Sara Min

Tokyo has always spoken to me, drawn me to it like a magnet, so it was the only option for me. A whole new country, a new world with new faces and new everyday struggles. The perfect place for a new beginning.

The rain is pouring down, raindrops knocking against the window front of my apartment, as i’m sitting on my white couch, endlessly scrolling through Instagram. It had been a rough few weeks, since I‘ve moved here, a lot of paperwork to do and the move itself was just a lot to put up with, but I managed to get it all sorted out and was finally able to just sit down and relax. I’ve saved enough money to pay for the apartment, the plane tickets and to get me through the first few months but I’m still looking for a job, to finally earn my own real money and get this new life rolling.

As I‘m scrolling through my explore page, lazily laughing at a view funny videos, I stumble across a post.

„VELVET LOUNGE. hiring floor staff“ was written in bold dark red letters. I clicked on it and it led me to a post of what seems to be a night club here in Tokyo, hiring new staff. I swipe to the next slide, giving me a little more information.

„High-end experience preferred. Night shifts only. High pay. Discretion required.“

It sparks my interest and I tap to read the caption.

„Velvet lounge night club - hiring new staff. Searching for bartenders and servers (f/m/d), experience preferred. Only night shifts with good payment.

Fill out the form linked in our profile‘s bio and become part of the velvet family!“

I do have some bartending and serving experience from former jobs I‘ve worked throughout my late high school and early college years. I finally click on their profile and the link attached to their bio, leading me to the website of the club, right to the application form.

I softly laughed at myself, shaking my head but still, I filled out the form, leaving my name, address and phone number and writing about myself in the free text field at the bottom of the page. I take a moment to think about it once more. My experience is definitely not „high-end“, and my idea of discretion was not telling my non-existent friends about me working at a night club, yet something still made me send the application, hoping for this to be an opportunity to get my finances stabilized.

As I hit the „apply“ button, the page turned white for a moment, only a „sent!“ being visible on the screen, before I was automatically taken back to the main page of the website. I explored the site, stumbling across a photo gallery filled with pictures of the club and its everyday nightlife. It seemed very expensive and classy, something way out of my league and doubts already started running through my mind.

I set my phone aside, looking out the window, watching the raindrops race each other down the front of the building, as lightning struck in the dark night sky. I sighed as I stood up, making my way over to my bedroom. The apartment I live in is nothing special, it’s located more on the edge of the city, a pretty calm and peaceful part of Tokyo. Its structure is simple, a small kitchen with a cooking island, being directly connected to an open living room with a sofa right in the middle of it, a small coffee table in front of it, both facing a wall with an average sized TV hangin on it and 2 shelves decorating the wall on the left and right side of it. Below the TV is another low shelf with a record player and some vinyl records on top of it. A gift from my mother.

As I’m walking through the living room, entering my bedroom to finally go to sleep after a long day of doing nothing, the faint sound of the rain is supported by the ticking of the clock on the wall reading 1am. I slip off my slides and make myself comfortable in my bed, closing my eyes.

I’m woken up by my phone ringing on the bedside table on my left hand side. I slowly stirr awake, rubbing my eyes, reaching over to grab the device, accepting the call without even looking who it is.

„Hello?“ I say, my voice still groggy from sleep.

„Y/n.“ I hear a low male voice calling my name.

I sit up in bed, still sleepy, not quite comprehending what’s happening. „Yeah?“

„Find yourself in the club tonight at 10pm. We‘re looking forward to meeting you. Don’t be late.“

And before I could say anything, the man already hung up and the only sound coming from my phone now is a low beeping that stops after a few seconds.

I set down my phone, rubbing my eyes one more time before finally realizing what had just happened. The club. My application. I was actually invited to a job interview this evening. Suddenly I‘m wide awake, processing the phone call I just received. I was relieved but also scared of what’s going to happen this evening. The man on the phone sounded very serious, almost intimidating and the way he delivered his message was kind of daunting but still intriguing.

By the time I finally got out of bed it was almost 10am. I made my way over to the small kitchen to have some coffee and a quick breakfast. The day went by surprisingly quickly, tonight’s job interview always being in the back of my head, basically keeping me in a constant state of excitement and nervousness.

The first time I saw the Velvet Lounge, it looked like something torn from a fever dream. A black, unmarked building wedged between a high-end hotel and a shuttered jazz-bar. No neon signs. No crowd. Just a velvet rope, a double door with gold trim and a man in a suit built like a wall, standing in front of it, intimidatingly.

„Name?“ he asked, not looking up from his clipboard.

„Uh.. y/n l/n“ I responded.

He scanned me from head to toe, nodded once, then opened the door with a simple „Don’t touch anything, unless you’re told to.“

Inside, it was like walking into another world. Dark walls shimmered like crushed amethyst. Light came in soft pinks and purples, bouncing off mirrors and low chandeliers. The music was slow, bass heavy, the kind you felt in your chest more than your ears.

I met a young woman in red stilettos at the bar, who introduced herself to me as Rika. She told me she’d been working here for nearly two years. She scanned me just like the security guy at the entrance did and finally closed our short conversation.

„Come back tomorrow night, same time. Dressed in black, minimum heels, no flats, hair up, no perfume and no questions.“

Then she turned on her heel and disappeared.

That was my interview.

I was taken aback by the quick and serious interaction, slowly turning around, leaving the club through the front doors. She didn’t even give me time to introduce myself, nor ask any questions about the job and the payment, which was very unusual and sparked feelings of doubt and regret inside of me. Though I was dedicated and always reminded myself that I need the money and it‘s only going to be a few months at max, or so i thought.

The following night was sleepless, the unsettling interaction from yesterday racing through my mind. The next day was nothing more than just staying home, trying to prepare myself for my first official shift at Velvet, going through my closet, searching for some suited clothing, reaching Rika‘s standards.

I find myself standing in front of my mirror in my small bedroom, fixing my collar for the fifth time. My black blouse is fitted but not tight, my black skirt barely reaching my knees. I applied only a little bit of concealer, mascara and a red lipstick, just like Rika had the other day.

I still don’t look like i belong.

But i’ll go anyway.

The rain had stopped hours ago, but the pavement still shone like glass, puddles reflecting the red neon signs like spilled blood. I kept my head down, fingers curled in the pockets of my oversized jacket. The city breathed around me — warm, wet air heavy with perfume and engine smoke. Somewhere nearby, a saxophone played from an open window above a shuttered sushi bar.

This wasn’t where i was supposed to be.

But then again, i wasn’t supposed to be anywhere.

Velvet is louder tonight. Busier. A typical friday.

I step inside, setting down my bag in the staff room before finally reaching the bar, where I’m met by Rika again.

The club was darker than it should’ve been. Velvet walls, low lighting, a bar lined with crystal and fire. Music that didn’t beg for attention but lingered beneath your skin. I had worn my only heels and a lipstick too bold for my comfort.

„You’ll shadow me tonight,” she said. “Don’t touch anything that sparkles unless someone puts it in your hand. And whatever you do, don’t stare.”

I didn’t ask what she meant.

By eleven, the club was full. Not packed — curated. Wealth, power, danger: all dressed in black, sipping slowly, talking low. I kept my eyes down and my hands steady. It was like walking a tightrope through smoke.

Up until now everything is clear to me, not very different from the bars I‘ve worked at so far.

The other girls don’t smile when I join them at the staff station. They don’t talk, unless it’s to say which tables are theirs. I’m given a small section - just three booths tucked into a quieter corner of the lounge floor.

My first few rounds are simple. Bottled water, a few cocktails and a round of beers, nothing very special. Everything is going surprisingly good so far, though the vibe still feels a little off, but that might just be because it’s my first shift and i don’t know anyone besides Rika, yet.

Most of the clients don’t really look at me. Some do - but not in ways that make you feel anything but small and watched.

Then i see him.

Sitting in a booth, along the upper balcony, a glass of something gold, probably a fine whiskey, between his slim fingers, one leg lazily crossed over the other. Oikawa Tooru.

I’ve heard his name whispered. Seen him glide through the club once or twice like he wasn’t walking but drifting. Some said he owned the place, others said he owned the people who did.

He doesn’t look real.

He’s too polished. Too pretty. Hair perfectly tousled. Tie loose like it’s a carefully rehearsed accident.

I finally look away, getting back to work, still astonished by the sight of this man.

Two hours in, my feet ache and my throat is dry. I’m standing near the bar refilling a champagne order when someone taps my shoulder.

I turn around just to be met with a younger man with soft features and tired eyes. He’s dressed in all black too, but it’s not a uniform - it’s intentional. Clean, expensive, stylish in a way that’s meant to seem effortless.

„You’re the new one,“ he says. „Right?“

I nod, cautious.

„I’m Matsukawa. Oikawa wants you to bring him his drink.“

My brain stutters, taken aback by his request.

„I- me? Why?“

„Don’t ask“, he says, amused. „Just don’t spill anything.“

He points to a glass already poured and ready on the bar. I pick up the tray, careful not to spill anything, like i was told. I cross the club floor, every step feeling heavier than the last.

Oikawa watched me approach him slowly, my heart hammering under my ribs. The tray in my hands felt too heavy, my steps too loud. His table wasn’t empty — two other men sat with him. One with a boxer’s build and a quiet stare. He had dark hair, was tall and broad-shouldered with a voice rough like sandpaper. The other one, I recognized to be Matsukawa from earlier, lazy smirk and cigarette between his teeth.

There’s something unreadable in Oikawas gaze - like he’s not looking at me so much as looking through me.

„You’re new,“ he said as I finally reached his table.

I nodded, unsure of how much I was supposed to say. He took the drink from my tray, but his eyes didn’t leave my face even once.

„I like new,“ he took a sip and tilted his head, „What’s your name?“

„Uh.. y/n,“ I said, voice steady despite my nerves. His smirk deepened.

„Tōru Oikawa,“ he simply responded, introducing himself to me.

He said it like it meant something. Like you’d remember it. Like you’d say it again — breathless, maybe, or desperate. And maybe I would. I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me.

“Stay a minute.”

I hesitated. Matsukawa raised an eyebrow. The other man, Iwaizumi, as i picked up from their conversation while walking towards the table, just sighed.

“She’s working,” Rika said sharply from across the room.

Oikawa didn’t blink. “So am I.”

The room seemed to pause around me. The laughter, the music, the low thrum of life — all holding its breath. I didn’t know it then, but the game had just begun. I wasn’t in the deep end yet. But my feet had already left the floor, before he could say any more, returning back to be bar.

The next morning, my heels were bruising my ankles, my tips smelled like cologne and smoke, and my head was still full of him. I didn’t know why he’d spoken to me. I didn’t know what kind of man could make Rika stop midstep with a single look. But I knew his name now. And somehow, I knew that mattered. Rika didn’t say much when i clocked in for my next shift. Just handed me a cleaner uniform, a tighter skirt, and a tray with a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“You did fine last night,” she said. “Keep your head down. Don’t let him distract you.”

I didn’t ask who “him” was. I didn’t need to.

The club had a rhythm, and I was learning to follow it. VIP tables in the back. No touching unless invited. Never make eye contact with a man who smiles too much and talks too little.

By midnight, the same faces had returned — slick suits, sharp watches, and whispers in languages I didn’t speak. A woman in red laughed too loudly. Two men passed envelopes under a velvet table. Someone cried in the hallway, softly, like she’d been here before.

Then he walked in.

Same suit. Same calm. Oikawa looked like he’d stepped off the cover of something expensive — hair still tousled, eyes still unreadable. He slid into his usual booth like it had waited all day just for him. Iwaizumi followed behind, nodding once at Rika. Matsukawa raised a glass to me from across the floor.And I tried not to look when Oikawa glanced at me and smiled like the two of us shared a secret.

It was a busy night again but just as last night, everything was running smoothly. I finally found my rhythm, carrying trays full of martin glasses and beer bottles with ease, until i reach the end of my shift, but I wasn’t allowed to leave. Yet.

He didn’t ask for me. But he didn’t need to. By now, the staff had noticed. Rika didn’t say a word when she passed me his order again. She just muttered, “Don’t linger,” and vanished behind the bar.

I approached slowly, tray in hand, like I was trying not to startle something dangerous.

„You again,” Oikawa said, eyes flicking to my lips and back. “Are you haunting me?”

I tried to answer, but my voice caught in my throat. Matsukawa laughed, and Iwaizumi just shook his head.

“She’s nervous,” Oikawa said softly. “That’s cute.”

He took the glass from my tray, fingers brushing mine. Deliberate. Controlled.

Then he leaned back in the booth and asked, “Do you like cars?”

The question startled me. I blinked. “I—I guess?”

“Wanna go for a drive?”

I hesitated. He grinned.

“Not tonight,” he said. “But soon. You should see what this city looks like when you’re going 140 under moonlight.”

My breath caught, and I hated that he noticed.

„I’m not so sure about that,“ I stated, but before either of us could continue, I hear Rika calling my name from across the room.

„I should probably go, I don’t want to get in trouble with her,“ I shoot him a sheepish smile before I turn around quickly and make my way back down towards the bar. And with that my shift finally ended.

Rika offered to call me a taxi, but when I stepped outside, a black car was already waiting. Windows tinted. Engine still running. The driver rolled down the window.

“I‘ll take you home.”

I paused. Looked back at the club. The lights were dimming. Staff were locking doors. The street was wet again, pavement shining like glass. I nodded, got in, and shut the door behind me. Oikawa was behind the wheel. Of course he was.He didn’t speak right away. Just adjusted the volume on the stereo — jazz, slow and low — and pulled onto the main road like he had all the time in the world.

“You live downtown, right?” he asked casually.

“How do you know that?”

“I ask around.”

He glanced at me, one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on the stick shift. His rings glinted under the dash lights.

“I like to know things about people I’m interested in.”

I didn’t answer.

The streets blurred by in soft golds and deep blues. The city felt like a dream in motion — unfamiliar, surreal, almost beautiful. He drove like he lived: smooth, fast, just shy of reckless.When he dropped me off, he didn’t ask for my number. Didn’t reach for my hand. Just smiled and said, “You’ll see me again soon.”

Then the car disappeared down the street like it had never been there at all. That night, I lay awake staring at the ceiling.

The club. The smoke. His eyes.

I didn’t know what I‘d been pulled into. But whatever it was, it had my name now. And it wasn’t letting go.

The beach was sunny that day, and it was full of people doing whatever they wanted: making out, poorly playing volleyball, making sandcastles, whatever they wanted. Oikawa considered joining in on an amateur volleyball match, but he shrugged it off. They would probably recognize him, and while he enjoyed his fame, he preferred his female fans to his male ones. He instead opted to do what he did best: lie there and look pretty. His muscles rippled in the bronzing sunlight as he observed how the waves of the ocean danced, how the children laughed, and how the seagulls terrorized innocent picnic-havers. It was the best thing ever…until he got bored and wanted a drink. Something light, something with lime and coconut. He didn’t care what as long as it had those two things. 

The bar was unusually empty, which was great. His fame got him a lot of special treatment, but cutting the line at the beach bar was certainly different from them. He gave the bartender his order and gave him the pesos, turning his back to the employee as his drink got mixed. Oikawa zoned out for the better part of it, not thinking of much until he was snapped out of his thoughts by a feminine voice. 

“Virgin margarita, please,” you spoke so sweetly like honey was falling from your lips. Oikawa snapped his head in your direction, and his eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. You, Wakatoshi Ushijima’s girlfriend, were standing a few feet away from him, in the cutest little black bikini he had ever seen. He choked on his saliva, pretending to brush it off as a cough. Fuck, did you notice him? There was no way you didn’t. Whatever, there’s no turning back now. Oikawa plastered his signature smirk onto his handsome features, staring at you through his designer sunglasses.

“Well, if it isn’t Ushijima’s illustrious girlfriend. What brings you to Argentina? Let me guess, he sent you to sign me to the Alders?” his voice was smug, annoyingly smug. 

You groaned and took off your sunglasses, nestling them atop your head. “Okay, you’re so wrong on so many levels,” you placed your hands on your hips, raising an eyebrow. “First of all, I’m not his girlfriend anymore. I broke up with Wakatoshi after he got drafted to the Alders, which probably answers your second question.” the ghost of a smirk dusted your lips. 

“Oh,” Oikawa was momentarily silenced. “But you’re still on a first-name basis?”

“And is that any of your business?”

“Wow, since when was Shiratorizawa’s princess so fucking bitchy? I thought you were Snow White or something,” he scoffed, stepping towards you with his arms crossed. 

“And you’re just as pretentious as people say you are,” you snickered. “For your information, Oikawa, I can act however I want. I broke up with his sorry ass, and I’m not telling you why. God, I can’t believe we’re at the same beach.”

Shit, he liked how you were talking to him. No one had put him down like that long ago, not since Iwaizumi. It was nice…did he like it when girls were mean to him instead of worshipping the ground he walked on?

“Hey, don’t get pissy with me, princess. It’s not my fault you just happen to go to the beach near where I live,” Oikawa scoffed. “What are you even doing in Argentina anyway? What, did university not work out for you back in Miyagi.”

You rolled your eyes. “For your information, asshole, I got into every university I applied to. I just…” you signed, rubbing your temple. “I just needed some time away from that place. Everything reminds me of Wakatoshi. It was just better for me to get away for a while.”

The bartender coughed awkwardly, holding your drinks. You both took them as the employee turned back around, visibly uncomfortable. Oikawa took a sip of the drink, nodding in approval. “So, I take it finding me on this beach wasn’t the most relaxing thing?”

“I thought you were going to be nice to me, but I guess I was wrong since you thought I was still with Wakatoshi,” you sipped your drink, the cool liquid drooling down your chin and onto your breasts. “But…I guess I can forgive you. After all, neither of us went to nationals since Karasuno got number nine and ten, right?” 

Oikawa chuckled. “Yeah, you’re right. Fucking Tobio.”

“You know he’s on the Alders as well, right?”

“What? Oh, fucking of course he is,” Oikawa scoffed, placing his drink down at the bar. He looked at your form again, drinking in each curve that your bikini did such a poor job of hiding. Did you wear that thing on purpose to find someone here to fuck? Maybe Ushijima never fucked you right. Maybe he never made you cum. Maybe that’s why you dumped his sorry ass because he was a terrible lover. Oh, wouldn’t that just be a fucking treat?

“So,” Oikawa stared at the ground. “Do you wanna head back to my apartment? It’s within walking distance. Plus, I have drinks that aren’t stupidly overpriced,” he shot the bartender a dirty look. “No offense.”

You thought for a moment, your perfectly manicured finger tapping on your bottom lip. “Sure, that could be fun. Besides,” you leaned forward, exposing your cleavage to the setter. “If Wakatoshi heard about that, he would be so fucking pissed. So why not, hm?”

Holy shit. You were perfect. “Wow,” Oikawa was speechless, which was a rare fucking treat. “And here I thought you were all sweet and innocent,” he casually snaked his arm around your waist, shamelessly feeling your supple skin. “I guess I was wrong.”

“You’re lucky we hate the same person, or else I would have broken your arm off by now,” you snicker, allowing his hand to feel up and down your waist. “Now, where’s your apartment? Let me guess,” you pointed to an expensive-looking building. “Penthouse suite on the top floor right over there?”

“How the hell did you know that?” he raised an eyebrow in suspicion. 

You scoffed, walking in tune with Oikawa. “I mean, it’s painfully obvious. That’s the only apartment complex within comfortable walking distance, and knowing your ego, you probably chose the apartment on the top floor because you think you’re entitled to it, somehow,” you smirked, staring into his milky brown eyes. “Well? How right am I?’

Oikawa frowned, pouting like a baby. “...pretty right…” he mumbled.

“What? I didn’t catch that?” you pretended to cup your ear.

“I said you’re right. Jeez, since when were you this cocky?” he grumbled, pulling you closer to his muscular form. He was ripped, more ripped than he was in the sports magazines from high school. His chest was chiseled, and his shoulders were broad as if he had been sculpted by the gods themselves. You would never admit this to him (not sober, at least), but Oikawa was hot as fuck, even though he was a major brat. 

“I’ve always been this cocky, just not in public,” you looked up at the door of the penthouse apartment complex, the doorknobs brandishing an expensive golden sheen. “Wow, these sure are different than the Miyagi apartments,” you mumbled, rubbing on your arm. Oddly enough, you felt out of place, like you didn’t fit the right tax bracket to be allowed here.

“Well, cutie, I am a professional athlete. I make more than the entire staff does combined,” he bragged, waving to the desk attendant, who had the most annoyed look on her face. Maybe she knew what a dick Oikawa was as well. 

You bit down on your bottom lip, tapping your sandalled shoe against the cool tiling of the lobby. Did he just call you a cutie? You shouldn’t take it personally. He probably did that with every other girl he found attractive. Wait, does that mean he found you attractive? Oh god, did you actually like being flirted with by Toru Oikawa? You slapped your hands over your cheeks, attempting to hide the ever-blooming red blush.

“Are you okay? You look red,” he thought for a second, his lips twisting into a smirk. “Is Shiratorizawa’s Princess blushing?” he leaned forward, smirking as the elevator doors closed. His large and calloused hands pressed against either side of your head, trapping you between the wall and his shirtless frame.

“Shut up!” you slapped him across his cheek, leaving a stinging imprint on his flawless skin. He gasped, massaging his cheek. “You’re a pervert, you know that?”

“I haven’t even said anything perverted yet! No one hits me, no one!” he wined, uncaging you from the elevator wall. “You’re feisty,” he mumbled under his breath, something you couldn’t hear.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the elevator door dinged. You both left the elevator and walked to his apartment in silence, your hands massaging your arms as the cold air of the upper floor set in. Rich people have excellent air conditioning. 

“This is it,” Oikawa jiggled his key into the lock, pulling open the mahogany door. “Ladies first,” he winked, making you scoff as you entered the vast apartment. 

“Holy-” your words died on your lips as you took in Oikawa’s living space. How perfect and elegant it was. It was massive, boasting a designer kitchen with beautiful granite countertops and three ovens. Who the hell needs three ovens? “This place is huge! Damn, I forgot how much they pay professional athletes!” 

Oikawa chuckled at your childlike marveling, or perhaps it was envy? Either way, he could get used to you gawking over his wealth. “I know, I know. I’m fucking fantastic,” he strode over to the bar cart, mixing some peach juice and vodka. “I know this isn’t the most manly drink, but beer is so gross. Don’t you agree?” he handed you a glass, not even trying to hide the fact that he was staring at your tits.

“Oh, totally. Beer is gross,” you took a sip of the drink, smiling at the peach juice hit your tongue. “Oh damn, this is good. Where did you get this?”

“I’m not telling. You could buy out my entire supply!” Oikawa laughed, taking another sip of his beverage. “So,” he leaned against his kitchen counter, staring into your eyes with his half-lidded ones. “What will it take for me to learn why you dumped Ushijima, hm?” his voice was a purr, like a siren trying to lure you into the sea.

You rolled your eyes and sat down on the couch, admiring the tasteful throw pillows he had. “Well, if it gets you to shut up, I’ll tell you,” you patted the seat right next to your own. “You’re lucky I have vodka in me, or else I’d be really bitchy right about now.”

“Who’s saying you aren’t being bitchy?”

You shot him a glare. “Do you wanna know my breakup story or not?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes and sat next to you, purposefully spreading his muscular thighs. Fuck, he was sexy as hell. “Well? Let’s hear the story, cutie.”

“Okay,” you took a deep breath, locking your eyes on your pedicured feet. “We started dating because one of his teammates said we would look good together. Tendou, I think his name was. He asked me out, but it wasn’t very romantic. He was stoic, unfeeling. I guess he’s always been like that,” you paused, licking your bottom lip. “He was a good boyfriend for the most part, I guess. He was kind, and he supported me in anything I did. It’s just…volleyball was his top priority, not me. And don’t get me wrong, I loved cheerleading. Wakatoshi prioritized sports over his relationship, so I dumped him once he was signed to the Alders.” you looked up at Oikawa, a soft smile gracing your lips. “I’m happy I dumped his sorry ass.”

“Wow,” Oikawa mumbled, setting his drink on the coffee table. “I’m sorry he treated you like that. I always knew he was a piece of shit, and now I have the proof,” he smacked his lips together, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “C’mere, I gotta ask you something else.”

“Do we have to be this close for you to ask me a question?” you raised an eyebrow, secretly enjoying the intimacy.

“Yes,” Oikawa immediately responded. “Answer me this,” his voice dropped to a deep octave, goosebumps covering your arms. “Did he ever make you cum, or did you have to fake it every time?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, a blush dusting your cheeks. “Well, technically, no, he didn’t make me cum,” you whispered, knowing damn well that Oikawa had a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“I fucking knew it,” he pulled you impossibly closer, pulling your lip down with his thumb. “Poor little girl, hm? You’re big, strong boyfriend never gave you an orgasm. Did he even know where the clit is?”

You shook your head. “No, I had to show it to him, and he still has never found it.”

“Oh, that’s pathetic. And adorable. To think,” his lips trailed upwards to the cartilage of your ear, nibbling on it. “That a pretty thing like yourself had a boyfriend that wouldn’t give her what she wanted…that’s just tragic, don’t you think so?”

You looked at him, your eyes ablaze. “I guess so. What, did you wanna do something about that?” your hands slid up and down his thigh, dangerously close to his hardening cock. 

“I think I will,” without any warning, he scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder, slapping you on the ass. You squeaked and were thrown onto his bed, the crisp cotton sheets welcoming your burning skin. Oikawa crawled on top of you, pinning your wrists above your head. “I have an idea, something that will piss Ushijima off. That’s what we both want, isn’t it?” he planted a daring kiss on your neck, the aroma of your tropical perfume filling his nostrils. “I know you wanna see him angry, don’t you, cutie?”

Fuck, his words landed right at your core. You squeezed your legs shut, tilting your head to the side so he could plant more of his blazing kisses on your delicate skin. “Mhm, I wanna see him get so mad he does something he’ll regret,” you purr, gasping as Oikawa sank his canines into you. A soft moan fell from your lips, only encouraging him to leave more delicious bruises. He stopped his ministrations, licking his way up to your ear. “I wanna film me fucking your brains out,” his voice was a low rumble, practically dripping with want. “I wanna send him pictures of you covered in my fucking cum with your tits covered in hickeys. That’ll show him, right?” he shamelessly palmed your breast, wanting to tear that slutty bikini off your perfect body.

“Fuck, Oikawa,” you moaned, breaking free from his grasp. “If you’re gonna do that,” you sat on the bed. “We have to be equals in this, or he’ll think you’re fucking me without consent.”

“What? So, no bondage or anything?” he pouted. “Well, I guess that’s fair,” his milky eyes darted to one of his dresser drawers. “I…I have a professional camera in there, as well as a tripod. Don’t fucking ask why I have those, okay? If we’re gonna film a little something for your ex-boyfriend,” he playfully nipped at your ear. “We’re gonna do it right.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you chuckled, swatting his hands away as he fumbled with the string of your bikini top. “Nope, you have to undress me on camera. That’ll really piss him off.”

Oikawa smirked, setting up the tripod quickly. How many times did he use that thing? “You sure know him well, don’t you, cutie?” he hit the record button, crawling above you again. The camera was positioned to have the side-view of whatever you two decided to participate in. “Don’t worry, I’ll get the money shot with my phone,” he snickered, hovering his lips above yours. “Now, cutie, do you wanna make a movie with me?”

“Fuck yes,” and his lips were upon yours, ravaging them like he had drank a love potion. They moved in sync with your own, relishing in the mango-flavored chapstick you wore. He kissed you like he owned you from the second he saw you in that slutty bikini. The way his teeth clashed against yours was animalistic in his fight to be dominant, not even asking for entry before shoving his tongue inside your mouth. Your wet muscles danced, pulling moan after moan out of your lungs before he pulled away abruptly, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. 

“Gotta fucking catch my breath,” he chuckled. “You kiss like a fucking whore.”

“I bite like one, too,” you smirked, rolling over to straddle Oikawa’s waist. He gasped in confusion before quickly being silenced, the sensation of you harshly sucking on his muscular neck making him whimper. You chuckled, grinding yourself onto his pelvis, your most intimate parts being covered by thin pieces of fabric.

“Fuck, cutie,” Oikawa’s hands squeezed your hips, rolling the fat between his taped fingers. He bucked his hips upwards, making you yelp. “Take off that fucking top now,” he growled, fisting the sheets beneath him impatiently.

You giggled and reached behind your back, undoing the bikini knot teasingly slow. Oikawa knew what you were doing. He’d seen it a million times by now. Usually, he wouldn’t mind. It was just another beach slut taking her time, trying to draw out their experience with the great Toru Oikawa. But this time was different. He didn’t want to wait. He wanted you creaming on his cock the way Ushijima never made you. Besides, there would be a second time. And a third, and a fourth.

His hand cracked against your ass. “Don’t fucking tease me, cutie,” his voice rasped, his hands hungrily grasping onto your tits. “Fucking take this off, or I’ll rip it off of you. Show me those tits, don’t get all shy on me now.”

You squeak, your clit pulsating at the contact. “Fine, whatever you want, baby,” you threw your bikini top across the room, letting your breasts be exposed to the cool air of his bedroom. Oikawa groaned, rolling over so he was on top once more. His mouth found your breast, sucking at the pillowy flesh while his hands rolled over your pert nipple, alternating between each breast. He sucked on your areloas, making sure not to be gentle. He only got more confident with each slutty moan he ripped from your lips, relishing in the incredibly high ones he received when he bit down on your nipple. Your chest was littered with tiny purple circles and covered in his saliva, the desire in your belly practically bubbling over. His cock was painfully hard, pressing against your inner thigh. You swore you could hear it throbbing, begging to fuck your cunt. 

“Oikawa!” you whimpered, grabbing his ashy brown hair and forcefully pulling him away from your chest. “I-I think you marked me enough, right? C’mon,” your hand guided his into your bikini bottom, sighing as his thumb finally found your desperate clit. “I’m so wet down here for you, Oikawa. Don’t you wanna take care of me?”

Your voice was high-pitched like the girls in porn, and Oikawa fucking loved it. You were both putting on a show in shorts. A show to piss off a man that you both despised, but it was a show nonetheless. It's a sexy, depraved show.

“You moan like a fucking slut,” he pushed your bikini to the side, exposing your dripping pussy. Without a second thought, he shoved his middle and ring finger deep inside your heat, curling them slightly. You cried out, arching your back further into the mattress as his other hand still had a firm hold on your breast.

“Oh, you like that, cutie? You like getting finger-fucked by your ex-boyfriend's enemy?” he growled, fucking his fingers in and out of your weeping pussy at a relentless pace. “I wonder what they would say if they saw you like this, a slutty little mess under me. You’re such a whore for my fingers, aren’t you?” his thumb dragged over your clit, his fingers and his arm being so precise in their ministrations. Your pussy squeezed around his digits, feeling your first orgasm in such a long-time approach.

“P-please, Oikawa! Fucking make me cum!” you sobbed, your hands clenching onto the white sheets. You saw stars as your orgasm crashed over you, rolling your head to the side to stare directly into the camera. With your blown-out eyes and bruised lips, you looked fucking ethereal.

“Good fucking girl,” Oikawa popped his fingers in his mouth, tasting your slick. You tasted incredible, unlike anything he had ever tasted before. “Open up,” he ran his finger over your soaked core, gathering up more of your essence to forcefully shove inside your mouth. “Suck,” he commanded, and you did. Your tongue ran over his fingers while you made direct eye contact with him, making the setter impossibly hard. “Little slut.”

“M’not a slut,” you whined, spreading your legs further apart. You were contradicting yourself. You were on display for him as if his apartment was some kind of brothel. The look in his eyes when he saw your gorgeous body, your thighs still trembling in the aftershocks of your release. Fuck, it really looked like he ripped you straight out of a porno. 

“Then how come you’re spread out like one for me, hm? That pussy’s dripping all over my bed, dirty girl.” he slid off his swimming trunks, his cock slapping against his rock-hard abs. He boasted a proud, sensitive pink tip that was leaking with precum. He pumped his cock a few times before aligning it with your entrance, slapping the head against your clit. “Now, are you gonna beg for me to fuck you better than that pathetic ex-boyfriend of yours ever could?” he looked directly into the camera, mesmerized by the flashing red light. “Better than Ushijima, I’m better than Ushijima.”

“T-Toru!” you whined, pulling him down by his shoulders into a passionate kiss. You stared into the camera as well, giving it a wink. Using Oikawa’s first name would surely make your ex furious. It just had to. “Fuck me! Fuck me better than Wakatoshi ever could!” you sobbed, wrapping your legs around his waist so he had no hope of escaping. Your eyes were wet with fake tears, begging him to ruin you.

“Shit,” he groaned, pushing the head of his cock past your entrance. “That’s what I like to fucking hear.” he slammed his lips down on yours once again, bullying the rest of his throbbing length deep inside your heat. “So fucking tight.” Oikawa hissed at the sight of your greedy pussy sucking him in, his teeth nipping at your lips.

“S’fucking big, Toru! Fuck!” you cried, your nails leaving angry red crescent marks on his back. Oikawa revealed in the pleasure, continuing to make out with you as he fucked you harder, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix occasionally.

“You’ve ever been fucked this hard before, hm?” he bit down on your shoulder, leaving an imprint of his teeth. “No one’s ever fucked this pussy as good before, huh? Fucking answer me, cutie,” his hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing softly. 

You gasped, struggling to take his massive cock and breath at the same time. “No one’s, fuck, no one’s ever fucked me like this before, Toru!” you sobbed, sighing in relief as he let go of your neck.

“So fucking obedient. And you let her dump you, Usjijima? Fucking pathetic,” he rolled his hips against yours, hitting even deeper inside your pussy. His balls slapped against the cleft of your ass, the apartment echoing with lustful moans and squeals. He grabbed your jaw and pulled you in for another kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as his cock ravaged your core. 

“Toru, I’m gonna fucking cum!” you sob into his mouth, your nails now leaving furious red scratches down his back. He whined into your mouth, his hips never faltering as they continued their unrelenting and unforgiving speed. Sweat dripped from his brow and into your hair, moan after beautiful moan being ripped from your lips as he fucked you like he owned you, like you were his. It was more than just a revenge fuck, so much more.

“Fucking cum on my cock, cutie. Be a good fucking slut and make a mess on this cock,” he growled into your mouth, pulling on your hair to force your neck to the side. He planted open-mouth kisses as you were pushed over the edge, crying out his name as your release coated his pulsating shaft. 

Fuck, he wasn’t going to last, not at the rate that your pussy was milking him. He eagerly reached for his phone on the mattress, and just as he felt his orgasm approach, he pulled out of your addictive cunt. The camera app was opened, and the record button was pressed, videoing Oikawa desperately fisting his cock before letting out a guttural, almost animalistic roar. His thick, white-hot ropes of cum painted your stomach and fucked out face, some even landing on your lips. Oikawa stopped recording and took several pictures, each with a different angle of your cum-covered curves.

“Gorgeous,” the setter muttered, tossing his phone back onto the now-ruined sheets. He got off the bed and grabbed the camera, winking at the lens as he hit the power button. The light stopped blinking, and Oikawa was satisfied. “Well, you just made your first porno. How do you feel about that, cutie?” 

You shrugged your shoulders. “It’s more of a revenge porno than anything, but I liked it,” you averted your gaze. “You’re a good fuck.”

He placed a hand on his hip. “Well, obviously,” Oikawa rolled his eyes, grabbed a box of tissues, and handed them to you. “Clean yourself off. I’ll run you a bath in a minute.”

You needed clarification. “You’re doing aftercare?”

“Why the hell would I not?” he sounded offended. 

“Because you seem like an inconsiderate piece of shit,” your words were so casual, yet so mean. Why did Oikawa crave more?

“I made you cum, didn’t I?” he snatched the box of tissues out of your hand. “Twice, I made you cum twice. That’s more than fucking Ushijima ever could.”

“Woah, don’t get your panties in a twist. It was just an assumption, damn.” you rolled your eyes, stepping off of the bed. “Now, I’m gonna need to borrow a shirt before I get the hell out of here. You kind of ruined my bikini top.”

Oikawa shook his head, placing the camera inside his drawer beside him. “You aren’t going anywhere, not until I’ve gotten as many orgasms as I want out of that slutty little pussy of yours.”

You chuckled darkly and pounced on him, straddling his waist once again. “Only if I get to be on top this time, okay?” you licked his neck. “I wanna see how the Great King reacts to Shiratorizawa’s Princess riding his cock.”

Oikawa grinned and pulled you down for another kiss, his cock already hard. You were in for a long fucking night.

Ushijima woke up to an onslaught of ringing sounds coming from his phone. Groaning, he turned to the side to see who had the balls to be emailing him at 2:56 in the morning. 

His eyes widened as he saw two video attachments, as well as several image attachments, of Oikawa’s cock plunging in and out of his ex-girlfriend's pussy. Her cries and moans quickly filled up his bedroom as Oikawa’s mischievous brown eyes locked with Ushijima’s green ones from behind the screen. He sat up, scrolling through the rest of the attachments. Each image was enough to send him into a rage, but the last one was what got to him. Your head resting on Oikawa’s chest, various hickeys covering your tits and neck as you slept soundly. On the other hand, Oikawa was smirking as he held up the number five with his fingers. Ushijima’s hands cracked his phone, shattering the protective glass.

01. lets go tokyo!

02. nekomas filled with FREAKS!!

There was something so stupid and so humiliating about being found and captured by the Outcast tribe after all the times he and the rest of the gang had thoroughly kicked their asses. 

Hiccup rolled his eyes internally as he remembered how all the things that could have gone wrong had gone wrong today. He hoped that Toothless would come to save him, but with the basted tail prosthetic, Hiccup was more worried that Toothless would be putting himself in danger. 

Alvin wasn’t as obsessed with Toothless as Dagur, but if his upbringing had taught him anything, it was that a Night Fury was a big prize no matter the final goal. Does that mean that Snotlout was the only one he could hope to help Toothless get him out? 

Yeah… that’s not gonna work out. With wild dragons in cages and a very stubborn Alvin with an island of Outcasts on their heels, whatever rescue mission is attempted can only end in disaster.

He wondered if they would give him a ground or boat funeral. 

“Move it, boy!” The guard taking him to his cage shouted, pushing him forward. 

His eyes drifted to the caged dragons, his footing slowing down just a little as he made a few comments here and there, and Alvin barking orders based on them. Something about how Scauldrons should be given less water if they want to avoid getting boiled alive, something about the Whispering Deaths, the rest he didn’t remember. Too preoccupied thinking about all the ways a potential rescue could go wrong. 

Snotlout with his macho antics and Toothless trying to single-handedly get him out of wherever the Outcasts had stashed him. 

They stopped in front of yet another massive cave-looking cage. What’s up with the people of this island and their massive prisons? Overcompensating for something, maybe? Lack of brains? Lack of prisoners? Lack of everything? The island did look rather barren when they explored it earlier. 

Part of him wondered where they managed to get so much iron that they could be so wasteful with it. 

“Get in there!” Alvin yelled as the door opened and pushed him in. 

As if that was necessary. This was clearly a dragon-sized cage. He could have entered from between the bars with little effort. Like he said, lack of brains. 

Hiccup stashed the information away. If he could get out of here and into the cage of another dragon, maybe he wouldn’t need a funeral after all. Being the size of a toothpick had its advantages.

“You two be nice now, aye?” Alvin closed the door, banging his fist against it before leaving. 

“Two? Who else is he talking about?” Hiccup said out loud, turning to look at the rest of the cage, his eyes scanning for a dragon silhouette. 

Did they put him in a cage with a dragon? Alvin had a thing for trying to make Hiccup use his “dragon master” skills. 

That was either the smartest or stupidest move he could have pulled. 

“Okay, nothing here… Maybe a Changewing? How would they even capture one?” Hiccup chuckled but scanned the cave again, slower this time, just in case. 

“Okay… lets see…Rock, rock, more rock…” He mumbled as he turned his head from one side of the cage to the other. “Hmm… maybe in the darker part…” He walked deeper. “Nope. Rock, rock, person, rock, ah, look more rock.” He chuckled, “Did he think there was a dragon here? Oh, poor Alvin.” Hiccup shook his head, placing his hands on his hips, letting out another chuckle, and turning his body towards the door again.

“Now… Is there a dragon that will not try to kill me on sight?” Scauldrons and Whispering Deaths shouldn’t be anyone's first pick when you are in a hurry or a pinch. So maybe not. 

Wait…

He slowly turns his head back towards the end of the cage. 

Waaiit… 

He squints his eyes as his arms fall to his sides. 

Waaaiiiit…

Hiccup took a step deeper into the cage. He could now make out the outline of a curled-up person, face hidden behind knees and arms circling the legs, keeping the position tightly locked in place.

Fuck there was another person! What why?

He took another step closer. “Are you okay?” 

“I promise I am not an Outcast?” He phrased it as a question, but he wasn't sure how reassuring it was that he wasn’t an Outcast. Probably a lot.

“Can you hear me?” Were they asleep? In this place? He was now standing close enough to the stranger to make the not-so-subtle shaking. How did he miss that? At least they weren’t asleep. 

“Hey…” He spoke softly as he bent down, their hold on their body tightened as if that would keep him from approaching, or them from being seen. His hand extended slowly to touch their knee. “Hey, can you—” 

The stranger's whole body shook and stiffened violently the moment his fingertips made contact with their knee. They untangled themselves, their feet stretching out, kicking him in the process.

“Ow!” Hiccup exclaimed as he rolled on his back, hands clutching his now-injured leg. “Ow! Come on! Not the good leg!” He closed his eyes and bit his lips, trying to hold back in shouts of curses in case he made them even more scared. 

“Why would you do that!? What is wrong with you?” He turned to look at the leg-kicking stranger, eyebrows frowning and expecting the biggest of apologies. 

His eyes took in the appearance of his assailant, who now appeared to be standing, eyes moving slowly from the ground up. Weird foreign shoes, weird foreign clothes, arms nestled on their chest pushing against it as their back pushed against the wall with the desperate need of someone who wanted to get swallowed by it. One arm had a bruise that looked more and more like a handprint. His eyes traveled further up. Dried blood that had rolled down their collarbone connecting to a cut on their neck, and tear-stained cheeks. 

Hiccup stopped clutching his leg as he met their eyes. Red rimmed and puffy from crying and full of fear. 

What the fuck? A hostage? But why? 

Okay… Okay… He got this. 

Hiccup took a deep breath and swallowed as he sat up. He kept his eyes on the stranger, scooting a little backwards to create space between them. 

He watched as you took a few calming breaths and slowly slid down the wall until you were also sitting down. 

“Well, that was quite the introduction, huh?” He made an attempt at humour, but when his only answer was silence, he let out an awkward cough, looking away. Maybe talking wasn’t on the table yet. 

He kept stealing glances as he noticed your shaky breaths and occasional nose sniffing, along with your hands that were rubbing your arms so insistently it was impossible to hear. 

He cleared throat and wet his lips. “Are you cold?” 

Your eyes moved to meet his, but when his only reply was the hunch of your shoulders, he let out a slightly exasperated breath. This was starting to get old. But he was patient and he was understanding, he kept telling himself as he held back a big eyeroll. 

He took off his fur vest and held it out to you, waiting for you to take it. Your eyes met his for a second before moving to the vest and then back to him. 

Hiccup nodded to the vest and then nodded softly as he pushed it a little closer to you. You extended your hand slowly, taking hold of his vest and slowly putting it on. Your attention was taken by the sensation of the fur. As if you were trying to determine something about it. 

You mumbled something he couldn’t quite understand, but then again, your words were so low and muffled he doubted anyone would be able to understand them. 

His eyes wandered around the cage, trying to keep himself busy and from looking at you. He started to move air from one cheek to another, taking his fingers against one leg as he tried to soothingly rub the one you kicked, letting out a hiss every now and again. 

“Ah—” he heard the unknown voice, rough and hoarse from lack of use or maybe from its overuse. You swallowed hard and tried to clear your throat. “Are you okay?” You pointed to his leg. 

Hiccup turned to you, surprised. Groaning as he let his head fall down, one hand holding his forehead while his fingers rubbed his temples. He’s an idiot! Gods, he's an idiot! The answer was staring at him this whole time! Weird foreign clothes, weird foreign shoes. You weren’t playing the silent game! You didn’t speak his language, and from the sound of it, he didn’t speak yours. 

How could he not notice!? 

He lifted his head again to steal a peek at you, taking in your appearance. He groaned again, covering his eyes. 

He should feel grateful that no one else was here to witness his stupidity. Fishlegs would have noticed immediately. 

A few more words left your lips that probably meant something along the lines of ‘are you okay’. Probably. 

He lifted his head again to look at you properly as you poked his knee. 

“Sorry, does it hurt a lot?” Your words sounded soft and sincere, not that he would be able to tell if they weren’t, your eyes a mix of worry and guilt… he thinks. 

This would haunt him for the rest of his days. 

“Dinner time!” The voice of one of the guards echoed through the prison, followed by the sounds of banging metal. 

Any progress made to calm you down had vanished as you hurried deeper in the shadows, curling back into yourself with your hands covering your ears. 

“Here you go, dragon master, Alvin ordered us to feed you well," his apparent title left the guard’s lips sarcastically as he threw a loaf of bread in their direction. “Don’t feel compelled to share.” He laughed.

“It would be a waste.” Another adds as he passes by. 

Hiccup picked up the bread. “What does that mean?” He asked, walking along with the guards for as long as his cage allowed. 

“Non ‘o yer business boy.” 

Hiccup frowned as he stopped his path, now blocked by the wall. 

What did that mean?

Hiccup shook his head as he tried to clean the bread as best he could. He rolled his eyes, turning to walk back towards you. Outcast, he thought with the same sentiment that he would say ‘typical’. 

“Do you think the high lady would offer the girl to Odin?” 

“Probably Freya, since she is the goddess of Seiðr.” 

“No! Odin is the Allfather! A warrior and a man of magics! it makes more sense to give her to him.” 

The fading voices of the guards echoed again. 

Hiccup stopped walking again and turned his head back towards the voices. 

Offer? No that… No… 

He turned to look at you again, eyes widening and biting his lips as his worry broke through the roof. 

Fuck… he had to get you out of here.

There was one and only one question Hiccup had been trying to find the answer to: What the actual Thor did he do last night?

The post-hangover headache was still eating at him—it felt like it was eating at everyone, with his friends also feeling like their brains were reduced to mush.

It was a challenge putting all his clothes on, but that didn't stop him from trying to figure out what he did last night to have all his clothes strewn about, all on the floor of his room.

All he remembered was a girl bringing him home.

Was he too drunk that she helped him get home?

He walked down the stairs, taking his precious time as if he did anything more quickly, he'd probably hurl.

Hiccup made it down, looking to see if his dear Nightfury was there, but to his surprise, he wasn't.

Toothless wasn't in the hut, weird.

He concludes that it wasn't all that bad—if Toothless was ever there, he probably wouldn't even consider riding him in the first place, he'd probably throw up as soon as they took off from vertigo.

He trudged his way through the Village; a few 'hello's and 'morning, Chief!'s had been thrown his way, to which he just acknowledged with a nod, Then a thought had made his ears go pink as he walked through Berk—Did the girl who helped him get home also help him take his clothes off?

He shook the thought out of his mind before he got any more crazier thoughts, before finally pushing through the door of the Great Hall—with great struggle that is.

"Hey, look. . . It's Hiccy," Tuffnut's voice had caught the others, making them look at the boy who'd been walking over to them, quite slow, actually.

Hiccup didn't have enough energy to tell him not to call him that, so he just threw him a half-assed glare.

"Woah, you look. . . Drained." Astrid had said, her head leaning on her fist for support, her voice that was usually filled with spunk now replaced with exhaustion.

"Eh, I've felt worse." He waved it off, sitting down next to them, accepting the soup that Astrid pushed to his side.

"Of course he's drained—" It's surprising, Snotlout's voice could still be found annoying even if he's tired.

"In more ways than one, I'll say." The dark-haired Viking muttered under his breath, pushing his soup around the bowl.

He muttered it not low enough, though, as everyone had heard it. But they chose not to notice, probably just Snotlout being, well. . . Snotlout.

"So, did any of you remember what happened last night?" Hiccup asked, taking a spoonful of soup into his mouth.

The warm broth really helped to alleviate the pounding in his head, making it better for him now to remember bits and pieces of the events.

He remembered signing the treaty between another tribe and his, then a celebration party suddenly kicking off, with a mug of mead suddenly pushed into his hands, and dancing till he was spent in the Great Hall.

"I remember throwing someone's shoes in the fire, but that's about it." Ruffnut shrugged.

"So that's why. . ." Fishlegs said, looking down at his boots that were a foot too big for him, as they were his father's.

"All I remember was throwing up whatever I was drinking or eating last night 'til it was dawn," Astrid chipped in, her head now on the table, her eyes closed, trying to be comfortable.

The casual conversation of his friends made out to be great background noise, as he was remembering almost everything that happened to him, well, keyword: almost.

Blurry memories of him being supported by the shoulder by his friends, before a faint figure of a girl had popped up.

"Can you err— help the lad get home, lass?" Gobber's voice had asked, words slightly slurred from the uncountable cups of alcohol the man had drank already, plus the one he was holding.

"It'd be no problem at all." The girl's voice was genuine and filled with kindness—but even with the acceptance, Hiccup could tell the girl was also quite tipsy, as when Hiccup's lanky but lean body was shrugged off to her, she struggled with utmost dizziness, her steps jagged as she dragged the boy up to his hut.

The brunet Viking had blocked his friends' voices out now, his full, undivided attention was focused now on trying to replay the moments from hours earlier.

He could remember making small jokes with the girl, her laughing at anything now that she was also quite drunk, but then it came flooding back.

They had made it to the front of his hut after a great endeavor ,treading the multitude of stairs. The girl had let go of him, letting him stand by himself, even if he looked like he was about to tip over.

Maybe it was the liquid courage from the mead, or maybe Hiccup just wanted to test his luck, but what his past self said made his present self shocked at his own boldness.

"Do you. . . Want to come inside?" His smile was slightly askew, his hair was unkempt and messy, but it was all in a charming way.

And your reply made his past and present self blush.

"Well, who am I to deny a Chief?" You replied, and you both made your way inside.

After the door closed, everything turned into a blur of one another; Lips on one another, teeth clanking together, hands touching each other everywhere, and making out while trudging up the stairs.

You couldn't even ask if Hiccup was listening anymore to their conversation, his face was zoned out now, but his ears were definitely still turning flush like Hookfang's scales.

Hiccup was pushed down the bed, the girl looking up at him with a tug of his shirt, a silent request asking, 'can I take it off?'. He nodded at her, making the girl remove his clothes slowly, as if not to hurt him.

He was bare now, in front of the girl straddling him, who was still fully clothed.

If he wasn't sober, he would've hidden his face, or his whole body, before asking the mystery girl not to look, his face red with embarrassment. But he wasn't; and when he wasn't sober, Hiccup said and did things he would have never done.

"Aren't you supposed to be undressed too?" He asked, his eyes hooded.

The girl only shrugged, a smirk painting her face.

"I'll take your clothes off if you're too tired, c'mon." He pleaded, his hands on her waist, drawing circles.

"Hmm. . ." The girl put her hands on his chest, before placing them on his shoulders.

"Ask nicely, and maybe I will." She said cheekily.

"Well, can I please take your clothes off?" He obeyed the girl, begging the girl.

The girl's eyes were upturned, her smile as alluring as ever, a nod giving him an answer.

"Well, since you asked so nicely."

Hiccup could hear his friends calling his name—well, nickname. Is it still a nickname if you didn't approve of being called 'Hiccy'?

His head was filled with the aftermath of your answer, moans filling his ears, sweat glazing both of your bodies, kissing—oh, kissing. You both had done it to each other everywhere—his face, his neck, his chest. . . His legs, well, higher than that, he did the same to you, though, but that isn't important.

Then that was where it ended; maybe he passed out, but he couldn't remember what happened after that.

". . . Hiccy?"

Astrid's voice calling him that horrible nickname had finally made him push himself out of last night's memory. She never called him that, only the Twins did, so it was a weird sight to hear her say that.

"I— uh, yes— yes?" He turned to her, shaking his head slightly.

"No, I mean: Is that. . . A hickey?" The blonde girl had pointed to him, well, his neck area.

His eyes widened, before touching the part where the girl had pointed, which the others were currently looking at.

"Uhh, no. . .! Definitely. . . Not, it's not." He tripped over his own words, the Twins managing to pry his hand off the area, letting the red-ish purple bruise shine in all it's embarrassing glory for the gang to gawk at.

Most had laughed, scoffed a chuckle or two.

"Didn't know you had it in you." The blonde girl supported, a teasing smile on her face.

"Cool. . ." The Twins had said, looking at each other in mischief as they examined the spot.

"See? Told you he was drained in more ways than one." Snotlout had shrugged.

Fishlegs was quite unfazed about it, finding it a very intriguing topic. "Huh, never knew those red spots came from. . . That. I thought they always came from rashes."

"Guys, it's not—" Hiccup had tried to deny his friends' jokes, but a call using his name and a large, burly man had made his way to their table, a smaller figure in his shadow falling behind him.

It was the Chief of the other tribe he'd made the treaty with; The treaty that started the whole celebration party in the first place, maybe he shouldn't have agreed to that damned treaty.

He didn't have enough time for pessimistic thoughts, though, the other chief thanking him reaching his ears instead.

"Thank you, again. The hospitality you've given us is quite honorable."

"Oh, it's— it's nothing," He downplayed it, waving it off with his free hand, as the other one had quickly covered the hickey he had splotched on one side of his neck.

"No, really. You even had the time to teach my daughter about training Dragons last night, thank you." The large man nodded in respect.

"I— I did?" His eyes furrowed in confusion.

His. . . Daughter?

Before he could think of anything any further, you walked out of his shadow.

It was you; the girl who he let inside with a smile on his face, the one he shared wandering touches that left burns under his skin, the one who shared the whisperings of soft groans and pleasant sighs in the cover of night.

"Yes, you did." You answered politely, looking at him with a wink in your eyes.

"I— uh," He looked at you, then at your dad.

"I did! Yeah, sorry I forgot. The mead's probably gotten to my head."

Luckily, your father had chuckled, before patting the boy's shoulder in support.

"Don't worry. Frankly, it's gotten to mine too, lad." He then turned to you, who was still looking at Hiccup, with an expression that screamed of mischief.

The muscular Chief had called your name ever so wearisomely, before excusing himself to rest some more.

Before you knew it, you were left with Hiccup and the others, who were all looking at you, either shocked, unfazed, or flushing, as Hiccup was now.

You were standing in front of the table, looking at Hiccup with a coy smile.

"Well, how are you, Hiccup?" Your voice was sweet and kind, but the tone was a trap, a cover for what she really was saying.

"After last night's events, I thought you'd still be in bed." Your voice was so alluring, but your words meant two completely different things.

"Me? Oh— I'm, I'm just," He waved you off, looking to his food, the others who felt too awkward to say anything, then back to your modest self.

"As good as I'll ever be, y'know? Heh. . ." He trailed off, which you found quite adorable.

You hummed a reply to him.

"Well. . . I might be staying here, y'know?" You look down at you hands, twiddling them.

"You are?" Hiccup was sobering up by now, he could recall it all now clearly, especially when he looked at your eyes—when he did, he remembered every small flutter of your eyes, the curve of your figure shining through the moonlight, riding out your high as he did the same.

Shit, any more of this and he'll start to get hard again.

"My Dad's gonna be leaving soon, and he wants me to stay longer here—just to check out how you operate the Village, so he can confirm he made the right choice." You shrugged, your hands now behind your back.

"Well, y'know— I can assure you that he did."

"I'll have to see that for myself." You ended, nodding at the others as goodbye, turning to the exit of the Great Hall before quickly remembering something you almost forgot.

"Oh! And Hiccup?" You turned, meeting the brunet's eyes, standing to your attention.

"Yes, I mean— I, yeah?" He scrambled to sound chill, when he had most definitely failed.

"Do you think you could teach me more about Dragon Training later this evening? Back at your place again?" Your voice made him melt, and who was he if weren't to say yes? Whatever chiefly duties he had at that time, he would just ask his mother to cover for him.

"Uhm. . . Sure, definitely, I— yes." He agreed, to which your smile grew, before turning around again, the only thing Hiccup could see from your retreating figure was your hands interlocked together at your back as you walked away.

He didn't know what to feel, or what to conclude from this; Does this mean last night meant something? Did he do the right thing when he was drunk? What would his mother even think? Would he even tell his mother about this?

Probably not.

"So, does this mean we're getting an heir to the Haddock name sooner rather than later? Because—"

"Oh, shut up, Snotlout." Astrid had thrown the empty mug she was holding at the boy's head, hitting straight to the helmet, making him fall back off the bench. She had had enough of hearing the incredibly annoying boy for today.

"Ow," He said from the floor as he rubbed his helmet where the girl had hit him.

You might have been a few dozen steps away from the boy already, but there's one thought that crept into you that didn't allow you to forget about him:

He liked last night, and you did too. With your father gone and just you and Hiccup, will the events from last night transpire again?

With a tongue in your cheek as you walk through the Village, greeting the other Berkians with such an innocent and saccharine smile, you almost laugh out loud at your own thoughts—because later that evening in Hiccup's bedroom, when no one's around, you hoped and prayed to any Gods that something would happen.

wow i may be ovulating because what the hell did i just write (゜ロ゜) didnt think id ever see myself write a thirst oneshot for hiccup, but here i am ♪(´ε｀*)

did u like the fic? if you did, drop a note and dont be afraid to tell me what you think!

He went quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping to the forest floor. "You know, I’m...I’m really glad you came along this morning. I mean, it’s usually just me and Toothless, and while he’s great for conversation, his sarcasm is a little one-note."

"Is that so?" you asked, your heart doing a small, frantic skip. "And here I thought I was just here to make sure you didn't accidentally walk off a cliff while sketching."

"Well, that’s a very important secondary objective," Hiccup muttered, his cheeks tinging a faint pink. "But really. It’s...it’s nice. Having you here. It makes everything feel a little less...Hiccup-y."

You nudged his shoulder with yours. "Well, I like 'Hiccup-y.' It’s a good vibe."

Up ahead, Toothless slowed his pace. He paused, his large green eyes darting back to look at the two of you. He tilted his head, watching the way you both were walking—close enough to feel each other’s warmth, but with a wide, awkward gap between your swinging hands. To a dragon who relied on physical touch for bond-building, the lingering tension between you was practically a physical weight in the air.

Toothless narrowed his eyes. He recognized that look on Hiccup’s face—the 'I want to say something but I’m afraid my voice will crack' look. The dragon let out a low, mischievous chortle that neither of you noticed.

He circled back, trotting behind you both. With the stealth of a predator, he eased his large snout between you, specifically aiming for Hiccup’s side. With a deliberate, firm nudge of his head, he shoved Hiccup toward you.

The sudden movement caught Hiccup off guard. He lurched to the side, his hand brushing against yours. The contact was brief—just the rough texture of his hand against the back of yours—but it felt like a jolt of lightning.

Hiccup immediately recoiled, his face turning a shade of red that rivaled a monstrous nightmare. "Oh! Sorry! Sorry, I—Toothless, what are you doing?"

You laughed nervously, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "It’s fine, Hiccup. Just the wind, right?"

"Yeah. Very...very directed, dragon-shaped wind," he muttered, throwing a warning glare at Toothless.

But the dragon wasn't finished. He let out a huff, watching as the two of you actually moved further apart to compensate for the awkwardness. That was the opposite of what he wanted. He wanted the scratching, the cuddling, the "pack" behavior he saw in his head.

He waited for a moment when you were both looking at a particularly vibrant patch of wildflowers. This time, he didn't just nudge. He lunged forward with a playful, high-speed headbutt right into the small of Hiccup’s back.

"Woah—!"

Hiccup didn't just stumble this time; he was launched. He tried to catch his balance, his boots sliding on the damp moss, but gravity was a cruel mistress. In his panic, his arms flew out, catching your shoulders to try and steady himself, but all he did was take you down with him.

You let out a gasp as you fell backward, the world spinning for a second before you hit the soft, mossy ground with a dull thud. A split second later, the breath was knocked out of you as Hiccup landed squarely on top of you.

Silence fell over the clearing, save for the distant chirping of birds and the heavy, rhythmic panting of a very satisfied Night Fury.

Hiccup’s face was inches from yours. You could smell the charcoal and old parchment that always clung to him. His hands were pinned on either side of your head, and his eyes were wide with sheer, unadulterated terror.

"I—I am so, so sorry," he started, the words tumbling out in a frantic, high-pitched rush. "I have no idea what is wrong with him today. I think he ate some fermented fish or maybe he’s just—I’m going to ground him. Can you ground a dragon? I’ll find a way. I’ll build a very small, very sturdy hut. Are you okay? Did I break anything? I’m surprisingly heavy for someone who looks like a toothpick, I know, and I—"

"Hiccup," you breathed, trying to catch your breath.

"—and the moss is probably damp, and now your clothes are ruined, and my father is going to find out I killed my best friend by falling on them, which is a really pathetic way to go, honestly, and—"

"Hiccup," you said again, a bit louder, but he was spiraling.

"—I should probably get off you, but my legs aren't cooperating, and I think my heart is actually trying to exit through my ribcage—"

You didn't let him finish. Reaching up, you wrapped your hands around the back of his neck and pulled him down that final inch, pressing your lips firmly against his.

The effect was instantaneous. Hiccup went rigid, his rambling cutting off into a muffled squeak. For a heartbeat, he was as still as a statue. Then, slowly, the tension bled out of him. His eyes fluttered shut, and he leaned into the kiss, his hands shifting from the dirt to cup your face with a gentleness that made your heart ache. It was clumsy, sweet, and tasted like the crisp morning air.

When you finally pulled back, Hiccup was dazed, a goofy, lopsided smile spreading across his face. "Okay," he whispered. "That...that was a much better way to shut me up."

"I thought so," you teased, your cheeks warm.

From a few yards away, a loud, triumphant roar echoed through the trees. You both looked over to see Toothless tearing across the clearing like a madman. He was leaping over fallen logs, spinning in circles, and flapping his wings so hard he was kicking up a mini-cyclone of leaves. He paused long enough to look at the two of you, let out a "satisfied" gummy grin, and then resumed his victory lap.

Hiccup sighed, resting his forehead against yours. "He’s never going to let me hear the end of this, you know. He thinks he’s a genius."

"To be fair," you said, reaching up to run a hand through his messy auburn hair, "he kind of is."

Hiccup chuckled, finally pushing himself up but staying close, sitting on his knees beside you. He reached out, taking your hand in his—properly this time, fingers interlaced. "So...morning walk again tomorrow?"

"Only if the 'dragon-shaped wind' promises to behave," you joked.

Hiccup looked at Toothless, who was currently trying to catch his own tail in a patch of sunlight. "No promises. But I think I can handle the landing next time."

He helped you up, brushing the stray bits of moss from your tunic, his touch lingering a little longer than necessary. As you began the walk back toward the village, the forest felt even brighter than before, the silence no longer awkward, but filled with the quiet promise of everything that was yet to come.

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the first time was when he claimed toothless—a dragon, for the love of the gods—despite being from a village that despised and feared them over everything else. the second was when he decided to secretly train this same dragon, and the third was when he believed it was a good idea to fly for the first time on his back while still smiling like an idiot.

there were others, of course, far too many to count. battles, arguments, and absurd plans that still always worked for him because the idiot refused to believe in "impossible." and every time you said he was going to die or twist his neck, he came back whole.

hurt but still alive and with the same stupid smile.

you promised yourself you'd stop worrying so much. that you should stop counting. but it was difficult, because each wound, scar, and hole in the armor served as a reminder that hiccup horrendous haddock III never did things halfway. he pushed himself into life with his entire being, putting his heart first and consequences later.

and maybe, just maybe, that was one of the reasons you were drawn to him: his unstoppable strength and stubbornness, his heart so big it felt like it couldn't fit inside his chest at times, the way he never stopped when someone on the island needed saving, and the way he seemed to carry the world on his shoulders while still smiling as if nothing was happening.

thor, he drove you insane in ways no one else could.

that night was no different. the air still smelled of smoke and salt, heavy with the echoes of what had just ended. faint embers flickered across the clearing, painting his figure in shifting shades of orange and shadow. he stood a few paces away, shoulders tense beneath the battered armor, every inch of him carrying the memory of the fight.

you could see the bruises already blooming beneath the grime on his face, the small, uneven hitch in his step he was trying so hard to disguise. even now, when the danger had passed, he held himself like a man still braced for impact.

you exhaled soft and shook your head as you moved closer. “you really can’t go one week without almost dying, can you?”

he stared at you, surprised for half a second, before the familiar crooked smile appeared on his lips. “i it’s any consolation,” he said hoarsely, “i almost died saving the world again this week. that counts for something, doesn’t it?”

you rolled your eyes, but your heart sank anyway. “you always have an ‘excuse’.”

“and yet,” he said, titling his head, “you’re still here keeping counting.”

you wanted to argue, oh gods you wanted to smash his head and say you weren’t counting, that you didn’t care about him that much, but the words wouldn’t come. not when he was standing there, hair tousled, face streaked with soot, still somehow managing to look unfairly good.

motherfucker.

so instead, you sighed and reached for the first clasp of his armor.“someone has to make sure you don’t fall apart,” you muttered.

he let out a low, tired laugh. “guess i’m lucky that someone’s you.”

“lucky,” you said dryly, fingers working at another buckle, “isn’t exactly the word i’d use.”

he chuckled again—softer this time—the sound warm against the cool night air. “you’d miss me if i stopped getting into trouble.”

you paused and looked up at him. for a second, the world went quiet; the battle, the chaos, all of it fading away. “maybe,” you admitted quietly. “but i’d rather not have to patch you up every time just to prove it.”

he smiled faintly, his eyes tired but full of something deeper. “noted,” he murmured. “no promises, though.”

you shook your head, pretending to be annoyed even as warmth crept into your chest. because the truth was, you could never really stay mad at him for long. not when he looked at you like that, like he was making sure you’d come back alive, too.

silence stretched between you again, heavy with everything left unsaid. the waves crashed softly in the distance, and the dying fire cast a warm glow on his face. he stood there, armor battered, shirt damp with sweat, and you reached out instinctively.

“come here,” you murmured.

his big hands trembled slightly as you worked at the last clasps. each buckle came free with a quiet click, and one by one, the pieces of armor fell away. the heat of his skin seeped through the thin fabric of his undershirt when your fingers brushed him.

“you burned yourself here,” you said softly, tracing the reddened skin on his shoulder with your index finger.

“it’s nothing,” he replied, his voice low and raw.

“you always say that.”

he hummed, breathless. “and you always fix me anyway.”

you met his warm eyes, full of something that always left you off balance. “if i don’t take care of you,” you said, “who will?”

he smirked faintly. “you make it sound like I’m a walking disaster.”

“because you are,” you shot back.

that earned another quiet laugh. “maybe. but i’m your walking disaster, right?”

you opened your mouth to reply, maybe something teasing, maybe something truer than you meant to say, but stopped when he stepped closer. the space between you vanished, replaced by the heat of his body and the scent of smoke and salt.

“thank you,” he whispered.

“for?”

“for staying.”

your heart stuttered. you wanted to tell him always, but before you could, his lips brushed yours in a kiss. the kiss wasn’t careful, it was hungry, desperate, alive. his hand cupped your face, thumb trembling against your skin, and you grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer until there was nothing left between you but warmth and breath.

in an instant, you were no longer standing. he had pulled you closer, sitting down and drawing you onto his lap, the motion almost clumsy from exhaustion, almost too real.

your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and the world tilted, full of heat and the faint taste of smoke.

his lips crushed against yours again, rough and demanding, tongues tangling in a frantic, heated dance. his teeth grazed yours playfully, teasing and biting just enough to make you gasp and shiver. your own tongue met his, exploring, tasting, moving with the same desperate hunger, each kiss leaving you dizzy and burning all at once.

he nipped at your lower lip, then traced a path along the corner of your mouth, and you couldn’t help but whine against him, tugging him closer. your noses pressed together, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, the faint scent of smoke and salt wrapping around you both.

you tilted your head slightly, pressing your forehead to his, letting the world shrink until it was just the two of you—lips and tongues colliding, teeth grazing, breaths hitching in a messy, perfect rhythm. the heat of the battle, the warmth of his body, and the closeness of him pressed into you made your chest ache, pulse hammering in sync with his.

he pulled back just enough to catch his breath, forehead still resting against yours, eyes dark and breath ragged. “your disaster,” he murmured.

"Excuse me," timid hands carefully brought up mana crystals each the size of a finger. "How much can I pawn these mana crystals for?" He lays it down on a provided tray gently, as if afraid the meager crystal would break under the smallest of pressure. It glows dimly, it's light flickering, threatening to die out.

The cashier hums, her eyes widening ever so slightly as she stares at the dying crystals. She pauses, and he could feel her gaze sweeping over his dirty form. Though he no longer had the injuries that brought him near death marring his skin, the dirt and grime clung to his clothes even after the healing-evidence of his near death experience in one of the dungeons. Jinwoo clutches the sleeves of his hoodie, wondering if he made the worker uncomfortable with their presence. He was aware of how he looked. His appearance, when compared to the clean and elegant feel of the office, made him seem to be a beggar-and perhaps that's not far off what he really is.

He had picked up crumbs of the crystals the rest of the team didn't bother getting, hoping it would be at least worth something. Any amount would do, he'd be satisfied with chump change. This was his first dungeon run, and he couldn't afford to come back empty handed. He had a sister to feed, a mother at the hospital, and a house due for payment-he had to come back with at least something if he wanted to give Jinah a good life whilst both parents were out of the picture.

The worker walks away, taking the tray to be appraised. In the meantime, he stands by the reception, afraid of staining the provided seats with the filth that clung to him like second skin. Meanwhile, he plays with his fingers, lips curved into a frown. He awaits the appraisal with bated breath, praying for something-at least enough to buy his sister dinner. After all, she was still young, she needed food in order to grow up well.

His eyes water, but no tears leave his eyes. Instead his lips quiver, fingers desperately clenching around the other. Would he be able to make it through this week?

The receptionist soon returned with the crystals carried still on a tray. She places it on the desk, and Jinwoo swallows the saliva that gathers round his throat.

"So, how much?"

The receptionist curls her lips into a smile, the form slipping into a frown every now and then despite her attempts to keep it civil. Jinwoo's heart sinks at the sight, mistaking it to be disgust-he couldn't blame them, after all, he was dirty. "The mana crystals you've obtained can be exchanged for 73,000 won." The receptionist stammers, sounding almost unsure with her words.

Jinwoo doesn't pay it any mind, only focusing on the amount. He grins-it's not nearly close to what his other party members got, but it was something. Snd something was enough to make him happy. "Great." He smiles, relieved. "That's really great."

It's not big, not toothy, but it's there. It's a quiet smile, eyes crinkling just slightly, and the exhaustion that made his shoulders stiff loosens a bit.

"Would you like that in cash?"

Jinwoo nods, failing to notice the small tremble in your voice. The receptionist keeps its smile, and Jinwoo is returning it, albeit, more enthusiastically.

Jinwoo hears them clearing their throat and takes out an envelope. She slides it to him, crisp, clean, and fresh-he eagerly accepts it.

"The receipt and bills are inside. Please check if the amount is correct."

He opens the envelope, carefully counting each bill, ensuring the amount. When he finds that it's all correct, his smile grows wider, as if grounded by the fact that he really got this. He got it, this was his.

"I have enough to feed us now." He murmurs.

Turning to face the worker, he gives a bow a bit too low, still wearing the same smile. "Thank you very much."

The worker replies after a bit, hesitant in their tone. "We look forward to seeing you again, dear hunter."

"Hyung!"

Jinwoo hums, looking around the cave structured dungeon. "What?"

Jinho clutches the pickaxe in his hand. Though Jinwoo assured him he didn't need to do it, he stubbornly insisted, wanting to do something whilst Jinwoo did all the fighting-and his shadows did all the mining. "Well, we've already scavenged the gate for everything we can. Should we turn back now?"

Jinwoo quirks a brow. Looking around, he finds that, sure enough, Jinho's words rang true and the shadow soldiers had already mined every mana stone, as well as handled the carcasses of the monsters that littered around the dungeon.

All of the loots were lined up neatly. One side had grouped every mana crystal together, the other cores, the others fur-and more. Aesthetically and efficiently sorted, courtesy of Beru.

"Sure. Let's go back."

For a moment, his gaze lingers on the mana crystals. Not to gloat, but to remember where he came from. A stumbling, bumbling mess who picked up the leftover loot of the teams he joined. He could almost laugh at the irony-here he is now, getting a whole cart and more of them when he struggles to get even one proper ore back then.

"Hyung?"

"Let's go back." He pockets his hand, telling the shadows to stop and take the gathered loot out. "How many gates do we still have to go through?"

"Only two left. This one's an A rank-everyone's been avoiding this one because the last parties got wiped out. But the other's a C rank so we can rest easy there."

Jinwoo furrows his brows, interest piqued. "It's dangerously close to dungeon breaking." Jinho continues, recounting the information he's gathered about the gate. "Then we have to deal with it fast. Let's go."

"Yes, Hyung!"

You sighed, stretching your back languidly. Hours of facing the computer didn't do well for your posture-gosh you looked like a shriveled up shrimp by now.

"You look horrible." Your friend snickers, taking a peek through your cubicle.

"Thanks for stating the obvious, captain obvious." Disregarding her comment with a roll of your eyes, a small laugh escapes you despite your playful display of annoyance.

"So, how's being promoted to division lead of hunter support services feel like?"

"Horrible."

Rubbing your hand over your temple, you cringe at the thought of piled up paperworks and emails labelled as urgent you couldn't get around to answering just yet. "Gosh, I feel like I've aged thirty years already and It's only just been two months." You bang your head against your desk, already feeling your sanity slip away the longer you stay in this line of work.

Your friend hums, barely holding in a snicker. She takes a sip of her coffee, using it as a horrible cover up for her amusement at your suffering. "Well, fighting. You can do it! Just one more day before you finally get a day off!"

You look at your friend with narrowed eyes, nearing a glare as you scrutinize her form. She pays you no mind, only leisurely sips her coffee and even dares to wiggle her brows all the while keeping eye contact. You roll your eyes at her antics, but a small smile that twitches up your lips betrays your fondness for the eccentric woman.

As the conversation eases into quiet company, you busy yourself once more with your duties. She turns around, stands behind you with a hand on her hip as she finishes the last of her coffee.

"Still so hard at work, poor Cinderella. She saw the light and thought she'd find her happy ever after-only to learn the light wasn't salvation but the monitor screen shining during the ungodly hours at 1 am." She raises her plastic cup like it's a wine glass. "Who would've thought? It was actually foreshadowing the mountain of work you'd have-a warning if you will. Poor Cinderella didn't realize it at the time."

You stopped typing and glared up at her. "Are you here just to annoy me or what?"

She coughs and straightens up. "Ah, don't be so hostile! I came here to ask if you want to go eat dinner with me."

You quirked a brow. "Your treat?"

"My treat."

Another raise-higher than the last. "That's suspicious."

"What do you mean it's suspicious?"

"You and treat you in the same sentence? Sounds possessed."

"Hey!" Your friend huffs, playfully glaring at you. You giggle, eyes glinting with amusement. "You're saying that as if I'm super stingy with money."

"Oh? And you're not?"

She pouts, feeling half the urge to drill her knuckle on your head. "I'm not like that! Why are you mischaracterizing me."

You roll your eyes and give a half smug half smirk grin. "Oh really? Who are we convincing?"

She clenches her jaw and forcefully ignores your jab. "Are you going to come or not?"

You giggle, but shake your head no. With a resigned sigh, you look at your monitor like it was the reason for everything wrong in your life. "Unfortunately I can't go, I still have so much work to do. I think I'll have to do it overtime tonight."

"That so?" She hums, barely hiding her disappointment. "What exactly are you doing that takes so long? You've been overtiming for days already."

Heaving out a sigh, you grit your teeth and let out a humorless laugh. "Oh nothing, really. Just the paperwork backlog of a nation's worth of dungeon raids, appraisals, insurance reports, compensation claims, and a dozen angry calls from hunters who think the world owes them something because they didn't die this time."

"Oof. Sounds rough."

You groan. "Tell me about it." You slumped forward dramatically, cheek pressing against the cool desk surface with a heavy thud. "Do you think if I die here, they'll list it as a workplace casualty and give my family a pension?"

Your friend scoffed. "Please, you'd be reanimated by sheer guilt and unfinished paperwork."

Again, another groan mixed with a huff. "I was stupid. Blinded by greed. Now I see that the paycheck was an apology for all the nights I've lost dealing with irate hunters. Cruel business, luring in hope filled newbies with promises of promotion only to be thrown in a cage and forced to work like a show monkey without rest."

Your friend whistles. "Bit exaggerated, don't you think?"

You give her a glare. She raises both hands in mock surrender, a wry smile playing on her lips. One look is enough to convince her of your suffering, it seems. She pats you on the shoulders, encouraging you to brave through your battles.

"Fight on, soldier! You can do it. Want me to buy you coffee?"

You sigh through your nose. "Please do."

"Aye aye! Just be careful, too much caffeine is bad for your health."

"You're one to speak, coffee junkie."

She purses her lips. "Fair."

She hums, leaning down and taking a peek at your monitor, curious about what work you were currently busying yourself with. "What're you working on right now?"

"Nothing much, just checking and approving gate activities."

Your friend hums, a hand resting on your shoulder, the other on the desk. "Hunter guild, knights guild, white tiger guild-all big names, wow."

"What's so impressive about it? I'm just approving their requests to clear the dungeon, nothing more."

Your friend squints at the screen. You can feel the shift in her energy even before she says anything.

"Mmhmm. Sure. Nothing more."

You freeze.

She leans closer, the silence dripping with meaning. Then-"Oh. Would you look at that." Her voice is feather-light. Mockingly casual.

You don't want to look. You know what she's looking at.

"Ah... here we go again. The Ahjin Guild. That newly-formed, small independent guild with exactly the bare minimum amount of hunters. And would you look at that-mhm great-his application is stamped, signed, and processed before the White Tiger Guild's. Even though they submitted theirs first by one day."

You close your eyes, already feeling your soul wither at having been caught playing favorites. "Please go away."

"Nope. Not a chance. We're talking about this." She spins your chair around, hands on the armrests to keep you in place like a warden interrogating a very guilty criminal. "You bumped him up the list again, didn't you?"

You sigh, looking away and quickly reasoning yourself, "There was a timing issue, and it's an A-rank gate near break and Jinwoo's fast and efficient and better than-"

"Don't you dare act like this is about public safety." She points an accusing finger, you flinch a smidge. "You did this last week too. You act like you're just doing your job but you're literally giving VIP treatment to a guy who probably doesn't even remember your name. Unethical work ethics. You are the very embodiment of corruption."

"Rude." You grumble, the tips of your ears burning in both shame and embarrassment. "There's no particular ground breaking motive here. I'm just doing my job and considering who works fastest. For the safety of the citizens. And it's not all the time-just a few dungeons here and there."

You turn your chair around to face your monitor-your one true companion through your overtime.

"...right. and I'm the president of the hunters association." Her eyes narrow to form a glare.

"Just shut up and look the other way. You're not helping." You focus your attention on your work instead, trying to mute her out, knowing her choice of words was about to get lengthy. "I just want to help a poor soul out."

"And that poor soul is now one of the-if not the strongest S-rank hunter in korea. With a guild. And good looks-heavy on that by the way. I doubt he needs your help anymore."

"Well yes but-"

"But but-but what? He might need more?"

"Yes."

"His co-founder's a nepo baby, [name]. A nepo baby. He has enough help." Your fingers smash against the keyboard in frustration. She doesn't stop-only continues to grill you for your display of bias. "Do you like him or what?"

A pause. You flinch. Your friend's quick to notice your sudden freeze, and pieces things together.

"No way, you really do?" She gasps, hand on her mouth and all the dramatics. Your face burns, but you power through it and keep your attention on the screen.

"So what if I do? Just leave me alone." You murmur, voice trembling as you fight the urge to run away-you knew this crush was stupid. It's been years, and you still haven't gotten over that silly fondness you felt for the man, even after he's risen through the charts and became stronger.

"...oh my." She blinks, not having expected such forward admittance. "I..."

"I don't know what's worse, you liking that guy back when he was nothing more than a stick posing as a human-"

"That's rude. He was nice and tenacious. He was also hard working and selfless, always smiling and all."

"Uhuh sure sure." She ignores you, and you huff in annoyance. "Or the fact that you like him enough to make your life harder when he doesn't even know you."

"He does know me." You grumble under your breath.

"And that's only as that one nice miss receptionist who always handles his appraises! He doesn't even know you docked money from your own pay to make his own things worth at least something!"

"I don't expect anything from him!" You huff, raising your voice just a tad before sighing. You settle on a quieter tone, mindful of your current place. "I'm just happy to see he's doing well."

"Oh he's doing more than well alright. Have you heard of the rumors? Cha Hae-in and that same Sung Jinwoo might be getting a little too chummy with each other lately."

You pause. Your lips part slightly, but no sound comes out. You blink a few times, fast and uneven, like your brain is buffering. The words hit harder than you expect even when you knew it was coming, lodging somewhere in your throat. You try to laugh it off-something dry and short-but it catches halfway, turns into a small, deep inhale.

"I mean, it's just rumors," your friend adds quickly, her tone suddenly shifting when she catches the look on your face, doing a whole 180 from her teasing demeanor. "They always say stuff about Hunters, right? People ship anyone who-"

"Yeah," you whisper, and your voice trembles just enough to make her stop mid-sentence. You try to type again, but your vision grows blurry. Lucky for you, you already memorized the entire layout of the keyboard enough to be confident that you were typing the right thing even if you didn't see it. Perks of working too much.

"Of course. That makes sense. She's... She's amazing. Strong. Pretty. Actually relevant to his life. Unlike me. I just sit in my office doing boring stuff no one bothers to pay attention to."

"Wait-no, hey, you know I didn't mean-" she reaches for your shoulder, voice laced with panic as she feels her impending, feeling like an irredeemable villain for making her friend cry. "Gosh, are you crying? Oh no. No, no, no. Please don't cry. Not here-I didn't mean it like that, I swear!"

"I'm not crying," you croak, blinking rapidly as your lashes stick together. "I just-it's fine. I knew. I always knew. I was never-he was never-" Your words stumble and collapse even as you try to stay strong.

Your friend scrambles, digging through her bag. "Do I have tissues? I don't. Great. Wait-why don't I have tissues? I always have tissues. I swear this bag eats them right when I need them." She pauses looking around. "Here, here-take my sleeve. No, wait, that's gross. Sorry, I don't want to go about my day with snot on my sleeves-no offense."

She looks around again. "Here, use my scarf. Wait, that's expensive. No-actually just-just cry on me, it's fine. Just don't look like that, you're making me feel like the villain in a drama-"

You blink, watching her panic and stumble out words. He lets out a laugh, watery and small, and she exhales like she just avoided a total meltdown.

"Gosh, you really do like him," she mutters, voice gentler now as she puts a comforting hand on your back. "You idiot. You sweet, quietly heroic idiot."

You sniffle, wiping your tears aggressively. "Shut up. I know I'm hopeless."

Your friend huffs, shaking her head. "That so? I do hope your luck turns around and you find a nice guy out there."

"Thanks. You too."

The new A rank dungeon was a wonder. Admittedly, Jinwoo was fascinated by its workings. It worked differently from the rest, instead of only requiring brute force, it included testing your mental fortitude.

"I don't like this dungeon, it's gloomy and eerie." Jinho muttered, sticking close to Jinwoo so as to not get lost.

The dungeon was unforgiving, comrades were lost if one got too far apart, the most blocking your perception. Right when you're at your most vulnerable does it strike-taking the shape of the one you hold dear in your heart and with their face do they strike as you lower your guard.

Though he himself admitted to falling for it once as it took the shape of Jinho, the dungeon's gimmicks soon became obvious when he found his younger sister inside the dungeon when she shouldn't be, followed by the discovery of the very distinct mana signature the monsters specifically gave off.

The boss was even more curious. It was simply a large mirror with a faceless mask trapped inside the shards.

As they reached the end of the palace structure dungeon-the throne room, they expected a powerful foe. Maybe something like Igris, or a king and a queen-not a human sized mirror-not dozens of mirrors pointed to him, each peeking through his past and picking apart what they could use.

"Hyung! I'm gonna die! Please don't let go of me!" Jinwoo flinches, feeling Jinho cling to him tightly. "Calm down you won't die-there are shadows assigned to you, they'll protect you if things go wrong." He says chidingly.

"You can't be sure of that! Please let me cling to you just this once, Hyung!"

Jinwoo sighs, but pats his head nonetheless in wordless assurance. "Do what you like."

And so the battle began. The tricks were clever, it certainly would've worked on anyone other than Jinwoo.

As shards broke open and out came mangled monsters daring to mold their faces into perfect copies of the people he encountered, screeching as a neverending stream of black tears ran down their cheeks, his shadow soldiers began to work.

Beru and Igris made quick work of the mirrors that would duplicate like a cell doing mitosis-but they eventually managed to pierce through the very body-the very mirror that initiated such spells after, honestly? not long.

With a decisive strike of Igris' sword slashing down on the main body, the illusions quickly fell apart in one fell swoop. They crumbled like sand and merged with the ground, the mirrors fading away into mists before usurping back into the main body, now cracking and in tatters.

"I've...lost." the mask beneath the mirror murmurs, but its lips do not move.

Igris raises his longsword, preparing to deal the final blow. Jinwoo raised a hand to stop Igris.

The knight paused mid-swing, frozen in obedience.

The mirror pulsed, weakly now, its light flickering. From within, the faceless mask shifted ever so slightly, the faintest ripple crossing the surface of the shattered glass. The voice came again, not spoken aloud, but echoing inside Jinwoo's mind.

"Ask."

His brows furrowed. "Ask what?"

The mirror shimmered, threads of mana spinning like veins across the fractured glass. "Ask me anything. I will answer. It is your reward for clearing this dungeon... Brave warrior."

There was a beat of silence as the air stilled, Jinho behind him too shocked to breathe. Both mouth and eyes wide in surprise, he urges Jinwoo to come closer with a push. Jinwoo allows himself to be whisked along with a frown. The dungeon was strange from the start, and now this? How odd, truly odd. But curiosity stirred in his chest-dangerous, but irresistible.

"...Who made you?" he asked first, testing its truth, its willingness to share.

"I was born of collective yearning-a desire to know what cannot be known. A mirror not of flesh, but of the soul."

Cryptic, but...fascinating.

He tried again. "Why were you set here?"

"To protect the answers. To test who is worthy of asking."

"Then let's test this," he muttered, stepping closer to the crumbling mirror. He looks at the mask through cracked shards and asks. "Do you hear voices that tell you to kill humans??"

A moment, the shards flicker with light and build together. "We-[REDACTED]" the shards tremble, as if unable to bear the weight of the truth, and then split apart in several little pieces.

Jinwoo watches on with unease, disappointed to learn that the mirror was no different than the others despite claiming to answer his questions with nothing but the truth. Then again, it most likely isn't their fault, something was purposefully censoring key details, preventing him from learning the full truth.

He sighs, but he doesn't let it get him down in the mud. He pauses for a moment to consider another question, then again, what does he want to learn? Everything he wants to learn is kept hidden away from him, and there's nothing else that comes to mind.

He stares at the fractured mirror as its glow dimmed, faint pulses of mana still flickering weakly through the cracks, clearly reaching its end. This thing knew things-it showed things. Not necessarily everything, clearly, but enough to dig under his skin. Enough to make him feel eerie.

It had shown him faces. People he already knew loved him-family, Jinho. Obvious answers. Emulated their appearance down to the smallest details, copied their voices to their very own speaking quirks-it was clear that this boss was no usual monster. It utilized human connection, using their own bonds in order to make unsuspecting victims fall to their trap.

And so now he wondered—just how deep did its knowledge run?

Maybe it was the strangeness of the dungeon. Maybe it was the lingering quiet that came with not having to fight for once, with not needing to survive, just to ask.

Maybe he just wanted to test the mirror's limits.

He sends Jinho off to gather the materials.

Jinho, ever the obedient one quickly listens, reserving his own questions for later as he hesitantly walks away with a pickaxe in hand.

Jinwoo waits after he's a few feet away, and when he feels Jinho's presence is no longer as obvious, he finally asks. After a long pause, he murmured-not quite serious, not quite joking-

"Who loves me the most?"

A moment, and then the shards flicker in acknowledgement of his words. A beat, and the floating shards merge with one another to present him a clear picture of his family.

Painted in vivid image, was his family-simply going about their day-reflected in the mirror. A smile on their face, a laugh as it morphs to shift the scene into a present event.

Jinwoo's eyes widened, then softened. A small smile emerges from his usually straight lined lips. His family was fitting-and even if he knew it already, it still warmed his heart nonetheless.

Then he moves onto another, willing the reflection to fade and the mirror to go back to its own original shape.

He thinks for a moment, pondering what to ask next. Then, disarmingly, he asks a question he doesn't expect an answer to. Just for curiosity's sake and nothing more.

"Who loves me the most? Romantically."

The mirror whirrs, flickers, then the light fades. He expected that to be the end of it. However, after a second more, the shard stores once more and slowly connects with one another.

Light refracts, blinding him for a split second before a picture is formed and a face is known.

Surprisingly enough, it wasn't Hae-in who appeared-a woman he didn't know much of outside of his brief encounters with her-a woman who also admitted interest when she expressed her desire to join his guild-but another face took shape.

It was familiar enough to make Jinwoo's eyes light up with recognition, but also stranger enough to make Jinwoo doubt the authenticity of the answer.

Your image showed in the mirror, typing away at your cubicle. Unassuming, just doing your work, unaware that you were being peered at by a boss monster, unaware that he's watching you through it.

You?

He remembers you as a kind soul. A face he's come to know during his days as an E-tanker. You were nice, if not the very epitome of professionalism. You took him in even when he came at closing time to have his goods be appraised.

He remembers buying you a drink from a vending machine once whilst you were out-just a small thank you from him to you for always accepting him at your desk when others were reluctant.

But that was the extent of your direct contact outside of work. Any other time only included appraisals and applications to join certain dungeon raiding teams.

He never truly knew you outside of work.

And that made you showing up all the more surprising.

"Is this a mistake?" Jinwoo asks-not offensively, but moreso surprised.

After all, you were always professional, quick to the point. Sure, maybe you offered him a few encouraging words once, but you never pushed further.

You liked him?

The mirror doesn't stop its projection. Jinwoo stares at it, outwardly expressing no emotion.

He didn't know what to make of it, he had asked that question on a whim and now that he's gotten an answer he didn't account for, he's unsure how to tread now.

Come to think of it, he hasn't seen you much recently. You were no longer in the reception acting as a receptionist, and he hasn't been visiting the official office, preferring to pawn his loot somewhere else he could get much more worth from.

And yet to think it still showed your face...

He couldn't quite erase the thought of you on his mind now.

The last dungeon was an easy clear.

It was almost laughable how easily he defeated the boss and its lackeys. If the him of the past saw him now he'd surely be spell wondered.

As everyone began their rightful work with Jinwoo doing absolutely nothing for the most part, he walked around the dungeon with such laxness like it was his birth right to do so.

His hands are kept in the pockets of his coat, observing everyone as they diligently take everything of worth, careful to not damage any goods.

Jinwoo's gaze lands on the shadow soldiers picking the mana crystals.

For a moment, he pauses and just watches. And remembers the first time he went on a dungeon run.

He nearly died then. By the time the raid was finished be obtained nothing of worth.

He remembers picking up the little chunks left after everyone mined every crystal in the vicinity then, hoping he would get something from these sharp pieces of faded crystals.

He did get one in the end, didn't he? A silver lining after nearly dying, he had managed to exchange it enough for dinner and a little bit of something.

But...

Jinwoo walks towards the busy shadow soldiers. Everyone in the vicinity halts their actions and salutes their own monarch.

He pays them little mind, urging them to go back to clearing the dungeon before the gate closes and the cave falls apart.

He looks at the crystal vein, mostly cleared of everything except a few stray chunks here and there that were worth little to nothing. Jinwoo narrows his eyes, smiling a bit at the memory. This view was familiar, but he no longer needed to pick up the little pieces that fell off larger chunks to make money anymore.

Yet still he picks it up. Kneeling down to one knee, he picks up a small chunk-barely the size of his ring finger and lifts it up.

It dimmed faintly, the mana almost gone from the crystal. Strikingly similar to the same one he gave to be appraised, and, funnily enough, the very same person who worked on it was also you.

"Jinho"

"Huh? Yes?" Jinho stands up, his attention to Jinwoo.

"How much is this crystal worth?" He points his gaze to the one in his hand.

"Mana crystals? Well, with how much we got they're at least worth a couple million."

"Not that," Jinwoo cuts off. "This." He extends the crystal to Jinho. "How much is this worth?"

"Huh, that?" Jinho blinks, confusion gracing his features. He leans closer, observing the crystal.

"I don't think it's worth anything, the glow's dim and it's small too." He hums, brows furrowed. "But I guess it's just pocket change like ten thousand?"

Jinwoo blinks. "I see. So it's only worth that much, huh."

He stares at the fading crystal.

And smiles fondly.

The first time you met Jinwoo he was, to be blunt, pathetic.

His hair's akin to a bird nest, and that's not an exaggeration. Hoodie torn and filthy, you could tell from the start he was a struggling hunter. He entered late into the night, when no other hunters lingered and the time was nearing for the building to close.

He was an oddball, but then again, you've already encountered one too many oddballs during your time working here as a receptionist, so that was nothing new.

Still, unlike most hunters that reeked of arrogance, this one was meek, hesitant yet nonetheless determined. He held something close to his chest, both hands wrapped around a handkerchief that held something small-powder? Food? Money? You didn't know.

"Seriously? Who comes here during closing time!" Your coworker huffs, drained after a long day of dealing with irate hunters who thought they were better than they actually were and thus should be worshipped.

"Technically it's still not closing time." You reply, watching the meek hunter look around before settling on the receptionist desk.

"That's true too but still," they sigh, laying their head against the desk. "They should know that this window time is rest time before cleaning up time."

You roll your eyes at her theatrics, but laugh nevertheless. "Okay drama queen, I'll deal with it."

"Hurray! You're the best." She mutters, closing her eyes and grinning as she revels in peace. "The hard working award goes to you, definitely." You brush her off with a wave, heading back to your station to take the hunter's request.

With practiced motions, you greet the feeble looking hunter. With a customer service smile, offering him a tray in order to fulfill the purpose of his service.

He handed in broken chunks of mana crystals. Barely worth anything, you could tell at a first glance. As he parts with the very thing he kept close to his chest, you observe the dimming light of the crystals, heart panging with pity.

His hand trembles as he places it, and you take it back after he puts every last pebble on the tray. Your gaze flickered to the crystals then to the man-wide grey eyes looking down as his arms embraced himself.

Your eyes softened ever so slightly, and the image of the struggling hunter made your lips curl into a pitiful frown.

It started as a simple pity.

That was all it was.

When you learned all it got him was chump change, you cast another glance on the poor soul who waited with his back crouched and his hands clasped together in a prayer. One more look at the price, and you decided to add more.

"Sorry, can you add sixty thousand there? I'll pay for it."

The appraiser quirks a brow. "You sure that's alright, lady?"

"Mhm," another glance, and your reservations all but disappear. "The guy looks like he needs it."

He follows your gaze, and sure enough, the boy was in tatters. Unfortunate looking and just,,, sad. He shrugs then adds the value, and you pay him quick with cash.

"The mana crystals you've obtained can be exchanged for 73,000 won." You say, stuttering for a moment as you lied about the total.

You watched him gasp, then grin widely, a frown threatening to make itself known. You forced it down, keeping a professional persona as he rejoiced for something so little. Compared to his group that most likely obtained millions, what he got was too little in comparison.

And yet, despite the difference he still smiled at the amount. Sympathy hit you like a ten ton truck and made your heart clench for the man in front of you.

You pause, mulling over your words before eventually settling on a simple: "We look forward to seeing you again, dear hunter."

"M'finally off work at last." You groan, rubbing your shoulders to free it of its stiffness.

"[Name]!" Heels clacked along the marble tiles of the building.

You hum, fluttering your eyes open as you quirk up a brow. A girl, young-still unaffected by the gravity of the working world-bright and fresh approached you with a troubled look. She's also been a friend you made-that one moment you helped her deal with a prissy client really stuck and since then she's been following you around and talking with you when she had the time. You welcomed her of course, you weren't one to deny good intentioned people.

"What is it?"

"Uhm, there's someone in the reception asking for you specifically to handle their workings."

You blink. "But I don't work as a receptionist." Not anymore.

She bites her lip, fiddling with her fingers. "Yes but, they really insisted on having you do it."

Another long, drawn out blink. "Then turn them down. Get them out of the desk-tell them I'm no longer in the building or something."

She flinches, and averts her gaze. "Well, about that..." She looks around, looking for what words to use. "We can't exactly do that..."

"Can't? Why not?"

"Well it's..." She pauses, then sighs. "It's the new S rank-Sung Jinwoo requesting for you."

Silence. Cuckoo.

"Sorry can you repeat that for me? I think I misheard something."

"Sung Jinwoo is requesting for you."

You part your mouth, raise a finger, and tilt your head. "You're joking."

"I wouldn't joke about something like this!" She huffs, "I was shocked myself! He came here and suddenly asked for you!"

"Did he push for me?"

"No he said it was fine if you weren't around-but how could I reject a pretty face like that?!" You deadpan. "And I'm doing you a favor by helping you get in touch with him-you might end up together you know? You might end up together you know?!"

"Woah there, pause." You put a hand on her shoulder, "we are not getting together. He doesn't even know me!"

"But he asked for you."

"We don't know why."

"It's because he's interested in you."

"No it's not."

"What other reason is there?"

You shrug. "Anything but the one you're suggesting."

She frowns. "You don't know that for sure."

"And we also don't know for sure if he's interested in me."

"But he might!"

"And that's a big fat might." You pat her on the shoulder, squeezing it softly. "Now let's go, alright? We can't keep a man of his status waiting."

She opens her mouth to argue, but you keep it shut by putting a hand over her jaw. Turning her around, you drag her by the shoulder and guide her towards the reception desk.

"Off we go. Let's get it over with quickly so I can finally go home." You drawl, not expecting much from his visit.

As you reach the desk, the view finally becomes clearer and clearer.

And there did you see Sung Jinwoo for the first time since he ranked up. Tall, lean-with sharper features that made him look like an entirely different person. Innocence now faded from his eyes and was instead replaced with something colder, unreadable. There was a weight to him now-like standing too close to a cliffside and realizing the wind had teeth. You stopped, not out of awe or fear, but sheer instinct. Like your body knew before your mind did: this was someone to tread carefully around.

This was the Sung Jinwoo of now. No longer a withered stick with a bright smile, but a terrifyingly powerful man with the strength of a thousand men.

Your breath hitched. Finally seeing the man you've been helping behind closed doors in person admittedly made you feel a bit nervous, but it was nothing you could hide.

With a step as your friend skidded to the side, you took in a deep inhale and prepared to accommodate him.

It's been a few days since Sung Jinwoo discovered the truth through the answers the mirror had shown. To his dismay, he was unable to extract the monster and furthermore was left to deal with the answers alone. Mulling over it again and again, more than he admitted he did.

It wasn't that he was interested as well per se, but he felt a bit of confusion and maybe even a smidge of appreciation for your constant support.

And so, after a few more days spent thinking of you and your supposed interest, he finally made his move. If not to confess, then to put an end to this as respectfully as he could. Express his appreciation for everything you've done and pay back the favor, because if anything else, Jinwoo doesn't like keeping favors unreturned.

"Excuse me," Jinwoo approached the desk where you once stood, however, instead of your face, another graces him instead.

"Yes, how can I help you?"

He hesitates, wondering if he should push further. "Is anyone named [name] here?"

The receptionist blinked, then glanced down at the system. "Ah...[Name]? She doesn't usually work at the front anymore."

"I know," Jinwoo said, his tone quiet but firm. "But I'd like to speak with her, if possible."

She hesitated, clearly caught off guard. "Um-may I ask who's requesting?"

"Sung Jinwoo."

The name dropped like a stone into still water. Her spine straightened a little too fast. "Oh! O-Of course, please wait here-just a moment!"

She practically bolted into the back, heels tapping a frantic rhythm across the tile, leaving Jinwoo standing there with his hands folded behind his back.

He waits for a few moments before she eventually comes back, a familiar face in tow. Jinwoo's back straightened once he took in your presence, fixing his posture as you approached the desk with the trademark professionalism he eventually came to associate with you.

"Sir Sung Jinwoo." You nodded, uniform still somehow crisp despite just getting off work. "How can I help you?"

You were always perfection personified, speech not too fast nor too slow, a disarming smile, and the efficiency of an entire workforce. He smiles ever so slightly at that, ever so prim and proper despite everything. He doubted if you truly liked him based on your demeanor alone, all professionalism despite the quiet tire that you carry through your mannerisms.

"Sorry to have bothered you," he begins, facing the desk fully now. "Can you appraise this for me?"

He hands over a chip of mana crystal, barely worth anything, strikingly similar to the one he brought the first time he came. To the very crystal you kept in your home since the appraisers insisted on not needing such junk.

You look at the crystal on his hand, then back at him. His face doesn't give anything away, only infuriating nonchalance as he hands over the little crystal.

"Pardon?" You look at him, partly confused. A beat of silence, and you sighed and accepted the crystal. "Very well, I'll have it appraised."

Placing it on a tray, you hum and take it to the machine to have it appraised. People working here have it easy now-they have machines to appraise it now instead of waiting for a real appraiser to grade the goods. You barely managed to reach this time, having switched your line of work a few months after this new invention was created and used by the front desk.

The machine beeps after a few minutes, coming back with the saddening worth of 15,000 won. You look at the amount, then at Jinwoo who seemed to have a knowing glint in his eyes.

What is this man planning?

Despite suspicion crawling in your skin, you pay it no mind and offer it back to him. Showing no signs of your inner feelings. "The crystal can be pawned for 15,000 won. Would you like to pawn it?"

You tell him the price, no longer fabricating it now that you were sure he had enough money. He didn't need you increasing the amount anymore, didn't need your help anymore.

"Fifteen thousand?" You tense as he begins, confused on where he was leading this. "That's odd, I was sure it would be worth at least seventy thousand. Like before."

You stiffen at the mention, eyes betraying you and growing wide for a few seconds. You pause, unsure how to go about his words. A flicker of hesitation, and Jinwoo quickly grabs it and refuses to let go.

"I've been wondering for a while," Jinwoo said smoothly, gaze unwavering, "now that I have plenty of greater mana crystals I know what qualifies as good or bad. Enough to recognize that the ones I brought were more often than not unusable."

You stared. "It wasn't entirely unusable, the people and the machine recognized that."

Jinwoo ignores your words. "And yet still I managed to get enough to sustain myself as well my sister-barely."

You furrow your brows, heart picking up its pace as he slowly built up to the scenario you feared the most. "That's great then, Hunter Sung."

"I may not have the best memory but I know that what I've given was worth less than what I received.

You kept your face calm, neutral, with the clinical poise of someone who's talked down violent clients and survived six-hour meetings. But inside, your organs were having a full-on boardroom meltdown. Your brain tried to file through excuses like it was racing to clean the living room before guests arrived.

"I see," you trailed, carefully. Playing dumb to the best of your capacity. "So. You've come to accuse me of charity?"

Jinwoo's lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but something just barely amused. "You're not denying it."

"Only because denial would imply guilt," you shot back, lifting your chin, feigning confidence-something you did great. "And all I really did was slightly increase the amount to reflect the hypothetical value if it were perhaps... shinier."

"By several thousand won."

"Consider it an inflation forecast." You quickly retorted, barely bothering to think before speaking.

He laughed softly at that-nothing too drastic, just a smaller buckle under his breath brought by sheer disbelief. And so now you were really sweating internally. Though your face didn't budge-refused to budge-but the composure was barely hanging on by a thread and three paperclips.

"I wanted to thank you," he said, voice lower now, calmer, brushing off your earlier words. "for your help back then. I didn't realize what you were doing until later. You didn't owe me anything, but you still helped. Even without my knowledge."

You averted your eyes for a second. This was not how this entire was supposed to go. He was supposed to be clueless. Left unaware of your own deeds-ignorant and in bliss while you cheer him on at the sidelines.

"I see." You said after swallowing thickly. "Is that all?"

"No, it's not." He steps forward, leaning against the desk as he meets your gaze with his own grey ones. "I wanted to ask how I can return the favor. I refuse to leave any favors-even ones I don't know -to be left unpaid."

You blinked. Then, without thinking, blurted out: "Then let's have coffee before we delve into this."

"Are you a regular here?"

You nod, blinking once before facing him. The place you chose was quiet-tucked away in a corner of this lively city. Blanketed by the warm atmosphere and low hum of chatter from the other tables, you chose it a perfect spot to continue this conversation-it wasn't far too, just a few steps away which was an added bonus.

You sipped your coffee quietly, silence overtaking you and Jinwoo as you sat in front of the other.

Jinwoo's eyes flick over to you. Your posture straight, albeit, more relaxed than when you were on duty. Your lashes fluttered as you enjoyed the taste, savoring the good cup with a small smile.

He listens to the small hum of delightment you make as you relish the taste, and he finds his lips twitching to form a smile as well. He quickly restrains it, brushing off the urge as nothing more than a passing will.

He takes the time to observe you. Now you sat in front of him, free from the shackles of work, talking outside of your profession-outside of the roles the desk had set for the two of you.

Days had worn on you, exhaustion evident, yet you remain radiant all the same. You don't hold yourself with the perfection you've strived for in the name of great service, choosing to relax as if you were with a friend instead.

"First thing's first," you say as the cup meets the saucer-still half full-after deciding the silence stretched on for long enough. "I'll get this out of the way—I like you."

Jinwoo nearly chokes on his drink, taken aback by the suddeness of your announcement. He coughs softly, unaware of how to take your blunt admittance.

"I see." He mumbles, nearly stuttering at his own words despite how few there were. He knew you liked him, the mirror told him-but it was still different to hear it from the person nonetheless.

He breathes out a shaky exhale, not quite expecting you to be this blunt about the subject matter.

"I like you." You repeated, making sure he got the point, and consequentially making the tips of his ears red as he's rendered unsure how to tread this situation. "So I don't expect you to do anything for me. Really. Please don't feel indebted.,

"I'm sorry, I don't feel the same." He states, making that one matter clear, before moving onto the next topic. "But still, I want to repay you for your favor."

"It's not a favor." You murmur.

"Then your grace."

You still, look at him, then sigh. Heavily. Like you were already regretting this despite not signing up for it.

Jinwoo didn't like that.

"State your price—I'll give you anything. Anything that's within reason, at least."

"Anything?"

"Anything." He parrots with certainty.

You lean back on your chair. "That's a dangerous word you're just tossing around."

He doesn't answer, only keeps his gaze fixated on you with that same, rigid and serious expression he often wore.

Your nails tap lightly against the ceramic of your cup, eyes narrowing-not in malice or anger-in hesitant amusement.

"Then, entertain me." You take another sip of your coffee, made just how you liked it-and place it down. "Five dates."

"Pardon?"

"Dates. I want five dates with you. Not one, not two-but five."

He blinks, then furrows his brows in suspicion. "Dates? Just that?"

You reply with a nod, he leans back for a moment, surprised. "Even if I told you I don't feel the same?"

A shrug, and consider Jinwoo speechless. "You don't have to feel the same-just entertain this whim of mine." You rest your chin on your palm, carrying yourself with the same ease-acting as if you hadn't just blatantly asked him out. "But it's also fine if you don't want to. You can leave and still you won't owe me anything-no strings attached."

He's surprised by the calm you retain, but then notices the rhythmic tapping of your finger against your cheek, growing faster every second that passed with your request left unanswered.

"That's it?"

"That's it. You just have to bring yourself—I'll plan for everything. You don't have to like me back, but don't run away either."

He doesn't know if he should be honored or impressed by your insistence-no one's ever shown him this level of interest before. Well, perhaps one(Hae-in) but even she wasn't as bold as you-seizing chances whilst wearing the face of nonchalance.

"Deal. Five dates then."

A beat, and you allow yourself a smile. Small, mildly bashful yet not quite shy. Your lashes flutter, and warmth envelopes your cheeks. Head tilting to the side, you look at him like a smug cat.

"Great, I'll be looking forward to those, then."

And for a moment, he swears his heart pitter patters.

You must have gone insane.

That's the only conclusion you come up with as you arrive at your home, having mulled over the conversation a hundred times on your way home. There's no mistaking it-you really were insane.

You reach your bed, hugging one of the available pillows as your eyes remain wide and blank.

You're insane.

Hugging the pillow close to your chest, you wait for a few moments to load the fact that you're now in a safe place before finally-finally losing your mind.

You scream and bury your face against your pillow, rolling around to get rid of the nerves.

Scream. Then followed by a particularly harsh kick against your bed as you roll over to the other side. Another scream-followed by your hands letting go of the pillow and grabbing your head instead.

"I must be out of my mind. What was I thinking?!" You whined, face a grimace-a whole 180 from the nonchalance you showed to Jinwoo just a few hours ago. "Why would I-"

A sharp inhale, and then a silent scream. "Why would I say that?!?!"

"Five dates." You mimic yourself from hours prior, over exaggerated and overtly stuff as you cross your arms and put one leg over the other. "Go out with me for five dates or else....."

"Aaagh!" You groan, body heating up at the thought of it alone. "Stupid stupid stupid stupid! Why would you ask that?! Why would you even do that?! Are you stupid????"

You nearly cry from sheer embarrassment alone. There's an inexplicable urge to dig a 10 foot hole and bury yourself alive, hoping for the best(dying) and letting this matter go. "I should just die. Yes, that's right. I'll die. Mhm. I should die."

You sit up, trying to rationalize yourself, before falling back on your bed with a tumble. "You stupid idiot! Do you ever just stop embarrassing yourself?"

You toss on one side. "He probably thinks I'm some die hard fan now. A down bad creepy stalker who plans to make him feel indebted to do weird things to him-"

You screech, both a cry and and angered yell. A cry for help if you will. "No" you cry. "I'm not a weirdo-please trust me in this Jinwoo."

Burying your face against your pillow once more, you continue to lament for your dignity that crumbled like sandcastles thrown apart by strong winds.

"I'm not desperate either...."

You sniffle, already imagining your funeral-planning who would attend and who you'd blacklist.

After much regretting and sobbing and hoping Jinwoo isn't put off and wishing you died and stopping yourself from jumping off the rooftop, you finally dial for help.

Said help included your friend from work.

Calling her number, you wait for her to pick up with a kick of your feet. You haven't even changed yet-you're too busy going berserk to bother doing so.

She picks up after 5 rings(5 rings too long. What was she going to do if it was a life threatening situation?)

"Hello?"

You take a sharp inhale, and somberly croak out: "I'm going to die."

"Woah that turned up to 100 a real quick. What happened?"

You sigh like a victorian woman distressed. "I happened. Why was I even born? To be endless entertainment for the gods above?"

Your friend laughs, and you could practically hear her roll her eyes from the call. "Stop being dramatic, just tell me what happened drama queen."

You practically wail. You tell her your story-inputting your very important complaints about this version of you that just passed and continue to share it amidst random questions of what color your coffin should be.

By the time you finish, she's speechless.

"Woah." She gasps.

You sob harder into your pillow.

"Wait wait wait-" she exhales, a breathless chuckle echoing in your phone. "You asked someone out-"

"Yes."

"And not just anyone-but it's Sung Jinwoo. The Sung Jinwoo. The S-rank hunter Sung Jinwoo."

"Yes!" You weep, dramatically posing like a sick victorian child. Heavens bless you, you were most fitting to live in that time period considering how many poses you've striked in a similar manner as well.

She laughs. Laughs. This peasant dares laugh at your own misfortune-and not even the polite kind, she's full of breathless laughter. Loud laughter. Incorrigible laughter.

"Not just that you-" she takes a deep inhale, trying to hold back her cackle. "You asked-demanded he go on not one, not two-but five. Five dates with you with such calmness it unnerved him?"

She's howling with laughter at this point, clutching her stomach because laughing hurts a little too much now. Tears in her eyes from the sheer scandalous nature you possessed.

"Oh my gosh-"she giggles. "Okay okay-I was not familiar with your game. Didn't know you were smooth like that."

You groan, face hot enough to be in the running to be the next sun of the earth.

"Oh come on... I don't know what I was on when I said that."

"Girl that's what I'd like to know too-where'd you get the confidence?"

You huff, hand on your head as you contemplate your own worth. "I don't know I want to kill myself this is so embarrassing I can't face anyone like this anymore."

She cackles, entertained by your own suffering-how dare she?

"Now now, stop whining. You've already asked him-he agreed. Just view things positively."

"What's positive about this?! He probably thinks I'm a desperate fool-a despicable woman who forces things to go her way!"

"That's overexaggerating..." She retorts with ease, already familiar with your antics. "You managed to score five dates with the strongest man in Korea right now. That's not a fear anyone can achieve."

"I threatened him into it!"

"You asked him-he accepted."

"It was a bribe."

"He accepted your gratitude."

"Exactly! If that's not manipulative I don't know what is!"

"Oh stop drama queen-it's not like you expected him to suddenly get a massive glow up a few years later after you liked him and asked to return the favor."

"Still..."

"Stop whining, there's nothing you can do about it now." You sighed. Long, loud, full of shame.

"For now, let's just make the best of the five dates you have, okay?"

"Can't I just chat him and tell him I changed my mind? How about I tell him I want a cute coffin with cute designs and have him pay for it instead?"

"Don't do that you maniac. Just accept the fact that he accepted going on dates with you and use it as a chance."

"A chance?" You sniffle.

"That's right-a chance to make him fall in love with you!"

"Impossible." You huff, hugging a pillow. "He already told me he doesn't feel the same I just forced this on him because I was stubborn."

"He doesn't like you because he doesn't know you well yet. If we take these dates as a chance, who knows? You might be getting yourself a boyfriend right about a few months in the future."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Then you gasped, scandalized. "H-Hae-in! Aren't Jinwoo and Hae-in dating?!"

"Relax relax we don't have anything official...yet."

"Oh gosh-what if I-"

"Calm down! Jinwoo wouldn't agree to your terms and conditions if he was truly dating her. I think."

"But still! What if he felt obligated to?"

"Does he look like the kind of guy?"

"...maybe?"

"If we're not sure then don't jump to conclusions."

You let out a breath, thanking your friend mentally for grounding you whenever your thoughts wandered too much.

"Alright let's focus on the dates okay?"

"Okay... Help me plan the dates-I've no clue about love things." You plead, yawning.

"Eh? You know what? Fine." She shakes her head, half amused half exasperated. "Jeez, you're hopeless."

A moment, then she grins conspiratorially.

"Let's blow the socks off him."

The first date was at an aquarium. Easy, a safe choice for dates. The goal here wasn't to charm him -not yet. No, the goal was to get to know him, ease him into your presence before going with more dates. First impressions were important, and this would be the first time he'd know you outside work-you couldn't risk icking him out from the start.

You stand near the ticket booth, the perfect picture of calm. Cool. Chic. Your lips in a thin line, giving away none of your inner turmoil.

And oh you had a lot of inner turmoil to hide.

You're praying for a meteor to come and strike you, kill you so you don't have to be here and with Jinwoo on a date you forced him to attend. You have half the mind to run away and fake an incurable illness to get away from here as your organs all made some dissonant harmony from inside.

You check the time once every few minutes, movements smooth and easy. Definitely not the actions of someone losing their marbles every second that passed.

He's three minutes late. Only three minutes and yet you're already overthinking everything. Were you screwed? Definitely. What if he stood you up? What if he decides not to go and all your effort would be for nothing? What if-

"Sorry, did you wait long?" Your breath stills.

You turn your head, allowing your lips to curve into a small, measured smile. Not too formal but not too comfortable either.

"No, I just got here." You smoothly reply.

You sweep over his outfit. Nothing mind blowing, a simple outfit consisting of a black turtleneck and a coat, coupled with a dark grey trousers. It was simple-but when paired with his looks, it made him deadly. Made everyone else feel underdressed compared to him.

"You look nice." The words leave you before you even think, going on autopilot and refusing to let your worries make you too stiff.

Nice was an understatement. He looked good-too good you swear you could die. Oh good heavens I was not prepared for this level of attractiveness-is this really the timid boy I helped out before? Somebody catch me.

He sweeps his gaze over you. "Thanks, you too." He waits until you nod and offer him a smile before he starts again..

"You're early."

You hum, and chuckle softly. "Of course, you think I'd let someone I like wait for me?"

Jinwoo blinks in surprise, taken aback. He chuckles, small, quiet, but still there's a quirk up his lips. "Point taken."

Your grin stretches, but your hands betray your nerves as it trembles ever so slightly. Was that too forward?

"Let's get going. Do you have any vendettas against marine life?"

"None as far as I know." Jinwoo answers.

"Good. I was worried I'd have to throw myself to the shark tank to make things more interesting for you."

He pauses, stills for a moment and looks at you. He hesitates, half amused half concerned. "Is that a joke?"

You smile coyly. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

He flinches, thrown off right off the bat. "Please don't."

"Oh? Is that concern I hear?"

"No, I just don't want to jump in after you to get you out."

"Ah," you click your tongue. "Chivalry and shark wrestling? Charming. I fear you'll ruin other men for me."

You bite your tongue discreetly, attempting to shut your running mouth that's flirting too easily for your own sanity.

He smiles, amused, exasperated, annoyed-you don't know. But you do hope it's positive.

You walk around the aquarium, exploring different tanks with him and exchanging light conversations here and there.

"You're bold." He comments, expression calm if not lighthearted.

You keep your gaze fixated on the fishes in front of you. "Of course, I plan to make you fall inlove with me after all."

Jinwoo nearly chokes on his own spit, and you feel yourself shriveling to dusk as your mouth keeps saying the most diabolical things one after the other.

You stare at the aquarium wistfully, tempted to dive in there and drown and let the fishes eat your remains. That seems like a nice way to go.

"Like I said, bold."

You laugh-and cold sweat drips down your back as you try to feign nonchalance(you were succeeding, but you don't feel it)

"I apologize." You say in between laughter. "We only have five dates, I can't waste the first one hiding behind fishes. I have plans to woo after all."

He sighs through his nose, his lips quirking up in a smile. You've noticed it stayed there more often than it didn't, that had to mean something, right? This embarrassment you were feeling had to be worth something, right?

"Or" you turn to look at him rather than relying on the reflection of the glass. "Do you prefer modest girls more?"

He blinks, acting as if he never considered the thought. He thinks for a while, but ultimately shrugs. "Not necessarily, it's just that I never expected this from you."

"That so? Do you hate it, then?"

Another pause. His eyes narrow, and his mouth closes shut as he ponders over your words.

"I'm...not sure. I've never been confessed to before-not this boldly, at least."

"Ah," your eyes narrow as your grin stretches again into that mischievous smile. "Then you'd do well to prepare if you're weak of heart."

He doesn't say anything at first, only looks at you in sheer disbelief, eyes slightly wide but warm and soft. "What if you fail at achievingyour goal?" He asks, tone softer, unsure if it was inappropriate to ask.

"Then I'll admit defeat." You put your hands on your back, leaning closer to him. You get close to his face, only a few inches apart. You see his adam's apple bob and then flick up to meet his gaze. "But for now, I'm giving it all that I have."

You pull away shortly after that, already walking off to the next display while he's left in the last one. His gaze burns on your back, and his hands twitch ever so slightly as one of them reaches to where his heart rests.

There's a warmth left in your wake that leaves his heart pacing. He's unsure if it's apprehension or exhilaration.

You walk a few paces away, blocking his view of your flustered look with your back, refusing to let it show.

Urgh... What's gotten into me?

A sentiment echoed by two people only a few distances apart.

The second date was at an art museum.

Another safe choice. As your friend told you: set the first two dates to be calm-the third chaotic, the fourth fun, and the fifth unforgettable. Enough to leave him craving for more.

Frankly? You didn't believe a single word of her idea. You weren't sold on her five act get him to fall in love with you plan-but it was all you had so you just took it without complaints.

If it didn't work then that's sad, but if it did-on the off chance it did, you would end up with him. That was a possibility you couldn't pass up on as someone with an S-tier crush towards him.

The museum, tucked away in the heart of the city, was your next destination. You kept yourself presentable, elegant and sophisticated looking with the help of your friend who had to deal with your mini tantrums as you prepared for yet another meeting with the man of your dreams.

And gosh did he look handsome. So handsome he could be in a magazine. Too goodlooking you've no doubts he would be in the running for the most attractive man internationally and nationally.

The museum date itself wasn't anything interesting-just an exchange of opinion as you pretended to understand the complexities of the art placed here.

"This one here, is my favorite piece." You say as you present the painting to him with a small flare.

It was a messy splash of black lines and squiggles here and there strewn about on the canvas.

He arches a brow in mock interest. "Interesting. It looks like a migraine."

"Exactly. It embodies what I feel on a daily basis."

"Does that include today?"

Your gaze fixes on him, before turning to the painting once more. "No, you're a soothing balm. Being around you purifies my bad mood."

Jinwoo coughs, recovering from your sudden flirt. "Ah, there it is."

You huff, grinning at his reaction. "Let's move onto the next art piece-it should be the last one."

You twist on your heel, its sole clacking softly against the wooden floor of the museum. Unfortunately, your new heels—heels that you haven't broken in yet-failed you and did you a disservice by breaking on its first day at work.

A step, and a sound followed:

Snap

Following the snap was a sharp pain to your ankle as you lose balance. Your foot twisted, heel crumpling beneath you and suddenly you find yourself being a little too close to the floor.

Jinwoo catches you before you can fall rather disgracefully and cause a commotion.

His hand slithers around your waist, securing your halt—but also brought you unbelievably closer to him.

You think you died when you got closer than six inches to him. Six. That was enough to smell him, enough to count every lash on his eyes—enough to really break apart his eye color—enough to send you into cardiac arrest and die a happy woman.

"...hi?"

"Are you okay?"

His eyes fluttered down to meet your gaze, hand still wrapped around your waist and his face impossibly close.

In a fairytale world that was far from this one, you'd say yes—wrap your arms around him and say no. You were not okay and he'd carry you bridal carry to the nearest bench take care of you and you'd fall in love.

In reality however, you had an image to keep and you couldn't afford looking crazed for him. You had to keep things calm, cool, smooth, that's the way to go after all.

So you swallowed the pain and smiled. Pretended your heart wasn't this close to just ripping itself out on your ribcage and force Jinwoo to make room for it.

"I'm fine. My heel just snapped."

"I saw that."

"Of course you did."

A pause, and you remain in this slightly uncomfortable—very romantic position, keeping your gaze locked with his.

"Are—" you stuttered. Disgusting. "Are you going to let go now or are you planning to be a display too?"

His gaze flickered to your eyes, to that squirmy smile and then to the slight curve of your brows. And a smile of his own quirks up on his lips.

He pulls away, only barely. His arms detach from your waist, lingering instead around your shoulder.

"Can you stand?"

You felt a sharp pain spike through your right foot—specifically your ankle right then and there. You winced, but you only allow it a split second before you fall into your pre-established nonchalant appearance.

"Of course."

"You sure?"

"Definitely."

You take a step—and hiss at the pain. It takes everything you have to just not fall to the ground and, I don't know, cry maybe.

"That looks painful."

"That's normal when you're wearing heels. Beauty is pain—haven't you heard of that saying, Mr. Sung?"

Jinwoo deadpans. Looks at you taking small steps comparable to that of an ant and sighs.

He doesn't let you detach yourself from him, instead wrapping his arms around your waist and another tucked behind your knees.

"Excuse me," he mutters before lifting you off your feet and carrying you in his arms.

You gasp, scandalized. "What are you doing?"

"Carrying you to the nearest bench because clearly you're not fine."

Your hands clutch his shoulders—very tightly you might've thought he proposed marriage. He didn't—but this is closer than you expected to get to him since the first time you liked him.

"I can walk."

"You were limping."

"That's a new fashion trend." He gives you a look. One that practically said what words couldn't. He might be oblivious about a lot of things but even he's not foolish enough to believe that.

"I was adjusting. If you just gave me a few minutes I'd be able to walk normally again."

He hums, your words going in one ear and out on the other. "You're human—don't joke." He adjusts his grip on you, squeezing your waist and you feel your soul practically fly away as you held in the urge to ask for his hand in marriage and take responsibility for making your heart do flips.

You sputter for words, but nothing leaves your mouth despite desperate attempts to fill the silence with something. Your cheeks flushed with warmth, heat creeping into your skin—you worried he felt it, but he didn't say anything if he did.

You sigh with your whole chest, burying your face beneath your hands.

"This isn't how I planned today to go." You say, practically whimpering out of shame.

He pauses his steps, taking a moment to look at your hand covered face. This would be the first time he's seen you act out of your element. Far from the professionalism you showed when at work, far from the cool you that you showed during the first date, just flustered and more genuine this time. 

You don't even register it—you're just complaining, plans ruined and all because of this one mishap. And Jinwoo would be lying if he said he didn't find this even partly amusing.

"This is ridiculous." You huff, Jinwoo walks again with you still in his arms.

"What is?"

"This." Another sigh. Heavy. Full of weight and the hope you inhaled as you began this date exhaled in one single breath. "I had a fullproof plan. I was supposed to woo you. Act sophisticated, mysterious, charming, sly—"

"That's a lot of acting you're planning to do."

"Yes—and I had it all planned. I'd talk, you talk—I look at you lovingly and when you look at me you'll see it and I don't look away and maybe if I'm lucky we have a casual brush of hands I subtly seduce you and raise your affection for a considerable amount and—"

Jinwoo clears his throat, an awkward smile playing as the apple of his cheeks changes its tint just slightly. Very slightly. Mostly because he's really not used to bold proclamations of love.

"—Only for these stupid heels to butcher it up and ruin everything for me." You weep, lamenting your butchered plan.

"Subtly seduce?" He quirks a brow, half amused.

You pause, deciding how you should kill yourself for saying something like that—but forcefully bring yourself back to reality. You've already said a lot of things around Jinwoo, what was another going to do?

"Yes. Subtle. Smooth. You'd never see it coming but you're already lingering in the spaces I occupied. Slow burn and all that."

He chokes back a laugh, your lack of filter amusing him. It was a breath of fresh air from all the convoluted conversation exchanged between people of power. This was casual, normal, blunt. Like he was a normal guy.

"You have a curious mind." You bite your lip and bury your face deeper beneath your hands. He sees it, and his lips twitches.

"If it makes you feel any better, I prefer this version better."

He sets you down on a bench just outside the museum, placing you gently with care.

You set your arms aside, resting in either side of you as your eyes follow him. "I'm babbling and complaining like a spoiled brat."

He hums, kneeling down in front of you. You blink, baffled when he raises your leg and takes off your heels. He massages your feet deftly, carefully ensuring he didn't press too much to your sprained ankle.

"You're being honest and real."

"I'm always honest with you." You furrow your brows. "I've been flirting with you since the first date."

He closes his eyes, his hold trembling slightly at the mention. "Not that." He says with a small laugh.

"The you who gets flustered." He lifts your leg higher, you hesitate, but ultimately let him do his thing. "This whole time I've always had this certain pedestal put on you."

"You were always professional, mature, calm. I found it hard to picture you as anything but that." He presses against your ankle, you hiss in pain but don't pull away. "Even in the first date you were just like that. This version of you seems more fitting. Easier to talk with."

"You're being awfully soft with me right now." Your head tilts down to watch him ease the pain in your foot. "Even massaging me."

"I'd hate to assume, but are you perhaps falling to my charms?"

He goes rigid again, hands stopping its soothing motions. He peers up at you, you meet him with a small smile while dying inside.

"It's too early for that." He says, flicking your forehead lightly.

You stumble back with a wince, nose scrunched up. "Ow, that was uncalled for."

"I don't want to give you any false hopes." He says after a beat passes where your complaint remains unanswered.

"Don't worry. I doubt any hope you give me could do me any worse than the copium I'm currently running on."

He doesn't choke this time—only sigh in exasperation, as if slowly getting used to whatever leaves your mouth without thinking.

"Is that so?"

"It is so."

Later that night, you made plans to kill yourself.

"I'm so embarrassing." You groan, crying over the phone as your friend listens to your real time crash outs once more.

"It's fine it's fine—you're doing great!" She cheers with a loud laugh, as if jeering.

"Are you falling to my charms?" You scream, punching the poor pillow to let out your shame.

"It's fine—charming! You're cute!"

She cackles while you break down.

The third date—the alleged, supposed, chaotic one, was in an escape room. Not just any escape room—but a haunted escape room.

People often say that love and fear are interconnected. One can easily mistake fear to be love and vice versa—two sides of the same coin.

You were relying on this very popular theory to charm him into falling in love.

There's only one thing you and your friend failed to account for: the man you were trying to woo was Sung Jinwoo. An E-rank hunter who definitely saw scarier things than just humans wearing cosmetics to look even remotely as scary as the monsters in the dungeons.

He was not affected by the jumpscares at all.

Meanwhile, you were clutching your chest and stopping yourself from bawling your eyes like a baby because you can't get out of the room when all you wanted to do was bolt out and run away and pretend none of this ever happened.

You were stupid. Why did you let your friend convince you into going to an escape room with him? Now both your and his safety is compromised because of the fear levels you feel spiking up in you making you act even more unhinged.

You took a step forward, the wall beside you split open and revealed a haunted figure. You screeched—then quickly cut yourself off and clung to yourself.

Ha. Easy peasy.

You were crazy scared. You could feel your soul jumping out of your body every three seconds or so—especially because of that wretched humming played by a hidden speaker.

The heebie-jeebies was at its worst.

You shrieked when something fell—it was a book. Just a book. But it shook your soul to the core nevertheless. Your eyes widened comically, and you

You were terrified to your core. Like seriously? Actual, stomach-turning, nerve-fraying, skin-prickling kind of scared. The kind of fear that made your brain scream, "Cling to him! Cling to Jinwoo! Grab his arm and never let go!"

But you didn't.

Because you had class. You were a woman of principle. And also crippling overthinking—but we don't talk about that. You don't dare grab ahold of his arm and latch yourself at him like a leech mid exorcism—because you were respectful.

What if he didn’t like being touched? What if he thought you were using the escape room as an excuse to be handsy? What if he thought you were weak? You couldn't risk losing what little affection you had garnered for yourself because of thoughtless actions.

No. Instead, you ought to be brave and face your fears and act the same. Cool, casual, smooth—not sobbing, crying, scared to the point of peeing yourself.

But dang was it hard. Every step you took you could feel yourself wither away and become one of the props in the escape room. A ghost. You were so close to being one you could feel it.

You hugged yourself through your fears, arms wrapped tightly around your torso as if you're your own boyfriend and squishy toy. Your shoulders were hunched, wary of everything inside the room as your lips turned into that twisted smile. I'm fine. I'm fine—peachy—totally safe.

A disembodied voice echoed as a speaker from who knows where suddenly played the audio, mumbling some riddle to solve and hints to make sure the players don't get stuck in the room with that breathy, demonic sounding voice. You gasped and flinched so hard you nearly fell on your butt and crashed onto the skeleton prop just behind you.

Jinwoo glances over your pathetic form—barely holding yourself together. "You okay?"

You nod—perhaps a bit too quickly. "Mhm. Fine. Cool—so cool." The way your voice goes a pitch too high  to be your normal one betrays you. "I'm bored actually. So bored I could fall asleep standing."

"You're trembling."

"That's from excitement. Know the difference."

Jinwoo gave you a look. One, very obviously disbelieving look, and waited for you to retract your statement.

You didn't.

So he pushed and prodded. "Is that so?"

"Yes. I'm fearless. Very fearless. I could even do this with my eyes closed."

"And those eyes aren't closed because you're scared?"

You gasp, offended and take a step forward—only to step on some mechanism and cause a hand to suddenly spring up from the floor.

You scream, barely muffled and kept audible by your own pride.

He gives you an unimpressed look. You wither on the inside but puff up your chest in mock confidence.

"I was acting. I have a hidden talent in acting—I just wanted to show it to you. To make you fall in love more."

Somehow he doubts that.

"Alright, you go first then. You invited me—I want to see more of your 'fearless' side."

You freeze at his request, and stiffly look at him as if he's just betrayed you and did the worst crime to ever be done. His eyes narrow in amusement, but he doesn't outwardly laugh.

"I—"

"Go on."

You stare at him, mouth agape, planning to say something before shutting up. "I—fine!"

You huff, taking a step forward. The wooden floor creaks beneath your feet with everystep you take. You brace yourself for something, and when a whisper slithers through the air and to your skin, you scream out of pure terror.

Your hands clutch each other tightly as you flinch backwards. Your frantic steps back is blocked by a sturdy build. You freeze, dread for your life, and turn your head despite the fear ground you.

Much to your relief, it's only Jinwoo. You exhale a sigh—but freeze all again when he puts both hands on your shoulders and whispers—his face criminally close to your ear.

"I like strong women." Your breath hitched. His voice is low, steady, and sincere.

"But I like women who can admit to their faults too." He pauses, giving you a second to digest it before continuing with a more teasing tone. "Like being scared of anything haunted."

Your eyes widened, shivers running down your spine—and it's not because of the haunted room. You feel your face burn even as he pulls away and fixes himself to stand beside you.

"I'll go take the front. Stay close behind me."

You hum, though your sanity is barely there. Being flirted on while you were at a constant state of fight or flight wasn't doing good for your own health. You nod, breath shaky as you take deep inhales of air.

He doesn't pay any mind to your pathetic act at staying strong, working on solving puzzles instead while you linger behind him, fingers trembling and begging to cling to him.

"I-I'm scared." You finally mutter, eyes narrowed as you glare at the book that fell down the bookshelf earlier.

He hums, you take it as a sign to continue. "Really scared. I thought watching 10 horror movies in one day would help me prepare for this moment—but now I see it was stupid."

Jinwoo blinks, surprised by the sudden confession. Well, he didn't expect that. He coughs, but smiles as his hands fiddled with the lock at the door.

"That so?"

"Mhm. It only made me more paranoid. That was stupid."

He hums again, gaze flickering with satisfaction when the door opens. As you move onto another room, you follow closely behind him, counting every second you were stuck in this room with him.

You breathed out a shaky exhale, eyes darting around while Jinwoo solved a riddle involving books and other mumbo jumbos when suddenly—

"I'm watching you....."

You shriek, feet leaving the ground in a fearful jump as something breathed down your back. Your hands clench one another before finally latching onto Jinwoo with a cry.

Jinwoo flinches—only mildly. You don't register it, too wrapped up in your own terror to notice it.

Jinwoo blinks, looks down at you—crouched and five seconds away from crying, clinging to his arm with a death grip. His hand twitches, and he adjusts himself to allow you more grip to him.

"You alright?"

"S-someone was here—they breathed down my neck! Their voice was gargled!" You ramble, lips quivering as your eyes water.

He bites his lips to cover his laughter. It wasn't loud, but he assumes you wouldn't appreciate laughter so he keeps it restrained.

"Is that so?" You nod eagerly, he smiles—part amused part exasperated. "Then stay close, something might creep up again if you stay away."

"Are you inviting me to cling to you?" You sniffle. "Careful, I might enjoy that privilege a bit too much."

Jinwoo stiffens, looks at you like you're odd—and you are. You're scared witless and yet you still have the strength to flirt?

Your priorities sure haven't strayed despite everything. Atleast he knows you're loyal. He coughs to cover a laugh.

"I'm not sure what you mean but sure. If it helps you get through this without going into cardiac arrest."

You sigh, wrapping your arms around Jinwoo's arm, preparing for another batch of jumpscares.

"Then please don't mind if I accidentally rip apart your limb from pulling too hard."

"Eh?"

The fourth date—as your friend said—the fourth should be fun. Charming—a chance to let out your inhibitions.

Fun. Light hearted. Sweet—preferably all while you look cute and swoonable. And what better place would suit the description other than an amusement park?

Bright lights, loud music, the smell of fried sugar and delirium, highschool teens doing pda left and right and rides that goes against safety regulations—there was no other place to go than an amusement park.

You made sure to look presentable and ready to dazzle. Cute, comfortable, and easy to move in clothes while still looking decent.

But something changed this time. And you weren't just imagining it—you know that.

Jinwoo had arrived first this time, dressed in casual clothes that made him look boyfriend material. Gosh you want to wife him up one day.

"You're early this time."

He nods, tilting his head just slightly—making you absolutely lose your mind.

"I didn't want to keep you waiting."

You squeeze your eyes shut, count to five, and try to stop the urge to tell him I like you even if he already knew that.

"Is that so?" You position yourself to stand beside him, a bright grin on your lips. "Shall we get going then? We have a lot of attractions to go through today."

Another bob of his head, followed by a "sure" cams from him.

And thus the fifth date began.

Your gaze sweeps across the amusement park, and then lands on a small shop selling headpieces and accessories.

"Let's go there first." You point to the store, a relaxed smile—contrary to the one you forced during the escape room experience. "We ought to gear ourself up before we embark on a grand adventure."

You tug his sleeve—careful to only tug the sleeve of his hoodie and nothing more and drag him towards the desired destination with it.

Jinwoo paused, but allowed you to drag him without complaints.

His eyes land on where you held him. On the sleeve—tugging on it like wrapping your arms around his wrist would burn you.

There's a small tug at his heart at the sight. And then, snoothly—almost naturally, he detaches your hand from his sleeve and wraps it around his hand instead.

He does this in one quick motion you don't even register until you feel his warmth around the pads of your hand.

Your steps stall to a halt, shoulders turning stiff when you feel it.

"Why did you stop?"

You look at your now linked hands, then back at him and asked—almost shyly. "Are you, uhm, are you alright with this?"

"With what?"

"With—" you gesture to your linked hands. "With this. Holding hands."

His mouth makes an o shape as he processes your question.

"Do you hate it?"

You stiffen, and then shake your head—quite vehemently too.

"I didn't say that—" you squeeze his hand, then flinch and loosen it quickly, afraid of pushing boundaries. "I'm saying I like it too much I don't want to creep you out."

"You clung to me like you were trying to become one with me just one date ago. You're now bashful about hand holding?"

Your face burned at the mention. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was perfectly calm. The picture perfect epitome of calm."

"Is that so?"

"It is so."

He stares, you don't. You keep your gaze fixated on the shop while he keeps looking unimpressed. Five heartbeats later, he sighs(something he's been doing quite often around you) and relents.

"Let's go, we don't have all day."

And so you walked with his hand in yours, heart matching the pace of the upbeat music playing in the background.

You found your eyes fixated on one thing and one thing only. A bunny ear headband with the fuzzy fur and cute white and pink color scheme.

It would look so good on Jinwoo.

You feel it from the very depths of your core—Sung Jinwoo would look fantastic in a rabbit ears headband.

But the real question was—you bit your lip. Would he entertain your whims and wear it?

You look over to him, he's leaned over at a keychain stand, hand on chin as he ponders over something—expression unreadable.

He tilts his head up when he feels your gaze on him—almost as if he has a third sense. You flinch, eyes wide when he meets your gaze with his own unreadable one.

Nothing shows—but then his eyes shimmer with just a hint of something that makes your heart skip a beat. It crinkles at the edges as his head tilts slightly, expression morphing into a softer—that's criminal—a smile gracing his otherwise bland expression.

"What is it?"

You blank out for a moment, wondering if that softness really was for you or just your delusion making things romantic.

"Ah I—"

"I was wondering if you would—hypothetically speaking" you look at the headband section, fingers fiddling with each other. "Wear one of them if I asked."

Jinwoo follows your gaze to the row of fuzzy animal headbands. His eyes trail up from the baby-pink bunny ears, to the comically large cat ears, to the sparkly devil horns, then, back to you.

"Which one?" he asks, straight-faced.

You falter for half a second, then reach out—hand trembling just slightly like you're about to commit a crime against fashion and masculinity—and point to the softest, floppiest bunny ears on the shelf. "This one."

Jinwoo stares at it for a long moment. Long enough for you to reconsider your entire life.

Then, without a word, he takes the headband and slides it on.

Just like that.

You freeze. He meets your gaze. Your eyes are wide—both in disbelief and cuteness aggression.

"Oh my gosh."

He doesn't even blink, wears it on as if it was just a normal headband. His pride doesn't even seem wounded, he doesn't show a sign of embarrassment either—just compliance.

"Is something the matter?"

"Yes." You take a deep breath. "You're adorable."

"Adorable?" You nod. Clutching your chest, you grit your teeth as you restrain the urge to squeeze his cheeks and call him cute.

You force your attention on the headbands once more. Slightly trembling hands(trembling because you're holding back a big urge to baby talk to a grown man just because he's wearing bunny ears.)

Grabbing another headband—this time, a wolf eared headband with slick grey fur and perked up pointy ears and tugged it on.

"It's settled then." Your eyes darts towards the mirror in front of you—showcasing both you and Jinwoo. One rabbit and one wolf. "You're the prey—I'm the predator."

He quirks a brow and looks at you through the mirror. "My defenseless little prey—"

You shrivel and eat up your words when you see his amusement hidden very badly on his face. Brows arched, lips parted slightly and head cocked. He looks amused in the way one would look at someone who just dug themselves their own hole—and that might not be far off from the truth.

"I'm sorry that was horrible please don't sue me for sexual harassment"

Silence.

Not even a pin drop.

And then he laughs. Not a full blown laugh—but kept constrained to not lose his aura kind of laugh.

"You're...peculiar."

Your cheeks flushed as blood rushed to paint it with its color.

"Just say I'm weird, I can take it."

He hums, amused, shoulders shaking just enough to show he's still laughing at you.

"Did that failed flirt dock points off my tally?"

He tilts his head, the floppy pink bunny ears shifting ever so slightly. "I'll allow it. Just this once."

You dramatically exhale in relief. "Thank goodness. I don't want to end up in jail with wolf ears on."

He chuckles again, and then—almost casually—reaches out to adjust your headband, his fingers brushing your hair just briefly. "They suit you."

You blink, heart skipping a beat. Was he flirting? This is considered flirting, right? Ah, you might be dying—oh you might be dying. You might really be dying.

"Come on, predator." He turns around, already paying for the headbands without letting you have a say in it. "Let's see what other sorts of trouble you can get yourself into."

Then he smirks—oh my gosh he smirked. You had to physically take a step back to recover because that one sided grin could end nations if he wielded it right.

You walk around the amusement park with him, hand laced with his for security purposes. You might get separated after all(you have to physically bite your tongue to keep you grounded to reality.)

You land in a shooting stall—and you quickly take the chance to impress him with your skills.

The plushies hang in the back like grand prizes(they are)—small ones, big ones, and a stupid looking duck about the size of a human torso standing proud in the middle of the prize display.

You take out your wallet and slam it down on the table.

"Watch and learn, bunny boy." You huff, chest puffing out and smug as you take the gun handed over to you by the staff working on the stall.

"Oh?" Jinwoo gives nothing more but an amused raise of brow, watching as you position yourself.

You adjust your headband and crack your knuckles, bending over slightly as you focus on shooting the target. Your eyes are narrowed, dedicated to the game as your fingers circle the handle and the trigger.

He balanced his weight on one of his legs and crossed his arms, watching you expectantly.

You pull the trigger—hitting the ducks square in the head with quick motions. The way you murmur your own sound effects as you shoot down the duck targets one after the other isn't lost on him, and his hold on himself tightens for a few seconds and as he watches you shoot everything down—not a single shot wasted.

"Five shots," you say, almost too smugly. "All fired—none missed."

You turn to him expectantly, like a dog awaiting praise.

He claps. Not loud, but enough for you to hear. "That's impressive."

You fail to notice the mild sarcasm laced in his tone. "I'm aware."

The giant duck—the biggest prize the stall had to offer now laid in your arms. You paraded it around, walking to him in slow paces to further enhance the mood.

"For you."

Jinwoo's eyes flick down to the oversized duck cradled in your arms. Then back to your triumphant grin. Without missing a beat, he reaches out and takes the plush from you—his fingers brushing yours briefly, sending a tiny spark that you definitely notice.

"You really went all out."

"Of course, only the best for the guy I like."

His smile no longer wavers when you tell him you like him, as if adjusting to your blunt nature. You don't know if that's a good sign or a bad sign, but he hasn't pushed you away yet—so you hope it's good.

Without skipping a beat, Jinwoo slides the plush into his inventory. Like a magic trick done right, the very plush you had won him suddenly disappeared from his hands.

You gasp in sheer horror. "What did you do to Agent quackston?!"

"You named it?"

"But of course!" You clutch your chest as if you've been stabbed. "That was my mascot! The proof of my love! And—and you just murdered him!"

He flicks your forehead before you can go too far with your theatrics. You yelp, both hands covering the place his fingers just hit as you scrunched up your nose in disapproval.

"He's in my inventory." He pulls his hands away, face ever soft despite its sharp features. "We can't exactly go on while carrying a huge plush all the time, can we?"

"Oh."

That shut you up real quick. Your face flattens out, a cool look quickly molding over your initial horror once Jinwoo knocks some sense into you.

"That makes sense." You groan. "Overpowered menace."

His head tilts, looking from side to side before landing on a destination.

"Come, follow me." Once more, he laces his fingers through yours—too smoothly for your safety actually.

"Wh—" you're dragged away from where your feet were planted with ease as he exerts the smallest of force to get you moving. "Where are we going?"

The only response you get is a quick look and a small smirk.

You ascended to heaven.

You proceed to find yourself swallowed by a whole mountain of plushies 30 minutes later.

"Y-you're awfully good at this."

Your arms struggle to carry all the plushie he just won you at the claw machine, a strawberry shaped one blocking your vision with it's large body.

"You think so?"

A deadpan. "Not I think—but you are."

"I have talent, it seems," he says, voice light, almost teasing.

The strawberry plush is enormous, obnoxiously soft, and it’s wedged so firmly between your arms you can barely see past it. You shuffle awkwardly, trying to adjust your grip, but your vision is still completely overtaken by red fuzz and a pair of stitched cartoon eyes.

"Jinwoo," you groan. "I can't see. I'm going to die holding this fruit."

There's a brief pause coming from him—and then you feel the pressure ease. The strawberry is lifted from your arms gently, like a gift being unwrapped. And just like that, your vision returns.

You blink up at him, mouth half open in protest, but the words die on your tongue the moment you see his face.

He's holding the strawberry plush with both hands, cradling it against his chest like it’s something delicate. To make matters even worse—his expression is fond.

Not smug. Not playful.

Fond.

Eyes soft, mouth curved in the smallest, most dangerous smile you’ve ever seen on him.

"This one repays the duck," your knees buckle. "Now we're even."

You stare.

He offers it to you like a peace offering. Like a confession. Like it means something more. Did it mean something more? You hope it did.

You need something to keep your heart from breaking out of your ribs. You want to say something witty. Something charming. Something that won't give away how your brain is fully short-circuited.

But all you manage is: "Agent Quackston will be pleased."

Jinwoo chuckles, the sound sending goosebumps down your spine. "Good. I don't want to get on his bad side."

You clear your throat, clutching the strawberry tighter. "He's very territorial."

"I'll keep that in mind."

His eyes persist and remain locked on yours, refusing to waver. You try to meet it, refusing to back down. A poker face—a picture perfect poker face you honed after years of work crumbles beneath his gaze that dared to make you hope for something more.

"Give those to me—I'll keep them in my inventory for the time being."

You barely register his words beyond the rampant beating of your heart.

Unbeknownst to you, the very reason he could capture so many stuffed plushes was because he was using his ruler's authority without you noticing.

The rest of the day passes by in a flash. Failed flirts, playful banters, unraveling of character—you've tried both the rides and the overpriced foods here, a smile never quite leaving you all throughout. You found a haunted house amidst your search for exciting rides—you didn't dare try it out.

You learned your lesson from the last date. You avoided it like the plague, Jinwoo looked amused. And then the climax happened.

You sat in front of him at the ferris wheel, overlooking the entire city as you reached the highest peak of the circle shaped structure. The ferris wheel would always signify the end of the date. A quiet place where meaningful conversations could be exchanged.

"Why five dates specifically?" Jinwoo finally asks, breaking the bubble of silence that blanketed the space.

You look off into the distance, admiring the view you could only see from high up above.

"It's simple, really."

Though his eyes never leave your figure, your eyes never meet his.

"One's too fast, two's too fleeting, three's too abrupt, four might allow a spark, and five means we might be allowed a chance to go somewhere." Your hand touches the window, tone no longer as detached nor too emotional. "Six and more is too long. Even I know my limits."

Jinwoo leans back, arms crossed as the city lights flicker beneath his icy grey hues. He doesn't say anything, only linger in the answer you gave—look at you like you're a puzzle he wishes to solve.

"We're already at the fourth." Your hand twitches just slightly. "Nearing the end—time flies by so fast, doesn't it?"

He follows where your eyes lock on, watching the cityscape through the small window. "It does." He adds when the silence becomes too much.

"Only one more and you'll be free from my whims—" you take a sharp breath. "That must be a relief for you."

Jinwoo turns his gaze back to you slowly, his expression unreadable for a second too long.

Then—quiet, but firm—he says, "Leave the fifth to me."

Your body goes rigid, and then, with a speed Jinwoo worried would cause you a whiplash—turned your head to face him. Breathless.

"What?"

"The fifth date. Leave it to me."

"I—huh?" You blink, once, twice, thrice, four, five—not enough. "Why?"

"I want to make sure of something."

Butterflies flutter about inside your stomach as hope dares to make itself known to your chest.

"Make sure to dress nicely."

The fifth date, as Jinwoo insisted, was planned solely by him.

All you did was dress pretty. Cordial and decent enough to dine at fine dining restaurants—enough to pass as the daughter of a rich man.

"Isn't this too much?" You question as your trusty friend swipes lipstick across your lips like a professional. "I don't want to appear like I'm trying hard around him."

"My girl," she deadpans. "You've asked him out on five dates the first time you talked outside of work—confessed your intentions at date one, asked if he was falling inlove at date two, clung to him on date three, and called him bunnyboy at date four. You're desperate enough to do this much when he asks to let you leave the fifth date to him."

You pout at her words, she doesn't care—doesn't even bother to pretend to care.

"Listen here—make sure to remain calm okay?" She holds you by the shoulders, squeezing it gently. "This is your chance—don't you dare mess this up."

"I am calm."

You say that, but you carry yourself with the stiffness of a man going into a lion's den with steak on their hands.

"You're vibrating, stop that—I can't finish the look if you're trembling."

"Can you blame me? I'm emotionally compromised and in risk of cardiac arrest."

She doesn't answer—but she does do a deadpan. That alone told you everything about her exasperation.

After giving you one final once-over, she beams and puffs her chest smugly—proud of her work. Then came the doorbell ringing loudly for both of you to hear.

She lets you go with the face of someone sending their dearest soldier to war. You step out with the same vibes of someone going to war for the first time. Your nerves fray—nearing combustion as your palms clamp up with sweat.

As the door creaks open, allowing you exit—you're immediately met with Jinwoo standing just outside, waiting for you—all dressed to the nines with a dark suit and a bouquet.

He's unfairly handsome.

The 'polite boy with a mysterious about him that keeps you on your toes. Magazine looks and a k-drama star of a 100% rotten tomatoes rating series.' Meanwhile you looked like an overdressed fool preparing for an interview to become a court jester. The difference was astounding—you wonder why you haven't yet melted into a puddle on the floor and become fertilizer for a fresh set of life.

"You brought a bouquet?" Dumb question—clearly he did, in fact, bring one.

He wordlessly offers it to you, gaze dragging down to your form as he takes in your fit. From your coloured lips to your wide eyes full of static. You hold back the urge to shrink, gingerly accepting the small gift with clammy hands.

"This is for me?"

"No, it's for your neighbor." He retorts with a face you could only describe as serious. "Of course it's for you."

"...oh."

You clutch the bouquet like it might stabilize your heart, eyes darting to the floor in a valiant attempt to find an escape tunnel. Unfortunately for you, you find that there's none—only the sound of your pulse in your ears and the sharp, clean scent of the flowers pressed against your face.

"Right," you mumble. "Thanks. They're...nice. Really nice."

He raises an eyebrow. "You sound surprised."

"Who wouldn't be surprised? The guy I like comes and gives me a pretty bouquet—I need time to recover emotionally."

"Because of flowers?"

"Because of you bringing flowers while looking like a man who walked out of a commercial for heartbreak."

That gets him. His lips twitch, the faintest ghost of a laugh huffing through his nose.

"I'll try not to be less offensive next time," he says. "Come on."

He offers his arm, you stare at it stupidly as if it was an alien concept to wrap your own around it.

"Your hand." He gives you a deadpan. "Hold onto me."

You blink, look up, tilt your head, process his words, and then nearly shut down. "Wh—"

Jinwoo's expectant stare makes you comply without allowing yourself to mutter anything else. Latching onto him before your body starts protesting.

He leads you outside of your apartment complex, taking you to an open field.

"Where are we going?"

"Nature."

"Pardon?"

Jinwoo turns his head left and right, makes sure there's no obstructions, and calls upon Kaisel with a low mumble.

A large wyvern materializes out of his shadows, glinting blue against the moonlit night. Towering over both of you by several feet.

"Holy—"

It roars as it emerges from its sanctuary, flapping its wings as it adjusts to the chilling air of Seoul. It blinks once, glowing softly as the night highlights its phantom like structure. You're not sure what breaks your head more—was it the fact that he said nature and seemed to mean it? Or the fact that a wyvern just popped out of his shadow and ease into the ground in front of you.

"Is that a dragon?" You clutch the bouquet like it's a lifeline, shivers running down your spine as it flaps its wings once more—the pressure allowing for a gust of wind to breeze through you.

"A wyvern," he corrects, tone patient. "They're Kaisel—don't worry, they're friendly."

You swallow thickly. "Right. Sorry for the misidentification—but that doesn't make this any better, Jinwoo. That's still a mythical being we're talking about—and you birthed it from your shadow, Jinwoo."

Jinwoo doesn't respond, but his lips twitch again—twice in one evening. You're practically a miracle worker for making him show so much emotion with just a few well placed words here and there.

"Not birth—summon is a better word." Another correction, you click your tongue in response.

Kaisel lowers their head, wings folding neatly by their sides as if to say, yes, hello, I am your Uber for tonight. You blink up at Jinwoo, who's already turned toward you, holding out a gloved hand this time. "Have you ever flown before?"

"Not on a real life wyvern, no." You hiss.

He chuckles softly, his smooth baritone sending shivers that didn't have anything to do with the chilly wind down your spine. "Then today will change that, it appears."

With measured steps does he stand over Kaisel's back, gaze flicking back to you with an expectant look. "You trust me, don't you?"

The question is simple. Too simple. But it leaves you winded nonetheless.

Your eyes search his—calm, steady, waiting. And for all your drama, for all your plans and fears, your answer comes shamefully easily. "Yes, I do."

He smiles. Smiles. A full one this time. "Good. Then let's fly."

And before you can even take back your words and stay grounded on the very real, very nice pavement, he's already helping you up, lifting you as if you weighed next to nothing. Next thing you know, he has his arm wrapped around your waist as you stand by Kaisel's backbone.

"This is safe, right?"

"What happened to the trust you said you had in me?"

"Will be gone if you don't answer my question."

"Don't worry," he laughs, hand squeezing your waist almost subconsciously. "I won't let you fall."

You nearly faint right then and there. Badump, badump—you can practically smell his cologne from how close you were. He smells nice, like freshpine and something mysterious—ah you might be a bit too in danger if you keep sticking to him like this.

"Are you all settled now?" You clutch the bouquet in one hand, and his coat with the other as you nod. Slowly—very slowly—almost robotically.

Too late to back out now. With a powerful flap of their wings, Kaisel launches into the sky—and you scream. But it's short-lived, caught somewhere between terror and sheer awe as the world drops away beneath you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the air muss up your dignity Jinwoo takes you to the sky. You feel your balance shifting ever so slightly, and you quickly try to fix it by holding onto Jinwoo tighter.

"If I fall and die I'll haunt you—doesn't matter if I liked you when I was living." You threaten, voice whispery as your legs wobble, feeling the graze your skin.

He laughs, though it's covered by the loud gust of wind whispering in your ears as you soar through the skies with Jinwoo. "Open your eyes, it would be a shame to miss this."

"I might vomit!"

"You won't."

"But I might!" You huff

Jinwoo shifts behind you, his grip around your waist tightening ever so slightly—firm, secure, maddeningly calm.

"You won't," he repeats, like it's fact, a given and not a gamble. "You're too stubborn to let gravity win."

"Now I'm no scientist but I'm quite sure that's not how biology or gravity works!"

"Trust me," he murmurs, and somehow, the sound of it cuts through the wind like silk through chaos. "You're safe."

You squeeze his coat until your knuckles turn white. Risk one eye open, it swiftly forces the other to blink open as well and widen as you take in the sight beneath you.

The city is a kaleidoscope of colors all around, lights flickering as the buzz dies out into nothing but flickering murmurs until it becomes nothing at all. The cityscape glows in colors of gold, white, red, and more—fading into the distance the further the wyvern flies.

"Oh." Your breath hitches.

"See?"

You glance back at him. He's not just smiling—he's soft. The kind of softness that makes your lungs ache, like you've gone too high and forgotten to breathe. The wind wraps around you both in a cold embrace, the moonlight reflecting off your eyes as you peer up at the sky, lips parted into a frozen gasp. Kaisel glides above the clouds with ease, careful to not swivel too much for the passengers behind their back.

"This is..." You clutch the bouquet. "This is beautiful..."

He hums, eyes flicking over your admiring visage, silence encompassing you both before he eventually nods. "...It is."

Kaisel lands you somewhere in the middle of the forest with a wide clearing. As the flapping of their wings slows to a halt, their feet land back at the ground with a small thump.

Dust kicks off from the ground, and Kaisel stops moving.

Jinwoo's the first to jump back down the ground, unbothered by motion sickness as he offers a hand for you to take.

You accept it, no longer as reluctant as before. If he offered it, why refuse? There's no reason to. Absolutely none.

He helps you down the dragon, ever so careful, the very description of a gentleman. You look around, finding nothing but trees and twigs as far as the eyes could see.

Another bout of silence—nothing but Kaisel's purr as they relax and lay on the ground to interrupt it, a flame flickers from nowhere and comes to life. Not wild, not big—just a small ball of fire as it lights up a path. The balls of fire flickers one after the other, forming a passage for you to follow.

You flinch, expecting hostile creatures only for Jinwoo to take your hand through his own gloved ones and take you to follow it through.

"Where are we going?"

Jinwoo replies, "Somewhere nice."

The firelit path weaves through tall trees and crisp air, and every few steps the scent of pine, earth, and smoke sweetens—until you break past the last wall of foliage and enter a clearing.

Your jaw drops. In the center of it all—under a full moon and starlit sky—stands a table for two. A white cloth billows gently under the breeze, weighed down by elegant plates, polished silverware, and a single vase of fresh flowers in the middle. A pair of candles flicker beside it, impossibly tall and stubborn against the night wind.

"My liege—and his dearest lady." A shadow emerges from the depths of the trees. "We've been expecting you."

You flinch at the sudden voice, gasping as you take an instinctive step back.

An ant-like shadow stands before you, head lowered into a bow as its wings flick in small excited beats. "I am honored to be graced with your presence at long last." He begins, and Jinwoo already feels a headache forming. "Our king has told much of your grace, wit, and awe-inspiring intentions—it is with the greatest delight that I finally stand before you I am—"

"Beru." Jinwoo cuts off, brows furrowed, as he glowers at the pesky ant. "Stop talking."

The ant whimpers—it whimpered as Jinwoo issued the command like a kicked puppy. Its wings droop, and their eyes grow droopy at his liege's annoyance.

"I-I—of course! I apologize, I did not mean to intrude upon such a sacred moment—" he bows down, deeper and closer to the ground this time. "Please proceed to the table."

Jinwoo sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as the ant skitters off somewhere.

"That was mean." You comment, allowing Jinwoo to walk you to the table. "I felt bad."

"You have to be mean to these kinds of shadows."

"Really?"

"Really." You raise a brow as he pulls your chair out, gesturing for you to sit. "Even the overly dramatic bug butler who just called our dinner a 'sacred moment'?"

Jinwoo exhales sharply through his nose, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. "Especially him. If I don't rein him in, he'll start composing sonnets about your eyelashes."

"...Has he done that before?" He doesn't answer right away.

"He has, hasn't he?"

"He's very devoted."

You laugh at that, taking a seat where he offered one graciously. He sits across the table, taking the bouquet and resting it on the table for you.

A tall knight comes your way, covered from head to toe with armor. They lean over, their armor clanking softly as they hand out what seems to be a menu to skim through. You quirk a brow, hesitantly taking the offered folder containing the list of provided services. They walk off with a small nod, you return it, bewildered by the random sight.

"Uhm..." A clap—one, two, and then shadows morph into figures—orcs, knights, each holding an instrument of their own. In the middle stands a particularly burly knight—skin glowing as the armor shuts down the light they emit.

Another orc—this one larger than the rest stands several paces back, an orb in hand. It murmurs something under its breath, and then the sphere glows softly—a stream of petals fluttering about out of nowhere.

You stare. The music begins.

Soft strings swell into the air, underscored by the low hum of a cello being plucked with surprising precision by a shadowy knight. A flute joins in—sharp and clear—held by what looks like a an orc in a tuxedo. The tune is gentle, romantic, almost hauntingly beautiful.

The burly knight in the middle opens their mouth and sings. They hum loudly, a mix of sounds that fit just right with the atmosphere currently set—their deep baritone suiting the mood just right.

Then the petals hit. First a few. Then dozens. Then hundreds.

They swirl down like rain, catching on your shoulders, your hair, your menu, Jinwoo's sleeve, and even, somehow, his very soul if the look on his face is anything to go by.

Jinwoo's eyes twitches.

You brush off a petal that got on your head, mirth shimmering within the shine of your eyes.

"They overdid it." He murmurs, a hand carding through his hair as he leans against the table. You laugh, finding entertainment where Jinwoo finds embarrassment.

"This feels cursed." You comment, watching them as they played the instruments with surprising skill. "Like a date with death itself or something. Low lighting, shadows as staff, eating dinner at a cliffside as the moon bears witness to this event—yep, cursed."

"But also," your eyes narrow as you stare at the hard working shadows. If you squint your eyes, you could see the ant—Beru scolding the big orc for overdoing the petal shower, if going by the way the orc frowned in what seemed like shame. "This is cute—though not conventional cute."

He nods, a sigh finding its way out of his lungs.

"I didn't know they were capable of doing cute things like this."

"What's cute about this?" He grumbles, and you only giggle.

"The view here is nice." You begin, "below you can see the forest from above. If you look up you have a great view of the full moon from here." Your gaze flickers to the shadows playing music, soft, slow, romantic. "And then we have good music to bask in to really get in the mood."

You open the book with unhurried motions, lashes fluttering as you scanned through the menu. "Though I didn't know what you had in mind when you told me to leave this last date to you, I certainly have no regrets."

You hum, fingers skimming through the names listed below. "This feels fitting for our final meeting. Thank you for putting so much effort into this, Jinwoo. Even if I had only dragged you along to satiate my selfish whims."

Jinwoo stiffens.

Somehow, someway, your words hit him hard. "You seem sure of it," he comments, taking a sip of the service water offered.

"About what?"

"About this being our final meeting."

"Ah." You follow him, taking a sip as well before laughing softly—a bit deprecating. "Am I wrong?"

He opens his mouth to say something in turn—something to disprove your words, but nothing leaves him and you're already calling the waiter, gesturing for someone. Another knight—this time, far taller than the rest and akin to a general appears from Jinwoo's shadow, standing in front of you with nothing less than a respectful bow.

"Uhm—I'd like to have the steak, please. Medium rare, the seasonal vegetables on the side."

"Igris...?" The knight shifts its metal body to face Jinwoo, head still lowered. "I'll have the same." Jinwoo mumbles once he blinks away the shock.

Igris nods, taking in your order with a respectful bow.

And then... Another round of madness began.

From one corner of the clearing, a portable cooking station is dragged into view by two lesser knights. It screeches faintly against the stones. A third knight strikes a match and lights the stove with all the solemnity of a sacred ritual. The fourth knight hands over a plain white apron. Igris solemnly takes it and dramatically flips it, tying it around him with all the flare of an 8 star chef.

You make noise—a combination of surprise and amusement as he stands before you with the kitchen in full view. You blink, and then Beru appears beside Igris. "Igris shall now prepare your meal personally," Beru says with hushed reverence, like this is a Michelin-starred rite of passage

A beat—a second spent with you looking pleasantly confused and entertained, and Igris gets to work.

He slices the vegetables with flare—beating the world record for slicing onions with ease. He's quiet, only the sound of metal clanking as he moves around the kitchen—performative but efficient. Flames leap with every toss of the pan, vegetables chopped mid-air, diced, tossed in full arcs and smoothly delivered to the pan with practiced ease. A symphony of sizzling sounds fills the area as the aroma wafts over the open clearing.

You're biting your lip, trying not to lose it. Jinwoo looks about ready to disappear into the tablecloth.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," he mutters, hands steepled in front of his mouth.

"What are you talking about? This is beautiful." You whisper, eyes glittering with delight. "This is peak art. I didn't know your shadows were so talented." You clutched your stomach, doing everything you can to stop the laughter that bubbles and threatens to erupt. "I don't know what I was expecting when I saw your soldiers on the news but—oh—gosh—"

You pause for air, laughing as quietly as possible, giving up on trying not to laugh because clearly that was a fail. "This is a pleasant surprise." Jinwoo lets out a defeated sigh, slumping in his chair like a man who's just lost a very serious battle—perhaps against dignity, or sanity, or both. You can't tell. You're too busy watching Igris precisely sprinkle salt from an unnecessary height, eyes glowing faintly with what can only be described as prideful culinary resolve.

Once the show is over and the food's finished simmering in his greatness, he presents them to you with pride, sliding the dishes over before bowing one last time—this one done to signify his exit.

You and Jinwoo both murmur your thanks—yours laced with awe, his with the dazed tone of someone barely surviving the secondhand embarrassment of being loved this hard by his own shadows. Igris fades away into the darkness, the apron still flapping slightly behind him like a victorious cape. A few shadows clap. One tries to throw more petals. Beru tackles them.

Silence settles again. You glance down at your plate. Perfect sear. Beautiful plating. Aromatic and savory in a way that immediately makes your stomach betray you with a low rumble.

"If this is my final date," you lift your fork with ceremony. "Then at least I'll die fulfilled. Being able to brag about eating a meal cooked by Sung Jinwoo's own shadow soldier is no achievement anyone can get."

Jinwoo huffs, shaking his head to rid himself of the secondhand embarrassment he accumulated over the course of watching his shadows make this the perfect date as Beru so insisted. "You're impossible."

And so the hour passes. The tunes, ever romantic and soft continues, humming faintly beneath the chatter you engaged with Jinwoo. Lighthearted and soft, you exchange jokes with a smile—a big step up from the first date wherein you force yourself to act nonchalant and cool.

"I was going to let this be the last one." Jinwoo begins, swirling the wine glass betwixt his fingers, watching the wine shift from one space to the other with faint interest. "I thought of it as nothing more than paying back what you were due."

Your attention is thrown to him as he begins to speak—much longer than the ones before. He begins it instead of continues, shifting the dynamics as he shares his own thoughts after keeping it hidden for the sake of entertaining you. He looks at you through the glass, vulnerability flickering beneath those usually rigid grey hues of his. "I figured it was nothing more than a passing whim. That maybe—as full of myself as it may sound, I could help you get over the heartbreak by letting you down in this manner."

"For that I'm ever grateful." You say softly—quiet instead of playful. Sincere, if not faintly sad. "I never saw myself going anywhere with you. But then I saw the chance and took it without thinking. I'm sorry for forcing you to play along with my selfish feelings."

He grits his teeth, but continues, wanting you to hear the end of it. "When I saw you in the mirror—I didn't know what to make of it at first."

"Mirror?" Ah—Jinwoo's eyes widen slightly. "It's how I learned of how you felt. Without it I would probably have never figured it out." You made an o-sound. But then furl your brows together again because he's still not quite clear. He laughs at your confusion, only briefly, but indulges you in your questions left unasked.

"It was a dungeon," Jinwoo clarifies, voice soft and distant. "One of the tougher ones. Hidden, even. I went in thinking it'd be a routine clear, but the final boss, it wasn't like the others." He sets the wine glass down, fingers curling slightly against the stem as he leans forward, eyes on you. "It was a mirror. A creature that doesn't fight with claws or spells. It dug through your very memories and used them against you—searching inside to learn what it could use against you."

You blink slowly. He continues. "At the end of the battle I was granted a chance to ask the truth. However, it gave me nothing I didn't already know." He sighs, reminiscing the memory as if it was just yesterday. "I asked it only because I expected nothing—I asked the question that led me to find out."

"Who liked you?"

He nods, tasting the wine on his tongue, lingering. "Close, but not quite."

He takes a sip, and places it down on the table with practiced motions. "Come to think of it—I never got to ask you, didn't I?"

Jinwoo raises his gaze, a playful question—but his looks betray his eagerness for an answer. "Why ddo you like me? I imagine I was quite undesirable back then. Certainly not desirable enough to deserve so much of your mercy."

You blink, face warming slightly as he asks the question—forcing you to answer because who could say no to a face like that?

You hum, playing with the rim of the glass as you try to explain it. "I don't quite get it myself."

"You were plain and scrawny and insecure and in a tight financial situation—I don't understand how it came to be as well." You huff, leaning back on your seat, scratching your head in annoyance.

Jinwoo closes his eyes, mildly amused and playfully offended by everything you listed—though he recognized it to be true so he couldn't fight back against the claims.

"But, thinking back on it now, it was probably because of the way you refused to give up." You looked down at the empty plate, smiling fondly. "Even if the world told you to give up—you refused. You'd smile when someone offered you even just a sliver of kindness and pretend like everything was fine. It made me want to cheer you on too. Even if I didn't know your story quite well—and then somewhere along the road of cheering you on it started becoming real."

You laughed bitterly, covering it up with a sip of wine to swallow down the nerves. "It scared me a bit at first. I didn't understand how I could be this attached to someone who didn't know me beyond my work, but then when you offered me a cup of canned coffee just when I got off work—I just couldn't stop myself."

Your fingers tighten slightly around the glass as the memory resurfaces—small, insignificant in the grand scheme of things, and yet... it clung. "I'd been having a hell of a day. Nothing was going right, I hadn't eaten, I was running on three hours of sleep—and then you were just there, holding out a can like it was some sort of peace offering." You smile faintly, gaze distant. "And you didn't say much. Just that 'You looked tired.' And that was it. So simple. But it ultimately made everything better for me."

Jinwoo watches you quietly, no smile on his lips this time—just quiet attentiveness. Like he's finally seeing it all clearly. The cracks. The quiet ways you fell.

"I guess you could say that I liked you because even when the world went against you and put you upon one challenge after another, you somehow still found it in you to care for other people. And it... It really stuck with me."

Jinwoo swallows hard, and for once—for once—he doesn't know what to say. The silence that stretches between you is full, but not heavy. He leans back in his seat, one hand lifting to brush through his hair as he laughs—quiet and breathless, a little disbelieving.

"I..." He begins, the words felt heavy on his tongue, but he wanted to say it still—"I don't want this to end just yet." You blink. "Pardon?"

"Five dates came to pass. Strictly speaking, everything will end after tonight." Your eyes flickered with a hint of sadness at his reminder.

"But not yet." He gulps down thickly, hands trembling just slightly as he continues. "You like me, don't you?"

"I—uh, yes?"

"Then let me be selfish." His index finger taps against the clothed table. "Five dates. I want five more dates with you. Just to confirm something."

"I—what?" Your voice reaches a pitch too high for your comfort, heart suddenly having a stroke as you try all you can to not misunderstand his words.

"The first five was your request. Now I ask the same." He leans closer, his eyes burning for the first time with a certain passion remiss throughout his life. It's subtle, but when you peer in his eyes you see it—the fire crackling beneath the depths. "You told me six and more is too long—I beg to differ."

"Entertain me, will you?"

"I—I—huh?!" He laces his fingers through yours, intertwining them and pulling it closer to him. His cheeks glow faintly of red, showing that even he is not immune to love.

You avert your gaze, pinch yourself, shake your head enough to make you dizzy—but nothing wakes you up from this. Was this truly reality? If so, then. "I'd go ten more if you'd like." You murmur, both a whisper and a scream.