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pennyellee · 1 month ago

Text

𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗𝐈𝐑

title: ELIXIR pairings: mafia hoseok x female reader genre: dark romance, smut, porn with plot, 90s, sort of arranged marriage, childhood friends to lovers word count: app. 22K beta read by one and only @chaoticpuff17 prompt 1: "And I won't be satisfied till we're taking those vows" prompt 2: you were apparently promised to the heir of Jung's criminal empire since birth, not that you ever took that ongoing inside joke seriously. You grew up alongside the said man, yet your mind is conflicted about upholding your part and saying I do until one drunken night reveals a lot more than you'd like.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | explicit language, hurt men's ego, arranged marriage, yandere behaviour, hoseok is complicated to understand tbh, but same for the reader, implied murder, graphic violence, alcohol usage, heavy drinking, abuse of prescribed medication, anti-depressants, oral sex (both f and m receiving), face riding, penetration, unprotected sex, sideways sex, creampie, shame walk, misogyny, old traditional norms forced upon, guns, illegal activities, emotional distress, hoseok is sometimes kind of a dick, manipulative behaviour, and so on (if i forgot something I'm sorry)

author's note: Good morning American, Good afternoon Europe, Good night Korea. Happy Birthday to Hobi! This one has been simmering in my brain for the longest time, and I can’t believe it’s finally out in the world! This is where the heart of the story really began for me when I first dreamt up the telling the tales that happened around 1996 in NYC. Champagne Confetti and Anubis may have made their debut first (and trust me, I’m still cooking up more for those), but this piece is a stand-alone one-shot, though hey, I’m not against adding some filler if inspiration strikes. Princess and Hoseok’s story is woven through all my works, past, present, and future, especially with the Anubis chapters, so you’ll definitely see more of them.

I’m a bundle of nerves and excitement sharing this with you, just like every time I hit that publish button. If you didn't read the preview and my note there, to emphasise - I’m knee-deep in my MA thesis (yes, the chaos is real), so if I go ghost for a bit, know I’m just wrestling with academic deadlines. Thus, that's why there is still no new chapter on Anubis or Lacrimosa.

But I adore you all endlessly for sticking around and reading my stuff, my lovely little fairies! ✨

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐋 | ❝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟔❞

Winter 1995

"Well thank fuck we are making a ton of those,—" he laughs at you and how you're gulping down nearly a tenth glass of whiskey that has his family name on the crystal clear bottle, poisoning your mind with the elixir more and more each time the liquid meets your lips.

"and that's why you're ordering me another one now," you say, resting your head on your right hand and squinting, eyeing him. The man sitting next to you at the bar loves you, and all he wants is for you to love him back. When it was decided that you were to be wed, he was thrilled to hear the news, as if he would not want it without the blessing. But your disappointment and rebellion against the elder's decision made him calculate how to get you to obey and be the good girl he knows you are.

"You ready to talk, Princess?" The pet names were the usual consensus in your friendship. Though this one turned a shade darker. Everybody called you that and you never minded it, but now this remind you of your "duty" that you are not ready to fulfil.

You have no idea what you just agreed to. The young man nods to the bartender, who begins to prepare the eleventh glass while he only sits by his second.

The bartender places the crystal clear glass with ice and liquid inside in front of you. You inhale the air sharply and press a finger on your eyelid to smooth down your eyeshadow, only for your hand to drop to balance your head on the back of it. The other runs through a sleek, shoulder-length bob with a soft inward curl at the ends, giving it a voluminous and playful bounce that you sport now. Your hair is parted down the middle, with delicate face-framing tendrils that you push out of your eyesight turning to face him.

"What do you want to know, pretty boy?" you play with the words on your tongue. Hoseok momentarily thinks about all the ways he could show you he is the man and not the boy you just called him. But he knows it’s just banter. He takes a sip from his glass while raising an eyebrow at your remark.

"What bothers your mind? You wouldn't be drowning like this otherwise."

You give your so-called wannabe fiancé one drunken look and reply. "They killed off the man I dated and now everything is going to shit. Am I supposed to be happy?" You wave your glass in his face and take a sip. You were too drunk to not be honest with him.

"Look, honey, I've always been honest with you, and I'm not about to change that. I ain't gonna lie to you that I'm sorry that boy is dead because I'm not. You know I didn't like him—"

"Why?" You interrupt him. Deep down you knew why, it was rather obvious, but that didn’t stop you from demanding he voices his thoughts. Hoseok lifts his head and stares into your caramel-brown eyes.

"Because I love you, and you know that." Yeah.

Sadness flickers across his face. He wishes you would say yes when he proposed to you just a few months ago when the elders' approved. They were very angry with you when you decided to chase the already dead boy instead of planning the wedding with the clan's golden heir. But that did not matter. It is decided and they'll drag you down the aisle whether you'll cooperate or not.

Jung Hoseok is the heir to his family’s s empire, your family, and when the heads of other clan families sat down in a meeting about the future of the syndicate, it was already decided that the heir needed his bride. The decision was made for you before you had something to say about it, and going against it, means risking everything. That's why he was more than surprised by how easily you answered when he was on one knee holding the emerald ring in a velvet black box staring at you with happiness in his eyes.

The subtle hum of conversation and the clinking of cutlery provided a comforting background melody. It was a few weeks since the last time you saw Hoseok, hence there was no reason for you to not go to dinner with your best friend to catch up. That's what you considered him to be for you. He had your outermost love and respect and for years you thought that's how he saw you too.

You often laughed at the remarks the other syndicate members threw your way, how you are such a lovely couple. Match made in heaven. Hoseok laughed too, but, in a different manner than you. And now when you look back, you could have seen this coming. His father always spoke about you two should get married one day and you thought that's just a fantasy because you used to be inseparable. You never fought the idea, to confess. Until you met him.

Mark Tuan had you at hello, there's no need to sugar-coat it.

He always had a way of taking up space, not physically—he was lean and unassuming—but in how he commanded a room without trying.

He wasn't like the others. He didn't wear wealth-like armour, nor did he wield power with a showy arrogance. Because he had none.

He was a stark contrast to Hoseok. But that's not why you felt so hard on your knees for him. For that reason, you want to selfishly hide as it is nothing extraordinary.

He understood your desire to be, well, you. Wild and free, being your own person, despite how the family raised you. Mark saw you for who you were beneath the titles, the wealth, and the legacy. He didn't try to contain you, didn't try to mould you into someone you weren't. With Mark, there were no expectations, no carefully laid plans. There was just you and him, two people finding solace in each other's chaos.

And that, more than anything, was why you fell.

To him, you were just some bar owner at the border of Manhattan and the Bronx. But behind the word, some was more.

You weren't serving drinks—no, that's Peaches expertise— you were listening, observing, connecting, and occasionally pulling the strings that kept the undercurrent of your world from swallowing everything whole.

Mark saw through the haze of cigarette smoke and dim neon lights to the person standing behind the scenes. He didn't need you to explain the why of it all, nor did he ask for a justification for the choices you made. He simply accepted you, and that acceptance felt like a gift.

Truth be told, you never questioned yourself why you did not cut yourself from the family. Anubis was in your name, after all.

But it wasn't just a name; it was an identity, a burden, a purpose. It tied you to something larger, something darker, and no amount of neon lights or spilt Jung whiskey could ever wash it away. Ironic that you drink Elixir out of all the liquor in the world. And maybe, just maybe, you didn't want to wash it away.

Why?

Because despite everything you just said, you loved the person you grew up with. The bond was there. A strange feeling of loyalty. When there's a seed, you nurture it until it blooms. You had grown up together in the shadow of your family's empire, running through its grand halls as children, oblivious to the weight of the world you were destined to inherit. He was your partner in crime before you even knew what that truly meant.

That's what they did. They raised you, gave you education, and love, scolded you when you misbehaved and later on gave a role in the family. You were the eyes and ears. But you were not foolish. Even that was temporary.

So, you stayed.

Not like they would let you go.

This wishful thinking by Hoseok’s old man reminiscing about the good old days. You never thought Hoseok took it seriously. Not until that tonight.

"Y/N," Hoseok's voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present.

He reached across the table, his hand warm against yours and you looked from your intertwined hands to his shiny smile and warm eyes.

"I missed you—" a voice carried a softness that disarmed you, momentarily unravelling the protective walls you'd spent years building. He made you go soft each time he decided he had enough of not being around you. You two were busy, always, but he also always found the little loophole where he could steal you away and parade with you wherever he wanted. And you never thought anything big about it. Just two best friends, living their lives together. But this time, that night, it was different.

"I missed you too," you murmured, unsure if it was a lie or a reluctant truth. His smile widened upon hearing your words and he brought your hands to his lips, laying a warm kiss against your tender skin. Another gesture you never thought twice about before.

The restaurant was dimly lit, its ambience a blend of candlelight and murmured conversations. It was the kind of place Hoseok liked—elegant, understated, and private. Tonight, however, the intimacy of the setting felt like a noose tightening around your neck.

You had a bad feeling since the moment his driver pulled in front of Anubis and you had to drop everything to accommodate Hoseok's need of having an outing with you. Why wouldn't you, right?

He studied you for a moment, his gaze both tender and searching.

"You've been avoiding me," he said, though there was no accusation in his tone, only an unspoken plea for honesty.

"I've been busy, Hobi. You know how it is." You let out a small laugh, shaking your head.

He tilted his head, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I know you, love. Tell me the truth."

There was no point denying it, not to him. Hoseok had always been able to see through you, even when you wished he wouldn't. The one who had dared you to climb trees too high, who laughed until his sides hurt when you both got caught sneaking into places you shouldn't have been. You sighed, leaning back in your chair, suddenly feeling exposed.

Should you confide in him?

"I'm just tired,—" you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hoseok's smirk softened into something closer to concern, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned forward.

"Tired of what?" he asked, his tone careful, coaxing.

"Everything?—" you huffed out, a bitter laugh escaping your lips.

"I love Anubis, I do—" you began, but your voice wavered, the weight of your admission pressing down on your chest.

"It's just—" you struggled to find the right words for a moment, "too much to handle now."

It's been a lot to handle. Especially, when the source of your happiness and outermost help with the operations Anubis ran behind the scenes while it posed as an ordinary bar, was nowhere to be found for weeks.

He was missing, and you told yourself he was probably just busy with some shady dealings, something that would blow over in time. He had a way of disappearing when things got too hot, and you never questioned it—at least, not out loud. He was not as protected as you were. A princess.

But never this long. No calls, no messages, no nothing. The usual channels you both relied on for communication were silent. It was as though he had vanished from the world, leaving behind nothing but an eerie void.

And that's when you started to question your place in this world. All over again. As the only source of hushing those thoughts, was gone—

The teasing glint in his eyes was gone now, replaced by something deeper, something that made your chest ache.

"I don't think the place can be what the family wants it to be anymore, Hobi."

Hoseok's brow furrowed at your words, his usual calm demeanour cracking ever so slightly. He sat back in his chair, his fingers gripping the edge of the table instead of your hands now.

He seemed…..nervous.

You looked away, staring at the faint scratches on the wooden table, tracing them with your eyes as if they could lead you to an escape.

"God's timing is always right, I guess," for a moment you wondered whether you heard the same exact words he just uttered.

You swallowed, the lump in your throat growing.

"You've been handling it all this time," he said softly. "You've been holding it together when most people would've folded—"

"I just want to escape it for a little bit," you interrupted him, to not tune him on the wrong octave but by the looks of it, it's too late for that.

"And what would you do?" he asked, his voice a careful balance of curiosity and concern. "If you could walk away from all of it—Anubis, the expectations, the weight of it all—what would you do?"

You blinked at him, startled by the question, not sure what answer he wanted to get from you. The only person who ever asked you that is Mark.

“I… I never considered leaving it fully–” you started, sighed and said the truth.

"--I don't know," you admitted, a touch of bitterness creeping into your tone. "It's not like I've ever been given the choice."

He nodded slowly as if he'd expected that answer. Then, without a word, he reached across the table and took your hand in his.

"But you know that everyone has a choice in this family—" he said, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

"And it's up to you if you choose right or wrong."

That's the family mantra. At least one of many you go by. But what did that even mean to you anymore?

You had always chosen right—or at least, that's what you'd convinced yourself. You had played the game, followed the rules, kept your head down, and stuck to the script the family had written for you.

You wanted to argue, wanted to say that the control had never really been yours to begin with, but you didn't.

"You don't have to be alone you know?—" his voice quieter now, almost hesitant, as if testing the waters, unsure how far to push. But that night he pushed far.

"I'm here for you."

Before you could conjure a response, he leaned forward, his voice lowering to a near whisper.

"Do you remember when we were kids, sitting under the maple tree in the garden behind my house? You used to say you wanted to be free, to see the world. And I told you I'd take you anywhere you wanted to go. Do you remember?"

You nodded, the memory as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. Those days felt like a different lifetime—a simpler one, untouched by the complications of duty and obligation.

But Hoseok's interpretation of freedom never matched yours.

Hoseok's grip on your hand tightened, grounding you in the present.

"I still mean it. I'd give you the world if I could—"

"Hoseok…" you started, unsure of what to say.

"You don't need to worry about anything or about what anyone thinks. I'll take care of everything, I'll make it right."

You wanted to pull away, to find some way to untangle yourself from the web he was spinning around you, but his presence, his certainty, was paralysing.

You could feel the walls closing in, and a part of you wanted to fight, to tear free from the grip he was starting to have on you. But the other part—the part that had been with him since childhood, the part that knew him too well—began to crack under the pressure.

"Hoseok…" Your voice trembled, the uncertainty and the fear finally making its way to the surface. "You're not hearing me. I don't—"

His thumb ran over your lower lip and he gently pressed against the soft flesh, silencing you with a tenderness that only made it worse.

"You don't have to say anything. I know what you need, what you want. I'll give it to you. You don't have to choose anymore—

"I'll choose for you."

You blinked once, twice, thrice but you could not shake his words off. What is he alluding to?

He got the wrong impression. Or did he?

"Why are you saying all this, Hobi?" you asked, your voice barely audible. His touch was warm, and grounding, as his other thumb brushed over your knuckles, again and again.

"I've loved you for as long as I can remember, Princess," his eyes rose to yours, searching for anything. Any emotion, a hint that you're sharing his love, that you're ready for it to bloom like it was always meant to.

When he could not recognise what he was seeing in your reaction to his words, he slowly rose from his chair to move to the side of the table, closer to you.

Before you could give him any response, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black box while he descended to one knee before you.

Your eyes were never wider and even when you connected all the years of your shared youth, you still couldn't believe what was happening before you right now.

"And I won't be satisfied till we're taking those vows–"

He knew about Mark and you. He fucking knows you have a man you love. This was an ownership, a claim. He had enough of your avoidance that you blamed the bar for. He knew that avoiding him meant only one thing.

"Will you make me the happiest man in Manhattan and marry me?"

This wasn't just any love. Any proposal. This was Hoseok's way of drawing a line in the sand, demanding your loyalty, your love, your future—all of it. And in that moment, you realised the truth you had been avoiding.

A quick, shallow breath escaped your lips as his hand hovered over the open box. The family ring you used to see on Hoseok's mother's finger when you were children.

You swallowed hard, your voice trembling as you tried to find the right words. Fuck right words, ANY words.

The emerald settled in a delicate halo of precious diamonds spoke to you. More than once you imagined that ring on your finger, but whether you imagined Hoseok putting it on was hazy and distant, as if you were never sure.

Hoseok's gaze softened slightly, a glimmer of hope dancing in his eyes as if he already knew the answer you were about to give him.

But you didn't answer immediately. Instead, your gaze flickered to the small black box again, then back to Hoseok. You could see it in his eyes now—the certainty, the devotion, the unwavering belief that he was the only one who could make you happy.

The thought of rejecting him, of crushing everything he had built in his mind, gnawed at you. But at the same time, a part of you felt suffocated by his expectations, by his love that felt more like a chain than a choice.

You opened your mouth, but the words still refused to form. Your mind was a battlefield, caught between two worlds, two people, and an obligation that you could never shake.

Your heart twisted, the weight of his words settling into your chest like a stone. You wanted to tell him that you did remember. That you still cherished those memories. But things weren't that simple anymore.

"No."

He'd like nothing more than for you to understand; that you belong to each other.

"It's your fault." You mutter to yourself.

"What?" Hoseok sets a defensive tone, hoping you are not implying what he thinks you are. "What do you mean?" he asks.

"If you'd come with this forward a little bit earlier—" you point at the barren ring finger. By earlier you mean before you fell in love with Mark. You could not wear the ring so proudly when he forced it upon your finger and a second later in the heat of the moment, you threw the ring back at him, storming out of the restaurant.

"—I'd have happily said yes, do you know why, pretty boy?" You laugh drunkenly. The brunette man shakes his head, but when he sees you not continuing, he voices out his answer.

"No," now he waits impatiently for yours.

"I l-loved you—" His breath hitches when he hears your words; this is what he waited for. He does not care, it is the whiskey speaking for you, fogging your mind and critical thinking.

“I do love you, just my own way–”

He-does-not-care. He waited long enough to hear those words from you, and now his heart is becoming whole again.

"You've always been here, and you don't look like you're going to leave me that easily. Appa Jung always used to tell me how we are meant to be, and you know what I did?" You do not wait for him to answer the rhetorical question before you do so yourself.

"I threw it all selfishly away—" You wave your hand sideways until you nearly fall off the barstool. That's what your drunken brain thinks. You could have had it all. Pussy and power. Instead, you chose the wild whirlwind of emotions you felt for Mark.

They took Anubis from you. Not literally, but you knew that the moment you'd step your foot there, Namjoon or any other brother would gladly drag you to Hoseok. So you mentally parted from the bar that embodied your youthful years for the time being. The time you needed to think. And you wish you could slap yourself for selfishly still wanting that life. Your life.

"Because I fell in love with a dead man—" he knew that. Hoseok knew you loved that young biker boy and how head over heels you were for him. In all the years of your life, he never saw you that happy and it pained his heart that it isn't him you so openly adore.

He loathed that boy and all his being. Of course, he was not sad his brain got blasted off.

"You love me?" Hoseok voices out finally. If he'd known that all it would take is for the love of his life to get a little tipsy, he would have invited you to the uphill parties with him a long time ago. He did not hope you’d show up. But this morning, you woke up vomiting last nights tour de bar and decided you are done feeling crappy about man who stole your heart (and money as you got to know later) from you and died with it. Life has to go on.

"I want you under me, Princess,—"

—right-fucking-now," he takes the glass out of your hand, saying the words through his teeth. You would never allow it if it weren't for your lust and the boost the alcohol provided. Or at least you would tease him longer than just agree right away.

You were grieving, drinking whilst on anti-depressants that were causing your body to swell and cloud your mind enough to give up and let the man have you. It’s not like you never wondered what that filthy mouth of his can do to you. Hoseok was an extremely attractive man to say the least.

"Then take me, hon–" You say seductively, biting your bottom lip. Hoseok doesn't flinch and tosses a few bills on the bar with some tips for the bartender. He grabs you by the wrist and pulls you out of the club the party was held at. You obediently put one foot in front of the other, trying not to fall when you trail behind him.

The walk to the elevator feels like never-ending to Hoseok. Once in, he reaches for you, pushing you into the furthest corner of the elevator, pinning you tightly. He pulls your face to his and presses his lips to yours. He traps you there, his hands in your short hair. As he subdues you with his tongue, you taste his relief, his desire, his passion for you and your mind is clouded enough to realise that this is your first kiss together.

Suddenly he stops, leaning into you with his gaze and the full weight of his body too, so you can't move nor attempt to run if you would have wanted to. You have nowhere to go but he's still cautious. It feels like an eternity before the elevator stops at the ground level, and an even greater eternity is the actual journey home. Agony. Hoseok is in agony to bed you and show you how much he longed for your body and soul.

In the sanctuary of his bedroom, you shed your inhibitions along with your clothes, your hunger for each other insatiable. You could feel his masculine body all over you, his hands exploring every piece of your skin and leaving hot wet kisses on your body.

His lips seared a trail of fire along your skin, leaving you breathless and wanting more. You arch into his touch, your nails grazing his back as you pull him closer, desperate for the heat of his body against yours.

In the heat of the moment, there are no words, only the primal language of desire that speaks volumes in the silence. You gasp as Hoseok's lips find yours once more, his kiss a promise of ecstasy beyond imagination.

"Ride my face—" He growled whilst he snatched the panties that covered your pulsating wet pussy.

You feel a surge of heat at his words, your pulse quickening as you meet his gaze with a hunger of your own. You feel his hands grasp your hips, guiding you towards his waiting mouth. Without hesitation, you comply, straddling his eager face as he hungrily devours you. His tongue traces maddening circles around your throbbing core, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You moan his name, your fingers tangling in his hair as you ride the waves of ecstasy that crashes over you.

The gentle suction, the soft caress of his tongue, and the subtle scrape of his teeth all combine to create a maelstrom of feeling that leaves you gasping and trembling.

Each flick of his tongue, each nibble of his lips, sends you spiralling closer to the edge, teetering on the brink of oblivion. Your hands instinctively reach out, grasping for something to anchor yourself to as the world spins around you. You glimpse at how your fingers are tangled in the soft strands of his hair as you pull him closer, deeper, hips rocking back and forth as you ride the waves of pleasure.

His moans vibrate through every cell in your body, resonating deep within your cunt. Fingers dig deep into your skin, holding you in place as he devours you with an unbridled hunger. And when you finally shatter into a million pieces, it's with his name on your lips, a prayer of gratitude for the bliss he's given you.

Hoseok was painfully hard, his slacks were too tight at the moment. You feel his arousal pressing against you, the hardness of his desire evident even through the fabric of his slacks. With trembling hands, you reach for the button of his slacks, eager to free him from the confines that only serve to intensify his longing. As the soft fabric falls away, you're greeted by the sight of him, thick and throbbing with need.

Without hesitation, you take him in your hand, relishing the feeling of his hardness against your skin. You stroke him slowly at first, savouring the feeling of having him in your grasp for once. He hissed, the sensation travelling his body. The knowledge that you have this effect on him sends a thrill through your veins.

With each movement, you push him closer to the edge, teasing and tantalizing him until he's on the brink of oblivion. And when you finally take him in your mouth, it's with a hunger that borders on desperation, eager to taste the sweet release that awaits.

You take him deeper, you feel him throb and pulse against your tongue, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He grips your hair tightly, guiding your head on his cock while your eyes water when he hits the back of your throat. With each bob of your head, you feel him grow even harder, his breath hitching in his chest each time.

You move faster, your own arousal building to a fever pitch, and you feel him tensing beneath your touch. But he is not ready just yet. Forcefully pushing your head away, you let his cock go with a loud pop, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his throbbing member.

He looks down at you with a hungry intensity, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he catches his breath.

"Gon' fuck you silly, princess."

You meet his hungry gaze with a look of anticipation, eager to feel him deep inside you.

With a hungry growl, he takes you in his arms, his lips crashing against yours in a frenzy of need and longing. You respond in kind, your hands roaming over his body, eager to feel every inch of him against your skin.

He flips you on your side and presses himself against your back, the anticipation builds to a fever pitch, the air crackling with the electricity of your shared desire. When he finally enters you, it's with a force that takes your breath away, filling you completely with his hardness and heat.

"Fuck, Hobi," You moan his name as he moves inside you, each thrust driving you higher and higher towards the pinnacle of ecstasy. Your nails dig into the sheets as you cling to him, lost in a haze of bliss that consumes you both.

As he whispers words of longing and desire against your skin, you feel a surge of heat coursing through you, igniting a fire that burns brighter with each passing moment. His hips are rutting against your ass, the skin slapping too, having a contest of what is louder, your united moans or the latter.

"Tell me you fucking love me again." He demanded while his cock was abusing your cunt with all the pleasure. Each thrust passes and you feel yourself edging closer and closer to the edge, your body humming with need and longing.

Your heart races in your chest as you meet his gaze, your eyes locked together in a passionate embrace. He lifts your leg to thrust even deeper than before sending your moans an octave higher.

"I fucking love you, Hobi," you gasp, the words spilling from your lips like a prayer as you surrender yourself fully to the pleasure of his touch.

A hungry growl escapes Hoseok's lips, reacting to your words. He twists your upper body so he can reach to kiss your lips, not stopping to fuck his cock into you. Hoseok's hands roam over your body, tracing every curve and contour with a reverence that sends shivers of pleasure racing down your spine.

You arch into his touch, your nails digging into his hair as you cling to him desperately, unwilling to let go of the intoxicating sensation of his touch.

"I'm gonna cum inside of your pretty cunt."

His lips crash against yours in a passionate kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth with a hunger that leaves you breathless. Even as he kisses you, his hips never cease their relentless rhythm, driving you closer and closer to the edge with each hard thrust.

You feel yourself inching closer and closer to the edge as you squeeze your eyes shut, a loud whimper coming out of you from the overstimulation that he's forcing upon you.

"Please make me cum again, Hobi. I can't-" Your plea hangs in the air between you. Hoseok's lips curve into a wicked grin as he continues to thrust into you with increasing fervour. He tightens his grip on your hips, his movements becoming even more urgent as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.

Your body trembling with anticipation. And then, with a cry of release that echoes through the room, you finally let go, surrendering yourself fully to the pleasure that consumes you. His throaty moan is muffled as your head is too dizzy to concentrate. He spills his hot cum inside of you just seconds after you release it.

And as you lay tangled together in the tangled sheets, you know that he won't let you slip away tonight. So you drift off to sleep in each other's arms after he takes you again and again and again until you cannot hold your eyes open anymore.

A sharp pain throbs in your head. You gasp when your eyes register the bright light of the morning sun. You rub your hand over them and pick yourself up, leaning with your elbows. You sigh and close your eyes for a moment. Your head spins, and you have a very strong urge to empty the contents of your stomach, which actually has nothing in it. You freeze in place when you hear a murmur from the other side of the bed, and the subsequent rustling of the duvet startles you even more.

Slowly turning your head to the source of the sound, you're scared. On your right side, the man is lying peacefully, snuffling contentedly away. His raven hair is plastered to his forehead, and his eyelids are tightly closed.

Your mouth opens into a big 'O', and you hold yourself from screaming out; the whole house would hear the words that don't belong in a lady's mouth. Your head swivels back into place again, and this time you look down under the duvet just like in all the romance movies you watched alone.

Upon discovering that your clothes are somehow missing, your eyes widen completely, and now you are absolutely awake. The maid must have taken them to laundry earlier. You put your feet on the cold floor of Hoseok's room and grab his shirt from the walk-in closet. Putting it on quietly, you begin to sneak out of his room. At the door, you turn to look at him. The realisation hits you like a truck on the highway — Hoseok won't let this slide.

Your footsteps lead you to your old room where you grew up. You hope to find some of your old clothes there so you won't have to leave the Jung mansion in only a shirt that barely reaches below your ass.

In your mind, you rejoice once finding what you're looking for and begin the smooth flee out of the mansion. You pray that you will not meet Kkangpae Jung or Halabeoji Jung on your way. You know if you do, you'll never leave this house. It wouldn’t be nice talk.

Sighing happily, you get into one of the cars and try to drive away through the open gate just for the guards to surround the car immediately.

Your body tensed and your eyes held the reflection of the armed men prohibiting you from leaving the premise of the Jung's mansion. You switched the car off, the engine's purr fading into silence as the gravity of the situation sunk in. It was clear that escaping unnoticed was no longer an option.

A tall, stern-faced man approached your car, his gaze unwavering as he rapped on your window. Reluctantly, you rolled it down, the crisp early morning air replacing the warmth of the vehicle.

"Miss Kim," the man said, his voice authoritative. "I'm afraid you can't leave. The Kkangpae requests your presence."

Fuck. You were fucked. Your heart raced as you processed the severity of the situation. The Kkangpae, Hoseok's father and the head of the whole syndicate had summoned you. It wasn't a request you could decline without consequence when you were right in his den, and you knew this was the end. They trapped you in.

The Kkangpae's study, adorned with dark wood and leather, exuded an air of authority that matched the man himself. He sat behind a large mahogany desk, studying some documents. Without looking up, he motioned for you to take a seat.

As you sat down, your eyes couldn't help but wander to the framed family photos on the walls. Hoseok's smiling face stared back at you from childhood to adulthood. The Kkangapae was a family man to his core or misogynistic anti-feminist, you choose.

"Y/N,—" he began, his tone measured. You braced yourself for what storm is to come.

"I thought you finally came to your senses when I saw you arrive with Hoseok last night—" his voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of disappointment. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, knowing that the events of last night were fuelled by the large amount of alcohol you devoured.

Only now you realise that he aimed to doom you all along by bringing you to the epicentre of the whole syndicate instead of his brownstown in the downtown. You mentally cursed at Hoseok and the brilliance of his manipulative nature. You should have known better than to try to negotiate your freedom with Hoseok and drink like that in his presence. Stupid girl, aren't ya?

When he finally looked up, his steely gaze penetrating your soul, you could feel goosebumps on the back of your neck.

"—but I did not expect you to attempt to flee the mansion like you're some whore and not my son's fiancée!" His fist met the surface of the carefully crafted table and you jumped in your seat.

The impact reverberated through the room, the sudden noise echoing in the silence that followed. The framed photos on the wall seemed to witness the confrontation, capturing the Kkangpae's stern expression and your startled reaction.

"We all have been patient with you, dear, thinking you just need to compose yourself—" a tear escaped your eye. No matter what, you won't change the outcome of this.

"But you found solace in drowning yourself in alcohol and whoring yourself around the city!" He shouted your way. "I knew I should have brought you home far earlier than this."

You could not argue with his words, no matter how shameful they are. In a span of four months, you managed to get drunk until you blacked out numerous times all for that one boy you loved and lost. The one that loved but betrayed you back. When you drank you did not think of him and how much you miss that smile of his and how much you should hate him. His tattooed masculine arms that held you at nights and soft pierced lips that kissed yours —only fragments of memories now.

"I did not raise you to ruin yourself. Have I not given you enough?" The Kkangpae's voice, though stern, held a tinge of desperation, as if searching for a semblance of reason in the chaos of your actions. You were sure that if your father would be among the living now, he would have never let this happen. But he is not and by raising you, the Kkangpae means, taking you in after he decapitated your father for betraying his leader. Remorse, he called it.

You are disappointed in yourself. But for a solely different reason. You should have run away from the continent when Mark said he had a way. Perhaps, now, he would be alive and you would not have to write foolish love letters to heaven anymore. Perhaps, you would fall asleep without the extensive drinking and all the anti-depressants you probably did not even need, but with them, you do not hate him for leaving you here to deal with this mess alone.

The truth hit you like a tidal wave, and the weight of your actions settled in the pit of your stomach. The Kkangpae's words, though harsh, were a reflection of the reality you had tried to escape.

"You lost your way, child." The Kkangpae leaned back in his chair, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. The room, once charged with tension, now felt heavy with the weight of unspoken regret. You did lose your way in the name of love. Founding him, already long gone, in the jeep just at the outskirts of Bronx, a hole in the side of his head, dried blood sprawled on the white leather seats, broke you.

There was not a second you did not regret saying no to Hoseok. It haunts you how that selfish decision might have led to the strongest gale in your sea. Perhaps, they would let him live if you would cooperate. The Jungs always found a way to persuade people to do what they wanted. But you did not expect them to go as far.

Suicide. The police ruled it as suicide. Of course, they did, with the right amount of bribery — everyone bent to their will. The day after Hoseok swore that he had nothing to do with it, that it’s an unfortunate coincidence, lying straight to your face broke you even more and that's why you ran. Hoesok knew everything that happened around, but he refused to tell you. You ran around the city as fast as you could so he would not catch up to you.

You loved Hoseok in your own way and when you said that if he'd come with the proposal sooner you'd say yes — that was not a lie. You always had a hunch feeling that those words about you two and your future together were to some degree true. So it was not such big surprise for you when he bent the knee and popped the question, a little too late. But you could not marry him then and you don't think you are willing now. You would be willing to do so, when you are ready. The difference is, now, there's no other choice. He won't let you leave this house alone, he won't let you run away again.

And there's nowhere nor no one to run to anymore.

"I never intended to bring disgrace to the family," you whispered, your voice betraying a mixture of regret and sadness.

"You'll redeem yourself, child, don't worry—" he said

"I need you to understand that you are not just Hoseok's partner; you are the future matriarch of this family. Your actions reflect not only on you but on the entire Jung legacy—"

"I know, I just never thought of this as seriously. I'm scared, I panicked when he popped the question." You blurt out. Your confession hung in the air, raw and unguarded. Or more like a lie so he will let you go, at least from this suffocating office.

You had spent years perfecting the art of composure, of presenting a façade that betrayed nothing only for it fail now.

The Kkangpae regarded you for a moment, his sharp eyes softening just enough to betray a hint of humanity beneath the ruthless exterior. He wasn't used to hearing you admit fear—it was almost as if he didn't quite know how to respond.

"Fear is natural," he said finally, his voice low but firm. "But you have nothing to fear if you choose right."

Choosing right in this family never meant following your heart—it meant aligning yourself with their expectations, their rules, their version of right.

You nodded, not trusting your voice to stay steady under the pressure. Your heart raced as you avoided his piercing gaze, hoping he'd accept your half-truth as sincerity. All you needed was a way out of this office, a moment to breathe, to think.

"You've always been stronger than you give yourself credit for," he continued, his tone measured but unyielding. "This family needs that strength now. Hoseok needs it."

The memory of his hands cradling yours, his eyes boring into you with a fervour that felt more like ownership than love, played on a loop in your mind.

"Okay," you managed to say, forcing the words past the lump in your throat.

The Kkangpae nodded, satisfied with your answer. "Good. Now off you go, Hoseok's waiting."

You stiffened, your pulse quickening.

"He's awake?" Your voice came out quieter than you intended, barely above a whisper. The Kkangpae raised a brow at your reaction but chose not to comment on it.

"Your breakfast is going to get cold if you stall this even more."

The Kkangpae's words cut through the air, dismissing any further hesitation. His sharp gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he returned to the stack of documents on his desk, signalling that your audience with him was over.

You spotted Hoseok seated at the table, a serene picture of composure, his fingers curled around a steaming cup of coffee he enjoys in the mornings.

He looked up at your approach, his eyes locking onto yours. There was no trace of anger on his face, no sharp edge to his expression. If anything, he seemed calm, almost disarming.

"Hobi—" you started before he quickly interrupted you.

"Sit down," he said a bit more firmer than he'd want to, gesturing to the seat across from him.

You hesitated for a moment before lowering yourself into the chair, acutely aware of the weight of the moment. A plate of food sat before you, untouched. Your stomach churned, but the thought of eating felt impossible.

"Are you?—"

"I'm not mad, no," he cut you off gently, surprising you, as if he knew what you were suggesting before you even managed to let those words roll on your tongue.

"So?—" you echoed hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper. You didn't know what to expect now. Maybe it would be better if he'd be mad and you knew that you have to make it better just like it used to be, instead he is not showing any kind of position in this situation and that was making you uneasy beyond comparison.

Hoseok leaned back in his chair, exhaling deeply.

"You're still here. That's what matters to me for now." He began, his tone measured. For now. Hoseok was always skilled at this—at saying something that sounded kind but felt like a command.

"I panicked," you admitted softly, the honesty slipping out before you could stop it.

"I know, baby, you chose wrong—" he replied, his gaze unwavering.

"—twice," he added fuel to the fire, salt to the wound. But you knew why. He wanted you to submit to him, and he needed to work overtime to do so.

"You need to show me you're willing to make this right, love," you swallowed hard, the tightness in your throat making it nearly impossible to respond. His aura and magnitude of how he could move you however he liked now was overwhelming. You cannot run away, not when he dragged you back to this place instead of his brownstone at 57th street. You're not only under his surveillance here, but the Kkangpae and the rest of the family.

“What’s it gonna be? Cuz’ I can’t fucking pretend anymore–”

His gaze dropped to the table for a moment before he reached into his pocket. You stiffened instinctively, already guessing what he was about to do. Sure enough, his hand emerged clutching the familiar black velvet box. The sight of it made your chest tighten.

"Hoseok," you said softly, your voice trembling with unease. "Please—"

"I don't think I will be so forgiving if you'll choose wrong for a third time, Princess." He ignored your plea, opening the box to reveal the ring again. The one you'd angrily thrown at him that fateful night when he tried to force it down your finger after you explicitly said no to him.

The one that symbolised everything you were not ready to accept, but you had to. It glimmered in the soft light of the room, deceptively beautiful.

"I'm done asking," he said firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. Your breath hitched, but before you could speak, Hoseok reached across the table and took your hand in his. His touch was warm, grounding, yet the weight of his action was suffocating.

You tried to pull your hand back, but his grip tightened—not painfully, but enough to make it clear you weren't going anywhere. With deliberate precision, he slid the emerald ring onto your finger.

"There," he said, his voice softening just enough to send a shiver down your spine. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

You stared at the emerald ring, your mind racing. It looked almost serene on your finger, as if it had always belonged there. Hoseok sat back, satisfied, his lips curling into a faint smile.

Before you could respond, the soft thuds of certain leather shoes announced another arrival.

"Joon-ah!" Hoseok greeted, leaning back in his chair. "I assume there's news?"

Namjoon glanced at you briefly, then back to Hoseok. "Yes. We've made progress with the Anubis situation. The distilleries have been secured, but the reports of interference need attention."

"Anubis situation?" You echoed Namjoon's words. Hoseok's smile didn't falter, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanour. His gaze flicked to you, and for a moment, you thought he might dismiss your question. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his fingers interlacing.

"Nothing for you to worry about," he said smoothly, his voice laced with a quiet finality that suggested the topic was closed.

Namjoon, however, wasn't as careful with his expression. His brow furrowed ever so slightly, a crack in the façade of calm efficiency he usually wore. It was gone as quickly as it came, but you caught it, and it only fuelled your curiosity.

"Anubis is my responsibility, Hoseok, you cannot—" you pressed, your tone sharper now. You'd learned long ago that brushing things under the rug only meant tripping over them later.

"Not anymore."

Hoseok's words cut through the room with an authority that left no room for argument. He leaned back in his chair, exuding an air of complete control, his eyes locked on yours with a quiet intensity.

"What?!" You breathed out rather loudly now.

"Not anymore," he repeated, slower this time as if daring you to challenge him. And challenge him you did.

"Hoseok," you tried again, your voice quieter this time, laced with both frustration and fear. "This isn't—"

"I gotta punish you somehow, Princess," his one was calm, almost casual, but the weight behind his words was anything but. Your stomach churned as his lips curved into a faint, disarming smile—a predator's smile hidden beneath a veil of warmth.

"Punish me?" you repeated, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to steady it. "Exactly for what you gotta punish me, Hoseok?

"For running," he said, the amusement in his voice doing little to soften the hurt he felt inside. "For throwing the ring. For abandoning me this morning after we made love last night—"

You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off with a raised hand. "Don't misunderstand me, Princess. I'm not angry. But actions have consequences."

Your heart pounded against your ribs, the rhythm chaotic and uneven. His calm demeanour made it worse. It took one wide-eyed glance for Namjoon to excuse himself and quickly retreat to Kkangpae's office to leave you two alone.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind Namjoon seemed louder in the heavy silence that followed. Your eyes darted to it, half-hoping for an interruption, but it was futile. Hoseok's gaze was fixed on you, unrelenting and unreadable, trapping you in this moment.

"Hoseok," you began, your voice trembling. "This isn't fair. You can't just—"

"I can," he interrupted his tone steady but brooking no argument. "And I will. You know I don't take betrayal lightly."

"Betrayal?" you repeated, the word stinging as it left your lips. "Is that what you think this is? Hoseok, I—"

"You ran," he said simply, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table. His fingers interlocked, creating a casual posture that only heightened your unease. "You left me, you threw the ring at me, you abandoned what we're building. Call it whatever you want, Princess, but to me? That's betrayal."

Your breath caught, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. "I needed time," you whispered. "Time to think, to—"

No, you needed Mark. But you also needed your best friend.

"Think?" Hoseok's laughter was soft, almost amused, but it didn't reach his eyes. "What is there to think about? You're mine. You've always been mine. And this?" He gestured to the ring now firmly on your finger. "This makes it only official."

"You can't force me to—" you said, the defiance in your voice surprising even you. This was never a discourse you or Hobi ever had. Everything was thought to be just platonic. Not for him.

"To what?" he asked, cutting you off again. His tone was low, dangerously calm. "To wear a ring? To stay by my side? To stop running every time things don't go the way you want?"

You flinched, the truth in his words hitting too close to home. Hoseok sighed, his expression softening just enough to make your heart ache. You were running each time you did not feel like the family was doing you justice. And each time it was Hoseok who came to talk sense into you. But this is different. You are not kids anymore, or teenagers. This is serious. Hoseok is serious this time.

"You know what Anubis means to me—"

"And you still thought it was something you could just walk away from?"

You clenched your fists, your nails biting into your palms as the urge to argue warred with the fear.

"I didn't walk away from Anubis," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I needed space, Hoseok."

"You said you were tired, love."

"You misunderstood—" Hoseok shook his head slowly, cutting you off once again, his gaze hardening.

"I never wanted it to come to this," Hoseok said, his voice softening as he reached across the table, his hand brushing against yours. "But you forced my hand, Princess. And now, you don't get to run anymore. Not from me. Not from us."

"But Anubis—"

"It's still yours. But until you learn your place, Namjoon will suffice."

You bit your lip, caught between the suffocating desire to fight back but all you could do is shut your mouth and obey, telling yourself that this is only temporary.

He was, indeed, not mad.

The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the room as you sat on the edge of a plush velvet chair, your posture tense, fingers gripping the fabric of your dress, as if the soft material of your slip dress that you wore on top of a while turtle neck could shield you from Yoongi's steady gaze.

You couldn't quite remember when the combination of alcohol and antidepressants had become a regular part of your routine, but it had. One to dull the ache, the other to keep the panic at bay. It felt like you were walking a tightrope between relief and disaster. The pills had been prescribed with a promise of healing, but they didn't fix anything, did they? They didn't ease the guilt, the shame, or the sense of being utterly out of control.

And that's precisely why you are sitting in Yoongi's clinic.

Again.

The door opened softly behind you, and your head whipped around, your stomach clenching in a mix of panic and irritation. Hoseok came in after he finished his call, eyes narrowed, lips pressed together in that familiar line of disapproval when Yoongi interrogated you and your well-being this past months.

Not pleasant for both of their ears.

His eyes flicked over to Yoongi, a silent communication passing between the two. You could feel the heat of embarrassment creep up your neck, the shame of being caught in this cycle again pulling at the edges of your pride.

"You've been drinking, and you've been taking your medication," Yoongi said, pretty much summarising what was happening, his voice low but commanding, as he folded his arms across his chest. His usual calm was undercut with a note of frustration. "This combination is dangerous, and you know it. You are being fucking reckless–"

"Well this family makes living that way, so—"

You trailed off, the words hanging in the air, sharp and bitter. You didn't have to look at Yoongi to feel the tension rise, the way his jaw tightened slightly, the subtle flicker of frustration in his gaze. And you didn't have to look at Hoseok, to know he rolled his eyes.

"But we don't use ourselves, not to such extent, Y/N, and you fucking know it."

You winced at Hoseok's words, the sharpness in his voice cutting through you more than you'd like to admit. You had always known that their disapproval wasn't just about the way you led your life these past months, but about how far you had drifted from the person they believed you could be. You were.

"I'm not—" you began, but Yoongi cut you off, his tone flat and unwavering.

"—the choices you're making—this self-destructive pattern—it's not the family's fault. It's not even about the family. This is about you, Princess. About your choices."

You couldn't meet his eyes, couldn't face the depth of his concern, the quiet disappointment in his voice. The truth was, you knew what you were doing wasn't right. The pills, the alcohol, the numbness—it all came with consequences, but they were easier to deal with than the constant whirlpool of guilt and pressure that churned inside your chest every day.

"You don't get it," you muttered, your voice wavering, trying to steady it but failing. "It's hard to breathe sometimes. Everything feels... too much."

"Do you want your liver to fail, sweetheart, or your heart?"

Yoongi's gaze softened, the sharp edge to his features dulling just slightly. "You don't need to numb the pain to survive. You need to face it. And you need to let us take care of you."

"Okay." The word slipped out before you could think about it, the weight of it settling between you all. You couldn't quite believe it, the relief that came from simply acknowledging the truth. It didn't feel like a solution, but it was the first step toward something.

"No more drinking, no more pills—"

The quiet of the room enveloped you for a long moment. The sound of your breathing felt too loud, but somehow, it was a reminder that you were still here. Still breathing.

"And you gotta get you off your birth control too, we do not need additional hormones in your body."

The words hit you like a cold shock, the air in the room suddenly feeling thicker. You blinked, trying to process what Yoongi had just said. His words were muffled by the sounds of Hoseok's Motorola. Excusing himself briefly to pick up yet another call, you stared at Yoongi.

"What?" you breathed, your voice barely a whisper. The thought of changing anything about your routine, especially something so personal, felt like a violation of your fragile sense of control. "Yoongi, I—"

"You heard me," he cut you off, his voice firm but not unkind. "You need a clean slate, and that includes everything. The alcohol, the pills, the hormones. It's all adding to the mess inside you. We need to strip it all down," he spoke, overlooking some of your results that came in this morning.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out at first. Then, the words escaped before you could stop them. "But... you were the one who prescribed it."

"I know," Yoongi replied, his voice calm but firm, his posture never faltering. "And at the time, it made sense. But now? With everything that's going on in your body—"

"Was it his idea?" you cut him off rather bluntly a bit angry with his dishonesty.

Yoongi's gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing as he met yours. There was a moment of silence between you two, the air thick with tension. The weight of your question seemed to hang in the room, the vulnerability of it pressing on your chest. Yoongi took a slow breath before answering, his voice steady but with an edge of something—something you couldn't quite place.

"No," he said simply, his eyes softening just a fraction. "This wasn't Hoseok's call. It was mine."

You felt a knot form in your throat as you processed his words. A part of you wanted to argue, to resist, but another part, the part that had been drowning in self-doubt for months, simply wanted to listen, to let go of the control you had clung to for so long.

"Don't lie to me, Yoongi."

The accusation hung between you, thick with tension. Yoongi's expression flickered, a brief flash of something—guilt, maybe?

"Was it your decision, or not?"

Yoongi stood still for a long moment, his gaze flicking briefly to the side, avoiding your eyes. His fingers clenched around the papers in his hands, and for a brief second, the weight of everything between you seemed to press down on him, too.

"Princess…" he finally breathed out, his voice low but steady.

"It was my decision, but he encouraged it." The flicker of guilt in his eyes, something raw and unguarded, made your chest tighten. You knew what that meant for you but you could not put your five cents on the table right now.

This choice is yours to make. Not Hoseok's.

The Jung Whiskey Distillery stood in the heart of Brooklyn, a looming relic of a bygone era where industrial ambition met old-money elegance. And you found it fucking ironic to be commanded to stop drinking extensively and simultaneously being called to a place that reeks of alcohol.

The building itself was a labyrinth of exposed brick, dark oak barrels stacked high like sentinels. The faint hum of machinery echoed through the cavernous space, blending with the rhythmic drip of amber liquid into hand-labelled bottles, each stamped with the clan's insignia that did not change even after the Kkangpae-ship changed several times over the decades. A dove.

You stepped inside, the heavy scent of whiskey and charred wood assaulting your senses immediately. You blinked against the dim lighting, the golden glow of antique chandeliers barely cutting through the thick shadows. Your Louboutin heels clicked against the worn concrete floor, the sound swallowed by the quiet hum of workers moving methodically through their tasks. Some cast quick, assessing glances your way, but no one said a word. You weren't an unfamiliar face here, after all.

Hoseok was already waiting, leaning against a towering stack of barrels, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable under the soft glow of an overhead lamp. He was dressed in his usual understated elegance—a charcoal suit, crisp white shirt, and a gold signet ring glinting on his finger, a subtle reminder of his place in the family hierarchy.

"If I knew that you'd take time that equals the three meetings I managed to go through, to actually get here, I'd wake you up in the morning and take you with me," he remarked, his voice carrying easily in the quiet space.

"Traffic," you replied coolly, stepping closer. "And I wasn't exactly given much of a choice nonetheless, was I?"

Hoseok smirked, a glint of something dangerous dancing in his eyes. "No, you weren't."

"I need you to sign some documents—" he started.

You stared at the papers in his upstairs' office, anger and frustration bubbling inside you, but you knew the truth. Hoseok wasn't giving you a choice—he'd planned this all along. You'd taken the risk, now you had to pay the price. Your stomach twisted as you read the details—transferring the market representation of Anubis to Namjoon, at least temporarily.

He didn't say anything at first, letting the silence stretch between you. He pulled out the pack of cigarettes after long deliberation and lighted one.

"You want me to sign this?" you asked, your voice carefully neutral.

"I'd hoped you would've learned the consequences of your actions by now—" finally, he spoke, his voice a quiet challenge, "you thought I was bluffing, am I right?"

Hoseok could read you like an open book, and that only pissed you off more.

"Namjoon is going to represent Anubis while you're away, so the market doesn't wait for anyone—"

"What about Peaches?" you had to ask. The girl who always looked up to you and listened when you needed to yap. She had, among others, a precious place in your heart. You knew she was only working for you as a barmaid until she paid off her college, but you were sure the friendship will remain.

Hoseok's lips twitched into a smirk, but there was no humor in it. His gaze lingered on you for a beat too long before he spoke again, his words deliberate.

"You know…—" he began before you cut him off. You know what he's going to say. Namjoon was rather blunt, and the girl was young and naive to ignore it for so long.

"I know—"

"She's not your concern anymore. Not with the way things are going. Namjoon's got his eyes set on her, and trust me, it won't take long before she's out of there, taken care of...in more ways than one."

"But—" you had plans to move he to work for the distilleries instead of the bar. A safer place.

"You've already dug your own grave, love, hers is not yours to lay in." You clenched your jaw. But it is, you thought.

"She'll hate him for it," she might hate you for it. You muttered, but you knew it was futile.

"That's least of your worries now, you know Namjoon's intentions are good, Princess—"

"Now, unless you want to keep playing the martyr, sign the fucking papers." He had you by the throat, and signing was the only way to keep breathing.

You hesitated, fingers tightening around the paper. "And if I don't?"

Hoseok leaned in, his lips curving into something far too amused for your liking. "Then I can take you to City Hall right fucking now and have us sign a marriage license instead. Husband and wife—your signature won't be needed anymore."

Your heart stuttered in your chest, but you schooled your features into indifference.

"You wouldn't."

His smirk widened, eyes glittering with that maddening confidence.

"Keep fucking trying me, love, a little longer." He said through gritted teeth.

Your eyes flicked back to the contract, and with a resigned sigh, you reached for the pen tucked inside.

"That's my Princess."

You hated how much he enjoyed this. He stood up, retrieving the papers and closing the folder in one swift movement. You were getting inside your head when his shiny shoes came into your vision. You raised your eyes to see him standing in the small gap between the table and your chair, looking at you hungrily from above.

"You're tense," he observed, his voice dropping into something softer, something more dangerous. His thumb brushed against your wrist, tracing slow, maddening circles.

"You just made me give it up—" You swallowed hard, willing yourself not to react, but the heat of his touch seeped into your skin.

"As I said, it's still yours, love, you just won't be its main character for a while." He tilted his head, eyes darkening as he leaned in, his breath ghosting over your ear. Your pulse hammered in your throat as his fingers slid up your arm, slow and deliberate. You hated how easily he got under your skin, how much you wanted to push him away and pull him closer all at once. Why were you so messed up in the head?

You took out the pills. He insisted. Yoongi insisted. You don't drink. At least you're trying not to. You have therapy once a week. Everything but that one thing you kept hidden from him. Your suspicions were quite rightly placed when just this morning he cream pied so deep into your cunt, it made you recount your life-span. No condom on.

The scent of whiskey and expensive cologne clouded your senses, making it impossible to think clearly. You momentarily glanced through the window to see the twin building in the distance where Kim's bourbon was made. You wonder if Namjoon's there or in Anubis now. He's got a lot work to do if he now covers both positions.

Before you could retort, he bent down and his mouth claimed yours in a searing kiss, one that left no room for hesitation. Hoseok's fingers wrapped around your wrist to pull you out of your seat and press you into his hard torso. You felt him. Every single inch.

Your hand shot up to his breasts where you laid your palm straight, trying to push yourself from him and ease the pressure he laid on the small of your back from where he was pressing you into the warmth of his body.

You yelped into his mouth when he stood and lifted you effortlessly onto the cold and hard surface of the desk, his hands roaming possessively over your hips.

"You drive me fucking insane, can't keep my hands to myself" he breathed against your lips. His curious fingers trailed down its way to the black slacks you wore today and slipped past the soft material.

You couldn't help but moan into his mouth.

"All I could think about the whole noon was you—under me."

At least, with the miraculous protection of birth control, you can enjoy sex with him. It was not bad. You wish it could be bad lousy sex but he knew damn well what buttons to push to let you see stars and scream his name. This was your new dose of drugs. Him and his gorgeous body. He knew that the line between him being your best friend was cut into small fragile pieces the moment you sat on his face that night he did not only trick you into his bed but kept you in his life. Forever. And Ever.

It felt oddly right.

Every kiss, every brush of his hand, felt like a promise—one that wasn't going to be broken.

Unlike this table.

It was several weeks later when the little peace you made with this arrangement was shattered as quickly as you built the walls around you.

The twisted branches of bare trees stretch upward like desperate hands, clawing at the sky, trying to touch something they can never reach. The heavens above seem to hum with a strange mystery, an almost suffocating weight in the air.

Beneath your feet, the fallen leaves crackle and crunch, a brittle reminder of the cold that's creeping in, claiming everything it touches. The frost is starting to settle in again, coating the world with a layer of death, a silent witness to the dying season. The peak of winter is coming, relentless and unforgiving, a season full of hidden traps and painful truths.

From a distance, you hear the haunting echo of a raven's call. It cuts through the stillness, adding to the quiet beauty of this desolation. The air feels heavy, thick with something unspoken, something unsettling. You inhale deeply, trying to push away the unease, but it lingers, like a shadow that refuses to leave.

Your eyes flutter shut, trying to hold on to the fragile calm of the moment, but the silence is broken. The crinkle of newspaper reaches your ears, followed by the faint scent of coffee. You open your eyes, slowly, and see Hoseok sitting at the table, his face absorbed in the pages, the kind of concentration that could swallow him whole. His lips are pursed, his brow furrowed, the weight of the world hidden behind those simple movements. He trimmed his hair a little. They were becoming a bother. He said to you when you asked. Nothing major though, just a little change. Not everyone could sport a mullet like Jung Hoseok could. It was such a trivial thing to do but you kept thinking about how your fingers instinctively ran through his soft locks. You liked them long. Is what you said to him and he gave you his shiny smile that you were soft for, in response.

You sigh, your gaze drifting from him to the empty garden around you. The air feels colder now, the frost creeping deeper into your bones. You tug the fur blanket tighter around you. You need fresh air. Yeah well, not in fucking cold January, you don’t. He insisted. For you, for your health. Hoseok, oblivious to your internal storm, shifts the newspaper in his hands. His fingers grasp and release it as he turns the page, his eyes never leaving the print. He's lost in the world of politics, and you're stuck here, in your own head, unable to break free.

"What is it?" he asks, his voice not quite reaching you. The question feels distant, like it's meant for someone else. You take a sip from your coffee mug, the New York City skyline etched in its design, trying to ground yourself in something, anything.

"Nothing," you murmur, but the words feel like a lie even to you.

You still did not know how to feel. You, of course, were still playing with the narrative you created in your head, that you do not want to get married. Hoseok’s not the problem. He never was. Only the cursed piece of paper that will bind you to him for eternity, as this family still worships and protect marriages, is what you’re afraid of. Why? You’re pushing thirty. You are expected to settle. But how can someone like you settle? You still dream of a boy who is no longer walking among living, a man who fucked you over, now that no pills are clouding your mind. And that’s another thing.

How can you have kids after you poisoned your body with so many things? Yoongi recited the report to you and Hoseok, his lips in thin line after he finished, the verdict was clear. Cleanse. In private. They believed in the strength of your young body to recover swiftly and splurt out heirs, just like that. Don’t be mistaken, you were never addicted enough or now you’d be in asylum if you were. You just needed a reality check. But that did not include your boyfriend with a hole in his head and gun in his hand.

Then there was this tiny feeling of betrayal. You felt like you were betraying Mark each time you spread your legs for Hoseok to bury himself deep inside of you. What’s worse. You enjoyed it like this is how it was always supposed to be–

–the sound of paper crunch tears you from your stream of consciousness. Hoseok makes a ball from the newspaper with a deliberate slowness, the sound harsh against the stillness of the room. There must have been something he did not fancy to see. Your rough guess, it’s the pretty journalist that questions every step of Kim Seokjin. Your family consigliere.

He meets your gaze, eyes softening with an unspoken question.

"Are you sure?" His voice is more insistent now, a slight edge to it as his hand reaches out, crossing the distance between you. You want to pull away, but you don't, he would never harm you. Not you.

"I don't want to get married,... yet," you say it with a finality, and rather bluntly, a decision made in the quiet chaos of your heart. You did not know why that thought came out loud. "I don't think I'm ready—"

"We talked about that already, baby" he says, his voice cold, as he releases your hand and strides toward the house, his back turned to you. The distance between you feels unbearable now, the space between your hearts widening with every step he takes.

"No! You talked about it!" you shout after him, your voice cracking as the frustration rises within you. The words feel like a plea, a desperate attempt to make him hear the truth, but it seems to vanish into the bitter wind that bites at your skin.

He doesn't turn around. He doesn't need to. The weight of the silence is enough, and you're left alone in the garden, with only the sound of your own pulse hammering in your ears.

You prop your elbow on the table and rest your chin in your hand, staring into the weak morning sun, trying to chase away the thoughts swirling in your mind. After a moment, you reach for the other copy of newspaper, flipping to the art section where the golden maknae's face is pictured. He's allowed to stay a bachelor, why not you? A bachelorette leaves a bad taste in your mouth though. Sounds cringey.

A quiet voice from the door interrupts your focus.

"You'd better look at the wedding dress catalogue instead," your cousin's voice cuts through the air, light with a teasing lilt. You two were never as close as one would say. But that's because you spent the majority of your childhood with Hoseok. Sometimes Namjoon and Yoongi.

You glance up at him, meeting his dark eyes. That man seriously needs to find his own woman. He needs to do it soon, as he is just as annoying when he doesn't get laid. She could put up with it, instead of you.

"I'm all hot!" you retort, a smirk pulling at your lips as you add the bite of irony to your words, hoping he'll catch the sarcasm.

He grins, unbothered. "Can I see for myself?" His playful challenge hangs in the air, and you can't help but roll your eyes.

"Fucking gross, Taehyung!" You splurt out, grimacing.

"Just kidding, Princess," he says, raising his hands in mock surrender. He glances at you with a wry smile. "You should start looking for them though, unless you want to get married in your pajamas." His gaze lingers on your nightwear, and you fight the urge to blush.

"Hoseok already asked Jimin to have one of his designers on it." You murmur, wishing to not acknowledge how beautiful the designs were.

"Dior… fancy," he whistled.

You shake your head and turn your attention back to the newspaper, but then a loud slam comes from the second floor. Your eyes dart to the open glass door, half-expecting Hoseok to walk back in. A few moments later, he does, but this time, he's holding a white box, throwing it onto the table with a sharp gesture.

"What's this?" he asks, his brow furrowed.

You glance at the box and read the label out loud. "Birth control."

Hoseok's expression hardens instantly, and he steps forward, hands on his hips. "I fucking know what it is," he snaps, his voice low and tense. "But why the fuck are you taking it?"

You swallow, trying to keep your composure and play dumb. That it just might have slipped from your mind to put it out.

"Well, usually, birth control is taken to—"

He cuts you off, his frustration clear. "I fucking know why it's taken, but why the fuck are you still taking it, Y/N?"

You hesitate, unsure of how to answer, but you find the courage to speak. Hoseok would get it out of you nonetheless. Why lie.

"Because I noticed that when you were fucking me—"

"You mean making love," he interrupts, his voice softer now, but still laced with tension.

"Making love,—" you repeat, your lips tight, trying to hide the amusement and disregard the severity of this situation. Him dicking you down until you are nothing but whimpering mess was hardly tender loving. He nods in agreement, and you try not to feel self-conscious.

"—You keep ditching the condom," you add, voice trembling slightly. You're nervous, but you don't back down. “So I just wanted to be careful–”

"Does that matter?" he asks, an eyebrow quirked in disbelief as he takes a step closer to you.

"Well, considering I don't wanna get pregnant, and I doubt you do—"

He cuts you off again, his words sharp. "What if I want you to get pregnant?"

The shock hits you like a cold wave. You blink, your heart racing, your mind spinning. You want to respond, but the words freeze in your throat.

"It's not only up to you," you finally manage, folding your arms across your chest, trying to steady yourself. But Hoseok isn't backing down.

"No?" he asks, tilting his head slightly, a challenge in his gaze.

Before you can say another word, he grabs your elbow, pulling you toward him with surprising force, his chest pressing against yours. The heat of his body is overwhelming, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. The distance between you is gone, and all you can do is stare at him, unsure of what to do next.

The words feel like they hang in the air, suffocating, as he inspects every inch of your body. His gaze is heavy and possessive, and it crawls under your skin, making you feel exposed in ways you can't quite put into words.

"I think the fuck yeah," he says, a slow smirk pulling at his lips.

"Since the fuck when?" you force the words out, the sigh caught between your teeth, as you try to mask the unease creeping through you.

"Since we made it official," he whispers, his voice dark, lips hovering just above yours, as though he's claiming you in ways that go beyond the physical.

"Hoseok, honey, I don't belong to you, I'm not a bitch that you can breed," you grind out, trying to push back, to assert yourself, but your body betrays you, reacting to his touch.

"Aren't you?" His laugh sends a shiver down your spine, and before you can pull away, his hand moves to your ass, squeezing hard, sending a shock of pain that morphs into something else—something dangerously close to pleasure.

You cock your head, trying to make sense of the rush of conflicting emotions, but Hoseok doesn't wait. He presses his lips to your neck, soft butterfly kisses that leave a trail of heat in their wake.

"You sound different when I'm buried deep down in your pretty cunt."

"Hobi—," you moan his name involuntarily, rather surprised by his blunt behaviour than actual excitement, and your hand instinctively reaching for his chest, as if you could push him away, but instead, you draw him even closer. He likes to test where your boundaries lay. And he likes to do it each time he gets you alone and all to himself.

"Now, that's my name you're moaning, isn't it?" he asks, his voice teasing, fingers now shifting to your breast, kneading it with a possessive grip. You gasp, feeling the tension coil tighter inside you as his lips continue their slow, deliberate journey from your neck to your lips. When his kiss meets yours, it's tender—almost too tender—but it pulls away too soon, leaving you breathless, hungry for more.

His hand still rests on your bottom, and your pulse races as he reaches for the white box on the table. You know what it is, and your heart drops into your stomach.

"You know what we're going to do with this?" he asks, his eyes dark, unreadable.

"Hobi, no, please," you beg, your voice weak, desperate, trying to hold onto the last shred of control you have.

"Not this time, Princess," he replies, as though he's trying to convince himself more than you.

"Please Hobi, we have time for that" you clutch his hand, the one holding the box, your grip tight as if you could keep it from happening.

"We ain't little kids anymore," he mutters, his voice cold as he pulls you toward the door, but you resist, shaking your head as he drags you toward the living room.

“Just because we skipped the whole girlfriend-boyfriend phase, it doesn’t mean that–” you trailed behind him, trying to plead with him, but when you see the fireplace you panic.

"NO, DON'T DO THIS, PLEASE!" you shout, panic rising in your chest, but the sounds of Yoongi's and Taehyung's voices drift from the dining room, too far away to help, but close enough to hear.

Hoseok doesn't listen, doesn't stop. He moves as if this is inevitable. He opens the fireplace door, adding wood and paper into the flames with mechanical precision. The white box sits on the hearth, waiting for its fate. You know what's coming, but you can't stop it.

Before he can pick up the box, you do, clutching it to your chest, your pulse pounding in your ears.

Hoseok stops, eyes narrowing, his voice low and controlled. "Y/N, give me the box," he says, his hand extended toward you, his patience wearing thin. You hide the box behind your back, shaking your head, the desperation pooling in your chest.

"Don't do it," you plead, but your voice shakes, and you know it won't be enough to change his mind. It never is. Your heart pounds and the sound fills your ears as you fight to breathe through the rising panic.

“No need for dramatics, I can fucking buy new one, Hobi–”

You hear Yoongi and Taehyung murmur in the background, they're talking, oblivious to the tension in the room, distracted by the box, by its contents. They must have missed the giant label that clearly states so, but the realization hits you too late. In the corner of your eye you can see Yoongi bring his hand to the bridge of his nose and sigh very loudly before he readies himself to speak on your behalf. It's already too late.

"You always know how to piss me off like that!" Hoseok snaps, frustration boiling over. "You're such a brat! Why can't you just do what I ask for once?" For once? He throws his hands up, fury in his eyes.

“Well you didn’t really bother to discuss it with me, why should I?” You snap and Hoseok’s face momentary shows guilt.

"Hoseok—" Yoongi begins to step over to his younger brother, trying to intervene, but Hoseok's swift hand movement stops him in his tracks, his frustration too raw for anyone to touch.

"Don't, fucking, don't!—" he screams his way. Hoseok is fuming.

"How dare you take this from me!" His hands fly up in the air, his chest heaving with the intensity of his words. The heat of his anger crashes over you, and you feel yourself shrinking under the force of it, knowing that nothing will calm him down now. When did he become such a lunatic? Over this?

"You fucking prescribed that shit to her!" He throws his hands up, fury in his eyes. As if Yoongi had any jurisdiction over you.

"You did that!" His eyes are wide, furious, and filled with an undeniable betrayal. And with that accusation, the room feels like it's closing in on you, the weight of everything sinking in deeper.

"Hoseok, I was taking that, years prior, it's not that easy to just stop—" Your voice trembles as you try to find the words, but they're heavy as if the room itself is pressing against your chest. You know it won't make a difference. You know that nothing you say will ever be enough to calm the storm he's become. Hoseok's eyes widen with disbelief, the fury in them turning almost desperate. He steps closer, his breath coming in quick, ragged gasps.

"She was supposed to be off the pill, Hyung! You said she is!" Hoseok's voice cracks as he turns to Yoongi, his anger now laced with something else—desperation, hurt. His words are jagged, the tension in the air so thick you can feel it pressing against your skin.

Yoongi freezes, his eyes flicking between the two of you, the reality of the situation settling in. His hand stays on the bridge of his nose, massaging it as though he can physically take the tension away. But there's no escaping it now, no way to undo what's been said.

"Yoongi-hyung," Hoseok snaps, his voice raw, pleading for an explanation he knows isn't coming. "What the fuck is going on? Why is she still on it?"

You can feel the weight of Hoseok's gaze on you, the accusation in his eyes piercing through the space between you. The betrayal is there, raw and unrelenting, and it stings, more than you ever thought it would. You want to scream, to lash out, but the words don't come. Instead, you're frozen, caught in the quiet storm of their confrontation.

"I didn't know," Yoongi's voice is quieter now, regret creeping in. He looks at you, his expression softening, but it doesn't help. The damage is done. "I withdrew that prescription. I thought she stopped."

Now he turned back to your petite form and the box in question that was the last resort of your independence here. It's just a symbol now, a trigger, a reminder of how everything has shattered in the blink of an eye.

"And why exactly did her highness not listen to her doctor?!"

You try to step back, but you can't. There's nowhere to go. "I didn't think it mattered," you whisper, your hands trembling at your sides. A lie and the weight of the lie you've been carrying sits on your shoulders like a thousand tons.

"I never thought it was something you'd need to know or cared for, at least not for a while."

Hoseok stares at you, his gaze burning through you like a hot brand. "It fucking matters," he spits, his voice sharp and cruel "and I fucking care." Yoongi threw an apologetic look your way when he sensed that this was only going to get uglier, and it would be more humiliating for you if they remained in the room.

"You think I don't care? You think I don't have a right to know? Clean slate from everything, remember?" His voice rises again, and the room seems to shrink around you.

“Hobi–” you attempted to speak to him.

"Each time we made love, I hoped you'd eventually come to tell me I'm going to be a daddy,"

Hoseok's voice trembles with raw emotion, and you feel the weight of his hopes crashing down on you. The air in the room feels thick, suffocating, as his gaze pierces you, demanding an answer you don't know how to give.

"But you were hiding this from me. You were keeping it from me, Y/N. How could you?" His voice breaks on the last words, and for a brief moment, he looks like he might collapse under the weight of his own feelings.

"I thought… I thought it wasn't important now. That we had time."

Hoseok's eyes narrow, his lips curling into a bitter smile. "Time? Time for what, Y/N? Time to keep me in the dark while you do whatever the hell you want? To fucking run again?" His voice rises, thick with frustration. So this is it, he wanted you tied to him beyond marriage.

"I trusted you. I trusted us. It's just you and me for eternity, Y/N."

“It’s not even about that fucking birth control, it’s about you keeping things from me.”

You swallow hard, your throat tight. You never imagined things would escalate like this. The silence in the room is unbearable, and the weight of Hoseok's words crushes any attempt at defence.

“You are supposed to confide in me. I’m your person.”

"I wanted this, Y/N," he continues, his voice a raw whisper, filled with a kind of hurt you never thought he was capable of showing. "I want to build a future with you."

His words feel like daggers, piercing straight through your chest, and you feel the walls around you closing in.

"You should have talk to me about that." You want to scream, to fight back, but all that comes out is a weak, strangled sob.

"Do you even know what you've done?" he whispers, almost to himself, as if the weight of it all is just now sinking in. "Do you even know what this means?"

You want to explain, but you can't find the words. The room is too small, the air too thick with the unspoken truths hanging between you all. And in that moment, you realize that nothing you say will ever undo what's been done.

"I was not feeling ready, Hobi–"

Hoseok's eyes burn with a mixture of frustration and desperation as he steps closer, his hand still extended toward you, demanding the box. You know what he's going to do, but that knowledge does nothing to ease the dread that grips you.

“We could have discuss this–” but he was not listening anymore.

"Give it to me," he commands, his voice low, filled with an edge that makes your heart race. The space between you two is closing, and there's nowhere left to retreat.

You grip the box tighter, pressing it against your chest as if it's the only thing keeping you anchored. "No, Hoseok," you breathe, but your voice is weak, trembling under the weight of the moment. "You don't understand."

His gaze sharpens, and in an instant, he's on you, his hands grasping at yours, trying to pry the box from your fingers. You stumble back, but he's faster and stronger, and you feel the heat of his body as he presses you against the wall. You gasp for breath, your heart pounding in your throat.

"No!" you cry out, but your words are drowned by his relentless grip, pulling at your hands, forcing you to let go. The box is slipping, and before you can stop it, Hoseok has it in his hands, clutching it like it's the last thing that matters.

You try to push him away, your palms meeting his chest with a desperate shove, but he's unfazed. With a low growl of frustration, he jerks his head toward the fireplace, his expression wild.

Without a second thought, Hoseok strides over to the fire, the box gripped tightly in his hands. You lunge forward, but it's too late. He reaches the hearth, throws the box into the flames, and it disappears with a soft crackle.

"No!" you scream, your voice raw, the loss of control hitting you like a punch to the gut. You're too late to stop him.

Hoseok stands there for a moment, his back to you, his shoulders rigid with anger. The firelight flickers in his eyes as he watches the box burn. "You wanted to hide this from me," he says, his voice harsh, filled with finality. "Well, now, it's hidden better."

You're frozen, watching the box slowly disintegrate into ash. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, the realization settling heavily in your chest. It's done. There's no taking it back now. Everything you tried to keep from him, it's all out in the open.

You open your mouth, but no words come. There's nothing to say. You didn't expect this—didn't expect him to take the box and throw it into the flames like it meant nothing to him. But it does. It means everything to him.

"If you think you can go and get another one, think again—" Hoseok turns to face you, his expression unreadable, his jaw clenched tight.

"Because you ain't leaving this fucking house anymore."

A tear escapes down your cheek before you can stop it, and you wipe it away hastily, still trapped in the suffocating silence of the room. Everything feels wrong, everything feels too much, and you don't know how to make it right. You want to scream, to tell him how unfair this is, but you can't find your voice anymore.

Hoseok's gaze softens just slightly, but it doesn't bring comfort. If anything, it only makes the storm raging within you feel even more intense.

What a good start of 1996.

It was quite a few silent weeks, and although the poetics of “never go to bed angry” was quite overrated, Hoseok seemed to cling to it. You wish you could speak again. It was enough that you were apparently and are under house arrest. The moment you tried to step out of the front door, you were turned on your heel immediately. So you got the memo rather quickly.

Now yes, you are exaggerating a little. Rightfully so, you almost went to fucking knit a sweater being cooped up in here. Even the enormous sunroom full of flowers of every kind felt small after you spent the majority of the days there.

Hoseok’s father keeps himself at his side of the lovely and vast Jung manor and you find yourself not wanting to be in his company for majority of the time. But after weeks of silent breakfasts, lunches and dinners, you found yourself in his quarters to plead to give Hoseok some wisdom. He cannot be mad at you for keeping something to yourself. You were being responsible, and this is what you got in return. It was okay until there wasn’t a ring on your finger and the one fucking you, Hoseok.

Yet, as you stood in the dimly lit hallway of the east wing, the heavy scent of cigar smoke clinging to the air, responsibility felt like a frail excuse. Especially in this family. You neared the slightly open mahogany door of his office when you heard their voices. You halted. Listening.

“The boy’s still angry,” came the rasp of Hoseok’s grandfather.

You hadn’t realized he was in the estate today, now nestled in one of the armchairs, a relic of another era draped in a thick wool blanket. His voice was softer, but the words carried weight.

“Wouldn’t blame him. He did what was necessary, and she went and questioned him for it.”

You frowned. Hoseok cannot be seriously this angry over something so… so fixable, right?

You should have stepped inside. You should have asked what they meant. Instead, your mind spun in circles, grasping at the words and the meaning hidden between them.

“That runaway little gangster decided to fuck his way into this world, so he paid the price.”

Your breath hitched.

Paid the price?

Your grip tightened on the doorframe, pulse hammering against your ribs. The words settled uneasily in your chest, a slow-burning fuse winding its way toward something you weren’t sure you wanted to understand.

“Tuan made his choice when stole from her.”

Mark.

Your stomach twisted. The name struck like the lash of a whip, sharp and stinging because it had been weeks since you’d allowed yourself to even think about him. You can’t reopen the wound. You forced yourself to stay rooted in place, to not stumble backwards as the realization clawed at your skin.

Your hands trembled at your sides, nails digging into your palms, your body urging you to move—to burst into that room and demand the truth. But something held you back. A small, fragile piece of you that was terrified of the confirmation.

Hoseok swore to you he has nothing to do with it nor he knows who it might be. So you opted to believe that perhaps it was one of the family heads, or maybe someone from outside who wanted to make an example that you are not untouchable. Maybe it was someone who you openly declined to purchase their booze and serve it in Anubis. Maybe, just maybe, he did kill himself.

But that’s not the Mark you knew, and after years of seeing this family stage murders, you knew better than to think it was a suicide. Nor did you want believe that, as the recounting of books showed, he or someone was stealing from you. But the only person that would manage to steal from you without your immediate knowing, was him. So you tried to hate him instead of grieving his death for a while. It did not work out. But it did sure opened doors for Hoseok.

Hoseok and his family, your family, had a motive but you refused to let yourself think he is dead because of you. Why did you not urge the police to investigate further? It would put you on the radar. You would have to hand out those incredibly illegal books over at some point. You were not a saint. Obviously you were not as far down as Hoseok or Namjoon and certainly not Taehyung. Your role was a bit cleaner, but not holy at all.

If all those demons that you’ve sent to their death while carefully watching and listening in over the years did not come to hunt you, why now, why Mark? Why’d they speak about him now.

“It was the right decision to eliminate him.”

Your body felt cold, your fingers numb as you forced yourself to step away, away from the door, away from the truth you had just heard spill so carelessly from their lips. Your mind raced. If he lied about this, what else had he lied about?

You needed to leave.

“For her own good.”

Even just for a moment.

You needed to get out, away from this house. You could figure out the rest later, but right now, the walls were closing in, and you couldn’t breathe. You had never wanted to leave, leave before. Not really. Not permanently. But that didn’t mean you didn’t know how.

The question is, though, do you want to?

When you were younger, you had your ways—slipping through unnoticed places, sneaking past locked doors, bending rules until they cracked just enough to let you through. You hadn’t used those skills in years, but desperation was an excellent teacher.

So you ran.

Slipping through the estate grounds, through a route you remembered from your teenage years, your heart pounded louder than your footsteps against the pavement.

A taxi to the downtown. A subway later to get to 59 Street Columbus Circle.

Central Park was quiet at this hour, the city humming in the distance. You walked, your breath fogging in the cool air, your mind spinning in endless circles. You weren’t stupid—Hoseok would know soon enough that you were gone. And when he did, you knew exactly what would happen.

You could almost picture it. The calls. The orders. The silent, well-oiled machine of his influence clicking into place, mobilizing to track you down. It wasn’t fear that kept you moving. It was inevitable. Because you knew one truth above all else: Hoseok never let anything that belonged to him get away. But you wanted to make a point. That you can be gone if you want to.

Right now, you weren’t sure if you were running from him… or to him.

You sat down on a cold bench, eyeing the Plaza that you realised you never stayed in, your whole life. Why would you, right? No, that’s where he would track you down when you had your tour de bar short lived era, counting in Anubis.

You did not want to abandon Anubis, nor did you want to give Namjoon to boss it around. You pleaded hard enough to have something in this family other than pussy between your legs that would throw up heirs. Women in this family do not work. Not usually. But you, growing up with the mighty seven, knew a bit more about how this world functions, thus when you proposed to be the eyes and ears, they considered it. When you proposed you wanted a bar, a place where lips could go loose with the right booze, they considered a bit more.

And that’s how you got to be the owner of Anubis on the borders of Manhattan and the Bronx.

Everyone who entered was watched, catalogued, and, when necessary, reported and the threat eliminated. It had always been a place of control. Yours. But now, standing outside in the cold, you realized how little of it you truly had anymore.

A god of the afterlife, guardian of lost souls.

Poetic, you always were.

But it was your place, and you wanted it back. You made it what it is now and it made you. You did not want to be a housewife or an arm candy for Hoseok. Nor your desire was to leave the syndicate.

No.

You grew up here. This was who you were. And you would not abandon it again because Jung Hoseok decided to step into different shoes in your life or that Mark was now dead. He wasn't with you from the start, you handled it just well without him.

No.

If you have to go through this fucking marriage, you’ll do it your way.

You returned before sunset, slipping back onto the estate grounds just as the first hints of dusk kissed the horizon. But the moment you stepped inside, the air was different. Tense. Hushed conversations snapped into silence the second they saw you. Guards were stationed at the exits. Hoseok’s men were in motion immediately.

“Namjoon?-” He echoed to the flip phone when his eyes met yours on the edge of the living room. “Abort the mission, she’s home.”

He shut the flip phone down and motioned with his free hand to send the soldiers to their original posts. Only then hew threw it on the plush of the white sofa.

“Where the hell have you been, Princess.” He gritted through his teeth, still standing by the conference table, keeping his distance even though he wanted to close it, and cradle your face and kiss your full lips. To reward you for your comeback.

Your pulse pounded, your breath shallow, but your voice—your voice was steady.

“Tell me, Hoseok.”

You took a step forward, the distance between you closing like the pages of a book snapping shut.

“Say it to my face and swear that you did not kill him, and-” he pulled his tall built body slightly back at your straightforwardness and his eyes reflected a little wave of shock that was quickly exchanged with understanding.

Hoseok understood why you ran from this house now. You could have done it before, as it did not take you long to slip out. But he also was glad that after all, you did not want to.

“And?” He urged you to continue. To finish what you started.

“-and I’ll fucking marry you.”

And you needed him to tell you that you were wrong.

And you needed him to lie, just this once, so you could keep pretending.

And you needed him to be the man you had loved before all of this. Before Mark.

His eyes flickered, something dark passing through them before his expression smoothed over. His lips parted slightly, but no words came. This is what he wanted? You on a silver platter. You accepting this union.

Your chest tightened, the air punched from your lungs as you searched his face, desperate for something—anything—to grasp onto. A lie. A denial. Even anger would have been better than this.

You have to bury Mark for good to be with Hoseok.

Hoseok stared at you, his jaw tight, his lips slightly parted as if he was weighing something—choosing something. You could see the war in his eyes, a storm threatening to break, but then…

Then he exhaled, slow and steady, before stepping closer.

His hand lifted to your face, fingers ghosting over your jaw, his touch light but grounding.

“I didn’t kill him,” he said, the words deliberate, carefully measured. “I swear it.”

Your breath caught.

There it was. The answer you needed. The answer you had demanded.

And yet…

It was too perfect. Too clean. The kind of lie that had been rehearsed in the mirror, the kind that fit too well in a mouth that had learned to bend the truth into something beautiful.

But you wanted to believe him. Believe that he did not push the trigger. You’d rather live without the knowledge of who exactly had done it and under whose command.

It does not matter anymore. It’s in the past and Hoseok is your present and future.

You needed to believe him as Mark is never coming to save you from this horseshit you got yourself into right now and whatever reason he had to steal from you doesn’t matter anymore. He is not coming back and it is Hoseok’s arms you’re in this time.

His lips brushed against yours, hesitant at first—like he was giving you a chance to change your mind, to turn away before the lie settled between you. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

You kissed him back, hard and fast, your fingers twisting into his shirt as if anchoring yourself to him would somehow make it real. That if you kissed him deep enough, long enough, it would drown out the whisper in the back of your mind that said this isn’t the truth.

Hoseok groaned against your mouth, his grip tightening, his body pressing into yours like he could make you forget. Like he could mould the lie into something tangible, something that felt like love instead of deception.

You let him.

Because believing was easier than knowing.

"I love you."

You sway to the beat of Material Girl as you make coffee in the kitchen, the rhythm of the music pulling you deeper into your thoughts. Suddenly, you feel his arms wrap around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder. His lips brush your neck lightly, sending a shiver down your spine.

"There is a charity gala tonight," he murmurs, his voice low, warm against your skin. You frown, your movements slowing as confusion clouds your mind. You were allowed to leave occasionally under his strong supervision, which meant that your hand was sweaty in his when he held you for dear life, whenever, wherever. Especially after you went for the little walk in Central Park and did not show up until the sunset.

"What does that have to do with me?" you ask, turning slightly to face him. You were back to being you, at least a little. Step by step. His touch tightens around your waist, a subtle reassurance that he's still there. Even though your little emotional exchange, a few months ago, you were still determined to play this game your way. He wants something? You want something too.

"Well, as my lovely bride, you're going with me," he says, a playful glint in his eyes. He presses a soft kiss to your neck, but you don't feel it this time—not in the way you usually do. Keeping you here like mother hen turned you and your cheeks waiting to be clapped each time Hoseok finished his work day. And if not, your hands wandered around your body while you read a book that had some spice inside. Out of boredom yes. You were just a girl after all.

"Terminate the house arrest, first." You smiled sweetly. Step one, have free reign where and when you leave this house.

"No–" you did not even let him start when you interrupted him.

"Would you like some too?" you ask, ignoring him, You continue making the coffee, your hands suddenly trembling.

"Aren't you listening to me?" His voice is sharp now, a mix of frustration and confusion. He pulls away, the distance between you suddenly feeling cold.

"I'm listening, you were talking about an event," you respond, your eyes not meeting his as you pour hot water into the cup.

"I bought you the Versace dress you liked," he adds, trying again, his tone softening. You let out a breath, the bitterness of it mixing with the heat of the coffee.

"But I cannot go out myself, can I?" you ask, your voice quieter now. The smell of fresh coffee fills the air, but it does nothing to calm the tension between you.

"Are you not listening to me at all?" His voice rises again, this time you can feel the anger building. You don't respond right away, the silence thickening.

"Are you listening?" You retort, smiling wickedly.

You walk to the living room, coffee in hand, the distant hum of the television buzzing in the background. The controller feels cold in your hand as you press the red button to turn on the TV, trying to drown out the noise inside your head.

"I'm sorry your highness, I forgot you love to negotiate," he says, his voice laced with irritation.

You glance at him. His hands shake as he gestures vaguely in the air, trying to explain himself. You roll your eyes, frustration bubbling in your chest.

"You’ve put me under house arrest," you mutter, shaking your head, and taking a sip of the coffee. But before you can savour it, he raises his voice again, and the hot liquid splashes over your denim jeans, soaking into the fabric. You wince, the sting of the coffee mixing with the burn of his words.

"You!-" He started but rather opted to bite his inner cheek than to admit that indeed he could've lifted the house arrest, the moment you said you will marry him. He only lets you go out when it benefits him. But you trusted the process.

"Me?" your hand shot to your heart, acting surprised.

"You're going to put that dress on and come with me at six," he demands, his tone sharp, commanding. He turns on his heel, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the room. You want to smash something, anything, just to get the frustration out.

"Oh so now I can go outside of this house?!"

The tension from the earlier fight still lingers between you. Hoseok's hand rests on your thigh, his touch possessive, but it doesn't bring comfort.

"Did I tell you you're stunning?" Hoseok's voice is soft, low, as he leans closer, his breath warm against your ear. You did put on the dress he bought for you, they were too pretty to leave on the hanger. The sleek, satin slip dress in a light lavender shade. Parade in front of him and threatened to not leave if he does not lift the house arrest first. And you maybe played him dirty when you declared you won’t let him get this dress off you tonight. I have to punish you somehow. You told him. Of course he obliged. Men.

The dress is form-fitting, featuring thin spaghetti straps and a deep, elegant neckline. It drapes smoothly over your figure, exuding an air of sophistication and effortless glamour. As fitted for today’s spring charity gala. Scratch that. Old money rich shitty man gala. Nothing to do with charity, they just needed a reason to throw a party every year.

"Today or since you decided you want to play husband and wife with me instead of being my best friend?" you dare to tease him, even though you already settled that matter, at least partially, your voice edged with sarcasm, knowing he doesn't care about your answer as much as he cares about drawing you in with his touch. The atipique black dress shirt he’s wearing under the suit jacket reveal the his torso to your wondering eyes.

“I’m still your best friend, baby.”

You feel him smile against your skin as he nuzzles your neck, his hand slipping up to rest on your waist. His touch is gentle at first, but it soon deepens into something more—something possessive.

“Sure you are, especially when you bend me over tables.” You whispered, trying to tease him. His tongue slides into your mouth, tasting you, claiming you in a way that makes your heart race.

“Do I really need to listen to that–”

"--Can't you save that drama for when you get home? It's giving old news already—" a voice interrupts, cutting through the moment. The dark-haired handsome man across from you, Kim Seokjin, looks at the two of you with a raised brow.

"Don't be jealous, Jin-hyung," Hoseok cuts him off, but it's clear he's irritated. "You'll find someone one day to match your narcissistic ass. How's that wannabe Nancy Drew doing?"

You shift slightly, pulling away from Hoseok, but his hand remains firm on your thigh.

"Still working on it," Seokjin mutters, giving Hoseok a dirty look. You knew who they were talking about, but Hoseok said he won't intertwine with the media unless it will be a direct threat. That's why above mentioned she was roaming around trying to dig and dig but nowhere near to find the bottom of the pit.

The car stops suddenly, jolting you from your thoughts, and you blink as if waking up from a dream. The flash of cameras outside the car window hits you like a wave, sharp and blinding, and you feel Hoseok's grip tighten around you as he pulls you closer, as though trying to shield you from it all.

The car stopped and we started to make our way out. The first thing that hit you was the flashes of the cameras. Hoseok pulled you close to him and together with Seokjin and the security guard you walked inside.

You step out of the car, the air thick with flashes and the pressure of eyes on you. His hand doesn't leave your back as the two of you walk inside, and though you want to resist, you can't help but feel the pull of his presence, like gravity, like you're being drawn into his orbit.

He's in his element here, greeting people with a smile, his charm effortlessly lighting up the room. He makes you smile, too, almost involuntarily, as he introduces you to yet another guest.

"This is my significant other, Y/N," he says, his voice carrying the weight of ownership, and something in your chest tightens, a mix of emotions—anger, confusion, and something else, something darker you don't want to name. You lost a trace of Seokjin some time ago and a part of you wishes for him to be here, you would not feel as thrown to the wolves as you do now. You don't blame him though, you used to do exactly the same thing when you were not what you are now. Take a bottle and vanish for an hour or two.

“What is it?” Hoseok asked you after few rounds of dances to some forties jazz music after he could not get a word out of you. He leaned in, close enough for you to feel his breath against your skin, a whisper in the midst of the music. Hoseok noticed the way your gaze kept flickering around the room, the way your smile was distant, almost mechanical.

After the rounds of dancing and mingling, he couldn't take it anymore. Your silence, your unspoken thoughts gnawing at the edges of the night, it made him uneasy. This wasn’t how you were supposed to be. You were supposed to be laughing, teasing, maybe even teasing him, not retreating into yourself like you were doing now. Again.

He was used to the strong, confident woman who had a sharp tongue and a sharper mind, but now… this? This wasn’t you. And he did not want to lose you again.

“You know what it is,” you breathed out, a soft exhale, but it felt like a sigh of surrender. His hand, warm against your back, seemed to hold you in place as you turned your face slightly towards him.

He raised an eyebrow, leaning closer, his grip tightening, but not in a way that felt possessive—more like an invitation. He wanted to know.

"I don’t," he replied, his voice as calm as ever, but with an edge of urgency now. "I can’t help if you don’t let me in, Y/N."

You swallowed hard, pulling away just a fraction, as if the distance between you and him could somehow ease the tightness in your chest. Now it was time to ask. Step two.

“I want Anubis back,” you said quietly, the words hanging in the air, heavy with meaning. Hoseok's eyes flickered for a moment, but his composure didn’t waver.

“Alright.” Hoseok’s lips quivered at the edges, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. His response—so simple, so nonchalant—sent a strange shiver down your spine.

“What?” You blinked.

“Alright,” he repeated, as though you’d asked for something as trivial as a cup of coffee. You blinked again, caught in the dissonance of the moment.

That was it? Alright? It felt like the words didn’t align with the gravity of what you had just confessed.

You leaned back slightly, studying him as though searching for any hint of a hidden agenda, but all you found was the same carefully crafted calm. The calm of a man who was too used to getting what he wanted without asking for it.

"That's it?" you finally whispered, voice sharp despite the confusion swirling in your gut. "You just... agree?"

“If Anubis is what will make you my extravagantly beautiful Princess happy again, I’ll give it back–”

You looked up at him, the confusion, the anger, and the uncertainty swirling in your chest, but underneath it all… there was something else. Something you didn’t want to acknowledge.

The night drags on, each introduction another reminder of what you've become. The people you meet seem to glide around you, asking about your upcoming wedding, about your plans, your future. You almost laugh at the irony of it all hanging in the air like a thick fog. You're a trophy in a glass case, and everyone's looking at you, poking and prodding, but no one seems to care to really see you. But him.

Then, an older woman turns to you, and you surely met her once or twice at these sorts of events but you never paid attention to those old snobs enough to know her name. Her gaze sharp as she asks,

"Are you with child my dear?" You freeze, almost choking on the juice, the question slicing through the air. Before you can even respond, Hoseok cuts in, his voice smooth but diplomatic.

"We have just recently started to try, Misses Kang." She was a fucking busybody. Too curious. You can feel the weight of the room shift, all eyes on you now, judging, whispering. You want to run, to scream, but you hold it in, even as your fingers tighten around your drink, your knuckles white. The grey-haired gentleman beside the woman snorts under his breath, a comment you don't hear, but you don't need to.

"Men like us Mister Jung, we need strong lineage—" It doesn't matter. You've already checked out, retreating into your mind again, thinking about how Hoseok just handed Anubis to you without thinking twice. Your brain screamed that this is not just because he had some sort of epiphany but a part of something bigger. Does he perhaps know…? Know that you cannot leave him anymore. You were ready to wield that to have your way. But he just gave it back.

"I need some air," you mutter, standing up abruptly, and leaving the table behind. You don't look back as you walk out of the room, the hallway stretching out before you. You take the stairs two at a time, the sound of your heels echoing in the otherwise silent space.

You find a door, and a balcony, and step outside, your breath catching in the cold night air. Your dress flares around you as you lean against the railing, the weight of the night pressing down on you. You stare out into the distance, the tears you've been holding back finally spilling over, rolling down your cheeks.

A voice interrupts your thoughts, rough and grating against the wind, "Are you going to jump?"

You turn sharply, startled by the sudden presence. The man before you is in his twenties, with longer brown hair and a stubbled jaw. His Australian accent is as clear as the night sky above you.

"What?" you stammer, confusion swirling with all the confused emotions in your chest.

"I asked if you were going to jump," he says, his hands shoved casually into his black slacks. He lifts his head slightly, waiting for an answer, as though he's seen this all before.

You scoff, bitterness creeping into your voice. "What's it to you?"

"I'd jump after you," he says casually, his eyes never leaving you. You give him a look, incredulous.

"This isn't some fucking rom-com," you snap, your voice sharp, trying to push him away with words.

He raises an eyebrow, unbothered. "No, but the situation is very similar," he argues. "I'm not saying you're about to jump off a boat, but there's a pool down there. You'd survive."

Your gaze drifts back to the darkness below, the tears still falling. You don't want to talk to this stranger. You just want to be alone, but his words, his strange calmness, begin to settle into your mind.

And then, like a physical force, strong arms wrap around you, pulling you back from the railing you were almost ready to mount. You gasp in shock, struggling at first, but the man's grip is firm.

"What are you doing?" you ask, panic rising in your chest. You try to push his hands away, but he doesn't let go.

"I'm saving you, and your very very expensive Versace dress," he murmurs calmly, his voice soft but insistent.

You stop fighting then, your body slumping against him, exhaustion settling into your bones. He holds you for a moment longer, then whispers in your ear, "How about you tell me why you wanted to do it?"

There's something about the way he says it that makes your body go still, something in his voice that makes you want to open up, to speak the words you've been choking on for so long.

“I wasn’t, it just went through my mind for a moment.”

You sit down on the cold tiles, your tears finally slowing as you tell him everything—the fear, the suffocation, the way Hoseok's love feels different now. That you’re scared to admit your feelings like you could before.

When you're finished, you feel raw and exposed, but somehow lighter. You don't expect him to understand, but his quiet sympathy soothes something in you.

"Please, just don't tell anyone," you beg, the weight of your vulnerability heavy on your chest.

He nods, his eyes soft as he glances at the balcony door.

He doesn't seem to share your fear. Instead, he looks at you with understanding. "He's a friend," He says, "and he talked about a woman he wanted to marry...a lot. But I can't say I'd agree with everything he's ever done to achieve it."

You look at him, eyes wide with confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I'm can’t help you escape this feelings," he adds gently, his tone softening, "but I can be a friend when he no longer can be one." You don’t want to escape do you?

"You did not tell me your name—"

His eyes scanned your face with something that almost resembled concern. But the fleeting moment of solace shattered like glass the moment the door swung open.

Hoseok stood there, framed in the balcony doorway. The soft light from the hallway illuminated him in a way that made him look almost angelic, but the glint of steel in his hand told a different story.

You froze. What is going on?

"Step away from her," Hoseok's voice was quiet, deadly, his grip steady on the gun pointed directly at the other male.

He leaned back at the railing, his hands raising slowly in a display of mock surrender.

"Easy there, mate," he said, his voice unnervingly calm. "Didn't mean to step on anyone's toes. Just having a little chat."

Hoseok motioned for you to stand up and run to him, his eyes pleading for you to understand through his firm gaze on you two. What is going on?

Hoseok ignored him, his eyes locked onto yours. "Are you alright?"

You nodded slowly, your throat too tight to speak. The tension in the air was palpable and you did not know what to think. Where is the danger in here if he's griping the gun, not letting it down?

"I should put a bullet in your head right the fuck now," Hoseok seethed. What for? You were utterly confused and when Hoseok motioned for you to get the fuck up, you hesitated but did in the end. If anything, you trusted his gut more than you did yours over the years.

His smirk didn't waver when he gripped your hand and pulled you back. Your eyes widening with shock. His touch lacked the warmth you felt before and his next words sounded utterly different than before.

"See, that's the thing, Jung. You're all about control, but I don't think you have as much of it as you think." He flicked his gaze toward you, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous. "She looks tired. Must be exhausting being your pretty little bird in a cage."

Hoseok took a step forward, his gun aimed directly at his head now, his lips curling into something dark.

"You think I don't know what you're doing? Trying to get close to her, take what's mine, use her as leverage?" He didn't flinch or let you go. And you stood frozen. Without any explanation.

"Wasn't too hard. Seems like she's already looking for a way out." He provoked, knowing what it will make Hoseok to think. Inflitrate his thoughts. Homewrecker.

Your breath hitched, and Hoseok's gaze snapped to you for a split second—long enough for him to make his move. In a flash, he grabbed your other wrist, yanking you toward him, using your body as a shield between him and the gun. You gasped, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

"Put the gun down," he said, his tone dangerously low, his grip firm but not painful. "We both know you're not going to risk her."

Hoseok's face darkened, his finger twitching over the trigger. "You're making a grave mistake right now, Luen."

Luen.

Your blood ran cold. The Luen family. You'd heard whispers of them—new money with old grudges, climbing the ranks with ruthless efficiency. But you never encountered one. They avoided press, they avoided public outings. They operated from shadows. No wonder you did not know him, if he’d ever show his face in your circles, you’d know.

While your clan rebuilt their empire on this continent through generations of calculated business moves and deeply rooted alliances, the Luens were a wildfire—spreading fast, consuming everything in their path with ruthless efficiency. Your families used to be closer in the past. The times before World Wars and you yourself did not know exactly when their connection severed.

As you later got to know, this particular Luen man was a ghost from the past, one Hoseok had thought buried overseas while he studied abroad for some time. But now he was here, standing in front of you with his cocky smirk and calculating eyes. It was no coincidence. The Luens were patient and hidden hunters, and it was clear that he had been sent for a reason—to sink his claws into Hoseok's most vulnerable spot.

You.

"Am I?" his lips brushed against your ear, and you shivered involuntarily. "I just wanted to talk, but now... now I think I might just take her with me. Seems like she'd like that rather than being with you."

No. No. No.

He felt so wrong suddenly. Everything felt wrong.

Hoseok's knuckles turned white around the gun, his eyes burning with fury.

"Let. Her. Go."

"Give me what I want, Jung. A slice of your market and territory, and she walks free. Easy trade, yeah?"

Hoseok's lips curled into a humourless smile, his eyes narrowing. "You must be dumber than I thought. You think I'd ever let you walk away with anything?"

Before he could respond, Hoseok moved—fast. In one fluid motion, he slammed the butt of his gun into his side, forcing him to loosen the grip he had on you. You stumbled forward, gasping for air as Hoseok yanked you away and shoved you behind him, his body a solid wall between you and him.

Well that was strangely easy.

He groaned, clutching his ribs, but that infuriating smirk was still there. "Right… your choice."

"Get the fuck out," Hoseok growled, his voice low and menacing. "Before I change my mind and wash the floor with your brain."

He held up his hands in surrender, circling you to get to the balcony door.

"This was fun. We should do it again sometime." He glanced at you one last time, a knowing glint in his eyes before disappearing out the door.

"Goodbye, Princess." He winked at you and you felt the disgust bubbling inside of you.

Hoseok turned to you, his expression dark, stormy but worried. Too worried. He might have lost you right here and right now if he didn't decide to check on you.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. "I... I didn't know who he was. I just needed to breathe."

"Did he hurt you? Did he threaten you?" He blurted those questions fast while he scanned your smaller physique for any signs of injuries.

"No, we just talked, I didn't—"

Hoseok stared at you for a long moment before sighing and dragging a hand through his hair.

"You're not leaving my sight again."

You wanted to argue, but the words died on your tongue. The look in his eyes told you there would be no room for negotiation this time. You were not even sure whether you wanted to argue with him. Not after this.

"How come I don't know that Luen's revisited their feud with us?" You ask Hoseok the moment you step into his room. Or yours now. Can't seem to get used to saying that.

Hoseok shut the door behind him with a quiet click, his jaw tightening as he shed down his suit jacket and went to get rid of his dress shirt too.

"You weren't supposed to know," he said finally, his voice quieter now, but no less firm. "Because I handled it." Shirt down, point taken.

You scoffed, crossing your arms as you turned to face him. "Handled it? Right. And that's why that Luen—which disgusting brother was he again— had his hands on me"

His gaze darkened. "Jinsoo—"

Hoseok exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "The Luens made their first move a few months ago. Small things. Disrupting shipments, trying to flip some of our lower-level guys. I let them play their little games because I didn't think they had the balls to escalate." His eyes flicked to you, sharp and assessing.

"Clearly, I was wrong."

You swallowed, trying to ignore the way his words sent a shiver down your spine.

"Now we have to kill him, Hoseok—" Hoseok's eyes flickered, something unreadable flashing through them before he let out a low, humourless chuckle. You held your ground, ignoring the way your pulse spiked at the weight of his gaze.

"Why? What could you possibly tell him?" He knew you were not a rookie, and that whatever you revealed from now and then to anyone who's not in your inside circle, was an oblique and vague angle of events. This was non-negotiable. This clan did not even allow its members to have a doctor, therapist, lawyer, even fucking plumber outside of the ties this syndicate had.

And suddenly, the room felt smaller, the air tighter, the weight in your chest no longer just from adrenaline.

"Baby?" His sharp eyes flicked back to yours, his fingers still curled loosely under your chin.

"I'm sure it cannot be that bad, you've been taught well—"

Your breath hitched, your fingers tightening around the fabric of your sleeve.

"He might have figured it out—"

Hoseok's entire body went rigid. The silence that followed was deafening.

"Figure out what, love?" You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. Your pulse pounded, but you refused to look away.

You hesitated for a moment. You should have told him before.

You glanced at your engagement ring that was set under your new addition to your vast jewellery collection thanks to Hoseok— a wedding band. A matching gold one wrapped around his ring finger mocking you now. It was barely a month and half since you tied the knot.

You should have told him that day. Maybe that way he would now fall down to his knees and hug your below and murmur every single word that expressed gratefulness and admiration. This is what he wanted. But you were not sure if this is what you wanted, that’s why you gave yourself time to think how you want to do this. It takes people years to have this but God has chosen you. Or listened to Hoseok’s prayers. You can't seem to undo it now. It would not fly in this family. This was even more permanent than marriage in this clan.

And now, because of this little detail, Luen Jinsoo was as good as dead.

And now, the smile Hoseok flashed you with, told you everything you needed.

Of course he knew.

"I'm pregnant."

I N T E R L O G U E

The ceremony itself was something out of a dream, a carefully curated illusion of romance to mask the reality beneath.

Beneath the glinting chandeliers, the whispered toasts, and the weight of Hoseok's gaze as he slid the ring onto your finger, there was something else. And you were not sure what.

But once you were sitting on the closed lid of toilet in the bridal suite, wedding dress bunched around your thighs, clutching the piece of plastic in your french manicured nails, the room around you was suffocatingly silent, save for the faint echo of music filtering through the heavy doors.

The test in your hand made everything spin, the two pink lines staring back at you with finality. People were trying for months or even years and here God decided to bless you. Or Hoseok.

Too soon, it happened oddly soon. You should have bought another box. You should not get distracted but other things to forget about this. You thought you counted your ovulation correctly, you could have taken ovulation tests to ensure it won't happen. You could have done so many things to avoid this, but here you are with a new life under your heart.

A knock on the door made you jump.

"Baby?" Hoseok's voice was low, muffled through the wood but unmistakably laced with something—concern? Possessiveness? You couldn't tell.

"You okay?"

You swallowed, staring at your reflection in the mirror across from you. What interior designer would bask in your dismay when placing a wall-tall mirror right across the toilet? Your veil was still clipped into your hair, and your makeup was still perfect. But your eyes—your eyes—looked different now. Wiser. More terrified than they had ever been.

Another knock. More insistent this time.

"Y/N." His voice was sharper. "Open the door."

He was scared. Of course he was. Even though there is no way you could vanish, he was scared that you would change your mind, that you would flee the first chance you got. He was not stupid, he knew that you staying by his side was his choice but also yours. He would not underestimate what you can do. After all, you were you.

You exhaled shakily and forced yourself to move, tucking the test under the tissues in the bin like a terrible, wonderful secret, and you straightened the folds of your dress. Your hands trembled as you reached for the door handle and turned it.

Hoseok stood there, still in his wedding suit, tie loosened just enough to reveal the column of his throat. His dark eyes flickered over you, assessing, reading you the way he always did. His fingers twitched at his side like he wanted to reach for you but wasn't sure why you looked so shaken.

"What's wrong?" he asked, stepping closer, his warmth seeping into you. "Talk to me."

You opened your mouth. Hesitated.

"I think the shrimp cocktail was not a good appetizer."

tag list: @iveivory - @tea4sykes - @btspurplesky - @hecateslittlewitchling - @fancypeacepersona - @bambii111 - @babygirlskz98

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥ 𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡.

lots of love, p.

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satorusugurugurl · 10 months ago

Text

I Think He Knows

Summary: When your novel takes off and becomes a best seller, doors of opportunities open for you. You can work on the series you have dreamed about all your life. And you’re also given the chance to stay in a tiny cottage in Europe for two years to help with inspiration! Your best friend, Geto Suguru, shatters at the news. How could he possibly tell you how he feels when you’re leaving him? His opportunity appears right before him when you confess that your editor thinks a change of scenery will help with your not-so-steamy romance scenes. They’re lacking a particular spice because you’re a virgin. So, Suguru does what any best friend would do. He offers to teach you how things work. Will you cross that line as friends? Or will you both say goodbye?

Pairing: Geto Suguru x FAB!Reader

Word Count: 4,505

Warning: Language, suggestiveness, mentions of sex, mentions of death, depression, insomina

A/N: BestFriend!Suguru series is now our Saturday special!! Let’s goooooo!!! 😈💚

Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Tweleve

Fifteen years ago, you and your family moved to Tokyo from the countryside due to your father’s job. You were so nervous, walking into your kindergarten class and holding your bag as your homeroom teacher introduced you to your new classmates. Everyone stared at you as you were ushered towards a table with two boys. One stuck his tongue out at you while the other colored with crayons.

“Oooh.” You said in awe, looking at the picture the dark-haired boy was coloring. “That’s pretty! Did you draw that?”

The crayon stopped moving as the dark-haired boy looked up at you for the first time. His dark eyes widened as he looked you over, a rosy flush dusting his cheeks. “I uhm,” his eyes darted back towards the paper, “yeah, I drew it.” You leaned in, your eyes sparkling in awe, as your classmate sucked in a deep breath as you got closer.

“So pretty!”

Swallowing hard, the boy continued coloring. “I-If you want it, you can have it when I’m done.” His voice is so timid that you almost don’t hear it.

“Eh?! Really!?” You smile, revealing a missing tooth. “Thank you—uhm, what’s your name?”

“G-Geto.”

“Thank you, Geto!”

“You’re welcome.”

That day marked the beginning of your friendship with Geto Suguru! You two have been inseparable ever since that day. You were having play dates and attending the same middle school, high school, and college! You even lived in the same apartment complex, just two floors separating you.

Suguru never once gave up on his passion for drawing, trading his crayons and construction paper for oil paint and canvas. You didn’t have an artistic bone in your body. You did, however, have a way with words. You were constantly losing yourself in characters you'd create and worlds you built, and you never thought of sharing them with the world until Suguru pushed you to do so.

You took his advice and submitted your novel to several writing competitions, not expecting anything to come from it. Boy, were you shocked when you won first place and were allowed to publish your novel! The publishing company loved the story, your characters, and the premise of it, so much so that they signed you on for a whole saga.

That was great! Your characters would finally be given the chance to shine. Their stories would be told! There was just one issue that you kept running into while working on the sequel. Your high-end fantasy novel was a romance between the princess of your series and her knight. You ended the first book with a very intimate kiss and confession. The whole purpose was to have readers wanting more, and they wanted more.

Your reader wanted more Ilaus and Oaklynn, more kisses, sweet whispers of nothing, and steamy smut. The readers wanted to see the lovely, innocent princess and her hot knight getting freaky. Which you were all down for! You wanted them to get to that point as much as your readers! You wanted Oaklynn to be face down getting plowed by Ilaus more than anyone else! You had written their story and made them suffer; they deserved to be happy with each other.

So why was writing sex scenes your kryptonite?!

You anxiously watched Nanami Kento, your beta reader and editor, scroll through your phone and read the latest pages you had written. His face was stoic, unreadable as his eyes glimpsed over the screen. Your leg bounced as he put your phone down, his eyes focusing on his mug before he sighed.

“Oh my god, you hate it.” Anxiety settled in your gut. “It’s terrible! I knew it sucked.”

Nanami winced, his eyes not meeting yours, and he brought his mug to his mouth and took a sip. “Why did you call his penis ‘his raging meat stick’? Like it was a slab of salami?” Your friend watched you slam your head gently against the table. “And for her, you called it her fairy cave?” This time, your friend didn't wince; no, the bastard chuckled.

“This isn't funny, Nanami!”

“I know,” he took another sip, “look, it's not bad; I just think if you're going to write a sex scene, you need to refer to the genitals as genitals and not lunch meat and damp mystical caves.”

“L-Like use the word penis?”

“Or cock, dick, not meat stick.”

“Shh!!” you reached over the table, covering his mouth with your hands. “We're out in public!!”

Nanami pulled back away from your hands. “Oh please, we know Gojo and Sukuna. They are more foul than that.” He had a point; the two could make grandmothers cry with their colorful vocabulary.

The first half of your novel was easy to write—lots of action, passionate kisses, and dialogue. The middle had hit you with a brick of writer's block. This was your first time writing anything remotely spicy other than making out with tongue. The scene you were stuck on right now wasn’t even a full-on sex scene! That made it so much worse! They were pleasing each other in a tent with just their hands! It's a simple mutual masturbation scene.

But using a meat stick and a fairy cave would not cut it. And the next couple of chapters were due to your agent in a week. If Nanami pretty much flat-out told you these scenes sucked, there was no way in hell you would be turning this in to your agent.

“Fuck, Nanami, what am I going to do?”

“Scrape it and rewrite it.” Feeling your gaze on his, Nanami breathed out a breathy huff. “Look, it's not terrible, trust me; I know you're capable of more.” Your trusted friend chuckled as you puffed out your cheeks.

“Oh yeah, scrape it; maybe I'll use a hot dog instead of a meat stick this time.” What were you going to do?! There was a week to turn the poorly excused terrible smut you'd written into something that would please Nanami, your agent, and the publisher.

Nanami patted your shoulder as he collected his stuff. “You know, sometimes our own experiences can help.” Great, now you were frustrated and a blushing mess!

“I-I can't do that!”

“Well, then read some erotic novels for inspiration if you have any questions if you don't want to use your personal sexual experiences.”

“That’s not what I me—”

“Look, let's meet on Tuesday for lunch, and you can show me what you have then. I gotta run to class; I’ll see you then.”

With a heavy heart, you watched your friend rush out of the café and return to Campus. Nanami was full of good ideas. Using one's own experiences was a good muse. It was something you would do if you had any experience. The number one reason you had so many issues writing smut seems like this was because you were a complete and total virgin.

That was the sole reason why writing sex scenes was your kryptonite. Because you had zero experience, writing about something you had no experience in was hard. So Nanami’s advice, while appreciated, was utterly useless. You had no experience, and there was no way you were hooking up with some random person to inspire you.

Oh well, you had a lovely long week to try and fix the monstrosity you had created. It wasn't like your agent would call you out of the blue! Yeah, you had a week! A week! It was all good!

A bag slammed on the table as you packed your laptop and notepad. With a squeak and a jump, you turned to see your agent staring down at you—a look of dismay and stress plastered over her face.

“U-Utahime?” Her expression remained the same as she adjusted her baseball hat. “H-Hi, what's up?”

“Meat stick?”

“Fuuuck.” you cried out, throwing your head back.

“I come in to give you good news, and I hear that Nanami is saying you're struggling with the sex scenes?” She sips her coffee anxiously, her foot tapping against the tile floor. “You told me it was a romance? And you can't write sex scenes?!”

You hushed her, standing up and putting your index finger against your lips. “Shut up! Please! I'm working on it; I'm just struggling!” Utahime laughs, crossing her arms over her chest. “I'll fix it! I promise you’ll have a super spicy mutual touching session by next week!” she gives you a skeptical look, one you're pretty sure was on your face as well. “B-But what good news do you have?” Your agent and friend relaxes as she grins.

“You know that cottage that you saw online? The one in Europe that inspired your book?”

“The one that I can't find? Yeah, I know it.”

When you graduated high school, you and Suguru had stopped at a bookstore while shopping for supplies. You were grazing through pictures of European castles when you saw this darling little cottage. It looked similar to the cottage in Sleeping Beauty. It was made of stone in the woods beside a river where a water mill ran.

The cottage was gorgeous; it got your creative juices flowing. You imagined characters living there, and it was honestly the inspiration for your book. You desperately searched for it. Wanting to learn more about the cottage that had inspired your fantasy world, you couldn't find a lick of evidence. You had been under the assumption that it was either destroyed or didn't even exist. So you had given up on finding it two years ago.

“Well, your lovely agent made a few calls and sent out some photos, and she found it.”

“Shut up bitch.” Utahime just smirked, pulling out her phone. “Oh my god, oh god! Are you serious?!” Her phone slid across the table, the screen illuminated by the cottage that inspired your novel. “Ahh! Oh my god!”

“I also got in touch with the owners of the cottage. And when I told them a best-selling novelist was in love with their cottage, which they just so happen to rent out, they offered for you to stay there.”

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!”

“Maybe staying here will get your creativity flowing! Help you with the next few novels.”

Your body was vibrating in excitement. “Oh my god, yes! A week here would be great!” A low ‘uhm’ from across from you drew your attention from the phone to your agent. “Or a weekend?” she shook her head.

“They offered it to you for longer than that.”

“Seriously? How long are we talking?”

Utahime’s smile was wide and warm. “You’re gonna need a few bags.”

The second you left the coffee shop with a coffee in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other, you bolted down the street. Your meeting with Utahime went so well! You couldn’t wait to tell Suguru all about it. By the time you reached the apartment complex and his door on the third floor, you were panting.

Glancing at the handle, you luckily didn’t find a tie on it, meaning he didn’t bring home some chick, so it was safe for you to come in if you wanted. He did that for you after you walked in on him eating some bimbo out on the kitchen counter. Knowing it was safe, you unlocked the door with your spare key and headed inside.

The smell of paint was strong, meaning Suguru was in the zone and probably had been for hours. Meaning he hadn’t eaten. He was so lucky to have you as his best friend in the whole world, or the man would have starved.

“Suguru~!” Stepping through the apartment, you followed the sound of alternative music toward the spare room, which he’d turned into his makeshift studio. Stepping inside, you didn't find him, but his easel had a new canvas.

Quickly rushing forward, you stared at it, and your heart sank. Suguru had sketched out an aquarium, the base colors down, and a girl stood in front of the tank. The colors hadn’t been placed on her, but you knew who she was from the ruffled sun dress she wore to the braid that cascaded down her back.

“Riko.” Her name tore at your heart as you reached out to touch the sketch of the girl who had been taken far too soon.

Before you could touch the canvas, a creaking floorboard had you pulling away, rushing far for the easel. Your best friend walked in, a fresh mug of water in his hand, while he scrolled through his phone in the other.

God, how he had changed in the fifteen years you’d been together. His hair was longer, pulled in a bun; his bangs hung in his face. Suguru’s left arm was inked with a dragon; it swirled around the head of it tattooed on his shoulder. His lip was pierced along with the cartridge of his ears, and he was wearing his black gauges. That boy you met in class was now a man who was shirtless and covered in paint.

Suguru finally looked up; seeing you standing there startled him, causing him to spill water on the floor. “Fuckin’ hell!” He yelled, putting the mug down to grab the edge of his tables covered with tubes of paint. “You little fuckin’ shit.” His words held no heat as you placed his food and coffee down.

“Oh please, you’d starve without me. I tried calling you when I came in.”

“I was in the kitchen.”

“No, you weren’t.” You sat on the table inches from where Suguru stood. “I walked through there; you sneaking a girl down the fire escape? Not wanting me to catch you doing something indecent again?”

There was always a playful, teasing tone between the two of you. Especially now that you were older and he was a man whore. His dark eyes narrowed as he grinned, slotting between your legs as he sipped coffee.

His eyes trailed over you. “Why would you be jealous if I was?” You shook your head as he pushed your hair back. “Damn, I was just talking to Satoru.” Suguru rolled his eyes as you whistled. “You would like.” He ruffled the top of your head.

“Nah~ I’ve seen you go down on a girl.” He opened his mouth again. “And no, I’m not jealous; I just don’t wanna see you going at it.”

“Yeah, he said we’re all going out tonight; something about that sushi train place.” He pulled out the sandwich you brought him, taking a bite. “Said we had to celebrate.”

“Oh, we do.” Suguru swallowed the mouthful of food. “Because I got some great news today.”

“Really? Did Nanami like your new pages?” He stepped away, grabbing the mug of clean water as he stepped back in front of the canvas.

“Well, no, but that’s a whole other situation.” The excitement buzzing in your chest could no longer be held in. “Utahime found the cottage!”

Suguru perked up, knowing exactly what you were talking about. “Shut the fuck up, she did, where?!” He’d helped you search for your inspiration for hours; he knew how badly you wanted to go there.

“It’s in a wooded area in England. Super pretty! The owners have read my book and offered to let me stay there!”

“Well, that’s gre—”

“For the next two years!!”

Glass shattered, leaving both you and Suguru in stunned silence. Your best friend was pale, the color leaving his cheeks. His eyes were distant as you looked down, seeing the water spreading over the floorboard, sliding under Suguru’s bare feet.

You were the first to move, not to pick up the glass but to grab Suguru’s face gently. He was as still as a rock; he only got like that when he had flashbacks to that night. Seeing that he was painting Riko must have meant he was stuck in that moment from your second year of high school.

He shut his eyes tight, leaning into your touch, cluing you in. It wasn’t a flashback. He took a deep breath before lifting you, putting you off to the side, away from the glass. Something wasn’t right with Suguru; you knew it from his lingering touch and the lack of light in his eyes.

“What time did you get up?” You asked as you bent down, helping him pick up shards of glass.

“Are you going to leave?”

“I asked you a question first. What time did you get up?”

“Three this morning. Are you leaving?”

Peering up, you found his eyes focused solely on you. “I’m uhm—I’m waiting for Utahime to contact the owners.” He gritted his teeth, his eyes returning to the glass on the floor. “It’s not set in stone yet, Suguru.” You gently nudged his hand with yours; those words had him relaxing a bit, like relief was washing over him. “Why were you up at three?” He stood up, tossing the broken glass in the trash.

“Nightmares.”

“About Riko?”

Riko Amanai was a person Suguru didn’t like talking about. He went to therapy for what happened, but her death left a mark on him that probably would never heal. He had his good months and his bad months. Between the canvas and the nightmares, you knew he was going to have a hard time this month.

You didn’t push him; you hated to pry that part of his life. That didn’t mean you weren’t there for him, though. If he wanted to talk to you, your door was always open. There had been many nights when he would show up and ask to stay in bed with you. Those were the nights when nightmares were too much to handle when he had too much on his mind. Those were the nights you both stayed up, talking about life, your novel, or his work. They were also the nights you both fell asleep in each other‘s arms and got some of the best sleep of your lives.

“Suguru—?”

“I’m going to grab the broom. Just stay here.” Suguru grabs a white sheet and covers his newest canvas up before heading out of his room towards the kitchen.

Great, you just had to go prying into his trauma. What the hell is wrong with you? He would’ve talked about it with you if he wanted to talk about it. It was wrong to dig into what was happening in his mind. You worried so much about him, and sometimes you forgot you had no right to question him.

Despite your prying and prodding questions, Suguru was still warm to you. He wrapped an arm around you and plopped down on the couch with you while he finished eating breakfast and drinking coffee. He showed you some of the paints he wanted to get the next time he dragged you to the art store. Suguru acted like everything was normal when you both knew it wasn’t.

He was masking; he often did when he didn’t want to talk about what was going on in his mind. Or when he didn’t want to worry you. You could easily see through his façade, but you weren’t about to ruin the rest of his day with your questions. You lay there on the couch with him, listening to him talk about his paints and the commissions that he had received.

The mundane conversations lasted until four o’clock. The two of you freshened up before heading downtown to meet your other friends for your not-so-celebratory dinner. Satoru had invited almost everyone you knew. Nanami, Shoko, Sukuna, Haibara, and Yuki cheered when you two entered.

You were pulled towards the bar by Shoko and Yuki, who squealed over how lucky you were to have found your cottage. Suguru snatched a beer from the bucket on the table, chugging it as he sat beside Satoru. The white-haired man hissed out a sigh, his arm wrapping over Suguru’s shoulder as the two watched you closely.

“I can’t believe they offered her to stay there for two years.” Satoru purred out. “Like fuck, it’ll be weird not having her here.”

“Please shut the fuck up.”

Satoru pulled his dark sunglasses off, glaring at his best friend. “Who pissed in your cereal?” He paused, pursing his lips together. “Oh right, the girl you love is leaving you. I have an idea; tell her how you feel!” A handful of gyoza is shoved into Satoru’s mouth.

“I can’t. You know I can’t.” Nanami glanced at the two before him, gulping down his beer. “If I tell her, it’ll be like I’m holding her back. I can’t do that.” As he steals another glance at you, confusion, doubt, and anxiety settle in Suguru’s stomach. “If she wants to go, she can go.”

Thankfully, after his little rant, the conversation drifted from you and focused on school. The whole night, no one brought up the cottage, nor you leaving yet. As you assure them, nothing is set in stone yet, but finding out where your inspiration was was enough to drink to.

The happiness that seemed to radiate off you made Suguru feel bittersweet over the whole situation. He was happy for you. He knew how much finding that cottage. He spent his free time looking into it for you. But he could never find anything. He desperately didn’t want to go either. You were his best friend. You had been for fifteen years, and he was utterly in love with you, but he didn’t want to cross that line.

Now that there was a possibility that you would be leaving, he regretted all the chances he had to cross that line, and he never took it. That’s why he slept with so many girls who shared attributes similar to yours. Some of them had your eyes, others had your hair color, and there were just some of them that looked similar to you. It was a way to cope with being unable to tell you how he felt. But at least he didn’t ruin your friendship.

Between the lack of sleep and the new fear of losing you, Suguru needed something more potent than beer. He shimmed over to the bar, ruffling your hair as he passed you. As he leaned over the bar, waiting for his drink, Nanami squeezed in next to him.

“I think I know why she might be leaving.”

“Huh?” Suguru’s pierced brow lifted in confusion. “Why would there be a reason for her to leave? She’s always wanted to go to that cottage.”

“She offered to stay there to help with her writing. I may have called Utahime and given her a heads up about the pages I read today.” Nanami sipped his drink. “We both agreed that change of scenery might help with her writing.”

“The fuck do you mean?” A twinge of anger flashed over Suguru’s face. “Her writing is the best. There’s nothing for her to work on. She got published, for God's sake.”

Nanami chuckled nervously. “There’s no doubt that she’s a talented writer. While her dialogue and kissing scenes and her world-building are superior to other authors, I’ve read for. Her romance scenes are atrocious.” When Nanami saw the look of bewilderment on Suguru’s face, he nodded. “By romance, I mean sex scenes.”

“Well, she’s never had a boyfriend; I don’t think she’s even kissed someone.” Nanami makes a humming sound of understanding as a revelation overcomes Suguru. “Do you think if her sex scenes get better, she might now want to leave for as long as she said?”

“Maybe. But it’ll take a miracle for her sex scenes to improve.”

A miracle that Suguru was willing to provide. If he could help you, maybe, just maybe, you might consider staying if you’re given a chance to leave. And if he’s lucky, perhaps he would finally find the strength to tell you how he felt. Downing his drink, he rushed back to the table, grabbing your hand.

“Hey, can I talk to you?”

Your eyes glitter, making Suguru’s heart thunder. “Sure!” He drags you through the crowded restaurant, pulling you outside towards the alley. “What’s up?” God, you look so pretty with flushed cheeks.

“Nanami told me about the sex scenes”

“That traitor!” You pout, tilting your head back with a grumble. “Fine, go ahead and make fun of my usage of deli meat for describing genitalia.” The teasing never comes. Instead, Suguru's musky, earthy smell crowds you as he slams his hands on either side of your head. “S-Sugu?”

“I have a proposition.” His voice purrs out, making your heart race spike. “You’re struggling with the sex scenes. That’s why you’re thinking of leaving, right?”

“Y-yeah, and?”

“What if I help you? If your sex scenes get better, do you think you might not need to leave for two years?”

Heat begins to fill the tiny space between your bodies. You feel your exhaled air mingling with the others. Fuck was it the alcohol?

“I-I mean, maybe I wouldn’t need to leave for so long. Maybe just a week.” There’s a gleam in your best friend's eyes. “But how are you going to help me?” His mouth inches closer, and you can feel the heat as he leaves an inch away from your lips.

“I can teach you.”

(TBC)

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe

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foreverisntenough · 8 months ago

Text

‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

INDEX

Warnings: This series is 18+ and will contain fluff, suggestion, SMUT (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, parenting, mental health struggles, eating disorder, self doubt, body image issues, daddy kink, angst, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant/ baby logistics it’s better if you just read along happily :)

Chapter 28 - In My Dreams | ‘Ours’

word count - 10.7 k

You were sitting at the kitchen table on your Mac starting to figure out some semblance of a plan for how Teddy’s schooling would work. Of course the club provided a lot of assistance with this because it was slightly an abnormal dynamic but also Trent and more specifically Dianne obviously knew the area and school system well. Regardless of all of this help… you did not. You didn’t go to school ever in the uk. You didn’t even study abroad in England because you already ‘knew it’ well because of your dad. Now you were regretting that and kicking yourself for believing that having an English passport meant you knew anything. Needless to say you found yourself in a wormhole of information about dos and don’t, public, private, religious affiliation, all sorts of things fueling your anxiety and worry about making sure you’re little girl got the best but most normal experience she could. You definitely had access to a lot more opportunities than most given your situation but the anxiety was still high. You were entranced in an article until a large ‘whap’ sound echoed scaring the shit out of you.

“Holy shit!” You exclaimed really not expecting the sudden loud noise. You laid your hand over your heart to make sure it was still beating normally. A pile of 10 glossy magazines slapped down on the table next to you. You looked up to see a cheeky grin plastered to Trent’s face.

“Heard there’s an absolute sort in this issue ya know.” He cooed with a slight giggle. You rolled your eyes at him and pulled the stack to you across the slick table top. “Go on. Open one! I’ve been waiting for you. I haven’t seen it officially yet!” He exclaimed. You grabbed one copy and flicked through the magazine to find your published article.

“See that is a fucking good looking lad.” Trent continued to laugh at himself pointing to one picture with him in it. You sighed, inspecting your own appearance ignoring his lighthearted joke. He wrapped his arms tight around your shoulder from behind your chair. “Baby, you look fucking unreal. Please. You’re so beautiful. This is so exciting. Come on.” He tried to get you to be happy about the feature but you just felt critical.

“I look okay? I’m scared to even turn the page to see the rest.” You mumbled out leaning your head back into Trent.

“Y/N… UN fucking believable. I want these framed in the house also. This is so cool, baby. Please just be excited, at least for me. I’m so proud of you, yeah?” He cooed smushing his cheek to yours. You knew if he was calling you your first name he was being serious.

“Okay. It is kind of cool.” You mumbled out hating you were admitting that Trent was right but he was. This was actually a dream of yours. You were in British GQ. You were in British GQ and not just some small blurb, this was a full article, multiple pages. Photos of you and your family blown up printed on glossy paper and typed quotes of yours.you smiled reading the headline Bentley Brown actually used a that you’d mentioned to Trent before.

‘From Manhattan to Merseyside.’

From a whirlwind romance struck on a Manhattan street corner Y/N Alexander-Arnold née Y/L/N and her husband, one of football’s brightest stars, England’s Trent Alexander-Arnold captivated both sides of the Atlantic when they first were spotted galavanting in Manchester late into the night. The couple tied the knot this past summer in an equally lavish as it was relaxed ceremony on Y/N’s home soil. Family and friends only… and us. Y/N Alexander-Arnold, the epitome of glamour and high society, seamlessly blended their luxurious lifestyles, trading the bustling streets of Manhattan to a sprawling estate in the English countryside. Their story, marked by years of quiet cuddles hidden in the stands of the worlds biggest stages, designer wardrobes, and high-profile circles, has become the talk of the town, showcasing a perfect fusion of American charm and British elegance. Curious who the woman is with the pearly white smile and model figure sporting the number 66 every match week, we were too.

“Damn fucking right it’s cool. Baby look. You look so sexy in this, you sound so intelligent, the whole thing. It’s massive and you deserve recognition like this.” Trent was your biggest cheerleader and it made your heart want to leap out of your chest. He was so sweet. He pulled one of the chairs out from your kitchen table and sat down, legs spread wide, relaxing back into it picking up a copy of the magazine. He opened it to the page where the article began. He picked his head up with a devastatingly handsome smirk and patted his thigh for you to come sit. You obliged by standing up and moving to him. You sat on his strong muscular thigh in Dior silk pants and a white bralette. Trent’s big warm hands quick to wrap around your small waist squeezing you. You leaned your head onto his shoulder. “You look so fucking good. Ooff baby, I’ll tell you what that Trent Alexander-Arnold’s lad, he’s pretty fucking lucky, huh?” He joked dragging his finger over your body’s frame in one of the photos. He kissed your head with a hum.

“Thank you for being there for me, T. Really. It means so much to me like I know I would never be in a magazine if it weren’t for you.” You began to talk with a bit of a frown reflecting on the circumstances at which this feature came. Yes, it was about you but it was because you were Trent’s wife. You were proud to be his wife but of course it wasn’t the first time you’d felt like this tinge of insignificance. The magazine feature should have been 100% a good, positive, exciting thing but instead it felt like there would always be this bit of you, this percentile you couldn’t quite ever dwindle down that felt lesser than him. You remembered the fight you had before you went to New York after the FA Cup.

‘It felt like you could never measure up to the golden boy that was in the room with you. No matter where you went or what you did he was always going to look sparkly and new, fantastical and interesting and you couldn’t feel more opposite. You had been stripped of a sense of individualisation and identity. You were Teddy’s mum and Trent’s fiance. Y/N didn’t matter, anyone could fill in the blank of your name. The icing on the cake was the image you were trying to uphold all the while.’

“You know what, beautiful? I really don’t believe that. You could be a fucking centerfold.” Trent cut you off with a sincere smile as he flipped to the next page seeing arguably your favorite photo from the entire shoot. It was Trent carrying you thrown over his shoulder, Teddy chasing after you two out in your back garden. You could practically hear her giggle through the page. The photographer really captured your family beautifully. Even in your moments of feeling most insecure there would always be that silver lining, the most shiny gorgeous silver lining that was Trent and the little girl you made together.

“T…” You whined quietly trying to let him know you were attempting to be serious. “I just… I appreciate what you’ve given to me and I don’t mean the tangible things. I mean I love them.” You paused to giggle because let’s be honest the house, the cars, the holidays, the clothes, the jewelry were lovely. You smiled playing with one of the gold clovers of your Van Cleef necklace. “I just mean for how you make me feel, what you’ve done for me. Not to like get serious on you but you know I still have a hard time sometimes but it’s always okay because I have you. I have you and you made it so for the first time in my life I know that even as dark as it gets you’re there and that’s all I need.” You sighed hiding your face in the nape of his neck feeling bad that you just unloaded on him.

“You have me in the darkest and brightest moments of your life baby. I’m here for it all. And the best part about that is we got our little bestie along for the ride now too. Call me biased but that, and I'm not exaggerating, that is the cutest most perfect little girl I’ve ever seen.” Trent smiled inspecting the photo of the three of you. Ironic considering Teddy was a copy paste of him but you did agree.

“I think you’re right. You know what? I think we don’t tell Ted about this and just let her flip through till she sees us.” You laughed, turning your gaze from the magazine pages to Trent who was mindless licking over his lips. You hummed appreciating the view.

“That’s jokes, baby. Yeah, what time is it? When we wake her up we’ll show her. I want to see her reaction so don’t do it without me.” Trent cooed cupping your cheek. He stroked his thumb over your cheek looking deep into your eyes. “‘I’m proud of you baby. I know this was new and difficult for you. I am so proud of you, don’t forget that, okay?” He gently spoke, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“Thank you, baby. That means so much to me. So huh? You’re nice, you’re cute, you’re supportive, you’re sexy, arent you just perfect?” You teased kissing his forehead. He rolled his eyes.

“I am and so are you. Don’t forget that either.” He laughed squeezing your side.

“Look who's awake. My sleepy girl, want to go give daddy a cuddle?” You cooed to a very tired Teddy snuggling into you as you held her walking into the living room from upstairs after her nap. She pouted but you put her down anyway knowing that she would want a cuddle from Trent. She was just too tired to answer you.

“C’mere, baby bear.” Trent smiled big at her and grunted dramatically picking up her light weight body when she finally made it over to where he was sitting on the couch. “My beautiful girl.” Trent cooed, kissing her. You watched Teddy’s pink lips curl into an adorable smile. “Want to show me how smart you are? Can you tell me what this says.” Trent asked Teddy, flashing your eyes to you and pulling her further into his lap whilst he leaned forward to grab a copy of the issue of British GQ off the coffee table. On the cover off to the side there was the list of cover lines featured in the magazine, one of which read ‘Meet Mrs. Alexander-Arnold’ to lead into your interview. Trent traced his finger under the headline. Teddy couldn’t really read just yet. She could get words but it wasn’t like she was going to be reading the full article or anything but Trent knew she’d be able to read her surname.

“Alszander Arnal.” Teddy tried her best to pronounce your surname. To be fair, it was a little tricky and she was getting there. Honestly though, you liked the way she kind of stumbled her way through it. It was really really cute. As she said the double barreled last name aloud though she turned her head befuddled to Trent at why she was reading her surname for him and why it was on this magazine.

“Yeah, good girl! Alexander-Arnold. What do you think is in the magazine?” You applauded her effort and then asked her. She just furrowed her brow. Trent flicked through the magazine until he got near the feature and then made Teddy turn page by page. She got to the one before and Trent started to laugh preemptively.

“Mama!” Teddy screamed as she peeled the page back. There it was the first image of you covering an entire page. “Dada! Look is Mama!!! My mama!” She yelled with a massive smile on her face. Bewildered, surprised, and ecstatic.

“And who’s that? Is that my baby bear with daddy and mummy.” Trent turned the page for her once more and there was the photo of the three of you. She just squealed, picking the magazine up to have a closer look at herself chasing after you and Trent on the turf pitch with a football.

“Is that my pretty girl?” You cooed, coming to sit next to them. Trent pulled you by the waist of your trousers closer to him and Teddy.

“Das me, Mama!!! Teddy!” Teddy shrieked whilst trying to finagle her way out of Trent’s hold handing over the copy. She climbed off the couch and stood in front of you two. She reached out with grabby hands and pulled on Trent’s joggers. “Dada go ‘side like in piture. Footie ‘side now, tay?” She incessantly pulled and pulled on the fabric until he finally sat up some more and let go of his hold of you dropping the magazine into your lap, going to live the printed picture in real life.

“Okay, okay! The Teddy Alexander- Arnold wants to play footie with me? I can’t say no to that, can I?” Trent laughed, at her greedy smile pulling himself to get up with another grunt and a kiss to her forehead. “Alright, yeah it’s my day off but yeah, I’ll play footie.” He said more to you then to Teddy. He’d do anything for her. Was he exhausted and not in the mood to chase after your toddler outside in the freezing weather? Most definitely not but he would bundle Teddy up, throw on a pair of trainers and have a little kick about if it made his little girl smile. Every single time.

“Can you imagine if there were two of her.” You giggled watching Teddy pull on Trent’s facial hair as he zipped up her tan Moncler jacket. He removed her hand from his face for her with a laugh.

“Yeah, well then mummy would also have to go outside in the freezing cold because we’d need to have even numbers. 2 v 2. Right, Ted? Would you be on mummy’s team or daddy’s?” Trent asked Teddy.

“Erm… dada.” She was quick with her response gigging cheekily. You rolled your eyes kneeing before she even responded that would be her answer. Trent stayed bent over tying Teddy’s tiny brown Adidas campers that he had gotten her so they could match. If it was possible, in anyway, Teddy wanted to be like Trent. Naturally, Trent was flattered so anytime he got PR or grabbed anything from Adidas or really any brand he’d make sure to ask if they had a size for her. It didn’t bother you the way you thought it might have. Initially after you had Teddy you were so offended by her preference but now if she latched to him and gave you a minute alone it wasn’t always the worst thing. Lately, though you hadn’t really wanted that moment alone. You liked that she was so enamored with him. You definitely understand the attachment but you also knew when it came to certain things she’d quickly drop her daddy’s girl persona and come running to you. Needs her hair done? Mama. Is tired? Mama. A Cuddle? Definitely mama. Is Hungry? Mama. And hungry you knew the two TAA’s in your back garden would be when they came back in. They played for what felt like ages outside in the freezing cold while you got started on dinner. You could hear Teddy’s squeals, giggles, and ‘dada’s’ from inside. You were thrilled knowing that she’d be exhausted after Trent ran her ragged and would fall right to sleep tonight.

When you woke up the following morning Trent was feeling particularly handsy with you. Before you had fully even come to his big hands were kneading your boobs his thumbs lightly brushing over your nipples under the lacey blue pajamas you were in.

“Well good morning to you to baby.” You breathily giggled pushing your ass back into his morning hard on thinly covered by his boxers. You turned around still keeping yourself wrapped in his arms and pushed your nose against his. Trent’s hands drifted down your body to your hips and he pulled you tighter into him.

“Good morning to the sexiest girl in the world. I had a dream about you last night and let me tell you… wow.” He spoke with a morning raspiness in his voice that was unintentionally really turning you on.

“Really? Better than in real life?” You responded back, flickering your eyes between his sleepy brown ones and his perfectly plump lips silently suggesting that you play out whatever happened in his wet dream right now.

“Well…” Trent began speaking and your eyes shot open ready to be offended. “Relax…” he squeezed you. “Hold on, was just trying to say that sometimes I’m not entirely sure I’m not just dreaming every time I’m in bed with you. I don’t think it’s possible for someone to be so good, skin to be this soft,” he dragged his fingers purposefully up and down your side sending a shiver of anticipation up your spine. “ lips be so pillowy, god..” He groaned, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip as his other hand began to wander all over your body with much more intention. “These tits, just there's no way this is real life. You can’t possibly be real.” He rattled on with a more serious tone than you would’ve expected. You thought maybe he would have fallen into a joking manner but Trent was serious. He really felt that way. He was in a trance looking at you this morning.

“Maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m only just for you, made for you.” You teased wrapping your hands around the back of his head and gently pulling him into you for a kiss.

“Made for me. Just my real life angel, yeah?” He whispered, ghosting his lips over yours. Your lips falling into open mouth kisses. You moaned into his mouth when one of his hands dropped towards your panty covered pussy. He dragged his finger teasingly over the dampening fabric.

“If I’m your angel, baby then what does that make you?” You asked him almost out of breath pulling away from the vulgar kiss moving your lips and kisses over his jaw and down onto his neck.

“I don’t know but hell, baby you make me want to fucking sin.” Trent groaned as he rolled his head to the side giving you more room to nip away at his sensitive skin. He was in a mood the morning and you were onto it.

“I need you” You murmured against his skin desperately. You could feel your pussy pulsating and growing hot just from his teasing touch. Trent was salivating at the thought of you long before you’d even woken up. You could’ve had some sort of gradual build up or foreplay but you both were too hasty, too eager, you needed each other, you couldn’t wait. He fucked the daylights out of you. Orgasm after orgasm and yet you craved more.

“You’re just insatiable, aren’t you?” Trent smirked at you as he lined his cock up with your sopping wet entrance for round two. The sheets of your bed were practically damp sticking to your skin. You had no idea how long you and Trent had been going at for but you were thanking your lucky stars that Teddy had yet to wake up because you didn’t want this to end.

“I just want more and more of you, baby.” You begged pulling Trent by his hips into you again. He slowly pushed himself into your warm velvety pussy. You wrapped your legs around him greedily. You dragged him into a messy kiss moaning into his mouth when his cock hit deeper inside of you.

“Good, because I can’t get enough. Be a good girl and take all of me.” He pulled away from the kiss and whispered back, a soft smile lining his lips. “Fuck, baby you feel so good.” He muttered out as you did as instructed, taking every inch of him to the hilt. His voice still plagued by a morning raspiness that had you a mess beneath him. Trent bottomed out with a grunt as you clenched around him.

“T…baby.” You whined feeling euphoric in a way that it felt like you were fucking him for the very first time. You’d been so horny for him lately. Your emotions were all over the place. You were sad one minute or stressed the next hour and then happy the following day, it was constantly changing but the one thing that never shook, never faltered and would probably never change was how fucking bad you wanted Trent.he was addicting. He could see the emotions play out on your face; love, lust, pleasure, and your pure vulnerability with him. You’d let him do anything, you trusted his love for you.

“I know, baby. I’m right here. Doing so good f’me.” He whispered, leaning his forehead down against your shoulder. He slid his face up into your neck and placed gentle kisses to your skin as he began to thrust into you, creating the perfect rhythm, the symphony of your moans, his groans, the sound of your skin, pornographic. Both of you were incredibly sensitive after your orgasmic first round. You tightened your pussy’s grip around Trent’s length and he shivered. Your face falling into an ‘o’ as your brows pinched. Something about this felt different. He felt so good despite you being so sore so sensitive. You weren’t sure sex had ever felt this good, you had no idea why, it was a random weekday morning, but you were not complaining. “I know, I know, baby. So good f’me.” Trent continued coaching you through stretching you out more and more as his soft plump lips grazed over your slick skin. He breathed you in with a groan. Your scent drove him crazy. He was so in love with you. Every bit of you. Every feature had him down terribly bad. No amount of time together would ever be enough for either of you. He needed all of you all the time. As desperate as you had been feeling, you had dragged Trent into the depths of the emotion with you and right now you were both benefiting from its repercussions. Your eyes began to water from the pleasurable feeling of his strokes but more so from the eye contact you two were holding, the emotion behind his eyes had you having a hard time swallowing. “I love you so much, baby. I love you. You have no idea, so fucking much.” Trent babbled away getting lost in you, his voice certain in his words. “I love you so much it could kill me.” Trent’s thrust faltered a little. He meant that. You were all consuming to him.

“I love you, T. I love you so much. I couldn’t live without you. I love you, I love you, I… I…” You babbled back to him just the same, lost in your feelings, tears streaming down your face . Your words only halted by the gasp and sudden intake of air you sucked in when Trent’s hand dropped in between you two working his fingers in tight circles over your clit. He was pounding into you aggressively and yet he never felt more loving. He gripped your thigh with his free hand, his fingers digging into the plushness of you pushing it up to your chest. He dropped his face down simultaneously and began to suck on one of your nipples. He was doing so much at once you couldn’t focus. You were completely at his mercy, submissive to any way he folded your body and you loved every single second of it.

“I’m gonna fill you up, baby. I’m gonna cum again. Fuck you feel so good. Can you cum with me?” Trent’s words were muffled by his face buried in your tits. You could barely respond. All you could do was moan and whine out his name. “Hmm? Can you cum f’me?” He asked again as your thighs shook. You weren’t sure how many times you had orgasmed this morning. You nodded pathetically unable to even identify where you were. You were holding it together by the flimsiest of threads. It wasn’t exactly a big ask to let it snap. Your orgasm came before his, crashing over you, your pleasure always his priority. You squirmed under him as you creamed all on his throbbing cock. Trent groaned as you clenched tighter around him. He drew out his high thrusting into you still. He didn’t let you come down, he just layered a secondary orgasm on top of the last. You felt a type of blissful delirium you could never articulate with words, it was indescribably good. Trent let out a filthy groan as he hit his own climax. Your eyes rolled back and your heels dragged down his muscular back as you felt him fill you up as promised, pumping you full. His warm release leaking out between you two still connected. Trent lazily kissed you as he stilled, laying his body weight onto you. If you could, you wished he could just stay inside you forever. It was like this was the safest, most comfortable you could be. It was what you had been craving. Him. You needed him. At the beginning of your relationship with him, day one in fact Trent was adamant telling you that you were his. He’d tell you ‘you’re mine’ on repeat and you had a hard time believing it. How he knew that, thought that so early on. Sometimes you wondered how he had such foresight because right now as he rolled over and pulled you to lay on top of him you stared into your husband’s beautiful mahogany puppy dog eyes that you hard time wrapping your head around that they could also do all the dirty things he had just done with you, you knew he was right from the start. You were his and he was yours. You cupped his cheeks with your hands and rested your slightly slick forehead against his. The glow on your face had Trent pink lips curling into a tired smirk. His hands caressed your bare back up and down your spine with a hum as your erratic breaths slowly began to even out. You ran one hand over his hair and smiled.

“Even after all this time, no matter how many years go by, lifetimes we could live in, it will always be you.” You quietly told him. He hummed and kissed the bridge of your nose.

“In this lifetime and the next and even in my dreams. It’s you.” He hushly spoke with a stoic expression. “I used to build dreams about you. You’ve made my life a dream, baby. I’m not sure I’ve woken up since I met you.” He mused and you felt your heart falter.

“I will always find you, T. In each one, I’m meant to be yours.” You cooed, brushing your nose back and forth over his. “I’ve been missing this…” you sighed. “Missing you so much lately. Sometimes I feel like I was missing you before we even met.” You confessed imagining the same warm honey hue his eyes had on 78th street that they did right now.

“You are mine. My baby, my angel, my pretty girl, my everything, my whole world, my forever. You, Y/N are it.” He kept his eyes fixed on you, confirming his sincerity. He was right, you weren’t sure it was possible to be anything but a dream. This was a love you could only dream of.

“Annnndd she’s ours.” You giggled hearing a stir come from a monitor off on your bedside table. You turned the screen towards you and kissed Trent’s nose.

“I’m holding Teddy, relaxxxx.” Trent laughed as you slipped your hands under his t-shirt running your nails over his abs. He was stood holding your little girl as you stood in your laundry room on a mission to find a very specific shirt that Teddy was very clear she needed to wear today. You followed Trent around all day after that dream like morning sex.

“I can’t stop thinking about this morning.” You whispered behind the shell of his ear, pushing your body into his from behind. He rolled his eyes and moved Teddy from his hip to sit on the machine. He turned and grabbed your face rashly and you giggled uncontrollably when he began to nuzzle himself against your neck, nipping at your skin.

“I will take care of you tonight, alright? Don’t I always?” He cooed to you sliding his big hands over the curve of your ass. You hummed.

“Dada me too!” Teddy without fail felt left out. She saw the beaming smile on your face left by her dad and she was jealous. Trent turned around quickly, letting go of you, completely smitten with him, and scooped Teddy up blowing raspberries against her skin sillily.

“T… baby.” You whined, squeezing him as tight as you could, nuzzling your face into his cotton t-shirt under you. You’d been so clingy to Trent and especially after the type of sex you’d been having lately you were practically glued to him.

“Come gimme a kiss, baby.” Trent cooed as you laid in bed that night. He pulled you tight to him with a kiss to your lips first and then he kissed your temple. You wiggled your body into him to be as physically close as possible. You whined his name hiding your face in his neck. “So needy for me, huh? You promise everything’s okay, sweet girl? You’re making me a little nervous. I'm not gonna lie. I mean you’ve been eating fine I thought. You’ve been doing so well with Ted, you and I’ve been fine but it just feels…” he paused, taking a deep breath not sure how to quite articulate how you’ve been acting and why it was giving him a bit of anxiety without upsetting you. Although to be fair, he had every right to be worried after the year and half you’d had with your health.

“I just… I don’t know. You’re right everything is okay I guess. I just feel really needy like you said. Like I just want to be with you all the time and then today I just felt so nauseous all day. I’ve been waking up so fatigued. Ted has so much more energy now as well and all I want to do is just squish her and hold her with me all day and it’s kind of sad she doesn’t want that anymore. She wants to run and play which is amazing and I’m glad she’s happy and goofy but like I’m tired.” You cooed sadly to Trent wallowing in the fact that your baby girl was getting older whether you liked it or not.

“Baby, she does want that. Ted loves a cuddle with her mummy. She just also wants to learn and explore. It’s good that she’s independent and curious. You know if you really asked her she’d always come and give you a big cuddle and in between those times where maybe she just wants to mess about, you always have me. I’m here. I love a cuddle with mummy.” He kissed your lips gently with a hum. “I’m sorry you haven’t been feeling well, baby. I’ll keep my eye on you, alright? Just tell me whenever you need me. I’m always here for you.” He whispered, keeping his lips tight to you ghosting over yours.

“I know. I love you, T. Can you just hold me all night? I don’t want to be apart.” You asked him fairly sadly, feeling a bit pathetic with yourself. He hummed with his eyes closed pulling you tighter into him. “Thank you. Night, baby.” You kissed his bare chest squishing your face into him. He mumbled a ‘night, beautiful’ into your hair.

“Hey, baby, what are you doing awake so early?” Trent grumbled with a raspy voice sitting himself up in bed moving back to lean onto your headboard seeing you sneak out of the bathroom back towards bed. He frowned at you. You were an early riser but it was really fucking early, this was abnormal. He pulled the blankets down for you to get back in. “Good morning, beautiful girl. How we feeling today?” He cooed more gently watching you cautiously and slowly bring your body back onto the mattress. He pulled you back into him, wrapping you in his warm embrace.

“I’ve gotten sick twice this morning already. I didn’t want to wake you. I think I caught a bug or something.” You pouted nuzzling into Trent. “T, I feel horrible. I feel so sick. Every day I feel like I’ve gotten worse this week. I… I just..” You stuttered, getting your words out and started to cry unable to hold back the emotion. “I can’t keep up with her today. I can’t do it. I feel so exhausted I can’t manage her on my own. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m the worst. It’s my only job and I can’t do it” You started crying more and more, feeling horrible, admitting to the fact that taking care of Teddy seemed like it would be an impossible task.

“Beautiful, you’re doing amazing. You’re such an incredible mum. Baby, this is not your only job, you do so much. Also, this is one of the hardest jobs in the world. It is really hard. Please don’t say you’re sorry to me. I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well. What can I do?” He spoke gently to you feeling like if he raised his volume even a little above a whisper it would bruise you.

“T… I’m failing.” You croaked out embarrassed by the fear you’d be unable to take care of your daughter today.

“You’re not. Come here, sweetheart. Can you stay in bed for me today? I’ll make Ted breakfast and call my mum. I’ll ask her to take her today. She can handle that very cute bundle of energy. Just take today to rest please. I’ll make sure you’re okay, head to training a little late, and if you need me, even to just get you a tea, you call me and I’ll come right home. If not, then I’ll be home as fast as I can right after training back to my beautiful girl. Hmm?” He cooed and you sighed a sad ‘ok.’ Trent did as he said, he got himself dressed for training, he woke Teddy up, got her changed and downstairs for breakfast, then came knocking at your door a little while later.

“Mummy’s a little sleepy so we have to be quiet, okay?” You could hear Trent whisper to Teddy as they walked into your bedroom. Teddy trailed Trent clinging to his joggers as he carried a water and a cup of tea in his hands for you.

“Baby, how do ya feel?” He spoke softly rubbing his hand over your head after putting the drinks down on your bedside table. You rolled over more onto your side to get a better look at them. You just hummed with a soft smile as Teddy haphazardly climbed up into your bed and squirmed her way into your embrace.

“Mama, morning time. Why still sleepy?” She asked you and you didn’t even have the energy to try to get into your current state so you just kissed her forehead. “Know I lub you most.” She said to you with a dramatic whisper. She was trying hard to whisper the best she knew how but it was more like just speaking more breathy at regular volume.

“I know Ted. Thank you, baby. I love you the most. Mummy’s just a little extra sleepy.” You cooed meekly, kissing her cheek. “You’re going to have such a good day with Nana today though. That’ll be much more fun.” You told her hoping you could convince her that it’d be fun and you knew it would be once she got there. Dianne was amazing with Teddy, of course, but you knew Teddy well enough to know that no matter how fun something like this would be, if there was no mummy or daddy it was going to be a hard sell.

“Want stay with you, tay?” She informed you as anticipated. You gave her a sympathetic grin appreciating how attentive she was to you but you needed her to go to Dianne’s so you mustered all the strength you had to sit up a little in bed. Trent moved quickly to grab Teddy from you and plop her off the bed onto her own two feet. Your weakness and what you assumed to be a run down body was apparent to him.

“No, no, you want to go play and sing and dance, you don’t want to lay with me all day, silly girl. Plus you haven’t gotten to tell Nana all about how well you’ve been taking care of the doggies too, right?” You cooed to her cupping her cheek as she leaned her body goofily onto the bed to stay close to you. She gave you a disappointed nod of the head. Teddy had been taking it upon herself to help out more and more with your two dogs. It was sweet and she was very very proud of herself. It didn’t really relieve any of the actual duties of care from you or Trent but it was cute. “And then when you come home you have to tell me every single fun thing you did with Nana. I want to hear every bit, cute girl.” You smiled at her trying to reinforce the idea that her day would be well worth her going and leaving you.

“Will miss. Mama know I lub, tay?” She told you once more. It was cute. You knew she did but again, getting her to leave you was not an easy task. Frankly, you would have loved to cuddle up with your baby girl all day right now but that is definitely not something she had the attention span for. Your energy levels at the minute couldn’t have been more opposite.

“Okay, baby. I know, I’ll miss you too. Go ahead please. Have fun.” You cooed gently and quietly as you laid back down defeated into your pillow feeling another wave of nausea wash over you again. You had a horrible migraine that not even closing your eyes was making it dark enough for you to feel more at ease. Before Trent went downstairs you scribbled on a post it note in your room and had told him to pack something for Teddy as an aid to get her to be a bit more happy once they got to Diannes.

“Thanks mum for watching her. I told you Y/N thinks she just caught a bug or something. She was up early sick so really appreciate you taking Ted.” Trent spoke to Dianne in the foyer of her house as Teddy clung to his leg in an effort to not let him get to training. He was attempting to drop Teddy off and make it to training on time, to avoid a team fine but Teddy was being stubborn.

“No problem, hun. Everything alright? I haven’t heard that anything is going around.” Dianne brushed her hand over Teddy’s curls but kept her gaze on Trent with a raised brow. Trent gave her a confused look in return not sure what her suspicious face was for. Dianne dropped it though and smiled with a shake of the head. “We’re going to have a fun day, right my Teddy girl? What do you want to do today?” She asked sweetly to Teddy.

“Be with my mama, nana.” Teddy answered her sadly with a signature pout and puppy dog eyes Dianne was now enduring the second generation of. Teddy had inherited Trent’s beautiful face and certainly the same face that had people around them crumbling.

“Oh, I know. Mummy is the best but you’ll see her soon. How about we go play outside, we can watch a movie, we can make you some yummy food.” Dianne paused seeing Teddy’s face unchanged. Nothing she offered her was going to be better than being with you but she’d try one last effort she knew was Teddy’s latest fixation “We can color.” She drew out the word with a smile, squinting her eyes a little seeing Teddy’s face immediately respond to the option.

“Oh I know that look… I think you heard something you like, huh?” Trent cooed, coming to squat down next to Teddy, their faces now level. Teddy loved coloring and she was getting better and better at it. ‘Better’ is subjective but her progress had Trent singing her praises and she was eating it up. It was a nice activity for her and you liked how careful she was with all the markers and supplies you’d get her. She took care of it all and put everything back neatly. Trent said it was bizarre but you loved that she inherited a sense of organization and meticulousness from you. It was adorable. “Did you check in your bag we brought yet? I think there’s something special in there” He asked her as he reached behind him to grab her pink Stoney Clover backpack with her own ‘TAA’ initials on it and bring it towards them. She unzipped it slowly not understanding that this was something to be excited about. But there it was inside, a brand new pack of markers you had gotten for her, you had planned to give her at some point but no time like the present. Trent had stuck the post it note you’d written on to the packaging.

‘Show Nana how well you color, my Teddy bear. I love you so so much. Love mummy xx’

“Wow Teddy! Your mummy must love you so much! I think we should color today then if mummy gave those to you.” Dianne cooed excitedly watching Teddy’s smile grow and grow on her face and her eyes go wide, absolutely gassed about the markers.

“C’mere baby. Let’s read what mummy wrote on this little note for you.” Trent pulled Teddy into him and held the sticky note in front of them and helped her work through the worlds, essentially just Trent reading to her. When they finished, Teddy giggled and hugged the pack of markers to her chest. “Aw baby, you’re so excited. So you have to do what mummy said, yeah? Gonna show Nana how good you are at coloring with your new markers?” Trent cooed before kissing her cheek. Teddy nodded and for the first time since they entered the house took steps away from Trent. They said goodbye and Teddy took off to a little table and chairs for toddlers Dianne had at her house for her. Teddy knew exactly where it was and she couldn’t wait any longer to get there.

Trent drove home after a long fairly thought provoking training session. All day at AXA he couldn’t shake the thought of his mum’s questioning look when he said you were sick. As he was stopped at the traffic light before he entered your neighborhood, the possibility smacked him in the face. He gasped and leant his head back onto the headrest of his seat in the car, eyes wide. Trent puffed out some air and shook his head with a stupid grin. He couldn’t wait to get home.

“Beautiful, can I ask you something and please don’t take it the wrong way.” Trent asked you about an hour after he’d gotten home. He had checked in and made sure you were okay before he began his probe. You hummed not thinking about anything other than how shitty you felt today. “Ermm…” Trent paused, getting a little nervous to ask his question, beginning to second guess himself but he mustered up the courage after he took a deep breath and looked at you. He looked deep in your eyes and he sighed. He knew you. He knew you so well, he couldn’t be wrong. “When was the last time you got your period?” He asked you and you tilted your head confused and then you felt your stomach sink.

“Oh my fucking god…” You gasped and felt your soul just about leave your body. You were not being careful in the slightest in bed but it wasn’t like you’d been actively trying. You were more shocked that you hadn’t thought about this possibility though. You couldn’t help it, you just started balling your eyes out. Your tears felt like they were just endlessly flowing.”I… I… I can’t be. No.” You stuttered out the words. Trent was a little confused because, just as well as he knew you, he could tell these were not tears of joy or excitement, this was fear. Your emotions were all over the map lately and uncontrollable, it should’ve been obvious.

“Baby… Are you okay? C’mere please.” Trent sat down on the bed and pulled you into his embrace. He was holding your body up for you. You were in a completely blanked state. You couldn’t think. “Let’s just take a test alright? Let’s find out. It could just be a bug, I could be wrong. You’re gonna be okay, I promise.” Trent tried to comfort you.

“I can’t know…” You muttered out. You felt the words leave your mouth and you knew that wasn’t possible so you sighed. You squeezed Trent. “Can you come with me?” You looked up at him with teary eyes, water clumping in your eyelashes. Your bottom lip rolled into a quivering pout.

“Yeah, baby, of course. I’ll be there the whole time.” Trent cooed and helped you up from the bed. You had a few extra pregnancy tests in the cupboard of the bathroom stashed away for a situation like this but you kind of thought you’d be more prepared to take them when the time came. Trent got one out for you and handed it to you. When you took it he grabbed your hand and pulled it to him. He kissed your hand. “Whatever, absolutely whatever any test says. I love you and you will be okay.”

“Can you turn around?” You mumbled out embarrassed. Trent gave you a cheeky smirk silently saying ‘really, baby… I’ve seen you in labor. I don’t think you peeing is going to be all that big of a deal.’ It lightened your stone heart momentarily but when he did what you asked and turned around, you lost eye contact with his support and your heart hardened again. The thing was it’s not that you were massively opposed to another baby, it just was so overwhelming. There were a lot of factors at play. You were so stressed by how you would manage two babies so little when Trent had to be away for football. Today you couldn’t even get out of bed. What would happen if you had two babies and he was out of the country? Another reason, god, what if a postpartum depression came back worse this time around. Last time you were borderline suicidal.

“T, baby, I can’t… I’m sorry I’m so scared.” Tears began to fill your lash line again you stood up and Trent turned around. You placed the cap back onto the test and hugged Trent. In a backwards way his comfort triggered your tears to begin to fall again more rapidly.

“My beautiful girl, put this here.” He grabbed the test and put it on your sink counter. “You, my amazing wife, Teddy’s amazing mummy, you come with me. I got the timer. All you need to do is come and give me the best cuddle you’ve ever given me in your whole life, okay?” He moved you to come lay on top of your bed and pulled you into his embrace. He held you securely but gently whispering ‘I love you’ on repeat again and again quietly into your hair. After the alotted 5 minutes or so the sound of the alarm blaring from Trent's phone made you jump, wince, and your heart stop all at once. You were about to find out if you’d be a family of 4 and you also felt like you were about to be sick..

“Can you look? Sorry I’m being such a… I don't know I’m such a mess. I’m sorry baby.” You mumbled into his cotton t-shirt that you had now soaked with your tears.

“Baby shhh. Shhh, okay? You stay right here. I will go get it. Just you stay here and be my beautiful dream girl.” Trent let go of you and you felt like you could cry more just losing his comforting hold momentarily. He picked up the test in the ensuite and stifled his gasp. His smile was massive but he shook it off his face and looked down at a very clear positive pregnancy test. He came back into the room and he had a smile you usually hated to see one that was sympathetic and a little sad. “Y/N…” He whispered, stroking his hand over your head. “You’re pregnant. It says we’re pregnant. It’s positive, baby.” As the words rolled off his tongue Trent couldn’t suppress the smile he really felt. He was beaming, ecstatic but as you heard the words fall out his mouth you felt sick.

“Oh…” You sighed with disappointment in your voice. “Oh my god. Look how happy you are. I should be. I’m the worst fucking mum in the world. Fuck. I’m so sorry.” You looked up at Trent with swollen red eyes from all your tears. “T…How did you know?” You croaked out curious what made him think of this when you hadn’t. You felt so stupid honesty. How could you not see it. You were beating yourself up internally.

“Don’t know, baby. Just instinct. I think I know you pretty well.” He laughed shyly, running his hand behind his neck. “You were so cuddly and getting sick and It just felt like last time a little bit and baby… we…” Trent started to laugh with a gentle smile coming to give you a cuddle. “We fuck a lot.” He continued his laugh. You couldn’t help but at least crack a small smile.

“I guess better than I know myself.” You sighed realizing that Trent probably did know you better than you knew yourself. “T… it’s just… I just got my body back to a place I wasn't grossed out by.” You whimpered pushing your face into his chest upset by the idea of going through the lovely bodily changes of pregnancy again. You’d been working so hard in the gym to get fit and with your care team to get healthy.

“Baby, we’ll do whatever you need.” Trent unexpectedly told you. He was calm with his words but the sentiment was kind of insane. You wouldn’t dream of not having this baby because of something so selfish like appearance. Trent didn’t see it as selfish he saw it as your mental wellbeing. But you thought you wanted babies with Trent, plural.

“T, stop.. it’s not just my decision.” You lashed out at him pulling yourself off him in a flustered state. You felt your tears fill your eyes again. You pulled your legs up onto the bed and wrapped your arms around them, pulling your knees tight to your chest.

“I know, I know but baby we’re going to do what’s best for you though.” Trent sighed, rubbing his hand over your smooth leg. He meant it. He did. He wanted to do what was best for you but the thought of getting pregnant and then deciding not to go through with it made him a little sick.

“I need a minute alone.” You snapped standing up prioritizing your own feelings, unable to look at him. You knew the expression you could imagine was on his face would be heartbreaking. It was a really emotionally conflicting thing. He tried to call out to you but knew better and just let you go. You locked the door of the en suite and slid down the back of it, seating yourself on the floor. You cried and cried raking your brain if you were ready for this. Were you an okay mum? Would you be disappointing Trent if you decided not to have another baby? Would you be doing a disservice to this unborn baby by having him or her? You were terrified of falling back into a depressive state but as you rested your forehead onto your knees in front of you, you clocked a tiny silver frame on the marble countertop above you out of the corner of your eye. You sighed seeing matching toothy grins of the two people you loved more than anything in the world. More than yourself. You could almost hear the photo of Trent telling Teddy to say cheese. Her babbling out her attempt, something like a ‘cheebs.’ You kept crying but not because you were questioning yourself, or your abilities but because of how in love you were with being a mum, having this family. Your family was everything to you, the three of you and now the possibility of a fourth didn’t sound so bad. Another cute voice learning to ‘cheese’ in photos with the best husband and dad in the world, the love of your life didn’t sound so bad. It took you a bit of time but you eventually pulled it together.

“T…” you whispered coming back into the bedroom. You sighed and ran your hands over your face feeling guilty inspecting Trent’s body language. He was more upset than you anticipated. He wasn’t pouting intentionally, he just really wanted this. This was the best news ever for him but he was trying to talk himself down and to the fact you might want to get rid of the pregnancy. “I want this…” you cooed hugging him from behind as he laid curled up on the bed.

“C’mere, baby.” You could audibly hear him let out a deep breath. He turned to face you and pulled you tight into an embrace, tucking your head under his chin. “If you…” he began to talk.

“I want this, okay? This baby… I do.” You interrupted him, stopping what he was going to tell you, clarifying that you were certain about this.

“If it’s not the right time for us or it’s too much.” Trent was persistent with his thoughts. He kissed your head trying to tell you that no matter what he’d be there but it was breaking his heart and you could hear it in his voice.

“Stop… I really do.” You pulled your head out from against him to look him in the eyes. You were serious. You wouldn’t change your mind. You wanted a second baby.

“Yeah? You’re sure you can? You can’t do this for me.” He haphazardly got the words out not sure how to express what he was feeling. The last thing Trent wanted to do was put pressure on you.

“It’s not for you. It’s for us.” You hummed with a soft smile. Your lips began to curl more and more. Both you and Trent could feel the tension in the room evaporating. He gave you a questioning look silently so you spoke again. “I always thought we’d have like multiple kids. I don’t know. Right? Wasn’t that what we wanted?” You giggled a little trying to recall the exact plans or discussions you had had in the past. It all felt a little blurry thought. “Like not in a weird way but don’t you think it’d be silly for us to not at least try for a boy.” You smiled at him imagining a little boy.

“I think it’ll be another girl but I get your sentiment. C’mere, baby. I love you so much.” Trent cupped your face and gently pulled you into a kiss that felt like heaven. It felt like relief. You smiled into it, starting to laugh imagining another baby in the house. “Let’s have Ted sleep at my mum’s. Just need to be with my favorite girl tonight.” Trent cooed and although you wanted to correct him with a tease telling him you knew Teddy had replaced you as favorite you just hummed. “Baby… I’m really really happy. I love being a dad. I love our family.” Trent whispered into your hair kissing your head a few times.

“You’re the best daddy. Just the best, baby. It looks good on you too.” You giggled a little more picturing how good he looked carrying Teddy around, you assumed a second would only double the attraction. You were only able to kiss at his neck from your close proximity and his hold of you, limiting any movement. “T… I’m a little scared though.” You got out the obvious fear you were harboring after a couple quiet minutes embraced in a hug.

“I know, beautiful. You can be scared but you got me the whole way. You’re so strong. You can do this.” Trent tried to put you at ease with encouragement.

“Are you excited?” You meekly and sheepishly asked him, trying to divert from a more serious conversation and confessional about your fears. You could guess the answer but you wanted to hear him say it.

“I am gassed right now, seriously? Creating a life with you, having a family? It’s an absolute dream.” Trent looked at you confused with a furrowed brow. How could you not know that he thought that.

“You’re such a good daddy.” You sighed hugging him. You breathed him in. His scent wrapped around you, calming all your fears by just simply being there with you.

“Think I do okay?” He asked you with a bit of smugness in his tone. You smiled with your face still hidden pressed against his neck. You loved Trent’s cheek.

“Yeah, really the best. Ted… and I guess this little baby here are so lucky.” You cooed, moving your hand to your still flat stomach. Trent let his eyes flutter closed and moved his hand to lay over top of yours. He kissed your forehead as a silent ‘thank you.’ He could never properly thank you for giving him a family of his dreams but you were just the same. There were no words.

Trent was fucking beaming when he picked up Teddy from Dianne’s the next day. Call it a mother’s intuition but Dianne knew something was up. She easily put two and two together but bit her tongue letting you two have your privacy. You had called your doctors and made the appointment to find out for real how far along you might’ve been. Like Trent said, you had sex a lot you had no idea when this could’ve happened.

“I missed you baby bear. You had so much fun with Nana huh?” Trent cooed to Teddy looking through his rearview mirror back to her tucked in her carseat in his big car.

“Told dada.” She quipped fairly sassily. Teddy inheriting Trent’s own personality traits was biting him in the ass. His eyes widened.

“Well, I know but I’m just asking sheesh, Ted. Are you going to give Mama your pretty drawing when we get back home? She’ll be so happy to see you. I know she’ll love it” Trent continued on. When Dianne had handed over all of Teddy’s things from her impromptu sleepover to Trent she had to make sure, per Teddy’s instructions, that her artwork she’d made was kept nice and safe because it had to get to it’s recipient, you, safely. You had a museum full of Teddy drawings, each one priceless… to you. Likes squiggles on a paper to a stranger.

“Yeah huh, for my mama.” She mumbled getting distracted fixating on the little tray of her car seat filled with cheerios just moving them around. She had complained that she was hungry and couldn’t wait till she got home but evidently not enough to eat said cereal. Trent winced every time he heard Teddy crumble one up littering his car with crumbs. Anyone else… he’d be fuming.

“We’re gonna stop at the shop first, okays?” Trent told Teddy. She just gave him a ‘tay’ as expected. Trent parked his car in your local town shopping center ahead of getting back home because he wanted to get you some flowers. He held Teddy’s hand as they fumbled around the florist letting her decide the color of flowers. He knew chrysanthemums weren’t your favorite flower but Teddy was adamant that you would like the pink color which she was sort of right. In her defense, she did have the experience Trent did. She hadn’t been buying you flowers just about every month for the past 5 plus years.

“You know what, Ted? You get mummy the pink flowers, okay? And dada will get her white ones.” Trent decided two bouquets would work then, one from your babies, Teddy and your new addition, and one from your baby, Trent.

“Tay, mama like pink doe.” Teddy stayed set on the fact that you’d want the pink and Trent was wrong. It was a battle of two of the same people. Neither would concede but Trent realized he was in his mid twenties and Teddy hadn’t even hit three, so he compromised despite a tinge of confidence that he knew you liked the bouquets he usually got for you, luxurious, lavish, chic. Teddy did have the advantage of her handing over her pink cute flowers with chubby cheeks raised in a smile indented with dimples. To be fair though Trent had those dimples too. As they left the shop walking to the car two excited young men stopped them asking for a selfie with Trent. Trent was hesitant, shy, and protective of Teddy, moving his hand to her back pushing her to him but of course he obliged. “Yeah, no worries mate.” Trent ushered the kids away from him after they got the photo as Teddy stood wrapped around his leg swinging her tiny body back and forth impatiently.

“Dada, how come piture?” Teddy asked inquisitively, confused why people were stopping her daddy in the car park.

“Erm… they just know daddy from footie.” Trent answered her as simply as possible. She gave him a ponderous ‘oh’ and then went quiet as he put her into her car seat.

“Why?” Teddy pipped up again, still pressed about what just happened. You had officially entered the ‘why’ stage of toddlerhood.

“You know when you watch daddy at Anfield or when you and mummy watch the matches on the telly?” Trent cooed gently pushing a fallen curl behind her ear. “They like the way daddy plays the game so they watch dada on tv too.” Trent further elaborated for her.

“Ohs cause my dada bests.” She adorably tacked on to his explanation. Trent hummed in agreement with a soft smile. “But, dada…” Teddy cooed, continuing her thought looking to Trent who was getting into the drivers side. “Mine and mama’s, tay?” She spoke up, wanting to just cement and confirm that those guys could appreciate Trent and take a photo but Trent was in fact hers.

“Yeah, course. Only yours, baby bear.” Trent smiled back at her, kissing his hand and pressing it to her little legs dangling in her seat. He liked her possessiveness over him. “Let's go give mama her flowers and your drawing.” he cooed with a smile and a wink back in the mirror to her.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🤍

Next part - Chapter 29 xx

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