#BUT STILL I JUST WANT FLUFF đđđ
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guys im gonna go mad Iâve been scrolling trying to find a SINGLE fic that doesnât contain smut for the past 10 minutes . is it so hard to ask for a fic thatâs fluffy or even angsty like đ finna whip out a new fic rn cuz âŠ.
#sturniolo triplets#nick sturniolo#matt sturniolo#azul talks âź#Yall need holy water#The amount of smut on this app is insane#it is tumblr tho so idk what i expected#BUT STILL I JUST WANT FLUFF đđđ
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Youâre walking up to Levi, catching him as he hands a swirled lollipop to the last child on line. You see him take a pause for a short moment, staring at the lollipop with a small frown as if heâs remembering something. He briefly closes his eyes, lamenting in whatever memory is in his head before opening them and giving the excited child the treat. For anyone else, this doesnât mean anything. But you know Levi, and heâs had moments like these before, when anything in his environment triggers a memory. He wears the same pained expression every time, and every time you feel your heart ache.
âHey.â You say softly with a small smile as you approach him, gently placing your hand on his forearm.
He looks up at you, his eyes sad and childlike for a moment before he answers. âHey.â He sighs.
You hate seeing him like this. âYou knowâŠ.theyâre probably making fun of you right now.â You tease, trying to make him feel better.
You watch Leviâs eyebrows knit together out of confusion.
âHange would never let you live this down.â You clarify for him, referring to the fact that he was giving out candy.
Levi immediately rolls his eyes but you see a ghost of a smile on his lips. It doesnât last long. âGood ol four eyesâŠâ You hear him say quietly, looking straight ahead as his features soften at the thought of them.
You move your hand from the loose grip on his arm to his shoulder before leaning down to mumble into his hair. âI miss them too.â
You feel Leviâs hand move over to where your hand is resting on his shoulder, his two fingers securing your hold on him. His touch is gentle but firm. He doesnât say anything but he doesnât have to. He lets out a small hum of approval, briefly closing his eyes at the feeling of comfort you bring him.
You canât bring back his fallen comrades; you canât replace them either. You know you canât fill that hole. However, that doesnât stop you from pouring love into it.
#Iâm truly not okay right now Iâm still processing#The way he looks at the lollipop before he hands it to the kid đ#This isnât the best but Iâm trying to just get my feelings out#I just want to comfort him all day everyday#Iâm sure the next few posts will be more processing posts#This is how I deal#levi#levi ackerman#levi aot#levi x reader#levi x you#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman x you#levi x y/n#levi drabble#levi headcanons#levi fluff#levi attack on titan#aot spoilers#postwar!levi#manda writes
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What if I shoot myself. It'd probably be less painful than reading this.
#this is so fucked up how dare they remind me of the myth and crush me all over again đ#and sylus indirectly referring to himself as a monster (again) is just twisting the blade even further please stop đ#i guess after all the romantic fluff we've been served the writers wanted to remind us that we're still playing love and depression smh#sylus x mc#sylusmc#sylus#lads#love and deepspace#lads spoilers#lads sylus#sylus lads#love and deepspace sylus#sylus love and deepspace#mc#mc lads#lads mc#love and deepspace mc#mc love and deepspace
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Lawd have mercy.
#I just wanted to read some suguru fluffđ#Even the fluff tag is filled with smut#lowkey still read them sometimes though#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x you#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru fluff#geto fluff#jjk fic#jjk scenarios#jjk angst#jjk fluff#jjk#geto suguru#jjk geto#geto x reader#jujutsu geto#jujutsu kaisen#jujustsu kaisen x reader#suguru x reader#jjk suguru#getou suguru x reader#jujutsu kaisen suguru#writerblr#foryou#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk drabbles
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am I really about to be the first nsfw request on this blog... sorry for being a whore. can you write general ichiro nsfw headcanons pretty please đâšïž
lol dw anon. I too am an abolute whore for Ichiro. though who can blame us đ but I shall try !! This is my first time ever posting nsfw, so I hope it works!! haven't actually written much nsfw on my own, but I want to get better~ (and also I'm horny lol). but please enjoy!! and lmk how it goes!
â general nsfw hcs.
nsfw. gn!reader. ichiro. 18+ only ; minors do not interact!!
Ichiro . . . is a gentleman, in and out the sheets. a very sweet and attentive sorta lover (though at times a tease)
sorta like candlelight or rose petals on silk sheets. like moonlight that kisses you tenderly. a cute lover through and through; he wants to pleasure you first and foremost
(really though, he's still a dork deep down. still a nineteen year old loser with a huge crush)
heâs definitely a little awkward at first since Ichiro hasnât had much experience in the past with these sorta things; most â almost all â his knowledge comes from hentai and adult visual novels, Ichiro embarrassingly admits
(and he definitely learns that some of the stuff in porn does not translate well to real life; but it's fun and you guys have a good laugh about it)
his hands seem hesitant when they roam up your shirt â heavy as they are on your skin, gentle yet. his dimples your hips or thighs, sweet; he fumbles a bit with the condom as it slips from his grasp a few times, Ichi a little (a lot) embarrassed; and, Ichiro seems to waver, when he pulls back from a kiss. his warm hands up your shirt, hot breath tickling your lips; and, as much as his eyes say, they still shake uneasy. are you sure?
but he only wants to reassure that you want this as much as him! and- man, trust him. Ichiro wants it very much. He just.. doesn't know; it's your guys' first time after all! and he wouldn't want to make the first move if you weren't entirely ready yet
but heâs a quick learner! thereâs definitely more confidence later on, when Ichiro takes off his shirt so swift and smooth, when he shoots you that handsome smile â softness in his gaze
(and he gets cutely proud of himself when you cum like three or four times)
heâs a giver, first and foremost; Ichi is attuned to your needs. itâs just- he loves taking care of the ones he love!! call it his older brother instinct or whatnot. and heâd try to not cum until you do so first
you don't have to go down on him, Ichiro insists. but well, he's not opposed either. he's a little filthy inside, and he hates that he loves the look of you down in between his legs oh so much
very attentive to all your little sweet spots and what makes you cum. though sometimes, he can be a total tease with that too
heâs gentle too!! his little touches are so tender yet hot â never too harsh. especially if you're smaller than him. he could never be too rough (unless you're into that sorta thing)
more of a switch, really; ichiro doesnât have a particular preference, and heâs more than happy to try out new stuff, especially if it's something that you're excited about (what can he say? he loves to please)
heâs not very loud since Ichi tries to contain himself. Sure, the house is usually empty â that, or Ichi makes extra sure to lock his bedroom door. but he doesnât think he can ever look his brothers in the eye if they accidentally heard anything
(which is highly unfortunate since he makes the prettiest of sounds
but sometimes, a particularly load moan will slip through, and the flustered look on his face, the red blush to his cheeks, is the sweetest thing. God- did that really just come out of him??)
he does that sappy thing, where Ichi will trace his fingers up your arm and then hold your hand sweetly; he'll give it a little squeeze too, and somehow, it always makes his heart skip a beat each and every time
and he grunts your name underneath his breath during climax. a little raspy, a little rough; he says it with so much love. your name rolls like velvet off his tongue
he never does moan too loud though, but it's just enough for you to hear and make your heart tremble. theyâre hushed, like a secret meant only for your ears
always mindful not to leave hickies anywhere too visible! maybe a bit lower on your collarbone, or on your inner thighs, but Ichi would never want to embarrass you or make it too showy. Unless he's feeling a bit more confident that day, of course. perhaps a little jealous too
but, ichi does get a tinge flustered, mostly very dork-ily happy, when he sees the marks on your skin. they're very pretty on you.. ( and hickies look quite good on him too! so make sure to give him lots and lots. they just suit him so )
and he likes to cuddle afterward, always. youâre just so warm in his arms, within these sheets. and it almost feels like your heart beats are entwined, breaths too; that's the romantic in him
#âËâč đš requests#hypmic x reader#gender neutral reader#ichiro yamada x reader#smut#n.sfw#do not want to get shadowbanned lol#this is prob more fluff than hot but. alas.#i am still learning!!#who is ichi if not a complete dork#(excuses)#i've been still trying to adjust to year 2!!#that plus my complete lack of motivation has been making it really difficult to write lately :')#actually let's talk about being expected to work or study mindlessly for the majority of the day. majority of your life#drains the entire creativity out of you.#it drains my soul đ#i mean. i do love learning this stuff. truly#but being expected to keep up with these lectures they throw at you is fucking insane lmao#all the third and fourth years keep saying that it gets better from third year and i'm inclined to believe them :')#but then again.. i just know residency is going to be the most soul sucking years of my entire life#idk.. i tried to write all throughout last week. but i just had an exam and then they threw me right into lectures and i was just so tired#also this next week's batch of lectures.. do not look v promising LOL#it's just a lot. why is each lecture split into like an additional three to four parts </3 they're so evil for that#could've just made them into their own separate lectures atp so it wouldn't look like we only have 7 lectures this week-#-when we actually have 17 đ
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i have been feeling compelled lately to finally redo my human designs so i started doing that but then fucked up and only drew the stupid emo shithead and ended up overrendering it in the process of trying to figure out how to get his damn skintone right so anyway the secret blog gets it for now
#art#fluff#HES NOT BUFF he's just supposed to be scrawny but idk if it came out right đ i like drawing biceps too much its hard not to define them#turns out he looks a lot more feminine as a human than he does as a skeleton but well. thats what happens with a haircut like that#and under all that rendering he is in fact. grey#or at least very very close to grey#its rlly hard to get that balance of the unhealthy skintone i want while still not being a straight up vampire#hence the shading. made him look slightly less grey lol#except it started with his lips & then i got carried away bc i wanted to use my new brushes pbblllthth#anyway yeah this was just supposed to be a simple headshot. whoopsies#its 5am and i have to be up early fuck my stupid baka life#whenever i do the rest of them i'll put it on the normal blog probab;ly goodnight
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ITS SO HARD TO LIKE A CHARACTER WHEN YOU DONT LIKE HIS TECHNICALLY CANON BUT NOT REALLY YAOI. GET ME OUUUUUUTTTTUH
#I DONT WANT TO SEE THESE TWO BEING HAPPY BUT THATS ALL PEOPLE WANNA DO!!!!!#with an inherently tragic and angsty relationship it just doesnt work for me. i just cant get behind baseless fluff idk#like the whole appeal is that they hate each other but the love still remains at the root of their feelings#but people never do anything with that. because the show gave us a stupid au where everything gets to be happy and nothing goes wrong#people never wanna explore the actually interesting parts of their dynamic#WHY IS EVERYONE ALLERGIC TO ANGST AND TRAGEDY!!!! DONT GET INTO THE FUCKING ANGST AND TRAGEDY SHOWWWWWWW#i could write one hell of a rant about how much fandom annoys me in this regard đ#if you wqnt things to be happy all the time for these characters it sands them down something horrible#whatever. time to browse the rarepair tags
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I've been wanting to share my merch haul from the recent PokeCon that happened in my country last month - so I thought to start off with these adorable frosted charms I got from Plupip !!! đđâš
I fell in looove with these silly guys on sight - you actually get the choice to either pick out ones to buy individually, or get two different ones at random through a little gacha toy she has stationed at her booth. That's how I got a majority of these - with the most recent ones being my own online orders, hehe :} đ«
She has an online shop with the whole 60+ (and counting!) catalogue of PokĂ©mon charms along with other merch like plushies, shirts, and pins, so do check her out when y'all can! đ„șđđđ
#fluff speaks !!!#not sponsored hehe I just wanted to talk about these since foreverrrrrr since THEY'RE JUST SO CUTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAUGHGWHGHGHG#The Slowpoke is one of my top faves just Look at how peaceful he is đ„șđđđđđđđđđđ#this is the very tip of the iceberg when it comes to my PokeCon haul - there's a whole buncha local artists I wanna promote here as well :}#something to also heal my soul a bit from some really difficult times I'm in#(I still need time to properly process everything and confront it directly but . in time. hopefully things will be alright)#fluff merch haul#pokemon#pokemon merch#pokemon charms#slowpoke#mudkip#gengar#growlithe#teddiursa#mew#piplup#rockruff
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after i finish chapter one of my omori fanfiction im gonna take a break to write/make some more lighthearted stuff because man my heart canât take any more angst
#đ#omori#omori spoilers#itâs still fun to write angst but man i really just want my comfort characters to be happy#maybe i should write some silly suntan fluff or whatever because seeing that always cheers me up
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for research purposes
pairing: caleb x reader
summary: how on earth were you supposed to write a good sex scene with almost zero experience? good thing your best friend was always willing to lend you a helping hand.
themes: childhood best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, friends with benefits, college! au, slowburn, humour, fluff, angst, petnames, profanity, alcohol consumption, sexual tension, explicit sexual content (oral fem receiving, fingering, nipple play, protected + unprotected sex, clothed sex), porn with so much plot, they're both down bad asf
word count: 25k
lyns notes: its been so long since i've written a full length fic like this, and it ended up being so much longer than I anticipated but please don't get scared by the wc đ its so self indulgent because i love caleb and I had way too much fun writing this so I hope you enjoy! <3
This was utterly insane, even for you.
The idea started small, though you supposed you couldnât ever classify it as innocent. At the time, it had been just a flicker, a fleeting thought that slipped through the cracks of your composure. You were in your best friend's dorm, lounging on his bed like it was your own as you complained.Â
âIâve been stuck for weeks now. Itâs like Iâve lost the ability to write.â
Caleb glanced over at you from his desk, leaning back in his plush chair as the movement of his fingers over the laptop keyboard stilled for a moment. The expression you received was familiar, you had been on the receiving end of it for years now. One of his lips quirked up, deep lavender eyes alight with amusement, and one eyebrow raised as he took in your anguished state.Â
âYou havenât lost the ability to write, Pipsqueak, it's just writer's block. Youâve had writer's block before.â
âNot like this.â You shook your head, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin on them. âI usually manage to overcome it in a week or so. Itâs been like, three months.â Your annoyance with yourself was obvious to him, so clear in the slight pout on your mouth paired with that indignant expression.
It was true, you had been writing ever since you were little. Your imagination ran wild as a child, even before you could physically write, you would spin tales and make up stories to entertain yourself with, frequently getting lost in your own little world. You prided yourself on this talent of yours that helped you breeze through English essays and writing assignments, even going so far as to major in English at university. Writing was your bread and butter. It was more than just being good at it, it was the passion and fulfilment you felt when you did it.Â
Passion and fulfillment your ass, you couldnât feel any of that right now.
You were writing a book, your very first one that you started penning in the summer before your sophomore year. The idea had come to you out of nowhere, and once you spent hours outlining all the details, you were certain it was something you wanted to bring to life. The need to finish it burned through you as you spent most of that break stuck at your desk, hunched over your laptop. Caleb had to quite literally drag you out of your room most days, muttering some nonsense about vitamin D and too much screen time.
He had always been like that ever since you were kids â protective, caring, attentive. It was built into his very being, you supposed, ever since he saw you cry outside the first-grade classrooms as a seven-year-old and promised to help you find your way to the correct one. Even now, as he hummed in thought, offering silent support for your frustration.Â
âYouâve gotten through a large chunk of it, right?â
âYep.â
A slow, bargaining smile stretched out on his face. âHey, you know, maybe if you let me read itââ
âHell no.â You shook your head stubbornly. âI told you, Iâm only letting you read it once it's finished, and I think itâs good enough.â
Caleb snorted, âSo you mean never?â
You promptly threw one of the plushies on his bed at him. He deftly caught it, laughter slipping from him as he threw it back. The plushy was a grumpy apple one that he had won you back home at the arcade, but the pile of plushies on your bed was so huge that you graciously suggested that he keep it for you. Partial custody, you had joked, I have visitation rights.
âYouâll be the first to read it. I justâŠ.need to get through this one bit.âÂ
Ah yes, the bit. The part that you seemed to be cursed to never finish. Everything before it had gone so smoothly, the words flowing and pouring out of you so perfectly. A fun romance novel full of twists and humour was what you aimed to achieve, and it seemed like you were succeeding.
That was, until you reached a part of the story that you truly had no idea how to write. The technicalities of it were.âŠ..unknown at best, to you, who had almost no experience in the matter.Â
âYou know, maybe you could tell me about it. Maybe I could help.â You knew the offer was genuine. Caleb had always been someone you could fall back upon for any assistance. Being two years older than you, in your eyes, he always knew what to do when you were in a pickle. He was the type of friend who placed bandages on your scrapes and offered you candy so youâd stop crying. He carried a hair tie around for when you wanted to tie your hair and helped you study for tests, and explained the concepts that you didnât understand. Every time you had a problem, he never hesitated to help you in any way he possibly could.
But thisâŠ.this was something youâd rather die than ask him about.Â
Immediately, you shook your head a little too quickly, shooting him a tight smile. âNope, it's fine. Just something I gotta figure out myself.
He stared at you skeptically but shrugged. âAlright. Let me know if you change your mind, okay?â
You wouldnât.
Would you?
Absolutely not. Even thinking about it felt like a betrayal. It was like opening a can of worms that held snakes. Deadly venomous ones.Â
And yet here you were, your teeth digging into the plush of your lower lip as he turned back to his laptop screen, continuing to work on whatever assignment he had due. He was in his final year and was infinitely busy, though he somehow still managed to make time for you.Â
Shamelessly, your eyes studied him. His arms, so well defined and firm-looking, were basically on display for you when he wore that white, sleeveless tee. Dark hair, unruly and messy, no matter how many times you ran your fingers through it in an attempt to fix it. A defined jawline that could probably cut you if you dared touch it. He had grown up unfairly well, no longer the lanky young boy you once knew, now a man. A hot man you had incredible chemistry with.
A very hot man who was completely off-limits.Â
Still. You supposed that his help couldnât be the worst thing in the worldâ
A sex scene. That was what you were struggling to right. In terms of the story, it was a very natural next move for your characters, and it made sense, and while you could simply artistically describe the ordeal and fade to black, you felt it was a necessary addition. You wanted to showcase the desperation the two characters felt for each other, just how deep their feelings ran through something more primal. You wanted it to feel right, to feel magical.Â
The issue? You hadnât the faintest idea of how to go about it. In all your nineteen years of life, you had only had sex once, and it had been far from magical. It had been uncomfortable and rushed, the result of a very stupid, drunken one-night stand in your first year. The guy very evidently didnât know how a woman's body worked, and even thinking back on it made you cringe and fold in on yourself. If it were possible to manually pluck the memory out and destroy it, you would have done it in a heartbeat.
So how on earth were you supposed to write the perfect sex scene when your one sole experience in the matter had been so terrible?
And you couldnât ask Caleb for help. Even considering doing so made you feel as if you would spontaneously combust. He was your best friend, for crying out loud, and this crossed so many lines. You knew very well that he wasnât a virgin by any means, having caught glimpses of the occasional hickey on his neck despite his best efforts to hide it from you. He was twenty-one, experienced and could probably talk you through itâ
Nope. Not going here.Â
The idea of Caleb explaining sex to you was mortifying. You didnât want to hear about any of his conquests, even just the thought of him talking about it made you want to throw up. The notion of him having sex only made your cheeks warm and your throat go uncomfortably dry.
Against your will, the thought festered. It burrowed its way into your mind and settled there as if it belonged, despite its having no business being there. This was completely unethical, but before you could stop yourself, your gaze zeroed in on his tongue darting out of his mouth, licking his lips in concentration as he typed out something. For a second, you wondered how it would feel if he dragged that tongue across the skin of your neck.
Oh my god. What if he simply showed you?
The moment that depraved idea popped into your head, you shot up, getting to your feet with urgency. Startled, he looked over at you, frowning at the alarmed look on your face.
âAre you good?â
âIâm great!â Your voice sounded funny, like you were trying to digest a rock. âI justâ erâ remembered I have some homework to finish for tomorrow. So I should get back to my room.â You padded over to his door, slipping into your shoes and waving at him. âSee ya.â
â....Bye.â He watched your awkward, rushed movements with a puzzled look on his (very nice) face.. You nodded curtly before opening the door and escaping the confines of his dorm, out of his scrutinising gaze that could read you annoyingly well. Another minute in there and you knew he would be grilling you for your odd behaviour.Â
Jesus Christ. You were so screwed.
âY/n? Girl, you gotta get your head in the game.â
Taraâs voice cut through your reverie, causing you to snap out of it. One glance up at her would reveal an unimpressed look directed at you, her hands on her hips. âOur darling editor wants to know why your article isnât on her desk yet.â
Tara was your closest friend after Caleb, and you had met her when you joined the university paper as a student journalist. She was smart, pretty and always had your back no matter what. Blinking rapidly, you sighed, waving your hand.Â
âTell Jenna Iâll have it there by the end of the day.â
âYou better. You know how she is about deadlines.â Tara pulled one of the chairs from the desk beside yours closer and sat on it, resting her elbows on the armrests. âSeriously, though, why are you spaced out today?â
Well, there was no way you could tell her the truth about that. So you resorted to using a half-truth as an answer. âWriter's block.â
âAh.â
You turned back to the screen of your computer, staring at the article you had been writing. It was almost finished, thank god. At least here, you had the facts to write around, having done your research. Very different to the situation you found yourself in regarding your stupid book.
Ugh.Â
âBy the way, your boyfriendâs here.â
Your head snapped up at her words, already ready to argue, knowing exactly who she was talking about. Walking into the newsroom holding two coffees was Caleb, wearing that blue-orange jacket that you had bought him for one of his birthdays. He did this pretty often, sauntering in like he owned the place even though he was technically not allowed to be there. Jenna had repeatedly reminded him of this, but he brushed it off, and after a while, she simply stopped bothering. Thus, despite not being on the paper, he spent a lot of time in the newsroom.
This was another problem you faced daily: people mistaking him for your boyfriend. The number of times you had to rehash the fact that he was simply your best friend was astounding, and back when you were a freshman, the constant whistles about you dating an upperclassmanâ and none other than Caleb Xiaâ drove you mad. You chalked it down to none of them being fortunate enough to experience a friendship as fulfilling and real as the one you had with him.
âHeâs not my boyfriend.â You dropped your voice, keeping it just loud enough for her to hear your rebuttal that held a hint of venom, plastering a smile on your face as he closed in. Tara snickered.Â
âSure, and Iâm the queen of England.â
âHey,â Caleb grinned down at you, his eyes momentarily flitting to your friend. âAnd what?â
âNothing,â you said brightly, shooting her a murderous look that silently told her to zip it. She smiled innocently and shook her head, slipping back to her desk without another word.
âSheâs an odd one,â he quipped, handing you one of the coffees and then shrugging off the jacket, dumping it on the free space on your desk. You already knew it was your regular order, something he had memorised years ago. You sipped the drink, letting the hot liquid calm you down, grateful for the caffeine. You hadnât gotten much sleep the night before, spending it tossing and turning in your bed.
And why was that?
Caleb leaned against your desk. âAre you free later today?âÂ
A dejected sigh escaped you. âUnfortunately, no. I need to finish this article by the end of the day, and it seems like my writer's block has infected every aspect of my life.â It was ironic, just how true that statement ran.
âDamn.â You could hear the tinge of disappointment in his voice. âI was hoping we would have movie night. I stocked up on your favourite candy.â He reached over, his fingers brushing against the skin of your forehead as he pushed some of your hair that fell in front of your eyes away from your face, neatly tucking it behind your ear like it was second nature. It was, you supposed, considering he had done so about a hundred times.
But something was different this time, or perhaps you were paying far too much attention to every little thing. To how he pulled back and the way the muscles in his forearm shifted subtly, making you wish he had kept the jacket on. The brief touch lingered on your skin, burned into it.
Fucking hell, you were a mess. A tragic, down-atrocious mess.
Your eyes lingered on his fingers for a moment. Heat crept up your neck, and you coughed, rubbing it absent-mindedly, hoping to push down the flush you felt taking over your body. It had been like this ever since the day in his dorm when your brain had decided to work against you and infect you with the thought of sex with your best friend.
What better way was there to describe your state than calling it an infection? It certainly felt like some sort of sickness with the way it plagued you against your will. Somehow, it was worse than the doomed crush you had harboured for him back when you were in high school, because at least that had been innocent. That was born out of pure admiration, and you were sixteen. A lot of things done at sixteen could be brushed off under the excuse of being young and naive. You had quickly gotten over it.Â
You were evidently no longer so naive. In fact, you knew too much.
âMaybe next time.â You managed to choke out finally after a silence that had stretched a beat too long. Part of you hoped heâd leave you alone now so that you could calm down and refocus your attention to the article.Â
But of course, he didnât. Instead, he occupied the chair Tara previously had, complaining about one of his classes as you nodded along, sipping your coffee and glancing between him and your screen. The smooth cadence of his voice usually soothed you and calmed you down, but now it only put you on edge, flowing over scrambled thoughts like honey. Had his arms always been this nice?
You were going to hell.
All things considered, you held yourself to certain standards. You were a woman with morals and integrity, and you were not in the habit of staring at shirtless men.
Except when it was Caleb, apparently.Â
âWhy are you half-naked?â You blurted out gracelessly, heat viciously curling up your body as your eyes dropped down to his torso. You gripped the Chinese takeout you had gotten on your way back from your evening class a little tighter as you took in his figure. A silver chain with a tag and apple pendant (something you had given him before he left for university while you were still struggling in high school) on his bare chest and perfect sculpted abs, running shorts hanging low on his hips.Â
âI was working out.â He said casually, taking the bag of takeout from your hands and walking back into his dorm, leaving you to follow him. You bit down on your tongue hard, almost hoping youâd draw blood.Â
This was ridiculous. You had seen him shirtless several times before and had never reacted like this. The other times hadnât caused you to flush and definitely didnât cause your heart rate to spike. It didnât have you furiously fighting off thoughts that had threatened to consume you for over a week now, pushing them back into the furthest parts of your mind and locking them there.Â
âIâm almost done, could you grab sodas from the fridge?â Caleb placed the food on the table beside his bed. You wordlessly complied, picking the apple-flavoured sodas that both of you liked. Turning back to the main area of his dorm, you walked over, only to stop dead in your tracks.
Caleb was on the floor. Doing push-ups.
There was nothing inherently sexual about it in the slightest. You knew he liked to stay in shape, hitting the gym at least thrice a week to maintain his physiqueâ a very nice physique that seemed to be your current undoing. His hair fell across his forehead, a little matted from sweat. You watched as he pressed down and back up, and in a moment of weakness, you wondered how it would be if you were under him instead of standing to the side and ogling like an idiot. Would his necklace dangle above you, swinging back and forth in your face?
Dear god. You needed to be sedated. Put down, even.
Finally, he seemed to be done, lowering himself down and then rolling onto his back. He sucked in a breath of hair, running his hands through his hair and messing it up even further. Finally, he sat up and looked up at you, a singular eyebrow raised.
âWhy are you just standing there?â
Brilliant question. If only you could answer it.Â
Choosing to skillfully evade instead, you tossed him his soda can and grabbed his laptop from his desk, settling down next to him on the floor. Tonight, the two of you had decided to have dinner together and catch up on an anime you had started together a couple of weeks ago. It had been a while since you had properly hung out, and you knew damn well that it was all your fault.Â
You were avoiding him. Mentally and physically, especially physically. Caleb, however, being the understanding, saint of a man that he was, chalked it up to you being busy. He made sure to check in on you, shooting you texts or sending you funny videos he knew youâd like.Â
âWe should try and finish all the episodes up until the latest one,â You said, opening up his laptop and logging into the anime site. âThey released a new one on Wednesday.âÂ
Caleb hummed, stretching his arms as he shuffled closer. Immediately, you froze, the close contact inciting pure panic within you. Jerking away from him, you glared, holding a hand out to keep an arm's distance between the two of you, much to his confusion.Â
âPut on a shirt.â
He frowned. âWhy? Itâs really hot.â
Indeed, it was. âExactly. Youâre all sweaty and gross.â
You really shouldnât have said that. The moment the words left your mouth, his mouth curled into a smirkâ one so disgustingly attractive that you were sure your knees would have probably buckled if you werenât already sitting downâ and his eyes lit up with a mischievous glint that told you he was up to no good. Carefully, he wrapped a hand around your wrist, and the contact has your brain short-circuiting and going into overdrive.
âI think that means you want a hug.â
âWaitâ donât you dareâ Caleb!â You yelped as he tugged you harshly, forcing you to fall into his lap, his laughter resounding through the small dorm room. Awkwardly, you shoot your other hand out to steady yourself, placing it on his shoulder as you tumble into him, knee slotting in between his legs and body so dangerously close to his that you wanted to scream. Smoothly, he wrapped his other arm around your waist, circling it and somehow tugging you even closer, until you were flush against him.
âWhat are you gonna do now, Pips?â He taunted, voice just above a whisper right against your ear.Â
Unicorns, you bleakly thought to yourself. Puppies. Cupcakes. Sprinkles.
âYouâre so annoying,â You hissed, throwing as much irritation into your voice as you possibly could in the hopes that it would drown out the shakiness you felt. His skin under your fingertips was warm, and you could feel that warmth through the fabric of your tank top. âGo fuck yourself.â
He laughed harder, the sound so contagious it broke you out of your downright sinful thoughts. You gripped his shoulder a little harder, mentally chastising yourself for the situation you found yourself in, knowing that there was no good reason for you to be this riled up. Playfighting with him was something you were used to; it was natural. It should not have had your blood pressure rising and heart slamming in your chest so violently.
Swallowing thickly, you barely processed how he let go of your wrist, his other arm also coming to rest around your waist as he pulled you further into his lap so that you were now sitting on top of him. Before you even had the chance to react to that, he buried his face in the crook of your neck and inhaled.Â
âMissed you this week,â He mumbled softly against your rapidly heating skin. You froze for a split second at the contact, hopelessly blaming the flush spread over your cheeks on the humid weather.
And then you softened.Â
Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his neck as you hugged him back. âI missed you too,â You whispered, following up with a lie to keep him off your trail. âJust had a lot of work.â
âI know,â he said so patiently that you instantly felt guilty. He lifted his face from your neck so that he could stare at you, and it hit you just how intimate the position the two of you were in was. Although reserved with others, Caleb had always been pretty openly affectionate with you. His hand on the small of your back, fingers intertwined with yours, a light kiss to your temple in encouragementâ he had been doing stuff like that to you since you were ten.Â
So why did it suddenly affect you so much? Why did something so normal for you make you feel so different now?
âJustâŠ.tell me about it,â he continued, those mesmerising purple eyes of his locked onto yours. âShoot me a text. Let me know what's up with you. Donât you remember the last time you shut everyone out because you were stressed?â
You did remember. It was during your finals last year, when the workload you had overwhelmed you so badly that you simply pushed everyone away until they were over. Caleb had to practically storm his way back into your life and demand that you take a break and slow down before you worked yourself to the bone. The fact that he remembered this only made your guilt worse because your distance this time had nothing to do with your classwork.Â
It had everything to do with him, though.Â
âYeah, yeah,â you mumbled, slowly slipping out of his embrace and settling down next to him once again. You had to remind yourself of what he was to you, and all this thirsting for him was neither healthy nor something a good best friend would do. âIâm not gonna do that again.âÂ
âIâm just saying. And what the hell am I supposed to do with my free time if youâre not here to bother me?â He flashed you that shit-eating grin of his that you were starting to think was more devastating than mischievous.
You had to resist strangling him.
There was only one possible conclusion: something was deeply wrong with you.
How else were you supposed to explain your borderline insane behaviour? It had gotten even worse lately, causing you to daydream at the most inconvenient times, like when you were trying to get an assignment done or even in the middle of class. It was a wonder your professors hadnât called you out for it yet.Â
Some level of restraint seemed to remain, though, with you stopping your thoughts from crossing any lines. The moment you caught your mind straying into dangerous territory, you forced yourself to stop, desperately searching for another distraction.
But there was only so much you could do. Thinking was proving to be a dangerous activity.
You pressed your palms into your eyes, hard. It was almost three in the morning, and you hadnât gotten a wink of sleep. Earlier, you had tried to write around the damned scene, but emerged fruitless. It was like an obstacle you had to clear before you could get to the next level of a game, taunting you with its incompletion.
Something else taunted you, simmering underneath the expanse of your skin. Things that hadnât even happened yet, but you had already dreamed of themâ his mouth on yours, his hands tracing your body with a feather touch.Â
You were even wearing one of his shirts right now, the oversized tee reaching down to your mid-thighs. Several, just like the one you currently wore, sat neatly in your closet, having been stolen from him over the years. You could faintly smell his cologne; cidery and comforting, enveloping you in what felt like it could be his embrace. Turning onto your side, you pulled the blanket over your body and stared at the wall blankly.Â
Caleb had been your safe space for so long, and perhaps that was why you gravitated so easily to thinking about him like this. If there was anyone you trusted in such an intimate sense, it was him.Â
Even if it shouldnât have been.
God knows you needed to get laid. Unfortunately, you didnât want just anyone.
You swore you had never been this horny before, least of all for your best friend. Thinking about him in such a salacious way was strictly a new development that was quickly ruining your life, haunting you day and night. Even now, lying in your bed, heat that was impossible to ignore bloomed between your legs.Â
Maybe if you just indulged once, this madness would stop. Maybe you just needed an orgasm, and then youâd stop going insane over every single interaction you had with Caleb. It didnât even have to be about him, and this was normal; everyone needed a release now and then.Â
Your fingers slipped between your legs, pushing the fabric of his shirt up, tracing the outline of your cotton underwear. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let your fingertips gently graze against where you needed them most, letting your legs fall apart just a little bitâ
Deep purple eyes flashed behind your closed eyes.
Gasping, you retracted your hand like you had been burned. There was no way in hell you could touch yourself with him in mind; that was everything you had been avoiding for the past three weeks, ever since the notion had first sprouted. Groaning, you buried your face into the pillow.
This had to have been the stupidest cause of insomnia ever.
Caleb đ [15:32 pm] : i better see u at the party tonight :D
Caleb đ [15:32 pm] : will pick u up at 9
Caleb đ [15:32 pm] : no buts.
Caleb supposed that this was technically his fault.
Mentally, he had already prepared for this outcome. It was why he had barely drunk the entire night, barely finishing two drinks and opting out of playing beer pong with the rest of his friends, despite Gideon's need for another member on his team.Â
âCome on, Pipsqueak.â He had an arm around your waist to help steady you, ensuring you wouldnât fall flat on your face. You stumbled into the elevator, and he jammed the number of your dorm floor as you wrapped your arms around his torso weakly, leaning into him. Right now, he was the only thing keeping you upright.
You were drunk, slurring your words and unable to walk in a straight line without any assistance type of drunk. And yes, this was his fault.Â
Probably. Definitely.
One of the frat houses had thrown a party, and he had insisted that you come with him. He had always been great at reading you, and for the last couple of weeks, you had seemed tense over something, though you hadnât told him what exactly it was yet. That was fine, he knew that eventually youâd spill, but for now, all he wanted to do was help you let loose.Â
That was exactly what he told you to do when both of you arrived at the party, even pouring you your first drink. Halfway through the party, you seemed more relaxed than you had in the last couple of days, swaying along to the music by his side. He made sure not to drink too much, wanting to be sober enough to safely get you back to your dorm just in case you overdid it.
His intuition always ended up being right when it came to you.
You whined as the elevator dinged, the doors opening. âEverything is spinning.â
âI know, honey, weâre almost there.â He helped you walk into the hallway, smoothly taking your handbag from you and extracting your keys. Holding you tighter, he opened the door and pulled you through, carefully seating you down on your bed and taking your boots off.
Like clockwork, he grabbed a bottle of water from your bedside table, unscrewed it and held it to your cherry-tinted lips. You only used that specific lip-tint when you were going out, and each time you did, he found himself wondering if it tasted like cherry as well. Even now, as he gently propped his index finger under your chin and tilted your face upwards, he entertained the idea of tasting it for himself.
But he wouldnât.Â
âDrink up,â He said softly, âYouâre gonna have a nasty hangover tomorrow.â
Obediently, you parted your lips, drinking with his help. Your cheeks were flushed due to the alcohol, hair a little frizzy from the heat, but still maintaining the styling you had done before the party. To him, you looked stunning at all times, but he could see the effort you had put in to look nice tonight, from your outfit (a black halter top and jeans) to your makeup, which he knew heâd have to help you take off now.Â
Once he deemed the amount of water you had drunk enough, he put the bottle back and went into your bathroom, knowing exactly where to find your makeup wipes. He had taken care of you like this once before, so his body moved like clockwork. There was no point in trying to get you to the bathroomâ youâd probably just sit down on the floor and stay there for the rest of the nightâ so he took the wipes with him and crouched down in front of where you sat on your bed.Â
Smiling, he held your face again, this time a little firmer. âYouâd hate yourself if you went to sleep before you took your makeup off,â he whispered, pulling one of the wipes out and dragging it over the apples of your face. Then, he glanced up and into your eyes, noting how you stared at him so keenly, even through a half-lidded gaze, lips slightly parted.Â
If Caleb couldâve kept your attention on him like this for the rest of his life, he would have.Â
âWhat's going through that head of yours?â He cocked his head to the side, studying your intent expression. Immediately, you looked away, but he wasnât going to back down. Something had been troubling you, and he was determined to find out what. If you wouldnât tell him outright, he would simply have to guess. âIs it your book, again?â
Your inebriated state made it hard for you to hide things from him. You stiffened in his touch, and he chuckled. âBingo. You know, if you just told me what you were struggling with, Iâd help.â He pressed your chin lightly, angling your face downwards. âClose your eyes.â He gently wiped over your eye makeup, making sure it was all off before continuing. âI know Iâm not a writer, but Iâm sure I'll be of some value.â
Finally done, he neatly folded the dirty wipe and placed it to the side. âWant some more water? Alcohol is dehydrating.â
And then, out of nowhere, you spoke.Â
âSex.â
Well, blurting would probably be a better way to describe how you said the word. Caleb blinked rapidly, wondering if he had heard you correctly as his face snapped back to yours, eyes wide.Â
âWhat?â
âSex.â You slurred a little bit as you leaned closer to him, jutting your lower lip out in a pout and repeating it once more for good measure. âSex.â
âI heard you the first time,â Caleb could hear how strangled his voice was, unable to think straight at your sudden declaration. Oblivious to his mental distress, you thrust out your hand and pointed at the laptop that sat on your desk with drunken animosity.Â
âI canât write a stupid sex scene.âÂ
You sounded so crestfallen, and he would have totally started sympathising with you if not for the reason. A sex scene? What on earth were you writing?
âIââ He swallowed, âWellââ
âI mean, how am I supposed to write a good sex scene if I donât know what good sex feels like? Or what even like, happens?â Alcohol had certainly loosened you up, and perhaps a bit too much, having erased any filter that you had. This resulted in you rambling on about everything you would have usually kept to yourself, and for good reason. âThe sex Iâve had has been shitty.â
The sex youâve had? Caleb almost bit his tongue off in shock, staring at you incredulously at the information you had dumped on him. He hadnât even known you had been having sex, and thank every god for that, because he would have probably jumped off a cliff if you ever talked about your sex life with him. Surely, this was some sort of twisted fever dream he had found himself in. This could not have been real life.
âChrist,â He choked out, âIâokay, maybe I canât help youââ
âYeah, you can.â Your eyes cut to his, a little too intense for his sanity. âIf you fucked me, Iâd probably be able to write the scene.â
He gaped at you, about a dozen inappropriate thoughts running through his head before he could stop it. âWhat did you just say?âÂ
Teenage Caleb would have died if he had heard you say that. Adult Caleb nearly did.Â
You sighed heavily, and it only succeeded in causing him to spiral even more. âI thought about it. Iâm sure it would be good, yâknow. Youâd know what you were doing, you even look like youâre good at it.â
âYouâre so drunk.â He tried to reason with himself out loud, but could hardly recognise his voice with how strained he sounded. Looked like he was good at it? What alternate dimension had he just fallen into?Â
âOh, come on, Caleb. I need some hands-on learning, and youââ you slurred the words as you leaned close and wrapped your hands around his bicep, peering up at him through your lashes. ââhave very nice hands. Theyâre hot.â
You, his best friend, his pipsqueak, had thought about sleeping with him. You thought his hands were hot. The news nearly killed him, and he had to force himself to look away from you, his mind running at a mile a minute. Heat prickled at his face and neck, impossible to ignore as he cleared his throat and stood to his feet, pulling away from your touch.Â
âYou should sleep.â He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, stepping away from you. âIâIâll see you tomorrow.â It was as if he were going through puberty all over again, with the way his voice cracked embarrassingly as he spoke. He left your room hurriedly, barely getting his shoes back on as he closed the door behind him and leaned against it.
Caleb exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose as the back of his head hit your door. All these years of barely keeping it together around you, carefully tiptoeing between right and wrong, only for you to come and crash into whatever self-restraint he had left.Â
Right and wrong.Â
All of a sudden, he wasnât sure if he was going to choose correctly anymore.Â
Death had to have been more merciful than the pounding in your head. Grabbing the covers, you pulled them over yourself like a cocoon, trying your hardest to block out all noises and sink even further into your mattress.Â
Unfortunately, your hangover-induced headache made it nearly impossible for you to go back to sleep. Cursing, you forced yourself out of bed and into the bathroom to freshen up and change out of your clothes and into something more comfortable. Naturally, you gravitated towards an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts, pulling them on after a quick shower.Â
Then, you went right back to your bed, not wanting to face the day in the slightest. You had managed to resist throwing up so far, and even the thought of having to function like a normal human being made you recoil into your blanket and stay there for the rest of the week. Just as you began to genuinely entertain that notion, a sharp knock at your door caught your attention.
You would have ignored it if you didnât know the pattern of this knock by heart. No one but Caleb knocked twice in sequence.Â
Cursing under your breath, you scrambled to the door and opened it, squinting as the bright light of the hallway outside nearly blinded you. There he stood, grinning down at you as he held up a paper bag.Â
âAspirin.â
âThank god,â you immediately let him in, taking the medicine from him and pouring yourself a glass of water. He stood right behind you as you took the pill, ruffling your already messy hair and staring for just a second too long.Â
âBad morning, huh?â
âYou have no idea.â You winced at the whiny nature of your voice. âIt feels like my head is trying to stab itself.â
Caleb chuckled dryly, sitting down on your bed and watching as you settled at your desk and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to smooth out the knots. Something was different about the way he was looking at you, but you couldnât quite put your finger on it.
âYouâll be fine,â He muttered, shifting his gaze to the ceiling. You frowned, taking in the way his jaw ticked, and placed your glass of water down.
âAre you okay?â
âMe? Yeah, Iâm fine.â He said it a little too brightly, glancing down at your desk. Something flickered in his eyes. âMade any progress on that book of yours?â
A frustrated sound left you buried your face in your hands, elbows on your desk. The reminder of your stagnant writing somehow worsened your headache, as if that was even possible. Of course heâd bring that up. âAs usual, no.â
For a while, you had hoped that inspiration would strike you eventually, but it seemed like you were well and truly stuck. It had only taken a turn for the worse, with you suddenly despising everything you had already written, unable to even skim any of it without cringing and wanting to hit delete. Your inability to write had morphed into impostor syndrome, which was a development you didnât appreciate in the slightest.
âItâs okay,â he said, and you would have mistaken his tone for reassuring if not for the way his lips twitched slightly. âIâm sure youâll be able to write eventually. After you fuck me, apparently.â
Silence.Â
Razor-sharp silence.
Slowly, you turned your head to face him, eyes wide as saucers. âWhatâŠ.did you just say?â
âOnly what you said last night. You said you were sure it would be good, which I beg to differ. It would be amazing, thank you very much.â He dared to smile oh-so innocently, as if he hadnât just upgraded the superlative of what sex with him would potentially be like.
If you thought you were going to throw up before, you were sure you were going to now. You almost choked on your spit, waves of unadulterated shock crashing through your system as you gawked at your best friend, who appeared much too pleased with himself at the moment. If you werenât so utterly horrified, you would have tried to slap the smug expression right off of his face.
âNo.â The singular word comes out breathless, much to your mortification, your gut churning at the implications of that statement. âNo, no, noââ
âOh yes,â He grinned wickedly, leaning back on the palms of his hands.Â
âWhatâwhat the fuck did I drink last night.â You tried your levity, but your embarrassment ran too deep. Reaching up, you covered your face with your hands in a pathetic attempt to hide away from him. Never, in a million years, had you ever accounted for having this conversation with him, of all people, and you were almost certain there was something in your drinks that had made you say what you did.Â
His velvety laugh echoed through your dorm, and you wanted nothing more than to fold in on yourself. This had to have been the worst moment of your life.Â
âI guess you donât remember, huh?â There was an amused lilt to his tone that made you want to jump out of the window. âI can refresh you, if youâd like.â
âNO!âÂ
The shriek that left you was nothing short of abashed. He leaned forward now, smirking at you conspiratorially. âWhat's wrong? I thought you needed,â he paused, as if recollecting the exact words you had said to humiliate you even further. âHands-on learning?â
You pointed to the door, biting back a scream. âGet out.â
The smirk only grew. âAw, but if sleeping with me is gonna help you write againââ
âOUT!â You glared, cheeks flaming. Your anxiety had prepared you for at least a hundred outright ridiculous situations that had no chance of ever occurring, but none of them accounted for the possibility of your best friend talking about sleeping with you. You couldnât fathom how he seemed so unaffected by it, as if he were speaking about something as mundane as the damn weather.
Caleb tongued his cheek, evidently fighting off another bout of laughter. He raised his hands to his sides in a placating gesture, but it did nothing to soothe your frazzled nerves. If anything, it only distracted you further, your eyes betraying you and straying to glance at his hands. A suppressed memory from last night resurfaced in your mind's eye, much to your displeasure.Â
You have very nice hands. Theyâre hot.
That was it. You were never going to touch alcohol again. Sobriety was your way of life now, seeing that you couldnât keep your mouth shut when under the influence. The next time you need to let off some steam, youâd have an iced coffee.
âAlright, alright, Iâll go.â He moved towards your door, hiding his teasing smile behind his fist, disguising his chuckle with an exaggerated cough. âBut Y/n?â
He didnât use his beloved pet name. You straightened slightly, momentarily pushing away your embarrassment at the sudden serious shift of his voice. He opened the door and paused, hesitating for a single second. Then, he looked back at you, all-consuming, violent eyes locking onto yours.Â
âI would do it if you asked.âÂ
You sighed heavily as you walked out of your last class of the day, rubbing the back of your neck and peering up into the darkening sky. Thursdays were the one day of the week when you had longer classes one after the other, which always resulted in you feeling exhausted by the end of it. You barely had the energy to even think about putting together dinner, which your best friend knew, always swinging by once your class ended with enough take-out for both of you and to walk you back to your dorm.Â
Which meantâŠ
âI hope youâre in the mood for Thai food.â
Caleb slid into your view with that easy-going smile of his, though lately and much to your annoyance, there seemed to be a knowing glint in his gaze every time it settled on you.Â
âIâm in the mood for anything edible.â You sighed as you began walking back to your dorm. He easily fell into step beside you, as always, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You supposed it was, considering how long your friendship had lasted. It would be almost twelve years soon, and honestly, you could hardly remember a time when he wasnât around.Â
He hummed, knowing how cranky you got when you were hangry. âSo easy to please.â It was the way he said it, knowing and with a tone so low that it almost resembled a purr. It had goosebumps rising on the surface of your skin. A little outraged at the way you reacted, you glanced over at him, only to find him already looking at you.
It was how he always looked at you, with conviction and every ounce of his attention. Yet, it felt different, more intense. Or maybe that was just your brain playing tricks on itself.Â
I would do it if you asked.
Those seven words had haunted you from the moment he had spoken them. The serious expression on his face mixed with the quiet way he had said itâ it had undoubtedly fucked you up a little more than you would have liked to admit. You were beyond infuriated and in complete disbelief over how he had simply offered to sleep with you. Like it wasnât a big deal or a very major, clear boundary that existed in friendships. In your friendship.Â
If you asked. Like it was that fucking simple. He left your dorm since you demanded it of him, but left you to deal with the aftermath of that absolutely criminal statement of his.Â
And then there was the teasing.Â
Relentless and unsteadying. Caleb would say something a little too suggestive or downright sexual before retreating and pretending like nothing had happened. Heâd hold your gaze a little longer, or let his touch linger, before looking away with a satisfied smirk. He knew damn well what he was doing, and although you did too, it didnât stop you from flushing or freezing up. It certainly didnât stop scenarios from writing themselves in your head.Â
He was torturing you for your little slip-up. He found it hilarious, and now you were the punchline for every joke that blossomed from it.Â
He cocked his head to the side now, a small, tilted smile on his lips as he spoke. âWhat's going on in at head of yours?â
You realised you had stopped walking, and so had he, instead standing right in front of you and occupying every part of your vision. âNothing.â
Caleb quirked an eyebrow, taking a step closer. âYou sure about that? Youâre obviously thinking about something.â The cadence of his voice had always been nice, but now the velvety smoothness of it put you on edge in more ways than one. âAre you maybe thinking aboutââ
âI am not thinking about that.â The statement tumbled out of you before you could bite your tongue. His eyes lit up mischievously.
âOh, so youâre thinking about something after all, are you?â
Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, struggling to findd to find a comeback to that. Somehow, he was even closer now.Â
âMind telling me what exactly that is?â
âStop it,â You almost snarled, shooting him a withering look as you pushed him away in order to reclaim your personal space. This teasing streak of his was getting unbearable, especially since it was anything but innocent and was driving you up the wall. âOr Iâm gonna take the Thai food and leave you with nothing.â
An offended gasp. âYou wouldnât.â
âI would.âÂ
He laughed at your threat and finally let up on you, going back to being the Caleb you knew. He spoke of his classes and the group project he had due at the end of the week, for which he had terrible teammates to work with. It was jarring, how easily he could shift back into acting like he hadnât just insinuated something soâŠ.
Maybe it was just your dirty mind.Â
Unbeknownst to you, it definitely wasnât just your dirty mind. Caleb was mentally punching himself.Â
Caleb had had years of practising self-control when it came to you. Years of holding back and hiding the feelings he had for his best friend, shying away from every opportunity to divulge them. He knew how to keep his hands to himself, his mind from straying and his tongue from running into dangerous territory. He hadnât meant to do it, but your drunken confession had flipped a switch inside of him. The lines had gotten a little blurry, but he would never, in a million years, ever actually cross them.
So what the hell was wrong with him?Â
You still hadnât written a word. Unfortunately for you, you couldnât even complain about it in peace anymore. Not if you wanted to maintain even a modicum of your sanity.
The reason for said dwindling sanity was sitting beside you right now on his bed, his arm slung around your shoulder, fingers tracing abstract patterns on the top of your shoulder. Usually, this would have calmed you down and even made you sleepy, but it achieved the complete opposite right then. You were painfully awake, his feathery touch like electricity against your skin.Â
God, you were so fucked. You had hoped that Calebâs incessant teasing would have put a damper on your sudden, strong attraction towards him, but nothing of the sort had happened. It seemed to have only gotten worse, with you ending up being jumpy whenever he was around, and considering the amount you hung out with him, you were starting to resemble a kangaroo.
Around him, you were constantly tense and always on the precipice of being turned on. To say it was hellish would be an understatement.
âYouâre distracted,â he murmured as the credits of the movie you were watching played. Finally, the two of you had managed to find the time to have that movie night you had passed on weeks ago. You shook your head, glancing up at the clock that hung on his wall. It was a little past midnight.Â
âJust frustrated,â you said finally, because it was the truth in more ways than one. Your frustration with your writing, or lack of, ran deep, but now it was intertwined with another very persistent reason. Being sexually frustrated wasnât something you were used to dealing with.
He seemed to have caught on, though, his hand falling from your shoulder to your waist, curling around it. âWhy are you frustrated, Pipsqueak?â He drawled, turning his head so that he faced you now. Of course, heâd pick this moment to torment you, when you were already frazzled.
âNo reason,â you said quickly, voice clipped. A slow, languid smile stretched out on his lips.Â
âNo?â He asked, the side of his mouth tilting. âCould it beâŠ.â
âStop talking.â You despised how hoarse your voice sounded. You wantedâ no, needed him to stop doing this before it became unbearable. He was your best friend, for fucks sake. The smile on his annoyingly perfect face melted into a smirk that would have had your knees weak if you werenât already sitting down.Â
âI donât think I will.â He whispered, pulling you even closer as he dipped his head down until his lips brushed against your ear. It was like he wanted you to break, and god, you were so close to doing so. His hand slid up your waist just a little bit. A shiver ran through you, one you couldnât have suppressed if you tried.Â
âTell me,â He mumbled, the words sounding much too loud even though he was still whispering. âDo your frustrations have anything to do with a certain sex scene youâre trying to write?â
You inhaled sharply.
Rationality was a funny thing. Every bit of it seemed to disappear whenever you truly needed it. Things you had no business thinking rushed through your head, courtesy of your bright imagination that chose the most inconvenient moments to work. Thoughts you had suppressed and pushed aside every time they had the nerve to pop up swirled around.
The spark that you had been trying so hard to put out crackled to life in your core, its flames spreading all across your body like wildfire. You were painfully aware of every part of you that was in contact with him, his hand just above your waist, sitting there so possessively, his breath fanning across your neckâ fuck. It was too much, but somehow not enough all at once, and immediately you knew what you wanted.
More.
You snapped.Â
Something possessed you as you turned to look at him, a surge of confidence appearing out of nowhere as you drew closer to him. âYeah.â
He raised an eyebrow. âWhat?â
Right then and there, three things became very clear to you. One: You wanted to write. Desperately and preferably sometime soon, because you did want to finish the first draft before you could go in and edit. Two: For some reason, you needed to have sex in order to get over the mental block you had when it came to writing it. Lastly, three: You only wanted to have sex with one person, and it was the man right beside you.
âMy frustration has everything to do with the sex scene.â You said, surprising yourself with how steady your voice was. âBut you can help with that, right?âÂ
Without waiting for his response, you got to your knees, swinging a leg over him and settling down on top. Surprise flickered in his eyes for a second as your hands found his shoulders to maintain your balance, before he spoke again.Â
âPipsqueak,â he started, voice low and careful, attempting to keep the teasing lilt in his voice but royally failing. âWhatâ exactlyâ are you doing?â
âYou told me to ask.â You muttered, dropping your gaze to his lips for a moment before letting it travel back up. âYou said youâd do it if I asked. Iâm asking right now.âÂ
Caleb couldnât respond, still staring up at you, eyes wide and ears a little redder than they normally were. Good. It was about time he had a taste of his own medicine. His hands found your waist again, and he blinked twice, slowly, and you prayed he wasnât all bark and no bite.Â
You wanted him to bite.
âY/n,â he muttered, âIâŠ.I know what I said.â
You raised an eyebrow, your hands slipping up his shoulders simultaneously until they were cradling his neck, playing with his hair at the nape of it. Was he shy? Now? After everything he had said and insinuated, he had the audacity to be all bashful? âSo then you know what Iâm asking for.â
âWellââ
âCaleb,â You cut him off, shifting so that you were closer. âIâm asking.âÂ
Conviction laced those words. You could tell he was reasoning with himself, god knows you could read him well enough to know when he was conflicted, when he bit the inside of his cheek before exhaling shakily.Â
âPips,â He rasped out your nickname. âYouâ youâre sure?â
You didnât recognise the look in his eyes right then as he looked up at you, but it had you unravelling all the same. You leaned in subconsciously, but he quickly moved one of his hands from your waist to your mouth, covering it as his jaw clenched, still studying you. âI need you to tell me youâre sure, Y/n.â
Oh, so this was actually happening. You could feel the heat of your breath recoil against your face because of his hand. The ticking of the clock in his room filled the charged silence between him and you, his fingers brushing against your chapped lips. You swallowed.
âIâm sure.â
Whatever had shifted in you five minutes ago seemed to shift in him as well now. He let his hand drop from your mouth, shamelessly staring at it. âWe shouldnât.â But he pulled you closer, his arms circling your waist and palms splayed out on the small of your back.Â
âItâs for research purposes,â You breathed out, doing your best to justify how badly you needed him. âPlease, Caleb, I needââ
He didnât let you finish.Â
You gasped as he crushed his mouth to yours, effectively shutting you up. The pressure of his lips against your own was dizzying, especially with the way they moved; slowly and precisely, as if he was committing the feel of your lips to his memory. You were hyperaware of his touch on your back, the warmth from his hands permeating through the thin fabric of the T-shirt you were wearing.
Pulling him closer, you tilted your head so you could kiss him better. For the number of times you had mentally chided yourself for even thinking about this, it felt remarkably natural to kiss him, your instincts taking over. Your fingers slipped into his hair, entangling in the dark strands and tugging lightly.
Caleb groaned, and you were on fire.Â
âGod, Y/n.â There was nothing playful about the way he mumbled your name into the kiss, and the unfamiliarity of it sent a shiver down your spine. His lips, soft and just a little hesitant, moved in tandem against your own, slotting in between them perfectly like you were pieces of the same puzzle, meant to be pushed together like so. He nipped at your lower lip before swiping his tongue over it to soothe the sting, and the intoxicating sensation drew out a needy whimper from you.Â
The second that sound escaped you, all indecision disappeared from his end, and the temperature in the room seemed to increase, growing hotter with every smack of his lips against yours. Kissing him was addictive, it felt as if neither of you could bear to pull away from each other.Â
Without warning, Caleb lifted you off of him and pressed you into the mattress, swiftly climbing on top of you. For a moment, he hovered, looking down at you, taking in the flush on your cheeks and heavy breathing, proud to have been the cause of your breathlessness despite barely doing a thing. Going in once again, he brushed his lips against yours teasingly, before giving you what you truly wanted, the intensity of the kiss taking a turn for feverish.
A hand of his slid up your side until he cupped your jaw oh-so gently, turning your face to the side to give him better access to your neck, upon which he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses that had heat rush right to your core. The ache between your legs grew, slowly becoming unbearable, and you rubbed your thighs together with a whine, chasing any sliver of friction.Â
âShit,â he muttered against you, his other hand slipping underneath your shirt and coming into contact with your stomach, causing goosebumps to rise on the skin. Spreading his fingers and pressing lightly, he kept you from squirming. âPips, you gotta tell me to stop.â
âDonât you dare,â you almost snapped at him, impatient and so painfully aroused it was embarrassing. He couldnât hold back the breathless chuckle that escaped him as he moved lower, teeth grazing your collarbone.Â
âIf, at any point, you want to stop, tell me,â he gritted out, trying to hold onto any semblance of self-control he still possessed. âI donât wanna do anything youâre uncomfortable with.â
You nodded quickly. âI trust you.â
That was all he needed. Lifting his head slightly, he fumbled with the buttons of your shorts as he leaned back, all his weight on his knees. Once he managed to undo them, you lifted your hips slightly to help him tug them off your body. He settled between your legs, spreading them until the pretty cotton panties you wore were exposed.Â
Caleb swallowed, his breathing growing erratic and heavy. The wet patch on your panties was his undoing; everything about this situation was bound to be the death of him, but he was too far gone now. He let his hand trace up to your hips, hooking his finger through the waistband of your panties, toying with it.
âIs this ok?â The column of his throat bobbed as he stared up at you from between your legs. When you whispered a needy yes, he pulled the panties down your legs, his eyes darkening the moment they settled back on your core.Â
âY/n,â He said your name like he was drunk, a certain sense of reverence infused in his tone that had your cheeks kissed rouge. âYouâre even prettier than I thought.â
Than he thought? You would have to take the time to dissect that statement later, much too distracted to do so at the moment when he began peppering kisses along your inner thigh, starting from your knee and working his way upwards. The sensation of his mouth tantalisingly close to where you wanted it so badly was almost too much. Just the sight of him there was so erotic that it had your head swimming. You had never felt more vulnerable than you did right then, exposed and willing.
And then finallyâ finallyâ his breath fanned out over your soaked cunt, driving you insane. Liquid fire thrummed in your veins beneath the surface of your skin as your anticipation spilled over. He pressed a light, teasing kiss against your clit.Â
Caleb dragged his tongue over your slit, licking up it all the way to your clit, which he wrapped his lips around and sucked, knocking all the air out of your lungs. You gasped, bucking your hips up against him, and he chuckled, the sound sending vibrations up your body, from your toes to the top of your head.
âImpatient,â he chided. âLet me take my time with you, princess.â
The new pet name sounded so natural coming from him, and immediately, you knew you wanted to hear him call you that again. He flicked his tongue against the throbbing bud that had been aching for his attention this entire time, positioning your legs to rest over his shoulders. The sounds that left you were shamefully loud, and you had never been more grateful that he lived in a single dorm.Â
âCal- oh fuck,â You mewled when he swiped two of his fingers through your wetness, rubbing your folds.Â
âYouâre so fucking wet,â he all but groaned against you, and you could feel more slick gush out of you at that. âIs this all for me?âÂ
Your back arched off the bed when he pressed a finger to your dripping entrance, nodding with a sense of desperation you had never experienced before. âYes,â you exhaled the word as he pushed his finger inside your pussy slowly, your jaw falling open at the pleasurable intrusion.Â
Slowly, he began pumping it in and out of you as he continued to give your clit the sweet attention it deserved, basking in the noises that you made. The pads of the fingers of his other hand dug into the flesh of your thigh, keeping you nice and spread out despite all your attempts to shut your legs around him.Â
When he introduced a second finger to your cunt, your hands found purchace in his hair, gripping and tugging as you panted, unable to focus on anything else. Your eyes fluttered shut as the tips of his fingers brushed against a spot that had you seeing stars, crooking inside you so perfectly. It was as if he knew exactly how to push you to the edge.
Your best friend was eating you out like a starved man and you were enjoying every fucking second of it. He could feel your legs begin to tremble, your impending orgasm building. Shamelessly, you bucked your hips against his face, and the moment he realised what you were doing, he increased the pace of his fingers.
âCome on baby,â he encouraged you, flattening his tongue against your clit and pulling you closer, spurring you on even further. You ground against his mouth desperately, feeling the coil in your core draw tight, so, so close.
âCaleb,â you stuttered his name helplessly, but he somehow understood, knowing just what you needed. âIâIâm gonnaââ
He scissored his fingers inside of you, hooking them just right as he gave your clit little kitten licks, determined to have you fall apart on his tongue. Your sweet gasps sent blood rushing straight to his cock, which was already painfully hard, confined in his jeans. Taking your mound into his mouth, he sucked harshly, thrusting his fingers knuckle deep in your sex.Â
A broken moan escaped you when your climax hit you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as waves of pleasure washed over you. Your legs shook, but he didnât let up, grinning proudly against you as he drove his fingers back into your gushing entrance, helping you ride out your high and prolonging it. Once he was satisfied, he lapped at you, refusing to waste even a single drop of your essence.Â
Caleb pulled away, and the sight of you nearly did him in. Eyes screwed shut in ecstacy and hair fanned out on his pillow, undoubtedly tangled from all your writhing. You looked like the picture of sin, and it was the hottest thing he had ever seen. He climbed back, hovering over you again as he licked his lips.
Your eyes fluttered open, pupils blown out and dark due to the sheer level of desire that coursed through you. You were stunning, and he was destroyed, knowing that heâd never be able to forget the way you were looking at him right then. The way you tasted.
When he kissed you again, it was different. It was a heady mix of heat and tongue and want, messier than the kisses he gave you earlier, the control he had before nowhere to be seen anymore. You could taste yourself on his tongue and moaned, reaching out to touch him.Â
You started at his collar, dragging your hands down, down, down until you reached the hem of his shirt, whining against his mouth as you tugged at it.Â
âTake it off.â
Who was he to deny you? He stopped kissing you, sitting up so that he could pull the shirt off, exposing his torso for you. The way your eyes raked over him hungrily was more than gratifying, especially when they caught on the silver chain that hung from his neck, the pendant sitting on his chest. Tossing his shirt to the side, he pushed your own up your body, exposing the skin of your stomach.Â
âYour turn.â
You let him take off your shirt, tossing it to the side and slipping his hands slip behind your back. He silently asked for your permission, which you gave to him in the form of an impatient nod to which he smirked, unhooking your bra and peeling it off of you, letting the discarded garment join the rest of them on the floor.Â
One look at you and he was a goner.Â
âFuck,â he could feel himself straining his jeans as he took in the sight of your breasts, so perfect and plush. He allowed himself a moment to appreciate you in all your naked glory, before leaning back down, his mouth back on your overheated skin. He dragged his tongue down your neck, sucking and biting like there was no tomorrow.Â
His lips trailed downwards, kissing the swell of your breast before wrapping around your already hard nipple, stroking his tongue against the aching peak. He palmed the other breast, giving that nipple equal amounts of attention and rolling it under his thumb. You hissed in pleasure, breathless as you arched into his addictive touch.
You could barely think straight; everything he was doing to you sent you into complete overdrive. Every touch was criminally good, the simplest of them causing your arousal to increase tenfold. Perhaps it was because it had been so long since you had last had sex, but you had never before felt so frenzied.
Hooking your legs around his waist, you could feel the outline of him pressing against your thighs. Angling your hips, you pressed your bare pussy against his bulge, the roughness of the denim rubbing you just right. He looked up at you from your chest through hooded eyes, earning another whimper as he pinched your nipple.
âYou sound so good.â His words went straight to your head. âTell me what you want.â
He said it like it was a command, and who were you to disobey, especially when you knew exactly what you wanted?Â
âI want you inside me,â you whimpered, voice heated with lust.Â
How could he ever refuse you? Caleb gave you one last kiss before reaching over to his bedside table, grabbing something from the drawer and sitting up and unzipping his pants. You couldnât help but stare as he impatiently kicked off his jeans and boxers, eyes widening when you finally saw his cock.Â
Fuck, it was big. Long and painfully hard, you could hardly believe he was hard because of you, but the proof was in front of your very eyes. Your lower lip caught between your teeth as you drank in the sight of him, hyperaware of the wetness that coated your thighs.Â
He tore open the condom packet, smoothly sliding it onto himself before settling between your legs once.Â
âW-will it even fit?â You squeaked, a spike of fear cutting through the lust-filled haze of your mind. He grabbed one of your hands, bringing it to his lips and pressing your fingers to them, kissing your knuckles soothingly as he bit back a smile.Â
âItâll fit.âÂ
âButâ there's no way,â You spluttered, âItâs gonna hurt.â Not that the prospect of being in a little pain deterred you by any means, you were way too horny to stop now. Complaining was probably the least sexy thing you could have done in the moment, but he seemed unbothered, the dark, hungry glint in his eyes never fading. The amused look on his face, however, was not lost on you, nor was the way he bit the inside of his cheek, fighting a smile. You glared weakly.Â
âAre you laughing at me?â You asked, incredulous. âI swear to god, Caleb, youâre going to split me in half, and youâre laughing?â
âBaby,â He breathed, âYouâll be fine.â
âEasy for you to say!â
You wouldnât even blame him if he decided he was done with you and pulled his pants back on, but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, he gripped your hips, grounding you to the moment.Â
Both of you were completely nude, and despite this, you had never felt more comfortable. Not when he looked at you like that, like you were something sacred.Â
âRelax, Pips, Iâve got you,â He whispered, sensing your apprehension. You exhaled shakily as he pressed his hard-on against your folds, groaning at just how wet you were. âEyes on me.â
The way he took control so naturally was alarmingly attractive. You looked up, locking your eyes with his, unable to stay silent when the head of his cock rubbed against your swollen clit. âO-oh.â
He shuddered at the feeling, dropping a little so that he was keeping himself up on his elbows. His necklace swung above you just like you had imagined as he ground against you, but it still wasnât enough. âReady?âÂ
You didnât think youâd ever be ready, but you wanted it so badly you didnât even care. Nodding eagerly, you intertwined your fingers with his, letting him press the back of your hands into the mattress. When his tip caught at your entrance, you whined. âPlease.âÂ
Having you beg him like that was dangerous. He squeezed your hands, and then slowly, carefully, sank into your wet heat, inch by devastating inch. Your jaw slackened, loudly moaning his name as he filled you up and stretched you out so pleasurably. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he pushed into you until he bottomed out, going breathless himself. One glance down to where the two of you were connected had him actively having to fight off coming right then and there.Â
Caleb was in heaven, and he was fucking delirious. He forced himself to stay still, moaning lowly when he felt your walls flutter around him, adjusting to his size. âYouâre doing so well, princess.â He praised, lowering his head to your neck and burying his face in the crook of it, inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm himself down.Â
There was so much wrong with this, so why did it feel so right? You felt so perfect, like you were made for him.
âCaleb,â You whimpered once the sting faded, letting go of his hands and looping your arms around his neck, âMove. I need you to move.âÂ
He pulled out until only his tip remained inside of you, before sheathing himself again, causing you to curve off the bed, nails digging into his skin. He did it again and again, nearly growling when he felt you grow even wetter, coating the length of his cock in your slick. Wet sounds that had your cheeks burning filled the room repeatedly.
âFuck baby, youâre so tight,â He practically growled, contrasting the tender pace he set, telling you he was holding back for your sake. You could feel every inch of him as he dragged against your walls, reminding you how big he was with every thrust. Â
Your friendship was potentially ruined, but it felt too good for you to care. With your legs locked behind his back, you gripped his biceps, a wanton moan escaping you as your eyes fluttered shut, the pleasure overriding every other sensation. Â
âSo good,â words were hard to put together, and he understood and nodded, holding your hips so tight you were sure there would be marks, just like the marks that blossomed all over your neck and chest from his earlier ministrations. Right now, though, you didnât care about that, consumed by the waves of euphoria rushing through you.
Slowly, the frequency of his thrusts increased, rendering you completely winded and unable to do anything but gasp for air. You felt another orgasm steadily build up inside you.Â
Then he tipped his hips a certain way, the tip of his cock brushing against a spot that made you cry out his name, throwing your head back into his pillows. The look on your face was something he wanted to imprint in his memory; the desire lacing your voice was beyond exhilarating.Â
Caleb could feel his own impending high, so tightly wound because of just how long he had waited for something like this. When you clenched around him, he knew you were close as well, but the act nearly did him in.
âDonât do that.â his voice was all scratchy and strained, but you promptly did it once again, high off the notion that you were affecting him just as much as he was affecting you. His hips stuttered against yours as his violet eyes flashed. âFucking hell.â
âOh my god,â you moaned, âI canâtââ
âLook at me,â he demanded, âI want you to look at me when you come all over my cock.â
Never in a million years would you have thought your best friend would be so good at dirty talk, but the shock quickly melted into obedience as you managed to hold his heated gaze. Reaching between the two of you, his index finger found your engorged clit and rubbed circles against it.Â
You squealed, overly sensitive. âShitâIâm gonnaâ Cal-!â
âCome for me.âÂ
Caleb would never forget how you looked: at his mercy, crying out his name over and over like it was a prayer as you came, spilling over his cock with a euphoric sob. He snapped his hips to yours with renewed urgency, drawing out your second climax and prolonging the feeling. When he saw the fucked out look on your face, it hit him at once.Â
With one final thrust, he buried himself inside you, coming with a moan, burying his face in your neck once again. His body was damp against yours, his hair tickling you as you breathed heavily. He stayed like that for a couple of seconds, recovering from the intensity of what had just happened.
Wordlessly, he pulled out of you gently, the sudden emptiness you felt having you whimper softly. Peeling the condom off, he tossed it in the bin next to his bed before climbing off of you, muttering something about being back. Seconds later, you felt a warm, wet cloth drag over your core. He cleaned you up, pressing little kisses to the inner side of your thighs.
Once he was done, he gathered you in his arms and pulled you close, kissing your temple.Â
âAre you okay?â He asked, pulling away just enough so he could try and gauge how you felt, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone as he cupped your face tenderly. âI didnât hurt you, right?â
You shook your head and leaned into his touch, completely spent. âNo, it was perfect.â
He sighed in relief. You curled into him, and he wrapped his arms around you. âYou did so well,â he murmured into your hair, massaging your scalp gently. âYou were amazing, actually.â Another kiss to your forehead made you simper as your eyes closed, exhaustion settling into you now that the adrenaline had faded. âTired?â
âYeah,â You mumbled. Your legs entangled with his, and he stopped talking, tracing shapes on your back while you drifted off to sleep. He watched you for a bit, savouring the skin-on-skin contact, his mind reeling from what had just happened.Â
This was strangely normal, no awkwardness or post-nut clarity hitting either of you. Your body lay against his with all of you pressed up against him like that was exactly where you belonged. He could feel the beating of your heart, strong and steady in your slumber, whereas his remained erratic and fast. This was more than just a taste that he had had of you; it was the entire deal, and the knowledge of it all had his morals scattered and all over the place, because now that he knew what he knew, well.
Caleb wasnât sure heâd be able to stop.
It was supposed to be a one-time thing.
At the time, you had justified sleeping with Caleb as research, something you needed to do in order to get it out of your system. You had assumed, albeit foolishly, that once it was over, youâd be able to go back to normal and continue with your life.
But research was an activity that required constant revisiting. Most of it had to be repeated over and over, especially if it included gathering data from an experiment. There was always a control, and then variations of the experiment would be conducted to record the differences in the outcomes.Â
At least, that was what you were telling yourself right now as you straddled him, his cock buried inside you.
Truthfully, you didnât know how this had happened. After that day, everything seemed to be normal, until he showed up at your dorm to help you study for a class he had also taken when he was in his sophomore year. One thing led to another, or rather, one heated touch later, you found yourself under him once again.
And then it happened again, and kept happening. Whispers of it being just for research mixed in with both of your moans became a melody you were more than used to. This was all for your book, after all. For the sake of accuracy and your integrity as a writer.
Definitely not because of how mindblowing sex with Caleb was.
And it absolutely was.Â
He had made you completely insatiable for him, and almost every time the two of you hung out in one of your dorms, it ended up with both of you in bed. Every other aspect of your friendship remained exactly the same, though, which left you considerably confused. He didnât look at or treat you any differently, poking fun and driving you up the wall, staying his usual reliable self.Â
Calebâs hand cradled the back of your head as he kissed you now, fingers entangled in your hair and pulling slightly. You moaned softly against his lips, grinding on him.
You were in one of his shirts, panties tugged to the side since he hadnât had the patience to take them off, needing to be inside of you as quickly as possible. Despite his earlier hurriedness, the pace the two of you settled on now was almost teasing, slowly rocking against him as you lazily chased the delicious high that you had gotten so used to experiencing these past two weeks.Â
âYouâre so gorgeous,â he muttered, more to himself than you, hand slipping under your shirt and cupping your breast, squeezing. When he caught you biting your lip, he tutted, letting go of your hair and using his thumb to release it from your teeth. âAh, ah, donât do that, youâll hurt yourself, pretty girl.â
âToo good,â you complained in that whiney, desperate tone he had gotten so addicted to. Pinching your nipple for good measure, he smirked up at you when you squealed.Â
Caleb quickly learned that he loved having you on top of him. Getting you all to himself like this was a privilege in itself, but fucking you while you wore his shirt? He was on cloud nine. He could feel himself throb in your sweet pussy that welcomed him so eagerly, in turn pulsing around him.Â
He cursed under his breath when you started to bounce, eager to get to the finish line with him. He sounded so good when he swore, youâd never understand it, just like how you wouldnât get how he looked so pretty with a flush decorating his face and sex-mussed hair.
Gripping his shoulders, you tipped your head back, giving him access to your neck. He had taken to marking you up as and when he pleased, new hickeys surprising you every time you glanced in the mirror. Despite his tendency to leave them in places everyone could very easily spot them, you didnât tell him to stop simply it just felt so good.Â
Everything with Caleb felt good, and not only did it feel good, but you felt completely safe. He was so attentive, doing the most to make sure you were never in any pain, often times focusing more on getting you off rather than himself.Â
He thrust up into you suddenly, his earlier impatience returning, and you cried out, falling into his chest. He held you, working you through it and dragging you closer and closer to release. One of your hands fell to his torso, tracing the hard lines of his abs and trailing downwards before your fingers found your clit and rubbed.
Shit. If having you ride him was good, being able to watch you touch yourself as you did was unbelievable. When you came, you came hard, and the feeling of it tipped him over the edge.Â
You were a dream he never wanted to wake up from.
You didnât bother moving, clinging to him even tighter like you couldnât bear to not be touching him in some way as you came down from your high. He smelled like sex, sweat, and that cologne of his that you loved. It was the reason you stole his clothes so much and why you were wearing his shirt even now.
Your first time with Caleb was the getaway drug, and now you were addicted to him, to having his hands caressing you all over and him whispering praises in your ear.Â
âHey there,â He chuckled, rubbing your back. âAll good?â
âGreat even,â You mumbled, sitting up properly before finally lifting yourself off of him. You failed to register how jelly-like your legs felt, promptly losing your balance. He caught you before you fell, grinning.Â
âCanât walk?â You could hear how smug he was without even having to look at him. It was then that you registered the burn in your thighs and huffed.Â
âDonât sound so proud about it.â
âYouâre no fun,â he pouted, leaving you to scoff as he helped you to your feet, following suit. âIâll help you clean up. Do you wanna watch the new episode after?âÂ
Ah yes. Of course, heâd start talking about anime after taking away your ability to stand. That had been the reason he had shown up at your dorm in the first place, but the moment he saw you wearing his shirt, it had quickly become an afterthought. Â
The whiplash you felt was indescribable, and you could only nod, letting him pick you up and carry you to the bathroom. After a quick shower and change of clothes, the two of you settled down with your laptop like nothing had happened, your head resting on his shoulder as you focused on the show.
Neither of you bothered to talk about your redefined friendship despite having sex regularly. It was justâŠ.a new addition. A benefit that you were both taking advantage of, nothing more and nothing less.Â
But even as you reminded yourself of that now, you found yourself doubting it.
There was something to be said about formal events.Â
You enjoyed getting dolled up as much as the next girl, but that was where the fun ended. Having to sit through the event was boring and not the way you liked to spend your Friday evenings. You would have much preferred staying in and catching up on some much-needed sleep.
The editor of your universityâs paper, Jenna, had organised an affair that was being held in one of the college halls. She had worked very hard on it, inviting several alumni who were all successful in the fields of journalism and writing back so that the current batch of students had the chance to make connections. It was open to the entire student body, but she had made it clear that everyone on the paper was obligated to attend.Â
Connections were what helped people get further in life. You were grateful for the opportunity to interact with industry professionals, but didnât understand why she had insisted on keeping it a black tie affair. That probably had something to do with keeping up appearances.Â
You stood off to the side, sipping on your cranberry juice from a cup that was made for something much more refined. So far, you had spoken to a couple of the guests, but seeing that you had been here for over an hour already, your social battery was slowly dying out. The dress you wore was a black number, floor length, form-fitting and plain except for the slit that reached up to a little above your knee. Perfect for an event like this, not too much and on power with what everyone else was wearing.Â
Still, it was a little overstimulating. You guzzled down the rest of your juice and placed the empty glass down on one of the tables.Â
âYouâre welcome, by the way.â
You spun on your heels immediately at that voice, eyes widening and settling on the culprit who stood two, maybe three steps away from you.Â
âCaleb?â You asked in disbelief, taking in his presence. He was wearing a suit.
âThe one and only,â he grinned, his hands stuffed in his pockets. âHere to rescue you from your boredom.â
âWhat are you even doing here?â To say this wasnât his scene would be an understatement. He didnât like wearing the whole suit getup, much preferring casual clothing. Hell, Caleb hadnât even attended his high school prom (though when you asked why, he would never give you a straight answer), opting to spend the night in with you instead.Â
He looked unfairly good. The collar of his shirt hid those lovely collarbones of his and reminded you of how you had bit down on them the other day, the bottom of it tucked into black slacks. He had even worn dress shoes, instead of the sneakers he so loved and a tie around his neck. The entire getup.
âI literally just told you why. To get you out of here. Are you hard of hearing now?â
You returned his jibe with an exasperated sound. âI meant here, at this thing.â
âOh. Well, you did mention it was open to anyone yesterday,â he shrugged, grabbing a glass of juice and sipping on it. âSo that editor of yours technically canât complain about me being here.âÂ
That was true. Still, you found yourself bewildered as you stared at him. He was here. For some reason, even though he was allowed to be here, it didnât make sense to you. You pressed your lips together and cocked your head to the side, studying him.Â
âSo you dressed up and came here.âŠonly to convince me to leave?â The notion sounded strange even to you. Why on earth would he do that? He finished up his drink and put it down next to your empty glass, taking a step closer to you. The simple movement had butterflies erupt in the pits of your stomach.
What the hell?
âStop thinking so much. Do you want to stay?â
You considered it. âNot really, no.â
âDo you enjoy arguing with me for no reason, woman?â he muttered dryly under his breath, his eyes catching on something over your head. âOn second thought, I think you should stay a little longer.â
Now you were just plain confused. One moment he was talking about saving you from boredom, and the next he was insisting you stay? Before you could undoubtedly start another argument just to spite him, he took you by your shoulders and spun you around, pointing in a certain direction. When you figured out what, or rather, who he was gesturing to, you couldnât hide your gasp.Â
âIsnât that the author you like?â
You could only nod dumbly. âRaymond.â Last year, you had a phase where you only read his books day in and day out, absorbing the stories he spun like a sponge. His books were the reason you had decided to start writing your own in the first place, inspired by his storytelling skills.Â
Caleb nudged your side gently, âGo.â
âHowââ you cut yourself off, looking up at him. âHow do you even remember that?â You werenât sure why this entire interaction with him was throwing you off so much, but you felt completely unbalanced. You hadnât spoken about Raymond or his work in a long time, so how did he know? He shrugged noncommittally.Â
âI know you.â He said it so plainly, like it was something trivial and basic, but his eyes bored into yours.Â
Had Caleb always looked at you with such quiet intensity?
He nudged your side gently, reminding you to move. Forcing yourself out of your stupor, you promised him you wouldnât take too much time and walked over, buzzing with excitement.
The conversation itself wasnât long, but it was insightful. He answered all your questions about the industry, and you even had the chance to share for appreciation for Raymond's work as well as ask him questions that you had about his novels. You gave him your utmost attention when he gave you advice, but when he started talking about his characters, your eyes and mind wandered.
Back to your best friend, who was waiting for you on the other end of the hall, leaning against one of the walls and scrolling through his phone. He didnât give a flying fuck about this event, but had still come here for your sake, even when you hadnât asked him to. He glanced up, his eyes meeting yours, and flashing you a small smile.
Oh.
You looked away and back at Raymond, nodding politely and tuning yourself back into the conversation. Internally, however, you were freaking out. Something was very wrong; that was the only reason you could conjure up at the moment for what was happening to you. How else could you explain the sudden sweatiness of your palms, or the odd, fluttery feeling in your stomach? Maybe it was the excitement you felt from meeting the author you loved so much, but even as you considered this possibility, you knew it wasnât the answer you were looking for.
Oh.
Oh fuck.
This could not be happening. You plastered a smile on your face as you tried to pay attention to whatever Raymond was talking about, but the damage was done. Your brain had never been one to let go of a single thought you had, especially ones that had to do with Caleb. He had a hold on you that no one else did, and why was that?
Because you liked Caleb.
The horrifying realisation hit you, startling you out of your rapidly spiralling thought process. Blinking, you realised Raymond was done speaking.Â
âThank you so much for your time,â You said, trying not to sound as troubled as you felt. The author smiled at you before turning to another student.Â
Swallowing the newfound lump in your throat, you turned around and walked back to Caleb. This was bad. Having sex with him was already vaguely immoral and probably something that shouldnât have happenedâ and shouldnât keep happening like it didâ but having feelings for him? That was out of the question.
âGood talk?â He asked, slipping his phone into his pocket. The genuine interest he had in your excitement made the entire situation worse. Why were you noticing all this now, of all times? It wasnât like he had suddenly turned into someone considerate. He had always been this way; it was written into his DNA.Â
You realised he had even tried to tame his hair for today. âIt was great.â
âIâm glad. Now I can steal you away from this place.â His eyes were lit up with mischief, just like they did when the two of you were younger and he did something he wasnât supposed to. Ever the rebel, this one.Â
You felt a little guilty. All this effort for you? It seemed completely useless. âOkay, but Caleb, seriously, you didnât have to do this.âÂ
He frowned. âDidnât have to do what?â
âThis!â You waved in his general direction and then gestured around. âI mean, you donât even like wearing a suit, but here you are. Itâs not like it's compulsory for you like it is for me. You could be doing anything else.â You were rambling, you knew, but it was hard to stop. He rolled his eyes.Â
âHas that stopped me before?â
You paused. âWhat do you mean?â
âI show up to your newsroom even though Iâm sure Jenna wants to castrate me for breaking the rules so much.â He raised an eyebrow. âI attended that lecture of yours when you had a presentation. You know Iâm here because I want to be.â You knew he said stuff like this all the time, you always were the recipient of his support. This was normal.
But it didnât feel normal. For fucks sake, this was the boy you had grown up with. He had seen you fall off your bike, fail tests and puke your guts out when drunk. In each of those situations, he had also been the one to pick you up and bandage your wounds, help you study and hold your hair back for you.Â
Did he think it was an obligation now?Â
âYouâŠ.you shouldnât feel like you have to do that.â You said slowly, but he didnât let you continue.
âOh, please. Everyone knows that where you go, I go too.â He flicked your forehead, immediately receiving a glare in return. âWeâre likeâŠâŠ.â He stopped for a moment, eyebrows furrowing and lips pursing like they always did when he was thinking hard about something. Then he snapped his fingers. âWeâre like those yoghurt-granola snack packs!â
You stared at him blankly. âWhat?â
âYou know.â He decided to explain his stupid analogy, as if your head wasnât muddled enough. âThose things you can buy at the grocery store. The small yoghurt tubs that have a container filled with granola on top of them? Like, theyâre both okay separately, but much better when together. People buy those packs for a reason.â He slipped his phone back into his pockets and beamed at you. âWeâre like that.â
Oh my god. That barely made any sense. You werenât sure if you were mortified because of that terrible explanation or because it hadnât put a damper on your newfound feelings for him. âYouâre such a fucking dork.â
He feigned offence, holding his hand over his heart. âExcuse me? You mean cute, right?â
Right. Wait, no, you didnât. Ugh. âI thinkx ridiculous.â
âAre you coming with me or not, Pips?â
âBut Jenna insisted-â
He rubbed a hand over his face in annoyance before fixing you with a droll look. âWould you rather be here or be with me?â
Be with you.Â
You ignored the way your stomach flipped. You didnât have the time or the mental stability to process everything that was happening to you right now. The logical part of your brain swooped in, telling you that you were just confused because of the sex. Yes, that was it. You did not have feelings for Caleb Xia.
Sighing, you relented. âYou.â Saying that didnât mean anything, after all. Nothing about the two of you meant anything, so there was no reason for you to be freaking out, even if it sounded like you had just confessed. A wide grin made a show on his face when he realised he had won, and he tilted his head towards the exit.
âFinally. Wanna get out of here?â
âJust to be clear, this is not what I meant when I asked if you wanted to get out of there.â
You huffed out a soft laugh, fingers curling around his tie as you tugged him closer. âNo? Could have sworn you planned for us to end up in a janitor's closet.â
Caleb bit back a laugh of his own, knowing that making too much noise would get both of you in trouble. After leaving the event, somehow, his guiding hand on your hip had turned into the two of you making out in the hallway. You blamed the mess that your head was in for not realising what a bad idea that was immediately, but once you did, you did the most responsible thing you could think of.
And dragged him into the janitor's closet that was close by.
Naturally.
He braced a hand over your head on the cabinet that you were leaning against, essentially caging you in as he dipped his head to kiss you again. âPretty sure that was youâre doing.â
âExcuse me? Youâre the one who kissed me first!â You protested against his mouth, but could hardly complain when he kissed you like it was a relief to do so. Honestly, he was probably the best kisser you had ever experienced.
That must have been the reason for your spiralling thoughts. That and the amazing sex that you were so weak to.Â
Yep. Thatâs all. Anyone could be susceptible to such things.
âCan you blame me? Have you seen yourself in this dress?â His free hand slipped into the slit at your knee, slowly dragging the rest of the dress up until it was bunched up around your waist. âYouâre stunning.â
He couldnât stop kissing you. He knew he shouldnât have kissed you out there like he had the right to, because he was well aware of the unspoken rules of this arrangement, but he couldnât help it. If getting too comfortable with whatever you had going on with him was a crime, a sin, then he was a criminal of the highest order. The worst part? He didnât feel a shred of guilt.
But you were wearing that fucking cherry lip gloss, and god knnows he had waited long enough to taste it.
Warmth spread over your chest first before it rushed to the apex between your legs. The control he seemed to have over your body was truly astounding. In his hands, you were putty.Â
âYou donât look so bad yourself,â You whispered back, loosening the knot of his tie and pulling it off completely, dropping it to the side. âThis suits you.â
His lips twitched. âThe suit suits me?â
âShut up and kiss me, loser.â
He complied, grinning against your mouth as he pulled you into another earth-shattering kiss that did positively nothing to soothe your frayed nerves. Stubbornly, you pushed down the feelings bubbling around the confines of your heart, refusing to give them any attention if you could help it.Â
You gripped the front of his suit jacket, helping him peel it off his shoulders and letting it join his tie on the floor. Without warning, he pressed a knee in between your legs, and you nearly melted against him.Â
Sex was great. Sex with him was phenomenal. This was just the lust getting to you.Â
Caleb gripped the leg that your slit now exposed and lifted it, propping it up against his waist. He trailed his fingers against your inner thigh, his touch feather-light yet scorching at the same time. When his index and middle finger pressed against your clothed cunt, you were glad for the hot he had on you, pressed up against the cabinet, because you would have surely buckled if not.Â
âWow,â he mumbled amusedly, pushing your panties to the side and teasing your wetness. âYou really like the suit, huh?â
The fact that this type of interaction was now commonplace should have been the first sign that things had gone too far.Â
Usually, you couldnât think straight when he touched you like this, but today it was all a mix of feeling way too much and dangerous, fleeting thoughts that made you want to tear your hair out.Â
âMaybe,â You peppered kisses along the column of his throat, determined to get out of your head and focus only on how good he could make you feel. Pleasure and person were entirely separate entities, and you would make sure it stayed that way.
âSuit kink.â
âNever say that again.âÂ
He only smirked, plunging his fingers into you. All you could do was cry out as you gripped the front of his shirt, momentarily forgetting that you were supposed to be quiet. Quickly, his palm covered your mouth, muffling any further sounds you could make. âCanât have you being loud here, princess. What if someone catches us?â
The way you practically gushed the moment he suggested someone catch you in such a compromising position was downright embarrassing. Raising an eyebrow, he leaned even lower and whispered. âOh? You like that?â
You whined against his hand, cheeks flushing furiously. You began fiddling with the top buttons of his shirt, and he chuckled lowly.Â
âFor someone who likes my suit so much, you sure are trying to get rid of it quickly.âÂ
âFor someone who was dying to kiss me two minutes ago, you talk too much.â You rocked your hips against his hand even as you sassed him back. He moved his hand from your mouth into your hair, carding it through gently, tugging slightly to tilt your head back for him so he could kiss you again, swallowing every sound you made.Â
No one could sue you for being attracted to a hot man. That was just biology.
You could feel the familiar tightening of your core, signalling your impending crash. You broke away from the kiss, licked your lips and palmed him over his pants, earning a hiss of pleasure in return.Â
âDonâtâ donât do that,â He choked out, and you smirked triumphantly, refusing to relent on your movements. Batting your eyelashes, you stared up at him through them in faux innocence, unaware that it affected him so much more than you thought.Â
âJust fuck me already.â You whined, half out of desperation for him and party because now you needed him to fuck you to prove to yourself that this was just sex. To be able to brush away all the compliments he dropped that seemed to go straight to your head, to get the intoxicaing fucking way he kissed you out of your head and away from further dissection. To stop the slow-burning feeling of yearning that was growing inside of you for the boy you had grown up with.
Because you couldnât possibly have feelings for him. You shouldnât.
âFuck, okay,â He slipped his fingers out of you and unbuttoned his pants, releasing his cock. You would never get used to the sight of it, precum already leaking out of the tip; the image itself sending shivers down your spine in anticipation of him.Â
He pressed back against you, grinding it against your fluttering pussy, going right back to making out with you. It was like he was devouring you whole, claiming every part of you like it had always belonged to him. You could feel yourself get carried away again, forgetting that this was just something he and you did now.Â
And then he froze.Â
âShit,â he muttered. âI donât have a condom.âÂ
You were too far gone to even care anymore. Cupping his face, you pulled him into another messy kiss, beyond delighted when he moaned, still rubbing his length through your slick folds with a want that rivalled your own. âPut it in.â
Caleb gritted his teeth. âPips, thatsââ
âIâm on birth control,â you kissed his jaw. âAnd I trust you. Iâve always trusted you.â
That was undeniably the truth. He was the one person in the world that you didnât have to think twice about when it came to anything, no matter what the situation. He blinked down at you, pupils blown wide with desire but somehow still so focused on you, holding your sides so gently as he hesitated, silently dealing with the conflict in his head.Â
âIâŠ..are you sure?â
Oh, this sweet, considerate boy. How could you not love him? The thought was instantly forced to be a passing one as you push it away, refusing to acknowledge it.Â
âCaleb, if you donât stick your dick inside of me right now, I will cut it off.â The threat earned you a winded chuckle from his end, the strain in his face from holding back so painfully evident. Realising he needed another push, you looked into his eyes, bucking your hips against him and licking your lips as you purred. âNow, fuck me.â
There was a reason you phrased it like that. Crude and so filthy, the words set out a challenge for him. If there was one thing you knew about Caleb, it was that he could never back down from a challenge. His eyes darkened as he grabbed both your wrists and pinned them together above your head with one hand, positioning his cock at your entrance.
Without another warning, he slammed into you, once again covering your mouth to soften the obscenely loud broken moan that left you. He pressed his fingers against your lips, smirking mischievously.Â
âThis is what you wanted, hmm?â He groaned in your ear as he fucked you hard, making it increasingly difficult for you to stay silent. You knew he was doing it on purpose, remembering how he had briefly confessed that he liked it when you were vocal, but here? Here it was risky and stupid, and you couldnât believe how into it you were.
âYes,â You gasped, biting his hand at a particularly hard thrust, doing your utmost best to keep all your noises to a minimum. He was just so good, and the feeling of him bare inside of you was almost too much for you.Â
âGod baby, you feel incredible,â he panted, never relenting on his pace for even a second. His breathing was heavy in your ear, almost pained, along with soft grunts that only succeeded in making you even wetter.
âSo b-big,â you could only whimper, too caught up in it all to speak properly.Â
He had well and truly ruined you for anyone else. Your heart and mind were at war with each other, but your body was perfectly content with how he held you like this. With nothing between you, he fucked you raw, and it felt so much more intimate than you thought it would have. You could feel everything, hyperaware of every touch and kiss and overwhelming drag of his cock in your sobbing cunt.Â
For a moment, you almost wished it wasnât this good. If only you had never succumbed to your desires that day, maybe you wouldnât have found yourself in this position, fighting so desperately against feelings that felt so wrong and right at the same time. All this was supposed to have been a temporary fix, a means to an end. Not the start of something you could never see through.Â
When both of you came, it was intense and devastating, holding onto each other like nothing else mattered. You could feel him fill you up with his cum and as you went limp, one last terrifying realisation making itself known to you.Â
It wasnât just sex.Â
A shattered breath escaped you at the revelation, and you shut your eyes, trying to reason with yourself one last time, but to no avail. Caleb surrounded you completely, holding you up upright with so much care, so deliberately, that it made total sense why you felt this way. With unending affection, he pulled you against him and kissed the crown of your head.Â
âThats my girl.â
Except you werenât. And it would be better for everyone if you remembered that.
You were writing.Â
It had been so long since you had been able to write like this, but the ability had come rushing back to you all of a sudden. Your fingers flew across your keyboard as you steadily typed, focused and satisfied at the work you were producing for the first time in months.
It was two in the morning when you finally snapped out of your concentrated state, yawning as you shut your laptop. Stretching, you quietly padded to your bathroom to get ready for the night and go to bed. You couldnât believe you had written almost half of the sex scene when even the prospect of starting it had sounded so unachievable not too long ago.Â
Courtesy of Caleb, you had plenty of material to pull from.
You splashed water on your face, hoping the cool temperature of it would help you stop thinking about him. To say you were frustrated with your feelings was an understatement; you outright despised them.Â
This was your fault, you knew damn well it was. If you were going to get a fuckbuddy, it should have been someone who you werenât so close to, someone you had no personal connections with. Anyone but the best friend you've had since you were seven years old, who you knew like the back of your hand, who knew you like it was second nature to do so.
Gripping the sides of the sink, you shut your eyes, grounding yourself to the moment. Part of you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. How on earth did you let yourself get in such a predicament?
You needed it to stop. For these confusing feelings to leave before things got even more complicated than they already were. Somehow, you needed to forget about them.
But how could you possibly do that? How were you supposed to forget the deliberate way he kissed you, or how good he made you feel when he looked at you that way? How were you supposed to get the scent of his cologne out of your sheets and closet, or pretend like you didnât know what it was like to be touched by him?Â
How on earth were you supposed to get over being in love with him?
You didnât even notice him walking in.Â
Writing for your book again meant that you had fallen behind quite a bit when it came to the work you had due for the paper. As a result, you had to stay behind and work late on the articles you had to present to Jenna, stuck at your desk in the newsroom when it was almost nine-thirty at night.
âThought Iâd find you here.âÂ
Your eyes flickered up to find Caleb standing in front of your desk, one hand stuffed in his pockets and the other holding a bag of takeout from a diner that both of you liked. He gave you a soft, knowing smile that made your mouth go dry.Â
âHey,â you straightened up in your seat, knowing that your posture tended to get worse the longer you wrote for. âYou were looking for me?â
âNot exactly.â He grabbed a chair and parked it next to yours, sitting down. âI just figured youâd be working and forget to have dinner.â
âOh.â
He was right, and you would have been embarrassed if this hadnât happened before. Wordlessly, he began unpacking the takeout he had gotten. âTake a break for ten minutes and eat, okay?âÂ
This was just like him. Knowing exactly when you needed to be taken care of while being well aware you could do just fine by yourself. You bit the inside of your cheek as you watched him, apprehensively nodding slowly.Â
âOkay.â
You grabbed a fry and began to chew, turning to face him and away from the computer. He looked the same as always, unkempt hair and all. It was like he knew you were tired and a little out of it today without you even having to tell him, falling into a comfortable silence as he ate with you.Â
There wasnât another soul in this world that knew you so intimately. In the past, this wouldnât have scared you, because you were so used to him and the ways he fit into your life so perfectly. Now, it frightened you to no end, reminding you of how much you had to lose when it came to Caleb. He was the most precious person in your life, which made it so much easier to fear losing him.Â
If there were rules when it came to having a best friend, you were certain you had broken all of them. Number one: Donât sleep with your best friend. Already off to a rough start with that one, it seemed, but there was nothing you could do about it anymore. Number two: Donât fall for your best friend. You doubted you even needed to go over the rest of the rules. Breaking those two had caused you enough damage.Â
Finishing up his food, he took a sip of his soda, noticing you were watching him intently. For the first time in a long time, he couldnât quite decipher the look in your eyes. It almost felt as if you were hiding it from him on purpose.
He tilted the soda cup to you, silently asking if you wanted some of his. You leaned closer and took the straw in your mouth, taking a couple of sips before looking away.Â
Something was off. âIs everything okay?â
You pressed your lips together and gave him a half smile. âYeah, everything's fine.â
Caleb narrowed his eyes at you, reaching out and propping a finger under your chin, lifting your face so you were forced to look at him.Â
âPipsqueak,â He mumbled, dropping his gaze to your mouth for a split second, but it was enough to make you feel like you were set on fire. Like you were made of porcelain, he swiped his thumb next to your lower lip, rubbing away a stray crumb that had stuck there from your food. Then he looked at your mouth again, subconsciously leaning towards you as if he was about to kiss you.Â
Immediately, you jerked out of his touch. Guilt ate away at you when you noticed how he reacted to this, the flash of hurt that passed over his face as he frowned. As much as you hated being the cause of it, the way he was looking at you has started to inexplicably hurt. You were unable to stop the tenderness that unfolded in your chest anymore. It was potent, too real to fight against.Â
âWe should stop.â
The words were out of your mouth before you could think about them any further, inciting confusion. He retracted his hand, the corners of his furrowed eyebrows tilting upwards. âDinner? Because weâre pretty much done with that anyway.â
You could have taken advantage of his confusion and put this conversation off for a while, but you knew that letting this go on any longer would end up being torturous.Â
âNo, Caleb,â You looked away, trying to ignore the way your throat seemed to close in on itself. âIâm not talking about dinner.â
âThen what are you talking about?â His voice took on that impossibly soft tone it did when he was trying to understand how you were feeling to properly help or sympathise with you. It was something he did when you were younger and got hurt, and he wanted to make sure you knew you werenât dealing with it alone.Â
Sucking in a breath of air, you looked down at your hands in your lap, playing with your fingers. âI think we should stop having sex.â
A beat passed. You could feel the weight of his stare on you. âOkay.â
You werenât sure where to go from there, your heart pounding within your ribcage like it was trying to escape. The light from your computer felt too harsh and the ticking of the clock hands was unnaturally loud in the stiff silence that settled over the two of you. Clearing his throat, he spoke again.Â
âDidâŠDid I do something?â
âNo,â the caution yet dejected way he said it made you blurt that out quickly, refusing to let him think something was completely wrong. âYou didnât. At all. Itâs justâŠ..â You trailed off, biting your tongue and regretting bringing this up already. âIâŠ.I wrote the scene.â
âThe scene?â
âThe sex scene. In my book.â The awkwardness in your cadence is foreign to your ears and his. You had never been so apprehensive around him because you had never had a reason to. This was a first you despised vehemently, scorning the way you had to phrase everything so delicately, as if you didnât, the damage caused would be irreparable.Â
âRight.â Now he had an unreadable look in his eyes too, matching yours.Â
âRight,â you echoed softly. âSo there's no reason for anymoreâŠ...research.â Because research had spiralled into forgetting your regular roles when it came to each other. Research had made you aware of feelings that had been dormant your entire life and should have stayed that way.Â
In an ironic twist of fate, you had literally fucked around and found out.Â
âI see.âÂ
You didnât know what possessed you to keep talking when it was so obvious that both him and you wanted nothing more than to move on from this conversation. You risked a glance at him to find him aimlessly tracing the edge of his soda cup, eyes trained on the straw. âSo we can go back to being just friends. Regular friends.âÂ
The clarification made you wince. When his eyes met yours again, you were surprised to find something different in the way he looked at youâ those dark purple depths swirling with an intensity that superseded their usual levels, startling you.Â
âWeâll always be friends, Y/n.â
Caleb didnât call you pipsqueak. A minute detail that shouldnât have shaken you at all, and yet here you were stuck on it in spite of the fact that he had just agreed to being friends again. Or rather, the normal definition of friends, because you werenât ever anything more than that. You swallowed, turning back to your computer.
âOkay. I should get back to working on this article.â
Your dismissal of him was quiet but obvious. The air had started to get suffocating and you needed as much space from him as you could get until you sorted out the mess in your head, one that was your cross to bear. Your fault.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him nod and get to his feet, turning to leave, but hesitating for just a moment.Â
It was only when he exited the newsroom that you realised it wasnât any easier to breathe without him there. It felt even harder now, like someone had their foot over your chest and was putting all their weight on it, letting gravity do the rest of the work. You pushed yourself away from your desk, the wheels under your chair smoothly rolling away until the back of it hit the wall behind you.Â
Even the impact of that wasnât enough to shock you out of your misery. Surely, love wasnât supposed to feel as cruel as it did right now, like claws sinking into your skin and making you bleed. It shouldnât have felt wrong, but you knew that it was. Perhaps this was retribution for allowing yourself to indulge in something that was so clearly off-limits to you.Â
A familiar pressure built up behind your eyes as you turned resentful. The sting of your sorrow manifested as tears welled up and caught in your lower lashes. You shut your eyes, but not before those tears slid down your face, cementing the bitter, indisputable reality of your heartbreak.
Caleb stayed away.Â
He had known damn well that whatever was between the two of you wasnât forever. It wasnât even real, solely for the sake of your writing and the book you were so proud of. It was his fault for getting caught up in it all and expecting you to never call it off, to stay in that limbo with him forever.
Saying no to you was something he wasn't capable of. Not when he was ten and you were eight, and you wanted the last piece of cake even though it was his favourite flavour. Not when he was fifteen and you used to beg him to let you wear his shirts because you liked how oversized they were on you. Not when you would give him puppy eyes and sweetly ask him to cook those braised chicken wings you loved so much.Â
And not when you needed help with writing about sex.
Even if it went against all his morals and everything he had forced himself to believe for the past twelve years he had known you. He had held himself together around you for as long as he could remember, hands to himself and thoughts strictly friendly. Caleb was used to the best friend role. He was good at playing it, even when the script pained him to recite, he did so anyway with a smile on his face.
Because smiling back at him was you. It was always you, with your bright eyes and angelic laughter.Â
Caleb had accepted this role when he was only nine years old and had stuck to it ever since. He let it consume him, living in ignorant bliss as he silenced the pleas of his heart and what it wanted, no, begged for.Â
How was he supposed to know where to go from here? The script had deviated too much for him to return to its safety. He knew how your lip gloss tasted, sweet and inviting and maddening, just like everything else about you.Â
So he stayed away from you and your cherry lip gloss, hoping the marks it had left all over him would fade.
It had been almost two weeks since Caleb last set foot in the newsroom.Â
Jenna was overjoyed and Tara was suspicious. The latter asked you where your âboyfriendâ was, to which you refused to look at her as you muttered the reminder: heâs not my boyfriend. It felt like you were reminding yourself more than her, lacking any of your usual annoyance.Â
You supposed this was your fault as well. It wasnât like you had made any effort to reach out either, stuck in your pathetic little cycle of self-pity and fear. You felt his absence, though, cutting deep into you and leaving you with a Caleb-sized hole in your life. The last time you experienced something like this was when he left for university for the first time and you were finishing up your senior year, suddenly having to deal with not having him around for months on end.Â
At least he was calling you back then, and when you joined him at university, it never happened again. You hadnât realised what a big part of your life he was until he was missing from it.Â
God, you missed him.
You missed that stupid, smug chuckle of his when he knew you were getting riled up because of something he said, and his terrible sense of humour. The smirk on his face when you were losing an argument, and how heâd stick his tongue out when he was concentrating on something. Hell, you missed the sound of his voice and the comfort it brought you.Â
After you finished your work for the day, you walked out of the newsroom and down the hallways of the university building. The cool evening air swept around you, making you think of one of Caleb's jackets that was still in your dorm from the last time he had been, draped over your desk chair. You almost wished you had it with you right now.Â
Your feet carried you to the dining hall, reminding you of your need to eat through the wall of your troubled thoughts. It was not so much hunger as it was a necessity. Your appetite had been less than robust these past few days, your emotions weighing you down in more ways than one. You didnât have him to remind you to eat or sleep, or run like a normal human being.
Grabbing an apple to appease your stomach, you bit into it and looked around, mentally going over everything else you had to do that day. Start an essay you had due the next week, beg the members of your group to do their parts of the presentation that was worth a whopping thirty percent of your grade and polish the last scene you had written for your book.Â
It turned out that your turbulent emotional state had translated into you being more productive than ever, throwing yourself into your studies and writing like you had never before. Anything to avoid thinking about him and what you felt. An unhealthy coping mechanism for sure, but it worked for you.Â
Kind of.Â
Unable to stomach anything else, you tossed the core of the apple into a nearby dustbin and left the dining hall, eager to make it back to your room. You hadnât slept very well lately, and you wanted to get all your work out of the way before crashing. Sleeping, you discovered, was another excellent course of action to take when you wanted to avoid facing something, and at least it wasnât downright unhealthy. The dark circles under your eyes would certainly thank you.Â
When you turned the corner, he was there.
Caleb stood there, just a few paces away from you in all his six-two glory. His back was turned to you, but you knew it was him, deep in conversation with his friend, Gideon. You were unable to do anything but stare, your pulse picking up in speed at the sight of him. You wondered if the chasm he had created between the two of you had affected him as much as it had you.Â
When he bid farewell to Gideon and turned, you panicked. When he saw you, you remained rooted to the spot, watching as his steps faltered and came to a stop. He looked almost as tired as you felt, dawdling briefly before speaking.
âHey.âÂ
Hey. Hey? Was that all he could say after refusing to look your way for over a week? Your apprehension flared up into anger, and you took three furious steps towards him, your docile stare melting into a glare.Â
âYou sure talk a lot of shit about keeping you informed for someone who has been avoiding me.â
He winced. âI wasnâtâŠ.avoiding you.â
âOh really? Could have fooled me.â You scowled at him as you took another step forward. You were pissed, and rightly so, but it stemmed more from how hurt you felt rather than any genuine anger.Â
Caleb didnât bother to meet your eyes, opting to look off to the side instead. That stung a little more than you cared to admit. âIâm sorry,â he mumbled, shifting his weight from one foot to another. âHave you eaten yet?â Barely five minutes around you, and he had already jumped into trying to take care of you. It was so infuriatingly like him.Â
Every time he didnât want to face something, he would deflect and redirect the conversation. Your years together had taught you well, making it impossible for him to sidestep you even if he tried. You could tell he was avoiding you even when you were right in front of him.Â
âStop changing the subject.â
You watched as his jaw tightened and relaxed, something he did when he was conflicted. All his tells were so laughably obvious to you, and yet you couldnât make heads or tails of how he was acting right now, so forcibly distant and detached, like being close to you was painful. Your eyes burned.
âDo you hate me?â You asked, hating how your voice suddenly sounded so feeble. His eyes snapped back to yours, wide and defiant.Â
âI could never hate you.â The finality in the way he said it told you he was telling the truth, and yet, you couldnât help but fall victim to the doubt creeping into your mind. He was looking right at you nowâ except he wasnât really. It was more like he was looking through you.Â
âThenâŠthen why?â You whispered, taking another tentative step forward. The space that both of you created, consciously or not, was unbearable. You just wanted things to go back to normal, was that so much to ask for?
âI donât hate you. You just donât understand.âÂ
âThen make me understand!â You threw your hands up in the air in exasperation, wondering what the hell you had to do to make this conversation go somewhere, because right now it just felt like you were running in circles. âCaleb, please, just tell me why youâre avoiding me, because you are.â
He knew he was and hadnât a single excuse, other than the reason he swore you never burdened you with. You were looking at him so pleadingly, grasping at straws to figure him out, but for the first time in his life, he found himself unable to give you an answer. Instead, his throat constricted, his anxiety keeping him silent.Â
âItâs my fault, isnât it?â Your face crumbled, and upon witnessing it, so did his heart. Your lower lip trembled like a leaf on a windy day, and you bit down on it to stop it from doing so, doing your best to stay composed. Running a hand through your hair, you let out a shaky sigh. âI knew it, I should have neverâ we shouldnât have slept together. That should have never happened and now everything is fucked up, and its all because of me.âÂ
Yes. No. The answer wasnât as straightforward as he needed it to be, and it paralysed him. The anguish you felt was on display for him and anyone who happened to walk by you to see, plain as day, as it twisted your features. It felt as if he had been stabbed in the gut when you backed away from him.
Turning away, you walked off. You had ruined things, you were sure of it, and it killed you. Once again, you let the rift between him and you grow with every step you took to escape the crash you had been responsible for.Â
A hand on your wrist. You gasped as he caught you, spinning you around and forcing you to face him once again.Â
Caleb had followed you into the gardens.Â
âDo you regret it?â
The question cut through you, and you gaped at him. The fervour you were so used to seeing in him suddenly returned, burning brightly in his eyes as he pinned you in place with them, his grip on your wrist never letting up. Question for question, with neither of you getting the answers you wanted.Â
You scoffed, rapidly blinking away the tears that you felt coming on. âIf it's the reason things are weird between us, then yes! I do regret it. I need my best friend, Caleb. I need you.âÂ
How could you not need him? He was your constant, the one person who had been by your side through thick and thin. You needed him in your life, by your side, in whatever way you were allowed to, even if it wasnât what you truly wanted anymore.Â
He let go of your wrist. âI canât do it.â
Your biggest fear was coming true right in front of your very eyes, and you hadnât the faintest idea of how to stop it. It was taking form, bleeding into existence. You were losing him.Â
âYou canât do what?â
âI canât be your friend. I just canât.â He shook his head, shutting his eyes like he couldnât bear to look at you.Â
Your voice comes out weak. Small. âBut you said weâll always be friends.â
âWell, I lied, okay! I canât be your friend, not whenââ He sucked in a breath, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to reign himself in, stopping his outburst before it could happen. It wasnât fair to you, none of this was, but he was at his breaking point. âI could do it before, but not anymore.â
âWhy?â You whispered, those tears you had so valiantly fought off surging back. Once again, you felt like you had been trampled on, pinned down by a merciless gravity that had no regard for your need to breathe. You werenât sure there was a reason to fight against it anymore.Â
He looked up at the darkening sky, deflating. Staying away from you hadnât made it any betterâ if anything, it had only made it worse, his yearning to be beside you bubbling to an all-time high. There wasnât a point in hiding anymore, not when it was turning out to be detrimental rather than soothing.Â
âBecause,â he paused, peering up at the cloudy sky. He couldnât see the stars. âI canât go back to being your friend when Iâve tasted you. How am I supposed to act like Iâve never kissed you when Iâve had you in my bed? To pretend like I donât know how it feels to have you like that? God, Y/n, I canât do it.
Caleb, whom you had viewed as strong and untouchable all your life. Caleb, whom you had endlessly looked up to, sounded almost tortured, like it pained him to even have to tell you this.Â
âWhat are you saying?â
You hoped you didnât look as terrified as you sounded. It felt as if someone had pulled the rug out from beneath you, but the ground underneath it was falling apart too, leaving you to stumble around and try to find your footing amidst the cracks that remained. If you fell now, you werenât sure youâd ever be able to get up.
But that was the thing, wasnât it? You had already fallen, and hard.Â
Caleb was stripped of his usual self-assuredness and confident smile. He was laid bare there in front of you, fixing you with a look that was so pained it tore through you.Â
âIâm in love with you.â
The confession ripped through you, although you didnât register it at first. Those five words felt so improbable to have been said by him to you of all people that the only thing you could feel was disbelief. It just didnât make sense. Why would something you longed to hear so badly be said with such sadness?Â
He mistook your stunned silence for aversion. He should have stopped there, given up and walked away, but now that he had finally, finally let it out, it was hard to stop. It was like a dam had broken within him; everything he had ever kept to himself when it came to you rushed out all at once.Â
âIâm in love with you, Y/n,â he said again, scoffing slightly at himself. No nicknames, just your name spoken in that reverent tone, like you were a divine being he was a devout follower of. âAnd it kills me because I know youâll never see me as anything more than a best friend. Youâve made that very clear, and I never want to overstep, so I stayed away from you.âÂ
âCalebââ
He didnât let you cut in. âI could do it when I didnât know what it felt like to have you as something more than friends. The moment we crossed that line, it was all over for me. I would be your friend until I died if I didnât know.â His hands were shaking, but they stayed by his sides, fingers curled into frustrated fists as he rambled.Â
âIââ
âBut I canât, Pips. I canât do it anymore. I canât be your best friend when Iâve loved you my entire life.â And youâre falling all over again, gravity pulling you down, down, down as something unfurled in your chest. âSo please justââ
âGoddamnit Caleb, would you just shut up for one fucking minute!?â
You hadnât meant to snap, but he was seriously to piss you off, going on and on without giving you the chance to speak your mind. Immediately, he clamped his mouth shut, preparing himself for the inevitable rejection he had imagined too many times to count in his head. You, on the other hand, thought you were going to faint, overwhelmed by everything that had just happened. It was everything you had convinced yourself was impossible.
And yetâŠ
You kept your eyes locked onto his as you closed the distance between the two of you, so close now that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him, combating the chill in the evening air. Swallowing, you asked.Â
âYouâre in love with me?â
He clenched his jaw and nodded. He knew what the consequences were, he was ready for them. It was about time he faced the truth anyway.Â
What he didnât expect was for you to start laughing.Â
You clamped a hand over your mouth as incredulous laughter left you, eyes practically sparkling. Oddly enough, it sounded a little watery, like you were crying at the same time.
And then he realised you were, in fact, crying, tears streaming down your face. Alarmed, he stepped forward and cupped your face, instinctively wiping them away with the pads of his thumbs. This did nothing to dampen your hysterical laughter as you leaned into his touch.Â
âWhat the fuck?â He muttered, concern overtaking his previous, heartsick expression. âAre you dying or something?â
âOr something,â you managed to get out, gripping his arms, âWeâre so stupid.â
âThatâŠ..okay, Iâm officially confused. And a little scared.âÂ
âCaleb,â you whispered once you stopped giggling, lethally soft. You looked up at him adoringly, eyes shining and tinged slightly red from your tears. âIâm in love with you, too.â
He froze, mouth falling open. He didnât have to say anything, though, because honestly, he had said enough. It was your turn now.Â
You leaned further into his touch, nuzzling your cheek against his palm. âI think Iâve loved you for a long time, but I only realised afterâŠ.after everything that happened between us.â You flushed, trying to word it as delicately as possible. âAnd I drove myself crazy because I thought youâd never see me that wayââ
âIâve always seen you that way.â He breathed out, those captivating eyes of his trained on you in wonder. Butterflies came to life in your stomach.Â
ââ So I called it off. I said we needed to stop because I was so scared Iâd lose you.â
By the time you finished, you were both staring at each other wide-eyed. His grip on you tightened, one hand falling to your waist as he tugged you closer.Â
âYou love me?â
âI love you,â you nodded. âIt just took me a while to figure it out.âÂ
âPipsqueak.â You had never been more grateful than you were right then to hear that stupid petname. âOh my god, we are stupid.â
Without another word, Caleb pulled you into a kiss. You reciprocated instantly, wrapping your arms around his neck as you smiled against his lips, unable to contain yourself anymore. He kissed you like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do, holding you like you were precious, which to him, you undoubtedly were. It was your first proper kiss with him without any pretence or excuse surrounding it, and you couldnât have asked for more.Â
Chuckling when you dissolved into more giddy giggles, he wiped away any stray tears from your face and rested his forehead against yours. After all these years waiting and hoping that youâd feel the same way, he knew heâd never let you go now.Â
âI love you, too.â It was a relief to say out loud and to your face, coming out of hiding and letting the truth of his feelings sit out in the light. You pecked his lips again and hugged him, revelling in his warmth and the delight of your feelings being returned. Your best friend loved you back, and everything in the world made sense again.Â
âDonât be my best friend,â You mumbled fondly, cheek against his shoulder as you laid out your final request. âJust be mine.â
He smiled, an expression so dazzling youâd never forget it. âIâll always be yours.â
When Caleb looked back at the sky, he could see the stars.
âAre you done?â
âShh.â
You rolled your eyes, flopping onto the pile of plushes on your bed as you pulled out your phone and went through your messages. To be fair, it had barely been two minutes since you handed him your laptop, but you were impatient, wanting to know what he thought as soon as possible.
Calebâs eyes were focused on the screen as he read, humming occasionally as he scrolled through the scene. If anyone had told you a year ago that youâd be letting him read a part of your writing, let alone a sex scene of all things, you would have either laughed in their face or had a mental breakdown.
Yet here you were. Life sure had a sense of humour.Â
Finally, after an agonising ten minutes, he spoke. âWow.â
âIs it good?â
He shut your laptop and put it back on your desk carefully, before walking over to where you were. Then, he dropped himself onto the bed as well, purposely caging you in his arms and making sure you were trapped under his weight. Squealing, you hit his arm playfully.Â
âCaleb!â
Your boyfriend laughed mischievously, lifting his head so you could see the smirk that curled on his lips. âIt was good. Very good.â
You sighed in relief. âThank god.â
âSo I must be really good in bed, huh?âÂ
There it was. You groaned as you tried to push him off of you, even though you knew it was a futile task. âDonât even try, you smug asshole.â
âWhat?â He asked, dripping in faux innocence. âI mean, you did use me for research purposes. Is it not a fair assumption to make?â He was so proud of it, and knew damn well that the entire sex scene he had just read had been falicitated because of him. Every part of it had been pulled from things the two of you had done, the thought of which made your skin heat up and your cheeks burn.Â
âYouâre so annoying,â you huffed, giving up on trying to get him to stop squashing you. Instead, you adjusted, curling into him. Accepting this, he switched your positions, pulling you on top of him and resting his chin on your shoulder.
âYou like it.â
âUnfortunately.â
You yelped when he pinched your side, but it dissolved into giggles when he began peppering kisses all over your face. Slipping his arm around your waist, he held you close, grining against your skin. If you had to stay like this forever, in his arms and under the glow of his radiant smile, you would be content.Â
âYouâre an amazing writer, Pipsqueak,â he cradled your face in his hands, his love for you so achingly obvious in the way he looked at you that you wondered how you had never noticed it before. Rubbing his fingers against your cheek, he kissed your nose. âIt would be just as great even if I hadnâtâ uhâ assisted.â
Though you snickered at him, you couldnât stop yourself from beaming at his praise for your work. âIâm glad you did though,â you let him pull you closer, arm looping around your waist as you propped a leg over his. âOtherwise we might have never figured our shit out.â
He snorted. âThank god for research. You would have kept me in the friendzone forever.â
âHey!â
He silenced any further protests that you could have made, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. All possible complaints fled your mind the moment he did, eagerly kissing him back. You didnât think youâd ever get enough of this and you had no idea how you had survived for so long while denying yourself of it.Â
Caleb had loved you for twelve years, steadily standing by your side and holding your hand even when you couldnât see it. He had walked beside you through it all, the highest of highs and lowest of lows, lifting you up high over his shoulders with a grin on his face. He would never leave you behind, because he was your home. The one you had grown up with and wanted to wake up to everyday for the rest of your life.Â
He had taught you love without imposing it on you, silently showing it to you with every little thing he did. Your best friend. Your love. It had taken you a long time to catch up, but when you finally made it to the finish line, you found him waiting there for you patiently, holding out his hand for you to take.Â
The next time Tara called him your boyfriend, you didnât correct her.
fin.
#love and deepspace#caleb love and deepspace#caleb x reader#lads x reader#love and deepspace x reader#caleb smut#caleb fluff#lads fluff#lads smut#love and deepspace smut#caleb x reader smut#lads caleb#caleb x mc#caleb x y/n
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ânever is a promiseâ | 12.4k
old man!logan x f!reader

SUMMARY: You are everything Logan isnât: sweet, trouble-free, much youngerâand, to top it off, Charles' caregiver.
WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ mentions of drinking. angst. some fluff. old man!logan x caregiver!reader. implied age gap (readerâs in her twenties). miscommunication. slow burn. pining. reader is shorter than logan and has long hair. charles in his cupid era. petnames. minor injuries. wound tending. mentions of blood. virgin!reader. dirty talk. cum shots. fingering. handjobs. oral sex (m receiving). loving sex. sex with a lot of feelings (is that a tag?). unprotected p in v.
A/N: i just want to fall in love with him. thatâs it. thatâs the reason why i wrote this long ass fic đ while doing so, i had ânever is a promiseâ by fiona apple and âcool about itâ by boygenius on repeat. give them a try if you havenât listened to them (your lives will be CHANGED) (also, thank you for reading <3)
No matter how often you play chess with Charles, you never manage to beat him.Â
âYouâve been staring at that knight for five minutes. Itâs not going anywhere, I promise.â
Chuckling at his sarcasm, you fold your hands in your lap, lifting your eyebrows in mock surrender. âOkay, I get it. Youâre the master of chess,â leaning back in the chair, you cross one leg over the other. âCan we play something else?â
âIâm quite entertained, thank you,â Charles says, sliding the board closer to you across the table. âYour turn.â
âHow is it that you donât get tired of this game?â you mutter under your breath, eyes fixed on the board as you weigh your options, hovering your hand indecisively over the chess pieces.Â
âPlease do something before Iâm forced to make a dash for the toilet.â He hangs his head, pinching the bridge of his noseâa telltale sign of one of his irritable days.
His words spur you into action, encouraging you to finally slide the knight into position. You glance up, meeting his gaze with a hint of challenge. âYou go now.â
Charles doesnât hesitate, and he moves a bishop. âCheck.â
Fuck. You hadnât seen that coming. âIâd prefer to walk away with my pride,â you joke, pushing your chair back and pretending to lose interest in the board.
That makes him smirk, a barely there grin dangling on the corners of his wrinkled lips. The truth is, you wouldnât stop playing for anything in the worldânot even if this old man kicks your ass every single time he suggests playing chess. âYouâre not out of the game yet.â
Quietness settles over the tank while you allow yourself some time to come up with a new strategy. After a moment, you decide to go for a pawn, using it to block his bishop.
He doesnât stop grinning, studying your move with an amused glint in his blue eyes. âNot bad, but youâve left your king exposed.â
You gape at the board, your fragile confidence faltering for a split second. "I still have some pieces in play."
Charles nods, his brows drawing together in thoughtful consideration. "True. But sometimes, itâs not about how many pieces you have leftââ He reaches out, carefully sliding his queen across the board. "Itâs about where you place them.â He relaxes, hunching over, his eyes searching for yours. A smile thatâs all teeth welcomes you. âCheckmate."
âDamn.â You blow out your cheeks, your gaze tracing the path of his queen. Somehow, heâs trapped your king with no easy way out.
He leans back with a satisfied grin. âThatâs three games in a row. My suggestion is that you start rethinking your strategy.â
âOr maybe youâre just a better player,â you admit, a mix of frustration and admiration palpable in your tone. âNo more chess for today, though.â You stand up from your seat, gathering the board and chess pieces. As usual, they find their place under Charlesâ bed, and you turn back to him, beaming with delight. âI think you owe me one after all this.â
âYouâre a terrible loser, my dear,â he says, his eyes twinkling as they take you in. âReminds me of someone I know.â
At that exact moment, you hear the familiar creak of the tankâs door opening, followed by a cough you immediately recognize.
Without thinking, you straighten your back as Logan steps into the room. Charles notices it, but says nothing in return.
It was an infatuationâor at least, thatâs what you try to convince yourself of. Logan is a very good-looking man, probably the most handsome youâve ever laid eyes on.
The fact that you live with him doesnât help at all. You think that if you only saw him occasionally, thisâthis anxiety that grips you whenever heâs around or when you hear his voiceâwouldnât happen in the first place.
Whether itâs good or bad luck, youâve been sleeping under the same roof as him for over a year, and the crush youâve had since the first time you exchanged words with him only seems to grow stronger with each passing day.
What you figure out over time is that men like Logan arenât the dating type. Heâs never brought anyone home, and for that, youâre secretly grateful. The last thing you need is to see him with another womanâthank you very much. Still, the thought gnaws at you: he could easily be meeting someone elsewhere.
In fact, itâs more than likely that heâs hooking up with other people. It doesnât have to be atâ
Alright. You donât need this either.
Loganâs heavy footsteps resonate even louder, his presence more imposing, and he seems especially pissed off. Then again, he always has that demeanorâangry, grumpy, locked in a constant battle with life.
But today⊠today, you havenât seen him this troubled in weeks.
âLook whoâs joined us,â Charles mumbles, steering his motorized chair to meet him halfway. The chair bumps against Loganâs legs with a thud that sounds almost cartoonish, and Charles scrunches up his nose, his nostrils flaring in disgust. âYou smell like shit.â
âYeah, I missed you too, Pop,â Logan grunts, shoving his hand into the pocket of his suit, searching for something. Thatâs when you notice the bloodstains on his shirt, smeared across his chest, and the missing buttons at the top. Your breath catches in your throat, and you bite your tongue to keep from asking any foolish questions. âThey gave me new ones,â he mutters, looking you in the eye as he tosses the pill bottle at you.
You leap forward to catch it mid-air, your heart skipping a beat. Logan holds your gaze for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before giving a slight nod and turning on his heel to storm out of the tank.
When your attention goes back to Charles, you see how his eyes remain locked on the pills youâre holding, his head lowering in defeat. âHeâs waiting for me to die.â
âDonât say that.â You squat to be at his eye level, momentarily hiding the meds from his view. Still, you struggle to make him shift his gaze. âHeâs taking care of you, which is something completely different.â You place your hand on top of his knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Youâve had this same conversation innumerable times, yet each time feels like the first. He offers you a melancholic but knowing look as you softly say: âYou have to take them, Charles. Iâm sorry.â
He raises a hand, his trembling fingers curling around your wrist, examining you, trying to find an answer in the lines. âDonât be. At least youâre here.â
âIâm sure Loganâs tired; thatâs why he doesnât stay any longer. Havenât you seen him?â You rise to your feet, moving behind him to guide his chair. The tank sort of has a chill in the air, metallic walls that seem to press in around you both. âBesides, you wouldnât want to play chess with him. Rest assured Iâll always let you win,â you murmur next to his ear, succeeding in eliciting a chuckle from him.
After that, you help him with his daily routine. Charles isnât heavy, and you manage to get him onto the bed, his frail body yielding to your gentle support.
You slip the rest of his body beneath the blankets, tucking him in carefully before handing him two pills and a glass of water. âAll the way down, okay? And I wanna see that tongue after you swallow them.â
If looks could kill, youâd be six feet under, covered in dust and dirt. Charles sticks his tongue out, putting the glass down on his nightstand. âHappy?â
âYouâve got no idea how much,â you say, adjusting the covers. The silence of the tank surrounds you both, and you can sense his gaze lingering on you. You flick your eyes up, furrowing your brows as you sit in the small space beside him on the mattress. âWhat is it?â
âYou fancy him, donât you?â
Freezing on the spot, your eyes narrow. âIâI donâtââ you trail off, pushing the words out with some effort. âAre you trying to read my mind?â
His whole chest rumbles with laughter under your touch. He finds your hand once again, intertwining your fingers with his. âDonât be so naĂŻve. I donât need my abilities to see the way you get all flustered when he passes by. Why do you think they say older people are wiser?â he inquires, his lips forming a straight line. âWeâve lived too much not to notice the most common things, my dearâand let me tell you that you do a horrible job at pretending.â
âOf course I like him. Loganâs a good man, he keeps us safe.â You glance down at your handsâhis, weak and delicate, in evident contrast to your own. âIâm not in love with him, Cupid.â
âOh, you shouldâve seen him years ago,â Charles says, his eyes glazing over as he drifts back into the past. His body remains here, within the confines of the room, but his mind is elsewhere, somewhere far away. You give his hand a gentle tug, trying to bring him back. âWhen we took him in, he was pursuing a career as a cage fighter. I had never seen anyone like him in all my years of educating mutants. He was so⊠different from the rest. Reserved, didnât talk much at first. But I gave him a family, Iââ His voice falters, overcome by his own emotions.Â
Thatâs when you realize heâs no longer with you, his gaze unfocused, looking around the tank as if seeing it for the first time. It pains you to see him like this, completely disoriented and disconnected from reality.
âWhy are we here? What has happened to the rest? Has he told you anything?â
These are the questions he asks every day without failâquestions that you canât, nor want, to answer. Since youâre not exactly sure the explanation would soothe his troubled mind, you feel forced to play dumb.
âI donât know, Charles. We donât really talk that much, Logan and I.â You stand from the bed, not without pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead before. You smile at him, hoping he doesnât realize the gesture lacks authenticity. âWhy donât you get some rest? Iâll let you know if I hear anything worth sharing.â
Once you close the door behind you, you settle back into it, releasing a shaky breath. Being Charlesâ caregiver was a challenging task, especially in moments like these, which required immense internal strength not to crumble in front of him.
You squeeze your eyes shut as you adjust to the harsh sunlight, fighting to regain your composure. When you finally scan the area, the only thing that meets your eye is the deserted smelting plant you now call home.
You open the sliding door, the noise breaking the stillness and forcing Logan to look up from his plate. Heâs eating like a starved man, casually drinking from a small bottle of whisky on the table, already half of it gone. After those long drives through the nights and the early hours, he always returns hungry.
You pour yourself a cup of coffee, setting it on the stove to heat. Neither of you says anything for a few minutes: he eats, and you sip your hot coffee in silence, not wishing to disturb the breakable peace that hangs by a thread.
Thinking this is how the noon will continue, you begin to walk toward your room until he clears his throat, stopping you in your tracks. That simple gesture makes you whirl around, anticipating something.
âThis is delicious,â he acknowledges, pointing to his plate with his fork, the rice with veggies and meat you cooked last night nearly gone. Dipping his chin, he adds in a low voice: âThank you.â
Youâre taken aback by his unexpected willingness to engage in conversation. Moments like these are as rare as seeing Halleyâs Comet, so you proceed with caution, as if youâre approaching a skittish animalâone wrong move, and the opportunity is lost.
Setting your mug down on the table, you sit on the chair opposite him. Deep down, the hammering of your heart echoes in your ears, and you hope his sharp senses donât pick up on it.
âIâm glad you liked it. Charles ate two bowls of it,â you explain, unable to suppress a smile. Logan hums, tilting his head to the side as he keeps devouring his meal. You take another sip of your coffee, blowing on it in a futile attempt to cool it down. âHe wants to talk to you.â
âHuh?â
âCharles. Heâhe asks to see you a lot,â you begin, carefully choosing your words. âI know itâs none of my business, but I think it would make him feel better if you spent more time with him.â
The sound of a distant train rumbles through the walls, amplifying the silence between you. Logan doesnât utter a word; instead, he puts down his fork, the clinking noise making you jump slightly, the intensity of his stare becoming overwhelming.
âYouâre right about one thingâwhat I do or donât do is none of your goddamn business.â
Just like that, the buildup dissolves in a matter of seconds. You bite down on the inside of your cheek, nodding absentmindedly. âIâm sorry,â you murmur, feeling a wave of shame wash over you. How stupid were you to think he might want to talk to you? âI justâI want to be of help.â
âJust take care of Charles. Thatâs all you gotta worry about, all Iâve ever asked you to do,â he barks, clenching his jaw, and you can tell he means each word.
When he talks to you in this tone, it makes you think more rationallyâit reminds you that you donât really know him, and yet you agreed to work for him in exchange for a roof over your head and food on your plate. Heâs not your friend, and heâs excellent at making that crystal clear every time you cross the line.
Logan pushes you away like youâre nothing, like youâre just another of the many burdens he has to deal with.
It should be enough to send you running to your room, but despite the knot tightening in your belly, you somehow remain rooted in place, your eyes sharp like daggers.
As another train echoes in the silence, you come to terms with the knowledge that one more question will drive him away.
And sometimes, you speak before you think, as you do now: âWhose blood is that on your shirt?â you ask, voice steady and cold. Perhaps itâs you who wants him to leave this time.
He shakes his head with offense, frustration crinkling his eyes. âI donât need this shit,â he groans, his gruff voice loud enough for you to hear it. He gets up from the table, placing his plate in the sink without much delicacy. At last, he heads to his room, slamming the door with a deafening thud that reverberates through the entire place.
Itâs not a crush, that voice deep inside you insists as youâre left alone in the kitchen. And itâs valid: a mere crush wouldn't cause this kind of pain, wouldnât make your chest feel this heavy and your limbs numb.
Whenever he leaves, he takes a part of you with him, never to be returned. By now, youâre certain heâs stolen all those missing pieces from you, and youâve got no idea how much longer you can endure before you shatter completely.
You seem to have won this battle, but what you end up losing is far greater than any fleeting gratification.
Loving Logan is maddening, to say the least.
To this day, you still recall every detail of the night that altered the course of your lifeâthe night you met Logan.
The memories are rather vivid in your mind, and you revisit that moment on nights like these, when you canât sleep and the past appears to be much more appealing than your present.
Pressing your cheek against the cold pillow, you let your eyelids drop, reconstructing the full scene behind your sealed eyes.
It was your third week working at that restaurant, and you were still getting used to its daily rhythm. Waitressing was working wonders for youâyou had a good memory, and people often gave you generous tips.
Everything was going well: you were the only waitress on shift, and your boss had left for a brief errand, promising he would be back soon.
During this lull, a group of men entered the restaurant, already drunk or highâprobably both. They sat at one of the empty tables, immediately calling for you.
One of them, a tall blonde, was the loudest. âCome here, baby.â He pointed his finger at you, gesturing for you to approach him. The nickname felt wrong rolling off his tongue, and as you obliged, he shoved a handful of bills into the front pocket of your apron. He clutched your waist, dragging you nearer. âIâm getting married tomorrow. Think you can do something special for me?â
His friends cheered him on, laughing and pounding their fists on the table. You managed to slip from his grasp and asked them what they wanted to order.
While they took their time deciding, you noticed a limousine parked in the distance, probably the vehicle that had brought these morons here. The driver rolled down his window, hanging his arm from the armrest.
Though you couldnât see his features, the interaction alone was enough to make you look away.
An hour went by, and the men refused to take off. Theyâd eaten, drunk, and dancedâand driven you crazy in the process. The rest of the customers had decided to leave once they realized the night was far from finishing for the noisy group of friends. You apologized, feeling incapable of doing anything to change the situation.
Your sanity felt threatened as you turned off the TV, ending the sixth round of karaoke, their shouts and hoots ringing in your ears.
âWeâre closing in ten minutes,â you informed them, starting to collect their dirty plates and glasses. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the blonde man standing right beside you, his piercing blue eyes burning holes through your skin. He attempted to graze your shoulder, but you quickly stepped back, keeping a safe distance between you. âHow do you plan to pay? Cash or credit?â
âHow about with a kiss, huh?â He inched forward, his face dangerously close to yours. Unaccustomed to being approached in this manner, you ducked your head, unsure of your next move. His breath reeked of beer and vodka, a horrendous combination that had you nearly gagging on the spot.
As he backed you against the counter, one of his large hands cradled your face, urging you to make eye contact with him. âI swear I can be very, very nice. You havenât given me the chance to show it yet.â
âHey, pal. You said one hour.â
The first time you heard his voiceâlow and husky, the kind that could send shivers down your spine.
Your eyes locked with Loganâs, your pleading gaze seemingly stirring something in him as he got a grip on the situation. His brows bumped together in a scowl, and you didnât miss how he limped as he made his way into the restaurant.
There was something about himâhow he moved, his stanceâthat felt strangely familiar.
âWeâre busy in here, chauffeur,â the blue-eyed man protested, slightly losing his balance while still holding your cheek.
Your rescuer squared off against him, their noses practically brushing. He worked his jaw, his half-lidded, tired eyes taking in the sight of you. âIâm no fortune-teller, but I donât think sheâs into you, bub.â
âCome again?â the blonde guy released you, much more concerned with defending his bruised pride. âWhatâs the matter, Grandpa? Is it past your bedtime?â
âI want you to pay me for the ride, and for waiting a fucking hour and a half for you and your friends,â the older man spat, jerking his thumb toward the limousine. âIâm not taking you back to the hotel. You might want to start lookingâ for another driver.â
The group of men closed in around him, their anger bubbling. âThatâs not cool, dude. We had a deal,â another voice snapped, but Logan couldnât seem to care less.
âWell, the dealâs off. And leave the girl alone, will you?â he retorted, his tone dripping with disdain. âSo, whereâs my money?â
He couldnât have predicted it. One of the men behind him swung a plate, striking him in the nape and catching him off guard. Logan collapsed to the floor, clutching his head in pain. The others took the opportunity and began to pummel him, kicks and punches landing wherever they could.
You screamed at the top of your lungs, desperately trying to intervene. You grabbed at their clothes, digging your fingernails into every patch of exposed skin you could find, but they shoved you aside with brutal force. Your back slammed against the nearest wall, a jolt of sudden pain making you wince.
The blood in your veins turned to ice as you watched, paralyzed with fear that they might kill him. But thenâ
Three metallic claws emerged from his knuckles, and he used them to push himself upright. Despite the blood smeared across his nose and mouth, he managed to stand, his quickened breathing coming out in short puffs.
The men backed away in shock, leaving him alone amidst the chaos.Â
You stared at him, your hands trembling as recognition dawned: it was The Wolverine.
The familiarity, the sense of having seen him before, all made sense now. It all flooded back in a rushâthe comics, the news, the rumors.
âGet the hell outta my sight,â he growled, pressing his claws against the fabric of the blue-eyed manâs jacket, making him flinch.
You couldnât make out what you were feeling. It wasnât fear, but intrigue. Even as the group of men fled the restaurant, you couldnât tear your eyes away from him. At first, he avoided your gaze, focusing on his shoes as he retracted his claws.
Once the immediate danger had passed, he slumped forward, groaning. You gently draped one of his arms around your shoulders and helped him into a nearby chair. His weight felt like a thousand bricks, but you accomplished to get him seated.
He rubbed a shaky hand over his graying beard, his face twisting in pain as you pressed a makeshift towel of napkins against his lower lip, where blood continued to flow.
Taking the towel from you, he continued tending to himself. You scanned his features, scrutinizing him.
âYou areâŠâ you began, the words feeling inadequate at the moment.
Logan nodded hesitantly, his silence confirming your suspicion. âYeah, thatâs me,â he tugged at his shirt collar, exposing some of his chest hair, fresh blood staining his work clothes. Your gaze fell there, and you quickly chided yourself.
The poor guy was bleeding, and you were checking him out. Jeez.
Kneeling by his side, you introduced yourself. âThank you for stepping up for me,â you said afterward, and he shook his head dismissively. âThey were a pain in the ass. I donât know how you even managed to drive them here.â
âMoneyâs money, darlinâ. Doesnât matter where it comes from, as long asââ he was interrupted by a coughing fit, and your concern deepened as you continued to spot more of his injuries. âIâll heal,â he reassured you, his expression softening in an attempt to calm your anxiety.
Your eyes pierced his with an intensity that seemed to unsettle him. Warmth crept into your cheeks as a question surfaced in your mind: âIs there anything I can do for you?â
âYou donât owe me anything, kid,â he replied, a hint of gruffness in his voice.
âBut I could help you,â you persisted, your voice betraying a touch of eagerness. Stifling a cough, you tried to mask your enthusiasm, and sighed. âAre you hungry? I could cook you something, or pour you a drink. Weâve got plenty of liquorââ
Logan interrupted you, placing the towel down on the table. âHave you ever taken care of an old person?âÂ
Tilting your head, you considered his question. âHow old?â
âNinety-somethinâ.â
You nodded, memories of the events from years ago surfacing. âI lived with my grandparents for most of my life. When they fell ill, I spent a lot of time with them. My mom had to work long hours, and Iâwell, the point is, I did take care of them,â you paused for an instant, his expression unreadable, though you perceived a slight relaxation in his posture, as if your answer had put him at ease. âI like being around old people. They have stories to tell,â you added, a genuine smile breaking through, âand Iâm a good listener.â
âThen I suppose there is somethinâ you can help me with.â
And so began a new chapter in your life.
The very next day, you were moving in with him and Charles. It took several weeks for the latter to warm up to you and get used to your presence.
Initially, he was hopeful that you might also be a mutant, but his disappointment was palpable when he discovered you lacked any supernatural gifts. Leaving that aside, he valued your company.
âThe shots mellow the seizures. The pills keep them from happening,â Logan had once explained, detailing the medications Charles needed. You recalled the psychic attack from a year ago and its consequences, but that wasnât a topic to be discussed with Logan, and you understood why.
âWhere do you get these?â you asked, examining the bottle of pills with a curious glance. âWithout a prescription, I mean.â
âOh, you donât wanna know.â
Soon, you got adapted to the whole package: his unpredictable temperament, his mood swings, and his nightmares. Logan Howlett was a puzzle box of surprises, one you could never quite unlock.
Fast forward to the present day, you realize it must be already late, because Loganâs heading to work. You stand on your tiptoes, peering out of your bedroom window. Your humid breath fogs the glass as his eyes find yours, and then he slips into the vehicle, blending into the shadows of the night.
The distant rumble of his limousine signals his departure, your forehead pressed against the glass, as if somehow that could take you with him.
There goes another piece of you.
You find yourself shaving Charles the moment worry takes over your senses.
Heâs retelling a familiar story: that one time Logan, Scott, Jean, and Storm saved Rogue from Magneto.
On any other day, you wouldnât mind listening to his stories, despite having heard them countless times. This one in particular is your favorite.
But today, itâs hard to focus on it, even more when one of its main characters is missing in action.
Logan hasnât come back home yet.
Itâs been an entire day, and heâs usually back by morning to rest. Now, after having cooked dinner and helping Charles shower, youâve run out of distractions. Thereâs nothing left to occupy your thoughts, nothing to ease the building anxiety gnawing at you.
You texted him multiple timesâno answer. You even calledâalso nothing. Every time Charles asks if Loganâs at work or sleeping, the knot in your chest tightens. Thatâs when your mind starts to spiral, and youâre convinced youâll burst any moment.
After putting him to bed, you pace the kitchen, picking at your nails and biting the raw skin around them. The sting of pain is there, but itâs faint, not enough to overshadow the real fear clawing at your insides.
All these what-ifs that storm through your mind make you feel nauseous: what if heâs dead? What would you do with Charles? How would you provide for both of you without a salary?
Just as youâre about to dial his number again, Logan materializes out of thin air through the sliding door.
Heâs got a dark bruise under his right eye, and his once-white shirt is littered with bloodstains. You stare at himâheâs limping harder than usual, each of his movements slower.
Walking towards him, your hands cup his face. His skin feels rough beneath your fingers, and he lets out a grunt as you graze his split lip. âWhat happened?â
âThey were followinâ me. Had been doinâ so for a few days now,â he says, making no effort to pull away.
âDid you kill them?â you wonder out loud, still inspecting his injuries. The pad of your thumb hovers inches away from his bruised mouth.
Covering your hands with his, Logan ducks his head, closing his eyes for a brief second and swallowing thickly. âSomebody had to do it, sweetheart.â
You limit yourself to a nod, because you know thereâs nothing you can reproach him for. You were no stranger to the idea of him killing. It was an implicit truth between you.
âI thoughtâI was so scared, and Iââ your voice wavers, and you feel your eyes watering, the tears prickling at the corners. âI thought youââ
He doesnât let you finish, already knowing how it would end. âHey, look at me,â heâs the one touching you now, tilting your chin up. Your eyes keep flickering over the cuts and old scars you spot on his cheeks, his neck. Logan forces a pained smile, unable to hide his discomfort. âItâs fine, Iâm alright. Just a bit fucked up, but nothinâ you havenât seen before,â he jokes, trying to lighten the mood, and it works. You bite your lower lip, suppressing your grin. âI always come back, donât I?â
âBut you can barely stand,â you whisper, not sure why youâre speaking so softly. You make him turn his back to you, helping him shrug off his coat. As expected, remnants of dried blood decorate his shirt like highlights. âLet me help you.âÂ
âI donâtââ
âThere are cuts all over your back. And your chestâyouâre not healing properly,â you say, turning him to face you again. The look on his face suggests only one thing: heâs about to throw in the towel. âYou donât have to do everything on your own.â You think youâve never been this close before, his proximity both intoxicating and comforting at the same time. âPlease.â
He ends up giving in to your persuasion, allowing you to guide him to the bathroom. Logan sits down on the toilet, watching you gather supplies to clean his wounds. When you come back, heâs still staring at you, his eyelashes fluttering together each time he blinks.
Starting with his cheek, you press a damp towel to his skin, and he hisses. It takes everything in you not to flinch in sympathy.
âHowâs Charles?â he asks, probably trying to distract himself as you continue to clean his wounds, the towel darkening with his blood over time.Â
âHeâs doing great. Asked for you a lot, actually,â you take a look at his jaw, where one shallow cut is already starting to fade away thanks to his healing ability, something that never fails to amaze you.
Logan hums, tilting his head. âIâll check on him in the morning,â he murmurs, and you flash him a quick smile, finishing with his face. Heâs now free of dirt and blood, his brows furrowing as he pauses to collect his thoughts. âThe other day, when we talkedââ
You cut him off, turning to the sink as you rinse the towel, watching the water get red. âForget it.â
âNo, it wasnât okayâhow I acted,â he stands up from the toilet, and you feel his presence behind you, the alarm inside your head going off as the space between you shrinks. âI know you just want whatâs best for him. For us. Iâm sorry I was a jerk,â his voice comes out even huskier at this time of the night, sounding afraid of waking someone, even though itâs just the two of you here.
âApology accepted,â you swirl around to meet his gaze, only to find yourself nose-to-nose with him, and you lean back against the sink, your spine pressed into the cool surface.
Logan places his hands on both sides of the vanity, caging you with his body. Like the most beautiful tree, he stands tall in front of you, and you take a deep breath, getting drunk on his distinctive scent. âAre you⊠okay?â
You watch as he lowers his head, pursing his lips before muttering: âImma need you to do something more for me,â he says, almost pleading, and you canât avoid the amount of thoughts that rush into your mind.
Gone was your decency when you had to deal with him.
Thatâs when he looks up to find your eyes, his harsh expression evolving into a more vulnerable one. âHave you ever removed a bullet?â
If you thought listening to Loganâs nightmares was painful, nothing could have prepared you for the sounds he makes while you pull several bullets from his wounds.Â
He sits shirtless in front of you, grunting at each of your careful movements. As you remove one bullet lodged near his ribs, Logan practically yells, and you rest your cheek against his, desperate to ease his suffering.
âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry. Almost done,â you whisper into his ear, hoping your words might bring him some relief. He lets his head fall forward, resting it on your shoulder, trusting you enough to tend to his injuries, his thoughts drifting elsewhere.
It takes you half an hour to clean both his chest and back, but Logan doesnât complain. When youâre finished, he goes straight to his room, flopping onto his bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. You see the way his chest rises and falls rapidly, his breathing still labored.
You wish you could lie beside him, even just for a few minutes, but your last shred of self-control stops you from doing such a thing.
âGet some sleep,â you say leaning against the doorframe, your advice sounding more like a plea. He looks exhausted, dark circles sunken beneath his eyes.Â
Logan lets out a bitter laugh. âDo I look that bad?â
You roll your eyes at that, your fingers curling around the doorknob. Glancing back at him over your shoulder, you catch something in his lookâa glimmer of something you struggle to put into words, but you decide not to look further into it. âGood night, Logan.â
âGood night, darlinââand thank you,â he murmurs, holding your gaze until the door shuts between you.
Then you sprint to your room, gently closing the door before biting back a smile, replaying the last hour in your mind. How close to you he had been, how comfortable he seemed around you.
You hadnât just crossed linesâyouâd broken them. You almost pinch yourself to make sure you werenât dreaming.
Somehow, your racing mind calms down, and you fall asleep, one hand tucked beneath the pillow, the other resting against your chest.
Youâre a light sleeper. The sound of something shattering wakes you, leaving you startled and disoriented.
Dawn is just breaking, the first rays of sunlight slipping through your window. You sit up, pricking up your ears as you scratch the back of your head, listening attentively.
Loganâs voice filters into your roomâhe lets out a string of profanities, and you stifle a giggle, throwing off your covers and putting on a sweatshirt that matches your pajamas.
Barefoot, you walk down the hall, stopping at the kitchenâs entrance. Logan is kneeling beside the table, gathering the shards of a broken mug. It seems like heâs just gotten out of the shower, tiny droplets of water trailing down his neck.
âThat was my favorite one,â you say in a low voice, teasing him. His back muscles flex under the material of his shirt, and he turns to look at you, his expression a silent apology. âI take it youâre not using your glasses?â
âIâm gonna stop you right there.â Rising to his feet, he grunts, digging his fingers into his lower back with a grimace. âTheyâre called readers for a reason.â
You decide to let him have that one, grabbing a new mug from the shelf and handing it to him. He accepts it, thanking you, and fills it with freshly brewed coffee.
âWas it a nightmare?â you ask, watching as he sinks into the couch, spreading his thighs apart with a sigh while you take a seat at the table instead.
Logan gives a nod, sipping some of his coffee. âAt least I slept for a few hours.âÂ
âAre you really going to stay up? Itâs pretty early.â You stretch your arms over your head, a yawn escaping you before you can hold it back.
âWouldnât be the first time.â
You hesitate for a moment, but then comes your question: âCan I join you?â You prop your elbows on your knees, any trace of sleepiness now gone with the wind.
He squints his eyes, his unrelenting stare boring into you. âFeel free.â
So here you are, studying him as he drinks his coffee, his fingers wrapped tightly around the ceramic. There are so many things you want to ask himâabout how heâs feeling, if his wounds have healedâbut it seems youâve entered a silent staring contest without even knowing it.
Not that you mind him looking at youâyou just want to know the reason why.
You snort, and he arches a brow. âDo I have something on my face?â You decide to ask him, straightening your back.
âI guess I canât help but wonder why you agreed to all of this,â he says, setting the mug down with a soft clink. By this, you understand heâs referring to being Charlesâ caregiver and leaving your old job behind. âI meanâyou could be doing better things with your life. Why would you choose to do this?â
âI told you before: I wanted to help you,â you shrug, trying to keep your tone light even as your stomach tightens with nerves. You watch as Logan folds his arms, the muscles of his biceps becoming more visible. âPlus, I love being around Charles.
âI donât think people your age would be that interested in spending their days like this,â he says, and you toy with a lock of your hair, wrapping it around your finger.
âWell, good thing Iâm not like most people my age then.â
His silence hangs heavy in the air until he speaks again. âWhat do you mean by that?â
âYou know that feeling when life seems like a race? And you just have to keep up with certain things that everybody else is doing, or youâll be left behind?â You pause, the words falling more naturally than youâd expected.
Logan nods, making it seem like he understands what youâre trying to say. Whether he truly does it or not, you donât know.
âWhen my friends started going to parties, getting boyfriends⊠I couldnât. My family wouldnât let me. And even when I could, it felt like it wasnât really what I wanted.â
Inhaling sharply, you stop yourself. The conversation suddenly feels far too personal.
âYou never had a boyfriend?â He gets more comfortable on the couch, his voice gruff as he rubs his chin, waiting for a reply.
A familiar heat settles between your legs. âI went out with some guys, but it never led to anything serious,â you say, your cheeks getting warmer the more details you share with him. âI guess I wasnât the kind of girl they were looking for,â you add, not missing the way his lips twitch momentarily.
âHow could they not want you?â
âThey didnât think like you do.â
âThatâs because they were boys, not men,â he mutters, his gaze dropping to your hands before returning to your face. âDid they treat you right, those boys?â
Swallowing hard, you can hardly register the uncertainty in your own voice. âI mean⊠yes, I think they did. They were nice to me.â
There it isâthe faintest hint of a smirk dancing on his lips. âNice doesnât mean good, though.â
You dig your nails onto the table, your pulse quickening, trying to hide how affected you are by his words. âWhat is it that you want to know?â
âCome sit with me, doll.â
Doll. Doll. Doll. Inside your chest, your heart gallops, your legs trembling as you get off the table, moving closer to him.
Feeling lighter with every step you take, you plop down beside him, and Logan sits straighter, his knees almost bumping into yours.
You canât bring yourself to look at himâthis is happening, just like in your filthiest dreams.
His hand slides up to yours, not applying any sort of pressure. He scrutinizes your skin, bringing your hand to his lips, and he presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist.
It tickles, it burnsâit ignites a fire inside you, one you know you canât ignore. A gasp attempts to escape you, but you suppress it.
âDid you let them touch you?â he whispers, attaching his mouth to your neck, brushing the sensitive spot where your jaw and ear meet.
This time, you moan, any possible rational thoughts turning into putty, melting with the way heâs touching you. âLogan,â you purr his name, begging for something, anything heâs willing to give you. Your thighs, once shoved together, spread of their own accord, and you hear him click his tongue.
âI asked you something.â His teeth graze your pulse point, forcing you to close your eyes.
âI didnât. They wanted to, but IâI wouldnât let them,â you answer, and as if heâs rewarding you, his fingers begin to tug on the hem of your sweatshirt, rolling it up your body and over your head. He tosses it to the floor, admiring you.
âWhy?â
Goddamn.
âBecause I was waiting for the right guy,â you manage to get out, grasping his hand and positioning it on top of your right breast, encouraging him to go on with what he had started. His pupils widen further, and he squeezes your tit roughly, eliciting a moan from you. âI think Iâve found him.â
Logan scans your face, searching for any sign of repentance in your expression. âIâm going to hell for this,â he murmurs under his breath, his hard-on noticeable through his tented sweatpants. âLay down.â You obey his command, easing yourself onto the couch, and sinking into the cushions as he presses himself to your side.
He peppers your neck with kisses, playing with the waistband of your shorts. âIâm not gonna kiss you, but Iâll make you feel good. Just this time, âkay? And we donât talk about it.â
You accept his offer, knowing that youâll probably regret it in a couple of hours. Right now, it doesnât matter. You need his electrifying touch, his fingers, hisâ
With a swift motion, your shorts are yanked down your legs, and his calloused hands part your thighs even wider. A damp spot on your underwear sells you out, and his thumb rubs gentle circles over that area, causing you to lift your hips.
âSo this is what you look like when you touch yourself, huh?â He edges his fingers closer to your clit, his breath tickling your ear, and he dips his tongue into your collarbone. âI hear you all the fuckinâ time. Youâre not as quiet as you think.â
It should embarrass you, the fact that he has listened to you pleasuring yourself. But in a moment like this, it only succeeds in fuelling your desire. âPlease. You said youâd make me feel good.â
âAnd I will, but youâre greedy as hell,â he says, his movements more deliberate now. You feel hot all over as he pulls your panties to the side, exposing your glistening cunt.
Loganâs on the verge of drooling all over you, reaching for your folds and spreading your wetness. âMen arenât strong creatures, honey. Youâve got no idea how hard it is to hold back.â
âD-donât hold back,â you stutter, losing your composure when he returns to your clit, his fingers coated in your arousal while they flick your swollen bud. âOh, LoganâŠâ
âYou make the prettiest sounds,â he rasps, mouthing at your jaw, though as you try to kiss him, he slows his pace. âWhatâs wrong? Am I not giving you enough?â
âSorry. Iâm sorry,â you whisper, fascinated by how big his fingers look in comparison to your pussy. âIâm justââ
âNeedy, I know,â he finishes for you, and he picks up his merciless rhythm again. Heat pools in your lower abdomen, and you canât help but arch your back every time he teases you, grazing your entrance with his middle finger. âDonât get ahead of yourself.â
You dig your nails into his arm, relishing the way his body responds to your touch. He grinds his cock against your hip, his teeth nipping at the column of your neck. âI want to come. Please, make me come,â you sob, letting out a shaky breath.
A thin sheen of sweat covers your forehead, and Logan locks eyes with you after what feels like an eternity. âPlease, Lo.â
The nickname snaps something inside of him. His fingers circle your clit with a fervency you hadnât experienced before, your pleasure seemingly being his primary focus. âThe shit Iâd do for you.â
You warn him, telling him youâre closeâso so so closeâuntil the fire in your belly flares, and blood rushes to your ears. You collapse against him, holding his hand firmly against your core, hips jerking as you ride your orgasm.
The world narrows down to thisâthis moment, your most desired fantasy.
Logan holds you as you go limp in his arms, rubbing your clit ever so slightly, murmuring soft praises. âYâdid so good, sweetheart,â he whispers, planting a kiss on your temple, burying his nose in your hair. Youâre still out of breath, the pulsing between your parted legs persisting long after your release. âTold you you werenât quiet.â
A giggle bubbles up from your chest, his beard tickling you as he slides his hands up under your shirt, finding your nipples.
âIt was n-nice,â you tell him, your voice faltering the more he toys with your hardened peaks. Your skin heats up again, heart racing at the thought that he isnât done with you yet.
âJust nice?â One of his hands makes its way back into your pussy, ghosting his fingers over your hole, and he smirks when he feels you squirm. âYou surely know how to hurt a manâs pride.â
âI wasnâtâI didnât mean toââ You canât structure a proper sentence, not when heâs playing with you like this.
Logan rubs your arousal between his fingers, as though he wants you to see how slick you still are, even after coming. âAre you going to touch me again?â
He hums, feigning uncertainty. âWhat do you think, baby? Should I make you come with my fingers now?â
Itâs like a switch flips in your mind. He knows exactly how to make you beg and which buttons to push, using that power to his advantage. âYes, please. I want it,â you plead, intending to buck your hips into his touch, impatient for more.
âDo you fuck yourself with your fingers?âÂ
âSometimes, but I can never finishâOh my God.â He slips one finger inside you, causing you to curse, your voice barely above a whisper. You clench around the intrusion, your head falling back onto the cushions. âFuck me.â
âIn a minute.â He begins to thrust his finger in and out, gathering your juices every time he goes back to hammering that sweet spot in your interior. Soon, one finger becomes two, and he reduces you to a panting mess.
Tears threaten to swell in your eyes, and you whine as he involves his other hand in the matter, furiously rubbing your clit. âYour fingers feel much better than m-mine, Lo.â
âI can tell.â He curls them just right, and you push back against his thrusts, tilting your pelvis to meet him halfway. âThere you go. Take what you need, sweetheart. Iâm right here, Iâve got you.â
Everything feels frenzied, fast, the way your inner walls spam and contract around his fingers as you chase your second climax.
Once you come down from your high, your blurred vision catches him tugging the waistband of his sweatpants down. His cock springs free, and he fists himself, stroking his length angrily.
You watch as some pre-cum dribbles from the head, and you lean forward, watching it closely.
âYou look goddamn beautiful when you come, darlinâ,â he murmurs through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched tight. Hovering over you, he rucks your shirt up until he can see your tits from above. He alternates between your breasts, squeezing them while he continues to stroke his girth. âWant to see these all dirty.â
Logan truly loses it when your hand reaches out to him, tracing a bulging vein near the head of his cock. You meet his lustful gaze, batting your lashes, and then you feel his come splashing against your bare chest, a choked moan escaping Loganâs throat, spurts of his hot seed landing on your skin.
âFuckinâ hell⊠fuck,â he grunts, still tugging at his cock, enamored with the masterpiece heâs created. When itâs finally over, he lies beside you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You run your fingers through his hair, and he nuzzles further into your touch with a groan. âIâm too old for this.â
Minutes pass as both of you seem to grasp the gravity of what has just happened. Eventually, Logan rises to his feet, disappearing for a brief moment before coming back with a towel to wipe his come off your stomach and chest.
Heâs gentle with you, his gaze trained on his task until his eyes flick up to meet yours.Â
âDonât look at me like that,â he says, pulling your shorts back up.
âLike what?âÂ
âLike you want to see right through me.â He adjusts your shirt to cover your body again, but the towel remains in his hand, a reminder of the previous events.
Iâm not gonna kiss you, but Iâll make you feel good. Just this time, âkay? And we donât talk about it.
You donât have to talk about it. You definitely donât.Â
Two days later, heâs the one who comes looking for you.
Youâre nearly asleep when he knocks on your door. âCome in,â you mumble, a bit of drool having dampened your pillow. You dry your mouth with the back of your hand, your back turned to the door.
He steps into your room cautiously, as if navigating a minefield. The mattress dips under his weight. âWere you sleeping?â he asks, caressing your leg over the covers.Â
You shift onto your back, your body responding before your mind. Thereâs no blood on his clothesâthat makes you feel a bit better, and you shake your head.
âGood.â He looms closer, fumbling with his belt. His thumb applies little pressure to your lower lip, and your mouth parts to let him in, salivating.
This is just like Pavlovâs dog experimentâexcept that Logan isnât an experimenter, and you arenât a dog.
Yet, when he approaches you like this, you canât help but respond, settling into a routine where you both take take take from each other.
Logan doesnât fuck you, even when you beg him to. He gets you off with his fingers, his thigh, his mouthâbut his cock remains out of the equation.Â
âJust the tip,â you plead, voice laced with pure need, when heâs got his face nestled between your legs.Â
As he stops eating you out, his beard shiny with your arousal, heâs still got that angry look on his face. Your cries donât get to him.
âThat lieâs older than me.â He slips his fingers back inside you, aiming to make you drop the subject. âCome on, baby. Gotta get ready for work, but you need to come first.â
Nor does he stay the night after telling you youâre the most gorgeous girl heâs ever seen in his life. Just when you think heâs fallen asleep, his legs intertwined with yours and one of his large hands under your head, you drift off.
By the time morning comes, heâs gone. You just know that when night falls, heâll be back for more, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.
Despite all that, Logan wonât kiss you. He keeps his promise, and you hate how determined he is.Â
âNot even once?â you ask him one night while going over the scars on his back. Youâre in his bed this time, and he has his nose buried in his pillow, moments away from dozing off.Â
âNo,â he answers, squirming slightly under your touch. âIâm tired. Stop doing that.â
âHow did you get this one?â You trace one scar thatâs close to his shoulder, resting your chin just inches from it.
He turns his face to see your eyes. âWell, I was doing Pilates, and IâHey!â He laughs when you pinch the skin near his ribs, tickling him. âI donât even remember. Mustâve got it a long time ago.â
âDid it hurt?â Itâs a dumb question, but he doesnât mention it.
His index finger grazes your cheek, and he chuckles at the way your eyelids flutter. âIn the past, they all did. But not anymore,â he replies, though you wish you could believe him.
You know heâs in pain most days. That when he goes down on you, and heâs on his knees for too long, he has trouble standing up without cursing. That no amount of alcohol, or his healing ability, helps him with it.
You kiss each of his scars before curling against his side, brushing your nose against his. âAnd now?â Your eyes fall to his lips, silently hoping heâll say Yes.
Instead, he sighs. âI think we should go to sleep.â
So despite the lack of kisses, the miscommunication, and the fact that he wonât fuck you even though you knowâyou feelâhe wants to, things are good between you.
Charles notices it, openly expressing his recent realization. âHe looks happier, doesnât he?â he asks says after winning two games of chess in a row, startling you.Â
âLogan, you mean?â
âYes, my dear.â
You glance down at the board, fidgeting with the pieces. âI guess so.â
âYou guess so?â he parrots your previous words, raising an eyebrow in doubt. âLook at me,â he says, and as you do it, he points a shaky finger toward your neck. âI assume mosquitos have taken a liking to you.â
Heat rises to your cheeks, your hand flying up to cover the hickey you had completely forgotten about in the first place. âCharles, Iâmââ
âAre you happy?â he interrupts you, and you nod, because you are.Â
A nagging thought lingers at the back of your mind. You donât know if youâre asking for too much, but it still feels like somethingâs missing.
One morning, you accidentally overhear a conversation between them. The door of the tank is ajar, and right before you step inside, you recognize Loganâs voice in the distance.
âCharles, Iâm fine, alright? I donât need your advice.â
Thereâs a pause before Charles responds. âYou know, Logan⊠this is what life looks like. You should take a moment and feel it. You still have time.â
Logan doesnât say anything in response to that. And if he does, you donât stick around long enough find out, because youâre already turning on your heel.
A poet once said: âBlowjobs are fucking amazing.â
Actually, you might be wrong. Those may not have been a poetâs words, but your best friend Keiraâs from high school.
You remember the sleepovers at her placeâshe had a boyfriend at the time, a boy she had met at a party you hadnât been invited to.Â
âWelcome to blowjobs 101,â she had declared one night, holding a hairbrush like a microphone. âDonât worry, sweetie. Iâll tell you everything you need to know when the moment comes.â
Luckily, many years later, that moment arrived.
Just ten minutes ago, you were cooking dinner, sniffling back tears while chopping onions, so lost in thought that you didnât realize Logan was already home.
He tossed his keys onto the table, hugging you from behind seconds later. You leaned back against his chest, enjoying the scratch of his beard against your sensitive skin, his lips planting soft kisses wherever they could.
âHow was work?â you dropped the knife, wiping your tears as you turned to face him, throwing your arms around his neck. Logan pulled you in tighter by the waist, giving your ass a firm squeeze.
âHell, as usual,â he looked into your eyes, finding them all glossy. âYou miss me so much you started crying?â
Of course, you didnât talk about itâbut words arenât the only ones who can convey meaning.
Youâre not sure how, but one thing led to another, and now youâre on your knees, Loganâs cock filling your mouth. Your lips, swollen and red, suck hard at his tip, pulling the foreskin back, and his hips jerk deeper into your throat. âThatâs it, fuck. Doinâ so good.â
Your movements are far from graceful. As a matter of fact, itâs all too sloppy and desperate. Saliva drips down your chin, some of it coating his balls, and you fondle them at the same time you bob your head.
Keiraâs advice plays on repeat in your mind, and you pull out every trick you know to make Logan roll his eyes.
So far, you think youâre doing pretty great, judging by the way heâs gripping the back of your head.
âH-how is this your first time suckinâ cock?â he slurs, more to himself, his voice strangled as you make eye contact with him. He brushes your hair out of your face, bewitched by the sight of him disappearing into your wet mouth. âGod, I fuckinâ love you.â
Taken aback by his sudden confession. you involuntarily gag around him. He pulls you off his cock, not even sparing you a glance, tucking himself back into his briefs. âWait, Loganââ
âNot now,â he mutters abruptly, withdrawing into his bedroom and shutting the door behind him.
God, I fuckinâ love you.
God, I fuckinâ love you.
God, I fuckinâ love you.
But still, he doesnât want to talk about it.
How bad is it to tell somebody you love them and then avoid them?
Yeah, itâs absolutely terrible, right? Tell that to the idiot himselfâLogan Howlett.
Itâs been over a week, and no matter how many times you press him for an explanation, he keeps dodging it.
Things go back to how they were before you two started fooling around, and Charlesâ questions donât take long to come: âI thought you two were getting somewhere.â
âMe too,â you admit, your voice quieter as you try to appear indifferent.
You have no answer for him. Not that you donât want to discuss your relationship problemsâitâs just that you donât know what went wrong.
When evading you isnât enough, he works longer hours, which only adds to how little you see him. At least he lets you know if heâs going to be late, sparing you from waiting up.
But apart from that, your interactions have dwindled to nothing, and itâs eating you alive.
Youâre madly in love with him. You thought you knew that already, but now that heâs distant, the depth of your feelings has become clearer than ever.
Heâs everywhere you go, just not physicallyâhe has conquered your mind.
And it should be funny, loving someone who used to be no more than a myth for you. Though Logan is realâmaybe too real for your own goodâand he hasnât been the mutant you once read about for quite some time.
This morning, heâs having breakfast at the table when you walk into the kitchen. You hold your breath as your shoulders brush for a microsecond, his gaze following your steps.
Youâre no longer accustomed to sharing the same space with him, so it makes sense that you stay as far away as possible.
After an awkward silence, he stands up and mutters something about checking on Charles and giving him his meds, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
Itâs infuriating, how collected he seems. Why isnât he miserable like you? Doesnât he miss you? Didnât you two have something⊠special?
Iâm not gonna kiss you, but Iâll make you feel good. Just this time, âkay? And we donât talk about it.
The shit Iâd for you.
God, I fuckinâ love you.
Not now.
The memory of his words lingers, seared into your unconscious, though the sound of his phone jolts you out of your thoughts.
Itâs ringing beside the coffee machine, and you try to ignore it, determined to be the bigger person.
But after five minutes of the relentless ringtone echoing in the empty kitchen, youâve had enough.
Unknown callerâinteresting. What could he possibly be hiding?
Charles, you better keep that asshole busy, you think to yourself, swiping right to answer the call.
Before you can say anything, a womanâs voice fills the line.
âJames! Thank God. Itâs Gillian. You didnât reply to any of my texts, and I was starting to get worried,â she lets out a giggle, the sound grating against your nerves.
As your grip on the phone tightens, your knuckles start to go white.
âLook, I know you said you werenât available, but I havenât been able to stop thinking about you since that ride. I didnât see any ring on your finger, so what do you say, huh? Will you let me take you out?â
Red. Youâre seeing red.
âJames? Hello? Cat got your tongue?â
At last, you clear your throat. âHey,â you greet her, pacing around the kitchen. âIâm deeply sorry, but James canât talk right now.â
âExcuse me?â she snaps, her high-pitched voice echoing through the speakers, and you pull the device away from your ear. âThis is Jamesâ number. Who the fuck are you?â
âOh, Iâll tell you who the fuck I am, you intolerant piece ofââ
Before you can finish, the phone is yanked out of your hand, the call hastily ending.
There is no use in playing dumb, not when Loganâs standing right in front of you, observing you like youâre a child whoâs made a severe mistake.
His deep, brown eyes pierce your soul, shattering any chance you had of coming up with an excuse.
âWhat where you doing with my phone?â Itâs the first thing he asks you, his voice still steady, the calm before the storm.
Perhaps youâre not as mature as you thought you wereâyour forehead furrows, unwilling to back down, and you fall silent. He takes a step forward, as if he canât believe your attitude. âThink I asked you somethinâ. Why did you answer?â
âGillian sounds like a lovely lady. Tell her I said âHiâ the next time you see her,â you croak, attempting to walk past him, but he doesnât budge, his solid frame blocking your path. You collide with his chest, and it feels like trying to move a brick wall without success.
âWeâre talking. You canât just leave.â
The nerve of this man.
âYou canât be serious,â you retort, staring at him, wishing the emotion in your tone could capture even a fraction of what youâre truly feeling. âWerenât you the one who walked away first? After telling me you loved me?â
You search for any sign of the man who once held you close, but he feels miles away, hidden under all these layers that smell like cheap whiskey and gasoline. âYou didnât mean it.â
âI did. I meant every word,â he growls, his fists clenching at his sides, and you donât miss the exhaustion in his eyes, the dark circles that expose the fragile façade of control heâs so desperate to maintain. âGoddamit! Youâre doing that thing again!â
âWhat thing?â you exclaim, your mouth hanging open in frustration. âWhat the fuck are you talking about? Iâm not doing anything.â
âYes, you are! Youâre trying to see through me, like you can read my mind.â
âWell, sorry to disappoint, but Iâm not a fucking mutant. I just have eyes, Logan.â You throw your arms up, exasperated. âPeople actually look at each other when they have a conversation, in case you havenât noticed.â
âYouâre testing my patience,â he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face.
âAnd you are testing mine.â You rest your back against the table, raising your chin. âSo, who is she?â
Logan drops his shoulders, slamming his eyes shut. âI drove her once, last week. It was a long ride and she⊠wouldnât stop talking. Didnât shut up for a single second. She hit on me, but I told her Iâm off the market.â
âWhy? âCause she talked too much?â
âNo. Because I love you,â he says, pure awe transforming his expression, like he doesnât believe he has said it out loud. âI donât know when I started feeling like this, or if Iâve always felt it, butâI do. I love you.â
Oh.
You had heard those words slip through his lips before, but now they sound different. It might be that keeping him at arm's length has felt like death by a thousand cuts, or perhaps itâs the realization that this is the first time someoneâs declaring their love for you.
Fuck. He loves you. As in, heâs in love with you?
âThen why do you keep running?â You edge closer to him, your eyes trained on his. âIâm done with the chase, Logan. Itâs tiringâI am tired. Iâve been sleeping like shit, trying to figure out whatââ
His arms surround your body, cutting you off and pulling you close. The hammering of his heart matches yours, and you return the hug, nuzzling your nose against his neck.
You fear that this might be all youâve ever needed, feeling as if the pieces he took from you in the past are finally falling back into place.
Logan holds you as if in a past life he lost you, but now, heâs decided to never let you go.
This profound sense of completeness, of being where youâre meant to be, makes you realize youâve found home in the warmth of his embrace.
âIâm sorry. This⊠this scares me, alright?â he murmurs next to your ear, raking his fingers through your hair. âYou make me feel things I didnât think I could feel anymore. Thatâs what Iâm running fromâthe part of me I thought was gone. But you⊠you brought it back.â
You feel a deep urge to curl up and cry, wondering why on earth he would ever think he was unworthy of being cared for. âLogan, IâŠâ
âI sound pathetic, I know. It sounded way better in my head.â
âDonât you dare say that.â You retreat a bit, looking him in the eye. He stares down at you with a tenderness youâve never seen before. âItâs not pathetic to voice how you feel. I want to know it all, want to know everything about you.â
âEverything?â
âYes, everything. But I need you to promise me that you wonât run away anymore. I know itâs difficult, but itâs not fair to any of us.â
His eyes peer directly into yours, and he gives a nod. âI promise to do my best.â He presses your foreheads together, and thatâs when his mouth turns into a grin. âYouâre not going to say it back?â he teases, gripping your waist. âCome on, I said it first. Twice, for the record.â
Lifting your shoulders in a half-shrug, you find it hard to conceal your smile. âI may need a bit more convincing.â
Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.
Before you know it, his lips are on yours, almost making you lose your balance. You whimper into his mouth, tightening your arms around his neck as his tongue wastes no time in finding yours, stroking it sensually.
The wait had been definitely worth itâyouâd do everything all over again if it meant having him kiss you like this at the end of the day.
He tilts your face so that he can deepen the kiss, and a whine gets caught in your throat when his fingers pull gently at the hair at your nape, nibbling at your bottom lip.Â
âI love you, too. Very much, to be honest,â you blurt out against his mouth, pleased with the way he laughs at your reaction, squeezing your hips. âBut I still have some ideas in mind.â
âIâm all ears.â
Here goes nothing. âFuck me like Iâve been asking you to.â You cup his cheek, guiding his lips into yours one more time. âPlease,â you mewl, standing on your tiptoes. âWant you to be my first.â
If it were up to you, you wouldâve begged him to take you right there on the kitchen floor. But Logan, ever the gentleman, insists on moving things to his room.
Each of his movements is slow, igniting your skin with a burning heat, leaving his name imprinted where his teeth sink into your soft flesh.
Youâre left in nothing but your underwear by the time he murmurs: âLet me take my time with you.â He trails his lips down your chest, your stomach, until heâs planting several kisses along your ankle. âI donât know how I got so lucky, baby. Look at you.â
Under his gaze, you feel shy, your eyes snapping to the ceiling instead. âShut up,â you say, tugging at his shirt to undress him, your fingers tracing the lines of his abdomen before you pull him into a bruising kiss, sucking on his tongue.
He strips out of his black slacks and hovers over you, his clothed cock grinding against your throbbing core, eliciting a moan from both of you. âSo goddamn beautiful. Canât believe youâre mine.â His tip grazes your entrance through the fabric, making your toes curl in ectasy. âIâm gonna make you feel good, I swear.â
At first, heâs extremely careful, making sure to stretch you out with his fingers while you stroke him, pumping your fist to match his rhythm. âKeep that up and thisâll be over sooner than expected,â he warns, taking one of your nipples into his mouth.
It doesnât happen like it does in the books or movies. No foreplay couldâve prepared you for the moment he enters you.
You move clumsily beneath him, your nose bumping into his forehead as he eases the first inch of his length inside.
For a moment, youâre not certain which hurts most: the dull ache in your nose or the way heâs splitting you open.Â
Logan freezes, his eyes wide in concern. âShit. Iâm sorry, sweetheart. Are you okay?â His hand cradles your face as he props himself up on one forearm, pushing your hair back while you adjust to his size. You laugh despite the sting, and he wipes away your tears with his thumb. âYouâre laughinâ?â
âIâm just happy,â you manage to get through the lump in your throat, raking your nails down his back, feeling the rough texture of the scars beneath your fingers. âI love you. Since that day at the bar, Iââ you pause for a second, gasping at the sudden wave of pleasure when he twitches inside you. âIâll always l-love you. Forever.â
As you wrap your legs around his waist and tell him youâre ready, something inside him shifts.
He feels like a madman, his eyes fixed on your face the whole time, searching for any hint of discomfort, though he occasionally glances down at the place where your bodies meet and become one, entranced by the sight of you taking him in, slick coating his length.Â
Your heels dig into his lower back, pulling him back to the presentâback to you, with your pretty tits bouncing each time he pistols his hips, the intensity of his thrusts increasing.
âAll those times you took care of me, when youâFuck,â he groans, nipping at your jaw to regain some of his composure, his humid breath dampening your skin. Your scent drives him wild, and he reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. âYou made me feel loved when no one else did. My girl, love you so f-fucking much.â
His pace is nothing more than a voiceless testament to everything he feels but canât find words to express.
With each minute that passes, your dripping cunt grips him tighter and tighter, his thrusts losing finesse. He needs you to come firstâwhy does he feel like a virgin?
When you tell him youâre close, the world around him turns into a musical. You cling to the sheets, the mattress creaking noisily as he clutches the headboard, determined to find that angle that will push you over the edge.
âThatâs it, sing for me,â Logan mutters from above, hypnotized by the crease forming between your brows. âCome on, let go.â
Time seems to slow down as your muscles tense and you clamp around him, your body sagging against him. His name spills from your lips in breathy whimpers, like an endless prayer, and your mouth engulfs his, tongues and teeth clashing in a fevered kiss.
Soon after that, he surrenders to the coiling tension deep within him, pulling out just in time to stroke himself once, twice, before emptying his hot load across your mound.
You gently thumb the head of his cock, coaxing out every last drop of his hot seed. Heâs panting as he comes down from his high, his brain foggy and blissfully blank for a while.Â
Logan loses track of how many times he tells you he loves youâhe does it when he pulls you into his chest, when his lips press against your temple, and when you crack that smile, the one that resembles the very purpose of his existence.
âSo this is what it feels like.â His voice sounds low like a murmur near your ear, and you stir, half-asleep.
âHmm?â
âNothing, baby. Just thinkinâ aloud.â
You donât have to talk about it, at least not now. Deep down, he knows that whatever thoughts run through his mind will somehow find their way into yours.
This is what life looks like. You should take a moment and feel it. You still have time.
And God, is he feeling it.
dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! :)
#logan howlett#wolverine#wolverine x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x you#deadpool and wolverine#logan howlett fic#logan howlett fanfiction#logan x reader#logan howlett smut#james logan howlett#james howlett#logan howlett xmen#logan howlett x fem!reader#wolverine smut#the wolverine#wolverine x men#wolverine fic#wolverine fanfiction#logan wolverine#x men wolverine#smut#fanfiction#fluff#angst#old man logan#fic: never is a promise#x men movies#logan james howlett
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The Boob Curse || ryomen sukuna x f! reader

Summary: You're just watching tv, but sukuna is too busy being obsessed with your boobs.
Warnings â ïž: fluff, crackfic, sukuna being a menace, boob obsession, groping, squeezing, staring,(consensual but annoying)
A/N: bored asf, and this was randomly in my head, so I just had to do it, I feel like sukuna would probably do this đ)
It was supposed to be a normal night. You were curled up on the couch, watching TV, minding your business like a responsible adult. The soft glow of the screen cast a warm light over the dimly lit living room, and everything was peaceful.
Or at least, it should have been, but no.
Because Sukuna was staring, not at the TV, not at your face, but your boobs.
You could feel it - his intense, burning gaze boring into your chest like he was trying to set your cleavage on fire through sheer willpower.
At first, you ignored it. Because, whatever. Sukuna was a menace- staring was just part of his personality, but then it got worse.
His arm, which had previously been resting along the back of the couch, inched lower.
And lower.
And-
A large, calloused hand suddenly grabbed a handful of your chest.
You froze.
Sukuna didn't even have the decency to look ashamed. If anything, he looked fascinated- thumb lazily tracing over the exposed lace of your bra, fingers sinking into your soft flesh like he was testing something.
"...Sukuna."
He didn't answer. Just gave your boob a slow squeeze.
"SUKUNA."
"Yeah?" He hummed.
You turned your head to glare at him, boob still in his grasp. "What the hell are you doing?"
Sukuna blinked like the answer was obvious. "Holding them."
"WHY?!"
A pause. Then, completely deadpan:
"Because they're there."
You smacked his arm, but the bastard did not let go.
Instead, he gave them another experimental squeeze, tilting his head like he was analyzing their weight, like some kind of perverted scientist.
"Huh," he muttered.
You narrowed your eyes. "What do you mean, 'huh'?"
"They're... nice."
You gasped. "EXCUSE ME?!"
Sukuna had the audacity to chuckle. "Soft. Bouncy. Good shape. Yeah, I approve."
"Oh, wow, thank you, Your Highness," you deadpanned. "So honored to have the King of Curses boob approval."
"You should be."
You were about to lose it.
"Okay, you've had your fun. Let go."
Sukuna did not let go.
In fact, he gave them another squeeze. Like a damn stress ball.
"Hmm."
You snapped.
"STOP ANALYZING THEM LIKE YOU'RE WRITING A DAMN RESEARCH PAPER!"
Sukuna snickered but still didn't let go. His other hand came up and cupped the other one, like he was trying to compare.
THIS. WAS. INSANE.
"Sukuna, I swear to GOD-"
"What?" He said lazily, finally looking at your face. "You wear that tiny ass top, boobs practically spilling out, and expect me to do nothing?"
You gawked. "Yes?? Like s normal, civilized person??"
Sukuna gave you a long, slow blink.
Then, with absolute confidence, he said:
"Yeah, see, I'm not a civilized person."
You groaned, dropping your head back against the couch. "You're a literal curse, a walking massacre, The King of Destruction, and yet -" You motioned aggressively to his hands, still attached to your chest. "-THIS is what you're obsessed with?!"
Sukuna shrugged. "I'm a man of culture."
You wanted to die.
"Sukuna."
"Hm?"
"Let. Go."
Another long squeeze.
"No."
You grabbed his wrist, trying to pry his hands off. He didn't budge. The bastard just watches you struggle, looking amused, like you were some cute little weakling fighting for survival.
Finally, he sighed dramatically and leaned in, voice low, deep, amused.
"Alright, fine," he murmured, smirking. "I'll let go."
Relief flooded you until he gave one last squeeze.
A long, deliberate, slow one.
"For now."
You gasped in betrayal. "YOU-"
Sukuna leaned back, arms now resting behind his head, looking relaxed as if he hadn't just spent the last five minutes groping you like some horny teenage boy.
You, on the other hand, sat there stunned. Offended. VIOLATED.
"I hate you," you grumbled, crossing your arms - only to immediately uncross them when you realized that pushed your boobs up even more.
Sukuna snickered. "No, you don't."
"YES, I DO."
He glanced at you again - eyes dropping immediately to your cleavage.
You caught him.
"SUKUNA."
"What?"
"STOP LOOKING."
He smirked. "Not my fault they're out."
Your eyes twitched. "You are the WORST."
"Mm." He stretched, looking completely unbothered. "You say that, but you haven't moved away."
You opened your mouth- then closed it. Because damn it, he was right, and he knew it.
Smug Bastard.
Sukuna chuckled again, pulling you into his lap like you weighed nothing. He rested his chin on your shoulder, arms looping around your waist, his warm breath ghosting against your ear.
"You're lucky you're cute," he muttered.
Your face heated. "I- WHAT?"
He just grinned against your skin, voice dripping with amusement.
"Relax, brat. You're my favorite."
You huffed, still pouting, but let yourself sink into his arms anyway.
But you were still mad.
#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk fanfiction#jjk imagines#jjk fluff#ryomen sukuna#sukuna#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna x reader#sukuna imagine#sukuna fluff
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it was always you.

for as long as you remember, youâve always had the fattest crush on your childhood friend, jeon jungkook. it never blossomed into something more though, because thatâs what happens when life naturally takes it courseâyou grow up, you move on, and you pretend that those feelings never existed in order to maintain the good friendship that remained between the two of you over the years.
so when he visits you after work one day, asking you to marry him, you do everything you can to refuse, because the reason heâs asking you isnât due to the fact that he finally realized that he loved you after all this time, but because he thinks heâs doing you a big favor.
or at least, thatâs what you think.
pairing: jungkook x reader
word count: 13.2k
rating: 18+
content: fluff, semi-angst, childhood friends to lovers au, pining au | ft. naval aviator!jungkook + brotherâs best friend!jungkook; professor!reader + editor!reader | inspired by purple hearts
warning/s: swearing, potentially wrong medical & military information (iâm sorry but i tried to do as much research i can đ), mentions of having type 1 diabetes, making out, heavy petting, implied sexual content: oral (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (this is only fiction!)
MINI PLAYLIST: â« die with a smile â lady gaga, bruno mars â« juno â sabrina carpenter â« selfish â *nsync â« nandito na ako â benj pangilinan, angela ken
opening note. omg this is my first full length fic in two damn years i think??? certainly took a long time before i had the motivation to write again but i hope y'all like this! to my og readers who still keep up with my shenanigans, this one's for you đ„čđ
âAny questions?â
A boy wearing half-rimmed glasses raises his hand and you gesture for him to speak. âCan we get an extension on the Save the Cat project due tomorrow?â
You sigh, just as several of your students begin agreeing with him and muttering reasons of their own why the extension should be approved. Itâs the week before finals, and youâre aware that the class must be packed with assignments and projects for several of their classes because of it, hence the rather last minute request. They look tired and pleading, a complete reflection of how you were when you were the one in their position nearly a decade ago, begging for an extension from a professor who you thought was kind enough to be swayed with the proposition.
You scan the crowd. âHow many of you are at least 70% with it, hm?â
More than half of the class raises their hands.
âOkay, thatâs honestly unexpected,â you say, pleased to know that they arenât slacking on your subject. âDoes Monday sound good? Thatâs three more days, to be fair. I donât want to extend it further because I have to read everyoneâs work and you guys know I donât like rushing it before turning in your final grade.â
A chorus of relief and thanks echoed in the room, all of your students either dramatically sinking in their chair or erupting in an animated conversation with their seatmate or making crying faces to portray how grateful they are.
âThank you so much, Ms. ____!â
âI love you, Ms. ____!â
âMs. ____, I will offer my first child to you,â one theatrically adds and you smile a bit, rolling your eyes at students like this one who is now opting to flatter you way too much for your act of kindness.
âAlright, alright. Just get it done and Iâm expecting quality work, okay? Class dismissed.â
The whole class begins to gather their things at the cue and you donât stay there a minute longer after your announcement, exiting the lecture hall to head to the faculty room where youâre certain half of the teaching staff have gone home already. Itâs already 8:47 p.m., and all you want to do is head home to get the rest you deserve after an eventful day.
There was a time that having a schedule from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. wasnât the norm for you. You used to value work life balance so muchâit was even a nonnegotiable you used to say in interviews, saying that if you didnât get enough rest within the week, then the job most likely wasnât for you. But things have been very different for the past months; you have definitely grown out of that mindset due to the fact that youâre simply in need of another source of income to pay for your monthly rent, utility bills, and now your medication. Youâre in a stage of your life wherein you consider working part time as a professor was a blessing rather than a big nuisance.
Making a right turn to where the hallway to the faculty room is, youâre too busy rearranging the papers inside the folder youâre holding to notice a man sitting on the bench placed just beside the entrance. He notices you the second you appear in his line of vision though; he straightens his posture and proceeds on standing up immediately upon seeing you closer, calling your name softly when you failed to look at his direction, too preoccupied with the thought of finally coming home that youâre oblivious that the man trying to catch your attention is Jeon Jungkook.
â____,â he calls again and this time you notice him, your eyes widening instantly.
âHoly shiââ You stop yourself from finishing that sentence. âJungkook?â
He grins. âHey, lamb chop.â
âWhat the hell are you doing here?â
âIs that how you greet an old friend?â
âOh, fuck off.â
He laughs, following suit to you whoâs already giggling just by his presence alone, outstretching his arms then. âYou gonna hug me or what?â
You beam and step forward to embrace him. He returns it without hesitation, muscular arms circling around you and squeezing tightly that it lifts you up from the ground for a quick second. The faint smell of fabric conditioner on his clothes enters your nostrils and you feel like a teenager again, warmth rushing to your face while your heart hammers loudly in your chest. Regardless of how old the both of you are, you think your hopeless crush on the guy will forever live on and constantly transform you into a middle school girl whenever opportunities like these to have him near arise. Youâre just happy youâve trained yourself to be better at hiding it now compared to when you were younger.
âArenât you supposed to be in base or wherever it is that youâre designated?â you ask, the first to let go from the hug.
âActually, I returned from deployment three days ago. Iâm on leave for two weeks.â
âWow. Two weeks, huh?â
âYep. Itâs the longest break Iâve gotten in a while.â
âThatâs good. Everybody needs a break from time to time.â
âSays the girl has a day job and a night job.â He points out with a smirk; your heart does a little leap at how handsome he looks doing that. âWhen the hell did you get into teaching, by the way? I never pegged you to be the kind who can tolerate it. You hate kids.â
âYouâll find yourself tolerating lots of things in this economy.â You snort. âAnd my students arenât kids. Theyâre in college.â
âYeah, which you graduated from six years ago. Still technically kids.â
âAre you seriously jabbing at my age when youâre two years older than I am?â
He rolls his eyes at that one, an indication that you won the argument. âAnyway,â he starts again and you grin, âI didnât come here to compare how old we areââ
âYou didnât?â
He sends you a look. Your grin gets even wider.
âIâm here because I was hoping to treat you to dinner.â
âDinner?â you repeat, not masking the surprise from your voice.
Letâs get the facts straight before we proceed to this conversation.
It isnât a lie when you say that you and Jungkook are great friends. You have been since you were 7 and your family just moved into the house next to theirs. He was a natural playmate, a companion when you couldnât tolerate the antics of your older brother, the boy who looked out for you aside from said older brother, and the person youâve shared significant history with throughout your youth that you can never seem to forget nor disregard.
Itâs just that you never deemed that you were great enough friends for him to go out of his way and visit you at your workplace, offering to treat you for dinner. Gestures like that were reserved for your older brother, Seowon, whoâs the same age as he is and who youâre sure is considered as his best friend. Compared to them, yours and Jungkookâs dynamic shifted slightly after graduating from college. What once was a really close friendship turned into a casual one, with mostly just teasing, light talks, and the occasional welfare checks at times you hear certain news from the other thatâs worth speaking directly about.
At the mention of that, realization dawns on you on why he must be here.
âJungkookâŠâ Youâre trying not to sound mad but you canât hide the exasperation from your voice. âThatâs not the real reason youâre here.â
âOf course, it is. Why else would I be here?â
âHe told you, didnât he?â you ask, not willing to drag this out. âYouâre just going to give me another lecture that I definitely donât need.â
Jungkook frowns, like heâs dismayed that you caught on pretty swiftly.
âIâm right, arenât I?â You pressed.
âHe meant well, ____.â
You scowl. To remark that Seowon is unnecessarily nosy and coddling would be an understatement. That man hasnât left you alone the second he was aware of your condition. Usually, whenever he gets into his âbig brother tendenciesâ, his girlfriend Winnie steps in and helps you lay him off your back. However, itâs different this time; no matter how much you reinstill your independence and insist that youâre fine, itâs like youâre talking to a wall.
âWhat exactly did you hear from him?â you query.
He seems hesitant in answering that. âThat you got diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.â
You wince.
âLook,â he steps forward towards you, âI wasnât going to bring it up unless you did, okay? Iâm just here because Iâm genuinely worried about you and I want to know how youâre doing.â
âIâm fine.â You murmur. âYou donât need to worry.â
âWorry doesnât vanish magically just because someone says so.â
âWell, it shouldâbecause Iâm fine.â
âYou sure? I heard that youâre struggling to buy insulin among other things youâre having a hard time paying.â
âFuck. Seowon told you that too? Thatâs private.â
âMy parents know. He just filled me in because he wants you to have as much support as you can get.â
âI donât need that. Iâm an adult. Iâve lived by myself for years. I can fend for myself just fine.â
âIt doesnât look like it from what Iâve been hearing.â
âAll youâre hearing is a warped and exaggerated version of the story told by Seowon who wonât listen to a word I say.â You huff. âIâm fine and Iâve been doing everything I can, alright? Iâm taking care of myself. Iâm going to the doctor whenever I need to. Iâm making ends meet, buying treatment for this goddamn disease and regulating my sugar levels all the fucking time. Why do you think Iâve been working two jobs for the past year? Itâs because Iâm doing everything I can to stay alive.â
Jungkook doesnât reply, he only remains gazing at you.
âIf youâre here to offer me money or whatever because of what he said,â you add, already embarrassed that you canât even look at him anymore, âthen I donât want it.â
âThatâs not what Iâm here for,â he says.
âThen are you really just here to treat me to dinner?â you question sarcastically.
He laughs and you dare return your eyes at him, catching him peering at you with a fond expression. âYes. Itâs my way of doing a welfare check.â
âWelfare check.â You echo with squinted eyes. âWell, in that case, here I amâalive and healthy.â
âI can see that, and Iâm glad.â He smiles. âBut I need more than just seeing you. I need a conversation and an apology.â
âAn apology?â
âFor being the last person to know about your condition.â
âAnd weâre still talking about that apparently.â You mutter under your breath. âSorry. I didnât think that you wanted to know.â
âOf course, I would have wanted to know. Itâs you weâre talking about here.â
Something about how he said you causes your lips to twitch as you fight off a smile. This isnât a good time to dive into your romantic feelings for your childhood crush, but when heâs letting go of lines like that which are sure to have your heart soaring out of your chest, itâs hard to keep on a cool and unfazed facade. You just convince yourself that he sees you as a little sister and thatâs why heâs so worried; you should already be past your âdeluluâ phase at this age to be affected by such statements.
âI didnât want to add to your worries,â you reason. âYou already have your life to think about. Add to the fact that youâre a naval aviatorâso you literally have your own life first to think about.â
âI can make space for you.â
Is he flirting? Is this a normal thing to say between friends?
You blink. âOkay, uh, thatâs⊠thatâs completely up to you, I guess.â
âI just like knowing those things first hand. It makes me worry less.â
âGot it. Next time I learn Iâm dying, Iâll tell you.â
â____,â he says your name in warning, and you know heâs serious.
âSorry.â You heat up. âI couldnât resist.â
âDonât be a pain in the ass.â
âI promise thatâll be the last time I make a dark joke, Lieutenant.â
Jungkookâs nostrils flare. You prevent yourself from grinning like a fool again in success of getting on his nerves.
âAre you done here? Because Iâm hungry and would really like to get going now.â He changes the subject and gestures to the faculty.
âYeah. Iâll just get my things and then I can get out of here.â
âGreat. Youâre letting me take you to dinner, right?âÂ
âDo I have a choice?â
âNo.â
âFine.â You deadpan.
This time, heâs the one whoâs beaming at you. âIâll wait for you here and we can go.â
âOkay.â
****
When Jungkook discovered that you had type 1 diabetes through a phone call with Seowon, he spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, ignoring the snores of his squadmates and overthinking whatâs supposed to happen to you now that you had an autoimmune disease which he was told didnât have a cure. He was assured that you were okay despite it, that there was medication to treat it, and that you had access to them and have been very careful with your lifestyle due to the diagnosis ever since.
He still couldnât be put to ease though. As ridiculous as it may sound, he had this overwhelming realization that life truly was short, that you had to make certain decisions all the time because you need to adjust to what the universe is only willing to give you. It was funny coming from a person who risked his life for a living. He thinks that perhaps he never understood the philosophy of the quote âtime is goldâ until he had a loved one on the same trajectory, always one step closer to possible death.
And so that same night, he decided to file a leave for two weeks, effective immediately after his deployment.Â
He wasnât sure what his game plan was exactly in filing that two-week leave. Was he supposed to barge in your life and force you to let him take care of you? Was he supposed to demand why you ended up having diabetes? Was he supposed to act as a big brother like your actual big brother because he was that worried about you? But if Jungkook was going to be truthful, he already had an idea on what he wanted to do in the back of his headâhe just didnât want to execute it because it was absolutely insane.
Until he heard Seowon suggest it himself when they met up at a bar to share a drink together.
âShe would never say yes,â Jungkook said, beyond doubt that you wonât be persuaded that easily with a plan like that.
Seowon made a face. âI know. That girl is so hyper independentâsheâd rather die than accept help.â He scoffed. âShe needs it though. Itâll help with her medication and she wonât have to pay rent for that shit apartment sheâs living in. Plus, she'll actually get the chance to take care of her body if sheâs not juggling two jobs to have sufficient income.â
âYouâre right.â Jungkook shrugged.
âYouâll do it then?â
He took a sip of his beer. âYeah. Iâd do anything for ____, you know that.â
âEven as crazy as marrying her?â
âSure.â
Seowon stared at him, narrowing his eyes and morphing his expression into a teasing one. âAre you sure youâre not just considering this because itâs a perfect excuse to marry my sister? I know you like her.â
âI donât like her.âÂ
âYouâre in love with her.â
âI donâtââ Jungkook began to deny but Seowon was staring him down. âFuck you, man. Donât make me some kind of pervert whoâs trying to lock her into marriage because he likes her. Youâre the one who brought the idea up.â
Seowon laughed out loud. âI know, I just canât believe youâd agree. Itâll benefit ____, thatâs for sureâyou, on the other hand? Itâs career suicide.â
He shrugged. âIâm okay with the thought that sheâll be okay.â
âBecause you love her, man.â Seowon pushed. âWhy on earth would you consider this if you werenât? Itâs a fraudulent marriage. Youâll be thrown in the brig and be dishonorably discharged if you get caught.â
âWe donât even know if sheâll agree to this whole thing. You said it yourself, she would never say yes.â
âYeah, unless maybe youâre the one who tries to persuade her.â
âMe?â
âYes.â
âDo you want me to buy her a ring and kneel down before her or something?â
âThat can work.â
âWhat?â Jungkook laughed.
Seowon raised an eyebrow. âDonât tell me you donât know how sheâs been crushing on you since we were kids.â
He barked out a laugh again. That he knew; it was impossible not to when a lot of friends and cousins kept on teasing you before, especially at instances Jungkook was in the very same vicinity. âWeâre not kids anymore and I barely see her though.â
âStill, it ought to count to something. It raises the chances of her agreeing.â
âYouâre really cool with me marrying your sister, Won?â Jungkook asked.
Seowon placed down the beer bottle heâs consuming on the counter. âYeah. Youâre a good guy. Youâre not perfect, but I know you enough to know that you wonât do anything that will purposely hurt her. Besides, if this sham marriage ends up to be a real relationship and then for some reason, you fuck up and decide to break her heartâIâll easily know what to do, where to find you, and then Iâll do everything I can to fuck you up.â
Jungkook pressed his lips together to stifle a chuckle.
âNoted.â
****
Itâs always been a big wonder to you how no matter how long itâs been since you saw each other, it still feels like no time has passed between you and Jungkook. You think thatâs why you can never get over him; he always had this comforting and familiar aura that you appreciateâsomething that you sought for in every other person that you liked. Maybe it was impractical, maybe it was the reason you can never hold a relationship for more than two years, but unless you gain the courage to confront your feelings and tell Jungkook about it, then you constantly dispel any doubts you might have whether this was good for you or not.
You donât want to lose him. Admitting that you harbored romantic feelings for him would just make it awkward for everyone: your brother, your family, and then his family. You donât think you can ever trade his smile, the sound of his laughter, and all the good things about him for anything in the world.Â
âAre you dating anyone?â he asks.
You choke on your drink, having just poured yourself and Jungkook a glass of water after the server arrived with the pitcher. Youâre in a Japanese restaurant near the university, aware that the cuisine was a favorite for the both of you hence why itâs what you recommended when he asked where you wanted to dine. The place is packed with people from the workforce and students; youâre thankful that you donât see any of your students within the mix.
âWeâre getting straight to it, huh?â you say.
Jungkook smirks. âIâm just making sure Iâm not upsetting a boyfriend by meeting you tonight.â
âDonât worry, youâre not upsetting anyone.â
He nods in understanding. You donât want to add more meaning to his actions for the evening but he seems glad about the information.
âHow about you?â you ask back. âAre you dating anyone?â
The ends of his mouth lift a bit upwards. âNope.â
âWhy? You donât have the time for it?â
âPrecisely.â
âIt must be really hard dating when youâre in the Navy then.â
âKinda. Weâre away a lot and stationed in different places most of the time. It can get really dangerous for us too and people donât like the stress that comes with that.â
 You bob. âDoes it get lonely?â
âSometimes, but when youâre on duty, you donât get to think about those things.â He chuckles. âBesides, I donât know if this sounds fucked up or notâbut it can get exciting. Flying a plane can be fun, you know. Not to mention that it helps when youâre surrounded by good men in your squadron.â
âYouâve always been an adrenaline junkie.â
âAnd youâve always been a scaredy-cat.â
You scoff at the declaration. âNo, Iâm not.â
âRemember when Seowon and I forced you to ride that ship in the amusement park that sways left to right and as it goes on it falls from a higher standpoint?â
âI donât know what youâre talking about.â
But you do, and Jungkook knows you do, itâs evident by how your expression is trying to feign innocence. That memory is your villain origin story; the whole pretext of why you refuse to ever visit the amusement park or ride an exhilarating ride again. Yet you canât help but recall that itâs one of the rare instances wherein you got to hold Jungkookâs hand when you two were younger, as his hand was the one you were clinging for dear life when it happened while the other was too busy slapping Seowon in irritation.
He snickers, appearing like heâs replaying the scene in his head. âWe should do that again with Seowon during my break.â
âHell no.â
âI thought you werenât a scaredy-cat?â He challenges.
âIâm not.â You give him a kittenish glare. âBut I am busy. I have to send the final manuscript of this book Iâm editing to the chief editor next week and itâs about to be finals week for my students as well.â
He fakes a shiver. âI donât know how you can do two jobs like that, ____. Truly.â
âYou work as a naval aviator so Iâd say weâre pretty even.â
The waiter arrives with your orders not long after, and you and Jungkook carry on with your conversation, jumping from topic to topic without difficulty. Youâre not certain when was the last time you saw each other like this to have so much to talk aboutâwas it last Christmas? Or was it more recent or longer than that? Nevertheless, it feels good and you find yourself blushing multiple times throughout the night, whether itâs because of how his words can have two meanings or how his eyes are staring at you so intensely whenever youâre the one whoâs talking.
You like the undivided attention, the back and forth thatâs occurring as you discourse, the subtle touches one of you does when something funny arises, how your knees are touching underneath the table. You wonder whatâs so different with this encounter that the energy feels so bizarre in a good way? As far as youâre concerned, youâre positive that youâre acting like you always have in his presenceâlively, smiley, sarcasticâand aside from the little touches of flirting here and there, Jungkookâs acting like he always has too.
When dinner was done, Jungkook offered to drive you home. You obliged, no longer in the mood to annoy him for you were tired to make the effort. Before stepping outside the restaurant however, you excused yourself to the restroom first, checking your blood sugar with the glucose meter you brought along wherever you went. Itâs a hassle but itâs necessary, largely because youâre still in the middle of saving up for the insulin pump that would help you regulate your sugar levels easier.
After administering yourself with the insulin injection you have, you spend a few more seconds inside the enclosed room. You should be past the point of feeling sorry for yourself, but itâs times like this wherein youâre with a loved one that the dejection hits and you wish that youâre in a better predicament than you are right now. Youâre close to being broke, youâre overworked, youâre somehow fatigued all the fucking timeâthose factors arenât soothing your worries at all. Itâs a miracle how you manage to keep an optimistic mind amidst everything.
âReady to go?â Jungkook smiles at you once youâre back at the table and you nod, clutching your bag tighter against your body and following him to his car.
He drives you to your place, turning the radio on, and letting it play while the both of you sit in silence. Youâre both tired and you almost even sleep during the ride. Itâs only when Jungkook gently shakes you awake that you realize that youâve arrived in front of your apartment building.
âIâll walk you up,â he insists as youâre unbuckling the seatbelt.Â
âThatâs no need, Kook.â
âOf course, it is,â he says. âIâll walk you up. Thatâs nonnegotiable.â
So, you allow him.
It takes five minutes tops to reach the door leading to your apartment. As you rummage through your bag to grab your keys, Jungkook patiently stands there, occasionally glancing around the hallway and even smiling when the old lady that resided in the same floor got out of her room to throw out the trash. He receives a smile in return which you notice and grin fondly at.
âWell, this is me.â You turn to him, done unlocking your door. âIâd invite you inside but you should probably get going. Itâs quite a long drive back home.â
âYeah.â He breathes out a chuckle. âHey, tonight was fun. It made me realize how I missed you.â
Your brain temporarily malfunctions; you force yourself to recover quickly. âMe too. I had fun tonight. Maybe we should do this again whenever youâre on a break.â
âAgreed.â
You flash him a smile. âYou can go now. Goodnight.â
Jungkook nods, however doesnât move a muscle. Heâs looking at you, like really looking at you, his eyes moving from one feature to another, as if heâs memorizing your face or having a hard time arranging the words he wants to say. You guess itâs the latter, familiar with a tongue-tied Jungkook that it takes you a few good seconds before youâre demanding why heâs impersonating a mannequin.
âThereâs something I want to say,â thatâs what he utters and you almost snort due to your assumption being right.
âOkayâŠâ The smile is still on your lips. âWhat is it?â
âPromise me you wonât get mad first.â
âWell, if youâre making me promise that then itâs probably worth being mad about.â
âItâs not as bad as you think.â
âThatâs not convincing at all.â
âItâs justâŠâ He begins and trails, biting his lower lip, âitâs⊠itâs why I went here. Why I went here to see and meet you, I mean.â
You unconsciously recoil at the revelation. Itâs certainly a rookie mistake to believe that there was no ulterior motive in Jungkook meeting you today. You just didnât reckon youâd actually be truly disappointed at thatâat the idea that he just didnât randomly decide to visit and be with you earlier until now.
You draw a long breath. âWell, I knew you werenât just feeling generous and wanted to treat me to dinner out of nowhere.â
Thereâs a pause and then he resumes. âJustâbefore I say it, you have to hear me out, okay? You have to let me explain before you berate me.â
âI canât promise that either.â
âYou have to.â
âWhy do I have to?â
âBecause what Iâm about to say is for your own sake. You know I always have your best interest at heart, donât you?â
You wrinkle your forehead in further confusion. âCan you just get on with it? The vagueness is making me more annoyed.â
âI just donât want you to misunderstand.â
âMisunderstand what?â
âWhat Iâand Seowonâgenuinely think is the best option.â
âOh, and Seowon is in on this too?â You bellow. âHave you and Seowon just been conspiring behind my back the whole time?â
âCalm down.â Jungkook puts his hands on your shoulders, a chuckle inevitably escaping him. âIâm sorry for dragging it out. You should know Iâm high key afraid of you, thatâs why.â
âYou should be.â You grumble.
Another chuckle, but heâs back to appearing anxious. You want to shout that this isnât healthy, that youâre close to giving him a real reason to be afraid of youâyet once he blurts the confession out, youâre speechless, gawking at him and staggering backwards in complete shock. Perhaps you would have bolted as far away from him as possible if not for his solid grasp.
âWhat?â You hiss.
He swallows hard.
âI want you to marry me, ____.â
You donât bolt away running. You shake off his hold on you though, and before he gets another word in, youâre hastily rushing inside your apartment and slamming the door to his face.
****
Jungkook was your first kiss.
It happened in a game of truth and dare. You were at a party of a mutual friend and when the bottle miserably pointed in Jungkookâs direction, the person who was tasked to think of his dare when it was his pick said that he dared him to do 7 minutes in heaven with you.Â
He profusely refused at first, especially since Seowon was in the same party, but everybody began booing and next thing you know, Jungkook was agreeing as long as it was fine with you. When you nodded to make your consent apparent, your friends were quick to shove you both in the closet, some of them pulling Seowon back who was complaining how it wasnât right to bully you into doing 7 minutes in heaven with Jungkook. They calmed him down once they bullied him into agreeing too.
âWe donât have to do anything,â Jungkook told you in the darkness, his breath fawning over your face. âYou donât have to feel pressured. Itâs just a stupid game.â
You blushed.
Secretly, you were hoping that heâd kiss you or touch you. Who didnât want to do anything with their crush at the age of 15? A lot can happen in 7 minutes. You were aware that sometimes people made out, went as far as third base, and although you didnât want to go that far with Jungkook, you wanted something to happen while you were stuck in this small closet with him. There werenât a lot of instances that put both of you in this kind of situation; you wished that you were brave enough to ask him to kiss you or do the first move yourself.
5 minutes in, Jungkook turned towards you.
âIs it true that Taehyung kissed you last week?â
You whipped your head so fast that you might have given yourself whiplash. âThatâsâthatâs not true. Where did you hear that?â
âDuring homeroom. Some girls were talking about it.â
Your cheeks burned. âOh.â
âSo, itâs not true?â
âNo.â You shook your head. âI havenât even had my first kiss yet.â You laughed weakly.
It was his turn to seem stunned. âYou havenât had your first kiss yet?â
You shook your head again, then realized he might not see you doing so. âNot yet.â
âWant me to change that?â he asked, grinning.
He said that with a boyish grin and teasing tone, but you sucked at social cues (plus, you really couldnât see shit that much) that you started nodding.
âOkay,â you told him.
âHuh?â
âYou can kiss me.â
âOh, oh, shitâI didnâtââ He was blabbering, about to take back what he offered. âI mean, I was just joking butââ
You widen your eyes. âYou were? Oh my God, Iâm sorry, I thought you wereââ
âNo, it was my fault. That was a little out of line for me. Iâm sorry.â He was laughing and you felt like burying yourself 6 feet under. âIt was a stupid thing to say. But if you want me to kiss you, itâs cool.â
âIt is?â Hope sparked within you.
âYeah. Itâll just be a peck anyway.â You can tell he was smiling through his voice. âJust donât tell Seowon because he might punch me in the face for kissing his sister.â
You cackled. âDeal.â
56 seconds before the 7 minutes were up, Jungkook leaned down to match your level and placed his lips on yours.Â
****
Youâre seething with rage, the embodiment of Godzilla, channeling the God of War, Ares, in your body; you harshly press Seowonâs number on your phone to call him and he answers after three rings.
âWhatâs up?â
âI will fucking murder you,â you snarl.
A beat. You hear shuffling. Then he answers, âyou already talked with Jungkook?â
The nonchalance and calmness in his voice drives you to be more frustrated than you already are. âYes, I have! What is wrong with you? Why would you plant that idea on his head?â You yell, not caring that your walls are thin and that your voice can probably be heard by the couple that lived next door. Youâre feeling a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and every negative emotion that exists at the moment. Youâre comparable to a bull who just saw the color red.
â____, it wonât be a big deal if you donât make it to be.â
âAre you hearing yourself right now?â
âDid you even let Jungkook explain?â
âI donât need him to spell everything out. I know why heâs asking me to marry him.â
âThen you know too that itâd be good for you.â
âMarrying him wonât be good for me.â
âWhy not?â
âIt just wonât!â
âYouâll get health insurance benefits that you donât get with your current jobs. You can pay less rent once you move in at Jungkookâs placeâthereâs a huge chance he wonât even let you pay him while you stay there too. Heâs away most of the time anyway, so staying there wouldnât be a problem. Plus, you can start studying for a masters degree like youâve always wanted.â
You groan. âNot like this. This is crazy.â
âThe both of you can divorce once youâve saved up a little. It really isnât that complicated.â
âItâs a sham marriage!â
âItâs a sham marriage with Jungkook.â
âThat doesnât make it better.â
âAre you sure? Your grade school diary might disagree.â
âOh my God, thatâs fucking low of you to bring that up. You just gave me another reason to hate you.â You stomp around the living room, acting like a teenager because of your brotherâs behavior. This isnât the first time he revealed that heâs read your diary before; that doesnât mean itâs less infuriating to be reminded that he has. âI swear, you better fucking sleeping with one eye open tonight. Iâm choking you to death.â
Seowon laughs out loud. âJust marry him. Heâs surprisingly amicable with the idea.â
âThatâs because youâre pressuring him! I bet you and Mom devised this entire thing together.â
âMom doesnât know. To be fair, sheâd probably have the same reaction as you. Itâs all me and Jungkook.â
âWow. You have two brains and yet none of you thought this was goddamn stupid?â
âItâs not stupid. Itâs genius if you come to think of it,â he says. âJungkook just wants to help you, dude. He wants to make sure youâll be okay and all that shit. Youâre the reason he filed for a two-week leave, did he tell you?â
Your heart does that jumping thing again. âNo.â
âWell, he did. Heâs on a break for two weeks because he wants to convince you to marry him and actually marry you within that time frame.â
âThis is nuts.â You sigh, finally flopping down the sofa and rubbing your face with your free hand. âThe both of you are nuts. How are you okay with this?â
âItâs Jungkook. I trust him. Donât you?â
âOf course, I do, I justââ you cut yourself off and frown, âI just feel like itâs unfair for him. Iâm marrying him because of military spouse benefits and what does he get?â
Thereâs a long pause, and you almost check your phone to see whether Seowon has already hung up on you or not.
âItâs better that Jungkook answers that question,â he tells you finally.
âWhy? You canât answer it on behalf of him?â
âSomething like that.â You can imagine him shrugging. âAll I know is that heâs genuinely concerned about your health and your financial status right now. So, just think about it, okay?â
âGod, fuck it, fine. Iâll think about it.â You grimace.
You hang up and glance at the door.
You donât think the conversation you just had with Seowon took that much time. The initial rush you had upon having your longtime crush propose to you is wearing off and youâre realizing that it was a dick move to literally slam the door right in Jungkookâs face earlier, leading you to stand up from your seat and look through the peephole to check if heâs still there.
He isnât, which you sigh in relief at.
As you lean against the door and regulate your breathing, you think how funny it is that Seowon is right about one thingâand that was grade school you would have been delighted at the thought of getting married to Jungkook. Heâs your dream guy; your parents loved him, his parents loved you, the both of you got along very well, and his personality and looks are everything that youâre looking for in a partner. It sucks that you live in a world where the only reason he wants to marry you is because heâs afraid youâll die because of self-neglect.Â
Your phone pings and you unlock the screen to look at the message that flashes on it.
Jungkook: hey, seowon just messaged me to say that you two already talked Jungkook: iâm sorry for jumping on you with a topic like that⊠Jungkook: iâm shit at confrontation lol Jungkook: also itâs the first time iâm proposing so give me some slack
You scoff at his audacity to joke about it this soon.
You: itâs okay You: iâm sorry too for what i did You: the answer is no btw
Jungkook: already??? Jungkook: letâs talk about it first
You: no need You: i donât want to marry you
Jungkook: oof thatâs harsh
You: sorry not sorry?
He doesnât respond and you think youâre safe. Maybe Jungkook does take no for an answer and youâre confused because youâre a little disappointed that heâs not falling on his knees, begging you to marry him like what your imagination is supplying you.
However, after you took a shower and went to check your phone again, you see that Jungkook messaged you a few minutes ago in response to your last message.
Jungkook: give me 10 days and iâll change your mind
You have the urge to go take a shower again because of how hot your body is feeling at the statement.
You: hate to break it to you but youâre not matthew mcconaughey
Jungkook: đ€Łđ€Łđ€Ł
****
Itâs not part of Jungkookâs branding to chase a woman. Typically, women chase him; they chase him in every city and country that he gets stationed in, flirting with him and hoping that theyâll get the chance to take him home for the night for a mindblowing one-night stand. They never succeed though, for despite their pretty faces and sultry gestures, Jungkook only smiles and declines every offer, saying that he had a girl waiting back home that he loved very much.
He used to think that he only used that as an excuse because heâs not the type to hook up with every attractive girl he meets. There are times when he succumbs, when he gives into the temptation of a little fun, especially after a life threatening or highly stressful missionâbut most of the time, he thinks he declines and use that pronouncement of his because his mind reverts him to the idea of you, to what would happen if he just gained the balls to ask you out.
Evidently, although asking you out and asking you to marry him are two completely different things, heâs a bit afraid that your answer will always be a hard no. Itâs what youâve been literally spelling out to him since the day he presented the idea, regardless of how heâs trying his best in swooning you or explaining how this is the perfect plan to help you gain an upper hand with your diagnosis.
âIâll file a restraining order against you, Iâm serious,â you say to him when he appears yet again outside the faculty room, waiting for you to gather your things and head home. Youâre wearing a white button up shirt and pinstripe wide leg trousers, an outfit combination that he ogles at before he goes down to business.
âYou wouldnât.â He glares at you. He gestures for you to let him take your backpack, and despite what you said, you let him. âAlso, what the fuck is in this thing? Youâll break your back if you keep using this.â He swings your backpack on one shoulder.
You laugh. âMy laptop, its charger, a couple of notebooks, books, pens, then the outputs of my students.â
âArenât they supposed to submit virtually? What happened to Google Classroom?â
âI still use it, but sometimes I like to have their work printed out so I can write the comments better. How do you know Google Classroom?â
âI have a squadronmate whose kid uses it for class.â
âAh.â You nod in understanding.
You two continue walking forward.
This has been your program for the past few days. Jungkook goes to the university you work at, heâll wait outside, youâll threaten him with something ridiculous, heâll take your bag, heâll offer to take you to dinner, youâll decline, and then heâll drive you home anyways. Before that routine ends, heâll lean on your door frame and give you his best puppy eyes, asking you to marry him for the sake of your welfare, and youâll scowl at him, insisting that you donât need his help to survive.
âDinner?â he asks, right on schedule.
You glance at him. âNo. I want to go home and sleep for 12 hours.â
âBusy day?â
âYep.â
âYou know, if you marry me, you wonât have to work two jobs and overexert yourself.â
He doesnât need to turn to you to know that youâre giving him a dirty look. âI wonât marry you, Jungkook.â
âWhy not?â
âBecause marriage doesnât work that way.â
âIt does. Billionaires do it all the time. The mafia does it too. Itâs always been some kind of transaction.â
âWell, if I marry you, what do you get?â
âThe assurance youâre taken care of.â
âThatâs cheesy.â
You share a laugh and he grins.
âItâs true,â he says. âIâll be fine as long as you are.â
He waits for you to quip back a reply, flickering his eyes to you when it takes longer than usual. Instead of the sneer heâs expecting, you appear to be flustered, an expression that is very recognizable for him whoâs known you since foreverâan expression that makes it too obvious for Jungkook that the crush you had on him that he thought has been long gone was still there. Heâs been seeing it a lot lately, particularly when heâs uttering lines that sound flirtatious on purpose; heâs positive that youâll threaten to kill him when you discover that he basks on the fact that he can still make you all flustered and cute, which encourages him to do and say anything that would elicit a reaction from you. Was it unethical to seduce you into marrying him? He might have to rethink that part too.
Reaching the parking lot, he unlocks the doors to his vehicle and places your bag inside the backseat. He watches you walk around the car, about to go to the passengerâs side, but then you wobble a bit and his attempt to get inside is instantly forgotten.
âHey,â he strides to where you are, gazing at you as you now hold onto the hood, âyou alright?â
You raise your chin up. âKook, can you get my bag?â
Jungkook doesnât need to be told twice. Heâs swinging the door again and getting your bag from the other end of the backseat while you get on the passengerâs seat, keeping the door wide and placing your legs outside, your feet planted on the concrete.
âWhat do you need?â he asks, crouching in front of you and zipping the bag open.
âGlucometer.â
He halts. âWhat does that look like?â
âItâs in the yellow bag. There.â You point at it right when he rummages through a certain part.
He brings it out and you take it from his grasp. Your movements are sluggish but he can discern that youâre doing your best not to be too slow; heâd present to help but he knows that he might prolong what youâre doing due to his cluelessness, so he just observes, noting how youâre pricking your finger with a device and then pressing it lightly to the glucometer which shows that your blood sugar is low.
âApple juice,â you mutter to him and he finds it faster than the last one.
You grab the juice pouch from his grasp, prying the straw attached on the back, pushing its end for it to pop out of its plastic coverâthen your hand shakes, preventing you from continuing and punching in the straw properly.
âLet me do it,â he says.
You donât fight him, you just slump against the seat as Jungkook picks up from where you left, and the moment he does the job and guides the straw to your awaiting lips, a long exhale through your nose escapes you.
âHow are you feeling?â he whispers. He didnât notice that he was holding his breath the entire duration of the scene.
Another sigh. âBetter.â
âDoes this happen a lot?â
You seem to hesitate. âNot a lot. Just when life gets a bit too hectic.â
â____ââ
âJust take me home.â You donât give him the chance to lecture you. âPlease, Jungkook.â
Defeated, he nods. âAlright.â
âThank you.â
He helps you position yourself properly on the passengerâs seat. âBut weâre talking about this at your place.â
Before you can protest, he closes the door.
****
Lee Hyunwoo was the name of the guy that you brought home for Christmas Eve eight years ago. It was the first time that you did, and Jungkook hated how Hyunwoo was considerably handsome, intelligent, and kindâthe exact kind of person he always imagined you deserved.
In the short time Hyunwoo spent with theirs and your family that night, everybody loved him and was already inviting him to the next gathering, all the while Jungkook avoided him at every cost, puzzled by this strong dislike he was feeling for your guest. He was annoyed at the manner in which Hyunwoo had an arm around your waist the entire evening, how you grinned up to him, eyes sparkling and all that shit. Hell, you used to look at him like that.
âHoney, can you get the mango float we have in our freezer?â Jungkook heard your mother tell you, and without thinking, he stood up from his chair and made a beeline to where you were, telling you heâd accompany you to your house.
âThatâs fine,â you told him. âItâs literally next door.â
âYeah, but it might be heavy.â
âItâs not.â
âBetter safe than sorry.â
You rolled your eyes and agreed then, excusing yourself from Hyunwoo who was in an engaged conversation with Seowon. The pair were geeking out because of their mutual love for the MCU and the next film slated to be released the following year.
Upon arriving at your home, you dashed to the kitchen with Jungkook trudging behind you. He wasnât sure what his next course of action should be now; all he wanted was some alone time with you, away from the presence of that college boyfriend of yours, but now that he had that, he couldnât think of anything that he wanted to say or do. He wasnât even sure why he was feeling a bit jealousâwas it because of that saying? Wherein people are bound to want what they canât have? Or was it that you only appreciate what you had when youâve already lost it?
âHow long have you and Hyunwoo been dating?â he asked, leaning against the counter as you pulled your freezer open.
âFour months, I think.â
âFour months? And you already brought him home?â
You snorted at his tone. âHis family is in another country so I thought itâd be nice to invite him.â
âYou must really like him then.â
âYeah, but Iâm not in love with him or anything.â You placed the mango float on the space beside Jungkook on the counter. âHeâs nice, and he likes me too.â
âDoes he treat you well?â
You flashed your eyes at him, amusement dancing in them. âWhatâs with that question?â
âWhatâs with it?â
âNothing, itâs just thatâŠâ you trailed, a smirk etched on your face. âWait a minute, are you⊠you canât possiblyââ Jungkook was widening his eyes, ready to deny your accusation once you questioned whether he was jealous of Hyunwoo or notâ âare you pulling an overprotective brother skit on me, Kook?â
Fuck, thank God, he thought.
âI prefer âoverprotective friend skitâ,â he said.
âThat doesnât have a nice ring to it.â
âBut Iâm not your brother.â
âYou donât have to be, Iâm just saying that you and Seowon have been acting similar since Hyunwoo and I arrived.â
âNonsense. Seowon likes him.â
âOh, so you donât?â
He pressed his lips into a tight line.
âDid you just admit that you donât like Hyunwoo?â you asked, chuckling. He was grateful that you didnât seem to be offended by it.
âI didnât say I didnât like him.â
âInstead you implied it.â
âNo, I didnât.â
âYou kinda did.â
He heard you laugh and he couldnât help but allow himself to laugh as well.
âIâm sorry,â he apologized. âMaybe Iâm just not used to you dating anyone. You are chronically single.â
âCanât say youâre wrong.â You snorted and picked up from the mango float, marching back to his house and gesturing for him to follow you.
He did, no words spoken between the both of you once more. Though when you were entering their place again, with Jungkook holding the door open for you, he mentioned something he never reckoned heâd have the guts to mention out loud.
âWhen you open my gift,â he began, âdonât do it in front of Hyunwoo, okay?â
âWhy not?â You werenât paying attention to where you were going, intrigued by his warning.
âHe might not like it. Youâll see.â
That night, at the comfort of your bedroom, Hyunwoo nowhere near but instead sleeping at the coach downstairs in your living room, you opened Jungkookâs gift and saw that it was a necklace with your birth flower as its pendant.
You smiled, rolling your eyes to yourself, and slept with that giddy look never leaving your face.
****
âNot so fast,â Jungkook grunts.
Did he think that you were going to be less difficult since he was helpful earlier? Yeah, he did. He likes to think that if it wasnât for him, you would have taken longer in feeding yourself with apple juice, so he at least wanted a thank you in the form of your willingness to have an adult conversation with him tonight. However, that clearly isnât the case because when he walked you up to your apartment like he always did, youâre attempting to lock him out, shutting the door as fast as you can once youâre inside, thus trying to prevent him from initiating that talk he wanted the two of you to have.
âSeriously?â He successfully pries the door open and you scowl at him.
âJungkookââ
âNo, you donât get to reason your way out of this. Iâm done hearing you out. Itâs your turn to listen to me.â He steps inside your apartment.
You groan, striding to the sofa and throwing your bag there. âYou canât force me to marry you.â
âIs marrying me so fucking bad that you canât get over it for health insurance benefits that can really help you?â He demands, infuriated.Â
âThatâs not the issue.â
âThen what is?â
âYou can get arrested!â you exclaim. âAnd so can I! Does that not freak you out?â
âWeâll only get arrested if we get caught.â
âIâm not willing to take the risk.â
âIâm not willing to see you die.â
You scoff out a laugh. âWho the fuck said anything about dying? Iâm not dying.â
âYou almost passed out on me. You almostââ
âItâs an error on my part, I admit.â You sigh. âWhen I get busy and preoccupied, sometimes I forget to check my sugar levels regularly throughout the day. Iâm sorry.â
âAnd you expect to be convinced that you have everything handled?â
âGod, Iâm not a child. Stop treating me like I canât do shit for myself.â
âPlease, ___,â he approaches you with the most pleading expression he can muster, and he watches as your hard expression crumbles, âjust accept my help. Itâs really not a big dealâyou wonât even see me often, so keeping up with the whole marriage ploy wouldnât be difficult. Weâll divorce in two years, we can pretend we never got married after that.â
âYou just donât get it, donât you?â
âWhat do I not get? If you think I donât understand something, then explain it to meââ
âI canât marry you,â you say. You do so like itâs final, like thereâs no point in arguing with you because he can never change your stand on this. As heâs pleading with his eyes to urge you to agree, youâre communicating with your eyes in a similar way thatâs wishing he would just drop this. âItâs wrong.â
His eyebrows furrow. âThis isnât the time to go on your high horse and decide whatâs wrong and whatâs not. Itâs a fraudulent marriageâof course, itâll be wrong to some degree.â
âNo, I meanâŠâ You turn away from him, rubbing your face in exhaustion. âItâd be wrong of me to marry you. Iâm taking advantage of you if I do, and I donât like that.â
Jungkook shakes his head, frustration worsening at the childlike excuse. Surely, you werenât that naive, were you? âYouâre not. Iâm not doing this against my own will. Besides, we get extra pay just for being married. If it makes you feel better, I wonât split it with you.â
âThat wonât make me feel better.â
âThen what will?â
You flop down on the coach and lean back, closing your eyes. He knows heâs being a pain in the ass but he canât just stand here and do nothing. He thinks heâs already come too far in convincing you, he isnât going to back out now. Every single day spent together, he can feel you warming up to the idea of marrying him for health insurance. Your connection and entirety of your relationship has been off the charts recently that itâll be harder for him not to be assured that before he leaves for his job, youâll be taken care off.
Jungkook goes to the spot beside you, sitting down. Your knees bump together, he keeps on gazing at you, waiting for you to focus on him; a minute passes and his gaze moves to your hand thatâs laying on the small space between you.
Without overthinking, he stretches out and clasps it, allowing his fingers to play with yours that finally captures your attention. The moment he glances up, he sees that youâre staring at him and he doesnât let go, he even smiles, a quiet promise that heâs always willing to listen to whatever you want to tell him.
You hesitantly smile back. âYou know,â your eyes train back to your intertwined fingers, Jungkook reveling in the warmth of your skin, gaining more confidence in acting out his feelings, âthere was a time wherein I would have said yes immediately if you asked me to marry you.â
He smirks, canât deny how hearing that inflates his ego a bit although this route in the conversation isnât where he expected to go. âWhat changed?â
âFor one, I grew up.â
âOuch.â
You laugh. Then you stay quiet for a while before speaking. âCan I confess something?â
That piques his interest. âAnything.â
âBut you have to promise not to make fun of me.â
âThatâs impossible.â He teases. âWhat is it?â
You stall, readjusting your position so that you can directly face him. Jungkook doesnât let go of your hand, he keeps it in his grasp, his thumb rubbing along the expanse of your knuckles.
âI like you, Jungkook. I really really do,â you finally say and he blinks, startled.
It shouldnât surprise him, considering that itâs been long established that he knew of your crush already, though he doesnât seem to have anticipated for you to boldly admit it when all these years, itâs only been some kind of unspoken understanding that neither of you downright acknowledged.
You continue speaking. âIn fact, I like you so much that maybe it developed into love at some pointâIâm not sure. Iâm at this stage of no longer being afraid of what I feel, I think? Most of the time, I just let it occur like itâs something so natural. Like itâs a feeling that I can never get away from? Like whatever I do, thereâs no way to shake you.â You chuckle half-heartedly. âThough never in a million years would I have thought that Iâd confess all of this. What for anyway? I donât want you to be burdened with what my teenage heart couldnât rub out.â
His mind is racing; hundred thoughts, hundred scenarios, hundred experiences heâs spent with you since the day you met. Jungkook never realized how much he needed you to say that you liked himâthat maybe you even loved himâuntil he heard it from your very mouth that you did, causing every inhibition and doubt he had to vanish. Now, he only wants to engulf you in an embrace and shout Yes, I feel the same way! Sorry for being a fucking corward and not doing this first!
He would have done all of that in a flash if it didnât appear that you still had something to say. Based on your rather constipated posture and the hand heâs holding thatâs becoming clammy, he discerns that youâre just in the first part of what you wanted to admit.
âActually, thatâs also why I canât let myself marry you,â you say. âI know it sounds ridiculous, but I donât know⊠it feels really icky somehow. I feel like Iâm holding you hostage, or that Iâm tricking you because of an ulterior motive, or that Iâm defying the laws of the universe by having the chance to marry you. Iâm not sure. I just know that I donât want to marry you if it means Iâll only get to do so because you think youâre doing me a huge favor. I donât want to be your charity case, KookâI deserve to be more than that, you know? Iâm not traditional or whatever but if itâs not for love, Iâm not keen on getting married.â You abruptly pull away from his clutch, embarrassment washing on your features by what you stated. âPlus, two years might not be that long but what happens when you meet someone and you like her? How can you explain that youâre only married to me because I need it for my medication? Itâll just be unnecessarily messy. I donât want to hold you back from those kinds of things. I donât want to be a hindrance.â
Thatâs his cue. Thatâs when he knows heâs supposed to kiss you and take your breath away, to admit that heâs certain that he has loved you since that one time when he was in the Naval Academy and although the training was hard as fuck, the thought of you gave him strength and he didnât want to see anyone as much as he wanted to see you afterâthat when you and Seowon visited him, that familiar urge to have you alone was all he felt the entire time, solidifying the idea that perhaps he didnât just see you as a friend.
âYouâre unbelievably dense, ___,â he murmurs, smirking at the play of events, and you glance at him, expression showing disbelief that heâs somehow treating this matter lightly.
âWhat?â
âDo you honestly think I go around and offer marriage to every woman out there who can benefit from being a military spouse? Do you think Iâm that generous? Iâm not. I wouldnât ask anyone to marry me for the same reason if they werenât important to meâor if I didnât like them. Iâm not that much of a saint,â he adds. âI mean, Iâm taking a two-week break to convince you to marry me. Iâm spending time with you every single day. Iâm driving for almost an hour and a half, enduring the traffic to get from my apartment to the university you work in to do thatâand you think this is because I want to be charitable?â
Silence. Your forehead wrinkles. He thinks youâre still not getting the point.
âIâm in love with you, ____,â Jungkook says.
Your breath hitches in your throat. Youâre opening your mouth, then closing it, then opening it again, then pressing it into a thin line. He thinks you look cute, being taken aback like this, and heâs wishing that heâs done this sooner so that the last five days of him chasing you around like a lost puppy was spent with talking more about whatâs possibly waiting for yours and his relationship next.
âAre you serious?â you ask after what seems like forever. âOr are you just saying that because youâre that desperate to have me on board with the whole fraudulent marriage thing?â
âGodââ Heâs inching closer to you now, laughing, watching your lips twitch at his reactionâ âIâm convinced that you were born into this earth to drive me fucking crazy.â
And just like that, he no longer restrains himself from kissing you.
It takes you a few good seconds before you will yourself to move. You canât seem to process the reality of Jungkook admitting that he was in love with you and then taking the liberty to plant his lips on yours. Youâre not complaining, of course, but you are a bit overwhelmed that it literally makes you freeze, unaware of what youâre supposed to do now that your fantasies are coming into life.
However, once you feel him angle his head to the side, doing so to deepen the kiss, your reflexes kick in and youâre kissing him back, encircling your arms around his neck and leaning towards him, Jungkook sighing in what appears to be relief. He grips your hips to support you as you try to straddle him, but your movements are so clumsy that you end up sprawling against his chest instead, perched on a leg of his that provides pleasure on the spot you need him the most. He chuckles at your lack of gracefulness, gliding his lips to your cheek and down to your jaw, nipping.
âThis okay?â he whispers with a palm drifting to your bottom.
You nod and Jungkookâs mouth is back on yours in an instant. He squeezes your ass, takes his time in fondling with it, cheekily slapping whenever you get brave yourself and push your tongue past his lips, before he skims his hand lower to your thigh and signals for you to mount him. Upon being properly sat on his lap, you get an immediate feel of his hard length through his jeans, prompting your imagination to run wild and induce the filthiest things he can do to you if neither of you stops.
âHoly shit,â he curses, your kisses roaming to the base of his throat where you lap and suck.
It becomes a dirty pattern for a while. The both of you will take a brief pause from making out to remove a piece of clothing or kiss every other exposed skin there is: the cheek, the jaw, the neck, the collarbones, the shoulders. Then one of you hauls the other back for another passionate kiss, hands skating everywhere on your bodies, sounds of arousal echoing inside the room; youâre starting to get lightheaded but youâre positive itâs not because of your sugar levels running low.
âI hate that it took us so long to get to this point,â he mutters.
You grin. âIâm sorry.â
âDonât apologize. Iâm the manâI should have confessed long ago.â
âWhy didnât you?â
âI donât know. âWas afraid to lose you, I guess.â He draws his head back and admires your blissed out expression. âBut then when Seowon told me you had diabetes, I panicked and thought that I might lose you either way.â
You go back to making out, Jungkook guiding your hips in grinding on his clothed length. Itâs addictiveâthe intimate feel of him, how heâs not shy in making sure you know how much heâs craving to be as close to you as you are to him. You think you can spend the whole night just doing this and be okay with it.
âFuck, Kook,â you groan against his mouth, a hand descending to his stomach and to his manhood, âyouâre so⊠so fuckinâ hard.â
Youâre palming him now, tracing the erection evident under his boxers.
He lets out a grunt. âYeah, baby, I know.â
âDo you⊠do you want meââ Youâre breathless, not able to continue whatever it is that you want to say.
He understands you just fine though. âNo.â He shakes his head. âDonât do anything.â
Youâre not sure what Jungkook means by that. How are you supposed to do nothing when you want to do everything to him? You soon comprehend what he means when he guides you to lay down on the sofa, when his lips skim lower and lower, passing your breasts, giving them the attention they deserve, until he goes lower than that and discards your underwear, kissing you in between your legs.
Itâs like heâs releasing all the pent up emotions heâs been keeping all these years. His tongue and fingers are relentless, his voice is telling you that heâs eager to coax an orgasm out of you, and as he lifts himself up to return to his previous position, face hovering yours, youâre positive that heâll get everything he wants because without a doubt youâll give him everything he wants from you too. Hell, if he uses this opportunity to ask you to marry him again, you might answer yes straight away, no longer bearing in mind the worries you expressed to him earlier.
Although did that even matter anymore? Jungkook said he loved you. He said you drove him crazy. You never thought youâd come to see the day heâd utter those words but here you are. The man of your dreams is kissing you, pleasing you, and looking damn enthusiastic as he does all of that.
âLast chance to stop me,â Jungkook teases. His eyes are glassy and you can feel his cock nudging on your thigh.
You giggle, bringing his head closer to press another long kiss on those pink and plump lips of his. âPlease never stop.â
âNever?â
âNever.â
âIâm going to take you up on that.â
âPlease do.â
After this night, youâre certain that youâll never allow yourself to be with another man aside from Jungkook. At the back of your head, you always thought that you were his, regardless if that wasnât true or that there was no real relationship to prove thatâhowever, at this moment, as he thrusts in and out languidly, you unquestionably know that you are. You belong to him now and he belongs to you; he lets you know through his love-filled gaze, his passionate kisses, and the manner wherein he moans your name.
âI love you,â he says, like heâs still in deep longing for your touch and affection.
You hum, tangling your fingers through the strands of his hair. âI love you, Kook.â You stare at his eyes. âI canât remember a time I didnât.â
A boyish grin erupts on his features.
Time passes by quickly. In a few more of his kisses, of the intoxicating slam of his hips, of his seductive whimpers, youâre coming beneath him, Jungkook pulling out and jerking his length until he too comes, his seed landing on the base of your tummy. You have the nerve to giggle at that, grinning at him with low-lidded eyes, and Jungkook hastily wipes his cum off your skin, attacking you with another passionate kiss that leaves you breathless.
âThereâs no way youâre not marrying me after this,â he murmurs.
You teasingly graze your teeth on his bottom lip. âIâll think about it.â
He groans. âDonât think about it. Just say yes.â
âAt least let me sleep on it, Kook.â
âFuckâfine.â He grabs your sides and pulls you flush against his body. âGuess Iâll have to keep on convincing you until you agree.â
****
âGod, why is this so difficult?â Jungkook whines, keeping you in his embrace, head tucked between your cheek and shoulder.
The air is very humid and Jungkookâs in his naval aviator uniform, which doesnât look cool in a sense that air is properly flowing through the material. He doesnât care though, doesnât care that itâs sticking to his skin as he refuses to let you go, not even when you complain playfully.
âKook, Iâm fucking sweaty.â
âI donât care.â
You laugh.Â
Heâs leaving to return to his duty and youâre here with him outside the base before he enters, being with him until the last possible minute because thatâs how much of a good wife you are.
Yes, you and Jungkook did get married. Three days ago in fact, at the city hallâs courtroom. Neither of you invited your parents; they didnât know about the occasion and you refused to tell them, afraid that they may be critical about yours and his choices when they discover the true reason why youâre rushing to be wed. The only people that remained to be aware of it was Seowon and his girlfriend, Winnie, who served as the witnesses, which was fine by you. In your understanding, this was just for the papers and your health, and not the real deal yet to be celebrated lavishly.
âIâll propose to you again after a couple of years,â Jungkook promised after the ceremony. âLetâs renew our vows and Iâll give you an amazing wedding.â
You would have told him that there was no need, but who were you kidding? You did want a proper wedding with Jungkook. The previous week didnât even feel like you were newlyweds. Yes, the both of you compacted all of the dates you could have if one of you werenât such a chicken in five days, and yes, though the honeymoon stage was experienced and practicedâit was only because you were a new couple who after years of hiding their feelings for one another, was now finally free to express it as much as they desired.
âCall me everyday?â you ask when he finally pulls back, Jungkook pecking your lips one more time.
âDefinitely.â He smiles. âVisit me whenever possible?â
âOf course.â You kiss him too.
His smile transforms into a grin. âTake care of yourself, alright? Keep me updated all the time. No sugarcoating allowed.â
âYes, Lieutenant.â
Rolling his eyes, he gives you another kiss and engulfs you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground that causes you to giggle.
âOkay, pack it up, love birds!â Seowon shouts.
The two of you turn to your brother whoâs leaning on his car, the vehicle that was used to transport the three of you today. Youâre still in the middle of moving your belongings at Jungkookâs place and Seowon was kind enough to volunteer helping, always dubious that you could do stuff on your own. Despite your reluctance, you let him assist you, mostly because youâre trying to make a conscious effort in not upsetting him again.
Letâs just say that when the judge hailed you husband and wife at the civil wedding, Seowon wasnât thrilled to see that the kiss shared between you and Jungkook wasnât as fake as the supposed sham marriage, leading him to the conclusion that in the middle of Jungkookâs ruse of convincing you to be his wife, something must have happened that led to your approval and that rather 18+ rated kiss. Mostly though, heâs just offended that neither of you thought of telling him that you were an official couple before the wedding.
Jungkook unwillingly places you down.
âI think I need to go,â you say.
He nods with a sigh. âIâll miss you.â
âIâll miss you too.â
âCall you tomorrow?â
âYes.â You affectionately caress his cheek, bringing his face down for the very very very last kiss.Â
He leans into it. âFuck, I donât want to leave.â
âSeriouslyâhurry up!â Seowon shouts and you pull back.
âI will kill him,â you tell Jungkook.
âHeâs your brother,â he says. âAnd now, my brother-in-law, so I canât let you do that.â
âThat might be your very first red flag, Jungkook, insinuating that youâre choosing my brother over me.â You cross your arms. âTell me, if the both of us were drowning, would you save me or Seowon?â
âYou,â he answers without missing a beat.
You narrow your eyes. âIs that the truth?â
âOf course. Seowon would probably undrown himself anyway and youâre shit at swimming. Itâs an easy choice.â
You punch him hard on the shoulder and he feigns hurt, snickering. âFor the record, I donât think anyone can âundrownâ themselvesâbut fine, you pass the test.â
Jungkook faces Seowonâs direction and does a final salute, your brother returning it swiftly, and just like that, you and him share your last farewells. You watch as he goes through the entrance of the base and sends you a wave of goodbye; you weakly copy the gesture and stand there for a few seconds, just watching him fade from your view the further he trudges inside. You donât think saying goodbye to him ever felt this heavy, and you blame it on the fact that after all this is the first time youâre saying goodbye to him with the assurance that he loves you tooâand that alone weighs millions.
You spin on your heel and go to Seowon whoâs already in the driverâs seat. As soon as you get in and wear your seat belt, heâs giving you a dirty look.
âWhat?â you ask.
âPlease never do that in front of me again.â
His statement makes you smirk. âWhy? Didnât you want this?â
âWant what?â
âMe and Jungkook to be together.â
âWhen on earth did I say that?â
âYou previously admitted that you were lowkey playing cupid by suggesting that Jungkook marry me for health insurance.â
A short pause. âYeah, but that doesnât mean I have to watch you two reenact a porno every fucking time.â
âWeâre notââ
âYou are. Donât deny it.â He grumbles. âGod, every time I see you two, itâs like Iâm Ross from that one Friends episode where he accidentally sees Monica and Chandler doing it from the window of his apartment.â
âYeah, I remember that.â You laugh. âIn my defense, you havenât seen me and Jungkook actually do the deed soââ
âWait, so the two of you have?â
Your expression drops. His tone is approaching older brother protectiveness territory and youâre quick to attempt diffusing the situation. âI will not dive into that. All Iâm going to say is that Iâm a grown adult and so is Jungkook.â
He grimaces before starting the engine. âYeah, never dive into that. I donât need to hear the details.â
You share a laugh and then silence fills the car.
You press your lips together, looking at him while he backs out from the parking spot. âHey, thanks, by the way. For driving today, and for offering to help me later, and maybe for also never minding your own business.â
You recall how Seowon was the one who couldnât stop worrying about you and finding a solution when you told your family that you had type 1 diabetes. Your parents were concerned, they pestered you for months to force you to accept financial assistance from them, but they gave up soon after. Seowon though? He never did. He persisted through every outburst you had; he tolerated your bitchiness and your dirty looks all the time. Out of everyone in your life, you always felt like regardless of how stubborn and prideful you could be, Seowon was worseâin the best way possible.
A crooked smile illuminates his face. âYouâre my kid sister. Itâs my job to never let you experience peace in your whole life.â
You scoff. âWell, youâre damn great at what you do.â
When you reach Jungkookâs apartment, unloading the boxes and arranging your stuff to its designated places, your heart swells in happiness as the reality sinks in that your life is heading in the right direction after months of feeling hopeless. It drives you to be more thankful to the little things, to the people who were always by your side, to your previous circumstance that although wasnât ideal was still manageable. A lot donât get to have that kind of privilege and you promise yourself that youâll make an effort to find more things to be grateful about from this day forward.
âOh, I forgot to mention,â Seowon approaches in the middle of you arranging your books on Jungkookâs near to empty shelf, âWinnie wanted to give you this. She would have handed it over herself but sheâs going to be busy for the next few days.â
You take the frame from his hand and see that itâs the picture Winnie took of you and Jungkook after the ceremony. Itâs in the restaurant that you ate at to celebrate the civil wedding. Jungkook was grinning at you with an arm around on the backrest of your chair, you were leaning towards him, smiling at the cameraâand the absolute selling point of why this was the best picture ever taken was because of how cake icing was scattered on your faces, places on spots in an artistic manner like it was planted there on purpose for the picture and not because the both of you were being silly that instance.
You think it showcases your relationship with Jungkook marvelously. Itâs playful, itâs sweet, and most of all, it demonstrates how you two are clearly great friends.
âThis is so beautiful, Seowon,â you say.
You immediately send Winnie a heartfelt thank you message for the gift and continue to take a photo of the frame, sending it to Jungkook as well.
Once you hit send, you type out a message to accompany it.
You: look how cute we look đ„č
Youâre certain itâll take hours before he replies so you keep your phone again, going back to staring at the picture which is now placed on one of the shelves. Itâs the sole picture frame you have with Jungkook. In fact, itâs the only picture that Jungkook has in his apartment, and you like to think that this might be the mark of the new beginning youâll have with him. Even though your relationship wouldnât be traditionally explored given his occupation and how heâs most likely going to be away a lot, you donât mind.
If thereâs one thing you really believe in, itâs that waiting for Jungkookâwhether consciously or unconsciouslyâalways brings out the best outcomes.
gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and youâll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter âĄ
#jungkook#jungkook x reader#jungkook imagines#jeon jungkook#jeon jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook imagines#bts#bts imagines#bts x reader#bts drabbles#jungkook drabbles#bts scenarios#jungkook scenarios#jungkook x you#jeon jungkook x you#bts x you#jungkook fanfiction#bts fanfiction#jeon jungkook fanfiction
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'The soldier in the armour' | part i
Marcus Acacius x f!reader
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summary: Lucilla arranged a wedding between you and General Acacius to protect you from Emperor Geta. Acacius doesn't love you but he has swore to protect you.
w.c: 12k>
warnings: power imbalance, age gap, arranged marriage, creep man, suicide attempt, smut, fluff, and angst.
a/n: this is a mix of two requests! I lost one of the requests in my asks so if you see it, please feel free to yell at me haha there is it! đ I wanted to say sorry for taking so long on this, but I made the choice to mix both because I didn't have the time to write separately and I didn't want to make you wait anymore, don't hate me, please.
| dividers by @/saradika-graphics |
There were blurry reminiscent of the life you once had. It wasnât very different from the one you had now, but it wasnât the same either.
The empire seemed at peace back in the day, the sun caressed your skin with the tenderness of a loving mother touch, but now it burnt your skin as if you had been set in a fire.
You remembered your grandfather death.
You recalled your uncleâs death in the arena.
Maximus death, and with him the dream of Rome died, swapping the peace of the empire away.
You recalled a brother. He was your twin, and you remembered loving him.
Lucius.
Your mother had sent him away under sacred protection, with Comodousâs death, he was the next emperor in line.
But you had stay here. After all you were a woman and your blood didnât have the value running through your veins.
You had been forced to live with the faded memories of Lucius's blue eyes, those that mirrored your own somehow, the ones that used to gleam with the particular mischief of a kid. Now, they haunted your dreams like ghosts, a reminder of the bond torn apart by politics and promises of protection.
Each day in the palace felt like a gilded cage rusted by the passage of time, where the air was thick with deceit, and every word spoken seemed laced with hidden agendas. Emperor Getaâs obsession with you had made life unbearable. His attention was suffocating, his gaze lingering too long, his presence a constant reminder of your vulnerability as a woman in the imperial court.
Under his and his brother rules.
And when your mother and the council proposed your marriage to General Acacius, you had resisted. Marriage was meant to be a union of love, not a transaction of protection. That what you were told by her when you were a kid. Yet, as Getaâs obsession grew more unhinged, and whispers of his plans to claim you as his own wife reached your ears, you knew there was no choice.
Lucilla braided your hair, the same way she had been doing it since you were a kid. Her touch was gentle, but her face displayed her worry. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and the occasional quiver in her fingers spoke of the weight they carried on her hands, not just as your mother but as a woman who had maneuvered through the treacherous politics of the empire her entire life.
"My sweet girl," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "I know this is not the life you would have chosen. If I could take your pain and bear it myself, I would."
You turned to look at her, meeting her gaze through the reflection in the mirror. Her eyes, though still fierce, carried a shadow of regret that seemed etched into her very soul. For a moment, you werenât the daughter of a woman which fate as empress, had been stolen, you were just a child looking for comfort in your motherâs arms.
"But you canât," you said, your voice trembling as you tried to hold back the emotions threatening to spill over. "You sent Lucius away, and you kept me here. You say itâs for my protection, but sometimes it feels like Iâve been sacrificed for a safety itâs not real.â
Lucillaâs hands paused in your hair. Her reflection in the mirror faltered, the weight of your words cutting deep. "I sent Lucius away because he was a target," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "I thought once he was older enough, one day he would reclaim what is rightfully his. But you... I couldnât send you away, too. I couldnât lose both of you."
"Instead, you bound me to this place," you said, unable to stop the bitterness in your tone. "To a life I didnât choose, to a marriage that will feel like another cage."
Lucilla moved to face you, her hands resting on your shoulders. "Acacius is a good man," she said firmly. "He may not have been the man of your dreams, but he is a man who will protect you. And I swear to you, I chose him because I saw something in him. Something that told me he would be more than just a shield for youâ
Her words hung heavy in the air, and you didnât respond. Deep down, you knew she believed she was doing the right thing, but it didnât make the ache in your chest any less sharp.
âI wish I was deadâ you whispered to yourself only.
The wedding day arrived cloaked in grandeur, yet it felt suffocatingly hollow. The palace was adorned with gold and crimson, every corner lit by the soft glow of countless lamps. Musicians played melodies meant to celebrate unity, but their music tortured your aching heart. Guests gathered in their finery; faces painted with polite smiles masking their true thoughts. You stood at the heart of it all, draped in a gown of ivory silk embroidered with golden threads, a symbol of wealth and duty, not love.
As you walked towards Acacius, flanked by your mother, the room blurred, as if it wasnât truly real. The man awaiting you at the altar stood tall and composed, his features carved from stone. Acacius wore a ceremonial armor, the white and gold catching the light, but his expression was unreadable. His eyes met yours, steady and unyielding, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered what he truly thought of all this.
The vows were spoken. His voice was deep, calm, and detached. When he slipped the ring onto your finger, his touch was light, almost hesitant. There was no tenderness, no sign of warmth. Only duty. The ceremony ended with applause that echoed in the vast chamber, but the sound felt distant. You were bound now, not by love, but by necessity.
Emperor Geta would stop his courting towards you.
Later that evening, you found yourself alone with him in your new chambers. The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the walls. You sat at the edge of the bed, your hands folded tightly in your lap, while Acacius stood near the window, his back to you. He seemed restless, as if the weight of his armor had been replaced by the burden of this union.
"You donât have to speak to me if you donât wish to," you said quietly, breaking the silence. Your voice was steadier than you expected, though your heart raced. "I know this wasnât your choice any more than it was mine."
He turned then, his gaze settling on you. For a moment, his cold exterior softened, though only slightly. "It wasnât," he admitted, his tone measured, as if he were weighing every word. "But it was necessary. Your mother asked me."
His honesty stung, even if it wasnât unexpected. You nodded, unable to meet his eyes. "My mother,â you echoed, her title feeling heavy in your mouth.
Acacius sighed and ran a hand through his hair, the movement breaking his usual composed demeanor. "This isnât what I imagined for my life either," he said, his voice quieter now. "But Iâve sworn to protect you, and I will. Even if this arrangement feels..." He paused, searching for the right word. "Unnatural."
"Unnatural," you repeated with a bitter smile. "What a lovely way to describe a marriage."
His jaw tightened at your sarcasm, but he didnât respond. Instead, he crossed the room, stopping a few steps away from you. His presence was imposing, yet his movements were deliberate, careful, as if he were afraid of overwhelming you.
"I will do my duty," he said finally, his voice firm but not unkind. "And I will honor you as my wife. But I canât pretend to feel something that isnât there.â
His words were a knife, cutting through the fragile hope you hadnât even realized youâd been clinging to. You swallowed hard and nodded, keeping your gaze fixed on your hands.
"If you need anything, you only have to ask. Iâll be in my chambers." he said. And then he was gone, leaving you alone in the vast, empty room.
That night, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the weight of your new reality pressing down on you. Acaciusâs words echoed in your mind, and though they werenât cruel, they felt colder than any rejection. You couldnât blame him, not really. But that didnât make it hurt any less.
You wished you could close your eyes and be anywhere else. In the gardens with your brother, in the safety of Luciusâs protection, or even in the quiet stillness of a life unbound by imperial chains. But instead, you were here, in this gilded cage, with a husband who was as much a stranger as the walls around you.
The following days were a blur of formality and silence. Acacius remained distant but civil, his actions guided more by duty than emotion. He escorted you through the palace when required, his hand resting lightly on your arm but never lingering. At meals, he was polite, engaging in conversations when prompted but offering little more than what was necessary. You were a pair in appearance, but the gulf between you was undeniable.
Lucilla watched it all silently. She offered no commentary, but her concerned glances betrayed her thoughts. Her belief that Acacius was the right choice remained unwavering, yet even she couldnât deny the strain in your union.
One evening, after the dayâs obligations had ended, you returned to your chambers to find Acacius standing by the window. He was in his tunic, having removed the heavy armor that seemed to weigh him down as much as the marriage itself. His posture was stiff, his shoulders tense as he gazed out into the fading light of dusk.
âDo you regret this?â you asked softly, breaking the silence. The question had been clawing at you for days, and you couldnât keep it bottled up any longer.
Acacius turned to you; his expression unreadable. âRegret isnât the right word,â he said after a pause. âThis wasnât what I wanted, but itâs the path Iâve chosen. I will honor it.â
You crossed the room, stopping a few paces from him. âYou speak of honor as if itâs enough to make this work,â you said, your voice trembling slightly. âBut what about us? Are we just to coexist in silence, fulfilling obligations without ever truly living?â
His brow furrowed, and for a moment, his cold demeanor cracked. âDo you think this is easy for me?â he asked, his tone sharper than you expected. âI didnât ask for this any more than you did. But Iâm trying. Iâm doing everything I can to give you the life you deserve.â
âThe life I deserve?â you echoed, anger bubbling to the surface. âI deserve a life where Iâm not a pawn, where my choices matter. I deserve a marriage built on something more than duty.â
Acacius looked away, his jaw tightening. âAnd yet, here we are,â he said quietly. âBound by something neither of us chose.â
Silence hung between you, heavy and suffocating. You turned away, wrapping your arms around yourself as you tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill. âI didnât ask for this,â you whispered, more to yourself than to him.
âI know,â Acacius said, his voice softening. You felt his presence behind you, and a moment later, his hand rested lightly on your shoulder. âI canât change what brought us here, but I can promise you this; I will protect you. Always.â
âWhy do you donât like me as a person?â you asked, unable to meet his gaze
Acaciusâs hand froze on your shoulder, and for a moment, he didnât respond. The weight of your words hung in the air; unspoken questions laced with vulnerability. Slowly, you turned to face him, your arms still wrapped around yourself as if shielding your heart from the answer you feared.
âWhy donât you like me as a person?â you repeated, your voice trembling. âIs it because you didnât choose this? Because Iâm nothing more than an obligation to you?â
Acaciusâs jaw tightened, his eyes searching yours as if debating whether to speak the truth or spare you further pain. Finally, he exhaled deeply, stepping back to create some space between you. His hand fell to his side, the warmth of his touch fading.
âItâs not that I donât like you,â he began, his voice low and measured, as if choosing his words with care. âYouâre intelligent, strong-willed, and far braver than anyone gives you credit for. But... this isnât about you. It never was.â
Your stomach twisted, the pit forming at his words. âWhat do you mean?â you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
He turned away, running a hand through his dark hair as he stared out of the window. âYour mother,â he said finally, the words falling like stones. âI... I loved her.â
The breath caught in your throat, your chest tightening as if the room had suddenly closed in on you. âWhat?â you managed to choke out, disbelief coloring your tone.
Acacius turned back to you, his expression a mixture of regret and resignation. âLucilla. I loved her long before any of this. Long before Commodus fell, before your world became this mess of alliances and power struggles. But she...â He hesitated, his gaze softening.
âAsked you to marry her daughter because of Getaâs courtesyâ you ended his sentence. You felt disgusted by his confession and guilty for destroying the chances of your mother and Lucilla of being happy together.
Acacius's eyes widened slightly at your words, but he didnât deny them. Instead, he looked at you with a mixture of shame and helplessness, as though he carried the weight of his choices like chains he could never cast off. âIt was more than just Geta,â he said quietly. âLucilla believedâshe hopedâthat this union would keep you safe from him. And I thought... I thought I could do that for her.â
You stepped back, your heart pounding. The walls of the room seemed to close in, suffocating you under the weight of his confession. âAnd in doing so, you destroyed any chance you both might have had for happiness,â you said, your voice trembling. âBecause of you, she sacrificed everythingâfor what? To tie me to a man who doesnât even want me.â
âHey,â Acacius said quickly, stepping closer, but you held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.
âDonât,â you said, your voice breaking. âDonât try to justify it. You will never love me, and now I know why. Because all you see in me is her shadow.â
âNo.â His voice was firm now, his eyes blazing with an intensity that startled you. âYouâre wrong. I never wanted this to be about her, and I never wanted you to think I see you as anything less than who you are. But I canât bury my feelings, and I canât undo the choices we made.â
Your stomach churned with anger, disgust and despair. âDo you even realize what youâve done?â you demanded. âYouâve tied me to a life I never wanted, a life where Iâll always wonder if I was just a piece in someone elseâs plan. Iâm always trapped in the middle of something.â
The tears you had been holding back finally broke free, spilling down your cheeks as sobs wracked your body. The weight of Acaciusâs confession, of everything you had endured, crushed you, and the walls of the room seemed to close in around you.
âI canât do this,â you said, your voice trembling, thick with emotion. âI canât stay here.â
âPlease,â Acacius began, his tone urgent as he stepped toward you, his hand outstretched. But you recoiled, shaking your head fiercely.
âDonât!â you cried, your voice cracking. âDonât come near me! Donât tell me itâs going to be okay when nothing ever is. Youâre just another person whoâs used me, another person who doesnât see me.â
The rawness of your words hung in the air, and for a moment, Acacius froze, his face etched with a mixture of pain and helplessness. But you couldnât bear to look at him any longer. The walls of the room blurred as your tears continued to fall, and you turned abruptly, your feet moving before your mind could catch up.
You fled the room, your sobs echoing in the empty corridors as you ran blindly through the villa. Servants and guards turned to look at you, startled by the sight of their lady in such distress, but you ignored them. You needed to get away, away from Acacius, away from the suffocating weight of expectations, away from everything.
Eventually, you found yourself in the gardens, the cool night air biting at your skin. The sky above was scattered with stars, their distant light doing little to ease the turmoil within you. You collapsed onto a stone bench, your arms wrapping around yourself as you cried, the sound of your grief swallowed by the rustling of the trees.
You had tried so hard to find a place in this world, to make peace with the life forced upon you. But tonight, every fragile piece of that illusion had shattered, leaving you adrift in a sea of uncertainty and pain.
As your sobs subsided, a cold breeze swept through the garden, chilling you to the bone. For a brief moment, you thought of Acacius, of the way his eyes had softened when he spoke, of the regret laced in his voice.
But the anger and betrayal still burned too brightly within you to let those thoughts linger.
The cool night air stung your cheeks as you sprinted through the gardens, past the rows of manicured hedges and marble statues. The villa loomed behind you, its walls suffocating even at a distance. Your lungs burned, your heart hammering against your ribs, but you didnât stop. You couldnât. You didnât know where you were goingâonly that it had to be far away from Acacius, from the weight of his confession, from the life you no longer recognized as your own.
Your feet carried you to the outer grounds of the villa, where the shadows grew darker, the torchlight dimmer. The muffled sound of distant voices reached your ears, guards patrolling the perimeter, but you veered away from them, toward the narrow dirt path that led to the forest. The trees ahead beckoned like a sanctuary, their darkness promising solitude.
You barely noticed the snap of a twig behind you until a voice cut through the silence.
Before you could gather your thoughts, you heard soft footsteps approaching once more. Your heart lurched. "Acacius?" you called out tentatively, but when the figure stepped into the moonlight, your breath caught.
It wasnât Acacius.
It was Geta.
He stood there, his face shadowed yet unmistakably troubled. The smugness on his face was characteristic but still you couldnât name his expression you couldnât place what he was feeling, desperation? Anguish? The way his chest rose and fell told you heâd been running, as if chasing you had been his sole purpose.
âEmperor Geta? wha-what are you doing here?â you demanded, your voice shaking, not with fear but with a volatile mixture of emotions you couldnât quite name.
âI was on my way to pay a visit to our beloved Generalâ he answered, his sinister smile still on his face, "I must admit," he said, stepping closer, his tone dripping with false amusement, "I didnât expect to find you wandering out here all alone. What would dear Acacius think, hmm? Leaving his precious wife unguarded in the dead of night?"
Your heart pounded harder now, but for an entirely different reason.
Geta took another step toward you, and you fought the urge to recoil. The air between you felt suffocating, charged with a tension that made your skin crawl.
"Youâre drunk, emperor" you said sharply, hoping to mask the fear creeping into your voice. "Go back to the palace, Geta.â
But he only laughed, a cold, hollow sound. "Oh, Iâm perfectly sober," he said, his eyes narrowing. "And I think itâs time we had a little... talk, you and I.â
âWhat more could you possibly want from me, Emperor?â
His eyes met yours, and for the first time, they werenât cold or calculating. They were raw, bare, and filled with an emotion that made your stomach churn.
âYou,â he said, the word barely above a whisper.
Your blood froze. âWhat?â
âIâve loved you,â he said, his voice trembling. âFor as long as I can remember. And Iâve hated myself for it, but I couldnât stop. Not even when I tried to keep my distance. Not even when I told myself it was wrong.â
The ground seemed to shift beneath your feet. This was a nightmareâa fever dream born of the turmoil of the night. It had to be.
âNo,â you said, shaking your head vehemently. âNo, you canâtâyou donât mean that.â
âI do,â he said, stepping closer, though he didnât reach for you. âIâve tried to bury it; to pretend I could be the dutiful emperor everyone thought I was. But every time I see you, every time I hear your voice...â He broke off, his hands clenching into fists. âIt is like I am set on fire.â
âIââ you started, but words failed you.
Geta took another step forward, his desperation palpable. âDo you see now?â he asked, his voice softer but no less intense. âIâve only ever seen you as mine.â
âStop,â you said, your voice trembling as you raised a hand to keep him at bay. âJust stop. Whatever you think this is, whatever you feelâitâs wrong.â
He froze at your words, his face twisting with a mixture of pain and defiance. âWrong?â he repeated, his voice cracking. âHow can it be wrong when itâs the only thing Iâve ever been certain of?â
âBecause I donât feel the same!â you shouted, your tears spilling over now. âI will never feel the same. Iâm married.â
Geta flinched at your words as though youâd struck him. His face, already a storm of emotions, darkened further. âMarried,â he spat, his voice low and bitter. âTo a man who will never truly see you. A man who cannot love you the way I do.â
Your chest tightened as anger began to bubble within you, momentarily overpowering the fear and confusion. âLove?â you repeated, your voice trembling. âThis isnât love, Geta. Whatever you think this is, itâs twisted. Youâve turned me into some...some object to claim, a possession to own!â
His jaw clenched, and his hands balled into fists at his sides. âI have done nothing but love you,â he said through gritted teeth. âWhen no one else cared about your happiness, when they made you a pawn in their schemes, I thought of you. Always.â
âThen why didnât you stop it?â you demanded, stepping forward despite yourself. âWhy didnât you, with all your power, say something? Do something? If you loved me so much, why didnât you fight for me?â
Getaâs gaze faltered for the briefest moment, a crack in his otherwise unyielding façade. âBecause I couldnât,â he admitted, his voice quieter now. âBecause to love you openly would have been to destroy you. You think I donât know how they look at me? How they whisper? They already call me unfit to rule, unstable. If they knew how I felt, they would have turned their wrath on you.â
âThatâs not love,â you said, shaking your head, your voice breaking. âLove doesnât hide in shadows. It doesnât tear someone apart from the inside. It doesnât...â You trailed off, pressing a trembling hand to your mouth as sobs threatened to escape. âIt doesnât feel like this.â
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant rustle of leaves in the night wind.
âI didnât want this,â Geta finally said, his voice almost a whisper. âI never wanted to hurt you. But watching you with him, knowing youâre his...â His voice cracked, and he took a shaky breath. âItâs killing me.â
âIâm not yours,â you said firmly, the words sharper than you intended. âIâll never be yours.â
Getaâs face hardened at that, the softness of his confession replaced by something colder, more dangerous. âWeâll see,â he said quietly, his tone chilling in its calmness. âThe gods have a way of changing fatesâ
The sound of hooves pounding the earth broke through the tension that had built between you and Geta. The rhythmic thundering grew louder, and you instinctively turned toward the noise, your heart racing in your chest.
Acacius appeared from the shadows, his silhouette cutting through the night as he rode forward, leading a group of horses. His eyes immediately locked on you, and in an instant, his expression shiftedâdarkening, as though a storm had formed within him. When his gaze flicked to Geta, the atmosphere around them changed.
Geta remained still, but his eyes narrowed. He knew exactly who had arrived. A low tension crackled in the air, like two opposing forces on the verge of collision.
âEmperor Geta,â Acacius said sharply, his voice hard, his stance unwavering. His hand instinctively tightened on the reins of his horse as if it were a weapon, a subtle warning. âIt is too late for you to be out in the middle of the nightâ
For a moment, Geta didn't respond. The intensity of his stare met Acaciusâ head-on, the challenge in his eyes unmistakable. But Acacius didnât flinch. His presence was commanding, and even Geta, in his turmoil, could sense the shift.
You stepped back slightly, the weight of the situation dawning on you. The conflict between these two men was palpable, and it made the ground beneath your feet feel unsteady. Your heart pounded, not just from fear, but from something deeper, more painful. The realization that you were now caught between these two men who seemed to hold pieces of your life in their hands.
Getaâs lips curled slightly in a sardonic smile, though there was an edge to it. Â âI bet is too late to pay a visit to our beloved general"
Acacius ignored the provocation, his eyes now focused solely on you, his voice softening. âAre you all right?â he asked, though it was laced with an undertone of concern, almost as though he was afraid to hear the answer.
You could feel your chest tighten as Acaciusâs eyes met yours, the concern in his voice stirring something deep inside of you, something vulnerable. You wanted to say something, anything to ease the tension, but the words wouldnât come. Your emotions were a storm, a swirl of anger, fear, and confusion that made it impossible to think clearly.
Before you could respond, Getaâs voice cut through the moment like a knife. âDoes he really care, or is this just about keeping control? Do you really think heâs here for you?â He sneered, stepping forward as if trying to push Acacius out of the space between you. âOr is it just the idea of you that he wants to control, the power that comes with your bloodline?â
The truth was beyond the obsession Geta had towards you, there was fear. He was aware your blood belonged to the realm, so you werenât a lover he wanted to possess but a treat he wanted to eliminate. Â
You werenât just a woman who caught his eye; you were the reminder of the power he feared losing. Your existence in the realm, your connection to the throne, made you a target in his mind. His twisted love for you wasnât love, it was a deep-seated need to control, to erase what he couldnât possess or manipulate.
Your marriage to the General of Rome put you in a place where you could go back to ruling the empire.
Acacius stood tall, his eyes still fixed on Geta, the tension between them thick enough to choke the air around you. His expression was hard, his jaw clenched with quiet fury, but it was the protective energy that radiated from him that caught your attention. He wasnât going to let this spiral any further.
"Whatever matter you think needs discussing, Geta," Acacius began, his voice steady but firm, "it can wait until tomorrow. Not tonight. Not in the presence of my wife."
The words were sharp, final. There was a strength in them that sent a clear message, a line that Geta could not cross. Acaciusâs gaze never wavered as he took a step forward, a silent challenge to Geta, daring him to try anything more.
You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, torn between relief and dread. Acacius's words were a shield, but they didnât seem to do anything to quell the storm brewing between the two men.
Getaâs face hardened, the flicker of emotion that had passed through him earlier replaced by a steely resolve. âYour wife, Acacius,â he said, the venom in his tone unmistakable, âis a part of this empire, and the future of it is bound to her. Donât think for a second you can keep her out of this.â
Acaciusâs grip tightened on the reins of his horse, his knuckles white as he kept his stance, unwavering. âIâm not keeping her out of anything,â he said, his voice low but deadly. âBut as her husband, I will not let you use her to fuel your delusions of power.â
For a moment, the air seemed to freeze, the threat hanging between them like a sword poised to fall. But Geta, ever the strategist, knew when to back down. He held your gaze for one last moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without another word, he turned away, his posture stiff, and he strode off, leaving the two of you standing there in the quiet aftermath.
You exhaled shakily, feeling a weight lift from your chest, but it didnât last. The shadows of what had just transpired seemed to cling to you, the fear, the confusion still buzzing in your veins. Acaciusâs protection, though fiercely given, couldnât erase the uncertainty of everything that had just happened.
He turned to you then, his expression softening, though the hard edge from earlier remained in his eyes. âAre you all right?â His voice was gentle now, and the concern in his gaze pulled at your heart in a way you couldnât explain.
You nodded but soon after you moved your head, everything went completely black.
The world slowly came back into focus, the heavy weight of unconsciousness lifting from your mind like a veil being drawn aside. You blinked, the sharp light of the morning creeping through the windows, and the gentle rustle of sheets beneath you signaled you were no longer outside. You were back inside, in the cool, quiet comfort of your chambers.
Your body felt heavy, as though every muscle had been drained of energy, but the pain from the night before had faded, replaced by a strange weariness that seeped into your bones. You tried to sit up, but a soft voice stopped you before you could move.
âCareful,â Lucilla said, her tone gentle but firm. She was sitting by your bedside, her eyes fixed on you with a mixture of concern and calm reassurance. âYou need to rest.â
Your heart raced for a moment, the fragments of the nightâs events rushing back to you. Getaâs confrontation, the threat in his voice, and Acacius standing between you, the tension thick enough to choke the air. You could still feel the sharp edge of fear in your chest, but for now, you were safe.
âMotherâŠâ you whispered, your voice hoarse. âWhat happened? Is⊠is everything all right?â
Lucillaâs eyes softened, and she reached out to brush a lock of hair from your face, her touch soothing. âYou fainted, my lady. After the confrontation with the emperor, you collapsed. Acacius was frantic. He had you brought inside immediately. Heâs been by your side all night.â
Her words made your heart flutter, a strange mixture of emotions flooding you. Acacius had been there, waiting, watching over you, just as he always did. But there was something else in the air, something unspoken between you and him that neither of you could ignore.
âHe stayed with me?â you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The thought of him there, protecting you, made something twist inside your chest.
Lucilla nodded, her expression softening. âYes. He didnât leave your side for a moment. Heâs worried about you.â
As Lucillaâs words settled into your mind, the door to your chambers creaked open. You barely had time to turn your head before Acacius stepped inside, his figure towering in the doorway. His presence seemed to fill the room, his eyes immediately locking with yours. There was a quiet intensity in his gaze, a depth of emotion you couldnât quite decipher. For a moment, it felt as though the world outside of your small room had disappeared, leaving just the two of you, caught in the stillness of the moment.
He took a step forward, but it was the way he looked at your mother that made your breath catch in your throat. The same tension you had felt between you and him last night now seemed to make sense. The raw honesty, the confession he had madeâthe admission of his feelings, the vulnerability in his voiceâwas clear in that single glance. And in that moment, something inside you recoiled.
You were a burden.
âAcaciusâŠâ you whispered, barely able to speak, your mind reeling. You could feel the panic rising inside you, suffocating, as if there was no room to breathe in his presence. Was this what you had been running from all along?
He stepped closer, his voice steady but strained. âYouâre awake,â he said quietly, almost as if he was still processing the fact. His eyes softened when they met yours, but there was a flicker of something darker behind them, something you couldnât place.
âI was worried about you,â he added, his tone still holding a thread of concern, as if your well-being was his sole focus.
You swallowed hard, your mouth dry, and for a moment, you couldnât find your voice. Lucilla, sensing the weight of the moment, quietly excused herself, leaving you and Acacius alone in the quiet of the room.
As the door clicked shut behind her, the silence between you two seemed to grow heavier, more suffocating. He took another step closer, his gaze never leaving yours, but you couldnât bring yourself to meet it fully. Every part of you screamed for distance, for space, and yet, he remained closeâtoo close.
âAcacius, Iââ you started, but the words caught in your throat. How could you put into words what you were feeling? The confusion, the fear, the overwhelming weight of it all? It wasnât just about what Geta had done or said; it was about the emotions Acacius had stirred in you, emotions you didnât know how to deal with.
You wanted to feel loved in a way your skin felt when the sun caresses your face in the midst of a cold winter.
But Acacius could never love you.
The days passed like slow, heavy drops of rain. The storm of emotions that had churned inside of you seemed to settle, but it wasnât a calm; it was the oppressive stillness before something darker took hold. Acacius remained by your side, always present, but the warmth that once ignited in your chest when you saw him, when you felt his concern, began to dim. His confession, those raw words of love for your mother, left a lingering sting that you couldnât ignore, no matter how hard you tried.
Each time you saw him, you felt a coldness creeping into your heart, like the chill of winter settling into your bones. It wasnât that you hated him, far from it, but you couldnât shake the feeling that something fundamental had broken. You had wanted to feel cherished, wanted in a way that made you feel whole, like the sun warming your skin during the harshest of winters. But instead, you felt like the shadows of something lost were all that remained.
The days blurred together as you drifted through them in a fog. The joy that once accompanied your moments with Acacius, his gaze, his touch, seemed to fade with each passing day. You were still there, still functioning, but you werenât alive in the way you had once been. You were a shadow of the person who had laughed freely, who had dreamed of a future with the man who had stood beside you through every storm.
Now, his presence only reminded you of what could never be. Every word from him felt weighted, laced with an unspoken truth you couldnât escape. He was there, yesâbut it was Lucillaâs name that seemed to linger in the air between you, a constant reminder of what could never happen.
You stopped meeting his gaze as often, your conversations clipped and polite, but distant. You couldnât pretend anymore that things were the same. You couldnât ignore the hollow feeling that had taken root inside you, gnawing at you like a slow, insidious poison.
The days felt endless. The life you had once felt for each moment, for each glance he gave you, slipped away bit by bit. You told yourself you were strong, that you would move on, that you could adapt to the life in front of you. But the spark that once filled your soul, the fire that had kept you going, was slowly being smothered. Each day without clarity, without answers, without that spark, made you more resigned, hollower.
The days blurred into weeks, and life continued its chaotic, inevitable march forward. The grandeur of Rome, its towering structures and ancient streets, became a distant backdrop to the turmoil that had taken root within you. Despite the growing tension surrounding you, your presence at the grand events of the empire remained. There were battles in the Colosseumâevents that had once stirred the blood, filled with anticipation and excitement. Now, they were merely noise, the sounds of clashing steel and roars of the crowd unable to penetrate the numbness that had taken hold of your soul.
Geta's obsession with you deepened, his presence more frequent, more invasive. His eyes never seemed to leave you, and every word he spoke, every look, was an attempt to assert control, to draw you into his tangled web of fear and power. But his attempts only felt more suffocating. You were trapped, like an animal in a gilded cage, unable to escape his watchful gaze. He wasnât interested in you as a woman; you were a symbol to him, something to manipulate, to dominate, to erase the threat you posed to his fragile claim on the empire.
Despite your growing isolation, Acacius remained at your side. His concern for you was evident, though he seemed to be walking on a thin line, careful not to overstep or push you too hard. He knew you were withdrawing, knew that something had shifted between you, but he didnât know how to reach you. He could see the distance in your eyes, the way you pulled away when he tried to comfort you. And it broke him, though he never spoke of it.
There were feelings he didnât know he was able to feel, appearing.
The battles at the Colosseum grew more brutal, the spectacle becoming more and more gruesome with each passing day. The roar of the crowd no longer thrilled you. The sight of blood, the cries of victory and deathâit all blended into a backdrop of life that felt increasingly distant, like you were watching it all from behind a veil. You were alive, yesâbut you werenât truly living.
One evening, as you sat beside Acacius in the grand hall, your hand in his, you tried to force a smile. You knew he was watching, hoping for some sign that the woman he once knew was still there. The fingers that held yours were strong, steady, but you felt a chill crawl up your spine. His warmth didnât reach you anymore. His presence, once a comfort, now felt like a reminder of everything you had lost.
"Smile," he whispered, his voice gentle, coaxing. "Just for tonight. For me."
You nodded, a small, strained smile curling at the corner of your lips. But as you smiled, something inside you felt hollow. You knew what he sawâthe facade of a woman who was still whole, still alive. But inside, you were dying. The life that once burned brightly in you had been extinguished, snuffed out by the weight of betrayal, fear, and a love that could never be returned. And as you smiled for him, you felt like an actor playing a partâfaking a life that wasnât truly yours anymore.
The crowd cheered as Acacius raised your hand, the symbol of his victory and his loyalty to Rome. But you couldnât feel the victory. You couldnât feel the joy. You just felt death. Not the death of your body, but the death of everything you had once been. The woman who dreamed, who hoped, who believed in love and light, was slipping further away with each passing day.
Acacius, for all his strength, could never reach you. You could see the worry in his eyes, the way he would glance at you when he thought you werenât looking, as if he was searching for somethingâanythingâthat would tell him you were still there. But you werenât. You were a shadow, a flicker of the woman you used to be, trapped in the space between life and death.
As the days stretched on, Getaâs obsession with you grew more dangerous. His presence became a constant reminder of your captivity, the ever-present shadow of his desire to control. He wasnât content with merely watching anymore. No, now he was making his move, pushing harder, testing boundaries. You could feel the weight of his eyes on you, even when he wasnât in the room. He was always there, lurking, waiting.
Acacius noticed it too. He saw the way you tensed whenever Geta entered the room, the way your eyes darted nervously, the way your smile faltered. He knew you were becoming a shell of the person you once were. And for the first time, Acacius found himself unsure of how to help you. He had always been your protector, your constant, but now, it felt like he was failing you.
âYou donât have to pretend for me,â he said one night, his voice rough with emotion. He reached for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. âI see it. The distance. I see you slipping away from me, and I donât know how to fix it.â
You wanted to tell him, to let him in, but the words wouldnât come. Instead, you turned your gaze toward the distant horizon, watching the sun set behind the buildings of Rome, casting long shadows across the streets. It was a beautiful sight, but you couldnât appreciate it. The beauty of the world was lost on you now.
"Iâm sorry," you whispered, though the words didnât feel like enough. They would never be enough.
Acacius squeezed your hand tighter, as if trying to hold onto you, to keep you from slipping away entirely. But you knew, deep down, that it was already too late. You were already gone.
The days continued to stretch on, the weight of your own existence pressing down on you with each breath you took. You moved through life like a specter, haunted by your own thoughts, consumed by the shadow of everything that had transpired. The air around you felt thick, suffocating, and nothing seemed to reach you anymore.
One evening, after yet another long day of feigned smiles and empty conversations, you retreated to your chambers. You had long since stopped caring about the grand appearances, the masks you were expected to wear. In the silence of your room, the darkness that had begun to take root in your heart felt heavier than ever before. It was as though the weight of your despair had become a tangible thing, pulling you under, drowning you from the inside.
You moved toward the bath, the cool marble surface inviting you with its quiet promise of solitude. You sank into the warm water, hoping, if only for a moment, to drown out the noise inside your mind, to forget the suffocating reality that had become your life. The water enveloped you, and for a brief moment, you felt weightless, freeâfree from everything that bound you, from Geta's obsession, from the looming presence of the empire, and from the love you could never have.
But the peace was fleeting. The thoughts came rushing back, overwhelming and relentless. Acaciusâs touch, his words, his confession of love for your motherâit all swirled in your mind like a storm, too much to bear. And in that moment, something inside you snapped. You wanted it all to end. The pain. The confusion. The crushing weight of everything.
As the water rose higher, you slipped under, the coolness surrounding you like an embrace. It was quiet. So quiet. The pressure in your chest intensified, a cold finality settling in. Your body felt heavier, the world fading as you sank deeper into the water. The voices in your head quieted, the darkness enveloping you completely. And for the first time in a long while, you felt... peace.
But fate had other plans.
Just as the darkness threatened to consume you completely, a sudden hand gripped your arm, pulling you from the water with desperate force. The world rushed back in an instant, blinding, harsh, and you gasped for air, coughing, choking as water flooded your lungs.
âNo!â a familiar voice cried out, filled with fear. âDonât you dare do this!â
Your vision swam as Acaciusâs strong arms pulled you up, his face a mask of panic and determination. He moved quickly, his hands steady as he worked to lift you from the bath and cradle you against his chest. His voice was shaky, though he tried to hide it.
âStay with me,â he urged, his voice breaking as he held you close, his hands pressing against your wet skin. âPlease. Donât leave me.â
You were too weak to respond, your body trembling, your mind foggy. But his wordsâdonât leave meâcut through the haze. They echoed in your ears, but they didnât make sense. Why would he want you to stay when you were nothing more than a burden, a shadow of what you once were?
âAcaciusâŠâ you whispered weakly, your throat raw as you fought to speak. His name felt like the last thread that held you to this world. "Why...?"
His grip tightened on you, his body radiating warmth as he looked down at you, his eyes filled with desperation and anguish.
âBecause I want to love you,â he said, his voice shaking but steady with resolve. âIâve always wanted to love you. You donât have to carry all of this alone. I donât care about the empire, about the danger, or the expectations of the world. I care about you. I want to be there for youâto love you.â
His words hung in the air like an echo, reverberating through the silence that had settled between you. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to reach for that spark of hope, the promise of love he was offering, but the weight of everything you had been through, everything you had lost, held you back.
You closed your eyes, your breath still shaky, and tried to push away the wave of conflicting emotions that surged within you. Acaciusâs love, though it was sincere, felt like a distant dreamâa dream that you didnât deserve. How could you accept his love when you felt so broken, so consumed by the darkness inside of you?
âIâm so sorry,â you whispered, your voice barely audible, but filled with the depth of the regret you felt. âIâm not who you think I am. Iâve lost so much of myself...â
Acacius gently cupped your face in his hands, his touch tender and comforting, as though he were trying to steady you from the storm that raged inside of you. He was quiet for a long moment, his gaze soft but unwavering.
âYouâre not lost,â he said, his voice low but steady. âYouâre not alone, even when it feels like it. Iâm here. I will always be here, whether you believe it or not.â
The warmth of his touch seemed to seep into your skin, like a quiet promise. But even with that promise, there was still a part of you that resisted. You were drowningânot just in the water, but in the weight of your own thoughts, your own feelings. How could you possibly let yourself love again, after everything that had happened?
âI donât know how to let anyone love me anymore,â you admitted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "Not after everything I've been through... everything that's been taken from me."
He leaned closer, his forehead resting gently against yours as his hands moved to hold you more firmly. "You donât have to figure it all out right now. Just let me be here with you, for as long as you need. You donât have to carry the world on your own anymore."
His words settled in your heart, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to breathe, to feel his presence. It wasnât a solution to all that haunted you, but it was somethingâsomething real.
âYouâre not alone, either,â you whispered, your voice still fragile but more certain than before. âI donât want to be alone, either.â
The quiet between you felt like an unspoken promise, an understanding. You didnât have all the answers, and you didnât know how to fix what was broken.
Acacius carefully lifted you in his arms, his movements gentle yet strong, as though he feared breaking you. The room was quiet, save for the sound of his steady breathing and the soft rustle of the sheets as he settled you onto the bed. His hands lingered at your sides, making sure you were comfortable, as though he couldn't bear to be too far away, even for a second.
You lay there, your body trembling from the cold of the water and the emotions that had swirled through you in such a short time. But there was a warmth now, a steadiness in the way Acacius was with you, something that grounded you amidst the chaos. His presence filled the space between the silence, and you wanted to hold onto that feeling, to keep it close as though it were the last thread that could save you from the darkness.
But even as your thoughts tangled, your voice came out soft, barely a whisper, as if afraid to disturb the fragile calm that had settled around you.
"Acacius," you said, your voice catching slightly. "Stay... please."
The words hung in the air, vulnerable and raw, and you could feel your heart beating faster as you waited for his response. You werenât sure what you were asking forâcomfort, reassurance, or simply the presence of someone who cared when everything else seemed so uncertain.
Acacius didnât speak at first. He simply moved to sit on the edge of the bed, his gaze intense, but filled with an understanding that pierced through the barriers you had built around yourself. His hand gently rested on yours, his thumb brushing over your skin in slow, soothing motions.
"Of course," he finally said, his voice a soft promise, like the calm after a storm. "Iâm not going anywhere."
He pulled the blanket over you, ensuring you were warm and comfortable, and then he settled beside you, close but not too close. His presence filled the space beside you, but there was a tenderness in the way he lay next to you, giving you the space you needed while still remaining close enough to feel his warmth, his care.
You turned your head slightly, your eyes meeting his in the dim light of the room. The vulnerability in your chest, the fear of asking for too much, made you hesitate for a moment. But then, with a shaky breath, you spoke again, this time more urgently.
"Stay with me," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "Just... for tonight. I donât want to be alone."
Acaciusâs gaze softened, his lips curling into a faint, reassuring smile. Without saying a word, he shifted closer to you, his arm slipping around you as he pulled you gently against him. His warmth enveloped you, and for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to rest, truly rest, without the weight of the world pressing down on you.
In that moment, as you felt his heartbeat steady against yours, the storm inside you quieted, if only for a little while. The darkness still lingered at the edges of your thoughts, but Acaciusâs presence, his steady, unyielding care, was a reminder that, for now, you didnât have to face it alone.
And so, you closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his arms around you pull you into a fragile peace, knowing that, for this one night, you were not lost.
In the days that followed, something shifted between you and Acacius. It was subtle at first, like the quiet change of seasons, but it was unmistakable. His devotion to you became more evident in every action, in every word. It wasnât just the caring gesturesâthough those were abundantâbut the way his gaze lingered on you, the way his touch seemed to convey more than words ever could. You could feel the change in the air, like the warmth of the sun breaking through the clouds.
Acacius, the loyal general, who had always been steadfast in his duties to the empire, had turned his focus entirely toward you. His thoughts, his actions, and his very presence were now centered around ensuring that you were safe, that you were cared for.
Every morning, he would bring you breakfast, a small smile on his lips as he placed the tray before you. He would sit with you, talking about the dayâs events, but his attention was always on you, his eyes soft with concern, his every movement thoughtful. If you showed signs of fatigue, he would insist on helping you with whatever you needed, no matter how small. And when the nights came, he would always stay, watching over you as you slept, keeping his promise to never let you be alone.
At times, you felt the weight of his care, the devotion he gave so freely, and it both soothed and unsettled you. The fear of being a burden gnawed at your mind, but each time you tried to withdraw, Acacius was there, offering reassurance, pulling you back from the edge.
âWhat about when you have to go into battle again?â you asked once, your voice barely above a whisper. The question had been haunting you ever since your marriage. No matter how much Acacius promised protection, he was a general firstâa soldier bound to the empireâs whims.
He hesitated, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, the confident, stoic mask he always wore faltered, and you saw the man beneath it, a man burdened with duty and uncertainty.
âI donât know,â he admitted. âBut I will make sure youâre safe before I leave. Always.â
His honesty was disarming, and for once, it didnât feel like an empty reassurance. Still, the thought of him riding off to battle, leaving you behind in the suffocating grip of the palace, sent a shiver down your spine.
âAnd what if you donât come back?â you pressed, your voice trembling.
Acacius stepped closer, his gaze steady. âI will come back,â he said firmly. âIâve survived countless battles, and Iâll survive the next one. Because now, I have a reason to.â
His words made your breath catch, and you turned away, unwilling to let him see the tears welling in your eyes. âDonât say things like that,â you murmured. âDonât make promises you might not be able to keep.â
âIâm not making promises,â he said, his voice softer now. âIâm telling you the truth.â
You looked at him then, your emotions a whirlwind of fear, anger, and something elseâsomething you werenât ready to name. âYou make it sound so simple,â you said bitterly.
âItâs not,â he admitted, his expression unflinchingly honest. âBut Iâve faced death more times than I can count, and Iâve always fought to live. Now, I fight for you, too.â
The weight of his words settled over you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Finally, you broke the silence, your voice raw.
âI donât want to be the reason you donât come back.â
He reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on your shoulder. âYou wonât be,â he said. âIf anything, youâre the reason I will.â
The vulnerability in his voice was almost too much to bear. You closed your eyes, taking a shaky breath. âI donât know how to do this, Acacius,â you admitted. âI donât know how to let myself care for someone when everything in my life has been taken from me.â
He stepped closer, his hand sliding down to take yours. âYou donât have to figure it out all at once,â he said. âBut let me stay by your side while you do.â
His grip was firm yet gentle, and in that moment, you felt a flicker of something you hadnât allowed yourself to feel in years: hope.
âJust... come back,â you whispered, your voice breaking.
âI will,â he promised, his gaze unwavering. âAlways.â
And for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe him.
After the gladiatorsâ fights had concluded in the Colosseum, you and your mother, left the arena, your minds still lingering on the chaos of the day. Acacius had been by your side throughout the event, his protective presence never wavering. But you noticed something had shifted in himâthe tension in his jaw, the restlessness in his eyes, as if his mind was elsewhere. It was as though the very air around him had grown heavier.
As you made your way back to the villa, you could feel the weight of the looming battle on his shoulders. The orders from Emperor Geta and Caracalla had been clear: Acacius was to return to the front lines in two days. The idea of losing him, of seeing him walk into another battle with the same fierce determination he had shown every time, filled you with dread.
The villa felt quieter that night, the cool breeze brushing against the stone walls, but inside, the silence was almost suffocating. Acacius was pacing in his chamber, his armor now set aside, but his mind seemed far from peace. You watched him from the doorway for a moment, your heart aching as you saw him battle with his own thoughts.
"Acacius," you said softly, stepping closer.
He didnât look up right away, but when he did, his eyes seemed to carry the weight of the world. Â Â Â "Iâm sorry," he muttered. "I know you want more from me, but right now, my dutyâmy loyaltyâit demands more than I can give."
You walked toward him, the soft sound of your sandals barely reaching his ears. "You don't have to apologize," you said quietly, touching his arm. "But I can see it... you're restless. You're carrying the burden of something you shouldn't have to face alone."
He sighed deeply, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I have no choice. The orders are clear. If I don't return to battle, I dishonor my men, and if I do... I risk everything. Including you."
Your heart fluttered at his words. You moved a little closer, your voice softer now. "You don't have to risk everything alone. Iâm here, Acacius. If you need my company tonight, I will stay. I will help carry your burden, if only for this one night."
For a moment, he stood still, as if weighing your words. Then, slowly, his hands reached for you, gently pulling you closer until there was no distance left between you. The tension in his shoulders softened, but only slightly. His eyes, filled with uncertainty and longing, met yours.
"I donât deserve you.â he murmured, his voice rough.
You shook your head, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "You are more than that. You are the man who has kept me safe, and for that alone, I would follow you anywhere."
He seemed to hesitate for just a breath, then, with a sudden urgency, he kissed you. It was gentle at first, a soft press of his lips against yours, as if he were testing the waters. But the moment your lips met, everything else faded. The weight of the empire, the war, the ordersânone of it mattered in that instant. The world outside was silent, and the only thing that existed was the warmth of his kiss, the soft but undeniable spark between you.
As he pulled away slightly, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing a little faster, your hearts racing. His voice was low, almost a whisper. "Youâve made this so much harderâ
You smiled softly, your hands resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers. "Maybe thatâs exactly what I want," you whispered, a playful glint in your eyes.
His lips brushed against yours again, this time more urgently, more desperately, as if the fear of losing you in the battle, or the fear of losing everything in the coming days, had driven him to this moment.
And in that kiss, you both found something you hadnât realized you were searching for. You had been lost in the chaos of the empire, in the uncertainty of what came next, but in this moment, with him, everything felt right. You werenât alone anymore.
As you pulled away from the kiss, Acacius didnât let go of you right away, his hands still resting on your shoulders, as though afraid you might slip away. His breath was uneven, his chest rising and falling in time with your own. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the world outside the villaâs walls completely forgotten.
Carefully, he brought his hands to your shoulders, traveling down your arms, at the same time your skin bristled under his touch. You had never felt this before, the mixture of nerves and lust of being touched with delicacy and love that you didn't know could exist.
He carried you to his bed gently, in slow steps without taking his gaze from your eyes that looked at him with curiosity and lost in the ecstasy of the moment.
Lust and desire.
The fabric of your dress felt suffocating against your skin and as if he had read your mind, he peeled your clothes off your skin leaving you completely exposed under his gaze. You gaped at him, half embarrassed, half impressed, then he pulled his lips back upon yours, palming your breast, as he made his way to his bed.
You chuckled as you lay there, and his face matched your smile as he continued to kiss you down your neck. The warmth of your uneven breaths mingled, enveloping you both as he quickly worked on his garments, and as soon as his clothes were removed, there was nothing to keep you apart. You curled your fingers in his hair as he kissed you all over your body for the first time. You could sense the emotions, but the intimacy and lust were like a fire in your core.
You felt Acacius' lips against your hips and angled them up for him. You were already dripping as he licked a route from your thigh to your cunt before sucking on your clit and pressing his fingers against you.
You whimpered while holding his head between your legs. His cock hardened as the sound from your lips and you clenched around his fingers. He sucked like he was hungry, forcing your legs apart till you had one calf under his shoulder. His free hand moved up your torso, grabbing your breast, as his nose rubbed against your clit. For instinct, you buried your heel into his back and dragged him closer until all he could taste was you.
He fucked you slowly, taking his time to taste your wetness on his lips before locking eyes with you. You were flustered, and your eyes shone.
"You...fuck," you whispered.
"I want you; I need you before leaving" he whispered desperately, going forward between your legs, forcing your knees up to your breasts, and plunging into you easily. You sighed and leaned forward to kiss him. Your hands were on the back of his neck, and he was on your breasts, attempting to touch you everywhere. As you both kissed, you raised your hips to fuck up into him as he drove down into you, attempting to be as cautious as possible.
You mumbled "Acacius, I love you" into his ear before he reclaimed your lips. He leaned down and sucked your nipples, lightly biting your breasts.
âIâll come back for you cara miaâ he promised, between thrusts, grinding his cock as deep as into you as it could go as you encouraged him with your moans and nails scratching down his back. Those marks would accompany the wounds of thousands of battles.
He slid his hand down to your pussy and rubbed along your clit. You fucked yourself harder on him by thrusting back against him right away.
When you came, he whispered something on your neck. You clutched around him and your hips trembled even as he continued to fuck you. Soon after, he began thrusting into you and eventually pulled out while making uneasy gasps in your shoulders. After that, the only sound in the room was the mingling of your breaths.
Acacius was nosing at your throat, promising he would come back alive to continue his life adoring you
The room was quiet, save for the soft rhythm of your breaths, which mingled together in the stillness. Time seemed to stretch, the weight of the moment settling around you like a gentle, unspoken promise.
his warm breath grazing your neck, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. His hands, still holding you with a tenderness you hadn't known before, seemed to search for something, as though memorizing the contours of your skin, tracing the lines of your jaw, your shoulders, your breath.
"Iâll come back," he murmured, his voice hushed, as though sharing a secret only meant for you. "I promise, I will come back to you. I won't leave you alone."
His lips brushed lightly against the soft skin of your throat, and you could feel the intensity of his words in that simple, delicate touch. You felt a sudden knot tighten in your chest, a mixture of longing and fear, but more than that, a deep, consuming need to believe him, to trust in the promise he was making.
"I will continue my life loving you," he continued, his voice thick with emotion, as though each word was a vow, a binding thread between you two. "When the battles are over, when the storm has passed, I'll be here and I will adore you for as long as I live."
You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his body pressed so closely against yours, the heat of his devotion seeping into your soul. For a brief, fleeting moment, it felt as if everything else faded awayâthe empire, the scheming, the endless pressures. It was just the two of you in that room, your hearts beating as one, a bond forged in the quiet moments when nothing else mattered.
You took a deep breath, feeling his hands gently cradle your face, his thumb brushing away the stray tear that had escaped. Your hand instinctively reached for his, holding onto him tightly as if the act itself could somehow make his promise real, could anchor him to you forever.
"I need you to come back," you whispered, the words escaping before you could stop them, your voice trembling with the weight of the truth behind them.
He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his hands steady and comforting. Then, with a soft and almost hesitant voice, Acacius finally asked, "Could you stay with me tonight? Sleep beside me."
The vulnerability in his words surprised you. Acacius had always been the strong, unshakable general, the one who carried the weight of the empire on his shoulders with unyielding resolve. But now, in the quiet of your shared space, he seemed as human as anyone, his guard lowered, his needs simple, yet profound.
Your heart gave a quiet thud in your chest, and without hesitation, you nodded. "Of course," you said softly. "Iâm not going anywhere."
His eyes softened, the slightest flicker of relief crossing his features. He led you over to the bed, the weight of the day seeming to leave him as he settled beside you. The soft rustle of the sheets was the only sound as he adjusted, his body tense but slowly relaxing as you lay beside him.
For a moment, neither of you said anything, simply sharing the same quiet space, your presence the only comfort either of you needed. But the closeness was enough. It was as though the war, the orders, the empire itself could not reach you here, in this space that was just yours and his.
"Stay with me," he whispered after a while, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. His hand found yours in the dark, his fingers threading through yours, a simple but grounding gesture.
You squeezed his hand gently, resting your head on the pillow beside him. "Iâm not going anywhere, Acacius. Iâm here. And Iâll be here tomorrow, and the day after, no matter what happens."
The words hung in the air, simple but true, and in that moment, you both found something precious, peace in the storm, a promise without words. Acaciusâs breath slowed, his body finally releasing the tension that had held him captive for so long.
Acacius woke slowly, the gray light of early morning spilling softly into the room. For a moment, the heaviness of his reality came crashing down on himâthe orders from Geta and Caracalla, the battle that awaited him, and the uncertainty of what lay ahead. The weight was still there, pressing on his chest like an unrelenting force, refusing to let him breathe freely.
But then, he became aware of something else.
You.
Your warmth was pressed against him, your head resting on his chest, your hand lightly curled over his heart. The soft rise and fall of your breathing matched the quiet rhythm of the room, and for the first time in days, maybe even months, Acacius felt the smallest flicker of peace.
He glanced down at you, his eyes tracing the curve of your face in the gentle morning light. You looked so calm, so trusting, nestled beside him, as though you belonged there. A part of him still couldnât believe you had stayed, that you had given him this small gift of solace before he left for what could be his last battle.
Carefully, as though afraid to wake you, he lifted a hand and brushed a strand of hair from your face. His touch lingered for a moment, his fingers barely grazing your skin, and he let out a quiet sigh. How had it come to this? How had you, someone he had been ordered to protect, become the person who made him feel safe?
The thought brought a bittersweet smile to his lips. He knew he didnât deserve this, didnât deserve you. And yet, here you were, giving him the strength he hadnât even known he needed.
You stirred slightly, nuzzling closer to him in your sleep, and he froze for a moment, unsure if you were waking. But you only let out a soft sigh and settled against him once more. He couldnât help the way his arm tightened around you, holding you closer, as though he could shield you from the world for just a little while longer.
His voice was barely a whisper, more to himself than to you. "What have you done to me?"
As the minutes passed, Acacius let himself stay in that moment, letting go of the weight of his duty, if only for a little while. With you there, the storm within him seemed to quiet, and for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to hope.
When you finally began to stir, blinking sleepily up at him, he felt his chest tighten. Your eyes met his, and though your expression was soft, he could see the worry lingering there.
"Good morning," you murmured, your voice warm and still tinged with sleep.
"Good morning," he replied, his voice lower than usual, as though the morning had stolen some of his strength.
You reached up, your fingers brushing lightly against his cheek. "You didnât sleep much, did you?"
He shook his head, his lips quirking into a faint smile. "No. But this... this helped."
You smiled at that, though it didnât quite reach your eyes. "Then let me help you more. Whatever you need, Acacius, Iâm here."
He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into your touch as though it was the only thing keeping him steady. When he opened them again, his gaze was clear, filled with something deeper than gratitude.
"Iâll remember this," he said softly, his voice carrying a promise you didnât fully understand but felt all the same. "No matter what happens, Iâll remember."
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marry me, mr. jeong

summary: while everyone around you is getting married, you're left behindâno ring, no lover, just silence waiting at home. but one night, your boss, mr. jeong, makes an unexpected proposal:Â "marry me."Â and suddenly, your quiet world begins to burn.
pairing: boss!jaehyun x fem!reader
genre: romance, slow burn, fluff, emotional smut, domestic married life, eventual pregnancy, emotional growth, healing.
warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), strong language, emotional vulnerability, pregnancy mention (later), minor angst, lots of kissing, crying, soft husband jaehyun, tooth-rotting fluff, crying-in-the-club type of love.
wc: 19,7K
notes: iâm obsessed with jaehyun as a boss, boyfriend, hubby, and daddy lmao. manâs got range đźâđšđđ€ i swear i try to keep it short but my brain goes rogue every time đ like girl be fr, whenâs the day i finally drop a short fic??? bye lmao đ

youâre twenty-nine, and the number feels heavier than you thought it would. not because itâs oldânot reallyâbut because thirty is close. and thirty means expectations. by now, you were supposed to have it all figured out. at least, thatâs what they say. your friends certainly make it seem that way with their photo-perfect marriages, toddlers learning to walk, houses in peaceful neighborhoods. meanwhile, you still live in a quiet apartment with plants you often forget to water and a fridge that holds more takeout containers than groceries.
you work at an architecture firmâclean lines, big ideas, and even bigger egos. the kind of place where late nights are common and recognition is rare. youâve built a name for yourself, though. you lead your team well, your ideas consistently get approved, and your work ethic has never been in question. the other women whisper that youâre just trying to impress the boss, that your dedication is nothing but a strategic flirtation. they don't know that your passion isnât about pleasing anyone but yourself. well, mostly. maybe part of you does want to be seen. to be acknowledged by him.
jeong jaehyun.
your department lead. two years younger than you, but somehow always carrying himself like heâs lived three lives already. he doesnât talk much. doesnât engage in the small talk that fills the office kitchen or the empty flattery some of your coworkers throw his way. heâs serious, focused, almost too calm. the kind of man whoâs unreadable, and yet somehow always watching. youâre not close, not really, but thereâs a quiet understanding between you. he trusts you. you can feel it in the way he gives you space to lead, the way he nods subtly in meetings when you speak, the way his eyes linger sometimesânot in a way that feels invasive, but like heâs... thinking.
youâve never seen him flirt with anyone. never seen him talk about his personal life. no ring, no photos on his desk, not even vague mentions of a girlfriend or family. and while no one dares to say anything to his face, everyone wonders. he's a man, thoughâno one criticizes him for being single. no one asks him what he's waiting for.
you, on the other hand, can barely go a week without someone making a comment. still not married? youâre so pretty, what a shame. your mother means well, but every call ends with a variation of youâre not getting any younger, sweetheart.you smile through it. you tell them you're happy. you tell yourself that, too. but deep down, there's a quiet ache. because youâve always wanted a family. always dreamed of being a mother, of coming home to someone who knows youânot just your schedule or your favorite takeout order, but the way you think, the way you feel things deeply and try to hide it. but love hasnât knocked in years. not since your last relationship ended at twenty-two, before the world hardened your heart. since then, youâve been too busy, too careful, too tired.
tonight, you're staying late again. the office is nearly empty, save for a few flickering lights and the buzz of a vending machine down the hall. you're finessing the last pieces of a major project, making sure every detail is just right. you're in the zone when you hear soft footsteps approaching, and then his voiceâlow, familiar, closer than expected.
âyouâre still here, byun?â
you glance up to find jaehyun standing by your desk, hands in his pockets, that usual unreadable expression on his face. thereâs no judgment in his voice, just quiet curiosity.
you offer a tired smile, leaning back in your chair. âoh, mr. jeong, i just wanted to polish a few things before the presentation. i figured if i leave anything messy, the senior managers will rip it apart. and then youâll take the heat for it.â
he raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that almost looks like a smile. âyou care that much about how i look to the execs?â
you shrug, turning back to your screen. âyouâre my boss. if you look bad, i look bad.â
he lets out a soft exhale, a sound that's dangerously close to a chuckle. then he leans against your desk, his body relaxed but his eyes still sharp as ever. âyouâre too committed.â
âyou say that like itâs a bad thing.â
he shakes his head. ânot bad. just... rare.â
a brief silence settles between you, not awkward, but weighted. it feels like heâs about to say something else, and when he does, itâs not what you expect.
âdoesnât your family mind that you stay this late?â his gaze holds yours. âyour husband? kids?â
you blink, the question catching you off guard. your smile falters just slightly, and you look down at your hands before answering.
âno husband. no kids. no one waiting at home.â you try to sound casual, even throw in a little laugh. âi guess iâm just married to the job.â
he doesnât laugh. doesnât look away. âi didnât know.â
you nod, suddenly very aware of the silence around you. âmost people assume. but... yeah. i live alone.â
another pause. then, gently, you ask, âwhat about you, mr. jeong? i mean, youâre always here late too. no one waiting on you?â
he looks away for the first time, his jaw tightening slightly before he answers. âno one yet.â
and there it is againâthat silence between you. but this time, itâs different. it hums with something unspoken. curiosity. surprise. maybe even recognition.
you return your gaze to the screen, not really seeing it. heâs still standing there, close enough to feel but not close enough to touch. something in the air shifts, and for the first time in a long time, your chest feels... not heavy, but full.
the next morning, you arrived a few minutes earlyâjust like always. being punctual wasnât about impressing anyone; it was about control, about provingâat least to yourselfâthat you had your life together. it made you feel reliable. consistent. in a workplace full of half-assed excuses and people who couldnât meet a deadline to save their lives, your discipline was something you wore like armor. something no one could take from you.
your outfit was soft, delicate evenârose-pink skirt brushing just above your knees, a crisp white button-up tucked in neatly, the blazer matching your skirt in a subtle pastel tone. your heels clicked softly against the tile floor as you made your way to your desk, and as you passed the reflection on one of the glass panels, you couldnât help but think:Â i look good today.
you did. your hair was in place, makeup light but elegant, lips tinted a faint nude-pink. polished. pretty. professional. but beneath all that... you also looked a little alone. not that anyone would say it to your faceâbut you could see it sometimes, in the glances people gave you. admiration, maybe. pity, sometimes. curiosity always.
you sat down, smoothing your skirt and adjusting your chair, reaching for the little yellow post-it youâd stuck to the side of your monitor the day before. your handwriting was neat, methodical. a short list of pending tasks, each one already being mentally checked off as you booted up your computer. you didnât waste timeâyour fingers flew across the keyboard, and within minutes the familiar sounds of productivity filled your small corner of the office: the rhythmic clack of keys, the soft hum and spit of the printer warming up to spit out proposals and reports.
you didnât hear him come in.
you were too deep in the flow, too focused on aligning the final report with the visual standards the company demanded. your eyes scanned the document line by line, searching for typos, ensuring everything was clean, sharp, presentable. the sound of footsteps behind you didnât register until you felt itâthat subtle, electric awareness that comes when someone is watching.
âgood morning, byun. please leave the project report on my desk once itâs ready.â
he didnât look at you. just passed by, smooth and quick, his voice calm and firm, a cup of steaming coffee in one hand, the familiar scent of roast beans and expensive cologne trailing behind him like a silent presence. his stride didnât falter, his gaze fixed ahead, like heâd already moved on to the next ten things in his mind. you barely had time to nod, mouth parted to respond, but he was already disappearing behind his office door.
you blinked.
right. the report.
you gathered the last printed pages, slid them into the presentation folder, double-checked the order, smoothed the cover with your palm before rising from your seat. your heels clicked softly against the floor as you made your way down the short corridor, your fingers lightly tapping the edge of the folder, nerves tightening with each step even if there was nothing to be nervous about. it was just work. just jaehyun. just another report.
you knocked once and entered when he answered. he was seated behind his desk, sleeves already rolled up to his elbows, the dark veins of his forearms visible as he typed something on his laptop. he glanced up, briefly, then reached for the report when you held it out.
âthank you,â he said, flipping it open with precision, already scanning the contents. âat two p.m. we have the meeting with upper management. youâll be joining me at the table. along with choi and hwang.â
you nodded. âunderstood.â
âgood. go over the numbers one more time before then. theyâre likely to ask.â
âyes, mr. jeong.â
and that was it. no warm smile. no thank you. just professional, cold efficiency. you turned and left, closing the door gently behind you before returning to your desk, the weight of the upcoming meeting settling on your shoulders like a familiar cloak. youâd been through this before. plenty of times. but it never got easier. not when the room was full of men in suits who barely hid their condescension, who chewed through ideas like tasteless gum until someoneâusually jaehyunâsaid something smart enough to catch their interest.
you spent the next few hours fine-tuning the financial section, making sure your data was clean, graphs properly labeled, estimates realistic but still ambitious. it was a delicate gameâmaking things sound innovative without actually suggesting anything too risky. they didnât want bold. they wanted impressive illusions of boldness packaged in safe wrapping.
the meeting room was as bland as ever. too much glass, too much beige. you sat at the long table beside jaehyun, your laptop open, presentation ready. the managers arrived first, already complaining about another teamâs failed prototype. the director entered last, stone-faced as always, his tie perfect, his opinion impossible to read.
as expected, the meeting dragged. they picked apart the proposal, paragraph by paragraph, expressionless until one of them grimaced like the very concept of originality offended them. you watched them, these men who nodded at each other but rarely smiled, who offered feedback that wasnât feedback, just empty phrases like âit needs more punchâ or âis this trend even scalable?â
then jaehyun spoke.
his voice was calm, slow, measured. and yet he made every single line sound convincing. powerful. like there was no other way forward but the one he was laying out. the room shifted around him. the tension eased. eyes narrowedânot in skepticism now, but interest. he wasnât just presenting; he was selling a vision, and you felt yourself straightening with pride even if the credit wasnât yours.
until he said your name.
ây/n,â he said, still facing the director. âif you could present the budget projections.â
you froze for a half second. not out of fearâjust... surprise. you hadnât expected him to call on you so soon.
you stood, smoothed your skirt unconsciously, and took a breath before switching slides. your voice was steady, even if your palms were clammy.
âthese are the projections for the next two quarters,â you began, pointing at the chart. âweâve estimated a moderate increase in cost during the development phase, with a break-even point projected for the beginning of q3. depending on the approved budget, weâre looking at a return on investment of approximatelyââ
you kept going, explaining the graphs, walking them through the numbers with careful clarity. no embellishments, no guesswork. facts. you swallowed once, clearing your throat before the final slide, then ended with a nod.
when you sat back down, jaehyun glanced at you. just a moment. a flicker of something almost soft in his expression.
like youâd done well. like you couldnât possibly disappoint him.
the rest of the meeting blurred. the managers began tossing in extra suggestionsâsmall changes, tweaks they hoped would impress the director. the man nodded, offered vague praise, and you remained at your seat, listening to it all with a practiced, patient expression.
when the meeting finally ended, you stood beside jaehyun again. he didnât say muchâhe never didâbut as he packed his laptop, he looked at you.
âgood work today,â he said. âyouâre an essential part of the team. if you keep this up, iâll make sure your nameâs considered for the upcoming promotions.â
you stared at him, momentarily stunned. the words hit harder than you expected. youâd worked for five years, given everything to this company, and thisâthis was the first time someone above you had said something that felt... real.
âthank you,â you said softly, trying not to let your smile get too big. âreally.â
he nodded. âyou earned it.â
later, when the director extended the dinner invitation, you didnât hesitate. it wasnât optional. the team needed to show up, needed to mingle, to pretend everything was a celebration and not an endless cycle of office politics masked with clinking glasses.
the bar was upscale but casual enough to loosen peopleâs ties. smoke from grilled meats hung faintly in the air, the tang of sweet sauces and roasted garlic filling the space. you sat between your supervisor and jaehyun, trying not to feel too stiff in your work clothes. everyone was drinking, toasting, laughing louder than they had all day.
the supervisor leaned forward, voice slightly slurred. âyou know,â he said to the director, âthe whole prototype? the mockup? the execution timeline? all her. y/n practically carried the whole thing.â
the director turned to you, surprised. âreally? how long have you been here?â
âfive years,â you replied, sipping from your glass.
he raised a brow. âhow is it possible i havenât noticed you until now?â
jaehyun, still beside you, said nothingâbut you felt the subtle tension in his posture.
âyouâve got a good employee,â the director told him. âitâs your job to shape her. teach her. sounds like sheâs already on the right path. with the right guidance... sheâll move up in no time.â
he raised his glass. âto y/n.â
âto y/n,â echoed around the table.
you lifted your glass, cheeks warmânot just from the alcohol but from the unfamiliar sensation of being seen. you smiled, surrounded by coworkers and approval and good food, and for a moment, just one moment, everything felt like it was finally going somewhere.
you were finally going somewhere.

the dinner had blurred into noise.
conversations overlapping, laughter rising and falling like tides. glasses clinked, meat sizzled on the grill, the warm lighting softening everyone's expressions into something hazy and unguarded. you sat at the long table, just a bit to the side, the smoky scent of barbecued meat in your hair and the echo of compliments still lingering in your chest. across from you, your supervisor had long since slipped into a drunken retelling of his glory days. to your left, jaehyun sat quietly, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. his arms were strong, veins defined even in the low light, and on his left wrist, a sleek, expensive watch glinted every time he reached for his glass. he hadnât touched his soju in a while, though. he just held the rim between his fingers and occasionally let his gaze wander across the room.
when your eyes met, it was casual, almost accidental. but you didnât look away.
âyouâre not drinking,â you said, quietly enough that only he could hear.
he offered the ghost of a smirk, the kind that barely pulled at one corner of his mouth. âsomeone has to remember what was actually said tonight.â
you laughed, a soft breathy sound, grateful for his clarity amidst the chaos.
a silence settled between you, but it wasnât uncomfortable. rather, it felt like a small space carved out just for the two of youâunbothered, untouched, a bubble where you didnât have to keep smiling or pretending. you let out a quiet sigh, swirling your untouched drink in your hand.
âdo you ever feel like you're running out of time?â you asked, voice low, not even sure why you were asking him of all people.
jaehyun looked at you, brows drawn slightly, intrigued but still calm. âtime for what?â
you hesitated, fingers tightening around your glass. the alcohol was warm in your chest, but not enough to numb this confession.
âfor everything,â you admitted. âi mean, professionally⊠things are going great. i canât complain. iâve worked hard, and itâs starting to pay off. butâŠâ you looked down, lips pressing together. âsometimes i feel like iâm trapped inside a giant hourglass, watching the sand fall, grain by grain. iâll be thirty in a few months. and i know that shouldn't mean anything, but in a world where people expect you to have everything figured out by nowâmarriage, kids, some picture-perfect lifeâi feel like iâm falling behind. like my dreams are moving farther and farther away.â
you took a breath, not daring to look at him.
âitâs just⊠sad,â you continued. âwhen you achieve something big and thereâs no one waiting at home to celebrate it with you. no partner, no family. no one to say, âiâm proud of you.ââ
jaehyun was quiet for a moment. then his voice came, soft and even.
âi can celebrate with you.â
you looked up, surprised, blinking at him. âthank you, but⊠thatâs not what i meant. itâs not the same.â
he held your gaze. then, calmly, like he was offering a solution to a logistics problem, he said it.
âthen marry me.â
your brain stalled.
you didnât understand at first. maybe you misheard him. maybe he was joking, or drunkâexcept his voice hadnât changed. his tone hadnât wavered. your stomach dropped.
ââŠwhat?â you whispered.
âyou want a family. you want someone to come home to. marry me.â
the words hung between you like smoke. absurd. unreal. your mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. you glanced aroundâeveryone else was too busy laughing or slurring their next toast to notice what had just happened.
you leaned in slightly, voice tense and hushed. âmr.âjeongâwhat are you talking about? we donât even know each other like that.â
âwe know enough,â he said without blinking.
âweâve never even had a real conversation outside of work until now.â
âso letâs have more,â he replied, as steady as always.
you felt like your heart was beating too loudly. âare you⊠are you seriously suggesting we get married?â
âiâm not suggesting it. iâm telling you iâd do it. if you said yes.â
you stared at him, at the cool detachment on his face, the quiet certainty in his voice, and felt your world tip on its axis.
he shrugged. âhow long until you turn thirty?â
ââŠmy birthdayâs in november,â you muttered, the words escaping before you could even process them. âitâs april now. thatâs seven months.â
jaehyun nodded slowly. âthen you have seven months to decide.â
he finished his beer in one slow, final gulp. then he stood up, reaching into his wallet and placing a few bills under his empty glass. you were still frozen when he stepped beside you.
âiâll take you home,â he said.
you tried to protest, voice stumbling over half-formed refusals. âyou donât have toâi can call a cab, reallyââ
he looked down at you, expression unreadable.
âthat wasnât a request. itâs your boss giving you a ride.â
and with that, he turned, waiting for you to follow. your legs felt heavy as you stood, your mind racing, still reeling from what had just happened. marry him? seven months? he was serious. he was actually serious.
you had no answers. only questions. and one man who had just offered you everything youâd spent your life pretending you didnât need.
you didnât sleep.
not really. you tossed and turned, arms flung across the bed one minute and buried under the covers the next. jaehyunâs words echoed in your skull like an intrusive melody, looping over and over again.
then marry me.
you have seven months to decide.
like some sort of countdown had been triggered.
you must have stared at your ceiling for hours, trying to make sense of what he meantâwhat it meant for youâand whether heâd been serious. but the worst part wasnât the proposal. the worst part was how calm heâd been, how effortlessly heâd said it, and how easily heâd walked away afterward like it hadnât upended your entire sense of self.
your alarm went off at seven, and you hit snooze five times. by the time you dragged yourself out of bed, you felt like your bones had aged a decade overnight. you put on your makeup with the heaviness of someone trying to erase exhaustion from the inside outâconcealer, color corrector, foundation. you went over your under-eyes twice, then a third time. you looked like yourself, but blurry. off.
you arrived to work twenty minutes later than usual, which was already enough to earn a few raised brows. no one said anything, but they noticed. you noticed them noticing.
you sat at your desk and stared at your drawers, forgetting which one you kept the monthly reports in. your fingers shook slightly as you shuffled through folders, trying to find the stupid paperwork you'd seen a million times. a stack of them slipped from your grasp and scattered onto the floor like a metaphor. you groaned and crouched down to collect them, muttering under your breath. your brain still felt like it was swimming through molasses.
thenâ
âgood morning.â
his voice. that casual, bored tone he always used in the office. neutral, even, no trace of anything buried beneath it. no sign that heâd ever said something as life-altering as what heâd said last night.
you startled so hard you hit your head on the underside of your desk.
âgoodâouch!â you winced, clutching your scalp with one hand and your pride with the other. âgood morning, mr. jeong.â
he kept walking. didnât glance down at you. didnât smirk. didnât check if you were okay. he passed your desk like any other morning, like he hadnât proposed to you over beer and smoke and shared loneliness.
a few coworkers peeked over their partitions, concerned. you gave a shaky thumbs-up and a whispered, âiâm fine,â even though you felt anything but fine.
you werenât like this. not at work. not ever. your name was synonymous with precision. discipline. control. and here you were, dropping papers and bumping into furniture like your brain had short-circuited.
you finally gathered the reports and brought them to his office.
he was seated at his desk, focused on his screen, the sleeves of his dress shirt still rolled to his elbows. your eyes caught briefly on the line of his forearm, the watch still there, still ticking.
âthese are the reports from last month,â you said, setting the folder down.
âthanks,â he replied without looking at you.
you lingered.
âmr. jeong.â
he finally looked up.
his eyes were calm. cool. like nothing was wrong. like he hadnât detonated a bomb and walked away from the wreckage.
you hesitated, your throat dry. âabout what you said last nightââ
his expression didnât change.
âweâre at work,â he said simply. âiâm being professional.â
you blinked, almost offended. âso thatâs it? you say something that insane and then justâgo back to normal?â
âweâll talk after work,â he said, returning to his screen. âif you want to.â
you stood there, gripping the folder even though it was already out of your hands, heart thudding with something sour and hot and unnamable. frustration? humiliation? confusion? all of it?
he was treating you like you were the one out of line. like you were being inappropriate for even bringing it up.
you turned around without saying anything else and walked out of his office, pulse hammering in your ears. the rest of the day dragged like wet cement. you couldnât concentrate. you couldnât remember what you were supposed to be doing half the time. you reread emails four times before hitting send. and every time someone walked past your desk, you wondered if it was him, if heâd say anything, if heâd look at you, if he even remembered what he said or if the memory of it belonged to you alone now.
youâd never felt so out of control.
you didnât know what was worseâhis silence or the fact that you wanted him to break it.
you tried to focus. god, you really did. you stared at spreadsheets until the numbers blurred into static. you answered emails with words you didnât remember typing. every time the phone rang, your heart jumped, irrationally convinced it might be himâeven though you were in the same building, separated by maybe thirty feet of glass, air, and unspoken tension. it felt like the longest day of your life. your temples throbbed with a slow, building ache, like your thoughts were pressing too hard against the inside of your skull.
you popped two painkillers around lunchtime, washed them down with lukewarm water from your reusable bottle, but they didnât help. not really. because the pain wasnât just physicalâit was mental. emotional. a kind of pressure that wrapped around your ribs and squeezed.
your mind wouldnât shut up.
you kept looping the same questions, over and over again, like your brain was stuck on a carousel with no exit.
why would he say that? why now? why you?
he already told you he'd wait. seven months. seven impossibly long, slow-burning months.
so why talk? why meet? it wasnât for him. it didnât serve him. heâd been clear. he had time, he had patience. this conversationâit was for you. you were the one desperate to make sense of it. to understand his motives. to justify the insanity of it all.
but how were you supposed to justify something that made no sense?
heâs twenty-seven. handsome. polished. wealthy. he could have anyoneâliterally anyone. girls younger than you, brighter than you, women who werenât crawling toward their thirties with a fading list of half-achieved dreams and a fridge full of takeout leftovers. why you?
a mid-level employee in a department no one paid much attention to. someone who had to fight tooth and nail just to be noticed in board meetings. someone who had accomplishments but no one to toast with. someone who fell asleep most nights with their phone face-down and on silent because no one was texting anyway.
why you?
you didnât have an answer.
you finished your tasksâbarelyâand the moment the clock hit the end of your shift, you shut your computer down with shaky fingers and grabbed your bag. your steps felt heavy, reluctant, as you made your way through the hall toward the entrance. part of you wanted to bolt, to pretend nothing had ever been said, to go home and crawl into bed and put on a show you wouldnât really watch. to sleep off the confusion like a bad hangover.
but the doors opened before you could entertain the thought. those clean, automatic glass doors slid apart with a hiss, and there he was.
leaning casually against one of the white pillars just outside, his suit jacket draped neatly over his forearm, his other hand gripping his sleek black briefcase like it weighed nothing. he looked like something out of a commercialâwell-dressed, composed, the perfect image of success. but when his eyes met yours, something flickered beneath the surface. maybe restraint. maybe tension. maybe nothing.
he walked toward you calmly, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the smooth tile.
âget in the car,â he said, voice even. âweâre going to talk. like you wanted.â
not a question. not a request.
he turned without waiting for your answer and made his way to a parked luxury sedanâshiny, deep black, windows tinted so dark you could barely see the interior. he opened the passenger door for you, as if the conversation that waited inside was just another part of his routine.
you hesitated, only for a second.
but then you followed.
because no matter how messy your thoughts were, no matter how terrified or confused or unworthy you felt, one truth cut through the noise:
you wanted to know.
you slid into the passenger seat, trying to calm the way your heart was sprinting inside your chest. the door closed beside you with a quiet thunk, sealing you into a space you werenât sure you were ready for.
he walked around the front of the car and got in behind the wheel, smooth and unhurried.
you stared straight ahead.
readyâor notâto finally ask the questions that wouldnât leave you alone.
the silence in the car wasnât uncomfortable. not exactly. but it was denseâlike fog inside your chest, heavy and silent and there to stay.
you stared out the window as the city drifted past, familiar buildings made foreign by the storm in your head. beside you, jaehyun drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gearshift. there was music playingâlow, jazzy, oldâbut he didnât speak. not until you passed a traffic light and he tilted his head, casually.
âdid you get enough sleep last night?â he asked, like he was commenting on the weather.
you didnât look at him. ânot really.â
âfigured,â he said, turning smoothly into another avenue. âyou looked like hell.â
you gave a humorless chuckle, resting your elbow against the door and propping your chin in your hand. âthanks for the compliment, sir.â
âanytime,â he said dryly.
and that was it. that was all the small talk he offered. nothing personal. nothing intimate. just an acknowledgment that he saw you. that heâd noticed.
the drive was short, and before you could make sense of anything, you were already parking in front of a modest little korean restaurant tucked between a laundromat and a bookstore. it smelled like steam, garlic, and simmered bone broth. a place where people went for real food and no-frills comfort.
âthis place has the best gomguk in the city,â jaehyun said, grabbing his briefcase from the back. âbeen coming here since i was a teenager.â
you hesitated at the door. âyou like bone soup?â
âlove it.â
you wrinkled your nose. âi canât stand that stuff. never could. not even as a kid.â
he paused mid-step and gave you a look, slightly amused. âwell,â he said, âthereâs our first disagreement as a couple.â
you blinked at him, caught off guard. âwhat?â
ânow i know you donât like gomguk. guess iâll have to avoid cooking it for you.â
you said nothing.
because he wasnât joking. not really. not entirely. and that was the part that made your mouth dry.
how could he say things like that so easily? so naturally? as if you hadnât spent the entire day unraveling at the seams while he strutted through the office like nothing had happened?
he sat across from you at the table, unbothered, scanning the menu like it wasnât even necessary. he already knew what he wanted. meanwhile, you still didnât know why you were there.
you picked something else. kimchi jjigae, maybeâsafe, familiar, strong enough to mask the taste of your confusion.
once the server took your orders and disappeared behind the curtain, you leaned forward, folding your hands together to stop them from trembling.
âwhy me?â
his eyes lifted slowly from the empty table to your face. âthereâs no reason,â he said. âi just want to give you what you want.â
âdo you say that to all women?â
he smirked. âif i did, iâd probably be married to half the city by now.â
you shook your head. âdonât do that.â
âdo what?â
âdonât treat this like a mission,â you snapped, trying not to raise your voice. âi donât need your pity. i shared something vulnerable with you, yeah. but that doesnât mean you have to swoop in and rescue me from a miserable life of solitude by offering a ring. this isnât some fairytale. i donât need a man to save me.â
âi never said you did.â
you exhaled slowly. âi want to love and be loved. to build something. something real. not this... whatever this is. a contract. a deal. a deadline to escape loneliness.â
his expression didnât shift. not a single flicker. but his voice softened.
âthen letâs say this. if in seven months, you still havenât found someoneâsomeone who makes you feel like you can build something... try it with me.â
you stared at him. hard. trying to read every intention in the lines of his face.
âjust like that?â
âjust like that.â
you couldnât look away.
and then he said it. the words that settled into the cracks of your resolve like warm rain after a drought.
âwe can love. i can love you. you can love me, if you want to. if you want to date, we can date. you donât have to feel pressured. i just think... youâre worth the risk. and i donât think you should torture yourself every day that passes just because you havenât âsettled down.â opportunities donât always come twice. sometimes you have to grab them while theyâre here. or regret it forever.â
your lips parted, but nothing came out.
you looked at him thenânot as the cold, polished man who walked the halls like a ghost in tailored suits. not as your boss. not as someone who confused and overwhelmed you.
you saw him as a man.
a man who knew what he wanted. who wasnât afraid to take action. who looked you in the eye and offered you something you werenât even sure you deserved.
his jawline. his eyes. the little wrinkle between his brows when he got serious. the calm way he listened. the confidence. the clarity.
you saw him differently.
you werenât ready to give him an answer. not yet.
but something inside you had shifted.
you just didnât know what to call it.
he didnât rush you.
he didnât push.
he just sat there across from you in that tiny booth, his sleeves rolled up and his tie slightly loosened, waiting with the kind of quiet confidence that only made your heart beat louder. he stirred his soup gently, letting it cool, occasionally taking a sip without ever looking away from you for too long.
and then he said itâcasually, as if proposing something as simple as lunch next week.
âletâs do this. iâll pick you up after work from now on. weâll go out. have dinner. spend time together. see what happens. let it unfold naturally.â
just like that.
your breath caught. âi⊠i have doubts,â you admitted, almost in a whisper. âi donât know what to say. i donât know what to feel. this is all so sudden, so... fast.â
he nodded, unbothered. âthatâs okay.â
you blinked. âthatâs okay?â
âyes. itâs not a race. but you heard what i saidâopportunities donât always knock twice. you donât have to say yes right now. just think about it.â
but you were thinking. too much.
his voice played on repeat in your mind: we can love. i can love you. you can love me. and god, wasnât that the exact thing youâd been terrified of never having?
your fingers trembled under the table. your palms clammy, your mouth dry. you rubbed your hands together slowly, grounding yourself in that simple motion, trying to breathe.
he didnât flinch. didnât ask again. just kept sipping his soup, patient as stone, like heâd already accepted whatever answer youâd give him.
you stared at your food, at the steam rising, the way the aroma filled the space between you and him like something sacred. you still couldnât stand bone soup. but somehow, being across from him made it smell less... offensive. less like something to run from.
and you remembered.
all those nights crying in silence.
all those mornings brushing your teeth with tears stuck in your throat because you didnât know if ever would come.
ever finding someone.
ever being enough.
ever being loved without begging for it.
maybe he wasnât what you imagined.
maybe he was better.
you looked up at him.
âokay,â you said, softly. then stronger. âokay. iâll try. iâll let you pick me up. weâll go on these dates. maybe⊠maybe i can love you. maybe i can let myself be loved by you.â
he paused mid-sip, eyes lifting.
your voice cracked slightly when you added, âmaybe i can stay with you.â
for a beat, the world went still.
he didnât smile wide. didnât gloat or tease.
he just gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod. his eyes warm, deep, but controlledâlike someone whoâd been expecting this moment and didnât want to scare it off.
âgood,â he said. âthatâs all i needed.â
you swallowed hard.
and for the first time since that strange proposal, something in your chest loosened.
you werenât sure if this was love.
but it was a beginning.

the next morning. everything is different.
you walk into the building like you own the damn placeâheels sharp, suit immaculate, makeup clean and fierce, ponytail slicked high like a crown. the memory of yesterdayâyour stumble, your throbbing head, your wandering thoughtsânow felt like a distant, irrelevant dream. that wasnât you. this was.
a woman who knew what she wanted.
a woman who said yes.
you smiled to yourself in the elevator. not just any smileâthat kind. the kind that curled at the corners, the kind that held secrets, the kind that felt like sin dressed in silk. the kind that belonged to someone with a man waiting outside a restaurant, ordering bone broth, and talking about love like it was something simple. doable. inevitable.
you were early. again. not by accident this time, but by choice.
you slid into your desk, organized, efficient, present. the hum of the office hadnât started yet, and you took advantage of the calm, catching up on reports and scheduling the week like the good girl you were trained to be. but this time, it was different. you werenât surviving the day. you were anticipating it.
and thenâat exactly the hourâhe walked in.
jung jaehyun.
same black suit. same silver watch. same air of cool detachment.
but today, when he passed by your desk and muttered his usual, âgood morning,â you didnât just nod like before.
you stood upâtoo fast.
too happy.
âgood morning, mr. jeong!â you sang, voice lilting and almost musical, like youâd just won the lottery.
it was instinctual. not calculated. just... you.
the entire floor stopped.
heads turned.
some eyebrows shot up. a few eyes narrowed.
jaehyun himself halted in his tracks, looking back at you slowly, his brows drawn together in the tiniest frown. he cleared his throat.
âeveryone, back to work,â he said, voice firm. and then, after one last lookâeyes narrowed at you in something between confusion and amusementâhe turned and walked away.
you bit your lip so hard it almost hurt, barely suppressing the giggle building in your throat.
the memory of last night echoed in your mind, maybe i can love you, maybe i can stay with youâand now here you were, trying not to beam like a teenager with a crush. you watched his back disappear into his office, and your lips curled up, despite yourself.
you could still feel his eyes on you. even if he wasnât looking.
after work, you waited by the entrance as the glass doors slid open.
he was already thereâlike he promised. leaning casually against his car, black coat folded over one arm, briefcase in hand, gaze scanning the horizon like the perfect ceo out of a drama. but as soon as his eyes met yours, they softenedâbarely, subtlyâbut you noticed.
âget in,â he said, opening the passenger door for you.
you slipped in without protest, heart beating faster than it had any right to.
once the car pulled away from the curb, the silence settledâbut it didnât last long.
âyou canât do that,â he said, not harshly, just... firm.
âdo what?â you asked, knowing damn well.
âgreet me like that. like that.â he glanced at you sideways. âat work.â
you shrugged. âwhat? weâre dating now. arenât we?â
âweâre seeing where this goes,â he corrected. âbut we still have to be professional. people talk. your position can be affected. and mineââ
you cut in, not harshly but with a certain fire. âiâm not going to apologize for being happy.â
âiâm not asking you to apologize.â
âthen donât ask me to pretend. iâll dial it down, sure. but iâm not going to act like you donât mean something to me when weâre under the same roof eight hours a day.â
he stayed quiet for a beat, tapping the wheel with one hand, lips twitching like he was trying not to smile.
âis this how you are with all your boyfriends?â
you grinned. âiâm worse.â
he laughed. actually laughed. that deep, velvet sound you hadnât heard much outside of formalities.
âwell, iâll brace myself,â he said. âi might enjoy it.â
you turned to the window, hiding your smile. this was really happening.
the drive back was quiet at firstâa comfortable silence that didnât demand immediate conversation. the kind of quiet that says:Â you donât need to perform, just exist here with me.
the radio was on. a soft playlist of english ballads played in the backgroundâsongs about longing, beginnings, maybe even second chances. you doubted jaehyun picked them himself. it was probably just the algorithm. still, the timing felt so precise⊠so intentional, that you wondered if the universe was helping him out tonight.
you played with your fingers over your thighs, crossing and uncrossing your legs slowly, watching the night pass outside the window. city lights in the distance. trees swaying softly in the wind. you tried to guess where he was taking you next, but the truth was⊠you didnât really care.
not knowing was part of the charm.
âwhere are we going?â you finally asked, unable to resist the curiosity.
he smiled without turning to look at you, eyes steady on the road ahead.
âitâs a secret,â he said. âyouâll have to wait and see.â
you squinted at him with mock suspicion, amusedâand yet, inside, your heart started to thump a little faster with every mile.
there was something strangely beautiful about not being in control this time. about letting yourself be taken somewhere, not out of submission, but out of trust. you werenât used to that. you werenât used to letting anyone drive. but tonight, you wanted to believe you could lean back and just... be.
and then⊠the car turned down a dark, barely lit road, and you saw it.
a wide, open lot. a giant projector screen glowing at the far end. dozens of cars parked in neat rows, some with trunks open, fairy lights, blankets, snacks. couples curled together under the stars.
it was a drive-in movie. like something out of an old romance film.
you gasped, both hands flying to your mouth as you turned to him.
âoh my god. no way. are you serious?! i love the moviesâbut i've never done this. iâve always wanted to, but⊠i donât know. it just never happened.â
jaehyun glanced at you sideways. and this time, he smiled. really smiled. not the polite, composed smile he wore in the hallways or meetingsâbut something warm. something real.
âthen it was a good idea,â he said simply.
he parked in the middle row. good view of the screen, but far enough for privacy. you were already meltingâand then he popped the trunk.
a thick blanket. two small pillows. a tote bag with snacksâpopcorn, a big soda bottle, even the exact chocolate bars youâd once said you liked during a random, probably drunk, late-night conversation. you didnât even remember mentioning it.
he did.
âdid you plan all of this?â you asked, curled slightly sideways in the passenger seat while he arranged everything with care between you.
âi just wanted you to be comfortable,â he said. âi wanted it to be... special.â
no posturing. no hidden motive. just sincerity. you felt it in the way he unfolded the blanket and draped it gently over your lap. in how he checked the windowâcracked just enough to let in the breeze, not enough to let in the cold. In how he handed you the soda first, before even opening his own drink.
the movie started. some lighthearted rom-com with ridiculous dialogue and cheesy plot points, but it didnât matter. it was perfect. low-stakes. no pressure. you curled your legs under you, blanket snug, the flickering light from the screen dancing across your skin.
every once in a while, youâd glance at jaehyun. and more than once, you caught him watching you instead of the film.
âare you bored?â you whispered.
ânot even close.â
âyou havenât laughed once.â
he turned to you, that sarcastic little smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth, eyes narrowed just slightly.
âyouâre already making enough noise for the both of us.â
you gave him a playful slap on the arm, pretending to be offended.
âthat was a compliment,â he added, amused.
you rolled your eyesâbut smiled. god, you smiled so much that night.
as the credits rolled, something shifted in the silence. the mood thickenedânot heavy, just⊠deeper. weighted with something. a moment hanging on the edge of change. your head leaned against the window as the screen dimmed, your eyes distant but your heart so very full.
he still didnât touch you.
he didnât grab your hand. didnât lean in.
but his presence wrapped around you all the sameâsolid, patient, waiting. not pushing, just there. learning how to be near you without demanding anything in return.
âthank you,â you said softly, voice almost too quiet to hear. âfor this. for everything.â
âyou donât have to thank me.â
âyes, i do. itâs not every day someone goes out of their way like this.â
he paused before answering. his tone was steady, but low.
âi want this to work,â he said. âand if that means planning teenage-level dates with blankets and popcorn, then⊠yeah. iâll do that.â
you laughed, eyes dropping to your lap.
âyouâre doing well so far.â
âyeah?â
âyeah.â
and then you looked at each other. just looked. no words needed.
but inside⊠you felt it.
your shoulders, usually tense, were light. your heart, bruised and cautious for so long, was opening again. quietly, but surely. as if whispering, iâm still here. i still want to believe.
you werenât sure where this would go. if it would last. if it would end in tears or something worse.
but right now, in his car, under the stars, with the last notes of the film still echoing through your skinâŠ
you wanted to find out.
you wanted to try.
the next morning at the office felt differentâless chaotic, more grounded. you greeted the receptionist with a small smile, your heels clicking softly against the marble floor as you made your way in, clutching your coffee cup like a security blanket. you weren't glowing, exactly, but something about you was⊠softer. less guarded. like a petal finally relaxing in the warmth of spring after a too-long winter.
jaehyun noticed immediately.
you caught him watching you from the glass-walled conference room as you entered the bullpen. he didn't stare, not in a way that would make it obvious to othersâbut his eyes followed you, just long enough to clock the change. your navy blue pencil skirt hugged your hips, the slit in the back offering just the right amount of grace as you walked. the cream blouse you wore was modest but elegant, the top button left undone, showing the delicate line of your collarbone. your hair was half-up, your makeup minimal, professionalâbut the gloss on your lips and the quiet shimmer on your eyelids betrayed a whisper of mischief. not overt. just enough for someone paying attention.
you met his gaze briefly through the glass and raised your brows in a silent hello before looking away, sipping your coffee with forced nonchalance.
by the time you crossed paths an hour laterâboth of you heading into a smaller briefing roomâhe gave you that look again. the one that asked, really? amused, but faintly disbelieving.
"good morning, mr. jeong," you greeted him politely, eyes straight ahead as if you hadn't spent the last night wrapped in his blanket, watching a movie with your legs tangled under it.
"miss y/l/n," he replied, his lips curving into a knowing smile as he held the door open for you. âvery formal today.â
you didnât rise to the bait. just gave him a brief, professional smile and walked past, heels clicking, not looking back. you were committed to the bit.
the meeting was brief, technicalâa review of deliverables, some feedback loops, nothing out of the ordinary. you contributed where you needed to, kept your tone measured, avoided lingering glances. even when he made a rare joke and the room chuckled, you only allowed yourself a small, polite laugh, hands folded neatly on the table.
he didnât push. but when you passed each other near the coffee station later, his voice dropped low, just enough for you to hear.
âyouâre really leaning into the whole executive assistant with boundaries thing, huh?â
you smirked as you refilled your mug, still not looking at him. âjust trying to keep things professional, mr. jeong.â
âof course.â he nodded once, pretending to adjust his tie. âwouldnât want to cross any lines.â
you bit your lip to suppress your grin. the game was on.
at 3:47 PM, your phone lit up with a text from his office number: meeting with the department heads in fifteen. boardroom. donât be late. signed J.J.
you rolled your eyes but your stomach did a little flip.
the 4 PM meeting draggedâthere was a lot of back and forth over campaign numbers and rollout schedules, but you held your own, taking notes, speaking clearly when your insight was needed. you could feel jaehyun watching you when others werenâtâhis gaze warm, groundingâbut he didnât speak to you directly unless it was related to the discussion. you appreciated that. It let you stay in control, let you breathe.
after everyone had trickled out and the room was quiet, you stayed behind a moment, closing your laptop and straightening the chairs without a word. he didnât move from his seat at the head of the table, just watched you as you moved, his fingers idly spinning a pen.
âdinner?â he asked eventually, breaking the silence.
you didnât look up right away. âare you asking as mr. jeong or...?â
he tilted his head, eyes playful. âjust jaehyun.â
you looked up, meeting his eyes. something flickered between youârecognition. of the past few days, the softness in your chest, the way your shoulders had finally stopped bracing for disappointment.
âokay,â you said quietly. âdinner.â
he didnât take you to a fancy restaurant or anywhere showy. just a quiet little rooftop place downtown, dim lights and mellow music, open air and the sound of the city below. you sat across from him at a small table, knees brushing under the surface. you shared dishes, laughed softly, talked about nothing and everything. he asked about your childhood; you asked about his first heartbreak. there was no rush to get anywhere. just being thereâtogetherâwas enough.
at some point, after dessert and a second glass of wine, the conversation quieted. the city stretched around you, glittering and alive. jaehyun leaned back in his chair, watching you.
at some point, after dessert and a second glass of wine, the conversation quieted. the city stretched around you, glittering and alive. jaehyun leaned back in his chair, watching you with that open expression he reserved for moments like thisâunguarded, gently curious.
âyou said you grew up outside the city,â he said, casually swirling the remnants of his drink. âwhat about your parents?â
you set your fork down and rested your elbows lightly on the table, exhaling. âthey still live in the same town. a couple hours from here.â
he nodded. âsiblings?â
âone,â you replied. âolder brother. married. two little boys.â
jaehyun smiled at that. âyouâre the cool aunt.â
you laughed softly, the sound bittersweet. âi try. i send them stickers and weird snacks from the city. but i think iâm mostly the mysterious aunt who lives alone in seoul and doesnât have a husband, which is a major point of concern for my parents.â
jaehyun raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. âconcern?â
âoh, huge.â you leaned back, crossing your arms with a mock-serious nod. âthey think iâm one heartbreak away from crawling back into my childhood bedroom with a suitcase and giving up entirely. i get the same call every weekendââhave you met someone yet?â and âwhen are you coming home, sweetheart?â like my single status is a national emergency.â
you smiled, tried to make it sound light. funny. but the knot in your chest tugged a little tighter with each word. because underneath the teasing tone, it hurt. the weight of expectation, of having let them down without really meaning to. youâd always thought, by now, youâd have that picture-perfect family. a husband. maybe a child. but life had taken its own sharp turns, and somewhere along the way, you'd lost the map.
before your thoughts could spiral too far inward, you turned your eyes toward him and asked, âwhat about you? any siblings?â
he shook his head. âonly child.â
âwow. that explains the drama,â you teased.
he grinned, playing along. âwhat drama?â
you shrugged, playful. âthe perfectly tousled hair. the quiet confidence. the whole mysterious boss with a tragic past vibe.â
jaehyun laughed, the sound low and warm. ânothing tragic, thankfully. my parents own a condo complex back in busan. they keep to themselves. ever since i moved out, theyâve stayed out of my decisions. no guilt trips. no blind dates.â
he smirked a little, taking another sip. âwhich is great for me.â
you smiled at that, but there was something about the way he said itâcasual, yes, but laced with a kind of loneliness you recognized. the kind that came with being left alone a little too much. with being successful but still carrying a shadow no one quite asked about.
you watched him for a second longer than necessary. then nodded slowly. âthat does sound kind of great.â
he looked at you then, really looked, and the silence between you shiftedâdeeper now. heavy with things not said.
the city hummed around you. glasses clinked from other tables. somewhere, a violinist was playing faintly near the street below. but you only heard the soft cadence of his breath, the way it matched your own.
and then he stood and offered you his hand.
you didnât hesitate this time. you let him lead you to the edge of the rooftop, where the view was clearer, the air colder. your arms brushed as you looked out together, shoulder to shoulder, warm skin against cool wind.
he turned to you first, eyes darker now, thoughtful. âyou donât need to rush anything. marriage, or whatever they want from you. youâre⊠okay. just as you are.â
you looked at him slowly, your heart caught somewhere between gratitude and ache. âthanks,â you whispered. âsometimes i forget.â
he stepped closerâbarelyâbut it was enough to make your breath hitch.
you met his gaze, and something shifted between you again. tighter. stronger. the kind of tension that doesnât demand to be broken, onlyâŠÂ felt.
he leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. you didnât.
your lips met his softly, a single, tentative kiss that carried the full weight of everything left unspoken. sweet, searching, the kind of kiss that says i see you. that says stay.
and when you pulled back, your eyes didnât dart away.
they lingered.
because something had begun. and neither of you was pretending anymore.
there was no big speech. no sudden declarations.
just the quiet gravity of this moment. the closeness. the way his eyes searched yours with a gentleness that made your breath catch.

april melted into may in soft, golden incrementsâlike a candle burning slow at both ends. the weather grew gentler, the evenings warmer, and with each passing day, your relationship with jaehyun unraveled in small, tender pieces that neither of you rushed to name.
you had more dinners together. nothing extravagantâhe wasnât the kind to impress with grand gesturesâbut always thoughtful. ramen tucked away in a quiet corner shop with mismatched stools. a spontaneous detour after a work meeting that led to an art galleryâs closing hour. coffee at a tiny cafe with mismatched mugs and jazz playing softly from a dusty speaker. with every outing, something softened between you. the way you spoke to each other, the way you lingered a second longer when saying goodbye, the way your eyes found his in a crowded room and stayed there.
still, at work, everything remained perfectly composed. restrained. you never touched, never called him anything but mr. jeong. no one suspected a thingâand that secrecy gave it all the thrill of something sacred. childish almost. like passing notes under a desk. a shared joke disguised in a spreadsheet. your fingers grazing when you exchanged documents. a glance too long in the breakroom when he poured your coffee before you even asked. you could feel it in the air, that charged silence of two people pretending to be just colleagues, and failing quietly, deliciously.
the project itself was moving wellâsmooth timelines, promising data. it gave you an excuse to spend more time in his office, laptop open across from his, sometimes both of you too focused to speak for long stretches. sometimes one of you talking while the other typed, nodding with half-listening affection. sometimes, on the slow days, the lines between work and personal conversation blurred gently, like ink on damp paper.
today was one of those days.
you sat across from him, legs crossed under the conference table, scrolling through performance reports while he adjusted a chart on his screen. outside the windows, the afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting pale lines across the carpet and the sleeves of his shirt. he leaned back, stretching slightly, then caught your gaze with a small smile.
âsoâŠâ he said, voice lower than usual, âwhat are you doing this weekend?â
you glanced up, biting your lip to hide a smile. âwhy? do you need me to run more numbers?â
âmaybe,â he said, teasing. âbut i was thinking something less tragic. maybe the museum? or that poetry cafe you mentioned.â
you shrugged, trying to sound casual. âdepends. are you asking as mr. jeong or as⊠jaehyun?â
he smirked, eyes playful. âi guess that depends on your answer.â
you were about to respond when the door opened without a knock. both of you sat up straighter instinctively, like students caught passing notes. the supervisor from the analytics division stepped in, scanning the room with barely concealed curiosity.
âmr. jeong,â he said, tone clipped, âthe director wants to see you.â
jaehyun stood immediately, buttoning his jacket with an easy nod. âiâll be there in a moment.â
the supervisor looked at you then. his eyes lingeredânot long, but long enough. something unreadable passed over his face. âyouâve been spending a lot of time here,â he said, like it wasnât a question.
you gave him your most neutral smile. âjust supporting the project. weâre on a tight schedule.â
âmm.â he said nothing more, just nodded once and stepped out.
jaehyun glanced at you before leaving, and there was a flicker of something in his eyesâamusement, maybe. or quiet warning. you went back to your laptop, fingers pretending to type while your heart tried to calm its sudden gallop.
the evening found you both in his car again. the sun had already begun its descent, turning the sky a soft shade of apricot. you slid into the passenger seat, closed the door behind you, and without thinking too much, leaned over to kiss his cheek.
his skin was warm under your lips.
he blinked, clearly caught off guard, and for a second, he forgot to hide it. the tips of his ears flushed red. he cleared his throat and reached for the ignition, like nothing happened, but his smile lingered, crooked and faint.
âyou keep doing that,â he murmured, not looking at you.
âdoing what?â you asked innocently.
he shook his head, eyes on the road. âmaking it hard to pretend weâre not dating.â
you grinned and didnât answer.
he drove you to the han river, where the breeze was cool and kind, and the crowds were light enough to feel private. you sat cross-legged on the grass, sharing tteokbokki and fried dumplings from paper trays, watching cyclists blur past under the lamplights. a small speaker nearby played an old ballad, sweet and melancholic, and you leaned into his shoulder without needing permission.
âi like this,â you said softly.
âwhat part?â he asked.
âthis part. where everythingâs⊠quiet.â
he didnât speak immediately. just reached over and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.
âme too.â
you looked at him, really lookedâand it hit you in that moment how far youâd come. from formal greetings and polite distance to soft laughter and shared silence. from stolen glances to kisses on the cheek that left him blushing.
and somehow, without realizing it, youâd stopped keeping count of how many times you thought about him during the day. because now he was part of your days.
and you didnât want to imagine them without him anymore.

june arrived with a subtle shift in rhythmâprojects moved faster, deadlines drew closer, and the sun stayed longer in the sky. the office felt heavier in the afternoons, warm with late spring air and the quiet hum of new beginnings.
one of those beginnings came in the form of kim jungwoo.
he was transferred from the incheon branchâa bright-eyed analyst with quick wit and a laugh that filled corners. you were told he'd be supporting the data team, and since your department handled most of the projections, he was placed right in front of your desk, where your eyes met every time you looked up. your first impression of him was that he was disarmingly charmingâtoo friendly, too easygoing for the stiff, quiet culture of the officeâbut undeniably efficient. he asked questions that made sense, learned fast, and had a way of easing tension with a joke delivered just under his breath.
you kept things professional, as always. showed him how you sorted the quarterly metrics, how to navigate the companyâs outdated database system without crashing it, how to color-code your sheets for easier reading. he listened, smiled, nodded. and eventually, he joked. made you laugh when youâd been staring at the same budget chart for hours. brought you coffee with your name scribbled on the lid in dramatic calligraphy. sometimes too much, sometimes exactly what you needed.
you liked him. platonically. comfortably. it was easy to like jungwoo.
but jaehyun noticed. of course he did.
at first, it was subtle. heâd call you into his office more frequently, asking for reports he usually didnât request until later in the week. you didnât think much of itâuntil you realized he was keeping you in there for hours. even when the topic had already run dry, even when both of you were silently pretending to still be discussing something relevant. youâd glance at your watch, mumble about needing to check on jungwooâs progress, and jaehyun would give you this lookâtight-lipped, unreadable, almost irritated.
the third time it happened, you couldnât keep quiet anymore.
âare you seriously going to keep me hostage in your office every time jungwoo asks me a question?â you asked, laptop balanced on your knees, arms crossed.
jaehyun didnât answer right away. he leaned back in his chair, one hand draped lazily over the armrest, watching you. but there was tension under his cool expression, the kind that coiled in his jaw.
âyouâre my girlfriendâ he said, voice low, measured. âeven if we have to act like colleagues in this building, youâre not just anyone to me.â
your breath caught. not because of what he saidâbecause of the way he said it. with that sharp, quiet certainty, like it wasnât up for debate.
âyouâre jealous,â you muttered, trying to smile, to turn it into something lighter.
âof course iâm jealous,â he said, leaning forward. âheâs new, heâs charming, and heâs looking at you like he already knows what you taste like.â
your face flushed.
you looked away, but only for a second.
because when you met his eyes again, he stood.
in two strides he was in front of you, taking the laptop gently from your knees and setting it on the coffee table without a word. then he cupped your face with both hands and kissed youâdeep, slow, and hungry. there was nothing tentative about it. it wasnât sweet or shy. it was possession, poured soft and molten through the shape of his mouth on yours. you sighed into it, hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulse thudding in your throat.
he pulled away just enough to speak, voice rough. âdonât tease me about this.â
you nodded, breathless. âokay.â
and then he kissed you again.
the kiss tasted like all the things you werenât allowed to say out loud. frustration. longing. the ache of pretending, day after day, that you were only what the world let you be. his thumb stroked your jaw as his mouth opened against yours, deeper now, slower. you felt your knees weaken and your thoughts scatter, all logic melting into the heat of the moment.
that night, like every night since the start of your secret, you met him outside the office. his car waited at the edge of the lot, tinted windows and the soft thump of quiet music playing through the speakers. you slid into the passenger seat, your heart already dancing.
this time, he didnât say hello.
he reached over and kissed youâharder than before, lips parting yours in a way that made your body sing. the car wasnât moving. neither of you were thinking. you kissed like it was all you knew how to do. mouths hungry, breath shallow, his hand tracing the edge of your thigh just enough to make you gasp. every time you pulled away for air, he followed. every time he groaned into your kiss, you shivered.
he never rushed.
never crossed that line you hadnât yet spoken about.
but you felt how close it hovered. just under the skin.
and as your lips brushed his one last time before pulling back, your forehead resting against his, you whispered, âi like it when you get jealous.â
his smile was crooked. dangerous.
âyou better not like it too much,â he said, his thumb stroking the corner of your mouth, âbecause next time⊠i might not let you leave so easily.â

thursday crept in quietly, with no big plans or messages of anticipation. the city, usually loud and hungry for excitement, felt unusually tame that weekâlike it had spent itself on too many events, too many evenings out, too many people chasing novelty in crowded cafĂ©s and rooftop bars. maybe it was just you, though. maybe everything had started to feel dull because your world had shifted to revolve around somethingâsomeoneâentirely new. and nothing outside of that circle could compare anymore.
you barely spent time in your apartment lately. always out. always in his car, in places that werenât quite home but felt more real because he was there. so on that afternoon, with your head tilted against the cold surface of your desk and your brain spinning from spreadsheets, you blurted it out between quiet keyboard taps.
âdonât make any plans tomorrow night.â
jaehyun glanced at you from across his office, pen in hand, eyebrows drawn. âshould i be worried?â
you smiled without looking up. âyouâre staying over. the weekend. at my place.â
the pause was heavy. not uncomfortable, but... loaded. you didnât dare lift your head until he spoke.
âwaitâwhat?â
and there it was. you looked at him finally, biting your bottom lip to keep from smiling too wide. he looked stunned. genuinely caught off guard.
âyou heard me. pack a bag. pajamas. toothbrush. snacks. i donât know. whatever you need to survive two days with me.â
his face went red. a deep, rich pink that spread across his cheeks to the tips of his ears. you laughed. he was thinking things.
âya, what were you imagining?â you teased, narrowing your eyes at him with a smirk.
ânothing!â he defended too fast. âi just... i didnât expect weâd be spending the weekend... alone like that. itâs not a bad thing. i like it. i like the idea. i justâi mean, weâve been doing great. this relationship. it feels good. real. and... if it keeps going like this, who knowsâmaybe one day weâll get married.â
you froze.
he didnât say it as a joke. it was quiet. casual. but he meant it.
married.
you hadnât thought about that in weeks. youâd been so swept up in the rush of the newânew glances, new kisses, new secret dates and stolen evenings. but that word made your heart skip, stumble, leap. it opened a future you hadnât dared imagine.
married to jeong jaehyun. walking down an aisle. your coworkers gasping. your parents trying to stay calm. him lifting your veil. kissing you like it was the beginning of forever. sunday mornings with kids and cartoons and coffee. vacations. shared bookshelves. him waiting at the door when you got home.
you shook the image out of your head.
âyou canât just say things like that,â you whispered, barely breathing.
âwhy not?â he asked softly, his eyes sincere. âitâs where weâre going, right?â
friday night came like a slow exhale.
he arrived with a small black duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a sheepish grin. you wore mismatched pajamasâstriped pants and a faded hoodie from a school club you barely remembered joining. the sight of you like that made him laugh, and the sound was so unguarded it made your chest ache with affection.
you stayed in. ordered too much food. picked a cheesy rom-com that made you cry halfway through. he kept making sarcastic comments at first, trying to pretend he didnât care, until somewhere in the middle he got quiet. his hand found yours under the blanket, warm and steady. when the credits rolled, your head was on his shoulder and your eyes were puffy.
âi hate that you made me cry,â you sniffled, wiping your face.
âi didnât make you cry. blame julia roberts,â he said, kissing the top of your head.
the rest of the night blurred. an improvised dinner of instant noodles and wine, soft music from your phone speaker, him dancing stupidly in the kitchen with a wooden spoon, trying to make you laugh. and you did. hard. the kind of laugh that made you forget to be careful.
when it got late, and the lights dimmed, the kisses came back. slow. long. searching. his hands on your waist, your fingers in his hair, breathing each other in like you were afraid to stop. the heat built, like always, but neither of you pushed further. it wasnât time. not yet. but god, it was close.
saturday was lazy and warm and beautiful.
you woke up tangled in the blankets, his arm draped over your stomach, his breath soft against your neck. the kind of morning you never thought youâd get to haveâwhere nothing was urgent, and everything felt right.
you took turns in the shower, argued over who finished the milk, and spent an hour sitting on the floor flipping through old photo albums youâd forgotten you had. you didnât plan to show himâbut he insisted. and once he started looking, he didnât stop.
âwait... this is you in high school?â he asked, pointing at a photo.
âyeah,â you said, embarrassed. âwhy?â
âyou were so cute.â
you rolled your eyes. âi wasnât popular or anything. i had one boyfriend. lasted a week.â
he stared. âa week?â
âhe said i was too uptight and boring.â
jaehyunâs mouth dropped open. âthat guy was an idiot.â
you laughed. âno, he was probably right. iâve always been... structured. controlled. even back then. guess thatâs why iâm like this nowâsuch a workaholic.â
he didnât laugh. instead, he kept looking at your photoâfinger brushing over the glossy paper like it meant something.
âif i had met you back then,â he said quietly, âi wouldâve fallen in love with you. no doubt.â
your breath caught.
he didnât look away. âi wouldnât have let you go. not for a second.â
âyou donât mean that,â you whispered, unsure what else to say.
âi do,â he said, firm. âyouâre not boring. youâre brilliant. youâre thoughtful. you see things no one else sees. you work harder than anyone i know. and... you make me want to be better.â
tears pricked your eyes again. not from sadness. justâtoo much emotion. too much truth.
âyouâre going to make me cry again,â you whispered.
âthen cry,â he said, pulling you close. âbut only if you let me hold you through it.â
the rest of the weekend passed like a dream.
grocery runs in sweatpants. a half-burnt attempt at making pancakes. arguments over which playlist was better for cleaning the kitchen. you wore ridiculous socks with cartoons on them. he made fun of you until you found his even worse ones.
you kissed between chores. kissed while brushing your teeth. kissed while folding laundry.
it wasnât glamorous.
but it felt like home.
and when sunday night came, and he packed his bag again, you didnât want him to go. not because of the sex, or the thrill, or the high of newness. but because somewhere between instant noodles and high school photos, you realized something terrifying and beautifulâ
you were falling in love.
for real.
for the first time.

towards the end of the month, your phone rings. youâre in your apartment, folding laundry with the window cracked open to let in the soft breeze of early summer. the sunlight filters through sheer curtains, painting everything in golden hues. you glance at the caller id and feel a knot tighten in your stomach. mom.
you answer.
âitâs your fatherâs birthday this weekend,â she says, skipping greetings as always, her voice a mix of cheerful anticipation and subtle reprimand. âyou should come visit. heâs been asking if weâll see you.â
you agree, almost without thinking, but then comes the dreaded question.
âand? have you found a boyfriend yet or do i need to talk to mrs. lee again?â
you rub your temple. âmomââ
âher son is still single, you know. owns a good piece of land. sells vegetables to that big food corporation. youâd be set for life.â
you exhale deeply, eyes closing in frustration.
âiâm⊠iâm seeing someone.â
a pause. then her voice lights up like fireworks. âyou are? oh, this is wonderful! finally, youâre not wasting away alone up there in that office job.â
âmom, weâve just started seeing each other,â you say, hesitating. âitâs too soon toââ
âno,â she cuts in firmly. âyou donât have time to be unsure. the train is about to leave the station, sweetheart. you either get on or itâs gone. bring him. we want to meet him.â
before you can argue, the call ends with a clipped goodbye, and youâre left staring at your phone, pulse racing and chest tight.
the rest of the week, you feel like a ghost of yourself. distracted at work, distant on your dates with jaehyun, your mind spinning in loops. he notices immediatelyâof course he doesâand it only takes one missed joke and a quiet dinner for him to call you out on it.
youâre sitting across from him, poking at your food. the restaurant is softly lit, cozy, but thereâs a distance in your eyes.
ây/n,â he says, setting his chopsticks down. âwhatâs going on?â
ânothing,â you mutter, but he leans in.
âdonât give me that. weâre together now, remember? you can talk to me. or⊠if youâre second guessing this⊠if iâm moving too fast, just tell me. i can handle it.â
your heart aches at his words. you reach across the table, grabbing his hand.
âitâs not that. iâm not doubting us,â you say quietly. âitâs just⊠my mom called. she wants me to visit this weekend for my dadâs birthday. and she⊠kind of expects me to bring you.â
he blinks. then, without hesitation, he says, âokay. then iâll come.â
you blink right back. âwait, seriously?â
âyes. if it means that much to themâand to youâI want to go. i want to meet your family, y/n. it feels right.â
your chest swells with something warm and terrifying. you nod, silently.
friday comes and your suitcase is zipped and ready by the door. youâre wearing a floral summer dress, light and breezy, with your favorite pair of nude heels that make your legs look longer than they are. your hair is pinned loosely, lip tint soft and rosy. thereâs a nervous flutter in your chest when you step outside.
jaehyun is already waiting beside his car, leaning casually against it like he belongs in a photoshoot. heâs in cream linen pants and a sage green button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, collar open at the throat. his sunglasses reflect the afternoon sun, and he looks, frankly, too good to be standing in your quiet little street. you gulp.
âneed help with those?â he says with a grin, reaching for your bags before you can answer.
the ride is filled with music, laughter, and long, thoughtful silences. the kind that don't feel awkward, but full. pregnant with meaning. he holds your hand on the highway, thumb stroking the back of it lazily, his warmth anchoring you through your nerves.
when you pull up to your parents' houseâa modest home with stone finishings and a neat little front gardenâyour heart thunders. everything feels smaller, more fragile, like stepping back in time. your mom rushes out first, apron still tied around her waist, eyes wide and wet with excitement.
and when she sees jaehyun? she nearly cries. âyouâre real,â she says, pressing her hands together like sheâs witnessing a miracle. your dad comes out next, chuckling as he wipes his hands on a dish towel.
âso this is the young man,â he says with a knowing nod, clapping jaehyun on the back. âyour mother hasnât shut up about you since she found out.â
inside, the dining table is set with your dadâs favorite dishes. everything smells like memory. you sit in the living room afterward, your parents across from you, jaehyun beside you on the couch, close enough to feel his knee brushing yours.
he speaks up first, voice calm and clear.
âi just want to say that iâm very serious about your daughter,â he says. âi have genuine intentions. weâre still getting to know each other, but⊠if things keep going the way they are, iâd like to build a future with her.â
your mother gasps, reaching for a tissue. your father nods slowly, visibly moved.
âthis⊠this is the best birthday gift i could ask for,â he says.
you shrink into the couch, cheeks burning, while jaehyunâs hand finds yours again and squeezes gently.
then comes the chaos.
your older brother, baekhyun, bursts through the door with his wife and two kids in tow. he takes one look at you and smirks.
âwhoâs the guy and what have you done with my perpetually single little sister?â
you groan. âshut up, baek.â
the two of you bicker like teenagers, tossing playful insults back and forth while your nephews cling to your legs, shouting your name with delight. you hand them the toys you brought and their eyes light up like itâs christmas.
jaehyun watches it all, amused, until one of the boys climbs into his lap and hands him a toy too.
he freezes.
and in that moment, something shifts in him. the sound of childrenâs laughter, the image of you with a soft smile, cradling one of your nephews in your arms. the warmth of this home, the love in every corner. he imagines itâhaving this with you. kids with your eyes. a house thatâs yours. your framed wedding photo on the wall. vacations. birthdays. late-night talks in bed. wrinkles and silver hair, but still loving you with the same fire.
he blushes.
and you notice.
âwhat?â you whisper as you lean close.
he shakes his head, smiling to himself. ânothing. just⊠i really, really like this. all of it.â
the night unfolds gently. dinner turns into stories, stories into laughter, and soon the sun has long set and the house is lit with warm yellow lights. you and jaehyun sit outside for a moment, watching the stars.
he wraps an arm around you, and you rest your head on his shoulder.
âyou feel like home,â you whisper, not even realizing the words have slipped out.
he turns to look at you, eyes soft. âso do you.â
and in the quiet, with the cicadas singing and the echo of your familyâs voices drifting from inside, you know.
this might just be the beginning of everything.

the month of july passed by with little to no complications. your parents were pleased with jaehyun, and you could tell that their approval meant the world to him. jungwoo, on the other hand, was playful and teasing, but with a newfound sense of respect, especially as jaehyun started to show more signs of being protective, making sure that jungwoo didnât cross any boundaries. you were still professional with everyone at work, but the chemistry between you and jaehyun was undeniable. nights together were spent laughing, and weekends were filled with stolen moments of joy, where you both shared something more than just professional courtesy.
jaehyun had made a habit of calling you during the day, just to check on you, and you found yourself doing the same. the conversations were simple, but they felt important. visits to his office became more frequent, sometimes just for work, but other times, it was an excuse to sneak in a kiss or two. the passion between you two continued to build, a slow, steady fire that became increasingly hard to ignore.
one night, a wednesday, you both ignored the weather forecast and decided to take your date out in the city. the air was warm, and the lights of the city sparkled as you walked the streets together. the mood was light, but as midnight approached, the weather took a sharp turn. dark clouds rolled in, and soon, rain began to pour, turning into a violent storm. the wind howled, and the streets quickly flooded. jaehyunâs car struggled against the force of the water, and you couldnât help but grip the seat, anxious.
jaehyun tried to keep calm, glancing at you with a reassuring smile. âitâs okay, nothingâs going to happen,â he said, though you could tell he was also feeling the weight of the storm.
the rain pounded against the windows, and the car barely moved as the currents began to grow stronger. after what felt like an eternity, you both agreed that waiting in the car wasnât safe anymore. as you both discussed where to go, a motel appeared in front of you. it seemed like an odd choice, but the parking lot was dry, and there were few other options at that hour. both of you hesitated, unsure of what to do. it was a strange situationâneither of you wanted to suggest anything that could be misinterpreted.
jaehyun was the one to break the silence. âletâs just use the parking lot, at least weâll have shelter from the rain,â he said. âand if it lasts all night, weâll have a warm place to stay.â
you nodded, a little nervous. âyeah, i mean, weâre not going to do anything else, right? just sleep, then in the morning, weâll head back to our places and go to work, right?â
jaehyun smiled at you, trying to ease your nerves. âof course, just a safe place to wait out the storm. no pressure.â
you both parked and got out of the car, a little stiff from the tension, but the moment you entered the motel, things started to feel different. jaehyun took the lead, making sure you were comfortable and settled in, giving you space to breathe. He didnât rush you, always checking to see how you felt.
both of you were tired from the day, and the weather didnât help the situation, so after some brief, awkward glances, you both decided to take separate showers to unwind. you both changed into something more comfortable, but since it was summer and it was warm, you decided to just sleep in your underwear. when you looked at jaehyun in his, the moment felt almost surreal. his gaze lingered for a moment before he quickly turned away, as if both of you were still trying to adjust to how close you had become.
âyou know,â he said softly, his voice breaking the silence, âyou donât have to feel awkward. weâre taking things at our own pace.â
you smiled, feeling your heartbeat quicken at the sound of his voice. âwhat if i want to go faster?â you said, your words surprising even yourself.
jaehyun looks at you, eyes widening slightly before they darken with something deeperâsomething heâs clearly been holding back. âare you sure?â he asks, voice low, almost trembling with restraint.
you nod, stepping closer, your fingers brushing against his bare chest. âiâm sure.â
his hands find your waist gently at first, testing the waters, but when you lean into him, he pulls you in like heâs been waiting forever to hold you like this. his lips find yours in a kiss that starts soft, exploratory, but quickly deepens, hungry and needing. he walks you backwards slowly until the back of your knees hit the bed, and you fall onto it with a soft gasp, taking him with you.
his hands roam your body, reverent and slow, like heâs memorizing every inch of you. he whispers your name against your skin, trailing kisses down your neck, over your collarbone, and lower still. your breath hitches when his mouth lingers between your thighs, his eyes meeting yours, waiting for any sign to stopâbut you nod again, your fingers threading into his hair, guiding him closer.
what he gives you isnât rushed. itâs worship. like heâs been dreaming of this moment for too long to waste it. you lose yourself in the rhythm of his mouth, the way he listens to your body, adjusting, teasing, giving. he doesnât stop until your thighs are shaking and your voice is broken with moans you couldnât hold back.
when he finally crawls back up your body, his lips kiss yours again, slower this time, tasting you. he whispers, âstill okay?â and you nod, pulling him closer.
when he slides into you, itâs not hurried or careless. itâs deep, slow, and overwhelming in the best way. you cling to him, breathless, as your bodies move together like they were made to. he holds your gaze, foreheads pressed together, sweat-damp skin sticking in the summer heat, but neither of you care.
you whisper his name like a prayer, and he answers with yours, over and over, like heâs trying to brand it into the moment.
you fall apart in his arms, not once, but twice, and he follows soon after, burying his face in your neck as he trembles against you.Â
his lips are still on yours when he pushes deeper inside you, and this time, thereâs no hesitation. your body arches under him, the stretch of him delicious and overwhelming all at once. he fills you slowly, inch by inch, like he wants to feel every reaction he pulls from you.
âfuck, you feel so good,â he breathes out, forehead resting against yours. âbeen thinking about this for so long.â
you moan softly, nails dragging down his back as he starts to move, slow at first, rolling his hips into you with precision that makes your legs tremble. he kisses down your throat, biting softly at your skin as he picks up the pace, each thrust hitting deeper, harder. the headboard taps gently against the wall, a quiet rhythm that matches the sound of your breathy moans and his soft, low groans.
your fingers clutch the sheets, the pleasure building with every thrust. jaehyunâs hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider for him, and the new angle has you gasping his name, your voice breaking. he doesnât stopâhe canât stopâlost in the feel of you, the sounds you make, the way your body clings to his like itâs the only place it belongs.
he pulls out just enough to see the way you take him, watching your slick coat his length before sliding back in with a filthy, wet sound that makes your toes curl. âlook at you,â he murmurs, his thumb brushing your lower lip, eyes locked on yours. âso fucking beautiful like this.â
when he shifts, propping one of your legs over his shoulder, the angle has you crying out, your whole body shuddering. âyouâre so deep,â you whimper, and he groans, hips snapping faster, harder, chasing both your highs like a man starved.
your climax hits hardâwhite-hot and blindingâas your walls clamp down around him, dragging him over the edge with you. he cums with a strangled moan, burying himself to the hilt, his hips stuttering as he spills into you. he stays there, chest pressed to yours, breathing heavy, hearts pounding in sync.
after a few moments, he pulls out slowly, carefully, kissing your shoulder as he lies beside you and pulls you into his arms.
your bodyâs still trembling when he runs a hand down your spine, voice low and thick with affection. âthink weâre still just sleeping?â
you laugh softly against his chest, lazy fingers tracing circles on his skin. ânot a chance.â
he kisses the top of your head. âthen letâs not sleep yet.â
and before you can even respond, heâs already kissing down your body againâbecause one round clearly wasnât enough.
you barely have time to catch your breath before jaehyunâs mouth is back on your skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your chest, between your breasts, over your stomach. his hands roam your thighs with greedy fingers, and even though youâre still sensitive, your body responds instantlyâneedy, aching, already ready for him again.
âyouâre still so wet,â he murmurs, spreading you open with his fingers, dragging two of them slowly through your folds. âfuck, baby⊠youâre dripping.â
your hips jerk when he circles your clit, light and teasing, and you whine, fingers gripping the sheets. âj-jaehyunâŠâ
he smirks, dark eyes meeting yours as he sinks his fingers into youâslow, deep, curling just right. âyou can take it, canât you?â he says, voice thick with lust. âyou want it again.â
you nod helplessly, mouth parted as your back arches off the bed. he fucks you with his fingers until youâre trembling again, begging for him, grinding down onto his hand like you canât get enoughâand you canât.
when he pulls his fingers out and lines himself up again, thereâs no patience this time. he pushes in all at once, rougher, deeper, making your breath catch in your throat. the stretch, the pressure, the heatâitâs almost too much, but you crave every second of it.
he fucks you like he owns you now, one hand on your hip, the other pressing down on your stomach so he can feel himself inside you. âyou feel that?â he groans. âyouâre taking all of me.â
your moans turn shameless, high-pitched and raw, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the room with every thrust. the bed creaks, the headboard pounds against the wall, and you donât care who hears. he flips you onto your stomach without warning, pulling your hips up, and slides back into you from behind.
you cry out at the new angle, your hands clawing at the sheets as he drives into you, deeper than before. âgodâjaehyun, iâm gonnaââ
âcum for me,â he growls, grabbing your hair and pulling your head back to kiss the side of your neck. âcum all over my cock, baby.â
your orgasm hits like a shockwave, blinding and hot and overwhelming. your whole body shakes, legs giving out beneath you as he keeps fucking you through it. he follows moments later, groaning your name as he fills you again, hips jerking against your ass, the sound of it all so filthy and perfect.
this time, when you collapse together on the bed, everything is soaked in sweat and heat and the scent of sex. your body is limp, your mind dazed, and he just pulls you close, wrapping you in his arms like heâs never letting go.
âokay,â you whisper, laughing breathlessly. ânow we might need to sleep.â
he chuckles against your hair, voice rough. âmaybe. after round three.â
that night at the motel changed everything.
it wasnât just the sexâthough, god, it was incredible. it was the way his hands learned your body like a second language, the way he whispered your name like a secret, the way you both let yourselves fall without fear. that night was messy, breathless, and soaked in want. but more than anything, it was a turning pointâa quiet, unspoken agreement that this was no longer just something casual. not for either of you.
after that, the line between love and lust blurred beautifully. sex became part of your rhythm, part of how you communicated. stolen glances in the office turned into stolen kisses in the elevator. late nights became sleepovers, and every morning-after was filled with lazy touches and knowing smiles. you memorized each otherâs moans like favorite songs, found new ways to say i want you, even when the words themselves werenât spoken.
but there was one night that stood out. the one you still think about more than any other.
it was the night you stayed over at his apartmentâjust the two of you, no distractions, no storms outside, only the slow burn between your bodies. dinner turned into kisses. kisses turned into the first round on his kitchen counter, then the second in the shower, steam fogging up the mirror as your bodies tangled and slipped together like water and flame.
by the third round, it was past midnight. you were already sore, breathless, but insatiable. he pulled you back into bed, whispering things in your ear that made your skin burn. he was rougher that timeâhungrierâgripping your hips as he fucked you deep and slow, drawing out every moan until your voice was hoarse and your mind was gone.
you were on top, riding him with lazy, desperate rhythm, your head thrown back, your nails digging into his chest. he looked up at you like you were something divine, his hands guiding your pace, eyes locked on the place where your bodies met.
and just when your orgasm started to hitâwhen everything went hot and tight and unbearably goodâthe words slipped out of you.
âi love you.â
your voice cracked around it, high and trembling, your body still grinding against his, your climax crashing over you like a wave. for a split second, everything stopped. you felt him freeze beneath you, heard the sharp intake of breath, saw the shock in his eyes.
you hadnât meant to say it like that. not in the middle of fucking. not when you were bare in every sense of the word.
it was reckless. vulnerable. raw.
but not wrong.
his hands gripped your waist tighter, and then he was sitting up, arms wrapping around you, thrusting up into you so hard and deep that you sobbed out his name.
âi love you too,â he groaned against your neck. âfuck, i love you so muchâtoo much.â
and then he cameâhard and fast, holding you like he never wanted to let go.
afterward, you just lay there on top of him, chest to chest, skin to skin, hearts pounding in unison. there was no awkwardness. no regret. only this strange, beautiful calm that settled over the room like dawn.
it was in that moment you realized just how deep your feelings for him ran.
what had started as a simple planâjust something to avoid growing old aloneâhad become the best part of your life. somewhere along the way, between the office visits and shared glances, motel rooms and quiet mornings, you had fallen hopelessly, madly in love with jaehyun.
and the craziest part?
you couldnât imagine ever thinking of anythingâor anyoneâelse but him.

august wrapped around you like a golden ribbon, thick with heat and filled with the kind of breathless anticipation that only comes after months of hard work. the project was doneâfinallyâafter weeks of stress, endless reports, last-minute corrections and late nights. but it was done. and not just done, but successful. glowing feedback, client satisfaction, numbers that sang. it was more than you had dared to hope for.
and thenâthe email.
subject line:Â promotion confirmation.
you stared at it for a full minute before opening it. and when you read the words âcongratulations, supervisor,â your breath hitched. you covered your mouth. you gasped. and then you ran.
jaehyun wasnât even at his desk anymore, he was just walking into the hallway when you caught him. âjaehyun!â you called, your voice trembling with a kind of joy that had nowhere to go.
he turned, concerned for half a secondâuntil he saw your face. and then you said it.
âi got it.â
âyou got what?â he blinked, confused.
âthe promotion.â
his eyes widened. he froze for a second. and thenâhis arms were around you before you could even finish breathing. he lifted you, spinning you once, twice, both of you laughing as you clutched his shoulders and buried your face in his neck.
âoh my god, babyâyou did it! i knew it, i knew you would!â
you were dizzy, and not just from the spinning. he kissed your cheek, your temple, your lips. everything was warm and golden and right.
he took you out that night.
you didnât go anywhere fancyâjaehyun insisted that celebrations should be personal, not performative. so he drove you to that one little pizzeria you loved, the one that made the potato crust just the way you liked it. he ordered your usual without asking, and when the wine came, he raised his glass first.
âto you,â he said, his eyes soft and gleaming under the low light. âmy brilliant, unstoppable, incredible woman.â
your heart swelled so fast it almost ached. the clink of your glasses felt like the sound of a new chapter opening.
âiâve never had this before,â you confessed, fingers curling around the stem of your glass. âcelebrating something this big. with someone i love. it feelsâŠâ you laughed, shy and overwhelmed. âit feels like everythingâs different now.â
jaehyun reached for your hand, his thumb stroking the back of it slowly.
âit is different,â he said. âbecause now, every good thing that happens to youâwe get to celebrate it. together.â
you stared at him, your chest tight with emotion, with the kind of love that had no bottom, no edge. just more.
you leaned across the table, kissing him slow, deep, grateful. pizza between you, wine in your veins, your laughter echoing off the walls of that tiny booth.
you didnât need fireworks.
this was better.
this was yours.

mid-september arrived with a softness that clung to the airâwarm enough to feel like summer still lingered, but mellowed by the early hints of fall. the leaves hadnât turned yet, but something in the wind carried change. maybe thatâs what had been stirring inside you all weekâa restless certainty that had taken root in your chest and bloomed with every kiss, every sleepy morning wrapped around each other, every whispered i love you that escaped your lips without hesitation. it had been five months, five months of chaos and clarity, of fire and softness, and you knew nowâyou didnât want to wait anymore.
you wanted jaehyun. not in a month. not after careful plans. now.
so you climbed the steps to his office, heart thudding like a war drum, nerves tangled with determination. you paused outside the door, breathed once, twice, and knocked.
âcome in,â his voice called, muffled behind the heavy door.
you stepped in and found him at his desk, back slightly hunched, focused on the glow of his screen. he looked up, and the moment he saw you, he smiledâthat slow, dazzling smile that always made your knees feel like melted waxâand stood immediately, walking toward you without hesitation. he cupped your face, leaned in, and kissed you like heâd been waiting to do it all day.
âjaehyun,â you said, voice almost trembling, more from the gravity of what you were about to say than nerves. he pulled back slightly, tilting his head.
âyeah?â
you met his eyes and, without giving yourself the chance to second-guess it, you let it fall from your lips.
âi want to marry you.â
his lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across his features. he blinked, as if trying to be sure he heard you right.
âi know, baby,â he said, a soft chuckle lacing his words. âthat was the whole deal, right? but rememberâwe said after november. weâd have more time to plan, get everything readyââ
âno,â you interrupted, stepping forward, clutching his hands tightly. âi donât want to wait till november. i mean it. i want to marry you now. today, tomorrow, next weekâi donât care when or how. i just want to be yours. forever.â
he stared at you, quiet. processing. his brows drew together, and then lifted again like the meaning had just landed fully. his hands gripped yours tighter.
âbutâwhat about the wedding? your parents, mineââ
âweâll figure it out,â you whispered. âbut this... this love we have, i donât want to keep treating it like something that needs to be scheduled. itâs real. itâs now.â
he took a breath, deep and full. and then, his expression softened into something vulnerable and glowingâhis eyes shone with something deeper than just affection. he leaned his forehead against yours and whispered, âyou want to be my wife.â
you nodded, lips brushing his as you breathed, âmore than anything.â
his thumbs brushed over your cheeks, as if committing this moment to memory. âthen weâll do it. not because itâs rushed, but because we know. weâve known. and if you want to be my wife now... then iâll make it happen. weâll get married. i promise.â
and he kissed you again, this time slower, as if sealing an oath between your mouths.
the proposal happened three days later.
he told you it was just a normal dateâdinner, then a walk somewhere scenic. no pressure. he even played it off by wearing something casual: a white linen shirt, sleeves rolled, soft beige slacks, and the cleanest pair of loafers youâd ever seen. he looked devastatingly handsome without trying.
he picked you up and drove toward the edge of the city, toward the river trail where the summer festivals were usually held. the area was quiet now, early autumn having driven the crowds away. but fairy lights still dangled from the trees, twinkling faintly as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting a warm, honeyed hue over everything.
he walked with you along the wooden path, your fingers tangled. his hand was slightly clammy. you noticed, and your heart fluttered, thinkingâheâs nervous. the realization made you giddy.
and then, just as you reached the little bridge that overlooked the water, he stopped.
âwait here,â he said softly, squeezing your hand. âdonât move.â
he jogged a few steps ahead, ducked behind a low fence near a cluster of trees, and returned with a bouquet of peoniesâyour favorite. you hadnât told him that. he remembered.
your eyes began to water.
he handed them to you, smiling shyly, and then pulled something out of his pocket.
a velvet box.
he opened it without a speech, without fanfare. his voice was soft, his eyes locked on yours like the world outside didnât exist.
âyou already said yes,â he whispered. âbut i want to do this right.â
he got down on one knee, the gravel crunching beneath him, and held the ring up.
ây/n, will you marry meânot next month, not in theory, not in some future weâre still trying to picture... but now. for real. because iâm yours. and youâre mine.â
you didnât cry. you sobbed. like an idiot. like a girl who had waited her whole life for someone like him. you nodded so fast your vision blurred and fell into his arms, and he kissed you like he was promising you the rest of forever.
in that moment, september never felt sweeter.
telling the company was a whole thing.
it started with a scheduled meetingâa weekly operations check-in with the usual suspects: team leads, upper management, the supervisor, and a couple of sharp-eyed executives who never missed a detail. it was jaehyunâs idea to make it official at work, to do it clean and direct and proudly. no rumors. no hiding. just the truth, glowing and solid like the ring that now lived permanently on your finger.
you both walked into the meeting room together, which wasnât unusual, but something in the way your hands brushed as you took your seat already had jungwoo giving you the side-eye.
the presentation started, charts and projections lighting up the screen behind jaehyun as he stood with calm confidence. it was business as usualâuntil the last slide.
"before we wrap up," he said, glancing back at the room, his eyes finding yours briefly before turning to the group again, "i have one personal announcement to make."
you swallowed. jungwoo leaned forward like a damn hawk. mr. choi narrowed his eyes suspiciously, as if he'd been waiting for this moment since spring.
jaehyun smiledâsoft, boyish, unbothered. âas some of you may know⊠or have guessed," he said, and gave jungwoo a teasing look that made him gasp, "i knew it," he muttered dramaticallyâ"y/n and i have been seeing each other for a while.â
the room exploded. a gasp from the secretary and the supervisor actually choked on his coffee. someone in the back whispered âwhat the fuckâ under their breath.
jaehyun held up a hand, a little smug, a little amused.
âand, as of last weekend⊠weâre engaged.â
your cheeks were burning. your heart thundered. you expected chaos, maybe disapproval, but what followed wasâ
cheering. clapping. wide eyes and stunned smiles. even mr. choi looked like he was trying very hard not to grin.
âyouâre marrying jaehyun? our jaehyun?â he blinked at her, then looked at jaehyun like heâd just discovered a double life. âokay, i knew something was going on. iâm not blind. but marriage? dude, thatâs insane. like, insane in the good way, butâholy shit.â
you stood up, feeling brave. âwe just didnât want to hide it anymore,â you said. âweâre really happy. and we hope youâll be happy for us too.â
the room burst into applause again. someone shouted, âwedding invites or we riot!â
the parents came next.
you visited your family first. your mom opened the door and immediately noticed the ring. she gasped, dropped the dish towel she was holding, and squealed in that way only mothers can. within seconds, your dad was there too, grinning, eyes glossy, holding jaehyunâs shoulder like he was already part of the family.
"are you kidding me," your mom kept saying. "you're engaged? oh my god, you're engaged!"
you nodded, trying not to cry as she hugged you so tight it hurt.
âheâs everything i ever wanted for you,â your dad told you quietly, before giving jaehyun a very serious handshake. âyou take care of her.â
âalways,â jaehyun promised, voice thick with sincerity.
then it was his parents' turn.
you were more nervous, but you shouldnât have been. the moment jaehyunâs mom saw you, she pulled you into a hug, muttering in korean how beautiful you were, how sheâd been praying her son would be smart enough to not let you go. his dad was more reserved, but the sparkle in his eye said everything. when jaehyun said, âweâre getting married,â his mother clapped her hands and screamed like sheâd just won the lottery.
âweâre so happy,â she said, eyes shining. âyou are already family.â
they brought out food, wine, photos from jaehyunâs childhood. his mom made you take home a tupperware of kimchi and a crocheted doily she claimed she made for whoever he married one day. she said she just had a feeling it was going to be you, and jaehyun turned red.

it turned out that weddingsâreal weddingsâtook a lot more time to plan than y/n had expected. even with jaehyunâs calming presence and the help of a surprisingly competent wedding planner, the months passed like petals falling from a tree: softly, quickly, too beautifully to hold onto.
they settled on march 28. it gave them just enough time to breathe, to build, to dream together.
from the moment they told everyoneâfirst their friends, then their families, and finally, in a hilariously formal email, the entire companyâthe whirlwind began. the announcement caused a stir so loud in the office that y/n had to leave her desk just to get some peace.
the directivos were equally shocked, though mostly amused. her supervisor just nodded sagely, like heâd been betting on this since the beginning.
âyou two were always âtoo in syncâ,â he said, raising his coffee mug in mock toast. âi give it six months before one of you becomes the other's boss at home too.â
and then came the parents.
jaehyunâs mother cried when she met y/n, tears slipping down her cheeks as she hugged her tight and whispered in korean, âyouâre even more beautiful than he said. and i knew he was in love the first time he said your name.â
her own parents, after recovering from the initial shock, became obsessively involved in the planning, sending flower samples, playlist suggestions, and opinions on wedding favors at all hours of the day. but none of it was overwhelming. not with jaehyun there, always pulling her back into calm. always making sure this was their wedding, not anyone elseâs.
they chose a venue outside the cityâa small vineyard with soft hills, blooming wisteria, and golden light that melted everything it touched. march 28 arrived with the scent of earth and lilac, a warm wind, and the sky so blue it almost hurt to look at.
y/n stood before a mirror in a white gown that made her feel like everything good in the world had been sewn together just for her. she could hear the quiet rustle of guests arriving, the soft music playing in the distance, the laughter of children running between the rows of flowers.
and then, jaehyun.
when she saw him waiting at the altar, dressed in a suit that fit like second skin, with his hair slightly tousled and a look in his eyes that could undo galaxiesâshe forgot how to breathe.
he mouthed âyouâre perfectâ as she walked down the aisle.
she mouthed âyouâre mine.â
the ceremony was intimate, emotional, wrapped in vows that made everyone cryâeven jungwoo, who tried to play it off by pretending he had allergies.
âi promise to protect your dreams as fiercely as my own,â jaehyun said, voice trembling slightly, âand to always make sure your pizza has the right amount of potato crust, even when weâre eighty.â
âi promise to choose you, even on the days we forget how lucky we are,â y/n replied, tears in her eyes. âand to never let the fire between us die, even when weâre old and gray.â
they kissed.
and the world felt new again.
their first dance was under strings of fairy lights, barefoot on the grass. the song was soft, a slow jazz tune that jaehyun had played for her once in the car when sheâd been crying. now, with her head against his chest, they swayed like the wind had been made just for them.
âwe did it,â she whispered.
âwe did,â he said. âand iâd marry you again tomorrow if i could.â
the honeymoon came a few days later. they chose santorini, greece, not for the postcard beauty or luxury, but because y/n had once told him, offhandedly, that she always dreamed of watching the sun melt into the sea from a white rooftop. he remembered.
their suite was perched on a cliff, overlooking the caldera, with white walls and blue domes and windows that opened to eternity. the first night, they sat on the balcony with a bottle of wine, their feet touching, their hands always searching for each other.
they kissed under sunsets and made love under stars. they danced in narrow streets, shared kisses between sips of ouzo, fed each other olives and sweet baklava. they were ridiculous. and in love. and utterly themselves.
âthis is the life i want,â y/n whispered one night, tangled in cotton sheets, her cheek against his chest.
âthen itâs the life weâll have,â jaehyun said. âforever.â
and this time, forever didnât sound like a fairytale.
it sounded like a promise.

three years passed like chapters in a love letterâwritten slowly, lived fully.
you and jaehyun made a home out of a sleek little apartment tucked into the rhythm of the city. it was all black wood and soft gray, velvet cushions and open windows where sunlight poured in like gold. it wasnât big, but it held your whole world. your toothbrushes leaned against each other. your shoes tangled by the door. your laughter lived in the walls.
mornings were sleepy and softâcoffee mugs clinking, your legs wrapped around his under the kitchen table, newspaper pages ignored in favor of each otherâs eyes. nights were even softerâblankets twisted around you, movie soundtracks playing in the background while your fingers danced across his skin. the kind of love that didnât need grand gesturesâjust the warmth of his palm on your thigh and the way he said âcome hereâ like home itself.
but then, one evening, the quiet changed.
you were in the bathroom. pacing. heart in your throat. your phone timer ticked like thunder in the silence. the test rested on the sink, small and stillâlike it held the weight of the universe. you sat on the edge of the tub, knees pulled up, trying to breathe.
when the timer stopped, you moved like you were underwater. slow. hesitant. scared.
two pink lines.
you stared. blinked. stared again.
your lips parted, the shape of a whisper you couldnât form. your hands trembled, and for a moment, the whole world tiltedâjust you and that tiny piece of plastic and everything it now meant.
you stepped out of the bathroom, barefoot, holding the test like it might shatter.
jaehyun was on the couch, lounging with his phone, one leg bent lazily, hair tousled from running his hand through it too many times. he looked up. paused. frowned softly. âbaby⊠what is it?â
you didnât answer right away. just walked toward himâslow, like the floor might disappearâand placed the test in his hand.
âweâre gonna be parents!!â
the silence cracked. and thenâ
jaehyun surged forward, arms wrapping around you so tight you gasped. he lifted you off the ground, spinning you around the living room like a kid on christmas morning, laughter bursting from his chest, from yours, from some place deep inside where all the hope had been hiding.
you were both crying. laughing. kissing. saying âwe did it!â over and over again like a prayer you never thought youâd get to say out loud. he pressed his forehead to yours, voice shaking, âweâre having a baby.â
âweâre having our baby,â you whispered.
months passed like petals falling from a blooming tree.
you were glowing. exhausted, but glowing.
your blush-pink maternity dress clung gently to your growing belly, printed with tiny white florals that made jaehyun smile every time he saw you in it. your feet were bare, your ankles swollen, your back ached constantlyâbut he was always there, hands rubbing your spine, lips on your shoulder, whispering, âyouâre magic, you know that?â
the nursery was nearly finishedâlavender walls painted with care, gold stars twinkling on the ceiling, and a soft mobile that played lullabies like stardust. the crib waited, delicate and perfect, with a plush bunny nestled in the corner.
jaehyun was kneeling by the dresser, sweat on his brow, tongue between his teeth as he finished the final drawer. he looked up, eyes finding you immediately, and godâhe looked at you like the whole sky lived inside your smile.
âsheâs gonna love this room,â he said, standing to press a hand to your belly. his palm warm. grounding. full of quiet awe. âour little moon.â
you leaned into him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. âi hope she gets your eyes,â you whispered.
he smiled, eyes soft with wonder. âand your heart,â he murmured. âespecially your heart.â
the room went quiet againâexcept for the soft hum of the mobile spinning slowly above the crib. gold stars turned, catching the light.
and in that moment, just one suspended, breathless moment, everything was still.
you. him. her.
and the love that built it all.
finally. completely.
beautifully yours.
#nct#nct 127 smut#jaehyun angst#jaehyun fic#jaehyun fluff#jaehyun scenarios#jaehyun smut#jaehyun#jung jaehyun#jeong jaehyun#nct jaehyun#jaehyun dad#nct masterlist#nct fic#nct dream#nct smut#nct 127#nct 127 fluff#nct 127 imagines#nct angst#nct blurbs#nct dad#nct dad!au#nct fanfiction#nct fluff#nct husband#nct scenarios#nct x reader#nct pregnant#nct reactions
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"i wanna marry her"
-matt sturniolo
summery: matt gets his wisdom teeth removed. fluff
requested by: @ikyoudreamofme đ
Matt had never been great with hospitals or anything remotely medical. So when he stumbled out of the surgeonâs officeâcheeks puffy, eyes glazed, and drooling just a littleâit wasnât surprising that he was more than a little out of it.
You barely had time to thank the nurse before he spotted you in the waiting area and stopped dead in his tracks, swaying like a newborn deer.
ââŠWhoa.â
You blinked. âMatt?â
He just stared.
Then, like heâd never seen you before, he whispered, awestruck, âYouâre so pretty.â
Your mouth twitched. âBabe. Itâs me.â
He frowned, dazed. âWait. Are you my nurse?â
âNo, Iâm your girlfriend,â you said gently, stepping forward to steady him as he teetered.
His jaw droppedâas much as it could, considering the gauze in his mouth. âI have a girlfriend?!â he exclaimed, like this was both the best and most shocking news of his life. âNo way. No freaking way.â
âYes way,â you laughed, helping him into the passenger seat of your car.
He stared at you the whole time you buckled him in, like youâd hung the stars in the sky. Then, very seriously: âDo you think sheâs nice?â
You raised a brow. âYour girlfriend?â
He nodded, cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk.
âVery nice,â you said.
âAnd pretty?â he mumbled through gauze.
âI guess so.â
He melted into the seat, utterly content. âI wanna marry her.â
You smiled, heart soft. âIâll let her know.â
He blinked slowly, like the meds were winning. âWait⊠whatâs her name?â
You paused. âItâs me, baby.â
Matt blinked again. âNo way.â Then he gasped. âOh my god, I have a girlfriend and itâs you?!â
You laughed harder than you probably should have.
But it was the look on his faceâpure wonder, pure joyâthat made you pause.
Even when he forgot, he still chose you.
âYeah,â you said, brushing his hair back from his forehead. âItâs me.â
He beamed. âI think I love you.â
You leaned down, kissed his forehead. âI know you do.â
He fell asleep five minutes later with your hand in his and a chocolate milkshake in his lap, whispering something about marrying the girl in the passenger seat.
this is very short and not very good but the idea was really cute đ
xoxo
-đ đ
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