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Kim Go-Eun & Lee Do-Hyun in promotional stills for 'EXHUMA'

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「梅・桜・桃」の違い、わかりますか？

どれもバラ目バラ科サクラ属の植物なので、似ているのも当然です。種類によっては例外もありますが、見分けるポイントは花の付き方と花びらの形、そして咲く時期です。

__

Differences between:

Ume / 梅 / plum blossom

Sakura / 桜 / cherry blossom

Momo / 桃 / peach blossom

These Rosaceae family of flowers are all culturally cherished throughout history of Japan, symbolising the beginning of new year and spring. Yet they are often confused!

Here are some tips: plum blossoms as early as January with round petals; cherry blossoms March to April and have a small split at the end of each petal; peach blossoms in April and have pointy petals.

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Ink Artwork by Endre Penovác

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Wasabitool on Instagram

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Statue of the goddess Aphrodite bathing in the garden of the Reggia di Caserta, Italy.

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Reread this seven times 🧎‍♀️

+ series summary: as marius von hagen’s assistant, it’s your job to accompany him to certain public functions. you’re used to being in the background, but this time? the event is an engagement party, and he doesn’t need an assistant. he needs a date.

as soon as the elevator opens to the penthouse floor, you pull the key card out of your purse and march straight to the door on your right.

six months ago you would have hesitated. six months ago you would have knocked politely, with a cup of coffee, a muffin, and a kind smile. 

now, you slap the key against the scanner aggressively. as soon as it turns green, you push down the handle and lean heavily on the door to let yourself in. 

you scrunch your nose as you step over a pair of sloppily discarded high heels, slipping your own off and pushing both pairs aside with a stocking-clad foot. then you venture into your boss’ apartment, deciding to deal with the blonde scrolling through her phone on the couch first.

“you need to leave,” you tell her dispassionately, picking up what you assume is her clutch and tossing it into her lap. “this isn’t a bed and breakfast. mr. von hagen has business to attend to.”

you wait impatiently as she looks you up and down, taking in your office ensemble along with the identification card hanging from your lanyard. 

relenting, she lets you herd her out the door without protest, but not before handing off all her contact information in case your boss ‘wants to have fun again.’

you take the little slip of paper (noting the lipstick kiss in the corner), then slam the door in her face. 

monday mornings are always the same. 

after kicking out sunday’s trash, you grab some aspirin and a glass of water, heading for the master bedroom.

predictably, marius is still passed out. you find him practically spread-eagled in the bed, with only a thin top sheet protecting his modesty. 

you’ve learned the hard way that marius sleeps nude, but seeing his toned chest and abdomen, along with the neatly trimmed trail of hair leading below the sheet never fails to make you catch your breath…

you squeeze your eyes shut, telling yourself to snap out of it. he’s your boss, the man who signs your paychecks and is the cause of some of your biggest headaches to date. 

“sir,” you whisper harshly from the doorway, reluctant to move closer. when you don’t get a response, you call out to him again, this time at a normal volume. much to your chagrin, his cute sleeping face - mouth slightly parted, brows scrunched - remains unchanged. 

huffing, you step around last night’s clothes and empty liquor bottles to rip the curtains open, letting the morning sunshine stream into the room. this action makes marius stir, groaning tiredly as he lays a hand over his eyes. 

“sir,” you say again, with more force this time. “you have a consult with the legal team in a half hour.”

“the legal team…” he mutters, still refusing to pry his eyes open. 

he continues to grumble uselessly into his pillowcase, clearly intending to make your job as difficult as possible. 

…until you check your watch and decide that you can’t waste anymore time coddling him, so you take the half filled glass of water and dump it over his head. 

he jerks up with a sputter, glaring at you as he swipes the ice water out of his face. 

“there are nicer ways to wake a guy up, you know,” he huffs, shaking the water out of his hair. 

you set the glass down, sighing. “if you want to be babied, sir, you should call vincent.” 

he mumbles something you’re sure is rude under his breath, pushing wet bangs out of his face before asking, “where’s maia?”

“first of all her name is–” you check the note you’d scrunched in your pocket. “–mia and she left her cell number, home number, and the number of the strip club she works at.” you hold it out to him, humming. “very classy, sir.”  

he doesn’t even look at it, so you crumple it back up and stuff it into your pocket. 

“yikes. i don’t know why she bothered. i already gave her the speech.” he shrugs, clearing his throat as he recites, “‘last night was incredible. you’re a great girl, but right now in my career–’” 

“‘i just can’t give you the relationship you want or deserve,’” you finish, having heard him recycle the practiced line to multiple other hookups in the last three months.

“hey, you memorized it!” he exclaims, lifting his hand for a high five. he lowers it when he sees your unimpressed look. “wrong crowd, i see that now.”

rolling your eyes, you turn around and open the door to his closet, grabbing a set of clothes that costs more than your rent and laying them over your arm as you call over your shoulder, “when i took this job, i didn’t expect to deal with the pussy parade. be honest, are you in some kind of competitive sex tournament?”

“i’m young and single!” he reasons, catching the boxers you throw at his head and quickly slipping them on. “i’m allowed to sow a few oats.” 

everyone in the office knows that it’s really about the lawyer from themis getting engaged. 

you’ve seen the way marius used to look at her, seen the plain adoration that used to shine in his gaze. it’s why ever since news of her engagement, you go through this every monday— when she comes in to help him navigate the confusing reports and updates of confusing legalese.

his behaviour these past few weeks was a coping mechanism. an unhealthy one, obviously, but who were you to tell that to the president of a multi-billion dollar company?

“whatever you say, sir,” you shrug, shoving the pants and button down into his arms. “get changed. i’ll call vincent and have him let everyone know we’re on our way.” 

you step out of the bedroom to let him get dressed, deciding to make yourself busy by starting the coffee maker. as the scent of freshly ground beans fills the penthouse, you take a moment to pull out your phone and double-check your boss’ calendar. 

after the meeting with legal, his schedule is relatively clear. only a handful of things you need him to review, along with a spot of press. it’s a relatively easy monday, by all means.

it’s then that berry decides to make an appearance, the adorable russian blue leaping up onto the counter and meowing insistently to get your attention. smiling, you reach out to scratch lightly under his chin.

“what are we going to do with him, huh?” you whisper, scooping him up into your arms. content purrs rumble against your palm as you stroke his fur. 

“traitor,” marius scoffs, entering the kitchen. you glance over your shoulder to see him looking somewhat put together. not only is his shirt still untucked, but his hair is still messy and wet and you’re positive he’s still sweating tequila. 

he ignores the fresh coffee in favour of grabbing a carton of orange juice from the fridge. he unscrews the cap, flicking it onto the counter so he can take a swig. 

“unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath. marius  glances over at you, wiping the corner of his mouth with sleeve before holding the carton out to you. 

“what? you want some?”

you push it away with a fingertip. “no, thank you.”

he shrugs, screwing the cap back on and shoving it back into the fridge. you and berry watch with equally unimpressed looks as he rummages through the oversized pantry, resurfacing with a box of cereal. 

you turn to open a nearby cabinet, grabbing a bowl. 

but in those few seconds, he’d already ripped the box open and was scooping cereal out with his hands, pouring handfuls into his mouth. 

this is it, you think as he gets crumbs all over his nice shirt. this is what marius von hagen looks like when he hits rock bottom. 

_____

you barely make it to the meeting on time. 

the whole team is already seated, ready to begin. marius - with the mcdonald’s iced coffee that’d almost made the two of you late in hand - takes a seat at the head of the conference table. 

your boss is surprisingly alert despite the fact that his brain is currently steeped in alcohol. he takes notes, asks appropriate questions, makes thoughtful suggestions. it’s one of the things you respect about him. he is a professional first and foremost.

“it seems that’s all for today,” he says once the last subject has been covered. “if there are any other questions, please keep them to yourselves.”

with that, he makes his grand exit.

well…he was a professional most of the time.

you're quick to jump in when the room fills with dissatisfied murmurs. “if you have any questions, please direct them to vincent or myself so we may raise them with mr. von hagen at a later time."

with that, everyone carries on with their day. you head back to your desk with an armload of paperwork for marius to look over and sign. you read the first few pages as you walk, already working out a summary in your head.

you make it to your desk just in time to see rosa following marius into his office.

chatting in his office after a meeting is a fairly common occurance. rosa comes by to help review whatever contracts his staff of corporate lawyers had drawn up, or walk him through any topics confused about.

your phone buzzes with a message from marius.

[marius]: come get me in five to say that we’ll be late for lunch.

what isn’t common is for him to do that.

but you do as he says, knocking politely when the five minutes are up.

“come in!”

“sir,” you begin after sending rosa a small wave. “we’ll be late for lunch if we don’t leave now.”

“lunch?” the young lawyer echoes, sounding confused. “it’s hardly 10am.”

marius clicks his tongue, closing the folder on his desk. “well, you know what they say. early worm gets the worm.”

“that’s not at all correct—”

he’s already nudging you out the door, a respectful hand resting on the small of your back as he guides you away from his office. “see you later, miss!”

“what are you doing?” you ask, feeling your face heat up as you become the object of your coworker’s confused stares. “i have work to do—”

marius pulls you into an empty conference room, closing the door behind you.

“rosa invited me to her engagement party this weekend,” he says, tone clipped.

you’re not quite sure where he’s going with this. “shall i pick out a gift?”

“no, i’ll take care of that,” he tells you. then, with a growing smile that almost always means he’s up to something, he asks, “what are you doing this saturday?”

“i—”

“trick question. i’d like you to accompany me as my date.”

[youmenotyummy]

bailey..

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texting them: let's break up. yuuji, megumi, satoru | koko, manjiro, sanzu.

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unfortunate situations aki, denji, yoshida | megumi, itadori, toji.

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★ 【Ducartoon】 「 💐Date + Bond!! 」 ☆ ✔ republished w/permission ⊳ ⊳ follow me on twitter

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+ series summary: as marius von hagen’s assistant, it’s your job to accompany him to certain public functions. you’re used to being in the background, but this time? the event is an engagement party, and he doesn’t need an assistant. he needs a date.

as soon as the elevator opens to the penthouse floor, you pull the key card out of your purse and march straight to the door on your right.

six months ago you would have hesitated. six months ago you would have knocked politely, with a cup of coffee, a muffin, and a kind smile. 

now, you slap the key against the scanner aggressively. as soon as it turns green, you push down the handle and lean heavily on the door to let yourself in. 

you scrunch your nose as you step over a pair of sloppily discarded high heels, slipping your own off and pushing both pairs aside with a stocking-clad foot. then you venture into your boss’ apartment, deciding to deal with the blonde scrolling through her phone on the couch first.

“you need to leave,” you tell her dispassionately, picking up what you assume is her clutch and tossing it into her lap. “this isn’t a bed and breakfast. mr. von hagen has business to attend to.”

you wait impatiently as she looks you up and down, taking in your office ensemble along with the identification card hanging from your lanyard. 

relenting, she lets you herd her out the door without protest, but not before handing off all her contact information in case your boss ‘wants to have fun again.’

you take the little slip of paper (noting the lipstick kiss in the corner), then slam the door in her face. 

monday mornings are always the same. 

after kicking out sunday’s trash, you grab some aspirin and a glass of water, heading for the master bedroom.

predictably, marius is still passed out. you find him practically spread-eagled in the bed, with only a thin top sheet protecting his modesty. 

you’ve learned the hard way that marius sleeps nude, but seeing his toned chest and abdomen, along with the neatly trimmed trail of hair leading below the sheet never fails to make you catch your breath…

you squeeze your eyes shut, telling yourself to snap out of it. he’s your boss, the man who signs your paychecks and is the cause of some of your biggest headaches to date. 

“sir,” you whisper harshly from the doorway, reluctant to move closer. when you don’t get a response, you call out to him again, this time at a normal volume. much to your chagrin, his cute sleeping face - mouth slightly parted, brows scrunched - remains unchanged. 

huffing, you step around last night’s clothes and empty liquor bottles to rip the curtains open, letting the morning sunshine stream into the room. this action makes marius stir, groaning tiredly as he lays a hand over his eyes. 

“sir,” you say again, with more force this time. “you have a consult with the legal team in a half hour.”

“the legal team…” he mutters, still refusing to pry his eyes open. 

he continues to grumble uselessly into his pillowcase, clearly intending to make your job as difficult as possible. 

…until you check your watch and decide that you can’t waste anymore time coddling him, so you take the half filled glass of water and dump it over his head. 

he jerks up with a sputter, glaring at you as he swipes the ice water out of his face. 

“there are nicer ways to wake a guy up, you know,” he huffs, shaking the water out of his hair. 

you set the glass down, sighing. “if you want to be babied, sir, you should call vincent.” 

he mumbles something you’re sure is rude under his breath, pushing wet bangs out of his face before asking, “where’s maia?”

“first of all her name is–” you check the note you’d scrunched in your pocket. “–mia and she left her cell number, home number, and the number of the strip club she works at.” you hold it out to him, humming. “very classy, sir.”  

he doesn’t even look at it, so you crumple it back up and stuff it into your pocket. 

“yikes. i don’t know why she bothered. i already gave her the speech.” he shrugs, clearing his throat as he recites, “‘last night was incredible. you’re a great girl, but right now in my career–’” 

“‘i just can’t give you the relationship you want or deserve,’” you finish, having heard him recycle the practiced line to multiple other hookups in the last three months.

“hey, you memorized it!” he exclaims, lifting his hand for a high five. he lowers it when he sees your unimpressed look. “wrong crowd, i see that now.”

rolling your eyes, you turn around and open the door to his closet, grabbing a set of clothes that costs more than your rent and laying them over your arm as you call over your shoulder, “when i took this job, i didn’t expect to deal with the pussy parade. be honest, are you in some kind of competitive sex tournament?”

“i’m young and single!” he reasons, catching the boxers you throw at his head and quickly slipping them on. “i’m allowed to sow a few oats.” 

everyone in the office knows that it’s really about the lawyer from themis getting engaged. 

you’ve seen the way marius used to look at her, seen the plain adoration that used to shine in his gaze. it’s why ever since news of her engagement, you go through this every monday— when she comes in to help him navigate the confusing reports and updates of confusing legalese.

his behaviour these past few weeks was a coping mechanism. an unhealthy one, obviously, but who were you to tell that to the president of a multi-billion dollar company?

“whatever you say, sir,” you shrug, shoving the pants and button down into his arms. “get changed. i’ll call vincent and have him let everyone know we’re on our way.” 

you step out of the bedroom to let him get dressed, deciding to make yourself busy by starting the coffee maker. as the scent of freshly ground beans fills the penthouse, you take a moment to pull out your phone and double-check your boss’ calendar. 

after the meeting with legal, his schedule is relatively clear. only a handful of things you need him to review, along with a spot of press. it’s a relatively easy monday, by all means.

it’s then that berry decides to make an appearance, the adorable russian blue leaping up onto the counter and meowing insistently to get your attention. smiling, you reach out to scratch lightly under his chin.

“what are we going to do with him, huh?” you whisper, scooping him up into your arms. content purrs rumble against your palm as you stroke his fur. 

“traitor,” marius scoffs, entering the kitchen. you glance over your shoulder to see him looking somewhat put together. not only is his shirt still untucked, but his hair is still messy and wet and you’re positive he’s still sweating tequila. 

he ignores the fresh coffee in favour of grabbing a carton of orange juice from the fridge. he unscrews the cap, flicking it onto the counter so he can take a swig. 

“unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath. marius  glances over at you, wiping the corner of his mouth with sleeve before holding the carton out to you. 

“what? you want some?”

you push it away with a fingertip. “no, thank you.”

he shrugs, screwing the cap back on and shoving it back into the fridge. you and berry watch with equally unimpressed looks as he rummages through the oversized pantry, resurfacing with a box of cereal. 

you turn to open a nearby cabinet, grabbing a bowl. 

but in those few seconds, he’d already ripped the box open and was scooping cereal out with his hands, pouring handfuls into his mouth. 

this is it, you think as he gets crumbs all over his nice shirt. this is what marius von hagen looks like when he hits rock bottom. 

_____

you barely make it to the meeting on time. 

the whole team is already seated, ready to begin. marius - with the mcdonald’s iced coffee that’d almost made the two of you late in hand - takes a seat at the head of the conference table. 

your boss is surprisingly alert despite the fact that his brain is currently steeped in alcohol. he takes notes, asks appropriate questions, makes thoughtful suggestions. it’s one of the things you respect about him. he is a professional first and foremost.

“it seems that’s all for today,” he says once the last subject has been covered. “if there are any other questions, please keep them to yourselves.”

with that, he makes his grand exit.

well…he was a professional most of the time.

you're quick to jump in when the room fills with dissatisfied murmurs. “if you have any questions, please direct them to vincent or myself so we may raise them with mr. von hagen at a later time."

with that, everyone carries on with their day. you head back to your desk with an armload of paperwork for marius to look over and sign. you read the first few pages as you walk, already working out a summary in your head.

you make it to your desk just in time to see rosa following marius into his office.

chatting in his office after a meeting is a fairly common occurance. rosa comes by to help review whatever contracts his staff of corporate lawyers had drawn up, or walk him through any topics confused about.

your phone buzzes with a message from marius.

[marius]: come get me in five to say that we’ll be late for lunch.

what isn’t common is for him to do that.

but you do as he says, knocking politely when the five minutes are up.

“come in!”

“sir,” you begin after sending rosa a small wave. “we’ll be late for lunch if we don’t leave now.”

“lunch?” the young lawyer echoes, sounding confused. “it’s hardly 10am.”

marius clicks his tongue, closing the folder on his desk. “well, you know what they say. early worm gets the worm.”

“that’s not at all correct—”

he’s already nudging you out the door, a respectful hand resting on the small of your back as he guides you away from his office. “see you later, miss!”

“what are you doing?” you ask, feeling your face heat up as you become the object of your coworker’s confused stares. “i have work to do—”

marius pulls you into an empty conference room, closing the door behind you.

“rosa invited me to her engagement party this weekend,” he says, tone clipped.

you’re not quite sure where he’s going with this. “shall i pick out a gift?”

“no, i’ll take care of that,” he tells you. then, with a growing smile that almost always means he’s up to something, he asks, “what are you doing this saturday?”

“i—”

“trick question. i’d like you to accompany me as my date.”

[youmenotyummy]

Heloo! I loved reading you "sharing a bed" trop it was amazing 😭 would you mind if i request one with the tot men? 🥺

Your work stays awesome as always 😭😭

hearts sealed by starlight

✦ artem wing. luke pearce. marius von hagen. vyn richter. x gn!reader

✦ tags: sharing a bed (completely SFW, although slightly suggestive jokes are made in marius' part) + various tropes. slight spoilers for luke's part if you've never played through his personal story.

artem wing *. ⋆ fake dating relationship

"ARTEM?" your tentative voice comes out as a whisper of sound.

artem hums in response. it was beginning to feel like, somehow, the silence had gotten louder now that you were both settled in for the night — with you occupying the bed, and artem laying on his makeshift cot on the floor.

your head pops out from above, and you look straight into his eyes with what seemed like surprise.

"you haven't fallen asleep." a statement, not a question.

work had been exhausting, to say the least. on the other hand, he was uncharacteristically wide awake despite the fatigue he'd accumulated throughout the past few days.

artem sighs through a smile. "it appears you haven't as well."

a beat. then, "would you like to come up and talk?"

"about?"

"anything, really!" your head peeks further out in your sudden burst of excitement, the blanket around your shoulders slipping. "let's just think of this as a sleepover. we can even share the bed!"

his forehead creases, "we never discussed, nor drafted a written testimony, should an event like ... bed-sharing occur during our agreed time together within the scope of our contract."

"artem, it's fine. it's not like i would file a lawsuit against you." you shook your head, laughing. "i probably wouldn't win anyway. so, come up."

he frowns. if he was being truly honest, the contract and terms were there more for his sake, since artem doesn't really know if he could control himself around you without them in place.

but then you're already scooting over, and he finds himself swiftly slipping in beside you.

the sheets rustled as adjustments were made, and you both soon realized with slight, sinking, horror that the bed was much smaller than you anticipated — evident in the way your skin inevitably brushed against his with every movement.

you clear your throat, offering him a sheepish smile. "i think people will definitely believe our story now ... but you still seem worried."

"although i do trust the judgment of celestine and my peers, i sometimes wonder if i'd gone too far in trying to protect my reputation," he admits quietly. "i'm likewise ashamed for involving you like this."

aside from the strain that came regularly with his responsibilities, artem found himself under extreme pressure and criticism from his environment.

somehow, being single while he neared his thirties labeled him as "unreliable and untrustworthy", and the firm subsequently saw a decline in clients.

this unfortunate reality is what brought him to you. by agreeing to become his pretend (keyword being, pretend. other synonyms included: fake, not real, an act) romantic partner, artem would be able to secure his image.

"hey. we do what we need to survive." you slid a hand across the bed and threaded your fingers with his. "and also, i've never been this happy before. so, i want you to stop burdening yourself with guilt."

he swallows, trying to ignore the warmth that spread from your touch and your voice — so soft and incredibly kind.

artem throws an arm over your stomach, keeping you as close as possible. skinship and other forms of physical contact were deliberated upon prior to this entire scheme, although nothing in your agreement explicitly stated that these had to be made only within public view.

artem only hopes you don't report him for taking advantage of this loophole. "you might fall off," he reasons out.

fitting yourself against the length of his body, your answering smile is warm, sweet, and playful. "swear to fall with me?"

"i swear," he vows, and nothing more is exchanged between you that night. when the moon rises high enough to peek through the clouds, you've already fallen fast asleep in his arms.

and artem stays awake throughout, wondering if he should someday reveal the truth of his worries.

what he expressed earlier wasn't a complete lie, but truthfully, he's becoming less concerned with preserving his name the longer he spends in your presence and focusing more on figuring out how to keep you as his.

because artem no longer cared if this was all fake, as long as he could stay by your side.

luke pearce *. ⋆ reluctant allies to lovers

"you never said anything about us sharing a room," LUKE snaps brusquely, trapping the phone between his ear and his shoulder. "i only agreed to this because you insisted that we could find a potential cure around here."

"just think of it as a vacation! you don't need any added stress, so don't worry about it and have fun. but not too much fun, if you catch my meaning. also, try to keep your hands to your —"

luke promptly ends the phone call as he steps back into the bedroom. two lamps had been left burning by the bedside tables, casting the space in a soft, warm glow.

you were already tucked into bed, cream-colored sheets dipping with the shape of your figure. you look up when he enters, setting the tablet in your hands aside. "was that doctor aaron?"

luke nods, dropping to the armchair. he rubs his forehead, trying to center himself. he's aware that he was being irrational, a far cry from his usual self.

the tension hanging precariously between you both wasn't the most ideal as well — another issue he admitted to being the cause for acting so cold and standoffish.

you purse your lips. "is something wrong? did he have any new leads?"

"no, no. he was just ..." playing matchmaker where his services were clearly unwanted, his mind provided. he coughs into his fist. "checking in."

an awkward silence ensues, one you break by nodding to where he was sitting. "okay ... are you sure you're comfortable sleeping there?"

"i've slept in a lot worse places. this is fine."

a sigh leaves your lips. "you don't have to. we can share, alright?" you propose, more forcefully this time. "i'd rather not have dr. aaron find out and scold me for not taking care of my patient."

ah, right. it wasn't unusual to find yourselves paired up frequently and you've played plenty of roles together in the past — albeit begrudgingly on luke's part.

and when you accidentally learn about his illness, you agreed to become his nurse/investigative partner as per the meddlesome doctor's request.

why? luke has absolutely no clue.

it takes all of his self-restraint to not glare at the bed, which would be the bane of his existence for the next ten hours.

"fine," he concedes. he lifts one side of the sheets, revealing your bare legs underneath. there wasn't anything remotely scandalous about your nightwear, but he squeezes the phone in his hands, terrifyingly similar to how a scandalized victorian woman would clutch her pearls.

he placed the gadget down with much more force than intended, and hopped into bed as quickly as humanely possible.

a cool palm — yours, he realizes — presses itself unannounced on his forehead, brushing away his bangs. he sits up jerkily, confident he was redder than a tomato.

"luke, you look like you're burning up. have you taken your medicine? how about some water?" you soothe gently, raising your hands to show you meant no harm. "or would you like me to leave? i can find somewhere else to stay the night, no problem."

and this is exactly why he dislikes working with you.

he doesn't even know you that well — has been trying not to learn more, has been doing his utmost to keep his distance — and yet, you relentlessly look out for him without making him feel as if he was glass.

and all luke wants to do is surrender.

he blew out another frustrated breath, stubbornly denying how you made him feel. it wouldn't be right. it wouldn't be fair. he shouldn't aspire for the bond between you to develop into something more.

not when he'd be leaving you too.

and so, he remains resolute in his decision to push you away — like all the other times in the past.

before you got too close. before his heart fell any further.

"it's nothing," he rasps, swinging a leg over the bed. "you should get some rest."

"do you ... want me to hold you?"

luke's entire brain halts, as does his attempt to escape. "wha — what?!" he sputters, heat climbing up even further on his cheeks.

"i heard it helps," you shrug. a yawn eclipses the next words that leave you. "doctor aaron said so."

he almost groans. luke should decline. conjure some sort of excuse or half-ass lie. drive the wedge between you even deeper than it already is — once and for all.

yet, when he clears the thickness lodged in his throat, something else comes out of his mouth entirely.

"yeah?"

you nod, motioning for him to come closer. "yeah."

he blinks. just this once, he convinces himself.

"okay." his nerves settle when he shuffles hesitantly into your waiting arms. his arms wrap around your torso as you settle back down on the mattress, burrowing deeper with his weight above you.

your hand starts carding through his hair, the sensation so relaxing that his eyes begin to droop shut. without thinking, he breathes you in, calming his heart in the process.

after a long while — when more stars eventually come out of their slumber and take their place in the night sky — you whisper, "are you feeling much better?"

he does. but that didn't mean he wanted to let you go.

"could we stay like this a bit longer?" he mumbles, lips grazing your collar bone.

you don't deny him. "sure, luke. as long as you want."

marius von hagen *. ⋆ arranged marriage

"you can take the left side," MARIUS offers, quietly going around the hotel room and flicking off the lamps.

you embrace the soft pillow in your hands a little tighter, trying to ease the nervousness quivering in your stomach. you find refuge in the queen-sized bed — which was ironic, considering that the bed was the last place you should be in given your present circumstances.

"is this another one of your cheesy pick-up lines?" you joke, attempting to lighten the subtly-charged air by adding, "because you're always right?"

the corner of his lips twitch the slightest before he shakes his head in amusement. "i am. but also because you always sleep on the left."

the sky had already deepened to a purple haze that reminded you of marius's gaze as you regard one another silently for a drawn-out beat.

your eyebrows draw up when his observation slowly sinks in, and you likewise couldn't help the suspicion that laces your tone. "i do? how do you know that?"

"you're my spouse." he shrugs easily. the bed shifts as he settles in next to you; the rustling of covers accompanying his movements. "these are things i should know."

you ignore the way your pulse trips over itself. instead, you flipped on your side to face him, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. "but we've never even ..."

marius raises an eyebrow, and the smirk that followed after spelled purely of mischief.

"what? slept together?"

at your appalled expression, marius tips his head back and bursts into laughter, his hair a splash of color on the satin sheets. you're certain the warmth surging up your neck could rival even the hottest of stars.

"why would you phrase it in that manner," you grumble, sitting up and smacking him playfully with a pillow.

it was true. you've been married for a couple of months now, but still slept in separate bedrooms. he'd generously offered you a space of your own at his own house, and you'd always managed to get adjoining rooms during business trips.

this time, however, your parents were adamant about finally sending you off on a honeymoon they planned and prepared for — much like your marriage, and everything else that concerned your relationship — when you both initially refused and made excuses to take one shortly after the wedding.

his arm shoots out to grab hold of the pillow, bringing it down to catch a clearer view of your face. he stares at you for a few seconds, his expression softening, but his smile never slips.

"i check on you every night whenever i arrive home from work."

oh.

oh.

"and despite how spacious the bed is, i somehow always find you taking up the left side," marius continues, completely unaware of how your heart just shot itself up your throat.

"it's not really meant for one," you answer breathlessly, awkwardly huffing out a laugh. your hands fiddle with the edge of the pillow, "maybe we should start ... you know."

"sleeping together?" he unhelpfully — and too cheerfully — supplies.

your entire face bursts into flames again, but you refuse to let it show. "yes. you're my husband." you stick your chin up, feigning nonchalance. "it's only natural for married couples to share a bed. it'll also allow us to become more comfortable with one another in the future."

he'd be yours for real, if only you knew, and if only you asked.

carefully, he brushes your cheek with his knuckles, the ring on his finger glinting in the dark. "if it's alright with you."

"it is." you lean into his touch. certain you won't be running away from him anytime soon, he opens his arms out to you.

you duck your head to conceal your smile, laying your cheek against the center of his chest.

"but only sleep. no funny business, mr. von hagen."

marius wonders if you could hear the beating of his heart sounding out your name.

"i would never. sweet dreams, mx. von hagen."

vyn richter *. ⋆ childhood best friends to lovers

a hesitant knock resounds on VYN's bedroom door. he glances at the grandfather clock, takes note of the time, and smiles inwardly.

it seemed like you'd never changed. 

"come in," he calls out.

the door creaks open, and your head peeks in first, your shoulders and the rest of your body obscured behind the polished wood.

"hey."

"good evening. was the bedroom not to your tastes?" he asks, something that sounded very similar to amusement lacing his voice.

embarrassment flickers across your face before your eyes narrow in defense. "no, you know exactly why i'm here. can i please stay?"

"you're very welcome to. come in," he repeats, already fixing the sheets and fluffing the pillows to your desired liking.

you finally step in, closing the door behind you and heading straight for his bed. he stifles a laugh when you flop down — ruining his handiwork — and pat the space next to you.

he complies, although he settles in much more gracefully. "i presume you were experiencing some difficulties falling asleep?"

"it's nothing new." you nod, throwing the duvet covers across both of you. it flutters down similar to a butterfly's ceasing wings, cocooning you together.

"you're aware that i am a licensed psychiatrist, right?"

"how could i ever forget your two doctorate degrees?" you snort, rolling your eyes playfully. "you only mention them like — all the time."

he chuckles, lightly pinching your nose. "do not play smart with me," he tuts fondly, evading your attempts to swat his hand away.

you tackle him into an embrace instead, which he reciprocates. when you've both quieted from your fit of laughter, his hand moves to rub circles on your shoulder blade.

"still, you know that i can help you with this." he urges, more earnestly now.

you shook your head. truth be told, your response is one he's already predicted, but it wouldn't hurt to try and convince you once more. convince you like he's done for several years already.

"you're my best friend. i don't want you to take a look inside my brain. that's just weird and scary," you'd whispered to him on an evening similar to this. only this time, the features he's long memorized on your face were a whole lot younger. 

"why not?" vyn prods. "it wouldn't change anything."

"you can't promise that. not when there might be something truly wrong with me. or even worse, you'll bear witness to pieces of me that might lead you to regret ever becoming my friend." 

'impossible. i adore you too deeply, and cherish our memories together too fondly, to ever consider any part of you unsightly,' he'd wanted to argue back then. 

he only refrained from doing so and bit his tongue because that would mean upsetting the delicate thread in which your relationship hung.

it would mean crossing the line of platonic and leaving the safe barriers of "in-betweens". and vyn was not about to hastily gamble it all away with a poorly thought-out confession.

neither of you needed to say it aloud, but losing one another was yours, and his, greatest fear. 

"nah, s'okay. i fall asleep just fine whenever i'm with you." you yawn, bringing him out of his fleeting flashback while you snuggle deeper into his side — far too close to be "just best friends".

"really now?" he murmurs, masking the satisfaction that fills his heart and threatens to bleed into his tone. he presses you closer to his chest, his other hand wrapping around your waist, intent to hold you like he's done so, so many times before.

you hum, looking up at him one last time with a dazed smile on your face. "yeah. your bed is always much more comfortable than mine. maybe i should find one similar to yours."

or you can stay here, in my arms, forever, vyn thinks. he doesn't mind waking up with dead, aching, limbs for the rest of his life as long as your face was the first thing he woke up to each morning.

"sleep now," he tucks your head underneath his chin. "or else you'll keep me up all night with your rambling." 

"you adore my rambling," you add petulantly.

even though you never said the words to each other, both of you knew.

"i do. now, rest. wake me if you must," vyn says over your head. 

i love you. 

"mhm. good night, vyn."

i love you too.

✦ byeol’s notes: just to be clear, these were submitted waaay before i closed my requests. i worked on this quite late since i wanted to prioritize my event first, so i apologize for the exremely long wait!

✦ reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! thank you and ily ♡

[youmenotyummy]

artem.wing requested to follow you!

when you pull out your phone, you have to check the notification twice to make sure you’ve read it correctly. you even go so far as to tap it, watching curiously as your phone opens pax’s newest social media app.

this couldn’t possibly be your artem wing. your fellow senior partner at themis artem wing, who once called social media positively mind-numbing. 

but it is artem, a cursory glance at the profile picture confirms. not only is the picture he uses the exact same as his identification badge, but his account is already verified — no doubt due to his association with marius von hagen. 

you purse your lips in an attempt to stifle your laughter as you stalk study the rest of his profile. 

Artem Wing Senior Attorney at Themis Law Firm [email protected] (serious inquiries only)

it’s professional and clean, with all the aspects of an account made for business purposes. was this the firm’s latest marketing strategy? you really must have zoned out during the last staff meeting. 

smiling, you accept his follow request and send one back just as celestine returns from the restroom.

“who has you smiling at your phone like that?” she asks, taking a sip of her iced tea. “is it your secret boyfriend again? when are you going to let me meet him?”

you take a bite of your salad, shrugging. “i told you, he’s shy.” 

she sets her glass down, resting her elbows on the table. “yeah, but you’re always gushing about how sweet he is! you said he was a lawyer, right? is it howard syter? from baldr?”

last week, you’d let it slip that your secret boyfriend was also a lawyer. since then celestine and kiki had been hurtling name after name at you, trying to guess his identity. 

it’s not like you wanted to keep his identity a secret forever. it was just that the two of you were happy in this little bubble of yours. the gentle, intimate mornings spent swaying in each other’s embrace to his morning coffee playlist. the private date nights at his apartment that are spent cooking dinner together. 

“ah,” celestine giggles. “you’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?”

you try and fail to fight the heat crawling up your neck, thankful when your phone chimes with a notification in your bag. 

“it might be about my civil suit,” you tell her, eager for the distraction. 

you dig your phone out of your bag, checking the notification. 

artem.wing tagged you in a post

your heart skips a beat, and you hesitate before tapping the notification.

_____

artem looks up when his office door is thrown open. he’s glad to see that it’s you, even if you’re wearing that look on your face, the one you put on when you’re crossing a witness in court.

“mr. wing,” you greet tersely. “do you have a moment?”

he rises from his seat and buttons his suit jacket, smiling. “for you, always.”

“oh, stop being cute,” you mutter. “why did you tag me in your thirst trap?”

“thirst trap?” he echoes, genuinely confused.

“artem,” you whisper harshly. “you posted a shirtless picture of yourself at the gym and tagged me in it! now everyone will know that we’re dating!”

“but my account is on private,” he frowns. “and i only tagged you…”

“everyone you let follow your account can see that picture!” you explain. “that includes celestine, jeremy, kiki, rosa, luke, dr. richter, marius—”

this is the last time he’ll ever let marius von hagen peer pressure him into anything. 

“so…you didn’t like the photo?” he asks, rounding his desk to stand in front of you. he seems entirely unfazed by this ideal, despite the fact that everyone on his follow list has now seen his abs.

you seem taken aback by his question, avoiding his gaze. “i didn’t say that…”

you both startle when celestine pounds on the glass wall of his office, holding up her phone. 

“i knew it!” she shouts through the glass. her shouting draws the attention of kiki, rosa, and just about every other employee in the firm. 

you’re absolutely mortified, but artem simply takes your hand, pressing a kiss to the backs of your fingers before pulling you in to wrap his arms around you. 

you don’t fight him, simply sighing deeply and hiding your face in his chest as celestine cheers loudly. 

“i’m sorry, love,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “next time i’ll send my ‘thirst traps’ directly to you via text.”

“you owe me,” you mutter, but you’re smiling as he presses a kiss to the side of your neck, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. 

“i suppose now we have to take that very romantic walk down to hr.”

_____

themariusvonhagen: ARTEM???? 

themariusvonhagen: DAMNNNNNN 🔥🔥🔥🔥

celestinetaylor: @ themislawfirm please please please repost this on our story for the free advertisement

[youmenotyummy]

"Neeee.. give me a 5 letter word that begins with "Su" and ends with "Ki" " He says, looking down at you, laying on his lap.

"For what..?" You ask groggily, hand shielding your eyes from the sunlight as you look up at your boyfriend.

"Just because!"

"Let me think... 炊飯器 [ suihanki ] ?"

You feel his torso shake as laughter erupted from your lover. "A rice cooker? Seriously?! Pfhahahahahah!"

"You didn't mention any theme for the word!" You sit up and shuffle through the grass to face him, who kept laughing at what he'd asked for.

"Alright, alright.." He clutched his chest as he settled down.

"4 letters." "Hold on.."

You look at the ground, thoughts retracing to s restaurant you passed by on the way, a drawing of a hot pot meal in the nabemono style on the chalkboard with the large writing of their specialty.

You snap your fingers. "すき焼き [ sukiyaki ] !"

"Hungry are we?"

"Shut it."

"Let me guess, 3 letters?"

"Ding! Ding! Ding! Bingo!"

"Let's see.. 3 letters.." "素敵.. [ suteki ] ?"

"Hm.. Lovely, just like you"

"Cheesy." You tease, unimpressed with his attempt to flirt.

"Now 2!" He seemed persistent, as if he had a goal to achieve from this.

"...好き [ suki ] ?" You look at him with confusion as he cradled your cheek with his hand and joined your lips with his, into a soft kiss.

"I like you too."

‧₊˚✩ ‧₊˚

Kaminari Denki, Nishinoya Yuu, Tanaka Ryūnosuke, Sugawara Kōshi, Tōru Oikawa, Marius Von Hagen, Luke Pearce, Mammon, Arataki Itto, Shikanoin Heizou, Venti, Tartaglia, Xingqiu, Tanjiro Kamado, Hanako

[youmenotyummy]

+ series summary: as marius von hagen’s assistant, it’s your job to accompany him to certain public functions. you’re used to being in the background, but this time? the event is an engagement party, and he doesn’t need an assistant. he needs a date.

as soon as the elevator opens to the penthouse floor, you pull the key card out of your purse and march straight to the door on your right.

six months ago you would have hesitated. six months ago you would have knocked politely, with a cup of coffee, a muffin, and a kind smile. 

now, you slap the key against the scanner aggressively. as soon as it turns green, you push down the handle and lean heavily on the door to let yourself in. 

you scrunch your nose as you step over a pair of sloppily discarded high heels, slipping your own off and pushing both pairs aside with a stocking-clad foot. then you venture into your boss’ apartment, deciding to deal with the blonde scrolling through her phone on the couch first.

“you need to leave,” you tell her dispassionately, picking up what you assume is her clutch and tossing it into her lap. “this isn’t a bed and breakfast. mr. von hagen has business to attend to.”

you wait impatiently as she looks you up and down, taking in your office ensemble along with the identification card hanging from your lanyard. 

relenting, she lets you herd her out the door without protest, but not before handing off all her contact information in case your boss ‘wants to have fun again.’

you take the little slip of paper (noting the lipstick kiss in the corner), then slam the door in her face. 

monday mornings are always the same. 

after kicking out sunday’s trash, you grab some aspirin and a glass of water, heading for the master bedroom.

predictably, marius is still passed out. you find him practically spread-eagled in the bed, with only a thin top sheet protecting his modesty. 

you’ve learned the hard way that marius sleeps nude, but seeing his toned chest and abdomen, along with the neatly trimmed trail of hair leading below the sheet never fails to make you catch your breath…

you squeeze your eyes shut, telling yourself to snap out of it. he’s your boss, the man who signs your paychecks and is the cause of some of your biggest headaches to date. 

“sir,” you whisper harshly from the doorway, reluctant to move closer. when you don’t get a response, you call out to him again, this time at a normal volume. much to your chagrin, his cute sleeping face - mouth slightly parted, brows scrunched - remains unchanged. 

huffing, you step around last night’s clothes and empty liquor bottles to rip the curtains open, letting the morning sunshine stream into the room. this action makes marius stir, groaning tiredly as he lays a hand over his eyes. 

“sir,” you say again, with more force this time. “you have a consult with the legal team in a half hour.”

“the legal team…” he mutters, still refusing to pry his eyes open. 

he continues to grumble uselessly into his pillowcase, clearly intending to make your job as difficult as possible. 

…until you check your watch and decide that you can’t waste anymore time coddling him, so you take the half filled glass of water and dump it over his head. 

he jerks up with a sputter, glaring at you as he swipes the ice water out of his face. 

“there are nicer ways to wake a guy up, you know,” he huffs, shaking the water out of his hair. 

you set the glass down, sighing. “if you want to be babied, sir, you should call vincent.” 

he mumbles something you’re sure is rude under his breath, pushing wet bangs out of his face before asking, “where’s maia?”

“first of all her name is–” you check the note you’d scrunched in your pocket. “–mia and she left her cell number, home number, and the number of the strip club she works at.” you hold it out to him, humming. “very classy, sir.”  

he doesn’t even look at it, so you crumple it back up and stuff it into your pocket. 

“yikes. i don’t know why she bothered. i already gave her the speech.” he shrugs, clearing his throat as he recites, “‘last night was incredible. you’re a great girl, but right now in my career–’” 

“‘i just can’t give you the relationship you want or deserve,’” you finish, having heard him recycle the practiced line to multiple other hookups in the last three months.

“hey, you memorized it!” he exclaims, lifting his hand for a high five. he lowers it when he sees your unimpressed look. “wrong crowd, i see that now.”

rolling your eyes, you turn around and open the door to his closet, grabbing a set of clothes that costs more than your rent and laying them over your arm as you call over your shoulder, “when i took this job, i didn’t expect to deal with the pussy parade. be honest, are you in some kind of competitive sex tournament?”

“i’m young and single!” he reasons, catching the boxers you throw at his head and quickly slipping them on. “i’m allowed to sow a few oats.” 

everyone in the office knows that it’s really about the lawyer from themis getting engaged. 

you’ve seen the way marius used to look at her, seen the plain adoration that used to shine in his gaze. it’s why ever since news of her engagement, you go through this every monday— when she comes in to help him navigate the confusing reports and updates of confusing legalese.

his behaviour these past few weeks was a coping mechanism. an unhealthy one, obviously, but who were you to tell that to the president of a multi-billion dollar company?

“whatever you say, sir,” you shrug, shoving the pants and button down into his arms. “get changed. i’ll call vincent and have him let everyone know we’re on our way.” 

you step out of the bedroom to let him get dressed, deciding to make yourself busy by starting the coffee maker. as the scent of freshly ground beans fills the penthouse, you take a moment to pull out your phone and double-check your boss’ calendar. 

after the meeting with legal, his schedule is relatively clear. only a handful of things you need him to review, along with a spot of press. it’s a relatively easy monday, by all means.

it’s then that berry decides to make an appearance, the adorable russian blue leaping up onto the counter and meowing insistently to get your attention. smiling, you reach out to scratch lightly under his chin.

“what are we going to do with him, huh?” you whisper, scooping him up into your arms. content purrs rumble against your palm as you stroke his fur. 

“traitor,” marius scoffs, entering the kitchen. you glance over your shoulder to see him looking somewhat put together. not only is his shirt still untucked, but his hair is still messy and wet and you’re positive he’s still sweating tequila. 

he ignores the fresh coffee in favour of grabbing a carton of orange juice from the fridge. he unscrews the cap, flicking it onto the counter so he can take a swig. 

“unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath. marius  glances over at you, wiping the corner of his mouth with sleeve before holding the carton out to you. 

“what? you want some?”

you push it away with a fingertip. “no, thank you.”

he shrugs, screwing the cap back on and shoving it back into the fridge. you and berry watch with equally unimpressed looks as he rummages through the oversized pantry, resurfacing with a box of cereal. 

you turn to open a nearby cabinet, grabbing a bowl. 

but in those few seconds, he’d already ripped the box open and was scooping cereal out with his hands, pouring handfuls into his mouth. 

this is it, you think as he gets crumbs all over his nice shirt. this is what marius von hagen looks like when he hits rock bottom. 

_____

you barely make it to the meeting on time. 

the whole team is already seated, ready to begin. marius - with the mcdonald’s iced coffee that’d almost made the two of you late in hand - takes a seat at the head of the conference table. 

your boss is surprisingly alert despite the fact that his brain is currently steeped in alcohol. he takes notes, asks appropriate questions, makes thoughtful suggestions. it’s one of the things you respect about him. he is a professional first and foremost.

“it seems that’s all for today,” he says once the last subject has been covered. “if there are any other questions, please keep them to yourselves.”

with that, he makes his grand exit.

well…he was a professional most of the time.

you're quick to jump in when the room fills with dissatisfied murmurs. “if you have any questions, please direct them to vincent or myself so we may raise them with mr. von hagen at a later time."

with that, everyone carries on with their day. you head back to your desk with an armload of paperwork for marius to look over and sign. you read the first few pages as you walk, already working out a summary in your head.

you make it to your desk just in time to see rosa following marius into his office.

chatting in his office after a meeting is a fairly common occurance. rosa comes by to help review whatever contracts his staff of corporate lawyers had drawn up, or walk him through any topics confused about.

your phone buzzes with a message from marius.

[marius]: come get me in five to say that we’ll be late for lunch.

what isn’t common is for him to do that.

but you do as he says, knocking politely when the five minutes are up.

“come in!”

“sir,” you begin after sending rosa a small wave. “we’ll be late for lunch if we don’t leave now.”

“lunch?” the young lawyer echoes, sounding confused. “it’s hardly 10am.”

marius clicks his tongue, closing the folder on his desk. “well, you know what they say. early worm gets the worm.”

“that’s not at all correct—”

he’s already nudging you out the door, a respectful hand resting on the small of your back as he guides you away from his office. “see you later, miss!”

“what are you doing?” you ask, feeling your face heat up as you become the object of your coworker’s confused stares. “i have work to do—”

marius pulls you into an empty conference room, closing the door behind you.

“rosa invited me to her engagement party this weekend,” he says, tone clipped.

you’re not quite sure where he’s going with this. “shall i pick out a gift?”

“no, i’ll take care of that,” he tells you. then, with a growing smile that almost always means he’s up to something, he asks, “what are you doing this saturday?”

“i—”

“trick question. i’d like you to accompany me as my date.”

[youmenotyummy]

Shooting stars 🌠