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fushitoru · 1 month ago

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chapter 8: the lake a bridgerton au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, duke gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, SUGGESTIVE, making out, touching bare skin pre-marriage (the scandal), eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, description of injury, concussion, blood, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary ⸺ both you and gojo discover contradictory feelings lodged deep in your heart, and a confrontation (with an unexpected ally) leads to a rather....wet conclusion. (4.6k)

a/n additional warning that this chapter is not beta read. this may seem like a short chapter but it has TEAAAA (if you didnt already guess from the summary). i pushed myself to finish this for the peeps who finished finals this week so it may be a bit messy. anywho see u down below <3

prev. the rebound | next. soon!

general masterlist | series masterlist

Dearest gentle reader,

This Author finds herself most intrigued by the unfolding events of the Inos' recent ball. It appears that Her Majesty has not yet abandoned her faith in the diamond she so carefully selected. Will her confidence prove to be misplaced? Only time shall reveal the truth. Yet one cannot deny that fortune seems to shine—dare this Author say, sparkle—upon Miss Itadori of late.

Last evening, she graced the ballroom with a strikingly altered appearance, one that left tongues wagging and gazes lingering. Most notable, however, was the company she kept. Duke Nanami himself was seen at her side, engaged in conversation that appeared both earnest and uncommonly animated. A rare sight indeed, for His Grace has shown little interest in the charms of other young ladies this season. Could this be the beginning of something extraordinary? This Author will watch closely.

And who could forget the Gojo house party, where the drama rivaled even the most lurid novels of the circulating library? Whispers abound of a certain Lord Naoya Zen’in, who, it seems, departed the event looking rather... bruised, both in pride and in visage. What transpired to cause such a spectacle? Alas, my sources have yet to provide all the particulars, but one can only assume that tempers flared—and perhaps fists followed.

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

Satoru wipes his knuckles on a spare handkerchief, marring it with streaks of crimson. After the blood coating his hand is cleaned off, it reveals light bruises.

He always abhorred such physical entanglements. Let other men soil their reputations in drunken brawls or duels over imagined slights; Satoru prided himself on wit and charm, a tongue sharp enough to parry any insult.

However, for the first time, it seemed that the blasé duke-to-be Lord Satoru Gojo, ever so apathetic to others and their struggles, was not so blasé anymore. What affected him was contradictory; after all, he had made a big decision to avoid being affected by the woman herself. So why was he so…inconsistent? Perhaps it is this unpredictability, capriciousness the reason he has to distance himself from any others who may be in harm’s way—the way forged by Satoru himself. There is no space for inconstancy, irresponsibility, whimsicality, or contradiction in his life, especially not with his duties and the weight held over his shoulders.

But he allows himself this, one last time. Your expression lingered in his mind—the way your lips parted in shock, the stiff set of your shoulders as you brushed past Naoya’s lecherous words without deigning to respond. He had seen the moment your composure faltered, a crack in the armor you wore so effortlessly. The crack only he was supposed to cause.

It was intolerable.

As soon as pale pink ribbons trail out of the room, he moves toward Naoya, completely ignoring the lady who was talking to him and her trailing protests. When he’s right in front of the other man, he gives him a curt nod. “Naoya.”

The other man’s eyes—which were before no doubt prowling on other unsuspecting ladies—flit to him in surprise. “Lord Gojo, what a pleasant surprise. I daresay—”

“Meet me in the courtyard,” Satoru interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Naoya’s brows shot up, but he recovered quickly, a sly grin curling his lips. “A private word? How intriguing. Lead the way, my lord.”

Satoru didn’t wait to see if he followed. His stride was steady, his purpose unwavering.

The cool air of the courtyard carried the faint strains of music from the ballroom, the chatter of guests dimmed by the stone walls. Satoru turned to face Naoya, his stance deceptively relaxed, one hand resting on the pommel of his cane.

“Now, my lord,” Naoya drawled, his smirk widening. “To what do I owe this rather dramatic summons?”

The reply came not in words but in the swift arc of Satoru’s fist, connecting solidly with Naoya’s jaw. The sharp crack of the blow shattered the stillness, and Naoya stumbled, clutching his face as shock registered in his eyes.

“What in blazes—”

“Hold your tongue,” Satoru bit out, seizing Naoya by the lapels of his coat and slamming him back against the cold, unyielding wall. His tone was calm, his voice low, but it carried a menace that silenced all protests. “You will not speak of her in that way again. Do you understand me?”

Naoya grimaced, his defiant eyes narrowing despite the pain. “Ah,” he sneered, a breathless rasp laced with derision, “this is about Miss Itadori, isn’t it? Playing the chivalrous hero, are we, Lord Gojo? Or is it your own wounded ego driving this display?”

The next punch silenced him mid-taunt, burying deep in his abdomen. Naoya doubled over with a strangled gasp, his knees threatening to buckle, but Satoru held him upright, his grip vice-like.

“Speak her name again,” Satoru hissed, leaning close, his voice cold enough to chill even the night air, “and I swear you’ll find yourself in far worse condition.”

The tension between them crackled like a storm. For a fleeting moment, Naoya’s lips twitched into the ghost of a sneer, but his words died unspoken, arrogance muted by the sheer force of Satoru’s fury. Satisfied, Satoru released him with a sharp shove, watching dispassionately as Naoya crumpled against the wall, gasping for breath.

“You are mad,” Naoya spat, wiping at the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “You’ll ruin yourself over this.”

“Perhaps,” Satoru replied evenly, smoothing the cuffs of his sleeves as though nothing had happened. “But I’ve never much cared for your opinion, Naoya.”

He turned on his heel, his steps measured, his expression impassive.

The sting in his knuckles was a small price to pay. Unfortunately it seemed that for you, it was a price he would pay again and again.

He had told himself the decision was rational. Logical. Your match had to cease because it had begun to unravel him. You were a distraction, one he could not afford. His life was designed for control, every action measured, every move calculated. A match with you, he had realized, would be unlike any other. It would mean more. It would demand more.

And yet, how could he feel this jealousy? This fierce protectiveness? It was contradictory, maddening even. His resolve to avoid entanglements of the heart warred against the memory of your laughter echoing through his mind. It was absurd, but he could not dismiss the sharp ache in his chest whenever you looked at another man, especially one so undeserving as Naoya Zen’in.

He had known from the start that you were different. No coy smiles or simpering obedience. No easy conquest to stroke his ego. Your instant rejection of him during your first meeting had been a blow to his pride and a revelation he had been too stubborn to acknowledge then.

Satoru was not a man who chased after women. He had no need to. And yet…

But even as he walked away, Satoru couldn’t help but feel the cracks in his own carefully constructed armor widening. What, indeed, was he doing?

You startle in your sleep, sitting up abruptly on your bed in the dark.

The season has taken a turn for the good, so far. With Whistledown singing your praises and the Queen not yet deciding to behead you, you were on the path of securing great prospects, whether it be with Duke Nanami or someone else.

“But you’re missing something, aren’t you?”

The voice is a low murmur, brushing the shell of your ear like the ghost of a touch. Your heart leaps to your throat as you twist toward the sound, your eyes darting across the dimly illuminated room. The corners of the chamber remain steeped in shadow, the moonlight doing little to ease your apprehension.

“Who’s there?” you whisper, clutching the sheets tighter, your knuckles whitening around the fabric.

The silence stretches, thick and oppressive, before a figure emerges from the shadow near the mantle. He moves with a predator’s grace, his steps silent against the floorboards. Even before he fully steps into the moonlight, you know who it is.

Gojo.

“You look startled, my lady,” he says, his voice carrying an infuriatingly casual lilt, though his gaze fixes on you with unnerving precision.

“This is a dream,” you murmur, your voice trembling despite your effort to remain calm. “You are not real.”

“And yet,” he replies. “here I am. Curious, isn’t it?”

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat refusing to budge. He’s closer now, standing at the foot of your bed, his pale hair catching the silvery light like a halo—an angel or a devil, you can’t decide. “What do you want, Lord Gojo?” you demand, your voice sharper than you feel.

His eyes sweep over you, lingering for a moment too long before meeting your gaze again. “To commend you, of course,” he says. “You’ve been doing well—dancing with dukes, charming the Queen. The season’s darling.”

His words cut, though you can’t say why. “Why does that matter to you?” you snap, sitting straighter, as though defiance could shield you from the heat simmering in his gaze.

“It doesn’t,” he replies smoothly, though the corner of his mouth quirks into a smirk that betrays him.

“Then why are you here?”

His answer doesn’t come in words. Instead, he steps closer, his boots brushing the edge of your rug. Slowly, deliberately, he reaches out, his gloved hand catching a strand of hair that’s fallen loose. He rolls it between his fingers, as though testing its silkiness, before letting it slip away. “Because I can’t seem to stay away,” he murmurs. His voice is low, meant only for you, and it sends a shiver through your body.

You scoff, though the sound catches in your throat. “You’re insufferable.”

His chuckle is soft, a deep rumble that seems to linger in the air. “And yet, you don’t look away.”

Your fists clench around the sheets, anger flaring in your chest—anger at him, at yourself, at the fact that he’s right. Before you can stop yourself, you throw the covers aside and rise to your feet.

He doesn’t step back. Instead, he stands still, a study in casual defiance, though his gaze flickers with something you can’t name as you move closer. His eyes lazily drag up and down your frame, which you notice is only covered in a flimsy, almost translucent nightgown.

“If this is a dream,” you say, your voice trembling with fury and something unspoken, “then it doesn’t matter what I do, does it?”

His smirk falters, replaced by a glimmer of uncertainty that only fans the reckless fire inside you. “Perhaps not,” he murmurs, though the tension in his voice betrays him.

Your hands shake as you reach out, your fingers curling into the lapels of his coat. His eyes follow the movement, then stare back at you, into your eyes. For a brief moment, his breath hitches, and his hands twitch at his sides, as though warring with the instinct to touch you. But the flicker of surprise in his eyes tells you he didn’t expect this.

With a sharp tug, you pull him closer, your lips meeting his in a collision of unspoken longing, yearning, and pining. The kiss is unsteady at first, as if both of you are testing the waters, but it quickly deepens, becoming a clash of fire and desperation. His hands find your waist, his grip firm but not demanding, as if he’s holding on to something precious.

You press closer, letting the reckless freedom the dream gave you sweep you away. His lips part against yours, and the kiss turns slower, more deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment, savoring you, devouring you. But then, his hands shift, moving from your waist with a slow, tantalizing seductiveness. They skim over your hips, his touch deliberate, before trailing down to the curve of your thighs. His fingers brush over the soft fabric of your nightgown, the heat of his touch searing through the barrier like it isn’t there.

Your breath hitches as he lingers, his thumb tracing a path along the sensitive skin just above your knee. The sensation is electric, and yet it feels like forbidden ground—an intimacy you’ve never dared to imagine, even in your most audacious thoughts.

It’s then that the dream begins to unravel.

His form flickers, as though caught in the haze of a mirage, the sharp lines of his figure softening. The room darkens, the corners of your vision blurring as though the world is folding in on itself.

“No,” you whisper, the word barely audible over the sound of your own pounding heart.

He looks at you one last time, his eyes filled with an intensity that feels as real as your racing pulse. And then he’s gone, the dream dissolving into nothingness, leaving you gasping and clutching the sheets. When you wake, the echo of his touch lingers, the heat of his hands on your thighs an ache you can’t explain. You press trembling fingers to your lips, your breath catching as though the kiss was still happening.

But no matter how much you try, you can’t shake the memory of his hands, of the way he’d touched you like he belonged there. Like he had always belonged there.

You choose to blame the irregular slumber you have gotten this past fortnight as the reason why you are being so discourteous. For Duke Nanami’s words drift your mind, never truly being registered, as you both had strolled, promenading hand in hand.

It is not merely His Grace who suffers from your inattentiveness. Any suitor who dares to approach is met with the same distracted gaze, your thoughts elsewhere. Whether it is the lingering remnants of that unbidden dream—one you’ve tried and failed to forget—or the fleeting moments where you think you spot Lord Gojo across the green only to realize it is a figment of your imagination, your mind is a battlefield.

A few awkward conversations—where you are not truly present—pass and go, until you sit by the lakeside of Surrey Park, deciding to take a break from the conversations that awaited you if you were to stroll towards your family’s pavilion.

But not now, for here, nature offers solace. The gentle ripple of water, the soft rustling of leaves, the occasional bird song—all soothe the cacophony in your head.

You settle onto a bench, your gown fanning around you, and allow yourself to breathe. But even as you close your eyes and tilt your head toward the sun, the peace does not come. Your thoughts betray you, circling back to him—his infuriating smirk, his piercing gaze, the way his voice seemed to linger in the air long after he was gone. The dream was completely unbidden, unexpected. You had only started to move on and start this season anew. It seemed as your consciousness was working against you in an effort to bring fictional desires to life.

You knew clearly that Gojo was infuriating, and had colored your name. So why must your mind actively go against what was clearly a certitude?

Before you could ponder on your thoughts for much longer, you heard her.

“You do seem terribly at ease for someone of your…reputation.”

The voice startles you, cutting through your reverie like a blade. Your eyes snap open, and there stands Lady Mei Mei, her expression a mask of genteel venom. You sigh inwardly, and bring on your best smile, albeit artificial. “Lady Mei Mei,” you greet, striving for composure. “To what do I owe this very unexpected…interruption?”

“Interruption?” she echoes, feigning offense. “How quaint. I merely wished to congratulate you on your newfound popularity. Though, I must say, the…boldness of your wardrobe choices does make one wonder.” Her gaze drags over your form, disdain dripping from every word. “Are you seeking a husband, my dear, or something far less respectable?”

Your fingers curl into the fabric of your skirt, but you maintain your poise. “Boldness, Lady Mei Mei, is often mistaken for confidence by those unfamiliar with either.”

Her lips twitch, but the venom remains. “Confidence, or desperation? It is difficult to tell with one so eager to flaunt herself before the ton. Tell me, do you find it tiring? Whoring yourself out for attention?”

The word lands like a slap, sharp and stinging, and you feel the surge of heat rise to your cheeks. Slowly, deliberately, you rise to your feet, smoothing the folds of your gown as you stand. Your chin tilts upward, a shield of composure against the venom Mei Mei has hurled your way. You desperately fight the urge to slap her into nonsense, but there are eyes, no matter how hidden from public view you may think yourself to be.

“I find it far less tiring than wielding envy as one’s primary weapon,” you reply, your voice cool yet cutting, every syllable sharpened to a blade. “But then, I would not expect you to understand.”

Mei Mei’s lips twist into something that might have been a smile, had it not been dripping with malice. Her eyes narrow, the sunlight catching the cold glint of her stare. She shifts closer, the deliberate grace of her steps at odds with the tension crackling in the air. For a moment, you think she might lash out—a slap, a shove, something physical to match her words.

But before the storm can break, a voice, smooth and deceptively warm, cuts through the charged silence.

“Lady Mei Mei.”

Your breath hitches, and you whip your head around to see him. Lord Gojo strides toward you both, his movements as fluid and effortless as a ripple across the lake’s surface.

For a moment, your mind stutters, unable to reconcile the sight before you. He’s here. Not lingering at the edges of the crowd, not offering a polite nod of acknowledgment before disappearing into the fringes of Surrey Park. No, he’s walking toward you with purpose, the light catching in his silver hair, his focus unerringly fixed on the scene unfolding before him.

The man who had, for days, seemed to find every excuse to avoid you (and you him), whose gaze had flicked past you as though you were nothing more than a fixture of the lawn—he was now approaching with a startling intensity, his presence impossible to ignore.

His expression is inscrutable, but the faint furrow of his brow betrays something darker beneath the veneer of his charm. The tension in his jaw, the faint set of his shoulders—it all speaks of an intent that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Lord Gojo,” you whisper under your breath, your voice barely audible over the blood rushing in your ears. What is he doing here? And why, when he looks at you, does it feel as though the air has shifted?

Lady Mei Mei recovers first, her voice cutting through your disarray like a blade. “Lord Gojo,” she purrs, her saccharine tone a stark contrast to the venom she had wielded moments earlier. “What a surprise to see you here.”

But you can’t take your eyes off him. You’re too stunned, too disoriented by his sudden appearance and the sheer force of his presence. Why must he appear now?

His gaze flicks briefly to Mei Mei, his lips curving into a polite smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, before his attention returns to you. And when it does, it’s as though the world narrows to the space between you.

“Not half as surprising as overhearing this delightful conversation,” he says, his tone light, almost lazy, but there’s an edge to it—a sharpness that wasn’t there before. His eyes meet yours again, and this time, the intensity in them is impossible to ignore. Your breath holds itself in, your confusion and shock colliding with something you can’t quite name. There’s no teasing quip, no playful smirk to soften his words. Just the weight of his gaze, pressing down on you as though he’s searching for something you don’t understand. Then, he returns it to Mei Mei. “I was unaware you had taken to dispensing moral judgments, my lady. Though I suppose one must occupy their time somehow.”

The barb lands, and Mei Mei’s smile falters. Her spine stiffens, her fingers twitching at her side, but Gojo doesn’t stop. He steps closer, his boots crunching against the gravel, and the shift in his demeanor is subtle but unmistakable.

“I would suggest, for the sake of civility,” he says, his voice softening to something far more dangerous, “that you refrain from such remarks in the future.”

The crowd, drawn by the commotion, murmurs from a distance. You feel their gazes prickle against your skin, their curiosity thickening the already-tense air. Mei Mei’s cheeks flush a pale pink, and her hands clench at her sides, the effort to maintain her composure palpable.

“You dare—” she begins, but Gojo cuts her off, his voice a degree colder now.

“I dare a great many things, my lady. Do not test the limits of my patience.”

The words hang heavy in the air, silencing the murmurs of the crowd. Mei Mei’s breath quickens, and though her lips curl into a sneer, the fire in her eyes dims. After a moment, she dips her head again, but this time it’s no longer polite. It’s forced, a concession.

“Very well, my lord,” she says, her voice tight. “I can see when my presence is no longer welcome.”

Lady Mei Mei walked past you to exit the scene, clearly disgraced after Lord Gojo had surprisingly butted in to your defense. Her turn was sharp, and her skirts flared. Then, she did something you hadn’t expected. After all, you were nonplussed from Gojo’s appearance in of itself that you did not have much awareness of your physical environment. Foremost of all, you were furious. How dare he waltz into the scene, aiming at playing hero and gentleman after all he has done to you this season? The anger consumed you, leaving you ignorant to Lady Mei Mei's schemes.

The movement came quickly—a flick of her hand, subtle yet purposeful, as though she intended to brush away an inconvenience. Only, her target was not the hem of her gown or an errant lock of hair. It was you. That is, that was the intention of the action. However, fortuitously enough for you, Lord Gojo had noticed it.

With a sharp tug, his hand closed around your wrist, pulling you aside just as Lady Mei Mei's push landed—on him.

The splash was enormous.

For a moment, the world stood still, the lake swallowing the ripples as though it too were stunned by what had just transpired. Around you, gasps echoed, punctuated by the soft clink of champagne glasses dropped in surprise. All eyes turned toward the water, toward the spot where Gojo had disappeared.

Your pulse pounded erratically, caught between the shock of it all and the mortifying realization that everyone was watching. Watching and waiting.

And then, like something out of a scandalous painting that no young lady of good breeding ought to admit having seen, Gojo emerged.

The water clung to him as though reluctant to let go, his white shirt turned sheer and pasted to his torso, revealing every lean muscle and curve beneath. Droplets trailed from the tips of his silver hair, tracing maddening paths down the sharp edges of his jaw before disappearing beneath the soaked fabric. His black necktie clung damply to his throat, accentuating the hollows there, and when his eyes met yours—gleaming with mischief and something darker—your breath hitched.

It was obscene.

The crowd seemed to agree, though their response was far less scandalized than you might have expected. The ladies weren’t laughing; no, their gazes were riveted, their fans fluttering in a feeble attempt to hide their obvious fascination. Their admiration was palpable, their whispers laden with awe.

Flustered, you took a few steps back to give him space and to not drench yourself (a/n lmaooo you’re drenched already bestie), but you mentally noted to yourself to make his pectorals bigger in your dreams (not that you would continue to have such salacious dreams, of course. It was the mind creating desires you never had, obviously.) It was apparent that you were still very distracted, for you did not notice the two pairs of footsteps rushing towards your direction, towards Gojo.

“What happened?” Duke Nanami looked at Gojo’s very…wet state, concerned and alarmed. “What did you get yourself into this time, Satoru?”

Gojo, who was still wiping water from his hair and grinning like a fool, gave him an exaggerated look of innocence. He ran a hand through his damp, platinum hair, the gesture almost too casual for someone in his drenched state. As he did so, the hem of his shirt inched upward, revealing a tantalizing sliver of bare skin, a sliver that led downward to a trail of white hair disappearing beneath his waistband—

“Kento,” Gojo laughed heartily, as if there were nothing amiss. “You worry too much! A little water never hurt anyone.”

Lord Geto, on the other hand, had been trailing behind Nanami. At the sight of Gojo, he started laughing, snickering mischievously at the sight. He had a knowing look on his face, as if he were fully aware of the scene he was witnessing—Gojo’s accidental plunge into the lake being just another moment of unintentional chaos.

“Oh, Satoru, you're impossible.” Geto stepped closer, shaking his head in mock disbelief, but his smile was far too amused to be truly accusatory or reproachful. "Did you get knocked into the lake by your own... charm?" His voice dripped with sarcasm as he glanced at the crowd of ladies now eyeing Gojo as though he were some mythical creature freshly emerged from the depths.

Nanami sighed, his brow furrowing as he crossed his arms in that ever-earnest manner that seemed to constantly play contrast to Gojo’s reckless energy. “This is exactly why you need a keeper at all times, Satoru.”

Gojo, still basking in the odd mix of amusement and the lingering attention of the nearby ladies, merely shrugged. “I’m fine, Kento. Just a little... refreshment is all.”

“By the looks of it,” Geto continued with a raised brow, “I’m more concerned about you than you are of yourself.” He gestured with a lazy wave, motioning toward the way the water had soaked through Gojo’s shirt, revealing a lot more than was likely intended. “And, I mean, look at that—those ladies aren’t gazing at you for your intellect.” (a/n LMAO ate him up)

Before Gojo could lob a retort, Nanami interjected with his trademark no-nonsense tone. “Enough of this,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re soaked to the bone. Let’s get you inside before you catch a chill—or create an even bigger scene.”

Gojo lingered for a moment, casting a leisurely glance around the gathering. The ladies, previously locked in their own conversations, now shamelessly ogled him, their fans fluttering uselessly against the rising heat in their cheeks. Their gazes trailed after him as he started to walk away, and you swore you caught more than one wistful sigh among the crowd.

And yet, even as he moved farther from the lake and closer to the house, his steps deliberate and unhurried, he suddenly stopped. Slowly, his head turned, and his piercing blue gaze found yours with unnerving accuracy, as if he’d felt your bewildered stare all along.

His smile appeared—lazy, confident, and maddeningly seductive. The corner of his mouth tilted up just enough to make your stomach flip, and his eyes... Oh, his eyes. They gleamed like a predator’s, sharp and teasing, and yet impossibly inviting.

The world seemed to tilt, the air around you thickening. Your chest tightened with the realization: that smile wasn’t for the crowd, nor for the fawning ladies he left in his wake.

It was for you.

Your cheeks burned, your thoughts a chaotic mess as he turned back and sauntered away, water still dripping from his hair and shirt. The ladies continued to gawk openly, but you remained rooted to the spot, your heart pounding erratically.

Oh, that bastard.

prev. the rebound | next. soon!

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n so....erm this was definitely a CHAPTER.....BUT AH POOKIES ITS HERE i got so excited bc i got the idea to write his lake fall so i finished this chapter. it's a bit messy, like i said, but i hope you liked it <333

I WANT TO SUCK GOJOS DICK BADLYYY i think this chapter was posted so fast after the last bc im on my period and im horny so hence the lake scene was born like i rawdogged this shit in five hours

ANYWYAS THERES PUSH AND PULL YEARNING PINING...so much contradiction hmmmmmm

miss itadori malfunctioning when gojo got out of the water (like a complete SLUT)

anyways i hope some of you WHORESS that simped for bridgerton!geto will be coming anew to simp for our main MAN. this debauchery i approve of. i fear all anons, especially zaynesbathrobe anon and anon in my walls, will be having a field day with this one

thank you for readinggg! please comment and reblog to let me know ur thots :3 (esp reblog, a lot of people have been binging bridgerton!gojo recently and spam liking. tumblr daddy might lock me up and shadowban me/mark my account, so reblogs would be appreciated <3)

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@extremelyexh4usted @yoshisaurmuchakoopas @nixiepixee @generalstephkenobi @vernasce-blogs

@byhuenii @geniejunn @a-girl-with-thoughts @dazedin2d @chuuqxs

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jimxnslight · 7 months ago

Text

Fool's Gold || Part I

Summary: Sweet Y/N, with her fluffy pastel dresses, soft makeup, and ditzy mannerisms. She’s seen as a fool in a world where there is no place for such things, but little do they know, the only fools are them.

Pairing: mafia leader!Jungkook x mafia leader's daughter!reader

Genre: mafia au, arranged marriage au

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: most warnings associated with mafia fics (e.g. violence, blood, etc), additional warnings might be added as the story progresses

<< masterlist || next part >>

“I heard that she’s a complete airhead.”

Jungkook’s expensive shoes smacked against the pristine white and gold marble floors as he continued to walk through the lavish hallway, hands disappearing behind his pockets while his steps were slow and confident. Most would think he was choosing to ignore the comment, but his closest friend knew better than to rush a man as calculating as Jungkook.

Instead, Taehyung strolled alongside him, taking in the glittering chandeliers looming over their heads and the intricate designs carved into the white walls that were much too traditional for his taste. Jungkook and Taehyung were nowhere near out of place in the sea of extravagance with their custom suits and shiny black dress shoes. Taehyung, the more simple of the two, had his brown hair parted and pushed back to reveal a blemish free forehead while his grey and black suit complimented the grey specks in his brown irises.

On the other hand, Jungkook’s black on black outfit adorned two expensive cufflinks and a gold brooch attached to his lapel. Taehyung’s gaze dropped to his black hair, which he noticed had grown in the past month.

When Taehyung realised that Jungkook wasn’t going to speak, he decided to fill the silence.

“Like apparently she’s huge on wearing pink and frilly stuff -which I guess is just a girl thing- but still, this is a mafia not a tea party.”

He paused, waiting for his comrade to offer his thoughts, but was met with silence once again.

“I’ve also heard she’s dumber than a pile of rocks. Barely passed high school and then dropped out of university not even a month in. Her major wasn’t even that hard. Commerce, was it?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows furrowed as Jungkook continued to lengthen the silence.

“And as you already must know, she was also married about a year ago but then was widowed after her husband was killed by a rival gang on the same day. Even though their marriage didn’t even last a full 24 hours, she had been so traumatised by the whole thing that apparently she didn’t even speak for an entire month after the ordeal. Can you imagine how much of a princess she must be for a simple death to shake her that much? She must be a real- come on man, how long are you going to make me go on?”

Jungkook turned his head to offer him a sly grin, “I was wondering when you would reach your limit.”

Taehyung gave him a halfhearted punch to the arm, “you’re such a jerk. Answer my question man. I’m dying to know what she’s actually like.”

He followed Jungkook as he turned into another hallway, curious as to what he thought of her, but his answer had him staring at Jungkook incredulously.

“I don’t know.”

Taehyung faltered in his step, gaping at the back of the man who continued through the hallway nonchalantly. When the weight of his answer finally processed completely in Taehyung’s mind, he ran forward so that he could walk alongside his friend once again.

“I think you misunderstood my question,” Taehyung tried again slowly, “I want to know about Lee Y/N, you know, your soon to be wife? The one you’re about to marry right now?”

“What is there to know?” Jungkook commented, mind occupied with a topic of much more importance, “a marriage with her will allow for the unification of two powerful mafia families and will also allow for an heir to be born. Is that not the whole point of marriages for individuals like us?”

“Well yeah, but there’s no harm in getting to know her at least a little bit. Did you even hear about the ‘dumb as rocks’ part when I was rambling?”

“That will only make her easier to control,” he deadpanned.

“Fine, whatever. Is she at least pretty?”

Taehyung’s eyes widened even more when Jungkook didn’t respond, “please tell me you’ve met her at least once. Oh my god, have you even looked at a picture of her?”

Jungkook's silence was all Taehyung needed to know that the answer was, in fact, no,” I knew I shouldn’t have gone out of the country! My parents kept telling me everything would be fine and they’d take care of the whole thing but you haven’t even met her once? I should’ve made my return flight earlier, then I could’ve-”

Taehyung’s voice faltered as he noticed Jungkook’s distant expression, causing his brows to furrow. He wasn’t listening to a word he was saying, which wasn’t something entirely out of the ordinary, but it usually wasn’t this bad. He sighed as he shifted his gaze to the expensive hall before him.

“Is this about the Parks?” He asked, noticing his friend’s focus return.

“It’s the Parks and the Mins,” Jungkook admitted, “ever since their alliance, they’ve been getting bold. They made a move on our West docks last week and would have been successful in seizing them if it weren’t for the blackmail I managed to procure at the last minute. But that won’t hold them off for long.”

Taehyung’s head tilted to the side, “you’ve always enjoyed a challenge. Why’s this bothering you so much?”

Jungkook turned into another hallway to finally come face to face with a large pair of grandiose double doors that towered over them. The two men came to a stop, aware that their conversation was now on a timer.

“I just… have an uneasy feeling,” he said, unable to reveal anymore to Taehyung. He couldn’t bring himself to tell his best friend what he had really witnessed when he visited the docks yesterday.

Taehyung, clueless to Jungkook’s inner turmoil, slapped him on the back, lightening the mood with a grin, “come on man, this is your wedding. You’ll figure everything out later, for now just relax. You deserve it.”

Before he could protest, Taehyung shoved the double doors open to reveal an enormous and crowded wedding hall. The white and gold marble floor stretched across the entire room, while multiple diamonds came together to form a giant chandelier that hung over the hundreds of tables that had been decorated with shiny silverware and pristine white roses. The people were just as decorated as the furniture, with their elegant gowns and glamorous jewellery.

At the sound of the doors opening, the once chattering crowd silenced, opting to sneak glances at Jungkook and his friend instead. Hushed whispers echoed around the hall as Jungkook straightened his back and held his head high before making his way to the centre of the room. Behind him, Taehyung took his place, his outgoing and extroverted personality tucked away to look just as regal and intimidating as the groom. The crowd began gathering on either side of the aisle, clearly excited for the bride who had been scheduled to appear any second now.

Most men’s hearts would be racing during a time like this, Jungkook thought distantly, eyes focused on the aisle as well. Marriage to others was supposed to symbolise unwavering love and devotion. But not for him. For him marriage was simply a contract, a means to an end that he hoped would lessen the burden of a number of challenges. In a world like this, there was no such thing as love.

Only power.

The sound of the double doors opening pulled him from his thoughts, with two professionally dressed workers fixing them on either side so that they remained open this time. Jungkook watched a pair of women in what seemed like light pink bridesmaid dresses trail behind two girls who couldn’t have been more than five throwing white and light pink flower petals in the air. Behind the entourage was a figure drenched in white.

You walked slowly into the room, your glimmering white dress trailing behind you as a thick white veil draped over your face and the front of your dress. Jungkook could only make out your hands clutching a small bouquet of white roses while your arm looped around your father’s, who was slowly guiding you down the aisle. Despite the aid, he couldn’t help but notice an uneasiness to your steps and a slight shake in your hands.

The crowd’s gaze stayed fixed on your figure, drinking in the Jeon Jungkook’s soon to be wife. There were some gasps of astonishment at the beauty of your dress and figure, while there were some gasps of jealousy towards the woman who was taking Jungkook off the market. You didn’t seem to pay them any attention as your head stayed fixed in front of you, focusing on not falling as you continued through the aisle.

To Jungkook, it felt like years had passed before you finally reached the small steps leading to the stage he was standing on, your bridesmaids taking their places on the opposite side of where Taehyung was standing. Your father unlooped his arm from yours and stepped back to sit on one of the seats that had been reserved for him, leaving you to hesitantly step onto the stage yourself. Your heel wobbled as you brought your foot forward and Jungkook knew exactly what would happen before it did.

He watched your heel slip sideways, causing you to careen to your right under the heaviness of your dress. But before you could crash into the large pots of white roses, Jungkook shot forward so that his hand could grab your waist, hoisting you up to prevent you from falling. The crowd swooned at the gesture, murmuring about its romantic nature, though all Jungkook could wonder was how you’ve been surviving in a mafia family for so long. Taehyung had only said you were dumb, not a complete klutz too.

He could feel the warmth of your delicate hand on his shoulder as he guided you up the steps, only letting go of you once the two of you were facing the patiently waiting priest. Once he had motioned for everyone to sit, he began his sermon in an obnoxiously boring voice. Jungkook had no particular interest in paying attention to a speech he had listened to multiple times growing up. Instead, he took the chance to survey you briefly. With your veil still hiding your face, he could only take in your perfect figure and pristine skin.

Eventually, the priest asked you to remove your veil, to which you complied slowly. Taehyung came forward, offering to take the bouquet in your hands while your bridesmaids helped you hesitantly lift the soft white cloth over your head.

A wave of hushed whispers spread throughout the crowd at the sight of your face, one that caught Jungkook off guard. Your eyes had been lined with a light liner, while your lips and cheeks had been made to look dainty. Your hair fell from the top of your head to your shoulders, styled in a way that framed your features and neck. Jungkook noticed a small silver necklace in the shape of a heart resting against your exposed collarbone.

Your makeup made you look so innocent and… young. Jungkook almost wanted to pull Taehyung’s parents aside and confirm that you really were twenty three and not some nineteen year old. It was a bit of a turn off, he realised, slightly bothered by the fact. As a twenty six year old, he obviously wasn’t into teenagers, so he didn’t know what having a wife that looked like one was going to do for him.

Then again, he wasn’t marrying you for some kind of gratification. He was marrying you because he needed to form a strong alliance between your father’s gang and his so that he could be, or at the very least appear, stronger than the Mins and Parks. You were nothing more than a path to more power and, aside from upholding his responsibilities as a husband, he would treat you as such.

As the priest continued to drone on, Jungkook continued to analyse your form. He watched your eyes stay focused on the priest before they strayed, hesitantly landing on Jungkook for a split second. When you noticed his gaze already on you, a small squeak sounded from your lips before you quickly shifted your focus forward. With the bouquet of flowers now hanging from Taehyung’s hand, your own fingers were clasped awkwardly in front of you.

You were apparently everything Taehyung had painted you as earlier, Jungkook thought. Your makeup and mannerisms had an air of exaggerated innocence, while your body language was shy and sheepish. He had no problem imagining you as a weak girl that was so traumatised by the death of your first husband that you couldn’t utter a single word the following month.

The priest turned to the seated crowd, beckoning anyone that had an issue with the marriage to step forward and speak their mind. Just as Jungkook expected, no one dared make a stand, preferring to cherish the connection between their head and neck instead. Following the silence, you and Jungkook were made to stand facing each other.

Your gaze was fixed on his collar, seemingly too shy to meet Jungkook’s eyes. It only confirmed his suspicions regarding your confidence, or lack thereof.

Yet, despite your evidently timid nature and lack of intelligence, Jungkook couldn’t help but experience an uncanny feeling lingering at the back of his mind. Perhaps it was his untrusting nature, or maybe he had just been forced to over analyse you during the long and boring sermon. But he could have sworn that there was something about you. Just… something about the way you had trouble meeting his gaze yet seemed to have no problem in scanning Taehyung up and down. For a fraction of a moment, the look in your eyes was almost calculated, as if you had been assessing him. But just as fast as Jungkook thought he saw it, the look disappeared, replaced by a timid and shy gaze once again. It left him questioning whether he had even seen it in the first place, or whether he was letting paranoia see things that weren’t there.

Finally, the priest turned to the two of you and made you both say your vows outloud. They were the standard vows, Jungkook and you putting no effort in creating a confession that you both knew was ingenuine. Instead, the two of you repeated after him, answering “I do” when the time was right. Jungkook was glad that, despite your seemingly ditzy nature, you hadn’t requested any giant romantic gestures. According to your father, you had even had no problem with Jungkook requesting that there be no kiss at the altar. It made his life a lot easier and truthfully made this entire situation a lot less awkward.

To Jungkook’s relief, the priest finally addressed the crowd once more, ending the sermon on a final note filled with hope and prosperity. He spoke about how the marriage would strengthen the two mafias, mitigating worries relating to attacks from enemies that may wish to harm them. Jungkook had already expected this part of the speech, as he had been the one to tell the priest to say those exact words.

At the end of the sermon, Jungkook and you were made to walk down the aisle back to where he knew his expensive car was waiting. He turned to you, looping his arm around yours so that you wouldn’t fall again, and guided you down the steps slowly. He noticed that your every step was still wobbly and he could feel your hand shaking as you placed it on his bicep to steady yourself further. But this time, with the veil now draped behind you, he could see the distress in your face as well. Your eyes were wide as you took in the crowd surrounding you, looking as naive as Taehyung had made you out to be.

Jungkook tried to remind himself of Taehyung’s words. About how you had barely been able to pass high school and then completely dropped out of university a month in. About how your style consisted of pink and frilly clothes that didn’t have much place in the mafia. About how, at this moment, you seemed almost scared of the crowd and attention.

A girl like that was shy and naive and ditzy. Aside from being slightly irritating, that meant you couldn’t be much of a threat to him or anyone else. If anything your incompetence would be a threat to your own self. Jungkook had nothing to worry about when it came to you.

So he tried not to be unsettled.

He tried not to be unsettled by the fact that, despite your apparently innocent and weak nature, your fingers were gripping into his bicep so hard he would no doubt wake up with a bruise tomorrow morning.

He tried not to be unsettled by the way your shy gaze, which stayed fixed on the floor, would sometimes stray upwards to almost study the crowd around you before quickly darting back to the ground.

He tried not to be unsettled when you looked up at him to give him a bashful smile, one that the logical part of him agreed looked sweet and innocent enough.

Yet, why did another part of him wonder whether there had been something else lurking behind those seemingly innocent eyes?

The only thing that Jungkook had learned about you from the car ride was that your voice was as light and soft as your appearance.

The ride in his black car decorated with gleaming small white roses and ribbons had been mostly silent, the two of you making no effort to start a conversation. Jungkook had never been one for small talk, more than content to let Taehyung talk for hours instead. The reason for your lack of conversation, though, was unknown to him.

It was only when he was speeding through the highway that you had spoken to request that he slow down a bit. Your voice had been soft and timid, as if you were scared that Jungkook would lash out at you for the simple request. Or maybe that was just the way you spoke. Considering your personality, Jungkook wouldn’t find that too hard to believe.

Now the two of you walked through the entrance of his home, your eyes taking in the grandeur of it all. Despite its vastness, Jungkook felt that this was where he felt the most comfortable: between the white and fawn walls, the elaborately designed bannisters, and the creme marble floors. His home had remained the only constant in his life and, because of that, he cherished it immensely.

There were only a few people that Jungkook had allowed inside, all of whom were people that he trusted with his life. This was the first time, he realised, that someone outside of those few was stepping foot onto the marble floor and laying their eyes on the spiralling staircase. It was an odd feeling, allowing you to enter into what he felt was the only place that truly allowed his mind and body to relax.

He observed your reaction curiously, taking in your wide eyes. They bounced from one thing to the next, each structure seeming to fascinate you more and more. He still couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were assessing the space, but the logical part of him kept trying to reassure himself that you couldn’t possibly be considered any kind of threat.

The sound of the door opening behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He turned around to find Taehyung walking through the doorway, a particular look on his face. Jungkook recognised it right away, causing him to turn to you for a moment while calling over one of the maids.

“Get her to the bedroom,” Jungkook commanded the maid as Taehyung stepped beside him, “and help her take off her makeup and dress into something comfortable.”

The maid nodded before she began to guide you up the flight of stairs, pointing out a few directions here and there to get you comfortable with the new environment. Jungkook watched you look back at him and Taehyung for a split second, an unreadable look in your eyes, before you faced forward once again and allowed yourself to be dragged away wordlessly.

Once you had disappeared up the stairs, Jungkook turned to Taehyung with a raised eyebrow.

“Well?” He prodded.

Taehyung glanced at the top of the stairs to make sure you really were gone, “I should be asking you that. What do you think of her?”

Jungkook mulled over his question for a moment, “she seems to be everything you said she is. Although, are you sure-”

“She is one hundred percent twenty three years old. I triple checked that one,” Taehyung said immediately, hands up in a gesture of surrender.

Jungkook let his hands nestle into his pockets, wondering if he should bring up his other concerns as well. Uptil now, you haven’t actually done or said anything worth garnering suspicion. Jungkook just seemed to be picking up on small things here and there, but he wasn’t sure if those things were just him being paranoid or genuinely things that he should be cautious over. This whole marriage thing was proving to be a lot more confusing than he had initially thought.

“What is it?” Taehyung asked, noticing his friend’s silence. Jungkook hesitated for a moment, but, after earning a questioning look from Taehyung, he relented slightly.

“How well of a background check did your parents do on her?” Jungkook asked cautiously. He didn’t want Taehyung to know too much of how he was feeling at the moment, in case this was just his mind being overactive, but something in Taehyung’s expression seemed to indicate that he knew a lot more than what Jungkook was letting on.

“They did a very thorough one, of course,” Taehyung said, eyeing Jungkook knowingly, “you know my parents. If there’s one thing that they’re the best at, it’s uncovering people’s secrets.”

Then he added with a smile, “couldn’t get away with much while growing up because of it.”

Jungkook let his gaze wander around the room, “I just…”

“You’re just suspicious of her,” Taehyung finished, causing Jungkook to look his way, “of course you’re suspicious Jungkook, you’re letting a girl that you’ve never even met before into your house for the first time. It’s a natural reaction, especially considering how untrusting we’ve been conditioned to be since we were young.”

Taehyung clapped Jungkook on the back reassuringly, “I was the exact same way when I married Chaewon. Hell, in our first year of being married I even accused her of being a traitor when she was planning a surprise party for my birthday. When she finally told me… man, it took me a whole year to make it up to her. On another note, from a married man to a newly married man, don’t accuse your wife of anything unless you’re a hundred and ten percent sure of it. Otherwise you’ll never hear the end of it.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, causing Taehyung to laugh.

“Besides, have you seen Y/N? She’s so shy and naive, her own reflection in the mirror must frighten her. I doubt you have anything to worry about, especially after my parents’ background check. Just enjoy yourself, man, it’s your wedding night,” Taehyung said with a knowing smirk.

Obviously ignoring the suggestive comment, Jungkook nodded, finding logic in Taehyung’s other words. Jungkook had never been married, all of this was new to him. But if Taehyung, who had been married for almost a decade, said feelings like this were normal, then maybe he really was just being overly paranoid about the situation. You’d had a thorough background check done, which revealed nothing, and your personality was quite clear to Jungkook after he’d observed you at the wedding.

It was time Jungkook started trying to enjoy this marriage as much as he could. He was going to be stuck with you indefinitely, and constantly being suspicious of you was only going to wear him out, especially since you now had access to the only place he allowed himself to be free of the constantly vigilant and calculating mind that came with being the leader of the Jeons.

Jungkook turned to Taehyung, about to thank him for the insight, but the sound of the door opening once again caused the two to shift their gaze to behind them. The sight of the man walking through the doorway immediately had Jungkook wrinkling his nose in distaste while Taehyung’s expression had become a distant neutral. The man didn’t seem to mind the reactions if he noticed them, casually strolling deeper into the house until he was standing before the two.

“Jungkook, Taehyung,” Daehyun nodded, the respectful gesture somehow seeming more disrespectful if anything. He had clearly just come back from the wedding, still wearing his black suit and light brown hair styled back, “you just got married, yet I see only Taehyung and no bride. Shall I assume the two of you are running away together?”

The tasteless joke was followed by a deep laugh, one that belonged to neither Jungkook nor Taehyung. Instead they just stared at him with an unamused scowl.

“Relax, it’s only a joke,” he shook his head, gaze wandering the place casually, “I doubt your wife and kid would like the thought of that anyway.”

Taehyung’s jaw ticked at Daehyun’s words. Even if he hadn’t directly threatened or disrespected them in any way, just the mention of his family from his mouth was enough for Taehyung’s gaze to turn icy.

“Careful Daehyun, you’re standing before two mafia leaders,” Taehyung said, voice low and intimidating, “I would be less casual in our presence if I were you.”

To Taehyung and Jungkook’s dismay, Daehyun simply chuckled, “ah yes, but Jungkook and I are cousins. He’ll cut me some slack, won’t he?”

Jungkook didn’t answer, even after Daehyun gave his arm a lighthearted punch. Daehyun was the cousin that Jungkook could never be rid of, no matter how badly he wanted to. He was slimy and tactless and everything Jungkook hated rolled into one unbearable being. Having to give him access to his home, his only place of peace, had been one of the hardest things to do. But at the time, Jungkook had had to make sacrifices and this had been one of them.

Daehyun, undeterred by his cousin’s lack of response, leaned his arm on Jungkook’s shoulder casually, “congratulations by the way. When I saw your wife’s face- god did she look young! You’re so lucky man, I hope my future wife turns out like that.”

Jungkook grimaced as he suddenly felt the desire to wipe off any remnants of Daehyun’s touch from his suit. Daehyun had attended the same university as Taehyung and Jungkook, yet he had evidently obtained none of the class that they had. Everyday he wondered how the two of them could possibly be related. For the sake of Jungkook’s mental wellbeing, sometimes he liked to imagine Daehyun had actually been adopted and his parents had simply decided not to share that piece of information.

“I should get going,” Jungkook said stiffly, brushing his cousin’s arm off his shoulder. He fixed his suit as Daehyung smirked at him, likely thinking of Jungkook’s comment as more suggestive than he had actually meant.

Jungkook faced Taehyung to give him a curt nod before he turned and began walking up the stairs, not bothering to use the fawn iron bannisters on either side of him. He could hear Taehyung taking his leave through the front door, dragging a complaining Daehyun behind him to Jungkook’s satisfaction. The sound of the front door shutting had never sounded so delightful.

A silence ensued as Jungkook walked through the hallway upstairs, continuing until he paused in front of his bedroom’s door. He couldn’t hear any noises coming from inside the room, so, with a light knock against the white and fawn wood, his hand wrapped around the handle to turn it and finally push the door open.

The windows displayed an almost set sun, coating the atmosphere in a blanket of dimness. Everything about his bedroom had been changed. His once dark brown and white bed had been switched out for a cream and fawn coloured one, with a bouquet of vibrant red roses sitting atop the fancy and plush duvet, while his black leather couches had been replaced by light cloth ones. The ceiling and walls had been painted white, complimenting the new white and fawn patterned marble floor. His old dresser had also disappeared, a cream coloured dresser twice its size sitting in its place instead.

Aside from the drastic changes that had been made to his bedroom, no doubt to signify the change that came with marriage, the first thing Jungkook noticed was the maid who was drawing the curtains closed. The room would have fallen into complete darkness if it weren’t for the lamps sitting atop the bedside tables which were emanating a warm light around the space.

The second thing he noticed was you, who was sitting timidly on the edge of the bed and facing him. Your fingers were playing awkwardly in front of you while your gaze had been fixed on the floor, but at the sound of the door opening, your head raised to look at Jungkook. The sight of your face once again caught him off guard, the lack of makeup revealing a different side of you.

You no longer looked young. Without the innocent look that had been created with the blushes and the eyeliners and the lip glosses, Jungkook could see the mature shape of your eyes and the defined look of your features. You looked your age now, a lot more maturity prominent in your appearance.

You were pretty. Jungkook could admit that much now that you didn’t resemble a teenager. He wondered why you had done your makeup like that in the first place. He’d been to many weddings before and none of the brides had been made to look so young. Then again, Taehyung had already told him that, on top of looking innocent and naive, you seemed to dress the part as well.

“Is something wrong?” Your soft voice asked, eyes blinking innocently up at him.

Jungkook shook his head, motioning for the maid to leave the room. She gave you both a low bow before scurrying out the doorway, making sure to close the door behind her.

“No,” he finally answered. For the first time in a long time he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He wasn’t sure if you were expecting anything to happen tonight, or if you even wanted anything to happen for now.

His gaze lowered as he mulled over his next actions. You had changed out of your wedding dress into a light pink, mesh lace nightgown that came all the way down to your knees with a silk bow stitched into the centre of your chest, as if your clothes were meant to compensate for the lack of makeup dolling up your features. He almost wanted to raise an eyebrow at you, but you seemed much too fragile to be ridiculed.

Alternatively, he decided to take an experimental step in your direction, surveying your reaction closely. He watched your fingers close tighter around the duvet on which you sat, your gaze hesitantly darting everywhere but him. That was answer enough for him to know how far you were ready to take it tonight. So instead, he passed the bed, opting instead to drop onto the couch on the far end of the room. While he was facing you, you had to turn your head to keep him in your sights.

“What would you like to do now?” He asked you, resting an arm over the back of the couch while he crossed an ankle over his knee.

Your gaze dropped to your lap, watching your fingers fidget against each other nervously. It was almost as if having to answer a question like that had you stressed, which again made Jungkook wonder how you had survived growing up in a mafia family. How could you have been this weak?

“I-I don’t know,” you squeaked, not able to meet his gaze.

Jungkook sighed, turning his head to the side to survey the room. Technically, the two of you could just call it a night and go to sleep. You were clearly too shy to even speak a word to him, and Jungkook had never been one to beg others for things. Only time would tell how well the two of you would get to know each other.

But then Jungkook’s gaze dropped to the coffee table in front of him, noticing some sort of gift basket placed in its centre. It was obviously a wedding gift, filled with chocolates, scented candles, roses… and some wine and champagne. Jungkook has always been more of a whiskey guy, but right now he’d take just about anything.

“Why don’t we have a drink?” He suggested, uncrossing his leg so that he could lean forward and grab the top of the expensive-looking bottle of red wine. He prayed you weren’t one of those people that didn’t drink, your innocent personality couldn’t possibly extend all the way to drinking as well.

You paused for a moment, taking in the bottle in Jungkook’s hand, before slowly nodding your head, to Jungkook’s relief.

He beckoned you over with his free hand, “come here.”

You hesitated before slowly pushing yourself off the bed and took small steps towards him. Jungkook waited patiently until you were standing right in front of the couch, hands clasped shyly in front of you while your gaze stayed glued to the floor. He held up the bottle of wine and champagne in front of you, hoping you weren’t so dumb that you wouldn’t understand the question in his actions. Thankfully you studied the two bottles before a shaky hand raised and tapped against the bottle of champagne.

He pushed the bottle in your direction, forcing you to take it in your own hands, before standing up from the couch. The unexpected action seemed to scare you, causing you to immediately take a timid step backwards while you hugged the bottle to your chest. Jungkook had to suppress a tired, and maybe even slightly annoyed sigh, as he manoeuvred past you. He was trying to be patient, but this was becoming ridiculous.

“You get that open while I wash up,” he said to you, pointing at the bottle still pressed to your chest, “okay?”

You nodded slowly, allowing him to turn away from you and walk into the joint bathroom. Once the door was closed behind him he let out the sigh he had suppressed earlier. You really were… something. He couldn’t believe he had been suspicious of you earlier when you could barely even function properly, much less be any sort of threat. It was irritating, Jungkook felt, to have someone so incompetent for a wife. He wondered if he would have to break you out of that shell. You were the wife of a mafia leader now after all, you had to keep up at least some air of confidence in the presence of others so that you didn’t make him look weak.

Jungkook walked over to the sink and turned it on, splashing some cold water on his face before he began brushing his teeth. You were far from his ideal type, and he doubted this marriage would ever stem into whatever Taehyung and Chaewon had going on. Hell, he was wondering how the two of you could ever even produce an heir. You’d probably spontaneously combust if he even tried to touch you. And besides, he didn’t really want to touch you if he was being honest. You reminded him too much of a weak and helpless child, which was obviously a huge turn off. He may have been a mafia leader, but he wasn’t a complete monster.

Jungkook placed his toothbrush into the holder after spitting into the sink, drying himself off with one of the towels hanging near him. He was about to start changing into more comfortable clothes, only getting as far as unbuttoning the first few buttons of his black collar shirt, before a crashing sound rang from the bedroom. In less than a second he had pushed out of the bathroom, immediately scanning the bedroom before him as his hand automatically sought out the gun at his side.

It took him a moment to realise the lack of intruders in the room, and then another to take in your completely unharmed form. You were standing with your hands covering your mouth, looking down at the ground. Jungkook followed your gaze to find the champagne bottle rolling along the marble floor, still entirely intact. You had clearly dropped the thing accidentally, causing Jungkook to place his gun back in his waistband.

“I’m s-so sorry,” you squeaked, bending down quickly to pick up the bottle. Suppressing a huff, Jungkook walked over to you to take it from your hands.

“Here, let me do it,” he said, taking two of the crystal champagne flutes from the gift basket and placing them on the glass coffee table as he sat himself down on the couch, distantly annoyed at the fact that you couldn’t even pour a glass of champagne by yourself. Was this seriously what he was going to have to deal with from now on?

He tipped the bottle, filling both glasses to the brim with the bubbling liquid as you hesitantly sat yourself down on the couch to his left. His gaze fell on you as he was about to offer you one of the flutes, but paused when he noticed the look on your face. For the first time since he met you, you looked almost… excited. Usually your eyes would be downturned and focused on the floor, but this time they were fixed on the crystal glasses before you as if you were eager to taste the expensive liquid. Jungkook made a note of it, tucking it into the back of his mind for later.

“Take one,” he said as he motioned towards one of the glasses, but to his surprise you hesitantly shook your head. Your expression had turned timid once again, any hint of excitement from earlier entirely gone. He narrowed his eyes at you as he wondered if he had just imagined it. It had barely been there anyway.

“I don’t drink,” you said in your signature soft tone, not able to meet his gaze. Of course you don’t, Jungkook thought irritatedly, god forbid the princess touch a glass of champagne. He knew the thought was immature, but there was no way he was the most immature person in the room at the moment.

He pushed himself off the couch, very much aware that his patience was starting to wear thin, “well then I guess we should call it a night.”

But before he could step towards the bed, your hand shot out, clutching the edge of his sleeve with your fingers. He immediately looked down at your still seated form, a question in his eyes. You had to look away for a moment, seemingly collecting your nerves, before you met his gaze once again.

“Just because I don’t drink doesn’t mean you can’t,” you said, “I don’t want you not to enjoy yourself because of me. Please stay.”

Jungkook noticed the evident guilt in your eyes as your fingers continued to stay enclosed around the edge of his sleeve. When he didn’t move, you hesitantly leaned forward to gently pick up one of the glasses and then slowly presented it to him. His gaze shifted to the glass in your hand, pausing for only a moment, before he took it from you. He let himself sink back onto the couch as he studied you.

You continued to sit in your spot on the sofa, posture still timid. Your gaze bounced from one part of the floor to the next, while your expression remained shy. But there was something else lurking behind the expression. If Jungkook focused well enough, he could have sworn the edges of your lips were turned slightly upwards. It was so faint that it might have not even been there, but the more he focused, the more prominent it became to him.

A naive part of him might have thought it was from being successful in getting him to stay and have the drink, but the more logical part of him had already latched onto an idea, one that refused to be swept to the side any longer.

His gaze lowered to your collarbone, a glint from the heart-shaped necklace resting over your soft skin catching his attention. Unlike earlier, he noticed that the metal heart was actually a locket, and that its two sides were slightly open. It couldn’t have been ajar by more than a millimetre, but Jungkook still noted it down in his mind.

His gaze then ascended to your face, still a perfect picture of innocence. Your eyes were widened to resemble a curious doe, while your lips were pulled into a timid line. The hands resting in your lap fumbled with each other shyly, really completing the look.

Finally, his gaze dropped to the drink in his hand. He brought it closer to his face, as if he were about to take a sip, before eyeing the expensive liquid. His gaze fixed on the miniscule bubbles that continued travelled from the bottom of the flute to its surface, causing it to sizzle.

Jungkook slowly leaned forward, keeping his eye on his drink as he brought it away from his lips and instead calmly set it down on the coffee table before him. He then easily pushed himself off of the couch, which caused your brows to jump. There was an apparent question in your expression, one you decided to voice out loud.

“Is something wrong with the drink?” You asked, voice still soft as your doe eyes looked up at him through your lashes.

Ignoring the question, Jungkook placed a hand on the edge of the coffee table and slowly pushed it forward so that it was farther away from your seated form. The action caused you to blink.

“Is everything okay?” You tried again slowly.

But Jungkook then faced you, assessing you for a moment, before he took a few steps in your direction. You had to crane your neck upwards to continue meeting his gaze, his tall form towering over your seated one. This time your brows pulled together, eyes still doe-like, as you continued to question his actions.

“Jungko-”

Jungkook didn’t let you finish. The second you opened your mouth his large hand suddenly shot out and grabbed your neck, slamming your head into the seat of the couch. You squeaked at the sudden violence, immediately clawing at the fingers now enclosed around your throat. But your efforts were nothing in comparison to Jungkook’s iron hold.

“J-Jungkook, you’re h-hurting me!” You let out a choked cry, continuing to put up a weak fight against Jungkook. Tears had already started to coat your eyes and run down your cheeks, but Jungkook ignored them completely. He watched you struggle, fascinated by the way you thrashed around like an animal yet every jab at him was weak and ineffective. There was no sign of the strength he had noticed when you had grabbed onto his bicep earlier, so hard that he was sure it would leave a bruise. It was enough to make him grin.

Jungkook lowered his face so that his lips neared your ear, his body still hovering over your smaller form.

“If you wanted to kill me princess, you’ll have to do a better job than that,” he said, voice low. Your eyes widened even further as you continued to struggle against him, making pitiful noises that didn’t move him in the slightest.

“K-Kill?! What are y-you talking about?!” You continued to choke out as tears streamed down your cheeks. Your hands had moved to his chest, desperately trying to push him away, yet failing miserably in the process. Jungkook tilted his head at your weak plea, eager to hear what other ways you’d beg him to let you go.

“P-please-” You began, but then cut yourself off abruptly when your tear-filled gaze met his. You must have seen something in his eyes, because he felt your body slacken, no longer desperate to fight him despite his hold on your neck cutting off your lung’s supply of air.

Instead you studied him, really studied him. He could see the same calculated look you had used on Taehyung earlier during the wedding. It was as if you were assessing Jungkook, picking out his strengths and weaknesses to figure out how you could use them to your advantage. He watched you weigh options in your head patiently before you finally tilted your head to the side calmly and shot him a look. In response, Jungkook decided to loosen his grip on your throat. He watched you catch your breath for a moment before you spoke.

“Well, you’re already smarter than the first one,” you commented, but your voice was entirely different. It was no longer soft and timid, rather it was a lot more deep and confident. He watched your expression change in the same manner. Your once wide and innocent looking eyes narrowed into a more matured look, while your lips straightened into more of a dangerously amused grin than a naive pout.

Then he processed your words. The ‘first one’ had to be your first husband, who Taehyung had explained had been killed on his wedding day. Taehyung had mentioned that a rival gang had been the one to murder him, but the actual one responsible for his death was clear to Jungkook now.

“Do you make it a hobby to poison your husbands’ drinks on their wedding nights?” He asked, hand still wrapped around your throat. He had situated himself between your legs, his own leg pushing one of yours against the back of the couch while his free hand pushed the other down against the seat of the couch. The position ensured you wouldn’t be able to kick him, while his body hovering over your own seemed to take care of the rest of you. You were smart enough not to try anything anyway, knowing Jungkook’s strength was incomparable to yours.

You shrugged, panting at the limited oxygen entering your lungs, “golf just wasn’t cutting it for me anymore.”

“Golf? How can a weak and helpless girl like you play such a sport?” Jungkook couldn’t help but quip, bordering on mocking you. It only made you grin, clearly no hint of offence in your expression.

He studied your nonchalant demeanour curiously. You had tried to kill him, and he should send your head back to your father’s doorstep for it. And yet, you couldn’t have looked any less composed with his hand around your neck. Either you were a complete idiot, which seemed much less likely now that he was starting to see your real character, or you believed you had the upper hand in this situation.

“You’re quite calm for someone I should have killed,” he noted, meaning for it to be a threat. But once again you didn’t seem deterred. In fact, the comment seemed to amuse you even more.

“Just because you should have me killed doesn’t mean you’ll actually have me killed.”

Jungkook’s brow raised, finding an opportunity to prod you further, “and why won’t I have you killed? Your father sent you here to kill me under the pretence of an alliance. I should start a war for this.”

You nodded, “but you see, my father did send me here to form an alliance. The whole killing you idea was all mine.”

Jungkook scoffed at the lame attempt at a lie, “you expect me to believe that?”

But you scoffed as well, meeting his gaze just as vehemently. It was an odd sight considering you had spent the entire day trying to make yourself small and avoiding his gaze. Yet here you were now, eyes ablaze like a thrashing fire. Not a spontaneously violent fire either, no Jungkook could very easily handle that. You were more like an electrical fire. It was becoming increasingly apparent that he had to be cautious around you, and that trusting any word that came out of your mouth was dangerous.

“Prove it then,” he challenged, tightening his hold on your neck for a moment to remind you of your vulnerability.

“I don’t need to prove anything,” you said, a hand coming up to wrap around his wrist, “just go ahead and mention to my father that I’m not a complete airhead that’s afraid of her own shadow. He’ll laugh in your face and call you a moron.”

The revelation that your father was just as clueless about your true self as everyone else only confirmed his initial thoughts. It also proved he couldn’t have trusted you to carry out an assassination attempt, meaning your father really did genuinely want an alliance with the Jeons. That was perfect, because Jungkook had certain plans that relied on this partnership. It was a relief that they hadn’t gone to waste.

“If it wasn’t your father’s idea, then why did you poison my drink?” He asked with a raised brow.

Silence filled the room following his question, one that allowed you both to hear the sounds of the wall clock. He got the feeling that you were contemplating something once again, planning out your next move.

Then you squirmed underneath him, seemingly getting comfortable, but Jungkook knew better than to believe whatever you appeared as. The second your hand went for the gun wedged in his waistband, he grabbed your wrist, pining it against the couch, while the hand that had been around your throat pulled out the matte black weapon. He slowly brought it to your temple with an amused grin.

“If you wanted it so badly, you could have just asked,” he taunted, bringing the gun down so that its barrel lifted your chin, “now, I asked a question princess.”

You huffed, your amusement finally falling to give him a half-hearted glare.

“I want a divorce.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the laugh that sounded from his lips at your straightforwardness. You just tried to kill him, it didn’t take a genius to work out that you weren’t a fan of this marriage and wanted out of it.

It was an arranged marriage after all, and even though all arranged marriages didn’t equal a forced marriage, technically he couldn’t be certain that this marriage was of your own choice or not. For all he knew, you had some secret lover waiting for you back home, your marriage with Jungkook coming between the star crossed romance. The thought made his jaw tick. He was far from in love with you, but Jungkook tended to be territorial about what was his. And you were his wife at the moment.

You, on the other hand, seemed surprised by his reaction, as if it was the last thing you expected him to do.

“I mean you obviously want one now too, right?” You asked with your brows furrowed.

Jungkook didn’t respond, and that only seemed to make you more agitated.

“I’m not the wife that you want. You clearly can’t stand me when I have my ditzy front pulled up and you can’t trust me when I don’t.”

Although the points that you were making were true, there was one important factor you were missing, and that was the alliance between the Jeons and the Lees. Jungkook needed this alliance to, at the very least make himself seem like, he was more powerful than the Parks and the Mins. And with their recent moves -with what he saw at the docks just last night- he needed this alliance now more than ever. So while he normally would have had you executed and then sent your head to your father’s doorstep for your little assassination attempt, this time he was going to have to sweep his pride to the side.

Jungkook placed his free hand next to your head as he pushed himself up, choosing instead to stay standing in front of the sofa. His intense gaze dropped to your still form while his gun hung from his fingers firmly.

“No,” he finally said, causing your brows to jump.

You quickly pushed yourself off the couch to stand just as he was, but Jungkook didn’t move. With the sofa right behind you, barring you from taking a few steps back, that left you and him standing dangerously close to each other. The bow from your nightgown pressed against his partly unbuttoned black collar shirt, while its edge grazed his dress pants. Jungkook could feel the heat of your breath raise goosebumps from his exposed collarbone.

“Why not? I’m not the wife that you want.”

He smiled at the bite in your words, finding your frustration amusing, “you’ve got it all wrong. I simply wanted a wife to make the Lees allies, nothing more.”

Like a fire set alight, your eyes flashed in anger, “I won’t change. I’ll still be your idiot wife that will make you look weak.”

It was true that most wives of mafia leaders were strong and confident beings, symbols of their husbands’ power, and that having a wife like you may be a slightly risky choice. But Jungkook was sure his carefully established reputation could take the hit. Besides, although you might make him look weak, your marriage with him would make him far from actually weak.

“You think divorcing you won’t make me look weak?” Jungkook decided to say, unsure of if he was saying it to play with you more or to make sure you don’t believe your threats are inconveniencing him, “you’ve fooled everyone with your ditzy facade. A divorce will make them think I wasn’t able to tame a naive girl. You think people will accept me as a leader then?”

You didn’t react to the point, giving him the feeling that you might have already known that might pose an issue for him. Perhaps you thought his reputation could take the hit? When Jungkook really thought about it, it probably could have. He’d worked hard to be both feared and respected for years, a divorce like this, while questionable in the eyes of the people under him, could have been pushed under the rug given time. But the alliance was too important to him.

And that was something he needed to make sure you knew.

“That means you will continue to be my wife,” he settled, lowering his gaze so that it met yours with unwavering finality, “so you’ll continue to act like it.”

Jungkook felt his voice naturally lower, a hint of a threat evident in his tone, “listen to me well, Y/N. I don’t care if you act like the dumbest woman on Earth or the most sultry. Regardless, what you will act like is my wife. When we’re outside of this bedroom, we will laugh together, we will hug each other, and we will do whatever other damn thing married couples do so that no one doubts this relationship.”

“And if I don’t?” You bit, the speed of your reply making his jaw tick.

“If you don’t, you can stay locked in this bedroom until you learn how to behave. Understood?”

Your rage couldn’t have been more prominent, with a fierce glare burning right through him and a pair of fisted hands at your sides. Yet Jungkook ignored it all, instead meeting your gaze coolly as he waited for your confirmation.

It took a long moment to come, so long that Jungkook thought it wasn’t going to come at all. But eventually he noticed you nod your head. It was barely a movement, your head tipping down slightly before resuming its earlier place, but it was enough for him despite your unwavering glare.

He finally took a few steps back, thrusting the barrel of his gun once again into the waistband of his pants. Your angry form, on the other hand, didn’t move, opting instead to stand perfectly still despite your calves pressing into the sofa behind you. Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, brushing the strands that had fallen onto his forehead away from his face.

“Good, then we’re done here.”

He finally turned away from you, eyeing the door on his left intently. But before he could move towards it, your words made him pause.

“I just tried to kill you,” you commented before he turned to question its randomness. He found you sitting on the sofa once again, an eerily thoughtful look lurking behind your rage-filled eyes, “how will you know I won’t do it again?”

Jungkook tilted his head in response.

“You can try all you want, princess,” he said, liking the feeling of that nickname on his tongue more and more. It was almost addicting, “but you won’t succeed.”

Then his lips curled into a sly smirk, “after all, what kind of husband would I be if I barred my wife from her hobbies?”

He was able to just barely catch the roll of your eyes before he turned and pushed through the door he had been eyeing earlier, his hands automatically locking it behind him as he casually surveyed his office. The room had been spared from the new gleaming white and fawn furniture which had taken over his bedroom. Instead, it was filled with familiar dark brown.

Refined dark oak wood shelves and cabinets lined the walls except for the wall behind his large desk, which was made up entirely of a bookshelf filled to the brim with various hardcovers. For the sake of matching with the rest of the house, the marble floor had been done a light fawn colour, while another wall was made up of bulletproof glass, its centre having the ability to slide open to reveal a decent sized balcony.

Jungkook shrugged off his blazer as he made his way to his desk, laying the piece of cloth over the back of his black leather chair, before he opened the glass cabinet behind it. He didn’t need to think much as his fingers expertly curled around an expensive bottle of whiskey and a crystal glass. Before he knew it, he found himself standing outside on his balcony overlooking his estate, one hand holding the crystal glass filled halfway with light brown liquid while the other clutched the iron railing.

His gaze bounced around his estate for a peaceful moment as he took a sip from his glass, taking in the expanse of the luscious green field bordering the neatly done driveway despite the darkness of the night. In its centre was an intricately designed white fountain spewing water in four different directions, but all of which emptied systematically into the white basin at its base. The estate itself stretched for metres, the gates enclosing the space barely visible from where he was standing. Jungkook’s thoughts bounced around his head just as quickly as his gaze.

What a day it had been. At first, you’d been a complete idiot, one that had irritated him to no extent with your doe eyes and evident shyness.

But then you had turned out to be an entirely different species, far from the innocent and ditzy girl he’d labelled you as. You were cunning and feisty and seemingly very much ready for a divorce.

Jungkook felt the corners of his lips pull upwards into a grin as he took another sip of his whisky.

You were quite the enigma.

But he was going to enjoy the challenge.

A/N: comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated!

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owarinaki · 9 months ago

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Rufus Shinra - Character design Final Fantasy VII Remake

[RUFUS RECAP] Other links

Index gifs // Trailer recap // Rufus's Story recap 1 //2 // 3

Rufus character design

Rufus Pic recap 1 // 2 // 3 // 4

Others Tseng&Rufus , Hojo&Darkstar

Ch.4 part 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 //10 // 11

Ch.6 part 12 // 13

Ch.8+9 part 14 // 15 // 16 // 17 // 18 // 22

Ch.10+11 part 19 // 20 // 21 / 23 // 24 // 25 // 26

Ch.12+13+14 part 27 // 28 // 29 // 30 // 31

Etc. : 32 // 33 // 34 // 35 // 36

#Final Fantasy VII Remake #final fantasy 7 rebirth #ffvii rebirth #ffvii remake #ff7r #ff7 remake #Final Fantasy VII #Final Fantasy #Final Fantasy 7 #ff series #ff #ff rufus #ff7 rufus #rufus shinra #games #ff games

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ye4gerz · 1 month ago

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my game, your rules. — ldh part one

‧˚⭒ pairing: lee donghyuck x afab reader 18+MDNI ‧˚⭒ genre: brothers best friend au! fake dating! friends to lovers! humor! fluff! angst! smut![later chap] adult life au! jenos sister! flirty hc! ‧˚⭒ word count: 6.2k+ ‧˚⭒ summary: you’re fed up with your family constantly telling you how to live your life, but what would they think if you showed up with your brother’s best friend as your new boyfriend? even worse—what happens when you realize you’re actually falling for him?

‧˚⭒ authors note: thank you to everyone who has been patient with me about this first chapter! i get very picky when i start a series so i want this to be good lmao. the following chapters will have more scenes of haechan & reader alone + spicy scenes. enjoy!

“You need to start dating,” Jeno declared, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed in that infuriatingly self-assured way. His tone was light, but the furrow in his brow betrayed the weight behind his words. It was the look he reserved for when he was teetering between overprotective brother and responsible older sibling, a role he took far too seriously.

“You know, focus on your future. Relationships are part of growing up,” he continued, his voice a mix of concern and exasperation. “You’re always so… wrapped up in your career goals, like it’s the only thing that matters.”

You didn’t bother to look up from your water, slowly stirring the cup in circles just to give your hands something to do. It was easier to focus on the swirling liquid than on the predictable lecture coming from across the kitchen.

“Because it is the only thing that matters,” you muttered, finally glancing up at him.

Jeno shook his head, letting out a sigh that sounded like he’d been holding it in for days. “See, that’s the problem. You don’t even let yourself breathe. You’re like this… robot. You study, you work, you plan, but you never actually live.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against the counter with a scoff. “I’m living just fine, thanks. I don’t need a boyfriend to validate that.”

“Yeah, but fine isn’t great,” he countered, his voice tinged with frustration. “Don’t you want more than just… surviving? More than being a robot. Have some fun for once. Mom and Dad are already asking questions about your future, and honestly, I don’t know what to tell them anymore.”

There it was—the guilt card. You clenched your jaw, your grip tightening on the cup. You hated when he brought them into it.

“Tell them I’m happy focusing on my career,” you said flatly.

Jeno’s lips twitched in irritation. “You always say that like it’s the answer to everything, but you’re a full grown adult now. When are you going to start thinking about what comes after that? It’s not just about work. It’s about connecting with people, about building a life beyond just deadlines.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Easy for you to say, ‘Mr. Social Butterfly’. Not all of us have an endless pool of friends and a girlfriend who adores us.”

Jeno’s expression softened, but the determination in his eyes didn’t waver. “It’s not about comparing. It’s about balance, and you don’t have it.”

Silence hung heavy in the room as you stared at him, your mind racing. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it before—how different you were from Jeno, how you buried yourself in work and ambitions while he seemed to glide effortlessly through life with equal parts charm and ease; but that was the thing: dating, love, relationships… they felt like unnecessary complications. You couldn’t afford complications right now.

“I don’t want to date, Jeno,” you said finally, your voice quieter but no less firm. “I’m doing fine without distractions.”

Jeno watched you for a moment, his frustration giving way to something softer. A mixture of disappointment and worry settled in his eyes, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he just shook his head again, pushing off the counter and heading for the living room.

“I just don’t want you to look back one day and realize you missed out. Everyone is growing up and moving on with their lives. Don’t you want to do the same?” he said over his shoulder.

You bit the inside of your cheek, staring into your glass cup like it held the answer to everything, but all it reflected back was the swirl of water and your own reflection as you see in your face is uncertainty.

“You know, I just don’t get you sometimes,” Jeno muttered as he sat on the couch. “You work harder than anyone I know, but it’s like you never let yourself actually live your life.”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you stared into space, your earlier irritation now mingling with something heavier—jealousy.

Your brother had always been the golden child: graduating with honors, landing a stable job right after college, and maintaining a healthy, long-term relationship with his perfect girlfriend. Even now, as you both shared an apartment, Jeno somehow made time to work out, hang out with friends, and take his girlfriend on weekly dates. He was everything your parents wanted in a child, the one they bragged about during family gatherings.

And you? You’d barely made it through college. Your GPA was nothing to write home about, and the only reason you’d graduated on time was because Karina practically dragged you across the finish line. Now, you were working as a paid intern at a company you desperately wanted to stay at full-time, but no matter how many late nights you pulled, how many extra tasks you volunteered for, it felt like you were running in place.

It was exhausting, and you were tired of hearing the same thing from your family: “Look at Jeno, he’s figured it out. Why can’t you?”

“I just don’t want to waste time,” you finally said, breaking the silence.

Jeno reappeared in the doorway, now pulling a jacket over his shoulders. “What are you wasting time on?”

You hesitated, shrugging. “Anything that doesn’t help me get ahead. That’s why I don’t care about dating. It’s just… another thing to manage.”

Jeno sighed, shaking his head, but he didn’t argue this time. “Well, Karina’s got her work cut out for her keeping you sane.”

“She’s not my therapist,” you shot back, though your tone lacked bite.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he teased, grabbing his keys. “Speaking of which, we’re supposed to meet everyone at the arcade in twenty minutes. You ready?”

You glanced down at your oversized hoodie and sweatpants. “Obviously not.”

“Get changed, then. Make it quick—Mark’s always late anyway, but Haechan will make fun of you if we’re late too.”

You huffed, dragging yourself to your room to throw on something presentable. After rummaging through your closet, you found something decently acceptable and slipped it on. Jeno was right—that was something you already knew—but it wasn’t what you wanted. Why did you have to follow Jeno’s formula for life when you wanted to create your own? Just to please your parents?

You put your hair up in a clip and sighed, watching your reflection in the mirror. The smile you’d worn before this conversation had clearly faded. All you could do was your best and hope it would be enough—but for now, skee-ball sounded better.

The flashing lights and hum of arcade machines filled the air as you and Jeno stepped inside. It was lively and chaotic, with the clinking of coins, bursts of laughter, and the occasional celebratory shout from someone winning a game. You stuffed your hands into your jacket pockets, already bracing yourself for the energy of Jeno’s friend group and looking around for Karina.

Sure enough, you spotted the guys near the basketball shooting game. Chenle was locked in a heated competition with Mark, who was flailing dramatically every time he missed a shot. Haechan, of course, was standing nearby, cheering and making exaggerated comments to throw them off their game.

“You’re late!” Chenle called out, pausing mid-shot to wave as you and Jeno approached.

“And you’re losing,” Haechan teased, pointing at Chenle’s score with a smug grin.

Chenle glared at him but turned his attention back to you, his smile warming. “Hey! Looks like you finally decided to join us?”

“Not like I had a choice,” you replied dryly, nudging Jeno with your elbow.

“Aw, come on,” Mark chimed in, abandoning the game as Chenle claimed victory. “We’re way more fun than whatever you’d be doing at home.”

You shrugged. “Debatable.”

“Debatable?” Haechan repeated, his eyebrows shooting up. “You’re in the presence of greatness. We’ve got Chenle, the reigning basketball champ, Mark, the king of being–uh Mark, and me—your personal highlight of the night.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Personal highlight? You mean my personal headache.”

Haechan placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Your words wound me.”

Before the banter could continue, a familiar voice called out from behind you.

“There you are!” Karina waved excitedly as she emerged from the crowd, a handful of tokens jingling in her hand.

“Karina!” Relief flooded you as you met her halfway, grateful for the excuse to escape the chaos of Jeno’s friends for a moment.

“Sorry, boys, but she’s all mine now! We’ll be back when you finally decide to exchange your tickets into plushies for both of us,” Karina says with a grin as she takes your hand.

The guys groaned, all except Haechan, who smiled and looked directly at you. “Sounds like a challenge, but whatever you say.”

Even though you didn’t say anything, it almost felt like he made that promise just for you. Before you could respond, however, Karina had already dragged you to the other side of the arcade.

“You know,” she began as the two of you wandered toward a quieter corner of the place, “it’s kind of adorable how Haechan never stops teasing you.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Adorable is not the word I’d use. Annoying, maybe.”

Karina raised an eyebrow, a sly smile spreading across her face. “Come on, admit it. He’s kind of cute when he does it.”

“He’s not cute,” you replied quickly, but the way your lips twitched betrayed the truth.

Karina caught it immediately, letting out a dramatic gasp. “Oh my god, you’re smiling! You like it, don’t you?”

“No,” you insisted, though the small grin lingered despite your best efforts. “I just think it’s funny how full of himself he is. That’s all.”

Karina hummed, unconvinced, but thankfully didn’t press further. Instead, she dragged you toward the skee-ball machines, determined to beat your score from your last arcade outing.

After playing a few rounds of skee-ball with Karina, you found yourself back with Jeno’s group. The familiar chaos resumed as Mark and Chenle challenged each other to yet another round of basketball, their shouts and laughter echoing through the arcade. Jeno, meanwhile, had stationed himself at the claw machine, laser-focused on grabbing a plush toy for his girlfriend.

You stood off to the side, sipping on a soda, when Haechan appeared beside you.

“Not joining in?” he asked, leaning casually against the railing.

“Not really my thing,” you admitted, gesturing to the flashing chaos around you.

“Let me guess,” he said, tilting his head with a teasing grin. “You’d rather be home working, right?”

“Maybe,” you replied, narrowing your eyes at him.

Haechan shook his head, laughing softly. “You’re too predictable, ya know.”

“Excuse me?” you shot back, crossing your arms.

“I’m just saying,” he continued, his tone softer now. “You don’t always have to be locked up in your room. It’s okay to let loose every now and then.”

His gaze lingered on you a little longer than necessary, and you suddenly felt the urge to look away. There was something unnerving about how easily he could read you, something that made you feel exposed in a way you weren’t used to.

“There’s something else bothering you—I can tell. You know you can’t hide these things from me. What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone full of concern.

You didn’t know how he managed to do that so effortlessly: reading you without you having to say a word. The friendship between you two was something Jeno wasn’t really aware of. As far as your brother knew, you and Haechan were just acquaintances, but since Jeno never really tried to pay attention to your personal life, he had no idea about the real bond you shared with his best friend.

You sighed. “Jeno had a stupid talk with me about my future and our parents. Apparently, they want me to find someone to settle down with and eventually move out.”

You shrugged, your frustration evident. “It’s stupid stuff. Jeno probably just wants me to move out so he can live with his girlfriend. I don’t understand how he can live such a perfect life, but when I’m in the middle of trying to build my own, my family would rather I focus on finding a relationship instead.”

Haechan nodded, listening intently, his expression encouraging you to continue venting. “Well,” he said carefully, “what do you think you can do to calm them down a bit? I mean, I know this isn’t the first time this conversation has come up. Jen’s just worried you’ll end up alone, and as annoying as he can be, he’s only trying to protect you. You also can’t hold him back forever.”

“But that’s the thing!” you exclaimed, throwing up your hands. “I never asked for anyone to look out for me! I can handle it myself—it’ll just take time,” you huffed, frustration bubbling up inside you.

“If only I had a boyfriend so they’d lay off and let me keep doing my own thing,” you muttered, frowning.

And just like that, something shifted in Haechan’s expression. A flicker of light flashed in his eyes, his smirk softening into something more serious.

“What if we dated?” he asked.

Your jaw dropped as Haechan’s words hung in the air. For a moment, you wondered if you’d misheard him.

“W-What?” you finally managed to say, blinking at him like he’d just suggested the most absurd thing in the world.

He shrugged, his usual smirk creeping back onto his face, though his eyes held a glimmer of something softer. “I’m serious. What if we fake dated? It would solve your problem with Jeno and your parents, and you wouldn’t have to worry about them nagging you anymore.”

You stared at him, trying to make sense of his offer, trying to find the joke. “But… why? What would you even get out of it?”

Haechan leaned against the arcade railing, crossing his arms as if he had already anticipated the question. “Think about it,” he said smoothly. “If we fake date, I’ll finally have an excuse to stop all these random girls from hitting on me. They’re relentless, you know,” he added with a dramatic sigh. “Plus, it’ll be fun messing with Jeno. Watching him freak out over us? Priceless.”

You frowned, searching his face for any sign that he was joking, but he seemed completely serious—or at least as serious as Haechan could be.

He must have noticed your hesitation because he straightened up, softening his tone. “Look, you don’t have to decide right now. Think about it and text me when you’ve made up your mind. No pressure.”

Before you could respond, a familiar voice broke through the moment.

“Hey guys!” Karina called, waving excitedly as she approached with the rest of the group. “Come on, we’re heading to the ticket counter! Time to claim our winnings!”

Mark and Chenle followed behind her, grinning as they displayed their handfuls of tickets like trophies. Jeno trailed behind, already scanning the prize wall with a competitive gleam in his eye.

Haechan gave you one last look, his usual playful smirk firmly back in place, before Karina grabbed your arm and dragged you toward the prize counter.

“Come on!” she said, practically bouncing with excitement. “You and I are picking out matching plushies, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

You let yourself get pulled into the chaos, trying to shake off the conversation you’d just had with Haechan. Even as you laughed at Mark’s dramatic attempts to win more tickets and listened to Karina gush over the prizes, your mind kept circling back to Haechan’s offer.

Fake dating him? Pretending to be in a relationship with Jeno’s best friend? It was ridiculous. It would never work… would it?

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Haechan glancing at you as he helped Chenle argue with the clerk over how many tickets they actually needed for a giant stuffed bear. His expression was unreadable, but there was something about the way he looked at you that made your stomach flutter in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge.

As Karina handed you a small plush cat she’d picked out for you, you forced yourself to focus on the present. You’d think about Haechan’s offer later—when your heart wasn’t racing from his lingering gaze.

As you were getting ready to leave the arcade, you made your way around to say goodbye to everyone, saving Karina for last. She pulled you into a tight hug, her usual warmth and energy radiating.

“Chenle’s dropping me off, so no worries!” Karina reassured, squeezing your shoulder. “Goodnight, girl. I’ll text you when I’m home, okay? Love you!” With a bright smile, she walked alongside Chenle towards his car, chatting animatedly as they disappeared into the parking lot.

Jeno was already waiting in the car, the faint hum of the engine indicating he was warming it up while you finished your goodbyes. You made your way toward the passenger side, but just as you reached for the handle, someone called your name.

“Wait up!”

You turned, brows furrowed in confusion, only to see Haechan jogging up to you, his grin unmistakable even under the glow of the arcade lights.

“Before you go, I wanted to give you this,” he said, holding up a small keychain. It was a brown bear with a slightly open mouth, its expression as adorable as it was silly.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Haechan… what is this?”

“It’s the only thing I could get with my tickets,” he said with a smirk. “I told you I’d take the challenge.”

You blinked at him, your face flushing as you took the keychain from his outstretched hand. The little bear felt warm in your palm, its tiny eyes staring up at you.

“I think we should name him Gomdo,” he added, his voice light but his gaze lingering on you.

Your jaw dropped slightly, caught off guard by his thoughtfulness. “Thank you, Haechan. You didn’t have to do this.”

He shrugged, his smile softening. “Maybe I wanted to.” Then, leaning in close, he brought his lips to your ear, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Remember what we talked about. I’ll be ready to hear your answer.”

Before you could respond, he leaned back, flashing you one last smile before turning and walking away towards Mark's car, his hands casually stuffed into his pockets. You stared after him for a moment, your heart beating faster than you’d like to admit.

Feeling flustered, you tucked the little bear into your purse, its presence somehow both comforting and unnerving as you climbed into the car.

Jeno glanced at you curiously as you settled into the seat. “What was that about?”

You forced a casual chuckle, waving it off. “Oh, he just wanted to brag about how he spent his tickets.”

Jeno seemed to accept your explanation with a shrug, turning his attention back to the road as he shifted the car into gear. Meanwhile, you sat quietly, your hand brushing against your purse where Gomdo was tucked away.

Haechan’s words replayed in your mind, his grin lingering longer than you wanted it to.

You spent the entire night tossing and turning in your bed, unable to shut your mind off. Every time you closed your eyes, Haechan’s offer replayed in your head, his voice lingering in the quiet of your room. Since your shower, you’d been fixated on making a mental list of pros and cons, but the more you thought about it, the more tangled your thoughts became.

When the clock struck midnight and you were still wide awake, you reached for your phone, anxiety thrumming in your chest. Your thumb hovered over the screen as doubt clawed at you.

Would this really be the right choice? Would it even be worth it in the end?

You rationalized the situation for the hundredth time. By the time you eventually moved up in your career, you could always fake a breakup with Haechan. It could serve as a final point to your family—that you didn’t need a relationship or the promise of a family of your own to find happiness.

The thought of proving them wrong—of showing them that your career and personal goals mattered more than societal expectations—burned away your worries, leaving only determination.

Without realizing it, your fingers started moving on their own, tapping out a message on the screen. Haechan’s name sat at the top of the chat, glowing faintly in the dim light of your phone.

You: I’m in. We can start later today.

For a moment, silence stretched around you, broken only by the faint hum of your phone vibrating against your comforter a few minutes later.

HC: I knew you’d come around, babe. We’ll talk more details in the morning. Sleep well, my girlfriend ;)

You stared at the message, your lips twitching into a reluctant smile despite yourself. Leave it to Haechan to throw in a wink and a nickname like it was second nature.

Sliding your phone onto your nightstand, you sank back into your pillows, a strange mix of nerves and excitement settling over you. It wasn’t real—none of it would be real—but with Haechan officially as your unofficial boyfriend, it felt like you were stepping into something bigger than either of you realized.

And for the first time that night, your eyes grew heavy, the weight of the decision no longer keeping you awake.

“You’re what?!” Jeno’s voice shot up, laced with disbelief as he stared at the two of you in shock.

“I’m sorry, Jen,” you said, your voice wavering as you tried to sound as convincing as possible. “I really wanted to tell you earlier, but I needed to talk it over with Hyuck first.” You glanced at Haechan, hoping that using a part of his birth name might soften Jeno’s skepticism.

Haechan met your gaze with a confident smile before turning back to Jeno. Without missing a beat, he intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hand firmly. “It’s real, bro. I’m sorry we didn’t say anything sooner, but we wanted to be sure before telling you. I’ve never felt a connection like this with anyone else.”

His tone was steady and sincere as he continued. “She’s beautiful, but it’s not just that. She grounds me, man. She makes me smile, even when everything feels like it’s falling apart. She’s worth everything and more.”

For a moment, you were stunned. The way he spoke—his words, his expression—was so genuine that it made your heart skip a beat. For a split second, you almost believed him.

Jeno, however, wasn’t buying it just yet. “This is so weird,” he muttered, rubbing his temples as he took in the sight of you and Haechan holding hands. “I told you to get a boyfriend, but Haechan? Seriously? Out of all people?”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Haechan’s posture straightened, his mock offense laced with just enough humor to lighten the tension.

Jeno sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No offense, dude, but you’re the last person I’d want dating my sister. I mean, look at you two—standing there, holding hands, looking all… infatuated. It’s just—it doesn’t make sense to me.” He flopped onto the couch, his face contorted in bewilderment.

Haechan tightened his grip on your hand, his voice unwavering as he said, “Well, nothing’s going to change how I feel about her. I might be your best friend, but I promise you—I’m going to be the best, and only, boyfriend your sister will ever need.”

You took a deep breath, stepping in to support Haechan’s story. “And it’s not like we’re rushing into this, Jeno. We’ve already been on dates! Remember a few weeks ago when I left work early and told you I had a headache? That was actually because I was so nervous about a date with Hyuck that I needed extra time to get ready. Oh! And the night at the arcade! He wasn’t bragging about his tickets–he actually got me a teddy bear!”

Jeno groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. “It’s still… weird. But hey, if you’re treating her right, and if you’re both happy—who am I to judge?” He looked between the two of you, his expression still full of disbelief but softening slightly. “I guess I’ll let Mom and Dad know unless you want to do it yourselves. I just need a minute to process this…”

He stood up, shaking his head as he started to leave the room. Before walking out, he threw a glance at you and Haechan, his brows furrowing.

“You can tell them if you want,” you said, trying to sound casual. “Just make sure you tell them the most important part—we’re happy together.”

You turned to Haechan, offering him a small smile that he returned easily. For all the absurdity of this fake relationship, in that moment, it almost felt real.

Jeno shot you and Haechan one last skeptical look before heading to his room to call your parents with the news. The sound of his door locking was like a signal, and the moment it clicked, you yanked your hand out of Haechan’s grip, wiping your palm aggressively on his sleeve.

“What was that for?” he asked, feigning offense as he inspected his now slightly wrinkled sleeve.

“You have sweaty palms! At least give me a heads-up if you’re going to go completely off script!” you hissed, your voice low but sharp. “What even was all that? We practiced everything for nothing!”

Haechan leaned back, his expression unbothered. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it? He totally bought it. You’re lucky we didn’t have to pull out the photos too!”

You narrowed your eyes, his smugness only fueling your irritation. The “photos” he was referring to were ones he insisted you take during your so-called “official unofficial dates” to sell the story. At the time, you’d rolled your eyes at the idea, but Haechan had been adamant.

“What kind of relationship would we be in if we didn’t have any photos or memories together? Are you trying to get caught?” he had said during one of your early planning sessions, his tone half-joking but entirely serious.

And to your frustration, he wasn’t wrong.

“Don’t forget,” he added now, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, “those photos got you free food and drinks too. Having a girlfriend is so expensive, by the way. I should start invoicing you.”

You groaned, resisting the urge to smack his arm. “Well, luckily for you, this fake relationship has an expiration date. You won’t have to deal with me for much longer.”

Haechan rubbed the arm you’d just wiped your hand on, exaggerating the motion. “You’re the one making this hard, you know. I’m just trying to be the best fake boyfriend you’ll ever have.”

Despite yourself, a laugh slipped out, and you let out a deep breath, some of the tension from the past few weeks melting away. “In all seriousness, though,” you said, softening your tone, “I really appreciate this. I just… I need a little breathing room from them.”

Haechan’s playful expression faded, replaced by something gentler. “Hey, I get it. That’s what I’m here for, right?”

For a moment, you found yourself caught in his gaze, surprised by the sincerity in his words. Then, as if sensing the shift, he clapped his hands together and grinned. “Now, do I get a thank-you for my oscar-worthy performance, or what?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile creeping onto your face. “Thank you, Hyuck,” you muttered begrudgingly.

“Louder for the people in the back?”

“Don’t push it.”

He smiled at you, and for a brief moment, you swore your heart did something strange—something you weren’t ready to acknowledge. You quickly brushed it off, telling yourself it was just the adrenaline of lying to your brother.

A blush crept onto your face, but you shook it away, turning your attention elsewhere. “So, what’s your plan for the rest of the day?” you asked, hoping to steer the conversation to safer ground.

Haechan shrugged casually before plopping himself down on your couch. Without a second thought, he grabbed the leftover bag of chips Jeno had abandoned earlier and began munching away, his hand already reaching for the remote.

“What kind of movie are you feeling tonight?” he asked as he scrolled through Netflix like he owned the place.

You blinked at him, baffled. “Um, why? And what are you doing?”

He glanced at you, feigning innocence. “I’m your boyfriend, aren’t I? As your boyfriend, we should actually spend more time together—to, you know, make a point. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t spend time with my girl?” He punctuated the sentence with a playful wink and puckered his lips dramatically in your direction.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” you muttered, fighting back a smile as you sat down beside him. With a quick motion, you yanked the bag of chips out of his hands and into your own. “And the answer is thriller.”

A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he draped his arm lazily over your shoulders, making himself more comfortable. “Good call. If you get scared, don’t hesitate to lean on me, baby. I’ll protect you.”

“Wow, just like that, you ruined the moment,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “Now play the movie before I change my mind.”

Despite your words, you couldn’t help but feel at ease. Sitting beside him, the banter flowing so naturally, felt… comfortable. More comfortable than you had expected.

Of course, you still weren’t used to Haechan calling you pet names, but the way they rolled off his tongue with such ease made you think you could eventually get used to it—out of necessity, of course. At least, that’s what you told yourself as the movie began playing and the two of you settled in, perhaps a bit too close together.

It has been almost a week since the announcement at your place. A whole week of spending more time with Haechan than you ever thought you would.

You pouted as you walked beside him, your breath visible in the freezing air. Haechan, ever observant, noticed immediately.

“What’s with you?” he asked, tilting his head toward you.

“What’s with me is that I wanted to stay late at work to finish up some paperwork and presentations,” you huffed. “Yet here I am, being dragged out of the office to get freaking ice cream.”

“Again, what’s the problem here? Sounds more like a blessing to me,” Haechan replied with a smirk, his tone brimming with pride. “Also, don’t blame me. Jeno’s the one who called and asked me to pick you up after work. I just figured we could grab some ice cream on the way back.”

You shot him a skeptical look, squinting at him. “It’s freezing outside, and you thought ice cream was a good idea?”

“Can’t help thinking about sweet thoughts when all I think about is you,” he said with a wink, nudging your arm.

Your face immediately heated, and you turned your head sharply to hide your blush. “You’re irritating, and you don’t need to flirt with me when Jeno isn’t around, it’s not necessary,” you muttered, but your voice lacked the bite you intended.

Haechan laughed, the sound warm and teasing. “Oh, but it is, you’re so easy to make blush. It’s cute.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you responded, rolling your eyes, though your heart raced at his words.

The two of you stepped into the small corner ice cream shop, its warmth a welcome contrast to the bitter cold outside. You had no intention of actually enjoying yourself, but the cozy atmosphere and the way Haechan seemed genuinely excited made it harder to stay annoyed.

He leaned casually against the counter, studying the menu like it was the most important decision of his life. “Cookies and cream, right?”

You blinked, “how’d you know?”

He shrugged, flashing you a playful grin. “I pay attention. You’re predictable, remember?”

“Predictable?” you echoed, crossing your arms.

He nodded confidently. “Cookies and cream ice cream, oversized hoodies, snarky attitude—you’re like a walking checklist.”

You opened your mouth to retort but stopped when you noticed his smug grin. He wanted you to argue. If there’s anything he enjoyed just as much as making you blush, it was definitely getting under your skin. Instead, you huffed, turning your attention to the menu.

Minutes later, you sat by the window with your cone, the soft glow of the shop’s lights reflecting off the glass. Haechan plopped down across from you, licking his strawberry ice cream with a ridiculous amount of enthusiasm.

“You look ridiculous,” you said, unable to hide your grin.

“Yet, here you are, enjoying my company,” he shot back.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny it—he had a point.

As the conversation drifted to lighter topics, you found yourself laughing more than you’d expected. Haechan had a way of making even the simplest stories entertaining, his animated expressions and dramatic gestures drawing you in, distracting you of the outside world.

It wasn’t just his humor. It was the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the way his voice softened when he teased you gently. There was a warmth to him, a genuine charm that you hadn’t fully noticed before.

Your gaze lingered on him for a moment too long, and when he caught you staring, his smirk widened.

“See something you like?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.

Your face burned, and you quickly looked down at your ice cream. “In your dreams.”

“Every night,” he quipped, his tone teasing but his gaze steady.

You forced a laugh, but your heart wasn’t cooperating. It thudded against your chest, each beat reminding you of a truth you didn’t want to face.

Don’t fall for it. You can’t.

The cold air nipped at your skin as you eventually walked side by side down the quiet streets. Despite the chill, the warmth in your chest hadn’t faded. It was unsettling.

Haechan’s hands were shoved into his jacket pockets, his steps light and unhurried. “You’ve been quiet. What are you thinking about? Is it because of my incredibly good looks?”

You snorted, shaking your head, “don’t flatter yourself.”

He stopped abruptly, turning to face you with an exaggerated gasp. “You are thinking about me!”

“Am not!” you protested, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

“Liar,” he teased, stepping closer. “You’re thinking about how irresistible I am. Admit it.”

You glared at him, your lips twitching despite your best efforts. “You’re delusional.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

When you finally reached your apartment, you turned to thank him, but the words caught in your throat when you saw the way he was looking at you.

Haechan’s teasing demeanor had melted away, replaced by something softer, genuine. His dark eyes locked on yours, and the playful smirk that usually graced his lips was absent. His soft eyes grazed you up and down with something much more than just friendship.

Your breath hitched as he stepped closer, his gaze flickering to your lips for just a moment before returning to your eyes.

For a split second, you thought he might kiss you, and the realization sent a rush of panic through you. Before either of you could move, the door behind you swung open.

Jeno stood there, keys in hand, his expression caught somewhere between annoyance and amusement.

“Well,” he said, glancing between the two of you, “this is awkward.”

You stepped back quickly, clearing your throat. “Jeno, we were just—”

“Save it,” Jeno interrupted, smirking. “I gotta say, though, you two are starting to convince me. The way you look at each other? Pretty obvious.”

“Obvious?” you echoed, your voice slightly higher than intended.

“Yeah, obvious,” Jeno said, stepping past you. “Anyway, I’m heading out to the gym with Jaemin. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.” He shot Haechan a pointed look before walking down the hallway.

Haechan grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Told you we’re convincing.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, stepping inside quickly.

That night, as you lay in bed, you couldn’t stop replaying the moment at the door. The way Haechan looked at you, the way he leaned in—it was all too much.

You pressed a pillow to your face, groaning, but then your phone buzzed with a text from him:

HC: Sweet dreams, pretty girl <3

You felt your heart betray you again, skipping a beat. You push all of this down, swearing to yourself to lock this feeling away and forget about it.

You reminded yourself, you needed to focus on yourself and keep up this game until your family stopped pestering you. Once they meet him and a couple of months have passed, you can end things and finally be free of him. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

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jinxekkotimebomb · 1 month ago

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Daily Cloud Strife #58

#cloud #cloud ffvii #cloud ff7 #ff #final fantasy #final fantasy series #final fantasy 7 #ff7 #ff7 rebirth #ff7 crisis core #ff7 remake #final fantasy vii #ffvii #ff7 ever crisis #cloud strife

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wonopia · 6 months ago

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THE PHOTOBOOTH | 017. I BELIEVE YOU

[WC] . 3250 [WARNING] . mentions of rape and sexual assault, profanity... pls lemme know if i missed anything! prev ! mlist ! next

even though it felt like summer just started, it was about to end within 2 weeks. misaki hasn’t messaged sunghoon about meeting up yet and he’s been waiting ever-so patiently.

the summer heat has now fully engulfed sunghoon, feeling himself get tan already. beads of sweat beginning to form along his cold skin, ushering to close the window of his best friend's car. forcing on the ac. as the bestest friend he has, heeseung, was able to drive the boy to his skating practices and occasionally stay to watch.

“has she messaged you yet?” he asked.

“nope,” sunghoon sighed, rechecking his duffel bag to see if he forgot anything. he had been anticipating the moment he feels his phone vibrate, nevertheless it was never her. “i’ve actually been so patient. im surprised i haven’t messaged her yet.”

“patient.. right,” heeseung mumbled in unsureness, hands loosening on the steering wheel. he began to roll up his window as well, letting the cold air from the ac refreshen him. “would you call that being patient?”

a week ago

sunghoon was lying on his stomach on heeseung’s couch, staring at his phone. no sign of misaki texting him anytime soon. he continued to lay and stare at the item as if it would summon her. jay sat against the couch on the floor while playing on the ps4 that was plugged into the back of heeseung's living room tv.

music from a nearby speaker, on the table, played various songs as the three boys surrounded themselves with each others presence. not needing to talk, they continued to do their own individual things. heeseung was sitting on a sofa chair, leaning on the armrest and legs on the other end.

“whens she gonna message me back!!” sunghoon whined, kicking the dark beige cushions, burying his face in a pillow at arms reach. he couldn't help but sulk. what's taking her so long to message, he thought.

“bro chill,” heeseung groaned, head rolling back at annoyance of his best friend. as much as he loved him, he couldn't handle this clingy, needy boy on his couch. “you’ve been staring at that phone of yours this whole time. put your phone in the phone drawer.”

jay laughed loudly at the demand, attempting to focus on mario kart, “you heard him, put the phone in the drawer.”

sunghoon tsked at his best friends before grabbing his phone, getting up to put it in the drawer. once he did, he slumped back onto the couch. his eyes subconsciously glancing back at the destination of his phone.

it wasn't long before jay was able to calm down, trying to anticipate where to drive next in his game. his eyes widening at the sight of him being on his third lap, biting his lip in hopes it would make his kart move faster.

“i could feel you staring at it from the back of my head,” jay said, adjusting his shirt due to uncomfortableness.

“oh shut up,” sunghoon retorted, smacking lightly at the back of his head, “i will literally beat the..”

ding. ding.

the phone buzzed, causing the three boys to stare at the tv stand drawer. jay taking a momentary glance before locking back into the game in front of him. heeseung turned to see sunghoon's reaction.

“no way,” heeseung laughed, getting up from the sofa cushion chair to sit normally.

sunghoon gleamed at the thought of misaki texting him. he quickly got up to retrieve the electronic device before his best friend stopped him.

“no, no, no,” jay shook his head, “the rules of the drawer is that you have to wait at least an hour.”

he stared blankly at them, clearly judging. he couldn't believe they were following that pink haired boy's stupid phone rule, “okay, why don't we just keep this a secret from sunoo!” he mumbled, a sense of urgency blended in his voice, going for the drawer.

but as he was just about to open it, he was tackled by heeseung.

“we said no!” he argued, holding back his best friend.

an hour later

“i can open it now!!” he cheered loudly, hands in fists as he declared victory. a million thoughts ran through his head. all the negative and positive sinking into his skin like needles at the ideas.

his two best friends watched him scurry to get his phone, yanking open the drawer. once he got in it his hands, he slid it open to see the only new notifications were 2 texts from heeseung.

“oh you’re gonna get it,” sunghoon yelled, tossing his phone to the floor. heeseung screeched at him, running towards his room, while bursting out into laughter.

present

“shouldn’t you hate her or something?"

sunghoon shook his head, “why should i?”

“she broke up with you without any reason,” hee explained, running a hand through his messy sleek black hair.

“well i really like her so i can’t exactly just hate her like that,” he said, “i want to try and fight for us.”

heeseung glanced at him, trying to understand. for one, he didn't know that sunghoon was this type of person when it came to love. and to realize that this was the first time sunghoon was actually in a relationship, it revealed different sides that even heeseung didn't know were there, “i haven’t dated anyone or anything like that so i don’t exactly relate, but it sounds like you like her way more than you thought.”

it wasn’t long before heeseung had dropped him off at the white glass-like arena.

“don’t forget our plans today, okay?” heeseung reminded as sunghoon got out of the car, “my house right after practice.”

“got it,” he nodded, giving him a thumbs up. heeseung's car drove off, and back onto the road, blending in with the other cars. sunghoon walked to the rink like always. he changed his clothes before gliding onto the ice. he adjusted quickly, letting the frozen air cold hug around him- a feeling he will always be grateful for.

there were several other skaters he knew that were also on the ice, deciding to keep to himself as they all worked on their individual skills. normally their coach would be out to scold them but today was more of a freetime.

to sunghoon, the ice was somewhere he could be himself. somewhere he could feel secure and safe when he feels sad. even if he is just siting on a bench, staring at it, he'd feel a thousand times better.

he continued to work on a triple axel, wanting to get into improvising a choreo as quick as he could. so he blocked out any of his thoughts or worries, and began to critique himself. as soon as he launched off into the air, he spun as fast as he could, landing nicely on his right leg.

"nice land," a husky voice echoed out to him, looking their direction, he immediately recognized him. he never sees him as much anymore since sunghoon began taking late afternoon classes. "you've been coming in a lot earlier than normal."

"oh hey kyson," sunghoon waved, putting on an awkward smile as he began to skate closer to him, "yeah, i've.. been more free since summer started. i decided to start getting my reps in."

"how's that girl of yours?" he asked, spinning in small circles. his skates scratching the ice with a satisfying slice, something sunghoon couldn't ignore. kyson's light brown hair, glistened under the lights of the rink. his hair beginning to cling onto his forehead. it was visible that kyson was here for quite longer than he was.

sunghoon tsked lightly, trying not to feel embarrassed or discomforted, "um.. yeah we broke up a while ago."

he stopped circling and faced the boy, "oh i'm sorry," kyson was always a nice guy, funny even. although they weren't close, he knew he always had good intentions towards this sport. something a bond only they share.

"no, you're good," sunghoon didn't hesitate to put on a fake smile, wanting to dig a hole in the ice just to freeze. the idea alone was comforting. "you didn't know."

"i hope everything gets better," he wishes, giving him a genuine smile- something that oddly touched sunghoon to heart.

"than.. thanks," he stuttered, letting each leg get him to circle around kyson in a smooth, slow motion. kyson watching him do so. sunghoon's skates shredding the ice, small pieces bundling up together.

"when wonyoung and i broke up, i was heartbroken," he laughed, and for one it sounded pure and not generated. but sunghoon could tell he was still hurt by the memories, "for a while when we were dating.. i could've sworn she had feelings for you. i only now learned that she despised your sister."

sunghoon brought himself to a stop spinning to be a few feet in front of him, "oh yeah, i know about that," he nodded.

"anyways," kyson mumbled, shaking his head, "trust me when i say it will get better. i'll let you go now." he waved, skating towards the gate of the rink before walking to the locker rooms.

kyson used to be a playboy. he used to date every girl on campus, but now he doesn't bother to find a new relationship. sunghoon found it strange that he could never stick to one. out of all the wonderful girls he dated, he always broke it off with them.

in spite of playing a bunch of girls, sunghoon could confirm that kyson was a nice guy. he knew how to treat girls well, but for some reason something stops him every time. the two boys weren't that close so he couldn't fill in the missing information.

it was until he met wonyoung, he was able to truly be himself. he could tell kyson let his worries away when she was there. sunghoon could remember every time she came to cheer him on during performances, she was exceptionally kind and supportive to him.

of course she did her best to avoid sunghoon, she never failed to make kyson feel special– put him first through everything.

sunghoon doesn't know what happened to them, nor does he seem like it's his place to ask; but he can't seem to forget how beautiful they represented each other. nonetheless they made loving someone look so easy.

however, it will always be a mystery to him.

in the wink of an eye, the session was over. since it was the weekend, after private sessions it was open to the public. sunghoon hurried to pack up his stuff to leave without a word.

once he left the building, he pulled out his phone, beginning to walk to heeseung's house. but something on his phone made him freeze in place, feeling himself tense up at a text from misaki. she was free now.

it hadn't been long until sunghoon found himself in front of misaki's small off-white house. his hands pressed together, sweat beginning to build up. even through the humid heat, the nervousness made him feel even worse.

he was able to make it to her porch but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to knock. breathe. just breathe, he told himself. he brought his right hand up, pausing an inch away from the wooden door.

but you cannot be loud, he remembered, misaki's voice playing in his head. he sighed, retracting his hand to pull out his phone from his back pocket to text her that he was outside. sunghoon waited patiently, rocking on the heels of his feet until the door slowly opened.

for the first time in a long time, they were seeing each other. his eyes felt like burning, not just from the sun but from her. nevertheless, she still looked so pretty. her hair was down, and her bangs were messily stretched across her forehead. he could tell she had light makeup on, and she wore a hoodie and shorts with long white socks.

"hey," she said lowly, "thanks for not knocking."

"yeah, no problem," he nodded.

"come in," she said, gesturing for him to come inside, "don't mind the mess. just go to my room."

she shut the door before running off to the direction of her room. sunghoon nodded, taking off his shoes before following her to her bedroom. the house was dark, many of the blinds were shut, but sunghoon didn't ask about it.

when he entered her room, he immediately noticed how rearranged everything was. it looked entirely different than before. this was definitely not the room from his dream.

"why'd you want to meet up?" misaki asked, turning to him with arms crossed over her chest. her expression easy to read, she was just as nervous as he was. it was as if his mind went blank. "sunghoon?"

"oh.. well," he mumbled, remembering what jay told him, "why did you break up with me?"

now it was her turn to go quiet. he could see her go visibly tense, eyes looking downward towards the floor. she knew that if she looked at him for too long then all her self control would be long gone, "i lost feelings, alright?"

"misa," he said lightly and quietly, almost in a begging way. gazing at her with soft and vulernable eyes, "please look at me and tell me the truth."

her eyes shifted, looking up to his. she easily let the words slide out of her mouth, "i'm telling the truth," as if it was a line from a book, he couldn't help but feel like she was lying. a sort of need for comfort in her eyes as if she needs a reason to believe it too.

he observed her. he observed the way her eyebrows furrowed at him. he observed how her voice began to get quiet. he observed how her hands started to fidget and scratch with her clothes. he saw how she was holding something back.

"then why do i feel like you're lying to me?" sunghoon asked compassion and need in his voice. he was in need of comfort and a reason to move on. "i don't understand. i really don't. you... you can't just end it like this."

she bit her tongue from saying anything. misaki could feel herself breaking apart, as if something in her was gnawing at her skin, telling her to break. her head began to shake lightly and slowly as if she didn't want him to continue to talk, but he did it anyway.

"how.. how could you lose feelings so fast? what did i do wrong?"

"nothing," misaki stated, forcing to gulp, letting out her breath that she didn't know she was holding. "you.. you did nothing wrong."

"then tell me why you're lying."

"i.." she mumbled, pausing as she remembered what theo told her. she knew the consequences, she knew what would happen if she told him, she knew all the things that would go wrong, "i can't tell you."

he tilted his head at her, "misa, you can tell me. i won't be hurt by anything, i just want the truth. even after you tell me and you don't want to be with me, i'll accept that."

sunghoon stood right by the door, keeping his distance from her in case he'd make her uncomfortable. even though he wanted to hug her and tell her everything would be okay, he knew it was wrong to force that upon her. to force a comfort that she possibly wanted nothing to do with, and that was the last thing he wanted.

misaki unfolded her arms, walking over to him. she shut the door lightly behind him before softly grabbing his wrist to guide him to the bed to sit down. the small interaction, her touch against his, was something he forever craved.

he watched her do so, sitting on the side of her bed. she stood in front of him. he looked up at her, making sure she was okay. her eyes fixated on his wrist, not being able to look him in the eye.

"theo," she whispered lowly, her breathing becoming abnormal, "he.. he threatened to post a video about me online and it had sara in it. he said if i broke up with you, then he wouldn't post it." sunghoon kept his eyes on her, letting her continue. "i knew you wouldn't want a video of your sister posted online. i.. i didn't want you thinking of me differently."

"misaki," he said, unwrapping her hand from his wrist to hold them in his own. lightly squeezing her soft hands, "what was in the video?"

her eyes locking with his, his touch was something that motivated her to open up. to be vulnerable, to feel the trust he is openly giving to her, "he was.. he was going to.." she fought back the tears, not wanting to cry in front of him.

he felt himself tense up at the sight of her. she was anything but okay, she was hurting and he couldn't even realize that. she was suffering and she didn't feel comfortable enough to tell him. he could feel his eyes sting, your state being something that changes him almost too easily.

almost instantaneously, sunghoon understood. he got up, hugging his arms around her head, bringing her closer to him. she cried into his shirt, clutching onto his lower back. his scent and warmth engulfing her whole, something she seemed to incredibly miss.

"it's okay," he assured her. he couldn't believe it. theo, he didn't even know the guy, but god did he want to punch the shit out of him.

"he.. he was going.. going to touch me a.. and.." she stuttered, attempting to utter it out, "when your sister walked in.. she.. she.. she didn't believe me. no one did," she sobbed, holding onto him tighter.

"it's okay, let it out," he told her, "i'm here and.. and i believe you." he could feel her heartbeat against his. the feeling making him want to cry. sunghoon's heart began to weep inside him at the feeling of her heart racing against him.

misaki began to cry harder, mumbling, "i'm sorry," again and again, "i'm sorry f.. for hurting you. i'm.. i'm sorry for not.. not telling you. i'm so.. so sorry, sunghoon."

"don't be," he reassured her, his hand wandering to her upper back, rubbing to calm her down, "i'm sorry for not realizing it. i'm sorry for not earning your trust," he said, beginning to cry.

she pulled away to look at him to see fresh tears running down his pink cheeks. shaking her head at the glimpse of him crying. for the first time she was seeing him cry, it was because of her.

"no.. no, no you earned my trust," she told him, her voice becoming raspy and tired, "you.. you gained my trust from the start. i.. i.. it was me, i didn't.. i didn't want to lose what we had because of what theo did."

even though he knew she was telling the truth, he couldn't stop the tears from coming out. he couldn't stop the thought in his head telling him it's all his fault.

"sunghoon, can you please stay here tonight? i don't want to be alone."

looking into her eyes, he could tell she was really tired, "yeah. yeah, of course."

note: i feel like i couldve wrote this better but bro im heartbroken for them :(

open TAGLIST. @coffeeprincejaehyun @hoonatic @i03jae @lilifiedeans @clampclover @solviloaf

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