#aera reads

[eiternity]

i finally got my hand on a copy of house of leaves at my local library, i hope shit's gonna get me on the edge of my seat.

[aeralux]

"I'd Rather Be With You" - Lucerys Velaryon

Modern!Lucerys x Reader (part two here)

Summary: "People have a way of leaving. Best to not let anyone close." This is the saying Lucerys lived his whole life by. Keeping others at a distance even if it hurts both him and others. Why should you be the exception?

Warnings: SMUT 18+; sad boy Lucerys; virginity loss (Lucerys); fingering; soft sex; angst; creampie; small dead city

Words: 15k

Notes: No description of the reader. It came out long but it's literally full of them interacting idk. This ends how it ends... if you want a part two, please let me know. I am not responsible for the media you consume.

It was honestly a pretty stupid thing to do. Spending the last bit of your summer break like this felt boring and pointless, but your mom insisted you visit your great-aunt for two months. You didn’t want to go, but no one bothered to ask youwhat you thought. It had been four years since you last saw her—so why should you bother now?

She resided in the decaying seaside town of Littlewater, a place where charm had long faded, replaced instead by a haunting sense of isolation. With only about 700 people, the city was filled with rundown buildings and overgrown dunes, giving off a vibe of loneliness. In your eyes, it was no place for a young woman—too stifling, too dreary, an echo of abandonment.

The name was spot on, too—Littlewater. Just a short distance from the lively port city of Duskendale. Your great-aunt Glorina moved there with her husband when it still had some life. But after her husband passed away, so did the town, leaving her alone with her memories and the eerie quietness of Littlewater. What a sad story, you thought.

With little choice, you piled into the car with your dad, your small suitcase in the back, along with your loyal buddy, Cannibal—a big black mutt who thought he was a lap dog. At least he could keep you company and help keep the creepiness at bay.

As you finally stood outside Glorina’s quaint seaside house, the world around you seemed to hold its breath. The tyres of your father’s car screeched against the gravel, shattering the uneasy tranquillity. Tentatively, you raised your hand and knocked on the door.

When it creaked open, there stood a small woman with a warm smile and long grey hair. She pulled you into a hug that felt both comforting and strange. “How good it is to finally see you, my little,” she whispered into your hair, smelling ofsalty sea breeze and cooking grease. You smiled back, feeling a hint of warmth even though you hadn’t seen her since your teenage years. Yet, amid that comfort, there was an odd feeling stirring deep down—a mix of welcome and something else, something a bit off, waiting in the shadows.

You feel a deep sadness wash over you as you unpack your clothes in the small room designated for you. The walls are painted a soft baby blue, adorned with whimsical white clouds that drift lazily across the surface, evoking a sense of innocence and nostalgia. This was once the room of Glorina's little boy, Niclas—the baby who was taken from her far too soon. The air feels heavy with unspoken memories, and as you set the last of your clothes into the small closet, a long sigh escapes your lips. You turn away from the room and head back downstairs.

"I just finished unpacking. Is there any way I could help you out?" you ask, seeing Glorina busy behind the stove. The enticing aroma of pancakes fills the air, golden and fluffy, as she expertly flips one onto a waiting plate. A wide, genuine smile spreads across her face when she turns to you, and despite the sadness lingering in your heart, you can't help but smile back at her warmth.

Maybe it was a good decision to come here, to heed your parents' advice and not make too much fuss. Glorina clearly needed the company, and you felt relieved at the thought. "No, my dear, I'm fine on my own," she replies softly, her voice as comforting as the smell of fresh pancakes. "You should go and take a little walk before dinner. Explore the area, and take Cannibal out for some air." She beams at the large black dog, who sits patiently by her side, his eyes sparkling with excitement at the mention of a walk.

You huff a soft laugh, fetching Cannibal's leash from the hook by the door. "Come on, big boy. Let’s go discover," you coo at him, feeling the weight of tension in the house lift just a little. "I'll be back soon... don’t wanna stay out after dark," you add quickly, a shiver running down your spine at the thought of the town's eerie ambience as dusk approaches. The shadows dance outside the windows, and you can't shake the unsettling feeling that clings to the air like a thick fog. As you open the door, Cannibal lags happily at your side, and you step out into the fading light.

Following the narrow path to the sea, grains of sand sifted into your worn-out sneakers. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue over the horizon as it slowly began to dip below the water. Perhaps it was time to head back; you were unsure how the people of this town felt about strangers, the thought lingering in your mind.

Just as you turned to retrace your steps, your gaze caught on a figure in the distance. A tall young man stood there, his silhouette outlined against the fading light. Something about his presence made you pause. You felt rooted to the spot, unable to move as you watched him from afar. He was pulling in a fishing net, his movements strong and fluid, yet there was a weight to them. There was an undeniable magnetism in his demeanour—a quiet strength with a profound loneliness that seemed to resonate with you.

Suddenly, Cannibal’s loud bark broke the stillness, jolting you back to reality. You took a moment to collect yourself, and then with heavy steps, you made your way back to Glorina’s little cabin. As you entered, the sweet, inviting aroma of pancakes drizzled with condensed milk enveloped your senses, momentarily pushing aside thoughts of the mysterious boy on the docks.

“So? What do you think of Littlewater?” Glorina asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she leaned forward, eager to hear your impression.

With a hesitant smile, you replied, “It’s quiet. Not that it’s bad, but… it seems a bit lonely.” Glorina nodded slowly, her smile dimming slightly as she processed your words. Sensing the weight of the topic, she chose not to pry any further and simply encouraged you to dig in, serving up a plate piled high with golden pancakes.

The first night in an unfamiliar place always felt like the hardest, so you decided to rise early and make the most of the day. Cannibal still lay asleep peacefully in the small hut just beyond the door, blissfully unaware of your restlessness. The grass glistened with droplets of morning dew, while birds chirped cheerfully in the trees, making the whole area feel a bitmore alive than it had the night before.

You chose to follow the same path as yesterday, seeking comfort in its familiarity. A small part of you held on to the hope of seeing the boy again. But how would you recognize him? You only remembered that he was tall and had dark hair—details that barely scratched the surface.

After a while of wandering, you found yourself at the marina. It was surprisingly quiet, with only a few men scattered around, busy with their tasks. The absence of lively chatter was almost eerie. Among them, one young man caught your attention. He was hunched over, tinkering with an old boat. His hands were smeared with grease, and damp curls framed his face, glistening from the ocean spray.

“Excuse me? Do you know how I could get back to Rosemary Lane? I seem to have gotten lost...” you asked, your voice barely breaking through the stillness. He barely glanced up, mumbling a polite answer before returning to his work, though you caught a flicker of intrigue in his eyes—a brief moment you didn’t fully recognize. Feeling dismissed, you turned to leave, only to realize too late that he was the same young man from yesterday.

“Stay away from the Velaryons.”

You spun around sharply at the sudden voice. A small blonde boy, maybe about 12 years old, sat on his bike. His knees were scraped and dirty, evidence of rough play. “What?” you asked, puzzled by his warning.

“Stay away from the Velaryons,” he repeated, his voice serious despite his young age. “They’re trouble.” With that, he pedalled away, leaving you standing there in confusion, trying to grasp the weight of his words.

With a furrowed brow and a swirl of questions in your mind, you felt your curiosity deepen. Who were the Velaryons? What sort of trouble did they bring? Looking down at your feet, you took a deep breath and pressed on, hoping thatGlorina would have a strong cup of coffee—that definitely had whiskey in it—to soothe your racing thoughts.

Your great-aunt Glorina was still a busy woman despite not working due to her old age. The small, lively woman had embraced a range of new interests that kept her spirit vibrant: tarot cards, crystals, and healing herbs danced around her daily routine. And cooking, oh thank the Gods for that!

As you sat across from her at the small kitchen table, the faint aroma of her famous herb-infused eggs wafted through the air, making your stomach rumble. She cleared her throat as you shuffled the worn tarot deck in your hands, and when you finally drew a card, she flinched. 

“Ohh, the Three of Swords,” she said, her eyes widening as she glanced at the card, a mix of sympathy and mischief in her expression. You narrowed your brows in confusion, leaning closer as if sharing a secret between you. Over the past few days, you had formed a bond, finding comfort and understanding in each other’s quirky interests.

“Is it bad or…?” you asked cautiously, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly but still palpable.

“Well, that depends on how you look at it,” she replied, her voice soothing, almost rhythmic, like a gentle lullaby. “It’s a heart pierced by three swords. Can’t be much clearer than that,” you said with a shrug before tossing back the last sip of your coffee.

“Take two more cards, then we’ll see the whole story,” she instructed, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she offered the deck toward you, her hand steady, as if inviting you to seal your fate.

With a hopeful heart and eyes closed tight, you let your instincts guide you, reaching into the mystical air that seemed to hum with energy. “Well? What’d I get?” you asked, slowly opening your eyes again, curiosity bubbling inside you.

Glorina looked up, her expression a puzzle. “The Star and The Hermit… reversed.”

“Um, what does that mean?” you mirrored her serious expression, your excitement tinged with a hint of nervousness.

“Just eat the eggs I made for you. I cooked them just like you used to like… all those years ago,” she said, nudging the steaming plate toward you with a gentle smile. It was something she often did when she wanted to dodge deeper topics. You noticed how the corners of her mouth turned up, masking emotions you knew were lurking beneath. You let it go this time. 

“You might want to make some friends around here. Can’t be cooped up with an old woman for two months, now can you?” she tried to say playfully, but you heard the hint of sadness in her laugh, a self-deprecating joke that only made your heart ache for her.

“I like spending time with you here,” you admitted, your voice softening as you carefully placed your hand over hers. You could have sworn you saw tears shine in her eyes, yet she kept smiling, and that made you want to hug her fiercely. “I really do. I mean it.”

“But I’ll look around for some people my own age… if they still exist here,” you added with a teasing scoff, and as you took another bite of the comforting meal, you felt a warmth spreading through the room.

And that's where you saw him again. At the local diner, which had seen better days, adorned with faded posters and peeling wallpaper. The only thing missing was the waitresses on roller skates, zooming around with trays in hand.

He sat in a booth with a boy who looked like a slightly older version of him—maybe a year or two apart. It was clear they were brothers. You caught a quick glance, something casual but charged, before deciding to avoid any awkward moments. Instead, you opted for a slice of warm apple pie and a bitter cup of coffee, steering clear of stare-downs.

“Will that be all?” came the soft voice of a waitress with bleach-blonde hair and wide eyes, her smile friendly but faintly curious. You simply nodded, still feeling like an outsider in this place.

“You’re new,” she remarked, not quite looking at you as she placed your pie and coffee in front of you. “Nothing goes unnoticed here.” Finally, she looked up, meeting your gaze. “I’m Hel. You’re pretty.”

You were taken aback by the sudden compliment, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you stammered your thanks.“Thanks, you as well.” 

But before it could turn into a conversation, she returned to her duties, leaving you alone with your thoughts and an odd sensation of being watched. Despite your instincts telling you to ignore it, you turned back. There he was, his striking green eyes locked onto yours, steady and intense. The weight of his gaze made you feel exposed, and before long, you looked away, unable to hold his stare any longer.

The second encounter happened at the shore. Your great-aunt had taken you for a walk to explore the town, Cannibal rightbeside you, his presence comforting. Just as Glorina stepped aside to gřeet an old friend, he appeared, as if out of nowhere, standing tall behind you on the narrow dock meant for kids to leap into the water.

“Hi,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling slightly as you fought to maintain your composure. The air felt thick with anticipation, and for a moment, it felt like the world around you had faded away.

He hesitated, his lips parting slightly as if searching for the right words. Up close, you noticed things you hadn’t before—the faint freckles scattered across his nose, the way his damp curls clung to his forehead, and the guarded expression that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hi,” he finally replied, his voice soft and tentative, as if unsure whether speaking to you was a mistake.

You felt the moment thin, taut like a thread threatening to snap. He looked away, glancing over the waves lapping against the dock before returning his gaze to you. This time, his expression was cautious but curious. “You’re... new here, right?”

“Yeah,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear nervously.

He nodded, his jaw tightening slightly, though you couldn’t tell why. His gaze flickered to Cannibal, who wagged his tail lazily beside you. “Your dog?” he asked, almost as if searching for a safe topic.

“Yeah. He’s my shadow,” you said with a small smile, trying to put some warmth into the conversation.

Luke smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His hands fidgeted at his sides, betraying an undercurrent of unease.“I, uh… I saw you at the diner,” he admitted, his voice dropping a notch. There was something in the way he said it, like it wasn’t just a casual observation.

You blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. “Oh. I thought I saw you too,” you said, your own voice softer now. “With your brother?”

At the mention of his brother, Luke’s expression shifted. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he looked down at the planks of the dock, the gentle creak of the wood filling the silence. “Yeah. That was Jace,” he said finally, his tone carefully neutral.

You wanted to ask more, to pull at the threads he seemed to be guarding so tightly, but something about his body language warned you not to push too hard. Instead, you opted for a lighter approach. “Do you come here a lot? The shore, I mean.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly as if your change in direction eased some unseen weight. “Sometimes,” he said, his eyes lifting to the horizon. “It’s quiet. You can think out here.”

The way he said it made you think he came here not just to think, but to escape. For a while, neither of you spoke. The waves filled the silence, a rhythmic backdrop to the unspoken tension hanging between you.

“I don’t usually talk to people,” he said suddenly, breaking the quiet. His voice was low, almost drowned out by the sea.

You turned to him, your brows knitting together. “Why not?”

He shrugged, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “People have a way of leaving.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, an ache settling in your chest. You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything at all. Instead, you let the moment linger, hoping he might fill the silence.

When he finally turned to look at you, there was something raw in his eyes, a mixture of fear and curiosity. “You don’tseem like you belong here,” he said, his tone not unkind but laced with quiet wonder.

You swallowed, unsure whether it was a compliment or a fact. “Maybe I don’t,” you admitted. “But I’m here now.”

For the first time, his lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile. It was fleeting, like the first glimpse of sunlight after a storm, but it was there.

And somehow, in that moment, it felt like enough.

That was until Glorina called out your name, her voice warm and inviting. "Come, darling! Let's head back! The chicken in the oven should be ready soon!" With a lingering glance at the boy whose name you didn't even know, you turned away, feeling a mix of curiosity and regret. Cannibal, your loyal dog, wagged his tail excitedly at your side, eager to follow you back.

The next day, your great-aunt sent you on an errand to pick up groceries and other essentials for her. With her cooking bistro-level meals for you three times a day, it was hard to refuse her request. You appreciated her efforts, even if it meant stepping out into the eerie streets.

Standing in the grocery store, you found yourself caught between rows of bright packaging for toiletries and hygiene products. Clutching the crumpled list she had written, you squinted at her small, messy handwriting. It curled and swirled across the page, making some items almost impossible to read. You leaned closer, trying to decipher her hurried notes while the familiar sounds of carts rolling and kids laughing filled the air around you.

"Need help with reading?" Came a deeper male voice from beside you.

You turned toward the voice, already half-smiling in reflex, only to find yourself face-to-face with the boy from the shore.

He stood there, holding a small basket of groceries in one hand, his other tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. Up close, he seemed even more striking—freckles dusted across his nose like constellations, his green eyes sharp and inquisitive. The faintest smirk tugged at his lips, though his posture remained casual, almost distant.

“I—uh, no. I’ve got it,” you stammered, gripping the list tighter as if to prove your point. Heat rushed to your face, a mix of embarrassment and that strange, undeniable pull you felt toward him.

He tilted his head slightly, his curls shifting with the motion. “Sure about that? You’ve been squinting at that thing for a while.”

You glanced down at the paper, realizing you’d been staring at the same word—toothpaste—for a good thirty seconds. Clearing your throat, you looked back up at him. “It’s my great-aunt’s handwriting. Feels like trying to crack a secret code.”

His smirk deepened, but only just. “Sounds like a challenge.”

The tension between you both hung in the air, delicate and unspoken, like the space between two magnets just shy of connecting. You weren’t sure what to say, and for a second, neither was he.

“Well,” he said finally, nodding toward your list. “Good luck with the decoding.”

He started to walk past you, and for reasons you didn’t fully understand, you couldn’t let him leave just yet. “Wait,” you called out, the word slipping out before you could stop yourself.

He stopped mid-step, turning back to you, his brow slightly raised. “Yeah?”

“Do you… live here?” The question felt clumsy as it left your mouth, but you couldn’t shake the need to know more about him.

“Yeah.” His response was short, clipped. His guard was back up, the brief openness you saw at the shore now buried under layers of caution.

“Oh,” you said, feeling the weight of his reticence. But then, a flicker of courage sparked within you. “You’re not big on talking, are you?”

His lips twitched, not quite a smile but close. “Depends.”

“On what?” you pressed, curiosity weaving through your words.

“On who I’m talking to.”

The words landed softly between you, not quite an invitation, but not a dismissal either. He shifted his basket to his other hand as if to distract himself from the weight of the moment.

You weren’t sure why, but his quiet intensity made you want to push, just a little. “Am I that bad of a person to talk to?”

His gaze flickered to yours, and for the first time, you thought you saw something in those green eyes—something hesitant and searching. “No,” he said quietly, almost as if the answer surprised him.

Before you could say anything else, the shrill beep of the intercom announcing a sale broke the spell. Lucerys looked away, the brief moment of vulnerability gone as quickly as it came. “I should go,” he muttered, nodding toward the exit.

And just like that, he was gone.

Later that night, as you sat on your great-aunt’s porch watching the sun sink below the horizon, you couldn’t stop replaying the encounter in your mind. His voice, his gaze, the way he’d seemed to want to talk but held himself back—it all lingered, like a song stuck on repeat.

The boy with the stormy eyes and the quiet demeanour.

A few days had passed, each one quietly shifting from dusk to dawn. You hadn’t done much during this time, choosing to spend moments with your affectionate dog and your quirky great-aunt rather than exploring the town, which still sent shivers down your spine.

But as the days went by, your legs began to crave some movement, and you longed to feel the ocean waves lapping against your skin. So, you decided to take Cannibal, your playful dog, along with an old backpack that Glorina had found for you. You made your way to the small beach a short distance away. The beach was nearly empty—a perfect escape.

With loud splashes and bursts of laughter, you ran into the cool, salty water. Cannibal, dashing ahead, barked joyfully as he swam toward you, his tail wagging as if he had the biggest smile on his face.

“Let’s race to the docks, okay? Come on, big boy!” you called out, starting to run toward the wooden docks. The soft sand made it a bit tricky to sprint, but your excitement pushed you forward. As you neared the docks, you spotted a figure seated at the edge, legs dangling over the water’s surface. You suddenly came to a halt, squinting to see who it might be.

Cannibal, however, had already reached the person and plopped down beside him. You felt a mix of curiosity and hesitation as you jogged closer, trying to understand the scene before you.

“Cannibal, let’s head back, alright?” you said, trying to coax your dog. But Cannibal wouldn’t budge; he sat contentedly next to the stranger, looking up at you with his bright green eyes that seemed to sparkle with mischief.

“Your dog’s name is Cannibal?” the figure asked, a hint of surprise in his voice as he held a closed notebook tightly in his hand.

You stopped a few feet away, catching your breath. The voice was unmistakable, and as the figure turned slightly, you confirmed it—him.

“Yeah, Cannibal,” you replied, brushing a strand of damp hair from your face. “He kind of eats everything in sight, so… it fits.”

He glanced down at the dog, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Doesn’t seem very cannibalistic to me,” he said, scratching Cannibal gently behind the ears.

“Well, don’t let him fool you. He’s a menace,” you joked, though your voice softened as you watched the way Cannibal leaned into his touch.

He didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he shifted his notebook in his lap, the edges of a pencil tucked into the spiral binding catching your eye. “He likes the water, huh?” he asked, nodding toward the ocean.

“Loves it,” you said, stepping closer. “Sometimes I think he’s part seal.”

He chuckled under his breath—so quiet you almost missed it. You hesitated, your gaze flickering to the notebook in his lap. “Do you, uh, come here often?”

“Sometimes,” he said with a shrug, his eyes fixed on the horizon. “It’s quiet.”

The same answer he’d given before. But now, with the notebook in view, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to his visits than just seeking quiet.

“What’s that?” you asked, nodding toward the notebook.

Lucerys stiffened slightly, his grip tightening around it. “Nothing,” he said quickly. “Just… something I mess around with.”

His tone was guarded, but not unkind. You tilted your head, curiosity blooming. “Can I see?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer, his jaw clenching as if debating whether to let you in. Finally, with a quiet sigh, he handed the notebook over. “It’s not… good or anything,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

You took it gently, sitting down beside him on the dock. Cannibal wagged his tail happily, oblivious to the tension between the two of you.

The first page was filled with rough sketches of the ocean—waves crashing against rocks, a lighthouse in the distance, and the silhouette of a boat. The lines were delicate but precise, each stroke capturing a kind of quiet beauty.

“These are… amazing,” you said, your voice soft with genuine awe.

He shifted beside you, his shoulder brushing yours lightly. “They’re just sketches,” he muttered, clearly uncomfortable with the praise. “Nothing special.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” you said, flipping to another page. Your breath caught as you took in the next drawing.

It was a figure—a girl, standing in a grocery store aisle. Her expression was contemplative, almost pensive, as she squinted at something in her hand. Though the strokes were light and the details subtle, it was unmistakably you.

“This is…” you started, trailing off as you stared at the page. “This is me.”

He didn’t answer immediately. You looked over at him, catching the faint flush creeping up his neck as he kept his gaze fixed firmly on the water.

“I just—” He swallowed hard, his words halting and rushed. “I saw you at the store. You looked… interesting. And I guess I just… remembered.”

“Interesting?” you echoed, your lips curving into a faint smile despite the strange fluttering in your chest.

He sighed, running a hand through his damp curls. “I don’t know. You were squinting at that list, and I thought it was funny. And… I don’t know,” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just drew it, okay?”

You looked back at the sketch, your fingers brushing lightly over the page, careful not to smudge it. “You’re really talented,” you said softly.

He didn’t respond, his gaze still fixed somewhere in the distance. The silence stretched, filled only by the gentle sound of the waves and Cannibal’s occasional huff of contentment.

Finally, you closed the notebook carefully and held it out to him. “Thank you,” you said. “For letting me see.”

He took it, his fingers brushing yours briefly. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled, tucking the notebook under his arm.

But it didn’t feel like nothing—not to you.

“You never told me your name,” you said after a beat, your voice breaking the quiet.

He blinked as if the question had startled him. His green eyes flickered toward yours before darting away again.“Lucerys,” he said, his voice so soft you almost didn’t catch it.

“Lucerys,” you repeated, the syllables unfamiliar but captivating. “I’ve never heard that name before.”

He shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Most people just call me Luke.”

You nodded, testing it out. “Luke.”

“You’re really talented,” you continued, hoping to ease his obvious discomfort. “Do you do this a lot? Draw people?”

“Not really,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know why I… I just thought you looked…” He trailed off, his voice faltering.

“Looked like what?” you prompted gently.

Lucerys glanced at you, his green eyes meeting yours for a fleeting second before darting away. “I don’t know,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You just… stood out.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, the honesty in them catching you off guard. “Well,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, “I’m glad you did.”

He didn’t respond, but the faintest hint of a smile curved his lips, there and gone in an instant.

"You're quite far from home... on Rosemary Lane," he said, his voice trailing off as he stared into the distance.

"How do you know that?" you questioned, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

Lucerys turned to look at you, his expression a mix of surprise and hesitation. "Well, you... um. You asked me for directions about two weeks ago, I think," he replied, his voice quieter now. A hint of regret crossed his face as if he wished he hadn't mentioned it. The way he spoke suggested he was nervous about admitting he remembered such a smalldetail.

Lucerys shifted, his fingers brushing the edge of his notebook as if to ground himself. “I didn’t mean to sound… weird or anything,” he added quickly, glancing at you with a flicker of uncertainty in his green eyes.

You smiled softly, your curiosity easing into something warmer. “It’s not weird. I guess I should’ve remembered you too.”

He looked down at his lap, a faint flush creeping up his neck. “I wasn’t that memorable.”

“Maybe you were,” you countered, your tone gentle but teasing. “I just didn’t know it at the time.”

Lucerys blinked at you, startled by the unexpected honesty in your voice. For a moment, his lips parted as if to say something, but then he just nodded toward the empty stretch of sand behind you. “You need a ride back? It’s getting late,” he offered, the words rushed but earnest.

You hesitated, glancing back toward the shoreline. The sun had already dipped low, casting long shadows over the waves. Cannibal barked once, as if in agreement, wagging his tail beside you.

“Sure,” you said, brushing the sand from your legs. “If you don’t mind.”

Lucerys stood, tucking his notebook under one arm. “It’s not far. My car is parked up the road.”

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, Cannibal trotting ahead as the faint hum of cicadas filled the warm evening air. When you reached the car, an old, slightly battered Mercury parked along the narrow road, Lucerys opened the passenger door for you without a word.

“Nice car,” you said with a small smile, sliding into the seat.

“It’s my mom’s,” he replied, rounding to the driver’s side. “She’d probably kill me if she knew I took it.”

The engine rumbled to life, and the radio crackled as he fiddled with the dials. Static gave way to the familiar, haunting intro of a song you knew all too well—Crush by Ethel Cain.

The melancholy melody filled the small space, and for a while, neither of you spoke. The road stretched out ahead, flanked by trees swaying gently in the evening breeze.

You couldn’t help it—you started humming along to the tune, your voice quiet but steady. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Lucerys glance at you.

“What?” you asked, your cheeks warming under his gaze.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, his voice soft. But when you turned to look at him, his expression had shifted. The usual guardedness in his green eyes was gone, replaced by something softer, something you couldn’t quite name.

The song played on, the lyrics wrapping around the moment like a fragile thread. Lucerys tapped his fingers lightly against the steering wheel, the ghost of a smile flickering across his face as he watched the road.

“You sing,” he said after a moment, almost like an observation rather than a question.

“Not really,” you replied, laughing lightly. “Just… when I like the song.”

He nodded, his gaze briefly flicking to you again before returning to the road. “It suits you.”

You tilted your head, confused. “What does?”

“This song,” he said, his voice quiet but certain. “I don’t know why… but it just does.”

You didn’t reply, unsure of what to say. The air between you felt charged, filled with unspoken words and something deeper you couldn’t quite put into words.

As the song swelled, its haunting refrain filling the car, you found yourself stealing a glance at him. His profile was illuminated by the golden glow of the setting sun, and for the first time, you saw Lucerys not as the quiet boy with walls around his heart, but as someone reaching out, even if he didn’t realize it.

And in that moment, you let the music fill the silence, the connection between you as fragile and fleeting as the last notes of the song.

The car slowed as the familiar sight of your great-aunt’s house came into view. The warm glow from the porch light spilt across the front yard, and you could already hear the faint bark of Cannibal, who had bounded ahead as soon as Lucerys pulled over near the driveway.

He cut the engine, and for a moment, the world seemed unnervingly quiet. The melody of Crush still hummed faintly in your mind, but whatever thread had connected the two of you during the ride felt like it had been severed.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, your voice soft as you reached for the door handle.

“Yeah,” he replied, his tone clipped, the warmth he’d shown earlier now buried under a familiar layer of restraint.

You hesitated, glancing at him. His hands gripped the steering wheel loosely, but his eyes stayed fixed ahead, staring at the house as if it were something distant and unimportant.

“Do you…” You trailed off, unsure of what you were even asking. Finally, you settled for, “Do you want to come in?"

Lucerys shook his head almost immediately. “No. I should go.” There was no bite to his words, just a quiet finality that made your chest tighten.

“Okay,” you said softly, your hand lingering on the door. For a second, you thought about pressing him—asking why healways seemed to retreat just when things felt real—but something about the tension in his shoulders told you he wouldn’tanswer. At least, not tonight.

You opened the door, stepping out into the cool night air. The sound of crickets and distant waves filled the space left by his silence. Cannibal barked from the porch, his tail wagging furiously as if calling you home.

Turning back, you leaned into the open window. “You know, you can stop by if you ever want to. My aunt makes killer pie.”

Lucerys glanced at you then, his green eyes catching the faint glow of the porch light. For a moment, you thought he might smile again, but instead, he just nodded. “Maybe,” he said quietly.

It wasn’t a promise.

You stepped back, watching as the car rolled out of the driveway, its taillights disappearing down the road.

Cannibal whined softly, nudging your leg as you climbed the steps to the porch. You gave him a reassuring pat, but your mind was elsewhere—still in the car, still sitting beside the boy whose walls felt impenetrable.

Inside, your great-aunt greeted you warmly, the smell of freshly baked bread wafting from the kitchen. But even as you settled in, the house feeling as cosy and safe as ever, your thoughts kept circling back to Lucerys.

The way he had looked at you when the song played. The way he had shut himself off the moment you’d arrived.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever let you see the parts of himself he kept locked away—or if he was already too far out of reach.

"You look distraught, my darling. Would you like me to read your cards?" Glorina's voice was gentle, a soft nudge trying to pull you out of the whirlwind of thoughts that swirled in your mind, all circling around him—Lucerys.

"If you want to..." The words slipped from your lips reluctantly. You didn’t have the heart to turn her away, even though the last thing you needed right now was another card depicting dismal outcomes. With a resigned sigh, you knocked three times on the worn card pack, handing the control over to her as if that simple act could somehow change your fate.

Glorina shuffled the deck, her fingers moving effortlessly over the worn edges until she laid three cards face-up on the table. The first one was the Seven of Pentacles reversed, its imagery twisted and bleak. Next was the Two of Swords, depicting a figure blindfolded and balanced precariously between two choices. Finally, there was the Three of Swords, a stark illustration showing a heart pierced by three sharp blades.

You leaned back in your chair, letting out a long sigh, your fingers rubbing your temples in frustration. "Let me guess... nothing good, huh?"

Glorina’s expression turned serious as she examined the cards. "You feel trapped and powerless, don’t you? Are you trying to avoid something?" Her brow arched, probing deeper. "You need to make a decision and face the situation head-on." Her words hung in the air, heavy with foreboding.

"Either way, I’ll get hurt..." you murmured, your eyes lingering on the card with the three swords through the heart—a painful reminder of your current turmoil. Feeling the weight of the reading press down on you, you quickly finished your dinner, the taste as bland as the evening felt.

With a sense of urgency, you retreated to your room, a storm of emotions brewing inside. Maybe, just maybe, screaming into a pillow would bring you some relief from the ache in your chest.

Tossing and turning, sleep eludes you once again. This simply won’t do. Despite the pouring rain, a wild urge pushes you to the docks, the town's most recognizable spot. You sprint there in your flimsy white dress, a picture of a maiden lost in her thoughts.

As you approach the docks, the boathouse comes into view on the empty pier. It’s the one that belongs to Glorina’s late husband's brother’s son, always welcoming with its open door—one of the perks of living in a small town where everyone knows each other. The raindrops fall harder, and the thunder rumbles in the distance. Logic tells you to stay away from the water during a storm, but your mind isn’t listening right now.

You burst into the wooden boathouse, breathless and soaked to the skin. Your dress clings to you, heavy and dripping, but the warm summer air wraps around you like a comforting blanket, chasing away any chill. You pause for a moment, taking in the scent of wet wood mixed with the sharp tang of the sea. It feels almost like a refuge from the storm outside.

You hadn’t expected anyone to be here, but the faint creak of wood under shifting weight made you freeze in place.

At first, you thought it was just the wind rattling the old structure, but then you saw him—Lucerys. He was seated near the far corner, his long legs stretched out in front of him, a sketchbook balanced on his knees. A dim lantern sat beside him, casting flickering shadows across his face, making his green eyes glow eerily in the dim light.

He looked up sharply, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw you. For a second, neither of you moved. The only sound was the rain hammering against the roof, the storm outside mirroring the chaos inside you.

“You’re soaked,” he said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was quiet, but there was an edge of concern in it.

You looked down at yourself, noticing how your dress clung to your skin like a second layer. “Yeah. I guess I am,” you replied, your voice trembling—not from the cold, but from the sheer force of everything you’d been bottling up.

Lucerys set his sketchbook aside, standing slowly. His movements were tentative like he wasn’t sure if he should come closer or keep his distance. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I just… needed to get out. Clear my head.”

“In a storm?” His tone wasn’t scolding, but there was a thread of disbelief in it.

You shrugged, looking away. “Didn’t think that far ahead.”

Lucerys sighed, running a hand through his damp curls. He hesitated before shrugging off his hoodie and holding it out to you. “Here,” he said, his voice softer now. “You’re gonna catch a cold.”

You stared at him for a moment, the gesture so simple yet so uncharacteristically kind that it left you momentarily speechless. Slowly, you reached out and took the hoodie, your fingers brushing against his.

“Thanks,” you murmured, wrapping it around your shoulders. It was warm and smelled faintly of pine and something distinctly him—clean, familiar, and comforting.

He sat back down, leaning against the wall as he watched you carefully. “Why here?” he asked after a moment, his gaze unwavering.

You hesitated, unsure how much to say. “I don’t know,” you admitted finally, sitting down on a nearby crate. “It felt safe, I guess.”

Lucerys nodded slowly as if he understood. “Yeah. It does.”

The silence between you was thick but not uncomfortable. The sound of the rain pounding on the roof and the occasional rumble of thunder filled the space, giving you both an excuse not to speak.

“Do you ever feel like…” You trailed off, unsure how to put your thoughts into words. But when Lucerys turned to look at you, his expression expectant, you forced yourself to continue. “Like you’re stuck? Like no matter what you do, you’rejust… trapped?”

Lucerys’ jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer. But then he said, “Yeah. All the time. I don’tthink I’m good at being what people want me to be.”

His words hung in the air, raw and unguarded, and they made your chest tighten.

“What do they want you to be?” you asked, your voice gentle but cautious.

He exhaled, shaking his head. “Perfect. Or something close to it. Jace—he’s my older brother—he’s always talking about responsibility, about doing what’s expected. About how I need to ‘step up.’” His voice dipped, bitterness creeping into his tone. “Like I don’t already know that.”

You leaned forward slightly, trying to catch his gaze. “That’s not fair to you.”

He gave a short, humourless laugh. “Yeah, well, life’s not fair. My mom… she doesn’t say it, but I know she’s counting on me. To hold things together. To be… good enough.”

“Good enough for who?”

“For them,” he said simply, his voice breaking slightly. “For my family. For everyone.”

He glanced at you then, the weight of his words pulling down on his green eyes. “You ever feel like you’re running, but no matter how fast you go, you’re still stuck in the same place?”

The honesty in his voice left you momentarily speechless. You nodded slowly. “Yeah,” you said softly. “I think I know what that feels like.”

He looked away again, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “I don’t let people in,” he admitted, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain. “Because every time I do… they leave.”

“Not everyone leaves,” you said instinctively, the words slipping out before you could think about them.

Lucerys’s gaze snapped back to yours, sharp and searching. “They do,” he said firmly. “My dad. People I thought were my friends. They always leave.”

The vulnerability in his voice made your throat tighten. You wanted to tell him he was wrong, that you wouldn’t leave, but the words caught in your throat. How could you promise something you weren’t even sure you could keep?

“I think…” you began hesitantly, “Sometimes people leave because they don’t know how to stay. Not because of you.”

Lucerys stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, his lips twisted into a faint, bitter smile. “Maybe. But it doesn’t change anything. It’s just easier to keep everyone at a distance.”

You hesitated, your fingers curling around the edge of the crate you were sitting on. “That’s a lonely way to live,” you said softly.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “It is.”

The rain continued to drum against the roof, the sound filling the heavy silence between you. You wanted to reach out, to tell him you were different, but the fear of saying something wrong kept you frozen.

Finally, you asked, “So why’d you let me in?”

Lucerys looked startled, his lips parting slightly before he quickly averted his gaze. “I didn’t,” he said, his voice quiet.“Not really.”

“You sketched me,” you pointed out, your voice firmer now. “That has to mean something.”

His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his sketchbook, his shoulders tense. “I don’t know why I did that,” he muttered.“You just… stood out. In the store.”

Lucerys’s gaze flickered to yours, and for a moment, the mask he always wore seemed to slip. The boy behind the walls, raw and unguarded, looked back at you, his green eyes filled with something that felt achingly familiar—fear, hope, and a longing he didn’t know how to name.

But just as quickly, the moment was gone. He shook his head, letting out a shaky breath. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this,”

Lucerys didn’t say anything else after that. He stared out at the storm as if it might offer him answers, his green eyes fixed on a point far beyond the boathouse walls. The rain hammered against the roof, a relentless rhythm that matched the heavy pounding of your heart.

You sat in silence, unsure of what else to say. The vulnerability he’d just shown you was raw and rare, and you didn’twant to push too hard. Still, the ache in his voice lingered in your mind, pulling at something deep inside you.

Finally, Lucerys let out a breath, running a hand through his damp curls. “You should get back,” he said, his voice quiet.“It’s late.”

You frowned, reluctant to leave him like this. “I don’t mind staying.”

He glanced at you, his brows knitting together. “It’s pouring outside.”

“You don’t say,” you replied with a faint smile, gesturing to your soaked dress. “I think I noticed.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips before disappearing just as quickly. “I’m serious. You’ll get sick.”

“So will you, sitting here with your wet clothes.” You tilted your head toward him, challenging. “Unless you want me to go and leave you to brood by yourself?”

Lucerys sighed, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him again. “I’m fine,” he said, though his tone lacked conviction. “This isn’t the first storm I’ve sat through.”

“Maybe not,” you said softly. “But you shouldn’t have to sit through it alone.”

For a moment, Lucerys didn’t respond. He stared at you, his green eyes flickering with something unreadable—confusion, maybe, or disbelief. Then, almost unnoticeably, he nodded toward the crate beside him.

“Suit yourself,” he said, his voice low.

You smiled faintly, moving to sit closer to him. The wood creaked beneath you as you settled in, the two of you side by side in the dim light of the lantern.

The silence stretched, but it didn’t feel heavy this time. The storm outside seemed to soften, the rain still steady but less urgent, as though the world was giving you both a moment to breathe.

“You know,” you said after a while, your voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t think you’re as alone as you think you are.”

Lucerys turned to look at you, his brows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you said, meeting his gaze, “you’ve got people who care about you. Even if they don’t say it the right way, or even if they mess it up sometimes.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he let out a quiet laugh, though it was more bitter than amused. “You don’t know them.”

“No,” you admitted. “But I know you. A little, at least.”

Lucerys blinked, caught off guard by your words. He opened his mouth as if to argue, then closed it again, shaking his head.

“You’re different,” he said finally, his voice soft. “I don’t know why, but… you are.”

The vulnerability in his words made your chest tighten, and you found yourself leaning closer to him, the space between you narrowing. “Is that a bad thing?” you asked, your voice barely audible over the rain and thunder.

Lucerys hesitated, his green eyes locked on yours. For a moment, you thought he might retreat, and put his walls back up. But then he shook his head, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper.

“No,” he said. “It’s not.”

The two of you sat there, the storm raging outside and the warmth of his presence grounding you. The walls of the boathouse seemed to fade away, leaving only the soft rhythm of your breaths and the steady hum of the rain.

His gaze lingered on your face, tracing the curves of your cheekbones and the fullness of your lips as if committing every detail to memory. The air between you felt charged, heavy with a tension he didn't understand but couldn't ignore.

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a feather-light touch. His skin was warm, his touch gentle yet tinged with a barely restrained intensity. Your breath hitched at the contact, a shiver running down your spine that had nothing to do with the dampness of your dress.

Lucerys' eyes flickered to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze, darkening with an emotion he couldn't quite name. The space between you seemed to shrink, the storm outside fading into insignificance compared to the electricity crackling in the air.

You just sat there, gazing at him with wide, hopeful eyes. Fear clutched at you, making it hard to find your voice. You worried that even a whisper might shatter this fragile moment and drive Luke back behind the tall walls he had built around his heart. You parted your lips slightly, a soft, shaky sigh escaping as you became lost in the deep, warm intensity of his gaze. The room felt charged with unspoken feelings, and time seemed to slow, wrapping around you both.

Lucerys sat frozen, his heart pounding as he gazed at you with wonder and trepidation. The air between you thrummed with palpable energy, the unspoken words and feelings hanging heavy in the dim light of the lantern.

Slowly, as if drawn by an invisible force, he leaned closer, his face mere inches from yours. His breath mingled with your own.

Time seemed to hold its breath, the rain and thunder fading into a distant murmur as Lucerys reached up with a trembling hand, his fingers grazing your jawline with the lightest touches. His gaze flicked down to your lips, lingering there for a long, charged moment before meeting your eyes once more.

"Tell me to stop," he breathed, his voice low and rough with an emotion he couldn't quite articulate. "Please, tell me to stop…"

But even as he said the words, he made no move to pull away, his body radiating a heat that seeped into your skin through the damp fabric of your dress. The intensity of his gaze held you captive, the depth of feeling in those green eyes making your heart race and your pulse pound in your ears.

You could see the battle raging within him, the war between the part of him that yearned to close the distance and the part that feared the consequences of surrendering to this overwhelming pull. The air crackled with tension, the moment stretching between you like a taut bowstring, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

Lucerys swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he fought for control. But the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable, the longing for connection, for intimacy, for something more than the fleeting glances and stilted conversation you'd shared thus far. It was a longing he'd suppressed for so long, a desire he'd never dared to voice aloud.

"Please…" he whispered again, his voice breaking on the word as his gaze searched yours, silently pleading for guidance.

"Don't stop," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. You could hardly catch your breath, your chest heaving with the effort of drawing air.

You leaned in. Your heart slammed against your ribcage, urging you to close the remaining distance, to answer his unspoken question with a kiss.

But you held back, trembling on the knife's edge of surrender, waiting for him to take the final step. Your body thrummed with fear and exhilaration, every nerve ending alight with sensation.

Lucerys's breath hitched as your words reached his ears, the soft whisper settling over him like a balm. The tension in his shoulders eased, the fight draining out of him as the last of his reservations crumbled away. Your permission, your encouragement, was all the invitation he needed to surrender.

Unable to resist any longer, Lucerys surged forward, closing the scant distance between you in a heartbeat. His lips met yours in a searing kiss that sent electricity through your veins. It was a kiss filled with pent-up longing and barely restrained desire.

One large hand cupped your cheek, his calloused palm warm and slightly rough against the smooth skin. The other hand settled on your waist, his fingers splaying across the damp fabric of your dress, tugging you closer. His body was hard and solid against your own, the muscles of his chest and abdomen pressing into the soft curves of your figure.

Lost in the intensity of the moment, you found yourself melting against him, your curves moulding to the hard planes of his body. Your fingers curled into the damp fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself to him as the world tilted and spun. The storm outside faded into insignificance, the only sound was the harsh rasp of his breathing and the pounding of your own pulse in your ears.

Lucerys kissed you like a man starved, pouring weeks' worth of longing and desire into the single, searing embrace. His lips crashed against yours again and again, each kiss more desperate than the last, as if he feared this moment would slip away and leave him bereft once more. The weight of his desire was a palpable thing, the heat of his skin searing you even through the barrier of your clothing.

Your breath came in short, sharp gasps between kisses, your lungs burning with the need for air. But you were dizzy with the taste of him, the feel of his strong body pinning you in place, the heat of his skin seeping through the damp fabric of his shirt. You clung to him, your fingers fisting in the worn cotton.

In between the fierce, hungry kisses, he peppered your jaw, your neck, the sensitive skin just behind your ear with far softer ones. His breath was hot against your flesh, his lips and tongue painting a scorching trail down the column of your throat.

"Need… more…" Lucerys panted against your skin, his voice low and needy. "Need to feel… need to touch…"

His hands slid down to your thighs, gripping them possessively as he hitched your legs up and around his waist, pulling you into his lap. The new position pressed your most intimate places against him, the heat of his arousal burning through the last of your defences.

A breathless moan escaped you as his hands gripped your thighs, hiking your dress up and pulling you astride him. The new position sent a jolt of white-hot need straight to your core. You could feel every hard, muscular inch of him pressed against you, igniting a hunger you never knew you had.

Your eyes fluttered closed, drunk on the feeling of his hands on your skin and his breath on your neck. The world narrowed down to the electric sensation of his touch, the pounding of your hearts, and the ragged sound of your breathing mingling in the charged air between you. You arched into him, your soft curves pressed against him.

Lucerys's fingers trembled as they slid up your thighs, pushing the damp fabric of your dress out of the way. His touch was feather-light, almost reverent as if he were worshipping every inch of newly exposed skin. He swallowed hard, drinking in the sight of you straddling his lap, your dress rucked up around your waist.

As his fingers brushed against the lace of your undergarments, he heard you gasp, the sound sending a jolt of electricity straight to his core.

His hands settled on your hips, gripping them gently, almost hesitantly, as if seeking permission. He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with your own.

"I want to touch you," he whispered, his voice low and rough with a need he could hardly articulate.

He leaned in, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to the hollow of your throat, to the sensitive skin beneath your jaw. Each kiss was a question, a silent plea for more, for permission to explore the depths of this newfound desire.

You admired his beauty, his dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he gazed at you with hunger and desire.

Slowly, hesitantly, you slid my fingers through his soft curls, gently tugging, drunk on the feeling of his skin beneath your touch. Your heart raced as his hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer.

Lucerys shuddered as your fingers raked through his hair, his eyes fluttering closed at the sensation. The gentle tugging of your fingers ignited something primal in him, a hunger that clawed at his insides, demanding to be fed.

He surged forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. His tongue delved into the warm cavern of your mouth, stroking along the soft flesh, tasting you, consuming you.

"Tell me," he gasped against your lips, "tell me what you want."

Breathless, you gazed into Luke's intense, searching eyes. "You," I breathed, your lips brushing against his. "I need you." Your voice trembled with nerves and desire, your body aching for his touch.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked softly, his grip on your hips loosening slightly as if giving you a chance to change your mind. "We shouldn't… not here, not like this."

Lucerys hesitated for a moment, his brows furrowing as a flicker of doubt crossed his face. He searched your eyes, looking for any sign of hesitation or uncertainty, any reason to pull back. But seeing only the reflection of his desire staring back at him, he knew he could not deny either of you any longer.

With a low, almost pained sound in the back of his throat, Lucerys stood, easily lifting you into his arms. He cradled you against his chest, holding you close as he carried you towards the old bed in the corner of the boathouse.

As he loomed over you, his gaze drank you in, taking in the way your hair splayed out across the pillow, the rise and fall of your breasts with each shallow breath. It was evident he was both thrilled and terrified to be here, caught somewhere between boyish enthusiasm and a deep, fierce desire.

Your heart fluttered wildly in your chest as you gazed at Lucerys through the dim light filtering in through the small window. You felt shy suddenly, like that giddy teenage girl you thought you had left behind.

"Lucerys," you breathed out, hesitantly reaching up to cup his cheek. His skin was warm beneath your trembling fingers. "Are you… so?" you asked lamely, words escaping you.

You searched his green eyes. A blush crept across your cheeks as you realized how intimate this moment felt, how vulnerable you both were.

Lucerys leaned into your touch, his skin warm and slightly rough beneath your soft fingers. He covered your hand with his own, turning his head to press a gentle kiss to your palm, his lips lingering against your skin.

"No," he admitted softly, his voice low and slightly rough with emotion. "I'm not. I've never… I mean, I want to, with you. More than anything. But…" He trailed off, swallowing hard as he tried to find the right words.

Lucerys took a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes flickering away from yours for a moment as he struggled to express the fears and doubts that still lingered in the back of his mind.

Without voicing his thoughts, Lucerys leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, searching kiss. His hands began to wander over your curves, mapping the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hips.

Each touch was tentative at first, as if seeking permission, before growing bolder, more confident. He tugged gently at the neckline of your dress, exposing more of your soft skin to his hungry gaze. His breath grew ragged as he explored your body, marvelling at the way you responded to his touch.

Your body tingled everywhere his fingers grazed your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You arched into his touch, craving more, as a breathy whimper escaped your kiss-swollen lips. It felt too intimate, too perfect, like a scene from a romance novel. Being here with Luke, tucked away in this cosy boathouse as the storm raged outside, just the two of you…

"Luke…" you breathed out, your cheeks flushed and heart racing as you gazed up at him through heavy lids. "You can take it off," you whispered, hardly believing the bold words leaving your own lips. Your pulse hammered in your throat.

Lucerys's breath grew ragged as he slowly, almost reverently, began to peel the fabric up your thighs, inch by excruciating inch. His fingertips brushed against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps and igniting sparks of electricity in their wake.

"Tell me if you need me to stop," he breathed, his voice rough with emotion and the effort of holding himself back. His eyes never left yours, searching, seeking, desperate for any sign that he was doing this right.

You nod softly, your eyes wide and trusting as they meet his gaze. A soft, breathy "I don't want you to stop," falls from your lips as you lean into his touch, craving more.

Lucerys swallowed hard at your breathy words, feeling a surge of heat rush through him at the trust and desire he saw shining in your eyes. He leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to stroke along yours, tasting you, consuming you.

His hands slid up to the hem of your dress, bunching the fabric in his fists as he slowly, teasingly, drew it up and over your head. He broke the kiss just long enough to tug the garment off and toss it carelessly aside, his eyes hungrily drinking in the sight of your bare skin.

"Beautiful," he breathed, his voice low and rough with a need he could hardly articulate. His calloused hands skimmed over your curves, mapping every dip and swell, committing each inch of your skin to memory. He cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over the hardened peaks of your nipples, drawing a gasp from your throat.

You could feel the heat of his skin, the strength of his hands on your bare flesh, yet you yearned for more. An imbalance lingered between you, one you suddenly needed to correct.

"I… I want to see you too," you breathed out, your voice small but filled with hesitant courage. Your words were a plea, a soft, intimate request as you traced the firm line of his chest through his shirt.

A flicker of uncertainty crossed his handsome features, and you realized he was still guarding himself, keeping a part of himself hidden behind the fabric. You needed to bridge that gap between you, to break down the last of the walls he'd built.

Lucerys hesitated, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes as he gazed down at you. The uncertainty was palpable, the weight of his past and his fears threatening to overwhelm him. But as he drank in the sight of you, bare and wanting beneath him, he knew he could not deny you this.

Almost shyly, he reached for the hem of his shirt, slowly peeling the damp fabric over his head. He tossed it aside, leaving him bare from the waist up. The moonlight through the window cast a silver glow over his skin, highlighting the lean muscles and the scattering of freckles across his chest.

Lucerys's chest was toned, the muscles defined and strong from years of flying and training. A thin line of dark hair trailed down from his chest, disappearing beneath the waistband of his breeches. His skin was slightly flushed, a light sheen of sweat glistening in the dim light.

You gazed up at Lucerys, your heart pounding as you took in the sight of his bare torso. He looked like a Sea God standing before you, all lean muscle and tanned skin. You wanted to tell him how breathtaking he looked, how the sight of him stole the very air from your lungs, but the words stuck in your throat.

Instead, you reached out tentatively, placing your cold fingers on his stomach. You could feel the heat of his skin, the firmness of his muscles beneath your touch. Lucerys shuddered slightly at the contact, his breath hitching softly. Emboldened, you ran your hands up his chest, admiring the way his skin felt beneath your fingertips, the way his heart raced beneath his ribs.

His breath came faster, each inhale and exhale more ragged than the last as your hands explored his body with a boldness he hadn't expected.

He caught your wrist as your hand reached his navel, his fingers curling around yours and holding it still against his skin.

Lucerys gazed down at you, his green eyes dark and intense in the dim light. He swallowed hard, his tongue darting to wet his suddenly dry lips.

"Please," he breathed out, his voice low and rough with a desperation he could no longer hide. "Touch me."

His hand slid from your wrist to your elbow, his fingers trailing up your arm until he could tangle them with yours. He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a fervent kiss to your palm before trailing his mouth to the inside of your wrist, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin.

Your heart raced as Luke's lips brushed against your wrist, the intimate gesture sending a shiver down your spine. You couldn't help but gasp, the sound catching in your throat.

Emboldened by his plea, your hand drifted lower, tracing the line of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. You could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the firmness of his stomach muscles tensing under your touch.

Your fingers dipped just slightly beneath the waistband of his jeans, teasing the sensitive skin there.

Lucerys's abdomen clenched, muscles jerking beneath your teasing touch. A strangled groan escaped his lips, his hips jerking forward slightly as if seeking more contact. His grip on your wrist tightened, fingers curling around your arm instinctively.

Lucerys's breath was coming in short, sharp gasps now, his chest heaving with the effort of holding himself back. He was painfully hard, his arousal straining against the confines of his jeans. The denim was rough and coarse against his aching flesh, a contrast to the softness of your skin.

"More," he gasped out, his voice desperate and needy. "Please, I need… I need to feel you." His other hand slid down to cover yours, guiding it to the button of his jeans. With shaking fingers, he helped you pop the button open, the sound seeming to echo obscenely loud in the charged air between you.

You gazed up at Lucerys through your lashes, a soft smile playing at the corners of your mouth. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you slowly, teasingly, pulled down his zipper.

"You'll need to take these off," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Fear gripped your heart, a lingering uncertainty that he might still decide to leave at any moment. You longed to feel every inch of his skin against yours, to banish the last of the distance between you.

But you were still shy, still hesitant, unsure if you dared to believe this was truly happening.

Lucerys swallowed hard, his heart hammering against his ribs as he gazed down at you. The way you looked up at him, the shy smile playing at your lips, sent a bolt of longing straight to his core.

With trembling hands, he stood and shimmied out of his jeans, kicking them off to the side. He hesitated for a moment, standing before you in nothing but his boxers, before hooking his thumbs under the waistband and slowly pulling them down.

His breath hitched as the fabric slid over his aching arousal, his length springing free to stand proud and hard before him. He could feel your eyes on him, drinking in every inch of newly exposed skin, and he fought the urge to cover himself, to hide away from your heated look.

Your breath caught in your throat as you drank in the sight of Luke's naked form. You could feel your heart pounding wildly, a fluttering sensation in your stomach as you openly admired his masculine beauty.

With trembling fingers, you reached for the waistband of your knickers, slowly peeling the damp fabric down your thighs. You lifted your hips, pulling the garment off and tossing it carelessly to the growing pile of clothing on the floor.

Lucerys's eyes darkened with desire as he watched you remove the last barrier between your bodies. His gaze raked over your naked form, taking in every dip and curve, committing each detail to memory. He felt a surge of possessiveness, a fierce need to claim and worship and cherish every inch of you.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Lucerys leaned down, covering your body with his own. The feel of your bare skin against his was electric, sending a jolt of sensation racing through his veins. He shuddered, a low groan escaping his lips as he settled his hips between your thighs.

Lucerys's length, hard and heavy, nestled against your core. The heat of him seared you, the thick length of him throbbing against your most sensitive flesh. He rocked slowly, rubbing himself against you, coating his arousal in your slick heat.

His lips found yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. His hands slid down to grip your hips, holding you in place as he rolled against you, the friction delicious and maddening all at once. He swallowed your soft cries, his own breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps against your skin.

"Lucerys," you gasped, breaking free from the kiss to catch your breath. Your hands clawed at his back, nails digging into his skin, leaving angry red marks in their wake. The feeling of his hard length rubbing against your aching core was driving you wild with lust. You arched your back, pressing your body flush against his muscular frame as you panted softly.

Lucerys shuddered as your nails raked down his back, leaving red lines of passion in their wake. He groaned, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as he felt your body arch beneath his own, pressing against him with wanton desperation.

You could feel every thick, pulsing inch of him, and a flicker of fear raced through you at the realization of his impressive size. You knew it would hurt at first, stretching you, filling you.

"Please," you begged, your voice ragged and desperate as you bucked your hips against his, seeking more of that delicious friction. "Use your fingers first, Luke. I need… I need you to prepare me. I can't… I can't take all of you yet."

"Shh, it's alright," he murmured softly, his voice low and soothing. "I've got you. I'm going to take care of you."

His fingers teased along your entrance, stroking and caressing, before slowly sinking inside. He took his time, letting you adjust to the new sensation, before beginning to pump his fingers in and out of you. He curled them, rubbing against that spot deep inside that made your toes curl and your back arch off the bed.

Lucerys could feel how tight you were, your walls clenching around his invading fingers. He could only imagine how incredible it would feel to sink his length into your welcoming heat, to feel you enveloping him like a velvet glove. But he knew he had to be patient, had to take his time and make sure you were ready for him.

Your breath came in soft, needy gasps as you gazed up at Luke through hooded, half-lidded eyes.

"Mmm," you whimpered out, your voice breathy and quiet. "So good."

Your hips undulated against his hand as he worked his finger inside you, your body responding instinctively to his touch. You could feel yourself getting wetter, your arousal coating his finger as he pumped it in and out of your tight heat.

"Mmm, you feel so good," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. "So tight and hot and perfect."

He added a second finger, then a third, stretching you slowly. His palm pressed against your mound, applying delicious pressure as he fingered you, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Tell me how it feels," he panted, his own arousal throbbing and aching with the need to be buried inside you. "Tell me what you need."

Lucerys paused, his fingers still buried deep inside your warmth. He gazed down at you, green eyes intense and searching as they roamed your flushed face. His thumb circled your sensitive pearl, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

"I want…" You trailed off, suddenly shy, before taking a deep breath and meeting his gaze. "I want you inside me. I'm ready now."

Lucerys swallowed hard, his heart pounding against his ribs at your boldly spoken words. He could hardly believe this was happening, that you wanted this as much as he did. With shaking hands, he reached down to grasp himself, aligning the broad head of his arousal with your dripping entrance.

He hesitated for a moment, giving you one last chance to change your mind. But when no protest came, he began to slowly push forward, the thick length of him parting your folds and sinking inch by delicious inch into your tight, welcoming heat.

Lucerys's breath caught in his throat at the exquisite sensation, his brows furrowing as he struggled to hold himself back. He could feel every pulse and quiver of your walls around him, gripping him like a vice.

"Oh gods," he gasped out, his voice strained. "You feel… you feel incredible."

"Ohh, fuck," a ragged cry tore from your throat as Luke drove his thick length deep inside you, stretching you around him. Your head fell against the pillow, hair fanning around you as you arched into him. You'd had lovers before, but none as well-endowed as him. He was so big, so hard, filling you utterly.

"Move, please, Luke," you mewled wantonly, your nails digging into his back. You needed him to move, to claim you utterly. The anticipation was driving you mad with lust.

Lucerys groaned as he felt your nails digging into his back, urging him on. He knew he should go slow, and take his time, but the way you were arching into him, the desperate pleas falling from your lips, made it impossible to hold back.

With a low growl, he began to move, his hips pulling back so only the tip remained inside you before surging forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your dripping cunt. He set a steady rhythm, each thrust driving the breath from your lungs, each retreat leaving you aching and empty until he filled you again.

Lucerys braced himself on his elbows, his strong arms trembling slightly from the new sensations. He gazed down at you, his eyes dark and intense, drinking in the way your face flushed with pleasure, the way your breasts bounced with each powerful thrust.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss as he drove himself deeper, harder, faster. His hands slid under your thighs, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist as he loomed over you, his powerful body blanketing yours.

"Mmm, you feel so good inside me Luke. S-so deep."

Your fingers trembled as you cupped his chiselled jaw, pulling his face closer to yours. You drank in the sight of his handsome features, the stark contrast of your soft, delicate hands against his masculine face.

"Don't stop," you whimpered. "F-feel every inch of you, stretching me…" Your words trailed off into a soft moan as he hit a particularly sensitive spot inside you, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your nerves.

Lucerys shuddered as your fingers trembled against his jaw, your breathless praise sending a thrill down his spine. He nuzzled into your touch, his lips brushing against your palm as he gazed down at you with hooded eyes.

"Never…" he panted, his voice low and rough with desire. "Never want to stop. Feel… feel too good. So tight. So perfect."

"You're doing so good," you praised breathlessly, pulling Luke into a passionate kiss. You tugged at his lower lip, pulling it gently between your teeth.

Lucerys gasped as your teeth tugged at his lip, the sharp sensation sending a bolt of electricity straight to his groin. He shuddered, his hips stuttering for a moment before he regained his rhythm, thrusting deep and hard, filling you again and again.

Panting softly, you rested your forehead against his, gazing up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. Each deep, slow thrust sent a jolt of pleasure racing through you, drawing a moan from your lips.

"S-seems like you're the one doing all the good things," he panted, his breath mingling with yours as he pressed his forehead against yours. "Feeling you… it's… it's..."

His hands slid down to your hips, gripping them tightly as he rolled into you, grinding his pelvis against yours. He kissed you again, hungry and desperate, swallowing your moans and cries of pleasure.

You gazed up at Luke through hooded eyes a breathless giggle escaping your lips at his praise.

"Mmm, you're one to talk," you murmured, your voice low and sultry. "The way you make me feel…" nipping playfully at his jaw.

You could feel the heat building between you, the air growing thick and heavy with your mingled breaths and soft, breathy moans. You tangled your fingers in his hair, urging him closer until your lips were a mere hairsbreadth apart.

A shudder wracked through Lucerys's body as your fingers tangled in his hair, your breath mingling with his own. He could feel the heat building between your bodies, the sweat-slicked skin sliding deliciously with each powerful thrust of his hips.

"Can't… can't help it," he panted, his voice strained with the effort of holding himself back. "You're just… mmm… so responsive. So perfect."

He claimed your mouth again, kissing you deeply, his tongue delving inside to tangle with yours. One hand slid up your side, cupping the slight weight of your breast, his thumb and forefinger rolling and pinching your nipple until it pebbled beneath his touch.

Lucerys could feel the pressure building at the base of his spine, his release fast approaching. But he gritted his teeth, determined to hold off until he'd brought you to yours first. He wanted to feel your walls clench around him as you came undone, wanted to hear his name on your lips as ecstasy overtook you.

You moaned into the heated kiss, your body arching into his touch as Lucerys's fingers teased and rolled your sensitive nipple. Sparks of pleasure radiated from the point of contact, stoking the fire that was rapidly building in your core.

"Mmm," you whined as he thrust deep, your walls starting to flutter and clench around his hard, throbbing length. "Lucerys, I'm…" Your words were interrupted by a loud needy cry as he suddenly took one nipple into his mouth.

Lucerys groaned around your nipple as he heard the need in your voice, the desperation. He sucked harder, swirling his tongue around the stiff peak as he felt your walls starting to flutter and clench around him. He could tell you were close, could feel your body tensing and shaking beneath his touch.

"Touch yourself," he murmured urgently against your breast, his voice vibrating against your skin.

Your breath hitched as Lucerys's words sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you. You couldn't hold back the desperate whimper that tore from your throat, your pussy clenching around his throbbing length. His commanding tone set your nerves alight.

Shuddering, you obeyed the command, your hand drifting down the curve of your belly to the junction between your thighs. You found your clit, swollen and aching with need and began to rub tight, swift circles over the sensitive nub. The added stimulation had you seeing stars, a choked cry of ecstasy spilling from your lips.

Lucerys's hips snapped forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your clenching heat as he felt your fingers find your clit. He could feel your walls starting to ripple and squeeze around him, the sensation driving him wild with lust.

"Yes, just like that," he growled, his voice low and rough with desire. "Don't stop touching yourself. I want to feel you come undone around my cock."

He pistoned his hips faster, each thrust driving the breath from your lungs as he chased his own rapidly approaching release. One hand slid down to cover yours, his fingers tangling with your own as he guided your movements, helping you rub your clit in tight, desperate circles.

You gazed up at Luke with lust-glazed eyes, your plump lips parted in a silent scream of pleasure. Brows furrowed, you panted out between clenched teeth, "I'm… I'm so close, Luke. Don't stop."

Your fingers were under his guiding touch as you rubbed at your throbbing clit together. You could feel your walls fluttering wildly around his pistoning length, gripping him.

Lucerys could feel your walls starting to clench erratically around his throbbing cock, your body tensing as your climax approached. He could see the ecstasy playing out across your face, your lips parted, your eyes glazed with lust.

"Y-you feel… ohh," he panted, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. "I'm going to… fuck…"

He could feel the pressure building at the base of his spine, his heavy balls drawing up tight against his body as his orgasm approached. He knew he couldn't hold back for much longer.

"Lucerys," you gasped out, your voice breathy and weak. "I'm so… Ohh fuuck!" Your words dissolved into a shameless moan as the intense sensation of your climax ripped through you like a tidal wave.

Your body convulsed and shook beneath his. You could feel your release gushing out around his length, your arousal coating his shaft and dripping down onto the sheets below.

Lucerys cried out, his voice breaking with pleasure as he felt your walls clamp down around him. The sensation was too much, too intense, and with a guttural moan, he buried himself to the hilt inside you as his own release crashed over him.

His hips jerked and stuttered as he emptied himself inside you, his thick seed spurting in hot, heavy ropes against your fluttering walls. He shuddered and gasped, his body wracked with the force of his climax as he clung to you, holding you tight against him.

Panting harshly, Lucerys collapsed against you, his muscular frame blanketing your own as the last waves of his release shuddered through him. He peppered your face with soft kisses, his lips brushing against your skin like the gentlest of feathers.

Softly, you turned Lucerys's face, pulling him into a tender kiss. Your lips melded against his. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you lost yourself in the gentle brush of your mouths, the intimate press of your bodies.

Lucerys melted into the tender kiss, his lips moving softly against yours in a dance as old as time.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving inside to tangle with yours in a sensual dance. He could feel your fingers tracing patterns on his back, your touch soothing and exciting in equal measure.

Breathless and sated, you clung to him, your fingers tracing the strong lines of his back. The storm outside raged on, wind howling and rain lashing against the window panes, but inside your little world, all was tranquil. You nuzzled into his chest, breathing in the clean, masculine scent of his skin. Your curves fit perfectly against the hard planes of his body, two puzzle pieces interlocking into one.

Lucerys shuddered, a soft groan escaping his lips as he felt his spent length twitch inside your still-fluttering heat. He knew he should pull out, but he couldn't bring himself to separate from you, not yet. He wanted to stay like this forever, joined with you in the most intimate way possible.

Sighing softly, Lucerys nuzzled into your neck, breathing in your scent as he held you close.

In that moment, Lucerys realised he was falling in love with you, losing himself in the softness of your touch.

The warmth of Lucerys’s body pressed against yours lulled you into a deep, dreamless sleep. The sound of the storm had become a distant murmur, fading into the edges of your awareness as exhaustion overtook you.

You didn’t feel him pull away.

Lucerys lay beside you, watching the soft rise and fall of your chest in the dim glow of the lantern. His fingers itched to reach out and brush a strand of hair from your face, but he stopped himself.

This shouldn’t have happened.

The thought echoed in his mind, sharp and unforgiving. He couldn’t let himself believe in this, in you—not when it was bound to end the way it always did. He had let his guard down, let you in, and now the walls he’d spent years building felt like they were crumbling around him.

Lucerys sat up slowly, careful not to wake you. He ran a hand through his curls, his breath shaky as his mind raced. He could still feel the ghost of your touch, the way your body had moved with his, the softness of your lips against his own. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and utterly terrifying.

Because he knew—knew deep down—that if he let you stay, if he let himself fall any further, it would destroy him when you inevitably left. He stood, his movements silent as he dressed quickly, his damp clothes sticking uncomfortably to his skin. He glanced back at you one last time, his heart twisting painfully in his chest at the sight of you curled up on the small bed.

You looked peaceful, and content, and it made him feel selfish for even thinking about leaving. But he couldn’t stay.

Lucerys slipped out of the boathouse, the door creaking softly behind him as he stepped into the rain-soaked night. The storm had passed, leaving behind a heavy stillness that seemed to press down on him. He walked down the docks, his footsteps muffled against the wet planks.

The guilt clawed at him, a relentless ache that wouldn’t go away. He told himself it was for the best, that putting distance between you now would save him the inevitable heartbreak later. But even as he thought it, the pain of leaving you felt worse than anything he could imagine.

By the time the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, Lucerys was long gone, leaving behind only the faint imprint of his presence in the boathouse.

When you woke, the space beside you was empty.

You blinked sleepily, your body sore but pleasantly warm from the remnants of the night before. At first, you thought he’d just stepped outside, maybe to get some air or watch the sunrise. But as you sat up and glanced around the small room, the absence of his belongings told a different story.

“Lucerys?” you called softly, your voice rasping from sleep.

There was no answer, only the faint sound of waves lapping against the dock outside.

A sinking feeling settled in your chest as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. Your bare feet touched the cool wood floor, grounding you as your mind raced to make sense of his disappearance.

Pulling on your dress his hoodie that he had surprisingly left behind, which still smelled faintly of salt and him, you stepped outside. The boathouse was eerily quiet, the storm from the night before leaving behind a fresh, rain-soaked scent in the air.

You scanned the empty docks, your heart sinking further when you saw no sign of him.

The ache in your chest grew sharper as the truth began to sink in. He had left.

[nellroshe]

Chapters: 10/? Fandom: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Legacy Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Sam Flynn, Quorra (Tron), Clu 2 (Tron: Legacy), Original Characters, Aera Flynn (OC), Leo Kestler (OC), Kevin Flynn, Cael (OC), Vector (OC), Castor | Zuse (Tron), Tron (Tron) Additional Tags: Angst, Identity Issues, Loss of Identity, Identity Swap, Mistaken Identity, Gender Identity, Identity, Not Beta Read, What Have I Done, Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Sharing a Body, Anxiety, Awkward Romance, Awkward Tension, Gender Confusion, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Bodyswap, Drama, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt

Summary:

Aera Flynn, the daughter of Sam Flynn, is pulled into the digital world of the Grid by a malicious Program named Vector, who seeks to restore a twisted vision of perfection. But Aera is more than just a captive—she’s the key to Vector’s plan. As the boundaries between human and Program blur, Aera must fight to hold on to her identity… and decide whether she will become the system’s end—or its new beginning.

[wooyoungmybelovedhusband]

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[keepitdreamin]

Little painting WIP I was working on during the Drawfee Va-Pride-ety Hour stream today. If there's one thing I'm gonna do it's give a character a plate halo

[kathaelipwse]

Paper Promises & Second Chances | L.Minho

Pairing: Lee Know (Minho) x Female Reader

Word count: 11,250 words | Reading Time: 40-ish mins

Trope: Marriage of Convenience | Single Dad | Bestfriends to Strangers to Lovers | Hurt/Comfort | Slow Burn | Emotional Redemption

Genre: Angst | Romance | Domestic | Slice of Life | Drama

Warnings: full angst to sweet happy ending | Emotional neglect | Mentions of infidelity (ex-wife) | Child emotional distress | Self-worth issues | Past trauma | Heavy angst | Mild language | Emotional breakdowns | Recovery arc | NO PROOF READING WAS DONE

Synopsis: Minho, a heartbroken single father, marries you for the sake of his daughter—nothing more. Once your best friend, now he's cold and distant, weighed down by past betrayal. But when old wounds reopen and soft hands start to heal, both of you are forced to face truths you’ve buried for too long. Can a marriage born from duty bloom into something real—or will it collapse under years of unspoken love and regret?

Author's Note: This one’s for the girls who loved too silently, gave without being asked, and still kept trying—even when it hurt. If you've ever felt like a second choice or a forgotten soul, this story will hold your hand and remind you: your love is not a burden—it’s powerful. Hello my lovies, sorry i was gone for so long, i dont think i can update on daily basis but i will try to stay active and keep updating!!

The marriage, which had been forced on both of y'll by your parents. Lee Know had made perfectly clear, was a strategic alliance. There was no pretense of romance, no whispers of forever exchanged between them. His words, delivered just days before the minimalist ceremony, were a familiar, cutting echo of the past, designed to sever any nascent hope.

"Look, Y/N," he’d begun, cornering you in the hushed elegance of his mother’s living room, where the idea had first been floated. His voice was flat, devoid of warmth, like a winter sky. "Let's be absolutely clear. This… this arrangement. It means nothing to me. Not in that way." His eyes, usually so expressive, were carefully shuttered. "Aera needs a mother. That's it. A stable presence. Understand?"

You’d simply nodded, your throat tight with a pain that was both fresh and agonizingly old. "I understand, Minho," you managed, the formality of his full name a deliberate barrier you hoped he'd feel. A phantom ache from years gone by, now brutally reawakened.

The small civil ceremony had been mercifully brief, a blur of officiant's words and a few polite, distant relatives. Your dress, a simple cream-colored shift, felt less like bridal attire and more like a uniform for a solemn duty. Minho, handsome in a dark suit, had looked impeccably composed, a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside you. There was no exchange of rings—only the signing of papers, sealing a fate neither of you had truly chosen. He had offered you a pen, his fingers brushing yours, a fleeting contact that sent a shiver through you, a sensation you immediately suppressed.

"Sign here," the officiant had prompted, pointing to the line.

Minho had signed first, his hand steady. When it was your turn, your signature felt alien, a stranger’s mark. "There," you'd murmured, pushing the papers back.

Minho had barely glanced at you. "Right. So, that's done." His tone had been purely transactional, a stark reminder of his earlier declaration. You were Y/N L/N now, soon to be Y/N Lee, but the surname felt like a costume you were forced to wear, a temporary, uncomfortable guise.

It was a cruel, almost unbearable irony, considering how your paths had once been so deeply intertwined. You and Minho, inseparable, best friends through every grueling university exam, every late-night study session fueled by instant coffee and shared dreams. You’d known the contours of his laughter, the slight furrow of his brow when he was concentrating, the way his eyes would crinkle at the corners when truly amused. He’d known yours too – your nervous habit of twirling a strand of hair, your passion for forgotten novels, the quiet way you processed the world around you. Your lives had been parallel, often intersecting, a comforting constant in the turbulent waters of young adulthood.

Then she had arrived – his ex-wife, the woman who had later shattered his world by cheating on him. Back then, she had been a whirlwind of dazzling smiles and magnetic charm, and Minho had fallen hard. You had watched, a silent, aching observer, as he drifted further away, consumed by a love that, unbeknownst to him then, would ultimately betray him. And just like that, without a backward glance, he’d cut you off.

"She doesn't like how close we are, Y/N," he’d said, his eyes distant, already elsewhere, avoiding your gaze. "It's for the best. You understand, don't you?"

You had swallowed the bitter pill, pretending understanding, while your heart fractured into a thousand pieces. "Of course, Minho. Whatever makes you happy." The lie had tasted like ash. As if your friendship had never existed, as if the years of shared laughter and confidences were merely a phantom, easily erased.

Now, years later, the universe seemed to delight in its twisted sense of humor. Their mothers, ever the masterminds of well-intentioned chaos, had decided your fates, orchestrating this reluctant union. His mother, concerned for Aera's future, and your own, perhaps hoping to see you finally settled. The rationale was simple: Aera needed a mother, and you, being a 'good, stable girl' who knew Minho, were deemed the perfect, convenient solution. You had no real say, swept up in a tide of parental expectations and societal pressures.

-

A month passed within the confines of the meticulously clean, yet emotionally sterile, house. The initial silence, thick with unspoken resentment and unaddressed pasts, began, almost imperceptibly, to soften. Five-year-old Aera, a miniature shadow constantly at her father's heels, initially shy and reserved, began to cling to you with an unexpected fierceness. She was a delicate thing, all wide, curious eyes and soft brown hair, and beneath her initial reticence, you found a playful spirit longing for connection.

It surprised everyone, especially Minho, who had cycled through countless nannies, each one met with Aera's stubborn, tearful refusal to trust. The child seemed to possess an innate radar for insincerity, sending nannies fleeing with her piercing cries and unyielding resistance. But with you, it was different. Slowly, cautiously, Aera began to unfurl. She’d crawl into your lap while you read her bedtime stories, her small body a comforting weight. She’d shyly offer you her favorite crayon as you sketched together, her hand reaching out for yours, a silent invitation you always accepted. Sometimes, she would just rest her small head against your thigh as you moved through the kitchen, a quiet presence that spoke volumes. Each small gesture felt like a balm to your wounded spirit, a tiny crack appearing in the wall of your resignation.

Even Minho's three furry overlords—Soonie, Doongie, and Dori—the regal, aloof feline trio who usually regarded newcomers with disdainful flicks of their tails, now purred contentedly around you. They would rub against your legs as you walked, settle onto your lap while you watched TV, or even allow you the rare privilege of scratching behind their ears. Minho, ever the doting cat dad, would sometimes pause, a flicker of surprise in his usually impassive eyes, as he witnessed their unusual acceptance.

One evening, he watched as Dori kneaded biscuits happily on your lap. "Huh," he’d said, a rare, almost unreadable sound. "They don't usually… tolerate new people that quickly."

You’d merely offered a small, noncommittal smile, not wanting to break the fragile peace. It was a small validation for you, a quiet acknowledgement that perhaps, you weren't entirely unwelcome in this new, strange life.

A fragile, bittersweet domestic tension began to settle in, a tentative breath of peace in a house built on obligation. The routines of breakfast, school runs, quiet evenings, and shared meals began to form a rhythm, punctuated by Aera's childish chatter and the soft purring of the cats. Minho remained guarded, polite but distant, a phantom in the hallways. "Good morning," or "Did Aera finish her homework?" were the most extensive exchanges. You, in turn, learned to navigate his silences, to exist in the periphery of his life, a role you thought you were accustomed to from your university days, but now carried the weight of a 'paper ring' and a silent promise of nothing. Each day was a tightrope walk between hope and resignation, between the past you couldn't forget and a future you couldn't quite see.

--

One crisp evening, the enticing aroma of roasted garlic and something simmering on the stove—a rich, savory scent—greeted you as you returned home from errands. The fragrance was a surprising comfort, a small, domestic whisper in the otherwise vast, silent house. It was a fleeting illusion of normalcy, one you clung to with a desperate, almost pathetic hope. Minho, having taken a rare day off to spend with Aera, was meticulously plating dinner in the kitchen. His movements were precise, economical, almost robotic, as he spooned pasta onto plates and arranged small, perfectly cooked florets of broccoli beside them. He wore a simple, dark t-shirt, sleeves rolled to reveal strong forearms, and for a fleeting moment, the sight felt almost normal, a fragile bubble of domesticity you desperately yearned for.

"Dinner's ready," he announced, his voice neutral, not looking up from the plates, his gaze fixed on the task. Aera, who had been quietly coloring at the kitchen island, a small, contented hum escaping her lips as she meticulously colored a unicorn, immediately bounced off her stool, her eyes wide with anticipation. "Yay! Dinner!" she chirped, tugging on his sleeve.

As the three of you sat down at the gleaming, expansive dining table, a quiet hum settled between you. The only sounds were the soft clink of cutlery against ceramic, Aera's soft murmurs to her imaginary friend tucked under the table, and the faint, residual sizzle from the kitchen as Minho finally turned off the stove. You watched Aera pick at her food, her small fork pushing around the vibrant green peas with an air of profound contemplation, as if they held the secrets of the universe, rather than just being, well, peas.

"Aera, sweetheart, just a few bites of your veggies," you coaxed gently, your voice soft, almost a whisper, reaching to help guide her spoon. Your fingers brushed her tiny hand. "They're really good, I promise. Daddy cooked them just for you." You offered her a warm, encouraging smile, trying to make it a game.

But the moment the spoon neared her mouth, a storm erupted. Her small face contorted into a defiant frown, every line of her five-year-old stubbornness etched clearly. She shrieked, swatting your hand away with surprising force, sending the spoon clattering against the plate. "No! I don't want it! I don't like green! It's yucky! I want noodles only!" A solitary pea flew across the table, a tiny green missile, narrowly missing Minho’s plate and landing with a soft plink on the polished hardwood floor.

Minho had been having an impossibly rough week. The significant deal, a sprawling, complex project he had poured months of his life, his intellect, his very essence into, had collapsed spectacularly earlier that day. Not due to his fault, but his company's egregious, sloppy error. He had spent hours trapped in scathing, unforgiving meetings, bearing the brunt of the blame, listening to veiled threats about future career prospects. It had left him with the unenviable task of damage control, a throbbing headache, and a bitter, metallic taste of failure coating his tongue. His patience, already stretched thin by the day's relentless frustrations and the suffocating weight of responsibility, snapped like a dry twig underfoot.

"Aera! Stop that right now!" His voice, usually a soothing balm when speaking to his daughter, cracked with a harshness that made you flinch violently. He slammed his fork down on the table, a sharp, metallic clang that echoed like a gunshot in the sudden silence. "Eat your food! You're five, you need to eat your vegetables! We do not throw food at the table! That's disrespectful!"

The little girl froze instantly, her playful defiance replaced by wide-eyed terror. Her lip began to tremble uncontrollably, a single tear tracing a path down her flushed cheek, before she burst into heartbroken sobs, loud and piercing, echoing off the high ceilings. She looked utterly bewildered by her father's sudden, explosive fury, a silent accusation in her tear-filled eyes, reflecting the shattered innocence of the moment.

"Minho, please," you started, your voice urgent, instinctively reaching across the table, your hand hovering uncertainly between them. You wanted to pull Aera into your embrace, to shield her from his sudden, chilling rage. "She's just a child. She's upset. Let's try to calm her down, maybe make a game of it, or distract her��"

But he cut you off with a sharp, angry glance, his jaw tight, muscles bunched along his jawline. His eyes, usually a soft, warm brown, were now cold, devoid of any recognition, like chips of obsidian. "Stay the hell out of it, Y/N." His words were ice, direct and devastating, each syllable a precisely aimed dagger. "This is between me and my daughter. You’re just some outsider. You don't get to interfere with how I raise her. You don't understand."

The 'outsider' comment hung in the air, heavy and poisonous, coating everything in its bitter taste. It wasn't just a phrase; it was a bludgeon, hitting you squarely in the chest. It was a familiar, painful reminder of your precarious place in this arrangement, a stark, brutal jab at the wound he'd inflicted years ago when he’d first cast you aside. It tore open old scars, reminding you of every moment you’d felt secondary, expendable. But seeing Aera’s crushed face, her small body shaking with quiet, desperate sobs, ignited a protective fire in you, extinguishing the self-pity, pushing aside your own hurt for hers. The anger at his cruel words for you was momentarily overshadowed by the fierce, burning injustice done to her.

You pushed your chair back with a violent scrape that grated against the floor, standing abruptly, your hands clenched into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms. Your voice trembled with the force of suppressed emotion, but it was firm, unwavering, born of a quiet strength he hadn't seen in years. "That is not how you parent, Minho! You’re terrifying her! She's crying because you're yelling, not because she's stubborn! Yelling at her like that will just make her fear you! She’s upset, not defiant, and she needs comfort, not a lecture on discipline after you've scared her half to death!"

His eyes, blazing with a fury that mirrored your own, met yours across the table, a silent, volatile challenge. A vein pulsed visibly in his temple. "Don't you dare teach me how to handle my own daughter! Who are you to tell me how to raise her?! I lost a major deal today, Y/N, I'm stressed beyond belief! She needs to learn discipline! You have no right to interfere!" His fist clenched on the tabletop, his knuckles white against his tanned skin. "You have no idea what it's like to be responsible for everything alone! You have no idea what my life is like!"

And then you yelled back, the dam breaking under the pressure of weeks of unspoken grievances and years of buried pain, the words tumbling out, raw and uncontrolled, laced with venom you didn't know you possessed. "Discipline? Or are you just lashing out because you're having a bad day and can’t control your own temper?! Is that it, Minho?! You’re acting like a stranger to your own child! Then you shouldn't have remarried me if you haven't moved on!" Your voice rose, raw with emotion, tears stinging your own eyes, hot and sudden. "You’re bringing your past hurt, your anger, your failed relationship into this house, and it’s hurting Aera! Your parenting is harsh, Minho, and you don't realize your words are like slow poison! They sting, badly, and they leave scars! On her, and on everyone around you!" Your gaze held his, piercing through his anger to the raw pain beneath. "You have no idea how much your words can sting, how much they can poison someone and lure them to their own death by making them feel like they aren't good enough! for you or for aera or for anyone!"

Aera, meanwhile, had scrambled from her chair, her small body trembling with silent sobs that shook her shoulders. Her face was blotchy, tears streaking lines down her cheeks. She pushed her chair back further with a pathetic squeak and bolted, a tiny, heartbroken blur disappearing into the sanctuary of your room, the soft thud of your room's door closing echoing in the sudden, suffocating silence that descended upon the dining room.

The argument had bled all warmth from the room, leaving only an oppressive, heavy quiet that pressed down on you both. You stood there, chest heaving, the remnants of your outburst vibrating in the air, your body tense, ready for another verbal attack, for the inevitable counter-blow. Minho remained seated, a statue of furious control, his face a mask of stone, his eyes fixed on the empty space where Aera had been, a flicker of something unreadable – regret? shame? – in their depths. The tension was a physical entity, suffocating you both, heavy with the weight of unspoken words and shattered expectations. You couldn't bear to look at him, couldn't bear the lingering echo of his words, the raw, unadulterated hurt they inflicted.

With a final, sharp, ragged breath, you turned, the sound of your own steps unnaturally loud in the silence. You walked, almost ran, to your own bedroom, the slamming of your door echoing the turbulence in your heart, sealing you away from the man you were legally bound to, and the relentless cycle of hurt he so effortlessly inflicted. You leaned against the closed door, your back pressing against the cool wood, tears finally falling freely, hot and unstoppable. The bitter taste of regret mingled with the lingering, agonizing sting of his cruelty, a reminder that some wounds, no matter how old, could always be reopened.

The sharp, insistent ring of the doorbell jolted you awake far too early the next morning. You glanced at your phone—6:45 AM. Too early for anyone, especially after last night's emotional wreckage. Before you could even process it, you heard Aera’s excited squeal from the living room, she was up way early….she had been sleeping besides you for the longest you could remember. Oh no. Not today. It could only mean one thing: Minho’s parents had arrived unannounced.

You quickly splashed cold water on your face, trying to erase the lingering traces of tears and the dark circles under your eyes. As you walked into the living room, a practiced smile plastered on your face, Minho's mother immediately enveloped you in a warm hug. "Y/N, dear! Goodness, you look tired. Minho is still asleep, I assume? He works so hard."

You forced a light laugh, your heart pounding. "Good morning, Eomma. Appa. It's lovely to see you." You subtly glanced towards Minho's closed bedroom door. "Yes, he… he had a very late night at work. I didn't want to disturb him." You avoided eye contact, hoping your feigned cheerfulness would mask the raw fight that had exploded just hours before. Aera, surprisingly, didn't say anything either. She just clung to her grandmother's leg, her gaze briefly meeting yours, a silent pact of secrecy passing between you. Perhaps the shock of her father’s anger had sobered her, or perhaps she sensed the fragile peace you were trying to maintain.

Aera, who had curled up with you in your room last night—a first, a small, comforting victory in the chaos—was now buzzing with excitement around her grandparents. She chatted happily, completely absorbed in their presence, making no mention of her sudden transfer to your bed. You spent the morning attempting to play the perfect host, brewing coffee, preparing breakfast, and engaging in light conversation, all while a frantic energy pulsed beneath your calm exterior. Minho remained conspicuously absent. Aera, after failing to rouse him, bounced off to join her grandparents in the kitchen.

Later, as the day wound down and the evening shadows lengthened, Minho’s mother made a casual remark. "Y/N, dear, Aera will want to sleep with her father tonight, now that we're here. And you'll need your own room, of course. It's only proper." Her words were gentle, but the implication was clear: you would have to sleep in Minho’s room. Your stomach churned. The thought of sharing that space, even platonically, after what had happened, was a fresh wave of agony. You simply nodded, forcing another weak smile. "Of course, Eomma."

You tried to delay the inevitable, helping Aera prepare for bed, tucking her in as Minho’s parents settled into the guest room. Minho was still not home. He had sent a brief, impersonal text earlier: Will be late. Don't wait for me. That was all. No apology, no explanation, just a curt notification.

You lingered in Aera's room until her breathing deepened, then reluctantly made your way to Minho's room. The air felt heavy, charged with his lingering presence, even in his absence. You changed into your sleep clothes, the silence of the large room amplifying the ache in your chest. You climbed into the vast bed, pulling the duvet up to your chin, trying to find a comfortable position on the very edge, as far from his side as possible. You tried to sleep, but the words from last night still festered, raw and stinging, replaying in your mind like a broken record. "You’re just some outsider." They were a poison, slowly eroding your already fragile sense of belonging.

Restless, unable to find solace, you eventually shifted, your arm instinctively reaching for the bedside drawer, expecting your own room's familiar collection of books and a comforting balm. Your fingers brushed against cold metal, then paper. You froze, realizing your mistake. This wasn't your room. It was his. Your hand paused, then curiosity, morbid and irresistible, compelled you forward. You pulled the drawer open slowly.

Inside, beneath a few neatly stacked papers, lay a silver photo frame. Your eyes fell on it, and your breath hitched. It was a wedding photo—Minho and his ex-wife, all smiles and starry-eyed adoration, captured in a moment of pure, unadulterated happiness. He looked so young, so in love. So happy. It was a stark contrast to the distant, weary man he was now. Aera looked so much like Minho, you realized, studying the tiny face in the picture. Her hair color was undeniably her mother’s, a rich, dark brown, but the shape of her eyes, the set of her lips, it was all Minho.

Below the frame, tucked away, were stacks of papers. You carefully picked them up, your fingers trembling. They were old love poems and song lyrics, handwritten in Minho’s neat script, overflowing with devotion and longing. For her. Each word was a sharp jab, twisting deeper into your gut.

It stung, a deep, twisting pain in your chest, radiating outwards. You had kept hoping, against all logic, that Minho might eventually like you, that he would move on from the phantom of his past love, or at least that you could somehow return to the easy closeness you shared as friends. His ex-wife was the very reason Minho had distanced himself from you in university, the reason he’d thrown away your bond. You had always loved him, a secret you guarded fiercely, unwilling to jeopardize a friendship that meant the world to you. And just like that, he had slipped away, as if your bond meant nothing. You hadn't attended their wedding; you just couldn't bear it. You had believed you’d moved on, burying the feelings deep, only to be proven wrong, again and again, with every quiet moment you spent under his roof, every silent hope you nurtured. And now, seeing this proof of his enduring devotion to a ghost, you hated yourself for still liking him, for allowing this agonizing vulnerability, for clinging to the idea that you could ever fill a void meant for someone else. You felt utterly, irrevocably unwanted.

You quietly, meticulously, put everything back, arranging the papers and the photo frame exactly as you’d found them. Tears rolled silently down your cheeks, hot and unbidden, pooling on the pillow. Getting up from the vast, empty expanse of the bed, you walked towards the small couch tucked into a corner of the room. Curling into its cramped space, you wrapped your arms around yourself, with Aera sleeping peacefully in the bed a world away. You hoped Minho wouldn't even realize you were there.

You couldn't sleep. The photo, the poems, his words, Aera’s tears after minho had yelled her like she had commited a crime—it all swirled in a tormenting vortex. Just as the first hint of pre-dawn light filtered through the curtains, the door swung open, and he walked in. Minho.

He didn't notice you immediately. He quickly stripped off his coat, tossing it over a chair, and walked over to the bed, his movements quiet, precise. He bent down, his shadow falling over Aera, and gently pulled her closer, kissing her head. "I'm so sorry, baby i was wrong for yelling at you…i shouldn't have taken out my anger on you," he murmured, his voice a low, raspy apology, filled with a regret you knew was solely for her. You pretended to be asleep, your breath shallow, your heart aching with a pain so profound it was almost physical.

He slowly got up, went for a bath, the sound of the running water a muffled background noise. When he came back, dressed in fresh sleepwear, he laid down beside his daughter, pulling the duvet over them both. His eyes, now adjusted to the dim light, drifted from Aera’s sleeping form to the far corner of the room. He saw your cramped form on the couch. That's when it hit him—right, his parents were here… you were here, not in the bed, but on the couch. A flicker of surprise, then something akin to confusion, crossed his face before he settled deeper into the pillows, his gaze drifting towards his bedside table. The neatly arranged items, the way the drawer had been moved by a centimeter or so… it was clear you had seen something, something he had been wanting to trash but hadn't had the heart to.

He hadn't meant to cause you so much pain. The thought was a weak, pathetic excuse, a whisper in the furious storm brewing within him, barely audible over the roaring self-condemnation. He watched you curled on the couch, a small, desolate shape in the dim, pre-dawn light that filtered through the curtains, painting the room in shades of grey. You looked tired, utterly exhausted, and undeniably, profoundly hurt. This wasn't the superficial fatigue of a long day at the office or a sleepless night; this was the deep-seated weariness of a spirit burdened, a soul bruised by repeated blows. Your posture, hunched and defensive, spoke volumes, a stark contrast to the vibrant, open person he remembered.

He sat heavily on the edge of his bed, the duvet still warm from Aera’s small, innocent body, and his gaze drifted back to the bedside table. The photo frame, the stack of papers. They were exactly as he'd left them, a testament to his own lingering attachment to a past he desperately wanted to erase. Yet, the slight displacement he’d noticed earlier, the tiny shift of a centimeter or two, spoke volumes, a silent accusation. You had opened the drawer. You had seen it all. The wedding photo with his ex-wife, her beaming, false smile a stark contrast to the betrayal that followed. The saccharine love poems he’d poured his naive, foolish heart into for a woman who had ultimately shattered it into irreparable pieces. The relics of a past he couldn't bring himself to truly discard, not because he still loved her, but because the searing pain, the bitter rage, and the profound, crippling insecurities born from that very betrayal, still clung to him like a suffocating shroud. They were a part of him now, an ugly, festering wound that refused to heal.

He hadn't loved her in years, not in the way he'd once foolishly believed was love. That emotion had curdled into resentment and a deep-seated fear of vulnerability. But the betrayal had warped him, convinced him that he was inherently unlovable, perpetually destined to be left, replaced, or cheated on. And those festering insecurities had, time and again, found an easy target, lashing out at the reader. A wave of shame washed over him, a cold, bitter tide.

He remembered the day in university, years ago. His ex-wife, then his dazzling girlfriend, had demanded he cut ties with his 'too-close' female friend. He’d barely hesitated, blinded by infatuation and his own desperate need for validation. "Just… fuck off, Y/N," he’d snapped, his own fear of losing his new, captivating love overriding every ounce of loyalty and genuine affection he held for his best friend. He’d seen it then, the instant flash of pain in your eyes, a bright, hopeful spark extinguished as if by a sudden gust of wind, replaced by a quiet, heartbreaking emptiness that had never truly returned. He’d justified it then, told himself it was for the best, that you should move on. Now, looking at you on the couch, he knew he had been a coward.

And last night. His words had been even worse, sharper, more venomous than anything he’d ever directed at anyone, let alone you. Calling you an 'outsider,' demanding you to 'stay the hell out of it.' His own fury, fueled by his humiliating professional setback, had found an outlet in the one person who offered him solace. He had failed you as a friend, as a husband, as a human indeed. The thought settled in his gut like a lead weight. He was disgusted with himself, truly, profoundly disgusted.

The woman who stood by him, who patiently navigated his moods, who had, without a single complaint, taken on the arduous role of Aera’s mother, was someone he had consistently, cruelly, pushed away. The irony was suffocating. The fact that she still kept trying, kept all the mundane details of their shared life running smoothly, kept a calm and happy demeanor for Aera’s sake—it was a testament to your quiet resilience, a quiet strength that shamed him. It twisted his gut with a familiar, burning guilt. You were suffering, he realized with a sickening lurch, probably worse than he could ever imagine, because you were always so acutely insecure about your whole existence.

He remembered your quiet struggles in university, the way your family had subtly, constantly, undermined you, with their casual taunts and backhanded compliments. "Why can't you be more like your sister, Y/N? She always knows what she wants." Or, "You're so quiet, are you even trying? You need to speak up more, get noticed." They had been like tiny, insidious cuts, wearing away at your self-worth, systematically eroding your confidence. You had been living in a subtle hell of constant comparison and criticism, and he, in his blind rage and self-pity, had only added to it. He had taken you out of one toxic environment and, in his arrogance, put you back into the same nasty rhythm of his own rage and insecurities, constantly reminding you that you are just here as a replacement, a convenient solution, never truly desired or loved for herself. He had broken the one promise he’d silently made to himself: to protect you. Just to be broken in the worst manner and hurt you in the worst way one could have even imagined.

The image of your small, trembling body on the couch, a faint tremor still visible in your sleeping form, merged with the memory of Aera's terrified sobs from last night. His words, he realized, were like acid, slowly eating away at the very foundations of your spirit, leaving you hollowed out and fragile. He had sworn to himself, silently, during their university days, that he would never make this girl cry. He had sworn to protect that quiet, hopeful spark in your eyes, the gentle kindness that drew others to you. And now, he was the one extinguishing it, systematically, with every cruel word, every cold shoulder. He had fallen in love with the manipulation, the subtle coercion from the woman he'd once 'loved,' who had asked him to cut ties with his best friend and probably the only person who wad truly ever seen him fully. He had been so blind, so consumed by his own wounded ego after being cheated on, that he hadn't seen the true, unwavering kindness, the steadfast loyalty, that had always been right in front of him, waiting patiently.

He knew, with a gut-wrenching certainty, that he didn't deserve you, you deserved something he had touched and lost in a matter of seconds. He was a mess, a twisted knot of anger, self-loathing, and unresolved trauma. He had used your gentle presence, your unwavering support, your quiet affection, to somehow convince himself he was still good enough, still worthy of someone's affection, even if that affection was born of duty and circumstance. It was disgusting. He was disgusting. Every breath he took felt tainted by his own hypocrisy and cruelty.

He rose from the bed, moving slowly, carefully, his limbs heavy, so as not to disturb you or Aera. He knelt by the couch, the worn fabric pressing into his knees, his heart heavy and aching with a pain that rivaled his own. You were so small, so defenseless in your sleep, your face still etched with the residue of tears, a tear track glistening faintly on your cheek. He gently, carefully, cradled you in his arms, lifting your feather-light body as if you were made of glass. He could feel the slight shudder of your breath against his chest, the warmth of your skin. He laid you on the bed, pulling the duvet over you, watching as you instinctively snuggled into the warmth, finding comfort in the familiar scent of the linens. You looked tired, exhausted, and profoundly hurt. He reached out a trembling hand, brushing a stray strand of hair from your forehead, his fingers lingering, wanting to smooth away the pain he had caused. He remembered their university days and how his callous words had destroyed your spark. He silently vowed to make amends, to somehow, impossibly, bring that light back. He would try, even if he didn't deserve it. He owed you that much. He owed you everything.

The next morning, the air in the house was thick with an unfamiliar quiet, a strained politeness that felt heavier than any argument. Aera, surprisingly bright-eyed and cheerful, announced with a giggle that she would be spending some time with her grandparents. Minho's mother, ever efficient, confirmed the arrangement. "Just for a few weeks, dear," she said, patting your hand. "Aera loves staying with us, and it will give you both some quiet time." The irony was a bitter taste in your mouth. Quiet time. Aera, seemingly having forgotten the previous night's tension, bounced between her grandmother and father, showering them both with hugs. She hugged you too, a quick, trusting embrace that felt like a lifeline. Then, with a final wave, she was gone, her cheerful chatter fading with the closing of the front door.

And just like that, the house had gone silent. Too silent.

It wasn't merely the absence of Aera's lively presence; it was a profound, suffocating quiet that settled into every corner, amplifying the unspoken chasm between you and Minho. The walls seemed to hum with the tension of two people meticulously avoiding each other. The mornings became a carefully orchestrated dance of near misses. You would rise early, perhaps make yourself a quick toast, and then retreat to the small sunroom with a book, hoping to be out of the way. Minho, it seemed, adopted a similar strategy. You'd hear the faint sounds of him getting ready, a cabinet closing, water running, but by the time you ventured into the main living areas, he would already be gone, the lingering scent of his cologne the only proof he'd been there.

Weeks passed, stretching into an agonizing eternity of carefully maintained distance. Three weeks, to be precise. Aera still didn't want to come back, delighting in the endless attention and treats at her grandparents' house. And with each passing day of her absence, the silence between you and Minho grew heavier, thicker, more impenetrable. It became a third entity in the house, a silent, oppressive companion.

You existed like strangers. Not just under the same roof, but in the same emotional space, breathing the same air, yet worlds apart. There were no more shared meals, no accidental brushes of hands in the kitchen, no fleeting glances across the room. You found yourself retreating more and more into your own world within the house. You spent hours tending to the small, neglected garden in the backyard, pulling weeds with a fierce concentration that masked your inner turmoil. You reorganized closets, baked elaborate cakes you never ate, and started learning a new language online or even force yourself to go meet your friends you had made after minho had left you in the university. Anything to fill the aching void, anything to drown out the silence, anything to avoid the man who was legally your husband.

He, in turn, seemed to retreat into his work. You would be asleep when he came home, the faint creak of the floorboards or the distant click of a lock the only indication of his return. And by the time you woke up, he would already be gone, leaving behind only the cold emptiness of the space beside you in the bed, a stark reminder of his deliberate absence.

It annoyed you, this constant, almost theatrical avoidance, but you kept yourself busy. You told yourself it was better this way. Less chance of another confrontation, less chance of his words wounding you again. Yet, beneath the busy veneer, a profound loneliness began to take root, nurtured by the silent, aching void where a relationship should have been. You were married, yes, but you were more alone than you had ever been. The house, once filled with the muted hum of your hopes, now echoed with only the sound of your own quiet suffering, a poignant testament to the unbearable weight of silence.

The quiet, which had initially been a suffocating weight, had morphed into a strange, unsettling companion. Three weeks of this strained existence had passed, each day a blur of work, domestic tasks, and the meticulous avoidance of Minho. He would leave before you woke, return after you slept. The house was a large, elegant shell, echoing with the silence of two souls desperately trying not to collide.

Then, one evening, as you were meticulously organizing the spice rack for the third time that week, Minho walked into the kitchen. He was dressed in a crisp suit, his briefcase already by the door. "I'll be leaving for a business trip," he announced, his voice flat, devoid of any preamble or desire for discussion. "Four days. If you need anything leave a message"

You merely nodded, your back still to him as you rearranged the cinnamon sticks. "Okay," you mumbled, not trusting your voice to betray the tremor you felt. You didn't ask where, or why, or if he’d be safe. He didn't offer. And just like that, with a barely perceptible sigh, he was gone, leaving behind only the lingering scent of his expensive cologne and an even deeper silence.

The first two days of his absence were surprisingly tolerable. You found a perverse relief in the house being truly, unequivocally empty. No more silent dances in the morning, no more listening for the faint click of his key in the lock late at night. You worked on your online language lessons, gardened, read, and even found yourself humming a little as you cleaned. It was a fragile, self-made peace.

But then came the third day.

The silence began to press in, heavier than before. The vastness of the house, usually a comfort, became a cruel, echoing reminder of your solitude. You found yourself pacing, restless, unable to settle into any task. Every shadow seemed to stretch, every creak of the floorboards sounded louder. You missed him. The thought hit you with the force of a physical blow, surprising and sickening. You missed his presence, even his distant, guarded one. You craved the casual background noise of another adult in the house, the faint scent of his coffee from the kitchen, the distant sound of his voice on a call.

You wanted to kill yourself for still craving it, for being such a needy, pathetic idiot. You were a grown woman, independent, yet here you were, consumed by a longing for a man who had made it painstakingly clear he didn't want you. The knowledge that he wouldn't be home for another day, maybe more, felt like a crushing weight.

Driven by an impulse you couldn't control, you wandered into his bedroom. The room was stark, masculine, smelling faintly of him, clean and crisp. Your eyes landed on his walk-in closet, and specifically, on one of his dark grey hoodies, casually draped over a chair. It was the one you always wanted to wear, thick and soft, the fabric looking impossibly comforting.

With trembling hands, you pulled it on. It was absurdly large, the sleeves falling over your hands, the hem reaching your mid-thigh. But it smelled like him. It was warm, retaining a faint residual heat from his body, and in that moment, you desperately wanted to believe it was how his body warmth would feel like, too. It was a pathetic comfort, a desperate mimicry of an intimacy you didn't have. And probably, you thought with a bitter twist, this was how his ex-wife had gotten all the attention, love, and affection you craved like a greedy, needy idiot. The thought was a sharp pang of self-loathing.

That night, you found yourself in his bed, not the couch. The immense space felt both comforting and vast, emphasizing your loneliness. You curled into the center, the soft duvet pulled high, clutching one of his pillows tight against your chest like a lifeline. It smelled of him, of clean linen and his subtle, unique scent. You buried your face in it, and the tears, long suppressed, finally came. You cried. You sobbed your heart out into the pillow, silent, racking sobs that shook your entire body, until your throat was raw and your eyes burned. You cried yourself to sleep, exhaustion finally claiming you, the hoodie a second skin, a substitute for the warmth you desperately craved.

Minho had finished his business early. The deal, against all odds, had unexpectedly pivoted in their favor at the last minute, and he’d caught an earlier flight, arriving back late on the third night itself, eager to finally decompress in the quiet of his own home. He opened his bedroom door slowly, not wanting to disturb anyone, and stepped inside.

He froze.

There, in his bed, was a small, unfamiliar shape. Not Aera. As his eyes adjusted, he saw you, curled up in the center of his large bed, nestled deep in his duvet, your face buried in his pillow. And then he saw it—the oversized dark grey fabric. His hoodie. You were wearing his hoodie, hugging his pillow like a lifeline.

He moved closer, his steps soft, almost reverent. The streetlights cast long, pale shadows across the room, illuminating your form. As he got closer, the light caught your face. His breath hitched. Your eyes were swollen, your nose red and raw, the delicate skin around them puffy. You had been crying yourself to sleep, god knows from how long. The sight was a punch to the gut, a visceral ache that resonated deep within him.

It hurt him, seeing what he had done to you, the silent suffering you endured. The countless promises he kept breaking, the wounds he kept inflicting, and you were still here, still loving him, still clinging to whatever fragmented pieces of him you could find. He wanted to shake you, to tell you to stop this, to tell you he didn't deserve it, that he was a mess, a broken man. But then, a sickening realization dawned. He had been enjoying it. He had been enjoying the attention you had been giving him, the quiet comfort of your presence, the ease with which you handled Aera and the cats, the unspoken adoration in your gaze. He had been a selfish, manipulative bastard, using someone's love for him to grow by himself, to believe he was good enough, to patch up his own gaping wounds….again and agian and AGAIN.

And it had costed you. You had become someone he couldn't even tell was the same happy, bright person who had been his best friend in university. The spark in your eyes, once so vibrant, was now a dull flicker.

He wanted to hold you close, to beg for another chance, to plead for forgiveness. He knew, with a certainty that shamed him, that you were too forgiving, too kind, too good. You would just say yes. He knew he didn't deserve your kindness, your patience, your affection. He was a monster who had systematically broken the one person who still saw something good in him.

Slowly, gently, he lay down beside you, careful not to disturb your sleep. He didn't pull you closer, didn't dare to. He simply lay there, facing your back, his arm tentatively reaching out to rest beside you, not touching. Good lord, he was an idiot a fucker to have used you in such a twisted manner to heal himself.

--

You woke up slowly, disoriented, a soft warmth enveloping you. For a moment, you thought you were still dreaming, wrapped in the comforting illusion of his arms from your tear-soaked sleep. Then, a shocking realization jolted you into full awareness. You were in Minho’s bed, not the couch. Your head was tucked against a solid chest, and an arm was draped loosely, possessively, around your waist. His scent, still lingering from the hoodie, was now undeniably close, warm and real.

Panic seized you. Your eyes flew open, wide and disbelieving. Had he come back? Had he… had he seen you? The thought of him witnessing your vulnerability, your desperate craving for comfort, sent a fresh wave of humiliation through you. You hadn't asked him if wearing his clothes, touching his stuff, was okay. You were an intruder, caught in the act. Your breath hitched, and your body went rigid, every muscle tensing, preparing for his reaction, for the cold dismissal, the cutting words.

Minho, who hadn't slept a wink, had felt the subtle stiffening of your body against his. He knew the exact moment you woke up, the slight intake of breath, the sudden rigidity that replaced your earlier pliancy. He kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, bracing himself. Then, he opened them, his gaze falling on the top of your head nestled under his chin. He felt your silent panic, the rapid thrum of your heartbeat against his chest.

He pulled you infinitesimally closer, a gentle, reassuring movement. His voice, a low, husky whisper, barely audible, broke the suffocating silence. "Hey," he murmured, his breath warm against your hair. "You're all good. Just… breathe." He didn't offer an explanation for his presence, or yours, simply the quiet comfort of his voice. He ran a hesitant hand down your arm, a light, soothing touch designed to calm.

You didn't move, still rigid, suspended between fear and a fragile, desperate hope. His arm remained around you, firm but not constraining, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart against your cheek. The world outside the duvet felt distant, irrelevant. For a fleeting moment, a dangerous, intoxicating part of you wanted to melt into his embrace, to lean into the warmth, to let the exhaustion finally claim you fully.

He was about to say something more, something perhaps apologetic, perhaps even a confession of his own turmoil, when the shrill, insistent ring of his phone shattered the fragile moment. It blared from his bedside table, a jarring intrusion into the hushed intimacy of the morning.

He sighed, a deep, exasperated sound, and reluctantly loosened his hold on you. "Duty calls," he muttered, the warmth instantly draining from his voice as he pulled away. He reached for the phone, his body turning away from you, the brief spell broken as quickly as it had formed. The sudden absence of his warmth left you feeling cold and exposed. You quickly rolled to your side, turning your back to him, pulling the duvet tighter around you like a shield, pretending to still be asleep.

The conversation was brief, clipped, all business. You heard snippets: "Yes, the Q3 report… confirmed… by noon… I understand I will be there." By the time he hung up, the moment was lost. He got out of bed, the mattress shifting slightly. You kept your eyes squeezed shut, willing him to leave, to disappear, to give you space to process what had just happened, what hadn't happened. He probably thought you were still asleep, and you desperately hoped he did. You heard him move around the room, the faint rustle of clothes, the opening and closing of drawers as he prepared for his day. He didn't speak again. Eventually, the click of the bedroom door signaled his departure.

You waited until the house was utterly silent before allowing yourself to fully breathe, tears silently tracing paths down your temples into your hair. The weight of what had just happened—the almost-moment, the broken spell, the lingering scent of him on the sheets—was almost unbearable.

Another week passed. Aera returned home, bringing with her the familiar, welcome sounds of childish laughter and bustling energy. The house, once again, hummed with a life that wasn't entirely desolate. Her presence was a comforting buffer, a shield against the suffocating quiet that still lingered between you and Minho.

But despite the return of Aera's vibrant energy, the two of you didn't talk. Not about that morning, not about the argument, not about anything that truly mattered. It was almost as if it had been entirely forgotten, a nightmare you had both silently agreed to erase from your shared consciousness. The polite, superficial exchanges resumed: "Did Aera eat her breakfast?" or "Are you picking her up from school today?" The facade was perfectly maintained for Aera's sake, a fragile peace treaty built on unspoken rules and avoided truths.

One afternoon, a faint, acrid smell drifted through the house. You followed it to the backyard, to the small, ornate fire pit that Minho sometimes used for grilling. He was standing over it, his back to you, watching something burn. As you approached, you saw the remnants of ash, and then, a corner of paper that hadn't quite caught fire. It was a faded photograph.

Your breath hitched. Your eyes widened as you recognized the faint outline: the blurred faces of Minho and his ex-wife, her long hair, his joyous, open smile. He was burning the photo. And as the flames consumed the last tangible pieces of his past, you noticed other fragments among the ashes – charred remnants of paper that looked suspiciously like old love poems. The ones you had found in his bedside drawer.

Your heart gave a strange, painful lurch. He was doing it. He was finally letting go. A part of you felt a quiet, fragile hope ignite, a timid flame in the vast emptiness of your despair. But another part, the one that had been repeatedly wounded, felt a deep sense of trepidation. What did it mean? Was this for you? Or just for himself?

He didn't acknowledge your presence, didn't turn around, didn't offer an explanation. You watched him for a long moment, the smoke curling into the sky, carrying away the ashes of regret, the remnants of a life that had wounded them both. You never questioned his actions, never asked him what he was burning, or why. You didn't want to hear something which would hurt you again, something that would dismantle the fragile, almost-peace you had managed to reconstruct. So you simply stood there, watching the smoke rise, and then quietly turned and walked back inside, leaving him alone with the ghosts he was finally trying to lay to rest. The silence between you, once again, remained unbroken.

The fragile peace, or rather, the carefully maintained truce, held for another week. Aera's cheerful presence filled the house with a comforting background hum, a much-needed buffer against the vast silence that still stretched between you and Minho. You went about your days, keeping busy, burying any stray thoughts or lingering aches beneath layers of routine.

--

One afternoon, a subtle ache began to prick behind your eyes. By evening, it had blossomed into a dull throb, and a shiver ran through you despite the comfortable indoor temperature. You felt a familiar tickle in your throat, the tell-tale signs of a cold, or worse, something more significant. You reached for the thermometer in the bathroom cabinet, a small, discreet gesture. The digital display blinked back a concerning number: 38.7∘C. A fever.

You pressed your hand to your forehead, confirming the heat radiating from your skin. Just a little cold, you told yourself, forcing a smile. I can push through this. You certainly weren't going to mention it to Minho; the less attention, the less interaction, the better. You swallowed a couple of over-the-counter pills, hoping they would dull the symptoms, and tried to act as if nothing were amiss. You went about your usual evening tasks, helping Aera with her bath, reading her a bedtime story, the words blurring slightly on the page.

Aera, however, with the keen observation skills only a child possesses, had noticed. As you were tucking her in, she had seen you briefly hold the thermometer, her small eyes widening with concern. "Mama, are you okay?" she’d whispered, her brow furrowed.

"Of course, baby," you’d lied, stroking her hair. "Just a little tired."

Later that night, long after you had put Aera to sleep and Minho had finally returned home from work, the fever began to climb. You felt a wave of dizziness, your limbs heavy, your head swimming. You had been trying to prepare a late dinner, a simple meal you barely had the energy to consider, when the room started to spin. The counter felt cool against your forehead as you leaned into it, trying to steady yourself.

Minho, having just stepped out of the shower, walked into the kitchen, drawn by the unusual quiet and the scent of… nothing cooking. He found you there, slumped against the counter, your head bowed, your body practically radiating heat. The prepared ingredients for dinner sat untouched on the counter, a silent testament to your sudden incapacitation.

His heart leaped into his throat. "Y/N?" His voice was sharp, laced with an immediate, raw fear. He rushed to your side, placing a hand on your forehead. Your skin was burning, dangerously hot. "God, Y/N, you're burning up!"

He quickly gathered you into his arms. You were surprisingly light, limp and unresponsive. You didn't stir, your eyes remaining closed, your breathing shallow and ragged. Panic, cold and sharp, seized him. He quickly carried you to his room, his strong arms cradling your feverish body as if you weighed nothing. He laid you gently on his bed, the cool sheets a stark contrast to your inflamed skin.

The next few hours were a blur of frantic worry for Minho. He rummaged through the medicine cabinet for fever reducers, then raced to the kitchen for a damp cloth, pressing it to your forehead. He called a doctor, explaining your symptoms, his voice tight with concern. Your fever wasn't going down; if anything, it seemed to be climbing. You hadn't woken up once, remaining unresponsive to his worried murmurs, to the cool cloths, to the medicine he managed to coax past your lips.

He watched you, helpless, as the night wore on. The worry was a physical ache in his chest, a suffocating weight that threatened to consume him. He sat by the bedside, his hand constantly on your wrist, checking your pulse, feeling the erratic beat beneath his fingers. He pulled a chair close, leaning his head against the mattress, his arm still outstretched, his fingers resting lightly on your wrist. He felt consumed with guilt, with a crushing sense of inadequacy. He had been so cruel, so blind, so caught up in his own pain, and now you were suffering, and he felt utterly powerless. The whole night he went around with that, watching your shallow breaths, praying for the fever to break. He fell asleep there, slumped by the bed, his hand still on your wrist, a silent, desperate vigil.

You woke up slowly, disoriented, a strange, profound sense of peace washing over you. The crushing ache in your head was gone, replaced by a dull, persistent throb, and the oppressive feverish heat had finally subsided, leaving a faint chill on your skin. The world wasn't spinning anymore, and the frantic pounding in your temples had calmed to a steady rhythm. You realized you were in Minho’s bed, the familiar scent of him comforting you, the soft duvet tangled around your legs. A soft weight was pressed against your side, and a quiet, rhythmic breathing filled the space next to you.

You opened your eyes fully, blinking against the gentle morning light filtering through the window. Your gaze drifted downwards, and your breath hitched, catching in your throat. Aera was curled up on Minho's chest, her small head nestled against his shoulder, sound asleep, her little hand gripping his shirt. And Minho himself, slumped awkwardly in the chair he had pulled bedside, had fallen asleep, his head resting against the mattress at a painful angle, his arm still outstretched, his hand resting lightly on your wrist. He was holding your pulse, a silent, desperate vigil from the night, a physical tether to your fading life force.

A soft, almost imperceptible warmth, fragile as a butterfly's wing, spread through your chest. Subconsciously, instinctively, your free hand lifted, your fingers gently tracing the lines of his disheveled hair, smoothing it back from his forehead. It was a tender, unthinking gesture, a quiet offering of comfort to the man who had tormented you, yet had stayed by your side all night. Your touch was feather-light, almost a whisper, yet it was enough.

Minho stirred, groaning softly, a deep, tired sound. His eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep, then snapped into sharp focus as they landed on you. His gaze was raw, vulnerable, etched with exhaustion and profound relief. He sat up abruptly, his earlier weariness instantly forgotten, his hand tightening almost painfully on your wrist, checking your pulse again. He leaned forward, his forehead pressing against yours, a frantic urgency in his actions. "Y/N? God, you're awake! How are you feeling? Are you okay? Your fever—" His voice was rough, trembling with a fear that startled you.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning your face, relief warring with something fierce and uncontrolled – a desperate need, an unmasked terror. "You scared me half to death, Y/N! Do you understand? To death! Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell me you were sick? Why do you always… why do you always keep it to yourself until it's like this?" He repeated, his voice raw, thick with emotion, a startling vulnerability you hadn't heard in years. He put Aera down gently beside him, careful not to wake the child, and then pulled his chair closer, closer than it had been in weeks, his gaze locked on yours, searching, pleading. "You were burning up all night. I couldn't get your fever down. You didn't wake up once, Y/N. Not once."

You listened, surprised, a faint, almost disbelieving smile touching your lips. His scolding wasn't harsh or angry; it was laced with a desperate worry, a loving concern that felt foreign, unsettling, almost painful in its unexpectedness. It felt like a phantom limb, an emotion you had long since amputated from your expectations of him. "Why do you care now, Minho?" you mumbled, your voice still a little hoarse from the fever, weak but steady. You couldn't digest that he was worried for you, for your well-being, not just your utility. It felt alien, after so many years of being secondary, of feeling like a burden, a convenient solution. "Don't worry, I won't die on you. I have Aera to look after… the cats too. Someone has to make sure they're fed and get their daily cuddle quota. I'm useful." You tried to make it light, a deflection, implying your value lay only in your utility, in caring for others. It felt foreign to even believe anyone cared at all for her, for you, the person.

Those words hit him. Hard. The casual self-deprecation, the quiet resignation in your voice, the implication that your life only had value through serving others – it was a blade twisting in his gut, a direct reflection of his own cruel words that had sculpted this very mindset in you. His expression crumpled, the fragile control he'd maintained all night finally shattering. The worry that had been consuming him, coupled with the guilt that had been eating him alive, erupted into a torrent of self-loathing.

"Don't say that again, Y/N," he whispered, his voice cracking, eyes suddenly glistening with unshed tears, betraying the storm within. He took your hand, pulling it to his lips, pressing a desperate, almost bruising kiss to your knuckles, as if trying to brand you with his remorse. "Don't you ever speak of death again. Don't you ever say you don't matter. God, Y/N, I'm a dick. I'm a complete and utter bastard. I treated you like trash, like you were nothing but a convenience. I'm disgusted with myself. I'm so messed up, so fucked, a complete and utter mess." He pulled his hand away, running it through his hair, tugging at the strands, his knuckles white. "My past… it’s poisoned me. It’s made me blind. I'm so broken… and I love you, Y/N. I love you in the most twisted, messed-up way, because I’ve hurt you so much, and you still… you still look at me like this. I don't deserve you. You should just go away, leave me. Don't accept me or forgive me. I don't deserve it."

He was unraveling, the carefully constructed facade of indifference crumbling before your eyes, revealing the raw, broken man beneath. He was caught in a whole self-hate web himself, you realized, his own insecurities, his past betrayals, his deep-seated fear of being abandoned again, had convinced him that no one could ever truly want him, that he was unworthy of love that he was probably someone who would never be wanted or be desired for the man he is and that maybe he needed to be better and better and just better. He needed to save himself from that dark prison, but he was shattering right now, right in front of you, bleeding out all his pain.

Your heart ached, a different kind of pain, a profound, sympathetic pang for his profound brokenness. He wasn't the monster you’d painted him to be in your anger, not entirely; he was a man consumed by his own demons, suffocating under the weight of his unhealed wounds. You reached out, your hands cupping his face, feeling the warmth of his skin, the tremor beneath your fingertips. Your thumbs gently stroked his cheeks, wiping away the single tear that had escaped his closed eyes.

"Breathe, Minho," you murmured, your voice soft, steady, a stark contrast to his despair, a soothing balm against his raw edges. "Breathe deep. I am not going anywhere." You held his gaze, willing him to believe you, to see the sincerity, the unwavering truth in your eyes, to understand that your presence was a choice, not an obligation. "Not now. Not ever. We'll figure this out. Together."

A small, teary smile graced your lips. "You were hurting, and you lashed out. I understand. It doesn't make it right, but I understand."

He searched your eyes, disbelief battling with a desperate hope. "You… you forgive me?"

"I forgive you, Minho," you whispered, your heart aching with a mixture of relief and a new, fragile kind of joy. "But you have to forgive yourself too. And we have to talk. Really talk, this time."

He nodded, a silent, profound promise in his eyes. Slowly, tentatively, he leaned in. His gaze dropped to your lips, seeking permission. You gave it, a slight nod of your head. He closed the small distance between you, his lips touching yours gently, tentatively at first, a soft exploration. It was a slow, healing kiss, a whisper of understanding and forgiveness, not fiery passion, but a quiet, profound connection. He pulled you closer, his free hand moving to cup the back of your head, deepening the kiss, a gentle affirmation, as if tugging you fully into his orbit, finally bridging the chasm that had separated you for so long. You tugged softly on his hair, responding with every ounce of the love you’d kept hidden for so long.

Just as the kiss deepened, a small, sleepy voice broke the spell. "Ewwww, Daddy! Leave Mama!"

You both sprang apart, startled, eyes wide with mortification. Aera stood in the doorway, rubbing sleep from her eyes, her face a comical mask of disgust at your unexpected display of affection. The sudden, raw intimacy was instantly replaced by a wave of embarrassment. Minho’s cheeks flushed a deep red, and you couldn’t help but giggle, the sound bubbling up from deep within you, light and free.

Minho quickly scooped Aera up, pulling her into a tight hug, his eyes still sparkling with a newfound lightness. He walked over to you, gently kissing your forehead. "I love you, baby," he murmured, his gaze warm and direct, full of a promise that went far beyond mere convenience.

You smiled, reaching out to stroke Aera's hair, your heart overflowing. "…I too love you, dummy… both of you."

Aera, now thoroughly distracted by being held, beamed up at you, her face alight. "Love you too, Mama!!" she declared in a cute, loud tone, her little arms wrapping around your neck.

Minho chuckled, a genuine, unrestrained sound that echoed happily in the room, a sound you hadn't heard from him in years. You joined in, your own laughter light and unburdened. The last remnants of the scar between you dissolved, replaced by a warmth that felt like a new beginning. Their new beginning began—together, this time, with an open heart, and with love.

THE END

[jenoslutie]

that's that me, espresso l y.jh

❥ Synopsis: Jeonghan fucks you hard, Jeonghan fucks you good. You both know that much, so why do you refuse to give him the time of day outside of bed?

❥ Genre: Smut, Desperate Jeonghan, Reader is closed off, one sided pining (until it's mutual), Fuckgirl!reader, Formula One drivers!Seventeen, Reader is a life guard (so is Joshua!) theres also like angst if u really squint.

❥ Warnings: *takes a deep breath* unprotected sex, degradation, praise, choking, implied face slapping, multiple sex scenes (like 3), creampies (ew i hate that word!!!), exhibitionism, jeonghan is a little mean during sex but its okay, jeonghan fucks her while seungcheol listens in but she does not know, fingering, oral, face fucking, car sex, jeonghan cums in her and makes her keep it inside while they play beach volleyball, reader likes to send videos of her sleeping with other people (cheol and josh) to jeonghan to mess with him. i think thats it.

❥ Word count: 8.6k

a/n: so im finally done this LMAOO. huge. huge. HUGE!!!! thank u to everyone who helped me with this fic @hanniesluvr my lovely aera my fellow jeonghan freak my WIFE!!! for keeping me motivated through this and matching my freak, @haologram for the banner and basically ghost writing this (if u like the whole f1 driver thing, thank alta :D) and @dearlyjun for using her big huge sexy brain and f1 knowledge and helping a girl out ANDD!!!! @jihyokat for beta reading i love u all MWAH <3 ANYWAYS!!! here she is <3 hope u enjoy :D

“You’re already leaving?” Jeonghan called out from behind you, watching as you redressed yourself. Jeonghan knew you never stayed. Well, you never stayed with him at least. 

You let out a laugh, ”You know I'm not staying” Jeonghan let out a groan at that, annoyed that he’s seen you stay the night with other hookups but not him. Why not Jeonghan? He was hot, he fucked good, he fucked hard (the way you like it), he fit all of the requirements that made him a good fuck buddy. So why did you refuse to spend the night with him every time you hooked up?

The answer was simple, you didn’t want to stick around when you know they’re gonna catch feelings. You know Jeonghan is going to get attached too easily if you keep staying. But there’s something about him that’s just too good to let go.

The first time you and Jeonghan had sex, it wasn’t like anything you’ve ever experienced before. Jeonghan was different. He single-handedly fulfilled all of your depraved fantasies on your first night together. You never thought that someone like Jeonghan would be so…nasty in bed but the second you followed him back to his car you were in for a surprise to say the least. 

For someone who looked like an angel, he sure didn’t act like one in bed. 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

You were invited to the party Jeonghan threw to celebrate his win in Las Vegas. Your best friend and second place winner tonight, Mingyu, drove you to the venue with him. You could hear the music booming before you even got to the entrance of the nightclub. It was huge and the only other person you knew at this party was Seungkwan, Mingyu’s teammate. 

The moment you were let into the club your eyes landed on Boo Seungkwan, the other man you were expecting to see tonight. His eyes locked with yours and immediately they lit up. He was conversing with Yoon Jeonghan, the man of the night and no matter how many times you’ve seen the man on TV, it’s nothing compared to the real deal. Jeonghan was nothing short of ethereal. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he was an angel on earth, not one of the top racers on the whole grid. 

“Y/n!” Seungkwan shouted over the crowd, your smiles mirroring each other as Mingyu led you through the ocean of bodies. “You look fucking stunning tonight dude” He left the group he was talking with to pull you away from Mingyu. You were aware of how good you looked tonight. You chose not to drive to the party tonight in plans of going home with someone at the party and you knew that you had to dress to impress. With your little black dress and matching stiletto pumps, you were sure you’d get someone to either A) buy you a drink or B) take you back to theirs. 

…Hopefully both? 

“Thanks Kwannie! I thought maybe I’d dress to impress tonight” Seungkwan snickered at that, “Why? got any plans tonight?” He wiggled his eyebrows, looking over your shoulder at Mingyu, implying you’d be going back to his place after this. Typical Seungkwan, he was always so determined to someday expose that you and Mingyu were secretly hooking up on the down low but that day won’t be soon. 

“Fuck no! You know damn well i would never fuck Mingyu of all people” Lies. You and Mingyu did hook up once and never again. Not that it was bad but because on your way out that day you met the one and only Choi Seungcheol, Yoon Jeonghan’s teammate at Ferrari. You and Seungcheol have been hooking up on the down low since. You wrapped up the conversation with Seungkwan and made your way around the club, searching for Mingyu. 

“Hey!” A tap on your shoulder caught your attention, You turned around and there was the man of the night, Yoon Jeonghan, you watched him give you a once over before meeting your eyes. “Hi! Jeonghan, right?” You were quick to introduce yourself, maintaining eye contact as best as you could. It wasn’t easy when his big brown eyes were looking deep into your own and to make it worse, his pretty face was glowing, the aftermath of a huge victory on the track today. 

“Are you looking for your boyfriend?” Jeonghan frowned, eyes searching around looking for whoever he supposed was your boyfriend. 

“Boyfriend?” You snickered, “Who’s my boyfriend dare I ask” 

“Mingyu, no?” 

You burst into laughter, hand resting on his shoulder for reassurance. “Mingyu is not my boyfriend, we’re just friends. And yes, I was looking for him” 

Jeonghan sighed in relief. “Thank God, Mind if I buy you a drink?” 

BINGO! 

Jeonghan led the way to the bar where he bought you your drink of choice, a Vodka Tonic. You were sitting on a bar stool with your back to the bar while Jeonghan stood in front of you, looking down at you and taking in your figure.  “You look amazing tonight by the way” He smiled at you as he watched you take a sip of your drink, smiling creeping onto your face at both the taste of your drink and the compliment. 

“Thank you, I put it on in hopes to go home with someone tonight” You gazed up at him expectantly.  

“Oh? Is that so?” Jeonghan smirked, stepping forward to situate himself between your legs, leaning his head down enough to where his lips were hovering over yours. 

“Wanna take me home?” You smiled with faux innocence, downing your drink before Jeonghan pulled you up and off your seat and out of the club. 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

The drive back to his hotel was exhilarating, Jeonghan feeling up your bare thighs while he drove while you leaned over the center console and pressed kisses all over his neck earning you halfhearted warnings. He knows you shouldn't be distracting him like that but he also knows he does not want you to stop, your lips on his neck almost making him lose focus of the road. 

Before you knew it, the two of you were back at his hotel room with his lips against yours in a desperate kiss while you were pressed up against the wall. Jeonghan’s hands wandered all over your body, feeling up every inch of your body that he could get his hands on. 

“Get me naked Jeonghan,” You let out a sound that was something even more desperate than a whine, but Jeonghan ignored your plea, continuing to attack your lips with his own, enjoying your pretty sounds as you got even more desperate for him to do something. 

“On your knees” Jeonghan ordered. A sudden shift in the atmosphere made you freeze. Jeonghan’s voice dropped an octave as he looked at you with lust filled eyes. “I’m not going to repeat myself” You instantly dropped to your knees and looked up at him, locking eyes with his own. 

“I’m going to use your throat like a fucking fleshlight. Okay?” Your body buzzed with excitement as you heard that, sure you’ve sucked cock before but never has anyone ever done anything like that. “Squeeze my thigh if you want me to stop” You only nodded enthusiastically and within an instant, he was ridding himself of his pants along with his boxers before he was pressing his hard cock against your open mouth. You eagerly sucked the tip of Jeonghan’s cock into your mouth, and began to tease the slit on the tip of his cock with your tongue. As you sucked his cock into your mouth, you could feel the wetness seeping out of your pussy. You did your best to ignore the urge to just have his cock in you. 

Jeonghan roughly pushed you all the way down on his cock making you gag immediately but you were quick to remind yourself to breathe through your nose. Jeonghan was pulling you up on his cock and slamming you back down with no relent. True to his word, he began to use you as if you were nothing but a toy, placing his hands on the sides of your face to get a better grip. His noises filled the room, tumbling out of his mouth in a way that only made you leak more on the floor of the hotel room. His one hand maneuvered to your hair, gripping tight as he began fucking into your mouth with even more force. In no time he was cumming down your throat, pushing your head all the way down his cock until his whole cock hit the back of your throat. 

“Get on the bed,” You obliged wordlessly, submitting to Jeonghan and whatever he wants of you. Making yourself comfortable on the bed, you gazed up at Jeonghan, watching as he stared down at you almost as if to mock the way you submit to him so easily. 

“Jeonghan-” Before you could finish Jeonghan delivered a light slap to your face. Muttering a small but stern ‘shut up’ 

"You speak when spoken to," he grits, glaring at you with dark eyes. He presses down on your cheeks, forcing your mouth open, you wince out in pain. “I’m gonna give you your safeword okay?” He didn’t really give you much room to agree before he assigned you a safeword, something easy for both of you to remember. You repeated it back to him to which Jeonghan smiled at your obedience. 

“Use it if you need to, okay? I won’t be upset if you do” Only after you nodded in understanding did Jeonghan inch closer to you to rid you of the rest of your clothes. He grinned when he caught a glimpse of your soaked pussy. “So wet already? Just from me fucking your face?” The question was rhetorical the way Jeonghan dropped to his knees, wasting no more time to dig his face between your legs. Dragging his lips between your slit, sucking your arousal onto his tongue. 

Tugging his shirt off, he fixes himself back between your legs. Letting out groans against your core, prompting you to moan out yourself. He presses a last kiss to your clit before pulling away.  He sits on the edge of your bed. “Sit that pretty pussy on my cock, slut.”  And again, you had no will in you to deny anything the man asks of you. Immediately making your way over and straddling his thighs. You take a deep breath before reaching down to guide him in. Feeling your stomach twist as the stretch slowly splits you open. Your eyes shut as you cry out at his thick cock stretching you open. “Why the fuck are you so tight. Holy shit” Jeonghan winces, his own eyes slamming shut at the feeling of your warm walls enveloping him in. 

“You’re too big—“ you whine, your head falling down to rest on his shoulder as you slowly begin to move up and down on his cock. But it didn’t go far before Jeonghan was wrapping his hands around your hips and taking over your movements with faster and harder ones of his own. 

You let out a string of moans at his intense pace making him chuckle. “Fucking slut. you like that dont you?” he gave a hard thrust, bottoming out inside your cunt. “Like getting fucked like this by a guy you just met, hmm?” You moaned out choruses of ‘yes’ as Jeonghan began rutting up into you. Moving a hand down to rub at your clit, your body jerked as you felt your high incoming. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum Jeonghan” Your voice came out in a high pitched whine as you rubbed your clit harder, body shaking as Jeonghan fucked you harder to help guide you to the edge. Your eyes roll back as your high hits you and Jeonghan helps you ride it out, not forgetting to kiss you through it too. The two of you with no care in the world for who can hear you. As the high of your orgasm dissipates, he flips you onto your back. He’s close too, you can tell by the way his cock is throbbing inside you and his thrusts turn erratic. 

“Cum inside Jeonghan.” You all but begged, Jeonghan moaning out before he also toppled over the edge. Cock throbbing erratically inside you as he emptied ropes of cum inside you. The two of you took a minute to calm your racing hearts before Jeonghan pulled out and flopped down on the bed next to you. 

“Holy shit” He huffed, looking over at your smiling face. “Please tell me you’ll give me your number” He was still out of breath and it only made you chuckle, rolling off the bed to pick up your purse from where he he face fucked you moments ago. Fishing out your phone, you unlocked it before handing it to Jeonghan who was nearly knocked out on the bed for him to put his number in and text himself. 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

Since the day you two hooked up at Jeonghan’s party, you’d started seeing each other more often. It’s not like you only seeked Jeonghan for your dick appointments. In reality Jeonghan was the one constantly calling and texting for when he can see you again. You won’t say that you minded it though. Sex with Jeonghan is an out of the world experience. Him making you feel highs you have never felt before with any other partner or yourself. 

As for Jeonghan? Jeonghan felt nothing short of smitten. Getting into his bed with anyone other than you made the most uncomfortable feeling arise within him and it had been practically days since he last saw you so he had to hit you up. 

jeonghan: i miss youuuuuuu  jeonghan: hi  jeonghan: cmon respondddddddd jeonghan: alright.. what position he got you in???  

you: [attachment: 1 video] 

You knew Jeonghan didn't expect you to actually send him a video of what position your last hookup had you in, you watched the video back and you couldn't help but get a little ego boost while watching yourself getting fucked by one of your coworkers, Joshua. He had you on all fours, hand gripping onto your waist as he fucked you.

Another thing you couldnt help is noticing how Joshua was not fucking you half as good as Jeonghan does. There's no bruises on your hips, there's no hair pulling, and the worst of all, there's no degradation. One thing about Jeonghan, for someone with such an angelic face, he has the nastiest mouth. It’s not something you're complaining about though, you would never complain about the way Jeonghan treats you in bed.

It wasn’t like Jeonghan was the only guy you could pull, never that. Jeonghan just happened to be one of the best guys you’ve ever slept with. Which might even be the only reason you keep going back to him. Something about the way he treats you just has you always craving more of him- not that you’d ever admit that to him but it was true. Jeonghan might call you all sorts of names in bed, treat you like some common whore, but right after he’ll always clean you up, attempt to hold you close, give you all the reassurance you need for you to know he doesn’t actually think you’re a common whore (not that it matters). 

jeonghan: what the fuck man… jeonghan: i’m about to have the saddest wank of my life  jeonghan: ^^^woah idk who said that jeonghan: might be the demons idk

you: have fun jeonghan <3

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

you: hey, you wanna come play beach volleyball tmrw @3? 

seungcheol: hmm seungcheol: i dont think i can make it, seokmin wants to hang. 

you: boo you whore. 

[seungcheol disliked “boo you whore.”] 

If there's one thing you hate, it would be your job. Sitting in the sun for hours on end and staring at people who were obviously having a lot more fun than you were. You thought you could invite Seungcheol so you could play beach volleyball but apparently the universe didn’t want you to enjoy your shift. But that’s when it hit you, you could just invite Jeonghan. Surely he wouldn’t let you down. 

you: hey r u free tmrw? 

His reply was almost instant. 

jeonghan: yea, why?

you: wanna play beach volleyball at the beach i work at? 

you: i'm thinking around 3pm

jeonghan: i'm down, which beach is it? 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

You saw Jeonghan’s car pull up to the beach almost thirty minutes before your shift was supposed to start, giving you thirty minutes to spare before the rest of your coworkers piled in to start their shifts. 

“Hey, Beautiful” Jeonghan called out as he got out of his car, leaning back against it as you approached him. “Hi Handsome,” You smiled back as you watched him give you a once over, looking at you in your work uniform, a simple red bikini with the word ‘LIFEGUARD’ printed on it in white. Jeonghan leaned down so that he could whisper in your ear, “Do you think I can make you cum before your shift?” You nodded, not trusting your voice to do the talking, knowing you’d accidentally moan or whimper out loud. 

“Get in the car then” 

You didn't need to be told twice, immediately you hopped in the backseat of Jeonghan’s car and he followed suit. There wasn't much time for foreplay so he leans in, connecting your lips eagerly. As if he’s been craving this for years and is finally being satiated. The limited space doesn’t offer much room to maneuver but Jeonghan shifts in between your legs enough to grind his clothed cock against your barely clothed core. The whole situation arousing you beyond belief, about to fuck Jeonghan in the back of his car, parked someplace where anyone could see what was happening inside. You could feel your arousal seeping out of your pussy and staining the seat of your bikini. Moaning out into the kiss you pushed your hips into his own, urging him to do something. 

“Jeonghan do something” You urge him in a hushed whisper, barely able to get the words out with the way Jeonghan was grinding into you so deliciously. Jeonghan merely hummed in response, halting his movements to slide down his swim shorts and free his aching cock. 

“You realize how much of a slut you are for this hm? Letting me have you like this where anyone can see you, hear you, find out how much of a slut you are for me.” Jeonghan’s gaze was dark, almost mocking you. You let out some sort of groan at his words. A chill running down your spine at the thought of what Jeonghan is gonna do to you. Flashbacks of the first night you spent with him running through your head. Jeonghan was so rough in a way that no one else had ever been with you and you couldn't help but admit that you loved every second of it. Being too absorbed in your thoughts, you couldn’t respond back to jeonghan which earned you a slap across your face. Your cheek stinging at the contact but nonetheless making you clench around nothing. The feeling of your damp swimsuit sticking to your core making you wiggle your hips in discomfort. 

“Pay attention to me slut” Jeonghan seethed, wrapping a hand around your throat and putting just enough pressure to have your eyes fluttering shut. “Beg for it if you want it” Another slap to your face, this time it was harder than before. Your eyes tearing up a little before you squeaked out a little ‘please’  Another slap. 

“You can do better” 

“Please fuck me Jeonghan” You pleaded, a tear running down your cheek at the hit. 

“Try again” His voice was softer this time, rubbing his free hand over the spot he just slapped. 

“Jeonghan please” you whined. “ Want everyone to hear how good you fuck me please” You begged harder this time, hoping this would be enough for Jeonghan and boy were you right. He pushes the seat of your bikini to the side before repositioning himself and pushing his length into you, moaning in delight as your walls stretch to accommodate his size. You cry out in pleasure, the feeling of finally having Jeonghan in you making more tears roll down your cheeks. He doesn’t take it easy though, keeping a steady, rough rhythm from the start. Pounding you into his backseat while watching you lose yourself in the feeling of him ramming into you. “You love it huh? Tell me how much you love it” You didn’t have it in you to deny it, fully aware of the way you literally begged him for it moments ago. 

“I fucking love it Jeonghan”  You gasp, his hand reaching down to rub at your clit in harsh circles. 

“Does anyone fuck you like i do?” He grunts, rocking his hips into yours harder, as if it was even possible with the way he was fucking you so hard you were positive anyone passing by could see the car visibly shaking. 

You shook your head immediately, “No one fucks me like you do” You confirm. Jeonghan hummed, your answer satisfying him enough that he tightened his hand around your neck once again and rubbing your clit with the other hand. The head of his cock fucks into your most sensitive spot and you feel all the thoughts in your head slowly disintegrate. Head full of only Jeonghan. You urgently reached out to grab onto something to steady something, quickly opting for his hand that was wrapped around your neck. You gripped his forearm with both hands, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your vision goes unfocused as your orgasm hits, letting out weak moans and gasps as the feeling consumes you entirely. Feeling it course through your whole body all the way down to your toes. Your walls constrict around Jeonghan the whole time, urging his own orgasm to hit him fast. 

“Gonna cum” Jeonghan warns. His thrusts turn erratic as he lets out a string of guttural groans. 

“Inside” You plead, “Need you to fill me up again please Jeonghan” Jeonghan moans loudly at that, your begging pushing him all the way over the edge. His eyes shut tightly and he groans out loudly. His body tensing up as he fills you up entirely. 

“Gonna be a good girl and keep that inside you yeah? All your little friends oblivious of the way you just begged me to slut you out” Heat rushed to your cheeks at the way Jeonghan was humiliating you but you agreed either way. Jeonghan’s eyes lit up when you nodded your head with a small smile. He took time to calm down before he slipped out of you wordlessly, ignoring the way you whine at the feeling of emptiness and fixing your bikini bottoms to cover you up again. 

After fixing himself up he spoke up again, “Can I kiss you?” Jeonghan asked, rather shyly, his demeanor a stark contrast to the Jeonghan that was pouding you into his backseat moments ago. You chuckled at his sheepishness. “Yes Jeonghan you can kiss me” Your voice was small but he didn’t hesitate to press his lips onto yours once again, this time the kiss was much softer than before. His hands cupping your cheeks as he used his thumbs to wipe your tears. 

You pulled away first. “Let’s get going? I think I’m already late” 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

“Why the fuck is he here?” Jeonghan muttered from beside you, watching as his teammate, Seungcheol approached your group. Ever the show off, Seungcheol was wearing only a pair of black swim shorts, showing off his toned body for everyone at the beach to see. 

You turned to where Jeonghan was looking and lo and behold, there was Choi Seungcheol. You and Seungcheol had….history. Well, not really history but you two have been fucking for a couple months and you were fully aware that he is Jeonghan’s teammate and its not like you were picking out the Ferrari drivers in specific to sleep with. The two of them were the ones who came onto you first. 

“Seungcheol?” You gasped, not expecting him to show up after rudely (not really) canceling on you. You felt Jeonghan’s arm tentatively wrap around your waist as Seungcheol approached. 

“Hey baby!” Seungcheol grinned, completely ignoring Jeonghan on your side, with his arm obviously wrapped around your waist. You heard Jeonghan mutter a small ‘baby??’ under his breath while continuing to faux nonchalance. 

“Hi Cheol! I thought you were gonna hang with Seokmin today?” 

“Well, I was, but Seokmin had to meet with Chan today” He shrugged, smiling wider showing off his stunning smile that initially captivated you. 

“Oh! Cheol, this is Jeonghan” You were quick to detangle yourself from Jeonghan’s arms, standing awkwardly in between the two men who were finally forced to make eye contact (thanks to you) 

“This is the new guy you fuck? Really? Had to be my teammate?” Seungcheol scoffed, losing the smile once adorning his face. 

“ Uh yeah, Hannie, this is Seungcheol.” 

“The other guy you fuck.” 

“Well, yes.” 

Jeonghan wasn’t too phased at first, especially considering it was Jeonghan’s cum currently inside you and not Seungcheol’s. Jeonghan sighed before speaking out once again, 

“Okay...let’s play ball?” 

“Let’s play.” And the three of you set out to join the rest of the group where they played volleyball. 

Jeonghan teamed with three of your three coworkers, Soonyoung, Yuta and Xiaojun. While Seungcheol teamed with your other coworkers, Vernon, Jaehyun and Joshua (yes, the same Joshua). You self appointed yourself as the referee for the round because you obviously didn’t want Jeonghan’s cum splattering out of you while you played.

That would not be ideal in front of your coworkers. 

As the round started, you noticed that Seungcheol in particular was putting a little too much effort into this, as if he had something to prove. Which you weren’t wrong, he did. He wanted to prove he was way better than Jeonghan at this (among other things.) but Jeonghan was hitting the ball back with little to no effort. 

You watched, amused as the two men on the court played as if no one else was around, as if it was a battle and they had to get past each other to make it to the final round. You think it might 

You were right, Seungcheol did have something to prove. He wanted to prove that he was the better one out of the two of them, as if it wasn’t Jeonghan’s cum currently in you. 

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a LOUD shriek. Only to see that Xiaojun was on the floor, holding his head in his hands while he cried out pathetically. 

“Xiaojun what happened!?” You ran towards the man on the floor.

“Seungcheol spiked the ball and it hit Xiaojun’s head” Soonyoung explained hurriedly, jumping in to do a poor attempt of CPR on him (though he’s a lifeguard. You’re not too sure how he got hired in the first place). 

“Get off me!” Xiaojun screamed when Soonyoung leaned in to give him mouth-to-mouth. 

“I got hit in the head I don’t need CPR idiot”

You did notice though, Seungcheol and Jeonghan were still playing amongst each other, not a clue in the world that they just took Xiaojun out and everyone was crowding around him. Well not anymore, Xiaojun was up and crowded away with Yuta and Soonyoung. You’d assume he was talking mad shit about the man who hit him in the head and didn’t even care to check on him. 

Typical Xiaojun. 

Also typical Seungcheol. 

As the round progressed, Xiaojun and Soonyoung dipped first, going off to get back to their jobs, then Yuta and Jaehyun also went on to do their own things and take care of their shift duties until finally Joshua and Vernon were about to head out too. 

“Dude, what the hell is their problem?” Joshua murmured, rolling his eyes at the two men still actively playing ball without noticing the absence of the others. 

You shrugged, “They’re both teammates and mad that I’m fucking them both. They both have something to prove to the other” You leaned in closer to whisper to Joshua.

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

jeonghan: hi y/n :) you: hi jeonghan :) 

jeonghan: i wanna see you :( 

you: aw really? 

you: my jeonghannie wants to see me o.O

jeonghan: yes :(  jeonghan: please? 

You snickered as you hit send on the video. A video of you while you were on your knees for a man whose face was not in the frame. With your lips wrapped around his cock - though unable to fully wrap around him. While you hollow your cheeks, lowering further down. The man grips your hair, holding your head still as you gag around his cock. 

“You’re such a good girl, taking me like a champ, princess.” He praises you. Hips bucking forward letting out raspy groans. 

That’s when he sees it. 

What was it? It was a silver ring with the word ‘Ferrari’ engraved on it adorning the man’s pinky finger, identical to the one on his own. 

The same ring that only two people would have. Him and his fuckass teammate.  

You fucking sent him a video of you sucking off Seungcheol.  

jeonghan: is that who i fucking think it is?? jeonghan: be so fucking fr. 

jeonghan: i'm coming over. 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

“Please give it to me, fuck, Jeonghan,” you stuttered, breaking away from the kiss to whine against his lips. He spent much too long rubbing his tip along your slit and you could not stand it anymore, you needed him in you immediately. 

 “Why don’t you ask Seungcheol hm? I’m sure he’d give you what you want more than I will”  His tone was taunting, he was obviously still bitter about the stunt you pulled earlier.  Not that it bothered you though, it just made the sex even more exhilarating. To know that Jeonghan is actually bothered by the video made you feel sort of giddy. 

You whined when he sunk barely just the tip inside of you before pulling it out again. Your  grip in his hair tightening as you felt the need to have him buried deep in you grow more and more. “Wanna cum on your cock. I wanna feel it inside me so badly. Please. Please give it to me.” You whined more, hoping Jeonghan would give in and he did, pushing into you ever so slowly but he made up for it by pressing his lips onto yours again. 

“You know I’m not going easy on you tonight, right?” Your lover of the night bottomed out in you, smiling at the way he could see you going dumb on his cock and he hasn't even done anything yet. 

“God, I’d hope not”

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

You haven't seen Jeonghan or Seungcheol in two weeks. 

Seungcheol has been AWOL but Jeonghan has been texting you nonstop. It was nothing sexual like the first few times he texted you. It was wholesome? Texts full of Jeonghan checking up on you, asking about you, wondering if you had eaten etc. 

This time however, Jeonghan texted you something different? 

An article. 

F1 - Ferrari sealed 1-2 in Silverstone ahead of Kim Mingyu. 

you: what the fuck is a 1-2 and why did ur team seal it 

jeonghan: i won p1 and seungcheol won p2 jeonghan: party tomorrow  jeonghan: ill end the deets. i better see you there

you: wtf?? thats AMAZING jeonghan congrats <33333  you: yeah, send the details ill be there :)  you: see you tomorrow!

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

You weren’t used to seeing Jeonghan and Seungcheol in the same setting, not after that hell of a volleyball game. And apparently you won't see them together this time around either because you’ve been at this party for half an hour and have seen every other driver on the grid except the two men you actually wanted to see.  You decided you’d just sit at the bar and sip on yet another vodka tonic. You watched the rest of the partygoers drink away and dance together while you sat here miserably waiting to find any of your two fuck buddies. 

Until you were pulled from your misery by none other than Seungcheol. 

“And why do you look so miserable?” He asked, taking a seat next to you. Your face lit up at his voice, “Cheol!” You grinned for the first time since you got here. 

“I’ve been by myself all night, Jeonghan invited me but i haven't seen him anywhere” You shrugged. Seungcheol watched as you downed the rest of your drink before he led you away from the main party area, pulling you into a dim corner. 

“You know, I’ve been dreaming about your lips on mine since the last time you came over” Your lips curled into a smirk at that, “Yeah? Are you gonna do anything about it?” 

Oh, he was. 

Seungcheol angles his head to perfectly lower his lips onto yours. Like any kiss with Cheol, it has you dazed and yearning for more, your fingers gripping at his shirt to pull him as close to you as possible.

You both part for air momentarily,looking into eachothers eyes with equally dazed stares. your heart racing from the thrill of making out with him where anyone could catch the two of you, not that you mind, but you’re sure Seungcheol’s career might. Though the thought doesn't last long until Seungcheol searches for your lips again, pressing his mouth hard against yours with not a care in the world as to who may see you. 

Except the only person who saw you was none other than Yoon Jeonghan. 

There was no word to describe how upset Jeonghan felt at that moment. You came to a party he invited you to, celebrating mainly him, where he spent an hour looking for you and youre making out with his fuckass TEAMMATE?

There were only two people that could save Jeonghan now. 

Mingyu and Seungkwan.

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

After he had to witness you and his teammate down each other’s throats the other day. Jeonghan is on a mission to win you over. There is no way he’ll let Seungcheol of all people get his girl. 

Seungcheol wasn’t even looking to settle, Jeonghan was.

According to your two closest friends, Mingyu and Seungkwan, there were 3 things that Jeonghan could do that would win you over. Which happened to do with the 3 things you loved the most. 

Music, Food, Sports.  

…Well, that was the only input they gave him. He just had to figure the rest of it out himself. 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

First thing: Music.

That was quite…simple? All he had to do was show you his fire music taste! 

So the next time he picked you up he’d just blast his tunes in the car and that’d be sure to have you swooning. 

Jeonghan rang your doorbell at 7:00pm on the dot. He seemed to have this whole evening planned out and you knew nothing except a text the day before asking if you were free at 7 today and it went on from there. He did specify to dress casual so you wore just a pair of shorts and a black tank top. 

“Hey” You smiled wide, opening the door to see an equally casually dressed Jeonghan. 

“Hey, you look cute.” You grinned at the compliment, gesturing inside for Jeonghan to come in but instead he just shook his head. 

“Let’s go, I’ve got plans for us” 

Jeonghan spent a good ten minutes trying to connect his bluetooth to his car, assuring you that you’d love the songs he’s picked out for tonight only to play the most ratchet music you think you’ve ever heard. 

“What the hell is this Jeonghan?” You grimaced, appalled by his choice of music 

“It’s Mozart!” 

“How the fuck does that make it better?” 

Jeonghan only sighed and handed you his phone with his music app opened. 

“Play whatever you want” 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

Second thing: Food

Jeonghan’s attempt to be…romantic? Was not as successful as you think he’d hoped. His plan was to cook together while sipping wine and have a cute little night. 

Cooking with someone was not something you enjoyed. 

Jeonghan was on vegetable duty while you were on sauce duty. Though time with Jeonghan was enjoyable, what you did not enjoy was him repeatedly coming in your way while you maneuvered around the kitchen. 

“Jeonghan, MOVE” Your frustration reached its max when Jeonghan was hunched over, eyes watery from the onions he was cutting but he was hunched right in the middle of the kitchen, leaving you with no space to pass. 

“I CAN’T SEE” He screeched, finding his way over to the sink in an attempt to rinse out his eye. 

God, he’s such a dork. 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

The last part of Jeonghan’s plan was to woo you with Sports. 

There was no better sport to enjoy with you other than his own! He’ll just invite you to the race this week! 

jeonghan: hey jeonghan: you wanna come to the race this weekend? Its in hungary its gonna run friday-sunday but we arrive on thursday  jeonghan: tix on me :) 

you: wtf?? of COURSE i want to go :O 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

And just like that, you found yourself in a hotel in Hungary on a random Thursday morning. Well, it wasn’t random, you were invited to the Hungarian Grand Prix by none other than Yoon Jeonghan himself. 

Speaking of, Jeonghan had asked if you wanted to go explore the village with him on your off day and who were you to deny an offer like that? So here you were, rushing your makeup at 9 in the morning. Jeonghan was supposed to come to your room at about 9:30 so you have less than thirty minutes to be ready and out the door. 

Jeonghan showed up at your hotel room at 9:30 on the dot, wearing a variant of an outfit youve seen him wear a million times, baggy jeans with an oversized shirt. True Jeonghan fashion you’d say. 

“Good morning beautiful” He greeted, walking into your hotel room and closing the door behind him before backing you up against the wall. 

“Good morning handsome” You can't lie and say you didn't internally cringe at that, no matter how true the words actually were. Jeonghan himself grimaced, his face centimeters away from your own “Never say that again please” 

You rolled your eyes, “God forbid a woman try complimenting a man for once” 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

You and Jeonghan spent all day exploring the city. Going from coffee shop to coffee shop, spending hours walking aimlessly around and even checking out the track. You  enjoyed Jeonghan’s company more than you’d like to admit. Jeonghan was a witty guy. He was funny, hot, really fucking good in bed but most of all he was genuine. That’s one thing you loved about Jeonghan that Seungcheol didn’t have. Where Jeonghan’s intentions with you were clear as day, Seungcheol? You were not too sure what the fuck his intentions were with you. 

You knew you weren’t technically supposed to dig this deep into either of them. After all, they were just your fuckbuddies, people you only saw when you were horny and needed release but you still couldn't help but feel more drawn to Jeonghan than you did Seungcheol. 

Jeonghan was a genuinely good person whose company you actually enjoyed and you knew he did enjoy yours too. Seungcheol however ignored all your texts until he was the one that needed release and you didn’t have a problem with that until now.  Until Jeonghan brought it up. 

“You know, I really like spending time with you. Aside from the sex” It came from out of the blue when the two of you were walking back to your hotel. 

“So the sex just sucks huh?” You looked at him with a mischievous grin 

“You know that’s not what i meant” 

“I know, I really enjoy spending time with you too Jeonghan” He smiled at that, pulling you closer by the hip until you were pressed right by his side. The two of you walked in a comfortable silence until he spoke up again. 

“You know, you should stop seeing Seungcheol” 

You chuckled, this wasn’t the first time Jeonghan has hinted towards how much he doesn’t like you fucking his teammate. 

“Yeah, okay” 

“I'm serious! It might have to do with the fact im like fucking obsessed with you or the fact that I know Seungcheol doesn’t want you like I do but I swear, the way i want you does not compare to the way he wants you” Your eyebrows raised at that, you knew you prefer Jeonghan over Seungcheol but hearing him tell you why you should pick him over Seungcheol is just all the more satisfying. 

“Why do you think so?” 

“Because-!” He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands, not wanting to tell you how much he wants you. How he stays up thinking about how it’d be if you were his. 

“Because I like you beyond the sex, I want a relationship with you. I don’t wanna have to share you with anyone because I’m greedy and I want you for myself. I wanna show you off as mine without anyone else coming in the way. I want you Y/N” 

You stopped in your tracks, prompting him to stop with you as well. “You want to date me?” 

“Really fucking bad. Please let me?” 

“Okay” You nodded, acting nonchalant on the outside when you were actually going fucking insane on the inside. “I’ll be your girlfriend but only if you ask me out properly” Jeonghan all but jumped for joy, screaming a couple choruses of “YES!!” 

“Y/N, light of my life, will you please be my girlfriend?” he playfully rolled his eyes

“I’d love to!” you smiled wide, his own smile mirroring yours before he leaned in to kiss you sweetly, in the middle of a street in Mogyoród. 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

The next morning, Seungcheol was just doing his normal pre race rituals when all of a sudden he heard an awful lot of giggling just outside of his room. 

What the hell could be so funny right before a race? 

He swung his door open only to see Jeonghan sitting on the couch while you sat on his lap, one leg on either side of him while the two of you smooched away like a couple of highschoolers on their first date. 

“I think I can come P1 today! After All, I have my beautiful girlfriend here to cheer me on” Jeonghan teased, cupping your face so he can press yet another kiss to your lips. 

“Yeah? Good luck out there boyfriend. I’ll be cheering for you” 

Girlfriend??? Boyfriend??? Since fucking when? The last time Seungcheol remembers, you were not looking for anything close to even a situationship, let alone a relationship. 

That kinda explains it too, you’d been too busy with your stupid boyfriend to return any of his calls or texts for the past few days too. This is exactly why Seungcheol hated couples. Gross. 

Screw Yoon Jeonghan, he stole his girl in plain sight. 

Well, not really his girl. Realistically Seungcheol was just tryna hit. Much like yourself until you met Yoon fucking Jeonghan. 

Cheol knew he wasn't all that upset about the situation but he had to mess with Jeonghan just for the fun of it and man was he geeked. 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

You couldnt fucking believe what you were seeing. Today was the day of the first two free practices and the only two drivers on the track who were not behaving were none other than your very own. 

Normally, Jeonghan and Seungcheol would stay very…civil during their races but something was off today. Jeonghan was minding his business, leading the race like he usually does until in comes Choi Seungcheol and overtakes him. 

So naturally, Jeonghan starts to speed up and get back in the lead. Which lasts maybe a minute until in comes Choi fucking Seungcheol again and runs him off the track. 

What the hell was Seungcheol’s problem today? 

The race continued to be a mess of Seungcheol messing with Jeonghan, overtaking him then running him off the track and repeating it. You could tell Jeonghan was getting frustrated. Hell, even you were getting frustrated. 

Did Seungcheol find out about you and Jeonghan? 

God, you’d hope this wasn't the result of Seungcheol’s…jealousy? There really wasn't anything to be jealous about on his end but still, if it was, that’s not okay and you were going to speak to him about it. The race went on like that, with Cheol repeatedly provoking Jeonghan and Jeonghan fighting back. You could hear the chattering of the people around you talking about the two of them and how it was ‘so odd that they’re acting this way!’ 

As expected, Jeonghan came P1 and Seungcheol came P3. P2 was none other than your best friend, Boo Seungkwan! The race went surprisingly well after the second to last lap and continued to trail behind Jeonghan who was in P1.

“Jeonghan!” You squealed, embracing him in the tightest hug possible but immediately pulling away when you made contact with his sweaty body. 

“Baby” He whined, pulling you back into his embrace, ignoring your noises of protest. You gave up the fight without much convincing, hugging him back tight and congratulating him over and over. 

“Wait, I’ll be back.” 

You excused yourself from Jeonghan and went on to find the one and only..

“Choi Seungcheol!” You muttered, aggressively making your way over to the ever so sweaty man sipping away at his Hydrorace water bottle. 

“Hey gorgeous” He cheekily smiled at you, pulling the straw away from his lips. You scoffed, annoyed by how calm he seemed after what he pulled out on the track today. 

“Don’t ‘hey gorgeous’ me, what the hell was that on the track today? You know either one of you could have gotten hurt, right?” You were practically fuming. 

“You know I'm smart enough to not let either of us get hurt out there right?” He mimicked your tone. Whatever he said didn’t matter in the moment, you were too heated to even think straight. 

“Talk to me when you’ve calmed down, Y/N.” And with that, he walked away from you. 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

 It was finally time for confrontation. 

You pulled out your phone camera to make sure you look decent enough to confront Seungcheol. Once you made sure you looked okay, you tucked it away in your  back pocket. Taking a deep sigh before knocking on Seungcheol’s hotel room, waiting for him to open the door. “Hey, Cheol…” You greet hesitantly, stepping inside and closing the door behind you, locking it shut just in case.

“Y/n…it’s so nice to see you!” Seungcheol smiled bitterly. “After you practically blew up on me in front of everyone today.” His fake ass smile dropped. 

You grimaced, hiding your face in embarrassment. “Don’t be like that, I just want to apologize.” You offered a small smile. 

“Delta time can be time too late, Y/N.”

If there was an embodiment of a question mark, it would be you right now. “You know I don't understand when you use racing speak, Seungcheol.”

“Delta time…anyway, just, don’t worry about it. I know you made your choice. Especially by the way you just full-named me. ” 

“Cheol-”

“We had a good run, yeah? don’t worry about it.” He smiled, “This doesn’t mean I don’t want to be friends though you know. I just want you to be happy even if it’s not with me and with my…teammate.” You could sense the lack of sincerity at the end. Seungcheol was not happy about this and you knew that. 

“Thank you Cheol” You smiled, opening your arms and offering him a hug which he gladly accepted, engulfing you in the most warm hug you’ve ever received from him. 

It wasn’t easy to let Cheol go but you had to do this for Jeonghan. 

You were the first to pull away from the hug. You gave him a smile before turning on your heels. 

“See you at the race on Sunday?” 

“You know it.” 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

“It’s just me and you baby” Jeonghan breathed against your lips, pinning you up against the wall and relishing in the way you sigh out in relief when he finally presses his lips to yours. “Be as loud as you want love” 

Jeonghan knew damn well it was not just the two of you, somewhere in one of the stalls was Seungcheol. He was about to walk out when he heard you and Jeonghan at the door and ran into a stall to avoid being caught. 

“Please Jeonghan” You whimpered when he pulled away to trail his lips down your neck, “Touch me, please?” 

“I am touching you”  

“Jeonghan” Your voice raises a pitch. Jeonghan can’t stand it, he loves how your squirm and whimper, so desperate to get fucked by him. Something in him loves how pretty you sound when you beg, especially when you scream his name with your eyes rolling back into your head. 

“Please, please fuck me…”

“Shut up.” He groans, proceeding to jackhammer two fingers inside of you. You yelped in surprise, leaning back onto the wall, gripping onto Jeonghan’s arm to hold yourself up. Jeonghan’s other hand trails up and covers your eyes. Hold around your head tight, leaving you more vulnerable to his ministrations. 

“I want your cock Jeonghan, please” He loved that your noises were getting louder but he knew that when you finally got his cock you’d be even louder. Just what he wants for your little audience. Jeonghan halts his fingers in you and smears the wetness all over your aching pussy. 

“Pussy’s so wet for me, know why?” Jeonghan smirks,  “Cause you’re a fucking slut, and all sluts know how to do is take cock.” And without warning, he glides the entirety of his length in at the same time and you were left gasping at the stretch. 

“J-Jeonghan..” you moaned loud, “You’re so fucking big. Oh my fucking God.” Jeonghan chuckled, setting a brutal pace from the start. You could never get tired of fucking Jeonghan, every time with Jeonghan bringing you to a new wave of euphoria even you couldnt fathom. 

“Yeah? Who fucks you this good huh?” Jeonghan wrapped his hand, previously covering your eyes around your throat and applying just enough pressure to make you see stars. “You, Jeonghan! Only you can fuck me this good” His thrusts were sloppy but they were so hard and deep. Tears rolled down your cheeks with every thrust as your body buzzed with pleasure.

“Good fucking girl” He praised, “You’re so good to me aren’t you?” You couldn’t respond. You don’t think you had it in you to say anymore. Just letting moan after moan leave your lips as you writhed under his hold. 

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, smiling at the way you attempted to kiss him back. 

“My pretty girl, only mine.” 

[kooklovee]

Yours for a year - JJK

PROLOGUE

One year, one contract, one fake marriage. Nothing could possibly go wrong, right?

Pairing - Ceo!Jungkook x Reader

Genre - fake/contract marriage au, grumpy x sunshine, strangers to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst, smut (MDNI)

Warnings - family pressure for marriage, inner thoughts, different perceptions of love👀, tae is a mutual friend, reader is a uni professor

Wc - 1.8k words

a/n - as mentioned, this is just the prologue- just so yk the bg )) I'm thinking of doing 5 chapters max bt those are not even close to finishing.. just bits and pieces🫠 so final update will be only when I've finished AND satisfied with what I've written :) pls be patient <3

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

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Jeon Jungkook believed in a lot of things. But love wasn’t one of them.

Because it wasn’t a necessity in Jungkook’s life.

Love? That four-letter word people threw around like it held the universe together? He didn’t get it. Never had. Never wanted to.

He doesn’t believe in love. Not in the way movies or books paint it. Love is just a concept people cling to.

People made it sound like some grand, life-altering miracle. Like one person could walk in and suddenly your world shifted on its axis. Jungkook never understood how that worked. Why people gave up sleep and sanity and sometimes, even logic, for something so unpredictable.

He never saw the point.

What he did understand? Stability. Purpose. Building something that lasted—not based on feelings, but on facts. Work gave him that. Running Jeon & Co gave him that. He liked being in control. Liked knowing the next step.

And to be fair, his life was good. Great, even.

He had everything he wanted. His career, his family, and his dog- Bam curled up by his feet at the end of every day.

He didn’t need dinners for two. He didn’t need someone to hold. He didn’t need to wake up next to someone who snored or stole his covers or left their shampoo bottles next to his.

He liked the quiet.

He’d seen people fall in love, watched it bloom around him like a damn rom-com montage. Everyone around him seemed to be in on this big- clued into this big magical concept that just didn’t land for him. Like they’d all read a manual he somehow missed.

Love, to him, wasn’t something worth chasing.

So no, he doesn't dream of it.

His older brother, Seojun, was the one originally set to take over Jeon & Co. But somewhere in university, he got an interest in cameras, film reels. So he changed paths, started his own production house- something he was passionate about, something the family supported. Jeon Seojun, now happily married to the love of his life, Harin, and later blessed with a cute little bundle of joy—Rae.

Then there was his sister, Aera—also married, already a successful fashion designer, living abroad with her artist husband and sending aesthetic postcards from every continent.

That left Jungkook. The youngest. The one who was good at everything.

The golden boy. The straight-A student, top of his class, excelled in everything he touched.

So he took the reins. Quietly. No complaints. Took the company to even greater heights. Built Jeon & Co into one of the most respected names in the industry.

He didn’t need anything else.

His life was simple, structured, successful. And he liked it that way.

But now, the gentle nudges from his family started turning into obvious conversations- about marriage.

Even his grandmother had joined the marriage cheer squad, talking about how nice it would be to see him settled, how much she wants to see her youngest grandson married while she’s still around.

They’d been patient for years. But lately, it was like everyone in the Jeon family had decided enough was enough.

So when his mother casually mentioned over dinner that they’d been talking to a friend about a potential match—a lovely girl, smart, already familiar with the family- something in Jungkook snapped.

He didn’t even want to get married—least of all to someone he didn’t know. Not a life partner chosen by someone else. Not a stranger who’ll live with him, sleep beside him, and share the parts of him he doesn’t even know how to share.

So he did the only thing that made sense in that moment.

“I already have a girlfriend.”

The room had gone silent.

Five pairs of eyes stared at him.

And now, here he is, wondering what kind of fucking mess he’s dragged himself into just to avoid being shackled into a marriage with a stranger.

But Jeon Jungkook wouldn’t let anyone dictate what he did with his life.

Especially not when it came to his heart.

Love, was a chaos.

And chaos had no place in his life.

Later that night, he called Taehyung,—the one person who’s been there since their school days, unsure of whether he needed a plan or just someone to tell him he wasn’t losing his mind.

Taehyung, in fact, didn’t think it was that bad of a situation at all. At least not one without a potential fix.

That’s when the idea came up—something so bizarre and impractical. Jungkook couldn’t believe he was actually considering it,

A fake marriage.

Taehyung had suggested like it was the most logical solution. Just a year. One year of pretending to be in love and married. Long enough to satisfy his family, long enough for everyone to believe it had been real. And then—well, things wouldn’t work out. They’d “divorce,” separate, move on with their lives.

At first, Jungkook dismissed it outright.

He couldn’t fathom the idea of someone sharing his space. His home was the only part of his life untouched by the outside world. His world ran on precision and privacy. Letting someone into that world- even under a fake arrangement, felt like crossing a line he’d drawn years ago.

And besides, it couldn’t be just anyone. His family wasn’t stupid. If he suddenly showed up with a complete stranger, they’d see through it in a second.

That’s when Taehyung said he might know someone—that he trusted, that she was dependable. She wasn’t from Jungkook’s world, which might actually work in their favor.

Taehyung promised to talk to her first, see if she’d even be willing to consider something this ridiculous.

The entire idea of a fake marriage felt childish. But the more he thought about it, the more it made a strange sort of sense. At least this way, he’d have control over who entered his life, buy him a year of peace—freedom from the constant “marriage talk”.

Just one year, after all.

"It’s the third time I’m saying no, Taehyung. Don’t you get it?"

You huffed into the phone, flopping down into your office chair. Your cardigan sleeves were already pushed up from the two-hour lecture you'd just delivered, your notes still a mess on your desk.

You had barely gotten a sip of water before your phone buzzed, and of course—of course, it was Taehyung.

“I’m not asking you to marry a serial killer,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “It’s Jungkook.”

“Exactly,” you muttered. “The CEO Jeon Jungkook. Not exactly someone I see fake marrying for any reason.”

Your voice dropped to a whisper-shout as you turned away from the glass pane in your office door.

You’d never met Jeon Jungkook before. Not even once. Just heard about him in passing from Taehyung. "My best friend from school," he’d always say, tossing the name around like it was no big deal.

Like Jeon Jungkook wasn’t this corporate enigma. A hot prodigy in business, son of a chaebol family, making a name for himself in the most unnervingly silent way.

You remembered the buzz when it had happened—articles, interviews, headlines, the ‘mystery heir’ who never spoke unless he had to. He disappeared from the public eye just as quickly, and that was that.

Until Taehyung showed up at your door yesterday, looking far too excited for someone about to propose a fake marriage arrangement.

It had sounded insane at first. Because it was insane.

Taehyung had explained you the situation Jungkook got himself into, with the same energy someone might use to pitch a movie script.

And what was his solution?

You.

“It’s just a year,” he said now, voice sliding back into persuasion-mode. “One year. So it looks real. You two live together. Make it convincing enough so his family backs off. Then you divorce, like fake divorce whatever, and it’s over! No harm done. It's not like you're actually getting married.”

You stared at the ceiling, “Tae. That’s not normal. You know that, right?”

He snorted. “Neither is rent in Seoul. Come on. You told me your roommate left, you’ve been searching for a new place. This solves that plus you get paid too! A logical person would never say no to this, Y/N. You don’t have to pretend in front of the whole world. Just his family. Think of it like a job.”

You bit your lip, annoyed by how tempting that actually sounded. You were indeed searching for a new place ever since your roommate had gotten transferred across the country. You hadn’t realized how ridiculously unaffordable rent was until you’d started living alone. And this offer, as ridiculous as it sounded, came with a house and money.

Still. A fake marriage?

You weren’t exactly the fake-it kind of girl. You'd always held this quiet belief in old-school romance. The kind that was built slowly, like a soft song that stayed. But you’d also lived long enough to know life wasn’t a movie.

Back in your student days, you’d buried yourself in textbooks, not people. Relationships weren’t something that you felt urgent back then.

Then life happened. Work took over. The days got busy, and dating just… never found its way in.

Love, to you, was about ease.

About finding someone naturally, in moments that didn't feel curated.

But you'd still tried some years back- a few blind dates your friends sent you on, awkward setups, the usual.

But nothing ever felt right. Nothing ever felt real.

Romance was something you assumed would fall into place eventually.

You wanted something that just... happened.

When it was meant to.

And now, after years of quietly waiting for something real, you were being considered for the role of a fake wife.

You almost scoffed at the absurdity.

“He doesn’t even know me,” you sighed.

“He knows I trust you. That’s enough for him. So technically he won't be letting a complete stranger moving into his house,” Taehyung said, like that explained everything.

You blinked. “So I’m just... the least suspicious option?”

“That's just a bonus,” Taehyung laughed. "But no, really, just think about it."

“What if his family hates me? And his mom throws a Birkin at my head?”

He groaned. “You’re being dramatic. They’re nice people, Y/N. No one's gonna throw anything at you, I promise.”

“I mean, come on,” Taehyung added playfully. “I just know you’re gonna be a really good actor.”

You rolled your eyes at the unnecessary buttering he was doing.

You could’ve actually considered this whole fake marriage drama. Because as much as it sounded stupid, sure, but it also sounded fun to you.

But again, he wasn’t just any man.

You were just a regular girl with a regular job and a "not-so-glamorous" life. But you enjoy it, being a university professor with a cluttered desk, a habit of losing your pens at least three times a day and considered laundry a full-body workout. You liked your little routines.

But you were also someone who definitely didn't live in the same world as his.

So the idea of faking a marriage- especially to someone like Jeon Jungkook, a man who basically belonged in the pages of Forbes—felt so far out of your league it was laughable.

Even thinking about being tangled in something like this with someone like him felt strange.

But maybe...

it wouldn’t be the worst idea.

It was almost New Year’s. And People made wild resolutions all the time, right?

Maybe this was a little main character arc you never saw coming.

It’s not like you had wild plans for New Year’s anyway.

Just one year, after all.

What worse could happen?

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[diamonddaze01]

Fake it Til You Make it

pairing: boo seungkwan x f!reader | wc: 18K genre: coworkers au, fake dating au, fluff, humor, suggestive, angst warnings: language, alcohol consumption, suggestive scenes a/n: for cam&em’s lonely hearts cafe collab (everyone go read every fic or i will Find You) // this is a continuation of morning rush enormous thank you to @ylangelegy and @haologram for beta-ing this <3333

summary: You could honestly throttle Seokmin right now. Of all the half-baked, caffeine-fueled ideas he’s ever had, convincing the entire office that you and Seungkwan—your sworn nemesis and parking spot thief—are madly in love might just take the cake.

Seokmin has a plan. A really, really, really good plan. He’s sure of it.

Mostly.

He leans against the breakroom counter, nursing the world’s saddest cup of instant coffee, and considers the potential fallout. Sure, you and Seungkwan will probably strangle him (or, in your case, make an entire PowerPoint on “Why Lee Seokmin Deserves to Be Laid Off”), but the rewards outweigh the risks. Seokmin glances toward the hallway, where the faint sound of Aera and Ayoung’s laughter echoes, their voices just a pitch too smug. No, this plan is flawless. Foolproof. Nobel Prize-worthy, even.

All he has to do now is sell it to the two people who loathe each other the most in the office.

He hadn’t meant to open his mouth, but God, Aera and Ayoung had to have been demons crafted by the devil himself, the kind that thrived on overpriced lattes and the scent of shattered self-esteem. Seokmin had just been passing through the hallway, minding his own business—okay, eavesdropping a little—when he caught wind of their conversation.

“Honestly, I don’t know why she even bothers coming to these galas,” Aera had said, inspecting her manicure like it held the secrets of the universe. “It’s not like anyone actually notices her. She’s basically furniture.”

“Right? What’s the point if you don’t have someone on your arm?” Ayoung had added, with a theatrical sigh. “But then again, who would even want to go with her? She’s so…. ugh.”

The “ugh” had been the final straw. Seokmin hadn’t thought twice—he’d stormed over, ready to unleash a tirade about how you were the hardest-working person in the office, how you’d single-handedly carried your team through last quarter’s hellish project, and how you absolutely deserved more respect.

Instead, what came out of his mouth was: “Y/N has a date. Obviously.”

The two women blinked at him in unison, their perfectly sculpted eyebrows raising in surprise. “Oh?” Aera recovers quickly, tilting her head. “And who’s the lucky date? You?”

Seokmin laughed, loud and unconvincing. “Me? No, no, I’m going with Soonyoung, like I always do.”

Ayoung narrowed her eyes. “Then who?”

And this is where Seokmin’s brain had short-circuited. He glanced around the room, as if the walls might offer some divine intervention. Nothing. Just the faint hum of the vending machine. His mind raced, searching for a name that would shut them up, and then—

“Seungkwan,” he blurted out.

Both women stared at him, stunned. “Seungkwan?” Aera repeated, incredulous.

“Yep! Seungkwan,” Seokmin had said, doubling down because he knew there was no turning back. “They’ve been together for ages. Super lowkey about it, though. You know how Seungkwan is.”

The silence was deafening.

“Seungkwan,” Ayoung echoed, her expression twisting into disbelief. “Boo Seungkwan. As in, ‘my parking spot is sacred ground’ Seungkwan?”

Seokmin’s grin tightened. “The very same.”

For a moment, the two women exchanged a look, processing this unexpected development. Then, to Seokmin’s immense relief, Aera shrugged. “Huh. I guess that makes sense. They’re both kind of…intense.”

“I mean, they fight like an old married couple,” Ayoung had added, smirking.

“Exactly!” Seokmin said, clinging to the lifeline they’ve unknowingly thrown him. “Soulmates, right?”

The rumor spread faster than an office email about free donuts, and by lunchtime, it seemed like everyone had an opinion about your supposed relationship with Boo Seungkwan. The first domino fell when Mingyu slid into the seat across from Seungkwan in the cafeteria, tray in hand and a knowing smirk plastered across his face. He casually tossed his napkin onto his lap, but there was a glint in his eyes that made Seungkwan pause mid-bite.

“So,” Mingyu began, spearing a piece of chicken with far too much casual flair, “you and Y/N, huh? Cute.”

Seungkwan, who had been halfway through chewing a mouthful of rice, immediately choked so violently he nearly toppled the entire tray. The force of his cough was so dramatic that Joshua, seated a few spots away, paused mid-bite and gave Seungkwan a couple of hard thumps on the back, muttering a half-hearted “Jesus, dude” under his breath. The rest of the table fell silent, watching the spectacle unfold with varying degrees of concern and mild amusement.

“Excuse me?” Seungkwan sputtered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes wide with a mixture of horror and confusion.

“You know…” Mingyu leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially, the way someone would when revealing state secrets. “You. Y/N. The whole undercover thing.” He paused for effect, looking around as if making sure no one else was eavesdropping. “Honestly, I didn’t see it coming, but it makes sense. You two do bicker like an old couple. It’s kinda cute, actually.”

Seungkwan froze mid-chew, his chopsticks hovering in midair, as his brain scrambled to process Mingyu’s words. Undercover thing? Old couple? Y/N?

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Seungkwan said flatly, his voice a mix of exasperation and genuine confusion, although a tiny bead of sweat had already begun to form at his temple. He glanced around, noticing the way a few of his coworkers at the nearby tables were suddenly pretending to be deeply invested in their food, but the side glances they were stealing were hard to miss.

Mingyu squinted, his expression becoming exaggeratedly serious. “Don’t play dumb, Seungkwan. Aera and Ayoung said you and Y/N have been secretly dating for ages. Ages. Like, seriously. You two are practically the office power couple.”

Seungkwan stared at Mingyu, not entirely sure whether he should laugh or start hyperventilating. His eyes flickered to Joshua, who was now giving him a sympathetic glance, and then back to Mingyu, whose grin had only grown wider with every passing second. The conversation around them had slowly started to fade into the background, leaving only the sound of Seungkwan’s rapidly beating heart in his ears.

For a brief moment, the only sound was the clatter of utensils against trays, and the faint sound of someone sneezing a few tables over, as though the entire room was collectively holding its breath. Then, with the force of a dam breaking, Seungkwan exclaimed, “WHAT?!”

The sound was so loud and high-pitched that the people around them flinched. Mingyu’s smirk only deepened.

“Yeah, you heard me,” he said, as if the news was the most normal thing in the world. “You and Y/N—together. Lowkey, sure, but people are noticing. Honestly, I'm impressed. You've got good chemistry. You bicker, you glare at each other like it's a sport, and boom—no one can resist you two.”

Seungkwan’s eyes widened even further, if that was possible. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out for a solid five seconds. “You... Mingyu, this is—this is insane. We’re not—”

“I mean, you guys do fight like an old married couple,” Mingyu added, completely unbothered. “Classic relationship stuff.”

Seungkwan let out a high-pitched groan, dropping his chopsticks onto his tray as he slumped back in his seat. Joshua patted him on the back with a sympathetic look. “Honestly, man, at this point, I think everyone’s already betting on how long you two last.”

Seungkwan turned a death glare on Mingyu. “Mingyu, I am not dating Y/N, okay? Not. I don’t even—”

“Sure you’re not,” Mingyu said with a wink, leaning back and taking a leisurely sip of his drink. “But hey, if you need help smoothing it over, let me know. I could use a good laugh.”

Meanwhile, you were in the middle of a relatively peaceful afternoon, lost in your work, when Soonyoung burst into your workspace like a caffeinated golden retriever on a sugar rush.

“Congrats!” he announced, voice loud enough to startle the intern two desks down, who nearly spilled her coffee in the process.

You blinked at him, genuinely perplexed. “For what?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him, unsure whether this was a prank you weren’t in on yet.

“For the relationship of the century, duh!” Soonyoung said, plopping into the chair next to you like he owned the place. He threw his feet up onto the corner of your desk, barely missing the pile of reports you’d been working on. He propped his chin on his hands, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You and Seungkwan—genius. Absolutely genius. I mean, I was wondering when you two would finally make it official, but keeping it lowkey? Perfect. Who came up with it? Was it you? It had to be you.”

Your face contorted into a mix of confusion and horror, the words barely registering. “What are you talking about? What relationship?”

Soonyoung leaned in closer, like he was about to share some highly classified info, lowering his voice to a dramatic whisper. “The PR stunt, obviously! Aera and Ayoung are eating it up. Honestly, you and Seungkwan should start charging them rent for all the space you’re taking up in their heads. They're obsessed. It’s amazing.” He gave a pleased little clap. “Love to see it.”

“PR stunt?” you echoed, voice climbing in pitch. “Seungkwan?”

“Don’t be shy!” Soonyoung winked, his eyes practically glittering with pride. “You’re playing it so cool. I gotta hand it to you, you two are perfect at the whole ‘undercover couple’ thing. No one saw it coming. Now, with all those entertainment rumors about you two, people are talking. It’s the kind of buzz I can only dream of.”

You slammed your laptop shut with a dramatic bang. The sound made Soonyoung jump. "I’m going to kill him."

Soonyoung, unfazed, simply leaned back in his chair with a grin. “You should. But first, enjoy the chaos, because it’s already spreading. I mean, even the office Slack is buzzing about your ‘relationship.’ I think it’s time for you to play the long game.”

Before you could respond, Soonyoung was already pulling out his phone and swiping through a group chat on his screen. You could feel your headache forming as he muttered something about “setting the record straight” and “beating Mingyu’s office poll on couple dynamics."

Seokmin was mid-sip of his third coffee of the day when the breakroom door slammed open with enough force to make him spill.

“What the—” Seokmin started, dabbing at the mess with a crumpled napkin, but he didn’t get to finish because you and Seungkwan stormed in, practically radiating wrath. It was like watching a SWAT team execute a mission—except the target was him and his questionable life choices.

“You!” Your voice cracked through the air like a whip as you jabbed an accusatory finger in his direction.

“YOU!” Seungkwan echoed, his tone sharp enough to cut glass. His finger joined yours in solidarity, a united front of pure fury.

Seokmin froze, cornered between the sink and the vending machine, his coffee mug clutched like a makeshift shield. “Me?” he squeaked, his eyes darting between your expressions, both etched with a mix of betrayal and irritation.

“Yes, you!” Seungkwan snapped, stepping closer with the air of a man who had reached the end of his rope. “Do you want to explain why Mingyu just asked me if me and Y/N are naming our future pets after luxury brands?!”

The words hung in the air for a beat, heavy with absurdity.

“Luxury brands?” you echoed, your tone disbelieving.

“That’s not the point!” Seungkwan said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. He rounded back on Seokmin, who looked like a deer caught in a pair of particularly unforgiving headlights. “Explain. Now.”

Seokmin hesitated, his mind spinning like a faulty gear. He could feel a bead of sweat forming at his temple. “Okay,” he began carefully, stalling for time. “First of all, you’re welcome.”

The sheer audacity of the statement hit like a slap.

“You’re welcome?” you and Seungkwan chorused, voices dripping with incredulity.

“Yes!” Seokmin said, puffing up his chest slightly as though he were presenting a brilliant thesis. “You don’t understand how horrible Aera and Ayoung were being. They were saying awful things about you, Y/N! I had to defend your honor.”

“And your solution,” you said, your tone calm but with an edge sharp enough to slice through steel, “was to fake-date me with Seungkwan?”

“Yeah, Seokmin,” Seungkwan added, his hands flailing in emphasis. “I mean, if you wanted to fake-date Y/N, at least pick someone plausible. Like, I don’t know, Mingyu.”

“Hey!” you snapped, your glare whipping to Seungkwan.

“What?” Seungkwan asked, blinking in genuine confusion. “It was just an example.”

“Enough!” Seokmin groaned dramatically, throwing his hands in the air as though burdened by your collective lack of vision. “Look, it worked, didn’t it? Aera and Ayoung bought it! They even said you two bicker like an old married couple!”

“That’s not a compliment!” Seungkwan exclaimed, his voice rising an octave.

“And,” you interjected, stepping forward, your expression unnervingly calm but your tone laced with menace, “now the entire office thinks we’re in a relationship. So, how exactly does this ‘plan’ of yours end?”

Seokmin’s grin faltered slightly, his bravado cracking just enough to reveal a hint of unease. “Uh… with you two faking it for a bit longer? You know, until Aera and Ayoung find someone else to gossip about?”

Seungkwan let out a groan, dragging a hand through his hair in frustration. “You are unbelievable.”

“And you’re fired from planning anything ever again,” you added, your voice dripping with finality.

Seokmin opened his mouth to respond, his face twisting into a defensive expression, but the door creaked open before he could speak.

All three of you turned to see Soonyoung poking his head inside, his phone clutched in one hand. “Hey, not to interrupt, but I just posted a poll in the office group chat: ‘Who’s the power couple—Seungkwan and Y/N or Soonyoung and his plants?’ You’re winning by 72 percent, by the way.”

The room fell into stunned silence.

“You’re all insane,” Seungkwan muttered at last, snatching his coffee off the counter and storming out in a whirlwind of righteous indignation.

“Seokmin,” you said through gritted teeth, each syllable dripping with warning. “Fix this.”

Seokmin raised his mug in a mock toast, his grin resurfacing. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan.”

“Oh, no,” you groaned, turning on your heel. “We’re doomed.”

Seokmin’s apartment is as much of a disaster as you’d expect for a man who owns a single fork and three mismatched plates. The couch is one ill-timed flop away from breaking, and the "decor" consists of a faded movie poster, a dying plant, and a string of half-working fairy lights. Yet, somehow, it’s become the Friday night spot.

You, Seokmin, and occasionally Soonyoung gather here weekly like clockwork, cobbling together meals from his barren fridge, drinking yourselves silly, and venting about work. It’s an unspoken tradition, one that began with a pity invite after a particularly hellish week and quickly solidified when you discovered that, despite his lack of utensils, Seokmin could cook better than half the office put together.

Tonight, however, you’ve barely cracked open a bottle of soju when Seokmin starts talking about your “relationship” with Seungkwan.

“I’m just saying,” he slurs, stirring a pot of ramen with a spatula (his one and only cooking tool), “if you and Seungkwan fake-dated, Aera and Ayoung would shut up. It’s genius!”

You groan, sprawled on the lumpy couch with a glass in hand. “Seokmin, I’d rather die.”

“Would you, though?” he says, squinting at you like he’s cracked the code to life. “Because imagine showing up to the gala with Seungkwan on your arm. They’d hate it. And you’d look hot.”

You swish the remaining soju in your glass, frowning. “I don’t need Seungkwan to look hot.”

“Exactly! Which makes it better. He’d be like your hot accessory. Like a really angry Gucci bag.”

You snort at the thought of Seungkwan as a designer handbag and open your mouth to argue when Seokmin’s expression turns suspiciously earnest. “Look, I’m your work husband. I’d never steer you wrong. Just trust me.”

Your brain, already fuzzed from alcohol and exhaustion, betrays you. “Fine,” you mutter, waving your hand. “Whatever. I’ll fake-date Seungkwan.”

“REALLY?!” Seokmin drops the spatula with a clatter and claps his hands. “Great! Let me tell Soonyoung it’s safe to come in!”

“What?” you snap, sitting up so fast the room tilts. “What do you mean, safe to come in?”

“Yeah,” Seokmin says casually, wiping his hands on his pants. “He’s been waiting outside with Seungkwan for the 45 minutes it took for me to convince you.”

“LEE SEOKMIN, I WILL FUCKING THROTTLE YOU!”

You launch your slipper at him, but he ducks. The projectile sails past him and hits a new target—a very startled Seungkwan, who has just walked through the door.

The slipper connects with his thigh with a muted thwack.

Shocked silence fills the room.

Seungkwan glares at the three of you like you’ve all personally wronged him. “Nope. Nope, nope, nope. I’m going home. All of you motherfuckers are insane.”

“Wait!” Soonyoung and Seokmin leap forward, grabbing Seungkwan by the arms and dragging him back inside. He protests the whole way, muttering about how he “knew this was a terrible idea” and “should’ve stayed home.”

Thus begins the chaos.

Seokmin slaps the paper onto the coffee table like he’s presenting a groundbreaking thesis. In messy, barely legible letters, he’s scrawled FAKE DATING CONTRACT across the top.

“We’re doing this right,” he announces, brandishing the sharpie like a microphone. “Discussion topic number one: PDA.”

“None,” you say, raising your soju bottle in a mock toast.

“No PDA?” Soonyoung protests from where he’s sprawled across the armrest of the couch. “How is that going to convince anyone you’re dating? You can’t just stare at each other awkwardly across the room!”

“I don’t stare at people awkwardly,” you snap.

“Yes, you do,” Seungkwan deadpans. “That’s, like, your whole thing.”

“Excuse me?” you shoot back, glaring.

“Alright, alright!” Seokmin waves the sharpie between you like a referee breaking up a fight. “Compromise: hand-holding is allowed.” He starts writing it down, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth.

“And cheek kisses,” Soonyoung adds brightly.

“No way!” Seungkwan bursts out, looking betrayed.

“It’s just a cheek!” Soonyoung protests. “You don’t even have to look at her.”

“Wow,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “Thanks for the enthusiasm, darling.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Seungkwan snaps, arms crossing. “Did you want me to lie and say I’m thrilled to be fake-dating the office menace?”

You grab a couch cushion and smack him over the head with it. “I wouldn’t have to be a menace if you weren’t so insufferable!”

“Guys!” Seokmin groans, pointing the sharpie at both of you like it’s a weapon. “Focus. Cheek kisses are in.” He scribbles it down while Seungkwan mutters something about treason.

“And you,” you add, pointing at Seungkwan, “are bringing me coffee every morning for six weeks from that café across town.”

“Like hell I am!” Seungkwan glares. “You know how far that is?”

“Yes, which is why you’re doing it,” you snap. “Call it emotional compensation.”

“You’re not getting coffee and the parking spot!” Seungkwan shouts, sitting up straight.

“The parking spot was mine first!”

“Your car doesn’t even fit in it properly!”

“Then I’ll make it fit!”

Seokmin scribbles something on the paper and holds it up with an exasperated flourish. “Okay, joint custody of the parking spot. You’ll alternate weeks.”

“That’s stupid,” you mutter.

“So are you!” Seungkwan fires back, and you lunge for another cushion.

“Guys!” Soonyoung yells, snatching the cushion out of your hands. “Rule number three: no throwing things at each other while in public.”

“I’m not signing that,” you say immediately.

“Neither am I,” Seungkwan agrees.

“Fine,” Seokmin grumbles, crossing it out. “Next rule: no kissing on the lips.”

“That should’ve been rule number one,” Seungkwan mutters, and you chuck a slipper at him for good measure.

“Rule number five: you have to act nice to each other in front of Aera and Ayoung,” Seokmin adds, barely pausing as Seungkwan yelps.

“Oh, great,” you say sarcastically. “So now I have to fake-date him and fake-like him?”

“Yeah, real tough,” Seungkwan scoffs. “Try fake-liking you for five minutes.”

“Okay, rule six: no insults while in public,” Seokmin says, scribbling furiously.

“Define ‘insult,’” you say.

“You just called me a moron five minutes ago!” Seungkwan protests.

“That’s not an insult,” you argue. “It’s an observation.”

“Oh my God,” Seokmin groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You’ll both bring snacks to the gala,” Soonyoung interjects, leaning over Seokmin’s shoulder. “That way, when you start arguing in public, at least you can shove food into each other’s mouths.”

“That is not going on the list,” Seungkwan says, shooting him a glare.

“It’s already on there,” Seokmin chirps.

The arguing goes on and on, fueled by soju and petty grievances, until the paper is crammed with hastily written rules, half of which contradict each other. Seokmin holds up the finished product triumphantly.

FAKE DATING CONTRACT(written and notarized by Lee Seokmin, Esq. of Bad Ideas LLC)

No PDA.

Exception: hand-holding is allowed.

Exception to the exception: no clammy hands.

Cheek kisses are mandatory for believability.

Mandatory?! – Seungkwan

Yes. – Soonyoung

No lip kissing, EVER.

We’re not that committed to this.

Joint custody of the parking spot.

Weeks will alternate.

If one party is late to the spot, they forfeit their turn.

Coffee Clause:

Seungkwan will deliver coffee every morning for six weeks.

It must come from the café across town.

Why do I have to do this? – Seungkwan

Because you’re annoying. – Y/N

No throwing objects at each other in public.

Or private! – Seungkwan

Not negotiable. – Y/N

Insult ban in public spaces.

“Moron” is not an insult, it’s an observation.

This feels targeted. – Seungkwan

Be nice to each other in front of Aera and Ayoung.

Smile. A lot. Pretend you’re not arguing.

How am I supposed to do that?! – Y/N

Snacks must be brought to the gala.

If bickering begins, snacks will be used to shut each other up.

This rule is offensive. – Seungkwan

Duration of fake dating: until Aera and Ayoung lose interest or find another victim.

No extensions allowed.

All parties must try to look reasonably attractive during public appearances.

Define ‘reasonably.’– Seungkwan

Just don’t embarrass me. – Y/N

Any disputes regarding this contract will be arbitrated by Soonyoung and Seokmin.

Oh, we’re gonna regret this. 

Practice sessions required before the first public appearance.

“Practice” may include hand-holding, smiling, and general fake-couple behavior.

Can we practice not doing this? – Seungkwan

Signed, Y/N & Boo Seungkwan Witnessed by: Lee Seokmin & Kwon Soonyoung

“Done!” he declares. “Time to sign.”

You glance at the chaotic list and groan. “I hate this.”

“Sign it anyway,” Seokmin says, shoving the sharpie into your hand.

You scrawl your name at the bottom with all the enthusiasm of someone signing away their soul. Seungkwan follows suit, muttering curses under his breath.

“Great!” Seokmin beams, snatching the paper and sharpie. “Now, time to practice!”

“Seokmin, it’s 3 AM!” you whine. “Let me go home!”

“NO!” Soonyoung and Seokmin yell in unison.

Practice begins in earnest with Seokmin standing in front of you and Seungkwan like a drill sergeant, clipboard in hand. Soonyoung is sprawled across the couch with a blanket, looking far too comfortable for someone instigating chaos.

“Alright,” Seokmin says, tapping his pen against the clipboard. “First order of business: compliments.”

“Compliments?” you echo, your tone flat. “We’re fake-dating, not auditioning for a rom-com.”

“Yes, compliments,” Seokmin says, with the exaggerated patience of a kindergarten teacher. “If you can’t fake a little affection, no one’s going to buy this. Start with something small. Seungkwan, you go first.”

“Fine,” Seungkwan sighs, turning to you. “Your… outfit is fine.”

“Wow,” you deadpan. “Don’t hold back.”

“Fine! You looked pretty that one day you wore a dress to work,” he says, crossing his arms defensively.

Your stomach flips unexpectedly, and you hate that it does. That wasn’t what you’d expected him to say. The memory surfaces unbidden: you, rushing into the office late for a meeting, fumbling with your presentation slides. You barely noticed Seungkwan staring, too preoccupied with apologizing to the executives that were staring at your whirlwind entrance.

Now, you remember the day too well, and you shove the memories down immediately. “That’s it? One day out of, like, a thousand?” you say, masking your unease with a smirk.

“Take it or leave it,” he snaps.

“Your turn,” Seokmin says, gesturing at you.

You glance at Seungkwan, already regretting what you’re about to say. “You… make people laugh.”

“That’s the best you can do?” Seungkwan scoffs, but there’s a flicker of something softer in his eyes.

“Okay, fine,” you grumble. “You’re good at your job. People like you. You’re… charming, I guess.”

The room goes silent for a beat, and you feel heat creeping up your neck.

“Well,” Seungkwan says after a pause, his voice quieter. “Thanks.”

“Okay, compliments, check,” Seokmin interjects, scribbling something illegible onto the contract for no discernible reason. “Next, hand-holding!”

“Seriously?” you groan.

“Yes!” Soonyoung shouts from his sprawl on the couch. “You’re going to have to do it in public! Get over it!”

Reluctantly, you hold out your hand. Seungkwan looks at it like you’ve just offered him a live grenade.

“Stop stalling,” Seokmin says, smirking.

Seungkwan grabs your hand, and the moment your palms meet, you recoil. “Why is your hand so clammy?” you demand, grimacing.

“Because I’m stressed, you monster!” Seungkwan shoots back. “Stop squeezing so hard!”

“I’m not squeezing—your hand’s just weird!”

“My hand is weird?” Seungkwan huffs. “Yours is dryer than the Sahara!”

“You’re both weird!” Soonyoung yells, throwing a couch pillow at your heads. “Try again, and this time, don’t look like you’re holding hands with a corpse!”

The both of you roll your eyes but try again. This time, it’s… slightly better. Seungkwan’s hand is still clammy, but at least he’s not actively complaining. 

By the time Soonyoung pipes up again, the sun is starting to rise, casting pale light through the blinds.

“Alright, final test,” he says, stifling a yawn. “You’ve gotta kiss her cheek.”

“What?!” you and Seungkwan exclaim in unison.

“You’re going to have to do it in public anyway!” Soonyoung argues, gesturing grandly from the couch. “This is practice!”

“I am not kissing—”

“Just do it,” Seokmin says, cutting Seungkwan off with a weary wave of his hand. “The sooner you do, the sooner we can all sleep.”

You open your mouth to argue, but before you can, Seungkwan leans over. His hand finds your shoulder for balance, and then—soft and fleeting—his lips brush your cheek.

It’s over in a heartbeat, but your stomach flips like you’re falling from the top of a roller coaster. You can still feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the faint pressure of his lips, and it sends a shockwave of emotions crashing through you—confusion, nervousness, and something suspiciously like longing.

Seokmin looks at you knowingly, and your heart stutters in your chest.

“I have to go,” you mutter, grabbing your jacket in a rush. You can’t stay here—not with Seokmin’s knowing smirk, not with Seungkwan’s kiss replaying on a loop in your head. “See you Monday.”

Before anyone can stop you, you’re out the door, the crisp morning air biting at your cheeks as you flee Seokmin’s apartment like it’s on fire.

The parking lot is unusually quiet as you pull in, a sharp contrast to the whirlwind weekend you’re still trying to process. You hadn’t slept much since fleeing Seokmin’s apartment, your thoughts tangled in half-drunken banter, hastily scribbled contracts, and—worst of all—the lingering warmth of Seungkwan’s lips on your cheek.

A glint of sunlight off a familiar car catches your eye, parked a few rows back. Seungkwan’s here early. Of course he is. You can already feel your mood souring, bracing yourself for whatever fresh nonsense he’s decided to stir up this week.

Sliding into The Spot, you glance around, expecting the usual hustle and bustle of the office, but your focus sharpens the moment you spot them—Aera and Ayoung, lingering suspiciously close to your desk. You feel the groan build in your throat. It’s too early for this.

“Look who’s finally here,” Aera says the moment she spots you, her voice carrying easily over the din.

You keep walking, shoulders stiffening as Ayoung chimes in. “Big weekend, huh? Let me guess, late-night dinner dates with you know who?”

“Or maybe a romantic getaway?” Aera adds, giggling. “He seems like the type to splurge, doesn’t he?”

You don’t take the bait, just set your bag down at your desk, pointedly ignoring them.

But they don’t stop. Ayoung leans against the edge of your cubicle, her grin sharp. “Seriously, though. How does it feel? Dating the Boo Seungkwan.”

You glance up at her, exasperation seeping into your voice. “What is your problem?”

“No problem,” she says innocently, her expression anything but. “We’re just... curious. I mean, it’s not every day someone like him ends up with... well, you.”

There it is. The thinly veiled insult. Your fingers tighten around your bag strap, heat rising to your cheeks. Before you can snap back, Aera gasps, her attention snagging on your desk.

“Oh my god. Is that a coffee?” Her tone is mockingly saccharine as she picks up the cup, waving it in front of you. “And a note. ‘As requested - xo Seungkwan.’ How adorable.”

Ayoung practically cackles. “He even knows your order. Wow, this is... honestly shocking.” She isn’t wrong - it’s your exact order, right down to the weirdly specific oat milk ratio you insist on.

“Shocking?” you repeat, glaring.

Aera shrugs, clearly reveling in your discomfort. “I mean, come on. You’re you. He’s... him. It’s a little hard to picture, don’t you think?”

You open your mouth to retort, but a new voice cuts in before you can.

“Do you two ever get tired of this?”

You don’t even need to look to know who it is. You turn just in time to see Seungkwan stride over, exuding confidence like he’s been rehearsing this moment. He doesn’t even look at Aera and Ayoung; his focus is entirely on you as he slides an arm around your waist.

The casual weight of it is jarring, grounding—and completely unnecessary. Your heart stutters in response, though you’d die before admitting it.

“Is there a problem here?” Seungkwan asks, his tone all business, though you catch the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes.

Aera’s confidence wavers for the first time, her mouth opening and closing as she scrambles for a response. Ayoung, to her credit, looks equally flustered.

“No problem,” Aera says finally, her voice quieter now.

“Good,” Seungkwan replies smoothly. He glances down at you, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Enjoy your coffee, babe.”

With that, the two of them retreat, mumbling half-hearted excuses as they shuffle back to their desks.

As soon as they’re gone, Seungkwan drops his arm like it burned him, and the absence of his touch is... startling. Disorienting. You hate how much you notice it.

“What the hell was that?” you hiss, rounding on him.

He doesn’t even look fazed. If anything, he looks amused. “You’re welcome.”

“Welcome? For what? Making things worse?”

He nods toward your desk. “They’re gone, aren’t they?”

You narrow your eyes at him, your frustration mounting. “Why did you even—what is this?” You gesture vaguely to the coffee, the note, the whole absurd situation.

“A contract is a contract,” he says simply, already turning to walk away.

“Wait.” You grab the coffee, pointing it at him like a weapon. “How did you even know my order?”

He pauses, glancing over his shoulder with that infuriating smirk that makes you want to throw the cup at him.

“I have my ways.”

“Seungkwan!” you call after him, but he’s already walking off, the faint echo of his laughter trailing behind him.

You slump into your chair, glaring at the coffee like it’s somehow responsible for all of this. Your phone buzzes, and you pull it out, immediately opening the group chat with Seokmin and Soonyoung.

Y/N: which one of you mfs told seungkwan my coffee order [NOT] tiger: 👀 [NOT] tiger: not it seok: pinky swear not me seok: hm seok: didn’t think he’d actually get you coffee Y/N: how the hell does he know? [NOT] tiger: maybe he just [NOT] tiger: knows[NOT] tiger: soulmate fr Y/N: blocking you. seok: wait seok: did he get it right? Y/N: YES Y/N: that’s the problem!!! seok: hmm [NOT] tiger: HMMMMM

You toss your phone onto your desk, groaning into your hands. Mondays were supposed to be bad, but this? This was a new level of torment. And somewhere in the back of your mind, you can’t stop replaying the warmth of Seungkwan’s hand on your waist—and the way, just for a moment, it didn’t feel so bad.

Tuesday morning. You arrive at your desk to the familiar sight of a coffee waiting for you, the cup steaming invitingly as though it’s supposed to make you feel better about the day ahead. As you drop your bag onto the desk and take in the sight of it, your stomach tightens—because this time, Seungkwan’s waiting for you. Standing there like a kid in a candy store, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth as if he knows exactly how to mess with your head.

But today is not the day.

Not after this morning.

You don’t know if it's the car breaking down in the middle of a torrential downpour, or if it’s the fact that your landlord decided today was the day to demand rent five days early and threaten eviction over the tiniest of issues—either way, you’re running on fumes and patience.

When Seungkwan opens his mouth to speak, you don’t even look up. You take a long, slow breath and mutter, “Not today.”

You don’t hear him move at first, and for a moment, you almost think he’s going to leave it. That maybe, just maybe, he’s finally catching on that not every moment is for him. But then, his voice—sharp, defensive—cuts through the air.

“What’s your problem today? I get it, you’re having a bad morning. But I’m trying to be nice here.”

You can’t help it; the words spill out before you can stop them. “I don’t need your pity coffee, Seungkwan. I don’t need your help.”

His eyes flash, the usual teasing glint replaced with something more serious. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

You don’t answer, just fold your arms over your chest, staring hard at the computer screen, trying to block him out. “Just…go away, Seungkwan.”

His eyes widen, and something flickers behind them—hurt, maybe? But before he can say anything else, you hear the unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat. You look up, realizing you’ve attracted a small crowd.

Aera and Ayoung are standing a few desks away, watching you two with wide, curious eyes. They’ve been lurking long enough to catch the exchange, and you can practically feel their glee radiating off them.

“Everything okay, [Y/N]?” Aera asks, barely hiding her amusement.

Your stomach sinks. You know exactly what they’re thinking: public fight, public gossip. You know you’re not supposed to care, but you do. You absolutely do.

Seungkwan must’ve seen it, too, because in a flash, he’s grabbed your hand—your hand, like it’s the most natural thing in the world—and yanks you toward the breakroom. You stumble slightly in the direction he pulls you, not expecting the sudden contact. Your heart races, and for a split second, you wonder if this was what it felt like before. That warm feeling flooding your chest, the butterflies in your stomach.

But then the door to the breakroom slams shut, cutting off the noise of the office, and Seungkwan lets go of your hand.

He crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the counter, eyes narrowed. “Spill. What’s going on?”

You can’t hold it in anymore. The tension cracks, and before you know it, the tears are spilling out.

“I’m just so tired of everything,” you choke out, the words tangled in the rush of emotions. “My car is broken down, my landlord’s being a total jerk, and everything’s just—ugh. It’s just too much.”

You blink, feeling embarrassed, but Seungkwan doesn’t make fun of you. Instead, his gaze softens for a moment, just enough that you almost don’t believe it. Almost.

“Good,” he says suddenly, and your heart stutters. “You broke the contract.”

You lift your head, confusion wrinkling your brow. “What?”

“The contract.” He says it as though it’s obvious. “You snapped at me in front of Aera and Ayoung. That’s my parking spot for the rest of the week.”

You stare at him, blinking in disbelief. And then, before you can stop it, a laugh escapes from your lips—soft, genuine, and so not what you expected.

“Seriously?” you ask, trying to wipe away the tears that suddenly make you feel so small.

His face softens, just for a moment, before that look fades as quickly as it came. But for a brief second, you could’ve sworn he looked... endearing?

“Don’t laugh,” he mutters, crossing his arms again, leaning back against the counter. “I have principles.”

You can’t help but smile at that, and for the first time today, you feel lighter. You can’t quite place the warm sensation in your chest, but it’s there, flickering like the embers of something you don’t want to acknowledge.

“Hey,” he says with a half-grin, “a contract’s a contract.”

And then, without another word, he turns and walks out, leaving you standing there in the breakroom, a little lighter than before.

When you return to your desk, you’re not sure what you expected. Maybe you thought Aera and Ayoung would leave you alone, but no. Of course not. They’re standing by your cubicle, eyes glued to you, ready to pounce.

“Oh, look who’s back,” Aera says, feigning sweetness. “Everything okay? You two seemed like you were having quite a heated conversation.”

Ayoung raises an eyebrow, almost mockingly. “Yeah, what was that? We didn’t expect Seungkwan to be so... protective.”

You stiffen, but before you can say anything, Seungkwan strolls in casually, all too aware of their prying eyes. He throws a casual arm around your shoulder and leans in, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks in a teasing tone.

“A lover’s spat,” he says smoothly, looking at Aera and Ayoung with a shit-eating grin. “Nothing to see here.”

You freeze for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden closeness of his body. You don’t move, don’t push him off, and you hate how right it feels, even if it’s just for show.

They seem to buy it, nodding and turning away, though you know the gossip mill will be churning with this new twist.

The rest of the day passes by in a blur, and when the lunch hour arrives, Seungkwan casually approaches your table, offering in his usual nonchalant manner, “I’ll drive you home today.”

The casualness of it almost makes you choke on your lunch. Seokmin, who had just taken a sip of his drink, immediately spits it out in Soonyoung’s face. You can’t help but laugh, but when Seungkwan shoots you a look, you quickly compose yourself.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, voice calm but firm. “Seokmin already agreed to jump my car and drive me home.”

Seungkwan shrugs, but there’s a knowing look in his eyes. “Whatever you say, babe.”

Later that evening, as you’re in the car with Seokmin, he turns to you, his gaze intense. “What’s going on with you and Seungkwan?” he asks, his voice uncharacteristically serious.

You deflect, shrugging it off with a nonchalant tone. “Nothing. We’re just...” You trail off, unsure of how to explain it.

Seokmin doesn’t let up, his gaze never leaving you the entire drive home.

When you get home, you’re still thinking about Seungkwan—about his hand in yours, the warmth that flickered in his eyes when you laughed.

Later that night, you get a text from Seungkwan. You roll your eyes as you unlock your phone.

Later that night, you get a text from Seungkwan. You roll your eyes as you unlock your phone.

Seungkwan (WORK): what color dress are you wearing to the gala?

Y/N: why

Seungkwan (WORK): because it’s in two days idiot Y/N: ok and Seungkwan (WORK): what kind of boyfriend doesn’t match ties to his girlfriend’s dress

You pause for a moment, then text back,

Y/N: midnight blue

There’s a long pause before he replies.

Seungkwan (WORK): we’re gonna aera and ayoung the fuck up Seungkwan (WORK): you’re welcome.

You snort, rolling your eyes, but something in the back of your mind feels a little lighter. You look at the screen again, trying to push away the warmth that’s creeping into your cheeks.

You try to shake off the weird fluttering in your chest, but it’s hard when you can’t stop thinking about the way he smiled at you in the breakroom.

Then, after reading the text one last time, you throw your phone aside and scream into your pillow for a solid 30 seconds.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?” The pillow muffles the sounds of your frustration, embarrassment, and maybe something else all rolling together.

It’s Wednesday, and you’re feeling... strange. So, as a silent apology of sorts, you leave Seungkwan's parking spot open for him, not even pretending it’s not a deliberate move. And to make it worse (or better, depending on how you look at it), you stop by his favorite restaurant—thanks to a very begrudging Mingyu who’d been the one to tell you at 6 AM—and leave a packaged meal on his desk with a simple note: "i’m sorry."

By the time Seungkwan walks in, there’s a triumphant grin on his face and a coffee in hand. You don’t even have to look up to know what’s coming—he’s practically floating from the excitement of seeing his spot waiting for him.

As you stand to meet him, your fingers brush ever so gently when he hands you your order. It’s the smallest of touches, but for some reason, your pulse quickens.

"Thank you for the food," he says, his voice sounding strange—almost sincere, which isn’t like him at all. "But how did you know my favorite restaurant?"

You can’t help the smirk that stretches across your face.

"I have my ways," you reply, leaning in just a little, your voice cool and teasing as you echo his words back from Monday. The playfulness between the two of you feels oddly familiar, and for a moment, there’s something in his eyes—just a flicker—that catches you off guard. But you shove it down before it can fully register.

Seungkwan arches an eyebrow, lips curling into that mischievous smile of his, but before he can say anything, you already know what comes next: more teasing, more playful bickering. It’s almost comfortable, like this entire fake-dating charade is starting to blur the line between what’s real and what’s not.

But the strangest thing of all is the way your heart is beating a little faster than it should.

You don’t know why you’re bothered. You can’t even really pinpoint the reason why, but when you walk past Seungkwan’s desk and see him sitting there, earbuds in, his face subtly twitching in response to a few of your colleagues’ whispers, something inside you snaps. It’s not your usual reaction to the gossip at work—it’s the way he seems oblivious to the hurt he's trying to hide, like he’s expecting it. Your mind races as you overhear them, the words sticking to you like bitter honey:

“Seungkwan’s just a joke with the dating thing. You can tell he’s not even on the same level as her,” Kevin’s voice rings out, “I mean, she’s crushing it, and look at him. He’s just... there.”

“He’s lucky she even pays attention to him,” Juyeon adds with a snide laugh.

And that’s when your heart clenches, the sound of their voices mixing with the hurt look in Seungkwan’s eyes as he watches the screen, his posture slumping in a way that you’ve seen too many times to ignore.

You tell yourself you don’t care.

But you do.

And before you can stop yourself, you march toward his desk. Your palms are sweaty, but your resolve is steady, and when you reach his side, you throw your arms around him from behind, your body leaning into his warmth, your chin resting on his shoulder as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. You’re telling yourself it’s all just an act. Just a game. Fake dating, after all, is supposed to be easy.

But the feeling of his body stiffening under your arms, his breath catching, makes your stomach flip in a way you didn’t expect. You force yourself to smile, to say the words like they don’t matter.

"Hey love," you murmur, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek that feels far too real for what it is, "wanna get lunch?"

For a moment, Seungkwan just stares at you, dumbfounded. His eyes search yours as if trying to figure out whether this is part of the act or something more. You don’t give him a chance to answer. Instead, you interlace your fingers with his, pulling him to his feet and out of the seat, dragging him to the cafeteria without another word.

The air between you feels thick, but somehow, it doesn’t matter. You keep your grip on his hand as if it’s the only thing tethering you to reality. When you reach the lunch line, Seungkwan mumbles under his breath, his voice low but filled with something you can’t quite place.

“Thank you,” he says, and the words feel heavy, like they mean something far more profound than you expected.

You glance at him, trying to keep your face neutral. "Why do you put up with all this?" you ask, hoping to keep the conversation casual. But the question feels more vulnerable than you’d like.

He shrugs nonchalantly, though his gaze drops to the ground as he talks. "Come on, I get worse from you. I can handle a little shit talk from people who don’t know what they’re talking about.”

But something in his voice, something sharp and tired, makes your heart sink. The idea that you’ve made him feel like he’s “just there” rattles you. That you’ve unknowingly added to his burdens—because in this moment, it feels like you are the reason he’s doubting himself.

“Seungkwan, I didn’t mean—” you begin, but he cuts you off with a small, almost bitter smile.

"It’s fine," he murmurs, but there’s a flicker of something unsaid in his expression.

The rest of lunch is quieter than usual, and you both keep stealing glances at each other, unsure of what to say or how to fix the awkward tension that now lingers between you. When the two of you return to your desks, you half-expect him to brush it off and act like nothing happened, but instead, Seungkwan shows up at your desk after lunch, and for a moment, you think maybe he’s just here to grab something he left behind. But when he looks at you, his gaze softens.

"I’m sorry,” he says, looking almost... shy? “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about the way I said that. I know you don’t... mean to be like that."

You swallow hard, feeling your heart twist, guilt and frustration building in your chest. “No, I... I shouldn’t have said anything either. I’m sorry, Seungkwan."

His eyes flicker, like he’s trying to read you, but then he cracks a smile. "Maybe we both just suck at this fake-dating thing."

It’s a lame attempt at humor, but it works. The tension lifts slightly, though the understanding between you two is still fragile. You force a chuckle, then give him a genuine, if a little uneasy, smile.

And just like that, the awkwardness starts to dissipate.

For now, anyway.

Thursday starts off strangely, though you try not to dwell on it. When you pull into the parking lot, The Spot is open for the first time in weeks. It takes you a second to process the empty space, the absence of Seungkwan's familiar car parked a few rows back.

The sight feels...off.

Your first thought is that maybe he’s running late, but a quick glance at the clock tells you that’s impossible. Seungkwan is never late. Your second thought—that maybe he’s working from home—is more logical, but it doesn’t explain the odd pang of disappointment settling in your chest.

It’s fine. Better, even. You’re busy enough today that you don’t need to see his smug smile or deal with the inevitable teasing that comes with it. Besides, tonight is the gala. He’ll show up there, looking sharp and polished, and you’ll do what you’ve been doing for weeks: play the part.

So why does the thought of not seeing him today feel heavier than it should?

You brush it off as you head into the building, but the feeling lingers. Your desk is bare when you get there—no coffee, no scrawled Post-it, no familiar, cocky energy waiting for you to roll your eyes at. You should feel relief.

Instead, it throws your whole morning off.

By the time you find yourself in the breakroom around noon, your nerves feel frayed. Deadlines loom over your head, your inbox is exploding, and now Soonyoung and Seokmin are leaning against the counter, watching you like hawks with identical grins.

“Excited for tonight?” Seokmin asks, his voice far too cheerful as he tears into a granola bar.

You glance at him, eyebrows raised. “What do you think?”

“I think,” Soonyoung interrupts before Seokmin can respond, “that you’ve been pretending not to care, but you’re actually super nervous about walking into that gala with Seungkwan.”

“I’m not nervous,” you snap, reaching for the coffee pot.

“Sure,” Seokmin says, his tone dripping with skepticism. “You’re totally calm. That’s why you’ve been fidgeting with your bracelet for the past five minutes.”

Your hand freezes, and you glance down to see your fingers toying absently with the charm on your bracelet. With a muttered curse, you reach for a mug instead, but the damage is already done.

Soonyoung smirks. “Uh-huh. Definitely not nervous.”

“I’m not,” you insist, pouring your coffee with more force than necessary.

“Then what’s with the bracelet?” Seokmin presses, grinning like he knows he’s got you cornered.

You glare at him over your shoulder. “Maybe I just like the bracelet, Seokmin. Ever think of that?”

“Or maybe,” Soonyoung drawls, dragging the words out obnoxiously, “you’re thinking about what it’s gonna be like to walk into that ballroom tonight on Seungkwan’s arm.”

Your hand twitches, spilling coffee onto the counter.

“Oh my god,” you groan, grabbing a napkin and swiping at the mess.

Soonyoung clutches his chest dramatically. “You didn’t deny it.”

“There’s nothing to deny!”

Seokmin snickers. “You’re deflecting.”

“I’m ignoring you,” you correct, tossing the soaked napkin into the trash.

“You can’t ignore the truth!” Soonyoung declares, his grin practically splitting his face. “Which is that you’re gonna show up tonight in a dress that perfectly matches Seungkwan’s tie and pretend it’s all part of the act while secretly—”

“Soonyoung,” you interrupt sharply, narrowing your eyes.

“—you’re freaking out inside about how good he’s gonna look and how everyone’s gonna think you’re in love.”

“Why are you like this?” you demand, though the question is more rhetorical than anything.

“Because it’s fun,” Seokmin answers, popping the last bite of his granola bar into his mouth. “And because you’re so easy to tease when it comes to Seungkwan.”

You open your mouth to retort, but the words die on your tongue because the worst part—the absolute worst part—is that they’re not entirely wrong.

There is a part of you that’s been overthinking the gala all morning. Not because you’re nervous about the event itself, but because you’re nervous about him. About standing next to him in front of your colleagues. About the way he might look at you or the way his hand might rest on your back.

And more than that, you’re nervous about the way you’ll feel when it happens.

It’s a ridiculous thought. Seungkwan is your coworker. Your fake boyfriend. This whole thing is a game, a ploy to one-up Aera and Ayoung and win a stupid bet.

So why does the idea of walking into that ballroom with him make your heart race?

Why does it feel like it’s so much more than a game?

The rest of the day drags, your thoughts drifting back to the gala at every lull in the chaos of work. The deadlines on your desk pile higher, emails flood in, and the occasional, overly cheerful colleague stops by to remind you how "exciting" tonight is going to be.

But despite the busy afternoon, a strange mix of nervous energy and anticipation hums beneath it all. It’s not just about the event—the polished speeches, the endless string of handshakes, the clinking of champagne glasses. No, it’s about Seungkwan. About the act you’re supposed to put on together.

The hours pass in a blur of half-checked boxes and unfinished tasks. By the time you leave the office, you’re still not sure if you’ve made peace with the fact that you’re about to spend the evening glued to his side, pretending to be something you’re not.

You have just enough time to run home, change into your dress, and try to will away the nerves that have been simmering since this morning. Standing in front of your mirror, you adjust the midnight-blue fabric, smoothing it over your hips and fiddling with the clasp on your bracelet.

It’s just a gala, you tell yourself, reaching for your earrings. Just a few hours of small talk and pretending. You’ve done harder things.

But even as you head out the door, slipping into the backseat of the rideshare that will take you to the venue, you can’t quite shake the nagging thought in the back of your mind:

What if tonight doesn’t feel like pretending at all?

You spot Seungkwan waiting near the entrance to the ballroom, standing under the warm glow of the overhead sconces. He’s turned slightly away, scrolling idly on his phone, but it doesn’t take long for him to notice you. The moment his eyes land on you, they widen, the barest flicker of surprise crossing his face before he schools it into something more composed—almost indifferent.

Despite the tension simmering between you lately, you can’t help but take him in. The tailored fit of his suit accentuates his broad shoulders and sharp lines, and the midnight-blue tie—perfectly matched to your dress. The soft lighting catches on the neatly styled strands of his hair, and there’s a certain glow about him tonight that makes your heart stumble, just a little.

Focus, you scold yourself. It’s just Seungkwan. The guy who stole your parking spot. The guy who bickers with you more often than not. This is just one night, and then it’s over. Your hands smooth over the silk of your dress as you approach, brushing at imaginary lint to keep them from trembling.

Seungkwan, however, makes no attempt to disguise his once-over. His eyes drag down your figure with slow, deliberate appraisal before returning to meet your gaze. The faintest hint of a smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth, but you notice the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“What?” you ask, crossing your arms and raising a brow.

“Nothing,” he replies too quickly, glancing away. But his ears are tinged red, and when you prod again, leaning in just slightly to make him squirm, he mutters under his breath, “You clean up nice.”

For a second, you’re too stunned to respond. The casual compliment feels out of character, as if it slipped out before he could stop himself.

“And here I thought you’d be grumpy all night,” you say, masking your unease with an easy tease.

“Don’t get used to it,” he shoots back, though there’s no real bite to his tone. With a quiet sigh, he offers you his arm, holding it out stiffly as though unsure of himself.

Your breath catches for just a moment before you loop your arm through his, hoping he doesn’t notice the slight tremble in your fingers. The fabric of his suit is smooth and cool against your skin, and he adjusts his grip just slightly, settling his hand more securely over yours.

“Let’s get this over with,” you mumble, though you can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze.

“Right,” he agrees softly, leading you toward the grand doors. The quiet confidence in his step only makes your own nerves worse, and you wonder—just for a fleeting moment—if he feels it too.

The hotel’s ballroom is a picture of opulence, every detail polished to perfection. Warm golden light spills from the glittering chandeliers above, catching on the beveled edges of crystal glasses and the smooth, glossy surface of the checkered marble floor. White-draped tables line the room, adorned with centerpieces of fresh flowers and flickering candles. A string quartet plays softly in the corner, their music weaving through the gentle hum of conversation.

You barely have a chance to take it all in before the heat of Seungkwan’s arm against yours pulls your focus back. He stands tall beside you, his midnight-blue tie gleaming under the lights. You try not to fidget, but every time your gaze flickers to him, the quiet confidence in his expression sets your nerves on edge.

It’s just one night, you remind yourself, willing your feet to move forward. One night, and then it’s over.

The crowd shifts as you both step into the room, and you catch Aera and Ayoung’s gazes almost immediately. They’re standing near the champagne table, flutes in hand, their heads inclined toward each other in hushed conversation. The moment they spot you, their eyes widen, gliding from you to Seungkwan, then back again. Aera’s expression twists into something sharp and incredulous, while Ayoung’s lips curve into a smug smirk.

“Looks like we’re already the talk of the town,” Seungkwan murmurs, leaning slightly toward you. His breath brushes your ear, sending a shiver down your spine that you chalk up to irritation.

“Good,” you manage to say, lifting your chin. “Let’s give them something to really talk about.”

You’re not sure where the confidence comes from, but it carries you forward, your heels clicking against the marble as you walk with Seungkwan through the crowd. You can feel Aera’s glare burning into your back, but you keep your head high, your grip on Seungkwan’s arm tightening just slightly.

From across the room, you hear it before you see them—peals of laughter that could only belong to Seokmin and Soonyoung. You glance in their direction and find them stationed at one of the tables, grinning like giddy schoolchildren as they nudge each other and whisper conspiratorially. Seokmin pretends to hide his face behind his hand, but his eyes gleam with amusement, while Soonyoung practically bounces in his chair, barely able to contain his excitement.

“Subtle,” you mutter under your breath, though you can’t help the way your lips twitch upward.

Seungkwan notices too, his eyes narrowing slightly. “They’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Can you blame them?” you ask, finally letting a wry smile slip through. “We’re a spectacle.”

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head, but when you glance up at him, there’s a softness in his gaze that wasn’t there before. You quickly look away, pretending to adjust the bracelet on your wrist.

As you move further into the ballroom, you catch snippets of conversations trailing off, eyes lingering just a second too long on you and Seungkwan. The tension in the room feels palpable, but Seungkwan doesn’t falter. He keeps his pace steady, his arm firm and reassuring beneath your touch.

And for a brief moment, as you glide through the glittering sea of people, you almost forget that this is all an act.

The ballroom is a haze of chandeliers, polished floors, and conversations that hum like a soft undercurrent beneath the music. You move through it all hyperaware of Seungkwan at your side, the faintest brush of his presence grounding and unsteadying you all at once.

He’s good at this, you realize. At shaking hands, sharing effortless smiles, and exchanging pleasantries that seem to charm everyone in his orbit. You try to focus on your own small talk, but it’s nearly impossible not to notice the way his hand occasionally drifts to the small of your back, guiding you subtly through the crowd. It’s light—barely there—but every time his palm presses gently against you, warmth blooms, spreading like ripples in a still pond.

You try not to overthink it. It’s probably all for show, you tell yourself. Just part of the act.

Except…why does he keep glancing at you? After every joke he tosses into the conversation, his eyes flit to yours, watching for your reaction. When you laugh, his smile softens, almost imperceptibly, and when you don’t, his brow furrows for the briefest moment before he’s cracking another.

“Can we help you?” you mutter when Seokmin and Soonyoung sidle up to you for the third time that evening, their grins almost too wide.

“Nope,” Soonyoung says, popping the ‘p’ with dramatic flair.

“We’re just here for the show,” Seokmin adds, barely holding back his snicker.

“Go away,” you hiss, stepping closer to Seungkwan as if that will somehow shield you from their relentless teasing.

Instead of leaving, they both wiggle their eyebrows at you, making exaggerated faces every time you shift a little closer to him—whether intentionally or not. At one point, Seokmin mimes taking a picture with his imaginary camera, pretending to swoon like a tabloid photographer.

“Do you need something?” Seungkwan asks dryly, not even sparing them a glance as he sips his champagne.

“Just enjoying the chemistry,” Soonyoung says, grinning.

“I hate both of you,” you say, shoving past them and pulling Seungkwan with you, his laughter trailing behind you as you march toward the buffet table.

As the night wears on, the hyperawareness doesn’t fade. If anything, it grows sharper. You catch yourself leaning into him, just slightly, when he speaks to you. His scent—something warm and clean—lingers in the air, familiar yet distracting. And though you do your best to stay detached, your stomach flips every time he turns to you, his expression softer than you expect.

It’s just one night, you remind yourself. One night, and then it’s over.

But when Seungkwan tilts his head to meet your gaze, a flicker of something unspoken in his eyes, you wonder if he feels it too.

The conversation with the vice president of finance hits like a brick wall. You had hoped for the night to pass without any more uncomfortable moments, but here it is. The older man comes over with a knowing grin, his eyes flicking between you and Seungkwan. His voice is smooth, polished—like he’s done this kind of thing a hundred times before. “Wishing you both all the best,” he says with a wink, his smile stretching into something almost too warm.

Then, as if to solidify the moment, he adds, “I found my wife at work too. It’s always the best kind of relationship, don’t you think?”

Before you can even react, Seungkwan steps in, his hand tightening imperceptibly around your waist, his grip firm, possessive. He plays along with ease, a smile tugging at his lips. “We do make a lovely couple,” he says, the words slipping out with the same smooth confidence he uses to charm everyone around him.

And just like that, your knees almost give out. You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to cling to any sense of composure, but it’s hard. His voice sounds like it’s meant for someone else. You glance up at him, searching for some sign that he’s only pretending, but his eyes are warm, and it makes your stomach churn. This is too much.

The moment lingers, stretching long and painfully until the vice president finally moves on, leaving you standing there with Seungkwan’s hand still resting on your waist. You feel the heat of his touch, the weight of the promise in his words. And yet, something inside you begins to twist, and you can't quite shake the feeling that this isn’t all a game anymore.

When the quartet begins to play a slow, lilting melody, you feel a wave of dread wash over you. Couples start gravitating toward the dance floor, moving in soft, synchronized sways. You think you’re safe until you notice Soonyoung and Seokmin’s scheming grins out of the corner of your eye.

“Oh, no,” you mutter under your breath, but it’s too late.

“You two,” Soonyoung grins, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Get out there. Show us how it’s done.”

You freeze, the world tilting on its axis for a moment. You don’t want to dance. You don’t know how to dance. And you certainly don’t want to do it with Seungkwan, not like this. But when you glance over at him, you see the faintest edge of a smile on his lips—like he’s enjoying this far too much.

With a few unsubtle nudges and a downright shove from Soonyoung, you find yourself standing under the ballroom lights, facing Seungkwan. He doesn’t even blink, just steps forward and guides your hands to his shoulders as though this is all perfectly normal. His hands settle on your hips, light but steady, and the contact sends a shiver through you.

“You look like you’re going to bolt,” he murmurs, leaning in just enough that only you can hear. “Relax. Aera and Ayoung are still watching.”

You force a smile, more for their benefit than his, and try to focus on the music. But it’s no use. Every part of this feels overwhelming—the way his hands feel solid against you, the way he moves with a calm confidence you didn’t know he had, the way his gaze flickers to your lips for the briefest moment before snapping back up.

The worst part? You’re not sure what’s fake and what isn’t.

You take a shallow breath, your heart racing as the music swells around you, and everything about the night begins to feel too real. Too intense. The way Seungkwan holds you so effortlessly, the way his chest presses against yours, his gaze lingering on you like it means something.

This isn’t just pretend anymore. This isn’t just a game. You feel like you’re drowning in the pretense, in the slow slide of his body against yours, the fake smiles, the promises of weddings that don’t belong to either of you. You don’t know why it feels like this—like a knot is tightening in your chest with every beat of the music, every moment that stretches longer than you can bear.

You can’t breathe.

It’s too much. The weight of it, the weight of him. His hands on your body, on your waist, intertwined with yours. The tension that thrums between you both is too real, and suddenly, you can’t stand it anymore.

You pull back abruptly, the movement so sudden it startles him.

“I need to go,” you blurt, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

Without waiting for a response, you pull away from him, feeling his grip loosen as you shove past Seokmin and Soonyoung, who both watch you with surprised eyes. You don’t care. You don’t care that they’re probably confused, or that Seungkwan is still standing there on the dancefloor, looking as though he’s been left behind.

You don’t care about anything but getting away, away from him, away from this night that feels too heavy to carry. You push through the crowd, your pulse thundering in your ears, desperate to escape the world Seungkwan has created tonight—one where every smile feels like a lie, and every touch leaves you questioning everything.

Why did it feel like something more? Why does he feel like something more?

The hallway is cold, and the echoes of the ballroom seem a world away as you stand there, breathing in shallow gasps. You don’t know what you expected when you fled—maybe a bit of space to clear your head, a few moments of peace to sort through the mess in your chest. But then Seungkwan appears, footsteps rapid and sharp against the marble floor, and you brace yourself for whatever this is.

He stops in front of you, his eyes softening, a look of concern on his face. “You broke the contract,” he says, his voice low but playful. “You’re supposed to act like a couple in front of Aera and Ayoung.”

You should’ve expected it. Of course it’s just a game to him. Of course he doesn’t feel anything real. You press your lips together, the taste of bile rising in your throat. The way his words spill out with that same teasing tone, like it’s no big deal—that’s when it really hits you. None of this matters to him.

Your heart tightens, and you open your mouth to say something, anything, but it feels like the words are stuck in your throat, a knot you can’t untie. The silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating, until you finally spit out, “Fuck you, Seungkwan.”

His expression falters, eyes flashing with something like hurt or maybe frustration, but it doesn’t matter. You just want him to shut up, to stop saying the things that twist in your chest.

“What the hell?” His voice is sharp, defensive. “What’s your problem now? I’m just trying to make sure you’re not freaking out in front of them!”

“No,” you snap, your words slipping out before you can stop them. “I’m freaking out because you keep acting like it’s nothing—like it’s all just a damn game.” You’re pacing now, turning away from him, too afraid to face him. “And it’s not just a game, Seungkwan. But you don’t care. Of course you don’t care.”

Seungkwan’s voice is louder now, rising to match your anger. “Don’t you dare say that—”

“Why shouldn’t I?” you spit, your frustration spilling over. “You’ve been treating me like this whole thing is some kind of joke. Do you think I don’t see it? You think I don’t feel it?”

“You think I’m playing games?!” he practically shouts, his voice breaking through your thoughts. “What do you want me to say, huh? What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know!” The words burst out in a rush, too loud and too raw. “I don’t know what I want! But I sure as hell don’t want this. Don’t want you acting like I’m nothing but some stupid... some stupid game to win! And—”

Your throat tightens. It’s too much. The pain, the frustration, the confusion. The way your heart keeps aching, wanting something that shouldn’t be there. You can’t breathe right, and suddenly, your eyes sting with tears that you didn’t want to shed.

Before you can stop it, you spin to leave, your chest heaving, your hands trembling. You can’t be here anymore. You can’t do this.

But then, just as you take a step, his hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly.

“Don’t go,” Seungkwan murmurs, his voice softer now, and it’s the quietness of it that makes everything inside you snap.

In an instant, you turn back toward him, your body moving without thinking, driven by something primal, something that burns too hot to ignore. You don't care anymore, not about the rules or the reasons you were running or how much you've lied to yourself. Your lips crash into his, desperate and hungry, a sudden, violent collision of need and want. It’s rough, urgent, a complete collapse of all the control you’ve tried so desperately to hold onto.

His lips are warm, soft at first, but there’s no hesitation after that. It deepens in an instant, and you can feel him pushing you back, pressing you against the cold, hard wall. His body presses into yours, all sharp lines and heat, every inch of him a reminder that you’ve wanted this more than you’re willing to admit. You clutch his tie, your fingers knotting into the fabric, pulling him closer, deeper, like it’s not enough. His hands slide up the wall, bracing himself above your head, as if he needs that support to hold himself together too. But you’re too tangled in this moment, too consumed by the feel of him, the way his lips move against yours, the way his breath catches with every shift of his mouth.

His hands find their way to your body, his fingers grazing your hips, and you shudder, the friction between you both igniting something wild inside you. You kiss him back fiercely, and it feels like everything in the world has narrowed down to this singular moment. You don’t know if this is real or if it’s just your mind tricking you into believing it’s more than it is. But you feel it—how right it feels to be tangled up with him, how everything else outside of this space fades away.

His body presses harder, his chest against yours, his warmth seeping into you, filling the cracks where your control once was. You’re dizzy with the intensity of it, a rush of emotions crashing through you, and the silence between kisses becomes unbearable. Your breath is ragged, your heart pounding in your chest as if it’s trying to escape, to be closer to him. And every time you feel him pull away, even just a little, you’re pulling him back, chasing that connection that’s too elusive to hold.

It feels like the world is spinning too fast, and you’re holding onto him, to this fleeting moment, hoping that maybe it won’t slip away. But it does—it always does.

You press harder into him, your hands trembling as they slide up his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your fingers. It’s almost too much, like you’re consuming each other, but you can’t stop. You don’t want to stop.

But then the air feels heavier, and the ache in your chest intensifies. This is wrong, it has to be. His mouth against yours, his body holding you so tightly—it’s all too much, and yet you’re still starved for more. You feel like you’re drowning, and yet you don’t know how to pull away, how to breathe again without the taste of him on your lips.

You break the kiss suddenly, gasping for air, your chest rising and falling with desperation, as if the only thing you need in that moment is to breathe and be closer to him. But you know better. You remember. You have to remember.

And just like that, the realization comes crashing down, shattering everything inside you. It’s all just a game for him. It always was. You turn away, stumbling back, your body trembling as you try to steady yourself, your hands shaking uncontrollably.

“No.” You gasp, heart hammering painfully in your chest. You can’t stay here. You can’t let him see how much he’s breaking you right now.

Before he can say anything, before he can try to reach for you, you turn on your heel and run. You don’t look back, even when your chest aches and your throat burns, because you know that if you do, you’ll see something you can’t unsee.

And you’re too afraid that the feeling you’ve just experienced—that feeling of being whole, of being wanted—is the very thing that’ll make you lose yourself completely.

That night, as the doorbell rings, you know exactly who it is before you even get up. You don’t even have the strength to ask them to leave—Seokmin and Soonyoung just know. They always do.

Seokmin's already cracking open a pint of Ben & Jerry's before you've even had the chance to process their arrival, his voice light but knowing, as if they’ve been waiting for the moment to show up at your door. And it’s not long before they’re seated on the couch beside you, Soonyoung's knowing look cutting right through you as he silently opens the second pint, passing it to you without a word.

You don’t have the heart to ask about Seungkwan. You’re terrified of hearing it, terrified of what they’ll say. You don’t want to know if he’s going to shrug it off, or worse, if he’s forgotten about you already.

Instead, you spend the next few hours in silence, the three of you settled into the couch, alternating between the steady flow of ice cream and shitty romcoms on TV. The sound of laughter and melodramatic dialogue fills the space, but you barely hear it. Every now and then, a sob shakes through you, and you absently grab Soonyoung’s suit jacket, wiping your face on it like some pathetic kid trying to hide from the world.

It’s not a game anymore, you think. But your mind keeps circling back, again and again, and your heart clenches painfully.

You find yourself sniffling during a commercial break, and before you know it, your voice cracks as you whisper into Seokmin’s shoulder, your words barely audible through the tears. “It’s not a game anymore,” you whimper, your chest tight with emotion, a hollow ache you can't seem to fill. “Not to me.”

Seokmin pats your head gently, his hand warm and comforting on your hair, and you can feel him press his cheek against your head in an unspoken gesture of reassurance. Soonyoung doesn’t say anything but looks at you sadly from his spot on your lap, his eyes soft with understanding, but he knows better than to push.

But then Seokmin speaks, his voice quiet, so gentle you almost miss it. “Was it ever?” he asks, the question hanging in the air, a quiet truth you didn’t want to acknowledge.

You don’t answer. Because you know the answer. You’ve known it all along, even when you were pretending not to. The truth is louder than the silence between the three of you, but you’re not ready to face it.

And so, instead of answering, you bury your face further into Seokmin’s shoulder, fighting the tears that never seem to stop. The answer is clear, but you can’t find the words to say it.

Friday feels like the weight of the week is catching up with you, every inch of your body refusing to move as you sit at your desk, staring blankly at the screen. You’ve worked from home plenty of times before, but today? Today, it feels different. The silence is too loud, too consuming, and you can't escape it, not even in the safety of your own apartment. Your phone buzzes incessantly in the corner of your desk, each ping making your chest tighten just a little more. You know it’s him. Seungkwan. You know because his name flashes on your screen, and every time, you hesitate before swiping it away, like a coward.

You don’t want to hear it, not today. Not when everything feels so broken.

But when the photo comes in—a simple picture of your coffee order, just sitting there on your desk with nothing but a blank post-it note next to it—you can feel the tears already threatening to break free. The coffee’s steaming, just the way you like it, but the note’s blank, empty. There’s nothing there. Just silence.

It’s too much.

You let out a strangled sob, your hand shaking as you clutch your phone. Your throat tightens as you struggle to breathe, the weight of everything crashing down on you all at once. You curl up at your desk, tears falling in heavy waves as you finally allow yourself to break. The floodgates that you’ve kept tightly shut the past few days burst wide open, and you can’t stop it. Can’t stop the sobs that wrack through you, shaking you to your core.

You’re not ready to face this. Not ready to admit what’s happening inside of you. You just want it to stop. To go back to before everything got complicated. Before you let yourself feel anything for him.

You don't even bother to wipe your tears away, don’t bother trying to pull yourself together. You don’t even go to Seokmin’s tonight for your weekly ritual. The usual distraction, the routine that’s always been your safe space, feels miles away now.

Instead, you pull the blanket tighter around you, the emptiness of the apartment matching the emptiness you feel inside. You bury yourself in it.

And you let the tears come.

The smell of Seokmin’s cooking wafts into the living room as he sets up the kitchen, making his usual chaotic symphony of clattering pans and sizzling ingredients. He’s persistent, like always, so you know there’s no way you’re getting out of this. He’s here to cook, and more importantly, to drag you back from the spiral you’ve fallen into.

You don’t say anything when he hands you the bowl of food. You just sit down at the kitchen table, quietly shoveling the food into your mouth. It tastes good, as always, but it doesn’t reach you. Not the way it should.

The silence stretches between you two as you chew, the clinking of your utensils the only sound in the room. Seokmin isn’t going to let it slide, though. He’s far too persistent to let you wallow in quiet.

“So,” he starts, his voice quiet but pointed, “what happened?”

You don’t answer immediately, and it’s not because you don’t want to—no, it’s because you’re not sure where to start. Do you tell him the truth? That you let your feelings get tangled up in a game, that Seungkwan tricked you into thinking it meant something more than it was?

But when you look up, you meet Seokmin’s eyes, and for some reason, you just... let it spill.

“I kissed him,” you say, voice small. The words feel like a confession you weren’t ready to make.

Seokmin’s brows furrow slightly, but he doesn’t push. He just asks, “But that’s a good thing, right?”

You snort, bitter and frustrated. “Seokmin, it was all just a game to him.”

The words hang there, sharp in the quiet kitchen air. Seokmin pauses, setting his fork down before speaking again. “Did he tell you that?”

You shake your head. “No, but he doesn’t need to. He kept bringing up the contract.” 

Seokmin’s eyes narrow in frustration, but there’s a softness in them too. “Y/N…”

“Don’t,” you mutter, the emotion welling up again in your chest. “I’m done. I’m tired of this, Seokmin. It was never real for him, and it’s too real for me now. I can’t keep pretending.”

You can’t even look him in the eye now, your gaze turning to the table as your hands clutch the bowl. Seokmin stays quiet, letting you speak, but you can feel the weight of his disappointment. It doesn’t make you feel better, but at least you’re not holding it all in.

“What are you going to do on Monday? You have to present together.” Seokmin says, his voice light but his eyes serious.

The question hits you like a punch to the gut. You’ve been avoiding thinking about that. Of course, Monday will come, and you’ll have to face Seungkwan again.

“I’ll ignore him,” you reply, voice almost robotic.

Seokmin raises an eyebrow. “Let me repeat: you have to PRESENT. TOGETHER.” He emphasizes the word ‘together,’ and you can feel the weight of it pressing down on you. “Emphasis on TOGETHER.”

You just stare at your food, not knowing what to say. Your heart is heavy, your thoughts racing.

“Seokmin, I’m tired of this,” you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips. “I’m done. Aera and Ayoung can go fuck themselves, but I’m not playing this game anymore.”

Seokmin doesn’t say anything for a while. You hear him sigh, and when you look up, his face is softer. “If you say so.”

You want to argue, to tell him that it’s easier said than done, but instead, you just slump back into your chair, letting the silence fill the space again. He doesn’t push you further, just lets you stew in your emotions, knowing that you’ll need time. You’re not ready to face Monday, not ready to stand side by side with Seungkwan, pretending like none of this ever happened. But there’s no escaping it. And you’ll have to deal with it soon enough.

Monday morning is a punch to the gut.

You arrive at work, feeling the weight of the weekend's fallout heavy in your chest. The first thing you notice when you pull into the parking lot is that there’s no coffee waiting for you on your desk. The usual sign of Seungkwan’s presence, of him thinking of you in the mornings, is missing. It's a stupid thing to feel the absence of, but it cuts deeper than you'd like to admit.

You walk into the office, feeling all the eyes on you. It’s not even 9 AM, and you already know today is going to drag. You get to your desk, and before you can even sit down, Aera and Ayoung are already on you, their faces lit up with exaggerated curiosity.

"Hey, Y/N," Aera says, eyes flicking to the empty space where the coffee should have been. "Where’s your coffee today? You and Seungkwan usually have that whole ‘he brings your coffee’ thing down to a science. What’s up? You two not sharing that routine anymore?"

Ayoung giggles, and you feel the irritation bubbling up before you can stop it. You’ve had enough of this.

You slam your bag down on your desk, not bothering to hide the exhaustion in your voice. "We broke up. Now get out of my face so I can work."

The words hit the air like a slap, and for a moment, the office is completely silent. Aera’s mouth falls open slightly, her eyes wide in surprise, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Ayoung just blinks, taken aback, but she says nothing more, her usual snark suddenly gone.

You don’t give them a chance to respond. You turn away from them, sitting at your desk, hands shaking slightly as you pull up your emails. You can hear their retreating footsteps, but you don’t bother looking up. You don’t care. It’s easier to just ignore them and dive into your work, focusing on the tasks in front of you.

But it doesn’t stop there. As much as you try to bury yourself in your screen, the emptiness of Seungkwan’s absence—his lack of coffee, the parking spot that you still take for granted—gnaws at you. You tell yourself that it’s for the best, that the game is over. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

The presentation room feels suffocating.

You stand at the front, flipping through slides, forcing your gaze to stay focused on the KPIs and metrics on the screen. The numbers are safe, the charts impersonal. You can talk about this with your eyes closed, but it feels like everything else in the room is conspiring against you.

Seungkwan, of course, keeps trying to catch your eye. Every time you glance in his direction—brief, fleeting—you see the way his expression tightens, the worry flickering in his eyes. You’re not sure if it's pity or concern, and frankly, you don’t care. You’ve worked hard to bury whatever feelings were there, and you’re not about to let him dig them up in front of a room full of people.

You force yourself to talk about the numbers. KPIs, data points, project metrics. Anything to avoid looking at him. You can feel Soonyoung and Seokmin watching you a little too intently, their eyes sharp with something unspoken. It makes your words stutter, your confidence falter just a little, but you push through, unwilling to show any weakness.

But then an executive asks if you're okay, and the words catch you off guard. You can’t help it—you glance over at Seungkwan. Just for a second. Long enough for him to notice, long enough for him to give you that look. The one you’ve been avoiding.

"I'm fine, thanks," you manage to say, voice steady despite the way your heart is hammering in your chest. You look back at the screen, not daring to meet anyone’s gaze. You try to ignore the weight of his concern, the way it lingers like a weight in the air.

The meeting eventually wraps up, and as everyone files out, Seungkwan steps towards you, his arm reaching out. You feel the familiar tug of his presence, the warmth of his hand inches away from your sleeve.

But you don’t want to feel it. You don’t want to deal with it.

You shrug him off, murmuring something about deadlines and reports that need to be finished. The words come out harsh and clipped, almost too much so, but you don’t care. You can feel the tension hanging between you like a storm cloud, but you don’t want to be near him right now. Not with everything still so raw.

You don’t wait for a response, just turn and walk toward your desk, not daring to look back.

You thought it would be easy to avoid Seungkwan. After all, it's just a matter of keeping your distance, staying busy, and letting the work pile up in a way that leaves no room for him to worm his way back into your head. You’ve been doing it for hours, and so far, it’s working.

Three hours, at least.

Seokmin and Soonyoung have been your perfect distractions, filling your day with so much nonsense that you barely have time to breathe, let alone think about Seungkwan and the mess you’ve somehow ended up in.

It started in the break room, just after the meeting. You’d been trying to sneak in a coffee, hoping it might calm the jittery feeling that’s been buzzing through you since you saw Seungkwan's hand reach for yours. But, of course, Soonyoung and Seokmin cornered you before you could even take a sip.

"Y/N, I need your opinion on something," Soonyoung had started, with that grin of his, the one that always spells trouble.

You narrowed your eyes, suspicious. "What now?"

Seokmin leaned in like they were about to discuss state secrets, whispering in a conspiratorial tone, "Soonyoung here is convinced he’s a professional ice cream taster. He wants to know if he should add ‘Certified Expert’ to his resume."

You rolled your eyes, but Soonyoung was undeterred, holding up a pint of Ben & Jerry’s with a flourish. "Can’t you see the wisdom in my plan? Who wouldn’t hire a man who knows his way around a pint of Cookie Dough?"

You snorted, shaking your head. "You’re ridiculous. But go ahead, waste your time on that. I’m trying to focus."

But no, they weren’t letting you go that easily. Seokmin started cracking jokes, distracting you with all the random things he’d overheard in the office. "Did you know that Ayoung is secretly obsessed with ‘90s boy bands? I walked in on her humming ‘I Want It That Way’ this morning, and I’m still recovering."

And Soonyoung, ever the instigator, added with a wink, "I also caught her in the hallway talking about getting a matching tattoo with Aera. Of a tiny cupcake. What do you think? The whole office would get a kick out of that."

By then, you were laughing despite yourself, pushing down the tight feeling in your chest. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to laugh, it was just that... well, everything felt too complicated. Too much.

So, you let them pull you into their nonsense. They carried on for the next hour—Soonyoung performing some ridiculous impression of an old-timey detective, Seokmin explaining his absurd theory that paperclips are an ancient alien technology (you’re still not sure if he was serious)—until you forgot, for just a moment, about everything else. Even Seungkwan.

But of course, they weren’t done. When they saw that momentary crack in your armor, they pounced, practically dragging you into a brainstorming session for next week's office party theme. Soonyoung insisted on a 'Beach Party' theme even though there was no beach within a hundred miles of your office. Seokmin argued for a retro ‘80s prom, and then proceeded to pull out old high school yearbook photos of him in a neon green tuxedo for ‘inspiration.’ You were supposed to be working, but you couldn’t help but laugh at Seokmin trying to explain why the color combo was "unbeatable."

They kept going, laughing, cracking jokes, pulling your attention from the tight knot that had been steadily winding around your chest since you left the meeting. But you knew—knew—this distraction wasn’t going to last forever.

Eventually, reality would catch up, but for now, you let them drag you along with them. The idea of facing Seungkwan, of facing what had happened, felt like too much. So you pushed it down, buried it in the ridiculousness of the day.

For now, you thought, it was working. But you had a feeling the peace wouldn’t last long.

It’s late, and you’re about to congratulate yourself on avoiding Seungkwan for the entire day as you open your car door. But of course, the universe has other plans for you. The sudden slam of the car door makes you jump, your hand still on the handle as you whip around to find Seungkwan standing there, his face set in that tight expression you know too well. The tension between you snaps, palpable in the cool evening air. His voice cuts through the silence, demanding, sharp.

"So this is how it's going to be?" he asks, the words heavy with frustration.

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest. You were so sure you had made your escape. You had done everything you could today to keep him out of your head, to avoid this moment. Yet here he is, standing in front of you like an inevitable storm, his presence taking up the entire space between you.

You try to steady yourself, the tightness in your throat making it hard to speak. "I don’t know what you’re talking about," you manage, forcing the words out despite how small they sound against the tension hanging between you.

Seungkwan’s eyes narrow as if he’s reading you—really reading you, seeing right through the facade you’ve worked so hard to put on. "Don’t lie to me, Y/N. You’ve been avoiding me all day. It’s not just because of the work, is it? You’ve been avoiding me since... since the gala. Since everything."

You bite your lip, refusing to let the weight of his words sink in, but his voice keeps coming, a steady beat in your chest. “You think I’m just supposed to pretend everything’s fine after what happened?”

The words hit you like a slap, leaving a bitter taste on your tongue. You try to ignore the ache that stirs inside you at the mention of what happened—the kiss, the way it felt so real, so right, and yet so wrong. So much of a game. And now he’s standing here, throwing it all in your face.

"I don’t know what you expect from me, Seungkwan," you snap, unable to keep the edge from your voice. "But it’s over. I told you—I’m done."

Seungkwan’s jaw tightens, and he steps closer, his proximity making you instinctively want to step back. But you don’t. You won’t.

"Done?" he repeats, voice laced with disbelief. "Just like that? You think you can just walk away? You’re really going to pretend this—whatever this is—didn’t mean anything?"

You open your mouth to argue, but no words come out. It’s as if your body’s betraying you, locking you in this moment where nothing makes sense, where the anger you thought would fuel you evaporates the moment Seungkwan looks at you with that frustrated, helpless look in his eyes.

You hate that you care. You hate that, even now, a part of you wants to reach out and undo everything. To erase the distance, the silence, the walls you’ve built between the two of you. But you can’t.

“You always thought of it as a game, Seungkwan,” you snap, your voice a little too sharp for comfort, but it’s all you have to hold onto. The argument. The distance. The lie you’ve been clinging to.

He’s shaking his head before you even finish the sentence, a rawness in his expression you’ve never seen before. “It was never a game for me!” His words crash through the silence, leaving an echo that hangs in the air. It’s too much. Too loud.

And then, just like that, you’re back in that hallway, your heart pounding. The night air feels suffocating, and there’s a closeness between you two that should feel wrong, but it doesn’t. It feels right in the way his chest is rising and falling too quickly, in the way you can barely breathe without him being this close. Your breaths are shaky, uncertain.

“What was it then?” Your voice cracks as you ask, small and vulnerable, that gnawing fear in your chest almost swallowing you whole. You don’t want to know the answer, but you know you need to hear it.

His gaze drops, his voice softens, and it’s enough to make your stomach turn with something too familiar. “What do you think?” he whispers, just above a breath, his words more like a confession than a question.

The truth is right there, suspended between you two, but it feels like a lie at the same time. You try to push it down, try to control it, but the knot in your throat grows tighter. You’re not sure what’s worse—the silence, or the fact that you’re on the verge of hoping for something you shouldn’t.

His hand moves to your face, brushing your cheek, and you can feel the heat of his touch seeping into your skin like a live wire. “I kept the parking spot argument going because I knew it was the only excuse I had to talk to you,” he continues, his voice thick with something you can’t quite place. “You’re so smart. So beautiful. I knew you would never give me the time of day unless I made you.”

It hits you in waves, like the ground beneath you is shifting. You open your mouth to respond, to tell him that this is too much, too late, that he can’t just explain this all away—but he cuts you off, the urgency in his voice making you freeze.

“No, please. Let me finish.”

You swallow hard, the words stuck in your throat, but you stay silent, waiting for him to continue.

He steps closer, the air between you two crackling with every movement. His eyes are dark, intense, and you’re not sure if it’s fear or something else flickering behind them. “I couldn’t just let you go. I couldn’t. So I did what I had to do. I kept pushing you, testing you, because I couldn’t let you slip away.”

The honesty in his voice is like a punch to the gut. Every word seems to break down everything you thought you knew about this whole thing. You can’t speak. You’re drowning in it, caught between the words and the way he’s looking at you.

You want to run. You should run. But instead, you stay there, with his hands on you, his breath too close to yours, and the silence that threatens to drown you both.

The question slips out before you can stop it, your voice small and fragile in the heavy silence that’s settled between you two. It feels like everything is crashing down, the weight of it all pressing against your chest, but the curiosity burns through. You need to know.

"Why did you say yes? To the contract?" Your voice barely rises above a whisper, and you can’t help the way your breath catches in your throat, that desperate need to understand.

Seungkwan freezes, his hand still hovering just inches from your face, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. It’s like you’ve asked the question that’s been hanging in the air, unspoken, for far too long. And for a moment, it feels like the world is holding its breath, waiting for him to answer.

He looks away, his eyes darting to the ground as if the answer isn’t something he can say out loud. His lips part, but no words come out. He takes a breath, almost like he’s bracing himself for what he’s about to admit. And then, slowly, the words slip out, ragged and raw.

“Because I didn’t know how else to get close to you.” His voice trembles slightly, but the honesty in it cuts through you, sharp and real. “I didn’t know how else to make you notice me.”

He runs a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “I was tired of standing in the background, watching you with everyone else, wanting to be more than just... the guy who argues with you about parking spots or steals your coffee.”

There’s a bitter chuckle, half empty, half ashamed, and it almost breaks you. He doesn’t look at you now, but his words hang in the air between you like a weight that neither of you can lift.

“I thought if I had a reason, an excuse, maybe... maybe I could make you see me. See us." He finally glances back up, his gaze soft, too soft for the harshness of his confession. “And I was wrong, okay? I was wrong to use you like that.”

The silence after his words is deafening. Every piece of you wants to scream, to shout at him for what he’s done, for the way he played with your heart like it was a game. But you can’t. Not with the raw vulnerability in his eyes, the way he stands there, exposed and unsure.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Your voice cracks, and it’s all you can manage.

His chest rises and falls with a deep, shaky breath. “Because I didn’t think you’d ever want to hear it.”

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, a breathless, almost irritated whisper. "You're an idiot." But it's not frustration you feel anymore, it’s something deeper, something that’s been simmering just beneath the surface for far too long.

And then you can’t help it. The space between you closes, and before you even realize what you're doing, your hands are on him, pulling his face down to yours. The kiss is fierce and unrestrained, lips crashing together with a hunger that feels almost desperate, like you’ve been starved for this moment, for him, for everything that’s been left unsaid.

Seungkwan’s hands find their way to your waist, tugging you closer, his body solid and warm against yours. He responds without hesitation, his lips moving against yours with a fervor that matches your own, a mix of frustration and need, and something else—something raw and real.

The world outside of this moment disappears, the streetlights and cars, the sounds of the city—it all fades away, leaving just the two of you, caught in the storm of it all. It feels right, in a way that makes your chest tighten, in a way that makes everything else feel insignificant. The kiss deepens, and for a moment, everything that’s been left unspoken between you two finally starts to come to the surface.

When you finally pull away, breathless and dazed, his forehead rests against yours, your heart pounding in the space between you. It feels like the whole world has just shifted, everything falling into place in a way that makes sense, finally.

"How did you know my coffee order?" You ask, voice still shaky from the kiss, but your curiosity getting the better of you. You're still trying to wrap your head around all of it.

Seungkwan pauses for a moment, then a sheepish smile tugs at his lips. "I watched you," he admits quietly, his eyes softening. "I memorized little things about you, filed them away. Thought maybe one day I could use them... if I ever got the chance."

You can't help the small giggle that escapes you at his confession, the weight of it all sinking in. It's the sweetest thing you've ever heard. Before you can stop yourself, you're pulling him back into a kiss, hands sliding up to cup his face, as if this moment could last forever.

When you pull away again, your lips still tingling from his touch, you look up at him with a playful grin.

"So what do you say, fake-girlfriend?" he asks, his voice low, teasing. "Wanna be my real girlfriend?"

You laugh, the sound light and carefree, pressing your head against his chest as he wraps his arms around you. For the first time in what feels like forever, everything feels right. You breathe him in, the warmth of his embrace anchoring you.

"Only if you still bring me coffee," you murmur, grinning into his shirt.

"Done," he whispers, pressing his lips to yours again, and this time it feels like a promise—one you both intend to keep.

EPILOGUE

Seungkwan’s car is parked downstairs, and your phone buzzes incessantly as you can practically hear his impatience through the screen. You’re running late, of course, but when you finally slip into the passenger seat, he’s grumbling, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. The moment you slide in, though, his tone softens, and he’s already handing you a cup of coffee—the perfect temperature, the way you like it, the warm press of his lips against your cheek.

"You’re lucky I didn’t leave without you," he mutters, but there’s no real anger in his voice. You smile as you take a sip. This coffee isn’t from the shop across town anymore. No, Seungkwan bought an espresso machine, much to your surprise, and he’s been making them himself. "What kind of boyfriend doesn’t make coffee for his girlfriend?" he had argued one night as you laid in his lap, and you had to admit, it was an endearing (and slightly ridiculous) argument. Still, this coffee tastes better than anything you could buy, and maybe you’re biased, but you think it might actually be true.

He pulls into The Spot with an exaggerated sigh. “It’s so much nicer not having to argue with you every day for the spot,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips.

You roll your eyes and slam the car door shut with a dramatic flair. “I can pick fights about other things,” you shoot back unhelpfully, crossing your arms. “For example, your tie is hideous.”

Seungkwan gasps in mock outrage, his hand flying to his chest like he’s been personally attacked. "You did not just say that!" he yells, and then he's chasing you through the parking garage, the sound of his footsteps getting closer. You let out a shriek as you try to run in heels, but it’s no use—he catches up to you easily, hands dancing across your waist as you beg for mercy.

"Take it back!" he demands, voice filled with mock seriousness.

"No!" You laugh, still struggling against his hold, though it's a losing battle.

"Then no coffee for a week," he warns, his tone playful but authoritative.

"Boo Seungkwan!" you protest, but his grin only widens as he pulls you into the elevator, trapping you between his chest and the wall.

The elevator door dings open, and just as you step out, he pulls you back toward him, placing a kiss on your lips—slow and warm, lingering like he’s in no rush to let you go.

"Have a good day," he murmurs, his lips brushing your cheek.

"EW!" Seokmin’s voice shouts from behind you, and you can’t help but laugh at the sound of him. Seungkwan flips him off without missing a beat, the playful edge in his voice unmistakable. "This whole thing is your fault," he calls out to Seokmin’s retreating figure, who’s already halfway down the hall, grinning ear to ear.

"I know!" Seokmin yells back gleefully, his voice carrying through the hallway. "I had a really really good plan!"

tagging: @ottersmind @blvenote @kyeomsworld @cookiearmy @armycarat2612 @rjea @xylatox @flwrshwa

@christinewithluv @headlockimnida @letwiiparkjay @cherr-y-eji @codeinbelle @baguette-atiny @whoa-jo @noiceoofed

[mullermilkshake]

Dinner for four

Part 16 <- Part 17 -> Part 18

Jinwoo tries to reel back the Beru incident and the Chairman reveals a little part of himself.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Hunter!reader Tags - Pregnant reader, dirty/smut thoughts, fantasies of sex and other NSFW acts/Jinwoo wants to get you pregnant again! Eager beaver.

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

I have only watched the anime and haven't gotten round to reading the manhwa yet. Please refrain from spoilers. BUT I have ruined some things for myself just to try and get Beru’s dialogue somewhat right. Please let me know if I did good or not. Your girl researches to the best of her ability, but I can only do so much 😂

TAG LIST CLOSED

Okay, Jinwoo fucked up. He fucked up bad. 

He genuinely thought he’d introduced you to everyone, all of his shadows that were involved on a daily basis in Jinwoo’s raids. How the hell did he forget about Beru?

Beru accompanied him to the store, lurking about in the shadows talking about a period drama Jinwoo wasn’t bothered hearing about, he had too much on his mind. Too much clouding his brain as he received little vague updates from Igris, interpreting as best he could whilst also finding the right ingredients.

This period drama started its newest season tonight.

In the rush to get back to you, once Jinwoo figured out you were sick, he let Beru do what he wanted just to keep him quiet. What he didn’t account for, was your reaction. You clung to Jinwoo in your towel like there was a real life bug in the apartment.

“I… uh.” Maybe Jinwoo was getting burnt out, too? Was baby brain a thing for dads swell? “I thought I showed you all of my shadows…”

Hold on a minute… Igris, Tank, Iron, Tusk… uh… Shit. 

“You didn’t show me this one!”

Beru said nothing, and by the size of his engorged, sad, doe eyes, he was about to burst a leak from your reaction.

And he was missing his show.

“He won’t hurt you. Beru, come and say hi.”

You clung to Jinwoo, hair starting to drip on the floor into a miniature puddle by your toes. He never winced by how tight you were digging your nails in his arm as a response, he tried to comfort you as the seven foot tall ant trudged over.

Beru shot down and kneeled in front of you. “I’ve upset her my liege! I deserve your wrath!”

“What the… He talks?”

Jinwoo couldn’t believe he forgot to mention Beru. By the way your eyes were getting wider with each waking second, he’d made a pretty big boo boo. Would you forgive him? Were the babies okay? He didn’t sense a spike of mana that time.

Maybe because Beru was here, your emotions didn’t influence them. The twins' mana was there, just as prevalent as ever, just not pulsing or vibrating at a frequency Jinwoo could practically hear. They were as calm as ever.

Poor Beru. Having a shrill scream in your ear whilst enjoying his favourite show. Oof. 

“Beru, I think missing your show is punishment enough, don’t y’think? You can watch it tomorrow. Good enough?”

“My lord, I am not worthy of such kindness! I shall be in agony tonight wondering if Lady Aera will indeed marry the Lord of the house or follow her dream to paint instead of-”

“Beru. Leave it for now.” Jinwoo didn’t want to hear it all again, not standing there in his towel with his pregnant girlfriend dripping wet and getting cold.

“You…” You blinked the frightened tears away, inhaling deeply. “You like watching Bora’s Lone Legacy too?”

“Huh?”

Is that what the show's called? Jinwoo stood and watched in a dumbfound awe as you let go. What is going on?

Beru raised his head, his eyes wider than ever and looking at you like an excitable toddler. “My… My lady… You- you watch it too?!”

Oh great. Didn’t see that one coming. 

You nodded with caution, unknowingly getting closer to Beru. “Uh huh. I’ve… I’ve never met anyone else who likes that show.”

Beru stood up abruptly with so much enthusiasm, it startled you. You grabbed a hold of Jinwoo’s arm again, though looser than before. 

“Okay,” Jinwoo kept you close, hugging you to the side. “That’s enough for today. Beru, you can watch your show tomorrow while we’re out of the apartment. We have plans tonight, so you need to go.”

“Uh…” He just stood there like Jinwoo was speaking a whole other language. Beru watched you closely, then back to Jinwoo. “Uh- yes, My lord… My lady.”

Beru bowed lowest to you and vanished back to the shadows.

That’s getting more odd each time that happens.

Jinwoo noticed the running theme with his shadows the further you got into your pregnancy. Each bowed lowest to you, like their affinity and loyalty was suddenly deeper ingrained then their own master.

Now, it wasn’t though they would leave Jinwoo to serve you specifically, but it twinged something in his brain. Why? Why were they doing that? It easily could have been the babies’ mana inside you, similar to Jinwoo’s but one of a kind entirely.

As time went on, Jinwoo was starting to tell the mana apart from its aura patterns. Though barely visible, he saw two distinct aura besides yours, which by now, was barely there. One, was a vibrant blue, taking after Jinwoo, darker and more refined than his own when the system first arrived. The other, nothing like either yours or Jinwoo’s, a low and almost depressive grey with flared edges like flickering candle light.

And you couldn’t see either of them. But the shadows must have. Jinwoo would question them later.

“Are you alright?” He waited for you to turn towards him, your hands nestled in his. “I’m so sorry about Beru, I was in such a rush to get to you, I forgot he was here.”

“I’m alright.” You said, nodding like you were trying to convince yourself. “Just a shock is all. But I’m okay. To be honest, I’m more nervous about tonight, I want everything to go right.”

Jinwoo offered you athe sweetest smile, readying himself to find answers surrounding the Chairman’s recent behaviour and do damage control to try and repair connections before his own intrusive thoughts severed them for good.

He was so close to making the Chairman disappear last night. You were his only saving grace.

I don’t know how much longer I can keep this all bottled up before I do something rash. Something horrible. I won’t feel anything bad about it either. 

Jinwoo glanced down at your ring sitting perfectly on your finger. I can’t do anything that’ll make her look at me differently. We’ll be married soon enough, she’ll be my wife. It’ll fuck everything up if she changes her mind.  

Every gate Jinwoo stepped through, he scoured and scrimped every piece of loot to either find the perfect ring, or buy one on the market place. Rings from a traditional jewellers never looked right and Jinwoo grew tiresome looking.

And then came this ring, the one on your finger that captured the light just right. It mirrored you, a section of moonstone that lit up the room in Jinwoo’s eyes just like you did. Moonstone symbolised new beginnings, protection and aimed to keep an emotional balance, something you needed desperately.

It had been agony waiting to ask you, especially in the way he did. Jinwoo wanted it to be perfect, romantic and impulsive. Well, he got the impulsive part right. But, in truth, the Chairman helped indirectly. Jinwoo would have had to wait until you gave birth before he could ask you, his own original plan.

It’s all worked out then. 

“Come on, let’s get dressed so we can start cooking, you’re shivering.”

Jinwoo whisked you away to get dried and changed, then followed your recipes to the letter. His job was merely support, to keep you calm and ensure everything went smoothly before the doorbell rang hours later.

“Shit, is it that time already?” You stood there with eyes wider than cute little tea saucers, the little floral apron hanging just right over your belly.

“I’ll get it.”

Jinwoo took one last glance in your direction, seeing you so domestic stirred something in him, right through to his abdomen. Like if he came home from a raid and you were cooking with one of the twins on your hip, well, if you weren’t pregnant again by then, you would be by the end of the night.

“Chairman Go.” He put on his sweetest voice, even smiling in a way that the Chairman mirrored. “Hunter Woo. We’re glad you could make it.”

“Thank you, we are happy to be here.” The Chairman bowed with respect and entered through towards the kitchen, presumably to greet you.

Jin-chul, on the other hand, paused just inside the threshold with an impassive look. “Hunter Sung, it’s good to finally see you two that doesn’t include the association.”

“I can say the same, having a night without politics is refreshing.”

Jin-chul stepped through and stopped again, looking back on Jinwoo with a suspicious glare. “Politics? Hunter Sung, while we can sit down at that dinner table tonight, I cannot agree that politics aren’t at play here.”

Jinwoo watched the kitchen doorway, the Chairman’s back to him. “I’m not quite sure what you mean?”

He knew exactly what he meant.

“While I can’t stop you from doing what you’re doing, you’re going all about it the wrong way. I’ve known of your feelings towards her for some time, you aren’t fooling anyone who is looking close enough, regrettably it seems that I am the only one observing the paired hunters closer than anyone cares to right now. But what you two pulled last night, it could alter the way the association does things from now on.”

“How will it change exactly?”

Jin-chul watched the Chairman too, listening out for the click of the front door to see whether it would have distracted him. It did not.

“The association’s goal is to produce as many children as possible and move on. If you two marry, declare publicly that the love you hold for each is true and honest and decide you will keep your children close, you put yourself out of the race for more children.”

That was bullshit. “We’ll have more children. We’ve already jumped ahead of the curve with twins, if anything, we’re doing better than most. Why does that matter?”

“The Chairman holds you in high regard, the highest, actually. You are one of Korea’s biggest weapons, and settling down right now isn’t a good look when there’s so many people counting on  meeting you and those children when they’re born. All I’m saying is to think about the consequences before you get impulsive.”

Jinwoo hid his clenched jaw as best he could without letting on to Jin-chul at what he really wanted to say. ‘Stay in your lane and mind your own fucking business. 

“I’ll take that into consideration, Hunter Woo.”

“Please do. The Chairman respects you, and your behaviour so far hasn’t reflected that. I trust you’ll speak with him about it later?”

Jinwoo nodded with hidden clenched fists. “Of course, I’ll discuss it later. Please, come through, dinner won’t be long.”

Dinner was right on time, perfectly executed. You were adamant on serving it, padding around the table handing out dishes and serving utensils as the three men sat down at the table despite the protests.

“Please, my dear. Allow us to serve.” The Chairman smiled as he usually did, his fingers laced together like always.

“It’s alright, I enjoy it. Please tuck in.”

Honestly. Seriously. Fucking beautifully. The sight of the darting back and forth from the kitchen, twenty weeks pregnant, made Jinwoo’s bottom half tingle. After taking care of Jin-ah whilst his mom was unwell, being doted on and cared for like this was something he didn’t want to give up so easily.

You had cooked many times before, but there was something different about it, about you in that apron. He wanted to see you wearing it with nothing else, nothing but your engagement ring on your finger.

The more Jinwoo fantasised, the more it evolved from seeing you wearing nothing, to fucking you over the table as you screamed his name, letting dinner go cold just so he could make you orgasm around his cock a few times. He wanted to massage your swelling, sensitive breasts and wrap his arms around your shuddering body.

He just wanted to fuck you, and his twitching cock reminded him of that each time he watched you move around the room.

Dinner was a formality, Jinwoo had every intention of speaking with the Chairman and calling him out on his own behaviour. He had forced Jinwoo into a corner, his behaviour shouldn’t have been the one under a microscope, not under the guise that the chairman wanted to rip you and his children from his arms.

It would never happen, not in a million years.

Jinwoo wanted answers.

“They’ve started calling it Mana Blindness.” The Chairman whisked his glass around in the palm of his large hand after dinner. He eyed you closely to ensure you couldn’t hear from the kitchen while you were preparing dessert, where Jin-chul kept you company. “By the end of her pregnancy, she won’t be able to use her mana or see any aura at all.”

Not by the end of your pregnancy, Jinwoo anticipated that it was either close to it, or happening already.

It begged the question that played on Jinwoo’s mind. “Will she recover after the birth?”

“We hope so. But the evidence we have is extremely limited.”

"What caused this?"

For the first time ever, Jinwoo watched on as the Chairman gave a casual, unknowing shrug. "We aren't sure. It could be one of the parents mana passed down, of environmental factors. There's no information to suggest anything solely responsible."

It could be my fault then? Jinwoo recognised his own aura from you, the very same from one of the babies that could have been the source which was draining you.

And you’d really be dependent on him, then. If you could no longer use mana or see aura, you would no longer be classed as an S-Rank hunter. You would no longer be able to participate in raids and therefore have more time to stay home with the twins.

Jinwoo could even get you pregnant again.

The Chairman noticed Jinwoo’s silence, he watched his reflection from the window out onto the city. “Jinwoo, I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot surrounding this programme.” 

“I think so too.” Jinwoo shook those thoughts away and agreed and sipped his own drink, holding himself back from asking everything that was going through his head. “This whole ordeal has been stressful for us. For her. I don’t understand it.”

“While it might not be evident as of late, I do respect you deeply. You are the future of the association and I hope one day, you’ll take up my offer to be more involved, even if you are fighting on the front lines... But I can explain my behaviour, and I hope you’ll let me explain entirely before making up your mind?”

“Go on, sir.”

“You were always going to be one of the first in the programme, because of your abilities. I was quite thrilled that both of you were matched at random, seeing how different your abilities are…” He paused and took a drawn out sip of his whiskey. “I was anxious at first, seeing how long it took, but I was most excited when I received the news of the pregnancy, and I can see that it has made an impression.”

The Chairman continued and mentioned your name. “Because she was opposed to it at first, I thought that I could take the lead for both of you to make the process smoother, and it seems that I missed the mark entirely.”

“We’re in love, Chairman. I won’t be with anyone else if it isn’t her for the programme, even if it turns out that she can’t use mana anymore. If she loses her hunter status, it doesn’t matter. We can still be involved, but on our own terms. I want to start a real family with her, and have more children.”

“I can see that.” He chuckled, patting Jinwoo on the shoulder with a reassuring squeeze like a father would. “I understand how you both feel, and I’ll make sure the rest of the pregnancy is as stress free as I can make it, but there will still be people who want to meet these babies. I can’t stop that. Not now that the world knows about them. But we can improve relations with each other and I can assure you that there will be no tests, nothing to do with the facility. But all I ask is that you meet with these people after the birth, that’s all I ask.”

Jinwoo shrugged, holding out for a glance at the Chairman with the biggest wide eyes of curiosity he could muster. “Mind if we think about it, Chairman? We should talk about it together, she’ll be exhausted after the birth and I want her to enjoy the rest of her pregnancy without fear of what’s to come.”

“Of course, Jinwoo.”

“Thank you.”

Jinwoo was almost sold. Almost. His gut was telling him to be cautious, to be wary enough around the Chairman so that he never let his guard down. But, it made sense to what he was telling him too.

Only time would tell, and after the twins birth, Jinwoo would know who he truly trusted.

Part 16 <- Part 17 -> Part 18

Okay, Okay... I told you I was terrible at picking names for stuff, wtf is Bora's lone legacy? I mean come on Milkshake! I think I spent more time trying to make up a fictional name instead of actually coming up with more plot. Oh well, I guess its lore in this AU now. If anyone can tell me what they think the plot of this made up show is that's getting Beer so excited, PLEASE tell me. I'd love to hear it 😂

ALSO any more Korean baby names? I'm compiling a list. I'll post the deadline when the time gets closer before the wee babies arrive.

Thank you for reading and all of the support on this fic! ❤️ Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated and I appreciate you all! See you next time 🤗

Tag list - @bubera974 @snowy-violet @sky2lar @starrynights23x @kamiliora

@yessirr7 @aussie-boys-wife @yihona-san06 @mashiromochi @daiyanomochi

@justatimidcreator @alia-17 @otomegamesforlife @m00n-estelle @towomatos

@stormnightingale @johnnysactualgf @solarisstarrsolomonsbeloved @johnnysactualgf @notleclerc

@minkuro @misakicchi @lovingyeet @soft-dots @gina239

@sabrina-senpai @tsukimoon-chan @afkmylajah @livelaughlovekuni @keiva1000

@delusionillusion322 @dreamingoftomorrow @gina239 @blxuqueenie @stardust0709

@chahaezii @athanasia10 @crutoyu @thetruepair @lostpsycho13

@dragoonsuki @sashagaming1012 @maria-trisha @dyavorange @mommydelicious5272

@shortchubbytat @celesteelysia @forgotten-moon94 @sleepyamaya @applepi405

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[jjungkookislife]

Home for the Holidays Pt. 2 (M)

pairing: jungkook x f. reader

genre: fake dating au, f2l, christmas au, smut [18+] Put your age in your bio so you don’t get blocked please 💜 this is an 18+ blog

summary: Jungkook is in desperate need to find a girlfriend for Christmas. His mom has nagged and nagged about him bringing someone home for the holidays. Determined, Jungkook recruits his friends in hopes of finding the right girl to take home. In need of a place to stay, and no plans for Christmas, you answer his friend’s ad.

You have 25 days to convince not only his parents but his grandmother that you’re in a real relationship, solid enough to get through Christmas with the Jeons.

wc: 14.3k

warnings: pet names (babe, baby, sweetheart, honey, love, darling, good girl, doll), food/food mention, mention of conning JK's grandmother, mention of a blowup doll, making out, marking (scratching, biting, hickeys), jungkook has a motorcycle but his grandmother forbids him from using it while she's there, mention of jungkook's grandfather's death, one-bed trope, mention of slot machines, mention of a breeding kink, reader is on the pill, mention of being self-conscious (reader), mention of drowning in melting snow due to embarrassment, hair pulling, jungkook is a consent king (and it's hot af, okay?), fingering (f. receiving), handjob (m. receiving), oral sex (f. giving), unprotected sex, spanking, multiple orgasms, creampie

a/n: a HUGE thank you to @btsgotjams27 for allowing me to scream about this JK in her inbox for weeks! and for helping me go over the ending! thank you, thank you, thank you!

read part one here

date: January 12, 2024

The moment you set foot in Jungkook’s family home, it was like stepping foot in a department store the day after Thanksgiving. 

Holiday decor sits on every inch of the living room wall—there are snowflakes, snowmen, Santas, and jolly words on every bit you see.

A giant Christmas tree takes up a large portion of the living room in a corner far from the fireplace. Large red bows hung from the branches, and a gold star sat on the top. A candle on the coffee table burns, filling the home with its vanilla cookie scent. 

The dining room had an elegant arrangement of candles and ribbons. A glass jar of red and gold ornaments sat in the middle as a centerpiece. 

“Jungkook!” Came an elated greeting from the kitchen. An older woman came rushing toward him, her hands cupping his cheeks as she hugged him tightly. 

Jungkook grunted when he was pulled to her height, swaying side to side as she hugged him. 

“Never leave me,” she nearly sobbed dramatically. You bit back a laugh. 

“Mom,” Jungkook wheezed. “You’re scaring my girlfriend. She doesn’t know you’re joking.”

“I’m not joking,” his mom laughs as she squeezes him one last time before releasing him. 

“Mom!”

Jungkook’s mom ignored him as she stepped toward you. 

“Hello,” you wave meekly. You introduce yourself, and she smiles. 

“I’m Aera,” Jungkook’s mom introduces herself as she pulls you into a hug. “It’s so nice to meet you! Jungkook said nothing but good things about you. I swear he’s so in love!”

“Mom!” Jungkook hissed as he ran his hand over his face. 

You giggle, linking arms with Aera. “Is that so?”

Jungkook watches as the two of you head toward the kitchen, arm in arm, while he rolls the suitcases further into the house after shutting the front door. 

“Oh, Jungkook,” his mom says as she has you sit at the table. “You’re in Seojun’s old room, and this sweetheart is in yours.”

Jungkook nods as he locks eyes with you, silently asking if you’ll be okay for a few minutes while he takes the luggage upstairs. 

“Here,” Aera hands you a small dessert. “Seojun made these just for you. You’ll meet him tomorrow along with his fiancée, Saraí.” 

“Ooh, chocolate,” you grin as you take the chocolate and take a bite. You moan from how good it tastes, melting right on your tongue. 

Aera claps her hands, turning on her heel as she grabs a few more desserts for you to try. 

By the time Jungkook joins you, you’re on your third dessert. 

“Mom,” he sighs. “Please don’t force-feed my girlfriend. She just got here.”

Aera frowns at her son. “Fine. You open up.”

Jungkook dodges a brownie bite and sits beside you. His mom heads back to the kitchen to grab drinks as the front door opens and shuts. 

“Sorry,” Jungkook apologizes. “I told her to wait at least thirty minutes before she stuffed you full of chocolate and desserts.”

“Hello,” a voice calls. You smile, though nerves still eat at you when you realize Jungkook’s father has arrived home. 

“Dad!” Jungkook rises from his seat to hug his dad tightly. Jungkook looks just like him, though a little taller and broader. 

You rise from your seat, wiping your hands on your pants in a poor attempt to clean them. 

You introduce yourself to Jungkook’s dad, shaking his hand. 

“Nice to meet you, honey. I’m Dae.”

“We’re gonna go get settled in,” Jungkook says as he takes your hand. “We’ll be down for dinner.”

“When am I seeing Jimin, Joon, Tae, Jin, and Yoongi?” Aera asks her son. “It’s bad enough that Hoseok won’t join us this year.”

“He had plans, Mom,” Jungkook explained.

“Love, the kids just got home to their parents. Let them take their shoes off before you host a reunion,” Dae chuckles. Aera nods, going for her house phone to ring up Jimin’s mom across the street to chat about their boys. 

Jungkook uses the distraction to lead you toward the stairs. 

“I’m so sorry,” Jungkook groans as he plops down on the desk chair of his old bedroom. “I thought I had a minute or something before she started feeding you.”

“It’s okay,” you giggle as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Your mom is just excited.”

“I’ll say,” Jungkook grumbles as he wraps his arms around your waist. “Thanks for doing this.”

“No problem! Besides, those brownie bites are delicious!”

Jungkook chuckles. “There’s plenty more downstairs. Lemme show you around.”

Jungkook shows you where the bathroom is. His room is across the hall from yours, while his parents' room is further down the hallway. There’s another stairway upstairs that leads to the entertainment/game room. Downstairs is an office, a guest bathroom, and a laundry room. 

The backyard is through the back door in the kitchen, and the door near the living room leads to the garage. It’s all pretty simple to memorize. You’ll mostly be on the second floor unless you have to use the kitchen or living room. 

By the time you’re back in the kitchen, Jimin’s sitting at one of the chairs with a plate full of brownies and a glass of milk. He gives you a chocolaty smile as Mrs. Jeon sets a plate of cookies beside him. 

“Got enough to share, Jimin?” Jungkook asks as he pulls a chair out for you before he sits beside you. 

“No,” Jimin swallows his bite and downs half a glass of milk. 

“Jimin,” Aera laughs, and Jimin reluctantly pushes the plate of cookies toward you and Jungkook. 

“So,” Dae smiles at you. “How did you and Jungkook meet?”

“School.”

“Jimin.” You say, cringing at Jungkook’s answer being different from yours. 

His parents look confused for a moment before Jimin speaks up.

“I met her in one of my classes, and we became friends. Then Jungkook stole her from me,” Jimin jokes. 

Jungkook turns red. “I didn’t steal her! You said you were just friends!”

You laugh with his parents. The two men bicker back and forth like children. 

“I always had a crush on Jungkook. The moment I saw him, I knew he was special,” you admit. Jungkook pauses his fake fight to look at you; his eyes are soft, and something sparkles deep within. 

Even Jimin stares silently. He knew you had a crush on Kook the moment you laid eyes on him, but there was no way you were this great of an actress. After all, he had been the one to go with you to audition for Cinderella, and you tanked. Sorry to say so.

“Oh, isn’t that sweet?! True love!” Aera sings as she clasps her hands. 

“Mom!” Jungkook protests, feeling his ears burn from embarrassment. Perhaps he should have prepared you for his over-enthusiastic parents. 

“I hear wedding bells!” Aera continues until Dae grabs her and leads her out of the room. 

“Come on, let’s go get their pajamas.”

The three of you wait until you hear their footsteps disappear up the stairs. 

Jimin exhales dramatically. “You couldn’t even get the first lie correct?”

“We tried!” Jungkook hisses in response.

“Yeah,” you nod vehemently. “We got it right anyhow. We just fumbled a bit. No biggie.”

“The group chat isn’t gonna like this,” Jimin sighs. “Are you sure you can pull this off without us here?”

“It was just a little mishap,” Jungkook waved his hand. “We’ve got this.”

Jimin looks unsure but says nothing else as he gulps his milk down and rises from his seat. 

“Okay, I better get back to my family. I only snuck out for treats.”

You laugh as you hug him after he’s set his glass in the dishwasher. 

“Come around whenever,” Jimin instructs, kissing your forehead before waving to Jungkook. 

“What’s up next?” You ask your boyfriend. 

“Probably Christmas pajamas and a movie, then dinner and bedtime,” Jungkook replies as his parents' footsteps come down the stairs.

“Here they come.”

The evening flies by after you receive your pajamas. You thank the Jeons profusely as you put them on. 

The couple has gone to bed, leaving you and Jungkook to finish the last two minutes of the movie. 

Jungkook begins to clean up as soon as the credits roll before the two of you head up the stairs. 

Hushed voices greet you as you reach the landing. 

“I don’t know, Dae. Something seems fishy,” Aera said softly. 

“You’re overthinking this, love. Maybe they’re just respectful or shy.” Dae countered. 

“Well, Saraí and Seojun were always kissing and hugging. It just seems a little off.” Aera states. 

Jungkook looks at you, worry evident on his face.

“Maybe they’re not as comfortable with PDA. That’s fine by me,” Dae chuckles as he tells his wife to go to bed. 

Aera does so reluctantly.

Jungkook takes your hand and leads you to the bedroom you are occupying for your stay. He shuts the door as quietly as possible before he sits on the bed and pats the spot beside him. 

Once you’re on the bed sitting beside him, he wrings his hands in his lap. 

“I suppose we need to be more hands-on,” he states nervously.

“How about we wake up early tomorrow and watch a movie in the living room? We can cuddle and kiss a little when we hear them get up,” you suggest. 

Jungkook nods in agreement. 

“Do you need anything before I go?”

You walk Jungkook to the bedroom door. You bite your bottom lip, suddenly feeling shy. He is your fake boyfriend, though.

“A goodnight kiss?”

Jungkook’s cheeks warm at your words, but he gently grips your chin with his fingers before he presses his lips to yours. Your hands grip his shirt, holding him close as the kiss deepens and your lips muffle his moans. 

“Good night,” Jungkook whispers with one last kiss to your lips. 

“Good night,” you whisper as you watch him go. Your heart flutters as you shut the door and press your back against it. You squeal in delight and faintly hear Jungkook chuckle as he heads to his room. 

You ignore the heat that rises to your cheeks before scrambling to get into bed. 

The next morning, Jungkook shakes you awake gently. “Come on, darling.”

“Mmh,” you whine, swatting at him in your sleep. 

Jungkook dodges the next swipe, capturing your hand and kissing your palm. 

“Baby,” he whispers as he shakes you again. You curse, peering open one eye and then the other. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you grumble as you sit up. Jungkook grins smugly. “Or I’d bop you on that cute nose of yours.”

Jungkook laughs, shaking his head. “Come on, babe. My parents will be up soon.”

“I’m sleepy,” you huff but get out of bed and follow Jungkook downstairs. He’s already got a movie playing in the background and two mugs of hot chocolate sitting on the coffee table. 

You try not to squeal in excitement when you see he’s poured yours into a snowman mug. 

By the time Jungkook’s parents make their way downstairs, the both of you are cuddling on the couch. Jungkook’s got your head on his shoulder, feeding you pretzels and holding your hand. 

Aera and Dae exchange a look but say nothing other than their morning greetings as they get ready for work. 

Dae is out in ten minutes, promising to be home early, while Aera stops by the living room to kiss each of you on the top of your head on her way out. 

“Seojun and Saraí will be here for dinner,” she calls as she grabs her keys and heads out the door. 

You spend the day with Jungkook watching movies and playing video games upstairs. Jimin and Joon pop in for a quick visit, but their parents call them home for lunch and they leave you alone with Jungkook again. 

“I think we’re doing pretty well,” you muse as you hold Jungkook’s hand while he waits for the game to load on the TV screen. 

He chuckles. “Seojun might mess it up.”

You giggle, shaking your head. 

“I think we’ve got this,” you state as you kiss his cheek, his jaw, and the mole beneath his lip. Jungkook sighs happily, dropping the controller on the carpet before he cups your face. 

Fake or not, he genuinely enjoyed kissing you. He wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to do so now. 

You moan when he pushes you back onto the couch, your legs on either side of his hips. His lips feel soft against yours as your hands slide under his shirt. 

“Kook,” you moan softly as you move your head to allow him more room, his lips burning in their wake as he trails kisses down to the collar of your shirt. 

Your fingers weave through his long black hair, tugging when his lips nip at your skin. He moans your name softly, groaning when you beg him for more. 

His hand grips your hip, squeezing as his hips rock against you. A curse escapes you as you melt beneath his broad shoulders, your nails dragging down his back. 

“Fuck, baby.” He groans, his lips finding yours as his tongue pushes past the seam of your lips as the kiss deepens. You whine as you feel him press against you, your hands greedy as you pull him impossibly close. 

“Shit!” A voice startles you.

You pull away from Jungkook, face warm as Jungkook gets off you. 

“Sorry, we should have knocked.” A woman apologizes. She’s shorter than Jungkook and the man beside her. Her hair is curly and black, falling in waves down her back. Her beautiful golden skin appears glowing and rivals the brightness of her smile. 

“We did knock,” the man says, looking at her. She jutted him in the ribs with her elbow before turning to Jungkook. 

“We’ll be downstairs,” she announced in a rush as she shoved the man out the door before shutting it. 

Jungkook groans, hiding his cherry-red face in his hands. “That was Seojun and Saraí.”

“Oh!” You exclaim with wide eyes. “Fuck.”

“Well,” Jungkook said, carding a hand through his hair. “At least Seojun will believe us now.”

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. You wrap your arms around his waist and kiss the corner of his mouth. 

“To be continued?” You’re not sure where this bout of confidence has come from, but you know what you felt, and Jungkook wanted you just like you did him. 

“Tonight?” He asks in a sultry tone that makes you tighten around nothing. His dark-hooded gaze makes your pulse rise, and it takes everything in you not to push him onto the couch and continue where you left off. 

Jungkook holds your gaze, his tattooed hand resting on your lower back, a little too close to your behind. You bite your bottom lip, and his eyes watch you carefully as you slowly take a step back. Fire builds between you, nearly suffocating you, and you’d gladly let it for another taste of his lips. 

“Tonight,” you whisper as you head for the door. You swallow thickly as you eye him up and down, a hunger pooling deep inside you. 

Jungkook presses his thumb to his bottom lip as he devours you with his gaze, knowing one more lingering look will be all it takes to have you screaming his name as loud as your lungs allow. 

Ten minutes later, Jungkook and you join Seojun and Saraí in the living room. Jungkook introduced you to the couple as he sat beside you on the loveseat.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” Sarai exclaims. “Seojun thought you were imaginary.”

“Babe,” Seojun protests. 

“¿Que no?” Sarai asks him with a raised brow. “Didn’t you say Kook probably had a blowup doll?”

 Jungkook and Seojun burn brighter than Rudolph’s nose as they sink into the couches. You laugh along with Sarai at the men’s expense. 

“I like you,” you said with a bright smile. “We’re gonna get along just fine.”

Sarai smiled, “We have to stick together.”

“Saraí,” Seojun whines. “We just got here. You can’t recruit my little brother’s girlfriend against me already.”

“Why not?” Saraí asks with a mischievous grin. 

Seojun groans as he shakes his head, but his smile never dims as he looks at his fiancée. You cuddle up to Jungkook, and his arm drapes around you before he kisses the top of your head, almost second nature. 

-

A few hours later, Saraí and you share the couch upstairs while the Jeon brothers fight over the working controller. 

Saraí follows you on all your socials as she lies beside you. The both of you laugh as you show each other funny TikToks. Despite only knowing her a short amount of time, you’re glad she’s easygoing and loves to talk. It takes the pressure off you having to recall any information from Joon’s PowerPoint and flashcards, though the information is ready to be pulled at any moment should you need it.

“So then he takes me to the very top of the building,” Saraí gushes as she shows you a photo on her Instagram account. “You know, the ones with the glass panes you can stand on to overlook the city? Well, I was busy looking at the city while Seojun was turning green behind me! He’s terrified of heights, but he knew I wanted to go up there since forever, practically!”

“I almost threw up,” Seojun comments as he gives the controller to Jungkook, he’s no longer interested in fighting his younger sibling over the controller that doesn’t stick. 

Saraí laughs. “I turned around to tell him to join me. The view was incredible!”

You hang on her every word as she swipes to another photo. 

“And that’s when I noticed the mariachis and Seojun down on one knee. He even had my family there!” Saraí wipes a stray tear as she recounts her proposal and shows you more photos of the grand event. 

Seojun smiles at Saraí, hearts in his eyes. He turns to Jungkook with a raised brow. “It’ll be you two before you know it.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Jungkook coughs as he looks at you for help. His eyes have tripled in size from panic. 

“Yeah,” you nod, feeling like a bobblehead. “We’ve only been together for a bit.”

“Four months?” Seojun asks.

“Five!” You and Jungkook answer in unison, startling the happy couple. 

You clear your throat. “Almost six.”

“Nowhere near you guys time together,” Jungkook adds as he nervously tweaks the buttons on the controller. 

Saraí waves her hand. “You’ll hear wedding bells before you know it.”

“Yeah,” Seojun chuckles. “Ours.”

The two giggled before you and Jungkook exchanged nervous looks. 

How far would you take this?

Dinner passes without incident. Aera and Saraí are elbow-deep in wedding plans, scheduling lunch with Saraí’s mom before the evening ends. 

You excuse yourself when your friends show up, and the lot of you head upstairs with a plate of warm cookies accompanied by a tray filled with glasses of milk and mugs of hot chocolate.

Seokjin is on the lookout, watching the door as Joon gets comfortable beside Jimin and Yoongi. 

“How’s it going?” Taehyung asks as he takes Jungkook’s phone to upload a few more pictures to Instagram. 

“Yeah,” Joon says through a mouthful of cookies. “Jimin says you fucked up the first question Momma Jeon asked.”

“Jimin,” Jungkook hisses. 

“The first one?” Seokjin scoffs as he looks over his shoulder at you. “Babe, I would have done better.”

“I’m the one who needed to date someone!” Jungkook hisses louder. 

Seokjin shrugs. “I said what I said.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes at his friends and calms down when you grip his arm. 

“His parents thought we weren’t all over each other like Saraí and Seojun. We have to kick it up a little for them,” you state, your lip caught between your teeth. 

“Damn,” Yoongi sighs. “If they see through it, your grandmother won’t fall for it, Kook.”

“Don’t give up now,” Jimin insists while holding a rough sketch. “We’ve worked so hard for this. I already started designing my room in Kook’s new place.”

“Give me that,” Jungkook rips the paper from Jimin’s hands and crumples it. 

“I have copies,” Jimin smirks. 

“Look,” Taehyung speaks up. “We’ve all done our part. We just gotta get through it.” 

Namjoon nods. “Tae’s right. We all did what we said we’d do, even Hobi. He’ll be in town before the new year, and we can’t tell him the plan tanked. We all worked too hard for this. Let’s see it out.”

“I’m in,” Seokjin shrugs, feigning nonchalance by looking at his nails.

“Same,” Yoongi and Jimin add with a firm nod. 

Joon and Tae look at the two of you.

Jungkook looks at you, and you nod. You were already knee-deep in it; might as well make it to the other side. 

“Alright, we’re in,” Jungkook states ruefully. 

“Don’t worry, one of us will try to be around when Grandmother Jeon arrives. It’ll be a piece of cake!” Jimin grins. 

It was not a piece of cake. 

And if it was, it was a shit cake.

Grandmother Jeon rolled up with enough suitcases to rival a traveling circus. 

“Mother,” Dae gasps as he greets her at the front door. “What’s all this?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had!” Jungkook’s grandmother huffs as Dae and Jungkook help bring in the suitcases. 

Aera dashes to the kitchen for refreshments, and you hurry after her in a panic. 

“First, I misplaced my bingo winnings on the train. Then, they threatened to kick me off because Luna wouldn’t stop barking!” Grandmother Jeon looks at all her bags until Jungkook holds one away from him while he pinches his nose. 

“Oh, there she is! Kook be a dear and take her outside. Rinse her dog carrier for me. These old bones aren’t what they used to be,” she says as Dae helps her to the couch and then shuts the front door. 

“Mother,” Dae said as he sat beside her. “Why didn’t you call?”

“Oh, I didn’t want to be a bother!” She waves her hand about. Her glasses slip down her nose, and her hat is tilted. 

“You’re never a bother, Mom,” Dae states as he helps her out of her shoes and faux fur coat. 

“Good,” Grandmother Jeon states firmly. “Because Luna and I need a place to stay for the holidays.”

Jungkook freezes with Luna, a yapping black and white chihuahua in his arms. “What?”

Dae sends a glare at his son. “Of course, you can stay with us. What happened?”

“Dang cellphone made my reservations for next Christmas,” Grandmother Jeon huffed. “Dang things are called smartphones, more like dumb phones. Scheduled me for the wrong year!”

Dae exchanges a look with Jungkook, but neither says a word as you and Aera walk into the living room with coffee and cookies. 

“Oh, Aera! You look lovely! Keeping my boys in line?” Grandmother Jeon asks with a smile. 

“Always! We're so glad you’re staying with us,” Aera says genuinely, hugging the older woman. 

“Ooh, you know me. I gotta spread a little holiday cheer everywhere I go,” Grandmother Jeon jokes before she spots you. 

“And who is this marvelous woman hiding behind you, Aera?” 

Jungkook opens the back door, puts Luna out, and rushes to your side before you can blink. 

“Grandmother Jeon, this is my girlfriend,” Jungkook tells her your name, and her eyes light up like the fairy lights on the Christmas tree. 

“I’m Grandmother Jeon or Minji, whichever you prefer, dear. Let me look at you,” she coos as she takes your hands and looks you up and down. 

“You’re beautiful,” Minji grins widely. 

“Thank you,” you smile shyly. 

“And you know how to take a compliment. I like that! Confidence and a tough exterior are what you need to wrangle in these boys. They’ll give you more heart attacks than you can handle. Troublesome they are,” Minji shakes her head. 

“Mom!”

“Grandmother!”

“What?” Minji raises a brow, daring them to protest further. “Am I lying?”

“No,” Jungkook and his father shake their heads, avoiding eye contact. 

“Thought so,” Minji laughs. “Don’t worry, dear. Jungkook is the least troublesome of them all, though that motorcycle I saw on the driveway is enough to earn a lecture, Jeon Jungkook!”

“But-!”

“Jeon Dae, what did I tell you about my grandbabies riding those!” Minji sighs heavily as she lets you go. 

“Mother,” Dae starts as Minji rises from the couch. “He’s old enough to make his own decisions.”

Minji whirls on Jungkook, a sharp, well-manicured nail poking his broad chest. “You stick to driving while I’m here, sweetie. I don’t think my old heart could take it seeing you riding around town on that motorcycle.”

“I promise,” Jungkook raises his hand, and Minji grins, reaching to pinch his cheek. 

“Good boy,” she states before releasing him. “Now who’s gonna show this old bag of bones and her pup to her room?”  

“Mother, you’re only-” Dae is cut off by a glare so icy it could freeze Hell and all its inhabitants. 

“Get my dog, son. She gets cold without her winter wear,” Minji grumbles as she heads towards the stairs. “She’s your little sister, after all. You should treat her as such.”

“Mother,” Dae sighs heavily, but he knows it’s a losing battle. He opens the back door instead, and Luna walks into the home after wiping her feet on the mat. 

“Jungkook, sweetie, be a doll and get her wipes from the pink bag for me. I have to get her cleaned up before dinner,” Minji says as Dae hands her the little chihuahua. 

“She’s not going to expect Luna to have a seat at the table, is she?” You ask Jungkook’s mom as you watch Dae and Jungkook carry her bags up the stairs. 

Aera says your name with a whimsical smile. “Expect the unexpected.”

Jungkook knows you’re trying your best not to stare, but you fail miserably.

Dinner is in the dining room with the large dining table that seats twelve, but there are only eight of you tonight. 

Dae sits at the head of the table with his wife on the left and his mother on the right. Beside Aera, Jungkook has taken his spot while you sit beside him. However, you can’t help but look at Luna in her high chair across from him. 

Seojun sits across from you with Saraí on his right. She smiles politely as she tries to muffle a laugh in her napkin. She was as surprised as you the first time Minji rolled into town with her dog and the high chair. 

You’re sure Luna is eating out of a crystal bowl and drinking from a crystal goblet. The only thing that sparkles more than both is the ring sitting on Saraí’s finger.

“So, sweetheart,” Minji starts as she dabs at her mouth. “How did you meet our Kookie?”

“Mother,” Dae shoots an annoyed look her way that she waves off with a perfectly manicured hand. 

“I’m merely curious,” Minji smiles softly, her pearls draped over her bubblegum pink dress. There’s not a silver hair out of place, nor is her lipstick smudged from eating and enjoying a glass of wine with dinner. 

“We met through Jimin,” Jungkook answers for you, but Minji continues to stare at you, awaiting a response. 

“We met through Jimin at school. Jimin and I shared a class and introduced me to Jungkook and his friends. I had a crush on him since the first time I saw him,” you can feel the heat rise in your cheeks as Jungkook takes your hand in his, kissing your knuckles before setting it on the table. 

“So, who broke first?” Seojun asks with interest, ignoring his “aunt” as she chews on her steak. 

“Jungkook,” you giggle as you recite the story Yoongi had concocted. “We went on a walk after dinner one night and he confessed. Asked me out for the next night, and we’ve been dating ever since.”

“We went to the beach for our first date,” Jungkook adds. “Shared a milkshake on the boardwalk.”

“My Kookie finally found someone!” Minji claps her hands, startling the dog beside her. 

“Do you have pictures?” Aera questions as she rises from the table. 

Luna finishes her meal, and Dae takes her outside while Jungkook and Seojun clear the table. You send Jungkook a wary look, but he smiles in reassurance, mouthing, “You’ve got this.”

“Let’s head to the living room for tea and hot chocolate,” Aera said as she dashed to the kitchen to grab drinks and desserts. 

Saraí goes to help her while you help Minji to the couch. 

“I don’t know how to snoop on the phone like Seojun loves to do,” Minji laughs as you take your phone out of your pocket. 

“Ah, there’s my boy,” Minji says as she adjusts her glasses to look at your Lock Screen. A photo of you and Jungkook in matching Christmas sweaters greets her. 

“He looks at you the way his grandfather looked at me before he passed. Love is a magical thing, dear. It can get you through almost anything,” Minji says, full of wonder as she stares off into the distance for a moment before she clears her throat. 

Your heart sinks in your chest. Jungkook hadn’t mentioned his grandfather before and seeing Minji now and going through with this plan was making you feel sick. 

“I hope we didn’t miss anything,” Saraí sings as she sets down a tray of hot drinks. She hands one to Minji before she takes one for herself. 

Aera and Dae join you, while Luna curls up under the Christmas tree on the tree skirt beside the presents. 

“I hope we did,” Jungkook utters, only to be elbowed by his older brother. 

“I saw a few photos on Instagram this week,” Seojun comments as he grabs a cookie. “You both look cute.”

Saraí helps Aera log into her account so she can see the photos on Instagram while you show Minji the pictures on your phone. 

“The two of you are adorable,” Minji coos as you show her another photo. Jungkook watches on from beside his father, the two sharing the couch closest to the fireplace. 

For a moment, Jungkook can pretend that it’s real. That you fit into his family perfectly, just like Saraí does. That they adore you just like he does and that you could possibly love him.

Thirty minutes later, Minji is yawning and calling for Luna. The two head upstairs slowly, yawning and wishing everyone a good night. 

“Oh, dear,” Aera says as she looks at you and Jungkook. “We gave Grandmother Jeon Seojun’s old room.”

You look at Jungkook with wide eyes. 

“You don’t mind sharing Jungkook’s old room, do you?” Aera asked as she and Saraí cleared up the drinks and cookies. “It’ll be just like at home.”

“Um… yeah,” you cough as you look at your feet. “Just like home.”

“Perfect,” Dae says as he helps clean up. “Why don’t the two of you unpack in Jungkook’s room, and we’ll see you in the morning?”

“Sure, Dad,” Jungkook takes your hand, saying goodnight to his family before leading you up the stairs. 

On the landing, you hear his grandmother and Luna snoring already, and you wonder how they could fall asleep so quickly. 

Jungkook leads you into the bedroom and shuts the door, pressing himself against it. 

You’re careful not to trip on his suitcase as you open yours to get your pajamas out. You’ve been following Hoseok’s strict clothing schedule and you’ve sent Hoseok photo confirmation every day so far.

“I’m so sorry,” Jungkook whispers as he walks toward you. “I never thought this would happen.”

“What do we do?” 

“I’ll sleep upstairs in the game room,” Jungkook answers. His back already hurts from imagining a night on the lumpy couch. 

“Your parents will know something’s up,” you hissed in response. 

“I’ll sleep on the floor, then,” Jungkook shrugs. “Problem solved.”

“But it’s your room. Your bed.”

“And I got you into this mess,” Jungkook frowns. “It’s only for a few nights, anyway. No biggie.”

You bite your lip but say nothing as you take your pajamas and step out of the bedroom to go to the bathroom. You change and brush your teeth before going to the room once again.  

Jungkook goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth and do his skincare routine before returning to the room. 

He grabs extra blankets from the closet and a few pillows before he lies down on the floor.  

The two of you stare at the ceiling in silence. 

“Well, this is awkward,” Jungkook chuckles.

You throw a stuffed animal at him. 

“Jungkook!”

“What? You were thinking about it!”

“You didn’t have to say it,” you grumble as you roll on your side to stare at him. You pull the covers over your shoulders, shivering in your oversized tee and pajama shorts. Hoseok dropped the ball with this one outfit, but maybe he didn’t care too much about your sleeping clothes. 

“Goodnight, sweet girlfriend of mine,” Jungkook coos, wiggling his toes in those dreaded toe socks. 

“Goodnight,” you huff, sticking your tongue out at him.

Wednesday greeted you with Luna’s obnoxious barking. 

You groaned as you placed a pillow over your head, hoping to drown out the sound, but alas, it was no use. 

“Koo,” you whine, throwing a pillow at him. He grunts in response from his makeshift bed on the floor. 

“I hear it too,” he murmurs as he tries to cling to sleep, but it’s useless. 

Cursing, Jungkook sits up. He stretches and yawns for a minute before getting to his feet and folding his makeshift bed of blankets and pillows. His back and neck would be hating him all day. 

With all the excitement of Grandmother Jeon and your new sleeping arrangements, there wasn’t any time for any practice. 

Now you have bedhead and morning breath, and god, you hope you don’t have dried drool on the corner of your mouth. You can’t let Jungkook see you like this!

“Close your eyes!” You hiss as you scramble out of his bed. 

Jungkook's eyes widen in alarm. “What?! Why?!” 

“Just do it! Don’t look at me!” You hiss as you hear the barking move further away. You try to step over your fake boyfriend but trip on a blanket and fall beside him. 

Jungkook grunts when you elbow him in the stomach, and before either of you can move, the door opens, and Jungkook’s mother stands there with wide eyes. 

“Um, breakfast will be ready in a bit,” she says as she shuts the door as quickly as possible. Perhaps next time she’ll remember to knock, but after the commotion, she was worried someone was hurt. 

“Great,” Jungkook sighs as he falls back into his pillows to stare at the ceiling. 

What a great way to start his morning.

Jungkook’s parents and grandmother are gone for the rest of the day. Something about slot machines and Grandmother Jeon feeling lucky… or did she say she was gonna get lucky?

“Luna Patrice Jeon,” you huff, stomping your foot as you try to get her coat on her, but she wriggles in Jungkook’s beefy arms. 

The two of you were supposed to be outside five minutes ago, and all your friends and their dogs were waiting for you and Jungkook. 

Jungkook had managed to put Luna’s booties on, but she was a squirmy little thing when it came to her coat and earmuffs. Minji had been very thorough with her instructions, and Jungkook promised to watch his aunt. 

His dog-aunt.

“Hi, pretty girl,” Seokjin coos as he lets himself into the Jeon home. 

Luna pants as Seokjin rubs between her ears and easily gets the coat on her. About four inches of snow had fallen overnight, and the dogs were eager to play at the park just down the road. 

“There we go, Luna. That wasn’t so bad, huh?” Seokjin grins as he kisses the dog on the forehead and puts the earmuffs on. 

“God, he’s a dog whisperer,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, but Seokjin ignores him as he sets Luna in the stroller with her blanket and some treats. He zips the stroller shut and carries it out onto the sidewalk. 

“I can’t help it if the ladies love me,” Seokjin smirks as he sends a wink your way. You smile bashfully, giggling when he blows you a kiss. 

“Hey!” Jungkook stomps his foot. His cute bunny nose scrunching. “You’re my girlfriend!”

“Better keep her close, JK!” Jimin teases as he pushes his dog stroller. 

Namjoon and his little dog wear matching coats and booties, leading the group down the road. Taehyung pushes his stroller, where his Pomeranian sleeps wrapped in a fluffy blanket, and Seokjin carries Hoseok’s dog that he may have snatched for this outing. 

“Who knew we’d end up pushing strollers this Christmas break instead of clubbing,” Yoongi chuckles as he meets up with you at the end of the block. In his stroller with the spinning rims sits his dog, Holly.

“Almost seems like we’re growing up,” Taehyung wipes a fake tear from his cheek as the group pushes the strollers on the sidewalk. 

“Who do you think will push one of these with an actual child first?” Namjoon asks as his dog sniffs the snow, his nose freezing at the contact. 

“Jungkook,” the group answers as Jimin and Taehyung push their strollers in a light jog, racing to the first tree they see a few feet away. 

“Pfft, why me? I’m the baby,” Jungkook protests. 

“Aren’t you the one with the breeding kink?” Yoongi smirks as he walks past the two of you.

Jungkook is left flabbergasted. His face rivals a tomato’s as he feels his ears burn just as bright. 

“I told you that in confidence!”

“Whoops!” Yoongi cackles as he joins the race between Tae and Jimin.  

Jungkook wonders if four inches of melting snow would be enough to drown him.

You push the stroller with Luna, giggling as you jog past Jungkook.

“Sucks for you!” You call over your shoulder. “I’m on the pill!”

Jungkook curses Yoongi, running after him as he threatens to end the Min line with him. 

Namjoon smiles as he walks beside Seokjin, enjoying the chaos he created from his question. 

“You’re an evil little man,” Seokjin cackles as Namjoon laughs and follows the group.

Thursday afternoon is filled with last-minute Christmas shopping. 

Seojun and Saraí have joined you. Seokjin and Jimin tagged along, but it seemed they weren’t as necessary now as they thought they would be. 

Sure, Seokjin still curbed the conversation when you or Jungkook failed to answer a question or two about your relationship, but it wasn’t anything detrimental. The group honestly thought you had this in the bag, and with Christmas only three days away, there wasn’t a whole lot to worry about. 

Jungkook rubs his neck for the fifth time. He can’t seem to get rid of the soreness he’s gotten from sleeping on the floor. 

You pull him away after you lose Jimin and Seokjin in a department store with blasting Christmas music. 

“Sleep with me tonight,” you said as you held Jungkook’s hand in a surprisingly empty aisle. The hustle and bustle of shoppers falls into the background, and all Jungkook can hear is the rapid drumming of his heart.

“W-what?” He stutters with wide eyes. He toys with his lip ring, a nervous habit of his. 

“Sleep with me on the bed tonight, Kook. You’re obviously in a lot of pain, and I feel bad.” You frown as you turn him around to rub his neck and shoulders. 

Jungkook resists the urge to curse, biting his lip to hide a moan as you get into the muscles. Fuck, he really needed to sleep in a proper bed soon. 

“Are you sure?” Jungkook asks as he slowly pulls your hands off him to hold in his.

“It’s only for a few more days,” you shrug. “Grandmother Jeon leaves for her cruise before the new year, so why not?”

Jungkook is reluctant, but as a cramp hits his neck. 

He nods. “If you’re sure.”

“Definitely,” you smile as you lace your fingers with his to lead him out of the aisle. You lead him out of the store and toward the giant Christmas tree in the center of the mall. 

You take your phone out and snap a cute picture of the two of you before looking at it and see mistletoe on one of the branches above your head. 

Jungkook blushes as he pecks your lips, but you pull him back in for another kiss. You fist his jacket in your hand as you pull him close, your lips moving with his perfectly as the cool metal of his lip ring brushes your lips. You moan when he nips at your lip, gently sucking it before releasing it. 

His dark gaze sends tingles down your spine as you wrap your arms around his neck, and he leans in to kiss you again. 

“Tonight,” Jungkook murmured against your lips, the two of you stuck like magnets, unwilling to pull apart. 

“Tonight,” you agree as you kiss him again, your fingers tugging on his lush locks just enough to make him curse against your lips. 

“You’ll pay for that, baby,” he groans when you do it again.  

“I can’t wait, Koo.”

Your shower takes longer than usual that night. You shave, exfoliate, and lotion every bit of you that Jungkook might touch. 

You’re nervous but excited at the thought of him touching you. Just kissing you nearly sends you over the edge sometimes, and the way he grips your hips as if he must be anchored to you to breathe, well, it’s a nice feeling. 

By the time you’re climbing into bed, the house is silent. Jungkook turns on his mood lamp, and his playlist plays softly in the background. 

He’s made sure to lock the door this time to keep his mother out. 

A purple towel is draped over his shoulders as he plops down on the desk chair. He gives his hair one more rub, but he’s already had the hairdryer on it for a bit. 

You try not to ogle his bare chest, the colorful sleeve of tattoos grabbing your attention almost 

immediately as he sets the towel down.  

“Mind if I sleep without a shirt on? I tend to run hot,” he explains as he tongues his ring. 

“That’s fine,” you squeak as heat rushes to your cheeks. You pull the covers to your chest, wiggling your toes as you avoid meeting his gaze. Though his abs are now in your view, and your thighs press together in response. What you wouldn’t give to kiss every beautiful ridge of his torso, taking your time on his sensitive brown nipples. You wonder if he’d ever get them pierced. 

“Need anything while I’m up, babe?” Jungkook asks as he stretches, his arms raised over his head and you nearly whimper as you feast on his perfect physique. 

You’re nearly salivating by the time he’s finished stretching. He tilts his head as he waits for your answer but you blink owlishly and finally meet his gaze. 

“Hmm?” You ask as you blink again as he laughs. He shakes his head as he crosses the distance between you, moving the blankets out of the way as he gets into bed with you. 

“You’re adorable,” he whispers as he pecks your nose.

You smile, clearing your throat as you lie on the bed. Jungkook turns on his side to face you, and you do the same. His arm drapes over your waist, and you snuggle in closer.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispers, almost as if it were a secret. Perhaps it is with the way he strokes your waist, refusing to make eye contact; afraid of what his words will shift. 

“I’m glad I’m here too, Kook. I don’t want to be anywhere else,” you admit as his gaze meets yours. He studies you for a few moments. His beautiful eyes sparkle like the stars in the night sky, shining brighter and brighter with each passing second until they flutter shut and his lips mold to yours. 

“Jungkook,” his name rolls off your tongue so sweetly. 

“Yeah, baby?” He asks in between kisses, his hands never straying from your hips until you guide them upward to cup your tits. He curses, dark eyes piercing through your soul as you make him squeeze them. 

“Fuck,” you whimper. 

Jungkook kisses you again, swallowing your moans as his thumbs brush your pert nipples. Your hands settle on his broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he trails kisses down your neck until he hits that one spot that has you seeing stars behind your lids.  

“Jungkook,” you sigh as you part your legs for him. He settles between them as your nails rake down his broad muscular back. You’d love to kiss every inch of it. Leave your mark behind for all to see. For now, you’ll settle for your scratch marks, storing each of his delicious sounds for later. 

Fiery lips meet yours as his hips rock against you. His hands feel every bit of you, moving when he notes any hesitation.

“Is this okay?” He asks softly, his gaze locked on yours. 

You nod.

“I need words, baby,” he says as he brushes his thumb along your jaw. “I need to hear it.”

“Please,” you swallow thickly, mesmerized by his soft doe eyes. “I want it. Want you.”

Jungkook traces your bottom lip with his thumb, admiring your beauty for a moment before he kisses you again as if it were the last time. 

Time means nothing to you as you melt beneath him. His hands are hot against your flesh, needy where they meet to pull you closer. Your name escapes him between moans and gasps, your hand guiding him between your legs. 

“Please,” you beg as he pushes your shorts to the side, groaning when he feels how wet you are. 

“No panties, darling?” He grins as he kisses your jaw and trails downward. 

“Didn’t think I needed them,” you gasp when his fingers brush your clit. He’s teasing you. He wants to see how far he can take you before you beg him for more, plead and whine until he gives you just what you need. 

Jungkook licks his lips, shaking his long hair out of his eyes before he tongues his lip ring. His breath fans against your heated skin, teeth gently nipping your earlobe as he whispers, “You were right.”

Your thighs shake at the sound of his seductive tone, spreading further for him as he lifts your shirt to bunch above your breasts. 

“Keep that right there, baby. Can you do that for me?” He raises a brow, and you nod. 

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” he praises, kissing your lips before making his way down until his fingers are tugging on your flimsy sleep shorts. 

“Can I take these off?” Jungkook asks as he meets your eyes. You nod, feeling fire pool deep in your belly. You want him desperately, almost embarrassingly, with how soaked you are for him already. 

When he doesn’t make a move to take them off, you remember he wants you to be vocal about your consent.

“Yes, please.” 

Jungkook pulls the shorts down your legs at a snail’s pace, giving you enough time to change your mind if you wish to. You encourage him by lifting your hips and kicking the shorts off to be lost on his bedroom floor. 

You don’t get a chance to be self-conscious as he cups your face and kisses you so deeply, that you almost wonder if he’s in love with you. 

The pounding of your heart is deafening as the kiss deepens and his hips press against your cunt. Your name rolls off his tongue, cursing and groaning when his hard cock grinds against you. 

“You’ve soaked my sweatpants,” he laughs breathily, and you clench around nothing. Your face feels like it’s burning, but from lust or embarrassment, you’re not sure. Jungkook kisses your cheeks, your nose, and finally your lips. 

“S-sorry,” you apologized as he rubs your clit, his nimble fingers circling it just to make you whine. Jungkook teases your entrance with his tattooed fingers, loving the way you whimper and beg for more, biting your bottom lip to keep from getting too loud. 

“Fuck, baby,” you moan when he finally sinks two fingers in knuckle-deep. You clench around them as he slowly fucks them into you, his thumb rubbing your clit as he focuses on the rise and fall of your chest.  

Jungkook palms his cock with his other hand, moaning softly when your eyes lock. He smirks as you reach for him and he places your hand on his cock. 

“Can you take them off?” You ask bashfully, and he chuckles before slowly taking his fingers out of you. He sucks them into his mouth, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as he gets a taste of you. 

Fuck, he’d have you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day for the rest of his life if you’d let him. 

Your thighs tremble as he steps back, cunt soaked and dripping onto his sheets. You’re the first girl he’s had in his bed like this and he hopes your scent lingers long after you’re back home. 

Jungkook is a vision. An Adonis among men. Michaelangelo himself would have shed a tear upon gazing at the masterpiece that is Jeon Jungkook. 

Speechless, you reach for him as he chuckles. He takes your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it gently before placing it on his chest. 

“Do as you wish, my love,” Jungkook says as he follows your hand with his hooded gaze. 

Your brain seems to be empty of all thoughts except Jungkook. His name, his body, that sinful smile that tugs at the corner of his lips. He’s eyeing you with mirth, licking his lips as your hand descends until it’s cupping his erection. 

“Fuck,” he breathes as you stroke him, your fingers sliding under his boxers to feel the weight of him in your palm. He groans, whispering your name as you continue to stroke him, pausing only to spit in your hand. He takes the moment to tug his boxers off.

Jungkook kisses you as you touch him again, his fingers finding their home between your thighs as he gets you to nearly sing his name in praise as you tighten around him. 

“Wish you were wrapped around my fat cock, babe. I’d make you scream even louder,” he goads as you muffle your cries in his broad shoulder right beside his little scar. 

“Jungkook, please,” you beg as he kisses you deeply. It’s hot, messy, all teeth and tongues and desperate touches as his cock pressed against your clit. You’re soaking wet, dripping onto the sheets and allowing his cock to glide easily, the fat head bumping against your clit as your legs wrap around him trembling at his sides. 

“Koo!” You whine, biting down on his shoulder. Hasty kisses meet his skin as you soothe the pain of your love bite. Your body becomes overwhelmed with pleasure, arching into him as you orgasm, squeezing his fingers until they’re soaked beyond his wrist. 

Jungkook cries out your name, lips finding yours in a sloppy kiss that swallows his moans and groans as he cums all over your cunt. His hips rock against you until he’s well spent, cock too sensitive to go on. 

“Shit!” He breathes as he lies beside you with his arm over his head. 

You’re warm and sticky beside him, his cum coating your skin generously. Jungkook kisses your cheek as he pulls you to him, using his other hand to fix his boxers. 

He doesn’t like the way they cling to him and he’ll be sure to clean himself up as well as you before you go to sleep. 

Silence fills the space between you as you stare at each other with bashful smiles and gentle touches. Jungkook kisses your lips softly, his fingers caressing your cheek.  

“I really do like you, ya know,” he admits, and it sends your heart soaring into the heavens. 

You bite back a giant grin as you lace your fingers together. “I really like you too.”

Jungkook blushes, kissing you once more before he climbs out of bed to get cleaned up. He assures you he’ll be back in a few minutes and he cleans you up with a warm washcloth and helps you to the bathroom. 

Once you’re both in bed again, he snuggles into you. His fluffy hair splays on your chest as he snores softly. You smile to yourself as you hold back a yawn. 

Jungkook sleeps soundly as you stroke his hair, hoping this can be more than just pretend. 

Christmas Eve brings a blanket of snow and Seojun and Saraí. 

Though you and Jungkook haven’t done more than fool around that one night, you’ve found it hard to keep your hands to yourself. 

Seojun, Saraí, and Jungkook took you sledding at one of their favorite spots. 

Jimin, Taehyung, and Yoongi were already there when you arrived, holding hands with Jungkook. 

“Where are Joon and Seokjin?” You ask as you hide your face from the wind on Jungkook's shoulder. He laughs as he tightens your scarf and kisses your head. 

“They went to pick up Hoseok at the train station. Hoseok’s parents are busy prepping for Christmas Eve dinner, and his sister is bringing someone home,” Jimin explains as he hands his sled to Taehyung to take a turn.  

“Sounds serious,” Yoongi comments with a sly grin. 

“My parents keep asking when I’ll bring someone home,” Jimin sighs. “Are you free next Christmas?”

Jungkook scoffs. “As if.”

“Not you.” Jimin rolls his eyes before saying your name. 

Yoongi laughs as Taehyung comes back. 

“I don’t think passing me around as a fake girlfriend is what your parents mean, Min,” you shake your head as you take the sled from Taehyung. 

Jimin shrugs. “Worth a shot.”

Jungkook glares at him before you tug him away to the top of the hill. He helps you onto the sled before he gets on behind you and pushes. You scream and close your eyes as you go down, laughing when you come to a stop moments later. 

“Wanna go again?” Jungkook grins as he helps you up. You shake your head as you pat the snow off your clothing. 

“I’m good,” you laugh. “Once was enough.”

The trek back up the hill is rough as you stomp in the snow to reach your friends. Jungkook hands the sled to Yoongi as he wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder. 

Despite admitting to liking each other, you haven’t talked to determine what that means. For one, you kind of like this limbo you’re in where you’re not not together but also not truly faking either. 

At one point or another, you’ll have to have that conversation, but it’s Christmas Eve, and Jungkook looks too cute with his giant snowball. 

Oh, no.

He’s heading toward you and Jimin. This is what happens when you get lost in thought. Jimin grabs your hand and pulls as Yoongi and Taehyung run in the opposite direction.  

Jungkook cackles as he chases after you and Jimin. The snowball rises high in the air as he shouts, “Come get your Christmas gift, Park!”

Luna herds the family up the stairs later that night when she’s ready for bed.

Jungkook and you wear your matching pajamas. An evening of food, laughter, and photos has drained you as you go up the stairs after Minji and Luna. 

Jungkook keeps his hand on your lower back, guiding your sleepy self up the stairs and down the hall. 

“Goodnight, honey,” Minji kisses Jungkook’s cheek and then yours. 

You smile as you climb into bed with Jungkook beside you. His mood lamp is on, and you’re grateful for the pink stars that light the ceiling. Even at your age, you’re still a little scared of the dark.  

“What’s on your mind?” Jungkook asks as he rolls to his side to face you. 

You face him, your fingers laced with his. 

“I’m just really glad I came to your home for the holidays. It’s been amazing. You, your family, everything has been perfect.” you smile warmly as he brings your knuckles to his lips to kiss gently. 

“I’m glad you came. I know this whole thing has been a little odd, but getting to know you and being here with you has been the best part of this Christmas.” Jungkook pecks you on the lips, unable to control the smile that lights up his face. 

Your gaze holds his, the sparkle in his eyes making you fall for him a little more as they grow brighter with each passing second.

“Kiss me,” you whisper as you lean in closer, and he closes the distance between you with his lips. They’re soft and taste like strawberry chapstick when they brush against your lips. You break apart for a moment, his eyes revealing more than you want to speak of now. 

Instead, you whisper, “Kiss me again.”

Slowly, Jungkook kisses you again. He cups your face while you tug on his shirt, quickly removing it from him. 

His breathy laugh brushes your skin as he noses at your throat. “Eager?”

“Shut up,” you hiss, climbing on top of him as his hands grip your hips. 

Jungkook groans at your words, licking his lips as you take your top off to discard on the bedroom floor. Your fingers make quick work of your bra and soon you’re left topless and horny on top of him. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook curses as he gets an eyeful of your breasts and nearly drools as his hands move upwards to cup them in his hands. You moan his name when his fingers brush the sensitive nipples, making them peak. 

As much as he loves seeing you on top, Jungkook wants to take his time with you. This was a turn of events he wasn’t expecting, otherwise, he would have waited for your first time together to be at his place, in private where you could scream his name as loud as you wanted. 

However, he won’t pass up the chance to have you. You’ve had such a hard time keeping your hands off each other even around your friends. Stealing kisses and sneaking off to make out in dim hallways and busy restaurant alleys. Light touches under tables, lustful looks shared across the room until you could sneak off together and kiss as if your lives depended on it. 

If Jungkook could do this all over again, he would. Only he’d make you his from the get-go. But that’s a thought for another time as your hands glide up his torso, moaning at the sight of him. 

“Jungkook,” his name tumbles so sweetly from your kiss-swollen lips. 

His breath fans across your face as he chuckles. His dark locks create a curtain between you. Slowly, your fingers push his hair out of the way to find his sparkling eyes locked on yours. You melt beneath him as he kisses you. 

Your hands grip his strong shoulders as your legs wrap around his hips to pull him close. Jungkook laughs at your eagerness, teeth nipping your bottom lip before releasing it. 

Jungkook kisses his way down to your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin until his name fills the bedroom. You cover your mouth to muffle your moans, but he’s quick to remove it. 

With lust-filled eyes, you watch as he takes your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing each fingertip until he’s kissing your palm and moving upwards. 

Jungkook wants to take his time with you. Show you his appreciation from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. He knows you’ll only let him do so much before you beg for more, more, more…

Like clockwork, your fingers thread through his hair directing his lips to yours as you kiss him with everything you’ve got. He moans against your lips, cursing when you tug on his bottom lip. 

Your hands move downward across the massive expanse of his back, each muscle rippling beneath your touch as you arch into him. Your hips grind against him, the thin material of your shorts already soaking wet with your arousal. 

Jungkook nearly growls when he feels it, cock throbbing in the next moment. He hikes your leg up higher on his waist, his hand grabbing your ass as his lips feverishly seek yours. 

Gasps and moans fill the space between you in between hot, needy kisses that make your toes curl. Panting, you beg him for more as his hands tug your shorts off to toss on the bedroom floor; forgotten until morning. 

You lay bare beneath him as he sat back on his haunches. His hands lace with yours, a soft bashful smile on his lips. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his eyes never straying from yours as he leans in for a kiss. 

Jungkook’s had enough teasing. His hands grip your thighs, cursing when he feels your wetness on your skin. He slowly rubs your clit, his dark hooded gaze on yours. 

“Fuck, baby,” he curses as he moves his fingers downward and slowly slides them inside you. He watches you closely; loves the way your eyes flutter shut and your teeth sink into your bottom lip as he curls his fingers and rubs your clit with his thumb. 

“Kook,” you moan when he goes faster, slipping a little deeper just to watch you tremble. “Fuck me.”

You’re tired of waiting. You’ve wanted this since before you shared your first kiss and now being naked in his bed is becoming too much. You’ve dreamed of this time and time again and it’s about to become a reality if Jungkook can stop teasing you and just split you open. 

You’ll beg, plead, and cry if you have to just for a taste of him. Just for a moment of sweet bliss. 

“Please,” you beg as your hands palm over his cock in his pajama pants. You’re quick to tug them downward and Jungkook laughs at your excitement. He gets off the bed to kick them off and your mouth waters at the sight of his thick cock as he wraps his hand around it and strokes it. 

You bite your bottom lip, watching him intently until you’re getting on your knees and crawling to the edge of the bed. 

Jungkook groans when your hand wraps around his length. Your tongue licking the head teasingly. His gaze burns into the top of your head as your lips wrap around him. You relax your jaw as you take him in further, drooling all over yourself as you remind yourself to breathe through your nose. 

He feels heavy on your tongue as you open wider. His hands grip your hair hesitantly before you pull off him. 

“Don’t be scared,” you giggle. “I won’t break.”

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans as you wrap your lips around him once again. He lets you find your pace, not pushing too deep before he’s guiding you. Your hand rolls his balls while the other strokes him. 

“Just like that. Fuck,” Jungkook throws his head back, the mood lamp illuminates the room, accentuating the veins in his neck, and he curses again. You moan around him, slurping as you get messy, bobbing up and down, gagging on his fat cock while Jungkook loses his mind over your pretty lips. 

He pulls on your hair, using it to fuck your mouth until your nose presses to his abdomen. You choke, pulling off him to catch your breath. 

“You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” Jungkook tongues his lip ring as he takes you in. You’re breathing heavily trying to catch your breath. Your hair is mussed from him tugging on it, and your lips are smeared with spit and his pre-cum. You look beautiful.

Jungkook leans forward, kissing you. All teeth and tongue, unable to resist how gorgeous you look in that moment. 

It’s not too long before you’re back on the bed with your legs spread wide open for him, begging for his cock once again. 

“So needy,” Jungkook coos as he strokes himself, the fat head of his cock brushing your clit. 

“Please,” you whimper, trying to raise your hips in hopes that he’ll just slide right in. “Fuck.”

Jungkook bites his lip. He’s never seen anyone so desperate for his dick. It makes him throb as he teases your entrance and a whine of his name escapes you, nails digging into his back. 

“Don’t make me find someone else,” you huff. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes as he kisses your jaw, trailing upward to your ear before taking the lobe between his teeth. 

“They can’t fuck you as good as I will,” he laughs cockily. 

You arch into him, lips meeting his in a needy kiss as he slides into you. The stretch is wonderful. Stars illuminate your vision as Jungkook’s lips muffle the moan that threatens to wake the whole house. 

The two of you have managed to keep the noises down to a reasonable level but Jungkook knows his luck might run out if he gets too carried away. Shit, he should have waited until he had you to himself at his apartment or even your dorm. 

“Gotta be quiet, baby. Or I’ll have to stop,” Jungkook whispers as he sinks in further. “You don’t want me to stop, do you?”

“No, please don’t stop. Koo,” you press your lips to his shoulder as he goes deeper, gripping your thighs with his large hands. He settles between your legs perfectly, cursing at the ceiling at how warm and wet you feel wrapped around him. It’s better than he could have ever imagined. 

Jungkook grabs both of your legs, throwing them over his left shoulder as he pummels into you. 

Tears flow down your cheeks. The pleasure is too overwhelming, lighting your body ablaze with each deep thrust that rewards you. 

“So tight,” Jungkook grunts as his hair falls over his eyes. He pushes it back with his tattooed hand before moving it down to grope your breast, his fingers rolling your nipple just to listen to the sweet cries that escape you. 

You tighten around him, soaking his cock as you cover your mouth with your hand. 

Jungkook smiles, fucking you deeper, harder. Your cunt clings to him, thighs shaking as he holds your legs to his chest. His lips press a kiss to your calf before you dig your nails into the sheets beneath you, beyond ruined. 

The creaking of the mattress is louder than Jungkook would like, but you look like you’re about to combust. His name leaves your lips in quick succession, nearly panting as tears roll down your cheeks, leaving behind stains as you bite your hand to keep from screaming his name as you tighten around him when you cum. 

Jungkook fucks you slower, eyes focused on where your bodies connect. He waits for you to calm down, leaning forward to kiss your lips. 

“Can you go for one more?” Jungkook asks in between kisses, your tongue meeting his as he cups your face. 

“Yes,” you answer honestly, wanting more of him. 

Jungkook kisses you one more time, moaning into the kiss as you clench around his cock. He nearly growls when you do it again, moving your hips against his.  

“Let me get you on your hands and knees, darling,” Jungkook says as he pulls out of you and you whine at the loss. 

Jungkook chuckles. “Easy, doll. You’ll have my ego growing bigger.”

You laugh, flipping him off. Jungkook laughs, leaning forward to gently nibble on your finger before you rip it out of his mouth.

Smirking, Jungkook helps you onto your knees as you plant your hands on the bed, arching your back. 

Jungkook runs his tattooed hand over your back, gently slapping your ass just to watch it jiggle. He couldn’t lie, seeing you in jeans made his mouth water and there were a few times he had to excuse himself after staring at it for too long. 

“Kook,” you say his name in a wanton tone that makes him melt. 

Your eyes lock and he smiles as he grabs your ass in both hands, spreading you open for him. Your face grows hot as you turn around, unable to handle the dark lust-filled gaze he rewarded you with. 

Jungkook doesn’t waste any more time as he lines himself up at your entrance, cursing when you welcome him easily. 

His hands grip your hips tightly, almost enough to bruise. His name rolls off your tongue. You nearly drool when he reaches places others have only dreamed of. 

You're so warm, so wet. It nearly drives him insane as he spears you on his cock. You’re soaking him, absolutely drenching him, and ruining him for anyone else. You’re the only one he wants, the only one he could ever want, and as he throws his head back in pleasure, he loses himself to thoughts he’d only shared with Yoongi. 

“Fuck, baby,” Jungkook growls, gripping your ass as he continues to fuck you. He cards his hand through his hair, feeling sweat bead on his brow as you grow restless and fuck yourself on his dick. 

“Just like that, baby. Use me. Use my cock. Fuck,” Jungkook groans as you fuck yourself on him, panting and moaning. He can see you biting down on his pillow, cunt pulsing around him as you scream into the pillow trying to keep quiet. 

Jungkook watches you for another moment or two before he’s slamming into you. You cry out, face buried in his pillow as he grabs handfuls of your hips and ass, unable to decide what to use to anchor himself as he fills you again and again. 

“Fuck, darling. You feel so good wrapped around me,” Jungkook grunts as his eyes flutter shut. His body tingles all over, and your moans are growing in octaves despite the pillow clenched between your teeth soaked with spit and tears. 

The obscene smacking of your coupling is almost too loud but Jungkook can’t be damned to give a single fuck as you clench around him, nearly milking his cock. He moans your name and curses as you tighten around him, moaning incoherently as you orgasm once again. Your poor legs shake as you ride it out, sobbing unintelligibly into the bed as praises you. 

“Want to fuck you full of my cum, baby,” Jungkook can’t help himself as he thrusts in deeper. He’s so close. His lip is caught between his teeth as you fuck yourself weakly on his cock, your body still tingling. 

“Please, do it,” you spur him on as you clench around him, tempting him. 

“Baby!”

“Jungkook!”

“Gonna fill you up until you’re dripping. Gonna fuck it all back into you, baby. Make you think of me all day.” Jungkook curses as you meet each of his thrusts, his fingers finding your sensitive clit as you muffle a wail of his name in your hand.

“Come on, love. Just one more for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook encourages as he nears the edge. He curses, losing himself as he fills you, and you tighten around him, soaking him and the sheets. A whimper escapes you as you fall forward on the bed, utterly spent. 

Jungkook exhales deeply as he fills you to the brim before pulling out. He’s tempted to spread your legs and set them on his broad shoulders, lick you clean, and put you to bed. 

But you’re spent, eyes barely open as you reach for him. 

Jungkook kisses you gently. “Gotta clean you up, babe.”

You groan, legs already feeling sore. Jungkook helps you out of bed. He puts a shirt on you and opens his bedroom door as quietly as possible. He peeks into the hallway, making sure the coast is clear before he leads you to the bathroom. 

Jungkook made sure you were steady enough to not fall before he ran to the room to change the sheets and pillowcases. By the time you’re back, he’s in a pair of boxers. 

“Get in bed, babe,” he instructs as he helps you in and tucks you in. “I’ll be right back.”

You watch him go, waiting for him and smiling when he comes back a few minutes later with some water. He lets you drink a bit before he gets into bed beside you. 

You curl into him, still unsure of what all this means, but you don’t care much when he wraps you up in his arms and holds you close. 

“Sleep well, darling.”

Christmas morning passes in a whirlwind of breakfast and movies. Lots of stories from Jungkook’s childhood; few you heard from the man himself and more from his parents. Jungkook grows embarrassed soon, but nothing beats the flush on his cheeks when his mother pulls out the photo albums. Lunch came and passed with more stories and photos as Jungkook hid his face on your shoulder.

It’s not until after dinner that you’re all gathered in the living room with Minji and the Jeons. 

“Come here, dear,” Minji pats the spot beside her as she holds a large pink photo album in her lap. One she brought for your arrival. 

Jungkook sits on the arm of the couch next to you, curious eyes on the album as Minji opens it and takes out two envelopes. 

One she hands to Jungkook and the other to you. 

You’re confused. The family had exchanged gifts just after dinner with good wishes and warm coffee and cookies. Wrapping paper and gift bags still littered the living room floor. 

“The two of you are so good together,” Minji comments as Jungkook kisses the top of your head. “I had this same talk with Saraí and Seojun when he first brought her home. Same with your father and your mother, and now you.”

Minji places a hand on yours. “I first met Jungkook’s grandfather at the Christmas parade in town. Oh, we couldn’t stand each other one bit!”

Jungkook chuckles as he listens to his grandmother.

“We were assigned the same parade float, and I swear that man was as stubborn as a mule! He wanted goats instead of reindeer, fireworks instead of candles, and he wanted me to be Santa! He said he’d be an elf! He was over six feet tall! An elf!” Minji shakes her head as she points to a photo of her as an elf and who you assume to be Jungkook’s grandfather as Santa. 

“I arm wrestled him for it!” Minji exclaims proudly. “In front of his friends, and I won fair and square! I grew up with three brothers.”

You laugh as she turns the page, and Minji sits with her brothers. They all smile in the photo and make silly faces. 

“I thought he’d be embarrassed that I beat him. But I got my way. I stood my ground and he claimed that’s when he knew I was the one for him,” Minji continues as she flips the page and runs her fingers over her wedding photo. 

Tears pool in your eyes as you look at Jungkook. He looks like he’s about to cry, and guilt fills your chest. 

“That man gave me a wonderful life. Beautiful children and cute grandkids. I miss him every day. Stubborn man he was, but there was nothing we couldn’t get through together.” Minji wipes a stray tear before smiling fondly. 

“Anyway,” she sniffles as she sets the album on the coffee table. 

“I wanted to give you two something special to get you started. I know you haven’t been together for too long, but Jungkook looks at you the way his grandfather looked at me and you the way I looked at him. I know it deep in my soul that you two belong together.” Minji smiles warmly as she takes your hand and Jungkook’s. “Be good to each other.”

You wipe a few tears and look at Jungkook. He opens the envelope, and it holds a photo of a home (not an apartment) with the address written on the back and a small gold key. 

You can’t do this. 

Not anymore.

The Jeons have welcomed you with open arms and all you’ve done is lie to them. Guilt washes over you in waves as you force yourself not to cry. This is wrong. 

You hand the envelope back to Minji before rising to your feet. Your heart pounds in your chest, nearly deafening you as you try (and fail) to steel yourself. 

“We lied,” you state, wringing your hands in front of you. 

Jungkook frowns as he hands his envelope back to Minji. Guilt bubbles deep in his belly, and he knows this has gone too far. He should have never gone on with this scheme. Conning his grandmother? He felt terrible. He should have told the truth from the beginning. 

“We aren’t a couple,” Jungkook admits, feeling the confused stares of his family. “We lied to you all.”

Aera and Dae stare at their youngest son and then at you. 

Minji shakes her head.

“I lied,” Jungkook continues as he takes your hand. “She had nothing to do with it. I begged her to help me. I’m so sorry, Grandmother Jeon.”

Seojun stares with furrowed brows as Saraí places her hand on his shoulder. He couldn’t fathom why his little brother would lie.

“I thought Grandmother Jeon would give me an apartment or something if she thought I was seeing someone seriously like Seojun.” Jungkook hangs his head in shame. “The lie kept growing and growing until I was too embarrassed to tell the truth. I never meant to hurt anyone. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not all his fault, Grandmother Jeon,” you said as you squeezed his hand. “I agreed to help. You’ve all been so welcoming, and I didn’t have a place to go for the holidays, and I agreed. We never intended to harm anyone. We’re both so sorry.”

Minji laughs from her seat, surprising Aera and Dae. 

“I know all about your little scheme,” Minji laughs, shaking her head as if this were the most comical thing she has witnessed. “Jimin’s grandmother hits the slot machines with me, and that boy sure loves to open his mouth. I’ve known since I arrived, honey.”

“Jungkook! Why would you lie? You know you could have told us anything!” Aera crosses her arms as she scolds her son. 

“I just felt pressured,” Jungkook admits, and his mother sinks. “I hadn’t dated in a while, and I know you’d like to see me married like Seojun, but it just seemed like this is what everyone wanted from me.”

“Son,” Dae approaches him, hugging him. “We know we can be a little pushy, and I promise you will no longer feel pressured to settle down. We just got excited over Seojun. We wanted you to have the same happiness and partnership he and Saraí do.”

“Your father’s right,” Aera nods as she hugs Jungkook. “Oh, my baby! I’m so sorry for pressuring you! I just worry about you being alone so far away.”

“I’m fine, mom. I’ve got friends, and now I have her.” Jungkook reaches for you once his parents release him from their hugs.

Aera hugs you. “I’m so sorry for all this. We enjoy having you here. You’ve made our son and family so happy with your presence. It’s been a joy getting to know you and seeing how happy you’ve made our Kookie.”

You smile, hugging her tight before Minji hands Jungkook the envelope again. 

“That’s yours to do as you please,” she states as she hands you your envelope.

You open it and gasp when you see two tickets to a resort you’ve wanted to go to. They’re dated for Spring Break.

“I’ve got a place down there that you’re welcome to visit during your vacation, but Jimin’s grandmother and I will be busy partying.”

“Mother!” Dae exclaims in shock. 

“What? I’m old enough to drink! I’ve been old enough to drink.” she shakes her head with a laugh. 

“I can’t accept this.” you try to return it, but Minji won’t take it. 

“No takebacks!” She grins as she rises from the couch, and Luna follows her, yapping at her ankles. 

“Should we go see the Christmas lights?” Seojun suggests as he rises to his feet and helps Saraí. 

The family heads out to join the rest of the neighborhood on a walk. Jimin, Taehyung, Yoongi, Namjoon, Hoseok, and Seokjin join you as you let your families go on ahead without you. 

“How’d it go?” Hoseok asks as he shivers, his ears peeking from his beanie. 

“Yeah,” Seokjin grins. “Did you get the apartment?”

“Did the plan work?” Taehyung questions. 

“Yes,” you say with a wry smile. 

“And no.” Jungkook shakes his head. 

“Huh?” Yoongi furrows his brows. 

“Jimin needs to learn that gossiping with your grandmother can bite you in the butt!” Jungkook hisses as he laces his fingers with yours. 

Jimin pales, turning his head and whistling to appear nonchalant. 

“Yeah, Min!” You agree with a laugh as Jungkook kisses your cheek. 

“I thought she’d forget!” Jimin defends as he gets playfully shoved by his friends. The snow crunches beneath your feet as you continue to walk, the glow of the Christmas lights reflecting on the snow. 

“Oh no,” you giggle. “Jimin’s grandmother told Grandmother Jeon.”

“And she knew the moment she stepped into the house,” Jungkook sighed with a shake of his head. 

“Whoops!” Jimin laughs. 

“So much for ‘Con Jungkook’s Grandma, huh?” Namjoon sighed as a chill ran through him. His scarf fluttered in the light wind as snowflakes fell from the sky. 

“Shut up!” Jungkook laughs as he stops to form a snowball. 

Seokjin laughs, pulling Yoongi with him as they run away from Jungkook. 

Hoseok and Jimin slam into each other in their haste to escape the ricocheting snowball that smacks Namjoon in the chest. 

Namjoon curses, forming a snowball as Taehyung runs away, following Yoongi and Seokjin, begging them to protect him. 

You laugh as you take off, running with Jungkook as Namjoon hurls a snowball in your direction. 

Laughter fills the streets of the neighborhood as more people join the snowball fight while you jog away with Jungkook, holding hands as you hide behind a tree for cover. 

You’re pressed to his chest, peeking to see if you’ve been discovered yet, but being so far away from everyone just means silence surrounds you. 

The evening is quiet as snow continues to fall, and Jungkook wraps his scarf around you to keep you warm. You’re wearing matching coats, hands warm in your gloves as he pulls you closer. 

Everything fades into nothingness as his gaze meets yours. His hand is gentle when he cups your face. His gaze flits to your lips and back to your eyes. 

“You know this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had,” Jungkook whispers. 

“Me too,” you whisper as you hold his gaze.

“There’s only one thing that would make it better,” Jungkook smiles softly.

“And what’s that?” You ask as you bite your bottom lip.

“If you were mine,” Jungkook said with a dimpled smile. “For real this time.”

“I think I can make that happen,” you tease with a coquette smile. “But only with a kiss.”

Chuckling, Jungkook cups your face. “As you wish, baby.”

Jungkook captures your lips with his own, moaning when your fingers thread in his hair. He kisses you deeply as snowflakes coat your hair and his. 

There’s nothing better than kissing Jungkook, your boyfriend. The word makes your heart skip a beat as he deepens the kiss, soft moans escaping the both of you as your lips move in sync. 

Jungkook can’t help but be elated. His heart flutters as he realizes this is your first Christmas together. The first of many. He can see his future in your eyes—a home, a marriage, and children running down these streets covered in snow and Christmas lights. 

There’s nothing more he could ever want.

When he catches your gaze, a bashful smile appears on your lips as you ask, “What?” 

Jungkook shakes his head slightly, “Nothing. Just thinking about next Christmas.” 

“Oh, will I be back?” You ask cheekily as he pulls you closer, the laughter of your friends ringing in the background as they grow closer. 

“Definitely.” Jungkook seals his promise with a kiss just as your friends arrive, hooting as they circle you.

 “Come on, lovebirds,” Namjoon huffs. “Momma Jeon’s got hot chocolate and cookies waiting for us.” 

You laugh as Jungkook takes your hand, smiling as his friends race down the sidewalk to be the first on Momma Jeon’s porch. You smile, imagining all your Christmases like this, with your friends and Jungkook at your side. 

Before you reach his home, Jungkook stops you just beneath the door frame before pointing up. Mistletoe hangs above your head, and you share a smile. Jungkook gently places his hand on your cheek, his thumb caressing it as he whispers, “Merry Christmas.” before he kisses you.

<&lt; part one

© jjungkookislife - I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms, this includes Youtube.

[redrose10]

Yoongi x Female Reader. Arranged Marriage AU.

Warnings: Mentions of alcoholism, slight mention of bullying and abusive relationships

Word Count: 2,306

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Yoongi was in kindergarten the first time he saw you. One of the bullies was making fun of you for having a Barbie lunch box. They took it and threw it down into the mud while laughing and pointing. He saw your lip begin to shake and it broke his heart. He knew what it felt like to feel alone and hurt. He walked up shoving the biggest of the bullies to the ground knowing he would probably get suspended for fighting, but he didn’t care. Silently he picked up the bag and took it to the bathroom where he washed off the mud the best he could. You thanked him with a shy smile and gave him your last sticker before you went on your way. He stared down at the glittery star and he didn’t know it yet, but that was the beginning of his crush on you.

In the sixth grade he went to every one of your basketball games. Your team was named The Shooting Stars, fitting he thought. His friends would tease him about why he wanted to waste his time watching girls play. He would laugh it off and say that he had to be there for volunteer hours or something. His friends weren’t really quite bright enough to question it so they let it go. Secretly he watched you with admiration and cheered every time you scored a basket. After every game he would be waiting by the exit where he would hand you a bottle of water and congratulate you either for the win or for trying your hardest if you lost. You would always get giggly and blush even harder making his stomach fill with butterflies.

In high school he tried to ask you to the senior dance, A Night Under The Stars. He bought the biggest bouquet of roses he could find and wrote a cute little note sticking both of them in your locker. He stood just a few feet away pretending to be busy rearranging his own locker. You pulled the roses out with wide eyes shocked at how beautiful they were. Yoongi was shaking with nerves as he peaked over seeing that you were reading the note.

“Ooohhhh who are those from?”, your best friend asked.

“I don’t know.”, you shrugged, “Theres no name.”

Yoongi felt like he was going to throw up. In his nervousness he forgot to sign his own name. A dumb mistake.

You never did figure out that it was him that placed the roses in your locker. He went to the dance with some girl he can’t even remember because he spent the whole night staring at you.

After high school the two of you went your separate ways. You went to college. He heard from a friend of a friend that you majored in early childhood education and were now a preschool teacher at Little Stars Academy. That suited you.

Yoongi on the other hand was put through the wringer. His parents worked hard to turn him into a successful and feared businessman so that he would be primed and ready to take over the the family company one day.

He didn’t know if it was the cutthroat business world or the fact that he realized he was nothing more than a pawn to his parents, but over time he became cold, hardened, and distant. He didn’t have much of a care for anyone in the world other than himself. He lived and breathed for business and making money. That was it.

Then on his 30th birthday his parents invited him over for a dinner. A small part of him got excited that maybe they actually did care about him as a son and not just an heir that they needed. But instead of balloons or a cake or even simply a card, he was handed a contract by his parent’s lawyer. Yoongi was required to be married by the end of the year or he would forfeit over all of his rights to the company and they would pass it on to his oldest cousin. They were kind enough to include a clause in that contract that he could either find his own bride or marry the woman they had picked, Kim Aera. Yoongi’s head started pounding at the thought of being married to her. She was loud, obnoxious, and pretentious. He would rather be married to a grizzly bear than her.

So after a couple of months and with much pestering from his parents without really thinking he threw out your name. It was the only one he could think of.

To his surprise his parents were okay with it. Of course they only saw the headlines though, “CEO Marries Sweet Preschool Teacher.” It would make people fall in love with him and that meant more money. An even bigger surprise was that you also agreed to it. The two of you hadn’t spoken since high school so he fully expected you to not even remember him.

He had heard from his friend of a friend that you were in a tough spot. Your mom passed away shortly after you graduated. Your dad became an alcoholic and you went no contact. You were struggling financially and stuck in an unhealthy border line abusive relationship. So when Yoongi offered you an out you took it.

Things moved pretty quickly after that. The two of you met for dinner quite often and then to go over things for the wedding a few more times after that. You wanted the colors to be navy and white with hints of gold. It reminded him of the stars in the night sky. Yoongi liked that. You wanted the cake to be a lemon cake with a raspberry filling. Yoongi hated raspberries, but he agreed because the way your face lit up when you tasted the sample made his heart race. You wanted no alcohol thanks to the bad memories it gave you about your father. Yoongi thought that a wedding without alcohol was blasphemy, but agreed and even stood firm when his parents tried to argue. He wanted to be your safe space and your comfort and he was going to make sure that happened.

As the months went on and he spent more and more time with you he could feel his cold heart starting to warm. The two of you would often sit outside on the balcony of his penthouse late at night staring at the sky.

“If you were to wish upon a star right now what would you ask for?”, you would question him.

He would look at you with a raised eyebrow, “I thought that the wish wouldn’t come true if you told someone?”

“That’s for birthday candles. Stars are different.”, you would laugh.

Yoongi would reach for your hand and smile, “I would rather not risk it.”

After you came back into his life he smiled and laughed more. Greeted his employees good morning much to their confusion. He didn’t drown himself in work because he actually looked forward to going home to you and hearing about your day. In a few short weeks he would be getting married, something he never imagined doing. For the first time in a while he was genuinely happy.

But things started taking a turn. He had to work up until the day before the wedding. His company had lost a major bidding war to buy a smaller lesser known although important company. It was not only a financial loss, but also an embarrassment. His parents were livid and taking it all out on him calling him stupid and useless and wishing they had a son to be proud of. On top of that the venue called wanting to know where to store the fifty cases of whiskey and wine his parents had ordered behind his back. The florist called and said there was a shortage on hydrangeas so all of the arrangements would need to be redone and they weren’t sure if they could do it on time. And to top it all off the baker called and cancelled last minute and no matter how many bakeries he called he couldn’t find one able to make the lemon cake with raspberry filling in time for the wedding.

When he finally he got home he was frustrated and angry and hurt. You came to greet him with a nice warm cup of coffee like you usually did, but this time your foot got caught under the rug sending you flying forward. The dark brown liquid spilling all over his favorite suit. That was enough to push him overboard. The old cold, hard Yoongi had returned and he didn’t care who his words hurt. It was like his brain blacked out for a moment.

“Cant you do anything right?!”, he spat, “You are such a waste of space. What benefits do you bring? All you’ve done is mess everything up. I can’t believe that out of all of the people in this world I have to marry someone like you tomorrow.”

Yoongi watched as your lip began to shake just like it did in kindergarten when the bullies threw your lunch box in the mud. Back then he was your rescuer, but right now he was no better than the people that hurt you.

“Y/N…I.”, he tried after realizing what he had said, but you pushed past him and into the bathroom locking the door behind you.

After a sleepless night of tossing and turning he entered the venue fully expecting ti find out that the wedding had been called off. But to his surprise you were there in the back room getting ready. He tried to apologize then, but was whisked away to get his own hair and makeup done loosing the chance.

The ceremony went off without a hitch. The vows were said, a kiss was shared. The entire wedding party took photos and then it was time for the reception. That’s when Yoongi noticed things felt off. You were distant. You stood off to the side trying to keep space between the two of you. Rarely did he ever see you smile or laugh. It killed him inside to know he was the cause of that, but he couldn’t blame you. He was a heartless jerk and said hurtful things to the one person he cared about.

As the night was winding down he saw you head outside to the terrace area and he took his chance to finally get a few minutes alone with you. He found you leaning against the ledge staring down at the city below. You looked gorgeous standing beneath the stars of the night sky.

“If you could wish upon a star right now what would you wish for?”, he asked after walking up next to you.

You remained silent. It hurt, but he knew he deserved that.

He continued on anyways, “I would wish that I could go back to that day in high school and actually write my name on that stupid note I put in your locker.”, he chuckled, “Then maybe we would have gone to the dance together. And then we would’ve gone to college together. I would have proposed to you on Christmas morning while sitting next to the tree watching the lights sparkle. We would’ve had a small ceremony, just our friends. Bought a house in the countryside. Got a dog maybe a cat too. Maybe even a couple kids if you wanted. I would make you breakfast in bed and dessert by the lake. I would have taken you on vacations all over showing you the world and showing the world how lucky I was. Then when we were old and gray I would take care of you until our last breath making sure you were warm and comfy. And then in my last days I would wish to do that all over again with you by my side.”

He looked over at you noticing you gently wiping underneath your eyes.

“I’m sorry Y/N.”, he said, “I’m sorry for a lot of things. I’m especially sorry for how I spoke to you last night. That was uncalled for and I didn’t mean any of it. You are perfect in every way and just by being here you light up the world. In a world full of darkness you’ve always been my bright star Y/N.”

Softly you leaned in and rested your head on his shoulder as you stared out at the sky. Yoongi thought he might have a heart attack.

“You know what I would wish for?”, you finally spoke after a while. He hummed to acknowledge that he was intently listening.

“I would wish to go back to high school. To that day I saw you putting the roses and note into my locker. I would wish that I would have had enough courage to go up to you in person instead of pretending I didn’t know where they came from because I was too scared to say anything since you didn’t leave your name for me to be certain. Then maybe we both would have turned out differently.”, you said wrapping your arms around his neck. He moved his own arms around your waist squeezing you tight.

“I really am sorry.”, he whispered in your ear, “I promise I’ll do better from now on.”

In the back of the limo on the way to the hotel Yoongi had you tightly pulled against his side. His right arm wrapped around your shoulders as you both looked out the window watching as the night sky passed by.

“Yoongi look!”, you gasped, “A shooting star. Make a wish!”

He watched as you closed your eyes wishing for whatever it was that your heart desired. He knew he didn’t have to make a wish of his own. He already had everything he could ever want and ever need. But he did it anyways. He closed his eyes and thought of his wish.

“What did you wish for?”, you questioned once you opened your eyes.

“I can’t tell you.”, Yoongi smirked, “If I do it won’t come true and I’m not taking any chances.”

[aeralux]

anybody that has an issue with your writing has to go through ME i will rip off their heads and light them on fire <3 everyone be nice to aera or ELSE

AAHHHH I literally love you <3

(If you do not agree with the warnings do not read maybe?)

love you pookie

[seventeensmaus]

you // a mingyu smau

synopsis: yn is best friends with mingyu’s twin sister aera. she’s never met him until one day they plan a camping trip with their friends and mingyu comes along…

genre: smau, comedy, fluff, angst

warnings: language, inappropriate talk

pairings: mingyu x female! reader

start date: July 9, 2024

end date: ???

masterlist:

info

yn + friends

mingyu + friends

vacation

they’re in a fight

pretty princess

don’t worry about it

i hate it here

lost keys

safe flight

cute mad face

aera?

hot

thanks dummy

ice cream

gentleman

marriage contract

made it

free day

movie night

wakey wakey

walk

might what?

forgotten

meeting📱✏️

sad roommate

road trip

the question

date night

ignoring me

stop calling me

finally

long hair

NYC

rainy day

advice

home

my dummy

i love you

you - epilogue

the end!!!

This is a continuation of back to you. You don’t have to read it, but it might help you understand the characters more if you do. ⬇️

back to you // a wonwoo smau

❣️Taglist Open❣️

taglist: @junlver @withloveyjh @gaslysainz @euphoric-univers @sikuthealien @map0fthes0ul7 @meowmeowminnie @tress-leches @snwvee @samsemsame @peraltasvibe @felixmainacc @ateez-atiny380 @grcvalo @aerasdore @yeoberryx

🏷️ permanent taglist: @onlyhyunjin @hawshiiiii @sarabencze @dinossaurz @soffiyuhh @melovehao @on-tracks-and-playlists @jihoonsbbygirl @va1entinaa

[choism]

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» ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ : ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʙʟᴏᴄᴋ ᴍʏ ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ, ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜰʟᴀɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ꜰᴇᴇᴅʙᴀᴄᴋ ɪꜱ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛʟʏ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ.

You walk through the door after the long day of work, you sigh loudly as you set yourself down on the couch. You don't see your boyfriend anywhere in the living room so you decide to make your way up to the room. As your steps get closer to the door, you hear low whimpers and whines, which sounded way too familiar for you, coming from your shared room. Your hands do not hesitate in holding on to the door knob and twisting it.

The door opens to reveal a very sweaty San, his figure half-naked and only in grey sweats rutting against a pillow… your pillow certainly. His crotch rubs against the soft material, desperate and in need of a relief as his hips move faster. His whines fill the room and his hands desperately clutch onto the pillow, his lips letting out low 'Mommy' and little 'please's. You could feel yourself getting wet at the sight, your hands grip onto the door knob tighter. Your eyes moved down to his ass, which looked so plump in those sweats, the need to put your hands on them, grip and spank them made you feel breathless.

You walk into the room slowly as you try not to make any noise, you slowly close the door from behind before approaching the whimpering boy. Your hands slowly yet caressingly move to his thin waist, damn did he have such a slutty waist. Your hand grips harder onto his waist but the whining boy is still too high on pleasure to notice your presence. «"Mommy, I miss you so bad I've started to feel your hands on me, s-so h-hard, w-wanna cum so bad."» San whines loudly, his voice sounding hooded as his hips continue to thrust over the pillow.

You finally decide to take the matters into your own hands as you place your hands on his hips to stop them from moving, «"Shh, Mommy's here baby boy, wasn't such a pleasant surprise to see you having fun without me though."» His pants are loud, and his eyes look back to find your cold but soft features looking down at him. «"I-I'm sorry M-Mommy, was horny and wanted to cum.."» He pouts looking down, trying hard to make you forget about giving him a punishment for disobeying.

«"Did you cum?"» You ask firmly, making his head snap back at you, «"W-What?"» He asks nervously, looking at you with confused eyes. «"Did you cum?"» San decides to just shake his head at your question, not quite trusting his vocal chords into not making him whiney. «"Well you certainly aren't getting away with the consequences, but why don't you put on a show for me slut? Maybe I'll think about it."» You say as you sit back and lean against the beadboard leaving a dumbfounded San on his knees in the middle of the bed.

«"What? Get started with it, don't make me repeat my words."» He is instantly snapped out of his thoughts and he scrambles to get his legs around the pillow again. But this time tho, his hands move down to slip into his sweats only to stop mid-way at your words. «"Ah Ah baby boy, you don't get to touch what's yours. I want to see you grind on that pillow and cum only by that."» You command as a smirk makes its way onto your lips.

San whimpers at the thought, and his hips automatically move against the pillow, his bulge rutting against it. His little moans escape him and he grips onto it desperately, having been edged from his orgasm before, it's no wonder his cock twitches in his pants. You smirk at his state when you notice little tears in the corner of his eyes, his breaths are intense as he gasps for air. «"M-Mommy- f-feels- s-so g-good, w-want you to touch me p-please"» Your eyes watch his movements intently, you could feel yourself getting wetter from the show he was putting on for you.

«"Not yet baby boy, mommy is not quite satisfied with whatever you're doing."» Your words make his whines get louder as his hips rut against the pillow faster, desperate to get a release. His cock twitches from the pleasure, and before he knows it, ropes of cum is shot into his boxers while his hips slow down due to the intense reach.

He whimpers loudly when he is pushed on to the bed out of nowhere, and you mount onto his thighs. Your hands caress his bulged biceps, and you trace your fingers down to his chest. Your eyes look at his, before trailing down to his red plumpy lips. You aren't able to control yourself as you let your own lips smash against his. San's little moans in between the kisses, and loud kissing noises resonate against the walls. Your hands trails down to his waist, caressing it with oh so much intensity while your lips trails down to his neck. Your tongue darts down to lick his soft spot before your teeth bite over it harshly.

«"Moan for me, beg me for pleasure, little boy."» You whisper into his ear as your hands continue to caress his waist slowly, he lets out a long cry while mumbling «"Mommy, w-want y-ou to use me, p-please, w-want your p-pussy, m-mommy"» Your lips curl up in a smirk against the soft skin if his neck, and your hand raises up to his nipples to give them a harsh pinch. «"Such a good boy for me"» You say as he whines loudly, «"want mommy to make you cum don't you?"» You ask him in a teasing tone before slipping your hands down to his shorts.

He nods, burying his face into the crook of your neck, «"p-please m-mommy"» His pleas are muffled but desperate enough to make you wrap your fingers around his long cock. «"So fucking hard for me already, want to cum so badly don't you?"» Your thumb drapes over the tips of his cock, caressing him, «"y-yes mommy, please, j-just w-want to c-cum p-please"» «"Say no more, my little slut."» You say before letting your fingers move back and forth around his hard cock, which instantly twitches at the sudden pleasure. «"F-Fuck m-mommy, 'm sensitive"» You smirk at his words before increasing your pace around his length intentionally, making him moan loudly. His vocal chords contract as he moans loudly into your neck while your hands jerk him off.

«"M-mommy- g-gonna c-cum, s-soon"» Just as those words escape his mouth, your fingers move down to flick at his balls making him flinch and ropes of cum to shoot down his pants. He is quivering in his place and his thighs shake intensely as adorable mewls fall off his mouth. You pull him into your lap by gripping his waist, and in a few seconds, your hands rip away his boxers, stripping him naked. «"I hope you're not too sensitive babyboy, mommy needs to have her turn."»

[kaszuma]

Aera Perennius | Hoshina Soshiro

Part 7 of “Certainly Yours”

pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x fem!reader

summary: soshiro was never one to raise his voice at anyone. But the one time he did, it was because he almost lost you for good.

warnings: Slight Kn8 Manga Spoilers, Description of Pain / Injuries / Hospitalizations, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Arguments, Cursing, Slight mention of self-harm

wc: 9,793

–

note: I finiahed it earlier than anticipated so here you go-- I had such a difficult time writing this because I've been so busy. There were so many changes and the original draft had been scrapped so many times that it almost made me want to give up and start over. But lucky I didn't or I would've not updated in time. So, yay!

English is hard haha and sometimes it hates me and just doesn't make sense when I read it in my mind versus when I read it outloud. Anyways I will be doing slower updates, so no definitive dates nor titles for the next parts yet. But Part 8 and 9 will be back-to-back spicy NSFW stuff (courtesy of reaching 200 Followers. Thank you lots by the way), So stay tuned!! This is not proofread. So if I missed any warnings feel free to tell me. 🫶

–

Sleep had come naturally to you.

The sound of rapid footsteps and muffled yelling had all but faded into the distance as mere whispers against your ears.

Such rapidness did not seem to fit the silence of what had initially surrounded you. The sudden weight of your own body being dragged left and right until your vision blurs. The stark darkness of city skylines transformed into the unnatural shine of the hospital's fluorescent lights; one that made it hard to pick people's silhouettes apart.

And as such, it reminds you of the distant past.

One that was filled with vast open fields, very unlike the corporate labs you had been accustomed with. A stark contrast to the very corners of Japan, in the countryside where your grandparents had established a simple life for themselves. Filled to the brim with rice crops and summer cicadas.

And it makes you reminisce about the short time you'd spend there. On the cool nights after your summer school days would inevitably end. And you'd be dragged to a summer house where cousins and relatives had doted on you.

Such a homeward bound place was a far cry to the bustling streets of Tokyo's Eastern divisions. Which had often been endowed with the familiar cries of loud music and the steady rumbles of heavy railways underneath you.

One that Kaiju had lamented no peace from.

Even in the midst of high-story buildings where your workplace had boasted the use of sound proof walls. The cityscapes nearest Izumo Tech Corporation could not even be muzzled by its titanium doors, of which Japan's Top Secret Bioweapons had been kept. Schematics and all.

You had grown used to such a taciturn work environment.

Your existence is thrown into the small bubble of your private lab. Segregated from your coworker who valued work over social relations. And you had been much the same.

You and the rest of the technicians were far too focused on your projects. Tinkering away at the prototype suits that the company had sent your way. A partnership between your parent company and Japan’s Defense Force. A task of which you and a few others had been selected to create and maintain.

And how lucky you had been, to land yourself a snug spot in the notoriety of the Third Division's wake. The very same division that had boasted the least amount of casualties in the case of a large-scale Kaiju attack.

The very same division where Mina Ashiro had led and mounted into victory.

And you'd consider yourself lucky to have known such an amazing person in this lifetime.

For fate to have led her to you, you'd assume you've somehow accumulated some sort of good karma in your past life. The reward to you had been fresh in this new one. An action that had garnered some godly being to bestow upon you a chance to meet your soulmate.

You'd be remiss with disappointment if you hadn't met Soshiro Hoshina in this lifetime.

But prior to that. Before Ashiro had recruited you into her division, you had little to no contact with the officers on-field. Delegated to the simple task of sending blueprints in and out of Tachikawa's base should the time arise; begrudgingly in the early mornings of every month too.

Back then, you had befriended a bespectacled girl named Okonogi. Who wore a slightly bigger uniform than the rest of the recruits. A quirk of hers which you found rather amusing. She, who wholeheartedly believed she might still grow into the uniform that was two sizes too bigger than what was recommended of her.

And you had remembered the day you had met her too.

It was another typical day in your routine. Delivering notes to Captain Ashiro in and out of bases. Though this time, you had decided upon taking a detour. Seeing the empty spaces of the mess hall which granted you an opportune moment of grabbing some coffee.

And such a detour had led you upon the bespectacled girl. Your documents slipping from your very fingertips. And your other hand, which held the coffee mind you. Accidentally toppling over. Spilling the liquid against her pristine ivory lab coat. Staining it.

Lucky it had not been hot, or else that could've been an accident in the making.

“I am… so sorry about that.” Your eye catches the glimpse of her nametag, stained with a bit of caffeine. Okonogi was what it read. And you were already pulling out a handkerchief from your pocket. Intent on correcting the mistake you made.

“No, it's okay. Really.”

The sincerity in her voice made you visibly flinch. And you had half a mind to just shove her your wallet, a chance given to compensate her for the coat you ruined. But the look on her eyes was determined. Abrupt in the way she had declined you.

“Are you sure? Money shouldn't be a problem. I can definitely get you a better coat within the day..” You spoke with much guilt. And yet she insisted.

“No need, really! It's just a stain. Nothing a bit of bleach can't handle.” She moves lower with a smile, one hand tucked behind her knees as she tries to pick up the few folders scattered on the ground.

“-Lucky it didn't hit the documents! Or the Director would definitely have our heads for it.” Okonogi had surprisingly jested your way. And a small laugh bubbles between the two of you in turn. As if you had known each other for quite some time now.

“I suppose so.” You had spoken between giggles. The sentiment shared between the two had all but eased the tension of the room.

And the brunette had gingerly handed you the pile of documents that had been untarnished. Though, one in particular catches her trained eye.

It was a simple list of materials used for the next batch of combat suits to-be-made. Or at least, that was the pitch you had planned to present today. In the hopes that Mina Ashiro would give it enough attention and send it to command for a much more direct approval.

And Okonogi, who was a newbie at the time. Had known all too well of the budding genius you had been. A technician far too enraptured in improving Combat Suits and weapons catering for strange combat. One that did not conform to the normalcy of firearms which had modernized the era.

And it seems one of your papers in particular had caught her attention. Like a hammer against glass.

It was a series of notes and drawings involving bronze wires that resembled the muscle groups of a Kaiju's inner workings. All built into the combat suit that had been Izumo Tech's symbolic masterpiece.

And its Kaiju plating was as amazing as it was unconventional. Built to last no doubt in the wake of an ever evolving organization.

Okonogi could not help but stare at it. Admiring the artistry and engineering involved in such a concept.

“An idea of yours?” She asks. And you nod in turn. Surprised by the way she did not immediately question the schematics.

Normally you'd be met with strange looks. One that questioned the very ethics of your research for involving Kaiju parts into the combat suits.

But the Defense Force had long since been converting strong Kaiju into weaponry. And applying the same sentiments to a combat suit, should be no different. “That's right.”

“I was hoping to improve the current designs of the Combat Suits.” You admitted. “If it succeeds, it might help our soldiers a lot more. Survivability wise..I mean.”

And Okonogi smiles at this. A layer of irony mixed in with the few laughs that bubbled within her chest.

She knew how fragile lives can be. Especially in their line of work where they had faced massive enemies almost on a daily basis. And a battle of attrition against such monsters? It was never a pretty picture.

But still, it had been a rare sight to see one so dedicated with quality of life improvements. And it was as if Okonogi knew that she'd be able to trust you with such a task.

“Glad to see you working on it! People have been volunteering less and less these days. But if we had better tech, I'm sure our members would increase by a large margin.”

Her assurance made you nod. Already taking the paper from her hands and delicately sliding it back to the rest of the folders you held. Carefully standing as the both of you had come to smile at each other.

“If there's a chance it can save lives. There's no harm in trying. It's just a part of the job.”

“There's definitely a truth in that.” Okonogi remained positive with a dip to her head. Making her rimmed glasses slide gently from the bridge of her nose. A tilt in her head as she next spoke.

“-But, why use bronze by the way? Wouldn't steel or alloy be a better alternative?”

You had looked over to the notes peeking from your file. And a smile is etched on the very corner of your lips. Complacent in the way you had so easily looked at her, as if you knew something she did not.

“There's a saying you see.”

Okonogi tilts her head upward. Who had finally moved to fixate her gaze to you. Eyes meeting with the absolute tenacity and confidence at your craft. “...a saying?”

You nod. “They say that some people should seek things that are more lasting than bronze.”

“Does bronze not last very long?”

“Oh it does. But even in metals, people try to find something much better right?” Okonogi who had paused to think about your words. Had only nodded in turn. Your sentiment was a much more refreshing and positive take than she had imagined it to be.

“I intend to find that material. One that would make a monument more lasting than the lives we lost.”

And Okonogi’s breath hitches. And you had looked her in the eye, with a determination she was sure would last you a lifetime. “Even if that means I have to dissect a Kaiju and use its very skin as armor.”

A bit morbid for her take. But still, she couldn't help but admire your tenacity. It was the same sentiment she'd see with the soldiers. And somehow, it reminds her of a certain someone who was all smiles despite wielding a blade.

“I suppose most Kaiju do have a layer of tough skin..” She jested. And your shoulders shake with a bubbling smile. The start of a silly friendship perhaps, where Soshiro's eyes would soon flicker your way.

And somehow things just started to click into place.

You didn't know if it was fate. Had it been Okonogi or Mina Ashiro that led you to him. But it wasn't until a few weeks later, you had found yourself responsible for the Third's technical division. Overseeing much of the repairs and weapon upgrades needed for Kaiju slaying. And it was in that very same division where you had grown much closer to him.

A strange recruit, scouted from the Kansai district. Where Captain Ashiro had particularly shown a keen interest in. His skill in the blade had been incomparable to his peers. And although he boasted the highest individual body-count when it came to handling melee pursuits. You had once thought him stupid for sticking to a fighting technique that had long since aged from the existence of firearms.

But how wrong you had been in judging him for that.

Okonogi often reminded you not to be too harsh on him whenever the two of you had just so happened to meet. Jesting that you two would've made a stellar couple, had you both given each other a chance. And although you've denied such things a few times before, Soshiro would always take a glance at you as if reading the expressions on your face. Thoroughly investigating the subtle expressions you wore that would've reached his conclusion.

And each time after that, he too would answer for you. A denial. A white lie.

And Okonogi always saw through it of course. She had been there since the beginning. Serving cupid for the both of you.

And when she can, she had always been peppy in her step. Pushing the both of you in a particular direction. Waiting for one of you to make a move. Calculated like masters playing chess on a board. By far you two had been hopeless. If it wasn’t for Okonogi’s encouragement, Soshiro wouldn’t have thought to visit you between breaks. And how lucky you had been to have the girl pry him out of his skittish shell.

It’s a wonder you two had gotten together like this.

You had rarely seen the girl frown or be frustrated over anything. Let alone your own bite when it comes to Soshiro's mixed signals.

So it had been a sudden whiplash, seeing her so frightened above you. Her voice had been unusually drawled and shaky as she repeated your name. Trying to keep you awake despite the far off look you had in the depths of your irises.

Wait.

Why was it so blurry all of a sudden?

Where were you again?

Right.

You were injured. And from the look on her face, it was probably worse than you had realized. The trickle of an unfamiliar liquid slid down your forehead to the very height of your cheek. Where you could’ve sworn a clawed hand had been there to comfort you.

Larger than your own, and definitely plated with armor. Gently grazing the very skin of your cheek.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

It's starting to hurt. The pain on your lower back had suddenly hit you like a metric ton of weighted bricks. Like something jagged and sharp had punctured through you. A result from a bad fall.

“Sweetheart. Keep yer’ eyes open alright?”

You heard a deep rumble from the side. And your eyes pried away from Okonogi's disturbed features. Suddenly enamored by the wine red irises that looked at you as if you had gone through hell and back.

Had it really been that bad?

Last you checked, you were narrowly able to escape Kaiju's attacks. The flashes of its flaky features had encompassed your mind’s eye. And the ground below you had bellowed like a monster’s mouth. Suddenly ripping open as a shockwave had violently lifted you from your feet.

And like a leaf on a windy day, you were blown to the side. Crashing harshly against the window of a boutique. A stray shard puncturing your lower back to the point of near paralysis. And it leaves you barely conscious to see the not so lucky victims that tried to escape the Kaiju.

One group in particular had been crushed by the rubble of a building. And somehow the scent of blood and bones was enough to knock you out cold. Their downfall would’ve made you vomit, had you not been injured and too dizzy to think about it all.

And as morbid as it sounded, you had been fortunate enough to have only been thrown aside. Sacked into a world of pain which had reminded you that you were very much alive. It had been a miracle that Soshiro found you when he did. Despite the slight sprain on his ankle and the sores he felt in the muscles of his arms. He forced himself to run. Empowered to meet with you, ushered by the help of Number 10’s powers.

And like clockwork he was led straight to you. The fears he had once buried deep in the back of his brain had all came flooding through.

And he didn’t know what to do.

…

You heard a few voices then.

Although it was barely comprehensible, you could make out a few distinct ones from the array of shouts. Your name in particular was whispered in a prayer. Begging you not to fall asleep despite the odd temptation to. And sure enough, the back and forth argument you heard between two figures was enough to keep your mind and heart racing with urgency. The look between Okonogi and Soshiro’s face had all been so different than usual that it frightens you so.

But despite the noise, despite the shouting. You heard him in clear daylight. Like it had been the only voice in the room. Isolated from the rest who had rushed in a frenzy.

“I got ya’ alright? I’m here baby. I’m right here.”

His reassurances had blanked when his voice cracked. Desperate like he had been ready to cry. The way your name had escaped his lips was almost hesitant. As if he didn't deserve to call you out. And you wanted to stop him before his thoughts could drift further. But your voice had failed you when you needed it most. A soft cry escaping your lips instead.

I'm okay.

I'm here.

I'm alive.

All of that died the moment it tried to leave your throat. And without those very words. Soshiro's face was left to contort. As if he were the one in pain instead of you. And how he'd wished that were the case.

“Let me through!”

You heard him scream. And your eyes had focused just enough to see Okonogi and a few nurses blocking his pathway to you. Desperately trying to push past them despite the grievances.

The sight had been a blur.

One second your vision was fine. The next you had felt the telltale signs of drowsiness hit you. And you feel the way the pain medication had started to kick in when your eyes had isolated itself from the world. Your body’s exhaustion hits you squarely on the chest down to your very toes. And when you had been dragged to the next room over. Soshiro had been the last face you had seen before separation. Sleep pulling you over until your breath is taken from you in that instance.

Your name had been the only thing Soshiro could say afterwards.

“I said let me through–That's an order from your Superior Officer, Okonogi.” Soshiro had warned her. Voice uncharacteristically deep when issuing an order. It was normally never used in this way. Such a tone was only ever used to command Number 10 when he had been too stubborn to listen.

But the bespectacled girl knew better than to fan the flame. And in retrospect, she out of anyone would understand his frustrations the most. Yet she stood her ground. Gently shaking her head at her heated friend.

“Vice Captain.” Okonogi started. Hands already raised to try and calm him down. And she could see it in his eyes; the way it subconsciously followed the rolling bed they had put you in.

Dragging your bed into another room where only the best medical practitioners had worked on you. And yet despite that, he couldn't find it in himself to sit still. His gut sinking at the mere thought of you getting worse than when he had already found you in. And he was willing to bet Weapons 10 had all but read the blatant emotions he displayed on his sleeve. With or without having to delve into his mind.

He was in utter ruin just from your condition.

“-Please understand. You cannot, in under any circumstances enter the surgery room, sir.”

“To hell with that!”

The scream had made Okonogi frown. And Soshiro had half a mind to push past the smaller woman. And rush forward with Number 10's help. But he stopped midway. Reminding himself that his suit could go on a rampage at any time. And right now, he did not want to expose Okonogi and a handful of civilians to Number 10's war-ridden desires. His deep baritones had instead vanished for more firm ones. Unlike the resentment from prior. Oddly curt in his delivery.

“Move. Or I’ll do somethin’ drastic.” He steps forward.

A threat is a threat, and he hoped that would at least be enough to convince the bespectacled girl to move. Yet Okonogi had known him for far too long to actually perceive it as one. And she looks unfazed by his words.

“Sir please.” She pleaded. “It'll only worry you more.”

Her voice was gentle. Understanding even. It almost reminded him of the way you speak at times. Stern but with a hint of softness when it came to his stubbornness. And how he wished it was you he was talking to right now.

“Just please try to calm down. We should get your own wounds treated first and then we can-”

“Fuck no. I'm going in there and-”

“Hoshina.” The stern voice of their Captain had made them both flinch. And the heavy cleats of Mina Ashiro'a footsteps had gotten louder as she had made her way closer to the two.

“Captain Ashiro.” Soshiro had spoken with a much more leveled tone than he did earlier. Hand raising into a salute as the rest followed suit. Though even in his greeting, his frustrations had still been made entirely clear. And he was more than willing to face insubordination just to get to you. But Mina was one step ahead of him.

“Hoshina. You’re causing a disturbance and deliberately disrupting the medical wing from doing their job--I'd let you run some laps. But I can see you're injured.”

Soshiro had glanced down at his body, a light scoff emerging from his lips when she had noticed the way he stood, limping.

“Patch your own wounds up and we can discuss it later.”

And Soshiro had frowned at the way she immediately knew. A sixth sense perhaps that he had been getting sloppy. And sometimes he feared Mina Ashiro would kick him out of the Third because of it. But Mina made no such accusation, instead her eyes had been understanding.

Firm as they usually are, she, like Okonogi, was quite aware of your relationship with Soshiro. And by all means, she understood his sentiment.

Today had been a jumbled mess. And Soshiro was practically facing the very brunt of it all.

With you as its victim.

“But-”

“That's an order, Vice Captain. Do not make me repeat myself.” Her stern reply had been met with his half-meant glare. Red irises swirling with thoughts before ultimately concluding that Mina had been right. Okonogi too. He'd just been too stubborn to see it.

And for a good few seconds, he finally drops his own staring.

Reluctant as he had finally turned around. Facing Okonogi with a sort of defeated look in his eyes. Uncharacteristic to her as he'd normally be so cheery, even in the face of impending death.

He'd be thrown into a pit. And as long as he was still kickin’ he'd probably end up smiling and joking about it the next day.

This had definitely been a first for the two to witness.

And although Mina had not usually been the closest to Soshiro. He couldn't help but make an exception this time. She'd waive him of running laps, not as an officer. But as her friend. And a stern hand was placed squarely on his shoulder. Gently giving it a pat of reassurance. One that Okonogi would follow up with her own.

“It'll be okay. Right Captain?” Okonogi glanced between the two.

“That's right. I'll see to it personally that she gets the best care. For now, get yourself patched up–That'll be the punishment you get for speaking to your superior officer.” She awkwardly spoke. Though a small reassuring smile had cracked on the face of her usually hardened expressions.

And such a sentiment from both the girls had silenced him before he could think of another protest to answer with.

“understood.” He begrudgingly spoke. His hand balling into tight fists at the possibility that you'd wake up without him by your side.

Bronze was made to last, yet it wasn't exempt from tarnish after all.

“Good. I'll inform you shortly once her treatment is done–Okonogi.”

“Yes?” Her reply had been immediate.

“Make sure his wounds are treated. And, I expect a detailed report on Number 10's latest excursion later.”

“Roger.” Okonogi had saluted. And Soshiro watched her as she slowly walked past them. Entering the very same room where he had not even had the chance to take a glimpse in.

His arms had gently felt the pull to another direction. Okonogi had done well at Mina's request as he had all but dragged his feet further away from the blaring red lights of the operating room.

And the flicker of your sleeping face was all that’s left before he too was separated somewhere else.

A place where he was left to wonder what will become of you. And for a moment, his distinct thought was a scenario where he hadn't met you.

If only he hadn't asked you out that day..things would've turned differently.

Right?

…

Your eyes blew wide open. The strangled breaths you took were caught on your throat as you could smell the bitter antiseptics nip the back of your nostrils. It reminded you of a hospital. That of which you had the unpleasant experience of having to frequent anytime Soshiro would come back to base injured.

Often you'd be on the other side of his bed. A frown on your face as the condition of his health had been on the top of your mind. And each time with a smile, he'd make a joke to ease the tension in the room. A signal to indicate he had been alright. Despite the lack of words you two would exchange.

Habitually it was you unharmed. You left to worry at his bedside.

So it had been a rare sight indeed, to find yourself on the opposite side of the spectrum.

Laid in thin hospital robes. Connected to a needle of an IV drip. The constant flow of medicine made you drowsy and your thoughts jumbled into a mesa of numbness. And if you had looked at the amount of bandages wrapped around your torso you'd surely start squirming in place.

But just when you were about to scrutinize the heavy onset of your heartrate’s monitor. The blaring sound was all but silenced when you heard the familiar tremors of his voice. Smooth and soft, like you had always heard them as.

“Yer’ finally awake.”

You turned to his direction. Bright eyes had met his own which had been as familiar as it was squinted. His irises were more crystalline and tired than usual. Puffy on the corners, like he hadn't been given a chance to get a good night’s sleep between your hospitalization.

And yet, despite the unfamiliarity of his somber tone; the despondent frowns he'd make.

His voice had been the sound you missed the most.

“Soshiro..” You croak out. Voice dry like someone had stuffed cotton down your throat. And you try your best to scoot closer. To move and stand like you had always done when faced towards him. But this greeting would cut short. Hands restrained by firm bandages and hollow tubes that weighed heavily on your skin. And you hadn't realized the mumble of a barely audible whimper from your mouth. One that Soshiro could not miss even if he tried to.

Soshiro noticed the way you had squirmed. Struggling to sit up. Which made him all the more vigilant. And he ends up closing the small leatherbound book he'd always brought with him. Sinking it back on his pocket where you had been accustomed to seeing it.

Walking much closer to you in an attempt to calm and shush you.

“Where are we?” You asked him. And his fingers hesitantly graze your cheek. The same way when you had blood trickling down it moments prior. “Base. The Medical wing took ya’ in.”

His words were oddly curt in delivery. And although the average person who knew Soshiro on a surface level could probably not tell. You were able to differentiate the distinct way his voice had sounded odd. Such sentiments laid rather clearly for you. And you can see the layer of guilt etched on his stiff face.

“Okonogi?” You inquired. And he gives you a nod.

“Safe. I'll call her for ya’ later so she doesn't worry.” and you let out a breathless sigh. Your head slumping against the cushion of the soft pillow. The lingering feeling of glass and cement on you had all been but a pipe dream now. A memory that you'd soon forget.

And how Soshiro wished it was that easy for him to forget.

“How are you feelin? I can call the nurse for ya if anything hurts.” He moves to turn around.

Eyes already searching for the small caller that was given to him in case of emergencies. Though your hand, as painful as it felt, had pulled him in. Weak fingertips grabbing the sleeves of his jacket to refuse him. Your eyes remained squinted as they were sharp despite the fatigue. And you caught the glimpse of bandages wrapped around his skin. A stark testament to the rest of his unblemished face.

“What happened?” You had immediately tried to get up. Alert in the way you had wanted to reach out and inspect his own injuries. But the fatigue of your body had stopped you. Causing you to slump forward and unto his willing arms who had been cautious in the way he handled you.

“Easy. You're still…not well.” Soshiro gently nudged you back down. Hand placed squarely on your chest to ease you into the pillow. But you stubbornly persisted. Compromising by sitting up against the bed's headboard instead.

“That doesn't matter. What's more important is, what happened to you. Are you alright?”

“That doesn't matter? Are you seriously askin’ me that right now?” For a moment you mistake his scoff for a laugh. His hands which had held you firmly had just as quickly left leaving the spot on your skin cold and yearning for his proximity.

Had you said something wrong? This aggression was unlike him.

Soshiro was rarely this agitated. And your voice couldn't help shrivel in meek irritation. Unsure whether you should respond back with much the same turbulence.

“Should I…not be asking you that?” You spoke unsure. And he shakes his head in turn.

“You were dead-still for five days straight and yer tellin’ me THAT doesn't matter right now?”

You didn't know how else to reply. The way his tone had shifted into a scoff had made you double back to glare at his face. For once since you awoke, you truly saw how tense he had been. Gone was his usual suave smile that made you laugh or cry in between meetings.

He had been too worried to focus on that. But you had been too frustrated at this sudden change. That it made your voice come more forcefully than you anticipated. “Well isn't it obvious? I'm worried about you.”

You replied. Your own expression had squished into rapid vexation. And you see the way he takes a few steps back, too far for your touch to reach. And it pained you that you couldn't just stand up and make him face you like you usually could.

“And you think I don't feel the same!?” He spoke loudly. Causing your shoulders to flinch in turn. One he had regretted as soon as he spoke. And yet, he continued.

“You don't think..that I didn't nearly kill myself when I found you bleeding in the middle of that goddamn street?” He pointed out the window.

And your expression had turned liquid at the images that flash in your mind. Imagining how he had found you. His thoughts, his expressions..you could only imagine the torment he felt the moment he found you. Barely breathing.

His breaths came in gasps. Eyes widened so that you can clearly see the crimson of his eyes peeking through. And suddenly you notice the way Soshiro had oddly been so vulnerable in front of you. The quips on your sore throat began to die down when you saw how frustrated–how fearful he had looked in the moment. And gods did you wish you woke up sooner just to comfort him.

“No–that’s not what I meant. I only wanted to know if you were okay. Is it so wrong to ask?”

“Well maybe ya’ shouldn't have asked at all.” He huffed out. Looking away from you with regret lingering on his features.

It was stupid. He thought To get so frustrated over something so tiny. But as much as Soshiro Hoshina excluded the guise of a proper adult. He had been flawed just like the rest of everyone else. And he'd be lying if he didn't have his moments of doubt. Often scrutinizing in the lonely privacy of his home. Where he knew no one would bother him.

That is of course, before you had entered his life.

But not everything was understood between the two of you. Okonogi was a witness to the piles of misunderstandings you both had caused. And without help you two were likely never to get along, habitually falling for the same skittish routine you had played at.

But a miracle happened. With him belonging to you. And you belonging to him.

So why was it that your heart cramped so much? Surely it was not the pains of a physical injury. Let alone a type of sickness.

Instead it was struck by simple bad habits and insecurities. One of which even you had trouble dealing with. And the loud firmness of his voice had made such an impact on your heart that you began to frown. Unable to hold back your bite.

“What is your problem!?” You started. “Listen, can we just please have this conversation some other time. And then we can-”

“And then we can, what? Do you want me to just sit here and forget that all happened?” He had interjected.

And suddenly you feel your brows knit tightly. Eyes feeling heavy from the burst of a headache you had gotten. Of all the times Soshiro wanted to argue, it's the time you had just woken up.

But he wasn't entirely unjustified.

There have been plenty of moments where you had fanned the flames of a fire that should've ended right then and there. Your word choice is poor and your temperament less than ideal.

For as frustrated as you had been, you understood Soshiro's sentiments. And your hands had raised as a sort of white flag. Not needing this fight to escalate more than it should.

Not when you were both injured and all you wanted to do was crawl into his arms.

“-Listen Soshiro, I didn't mean to upset you. I only wanted to know if you were okay.”

“Does that matter?” He repeats your own words. And you had to hold back another jab of acknowledgement. Smart in the way he played his words. It almost made you want to laugh. But this time, your intent came from sincerity.

And his small play of mockery had been a sight for sore eyes, since you had quickly gotten the gist of what he had been trying to convey. Wrong in your choice of words. This time, you correct your mistake. Sincerity and all.

“Yes it matters. More than anything– of course it matters.” You had told him. And you see the way Soshiro’s mouth quivers into a small tremble. Uncanny when he'd normally be so laid-back and sweet when it came to you.

And how you'd wish he just took a breather and relaxed. Maybe take a break so that they could talk things out. Without yelling preferably. But that had not been possible. At least not just yet from the way he replied.

“Well had I not made it in time, you woulda’ been dead. Do you hear me?”

“And yet, Here. I. Am. A witness to your unwarranted behavior.”

“Behavior that's justified because I shouldn't have let you outta my sight.”

Silence had followed soon after. Your mouth gapes for a moment to think of a reply when the words slip past your lips. And Soshiro would note how uncharacteristic that was, even for you. He, who was always used to your quick replies and clever jabs. But it seems his words had cut too far this time.

And he pried his eyes away from you. Chest heaving as he ran a hand through his face. “I shouldn't have..”

He composed himself. Clearing his throat whilst you looked at him with an etched frown on your face. One that he wished would go away. But he had been the cause of this.

He had been the one to make your smile go away. And it somehow makes him feel even worse.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. I just-”

“Soshiro.” Your voice sounded like bells. And when he looked up, relief had immediately sagged his shoulders upon seeing your gaze blown wide open. Not at all restrained by the pain medication and exhaustion you had felt.

And your hand had gently reached up to grab his own. Gentle in the way her thumb caressed his knuckle which had been previously so bruised and bloodied.

And although there was a struggle to reach for his hand. Your touch was met halfway. Gently threading your much softer skin that would've paled in comparison to a blanket had he not taken glances.

“What happened back there wasn't your fault. We couldn't have known that the Kaiju would follow me back to the shelter.” You whisper. And Soshiro's expression had turned serious. Like he held a weight that you couldn't possibly fathom even if you tried.

“And yet I let it slip away.”

“I let it get to you, and now you're in here because of me.” He had wanted to so badly pull away from you. To walk himself out before he could be tempted to lean back into those pretty eyes of yours. But the moment he met your sight.

Those sad eyes of yours had been his journey's end. And he couldn't do that to you. Not when your expression had frustratingly asked him to stay.

“And yet it was also because of you that I'm still alive and breathing, Soshiro.” You reasoned. “You don't give yourself enough credit. If it hadn't been for you I would've been-”

“Dead.” He cut you off. “You would've been dead.”

“No. You wouldn't have allowed that. You're the Vice Captain, remember? If there's anywhere safer for me, it's by your side.” You didn't know whether such assurances had really made him listen. The way he was assured in that answer of his wasn't a mere fortnight conclusion. It was as if he had been thinking of such consequences for a much longer time, and that alone makes your heart sink.

So you scooted closer. Moving in to try and pull him down so that you could wrap your arms around his neck. And just when you were snaking it through his shoulders. His hands had stopped you midway.

His calloused palms holding on to the points of your elbows as he gently pries you off of him.

Normally this would be met with your pout. Maybe another bout of force just let the stubborn man look your way. But you had been too weak, still healing from an injury you had no control over. And his response is far too swift for your liking. Leaving your arms missing the warmth his body could provide you.

“No, no, no, no, no–no. You don't understand. I don't deserve to be anywhere near you right now.” He had managed to convince himself. Looking away as the anxiety within you had spiked upon his words.

“Soshiro. Listen to me we can-”

“What I’m saying is that we're done here.”

You had blinked. Looking up at him who had towered above your bed. A somber look on his expression despite the daunting words he had spoken. He looked passive. Unaffected even. Like he had been ready for this moment which had been planned for a long time coming. And your voice could only muster a feeble whisper.

“What do you mean we're done?”

“It's over.” Soshiro continued. Not once paying your face any heed. Lest he change his mind from doing you a greater good he deemed correct. “I don't want anything to do with ya’ anymore.”

If this had been a dream you would've laughed at the way he delivered such a sentiment.

You'd somehow suppress the inner workings of your shock and you'd wake up to find the morning documents you promised yourself to do; in the desk untouched where it usually had been.

And by the time you left your room, you'd habitually laugh it off and tell Soshiro about it in the afternoon just to get a chuckle and light scolding out of him. The usual banter that admittedly, had always been the highlight of your day.

But this had not been a dream.

And hearing him say that. Had hurt more than you anticipated it seemed. And your voice cracks before you can even register yourself speaking.

"Is this because you think I can't love you?" The sudden appearance of tears had painted your face. And you had tried to sniff away the bigger ones that threatened to spill over. But to no avail.

And Soshiro’s eyes widen at the telltale signs of your crying. An unexpected third party which had not been invited to the list of things he ought to do. And his head reels to face you once more. Seeing your face redden with a shame he'd never thought he'd see.

"Do you really think that I'm incapable of willingly loving you? Even beyond that fucking sword of yours-" And Soshiro had all but shook his head. Remorseful in the way tears had jerked from your eyes.

"That ain't the point!"

"Then what IS the point!?" Your tears had blurred your vision. And your hand had embarrassingly moved up to wipe it. One that Soshiro had wished to do for himself had he not been so stubborn.

“-What is the point if I can't make sense of you trying to leave me?"

The turmoil in your voice had been made present. One so encompassing that Soshiro couldn't ignore. And as much as it hurts you to scream. It hurt him to see you suddenly cry like this. Someone he associated as being so usually strong-willed, crumbling in a few short words from him. And suddenly, it feels as if he wants to swallow back his words. Mouth churned into regret when he had moved to take a step closer to you.

“Sweetheart, please..I-”

He shook his head. Suddenly finding himself kneeling down in front of your bed. And when your eyes had met his, it was as if his heart had stopped momentarily. Too focused on the way you had looked at him in desperation. Mixed with both physical and emotional pain.

And he had been the cause of that. Regrettably he knew he had been the cause of that.

"Is the idea of me loving you THAT terrible of a concept to you?" you spoke flimsily. Words betraying the tone you wanted to convey. And somehow you felt worse than when blood was unnaturally seeping out of your wound.

And his own body. One that betrayed his own commands, had a mind of its own. Strong arms wrapping around your bandaged ones that had still been healing from the minor cuts you had accumulated. And the warm steady beat of his heart had drowned you back into reality. Cheeks pressed against his and regrettably, soiling his jacket.

Not that he minded of course. Far too focused on wiping your tears away. Shushing you when you'd shudder from the breathless sniffles he'd been the cause of.

"Shit- no sweetheart no. I didn't mean it."

“I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.” His instant apologies and regrets had echoed for a few moments. The sudden urge to calm you down had him reeling just to caress your shoulders. Weary of the injuries you were faced with as you cried in his arms.

And the struggling shudders you were faced with had all been too painful to see. Comical in the way he had all but worsened your condition when stressing a healing patient had been the last thing people needed to be reminded of.

Yet here you were, struggling to even cry when every breath would agitate any bandaged injuries you'd gotten. And it had been his fault entirely.

“I'm not leaving ya. I'm right here..” He whispered. And you had forcibly glanced up. Seeing the way his distress had wrinkled those usually foxy eyes. Like he had suddenly gained a keen sense of his stupidity and finally realized that his sentiments were not helping you. And upon realization you couldn't help but feel how silly all this had been.

You would've laughed had you not wasted such excess energy into crying your heart out in front of him. Likely an accumulation from the week's worth of not being able to see each other.

That and other things, which were obvious enough.

But you spoke. Wanting to pick his thoughts apart. Reason with him the next time this may happen. And your eyes flutter away the tears as you had finally managed to calm down enough to ask him.

“Then why? Why even suggest that?” Your voice had been soft. His thumbs move to caress the stray tears away from your face. Even moving to casually use his sleeves to gently wipe your cheeks in assurance of his presence. And you close your eyes at the simple gesture. Suddenly feeling much better now that he had been so close to you like this.

Crap, he set himself up didn't he? And just when he had this all planned out too.

In the wake of your hospitalization, he had planned to leave you. Somehow make you change occupations. Maybe work for a tech company where your life wouldn't be on the line. Where you'd be far away from his life and you could live a happy, seperate life from him.

But who was he kidding? Even he thinks it's stupid. The idea of doing you the greater good.

It had sounded conclusive back then.

He'd likely die young, a Kaiju attack that he had lacked defenses in no doubt. And somehow, you'd weasel your way out and live an old happy life.

Like bronze. Tarnished but long lasting.

But you had seen through his intention. And every right to refuse such a concept had knocked him over the head. A simple shed of tears was all it took for such a carefully built wall to crumble. His resolve in shambles at the mere thought of you leaving.

And to take that away from you. To separate the both of you like that? It felt wrong. And somehow his stupidity makes him laugh.

And the next words uttered had been voluntary on his part. Sloppy but it came out from an honest place. That even he doubted its power.

"Because, it scares me how much I need you. Okay?" He leans in. Head against your own so that your noses would touch. And you could see the little cracks on that smile of his. A stark contrast to the facade of laughs he'd usually give off. And it makes your heart flutter upon such fleeting confessions.

"Just hearing that voice of yours is enough to wreck me. And ruin me for anybody else."

"And when I saw you. Layin' there with that faraway look on your eyes. I just couldn't fucking breathe."

The way his eyes had not once left yours had felt like the first time you had met him. In that room with the Captain watching your interactions.

You had been less amicable to each other by then. Always second guessing each other by investigating the little nuances of your expressions. But somehow, the difficulties in reading each other had not been so far fetched. And the longer you two would spend time together. The more you had an inkling of what the other was thinking. And eventually an unspoken understanding had come between the both of you.

One that required no words to speak. Nor assistance from anywhere else. Just you and him. Nothing more.

"What If I lose you? You're all I fucking have.."

"Soshiro.” You whispered. Suddenly feeling the weight of his words drop down on you upon his realization. And you shake your head in turn. Immediately running your hands on the soft tresses of his hair. “You’re not going to lose me.”

“And what if I did?” He was quick to interject. “What if I had been a second too late and you were killed?”

“-And yet I'm still here. See?” You moved his intertwined hands to your chest. Firmly letting him feel the pulse of your heart. A repetition had to be made in order to convince him. And if you had to do such things a million times, there was no doubt you’d do it a thousand more times.

And his hand couldn't help but press firmly. Gingerly looking everywhere to check your wellbeing. Satisfied when he had settled in your slightly puffy eyes that he had been all too remorseful of when he found it too pretty to look away from.

You leaned in. Pressing light kisses against his cheeks to calm his thoughts. The voice in the back of his head all but silenced. When the adrenaline kicked in, because somehow he found himself unfocused when he caught your lips in his.

It was short and sweet.

Far different from the many picturesque and grandiose kisses he'd read about in books. And far too slow amidst the rush hours of your working breaks. Where you'd snag a few touches here and there just to get a rise out of each other. No this had been far too different. Far too gentle than it normally was. But despite the innocence of such a contact. It had made a more lasting impact on him.

The hesitation implied vulnerability, and without it. You'd be remiss to see Soshiro's true feelings underneath it. And it makes you pull away to rub your own hands against his chest. Admiring the way his uniform had engulfed him warmly in the cold air conditioning in the room.

All that matters was that they were okay now.

All that matters is that they are together now. Is that so much to ask?

“I won't die so easily, Soshiro.” Your assurances had made him perk up. Head still leaning against yours where you could see the pretty hallmarks of his tired eyes.

“I may not be able to know..everything in that damn head of yours. But what I do know? Is that I have unwavering trust in you. And that's the only reason I made it out alive today.” Your voice had made him crack a smile. One that makes you raise a brow at him. Suddenly fixated on the way his demeanor had changed so easily when you had spoken your piece.

And Soshiro, ever the enigma that he was. Had stopped his reluctance around you. Finally getting a chance to relax as his hands slotted its way to the bounce of your cheek and jaw, which he had always found so endearing to touch and look at.

He couldn't help but run soothing circles on your flesh. A habit he might've picked up on when reading a few romances here and there.And it makes you wonder if he had always been this sweet. A layer unknown go you that you'd love to rediscover, if only he'd put down that smart mouth of his.

“I think that was ‘bout a week ago.” He corrected you. His face is as snarky as his comment. And that was enough to shake your head.

But of course, that had been too much to ask. Too far and few inbetween. You spoke too soon.

“Fine. A week ago.” You affirmed. Though this time you had rolled your eyes with a laugh of your own.

And the two of you had simply sat there. Soshiro rocking you back and forth as best he could without risking your injuries. Hands against the plush of your waistline, carefully making sure the stitches were still intact. But the warmth had remained.

This time he had been less distant. More calm and understanding like he had usually been. And that was enough for you. For now.

“Do you mean that?”

“Mean what?” You had blinked with a smile on your face. Sweet as it came, you had a viper that you knew how to use. And Soshiro wasn't ever one to stop confronting it. Even if he had to break out of his shell to ask the harder questions between you both.

“When you said you loved me.” He added.

And he wouldn't be able to miss that pretty smile forming on the corners of your lips. Leaning against him until the softness of your lips had grazed his chapped ones. Though you’d note, it was still gentle. Still his. And still yours to capture should you want it.

“Do I have to kiss you again and prove it?” You mutter out.

“Do you not want to right now?”

And without a doubt did you lean in. Capturing his lips with a crooked smile in between. Soft and sensual. And you had missed this. Missed him who had not gotten the chance to set things right by you.

How long had it been since you had taken the time to really kiss him? Without the rush of prying eyes, nor the responsibilities that came with their work. It was just a kiss, yet in this moment it felt like everything.

Slow and reassuring. Without the need of words to complicate things. It had conveyed everything he needed to know. And when you pulled back, Soshiro could see the pretty pearls of your teeth. Admiring the way your lips had bruised red from how eagerly he had captured your mouth. And he wouldn't dream of being anywhere else in the world right now. Not when you had looked so perfect. Hospital gown and all.

“Does that prove my point?”

He laughs. Something you had always thought to be pretty.

“Maybe.” The familiar trace of his hand had brushed past your hair. Straightening out the few loose strands that could obscure him from your face. And his smile, although back to the usual cat-like facade, had now softened up significantly upon your presence. And you had prided the way this man had looked at you like you had offered him the world.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at ya. I just-”

“Shh..I know.” Your hand had touched his lips. Admiring the way it too, had reddened from your previous kisses.

“I'm tougher than bronze, you know? I'm not so simple as to let a few words bend me sideways.”

“Okonogi tells me the same.”

“And right she was. You should learn a thing or two from her.” And a laugh bubbles between the two of you. He had to remind himself to save his apologies later for Okonogi. For despite her absence, even now she was playing cupid for them. The small voice in his head urging him to tell you how he truly felt.

And without warning. He managed to say it outloud.

“I love you.”

Those words had struck a melodic chord in you. Ones that made you look back at him in temporary stupor. Before finally turning giddy at the way he so gently said it. No remorse. No regret. A fact even she couldn't deface as mockery. When there'd normally be a trick of a joke involved.

And in your quiet smiles held a deep admiration for him. Ones that squeezed Soshiro's hand despite the difficulty of your injuries.

But that didn't matter. Injuries heal after all. And right now, you had been far too focused on him to mind the slowly subsiding pain on your body.

“What's this all of a sudden? You're not joking are you?” You ask cautiously. Though a smile still remained on your face. Far too elated at hearing those words. And from the look on his face, you could tell he had been serious in his admission.

“It's not sudden. I just–” Soshiro lets out a small chuckle. Not entirely sure why he feels so nervous in the wake of your question.

“I meant to say it that day. Before the Kaiju attacked. I wanted it to be perfect for ya and..” His voice stops when you lean in. Cuddling him down as best you could in the safety of the hospital's bedsheets. The understanding look in your eyes had all but told him that you knew. And it makes him think twice about having to explain things to you again. Not when you could now read him so well. Especially in the most important aspects of his life.

“I know. You don't need to tell me twice."

He heard you speak. Though the hint of playfulness in your voice hadn't subsided. A reminder that you had been slowly regaining your strength. And pretty soon, you'd be pulling him down by the collar just to kiss him breathless if you wanted to.

But for now, he was gonna have to take care of you. Take the lead and deal with your smart comments. And it makes him smile knowing he'd get to hear such witty banters from you again. More so now that you were awake.

“Really now? And I thought you'd be happy to have me say it outloud for ya.”

His chuckle had made his chest rumble. And you could feel the pleasant vibration as your head fell squarely on his chest. A roll in your eyes as you had hummed in reply.

“Well…I suppose it couldn't hurt for you to say it again.”

And he would. He'd do it as long as you'd allow him that privilege.

And this time, he too had read you like an open book. Somehow fitting perfectly in the way they understand the other without needing to speak. They needed to work on it. They needed each other more than ever before.

So it was lucky their bonds were more lasting than bronze. And fate had brought them together.