you’re at.”

“It’s a house full of frat boys. Their living conditions are probably worse than yours down in Hell.”

“Then sober up.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be my guardian demon?!”

“If you want an angel to come rescue you, I would try Seokmin’s number.”

You let out a groan and crouched down, letting your head hang between your knees. This was fruitless; Jeonghan was stubborn as a mule, and you were getting nowhere with this conversation.

But this wasn’t just about getting someone to take you home. You certainly had other options, so you could hang up on Jeonghan right now and find someone else to drive you back. However, you just didn’t want to admit out loud that you wanted to see Jeonghan. You wanted him to come over and take care of you, even though that was impossible for the demon.

You were just foolish.

“Fine, Jeonghan,” you snapped. Your head started to feel fuzzy, and you were quickly losing control over your own tongue. “I’ll get home all by myself. I’ll walk home in the cold, dark night, and hell, I’ll even walk on the road if I feel like it. Maybe I’ll lay down and take a nap if I get really tired, and if I can’t even make it to the door, I’ll just sleep in Mingyu’s bed—” You didn’t realize you were pacing until you hit a solid surface. “Ow—wait, what the hell?”

Jeonghan, in the flesh, sighed heavily and hung up the call in front of you. “Human, you’re really such a pain in the ass sometimes.”

“H-how’d you get here?” you asked, your cheeks starting to feel hot. “Did you teleport or whatever again? Didn’t you say that eats up your power? Are you—”

The demon clamped a hand over your mouth. “I materialized here, and yes, it eats up the little power I have left,” he whispered harshly, “but you wouldn’t stop running your mouth, so here I am. How could you get intoxicated so easily?”

“Well… I’ve been here for about an hour,” you defended. “It doesn’t take that much for me to get drunk. I’m pretty lightweight.”

“How much did you have?”

“Like, three cups of jungle juice.”

“Jungle… juice?”

You snorted. “This one’s got vodka, rum, and fruit punch. It’s pretty good.”

“Three cups?” Jeonghan asked with a scoff. “I forget that humans have such weak tolerances for alcohol. I can drink eight bottles of wine without getting drunk.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenged. You dragged the demon inside the frat house, not giving him the chance to take in and process his surroundings. You poured him a cup of jungle juice in the kitchen and handed it to him. “Drink up, then.”

Jeonghan raised a brow at you before chugging down the liquid like water. He handed it back to you with a light smirk playing on his lips.

“Are you sure there’s even alcohol in this concoction?” he asked, barking out a laugh. “Human, you’re too cute. This is nothing for a powerful demon like…” he trailed off, looking down at his feet and letting out a soft exhale. “My chest feels hot.”

Your hand flew up to cover your mouth, stopping yourself from bursting out into laughter. This sight was absolutely priceless. You didn’t think you would ever be able to see Jeonghan so vulnerable.

“Are you drunk off one cup of jungle juice?” you asked, and, at this point, you weren’t able to stifle your laughter. “Oh my god!”

“Shut up, human,” he grumbled. He blinked a few times and held onto the edge of the counter. “I’ve never felt this way before. My body isn’t used to having a human’s biological system.”

“Whoa, this guy is fucked,” Lee Chan retorted, showing up out of nowhere. “He’s talking like something out of I, Robot.”

You rolled your eyes at his pop culture reference, but Jeonghan didn’t seem to follow at all. For all the movies he and Seokmin had been watching, you were surprised that they didn’t get around to this one.

“Robot,” Jeonghan mumbled, moving to lean against you. You grabbed his arm and tried to hold him steady, but he just wrapped his arms around you and let his head rest on your shoulder. “I feel like I’ve just been expelled into the Outerverse with Yog-Sothoth. Ah, fuck, those guys owe me…”

You had to get Jeonghan out of here fast. Before he started speaking crazy demon lingo again.

“Are you sober monitoring tonight?” you asked Chan. “You think you could drive us home?”

“Yeah, sure,” Chan agreed with a smile. Gauging that Jeonghan wasn’t responsive enough to answer any questions, the frat boy decided to ask you, “Did you bring a friend from another school, Y/N?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” you mumbled. “This is Jeonghan.”

Chan ducked his head to get a good look at Jeonghan’s face. “Nice to meet you, Jeonghan.”

“Hi, Robot.”

“No, my name’s not Robot.”

Jeonghan’s biggest weakness wound up being seatbelts.

You and Chan had to fight him down to get him to sit down properly in the back seat. Since he was fussing too much, you decided to sit with Chan up front, letting Jeonghan moan and grumble incoherently in the back.

(“Unchain me, human,” the demon kept whining. “I refuse to be imprisoned in the mortal realm.”

When he was stopped at a red light, Chan threw a glance over his shoulder before telling you, “I think your friend watches too much anime.”

“He’s going through a phase,” you lied.)

While you made light conversation with the frat brother, you felt like your guardian demon was glaring daggers at the poor boy. You wanted to smack him upside the head for his rudeness despite Chan’s generous act.

You craned your neck to look back at Jeonghan, shooting him a warning look. He simply scoffed and looked the other way, although he ended up resting his head against the window once he realized his world was still spinning.

“Come on, Jeonghan,” you murmured once Chan parked the car in front of your place. “Get up.”

“Don’t wanna.”

You tugged the sleeve of his shirt impatiently. “What? Why?”

“Not going back with someone who ignores me.”

Your jaw nearly went slack. Was he jealous? Yoon Jeonghan, Prince of Greed, was jealous over frat boy Lee Chan? Over something so miniscule as you sitting in the passenger’s seat? This was definitely something you were going to hold over the demon’s head for as long as you could.

“I’m not ignoring you, okay?” you tried. “Come back home with me, and you’ll have my full attention.”

Jeonghan hesitated before he let out a begrudged grumble. “Fine.”

You and Chan hauled the drunken demon to his feet, taking one of his arms and throwing it over your shoulders so that you could help him walk. Chan assisted you by slinging Jeonghan’s other arm over his shoulder, but you still found it hard to walk properly with Jeonghan’s head lolling to the side. His face was so close that you could feel his hot breath against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“You smell so good, human,” he murmured. Jesus, he was saying all this while Chan was still here? You were glad that Jeonghan couldn’t tell how flustered you were, but it was probably evident to Chan. “What perfume is that?”

“This guy sure does call you ‘human’ a lot,” Chan observed with a light laugh.

“Uh, yeah, inside joke,” you explained quickly. “Let’s just get him to the couch.”

Once you and Chan let Jeonghan’s heavy body drop onto the couch, you walked the frat boy to the door. He stuffed his hands deep in his pockets, a shy smile playing on his lips. He looked at you expectantly, like he was waiting for a tip or something. You were considering handing him the crumpled-up five dollars you left in your back pocket.

“We should hang out sometime, Y/N,” he started. “I feel like I barely see you around the house anymore.”

“Oh, yeah, I haven’t been in a partying mood lately,” you explained, “but I’ll try to drop by more.”

“Alright. I’ll see you around.”

Before you could respond, a voice from behind you loudly interjected, “Bye.” With that, Jeonghan slammed the door shut with one hand.

“That was rude,” you said.

“Can I gut him like a fish?”

“That’s even more rude. Please don’t.”

“Whatever.”

You looked back at Jeonghan, who had one hand against the door that was right beside your head. “What’s your deal? He was nice enough to drive you back and help you to the couch.”

“Why do you keep ignoring me?” he asked, proceeding to ignore you at the same time.

“I-I’m not ignoring you!” you stammered. “I’m the one who helped you get back to the apartment!”

He had you backed up against the door, looking up at him with worry knitting your brows together. Jeonghan let his head drop to lay on your shoulder, leaving you frozen in place. You figured it was the alcohol rushing to his head, but you couldn’t help the fact that your heart was pounding in your chest.

“Human,” he mumbled against your collarbone, “why can’t you just stay by my side?”

“Huh? But—”

“I wanna be human, too.”

The words sounded strange coming from him. Almost like he was at his tipping point. Tender. Raw. Vulnerable. You were absolutely dumbfounded by what you had just heard. With no coherent response coming to mind, all you could do was raise your hand to gently thread through his soft strands of hair.

“Let’s get you to bed,” you replied softly, letting the demon stay in your embrace as you walked him back to your bedroom. He looked up at you quizzically when you sat him down on the edge of your bed. “It’s about time you stopped sleeping on the floor. I’ll take the couch, so—”

You cut yourself off when Jeonghan wrapped his arms around your legs and pressed his lips to your thighs. “Stay here with me.”

You stared ahead, straight at the wall, a dull ache throbbing in your chest. “What are you doing, Jeonghan?”

“What?”

“Why are you doing this to me?” you asked. “You only have months left to live. You should’ve just gone back with Joshua.”

He stiffened. “I didn’t want to.”

“Yeah, I guess you’ll just be reborn, anyway,” you muttered. “You never had anything to worry about to begin with.”

Jeonghan suddenly pulled away from you, his eyes cold as ice. Since he was always docile around you, there was never any reason for you to feel scared around the demon. However, the look he was giving you left you backing up slowly from him.

“I’d rather stay dead than be reborn,” Jeonghan said, “and I wouldn’t feel so agonized about it if I didn’t have to meet you.”

Tears pricked your eyes. You felt a lump rising in your throat, and you felt the hot, salty tears hitting your feet before you even realized you had started to cry. It took all of your willpower to keep the waterworks at bay. The demon’s cruel words were never supposed to get under your skin this bad. You held him at arm’s length for that very reason.

Maybe, all this time, you had been pulling him closer unintentionally.

“You think nothing hurts for me just because I’m a demon,” he continued, “but it stings every time you try to chase me away.”

“I’m not trying to chase you away.”

“Then why do you keep pushing me to go back to Hell?” he asked. You couldn’t exactly read his expression, but it was clear that Jeonghan felt tormented. The pain in his eyes was telling of that. “Why did you want me to go back with Asmodeus?”

You huffed. “I really don’t understand you. You don’t want to die and be reborn, but you don’t want to go to Hell either? Aren’t you going to die if you stay here?”

“You don’t get it.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to be reborn because I lose all my memories of the mortal world. I lose all my memories of you.”

“And you don’t want to go to Hell because…”

“The only reason you summoned me was because of Asmo—I mean, Joshua’s—need for pointless entertainment. Surely, with what’s been going down in Hell ever since I left, they won’t let me leave again until Pythius is quelled. That could take hundreds or thousands of years.” Jeonghan scoffed, shaking his head. “Pythius… one of the most fearsome and hideous demons. There’s no telling what he’d do for a seat with the Seven Princes.”

“I’m sure if I go back, he would try to kill me over and over again,” he continued, “because he detests me the most. That group of them—the Malebranche—they might be more sadistic than Lucifer himself.”

You frowned. “What’d you do to him?”

“Why do you assume I did something to him?” Jeonghan scowled.

“Because you’re the demon prince of greed,” you replied. “I’m sure you pissed him off somehow.”

He snorted. “Pythius rules the eighth circle where frauds are punished. He hates nothing more than the greed that consumes those humans. Of course he’d loathe the demon that represents the very sin.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you act that greedy here, though. Are you different when you’re down there?”

The dark glint in Jeonghan’s eyes nearly went undetected. You only managed to catch it because of the way his smile dropped in tune. His normally easygoing expression was replaced with the same serious look he wore when Joshua was around.

“I haven’t been this greedy in eons, human.”

You tried to think back to when Jeonghan had acted in such a way. Sure, there were the multiple times he gave you (mind-blowing) head and the time he asked you for the newest iPhone, but those didn’t seem as drastic to you. You expected the very demon of greed to be more selfish.

“Really?” You forced out a stilted laugh. “I think you’re about as greedy as a toddler, like, in a bratty way, but that’s it.”

Jeonghan stood up.

You took notice of his broad shoulders before, but now you felt swamped under his gaze. He towered over you with ease, looking down at you with a storm brewing in his eyes. There were no words exchanged at first, but one look at the demon told you that whatever he was experiencing was far too human for him to understand fully.

“I’m so greedy that I would let the hierarchy in Hell fall to shambles because of you,” he started. “I would abandon my seat and let Pythius take control just so I can stay here with you. I would rather wither away on Earth instead of going back to Hell where I can’t see you again. I would let Alastor, the chief executioner, torture me over and over again until the ache in my heart finally goes away—the ache you caused.”

His next words were no louder than a weak whisper when he grabbed your forearms and said, “I’m so greedy that I wanna just give up everything for you, Y/N.”

With that, Jeonghan muttered something about sleeping on the couch before he walked out of your room and shut the door. That was the first time he had ever called you by your name; yet, it didn’t even make you feel happy. The first salty tear hit the floorboards, then the next, then more. You could only watch the demon leave in silence, finally letting yourself cry once he was out of sight.

Crying because you didn’t want him to leave. Crying because your feelings were already running too deep.

Crying because you knew a botched confession when you heard one.

Just as you were about to settle in bed, burrow yourself in the sheets and sob until you fell asleep, you heard Jeonghan’s footsteps coming back from the living room. You had no time to regain your composure when he flung open the door, his eyes stony and his lips pulled down in a frown.

“I can’t sleep if you’re crying like this,” he murmured, walking over to cup your face with his large hands. “That’s foul play.”

He kissed you.

The motion was swift—a gentle grab of your jaw and tilt of your chin, and Jeonghan was kissing away your disquiet with surprising tenderness.

Temptation.

Temptation was the utmost desire that demons could draw from mortals, but you weren’t quite sure this was it. Jeonghan’s kiss felt different—more intimate. His lips moved against yours with hesitance at first, and he only deepened it once you reciprocated. It felt like he wasn’t trying to pull you closer; rather, he was waiting for you to find him.

Once you two were lost in desperate kisses and heavy breaths, Jeonghan jerked away with a light gasp. You stared at him, dazed, before he grabbed your wrist and pressed your hand firmly against his chest. At first, you weren’t quite sure what he was having you do, but the realization was a slap in the face.

A heartbeat.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

It was fast, like he had just run a marathon. You looked up at the demon quizzically, but he was already pulling away. Your hand hung in the air before dropping to your side, registering too late that he had already let go.

“You think nothing hurts me,” he mumbled. This time, he had his own hand flat against his chest. “I torture myself every day like this because I know, deep down, there’s no happy ending for us.” The demon’s eyes, normally masked with golden brown irises, glowed a dim red.

It started drizzling outside. Soft pattering of rain that drowned out the silence.

Everything would fall apart—slowly, gently, inevitably. Jeonghan, too, would eventually become nothing but a ghost of a raindrop that once streaked your window.

Post-party hangovers always called for breakfast at The Veranda. It became a tradition between you and Sooyoung to go there after a night of partying. That, or you two would skip straight to lunch and get pho. There was no telling when either of you would wake up the next morning.

Today, however, Sooyoung texted you early enough.

“We should get cocktails,” she suggested while looking down the menu.

“You already blacked out last night, you crazy bitch.”

To be frank, you had ulterior motives for this outing. For one, you wanted to get out of the house because the tension between you and Jeonghan was making you suffocate. The other reason was because you wanted to consult Sooyoung with your problems.

You started with, “So, there’s this guy,” and your best friend was already at the edge of her seat. Once you finished giving her the rundown (which only concluded after you ordered your food and were halfway done with your herb roasted chicken sandwich), Sooyoung paused to think, which stretched into about five minutes. More than enough time for you to finish your sandwich.

“I don’t get what the problem is,” Sooyoung finally said, tilting her head curiously. “If you two like each other, then just ask him out.”

If only it were that easy, you thought to yourself, but you couldn’t spare her the details of how impossible the situation was. You weren’t in the mood to hear “if he wanted to, he would” when you were dealing with a guardian demon who was literally dying in the mortal world.

You hesitated. “Let’s just say that he’s not exactly available right now.”

“He has a girlfriend?” Sooyoung asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. She looked ready to start telling you off for being a homewrecker, so you had to clarify immediately.

“No, no, he’s single,” you said. “He’s just not… emotionally available to date.”

“So, he’s been getting all close to you without wanting to date you.”

“Uh, not really? He’s just—”

“Cut him off, Y/N.”

“What?” you asked, eyes widening. You figured the situation sounded bad from an outsider’s perspective, but there was no way for you to break it down without explaining that Jeonghan’s your guardian demon from Hell that ended up being trapped on Earth because of your statistics midterm and demonic intervention from Joshua, the other oddball from Hell. “I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can,” Sooyoung replied. “It’ll hurt at first, but you’ll get over it eventually.”

“But he’s…” you trailed off, wondering how the fuck you were going to defend a demon prince of greed. You settled with saying, “He’s funny.”

“So are clowns, Y/N. You don’t see me asking out Ronald McDonald.”

“Okay, it’s not that simple, Sooyoung!” you cried out. “It’s more like… he doesn’t have that much time left here.”

“Oh.” She sounded lost at first, but the confused look on her face was slowly replaced with somber understanding. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“No, you’re good. I didn’t know how to say it.”

“Well, if that’s the case,” she said, “why don’t you just make the most of the time you have left with him?”

Sooyoung’s words hadn’t left your mind ever since breakfast. Even after she dropped you off at your apartment, you were still replaying the conversation in your head.

You thought about it in the shower.

You thought about it while doing your homework.

And you continued to think about it when Jeonghan was spreading your legs apart later that day.

“Didn’t we just fight?” you asked, your voice unnaturally high. Despite your words, you came to realize that you were sort of feral when it came to your sex life. A little fight was just a chip on your shoulder.

“That was a fight?” Jeonghan asked. “I’ve been in fights before. They’re pretty gruesome. Usually some heads roll or someone gets disemboweled.”

“A verbal fight,” you clarified.

“I’ve been in verbal fights before, too. They usually end with someone getting stabbed.”

“Okay, well, that’s not a verbal fight.” You sighed. “I mean, aren’t you upset with me? You were acting like being around me was hurting you.”

Jeonghan looked down and went completely silent.

“Hello?” you called. Did you break him?

Jeonghan looked back up. This time, his cheeks were tinged scarlet red. Your eyes went wide at the sight of the demon fully blushing over your words. You were definitely adding this bullet point to the Blackmail on Jeonghan folder you kept in your Notes app.

“I let my emotions get the best of me, okay?” he mumbled. “Let's just drop it.”

You, however, were brimming with questions. “Hey, but you let me feel your heartbeat last night,” you started. “Did you always have a heart?”

Jeonghan pulled away to look at you with distaste dawning on his face. “Did I always have a heart? Of course I’ve always had a heart, human. How would I be giving you the head of your life if I was a corpse?”

Your demon was gradually evolving to develop a filthy mouth. You weren’t sure if this was improvement or regression.

“You have a human heart and you can feel human emotions,” you said. “What makes you and I so different, then?”

Jeonghan opened his mouth, but before he could speak, there was a knock at the door. You glanced at Jeonghan suspiciously, wondering if he invited Seokmin without your knowledge, but even he looked clueless. There was no one you were expecting, so you wondered if it was just the UPS guy dropping off a package.

When you opened your door though, it was indeed Seokmin, and he was pissed.

You had never seen him like this, with his nostrils flaring and his skin flushed red. It was almost as if steam was coming out of his own ears. But there was something very glaring about Seokmin that had you gawking at him.

His wings were on full display.

Snowy white wings fanned out behind him. You could hear a low, angelic hum faintly resounding from the feathers. You were in shock for a moment, unsettled and overwhelmed by the heavenly light that Seokmin was bathing in.

It seemed to have an even worse effect on Jeonghan. You noticed how he flinched at the sight, backing up slowly.

“Get back, Y/N,” Seokmin ordered. “I know this is gonna sound crazy, but your roommate’s dangerous.”

You wondered if he had some unexplainable power over you because your actions were going against your words as you found yourself stumbling away from the two. “Seokmin, don’t do this,” you begged.

He frowned. “What?”

But Jeonghan got his words in before you could. “Looks like the both of us figured it out before you did. You just found out you’re a Quartarion, huh?”

He was jeering, like he was taunting the angel to attack him. You couldn’t understand what the demon was thinking when he was clearly overpowered right now. Even if Seokmin wasn’t a pureblood angel, Jeonghan’s powers had considerably weakened ever since he entered the mortal realm.

“How…” Seokmin was shocked for a moment, straightening up and glowering down at you. “How did you know?”

“You found out recently, didn’t you? Mommy or daddy told you they were half, which meant you’re quarter—weaker than them,” Jeonghan pressed. “They kept it from you all this time, huh? Because your angelic presence wasn’t strong enough to be a threat, but then you started glowing brighter.”

“Jeonghan, enough!” you yelled, trying to mediate whatever was happening. You had no idea what Seokmin was going to do, but it definitely didn’t seem like he was here for another movie night.

“Mammon,” Seokmin said through gritted teeth. “That’s your real name, right?” Suddenly, the angel turned on you with an accusatory stare. “And you—how did you know about all of this? Did he tell you?”

You gulped before starting slowly, “Look, I accidentally summoned Jeonghan from my statistics textbook the day before you met him at the Olive Garden.”

Seokmin tilted his head, looking utterly puzzled. None of those words were in the Bible.

“I knew he was a demon,” you continued, “and he told me you were an angel. He could sense it, or something like that.”

“Oh,” Seokmin replied rather sadly, as if he had just discovered he had been the brunt of a joke all along. “Well, I’m sorry you were caught up in this Y/N, but I have to kill your roommate before he hurts anyone else.”

“Whoa, hold on—he hasn’t hurt anyone!” you cried, holding onto Seokmin’s shoulder to keep him from charging at Jeonghan. “You’re an angel; you can’t kill him!”

“Technically, he can,” Jeonghan noted as he just barely avoided the angel grabbing him. “Some angels are specifically assigned to keep demons away from humans. I think Seokmin’s just mad, though.”

“I’m not just mad,” Seokmin spat, although he was visibly seething. “I just feel stupid that I befriended someone who was trying to kill me this whole time!”

You turned your gaze to Jeonghan, who held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’ll admit I might have had murderous intentions at first, but come on! You would be dead by now if I really wanted to kill you.”

“You can’t kill him, Seokmin,” you repeated in a desperate attempt. “You owe him!”

Now the angel was lost. “And how exactly do I owe him?”

“Remember when your card declined, and I bought you that croissant on campus last week?” you tried. As soon as the words came out, you heard a loud groan from Jeonghan, and you were sure he was pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. “You owe me, who owes Jeonghan, so you owe Jeonghan!”

Seokmin was even more lost. “What?”

“Transitive property of equality: A equals B equals C, so A equals C.”

“There’s no way you’re actually applying the transitive property of equality to this situation.”

“And what exactly do you owe me for?” Jeonghan chimed in, equally as confused.

“Yeah, I can’t believe I’m agreeing with him on this one, but he’s a demon, Y/N,” Seokmin said. “If you feel like you owe him anything, it’s likely you were manipulated by him.”

“No, I wasn’t!” you protested before the demon could object himself. “I owe him because…”

You trailed off, wondering how you were going to string your feelings into comprehensible words. They were all a mess of jumbled vowels and consonants in your head, holding no significant weight until you thought long and hard, feeling it get heavier and heavier on your tongue.

The angel raised a brow. “Because what?”

Letters unfurling in your head. Piecing themselves together. You felt like your head was going to explode until you blurted out, “Because he showed me what love feels like.”

You looked over at Jeonghan to see him staring at you like a deer caught in headlights. He looked helpless at the moment, wild with pain, like he had let down all lines of defense at your declaration. A scarlet red blush stained his cheeks, and it was perhaps the single most human expression you had ever seen from him.

Seokmin moved forward, and an agonized scream tore itself from your throat before you could even think. His sudden movement chilled your blood, and all you could think about was how you needed to protect your guardian demon before he was struck by the angel.

And so you did.

Confession time: you kicked an angel in the balls.

You were pretty sure that was a one-way ticket to Hell.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” you kept repeating to a defeated Seokmin, who was now laying on the couch with pain drawn all over his face. “My fight response has been kicking in a lot more lately.”

“I wasn’t gonna hurt him,” he explained weakly. “My foot was just cramping up.”

“So you won’t kill Jeonghan?” you asked, brimming with hope.

“I… I don’t know,” he answered. “Jeonghan’s a demon, Y/N. Just because you have feelings for him doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of manipulating those emotions out of you.”

“He’s as good as human, Seokmin.”

“Y/N,” Jeonghan started, but you shook your head.

“I’m right!” you insisted. “Jeonghan has a heart, and it beats; I’ve felt it myself.” The two men were silent, so you continued, “He can’t handle alcohol at all; he’s more lightweight than I am. He likes building lego sets. He likes the rain, and he said it’s because that means an angel’s crying, but it’s really because he loves the way the Earth smells after rainfall. He likes coffee, but he always pours me some first before he takes any. You think he’d have the vocabulary of a Victorian man, but he knows more slang than I do. He… Jeonghan wants to be human. Isn’t that enough for you?”

Silence hung in the air. You wondered if you overstepped for a moment, aired out too much of his business, but then you could visibly see Seokmin at war with himself. You could see the internal battle in his eyes, fighting to believe in whatever the angels had instructed him to do.

He narrowed his eyes at the demon and asked in a calmer voice, “You swear you won’t kill me?”

“I swear on God.”

“You’re a demon. Swear on something else.”

“Um, okay… I swear on, uh, Y/N.”

“Please don’t swear on me,” you muttered, looking at your feet nervously as if the ground was going to swallow you whole.

Seokmin closed his eyes, exhaling loudly. “So, when did you stop wanting to kill me?”

“Y/N and I had a deal that I wouldn’t kill you in exchange for—”

You slapped a hand over the demon’s mouth immediately, successfully muffling the next words that decided to slip from his lips. It felt like your face was burning from how embarrassed you were. While Jeonghan shot you a confused look and tried to lick your palm to get it to budge, you exclaimed, “That detail isn’t important!”

“Anyway,” Jeonghan continued once you finally removed your hand, “I guess… part of me started enjoying those movie nights. Kinda hard to discuss the endings after you kill your friend, right?”

You could see Seokmin visibly soften, the fondness returning to his eyes. “You’re telling the truth.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“You can tell?” you inquired, wondering if it was some sort of angelic ability he had recently acquired.

“Yeah, I’ve always had some sort of sixth sense about these things,” Seokmin said, although you weren’t quite sure about this because you and Jeonghan had lied to him on numerous occasions. “I was only able to tap into it after I saw my wings for the first time.”

You then wondered if the longing etched bone-deep in Jeonghan’s face was also real.

It took a couple of hours for you and Jeonghan to explain everything to Seokmin, from beginning to end. You had to start from how you accidentally summoned him, which seemed to entertain the both of them, and you had to scold them both to take the situation seriously. Then, Jeonghan explained his side of the story, detailing how he didn’t have much time left because his mortal body was weak. 

“What do we do now, then?” Seokmin asked, sitting up straight now. “You’re gonna die if you stay here, right?”

“That’s why he wanted to kill an angel,” you said, “but now we don’t have a game plan.”

The three of you sat in silence for several minutes, letting the situation sink in. Your nerves were still buzzing from your earlier confession, still unanswered by Jeonghan, but you knew it wasn’t the time to dwell on that. There were more important matters at hand, but no one knew what to do.

Jeonghan sighed. “It’s fine. I’ve already accepted that I’m going to die here and be reborn in Hell.”

“You think that’s fair to Y/N? Or me?” Seokmin burst out. “You’re basically telling us to watch you die, dude.”

“You think I wanted this outcome?” he snapped. “No, I didn’t think I was going to actually enjoy living in this realm! I didn’t think I was gonna fall in love with my human! I didn’t think mortals had such excellent marketing strategies!”

Seokmin’s eyes went wide. “You…”

“Jeonghan,” was all you could say, and his name came out no louder than a whisper.

“What?!”

“You said you love me.” 

You looked toward Seokmin for confirmation, who answered with a quiet nod—an indication that not only had you heard it correctly, but Jeonghan was telling the truth.

To be honest, you were quite embarrassed that this was all coming to light in front of Lee Seokmin. He seemed very out of place in this otherwise tender moment. Yet, you were filled with inexplicable happiness and absolute dread simultaneously.

Once the grief settled, you were born again. Newfound confidence rising up your throat. You were determined to do whatever it took to mortalize Jeonghan.

“Oh, right.” The demon sounded nervous—enough to make you nervous. He simply stared at you for a moment before brushing the proclamation off with a wave. “Anyway…”

“Jeonghan!”

He shot you a withering look, glaring you down with every fiber of his being. “Seokmin is right there. Do you really wanna do this right now?” he whispered in an exasperated tone, turning his back to his friend so that he could converse with you. Although Jeonghan was lecturing, you were enjoying the way his blush rose to his cheeks. “We can talk about this after he leaves.”

“Okay, fine,” you agreed. “Why’d you have to blurt out a confession while he was here?”

“You did the same thing!”

“I can still hear you guys,” Seokmin reminded unhelpfully.

Somehow, Jeonghan took this as an opportunity to continue to chastise you. “See? This is all because you can’t keep quiet.”

“I can’t keep quiet?” You knew this was not the time nor place to bicker with your guardian demon, but he was an expert at getting on your nerves. “You’re the one who speaks in crazy demon lingo wherever we go!”

He scoffed. “I don’t speak in crazy demon lingo, human.”

“Yeah? Tell that to Chan. Poor guy had to witness your drunk ass going on about the Yog Sloth owing you or whatever.”

Jeonghan stammered and did a double take, looking at you like you had just kicked him square in the chest. “Wait… what did you just say?”

“Uh, Chan—”

“No, the other thing.”

“The Yog Sloth?”

“Yog Sloth,” he echoed, and then something clicked. “Yog-Sothoth? Wait, the Outer Gods—oh my god! They do owe me!” he all but yelled, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. “Y/N, you’re a genius!”

Seokmin’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “What’d she even do?” he asked, and you were glad you were on the same page as him.

“Yeah, what’d I do? Who the hell are the Outer Gods?”

For the next thirty minutes, Jeonghan went on to explain how billions of years ago, the most powerful beings of all creation, that rivaled even God Himself, were ruling over the universe. Before space and time was Azathoth—chaos. Azathoth even tried to disrupt the beginning of God’s Creation by starting a war. Each blow delivered from both God and Azathoth caused a rippling effect, creating infinite multiverses that were birthed from the clashing between darkness and light.

There was a period in time when the angels and demons had to side together for once to seal away the Outer Gods. Although they were no match for these cosmic beings, God was able to lock them in the Outerverse, where they have been slumbering ever since.

The key that locked away the Outer Gods had been missing for several millennia, but it happened to end up in the hands of Mammon and Belphegor. Mammon had the clever idea of reshaping the artifact into a human hand and hiding it in a fiery lake in Hell. It was called the Right Hand of Doom, but it hadn’t been touched ever since its reform.

“You reshaped a key of cosmic importance into a hand,” you summarized in disbelief. “That key has the power to doom all of our existences, and you turned it into a human hand.”

“You know, Belphegor had the same reaction after I created it,” Jeonghan said. “Actually, let me give him a call to fetch it for me.”

“Wait!” Seokmin exclaimed. “That key could wake the Outer Gods from their slumber. What are you planning on doing with it? Are you seriously considering using the Outerverse?”

“No, Seokmin, I’m gonna use it as a back scratcher.”

“Don’t get me wrong; I do want you to stay here, but this is extremely dangerous. It’s a really selfish decision, Jeonghan.”

“I’m literally the Prince of Greed.”

“Jeonghan, no matter how much I want you to become human and stay with me, this is just… it’s just crazy,” you said. “What if it goes completely wrong? What if you’re trapped in the Outerverse and killed by the Outer Gods?”

“Listen,” Jeonghan started. “When I first created the Right Hand of Doom, I was contacted by Yog-Sothoth himself—Azathoth’s grandson.”

“How did he contact you if he’s imprisoned?” you asked.

“These gods have their ways the same way demons do,” Jeonghan explained. “It’s kept on the down-low, but there are numerous worshippers of theirs that seek out ways to release them. None of them are ever successful, though.”

He continued, “Anyway, Yog-Sothoth isn’t as cruel as the others. He’s actually quite generous when he deems someone worthy, and I guess he thought I was that person when I refashioned the Right Hand of Doom. Millions of years ago, I helped the Outer Gods out by bringing them sacrifices to empower them, so they’re in my debt.”

Seokmin's face soured. “Why’d you bring them sacrifices?”

“Dunno. I was bored.”

“Let me get this straight,” you spoke up. “So, you’re gonna risk your life over the slight chance that you could be turned human?”

Jeonghan’s dark eyes pierced yours, as if he was saying, Look at me. Look at how far I’d go for you.

“Relax.” He cracked a smile. “It’s not like I’m going to the Outerverse myself. I just need the Right Hand of Doom to communicate with Yog-Sothoth across our realms. Even if he rejects my bargain, I doubt he’d try to crush me to a pulp from his prison.”

“If that’s all there is to it,” Seokmin started, a smile creeping to his face, “then I don’t see why we shouldn’t try.”

Jeonghan left the room momentarily to contact Belphegor, Prince of Sloth. He hadn’t exactly disclosed how he was going to summon the demon, but he returned with a scowl on his face, shaking his head as he explained that Belphegor was too lazy to retrieve the Right Hand of Doom at the moment. You and Seokmin asked when he would return, but even Jeonghan didn’t have an exact answer.

“Give me a call whenever he decides to show up,” Seokmin said before he went back to his apartment. You could tell that he was still shaken up from finding out that his friend had been a demon all this time, but you were glad that they were both being civil for now.

However, there were now other issues at hand. As soon as Seokmin left your apartment, you realized that the tension between you and Jeonghan couldn’t even be cut by a blade. To your surprise, your guardian demon was the first to mention it.

“You love me,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. It was like he was trying to wrap his head around the concept, trying to make sure it was real.

“I do,” you said bravely, “and you love me, I think. Seokmin seemed to believe it was true, and he’s an angel, so…”

“I think I do.” He looked pained. “These feelings are really confusing. I feel like I can’t breathe sometimes. You have a way of making me feel like I’m at the top of the world sometimes, but sometimes I feel like I’ve hit rock bottom.”

You understood that completely. When you and Jeonghan had your good moments together, you felt like you were soaring. However, when you were reminded about how little time he had left on Earth, you wanted to shut out the rest of the world and hide.

“We can figure it out together,” you told him, reaching forward to grab his hand and squeeze it.

Jeonghan’s eyes always looked different to you, like melted amber. They held many millennia of age and experience, so it felt like Jeonghan was unfazed by most aspects of life he encountered. Nothing could make the man falter.

But now, with evident panic in his eyes, newfound confidence surged through your blood that compelled you to get on your tip-toes and press a chaste kiss to his lips. It was a seemingly tame sign of affection, so you were thrown off when Jeonghan quietly slid a finger past the hem of your jeans. With his head dipped, the demon looked at you through his long, feathery lashes.

“Are you… are you hungry?” you stammered out.

“No,” he mumbled, raising his head to meet your eyes with his expectant ones. “Two people who like each other… Normally, this would lead to dating, wouldn’t it?” When you nodded, he continued, “How about it, then?”

“How about what?”

“Let’s go out.”

Your mind went blank for a moment. With how straightforwardly he said it, you would have thought Jeonghan was messing with your head, trying to push your buttons by teasing you. But his face looked determined this time, like he actually meant it. You could see the red glow of his eyes as he waited for an answer.

You blinked. “Like, as boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Yes, as boyfriend and girlfriend,” Jeonghan confirmed, exasperated. He gripped your hand tighter, as if he was getting his feelings across with a gentle squeeze. “Like Hallie and Noah.”

“It’s Allie.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He scoffed, surprisingly tender in the way he cupped your cheeks and pulled you closer. You were still a bundle of nerves, but something about Jeonghan made you feel secure. Quite the opposite of how you theoretically should feel around a demon. “Hey,” he tried again, his voice no louder than murmur, “I wanna kiss you.”

You smiled. “Then do it already.”

And so he did.

Jeonghan had kissed you before, but it was nothing like this. It seemed so urgent before, like you both knew you were running out of time. This time, though, he was slow, taking his time to memorize the shape of your lips as he moved his mouth against yours. You felt his long lashes tickle your cheeks, and it almost made you giggle, so you had to pull back to regain your composure. Jeonghan looked down at you, chest heaving even though the kiss was nothing but gentle.

“Again,” you pleaded.

Immediately, his current expression turned cocky. The corner of Jeonghan’s mouth lifted in amusement, and he kissed you not-so-gently this time. He pulled your body flush against his, and you reciprocated by wrapping your arms around his neck. The moment he slid his tongue past your lips, you heard a soft groan from Jeonghan that made your knees buckle under you.

Jeonghan held your waist with one hand and the back of your head with the other. Even though you were still standing on two feet, you were sure that he could hold you up, anyway. He gripped you like he never wanted to let you go.

“You taste good,” he mumbled against your lips.

“You taste like… coffee.” You made a face and let a giggle slip.  

“Well, it’s a good thing you like coffee.”

“Not when I’m tasting it secondhand.”

“You know, a minute ago, I wanted to fuck you properly,” he said. “Now, I’m just miffed. Slightly turned on, but still miffed.”

“Fuck me properly?” you asked, sort of embarrassed by how high your voice got. You inched closer, allowing Jeonghan’s finger to toy with the waistband of your underwear. In return, you placed your hand flat against his abdomen, moving it down slowly until you reached his crotch. Jeonghan hissed when you pressed against his growing bulge. “You mean…”

“With my cock, yeah,” he finished bluntly.

It was silent for a moment. You removed your hand, swallowing carefully after realizing that your guardian demon was hard.

Jeonghan wordlessly slid his hand down your pants, maintaining direct eye contact with you. His hand cupped your clothed cunt, and although you tried to resist, you couldn’t help but throb for more contact. You wondered if he just wanted to see your reactions, and you confirmed this by watching his smirk form when you whimpered.

“Oh,” you breathed out.

“Yeah, you like that?”

His voice was heavy, ragged. You felt like you could get drunk off it, so, naturally, you backed up with him until the back of your legs hit the bed. You made a sound of agreement when he hummed, prompting you to answer his question. You couldn’t even form words when all you could think about was being under him. Jeonghan’s palming grew more intense, and you were having a harder time staying upright.

Then, he was occupied with your neck. Jeonghan dragged his soft lips along the flesh, nipping and biting where he pleased. You let out a soft whine when he sucked on that one spot that turned your brain into mush.

“I’m gonna lay you down,” he said, although it felt like a question with the way he was looking at you. His eyes were careful, like he was holding onto your every word before following through. “Am I doing this right?”

You laughed, delighted as he set you down on your bed and got over you. You looped your arms around his shoulders and asked, “What do you mean?”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Am I going about this the right way? I don’t really do this sort of thing.”

You were surprised at his sudden meekness. Judging from Jeonghan’s overwhelming confidence from your past hookups with him, you expected him to carry on with the same arrogance. You never thought he would be so hesitant all of a sudden.

“You’re doing perfect,” you reassured with a chaste peck to his lips.

“Right.” He did one of his breathless laughs, easing your nerves with his grin. “Just tell me if I’m screwing up, then.”

Jeonghan dipped his head again to pepper kisses across your collarbone, working his way back up to the column of your neck. He worked on your sweet spot, biting and sucking until he had successfully left a bruise. You squirmed underneath him the entire time, tugging your hands through his hair and begging for him to fix the ache between your legs.

The demon only chuckled darkly in response. As he bit the shell of your ear, he removed your jeans and underwear swiftly, which you aided by kicking the garments off your ankles. He prodded your cunt with nimble fingers, grinning wider when he saw the desperation in your eyes.

“You’re so wet,” he commented in a silky voice. “All for me, huh?”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, “and take your clothes off already.”

Jeonghan rose up to sit back on your thighs, staring at you the entire time he pulled his shirt off and discarded it to the side. You couldn’t help but ogle at his figure; he was absolutely gorgeous—sculpted by God Himself.

“Don’t do that,” he said gruffly when you reached out to poke his stomach. You deduced that Jeonghan was most definitely ticklish and trying to hide that weakness from you.

“But your reaction was cute.”

He rolled his eyes but smiled, his hands moving to tug at the hem of your shirt. “C’mon, your turn.”

“H-huh?”

Even when Jeonghan gave you head in the past, you always kept your shirt on. He, too, had never stripped down in front of you like this. Surely, you were expecting this to happen, but the thought of being fully naked in front of Jeonghan was intimidating. It felt like you two were reaching a level of intimacy and closeness that you thought was unattainable months prior.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I already know you’re not wearing a bra. You've gone braless for, like, almost a week now.”

You raised a suspicious brow at him. “You were staring at my tits?”

“No comment.”

Jeonghan placed his slender hands on your waist, squeezing your sides comfortingly as you pulled your shirt off over your head. He watched you with marvel in his eyes, eyes trained on the swell of your breasts. He leaned close to press soft kisses against the skin, whispering praise as he did so. You didn’t peg the demon to be so romantic, but you weren’t complaining.

You heard gentle pattering outside your window while Jeonghan kissed down your chest.

“It’s raining,” you whispered. The two of you broke apart for a brief moment while Jeonghan hastily got rid of his pants and boxers. “An angel’s crying.”

You looked to the side, and you nearly had to look away before Jeonghan could notice how flustered you looked. The demon stood in all his glory. You had seen naked men before, but Jeonghan was, of course, a creature beyond human comprehension. He was the most gorgeous being you had ever come across.

And, strangely enough, for the first time, you didn’t feel that uncontrollable tug of desire when you looked at him. You weren’t compelled to drop to your knees and submit to the demon. Your attraction felt innate, much like how the rain falls so naturally from the sky. Not that Jeonghan ever had you under a spell or anything, but it almost felt like he was becoming more human.

Whether that meant he was losing his powers or was growing accustomed to living as a human, you had no idea.

“You’re beautiful,” he admitted, looking down at you like you were the stars in the night sky.

“Thanks,” you replied shyly.

“That’s your reaction?” He beamed, amused. “Well, whatever. I’d rather you save your voice for when I make you scream, human.”

You thought it would be impossible at this point, but your cheeks grew even hotter. Yet, you couldn’t even chide the demon because he was already getting over you, promptly attacking your neck with more kisses.

You were a soaking mess already, so Jeonghan’s fingers slid into your cunt with ease. You were taken aback yourself by how effortless it was, but you figured two fingers couldn’t hold a candle to the girth of his cock.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch how Jeonghan fingered you. Both of you stared at the spot where his fingers disappeared in you, and the sight only turned you on even more. For once, Jeonghan was pleasuring someone else without the favor being returned, yet you had never seen him so satiated. He was thriving off of your moans and cries, like the sounds itself were feeding him.

A moan escaped your lips, fragmenting off into broken whimpers as Jeonghan’s fingers sped up. You felt your thighs start to shake—the preamble of your orgasm building up. Heat bloomed under your skin, and you dug your nails into the demon’s shoulders to warn him.

The warning only spurred him to move his fingers faster—in scissoring motions this time. His thumb found purchase on your clit, circling the ball of nerves slowly. Finally, you fell off the edge, crying out in ecstasy as boundless pleasure tore through your body. Your mind went blank, thinking about nothing but how good you felt. It was like you were bathed in heavenly light.

“I got you,” Jeonghan murmured, kissing the spot under your ear.

If you had half the mind to kick him in the shin, you would. Pretending to comfort you while torturing your swollen clit throughout your orgasm was pure evil. You expected no less from a demon.

“Will you do me a favor and fuck me already?” you asked, exasperated. For good measure, you flattened your palm against his stomach and slid your hand down his abs.

“Alright. Beg for it.”

You balked. “W-what?”

“You want me to fuck you that bad? Then beg for it,” he said with an air of haughtiness. You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but the man didn’t budge. “I’m waiting.”

“I am not begging you, that’s so—” You paused. Jeonghan raised a brow, prompting you to continue, so you admitted, “It’s embarrassing!”

He shrugged. “I think we’re both past the point of being embarrassed in front of each other, human.”

You sucked in a sharp breath. “Okay, fine. You want me to beg? I’ll beg.” You laid back down, looping your arms around Jeonghan’s neck once more and pulling him close. “I’ve been waiting months for you to fuck me, so please make me feel good and I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” The mischievous glint in his eyes was unmistakable.

“I’ll be good.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” you whined, the agitation growing in your chest. “I’ll be a good girl, okay? I’ll be really, really good.”

“Alright, I’m sold.”

Jeonghan pressed a kiss to your forehead, letting out a light laugh before his demeanor completely shifted. His easygoing smile turned into a proud smirk when he practically folded you in half, throwing one of your legs over his shoulders so that he could line himself up to your entrance. He hummed, teasing your folds with the head of his cock.

You wanted to cry out, to push at his chest and beg him to just fuck you already. All of the teasing had you at your tipping point, and you were about to complain until you felt the tip of Jeonghan’s cock enter you slowly.

Your breath hitched. He hadn’t even completely entered you, and you were already throbbing at the thought of his cock inside you. Jeonghan used one hand to hold your hips down, pushing into you slowly but surely. You could tell he didn’t want to rush or hurt you, so he kept his eyes trained on your face the entire time, gauging whether to proceed based off your reactions.

“Sorry,” he apologized, placing a kiss against your stomach as he continued pushing his way inside you until he bottomed out. Your eyes nearly rolled back once he was fully inside, and all you could do was clench around him until he growled. “Hold still.”

“Keep going,” you begged, holding onto him like he was your anchor. If you let go of him, you were sure you would fall apart.

Jeonghan simpered, looking quite delighted as he started rocking his hips slowly. It seemed as though he was waiting for you to get adjusted to his size. Despite all, you were still clenching around his cock occasionally, leaving him holding onto you tighter and groaning into the crook of your neck. Jeonghan sped up his thrusts and left a bruising grip on your hips.

“You like that?” he asked, and, lord, you nearly came for the second time just by his words.

“Jeonghan!” you cried out, nearly gasping the words. “I… I want—”

“Want what?” he cut you off smoothly, smirking down at your disheveled appearance. He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust. “What do you want, princess?”

You whimpered. “I do wanna be your girlfriend.”

He froze for a moment, stunned. Apparently, that wasn’t the route he was expecting you to take.

Then, the demon’s shock wore off and was replaced with a warm smile. “Yeah?” he asked, leaning down to meet your lips in a sweet kiss. He pulled away to look into your eyes. “I’d be honored to be your boyfriend, Y/N.”

It was like clockwork—the way your orgasm hit you at that very moment. You tightened around him uncontrollably, the sporadic motions causing Jeonghan to cum as well. He pulled out right before his climax, ropes of cum spilling onto your stomach. You watched it pool together with hazy, unfocused eyes, still dazed from your orgasm and sudden confession.

Jeonghan was your boyfriend now.

“I see why mortal men are such fools for women,” Jeonghan said once he collapsed next to you. “If sex is always this good, I would start wars, too.”

“You’re a demon prince. You’ve started wars, anyway.”

“Oh, right.”

Afterward, you taught Jeonghan a thing or two about aftercare. The concept was completely foreign to him, so you informed him that good boyfriends took care of their girlfriends after sex. When Jeonghan told you to just grab a tissue and call it a day, you had to scold him to get him to clean you up.

To your surprise, Jeonghan did a satisfactory job. You half-expected him to do the absolute bare minimum, but you could definitely see that he was trying his best.

So, you bestowed upon him the highest honor: allowing him to sleep with you in your bed.

Jeonghan got under the sheets beside you, wrapping an arm around you once you cozied up to him. It was strange how comfortable you felt with him, especially considering he was your assigned demon. In some parallel universe, you and Jeonghan might have been normal people with normal lives, and you two probably felt the same level of closeness as you did right now.

Neither of you could sleep right away. Jeonghan traced patterns along your arm and you told him countless stories about your childhood. He smiled fondly, intently listening to the life you lived before him.

Later, he kissed you, and, between bated breaths, whispered promises of forever. And eventually, the soft trickling of rain lulled you both to sleep.

You woke up freezing.

At first, you thought Jeonghan had stolen the blanket. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for the Prince of Greed to be, well, greedy. However, considering your limbs were entangled with his, that didn’t seem to be the case.

The feeling was awfully familiar. It was the same sub-zero temperature you experienced when Jeonghan appeared in your room the first time. However, it was brief this time, dissipating as soon as it started.

Although you couldn’t identify the strange man who materialized in the center of your room, you had a good idea of who it was.

“Oh, Belphegor,” Jeonghan greeted without a care in the world, confirming your suspicions immediately. You were amazed that the half-naked demon was completely unfazed by his demon friend coming out of nowhere. Maybe this was just a regular morning for their kind. “About time you showed up.”

Belphegor made a noncommittal sound. “Yeah, well…”

“I can’t believe it took you centuries to fetch the Hand.”

“I was going to do it,” he said, “but then I didn’t want to.”

Jeonghan groaned. “You idiot.”

You gathered up the bedsheets, making sure to cover yourself fully before turning your attention back to the two demons. Maybe if you acted like everything about this situation was normal, it would distract from the fact that you only had a blanket to cover your naked body. The stranger seemed to have no interest in you whatsoever, so you figured he wouldn’t think anything of you and Jeonghan sleeping together.

“Jeonghan!” you hissed, glowering at your startled boyfriend. “It wouldn’t kill you to wake me up?”

“Oh, Y/N,” he started, seeming pleased with himself. He gestured toward the demon next to him, who looked like he had just rolled out of bed himself. “This is Belphegor, but you can call him by his human name: Wonwoo.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said cautiously.

“Hi.”

There was clearly no room for conversation between you two.

“Anyway,” Wonwoo continued, shooting Jeonghan a curious look, “what’re you gonna do with the key? You’re not opening the Outerverse, are you?”

Jeonghan shook his head. “I’m not gonna release the Outer Gods, I’m—”

“Well, that’s good to know,” Wonwoo cut him off, clearly uninterested in the conversation. “Now that I know you’re not trying to kill us all, I’ll get going.”

“Yeah, okay, good talk.”

Later in the day, you sat on the floor of your living room with Jeonghan and Seokmin. Jeonghan was giving him a rundown of Belphegor’s visit, which didn’t take very long considering he was there for a grand total of nine moments. You almost made an offhand comment about how Jeonghan didn’t give you any time to get dressed, but that would have exposed what went down between you two last night.

Neither of you had even mentioned to Seokmin about sealing the deal.

“Alright, so,” the Quartarion started, “how does this work?”

Jeonghan pulled out a ten dollar bill, a deformed-looking Twinkie, and a tiny bottle of bath salts from the pocket of his sweater. He laid them out carefully around the Right Hand of Doom before looking up at you and Seokmin. A smug grin spread across his face, but you and the angel were flabbergasted.

“A Twinkie?” you asked.

“He likes sweets,” was the extent of Jeonghan’s explanation.

“Primordial Outer God of space-time likes Twinkies. Good to know.”

“And the ten dollars?” Seokmin asked.

“He likes money, too,” Jeonghan said. Before either of you could question the bath salts, he pointed to the bottle and added, “These are just for the vibes.”

Nice.

“Anyway,” Jeonghan continued, “these types of invocations usually require human sacrifices or something along those lines.” Seokmin and him glanced in your direction at the same time, and you shot them each an icy glare. Jeonghan coughed into his fist. “We’re obviously not sacrificing you. I’m just saying he’s more likely to answer me because I’m a demon prince.”

Seokmin looked on edge. “So… are we starting?”

“I don’t want Y/N in the room,” Jeonghan answered.

“What?” you asked, shocked at the sudden dismissal. “Why?”

“He’s so powerful—even knowing of his existence can drive some mortals insane,” Jeonghan muttered darkly. “Seokmin should be fine since he’s an angel, but there’s a chance you’d go mad if you heard his voice, so stay back until I say so.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You were already starting to get to your feet the second he mentioned mortals going insane.

“I’ll stand in the hallway, then,” you decided, far too curious to lock yourself in one of the rooms.

You watched as Jeonghan and Seokmin took each other’s hands quietly and exchanged a silent nod of understanding before closing their eyes. Jeonghan then started reciting some strange incantation that was far more complicated than the one you used to summon him. It seemed to drag on for close to a minute before the air around them went still. It was as if they were trapped in a time vortex, suspended in space while all you could do was wait for them to be released.

You took careful steps backward until you were against the wall, and then you sank down to the floor. As much as you tried to calm your nerves, you were riddled with anxiety. You had to physically hold your thigh down to keep it from bouncing.

Jeonghan didn’t tell you how exactly this would go. Hell, he probably didn’t know himself. Because you were so unaware, though, you weren’t sure if what was happening right now was normal or not. The two men weren’t even twitching or breathing; they were like still images.

Minutes stretched on. You weren’t sure how long it had been, but each passing second felt longer than it should have been. There was nothing you could do but wait. Stare at the motionless air around the two boys and wait.

It had probably been around half an hour when Seokmin’s eyes shot open with a loud gasp. You scrambled to your feet immediately, badgering the poor boy with questions to find out what happened while he was just trying to catch his breath. Jeonghan, on the other hand, looked the very image of tranquility when he opened his eyes.

“What is it?” you kept asking. “What happened?”

Seokmin had a strange, distant look in his eyes. He tried to speak several times, but no words came out.

“Could you get him something warm to drink, Y/N?” Jeonghan asked. “I think he’s in shock.”

“I’ll—I’ll make some tea,” you stammered, stumbling over your feet before you could start walking properly. “How about you? Are you—” You stopped yourself once you saw the hint of fear in Jeonghan’s eyes, and it chilled your blood. You couldn’t even fathom what they had just gone through. “I’ll get you a cup, too.”

It took two hours for the two men to recover—slowly but surely. You brought them tea and gave them time to process what they had just been through. It mainly consisted of you sitting to the side and keeping yourself from asking any questions. You figured they’d tell you if they wanted, but you weren’t in any position to press them.

Jeonghan seemed to feel bad for letting Seokmin tag along. He kept glancing at the angel with sad eyes, seeming remorseful. Then, he turned his attention to you. To your surprise, he walked over to where you sat on the couch to sit next to you and lay his head on your shoulder.

“Hey,” you called softly. “Are you feeling better?”

He nodded, although he didn’t look you in the eyes. “You should probably go to your room. Yog-Sothoth told us he’s thinking about my request, so he could be making up his mind any minute now.”

“You’re going back?”

“I guess. It was more like my consciousness was transported there instead of my physical body.”

He said it like it should have been no big deal, but the two were clearly unsettled by their visit. You weren’t sure how to feel about them going back. It could break Seokmin for good. Even though he was an angel-blood, he didn’t have the power that Jeonghan had.

“The fact that he listened to Jeonghan’s request means that he’s considering it,” Seokmin spoke up after a period of silence between you three. “It’s a good thing you didn’t go, Y/N. The Outerverse is the most terrifying realm I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been to Alabama.”

You smiled a little. At least he seemed to be feeling more at ease now.

“They say Yog-Sothoth exists beyond our reality, so he can possibly see other streams of reality that aren’t connected to the branches of Creation,” Jeonghan explained. “That sounds insane, right? When you’re in the Outerverse seeing those pockets of different realities… it can make you go a little crazy. I mean, I’d give Hell a five star Yelp review over the Outerverse.”

Seokmin tucked his head in his folded arms. “I never wanna go to that place again.”

“Well, I’m not exactly planning to have my next birthday party there.”

“Mammon,” a voice boomed in your ears, and the sound itself was weird.​​ There were undertones of echoes in its words, and you couldn’t even tell if the voice was in your head or not.

You didn’t have to ask who it was because the fear in Seokmin’s eyes was unmistakable. Jeonghan straightened up, panicked, but you assumed it was because you were still in the room because he swiftly placed his hands over your ears in an attempt to muffle the sound. You weren’t sure it would help, but you did feel safer that way.

“God of Time, I appreciate your presence.”

“I’ve decided to accept your offer,” Yog-Sothoth said. His voice sounded louder, even with Jeonghan’s hands over your ears. “I’ll help you.”

There was a way.

He removed his hands from the sides of your head, and you sat up straight again. You never thought those four words would light up so much hope inside you, but here you were, beaming like an idiot next to your demon boyfriend. There was a hope for a future between you and Jeonghan—hope that you two could live out the rest of your lives as humans. More importantly, there was hope that you two could live out the rest of your lives together.

For a moment, you were filled with doubt. There was so much at stake for this decision, and you couldn’t fathom someone loving you so much that they would give their world up for you.

“Jeonghan,” you murmured, “are you sure about giving up immortality?”

“I’d rather live a short life with you than spend the rest of eternity longing for what we could have had,” he declared with a fire blazing in his eyes. “I don’t want forever if it’s not with you, Y/N.”

His soft words coupled with his fierce gaze only sent butterflies to the pit of your stomach. You were hopeless when it came to Jeonghan; whatever he said left you like putty in his hands.

“Jeonghan,” Seokmin whispered, looking fearful. He was pointing at the makeshift summoning circle. “The Twinkie’s gone.”

So, the primordial Outer God of space-time was helping Jeonghan out because of a Twinkie. You decided against questioning why the all-powerful being was about to manipulate the fabric of reality over an over-glorified sponge cake.

“But,” Yog-Sothoth’s voice echoed in your ears as he spoke, “for this exchange, I require a sacrifice.”

“A sacrifice?” Jeonghan asked, frowning. “The Twinkie—”

“No, Mammon, not the Twinkie. I want you to bring me a loved one; an eye for an eye.”

You frowned. Jeonghan could split his soul into two—one residing in his demon form in Hell, and the other residing in his human body here—but he had to sacrifice someone he loved? You couldn’t understand how this was a fair exchange; he was already giving up a part of him for this ordeal.

“Sacrifice a loved one in exchange for what I want,” Jeonghan echoed, a faraway look in his eyes. “I’ve seen this before.”

“You have?” Your eyebrows narrowed. “When?”

“Avengers: Endgame.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Dude,” Seokmin chimed in, and you were starting to think you were the only one who understood the gravity of the situation. “This is literally Thanos sacrificing Gamora for the Soul Stone.”

“Stop embarrassing us in front of the Outer God!” you whispered harshly.

“Well,” Jeonghan started, his tone growing serious again, “I’m sure you know my choice.”

“Yes, I do.” Yog-Sothoth hummed, and something about it seemed calculative. You wanted to interject and ask Jeonghan what the hell he was talking about, but you felt like you were immobilized. “Very well, then.”

You looked at Seokmin to see if he understood what was going on, but he seemed just as confused as you were. Jeonghan just stared ahead, refusing to look either of you in the eye, and panic rose in your throat. You wanted to trust him, to confidently know that he wasn’t choosing you or Seokmin, but you really didn’t know who else it could have been.

Like Jeonghan told you before, demons didn’t care about anyone or anything. Only you and Seokmin were able to crack him open.

That was why horrifying realization was drawn across both of your faces. Jeonghan was choosing either you or Seokmin, and considering you were the reason he wanted to be mortal in the first place, you were terrified he was going to sacrifice Seokmin. And it seemed like Seokmin was terrified of that possibility, too.

You stood up and grabbed his shoulder. “Jeonghan, you—”

But before you could get any words out, you were sinking and the ground was swallowing you whole.

Everything went dark, and then silence followed.

You had gone under anesthesia once in your life. It was back when you were thirteen and the doctors had to perform an appendectomy on you. Being sedated didn’t feel like sleeping at all; it felt like closing your eyes and then waking up to a weird jumpcut in your memory. You remembered being extremely disoriented at first, not even realizing what had just happened to you.

Now, as your eyes fluttered open, you felt the same way.

You were tucked in your bed, which had to have been impossible because you were in the living room when everything turned black. You sat up to gather your bearings. Your head was a mess for a second, unable to focus on one thing at a time.

Jeonghan. Seokmin. Yog-Sothoth. Twinkies. Sacrifice.

The words etched themselves in your bones until you felt dread seep in. If you were still in your bed, completely unharmed, that meant Jeonghan had gotten rid of Seokmin. You looked down at your hands, and you realized they were shaking before you could stop yourself.

“Jeonghan!” you yelled, furious. Before he could hurry to your room, you stormed out, fighting back tears. Just as you thought, he was rushing down the hallway to see you, but you weren’t in the mood for a happy reunion. “How could you?!”

He looked confused. “Didn’t… didn’t you want this? I’m human now, Y/N.” A bright smile broke across his face. “Yog-Sothoth split my soul, so Mammon’s back in Hell where he belongs, but I’m here to stay as a human.”

You punched his shoulder. Hard.

“Okay, ow,” he complained. “Y/N, I—”

“Don’t,” you warned. Your voice was wavering and you could feel your throat closing up. “I don’t wanna hear it after what you did to Seokmin. You promised me you wouldn’t kill him!”

As if on cue, the angel-blood, who was supposed to be dead, peaked into the hallway from where he was in the living room. He had a bowl of ice cream in his hands, shaking his head at you repeatedly.

“I’m not dead,” he clarified, even though you could very clearly see that. “I’m alive.”

“Oh.” You had to take a step back because now, you were more confused than ever. “You’re alive.”

“You sound disappointed. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna steal your boyfriend.”

“I’m not! I’m… really fucking confused—wait, you found out we’re dating, too?” You turned to look up at Jeonghan. “Wait, so who’d you sacrifice, then? What happened after I blacked out? I feel like I’m so in the dark right now.”

Jeonghan looked down at his feet, suddenly glum. “I sacrificed my pet.”

“Mount Fu—I mean, Doljjong? I thought it was dead already?”

“No, my other pet.” He showed you his phone screen, which was on an article about Mount Vesuvius going extinct. “Jjongddol.”

“Oh, another rock.” You tried to sound sympathetic, but it was hard to feel bad for a volcano. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“He’s not even sad about it!” Seokmin argued, pointing his spoon at Jeonghan in an accusatory manner. “He gaslit the Time God!”

Jeonghan huffed. “I am sad, okay! Just because it took me a while to remember his name doesn’t mean I don’t have fond memories with Doljjong!”

“Jjongddol,” you corrected.

“Oh, right—Jjongddol!”

You smiled, taking his face into your hands. “You know what this means, though?”

Jeonghan looked at you, eyebrows lifting in pleasant surprise. “What?”

(“Oh, Christ, they’re gonna start making out,” Seokmin muttered and hurried back to the couch. “I’m gonna look for movies on the TV, Jeonghan!”)

“It means we finally have all the time in the world to ourselves, Yoon Jeonghan.” You got on your toes to press a chaste kiss to his lips, which he reciprocated almost immediately. “I’m a little sad I don’t have a guardian demon anymore, though, even if he sucked at his job.”

“Hey, I didn’t suck!” He pouted a little, which you laughed at. “Now, though, you get to show me how to be a proper human.”

“Oh, shoot. We need to find you a place to live since my lease only allows one person, and then we need to figure out getting your documents in order, and then—”

Jeonghan cut you off with a laugh. “I’m on board for all that, but I’d really like to celebrate my new life right now by watching a movie with my best friend and girlfriend.” He slung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer, and you couldn’t help but giggle. “And then tonight I’d like to—”

“Alright, alright!” you interjected, feeling your face go hot. “You know, the demon part of you might be gone power-wise, but I don’t know about personality-wise.”

“You love it, though.”

“Jeonghan, let’s watch Superbad!” Seokmin called from the living room.

“Okay!” Jeonghan turned to you and held out his hand. “Come on. I heated up popcorn and even put in some jalapeños for you.”

“Hey.” You stopped him, and you weren’t exactly sure why, but you felt so overwhelmed by your emotions at the moment. There were so many forces against you two, yet you still managed to fight the odds. A constant storm you both battled to stay together, and only now you felt like you could finally breathe. So, when Jeonghan looked at you, the words came out naturally. “I love you.”

He looked at you for a moment, before his face broke into one of those heartbreakingly beautiful smiles again. “I love you, too, Y/N.”

Now it was your time to smile and grab his hand. “Let’s go watch that movie.”

“Oh, is Y/N watching with us?” Seokmin asked.

“This may come as a shock, but this happens to be my apartment, Seokmin.”

And, as you three watched the movie, you and Jeonghan kept your hands interlocked, unwilling to let go. You thought it was beautiful how two hands could touch and forge a bond like no other. It must have been why you and Jeonghan had made it past every obstacle that came hurtling your way.

In some parallel universe out there, some stream of reality that didn’t branch from Creation, you and Jeonghan were probably normal people who found each other naturally. In that world, neither of you had to go through all the pain and suffering to find each other, to finally end up in each other’s arms. 

But you would choose this reality over that one every single time. You would go through all the trails and tribulations for Jeonghan however many times you needed to because, at the end of the day, the love you two had for each other couldn’t compare to any other reality out there. 

And you would never admit it out loud, but he was right; your guardian demon didn’t totally suck at his job.

#svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #jeonghan smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen #jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan scenarios #svt hard hours #seventeen hard hours #seventeen x reader

[wonwoonlight]

just one day / yoon jeonghan

⇢ Jeonghan x fem!Reader

⇢ word count: 4.5k

⇢ fluff // angst // nonidol!au // brother's best friend // fake dating!au // they're idiots lmao // not edited nor proofread so pls bear w me lol // cursing and. two? kissing scenes.

⇢ A/N: this has been sitting unfinished in my google drive since... either last year or the beginning of this year lmao. i have always wanted to write brother's best friend and i had this sudden urge to finish it earlier so i did. been some time since i posted a proper fic so, enjoy~

He must be dreaming.

He must be.

“What?” Jeonghan says just for the sake of saying it.

“I like you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You blink at his firm voice, wondering what kind of situation this is. Sure, you shouldn’t be confessing to your brother’s best friend, but you feel like you’ve been obvious enough and you don’t see why you shouldn’t confess when it’s been eating you inside out.

And, yeah, you didn’t expect him to do anything about your confession (or even say that he likes you back), but you didn’t expect this either.

“What do you mean I don’t?” you frown, looking at him accusingly. “I like you.”

“You don’t, kid.” He sighs, already feeling a headache coming. He’s not stupid, alright, he has enough sense to gather that his best friend’s little sister probably has something on him–a crush, perhaps, but he’s never thought it was real enough for you to feel the need to confess.

It doesn’t help that he is attracted to you, has always been since you’ve gone back from Sydney after finishing university a year ago. He admits he’s always thought you’re attractive, and if he’s being honest, he would’ve asked you out first if not for the fact that you’re literally Joshua Hong’s little sister.

As if it’s not enough that not dating his best friend’s little sister has always been a code he follows, Shua has always been a little too protective as a brother. He’s seen firsthand how the guy scared off some who had the guts to flirt with you, seen how for two decades only two guys had ever been declared good enough to date you (he couldn’t do anything about the flings you had when you were abroad, but at least you’ve always been appreciative of his protectiveness and you never missed to inform him of some guys who were actually trying to get it on with you).

Long story short, Jeonghan does not wish to be on the receiving end of Shua’s scrutinizing eyes regardless of how much he’s actually into you.

“Look, you know me,” he starts when he realizes you’re not backing down. He looks away, pretending to be frustrated, though it’s really just because he thinks he’ll relent if he looks into your eyes a second longer. “I’m not gonna make a good boyfriend and I’m literally your brother’s best friend.”

You don’t seem to care about the first part of his sentence, irked by the fact that him being best friend with Shua would be an obstacle in your way. Shouldn’t it be easier for him to get a seal of approval if he’s already close with your brother? But, then again, Shua probably knows Jeonghan inside out and knowing too much is never a good thing.

“So what?” you say anyway, because if there’s any word that would describe you perfectly, it’s ‘stubborn’. “Why does it matter that you’re his best friend?”

Jeonghan sends you a look, and you pout because you actually get what he means. You know Shua, after all, and as much as you want to condition yourself to believe that Jeonghan would be the person Shua approves of with all his heart, you also know that even if your brother actually approves, he would put him through hell just for the fun of it.

Anyway, this doesn’t tell you at all where Jeonghan actually stands about you.

“So, you don’t like me?” you shoot straight to it, as if Jeonghan wouldn’t be able to hear your heart beating like there’s no tomorrow if he takes even one step closer–as if your ears aren’t hot from saying it out loud. Jeonghan does not need to know how flustered you actually are.

And it works, because he seems to be taken aback by your boldness and you try your best to hide a victory grin at that. You should probably be more grateful that he can’t stand to look at you for more than three seconds; if he had, he would’ve seen the tip of your ears turning red and the speck of blush on your face, which means he could’ve easily taken control of the situation and turned it against you.

His silence encourages you, because if he really doesn’t like you then he would tell you so. As much as Jeonghan is a master of tricks and he’s great at acting, he’s never been good at hiding his feelings.

Jeonghan bites his lip, trying to get a way out of this. Why can’t he just say no and be done with it? Sure, he’s not in love with you or anything (yet?), but it’s a straight out lie to say he’s never seen you that way.

After all, there’s a reason why he’s been avoiding you the past few months. 

You just have to be more daring these days, and as much as he wills himself to behave, there are times when he’s already flirting with you before he knows it. He’s just lucky Shua has never caught you two.

Plus, you’ve taken a liking to wearing a crop top and it’s the absolute death of him.

“Tell you what,” you say before he does. “Date me.”

Jeonghan chokes on nothing, violently coughs that his shoulders are shaking and you actually need to pat his back so he’ll calm down.

“Are you okay?” You ask worriedly, and he’s terribly conscious of your hand on his shoulder and the other on his arm, of the way your brows furrow in concern, of the way your lips are a little ajar and if he moves forward just a little–

“Yeah.” He shakes his head despite the word, then clears his throat and squares his shoulders before he looks the other way around. He doesn’t step away though, and it’s so fucking stupid that he frowns when you do. “Sorry. You were saying?”

“Date me.” You repeat anyway, though you know this is Jeonghan’s way of  giving you an out in case you want to pretend like you didn’t just say that earlier. He opens his mouth, and you can hear what he’s going to say even if he hasn’t said anything so you cut him yet again. “Just for one day.”

“Kid–”

“Stop,” you say firmly, something akin to determination flashes through your eyes that he’s actually taken aback. “Stop calling me that.”

He sighs out your name, but you’re not hearing it because if you back down now you know you won’t have it in you to say this out loud again. You’re fueled by nothing but impulse and you’re not going to let Yoon Jeonghan himself slow you down.

“Han, I see the way you look at me–you’ve gone past seeing me as a kid since I came back from Sydney and it’s been a year since then. I’m not stupid.”

It’s hard to describe the way he looks at you, and he’s not blaming you because he is confused. The mixed feelings bursting in his chest is much too complicated for him to explain. Let alone through words, even his consciousness does not know how to register what he’s feeling.

Your face falls at his silence, and whatever courage that drives you up to this point is starting to ebb little by little. You’re so goddamn stupid–did you really think confessing to him would lift the weight off your shoulders? What made you think Jeonghan would be able to treat you as usual after you confessed?

Didn’t you confess only because it’s heaving you down? Because you thought you’d regret it if you stayed silent?

Then what is this weight on your chest? 

What is this disappointment looming all over your body?

Why the fuck are your eyes pricking with tears?

Still, you stand your ground and square yourself up in front of him. You’ve gone this far. If you’re going to be embarrassing, might as well do it for a reason. 

“Okay,” he breaks his silence, his tone defeated for whatever reason. It’s not discouraging though, more like unsure and maybe a little hopeful, and when you look up, he’s biting his lip in contemplation. “Just one day, right?”

“But you have to actually treat me like I’m your girlfriend.” You push, heart beating both in excitement and fear. Because what if he backs out of nowhere? He’s not that kind of person, but this situation is nothing sort of normal and his consciousness just might get to him if you don’t push him already.

Jeonghan bites his lip, looking at you like you’re a bad idea that he’s caving into. And he’s starting to think that it’s true. But if he’s being honest, he’s not against this at all. He also wants to know how it’d feel like to hold your hands and just listen to you talk without thinking about Shua and whatever that will follow if he ever finds out.

Frankly, one day wouldn’t be enough, but that’s better than nothing, right? And he would never have the guts to propose it himself, he admits, so this is a chance that he knows he wouldn’t get his hands on ever again.

He sighs, praying to every god up there that this won’t backfire on him.

“Okay,” he whispers, more to himself than to you, and then repeats it once again, this time firmer, looking at you straight in the eyes. “Shua’s going on a business trip next week, right?”

You nod.

“I’ll see you next Saturday?”

You bite down your lip so hard that you taste blood to stop yourself from smiling like an idiot.

Tuesday, 26 July

[14:32] Yoon Jeonghan😠: beach or amusement park

[14:50] ?????

[14:50] its not a surprise?

[14:54] Yoon Jeonghan😠: just pick one, kid

[14:55] 🙄 beach ig

Thursday, 28 July

[01:11] Yoon Jeonghan😠: festival or night market

[01:12] ?????? sir?? go to sleep??

[01:12] didnt you choose a place alrd???

[01:12] but night market

[01:13] Yoon Jeonghan😠: you go to sleep

Yoon Jeonghan😠 is typing…

…

Yoon Jeonghan😠 is typing…

[01:17] Yoon Jeonghan😠: good night, kid

[01:18] nightttttt

Friday, 29 July

[22:20] Yoon Jeonghan😠: wear something light tomorrow, but bring a jacket just in case it gets cold at night

Saturday, 30 July

[00:03] k, boyfriend 😌

[00:03] sorry, i was on the phone with chaeyoung earlier

[00:07] Yoon Jeonghan😠: i really cant with you

[00:07] Yoon Jeonghan😠: and chaeyoung as in vernon’s cousin? your friend from high school?

[00:07] Yoon Jeonghan😠: you still talk to her?

[00:08] yes!! surprised that u rmb her :0

[00:08] and i actually just met her by accident earlier today and we decided to catch up thru the phone bc i had to go somewhere

[00:09] apparently, she’s dating choi seungcheol or smth 👀

Incoming call from Yoon Jeonghan😠 - 00:11

Call ended - 02:27

[02:27] Yoon Jeonghan😠: you fell asleep. night, babe 🤪 see you

You bite your lip in giddiness as you keep on rereading Jeonghan’s text, like you’re not giddy enough already at the prospect of today.

You fell asleep last night while on the phone with Jeonghan, but whatever curse you were about to dump into yourself for falling asleep during what might be your only chance to be on the phone with Jeonghan during ungodly hours was immediately wiped out when you saw his text.

Yes, you’d flirt with each other from time to time–but never through texts, and the prospect of having a message from him that you can read over and over again some time in the future is both delightful and… sad.

The sudden tug on your heart and consciousness is a little heavy, a reminder that he’s doing that because you asked him to. That whatever’s happening in the span of today is an illusion, one that Jeonghan agrees on creating.

Why, you don’t want to dwell on it too much.

That should be your motto for the day: fuck it.

So what if it was an illusion? Jeonghan agreed and you’re going to make the best out of it. If you’re never going to be Jeonghan’s girlfriend, might as well be shameless and live your teenage (and adult, if you’re being honest) dream and be his girlfriend for the day now so you can stamp it in your memory. You only have today and you’re not going to spend any second thinking about the technicality of it.

As far as you know, Jeonghan is your boyfriend and he’s taking you out for the day.

You jump when your phone pings, the notification on your lockscreen rids you of whatever negativity that was in your mind literally seconds ago as you grin and make your way out of your apartment.

[09:17] Yoon Jeonghan😠: am in the lobby. get ur pretty self here, angel.

For all you know, the world is plenty unfair. But seeing Jeonghan looking like that with a simple white tee and a faded pair of jeans reminds you just how unfair the world actually is. Like it’s not unfair enough already because he’s not your actual boyfriend.

“Come on, let me take a picture of you,” he says as he softly takes your hand, pulling you up from the mat. “The wind isn’t too strong and you’re looking particularly pretty today.”

You scrunch your nose as you mock annoyance, a failed attempt to mask your blush. Hopefully, Jeonghan would think you’re simply flushed because of the sun and not because of him.

“I don’t like taking pictures.”

“How dare you lie to me.” Jeonghan says without missing a beat. “I know you make Shua take a ton shit pictures of you when you’re out somewhere.”

You pout at this, and as much as you know Jeonghan doesn’t mean anything by it, the mention of your brother isn’t exactly welcome today because his name just reminds you that this isn’t real and he’s a big part of the reason why.

“Can you not talk about my brother?” You say softly, which Jeonghan easily catches even if he’s not sure you mean for him to hear or not. The sadness in your voice is genuine though, and he makes a mental note to stop mentioning Joshua for the rest of the day. He’s starting to question once again if this is the right thing to do even for a day–after all, Joshua is his best friend, and this particular conversation is the exact reason why he’s not supposed to do this.

But he’s promised you he’ll treat you like his girlfriend–perhaps another personal agenda of his because he does want to experience being able to be your boyfriend even for a day. He should’ve thought more before okay-ing your proposal instead of thinking about it right now when you’re in front of him, in a simple white shirt and a black skirt that stops just below the middle of your thigh but somehow still the prettiest he’s ever seen. 

He wonders if this is how you usually dress up for your dates, and something bitter makes it to the tip of his tongue as he thinks about someone else taking you on a date. 

“Sorry. Come on, let’s take a picture together.” His fingers wrap around your wrist to pull you closer before eventually linking them with yours. “You’re very pretty today, have I told you?”

“You have.” You scrunch your nose and pretend to roll your eyes at the sudden sweetness he basks you in even though you’re liking every second of it. “Literally one minute ago.”

“Well, you really do look very beautiful and I want you to know.” He lowers his voice an octave and stares right into your eyes before he eventually bursts out laughing.

“Stop!” You giggle, knowing that he’s doing this on purpose to annoy you. “That’s too fucking cheesy and you know it.”

He laughs along with you, then tightens his fingers in yours like they’re not interlocked already.

“I mean it though.” He whispers one last time, not looking at you this time around because his heart might fucking burst to say it to your face without the faux of messing with you. “You do look beautiful.”

At least you share the sentiment, as you quietly duck your head to hide your smile, whispering a thanks that’s only meant for the two of you.

Jeonghan keeps his end of the bargain, you’re happy to know, as you don’t even think about your brother and the pretense that is your relationship for the rest of the day. You freely flirt with each other, cheeky smile and winks being thrown here and there. His hands never seem to leave you, and you gladly cling on to him even if you don’t need to.

You get ice cream, insist that you want the plain strawberry one only to eventually switch with Jeonghan’s cookies and creams because his looks better. He plays hard to get before giving in to you, but not before swiping ice cream from the side of your lips and licks his thumb like that shit isn’t going to give you a heart attack.

It’s around seven when you both get to the night market not too far from the beach, and you’re both even gigglier than earlier which you didn’t think was possible. Your cheeks hurt from smiling, but you’re the furthest thing from complaining as you continue at whatever dumb jokes Jeonghan throws your way.

The night market isn’t as crowded as you think it would be, but it still is crowded and Jeonghan makes a show of throwing his arm around your shoulder because he ‘doesn’t want to lose you’ and you seem a little cold (which you kinda are).

You elbow him at this, shake your head and pretend like you’re not internally dying from the closeness between the two of you.

“That’s so lame.” You snicker. “Just say you want me close and go.”

“I do want you close.” He whispers unexpectedly, catching you entirely off guard that you trip on your own foot you almost fall on your face. He doesn’t seem to realize you tripped because you’re flustered, which works good for you, and he flicks your forehead as he scolds you to be more careful and goes back to holding your hand.

“Seriously. How are you still so clumsy?”

You don’t like being reprimanded by Jeonghan, because it awfully reminds you that you’re younger than him–that you’re his best friend’s little sister. And as much as you know Jeonghan definitely does not see you as a sister, the implication that he has to see you as one because of the association is very disheartening. 

“Why are you frowning?” He copies the gesture, and you shake your head, telling him it’s nothing. The night is ending, and you don’t want to waste more time thinking about stuff that you can think of tomorrow when you’re not in a time limited relationship with Yoon Jeonghan. “No, tell me–”

“Jeonghan?”

The both of you turn at the call of his name, and your frown deepens as you see Jisoo in front of you, Jeonghan’s ex that he amicably broke up with. The one ex that has always made you feel like shit because she’s everything you’re not and they were such a picture perfect couple that you’re sure they’d go back together someday.

It does not feel good to see her today of all days.

“Oh, hi!” She kindly greets you, her smile way too genuine for you to think she’s just being polite and secretly hates you inside. Gosh. You need to stop watching too many TV dramas. “Joshua’s sister… right?”

There it is again. The reminder that you’re his sister–something you really don’t need to hear today.

“Hi.” You smile awkwardly, and only then remember your hand is still pretty much joined with Jeonghan’s. You don't know how to feel about the fact that his reflex is not to let go of your hand in front of his ex who obviously knows your brother. You try to let go of his hand, but Jeonghan holds on tighter, as if telling you it’s okay and there’s no need to worry about Jisoo.

They share a small chat for a bit before eventually parting, and Jisoo wishes you both a good night, which makes you hate yourself so much for being jealous of the girl when she doesn’t even have an ounce of bad energy towards you.

You try to enjoy the rest of the night, but Jisoo’s appearance just reminds you that this whole thing is pretty much fake. That someone out there is going to be in your place for real–able to hold his hand and just be with him all the time without having to wait for your brother to go on a business trip to even hang out with each other. Without some stupid request and guilt eating them inside out because they’re not supposed to do this.

Trying to be subtle, you put on an act of wanting to visit every stall in the festival and pretend to be tired after about thirty minutes or so. You’re surprised Jeonghan isn’t already tired to begin with, this guy has the battery of a five-years-old phone, you didn’t expect him to actually bring you around until night if you’re being completely honest.

Jeonghan complies when you tell him you’re ready to go home, and you don’t even realize he’s also being weirdly quiet because you’re too deep in your thoughts. And it’s once his car is parked on the parking lot of your apartment building that you finally open your mouth trying to say something–anything.

You want to thank him for today. To thank him for making a memory that you’ll dearly hold on to, for giving you a standard of what a boyfriend is supposed to be even for a day. For fulfilling your dumb request when he doesn’t even have to.

But what comes out of your mouth is something entirely different and you almost want to bash your head against the door of his car right after.

“Whoever’s going to be your girlfriend is very lucky.”

You can hear Jeonghan takes a sharp breath, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from crying because you’re just so fucking stupid like that.

You try to remind yourself that you asked for this. That Jeonghan is doing you a favour and owes you nothing. That you should be thankful you’ve even gotten the chance to play girlfriend with him when he could’ve just embarrassed you and walked away after your proposal.

The deafening silence inside the car is very loud, and you feel like you’re suffocated by things unseen that you just want to get out of the car and take a very deep breath. So you do just that: reach for the door of his car because you can’t take being so close to him anymore.

It’s your fault. You shouldn’t have asked for this. Shouldn’t have asked for a taste of heaven because surely you would want more and you’ll die of thirst right after. Now you’re just going to be awkward with him until god knows when and you’re regretting it already. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You should’ve been satisfied with your close friendship with him, with loving him from afar. Now you’ve ruined things between you and him and who knows when things will get back to normal? He’ll fucking think of you as pathetic and it’s just going to be pity in his eyes everytime he looks at you now.

“Hey!” Jeonghan jumps in alert the moment you step out of his car, quickly follows through and catches you before you take another step away from him. “What–why are you in such a hurry?”

You look down to your shoes, because you can’t stomach looking at him right now just in case you’ll see what you fear will be reflected in his eyes.

“Hey… Look at me?” He tries once again, tone getting a little helpless. But you shake your head, because you’re sure you’ll start crying if you do and you want to preserve the little dignity you still have in front of him. But Jeonghan doesn’t stop there, he whispers a ‘please?’ and lifts your chin gently so you’ll look at him, his heart breaking when he sees how close you are to tears and his throat closing at how he’s the reason behind all this.

“Thank you.” You brave yourself. It’s the least you can do, because as much as you’re going to grovel for the next few months, you know that this particular memory with Jeonghan will always be dear to your heart and you’ll treasure it forever. “I’m sorry for taking your time and–”

“Ah, fuck it.” You hear him say before he dives into your lips, not minding the way you’re frozen in place out of shock. He hums against your lips, and it’s then that you finally kiss him back, your hands settle over his shoulders and your whole body relaxed under his touch.

When the both of you pull away, you’re a little out of breath and your thoughts all over the place. But there’s a small smile in Jeonghan’s face that gets you mirroring the gesture. He closes his eyes as he places his forehead on yours, and you follow suit, feeling the warmth of his breath on your face.

“It’s… okay for me to do that, right?” He asks, albeit a little too late. You still don’t know what the whole things mean, but you find yourself chuckling, because you honestly would let him do anything to you. But he doesn’t need to know the kind of power he has over you, so you simply nod and let him have his peace.

“Han?” You say after a while. “What does this mean for us?”

Jeonghan stares into your eyes, deep in his own thoughts as if he’s trying to rearrange his words so they don’t stumble out of his mouth like a trainwreck.

“Let’s see where this takes us?”

“But Shua…?”

He presses his lips together and wraps his arms around you, pushing you into his neck as he breathes in your scent.

“Whatever happens, happens.” He decides, already resigning that he can’t possibly let you go now that he knows how it feels like to have you like this. He’ll make your brother understand somehow, but right now, he wants to be with you and savors the little time he has with you before your brother comes back, not even minding the way his phone has been vibrating in his pocket.

[Joshua sent a picture.]

Joshua: heard from Jisoo you’re on a date w my sister??????????????????

Joshua: did you finally get out of your ass and stop being in denial lmaoooooooooooooo

Joshua: just pls be safe

Joshua: she’s still my sister

Joshua: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

©wonwoonlight – all rights reserved. I don’t allow any reposting, translation, and any other kind of redistribution of this fic. Please tell me if you’re aware of anyone doing this without my permission.

#jeonghan angst #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan fic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen au #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan imagines #khione.fics #jeonghan au #seventeen scenario #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #jeonghan oneshot #seventeen oneshot

[babyleostuff]

౨ৎ voicemails yoon jeonghan leaves you while he’s on tour - fluff (with a pinch of angst), established relationship, gn!reader (pet names used: honey, babe)

...one: i think i left my toothbrush at your place. (pause) and my charger. (pause) and the headphones i bought specifically for this trip

...two: don’t kill me honey, but they had to cut my hair. not much but still. (mumbling) don’t listen to shua i’m not bald i swear. anyway, call me when you wake up! and remember i love you no matter your hairstyle!

...three: i have so much trouble sleeping here, i don’t know why 

...four: did you eat breakfast today? you always forget about eating in the morning. oh, and i left some of those cookies you like in the cabinet next to the fridge. shit i forgot to tell you about them and i bought them like (pause) a month ago, i hope they aren't expired

...five: i called you like six times before i remembered it’s like 4 am back home (laughs) i guess i’m starting to miss you

...six: if coups did send you those messages, please ignore them. i did not push him off the stage

...seven: how was your day? did you do anything exciting? i miss your voice

...eight: it’s already saturday for you so make sure to get a lot of rest. i'll call you after the concert today if i don't end up falling asleep after. and if the kids don't take me out drinking again. i'll just trick joshua to go

...nine: it sucks sleeping alone 

...ten: i think i’m getting old babe, my knees were cracking like crazy today

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @soul-is-a-strange-kid @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @chillseo @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys

#seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen carat #svt reactions #seventeen x you #seventeen reactions #seventeen kpop #svt fluff #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan svt #jeonghan seventeen #jeonghan x you #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x y/n #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan recs #jeonghan fluff #svt jeonghan #jeonghan #seventeen reaction #seventeen imagine #seventeen scenarios

[hannieehaee]

Hi!! Could you do a fic where Jeonghan is being the menace that he is, but his partner is the only one who can quell him with one look pls? Like he is just super soft w her and always listens cos he’s a simp?

content: simp!jeonghan, established relationship, afab reader, slightly suggestive, etc.

wc: 1156

a/n: this was based on that one scene from nana tour in which jeonghan basically waterboarded mingyu for absolutely no reason (ik he was on a mission but he drenched him ?!\>\£). hope u enjoy <3

masterlist

jeonghan was always known to be a bit of a menace by all his friends.

well, maybe even more than just his friends. after all, there was a reason why he was often called the loki of seventeen by many of his fans.

he was simply a bit unconventional in the ways in which he found entertainment, such as the time in which he berated dokyeom into searching for bugs for them to eat on the streets. he simply had a tendency for bugging his members (out of love, of course), becoming an extra obstacle in their lives just for the fun of it.

now, jeonghan also had a heart of gold and far too much love for his brothers to ever actually cause any harm to them. however, after over a decade of knowing his brothers, he had somehow conditioned them to accept his odd behaviors and simply go along with his shenanigans whenever he felt like acting up.

you, as well as his members, always found great entertainment in his weird behaviors. i mean, it takes a great man to be able to cheat his way through every single game without consequence.

despite finding humor in his ways, you would sometimes have a tendency to put a halt to it. a simple whine of 'hannie!' would have him stopping in his tracks and murmuring against your ear as he whined back but relented at you. what you didn't know, however, was that you were the only person who held this power over jeonghan (even his sister would occasionally fall victim to his menacing ways).

today was one of the many instances in which jeonghan grew bored while at practice, deiciding to wreck havoc just for the hell of it. it was easy for him to spot a victim, – it was usually mingyu – which then lead him to approach him with the illest of intentions. there was never much thinking that went into teasing his members. it was just second nature to him by now. so when he eyed the water bottle in mingyu's hand, even the other members who were standing nearby could see what jeonghan's next move would be.

he was patient with it; engaging in conversation as he usually would as to not draw suspicion. jeonghan realized in that moment that maybe his instincive need to bug mingyu for no reason might be something to look into, but that would come some other day. for now, he wanted a quick laugh.

jeonghan saw his opening the moment mingyu uncapped his bottle and brought it to his lips, taking advantage of his calculated proximity to tilt the end of the bottle in order to drench mingyu's face, causing the man to almost choke on the water he'd been drinking.

as expected, this began a mini war between the two boys, as five minutes later they were both attacking each other with any and every water bottle they could find in their vicinity, even going as far as causing collateral damage to a few of the other members. what jeonghan hadnt planned, however, was a sudden visit from you, who had walked in just as jeonghan squirted yet another water bottle directly at mingyu's face.

"jeonghan!", you scolded as soon as you were in earshot, "leave him alone, you got him all drenched!", you were now standing next to the group, frown on your face as you took in the scene.

"baby? what are you doing here? did you–"

"don't 'baby' me. why are you bugging mingyu again? look at him! he's completely wet."

"i got water in my eye!," whined the tall man, taking advantage of your defense for him.

by now, a few of the members nearby were snickering at the swift turn of events, entertained by not just the water fight but the way in which you immediately sided with mingyu rather than your boyfriend.

"i'm wet too! how do you know he didn't start it?", tried jeonghan, knowing full well that the idea was unconvincing.

"hannie, don't lie to me."

"okay, fine. i got bored, okay? it's just water, baby. it's fine. right, mingyu?"

"dude, you fucked up my hair," mingyu didnt seem truly offended, but more so wanting to feed the flames now that he had an opportunity. jeonghan could tell by the slight smirk on his face.

the frown remained on your face, continuing to come in mingyu's defense for some reason unknown to jeonghan.

"jeonghan, apologize to him."

"what?", his wide and incredulous eyes turned to look at you, ignoring the snort he was pretty sure seungkwan had just let out.

"you heard me."

"but–"

"hannie!"

"f– fine," like a petulant child, jeonghan turned to mingyu and gave him a forced smile, "i'm sorry for getting you wet, gyu."

"than–"

"thank you", you interrupted the man.

jeonghan couldnt help but feel scolded by you. it was rare that you actually ever went against his shenanigans, but he did know he could sometimes go a little extra hard on mingyu due to mingyu's disposition to put up with jeonghan with no complaint (usually even fighting back). he was a bit embarrassed by the way in which you sided with him and even berated him in front of his members, but he also knew he could never say no to you, so apologizing just seemed logical to him.

after a few moments of him whining at his members to mind their business and go get their own girlfriends, he dragged you away to a less polluted corner of the practice room to get some one-on-one with you.

"babyyyy," he immediately pouted at you, proceeding to attaching to you like a bear, burying his head into your neck.

"hannie, you're all wet!", you complained despite making no move to push him away, even wrapping your arm around him and running a hand through his damp hair.

"why'd you have to do that? the boys are supposed to think you're obsessed with me," he frowned against your neck.

despite the whine behind his words, you could feel the vibration of his giggles against you and the smile pressed against your neck. as per usual, he was just whining because he could; something which you always found an endearing result to any rare instance in which you'd scold him.

"they're all gonna think im a simp now," he continued.

you giggled at that, causing him to sway you back and forth as he buried himself even deeper against you.

"are you not?", you inquired.

"i am, but they dont need to know that!"

"you're so annoying ..."

"yeah, but you find it fun, don't you?"

"im not at liberty of releasing that information."

he laughed against your neck, reaffirming to himself how much he liked the back and forth between the two of you, even if it meant relenting to you every single time, earning himself the title of simp among his members.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen #svt #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #jeonghan fanfic #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan fluff

[amourcheol]

paris

❝You and Jeonghan, jazz-filled corners, hidden history, and the city of love.❞

old hollywood! au | exes to lovers! au | angst, fluff, smut | 50k words

s u m m a r y : disgraced by hollywood for the last time, you, a once superstar-turned-alcoholic, escape to the city of love to seek sanctuary from the ruthless tabloids. your sanctuary comes in the form of film noir superstar yoon jeonghan, the enigmatic man who taught you the art of acting, lust and love before your fame. when he asks to meet you once, just like old times, you cannot refuse. what is meant to be a simple date turns into a path of passion, pain and everything that comes with fooling around with your ex in the jazz-filled corners of paris. 

c o n t e n t s : actor! mc, actor! jeonghan, mc is bitter and makes bad decisions, agent! seungkwan who is tired of fixing them, jeonghan is the suavest, sultriest mf, mentions of parisian landmarks in this fic during the golden hollywood era, also a bit of french peppered throughout, greek mythology art references, tons of fluff which is also layered with angst, quite hurt-comfort mature warnings -> alcohol consumption and abuse, smoking, this is basically sexual tension with plot, making out, oral sex (f. receiving) unprotected sex (refer point to bad decisions), multiple orgasms, jeonghan worships mc fr, praises galore, slightly angsty love-making, basically this is going to be an emotional rollercoaster 

p l a y l i s t : here!

t a g l i s t : at the bottom of the fic

a u t h o r ’ s  n o t e : she is here...finally...longer author’s note at the bottom of the fic but RIP to y’alls tumblr on mobile </3 thank you for reading and thank you ysl jeonghan you will always be the most iconic mf on the planet !! anyways enjoy <33

THE LOS ANGELES MIRROR, 28TH SEPTEMBER, 1954

_____ SEEN FOR THE FIRST TIME AFTER FOX SCANDAL AT LAX!

Scandalised Princess of Hollywood was finally spotted after a week, hurrying into Los Angeles International Airport in the early hours of the morning!

The last time we reported on her was to announce Fox Productions terminating her contract after having a vicious altercation with her movie director and producer. As if showing up on set drunk and high out of your mind is not enough, but lashing your tongue out at the big boys? Our Princess has exceeded too many limits within her Kingdom, and is now running away like a traitor! 

We bring exclusive photos of her interacting with our reporters just before airport security stopped us—though, judging by the expression on her face, and the message on her hand, she may not be too pleased to see us…

We wonder, readers, where she plans to run away. Some sources say that she may look for sanctuary in New York, but there is a likelihood that she may be crossing the Atlantic! Our colleagues in London and Paris anticipate her arrival, but who knows? Maybe our disgraced actress has places even the most shrewd of our reporters cannot find.

Worry not, though, readers! We will bring more news should she be brave enough to show herself in public again!

In the meantime, read on to see which famous superstar has just landed in Paris for his world-class premier…!

YOU ALWAYS WONDERED WHETHER ONE COULD SLEEP FOREVER.

Not die—death was too serious. Death meant going somewhere else, confronting your entire life within seconds. Death was excruciating, death was isolation, death was the end.

But sleep? Sleep could be forever, but it was temporary. You knew that if you slept, you would always wake up. No matter what happened to you the night before, your eyes would open to the morning light breaking through your curtained-windows. 

This time, you wished you did not see such light.

The morning sunshine glared through the heavy lids of your eyes, using all its strength to try and snap open your eyes. You remained stubborn, turning away from the window. Your fingertips lazily held a curved glass, not quite sure what it contained.

Red wine. From last night.

Red wine, which had no doubt stained your bedsheets. 

You let out a low, sluggish curse, holding onto your dirty champagne glass. Yes, sleep could be forever, and it was precisely that fact which made you wish you were slumbering once more.

However, exterior forces always found a way to sneak past your already weak defences. 

Exterior forces like the beginning of the new day, refusing to let you stay in the refuge of the night. Exterior factors like the damning thoughts of your mind, reminding you of how disastrously you could have messed up the night before.

Exterior forces like a jug-full of ice cold water thrown at your face. 

The moment the water hit your face you let out a shocked screech, flinching all over as you snapped open your eyes. A high-pitched fuck! flew from your mouth as you sat up, creasing at the soreness of your muscles, still reeling from the few-hours sleep you managed to salvage. The moment you gained consciousness the worst possible headache tormented you, and you had to hold your head in your hands, groaning at the cold tingling your skin. Of course, your hangover would come crashing now, numbing your brain.

“Be thankful I did not fill up the entire jug,” was the icy snarl you were greeted with.

You groaned at the voice, slowly turning your head to face the man who was hell-bent on murdering you. “One day, Seungkwan,” you rasped out, coughing immediately afterwards, “Someone is going to punch you in the face, and I will watch and laugh at you.” 

He towered over your crumbling figure as he stood at the edge of your bed. “Why stop at punching me? I wish someone would put a gun to my head and blast my brains out!” He brought his hands to his hips, holding a folded newspaper. “At least then I won’t have to witness your daily screw-ups!”

“What are you talking about?” you mumbled, blinking back to clear your hazy vision. When you craned your head back, your agent’s glare had you recoiling. “God, don’t do that to your face…not a good look on you.”

The glare soured even more. “Be angry? Go to Hell, ______! I have every right to be angry at you!” 

“What have I done this time?”

“Only gone and left this goddamn room, drunk enough to be jailed for indecency!” He closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if reliving a rather painful memory. “One of the receptionists off duty brought you back here and reported it to me! 

“Oh…I see.”

“That is it? Just an I see? My God, I should be paid more for this!” He pointed to the entrance. “You know the receptionist was about to report you for indecent behaviour! I had to shut her up with a couple hundred dollars! Do you know how much that is in francs?” 

You were about to guess a wildly wrong answer. 

“That was a rhetorical question!” He crowed. “I doubt you would have known the answer anyway, seeing as you enjoy spending these francs more than taking them into account!”

“Whatever,” you muttered, raising your knees so you could hug your legs. “What is done is done.”

“Don’t whatever me,” he snapped, slapping the newspaper he held down on the bedside table. “You do nothing but get drunk—” A pointed finger towards the empty glass— “Waste yourself away in your room, and when you somehow have the will to try and do your job, you always do something to screw it up! You need to just—ugh!” He stopped himself, looking away as he swept a hand through his hair, blazer rising. 

You knew he wanted to go on—you knew he was stopping himself, if only to save the scraps of dignity that still resided within you. You looked at the empty bottles scattered in your room, along with the tabloids, pages open to the columns which wrote about you from weeks ago.

“Did you get an answer for the chemistry read?” 

Seungkwan seemed to have an infinite amount of glowers in his arsenal. “Do not get me started on your fucking chemistry read.”

Your confusion had him breathing through his nose. “They said to me, and I quote, ‘Don’t ever let her inside the audition house again’.”

You had the nerve to chuckle. 

“Laugh at your failure one more time, and I’ll throw water at you again.”

That killed off any amusement.

Your dear agent, and apparent dearer friend sighed. “Get your act together, _____,” he said, crossing your arms as he turned on his heel, navigating through the rubbish you had compiled in your room. “Goodness sake, _____, this is a five star hotel! Could you treat it as such?! If those damned reporters saw the state of your room…” he shuddered. “The poor housekeeping staff…”

“Don’t you start judging me,” you sneered. “I have enough of it from the press.”

Seungkwan pursed his lips. “You are fortunate that the press have not seen you once here. God forbid some late-night reporter saw you stumbling in the Ritz halls instead…they would have eaten you alive.”

You furrowed your brows. 

The two of you knew that the media would have released something horrendous about you, regardless of whether you were drunk and disorderly, or sober and charismatic. You were not fortunate to have avoided them—you were skillful. You would have died than catch yourself in front of the cameras in this city.

Even if you nearly caused a blunder yesterday.

“Whatever,” Seungkwan began, glancing at his watch.

“Oh, so you can say ‘whatever’ to me, but I am not allowed?”

A scathing look. 

“I can, dear _____, because I do not have consequences to bear, since I do not commit such stupid actions. You are wasting away in a five-star hotel you cannot afford, you are butchering auditions you need to resume your career, and you are drinking and rotting in your room when you should be finding a way to climb out of this scandal!” 

When he saw your stunned expression, he let out a harsh breath. “Or maybe you can throw me a goddamn bone, and actually try to help yourself! God knows I am trying to get you out of the mess you have created.” 

Well—suppose he could not stop himself.

The silence that followed his declarations had you shifting uncomfortably on your bed. When you continued to avert his gaze, he shook his head, realising that you will not do a thing about your problems. 

You hated when he did that—as if you were solely responsible for your downfall.

“Right.” He dusted at his blazer, looking to the door. “I have a few calls to make before I go to the Louvre this evening.”

That had your brow raising. “The Louvre? That is a bit random, no?”

“Well, if you have dragged me to this god-awful city, then I suppose I better explore it.” When you opened your mouth, he cut you off, “And no, you cannot come with me.” He raised his finger to quieten you once again. “No, no! I refuse to have a dozen reporters following after me every time I look at an old stone.”

You gaped at him in disbelief. “So you’re just…leaving me here?!”

His saccharine smile hit a nerve. “You and I both know I am not leaving you here…you seem to stay here just fine on your own!”

You scowled. “I hope the press catches you in the Louvre.”

“I will be sure to send them your way, then!”

He earned a harsh groan from you, gesturing towards the entrance. “Get out, Seungkwan!” 

“With pleasure,” he simpered, making his way to the door. “Do not forget the readings for next week!” 

“Whatever!”

His eyes never left yours, souring with your reply as he twisted the doorknob, opening the entrance. “Whatever to you too!” 

And he was out of the door before you could curse him outright. 

When you were sure he would not bother you again, you quickly grabbed the half-empty bottle of wine, unscrewing the cap. 

With no regrets you indulged in the alcohol, hoping it would soothe your hangover even if you knew acutely well that it never did.

So what if Seungkwan did not wish to enjoy the museum with you? To Hell with him—you can admire the art quite perfectly by yourself. 

But to go outside…

That was the one great difficulty.

You sneaked a glance at the window, grimacing at the sun brightly shining on its Parisian subjects. 

Your agent was right—you were fortunate to avoid the press this far.

The last time they caught you was in LA, and once again, there was something positive at play when they could not figure out the destination of your flight. It had been more than a couple of weeks staying in the Ritz, and still, you had managed to evade them at every corner in the central parts of the city. Though you would never admit this to him, staying at the five-star hotel was not the smartest decision, with its luxury and grandeur and horrendous fees, but you could not help yourself—you needed to feel like a famous actress.

You needed to feel like a star once more.

Of course, those days were becoming more like distant memories. 

Seething, you finished your bottle, slapping it atop the bedside table.

Heaving from your bed, you trudged to your window, swiping the curtains to a close. 

Because of your actions, you could not go outside in the daytime. Yes, you may be safe now, but that wish to roam freely under the sun without the prying eyes of others—it was impossible. If the journalists ever caught you in Paris, you knew that you would not be able to garner the raging, resentful attitude you had back home. This time, you would crumble under the camera flashes, the constant shouting, and be forever the actress that was blacklisted by one of the biggest production companies in Hollywood.

You could have forgiven the press for ruining Los Angeles for you.

You could never excuse them for trying to ruin Paris.

So, with your eyes heavy-lidded and your heart incredibly bitter, you thundered to a certain spot under your bed, bringing out another bottle of wine. 

With your prospects at an all-time low, you unscrewed the cap and continued your journey to intoxication.

THE LOUVRE WAS ALWAYS MORE BEAUTIFUL IN THE NIGHT.

You had never noticed it before, but with half the lights dimmed, no sneaking eyes to prey on your every move—the vast museum had become a safe-haven to your sluggish movements.

Perhaps the guards should have noticed a drunk, failing actress and stopped her in her routes, but none batted an eye as you sauntered in from one of the less popular entrances. Of course, you feigned your best nonchalant, sober appearance, and it seemed to have worked a charm. 

At least your acting talents had not vanished with your fame.

You were hit with the vast collections at the very beginning, artworks and objects from all corners of the world. With every step there was another artifact—broken stone aged from the 2nd century BC, a medieval portrait of some foreign king, carpets embroidered in the age of the Ottomans. 

You did not care for these specific wonders.

No, you walked on, a slight determination in your step as you walked past the earlier Egyptian wonders, the Greek and Roman antiquities as you turned a right, finding yourself in the more modern sections. Even so, paintings had never fascinated you as much as other mediums. Paintings, you found, could be celebrated regardless of the amount of work one applied onto the image. Whether it was Renaissance masterwork, or simple rebellious lines of paint over an empty canvas, both could be deemed masterpieces.

What was undisputed, though, was the sheer talent of the sculptors.

Your eyes gazed over the vast, open room. 

Ah!

The marble columns were in their dozens, etched to the sides of the hall as they arched over onto the ceiling. Underneath them scattered an abundance of white sculptures—scenes from mythology, depictions of Roman generals or early modern emperors were settled together, as if they were all linked by the marble from which they were birthed. 

You could not help taking the hasty steps forward, admiring the citizens of marble. You admitted that you did not like art much, but these people before you were something else entirely. They were full of life, given the breath of the human soul, yet were completely lifeless. They looked exactly like you, had limbs like yours, exposed happiness, grief, anger identical to you, but they were frozen, as if paused in their ministrations.

They were the only bodies that could not judge you. 

Closing up on a closer sculpture, admiring the physique of the Greek god, your sight further wandered, trying to find a particular piece that you used to admire many years ago. You distinctly remembered the piece depicting gods too, male and female—you could not recall their names, but the first time you had witnessed such a work, you had been completely shaken. You bit your lip, trying to recollect its location.

You knew it had to be in this room. 

The specific sculpture, which you had seen in the very height of your fame—the very centre of your happiness. 

Steps quickening a little, you focused on each carved figure—no, no, no, you repeated in your mind, the memories stagnant. However, you were certain that the piece had been here the last time you had entered the museum.

The man who was with you that time made sure you witnessed such a sculpture. 

A smile as ghost-like as the memory etched onto your lips. 

Your gaze scoured the room, catching the far-right corner, right next to the hall entrance.

There. 

The sculpture was supposed to be there.

But the work of art was not present.

No—instead of two lifeless figures, there was a living being standing in its place.

You blinked.

The figure’s back was to you—clad in black, your stare struggling to distinguish the details. Fully silhouetted from you, you decided to take a step forward, your heeled-boots making much too loud a noise.

The phantom turned around.

You felt the world sway beneath you.

That was a face you could recognise in any corner of the world—forget the old walls of this gallery. 

It was the man of your memories.

Memories of a long time ago, too long ago, when you were young and wild and free and alive. Your hallucinations had outdone themselves this time, with the way they portrayed the figure of your past. He looked just as he had done the last time you had stepped in this gallery—half of his midnight hair swept under a beret of the same colour, burgundy trench-coat half buttoned, tied at the front. His face was blurry still, but you could not mistake his dark eyes. 

Dark, intense, mystical eyes that were rooted to you.

Perhaps this was delirium—consequences of the alcohol, repercussions of dreaming up times of your past which did not bring great despair. This man before you, not ten feet from you, was not real. He was simply a figment of your imagination, because a man like that did not exist in the spheres of your existence.

Not anymore. 

Shaking your head, you took a step forward.

The apparition took a step backward.

Ah. You smiled. Staying away from you. As ghosts always do.

With great hesitancy, you continued, walking ever so slowly towards the vision.

The vision, in turn, took the exact amount of steps opposite from you. 

Continuing this strange game, you lead the apparition back into the maze of sculptures. So bizarre, the way he perfectly circled each piece, as if he was aware of every marble-figure that rested in the room. One step forward, one step back—one heel of yours that progressed, one boot of his that receded. 

The longer this went on, the quicker your pace became, the quicker he matched it. It almost became a fool’s errand, swirling around the marble spectators as they watched your fruitless flight with melancholy stares. You scowled as you saw the only moving eyes dancing underneath the limited moonlight.

Your visions of madness were beginning to aggravate you.

Soon, you were back in the place that the fated sculpture was supposed to be, the exit behind you. The vision stood amidst the floods of sculptures, you refusing to accept who was teasing the chase. 

You had had enough. 

With one last look at the dream-like illusion, you turned to exit, run out from the gallery to escape your past. 

It was at that moment that the past caught you. 

“Tired of me again, chérie?”

You stilled. 

The entire room, the world stilled, more frozen than the statues around you.

When you truly comprehended the origins of the voice, you whirled around. All thoughts abandoned you the second you truly saw the apparition.

Good God. That was not some apparition. 

You could barely speak.

“J-Jeonghan?”

Yoon Jeonghan. The most famous actor in the world.

He smiled a little, and everything came crashing back—God, he looked so different, yet the exact same since the last time you had seen him. Granted, he dominated every television screen, every cinema theatre, so you never really escaped his existence, but it had been eons since he graced you with his physical presence. 

What had not changed in the slightest was his undeniable charm; he was as beautiful as he was the last time he was in front of you, more so after all these years. He had grown exquisitely into his features—his cheek bones heightened, his soft, delicate nose, coral lips stretching wider the further you examined him. His eyes—his magical, arched eyes—glimmered in the moonlight which shone through the huge windows. A few of his stray locks freed themselves from his beret, accentuating his tenderness—a feature which never left his face.

For a moment, you saw the twenty year old boy, fresh out of drama school, outside of the audition house.

For a second, you forgot why you were here in the first place.

“Bonjour, _____.”

You did not have the voice to greet him back.

Not when you realised the situation the second he said your name—who you were, why the hell you were in this city in the first place. 

Shit.

You could not do this today.

Suddenly, you wished he was a mere figment of your imagination, because then he would not have to see you in your drunken, disordered state, looking for art that was not there, looking for the past in the present.

But then he began to move.

This very real presence walked closer to you, and you felt your entire body constricting, because Yoon Jeonghan was in front of you. The greatest star in the world was approaching you, the man of your distant memories was coming too close.

“Wait,” he then said, and your throat was closing up, you were blinking rapidly, chest growing heavy, and you needed him to get away. He came closer, and you knew then and there you were going to die on the cold floor of the Louvre, marble eyes on you—

And then your own gaze was glistening, and when he noticed it became harder to contain yourself. “_____, are you all right?”

“Yes!” you got out, but then you proved yourself wrong when a few tears slipped out, staining your cheeks.

The man wasted no time, closing the last space between the two of you as he reached out. Instantly, you repelled from his touch, almost flinching from his surprise. “No!” you rasped out, bringing out your own hands to create distance, taking a step back. “No, you don’t need to do that…I’m fine.” 

You breathed sharply through your nose. “I am fine.”

Hastily you turned to the empty space where he last was, before you followed him like a madwoman around the hall. He watched you, your back almost to him. “What…what are you…” you paused, trying to normalise your shaking voice. “What are you doing here?”

You could feel his inquisitive stare upon you. “I could ask you the same thing.”

That question was not being answered. “I asked you first.”

Because you could not see him, you were not aware of his reaction. Still, it was enough for him to answer, “Well, in the Louvre, or in Paris?”

You gritted your teeth at that. “I think everyone knows why you’re in Paris at the moment.”

“Do they, now?”

You could not help it.

Casting a momentary glance at him, you were taken aback to find his gaze upon you. “Are you aware, at least?” he asked you.

Despite his simple questions, your impending headache, you had to clamp down on your remarks. “Of course I’m aware,” you muttered. “The papers are all over the press tours you’ve been doing.”

A perfectly groomed brow arched at your comment. “I’m surprised you follow the papers at the moment.” 

You knew exactly what he meant. “One must keep check of the stories they gossip about,” you only said, focusing back on the empty space. “Those journalists cannot be trusted.”

“Hmm…” you heard shuffling amongst his clothes—no doubt crossing his arms. “I have read the stories.”

A scoff. “I suppose you believe them, don’t you?”

He noted the cruelty in your response. The actor did not take it to heart.

“I have always believed in the stories you told me, chérie.”

This time, curiosity controlled your movement.

Curiosity had you turning back, forcing you to observe his expression, catch his lie. 

But you found no deception.

No, there was only sincerity—pure as the moonlight shining on the two of you.

Chérie.

The last time someone had called you such a sweet name was a lifetime ago.

How ironic, that it was the same man beside you who had bestowed you this very endearment.

A shuddered breath left you. 

You could not do this now.

You were going to say as much when Jeonghan interrupted you.

“Were you looking for something in here?”

Your furrowed brows had him humming. “I thought as much.” Gently, he jerked his head beyond your figure. “Strangely enough, I was looking for it as well.”

Confused, you glanced back at the empty space, where that certain, mysterious sculpture was supposed to be. “That is why I came to the Louvre,” you heard him say.

There was still suspicion laced in your features. “How do you know that we are thinking of the same piece?”

That ghost of a smile crept up again. “You act as if you don’t remember.”

Your sigh was sheepish. “I do,” you said, reminiscing on the memories. “But the name…”

No matter how hard you endeavoured, your memory of the sculpture, and its identity, was too hazy for your half-drunk mind. 

You searched him for an answer. “I’m sure you have not forgotten.”

“No…I have not.”

You waited. His silence had you insisting, “Well?”

When you saw a slight glimmer in his whimsical gaze, you knew that he had something else in mind. The implications had you biting your lower lip, anxiety blooming.

The nerves grew when Jeonghan spoke.

“I will tell you if you see me tomorrow.”

You blinked back.

“There’s an exhibition opening here tomorrow afternoon,” he continued, taking a step towards you, careful not to startle you again. “It’s centred on the sculpture we both wanted to see, but it’s been moved to another hall.”

He confused you a great amount. “How do you know that?”

His stare went beyond you, to the wall. “It says on the plaque.”

Sure enough—when you looked back, there was the notice. Because your French was adequate at best, you did not understand it fully. You simply had to trust his linguistic abilities.

That you could do—you were aware of Jeonghan’s fluency in the language of love. 

He cocked his head, a few strays cascading the side of his face. “You and I could see it there.”

The offer had shaken you. “Why?”

“Why?”

You knitted your brows suspiciously. “Why do you want to go with me?”

The film noir star watched you then, you shuffling uncomfortably under his scrutiny. God, you forgot how intense his eyes were—in fairness, you had not been the subject of his stares for a few years. 

He locked his gloved hands behind his back. “Because you need a break, _____. From everything.”

He offered you a smile. “Let me be the one to give you that. If only for the day.”

You could have crumbled before him.

It was at this stage you cursed yourself for being in such a state. Perhaps if you were sober, you would have carried on this conversation in a more respectable manner, taken more caution.

It was incredibly difficult, composing yourself around the man.

“I can’t…” you inhaled sharply, trying to form the words. “I cannot do midday…too many people, you know…staring, judging…”

“Ah.” He nodded, parting his mouth in thought. “Then tomorrow night?”

Stretching your mouth, unsure, he assured, “They will not follow you here at this hour.”

“How are you so sure of that?”

This time, he sighed, surprised at your anxiousness. “I see you’ve not changed, then.”

You narrowed your gaze. “What is that supposed to mean?”

But the actor did not seem like he was going to elaborate. 

He instead took another step towards you, a mere two feet left. 

“Do you trust me?”

You tilted your head back. 

What kind of question was that?

Do you trust me?

You did not trust anyone. Not after this whole debacle back home, when almost all your friends within the industry had contributed to your downfall. Hollywood was filled with traitors, the worst being the people who haunted the journey of your disgrace at every moment.

It was impossible to place any ounce of faith in another.

As you watched his eyes settle on you, you noticed an emotion you had not witnessed in forever.

Tenderness.

Tenderness with no ulterior motive—gentle acceptance, as if he recognised your position. As if he recognised your change, the apprehensive nature of your questions, your pauses. It physically hurt being stained with such compassion, when you had been begging for it from the world all those weeks ago.

It hurt, having someone who understood you.

You, however, should not have been surprised.

Yoon Jeonghan had always been like this. Especially when you both were together.

You could have smiled. 

What a time that was.

As if he could read your mind, the film noir star began, “You remember, don’t you? That I’ve never let you down?”

You decided to let yourself slip—you could always blame it on the alcohol. 

“What time do you want me here tomorrow?”

His eyes widened slightly—relief. “This hour. They will not follow us here.”

Nodding hesitantly, you then realised just what hour it was, and inwardly cursed. Seungkwan was going to murder you.

“I…I need to be getting back,” you said, gaze falling to the entrance. “It’s quite late.”

He followed your trail of sight. “Let me walk you to your hotel,” he offered. “I can’t have you stumbling around in Paris at this hour.”

Forever the gentleman. “It’s only a fifteen minute walk from here.”

“All the easier to walk with you, no?”

You averted his stare. “Hmm.”

There was a growing feeling that he was still looking at you. 

His voice morphed a little amusement when he said, “Should we start walking, are you going to spend the night avoiding my gaze?”

Cheeks heating, you gestured to the stairs, deigning only a second-glance. “I’m not…” you trailed off, finding it difficult to lie to him. “Let’s go.”

His eyes followed the stairs. “After you.”

Obliging, your heels conquered the low, marble stairs, his phantom presence right behind you. You took the same route, this time reversed as you tried to exit the museum, the actor pointing out a few works you had missed on the journey to the sculpture hall.

Once you both were out of the gallery, the cool Parisian air kissed your face in greeting. The city had been cloaked by the night, the moon bathing the sanded-stone streets grey, a myriad of stars twinkling in welcome. A heavy sigh fell from your lips, taking in the mellow atmosphere of the coming autumn. 

“Never before…has someone been more…”

Cars could be heard in the distance, a sweet forties’ song tuning in from the neighbouring streets. The noise of the citizens grew louder as you both left the borders of the Louvre Palace, walking along the road. 

“Unforgettable…in every way…”

Jeonghan’s hands went to the top of his trench-coat, lifting up the lapels. Consequently, the sides of his face were hidden from view, effective enough for far-away onlookers to avoid guessing his identity. You, on the other hand, forgot your face mask, but a bitter feeling inside you knew that you did not need it.

Compared to the man beside you, you were nothing.

You hated how envious you had become.

“Why the frown?”

Perking up at his question, you shrugged, not wishing to elaborate over your unreasonable emotions. “Nothing. Simply tired.”

Fixing his beret, he asked, “Oh? Are you working on something?”

You shook your head, quirking your mouth to the side. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” A hint of sarcasm slipped into your response, without control. “One can’t find much work when one is scandalised from the industry.”

“One won’t be able to find work, dear _____,” he countered, “If one is hiding from the industry.”

“One is not hiding,” you griped. “One is…thinking. Figuring out one’s situation.”

A lingering, incredulous look. “One needs to travel across an entire continent to think?”

This time, you returned it—surprised him with your misery. “When one’s situation is this bleak, even travelling across continents is not enough.”

Jeonghan’s melancholic frown had you looking ahead. “Whatever,” you said, “At least Seungkwan has not given up on me.”

The name had the actor almost lighting up. “Seungkwan? He’s here with you?”

“I dragged him with me when I left LA.” You huffed out a chuckle. “Poor bastard has been finding auditions for me in every corner of this place. I don’t think he realises that no one actually wants me amidst…all this.”

Turning into another slimmer road, your company slowed his stride. “You will climb up from this. Every actor in Hollywood has had a scandal, some worse than yours!”

“It’s been weeks, Jeonghan!” you exclaimed, growing restless. Noticing a few heads rise from your slight outburst, you tried to sober your speech. “I just…I don’t think I can come back from this.”

His tone softened, a mere muttering. “You cannot give up hope.”

You did not deign him a glance. “There is no more hope to give up.”

The actor was silenced by your declaration.

The two of you did not say much more, walking on the roads until you reached your hotel, marked by the tall, bronze column, a statue of famed, Corsican general at the very top. 

When Jeonghan regarded the sheer luxury of your residence, he quirked a groomed brow. “For someone with no job, you sure are living like a blockbuster actress.”

Your sour glare his way had him laughing softly. “I still have funds from my earliest hits,” you crowed. “And why shouldn’t I live like a star?”

“I wonder how Seungkwan feels about your opinion,” he pondered, greatly entertained. “Last time I remember he promised to fix your spendthrift habits.”

Crossing your arms, you strolled closer to the hotel. “He’s not kept his word, then. I am a pauper living like a princess.”

He followed your trail. “That’s because you were a princess once.” His hands slid in his pockets. “Ruling over cinema.”

The grand doors of the Ritz were right in front of you. “And now the king of film wishes to associate with his disgraced subject.”

But this king, face half-hidden from the crowd, only observed you in the lamplights. “No, it is…simply two people from the past, catching each other in the present.”

You shuddered out an exhale. 

It was not as if he was wrong.

Jeonghan was a figure of the past—since your publicised breakup with him, the two of you had never really spoken, an offence you supposed you could not rest at his door. You had seen him everywhere in your time in LA, but you knew he had been erased from your future. 

You never thought you would see him in that gallery room.

Even now, blinking back your booze-induced drowsiness, you wondered if he truly was in the present—here, before you, in all his fantastical, otherworldly glory. He stood, trying to read you like a new screenplay, uncovering the plot, the conflicts of your person, and you wondered whether he would succeed. 

He had always been so wonderfully perceptive. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” you said to him.

The stare was prevalent when he asked, “Like what?”

When you started pursing your mouth at him, he huffed mirthfully through his nose. “Fine.”

“I am all right, you know,” you muttered. “Always was, always will be.”

“Will you be?”

You did not answer his question.

Of course you will not be all right—but he did not need to know this.

“Goodnight, Jeonghan.”

Turning your back to him, you made to enter the hotel.

“It was good to see you.”

His voice paused your movement. 

“You know…after so long.”

A look over your shoulder—you watched him in his long-hair, bereted, midnight glory. His lapels had drooped, exposing his face much more, but he did not seem to care so much—not as much as you would have, in his place. 

When you deigned him a response, you blamed the remaining alcohol in your system for such candid honesty.

“It was good to see you too.”

With that, you turned, a haste in your step as you slipped inside the hotel.

LE FRANCE-SOIR, 30TH SEPTEMBER, 1954

WORLD STAR YOON JEONGHAN SPOTTED ENTERING THE LOUVRE NEAR MIDNIGHT!

Our favourite actor was seen going inside our landmark museum in the late hours of the night, unaccompanied and hidden. It has only been a week since he has arrived in the city, and although he is here for his movie’s promotion, he clearly sees Paris as more than just a stop in a press tour! 

Our readers must be aware of Jeonghan being an avid art enthusiast. Many a time he has expressed his admiration for the classical masters, as well as the contemporary scene that is growing popular in major cities in Europe. Maybe, once the film is released, he will stay longer with us, and indulge in Parisian culture.

Until then, enjoy the pictures of our star, smiling at the cameras!

YOU WERE STILL UNSURE WHETHER YOU HAD TRULY MET JEONGHAN.

The trek back to your room had been occupied with your thoughts, debating whether you had truly encountered a man of that influence, merely sauntering in a gallery. Of course, you were aware that you had not crossed the point of pure delusion, but you had hallucinated in the past while intoxicated.

You had even woken up in a daze, undisturbed by Seungkwan’s usual calls to trudge into audition houses. This time, it seemed as if he left you alone, which was incredibly fortunate, seeing as you had plans for today.

You considered mentioning your strange, unexpected meeting to him, but then you held back, resorting to pacing in your room. You doubted whether he would believe it, seeing his exasperation with your recent behaviour.

If you told your agent that you were somehow meeting a renowned ex-boyfriend, whose very presence beside you would ruin his reputation and revive yours, then he would have truly had a heart attack. That would not be the most ideal situation, considering he was the very reason you were not completely ruined. 

Satisfied with your decision, you resorted to staying in your hotel room, scouring through the very tabloids that tormented you over information you had not bothered searching for before. Sure enough, it was not difficult finding his name within the texts—if you had columns written about you, then Jeonghan had pages, singing praises of his upcoming film. You hated how bitter you were, seeing his stellar reviews, barely anything negative about his behaviour. You knew that such popularity had to be a double-edged sword, but the man had managed to maintain the perfect balance without harm.

A scowl marred your features. Of course you had to be pricked with the downsides of fame.

Throwing the magazines to the side, you debated ordering a bottle of wine, but then immediately shook your head.

Tonight, you could not be drunk around him. You needed your thoughts to be settled when you saw him again, because you had a feeling that he was very capable of rattling them. Not that you had feelings to evidence this—your ex-lover possessed a rare trait to render you nervous in his presence. 

The rest of the day was spent thinking about the late night encounter, and when night had fallen, you prepared yourself for the next meeting. You settled for soft colours, white button-up shirt and a pink long-skirt, hem caressing your shins. Slipping on your heels, you perched a half-hat upon your hair. Taking hold of a face mask, you slipped it on, hoping it would hide you from the incoming press. 

Satisfied, you took your handbag, leaving the room and locking the door behind you.

Leaving the Ritz, you were relieved to find no one recognising you as you walked out of the entrance, calling a cab on the street. It was only five minutes to the Louvre, so you did not have to wait until you arrived at the destination. Paying the fare, you exited the vehicle, slipping into the museum through its main entrance.

Although you were expecting the grand, ornate hallways of the once-palace-turned-gallery, what you did not prepare yourself for was two guards approaching you. 

Their stern greeting was laced heavily with their accents. “‘Scuse-moi madame, the museum is closed.”

“You cannot be here!”

Instantly, you recoiled from them, irritation spreading as you brought down your mask. “But I came here at the same time yesterday!”

“The museum has closed early today for a private showing,” the other guard explained, reaching out to guide you back out. “We apologise for the inconvenience, but—”

“Who the hell is renting out the Louvre for themselves?” you demanded, waving off the men who tried to escort you out. “All right, all right, I’m leaving, goodness!”

Grumbling, you made to leave, security right behind you to make sure of it.

That was when you heard a familiar, sultry voice.

“Elle est avec moi ce soir.”

The guards turned around, taking you in their direction.

Your eyes widened at the sight of him.

There, just across from you, Jeonghan stood, looking as if he had stolen the night and etched its darkness into his attire. This time, his trench-coat, beret, trousers were all bathed in the black, almost silhouetting against the shadows of the hall. His stretched hand gestured to you as he focused on the men that wished you out.

Then, he glanced at you. “She is with me this evening.”

Security immediately let you go, apologising profusely in French as you dusted at your shirt. You dipped your neck in acceptance, a sheepish expression upon your face because you could not respond to them. Once the actor stepped closer to you, he ordered a few things in his Parisian accent, and you wished then that you had practised the language of a country you were so hell-bent on hiding in.

Security soon returned to their original places, leaving the two of you alone.

You, alone with Jeonghan.

The film noir star regarded you with a peculiar enthusiasm. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t come.”

The first urge was to ask him why, but you supposed he was not unfair for saying such a thing. “I was unsure of whether I dreamt you up or not.”

A slight curl of his lips. “Have I given you certainty now?”

You decided to be honest. “Only a little.”

His mouth curled wider. “Well then…” He raised his hand to the world of art before you. “I have the whole night to convince you.”

You should have returned his smile. 

This time, though, you were sober. 

Apprehensively, you walked up to him. Only then he commenced, leading you into another universe, far away from the press, the people, the world and its restrictions.

The only sound as you both walked were the clicks of your heels, the soft thumps of his boots. You wished he would strike a conversation, ease the nerves that decided to enliven within you. You supposed, though, that releasing you of your anxiety was not the actor’s job. It did not help that Jeonghan had never felt a fraction of your nerves.

Probably. It was only a guess—you did not know this Jeonghan, the man that dominated world cinema.

At least he retained his perceptive behaviour, because a minute later, he said, “You will enjoy the exhibition, _____…very nostalgic.”

“Oh?” You admired the gold arches, the intricate detailing of the ceilings. “How so?”

“You’ll see. I don’t want to spoil anything.”

Not particularly satisfied with his response, you targeted him with another question. “Are we truly the only people here?” When he nodded lightly, as if it was the easiest thing to obtain, you had to gawk. “How did you manage to close off the Louvre?”

He slid his hands in his coat pockets. “I suppose being an actor has its benefits.”

Both taking a left, you countered, “I’m an actor, too, but I would never be granted a private audience here.”

“Let me rephrase,” he said, mouth morphing into a smirk, “Being a famous actor has its benefits.”

A crude scoff escaped your throat, unable to contain itself. “Oh my God!”

Your reaction had the man spluttering into laughter, closing his eyes and dipping his head. That only made you scowl all the more, and when he settled into amusement, he brought his face to yours, slowing his walk. 

“Easy, sweetheart,” he mused, “You know I like to tease you.” His eyes regarded your offence, your features slowly easing. “Or have you forgotten how to have a little fun?”

You waved him off, looking beyond his inquisitive gaze. “I have changed plenty since you last met me.”

“Since yesterday?”

A glare. “You know what I mean.”

The man kept silent, merriment lingering in his features as you both slowed your pacing. Huge banners welcomed you over the grand doorway, reciting the name of the exhibition beyond the hall you stopped in.

Another memory penetrated your mind at the name.

LOVE IS LOST, YET LOVE IS FOUND—DEPICTIONS OF CUPID AND PSYCHE.

“Ah…” Jeonghan walked ahead, reading the title. “We’re here.”

Cupid and Psyche.

You remembered why the subjects were so familiar. 

He looked back at you. “Shall we?”

Your vision stayed on the banners for a moment longer before directing it at him, nodding slowly. “Yes…let’s.”

With an uncertain feeling towards the room before you, and even more uncertain feeling towards the man beside you, you entered the exhibition, expecting nothing.

You were welcomed with everything.

Cupids and Psyches were everywhere in the room, depicted within centuries-old pages and ink, oil upon wood and canvas, carved from ancient marble, bathed in every wall and floor of the room. The winged god and his human lover were unmissable in the works of art dedicated to them, and you glanced at the entry paragraphs, discussing the subjects.

Your amazement had the man beside you chuckling. “Stunning, isn’t it?”

“I…” you could not even finish your words, finding the first glass cabinet, where dozens of drawings of the two lovers were shown. “How did you know about this?”

You felt his presence nearby. “You know I never miss an exhibition in Paris.”

One depiction caught your interest—a quick ink drawing of Cupid holding Psyche in his arms, wings resting behind his shoulders. “Still an avid art enthusiast?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Of course.” You could have sworn you felt his eyes on you. “You may have changed, but I have stayed the same.”

You held in the urge to make a face at him. “Fame changes everyone,” you snarled, “And you have received enough to become a new person.”

A pause. “Do you want me to be different?”

You snuck a glance at him—he was occupied by a large painting, this time a clothed Psyche watching over a slumbering Cupid. As you walked closer, investigating it further, the details became clearer, the god engulfed in pillows and darkness, the only light coming from his lover’s lamp. 

You decided not to answer him. You could not—you had nothing to silence him with.

So you moved on, finding little solace in the artwork around you. “What I want,” you said instead, “Is for you to stop bringing me to these exhibitions. I have never enjoyed them as much as you have.”

Listening to his soft chuckling, you heard him say, “Well, that I wish I had forgotten!” He turned around, casting a glance at you. “But don’t abuse the exhibition just yet.”

“I don’t hate it,” you offered, involving yourself in the sculpture work. There were a couple dozen peppered in the far side of the room, each bearing an inscription, and which part of the mythology it depicts.

You read the first tablet. L’Amour et Psyché. It was the same scene, but this particular Psyche was half-nude, gazing over the sleeping Cupid. The detailing on this sculpture was more precise, more life-like. Leaning closer to inspect the winged creature’s face, the innocence moulded into his features had you fully endeared.

You wondered what their story was.

It was not as if you were unaware of what Cupid represented, but everyone had seen him more as a chubby angel-child, holding his arrows of love, ready to strike up trouble. In fact, you had not known that Cupid, too, had been struck by his own weapon over a mere human.

The train of your thoughts would have kept running in the tracks of your mind had a certain man not stopped it suddenly.

“This isn’t the one you were looking for.”

Perking up, you twisted your head to where Jeonghan was. He tilted his head to the furthest artwork, obscured by his figure. Your confused expression had him beaming.

He stepped away from your line of sight.

The star sculpture of the night was unveiled.

By God. That was the one.

Completely dazed, your feet gravitated towards the work of art, becoming clearer the closer you were pulled to its spell. You could not avert your stare from its allure, drinking in its details. Cupid, with utmost gentleness, held Psyche’s lolling head, as if pulling back from a searing kiss. His saved lover stretched her hands towards his curls, naked body resting on the rocks. His wings were outstretched, flaring back, details of his feathers etched into the off-white marble. 

Your cheeks could have burned at the sight of them.

It was as if you were interrupting them—pushing yourself in a moment that was not open to the rest of the world. You could never comprehend how someone could carve such adoration in stone, but the way they gazed at each other had your heart breaking in a million little pieces.

You could have looked at the two lovers forever.

“Psyche revived by Cupid’s Kiss.”

Snapping out of your daze, you saw the actor step beside you, admiring the work before him. “Exquisite, is it not?”

This time, you could not argue with him. “It truly is.”

His eyes slid to where you stood. “Do you remember when we first saw it?”

Your lips threatened to tug upwards. 

That was a memory you could not forget.

Now that you had seen the sculpture, you could recall the first time you had seen it. Interestingly enough, this very man was with you when you exposed the same awe you had just then, peering at the marble lovers as if you had uncovered a secret revelation in their embrace. You could even remember the faint clicking of his camera as he captured your admiration in that photograph. You wondered whether he kept any pictures of you together on your first trip to this city.

But you did not confess such ramblings to him.

No, you only got out, “I do.”

He was satisfied with your answer. “Do you know their story?” A tick of his head to the subjects. “Of them two?”

You shook your head. “I suppose you’ll enlighten me?”

A glance at you. “Only this once.”

You returned it, turning your back to him. “Go on, then,” you said, making to move. “Educate me.”

When you took your first step around the sculpture, Jeonghan commenced.

“Before Cupid came here, Psyche was stuck in an eternal sleep. She let curiosity take the better of her.”

Another slow stride, you observing the stretch of Cupid’s legs, the perched foot. “What happened to her?”

“She was given a jar, filled with divine beauty by Proserpina—Roman Persephone—to give to Venus. She was warned not to open the contents. Curiosity took over her, though, and she opened the jar, desperate to have some of that famed beauty.” 

He slid his hands in his pocket. “However, there was no divine essence in that jar, but the darkest sleep. It was a sleep no one could escape from.”

Gradually, you inspected the detail of the god’s wings, but you were occupied with the storyteller’s words. “And then?”

“What then? She fell into oblivion. A deep sleep that no one could wake her from.”

Although you were hidden from the mythical bodies, you swore your ex’s stare penetrated through marble. “She was considered unsavable, _____. Doomed forever.”

Your throat constricted, steps faltering. You did not understand why it hurt you so much, knowing it was just a story—hell, her fate was revealed in the sculpture’s title.

Still, you asked him, a speck of fear in your voice, “Then?” 

You heard his footsteps edge closer. “Well…Cupid found her sleeping, and touched the tip of his arrow upon her.” 

Sure enough, you spied the quiver of arrows upon his side, strap slung over his shoulder. “And what did that do?”

His presence was near, so near. “He found that…that his love-tipped arrow healed his beloved.”

When you turned, taking the step into view, you found Jeonghan’s eyes rooted to you. Only the curve of Psyche’s hip, perched on the rock, remained between you two.

When the film noir actor parted his mouth, you held onto his every word.

“He saved her, chérie, from her downfall.”

You hitched your breath, unable to move.

You could not look away from him.

“Did he, now?”

“He did.” And when you gulped, his gaze flickered to the bob of your throat, before imprisoning you with his stare once more. “Because he would have done anything to revive his lover’s soul.”

Oh, God.

His words snatched every atom of oxygen in the hall.

You could not do this sober. You could not do this at all.

“Jeonghan, I—” you backed away a little, feeling your heartbeat fastening with every second. “I must go.”

He sensed your sudden panic. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, I just…” you tried to stabilise your breathing. “It’s very late. I should be going back.”

Circling around the sculpture, he removed the obstacle. “Is everything okay?”

You nodded quickly, lungs faltering with each second that passed in his presence. “Yes, I need to just…Seungkwan will be worried.”

Had he not known you for such a long time, he would have questioned you further, freed the real reason out of you.

Tonight, though, he would not pester you.

“All right.”

He ticked his head towards the entrance. “Let’s go.”

The two of you swiftly exited the grand exhibition, the Cupids and Psyches watching you leave—had these statues had even a spark of life, they would have spent it in anticipation, watching the broken couple walk side by side out of the museum.

You dared not speak to him as you left the Louvre, Jeonghan thanking the guards earnestly for their overtime, following after you. Thankfully, the night was still young—the likelihood of any sudden cameras flashing in your face was second to none. 

As you and your companion left the expanse of the Palace, you found a sleek, black Bentley waiting on the large road. Jeonghan hummed out at its recognition, gesturing towards it. “Ah, no need to walk much then.”

Stopping before the luxurious vehicle, you locked your hands behind your back, your gaze upon his face.

His words at the museum came ringing back into your mind.

He saved her, chérie, from her downfall.

Despite the Parisian chill, your face burned. 

“Well…I guess this is it.”

Jeonghan’s face exposed confusion. “Whatever do you mean?”

You raised your brows. “I did say I had to go.”

“No, I know that.” His gaze slid to the car door. “But I assumed I’ll be driving you home.”

In other circumstances, you would have jumped at the chance. Tonight, though, he had spoken some flowery truths, and made your heart uneasy. “No, you don’t have to,” you assured him, looking at your journey back home. “My hotel is only ten minutes away. I wouldn’t mind the walk.”

He then pondered for a moment before making another offer. 

“Take my car.”

You were going to object, but he interrupted, “I know what you’re going to say, but I insist. It’s too late to walk alone.”

“I’ll be fine,” you then insisted. “At least no one would bother me on the way.” You did not know why, but your voice turned sharp. “If you still live in the Passy apartment, then it’s an hour’s walk from here. These journalists will find you at that time.”

Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I think the both of us know that I never cared about the press…whatever they published about me.”

Right. Of course. “I see,” you could only say back, shuffling on your feet.

“_____.”

You paused. 

He stepped forward—careful, as if you would flinch should he come any closer. “Don’t worry about me and take the car.” 

After a hard sigh, you reached out to the car, grabbing the handle. With a tug the backseat door opened. 

You stepped down from the pavement, about to enter the vehicle when you halted.

Turning around, you parted your mouth.

“I didn’t mean to leave so suddenly,” you began, not quite sure where this was heading. “I just…well, thank you, I guess.”

“Thank you?”

“For the ride…” you furrowed your brows, wishing you had kept your mouth shut. “And well, you know…for tonight.”

And for the story of a love lost—and then a love found.

Jeonghan’s smile was infectious—it struck your mouth to curl upwards too.

“You have a good night, _____.”

The response slipped out before you could stop yourself.

“I already have.”

That earned you an outright grin, his nose crinkling near the top. “Have you?”

But now you were flustered, forcing yourself into the car. His soft laughter made you hug your coat tighter around yourself. “Good night,” you muttered, ready to slam the door shut had he not clutched the outside handle. 

Leaning down, he uncovered his face, lopsided as his beaming had you further embarrassed. “At least say it to my face before you close the door on me.”

Your huff was greatly exaggerated. “Have an amazing, fantastic, unforgettable night, Jeonghan,” you hissed.

His eyes danced a waltz that you remembered, all those years ago.

“I already have.”

And before you could say anything more, he closed the door for you, urging the chauffeur to drive on. 

As the man asked you for your destination, you could only mumble out the Ritz’s location, mind in another universe entirely as the Bentley soared to life.

The further you drove from the enigmatic actor, the more you strained your neck, trying to catch a sight of him through the back glass. Settling back down, you bit your bottom lip, clutching at the sash of your coat.

He saved her, chérie, from her downfall.

Because he would have done anything to revive his lover’s soul.

You gripped the sash tighter.

One thing, at least, you had learned for certain.

Yoon Jeonghan was not of your delusions.

He was very, intensely, frighteningly real.

LE FRANCE-SOIR, 4TH OCTOBER, 1954

SUPERSTAR JEONGHAN’S BIRTHDAY BASH PLANNED IN BIG-TIME LOCATION! ALLEGED NAMES TO BE INVITED…

We wish the happiest birthdays to the world’s sweetheart, Yoon Jeonghan! As our dear star celebrates his happy day in a world of press tours and back-to-back interviews, we have a source which tells us that he will be occupied tonight by his co-stars, who plan to throw him a party that Paris talks about for the rest of the month! Unfortunately, dear readers, the event is kept very hushed, but fear not—we will bring details for all you curious fans!

Do be satisfied with exclusive photos of the actor strolling along the Seine banks at 2 o’ clock in the morning! We wonder where he was coming back from…

PERHAPS RUNNING AWAY FROM THE GREATEST LIVING ACTOR WAS NOT THE SMARTEST DECISION YOU HAD EVER MADE. 

It was not as if you had any other options. His words had struck beyond your skin— caught onto the webs of your soul, and refused to escape, no matter how ardently you tried to wrench them out with your self-reassurances. 

He should not have said anything akin to what he confessed that night, four days ago. You knew he was merely narrating a fairytale, but the look in his eyes as he recited the love story haunted you every night since.

You did not understand whether the unease, settling too comfortably in your veins, was a feeling you would rather live without, or a sensation you had come to enjoy as you pondered over his words. You did not leave your hotel room, mess of clothes and room service food piling up with every passing day. 

Even catching the headline for Jeonghan’s imminent birthday celebrations had you delving deeper into the mind abyss, more so when that day arrived.

Your eyes wandered to the telephone, perched upon the small, circular table by the window. 

Perhaps you should call him. 

A harsh laugh escaped you.

Very funny.

Not that you could call him—his apartment phone number was lost on your ears. 

Nevermind. That possibly idiotic option died before it could be seriously considered. 

A continuous, sharp rapping on your hotel door had you rising briskly from your speculations. 

“Seungkwan,” you muttered. 

Walking over your mess, you reached out to the knob, opening the intricate door.

“It’s a wonder I’m not greeted by your corpse every time I come here.”

“Good morning to you too, asshole,” you chirped back, striding back into your room, waiting for your dear agent to close the door. “And just for a heads-up, I am not auditioning for anything today.”

“See, I knew you would say something like this, so I did not even bother.” He sighed out the world’s air from his lungs, as if shouldering a burden greater than any human has experienced. “I have officially, legally given up on you.”

“Oh really?” you hissed, settling yourself on a chair by the telephone table. “Then why bring your oh so valuable self to my door today, when you have officially, legally given up on me?”

Fingers dipping into his inner waistcoat pocket, Seungkwan fished out a red envelope, cursive black ink on the front. “I received a very ominous letter at my doorstep.” He strode over to where you sat, taking the opposite chair. “It was meant for you.”

You waved off the letter. “You open it,” you said, leaning back in the seat. “It’s probably another tabloid scare. God knows how they could find my hotel room number.”

“Lazy,” the man muttered before ripping open the fold, taking out a sleek card of the same colour, bordered with intricate, black lining. Interest piquing, you watched him read the contents, brows furrowing by the second.

When his eyes went completely round, you straightened, confused. “What is it?”

But he only ticked his head to the side, rereading the writings etched onto the red paper. Tossing the envelope on the table, he was rooted to this letter, brows scrunched so close together they could have become one.

“You’re scaring me,” you began, hand reaching out to take the letter, only to fail when he distanced himself. “What the hell is on there?”

After a moment, he closed his eyes, grinning. “It’s all fine. I think someone is playing a very sly trick on us.”

“What?” You got out, but he was only chuckling, as if he had been caught acting like a fool. “Now you’re just making me angry!”

“Well, let me help reverse that anger, my dear!” He brought the card out to you. “Do have a read and laugh!”

Completely baffled, you took it from him, reading the words which had brought Seungkwan to such a state.

Your own eyes nearly burst from their sockets. 

Dear _____,

You have been cordially invited to celebrate the birthday of Yoon Jeonghan. The celebration is planned to be grand, with the entire Moulin Rouge booked out to perform cabarets, drink champagne and dance away the night.

As this event is private, we ask to be discreet when you arrive, and only bring one other person with you, as only the best of the best are to attend.

We hope to see you tonight, 8 o’ clock onwards. A car will be waiting outside your hotel to bring you to the destination.

Signed,

YOON JEONGHAN.

“Oh…my God.”

Your agent snorted, straightening his waistcoat. “Is that not hilarious?!” he started, folding a leg over the other. “I must say, the press is becoming much too creative to get us out of private circles! Yoon Jeonghan, huh!” 

You kept staring at the letter, feeling your heart rise to your throat as he carried on rambling his disbelief. “This must be another way to torment you, _____, but don’t you worry! I will get to the bottom of whoever did this.”

He turned his head to you. “So what if he was your ex? Way to rip out an old flame from the past! You both haven’t spoken in years.”

That comment could have made you flinch.

When he caught the dread in your face, he halted. “Why do you look like you’re about to hurl your guts up?”

Your smile was more of a grimace. “Well, um…you see…”

“Oh my God.” He gripped onto the arms of his chair. “What the hell have you done?”

“Why are you assuming I have done something?” you demanded, but it left your mouth much weaker than you anticipated.

“Because I have cleaned enough of your messes,” he responded sharply. “Why are you looking so guilty?”

“Well…erm…” It was like you were a criminal, confessing to a dozen murders. “You know when, um, you said that Jeonghan and I…haven’t spoken in years?”

His eyebrows must have been exhausted from all the furrowing they had done in the past ten minutes. “What are you trying to tell me?”

You averted your gaze, instead choosing to engrain it on your unmade bed. 

“I…may or may not have…seen Jeonghan…five days ago…”

Mustering your bravado, you snuck a peek at your agent. 

His poor eyes were as wide as saucers. 

You shrunk back. “Twice.”

Looking away again, you waited in agonising silence for him to take in the ground-breaking piece of information. This was not another failed audition, nor was this the sheer astonishment to find you half-dead from the drinking. This was something he did not think you were capable of experiencing. 

After a good while, you heard him speak.

“Yoon Jeonghan…” A pause. “The Yoon Jeonghan…the biggest actor in Hollywood…”

“…yes?”

Seungkwan spewed out curses so colourful they could have painted the entire hotel. 

Even you had to clamp down on your lips to stop yourself from gasping. When he was done, he dipped his whole body down, putting his head in his hands. Only then, you let yourself observe his possible mental breakdown, hugging your legs to your chest. 

It must have been a good twenty minutes, sitting, watching his dejected position, when he heaved himself up, rubbing his face. Sighing, he finally turned to you, exasperation staining his features. 

“How much have you had to drink in the past week?”

You ticked your head back. “What?” 

“You’ve done this before, _____,” he continued, getting up from his seat. “Delusion! I heard you say such crazy things when you hit the papers then. It’s just the drink getting to you. Fucking Yoon Jeonghan…”

“No, Seungkwan, you have to believe me.” You got up from your own chair. “I met him the day I was passed out, when I was rejected from that side-lead role.” 

“Where would you even meet him?”

You looked to the window, to the city beyond. “The Louvre…?”

It was not as if you were lying—the way you said it, though, had the agent doubting you even more. “You? The Louvre? Now I really don’t believe you.”

“Please!” you insisted, watching him pace about in your room. “I may have said some questionable things before, but I’m telling the truth this time!”

He did not answer you, only sparing you withering glimpses with every turn. At some point, he groaned as he halted in the middle.

“I just cannot understand…” Hanging his head low, he propped his hands to his hips. “I cannot get my head around…”

“What?” you asked, desperation clear in your voice. “What else is there to understand?”

When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were narrowed—accusatory.

“Why was Jeonghan wanting to meet you?”

You paused.

Seungkwan fully faced you, then, cocking his head. “After everything that had happened…” 

His voice involuntarily quietened. “After what you did…”

But you raised your hand, all fingers curling save for your pointer. “Don’t,” you muttered. “I don’t need your speech. Not today.”

Second hand raising, they held onto the man’s shoulders, gripping tight. “Look, I know this is crazy…I-I truly get it…but you have to believe me. 

“I need you to believe in me.”

He inspected your agony, the nails that started to dig into his clothes. Gritting his teeth, he should know better than to go along with your follies, and nurse you out of your despair when it causes ruination every time. He had to recognise your self-destructive tendencies, especially since he was always at the scene of your crimes. 

In that moment, though, with the amount of hope you held in your eyes…

He had a feeling that this time, he could not let you down.

So, with a harsh sigh through his nose, he held your arms, pushing them off. “Fine,” he got out, scowling at how easily you were elated. “But!”

You were already whirling around, running to your wardrobe. “Oh, thank you, Seungkwan, thank you, thank you! God, I must begin preparations at once!”

“_____! I have a condition!”

But you paid him no mind, searching through your more luxurious outfits—the ones that managed the cut when you rush-packed for this spontaneous journey. “Go on, Seungkwan. Throw me something truly horrendous!”

There was a moment’s quiet before he spoke.

“If this night turns out to be a sham, then we are leaving Paris.”

That certainly dampened your spirits.

You turned around. “That truly is horrendous.”

The agent did not smile. “I mean it. You have my interest for now, _____, but if this is another one of your drunken plans then I cannot humour them anymore.”

Had you not beseeched for his faith mere minutes ago, you would have started arguing with him. At least this once, you had to let him keep the condition.

Even if it meant leaving your sanctuary—and the certain people that resided within it.

DESPITE SEUNGKWAN’S SUSPICIONS, THE RIDE TO MOULIN ROUGE ARRIVED AT THE VERY MINUTE IT WAS PROMISED.

You ushered him to introduce yourself to the chauffeur, watching out of your window as he made his way to the entrance, introducing himself in his usual charismatic charm. You could only hear certain words—courtesy of your hotel room being five floors high—but when you saw your agent looking at you down below, signalling your presence, you knew it was time.

Leaving the windowsill, you inspected yourself in the floor-length mirror in your room, checking the final details. Fortunately for you, you had kept your winter Dior gown from several years ago, worn once at a private party back in LA. Although a little out of fashion for this night, it was still as gorgeous as the first time you had worn it; it was a creation of black silk and velvet, sleeveless bodice tightly fitted as the heavy skirt flowed down. The showstopper detail were the two, huge swoops of midnight velvet, creating an appearance of a huge bow, fitted at the edges of your bodice’s hem. You added to the dress by wearing white gloves, reaching till your elbow, and adorning black diamonds, settled around your neck. The matching earrings glimmered in the hotel lights, accentuating your makeup.

For someone who had lost her stylists, artists, designers and the like, you had truly outdone yourself.

You allowed yourself a deep, hard breath.

You were ready.

Once you fished out a fur scarf, you wrapped it around yourself, making sure your face remained at least half-hidden. Deep down, if the journalists caught you travelling to Moulin Rouge, you knew you would not hate it too much.

So what if you were creating anarchy in the Parisian parties? At least you would look exquisite doing so.

Exiting the hotel room, you locked the door shut, making your way down to the entrance. Once you felt the Parisian air you lifted your scarf, making sure no one recognised you as Seungkwan ushered you, his mask covering his nose and mouth.

The closer you hastened to your car, the more you could observe its sheer opulence. Jeonghan certainly paid no mind to expenses, providing a Porsche Limousine for his guests. Once you entered inside the car there was champagne in the foot of the huge seats, and you could have sworn Seungkwan could have kicked his feet in mid-air over the sight.

“Perhaps I should let you carry on with your delusions!” 

“Enough!”

The ride to Moulin Rouge was not far in the slightest, but it felt like forever. You wished it had lasted forever, because the nearer you rode to your destination, the more tangible the idea became that the tabloids had discovered the location for Jeonghan’s private party. Yes, you distinctly remembered, not even an hour ago, that you did not care for the piranha-like press, but now you were out of the comforts of your hotel, and into the great, wide world. 

“_____, snap out of it.”

You winced at your agent’s order, sucking your teeth. He fixed his bow-tie, continuing, “Now that you’ve proved me wrong, you cannot shy away from tonight. If that poor man invited you, then you owe it to him to go.”

Nodding absent-mindedly, you locked your hands upon your lap. Seungkwan was right—Jeonghan had the decency to extend the olive branch, even when you had hastened your departure the last time you had encountered him. Admittedly, he was reciting riddles you had quickly deciphered, but you were too much of a coward to insist what his true intentions were behind his whimsical speech. Your history with him was overwhelming enough; you did not need it to further entangle your present with him.

Still. You could not help feeling a little thrilled at seeing his invitation. You meant what you said to him that night.

You were incredibly pleased to see him—even if you had not expressed it properly to him.

The chauffeur slowed the vehicle at the front of the destination, the signature red lights of the mill flashing excitedly in the black night, wrapped all around the dome. The white lights of MUSIC HALL, plastered at the front of the establishment, flickered as your ride finally stopped. Quickly checking your surroundings, you breathed out in relief, not realising you were holding it in.

There seemed to be no flashing cameras nearby.

Seungkwan opened his door, which was next to the entrance. “Right,” he commenced, one leg out of the car. “Let us go!”

Once he was fully out, he brought out his hand for you. Taking it, you carefully manoeuvred your dress, taking great pains not to crease its silk panels as you heaved out of the car, making certain your face still hid from the rush of guests. When your dress had left the vehicle, your companion shut the door, ushering instructions for the chauffeur to drive wherever the rest of Jeonghan’s employees were stationed.

Offering his arm, you accepted gratefully, turning to look at him, face covered save for his determined eyes.

He tilted his head to the entrance—all he needed was your approval.

You nodded.

With your heart in your throat, you both stepped inside the Moulin Rouge, the first great event you had attended since the night of your downfall.

It was utter chaos.

Although you had been to the Moulin Rouge in the past, you had missed its grand reopening three years prior, when one of the Hollywood actors had renovated the establishments and extended its services to the elite population. You took in the grand, theatre-like atmosphere, engulfed with reds of all shades and textures, the colour of blood and rubies and danger flooding your senses. Dozens of tables, overflowing to the brim with food and drink, were occupied by some of the greatest actors of your time, filling the halls with merry conversation. Chandeliers, dangling off the high ceilings of the theatre, shined the place with sparkly light, reflecting off the diamonds in your necklace, and the thousand other jewels everyone adorned.

The real stars of this show, however, were the ladies in the centre of the stage—the cabaret dancers, their vibrant, peacock-like appearance shocking and wowing their high-class crowd. With their feather headpieces as big as their bodies, they twirled about in their frilly skirts, exposing their stockinged legs, causing either furious blushing or drunken hooting. Most sang in slurred French, while others flirted with their audience, their silent conversations returned with glee.

The entire place was chaos only the rich would indulge in.

This was the chaos you had missed out on, for all these months. 

“What the…” Seungkwan breathed out, unable to finish his shocked cursing. You shared in his sentiments, though, when you could not believe what your vision exposed to you. 

Even so, with everything that raged around you, your eyes scoured for the one man you entered this jungle of fame for. 

It was so strange—so incredibly extraordinary—that when you did find him, in the thick of the jungle, men and women like vines, entangling his figure, he was not focused on his admirers.

No, he did not care for the people around him, because his dark eyes found yours, long before you had found his.

You parted your mouth, the noise of the cabaret tuned out.

There he stood, a dark angel among the demons of Paris, waiting for you in the modern underworld. His usual soft curls had been straightened, along with his fringes, curtaining his face on the sides. Forever the fashion-revolutionary, he had worn a simple white vest underneath his sleek, black blazer, boots tapping softly against the beat of the music. Even with the distance separating the two of you, he had somehow robbed the very oxygen from your throat. 

Then he smiled at you, making a move forward, and all you could do was stay still. 

You could only watch as he muttered soft excuses to his guests, rooted to you as he crept closer. Your agent raised a brow at your changed demeanour, trying to follow your line of sight, but he did not catch the man who was charged with shocking you quiet.

He was about to ask what had gotten into you when the culprit emerged from the crowds.

Seungkwan’s mouth dropped to the floor.

“What the fuck?”

It seemed only Yoon Jeonghan could have finished his curses.

The film noir star eased up the carpeted steps, stopping before the two of you.

“Good evening to you, too, dear Seungkwan,” he said, voice like a balm among the boom of the Rouge.  

But then he slid those haunting eyes to you—all over you, darting on the details of your dress—and you could have melted to the floor. 

You knew instantly that he recognised the outfit.

“I see you have not left everything in LA.”

You shook your head, the corners of your mouth curling upwards. “No, I…I did bring some cherished items with me.”

A soft noise, like the beginnings of a laugh, escaped his nose. “Very good to know.” He peeked at the signature Dior bow. “I have a feeling that you are aware of this, but you look exquisite.”

Your stomach tightened at his words. “You don’t look so awful yourself.”

Now he let himself laugh properly, head tilting to his side. “I would have ridiculed your vanity, chérie, had you not deserved to possess it.”

That had your cheeks burning. His gaze became harder to uphold. “Thank you for your invitation,” you then said, suddenly eager to pass the embarrassment to another poor victim. “Seungkwan here thought it a fraud at first.”

The said-man gasped, glaring daggers at you. Jeonghan raised his brows, casting his dancing eyes to him. “Did you, now?”

“It was nothing like that!” he immediately rebuked, but then he huffed out, realising that was not fully honest. “Well, I mean…you must understand, we haven’t spoken to you in so long, so it didn’t seem real…”

It was your turn to glare at your friend spewing rubbish, but the actor offered a sheepish expression. “You speak the truth, I’m afraid. It had been much too long.”

He watched you, guilt morphing in his smile. “Let’s not be strangers anymore.”

Catching your lower lip with your teeth, you wondered how to respond to him—to these simple words, and the true complexities underneath. Thankfully, you did not have to, when he turned to the crowds, gesturing to the empty table in the centre. “Come,” he said, offering his arm to you. “Let’s settle at my table. We have a good view of the dancers.”

You looked at Seungkwan before accepting, looping your hand upon Jeonghan’s arm. “Your friends…who did you invite?”

“I actually didn’t plan this.” He pointed to the man beside the stage, talking to the staff as he observed the cabaret dancers. “Joshua threw this party in my honour. He owns the Moulin Rouge today.”

You remembered the news—your once co-star turned businessman, buying this dying establishment in efforts to revive the cabaret spirit. It seemed to be working, though, because your agent recalled that Joshua Hong was more successful as an entertainer than an actor. To you, that news was horrendous, because the man was already so successful as a film star.

The piece of information that stung, however, was that this was not your ex’s doing—perhaps you were another name on a long list to throw an invite to, lest they complain.

He patted your hand with his free one. “Your invitation, however, was of my own accord.”

You did not know why that made you smug. “I couldn’t imagine anyone else inviting a ruined actress to their birthday party.”

He matched your mirth. “And an ex at that? I have out-shocked myself this time.”

Chuckling, you swiped at your black dress, bow swaying. “I’m ready.”

“Let us go then.”

Descending the steps, the film noir star led you to the centre of the theatre, the celebrities surrounding the three of you quieting their conversations. Your nerves instantly sparked to life, bubbling within your body, and you tightened your hold on Jeonghan’s arm as he walked through the crowd, unfazed by the shift in atmosphere. Thank the Lord that the music was still deafening, cabaret girls still dancing. 

Seungkwan, plastering professional smiles to anyone he caught sight of, leaned closer as he strode beside you. “I guess you weren’t lying after all.”

Eyes darting to each and every stunned expression, you whispered back, “I haven’t gone insane yet. These people might drive me to it though…”

The empty table came into view, a huge circle clothed in white, possibly every single bottle of alcohol in Paris settled atop its surface. Fine-dined food was served before every chair, the luxurious scent teasing your nose, almost distracting you from the scrutiny of everyone in the hall. 

By this time, the owner of Moulin Rouge had returned to this important table, ordering the waiters as he pulled out a chair, ready to sit. He then saw the three people who had arrived in front of him, and his eyes widened, instantly straightening himself. 

“Oh, wow!” he exclaimed, hands gesturing to the two new guests. “I never thought I’d see the day!”

“Joshua,” Jeonghan began, looking at you and your agent, “I see my friends need no introduction.”

“Why, of course not!” The strapping young man walked around the table, providing you with a full view of his black tuxedo, matching bow-tie stark against his white shirt. His hair had been sleekly gelled back, but a stray lock curled over his forehead, accentuating his already lush appearance. Reaching over to you, he kissed both of your cheeks—very Parisian of him, you noted—and pulled away, smiling. “My goodness, I can’t believe you’re here in front of me!”

Chuckling a little, you tried, “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” he countered. “No one has seen you since you left, you know. I was half-worried the press would report your sudden death!”

“Not if I have anything to do with that,” Seungkwan immediately said, crossing his arms. “I have spent too much time and energy on _____ to see her dead in our hotel room.”

Glaring at your agent, you faced the businessman. “As you can see, I am alive and well. Or at least alive and better.”

He picked up a flute of champagne from his seat. “I must admit,” he confessed, “I did not think you would show up.”

You tried not to avert his gaze. “I did not want to miss Jeonghan’s birthday,” you replied, and you swore you could feel the said-man’s lips tug upwards.

A knowing smile caught onto the businessman’s lips. “I see,” he murmured, sipping his drink. “That is good to hear, because Jeonghan was expecting you tonight.”

This time, you whirled to the accused. Had you not been quick, you would have missed the second-long glare he sent his friend before morphing into an impassive daze. But then he caught your slight surprise, and knew you had seen it. His explanation was as swift as his glower. “I knew you would not miss a night of drinking and dancing.”

“I mean…I have missed plenty since the scandal.”

“But you being here is a sign of progress!” Joshua chimed in. “You attending this party is another way of getting back into the industry, and I wish to help every step of the way.” He slapped his hands together. “Your first task should be enjoying this night as much as you can.”

He then turned to the two men. “Isn’t that right, gentlemen?”

Seungkwan scoffed, mumbling something akin to how you would rather be scandalised again than have some good fun. Jeonghan, on the other hand, was watching you, picking up his flute of wine. 

Raising his glass, he declared, “To betterment.”

Joshua followed suit, even louder. “To betterment!” He saw yours and Seungkwan’s empty hands as he drank his champagne, letting out a dissatisfied noise. “Oh, do excuse me!” Snapping his fingers, two waiters ushered to each of you, offering flutes of champagne. 

You took from one the tray, raising it slightly. “To betterment,” you muttered, drinking. 

“Now, you must excuse me for the second time,” Joshua began, a hand on your bare shoulder. “I have a few more guests to entertain.” Grabbing onto the chair that you had planned to sit upon, he pulled it out, gesturing for you to carry out your intentions. “In the meantime, do settle down! I will be back very soon.”

Obliging the owner, you gingerly settled yourself onto the ornate seating, careful not to ruin your gown in the process. You held a hand over your diamond necklace, positioning the largest in the middle once more before setting your flute upon the table. As you sat, so did the others, Jeonghan on your left, Seungkwan on your right. 

The three of you watched the anarchy of the cabaret dancers, raising their legs to their sky, earning shocked, drunken laughter as their underskirts were revealed, contrasted by the bright colours of their stockings. Their large feathers shimmied along to their movements, drooping over their shoulders. 

Your agent blinked back at their provocative dancing, downing another flute of alcohol. “Why didn’t anybody show me this whenever we were in Paris?”

You clicked your tongue. “Because you don’t like Paris. I always have to drag you out here.”

Seungkwan began to groan, furrowing his brows. “Because this city is a bore!” He pointed at you with his glass. “Seeing the Mona Lisa and the Eiffel Tower is only interesting the first three times. Then, they become what they truly are…a metal building and some average-looking woman who ought to smile more.”

Your scoff had a few people from neighbouring tables turning their heads. “That entire comparison is enough for me to fire you.”

“Oh, please!” He raised himself in his seat a little to catch a look at the actor beside you, silent in his seat as he observed the cabaret. “I know Jeonghan here will agree with me!”

The said-man slid his eyes to the tipsy agent. “Think again, Seungkwan,” you rebuked. “Jeonghan loves Paris more than I do. And that is saying something.”

The younger man looked to the elder in pleading, ready to forgo his career to prove you wrong. The film star could not help chuckling.

Usually, he would have played along, if only to tease you—but the subject of discussion was much too serious for him.

“I cannot help you today, dear Seungkwan,” he said, a nostalgic smile staining his lips as he swirled his wine. “Paris is like a home to me.”

“Hmph.” Another flute finished, smacking it upon the table. “You both are beginning to irritate me!” He inspected the room, finding acquaintances to mingle with. “Now, I am going to go and dance with a few friends,” he declared, standing from his chair. 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Friends? Since when did you have friends here?”

“Unlike you, dear _____, I choose not to rot in my misery,” your agent chirped, sarcasm amplified from the drink, “I instead interact with other human beings. Works like a charm!”

“Have fun,” you called to him, as if you were not praying he tripped and broke a leg. Unfortunately, he would not be useful to you as a cripple, and so instead hoped he was lying about having friends in this city.

Once he disappeared into a crowd of actors, you sighed—you would have slumped your shoulders had it not been a risk to your dress.

“What’s the sigh for?”

You watched your only companion entertain his alleged friends. “I was hoping Seungkwan only knew me in this event.” A bitter scoff. “I suppose I should mingle too…make more of these friends.”

“You cannot blame an agent for having connections,” Jeonghan said, taking a sip of his wine. 

“I’m not blaming him,” you lied, exasperated with his pragmatism. You knew you were being unreasonable—he did not have to state it out loud. “I just…I don’t know anyone here.”

He caught onto your first dishonesty, but did not deign to comment on it. 

Instead, he voiced out a thought that lingered upon him. “You know me.”

You turned to him. “Yes…I suppose so.”

“Is that not enough?”

You turned over his question. As you observed him finishing his wine, catching the alcohol on his lips with his tongue, you wanted to tell him no.

No, because whatever joy you had received in his attentions, did it replace the heights of attention you gained from millions? He may have been Yoon Jeonghan, but even a single star reached the skies through the help of a mass of rays, retiring along with the sun.

Was a once beloved man’s affections greater than the affections of the world?

It took everything in your power not to answer him, but to your greatest fortunes, you were saved from breaking the man’s heart. Just that second, Joshua sauntered through the crowds, bringing another bottle of extremely expensive wine, setting it upon the empty space before you. 

“What are you two sitting around for?” He pointed to his dear friend, then waved at the chaos around them both. “I didn’t arrange the most glamorous birthday party in Paris for the birthday boy to not partake in it!”

“Ah, Shua…I will drink first,” the actor reassured him, accepting the businessman’s refills of his glass. “I want you to dance!”

“Fine!” Joshua’s eyes darted to you, and he held his hand out. “But only if _____ here will dance with me.”

You laughed awkwardly, waving off his advances. “No, please, I’ve only just arrived!” You tipped your head towards the many more renowned actresses, without any partners. “Go indulge your other co-stars. I will enjoy the cabaret show you and you alone have arranged.”

Grinning at your intelligent evasion, he consented, “I will oblige you this once, but only because you have appreciated my entertainment!” He pointed at the two of you, finger darting with each second. “Don’t think you both have rid of me!”

“Of course not!” you exclaimed back as he left your side, acutely aware that you would cause scandal once more if it meant you did not have to frolic in the crowds tonight. The drink was already messing with your mind, and you had to pause, lest you lost yourself to the smooth jazz of the theatre. 

Soon, with the young night beginning to age, almost everyone shot up from their seats, dancing along to the rhythm of the dancers. Every actor, designer, stylist and people from the industry partnered with each other, whirling to the boisterous music that filled the Moulin Rouge. 

The atmosphere almost made you forget about everything that plagued your spirits, clapping your hands to the beat of the music. Your agent had found himself in the arms of dozens of women, drinking and dabbling in the celebrity gossip. You even found yourself making light-hearted conversation with old acquaintances within neighbouring tables, though you admit you had to thank Jeonghan’s presence for such attraction towards you. Before, the lack of attention upon you would have stung greatly, but the man beside you had a strange talent of making one feel incredibly special in any place, at any hour. 

You feared the questions that were sure to come, especially when you had shown yourself in the film scene for the first time in a while, but the people surrounding you only expressed their contentment in your arrival. It was so strange, when it was people, once of your own station, simply asking about your wellbeing, rather than reporters and cameras, mics rammed down your throat to record your latest scandal. 

Aside from the inquiries, there were also offers to join in the merry waltzing. Many a time the owner of this theatre endeavoured to have you join the others, but you waved off his hands, daring him instead to dance with the cabaret girls. 

“You do Joshua a disservice,” Jeonghan chided light-heartedly, melodic voice louder to avoid being drowned out from the saxophones. “Refusing his hand for the fourth time.”

“I haven’t danced in a while!” you exclaimed over the noise. “I refuse to embarrass myself in front of hundreds.”

“Well, you must,” he insisted, slowly raising from his chair. “Because I wish to dance and you will join me.”

Your chortling was sudden. “Do keep dreaming, Jeonghan!” You waved your finger to the dozens of actresses, eyeing up the birthday boy. “Go offer your hand to a woman who will actually accept.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, a smirk ghosting his lips. “You refuse to indulge the wishes of a man on his birthday?” 

Scoffing, you downed your drink. “I am certain you will find many more to indulge your wishes beside me.”

You averted his gaze, watching your drunk agent dancing rather spectacularly with Jeonghan’s current co-star. You had to hand it to him—Seungkwan climbed up the social ladder quicker than you expected. 

“All right…”

Jeonghan sat back in his seat. Picking up a teaspoon from the table, he clinked it against his glass, catching the attention of the tables around you.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he declared. “Due to _____’s refusal, I will not be dancing with anyone this evening!”

Your eyes widened. 

Everyone within your radius turned their heads to your table. 

That was when the shouting began.

“What the—!”

“_____, don’t be a stick-in-the-mud!”

“Jeonghan, dance with us instead!”

The agitated exclamations, alternative offers chimed all around you two. Joshua, upon hearing this, squeezed past the growing crowd, hands on his hips at his old friend’s declaration.

“This will simply not do!” He then focused on you, gesturing to the seated man. “_____, you must dance with him.”

This was supported by a few cheers, urging you to accept. Seungkwan, who, too, heard the commotion, paused his dancing, the beautiful co-star right beside him. When he caught onto what everyone was complaining for, he snorted, shaking his head. “Save your voices, dear friends!” he yelled out. “_____ here would rather drop dead than listen to good sense!”

You would have shouted at him, but you could only gape at the man who caused the chaos.

“Come on, it’s just a dance!”

“It will only last a minute!”

“It’s his birthday, for God’s sake!”

His smirk, ghost-like before, sparked to life. 

Son of a bitch. 

“Fine!” you suddenly screeched, brows twisting in irritation. “I’ll dance, damn it!”

Your irritation grew when cheers rang around the theatre, which in turn had the music changing. The instruments jingled out even more livelier melodies, indicating that the birthday-boy was entering the space. Smoothly the actor left his seat, watching you reflect his action, albeit with more frustration. 

When you raised your head, your gaze fell on the outstretched hand.

With a melodramatic sigh, you took it.

Fingers wrapping around your hand, he led you to the emptier spaces, void of the tables as the crowds dispersed, resuming their swinging and waltzing. Once you both found a place, you looked at him, not pleased at all.

“Happy?” you jeered.

But then his hand slithered around your bare back, tugging you closer. With a hitched breath you were pulled in, your free hand instinctively grabbing his shoulder.

His eyes had you blinking back. 

“Exceptionally.”

You could only stare at him as he began to move.

The steps were short, snappy, matching the tune of the jazz which welcomed everyone’s ears. You dared not speak, too close to him, feeling his very breath fan your skin as he swung your enclasped hands along.

The ends of his hair tickled your hand on his shoulder, and you shifted, stumbling slightly into his hold. “Careful,” he whispered, and you felt your skin prickle at every corner. “Your step is a little shaky.”

“You think?” you asked sharply. When he chuckled, you realised that you did not think the sarcasm, but voiced it. 

You must really stop drinking. 

“You’re tipsy, aren’t you?” he inquired, squinting at you in amazement. “Goodness, you still can’t handle your drink?”

“As if you are not,” you countered, noticing the pauses in his step. “You dance better when you’re sober.”

“At least I dance at all.” He swirled you around, careful not to tarnish your dress. “Instead of shying away in a corner…away from everyone else.”

You gave him an irked glance. “You were with me in that corner, too.”

He returned it softly. “I wasn’t going to leave you alone, was I?”

“Hmm.”

He waited, watching your eyes stray to the dancers behind him, when he added a little amusement to his tone. “Plus, when you wear a dress like this…it should be a sin to hide yourself.”

A temporary look. “I thought you would forget.”

Scoffing, he mocked heartbreak as he pressed the enclasped hands to his chest. “You wounded me dearly with that, _____.” 

Turning you about, the music tuned louder as he closed his eyes. “It was 1949…spring time. Ah, yes, It was the after party of my first premier, and my co-stars and I were all dancing, just as we are now…”

His fingers held onto yours tighter. “And then you entered, wearing this…” 

He opened his eyes, gazing down at the details of your gown. “I swear to you, I forgot I had a movie coming out that night when I saw you in this dress.”

If he did not cease his words, then your face would have set alight. “All right, all right!” you exclaimed, tapping his shoulder. “You have proved yourself!” 

“Good. Don’t try and doubt me again.”

When you did not say anything, his lower lip jutted out ever so slightly. “Why did you wear it?” He slowed his movements. “You never wear something without making a statement.”

“It…” You tried to find the words. “It seemed fitting for tonight,” you said, forgetting your footsteps, the rhythm becoming second nature. 

A smile haunted your lips for a mere second. “Because I have not forgotten either.”

Jeonghan’s smile lingered on for you. 

The two of you did not speak much afterwards, basking in each other’s presences as the music progressed on. The cabaret dancers were growing wilder as midnight struck, enough time to become rowdy, furthering the chaos their movements had elicited. What was once whispered conversations, hesitant footsteps had familiarised into old friends as you two swirled and swirled, taking no heed of the people that stopped and stared at the centre. 

The actor’s hushed chuckles had become boisterous laughter in your arms, drumming his fingers against your back. You relished in each touch, heightened by the alcohol thrumming in your veins, yourself swaying your head to the beat. 

You were beginning to fly. 

After an eternity of being imprisoned, a certain someone had opened the locks to your cage, setting you free. You had grown wings of joy, of restlessness, and now you were flying in his hold, floating in the atmosphere of his eyes. Your heart was so light, drifting like the bubbles in your champagne glass, slipping past its rim, almost staining your dress and his suit multiple times. 

You tried to offer compensation for your carelessness, but he refused it outright, lips brushing against your ear. “Stain a thousand suits if it means you will come back…” his words were slow, stained with alcoholic truths. “If you’ll truly come back.”

Your laugh tickled his neck. “No one will have me,” you whispered, ironically sanguine for a fact so bleak. 

His pull had your shoulder touching his, all space near snuffed out. 

His plea had your hand in his turning limp. 

“Don’t say that, chérie…because it’s not true.”

Instinct had you retracting a little, staring at him. The ache in his eyes could have broken your heart. 

It must not have been that long, but it felt like forever and more, looking at him as if he had uttered a revolutionary speech, shared a secret of the universe. Time seemed to have slowed around you—perhaps an effect of the champagne, but you chose to be fantastical—the saxophones muted, the people quietened, and the lights dimmed.

This was a shot—a scene from the past, and at any moment there would be a director shouting action! in the corner, and it would all begin.

The fantasy would live on. Your downfall would become a non-existent event, and everything would be okay again.

It was in that exact, fated moment, when you heard a distant noise which stopped your vision.

A noise which was not of your dreams, but of your nightmares.

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

Jeonghan saw your eyes freeze over, body stilling under his hold. Frightened whispering spread at the back of the crowds, where the entrance was situated.

A distant actor’s exclamation had the rest scrambling.

“Who let the fucking press in here?!”

In an instant Joshua had made his way to the front, confusion and frustration mixing in his features. “What is going on?!” he demanded, the unforgettable camera flashing on the first layer of guests. “How the hell did they manage to sneak in here?!”

As the owner squeezed his way past, the rest of the guests groaned in agitation, even the cabaret dancers slowing down their enchanting routine. You did notice a damn thing, though, because the click! click! click! was ringing in your mind like the echoes of a gong, your entire body was constricting, your hand was tightening upon your partner’s, your breathing was going ragged—

“_____.”

The reporters were here. 

The media had found themselves a jackpot with Jeonghan’s private party, but the moment they caught you, it would be over. There would be nothing left as they will take your pictures, confirm your attendance in circles, drunk-dancing with your ex-boyfriend at his party, standing too close for comfort, and it would all be fucking over. 

“_____.”

This was something out of your nightmares. 

You could not move, refusing to listen to the voices beside you, unable to hear the commotion that had sprung up at the unexpected intrusion. Your vision had dazed out, mouth parted, tongue dry, and you could do nothing as your legs threatened to buckle. 

Only the voice of one man brought you out of your stupor.

“_____.”

A jolt coursed through you. 

“Come with me.”

He tugged on your enclasped hands, made to move in an opposite direction, but your body was still rooted, still amongst the crowds that went towards the flashing cameras. 

“I…” you could barely bring your voice to the surface—cowering down your throat, refusing to rise. “I-I…they’ll get me…”

“_____.”

His fingers tightened within yours. 

“Do you trust me?”

Again, the fated question.

How could you have answered him, when your tongue had abandoned its practice? How could you provide him with a response when your world was collapsing around you, the clicking of the cameras, the shouting of the reporters taking over your very senses?

But then his hands were upon your face, urging you to look at him. The intensity of his eyes could have brought you to your feet.

“Do you trust me, chérie?”

You parted your mouth.

Perhaps in another lifetime, you would have died underneath his fingertips. The press would have procured pictures of Jeonghan gaping at your decorated corpse, and his birthday would be remembered in the pages of celebrity gossip for the rest of his days.

But Jeonghan did not offer disaster—he did not show you further downfall in his path. What the man before you offered was an opportunity.

A chance to escape your doom.

You would have been the greatest fool in the world not to accept.

Especially when he looked so damned desperate to give it to you.

Your nod was barely a dip of your head.

“Help me, Jeonghan.”

That was all the man needed.

Letting go of you, he instead grabbed onto your hand, enveloping his slender fingers with yours. Looking over to the exits beside the stages, chaos heightening, he knew exactly where to go.

With one determined tug, he snapped you out of your spell.

His hand was your anchor as he led you against the current of actors, singers, all his celebrity friends. Slipping through with the slight-empty gaps, the two of you weaved your way to the furthest doors, the actor snapping it open with his free hand. Quickly he ushered you through thin hallways, a plethora of costumes, make-up kits, accessories spilling on the floor, hooked to the walls, but they were paid little mind. Once you both reached the final door, he resorted to kicking it open with his foot. No one was outside at the back of the huge establishment, only the Parisian sky, lighting the way to wherever your saviour was taking you.

Mumbling under his breath, he suddenly let an ah! escape as you saw his familiar sleek Bentley, camouflaged from the night. Perhaps the driver had seen you both hurrying to the car, because as Jeonghan clutched the door handle, it swiftly opened. You were lucky your gown was unharmed with the way you were ushered inside, gathering your velvet skirts to allow him space to settle beside you.

Clapping his hand against the driver’s seat, he voiced out orders in rapid, breathless French, you too overwhelmed to try and translate. Your heart was beating much too quickly, pounding in your ears from the swift exit. You had to wait a long time to settle, silent as the car revved to life, speeding out of the back entrance of the Moulin Rouge, away from the chaos. 

The roads were largely empty, thanks to the night’s growing age, the better population gone to sleep and forget the events of a rather uneventful evening.

For you, though, there would be no sleep.

For you were wide awake, looking out of the window, rooted in your position as you tried to calm your nerves. The shock had made you sober for those minutes of panic in the establishment, but as the ride kept driving to an unknown destination, you began to calm down, breathing deeply with every turn of the vehicle.

Perhaps it helped much that there was no conversation in the car, no questions about whether you were all right, whether you needed anything. 

The sole help you needed—which you received—was his hand, still entwined with your gloved one. 

You wondered whether his fingers were still warm, like how they were, ghosting along your back. 

You dared not glance at him, in case your question would show on your face. 

The roads began to look more familiar, you recognising where he was taking you. The statue of the general towered over your vision once more, and the car slowed to a stop.

Without the sounds of the engine, the silence had become much louder. 

The actor decided to break it first.

“We’re here.”

Right.

You nodded, albeit absent-mindedly.

He turned his head to the hotel, opposite his side, and opened the door.

Your hand and his were still intertwined. 

With a soft tug, he brought you out of the car, taking great care of your dress as it fell out in swaying folds from the seat. Snapping the door shut behind you, he bid his chauffeur to wait.

Taking a second-long glimpse at the Ritz, he then caught your unsettled gaze. “I will go back to the party…apologise to Shua for my hasty exit, and let Seungkwan know that you’re safe.”

He made to turn.

Your hand refused to let him go.

Feeling the tug of your fingers stopping his return, he faced you again, an inquisitive look upon his features.

You slipped out a request.

“Stay.”

Jeonghan’s eyes widened.

Swallowing hard, you looked down at your hands, continuing because the silence was unbearable. “I know this is a bit sudden…I understand that, but I hate how the night turned out and…I don’t know, I…” 

Your free hand gestured towards the hotel. “I have wine in my room. It’s not much, but…” You glanced up at him, trying to muster a little earnestness. “I would hate that your birthday ended with you running away…helping me run away.”

You watched him raise his brows, and you fought the urge to avoid his scrutiny. You could tell he was uncertain, with the way he pressed his lips together, deep in thought. His hair swayed gently in the late night breeze, the sides of his fringe half-covering his vision, and you could only wait as he weighed in the cons of your invitation.

Because now you realised it was a bad idea, and maybe you were still drunk—you had never made a good decision in your life when your mind was disarrayed with alcohol.

But then he answered you, and your decision proved to be perfect.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind some more wine.”

Sober you would not have smiled so quickly at his answer.

Sober Jeonghan just might have—but he, too, was in a state much like yours.

Turning, he updated his chauffeur with new instructions, and this time you listened; the latter was urged to drive back to Moulin Rouge, where he would inform Joshua and Seungkwan of his and your whereabouts. Both of you watched the sleek black Bentley drive away, fading away into the Parisian roads.

The film noir star turned to you. He raised your hand in his. 

“Lead the way, then.”

With your spirits higher than they had been the entire night, you obliged him, walking to the entrance. Pushing the doors open, the both of you tried to avoid showing your faces, but it was fortunate enough that no one was around to catch you both.

The journey to your room was a short one, but you still took your time, making sure your gown did not make you stumble. Your company’s hand was much needed, because you were a little unsteady, gloved hands grabbing onto walls, clutching your doorknob tighter than usual. 

Unlocking the door with your free hand, you pushed it open, entering first. You pulled him inside, and he regarded his surroundings. The mess in your room did not clean itself up in your absence, and you had to toss some clothes closer to your wardrobe with your heel, where they had made a pile next to your bed. “I was in a hurry,” you reasoned, but you could tell he did not believe you in the slightest. 

“Here,” you said, pointing to the chairs beside the window. “Sit over there.”

Obeying you, he crossed the distance, only to be stopped once more by your grasp. This time, he had to object. “Your hand,” he voiced out, tugging on the hold. “You’re going to have to let go of me.”

It was then you noticed truly how long you had been holding onto him. 

Slowly, you unravelled your fingers from him, he settling into one of the chairs. You did not like how empty your hand became, despite the gloves masking any real touches. 

“Missing my touch already?” you heard his feline question, and you realised you had been staring at your hand, flexing and unflexing. 

Cheeks heating, you got out, “Never!” before turning your back on him. Searching for your secret bottles, you reached down next to the bed, underneath the side-table. They were well-hidden in the past, when your agent would scour your surroundings to take them from you. Grabbing one of the four, you read the label, satisfied with the quality. 

Screwing open the cap, you looked around for any fresh glasses. “Let me phone up room service.” Walking over to the dainty, circular table in front of him, you brought the bottle down. “There’s nothing to pour this in.”

“No, don’t fret yourself. We can drink from the bottle.”

“Oh.” You looked down at your dress, suddenly feeling much too formal. “I’ll be with you in a minute, then,” you began, gesturing to the bathroom. “I need to get out of this—”

“_____.”

You paused.

He jerked his head towards the empty chair. “Don’t take that dress off. Not while I’m here.”

Your hands at your sides went limp. All you could say again was, “Oh.”

A raised brow. “What are you ohing for? Did you not wear it for me?” He flicked the bottle cap off the bottle, watching your fluster. “At least let me enjoy the sight till I leave.”

You would have hoped he would not see your unease, reflexively touching the back of your neck. Quickly you settled in your chair, waiting for him to take the first sip. 

When he was done, he stretched his arm, enough for the bottle to reach your fingers. Receiving it, you decided to take a hearty chug. “My goodness,” he commented, ushering you to return the bottle. “Perhaps we should return to the party. At least we won’t run out of wine there.”

You smacked your lips together, sticking slightly from the alcohol. “I feel awful about that, by the way.” You locked your hands together upon your lap. “Making you run away from your own birthday.” 

“Don’t worry yourself,” he assured you, “The moment those journalists crashed the place, I was going to leave.” A second swig of the bottle. “I wager the party’s dispersed by now.”

“The fucking press,” you cursed low, “Ruining a perfectly good evening.”

That had the actor cocking his head. “Perfectly good evening, you say?” he repeated. “The _____, enjoying herself out of her hotel room? Interacting with others, and relishing the attention?”

“That is not true!” you protested, snatching the bottle from him. “It was not as if I made any proper conversation with anyone there.”

“Well that was because you spent all your precious conversation on me.”

“Don’t make me regret leaving this hotel,” you warned, earning a chuckle from him. “Besides…I didn’t want to talk to anyone else.”

This time, you enjoyed the thrum the wine brought to your senses. “You know something funny?” He lifted his brows, urging you to go on. “I didn’t even give you a birthday present.” You brought the bottle upon the table, frowning. “Well, I suppose that is not funny, more rude, but…”

Jeonghan took a longer swig of the wine than usual. He took his lower lip between his teeth, taking in the cherry-coloured residue. “Your company was what I wished for…not your gifts.”

Your breath paused at that comment.

“I…I see.”

He decided to take another turn, gulping down the alcohol. He smacked it down on the table’s surface, groaning through his nose. “Fuck,” he whispered. 

“Jeonghan.”

Sliding the bottle to you once more, he hummed. “Yes?”

You wondered whether you should ask the question that lingered on your tongue. 

Glancing down at your hands, you knitted your brows. “Um…how did you manage…you know…when you were struggling back then?”

An uneasy pause. “In what sense?”

“Well…” Smoothing out the fabric of your gloves, you tried to continue. “I mean, you went through this once, right? You know…during our….”

A harsh hum. “Yes, I remember.” 

A harsher intake of breath, which had you grabbing the wine bottle. His voice entertained your ears as you drank. “I won’t lie to you, it was difficult…not everyone tasted success as quickly as you did.”

Was that meant to sting? Perhaps it was not his intention, but you still felt the bite. “I suppose what helped was that once you’re at rock bottom…there is no other way but up.” He folded his leg over the other, crossing his arms. “The one thing that kept me going was that I knew it would get better…thankfully, it did.”

“But what did you do?” you pressed. “What did you do which changed everything?”

He pretended to ponder, but his answer came to him as instant as the million clicks of the Moulin Rouge cameras.

“I stopped hiding, _____.”

You could not avoid him any longer.

“Not that I ever really went anywhere, but…” He shook his head slowly, as if acknowledging the events of the past. “Yes, I…never left. I stayed, and I fought for a place in the industry. I went to hundreds of auditions, knowing what the papers were saying about me.”

The word slipped out before you could stop.

“Why?”

He held you captive in his stare for a minute, releasing his folded arms. Sensing his next moves, you gave him the bottle. This time was the longest swig before he held it to his chest. 

“Because I deserved it. Because I knew I deserved better than what I was given. Nobody should dictate my fate.”

The grave earnestness of his gaze made you unable to respond. “And nobody should dictate yours either.”

Maybe if you were sound of mind, you would have accepted defeat. Listened to the ends of his declaration, and basked in the late-night silence.

However, something in you had to confess your true feelings.

“I want everything back to normal.”

Your vision blurred slightly. “I just want to act again…I didn’t realise how much I missed it…” You took the bottle, the contents less than half. “You say that I cannot let people dictate my fate. Acting is what I want. But these people are stopping me.”

You gulped down the alcohol, helping little to soothe your nerves. “I want to be in front of the cameras, and become another person entirely. Is that even normal?” A scoff. “I mean, I am an actress, but…recently the urge to be someone I’m not is so tempting.” Another swig. “Maybe if I could just become my character in some long-ago comedy, some flighty heroine out of my previous romance…maybe then I will not be so hated. Maybe then I can live someone else’s destiny.”

Your hands swirled the wine which was left, fingers tightening around the neck. “People don’t fall in love with the actor. They fall in love with the character. People never truly loved me, Jeonghan, they loved what I created for them. Call me sick and twisted, but I want to be loved like that again.”

The man listened, feeling his chest tighten at your confession. He dared not say a word, though, lest you stopped—lest you hid yourself from him.

“I want to be loved again, Jeonghan. So what if it isn’t real? It was real to me.” A ragged sigh escaped your lips. “Alas, these people do not want me anymore…and this is what I have to accept. That is my fate.”

As you made your tongue rest from your rambling, you did not notice Jeonghan furrow his delicate brows, frowning at the words which rested within the room. 

He could not have this be your resolution.

“_____.”

You did not respond, drinking. 

“You can be loved again…if you just accept it.”

Smacking your lips together, you brought the bottle his way. “Hmm.” 

You were tired—the wine had furthered your daze, and you knew if you took in another drop you would lose your senses. That could not happen; not when your ex-lover was seated opposite you, as drunk as you were, looking at you just as he used to all those years ago. That alone was amplifying your nerves. 

His voice was akin to the jazz that played at Moulin Rouge. “You want to know something?”

A lift of your chin. “What?”

Unfolding his leg, he leaned in, spreading his legs apart. “I didn’t love you for who you were on television…all those years back.”

You could not look away from his heavy-lidded eyes. “I fell for who you truly were. None of those roles that you played so well, none of those scripted interviews…nothing of that superficial nonsense. 

“I loved you. Only you.”

You felt the city go silent.

The cars that may have rushed past distantly had been quietened, the music from other rooms ceasing to play. Even the stars paused their twinkling, deathly still as they watched through your window the scene that awaited the two of you.

Your mouth parted.

It was all too much.

Suddenly, it was too much, too quickly—this man, seated before you, drinking wine with you, listening to you ramble as drunkards do. It was all too much. Too good, too beautiful, too precious. 

“Fuck.”

You shot up from your seat, chest rising up and down, needing to breathe in the room’s oxygen before you collapsed. “I must…” you swallowed the lump in your throat. “I must get more wine.”

He watched you stumble to your bedside again, he, too, standing. “Wait—”

“No!” you exclaimed, too instantly as you looked over your shoulder. “Just…wait. Stay where you are.”

You felt him stay put behind you—his eyes never left your back, though, as you continued your shaky way to the side table. Once again you knelt down, taking hold of the second bottle. 

All you had to do now was get up. 

Stand on your two feet, and face the history residing in your ex’s eyes.

I loved you. Only you.

Brows drawing together, you took a deep breath. Trying to calm your nerves.

It did not work in the slightest. 

Especially when your vision was blurring, and when you realised there were tears forming, there was no chance in the world that you could face him.

His voice slipped into your head.

“_____.”

You could not take it.

There was no leash to your tongue anymore. The words that had been bubbling to the surface could have no restraint—not when he said your name with a tenderness that you had been aching for years. 

So, as you slumped to the floor, bottle in hand—your back to the man who you owed too much—you blamed the alcohol in your veins as you exposed yourself.

“I missed you, Jeonghan.”

There.

There it was.

Out in the open, with nothing to undo it.

The actor, on the other hand, would have rather died than have you reverse such a declaration.

I missed you, Jeonghan.

His name on your lips set something alight in him.

He wondered whether he had dreamt up your confession.

You were both so drunk—he had seen you delude yourself, create stories in a booze-inflicted daze, and he would play along, because he could not be the person to shatter your illusion.

But now the roles were reversed. He must be dreaming, conjuring this fantasy.

It was his doubts that fuelled his question.

“What…what did you just say?”

He waited.

Waited for you as you gathered every atom of strength in rising, velvet skirts unfolding as you stood, unopened bottle in your gloved hand.

He waited as you gulped down the last of your bravado, slowly turning to face him—the shock which smacked his beautiful features had you spluttering your words again.

“I-I…I really missed you.” 

Jeonghan still had trouble believing.

Perhaps he finally understood the extent of your alcoholic troubles. Perhaps delirium was a symptom, but his fantasies were being extra cruel to him tonight.

So he took a hesitant step—two, three steps towards you. Each foot closer was hesitant, gentle, as if he was stepping on glass, terrified the world beneath him would shatter. You dared not move, fearful of your senses, as unpredictable as the emotions behind the man’s face.

When his shoes caressed the ends of your gown, he stopped himself. One more step, and he could be a hair’s length from you, 

He cocked his head, chest tightening. “Really?” he got out, quiet as the city beyond you.

You could barely breathe, but you made yourself speak—it was now or never. 

“So much.”

The actor’s curse was low—grating against his teeth.

This time, he allowed his gaze to dart over your features—the glazed, frantic eyes, the taut brows, anticipating his response. He wandered down to your lips, and could not help settling there for a moment. If he stepped a little closer he could taste the wine-stained confessions that settled on your mouth. The very thought had his insides singing. 

His heavy stare had your stomach surging. “Jeonghan,” you whispered. 

His hands flexed and unflexed, aching to reach out—more so when you said his name.

“I really want to kiss you, chérie.”

Your brows twitched upward. Instinctively, your eyes rooted to his lips, his tongue running across the bottom. You had half a mind to follow the trail with your own mouth.

“What’s stopping you?”

And as he took in your words, the true implications behind them—as his eyes locked with yours for a second, you knew then and there the answer to your question.

The answer, which Jeonghan bestowed as he closed the final distance. 

Your ex-lover wasted no time as he held your face in his shaking hands and enveloped his lips with yours. 

It was as if the entire universe sighed in relief. 

Although your lips had not touched his for years, the way they moved harmoniously with his would have made it impossible to prove such a claim. It was as if you were welcoming back a long lost friend from the wilderness, greeting an ancient connection, strayed from the threads of time. It was second nature to kiss him back, holding onto the lapels of his blazer as you pulled him closer. 

It was like the beginning of the decade once more, on similar, half-drunk nights like this when this exact dream of a man swooped you into midnight corners and stole the breath from your lungs. These memories began to unravel the more his mouth encircled yours, teasing you open, aching to explore you.

He repeated his antics of years ago, rendering you breathless. You did not pull away, holding onto his mouth as if he would leave you forever. His hands travelled down, resting upon the sides of your neck, caressing your skin, as he pulled away to your utter misfortune.

You gasped for air, only able to stand due to the iron grip on his blazer. “…missed you, Jeonghan,” you said once more, the soft confession fanning his lips, but you did not realise it. Everything was becoming a little blurred—a haze of events linking and unlinking, with the sole connection being the man you missed. 

Even though he heard you before, his gaze still softened. His thumb ran slowly along the wet seam of your lips, and your patience began to run thin. “I am…so glad you said that, chérie.”

And once more he was upon you, this time leading you further back until your velvet dress bunched at the side of the bed. His mouth never ceased its labour as he sat you upon the tousled sheets, as disarrayed as you as your hands travelled to his hair—your gloves robbed you of the feeling of his locks, as soft as the fabric covering your fingers. 

When he felt the silk of your gloves, he broke away from you, stunning to you a dumbfounded silence. He held your wrists, gently pulling you away from his raven hair, stroking the silk of your covering. “I want…” he was slowing his words, as if tasting each request that throbbed within his soul. “Off…I want this off…”

His words had you obliging him instantly. With your shaking hand—a trait he had noticed, and relished in—you slowly pinched the tips of the fingers, tugging back the silk till the glove was off. You flexed your now-naked fingers, almost embarrassed to see the man regard them as if you had stripped yourself bare before him. You would have done the second had his own aching hands not gotten your covered arm.

Jeonghan’s fingers were gentle, albeit a little clumsy, even as he tried to razor in his clouded focus upon the white silk. Slowly, but surely, he pulled on the fabric, and his eyes savoured the glove, smoothly sliding off your arm. 

Your skin was revealed underneath the moonlight, and you felt the actor’s tremble of his fingers as they enveloped one of your hands, raising it to his lips. His mouth was warm as he kissed your palm, finally able to revel in the warmth of your touch. The action was so intimate you had to say something, anything, but before you could even open your mouth, his heavy stare raised to yours, and had you falling completely silent.

His eyes darted upon your Dior gown, completely without shame as he drank in the details of the dress, the diamonds, and how you carried the entire look—the moment you had stepped into Moulin Rouge, and now, in front of him, tousled with your stained lipstick, and a frantic stare rooted to him.

His gaze could have set you on fire as he held both of your hands, fingers never stopping their climb upward. 

“You look…truly divine in that dress.”

This time, you blamed the alcohol for the truth that escaped you as his hands held your face, urging you closer to him once more. 

“I wore it just for you.”

That was enough for him to curve the corners of his lip upward—even the devil could not feign the drunk pride that exuded from his smile. 

“I know, chérie…I know.”

And he dove straight back in.

This time, in the midst of his heated, smug kisses, you felt his tongue teasing along your lips, and your soul nearly abandoned ship. You could not open up fast enough, letting him slide inside, taste the wine that stained your own tongue. Your groans were broken as he swirled his tongue with yours, sucking slightly on it with his mouth, a dull throbbing inside of you which had not felt such pleasure in such a long time. They did not stop as he continued, smiling against your mouth.  

You were so wrapped up in him, enveloping him in your arms, even more desirable since you truly felt his hair underneath your fingertips. His locks were silkier than your gloves, softer than the velvet of your dress. There was no room for space between you two, you half in his lap with every inch closer you had crept in between heated touches. You wanted him all over you, more so when, with a carnal desperation, he pushed you further into the sheets. Breaking away from your mouth, he planted open-mouthed kisses upon your jaw, trailing slowly down. 

His fingers crept upon your waist, trying to feel you under this dress, trying so ardently to break you out of it. You could not believe that you would have damned your precious Dior to bare yourself before him, broken your diamond necklace to allow him better access upon your neck. The delirium caused by the alcohol morphed into delirium caused by his hands, his mouth, his incoherent mumblings, praising you, relishing you. 

At this point, even you could not contain the voices of pleasure that slipped out of you, sighing softly at every touch of his lips upon your skin. “Jeonghan…” you whispered out, feeling an ache around your core. “Jeonghan, please—”

The said actor let out a soft moan at your pleading. “Please what?” Another kiss planted upon your neck. “What do you want?”

“I…” 

You! 

You! you wanted to say, because it was the absolute, unadulterated truth. You wanted him near you, on you, fuck, inside you. You wanted him desperately, more than all the riches you had craved for in your youth—perhaps, deep inside, you would have forgiven the loss of your fame if it meant you could be wrapped around your ex-lover forever. 

Yet the alcohol had your words all jumbled, mind all dishevelled. Your eyes could not even decipher the full clarity of his beauty before you, and you blinked back, trying to focus on his face. In the corner of your mind, fatigue began to appear.

But you remained stubborn. Held onto whatever part of his you could latch on to and whimpered, “I want you, Jeonghan.”

You took in the wildfire of lust that set ablaze in his eyes.

You could have jumped with joy.

Colliding against each other once more, you damned your concerns as you revelled in the actor’s hands, swiping up the heavy folds of your gown till your legs were exposed, the velvet bunching at your waist. He offered rest to your love-bitten throat, taking a peak at the black lingerie that was revealed, and his jaw going slack had you trying to close your legs in sheer embarrassment.

His hand upon your thigh stopped you. “Come on, mon ange,” he began, spreading your legs further apart. “Why be shy with me now?”

When you tried to avert his penetrating stare, his two fingers fell to your chin, turning you to him. “You said you wanted me, no?”

God. You decided to go limp underneath his touch, and he let out a rasping chuckle, settling between your legs. He leaned into you, his hair tickling your cheeks.

“Then have me,” he whispered. 

Fuck.

You were never refusing his order.

Jeonghan was about to slip past your slick underthings, take your lips with his own, ruin and salvage you upon the bed with no one but the stars watching.

That was when the loudest knocking you had ever heard thundered on the hotel door.

“_____! PLEASE TELL ME YOU ARE INSIDE!”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your sockets, the actor’s head whipping to the entrance. 

“JESUS, _____, YOU BETTER NOT BE PASSED OUT ON SOME RANDOM STREET—!”

“Son of a bitch,” you got out, your fingers sagging down to the blazer. 

“Is that…” Jeonghan’s brows knitted in thought. “Seungkwan?”

The deafening knocking continued, pounding your head into aching. “Maybe if we stay quiet he will leave,” you mumbled. You, however, were well aware of the foolishness of such a suggestion.

The agent’s rapping only increased in tempo. 

“I HAVE A FEELING YOU ARE IN THERE! IGNORING ME!”

A dire shame that your friend knew you so well.

“Perhaps we should let him in.” You were met with a defeated stare, slight amusement staining his vision. “I fear he will kick the door down, and the Ritz staff will finally have a reason to throw you out.”

You groaned. “Jeonghan!” 

“JEONGHAN?! DO I SOUND LIKE FUCKING JEONGHAN TO YOU…In retrospect, that should be taken as a compliment…”

“Damn it,” you hissed, “Bastard heard me.”

When the beautiful, half-drunk man began to ease himself off you, his hands furthering from your lingerie, all the drowsiness that you had pent up completely vanished.

You were going to murder Seungkwan.

Heaving off of the bed, head pounding harder than the knocks on the door, you grabbed your skirts, thundering to the entrance of your hotel room.

Twisting the knob, you thrust open the door, finding your agent’s raised fist, ready to tear down the wood. 

He caught sight of your dishevelled appearance, and twisted his lips in a frown.

“What the hell took you so long!” he began shouting already, stepping past you and going inside. “I was beginning to think you had died—!”

He stopped—stared at your guest, who was as dishevelled as you were—noticed the lipstick stains on his usual coral mouth, glistening. Then, he whipped his head to you, noticing how your mouth was more swollen—as if it had been softly bitten. 

Seungkwan slapped his hands to his mouth.

“Oh, stop it!” you exclaimed, suddenly wishing the roof would fall on your head. 

The film noir star walked closer to the two, fixing his blazer. “Sorry for keeping you waiting,” he said, raking his slender fingers through his hair. “We became a little…distracted.”

Your face burned hotter than the summer sun. “No, no! I need no apologies!” the agent immediately countered, raising his hands in surrender. “In fact, let me apologise for, um…stopping you both!”

“Oh, Jesus!” You pointed at the door. “Leave us already!”

“No, _____, it is alright,” Jeonghan assured you, glancing at the clock. “I fear I must leave anyway. If Seungkwan has just arrived back, then Joshua is probably still at Moulin Rouge, taking care of the press. I must let him know that you and I are fine.”

But you were glaring so violently at your friend that he could have squirmed. “No, no, Jeonghan, do not leave on my behalf! I will return to my room this instant!” 

He hurried to the doorway, turning back only to you. The implications of his scrutiny were clear. 

We will be talking about this.

“I must apologise again, Jeonghan, truly!” he called out once more, the tips of his ears turning crimson. “You both…carry on with whatever you were doing!”

Before you could cuss him out for such a suggestion, he was out of the room, cursing under his breath loud enough for the two of you to hear. 

At least it was not just yourself, experiencing those exact feelings. 

The room was much quieter—too quiet for you, now that you felt his presence near you, undisturbed by any more nosy agents. 

You bid yourself to speak. “So…”

His stare was upon you. “So.”

“You, um…are you really going back to see Joshua?”

He nodded, albeit more hesitantly. “Yes, I…I suppose I must show my face to the press or they will tear Joshua’s party to bits.”

“I see.”

You were exhausted. Even at that moment, when you finally turned your head to return his gaze, you knew that you were minutes away from collapsing to the floor. You had barely any strength left, the alcohol settled and refusing to leave your system. You could tell Jeonghan felt the same—with the way his cheeks flushed, his eyes darting to every feature of your face, your tousled dress. 

Even with the barrier of your slowly dying consciousness, you tried one last time to make him stay.

“Will you not finish what you started?”

The actor, instead of his usual, composed smile, grinned at you, a little more lopsided than he usually exposed. Even in his fatigued stupor, he could catch your incorrect taunt. 

He stepped closer to you. Close enough to reach out and take you in his arms should he wish it.

“Was it really me who started this, chérie?”

No—of course he was not.

“Besides…”

His hands reached out, holding your face in utmost tenderness.

“I cannot have you when we’re both like this.”

Your confusion had him explaining. “Look at us…we’re both so tired, and drunk, and…I tend to forget things if I take a glass too much at a party.” His thumbs stroked your cheeks. “I fear I might forget moments of tonight, too.”

You could not believe how that did not bother you. “So?” you asked quietly, holding onto his wrists. 

“So…I cannot accept it.”

“Why?”

There, at that moment, your ex-lover’s eyes darkened, ever so slightly. 

“Because I want you and I to be sober when I have you…I want you to remember my hands on your body, my tongue all over your skin.” His thumb inched closer to the corner of your mouth. “I want you to remember my fingers slipping between your thighs, one by one till you’ll beg me to replace them with my cock.”

Jeonghan’s finger ran along your spit-slick lips. “God, chérie, I need you to remember the exact moment when I’ll slide inside you, and make you beg for release.”

The words alone had a small whimper escaping your mouth. 

“Right now, we are both drunk beyond relief.” A small sigh left him, fanning your lips. “You will not even recall this conversation, let alone how much I want to fuck you.” 

He delighted at your reaction, your legs like soft jelly. “I cannot have that at all.”

If he was expecting you to respond, he was sorely mistaken.

All you could do was gape at him, drinking in the words that have left his mouth.

Your silence allowed him to pull away, slowly making his way to the door. 

He was nearly out of your room when you finally found your voice. 

“When will I see you again?”

He looked over his shoulder.

You hoped with all your heart that you would remember the promise in his smile. “Sooner than you think…if you will allow it.”

You returned his mirth. “Good.”

And that was all you needed—he, too, sensed it, and bid you a sweet, slurred adieu before leaving the premises. 

As you closed the door after him, trudging back to your bed, you caught sight of your silk gloves, settled on the sheets. 

Instinctively, you bit your lip. 

The actor was mistaken.

Because no matter how drunk you would have been, even more so than you were now, you would not be able to forget it had he crossed the final boundaries.

You would have remembered every detail he said you would not.

And although, in any normal circumstance, your memory had never served you well, at least it excelled in one matter.

You knew that, at the end of the day, Yoon Jeonghan could never be forgotten.

Especially by you.

LE FRANCE-SOIR, 11TH OCTOBER,1954

YOON JEONGHAN ONCE AGAIN DOMINATES ALL THE PRESS TOURS FOR NEW MOVIE!

You know it, readers! Our favourite superstar, Yoon Jeonghan, once again vows viewers and fans from all around the world with an exclusive new radio interview with French talk-show host Jean d’Arcy. He exposes a few details about his upcoming movie, his budding friendships with his co-stars, and charms the listeners with his witty answers! 

Many from the audience noticed how happy he has been ever since he stepped foot in Paris. He was all-smiles at the press shoot, and as well as lighting up the radio station during the interview with his joyous attitude. We at France-Soir are delighted to know that our city has brought such elation to the actor, but there is speculation that a romance may be in the works.

That’s right, readers! 

What we only need to find out is who managed to snag the most eligible celebrity in the world?

THE WEEK THAT WENT AFTER THAT FATED NIGHT WAS INDESCRIBABLE.

If there truly was a Lord that rested beyond the clouds of this atmosphere, then you would have very well fell to your knees and thanked Him for your reversal of fortune. It was as if the deities that controlled your life decided to cease their prejudices against you, and finally give you a taste of joy.

Never in your wildest fantasies did you think you would be fooling around with your ex-lover in your favourite place. Hell, if you got told that you would speak to Jeonghan again a month back, then you would have laughed at the messenger of such news and wished them the same misery you went through in your first weeks here. 

It was just so fun—away from prying eyes, hidden from the cameras. The two of you conducted secret meetings between his press tours, sneaking away from dinners to conjoin in moonlit corners, simply because the thrill of secrecy ignited the desire the two of you shared. What helped such stealthy rendezvous were the hours of your meetings—always after midnight, always leaving before the sun caught you both red-handed in each other’s arms.

Jeonghan did question the strange timings at the beginning, already certain of your answer. You tried to wave away his questions, but the beautiful bastard was persuasive. In the end, you confided your fear of being captured by the press, which confused him even further.

“Why are you so scared of the reporters catching you with me?” he had asked you one night, as the two of you shared a cigarette underneath the Arc de Triomphe. “If anything, won’t it help you if you’re seen with me?”

Your harsh chortling had him handing the cigarette to you instantly. You took a long drag, puffing out the smoke. “You may be untouchable, but I most certainly am not.” Tipping the ashes upon the pavement, you presented it. “My reputation is infectious, Jeonghan. The press would drag you down to my level.”

The man clicked his tongue, inhaling the tobacco. “Stop speaking about yourself like that,” he chided, “One scandal does not cause ruination.”

“I am right here,” you countered, your hands waving to your figure. “Ruined because of one scandal.”

“Well…” The corner of his lips quirked upward. “You haven’t had just one scandal.”

Your withering glare had him chuckling, smoke curling from his mouth. “No need to rub it in,” you muttered, taking the cigarette from him. 

“I’m only thinking of solutions here, darling.” He watched you lean against the stone monument. “You said you missed acting, no?”

You nodded, taking a drag. “Then have you responded to any casting calls recently?” he asked you.

Your smile was weak—weaker when the actor tutted. “I am trying, I promise!”

“Are you?” He received the cigarette once more. “I cannot say for the day calls, but I can confirm you haven’t attended any night auditions.”

“I have you to blame for that,” you mumbled, “Wasting my nights.”

The quirked brow that welcomed you had your stomach fluttering. “Wasting your nights, am I?” he repeated, the sultry baritone furthering your nerves. “Perhaps I should inform those journalists of my location…”

“You wouldn’t dare!” you immediately snapped, which had the man grinning “You know what, maybe it is time to put an end to these meetings!”

Jeonghan’s malicious stare only enhanced his amusement. “As you wish, mon ange,” he purred, taking a last drag before dropping the butt of the cigarette to the pavement, snuffing it out with his boot. “I will find some other disgraced actress to entertain at this hour.”

The scoff that escaped your mouth had him unable to contain his laughter. “Fine! But you won’t find a better disgraced actress than me, I can tell you that!”

You were so caught up in your petty temper that you did not notice your ex stepping closer, arms reaching out. When his hands slithered about your sides, pulling you closer, you blinked back to find him gazing down at you, his smirk softening. 

His locks nearly caressed your cheeks. “You know I want no other, right?”

You rolled your eyes at him, but the battle of restraining a smile was bound for defeat. “Of course,” you said, sarcasm clear in your voice. 

“Plus,” he added, drumming his fingers upon your clothes, smirk morphing once more, “After fooling around with the most disgraced actress in Hollywood, how could I seek scandal somewhere else?”

Your smile then became a flash of teeth. His laughter resonated around the Arc as you pushed him from you, crossing your arms as you seethed at him. “Ass,” you could only say, because everything else merely accentuated his delight.

Even that night ended on a sweeter note, despite Jeonghan’s attempts to get you to audition more frequently. At first, you thought that your greatest nightmare—another Seungkwan—had come alive, but at least he still retained the incessant pestering that only your agent had mastered so irritatingly well.

The rest of the week had managed to sail smoothly enough. 

Although you had still not seen Jeonghan as much as you would have liked, a part of you was delighted that he had not changed at all. With every conversation, every taunt, you were reminded of the glory days—when you two had first entered the relationship in your late teens, both novices in the acting field, and one look at him confirmed your suspicions of his genuinity. Of course he had matured—five years does tend to shift one’s youth—but even with that time between you two, his youth had not disappeared. It was almost masked beneath his charismatic demeanour, the image he conveyed to the public.

At least, with you, he shared a bit of himself.

With his premiere creeping closer upon him, he had to prepare, so spent a few less evenings with you than you had anticipated. You could not blame him, obviously, for investing that time in his upcoming movie, but a part of you wished that you could have been involved. Not that you needed to participate in his project, but hearing him excitedly recite the future events always had you biting the inside of your cheek, swallowing down the slight tinge of jealousy that stains your tongue.

It made you want to invest in yourself.

Was it not Jeonghan’s words, that you should not let others dictate your destiny? 

Yes, you were still doubtful of such a powerful declaration, but being in his presence made you want to try.

And trying, at this stage, was more than enough.

So, carrying out your ex’s suggestion, you let Seungkwan know of your new dedications, and urged him to find more auditions in the city. The man could not believe your changed attitude, but when he began to poke fun at it, you sent him a glare so withering he shivered out of your hotel room.

Despite your agent being the greatest son of a bitch known to man, he was damned good at his job—within the week, he disclosed to you information that had your jaw falling to the floor.

“A Choi Seungcheol film?!”

Seungkwan lifted his chin in pride, smirking in self-satisfaction. “Let’s say your agent has not lost his lustre yet. I still have my connections.”

“I must say, I’m impressed.” You waved your hands at him, sizing him up. “All this time, I wondered whether I had wasted my money on you.”

His expressive vanity faltered. “That better be a bad joke, _____,” he jeered, handing you the documents relating to the role. “The script has not been fully finalised, but Seungcheol’s assistant informed me that it’s very hush-hush at the moment.”

Taking the papers, you gave them a skim-over. “Why are they doing the auditions in Paris?”

“They said something about wanting to film the first locations in the city. I think the movie is set here.”

That had your excitement increasing. “Even better.” You looked at him, smiling. “Thank you for this.”

Seungkwan shrugged, but he returned your mirth. “Just doing my job.” He glanced at his wrist-watch. “Now, I must leave you. I have a sweet little date in an hour.”

If you thought landing a prestigious audition in your state was shocking, then that piece of information rocked you to your core. “You? On a date?”

A sour look. “Why did you say it like that?”

You raised your hands in surrender. “No, you’re right, I’m just…” You grinned, watching him inspect himself in your mirror. 

“What? Shocked that I don’t dedicate my entire life to your failing career?” Your agent scoffed. “If I’m sinking with your ship, let me at least indulge in my last moments.”

“Oh, please!” you mocked, joining him in the mirror. “I let you have fun!”

“For the sake of decorum, I will keep quiet,” he muttered. “And anyway, why berate me? Don’t you have a date with Jeonghan tonight?”

That you could not argue against. “I wonder where he’ll take me,” you thought out loud. 

“As long as I don’t see you both,” he said, fixing his waistcoat, “I will be satisfied.”

An incredulous look. “I hope your date doesn’t show up.”

“I hope the press ruins your night.”

“That was too far!”

“Do not expect rosy praises from me.” He turned around, tucking his blazer closer. “I am not your ex-boyfriend.”

“Thank the heavens for it!” you proclaimed, walking to the door. “Now will you get out already? I have to prepare.”

“Fine, fine!” Seungkwan strolled to where you stood, the hotel door wide open. “Don’t forget to read over the details, all right?”

“Yes, yes, I know!” you rushed, almost pushing him out. “You have a good evening!”

“Don’t forget!” he only exclaimed back before exiting the room, leaving you to your newfound knowledge. 

A chance to work in a Seungcheol production.

This could change your life.

Although you never had the chance to work with him in your career, the director had gained unimaginable fame for his movies. He had always been in demand in the industry before you became an actress, but after one blockbuster after another, every actor, even outside of Hollywood, wished for a chance to work in his films. 

The thought stayed in your mind throughout the day, comforting you through the evening, capturing your attention even when Jeonghan arrived to pick you up in the middle of the night. It was almost four in the morning, the usual time of your meetings, a time you had insisted on.

Sneaking out of the hotel, you instantly rushed into the familiar Bentley, car-door already open for you. Seeing the film noir star seated had you instantly lighting up. His hair was tied back in a small ponytail, flyaways framing his face as he released his hands from his leather jacket, a simple white shirt peeking out from the black exterior. He unfolded his legs at the sight of you, a dazzling smile morphing his coral lips. 

Leaning in, he held your chin and kissed you softly, humming against your mouth. Although it only lasted a few seconds, your head still spun as he broke away, licking his bottom lip. 

“Evening,” you got out in your daze. 

His effect on you had him incredibly smug. “Good evening,” he responded, stroking your chin with his thumb. “Are you ready to go?”

When you nodded eagerly, he pressed his lips upon yours, smiling against you. Breaking away, he straightened in his seat, ushering the driver to begin driving. Obliging instantly, the sleek vehicle drove out of the Ritz’s circle, reaching the main roads.

“Where are you taking me tonight?” you asked him as you observed the Seine, lapping against the banks. 

“Guess.”

Your mouth pressed in a line. “You know that I am terrible at guesses.”

“This, actually, is a very easy guess.”

You glanced at him, the city around you turning greener with the excess of trees, more and more appearing the closer you drove to your destination. “I will wait till we reach this mysterious place.”

Turning from the great gardens, the car crossed a great bridge, the Seine residing underneath the stone. Once crossed over, the ride began to slow, stopping just before the huge stretch of lawn, cut off from the car window. You would have looked out from your own window, but your view only offered the river, the real destination at Jeonghan’s side. 

The man stepped out from the vehicle, circling around to open your door. You eased yourself out, about to thank him when you turned to where he brought you.

Your head tilted up to take in the full sight of the Eiffel Tower.

It surprised you how tall it really was—you should not have been, considering you had seen it countless times in the past, but for some reason, you had forgotten how overwhelming the landmark was. A rush of breath escaped you, staring and staring at it as if it had just graced its presence this moment, and not over sixty years ago. 

Your ears caught Jeonghan’s French, muttering orders to the chauffeur to stay put, nearing you once again. “Let’s go,” he said, sliding his hand into yours. 

He led you away from the quay you both stood upon, boots touching the freshly-cut lawn of the Eiffel gardens. The only sound around you two was the autumn whistles of the wind, and the soft crunch of the grass beneath your feet. 

As you both walked closer, you turned to him, asking, “You’re not taking me up there, are you?”

Jeonghan’s eyes were rooted to one of the entrances, situated at either footing of the Tower. “So you’re good with guesses, after all.”

“But it’s closed.” You looked around, spotting some people working around the east pillar. “Aside from the workers there’s no one else around here.”

The actor tutted in a melodramatic fashion, tugging you to walk to the others. “Poor, sweet fool,” he began, swaying your enclasped hands, “Have you still not understood the benefits of being with the most famous man in the world?”

You could only shake your head at him. “Rubbing your advantages in again, I see.”

“Not rubbing them in,” he clarified, “But allowing you to exploit them.”

“Of course,” you said, fighting back your mirth. “Well, let’s see how this is going to work.”

The people that were overlooking the entrances perked up at the two of you, one of the women walking up. “Bonsoir, Monsieur Jeonghan!” she greeted.

“Bonsoir.” He eyed the tower looming right above them. “I made a special request to be taken up tonight.”

“Oui, oui, I remember…on the phone!” Excitement spilled from her features. “Pardon me, but I’m your biggest fan!” 

The man gave her a smile, thanking her profusely. She then turned to you, eyes widening. “Mon dieu…_____?”

You don’t know why that unnerved you. “The very same.”

Her gaze darted between you two—down to your entwined fingers. “Oh…” The shock that spread her face had you almost repelling your hand from his. “Certainement pas! You are back with her? After so long?” 

Her heightened questions attracted the attention of her colleagues, who were all surprised to see the two of you side-by-side. “It must be what? Trois? Quatre? Non, five years!”

You shifted on your feet, hand involuntarily tightening against his. When he sensed your growing discomfort, he opened his mouth, raising his hand to stop the incoming questions. “You must excuse us, but we don’t want to discuss these topics.” He then gestured to the Tower entrance. “We would appreciate it if you could take us up.”

The workers did not look like they were done with their inquiries, but of course, they had to comply with the actor’s wishes. “Bien sur…of course,” the first woman assured him, ushering the two of you forward. “Please, follow me.”

The Tower employees helped you through the security railings, slipping into the iron pillars. You were entered into a silver lift, lightbulbs sparking to life as you all went up. You stayed close to Jeonghan as the grating noise of the elevator continued, the guide watching you both intently.

You knew that the Eiffel Tower had two floors, but when you went past the second, you asked the woman. 

Jeonghan answered for you. “We’re going to the very top.”

Once you reached the final level, the lift door opened, leading you to a tightly-spaced, curved hallway, the views from below peeking beyond small holes of the container. A set of stairs greeted you, and as your foot landed on the first step, your date thanked the woman, letting her know that she may stay on deck. 

“Non, non, I understand! You need privacy with your…amourette, non?”

Amourette. A fling. 

He smiled, but this time it did not reach his eyes. “Oui…you may come back in a couple of hours.”

Nodding in acceptance, the guide went back into the lift. Once he saw her descend, he joined you as you both went up the stairs. 

You noticed his slight frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Hmm?” He shook his head absent-mindedly. “Oh, nothing.” He reached the top of the stairs, you following suit.

You were going to pester him further when the view hit you.

It was as if the entire world lay beneath your feet.

Beyond the thin, criss-cross railings, keeping you back, you beheld the entirety of Paris underneath you. Familiar landmarks, the loops of the Seine, entire buildings packed within ordered streets, etched a story before you. It was as if some great, god-like painter had outlined languid brushstrokes to depict the soft current of the river, carved out marble to erect the tall buildings in each square, brought out the finest tools to detail each and every tree, gallery, monument that your vision could create. Dazed, you walked along, fingers touching the railing as you spotted the Louvre, nestled in the walls of its Palace, the Moulin Rouge, all the places that acknowledged your presence, tasted your enjoyment, relished your memories. 

You did not realise how much you fixated on the view till Jeonghan’s voice made you jolt. You whirled around, and found him holding two champagne glasses. “Where did you get those?” you asked him. 

He jerked his head to the right—a small bar greeted you, about a dozen unopened bottles stacked neatly along the bar surface. “I had them bring the drinks out for us.”

“You really know the way to my heart!” you exclaimed, grabbing one glass from him. 

“I should hope so,” he murmured, walking over to the bar, taking out a bottle of champagne. He set the glass down, grabbing a corkscrew. Popping open the cork, a fizz of alcohol sputtered from the top, you inching back from its trail as it stained the iron deck. Once it fizzled out, filled your glass, topping his own before putting the bottle back on the bar. 

Taking a sip, you turned back to the glorious view. “Paris truly is beautiful,” you said, gazing over the horizons of the ageing night. “I think I forget sometimes, but tonight…”

“Hmm…truly sensational.”

But you knew he was not looking over at the city’s horizon.

Cheeks heating, you avoided his stare, looking at your treasured place. 

The two of you spent the next hour sipping your champagne, walking the full circle to take in every inch of Paris and her slowly waking citizens. Soon, bored with your current drink, you tried several bottles from the collection—from the rarest red wines to spirits, careful not to indulge in too much alcohol lest you ruin your night with your drunken stupor. 

It must have been a while before you informed Jeonghan of your recent good news.

He was over the moon.

“This is amazing news!” he proclaimed, raising his glass. “To you and the revival of your fame!”

“I don’t know about that,” you said, sipping your wine. “I mean, it’s just the audition. It’s not as if I’ve been offered the part.”

“Well, I know you’re going to get it,” he insisted. “You are the best actress I have seen in cinema.”

You kissed your lips, finishing your drink. “Now you’re just saying things.”

“You know I don’t just say things.”

That you did.

“Oh well,” you started, walking over to the bar. “I hope I do get the role, if only to shut everyone up.” You topped up your glass. “God, did you hear what that woman said of me? You are back with her?” you parrotted, amplifying the venom in your words. 

Jeonghan heard much more from that guide’s lips, too, but he did not share them with you—you did not need another comment to torment you. 

“The nerve,” you muttered, drinking your wine. “I will never forgive the press for the stories they made about our relationship.”

That comment had the actor pausing. He looked down at his rosé, swirling it in his glass. 

He wished he could say something about your declaration—in truth, the blame could not have been brought at the media’s door for the ending of his relationship with you, all that time ago.

But you were with him here—basking in his presence, drinking his alcohol, laughing at his jokes. Maybe another time, he will resort to difficult conversation.

So he only waved you off. “Don’t mind them, _____. What matters is that you and I are here now.”

“Yes, but…” You regarded the view. “This was the first time you and I were seen properly together and something was said about me.” You could help the sharp exhale. “It’s just…what would happen if we went out in daylight? When the whole world is watching us, judging us?”

He listened to you, taking in your concerns. He stepped closer to you, standing side-by-side, shoulders grazing against each other. 

As he watched the entire world—the world that only the two of you could see—he sipped his drink, letting his heart speak for him.

“Then we’ll damn the whole world together.”

You turned to him—but he was staring at the horizon, a sliver of sunshine peeking from its lining. 

You could not breathe. 

“Jeonghan…”

“Do you know why I brought you here today?”

Your hands interlocked with each other, holding the flute. “Was there a specific reason?”

He clamped his lips together, dipping his head. His hand reached out to the railing, pointing at the sun, shy, hesitant in its rise. The rays slipped out from the horizon, peeking out from the thousands of buildings that tried to hide it. “You see the sun?” We haven’t seen it together since we’ve reunited.”

Watching the day endeavour to begin, your confusion had you questioning him. “So?”

A moment had to pass before he continued. “Don’t you ever want to see me in the daytime?”

“Of course I do, but…” you pressed your lips in a thin line, swirling your drink. “I couldn’t take what they’d say about you and me.”

“I could take it for you,” he murmured. “If you would let me.”

Your next intake of breath was hitched—sharp. “They already say too much about me, Jeonghan. I cannot let you be a victim to it too.”

His nod was hesitant.

If only you would understand that he did not care.

He did not care a single a bit should the cameras caught him with you. Hell, he would have pressed his aching lips to yours, give them something to really talk about. 

He had to confess his growing desperation.

Sneaking around with you gave him great joy, but watching the sun’s light shine on your face, illuminating your skin…the sight brought him happiness the likes he had not felt in a long, long time. Perhaps you were not aware of it, but in his eyes, you were too talented, too brilliant to be hidden away in the shadows—be it the darkness of his favourite city.

You were always meant to be admired.

Swallowing the lump of cowardice, lodged within his throat, he reached out, holding onto your hand. 

Perking up, you gaped at his fingers enveloping around yours before focusing on him. 

“Whatever the tabloids write about us, whichever reporter takes pictures of us…it’ll all be in vain.”

His thumb gently stroked the back of your hand. “I lost you once before, chérie,” he muttered, voice lowering.  

“I cannot lose you again.”

Your heartbeat paused.

Halted for a few moments, dazed at the words that left the actor’s lips. As if time had mellowed twice over, you blinked back at him, each caress of his thumb sparking you alive. 

His gentle, melancholy gaze locked with yours. 

In that second, atop the highest peak in Paris, you witnessed the sun, now rising with more confidence, spill its light upon its subjects. The most special of those subjects, right before you, received its brilliance, lighting the dark irises of his eyes, making his skin glitter. In these moments, you let yourself forget that you were a disgraced, unwanted actress, harbouring feelings for a man who was supposed to be unattainable. In that singular moment, stretching to a thousand years, you believed in him.

In a world filled with lies, rumours and deception, you clung onto the one figure of truth.

Never had believing in a person been so easy.

“Jeonghan,” you whispered, gravitating closer to him. His name fanned his lips, and he broke the seam, gazing down at your mouth.

“_____,” he said right back, tenderly—desperately. 

You closed the fine distance.

Enveloping his lips with your own, his elated hums escaped him as he melted onto you, letting go of your hand and encircling his own around your waist. The kisses he had shared with you were ravenous, always aching to fill the absence of years between you, but this time, the burning fires had been soothed, mitigated by the movements of your mouth, slotting perfectly against him. His stray curls caressed your cheeks as he angled his head, delving deeper into you, savouring the way you tasted.

Perhaps you both would have stayed forever in this position, high above the prying eyes, but now the sun had left its sanctuary, shining brightly upon you two. You made yourself pull away, empty glass in hand as you clutched onto his leather jacket. 

You allowed yourself to confide in him as you said, “I liked it, you know.”

A teasing quirk of his brow. “The kiss? I sure well hope so.”

“That too, but…” You ticked your head at the view of Paris, and the sun shining upon it. “Doing this at dawn. I missed how you looked in the daylight.”

Jeonghan wished there was a way to capture such a precious comment and store it in his heart forever. 

He was about to say something when he heard rustling from beyond the stairs of the entrance. Gaze straying beyond yours, you, too, turned around, finding the guide at the foot of the steps.

“Ah, oh!” She exclaimed, witnessing your affectionate moment. “Désolé, sorry, sorry! I just wanted to let you know that the Tower will be opening to the public in a couple of hours.”

“Right,” the actor responded, his hold on you steady. “We’ll be with you shortly.”

As the guide scurried away to the lift entrance, a short huff of breath escaped you. “I wish we could have spent the day here as well.”

Slowly, as if it hurt to do so, he retracted his hands from your waist. “I know,” he agreed, taking your empty glass from you, setting them both atop the bar.

“Are you not important enough to rent out the Eiffel Tower for the whole day?” you drawled, earning scoffed laughter from him.

His fingers grazed your back as he led you down the stairs. “Next time, you can be responsible for our destinations.”

“I hope you will be satisfied with my hotel room, then,” you countered, smile never leaving your lips as the two of you entered the cramped deck, finding your way into the lifts once more.

The woman was there, closing the railed doors as the elevator began to go down. Her indecipherable gaze was upon you both, never quite leaving. “Monsieur, did you enjoy the views? She asked, hands locking in front of her.

“I have never seen anything so beautiful,” you thought out loud, already missing the skyline vision of the city. “I’ll be sure to return.”

All you received from your review was a hesitant smile. When Jeonghan agreed with you, her face lit up, as if Christmas had been announced a month early.

You furrowed your brows.

The way she acted around you was incredibly strange. Whenever you caught her looking at you, she would instantly avert your eyes, but you could not mistake the traces—hell, dollops of dislike that filled her gaze. You held onto Jeonghan’s hand a little tighter, scowling at the obvious favour for the actor before you. 

So you had your disapprovers beyond the media here. 

The lift down took another fifteen uncomfortable minutes, the only distractions being your date’s comments on the Tower, or his questions to the guide. Once you all arrived at the ground floor, the elevator doors opened, entering the welcome halls. 

“Enjoy the rest of your day!” the woman chirped at the man. She offered you a smile which did not reach her eyes. “Toi, aussi.”

Hmph. “Thank you,” you mumbled, Jeonghan dipping his head as the two of you made your way through the halls. 

As you heard a slight commotion from outside, you furrowed your brows. “Why is it so loud outside?” you asked. “Isn’t there still an hour till the Tower opens?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” he said, unable to check the windows too for the shutters were down. “Ah, well, it’s still early. I don’t think anyone will see us.”

Spotting the doors of the entrance, the two of you pushed them together, ready to return to your lives. 

That was when the worst possible drawback welcomed you at the foot of the pillar.

“Oh my fucking God—”

“There they are!”

“Finally!”

The mass of journalists scurried for their cameras, all their faces revealing the same shock as you and your ex-lover.

The cameras were raised, like zombies from the ground. 

You were offered one millisecond to blink back at the hundred black lenses, shutters snapping open. 

That was when chaos began.

Chaos, pure, tyrannical anarchy as a hundred click! click! clicks! of the cameras attacked you, accompanied by the saturated, white flashes. The flashes were the worst, making you cry out in surprise as you hunched over, like a criminal caught red-handed at the scene of the crime, like a cheat caught in bed with another. 

The lights were blinding, hurting your eyes, but the clicking had frozen you completely. This was the sound of your nightmares, and they had caught up to you—there you were, with the man who had not seen your worst, hounded by the press and reducing you to a creature unworthy of having a date up the Eiffel Tower. Your hands, reflexively, slapped to your ears, trying to drown the sound out, but to no avail; the media was a relentless entity, and it had found you with the one man they never even dreamt would be beside you.

You were destined for ruination.

Suddenly, your breaths were being snatched away, and what was an action so natural became impossible to overcome. Each shuddered inhale became shorter, harder, and the journalists even gasped at the way your mouth slackened, trying to engulf the oxygen that simply was not there.

You were going to die—this was the end, and a spectacular end one at that, worthy of an actress as volatile as you had become. You would crumble and collapse before the most famous man in the world, and he would watch in horror as a hundred journalists captured every moment of your suffering.

Among the hysteria of a thousand snappings of the shutter, and a million flashes of the lights, you felt a tug of strong arms around your shoulders.

A booming voice soared over the sea of cameras.

“Out of the fucking way!”

You did not have a moment to comprehend what was happening before the familiar hands on your arms propelled you forward—the wall of journalists split in half, making way for the seething actor, making your legs thunder down the pavement. You were not in control of your own limbs anymore. Completely at the will of another, your hands tightened against your ears as you heard orders to follow you. You did not listen to the murmurs of the man beside you, pressed against you as he led you out of the swarm of journalists. His eyes were razor-focused at the Bentley, stuck between the dozens of cars that had lined up against the quay. The trek was much slower, owing to the complete life-sucking shock you were experiencing, but if you and him could just get in the damn car—

“Jeonghan! Jeonghan, _____, just a few questions?”

“When did this romance revive?”

“Did _____ ask you out first?”

“Did _____ approach you?”

“Did _____ start this shocking relationship?!”

With every hateful question, Jeonghan’s rage grew.

For your sake, he kept his anger restricted in his gritted teeth and determined gaze, the car close enough to reach.

Wrenching open the car door, he nearly ripped it off its hinges, making his chauffeur jump at the start. “Get in, chérie,” he muttered to you, helping you inside, settling your curling mess beside him as he snapped the door shut. He turned to the man in the driver’s seat, voice booming louder. “We need to leave now!”

He did not have to repeat his order again.

Slamming his foot on the brakes, the chauffeur just managed to escape the horde of reporters, about to surround the vehicle. Instantly, you felt yourself jolt at the force of the car, undoubtedly breaking the speed limit as you were whisked out of the Eiffel Tower’s domain.

You, on the other hand, could not unhear the clicking.

The bright flashes tormented you in the car, not realising that your hands were still pressed upon your ears. Your breathing was still uneven, rasping out your mouth in hitched intervals, and if you curled anymore into yourself, you would have disappeared.

Perhaps that would have been best.

Jeonghan, endeavouring to calm himself from the reporters, took one look at your retreating figure.

His heart shattered in pieces.

Instantly his hands reached out, holding your wrists in his fingers, prying them away from your head. He tried to sit you up straighter, never letting go of you as he scanned your face, the lack of life prevalent in your features.

“_____….”

Your eyes darted to him. 

Jeonghan’s gaze began to twitch.

He turned to his chauffeur, already crossed the bridge over the Seine. “Take us to the apartment. We’ll be safe there—”

“No.”

He whirled his head to you.

Your stare had widened—slowly, you were shaking your head, gripping onto the bottom of the seat. “No.”

“_____, they are chasing after us.” He held your hand in both of his, trying to convince you. “They will not find us where I live—”

His speech was cut off when you repelled your hand from his hold.

“Take me back to the hotel.”

His brows knitted in confusion. “_____, they’ll know you’re there—”

“I don’t care.”

Your head still shook—your breathing was slowly normalising, but the complete lack of emotions in your eyes chilled the actor to the bone. 

“Take me back…now.”

He could only gape at you, his hands void of your presence.

Absentmindedly he carried the message to the driver, who then took the rigid turn into the Champs-Élysées, heading for the new destination.

The man endeavoured to gain a response from you, his own nerves rising from your heavy silence, not even deigning him a glance. The familiar, grand hotel was in view as the Bentley closened to the entrance, and your hand was already on the handle, anticipating the stop.

Jeonghan noticed instantly. “_____, wait—”

You did not wait for him to finish. The moment the car stopped, you hurled out of your seat. Slamming the door shut, you made to run into the entrances, biting down the urge to hold your face in your hands with every guest that watched your dishevelled appearance.

They were further shocked to find the film noir star getting out of the car, too, following after the likes of you.

His step was hasty, almost catching up with you when you whirled around, hand raised to stop him.

The look in your eyes made the man shiver.

“Don’t follow me in.”

With that, you turned your back to him, running past the grand doors of the Ritz. 

And even though every muscle in his slender body screamed at him to follow you inside, to the ends of the world, he could only stand still—mouth parted in shock, and eyes heavy with a loss.

The loss of a fantasy, and the possible loss of you and your faith in him.

LE FRANCE-SOIR, 12TH NOVEMBER, 1954

BREAKING NEWS: _____ _____ AND YOON JEONGHAN SPOTTED AFTER FIVE YEARS!

Who would have thought that you all would be seeing her name again? Not us! Well, we are about to rock your worlds when we give you this breaking news: once-superstar turned disgraced escapee _____ has finally come into view again, and with none other than her ex-lover Yoon Jeonghan!

That’s right—THE Yoon Jeonghan! 

The two lovebirds were spotted outside the Eiffel Tower, no doubt on a secret date, but their shocking relationship cannot be hidden any longer. Who would have thought, after nearly half a decade of zero contact, the two are tangled up in each other more than ______ was when she fist-fought her co-star! 

We are certain you all are wondering what has caused this absolute shocker of a reunion! Here at France-Soir, we have speculated that _____, unable to get out from her acting slump and continuous scandals, has come crawling back to our famed hero. Think about it—_____ on the fall, and Jeonghan on the rise—who would not wish their ex-boyfriend back in these conditions?

Readers have also expressed disappointment in Jeonghan for interacting with his infamous ex after so long. We assume that you are all concerned for his career, especially with the premiere of his upcoming movie just around the corner. 

Well, Yoon Jeonghan, if you are reading this (one can only dream!) then heed our advice—dump the phoney! Her scandalous reputation will only harm you. You would not want that again, would you?

This may be all we have for today, but not to worry, everyone. We will return with updates very soon. We have a feeling these two are only just starting.

YOU READ THE LAST WORDS OF THE COLUMN OF FRANCE-SOIR, CRUMPLING THE PAGES IN YOUR FINGERS.

With an uncontrollable rage, you ripped out the page, scrunching the page and throwing it across your room.

But that was not enough. 

Because the entire fucking magazine was riddled with no other news, pictures of yours and Jeonghan’s pure shock printed on every single side of the pages. 

You dropped the paper book upon the pile of dozens others.

Every single magazine in Paris had your picture upon it.

The disaster was upon you within two days. You knew you would not be able to escape it, but the exposition of you and the film noir star had rocked the world by storm. Every radio station, every television channel, every newspaper panel had written of you two being caught within the Eiffel Tower, all smiles and embraces. The public could not believe their eyes when they took hold of their preferred form of media, gazing or hearing the news. 

You and Jeonghan. The young lovers of Hollywood, doomed from the first time they ended their relationship, now continuing it once more. 

Although you anticipated the negative reaction, you were still shocked at the outpour of disapproval that came from the people.

Seungkwan, firstly, did not even wish to show you what others were writing of it, but he could not hide the truth from you for long enough. The outcries against you and your scandalous image, the lamentations against Jeonghan’s terrible decision to go along with the relationship you had somehow insisted on…that was not even half of the headlines. 

What surprised you the most was the protests against your ex-lover.

You had expected comments against you, but the complaints against your ex was something that threw you off. The negative reactions against his decision making, commenting on his poor choices, even going so far as to call him selfish for pursuing a relationship with you, especially with one of the biggest movies this year about to be released. You did not understand the responses that he received, since he was supposed to be untouchable. Even though you had predicted this would happen, it still did not lessen your shock. 

There was one element in common with all the complaints against him.

They still, in the end, placed the blame at your door.

Jeonghan should have known better than to become involved with _____.

Undoubtedly _____ was responsible for this relationship.

Why would someone like Yoon Jeonghan wish to reunite with someone like _____?

The last one stung for much longer than you wished.

Safe to say, in the days after your conflict with the press, you had not left your hotel room. 

When you first told Seungkwan of what had happened, you distinctly remembered the colour leaving his face. When he resorted to putting his head in his hands, you knew that things were about to take a turn for the worst.

It was bad enough to be caught in the busiest destination in Paris, but somehow the bastards in the media found out where you were residing at this moment—as of the past few days, the Ritz was hounded by the press everyday, waiting for you to come out, hand yourself to them like a sacrificial lamb. 

You were not going to let them win.

Whilst you were cooped into your hotel room, empty bottles plastered around you, you pondered on your situation. Paris as your sanctuary had been discovered, and was now being sacked. 

The evening had passed in the city, and you thought that the reporters were about to leave for the day when you saw the familiar Bentley driving in front of the entrance. Instantly you perked up, leaning into the window. 

With horror you watched as your film noir star left his car, snapping the door shut. 

His wavy hair was out, eyes hidden by the black shades perched on his delicate nose, a large trench coat hiding his slender figure as he strolled into the hotel, ignoring the million camera flashes upon him. His mouth was set in a hard line, his presence snuffed out as he faded from your view.

Fuck.

He was coming to see you. 

Suddenly, you whirled around to your room, in an even worse state than you last remembered. My God, he could not see you like this, visibly worsened since the last time he had laid his melancholy eyes on you.

Perhaps you could pretend you were not in the hotel.

The five minute wait from the entrance to your room was spent in such heart-wrenching anxiety that when the hard knocks on the door finally arrived, you jumped out of your skin, yelping out. 

There goes your original plan.

Taking a deep breath, hand resting on your stomach, you braved the steps to your door, shaking hand upon the knob.

You opened the door, facing the one entity you had been dreading.

One look at Jeonghan’s face, and you almost forgot everything that had happened.

His shades were off, revealing the shivering black pupils of his doe-like eyes, exposing such a panicked concern you could not help but part your mouth. He stood there before you, like a soul on its last threads of hope. 

He was going to say something when you heard the faint clicking of the cameras.

And then you remembered.

You remembered why you did not try to see him in the past days of this chaos; why you had resorted to surround yourself in these thick, 5-star walls, away from the world—away from him.

You steeled your gaze. “Why are you here?”

It was as if you had shot him. “Why…why am I here?”

But you turned your back to him, walking further into your domain. “You shouldn’t have come.”

His confusion had him absent-mindedly closing the door, following after you on instinct. “What are you talking about? I had to come, seeing as you won’t return my phone calls!”

Ah, yes. The constant ringing of your telephone in the past couple of days that you had dutifully ignored. You knew that it was no nosey journalists tormenting you, but the man you had feared to meet the moment the world realised where you truly hid.

You decided to evade his claims. “Those damned reporters have seen you now,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “Just you see what they’re going to write about in the papers tomorrow.”

Jeonghan’s voice had you near-flinching. 

“You think I give a fuck about the papers?”

On another evening you would have adored this comment—in another lifetime, where your every thought did not revolve around the flashing of the lights, the snapping of the shutters, and other people’s opinions.

“Of course you would say that!” you snarled, turning around. “Not that they’ve said anything about you!”

“Oh, they have said plenty about me,” he muttered. 

A scoff. “So you do give a fuck about the papers, then?”

The man’s coral lips pressed in a hard line. “I do not give a fuck when I have greater problems at hand.”

“What problems do you have, Jeonghan?” you demanded, taking a step closer. 

He matched your vigour. “I have this huge damned problem of why you are ignoring me.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” 

“Don’t…” he paused, taking a breath to steady his speech. “Don’t lie to me.”

You gritted your teeth. 

So it cannot be avoided. 

“Why did you take me in the daytime?”

He narrowed his brows. 

“What?”

“You knew this would happen,” you continued, agitation rising with each word that left your mouth. “You knew of my reputation, yet you still risked taking me out at dawn. Why did you decide the day and not the night?”

Your words left a horrible feeling in his stomach. “Don’t you find it strange? Meeting each other in secret like…like thieves?”

Your brows furrowed at that. “I don’t see it like that.”

“No?” He stared you down. “Then how do you see it?”

“We were being careful! So we do not get caught like we have now!”

“We have to act as if we have done something wrong…sneaking, creeping around, not even letting the day catch us.”

His groan was low. “What have we done? Choose to be with each other?”

“You know as well as I do that it is never as easy as that.” Your scowl was harsh, spoiling your features. “I told you the risks, Jeonghan, kept going on and on about what would happen should they catch us. Why did you do that to me?”

Jeonghan cocked his head, taking in your accusations against him. The furrow of his brow deepened, not quite believing what you held against him. “You…you thought I was trying to ruin your image? On purpose?”

“Well, no, but—” You clamped down on your lips, remembering memories from long ago, which were best kept far inside you. 

With his claim, though, you had to mention them—even if it hurt you. “I can see why you would wish to.”

“Why? Why would I wish to?”

“Because of what happened between us!”

Silence.

There—the first hints of the past.

You could have creased at his reaction.

“What the fuck?”

He was breathing out of his mouth now, narrowing his eyes. “How can you think that of me?” 

“Jeonghan, that’s not what I mean!” You pressed your hands to your hips, looking down at your feet. “I just—” Another sigh broke free, the truth aching in your throat the more it tried to escape. “I can understand if you did wish to expose me—”

The man’s scoff cut you off instantly. “I cannot believe you would suggest such a thing,” he snarled. “How can you bring such horrors from the past into this conversation?”

“Because this is the past repeating itself!” you exclaimed, your hands digging deeper at your sides. “Because we had this exact same conversation five years ago, and it did not end well!” 

“Oh my God!” His hand raked through his hair, trying to release his frustration into the poor, innocent locks. “Why are you still stuck to the ghosts of the past? I thought we had moved on from everything!”

“You might have moved on fine!” you corrected him, voice raising with each counter. “I have stayed in the same damned spot in LA, rotting when my movies didn’t do well, when the press would harass me, while you had everyone worshipping you!”

He blinked back at your exclamation. 

For the first time that evening, he felt unadulterated rage within his bones. 

“You know damned well I did not move on.”

You knew—of course you knew, but you were too fired up, thinking of the slander in the papers, the comments in the columns that haunted your every waking moment. You knew you were being unreasonable, but at that moment in time, you did not care one bit.

So you refused to restrict your cruelty. 

“You seemed very moved on to me!” you crowed, taking another step towards him. “Why, was it not mere weeks after our breakup that you shot to stardom, everyone in the world singing your praises?! You did not seem depressed at all!”

His voice was colder than the Alps. “Don’t talk as if you saw me in those months.”

“Of course I couldn’t! I was battling the same goddamn press that haunts me today!” You pointed your accusing finger at him. “You wouldn’t know what it’s like, to have your name slandered in every magazine, every television screen!”

“I wouldn’t know?! I wouldn’t know?!” Now he was walking up to you, a mere two feet from where you stood, shaking with anger. “You think I’ve forgotten how these fucking journalists came for me? Whose fault was that, huh?!”

You could not take this—he was ripping out the bandages of old wounds, and you knew that they had not healed. 

“Oh, so it was my fault?!” you screamed, slapping a hand to your chest. “I sent those reporters to your door?!”

“It was your fucking ex-manager who reported the news at that time! Or have you forgotten the details that don’t concern you?”

Your glare was laced with venom. “Now who’s clinging to ghosts?”

The harsh knit of his brows disappeared, face relaxing as he stared at you, almost as if seeing you for the first time. His head was quivering to the sides, almost shaking in disbelief. 

He had never looked so defeated in his life.

“Please don’t break my heart again, chérie.”

You blinked back.

Kept looking at him, listening to the plea that escaped his beautiful, drooping mouth. 

That alone could have broken your heart. 

“Wh-what…” your voice was barely a whisper. “What do you expect me to do? Pretend I am okay with…with all this?”

The shouting of the journalists was still prevalent in your ears, as well the encircling of the cars—waiting for the two of you to come out. 

You continued, void of life. “I cannot go through it again…you may have risen from the press five years ago but…I am still reaping LA’s consequences.”

A sharp tick appeared in the actor’s jaw. “So you punish me.”

Your eyes squinted, as if he sprayed you with acid. “I…” you gulped. “I have sacrificed too much, Jeonghan. You don’t understand.”

But he watched you, comprehending you perfectly. “No…no I do.” A smile morphed onto his face, a haunting quirk of his mouth that did not reach his eyes at all. 

“I was one of the sacrifices, no?”

You tried to snap back, rebuke him for such a claim.

Nothing came out.

Your breath hitched in your throat, refusing to let your white lie escape. You watched in horror as Jeonghan scoffed softly. 

“I—” you cursed, closing your eyes, trying to formulate your words, trying so ardently to not shatter his willpower. “You have to realise…back then…I didn’t break up with you because I didn’t l-love you…” A hard, shivering sigh. “My team that time, they said it was better for us to—”

“And what’s your excuse now?”

His interruption was barely a whisper.

“Who’s holding you back this time?”

You stared at him. Your hands tried to gesture to the torn up magazines, littered across your floor. “The world.”

“The world, huh? The people who torment you, this very minute?” He pointed to the window, where they could still be heard. “You choose them over me? Again?”

You had no answer to offer him. 

That was all he needed from you. 

He was nodding slowly, ever so slowly, and if you were not nervous before, you were riddled with anxiety now. Hesitantly, he turned, making heavy steps towards the door. 

You did not know why you tried to pursue him. “Wait, Jeonghan—”

His hands paused at the doorknob. You were going to reach for him, but he stepped past your hand.

He faced you one last time, his aching, sublime features now sombre. “I really thought, _____, that this time…it would be different.” 

His gaze darted over your features, as if he was never going to see you again. “Perhaps you were right…perhaps I was the one clinging to the ghosts of the past. I have learned my lesson.”

You could have burst into tears. 

But you only gaped at him as he opened the door. 

He looked over his shoulder. “I hope you find peace in your choice, chérie.”

With that, he left you, closing the door shut should you follow. 

And, five minutes later, as the snapping of the cameras grew louder, you whirled, running to your window. You watched your film noir star—your once actor thunder past the press, completely silent to the thousands of questions thrown his way about you as he swiftly dove into his car. 

Your glassy vision showed you his Bentley driving away from the Ritz entrance.

If only the reporters knew just where your hotel room was—then they could have captured a golden story for their papers. 

A perfect update to their awful story, because if they only looked up and saw you, then your tears would have been enough to deduce what had become of you and your ex-lover. 

LE FRANCE-SOIR, 26TH NOVEMBER, 1954

YOON JEONGHAN SPOTTED ALONE LEAVING MICHELIN STAR RESTAURANT!

Alone, we say! Was it not two weeks ago when the most shocking news of the year had been dropped upon you readers, and here he was on the streets of Paris, as dejected as a heartbroken fool? Ever since he left the Ritz, no doubt to talk to his heartbreaker, he has not been seen with _____ since. Perhaps he has finally caught onto his fans’ disappointment, and is expressing his apologies to you all!

As for _____, she has not been spotted outside. She has found her sanctuary somewhere else, but not to fret, everyone! We have our people outside of the hotel, and we will make sure to publish the pictures of her heartbreak too should she show herself to us!

NOTHING COULD SAVE YOU ANYMORE.

Whatever you thought you had with your once lover had seemed to cease completely. The infinite calls you had left him were ignored, and even showing up to where he was supposed to visit on press tours was not enough.

Once again, you had managed to land yourself in a ceremonious screw up.

You supposed that you should have been used to it by now. You were in this very city because of your infamous fuck ups, and your latest damage was almost irreversible. 

Seungkwan’s words fell on deaf ears.

Every morsel of food, every pint of alcohol could not fill the empty, hollow vessel in your heart, growing with each day without Jeonghan’s sultry murmurs entertaining your late nights. Almost comically, like the first few weeks in the city, you hid yourself away, the press a completely secondary thought to what plagued your every waking—dreaming moment. 

So you carried on with what you did best.

Shut yourself away in your hotel room, slowly withering yourself away in your mistakes. 

Why did you care so much about these fucking papers?

With every glass came another memory.

Please don’t break my heart again, chérie.

Yoon Jeonghan. The Yoon Jeonghan, the film noir superstar, bared his soul out to you, and you crushed it with no mercy.

Every single night you spent with this man, every single fleeting moment, you knew that perhaps you had felt the same. Of course, your self-destructing nature prevented you from ever achieving happiness, but even common sense begged you to reciprocate.

This time, your heart knew. 

But you had completely, fully, without a shadow of a doubt, fucked everything up.

The days of wallowing dragged on, and soon the only time you heard Jeonghan’s name was on the news, reporting of his last few nights in Paris before the end of his film promotions. Quickly you turned the television off, lethargically stumbling back into your bed before pulling the sheets over yourself, hoping the darkness would engulf you whole and eat you alive.

Of course, since the universe despised you more so than you thought, harsh rapping on your hotel door meant that you could never find peace, even within your pain. “Oh, fuck off!” you screamed in your broken rasp, hurting your head with the shrill volume.

“I’m not leaving this time, ____, open up!” a familiar voice drilled through, and you genuinely prayed for whatever entity torturing you to torture your dear friend too.

“I’m not opening the door, Seungkwan!” 

“You better, or I’m smashing it down!”

You merely scoffed, closing your eyes in hopes of sleep.

THUD!

Your eyes flew open.

THUD!

“I mean it!”

Groaning, you crawled out of the sheets, walking to the ramming door. You opened it much too quickly, nearly being kicked in the face. 

“Watch it, idiot!” you hissed, immediately retreating.

“I should kick you,” he greeted coldly, closing the door behind him as he fixed the strap of his satchel. Upon observing the worsening state of your room, he grumbled further, tossing aside the dirty dresses with his shoes. “God, I know you ruined your life, but could you not ruin this room? We still have to pay for this month.”

You knifed him with a look. “Cleanliness is the last thing on my mind.”

He looked as if he was biting back a remark, but thankfully reined it in. “Look, I would have gladly let you wither away in self-pity, but I came here today because of something important.”

Your eyes stilled on his face. “Has he reached out to you?” you asked, feeling incredibly foolish for the hope in your voice.

The sad turn of his mouth was enough of an answer. “I did try, ____. I hope you know that.”

A moment of silence. “I do.” You cleared your throat, hoping a lump won’t form and break your tone. “What was the important thing?”

“Oh, yes.” He sat himself down, glancing at the half-dozen empty wine bottles on your desk. “Right, so I know with everything going on, this is not the best time, but…”

He reached down to his satchel, opening the latch and fishing a collection of papers from the inside. “I got the script for the Seungcheol production.”

That immediately darkened your spirits. “I don’t feel like doing an audition at the moment.”

“Last time I remembered, you were a failing actress. Doing auditions should be your only concern.”

You hated how much that stung you. “I’m afraid I cannot be enthusiastic enough for you,” you snarled, sitting in the opposite chair. “Should I…oh, I don’t know, pretend I didn’t make the worst decision of my life and carry on as if nothing has happened?”

Seungkwan frowned. “_____, you know I am here for you, right? I understand that this fight with Jeonghan…I get it.” He sighed, bringing the papers on the table. “But I cannot see you wasting yourself away. You may not give a single shit about yourself, but there are others who do.”

A glance towards him. He was looking at you with a serious earnestness. “Look, this audition…it’s very important. I’ve already told you about the logistics, but should you get it…it could turn your life back around.”

You knew that—of course you were aware of the rewards of starring in Seungcheol’s films. Many young actors flocked to his auditions in hopes for a part, regardless of how important their presence might be in the movie. It was why Jeonghan shot to stardom, months after you ended your relationship. 

It was why you slumped further in your seat, hugging yourself tightly. “I don’t know…I feel like they won’t accept me.”

The man could see right through you. “If you’re worried about what’s being said in the papers, forget about it.” A roll of eyes. “Seungcheol is a moody, tight bastard, I can’t lie…but one thing I can say for certain. He is incredibly fair.”

He patted the documents. “If you truly impress him, he won’t care about the press. He will give you the part.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, still a little unsure. 

“So?” 

Seungkwan stood up, sliding his hands in his pockets. “What do you say?”

You stared at him, shuffling from side to side. 

You wanted to say no.

Outright refuse, and continue your indefinite journey to a slow, agonising death. What was the point in doing an audition that high-profile anyway? With A-list names involved, you doubted that the producers would take you on, considering your crippled reputation. 

But deep down, you knew you could not live like this forever. 

Observing your hotel room, the mess you resided in, you had an inclination that your funds were running dry. You did not realise the strain your agent was in, the hours he must have invested in trying to change your situation around. Admittedly, you had spent such a substantial amount of time being around, thinking about, crying over your ex-lover that you had forgotten why you were truly in Paris. 

If you could not act for your own sake, then you had to trudge on for Seungkwan’s—the poor man was already certain you planned a theatrical show of murdering yourself in the name of woe.

Your stare was unshaken as you pinned it on the papers.

Undoubtedly the lines for the role.

“I’ll do it.”

LE FRANCE-SOIR, 2ND DECEMBER, 1954

YOON JEONGHAN ABSENT FROM LAST NIGHT’S BIG PREMIERE!

Two-time Academy winning actor, heart-throb and biggest star to date Yoon Jeonghan has brought us yet another shocker since his sighting with his scandalous past-amour, _____. As his upcoming movie premiered spectacularly in the central city, spectators were greatly disappointed to find that the main attraction was not there to greet them with his signature, enigmatic smiles. When asked why his fellow co-star is absent, Vernon Chwe talked of a sudden illness, and asked his fans to send him well-wishes. 

We wonder, just like our readers, whether this illness is a true, unfortunate circumstance for our poor star, or whether it is a coverup to continue his shocking meetings with his ex. Not to worry, everyone, because we will find out soon enough!

YOU WERE SURPRISED THAT YOU HAD NOT THROWN UP ON THE WAY TO YOUR DESTINATION.

Palais Garnier was not as far as you had imagined—only a ten minute walk, but because of recent events, you decided to take a cab there. It was already frightful enough that journalists camped out at the Ritz, waiting for you to come out at any point in the day. Fortunately for you, the auditions were being done hours before dawn, so most of the city was already asleep—even the people with cameras that pestered you to no end. 

It did seem bizarre to hold the calls at such late an hour, but Seungkwan had warned you of the infamous director’s customs. The late hours did not bother you, though, when you had become accustomed to staying awake when the sun was long gone.

Even with the security of a car, you covered yourself from head to toe—your face was half-masked, hair wrapped in a scarf. Your collared shirt shrouded you to your wrists, black trousers donned as your skirts had become too troublesome. Anxious in your minutes-long ride to the destination, you clutched the papers, reading your lines over and over. It was not too useful at this point, when you had memorised not only yours, but of the love interest as well, but repeating the dialogues in your mind was the only action that stopped you from losing your mind. 

When the driver stopped before the grand building, you paid your fare, getting out of the vehicle. No one recognised your mysterious figure, so you allowed yourself to look at where specifically the auditions were being held. The Palais Garnier was a truly spectacular sight—the classical opera house towered over you, every inch akin to a palace as the off-white columns sat atop thinner, circular columns. The European masters of the art and music had their figures sculpted in between the first floor, minor gods of instruments and melodies at eye-level with you. Gold statues of Harmony and Poetry, accompanied by Pegasus, watching over your tiny figure in comparison to their hind, glorious bodies, high above atop the roof. The light teal dome settled in the middle, Apollo settled at the top of the point, holding out his golden lyre, stone-cold eyes watching over your nervous steps.

You had half a mind to cower away, but you reminded yourself that they were just statues—lifeless, unjudging. What resided inside was much worse.

Cursing low, you entered the opera house. 

The interior was just as magical as the outside, you navigating the intricate, red-velveted halls. You were aware that the auditions were being carried out in the grand auditorium—again, courtesy of your obsession with Parisian landmarks, you had been inside the opera house before. 

The only difference was that you had never been here alone.

You supposed that you should become used to the absence. 

Once you found the grand doors of the auditorium, you opened one, taking in the scene. The huge, singular chandelier lit the vast theatre, golden bordered stalls looking over the couple dozen crew, walking and rushing in and out backstage, few seated in the plush red chairs. The most important people, however, stood before the stage, watching the very performances that you were expecting to do. A sole actress atop the stage read out the lines that you had ingrained in your mind, you spying a few others behind the curtains, anxiously waiting their turn. 

Trying to control your breathing, you began the descent downstairs, passing each lush row of seats, the producers, casting directors, and the big man himself closer and closer. Once you were three rows from the crew, you heard a harsh voice radiating throughout the room. 

“Oh, for goodness sake! Can we wrap this up already?!” 

You suppressed your shudder—the aspiring actress atop the stage, however, could not, flinching at the order. 

The scoff that left the man’s lips would have made you cry many years ago. “Jesus…sweetheart, do us all a favour, and stop wasting our time. Next!” 

The poor auditioner, with crushed hopes, trudged backstage, you catching the tears lining her eyes. You could not restrain a soft gasp.

That had the man turning back.

Oh, God.

Choi Seungcheol’s eyebrows raised to his hairline.

“My, my,” he drawled, sliding his hands to his hips, blazer rising to show his shirt, suspenders attached to his trousers. “What do we have here?”

Dear Lord and His Seven Heavens—if He truly existed, He would spare you this torture, and take away your life this instant. 

You cleared your throat, matching his stare. “I’m here for the casting call.”

The director snickered at your response. “So Seungkwan wasn’t bullshitting at all,” he began, bringing out a cigar from his coat pockets, sparking it to life with his lighter. “What spurred you to take acting seriously again after your spectacular fuck-ups in LA?”

Straight to the point. “I read the parts of the script, and wanted to be involved,” you said simply. It was the truth—it was a perfect project—or perfect, from what you could gather from the limited information.

“Ah…about that.” Seungcheol took a long drag of his cigar. “I’ve decided that the next people auditioning will read something else.”

Your mouth could have dropped to the floor. “What?”

“You see, I have watched about a hundred girls drone out these perfect dialogues.” He puffed out the smoke, almost ambushing your face. “And they were all so god-awful that I now hate the scene altogether.” Snapping his fingers, a running boy brought him a new set of papers. “The rest will read from this. Including you.”

You gaped at the new script. “I haven’t prepared at all for this.”

Seungcheol narrowed his eyes on you. “You have a couple of hours to remember the lines. If you cannot complete such a simple task, then I have no need for you on my set.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, you took the papers from him, scanning the lines. The iron director pointed backstage. “You can look at the lines from over there.”

You tried your best not to snap at him. Offering a tight-lipped smile, you followed the direction of his finger, going up the stairs and into the backstage area, where the rest of the aspiring actresses were situated. Each and every one of them looked as if they had received news of a personal death, with the way they paced back and forth, tears in their eyes as they read the scripts. You could not help eavesdropping, and sure enough, Seungcheol’s new decision had everyone a million times more nervous than usual.

You did not miss the last-minute changes in auditions.

Sighing, you found a spot, away from the rush of the actors, settling upon a chair next to the dozen others stacked. With a turn of the front, you decided to look at the page numbers. Hmm…page 90, 91…this meant that the scene was near the end of the movie. The scene you had practised to perfection was in the middle—the character was having an argument with her parents about seeking opportunities, and ended with them offering her one chance to discover herself outside of their abode. 

When you began to read this script, though, your blood curdled beneath your skin.

Your eyes could not stray from the words that were typed onto the paper, your fingers roughly swiping each page, disbelief growing with each dialogue that passed. You were cursing inwardly, sometimes slipping past your lips, and when you were done reading you could not help laughing uncontrollably at your luck. 

This was either the best performance you would ever carry out, or this audition would be the end of your career. 

So, with the two hours you were provided, you endeavoured to engage with the script, reading the lines you were supposed to act out over and over in your head. You tried to forget the previous script, erase it from your mind to create space for this dire piece of work, and you were mostly successful, remembering the new script’s most important bits. You scanned the scene repeatedly, saying the dialogues out loud to taste them with your tongue, trying to enact the emotion that Seungcheol had intended for his characters. 

The hours that you were offered seem to slip by much too quickly, and the director’s barking at the auditioners did not help your nerves, which were threatening to ruin your efforts. You made to steel yourself—this was not the time for panic. Do your audition, and go insane afterwards.

With the last of the actresses done, your name was called out. You got up from your chair, legs turning to jelly under you, and you made to walk out onto the stage, the huge, white tungsten lamps making your eyes water from the sheer flash. 

The director’s voice boomed beyond the stage, his face scrutinising you beneath the lights. “Last, and possibly the least!” he exclaimed, the same papers in hand which you held. When he saw you gritting your teeth, he only snickered, puffing out smoke from his cigar. “God, do scandals make you lose your sense of humour?”

“Just get the dialogue rolling,” you quipped, earning a hearty laugh from him. If you did not get this role, you will make sure to make this man’s life a living hell.

As if you have not done that for every man in your life—especially for the man that mattered.

“Right! Let me reiterate the details.” Seungcheol read out from a summary, not in your script. “The scene starts with your character, Ilsa, ending up at Richard’s door, and is going to make amends. Richard is tired of his ex’s excuses, and well…the argument is going to cement the end of their love story.” He held up his script. “I will read from Richard’s lines, and you read yours. Got it?”

When you nodded, he gave you a minute to look over the starting lines one last time. You instead dropped the papers to the floor. You closed your eyes, breathing in, breathing out, clearing your head. 

The man in your dreams was still there, greeting you with his signature smile.

You wished he was there before you. 

You imagined he would be at the far end of the theatre, seated beside the entryway stairs. He would wear his burgundy jacket, slip a beret upon his black locks, and he would watch you without saying a single word, merely admire you from the back of the room. It would have made you nervous once, but you would give anything to see him in front of you now—be it at the far end of a theatre. 

“You ready?” 

No, you said to the man in your mind.

“Yes,” you said to the man in front. 

The director called for lights, shifting slightly before focusing on you. 

“I’ll be starting in three, two, one…”

You opened your eyes.

There. 

There he was, exactly how you imagined him. His phantom gaze watched you, unsettled on the stage, and he crossed his arms, beret-ed head cocking slightly. The burgundy coat that he adorned nearly covered his face, but you could recognise him anywhere. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I…” you began, trying to find the words, even though you had them memorised. “I had to come back.” 

“To what? What do we have anymore to come back to?” 

Had you not been in a daze, you would have despised the monotone in Seungcheol’s delivery. He was doing it on purpose, you knew—throw the actor off.

You, however, did not need to be thrown off. 

“You’re being hasty with me, Richard,” you reasoned, eyes rooted to the back of the theatre. “You haven’t even given me the chance to speak—”

“I have given you every opportunity…or have you forgotten the last time we spoke?” A pause, meant to be a scoff—the man you stared at scoffed for the director, which went unnoticed. “Well, we didn’t speak much…not with all the shouting.”

Your hand went to your chest. “And I will take the blame if you wish so.” 

“Why thank you for your unending, sacrificial kindness.”

It was almost as if you could hear his voice instead—the very prospect made you shiver at the response. 

“Is that not what you want?” you then asked. 

“God, you still don’t get it, do you?” another baritone demanded, and it was hard, deciphering who spoke from the script, and who spoke from the heart. “It’s not about what I want, it’s about what’s right.”

“Of course you say something like that,” you sneered. “I’m only trying to make you happy.”

“Happy?” The hazy figure on the back seats shifted, almost in agitation. “Why do you care about my happiness now?”

“I’ve never not cared, Jeo—” you stopped, eyes widening. You tried to evade, “Just, just…I was so caught up with everything, and—”

“And forgot about me?”

The dialogue began to hurt—these words, residing within the script, began to tear at the seams of your soul. “I could never forget about you,” you murmured. “Even if I tried.”

There was a pause. Seungcheol, watching you stare at a specific point in the distance, turned around, seeing only the empty seats at the back. He continued the recitation, brows raised in surprise at your performance. “You were successful this time.”

“Don’t say that!” you exclaimed, taking a step forward, raising your hand out to him—you were only met with air. “Please, you have to believe me, this will be the last time—”

“How can I believe you?!” The seated illusion almost jumped from his chair. “Your words are not even a month old and suddenly you want to change them? What do you take me for?!”

“I know, I know, but I was angry, scared about what was happening!”

“So you decide to take it out on me?! And you expect me to then take it?!”

“No, no!” You began to pace back and forth, shaking your head. What was the love interest’s name, shit, if not Jeonghan, then—”My love!” you then tried, the name of the character lost to your lips. “I admit that I made a mistake. I know that I screwed it all up, and that I do not deserve you…I know that.”

You turned your head towards him again. “But I’m here now. I have let everything else go…my work, my colleagues that talked about me, still talk about me…my family who did not think you were good enough…I have left them all.”

Without quite realising, the words that slipped from your tongue began to stray from your dialogue. “I had many great things that held me back. But for you…only for you, I have come back. I am here.”

There was another beat in the script, and you watched as the actor watched you, his beautiful, haunted mouth parting. 

It was as if Jeonghan himself whispered what came next. 

“And what divine revelation brought you to me now?”

Your gaze did not go down on the man that recited the line. For all you could see, the vision you had created mouthed that question. The glimmer in his hazy eyes, waiting for you to answer him.

What divine revelation brought you to me now?

For the first time in your life, you were certain of a difficult question.

There were no revelations—no grand epiphanies, no extravagant fireworks the moment you cracked your dilemma concerning him.

No, perhaps it was the underlying truth. A fact as ancient as your relation with him, as long as the distance between the ground and the tip of the Eiffel Tower. A precious piece of evidence, always rumoured by the thousands of papers that wrote of you and him. This information, that had preyed on your mind for as long as you had known him, something that had scared you.

The truth, which had never left the crevices of your heart, even when you broke his heart five years ago, 

The script was forgotten—your heart, instead, spoke its lines. 

“I love you.”

Murmurs spread beyond the stage. 

The dream-like figure that you confessed to shifted. 

Seungcheol held his hand up to his colleagues, requesting quiet. His stare on you was inquisitive, calculating. 

“You love me?” The question was cautious—a chance to let you play out your improv. You, however, did not realise the director’s mindset. You were too lost in your own pandemonium to notice your change of script. 

“I love you,” you repeated, more desperate this time, because Yoon Jeonghan had to know. The Yoon Jeonghan, real or not real before you, had to be aware, or else all would be lost. “I never stopped, I-I don’t think I ever will stop, because I can’t love anyone else—” you halted, your throat lumping, stopping your string of speech. 

Trying to contain yourself, you cast one last stare at the man you had conjured up—who, too, was unable to tear his gaze from you—perhaps because you would not let him.

You pleaded as if it was Judgement Day. 

“Please understand. I love you.”

You snapped your eyes shut, a tear escaping as it trailed down your cheek. 

There it was—the confession that you had harboured for too long.

Your breathing was the only thing prevalent in the huge theatre, all eyes upon your crumbling figure, the legs which had not failed you before threatening to do so that very moment. But you refused to give up, not when you needed to hear his answer. 

“Maybe in the past, my dear, that would have been enough.”

Seungcheol’s final line had your heart stopping.

“Not anymore…not for me.”

Your eyes fluttered open.

The actor you had dreamt up had vanished. 

“And scene!”

Your frantic gaze darted to the director, who swiped the last page, cherry lips curling upward. “And then he closes the door on her, but we don’t need to see you act that out.” He set the script upon the table he leaned against, crossing his arms. “I must say, _____, for someone who’s been too busy ruining her career, you sure have the talent to salvage—”

“Was there someone at the back?” You pointed to the seats, precisely where your ex-lover had been—or at least you thought.

“No…you were the last person to audition with us.” He raised a brow. “I was wondering why you were looking so intently at the empty chairs, and not the man you were supposed to read your lines with.”

But you were not particularly listening to him, because you had poured out your heart only for it to fall on deaf ears. You looked to the grand doors of the exit, mind sprinting ideas, rushed plans on what to do next, what to do with these feelings—

“Now, I am certain you are aware of the procedure, but I’ll contact Seungkwan about your audition, as well as your performance this morning,” he continued, snapping his fingers to have his assistant immediately carry out the task. “Based on me not shouting you to tears, you can guess that—”

“I need to go,” you cut the greatest director in Hollywood off, your frenzied sight catching the stairs. “Thank you, um, for—” you cursed, shaking your head, trying to say something that did not revolve around him—“Seungkwan will reach out, I’ll be sure of it.” 

The man watched your behaviour, visibly shocked. “Do you understand what I am proposing right now?” 

Your rushed steps flew past him, looking at him over the shoulder. “Perfectly, so perfectly, but…”

You could not contain your smile. “I need to tend to a more important matter.”

And you left him there, aghast as you glided up the grand stairs of the theatre. You heard him mumble complaints against you, cursing the ‘young actors and their recklessness’, but this time, you could only laugh, because maybe he was right, maybe you were being reckless and wild and stupid, but you did not care.

For once in your life, you did not care.

It only took a few minutes to navigate the exit of the opera house, the light at the end of the grand tunnel glowing brighter and brighter. Bursting out of the Palais, you hissed when you saw the sun out in full swing, glaring down at you with great offence—almost as if it knew that you blamed its enlightening rays for the separation between you and Jeonghan, and reminded you of who was truly at fault.

You admitted your wrongdoings—you admitted them wholeheartedly, and now you must make amends.

Scanning the road before you, you realised there were no cabs nearby. Fuck, you instantly thought, breaking into a hurried walk as you scoured your surroundings, any car for hire that might turn up. 

At this point, the morning population was gathering. Because you were the unluckiest woman in the world, anyone who looked in your direction a little too closely recognised you at once.

“Oh my God, is that—”

“What is _____ doing around here?”

At one point, you would have died hearing their comments, but you had greater concerns in your mind—those concerns first began with how to get to your destination.

That was when a large, box-like bus rushed past you, slowing to rest beside the Palais Garnier stop.

Your eyes squinted at the back for its details.

041095 — GARE DE L’EST. 

By God. Jeonghan’s apartment was on the way to the East Station.

You did not know whether this was a blessing or a curse.

“Here goes,” you murmured.

After garnering every atom of strength you could find in your body, you devoured it in one moment as you burst into a sprint.

Gasps were heard around you as you ran towards the bus,which was accepting the last of the passengers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” you kept cursing out, your feet beginning to hurt by the sheer force of your flight. 

You were already aware that you were a failing actress—you did not need to be a failing athlete along with it.

With pure horror you watched as the last couple entered the bus, gathering at the open deck of its back. There were people within that open deck looking at you in shock, certain that you would not reach the standing area in time.

But you were on a mission to prove people wrong. After all this time, you were not going to let them win—even if it may be over something as menial as running for the bus.

As soon as the carriage began to move, you reached your hand out, fingers aching to touch the railing.

Just before it could drive away into the city, you grabbed onto the pole. 

With a groan you hoisted yourself upon the deck, stumbling across the fragile floors. The onlookers stepped away from you as you gathered yourself, gulping down a world’s worth of oxygen. You held onto the railings, fearing that if you let go you would be ripped away from the bus, although it was an irrational thought.

The surprised looks were still upon you.

You tilted your head up at one of them. “Quoi?” you demanded. “What?”

Instantly, the rest seemed to avert their gazes, finding the scenery of central Paris much more alluring than a walking Hollywood scandal.

At least they were not going to bother you now.

You were thankful to be at the back, avoiding the calls for showing tickets in the interior of the bus. Your hands gripped the poles, attached to the extended roof as you passed the Champs-Élysées, each stop making you more restless. If his apartment was not an hour away on foot, then you would have ran there yourself. 

Soon enough, you oversaw the distant view of the Eiffel Tower, watching your journey over the Seine. You were close—you remembered that Jeonghan lived across the great river, just so he could catch a glimpse of the famed landmark from his apartment balcony.

Once the bus stopped outside the Passy underground, you quickly stepped off the deck, eyes darting to the signs that directed you to the nearby park. You followed it blindly, the route to the destination coming together, like lost pieces of an old puzzle, finally being solved. You had become restless, almost savage in your trail to find him; the more civilians that recognised you, the more shocked they were at your appearance, wondering out loud at how someone like you could run around Paris in such a manner.

You were laughing at them all. You did not care.

Finding the residential park, you sprinted through the orderly trees, catching the giggles of children in your ears as your eyes spotted the apartment building, right in front of you. So close, you were so fucking close—

Exiting the confines of the garden, you burst through the apartment complex. It was simple, almost rundown, a shocking residential for someone who had tasted the luxury of seven-star hotels. The once painted walls were crackling on your present floor, distant arguments in French muffled beyond the doors. 

You knew instantly that this was not the floor.

Taking the stairs beside you, you immediately took two in one heap, almost flying to the top till you reached the second floor. However, you remember distinctly how much you used to complain whenever you would come here, how you would tire of this horrid journey, and you knew that the second floor had arrived too quickly.

A part of you resented the beautiful asshole for renting a place so high-up the complex.

After what felt like a million flights of stairs later, you reached the top floor, your clothes sticking to your skin, sweating through the fabric. Your tired gaze fell on the multiple identical doors, trying to recall which one had your ex-lover behind them. 

Your hands settled on the back of your hips, closing your eyes. Think, think! you tried to remember, the reminiscences of his living room, the walls decked with paintings and memorabilia, the bedroom where he ended and you began.

Ten minutes in, pacing back and forth the hallway, ready to collapse on the floor. 

That was when you heard the distant music.

“That’s why…darling…it’s incredible…”

More importantly, the distant voice.

“That someone…so unforgettable…” 

The voice was not of the original singer—no, it was a voice that had stayed with you forever, a voice that sounded much more melancholy than the song let on.

“Thought that I was…unforgettable…too…”

You parted your mouth.

You knew exactly which door the sweet song came from.

Your feet dashed towards the distant humming, right at the end of the long hallway. The door on the far right was the one, and your hand could not fly up quickly enough.

The knocks on the door could have had the entire complex shaking in its foundations.

“Jeonghan!” 

The song softened to an end. 

The other side of the door was silenced.

“Jeonghan!” you tried again, fists rocking on the wood. “Please open the door! I need to speak to you!”

As you shouted, pleaded, your ears picked up soft footsteps from the other side. You latched onto this. “I can hear you from there, please! Please Jeonghan, just hear me out!”

You waited anxiously, as if you were in hospital expecting tragic news, or a convict awaiting sentence. He may have been silent now, because you could hear a single shuffle on the opposite end. 

Of course he did not want to speak to you. 

And although he had every right to be silent, you knew that your right to be a bystander had long disappeared. So you began, in hopes he had not secluded further into his apartment.

“Look, I know what I said last time we had spoken—well, argued, really, I know that I said some horrible things, and it’s selfish of me to even bring it up again, but…they have haunted me ever since I made the mistake of hurting you that day.”

You were not quite sure of the exact words, but you had to have faith in your feelings. “I was cruel to you that day, Jeonghan. I said things to purposefully harm you, and expected you to be fine with me the very next day. I became scared, you know, when the press exposed us, because all I was doing was thinking about myself.” Your scoff cut off your speech. “I realise I do that a lot…think only of myself.

“And I know this is no excuse, but I had been abandoned so many times that I had to prioritise myself for so long. I was not used to your selflessness, your unending kindness…perhaps because I did not deserve it, but you offered it to me, and I happily took it.”

A hard sigh. “Truth is, it’s me who has not moved on.”

Something shifted on the other side. 

“You were right. I destroyed this relationship five years ago, and the worst thing is, I did it for the people who did not care for me. For my career, my fans…my fame.” 

“I thought I was fine…I thought, well, all this bitterness, this frustration I have felt for so long in my life…I thought this entire time that it was because I lost my glory.” Your head shook slightly. “But I was wrong. My life took a turn for the worse the moment I lost you.” 

You paused, hoping he would have something to say.

Nothing.

“You may be thinking why I have had this sudden revelation, considering it has arrived so late, but I think the night I saw you at the Louvre…you know, with those sculptures and that talk about love and loss…something came alive in me that day. Even when you were in my room, when we were drinking too much, my confession was still honest. I did miss you…fuck, I do miss you, a-and it only made everything so much more difficult.”

Still not a word.

Spirits slowly sinking, you leaned your forehead against the door, closing your eyes. “I have been a coward, though, this entire time. My fear of the press overshadowed my feelings, and in turn I hurt you in false hope to save myself…for the second time, I have hurt you, and I don’t even know how I can ever make it up to you…but I can say this.”

This time, with both hands flat beside you, you pressed your forehead against the door.

“I’m sorry.”

A pause. 

“I’m sorry for everything I have done. ‘I’m sorry for five years ago, and for these past few weeks. I’m sorry for toying with your feelings, Jeonghan, even though you were so dear to me, and I’m sorry for allowing my securities to reign over your affections.”

You closed your eyes. 

“Please forgive me.”

You stopped yourself, lest the lump in your throat robbed you of your voice. If Jeonghan was still listening, he would realise the waver in your speech. You could not cry at him—that would not be fair.

You did not know how long you stood there, almost sagged against the creaking wood, praying to every entity imaginable to hear a single reply of your confessions. As more time passed, the more you revisited your words, taking them apart, finding faults in them. You became half-mad that you should not have said anything at all, and made the greatest mistake of your life in running back to him.

But what else could you have done? Continued in your self-destructive, self-sabotaging ways till they cemented an early demise? How could you have lived with yourself, knowing that you let the great love of your life slip through your sin-stained fingers, and survived? Even now, you were anxious beyond repair, waiting hopelessly for an answer that might not arrive, but you knew as well as anyone that if you had simply gone back to the hotel after your audition, then everything you had ever lived for would amount to nothing.

And so, you waited.

And waited.

And waited.

You were almost unable to withhold your tears when you heard the door creaking—as if a presence straightened themselves from the other side.

Then, the hesitant unlocking of the knob. 

Your instincts bid you step away as the door opened, and you could not restrain the haggard sigh that escaped you as you set your sight upon him.

Jeonghan looked every bit as frenzied as you were.

The mystical elegance that he exuded so naturally had almost disappeared when you caught the ghostly hue of his skin, the slight bags under his eyes. Even his mouth lost a little colour, his hair in a wild, unruly frizz. It was frightening, seeing him look so different to how he always presented himself.

Another consequence of your actions.

You could barely get his name out of your lips.

“J-Jeonghan…”

He was staring and staring, not quite believing what he was seeing—nor what he heard.

I’m sorry.

He had never heard an apology from you. 

In his entire time of knowing you, admiring you, loving you, mourning you, his ears were never graced with apologies or requests of forgiveness from you. Perhaps because you were not used to someone confronting your behaviour—or simply because of your own, unintentional arrogance—but you had never been forced to recognise your behaviour, and so had grown immune to the morally ambiguous actions of your past. 

So to hear you utter the words…he thought at first that you were not there in front of him, near tears in your eyes, admitting to what you had done to him.

“What caused this?”

He had to ask you the origins of such a declaration.

“Why are you here now?”

You could have shuddered—how similar he sounded to the words on the script you had just memorised.

You told him yourself, albeit with caution. “I…I was auditioning, actually…you know, the Seungcheol movie I talked about before…” Before the press—the fight. Before the separation. “There was a scene and…I was screaming, begging for the man to come back, but he strayed, despite my best efforts…”

The actor’s voice turned harsh. “So I reminded you of a scene? A story of fiction, a fantasy?”

“No!” you began, almost reaching out to hold his hand, but you stopped yourself—you did not have the right. “No, Jeonghan, it was so similar, I just…I saw you in the theatre as I said my lines! I saw you, heard your voice recite the responses. I thought I was going mad, and then I did when I stopped following the script, and confessed to you!” The memory made you a little sheepish. “Then I realised you were not there, and so here I am…”

But he was turning on his heel, walking back into the room as he shook his head. “Wait, Jeonghan!” you exclaimed, following after him, not realising your surroundings, the nostalgia of entering the private sphere of the most public man in the world. “Wait, it wasn’t a fantasy!” He was walking further, into another room. “Damn it, I left the audition before Seungcheol could even provide any feedback!” 

He looked back. “You did what?”

“I ran away from the theatre before anyone could say anything! I swear to you, I ran after a bus to the station, a bus that led me here.” You were frantic again, desperate. “I am sure I have fucked up this audition, the entire city saw me running to you, but I don’t care anymore. I don’t care if Seungcheol spreads the word of my terrible improv, I will laugh when the press writes about my crazy episode of coming here…” Anxiously, you kept shaking your head, trying to steady your voice. “I don’t care anymore, Jeonghan. Not about them…”

The film noir star could only take in the confession, more shocking than everything you had said before. 

You left the sanctuary of your privacy for him.

You had abandoned possibly the only chance for a revival of your fame to seek him out.

You, who would have rather died than show yourself to the public in these dark times, had faced its scrutiny for him.

He did not know whether to fall to his knees or laugh in disbelief. 

“I know you’re shocked,” you murmured, hugging yourself tightly. “You have every right to be, especially that I’m dumping this on you all of a sudden…but, it’s for you. I did it all for you.”

Falling silent, you watched the anarchy on his haunted features, his head dipping, curls falling along his movements. It was within this tensioned quiet that you finally allowed yourself to scour your environment; Jeonghan’s apartment remained the same as you had last seen it—you did not realise you had followed him into his bedroom, a myriad of dark blues, greys and blacks coating the walls, carpeting the floor, the only light being the lamplights, brighter with the setting of the sun. 

Upon the large, night-cloaked bed, was a newspaper stark against the black sheets. As you read the France-Soir headline, you heard him speak.

“Did you think I wanted to hide away too?”

Your eyes stayed on the newspaper. 

“Ignore your calls, wave Seungkwan off when he mentioned you, watch you suffer? Do you think I wanted it to come to this?”

You allowed yourself a quick glance at him. He continued, “I’m sure you’ve read about the absence by now. You know me well enough to know that I never miss a single press tour, let alone the premiere.”

“Then why did you not go?”

His stare upon you was grave. “I was not the only one suffering in this separation.”

Oh.

Right.

Quickly you averted your eyes from the dreaded papers, instead focusing on the memorabilia surrounding his private sphere. The walls were plastered with posters of various movies, his promotional shots, as well the fan letters many had sent him in his career. Another board beside his bed was littered with a hundred photos, memories of his friends, his co-stars, and his family. 

“I don’t want to hurt like that…like this anymore. The years when we were apart…” he could not even finish his musings, turning away to put his hand on the study. 

You could not say another word, hoping he would keep speaking—because if he stopped speaking, then there was nothing left between you and him.

And that was too terrifying a thought.

“I missed the premiere, _____, because for the first time in my life, I could not face the public.” 

Jeonghan forced down the nerves bubbling in his throat. “What you said that day…although I had heard it before, all that time ago, I still did not know how to handle myself. Funny, is it not, that I was able to survive the cruelty of the media five years back, but one fight with you, and I completely broke down…”

Once again, you felt his words knife your soul. “I…” He licked his lips, so at loss with himself. “I don’t want to relive those moments again…I can’t relive it.”

You were such a coward, unable to look at the anguish in his face. You kept staring at the wall of memories, scouring the faces the actor held dear enough to keep them in his room forever. 

It was in that particular moment, when he closed his eyes, that your own found something extraordinary.

“Oh my God.”

The actor looked up. 

With a hesitance in his step, he walked over to where you were rooted to the ground, gawking at a specific picture.

When his line of sight found the photo, he too, widened his eyes.

Before you, right in the middle of Jeonghan’s pictured-memories, was a photograph of you.

It was you, face glowing with awe as you admired your favourite sculpture, cut away from the picture’s borders. You knew precisely when this moment was captured—your first ever Paris trip, taken mere weeks after beginning your romance with the man in this room. You had chastised him for taking the picture, demanding he rip it from his camera, but he had teased you so relentlessly for your innocent admiration, that he vowed never to destroy it.

Your question from the exhibition, at least, had been answered. 

This was enough to make your vision blurry again.

You were so caught up in the picture that when he spoke again, you almost jumped. 

“Why are you surprised to see it there?”

Blinking back the tears, you tried to voice your shock. “I can’t…I can’t believe you didn’t throw it away.”

He kept looking at the photograph. “I keep my promises, _____.”

This time, you glanced at him.“Sometimes I pretend that we are back in the Louvre,” he said, a ghost of a smile creeping onto his mouth, the more he inspected the photo. “Seeing Psyche and Cupid for the first time…back when we didn’t care about anything. Back when things like the press or the public didn’t stop us.”

You damned the cowardice. “It can be like that again.”

He faced you. “Could it?” His eyes were laced with uncertainty. “Last time I remembered, you were ready to give everything up for the public.”

“I know…I know what I said, and believe me when I say I regret it.”

You willed your hands at your sides, setting your gaze at the man who was losing faith. “Jeonghan, when I was running away from the audition, seeing everyone’s shock and judgement as I rushed to you, I did not feel anxious. Honestly, I was relieved. I did not care, because all I was anxious for was seeing you, and begging for your forgiveness.

“I thought I could sacrifice everything to have my popularity back…yes, the first weeks in Paris were not perfect…day and night I ached for the affections of the press, the people, but…” You recalled the fated nights. “By some fortune, you came back into my life.”

A small step forward—an effort to close the imminent distance between you both—a distance you had created. “You said before, didn’t you? That you had lost me once, and could not lose me again?” 

This time, you could not control the waver in your voice. “It was never you who lost me…it was I who was foolish enough to lose you. I spent so long listening to the people who did not know me, that I forgot about the man who knows me more than I know myself.”

He was shell-shocked, unable to stop, and did not want to stop your shaking hands, which raised to hold his face. 

“I am done living by the opinions of others. I love you, and I will always be sorry for never showing it enough…never again will I make the same mistake.”

Only when you quietened, bearing your heart to him, that you finally noticed his ragged breathing, the hard rise and fall of his chest—the tears that spilled from his stunned eyes. He could hardly speak, perfect brows knitting, a million thoughts running through his head in the seconds that he stared. 

You watched the anarchy on his face, anticipating the worst. 

“Jeonghan?”

His name upon your lips was the last straw. 

The greatest film star in the world grabbed your waist with both hands and pulled you in. 

The kiss that welcomed you freed you of every worry you had ever harboured.

You almost moaned in relief, instantly wrapping yourself around him as you reciprocated. Your mouth moved along with his, an age-old rhythm that you had mastered only with him, because he was the only one who could render you putty in his hold. You could taste the salt of his tears, which had travelled down to his mouth, and your fingers upon his cheeks tightened—tightening because you were the reason for these tears, and never again would you let this dear man weep silently over you. 

Jeonghan’s desperation, in the way he tugged your hips so close that it snuffed out the remaining distance, tied to his own hips, was much too obvious. You had never even realised how much he had waited for you, yearned for you as the entire world watched his every movement.

He had never tasted chaos as bitter as when he was apart from you. 

You broke his heart that day in your hotel room—he knew, deep down, that you were regressing into your ancient fears, but that time, he did not think he could wait for you again. Five long, hard, aching years, he could only watch you from a distance, lest the papers tear you apart as they did him. Five years he witnessed firsthand your steady destruction, the alliances turning against your image as you ruined yourself to the industry; all that time, he stood and did nothing, because he knew that you had sealed your fate the moment you abided by the rules of Hollywood.

But he was lying if he said he had not languished over you. 

When he found you in the dark hallways of the Louvre, looking for Psyche and Cupid reuniting all those weeks ago, he first believed himself following a whimsical script, written by the subconscious, aching wisps of his heart. He could not help indulging in you, wanting you so desperately it was as if he had never aged in your separation. He could not even expose how many times he had relived the first stages of your relationship—how many times he had captured the same photo you had stared mere minutes ago. 

So when you came knocking on your door as if your life depended on it, admitting to your mistakes…how could he not accept—no, delight in your changed behaviour? Of course, nothing could have described his devastation in the past weeks, but your promises to him was all he wished for—all he ever needed in his life. 

So as Jeonghan pushed you back, drinking the desire that spilled from your mouth, clumsy in his steps, he needed you to realise that he would never leave—even if you hurt him a thousand times over. 

Your back hit the wall, the impact breaking away from his mouth—your momentary gasps gave him enough incentive to latch onto your neck, his s every soft kiss planted making you whimper. Perhaps any other rendezvous would have been so much more hectic—full of rage and excitement, but this was so different. What used to be broken curses on heated skin, promises of ruination had become soft murmurs, half-voiced questions of going further, prayers of thanks to whatever you two believed in which brought the two of you back together. 

Slowly, with every love bite softly carved by his teeth, his hands were also working slyly, sliding to the buttons of your black trousers. Your own hands sought refuge in his curls, the frenzied frizz of his black locks which felt like home underneath your fingers. Only when he successfully unbuttoned the front, feeling his mouth leave your neck and make a trail down your chest did you falter. Dipping your head to see him kiss your clothed abdomen, he descended on his knees, facing the unbuttoned glory of the trousers. 

Fingers hooking to the waistband, he tugged your trousers down, all the way to your ankles where you shed them from your feet, legs now bare before him. His changing expression had you gulping down at his image.

With trembling fingers he skimmed your skin till they found the waistband on your sides. Slowly, too slowly for you, he tugged them down, savouring the sight till your cunt was on show, and you could have been snuffed out from the look in his eyes as they sparked to life. 

You had almost forgotten how extraordinary he looked in this position. 

His curls barely touched your thighs, shifting closer as he blew a gush of air towards your core, relishing the shiver that he felt through your body. 

“Jeonghan…” You were so on edge, holding the wall. “What are you stalling for?”

His words fanned your cunt—fluttering you alive. “You said…did you not? That you had been selfish?” 

His head tilted upwards, catching your daze. “Is it not my turn to indulge?” 

You could have collapsed to the floor. 

“May I?” he asked you, a mere breath.

Because you could not say a word, you could only nod, a little too enthusiastically. 

Jeonghan’s tongue sliding past your slit had you closing your eyes.

He collected the arousal that glistened, languid in his process—he dared not quicken too quickly, fearing a rushed ending, terrified he would ruin something he had recreated in his dreams. Your taste, your hypnotic taste was even finer than the arousal he had lapped up in his mind, separating your legs even further to fully capture you in his mouth. His tongue had struck liquid treasure, journeying up your folds, and your breathing turned even, harsher with every stroke.

Your breaths then hitched entirely when he stumbled upon your clit. 

His tongue and your clit could have been soulmates, the way he latched onto the bud, circling like an enthusiastic dog around its owner. He was a broken record, singing the same lamentations of how long he had been waiting to devour you, but he could not stop himself. He hummed at the reactions that elicited from your own tongue. Every little sound that escaped from you was further motivation, a confirmation that you had not moved on from his touches.

And how could you have done?

The memories were flooding in the hazy gates of your mind, flashbacks of him kneeling in all corners of the world—sucking on your clit in the darkness of the London bars, stuffing his face in the districts of Bangkok, unravelling you in the gardens of Marrakech. Which continent had he not travelled to delve within you, both of you always drunk out of your minds, but never quite forgetting the passions that still remained rampant to this day.

Now, in this small, Parisian apartment, with no one to dare spy on the two of you—no one but the posters on the walls, or the pictures on the board—the film noir star could rest easy, stone cold sober, as he glided his tongue on your bundle of nerves. He gripped your thighs, his jaw opening wider, and your legs threatened to buckle from under you. 

He was giving his all, his ministrations laced with a helplessness you had never sensed before. As if you were going to slip away from him, he held onto you with a certain determination, almost as if in any second, you would run away again, break his heart for the last time.

That could have broken your own soul.

Your hands went to his hair, carding through the mess of curls, ruining them even more. You held onto him because you needed him to understand that you were not going anywhere, not anymore. Your fingers, threading into his locks, making him feel your presence—he had to get through his head that your screw ups ended at this moment. 

When he began to quicken at your touches, you would have abandoned every bad decision you thought of ever making. 

You stole a glance down, blinking heavily back at the sight. 

It was like the image of a holy man, kneeling at the altar of his god; perhaps more would have resorted to religion if they saw the way Jeonghan worshipped you with his mouth, over and over again like a neverending mass. 

Seeing him speeding up his rhythm firsthand had your whimpers gaining a voice, the small of your back tensing up. You were constricting, fidgeting much harder in his grasp. 

If his tongue was not enough, then the man let one of your sides free from his grip. Those fingers then crept closer, his mouth never stopping as he slipped one inside. The surprise of the digit entering had you gasping, the hold on his hair unsteady as it nearly filled you up. 

You delighted in its presence, even more so when you felt the pleasure of it leaving you. Your walls began to pulsate when the finger came back, a steady pattern Jeonghan knew was your favourite. You suppose it should not have been such a surprise, but he knew you too damn well. He knew which little things would make you lose your very senses, follow his trail till the end of time.

He was faster now, leading you closer and closer to your release, which felt so imminent. You could almost taste its remnants, the dull ache threatening to course through your body.

“J-Jeonghan—!” you got out, shaking in his hold, even in your speech. “I’m so—fuck, I’m so close—”

But you did not have to say a single word, because he could sense your incoming release, controlled by his fingers, his tongue. To know he held the power of your undoing thrilled him.

Even after all this time, you followed the melody of his music, and no one else’s.

Your ex-lover softly teethed your clit, his finger diving into you to the knuckle.

You could not restrain yourself any longer. 

With a final gasp you let yourself go, your orgasm singing your body to life, freeing you from the dull throbbing caused by his truly. The constriction snapped, and your legs could not take you anymore—you would have collapsed on the ground had his hand on your hip not stopped the fall.

Quickly sliding his finger out, you felt hollow with his tongue leaving too. As he pulled away, holding you on both sides, he let you slide down till you were at level with him. 

You stole a peek at his slick finger, then his slicker lips. You parted yours when he licked his mouth, savouring the taste of you. 

“You have no idea,” he began, voice much raspier, “How long I’ve been wanting to do that.”

But you could not respond to him, legs still numb, mouth still slightly agape by the frenzied sight of him. You thought you were done, but then he confided this to you, and all the desire that you thought had been released was churning once again. 

How manic you had become, how insatiable your hunger had transformed for him—exactly how he had prayed at your altar, you could have clasped your hands in devotion before him, begging him to never stop.

So you tried to muster this urgency when you asked him, quietly, but not softly, “Then why have you stopped here?” 

You brought your hands to his face, relishing in the warmth of his cheeks. “Have we not…not waited far too long to come to this?”

He leaned in further, nodding absentmindedly as he stared at your lips. “Too fucking long, mon ange.” 

And he swooped in once more, enveloping your lips with his, because it was not enough, and he needed more. Thank God his thirst had not satiated, because you did not think you would have retained your sanity had he been done then and there. You were still reeling over from your release, only just finding feeling in your legs. Even so, perhaps you did not even need feeling, because, as he was sliding his tongue through the seam of your lips, his hands found refuge under your knees, your back. 

His mouth drowned out your gasp as you were lifted in his arms, you instinctively wrapping your arms around him as he led you to his midnight-clouded bed. Gently he settled upon the soft sheets, laying you down as he broke away for a fleeting moment. 

He was making to take his shirt off, fingers resting on the hem when you stopped him, hands on his.

“Let me,” you whispered. “Let me do at least one thing for you.”

Jeonghan blinked back, catching the gentle request in your eyes. He could not have accepted fast enough, pressing kisses to the corners of your lips, your jaw as your wavering hands raised the shirt off him, tossing it to the side. You caught the sight of his slender frame, and could not stop yourself as your fingers skimmed the soft skin of his abdomen. To think no one had seen the sliver of his shoulders, let alone the waist-up nakedness—no television screen, no secret reporter had captured him the way he was over you, watching you admire him shamelessly. He could only raise his groomed brows at you, tugging at your own shirt, which was buttoned to the top. 

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he murmured, unbuttoning the layers one by one. “Or I couldn’t…I could never leave.”

As your shirt accompanied his, you asked him, voice barely out as he drank in the lace of your bra, “Do you want to?” 

But his finger was trailing the hem of your strap, urging you to lift yourself only a little as he unclipped it with one hand, all the while watching the hesitance of your own fingers as you pulled his trousers down. His eyes may have darted all over your bare figure, your shifting demeanour, but he did not waver. Even as the last of his layers were being uncovered, peeling away his trousers, his boxer briefs, no one tried to shy away, even when there was nothing left to hide away in for the two of you.

You supposed seeing Yoon Jeonghan naked should have burst you into cinders. 

Sure, you were heating up at the mere sight of him, but an overwhelming nostalgia washed over your mind—it was as if your heart, too, was moving strangely along with the thrums of your desire. It had been so long, and you did not—could not—even comprehend finding yourself at this stage. Even your ex-lover’s stare had faltered, turning heavy-lidded. 

Finally…finally he was experiencing the events of his dreams.

As he towered over you, guiding his cock that you could not stop looking at, his other hand found a home at your hips. He could hardly focus, the memories of your first time with him, and so many times afterwards, rushing with his one move. The tip teased your entrance, staining it with your returning arousal, and you hitched in a sharp breath.

No—you should not look at Jeonghan like he was the last piece of the puzzle of your happiness, as if he held the power to salvage the destruction you had caused. You asked him, in that sweet hushed whisper that raised his temperature, whether you would ever leave him, and it could have pained him that you had to ask in the first place. 

“Never,” he rasped out, curls moving along his face as he drifted closer. “Leave you…?” He shook his head slowly, his nose brushing yours with every shake. “Never again.”

With that, he indulged in his greatest fantasy, one he harboured the moment he declared his love for you.

His cock slid further inside, and you gripped his shoulder, a whimper prying out of your mouth without any restraint. God, he was filling you up, more so than you imagined. Maybe you had not made love to anyone in such a while, and had forgotten the feeling.

But you had not forgotten sex with Jeonghan—or at least you thought, because nothing could have braced you for the feeling of him inside you.

“There,” he said softly, a phantom smile appearing as he bottomed out in you, ragged breathing exposing. “Just like that, mon ange.” He raised his fingers to your mouth, thumb playing with your lip. “Need you to…ah, moan just like that.”

“Jeonghan…” you murmured, too bewildered by the feeling of your walls clenching around him to respond to his broken whispers. “So good…feels so good.”

His smile could have cured all your heartache. “Good,” he said, the soft plush of his mouth caressing yours. Even with all the distance snuffed out, he completely engulfed you with his presence, his locks tickling your cheeks. You could not breathe any oxygen, but the man above you, labouring inside of you…could oxygen not be replaced by his presence? Could you not have inhaled his very scent into your bones, lived off the desire sparking in his wild eyes?

Then, he began to pull out, tilting his back head slightly to watch your pupils dilating, brows drawing together, gasping slightly at the feeling. He wished he could bottle the moment, necklace the image and perch it on his heart forever. You were so in sync to his movements, reacting so well to his cock, that he wondered whether you were made just for him. A selfish pondering, of course, but Jeonghan’s newfound greed seemed to overwhelm him. 

“So beautiful,” he whispered to you, voice lowering an octave as he kept moving, creating a rhythm so spellbinding you could not help following along. “You look so…so beautiful under me, I—”

He thrust inside you again once he was barely teasing your folds, and you swore he hit a spot that had you seeing stars. Perhaps you could have transcended into another world, another galaxy which was made just for the two of you—no one would watch over you and him, and you could bask in each other forever, without the prying eyes of the world you were in. His knitted brows, his heavy-lidded eyes, dazing over—his slick, parted mouth, his unruly hair, matting with sweat. Everything you scrutinised, painting him in your mind so you could never forget, putting this Jeonghan on the pedestal of your memories. 

Too long—too long you had simply lived in the past.

It was time for you to live in the present.

Wrapping your legs around him, you took him in even deeper, hands sliding up from his shoulder to his face, caressing his raven locks on the way. “Look at you,” he kept saying, because he still could not believe you were here, taking him so well, eliciting sounds that could have had the dead flustered in their graves. “So pretty while you take my cock—ah!” He could not even finish properly, his mind clouding. His own interruption stirred something dark, something delicious inside you.

He was moving a little quicker, gliding the two of you upon midnight sheets. “Faster, mon ange?” he asked you between kisses. You nodded enthusiastically, without even realising, and he chuckled slightly, fanning your face. “No, darling, I…words, I need your words.”

You did not think you could even muster a single thing to oblige him, but the familiar feeling, pulsating at the small of your back, returned. “Faster, please,” you got out, and he obliged you, fastening his pace—the moment your whimpers morphed into pants, he knew he was doing something right. Once he quickened, the dull thrum slowly returned, barely even noticeable at first. Because the man inside you knew you more than you knew yourself, he was aware just how to bring you to that moment.

But he was going to cherish this first.

Even while he picked up the pace, a part of him was too terrified to let these moments end. 

Already you could barely form full sentences, and he knew that soon, he would sense your very release impending. You were so good to him, so exceptional, better than all the dreams he had experienced in dark nights from years ago. You were quite possibly everything he had secretly hoped, and to think he had only glimpses in these years…he would make sure to never have you doubt him again.

“Close,” you began, losing a slight grip on your senses with his pattern, his cock that you had not realised you missed. “I-I’m close—”

But he could tell from impeding moans, drowning out his own breathless grunts, slowly losing his own control over his movements. He nodded hurriedly, fastening some more.

This time, his thrusts became erratic, all of his praises incoherent as he teethed love-bites onto your skin, burying his face in your shoulder. He whispered sweet praises in your ear as he pounded into you, and you were certain that you would never regain sanity again after all of this was over. If his cock was not enough, then he brought his fingers into the midst, prodding at your clit to entice even more pleasure. You were whining onto his skin, his mouth, needing him to undo you before you burst under his hold.

“F-fuck, angel,” he breathed out, all his strength being used in pleasuring you fully. “Even more beautiful than my dreams—!” 

It was not as if you were making it any easier for him.

No, the film noir star was breaking, tearing at the seams, because you were moaning sweet nothings to him, words he could not make out, until you chanted his name. Jeonghan! Jeonghan! Jeonghan! you kept begging, and it dawned on him that all his devotion was finally reaping its reward. You, a star who had never bowed to anyone, were thrashing and shaking from his touches, pleading for release only he could bestow, and now, he was the altar you prayed to with a sinner’s desperation. 

Because the two of you had finally found each other after fate had tried to pull you apart, he would listen. Because, after years of separation, a plethora of misunderstandings, untold feelings, and an infinite amount of silences gone far too long, he would finally break these horrid curses.

Because the man was utterly in love with you, he would never dismiss your pleas.

So, with one final collision of his lips against yours, he worked overtime as his cock plunged into you one last time, your bundle of nerves never resting from the circling of his fingers. 

You cried onto his shoulder as your orgasm crashed through, electric as it pulsed through your body, legs shaking under his hands. Blinking hurriedly, you felt him slither out of you, just in time for his own orgasm. He stained his midnight sheets of his release, collapsing right next to you with a soft, low curse. 

As the two of you tried to recover from your ministrations, both chests unevenly rising, falling, arms touching, you stared up at the ceiling, your heart pumping in your ears.

Oh my God.

You could not believe it. 

After what felt like twenty lifetimes, you had finally found Jeonghan—found him, and managed to keep him, despite everything.

Your old habits would have you doubting this whole event happened, but even you knew you should allow yourself this happy certainty. 

You gazed at the black walls, the small lights in the middle. As the blood pumping in your ears began to simmer down, you heard more clearly his broken huffs—the beginnings of a laugh that barely bubbled out of his mouth.

Catching onto it, you turned on your side, looking at his closed eyes, and the corner of his lips which curved upwards. “What’s the laugh for?” 

Although he swayed his head, as if waving off your question, he spoke up after a moment. “I just…I can’t believe you ran after a bus for me.”

When he caught the exasperation on your face, he almost glowed with amusement. “I nearly fell off the back of it, too,” you grated out, almost creasing from the memory. “Everybody just gawked as I got on.”

He shifted, facing you. “I suppose it is not everyday you see a famous actress running after public transport.”

“Infamous, more like,” you corrected. “Well…it is pointless now…” you paused, biting your lip. “I suppose I shall have to get used to it…”

A slight tick of his head. “How so?”

“Seungcheol will never give me the part,” you explained in dejection. When you looked at him, though, you tried to smile. “But truly, it doesn’t matter anymore. I would give it up for you again.”

The man twisted his mouth, but not particularly in a smile. “My dear, I don’t want you to give up your livelihood for me.”

He propped his head in his hand, elbow resting on his pillows. “All I want is for you to realise that you can have everything should you wish it. You do not need to discard the people you love to continue to watch you enjoy.”

You took in his comments. “But Jeonghan,” you said, a little nervous, “What if…” Sighing, you mustered some strength. “Jeonghan, what if you do not like this version of me? The one who might always be a little scared of facing everyone?”

When you saw an untamed grin morphing his beautiful mouth, you had the nerve to be slightly irritated. “What?”

Reaching out, he held your chin between his fingers, “Do you really have to ask me of my feelings after what we have just done?”

He felt the warmth spreading to your face beneath his tongue, furthering his delight. “_____,” he said, “You travelled half of Paris to find me, despite your fears. You braved the daylight for me, angel, when all you found safety was in the darkness of midnight.”

His eyes were wild and free and intense and alive. “I love you, chérie. I loved you the moment I set my eyes on you in that afterparty, and I will never stop…I don’t think I could stop.”

You parted your mouth.

But then you had to close it again, because your heartbeat fluttered out of your skin, your vision going blurry.

This time, it was not the alcohol ruining it, but the blasted tears returning.

“Jeonghan,” you rasped out, resting a shaking hand over his collarbone, “I-I love you so much—”

Before the waterworks completely took over you, the film noir star leaned in, tilting his head as he enveloped his lips with yours, cherishing the hums that left you. 

Jeonghan was not leaving.

He saw the worst, and had decided to stay.

You were so scared—terrified that today would mark the worst moments of your life, but of course, this enigmatic man had saved you once again. You were sure that you would never be able to repay the debts of his kindness, but you finally realised that this came naturally when you were the object of one’s affections.

You did not realise that you were the sole receiver.

You felt yourself smiling against his mouth.

Jeonghan did not ever have to worry again—that was for sure.

Because, after the waiting, the anguish, this bubbling of anticipation, the storm had passed in the end. You were here, right next to the man you had never quite stopped feeling for.

And you knew that, despite whatever the press, the public, anyone threw at the two of you now, you and Jeonghan would survive it.

It was like you confessed—you could sacrifice the universe.

You could not sacrifice Jeonghan.

Yoon Jeonghan—the greatest film star alive, the most beloved object of the world’s affections, your once ex-lover.

Well.

Not an ex anymore.

LE FRANCE-SOIR, 14TH JANUARY, 1955

THE PRINCESS OF HOLLYWOOD’S SURPRISING RETURN IN SEUNGCHEOL FILM!

Yes, you read it right—our very own infamous star, _____, is back in our papers, but this time, she has saved herself! Our sources tell us that she has landed herself the lead role in a Choi Productions film, and is set to be the biggest release of this year! Who would have thought that with everything she had done, and experienced the consequences of, she would be back to dominate our screens! 

As well as her films, she seems to have excelled in her romantic liaisons! Here are some exclusive pictures of her and her old flame Jeonghan, hand-in-hand as they wander the streets of Paris together. It has been a couple of months since they were first seen together after five years. Many of our readers believe it will not last, just as they did not the first time.

But who knows anymore? We could not predict our Princess being disgraced, nor could we imagine her climbing back up. Perhaps this new adventure with the greatest star in the world is more than a five-year fancy.

We will keep all our readers updated on their journey together! We believe that this will not be the last time we see them together.

Perhaps they are, after all, meant to be.

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL’S PERFECT EYEBROWS RAISED TO THE ANCIENT CEILING AS HE REGARDED YOU.

You shifted under his gaze, tightening your jacket around yourself. It was not particularly cold, considering it was the beginning of the year, but the way he looked at you with a strange sense of surprise had your discomfort growing. 

Seungkwan, watching the bizarre scene, tapped his foot impatiently against the marble floors of the Louvre. “What’s with the ogling, old man? Don’t you have a film to look over?”

The director slid his withering stare to the agent. “First of all, why are you here? Last time I remembered, you were _____’s little servant, not an actor.” The accused was ready to start shouting at the comment, but he continued. “Second,” he said, looking at you again, “You are early. I was not expecting you for another half-hour.”

“Do you frown upon punctuality?” you asked him, ignoring Seungkwan’s hushed protests. 

“No, actually…I’m rather shocked when someone exudes it.” Seungcheol cocked his head. “Especially since you are known for being late.”

Biting your lip in embarrassment, you willed your hands to your sides. “I’m aware of my…behaviour…” Distant memories flashed in your mind—memories of yourself you would rather forget. “Take this as me making amends.”

“Amends?” He clicked his tongue. “We will see how quickly you will resort to your old habits.”

Your dear agent crossed his arms. “All this attitude, yet you still gave _____ the leading role.”

“Well…” he turned on his heel. “Take this as me believing your amends.” He began to walk forward, expecting you both to follow. “But you better not expect any special treatment.”

You could only sigh, looking behind you at the museum entrance, where a mass of people were gathered outside, stopped only by a dozen security guards. With one momentary glance at Seungkwan, who only rolled his eyes, the two of you trailed after the director’s steps, further into the fine hallways of the Louvre.

It was all true—Seungcheol had offered you the role that you had auditioned for, nearly two weeks ago.

You could not believe the news at first—your agent could not either, although he was the messenger. He bothered the director with numerous phone calls, making sure that he was not being fooled, but when the elder threatened to kick you off the role, the younger screamed and ended the call, confirming your suspicions.

The greatest filmmaker in Hollywood decided to place his trust in you. It felt unbelievable, considering people were still whispering about your months-old scandal. However, when the papers began to circulate news of your contract with Choi productions, the malicious gossip had begun to alleviate.

It was as Seungkwan had predicted—you only needed one big film to turn your life around.

So here you were, following the man who decided to give you a chance in the industry into a palace-turned-museum you had visited one too many times during your visit. 

What was once a quiet sanctuary in the middle of the night had become a bustling palace filled with the film crew—the hallways were decked with cameramen, makeup artists, costume designers, running around and hurrying to their tasks. Some of the film crew spoke to the extra security guards that Seungcheol had stationed, in case a manic fan managed to sneak past the entrances. There were orders being shouted at every corner, half of the requests being lost in rapid French.

“Is Seokmin back yet?” Seungcheol demanded from his head cameraman, who had rushed over to him, providing details of the scene you were beginning with. When the man informed him of why your co-star was so indisposed, the director made sure everyone heard his irritated sigh. “Jesus, just tell him to hurry up!”

As you kept sneaking glances behind you, Seungkwan followed your vision, patting you on the shoulder. “Stop fretting, _____. He said he could not come today.”

“I know…” But you could not help your slight dejection. “I hope I can see him in the evening, at least.”

“My goodness!” A scoff. “Perhaps you should save the melodrama for when the cameras start rolling.”

You shot him a glower. “Maybe Seungcheol is right in wanting to throw you out.”

As the director led you into the exhibitions’ wing, you began to take in the familiar artwork, the dozens of Psyches and Cupids now separated. Although you missed all the interpretations you had seen that night, all those months ago, you wondered where the star attraction might be. 

“_____.”

You turned to the director, who skimmed over a few details on his clipboard, provided by his assistant. “You are on makeup. Now, what I wanted was a professional working on you, but I received a special request about two days prior from a friend to work on the set cosmetics.”

“Oh,” you got out, slightly confused. “Where do I need to go?”

Seungcheol pointed at the end of the hall, down to the next room, where the costume crew was located. “Do whatever you wish, but you better not be in front of the cameras caked like a clown.” 

“Of course,” you reassured him, but the confusion had not disappeared. “Who was the friend?”

The director twisted his lips. “Enough asking, more following!” 

“All right, all right!” you rushed out, shaking your head as you followed the path he explained. The artworks still revolved around your favourite subjects as you walked closer to the grand doorways, but you did not see your most prized sculpture.

You did not see Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss until you stepped into the costume crew’s domain. 

Hundreds of outfits had been hung in racks, creating an easier way to transport all the clothing from set to set. The hall was bustling too, men and women either fixing a dress or a skirt, checking the products were up to standard, or being distracted as they admired the classical masterpieces around them.

What distracted you, though, for a single second, was your favourite sculpture, out on display in the middle of the chaos. 

What held your distraction for a lifetime was the man before it.

“Jeonghan?”

The said-actor looked up from his papers, catching sight of you.

When his smile lit up his entire face, you could have floated in the clouds of the Louvre’s ceilings, among the godly figures that were painted, watching the reunion.

Immediately you ran over to him, taking little care for the people around you as you jumped into his arms. His laughter vibrated through your body as he held you tightly, resting his head in the space of your shoulder. 

When you finally pulled away, holding him at arms’ length, you bombarded him with questions. “Why are you here? I mean, I’m delighted you are here, but you said you couldn’t come! What happened?”

“I couldn’t miss your first day of work!” His fingers locked behind your back. “I asked Cheol to let me stay on set. Since he’s a pain in everyone’s ass, he said I couldn’t be here unless I made myself useful.”

He looked around, jerking his head to everyone’s stations. “So that’s why I suggested I help with makeup and the like.”

“Ah, so you’re the friend he was complaining about,” you figured. “I trust you since your own makeup has been done quite well.”

“Quite well?” He narrowed his eyes in excessive pride. “Darling, I was expecting never ending praises of my work.”

You raised your chin. “I will sing your praises when you don’t ruin my face after we’re done.”

“I cannot promise you that.”

Glancing at the exit, you mused, “Perhaps it’s not too late to run out of here…”

Chuckling, he turned you around, gesturing for you to sit in the two free chairs beside your favourite sculpture. “Here, sit,” he said, grabbing a small bag on the makeshift tables, right next to the racks of clothing. After settling himself down, he opened the zipper, looking through the contents given by the head artist in the crew. “Right…onto the makeup…”

You watched him inspect each cosmetic, checking too intently at the bottles of foundation, circles of powder, or small tubes of lipstick that he opened and twisted. When he pulled out an eyebrow pencil, his own furrowed, puzzlement clear in his features.

“Jeonghan…” you could barely contain your smile. “Do you know what half of these products are used for?”

“Of course!” He looked intently at the pencil. “This pencil…well, obviously it is used for…hmm…” 

He then looked at you, cocking his head. “Right…” He put the pencil back in the bag. “You know what? You do not need makeup! No need to add to perfection, as I always say.”

“Are you complimenting me because you don’t know what a brow pencil is used for?”

“Brow pencil?” He gawked at the bag. “Is that what it’s called?”

“Seungcheol would have your head if he heard us,” you warned, taking the bag from the actor. “Here, I will add the makeup myself. You sit here and look pretty.”

“That,” he announced, smirking, “I can do without a problem.”

You only shook your head, bringing out the different products, starting with the powder. You made Jeonghan hold up a small mirror as you began, slowly adding the layers of makeup that you had grown accustomed to. As you continued your progress, your dear actor watched, admiring how smoothly you applied each puff of the powder, each thin coat of foundation. 

When you opened the tiny container of block mascara, you leaned into the mirror, gently stroking your lashes against the open end of the stick. It was when you were applying your mascara when you were asked a question.

“How are you feeling about today?”

You inspected your lashes—they needed more work. “Nervous,” you replied honestly, adding a little more tint. “I mean, I am excited too, but…it’s been so long.” 

“No, of course.” He shifted the mirror to your other eye. “Your last project was a couple of years back, right?”

Humming in confirmation, you added the mascara to the next set. “I know I’m a good actress, Jeonghan, but…I just…I don’t want to go back to how I was.” You closed the stick back, tossing it in the bag. “The drinking, the fighting…I can’t let it happen again.”

You then brought out the eyeliner, trying to create a perfect wing on your left eye. “If I screw this up, then…it truly would be over for me. I wouldn’t deserve anything in the future…” You paused, realising you drew the line crooked. “Damn it.”

Your dear beau smiled at your mistake. “Wait, hold this.” Taking the mirror from him, he then took the eyeliner from you. Fingers reaching out, he held your jaw, pulling you closer to him. “Let me.”

Although your heart fluttered at the action, you still got out, “Are you sure you know what you are doing?”

He slid his gaze to you. “I doubt I can ruin it any more than you have.”

“Get your hands off me this instant.”

“Wait, wait!” he said between huffs of laughter. “Just close your eyes. Let me fix it.”

“Fine,” you mumbled out, obliging him.

Jeonghan looked at you for a moment, eyes closed, waiting for him to begin.

He thought about what you had said to him just now. 

Bringing the point of the liner to the inner corner of your eye, he knew he could not shy away from the truth—what you experienced after the end of your relationship with him was possibly the roughest downfall Hollywood had seen during that decade. He may not have spoken to you during those five years, but he had certainly witnessed and heard what everyone had written and said of you. Of course, he was aware that the press had exaggerated in every article or talk show to gain a reaction, but at the end of the day, your erratic behaviour was the beginning of all the negative exposure.

But you were in front of him now—readying yourself for a Seungcheol production, as patient as a parent with a child, as peaceful as the Parisian night. You had owned your mistakes, apologised to the people you had hurt.

With a slow, yet steady pace, he carefully lined your eyelid, finishing off with a perfect wing.

You had admitted to your faults, and endeavoured to amend them. That alone can take an immense amount of strength.

“Change does not occur overnight, mon ange,” he said to you, turning to the other, naked eyelid. “I fear people will always bring up the past and make you relive it, even if your future may be secure. It is always disheartening, when they compare you to the ghost of what you were.”

With the same, tender pace, he drew the second line, comparing the original to make sure they were identical. All the while, he continued. “But you must remember that you are trying. The press can talk whatever nonsense they conjure to gain attention, but the people who care for you see that you want to change, are trying to change.”

When he was done, he admired his work—then, he admired you, your lips twisting at his words. “If we as people are not allowed to change, then the world will become a little dull, don’t you think?” 

“Besides…” he put the eyeliner back in the bag. “Even with all this change, one thing will remain stagnant.”

You felt his eyes on you, his fingers sliding to your face. 

“Always remember that my love for you will never falter.”

You opened your eyes. 

There he was, looking at you as if he held the universe in his hands.

And as you finally felt Psyche and Cupid’s presence beside the two of you, in their pose of eternal yearning, you smiled at him, confiding in an intimate truth.

“Thank you for saving me.”

Jeonghan’s smile faltered.

He was quite sure that if he said anything to you, then you would catch on to the tremble of his voice.

So he did not say anything, only closing the distance, enveloping his lips with yours. You happily complied to the sweet kiss, as if absorbing the longing of the two deities and taking it for yourselves. 

It would have gone a little further when you were interrupted by a guttural groan at the doorway. You broke away from your actor’s lips, whirling your head to see Seungcheol glaring at you two.

“Just when I thought I could trust Jeonghan,” he began, crossing his arms, “He goes and plays tonsil tennis with my lead actress.”

Your beloved grinned as you hid your head in embarrassment. “It was your fault for trusting me, Cheol. You should know better after knowing me so long.”

“My mistake, you bastard,” seethed the elder. “And as for you, _____! Tell me your makeup is done or I am firing you this second.”

Instantly you shot up from your seat. “Jesus, Seungcheol, I’m ready!” you exclaimed, dusting at your dress. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“Hurry up,” was his next order before thundering out of the room.

Jeonghan waved him off as you sighed heavily. “Don’t fret too much over him. He won’t do anything, really.”

“That’s because he actually likes you,” you countered, touching your lips. “Damn! We forgot the lipstick.”

“No, no, the look is better without it.” A glimmer appeared in his gaze. “Even better that we didn’t add it before, or else it would have stained.”

“How resourceful of you,” you monotoned, as if your cheeks did not burn. “Now, let’s go before he has both our heads. I refuse to die after I have just landed a good role.”

Both of you exited the costume hall, entering back to the main set. The bustling of the camera crew instantly began the moment Seungcheol began voicing orders, humming in approval at his lighting crew, who offered him suggestions. He then addressed everyone as you came into view. “All right, all right, everybody, let’s get into positions!”

He pointed his pen at you. “_____, I want you at the first doorway. This is the scene where she’s waiting for Richard to arrive, and admires the artwork around her.” 

“Perfect,” you said, walking to your position. 

He shot his assistant a withering look. “And for God’s sake, get Seokmin out of the goddamn lavatory this instant! We’ll be finished with the whole movie at this rate!” The poor man only nodded hurriedly before running out of the hall. “Where’s the slate?”

But the camera assistant who held the slate was already before you, waiting for the director’s orders as you prepared yourself, going over the lines one last time. 

Seungkwan and Jeonghan were right behind the cameras, watching you practise. The former raised his fist, a signal of his belief in you. You sent him a quick nod, letting yourself smile at him because if there was one person you had to thank for this opportunity, then it was your dear agent, and even dearer friend.

The latter only had his hands in his trench coat pockets, eyes never straying from you.

“Right!” Seungcheol clapped his hands, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Let us do _____’s solo scene first.” He settled in the seat behind the main camera, held up by a huge tripod. 

Signalling the camera assistant, she commenced, “Scene 4, Take 1!” With the click of the slate, she hurried out of view.

This was it.

The final call was going to begin.

You locked your hands behind your back, allowing yourself one last look at your ex-lover. 

No, not ex-lover—never ex. 

He smiled at you. An action so little had every nerve in your body easing.

You could do this.

“Lights!”

You could not believe you were finally here. 

If you had told yourself that you would be in this position the moment you entered this mystical city, you would have never had faith in such a prediction. Your chances had vanished, your fortune had run dry. You truly thought that it was over for you when you landed in this fated city,  thinking that you were begging to an absent god, relying on the empty promises of strangers. 

But you were okay. You were going to be all right.

Because you deserved this. 

“Camera!”

And as your film noir star had rightfully told you, it was not going to be easy, changing from your old, hard habits. It would be a long path, perhaps filled with the same old adversaries. The press was still there, perhaps it always will be. Now, you would not have to fight it alone.

You would have Yoon Jeonghan by your side—and he was not going anywhere anytime soon.

This time, you would never let him go.

You slipped him one last smile before your eyes slid to the camera.

You were ready.

“ACTION!”

a u t h o r ’ s  n o t e : hello everyone i can’t believe y’all have reached the end!! it means so much to me especially for this fic because i never thought paris would ever be finished :’) i have so many people to thank for bringing this work to life—chia, your paris! chan fanart and drawings have been on my mind for the past two years, and all your gushing encouraged me to keep writing (even tho i floored chan im so sorry). Secondly, this is for the Lysol GC! The way you bitches bullied me everytime I scrapped paris since 2020…. HORRENDOUS…but from the bullying to reading over my drafts and encouraging me everytime i hit a block, i would never have finished this fic if it wasn’t for you three <33 and lastly, thank you YSL Jeonghan—you did what my previous ult biases could not inspire me to write !! thank you once again, everyone, for reading, and let me know if y’all enjoyed <3

t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld​ @dalkyeom​ @sysymei​ @alaypsy23​ @belladaisies​ @jjeongddol​@sparklyshuji @forcoups​ @ilovesungjun​ @wonwoo24​ @scandal-in-bohemia​ @hopefulchick​ @superbbananananana​ @onedumbho3​ @fragmentof-indifference​ @cuntycheol​ @rubywonu​ @if-i-like-i-reblog​ @yoonzinoooo​ @jungwoos-luvr​ @crookedwolfruins​ @leclercloverbot​ @alexai 

#seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan smut #seventeen x reader #jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan x reader #seventeen angst #jeonghan angst #yoon jeonghan angst #seventeen scenarios #jeonghan scenarios #yoon jeonghan

[mangocustard16]

BOYFRIEND JEONGHAN WHO...

pairing: idol!jeonghan x reader genre: fluff, established relationship, comfort warnings: not proofread so lmk (; wc: 220 a/n: i love JEONGHAN

bf! jeonghan who feeds you snacks while watching movies and shows

bf! jeonghan who is always down to cuddle instead of going out

bf! jeonghan who makes grabby hands at you when you have to leave early for work

bf! jeonghan whose hands are always on you in some way-around your waist, on your back, holding your hand, etc.

bf! jeonghan who never picks up your call on the first ring because his phone was too far from him

bf! jeonghan who craves your compliments whenever he's feeling good about himself

bf! jeonghan who just cannot sit on the couch without you because it feels too empty

bf! jeonghan who never leaves the house before he's sure you have closed the door

bf! jeonghan who sends 55 pictures a day describing every little thing he saw

bf! jeonghan who always opens your car door without fail

bf! jeonghan who makes sure you always dress warm and carries an extra jacket just in case

bf! jeonghan who loves tracing his name in your palms when you're cuddling

bf! jeonghan who loves falling asleep to your voice so much that he calls you before sleeping when he's on tour

@kflixnet @k-films@k-labels taglist⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅: @bangchansbae @haecien @aaniag if you want to be added just send me an ask ♡⸝⸝

#seventeen #mango.writes #kflixnet #k-films #k-labels #bf! seventeen #svt #seventeen headcanons #svtcreations #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan x you #jeonghan x y/n

[sluttywoozi]

Interlude No. 9 | yjh x reader

Interlude No. 9: Jeonghan broke up with you three months ago, so why is he at your door now?

Rating: sfw (minors still shouldn’t be here) | WC: ~3.3k

Pairing: yjh x reader | Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, a lil romance

Warnings: alcohol mention, swearing, breaking up and making up

Reader Notes: drinks wine, owns a blow dryer

You’re halfway into your second glass of wine and fully done with your skincare when a knock sounds on your apartment door. 

It sounds familiar for some reason, and though you normally would never entertain the thought of accepting an unexpected caller after 9 PM, your gut is telling you to answer. So onto the side table your glass goes before you stand on tired legs and slowly make your way to the hall. You should grab the bat but that gut feeling is still there, the one that says you have nothing to worry about, so you pass the closet you keep it in and continue on to the door. 

Closing one eye, you sweep aside the cover and look through the peephole, gasping at what, or rather, who, you find. 

Yoon Jeonghan. 

The man you dated for two years, the man who broke up with you three months ago without an explanation. 

The man you still love. 

You can’t see much, but you can see that he looks awful. His hair is long and sloppily tied back, his glasses are low on his nose, and his eyes are red, glassy. He gnaws at his lip as he waits, his posture growing worse with every minute that ticks by until he’s all but wilted onto the floor. 

You don’t know what to do. 

You blocked his contact after he left you, swore you wouldn’t speak to him again no matter how many friends you have in common, but here he is at your door, looking, for all intents and purposes, dead inside. 

You can’t see him anymore but he didn’t walk away, which means he must have finally sat down in the hall. You’re just glad he’s not making noise, your neighbors have always been nosy and you hate the idea of them knowing about this. 

He doesn’t seem like he’s going anywhere anytime soon, so all you can do is unlock your three locks and open the door a crack, just enough to spot him. 

His gaze shoots up immediately and he rushes to stand, his limbs clumsy as he picks himself up off the floor. 

“Hi,” he breathes, brushing his clothes off and fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. 

You ignore the way your stomach drops at his voice, ignore the way it feels like a balm to your frayed nerves, and ask quietly, “What are you doing here?” 

He glances away and pushes up his glasses, swiping a hand over his eyes and down his face before saying, “I wanted to talk to you, about us.” 

You bristle, unhealed hurt rising up within you at his words. 

“Now you want to talk? You didn’t seem to have anything to say three months ago when you left,” you remind him harshly, pretending your heart doesn’t ache at the way he flinches and tries to hide it.

“I- I fucked up, I fucked everything up, I know that. But I’ve been trying to talk to you this whole time, ever since I walked out. Please, just listen to me this once, and I promise, if you never want to hear from me again, I’ll leave you alone.”

He sounds distraught, as close to tears as you’ve ever heard him, and you know you shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but you do it anyway. 

You open the door and step to the side, ignoring his deep sigh of relief and pushing down the shock when you smell the cologne you bought him last year as he walks past you. 

You didn’t live together but he knows where to go, making his way to your living room and settling into his corner of the couch. Maybe you should offer him something to drink, but you don’t feel like playing host right now, not when the wound you thought had scarred over has started bleeding again. 

Bypassing your spot on the sofa, you sink into the chair farthest away from him, tugging a blanket over your lap as if it could protect you somehow. 

He stares at you, his gaze a deep pool of sorrow and guilt and his fingers fidgeting in his lap. 

“Well?” You prompt him when he doesn’t speak, almost wishing you had the forethought to grab your glass of wine. You could use it at a time like this. 

“I- I guess I should start off by saying I love you and I’m in love with you and I never stopped being in love with you,” he says it like it’s a vow, like he fears you won’t believe him. 

You say nothing, swallowing around the pit of anguish in your throat. 

“When I left, it was because of me, not because of anything you did. You’re perfect, you always have been. I just- I couldn’t give you what you deserved. I saw how happy you were when Joshua proposed to his partner, and we both knew I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to get married, but I knew that you were sure.”

“I wanted you to be free to find someone who could give you that, and I thought breaking up with you was the right thing to do, but as soon as I left, I knew it was the absolute dumbest and most cowardly thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“I shouldn’t have made that decision for you, I should have told you how I was feeling and let you make the choice yourself, even if the outcome would have been the same.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jeonghan chokes out, his face pinched and his eyes full of saltwater. 

Tears are threatening to stream down your face, your heart squeezing in your chest like someone is wringing it out. It’s time for you to respond to him, but you don’t know what to say. 

You’ve missed him more than you ever thought possible, and a part of you is comforted by the fact that he never stopped loving you. But another part of you is broken, your trust in him fractured and your faith in him lost. 

You feel like he’s misunderstood you on a fundamental level, like the years you spent together were for nothing because he obviously doesn’t know you as well as you thought he did. You feel like your autonomy has been stripped away, like he thinks you’re a child who can’t be trusted to form your own opinions. 

Most of all, you feel robbed, of the last three months, of the lifetime you would have spent with him, married or unmarried. 

“Why are you telling me this now?” You whisper, needing to know his angle. Is he just looking to absolve himself of guilt? You don’t know if you can do that for him. 

“Because I’m dying without you,” he nearly sobs out. “I’ve wanted to come back since I left but my texts and calls wouldn’t go through, and I didn’t want to show up at your job like a creep, and all of our friends hate me except for Seungcheol so there was nobody to carry a message for me. It’s all my own fault, and I know that, I just- I’m selfish, I can’t let you go without knowing you want me to.” 

“Jeonghan, I never wanted you to let me go. I never wanted to be free. I only wanted you,” your voice breaks on the last word, and you have to look away as you fight the urge to openly weep. 

“Past tense?” He sounds defeated, empty. “You don’t…” 

“Yoon Jeonghan, you’re a fucking idiot if you think I don’t love you anymore,” you glare, feeling like you could curse him, hex him and his whole bloodline for his stupidity. “But that doesn’t mean we can pick up where we left off. You broke us, you broke me, and I need time before I can let you in like that again.”

Finally, there’s life in his eyes again, gratitude and love shining on his face, like the fact that you’re even considering it is enough for him. 

“I’ll be here, I’ll wait forever if I have to. And I’m not saying this because I think it’ll change anything, but I do want to marry you, only you, so I mean it when I say forever,” he sends you a watery beam, his face shiny with tears. 

You can’t stop the corners of your mouth from quirking up in a smile, even if you do want to prod further into how he’s suddenly made up his mind. You fear you don’t have the energy for it tonight, not after all of this. 

You also fear you don’t have the heart to send him home alone. He looks a bit better but his cheeks are gaunt, his hair is greasy, and there are dark circles under his eyes. He hasn’t been doing well, and you want to feel vindicated but instead you just feel worried. 

“You can sleep here tonight, on the couch. Let me get you some blankets and pillows,” you whisper, rising to your feet and disappearing into your bedroom before he can protest out of some misguided feeling of imposition. 

You gather up his favorite blanket, the one that’s been folded on the chair in the corner of your room since he broke up with you, and his preferred pillow. It still smells like him even though you’ve changed the case countless times, and you have to admit that you’ve been thankful for it. 

You also get some pajamas he left, having neglected to clear out his drawer because you couldn’t bear to open it. 

He’s right where you left him when you return, head tilted back as he dozes, and you set the bedding at the end of the couch before tentatively resting a hand on his shoulder to wake him. 

He blinks up at you and smiles his sweetest smile, and you feel your heart start to stitch itself back together. In a whisper, you say, “Jeonghan, why don’t you take a shower while I get the couch ready?” 

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do all this,” he mumbles, his eyes avoiding yours as he bites at his lip anxiously. 

“I know I don’t. Let me do it anyway,” you tell him, squeezing his shoulder and reaching down for his hand to pull him up and to the bathroom. 

He follows you obediently, taking the pajamas when you hand them over and grinning shyly at you one last time as the bathroom door closes between you. 

You don't have a lot of time to think as you set up the couch, knowing he takes around ten minutes to shower. You’ll probably offer to blow dry his hair when he gets out, he hates sleeping with it wet, he always thinks it’ll give him a cold. Even after three months without him, caring for him is still as easy as breathing. 

Now that you have some space, you’re not sure how much time you really need to let him back in. 

Of course, you’re still wounded and bitter that he left you in the first place, but you can tell he wasn’t lying, that he really thought he was doing the right thing. You think he knows now that he shouldn’t ever do something like that again, and while your trust in him is cracked, it’s not as broken as you worried it was. 

Setting everything he should and shouldn’t have done aside, you have to admit that you miss him, desperately, and that you want to be his just as much as you want him to be yours. 

But with all of your feelings so fresh, you think you should sleep on it at least one night, just to be sure you have forgiven him, that you can take him back. 

You should have a few minutes left before he’s done, so you sneak back into your room and grab your blow dryer and hair brush from your vanity, setting up shop on the chair closest to an outlet. 

Soon enough, he wanders out in his baggy shirt and pajama pants, squeezing his dripping hair with a towel and grinning when he sees you. 

“Salon time?” He asks with excitement, and you smile indulgently, waving the hair dryer at him and waiting for him to sit cross legged in front of you, his back to your knees and his head at the perfect height for you to take care of his hair. 

It’s soothing to you, carrying out this routine and having this kind of intimacy with him after all these weeks apart. 

You dry and dry until his silky locks slip through your fingers, and when you finally shut the blow dryer off, the silence in the room is deafening. Jeonghan is leaning back against your legs, his head dipped low and his neck bent at an odd angle, and you realize he’s fallen asleep. 

It must have been soothing to him too, you think, gently scratching your nails over his scalp before whispering his name. 

He stirs, looking around in confusion and tilting his head all the way back to look at you upside down, a sleepy smile stretching his lips. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice hushed and relaxed. 

You fight the urge to lean down and press a kiss to his lips like you used to, smoothing your finger over his eyebrow instead and replying, “You’re welcome.”

He pushes up to his feet, stretching his hands overhead and yawning loudly, before turning and reaching for you only to stop short. 

“Goodnight,” he says, holding his hands behind his back like he’ll touch you if he doesn’t. 

“Goodnight,” you whisper, trying to ignore how weird it feels not to follow it with an I love you. 

You turn and retreat to your room before the words can escape without your permission, closing the door behind you with a soft click. 

You’re already all washed up for the night so you just slide into your side of the bed, pulling the duvet tight around you to mimic the feeling of Jeonghan’s arms. 

It takes you ages to fall asleep with the knowledge that he’s just a few yards away, that you could have him in this bed if only you would ask. 

It’s dark when you wake, your heart still racing with the nightmare that roused you though you can’t remember it. You lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling in an attempt to calm yourself, your eyes locking onto the blur of the fan, just barely visible with the moonlight seeping in through the curtains. 

You hardly ever got nightmares when Jeonghan slept over, but you’ve had innumerable sleepless nights over the past three months, and you were hoping tonight wouldn’t be one of them with him in your apartment. 

Maybe you should check and make sure he’s still here. He could have left, could have changed his mind, could have decided he was right to end it with you and gone home to his own apartment, and you wouldn’t even know until morning.

That anxiety is enough to make you roll out of bed and pad over to the door, your steps quiet and your breath caught in your chest. 

You turn the knob as smoothly as you can, pushing the door open and wincing when it creaks. But when you look over to check if you woke Jeonghan, he’s already sitting up, the lamp on the side table on and a book from your shelf in his hands. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks with concern, setting the book face down on the table and giving you his full attention. 

“I just wanted to… check on you,” you give him a half truth, forgetting that he always could see right through you. 

“You were scared I went home, weren't you?” He murmurs, a tinge of sadness to his voice and a remorseful frown on his face. 

“Maybe,” you fiddle with the hem of your t-shirt, avoiding his eyes. “I just had a nightmare so…”

“Was it that I left again?” He asks, pulling his legs up and making room on the couch for you before patting the cushion in front of him. You take a few steps forward and he lifts the blanket up, covering your exposed legs with it when you settle onto the sofa. 

“No, I don’t remember what happened. I just didn’t get them with you around so I thought you might not be around.”

You have to fight the urge not to crawl into his lap and curl up against him, feeling especially starved for affection after waking so abruptly. You wonder if he feels as far from you as you do from him, stuck in this limbo of being together but not together. 

You think he does when you notice the longing in his soft eyes, see the way his brows are gently furrowed and his lip is bitten between his teeth. 

“How can I help?” He wonders quietly, and you only give yourself a few seconds to think it over. 

Yes, he broke up with you for a reason that he should have talked with you about instead. Yes, you’ve missed him the past three months like you never knew you could. Yes, it’s probably too soon to let him back in like this. 

But you find you don’t care about any of that. 

You just want him close, need to know he’s here and he’s staying and he’s yours. 

So you push aside your bruised feelings and whisper in a fragile voice, “Come to bed with me?” 

He looks unsure but rises when you do, his face smoothing out as he offers you his hand and lets you tug him to your bedroom. He hovers when he crosses the threshold and it occurs to you that you might have to guide him. He was so respectful of your boundaries in the beginning of the relationship that you called almost all of the shots, and you wonder if your two years of progress have been undone over the past three months apart. 

But maybe this is a good thing, you think as you lead him over to his side of the bed and tuck him in. You’re the one who told him you can’t pick up where you left off, and you like that he’s reset a bit, that he wants to treat this like a fresh start, because it is one.  

Before, you would just crawl over him onto your side, but now you walk around the bed, climbing in and tugging the blanket over your body. You pull it up to your chin, still feeling a bit chilled, and it takes you less than sixty seconds to decide cuddling is allowed even if you’re beginning anew. 

So you roll onto your side to face him, your eyes just barely able to make him out in the dark of your bedroom. He turns his head to look at you, his hands folded together on his stomach before he reaches one out across the bed. That’s the only signal you need to close the distance and tuck yourself up under his arm, your cheek resting in the hollow of his shoulder and your hand finding his. 

He tilts his head up, pressing his lips to your forehead and sneaking a whiff of your hair as he tangles his fingers with yours. You take in a deep breath, what feels like your first since he ended things, and let your eyelids flutter shut, trusting that he’ll be here when you wake. 

“I love you,” he whispers, so low you almost don’t hear him.

“I love you, too,” you mumble back. “But if you pull that shit again, it’ll be the last thing you ever do, and I mean that.”

“Please murder me if I do. Obviously I’ve gone fucking crazy if I fuck this up again.”

You fall asleep with a smile on your face. 

AN: yayyy i wrote something!! a randomized wheel told me to write jeonghan so i did and it turned into this and then the wheel told me to make it smutty and i was like no that is not correct! so sorry lovelies but no smut today!! it just didn't feel right after them being apart for so long and jeonghan only just starting to make it up to reader and earn her back (even if she is making it easy for him)

thank u for reading, please lmk what you think!!

#k vanity #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan scenarios #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan x you #yoon jeonghan imagines #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt fanfic #kpop oneshots #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfic #✨emily writes✨

[novalpha]

𝘑𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝐹𝑖𝑐 𝑅𝑒𝑐𝑠

♡ Fluff || ୨୧ Angst || ★ Smut || ꗃ SMAU || ⌗ Series || ✿ Drabble || ♤ Mature (No smut) || ✹ Humor || ⸙ On hold ||

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Love café ♡ ୨୧ ★✦ -> @chocosvt

synopsis: while you’ve spent the last few months pretending the love café doesn’t exist, you realize you need its services now more than ever. this brings you face to face with jeonghan, the son of a luxury fashion designer who’s got money to burn. your exchanges are strictly business. until they’re not.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Miracle Bunny ♡୨୧★⌗⸙ -> @caramellohigh

synopsis: Minghao impulsively adopts a hybrid for you and you hate him for it. But after getting to know your new hybrid, you realized it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. You’ve gained a new friend, a companion and… perhaps more?

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ illicit whispers ♡★ -> @httphannie

summary: yoon jeonghan's wanted in almost every country but there's no denying that he's handsome so should it come as a surprise when you end up in his prison cell?

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ KIDULT ♡✹୨୧ -> @hvae

synopsis: jeonghan always believed he was never fond of children, especially when he took the job at your daycare. little did he know the child in him was playing hide and seek, finally revealing itself after growing to love the kids. oh, and you too

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ The selfish dilemma ♡୨୧★⌗ -> @joonsytip

Synopsis: It was love at first sight ever since you laid eyes on Jeonghan. To him, you are the annoying co-worker who keeps asking him out. No one is new to your courting agenda which only pisses off Jeonghan but what happens when you stop, all at once....

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ How to give a blowjob for dummies ♡୨୧★ -> @multiland

summary: your friendship with Jeonghan takes a turn the day the two of you cross the line when he decides to teach you how to give a blowjob, despite your promises of everything staying the same. Tired of waiting for him to acknowledge the elephant in the room, you decide to go on dates. Needless to say, he doesn't like it one bit.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ In her shadow ♡୨୧★⌗✹ -> @hoshzone

summary: you never were the one to fall in love but, just when you think you might’ve found the one, he turns out to be your estranged bitch of a sister’s fiancé. you and jeonghan both know better but, he can’t help but wish he’d met you first, thinking you’re a far better match for him than she’d ever be. #trusttheprocessordon’t…

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Little miss naughty ♡★ -> @hoshzone

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 : not being able to wait until Jeonghan gets off the phone with Joshua, you decide it’d be a good idea to get yourself off on his thigh. He makes sure you pay for that.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Holidate ♡୨୧★ -> @onlymingyus

synopsis: It's only for a week, he's doing you a favor, and he's your fake boyfriend. Why do you have to keep reminding yourself of that?

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Fall back down to earth with you ♡୨୧ -> @97-liners

Synopsis: in which your manager, jeonghan, thinks it’ll be good publicity for you to date hollywood actor and notable heartthrob, joshua hong. of course, everything would be nice and easy if you ended up falling in love with your fake boyfriend joshua, but life is complicated, and your heart ends up pulling you in another direction completely.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Cigarettes and coffee ♡★୨୧ -> @gyukult

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Responsibly irresponsible: white shoes ♡୨୧ -> @twogyuu

Synopsis: Seemingly exciting at first, Jeonghan slowly comes to realize that being a dad is more than meets the eye, especially when he meets your mother (unexpectedly) for the first time. Did you mention? She doesn't know you're pregnant.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Inflection point ♡★୨୧ -> @lovelyhan

summary: you love yoon jeonghan. no, scratch that. you fucking adore yoon jeonghan; so much that the moment he asks you to be in an exclusive set-up with his current partner, you accept the offer in a heartbeat. what you fail to consider, however, is who your boss’ boyfriend actually is.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ It's nice to have a friend ♡★⌗ -> @sluttywoozi

You and Jeonghan have embarked on your fifth annual Best Friends trip, but it's a bit different than usual, considering he made the reservation under Yoon Y/N and told them he was your husband.

What's a honeymoon between friends anyway?

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Sweater paws ♡★ -> @duhnova

synopsis: your soft and cuddly virgin boyfriend isn’t so soft and innocent when he wakes up in the middle of the night from a wet dream

[More Jeonghan fic recs will be updated]

Want more Seventeen fic recs? -> Click Here

#jeonghan smut #svt smut #jeonghan angst #jeonghan fic #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan fluff #yoon jeonghan smut #jeonghan #jeonghan series #seventeen au #seventeen angst #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen fic rec #seventeen fic recs #jeonghan recs #jeonghan fic recs #svt fic recs #fic recs #seventeen smut #seventeen recs