NOVA

ceo!fuma who on your first day of the job licked his lips and stared at you through the one-way tinted glass walls of his office. you couldn't see how his eyes lingered, cock twitching in his jeans. "god, you're so fucking perfect."

ceo!fuma who when other coworkers would get too close to you, he'd call you into his office for a meeting, making up some bullshit that sounded believable when you were there. you never gave it a second thought. he just wanted them to stop undressing you with their eyes, something only reserved for him. "could you make a few copies of this document for me, please?"

ceo!fuma who stayed late sometimes, just to come in his hands as he imagined bending you over his desk and stuffing you full of his cock. "shit– that's it. fuck! right there, baby. you're so good to me."

ceo!fuma who finally had enough, asking you to stay late to help him with an assignment. of course, it was a lie, and you ended up sitting on his desk as he tasted your pretty little cunt, making you come over and over again. "oh my god, angel, you taste like heaven."

ceo!fuma who from that moment forward, filled your perfect mouth with his cock during office hours, forcing you on your knees to hide underneath his desk when people entered into his office. "thank you, k– that's perfect– yeah, you did amazing on the assignment."

ceo!fuma who finally had your chest pressed against his desk, cock pistoning in and out of you from behind, arms wrapped around your waist to reach your clit with his fingers, thumbs circling it hard while he filled you deep. you came seven times that night. "you like it when i fill your pretty little pussy with my cum baby, hm? you like squirting all over my cock, don't you?"

ceo!fuma who wanted to show you off to the world, not giving a fuck about the taboo status of your relationship. "yes, she's my girlfriend. no, it won't interfere with our work, stop bothering me."

ceo!fuma who took you out for expensive dinners, then fucked you in the limousine right after, back arching off the leather seats as he filled you up. "take all of me, baby– fuck!"

ceo!fuma who made you two sneak out during work parties, splitting you open in the hallway where anyone could see you if they turned the corner. "so perfect, falling apart on my cock when anyone could show up. does knowing someone could be watching make you wet? do you want that, hm?"

The city never truly slept—but at this hour, it pretends to.

Rain glazed the streets in a thin, glassy sheen, catching the glow of neon signs and stretching them into something unrecognizable beneath your feet. 

Every step you took sent quiet ripples through shallow puddles, the sound almost too loud in the stillness. It was the kind of silence that pressed in on you, heavy and expectant—like the world was holding its breath.

You didn’t trust it. You never trusted the quiet.

Your boss walked beside you, unhurried, composed in a way that made it seem like this was nothing more than another routine meeting. His coat hung neatly over his shoulders, movements precise, controlled—never wasted.

You, on the other hand, were already calculating exits.

Your position was instinctive—half a step ahead, slightly angled, close enough to intercept anything that came too fast or too close. 

It wasn’t something you had to think about anymore. Your body had learned it long before your mind caught up.

Protect first. Think later.

The warehouse came into view slowly, its outline jagged against the dim skyline. One flickering light above the entrance. One open door. No visible guards.

That was the first warning.

The second was the feeling in your chest—tight, coiled, the kind that never lied.

“Stay sharp,” your boss murmured, barely audible.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to.

You were already listening—to the hum of electricity, the distant drip of water somewhere inside, the subtle shift of air as you crossed the threshold.

The temperature dropped immediately.

Cooler. Denser.

And beneath it—

Metal.

Not fresh. Not sharp.

Old.

Your gaze swept the interior in one smooth motion—crates stacked unevenly, shadows stretching long under the weak lighting, empty space where there shouldn’t be. Too open. Too exposed.

A setup.

“You’re late.”

The voice cut through the silence without effort.

Low. Even. Controlled.

It didn’t echo. That meant he wasn’t far.

You turned before your boss could, your hand already moving—gun raised in a single, fluid motion, aim locking onto the source without hesitation.

And there he was.

Choi San stood partially in shadow, leaning against a stack of crates like he had been there long before you arrived—and like he had nowhere else to be. His posture was relaxed, almost careless, but there was nothing careless about the way his gaze settled on you.

Not on your boss. You.

Like he had been expecting it.

The faint flicker of light caught along the edge of his jaw, tracing the line of a scar you hadn’t noticed in photos. It made him look sharper. More real.

More dangerous.

Your finger hovered just slightly over the trigger.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t reach for a weapon. Didn’t even look surprised.

“And here I thought,” he said, voice quieter now, edged with something you couldn’t quite place, “you’d be the patient one.”

Your grip tightened.

“Move,” you said flatly.

It wasn’t a request.

A beat of silence stretched between you.

Then—slowly—he pushed himself off the crate.

No sudden movements. No attempt to provoke.

Just deliberate. Measured.

Like he was giving you time to react.

Your boss stepped forward then, his presence shifting the air behind you. “We’re not here for theatrics,” he said calmly.

San’s attention flicked to him for the first time—brief, assessing—before returning to you just as quickly.

“Pity,” he murmured. “I thought this might be interesting.”

You didn’t lower your gun. Neither did the tension.

The negotiation started, but it didn’t feel like one.

Words were exchanged—territories, shipments, boundaries neither side intended to respect for long—but they blurred at the edges of your awareness. 

You tracked movement instead. Breathing. Weight shifts. The subtle tightening of hands that might reach for weapons.

And San—

San watched you too.

Not openly. Not obviously.

But you felt it.

In the way his gaze returned, again and again, like a question he hadn’t decided how to ask.

Eventually, the conversation ended the way these things always did—unfinished, unresolved, balanced on a line thin enough to snap at any moment.

No deal. Just delay.

You were the last to move. Always the last.

Your gun lowered a fraction too late, your stance easing only when your boss turned their back completely. 

It was calculated—intentional. A silent message.

You don’t get a second of vulnerability. Not from me.

When you finally stepped away, you didn’t look back.

But you felt it.

That gaze. Lingering.

You told yourself it was nothing.

That the weight in your chest as you walked away was just adrenaline settling, your body coming down from the edge it had been pushed to. 

You’d been in worse situations. Seen worse men.

San was just another name.

Another target. Another problem to solve.

So why—

“Something on your mind?”

Your boss’s voice pulled you back, sharp enough to cut through the spiral before it deepened.

“No,” you said immediately.

Too quickly.

He noticed. Of course they did. He always did.

But he didn’t press.

“His group is shifting,” he says instead. “Closer than before.”

“I know.”

“And?”

You hesitated—just for a second.

“He’s testing,” you said finally. “Not attacking. Not yet.”

Your boss studied you, unreadable. “And what do you think that means?”

You thought of the way he had looked at you.

Not hostile. Not cautious.

Interested.

Your jaw tightened slightly. “It means he’s waiting for something.”

“Or someone,” your boss replied.

The implication settled heavily between you.

You didn’t respond.

After that night, the city felt… different.

Not visibly. Not in ways anyone else would notice.

But you did.

Routes that used to be quiet weren’t anymore. Corners that should’ve been empty felt watched. Information came slower. Cleaner. Like someone was filtering what reached you—and letting the rest disappear.

San’s influence.

You didn’t need proof. You could feel it.

“You’re slipping.”

The words came from one of your own men during a late patrol, quiet but pointed. You didn’t react immediately, your gaze still scanning the street ahead.

“I’m not,” you said.

He didn’t sound convinced.

“You’ve been off since that meeting.”

You stopped.

Turned. Slowly.

He stiffened under your gaze, the weight of it enough to make him reconsider speaking further.

“Do your job,” you said evenly.

He nodded. Didn’t argue.

No one ever did twice.

But the words stayed with you. Because part of you knew—

He wasn’t entirely wrong.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

The next time you see San, it isn’t planned.

It never is.

The alley is narrow, the kind that traps sound instead of letting it escape. Water drips steadily from somewhere above, each drop echoing just enough to mark time.

You’re alone. You shouldn’t be.

But you are.

And you feel him before you see him.

A shift. A presence.

Something that doesn’t belong—but doesn’t feel entirely unwelcome either.

“Careless.”

Your breath stills.

You turn slowly, controlled, your hand hovering near your weapon but not drawing it.

San stands a few steps behind you, half-shadowed, exactly where you didn’t expect him—and exactly where he wanted to be.

“You’ve been following me,” you say.

“Would it matter if I was?”

“Yes.”

A pause.

Then, almost amused—“Then no.”

You exhale quietly, unimpressed. “You’re not as subtle as you think.”

“And you’re not as unaffected as you pretend.”

That lands closer than it should.

You take a step back, creating space without breaking eye contact. “Say what you came to say.”

He doesn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he studies you.

Not like before. Not distant. 

Closer. Intent.

“You’re loyal,” he says.

It isn’t a question.

You frown slightly. “That’s not your concern.”

“It could be.”

“You’re not recruiting me.”

A faint smile touches his lips. “No.”

He steps closer.

One step. You don’t move.

“Then what do you want?” you ask, quieter now.

His gaze flickers—not away, but down, briefly, tracing the line of your stance, your hand, the tension you haven’t released.

“To understand,” he says.

You almost laugh.

“Wrong line of work for that.”

“Only if you misunderstand what you’re looking at.”

Silence stretches between you again, thicker this time.

Closer.

“You’re wasting your time,” you say.

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Then why haven’t you left?”

Your breath catches—just slightly.

Enough.

You don’t answer. Because you don’t have one.

San watches the realization settle in your expression, something unreadable flickering through his own.

“Be careful,” he says quietly.

Your brows draw together. “Is that a threat?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

A pause.

Something shifts—subtle, but real.

“A warning.”

And before you can stop him—

Before you can ask why—

He steps back.

Distance returning like a wall snapping into place.

And then he’s gone.

Leaving behind nothing but the echo of his presence—

And the uncomfortable truth that you didn’t want him to be.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

The first time it goes wrong, it doesn’t feel like a mistake.

It feels inevitable.

You know something is off the moment the call comes in—too rushed, too clean, too perfectly timed. 

A shipment compromised. A location leaked. Your boss moves quickly, assembling a team before questions can slow anything down.

And you follow. Of course you do.

Loyalty has never been something you questioned.

Not until now.

The building is smaller than expected. Abandoned. Too quiet. Even the air feels still, untouched.

A trap.

You signal it immediately, but it’s already too late.

Gunfire erupts from above.

Sharp. Sudden. Precise.

Your body reacts before your mind does—you move, stepping in front of your boss, dragging them down behind cover as bullets tear through the space where they stood seconds before.

“Ambush!” someone shouts.

You don’t have time to think about who set it up.

You already know.

San.

Or at least—

That’s what it’s supposed to look like.

The fight is chaotic. Controlled, but brutal. Your side retaliates quickly, but the advantage is gone. You’re pinned, forced to calculate every movement, every shot.

You fire twice. Three times.

A body drops. Another.

Your boss shifts beside you. “We need an exit.”

“I know.”

You glance around—windows boarded, doors blocked, routes limited.

Too limited. They planned this.

Which means—

A shot cracks too close.

You turn—

Too late.

The bullet isn’t meant for you. It’s meant for your boss.

You move anyway.

Instinct. Always instinct.

Pain explodes through your side, sharp and blinding as the impact throws you back against the wall. Your breath stutters, vision flickering as sound dulls for a split second.

But you stay standing.

You always do.

Your boss grips your shoulder. “You’re hit—”

“I’m fine.”

You’re not. But it doesn’t matter.

You push forward, forcing movement, forcing control back into your limbs despite the warmth spreading under your clothes. “Go,” you tell them. “Left corridor—there’s a back exit.”

“And you?”

“I’ll cover.”

He hesitates.

Just for a moment.

Then he nods.

Trust. It’s always been there.

He moves. You don’t watch them go.

You turn back to the fight instead, raising your gun again, ignoring the way your hands aren’t as steady as before.

One more shot. Two.

Footsteps—

Not yours. Not your team’s.

Familiar.

You don’t need to turn to know. But you do anyway.

And there he is. Choi San.

Not at a distance this time. Not watching.

Here. Up close.

Your chest tightens—not from the wound.

From something worse.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you manage.

His gaze drops immediately to the blood seeping through your side, his expression tightening in a way you’ve never seen before.

“This wasn’t my doing,” he says.

You let out a weak, breathless laugh. “Convenient.”

“I mean it.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

Another gunshot rings out somewhere behind him, but he doesn’t move.

Doesn’t look away.

“I warned you,” he says, quieter now.

You swallow, forcing yourself to stay upright. “Then your warning came too late.”

Something flashes across his face—anger, sharp and sudden, but not directed at you.

“At them,” he mutters. “This isn’t how this was supposed to—”

He cuts himself off.

Your eyes narrow slightly. “What does that mean?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he steps closer.

You raise your gun.

Out of instinct. Out of habit.

But your hand—

Your hand trembles. And he sees it.

San stops. Just within reach.

His gaze flickers between your eyes and the weapon pointed at him, then slowly, deliberately—

He reaches forward.

And lowers it.

You don’t stop him. You should. You don’t.

“You’re bleeding out,” he says.

“I’ve had worse.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

You almost smile. Almost.

Another shot echoes—closer now.

Time is running out.

“Go,” you tell him. “Before your people find you here.”

“They won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

Your vision blurs slightly, the edges of the world softening in a way that feels dangerous.

“You should hate me,” you say quietly.

“I tried.”

The honesty in it hits harder than anything else.

You shake your head weakly. “You’re bad at it.”

“So are you.”

A pause. 

Heavy. Final.

Then—

He moves. Fast.

One arm wraps around you, steadying your weight before you can protest, pulling you firmly against him as he starts moving toward the back exit you’d pointed out earlier.

“What are you doing—”

“Saving your life.”

“I didn’t ask—”

“I know.”

That shuts you up.

You don’t have the strength to fight him anyway.

Each step feels heavier than the last, your body struggling to keep up, but he doesn’t slow. Doesn’t hesitate.

By the time you reach the exit, your vision is fading.

The last thing you register is the sound of rain again, and the feeling of his grip tightening, like he’s not willing to let you go.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

When you wake up, it’s quiet.

Not the suffocating kind.

The soft kind. Safe.

For a moment, you don’t move.

Don’t think. Just breathe.

Then it hits you.

You sit up too quickly, pain flaring through your side, forcing a sharp inhale as your surroundings come into focus.

A room.

Clean. Unfamiliar.

Not yours. Not your boss’s.

“Careful.”

His voice. Closer than expected.

You turn.

San sits a few feet away, sleeves rolled slightly, a faint stain of dried blood still visible near his cuff.

Yours. Your pulse stutters.

“You kidnapped me,” you say.

“You were dying.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one that matters.”

You stare at him, trying to piece together what this means, what this changes.

Everything. It changes everything.

“They’ll come for me,” you say.

“I know.”

“And you’re just… waiting?”

“Yes.”

Your breath catches slightly. “Why?”

He doesn’t look away.

Because you matter, is what the silence says.

Because I couldn’t walk away.

But what he says is—

“Because I’m tired of pretending this is just business.”

The room feels smaller. Quieter.

“San—”

“Stay,” he interrupts, softer now.

Not a command. A request.

“I can’t.”

“I know.”

Another pause.

“Then let me make this easier for you.”

Your chest tightens.

“That sounds like a bad idea.”

“Probably.”

A faint smile.

Tired. Real.

“But I think you’re worth it.”

You look at him then—really look—and for the first time, he doesn’t feel like an enemy.

Not fully. Not anymore.

And something dangerously close to yours.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

They do come for you. Of course they do.

But by the time they arrive, you’re already standing.

Already healed enough to make a choice.

Your boss meets your gaze across the room, sharp, searching.

“You’re coming back,” he says.

It isn’t a question.

You glance at San. Then back.

Silence stretches.

Everything hangs on it.

“I’m not leaving,” you say.

Your boss stills.

San doesn’t move. Neither of them interrupt.

“I’ll still protect what matters,” you continue. “But I’m not doing it your way anymore.”

The tension snaps.

Not into violence. Into something quieter.

Acceptance. Understanding. Loss.

Your boss exhales slowly, nodding once.

“Then don’t die,” they say.

It’s the closest thing to permission you’ll get.

You nod back. And that’s enough.

Later, when the city settles again into its restless quiet, you find yourself standing beside San at the edge of a rooftop, the skyline stretching endlessly ahead.

Different sides. Same view.

“You made a dangerous choice,” he says.

“So did you.”

A pause.

“Do you regret it?”

You think about it.

About everything. About loyalty. About blood.

About the moment you didn’t walk away.

“No,” you say.

And for the first time—

It feels true.

San hums softly beside you, something lighter settling into the space between you.

Not peace. Not yet.

But something close. Something earned.

And when his hand brushes against yours—hesitant, uncertain—you don’t pull away.

You let it stay. Because some things aren’t meant to be clean.

Some things are meant to be chosen. 

Even when they cost you everything.

© lcvejjoong, 2026

But before you could move, you felt a muscular arm draped around your waist and your forehead resting against a firm chest. You slowly lifted your head, blinking away the scraps of sleepiness and as your eyes adjusted to the dim light of the lamp behind you, they landed on the sleeping face of your boyfriend.

His plump lips were pushed into a faint pout, and one of his cheeks was squished against the pillow, making him look far softer than he usually did. A few strands of messy hair had fallen on his forehead and the adorable sight made you smile.

Carefully, not wanting to wake him, you lowered your head once more and settled comfortably against his arm. The warmth and the slow rising of his chest surrounded you again, and his arm instinctively tightened around your waist as he buried his face deeper into your hair.

But as if he sensed your movements earlier, he let out a soft whine. "Y/n...?" he mumbled, voice deep with hours of sleep.

A fond smile immediately spread across your face.

"Hm...?" You answered softly.

His nose scrunched slightly against the pillow.

"...Hi" The sleepy greeting was so random and adorable that a quiet laugh slipped from your lips. "Hi, bunny."

You nuzzled closer against his chest, your cheek sinking into the soft fabric of his shirt. "Wake uppp" You whined playfully. A low groan rumbled from his chest.

"Noooo..."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

You tilted your head back, smiling so hard, to look at him, cheeks growing warm with love, only to meet his half lidded eyes looking down at you, filled with nothing but love.

His hair was a complete mess, Cheek still had pillow marks pressed into it.

"I love you... so much." He shifted closer and presed a lingering kiss against the top of your head and when he pulled away, he rested his chin on top of your head. The rain continued its steady patter against the windows like a lullaby while the bedroom remained wrapped in warmth and comfort. His arms remained wrapped around you while yours rested against his chest, still tracing different shapes.

"Bunny..." you whispered softly, your voice barely audible over the sound of rain. He hummed, his fingers running through your hair.

"Yes, my angel?"

The nickname made your heart bloom with affection.

"I love you more."

A quiet chuckle escaped him. He pulled back to look at you properly. His hand found your chin, his gentle touch tilting your face upward.

"That can't be true, though. I love you more than anything?" A sleepy smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Then he leaned down, pressing his lips against yours for 5 seconds. When he pulled away, a shy smile appeared on his face and he leaned down again to press a quick peck.

The sight below him made his heart swell with happiness and overwhelming joy.

His entire world was cuddled up to his chest, tucked safely in his arms like the cutest doll. You looking up at him through your lashes with an innocent shy look. A pretty pink shade decorated your cheeks, trying and failing to hide your shyness.

Carefully, he brushed a loose strand of hair away from your face, "You're adorable, you know that?"

You buried your face in his chest with a whine and his laugh echoed through the room.

He laughed at you before wrapping both arms around you. "Good night, adorable."

"....Good night."

why do i feel like this is too boring...

‘oh, yeah i did. it’s in that drawer.’ he stated, motioning over to the place he just mentioned. you took a look in that direction, then back at him. 

the aforementioned drawer in which the mixer was currently situated was the one just conveniently out of your reach. 

yudai saw your disappointed face and couldn’t hold in his laugh, almost as if it was the funniest thing he had ever done — all meanwhile you stood there, surprised at how an almost thirty year old man could still pull pranks as stupid as this one.

‘will you get it down for me now that you’ve executed your brilliant prank?’ you mumbled, arms crossed over your chest as you stared up at him.

‘hm’ he hummed, seemingly deep in thought for a few long seconds. ‘i might need a kiss or two to convince me.’

you sighed but went for it anyway — leaning closer to your boyfriend, feeling his hand sneak to your waist as you gave him two quick pecks, both on the lips. but that didn’t seem satisfactory to yudai, the man shaking his head. 

‘i think i require a few more. maybe five will do?’ he said, voice laced with humour as he stared down at you.

‘you’re impossible.’ you mumbled.

‘and yet you love me.’

this time it was him who leaned closer, giving you better access to his lips in the process. you closed the gap swiftly, counting each kiss in your head. upon the fifth one, right as you were about to pull away, yudai deepened the kiss — doing so with practiced ease, hand pulling your body closer to his. 

normally, you wouldn’t have fallen for his antics. but this time, you decided to humour him — your large sized boyfriend with the heart of a kid. 

MURATA FUMA <𝟑 .ᐟ

with each passing second, you were growing more and more frustrated with murata fuma’s existence. or, to be more precise, with his ability to be good at everything.

especially video games.

the two of you were sitting on the carpet, backs resting against the sofa, controllers in hand as you both stared at the tv screen, trying your best to pass the level you were currently at. problem was, this game was supposed to be played by two people — which meant joint efforts, needing both players to do their parts to pass. and you were not having a particularly good day. 

‘why is this game so fucking hard?’ you mumbled to yourself, fingers swiftly moving from the buttons to the thumbsticks as you tried hard to help fuma defeat the boss you were currently fighting. both of your characters had different tasks to do for it to be possible — it just so seemed your character’s task was that much harder. 

‘we can switch controllers, love.’ fuma’s voice was soft and melodic as he spoke, gaze switching from the tv to your frame for a second. ‘i have the easier task, maybe that’ll help us get through this one, hm?’

but your pride wouldn’t let you — so you shook your head in response, your grip on the controller just a tad bit tighter, posture suddenly straightened as you focused on the tv even more. and yet time after time, try after try, you just couldn’t get it right. so, with frustration filling your chest, you tossed your controller towards fuma. 

he gave you a warm smile before taking it in his hands, offering you his own instead, your fingers brushing against his as he handed it to you. the two of you locked back in almost immediately — wanting to get this boss fight over with once and for all. 

murata fuma, perfect at everything he ever touched, did the task you’ve struggled with for the past hour on his first try. and suddenly you didn’t want to play anymore. 

the screen went black, the game switching into a cutscene and your boyfriend immediately sensed your dissatisfaction. he shifted closer to you, putting the controller down on the floor, his hands reaching out to envelop you in his arms. you let him — feeling the smell of his cologne taking over your senses, his touch warm and comforting in this moment of frustration.

‘you still did amazing.’ he murmured, face nuzzled in your hair. ‘i’m proud of all your efforts, whether they brought in results or not.’

‘you could’ve left that last bit out, fuu.’ you said, looking at him with a frown on your face. fuma chuckled, leaning in to kiss you on the nose.

‘forgive me, my love.’ he mumbled. ‘just wanted to see that cute frown of yours.’

BYUN EUIJOO <𝟑 .ᐟ

‘do you have to copy me?’

euijoo, who currently sat across from you, only chuckled at your words — the paintbrush laying careful strokes on the ceramic, trying his best to make the design he envisioned in his head look as good as possible. he broke his focus for a second and looked your way, a smile forming on your face as he noticed your focused expression, eyes fixated on the mug you were currently painting. 

‘i’m not. you’re painting fish and i’m painting an octopus.’ he stated simply, eyes falling back down to his creation. ‘i’m afraid they’re completely different creatures, my love.’

‘they’re both sea creatures.’ you murmured, more so to yourself than to him, a sulky expression on your face as you continued painting. ‘you copied my terrain. copycat.’

‘it is actually quite a common theme when painting on ceramic.’ euijoo’s voice was still as calm as ever, hands working with precision. ‘even in that video we took the idea from, the lady was painting a dolphin. so, come to think of it, it is actually you who copied her first.’

normally, you would’ve ignored his comment and continued painting, or maybe hit him with a snide remark, continuing the banter between you and your boyfriend. this time, however, you decided to take a different approach.

you dipped your paintbrush in the blue paint prepared beforehand as the base of your drawing — then reached out to smear it all over euijoo’s cheek, a cold sensation against his skin. he looked up at you with surprise in his eyes, his expression quickly changing as he shook his head in disbelief. 

‘you’re unbelievable.’ his voice was soft and steady, almost serious; and yet you could still see the way his hand moved towards his paints, the way he was trying hard to contain himself from grinning. next thing you knew, your face was covered in paint too — a big, purple dot right in the middle of your forehead. 

from that moment on, it was an all out war — your ceramic mugs long forgotten, paintbrushes like swords in your hands as you tried your best at slashing your boyfriend and opponent with different shades of blue, different hues of greens and yellows. euijoo didn’t go down without a fight either: dealing precise, colorful attacks to your skin. 

you tried to catch him off guard, wanting your paintbrush to hit him directly on his nose and yet he was faster. euijoo caught your hand mid movement: stopping your attack before you were able to hit him, his eyes staring down at your smaller frame now standing mere centimeters in front of him. his plan for a counterattack was simple. 

a kiss — to plead an end to this colorful war, and a wordless apology for what had caused it.

WANG YIXIANG <𝟑 .ᐟ

the sink was filled with dishes — so many of them, in fact, that you were surprised you'd managed to accumulate this many. even more so when considering the fact that it was only you and nicholas living there. but alas, you had no time to spare for thinking and wondering about just how this mess came to life. it was better to take care of it right away and get it over with. 

unfortunately for you, your boyfriend seemed to have other plans. 

his arms were wrapped around your waist the moment you stepped in front of the sink, face nuzzling in the side of your neck as a low hum left his lips. you tried pushing him off, but to no avail — his grip was like a koala’s, wrapping around you with no intention of letting go anytime soon. 

‘nicho, i need to clean these up.’ you murmured, feeling his lips press gentle kisses against the side of your neck and collarbones. you tried taking a step forward, hands reaching for one of the dirty plates, his hold was far too strong to allow you to do so. ‘i’m being serious. if i don’t do it now, the pile will only grow larger.’

‘oh, but you cooked such a delicious dinner for us, angel.’ nicholas said quietly, his breath tickling your skin. ‘you deserve some rest. let’s have a nap, hm?’

‘but-’

‘no buts. i can see you’re tired.’ he stated, voice now more firm and yet still quiet and gentle in its own way, the man turning you around in his arms in one swift motion. ‘i’ll take care of the dishes when we both wake up, how does that sound?’

your gaze met his and nicholas couldn’t help but smile at the sight — the love of his life standing right in front of him, wrapped in his arms. a nod from you was enough for him to pick you up, one hand under your shoulders while the other rested under your knees. he carried you to your shared bedroom with ease, putting you down on the soft bedding carefully, the mattress slightly bending under your weight. 

he positioned himself next to you quickly, body gluing to yours the moment he laid down. nicholas let out a satisfied hum as he felt you nuzzle into his touch, his muscles immediately loosening as he let himself enjoy this moment of rest. his lips reached to plant a sweet kiss on your forehead before he closed his eyes, hands wrapping around your waist almost on instinct.

you didn’t even realise how quickly you dozed off to sleep — but when you woke up, the sink was empty, and all the dishes were squeaky clean.

NAKAKITA YUMA <𝟑 .ᐟ

when it came to classic romantic gestures in relationships, yuma wasn’t exactly the best. 

your relationship with him has been mostly built on a friendship you shared beforehand — and the same traits you shared when being just friends had transitioned into this new situation almost naturally. the daily banter, the rivalry in everything you two had touched, the neverending stream of snarky remarks made about one another (with love, of course). but despite all that, yuma knew when it was the right time to tone it down and change his behavior to cater to your mood — and when he’d seen you going through the most tiring week you could’ve possibly imagined, he knew it was the time to do just that. 

you came back to your shared apartment: exhausted and mentally drained, hoping for nothing more than some well deserved rest. the place was unusually quiet, especially considering that yuma was already home — which would usually be well known by the tv playing in the living room or the music blasting from the speakers. this time however, it was silence.

your first instinct told you that maybe he’d be late today, so you headed straight for the bedroom; the smallest smile on your face as you thought about finally getting to lay down, all your muscles painfully sore. you opened the door slowly but firmly, one hand on the handle while the other reached to take the few stray strands of hair away from your face.

and there you found him — your boyfriend, in your bed, waiting for you with a smile on his face and your favorite blanket in hand. the moment you saw him there, your world became a little brighter, the worries of the entire week suddenly disappearing into the void. 

he was there, waiting for you like a cat for its owner, already having made himself comfortable on the bed.

‘join me for cuddles?’ he asked, voice honey sweet and slightly nasally. you didn’t say anything — just plopped down on the bed right next to him, the soft mattress bending under your weight, yuma’s arms immediately reaching to wrap around you. his hands found yours, fingers intertwining in a sweet gesture as he nuzzled closer to you in an almost cat-like manner, humming in satisfaction at finally having you close to him. 

your muscles, previously tensed up, have finally relaxed — your body easing into his touch, an action as natural as breathing. 

‘thank you, yuma.’ you mumbled quietly, voice barely above a whisper. ‘i really needed this.’

‘i know, love.’ he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your neck. ‘you should get some rest now. i’ll run you a warm bath later, how does that sound?’

you turned your head just enough to look at him, eyes locking with his.

‘perfect.’

ASAKURA JO <𝟑 .ᐟ

your boyfriend was perhaps the most clueless boy you have ever met — especially so when it came to affection. 

maybe it could’ve been blamed on the fact that your relationship was still fresh: both of you were still learning the ropes of sharing a life together, of having someone so dear to your hearts. That might’ve been the reason. or maybe it was just the fact that asakura jo, god bless him, could only focus on one thing at once. 

and your need for attention just so managed to unfortunately overlap with his drawing time. 

you stared at him from the other side of the couch — admiring his side profile, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the way his brows furrowed just slightly when he was focusing, each stroke of his pencil intentional and almost calculated, as if striving for nothing short of perfection with his current drawing. jo, completely in his own world, didn’t even notice your gaze on him, nor did he notice that the movie you had previously chosen for yourself to watch has been paused. 

he felt the weight of your head resting on his lap, and only then did he actually avert his attention from his work in progress to you — eyes immediately softening upon meeting yours, lips curving up into a shy smile. 

‘need anything, my love?’ he asked, voice nothing above a whisper. you nodded and jo’s head tilted to the side just slightly. ‘oh, and what is it?’

‘you.’

the tips of his ears turned red in no time.

‘oh. i- i’m sorry, i didn’t realise…’ he mumbled, face heating up from embarrassment, gaze flicking from your face to the drawing, then back to you face. you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight — finding his sudden shyness the most endearing view in the world. 

you nuzzled closer to him. jo’s hand reached towards your hair — running his fingers through it and playing with the strands ever so gently, earning a satisfied hum from you. he smiled, almost unconsciously, like a habit reserved for whenever he’d spent time with you. you were his life’s joy, after all: it was hard not to smile whenever his eyes laid upon you. 

jo leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead: then another one to your nose, both of your cheeks, your chin, before finally ending it with a final, almost sickeningly sweet kiss on the lips. 

‘happy now?’ he asked, eyes catching yours. you thought about your answer for a while — making sure to make your expression as exaggerated as possible and earning a laugh from him.

‘not yet.’ you finally answered, shaking your head. ‘you might have to give me some more kisses.’

jo chuckled, his cheeks beautifully reddened. 

‘will do.’

SHIGETA HARUA <𝟑 .ᐟ

harua was fully, wholeheartedly sure that the facemasks he had bought would look cute on both of you. they had animal patterns, after all!

both of you have had a rough week behind you — with work and schedules so tightly packed you had little to no time to properly rest, you suggested an afternoon of unwinding. a calm, sweet way for the two of you to spend some quality time together, relaxing in each other’s presence all while recharging your batteries for what was to come next week. truly a perfect plan.

and yet the moment harua took his facemask out of its packaging, he could immediately tell something was off. the pattern showcased on the front of the plastic was in no way similar to the one on the sheet mask — in fact, it bore little to no resemblance to the animal it was supposed to represent. 

‘oh.’ he mumbled quietly, the facemask resting in his hands. ‘i expected it to look… different.’

you stared at the sheet mask in his hands, then at the graphic on the packaging — and bursted out laughing.

‘put it on, please.’ you pleaded, trying to hold in your laughter as much as you could. ‘i need to see it on you.’

‘only if you put yours, too.’ he argued. 

so you complied — the two of you ending up in facemasks with very poorly made designs of a cat and a bunny respectively, material headbands resting atop your heads to hold all your hair from getting in your face.

‘you can’t laugh.’ harua mumbled, trying to smooth out the sheet mask on your face. his fingers were gentle and his touch was light and careful. ‘you’re not supposed to move your facial muscles too much, or the mask will be uneven.’

‘i’m trying my best, rua.’ you said, forcing yourself to stop grinning at your boyfriend. the look in his eyes was serious — but paired with the pink headband and that atrocious face mask you just couldn’t treat him as such. ‘you just look like a moron. i can’t help it.’

even with his face currently covered in full by the face mask, you could still see the frown forming on his lips.

‘alright. no kisses for you tonight, then.’

‘oh, come on, that’s cruel!’ you argued, arms wrapping around your boyfriend’s frame as you latched onto him. ‘gimme just one. Please.’

‘no.’

‘pretty please.’

‘still no.’

‘extremely pretty please?’ 

harua looked at you — or rather at the cat facemask covering your skin — and smiled just slightly, the upcurve of his lips barely noticeable. but you caught it. 

‘see, i knew you’d agree!’

the boy sighed, smile not leaving his lips as he leaned in to plant a soft kiss on yours. after all when it comes to you, he’d always cave in eventually.

TAKAYAMA RIKI <𝟑 .ᐟ

you could feel the delicious smell of food from the moment you entered the apartment — the aroma spreading across all of the living room and kitchen area all the way to the hall, making your mouth water almost instantly.

oh, what a blessing it was to have a boyfriend who loves to cook.

taki was standing in the kitchen when your eyes finally found his frame. his back was facing you, the boy humming a quiet melody as he worked on something you couldn’t quite see, but could definitely feel the smell of. upon hearing your steps, he turned around immediately — his lips immediately curving up into a smile, eyes sparkling with excitement at the mere sight of his partner finally back at home. 

you gave him a quick, soft kiss, mumbling a quick ‘hello’ under your breath as you let taki wrap his arms around you, caging you in his presence with the warmest of hugs, one you waited for and thought of all day at work. it was your favorite part of the day — no matter what time either of you came back home, no matter how tired, you could always count on getting comfort and affection in the purest of forms. 

‘i’m making you food.’ he mumbled, motioning over to the pan currently on the stove. ‘it’s that recipe you said you wanted to try.’

‘i think i just fell even more in love with you.’ you stated, eyes sparkly with adoration and excitement. you leaned in closer, chest pressing against his as your lips touched his and taki couldn’t help but smile into the kiss — his hands falling lower and resting on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. 

taki allowed himself to indulge in this moment of pleasure, practically melting under your each touch as his lips moved against yours in almost perfect harmony. he led you towards the kitchen counter, your back resting against it as he caged you with his presence. 

and then he heard a weird, hissing sound coming from right behind him. 

‘shit, the food.’ he mumbled, quickly turning around towards the stove and turning it off. thankfully, the ingredients weren’t burnt — which you could see by taki’s reaction, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. 

you giggled slightly at the situation, watching the way taki checked whether nothing happened to the pan, whether no part of the food was even slightly overcooked. had that been the case, he would start everything all over again: after all, you deserved only the best. 

‘no kisses from now on.’ taki stated, trying to sound as serious as possible, even though he knew that if you tried kissing him again he wouldn’t stop you. ‘not until i’m done with the food, that is.’

you couldn’t help but smile — letting your boyfriend focus on his cooking, knowing you’d get all the affection you’d want once he’s done.

HIROTA RIKI <𝟑 .ᐟ

the sassy man apocalypse has been a nightmare spreading around at an alarming speed. it just so happened that your boyfriend maki might’ve been a victim, too — which became ever so apparent whenever he’d ask you to take his pictures.

‘you’re holding it at the wrong angle, ugh.’ he whined, changing his pose for the picture. you only chuckled at his antics, slightly adjusting the phone in your hands, looking at him in disbelief. ‘i love you to death, but i should ask nicho next time.’

‘okay mr. know it all, show me how you’d angle the phone then.’ 

maki obliged happily, taking his own phone out of his back pocket and showcasing the exact position he expected from you for best quality pictures, looking somewhat like an eccentric photographer trying to explain how to get his good side, how to make sure you don’t make him look even one inch shorter than he actually is. the instant switch between explaining and posing for the camera was almost comical, making you giggle at your boyfriend's actions — but you took the pictures the way he wanted to nonetheless. you decided to check them all once you’re at home, seeing as the weather was getting cloudy and the rain was just about to start. 

maki settled on the couch right next to you, arm mindlessly wrapping around yours as he stared at the pictures he had instructed you to take. they turned out… questionable, to say the least.

‘that angle is-’

‘terrible?’ you cut him off, lips already curving up into a satisfied grin because once again, you were right. or rather, to be more precise, he was wrong — which filled you with even greater joy. 

‘yeah.’ maki huffed out, the frown on his face deepening with each swiped picture, brows furrowing in annoyance at each failed attempt, each picture unworthy of gracing his instagram’s feed. he couldn’t help but sigh. and then he got to the pictures you took of him before his ‘brilliant’ directions threw you off your game. 

and god, were they perfect. 

you smiled proudly, straightening up on the couch as you carefully watched his reactions to each picture — the way he slowed down his swiping process, the corners of his lips tilting upwards ever so slightly so as not to give you too much satisfaction. his eyes drifted towards you for a quick second, then right back to your phone. you didn’t even have to say anything.

‘alright.’ he admitted, a defeated tone in his voice. ‘you’re good at taking pictures. sorry i doubted you.’

you giggled with triumph, giving your boyfriend a quick kiss on the cheek. 

‘better thank nicholas?’ you asked playfully, nudging his shoulder.

‘yes.’ he mumbled, nuzzling closer into you, fingers intertwining with yours. ‘but don’t tell him that. he might kill me if he hears that.’

perm taglist: @nichozzystuffs @woonhakfeet @ivehan @haorangis @choco-scoups @littlegummystar @mxriitaesz @luvkeiiii @ikigaijo

&team taglist: @starshuas @minhosimthings @makizdoll @ricewithjo @deerhuntings @livelaughloveseventeen

he took one last look at himself and smiled — cheeks rising ever so slightly, a soft sigh leaving his lips. today he was going to see you. after an abundance of busy work days taking over his entire days, sometimes even nights, he was glad to finally be able to meet you, to talk to you, to tell you the stories circulating around the office he’s worked at.

the two of you were never exactly a perfect couple to begin with, but what had always mattered to both of you was the determination and drive to do better — for the urge to become a better person and by association a better partner far exceeded any thoughts of giving up on the connection you two had. it was far too precious for the two of you to let go of, far too precious to let it go to waste this easily. each argument, which there were many of, cut through your skin like a knife designed specifically for you — dipped in poison to make the ache grow stronger, to make the pain linger for longer. and yet, despite it all, your love remained tender, pure, even: the poison from the knife kissed away with each apology, each reassuring word coming from yuma’s mouth like a prayer, a promise to you and to the world that he will become someone who’s worthy of having you. worthy of the love you provided him with, worthy of the connection he so desperately longed for. his progress was undeniable with each passing day — arguments becoming less frequent, replaced with small acts of love, reminders of his devotion and dedication.

humanity has always been full of flaws, and yuma has been aware of that ever since he first learned that his parents had lied to him about the existence of santa claus and the easter bunny. no human has been born without flaws — but to find one who was willing to change them, to fix them solely because of love was a difficult endeavour. and yet somehow, the universe has led two such individuals to one another: yuma and you, a pairing seemingly meant to be, meant to stay together and get their happy ending despite the hardships, despite the world’s cruel intentions. in all timelines, in all possibilities, in all lifetimes.

just not this one.

yuma sat quietly across from you, flowers in one hand, the other smoothing down his shirt. the previous bouquet he had brought you had already wilted — his face contorting into a frown at the sight, eyes flicking between the old and new one. he picked it up, gentle fingers switching the flowers for new ones, making sure to add water so they don’t die down too quickly, don’t wither away.

‘i missed you.’ he mumbled, voice quiet, laced with a hint of sorrow, and yet he smiled at you nonetheless. ‘i’m sorry i haven’t been able to visit these past two weeks. work has been crazy stressful lately — project deadlines, too many meetings to count. i hope you don’t mind that, my love.’

you stared back at him from across — or rather your name engraved in stone, the letters written down neatly with a font he had picked out, two dates placed right below the writing. the words were almost painful to look at: to think that they slipped from his tongue every day without fail, always followed by a confession of love, a proclamation of his undying devotion. now, cold and distant, they have remained but a hurtful reminder of what could’ve been.

but that pain didn’t stop yuma from visiting. had he the chance, he would’ve stayed there permanently — humoring you with stories and anecdotes from his life, bringing up old memories to ponder on. the need to see you far transcended any possible hurt.

he had grown accustomed to the silence on your end — he learned to function in it, to enjoy it even. and so he kept talking, about everything and nothing, really — about how euijoo and nicholas almost broke the printer last week, about how an old lady had moved next door to the apartment you once shared, about the new menu at your favorite restaurant. his words didn’t stop flowing for his love for you was still alive and thriving: bittersweet, that’s for sure, but a feeling he wouldn’t, no, couldn’t let go of nonetheless. nothing could ever stop him from loving you, not even death itself.

and when his flow of words had stopped and the stories have reached their end, he stayed there anyways — existing in the silent presence of you, the closest he would ever get to holding you in his arms again.

perm taglist: @nichozzystuffs @woonhakfeet @ivehan @haorangis @choco-scoups @littlegummystar @mxriitaesz @luvkeiiii @ikigaijo

&team taglist: @starshuas @minhosimthings @makizdoll @ricewithjo @deerhuntings @livelaughloveseventeen

james who cuts off all tags on any piece of clothing he purchases for you before folding them nicely back into the gift bag.

james who knows exactly what materials to avoid when purchasing clothes, shoes, towels, and practically anything that you touch.

james who carries stimming and fidget toys in his bag when the two of you go out, just in case they might come in handy.

james who covers your ears when you forget your headphones and the environment is too loud. the event is long forgotten as the two of you are in his car and you’re situated in his lap. your face is buried in his neck as his warm hands block out all the unnecessary noise.

james who knows exactly what to say, when to speak and when to keep silent during your meltdowns - he helps you through them, letting you cry and scream to get everything out of your system before you’re regulated again.

james who has no problem when you become non-verbal. on the days you need silence, he has no problem communicating through whatever form you feel most comfortable with. on the days you need the silence to be filled, he has no problem rambling on about random topics just to see a small smile on your lips.

james who loves the order and rules you have for things. sure, they were a little different to adjust to, but he never considered them weird or a bother. everybody has their preferences, why wouldn’t he accustom to the ones belonging to his loved one?

james who doesn’t call out your stimming in prevention of causing you uneasiness. he continues his explanation about a tiktok he saw as you flap your hands, tap your fingers against the table, rock back and forth, or even repeat a silly line you heard on your show. whatever your form of self-stimulatory behaviour is for the day doesn’t change anything, he simply carries on with what he was doing with you as you manage your sensory input. after all, working together always brings success.

james who doesn’t hesitate to cuss the fuck out of anybody who has the audacity to insult or judge who you are. it doesn’t matter where you guys are, he’ll ensure everybody knows not to run their mouths. of course, he’ll ask you to cover your ears and guide you to a quiet spot before doing so - he would never overwhelm you like that.

james who doesn’t judge you, who knows your diagnosis doesn’t define you. he will always encourage you to be yourself even on the days where it feels like everything is against you and you’re against everything, even on the days where it feels like your diagnosis is the cause for things that make you feel horrible.

james who loves you for who you are, and that is something that will never change.