#HeartBeat Corporation | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starryhyuck · 1 year ago

Text

pairing: ex!jaehyun x afab!reader

words: 9.2k+

summary: you left with jaehyun’s son three years ago. an opportunity arises that may push you together for better or for worse.

genre: angst, fluff, smut

warnings: penetrative sex, rough sex, public sex, daddy kink, pussy eating, cum eating, creampies, breeding kink, spanking, possessiveness, some yandere vibes

“Got yourself all dressed for dad?”

Your five-year-old son hums happily, thumbs looped through his backpack straps like he’s afraid it’s going to run away from him. You smile and comb your hands through his hair, slightly frightened by how fast he’s growing.

The knock on the door takes you out of your head before you can dwindle on how your son is slipping away from you. You smile at Jaehyun behind the door, who offers a tight-lipped one in return.

You kneel down once more and tap on your cheek. “Give me a kiss before you leave, sprout.”

Your son giggles before planting a messy kiss on your cheek, wrapping his tiny arms around your neck.

“Bye, mom! I love you!” He practically hops away from you in excitement, running into his dad’s arms with pure joy.

You nod politely at your ex, who wraps his arms around your son and holds him to his chest.

“Hey, little bear. Missed you,” Jaehyun laughs, kissing your son’s forehead.

“I missed you too, dad!”

You clear your throat. “Do you want me to come pick him up on Sunday?”

Jaehyun’s eyes return to you, cold and distant like they have been for the past three years. “I could drop him off, it’s no issue. I canceled all my meetings on Sunday.” You wonder if he’s trying to imply something, as if the time taken off means anything to you.

You brush it off. “Sounds good. Be good to your dad,” you give a final warning to your son, who does nothing but wave his hand in return.

You’re about to close the door until Jaehyun quietly speaks up. “I needed to ask you something.”

You ignore the loud sound of your heartbeat in your ears. You simply nod, urging him to continue. He clears his throat, feeling a bit awkward as your son impatiently waits for his dad to take him to his other house. It’s rare for Jaehyun to linger around like this.

“My parents — they’re having that annual anniversary party again in Seoul. They asked me to invite you.”

You’re surprised, to say the least. You haven’t been invited to an anniversary party since you and Jaehyun separated. His family was extremely heartbroken when you left and as a result, you haven’t communicated with them since. The anniversary party, however, was a huge celebration in the Jeong family. It was a mark of success since Jeong Corporation opened almost twenty years ago, and the company has now founded themselves as one of the largest in Seoul.

“Um,” you stutter, unsure of what to say. You understood what the anniversary party implied — one whole weekend with your former second family and more importantly, Jaehyun.

“Don’t- You don’t have to make a decision now. You can tell me on Sunday if you’re ready.”

You nod reluctantly, and he sends you another tight-lipped smile before departing. You watch as he and your son drive away, leaving a hole in your heart as they go.

—

“No way. He wants to fuck you again!”

“Johnny!” You scold, feeling extremely embarrassed already. “He is not! He’s just trying to be a good son, you know how he is.”

Johnny laughs sarcastically. “Yeah fucking right. Dude, it’s the Jeong anniversary party. That shit is photographed like crazy. He knows what he’s doing when he’s inviting you to go with him.”

“He’s not inviting me to go with him,” you clarify for him, even though Johnny is throwing you a side eye as you hand him a cup of warm tea. “He’s just inviting me to attend.”

He rolls his eyes. “Please. He’s been waiting for this moment with you for so long. Especially after you left him like that.”

You swing at Johnny’s arm, causing him to clutch it dramatically and hold the end of your kitchen counter as if you just shot him. You glare at him. Even though it was still a sore subject, he found a way to bring it into conversation from time to time since he thought it was the worst decision you had ever made.

It was three years ago when you left Jaehyun, taking your son and finding a new place all to yourselves. Jaehyun was shocked to say the least, heartbroken that the love of his life took his child and ran. It obviously wasn’t your first choice, but you spent too long waiting for him to come home only to be disappointed continuously. Jaehyun was just starting to become a big name within the company, wanting to work up the ladder and prove himself to his father and to the public. As a result, he spent most nights sleeping in his office and growing farther apart from you and your son. You reached a point where you couldn’t handle being abandoned any longer, leaving him and giving him his first wake-up call.

Jaehyun, like everyone else, thought you were only playing a game with him at first. No one believed you would actually separate from each other, especially because you two were so in love. However, you decided you needed to do what was right for your son. You couldn’t handle the lonely nights when your son would ask when his dad was coming home.

The custody agreement was simple, and Jaehyun agreed to whatever terms you laid out for him. You allowed your son to see Jaehyun every other weekend, and Jaehyun made sure to take work off whenever he had him. He was really trying, which you could see, but it wasn’t enough.

You’re not sure if it’ll ever be enough again.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” you mumble to Johnny, already mentally rejecting the idea of attending the Jeong anniversary party. “I mean, you know us. Our feelings get carried away all the time.”

Johnny frowns. “Are you saying you still have feelings for him?”

You sigh. Johnny has been your number one support system since you left Jaehyun, and despite his help towards adjusting you to a life as a single mother, he always rooted for the two of you to get back together.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you say clearly, stirring around the small spoon in your cup. You refuse to look up, knowing he can read you like an open book. “I’m just saying that being together for that long can cause cloudy judgment, you know? Plus, I don’t want anything to become confusing for all parties included.”

He shrugs, knowing you’re mainly talking about your son’s inability to understand why his mom and dad are suddenly spending time together. “I think the little sprout would like to have a weekend with both of his parents. He hasn’t had that since two birthdays ago.”

You recall your son’s third birthday party, which was the first festivity after the split. You awkwardly invited Jaehyun to come since you felt obligated, but it only resulted in tension while cutting the cake and opening presents.

“I know,” you whisper, feeling down. Your son asks you from time to time why his dad doesn’t stay when Jaehyun drops him off after a weekend together, and it always breaks your heart when you have to gently explain that his dad has work to attend to. Seeing the dejected look on your son’s face reminds you why you decided to leave in the first place. “But don’t you think it’s weird? Why would his family even want to see me again? I thought they hated me for leaving Jaehyun.”

“Yeah right,” Johnny laughs. “You saw the headlines after you guys split. Jaehyun started fighting so often with his parents. You know they loved you to death.”

“That might have been true before. I’m still the bitch who stomped all over their son’s heart and took their grandson away.”

“Hey,” Johnny scolds, hating when you speak lowly of yourself. “Anyone with eyes could see he was treating you miserably. It was completely fair for you to have temporary space.”

You ignore the fact that he implies the separation is still temporary.

“I’m just not sure, John. I don’t think it’s a smart idea.”

“Well, I think it’s a great one,” he smiles, brushing off your heated glare. “Listen, you can’t keep ignoring him like he’s the plague. If you don’t want the little sprout to have daddy issues when he’s older, you need to start getting along with Jae better. Just act civil, that’s all anyone’s asking of you.”

You chew on your bottom lip. “Will you come get me if I text you?”

“In a heartbeat.”

Your shoulders eventually slump in defeat, and Johnny throws his arms up in victory.

—

You’re extremely anxious when Sunday afternoon arrives, which is usually when Jaehyun comes by to bring your son back. You try to shake the nerves out and remind yourself to do what Johnny told you.

Just be civil. You can do that.

You nearly jump out of your socks when Jaehyun finally knocks on the door. You shakily open it, offering him a small smile as your son comes barging through. He attaches himself to your leg, grinning widely as he waves a new coloring book in his hand.

“Look what dad got me!”

“Wow,” you speak incredulously, kneeling down to give him a kiss. “That was very nice of him. Did you say thank you?”

“Yes!” He exclaims with glee. “Can I go color, please?”

You laugh. “Give your father a kiss goodbye first, sprout.”

Your son hurriedly kisses his father’s cheek when Jaehyun leans down, rushing off to his room afterwards.

You chuckle again. “You didn’t have to do that. Thank you.”

Jaehyun hums. “Of course. He really wanted it, and I wanted to do something special for him.”

You nod and the conversation settles into unbearable silence. You start gathering the courage to accept Jaehyun’s invitation before you wimp out but he talks before you can get the chance.

“Listen, about what I said on Friday, you can forget about it if it makes you uncomfortable. I didn’t want you to feel obligated, I just knew if I didn’t pass along the message, I would get hit on sight.”

You smile, thinking about how dangerous his mother could be when her son disobeys. “No, it’s completely fine. I mean, if it’s still okay with you, I would like to go.”

His eyes light up in surprise, and it’s the first time Jaehyun’s let his guard down with you in a while.

“Really? I didn’t think you’d want to.”

You shrug. “I think it would be nice. I’m sure the little sprout would enjoy a weekend with both of his parents too.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, smiling genuinely. You forgot how much you missed seeing him so happy, dimples peeking out. “I know he would. He was talking about how excited he was today, getting dressed in a little suit and everything.”

Your heart warms at the thought of your son dressed so handsomely. “He would be adorable. Center of the party, I’m sure.”

“Of course. You know my mother never misses a chance to show him off,” he chuckles.

“Well, I look forward to seeing what they’re going to try and pull off this year. I’m assuming your mother is making it as lavish as possible,” you joke, knowing how elated his mother was when the Jeong Corporation finally gained enough funding to throw a large-scale party.

“You know it,” he agrees, eyes sparkling in the way they used to. “I could, um, I could give you more details if you’d like.”

“Oh,” you say, feeling slightly flushed. “Sure, that sounds nice.” You open the door wider for him, stepping back so he can come inside.

It’s the first time you’ve really invited Jaehyun in. He came once for your son’s birthday party and a few other times because your son really wanted to show Jaehyun some toys from his room, but never once fully initiated by you.

“Can I heat up some coffee or tea for you?” You ask politely.

“Coffee would be wonderful, thank you,” he says, following you to the kitchen.

He takes a seat on one of the kitchen stools — the same spot where Johnny told you that Jaehyun clearly wanted to fuck you again. You clear your throat, tossing the memory aside.

“So, is there a dress code for the party? Do I need to go out and get anything?” You question, starting to brew Jaehyun’s favorite blend. The both of you choose to ignore the fact that you still remember how to make his coffee just the way he likes it.

“They were endorsing a blue and white theme this year, but you don’t have to follow those rules, of course,” he assures you.

You shake your head, turning back to him and smiling. “I will one hundred percent abide by that dress code. You know how picky those businesspeople are.”

He chuckles to himself, fiddling with his fingers nervously. You wonder if he’s just as anxious as you are.

“Right, forgot about that. So I’ll come pick up you and the little bear Friday night?”

You nod. “That would be nice. Thanks, Jaehyun.”

“Of course,” he replies, thanking you when you hand him his coffee. “The party shouldn’t last for more than two to three hours on Saturday, but you know how my father gets with the speeches.”

“He’s just proud, that’s all. It’s not everyday a company you built from the ground turns so successful.”

He nods. “Every company comes with its sacrifices though.”

You swallow at him alluding to your separation. Luckily, you’re saved by your son, who comes running into the kitchen.

“Dad!” He exclaims happily. “You’re still here!”

Jaehyun laughs. “Just having a conversation with your mom, little bear. Did you color something already?”

Your son nods, already eager to showcase his coloring skills. Jaehyun situates him on his lap, listening as your son details the process of what colors he chose and what the monkey is doing exactly in the picture.

You grow fond at the sight, not seeing Jaehyun with your son like this in so long. You never doubted that Jaehyun loved him with his entire heart, you just always wished he made more time for the both of you.

“And who did you color this for, little bear?” Jaehyun asks softly, kissing his son’s temple.

“Mom, of course!” Your son says with certainty, and Jaehyun helps him rip the picture out of the book so he can hand it to you.

“Thank you so much, sprout. I’ll cherish it forever,” you promise, clutching the paper to your chest.

Your son has an affinity for coloring and drawing, and as a result, most of your fridge and walls were covered in his artwork.

“I’ll make one for you too, dad,” your son swears, wiggling out of Jaehyun’s arms until he’s back on the floor. The both of you watch him zoom off, warning him not to run too fast.

Jaehyun smiles. “I should get him those coloring books for adults. I feel like he would love them.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah right. He only enjoys these because they have animals in them. Give him a crazy pattern and he’ll give up coloring forever.”

He laughs before agreeing with you. A part of you missed this — the happy laughter and talks of your son with someone who also wanted the best for him.

“My mother’s set up a private cabin for us for the weekend,” he shares, avoiding your stare. “But I can always have the driver take you and the little bear back here if that makes you uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” you say, briefly surprised by the fact that Jaehyun’s mother set all of you together. You would think she wants you as far away from her son as possible.

Jaehyun takes your response badly, face twisting into a grimace. “It’s no problem. I’ll tell Doyoung that you would prefer coming back here instead of staying the weekend.”

“No!” You exclaim, flushing by how loud your voice rose. “I mean, I was just shocked your mother did that for us. I thought she didn’t like me anymore.”

Jaehyun’s eyebrows shot up. “My mother? The same one that wanted to buy us an island when we told her about the pregnancy?”

You chuckle. “That was out of the kindness of her heart, Jaehyun.”

“Please,” he scoffs. He takes the coffee mug you hold out for him. “She loves you more than anything. Nothing between us would change that.”

You smile, ignoring the nerves slowly creeping up every inch of your body.

—

“Johnny, put that back!”

“Why? It’s sexy!”

You grab one of your throw pillows and chuck it at Johnny’s head. He dodges just in time, rolling his eyes and putting your lingerie back in your drawer.

“I’m just saying, you never know what’s going to happen. You’ll regret it later when you’re trying to fuck Jaehyun and you have nothing but granny panties.”

“I regret asking you to help me pack,” you sigh, trying your best to fit everything you need this weekend for you and your son in a small suitcase.

“I’m going to ignore that comment since I’m willingly giving up my Friday afternoon for you. When was the last time you went shopping?” He asks.

It actually takes you a minute to stop and think about your answer. Ever since your son was born, your wardrobe has mainly consisted of haphazard pajamas. The only time you really went out and purchased clothes is if you were attending one of Jaehyun’s fancy events.

“All of these clothes are way out of season! How have I not noticed this before?” Johnny complains, rifling through your drawers. “We need to go shopping.”

You groan. “It’s too late for that. Jaehyun is picking us up tonight!”

The doorbell rings and you sigh again, massaging your temples in an attempt to make the headache go away. Johnny takes pity on you and answers the front door himself. You hear hushed whispers before he comes back into your bedroom, a smile on his face as he carries a large box in his hands.

Your eyebrows furrow. “What’s that?”

“A special delivery from one Mr. Jeong Jaehyun,” Johnny replies, a smirk evident on his lips.

You’re still trying to recover from the shock of Jaehyun sending you anything before you realize Johnny’s ripping open the box. He looks like a kid on Christmas morning and you can’t help but lean over to see it too.

In the box is a beautiful, satin white dress that looks like a red wine lover’s worst nightmare. However, you can barely focus on the color when you can recognize exactly where this dress is from.

“Dude,” Johnny says in a small voice, sounding breathless. “It’s your wedding dress.”

And if this wasn’t your wedding dress — it sure as hell looked a lot like it. You remember the day you picked it out, insisting on going for a modern style instead of a princess ball gown. It was a simple, off-shoulder, stark white dress that you envisioned yourself wearing while walking down the aisle to Jaehyun.

And three years ago, you cried when you donated it to a local thrift store, refusing to continue to store memories of what could’ve been in the back of your closet.

You thought you would never see it again.

“He said the theme was blue and white, right?”

Johnny brings you out of your train of thought. You cough, avoiding his questioning gaze.

“Yeah.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

You narrow your eyes at his suggestive tone. He shrugs.

“I think you’re going to have an interesting trip.”

—

“Hi, dad!”

“Hi, little bear!”

Your heart melts at the sight of Jaehyun and your son together. Jaehyun’s all smiles while he straps your son into his carseat, dimples peeking out. Once he’s settled, he turns to you as he shuts the car door. You awkwardly step around each other as he helps you with your bags and you slip into the front seat.

The drive to the cabin you’ll be staying at for the weekend is about an hour from your place, which means you have two choices — you could pretend to sleep and avoid speaking to Jaehyun altogether, or you could bite the bullet and make as much small talk as you possibly can.

Jaehyun makes the decision for you.

“So how’s work?”

You muster a smile. “It’s alright. I think I’m going to get promoted soon.”

He laughs. “It’s about time. I’ve never seen anyone else at that company work harder than you.”

You stutter at the compliment. You always forget how charming Jaehyun is, and how easy it is for him to make you feel like a teenager all over again.

You can’t hold back your next question. “Where did you find it? The dress?”

His fingers tighten on the wheel.

“It’s just a dupe I found online.”

But the response sounds too rehearsed. Too practiced. It’s almost like he had been preparing himself for when you would inquire about it.

“Jaehyun,” you whisper, and he knows you can tell that he’s lying.

He sighs, looking through the rearview mirror to check if your son has already drifted off before proceeding. “When you donated it, Doyoung found out and I asked him to buy it back. I know it’s your dream dress, and it’s my fault you never got to wear it. I just wanted you to have a night where you could finally show it off.”

You don’t know why, but you feel tears welling up in your eyes. The idea that Jaehyun kept your dress for you all these years tugged at your heartstrings. If the dress was a reminder to you of your failed relationship, you can’t imagine what he felt when he came across it in his own home every single day.

You turn your head to look out the window so he wouldn’t see your crushed expression.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I did. You deserve at least that, and so much more. For now, unfortunately, this is all I can give you.”

The two of you remain silent for the rest of the trip and you’re relieved when he pulls into the cabin’s driveway. You both fall into a familiar pattern as you get out to grab your son and he heads to the trunk to take out your luggage. You’re careful to unbuckle your son from his carseat in fear of waking him, and you relax when he’s in your arms, still sound asleep.

Jaehyun opens the front door and you marvel at the beauty of the cabin once you’re inside. You’re not surprised in the slightest that Jaehyun’s mother hooked you up with an extremely lavish place for the weekend.

“Upstairs, first door to the right,” Jaehyun whispers, and you realize he’s telling you where your son will be sleeping.

After you’ve tucked him in and made sure he’s out for the night, you tiptoe back downstairs.

Jaehyun looks like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, fumbling around with the television remote, pacing in front of the entertainment dock.

“So, um, what room will I be in?”

“Oh yeah,” he says uncomfortably, quickly grabbing your luggage. “Let me show you.”

He leads you down a hallway off from the living room, opening one of the many doors and setting your stuff inside.

“Here’s your room. I, um, I’m just across the hall. There’s also another room upstairs if you want to sleep closer to the little bear but it’s a lot smaller and doesn’t have a connecting bathroom so I figured-“

“This is great, Jaehyun. Thank you.”

He clears his throat and nods, quickly shuffling out of the room. He pauses in the entryway as he’s closing the door, something clearly lingering on his mind.

“You don’t have to wear the dress tomorrow, it was inconsiderate of me to assume you would want to. I’ll have Doyoung pick up something different in the morning for you to wear.”

Before you could protest, the door shuts. You sigh and run your hands down your face.

This was going to be a long weekend.

—

You and Jaehyun barely exchange any words the next day.

As promised, a new, navy blue dress hangs outside your door when you wake up. You fail to confront Jaehyun about it since he spends most of the morning playing with your son at a nearby creek. In all honesty, you want to wear your wedding dress. On the outside, it wasn’t too flashy since you refused to add a train or any embellishments, and it was perfect for a formal event like the anniversary party. On the inside, everything Jaehyun said yesterday was correct — this was your dream dress, and you wanted to just have this one occasion to finally show it off.

You call Johnny before Jaehyun and your son return, and he happily picks up on the second ring.

“Got fucked yet?”

“You’re despicable.”

Johnny’s joyous laughter is grating to your ears.

“It’s so awkward, Johnny. We had this weird conversation about the dress so he had Doyoung get me a new one, but I actually really want to wear my wedding dress. Is that crazy?”

“Nope,” he replies, popping the last syllable for emphasis. “I think you’re just afraid of what wearing the dress means for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

He clicks his tongue, and you can picture him shaking his head at your alleged stupidity. “Think about it. The last time you wore this dress, you were engaged and about to marry the love of your life. Don’t you think wearing it again is going to spark up any old feelings?”

You ponder over the idea for a moment before shaking your head. Johnny was wrong — you just wanted to wear this dress because you liked it. You convince yourself there are no lingering feelings you should be worrying about.

“You’re full of shit.”

“Uh huh. We’ll see about that.”

However, later that night when you slip into the dress, you understand exactly what Johnny was talking about. You used to have vision boards of this dress plastered on your living room walls, picking what flowers and color scheme you wanted to compliment it. You remember Johnny even photoshopping you in this dress next to Jaehyun in his suit, the both of you standing in front of what was supposed to be your dream venue.

The memories come back to you like a tidal wave. Jaehyun planning the perfect dinner for the two of you when you were six months pregnant. Jaehyun proposing to you that night, tears in his eyes as he confessed how much he loved you. Welcoming your son into the world three months later. Trying on the dress again after his birth, worrying your body would look too different. Jaehyun getting the dress re-tailored for you when your insecurities started to affect your daily life. Your son crying night after night while his father stayed late working in his office. Postponing the wedding every year because Jaehyun was too busy. Shoving the dress in the back of your closet because you couldn’t stand to see it any longer. Finally getting the courage to pack up your things and leave, taking the dress with you. Giving it away when you felt like you needed to close this chapter of your life. The chapter where Jaehyun was supposed to be your eternal love.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until the door creaks open.

“Mom, why are you sad?”

You immediately straighten yourself and wipe away your tears, turning to see your son at the door with his head tilted in concern. You laugh when you see his suit is half buttoned.

“I’m not sad, little sprout,” you smile, walking over to him and scooping him in your arms. “I’m so excited for tonight! Look at my handsome boy!”

He giggles when you press kisses to his cheek.

“Mom,” he whines. “Help me!”

You keep your smile on as you help him fix his suit, and you hear the door creak open again when you’re on the last button.

If Jaehyun notices the redness in your eyes, he doesn’t comment on it.

“Little bear, why don’t you finish your dinner before we head out? Don’t want you getting hungry.”

Your son obediently follows Jaehyun’s orders once you’re finished buttoning his suit, running to the kitchen to eat his meal.

You walk back to the full length mirror in the corner of the room in an attempt to make yourself look as presentable as possible. You can feel his eyes on you, burning a hole in your back.

“You look beautiful.”

You falter, fingers shakily trying to put your earring on. “Thank you.”

“I thought you wanted to wear a different dress.”

“No, I actually want to wear this one.”

“Oh, okay.” A pause. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Jaehyun. Can you make sure Doyoung has coloring books and crayons in the car? In case the little sprout gets bored.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that,” he nods, and you lock eyes with him in the mirror.

He doesn’t say anything else but you know he’s worried about you. He purses his lips before closing the door, and you sigh in relief when you hear his footsteps fade away.

—

“Nice to see you again.”

You grin as you envelope Doyoung in a hug. The last time you saw Jaehyun’s assistant was almost three years ago at the last anniversary party you attended. Doyoung had always been a very loyal right-hand man to Jaehyun, and he used to be one of the constants in your life.

“You look gorgeous,” he compliments, his bunny teeth peeking out.

You thank him and he helps you and your son climb into the car, Jaehyun following after. Doyoung takes the driver’s seat and rolls up the partition so you can have some privacy. You wish he would do the opposite and make small talk with you, especially since you could cut the tension between you and Jaehyun with a knife.

Your son is seated between the two of you and he plays a helpful role in the awkward atmosphere. He starts asking Jaehyun questions about the party and who will be there, which Jaehyun answers patiently as your son bombards him with question after question.

You start fiddling with the fabric of your dress, the satin slipping between your fingers. When you look up, you see Jaehyun’s eyes locked on you, and it makes you wonder how differently this picture would have looked years ago.

This car would’ve been driving to your wedding venue with your son as the ring bearer. You would be leaning over to capture every moment of Jaehyun’s lips before you would have to kiss in front of hundreds of guests, a thought that always rattled you. You would have a bouquet of daisies bunched up in your hand, similar to the ones Jaehyun gave you on your first date. You would be scared of your veil tearing, trying your best to make sure your son didn’t accidentally rip it. All while Jaehyun stares at you like you hold the world in your hands, his fingers interlacing with yours to assure you everything would be okay.

You imagine he’s thinking the same as you if the longing in his eyes is anything to go by. But then the car hits a speed bump, forcing you to break eye contact. He returns to answering your son’s questions and you start playing with your dress again.

When you finally arrive at the Jeong Corporation building, you’re immediately greeted by your former mother-in-law.

She wraps you in her arms as soon as you step out of the car, and if you didn’t know any better, you would say she’s trying to strangle you by the sheer force of her strength.

“My favorite daughter!”

You flush at the greeting, remembering it was her favorite nickname for you. You catch Jaehyun carrying your son from the corner of your eye, his ears blooming red from embarrassment.

“Hi, Mrs. Jeong,” you reply, reciprocating her embrace.

She releases you to step back and take a look at your form. She looks exactly the same as she did three years ago, and you feel her manicured hand stroke your cheek.

“Look at you. Still so beautiful.”

You smile, slowly feeling your nerves dissipate. Maybe Johnny was right — maybe Jaehyun’s family didn’t actually hate you, they just missed you.

Her gaze flickers to her grandson, and she coos at him as she takes him from Jaehyun.

“And here’s my strong tiger! So handsome tonight!”

“Grandma!” Your son exclaims happily, chubby hands wrapping around her neck.

She gestures for you and Jaehyun to follow her inside the building as she begins walking. You share a glance with him before coming to a silent agreement, looping your arm through his in an attempt to show solidarity. You ignore the ache in your feet and the thumping of your heart, keeping your eyes trained on Jaehyun’s mom animatedly speaking to your son. She guides you to the conference room on the main floor, where the party is being held.

She turns to you once you’re at the entrance. “I’m going to take him to meet Yoojin, she’s been begging to meet my grandson. And don’t you two worry, I’ll take him back with us when the party’s over. He needs to spend some quality time with his grandparents! Have a fun night together!”

And before you can protest, she’s disappeared into the crowd, taking your son along for the ride.

Jaehyun curses. “I’m sorry. Let me catch her and let her know we want him to come back to the cabin with us.”

You stop him with a firm tug on his arm. He stares at you in confusion.

“It’s okay, let her take him. She’s right — he hasn’t had quality time with his grandparents for a while.”

He slowly nods and slips his arm back through yours. You both don’t know where to begin for the night now that your conversation helper is gone. The first stop you choose is the open bar while Jaehyun starts his formal thank you parade around the floor. You’re waiting for your drink when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

You turn to see Seulgi, who is practically beaming at you.

“I was wondering if it was you!” She giggles and hugs you tightly.

Seulgi worked as head of marketing for Jeong Corporation, and you used to chat with her quite a lot whenever you visited Jaehyun in the office.

“I can’t believe you’re here, I haven’t seen you in forever,” she hums, sitting on the barstool next to you. She tells the bartender her order before focusing back on you. “How have you been?”

“I’m good,” you chuckle, a little floored by her presence. You forgot that attending this party meant you would also be running into all of Jaehyun’s colleagues that you used to be friendly with. “How have you been?”

She huffs. “Swamped with work, but this party is always a nice change of pace. Did you come with Jaehyun?”

You also remember how Seulgi doesn’t beat around the bush.

“Yes, I came with him and our son.”

“Oh, I have to see him before I leave. I bet he’s all grown up now,” she murmurs. “So you’re all back together then?”

“No, no,” you deny, thanking the bartender when your drink arrives. “Jaehyun just invited me as a plus one this year. Or plus two, I guess.”

She hums noncommittally, throwing a mischievous side eye. Actually, in this moment, you realize how much she resembles Johnny.

You feel a hand graze your back. You look up to see Jaehyun, who’s throwing a timid smile in Seulgi’s direction.

“Sorry, can I steal her for a bit?”

Seulgi smirks knowingly. “You can have her for as long as you need, Mr. Jeong.”

His eyes narrow at her before he’s leading you away from the bar, his hand still sitting firmly on your lower back.

“Sorry to interrupt your conversation,” he apologizes in your ear, sending shivers down your spine at the proximity. “I need you to be my shield for these terribly boring conversations or I’ll melt into a puddle on the floor.”

You giggle. “So you’re throwing me into the dumpster fire?”

“More like I’m having you join me in the flames.”

The rest of the night eases your nerves more and more, and it gets to the point where you’re falling back into your old harmony with Jaehyun. You’re exchanging raised eyebrows when people aren’t looking, sharing your portion of small talk with the guests who approach you, and whispering in each other’s ears when a funny joke pops up. Jaehyun’s mom even swings by with your son a couple of times, giving you and Jaehyun the opportunity to spend some time with him together. You even manage to skirt around the straining questions if you two are back together, telling people you’re just here as friendly co-parents.

Despite that, for the first time in a long time, you felt like a family again.

By the end of the night, you’re climbing back into the car with Jaehyun while his parents wave you off, holding your son in their arms and assuring they’ll take good care of him.

Once they disappear out of view, you sink back and relax. Jaehyun laughs at you.

“Long night, huh?”

“My feet are killing me,” you complain, undoing the straps of your heels and tossing them aside.

His hand instantly comes to your neck, slowly massaging the tense muscles. You remember how he used to do that after every socially draining event you attended, and you lean into his touch.

“Thank you.”

The car runs into another speed bump and the movement causes you to grip onto Jaehyun’s arm, pushing your body into his. You gasp and he grabs your waist to steady you.

His hand feels like someone took a searing hot iron to your skin, and you grip his palm out of instinct. Your eyes glance over at him and you find he’s already looking at you, his other hand still resting steady against your pulse.

You don’t know who moves first.

The next sequence of events passes in a flurry, lips smashing together sloppily, hands flying around. You moan into his mouth and he unbuckles both of your seatbelts so you can climb onto his lap.

“Jae,” you groan, feeling his hands lift up your dress, sneaking up your thighs.

“I fucking missed you,” he says, sucking at your neck.

“Please, Jae,” you whimper, hands curled on the collar of his suit.

His hand firmly cups your clothed cunt and you whine loudly. You missed this — missed how rough he would get with you, how he would take you in front of anyone and everyone just to prove you were his. It’s why you got pregnant way before you planned to, and how you uncovered his desire to fill you raw.

“So fucking wet. This pussy’s all wet for me, isn’t that right?” He hisses in your ear, his deep voice causing you to soak your panties even more.

“Just for you, only for you,” you promise.

He captures your lips again as he pushes your underwear to the side, thumb circling your clit. You cry, hips starting to move on their own accord.

You admit, it’s been a long time since you were intimate with anyone, and it’s made you quite sensitive as a result.

“Want to feel it, baby,” his tongue traces your lower lip. You can start to feel drool pooling out of the corners of your mouth, but you know Jaehyun doesn’t care. If anything, he loves it when you’re sloppy like this. “Want to feel you cum around my fingers. Can you do that for me?”

It’s almost as if his words trigger something deep inside of you, because as soon as two fingers slip in, you’re already reaching your climax. He lets you ride out your high, hips moving back and forth on his fingers as if he was just a toy for your pleasure.

“God, you’re so fucking hot. Want to breed you so badly, baby.”

You gasp at the thought, pulling him into another searing kiss.

And that’s how Doyoung finds you, straddling Jaehyun’s lap with remnants of your orgasm leaking onto his trousers, lips desperately connected for more.

“Um, we’re back.”

You almost scream and Jaehyun pulls you closer to protect you. In your lustful haze, you failed to realize the car had come to a complete stop and Doyoung had opened the door to help you get out.

You’re incredibly embarrassed but Doyoung used to catch you in way more compromising positions before — one time, he had to uncomfortably barge in on Jaehyun fucking you over his desk because one of his shareholders was about to come in for an important meeting. So the fact that you’re still clothed lessens your shame.

You and Jaehyun waste no time, scrambling out of the car and quickly thanking Doyoung before sprinting into the cabin.

As soon as the door’s closed, Jaehyun’s on his knees, pushing up your dress and dragging your hips until you’re perfectly seated on his face. You hear the rip of your underwear but you don’t even care, fingers flying to grip his hair.

“Pretty girl,” he mumbles, tongue darting out to lick at your folds. His hands grasp your thighs, hard enough to leave bruises. “Ride my face, baby. Like you used to in those stuffy restaurant bathrooms, remember?”

Of course you remember. Every time Jaehyun brought you along to a boring business dinner, you always ended up riding his face in the bathroom just to make the night more interesting.

You channel that feeling you used to get, pushing your cunt on his tongue until you start to feel your wetness dripping down your thighs. You can hear the squelch of your pussy riding Jaehyun’s tongue, and it makes your hips move even faster to chase your release.

“S-So fucking g-good, Daddy,” you whine, your climax building in your stomach. “Gonna cum for you.”

You feel him push away in favor of sucking on your clit, three fingers prodding at your entrance. You cry at the intrusion.

“Too much, Daddy!”

“Gotta get you prepped, baby. You remember how hard it is for you to take my cock?”

You couldn’t forget. Jaehyun had to have the perfect body, almost like he was sculpted by the gods. This meant that he was extremely well endowed and most nights, it usually took a lot of prep for him to even fit halfway into your pussy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hiss when his fingers curl. “Gonna cum, gonna cum.”

You have never felt more grateful to Jaehyun’s mom until that moment, because the sound of your loud moans would normally be leading towards a noise complaint from the neighbors, but since the cabin was the only house for miles, you could be as loud as you want.

Jaehyun coaxes you through your high, abusing your clit until you beg him to stop, pushing him away from the overstimulation.

When he rises up on his feet, it’s like you two are teenagers again. He’s scrambling to take off your dress without damaging it and you’re clumsily pulling at his belt buckle until it gives. Once your dress has fallen to the ground, he throws his suit jacket somewhere and steps out of his slacks.

“No bra?” He groans, mouth immediately latching onto your nipple.

“Doesn’t- fuck, I can’t wear it with the dress. The straps will show.”

He picks you up like a ragdoll, and you find yourself being thrown over the coffee table, breaking at least three mugs along the way.

“Jae, be careful,” you try to scold him.

He doesn’t give a single fuck, taking his cock out and giving himself a few strokes.

“Raw, baby?”

You whimper, spreading your thighs apart in anticipation. “Yes, please, Daddy!”

The stretch of taking him is not unfamiliar, but it definitely fucking hurts.

“Fuck, fuck, you’re so fucking big,” you wail, hands gripping his shoulders.

“Have you fucked anyone else? Let anyone else inside what belongs to me?” He asks you, his gaze growing more intense.

There’s that possessiveness you remember. You recall every time anyone would try to flirt with you, Jaehyun would drag you home and fuck you until you cried just to show no one else could make you feel like he does. There was even one instance where he fingered you in front of some poor guy at a club, forcing him to watch as you screamed Jaehyun’s name.

“Just one guy,” you hastily confess. “Johnny set us up but he wasn’t good. He wasn’t anything like you, Daddy.”

He nearly growls at the mention of another man being intimate with you, hands pushing your thighs closer to your chest so he can sink deeper into you.

“I’ll kill him,” he whispers harshly down at you. You open your mouth and he’s fast to spit into it, watching you swallow. “I’ll fucking kill anyone who touches what’s mine.”

You groan, pulling him down so you can kiss him. He starts to thrust into you and it’s like you can feel yourself being split in half.

“Don’t act so innocent,” you breathe into his lips. “I’m sure you did the same.”

“Haven’t fucked anyone since you left,” he admits, bottoming out. You mewl and bring him closer. “I watch those movies we used to make and cum into my hand, wishing it was yours. Isn’t that pathetic?”

Early in your relationship, you and Jaehyun used to make a collection of home movies for your eyes only. It ranged from fucking in your old childhood bed to getting railed on a balcony in Paris. It used to be something for you two to look at when you missed each other, but you haven’t seen one in years. Knowing that he still gets off to them makes you even more wet.

“Fuck, you just got so tight, baby,” he groans. “You like knowing that I can only cum to the thought of you? That I picture filling you up every night, imagining you begging for my cock? Does that turn you on, baby?”

You curse loudly, body feeling like it’s on fire. His fingers trail down to pinch your clit and that sends you over the edge, crying and whimpering as you reach your third orgasm of the night.

Your limbs feel like jelly, but you know Jaehyun’s not even halfway done. He made you orgasm six times in one night before, and ever since then, he’s been trying to beat his record.

You feel him lift you up, still attached to his cock.

“I-I can’t, Jae,” you plead, but you know it’s no use anyways.

He places you down in front of the hallway mirror, where a long table stands beneath it, filled with small trinkets and ornaments. He’s quick to push them off, and you wince when you hear glass breaking.

“Jae-“

“Don’t give a fuck, baby. I’ll replace it later. Hands on the table, eyes on the mirror.”

He turns you around so your ass is facing him, and you whine when he gives it a hard slap. You obey his instructions, placing your palms on the wood and focusing on his predatory look in the mirror.

As he pushes back into you, his hand snakes around your middle, pulling you back onto his cock.

“Tell me,” he taunts in your ear. “Tell me how much you missed me.”

“S-So much,” you sniffle. “I fuck myself with that toy you bought me and I pretend it’s you.”

“Yeah?” He snickers, offering another slap to your ass. “What else?”

“I miss you all the time. Miss how I could go to your office and ride you before your next meeting. Miss sucking your cock dry before you left for work. Miss you filling me up until it was dripping out of my pussy.”

He groans, pressing his face into your shoulder and biting down.

“Tell me,” you whisper, starting to feel vulnerable. “Tell me how much you missed me.”

“You know how much I missed you, baby,” he replies, eyes locked on yours through the mirror. “You know and you never need to ask.”

And there’s no other words that need to be said, because you understand exactly what he means. You almost begin to cry at the thought of him coming home to an empty house, searching through every room for you and your son and finding nothing but empty drawers and naked bed sheets.

“Don’t be sad, baby,” he murmurs, gently thrusting into you. “You know I deserved it.”

“I missed you,” you choke out. “I missed you, I missed you, I missed you.”

He tilts the side of your face and pulls you into a kiss, railing you deeper and deeper until your toes scrape the floor.

“Please cum in me, Jae. Please, I need it,” you beg.

“Are you back on birth control, baby?”

You shake your head. “No, but it’s okay. Cum in me raw, it’s okay.”

“Fuck, baby, you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I do, and I want it,” you whisper to him, interlacing your fingers. “It’s okay, Jae. Fill up my pussy, baby.”

He curses loudly before releasing inside of you, filling you until his cum starts to drip down your thighs.

He’s quick to drop back down to his knees, pulling you to his mouth again so he can send you to another orgasm. You tell him you don’t need another one but he doesn’t listen, fervently eating his cum out of your pussy like it’s his last meal.

You reach your high just like that, with his tongue deep inside you and your hands still gripping the hallway table.

When you come down, he lifts you bridal style and carries you to your bathroom.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, baby.”

—

You wake up to the sound of birds chirping and a large heater pressed against your back. Except the large heater is actually your ex-fiancé, who’s snoring loudly in your ear.

You smile fondly, thinking about the previous night. You reach to check your phone on the nightstand, and roll your eyes at your unread text messages.

[johnnyjsuh]: so what happened? did he fuck you?

[johnnyjsuh]: oh he FOR SURE fucked you, you’re not even reading my texts rn

[johnnyjsuh]: just confirmed with doyoung

[johnnyjsuh]: have fun whore

You feel Jaehyun stir behind you and you place your phone down. He kisses your temple.

“Mm, good morning, baby. Breakfast in bed?”

You smile at the thought and nod, watching him get up and pull on his boxers. However, there’s a lingering voice in the back of your head and you wish you could stop it before it grows, but it’s impossible.

“Jae?” You question before he’s out the door, and he pauses to look at you. “Why did you never get mad?”

He blinks a few times, processing your question. He walks over and sits at the edge of the bed, and you sit up to look at him properly.

“Why would I get mad? You were doing what was best for you and the little bear.”

“But I never told you. I just-“ you place your head in your hands, guilt washing over you. “I just left you.”

You feel him taking your hands away from your face and he tilts your chin up so he can look at you.

“It was a bad situation, and I caused it. You were right — I never came home, I was overworking myself to prove something to the public, and I lost everything because of it. I needed that wake-up call from you. And I should’ve fought for you, I should’ve begged you to come back, but I couldn’t make myself do it. I convinced myself that you were better off without me, and that the little bear deserved a father who was always present. It’s all my fault and I never want to see you blame yourself for my wrongs.”

You frown, taking your hands in his and staring into his eyes.

“Do you really believe that? That all of the blame should’ve fallen on you?”

He nods meekly, suddenly too embarrassed to meet your stare, looking down at the sheets.

“Jae,” you sigh. “You know our relationship held equal weight on both sides. Did I wish you were more present for us? Of course. But it’s also my fault for never communicating to you how frustrated I was. I just didn’t know how, and it resulted in me running away from the problem instead of working through it. I think about that day all the time — what would’ve happened if I just waited for you to come home? What would’ve happened if I told you how I was feeling? It was too difficult for me to process and as much as I was confident in my decision, a part of me wishes I would’ve stayed and talked through it.”

“But you should’ve never been in that position in the first place,” he replies, looking more heartbroken than you’ve ever seen him. “I knew I was working way too hard for something that might not even be achievable. I was so desperate to be accepted that I forgot about my family. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

Your eyes well with tears and you wonder how long he’s carried this guilt with him. You lean over and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you,” you whisper, hands still desperately clutching his. “If you promise me that this time will be different, I want us to be together again. To try and be a family again.”

His eyes sparkle with hope and he kisses you again.

“I promise. I promise I’m here for our family. I’m going to be a better partner and a better father. Thank you.”

“And?” You raise an eyebrow and he laughs, nuzzling his head into your neck playfully.

“And I love you. More than anything in this world.”

His lips chase you until your head hits the pillow. You whine when his hand roughly clutches your waist.

“We-“ he starts to say, kissing down your neck. “We have to go pick up the little bear.”

“In a minute,” you respond, wanting to savor this moment with him. “Let me suck you off first.”

He groans. “Fuck, don’t say shit like that, baby. If we’re on limited time, you know I’m making sure I get you pregnant before you walk out that door.”

You moan. “I’m pretty sure you already did that last night.”

“You never know until a couple of tries later, right?”

He moves to drop his boxers but then he suddenly remembers something, looking bashful as he glances down at you.

“What? What is it?”

“I was a little too rough last night and well, I think your dress got the receiving end of most of it.”

“Jaehyun!”

“I’m sorry, I tried my best not to damage it!”

You roll your eyes and turn over, pushing yourself on your hands and knees.

“Put a baby in me and I’ll forgive you.”

“I fucking love you.”

#nct smut #jaehyun #jaehyun smut

5K notes · View notes

ghoulphile · 8 months ago

Text

janey's dad | c.h./the ghoul | part 01

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 3.7k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; age gap, hair pulling, teasing, making out, mutual pining, lipstick kink, stockings, frottage, porn w/ feelings, porn w/ plot, mild angst w/ happy ending, divorced!coop, babysitter!reader, pre-war/bomb ➥ summary | “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --” ➥ notes | i'm so sorry this is later than it should be. i am unfortunately a corporate slave and this fic just did not want to cooperate 🫠 there are a lot more things planned and this fic is turning into a bit of a beast (20+ pages and counting rip lmao) so i've decided to split it into two parts to make it more manageable for myself mostly un-beta'd atm a special thanks to @corinthianism for all her lovely help ❤️!!

feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | masterlist

Divorce is hard, but being a divorcé is downright hellish.

One of the ugliest things in the world, if Cooper Howard has any say. At least when he was a Marine, they told him where to point his gun, where to aim; nameless threats vanishing with a quick squeeze of the trigger.

Here, these ‘enemies’ aren’t enemies — not really.

It’d be easier if they were.

Worse still, they have names he holds as dearly as his own. There’s Barb, whip smart and always so clever. Then Janey, the light of his life and so sweet his teeth ache.

Once upon a time, life was sweeter than apple pie on Sundays.

Then came the separation.

Afterwards, he finds it hard to look at what’s left of his family without losing breath like a horse kick to the chest. Their absence rips open a hole inside him ten miles wide, its edges jagged and wrong.

And when he can’t take the silence anymore, fingers of malt liquor help dull the ache, though it’ll never be enough to mend what’s broken.

See, war’s something he understands.

But these domestic battlefields where he sits across from his ex-wife while lawyers barter this weekend and that holiday?

How he struggles to meet his daughter’s eye every time she asks if he’s coming home?

When Barb keeps the house and the money while he keeps the scrapbooks and the dog?

He doesn’t — can't — refuses to comprehend.

Because in what world can you reconcile looking down the barrel of a smoking gun only to find the woman you love staring back, finger on the trigger? Left out to hang as Vault-Tec orchestrates his downfall.

The true depth of their involvement is unknown, but it’s no coincidence his bank accounts dried up faster than the Mojave in June. The ink still wet when the media snapped up the story of his failed marriage.

Thus, his reputation (rather what’s left of it) unraveled faster than a spool of thread.

Knocked on his ass and kept there by a boot heel crushing his windpipe. Whose? He hasn’t got a fucking clue.

But whoever they are, they’re making sure he stays a washed up nobody who struggles to land a call back, much less pay his monthly alimony on time.

See what we can do? You were America’s favorite gunslinger - now look at you. Mind your place.

Hell, millions used to scream his name.

Nowadays people whisper it behind their hands like a dirty secret, “Oh, did you hear? Cooper Howard…” as they dissect pieces of his life into bite-sized Before’s and After’s. “Hah! Serves him right. Y’know, I never liked him much.”

While he grits his teeth and swallows his bitterness with a smile, he hates how he can’t protect Janey from snide reporters and nosy strangers. Juggling actor-father-divorcé with fumbling hands.

It’s only been six months; a heartbeat, a lifetime, and already he’s scraped thin like butter over too much bread.

Something’s gotta give.

After all, he’s only one man.

But just when it's bleakest, the clouds part.

A young woman moves in next door, the first bright thing that’s come his way in a long, long while.

At first, he kept his distance.

Exchanged vague hello’s and how-are-you’s. Then Janey took a shine; always so friendly and eager to talk about her latest books.

Any reservations he might’ve had died when he saw how enamored you are with her.

Only made sense that over time small pleasantries turned into playdates. Then those playdates turned into sleepovers.

Before long, you’re watching her when a gig runs late.

Rustling up grub and tucking her into bed more often than not these days. And when he slinks in through the door, knees aching and stripped to the bone, there you are with a shy smile and a warm meal.

So what if he takes himself in hand after you leave, stroking his cock to the thought of you down on your knees in that pretty little sundress?

Imagines the wide stretch of your ruby lips as you swallow him down, lipstick smeared an awful mess?

Cums hard to the fantasy of your teary eyes and hiccupy breaths as you choke?

What you don’t know can’t hurt you.

After all, he’s a gentleman... he promises to keep his hands to himself.

“All right, Sugar Bomb, it’s bedtime.”

Bundled in navy bedding up to her nose, Janey’s wide brown eyes peer up at you from beneath a riot of frizzy curls. Roosevelt, her ever faithful companion, plasters himself to her side. The tip of his tail swishes once, twice before falling limp.

“Ah, c’mon guys. Don’t look at me like that.” You sigh with a fond shake of the head, hip popping out to rest against the doorframe. “I don’t make the rules, I just follow ‘em.”

A muffled response sounds from the lump of little girl, “Nmfhm.”

Squinting, you dip your head and tap the side of your ear, "Pardon?"

“Mnhfmmmm.”

“Ye—eah… Didn’t catch that, Mumbler.”

Janey tugs down the blanket, her mouth pursed in a moue of displeasure. “I said,” she crosses her arms with a huff, “not until Dad gets home.”

Shit.

“M’sorry, baby. He’s still gonna be a while.” Walking across the room, you stop beside the bed and motion your hand back and forth. “Scooch over.”

Gangly limbs fumble as Janey wiggles into the middle of the mattress, her feet tangling in the blankets. Roosevelt takes a toe to the nose during the transition, but flops across her knees all the same.

Together they settle with a bounce of springs.

In the open space, you slide in.

The bed sinks under your weight, a plume of rich cologne tickling your nose; mint-spiced citrus. Cooper. Your stomach swoops, and your heart trips.

“I didn’t see him at breakfast — or lunch!” A pout tugs at her mouth. “Not even dinner. I gotta go home tomorrow. So when am I gonna see him?”

“Oh, bug.” You sigh, propping yourself up on your elbow. “Your dad’s been real busy at work. And I know that’s been hard for you, but I promise to make sure he’s here for breakfast tomorrow.”

“D’you mean it?” Her cold nose digs into your skin. “Me and Roosevelt miss him so much.”

Cuddled into your chest, Janey tosses an arm around your back. Her fuzzy head rests in the crook of your arm, springy curls tickling your skin.

You squeeze her tight and trace your fingertips over her forehead.

“I can do you one better,” you say, bopping the tip of her nose just to hear her giggle - a soft sound that sits warm and gooey in your chest. “I pinkie-promise.”

Her finger loops around yours, so small and fragile.

“I’ll even make pancakes. How’s that sound for a promise?”

“Oh, yes, please! I think Dad will like that,” a wide yawn cuts her off mid-sentence. “He’s sad, but he always smiles when you make food.”

Janey’s words — unexpected as they are sudden — cut so deep it steals the breath from your lungs. You flounder, your heart a throbbing bruise in your chest.

“... Then pancakes it is.”

As if nothing happened at all, she asks, “Do I have to go to bed now?”

“Afraid so, little miss.” Your responding chuckle sounds stilted even to your own ears. “Just you wait. When you wake up, Dad’ll be home.”

“Fi—ine, but I want extra pancakes.” Janey pauses, considers you with narrow eyes, then adds, “With syrup!”

“Whatever you want,” you say with an indulgent smile. “Now... time to sleep. It’s really past your bedtime.”

She gives you one last squeeze then lets you tuck her in nice and tight, blankets pulled up to her chin. You drop a kiss on her forehead while Roosevelt re-settles on the pillow beside her after a quick scratch behind the ears.

Everything in order, you turn to go only for a little hand to stop you.

“Yes?” you reply, glancing at her from over your shoulder.

“... can you put on one of Dad's movies?”

The tremble in her voice - like she’s about to get scolded - breaks your heart clean down the middle. Stitching on a soft smile, you nod and walk to the darkened TV set in the room's corner.

After fiddling with the nobs, static flashes to life.

“The Man from Deadhorse okay?”

The holotape sliding into the track swallows the sound of her tiny “Yeah.” Starting up with a whirl of machinery, the second-hand Radiation King flickers to life in black-and-white.

A vast plain and bright sky stretches across the screen.

Then Sugarfoot creeps into frame with the one and only Cooper Howard sitting astride the noble steed. The sheriff’s badge on his chest glints in the sun.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, already half-way to sleep.

“Anything for you, baby. Sleep tight.”

Flicking off the lights, you leave the door cracked. Walk away pretending like hearing her whisper goodnight to the TV doesn’t lance through you like lightning.

The desire to whisk her into your arms and soothe all of her ails is almost impossible to ignore.

Somehow, you distract yourself by wiping up the table, then by fixing a plate of dinner for whenever Cooper rolls in. Though all the while, how brokenhearted Janey sounded sits in the back of your mind like a leaden weight.

When Cooper stumbles into the living room, it’s half past midnight.

You’d gotten up to greet him, curled as you were in an armchair reading, when something about the stern line of his mouth gave you pause.

Where the usual lighthearted greetings lingered, a pensive stillness trembled to life.

Tension crackles through the air; a held breath of agitation. By the faraway gaze and defeated slump of his broad shoulders, it’s plain to see the night didn’t go as intended. And no matter how much you long to soothe, you can’t.

After all, he’s not yours to touch.

Instead, you offer a sympathetic smile and ask, “Rough night, huh?”

Cooper ignores the prompt, squeezing past with a brief touch to your elbow as he makes a beeline for the dry bar. The heat of his body is there and gone in a flash, his cologne teasing your senses. He says, “Thought you’d be asleep by now.”

Your heart flutters in your throat. “Ah,” you lick your lips, “well, I was going to finish my chapter first.”

Humming, he turns his back to you and fiddles with high balls and decanters. The tink of crystal glassware fills the air as he speculates which alcohol goes best with his mood.

“Thanks again for watching Janey.” He nods in approval and fixes his whiskey neat. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, Mr. Howard.” You shrug. “She’s a sweetheart.”

He shoots you a dry look from over his shoulder, stirring the dark amber of his drink with a forefinger. When he sucks his skin clean with a soft pop - a flash of a pink tongue taunting, teasing - your stomach swoops.

God, I wonder what else his mouth can do.

Flustered, you clear your throat and stare at a spot on the wall.

“How many times do I gotta tell you to call me Coop?” he says, digging through some drawers until he finds what he’s searching for: a lighter. “It must be a million and one by now.”

Flint sparks as flames jump, eating away at the end of a cigarette. Cooper inhales in short little puffs, pulling on the filter. His cheeks hollow, the shadows enhancing the cut of his jaw before the tip catches alight.

“Well,” he exhales, his gaze catching yours through a plume of smoke as he turns, brow raised. “Anything to say for yourself?”

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” you chuckle.

The corner of his mouth lifts in a lopsided smirk. “I’ll drink to that.” He knocks back the last finger of whiskey before refilling with gin.

Springs groan in protest when he drops to the couch, settling in with an outstretched arm and wide spread thighs.

“It’s been a long fucking day,” he rasps.

Gulping, you try to ignore the space at his feet.

The stirrings of desire provoked by the urge to sink to your knees and fill it with your body, to ease tension from those shoulders with your hands, your mouth, your cunt — if he’d let you.

“You heading home?” Nursing the fresh drink, he swallows a mouthful, only to hiss low through his teeth at the chemical burn. His throat bobs, framed by the open collar of his shirt. “Whew! Goddamn, that’s strong.”

“No, I can stay for a while.” A bird on a wire, you perch on the cushion beside him. “Got nothing else planned for tonight, anyhow.”

Cooper snorts. “I doubt that very much. A sweet young thing like you,” he motions towards you with his glass, “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of fellas calling, especially on a Friday night. Don’t waste your time with me.”

“That’s not why I--” you stop yourself short.

Save for the bustling LA avenue right outside the complex, the apartment itself is stone silent for several heartbeats. Words hover on the back of your tongue, catching in the bend of your throat molasses thick.

Meanwhile, Cooper continues to swirl the alcohol in his glass.

Maybe in a different life, you wouldn’t hesitate to express yourself.

But here — with him — you shouldn’t.

Christ sake, he’s a grieving divorcé, you chastise yourself. The last thing he needs is me trying to lay one on him.

When you speak, his name glides off your lips for the first time, clementine sweet, “... Cooper, I’m not wasting my time. I enjoy spending it with Janey - and you.”

“Well,” he husks, hooded eyes dragging down your visage in a slow once-over, “you’re the first one in a long while to feel that way, sweetheart.”

Dripping like honey whiskey from Cooper’s lips, the simple phrase burns its way down-down-down until it blooms like liquid fire in your belly. Warms you all the way to your toes as your heart pounds against your ribcage.

“I mean it.” Your knuckles twist in the pleats of your sundress, bolts of blue fabric bunched around your knees. “Everything I do is because I want to.”

The flash of red nails plucking at the sheer nylon of your stockings snaps up his attention, his gaze snagging - staying as he chases the curve of your exposed leg, hungry.

He wets his lips, and tenses his jaw when he spots how the soft fat of your thigh dimples in because of your garter. “That’s awful sweet of you to say.”

You tremble beneath the intensity of his attention.

Greedy.

Little kisses of awareness spark bright along the path his eyes carve like the caress of shy fingertips.

However, before you’re able to confront him about his interest, the heat leaches from his expression, grows mute and cold like a muzzled dog.

Readjusting the waistband of his slacks with a tug, he says, “I know you got better things to do than keep an old man company.”

Irritation sparks. “Cooper--”

“If this is about paying you for tonight,” his lips quirk into a sheepish smile, “I won’t be able to yet.” He scrubs a hand through the stubble peppered along his jaw. “The gig tonight didn’t… Well, it doesn’t matter.”

“No, that’s not what I --”

He plows on, “Anyway, the one I’ve got tomorrow should be enough. How about I stop by around seven o’clock? I’ll treat you to dinner as an apology.”

Frustration bubbles beneath the surface of your skin, antagonism thrumming through your veins. Your hands shake almost as much as your voice. “Cooper!”

“I… uh, yes?” He blinks.

Your brows furrow. “You don’t get it,” you say. “I mean, you truly don’t know?”

“I’m afraid there’s a lot I don’t get. You’re gonna have to be more particular.”

Maybe not said in so many words (or at all) but actions speak far louder.

Otherwise, why else would you spend most of your time in his apartment, fill every spare moment with Janey, and reserve evenings for his company?

Hell, you even cook and clean!

Almost scream your interest from the rooftops, and it’s obvious to everyone but him, it seems.

Here you are thinking he was preserving your dignity whenever he ignored a passing comment or lingering touch when, in fact, he’d been oblivious to their existence to begin with.

How a man can be so obtuse when you’re throwing yourself at him is beyond you.

If he wasn’t so captivating…

“Are you kidding me,” you ask, mindful of your tone, “how could you not know?” You throw your hands in the air. “I’ve been — for months!”

“Well, I don’t have a goddamn clue what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he snarks, setting his glass on the table. “Care to enlighten me?”

Fine. If that’s how he wants to play, let’s play.

When he moves to take another drag from his cigarette, you strike, fingers locking around his wrist mid-lift. And although his glassy eyes narrow, he keeps his hand still.

Waiting to see what you'll do.

Tucking your knee under you for balance, you bend forward and watch his face from beneath your lashes. When your lips wrap around the filter, a dark hunger bleeds into his expression, his pulse a steady thud against the pad of your thumb.

Inhaling, the cherry lights up, a flashbang in the dim overhead light.

Cooper’s breath hitches, and then you’re pulling away with a lungful of smoke; the taste of ash heavy on your tongue.

He tracks your movements with greed, gaze flicking for the briefest of moments past your chin before refocusing on the ring of red lipstick staining white paper.

“If you wanted one,” he chokes, gripping the back of the couch with white knuckles, “all you had to do was ask.”

With a coquettish grin, you exhale to the side and stare at him with hooded eyes. “Is that so?” Plucking the cigarette out of his limp hold, you stub it out in the ashtray. “What if I wanted to ask for something else, Mr. Howard?”

The next moment finds you deposited in his lap, his hands shooting out to grab at your waist only to freeze before they make contact.

“Woah! I--”

“Tell me something.”

Your lips caress the shell of his ear, sharing breath - sharing space as you plaster yourself to his front, arms looped over his shoulders. He jolts, body trembling with restraint.

“Would you give me what I wanted if I said please?”

The distance between you snaps taut with anticipation. “C-Coop,” he stutters. “Call me Coop.”

You hum. “Well, Coop, would you?”

“That depends almost entirely on what you’re asking for, sweetheart.”

Red nails skate along the back of his neck, play in the downy soft hair of his nape just to feel him shiver. And then you’re leaning back with your hands braced on his knees, your legs falling open in invitation.

The hem of your dress bunches around your waist, exposing the soft cotton of your underwear, and the darkened patch of slick soaking through.

“I think you know exactly what I want,” you purr. “Because you want it too. Don’t you?”

He bites down on a strangled moan when your hips arch forward, rocking the soft plush of your ass against the heavy weight of his thickening cock. The zipper digs into your skin as he tents the front of his slacks.

Mouth dropping open, his tongue flicks out to wet his lips - a slick circle of temptation that makes you clench. “I, uh, I don’t…”

Reaching between your splayed thighs, you hook a finger beneath your panties and pull the fabric aside. He jerks forward, exhaling hard at the flash of your soaked cunt and twitching clit.

“C’mon, be honest.”

With a sigh, you gather your arousal on the tips of your fingers.

Cooper’s gaze is a heavy weight pinning you in place as you pretend it’s him dragging his knuckles over the top of your mond. Him dragging calloused fingers up along sticky folds to play with your sensitive clit, ripping soft little mewls from your lips.

“Can’t you see what you do to me, Coop?” you say, pulling your hand away to show the webs of slick stretching between your fingers. “I’m so wet. Please, I’ve wanted you for so long…”

His hips rock against your ass in an aborted thrust. “Shit - shit!” Eyes slamming shut, he grits his teeth and digs his fingers into your sides hard enough to bruise. “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --”

“Why not?” Your hand brushes over his groin. “I can feel how hard you are.”

“It isn’t right, that’s why.” He stutters, stumbles over his words, “Besides, Janey…”

“I can be quiet,” you say, lips trembling. “I promise.”

“Goddamnit, you can’t say things like that and expect me not to --” Cutting himself off, strong fingers seize your chin and tilt until you’re met with Cooper’s severe expression, his scorching gaze. “You need to tell me now: are you sure this is what you want?”

There’s no hesitation, “Yes.”

In what world would you refuse?

The words barely pass your lips before Cooper’s bowing his dark head, mouth ravenous as it captures yours in a slick glide of bruising lips and hungry tongues.

He steals your breath, licks into your mouth and traces along the sensitive inside of your lip.

Pulse jump starting, your toes curl over the edge of the cushion and your thighs squeeze the barrel of his chest, kneecaps digging into his ribs.

“Oh,” a moan punches itself out of your throat - a breathy little thing swallowed up by his lips. “That’s--”

Anticipation swells, simmers between you like a band before it snaps. A strong forearm locks around your waist, tugging you into the cradle of his chest until you’re plastered from stem to stern.

Too hungry for tenderness as his free hand slips up to cup the back of your head, fingers catching in the briar of your hair and tugging at the roots.

You claw at his shoulders while sparks of pain ricochet down your neck, sufficing into a prickly flush that heats your blood. “Hnn, Cooper,” you gasp.

He murmurs your name through languid flicks of his tongue and sharp little nips of skin that leave your mouth tender and swollen. When he pulls away to survey his handiwork, his eyes are dark. Fathomless.

"I never thought I'd get the chance to kiss you like this," he says, wicking his thumb over the pillow of your bottom lip. "You taste as good as I imagined."

Dragging your nails across his scalp, you plead, “No more teasing - I can't take it.”

"Well," he grunts, fingers twisting up in your dress, “If that’s how you feel, then you better put those hips to good use and work for it, sweetheart."

part 2 dropping soon

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard smut #cooper howard #the ghoul #the ghoul smut

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userautumn · 1 month ago

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Please. Tommys helicopter crashing while him and Buck are still broken up? That would be such great drama.

You know what I want? I want Buck to get mad. He has yet to actually get mad at a love interest. He's been hurt and confused, but I want him to get angry. I want him to go out and fuck like he's getting revenge on Tommy, even though he's the one who got left behind again, and I want him to convince himself he's absolutely fine. Eddie can see it, of course. Bobby and Maddie and all the people who love him can see that he's not fine, but I want Buck to pretend he is like he'll die if he doesn't. He deletes Tommy's name from his contacts and dumps all his stuff in the trash and erases his existence from his life like he's nothing more than yesterday's news.

I want this to continue through the rest of the season, long enough that both the characters and the audience start to think that maybe Buck is fine after all. Maybe this whole thing with Tommy was just a mistake, a hiccup. Maybe Tommy was right and saw writing on the wall that Buck didn't. Maybe he was smart by getting out when he did because Buck doesn't cry. He doesn't vent to Eddie, or show up on his doorstep like a kicked puppy. He lives fast and vibrant, and shows up to work covered in hickeys and lipstick and other people's cologne, and if Tommy really was as transformative of a love as he believed he was, shouldn't he be devastated?

Anyway.

Fast forward to the season finale. Athena has been following a case of corporate corruption where an auto and aeronautics manufacturer has been exposed for using faulty parts in their vehicles that have resulted in auto collisions and deaths across the country. None of this really concerns or interests Buck at all, if he's being honest. He fixes his own car for the most part (Tommy showed him how) and that which he can't do, he takes to his usual mom-and-pop mechanic for them to work on. Which is to say that, his life consists of sex and work, so news reports of [Same Company] being responsible for a Cessna crashing in Northern California don't really filter through.

Not until the 118 is called to a helicopter crash just outside of Los Angeles.

Even then, Buck doesn't think about Tommy. Why would he? Tommy Kinard is barely even a memory at this point, just an idea on the edge of his brain, an almost that was quickly buried. Helicopters crash all the time, so he has no reason to believe there's anything out of the ordinary about this one. But then when they're en route, Maddie's voice comes over the radio, tight with emotion and forcibly professional in a way that makes him immediately nauseous: Captain Nash, please be advised that the helicopter in question is one of our own. It's an LAFD chopper. Then, Hen and Eddie and Chimney and Bobby all turn to look at him, and Buck has nowhere to run from their gaze. Even if he did, he couldn't, because he feels paralyzed. Bobby's voice asking if there are any survivors, and Maddie's voice saying she's unsure get lost to the thrum of his heartbeat in his ears. Every repressed emotion, every memory, every bit of desperate longing and grief and love and anger comes rushing back in full force and all Buck can do is sit there while the engine weaves through Los Angeles traffic.

Tommy is fine, of course. He codes on the way to the hospital (Buck performing CPR on his boyfriend while begging him to stay alive is my drug), but once all is said and done, once he's come out of surgery with a little more metal in his body than he went in there with, he's okay. Buck isn't, not by a mile. He's full of too many emotions that he doesn't know how to sort through, chief among them being love, followed closely by anger, and then, guilt, of all things. But after Tommy opens his eyes, after Buck breaks down spectacularly, and after they finally confess that they love each other, Buck makes Tommy look him in the eyes:

"You don't get to run from this. Not again. I mean it. If you get scared, you talk to me. If you need to slow down, you talk to me. You don't make decisions for me, for us, and expect me to be okay with it. That's not how this works."

"Okay."

"I mean it, Tommy. I can't -"

"I mean it too. I promise. Okay?"

"Okay."

Anyways. Yeah. That's how I would do it.

#jack answers mail #WE COULD HAVE HAD IT AAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLL #tv: 911 #otp: eye of the storm

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fioredeciliego · 3 days ago

Text

Softly, Sweetly - Winter x Fem!Reader

12.5k words

The morning air in the office was crisp with the scent of fresh coffee and lingering hints of printer toner. Minjeong adjusted her blazer, her sharp eyes scanning the rows of desks as she walked through the bustling corporate floor. It was her first week as the new manager—a title she’d worked tirelessly to earn. Being an alpha in a field where appearances were everything, she’d perfected the art of self-control. Her instincts had no place here.

“Good morning, Manager Kim,” a cheerful voice greeted her. Minjeong nodded with a polite smile, not breaking stride. She kept her expression neutral, her shoulders squared. No one needed to know how tightly wound she felt beneath the surface.

The breakroom door was ajar, and as Minjeong pushed it open, something in the air shifted. Her breath hitched. A scent, warm and delicate, wrapped around her like a comforting embrace. It wasn’t overpowering, but it was unmistakable: vanilla, butter, and the faintest hint of lavender. Her instincts stirred before she could stop them, her wolf perking up like it had just found something—someone—important.

Minjeong froze mid-step, her eyes scanning the room. A tray of cookies sat on the counter, golden and fresh, a few crumbs scattered around it. She frowned slightly, glancing at the lone figure sitting at the small table in the corner.

You.

Your head was bent over a book, a steaming cup of tea beside you. You looked so at ease, oblivious to the chaos of the office just outside the door. The moment felt oddly intimate, as though Minjeong had stepped into a scene she wasn’t meant to disturb. Her wolf growled softly in approval, a low hum of recognition.

She shook her head, forcing herself to move. Minjeong was here to grab a coffee, not to—…whatever this was.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice even. You looked up, startled, your eyes meeting hers. For a moment, Minjeong forgot how to breathe.

“Oh, good morning,” you replied, offering a shy smile. “You must be the new manager. Minjeong, right?”

Hearing her name in your voice made something in her chest tighten. She gave a curt nod. “That’s right. And you are?”

“Y/N,” you said, setting your book down. “I work in marketing. I, um, bake cookies for the team on Fridays. I hope that’s okay?”

Minjeong blinked. You thought she might disapprove? She glanced at the tray again, her fingers twitching with the urge to grab one. “It’s… nice. I’m sure the team appreciates it.”

Your smile widened slightly, and Minjeong felt her heartbeat quicken. She hated how her composure wavered under your gaze, like you could see right through the layers she’d carefully built around herself.

“Would you like one?” you offered, gesturing to the cookies.

Minjeong hesitated. Something about the idea of taking one felt too personal, but the way your eyes sparkled with anticipation made it impossible to refuse.

“Sure,” she said, stepping closer. She picked one up, the warm cookie soft against her fingertips. She bit into it, and the taste was as comforting as the scent that lingered in the room.

“It’s good,” she said after a moment, keeping her tone neutral.

“Thank you,” you said softly. There was a flicker of something in your expression, something almost… hopeful. Minjeong quickly looked away, busying herself with pouring a cup of coffee.

“Do you bake often?” she asked, more to fill the silence than out of genuine curiosity.

“Pretty often,” you said, shrugging lightly. “It’s kind of my way of relaxing. Helps me feel grounded, you know?”

Minjeong wouldn’t know. Relaxation wasn’t something she indulged in. But she nodded anyway, sipping her coffee. The warmth didn’t quite reach the tightness in her chest.

She lingered longer than she intended, watching as you returned to your book, completely at ease. The contrast between your serenity and her constant self-discipline was almost jarring. But it was the scent that stayed with her long after she left the breakroom, weaving itself into her thoughts and refusing to let go.

By the end of the day, Minjeong was mentally exhausted. Meetings, presentations, and the constant effort to keep her instincts in check had drained her more than usual. As she gathered her things, her thoughts drifted back to you. To the way your scent had wrapped around her like a protective cocoon.

It wasn’t just pleasant. It was calming in a way that nothing else had been in years. She hated how much she craved it already, how the memory of it lingered on the edge of her consciousness. It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t professional.

“Manager Kim?” a voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned to see one of her coworkers standing hesitantly by her desk.

“Yes?” she asked, straightening up.

“Just wanted to say thanks for joining us today. I know it’s been a busy week for you,” they said.

Minjeong gave a polite smile. “Thank you. Have a good evening.”

As the office emptied out, she found herself standing alone, staring at the breakroom door. The faintest hint of your scent still lingered, teasing her senses. She shook her head, forcing herself to leave.

At home, Minjeong dropped her bag by the door and sank onto the couch. She stared at the ceiling, her mind racing. She’d worked so hard to suppress her instincts, to present herself as an alpha who could be trusted in any situation. But you… you had cracked something open in her with just a smile and a tray of cookies.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was a text from her assistant, reminding her about a team lunch next week.

She sighed, tossing her phone onto the coffee table. As much as she wanted to deny it, she knew one thing for certain: this wasn’t the last time you’d be on her mind.

Minjeong prided herself on her ability to remain composed in any situation. Meetings, deadlines, and even high-stakes negotiations barely fazed her. But now, as she sat in a mid-morning conference room, facing a dozen employees, her calm exterior was slipping.

She stole a glance toward you, seated across the table. You were scribbling notes in your planner, a small smile tugging at your lips. That scent—a warm mix of vanilla and sugar—was still faint in the air, and Minjeong was losing her grip on rational thought. It wasn’t overpowering, but it lingered in the corners of her mind, making her restless in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

“Minjeong, what do you think?” someone asked, snapping her back to the present.

She blinked, realizing that everyone was staring at her, waiting for a response. “I, uh… Yes. Of course.” She cleared her throat and straightened in her seat. “Could you repeat the question?”

There was a murmur of suppressed laughter around the table. Minjeong’s second-in-command smirked but repeated the inquiry about projected timelines. She nodded briskly, giving an efficient, if generic, response that seemed to satisfy the room. When the meeting resumed, she glanced at you again. You were grinning now, but it was subtle, almost hidden behind the tilt of your notebook. Did you know you were driving her to distraction?

By the time the meeting wrapped up, Minjeong was on edge. Everyone filed out, but she lingered, pretending to tidy her papers. Her heart sank when she realized you were still at the table, reorganizing your planner. Alone with you, she felt the tension in her chest tighten.

She couldn’t just sit in silence. Say something—anything, she told herself.

“The cookies,” she blurted out, louder than intended.

You looked up, startled. “Pardon?”

“Your cookies. I mean, the ones you bring every Friday,” Minjeong stammered, feeling her cheeks heat. “They’re really… nice.”

You blinked, and then—to her simultaneous relief and mortification—you burst into laughter. It wasn’t mocking, though; it was light and genuinely amused. “Nice?”

“What I meant,” Minjeong said, quickly backpedaling, “is that they’re good. Great, actually. Really great. Everyone likes them.”

You tilted your head, your laughter fading into a warm smile. “Thank you, Minjeong. I’m glad you like them.”

“I…” she hesitated, unsure of how to salvage the moment, “I’m not just saying that because of the… cookies.”

Now it was your turn to look confused. “You’re not?”

“I mean, I am saying it because of the cookies, but also because you…” She trailed off, realizing she had no idea where she was going with this. Her internal monologue was screaming for her to stop talking.

“Because I what?” you prompted, resting your chin on your hand, clearly enjoying her awkwardness.

“Because you… seem to put so much care into them,” she finished lamely.

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. Instead, you closed your planner and stood, your warm scent enveloping her as you passed by. “Thank you, Minjeong. That means a lot.”

She watched you leave, feeling both relieved and utterly defeated. Great job, Minjeong, she thought bitterly. You’ve officially forgotten how to talk like a normal person.

The rest of the day didn’t go any better. Minjeong found herself distracted during her afternoon meetings, her mind replaying your smile and the way you’d looked at her in the conference room. By the time her last meeting ended, she was ready to call it a day. She was gathering her things when she heard a soft knock on her office door.

“Come in,” she called, forcing herself to sound professional.

The door creaked open, and there you were again, holding a small container. Her heart rate spiked.

“Hey,” you said, stepping inside. “I had some extra cookies left over. Thought you might want some.”

Minjeong blinked at you, momentarily stunned. “Oh. Uh, thank you.” She stepped forward to take the container from your hands, careful not to let your fingers touch.

“Don’t worry,” you teased, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m not bribing you for a promotion or anything.”

She managed a chuckle, relaxing slightly. “Good to know. I’m not sure my integrity could survive that kind of scandal.”

You grinned and glanced at your watch. “Well, I should get going. Have a good evening, Minjeong.”

“You too,” she replied automatically, watching as you disappeared down the hall.

When she opened the container, the scent hit her like a tidal wave—comforting and intoxicating all at once. The cookies were still warm, their edges golden and crisp. She picked one up, taking a bite. Perfect, of course.

Later that night, Minjeong sat in her apartment, the empty container resting on her coffee table. She’d polished off the cookies in record time and now found herself staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment she’d spent with you that day.

“You’re losing it,” she muttered to herself, rubbing her temples. But despite her frustration, she couldn’t help but smile. Maybe she’d been awkward today, but it didn’t seem to matter. For the first time in years, she felt something other than restraint.

Minjeong dropped her bag on the floor and shrugged off her blazer, letting out a heavy sigh. The day had been relentless—back-to-back meetings, demanding deadlines, and an inbox that seemed to multiply the moment she glanced away. Her head throbbed, and her shoulders ached from the tension she’d been carrying all day.

She moved toward the couch, loosening her tie and unbuttoning the top of her blouse. As she sat down, something soft and familiar brushed against her fingers. Her scarf. She frowned slightly, picking it up from where it had been draped over her bag. She hadn’t even realized she’d brought it home; she usually left it in her office during warmer months.

Bringing it closer, she froze. That scent. Subtle yet unmistakable—a warm blend of vanilla and sugar. It wasn’t just the fabric softener or any lingering fragrance from her office. No, this was your scent, the one that always lingered faintly when you walked by her or leaned just a little too close while passing her papers in a meeting.

Minjeong’s grip on the scarf tightened as she inhaled again, slower this time. The tension in her body seemed to ease, her mind quieting in a way it hadn’t all day. The calming effect was almost immediate, as if the stress that had piled up over the hours was being gently swept away.

She leaned back against the cushions, holding the scarf against her chest. It wasn’t intentional at first, just a subconscious reaction to the comfort it provided. Her thoughts drifted to you—the way your laughter lit up the office, the delicate smile you gave her whenever she passed by your desk. And, of course, the cookies. Those damn cookies.

The realization hit her like a jolt: she was craving this. Craving you. Not just your scent, but the sense of peace you brought with it. It wasn’t something she’d consciously acknowledged before, but now that she’d felt it, there was no denying it. You had somehow become her haven in the chaos of her daily life.

She closed her eyes, letting herself bask in the quiet moment. Her alpha instincts stirred faintly, a protective warmth blooming in her chest at the thought of you. It wasn’t overwhelming, not the way she’d been taught to fear growing up. Instead, it was grounding, like a steady pulse reminding her of something she hadn’t realized she was missing.

Minutes turned into an hour as she stayed there, holding the scarf. Her apartment, usually too quiet after a long day, felt less lonely now. But with that comfort came another emotion: guilt. She shouldn’t be clinging to this scarf like some lovesick teenager. You deserved better than to be the object of someone’s selfish yearning, especially when she hadn’t even mustered the courage to tell you how she felt.

Minjeong’s eyes fluttered open, and she set the scarf down gently on the couch beside her. She needed to get a grip. This wasn’t fair to you or to herself. Still, as she stood and moved to the kitchen to prepare a late dinner, she couldn’t help but glance back at the scarf.

That night, as she lay in bed, the memory of your scent lingered. Minjeong’s mind wandered to what it might be like to have you close, not just in the abstract sense but here, in her space. She imagined you sitting on her couch, sharing a laugh about something trivial. She imagined brushing flour off your cheek after a baking session, your laughter soft and sweet as she teased you for being messy. The thought brought a warmth to her chest that she hadn’t felt in years.

Her hand drifted to her phone on the nightstand. For a brief moment, she considered messaging you. Something casual, something that wouldn’t betray the flurry of emotions she was feeling. But what would she even say? “Hey, your cookies are great, and your scent calms my overworked alpha instincts”? Yeah, no. That wasn’t happening.

Instead, she sighed and placed the phone back down. Tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow she’d find the courage to say something—anything—to let you know how much you meant to her. For now, she closed her eyes and let the memory of your scent lull her to sleep.

The next morning, as Minjeong got ready for work, she hesitated before leaving her apartment. Her eyes fell on the scarf, still draped over the couch where she’d left it. She debated bringing it back with her, but something held her back. It felt too personal now, too intimate to casually return to the office.

With a small sigh, she grabbed her bag and headed out the door. The scent might not have been with her anymore, but the sense of calm it had given her lingered, a quiet reminder of the comfort she’d found—and the feelings she couldn’t ignore any longer.

The office was unusually quiet that evening, the hum of fluorescent lights the only sound accompanying Minjeong as she reviewed a spreadsheet in her dimly lit office. Most employees had left hours ago, leaving the building in an almost eerie state of calm. She liked it this way—no distractions, no small talk, just the numbers and her thoughts.

But as she stepped out of her office to grab a file from the printer, she caught sight of a light still on in the breakroom. Her brow furrowed. The breakroom was supposed to be locked after hours. Curiosity got the better of her, and she made her way over, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor.

Pushing the door open, Minjeong froze. There you were, sitting cross-legged at one of the round tables with a laptop open in front of you. Your brow was furrowed in concentration, a pen twirling absently between your fingers. Beside you sat a small plate of cookies—of course—and an empty mug with faint coffee stains.

“Y/N?” Minjeong’s voice came out softer than she intended, but it still startled you. You looked up, eyes wide for a moment before a smile spread across your face.

“Oh, hi, Minjeong. Didn’t expect anyone else to be here this late.”

She stepped inside, her curiosity piqued. “I could say the same about you. What are you working on?”

You gestured to your laptop. “The quarterly report for the marketing department. I wanted to get a head start since things are going to get hectic next week.”

Minjeong nodded, impressed but not surprised. You’d always struck her as someone who went the extra mile, though she couldn’t help but notice the faint circles under your eyes. “You could’ve done this tomorrow. Staying late isn’t mandatory, you know.”

You shrugged, your smile turning sheepish. “I know. But I work better when it’s quiet. Plus, it’s… nice to have some time to myself.”

There was a weight to your words that Minjeong couldn’t quite place, but she decided not to push. Instead, she glanced at the plate of cookies. “Did you make those here?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, I brought them from home. Baking’s kind of my thing. Want one?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Sure.”

You slid the plate toward her, and she picked up one of the cookies. It was warm and soft, melting on her tongue with a burst of buttery sweetness. She couldn’t suppress the small sound of approval that escaped her.

You grinned. “Good?”

“Better than good,” Minjeong admitted, setting the half-eaten cookie down. “I think these are your best yet.”

“High praise from the boss,” you teased, leaning back in your chair. “But yeah, baking helps me unwind. Keeps my hands busy and my mind clear.”

Minjeong leaned against the counter, intrigued. “So it’s more than just a hobby?”

You nodded, your expression turning thoughtful. “Yeah. Living in the city can be overwhelming sometimes, especially for an omega. Baking’s like… my way of staying grounded. The scents, the textures, the routine of it—it’s comforting. Familiar.”

Her heart softened at your candidness. She’d never really thought about how challenging it might be for you, navigating a high-stakes corporate environment while balancing your instincts. “That makes sense. It’s important to have something like that. A safe space.”

“What about you?” you asked suddenly, tilting your head. “What keeps you grounded?”

Minjeong blinked, caught off guard. No one had ever asked her that before. She crossed her arms, considering the question. “Honestly? I… don’t know. I’ve always just focused on work. It’s what I’m good at.”

You frowned slightly. “That sounds… exhausting.”

She shrugged, trying to play it off. “It has its moments. But it’s not so bad. I’ve gotten used to it.”

Your frown deepened, but you didn’t press the issue. Instead, you reached for another cookie, breaking it in half and offering her a piece. “Well, maybe you need to find something that makes you happy outside of work. Everyone needs a little sweetness in their life, right?”

Minjeong took the offered cookie, her lips twitching into a small smile. “Maybe you’re right.”

For a while, the two of you sat in companionable silence, the tension of the day melting away. Minjeong found herself relaxing in your presence, the usual weight of her responsibilities feeling just a little lighter. She didn’t even realize how much time had passed until you stretched and yawned, glancing at the clock.

“Wow, it’s already past ten,” you said, rubbing your eyes. “I should probably head home.”

Minjeong stood, her protective instincts kicking in. “Let me walk you to your car. It’s late.”

You looked surprised but didn’t argue. “Alright. Thanks, Minjeong.”

As the two of you made your way to the parking lot, the cool night air hit your faces, refreshing after the stuffiness of the office. Minjeong stayed close, her sharp senses on alert for any potential danger. When you reached your car, you turned to her with a grateful smile.

“Thanks for keeping me company tonight. It was… nice to talk.”

“It was,” Minjeong agreed, her voice soft. “Drive safe, Y/N.”

You gave her a small wave before getting into your car and driving off, leaving her standing there under the dim glow of the parking lot lights. As she watched your taillights disappear into the distance, she felt a strange warmth in her chest—a flicker of something she couldn’t quite name.

Maybe, she thought as she made her way back inside, it was time she found her own version of sweetness. And maybe, just maybe, it was closer than she’d realized.

The hum of the office carried on as usual, phones ringing intermittently, keyboards clacking away, and the soft murmur of conversations filling the air. Minjeong sat at her desk, head bent over a report she had been reviewing for the past half hour. Her concentration was only half-hearted, though. Every so often, her eyes drifted toward the far side of the room where you sat, completely engrossed in your work.

It wasn’t unusual for Minjeong to find herself distracted by you these days. Your presence had a way of grounding her yet simultaneously throwing her off balance. It wasn’t just your calming scent—though that was a major factor—it was the way you carried yourself, your quiet confidence, and the little smiles you shared with everyone. She knew she needed to get a grip, but you made it incredibly difficult.

“Minjeong…” a voice interrupted her thoughts. She looked up to find her second-in-command, Jihoon, standing by her desk with a knowing smirk. “Staring at Y/N again?” he teased, just loud enough for a few nearby coworkers to hear.

Minjeong’s eyes widened, and she immediately straightened in her chair. “I was not staring,” she replied defensively, her tone sharp enough to make Jihoon chuckle.

“Sure, boss. Whatever you say.” He leaned on the edge of her desk, clearly enjoying her discomfort. “But you know, if you keep looking at her like that, people are going to start talking.”

“They’re not already?” another coworker, Soojin, piped up from a nearby cubicle. She swiveled her chair to face them, her grin mischievous. “Minjeong practically turns red every time Y/N’s around.”

Minjeong’s ears burned as she glared at Soojin. “I do not. And for the record, can we focus on work instead of pointless gossip?”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “It’s not gossip if it’s true.”

Minjeong groaned, running a hand through her hair. “This is completely unprofessional.”

“Oh, come on,” Soojin said, rolling her eyes. “We’re just teasing you, Minjeong. Lighten up. Besides, Y/N’s sweet. If I were you, I wouldn’t deny it so hard.”

“There’s nothing to deny,” Minjeong insisted, but her words lacked conviction. Her traitorous cheeks were already giving her away, flushing a faint pink that made Jihoon and Soojin exchange amused glances.

From across the room, you glanced up, sensing the commotion. Your gaze landed on Minjeong, and for a split second, your eyes met. The moment stretched longer than it should have, and Minjeong felt her pulse quicken. You smiled softly, tilting your head in curiosity at the group gathered near her desk. Then, you went back to your work, leaving Minjeong to deal with the aftermath of her coworkers’ relentless teasing.

“See?” Soojin said triumphantly. “She’s got you flustered already.”

“I’m not flustered,” Minjeong hissed, though the way she avoided their eyes told a different story.

“Alright, alright,” Jihoon said, holding up his hands in surrender. “We’ll drop it… for now.”

Minjeong shot him a glare before turning back to her report, determined to ignore the growing heat in her cheeks. But even as she tried to focus, she couldn’t shake the memory of your smile or the way her heart had stuttered when your eyes met.

By lunchtime, the teasing hadn’t entirely subsided. Minjeong was walking to the break room when she overheard a pair of interns whispering near the coffee machine.

“Do you think Minjeong likes Y/N?” one of them asked, not bothering to lower their voice much.

“Oh, definitely,” the other replied. “She’s always looking at her during meetings. It’s so obvious.”

Minjeong cleared her throat loudly, and the interns jumped, spinning around to face her with wide eyes.

“Ladies,” she said coolly, “I suggest you find something productive to do.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they chorused before scurrying out of the break room.

Minjeong sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. This was getting out of hand. She grabbed a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter, taking a moment to collect herself. The break room door swung open, and she tensed, expecting another nosy coworker. Instead, it was you.

“Hey, Minjeong,” you greeted, your smile as warm as ever. “Taking a breather?”

She nodded stiffly. “Something like that.”

You moved to the coffee machine, humming softly as you prepared your drink. Minjeong watched out of the corner of her eye, silently berating herself for not saying something. Anything.

“So,” you said casually, breaking the silence. “What’s everyone talking about today? I feel like I missed something.”

Minjeong’s heart skipped a beat. “Nothing important,” she said quickly, perhaps too quickly.

You glanced at her, amused. “Are you sure? You’ve been looking a little… distracted.”

“I’m not distracted,” she insisted, though the defensive edge in her voice probably undermined her claim.

You chuckled softly, stirring your coffee. “If you say so.”

She opened her mouth to respond but closed it again, realizing she’d only dig herself deeper. Instead, she focused on sipping her own coffee, hoping the heat from the drink would explain the flush in her cheeks.

“Well,” you said, turning to leave, “if you ever want to talk about whatever’s distracting you, I’m a pretty good listener.”

Minjeong nodded mutely, watching as you walked away, your scent lingering in the air long after you’d gone. She set her coffee down and leaned against the counter, letting out a long, exasperated sigh.

Maybe… just maybe… her coworkers had a point.

The office buzzed with its usual energy as the day wound down, employees shuffling papers and exchanging pleasantries on their way out. Minjeong leaned against the doorway of her office, watching the scene unfold. Her sharp gaze scanned the room until it landed on you. You were at your desk, head tilted as you listened politely to one of the marketing associates—a man who was leaning in a little too close for comfort.

Minjeong frowned, her instincts prickling at the sight. She told herself to stay calm, that there was no reason to interfere, but the feeling gnawed at her as the moments dragged on.

“You’re always so cheerful,” the man’s voice carried across the open floor. “How do you manage it? Must be all those cookies you bake for us.”

You chuckled politely but shifted back in your chair, creating a subtle distance. “I just enjoy baking. It’s a good way to unwind.”

“Well, maybe you can bake something just for me sometime,” he pressed, his tone too familiar. The insinuation in his voice made Minjeong’s jaw tighten.

She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the simmering protectiveness rising in her chest. It wasn’t her place to intervene. You were capable of handling yourself, and she didn’t want to overstep. But when he moved even closer, leaning over your desk with a hand braced on the edge, her restraint snapped.

“Come on,” he said, his voice dropping slightly. “It’s not like it’s a big deal.”

You hesitated, your polite smile faltering. “I… really don’t think—”

“Y/N, can I borrow you for a moment?” Minjeong’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. Her steps were deliberate, her posture calm but radiating authority as she approached.

Your head whipped toward her, relief flashing across your face. “Of course.”

The man straightened, clearly annoyed. “Oh, we were just chatting. No rush.”

“Actually, it’s time-sensitive,” Minjeong said, her tone polite but firm. Her eyes locked onto his, unwavering. “If you’ll excuse us.”

Her presence left no room for argument. The man hesitated, his jaw tightening, but he eventually stepped back. You gathered your things quickly, and Minjeong’s hand lightly brushed your elbow as she guided you toward her office. Once the door clicked shut behind you, you let out a shaky breath.

“Thank you,” you said, turning to face her. “I… didn’t know how to get out of that conversation.”

Minjeong leaned against her desk, crossing her arms. “He’s always like that?”

“Not always,” you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck. “But he can be… persistent. I try to brush it off.”

Her eyes narrowed, and the protective instinct she’d been holding back flared again. “You shouldn’t have to. If he ever makes you uncomfortable, let me know.”

You raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Are you… protecting me, Manager Kim?”

Minjeong stiffened, realizing how her words might have sounded. She cleared her throat, straightening her posture. “I’m just ensuring a safe and professional work environment,” she replied, though the faint pink tinge on her ears betrayed her.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at her attempt to maintain professionalism. “Well, thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Good,” Minjeong said, trying to recover her composure. She glanced at the clock on her desk. “It’s late. You should head home.”

You hesitated. “Are you staying late?”

“Just finishing some reports,” she said, brushing off the question.

You tilted your head, studying her for a moment. “Don’t overwork yourself. Even managers need rest.”

Her lips quirked into a small smile. “Noted.”

Satisfied, you gave her a cheerful wave and headed out, leaving her alone in the quiet office. Minjeong sighed, running a hand through her hair. The lingering trace of your scent in the room calmed her, even as her thoughts raced.

The next day, whispers rippled through the office. Minjeong’s intervention hadn’t gone unnoticed, and it didn’t take long for the gossip to reach your ears.

“Did you see how Manager Kim handled that guy yesterday?” one coworker said, leaning over the partition of a cubicle.

“She’s so cool,” another agreed. “Didn’t even raise her voice, but he backed off so fast.”

You tried to focus on your work, but the murmurs made you smile. Minjeong’s actions had been subtle yet effective—a balance of authority and care that you couldn’t help but admire.

Later that afternoon, you found yourself standing outside her office with a small box of cookies in hand. You knocked lightly on the doorframe, peeking inside. Minjeong looked up from her desk, her expression softening when she saw you.

“Hi,” you said, stepping inside. “I wanted to say thank you again for yesterday.”

“No need to thank me,” she replied, setting down her pen. “I just did what anyone would do.”

“Not everyone would have stepped in so gracefully,” you said, placing the box on her desk. “I made these for you. As a thank you.”

Her eyes widened slightly as she opened the box, the familiar scent of your baking filling the room. “You didn’t have to do this,” she said, though the small smile on her lips betrayed her gratitude.

“Consider it a token of appreciation,” you said, your tone teasing.

Minjeong chuckled, picking up a cookie and taking a bite. As the sweet flavor melted on her tongue, she looked up at you, her gaze warm. “You know, these might be your best batch yet.”

You grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

As you turned to leave, she found herself wondering how long she could keep her feelings in check—and if she even wanted to.

When the door closed behind you, she leaned back in her chair, the taste of your cookies and the sound of your laughter staying with her long after you were gone.

The soft hum of music filled your cozy kitchen as the late afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting a golden glow over the countertop. Minjeong stood at the edge of the counter, eyeing the array of baking ingredients with a look that could only be described as apprehensive.

“So, this is where the magic happens,” Minjeong said, her hands resting awkwardly on her hips. Her confidence, so steady in the corporate world, seemed to falter in the face of flour and sugar.

“Magic might be a stretch,” you teased, tying an apron around your waist. “But baking is supposed to be fun. Relaxing, even. So don’t overthink it.”

“Relaxing,” Minjeong repeated, as though testing the word on her tongue. She picked up a measuring cup and examined it like it was a foreign object. “Right. Relaxing.”

The idea for the lesson had come up earlier that week. Minjeong had been unusually tense during a meeting, her alpha instincts likely strained by the pressures of the job. Hoping to lighten the mood, you’d casually mentioned your baking hobby.

“If you ever want to relax, you should join me sometime,” you’d said. “Baking cookies works wonders.”

She’d looked at you, her expression skeptical but intrigued. “You think I’d be good at baking?”

“Not at first,” you admitted with a grin, “but it’s about the journey, not perfection. Besides, it’s fun to try something new.”

To your surprise, she’d taken you up on the offer, showing up at your apartment that evening with an apron she’d clearly borrowed from someone else. It was light pink with frilly edges, entirely at odds with her usual serious demeanor.

“You’re really committed to this, huh?” you teased when you saw her at the door.

“Don’t make me regret this,” she’d muttered, her cheeks tinged with color as she stepped inside.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re going to be fine. Just follow my lead.”

Minjeong exhaled, rolling up her sleeves with dramatic determination. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

“First step,” you began, pointing to the flour, “measure out two cups of flour and sift it into the bowl.”

She nodded seriously, grabbing the bag of flour. With one strong motion, she tipped it over the measuring cup. A white cloud puffed up instantly, coating her hands and the counter in a fine layer of flour. Minjeong froze, her eyes wide.

“Well, that’s one way to do it,” you said, biting back a laugh as you grabbed a dishcloth to clean up the excess.

“Why does it get everywhere?” she muttered, glaring at the flour as though it had personally wronged her.

“It’s part of the process,” you said, smiling. “Baking is messy, but that’s what makes it fun.”

Minjeong didn’t look convinced, but she carefully measured out the flour again, this time with exaggerated precision. You handed her the sifter, and she hesitated before shaking it over the bowl. When a fine, snowy stream of flour fell neatly into place, she brightened visibly.

“See? You’re a natural,” you said encouragingly.

She gave you a skeptical look but allowed a small smile to tug at her lips. “What’s next?”

“Next, we add the baking powder and salt.” You gestured to the small bowls of pre-measured ingredients. “Just toss them in.”

This part went smoothly, and Minjeong seemed to regain a bit of confidence. That is, until you handed her the mixing spoon.

“Okay, now we cream the butter and sugar together,” you instructed. “It’s all about getting the texture just right.”

Minjeong eyed the bowl of softened butter suspiciously. “This doesn’t look right to me already.”

“It’ll look better when you mix it,” you assured her.

She dipped the spoon into the bowl and began stirring with what could only be described as excessive enthusiasm. Butter and sugar flew out of the bowl, splattering onto the counter and her shirt. You couldn’t hold back your laughter any longer.

“Minjeong, stop! You’re going to redecorate my kitchen at this rate,” you said, clutching your stomach.

She paused, her face a mixture of embarrassment and determination. “I thought you said baking was relaxing!”

“It is,” you said, wiping a tear from your eye. “For people who aren’t trying to stir like they’re fighting for their lives.”

Minjeong groaned but started laughing along with you. “I’m hopeless, aren’t I?”

“Not hopeless,” you said, moving closer to take the spoon from her. “Just… enthusiastic. Here, let me show you.”

Your hands brushed against hers as you guided the spoon, and Minjeong’s breath hitched slightly. The moment lingered just a second too long before she cleared her throat and stepped back, letting you take over. Her ears were tinted pink, but she tried to focus on your demonstration.

“See? Gentle but consistent,” you said, glancing at her with a smile. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

Minjeong watched you work, her gaze softening. There was something about the way you moved—so at ease in this environment—that made her chest tighten. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so freely, or felt this at peace.

“Your turn,” you said, handing the spoon back to her.

This time, Minjeong took her time, carefully folding the ingredients together. The butter and sugar began to blend into a creamy mixture, and she shot you a triumphant look.

“I did it!” she said, grinning.

“See? I told you you’d be fine,” you said, nudging her playfully.

The rest of the process went more smoothly, though there were still a few hiccups—like when Minjeong accidentally cracked an egg too hard and had to fish out the shell, or when she forgot to set the timer for the cookies and nearly burned the first batch. But each mistake was met with laughter, and by the end of the evening, the kitchen smelled like warm vanilla and chocolate.

As the two of you sat at the table, sharing the fruits of your labor, you noticed how Minjeong’s shoulders seemed more relaxed, her usual corporate stiffness replaced by a quiet contentment.

“You know,” she said, breaking the comfortable silence, “I don’t think I’ve laughed this much in years.”

“That’s the power of baking,” you said with a smile. “And maybe the company helped a little, too.”

Minjeong’s gaze met yours, and for a moment, the world outside your small kitchen seemed to fade away. She reached for another cookie, but her hand brushed yours instead, making both of you freeze.

“Sorry,” she murmured, pulling back quickly.

“It’s okay,” you said softly, your cheeks warm. The air between you felt charged, but neither of you dared to break the spell.

Eventually, Minjeong cleared her throat and stood, gathering the plates. “I should probably get going. It’s getting late.”

“Yeah,” you said, standing as well. “Thanks for… you know, being a good sport about all this.”

She chuckled, brushing flour off her shirt. “Thanks for not giving up on me after the… butter incident.”

As she walked to the door, she hesitated, turning back to look at you. “I… I had a really good time tonight. Thank you.”

“Me too,” you said, your smile genuine. “Maybe next time we’ll try something easier. Like cupcakes.”

Minjeong laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “I’ll hold you to that.”

You sighed as you stood at the office entrance, peering out at the relentless downpour. Of course, today of all days, your car was in the shop for maintenance.

“Looks like you’re stuck,” a familiar voice said behind you. Turning, you saw Minjeong, dressed impeccably in her usual business attire, holding a large black umbrella in one hand and her bag in the other. Her sharp eyes softened as they landed on your slightly disheveled figure.

“Yeah,” you said, laughing awkwardly. “Guess I didn’t plan for this.”

Minjeong tilted her head, her lips curving into a small smile. “Your car’s still at the shop, right?”

You nodded, surprised she remembered. “Yeah, it’s been a pain this week.”

“Come on,” she said, already reaching into her bag for her keys. “I’ll drive you home. No sense in getting drenched.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, no, you don’t have to—”

“I insist,” she interrupted gently. “It’s not out of my way. Besides, you’ll owe me one.”

You hesitated, glancing back out at the rain. It was falling harder now, and you really didn’t want to ruin your clothes—or catch a cold. With a sigh of resignation, you nodded. “Okay. Thank you, Minjeong.”

She smiled, leading you to her sleek black car parked nearby. The rain intensified as you reached it, and she quickly opened the passenger door for you before darting around to the driver’s side. Once inside, the warmth of the car was a welcome contrast to the chilly storm outside.

Minjeong started the engine, the soft purr filling the enclosed space as she adjusted the heater. “Comfortable?” she asked, glancing at you.

“Yeah, thanks,” you said, buckling your seatbelt. “This is really nice of you.”

She shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. “Consider it part of my duties as your manager.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I didn’t realize driving employees home was in your job description.”

“Only for special cases,” she teased, pulling out onto the rain-slicked streets.

The streets were quieter than usual, most people having already sought shelter from the rain. The rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers and the soft hum of the car’s engine filled the silence between you. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though; there was something peaceful about sitting beside Minjeong, the world outside muted by the storm.

“It’s rare to see rain like this in the city,” you commented after a while, your voice breaking the stillness.

Minjeong glanced at you, her eyes warm. “It is. But I don’t mind it. There’s something calming about it, don’t you think?”

You smiled. “I guess so. As long as I’m not caught in it without a ride.”

She chuckled softly, her laughter low and melodic. “Fair enough.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence again, the rain forming a soothing backdrop. Then Minjeong’s voice broke through, quieter this time. “You know, it’s… nice. Spending time like this.”

You glanced at her, surprised by the vulnerability in her tone. “Yeah, it is,” you agreed softly. “I guess we’ve both been so busy that it’s hard to just… slow down.”

She nodded, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. “That’s the city for you. Everyone’s always moving, always rushing to the next thing. Sometimes I feel like I’m running just to keep up.”

Her words struck a chord, and you found yourself nodding. “I know what you mean. It’s easy to get lost in the chaos.”

Minjeong’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, her knuckles paling. “It’s harder when you’re… different.”

You turned to look at her, noticing the tension in her jaw. “Different how?”

She hesitated for a moment before exhaling slowly, her breath visible in the cool air. “Being an alpha in a place like this… it’s not easy. There’s so much expectation, so much pressure to… control everything. To suppress instincts, to fit into this mold of what’s ‘acceptable.’”

Her confession caught you off guard. Minjeong always seemed so composed, so in control. Hearing her admit to struggling with her alpha nature made her feel more… human.

“I’ve always wondered about that,” you admitted. “How you manage to stay so calm and professional all the time.”

Minjeong gave a small, rueful laugh. “It’s a balancing act. Most people don’t realize how much energy it takes. How much I… how much I’ve had to suppress to keep that image.”

Your heart ached at her words. “That sounds exhausting.”

“It is,” she said quietly. “But it’s what’s expected. Alphas are supposed to be strong, reliable, in control. There’s no room for mistakes, no room to… just be.”

The vulnerability in her voice was striking, and you felt a sudden surge of protectiveness. “You know, Minjeong,” you said gently, “you don’t always have to be perfect. It’s okay to let yourself feel things. To let yourself… be human.”

She looked at you then, her eyes searching yours. The rain blurred the edges of the world outside, leaving only the two of you in focus. “It’s hard,” she admitted. “Especially when…” She trailed off, biting her lip as though debating whether to continue.

“When what?” you prompted gently.

Minjeong hesitated before speaking, her voice barely audible over the rain. “Especially when someone’s scent makes it harder to keep everything in check.”

Your breath caught, the meaning behind her words sinking in. “Minjeong…”

She looked away, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. “Sorry. That was… probably too much.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, it’s okay. I just didn’t realize…”

“That you affect me?” she finished for you, her voice steady despite the vulnerability in her eyes.

You nodded, your heart pounding. “Yeah.”

Minjeong smiled faintly, her expression softening. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. If anything, it’s… grounding. Comforting, even.”

Her words sent a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the heater. You didn’t know what to say, so you settled for a small smile. “I’m glad.”

The rest of the drive was quieter, but the silence between you felt different now—charged with unspoken emotions. By the time Minjeong pulled up to your apartment building, the rain had eased to a gentle drizzle, the sky still heavy with clouds.

“Thank you for the ride,” you said as you unbuckled your seatbelt, your voice softer than before.

Minjeong nodded, her gaze lingering on you. "Anytime," she said. "Really."

You hesitated for a moment, the warmth of the conversation still wrapping around you. Finally, you gave her a small smile. "Goodnight, Minjeong."

"Goodnight, Y/N," she replied, her voice carrying an unfamiliar softness.

As you stepped out of the car and into the drizzle, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something between you had shifted. Minjeong waited until you were safely inside before driving off, her car disappearing into the rain-soaked night. Inside your apartment, you leaned against the door, your heart still racing.

The office was bustling as usual, a midweek rush that had everyone scrambling to meet deadlines. You were no exception, rushing from one end of the office to the other, juggling an armful of documents and a coffee mug you had precariously balanced on top of the stack.

“Y/N, do you need a hand with that?” someone called, but you waved them off with a distracted smile.

“No, I’m good!” you replied, already halfway to your desk.

Minjeong, seated at her desk across the room, glanced up from her laptop at the sound of your voice. Her sharp eyes tracked your movements, a hint of amusement on her face as she watched you maneuver through the sea of desks like a busy bee.

She had been keeping an eye on you more often lately, though she wasn’t sure if it was her alpha instincts or something else entirely. Either way, she couldn’t help but smile softly when you finally made it to your desk, setting the pile down with a triumphant huff.

But just as you turned to head toward the breakroom, chaos unfolded in the blink of an eye.

One of the office assistants, rushing by with a loaded cart of supplies, misjudged the narrow space near the staircase. The cart clipped the corner of your desk, sending its contents tumbling. You instinctively stepped back to avoid the spill, but the assistant, flustered and off-balance, accidentally bumped into you.

The world seemed to tilt as you stumbled backward, the edge of the staircase suddenly far too close. Your heart leapt into your throat as your heel missed the step, and you felt yourself start to fall.

“Y/N!”

Before you could process what was happening, strong arms wrapped around you, yanking you back from the brink. The momentum sent both of you tumbling onto the floor, but Minjeong’s body cushioned your fall.

The office fell into stunned silence. Everyone froze, eyes wide as they processed what had just happened.

“Are you okay?” Minjeong’s voice was low and urgent, her breath warm against your ear. Her arms remained firmly around you, as if afraid to let go.

You nodded shakily, your hands clutching at her blazer for support. “Y-Yeah. I think so.”

Her eyes scanned you, sharp and precise, searching for any sign of injury. When she was satisfied that you were unharmed, her gaze shifted, hardening as it landed on the assistant who had caused the commotion.

“What were you thinking?” she snapped, her tone cutting through the room like a blade.

The assistant stammered, their face pale. “I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

A low growl rumbled in Minjeong’s chest, primal and protective, sending a chill through the room. The sound was quiet but unmistakable, and it made everyone within earshot tense. Even the assistant, who had been scrambling to pick up the spilled supplies, froze in place.

“Minjeong,” you whispered, your voice gentle but firm. “I’m okay. It’s fine.”

Her growl subsided at the sound of your voice, her grip on you loosening slightly. She exhaled deeply, the tension in her shoulders easing as she looked down at you.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her tone softening but still tinged with concern.

You nodded, offering her a reassuring smile. “I promise. Thank you for catching me.”

Minjeong blinked, as though coming back to herself. She realized then that she was still holding you, her arms wrapped securely around your waist. Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly helped you to your feet, clearing her throat.

“I…sorry,” she muttered, avoiding your gaze.

“It’s okay,” you said, your smile turning playful. “You kind of saved my life, you know.”

Her lips twitched, the ghost of a smile forming despite her embarrassment. “Just doing my job.”

As the tension in the room began to dissipate, your coworkers slowly returned to their tasks, though not without casting curious glances in your direction. The assistant apologized profusely before hurriedly cleaning up the mess, clearly eager to avoid Minjeong’s wrath.

You crouched down to help pick up the scattered papers, but Minjeong stopped you with a gentle hand on your arm.

“Let them handle it,” she said firmly. “You should sit down and rest.”

“Minjeong, I’m fine,” you insisted, but the look in her eyes told you there was no arguing with her.

“Please,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost pleading.

The softness in her tone caught you off guard, and you relented with a small nod. She guided you back to your desk, her hand lingering on your shoulder for a moment before she stepped away to check on the situation.

For the rest of the day, Minjeong stayed close, her presence a constant source of reassurance. Whenever you caught her glancing in your direction, her eyes filled with concern, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of warmth in your chest.

And though you didn’t say it out loud, a part of you felt safer knowing she was there.

The days had grown longer and more vibrant since Minjeong and Y/N’s near accident on the stairs. Minjeong had become more protective than ever, though she masked it with her usual calm demeanor. But something had shifted between them. The air felt heavier when they were together, charged with an unspoken tension that neither of them was ready to address fully—until today.

Minjeong stood by her office window, staring out at the city skyline. She had been rehearsing her words all morning, a coffee mug clutched tightly in her hand. Her assistant had noticed the alpha’s uncharacteristic hesitation and wisely decided not to interrupt her.

“You’ve got this,” Minjeong muttered to herself. She took a deep breath, set her mug down, and strode confidently out of her office. But as soon as she approached Y/N’s desk, her composure wavered. The omega was typing away, her brow furrowed in concentration, and Minjeong couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Y/N?” Minjeong’s voice came out softer than she intended. Y/N looked up, her expression brightening immediately.

“Oh, hey, Minjeong. What’s up?”

The alpha shifted on her feet, suddenly hyper-aware of how many people were around. She cleared her throat. “Can we talk? Privately?”

Y/N’s brows furrowed slightly, but she nodded. “Sure. Just let me finish this email.”

A few moments later, they were tucked away in an empty conference room. Minjeong closed the door behind them, her heart pounding.

“Is everything okay?” Y/N asked, her voice tinged with concern.

“Yes, everything’s fine,” Minjeong said quickly, then winced at how abrupt she sounded. She took another deep breath, willing herself to calm down. “Actually, I… I wanted to ask you something.”

Y/N tilted her head, curiosity replacing her concern. “Okay?”

“Would you… would you like to go out for coffee with me?” Minjeong’s words came out in a rush, her cheeks tinging pink. “I mean, just the two of us. Not as coworkers. Just as… us.”

Y/N blinked, her lips parting in surprise. For a moment, Minjeong feared she had misread everything. But then, a slow smile spread across Y/N’s face, and she nodded.

“I’d like that,” Y/N said softly.

Relief flooded through Minjeong, and she couldn’t stop the grin that broke across her face. “Great. How about tonight?”

Y/N’s smile widened. “Tonight sounds perfect.”

The coffee shop Minjeong chose was cozy and tucked away in a quieter part of the city. It was the kind of place where people came to unwind, with warm lighting, soft jazz music playing in the background, and the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. Minjeong had arrived early, her nerves getting the better of her.

She had just finished checking her reflection in her phone screen for the tenth time when Y/N walked in. The sight of her took Minjeong’s breath away. Y/N wasn’t dressed in her usual office attire but in a casual sweater and jeans that somehow made her look even more stunning.

“Hey,” Y/N said, smiling as she approached the table.

“Hey,” Minjeong replied, standing awkwardly before motioning for Y/N to sit. “You look… great.”

“Thanks,” Y/N said, her cheeks flushing slightly. “You do too.”

They ordered their drinks, and for a while, the conversation was light and easy. They talked about work, the rainstorm earlier in the week, and the latest office gossip. But as the evening wore on, the conversation turned more personal.

“I’ve always loved coffee shops like this,” Y/N said, her fingers tracing the rim of her mug. “They remind me of home.”

“Home?” Minjeong asked, leaning forward.

Y/N nodded. “I grew up in a small town. There was this little café where everyone would gather. It’s where I first started baking, actually. The owner let me use the kitchen after hours to experiment with recipes.”

Minjeong smiled, picturing a younger Y/N covered in flour and determinedly mixing batter. “That sounds… nice. Peaceful.”

“It was,” Y/N said wistfully. “But I wanted more than a small-town life. So, I moved here. It’s been good, but sometimes I miss how simple things were back then.”

Minjeong nodded, her gaze thoughtful. “I get that. The city can be overwhelming, especially when you feel like you have to constantly prove yourself.”

Y/N looked at her, a flicker of understanding in her eyes. “Is that how you feel?”

Minjeong hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. Being an alpha in a corporate world like ours… it’s complicated. People expect you to be strong, assertive, always in control. But sometimes, I just want to… not have to be any of those things.”

Y/N’s gaze softened. “That sounds exhausting.”

“It is,” Minjeong admitted. “But then there are moments that make it worth it. Moments like this.”

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, her cheeks flushing. “Minjeong…”

The alpha shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Sorry, that probably sounded cheesy.”

“No,” Y/N said quickly, her voice earnest. “It didn’t. I… I’m glad you asked me out tonight.”

Minjeong’s smile widened. “Me too.”

They spent the rest of the evening talking, the hours slipping away unnoticed. By the time they left the café, the city was quiet, the streets glistening under the soft glow of streetlights. Minjeong insisted on driving Y/N home again, and this time, the car ride was filled with comfortable silence and shared smiles.

When they reached Y/N’s apartment building, Minjeong walked her to the door.

“Thanks for tonight,” Y/N said, her voice soft.

“Thank you,” Minjeong replied. “I… really enjoyed it.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. “Me too.”

For a moment, they stood there, the world around them fading away. Then Y/N leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to Minjeong’s cheek. “Goodnight, Minjeong.”

The alpha’s heart raced as she watched Y/N disappear into the building, her hand unconsciously brushing the spot where Y/N’s lips had touched her skin. She stood there for a moment longer, a smile spreading across her face.

Tonight had been perfect.

The day began like any other—files to review, meetings to attend, and the faint aroma of coffee and paper wafting through the office. Y/N was unusually quiet that morning, her usual cheerful demeanor replaced by a subtle tenseness that Minjeong couldn’t ignore. Though Y/N smiled politely when spoken to, her eyes seemed distant, her body language subdued.

Minjeong noticed immediately. She always did.

From her office, she watched Y/N shuffle through her tasks with uncharacteristic sluggishness. Something was wrong, and the faint prickling of her alpha instincts told her it was more than just a bad day. She tried to focus on her own work, but her gaze kept drifting to Y/N’s desk. It wasn’t until the omega abruptly stood, gripping the edge of her desk for support, that Minjeong’s concern sharpened into alarm.

Y/N’s scent shifted—a faint, sweet warmth that drifted into the air, growing stronger by the second. Minjeong stiffened, her instincts roaring to attention as she recognized the telltale signs of an omega entering an unexpected heat. Around the office, other alphas subtly straightened, their noses twitching as they picked up on the scent. Minjeong’s jaw clenched.

She was out of her office in seconds, crossing the floor to Y/N’s desk. “Y/N,” she said softly, her voice low enough to avoid drawing attention but firm enough to cut through Y/N’s haze.

Y/N turned to her, her eyes glassy and unfocused. “I… I think…” Her voice wavered, and she swayed slightly on her feet.

“Come with me,” Minjeong said, stepping closer. She gently placed a hand on Y/N’s arm, steadying her. The touch seemed to ground the omega, and she nodded, leaning into Minjeong’s support. Minjeong’s heart twisted at the vulnerability in Y/N’s expression, but she pushed it aside. Right now, Y/N needed her.

The other employees were starting to notice, their whispers and curious glances only heightening Minjeong’s urgency. Without a word, she guided Y/N toward the elevators, shielding her from prying eyes with her own body. When a junior alpha from accounting started to approach, Minjeong shot them a warning glare, a low growl rumbling in her chest. The other alpha froze, then wisely retreated.

Once inside the elevator, Minjeong pressed the button for the top floor. The building had a few unused executive suites that were kept locked and private. It was the safest place she could think of.

Y/N’s breathing was shallow, her face flushed as she leaned heavily against the elevator wall. Minjeong stayed close but kept her hands to herself, knowing how overwhelming physical contact could be during a heat.

“We’re almost there,” she murmured, her voice steady and calming. Y/N’s eyes flickered to hers, and for a moment, Minjeong thought she saw a flicker of gratitude.

The elevator dinged, and Minjeong led Y/N down the empty hallway to one of the locked suites. She used her master keycard to unlock the door, ushering Y/N inside before closing it firmly behind them. The room was quiet and spacious, with a plush couch and large windows overlooking the city.

“Sit,” Minjeong said gently, gesturing to the couch. Y/N obeyed, sinking into the cushions with a soft sigh. Her scent was stronger now, filling the room with a warmth that made Minjeong’s pulse quicken. She forced herself to focus, setting her bag down and taking a step back to give Y/N space.

“Do you need anything?” Minjeong asked, keeping her voice soft. “Water? A blanket?”

Y/N shook her head, her hands trembling slightly as she gripped the edge of the couch. “I… I didn’t think it would happen here,” she said, her voice thick with embarrassment. “It’s never been so sudden before.”

“It’s okay,” Minjeong said firmly. “You’re safe. Just focus on breathing, alright?”

Y/N nodded, closing her eyes as she tried to steady herself. Minjeong watched her carefully, her own instincts warring within her. The protective urge to stay close was almost overwhelming, but she knew better than to act on it. Y/N needed comfort, not pressure.

After a few moments, Y/N’s breathing evened out slightly, though her flushed cheeks and the faint sheen of sweat on her forehead betrayed the intensity of her heat. “I… I’m sorry for causing a scene,” she said quietly, not meeting Minjeong’s eyes.

“Don’t apologize,” Minjeong said immediately. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Y/N’s lips quirked into a weak smile. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

Minjeong’s expression softened. “Not always. But I mean it. You don’t have to feel bad for something you can’t control.”

For a while, the two of them sat in silence, the tension in the room slowly easing. Minjeong stayed by the door, her arms crossed as she kept a careful eye on Y/N. Despite the situation, there was something oddly comforting about being here with her, away from the chaos of the office. It felt… intimate, in a way that Minjeong hadn’t expected.

“Minjeong?” Y/N’s voice broke the quiet.

“Yeah?”

Y/N hesitated, her eyes darting to the floor. “Thank you. For helping me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if… if you weren’t there.”

Minjeong’s chest tightened, a warm ache spreading through her. “You don’t have to thank me,” she said softly. “I’ll always be here for you. No matter what.”

Y/N looked up at her then, her eyes shimmering with unspoken emotion. For a moment, the room felt impossibly small, the air between them charged with something neither of them dared to name. Then Y/N’s lips curved into a faint smile, and the tension eased, replaced by a quiet understanding.

“You should get some rest,” Minjeong said, clearing her throat. “I’ll stay out here and keep an eye on things.”

Y/N nodded, leaning back against the couch with a tired sigh. As her eyes fluttered shut, Minjeong settled into a chair by the door, her posture relaxed but alert. She knew the next few hours would be long, but she didn’t mind. Protecting Y/N, keeping her safe—it felt right. Natural.

Minjeong found herself anxiously smoothing down her blazer for what felt like the hundredth time. She stood outside a cozy café nestled in the quieter part of the city, a place Y/N had chosen for their second date. Their first official outing had gone better than Minjeong could have hoped. But today felt different. She could feel the weight of words she’d been holding back pressing heavily on her chest.

“Minjeong!” Y/N’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. Turning, Minjeong saw her walking up the cobblestone path, a soft smile playing on her lips. She wore a light sweater that made her look impossibly warm and approachable. Minjeong’s heart did a somersault, the kind that left her both exhilarated and terrified.

“Y/N,” Minjeong greeted, her voice softer than she intended. She held the door open, and they stepped inside together.

The café was a charming little nook, its walls lined with bookshelves and fairy lights. The gentle hum of conversation filled the air, mingling with the rich scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries. They found a quiet corner, and as they settled into their seats, Minjeong couldn’t help but notice how Y/N’s eyes sparkled when she looked around.

“This place is lovely,” Y/N said, her hands wrapping around the warm cup of tea the barista had just placed in front of her. “I can’t believe I haven’t been here before.”

Minjeong nodded, watching her as she spoke. She loved how Y/N’s voice carried a gentle lilt, how her presence seemed to soften even the sharpest edges of Minjeong’s restless mind.

“You’re the one who suggested it,” Minjeong said, a teasing glint in her eyes. “But I agree. It’s... cozy.”

Y/N chuckled softly, and for a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, sipping their drinks. Minjeong felt the tension in her shoulders ease, but the words she needed to say lingered at the back of her throat, refusing to come out. It wasn’t until Y/N leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand and looking at her with those impossibly kind eyes, that Minjeong realized she couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Y/N,” she began, her voice hesitant. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Oh? What is it?”

Minjeong hesitated, her fingers tightening around her coffee cup. She took a deep breath, gathering her courage. “I... I like you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “A lot. More than I think I even realized at first.”

Y/N’s smile grew, and she leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable for a moment. Minjeong’s heart pounded in the silence that followed, her mind racing with every worst-case scenario.

“You’re really bad at hiding it, you know,” Y/N finally said, her tone playful. “I’ve known for a while.”

Minjeong blinked, stunned. “You... knew?”

“Of course I did.” Y/N laughed, her cheeks flushing slightly. “You’re not exactly subtle, Minjeong. The lingering stares, the way you always find excuses to be near me... It’s kind of adorable, actually.”

Minjeong felt her face heat up, and she ducked her head slightly. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I was waiting for you to,” Y/N admitted, her voice softening. “I didn’t want to rush you. Besides, I liked seeing you figure it out on your own. It made it feel... genuine.”

Minjeong looked up, her eyes meeting Y/N’s. There was no teasing in her gaze now, only warmth and sincerity. Something inside Minjeong eased, and for the first time, she allowed herself to smile fully.

“I don’t know why I was so scared,” Minjeong said, her voice barely audible. “I just... didn’t want to ruin what we have. You’re important to me.”

Y/N reached across the table, her hand resting lightly on Minjeong’s. “And you’re important to me, too. More than you probably realize.”

The gentle weight of Y/N’s hand against hers sent a wave of warmth through Minjeong, and she squeezed it lightly. For a moment, the world outside the café faded away, leaving only the two of them in their little corner of peace.

As they left the café, the cool evening air greeted them. They walked side by side, the city’s lights casting a soft glow around them. When they reached Y/N’s building, she turned to Minjeong, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

“Thank you for tonight,” Y/N said. “I had a really good time.”

“Me too,” Minjeong replied, her voice gentle. She hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. “Y/N... can I—?”

Y/N didn’t let her finish. Smiling, she closed the small distance between them, standing on her toes to press a soft, lingering kiss to Minjeong’s lips. It was tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but when Minjeong responded, cupping Y/N’s face with trembling hands, it deepened into something that felt like a promise.

When they finally pulled away, Y/N’s eyes were bright, and Minjeong felt like she could conquer the world. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Y/N said softly, her voice laced with something Minjeong couldn’t quite place but knew she never wanted to lose.

Minjeong nodded, unable to keep the smile off her face. “Tomorrow.”

As she walked away, Minjeong felt lighter than she had in years. She didn’t just feel like an alpha or a manager or a woman trying to navigate the complexities of life in the city. She felt like someone who had finally found home.

The soft hum of the oven filled Minjeong’s cozy apartment, mingling with the warm aroma of freshly baked cookies. It was a stark contrast to the quiet professionalism that usually defined their weekdays at the office. Here, away from deadlines and meetings, the world felt smaller, simpler—just the two of them, and a batch of chocolate chip cookies.

Y/N stood at the counter, hands dusted with flour as she worked dough into perfectly round shapes. Her laugh was light as she glanced over at Minjeong, who was struggling with her own misshapen attempts.

“How do you make it look so easy?” Minjeong grumbled, holding up a lumpy ball of dough that barely resembled a circle. Her lips were slightly pursed in concentration, but her cheeks flushed from embarrassment.

“Years of practice,” Y/N teased, leaning closer to inspect Minjeong’s work. “But hey, this one’s not bad.” She picked up the lopsided creation and held it between her fingers. “See? Almost perfect.”

“Almost?” Minjeong raised a playful eyebrow. “Harsh.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes sparkling as she turned back to her tray. “You’ll get there. Eventually.”

Minjeong rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the grin spreading across her face. She set down her latest attempt and stepped closer to Y/N, brushing her hands on her apron. “You’re just showing off now.”

“And?” Y/N smirked, her tone light and teasing.

The playful banter filled the room, a rhythm they had fallen into so naturally that it felt like second nature. It was hard to believe that just months ago, Minjeong had been too nervous to even compliment Y/N’s cookies at work. Now, she was elbow-deep in cookie dough, laughing at her own failures with someone who had become the most important part of her life.

Minjeong reached over and stole a small pinch of dough from Y/N’s tray. Before Y/N could protest, Minjeong popped it into her mouth with a smug look.

“Minjeong!” Y/N gasped, her hands on her hips. “You’re going to throw off the balance!”

“I’ll risk it,” Minjeong said, her voice muffled by the dough. She grinned and leaned on the counter, watching as Y/N shook her head, half-exasperated and half-amused.

“You’re impossible,” Y/N said, but her tone lacked any real heat.

Minjeong’s gaze softened as she watched Y/N’s smile linger, even as she pretended to scold. This was the kind of happiness Minjeong had never thought she’d find—effortless, genuine, and entirely tied to the person standing in front of her.

The oven timer beeped, pulling Minjeong from her thoughts. Y/N moved to grab a mitt and carefully pulled out the tray, setting it on the counter. The cookies were golden brown, their edges crisp and centers soft. Minjeong leaned closer, inhaling deeply.

“Smells amazing,” she murmured.

“Of course it does,” Y/N replied, feigning pride. “It’s my recipe, after all.”

Minjeong chuckled and grabbed two mugs from a cabinet. “Milk or tea?” she asked, holding them up.

“Milk,” Y/N said, her tone definitive. “Cookies without milk are just sad.”

Minjeong nodded in agreement and poured two glasses of milk, setting them down on the small table in the living room. She returned to the kitchen and began transferring cookies onto a plate, doing her best to avoid the ones she’d shaped—those would stay hidden for now.

Y/N noticed and nudged her. “They all go on the plate, Minjeong. Even the… unique ones.”

“Fine,” Minjeong sighed, but she couldn’t stop smiling as she added the misshapen cookies to the plate.

Once the cookies were ready, they settled on the couch together, the plate balanced between them. Rain pattered softly against the windows, and the warm glow of a single lamp bathed the room in a cozy light. It felt like a scene out of a movie—a peaceful, domestic moment that neither of them wanted to end.

“I never thought I’d be here,” Minjeong admitted after a long stretch of comfortable silence. She glanced at Y/N, her expression thoughtful. “With someone who makes me feel so… grounded.”

Y/N looked at her, surprised by the sudden vulnerability in Minjeong’s voice. She set down her cookie and turned to face her fully. “You mean that?”

Minjeong nodded, her gaze steady. “I’ve spent so much time trying to keep my instincts in check, trying to be the kind of alpha who doesn’t make people uncomfortable. But with you…” She trailed off, searching for the right words. “I don’t feel like I have to hide anything.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, and she smiled softly. “You don’t have to hide anything from me, Minjeong. I like you just the way you are.”

The sincerity in her voice made Minjeong’s heart ache in the best way. She reached out, hesitating for a moment before taking Y/N’s hand in hers. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

Y/N squeezed her hand gently, her eyes shining with warmth. “For what?”

“For being you,” Minjeong replied. “For making me feel like I’ve finally found where I belong.”

The moment stretched between them, filled with unspoken emotions that didn’t need words. Minjeong leaned closer, her eyes flicking to Y/N’s lips for just a second before she pulled back, her cheeks pink.

Y/N chuckled, reaching for another cookie. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered, you know that?”

Minjeong groaned, covering her face with her free hand. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

“Not a chance,” Y/N teased, biting into her cookie.

Despite her embarrassment, Minjeong couldn’t help but smile. She leaned back against the couch, her hand still intertwined with Y/N’s. The scent of cookies lingered in the air, mixing with the faintest trace of Y/N’s calming scent. a/n: sigh, i kinda gave up on this one halfway through😭😭 the burnout is real you guys.

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demusewriter · 2 months ago

Text

I Loved You Too Early

Summary: You've been admiring the captain of the prominent football team in your school, whom you secretly admiring from afar. You thought he was out of your reach until you saw him studying in your brother's room. Genre: brother's best friend, slow-burn Pairing: Non-idol! Jungwon x Fem! Reader Word count: Part I: 11,432k; Part II: 14,297k (Overall: 26,179k) Chapters: 10 (Completed) (divided in two parts) Warnings: This is heavily inspired by the Chinese drama 'Hidden Love' so there's a big resemblance, age gap (5 years difference), unrequited love, a little bit of sprinkle of angst, fluff, time skip, just a teeny-weeny bit of fist fighting (but not too much!), and not solid proof-read because its too long (╥﹏╥). Author's Note: I apologize for being gone for a year (⭑•͈ 𓎟 •͈ ). While working on this, I suddenly became so busy with college that I decided to put it on hold. Now that I've graduated and started working in corporate, my responsibilities have doubled or even tripled, and I completely forgot to continue this. (◞‸ ◟) However, in the past few days, I've been motivated to finally finish it. ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´- This was supposed to be in a longer format, but I decided to divide it into two parts so you can take breaks without missing where you left off. Thank you all for patiently waiting! I hope you'll enjoy this one as well. Enjoy!

PART I PART II

Chapter One

You don't know exactly when your dull world was invaded by an unexpected rhythm that made your whole world sway in unending swirling motions.

When did your pulse start to waltz to the beat of an unknown tune, or when did your heart seem to pound louder than before, like a drum heralding the arrival of a marching band.

At first, these sensations frighten you, as you thought you were experiencing early symptoms of heart disease since your heart was not beating normally.

But this unfamiliar heartbeat, the strong and powerful thump of your heart, doesn't hurt; instead, it is sweet, pleasant, and almost comforting.

Then it hit you like an epiphany.

The erratic rhythm of your heart wasn't a medical heart disease at all, but an emotional one.

The strange heartbeat wasn't a signal of a heart condition—it was the throbbing pulse of attraction, of affection, of something you had never felt before:

Love.

A feeling that is often described as an intense, affectionate concern for another individual or object. It is one of humanity's most profound emotions, embedded in both our psyche and our essence.

They said that love's profound complexity underscores its paradoxical nature; you have to—

'pay attention'

—pay attention to recognize it as an emotion that deserves—

'Y/N'

—respect, care and openne—

"Nishimura Y/N!"

Your eyes immediately snapped open when you heard the scream of your name, making you bolt upright from your productive daydreaming.

You quickly blink your eyes to adjust your vision from the blurriness brought on by your deep slumber.

As you tried to shake off the sleepiness, your eyes settled on the person standing in front of the blackboard, brows furrowed, glaring at you with irritation.

You immediately stood up like a soldier from your chair, making a loud screeching noise from the abrupt motion.

"You're not paying attention in my class, Ms. Y/N." Your math teacher pointed out the obvious when she got you caught slacking off in her subject.

Your face burned hotter than a thousand suns, and your ears tingled with embarrassment. The usual supportive wall of the classroom felt like it bows inward, ready to collapse on you.

"I-I'm sorry, Mrs. K-kim" You bowed as you stammered an apology, voice barely audible.

You kept your head down, feeling the sudden shame creep in your body when you saw everyone in the class watching you.

Their interest was now directed from the perplexing equations on the board to the scene unfolding at the back.

"I expect all of you to respect the time I put into preparing lessons and the class itself. If you have issues staying awake in my class, especially you, Ms. Nishimura," you flinched at the mention of your family name.

"I suggest you try to figure out the equation for resolving that issue before you start learning about algebra," she continued, her gaze firmly locked with yours while her face was void of any emotion.

The snickers from your classmates were almost as unbearable as the chasing glare from Mrs. Kim. She let out a disappointed sigh before deciding to continue the discussion.

You slowly sat back on your chair, still red with embarrassment, knowing that this unforgettable scene would become classroom lore, a tale that would inevitably follow you through the rest of your middle school year.

"Someone stayed up all night reading manga again." Chunso, one of your bestfriend, teases you after the math class ends.

"Is it my fault that her voice sounds like a lullaby?" You pouted while putting all your things in your bag.

Well, it's true.

Mrs. Kim, who had been teaching for thirty good years, had a voice with a subdued resonance, softer than silk yet harder than rock.

It was a perfect lullaby for you when the math equations emerged with her voice, creating a hypnotic sonata of numbers.

"Really?" He deadpanned. "You're going to blame her voice when your thick eyebags already speak for you that you haven't had enough sleep?" he playfully flicked your forehead, making you whine. "You're lucky she didn't put you in detention."

You continued to pursed your lips and decided not to comment on anything since it was really your fault for spending the rest of your night reading Shounen manga until dawn, leaving you only 4 hours of sleep.

And so you thought of sneakily using the time in math class to take a short nap, but that short snooze took you to dreamland, completely sweeping you off from reality.

Then you get caught.

If only the first letter in Chunso's last name is closer to yours, then there's a big chance he'll be your seatmate, which will help you prevent getting caught.

But you were so unlucky, as he was in the front row while you were in the last.

"Oh, what happened to her?" your other bestfriend, Eunhee, asked when she saw you sulking while clinging to Chunso's arm.

Unfortunately, she's not in the same class as you and Chunso, so you all just meet in the hallway every lunch break.

"Got caught sleeping." You hide your face behind Chunso's arm when you feel another wave of embarrassment hit you. You also expected a row of teasing words from her, but instead, you were embraced by a warm arm around your shoulder with a gentle rub on your arm.

"Did you get detention?" You looked up to her and shook your head in response.

"Then there's nothing to be worried about," she consoled, offering you a comforting smile that wipes your shame away.

You let go of Chunso's arm and cling your arms around her.

You wanted the rest of your high school journey to be quiet and unnoticed, your presence a mere ripple in the grand ocean of faces. But, as luck would have it, today you were scolded in front of 35 students.

"Aigoo, my little sister had a rough day." She coos while patting your head gently. Even though she was only four months older than you, she always considered you her younger sibling, as she never had one.

"Yah! Did you tease her about it?" Eunhee's soft voice was quickly replaced with a loud, arrogant one when her attention went back to Chunso.

"I didn't!" Chunso defended, his eyes suddenly finding the floor interesting as he tried to avoid the scrutinizing eyes of his friend.

You felt Eunhee's hand stop patting your head when she sensed that he was lying. Suddenly, Chunso yelped in pain. You looked up and saw her pulling the boy's poor hair.

You let out a giggle at your two friends acting like they were going to make each other bald by snatching each other's hair.

You take hold of their arms and gently remove their holds on both of their hair.

"It's okay, I'm good now," you assured them while softly fixing their messy hair. You might get teased about what happened earlier, but at least it leaves you with a lesson to learn to balance your time to avoid getting sleepy in class.

Your genuine smile partnered with the softness in your eyes removes their worries.

Ever since your friendship bloomed after you helped the two treat their wounds after the incident in your PE class in 4th grade, they have always stuck with you and considered you their precious little sister that they needed to protect.

So, the thought that you might get teased about the humiliating situation concerns them.

"Let's have lunch!" You excitedly exclaim and drag them with you as you cling to their arms.

Chunso and Eunhee shared a look while they let you yank them to the cafeteria, a silent agreement that your lunch is on them to brighten the rest of your day.

After the delightful lunch break that you have with your friends, which they surprise you with a once-a-month sale of bacon croque monsieur in the cafeteria along with a legendary chocolate mousse that makes you jump from happiness, you shortly parted ways with them as you are instructed by your teacher to get some books from the library that will be used in your class activity.

As you walk through the empty hallways, with the crisp pages and musty scent of the books accompanying you, something catches your peripheral vision.

Across the dusty path to your next class, you saw a spectacle unfolding on the bustling football field.

Captivated by the sudden burst of energy from the loud cheering, you rubbed your eyes and squinted through your glasses, pausing your hurried steps.

From your point in the hallway, you can see a group of people energetically playing football, and the scene looks like a small showdown.

You were never the biggest football fan, but you could at least appreciate the smooth precision of their passes.

With a further inspection from your spot, you could make out why a handful of spectators and students are basking in the afternoon sun when you see some of the players wearing the most famous navy blue and white striped jersey.

The group that clad themselves in that jersey were not just average students; they were the revered football team of your school.

The Nightball Team.

Ever since the establishment of the Nightball Team, it has consistently reigned supreme, its renown spreading far beyond the city.

The team is born out of a unique blend of teamwork, discipline, ambition, and a fierce drive for continuous development.

Making them act as an emblem representing not just the school but the principles its students stand for.

Every time the name of your school is mentioned, the Nightball Team is always the first thing that comes to everyone's mind.

That's how famous they are.

Amidst the navy blue and white-soaked jerseys, a certain person caught your attention. His physique was chiseled, his movements defying time as he led the team with an innate confidence that was as charming as it was stirring.

His jersey number 04, clung to his athletic body as he ran, skillfully dodging the opponents while carrying the ball that was tucked in his arm. Each tactical maneuver, every calculated move, displayed an enchanting dance of dominance and tenacity.

Then it happened—Nightball Team scored, erupting a loud cheer from the crowd.

As the dust settled around him, he looked up, his face breaking into a humble, triumphant grin that lit up his eyes.

It was as if the Earth rotated a little slower, distorted only by the increased pace of your heart.

Ah, now you remember when did your heart started to act out like a drum roll, jumping to the beat like a fool.

It was when he humbly acknowledged a job well done, his genuine joy for the game, and the soft crinkles around his eyes as he gently smiled while everyone praised him for scoring the goal.

That was the moment when you felt it for the first time—your stomach fluttering like there was a swarm of butterflies lodged in there, and your heart skipped a beat—for the first time, not for the new volume of Shounen Manga

but for someone else.

A peculiar sensation that only happens because of him.

Only because of him.

Chapter Two

As everyone in the class attempts to pay attention, the warm sunlight flowing through the classroom window did little to improve the class' concentration.

The monotone voice of your teacher talking about some dead men who died in a fight hundreds of years ago slowly puts everyone to sleep.

It was another ordinary Wednesday for the rest of the students, but for you, it was unimaginably extraordinary.

Before, there was no particular day that seemed special for you.

It was all just ordinary that you have to get through—well, except for Sunday, since that's the scheduled release for each chapter of the manga you are currently binge-reading.

However, after you learned that every Wednesday was the Nightball Team's practice in the field, it became a day that you always looked forward to.

The day when you can only see him.

It's unexplainable how his humble smile, which makes his dimples dig deeper into his natural rosy cheeks while his eyes form a crescent moon, can catch not only your attention but also your very young heart.

Maybe you were simply mesmerized by a man who wore the number 04 jersey, even though you didn't know his name.

You tried everything you could to know his name; you tried to dig through the old school newspapers that you sometimes kept to solve the sudoku part and re-read the sports section in the hope his name would be mentioned.

You also tried to go to your school's website, searching for him by using the Nightball Team's name in the search engine, which is always a hot topic on the website, but surprisingly, you were still left wondering what his name was.

The two options that you chose to know who is the mysterious jersey number 04 are the best choices that you could have since that's all you can do.

However, you still have one good option left.

The best option that will surely secure the chance of knowing his name.

But no matter how great this option was, you would rather get embarrassed again in the class than choosing it.

Asking your brother.

Your brother, Ni-ki Nishimura, who is part of the baseball team, is the best option to ask anything about sports, as he has been athletic and very knowledgeable in that area ever since you were both children.

He is a born sports prodigy.

Besides being part of the sports club at your school, he also has a huge number of friends, not only on his team but especially on the football team.

You don't know why, because the last time you checked, baseball and football are different sports, but your brother appears to be much closer to the members of the Nightball Team than his.

He really is the best choice to finally name the one you are admiring if he is not only a pain in the ass.

Despite your family's crowning him a prodigy and naturally talented, he is always the annoying and bloody irritating brother in your eyes.

He will literally make fun of your desperate mission of knowing the name of a particular person on the football team.

Heck, he might give you the wrong name just for fun.

However, that is not the worst thing that might happen if you ask him something that will give him a hint that you have developed a sudden interest in someone, especially if that someone is the opposite gender from you.

He will explode.

Your brother, who is five years older than you, has the tendency to become very protective when it comes to you.

He might be an obnoxious and nosy brother, but he has a soft spot for you that he cannot admit.

He will do everything to protect you, especially your heart, from men.

Therefore, if he finds out that you are growing admiration for someone, especially in the Nightball Team, he will literally ban you from going to the football field.

You sigh as you scribble his jersey number in your notebook while the boring class continues.

The bell signaling the end of the class of the day rang, making your mood reach the ceiling of happiness. The usual fidgeting in your seat to the rhythm of the clock turned into a wild scramble as you packed up your textbooks and pencil case into your bag.

You rush out of the classroom with thoughts of finally watching a football practice occupying your mind.

But before you could fully get out of the room, you felt a tug on your bag forcefully stop you in your tracks.

"What's with the rush?" Chunso asked still holding your bag.

"I-I'm going to the l-library!" You exclaim as you stumble over your words. Your friend's eyes immediately narrowed into slits when he sense you are making excuses.

"What will you do there?" he interrogates, as it was unusual for you to go to the library after class since you were always eager to go back home to spend the rest of your day reading manga.

"To study, o-of course," you said, forcing a smile in the hopes he would buy your alibi. However, it just proved his suspicion that you are hiding some information that you don't want him to know.

"Hmm." Your smile slowly faded when you realized he didn't believe you. You sigh in defeat.

"I promise that I'm not doing anything bad." You raised your pinky at him as an assurance to ease his worries.

Chunso was still observing you, looking for any hint of lying. He then let out a sigh, seeing the sincere look behind your words.

"You promise to message me and Eunhee when you get home," he said, raising his pinky. A big smile made its way into your face, brightening your mood.

Even though Chunso is not entirely convinced to let you go since you didn't tell him the real reason why you don't want to go home yet, he still trusts you that you're not doing anything behind their back that will make them worried.

You tightly cling your pinky to his, sealing it with both of your thumbs touching.

"I promise!"

After saying goodbye to Chunso, you immediately skip your way to the football field with so much giddiness. Each step you take intensifies your excitement as you are finally able to watch the practice match of the Nightball Team without using the view from the hallway.

You spot an empty seat that is secluded from the rest of the bleachers, although it is far away from the field where the players play, it is still enough for you to cheerfully cheer for your jersey number 04 without being noticed.

The crowd suddenly screamed with excitement when the players of the Nightball team showed up on the field. Your eyes started to scan the players, finding the specific person who always filled your sketchbook and slowly became your favorite muse.

It was as if your world had suddenly slipped into slow motion, and all the noises were muted when you saw him walking with confidence in the field—everything but him and his bright smile faded away.

You held your chest when you felt your heart skip again in a beat that only he could make.

Each time he ran across the field, swinging the ball with finesse, you would do a small victory dance in your heart. You watched every move, every goal, every mistake he made, and still supported him while your hand was busy sketching every movement he made and leaving small comments of amazement beside your sketch.

You would also offer whispers of encouragement, muffled applause, and silent woohoo with your heart thumped in silent cheer.

As the sun went down and the practice match ended, you found a sense of fulfillment you had rarely felt before. You hadn't elbowed your way through the fanatic crowd or screamed your lungs out, but something told you that you cheered the loudest.

It feels like you were bewitched by his enchanting display of professionalism and respect for the game, that you always find yourself in the same seat every week, watching him with full admiration in your eyes.

Your heart fluttered as you headed home while reminiscing the practice match you watched earlier, already dreaming of the next Wednesday when you could watch your jersey number 04 playing on the field again.

"Practice match?" Your mom spoke once you entered the house.

She's the only one who knows that you always watch the football practice, as you can never lie to her. Somehow it makes you guilty because your mom thought you were just growing a fascination with that sport, not knowing you're only there for a certain person.

"Yep!" You sneakily grab a slice of fruit in a bowl that your mom passionately peeled and cut into pieces. "But I went to Eunhee's house to do our assignments."

The football match ended much earlier than usual; sometimes it takes two to three hours, but today they concluded the practice for an hour, giving you time to drop by Eunhee's house when she invited you and Chunso to do your homework there, although you three only ended up watching movies instead of doing it.

You were about to get another slice of fruit when your mother gently slapped your hand, stopping you from getting more.

"You're going to be full before you can get dinner. Go to your room to wash up and call your brother; we will have dinner in a minute." She ushered as you pouted and sulkingly went upstairs, making your mom shake her head at your sillyness.

Then she remembered something.

"Ah, bring down your brother's friend as well!!" she yelled from downstairs, muffling her voice in the process as you entered your room, making you not hear the rest of her words.

"Nii-san, we're going to eat" You called outside your brother's room, clad in your blue Cinnamoroll print pajamas after you wash up.

"Riki-niisan!" You knock on his door repeatedly when he doesn't respond, making your cheeks puff in annoyance.

"I'm going to your room if you don't come out," you threatened, knowing your brother doesn't like you setting foot in his room.

You rolled your eyes and barged into his room, kicking the door open.

"Nii-chan! What's taking you so long!?" You screamed at the top of your lungs with both of your hands resting on your hips.

You expect to see him playing PlayStation while wearing his headphones, the reason he couldn't hear you calling because of the noises in the game, but instead, you are greeted with a familiar pair of Boba eyes staring at you.

You furrowed your eyebrows, squinting your eyes in the process to get a better look at the person sitting on the chair, as you forgot to wear your glasses.

He's definitely not your brother, as his eyes were sharper, contrasting to the softer eyes of this person in front of you.

You take a step closer to see his face, which is still blurry in your vision.

On the other hand, the boy suddenly felt amused at how you tried to scrutinize him. He couldn't help but chuckle when you got even closer.

You were taken aback when he suddenly let out a soft laugh. His dimples appeared on his left cheek with his eyes turning to a crescent moon.

Your eyes slowly went wide when you finally got familiar with those traits that make your heart do summersaults.

You suddenly felt frozen in your position when it slowly registered to you, who were occupying the study table of your brother, surrounded by papers and textbooks that were neatly organized on top of the desk.

You stumbled aback.

How on earth did your nameless jersey number 4 end up in your brother's room?!

Chapter Three

When God decided to create you, he probably accidentally poured too much embarrassment into your basin of personality, or when heaven decided to shower humiliation, you caught all of it as it became a frequent situation that always happened to you.

What's worse is that it happens in front of a person for whom you are developing intense admiration!

You dove into your bed, your face buried deep in your pillow. You gave a mighty inhale and unleashed a deafening scream into its soft embrace while your feet kicked with frustration.

You can bear to get embarrassed again in front of your classmates while your raging teacher scolds you, but not in front of your jersey number 4!

Your first encounter with him wasn't imagined this way; in fact, you didn't have a plan to talk to or be involved with him because you only wanted to admire him from afar.

Still! You had expected to meet him more decently, not while scrutinizing him with squinted eyes in your printed pajamas!

God! You can't imagine how unpleasant you look with your eyes squinting to make your vision clearer with your nose crunching in the process!

"Y/n-chan" You suddenly stop your antics when you hear your brother calling you outside your room. You stay buried in your pillow waiting for him to speak again.

"I'm hungry. Let's go downstairs to eat." Normally, you would straight-up come out of your room and sprint down the stairs, racing your brother ahead to prevent him from getting most of the food that your mother had prepared.

But now, you just want to stay in your room and pray for it to disappear.

"I'm not hungry," you said with a tinge of lack of enthusiasm in your voice.

Although your voice is quite muffled by your pillow, your brother on the other side of the door can clearly sense that you're not in your usual mood.

His brows furrowed.

Ni-ki's sure that he heard you earlier screaming his name at the top of your lungs while he was in the shower, certainly ready to annoy him again. But now, you're acting like your energy suddenly got sucked out of your whole body.

"Really? Mom cooked Oyakodon." He made sure that you heard the last part, knowing that it was your favorite and that it would be hard for you to refuse not to eat. "If you don't come down at any moment, I'm going to eat all of it."

Ni-ki expected the door to burst open and you to rush down the stairs to prevent him from hogging all the meals for himself; however, he was greeted by a different response.

"Hmm, okay" Your muffled hum is his cue to storm inside your room.

"Okay, what's going on with you, brat?" he demandingly asked. Ni-ki might sound annoyed at your unusual antics, but in reality, he was worried and now started racking his head if he did something that made you upset.

He snatches the pillow where your head is buried when you don't reply to his question, making you groan and kick your feet in annoyance.

"Seriously, what's wrong?" Ni-ki slightly cringed when his voice suddenly sounded soft, wishing you hadn't heard it.

He proceeded to touch your forehead, checking your temperature to see if you had gotten sick, to which you only whined and smacked his hand away. Your brother sighed.

"If you have no plan to eat, at least tell mom. She even made an effort to make a big serving of your favorite dish just for you."

Your body went still at what your brother softly said.

Since childhood, your parents have always reminded you of the importance of being grateful for all aspects of life, especially the food that graces your table.

Having been born and raised in Japan, you've been instilled with a deep reverence for food to express your appreciation for the hard work of the farmers and the dedication of those who prepare your meals.

Out of guilt, you found yourself sitting at the dining table savoring your favorite Oyakodon while trying to resist stealing glances at the person seated across from you, right beside your brother.

If it were any ordinary day, you'd likely be devouring your meal with gusto, prompting your mother's gentle reminders to slow down.

But today was different.

The presence of the boy who made your heart race like a runaway train transformed your mealtime into a royal feast, leaving your brother to cast perplexed glances your way, baffled by your another uncharacteristic behavior.

"Did you like the food, Y/n-chan?" your father asked when he also noticed that you weren't eating as usual. You wanted to scold your father for mentioning your name, as you felt all the eyes, including the adorable boba eyes, looking at you.

You wanted to say something, but you were afraid that when you spoke, his eyes would linger on you, making you feel another wave of shame. So, you nodded in response without lifting your head and continued looking at your food.

Your parents looked at each other with worry in their eyes, wondering what had happened to their precious, bubbly daughter.

You felt a hand gently rubbing against your back, making you look at your mother, who was beside you.

"Go finish your food so you can have a rest. I'm going to make you green tea later to help you feel better, hmm?" You felt your eyes slightly water as your mom gently cared for you.

Your guilt increased as they thought you were feeling under the weather when, in fact, you were just shy and embarrassed because your jersey no. 4 was on the same table as you.

"How about you, Jungwon? Did you like the food?" Your ears perked up as you looked in his direction when your mother called his name.

His name is Jungwon?

Your heart pounded in your chest, and a mix of excitement and giddiness coursed through your veins. The name resonated with you in a way you couldn't understand.

His name could be translated to "garden," a fitting name that perfectly describes the feeling you experience every time you see him.

Comfort.

"It always tastes good, Mrs. Nishimura. Thank you so much for the wonderful meal." He replied genuinely with a smile.

'Always? This isn't his first time here?' You unconsciously frowned.

Jungwon looked your way, making your eyes widen due to the unexpected eye contact. You quickly looked down at your plate to avoid his gaze, feeling your cheeks burn, with a lasting redness that stayed through the end of dinner.

You weren't sure whether you would be happy to return to your room and continue to privately revel in your embarrassment or disappointed that dinner had passed so quickly.

As you helped your mom with the dishes, you overheard Jungwon expressing his gratitude to your father for inviting him to dinner as they arranged the table.

A sign that he was about to leave.

"Can you send Jungwon to the door, Y/n-chan?" Your mother's request caught you slightly off guard. You had the urge to decline and come up with an excuse, but the guilt of lying to your mother again held you back.

Reluctantly, you found yourself nodding and accepting the request.

A sigh of relief washed over you when your brother also joined you in sending Jungwon off. However, your relief quickly faded when your brother jokingly rushed out the door, leaving Jungwon behind and you alone with him in the genkan as he put on his shoes.

As you stood by the front door, an awkward silence hung between the two of you. You avoided making eye contact, and as Jungwon prepared to leave, you muttered a shy goodbye.

Throughout dinner, Jungwon had been bothered by your quietness and avoidance of eye contact. It led him to believe that he had made you uncomfortable, especially after your encounter with him in Ni-ki's room that made you dash out of your brother's room.

Ni-ki's comment about you acting unusually and not being in the mood for dinner further supported his belief that he had made you uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable tonight," he softly said, his voice tinged with worry, making your brows furrowed in confusion.

"I'm sorry if I laughed earlier; I didn't mean it in a bad way," Jungwon continued as he scratched the back of his head awkwardly. He thought that his chuckles over your actions were the reason why you got uncomfortable.

Your heart sank when you realized that your actions during dinner had made him think that you were offended by him and that his presence made you uncomfortable.

You quickly shook your head, desperately wanting him to understand the truth. "No, no, there's nothing to apologize for! I assure you, you didn't make me uncomfortable. I'm just naturally shy."

Relief washed over his face as he let out a breath he seemed to have been holding. "Really? I thought I made you upset."

"Not at all. I just felt embarrassed because I didn't know Ni-chan had a guest, and I didn't greet them properly." You couldn't help but puff your cheeks when you felt another wave of shyness as you looked down at your fiddling fingers.

A smile crept onto Jungwon's face, making his eyes soften. "It's okay, I know you were just surprised. No need to get embarrassed."

A surge of warm feelings engulfed your heart when you heard his gentle reassurance. You really wanted to look at him, but you were afraid that he'd see the redness in your cheeks that reflected your true feelings for him.

Your thoughts were cut off when you saw his hand offered towards you. You try to swallow your fears and find a courage to slowly looked up from his hand to his face.

You could almost hear your heart pound with fervor, like a wild drumbeat in harmony with your emotions, when you saw him closely with a soft expression paired with a gentle smile, making his dimple make another appearance.

"Hello, I'm Yang Jungwon, your brother's friend." Your eyes almost welled up when you realized that he was making you forget the embarrassing first encounter by redoing it as if you had just met each other.

You softly smiled and took his hand in a handshake. You felt a sudden spark of electricity shroud your body because of the contact.

"I'm Nishimura Y/n, Riki-nii's sister." Jungwon's eyes formed into crescent moons when you accepted his gesture of starting over. Although he already knew a little about you because of your brother, it was still nice to finally meet his friend's sister whom the latter always talked about adorably.

"Nice meeting you, Y/n." He started shaking both of your hands as if sealing a deal, making you giggle.

"Nice meeting you too, Jungwon nii-san."

Chapter Four

You thought that your feelings for Jungwon wouldn't blossom any further, but you were proven wrong when you found yourself researching nutritious foods appropriate for a football player that can boost his energy during practice games, instead of focusing on your homework.

Never in your life did you imagine that there would be a day when it's your turn to give someone a gift to show your appreciation, just like your schoolmates in 6th grade used to do for their crushes—a gesture you often found cringy before.

Yet now, you're going to do it as well.

Football season is just around the corner, making the Nightball Team busier with their practice. Hence, you see this as an opportunity to support Jungwon by providing snacks and bottles of energy drinks anonymously.

You know how intensely athletes practice during the game season, as you've witnessed it to your brother.

To help their bodies keep up with the rigorous training, nutritious foods are very essential.

As you stroll around the convenience store with a basket in hand already full of nutritious foods and energy drinks, a colorful message cards and envelopes caught your eyes.

The intricate design of each card and envelopes make your eyes twinkle in delight.

You've been also a fan of stationery items, developing a fascination for collecting envelopes and colored papers that pave the way for another passion—creating a journal with these elegant items.

If not for manga, the excess in your allowance is spent on stationery items.

As you eye the items, a sudden thought crosses your mind, making your heart beat to a now familiar tune that you are slowly getting used to.

You nibble the side of your cheek, contemplating whether it would be worth it.

You close your eyes, slowly taking deep breaths and gathering the confidence to do it.

Now full of determination, you took the cards and envelopes and proceeded to the counter to check out the items.

Your entire night was spent carefully preparing small packages, filling them with nutritious snacks and energy drinks. Along these, you include heartfelt and motivational notes crafted on small cards that you've intricately designed.

The following morning, you found yourself navigating the empty hallway in an unusual early hour while clutching the gift in your trembling hands, your heart pounding with each step.

Reaching Jungwon's locker, you hesitated for a moment, your mind replaying scenarios of what could happen next.

Would someone appear out of nowhere? Would Jungwon catch a glimpse of you?

With a last scanned around the hallway to make sure no one is around, you took a deep breath, reassuring yourself that the early morning cloak of silence was on your side.

Swiftly, you slipped your gift along with the letter into his locker, your hands moving with a kind of precision that only nervous anticipation could bring.

As you put the gifts gently, you feel a rush of adrenaline, a mixture of satisfaction and nervous energy coursing through your veins.

With the deed done, you retraced your steps, leaving behind the token of your affection. The school began to stir with the arrival of students, and you blended seamlessly into the crowd, keeping your secret hidden behind a casual smile.

You wanted to wait and witness Jungwon's reaction to your gift, but fear taking ahead of you as you pondered the possibility that his response might not align with your expectations.

Ultimately, you chose not to proceed and continued on your way to class.

Later in the afternoon, you found yourself on the same bench you sat, watching the practice game just as you always done. The field was buzzing with energy as the players warmed up, their determination evident in every stride they took.

Amongst them, Jungwon stood out like a star.

As the game began, you found yourself entranced once again by Jungwon's performance. He darted across the field, effortlessly evading opponents with his nimble footwork. His passes were precise and his shots were powerful.

He commanded the field with an air of confidence that made your heart swell with pride.

His performance today was exceptionally good compared to the previous practice games. Not that he wasn't good before—he truly was—but today, it felt like he was in his zone.

Every move he made was so powerful. You couldn't help but wonder if the pressure of the upcoming football season was driving him to new heights.

However, it wasn't just Jungwon's skill that impressed you; it was the pure sheer joy he exude while playing that you always like to see.

His face lit up with a radiant smile every time he made a good play or celebrated a victory. It was clear the football was more than just a game to him; it was a passion that ignited and fueled his determination.

A soft and gentle smile made its way to your face as you held your hands close to your chest, feeling the crazy beat of your heart as you admired Jungwon from afar.

A whistle blew across the field, signaling that the first half of the practice game had just ended, making the players come back to the dugout to take a break. As the players made their way, your eyes only remained and followed Jungwon.

As he talked to one of the players, you saw him reach out for something among the water bottles and energy drinks. He twisted the cup and chugged its contents, making his Adam's apple bob with every gulp. The afternoon sun struck his skin, making it glow like honey and accentuating his chiseled jaw.

You catch your breath in a small gasp, not because of how attractive he looks but because the bottle he is holding is slowly becoming familiar.

It's the energy drink that you brought for him!

You know that it was yours because you made sure that the energy drink that you brought was different from the energy drink that they always drink every day, plus you can see the bright yellow sticker message that contained your motivational pun attached to the bottle!

You suddenly felt like you were not breathing when he noticed the sticker; his furrowed brows made you nervous as he read the message. You almost wanted to leave the field, thinking he didn't like what was written there, when all of a sudden he burst into laughter, making the other players look his way.

His teammates wanted to see what made him laugh, but Jungwon held the bottle close to his chest and refused to let anybody know.

Your cheeks suddenly flamed with redness; you don't know if it was from embarrassment or because of the overwhelming feeling of seeing his positive reaction to your motivational pun.

Jungwon looked at the sticker on the bottle once again and let out a chuckle while shaking his head in amusement. His smile and bright eyes didn't leave until the end of the practice game, making you feel a new sense of fulfillment knowing the small act of affection had reached him.

You guess the "Kick some Asparag-ass

(૭ ｡•̀ ᵕ •́｡ )૭" somehow made his day.

Seeing Jungwon's positive impact of your secret gesture fueled a newfound motivation deep within your soul.

Especially when you saw his soft smile upon discovering the rest of the gift you had left in his locker, a moment for which you had finally summoned the courage to witness his reaction.

Due to this, you can't help but ponder what else you could do—or another motivational pun to put— to bring him happiness and encouragement without revealing your true identity.

With each passing day, you continued to surprise Jungwon with small anonymous gifts, each carefully selected to brighten his practice session and show your support.

Noticing Jungwon excelled in his games and his skills shone even brighter with added encouragement, made your heart swell with pride each time you witnessed his growth, even though he remained unaware of your involvement.

You planned to spend your whole day today coming up with different ideas to keep Jungwon motivated, but since it was Sunday—meaning today was the scheduled release of a new chapter of the manga you were reading—you got distracted and ended up lying down lazily on the couch in the leaving room with an iPad hovering over your face.

You giggled when the supporting character thought that the protagonist was a love child of a known superhero in the story.

As you continued scrolling the pages, you heard the front door open.

Since the iPad completely covered your vision of the door, you didn't see who entered the house; you didn't mind and didn't bother to look who it was and continued reading, thinking it was only your brother since your dog, Bisco, immediately ran to the door with enthusiasm.

"Hey, make me some snacks." The voice of your irritating brother demanded—you guessed it right—it was your brother, which made your eyes immediately roll.

"Make your own," you grumbled, your eyes remaining on the screen.

"I'm going to study," he retorted, earning a scoff from you. 'Study my ass'

You remained unmoved, pretending not to hear him. However, your brother was relentless about getting you to make him snacks, resorting to tickling your foot.

You squirmed and kicked his hands away, still avoiding eye contact, thinking that ignoring him would make him leave you alone.

But the more you resisted, the more persistent your brother became.

Ni-ki decided to take it a step further and removed the socks you were wearing, continuing to tickle your bare foot.

You dramatically squirm around as if you were being possessed, earning a hearty laugh from your brother.

You got up and lodged a smack on your brother's arm when you had enough of his annoyance.

The sound of it resonated through the living room, proving how strong it was. You were ready to give him another one when you noticed another presence in the room.

Your fist hung mid-air, and your body froze as you saw Jungwon smiling at you.

"Hi, Y/n"

You immediately straightened your posture and quickly tucked your messy hair behind your ears.

"H-hello, Jungwon n-nii-san," you stammered while simply trying to fix your clothes, in which you are clad in your usual pajamas with pompompurin designs. You chew the side of your cheek.

Why is it that every time you look at your worst, Jungwon always shows up?

"Nii-san?" Your brother questioned, making you look at him. His brows furrowed like he couldn't believe what he had heard.

"We've been living here in South Korea for 5 years; it should be Oppa now."

Your fist suddenly feels itchy to punch your brother at the moment.

He knows that you're not yet comfortable using those honorifics because you're still adjusting to their culture; you're still slowly trying to fit in.

Your fist has already collided with his arm; if not, your jersey no. 4 is not here.

"O-opp—" You gulp, looking down at your feet, trying your best to find the courage to say it. Wanting to put a good impression in front of the person you are admiring, you will try to say it.

"O-opp—"

"—ah"

"O-op—"

"It's okay, Y/n" You immediately stopped when you heard a reassuring voice. You looked up, and your eyes immediately softened when you saw Jungwon looking at you with gentleness.

"I'm fine with Nii-san; you don't have to force yourself." You felt a warm glow of reassurance spread through your body, thawing the icy grip of fear that had taken hold of you.

"Nah, man. She can say i—" Before your brother could finish his words, Jungwon's fist already collided with Ni-ki's back, playfully smacking his friend.

"Let's have your sister do what makes her comfortable. Respect her decision, dude." Your brother quickly returns the punch to his friend, which only makes the latter laugh.

As Jungwon and Ni-ki were laughing and playfully bickering at each other, you stood there watching as if your world stood still, leaving you with the feeling of a crushing wave of warmth washing over you.

In the quiet corners of your heart, a warm ember began to glow.

It flickered gently at first, timidly reaching out to the cool, untouched spaces within.

Jungwon's gentle smile, the softness of his eyes, and his kindness made the ember grow, its flames dancing in harmony with the newfound rhythm of your heartbeat that you didn't know suddenly changed into something more.

'Uh, oh, you're falling in love'

The fluttering of your heart becomes more frequent and pronounced that every time Jungwon appears in your line of sight, you experience this peculiar feeling.

These little flutters seemed to build into a crescendo, filling your heart with a strange yet amazing feeling.

Every word that Jungwon says to you always shows how pure and kind his soul was, making the beat of your heart grow louder as if announcing to the cosmos the love that is blossoming within you.

Slowly, your heart was no longer fluttering; it was soaring.

'Oh no, you're falling in love'

You had always believed in love because of your parents, but you had never truly understood its power until now.

You realized that love was more than a fleeting connection; it was the awakening of your soul.

It was a feeling that washed over you like a gentle wave, leaving you breathless and craving for more.

As you look at Jungwon, a new, profound, warm sensation spreads through your chest, gradually seeping into every corner of your being.

It was a sensation of love, softening your edges and illuminating your soul.

It was a feeling that found solace in vulnerability and flourished in the light of trust.

'Oh, you're falling in love.'

Chapter Five

The newfound realization made your heart skip a beat and sent a rush of nervous energy through your veins.

You can't believe it, you have fallen in love.

With such a simple word, its complexities were unraveling before you, leaving you both exhilarated and terrified.

At a young age, you already found yourself entangled in a web of emotions that you had never encountered.

It was your first taste of this intoxicating elixir, and you were utterly unprepared for its effects.

With this newfound love came a wave of shyness that seemed to wash over you whenever you were in Jungwon's presence, making you tongue-tied like every word you wanted to say remained locked behind closed lips.

You couldn't even bring yourself to meet his gaze when you brought snacks to your brother's room while they were studying.

As you thought they were both studying.

Because upon handling their snack, you realized that only your brother was engrossed in his studies, while Jungwon was actively helping and guiding him, almost like a dedicated tutor.

This observation lingered in your thoughts, making you seek clarification from your mother about it.

"Oh, Jungwon?" Your mother started "his tutoring your brother on some of his subjects for weeks now." She continued while chopping some vegetables for dinner.

While this information seemed like a casual detail to your mother, for you, it was a revelation that left your eyes widening in shock.

How had you not noticed him doing this earlier, especially considering he had been tutoring your brother in his room for several days now?

What surprised you even more was how he managed to balance this commitment with the intensity of their practice games.

"But why? He's an athlete like Riki-nisan; wouldn't it be exhausting to do both?" Your curiosity compelled you to ask.

The chopping abruptly ceased. Your mother gently set down the knife, her gaze softening as she looked at you.

"You see, Jungwon has been struggling to pay off all of his school expenses—" You saw how the sad smile made its way to your mother's face.

"—despite working part-time, it hasn't been enough. Your brother offered financial assistance, but he always refused. Your brother was determined to help, so he proposed the idea of Jungwon tutoring your brother in subjects he was struggling with," your mother explained, continuing to chop vegetables as you listened attentively.

"That young boy is such a genuine friend to your brother. Despite his financial struggles, he consistently rejects any money from your brother's pocket. If only his mother hadn't fallen ill, he would have also declined your brother's offer."

The weight of the revelation made your heart sink.

While you admired Jungwon for his skills and charm, little did you know about the silent battles he faced. Yet, he remained a compassionate soul willing to endure hardships to support his family.

"So, if your friends are also struggling with their studies, let me know so we can recommend Jungwon to them, okay?" Your mother said with a hopeful smile on her face, also wanting to extend her help to her son's friend.

You nodded and agreed without hesitation, though deep down, a secret plan was forming in your mind.

You were the one who would be getting the tutoring sessions with Jungwon.

If Ni-ki was naturally a sports prodigy, you on the other hand were a naturally gifted student, excelling in all subjects effortlessly.

Despite being smart and not needing any help with your studies, you plan to take on the role of a struggling student to help Jungwon to support him financially.

With that plan, you were more determined to help Jungwon rather than get closer to him.

You were pacing back and forth, your heart pounding with anticipation. It was the day of your tutoring session with the person who only can make your heart do crazy act like this.

When you brought up the topic of needing a tutor during dinner, your parents were taken aback, nearly choking on their food.

It seemed incomprehensible to them that their academically successful daughter, particularly excelling in physics, would require assistance in any subject.

Fortunately, you are gifted an understanding parents who acknowledge that even bright students face challenges. Consequently, they graciously granted your request for a tutor, specifically Jungwon as your tutor in the subject where you usually excel the most—physics.

You will literally rot in hell for lying too much to your parents.

Back in your brother's room—which is the place you have requested to use for your tutor session—your mind swirling with thoughts of how the session would go.

You meticulously organized your study materials, ensuring they were arranged perfectly on your desk. You adjusted your hair, clothes, and everything in an attempt to look decent.

When the knock finally came at the door, your heart felt like leaped into your throat. You took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts, before answering it. There stood Jungwon, clad in a fresh fluffy gray hoodie with a shy smile playing on his lips.

"Hey, Y/n. How are you today?" He casually asks as he enters your brother's room, seemingly unaware of the effect he had on you.

"I-I'm g-good, thank y-you." You cleared your throat, trying to cover your stuttered response. You felt your face immediately flush from embarrassment.

Jungwon smiled gently, sensing your nervousness. "Great! Let's start our lesson then," he said, pulling out a chair for you. "Remember, there's no need to be nervous. We're here to learn together, and I'm here to help."

From his assurance, you felt again the familiar melody in your heart that you can slowly put into a song, and it swelled every time he spoke with kindness.

Whenever you feel embarrassed or in trouble speaking your mind, Jungwon always catches you with soothing words, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. It was as if he knew exactly what to say to make you feel validated and loved.

His kind words seemed to have a power of their own, melting away your doubts and worries.

It wasn't just the words, though. It was the way Jungwon said them, the gentle sincerity in his voice. His words were not empty promises or shallow compliments; they held a genuine warmth that touched your heart.

Each day, his kind words reaffirmed your belief that your heart made the right choice in loving him.

"I hear you were having trouble in advanced physics?" You sheepishly nodded, crossing your fingers under the table, invoking a protective power to mitigate the bad consequences that will come to you for lying too much.

"Well, it's not your fault for finding this subject challenging. Teaching this level of physics in 7th grade is a bit advanced for young minds. I only started learning it last year in the 11th grade," Jungwon said, shaking his head in disappointment. "Our school's curriculum isn't the best, is it?" he added with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows, earning a giggle from you.

He smiled, sensing that you were getting more comfortable, and began to slowly proceed with tutoring you.

As the session went on, Jungwon always been patient with you, eager to make you comfortable around him and create an environment wherein you could truly "learn."

But you've got to admit, the tips he is providing to help you understand the concept better are much easier to grasp than the way your teacher teaches.

As you spent more time with Jungwon, diving into deeper topics week after week, your feelings for him grew stronger. The way he explained things made you admire and like him more.

In those quite study moments, he made the subject matter feel like a beautiful melody, resonating not just in your head but also in your heart.

Falling for Jungwon was like a slow waterfall, this gentle descent into a realm where every drop carried a piece of your heart, cascading softly into the pool of emotions that brought a sense of calmness to your soul.

As the weeks pass, not only your feelings blossom but also your friendship with Jungwon.

Jungwon is an easygoing person, conversations with him flowed like a gentle stream, unhurried and reassuring.

Before you start to study, he will ask about how your day went, and he will also share his with you.

Whenever you take a break from the study session, he will offer an icebreaker, such as playing a little bit of brain games or letting you rumble about the manga you were reading while he listens attentively.

One of the things you always look forward to in your study sessions is his thoughtful gifts, given as a reward every time you ace the study exercises or tests and quizzes in physics.

Sometimes, he surprises you with snacks, sharing his favorite jelly, and there's that one thing you can't forget: gifting you the latest volume of the manga you were reading.

"Since you ace the exam last time," Jungwon declared with a mischievous glint in his eye, "I think my student deserves this reward." The corners of his lips curled into a playful smile, as he reached for his bag and pulled out a paper bag and handed it to you.

Curiosity piqued, you eagerly open the bag to reveal the latest volume of your favorite manga series.

Your eyes immediately widened in surprise, a delightful smile spreading across your face. "Jungwon nii-san, you remembered!" You exclaimed, flipping through the pages with excitement. " I can't believe you got this for me!"

Jungwon softly grinned, his own excitement mirrored in his eyes. "Of course, I remembered. You've been talking about this series non-stop, so I thought you'd appreciate having the next volume"

You couldn't count how many time you have been grateful for Jungwon's kindness, the kindness that always feels so warm and welcoming.

However, as you observed the way he interacted with others, you realized that his kindness and warmth were extended to all.

You're not as special to him as you thought.

You felt a bittersweet pang in your chest, acknowledging that he only saw you as his student, a friend, and nothing more.

Much worse, as his little sister.

In the bustling football stadium, under the warm glow of the stadium lights, you found yourself once again in your usual seat, holding your breath as the football game were in full swing. The players of Nightball team sprinted across the field, their feet grazing the perfectly manicured grass.

Suddenly, your heart skipped a beat as Jungwon miraculously spotted you amidst the crowd.

A wide smile spread across Jungwon's face, and he waved at you with unreserved excitement. Your heart fluttered, surprised that he had noticed your presence among the large supporters. You waved back, returning his infectious smile.

As the game continued, you couldn't help but feel a sense of connection with Jungwon, knowing that after all months of unwavering support for him, he was finally aware of it.

In a brief pause between play, Jungwon jog on your way to quickly thank you for cheering for him, as he talks to you, another talented football player, Jake, approached him, curiosity and amusement evident on is face.

He nudged him and teasingly asked, "Who's this girl you're waving at, man? Do we have a secret fan club now?"

Jungwon simply chuckled, "This is Ni-ki's little sister, Y/n." he look down at you with a softness in his eyes as he gently patted your head, "She's like my little sister too."

You felt a pang in your chest as disappointment washed over you, slowly realizing your position in Jungwon's life.

While your heart crazily beat of full affection for him, his was platonically calm for you.

Despite all of that, you swallowed the hurtful truth and softly smiled, accepting the role of being his only little sister.

From then on, you made a choice to embrace the only friendship you have with Jungwon without demanding more.

You continue to fill the pages of your heart with cherished moments, etching them with love and gratitude.

With each passing day, you learn the true essence of selflessness and acceptance.

Despite the unrequited love that lingered in the depths of your soul, you found solace in the knowledge that the friendship you shared with Jungwon was a treasure you could forever hold dear.

Although you acknowledge already the fact that your relationship with Jungwon will only stay as friends, it didn't stop you to continue sending him gifts and letters still anonymously.

You were happily skipping your way through the school hallway as the morning sun shone brightly, clutching yet again a beautifully wrapped gift along with a heartfelt letter of encouragement for his upcoming football game, and also discreetly thanking him for showing kindness and his help in tutoring you.

But as you approached Jungwon's locker, you noticed him standing there with his group of friends.

Startled, you quickly ducked behind a nearby row of lockers.

Seeing him still engrossed in conversation with his friends and seems like they have no plans to leave the lockers at any moment, you decided to retreat and come back later when they were gone.

With a small and hopeful smile, you turned around and began walking away. But just as you were about to go to your class, something caught your attention.

"Man, you remember the gift that Jungwon received last Friday?" an unfamiliar voice of a boy started, piquing your interest, especially since you knew you had gifted Jungwon that day.

"The design looks so damn childish like it was made by an elementary schooler for their art project." The boy snickered, "And all of the things, a freaking garden design mug as a gift?" he mockingly remarked with a chuckle, causing the others to burst into laughter.

You felt like someone poured a bucket of ice-cold water over your head when you overheard their conversations. It felt as though an icy hand wrapped itself around your heart, squeezing it with an unbearable heaviness.

You in fact, gifted him a mug with a garden design, thinking he will like it because it reminds you of him and his name upon seeing it on the store.

With tears slowly well up in your eyes, you look down at your gift, which is wrapped in Tamama design gift wrappers with a cute bow ribbon.

Well, maybe they were right, your choice of gifts was childish.

But you had put so much thought and effort into those gifts, believing that Jungwon would appreciate them. However, it seemed like your gesture had become the subject of ridicule.

You felt as if the world crumbling around you, your heart sinking even deeper as if it had shattered into countless fragments. The thought that Jungwon might be also laughing at your "childish" designs only added to the weight of despair.

Unable to face the humiliation, you quickly turned in your heels and retreated, your footsteps echoing the emptiness in your heart.

Unbeknownst to you, Jungwon, in fact, stood in silence, his usual smile faltered, a hint of offense flickering in his eyes.

"Hey, guys," he spoke up, his voice filled with a strength his friends never heard before. "That gift is special to me. It's different, sure, but it's unique. The person who gifted it to me probably has a reason for choosing a mug, and I appreciate it. It's the thought behind it that counts. So, please, show some respect."

His friends fell silent, stunned by the defense he had just given. Jungwon understood that his friends might not comprehend the deeper meaning behind someone's gift, but he couldn't let them belittle their efforts, especially since how those gifts consistently brightened his day.

You who are still unaware of Jungwon's defense, spent the rest of your day lost in your gloomy thoughts. Your heartache enveloped you like a tight cage, leaving you feeling isolated and alone.

You replayed the scene in your mind over and over, the sting of humiliation and embarrassment refused to subside.

You don't know how you will face Jungwon after all those words.

The idea of facing him, of looking into his eyes and pretending to be casual while those words in the back of your head kept stabbing you like a broken record was unbearable.

As you grappled with your own emotions, the glow of your phone screen caught your attention, announcing the arrival of a new message.

'Hi, Y/n! I might be a little bit late for our study session because of a team meeting ╥ ╥ , but I'll make sure to be there before 6:30 pm so we can have more time to study!'

'As an apology, I'll be bringing snacks~~'

The message from Jungwon illuminated your phone screen, and a mixture of conflicting emotions surged through you.

On the surface, the excitement of an incoming study session and the promise of snacks brought a fleeting smile to your face. However, deep within, a pang of heartache tugged at your insides.

The knot in your stomach tightened, and a lump formed in your throat. Jungwon's innocence, and his kindness, clashed violently with the echoes of humiliation and embarrassment that still pound within you.

The vivid memories of his friends' mockery haunted you, turning the joyous act of giving into a painful reminder of vulnerability.

With a heavy heart, you fabricated an excuse about feeling unwell and unable to attend the tutoring session that day.

It was a lie, one that marked the beginning of a pattern.

The tutor sessions turned into missed opportunities to see him, and the football games became distant scene you chose to avoid.

Jungwon, puzzled by your sudden change in behavior, continued to inquire about your well-being.

Each message from him tugged at your heart, but the walls you created held firm.

His concern was met with vague responses, masking the turmoil within you. The more he reached out, the deeper you delved into your cocoon of self-inflicted solitude.

The peak of this emotional turmoil came when Jungwon sensing your distance.

"Are you okay, Y/n?"

"Is there something wrong?"

"Are you mad at me?"

The lies you spun become more elaborate, the excuses more intricate. You assured him that everything is fine and your not mad at him, that you were just busy, that life had taken unexpected turns.

Jungwon, the patient soul he was, accepted your explanations with a grace that only deepened the ache in your chest.

When he extended an invitation to his high school graduation ceremony, offering you a ticket and a chance to be part of his celebration, you hesitated.

The battle within you raged—the desire to reconnect, to salvage what was left, clashed with the fear of facing the unspoken truths.

In the end, you declined, citing other commitments and responsibilities that seemed to multiply in your made-up reality.

You both slowly grew apart, especially as he moved to another city to pursue his dreams at a different university.

It was a bittersweet decision but for now, you resigned yourself to the knowledge that some chapters must end before new ones can begin.

And though your story with Jungwon may have concluded on a sour note, you refused to close the book entirely, holding on to the faint glimmer of hope that perhaps, someday, your path would cross once more.

275 notes · View notes

skelly-words · 8 months ago

Note

Hey! If cool I was wondering if you could write tentacle smut. I’m not too sure on the plot but wanted reader to be very much in some sort of public setting with loads of people just watching as she gets railed by a tentacle. The kinks I wanted to ask if they could be in there is Voyourism (public sex), public nudity, squirting and/ watersports and overstimulation.

If not that is totally okay! I just wanted to ask :) and am exited to see what you come up with if your comfortable with writing this

okay cool so....

Not proofread, tags in the ask + spit a lil bit, ass eating, idk futa shenanigans, ahhhh milk (i kinda scared myself w/ this at the end)

My brain immediately went to big networking conventions that businesses have where the important people from the different corporate branches come together to drink, schmooze, and brag about sales numbers to each other.

Your boss asks you to come with her to help with the demonstration. The travel expenses and hotel costs are all covered, so you agree to spend the weekend on Wall Street with her.

I hate this, but there's the slightest bit of lore, so i ECOURAGE you to read the other parts first -> masterlist

MINORS DNI, stay away 18+ only

The presentation room of the hotel caters to corporate mixers like this. Circular dinner tables decorated with charcuterie fill out the hall. Your knee bounces nervously as people begin to file in. Saturday had been boring, spent bumming around the all-inclusive spa while your boss attended other company presentations not too dissimilar from this one.

"Relax." Your boss whispers. She sits in the squeaky folding chair beside you. Her hand lands comfortably on your thigh, stilling your knee with her warm touch. "All you have to do is bend over the podium."

You nod and try to emulate her flippant attitude. The bounce returns to your knee anyway because nerves are impossible to hide. The minutes slip by as people settle into their seats. The dimming lights act as a cue to hush the small talk and side conversations.

“Ready?” She gives your thigh a heady squeeze.

“Yea, ‘m ready,” you mumble.

Her gait is steady and comfortable up to the front of the room, and you trail behind in the shelter of her shadow. You smiled unsteadily at the sea of unfamiliar faces. Your boss tapped her knuckles on the podium, clearing her throat to get the rooms attention.

“Thank you all for coming,” she begins. “My branch is testing a few new methods of increasing productivity today. It’s all based on the same principle, ‘a happy mind is profitable one.’

“Of course, we’ll begin with the demonstration, just to prove how much it’ll help you focus on the rest of the presentation.”

An interested hum sweeps through the crowd as she leads you around the front of the podium. You aren’t wearing panties, only a skirt, which immediately becomes apparent as she lifts your waist up to the podium. The sturdy wooden surface slopes slightly up toward the room, propped up for dozens of eyes ogle your bare skin.

The position makes blood rush to your head, almost dizzy from the heavy heartbeat in your ears. Your skin feels hot and sensitive. The skirt tickles, sliding down the gentle slope of your back. You wonder if they can see how wet you are, cunt aching from all the attention.

The speech sounds so far away, like all your senses are dulling to make way for the electricity running beneath your skin. From the corner of your eye, you see a couple workers wheel three tanks up to the front of the podium.

The terrariums are large and damp, too fogged up from humidity to see anything through the glass. They're pushed into a neat line, starting at your side and progressing to the front of the stage in single file. The tank closest to you is the smallest. It's the only one you can properly look into because the creatures have suctioned themselves to the wet panes. Their round bodies flatten into mounds on the glass, little mouths busily opening and closing. You watch them, mindlessly observing them inch in little circles, around and round, maybe spirals if you spent enough time staring. You shiver, imagining the pattern it could suck into your skin. From your position now, you wonder if you look anything like that mouth on the glass to that polite crowd of people.

You feel a warm hand skim over your ass, inviting your neatly pleated skirt to drape over your back completely. The gauzy brown fabric went well with your blouse, and you remember packing it for this conference a week in advance. It feels silly now, to think what you're wearing matters when it's really the demonstration that's important.

The first tank slides open with a squeak, and your boss pulls a writhing blue tentacle out with a cloud of steam following it. You can barely see what's happening in your peripheral vision and only when you turn your head to the side. She wastes no time at all, taking the companies limited resources into account, the conference room was only reserved for an hour. Her other hand traces up and down your back, nails first, to scratch gently through the layers of fabric.

"You're doing great, hun." She whispers the reassurance into your ear, low and husky so only you can hear it. In one motion, she presses the end of the tentacle into your butt. It's bigger than what you had at home, which is what you prepped for. Her hand flattens to soothing circles when the pain comes through in your groans. You quiet to a whimper as the thing flails, twisting to orient itself inside you. It still hurt, but you were adjusting quickly to the pressure in your ass as it slithers down to find your pussy.

Now, no matter how you turn, you can't see what's going on. The suckers drag against you, that much is easy to discern from the sense of touch. The rest of your senses besides that have gone totally useless, so you watch the hypnotic pattern that the specimens in the last tank trace in the condensation.

The blue tentacle pushes into you. It's fat, thick and showy so the people in the back can see. Your eyes might be crossing from the way it slowly stretches you out. A shiny blue slime drips from every pore, sucker, and gland on the thing, making you squish obscenely from every movement. In. Out. In. Out. And your boss is still talking, you can even see the slides she flicks through when your eyes roll back, but it all sounds like white noise as the monstrous size shoves into your cunt, slipping out to momentarily attach an oozing sucker to your clit. Then it squirms right back into your hole, so slick that it runs down the inside of your thighs.

It's hopeless to imagine paying attention to anything else.

"But that's when we ran into the issue of hygiene. Clearly, this doesn't fit corporate dress-code."

That cuts through your thoughts, followed by light chuckles. The second tank slides open with a thunk, and you don't have to crane as much to see the pink tentacle calmy wrap around her arm.

"Oh, f-fuck," you finally make a sound audible over the disgusting squelch of that blue monster. She's trying to press the thick bulb at the end of the pink one into you, leaning real close, almost cheek to cheek as she forces it further past your rim. A glob of spit falls from her lips, you groan as she smears it around with her tongue.

"Just relax for me." And you're not even sure she's talking to you in that raspy tone. The hand on your back has inched lower to keep you pinned in place, and it's making you sore from how the podium’s edge digs into your hips.

Your sounds fall freely now, turning to whines as she licks you to ease the stretch. The hand on your back lightens up as the fat plug slides into place alongside the blue one. An affectionate smack lands on your ass, rubbing her warm palm over the spot as she watches the pink tentacle unfurl and flatten.

You can't see it, only whine as the weight shifts and adjusts inside you. The blue tentacle stops moving as if to behave and play nice with a friend. The gummy feelers attach as the pink tentacle latches on. It cups your swollen pussy, cleaning up the appearance quite nicely to the audience's disappointment. But your moans grow louder, echoing to let you know the sound made it to the back of the room. The little fingerlings lining the pink tentacles interior are so active. They pinch at your clit, making it slip between the soft jelly limbs while the others started playing with the rest of you.

"...And when properly stimulated, this specimen can be prompted to release its reproductive material on command." That faint comment reminds you of the eggs.

Your gasp is mixed between startled and concerned when her hand begins to brush the tentacle wrapped around your crotch. Being stuffed with the twitching blue tentacle makes you wonder where all the slimy eggs will go.

At her light brushes, the tendrils start to pull you apart. They slip inside you, just barely, enough to make your legs start to shake. You can feel them start to pour in as her thumb pushes down, squeezing out the soft spawn like horrific toothpaste as she slides the digit up from the base.

The blue tentacle comes back to life now, helping push the pink jelly into your poor pussy. You can feel the tiny limbs scoop and blue suckers fuck the eggs up against your sore cervix. And still, nobody can see. Your boss stands over you. Her hand trails between your thighs, tapping in the drying slick that's become tacky. She tugs at the tip of the tentacle, pinching firmly at the pink appendage and peeling it back.

Not all the eggs made it inside, rolling down your thighs as the mess is exposed. She's slow with her reveal, trailing her fingers through the juices to try the combination. You've gotten quieter, trying to keep your whimpers silent now that it's easier to hear. She starts to pull at the plug, and you have to bite your lip to keep it down. It doesn't wanna come out of your ass, still pulsing from so recently releasing eggs. Still, she tugs, making you squirm and clench your cunt. You've been on the edge for so long, and feeling the stretch to your rim makes your thighs squeeze together. They can barely shut to rub around your throbbing clit.

"I might as well introduce the last one then." She gives up on freeing the pink tentacle with a frustrated sigh and finally steps behind the podium to reach the tank in your eyeline. "They fit perfectly under your bra, so we'll both be demonstrating."

Your eyes follow her hand, from the lid, to inside the tank, to the buttons on her shirt. You strain to look up at her because she's standing so close, watching with jealousy as that thing sucks on her nipple. Her breasts look bigger too, spilling from her bra when she tries to squish them back into her shirt. A glance back down makes you blush. A bulge starts to bubble from her pencil skirt. It wouldn't be very noticeable if it wasn't a few inches from your nose.

"My turn?" You look up at her from between watery lashes, bending to smiling crescents when she nods. She lifts your chest just enough from the podium to let the green lump latch onto you. It doesn't seem to mind being squashed against the wood when she lowers you back down. They feel good, sucking at your breasts in a perfectly alternating rhythm. You start to feel weird, hotter as your tits get sore. The mouths pinch a little, not enough to hurt, barely more than a warning bite. You groan, the throbbing in your ruined pussy is getting worse. It makes you imagine what your boss is feeling. The pre dripping into her underwear. You probably could take her cock too if she asked you. She's still giving a presentation, talking through a slide as the buttons on her dress shirt strain. Her hand slips back to your butt, where it was yanking the bigger plug out of you.

She braces the opposite hand on your asscheek, rocking the pink tentacle back and forth to coax it out. You can barely hold sound back, dissolving into pitchy breaths when the fat blue fucker decides to start up again. It starts slow, but that pace doesn't last. After packing you with eggs, it's eager to let its cum out. Every loud thrust makes the eggs probe deeper. You can feel it in your tummy, pressed flat to the uncomfortably hard podium.

Your sensitive nipples pulse in time with the relentless suckers. You can't even care to be surprised as they spurt milk, moaning instead from the toy twisting in your ass.

The pink tentacle finally slips out of you, put back in its tank where it belongs. But you're sore, hole left gaping for the blue one to fill in as it swells. It gets bigger in your pussy too, larger with each beat. Even as she talks, her fingers can't stop playing with you, either pinching at your skin or dragging a digit through your slit. Her microphone is ther only thing keeping her intelligible over your cries, strung out from the pleasure.

Her fingers swirl around your clit, so sensitive. The touch isn't any more than light nibbles on your chest, but it makes you gasp and jump against her hand. You start to cum when she twists harder. The moans inside you spill out in one cry as you squirt. The pinch to your clit makes you spurt all over the front of her clothes.

She gasps in disgust and yanks you off the podium. The flooring is carpet, soft enough for your sore ass when you slump against the sturdy wood.

Your boss brushes off the interruption like nothing, simply indicating the conclusion of the demonstration as the slides flick to a new segment. She steps carefully between your legs when walking back to her place behind the podium.

The front of your blouse is halfway unbuttoned, however much was needed to get those creatures on, and now you notice how swollen they made your tits. You whine as the blue thing keeps moving between your thighs. There's more leverage at this angle and you don't know if you should moan or cry. In a few stunted thrusts, cum starts to fill you up, thick ropes of it that still somehow leak out from between all the eggs and the fat tentacle.

The pretty blue sheen coats your inner-thighs and the conference room floor. Something’s still wrong though. The ache between your legs isn't gone, not completely no matter how much your sore body begs to stop. It's the milk, or the hormones that come with it asking for just a little more. The demonstration portion is over. You're done, everyone's supposed to be focused on the woman speaking.

You slip a hand to your clit, circling the bud with shaking fingers. Just one more, and you'll be fine. Your boss doesn't even notice the room's eyes drifting lower. The blue tentacle indulges you, lazily moving in your cunny along with a few pumps of its warm seed. You can look at the lump it makes in your stomach from this angle.

This time, the orgasm builds fast and you have to muffle soft pants against your hand as you cum. Your poor pussy hurts, but you still need another and the tight circles on your clit don't let up.

There can't be that much more time before the hour is up and she has to get these things off you. Yet, your wrist is getting sore and weak dribbles of piss leak out of you at each peak. You notice people in the crowd hiding their arousal, and that somehow makes your crazy mind even hornier. Your abused clitty gives a heartbeat to your thumb each time someone palms their crotch or crosses their legs, still trying to be politely discreet.

The lights brighten as the presentation ends and a few odd bursts of scattered applause break out at a few tables. You still don't have the decency to leave your needy cunt alone, finally closing your legs around the blue tendril still curled up inside you as the people leave the room to pick a brochure up.

I had another anon ask abt going to find a new tentacle with the coworker from pt.2, but I kinda decided they were aliens (pink and blue both would normally use a host for mating and the suckers kinda do the same thing but for food, ig they're all just parasites sorry if that's gross), so i added a new variety into this one for you <3

A/N- how'd she do that? i would've gone ngh~ *squish* IMMEDIATLY, sry can you tell idk anything about an office job? oh well, stfu and enjoy the smut then (this is way over the top 😭) Also why did i give myself the displeasure of two (2) unnamed characters, give me names for Ms. boss or i'll start adding y/n (a threat)

#skel replies sometimes #skel writes tentacles #tentacle smut #tentacular #nsft tentacles #tentacles #monster fucker #terato #teratophillia

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neteyamsilly · 2 years ago

Text

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 3

summary ;; Sullys stick together. You learn the hard way what happens when you don't. PART 2 | PART 4 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; descriptions of blood and violence incoming, beware! shout out to the ppl who predicted the stuff in this chapter LMAO so um... i couldnt tag everybody who asked when i said i would... there's apparently a limit to how many people you can tag. please forgive me 😭 im not taking any tagging requests anymore since i cant do it. so sorry about that,,,, seriously also, thank you so much for 1160 followers! i still cant fucking believe it... daddy issues solidarity 🤙🏻🤙🏻

“Hi there Corporal, you hear me? Yeah, I know you do. As much as I’m charmed by the fatherly love I could give you a big old sloppy wet kiss, we have unfinished business.”

Rain covered the rustling of clothes and the click-clacks of readjusted weapons as concentrated silence hung in the air, thick and heavy like the morning mist swallowing up the forest.

No answer.

What face could your parents be making right now? Heartbeat in your ears, you tried to hide your shame by looking down, but a jerk on your queue set you straight. the avatar holding you digging his gun sharper in your neck.

“What, cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” The leader’s stare found yours. “Let me give you a quick remedy.”

They’d linked your device into another for the sound to be relayed outside and the voice detection range could be wider, in other words, they wanted your father to hear what was happening to you. Your braid was yanked as if the one pulling it wanted to snap it right off your skull, no amount of training could stop the scream torn out of you — all the show just for him.

The line was deadly still, save for some rustling, crackling static that you could have easily mistaken for hissing.

A ghost of a smile shadowed the man’s face, he extended his rifle to tip your chin up. “Guess we’re gonna have to be louder than that to wake daddy up sweetheart.”

“Stop!” Father yelled, the unexpected timing of it made you jump. That earned him a group chuckle from the avatars around you. “Stop.”

He talked. He didn’t leave you to fend for yourself in this. Thank Eywa!

“That was fast,” the captor behind you said.

“Thought you’d have forgotten English by now, playing native.”

“...Quaritch?”

Quaritch. That awful, awful man from the stories your mother killed? Spider’s father? But… But he was dead. How could sky people know how to cheat death?

“In the flesh.”

Father’s voice wavered, you’d think he was scared if you didn’t know any better. “That’s impossible.”

“Back from the grave just for you, Jake.”

“Then I’ll just have to put you right back where you belong.”

The squad of avatars openly laughed at that, boisterous, confident, arrogant.

This was Toruk Makto they were openly mocking. None of them would last for one minute in front of him and yet—

“Quite the teary lovers reunion we’re havin’ here, but you got busy while I was gone, huh?” He looked down at you again, yellow eyes filled with mirth. “I have this tiny bird here we plucked right out of the air. Imagine my surprise to learn she’s yours. Is this the only one, or you got yourself a litter now?”

Silence again.

“What do you want?”

“Straight to the point as always.” The smug smile momentarily twitched into an unamused, withheld resentment. This man was nearing the end of his capacity to keep taunting. “I don’t think I’ll tell yet. You know I love to be a tease.”

Your ears rotated upwards in treacherous hope at your father's next words. “If you touch one hair on my daughter’s head I swear to god—”

“You exchanged your god for this shithole, Jake. Let’s not kid ourselves now.” Any hint of playing around was gone, now, eyes fixated on something on the ground ahead. “Your daughter will be my guest for a while. Think of it as summer vacation. Don’t worry, unlike the Na’vi, we’re very hospitable.” His thumb brushed over a button. “Until next time.”

“Fucking bastard—”

With one beep, the call was over. Quaritch was touching the band around his neck this time. “Iron Sky, Blue on Actual. We are standing by for extract, over.”

You began to tussle against the avatar behind your back. “No! No! Let me go!”

“Be advised. We're bringing in a high value prisoner.”

“Dad’s really gonna flay her alive this time, I can’t wait.” Lo’ak, positioned just behind the flap of the tent to not be seen from the outside as he peeked with one eyeball just in case, was watching his parents vehemently yell at each other in whispers that started out loud, but got hushed probably to not reach him and his siblings. Aggressive limb gestures were flying in the air, and at one point, his mom had tried to run off somewhere and was forcefully stopped.

Dad was currently pacing around like a wild animal with one hand permanently stuck rubbing his face, and mom turned away from him, holding her forehead. “They’re really going at it, huh?

Kiri was not amused with his insistence to breach their privacy. “What’s so interesting about watching this kind of thing?”

“Catharsis?” He remarked in English, feeling sophisticated. “You remember Spider talking about it? Purification and emotional cleansing through relief that you’re not going through the horrible tragedy, the character on stage is.”

“You’re normally so dumb.” Lo’ak bore his fangs at her matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Your brain only comes back on when it’s about chaos.”

“I’m petty, and what about it?” A tilt of his head to dare Kiri to ask for her point, then his attention was thwarted by an incomprehensible cry from his mother. She was pushing dad from his arms, furious like Lo’ak had never seen before as the upset man tried to hold her more. “Look at mom and dad breathing fire at each other! You think they’re discussing how to punish her?”

“Stop spying already skxawng, mom will be angry if she sees you. We’re supposed to be in bed.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to listen here!” His ears were tilting at every angle to make out any words that reached to him as nothing but a cluster of broken sounds. “Why did they have to go far?”

“Because they wanted to be away from peeping toms like you?”

“And you’re still here too, so?” Lo’ak gave his sister a meaningful look. “I know you wanna see too.”

“Ugh!” Kiri shoved out her tongue at him, eyes dead. “And it’s not funny, by the way! They are fighting. Stop being happy about it.”

He knew they were fighting about his older sister, and that she’d get all the heat and fallout from it the moment she was back. Lo’ak’s head was full of what he could get out of it, or what to ask her for in return for helping her out in her detention. So satisfying to be the sibling who wasn’t in trouble. He should do it more, actually. “It is funny when it’s not about me.”

“You’re sick for taking joy in another’s suffering.”

“Oh, I’m doomed, then.” Kiri took whatever fat was on his thin arm between her thumb and forefinger, and twisted. Lo’ak had to blink away the tears that rushed to his eyes, snatching his limb away from the displeased girl and pushing her away in return — he was annoyed at how much that hurt, why was that so damaging for no reason? “Yeouch! What the hell?”

“Will it kill you to practice mindfulness once in a while?”

He raised his voice’s pitch to mock the wobbly, ear-scratching whine of yours, and exaggerated his body movements to match, too. “I hate you!”

“Gross.” She tried to shove him, he caught her hands in the air, pushing her back and getting the spiteful annoyance of his sister as a result. “Dad was actually hurt by that.” Lo’ak’s eyes could roll down the hills by themselves the way that sounded, but Kiri, as always, was bothered so inexplicably. “I don’t like this. I have a bad feeling.”

That bad feeling was the herald of dad’s upcoming cranky ill-temper and what would follow after you inevitably had to come crawling back home with tail between your legs, Neteyam dragging you from the scruff of your neck. Lo’ak was refusing to sleep so he could enjoy the fight.

“Me personally, am over the moon, ikran duty is so gonna be off my hands. For months.” He halted at the idea that just went off in his head, tail swishing with the hype. “I wanna tell Spider. I’ll go get him.”

“Absolutely not. You sneak off now and they’ll laser-focus all the anger on you!” Kiri was pointing a warning hand at him, but slowly lowered it, one corner of her mouth twitching up. She was holding back amusement. “Hey, you know what? Nevermind, you can go. I want you to go. I have to see this.”

“Ha-ha.” Lo’ak’s tail stuttered, losing enthusiasm. “Attempted murder, much?”

“Guys, what’s going on…”

Upon the unexpected voice that wobbled its way into their conversation, they both looked down to see Tuk gripping her weaved blanket with one hand and dragging it on the floor as she made her way to them, the other rubbing her eyes one by one so sleep dripping from them would fly away.

“See, you woke her up! What do we do now?”

“You woke her up by yelling, why is it my fault now?”

“I didn’t, you—”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did n—”

“Guys…” Tuk pulled on Kiri’s hand, and the foreign object she was clutching the whole time distracted Lo’ak. It must have dug into the older one’s skin that she carefully picked it up to inspect. The ear pieces they took off before they went to sleep. This one was Kiri’s. “Neteyam’s calling. You didn’t hear…”

Grinning, Lo’ak snatched it up and skipped backwards and put it in his own ear, ignoring Kiri’s hushed yells to give it back now and the groans about ruining it with his stinky, cheesy earwax. He had to keep bouncing around, the girl was chasing him around the tent. “Bro! Tell her she’s sooo dead. Dad’s literally keeping guard in front of the tent—”

“Lo’ak, quit it.” Neteyam’s tremulous answer was harsh. Lo’ak’s smile wavered as he dodged Kiri’s arm and jumped over discarded cups on the floor, knocking over wooden spoons. “I need you to tell me what’s happening over there.”

“Aw, baby’s so scared to come back she needs to make a game plan first?” He laughed, slapping Kiri’s hands away. “I’ll only tell if she gives back my karambit knife.”

His older brother sighed, a bit too exasperated.

“Yeah, I’m not letting that one go and I’m also making it your problem—”

“Lo’ak, she isn’t here.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”

“She isn’t here. I couldn’t find her.” Kiri bumped into him, unable to stop herself at the right time to hit the brakes due to how abruptly Lo’ak had stilled. They’d almost tumbled over. “Dad told me to wait until he contacts her and I’ve been waiting for minutes. Now tell me what’s going on over there.”

“Bro, you’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious, skxawng!”

He turned to Kiri in disgusted discomfort, who had damn-near glued her own ear to his to hear better. “Forget months, I’ll be free for years. Dad’s not gonna let her take one step off the camp anymore.”

The girl would stomp her foot if she was a couple years younger. “What’s this about?”

And Neteyam would shake Lo’ak from the neck for ignoring him this long while he was fussing. “Tell me already you—!”

“They’re having a fight bro.” He leaned better to peep outside the tent. “Yeah.”

“She came back? Why didn’t you tell me?”

It was uncommon for Neteyam to completely disregard the previous input he’d been given. Lo’ak didn’t understand this level of anxiety. “Are you having a brain fart? Would we be having this conversation if she was here? It’s mom and dad who are fighting.”

It wasn’t that serious — on the contrary, his sister was quite simple to understand. She didn’t want to be found and had changed her place of hiding. End of story. The golden boy’s worrywart nature was keeping him from reasoning.

“Don’t be a smartass.” Lo’ak practically felt Neteyam’s want to land a loud smack on his back. “Were they only able to reach her, then? Is that why they’re fighting?”

“You’re asking me?—”

The older boy began to grumble under his breath. “This is why I called Kiri.”

Said girl’s ears perked up over picking her name from the static-surrounded line. Lo’ak snorted. “Ouch, bro.”

Kiri shook him from the elbow. “Me? What about me?”

“Great title for your autobiography.”

Kiri raised her arms to give him a beating and Lo’ak was already bolting away from anywhere near her vicinity. The siblings didn’t even take notice of the line with Neteyam going dark as they focused on their own play-scuffle for a while.

Until Lo’ak bumped into someone.

It wasn’t Tuk.

Shoulders pulled into himself, he turned around torturously freaked out to find dad standing there like a ghost, his tactical vest packed to the brim and gun hanging from his back the way they wore their bows.

The blue of his skin had faded into an ashier tone, amber eyes wide and bloodshot, the veins on the normally put together Olo’eyktan’s forehead were bulging, even a socially clueless person would pick up something was seriously wrong. He commanded cold authority of the battlefield simply by the way he stood, immediately triggering Lo’ak into soldier mode.

He took a few steps back, chin hanging low at the lightless, unblinking stare his father pushed down on him. “Sir.”

All the sleepiness that had Tuk unresponsive and nodding off through Lo’ak and Kiri’s push-and-pull was knocked out of her at the sight, she was now unnerved and frightened. “Dad?”

The man’s intensity was somehow eased by his youngest’s reaction, but he held back from taking her in his arms like he normally would to comfort her, didn’t even care to remark on how they were supposed to be sleeping — how they’d woken their little sister up, instead focusing on Lo’ak. “I want you all to listen well. Your mother and I are heading out for a minute and your grandmother will be with you soon — Neteyam is Oscar-Mike to come back here. Stay put and don’t go anywhere, understand?” His finger pointed accusingly at him. “Don’t cause trouble. Looking at you boy, what I’m saying here is Marine proof. I’m at the end of my wits here, don’t even think about slipping a tail out of this tent.”

The potent severity of whatever the hell was making him this agitated to the point of a voice so hoarse it was unrecognizable got the wheels in Lo’ak’s head whirring. “What’s happening, dad?”

“One child!” The thundering shout came down on him with the force of a falling mountain, making Lo’ak jump out of his skin. “I need one child of mine to listen to me without asking any questions today!” Dad’s voice broke when Tuk whined, he shut his eyes as if he was in physical pain, and flexed his jaw, shaking his head and pulling the girl in from her shoulders to soothe her. Still no direct hugging. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Lo’ak said immediately, distraught by the over-the-top reaction, hands unknowingly curling into fists by his sides. Whenever that sky people word ‘Jesus’ slipped from dad not having any control between the border of his two languages, the boy knew it was demanding gravitas. “I heard you CFB.”

“Good.” He thinned his lips. “Kiri, please.”

Lo’ak frowned at dad basically asking for her to play her brother’s keeper in Neteyam’s absence in two simple words.

She nodded. “I know dad.”

He caught a glimpse of his mother running in the distance, her father’s bow in her hand.

Just what was happening? What had you done?

Eywa, it had to be sky people.

Dad saw the realization in his face. “Stay,” he emphasized, one final time before he was also gone with the wind.

Lo’ak wouldn’t have obeyed if it wasn’t for his grandmother arriving just in time, keeping them busy with a story about the arrival of a wounded ikran with no rider.

You realized the gunshot wound puncturing your upper abdomen was there the whole time when the avatars put first aid and later slapped a rectangular sky people bandage on it that helped clotting or whatever it was called, the pain simply not being there had played a big factor in it with the body running on pure adrenaline.

(Crouching close to you, Quaritch had bragged, “We aren’t so bad after all, huh, sweetheart? It’s called civilization. Your daddy ever taught you about that?”

Civilization, your ass. They needed you. There was nothing well-meaning about what they were doing.

And the nickname had ticked you off, sullying the good memories of father, your head slammed into his nose in full power after a hiss.

“Now my daddy taught me that!” you spat in English as other avatars had tackled you. The man claiming to be Quaritch was smiling as he wiped away the blood trickling down his nose.

What was the point in trying to patch you up if they were going to do this, then?)

You were now a part of an elaborate trap to lure your father in. Bait. The worst position to be in. This was the kind of trouble Lo’ak would get himself in. It was too late to go back now, the mess you’d gotten yourself into had made itself known.

Think, think! How could you get out of this?

Within the unsleeping forest’s nightly noises chirping all around you, a specific call in the air halted your train of thought.

It was mom.

Your parents were here. But how? How did they know where you were, exactly? Dread and expectation pooled in your heart, coexisting in a nauseating mix.

Father must be thinking that you already caused so much trouble, they couldn’t know you were also hurt, you’d never hear the end of it.

But there was no time to think, the pain you should have been feeling was ebbing its way into your body, and she was calling in the night to inform you to get ready.

All hell broke loose when the man who held you tight from your queue was shot right from the back of his head with an arrow, collapsing right on top of you.

You couldn’t get away in time to not be crushed by his dead body and promptly got squished between the mossy soil and him, his gun was hurting you, the wound on your stomach getting in the way of you using your core to push the body off.

How many minutes had passed with you struggling to get him off as a hurricane of bullets roared, you didn’t know (it hurt, pain was climbing towards the threshold) — mom was able to break free from the weight of a whole AMP suit, as you’d heard as a child, a Na’vi was naturally strong, but you couldn’t even crawl out. Panic was a rope tightening around your ribcage as your breathing picked up

All of a sudden, the weight was gone, and the only remaining thing from it was the big gun left from the avatar you found yourself hugging for dear life, eyes wide as saucers. Before you could see whoever had done that, you got hoisted up right back on your feet and tried to run, only to be held tighter and pulled behind the trunk of a tree.

“Hey, it’s me, it’s me!” Clumsy, overwrought hands were cupping your cheeks and — and oh, it was your father.

You didn’t know whether to be afraid or cry from happiness.

Once he was sure you registered it was him by staring intently in your eyes with that edge of the softness you’d missed so much, his hold shifted to your neck and around your shoulders, and he gave you a look-over, checking for any wounds. Too bad what he was searching for was behind the gun you were holding. “Are you hurt?” He shook you when you were too stunned to answer. “Are you hurt at all?”

“No,” you shook your head automatically, it was weak against the explosions of bullets raining down all around you, but father had picked it up regardless, only focusing on you for the moment.

In the darkness, nobody could see the blood running down your body, that bandage had come out at one point.

“On my mark, we’re gonna run, okay?” He nodded to you, tomahawk axe in hand coated in a dark substance, commanding your full attention. “Follow me. Ready? Ready?”

You weren’t ready at all, stomach feeling like it was being stabbed at every heartbeat, but you couldn’t tell him that.

Instead, you ran like hell, moored by father’s taut clutch on your forearm pulling you forward to match his incredible speed dodging roots, bushes and branches.

Things stopped moving only when you were enveloped in mom’s embrace, consciousness almost flying off from the relief that washed over you. Kisses were peppered along your hairline and forehead, her mumbling your name in gratitude blending with your panting. Tears burned bitter in your eyes, but you couldn’t cry, not when father was looking at you like that, chest rising and falling. You instantaneously remembered why you were holding that gun at the intensity he was radiating, tail escaping between your legs and letting mom hold you.

At least this way he wasn’t able to objurgate you.

Over her shoulder, you saw three ikrans instead of two. Heart soaring, you were skipping towards him in pure astonishment in a heartbeat. “Hey buddy!”

His head lowered down towards you in bird-like movements. In this angle, it looked like he was giving you a razor sharp-toothed big grin.

“He brought us here,” your mother said. The hand you were going to pet the ikran with stopped midway at her dejected tone. “You have passed Iknimaya, I take it. On your own.”

You didn’t know what to say, feeling immense guilt at having made her this disappointed over it. If this was any normal situation, any normal fight at all, you would have shot back with, ‘Well father told me to do it.’

But you were tired.

Your pain threshold was being threatened, and you needed to get to your grandmother before any of your parents saw the situation you were in and this escalated into the worst fight you were going to get into in your entire life.

Father’s only response was a dead cold, “C’mon, we gotta get outta here.”

He didn’t talk to you after that. Not one word.

Squatting on an ikran’s back on a flight with an abdominal gunshot wound you were trying to hide was not an option unless you wanted to pass out midair and was looking for a free dive, so you were all but hugging the poor thing’s neck like a monkey, trusting him to follow your parents while you concentrated on mentally fighting to level out the pain.

Nonsensical as it was to believe the gun stuck between your ikran’s neck and your stomach was acting as a tampon to lessen the bleeding, you were concerned with how dumb it must have looked to father and mom, how incompetent they must think of you that their daughter didn’t even know how to ride right.

Got an ikran for nothing.

Would they be less proud of you seeing how funny it appeared, nevermind that it was to contain your pain all the while not trying to faint?

But no words were exchanged about it.

Father clamping up right after he’d made sure you weren’t hurt (yikes) had resulted in this awkward trip succumbing in total silence. They had sandwiched you between them, only necessary space for the ikrans to beat their wings freely left, so close that you could discern the scariest look on father yet, deepening the lines of age in his face while simultaneously expressing his barely contained desire to kill someone.

A ticking time bomb.

Forget speaking at all, but not only did he never address you until now, he didn’t even look in your direction for once. You knew because staring at him for five minutes straight for him to just acknowledge your existence had proven to be unfruitful.

And the tears involuntarily streamed down your cheeks with how utterly worthless and alone that made you feel, trapped in this agony you couldn’t help but hide because he’d think you didn’t deserve to complain after bringing it upon yourself. You would rather bite your tongue and bear the pain than stay dreading his reaction.

Yeah, no, he couldn’t know.

Mom was looking over at you every one minute to make sure you were okay after her ears picked up on your sniffles, arrows of worry shot from her side sinking down your skin every single time, and you hated to make her this way.

Your ikran kept comforting you through tsaheylu until you landed.

Father had promptly jumped down, agile and making haste away somewhere, passing you by and giving the cold shoulder. You all but slid off your own ikran, managing to make the gun stay where it should be, as you couldn’t help but weakly call out to him for one drop of consolation. “Father…”

He didn’t stop for you, quickening his steps, but his ears twitched, the tail beating the air ferociously halting and lowering before it returned to the previous motions, and those were the only indications that he’d heard it Lima Charlie.

The man just didn’t want to talk to you.

And you had to make yourself believe it wasn’t the emotional devastation that had you falling down, but the wound sucking out all your energy now that you had gotten to safety.

“Ma’ite?” Mom rushed to you. “Ma’ite, what’s wrong? What is it?”

“I’m okay, mom, it’s okay.” You were sitting on the floor, cross-legged. Thank goodness you still had the unbreakable willpower (and not the fear of Eywa put into you by father) to hold your shit together. “I’m okay. Just tired. My knees buckled. Weak, you know?” You swallowed, smiling. “I’m just… Just resting.”

Her gaze full of concern studied you, zeroing in on the gun you clung on for dear life against your stomach. Her hands lovingly brushed your hair, gripped your shoulders and elbows even though you were disgustingly clammy all over. It was grounding, anchoring within the ocean of pain washing over you in waves.

“Oh, why are you sweating so much? You’re freezing.” You clutched the gun harder in a panic when she grasped it, most likely to put it away. It was the wrong reaction to have, but you weren’t exactly in the position to function healthily.

Mom, as any other person would, got suspicious from it, her eyes flying up to your owlish ones — blanked out like a frightened animal. “You’re fine now,” she whispered, thankfully attributing it to how disturbed you must be, still not out of survival mode. “You are safe, my daughter. Mom is here.” She cupped your cheek, but every touch to your body hurt now, even when it was away from the gaping wound, still gushing blood, trickling down your hips and getting you scared that it’d be discovered once you stood up. “I’m here.” She searched your soul to know just why you were grimacing at her attempts of comforting. “I will take this now, you do not need it anymore.”

You snapped out of the gradually darkening gray haze mom’s lulling was laying you down gingerly into. “No, please don’t,” your breathing hitched. She was going to see. She couldn’t see. You had to avoid this somehow, as long as you could. Grandmother’s tent. You would make it, you had to. “I’ll… I’ll just sit here for a while, okay? I need to just… take a small break, and then I’ll… Can you go back? I’ll follow later. Father is angry, I don’t—”

“Nonsense.” Incredulous and enraged suddenly about something you couldn’t put a finger on, and before you could stop her, she tried to haul you up with her by gripping your upper arms — colors exploded behind your eyelids, getting you you to lose consciousness for two seconds, your vision flooding back in a starry kaleidoscope. When mom’s voice reached your ears, it was in staccato exclaims your ears were ringing too much to discern. She was shaking you.

You weren’t able to sit up straight anymore, leaning forward — mom had caught you, utterly confused and panicked at the same time. And then your head was lying on the crook of her elbow resting on her legs she’d tucked under herself. The moment you’d switched from sitting to straight up lying down was missing from your memories.

A baby being cradled. Yes, this is exactly what it was like. Gentle arms surrounded you amidst the pulsating sea of agony.

Your body was letting go, but your arms were vices around the gun, still holding that last line. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. They can’t know. Father will be so mad if he learns. “‘m okay… ‘st restin’…”

When your eyes cleared enough for the surroundings to be only a bit blurry, your mom was looking at the hand she’d just tried to take away the gun with, caked with your blood that had stained it, out of it and perplexed like she didn’t want to believe it.

Her gut-wrenchingly stunned numbness sent the misery clawing its way inside into overdrive, pulling your consciousness down to the earth from the clouds it was ascending to. “Not mine,” you forced out, but it came out as begging. Everything was falling apart. The plan was so simple, why couldn’t you do anything right? “Not mine. Please. Mom, it’s okay.”

“No…” Mumbling, she started sharply swaying back and forth, and with one brutally vigorous attack, she ripped the gun away from your arms, and hurled it away — then it was over. Your sob wasn’t due to the motion hurting you, it was all entirely for the broken wail of your mother at seeing the bloodied mess, tears spilling from her eyes as she reached down to press down at the pouring liquid. “No! No! Oh Great Mother! Why did you hide this! Oh, my daughter!”

“No, mom, I’m fine, it’s nothing. Not my blood. Not my blood, okay?” You reached up weakly and wiped at her cheeks with trembling fingers, your heart got crushed worse than the pain could beat you down at her grief — lungs constricting. Where was all the air? “I’ll get up. I’ll go to grandmother, don’t cry. Just resting.”

Frantically looking around, she yelled, “Jake!—” but her voice didn’t quite come out, breathy as if she’d been punched in the ribcage seconds prior.

A heartbeat’s worth of nothingness, after which you were full-on freaking out. Only one thought: Father will be angry.

“No!” You shrieked, and blood swelled in one strong pump against mom’s fingers. She looked down at you in anguish, pupils blown wide, arm tightening around you as if you were a flailing bird. “Don’t tell him! Don’t tell father! He’ll really kill me for this—”

“No, no no no,” she shook her head, frenzied, tone cracked from beginning to end. “Do not say that. Don’t you ever say that—”

But you were struggling in her arms, wanting nothing but to crawl away into a hole, no reason registering whatsoever, only instinct. “He’ll be so angry,” you begged, pleading, pink spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth. The sound of gurgling accompanying the words you forced your whole body to form. “You can’t tell him — you can’t! He already hates me!”

The more you thrashed around and kicked your legs, the more you bled.

“Please, Great Mother!” The more mom lost her mind, hissing and howling hysterically, crazed, hugging you tighter and rocking. “Jake! Jake! Ma’Jake!” She put her temple against yours. “Not my daughter, please, Eywa…”

Why was she being like this? It wasn’t that serious! You were okay!

Delirium claimed you hot as she kept calling his name and her unbreakable hold on you kept you in a cage of a mother’s despair. In your feverish mind, a threat to your life was coming. Weakness spread like wildfire around your body and chipped away at the pain, slowly picking it apart to replace it with drowsiness. “Don’t call ‘im,” you continued to repeat, over and over again. “I’m just taking a break. Don’t call him over. He’s gonna be angry. He’ll hate me. He hates me. Please, mom.”

The sentences slurred together, shortened, wilted away pitifully, your voice died down, tongue deteriorating into only echoing, “He hates me.” A withered away, old flute.

Your ikran was bellowing in the distance and you looked. The torches on cave walls were illuminating him and finally revealing to you his beautiful color scheme.

And then your father was here, falling to his knees right beside you, his glistening wide eyes flying everywhere around your body — tracing all the blood, hands hovering above you as if he didn’t know where to start piecing a shattered vase back together.

It was over.

Fully expecting the chastising you were about to receive to shake the floating mountains so bad the enemy would be able to spot you, you began to apologize — pride be damned, this battle be lost, you’d failed anyway. “Please don’t be mad,” you shuddered, meek and unsteady, tunnel vision flickering at the edges only perceiving him. “It’s my fault—I’m sorry—please don’t be angry—”

“Stop talking,” he ordered, rough and harsh, eyebrows knitted tightly, and out of breath — probably because of how hard he was trying to hold the anger back. You knew. That had to be it. “Don’t speak.”

Ah of course. This was only natural when he had refused to utter a single word at you the whole way, denying you the temporary comfort of a simple glance.

Even the hand he pressed down so ruthlessly firm on your stomach it might as well be a boulder pinning you down was meant to be punishment, the whines your unbreathing lungs couldn’t stop turned into yowls — you hadn’t even noticed your hands were wrapped around father’s wrist in an effort to push him away, scratching him, but he only added his other hand on top of the other in return.

“Hang on, sweetheart, I got you, please hang on a little longer,” he pleaded, but you were already too far gone, Eywa was cruel to have plugged your ears to the endearment you’d been dying to hear from him for so long, making the last things you were aware father said to you the fact that he didn’t even want to hear you talking.

And you fulfilled his wish.

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#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader #irma: 📝#📖: light

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lostcherise · 1 month ago

Text

Know Your Place

pairing: ben/soldier boy x f!reader

summary: Ben isn't quite happy you get to boss him around, so he takes it upon himself to truly show you who's in charge.

tags/warnings: set in the 80s, just pure smut zero plot, soldier boy being a prick (a hot prick tho), dub con at first, dom!ben, rough sex, hair pulling, gagging, face fucking, choking, sir kink, creampie

word count: 3,741

a/n: you know the drill, not proofread yet but i'll get to it eventually. any feedback is welcome, i hope you enjoy reading as much as i did writing this.

The rhythmic clacking of your heels echoed throught the empty hallways of Vought Tower. Not a soul was around at that time of night, it was very well past 10P.M, the only remaining employees in the building being the night shift security guards and you.

Young and ambitious, you strived to fight your way to the top in the harsh cruel world of a male dominated corporation, and well, field in general. To say you hadn't been over the moon the moment you had gotten promoted to being Stan Edgar's right hand, his replacement when needed in supervising Payback, would have been an understatement.

However, the excitement soon fizzled out once you got an insight of how things truly operated within the corporation and the Payback team. Especially Soldier Boy. That man although downright handsome, he was just as much of a prick. It was fine being a simple assistant, your interactions were kept minimal, but along with the promotion came more time spent with the members of Payback.

With a deep sigh, you braced yourself before your fist made contact with the wooden door in a firm knock. You rolled your shoulders back, as if to seem more confident, when in reality anxiety was eating you up from the inside. The door forcefully swung open, causing a startled gasp to slip out of you.

"Well, sweetheart, I knew you'd come around eventually." Soldier Boy drawled. He stood tall and confident, his large frame towering over you, scandalously dressed in just a deep green silk robe - same shade as his suit.

You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to quip back, but that was not the reason you were there. "I'm here to talk business." you gave him a pointed look.

To your surprise, he silently stepped to the side motioning for you to come in and you did not miss the way his eyes traveled up and down as he took you in. As much as your mind fought to maintain control, your heart betrayed you and took over, heartbeat increasing. Heat rushed to your cheeks because you just knew he had heard that.

"I'm all ears, doll." you could hear the smug smirk on his voice.

"Listen, Soldier Boy-"

"Ben."

Your body whipped back to look at him. "What?"

"Call me Ben when we're alone." he commanded.

"Soldier- Ben." you corrected yourself immediately. "It's about your upcoming movie."

Immediately you were met with a groan, and Ben scowled at you as he made his way to his mini bar. "I've told that fucker Edgar millions of times, and I'm telling you this too." he pointed at your direction, a crystal tumbler in hand. "I'm not sharing the spotlight with that cum guzzler, Noir."

"It will improve your ratings, it's good for diversity."

Instead you were met with a condescending scoff. "Sweetheart, I don't need any of that," he inched closer to you, the ice clinking against the crystal walls of his glass with each step closer to you. "I'm fuckin' Soldier Boy."

"Why don't you get off your high horse and just do the fucking movie?" you snapped, shocking both him and you. Usually, you remained poised and collected, but the increasing stresses of the job were catching up to you.

"Excuse me?" he asked, looking up at you with a raised brow from the rim of his glass.

"As your boss-"

"No woman is the boss of me." he cut you off, before gulping down the rest of his drink.

That comment should have angered you more than it truly had, but over the years your skin had thickened this much you were practically immune to such words. Instead, it just riled you on even more. Call it stubborness, pride; you didn't care it just drove you to show that whatever men could do, you did it better.

"And yet, here I am." this time it was your turn to smirk smugly.

Ben inched closer to you, so close his spicy ambery scent engulfed you entirely. Once again, your heart betrayed you beating so hard as if it was fighting to burst out of your chest.

"And yet, too powerless to make me change my mind." Ben spoke in a low rumbling hum.

His body heat was pulling you in, itching to be engulfed by him. And although you knew better than to get linked with him in such way, your body ached to feel him; lust and curiosity were killing you.

Ben inched closer, an action that had you leaning in closer to him involuntarily, he was pulling you in like a magnet. "The answer's no sweetheart, give it up." he pulled back abruptly, his tone turning clipped in just a matter of seconds. With a pivot, he made his way over to the mini bar once more for a refill.

Frozen, you stood there for a few seconds before you snapped back to reality and marched off to where he stood.

"I've risked a lot to be in this position and I'm not going to allow a manchild like you jeopardize my job. So, accept the offer." your chest was heaving. Frankly, you didn't know where that sudden burst of bravery came from, but one thing you were sure of was that it was reckless; given the fact that Soldier Boy was a literal walking ticking time bomb.

The bottom of his glass clanked loudly against the marble counter top and it was only a matter of seconds before you found yourself pinned between him and the counter. While one hand gripped the edge of the counter, the other had your jaw in a tight hold.

His mossy green eyes were ablaze, glaring down on you. "Go on and act boss on those sack jugglers, but that attitude won't work on me."

The way his body was pressed against you, your thigh somewhat between his - as much as your pencil skirt could allow you - his rough hands on you, should have ignited a sense of fear in you. Oddly, it had the opposite effect and your skin sizzled beneath his calloused fingers, your imagination jumping wildly at pictures you were painting in your head of what those very same fingers were capable of doing to you.

Involutarily, your legs spread just a little wider, which of course did not go unnoticed by Ben. Cocky and full of himself, he chuckled at your state, it was so easy to get you were he wanted and he hadn't even tried.

"What is it sweetheart? You want a taste, hm?" his hand traveled further down, enclosing around your throat, constricting your airway ever so slightly.

Forming a coherent answer seemed like a foreign concept, your mind screaming at you to say that this was wrong on so many levels, yet all you could muster to let out were weak whimpers.

Of course, to Ben that seemed enough of an affirmative answer and wasted no time in jumping into action. If it was even possible, he harshly pulled you closer, and you could feel all of him against you, hard all over.

"The things I keep thinking of doing to you every time I see the way you sway that sweet piece of ass in that tight skirt of yours," he grumbled in your ear and grabbed a handful of your left ass cheek in a tight squeeze. "Drives me mad, doll." he finished his sentence with an echoing slap on your ass that had you jumping with a yelp.

The same hand then moved up to grab a fistful of your hair, his fingers curling at the roots. "On your knees." he commanded, ushering you down by giving your hair a firm tug.

Right there and then was a perfect opportunity to get up and leave, yet your knees made contact with the cold marble floor beneath you, all the while your gaze never left his. You were pretty sure you looked like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide and somewhat scared; scared of what was to come next, and yet that also riled you on even more.

Yes, you were aware of the hushed whispers shared amongst your female coworkers about him; of his skills in pleasuring women. Now it was your turn to see for yourself. Either you were going to hate this, or love this too much that no other man after him could compare.

"Be a good girl and use that mouth of yours for something good this time, hm?" Ben curled his top lip, pulling at your hair and forcing your head backwards to look at him.

Unable to speak, you simply nodded to which you earned a cocky smirk in response. Not bothering to strip completely, Ben simply pushed his robe aside, revealing his hardened length.

Of course that slut was naked under his robe, you thought to yourself, but your train of thought was cut short when you felt your head being pushed towards his cock. As if with a mind on its own, your mouth enclosed around his shaft, already halfway in, his angry tip hitting the back of your throat.

A guttural sound slipped past parted lips and Ben thrusted himself further down your throat, causing you to gag around him. He pulled you back by your hair and you coughed out and gasped for air. A few seconds passed before you found yourself in the same position, this time slackening your jaw to take in his girth better, his firm hold on the back of your head steadily keeping you in place.

His hips snapped in short, rhythmic thrusts as he fucked himself down your throat. "You take me so well, better than any other broad." Although the compliment was backhanded, it still managed to light up a fire within you, making your chest swell with a newfound wave of confidence.

You tried matching his frantic rhythim, bobbing your head along his length, pulling your head back whenever he pulled back his hips, meeting him again when he pushed deep in you, your nose burying in the short tuft of hair around the base of his cock.

A few more seconds passed and your eyes started brimming with tears as you struggled for breath, while also fighting back the feeling of the dull throbbing in your throat. You were definitely going to wake up with a sore throat in the morning.

Ben, seemingly lost in the throes of his pleasure, kept fucking into you, unaware of your struggle. Your hand found purchase on his strong thigh, giving it a series of firm squeezes to get his attention back to you.

He took one good look at you, at the state he had you in, all disheveled and teary eyed before he pulled out. He smiled pridefully and the sight of you like that made his cock twitch for more. "Up." he commanded, to which you immediately jumped up on your feet. A little dizzy, you braced yourself with your hands on his chest.

Ben's strong forearm wrapped beneath your bottom, lifting you up as if you were light as a feather. You held his gaze, all the while he carried you to his room.

In a swift motion, he threw you on the large Alaskan king bed adorning his large bedroom, and you fell lying on your side. You lifted yourself up on your knees, shaky fingers fumbling with the tie of his robe. "How do you want me?" you asked quietly, looking at him through your lashes.

"Oh, sweetheart," Ben cooed, bending down to grab your chin, the pad of his thumb toying with your bottom lip, then pushing inside your mouth to press against your tongue. "I'll have you any way I want."

At his words, your lips wrapped around his digit the same way they had wrapped around his cock. You pulled back, "Please." you let out a wanton whimper.

"Aren't you an eager one?" he chuckled, his hand moving down to grip around your throat, and pushing you down on the mattress in one swift motion. He followed suit, hovering over you and sizing you up as if he was a predator and you were his prey; he had you cornered right where he wanted you to be.

Immediately, your face flushed red, because yes you were being incredibly eager for him. You clearly weren't thinking straight, but that would be an issue to deal with for when you were no longer so horny.

"I need you inside me. Please, sir."

"Say that again." Ben's voice was so low it almost came out as a growl, his tone also full of lust.

"Please, sir, fuck me." you begged once more, your hands coming up to hold on to his strong forearm.

"Only because you asked so nicely."

He quickly removed his hand from your throat and forcefully ripping your shirt open, sending the buttons flying everywhere. His eyes were transfixed on the frantic up and down of your chest, watching the swells of your breasts moving with each sharp intake.

He mouthed at each one through the thin satin fabric of your bralette, feeling your nipples harden against his mouth. Albeit disappointed he didn't pay enough attention to your breasts, it was all lost on you the moment his hand slid up your skirt, between your thighs. His fingers wrapped around the fabric of your panties, bunching them at the center of your core, pulling them against you and causing much needed friction against your clit.

"Shit." you gasped out at the foreign sensation. No one had played with your clit like that. With each passing second, the fabric glided in between your folds with much ease as it was getting soaked with your slick.

"Gonna fucking wreck you." he groaned against your stomach, his teeth grazing your bare skin. "Think you can take it?"

"Yes. Yes, sir!" At this point you were panting like a bitch in heat. Your hands found their way in his sandy brown locks, tugging softly.

Ben remained silent, but his actions spoke louder than any words that could've been said. With one flick of his wrist, your panties were torn, leaving you in just your bra and skirt. His hand moved to do the same to your skirt, but in a tiny moment of clarity, your hand came over his. "Please don't rip this one, too."

Ben chuckled breathlessly, "You're no fun sweetheart." he chided, but complied nonetheless. In no mood for teasing, he quickly pulled the zipper down and slid your skirt down your thighs and past your ankles. His fingers then found their way on your cunt, sliding two fingers across your folds to gather up your slick, before plunging them deep inside you with no warning.

"Oh, shit." you moaned breathlessly; the pace of his fingers quickening inside you with every pulse of your muscles around them. Your whines raised in volume as he curled his fingertips, hitting the back of your pelvic bone.

His assault on your pussy went on for a few more seconds, until your slick was dripping down his knuckles, your pussy all prepped and ready to take him. With a lewd sound, he removed his fingers and moved them towards you, toying with your lips. Eagerly, you lapped up at his long digits, tasting yourself on him.

"Gonna fuckin' wreck you." Ben grunted heavily above you, lifting your left leg up and positioned your ankle on his strong shoulder, while you wrapped your right one around his waist.

With a shy smile, your hands reached to toy with the tie of his robe again, only this time your forefinger looped around the knot, undoing it in one swift motion. A shaky breath was caught in your throat the moment you finally took him in, in all his glory. He was so big and strong all over, it made your core ache for him in a way that had you questioning your sanity.

"I can take it, please."

You held your gaze with his, noticing the change in his eyes; how they darkened with desire. His plump lips curled into a smirk, he remained silent all the while he grabbed himself by the base, moving the tip of his length to align with your slit.

Your jaw slacked the moment his head pushed in. Ben moved deliberately slow, sheathing himself inside you inch by inch, until he bottomed out. You both groaned at the feeling, of how he was stretching you so perfectly, of how your pussy clamped up around him, engulfing and sucking him in.

His hand gripped around your thigh tight enough to bruise, bracing himself as he pulled out almost entirely, and pushing back in in one hard thrust. His movements repeated, growing more frequent with each thrust, yet the force remained the same.

After about five or six thrusts, Ben had set a steady pace that had you moaning beneath him; although at first the stretch of his cock hurt you a bit, it all melted down to pure pleasure.

Ben's free hand moved to pull your bra cups down, just enough so he could admire the way your breasts spilled out and bounced rhythmically with his every thrust. He delivered a couple of firm slaps on each one, your nipples tingled in pained bliss upon contact.

"Do it again."

"Ask nicely." Ben's hand gripped your jaw and keeping your head in place, forcing you to focus on him. Despite that, your eyes still rolled in the back of your head as Ben kept on fucking into you relentlessly, his pace never once faltering.

"Please, sir."

As much as Ben would love to keep you on the edge and beg for it more, he loved hearing the way you moaned and clenched around his cock more, so he gave in. He only stopped his assault on your breasts until they were red and sore to the touch and you kept begging for him to stop.

He grabbed your ankle off his shoulder, throwing it to the side so you were now flipped on your stomach and face first with the mattress. "Ass up, doll." he commanded, landing a firm slap to your ass. Silently, you obeyed, shimmying your hips further up, and arched your back in a perfect angle.

Ben's hands toyed with the fatness of your cheeks, massaging them and digging his fingers into the supple skin, and he spread them apart exposing yourself to him. He admired the way your pussy glistened in the dimly lit room and he pulled your cheeks just a bit further, transfixed by the way your walls clenched around nothing.

The tip of his cock rubbed against your folds, teasing your entrance before moving a bit further down to play with your hardened clit. He guided his cock back up to align with your entrance, plunging himself deep with ease. He was on one knee - the only time Ben ever saw himself on that position - having better leverage that way, being able to fuck into you much deeper.

He grunted behind you, loving the way you so eagerly bounced back on his cock, your hips meeting him halfway. You were a whining mess beneath him and he loved every second of it. Feeling very gracious, he moved one hand down between your legs, his middle finger finding its way to your clit expertly. His pace on your nub matched that of his hips and it was what drove you over the edge.

Your hands gripped the bed covers, and you buried your head deeper into the mattress to muffle the screams of pleasure that ripped through you. Tingles coursed through your body, all the way to your toes as that hot familiar feeling built up inside you. It was only seconds after when your back arched even deeper, and your pussy clamped up around Ben's thickness as your orgasm hit you in waves. His finger never once halted, only prolonging that warm blissful feeling that had your toes curling and your entire body shivering.

"Such a good girl, doin' so good f'me. Taking my cock so well." Ben praised you, only now he sounded the tiniest out of breath, indicating that he must be close to his own climax as well.

A few seconds later, your body began to relax as the aftershocks of your orgasm began to die down. His hand moved up to press your head roughly into the mattress, his hips snapping frantically into your needy cunt as he chased his own orgasm. The bed creaked beneath as Ben was fucking into you with such force, you were surprised you were able to take it, given his superhuman strength.

"Gonna fill you up so good." he moaned above you.

"God, yes. Yes!" you screamed, his balls were slapping against your overstimulated clit, driving you into your second orgasm. It came over you like the first one times 10, your entire body quaking as it pusled through you.

Ben's fingers curled around the roots of your hair, his grip on your head tightening and pushed you even deeper into the mattress. His hips slapped sloppily against yours for a few more thrusts, until they halted. His cock twitched and spilled his hot seed inside you, coating your walls white. He came hard and loud, his chest rumbling whilst he let out a deep guttural moan.

He pulled out with a groan, and admired the way his cum dripped out of your swollen pussy and onto the covers; truly a sight he'd never get tired of. He slumped back on he bed, resting against the headboard, only after grabbing a much needed blunt from his nightstand.

You hadn't moved much, only now you were sat up on your knees and eyed him, the way his hair fell over his eyes, the way his pecs shone with a light sheen of sweat. Ben caught your gaze, smirking at you as he blew a thin cloud of smoke, he studied how there was a sense of reluctancy written in your eyes.

With an outstretched hand, he offered you the blunt with a doubtful look in his eyes. Silently, you accepted without any second thoughts which only surprised Ben even more. Your eyes held a silent conversation with his, a new kind of tension loomed above the two of you.

Work was going to be interesting the next morning.

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy smut #soldier boy #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #the boys #the boys fanfic #jensen ackles

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