#dark riders: yes. and?

[starbornsoulrider]

love the idea of the dark riders begrudgingly getting attached to Halo until they eventually start looking out for them as much as the other soul riders do without even realizing it

in the middle of an intense battle against each other or smth, Halo rides too close to a cliff and the SRs and DRs are both like “WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING” (DRs being slightly more aggressive about it) and then both sides just kinda look at each other like:

soul riders: ???

dark riders, completely deadpan: what. they were gonna fall

[polarisbibliotheque]

Hey Polaris, hope this helps as a vent piece:

Anger is one of the main traits of demons. Everyone's anger has manifested outward at least some point yet, one person keeps it under Heavy lock and key, Dante.

One day, the anger manifests in its destructive, gruesome and targeted anger in his Sin Devil Trigger as it manifests when that last patient strand snaps.

So here's the prompt:

As Reader wakes up from a hard hit, once fully back to full consciousness, they witness that destructive rage that Dante kept under lock and key. Nearby, Vergil is protectively standing in front of Reader but something's wrong, his hands quivering as he keeps Yamato out in front of him. The real question now pops into Reader's head, how do you calm to a blazing inferno that's unrestrained and now in full swing?

Dante going on a full Sin Devil Trigger rampage (or, very angry Dante)

Pairing: Dante x Reader

Summary: Vergil wasn't one to fear easily - but one thing he would always dread to see; and that would be Dante losing his humanity.

Trigger Warning: Reader stops breathing and is seemingly dead for a while. Lots of blood, lots of anger, lots of self-loathing on this one (they all need therapy)

Author's Note: Oh boy, this was a conversation I was having with dear Fury: how Dante is 10/10 the scariest when he's mad because he keeps his demon on a leash *cough* Subhuman *cough* and he's the one everyone should fear when going berserk, not Vergil. With all the requests I'm having, currently, Fury decided to leave this suggestion out until I had a little more time to write...

Fast forward a few weeks, I'm having issues with a couple of ~friends~ and, honestly, I haven't been this angry in years. To the point of trembling, laughing like a maniac, and wanting to fistfight the gods. Hence, Fury sent me this vent piece so I could satisfy my wrath in a more ~healthy~ way. Hope you guys like it, though, Dante needs a big ol' hug and someone to openly cry too, not just Vergil.

Again, they all need therapy

Not many things could stir fear in Vergil’s heart.

Mundus’ voice, silently taunting him in the back of his head, the memory of everything he had been through in Hell was one of those things. The other one was his twin’s fury.

It was a rare thing for him to grip Yamato with an unsteady pair of hands, putting a lot of effort and strength for them not to tremble – but the sight of Dante completely lost in his bloodlust was not to be trifled with.

The first time Vergil saw it with his own eyes was in Hell, when he and his brother spent a considerable amount of time to cut down the Qliphoth. Vergil was used to the taunts of demons and Dante was as well… Or at least he should be, at that point in their lives.

But the taunts were many. They had been running through the fields of fire without sleep for a couple of days – in the human world, probably, as time had a different flow in Hell – killing everything in sight; and hearing every kind of putrid taunt they could.

What made Dante snap, though, was a simple implication: that it was Dante’s fault that Vergil fell and got subdued by Mundus, suffering endless nightmares for years to come. A strange glint sparked in Dante’s eyes at that moment. The scream that rumbled in his chest was enough to be heard through many layers of Hell.

It wasn’t Dante’s fault, Vergil knew that very well. He had refused to hold his brother’s hand, there was nothing Dante could have done. It was Vergil’s choice, and his sin only. But… For the first time, he saw how much his brother blamed himself for that. How much Dante had suffered, all those years, alone in the human world.

As above, so below… Dante suffered alongside Vergil all those years.

And all of that because of a stupid, childish decision from Vergil’s part. He observed Dante in shock as that realization came down on him – and as he watched the prized human heart of his twin brother seemingly disappear, giving place to a blind, bloodthirsty demon in full Sin Devil Trigger fashion, killing everything in his path.

Vergil stayed away from the destruction, always keeping an eye on his brother… If he could call him that. Dante – the foolish, laidback, talkative, jack of all trades, witty and quippy brother he knew – seemingly was nowhere to be seen. He was gone, and everything left was his demon, with a never-ending thirst for blood.

Not that Vergil hadn’t had moments like those, but he was always alone. He would always find the end of his rage on the floor, exhausted, weak and cold. And so, he waited for Dante’s wrath to wear off – patiently, observing with a heavy heart, sorrow and guilt.

He didn’t enjoy seeing his brother like that.

That was the reason why, when Nico put to vote who was the scariest when angry, you threw your vote at Dante. You and the rest of the crew, except for the Spardas, decided to have a night out at a local diner, just to wind down and have a bit of fun – that sort of talk was a given when you were together.

“Dante, really?” Lady raised one of her eyebrows, staring at you with nothing but doubt in her multicolored eyes. “He can’t hurt even a fly!” When she said that, though, all of the eyes of the group turned at her in disbelief. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been hunting with him for a while. Dante can be a weapon of mass destruction, but he just… He doesn’t have that heart.”

“Hmmm… I think I have to agree with you on that one.” Trish slowly stirred her chocolate milkshake as Lady thanked with a sip of her vanilla one. “Look, I saw him killing Mundus. I saw Dante fighting the greatest and worst of Hell. He can be dangerous, but his human heart doesn’t let him be scary.”

“That is exactly my point.” You were ready to defend your thesis like a lawyer at court.

“Then why the hell would you vote for him as the scariest?” Nico didn’t have a cigarette on her hands because she had been forbidden to smoke inside the diner, but if she had, she would have been pointing at you with it. “Big flamin’ demon got nothin’ on Vergil, that one’s got the eyes of a killer. Got you chillin’ just by lookin’ at you.”

“Vergil doesn’t control his anger that much – I go as far as saying he doesn’t control himself as much as Dante.” And with those words, you won all the shocked looks you could at that evening. You would count that as a feat. “Is Dante a fool of a Tûk, as my dear Gandalf would say? Yes, he is. Is Vergil a walking death omen? Yes, he also is. But, I have talked to him about Dante being angry, and Vergil gave me enough hints to make it very clear Dante doesn’t let all his feelings out – he chooses to pass as a very aloof himbo of a man, but he is far from that. I’ve been his partner for enough time to say I agree with Vergil.”

“You might have a point.” Kyrie took a sip of her strawberry milkshake, as you let a triumphant smile take over your lips. “Dante might be playful, but we all know he has very deep emotions underneath that. It’s just like with Nero and his punk attitude.”

“But instead, he’s a cinnamon bun on the inside.” Nico topped Kyrie’s phrase, provoking some laughs on the group. That was the most accurate description of Nero if you had ever seen one.

“Dante loves his human heart, but he has a certain beef with his demonic one.” You wouldn’t say to the whole group you went as far as to believe he actually loathed his demonic heritage, as that was something too personal, but you had a hunch they all had some suspicions of that deep inside. “He keeps it in check, hidden, tamed. He lashes out when it’s a good time to do so – when fighting demons.” As you started getting some hums of agreement, you sneakily took Trish’s milkshake. “We have never seen Dante actually angry. And I don’t think we ever will.”

“Oh, now you’re makin’ it difficult.” Nico had to ponder those words, even if she couldn’t really see Dante being as dangerous as you said.

“Eh, not for me. I’m still going with Vergil.” Lady shrugged, firm on her opinion as always.

You took a little longer to get to the final vote – discussing what you had just said, as Trish called you out for stealing her milkshake and having it back, only to share it with you – but the answer was almost unanimous: the scariest one on a fit of wrath was Vergil.

Almost, because you kept adamant in voting on your red devil.

Vergil never came to know about all of that, but if he did, he would have agreed with you – not publicly, as he would hold his new title with pride, always content on inspiring fear as a way to keep himself and his loved ones protected. He would, however, agree with you privately, remembering Dante’s display of wrath in Hell.

That was the reason why his hands trembled on Yamato during your latest hunt together – the one where everything went wrong.

If only you would wake up. Maybe he could save Dante’s soul.

It all happened so fast, Vergil didn’t even see how things ended the way they were at the moment. On one second you were fighting by their side, on the other, you were tossed on the floor, soaked in your own blood, chest immobile. Not breathing.

“Y/n! No, y/n!” It was the very first time Vergil saw Dante dropping everything to run towards you. His brother let go of his sword, ignored all demons around and ran as if you were the only being in that godforsaken place. Vergil had to put himself between him and the demons, keeping them at bay as Dante quickly made his way to you. “Y/n! C’mon, babe! Y/n!”

Dante’s knees hit the floor with a loud thud as he dropped all his weight by your side – not feeling anything at the moment, but it would certainly leave a couple of horrid bruises. As his sky-blue eyes met that harrowing sight, desolation filled his face; Dante forgot how to breath for a split second, barely feeling his very own hands, legs tingling as his body seemed to sink in the ground even further.

Vergil stated the very same thing his brother did – and he never thought he could feel that way with the thought of losing you; but there was Vergil, with numbness on his fingers and a sickness in his stomach. You were the little light that Dante had found in his life, one of the only good things that had happened to him during all his damned years of living. Vergil knew how important you were, how only you could make Dante smile with a sincerity he only had seen when they were kids. What would be of his brother – his foolish, stupid, beloved brother – if he lost you to demons as well…?

The answer would come very soon, but not without a fight from Dante’s side.

“C’mon, y/n, open your eyes…!” Dante’s voice trembled, in a way Vergil had never listened to before. He watched as his twin brother desperately tried to bring you back, heavy hands massaging your chest, followed by breathing inside your mouth, and repeating once more. “C’mon, babe… Don’t leave me here…!” Those words were a whisper as he trembled trying to make your heart beat again, giving his breath to you once more so you could also breathe.

The realization washed Dante’s body as a cold wave, as he slowly felt he wasn’t in his body anymore – his body feeling your weight on his hands, but his soul completely out. Maybe flying away to meet yours wherever you were.

But then, a twisted symphony of distorted cackles and mockery ripped through his ears – the realization also came to the demons, and now they gloated with their first victory. Not only that, but humiliated the son of Sparda for losing his own beloved just like his father had lost Eva.

Vergil was ready to unsheathe Yamato and unleash all his fury to cut those demons in million pieces for that lack of respect – and to allow his brother to mourn properly. He himself had to mourn: you were too precious at the Devil May Cry for Vergil not to feel your loss.

But he wouldn’t need that. A deep growl grabbed the Dark Slayer’s attention, making him immediately turn to his brother. Dante got up from the floor with nothing but rage in his eyes bleeding tears, bare teeth as his demonic heritage boiled to rip through his skin and unleash all its fury on his enemies.

If only Dante had waited a single second, he would have realized what Vergil did. He would have heard a faint heartbeat – trembling, but fighting to survive. He would have seen your broken body trying to breath underneath the blood.

Dante killed the first demons with their own weapons, running towards his sword with a scream that only grew in strength. Vergil kneeled by your side, checking your pulse on your neck, staining his hands with your blood but stating what made his heart beat faster: you weren’t lost. Dante had to know.

The floor rumbled. As Vergil turned his attention towards Dante, he immediately turned back to you to protect you with his body. Dante’s scream thundered through the floor, as if it came from the deepest pits of Hell itself – and a thousand degrees exploded in sparks and molten lava as his Sin Devil Trigger took the place of the man who stood there before.

Vergil was used to the flames of Hell, they would not hurt him. But he wasn’t used to the wrath of his brother – and that might be something none of you would be able to recover. Vergil could take the heat of the explosion that took down many demons in its wake, but your human body couldn’t – and that was the reason why he had to do everything in his power to protect you.

Those silvery eyes turned back at Dante, still keeping a protective arm above you. Usually predatorial, now Vergil had nothing but worry in his gaze, watching with desolation as his brother became the bloodthirsty ruthless demon he never was.

In that state, Dante could make mistakes. He could hit you without even realizing. A misplaced use of his power, a wrong swing of his blade, another explosion of million degrees into hellish flames… Vergil could survive, not you. And, if Dante, who hadn’t realized yet you weren’t lost as he thought you were, ended up being the real reason of your demise…

Vergil didn’t even want to think what would happen.

For all he could see at that moment was a demon fiercely fighting other demons – or, better yet, easily subduing and mercilessly slaughtering all of them. And that was something that was so intrinsic to Dante’s heart: his mercy. Having Dante without his mercy, his kindness, his gentleness, his love, was the same as not having him at all… That was the source of his power, like rage was the source of Vergil’s power.

Watching his brother lost in wrath was heart wrenching, but knowing it could get even worse if he was to completely lose his soul was even more harrowing. Dante’s eyes bled his pain, even in that form, as he soaked his whole self in the viscous blood of his enemies – a monster beyond salvation, a creature without a soul, a lover without a heart. A man with his fragile hope crashed into pieces, abandoning everything that made him who he was, to allow himself to find some comfort through burning his own wrath.

For the first time, it downed on Vergil his brother might not come back. If he lost you, if Dante fatally wounded you, Vergil would never have him again – for Dante would lose the very last brink of humanity inside of him; a brink that Vergil couldn’t even see at that moment and didn’t even know if it was still there. Dante’s eyes were red, his growls distorted and animalistic, his power… Greater than Mundus, greater than even Sparda.

If Dante approached, Vergil would have to fight him. His brother wasn’t in a leveled state of mind to see logic – and he could hurt you, even if Dante would never do that. With all that blind wrath, though, Vergil didn’t even know if his brother would answer if he called.

Holding Yamato with a stronger grip than usual, Vergil stood in front of your body, guarding you from whatever harm that could come your way – be it in demon form… Or in his own twin brother form.

The cold hand of fear, though, slowly crept into his heart and held it on its stark clutches. Yes, Vergil spent his whole life sparring with that fool he had to call his brother – hearing Dante’s taunts and impossible physics, as if he didn’t even make an effort to make Vergil look like a complete buffoon during the fight, no matter how much technique and skill he had – but never Vergil imagined not having that.

Having Dante was a given. Fighting him was a given. Bantering, arguing, sparring, behaving like the bickering old set of twin brothers that they were. Vergil could say he wanted to defeat Dante, but he never wanted to get rid of him. What would his life be without his stupid brother?

Empty. Silent. Cold. Devoid of color.

Dante couldn’t go. And, most of all, he couldn’t go by Vergil’s hands. But if he was too much of a lose canon, if he was too far gone in his demonic frenzy, Vergil would have to put a stop to it…

Like Dante did with him as Nelo Angelo so many years before.

Vergil had to hold the cry that seemed to want to force its way out of his throat – holding back the tears that now glistened in his eyes. He was the most foolish of all… He was responsible for putting Dante on the same situation he found himself in at the moment – and just now he understood how harrowing, how painful and how much of a hell Dante had to go through.

Alone. Just like Vergil was alone in Hell – as above so below, the twins mirroring each other’s fates, on their realms and heritage of preference.

They weren’t so different after all.

As you started to hear the chaos around you once again, your head was spinning viciously and the pain that spread inside your lungs made you think you were going to explode. With an almost inaudible moan, you felt tears streaming down your eyes as you tried to open them, seemingly inhaling blood and pain every time you tried to breathe. You could feel you were covered in something wet and sometimes sticky, but it took some time for you to raise a trembling hand in front of your barely focusing eyes to realize it was blood.

Were you dead…? What had happened…? You could barely remember. You didn’t even know what hit you: suddenly everything turned black and now you were feeling like a bulldozer went over your body and somehow you managed to survive. Perhaps you didn’t, but if you were dead, you wouldn’t be feeling that much pain… At least, that was what people always said that happened after departing from the human world.

Plus, you could still hear the demons – but now, screaming in fear and trying to run away from something that was growling in such an inhuman tone, you wondered if you guys had accidentally summoned something bigger. By the noise, it had to be. The likes of Mundus and the other Kings of Hell – Vergil being the smallest of them, but still as deadly.

Perhaps it was Vergil…? To be fair, though, he never went all out without a really good reason. Maybe he thought you were dead? He appreciated you as much as a brother would appreciate his twin’s partner, but you didn’t expect him to have such a visceral reaction to your death; Unless…

You widened your eyes as your whole body seemed to be washed by a cold wave followed by a lightening that made you tingle from head to toes. Your heart sunk in your chest and the painful breaths you tried before were all but gone. Vergil would have a visceral reaction if he lost his brother. And that, you couldn’t even fathom: life without Dante didn’t exist… Or, at least, it would be something you wouldn’t want to go through.

You forced your body up, slowly turning to one side and barely using your arm to keep your weight as you tried to see what was going on. You had to find him, you had to find Dante. You would crawl to his body, you would shake him around as you could, you would give him your breath, you would give him your soul – but you would try everything to bring him back. You would hold him as tight as you could, you would cry over him, and there wouldn’t be a living or dead thing in this world that would be able to part you from him.

You widened your eyes once more when you saw Vergil keeping your body as a guardian warrior and the source of the chaos and destruction was your beloved red devil – lost in a frenzy, dripping with blood, eyes melting like lava and nothing of human in them.

You had never seen Dante like that.

“Verge…” You tried to cough the word out, but it was nothing more than a dying whisper. You couldn’t see how the blue devil furrowed his brows, thinking he might be hearing things – until you allowed a harsher breath to hurt your lungs so you could try to raise your trembling voice higher. “Vergil…!”

He turned his head enough to see you in the corner of his eyes – doing his best to still keep Dante in his sight. A wave of euphoria washed through Vergil’s body as his hands seemed to get steadier around Yamato: he was right, you were alive. As the fighter you were, the survivor you were… You were breathing and doing your best to get back on your feet again.

“Y/n…” But he couldn’t even talk: the floor rumbled again and Vergil knew what was coming. You placed your hands on the ground, widening your eyes and furrowing your brows, having never felt that before.

For a split second, you caught a glimpse of what was going on: Dante harnessing his power, ready to explode. You had never saw that. You had never saw his eyes devoid of his humanity. You had never seen your Dante as a complete demon like it was happening at that moment.

And, something that you had never been conscious to witness, Vergil threw himself over you to protect your body from his brother’s wrath. You had to cower behind his frame, gripping Vergil’s coat lapel for dear life, but still feeling the burning of a thousand degrees engulf you.

The blue devil didn’t even waver – but both of you had something in your eyes… The dread of the harrowing knowledge that that was Dante. All that destruction, that chaos, that blood… It was all Dante.

You were right, after all. His rage was the scariest to see.

“I need t-…” Your voice was raspy, having to stop mid phrase to cough some more blood that needed to come out of your lungs. “I need to talk to him.” You tried to take a deep breath, but once again it just stopped with a harsh sting on your chest. “He needs to know I’m alive.”

“Hmmm.” Vergil agreed with his head, but you knew he was still pondering what you had said. He helped you up on your feet – doing more of the work than you, easily lifting your body with his strength. “Dante isn’t himself at the moment…” Again, Vergil stood in front of you like a guardian, gripping the Yamato with both hands as soon as he saw you could stand by yourself. If you faltered, though, he was quick enough to hold you. “You must keep that in mind.”

“I know… And I am scared.” You answered in a whisper, looking over Vergil’s shoulder only to see Dante mercilessly slaughtering the last unlucky demons. “But it’s still Dante.”

Vergil didn’t know what to do, if he was being honest with himself. He could have held you back and kept you safe, as his demonic side told him to do, but something inside told him he should let you do what you had to do. Those silvery eyes watched as you bravely walked in haste towards danger; towards hell and doom, ready to embrace it… And willing to make it stop.

“Dante! Dante, love!” You kept calling, but, as Vergil feared before, his brother didn’t respond. He was too far gone, too lost in Hell to come back that easily. Vergil followed your steps slowly, lingering like a shadow behind you… Ready to do whatever he needed to do if Dante’s demon didn’t even recognize you in that blind rage. “Dante! You can stop now… Dante!”

With all the filthy bloody corpses piling up on the floor, that flaming red-hot demonic figure slowly turned its head towards you. Covered in blood, sword dripping with red, molten lava eyes raining all its hollow pain. Expressionless, as he always was on his Sin Devil Trigger, made of fire and coal, hate and rage.

Did he recognize you…? Did he understand what was going on…? Vergil’s grip on Yamato got stronger, ready to unleash a blow on his brother in order to protect you. What you were doing was a gamble – and one with not so nice odds to you. There was a reason why Vergil let Dante’s anger wear out when they were in Hell: he knew there was a good chance Dante wouldn’t even recognize him at the height of his wrath, just like it happened with Vergil on those situations. So, to say the moment at hand was dangerous was a serious understatement.

But humans would always be fascinating, wouldn’t they…? At least, that was what Vergil thought. That towering demon with a flaming chest and leathery wings turned towards you, carrying his huge sword dripping with demonic blood, doing nothing but heavy breathing – and you decided to fearlessly walk towards it.

Humans.

Vergil kept his distance, watching it all unfolding with a weary heart and a trigger hand at ready to fight his brother – to death, if he unfortunately needed to – in order to protect you. He couldn’t have the certainty you had, as your steps kept going in Dante’s direction.

Your legs were shaking, your knees were trembling, but… It was your lover. It was Dante. No matter how much he was lost into his frenzy and wrath, you had to believe his heart would remember you. His soul. It all happened because he thought he had lost you, he had to come back upon knowing you were alright.

It didn’t matter how horrid his wrath looked like, you knew he was in there somewhere.

“Dante… It’s me, I’m alright…” Your voice was still a whisper, unable to speak too loud, but also trying to soothe the anger in his heart. You hesitantly reached out to him, making a growl rumble inside his chest and your steps stop for a while – with Vergil half-unsheathing his sword, ready to fight. “Love…” You called again, breathing as deeply as you could, resuming your walking and extending your hand towards him. “My Dante…”

You were finally at arm’s reach. Vergil held his breath, eyebrows furrowed, silvery predator eyes fixated on what was supposed to be his brother. You raised your hand higher, resting it on Dante’s face.

His Sin Devil Trigger form was nothing but rough. His skin seemed like hard leather and rocky coal, burning so hot it could almost hurt your hand. You wouldn’t back down though: compared to him, you were soft and cold, too fragile and breakable; but you wouldn’t leave. You caressed his rough face, fingers feeling the sharp teeth, the spiky crevices, the unwelcoming features of a face made in Hell.

You felt, though, an unlikely moisture reaching your fingers: a droplet, running from those fiery, empty eyes – those inhuman eyes. You looked at it running through your fingers to the back of your hand, looking back into those frightening eyes that had nothing of a soul in them…

But he was there, wasn’t he? It was him, a part of him that Dante always fought so relentlessly to keep hidden, to keep on a tight leash in the deepest corner of his self. You could see Dante in those eyes – and, as soon as that realization washed through the demon’s body, his head leaned into your hand.

With a flaming spark, the red devil was gone and you had the man back: tired, desolated, falling apart. Dante still leaned his head into your hand – now with soft skin, smooth lips, closed eyes and flowy white hair – almost like an animal that had never been touched with kindness in a whole lifetime. As he opened his eyes, you could see the redness of his tears crowning those sky-blue tones you always loved so much… And there was nothing but fragile vulnerable humanity in them.

“Hi, cowboy…” You whispered with a shadow of a smile on your lips, while your very eyes poured tears – you didn’t know what kind of tears, though, if of happiness, sadness, desperation, pity or love. Maybe all of them at the same time: it was inherently human to feel more than words could describe. You caressed his face as Dante himself started to pour all of his feelings out – this time, not in a fit of rage. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“I thought I lost you.” His coarse voice came through as if Dante had been weeks without speaking and his very own vocal cords were barely working. You didn’t doubt his body would be in pain after all he had been through during… That. “I thought… You were gone. I’d never see you again, you were… Like… Like…” Dante closed his eyes again, head hanging low. He could barely breathe as the words fought to get out of his chest and stop suffocating him. His tears hitting the floor while you took his hair out of the way so you could see his face – there was nothing but pain; a pain that hadn’t been healed since he was a child. “Like everyone in my damned fuckin’ life; those things… I thought they had extinguished… Your light, like everyone… Like everyone eventually does… By my side…”

That was rare. Very rare. Dante was very honest with his feelings and usually didn’t hide anything from you, but not to that point – the point where he would honestly and openly say how much he thought he was the thing that doomed everyone else who decided to live with him or be friends with him. That loathing he had inside his heart, that he hid so carefully, it wasn’t something he would say out loud – it was something you knew because you always understood him so well.

You let go of his hair and locked your arms around his large frame, resting your head on his chest – you could hear his heart beating, his human heart. Dante hesitated for the very first time in his life, keeping his arms by your side for a split second, his teary eyes shocked with your reaction.

After all, you had just seen his absolute worst. All the things he always smothered so much inside himself, keeping them on check, always so controlled. You had seen it in all its spiteful and horrid glory – and your reaction was to embrace him instead of running away. Dante expected you to run, it would honestly be the logic and most human thing to do after seeing all of that.

But you walked towards him with your heart beating in fear, touching his face to grab him out of the pit of wrath he was buried into, holding him tightly in your arms as he broke down in all his anger, misery, trauma and self-loathing.

It lasted a split of a second indeed – for soon Dante’s strong arms were wrapped around your fragile body, keeping you close and safe from harm… As well as having his face buried on your neck, crying all that smothered pain inside of his heart out. Your bodies were too exhausted to keep standing for too long – so when your knees wavered, Dante did the same and you kneeled on the floor, never letting go of each other; Dante holding you as tight as he could, promising himself he would never let go.

Vergil could finally put Yamato to rest. When they were in Hell, he allowed his brother’s rage to wear off while observing from afar. This time, he could do the same: guarding you and quietly keeping you both safe and sound.

A sad ghost of a smile graced the Dark Slayer’s lips as he calmly observed you. Maybe his brother was right after all, and he could only wish someday he would be as strong as Dante to carry such power.

A human heart.

[ceemi]

i would like to know about the horses in your red dead redemption au 👉👈

thank you for reviving the dead horse girl in me

i'll sketch more later but ive got things to do but here's these four for now 👍

[maximura]

The High Table: A John Wick Verse. Introducing Im Changkyun.

[madsmilfelsen]

do we think the iron crusaders are sig’s cheer booster club donors

[doomednarrative]

I’m gonna be extremely honest, despite the fact that I Am tired of seeing that one speific trope being played out and we all know what I’m referring to here, I really liked this weeks Geats

(spoilers in the tags for this one)

[ald3r-wolfcak3]

Starshine rewrite, dark riders & horses

Sabine has Khaan, pure breed black fresian, with an unnaturaly high body tempature. Somes even reported to see Khaan burn down the grass as he stepped on it She got it as a birthday present from her parents. Khaan got trained as a dressage horse, but can perform somewhat well as a showjumper. Since she lack the love from her parents she try to win every competiton the Jorvik Stable is helding to try to gain their love.

Katja has Stalker, a pure black Parcheron, with extreamly low body temparature. Somes says when the air is humid, you can see snow forming around his body. Stalker a bit aggresive, most at the stable try to avoid him. He hates the company of other horses, but somewhat friendly with Khaan and Mortifa. Katja got him thanks her excellent scheme. But the poor girl almost find out she not got any money during the exchange, but Mr. Sands helped her out, but asked for a favour.

Mortifa, a black Belgian warmblood with a pure white face and soulles blue eyes. She has a poor eyesight, but has a really high agility. Somes said, when you are too close to her you start to feel sick. Laverne got her, when he was 12, her breeder wanted to eutanasy the foal, but he saved Mortifa. Since then she lives at the jorvik stables and has a good friendship with Khaan and Stalker.

So as I said before, Jessica hates horses. They just don't understand why there is a whole ass island where the citizens are obssessed with horses. She times to times goes to see the racies Sabine attend at also go to cheer for Katja or Laverne. She one time tried to ride a horse, but freaked out.

And lastly here is Mr. Sands and his steel gray English Thoroughbred. The PineHill mansion has a huge stable, with multiple horses, but when he go out to ride he mostly ride this old lady. There is an empty stall with a damaged name plate. The older stable workers know, there used to be a blue roan horse with white tiped mane. No one knows what breed she was, but know she and Mr. Sands had a really close bond. But he lost his horse like he lost his family...

[hkpika07]

DARK TYPE

DARK TYPE MY BELOVED

[trans-poppy]

the kamen rider fourze "dark yuki" arc

[shyvioletlife]

Pov: you grew up reading weird fantasy in the early 2000s

[lonksadventures]

Woe fan seasonal spirits be upon ye ✨

YEAH THATS RIGHT for one of my uni projects I decided to design some seasonal spirits plus a guide for my own hypothetical Sky season! The original concept was having a skykid guide the player helps uncover some of the ruins and truths left buried by the ancestor spirits, though I kinda had to just focus on the designs themselves due to time woooo

Each of these spirits were probably alive when the dark stone pollution/general issues in the kingdom came to ahead. The idea that Fearful Florist was trying to preserve some of the flowers destroyed by the pollution, Caring Fisherman used to fish for light creatures for dark stone processing but later came back and freed them and finally Starry Manta Rider used to raise Mantas but slowly watched as they were either taken or became spirits.. mmmm we love fun lore ✨

(The seasonal location would probably be in a desert area outside the Vault of Knowledge, similar to Isle, Wasteland and the Little Prince area! I imagine it’s accessed through a crack in the vaults walls. Maybe the player follows a little starry manta to get there?)

I did have ideas for seasonal quests like uncovering the spirits pasts or saving the guide from a krill during one of their investigations of some ruins but did not have to do draw it sadly ;-;

BUT YEAH enjoy these silly concepts I hope yall enjoy them!

[lazyjellyfish300]

12 𝑫𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑺𝒎𝒖𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 ~ 𝑫𝒂𝒚 𝑻𝒘𝒐

Synopsis: It's the classic Hallmark tale: what happens when you, a business woman from the city, arrives at the family owned O'Hara Christmas Tree farm your greedy boss wants to demolish, and finds much more than you bargained for that fateful night you get snowed in?

CW: x FEM!READER, SMUT(unprotected p in v ,oral (f receiving), creampie, breast play, touch of mirror kink) enemies to lovers ish, DUBCON?(You're both a bit drunk), alcohol, touch of angst, mention of pregnancy

Words: 4.4k

A/N: a little late, mb but I hope it's worth it!😩 I'm on vacation rn but I'm dedicated to making this happen even if I'm a lil behind lolol

Dividers: @/saradika-graphics

12 Days of Smutmas Masterlist 🎄🎁

You certainly weren't in Kansas anymore. Or so the saying went. This time you found yourself somewhere in the Catskills outside of Nueva York. Your high heels crunched on the gravel as you stepped out of your Uber, taking in the grand Christmas tree farm in front of you. 

"O'Hara Ranch" was welded in iron lettering on a black sign above the entrance. You whistled as you took in the expansive acres of balsam fir trees, dusted in a thin layer of snow straight out of a painting. 

It was no wonder your boss was so dead set on this place. You became keenly aware of the biting chill of the countryside as you huddled your arms closer around you, your pink blazer doing little to keep you warm as you started to quake in your Jimmy Choos with your laptop case and singular carry-on in tow.

---- 

Miguel grunted, scratching his lower back as his large, sturdy boots squeaked a little on his kitchen floor, eyes almost as dark as the warm beverage in his mug, looking out in silent disapproval at the black Escalade that pulled up, dropping off what he was certain was another employee from that pesky developer.

Some poor soul who had to be the shot messenger for a CEO who never strayed out of the wealthy privileged fairytale land they lived in, thinking that multiple commas would be enough to get him to sign his life away. 

When would they ever learn? He thought. He puts down his mug on the counter then strides over to the door, placing one of his hats on his head before he goes outside to greet this new imposter. 

---

You shuddered as you reached inside your pocket, taking out the flimsy scrap of paper that contained the phone number for the ranch and dialing it again, hoping to reach this Miguel, or whoever it was you were supposed to meet. 

"C'mon..." 

You shouldn't be surprised if he didn't pick up again. It was no secret that you were the bad guy in this situation straight out of a Hallmark film. 

Corporate business lady visiting a Christmas Tree farm that's been in the same family for decades, beloved by all the locals, who forced them to sign over their American dream to a greedy land developer and demolish it to the ground for a lavish mountain resort, and 2 weeks before Christmas no less. 

Just as the call goes to voicemail, a four wheeler's engine interrupts your train of thought. Just like out of a movie, you take notice of the very tall, dark haired, very handsome rider who sat astride it.

His long sleeved grey shirt did nothing but accentuate his rippling arm muscles, layered underneath a Carhartt vest, complete with a baseball cap and salt and pepper five o clock shadow on his sharp, steely jaw. His lips were plump and relaxed into a subtle frown, complete with thick brows and dark wavy hair that complimented the pair of rich brown eyes he possessed that compared to the slice of Earth he owned. 

"Miss...?" He asks your name with an equally deep beautiful voice to match in slightly bored formality. You could tell it was painful for him to be polite to you like this, if you were the corporate imposter like he thought you were.  

"Yes, hi! You're...M-Miguel, right?" 

His expression remains unmoved. "That would be me." 

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Gorgeous property by the way! Really, it's much much better in person than the pictures-" 

"Right." He replies stiffly. "There's really no need to be so gracious.  I figure you're here for one thing and one thing only." 

"Uh-" you reply, a little thrown off by what he means. 

"And the answer is no. I understand you've got a job to do, but I've told your boss over and over again: no. Five years ago, it was a no. Last month, also no. Come back in a week, my answer will still be no. Thank you." 

He revs the engine, getting ready to speed away. 

"Wait! I really do need you to sign this! From the mayor?" You waved a pink colored document which caught his attention for once. 

Miguel turned off the engine, hopping off the four wheeler and strode towards you. He shoots you a superstitious glance before his eyes flicker to the paper, slowly becoming more enraged as he scanned along the fine print:

 Notice of Eminent Domain. 

That bastard. There was a reason Miguel didn't vote for this prick. The new mayor was part of this recent wave of money hungry idealists in power who wanted to turn the humble town he grew up in into another rich touristy playground. 

Usually, these folks couldn't wait to sign the dotted line, get their check, and be on their merry way, but this Miguel was taking his time reading every last stipulation in the document. You notice the snow is coming down harder and harder, your teeth chattering wildly as you did your very best to stay calm as the relentless cold tested your endurance. Finally, Miguel hands you back the paper with a sigh, 

"Still not signin'. Sorry for wasting your time." 

"Miguel." You felt your patience snapped in half by now. Between traveling all morning, your boss's incessant emails, and the cold ass weather, you had just about had it up to here. 

"I'm sorry. But any complaints you have will just have to be taken up with the big man later. I came with a job to do and I have every intention of doing it." 

"That so?" Miguel straightens up, flexing his height over you. 

You were emboldened by this point through all the bullshit you had endured. "It is very much so. I'm not leaving this damn farm without a signature, and that's final." 

"Hm." Miguel nodded his chin, as though he was calling your bluff before he swiftly turned around, walking back towards the awaiting four wheeler. 

"Oh no you don't!" You huffed as your icecubes for feet magically thawed off of pure adrenaline and spite as you began to sprint. 

"What the-" Miguel looks at you quizzically then his brow furrows when he sees you darting towards his four wheeler. "The hell you think you're doing??" 

You ignore him and climb on, Miguel snickering a little bit at the prim and proper lady from the city now straddling his seat, slightly disheveled with a wild look in your eye from dealing with corporate messes all day. 

"Get down." Miguel says sternly, coming up to stand next to you. 

"No." You answer simply, smoothing your blazer. 

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be." Miguel's tone becomes more warning now. "Get off my property, woman." 

"Sign my document, then." You fold your arms. 

"You're a brat, y'know that?" Miguel folds his arms too, incredulous at your undying persistence, more like annoyance. "So childish." 

"Name calling? And you say I'm the childish one." You turn your nose up at him.

"I'm not the crazy lady jumping on a stranger's four wheeler that she doesn't even know how to drive." Miguel grumbles. 

"You'd be surprised." You glare. 

Both of you just sit there in silence, the snowfall has  escalated to just short of a blizzard by now. You're trying but failing to conceal just how damn cold you are as you shiver and shudder. Miguel's mind brews with some ideas before he speaks. 

"Alright." Miguel sighs "I'll sign your damn document. But I need to show you the place first. Just so you can get an idea of just how sick and twisted you people truly are: tearing down a place like this that's been in the family for generations." 

"What?" You blink, not expecting this change of events. "But I mean- but..." You glance at your wrist watch. "It's almost 4 pm. I was supposed to be on the road a half hour ago." 

"Not in this storm you're not." Miguel tsks his teeth. "They always close the canyon when it snows. You won't be able to go anywhere until the morning. But hey, if you wanna call an Uber and wait four hours for him just to be turned around at the bridge, then be my guest." 

"You-" You shuddered and groaned, exasperated at the fact that Miguel appeared to have the upper hand this time. You were stuck playing by his rules. 

"Fine." You resign, throwing your hands up. 

Miguel smirks at this surrender in you, getting on the four wheeler behind you. He's aware the space between your bodies is now very thin, his chest just barely grazing your back as he leans forward, placing his hands on both handlebars. 

You try not to make it obvious that you can't breathe and realize you might be in way over your head being stuck overnight with a man four times handsome as he was stubborn as Miguel drives you rapidly towards his ranch. 

---- 

"Home sweet home." Miguel hums halfheartedly as you enter the elaborate living area of Miguel's mountain home. Several brown and white cowhide rugs were spread over the polished wooden floors, a large pair of antlers hung over a luxury stone hearth, with an inviting leather couch in front of it. 

A short time later, you're absentmindedly staring at some photographs on the wall when Miguel's voice startles you. 

"Had enough snooping?" 

"I wasn't snooping!." You whirl around, pretending to avert your gaze. "I was admiring the antlers." 

Miguel scoffs. "You're a terrible liar, you know." 

"Who is that?" You ask, voice a little more gentle. You kind of wish you never asked when Miguel's eyes soften with the slightest tinge of melancholy. 

"My daughter." He answers then clears his throat. "She passed some years ago." 

"Oh..." You look at him then back at the photograph of the cheery bright eyed girl in it. "I'm so sorry." 

"Thanks." Miguel answers shortly, crossing over to the bar on the far side of the room. 

"I can see why you don't want to leave." You admit, crossing your arms and running your palms up your arms as the glow from the fireplace worked quickly to rid you of any lingering chill from outside. "For what it's worth..." 

Miguel scoffed again. "You don't need to play the sympathy card to win points with me." 

"I- No Miguel! Of course not!" You look at him in horror. "Really, you think I take pride in doing these things to folks like you? You think I'm some souless corporate ghoul that drinks blood of the innocent?" 

"Yes." Miguel stays deadpanned, with the faintest glimmer of amusement. 

"Oh shut up." You blow air through your lips and stride over to where he's standing by his bar. "What do you have to drink around here anyways?" 

Miguel smiles, the bourbon in his glass had made him feel a little more comfortable by now. He glanced outside, eyes slightly widened in surprise at the complete blizzard that was unfolding outside the frosty window. 

"You might wanna go for something a bit stronger than that." Miguel nods in the direction of the window. 

Your fingers move away from the canned margaritas in the mini fridge. You realize bourbon is also the answer tonight when you lay eyes on the absolute winter wonderland outside. 

You had never seen so much snow in your life, as a seemingly infinite stream of snowflakes littered the staggering blankets of pure white that would be nearly waist deep should you venture back out. 

Even though the night was completely black, the shimmery powder stood out, illuminating the December night among the silent and formidable evergreens. 

"Damn..." You whispered. 

"Damn is right." Miguel polishes off his bourbon. "Another round for me too, when you get a chance." He slides his glass towards you across the polished wood. 

"Please?" You quirk a brow at him. 

Miguel chuckles, the sound deep and a little breathy. The feeling it left you...quite unexpected. "Yes, please."

You hum and fill his glass a quarter of the way after you pour your own into one of the small shot glasses you spied below the countertop, throwing the liquid fire back in one ragged gulp. 

Miguel laughs at the face you make and little cough you let out as your eyes water. "Miss Corporate can't handle a little country bourbon?" 

"Miss Corporate can handle herself just fine." You give him a small harrumph. "Miss Corporate wishes to remind Mr. Country Man that she is still here strictly on business and she has no problem decking him in the face should he continue to mouth off." 

"Hmmm business, eh?" 

"Mhmm." 

"Oh, I think we're way past that." Miguel smirks as he leans forward a little closer towards you. "You're having a drink with your evictee. Can't imagine that's not frowned upon." 

"I've had drinks with clients before." You huff, hastily grabbing the bottle and pouring another shot as if to prove a point. This one went down with less resistance, albeit still just as fiery as the one before. 

"Cálmate."(Calm down) Miguel goes to grab the bottle from you just as you're about to pour a third when the sudden move causes the bourbon to splash a little, ending up on your thousand dollar blazer. 

"You... idiot." You roll your eyes as Miguel snorts. 

"Hey, hey, I'm sorry." Miguel steps towards you, trying to help. 

"Nope, you've done quite enough." You huff, trying to disguise the warmth the alcohol was quickly dispelling all over your body. 

"I insist." 

"Miguel, fuck off!" 

"Come here, dammit..." 

And you're not sure exactly what happened, but in that moment his body was pressed up against yours and your faces were mere inches from one another.

This was dangerous now. You knew it, and he knew it, but for Miguel, he was at risk of losing everything anyway. Who could blame him if he wasn't going to make the most of this...convenient situation that presented itself to him. It didn't help that you were quite easy on the eyes as well. 

He pauses as if holding his breath, those deep, deep eyes completely swallowing you up where you stood, the faint sting of the bourbon you can detect on his lips that he wet ever so slightly. 

"M-Miguel, I really shouldn't, I-" 

And you can't remember exactly what drove your lips to meet in that heady first kiss, or how his touch moved from your face, to your neck, whether you were the one who guided him, or his hands wandered on their own accord to the sensitive swells of your breasts, but here you were, up against this tall, rugged farmer you thought you hated only 20 minutes ago, breathing and panting into his mouth and kissing him like your life depended on it, completely contradicting everything you ever said. 

He began to rock his hips against you, hands now on either side of your head, caging you against the wall. You could tell he loved being bigger than you, finally something he had to humble all the sass you loved to throw at him earlier. A not-so-secret attraction you had for him all this time you feebly tried to disguise with disdain. 

Miguel felt it too, and God, right now he couldn't get enough of all the little whines and sounds you were making. How desperate you got just from a little deep conversation and bourbon. This night was swiftly traveling in a more heated direction, and if he wasn't mistaken by the subtle rolls of your body against his aching bulge in his jeans and the hunger laced in your fingers as they tangled in his hair, you had no intention of stopping. 

"Not so feisty now, are you?" He groaned as he started leaving heated kisses along both delicate junctures of your neck. "Sure you're not gonna change your mind  and go back to stealing my farm, hermosa?" He teased. 

"Oh, fuck off..." You grumbled and then bit your lip, back arching involuntarily when you felt him just barely tug your delicate nipple with his teeth. "Aaah Aahhh, Miguel..." You threw your head back.

Miguel smirks and takes that as permission to lay you back completely on his bar, gently tugging the waistband of your business slacks while he switched between both tits and lapped them with the pointy tip of his tongue, until both buds of your nipples were bumpy and hard from all the attention. "You can still stop at any time..." 

"N-No more asking..." You managed to sputter out as you felt his fingers begin to wiggle against your clothed heat that was steadily soaking from the inside. "Just- fffuck, Miguel, so good...just fuck me..." 

"Mmmm..." Miguel groaned in satisfaction and yanked off your pants, followed by your panties without another word. 

Pure ecstacy rolled off the tip of his tongue and dripped between your warm folds as he began to slurp your pussy up like hot cocoa. Miguel strategically left your high heels on, smirking as he glanced over at the mirror on the wall, seeing the pretty businesswoman half naked and back arched so beautifully, moaning as he ate you out on his bar. 

Despite never knowing your body before, his tongue just seemed to find and hit all the right spots, even the ones you were too impatient to look for when you laid in bed all alone. He sucked, and he spit, rolling your clit so perfectly between his lips and leaving no inch of your pretty pussy unbathed by his tongue. 

He alternated between tongue fucking you where his thick nose squished against your clit, hands slinking up the soft flesh of your hips, encouraging you to grind on his face. When he paused and brought his face up to look at you, you swore he was never more handsome than when his face was shiny with your slick, dripping with the evidence that he could make you wetter than any man you'd ever been with.

And other times, he loved to just stare into your eyes with that same, beautifully mesmerizing gaze that was almost too intense to where you'd have to turn away, only for him to whisper, "ah, ah, mirame..." (Look at me) , while his thumb slowly rubbed over your swollen clit, and his middle and ring finger noisily and wetly massaged your squishy walls. 

"Miguel, baby, so good..." You moaned and you sighed, face twisting into a smile as you bit your lip. It felt so shameless to indulge right now. Your career hit the road the second you decided to kiss him but right now you weren't complaining. Logic took a permanent vacation leaving you with nothing but raw, carnal need. All that mattered right now was spreading your legs for this man, being his whore, riding his face and taking his cock every which way he'd have you tonight. 

Your eyes watered as you felt that familiar feeling swelling in your belly, thighs shaking more unsteadily than before. Your back slightly arched from where you laid on his bar but the pleasure Miguel kept injecting into you with his sinfully delicious tongue kept you right there.

"M-Miguel...I'm gonna cum." 

Miguel went even harder, nuzzling his nose even further into your dripping heat, savoring the dribbling honey running between your thighs and dripping into his mouth. He added his fingers again, fingers normally rough and taut and calloused from all that work he did on the farm became soft, intentional, sensual, and deliberate as he coaxed your pussy closer and closer to releasing all over for him.

Your thighs began to quiver around his head, clamping down, however Miguel would gladly suffocate every time for the cause.

"R-right there, Miguel..." 

"Right here, baby?" He groans, swirling his finger in circles over that tried and true spot on your clit, another gush of your juices wetting his fingers before the flood, and Miguel leans over to clean it up with his tongue. 

Every touch now feels amplified in electricity, bordering on overstimulation as his tongue glosses over your soaked folds, something changing in your brain chemistry as he licked up every bit of your arousal as though it were frosting from a bowl. 

"Still with me?" Miguel whispered, leaning in and making out with you as he scooped you into his arms, leading you over to the couch, the entire room painted in an alluring orange glow from the fire next to the warm yellow lights from the tall Christmas tree. 

You groaned as you tasted yourself on his soft, messy lips, the ember of desire burning hotter than ever in both of you. "Y-yeah..." 

Miguel smiles as he sets you down next to him, reaching over and pulling a fleece blanket over your shoulders. His thumb gently brushed the corner of your mouth as he took you in. The most sobering moment between you all evening. One where the alcohol had some time to sink in and both of you were riding out the end of your high together. A new kind of closeness beginning to set itself alight between you as you wordlessly began stripping off the rest of your clothes and you reached for his. 

"Can I?" You asked and a low groan rumbled from his chest. 

"Please." 

You weren't sure, but somehow despite his sass, his generosity and sole focus on making you cum with no assumption on his part that you would be obligated to do the same for him made you even more determined as you peeled back layer after layer, until he sat there in all of his naked glory in front of you. 

He was absolutely beautiful. The salt and pepper pattern from his stubble on his jaw was repeated in his happy trail, leading to a nice, thick, bush around the base of his thick, veiny, cock (More fun for you when you'd be riding him into next week later on).

The tip was just barely a hint of red as it bloomed with precum.  His legs and arms were hairy as well, stomach soft with just the right amount of pudge but everywhere else was solid pure muscle that could only be found on a man who worked hard in the elements, dark hair tousled a bit that fell in his eyes from your passionate fingers earlier. 

The throbbing ache pounded, the glistening sheen between your thighs was all the lube you needed as he pulled you into his lap. Miguel's eyes remained completely locked on you, softening a bit as he felt himself start to push inside you. 

He had suspected sometime around while you were moaning his name and he was lapping up your arousal like an oasis that this whole encounter was deeper than a hookup, and now, he realizes he's sunk: hook line and sinker as your pussy just grips and squeezes him. He sighs as his hands find residence on your hips, taking pleasure in kneading the soft fat. 

"Take your time...." He whispered as he noticed you struggling a bit under his sheer size, his girth slowly spreading you more open. Somehow though, the stretch felt more rewarding, more sinful as you became fuller and fuller of him as you just allowed yourself to relax. 

Miguel's cock bottomed out inside of you, an experimental twitch of his cock reminded you on all fronts that you were stuffed to the brim. He adored this, he loved being so close to you like this, loved the satisfaction that the woman who supposedly hated his guts at first was now completely putty in his hands as you wrapped effortlessly around him. 

"So damn warm..." Miguel purred as he began bouncing you in a slow rhythm. "Ah, ah, mas despacio, por favor(more slow please)..." He teased, grip tightening as he slowed your hips. "I wanna enjoy you like this for a while." He grunted and groaned, loving the way you just responded with more dripping slick around his base as he leaned in to suck on your tits while keeping himself buried inside. "If I'd known you felt this good I would've dragged you out of that fucking snow a lot earlier." He murmured before his lips puckered over your nipple. 

"Please, Mig..." You rolled your eyes but returned a chuckle with a sigh, gently rolling your hips while his cock remained warm and snug inside you. "I'll admit when you pulled up on that four wheeler, it was kind of hard not think about you bending me over the seat.." 

"Yeahh?" Miguel groaned as he churned his hips, drawing his cock in and out of your sea of wetness. "Shouldn't have told me that, now I might need to make that happen..."

As he spoke, his pace increased faster and faster. 

"Aaahh, Miguel...Miguel!" Your threshold was being tested on how much you could take, but nearly fell apart altogether when he added his thumb back to your clit while continuing to fuck up into you ruthlessly. 

"Come on baby, with me...let go."  

And your highs came in waves, yours first followed by his like a bursting dam. His cum overwhelmed your tight hole, causing it to dribble down the sides in filthy display but you loved it, shoving yourself back down on his cock with naughty enthusiasm. Miguel smirked at you, eyes still slightly dazed from euphoria. 

"Good to see you're not wasting any, baby." 

And before you knew it he picked you up, yelping slightly then giggling when you took the initiative of squeezing your thighs tighter around his waist, cock still softening slowly inside your silky pussy, but beginning to pulse back to life as you and Miguel began making out passionately while he took careful steps with you cradled in his arms to his bedroom. 

Perhaps by now you didn't have a job anymore, the future of Miguel's farm was still uncertain, surely you'd be the talk of the entire town come a few months later when your tummy would be swelling with the evidence of every steamy thing that took place tonight inside this snowed in ranch. But, for now, you had much harder, longer, thicker things on your mind as round two became three, then four, with a surprise fifth in the middle of the night and a sixth in the morning. 

When all is said and done, you could always just blame it on the snow. 

[princesssmars]

sweet✰honey✰buckin

a rodeo!abby x reader. | p.ii

its a hot spring in the south and rodeo season is here. your hunt for a new fling leads you to an up-and-coming hotshot bull rider with an aversion to groupies. maybe you can change her mind.

wc : 2.509

contains : fxf relationship. barely attempted country slang. fluff. smut. oral and penetrative sex (r!receiving). nicknames (baby, darlin', a single bunny).

a/n : yeah guess who just listened to cowboy carter. idk why i posted about this before writing a single word but i didn't procrastinate this time yall clap it up and enjoy.

if you think about it, this was really all dolly partons' fault.

you could still picture the first time you saw her, the grainy recording on your grandmother's television, the gentle melodies from the blonde bombshell wrapping around you like a warm hug. you'd only been exposed to the south for a few weeks, and you already knew who you wanted your role model to be.

and the buckle bunny stuff also wasn't your fault! you were gorgeous, as people so loved to remind you at every twist and turn. and maybe you used your looks to your advantage sometimes. the first time was when you batted your eyelashes to make a boy do your project a day before it was due in junior year. he was... good-looking, you supposed. smart enough to be on the chess team, so he would do.

so you went to a little party with your friends that night. a spacious house, nice music, and good enough booze. everything was normal until you saw her. she was lean and mysterious, and under the lid of her black ridge top hat you could see her eyes tracking your body as you danced

so yes, her eating you in the back seat of her truck until you cried, holding down your hips when you tried to move changed your brain chemistry just a bit.

now a few years later, you're a little taller, a little smarter, and have collected a handful of studs for your belt. sure you've collected a...not so savory reputation in some of the local bars, but it was nothing a smile and a little flirting couldn't help. and its only going to get better; as the air warms and the trees bloom pussy spirit starts buzzing, and you know rodeo season is upon you again.

it was a hot night at the cow belle and the people even hotter as you scoped the scene from the rim of your glass. you and your friends were perched at the bar, daisy dukes heightened and crop tops tied under your busts.

"i heard red devil rosie'd be here tonight," savannah whispers to your group from beside you, her tall dark legs relaxed with her arm resting on the wood behind you. she always had a bit of a thing for redheads, and she'd had her eyes on rosie ever since it got around that she'd broken up with her fiancee.

"jesus, sav, the poor girl just got heartbroken, now you already wanna jump her bones?" charlize laughs, taking a hard swig of the beer in her hand. standing at a solid five feet and four inches tall the little kentuckian was a handful, always the first in line to ride a mechanical bull or jump in the front of a line dance.

"whats that saying men always use? as soon as you lose one hop on a 'nother?"

"you are deplorable."

as the girls banter back and forth your eyes focus on the rising commotion at the front of the bar. with a slight rise on your toes, making sure not to scuff your boots, and you can't help the growing smile on your face when you spot that blonde hair pushed down by her signature brown stetson.

abigail anderson, the rodeo's angel. she'd only been in the circuit for under two years and sponsors were lining up and begging for her to go pro. it was always easy to spot her, frequently trailed by her already professional friends manny alvarez and owen moore, along with a handful of groupies begging her to look their way.

luckily for you, manny had flirted with you a few weeks back and remained friendly after you turned him down, and he was heading straight towards you while his friends headed to a booth.

"oh god, hide your wives and girlfriends, the buckle brood is here!" he laughs, thanking the bartender for his beer and taking a swig.

"whatever manny, you're just upset our darling here didn't give you a chance." savannah winks.

"i think god was doing me a favor. y'know dixie's been trying to call you for about a week? the poor girls even thought about sending a bouquet. dixie. a bouquet."

"i made it clear before we slept together it would be a one-time thing. 's not my fault she wants more." you sigh.

that just makes the man laugh harder. he chats it up with charlize about how the rankings are looking when he notices how your gaze keeps wandering off, following your eye straight to-

"no."

"hm? i didnt say anything!"

"you said it with your eyes. and im gonna tell you with my mouth that you don't stand a chance. abby hates groupies." he shakes his head.

"abby, huh? i like it." manny grows exasperated as his words go in one ear and out the other. "'n and im technically not a groupie. never seen the woman in my life before now."

"well, look don't touch. or maybe don't look at all, before you put a spell on her or somethin."

you pout, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck and bring him into a hug. you see abby look your way in the corner of your eye and make sure to stretch your torso just a tiny bit until you're able to feel the bottom of your shirt ride up just that much more. when you see her eyes trail down your waist you hide a smile into the side of your arm.

you let the man go with a sweet goodbye, watching as he grabs two more beers and heads over to the booth and twisting your head before you can catch the blondes gaze.

its only a few minutes later when manny comes back with wide eyes and invites you over to sit with them.

sitting across from her, you can see why people are so attracted to her. she’s big, her muscles bulging out from the sleeves in her plaid shirt. despite her size she doesn’t try to take up more space then needed; confident but not cocky.

she clearly notices your glances, and maybe even the smile on your face when one of her past flings with a girl is brought up in conversation.

“so, you’ve had girlfriends before?” you ask, stirring your cocktail with the little colorful umbrella that came with it.

“no no, don’t answer that, you’ll regret it.” owen butts in, meeting your glare. you’d never talked before, but you were pretty sure you had slept with his fiancée a few years ago. last you’d heard they’d had a baby, maybe you’d offer to babysit sometime.

“why not? are you a groupie?” abby asks.

“can’t be a groupie if i barely know who you are. so why don’t we get to know each other better. preferably in private.”

“whatever you say, darlin.”

you hear the sudden sounds of a few hoots and claps and a familiar song that they always play to get people dancing.

“why don’t you show me some of your moves, big girl?”

she rolls her eyes, letting out a quiet sigh before following you onto the dance floor.

as much as she’s trying to fight it, you can tell abby is enjoying herself, learning quickly as you show her the moves to the dance. you’re a bit surprised she doesn’t know it already until she tells you she’s originally from utah.

“what, they don’t have country bars out in salt lake.”

“no, not like this. at least i never went to any of them.”

“wellll if you ever need a tour guide i’m available. whenever you want me.”

“god, manny told me about you.”

“really? what’s he say? i can probably guess.”

“so you know everybody thinks you’re a playgirl who sleeps with cowgirls for damn near a living and you don’t care?”

you shrug. “‘m just young and having fun. maybe everyone else, including you, is too uptight.”

“oh really? and what, you're supposed to help me loosen up?” she raises a single eyebrow. you don't answer, deciding to just look at her face for a while.

you like how pretty she is. the soft blue of her big eyes, the freckles dotted across her face that trail down her neck and disappear into her shirt. you feel pride in your chest when you see her cheeks redden.

when the song ends you pull away from her, ready to go over and tell your friends goodbye when a large hand grips your wrist, tugging your body back to its previous position. before you can question her you feel the weight of her hat sitting on your head.

"well? you gonna answer my question?"

you can still remember the looks on your friends face's when abby told them she was heading home, still gripping your hand. manny looked like he had just seen pigs fly.

it was hard to ignore the way she didn't let go of you until she was driving or the looks she was giving you when she was looking at the road, or how desperate she was when you finally got her here, dragging you to her room and attaching her strap like she'd die if she didn't get you in bed.

"i don't see what the big fuss is about, this really isn't that hard." you tease her, admiring the way she whines when you refuse to let her wrists go from your hands, using all your strength to keep her from flipping you over

but maybe you should learn when to shut your mouth because she roughly starts bucking her hips, smiling at the euphoric look on your face before you hide your face in her neck, trying and failing to muffle your moans.

"what? i thought you said this was easy?" she laughs when she hears your muffled groan, failing to ignore when you roughly bite her. you can tell she's getting frustrated at being restrained, her hands clenching into fists and repeatedly trying to get them from under your hands. "fuckin - cmon, baby, lemme help you."

god, she was so cute. you'd never say it out loud but you liked all the little nicknames she gave you, the gentle kisses she would place on your skin when she was warming you up for her. if you didn't have a one-time policy you would have chosen to keep her around. just for a little while.

but you could also see the inner turmoil in her eyes, the battle between dominance and submission. when you first met her you thought she'd be a stone top, so you decide to take advantage and reach one of your hands up to her hair and pull, forcing a loud moan from her as her mouth gaped open.

"not so uptight now, are you?" you laugh, awwing at her when she lets out a small whine.

you didnt realize until it was too late that it was a mistake to underestimate her because she was attaching her hands to your hips, planting her feet on the bed, and thrusting up into you like a wild bull, sucking a mark into your chest like she can't see you struggling to breathe.

"yeah, that's it. not so easy now, is it darlin'?"

and oh how you hate how you can't answer her, only able to muster up a weak glare as the pleasure grows, feeling the burning heat gross in your stomach. you're trying to hold off, not ready for this to end just yet, and hating the satisfied look on her face when your shaky arms wrap around her neck.

"you gettin' close, baby?" she maneuvers your legs to spread wider, hitting that spot inside you at just the right angle. god, everything feels so hot and overwhelming and so damn good-

"that's it, show me how pretty you look cummin around me." once she reaches a hand down and roughly rubs your clit it's over, moaning and gasping her name as your orgasm hits you like a freight train. she never stops her movements, in fact, you think she goes harder once she feels your nails dig into her arms.

your head flops onto her shoulder, basking in your post-orgasm bliss as her large hands rub up and down your back. mind hazy, you feel yourself drifting off and giving yourself a mental pat on the back when you're shocked upwards by a fierce thrust from below you, wide eyes darting to abby's.

"what, ya thought we were finished? if you wanna claim me you gotta earn it, bunny."

"oh no, abby i cant-" you try to decline, not sure you can take another before she presses you back into her sheets, manhandling your legs over her shoulders and your arms under your back. she can tell you're about to fight it because she's pushing her strap into you again.

it's embarrassing how close you are already after a few minutes, unable to move as she splits you open in a damn mating press. trying to hide your face in the sheets is futile so you have no choice but to keep eye contact with her, which only brings you closer to the edge because she's looking at you like she wants to fuck you until she physically can't anymore.

she's quieter now but you can hear her mumbling under her breath about how 'you're too damn fine, jesus you're gonna be the death of me,' and the next thing you know you're both cumming, feeling the wet mess grow between your legs.

she sinks into you, boneless on top of you as she gently rubs at your sides as you do the same for her head. after a few minutes she gets up, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips at your soft whine at the strap leaving you before heading off to the bathroom to get a washcloth.

it's gentle as you both clean the other, softly trailing the rag down her arms as she observes you. its almost...domestic. which you haven't done in quite a while. it feels nice.

when she gets up to throw it in the hamper you reach for your clothes on the floor before she questions you.

"excuse me, what do you think you're doin?"

"uhh...leaving?"

"nope, bad manners if i let you go home now," she tosses you a shirt from one of her drawers, finding her own pajamas before flopping on her bed. "i don't know what kinda girls in the circuit you've been seein', but I'm not like that."

you're on the fence, rubbing the fabric of her large shirt before putting it on and settling in next to her. it couldn't hurt just to sleep with her, right? "fine. but you should know i don't normally do...this."

"me neither. but there's a first time for everything, right?" she smiles, rubbing your hip from over the shirt before trailing it under. "besides, maybe we can go again in the morning. still need to prove to you I'm not uptight."

thank god for dolly parton.

sorry if this is shorter than expected i feel like death. can we all do rodeo!abby this summer. pretty please.

taglist : @euphternal @jupiter-502 @vqxen @youcallmeconnor @andersonlore i love you guys im giving you kisses rn

[xo-hoon]

25 Days Later — p.sh

minors do not interact!

pairing: ethical serial dater!sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: fluff, angst, smut, fake to real relationship trope

synopsis: For Park Sunghoon, relationships should remain uncomplicated. With life already filled with complexities, he believes that dating should only last for twenty-five days—just enough time to enjoy each other's company before parting ways. And there’s Yoon Y/n, who was driven by her curiosity rather than romance, finds herself intrigued by Sunghoon's unconventional plan, prompting her to join him for these twenty-five days. Yet, beneath their playful interactions, an unpredictable tension hints that things may not be as simple as they appear.

word count: 39k (i’m sorry?)

warnings: protected sex (YES! PRACTICE SAFE SEX), Sohyun from triple S as Hoon’s twin sister (love that), reader has a bragger moment, mentions of corpses and dead people, mentions of accidents. I stopped putting indications midway cause i have already reached the maximum of ten photos per post thing (still don’t know how this works). Grammatical and typographical errors ahead!

Day 26

Sunghoon just stared blankly at the screen of the laptop in front of him. His canvas was empty, and it seemed like he didn’t know where to start with everything he had to do.

He knew he had to get to work. There was a deadline he needed to chase—one website, a set of marketing materials, and cover studies for a book set to release three months from now. But damn, his brain just

wouldn’t cooperate. There was only one thing on his mind since last night:

Yoon Y/n.

Sunghoon was confused. It shouldn’t be like this. He’d spent years perfecting his dating lifestyle, and he’d never messed up. Nothing like this had ever happened to him after nearly a month of getting close to a woman.

His heart pounded harder as his mind filled with thoughts of Y/n.

He roughly ran his hands over his face, even tugging at his hair in frustration. "Fuck! Is karma getting back at me?”

He looked up, staring blankly at the ceiling as he recalled Y/n’s beautiful face—the sweet smile, the lively laugh, the softness of her hair, the smoothness of her skin, and that night…

Then he remembered her tears, the sadness in her eyes, the words she’d said that cut deep into his heart…

He cursed himself repeatedly as he realized just how big of an asshole he’d been. He needed to do something to redeem himself and save the only romantic relationship he could describe as real. He saved his work, then shut down his computer. He quickly showered and got dressed.

He needed to talk to Y/n.

In just minutes, he was already on the road. If he could, he’d have flown his car just to reach her house sooner. He could already see her family’s house when a motorcycle suddenly cut in from his side.

He swerved to avoid the rider, but even though he managed to dodge the motorcyclist, his car collided with a streetlight instead.

The screeching sound of tires and the crash of metal filled his ears. Then, darkness consumed Sunghoon…

Day 0

“Are you really listening to erotica?” His twin sister Sohyun teased, putting the earbud back in his own ear to hear what audiobook Sunghoon was enjoying.

Sunghoon laughed at his sister’s mocking expression. “Is that what you’re listening to? No wonder you didn’t hear me knocking on the door for the past ten minutes” she exclaimed incredulously. “Wow! I never knew you had this side to you, Hoon.”

“You're over exaggerating,” the male chuckled. He turned his attention from the cover of a young adult fiction novel and glanced at his brother. “First of all, you’re overreacting again. Second, you have a key, so you didn’t need to knock. Third, I’m doing this to drown out the music from the neighbors.” There was a wedding resort next to his apartment, and he often heard the wedding march two to three times a day. During June or December, it could reach five to seven times, and he was already fed up with it. “And fourth, I’m working, so of course, I need to concentrate.”

“Yeah, right. Just admit it—you’re only focusing on the love scenes in that audiobook,” Sohyun smirked.

“Fifth,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard his sister’s interjection, “This isn’t erotica. There was just a love scene, and you happened to catch me at that part. It's not even that explicit; the sex is just implied.” He didn’t want to sound defensive, but that’s exactly how it seemed based on Sohyun's smirk.

The woman settled on the sofa in his small apartment, which he was still paying for with his income as a freelance web developer and digital artist.

“I have a date later. I found a physical copy of this book in her bag, so I searched for the audiobook. Of course, I need some ammo in case our conversation turns in that direction.”

“Oh.” His sister shrugged. “Well, you're practically an authority on what women want. I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”

That was sarcasm. Even though his sister's way if delivering the statement didn't make it obvious, Sunghoon was sure of it. He laughed. “Is it really an exaggeration to call me an authority? I’m not an expert. I don’t know everything that women want, dear sister—just some things. Honestly, I think your kind is too complicated to fully grasp. I just happen to know a few bits.”

His twin snorted. “It doesn’t suit you; stop pretending to be humble. I know the story about how you’ve supposedly spent years studying the perfect dating formula.”

She took a sip from her paper cup and shifted the conversation. “Anyway, speaking of dating, who are you seeing now? And how many days has it been?”

He smiled. “Are you interested now?”

She rolled her eyes, but his grin widened. “Her name is Daehi. Yoon Daehi. I met her at Jay's birthday party,” Sunghoon explained, referring to a friend. “She’s a high school teacher—smart, a bit immature—which is understandable since she’s still young, kind of boring, and we’ve only gone out once. Tonight is our second date.”

“You call her boring, yet you’re still pursuing her?”

“It’s bearable. Plus, you know I prefer that they break up with me before twenty-five days, right? I’m a gentleman like that.”

Sohyun snorted again. “I’m quite surprised that you’ve managed to convince a lot of people with that 25-day theory of yours. I heard a TV show even contacted you, saying that they wanted to feature you.”

“I declined,” he replied with a proud smile. “I’d like to keep my life private, thank you very much. I told them that if they really wanted to feature me, I could consider discussing my theory with them, but they shouldn’t include me in the feature. They agreed.”

No, Sunghoon wasn’t a celebrity. It just so happened that he and many of his acquaintances had been in multiple relationships, allowing him, at twenty-four, to calculate the ideal duration of a romantic relationship—twenty-five days. It could be shorter, but it shouldn’t exceed twenty-five days, because after that, the thrill is gone. The romance fades, and there’s a boredom factor that creeps in between a couple.

And it seemed that many of his friends who had tried this approach agreed with him.

He had also been offered interviews with magazines several times, but he turned them down. He did want to inform people to help them, though.

Sunghoon believed that if everyone followed his formula, many would be spared from heartbreaks and unrealistic expectations. Many would enjoy life more and be happy.

Of course, there were those who disagreed with him—the traditionalists, the religious folks, the ultra-feminists, the sentimental romantics, and those who turned a blind eye to reality. But why should he let them affect him? His life had been free of heartaches since he started practicing the 25-day dating method three years ago. There was one time he had to file a temporary restraining order against a woman who wouldn’t leave him alone, and there were two or three others who still contacted him, unable to move on. But generally, things were good! He had never been this happy before, and dating had never been this fun.

Sunghoon glanced at his sister, who was merely three minutes older than him. “If I were, I would follow my own advice, and I bet you wouldn’t be sad right now.” Sohyun raised a hand in protest. “Oh, no. Don’t involve me in your nonsense. I’m happy being the single, strong, and independent woman that I am, so no thanks.”

“So, you don’t have plans on getting married?” he pressed.

“If I do, then I do. If I don’t, then I don’t,” she replied nonchalantly. “What matters is that I’m not at risk of getting HIV, unlike you.”

Sunghoon laughed. “Is that what you really think of me? Of course, I practice safe sex. And for the record, I didn’t sleep with all of them. Out of the fourteen, it was only about five, maybe six, or even seven.”

“Well, good luck to you then. I hope karma doesn’t catch up with you and slap you with some sexually transmitted disease, or that so-called true love that others talk about, or just a dose of your own medicine, or whatever.” He laughed even harder. “True love, huh? You still believe in that?”

Sunghoon guessed that his sister was still a virgin, unlike him. He hadn’t met any of her boyfriends, although she had admirers. It was also impossible for her to be a lesbian since she would blush over Kim Soohyun and other handsome, muscular K-actors. He suspected that his twin sister had been disheartened before but just didn’t talk about it. Or maybe she simply had high standards.

Sohyun shrugged and took another sip of her coffee. “My dear brother, just because we haven’t experienced something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist, right? Besides, I didn’t come here to discuss your theories on love’s existence.”

He pretended to furrow his brow at her. “Oh, so you just missed arguing with me?”

“Well, there’s a bit of truth to that.” He caught a glimpse of a smile forming at the corner of his sister's lips. “Anyway, I just wanted to mention that I have a friend who’s interested in testing your theory. She wants to date you.”

His eyebrows raised. Someone volunteered?Interesting. This was only the third time something like this had happened. “Alright, how old is she?”

Her sister shot him a look of disbelief. “Really, Hoon? That’s your first question?”

“What?” Sunghoon shrugged.

"She’s a year older than us. She said she was curious about your theory. Also, you’re dating her younger sister, and she wants to spare her from the upcoming heartbreak, so she’s stepping in to date you instead.”

“Huh?” he asked, confused.

“She’s Daehi’s older sister, and she wants you to apply your 25-day dating theory with her.”

“Is this... friend of yours also a sociologist?” He asked as his sister had a doctorate in that field.

She shook her head. “She’s a classmate of mine from the writing workshop I attended last month. We got close after meeting up for coffee regularly.”

“So she’s a writer wannabe too?” he asked, still puzzled.

“Uh-huh. And she’s also a teacher, patissier, sculptor, surfer, future architect.”

Sunghoon’s eyes widened. “Wow, she must be really dedicated to her studies.”

His sister just shrugged. “She’s had a lot of jobs. She says she was born curious.”

A slow smile formed on Sunghoon’s lips. He had a feeling he knew the real motive behind this woman’s interest. Maybe she just wanted to study him, being the friend of his sister. “Hmm... so what’s her name?”

“Yoon Y/n.”

“Hmmm…” he said, pondering. “So this Y/n... is she pretty?”

Her sister rolled her eyes. “Wow, I didn’t know you actually had standards.” Sunghoon chuckled as he scratched his nape.

Sohyun reached into the large bag beside her and pulled out her phone, scrolling and tapping on the screen. Then handed the phone to him.

It was a group picture of the women at the coffee shop. His sister zoomed in on the girl next to her, who was holding a book that he recognized as A Little Life by the cover. She had long, wavy brown hair, fair skin, beautiful sharp eyes, and a lovely smile, and a cute mole right below the side of her left eye.

Beautiful. There were other words he could use to describe her, but they would all be synonymous with that one word—beautiful.

“Hmmm,” Sunghoon said, trying to ignore the sudden flutter in his chest and stomach. “So when are you going to give me Yoon Y/n’s number?”

His sister's grin widened. “I knew that she’s your type!” She handed him her phone, where the details of his new date were displayed. “Just don’t hurt her, okay? If you do, I’ll be the one to beat you up.”

“Of course not. No crying; we’ll just have fun.” he teased.

In his mind, Sunghoon was already planning his next moves. He would probably break things off with Daehi tonight—in a sweet, memorable, and romantic way, of course. Then, he’d gently break up with her. He’ll then contact her older sister, who’s more attractive and seems more challenging.

—

Your sister's face was in a deep scowl as she came down to your workplace, which was just below your house.

"Is it true that you'll be going on a date with Park Sunghoon?" Daehi demanded without any preamble.

It seemed she’d already talked to the guy she’d been seeing lately, and judging by her look, things hadn’t gone well between them. She was still dressed for her last date with Park Sunghoon, wearing a black maxi dress and a fully made-up face. You just nodded, continuing to put on your coat, gloves, and mask as you prepared to meet your new client—someone who, apparently, had only been dead for an hour. Yes, your client was indeed deceased. The family business provided funeral and mortuary services, and you often worked as an embalmer as a side line.

"Why are you doing this, Y/n?" she snapped. "What's your damn point?"

You forced yourself to stay calm, keeping your tone steady. "My point is to spare you from getting your heart broken by a man who clearly doesn’t have good intentions for you."

"I'm not that vulnerable!" she insisted, her voice rising.

"Keep it down, Daehi. You might wake the dead." You smirked, glad you had your mask on—seeing you smile would only fuel her anger.

"This isn’t a joke, Y/n. You’re stealing my date," she snapped. "Why do you have to be such a… a homewrecker?!”

"I’m doing it for your own good, Daehi. And seriously, stop being so dramatic. It’s not like you were about to marry him. He’s a serial dater; he won’t take you seriously."

"You don’t know his heart well enough to say that!"

You burst into laughter. "Oh my god, Daehi! Just stop. You sound like you’re in some soap opera. Are you planning to get into acting?"

She stomped her foot in frustration. "But I like Sunghoon!" Her voice cracked, on the verge of tears. "He's funny, sensible, cute, and I'm falling for him. How could you do this to me?"

You rolled your eyes. A week into knowing him, and she was already ‘falling’? Over-the-top.

You finished putting on your work gear and faced her. "See? This is exactly why I’m doing this, Daehi." You pointed at her. "Look at yourself. You’re too emotional, childish, gullible, and you can’t keep your emotions in check. Especially when it’s for someone who has no intention of truly caring for you and will leave within weeks. You’re choosing to put your heart at risk! And yet, you’re mad at me for trying to protect you? Where’s the logic in that, Daehi?"

Her eyes filled with tears, taken aback by your bluntness.

"I’m not a kid, Y/n. I’m twenty-two; I don’t need your protection. I can handle myself."

You shook your head. "That’s a bit of an overstatement."

She glared at you, her tears starting to fall. "Well, I hope he breaks your heart the way you just broke mine," she said before storming off.

You sniggered to yourself. Your sister really was dramatic.

With a shrug, you walked into the prep room, where you spent the next two hours cleaning, draining the blood, removing the internal organs, injecting formaldehyde, dressing, and applying makeup on your client, a fifty-five-year-old woman.

As you were singing along to the Backstreet Boys' I Want It That Way playing over the speakers—a rather ironic choice given your situation—your phone rang in your pocket. Ignoring it at first, you finally checked when the caller proved persistent. The number wasn’t saved in your contacts.

"Hello?" you answered, not bothering to remove your mask.

"Hi! Is this Y/n?" The voice on the other end made your eyes widen and your heart skip a beat.

Damn, eargasm…

"Uh, y-yes."

"This is Sunghoon, Sohyun’s brother."

"Oh," you said, a bit taken aback. "Hi."

"She told me you were interested in dating me—”

You paused mid-stroke as you applied lipstick to the deceased woman in front of you, finding his words a bit odd. "Uhm…well, Sunghoon—"

"Oh, please, don’t tell me you're backing out. I acted like a jerk tonight and told your sister I found you interesting, and now…”

Your eyes went wide again. "Wow, that was quite harsh!"

You heard him sigh. "I’m really sorry. Sometimes, no matter how much I try to say things well, they just come out wrong. But I do mean well for your sister. She’s sweet, and she deserves someone better. We actually just talked—think we’re on good terms again. Anyway, would you like to meet up tomorrow?"

You stared at the body in front of you. "Uh, wait, Sunghoon... I'm kinda in the middle of something right now. Could you message me the details? But yes, I'll definitely meet you tomorrow."

"That’s great!" His deep voice was filled with excitement. "Okay, I’ll message you. See you tomorrow, Y/n."

"Bye." You quickly ended the call, tucking your phone into your pocket while pressing a hand to your chest.

Good lord, that voice could easily narrate an erotic novel.

After taking a few deep breaths, you got back to work. Once you finished, you cleaned up your supplies and stepped out of the room. You encountered one of the staff members and told them that the body was ready to be placed in the coffin.

You removed your lab gown, mask, and gloves, disinfected yourself, and headed to your parents' office.

“I’m going home now, Mom,” you said to your mother, who was busy at her computer, seemingly lost in calculations. As a Certified Public Accountant, she managed the funeral home's accounting books. "Where's Dad?"

"He just took your sister home. She was crying when she came here and wouldn't stop. She said she's going to lock herself in her room to—her words—cry properly."

You chuckled at the newly found information. Your sister could really be the next big K-drama star.

Your mom looked at you closely. "What happened? Did you two have a fight?" You snorted and sat in the chair across from her large oak desk—the one you used whenever you helped with office work. You explained your sister’s infatuation with a notorious serial dater and how you’d tried to keep her from getting involved. You’d learned about this guy from one of her close friends. Apparently, your sister had gone out of her way to befriend one of Sunghoon’s friends just to get introduced and ask him out.

You weren’t sure if she was influenced by your own adventurous streak, but you knew your younger sister well enough—she wasn’t as detached as you were. She was sentimental, naive, and far too trusting. If you let her go through with this dating scheme, she’d end up crying and heartbroken for sure. "I only want to protect her, Mom. It’s really for her own good."

Your mom laughed. "You’re always like this with Daehi. You’re more overprotective of her than your dad and I are."

You shrugged. "Well, look at your daughter.” It’s like she doesn’t have a brain, you wanted to add.

"But why did you have to volunteer to take her place?" Your mom raised an eyebrow. "You actually want to get involved in that twenty-five-day whatever?"

You scratched your temple. "I just thought it might be easier for him to let go of Daehi if he already has a new date. And, honestly, I’m curious, too, Mom."

Your mother watched you carefully, concern evident in her eyes. "Are you sure you can stay objective while dating that guy? What if you end up falling for him and get hurt?" she asked, worried.

You laughed. "Mom! The man is practically a robot. He has no heart; he plays with women and drops them after twenty-five days. That’s it. How could I ever fall for someone like that?" You almost added, Do you think I’m that foolish? If you didn’t fall for the decent suitors you’d had before, why would you fall for someone like him? It would be a waste of your Business Management degree and your soon-to-be degree in Architecture if you did.

"I hope so. I don’t want to see you get hurt, Y/n."

"Don’t worry, Mom. I know exactly what I’m getting into. This is nothing personal, just like my other little misadventures. I’m just curious."

Her expression softened into a smile. "I was just like that when I was young, too. It’s okay to be free-spirited, dear, but don’t forget to take care of yourself, okay?"

You gave a playful eye roll but smiled. "Mom, if I weren’t careful, would I still be coming home in one piece after everything I’ve done?"

You’d already done a three-day mountain trek, cared for tigers at a zoo, gone skydiving, and much much more.

"Sometimes, sweetheart, no matter how cautious you are, life can still surprise you," she said with a knowing smile.

"Alright, head on home before I end up using today’s earnings just to pay for your overtime." You chuckled. "You’re exaggerating, Mom." You stood up and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Good night."

"Good night, dear. I’ll be home soon, just need to finish up a few things here."

Day 01

If Sunghoon had been less self-assured—if he didn’t have confidence in himself—he might have felt small under the scrutiny he was receiving. It was a stark contrast to the obvious admiration he’d seen on Daehi’s face when they first met. But since he was well aware that he didn’t look bad, he simply held your gaze, studying your features just as carefully as you did.

The night before, he had made his last date with Daehi extra special. Believing that honesty was the best policy, he’d told her about what her sister had said and admitted his interest. She’d walked out, ignoring his repeated calls until, finally, around ten, she picked up.

—

"I feel like a jerk for doing this to you, and I’m really sorry,"

he had said.

"Good that you know!"

she replied.

"I really am sorry."

He heard her sigh on the other end.

“It’s fine, Hoon. I appreciate your honesty. Honestly, my sister is more interesting than me."

"No, no, that’s not what I meant, Daehi—"

"And,"

she cut him off,

“If I’m being honest with myself, I’d admit that there wasn’t much spark between us anyway. Sure, I had a crush on you, but it was more like we were just siblings agreeing to go out on dates."

He exhaled in relief.

“Maybe I just wasn’t the right guy for you. You’re a sweet girl, Daehi; you deserve someone better. Someone who’s not a jerk like me."

"I know, right?"

She laughed on the other end.

He found himself smiling, too.

“So, have you already met my sister?”

There didn’t seem to be any bitterness in her voice anymore.

“I’m calling her tonight."

Daehi giggled.

“Now that I think about it, you two might actually be a good match."

—

He hadn’t fully understood what that meant until he finally got to call you. Your voice sounded muffled, as if there was something covering your mouth while you spoke to him, but he quickly noticed that you didn’t seem like your sister, who was sweet, fun-loving, and romantic. From your tone and demeanor—even though he could barely hear it—Sunghoon could already sense you were more direct, even strict.

Now, facing you in person, his impression was slightly different. You looked like… a scientist—a scientist who was carefully studying some microorganism under a microscope. And he was that microorganism.

To his surprise, you were far more stunning in person than in the photo his twin had shown him—who had even called him earlier to wish him luck. And every part of him that could heat up practically did when he saw you up close.

You weren’t dressed in anything revealing. A simple white satin dress and sandals with a slight heel, not overly curvy or busty, but you radiated an undeniable sex appeal. Sunghoon didn’t know if you had this effect on every man, but on him? If he could—if he really could—he’d grab you, steal a kiss, and whisk you away somewhere private. But, of course, that wasn’t an option. He wasn’t raised that way, after all. Plus, he wanted to get to know you… and stare a little longer. Your face was stunning, such a pleasure to look at.

"You look… okay." It took a moment for Sunghoon to register what you’d said.

"Hmm? Excuse me?" he replied, a bit confused.

You shrugged. "I said you don’t look bad.” you rephrased your statement from earlier, yet, it still sounded unpleasant to his ears.

Wow, who does this woman thinks she is? and what kind of men does she interact with? Models or celebrities, perhaps?

Sunghoon had never met anyone—whether a girl, boy, or someone from the LGBTQ+ community—who called him ugly. Never. The worst comments he’d received were about his skin being too fair, or that his teeth were too white, or that his nose was too perfect, but no one had ever said, or even hinted, that he looked bad.

He couldn't take his eyes off your face. "What do you mean? Am I ugly?"

You laughed. "If you’re ugly, then what do you call an average person?"

Sunghoon exhaled and smiled. Okay, maybe he just panicked and exaggerated a little bit. It seemed that you weren’t being harsh after all. He was just about to open his mouth to thank you when you continued speaking.

"I’m just curious on why you’re doing this. You don’t seem disillusioned. With your looks, you don’t look like someone who would reject someone heartlessly." His smile widened. "Thank you. You don’t look bad yourself."

It seemed like you didn’t even hear what he said and continued your statement. “Unless you have a really terrible personality," you added, which made him frown again. "Or maybe you have smelly feet—"

"Hey, hey, hey, hold it." Sunghoon raised a hand to stop you. "My personality isn’t bad, and my feet definitely don’t smell. I’m doing this 25-day dating thing because it’s effective."

"Says who?" You raised an eyebrow at him.

"Says my three-year record, my unbroken heart, and my happy, stress-free life," he replied confidently. "And a lot of my friends agree with me."

One corner of your mouth lifted in a smirk, and he hated how cute he found that. "Really? Is that so?" Hoon grew serious and crossed his arms. You were confusing him, honestly. He couldn’t tell if you were interested or not. While you became more attractive in his eyes, he was also starting get annoyed by your comments.

"So, what do you want to say?" He shrugged. "Why are we here now?"

"Because I'm curious."

He had a feeling that wouldn’t be the first time that word would come up between you.

"Okay. So you’re willing to do this with me just because you’re curious?" You nodded. "You’ll be wasting twenty-five days of your life just to satisfy that curiosity."

You took a sip of iced coffee from the plastic cup you were holding. "That’s fine. I’m naturally curious. I’ve made most of my big decisions out of curiosity." He didn’t quite believe you, but he decided not to say anything.

He took a deep breath and explained like he was some kind of a tour guide, "So we'll date for twenty-five days, and then we’ll go our separate ways. No hard feelings, no regrets."

"I know that," you nodded, as if you were one of his clients negotiating about projects. Very professional of you.

He sighed, clearly frustrated. "This is so weird."

"Why?" you laughed lightly. "Your dates know the rules too, right? You’ve surely briefed them about it."

"Yes," Sunghoon agreed, "but never like this. They didn’t come in with another motive. They just wanted to get to know me genuinely."

"I actually want to get to know you too," you replied. "What do you mean?"

"It just feels so… unromantic. Impersonal, you know? Like we’re making a business deal."

You laughed again, and damn, why did he find that so cute? He really shouldn’t be feeling that way anymore. "Because this is sort of a business deal, right?"

"That’s not completely true!" he insisted. "If that’s how you think, this isn’t going to end well."

"I'm willing to cooperate," you said seriously.

He scratched his neck. "It doesn’t feel like we’re on a date. It feels like you’re conducting a social experiment, and I’m your subject."

"In a way, that’s correct. I want to get to know you and understand why you’re doing this."

He was getting really annoyed at this point. "Why does that sound like you think I'm some second-rate person just because I chose to handle my love life this way?"

"I'm not judging you, Sunghoon," you replied calmly, which helped keep his irritation in check.

"You’re definitely an interesting person, and I know it’s not just because of this 25-day dating method. But I guess you can’t blame me if I focus on that aspect, right?" You clenched your jaw, trying to avoid saying anything too harsh. "But please don’t take it personally. My curiosity led me to that writing workshop where I met your sister, to continue my studies, and to create that long list of job experiences. So?"

How could he explain this? The theory was meant to be objective to avoid heartache, but the people involved shouldn’t be too detached either. How could you both enjoy your time together if, in the back of his mind, he felt like you were analyzing him? And if you were constantly looking for flaws in his theory, how could he genuinely like you?

"Like I said, I’ve made plenty of decisions just out of curiosity, so this isn’t really different from those."

Oh, really?

He almost voiced his thoughts. Why did it seem like you had ulterior motives? Was it that you were out to disprove his theory? Irritation flared up inside him. Well, you were in for a surprise; he was determined to make you like him so much that you’d forget this whole dating experiment was merely about curiosity.

"Okay, deal," Sunghoon replied.

Your smile was captivating, and for about two point three seconds, he found it hard to breathe. Yet, he was also annoyed because your smile felt like a challenge. You were quickly turning into a mystery for him.

Ah, now he was becoming curious about you too.

How could he feel both frustrated and attracted to one person?

—

"So what do you think?"

Your friend Sohyun asked from the other end of the phone. You had just come home from your meet-up with her brother and had barely stepped into your room.

"I think we’re perfect for each other,"

You replied, deliberately being dramatic.

You could hear Sohyun gasp from the other line, which made you laugh.

"You sound surprised,"

You remarked.

"Now that I think about it, you and Hoon do seem perfect for each other. He’s a guy whose commitment lasts only twenty-five days, and you’re a girl who gets attached only until her curiosity is satisfied. You both seem to have perfected the art of moving on. It works."

"I know, right?"

you replied as you settled down on your bed.

"I think this will turn out well since we’re both objective and not into drama. There’s a chance we could be friends afterward. Though, he seemed a bit taken aback by me earlier. I guess he’s never met a girl who's not romantic or sentimental."

"Our kind is becoming extinct."

You both shared a delightful laugh before Sohyun probed again.

“So what do you think of him? Do you think he’s cute?”

Cute? The word horrified you. What does "cute" even mean? My gosh, he was—

“Okay. He was okay.” you replied, an understatement of the century.

What do you even mean by "okay” ? You didn’t even know how to pretend that you weren’t affected by the man’s presence earlier! Your act was top-notch.

From the tips of his neatly gelled hair to his ridiculously handsome face, his tall and poised frame, the way he carried his simple white button-up long sleeve, black trousers, and Prada loafers, his deep, resonant voice, his piercing gaze, the way his hot canines would show when he smile, and the scent that lingered...

God, did you really need to keep going with those thoughts?

And It didn't help that whenever he looks at you, it felt like he was taking in every feature of your face. You wanted to feel self-conscious and blush fiercely, but thankfully, you weren't really the type to blush. Your earlier image of being a 'confident and detached woman' was almost fading... along with your other panties….

Wait, what!? NO! Y/n, you are an intelligent woman and don’t give in to physical urges that easily!

"You didn't find him attractive?"

Sohyun asked, sounding skeptical from the other end of the line. It seemed she didn’t believe your description of her twin brother, and she was right to doubt it because it wasn't entirely accurate.

"Of course I did,"

You confessed.

“Come on, do you think I'm blind? I maybe in serious need of prescription glasses, but I can still recognize genuine good looks.”

Your friend laughed.

"That's great!”

You briefly pulled the phone away from your ear, surprised by the tone of Sohyun's voice. Was this really your friend on the other line? It sounded like she wanted to play matchmaker, and you, of all people, for her brother? That seemed like a bad idea.

"So when's your next date?"

She asked as you pressed your phone back to your ear.

"Tomorrow. We’re just going to the park so we can talk better. Wednesday works for both of us since we’re free all day."

"Well, good luck to you both. I really hope everything ends well. I hope in the end, you both become wiser, happier, and better people. Because if either of you gets heartbroken, I’ll feel like it’s my fault."

You laughed.

"Come on! I volunteered for this situation. Plus, you know I’m not the type to get heartbroken. You even said I’ve perfected the art of moving on. And it’s not like I’m going to fall in love with your brother while doing this. He knows I’m just curious about it, so it’s not really dating—it’s more of a social experiment."

Your friend's response was a heavy sigh.

“I hope so."

Which made you a bit nervous.

"Anyway, what are your plans for the last week of the month?"

She changed the subject.

"We're planning to go to Jeju. Do you want to come?"

You frowned, wishing you could join them. You missed going to the beach, but it seemed like you wouldn’t be able to go until your semester break.

Day 02

“What's your favorite…” Sunghoon paused, rummaging through his mind for a word to complete the question, “…movie?”

You two were at a public park, just a short car ride from where you live. You both spent the past hour walking, sitting, snacking on random food, and asking each other questions. And honestly, it was boring him to death.

You wore a light blue short dress with white shoes, looking cute as ever. Sunghoon had been holding himself back from leaning closer to give you a kiss very oftenly. His hands were practically glued to his pockets, trying to resist the urge to reach out and feel the softness of your smooth skin.

Maybe he was getting bored because he had something else on his mind—something that wasn't exactly appropriate for a first date, especially not in a public place like ‘the park’.

Your lips puckered a bit as you thought, and—goddammit!—he was once again feeling that strong urge to taste them.

“Stop! Don’t answer that!” Sunghoon blurted out suddenly, startling you.

He sighed. “I’m going to die of boredom if we keep doing this like this.”

“Like this what?” you asked, a slight crease forming between your brows that he couldn’t help but find adorable. He wanted to smooth it out with his fingertip. Maybe in the days to come, he’d get the chance—and the right—to do just that.

“Like this…” He gestured between the two of you. “It’s boring. It feels like we’re filling out a slum book, only verbally.”

You watched him closely, listening intently.

“We need to do this… more naturally.”

You shrugged. “Well, you’re the expert here. Whatever you come up with, I’ll cooperate.”

Maybe we should just make out?

His inner voice teased. But of course, he didn’t act on it. He was a gentleman—at least, outwardly.

“Let’s go.” Sunghoon reached for your arm, guiding you toward his car. He drove the both of you for a few minutes to a nearby mall.

“We’re going shopping?” You looked slightly disappointed.

"No, we’re just gonna try something different," Sunghoon said.

Moments later, you both stood at the movie theater ticket counter, scanning the list of films. "Instead of just asking each other what our favorite movies are, I thought this would be more fun. We’ll watch as many movies as we can today, then discuss them over dinner. Sounds good?” he suggested.

There was a sparkle in your eyes as you smiled at him. “Doesn't exactly match the formula for a second date you mentioned in that magazine article I read.”

He grinned. “Well, that’s true. But let’s give it a shot. Who knows? It might actually be better.”

A slow smile crossed your face, making Sunghoon feel something fluttering once again.

"Consider yourself lucky you asked someone who loves watching movies.”

He laughed. “Sorry, this is pretty unplanned.”

“It’s fine. It’s more thrilling this way. Trust me, I know.” You flashed him another charming smile. “So, which one do we start with? I’ve seen that one,” you pointed to a poster, “but I wouldn’t mind watching it again. The lead actor’s pretty hot.”

Sunghoon chuckled, aside from other things, that’s the thing that he’s starting to like about you: your spontaneity. You both decided to buy tickets for the whole day—three movies, with only a few minutes in between each and all close by. You stocked up on snacks before heading to the first showing, ready for a full day at the movies.

—

"You could definitely work as a movie reviewer if you ever get tired of your job.” you commented that evening as the two of you sat down for dinner at a cozy Korean spot. You had spicy tteokbokki, while he opted for kimchi jjigae, and you shared a plate of Korean fried chicken on the side. You had just wrapped up discussing your thoughts on the films you watched, and though not every movie had been great, you couldn’t help but be impressed by his sharp insights.

"Oh, thank you,” Sunghoon replied, pausing to take another bite of his stew. "I just really like watching movies, so I guess that's why my reviews sound so... extensive." He even used air quotes on the word reviews.

You watched him, thinking. "You know, I’ve never had a date quite like this. Do you usually go all out like this with other people you’ve dated?”

You asked as he flashed you a smile that shows his beautiful canines. "Not really. Actually, this is the first time I’ve tried anything like this. Normally, it’s just one movie on a date, and never before the fifth date. I mean, bringing someone to a dark theater too soon could give them the wrong idea."

You couldn’t help but feel pleased. The man had been on his best behavior in the theater. There were a few moments when your hands brushed in the popcorn tub, and he’d flash you a little grin, like he’d won some small victory. But that was the extent of it.

"Oh, really?" You gave him a skeptical look, clearly showing you didn’t completely believe him.

He chuckled. "Come on, Y/n, give me a break. I’m not just sweet-talking you. Sohyun told you already… and you’ve read about it too. My 25-day dating theory has a strict plan. This was just a small exception."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Alright, maybe I didn’t break any rules exactly. Let’s just say I loosened up a bit today."

"Is that so?" you said with a playful tone. "Guess I’m pretty lucky. I almost thought you’d planned all of this—to have us discuss movies so you could impress me with your reviewing skills." He laughed, eyes narrowing with amusement as his dimples deepened. He looked so handsome when he laughed that you found yourself torn—should you pinch his cheek or just kiss him?

"I swear, I didn't plan it," he said, still grinning. "So, I guess I managed to impress you?”

You smiled back genuinely. “Good enough."

He let out a soft chuckle, shorter than before, but still cute.

“But really, why are you doing this?” you asked as you turned serious.

"You mean the movie reviews?"

You shook your head. "No, I’m talking about your whole... cause. Being a serial dater. What’s the reason behind it?"

"You’re starting sound like a journalist with all these questions." A smile crept back onto his face.

You shrugged. "I’m just curious."

"You really love that word, don’t you?" he said with a smirk.

You shrugged again. "Don't bother keeping track of how many times I say it; you’ll lose count."

After a brief moment, Hoon focused on twirling his pasta around his fork before looking back at you. "I want to live a life free of heartache. If only everyone could be like me. That’s what I truly want."

"Well, I’ve managed to avoid heartache for years, Sunghoon, even before I learned about your method."

His eyes widened in disbelief. "Seriously? Are you saying you’ve never had a boyfriend? Because I’d genuinely think something’s off with every guy you’ve encountered."

You took a moment to process before laughing, finally understanding his point.

"You’re such a flirt; do you realize that?"

You noticed him trying to suppress a grin. "I’m serious." Your smile dimmed a bit.

His compliment flattered you, even if you recognized it as mere flattery. "I’ve had boyfriends before. Twice."

"And you’ve never been heartbroken?" He sounded astonished.

You shrugged with a touch of pride. "As your sister have said, I’m an expert at moving on."

"Is that for real? How do you manage that?"

"I just don’t care too much. I don’t give a lot of f*cks," you replied quickly. "I think that’s the real secret to relationships. Don’t assume, don’t expect too much, and just let things flow in the way that they should." Sunghoon laughed. "I think you’re just saying that to make me doubt my theory."

"I mean, it’s not a secret that I don’t really believe it, right? Let’s just say I’m conducting some research, which is why we’re spending time together. Something like that."

"You know what I think?" He set down his chicken and looked at you intently. "We’ll just go in circles for twenty-five days. I’ll do something to prove my theory, and you’ll do something to disprove it. That’s all. Nothing will come of it; we’ll just be wasting our time."

You adopted a serious tone. "What do you mean?"

Is he really going to wrap this up now? It’s just their first official date!

"I have a suggestion. Can we set aside our biases about how long this date will last? We both know it will end after twenty-five days, so why not enjoy ourselves?"

"If you don’t insist on your theory, I might not argue with you," you teased.

He smiled back. "I genuinely find you interesting, Y/n. I want to get to know the real you, not just this detached and defensive persona you show." Your heart skipped a beat at his words. "Can we go on a date without any hidden motives in the back of our minds?"

You paused to consider. "So, like a genuine date, then?"

Sunghoon nodded. "You mentioned you're curious. Let’s make it real. No hidden agendas, just authentic companionship while we learn about each other. How does that sound?"

You felt a twinge of nervousness, but agreed nonetheless.

Day 05

“Whoa! Your family has a funeral home?"

You couldn’t help but chuckle at Sunghoon’s surprised expression when he picked you up from work.

This was your third date. Over the past few days, your schedule had been packed, and Sunghoon seemed busy with his projects too, so you had settled for chatting, texting, and calling. This was the first time you were going out again.

“Didn’t Daehi mention it to you?” you asked in return.

“We only went on one date; we didn’t get that far in our conversation that night. All I know is that he’s still a student and that his parents are businesspeople. The second date ended in disaster because I told him we should break up.” You shrugged as you settled into the passenger seat of his car. Daehi wasn’t too proud of the type of business you had, so he generally didn’t share much about it with acquaintances and friends.

She wasn’t used to people’s reactions when they found out about the family business. Usually, people were either frightened or overly intrigued, leading to too many questions.

Your sister has never set foot in the morgue because she was afraid. When you were in high school, your dad took you there to explain the embalming process. He believed it was important for the both of you to understand everything about the business since you would eventually inherit it. However, your sister got traumatized when the corpse's eyes suddenly opened while your dad was cutting into its neck. No scientific explanation from your dad could convince her to pursue Mortuary Science after that.

“So, where are we headed now?” you asked, changing the subject. Sunghoon hadn’t said anything when he called you last night, just that you should dress casually and avoid skirts or white clothing if possible.

He smiled playfully while keeping his eyes on the road. “Do you like drive-in movie theaters?”

Your eyes widened as you realized what he meant. “OMG, don’t tell me?”

He was referring to the popular drive-in movie spot near your town.

Sunghoon laughed, probably because of the excitement in your expression. “Yep. Unfortunately, the VIP tickets that include a free dinner are all sold out. We’ll just have cheeseburgers, fries, and popcorn.”

You felt like jumping for joy. “Oh, that’s totally fine! I’ve been wanting to go there for so long, but I could never find someone interested.” You smiled at him. “Thank you, Sunghoon.”

He briefly glanced at you and returned your smile, making your heart race again. “You’re welcome, Y/n.”

You fell silent for a moment during the drive, but soon, your curious companion asked again, "So... are you involved in your family’s business?"

You nodded. "Uh-huh. I often help out when we’re understaffed," you replied without elaborating.

"Meaning, you also do embalming?"

You burst out laughing at Sunghoon’s expression. "Of course! You’re talking to a licensed embalmer here."

"Really?" He still seemed in disbelief.

"You have a problem with that?"

He shrugged his broad shoulders. "Aren't you a bit too pretty to be an embalmer?"

You were grateful that you didn’t blush easily. If you did, you would be bright red from the handsome compliment. "You're exaggerating. So, you think only unattractive people should be embalmers?" you said with mock horror.

He shook his head. "You know that's not what I mean. I just think you’d be better suited to be a model or an actress."

You paused for a moment before breaking into a wide smile. "Seriously? Is that how you talk to all the girls you date? Did that work for them?"

"Seriously," he replied, pretending to frown at you. "Anyway, I'm still curious. Do you like your job? Aren't you uncomfortable working with dead bodies?"

You examined Sunghoon’s arms for goosebumps, but there were none. You explained, "I have no choice but to like it. Come on, it has been my family's cause of living. My parents built it from the ground up long before I was born. All these years, those bead bodies have been what supported our family." You paused for a moment. "Wait, that sounds wrong. Did I just say that dead bodies support our family?" You both laughed. If taken literally, it sounded like they were zombies—brought back to life by the dead.

"Sorry if my reaction offended you," Sunghoon said after your laughter faded.

You waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, it’s nothing! I’m used to that. Your reaction is totally normal, I tell you. It is pretty morbid, though." You decided to change the subject. "So, do you enjoy being a freelance digital artist?"

"Yes." He answered simply.

“Is that it?" you probed, wanting to hear more of his thoughts.

Sunghoon chuckled, a glint of enthusiasm lighting up his eyes. "Well, it's challenging. I see every project as a challenge, and I rarely get bored.”

"Sohyun told me you also design book covers. Do you get to read all the books you work on?" As a bookworm yourself, that thought thrilled you.

"Sometimes," he said with a shrug. "More often than not, clients provide just a synopsis. If they want a mysterious vibe, they’ll only mention the themes. Some clients have a specific idea of what they want for the cover, which simplifies things. But I really enjoy having more control over the whole process; it adds a certain thrill."

"I assume you take your own photos?"

"Sometimes. But that usually raises the cost. Most of the time, I either purchase stock photos or draw them myself."

You took a moment to reflect, appreciating how the conversation flowed since it felt comfortable and engaging. "But what if the cover doesn't match the book? Like, if the cover looks flawless but the content is awful? Does that bother you?"

He shook his head, concentrating on steering the car as he made a right turn.

"But isn’t that misleading? Doesn’t it seem like false advertising?"

"Not my concern," he said casually. "My job is to design a cover that boosts sales. That’s it. It doesn’t matter if the book is bad; the cover just needs to look appealing enough to attract buyers."

"Oh no, I don’t agree with that," you replied after a pause.

"What don’t you agree with?" Sunghoon asked, genuinely intrigued.

"The false advertising part. I’ll always choose honesty, even if it’s brutally honest, over any kind of deception."

“Ouch!” Sunghoon clutched his chest as if he were in pain. “That hurts! Did you just call me a liar?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his exaggerated reaction. “Come on, I didn’t say you specifically. And don’t take it personally; I can be a bit opinionated sometimes. That’s just my perspective; it doesn’t mean I’m right. I know that sometimes we can’t avoid lying to others. The truth can hurt, and if we want to spare someone’s feelings, we have no choice but to hide certain truths.” You took a deep breath, feeling slightly drained from the amount you just expressed. “Anyway, what movie are we going to watch now?”

Sunghoon's expression brightened as he began to explain where you would be headed next.

—

“Well, isn’t this such a romantic scene,” you teased, laughing lightly.

You had just wrapped up the first movie of the double feature, and now it was intermission before the next one. A local band was serenading the audience with a popular love song while you both lay on a plush mattress in the back of his F150, gazing up at the stars. Hoon turned his head to catch a glimpse of you, who was lost in the beauty of the night sky, filled with twinkling stars. A playful grin crept onto his face as an idea struck him.

“It’d be more romantic if you scooted a little closer and rested your arm on mine,” he suggested. “Then I could lean in toward you—”

You burst into laughter. “In your dreams, Park.”

His smile grew wider at your reaction. Hearing you laugh filled his heart with warmth, and he silently vowed to always give you reasons to smile. “You really come off as someone who’s anti romantic when you laugh like that at those certain things, you know?” he teased, inching closer until your shoulders brushed against each other, savoring the sweet scent of your hair.

“Daehi also told me that I don’t have a romantic bone in my body. What does that even mean?”

"Aww. Your suitors must have it tough since you’re not easily swayed by romantic gestures."

You shrugged. "I don't know why either."

"So, you're probably not sentimental either?" he asked, curious.

"Well, I get sentimental about family, movies, things like that—those kinds of stories make me tear up."

"Really?" Sunghoon propped his elbow on the grass, resting his head on his palm so he could look at you instead of the sky. Somehow, the star beside him seemed to shine brighter than the ones above. "No wonder you didn’t cry during Eye for an Eye,” he pointed out, referring to a movie you’d watched on your second date.

You shifted to mimic his position, a sparkle of amusement in your eyes. "You were the one who cried!" you teased. "Did you think I didn’t notice you sniffing?"

That made Sunghoon smile in embarrassment, and he couldn’t resist playfully pinching your cheek. You swatted his hand, but he simply held it gently and planted a quick kiss on the back of it. You seemed a bit too stunned to react, and his smile faded for a moment.

"I don't remember enjoying conversations this much with any of my ex-dates. They were never this fun or this easy to talk to," he admitted seriously.

You felt a little flustered and looked away, but managed to crack joke, "Oh, so you're using seduction as a technique now, huh?"

Sunghoon reached out and gently held your chin, bringing your gaze back to meet his. "It’s called honesty, Y/n. You said you appreciate honesty, that’s why I’m telling you.”

Your mouth opened as you thought of something to say, but before you could respond, the host's voice came through the speakers, announcing that the next movie was about to start.

"Come on, let’s get up," you said.

"Wait a sec," Sunghoon replied, pulling out his phone and holding it up above you. "Let's take a pic first."

You pretended to strangle him for the photo.

—

You couldn’t quite explain the feeling as you lay in bed that night. A smile lingered on your lips, and there was a lightness in your chest that wouldn’t fade.

You closed your eyes, trying to drift off, but then Sunghoon’s face would pop back into your mind from when you both had been together earlier.

Out of everyone you’d dated, he was easily the most handsome; no question about it. But you weren’t the type to fall for just a pretty face. Sure, Sunghoon was easy on the eyes, his whole presence was. But that wasn’t the only reason you felt drawn to him. You both shared a laid-back approach to life and relationships—no unnecessary drama, no over-the-top seriousness.

You liked his voice—deep and soothing to the ears. If you weren’t mistaken, “mellifluous” was the right word for it. You had a feeling it’d sound amazing if he ever decided to sing. You also liked how he spoke his mind, how his eyes always glinted playfully, and how his mouth would curve into a restrained smile. It just made it harder to breathe whenever he did both while looking at you with those beautiful eyes.

A soft giggle escaped you as you recalled how it felt like fireworks had gone off inside you when Sunghoon kissed the back of your hand and told you he enjoyed your conversation.

You shook your head. No, you were just amused—not smitten. Who were you kidding? You knew this wasn’t anything long-term—scratch that, association was probably the better term. So why let yourself get swept away?

Your train of thought was interrupted when your phone chimed, signaling a text. You picked it up and couldn’t help but smile when you saw Sunghoon’s name.

Park Sunghoon: Just got home. Quick drive, no traffic.

Park Sunghoon: You asleep?

You briefly debated ignoring it and pretending to be asleep, but your fingers had already started typing.

You: 😴

He replied instantly.

Park Sunghoon: Oh, you look pretty when you’re asleep, Y/n.

You were about to respond with Only when I’m asleep? when your phone rang, startling you so much you almost threw it. The ringing wouldn’t stop, though, so you answered it.

“Hi, gorgeous."

A pandemonium erupted in your chest.

Just like the first time you’d heard Hoon’s voice over the phone, you thought he’d have made a great telephone operator… or maybe an audiobook narrator… or someone you’d call when you wanted a little phone fun.

Huh?

“Y/n?”

He called out again, snapping you back to reality.

“I told you I was asleep, didn’t I? So why’d you call?”

You asked, pretending to be annoyed. He only laughed in response. And oh, that laugh—so rich, so masculine, and so dangerously seductive.

You bit your bottom lip to hold back a giggle.

“Are you free tomorrow? It’s the last day of the Hot Air Balloon Fest, and I was hoping to take you,”

He said out of nowhere, making your heart pound.

Seriously, no segue? Did he have no mercy on your poor heart?

You were about to say yes when you remembered the date.

“Oh, sorry. Midterms are on Monday. I need to review tomorrow.”

“How about we go in the morning so you can study in the evening?”

You sighed.

“I wish I could say I’d be able to study three subjects with just a few hours.”

“Is that so?”

You could sense the disappointment in Sunghoon’s voice, and you felt like kicking yourself. Why hadn’t you reviewed yesterday or earlier today to lighten your load for tomorrow? Honestly, why did you sign up for a new course when you already had a degree in Business Management and an embalming license? Why did you fill up your calendar so much that it made it hard for Sunghoon to take you out on a proper date?

“You’re way too busy, a student and an embalmer, huh?”

He laughed, which made you smile.

“Yeah, I’m also a patisserie chef, a licensed aromatherapist, an ex-surfer, a former high school teacher, a photographer, an average mountaineer, and a sculptor—”

“Whoa!”

Sunghoon exclaimed.

“You’ve studied all of that?”

“Yeah.”

“But why? I mean, aside from just being interested.”

He asked, clearly curious.

"That's just how I am. I enjoy learning new things, visiting new places, and experiencing different things,"

You explained, chuckling at his response.

“Do you like to travel as well?"

"Uh-huh. If I didn’t have to help out at the funeral home, I would’ve traveled more and tried out different things."

"With all the things you want to do, I guess starting a family isn’t in your plans yet?"

"I'm only twenty-five, come on."

"But what I mean is, is it part of your plan? Or are you also like Sohyun? Just trying you ignoring that aspect of life?”

"Well, finding the right person is tough. You can't really plan on falling in love with someone and wanting to marry them. Love doesn’t come with a timetable,"

You said with a laugh.

“That was cheesy, I’m sorry.”

He chuckled softly.

“But it’s true.”

You shrugged even though he couldn't see you.

"And besides, we're dating, right? Who knows, maybe I'll end up liking this 25-day dating method of yours and follow your lead. At least it doesn’t come with too much commitment."

There was a moment of silence on his end.

Then he shifted the conversation.

"Anyway, do you want me to help you review?"

Uhm, hello? And how are you supposed to study when there's a tempting distraction right in front of you?

You let out a soft laugh.

"Thanks, but how about we just go out on Monday night instead?"

"But there won't be a Hot Air Balloon Fest then; tomorrow is the last day."

You felt a pang of disappointment—not just because you also wanted to experience the hot air balloon ride, but because Sunghoon seemed genuinely sad about your refusal.

"I'm sure there are plenty of other places we can check out."

Sunghoon exhaled thoughtfully for a moment before laughing.

“Oh, I had just the perfect idea. Alright, I’ll see you on Monday."

"Okay,"

You responded, trying to sound shy. But goodness! Why were you getting excited already? You had just parted ways!

“It’s a date.”

You hummed and nodded in agreement.

“So, Y/n,”

Sunghoon’s voice lowered an octave, sending a thrill through you.

“What are you wearing?”

You felt your cheeks flush. Oh god, his incredibly sexy voice sent shivers down your spine, leaving you breathless. Your face felt warm all over.

“Park Sunghoon!”

You scolded, realizing what he was doing. He laughed heartily, clearly enjoying the tease.

Day 07

"You look happy. I’m guessing you’re going on a date again, right?" your classmate Yunjin nudged you, clearly teasing.

As you all headed out of the college building, carrying your bags after finishing three tough exams, you smiled at her. Since you were pursuing a second degree, she was younger than you, which reminded you of Daehi.

“I’m just glad the exams are finally over. Now I only have my thesis and finals left to tackle.”

“Already? You’re such a downer. Why don’t you come with me and Kaz to karaoke tonight,” she suggested.

You remembered your conversation with Sunghoon on Saturday night before you fell asleep. He had mentioned he had a surprise for you later.

"Ah, I have a prior commitment, sorry."

Yunjin clicked her tongue, though she was smiling. "I knew it, you have a date with Dracula's son."

Something inside you reacted to what you heard. That’s what your friend calls Sunghoon—like a vampire. Because of how the guy looks (in a good and hot way), and you couldn't disagree more with that.

Since early Sunday morning, he had checked up on you a few times and checked how your review was going. You only responded to him twice to avoid showing how much you missed him more than you should have.

You shrugged while concentrating on the path to the train station. “Just a pretend date. You know I'm just trying it out. And he wants to convince me to do the same 25-day thing he’s doing."

"Well, for someone who's pretending to date, you two are pretty convincing. It doesn’t seem like it’s just pretend, with the sparkle in your eyes when you mention him. It looks like you're genuinely attracted to him. And who could blame you, right?" She teased. "Oh my God, just his eyebrows alone make me swoon." Your friend was practically gushing.

You laughed. "Really? His eyebrows?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying! His eyebrows alone are enough to make anyone swoon. Just imagine if we talk about his eyes, his nose, his lips, his jawline... Oh my gosh! And his body!" She practically squealed again.

You smacked your friend lightly. "Hey, stop that! You look like you're having a seizure.”

She paused and you saw her gaze fixated on something in the distance, a wide smile spreading across her face. You followed her line of sight, and there he was. Butterflies and worms were stirring in your stomach. Oh wow, Park Sunghoon really does look like a walking wet dream.

He was standing by his car, wearing a simple blue-and-white striped button-up, beige trousers, and his favorite loafers, looking like he had just gotten a fresh haircut. But what truly made him look even better was that broad smile and bright expression when he saw you.

You both had planned to meet for dinner later.What was he doing here on campus?

"My God, Y/n, if you won’t take him for real, I swear I’m going to steal that panty-cream of yours and keep him for myself,” you heard Yunjin say with a mock squeal, giving you a playful shove.

"Get over there before someone else beats you to it! I’m leaving so you two can have some privacy and so I won’t be tempted to kiss someone else's date. Bye!"

You shook your head and laughed at your friend, who had stayed back in her spot, just watching you and Sunghoon.

Your heart raced as he walked towards you. "How did your exams go?" he greeted, his sweet smile still on his lips.

You shrugged. "It was okay, though I almost bled out from the level difficulty," you joked. "Why are you here so early? Don’t you have work today?"

He raised a hand and brushed away some stray strands of hair from your forehead and temple. "I finished everything last night so I could see you earlier. I missed you."

You pretended to roll your eyes, but a wide smile broke through. The jerk was flirting with you again, and you let him don it anyway.

"You don’t have any classes, right? Do you have somewhere else to go?" Sunghoon asked, sizing you up.

You shook your head. You were just planning to have a beauty rest at home while waiting for your dinner date. But now that the object of your beautification was right in front of you…

"Then, let’s go!" Sunghoon took your hand and pulled you toward his car.

"Where are we going? It’s still too early for dinner."

It wasn’t even two in the afternoon yet.

"It’s a surprise," he said with a grin as he opened the door for you. For a brief moment, you felt the urge to kiss his lips just to see if that smile was as sweet as it looked.

—

He had been restraining himself, curious about whether your sweet smile really tasted as delightful as it appeared. Although you were dating, it didn’t feel entirely like one, leaving him uncertain about whether he had the right to kiss you whenever he wanted. In the back of Sunghoon’s mind was the reason you were together at that moment: your insatiable curiosity.

Regardless, he was enjoying your company.

He watched you as you soared through the air, gripping tightly while paragliding with the guide. Your gaze was fixed on the scenery, especially the setting sun illuminating one side of the mountains.

It would have been more enjoyable and more romantic for him if he were the one gliding with you, but he wasn’t an expert at it yet, so it wasn’t possible. Nevertheless, he enjoyed himself even while gliding separately. The sound of your laughter and squeals filled the air, bringing a light and sweet emotion to his heart.

He saw you ran over to him as soon as you got out of the harness and greeted him with a tight hug. "That was so much fun! The sunset is beautiful. Thank you, Sunghoon." He returned the hug and lifted you slightly off the ground, making you squeal in surprise.

All traces of regret over not gliding together earlier faded away. He set you down and stepped back a little to see your face. Sweat glistened on your skin, but you looked radiant with beauty and youth.

He couldn’t hold back any longer and leaned down to give you a quick yet firm kiss on the lips.

“We’ll do it again, I promise. Next time, I’ll make sure I’m good at this so I can glide with you,” Sunghoon said directly, trying to mask the impact that kiss had on him. God, his knees felt weak, and it had nothing to do with the activity they just did.

He gently caressed your cheek. "Come on, it’s getting dark."

That was when you seemed to snap back to reality, pulling away from him in surprise. He felt a rush of happiness knowing he wasn’t the only one affected by that innocent kiss. He took your hand, squeezing it gently, and pulled you closer to your group.

A few hours later, feeling satisfied with what you both had eaten, you were on your way home, chatting cheerfully about various topics.

"Do you have class tomorrow?" Sunghoon suddenly asked as he noticed that you both were getting close to your house. He wanted to gaze at you, but that wasn’t safe since he was driving.

"No, but I have work," you replied, referring to the funeral home. "Why, are we going on another date?"

"Just a dinner, maybe. Is that okay?" He shot you a cute look, trying to deceive you into agreeing with him. What annoyed him was that you didn’t know how to blush; he couldn’t tell if his moves were working on you.

You gave him a playful glare. "Is this how you are with your past dates? Do you really go out every night? That must cost a lot."

No was the right answer to your question. Sunghoon only took his dates out once a week because they both had jobs. But he wasn’t ready to admit that this was different from his past dates. He even recalled how you laughed when he told you that you were the most enjoyable person to talk to among all his dates. He shrugged and feigned confidence, saying, "You know that I could easily get a sugar mommy, right?”

"Oh my god!" You playfully hit his shoulder while laughing. "If we go out every week, I might get tired of seeing your face, Park."

He pretended to wince, “Ouch?”

You laughed even louder. "I’m just kidding!”

You pinched his cheek. "Stop acting cute. Alright, come over to my place so we can save some money. I can teach you how to embalm."

The young man smiled. You were wrong when you thought that the he would refuse your offer. He was already starting to come up with a strategy; he would keep his focus on you the entire time you were at the morgue. That way, if anyone else was there or if the corpse did something unexpected, he wouldn’t notice.

“You can also join us for dinner.” you added. "I’ll cook you some japchae, kimchi fried rice, and kimbap."

He couldn’t help but grimace, but that quickly faded into laughter, making his reaction even more apparent. A warm feeling spread through his chest as he listened to your voice and observed your expression.

To Sunghoon’s dismay, you both had already reached your house, and it was time to say goodbye.

"But you really should get home before eight tomorrow because I have another exam the day after," you reminded him.

He quickly brainstormed. "I could help you study for that."

"Yeah, but you might end up distracting me from my review even more."

He shrugged. "Alright, I promise I won't smile or smolder too much so you can focus."

You laughed at what he said. "That's not what I meant, Park.”

"I'll behave, I swear. Come on."

You looked at him, weighing your options. You weren't sure what other reasons you could use to discourage him. Sunghoon raised a hand and tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear. "If you haven't noticed, I’m going to spell it out for you: I'm just making up reasons to spend more time with you, Y/n. I just want to be with you more, so please don’t make it hard for me."

You froze, your eyes wide as you focused on him. After a moment, you playfully punched him on the shoulder.

"Such a flirt," you chuckled.

He secretly frowned. This seemed to be the issue with your situation; you took everything he did as a joke or just an act. "Well, you said you appreciate honesty," he shrugged.

You observed him for a few moments, trying to gauge on whether he were serious. Then, you flashed a sweet smile. "I think it's time for you to meet my parents. Come on in."

He was surprised as he watched you step out of the car and walk in front of his window, knocking on it.

"You coming or not?" you asked when he finally opened his door.

“Coming!” he shortly replied, quickly hurrying to follow you into the house. All the while, it felt like there was a hyper drummer keeping time in his heart.

Day 11

Sunghoon found himself distracted as he worked on designing a website for a Christian foundation. His gaze kept shifting to his phone, waiting for a reply from you. He missed you, and if he could, he’d fast-forward through the days just to see you again.

His mind wandered back to the day after your paragliding adventure…

—

A big smile had spread across Sunghoon’s face the moment he woke up that morning. He’d started his work early to get as much done as possible before heading to your place later.

He enjoyed spending time with your parents. And, without sounding too confident, he could tell they liked him as well. Meanwhile, it seemed that Daehi had already moved on from him. She spent a bit of time chatting with the rest before she headed upstairs, saying she was expecting a call on her cellphone—most likely from her suitor, who, judging by her smile, she liked too.

Anyway, he had a great time with Yoon’s. Your parents were hardworking, down-to-earth, and wise in conversation. They took pride in their work, honoring the departed with respect and dignity. They didn’t let him leave right away, so it was around ten when he finally said goodbye. Later, lying in bed, you exchanged a few more chat messages before officially calling it a night.

By the next morning, all he could think about was none other than Y/n, Y/n, Y/n. He was eager to see you again, but work got in the way. By eight in the morning, he couldn't take it any longer and finally gave in to the urge to call you.

The call connected after two rings. "Hi! Good morning!" he greeted brightly. But what answered was a sniffle. "Sunghoon..."

Concern quickly filled him. "Are you crying? What happened? Is something wrong?"

"M-my grandmother... She p-passed away," you stammered before breaking into sobs. Between shaky breaths, you explained that your father’s mother had been found unresponsive at her home in the province. She was eighty-four, had been a widow for a long time, and lived with the family of one of her children.

"I'm sorry, but we won’t be able to meet later. We’re packing right now since we’re flying out to Busan this afternoon. Dad’s assistant will handle things at the funeral home while we’re gone."

Sunghoon felt a wave of disappointment but kept it hidden. “I could drive you and your family to the airport."

"No need. We don’t want to trouble you. We’ll just take an Uber." You sniffled again. "She was so full of life when she celebrated her birthday in October."

Sunghoon sighed. "Y/n..." He wished he could be right there beside you, to hold you and offer comfort.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. I need to finish packing quickly. I’ll call you later, okay?”

"Alright," he replied quietly. "Take care on your trip."

"I'll see you in ten days, Hoon. Bye."

"I miss you already," he murmured, but you weren’t able to catch that.

—

Now, four days later, Sunghoon was feeling lost and out of sorts. Their nightly calls were the only thing keeping him sane. His distracted gaze left his phone when he heard a door opening. A moment later, the door cracked open, and his twin sister's face appeared.

"Hey! How's my devilishly charming brother?" Sohyun greeted him with a quick kiss on the cheek. "How's Y/n? I heard her grandmother passed away."

He explained the situation to her.

"So, she won’t be back until next week?" she asked, surprised. "She’ll have a lot of classwork to catch up on."

"Yeah, I know…” he replied, not paying much attention to his sister.

Sohyun gave him a knowing look, but he didn’t notice, his eyes still glued to his phone.

“That explains why you look like that. You miss her already,” she teased.

He turned to her, frowning, and swallowed before answering, “Just a little.”

Sohyun laughed loudly, wrapping an arm around his head and patting his hair. “Aw, my poor brother.”

Annoyed, he pulled away.

“You guys are talking on the phone, right?” she pressed on.

“Of course. Whenever she doesn’t have visitors to entertain and when she has signal connection.” He hadn’t meant to sound bitter, but it slipped out, and Sohyun hugged him again.

“Have you met up with Jake and the others recently?”

He was confused by her question. Since when did his sister take an interest in his friends? “About three weeks ago, why?”

She shrugged. “I just think you should go out with them sometimes. Might keep you from being too… heartbroken—I mean, bored.”

He scowled at his sister, "Cut it out. I'm not in love with her."

She just laughed at his obvious lie and gave his shoulder a pat. He thought he might’ve heard her murmur, "So defensive."

Before he could reply, she added, "Mom and Dad were asking about you, by the way. That’s why I came by. You can meet up with Jake and the others tomorrow instead. Come with me to see them—they’ve been missing us. Shut down your computer, and let’s go visit them together so we can both get the ‘when are you getting married’ talk.”

Sunghoon agreed, feeling that he missed their parents too, along with the great food and warm, cheerful atmosphere at home.

"Please tell me you've found her, son."

They had just finished lunch together—a rare occasion now that both him and his sister had moved out. They really cherished these moments, and their mom had even prepared a special meal, complete with dessert. Now, he and his father were on the porch, enjoying coffee where it was shaded and cool even in the midday heat. Sunghoon watched his father thoughtfully. To him, his dad had always embodied gentle strength, integrity, and inner peace. He admired him deeply for his loyalty to family, especially to his mom. Sunghoon aspired to be like him, but it was one thing to say it and another to live it.

Just finding a woman he could love for life was already proving difficult.

He smiled at his father. "Almost there, Dad.”

His father’s eyes sparkled with warmth. "That's good to hear. It’s better than your usual answer of ‘not yet.’ That’s progress." He gave him a meaningful look. "Have you met someone?"

Sunghoon hesitated, considering whether to mention you. Yes, you were different from anyone else he’d dated, but he didn’t want to raise his dad’s hopes—or his own. It still felt like you both were just testing the waters.

It wasn’t serious at all. It felt more like a casual friendship between him and you, an agreement to meet and get to know each other over twenty-five days. That was all there was to it. It was unrealistic to expect anything more.

Besides, he wasn’t really in love with you. He liked you, cared about you, and enjoyed spending time together. He felt attracted to you; he lusted after you. That was it.

He shrugged. "Same old same, Dad. Just casual dates."

His father patted him on the shoulder. "You said it’s getting closer. That’s good enough for me. Just make sure to introduce her to us, okay?" Sunghoon nodded. "Your mom and I are getting older, and I really want to have a grandchild while I can still carry and chase one around."

The younger man took a sip of coffee from his mug. "You still have Sohyun, Dad."

"It seems more likely to happen if it’s you I’m counting out on."

Sunghoon just smiled. He wondered if his sibling was also like him when it comes to this love thing, pretending to be indifferent but secretly searching for the kind of love their parents had found.

—

"I think Y/n would really like parasailing. We could go to the nearest beach here. She has a lot of lessons to make up for due to her absences. Can I have the contact number?"

They were able to meet up that evening after he returned from his parents' house. Sunghoon glanced up at Jake from his phone, waiting as he took his time dictating the numbers. He noticed his friends staring at him with amused expressions.

He furrowed his brow at them. “The fuck is wrong with you guys?" he asked.

Jay grinned. "You."

Sunghoon’s frown deepened. "Huh?"

"Bro, we're hitting our favorite bar to catch up, talk, and have some drinks," Jay explained. "And if you used to look at these outings as opportunities to find your next date, now all you seem to talk about is 'Y/n this, Y/n that.' Damn, are you in love or something?" He laughed as if to annoy him.

And it indeed annoyed him.

"Did I say something wrong?" Sunghoon’s voice raised slightly.

They had been friends since college and were known as those typical playboys who would change their girlfriends faster then they would change clothes. Now, they were all married, leaving him as the only single one. They knew each other's quirks, but sometimes, small misunderstandings would crop up, especially when they shot him those odd looks.

"Relax, Hoon." Heeseung said. "We’re just a bit thrown off by you, but you’re good. Go on and tell us more about this Y/n and how she brought some color to your otherwise dull and meaningless life." He added a dramatic hand gesture, as if performing a piece of poetry, and that made the guys laugh at their youngest.

Sunghoon scowled. “I’m not in love with her, okay? What’s wrong with you guys?"

"Bro, trust me. You sounded like you were just minutes away from marrying her earlier," Jay interjected. "It’s like you’re just like us now. Everything you used to fight for, you’ve completely forgotten."

He paused, his beer halfway to his lips. "What do you mean?"

"Hoon, to us, you’re the definition of a carefree and independent guy. You’re just chill with your career, love life, and family—enjoying everything without any pressure. You don’t commit to anyone, so you’ve been heartache-free all this time, right? You even take pride in your serial dating. You don’t need a girl, and you’re not shedding any tears over them. You’re single, and you love it. You were the man, Hoon—at least, you used to be," Heeseung explained. "But now, look at you—constantly talking about your Y/n. You seem really attached to her, and you sound like a completely different person. It’s like you’re in love."

He paused for a moment, trying to regain his composure. "You’re just imagining things, Hyung."

His friend shook his head. "There’s nothing wrong with being in love, though. We’re happy for you, of course. We’re just a little surprised."

He forced a smile. "Fuck off. I’m not in love." But even to his own ears, he sounded pathetic, which made him feel uneasy.

Day 18

"Well somebody’s got a different glow today," Daehi commented, watching you in the mirror of the room you were using at your grandmother’s house. It was the same room you used to stay in eight years ago, before you moved to Seoul for college.

You smiled at her. "Liar. Look at how huge my eyebags are."

Daehi moved to stand beside you at the vanity mirror, staring at both of your reflections. "Your eyes are sparkling, I swear. It's like you’re excited to go home or something." She grinned mischievously. "Maybe someone’s waiting for you at the airport? Someone you’ve missed a lot?" She even pinched your side, making you playfully frown at her.

"Look who’s talking—you’re the one with a new guy," you teased, hinting at her frequent phone calls lately. "What’s his name again?"

"Yuno," she said, steering the conversation back to you. "And how are things with Hoon? Should I start addressing him as my ‘brother-in-law’ now?" she asked with a grin.

You shrugged nonchalantly, even though just hearing his name made your heart race. Ten days of only seeing him through your phone made you miss him even more. You couldn’t wait to see, smell, and hold him again.

You sighed. "Same as always."

"Liar," your sister scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Come on, Ican see that sparkle in your eyes. Stop denying it."

You took a deep breath. "Daehi, what we’re doing is just a kind of experiment, not an actual relationship. It’s for research. He just wants to prove he’s right, which is probably why he’s being a little flirty. And I can’t let myself fall for someone who I know won’t reciprocate my feelings. That would be like walking straight into heartbreak. And I’m not stupid.

Your sister's face wrinkled in thought. "Can’t? Sis, I don’t think anyone can decide not to fall in love. It just happens. Sometimes you realize it, but more often, it sneaks up on you… especially when you're busy denying it and convincing yourself it’s all just an experiment."

Her words made you uneasy, but you quickly thought of a comeback. "Oh, really? Since when did you become a love expert? Whose post did you steal that from? Send me the link; I’ll study it."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. You act like I do nothing but scroll online all day." A smirk spread on her face, hinting she was joking. "And for your information, it wasn’t a post. It was a tweet from my favorite writer."

“Yeah, sure.” You both laughed together.

After a moment, you glanced at your wristwatch. "What time are we leaving? The check-in line might be long."

"We're about to leave. We're just waiting for Jiwon. He was the one who wants to tag along, yet he’s taking his sweet time as if no one is waiting," Daehi complained. "So full of himself, too. It’s annoying that he’s on our flight."

You chuckled; Jiwon lived just across the street and had been trying to win you over since high school. Now, he was a lawyer based in Seoul.

“Just let it go. His flirting is harmless, so…” You shrugged.

“But when you and Sunghoon break up next week, don’t you dare give that arrogant guy a chance, okay? He’s gross,” Daehi replied, making a face.

You stopped short, only registering the first part of her statement. Oh, right, today marks Day 18 of your “relationship” with Sunghoon.

Seven days left before you part ways...

A heavy feeling settled in your chest.

—

"It's fine for us to just take a taxi, Jiwon," your father said to the playful puppy accompanying you toward the arrival area.

"No, I won't allow that. I'm sorry, Mr. Yoon. We have a car that can fit all of us and our luggage. Why would you want to commute? It's safer to know who will be driving you, right?"

You couldn't help but jump in. "We have someone picking us up, Won. Sorry." You turned to your parents while tucking your phone into your pocket, where you'd been speaking with your ride. "Sunghoon is waiting for us."

"Oh, good," your mother replied.

Your father beamed widely, and Daehi even clapped. It seemed like they all preferred Sunghoon over the lawyer.

As you stepped outside, an SUV pulled up right on cue. Sunghoon got out and greeted you with a broad smile.

"Welcome back," he said, moving to lift one of the suitcases into the car. You couldn’t take your eyes off him; you really missed him. You were snapped back to reality when he approached you and, as usual, brushed a few strands of hair away from your face. "Ready to go?" he asked softly.

Only then did you realize that all your things were already loaded into the SUV, and your family was seated inside. You glanced back at Jiwon, who stood behind you with a frown.

"We'll head out first. Bye!" You climbed into the passenger seat next to Sunghoon.

As soon as you closed the door, your companions started chiming in, all complaining about the lawyer.

Luke couldn’t help but smile. "You guys really don’t like him, huh?"

They all chimed in with their complaints again.

The guy laughed outright. "He seemed fine when he introduced to me earlier." You were taken aback by that. Had the two guys already met while you were zoning out? Was he meaning to say that you stood there like a fool for a good few minutes?

"Well, maybe he was intimidated by you," your dad joked.

“Other than being a neighbor, what else is your connection to him, if you don’t mind me asking?” Sunghoon asked.

“He’s Y/n’s suitor since high school, and he’s still trying to win her over, even after getting rejected for at least ten times now.”

“Daehi,” you interjected, hoping to prevent any further comments.

“Don’t worry, Sunghoon doesn’t seem like the jealous type at all,” your mischievous little sister teased, laughing.

Your parents chuckled. You glanced at the guy mentioned; he just smiled, seemingly unfazed.

“How was Busan, by the way?” you heard him ask your family in the car.

“It was okay. Many people came to visit and mourned for Mama; it’s clear she was loved by many,” your mom replied. She wasn’t teary-eyed anymore when talking about the elder, unlike during their early days in the province.

“My condolences. I wanted to fly to Busan, but—”

“Oh, that’s really not necessary, Sunghoon. We know you care; you’ve called us several times and even sent flowers, and that’s enough. You don’t need to travel all the way here. It would just be too much of a hassle for you,” your dad said with a smile.

“Anyway, who’s up for some Korean barbecue and bibimbap?” Your mom and sister both raised their hands. You joined in. “Well, it looks like the majority wins, Hoon. I hope that works for you?”

“Sounds great,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the road.

Soon enough, the others in the back began chatting among themselves. Sunghoon turned to you and flashed a smile. “Hi,” he said it cutely, almost in a whisper so that only you could hear.”

“Hello,” you answered.

“How was Busan? Is it the breeze there that made you look even more stunning?”

You grinned at him. “You’re still as flirty as ever,” you whispered back to keep it between the two of you. “Busan was alright. How about you? How have you been?”

“I’m alright. It’s not like i almost died from how much I’ve missed you.”

"Good thing you managed to hold back your laughter, or else your family might have wondered about how loud you were. You discreetly pinched his arm.

"You’re so infuriating," you whispered.

"I missed you,” he replied, earning a sweet smile from you.

—

Sunghoon looked at you while drying the dish you just rinsed. "Are you tired?"

He smiled, and despite your initial hesitation, you found yourself replying, "You've asked that question seven thousand three hundred seventy-eight times. No, Hoon. I’m not tired," you laughed.

He playfully pinched your nose. "I'm just concerned since you just came back from a trip."

"Maybe I'm suffering from jet lag? Is that it?” you replied sarcastically while handing him the last plate.

He laughed, and the sound resonated with you. "How would I know? Maybe the time zone in Busan is different now," he quipped.

You watched as he finished drying the plate. "You might be the one who's tired. You drove, helped with the groceries, chopped ingredients while Mom and I were cooking, and now you're helping me wash the dishes."

They had snacked at a restaurant before stopping by the grocery store to pick up dinner items while still in his company.

After he finished, he looked at you with a serious expression on his handsome face.

“I’m just trying to find a reason to be close to you. I missed you, you know that already.” The excitement hit you unexpectedly, and even though you recognized how cheesy it sounded, you couldn’t help but grin. “You really have a way with those lines, don’t you?”

He made a pout. “Come on, Yoon Y/n, what am I supposed to do with you?” Sunghoon took your hand and dried it with the hand towel resting on the kitchen counter. He also put some sanitizer on both your hands. His touch was gentle, as if your hands were fragile.

He slowly lifted one of your hands to his lips and kissed the back of it. You could feel warmth spread to his face, but you realized you weren’t blushing. It felt like you were just staring at him, completely mesmerized.

With his other hand, he gently caressed your cheek. "Alright, I admit it. I missed you so much that I'm trying to make up for it now."

Your throat felt dry, and you swallowed hard. Without realizing it, you ran your tongue over your lower lip. You noticed that Sunghoon was watching your every move, and he let out a breath as he took in what you did Your knees felt weak when you saw the expression on his face; there seemed to be a fire in his eyes, and his jaw muscles tightened. He leaned closer to you, and your breathing quickened as the distance between you closed.

"God, Y/n," he murmured, almost breathlessly.

Your heart raced as you closed your eyes, waiting for what would happen next.

"Hey, Y/n—,”

You both jumped at the sound of Daehi's voice. You pulled back from Sunghoon, releasing his hand and turning to look at your sister, your eyes wide with surprise.

Daehi paused for a moment, observing you both. After a beat, she broke into an apologetic smile. "Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know."

You felt your face heat up, but you pretended to act casual. "D-do you need something?"

Your sister's teasing gaze lingered on you. "Mom’s looking for her tablet. Did she leave it with you?"

"Ah..." Goodness, your mind seemed to have tangled up, making it hard to think straight. "Yeah. It's in my handbag," you finally replied as your memory kicked in. "Hold on, I'll get it."

You didn’t even glance at Sunghoon before leaving; you just weren’t ready to meet his eyes yet. Shaking your head, you left the two of them behind and headed upstairs to your room, where your bag is located.

—

Sunghoon watched as you walked away to retrieve what your mom needed. He couldn't hide his happiness. The atmosphere in the Yoon household reminded him of his parents' home, and he found himself not wanting to return to his own apartment. He was aware that you could see how he acted like a clingy boyfriend who couldn’t step away from you. Everything he said was genuine, and if he could, he would stay by your side until next week.

He heard Daehi giggling softly and turned to look at her. She was watching him with a playful smile.

"You’re really smitten," she remarked, and she didn’t seem offended by what she had just seen.

He smiled back but didn’t argue with her.

"I can tell the feelings are mutual. I’m really happy for you both. The more I see you together, the more convinced I am that you’re a perfect match."

Sunghoon chuckled. "Thanks, Daehi."

"Anytime, brother," she replied with a laugh. She gave him a light hug and playfully nudged him. "Let’s go wait for Y/n in the living room. Mom is already there."

Sunghoon spent hours chatting with your family about various topics while gradually feeling sleepy.

"What I've learned from this business is that life is short. No one is invincible to death, and no one can escape when their time is up," Mr. Yoon said. "I've heard so many stories from those who lost loved ones, regretting not having told them how much they loved them before it was too late."

"I still remember my first client, a twenty-one-year-old man who was about to graduate as the top of his class in just a month," you shared. "His mother was devastated because he was their hope. They were struggling; his mother was a seamstress, and his father was a plumber. Companies were already lined up to hire him upon graduation. But suddenly, while walking on their street, he was hit by a car driven by a drunk driver, and that was it." You shrugged. "All of his family's dreams went up in smoke. I can never forget that."

A moment of silence fell over the group as everyone absorbed the gravity of what they had just heard.

"And we must also remember that we can't take any material possessions with us when we die," your mom chimed in. "That's why I always remind Y/n about this."

"Mom," you said with a calm tone, widening your eyes slightly, as if already guessing what she was about to say.

"She doesn’t need to keep studying, working, and building up wealth," your mom continued as though she hadn’t heard you. "She can’t take her diplomas or money to the grave. What he should really focus on is finding a life partner."

Sunghoon chuckled as you groaned, hiding your face. "Mom, please…"

"What? Am I wrong?" she protested. "Look at you, you treat dating like it’s just another adventure. It’s a good thing you met her, dear," she said, turning to Sunghoon. "At least I know there’s someone decent who’ll care for him if something happens to us."

"Mom, you and Dad are still young. You're not going anywhere," you objected. "And I’m only twenty-five—there’s no need to rush.”

Amused by how cute you looked, Sunghoon couldn’t resist pinching your cheek.

"When I was your age, I already had two kids," your mom remarked, glancing at your dad, who had his eyes closed. She sighed. "Alright, I’m heading upstairs. It looks like your dad’s already out for the night."

“I’m still awake,” your dad mumbled.

“Oh, come on, it’s time to get to bed,” your mom said as she stood to give Sunghoon a quick hug. “We’ll leave you two now, dear. Thanks for picking us up at the airport and spending the day with us. Make sure to come back more often, alright? Good night!” She turned to your dad. “Come on.”

Your dad gave Sunghoon a smile as they walked toward the stairs. “Leaving you in the care of my two girls, Sunghoon. I’m ready to call it a night.”

“No problem, sir,” he replied.

“I’ll head up, too—Yuno’s calling me,” Daehi added, giving you both a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll leave you two love birds alone. Enjoy!”

Now, it was just the two of you. Sunghoon looked at you. “Are you tired?”

“Do you want to head home?” you asked back.

Honestly, he’d prefer to just stay here if he could. But he shook his head. “If you’re not tired yet, I’d like to stay. Just kick me out when you’re ready to call it a night.”

You smiled. “Let’s hold off for a bit, then.”

“Alright, let’s talk.” He moved a bit closer, gently taking your hand.

“You know, I think I live by the same ‘life is short’ motto your parents mentioned. I get that life is brief, so I’d rather make the most of it. No sense in wasting it on worries.”

Absentmindedly, you played with your entwined hands. "For me, life is indeed short, but it’s also an adventure. It’s brief, so I’m reaching for all my dreams while I still can… while there’s still time."

He turned to face you. “Your father’s right. We should tell people how we feel while we still have time,” he said, making you pause, eyes widening. “So let me say this: I missed you, Y/n.”

Some emotion flickered across your face before you smiled. Was that disappointment? “I missed you, too.”

Sunghoon gazed at you, taking in your features. Your face looked radiant in any light, your smile bright, eyes sparkling. Your heart pounded in your chest, a fluttery feeling rising in your stomach.

He cleared his throat, as if he’d just decided something. “And because life is short,” he said in a low voice, “I’m going to take this chance while I still can.” He gently cupped your face and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

He had expected you to pull away, maybe even push him back, but your reaction surprised him. You kissed him back, your lips moving perfectly in sync with his.

Sunghoon’s knees nearly buckled, as if all his strength had drained away. He leaned in, deepening the kiss, and you allowed him without a second thought, matching his every move. He let out a soft, deep sound. You tasted faintly of the creamy coffee you'd had earlier… and something sweet he couldn’t quite place. Your lips were incredibly soft, and the smoothness of your cheek beneath his fingers only heightened the experience.

If only he had known it would feel like this, he would have done it on the very first day you both met.

Reluctantly, he broke the kiss and opened his eyes to look at you. Your eyes were still closed, lips slightly parted, as if you were waiting for more. And who was he to say no? He leaned in again, kissing you once more. It took him a moment longer before he finally managed to pull away.

He rested his forehead against yours. "I think it's time for me to go," he said, still catching his breath.

"Wait, what?" you replied, a bit stunned as you pulled back to look into his eyes. "I thought—"

"If I don't head out now, I might just do something impulsive," he said with a knowing smile.

Your eyes widened, and though he couldn’t see the blush, he felt the warmth radiate from your cheeks through his hands.

He pressed a firm kiss to your forehead before reluctantly stepping back and getting to his feet.

Day 19

"Tough luck, huh?” you said as the rain suddenly poured down while you both were on your way to Incheon.

The night before, you had walked Sunghoon to his car….

—

As he opened the door, he smiled at you. "I’ll see you tomorrow. Let’s go out."

You hesitated. "I’ve got a research paper I need to finish. It’s a special project my professor assigned as a substitute for the exams I missed last week."

He paused for a moment, thinking, then grinned. "Alright, how about we just go to a nearby beach? Maybe Eurwangni, near Incheon. You can work on your paper by the shore, and I’ll even help you out. Sound good?"

You smiled, endeared by his persistent charm.

"Alright, fine. See you then."

With a final kiss on your lips, he got into his car, leaving you with a smile as he drove off.

—

And now, here you were. The rain poured down like a storm, with strong winds accompanying it, prompting him to turn on the radio. It was then that you both found out a typhoon was on the way.

"Hmm, is this a sign that we should just go back and cuddle instead?" Sunghoon joked, grinning at you.

At the twinkle in your eyes, your cheeks flushed, and your imagination raced with various scenarios of Sunghoon lying in bed with you. You mentally scolded yourself; you had been like this since last night, with all sorts of thoughts suddenly surfacing—some of them rather steamy. It was partly his fault, too. That kiss he had given you before you parted ways had stirred up those thoughts. You had barely slept for two hours because of it.

Now, sitting beside him, your awareness of his presence felt intensified, as if the warmth radiating from your body was reaching out to him.

Your mouth felt dry, and your heart raced every time your eyes met his. You’d rather not think about the sensations stirring between your thighs.

This is getting out of hand.

"Y/n?" You felt Sunghoon’s gentle finger tapping your cheek. "Are you okay?"

You met his gaze while pretending not to notice the familiar sensations you were experiencing.

"Huh?" you replied, a little flustered. "Y-you were saying something?"

He furrowed his brow but didn’t comment on your odd behavior. "I was saying, do you want to work on your research at my place? It’s closer than heading back to your house. I think by this afternoon the storm will have passed, and the rain won’t be as heavy."

You couldn't answer right away. You knew that the guy lived alone, which meant you would have the place to yourselves. Plus, the weather was chilly because of the storm.

And there goes your naughty imagination once again...

You shut your eyes, trying to control your feelings.

"But if you're not comfortable, we can just go back to your place," Sunghoon said.

"W-we might get stranded on the road. Let’s just go to your pad. You can drop me off later when the rain eases up. I’ll just call my mom so she won't worry.

"Alright then,”

You nodded in response. And just within a few minutes later, you finally arrived at his place and started drying off. You had gotten a little wet from the rain when you exited the car.

“Here, wear this while we dry your clothes,” he said, handing you a towel along with a white t-shirt and boxer shorts. Which you gladly took from him.

“Thanks,” you replied. “Is it okay if I go to the bathroom first?”

“Of course, go ahead.”

The bathroom was clean and featured a modern, minimalist design that was just right for a young man like Sunghoon. You quickly dried off and changed into the clothes. The t-shirt was quite big, but the fabric felt comfortable against you.

When you stepped out, you saw Sunghoon in the kitchen, checking what was inside the refrigerator.

“Is there anything to eat in there?” you asked.

He turned to face you, and a look of appreciation lit up his eyes when he saw you. “Wow! That looks great on you,” he said, gesturing toward the clothes you were wearing.

Feeling a bit self-conscious, you glanced down. “The fabric feels really nice. Can I just keep this shirt?”

“Sure, go ahead,” he replied, then added quietly, “You've been taking my sanity since day one, anyway, so what's a shirt?”

You lifted your head, surprised by his comment. “What was that?”

He shook his head and quickly changed the topic. “I have ingredients for kimchi jjigae here, minus the tofu. Is that okay with you? Or would you rather order lunch instead?

“You can really cook?” you asked as you moved closer to look inside the refrigerator.

He took out a bag of kimchi and set it in a bowl. "Well, I haven’t experienced being confined to the hospital because of my cooking—at least, not yet." he said with a shrug and a smile. “I wanted to impress you and make something fancy, but this is all I have in my fridge.”

“Wow!” you laughed. “It’s fine, there’s always a next time. You can impress me another day.”

You were about to step beside him to help when you remembered your research project. “Oh, sorry. I’d love to help, but I just remembered my research.”

“It’s alright.” He gave you a light kiss on the top of your head and began slicing the green onions. “Go on, get to it. I’ll call you when the food’s ready.”

For the next few minutes, the two of you focused on your own tasks while the rain continued to pour outside. Every now and then, you’d steal a glance at him, amused by how absorbed he was in his cooking when a knock on the door interrupted both of you.

“I’ll get it,” Sunghoon said, quickly moving to open the door ahead of you.

“Hoonie, I really need your help!” came an overly dramatic painful in the ear voice.

“Yuri!” he said, surprised. “What’s wrong?”

You watched them curiously from a distance.

“There’s something making a creaking noise on my roof, and you’re the only person I feel close to here,” she said, grabbing onto his arm. She was wearing shorts so short they looked like underwear and a tight shirt that hugged her noticeably full chest. “Could you take a quick look? I’m worried it might blow away with this storm. Is that okay?”

Sunghoon looked back at you with a questioning expression.

“Oh, you have company,” she said, waving at you in an overly friendly manner. “Sorry about that! I’m Yuri, Hoonie’s neighbor and friend.”

"Hi, I’m Y/n," you replied with a polite smile.

"Is it okay if I borrow him for a bit? I really need his help," she said in that same high-pitched tone that was beginning to grate on your nerves. So, you just nodded quickly, "No problem." Then you looked over at Sunghoon and smiled. "I’ll keep an eye on your cooking too.”

“I’ll be right back!” Hoon had said before being pulled away by the woman, whose presence somehow left you feeling a bit annoyed.

It wasn’t that you had any issues with women who dress a bit provocatively—it’s their choice. But there was just something about this one that got under your skin. She seemed to have a flirtatious edge in everything she did and said. And yes, even the way she dressed felt like it was designed to grab Hoon’s attention.

You’re overthinking things, Y/n…

You told yourself.

Still, you couldn’t shake off the sense that, if Sunghoon were to start dating someone else after you’re done with this 25-day dating thing you had with him, Yuri would be the first to jump at the chance.

You pushed away the negative feelings and stood up from the couch to check on Hoon’s cooking. Everything was simmering nicely, with the heat on low to keep things from overcooking. You also noticed the rice cooker was on, and it looked like he had started preparing dessert—given the slices of fruits he had set aside along with a can of Sprite. Impressive for someone you considered your “pseudo” date; he wasn’t just all handsome but also knew his way around the kitchen. Whoever ends up marrying that guy will be damn heck of a lucky woman.

You went ahead and continued setting up lunch.

Just as you finished, the door opened, and Sunghoon stepped inside, shirtless and soaked from the rain.

What a combo…

You quickly ran to grab the towel he had used earlier and handed it to him. "What happened to you?" you asked, feeling your breath hitch as you took him in.

Your eyes couldn't help but wander over his bare form, dressed now in only his shorts. His body was lean and muscular, his skin glistening with rainwater. He looked hard everywhere—from the sharp lines of his jawline to his shoulders, pecs, arms, and abs…

Honestly, just looking at his torso made you feel full. Lunch suddenly felt optional.

You decided not to let your gaze drift any lower from his abs; no need to find anything else that might be, well… hard.

"Sorry, I took a while. Turns out there was more to fix on Yuri’s roof than I expected." Without seeming to notice your gaze, he handed you his wet shirt and began drying himself off. "Are you hungry?"

Then he looked at you, really looked at you, and there it was—the realization. His smile faded, and a spark ignited in his eyes as he noticed the effect he was having on you.

You swallowed unconsciously, feeling your breath hitch. He must’ve seen a different kind of hunger in your eyes—probably noticed that your hands were itching to touch his chest, his abs, his arms. Your heart pounded even harder as he took a slow, deliberate step toward you. Your knees practically turned to jelly under the weight of his intense, half-lidded gaze.

He raised a hand, lightly brushing his thumb across your cheek. But before you could even react, he brought his thumb to his lips, tasting whatever he had wiped away from your face.

"Condensed milk? What kind of dessert are you making?" His tone was casual, but his gaze burned as it lingered on you.

Jerk…

"Uh..." You swallowed, trying to keep your composure. "It’s… it’s nothing. You can try it later."

"Can’t wait," he murmured, though the way he looked at your lips suggested he had something else in mind he’d like to taste. "I’m gonna go shower again."

He left, and you finally let out a breath. It was only then you realized the wet shirt in your hands was now soaking your legs. With a sigh, you went to the laundry area to dry it up.

When Sunghoon returned, he mentioned feeling cold, which was obvious given he was wrapped up in a thick sweatshirt and jogging pants. Having a meal together and some hot soup seemed to help him feel a bit better, and he really enjoyed the hwachae dessert you’d made.

But soon enough, he was back to feeling unwell, lying on the couch next to you under a heavy blanket. You’d already given him some medicine for the flu.

Gently, you ran your fingers through his hair. "Why didn’t that Yuri just call a carpenter?" you muttered irritably. "Now look—you’re sick because of her."

"She couldn’t get a carpenter out there in this storm," he replied, voice slightly hoarse.

"That’s exactly my point! It’s storming, and she still had you go up on the roof! What if a lightning struck you?” you scolded.

Sunghoon opened his eyes, giving you a playful smile. “I don’t think it was her intention to get me hurt or sick. I think she just wanted to see me soaked, with my shirt sticking to me. I even took it off for her sake. Poor girl’s been trying so hard with her charms.”

You playfully tugged his hair. “You’re such a flirt. You knew exactly what she was doing, yet you still played along.”

He chuckled. “I’ve made it pretty clear to Yuri in plenty of ways that I’m not interested. She just doesn’t give up, so I let it go.” You felt a hint of satisfaction at that, though you tried not to show it. “But why not? She’s beautiful, has smooth skin, and, well… she’s got curves.”

He gave a subtle, meaningful smile. “I’m a lot more drawn to a certain sexy embalmer.”

Your cheeks warmed, leaving you momentarily speechless.

"Just let me know if you want to go home. I can still give you a ride," he murmured, his gaze soft on you.

You shook your head as you finished packing up your laptop. "No, Hoon. I don’t want you taking any risks.”

“No, really, I’ll drive you.”

“Should I call Sohyun? Maybe she can come over so you’re not alone.” You remembered Sohyun lived nearby.

He closed his eyes, looking a bit sleepy. “She’s out of town with her fellow teachers. She won’t be back until next week.”

“Oh, right,” you said. “I called home earlier, and Mom warned she’d shave my head if I left you here alone while you’re still unwell.”

“Really?” He let out a soft laugh. “Don’t tell me you two are already planning on trapping me into marriage?”

“Wow, the ego,” you chuckled as he shifted closer until his head rested in your lap. “I’d be up for it… just not when I’m this defenseless.” He took your hand and held it to his cheek. “Just wait until the medicine kicks in, then I’ll give you my full cooperation with the whole marriage plot.” He closed his eyes, finally settling in.

You chuckled softly. "You're really something."

For a few moments, you let yourself simply stare at his face as he lay there, eyes closed, resting his cheek in the warmth of your hand. A soft smile appeared on your lips. There was a sense of peace within you. You felt content, happy to be someone he needed—even if just for now, even if only for today. But that happiness was tinged with sadness, knowing you’d have to step back soon, and someone else might take your place, offering the comfort you could only give for a limited time.

That thought settled heavily in your heart, bringing a quiet ache you were already feeling now.

————

Day 20

Sunghoon woke up in the early hours feeling significantly better. And his mood lifted even more when he opened his eyes to find your face inches from his, both of you tucked together tightly on the sofa. The air was still chilly from the rain that drizzled outside, quieter now than the night before.

"Go back to sleep, it's only a little past two," you murmured, brushing a hand gently over his hair.

He furrowed his brow, hearing a slight edge in your tone, and his eyes searched yours more closely. "Have you been crying?" he asked, concerned.

You shook your head with a faint smile, but that didn’t ease the worry in his gaze. Something felt off. He started to rise, wanting to get a better look at you, but your hands held his face tenderly.

“Your fever’s gone. How are you feeling?” you asked, your voice soft.

He took a moment to assess himself. "Better. Thank you for staying with me."

You smiled before pulling his face down, kissing him. The moment his lips met yours, his body reacted instinctively. He could feel heat spreading through him. You deepened the kiss, your lips brushing softly against his, until he parted his mouth and your tongue slipped in, drawing a groan from him. Sparks seemed to ignite along every nerve.

You shifted to pull him closer, one of your hands roaming under his sweatshirt, skimming over his chest with warm, gentle strokes that had his breath hitching. He was overwhelmed by the softness of your touch.

He pulled back, panting, trying to regain control, but you just trailed your lips down his jaw and to his neck. "We need to stop," he whispered, though his hands betrayed him, tracing down your back and sides. You felt so warm beneath his touch, every inch of him aching to feel more.

"Sunghoon..." you murmured, lifting the edge of his sweatshirt. "Please."

He finally gave in to you and himself. He reached for your face and kissed you again on the lips. Every movement was heated, and it felt like there was something he wanted to say. He pulled away slightly from your lips. You groaned, protesting.

“Y/N, don’t do this, baby, please. I might do something we’ll both regret.” He nuzzled your neck and gave it a playful lick. You bit your lower lip, but a moan still escaped as you arched your back, giving him space for what he was doing.

Breathless, he lowered his head and traced your collarbone with his lips and tongue, moving back to your neck and jaw. You moaned aloud.

And shit, he was aroused like he had never felt before. And it had only been a few kisses that you shared in that moment.

“Y/N…” he whispered in your ear before giving it a small bite. “Tell me to stop. Please.” He needed you to refuse, to push him away and act uninterested. But your reaction was the opposite. You were responsive, so sweet, so soft and warm...

You reached for both sides of his head and gazed at him from beneath your heavy eyelids. “I won’t regret anything, I promise,” you murmured, caressing his lips. “Please, Sunghoon. I need this. I need you. Kiss me.”

The throaty quality in your voice did it. Or maybe it was your soft, fragrant body splayed over him. Or the hazy desire in your eyes. Or your scent. Maybe it was your zeal despite the innocence in your kisses. It could also be everything about you.

The rain continued to pour outside, but neither of you felt cold.

Sunghoon moved to stand up, quickly carrying you to his room. He kissed you on the lips and allowed the two of you to tumble onto the bed. You bumped into each other a bit and burst into laughter. But your smiles faded when you locked eyes. He caressed your cheek. “Are you sure you know what we’re going to do?”

You rolled your eyes and punched him in the arm. “What do you think I am, five?”

You laughed, but it sounded different—tense, full of desire that was desperately trying to escape you. “I’m just making sure. Are you really sure about this? You can still back out. Just say the word anytime.”

You looked at him, a soft, heart-wrenching emotion in your eyes. “I’m sure. Stop being annoying. I want this. I want to be yours tonight. I want to make love with you.”

It was like gasoline that ignited the fire within him even more. His knees shook, and his heart raced.

“Oh, God,” he said, almost moaning.

He was sure he did not do anything to deserve this.

—

A spark lit up in Sunghoon's eyes when he heard you. Then, he was on you—kissing your lips, your neck, your jaw; his hands roaming, pressing against your chest over the fabric of your shirt, gripping your waist and hips. Neither of you even remembered the storm raging outside. You were both too lost in the heat you were creating, the passion between the two of you.

He tugged at the bottom of your shirt. "Let's take this off. I want to see you." You sat up, helping him lift it off, along with your bra.

Lying back down, you bit your lip, but couldn't suppress the soft, inviting sound that slipped from your throat as he traced his hand down from your neck to your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your shorts. He slipped them off, gazing at you with a searing look. “Oh, God,” he murmured, breathless. “You’re beautiful.”

Your back arched instinctively under his heated gaze, an involuntary response. “Sunghoon…”

Feeling your urgency, he reached behind his neck, pulling his sweatshirt over his head.

He stood up, removing his joggers and boxers, then reached into a drawer, grabbing a foil packet and placing it on the side table

The bed creaked as he lay back down on his side, cupping your face to kiss you again. You let your hands drop to caress his chest and shoulders. He felt hot and firm everywhere, making every feminine part of you tremble in anticipation. He kneaded your breast, taking one peak into his mouth, and your body shuddered as you moaned his name. It felt like every inch of you was vibrating, heating up. You cradled his head to pull him closer as he teasingly slid his tongue over the skin of your breast before taking the other stiff peak into his mouth.

Good lord, you weren’t prepared for this.

It was too... divine.

You gasped when you felt his other hand exploring between your thighs, where you were wet and eager. You tried to squeeze your thighs together, but he gently pushed them apart. Then he was touching your most intimate area, sliding a finger along your drenched slit.

“Oh, my God, Sunghoon…” you called out, unable to explain what you were feeling. It was as if you were about to melt or explode.

“So sweet, so soft. I want to lick you all over,” he murmured in your ear. He kissed you passionately as his hand continued to move.

You tore your mouth away from his and moaned loudly as you felt his finger gently slipping inside you. Your body moved on its own, trembling with pleasure. “Oh fuck…”

Breathless, he lowered his head back to your chest. He captured one peak and lightly bit it, causing a low shout to escape your lips. Then, his hand moved faster, and every muscle in your body tensed at the delicious sensation.

Your eyes widened as you stared at Sunghoon’s face, watching him with a hot, serious expression. He looked so fucking hot. And this same gorgeous man was touching you intimately... and he seemed to be enjoying it.

“Fuck, Sunghoon!” you called out.

“Yes,” he whispered, his gaze locked onto you, his jaw clenched as he held back his own desires. You let go, your mouth opening in a silent gasp, but no sound came out. Your entire body trembled in fulfillment.

Before you could recover, Sunghoon kissed you hotly. His hands moved to put on what was needed to protect you both. He was determined to take you completely. He kissed you passionately while gently making his entrance, and the pleasure-pain brought tears to your eyes.

“You okay, baby?” he asked, stopping immediately. There was a sense of pride in his voice, knowing he was the first person you had completely surrendered to. “Can you handle more?”

“W-wait,” you replied, filled with emotion. This was the moment. You had fully given yourself to Sunghoon.

“You feel so good,” he said, showering your face and neck with kisses. “It’s never felt like this before.” His lips trailed down to your chest, kissing you before you could even respond. Your muscles twitched, and beads of sweat formed on your skin. Then, you felt him nibbling at your flesh.

You called his name in a breathy whisper.

He groaned and took one of your stiff peaks into his warm mouth. A long moan escaped you as your body arched, matching the way your internal muscles squeezed around him. Sunghoon let out a loud groan. “Shit, Y/n! Don’t! You’re driving me crazy,” he exclaimed, feeling himself stiffen against you, struggling to maintain control.

“Sunghoon,” you called out, unsure of what to say. “Just get on with it!”

Despite the slick sweat and the effort it took to move, he chuckled. “So bossy,” he teased in a raspy voice. You smiled, but it quickly vanished as he moved slowly inside you, showering your chest with kisses while whispering your name.

Breathless, you tightened your legs around his waist. You shuddered with each movement he made, letting out sounds you would usually find embarrassing, but right now, you didn’t care. Sunghoon let out a low, rough breath, and you thought the sound was incredibly sexy. Desperately, you called his name, almost begging him to give you what you needed—and he did.

Your hands clung tightly to his shoulders, your muscles tensing as you finally reached your peak. Colors exploded behind your closed eyelids, warmth spreading through every fiber of your being. He kept moving for a few more moments, then reached his own climax. Catching your breath and covered in sweat, you slowly returned to reality.

When you opened your eyes, you were greeted by Sunghoon’s smiling face. “Ah, Y/n. You’re going to be the death of me.”

“That was amazing,” you murmured with a smile.

Something about your words must have ignited something in him because you saw the fire in his eyes reignite. Your eyes widened as you felt him begin to harden again inside you.

“Fuck, Y/n…” he whispered, before covering your mouth with his in a deep kiss, not giving you a chance to say anything else.

—

It was nearly noon when Sunghoon woke up, hours later than usual. The first thing he did was reach over, searching for you beside him. But when his hand touched only mattress and blankets, his eyes flew open. You were nowhere to be found.

Panic rising, he got up quickly and checked the bathroom. Empty.

He stepped out of the room. “Y/n?” he called, but there was no sign of you in the kitchen or the living room. Even your bag and laptop was gone. Grabbing his phone, he dialed your number, but no one answered.

It was Sunday—maybe you were attending church and had your phone on silent, which would explain why you hadn’t noticed his calls. With a sigh, he set his phone aside and went back to the bedroom. You’d probably left early to ease your parents’ concerns. He decided he’d just drop by your house later to invite you to dinner. For now, he needed to focus on his work, confident that he’d see you soon. Just a little more patience.

All day, Sunghoon kept trying to reach you with calls and texts, but there was still no answer. He thought maybe it was a network issue or perhaps your phone had run out of battery.

Either way, he reassured himself he’d see you soon.

With anticipation, he showered, dressed carefully, and bought a bouquet of roses matching the color of the dress you wore when you first met, along with your favorite chocolates. While in traffic, he called a nice restaurant to reserve a table for two.

Tonight, he was going to ask you to date him exclusively, officially. He figured you might be taken aback, but he’d explain that he didn’t want any time limits on being with you anymore. Excitement filled him—until it quickly turned to worry when he arrived at your house, and you weren’t there. Your mom told him you’d gone out of town but didn’t say where.

Sunghoon tried to stay calm, reasoning that you’d return soon. You had school, and it was too early for you to miss more days, especially since you’d just come back from Busan.

Yet a deep, sudden fear settled inside him.

———

Day 24

“Something othering you?” Sohyun called out as she approached Sunghoon from behind.

Sunghoon saved his work and turned to look at his twin.

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

“You’re being way too serious over there.” She came closer to check out the drawing of a woman for his current erotica book project. “That’s cute! What’s the title?”

“The Ethical Manwhore. It’s your typical plot— the main character is a player who meets a naive girl and falls in love with her.”

Sohyun’s eyes lit up. “That actually sounds interesting since he’s described as ethical—meaning he has some standards. Let me know when it’s out; I want to buy a copy.”

In a way, his sister's banters lightened the weight he was feeling.

“I brought you a little something; you and Y/n can share it.” And just like that, his small joy vanished into thin air.

“T-thanks,” Sunghoon replied with a smile. But if his sister weren’t so perceptive, she wouldn’t have noticed that his smile was forced. They were too close, i mean—they’re practically twins, for her to miss that.

“You look troubled. Is something wrong?” He turned to face his computer, trying to avoid her gaze.

“Just stressed about work.”

She didn’t respond, and he heard her walk over to the sofa, her favorite spot facing him.

“How’s Y/n?”

There it was—the question he had been dreading to answer. He shrugged.

“Did something happen?”

He hesitated before answering, “I don’t know,” he cleared his throat before he continued, “I haven’t seen her in four days. She might have gone out of town.”

“Really?” Sohyun went silent. When he glanced over her, she was already busy with her phone. With a sigh, he returned to his work from the previous days; that was all his life revolved around—his work and trying to contact you. He had nearly given up on the latter yesterday because he felt like a fool.

He had visited the Yoon house several times but never caught you at home. According to your mom, you were busy with a group project, which is why you were always away. He couldn’t even count how many texts he had sent you or how many times he called. He knew you were a free spirit and loved to be spontaneous, traveling everywhere, but if he meant something to you, couldn’t you at least send a reply?

Sunghoon was feeling frustrated, sad, and worried. He was missing you badly.

“Oh, wait. Seems like she’s in Jeju,” Sohyun suddenly said, interrupting his thoughts. “Someone tagged her on IG.” She was about to show him the phone when she quickly pulled it away. “Oh, wait—never mind. Must’ve overlooked it.”

His brow furrowed. “What was that? Let me see.”

“Forget it,” his sister said, keeping the phone out of reach.

“Come on, Sohyun! I just want to see.” He reached for her hand, but she dodged him and stood up from the sofa.

“Forget it, Sunghoon!”

“Sohyun, please just let me see,” he urged. He didn’t have an Instagram account, so he couldn’t check it himself.

“Sunghoon, stop it! It’s not for you to look at.” Her tone reminded him of their childhood when their parents would cover their eyes during romantic scenes in movies. Especially when it involved kissing. This only made him more curious. “Why not? What is it?” They engaged in a playful tug-of-war over the phone.

But since he was taller and stronger, he managed to overpower her. He shot her a glare and glanced at the screen, where he saw a picture of you in a black bikini top and denim shorts, holding a surfboard, with a picturesque backdrop of sand, sea, and sky… and Jiwon beside you with his arm wrapped around your shoulder.

It has as caption that says,

Learning surfing is way more fun when your instructor is this gorgeous. 😩

And below it was a mention,

my @yo.on_y/n 💕

Which the post received at least a thousand likes and numerous teasing comments. He checked the date of the post—it was from Sunday, the day he had started losing contact with you.

Frustrated, he handed the phone back to his sister.

“I told you not to look at it,” she said.

Without responding, he left her on the sofa and turned his attention back to his computer.

“Your twenty-five days together are over, right?” she said after a moment. “So, you’re probably not jealous that she’s with someone else, right?”

Sunghoon closed his eyes to keep himself from snapping at his sister. He was starting to take back what he said about her being perceptive when it came to him; clearly, that wasn’t true.

“Jiwon’s fine, though. I’ve met him, actually. He’s mature, not commitment-phonic, and he’s liked Y/n for a long time—since high school—.”

“Yeah, I’m thrilled for them. Excuse me, but I have a work to finish.” He put his earbuds in and turned up a loud song to drown out anything else his sister might say.

“There’s some leftover ramen in the fridge. Just heat it up if you’re hungry,” he added.

—

Sunghoon stood up from the sofa when the door of your house opened, and you stepped inside. He’d been coming by every afternoon for days, waiting for a chance to see you, and finally, he’d caught you.

You were dressed in a plain t-shirt, denim shorts, sneakers, and carried a large backpack. The surprise was clear on your face as you saw him. “Oh, hi,” you greeted him.

“The tan suits you,” he managed to say. “How was Jeju?”

“It was okay.” You set your bag down on the coffee table, keeping your eyes lowered. He could almost see you struggling to find the right words.

He wanted to confront you. Was group project for now a code for surfing in Jeju with a guy that’s pursuing you? or worse, dating you? how the fuck would he know?

“Can we talk?” he asked.

You looked at him for a moment.

“Let’s go to the café nearby,” you finally agreed. “I’ll just tell Mom.”

You went to the kitchen, where your mother was preparing a snack for you. Sunghoon took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He couldn’t explain his feelings—nervous and tense, as if something was squeezing his chest and throat, making it hard to breathe. He was beyond anxious.

Soon, you returned without changing or even freshening up.

“Let’s go,” you said, avoiding his gaze.

The short drive to the café was silent. You only spoke once you were seated with your drinks, exchanging an awkward greeting. You mentioned that you had returned from Jeju since Monday and had just come from a groupmate’s house to work on a project.

He only gave a slight nod in response.

It felt as though you two had turned back into strangers, and for Sunghoon, it was like a knife piercing his heart.

“S-so,” you eventually spoke up, breaking the awkward silence, “was there something we needed to talk about?”

Something burst within him, and he couldn’t hold back the bitterness any longer. “Well, I thought you’d at least have the decency to break things off with me properly,” he said.

You flinched as if he’d struck you, then gave him a bitter smile. “Do we really need an official ending? Isn’t it automatic after the twenty-five days are up?”

“It’s not twenty-five days yet, Y/n. Do you need a calendar? We’re only on Day 24.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Oh, so we’re supposed to break up tomorrow? Sorry, I guess I lost track on my counting.”

Sunghoon felt his frustration rise at your tone. Why were you being sarcastic? Why did it feel like you were the one who’s upset here?

“You left me after Day 20. You owe me four more days. You need to date me for those four days.” He knew he sounded childish, but he didn’t know how else to bridge the gap between you two. You might think he’d lost his mind by now, but he didn’t care.

“What?” you laughed, clearly confused. “Sunghoon, those are just the technicalities. We were going to break up anyway; that was already decided. What difference does it make if it’s Day 20 or Day 2? We would still end up breaking up.” You suddenly stood up, and he instinctively grabbed your arm before you could leave.

“No, Y/n, we can’t just end it like this.”

“What’s wrong with you?” you snapped, then, realizing you were in public, you lowered your voice. “Fine. You want a proper breakup? Here it is—I’m officially breaking up with you, Park Sunghoon. Goodbye.” You yanked your arm from his grip and walked out without a backward glance. He was stunned as he watched you leave the café. He frustratedly slammed his clenched fist onto the table.

He knew he’d said something wrong. He was sure of it….

a/n: continuation is posted on my timeline 🫶🏻

[novaursa]

A Flame All Her Own

- Summary: Caraxes always knows how to snatch all your attention for himself. Which leaves Daemon jealous of his own dragon. 

- Pairing: sister!reader/Daemon Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Next part: the bold and the beautiful

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The morning air is thick with the salt of the Narrow Sea as you stand by the cliff edge, Caraxes sprawled before you, his great, sinuous body stretched luxuriously along the rocks. His scales glisten, the deep crimson reflecting in the morning sun as his slitted eyes, always watchful, follow your every movement. The dragon’s head rests lazily beside you, large enough that one of his breaths could likely knock you off your feet, yet gentle as he huffs softly, nuzzling your hand as you scratch just beneath his horned jaw.

“You’re spoiling him,” comes Daemon’s voice from behind, laced with a tone that’s both disapproving and… sulking? You smirk without turning around, knowing full well what that look on his face must be: arms crossed, brow slightly furrowed, mouth drawn into that familiar pout that’s often mistaken for mere arrogance but, today, has a hint of jealousy.

“Am I?” you respond, your voice light with feigned innocence as you continue to scratch Caraxes. The dragon rumbles in pleasure, tilting his head like a hound angling for more affection. You can feel Daemon’s eyes drilling into your back, but you don’t let up, laughing softly as Caraxes leans closer, nearly knocking you sideways in his enthusiasm.

“Yes, you are,” Daemon steps closer, his dark cloak billowing slightly as he stands beside you, looking down at his dragon with mild disdain. “He’ll be insufferable now, demanding pets and scratches like some slobbering mutt.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” you tease, glancing at Daemon. “You’re as spoiled as Caraxes is.”

Daemon’s eyes narrow at the comparison, though a glimmer of amusement tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Spoiled, am I?”

Caraxes’s head shifts, his large, amber eyes drifting from you to his rider as if sensing Daemon’s displeasure. He rumbles again, a deep sound that vibrates the rock beneath your feet, and Daemon gives his dragon a flat look.

“Not you too, you great overgrown lizard,” Daemon mutters. “I am your rider, remember? Mine, not hers.”

Caraxes blinks slowly, looking almost unimpressed. You swear, for a brief moment, that the dragon’s gaze shifts back to you with what could only be called affection. It’s as if he’s saying, “Oh, but she’s my favorite.” You can’t help but laugh at Daemon’s expression.

“I think he’s simply decided that I give better scratches,” you say, grinning.

Daemon arches a brow, eyes glinting with a mixture of challenge and feigned affront. “Is that so?” He steps closer, nudging you out of the way so he can place a hand on Caraxes’s scales, patting his dragon’s neck with exaggerated enthusiasm. “You like me, don’t you, boy?” he asks, scratching roughly—too roughly, if Caraxes’s sudden flick of his tail and indignant huff are anything to go by.

“See?” you laugh, folding your arms as you watch with a smirk. “Gentleness, Daemon. Perhaps Caraxes prefers a softer touch.”

Daemon looks at you with a pointed glare. “Are you suggesting I’m not gentle?”

“Oh, Daemon, of course not,” you reply, lips twitching as you fight a smile. “You’re a Targaryen knight in shining armor.”

“Knight, indeed,” Daemon snorts, but there’s a glimmer of mirth in his eyes as he takes your bait. He shifts closer, one arm snaking around your waist, pulling you to him with a quick, possessive motion that sends a thrill down your spine. “Tell me, then. Should I be jealous of my own dragon? Or are you so starved for attention that you’ll take affection where you can get it?”

His words are laced with mock offense, but his hand holds you firmly, his thumb brushing against your waist in a way that belies his teasing tone.

“Jealous?” You raise a brow, feigning surprise. “Of Caraxes?”

He leans closer, voice dropping to a murmur. “Perhaps I ought to start breathing fire to gain your favor, then.”

You tilt your head, amused by the thought. “Imagine how well that would go at court,” you muse. “The Rogue Prince, reduced to petty flames for his sister’s affection.”

Daemon chuckles, the sound warm and rumbling, yet his hand on your waist tightens. “I’d reduce more than just my pride to flames if it meant keeping your attention on me.”

Caraxes huffs suddenly, a low rumble that sounds suspiciously like laughter, if a dragon could laugh. He lowers his head to nose at your shoulder, nudging Daemon’s hand away in the process as if to say, “She’s mine, actually.” You burst out laughing, leaning into Caraxes’s scaled cheek, feeling the warmth radiate from his skin.

“Seems like he’s made his choice,” you say with a sly smile, watching Daemon’s face flicker between exasperation and humor.

“Oh, has he?” Daemon drawls, arching a brow as he watches you and Caraxes, clearly unimpressed. “Well, perhaps I should be jealous, then. I might have to fight him for your favor.”

You laugh, raising a hand to smooth over Daemon’s arm. “Poor Daemon,” you tease, your tone laced with affection. “Unseated by your own dragon.”

He rolls his eyes, though the warmth in his gaze softens his expression. “If Caraxes intends to keep you for himself, he should remember who his true rider is.”

Caraxes turns his head slightly, eyeing Daemon with a look that, impossibly, feels smug. You laugh again, patting the dragon’s neck in reassurance. “Don’t worry, Caraxes. There’s room enough for both of you.”

Daemon grunts, slipping an arm around your shoulders, drawing you closer as he casts a sidelong glance at Caraxes. “You���re lucky I tolerate you, you red menace,” he mutters, though the fondness in his voice is unmistakable.

The dragon lets out a huff, almost as if he’s rolling his eyes, and settles his head back down, clearly satisfied with his small victory. And as you lean into Daemon’s side, his arm wrapped securely around you, you catch the slight smile on his lips. For all his talk, the Rogue Prince is more than happy to share your affections—even if it means indulging in a rivalry with his own dragon.

[ichorai]

i'm not made by design ; part two ; jaime lannister.

part one.

pairing ; jaime lannister x stark!reader (she/her pronouns)

synopsis ; wolves and lions tend not to be friends, much less lovers.

words ; 9.0k

themes ; heavy angst, action, fluff, (actual) enemies to lovers, slowburn

warnings / includes ; war/murder/injury, this part covers a few events from a feast for crows, politicking, mentions of incest/rape, foul language, animal cruelty, a lot of generally terrible things going on but what else can you expect from asoiaf, lots of dreams, jaime is a morally grey delight in this part yes, they are being HAUNTED by each other!

a/n ; wow, it's been a long time coming! ok i know this part is quite short and doesn't yet get to where you guys probably want to be, but tumblr has a max limit of 1k text blocks per post now (boo everyone throw tomatoes) so i'll be posting the rest of the story in smaller chunks! expect the third part to be coming soon, and i promise part three will start off exactly where you guys want it to be :) also if any of you can spot any sort of parallels in this part i will kiss you on the Mouth .

main masterlist. read on ao3!

The wintry breeze tousled the two young Stark girls’ hair, whispering frost into their ears. The horse the two were riding whickered as it galloped through the snow. Lyanna was exclaiming something, something lost to the wind, and you only held all the tighter to her from behind. 

“Lyanna, I want to get off!” you yelled, tugging at the furs draped over her. “Lyanna, let me off!”

Your older sister laughed some more. Not wickedly, but more out of fond amusement. She slowed the horse down to a languid canter, then to a trot, and led the stallion towards the shade of a tree. There was snow blanketing the branches and the grass which crunched beneath her weight as she swung down. She looked up at you with her large grey eyes, crinkled at the corners as she grinned boyishly. “Were you frightened?” 

You held your arms out for your sister to help you down. Only at eight years of age, you were still of short stature, and Lyanna had picked a rather tall horse. She had always been a voracious rider, even more so than all your brothers.

“I wasn’t frightened,” you indignantly replied as she wrapped her arms about your waist and pulled you down onto the ground. 

“Right.” She began to stroke the stallion’s mane, his hooves pawing at the snow. “Do you not trust me, then? Did you think I would ride us right off the edge of a cliff?”

“No,” you replied, scuffing your boots against the snow. “I don’t like riding from behind. I can’t see anything from back there.”

There was a moment of silence before Lyanna reached over to ruffle your hair—an action that both she and Benjen often did. Eddard and Brandon often spared you from such irritations, but being the youngest of the family, you were always doted on and hovered over and babied.

“I don’t trust you riding a horse as big as this, so I suppose we can walk back. It’s not too far.”

“Why can’t I just sit in front of you?”

Your sister stuck her tongue out at you. “We’ve got something in common, you know. What makes you think I like sitting behind?” When you glowered at her, she went on, “Let’s get a move on. Ned will complain that I’m stealing you away—especially since he’s just returned. He misses you. Your letters grow briefer and briefer, he tells me.”

You were none too happy about trudging through the snow, but you voiced no complaint and walked alongside your sister, who tugged at the horse’s reins to follow along. 

“He’s always going back and forth,” you said, a small frown marring your features. “I wish he would just stay home. The Eyrie couldn’t possibly compare to Winterfell.”

“You know him.” Lyanna’s dark hair was speckled with snowflakes as she turned to you. “Studious and dutiful as ever.” Her voice went an octave deeper and she pulled a mockingly somber expression in a startling resemblance to Ned. You let out a small laugh at that.

“Last time he visited, you were betrothed,” you said, your voice shrinking to a whisper.

The amusement died away from her eyes, turning stony. “Yes. Though I doubt it will be a fruitful union.”

There were a few more seconds of silence as you considered her words, not entirely sure why she would think so. Robert was loud and robust the few times you’ve met him, but you knew little else of Ned’s friend. 

“Do you think he’ll bring a wedding proposal for me this time?”

Lyanna’s features contorted with surprise. “Why? Do you want to be married?”

Your cheeks flushed with heat, despite the frost settling over your skin. “Well—if Father says I have to, then I will.”

“I didn’t ask about Father,” replied Lyanna. It was hard for her to believe that you were only eight sometimes. You always tried to act older than you actually were. “I asked about you.”

Winterfell grew larger and larger as the two of you drew nearer to the castle gates. Home.

“I don’t think I’d mind getting married,” you told your sister, eyes downcast and brows pulled together in thought. “As long as I get to stay in Winterfell. I never want to leave.”

Lyanna smiled, all teeth and cheek. “Wouldn’t that be a dream?” she sighed. 

The rest of the short journey was made in relative silence, and you left your sister and the tall stallion by the stables (not without her ruffling your hair one last time), and you dashed up to the castle chambers where you knew Ned would be.

He carried no proposals, only a few books he thought you would enjoy and a warm hug.

You awoke with a startled gasp, kicking at the thin blanket that laid over your form. It took you several moments to realize where you were. A boat. Rocking steadily, back and forth and back and forth. You rubbed at your sleepy eyes whilst drawing your knees up to your chest, still blinking away remnants of your dream.

Lyanna. Ned. Still young, still practically children. 

One of the tongueless little birds stood in the doorway. It was an ominous sight. Her eyes were large and unblinking, glinting like glass balls within her small head. In her hands was a wooden bowl, full of what looked to be a poultice of sorts. She drew nearer, and the heavy scent of honey and flowers reached your nose. 

“What is it?” you asked the child, a coil of pity winding in the pit of your stomach. You knew they couldn’t respond—Varys had stolen not only their youth, but their voices, too. “Is this food?”

A foreign delicacy of sorts, maybe? An Essosi dessert you weren’t familiar with, perhaps. It looked quite unappetizing, though you knew you had no room to complain.

The girl shook her head, then pointed to your hair, which was pulled back into a braid. You understood from just that, and nodded your thanks while accepting the bowl from her. This was hair dye, made from a blend of flowers and other substances you couldn’t name. You supposed it was a necessary precaution—you had an unmistakable Northern look to you, and would surely stick out like a sore thumb here down South. Dyeing your hair and cutting it short would help to somewhat conceal your identity. Short enough, and perhaps you could even be mistaken for a man, at least at a first quick glance. 

The little girl left a dagger and a small, rusty, hand-held mirror by your legs and disappeared from your cabin in complete silence, as if she was never there in the first place. They were like ghosts, this crew of children. Everything was so quiet all the time, with only your thoughts and the ocean waves to accompany you.

You unbraided your hair and shook it loose. Hair carried memories. Memories of Catelyn showing you how hair was done in the Riverlands, memories of Benjen tugging at your hair to tease you, memories of Jaime commenting on how your hair was a lovely shade of animal waste. That had been grumpily remarked earlier on, when you and Brienne were escorting him to King’s Landing. Before Locke and Roose Bolton and… Robb. 

You propped up the rust-spotted mirror against the wall and scooped up the dagger. The reflection that met you was only barely recognizable. You looked so tired. With a resigned sigh, you began to slice off your hair with the sharp blade. Handfuls fell to the ground. You sliced and sliced until your head felt light and your neck was bare. It’s never been this short before. If Benjen were here, you knew he would surely laugh at you. Brandon would comment that he never knew he had another brother. 

Yes, you thought. I can surely pass as a man if I wanted to. Though you certainly shared many features with your sister, you hadn’t the wild beauty Lyanna had. No, you were far plainer than her, colder and sharper than she was. Nothing worthy to note—though your father, quiet as a man he was, once told you that you looked the most like your mother out of all your siblings. That had made you feel more beautiful than anything. 

Plain was good, though. Plain meant no eyes would be drawn to you. 

You weren’t too sure what color your hair would turn with this dye. You lathered the thick paste over your newly-cut strands, massaging it into your scalp. Your nose twitched from the strong odor—not entirely unpleasant, but also wasn’t a delight breathing in.

As you rinsed your hands of the dye, your skin was left with a slight copperish stain. You stared at the color with sad eyes—would your hair turn out red like Cat’s? Like all your nephews and Sansa?

And, like a fool, you wondered if Jaime would like short, red hair. He wouldn’t care much, you found yourself thinking, perhaps wishfully so. Did you want him to care?

Two children brought you food—rations of dried meat and crusty bread. You wolfed half of it down and handed them the other half. Though they couldn’t speak, the children made for pleasant company. Or perhaps you were just lonely. It was hard to tell.

After eating, you rinsed out the hair dye and wrung the water out with a cloth over the edge of the ship. The cloth came away stained bright red. You retreated back into the cabin to look at the mirror. 

It was a shock to see your hair resemble Catelyn’s. It was darker than hers had been, but the auburn, orange-red sheen to your head was unmistakable. You looked like a Tully! You nearly laughed with amazement, but any sort of joy was short-lived, and you lapsed into more silence.

You laid on the rickety bed, thinking of Winterfell and your now-scattered family. Robb and Ned and Cat and the younglings Bran and Rickon might have been taken from you, but… you still had family left. Sansa and Arya could very well be scattered somewhere in the Seven Kingdoms, alive and breathing. Jon, at the Wall, as well. At least, you hoped. It’d been so long since your time sending letters to the young boy. Was he hurt that you stopped sending them so suddenly?

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, and you drew your knees to your chest, willing yourself into a restless slumber.

Days came and went. The little children were growing more agitated, fluttering about the boat with wide eyes and quick feet. They tossed nets overboard into the water—masquerading the boat as a fishing vessel, you assumed. There were many ships out and about Blackwater Bay. Some carried banners of houses loyal to the crown, and others were bannerless. Pirates or fishermen, you couldn’t tell. 

So far, all other ships have passed by quietly. But the risk grew with each day. You knew Tywin and Cersei would likely order more fleets to be sent after you, Sansa, and Tyrion. The chances of you being found on water would grow each day—and you couldn’t risk becoming a prisoner again. Jaime wouldn’t be able to help you escape a second time, not with Cersei around.

At least on foot… you had somewhere to run. Being on sea left you nothing but water for miles on end. 

And so you told the silent children to let you off at the nearest fishing port. Some part of you wondered if they would object, but they stared at you with round, moon eyes and nodded. You didn’t know whether to thank or damn Varys. 

The ship docked in the dead of night, half a mile from Duskendale. One of the little children handed you a map and tapped at where they’d leave you. A pouch full of food rations, more dye, and other necessities was left on your cot. You thanked the child endlessly, who seemed not to hear your gratitude and scuttled away. You grabbed the pouch, the dagger, the bow and quiver full of arrows Varys had presumably left you, and slipped into a large cloak. 

Land felt like it was lurching beneath your feet once you stepped onto the pier. Your body was used to the swaying motions of the waters, and would take some time to adjust. You gingerly shook one of your booted feet. The children watched you disembark on wobbly legs, but you dared not wave back at them. 

Despite it being nighttime, the docks were busier than ever. Fishermen and merchants littered all over the shore, some selling products and entertainment and others working hard to gather more to sell before day broke. You steeled yourself with a deep breath, and made your way through the busy crowd. 

You began trekking your way North towards the Eyrie, the hood of your cloak pulled over your short, red hair.

It took nearly three weeks for you to reach the Crossroads. Nightfall was nearing when you strode in front of the inn, the sky a mirage of bleeding reds from the setting sun and moody greys from the rainclouds. The air smelled of mud and rusted metal. It was certainly no grand castle, but a modest bed was better than sleeping on the cold dirt you’ve been curled up on the past several days. There was a young girl and a dark-haired boy by the front that looked somewhat like your memory of Robert Baratheon twenty-some years ago. At first, the boy denied your request for shelter, but reluctantly clammed up once you offered him some gold, worth more than it ever could in times of war. The two let you pass with not a word more.

Greeting you inside was a ruckus of loud children. Parentless, you realized, as there were none to be seen within the inn’s walls. An inn full of orphans, you thought with a touch of sadness. In that regard you supposed you shared a similarity with all of them. 

Just as you slipped onto one of the creaking wooden stools to momentarily rest your weary feet, you overheard a voice. A familiar voice. Low and raspy and unmistakably—

Brienne, you thought, wide-eyed. But she wasn’t alone. A young boy was by her side, yes, that was Podrick, and an older man—a knight, by the looks of his armor, and an even older septon with grey hair and a hunched back. What a queer party Brienne was leading. She was supping on porridge and salted cod. 

The impulsive part of you wanted to call out for her and rush to her side, ask if she had found any sign of Sansa, or if she had made any progress on her quest. Instead, you drew in a deep breath, and stood from your stool to take a seat across from Podrick whilst Brienne was busy speaking to the knight. The young squire made a half-gasping, half-choking noise once his eyes raised from the cup he was draining to your cold eyes, recognizing you immediately. You discreetly lifted a finger to your lips to silence him. His eyes went moon-round and he nodded once. 

Brienne ignored the knight’s constant jabbering about lips and marriage and castles full of children, and turned to look at her squire in mild concern of him choking on a fish bone. But her eyes landed on you, and her mouth dropped open.

She was very near to bowing her head and saying, “My lady.” But she didn’t, knowing it would draw far too much attention, and stared at you with utter confusion plain over her features.

“Hello,” you said to her. “It has been a while, Brienne.”

“Do you know each other?” the knight bumped in. He spooned some porridge into his mouth.

“Brienne and I were childhood friends on Tarth,” you lied. “I was the son of a cook. A nobody in truth, but Brienne was kind enough to befriend me.”

Brienne was no good at lying, you knew this, but she nodded along to your story. 

The knight looked you over. “A little runt boy and a grand beast of a girl. The two of you must have been a sight.”

You could only offer him half a shrug at that.

“What brings you here?” Brienne carefully asked you. 

“Someone helped me leave,” you responded with equal caution. Avoiding the knight’s curious eyes, you leaned closer to Brienne. “Is there a place for us to speak with fewer naked children milling about?”

Being around Varys’ little birds for long enough taught you that children were oft smarter than they looked. Somewhere to your right, you saw one of the little orphan boys stick a nut inside his nostril. 

Brienne nodded and led you just outside, away from prying ears and eyes. There, you told her everything. From Tyrion’s trial, to Oberyn’s death, to Cersei demanding you to be locked up or killed (whichever suited her taste that day), to Jaime helping you escape, to the birds on the boat, to your journey here. In turn, Brienne told you of her lengthy journey and what she had found on the way. Mostly nothing, lots of war and skirmishes. Sandor Clegane was dead, but Arya had been with him soon before that… not Sansa. The thought of Arya somewhere out there alive, sparked dangerous hope within your chest.

“Varys says Sansa is in the Eyrie, masquerading as Baelish’s bastard daughter.” The thought revolted you. “But I do wonder if the Eyrie is a trap of sorts. I cannot trust Varys. He certainly is no friend of the Lannisters, but neither is he their enemy. For all I know, he may be conspiring with dragons and grumpkins.”

“Sansa would be safe with her Aunt Lysa there, right?” Brienne asked, though even she sounded doubtful of her own question.

“I can’t quite say,” you said, brows furrowed. “Lysa is an unpredictable woman. Frightened and secluded is never a good combination of characteristics. Even so, I doubt Sansa would make her way home up North without being intercepted. It wouldn’t hurt to check the Vale first.”

Brienne nodded solemnly. “We can make our way first thing in the morning. For now, you must rest, my lady. You must be exhausted.”

The sudden reminder of the limitations of your body made your knees wobble. The past few days had you running on little else than adrenaline, fear, and meager portions of salted foods. 

“I missed you, Brienne,” you whispered, looking up at her. “I fear trusted friends are few and far in between in these times.” Not that you ever had many friends to begin with. Everyone had always been so afraid of you—something Brienne could relate to.

 The term friend dusted pink over Brienne’s large, crooked nose and broad, freckled cheekbones. She was certainly not pretty, not by a long shot, but that was of no matter to you. She was the most beautiful blessing you could have possibly encountered—your chances of survival and finding Sansa were far better with Brienne by your side.

“I missed you, as well,” Brienne managed to choke out after many moments of stunned silence. She had never been good with niceties. “Podrick has been company enough, but the boy is young and easily frightened.”

“I’m frightened, too,” you admitted. “One would be a fool not to be, with enemies at every turn. Young, however, is a trait I have long outgrown.”

Brienne looked up at the night sky. “Youth was a curse on me. I always looked older than I was.”

“Me, as well,” you mused with a thoughtful hum. Memories of the lords and ladies living at Winterfell’s court whispering behind your back… sending you strange looks of distant pity… veering far out of your way in fear of you… it weighed heavy on you, especially in your younger years. “My anger has aged me a decade, I think.”

Before Brienne could respond, there came a commotion of noise. Men on horses, their hooves schlocking through mud and puddles. Instinctively, you drew the cowl of your hood up over your head. They are armed, these men, you thought with grim unease. And there were many of them, just above half a dozen. Far too many for you and Brienne to take alone.

Brienne drew in a sharp breath at the sight of them and unsheathed Oathkeeper. She stepped in front of you before you could even begin to react. The biggest man of the party was so hefty that his beaten horse buckled and shook beneath the sheer force of his weight. His pale face was torn and wept with pus and blood. But Brienne’s eyes were drawn to his snarling helm—with its dull metal nose and sharp teeth of steel. It was the Hound’s property but the man wearing it was certainly no Hound.

The sky grew darker and the storm clouds thundered up above. The young girl that had greeted you into the inn had slammed the door open, now holding a crossbow. Whatever she was screaming was lost to the rain and thunder. 

“Loose a quarrel at me and I’ll shove that crossbow up your cunt and fuck you with it. Then I’ll pop your fucking eyes out and make you eat them,” raged the man, his voice nearly as loud as the booming in the sky. Your chest rose and fell in silence as you slowly reached behind you to unsling your bow. 

“Leave her be,” called out Brienne, drawing their attention. “If you want to rape someone, try me.”

The outlaws laughed and chortled at that. One japed about fucking horses before fucking her. The rest of their words were unintelligible to you as you focused on drawing an arrow without pulling too much attention to yourself. It proved to be a difficult task when there were seven pairs of eyes trained on Brienne, and, consequently, you, as well.

Brienne said something you couldn’t catch, leaving the man with the helm fuming. He charged forward through the mud. Brienne shuffled away from you—she needed the man to come to her, but not to get too close to you. You were her priority now.

A song of steel screeched through the rain-torn wind as their swords clashed. Brienne managed to cut through the rags of his tunic and slash a gaping hole in his cheap chainmail just before she just barely evaded his swinging axe. The man was screaming expletives at her—whore, bitch, freak. 

You nocked the arrow with not a second thought.

Then the drawstring was split in two and you were left with a useless bow. One of the outlaws had made his way to you whilst you were concentrating on the man with the helm—and broke your favored weapon. 

“Shhh,” he crooned as he laid the cold, wet blade of the knife he used to cut your bow against your throat. “Enjoy and watch the show, boy.” He must have thought you were one of the orphans that lived here—and not much of a threat, considering he pulled the knife away from you and made a show of pointing it towards Brienne and her attacker. “It’s not every day you see a woman like her battle a man like him.”

You nodded, playing along. You still had the dagger you used to cut your hair tucked against your hip. It was a touch too dull for your liking, but it would have to do for now. You had no other choice. With the man’s eyes drawn back to their messy duel, you drew its blade and drove it forth, straight into throat. His arms flailed for a second before clawing at your face and chest. Pain bloomed over your skin. If you were bleeding, you couldn’t feel it—not with all the rain pouring over you. You savagely tore the dagger out from his throat and drove it through his chest again and again and again. From your peripheral vision, you could see Brienne parry over and over, stab this way and that—and finally skewer her longsword straight through him until its pointy end protruded out his back.

You continued stabbing the man until he fell to the ground in a limp, bloodied heap. Even then you didn’t stop—straddling his waist and bringing the dagger down in furious strokes. It occurred to you that the other men would be upon Brienne a second too late—when you swung around, she was swarmed by the rest of them. 

“Eddard!” she called, immediately halting you in your assault on the long-dead outlaw. It took you a moment to realize that she was addressing you, not wanting to call out your actual name. “Run! Run, now!”

Two of the outlaws were coming towards you.

“Brienne!” you yelled just as one of them sliced a cut through her shoulder she couldn’t properly roll away from. The rest of your protests caught in your throat when you watched one of them—one with wild eyes that had irises too small and teeth filed sharp—dive forward onto Brienne, sending her crashing to the ground. He bit a chunk of her face right off. 

More men surrounded her. Punching, kicking, and slicing at your friend. No, you couldn’t see her anymore, where is she? Get up, Brienne, get up…

“GO!” you could hear her muffled voice scream. “NED, GO!”

No, no, no…

But if you stayed, you would be dead, as well. One of the outlaws made a grab for you, but you danced back. If not for the two slipping on the watery mud the very next second, you would have been dead.

With your heart beating in your throat, you turned on your heel and fled.

What was a kingsguard without his king? Jaime hadn’t been happy to be sent off to the Riverlands again—his place was beside Tommen. The boy-king with a golden crown sitting atop his golden curls. Cersei had insisted on him leaving, however. She’d grown more restless, more paranoid, more snappy since their father’s death. Lancel, his fool of a cousin, was now a religious fanatic who seemed to be intent on fasting until he passed from starvation, and had confessed his sins of lying with Cersei. Apparently he was not the only one. The Kettleblack brothers, the court fools, and hells, even serving girls, if word of mouth was to be trusted. 

He felt a fool for ever loving her. And now she had kicked him out of the castle and away from his duty like one would a dirty mongrel.

Let her run the kingdom to ruin. See if I care.

Jaime wearily pulled at his face. That was the problem—he did care, and he knew he did. Cersei on the throne would mean little good for anybody. Not for his little brother, not for Brienne, not for you. He hoped you were safe, wherever you were.

The knight with one hand had had a long day, even though it was not yet nightfall. He had spoken to the Blackfish, Brynden Tully, in hopes of making some sort of negotiation. Perhaps goad him into a duel of single-combat and spare everyone of the grueling boredom that came with a slow siege. Expectedly, the wind-beaten lord took none of the bait and retreated back into his castle. Then, he had a short, but explosive council meeting with a few of the riverlords. They squabbled over each other like mindless birds over a piece of half-baked bread. Jaime couldn’t help but wonder what his father would do in his shoes, but was quick to relinquish such a thought. Tywin Lannister would never be in this position in the first place. And he was dead, which was perhaps the more important bit. After the council, he paid a visit to Ryman Frey, who was preoccupied fucking some whore who called herself a Queen. He had the big oaf dismissed for wasting so much time and resources, then named his son, Edwyn, command of the siege. He ordered young Edwyn to tell his great-grandsire, Walder Frey, to release all the prisoners for the crown. There was no undoing the Red Wedding, but he could, at the very least, attempt to rectify the troubles it left in its wake.

And now—now Jaime had one more person to visit.

It was his aunt, Genna Lannister, who had urged Jaime to do something about the sullen man with the noose loosely wrapped around his throat. In his state, he posed no danger physically. As a symbol, however, Edmure Tully, was a great danger to the cause. His cause? Jaime wasn’t entirely sure what he was fighting for anymore. It certainly didn’t feel like he was protecting Tommen from all these leagues away from him. His golden hand felt so very heavy strapped onto his stump—why did he still bother carrying it around?

Ilyn Payne made quick work of cutting Edmure Tully down from the wooden gallows he was perched upon. His hair, scraggly and red, hung in limp clumps over his dirtied, bloody face. Eyes deep blue, heavy with exhaustion. Jaime couldn’t help but think of Robb Stark at the sight of him. Gods, they looked alike.

Jaime had Edmure pulled through the tents and mass of Freys and other rivermen alike. One japed about a fish on a leash. A young man holding an instrument was amongst the throng of stares, and he ordered the singer to follow, and the lad obediently did. Onto a ferry they went, where the vessel would carry them to Tumblestone.

“Why?” Edmure has croaked, gripping weakly onto Jaime’s arm. 

“Consider it a wedding gift,” Jaime replied. 

The Tully eyed him warily. “A wedding gift?”

“I’ve heard your wife is pretty. She’d have to be, for the two of you to be abed whilst your sister and king were being murdered.” Jaime gave him a wry look. 

“I never knew. There were musicians outside the bedchamber, I couldn’t…”

“I’m sure Lady Roslin made for a grand distraction, as well.”

At the crass insinuation, however truthful, Edmure frowned and pulled away from the knight. “They made her do it. She had little say in the matter. Roslin never wanted any of it to happen. She wept the entire night, but I thought…”

“You thought it was your rampant manhood that swayed her to tears? It’s a sight any woman would weep to, I’m sure.”

Edmure hung his head. “She is carrying my child.”

Your child or your death? Jaime thought, but tastefully decided not to say it out loud. Not yet. Instead, he asked, “Your king-nephew, Robb. Did he ever speak of his aunt before his end?”

Edmure lifted his gaze to the kingslayer at that. “The Bitter Wolf?” He thought for a moment, eyes distant. “No. She was hardly ever brought up. Robb didn’t like to speak of her. Not after her betrayal with your freedom. If he did speak of her, it would’ve been with Catelyn.”

“Who is now dead,” Jaime dryly said.

“Yes,” Edmured replied, letting his gaze drift down to the waters. 

“Much help you are.”

“Where is she now? The Bitter Wolf.” 

Jaime saw no point in lying to him. “I don’t know.”

The rest of the ferry trip was spent in silence.

Once at his pavilion, Jaime dismissed Ilyn, but kept the singer around. He ordered the servants there to boil bathwater for the honored guest, and had clean garments brought to him, along with warm food and sweet wine. Edmure still couldn’t quite comprehend why exactly Jaime Lannister was being so courteous, but couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of cleanliness. He clambered into the tub and started scrubbing the grime off his skin.

Jaime pulled up a chair to sit beside him. “After you’re clean and your belly is full, you will be escorted to Riverrun. What happens after that is up to you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t,” said Jaime. “Your uncle is old. Valiant, admittedly, but his best years are behind him. He has no wife to grieve for him, nor children to succeed him. A good death is the most the Blackfish can wish for. You, however, have many years remaining to you. You are the rightful heir to House Tully, not him. Your uncle serves you, by law. Riverrun’s fate is in your hands.”

Edmure blinked at him. “I don’t…”

“Understand, I presume? All that time with a rope around your neck must have strangled you of all your wits.” Jaime was growing impatient. “You must yield the castle. Yield, and nobody dies. The smallfolk will be allowed to leave in peace, or they may serve Lord Emmon and his lady-wife, my aunt. Ser Brynden will be allowed to take the black and join the Night’s Watch, with as many of the garrison that choose to join. You, as well. The Wall is in dire need of more hands, I’ve heard. If that is not to your tastes, you may go to Casterly Rock as my captive and enjoy all the comforts and courtesy that befits a hostage of your rank. Your wife may join you. If your sire is a boy, he will serve House Lannister as a squire. Once he comes of age, he is welcome to earn his knighthood, along with some lands I will bestow upon him. If Roslin bears you a daughter, she will be well dowered until she is old enough to wed a fitting lord. You may be granted parole, even, once the war is done. All this only if you yield the castle.”

The water steamed and sloshed in the tub as Edmure gingerly shifted about. “And if I will not yield?”

The servants and squires were all listening. The singer watched the two speak with wide eyes. No matter. Let them all hear it.

“You’ve seen our numbers, Edmure. The ladders, the towers, the trebuchets, the rams. If I speak the command, my cousin will bridge your moat and break your gate. Blood will spill. Hundreds will die, most being your own people. Your former bannermen will be the first wave of attackers, so you will start your day by killing fathers, brothers, and sons of men who died for you at the Twins. The second wave will be Freys, and there are plenty of them to spare. My westermen will be the third once your archers are exhausted of arrows and your knights so weary their blades will no longer lift from the ground. The castle will fall, and all inside will be put to the sword. Your livestock will be butchered. Your river will rot with corpses. Your godswood will fall. Your keeps and inventories will burn.” Jaime swallowed as he said the next words. It was true that he did not actually mean to do it, but a threat was a threat, and words are wind. “Your wife may have the child before any of this. You’ll want the babe, I presume. I can send him to you once he’s born. With a trebuchet.”

There came a lengthy silence. Edmure was still in the bath. All the servants and squires stared in horror. 

Genna had told him earlier that he was not his father’s son. Tyrion was more Tywin’s than he could ever dream to be. Would her mind change if she had heard his speech? Was this what Tywin would have done? 

“I could climb out of this tub and kill you right as you are, Kingslayer,” said Edmure, once he finally regained his wits about him.

“You could try,” Jaime calmly replied. The man made no move, so Jaime pushed himself back to his feet. “Enjoy your food. Singer, play for our guest while he eats. You know the song, I trust.”

“The one about rain? Yes, my lord, I know it.”

Edmure’s head swiveled between the singer and Jaime. “No. I don’t want him. Get him away from me.” The tub water sloshed some more. 

“Why, it’s just a song, Lord Tully,” said Jaime, feigning innocence. “His voice couldn’t be that bad.”

The knight left his pavilion with the beginnings of Rains of Castamere playing faintly behind him.

The inns you came across the road were growing sparse. Many had been torched, ransacked, abandoned, or torn down. War left much of the Riverlands in ruins. Though you were none too happy about the state of the lands, pillaged, empty villages meant there would be fewer people loitering about, which was all the better for you.

You had managed to outrun the outlaws through the cover of the storm and ruins. It was only when the rain cleared away did you let yourself sit down and silently cry for Brienne. None deserved a fate like that. She was so undeniably good, more honorable than any other man you’ve ever met—and yet her face was torn apart and now she was dead.

Eventually, you made it out of the Riverlands and began to travel along the high road up to the Eyrie. It was the safest option to get there—the mountains were hardly on the table to walk through on your own, considering it was likely running amok with clansmen and thieves of all sorts. Even on the high road, the terrain was far more mountainous than the relatively-level grounds of the riverlands, and the incline noticeably steeper. You were traveling at a much slower pace than before, growing ragged and tired with shorter distances. 

On the third day on the narrow pathway towards the Bloody Gate, you came across two men on a cart. Merchants, perhaps. You spied the stacked wine casks in the back of the cart, wondering if they were empty. Surely they must be, you thought. The Vale is not likely to make any wine of their own, not with mountains as sheer as theirs. 

As their cart slowly rolled by, being pulled by braying donkeys, you overheard one of the men say, “A singer, it’s said!”

“A singer?” the other merchant echoed.

“Yes, a singer! They say he shoved Lady Arryn right off a mountain.” 

Lady Arryn? Your ears perked up at that. Did they mean Lysa?

He glanced at his companion dubiously. “I heard she threw herself out the door once she confessed her love to him.”

“That’s nonsense, have you seen the way she grips that sickly whelp of hers? She would never throw herself to her death whilst little Robin lives.”

That confirmed it. Lysa is dead?

“If I had a son like that, I’d do the very same,” he grumbled.

“Wait! Good sers!” you exclaimed, turning back to hurry after the cart. The donkeys whined protest as they were pulled to a slow stop. They both glanced back at you with wide, curious eyes.

“Sers?” The one with mousy brown hair piped up with a laugh lodged in his throat. “We are no knights.”

“Apologies, it’s a habit now, I fear. I simply wanted to know—” You stopped in your tracks. “What were you saying about Lady Arryn?”

“She’s dead, she is,” the older of the two merchants told you. His nose was crooked in three different places. “Out the Moon Door—or off the mountain—she flew.”

You stared at them for a moment, trying to gauge whether they were being serious or not. Tall tales such as this were not uncommon amongst the lowborn. “And who now rules in her stead?”

“Little Lord Robin is young still—”

“And far too sickly!”

“—Until he comes of age, Lord Petyr Baelish is Lord of the Vale.”

Littlefinger. The realization dawned on you with great unease as you recalled his infatuation with your good-sister and his alliances with the crown. Lannister crowns. This was no good… no good at all…

“Thank you,” you told the merchants. “That’s good to know.”

“Where are you off to?” said the younger one.

“Runestone,” you lied. “I have family there.” 

That seemed to appease them well enough. The one with brown hair waved farewell as he set the donkeys back into motion. You silently thanked the Gods for coming across decent men. You watched the cart of wine caskets descend down the path.

Now what? You could hardly stroll straight into the Vale now—not with the threat of Littlefinger handing you right back into Cersei’s mad hands. Should you even trust these rumors, though? Perhaps the septon at the Bloody Gate could clarify the situation for you. Surely he would tell you the truth. But getting there would take weeks, and you certainly didn’t have that sort of time. If word of Littlefinger’s rule in the Eyrie was true, you would be wasting even more time doubling back to escape. And if he heard of your presence in the Vale there was no telling what he would do… have you locked up and sent to Cersei in a cage? 

But what about Sansa? Your heart shattered at the thought of leaving her alone at the Eyrie with Baelish. You had to be smart about this. Even if Sansa was in the Vale, and if you managed to get to her, and if you could whisk her out of the castle undetected, there was nowhere for the two of you to go that would be safe. Sansa wouldn’t last a fortnight out in the wilderness. Gods forbid, but perhaps it was best for her to stay in the Eyrie until you managed to find a stronghold that would keep her safe and protected. 

Then again, she could just as likely be elsewhere in Westeros. Arya, too. Gods, you wished Brienne was with you. You could still see the blood spurting from her face, her screams cracking through the thunderous air. 

Damn you, Jaime. You should have come with me, you said to yourself, knowing it was a foolish chain of thought. He wouldn’t be much help, anyway. All he did when we traveled together was complain and find new ways to irritate me. 

You lingered on the path for a few more moments. Then, you frustratedly gestured to nobody, made a noise of displeasure, and turned to follow after the wine merchants. 

Back to the Riverlands you went.

Riverrun was now taken, but at a great cost. Brynden the Blackfish had escaped. All thanks to Jaime’s carelessness and Edmure’s wit. This would never have happened if Tywin was around, Jaime couldn’t help but lament. It was no wonder his aunt Genna told him he was nothing like his father. 

He was a fool, and his father knew it.

After a series of threats to both Edmure and his wife, the Tully lord managed to sullenly tell him what he knew of the Blackfish’s whereabouts. Which, to Jaime’s dismay, was very little. 

“He swam away,” Edmure had told him. He had the very same blue eyes as Catelyn did, as well as Robb. The very same look of loathing in them, as well. There was a time when you looked at him like that. “The Water Gate’s portcullis was raised. Not enough to be noticed, only three feet or so. My uncle is a strong swimmer. He pulled himself beneath the spikes and I can only assume the current helped him from there.”

Damn it all.

Jaime had hounds and hunters on the prowl for the Blackfish, but he had little hope of catching him. And Edmure was to be heading west the following morning. Jaime was glad to be rid of him, though he worried that the man would slip through the guards he would be traveling with. The knight wasn’t too keen on hunting for the Tully a third time.

News of Ryman Frey’s death was brought to him by young Edwyn, the former’s son. Hanged, apparently, by a band of outlaws nearby Fairmarket, which was boldly close by. Thoros, or Dondarrion, or this mysterious Stoneheart woman. There was little to do about the matter now—Jaime ordered more guards posted and that was that. 

That night, he practiced his shoddy, left-handed swordsmanship with the silent Ilyn Payne. He managed to last a grand total of three hours before giving into his cramping muscles’ begs for a rest. Afterwards, he poured the both of them cups full of Hoster Tully’s wine, and told Payne of how he used to kiss his sister when they were children. It was innocent at first, until it wasn’t. It felt nice being able to freely tell someone of everything knowing he couldn’t possibly relay such information to anybody else—Payne’s lack of a tongue ironically made Jaime chattier than ever. 

“Tyrion once told me that whores oft avoid kissing their patrons. They’ll fuck you until your legs fall off, he said, but they keep their lips far from yours. It’s what separates work from real romance. I wonder if my sister ever kissed Kettleblack.” Jaime thought for a long moment. “I kissed the Bitter Wolf.”

Payne spared him no reaction.

“She was crying.” Jaime took a sip of wine, leaving out the fact that he had shed a tear or two. “Not because of the kiss, though. I hope not, at least. I’m not that bad of a kisser. Cersei never cried when we kissed.” Though, after he said that, he realized basing his assumptions around Cersei wasn’t a particularly smart thing to do. You and Cersei were many leagues apart from one another.

Payne drained his cup and gestured for Jaime to refill it.

As he did, Jaime went on. “If not for Tyrion’s reckless call for a trial by combat, I would have married her. The Bitter Wolf. We would be at Casterly Rock, and Tyrion would be at the Wall, and my father would still be alive, and my son would sit the Iron Throne, and all would be well. Or not. Cersei would make matters difficult. I doubt Y/N would be pleased about her predicament, either, come to think of it.”

He decided to change the subject back to Kettleblack when Payne’s silence stretched for a little while longer.

“It would be ill-fitting to slay mine own Sworn Brother. I should geld him and send him to the Wall—make up for Tyrion’s loss in some way. He’s been to the Wall, perhaps he had no taste for returning. It’s bloody cold there, I’ve heard. Of course, if I were to lay a hand on Osmund, there would be his brothers to consider, as well. Brothers can be dangerous. Aegon the Unworthy had Ser Terrence Toyne dismembered into pieces after finding him abed with his mistress, and forced her to watch. Toyne’s brothers tried to kill the King for it, though their plans were ultimately foiled by the Dragonknight. It’s written in the White Book. All of it, including every knightly deed and chivalrous act. It doesn’t tell me what to do with Cersei, though.”

Ilyn dragged a finger across his scarred throat.

“No,” Jaime said. “Tommen has already lost a brother, and the man he thinks is his father. If his mother were to die by my hand, he would hate me for it. I’m sure his sweet little wife would use that hatred to her benefit, as well.”

An ugly smile stretched at Ilyn’s thin lips. Jaime misliked the crude gleam in his eye. 

“You talk too much,” Jaime told the mute.

The next night, Jaime found himself in Hoster Tully’s solar, looking over a map, wondering where the Blackfish could have gone. Many of his hunters had returned that morning, torn and bleeding. Direwolves, they had told him. A monstrous pack with a large she-wolf leading them. He wondered if that could have been the wolf that had mauled Joffrey what had felt like a lifetime ago. 

In consequence, Jaime couldn’t help but wonder about you. Did the direwolves like you at all? He strained his mind to remember, but couldn’t seem to recall. It confused him when his chest constricted at the thought of forgetting you.

The war was practically won. Dragonstone was taken, and Storm’s End would be very soon. Stannis was welcome to the cold fruits of the Wall—if Roose Bolton hadn’t already destroyed him. And the Riverlands were successfully taken without Jaime ever having to raise a sword against neither Stark nor Tully. All in all, he was to be content.

But where did that place you? Once everything calmed down, what would happen to you? To Sansa, who surely deserved no harm that would come to her? She was just a young girl and you… you were far from the paragon of innocence, to be certain, but surely he could have Tommen pardon you for any of your crimes. Your crimes being allegiance to your own nephew, which Jaime could hardly fault you for.

Then again, Cersei was the problem. There was no chance she would sit idly by and let you live. Once he returned to King’s Landing, he had to find a way to whisk Tommen from her crutches before he would turn as corrupt as Joffrey. A new council full of abled men would be in order, as well. 

More and more days passed. Jaime had the entire Tully garrison safely released from their keep, which displeased his Aunt Genna greatly, but Jaime was intent on letting them go. There was little harm they could do when they were scattered, weaponless, and hungry.

 He dreamed of Cersei most nights. Of her golden hair, which then molded into golden hands. In his dreams, he always had two hands. Sometimes touching her, stroking her, holding her—dreamy memories of old. Sometimes he was strangling her, which he certainly had never done before.

Other nights he dreamed of Brienne. Her big, brutish face red with rage and exhaustion. She would swing Oathkeeper at his neck and he awoke just before his head rolled off his shoulders.

Some of the nights, however scarce they were, were far more precious. He dreamt of you, your hair freckled with snow, your eyes alight as you watched children play beneath you. He was in Winterfell, he realized, and with a shocked start looked back down at the children. His? No. They were your nieces and nephews, of course. Their faces were a blur, but their red hair was unmistakable. Save for the littlest girl and the bastard boy. Snow, Jaime remembered. 

“We should have one,” your dream-self said to him, so serious that Jaime wondered if it was actually you standing there in front of him. “A little wolf-lion.”

Did Jaime want that? Would they have golden hair like his? Like Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen? But how could he have another child when he was never a father to the ones he already had? It felt wrong to even consider it. Dishonorable. Any romantic notion of a normal life with you was quickly dashed.

“I know we can’t,” you continued on before he could respond. “They’re all dead.” You gestured down to the Starklings. “And I’ll be joining them soon. But it’s a nice thought, isn’t it?”

“No—” he said, reaching out to you, but you had already faded into a blur.

Not all of his dreams with you were as bleak. Once he was abed with you, and another time he was bound by rope as you pointed an arrow at his forehead while he cackled maniacally. 

A week after releasing the last of the garrison, Jaime woke up with a start after dreaming about a cloaked figure that looked eerily similar to Cersei, though he knew it wasn’t her. His mother spoke soft riddles, where Cersei would bark harsh insults. He couldn’t quite tell which he favored. He threw the covers off him with his stump.

The room was frigid. The hearth’s warmth had waned away and the windows had been left pushed open when he fell asleep. In the darkness, Jaime made his way to close the shutters, but his foot touched against a wetness on the ground. Blood had been his first thought, but blood would not be so cold. Rain, perhaps, but he would have heard the sound of pattering coming from outside.

Jaime drew the damp curtains apart, letting the moonlight stream through. Moonlight and snow. Down below, the yard was spotting with white, growing thicker and thicker in the minutes he watched. After a moment, he even began to see his breath misting in front of him.

Winter is here, he thought. Marching south, and our granaries are half empty.

He watched the snow fall, and stood there thinking of you. It irked him that you haunted his every thought. Nonetheless, he hoped you were warm, wherever you were. If he was as fanatically religious as his dear coz Lancel, he would have even prayed for your safety.

When morning dawned, Riverrun’s maester came to pay him a visit. He was pallid-faced and shaking.

“I know,” Jaime said, glancing at the bound letter in the old man’s quivering hands. “The Citadel has sent a white raven. Winter has come.”

“No, my lord,” said Maester Vyman. “The bird came from King’s Landing. Forgive me, I took the liberty to open it, I did not know it was meant for your eyes…”

Jaime took the letter and sat by the window to read. It was Qyburn’s hurried hand, but he knew it to be Cersei’s fevered words. 

Come at once. Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once.

“Does my lord wish to answer?” asked Vyman, hovering by the door.

A snowflake landed on the letter. He was reminded of the snowflakes in your hair, in his dream. It was quick to melt, blurring the inked words and streaking down the paper. 

Jaime rolled the paper back as tight as he could with his one hand, and handed it back to the maester. “No,” he said. “Put this in the fire.”