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theonottsbxtch · 25 days ago

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FOREVER AND ALWAYS | MV1

an: military au go reeeee, my friend is currently talking to a marine so it makes this funnier, anyway this is a request and be prepared for how much im about to post, im posting all my wips so i can start a new

wc: 3.8k

THE LAST MORNING MAX spent in town was unseasonably warm for late September, but she still wore his old hoodie over her dress. It swallowed her, the cuffs rolled up clumsily so her fingers could peek through. Max liked seeing her in it; she made it look softer than it ever felt to him. They sat on the hood of his truck by the edge of the lake, the same spot they always went to when something big needed to be said.

“You’ll write, right?” she asked, her voice steadier than the fingers twisting the hem of his sleeve.

Max didn’t answer right away. He hated promises. He hated making them and breaking them even more. But he wasn’t going to break this one. “Every day,” he said, his voice a little rough. “I mean it, okay? You’ll be sick of me by Christmas.”

“I could never,” she said, and the words felt too small for how much she meant them.

The sun caught in her hair, and Max felt the ache of leaving settle deeper in his chest. He should’ve been relieved—one last night in this town, in that house—but all he could think about was how hard it was going to be to drive away from her in the morning.

“I’ll write back every time,” she promised, her eyes locked on his like she could hold him here through sheer willpower. “Don’t you dare stop.”

“I won’t.”

It was the closest thing to forever they’d ever said to each other, and Max wanted to believe it could be.

He didn’t sleep much that night. Max stayed parked outside her house long after walking her to the door, watching the glow of her bedroom light until it finally went dark. He told himself he’d leave when she was asleep, but his hands stayed glued to the steering wheel, his heart beating louder than the crickets outside.

Morning came too fast. He stood on her porch in his pressed uniform, his duffel slung over his shoulder. Her dad answered the door, grunted something about “too early for this,” and disappeared back into the house. Max heard her footsteps upstairs, quick and light, and then there she was, rushing down to meet him, already wearing a smile he didn’t deserve.

“You’re really doing it,” she said, her voice tight with something caught between pride and fear.

“I am.”

She stepped closer, her fingers brushing the crisp fabric of his sleeve. “You’re going to be okay, right?”

Max didn’t know how to answer that. He could handle the yelling, the rules, the miles of running. But leaving her? That felt like the first real battle.

“You’re the toughest guy I know,” she added softly, filling the silence.

“Tough’s not the same as okay,” he admitted, his voice low.

“Then I’ll be okay for both of us.”

The words hit him harder than he expected, wrapping around something fragile in his chest. He leaned down and kissed her, quick and desperate, like he could steal a little of her steadiness to take with him.

When they finally broke apart, she laughed softly, her forehead still resting against his. “You’re coming back, Max. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t,” he said.

He didn’t know if it was a promise or a prayer.

The bus station was quiet that early in the morning, just a couple of strangers milling around with their heads down and coffee in hand. Max stood off to the side with her, his duffel at his feet and his hands shoved deep into his pockets to keep from grabbing hers. She said she couldn’t come, but watching him walk back to the truck made her call in sick for work and follow him in.

“You should go sit,” he said, nodding toward the bench near the car park.

She gave him a look, one eyebrow raised in challenge. “I’m not leaving this spot until you’re on that bus.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. Of course she wouldn’t. She was stubborn like that, always had been. He loved her for it, even if it made saying goodbye harder.

The bus pulled up, its brakes hissing as it rolled to a stop. Max felt the weight of the moment settle on his shoulders, heavier than the duffel. This was it.

He turned to her, unsure of what to say. Every word that came to mind felt too big or too small.

“Write me first,” she said, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft, but her eyes burned with determination. “As soon as you get there. Don’t wait for me to start.”

“I will,” he said, nodding. “Every day, remember?”

She smiled at that, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, holding on so tightly it felt like she was trying to anchor him there.

He let himself hold her back, burying his face in her hair for just a moment. He wasn’t going to cry. He wouldn’t let himself.

“I’ll see you after training,” she whispered against his chest, her voice shaking just a little. “I’ll be there, Max.”

He pulled back, cupping her face in his hands. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

The driver called for boarding, and Max grabbed his bag. He didn’t look back as he stepped onto the bus. He couldn’t. If he did, he might not get on at all.

But as the bus pulled away, he glanced out the window. She was still standing there, exactly where he left her, her hand raised in a wave he couldn’t return.

He pressed his forehead against the glass, the weight of her promise settling in his chest. She would be there. He had to believe it.

Training was relentless.

The early mornings were the worst—before the sun even thought about rising, before his body remembered how to move. They ran until their legs felt like they’d snap beneath them, did push-ups until their arms gave out, and marched under the weight of packs that felt heavier with every mile. The shouting never stopped, every mistake earning a punishment meant to break them down and rebuild them into something sharper, stronger.

But it was nothing compared to what Max had already endured.

At home, the yelling was never meant to make him stronger. The bruises weren’t badges of discipline—they were reminders of how small he was made to feel. Every time he hit the ground during training, his drill sergeant barking at him to get up, Max thought of how often he’d done the same thing in that house. He got up then, and he got up now.

The other guys complained at night, lying on their bunks and licking their wounds, but Max didn’t join in. They didn’t know how lucky they were—how much easier it was to run ten miles when there wasn’t a door slamming behind you or fists flying to match.

And then there were the letters.

Her first one came the day after he arrived, folded neatly into an envelope with her handwriting scrawled across the front. The sight of it made his chest ache, and he didn’t even wait to get back to the barracks to read it.

Hey, tough guy. I hope this gets to you quick. Are they making you run as much as I think they are? Do you miss me? I miss you. It’s been one day and this town already feels different without you. Keep writing, okay? I’ll keep writing too. Just don’t let them make you forget who you are, Max. I love you.

The letters became his lifeline. Every night, after lights-out, he’d sit on the edge of his bunk with a flashlight and write her back. He told her about the blisters on his feet, the meals that barely qualified as food, the drill sergeant who could make a grown man cry with a single word. But he also told her how he was getting stronger, faster, better—how he thought about her every time things got too hard.

She didn’t just write about missing him. Her letters were full of details—what their friends were up to, how the leaves were starting to change by the lake, what songs were playing on the radio. She made him feel like he wasn’t missing everything. Like she was keeping his place for him.

The days blurred together after a while, a constant cycle of exhaustion and repetition. But then, one morning, everything felt different.

It was the last day of training.

Max stood in formation with the others, the sun rising behind them as their drill sergeant paced in front of the line. They’d been through hell together—guys who had started as strangers now felt like brothers. But Max wasn’t thinking about them.

He was thinking about her.

He scanned the crowd of families waiting just beyond the training field, his heart pounding harder than it ever had during a run. She had said she’d be here. She promised.

And then he saw her.

She was standing near the back, craning her neck to see over the heads of taller people in front of her. When their eyes met, she smiled so brightly that for a second, everything else—the noise, the exhaustion, the fear—fell away.

Max’s throat tightened, but he forced himself to focus. One last task. One last push. He would finish this, and then he’d go to her.

And this time, he wouldn’t have to leave too soon.

Max’s heart hammered as the ceremony came to a close. The drill sergeant dismissed them with a sharp bark, and the tension that had held the recruits in place finally broke. Families surged forward, cheers and hugs filling the air. Max stood frozen for a moment, scanning the crowd again until he saw her pushing through the mass of people, her face a mix of determination and joy.

She was exactly how he remembered her, but somehow even better. Her hair bounced as she hurried toward him, and the familiar tilt of her smile made his chest ache. And yet, as soon as she stopped a few feet in front of him, she planted her hands on her hips like she had all the time in the world.

“Well, well,” she said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey there, tough guy.”

Max swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. But her teasing grin made the corner of his mouth twitch, threatening to break into a smile he wasn’t supposed to give just yet.

From behind her, one of his barrack mates, Danny came up and watched her as she eyed up Max. When she noticed him, he nodded at her. “Ma’am.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “Don’t ‘ma’am’ me, I’m only young.” She stepped closer, looking at Max once more, her expression shifting to exaggerated awe. “That’s a whole lot of muscles you’ve got there now. What’ve they been feeding you?”

Max tried not to laugh, but he couldn’t stop his lips from curving upward.

“You’re not supposed to touch the recruits until they’ve been tapped out,” Danny said, his voice low, playful.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by Max’s attempt at staying serious. “Is that so? Guess I’ll have to keep my hands to myself for a minute longer, huh?”

He held her gaze, the tension building between them until it was almost unbearable. She took another step forward, her smile softening into something sweeter, something he’d missed so much it hurt.

“Max,” she said quietly, her voice just loud enough for him to hear over the noise around them.

And then, finally, she reached out and tapped his shoulder.

That was all it took. Max didn’t hesitate—he dropped his duffel to the ground and swept her into his arms, lifting her clean off the ground. She laughed, but it broke halfway through, and then she was crying, her face buried in his shoulder.

“I missed you,” she said, her voice muffled against his uniform.

Max held her tighter, his eyes stinging as he pressed his cheek against her hair. “I missed you too,” he murmured, his voice thick.

For a moment, neither of them moved. She clung to him like she was afraid he might disappear, and Max let himself soak in the feel of her in his arms—the warmth, the softness, the familiarity he’d craved every single day he was gone.

When she finally pulled back, her hands stayed on his shoulders, her fingers brushing against the hard muscle beneath his uniform. She tilted her head, a teasing smile breaking through her tears. “Seriously, Max. What’s with these muscles? You didn’t look like this when you left.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rough, and shook his head. “Had to give you something to brag about, didn’t I?”

She laughed, swiping at her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater. “Oh, I’m definitely bragging. You’re not going anywhere without me showing you off first.”

“Not going anywhere without you at all,” Max said softly.

Her smile faltered for just a second, her eyes filling again. “Good,” she whispered. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

He cupped her face gently, leaning in until their foreheads touched. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“Always,” she said, and for the first time in months, Max felt like he was finally home.

As they were about to kiss, a cough disrupted them. Danny. “Are you done?”

“Leave me alone Danny, I’ve seen enough of you.” Max laughed, pulling her in closer.

“I’m heading out, my girl’s at the car but I’ll see you soon, yeah?” Danny asked, taking off his hat and running his hand through it.

“Yeah you will. See you soon Dan.”

The desert heat was unrelenting, the sun beating down on Max and Danny as they sat outside their barracks during a rare moment of downtime. Max leaned against a wall, his cap pulled low over his eyes, but it wasn’t enough to shield him from Danny’s relentless teasing.

“You’ve been staring at that box for five minutes, man,” Danny said, smirking as he leaned back in his chair. “You sure you don’t want me to take it off your hands? I’d do a solid job proposing to her, you know.”

Max shot him a look, his jaw tightening, though there was no real heat behind it. “Touch it, and I’ll bury you in the sand.”

Danny snorted, tossing a rock lazily across the dusty ground. “Relax, lover boy. I’m just saying—you’ve had that ring for months. You’ve got the whole speech planned, don’t you? ‘I’ve loved you since we were kids, you’re my whole world,’ blah, blah, blah. Bet you even practiced in the mirror.”

Max rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at his lips. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small velvet box, flipping it open to reveal the simple but elegant ring inside. He didn’t need anything flashy—she wouldn’t want that. The ring was perfect: timeless, just like her.

“I don’t need a speech,” Max said quietly, running his thumb along the edge of the box. “She already knows. She’s known since before I left the first time.”

Danny’s teasing grin softened into something more genuine. “She’s a lucky girl, you know. Not everyone would stick around through all this.”

“She’s not sticking around,” Max corrected, his voice firm. “She’s living her life—uni, friends, everything she’s always wanted. She’s just...waiting for me to come back, too.”

Danny whistled low. “Well, when you put it like that, I guess you’re the lucky one.”

Max didn’t argue. He thought about her every day—her laugh, the way she scribbled little doodles in the corners of her letters, the photo she’d sent him of her sitting on the quad with her textbooks spread out around her. She looked happy, and that was what mattered most to him.

But God, he missed her.

“I’ll ask her when we’re off duty,” Max said, snapping the box shut and tucking it safely back into his pocket. “The next time I get to see her, I’m not waiting. I’m not wasting another minute.”

Danny grinned, tipping his chair back on two legs. “You’re gonna make me cry, man. I’m just glad I’ll be there to see it.”

“You’re not invited.”

“Like hell I’m not.”

They both laughed, the kind of laugh that felt rare in a place like this. For a moment, the heaviness of deployment lifted, replaced by something lighter—hope.

But when the laughter faded, Max’s mind drifted back to her. He pictured her sitting in a lecture hall, twirling a pen between her fingers, her hair catching the sunlight. She’d promised him that first day he left that she’d always be there waiting for him, and she had never broken that promise.

And soon—so soon—he’d finally get to make one to her.

The cab pulled up to her apartment building, a modest brick complex tucked onto a quiet street just off campus. Max stared out the window, his heart thundering in his chest. It didn’t matter that he’d seen her a year ago on leave or that they’d talked just last week on a grainy video call. Being here, knowing she was just a flight of stairs away, made it all feel brand new.

Danny’s words echoed in his head as he grabbed his bag and climbed out. Don’t mess this up, man. She’s been waiting long enough.

The door to her unit opened before he could even knock. There she was, framed in the doorway, wearing an oversized sweater and leggings, her hair falling loose around her shoulders. She broke into a smile so bright it felt like the sun had come out, and before he could say a word, she threw her arms around his neck.

“Max!” she breathed, holding onto him like she never wanted to let go.

He dropped his bag and wrapped her up, burying his face in her hair. She smelled like home, like everything he’d missed.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice catching.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands sliding to his shoulders. “You’re here. You’re actually here.”

“I’m here.”

She laughed, the sound a little shaky, and grabbed his hand, tugging him inside. “Come on, I made dinner. It’s probably cold by now, but I didn’t want to risk leaving the kitchen in case—”

She didn’t get to finish.

Max stopped dead in the small kitchen, his eyes scanning the space—the mismatched dishes on the counter, the vase of sunflowers he recognised from her letters, the magnets on the fridge holding up her class schedule and pictures of them together. It was perfect.

And suddenly, he couldn’t wait.

“This wasn’t how I planned it,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

“What?” She turned, confusion flickering in her eyes.

Max dropped to one knee right there in the middle of the kitchen, pulling the velvet box from his pocket. He saw her gasp, her hands flying to her mouth, but he was too focused to stop now.

“I wasn’t going to do it like this,” he said, the words tumbling out. “I had a whole plan—something big and romantic—but I don’t care about plans anymore. I just...I love you. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember, and I don’t want to wait another second to ask.” He opened the box, his hands steady despite the chaos in his chest. “Will you marry me?”

She froze, her wide eyes locked on his. The silence stretched, and Max felt a flicker of panic.

“So?” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

That broke her. She let out a choked laugh, tears spilling down her cheeks as she dropped to her knees in front of him. “I’m sorry! I’m just—yes! Of course, yes!”

Her arms went around his neck, and she kissed him fiercely, her tears wetting his face. Max held her close, the ring box forgotten on the floor as he kissed her back, pouring every bit of love and relief into the moment.

When they finally broke apart, she laughed through her tears, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “You really couldn’t wait, huh?”

“Not for this,” he said, his voice low and raw.

She smiled and kissed him again, slower this time, her hands sliding down to rest against his chest. Max stood, lifting her with him effortlessly, and set her on the edge of the counter.

“Max,” she murmured, her hands slipping beneath the collar of his shirt.

“Yeah?” he said, his forehead resting against hers.

“Welcome home.”

He smiled against her lips, capturing them in another kiss, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Max let himself feel it all—the love, the relief, the joy of knowing he was exactly where he was meant to be.

Dinner had been a blur, both of them too giddy and caught up in the moment to care that the food was lukewarm and hastily reheated. They laughed, talked, and stole kisses between bites, the kind of easy affection that felt like they’d never been apart.

Now, hours later, they were tangled together in her bed. The room was dark save for the soft glow of the streetlight filtering through the blinds. She lay draped across his chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin, her eyes fixed on the ring now resting snugly on her finger.

“How are we going to do this?” she asked quietly, her voice thoughtful but tinged with uncertainty.

Max’s hand came up to stroke her back, his thumb brushing along her shoulder blade. He let out a soft sigh. “I leave in three months.”

She stilled for a moment, her finger pausing mid-trace.

“But,” he added, his voice warm and steady, “until then, we live the happy life. All of it. You, me, late-night takeout, bad movies, everything.”

She tilted her head up to look at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “Three months isn’t that long, Max. And I’m still at uni. I’ve got two more years. How—”

“We’ve made it work for two years while I’m away,” he interrupted gently, cupping her cheek with one hand. “We can do two more. You’ve been with me through everything—every deployment, every letter, every call. This won’t be any different. Except now,” he added, his lips quirking into a small smile, “you’ll be my fiancée.”

Her lips trembled, and she leaned up to kiss him, slow and deliberate, her hand slipping over his to hold it against her cheek. When she finally pulled back, her eyes shone with determination.

“You’re really bad at letting me be dramatic, you know that?” she teased softly.

“Someone’s gotta keep you in check,” he said with a smirk.

She laughed quietly, settling back against his chest, and Max tightened his arms around her. They lay there in silence for a while, her fingers once again toying with the ring as if she couldn’t quite believe it was real.

He was engaged.

He was happy.

And he was going to marry the love of his life.

the end.

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sanakiras · 7 days ago

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BOUND BY BLOOD

PAIRING — yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

❝ WHO WILL YOU BE WHEN NO ONE CAN STOP YOU? ❞

WORD COUNT — 23k

SYNOPSIS — in an attempt to escape your past, you join your mother when she moves in with her soon-to-be husband at the other side of the country. the only downside is that your new stepbrother causes you to sink deeper into the rabbit hole you were so desperately trying to leave behind.

TAGS — depictions of death, dark content (stepcest + incestuous undertones), mc and jeonghan are two fucked up pervs coming together to maximize their joint slay, explicit sexual content, red hair!jeonghan, author hates her fucking writing and is a raging perfectionist, do with this information what you will!

♪ — ethel cain - family tree,, charli xcx - apple,, ruelle - monsters,, boy harsher - pain,, lana del rey - in my feelings,, unloved - danger,, twin tribes - monolith,, banks - the fall

NOTE — title is not what u think it is i promise. do keep in mind that this is just fictional and nothing more than a silly idea i wanted to make into a story, so please (!) skip if the tags make you uncomfortable <3

PROLOGUE

when he checks her pulse to see if she’s still alive, you see a single car nearing the scene, the driver of which you then recognize as the last person that should see this.

joshua hits the brakes and hurries out of the car. “i saw you drive off like crazy, what the hell happened—”

his words are caught in his throat when he sees the body.

“shua. she’s gone.” your voice is strained as the sobs remain choked-up in your throat, your shaky hands tugging at his arm.

tears well up in his eyes. “what the—how did this happen?”

jeonghan forces himself to sound remotely shaken up. “i just drove here and she ran in front of the car. it was an accident, i swear.”

but a part of joshua doesn’t buy it. “out of nowhere? what the fuck is this, jeonghan? are you lying to me?”

“no. i swear to you—”

but he doesn’t let him finish. “this is insane. we have to do something, tell the cops what happened here, and with her brother—”

it’s then that jeonghan’s softer approach fades into something meaner. he pushes him against the hood of the car, trying to talk some sense into him. “and what do you think the cops will say, huh? you think they’ll just smile at you for fessing up and let you walk out freely? you’re an accomplice to murder, shua. everyone you know will hate you. this will haunt your name for the rest of your life ― get it into your thick skull once and for all.”

joshua’s breathing quickens with his sobs. “i can’t deal with this the way you can. i can’t do it.”

“you can, and you will.” he grabs his face, wiping the fresh tears away. “you just have to breathe, and you deny. you deny everything. you were not here, okay? i need you to go home, she and i will fix this.”

“you can’t keep making me go through this. how many more deaths do i need to have on my conscience?”

jeonghan shakes his head calmly, embracing him, his one hand on the back of joshua’s neck. “it’s not your fault, shua. it’ll be okay, promise.”

I. STRANGERS

[ SEVERAL MONTHS EARLIER ]

your mother has always had a habit of moving from relationship to relationship. the passing of your father, which happened when you were too young to remember, left her trying to find something in the men around her you highly doubted she ever would.

but that changed a few weeks ago. because apparently, she’s finally found herself a man she wants to stay with. or so she told you. you’ll have to take her word for it.

the one wish of yours she’s always respected was to keep her boyfriends away from you — the last thing you wanted was some guy trying to be a father figure, and since her frequent relationships were often short-lived, there wasn’t really a point to getting to know them. seeing as you departed from home for your freshman year of college nearly two years ago, it’s no surprise that you were barely able to keep up with your mom’s romantic life.

when you arrived home for the summer break, she told you she finally found someone she was madly in love with, happily showing off the shiny diamond sitting on her finger. her fiancé is apparently some rich man living a few hours away, in a huge house at the outskirts of the city.

she initially didn’t expect or plan for you to come live there with her, nor for you to transfer to a different university, though she figured it must’ve been because of what happened last year.

nevertheless, she was happy to have you with her.

and now, two days before starting your third year at a different school, you’re seated in the backseat of the rolls-royce with your mother, and all you can do is stare out the window while the car pulls through the tall gates.

the place is even bigger than you were expecting — a manor straight out of the movies. the last sunbeams of august shine on your face through the glass window as you gaze to the outside.

well, you suppose living here for a little while before you find your own place isn’t the worst thing in the world.

you’ve only met your mother’s future husband once prior to the engagement. you remember he introduced himself as the owner of a successful international hotel franchise. he’s not too bad, clearly doing his best to not act like a father to you whilst simultaneously trying to show you that you’re more than welcome.

once you’ve arrived and said your greetings, your mother looks around for a moment. “where’s your son? is he inside?” she asks, but her fiancé sighs in disappointment.

“no, his flight was delayed, unfortunately, so he’s staying there for the night. he’ll be home tomorrow.”

right, you almost forgot. the fiancé has a son who’s a couple months younger than you, and since university is only twenty minutes away from the house, he still lives here as well.

yeah, you’re not looking too forward to meeting the guy. your mom hasn’t met him yet either, nor do you have any idea what he looks like, but from what she’s told you, he’s around your age, wicked smart, and friendly.

as you go inside the house, you quickly realize that your mother managed to land herself a man with a massive bank account. expensive chandeliers, marble tiled floors with big carpets that don’t have a speck of dirt on them, staff that’s taking your belongings upstairs — you’re impressed.

a member of said staff shows you to your room, which could honestly be considered an apartment, given its size. aside from the spacious bed that could easily fit three people, the room is decorated with dim lighting, big glass windows with a view of the courtyard, a fireplace, and your own private walk-in closet and bathroom.

well, shit. maybe you should just ask your mom if her future husband would pay your tuition as well.

despite getting to sleep in the most beautiful room you’ve ever seen, your first night in the manor is restless, and you arrive at university with tired eyes, hoping the caffeine will kick in soon.

traffic was so shitty that you’re now running late as well, so you rush to the elevators to get to your class in time.

you have a lecture scheduled on the seventh floor, yet you don’t see the number on the display, and you don’t particularly feel like walking up a ridiculous number of stairs.

“you gotta be fucking kidding me.”

you look down at your phone to see if you got the number right, only to be greeted by a guy with dark hair and tiny silver hoop earrings standing beside you, clearly looking you in the eye. “everything okay?”

“i just—i’m new, and i gotta get to the seventh floor, and i don’t understand why this elevator doesn’t go there—”

he quickly interrupts you. “we have two elevator blocks. this one is for even-numbered floors, you need the other one. c’mon, i’ll show you.”

you walk after him, passing two corners before getting to the elevators that take you to the odd-numbered floors. he presses the button, gesturing to the free elevator about to go up.

“thanks for the help. you got a class too?”

“yeah. ninth floor, though,” he replies, smiling at you, “i’m joshua, by the way.”

joshua’s hair is neatly gelled back with one or two strands hanging out at the front. you notice his slightly red lips, strong jawline, and gentle smile.

the door of the elevator opens again, and you realize you’ve already made it to your stop.

“sorry, i gotta go. it was nice meeting you.” you tell him before getting out, failing to introduce yourself.

you faintly hear him say bye as you head into the lecture hall, a big sigh escaping you once you’re finally seated.

your first day consists of a lecture of two hours followed by a regular class of three hours. the experience of a long first day in a constantly crowded space has made you both anxious and tired, so you go outside, stumbling upon a secluded spot between the buildings you’ve had class in today.

it’s the quietest place you’ve come across so far. it allows you to take a breather, a moment to yourself in the hot mess that’s been the past couple weeks, if not months.

although you don’t smoke often, you do have a pack of cigarettes sitting in your bag — and you find yourself reaching for it. unfortunately, your lighter doesn’t really seem to be working today, and you can’t help but groan in annoyance. “fucking hell—”

“you know that’s against the rules, right?”

when you look to the side, you spot some guy standing across from you, his hands sitting in his pockets as if he’s got all the time in the world to have this conversation with you.

a snarky reply works its way out of your throat. “what, you planning to rat me out?”

he pretends to think about it for a moment. “wouldn’t be a lot of fun if i did that, right?”

all you do is shrug your shoulders as you attempt to light your cigarette again, but he suddenly stretches his arm out, holding up his own lighter to let him do it for you.

the gesture makes you stare at him from under your brows for a few seconds, but he doesn’t move a muscle, waiting for you to accept.

so you slightly lean forward, allowing him to light it, and he looks at you with a certain level of intrigue.

he’s got something interesting about him, aside from the fact that he’s ridiculously handsome. his hair is dyed in the shade of a dark red — burgundy, in this bright sunlight — where you guess his natural hair color must be a dark brown, given the color of his eyebrows.

while he’s not the tallest guy you’ve seen here so far, he still sticks out above you, his long legs and lean physique doing enough to make him appear quite tall. he wears a lazy smirk like it’s his default expression, and you’ll give it to him — if he was trying to get your attention, it worked.

he leans against the wall, watching you exhale the smoke. “i don’t think i’ve seen you around. are you a first-year?”

“there’s thousands of people attending here. of course you haven’t seen me before.”

“how straightforward of you.”

“do you prefer small talk?”

the corner of his lips curl up. “i don’t. my question still stands, though.”

“i’m in my third year. just transferred.”

“well, i guess you fit right in. this is the place where i always come to get away from everyone else.”

“is this your way of telling me i gotta go elsewhere next time?”

“took the words right out of my mouth.” the chuckle he lets out sounds low and relaxed. “no, you can come here and join me whenever you want. only if you’re good company, of course.”

you finally take the bait of engaging in the conversation with him and roll your eyes. “sorry to disappoint.”

“i doubt you’d disappoint me.”

“oh, please. you don’t even know me.”

“i do now.” jesus christ — does he always talk like that? like he knows more than you do? “but, if you want me to get to know you, you should tell me your name.”

his gaze becomes surprisingly intense in the blink of an eye, and something suddenly weighs down your body like feet glued to the floor. “i’d love to stay and chat, but i have a class to get to. i’m sure i’ll see you around, though.”

he hums in a bit of a smug way, as if he can look directly into your thoughts and see what you’re thinking. you feel his eyes burning in your back as you walk away from him, into the building, and you force yourself to regain your composure.

several hours later, just in time for dinner, you get back to the house, utterly drained.

the living room has dark walls with a few shiny brown bookcases that reach the ceiling, a comfortable sofa and several other chairs. if anything, the house is styled with rich, darker colors, creating a moody atmosphere, especially at night with the dim lighting.

your mother calls out to you once she notices you standing there. “honey, come here and introduce yourself, will you?”

she’s standing next to her fiancé, but there’s another person with them, whose back is facing you — and you suddenly spot the color of his hair.

when he turns around to face you, it feels as if the air is knocked out of your lungs.

you can’t be serious.

it’s so ridiculously cliché that part of you wants to laugh. what the fuck are the odds of the guy you met earlier today becoming your stepbrother?

though judging by the way his face falls, he was just as unaware of your identity as you were of his. not for long, of course — that damned grin is back on his face in seconds.

he takes a few steps over to you, extending his hand to formally introduce himself, as if you didn’t meet hours before. “i’m jeonghan.”

you stare at him with a deep frown but play along nonetheless, so you shake his hand, curtly saying your own name in response. he repeats it to himself with a softer voice than before, and you hate that you like the way your name sounds when he says it.

then you look down, realizing he’s still holding your hand, and you almost push him away, trying to act like his presence doesn’t affect you in any way whatsoever.

dinner goes by achingly slowly. your mother is being all social and just so damn eager to get to know her future stepson, asking him questions, clearly taking a liking towards him.

jeonghan tells her all kinds of stories, making sure to infuse his words with all the charm he’s probably got in that frail body of his. as you watch from the sidelines, you can tell he knows exactly what she’d like him to be, and he plays the role wonderfully.

well-mannered, friendly, charming, intelligent. he gives your mother subtle yet sickeningly sweet compliments and she just eats it all up.

every now and then, he glances at you, even shamelessly eyeing your chest up and down.

you hate that you’re still intrigued by him.

he asks you questions as well — small talk, of course. probably just for show. your answers are shorter than necessary, and he quickly notices you don’t feel like talking at all.

once dessert is over, you excuse yourself, saying you still have some work to do for tomorrow, and you exit the room immediately to ensure your mother isn’t able to protest.

the sound of footsteps behind you makes you quicken your pace up the stairs.

as you’re walking down the hall, heading to your room, his familiar voice pops up from behind you. “you should’ve just told me your name.”

of course he’s the one going after you.

you scoff at him. “wouldn’t have changed anything.”

jeonghan has his hands sitting in his pockets when he steps towards you. “you would’ve known who i was.”

“did you know who i was?”

“i didn’t, actually. when my dad told me i’d be getting a sister, i didn’t know what to expect.”

“sister?” the way you say it makes it sound like an insult. perhaps it is in this case. “we’re just strangers. nothing more than that.”

oh, jeonghan already likes you much more than he anticipated. there’s a certain sharpness to every single thing that comes out of your mouth ― you’re surprisingly cold. he wonders if you do it on purpose.

“such hostility.” he remarks, enjoying the fact that he’s standing so close to you.

“maybe i just don’t like you.”

“maybe. but you’re not all that talkative with my dad either, nor do you seem to plan on it.”

“so?”

“so, for someone who voluntarily came with her mom to live with complete strangers, you don’t come across as willing to bond with anyone. unless that’s not what you’re here for, of course.”

“what are you saying?”

“you’re a smart girl. if you already built a life for yourself in another place, why come here? you don’t seem ecstatic to be part of a new family.”

“i wanted the change.”

“did you?”

“yes. what does it matter?”

jeonghan won’t outright tell you he finds it strange you get so hostile when asked about your reasons for coming here. “i’m just curious.”

“has anyone ever told you it’s impolite to poke your nose into other people’s business?”

“if you’re going to hide something, at least come up with a better lie.”

waiting for you to respond, he resists the urge to bite his lip, and the two of you stare at each other for a moment, a palpable tension rising between you.

“look, i’m not hiding anything. i’m happy for my mom that she found someone she loves, but as for everything else that comes with it, you couldn’t pay me to care. so i suggest you go and play with someone who does.”

truth be told, you do sound convincing, but then he catches you eyeing his body, and he makes up his mind just like that.

the only person jeonghan wants to play with right now is you, and he’s not one to give up easily.

his voice is all sultry when he bids you goodnight. “good luck studying, sweetheart. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

as he walks away, you grab the handle of your door, but you still look at him going back down the hall, and you find yourself wondering what his room looks like, what he thinks of you ― and perhaps more importantly, what it is he’s planning.

II. BEWARE OF YOUR BROTHER

“hey. jeonghan. d’you know her?”

joshua points to the other side of the hall, at which his best friend curiously looks in said direction, only to find you standing there, typing away at your phone while looking as bored as ever.

“why?” jeonghan asks, curious as to why joshua would ask for you, since he hasn’t yet mentioned the news of his dad’s fiancée having a daughter.

“i bumped into her last week, on monday. she’s new. i introduced myself to her but didn’t get her name ‘cause she was running late for a lecture.”

well, that’s unexpected.

of course you met both him and his best friend on the same day. fate has such a way of bringing people together, it’s laughable.

jeonghan just gestures for his friend to follow him, and the two of them walk over to you, after which he greets you. “hey, sis.”

you look up at him with pure annoyance. “i told you to stop calling me that.”

“i told you i wasn’t planning on it.” he retorts with one corner of his mouth curled upwards ― he reminds you of the cheshire cat.

joshua watches the interaction with a deep frown set into his forehead. “am i missing something here?”

“the woman my dad is marrying has a daughter. daughter being her.”

the younger of the two looks wildly surprised as he processes it. “you’re gonna be his stepsister?”

“so he likes to remind me, yes.” you answer, vaguely recognizing him. “wait, didn’t i meet you last week?”

“you did, yeah. though i didn’t catch your name.”

jeonghan watches as joshua’s tone becomes even sweeter than it already is, his smile only growing bigger once you’ve given him your name.

oh.

oh, no.

the discovery that joshua thinks you’re cute flips a switch in him. you are cute, don’t get him wrong, but he doesn’t like that his friend is looking at you that way.

“well, i gotta go to class. it was nice seeing you again, though, joshua.” you smile, proceeding to shoot your future stepbrother a glare, and he’ll take any attention you give him.

as soon as you’re out of earshot, joshua hits his shoulder. “why the hell didn’t you tell me this sooner? is she living with you?”

“well, i had other priorities. and yes, she is.”

“i can’t believe she’s gonna be your sister. what’s she like? she doesn’t seem to wanna be around you all that much.”

“she’s distant. keeps to herself a lot.”

“so she’s awfully similar to you, then.”

similar to him? he doubts you are.

jeonghan averts his gaze to the courtyard, absentmindedly replying, “i suppose she is.”

a few days later, your mother’s scheduled an appointment for both you and jeonghan at a clothing store in the city to get your measurements taken for the wedding.

which is why jeonghan finds himself standing outside the classroom you’re currently having a lecture in. his class ended about fifteen minutes earlier than anticipated, so he figured he could just wait for you here, since you’d agreed to go to the store together and meet your mom there.

once your class is finished, the door opens, and a huge number of students walks out of the hall, passing him by. to his surprise, though, he hasn’t been able to spot you yet.

when it seems the last students have left, he frowns to himself. just for good measure, he peeks inside the lecture hall to check if anyone’s still inside.

the hall is almost completely empty, save for you and some other girl who’s talking to you.

but there’s something off about the conversation you’re having, because it doesn’t seem like you and her are friends ― matter of fact, you look colder than ever, and he feels the harshness of your glare even when it’s not directed at him.

but then you look his way, and he realizes he spoke too soon, because you certainly don’t seem to be softening up the slightest bit.

you abruptly walk down the stairs, moving right out of the lecture hall, blatantly ignoring him as if he’s not even there.

he turns around and follows you with a chuckle. “trouble in paradise?”

“why do you care?”

“well, i like a bit of drama.”

“i’m sure you do.”

“seriously though — you’ve been here for two weeks now and already made enemies? going for a new record?”

“why the hell were you even outside my classroom? we were supposed to meet by the entrance at the ground floor.”

“my class ended early. and you’re dodging the question.”

finally stopping in your tracks, you stare at him. that cockiness in his attitude is really starting to get on your nerves.

so you grab his arm, and he looks pleasantly surprised at the way you grab him, pulling him around the corner, away from the crowded corridor.

but then jeonghan suddenly finds himself backed into a corner ― no one has ever backed him into a corner. “what are you doing?”

your fingers glide across his double-breasted blazer, and you have such a tight hold on the fabric that it almost knocks the air out of his lungs.

the expression painted on your face is unreadable to him. cold, perhaps a bit smug, but not sharp.

“you know, i’m starting to think you have a thing for me. being unnecessarily nosy about my reasons for coming here, now listening in on my conversations… i don’t like being put under a loupe,” you shrug, “i’d prefer it if you stayed away from my private life.”

“your private life? we live in the same house.”

“we do. but the thing is ― i’ve seen what you do. observing from the sidelines, watching everyone and everything. you’re not as subtle as you think you are.”

he tilts his head. this is a challenge he’s never had before, and it actually excites him in a way. because who the fuck is this girl who’s onto him and his ways?

“is being observant a bad thing?”

“not with other people, no. with me, it is.”

“you sound self-serving.”

“i am self-serving. i’m also mean, condescending, maybe even a bitch. the only reason i’m tolerating your presence is because i have to.”

jeonghan finds your self-awareness admirable. he doesn’t move from his spot by the wall you’ve pushed him against, but he does lean his face a bit closer to yours. “see, that’s the thing, sis. you don’t have to, just like you didn’t have to move here.”

fuck. he’s got you there, and it causes you to get hostile towards him again. “stay out of my private life, jeonghan.”

“or what? afraid i’ll find something interesting?”

“we may be family now, but that doesn’t mean you can bother me as you please. everyone has secrets ― either you respect mine, or you don’t. i’m not as friendly when people pry into business that clearly isn’t theirs.”

the smug smile you have on your face is borderline provoking. it almost makes him want to pry into your business. something about the way you look at him and touch him just riles him up like nothing else.

he mirrors your expression. “are you threatening me?”

“consider it a piece of advice. it’s all your choice.” you shrug indifferently, and you shoot him a fake smile before backing away from him, heading down the hall by yourself, and jeonghan huffs, leaning his head back against the wall.

well, so much for bonding with you. he’ll admit that perhaps he’s been a bit too persistent in his teasing ― for all he knows, you could’ve been deeply unhappy back home. he should probably hold back on pushing you about your past for now. maybe you’ll even start liking him at some point. even if you haven’t shown much interest in him, he certainly finds you interesting, and he’d like to become closer with you.

and besides, he’s not one to back down from a challenge.

the ride to the store is completely silent. neither of you bother to say a word to each other, and upon your arrival, your mother happily greets you both, pushing you inside the luxurious shop. an employee smiles at you, handing you all a glass of champagne.

it’s a little early in the day, but fuck it. calming your nerves a bit would do you good.

while jeonghan gets his measurements taken, your mother tells you to pick out a few dresses you like, mainly to see what style of dress you’d like to wear to the wedding. once you’ve decided on something, you’ll be getting one custom-made, tailored to your body, all courtesy of jeonghan’s father.

eventually, once they’re done with jeonghan ― since he’s wearing a simple suit to the wedding ― he plops down on one of the soft, velvet chairs, scrolling through his phone, only putting it down when he hears you stepping out of the changing room to show the piece you’ve put on.

by the time you’re changing into your fourth dress, your mother mentions she’ll just quickly head into the bathroom, and once she’s gone, he hears you call out from inside the changing room. “mom! can you zip me up? i think it might be stuck halfway.”

he doesn’t hesitate to walk up to you, pushing the curtain to the side, but it’s only when you notice it’s him doing it that you jump in your spot.

“what the hell are you doing?” you ask with furrowed brows, and he motions for you to turn around.

“your mom went to the bathroom, so the only one currently around to fix your zipper is me.”

you scoff. “well, aren’t i lucky.”

jeonghan tells himself not to focus on your deep cleavage, so he looks down to where his hands are.

as he gently tries to get the zipper to move, since a piece of fabric seems stuck in it, he bites his lip. “i thought about what you said, and i… i think we may have started off on the wrong foot. i’ve been pestering you for… no real reason. sorry about that.”

you’re certainly surprised by the change in approach — but you’re not exactly trusting. “does this mean you’ll stop asking about it?”

“yeah, i will. promise.”

“okay. in that case, i should apologize for being a little too hostile. when something upsets me, i get mean. sorry.”

he lets out a low chuckle, finally managing to separate the fabric from the zipper. “don’t worry. i can handle a mean girl.”

his hand pushes your hair over your shoulder to avoid getting it caught before slowly zipping you up, and the sensation of his cold fingers brushing past your warm skin makes you shiver.

“turn around.” he says, and you raise your hands, not expecting him to compliment you, but jeonghan appears to be full of surprises. “this color looks pretty on you.”

with a raised brow, you say, “don’t push it.”

he laughs at your response, “i’m serious. really, you do. aren’t i supposed to be your overly honest brother?”

unfortunately, he is.

so you cross your arms. “what’d you think of the other dresses?”

“that second one was terrible. you still looked gorgeous, though.”

the comment comes so unexpected that it renders you speechless for a moment, which makes him smirk in satisfaction again.

when the curtain suddenly whips open behind him, you both turn to your mother, who appears ecstatic to hear her ever-so-charming future stepson is being so helpful to her daughter already.

which makes jeonghan figure she must’ve missed the way he’s been eyeing your curves in every single dress you’ve shown so far, just as she’s been missing how your cheeks heat up when you catch him staring at you with that glass of champagne still sitting in his hand.

it’s all you’re able to think about during the ride home, and the rest of the evening.

the house is huge, yet it feels empty when jeonghan isn’t home. he left to go meet up with some friends for dinner after you were done at the store, and you find yourself restless over the things he said today.

you have difficulty trusting people, and you probably shouldn’t trust a guy like him, yet a part of you wants to ― badly, for whatever reason.

it’s the middle of the night when you reach for your bathroom cabinet to get some aspirin, and you come to the realization that you forgot to buy a new pack, so your only option is to either suck it up or head down to the kitchen.

in a white tank top and loose-fitted sweatpants, you quietly make your way down the stairs, huffing when you see all the different cabinets you’re still not used to. it takes you a few minutes of searching until you stumble upon the drawer with medicine, and you take the new pack to smuggle it to your own room.

“what’re you doing?”

the voice behind you popping out of nowhere nearly gives you a heart attack. “jesus fucking christ―can you stop?”

“stop what? i just walked in.” jeonghan replies in the same tone, grabbing your lower arms as if to make sure you remain standing. “i thought you’d be asleep, not ransacking a kitchen drawer.”

“i was supposed to be asleep, but i got a headache. obviously.”

he watches you gesture to the strip of aspirin on the counter and lets out a noise of understanding. “want me to make you a cup of tea? it might help you sleep.”

if you weren’t so tired already, you’d let him, but you shake your head. “no, it’s fine. thanks for offering though. you had a fun night?”

“yeah. maybe you should come with next time. i’m sure my friends would like you.” he almost makes the mistake of mentioning joshua asked for you, remembering to keep that to himself.

there’s something you’re dying to ask him, and you decide to just do it, since he’s standing in front of you anyways.

“are you being this nice to me ‘cause you like me or just for the sake of your father’s marriage?”

he doesn’t reply right away, grabbing a bottle of juice from the fridge first. “my father’s been in serious relationships with other women before. i never cared much for them or their families. does that answer your question?”

“somewhat.”

“you don’t sound convinced.”

“that’s ‘cause you’re not convincing.”

jeonghan’s buttons are easily pushed, at times. you like pushing him.

he smiles to himself, averting his gaze for a moment, only looking back at you once he’s significantly closed the distance between your bodies. “i like you. a lot, actually, even though you’ve mostly just been cussing me out.”

“which you probably deserved.”

“i guess so.” he hums playfully, and you mimic his mannerisms, nearly skipping over the fact that this is the closest you’ve stood to him since meeting each other.

part of you wants him to be even closer.

then his gaze moves down, and you follow it.

even though the top you’re wearing isn’t see-through, its fabric is thin, and you didn’t put on a bra before leaving your room because you didn’t expect you’d be running into anyone, especially not him.

as soon as you realize he’s looking at your breasts, you cover your chest, immediately scolding him. “oh my god, you’re such a pervert.”

of course, he’s hardly impressed, not appearing to care in the slightest that you caught him staring. “cussing me out again? really?”

“i’m heading up to my room. don’t even think about following me.”

“well, shoot. there go my plans for the night.” he remarks, grinning at you. “sleep tight, sis.”

“yeah, whatever. night, hannie.”

hannie. that’s cute. he doesn’t think you’ve ever called him that before.

once you’re gone from his field of view, he bites his lower lip, unable to wipe that damn expression off his face as he thinks of you.

he can’t get enough.

III. WHO IS NOT WITHOUT SIN?

despite being an adult, your mother’s authority still has a hold on you sometimes.

which is why instead of being in bed all morning like you’d planned, you’re currently in a grand church, seated on a bench in the back of the spacious hall with jeonghan next to you.

your parents were adamant on sitting near the front, but when you were walking into the hall just ten minutes ago, it was jeonghan who quickly grabbed you by your arm so that you and him could sit in the back together, and you’re honestly thankful for it.

it’s only been a few weeks since he told you he’d stop bothering you with questions about your past and start being nice to you, and so far, he’s kept his promise.

you wouldn’t say you fully trust him yet, but you definitely are growing fond of him. he’s been showing you around the city, taking you out to lunch, studying with you in the library at university, and it’d be a lie to say you haven’t enjoyed every second of it.

physical touch is clearly a habit of his with people he’s close to — joshua, his father on occasion, as well as some of his other friends he’s introduced you to.

for some reason, you’re always hyper-aware when someone touches you, and you have to admit, he does a great job at easing into the physical contact. it started with some simple touches on your shoulders and upper arms, slowly but smoothly continuing, allowing his hands to sit on your waist and lower back.

and he enjoys the dynamic he has going on with you. it’s mostly lots of sarcastic comments, teasing and joking around, but there’s moments where you just quietly appreciate the other’s presence.

with a sigh, you don’t know if you’re talking to yourself, or him. “i have no idea what i’m doing here. i’m not even catholic. pretty sure my mom isn’t, either.”

“no? not a fan of monotonous singing in a cold hall on sunday mornings?”

a scoff escapes you, followed by a sarcastic quip. “such a way with words, brother dearest.”

jeonghan shrugs, as if he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing. “maybe you should pretend to be sick next time our parents want us to tag along. i’ll have no other option but to stay home and take care of you.”

is it so wrong of him to want you all to himself?

“creative.” you mutter with a grin, simultaneously hiding the effect his words have on your body.

he only gives you that mischievous smile, looking at you from the corner of his eye, and you can’t resist the soft chuckles escaping you.

not much later, he’s sitting closer to you, using it as an excuse to whisper in your ear. “me and my dad aren’t catholic either. i’m guessing it’s just about appearances.”

“of course,” you roll your eyes, “maybe they wanna get married here and this is their way of checking it out.”

jeonghan, very selfishly, doesn’t want to think about his father and your mother getting married. he just smiles at you as a way to conceal his true feelings, and all he can think about is that he should’ve met you first, that you should’ve been his.

so he averts his gaze, attempting to focus on whatever the pastor is saying, hoping it’ll take his mind off it.

the preaching is grim and anything but welcoming. words like hell and damnation are thrown around numerous times in a speech that feels almost like it’s spoken in a foreign language, and he hates it — he hates being here.

but perhaps not as much as you do.

“we must and will all pay for our sins, one way or another—” the pastor’s voice rings through your ears. his words keep replaying in your head, and it begins to make you feel dizzy, heavy existential suffering overtaking your chest, like a loud scream being pushed down but fighting to work its way up your throat.

you have to stop thinking about it.

you have to let it go.

jeonghan takes notice of your change in body language. where you were previously hardly moving a muscle, your breathing has become irregular, chest rising and falling more visibly, and you’re digging your nails into the skin of your thigh.

what he’d do to know what’s going on in that head of yours.

he puts his hand just above your knee to comfort you, and when you look up at him with almost disturbed eyes, all you find in his gaze is — understanding.

jeonghan doesn’t know what it is you’re hiding from him, but he figures you must’ve done something wrong in your past, if this is your reaction to the speech currently being given.

but he’s done wrong too.

his palm is still resting comfortably on your bare skin, and your shaky hand reaches out for his instinctively; it feels so right. instead of letting you put your hand on top of his, he raises it to hold yours, intertwining your fingers.

when you look at him with the corners of your mouth downturned and eyes glossy, your hand clenching his like you need it as much as you need to breathe, he chooses not to give a damn whether your parents choose to get married or not.

he’ll be there for you when you need it — he’ll make you his.

the mass is over before you know it, and as you’ve just walked out of the church, you spot your mother excitedly chatting away with her fiancé, not paying you any mind.

jeonghan catches up with you and gently puts his hand on your lower back. “are you okay?”

blinking a few times, you nod, trying to sound more cheerful than you are. “yeah. it was just… getting to me, is all. i don’t know why.”

but even you know the excuse is not gonna fly with him. he knows you’re hiding something — but he refuses to press you any more than he already has. “i want you to know that… you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. but i’m here for you, okay? i want you to be happy.”

god, you could actually cry.

the words affect you, and you move to hug him, which he embraces like his life depends on it. “thanks, hannie.”

“anytime, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your shoulder, his heart racing when he realizes this is the first time you’ve hugged him like this, and that’s special to him.

the two of you hold one another for a little longer until you release him, and you loop your arm through his. “i’m drained after hearing that speech. wanna go get coffee?”

“you read my mind.”

leaving your parents behind, jeonghan takes you with him, hoping to spend the rest of his day with you.

the café you’ve just arrived at is relatively small, with a few people seated on the terrace outside and an older couple inside. jeonghan urges you to sit down at one of the tables and relax ― he figures you might like that after getting upset in the church.

with your go-to order already in mind, he goes up to the counter to order for both of you, and you’re staring at the people passing by on the sidewalk until a high-pitched shriek pulls you out of it.

“jeonghan? oh my god! it’s been so long, how are you?” the girl at the counter says cheerfully to him, and he’s pretty sure she would’ve pulled him in for a hug if it weren’t for the counter separating them. “i almost didn’t recognize you with the red hair! suits you, though.”

he gives her a polite smile in return. “i wanted the change, i guess.”

“what can i get you?”

“a regular cappuccino and a decaf, please.”

“oh, you got company?”

“girl by the window.”

her expression falters a bit. “is she your date?”

a question he’d prefer not to answer, really. she doesn’t need to know you’re the stepsister he has a massive crush on, so he just gives a vague answer like he always does. “something like that.”

she seems intrigued but refrains from asking any further questions. “alright. you got a stamp card?”

about three minutes later, he puts two cups of coffee on your table, sitting down across from you.

“thanks.” you mention, and jeonghan notices just a slight difference in your behavior. “the barista, is she a friend?”

jeonghan puts two and two together ― or so he thinks ― before taking a first tentative sip of his coffee. “her name’s bitna. we went to high school together.”

“oh, i know her name. she’s in my class, unfortunately.” you mumble mostly to yourself, but he hears it, gesturing for you to tell him more. “you remember when you saw me arguing with a girl before we went to the store a while back? it’s her i was arguing with.”

that raises questions in him. “what was she bothering you for?”

“fuck if i know. she was pressuring me about my reason for transferring, i just… i don’t know.”

“if she bothers you again, just come to me. i’ll deal with her.”

“well, contrary to how she spoke to me, she seemed pretty excited to see you.”

“well, this was our first time seeing each other in two or three years. but she’s always been… expressive.”

“ah.” you hum, averting your gaze when you take your cup, secretly cheering that she’s not some girl he’s seeing. when he taps his fingers on the surface, you watch him leaning forward over the small, wooden table.

“not jealous, are you, sis?” he asks you with a brief quirk of his brow, and you shrug.

“what should i be jealous of?”

“you? nothing. ‘cause you already have me,” he drawls, “from what a friend told me, bitna liked me when we were still in school together, but i highly doubt she still does. i mean, it’s been years.”

“you didn’t like her back?”

“nope. not my type.”

“so what is your type?”

a few strands of his dark red hair dangle before his eyelids when he looks up at you from under his brows. “i don’t know. i don’t think i’ve ever been in love.” but maybe he is now.

even though he doesn’t say the last part out loud, it’s like you can still hear it, and the way he looks at you ― god, has anyone ever looked at you like that?

the silent eye contact speaks volumes, and he moves to stick out his index finger, pointing at your cup. “i think your coffee might be getting a bit cold.”

rolling your eyes at his attempt of taking your attention off him, he just chuckles, and while you and him enjoy each other’s company, you fail to notice how the barista has barely taken her eyes off the two of you since jeonghan sat down.

two weeks pass by, and as your mother’s wedding approaches, you try to ignore the growing feelings for your stepbrother.

you thought it’d go away if you repressed it as much as you could.

which was a big mistake to think. huge.

the relationship you have with jeonghan becomes more complicated by the day. people around you, especially your parents, encourage you and him to bond like a brother and sister would, they even seem to act like you are related in that way — even though you most certainly aren’t — but whenever you’re alone with him, it’s completely different.

every touch you give each other feels more intimate, every kiss he presses to your cheek gets closer to your lips. with every passing day, the boundaries of what should be a familial connection get pushed further, the lines blurring.

and it, frankly, drives you insane.

jeonghan hasn’t directly expressed how he feels about you ― not that you have either, for that matter ― but the way he acts around you and talks to you feels like he’s definitely insinuating it, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep it up.

but you have to, because he can’t be anything but a brother to you.

is it really that selfish of you to just want to have him kiss you? just once?

“honey, it’d be great if you could focus on standing still and upright.” your mother’s stern voice suddenly rings through your ears, shaking you awake from your thoughts.

“right. sorry.” you mutter, glancing at the dressing mirror in front of you. on your bare feet, you’re standing on a small, round display platform so the two assistants of the designer can perfectly see whether the dress you’re gonna be wearing to the wedding fits well and if it needs any adjustments.

the dark navy satin dress just about reaches your knees, and you have to admit ― you feel very pretty in it.

“the waist just needs to be stitched a bit tighter; it’ll enhance her features more.”

“i agree. we could also adjust the straps a bit.”

the assistants converse with your mother about their thoughts, and they follow her out of the living room not much later, leaving you in the same spot, admiring how the dress hugs your curves in the mirror since you’re by yourself anyways ― though not for long.

jeonghan, who’s just arrived home, peeks around the corner, and he leans against the doorframe to gaze at you, even if you’ve already spotted him.

“that dress is gorgeous on you.”

turning around to look at him, you smile at the compliment. “you think?”

he nods, taking a few steps over to you. “i do. looks like the bottom is a bit twisted, though.”

then you face forward again, to the mirror in front of you, and you watch as he’s standing behind you, feeling him tug at the fabric a little as he fixes the back of your dress.

goosebumps erupt on your arms when he suddenly touches your skin. the way his fingers slide from above the knee to your upper thigh is slow, and his voice is a lot closer to you than before.

“how does that feel?” he whispers, lips brushing past your ear, and you make eye contact with him in the mirror, your back pressed against his front.

you have to force yourself not to squeeze your legs together to give yourself some friction. the way he teases you has you aching to be touched. “feels… good.”

ironically, he needs to force himself to have self-restraint more than you do right now. he wants nothing more than to just rip that fabric off your body and get on his knees to taste you, but he can’t. he shouldn’t.

you’re the forbidden fruit, after all.

“i’ve thought about doing this since the day i met you. wrong of me, right?” he rasps, the cold metal of the silver ring sitting around his index finger causing you to shiver.

“yeah—you shouldn’t.” you tell him, yet you grab his arm and lean into his touch, allowing him to roam your body.

if anything, the way you give in to him like this only gets him hotter. “where do you want me to touch you?”

“hannie…”

the nickname has him inhaling sharply, “answer me.”

swallowing, you give him what he wants. “higher.”

your wish is his command — so he moves his fingers up higher, towards your underwear, and you let out a soft gasp, which nearly has him moaning in your ear.

then he rubs over your clothed pussy, and when you lean your head back, on his shoulder, he presses kisses all over your neck and cheek.

with a low voice, he whispers, “you’d let me have you right here, right now? when anyone could walk in?”

when you hum in response, he wonders how the hell he managed to come across a girl this perfect.

he pushes your underwear to the side and watches your lips part as he slides two of his fingers into you.

feeling you squeeze around his fingers makes him ridiculously hard in his jeans. “that’s it, pretty girl. relax for me.”

the gasps leaving your mouth are hot and erotic. hearing his breathing get louder and uneven turns you on even more, and you can only imagine the idea of having his cock inside you instead of his fingers — god, what you’d do to have him in your bed.

his eyes remain on your face. he thinks you just look so fucking pretty when your eyes roll back in pleasure, and it makes him want to drop everyone and everything just to be able to keep watching you like this.

right when he’s about to add another finger, you hear your mother’s voice approaching again, and jeonghan steps away from you, hiding his hands behind his back.

your mother looks surprised at the sight of her stepson standing near you but forgets about it once she notices your red cheeks.

“everything okay, honey? you look like you’re burning up.”

all you can do is stumble out an excuse. “yeah, i’m fine. just, uh… is it warm in here? it’s warm in here.”

she only raises a brow but continues talking to the assistants about the changes to your dress, and jeonghan subtly backs away from you, shooting you a satisfied grin.

it’s hard not to catch the smirk on his face when he leaves the room, sucking the taste of you from his wet fingers once no one but you is looking at him.

when he’s actually gone, you realize what just happened — he didn’t just make a move, he actually went as far as to touch you.

fuck.

IV. SUCCUMB TO YOUR GREED

much to your frustration, you’ve hardly seen jeonghan since he stuck his fingers in you.

he went on a trip to the other side of the country for one of his courses, which took four days, and he only got back from said trip last week. while you’ve seen him around at certain moments since his return, it’s only been briefly or when your parents were in the room.

so, to put it shortly, you pretty much haven’t talked about it.

if anything, nothing has changed in his behavior towards you. he’s still as smug and sarcastic as ever — you’d think nothing happened.

reality begins to kick in when your parents announce they’ll be getting married in a mere two weeks, and the smile you have on your face is so utterly fake that it almost hurts.

all you can think of is how much you want him to yourself.

later that night, when your parents have gone to bed, you head into the kitchen for a snack, and jeonghan stands there, downing a glass of alcohol, it seems.

he lazily eyes you as you come up to him, and you turn the bottle to read the label. “whiskey? pretty sure you shouldn’t be drinking that like you’re doing a shot of vodka.”

“i know. if i’m drinking like this, it’s to get drunk. or at least tipsy.”

“by yourself? at home? you’re not secretly an alcoholic, are you?”

he rolls his eyes with a huff, pinching at your skin, at which you laugh and push him away. “no, i’m not. just wanna stop my mind from racing.”

“is something bothering you?”

he can’t stand how pretty you look, even in the darkness of the kitchen.

“yes.”

“wanna talk about it?”

“no.” he responds, and he swears he finds something of disappointment in your features.

his sweet girl ― how could he not give in?

the glass hits the countertop with a clink when he puts it away. jeonghan moves in to kiss you with full force, his hand behind your head to make sure it doesn’t hurt when your back hits the fridge.

what kills him is that you immediately kiss him back, because this is all he wants. you.

when he pulls away, his lips are swollen and tainted with your lip balm. your hands are on the back of his neck, and he has his one hand on the side of yours, thumb sitting underneath your jaw.

your heavy breathing matches his, and you lean in to kiss him again, but he hesitantly stops you — as if he needs to restrain both of you from letting this get out of hand.

“i’m sorry.” he has to push the words out, letting go of you, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and its matching glass before disappearing from the kitchen.

in disbelief of what just happened, you can only blink, dumbfounded.

the kiss is all you can think about whenever you see him the following days. despite everything that’s happened between you when you were alone, neither of you has brought it up, nor has your behavior towards each other changed in any way.

perhaps it’s the lavish wedding your mother’s so busy with that you can barely even think about it properly. the two weeks pass by so fast that you begin to process it on the day of the event itself, and just like that, you’re standing beside jeonghan by the church’s altar, watching with a blank stare as his father says the vows you couldn’t care less about.

what you do care about, though, is how criminally dashing your stepbrother looks in his suit, which matches with your dress. you can’t help yourself, glancing at him from the corner of your eye every now and then, and when he momentarily shifts his weight from one leg to the other, he purposefully brushes past your leg.

as your parents walk down the aisle together after being pronounced husband and wife, everyone’s attention being on them, jeonghan leans down to whisper in your ear, “we’re officially brother and sister now.”

“lucky me.”

he plays with your earring for a moment until you swat his hand away. “oh, don’t act as if you don’t like me.”

“i find you highly annoying, actually.”

“whatever makes you sleep at night, pretty girl.”

he’s given you so many compliments at this point that you’re able to hide the redness of your cheeks, but it still makes you feel like a schoolgirl getting praised by her crush on the inside.

all you can do is ache for him. have you ever pined for someone like this? you doubt it.

the wedding and everything that comes with it goes by smoothly, just as planned — except for your own agenda.

maybe it was selfish of you to hope that jeonghan would touch you again during the night of the wedding.

but he still hasn’t. and it’s starting to piss you off. first he nearly has sex with you, then radio silence, then he kisses you, followed by radio silence again — and you’re planning to find out just how far you need to go to make him cave.

it’s only a week later when the perfect opportunity arises, all courtesy of joshua.

would you consider yourself a party girl? once a month, maybe. you overall like to stay in more, but you welcome the occasional night of letting loose.

you very subtly mention the event to jeonghan on purpose. “are you also going to the party one of joshua’s friends is hosting tomorrow night? i forgot the guy’s name—”

“you’re going to mingyu’s party? with who?”

oh, you definitely detect that surprise in his tone. “just a few friends from class. they asked me if i wanted to come with, and joshua asked if i came as well, so… will i see you there?”

“maybe.” he answers with a furrowed brow, leaving the room, immediately texting mingyu about the details of the party, despite having declined the invitation two days prior because he wasn’t really feeling it.

and just like that, around eleven o’clock, he finds himself getting ready for the party, cursing himself for the way you make him act.

he hasn’t seen you since this afternoon, since you told him you’d go with one of your friends after class and get ready with her.

with his hair slicked back — save for a few strands hanging in front of his forehead — and a leather jacket thrown on, he heads out to mingyu’s place.

it’s the host of the party who comes up to greet him. “jeonghan! good to see you, i almost thought you weren’t coming.”

“i’m not planning on staying long. just wanted to say hi since life’s been busy recently.”

“i met your sister. she’s nice.” mingyu says, and it feels as if a switch flips in his head.

“yeah. where is she, by the way? i actually gotta talk to her about something.”

the taller of the two points to the kitchen. “i think she was getting herself a drink.”

“alright, thanks. i’ll talk to you later, yeah?” jeonghan says, giving mingyu a squeeze in his arm, which he reciprocates.

the party started about an hour and a half ago, the room already warm and reeking of alcohol and sweat.

when he enters the kitchen, he doesn’t see you anywhere at first — that is, until you turn around.

you look like a dream. perhaps even that’s an understatement.

a tight, black satin mini-dress with a sweet-heart neckline and a gold necklace sitting on top of your exposed collarbones. your makeup suits you perfectly — you look gorgeous.

what tops it all off is that sweet smile that rises to your face as soon as you recognize him.

“when did you get here, hannie?”

“i, um…” he looks you up and down once more, almost forgetting to answer you, “just now.”

you move in to give him a quick hug, and he has to hold back from letting his hands roam too low, sucking in a breath when you press your body against his even more than usual.

“wanna do a shot with me?”

“depends on how many you’ve had already.”

“only two. i’m a big girl, jeonghan. i don’t need my brother to take care of me.”

a funny statement, considering you’d actually like him to take care of you.

“it’s not you i’m worried about, baby.” he responds, mimicking your tone and attitude, which makes you grin.

you’ve shoved the tiny glass filled with vodka into his hand in the blink of an eye, and he clinks his glass with yours before downing the bitter liquid, feeling it burning in his throat.

“that was my only alcohol for the night. i drove here,” he informs you as he’s putting the glass on the counter, “you’re coming with me after this, right?”

you push your tongue against the inside of your cheek as you think of the best way to answer him. “well, it depends.”

the tension between you grows when he looks you in the eye. “depends on what?”

“don’t play dumb.”

he’s about to say something when he catches you briefly glancing at joshua, who’s absentmindedly checking his phone at the other side of the room.

oh, hell no.

“you’re kidding, right?” jeonghan scoffs, appalled at the idea of you landing in his best friend’s bed. “him, of all people?”

you’ve come to be so comfortable with him that you don’t mind being a little spiteful. “what? he’s cute.”

“i don’t care if he is,” he gets closer to you, his tone lower and sterner than before, “he’s my closest friend.”

“so? he doesn’t seem to mind that i’m your sister. besides, plenty of girls have a thing for being with their brother’s best friend, and vice versa. what’re you gonna do about it?”

jeonghan’s frustration suddenly dies down like a fire being put out, because he’s finally realizing what you’re doing, and his cockiness comes right back to his features. “you don’t even like him like that. you’re just trying to provoke me.”

well, shit. there goes plan a.

“no i’m not.”

“you definitely are.” he smirks gleefully, knowing damn well he’s right.

“i like joshua enough to let him give me a fun night.”

he has to dig his nails into the palm of his hand to stop himself from saying he’d give you a better one, but a part of him doesn’t think you’ll go as far as to go home with joshua.

“if you say so. have fun, sweetheart.”

“i will.” you tell him, leaving him by himself in the kitchen, and he rolls his eyes.

being at this party is slowly but steadily pissing him off. he can’t have fun or focus on anyone or anything else as long as you’re in this room, knowing you’re preparing to make use of joshua’s little crush on you. and to what end? to make him jealous?

he figures this, in a way, is the result of his own actions. he’s been sending mixed signals towards you about his feelings. the stunt he pulled at your dress fitting was uncharacteristically impulsive of him, as was that late-night kiss in the kitchen, and it’s not that he doesn’t want you like that ― it’s that he can’t.

or shouldn’t.

after two hours of unbearable small talk and several glasses of non-alcoholic beer, jeonghan decides he’s had enough. he will be taking you home tonight, one way or another.

from the other side of the room, he watches joshua lean closer to your face just to say something in your ear over the loud music — and he’s touchy. shua only gets touchy with those who are either friends, family, or people he wants to pursue.

a raw sense of possessiveness begins to swirl in his gut, the feeling of it reaching the tips of his fingers.

envy is a rare thing for jeonghan. usually, he’s the one people are envious of, as arrogant as that may sound. it’s not something he brags about, really.

but when he’s envious, he gets selfish. a little manipulative, even, if necessary to get what he wants.

so his legs move to get to you before joshua can do anything he doesn’t approve of, but then someone calls out his name.

“jeonghan? hey!”

he turns his head to find the last person he cares about right now. matter of fact, he really doesn’t want to talk to her, since she’s bothered you a while ago, yet out of good manners, he doesn’t show it, remaining somewhat friendly. “bitna. nice to see you again.”

the girl smiles a little too brightly at him for his liking. “are you in a hurry? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“no, i just… it’s nothing.”

while his head is spinning from sheer jealousy, he’s about to walk away from bitna when she speaks up again.

“i actually wanted to ask you something.” just the mere sound of her voice makes him press his lips together out of annoyance ― is it not obvious to her he has other matters to attend to?

“you do?”

“look, i, um… i’ve liked you for a while now, and i was just wondering if you wanted to… go out with me sometime?”

the confession falls on deaf ears, since jeonghan can only focus on the fact that his best friend is making a move on you across the room. “i’m—i’m sorry. i can’t really talk right now. see you later?”

bitna lets out a baffled scoff when he pushes past her to walk to the other side of the room, and she begins to get a faint idea of the reason behind his hasty behavior when she notices him approaching you and joshua, and she watches the interaction from afar like a hawk.

jeonghan runs a hand through his half-long hair and walks over to you, one hand on joshua’s shoulder and the other on your upper arm, as if greeting two friends.

“there you guys are. been looking all over for you.” he puts up a smile relatively naturally to appear convincing.

joshua, with a drink still in hand, looks a little bummed that his best friend had to come over to interrupt the conversation, but his fondness for him quickly returns.

“ready to go?” jeonghan turns his attention to you, and you have a hard time keeping your balance.

“already? i just got here, hannie!” you exclaim, your usual calm and quiet demeanor replaced by an outgoing and giggly one. he thinks it’s cute to see the effect alcohol has on you, though he doesn’t think you’re drunk, just very tipsy.

“i know, i’d prefer to stay too, but i promised your mom i’d get you home at a… somewhat reasonable hour. got the family gathering in the morning, remember?”

honestly, you can hardly even call it a gathering. you simply made the deal you’d be home to see your parents off before they go on their honeymoon, and it’s a perfect excuse to take you home now ― though you certainly could refuse him. if you wanted to.

but jeonghan knows better. you want only one person here, and it’s not joshua.

you let out an exaggerated huff. “fuck, i forgot.” but even in your less-than-sober state of mind, your infatuation for your stepbrother floods your senses, and you desperately want to be around him, ready to leave everyone and everything behind.

so you take a step towards him, nearly losing your balance, yet he catches you with ease. for someone appearing on the frail side, he’s actually a lot stronger than you’d think.

he puts his arm around your waist to ensure you don’t fall, and you happily wave at his best friend, who’s still standing beside you. “bye, shua.”

his friendly smile briefly returns to his face at your sweetness. “bye. drink some water when you get home, okay?”

you nod, walking out of the place with jeonghan’s arm still around you.

the road back home is quiet, and a bit of a blur to you, if you’re honest. he helped put your seatbelt on when you were struggling with the buckle and proceeded to force you to down an entire bottle of water, which you did with a pout.

with barely suppressed laughter, you and jeonghan walk up to the front door of the manor, and he has to constantly shush you to keep it down so your parents don’t wake up.

the house is completely quiet, save for the creaking of the chandelier above the stairs in the main hall. he guides you up until you finally make it to your room, where you let yourself fall onto the bed with a loud thud, eliciting a snort from him. “nope. to the bathroom you go.”

“ugh, to do what?”

“to drink some water, brush your teeth, et cetera. c’mon.”

“but ‘m so tired, hannie.”

“i know, baby. i’ll help you.” he coos, and your heart beats just a bit faster at the nickname.

so he helps you up and gets you to the bathroom, holding your jaw to brush your teeth. he’s awfully focused on the task, and you’re just staring at him the entire time, causing him to laugh.

“staring is rude.”

“maybe i am rude.”

he laughs again. “sure.”

you spit the toothpaste out in the sink and finally get some water in your system, and it feels like the sobering up of your senses is already happening.

it doesn’t make you act any less bold, though.

when he wants to say goodnight, you grab his arm. “wait—can you just—help me with one last thing?”

“what?”

“my dress. it’s so fucking tight that i barely got it on myself, my friend helped put it on. please?”

he looks down at the dress and back up at your face, and either you’re playing him to get him to undress you or you’re genuinely clueless.

but jeonghan tells himself he can do this. “turn around.” his voice is a bit lower than before, and you shiver at his tone before doing as he says.

the faint sound of the laces slowly being undone brings goosebumps to your skin, and you know it means he’s looking at the now visible clasp of the lacy black bra you’re wearing underneath the dress.

“were you hoping to impress someone with this tonight?” he somehow still manages to sound sweet despite the snark in his attitude. “joshua?”

it makes you look at him over your shoulder. “he’s cute. just… not really my type.”

he chuckles to himself, your back still facing him. “yeah, i could’ve told you that.”

you beat around the bush just for the sake of doing so. “why? how would you know what my type is?”

as he moves on to the laces covering your lower back, he pulls on them a little harder than before. “it’s unlike you to play the fool. especially with me.”

all you can do is scoff.

once he’s reached the last lace, he glances at your body for a moment before backing away from you. “change into some comfortable clothes and get some sleep, alright?”

with the dress still on, you turn around to face him again. “are you serious?”

“what?”

“you bring me home early as soon as your best friend is about to kiss me, and now you’re just not gonna act on your feelings? all of that for nothing?”

“not for nothing,” he says coolly, tilting his head, “i made sure joshua didn’t get to make his move on you.”

honestly, you’d be pissed off at him if you actually liked shua in that way. what does piss you off, though, is that he won’t make a move on you.

“i could always call him,” you suggest, though you wouldn’t act on it, but he doesn’t need to know that, “maybe he’ll give me what you won’t.”

but as always, jeonghan sounds unfazed. always the smartest guy in the room. “he’s too sweet for you. a good catholic kid. he probably wouldn’t even know what to do with you.”

“like you would.”

“i think we both know the answer to that question.”

“oh, please. you barely even touched me.”

“true. but you must’ve enjoyed it, since you’re here, asking for more.”

“and what’s stopping you from giving me that?”

“we’re family now.”

“says the guy who calls me baby and kisses me on the lips,” you scoff, making it your mission to get him to give in.

so you shrug off the dress that was loosely clinging onto your body to drop it to the floor, and the second he lays eyes on the lacy lingerie, you know he’s practically done for.

“it’s simple. say you don’t want me, and i’ll let it go.”

there’s something charming about his brain short-cutting now that you’re standing in front of him like this, and you’re backing him into the corner so easily. “sweetheart―”

“have you thought about it, since you touched me? having me like this?” you interrupt teasingly, and when he doesn’t say anything, you can’t help but smile in realization. “oh my god, you have.”

he’s clearly doing his best to maintain the untouchable persona, but even you see the truth. “it doesn’t change anything.”

you want him to act out for once, see what’s underneath that exterior. something about him makes you want to be bold — yet completely you.

so you reach behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra, and he has to swallow to keep it together.

if anything, he’s a bit baffled. he didn’t expect you to undress right here, right now, in front of him. but you just do it, looking as confident as ever.

with two small steps forward, you put your hands on his chest to push him back on the chair behind him. his breath hitches, and he tries to hold you back, failing to sound convincing in the slightest. “we shouldn’t.”

“you touched me first. you started it.” you shrug, moving to sit in his lap, and he does his best to focus on anything but your bare chest.

“i know that, but… i can’t. regardless of how much i want to.” he breathes out while your hands move from his cheeks to the back of his neck.

“i wore this set for you, y’know. just like that dress. hell, why do you think i even went to that party?”

oh.

sure, he figured you messed with joshua on purpose to rile him up — but he didn’t think you’d planned the whole night like this.

it’s something he would do, and a certain sense of pride rushes through him.

he makes the mistake of looking down where your nearly naked body grinds against his clothed crotch, and it makes him sick.

because the feeling of it is so much better than it already was in his wet dream.

“if i fuck you now—” he inhales sharply with his hand trembling on your lower back, “it won’t end there. i’ll want you again, and again, and again.”

it’s the only reason he hasn’t given in fully yet, something he realized after touching you the way he did and nearly getting caught.

he likes you more than he’s ever liked anyone, you’re addictive to him, and he knows that once he crosses this line with you, it’s over for him. he’ll want nothing more than to be with you, to fuck you and love you and have you be his.

even more than he already does.

“did you think i wanted this to be a one-time thing?” you ask, putting your hands on his jaw. “fuck me, hannie. please.”

jeonghan takes one look at your eyes and decides to say goodbye to that last thread his honor was hanging onto.

your kiss is gentler than anticipated. perhaps it’s because this is the first time you both fully get to savor it, taste it ― it’s so sickeningly sweet that he almost forgets you’re practically naked on top of him, while he’s still fully clothed.

he shrugs his jacket off with ease, throwing it onto the floor, your lips on his again before he can comprehend it. his hands roam all over your body, his breathing speeding up as his kisses trail down your jaw, to your neck, the sensation of his tongue on the skin by your collarbone making you feel weak.

with your legs around him, he gets up from the chair and puts you down on your bed. “i didn’t get to make you cum last time, so i should probably finish that, right?”

“but i want―”

“i know what you want.” he cuts you off, removing his shirt, smirking to himself when you shamelessly stare at his abs. “i’ll give it to you, but i wanna taste you first.”

he gets on the mattress in just his jeans, the waistband of his underwear peeking out from the top of his pants, and you like the sight of his bare chest.

unlike his usual patient self, jeonghan refuses to waste any more time. the way he acts isn’t rushed, but he’s got a certain hunger clawing at his chest that’s fighting to get out ― and it only really wants one thing.

your hands quickly reach out to grab his dark red hair once he’s got his head between your legs, his fingers firmly clasped on your thighs. he’s greedy, mouth and nose buried in your wetness.

“fuck—jeonghan—”

it’s when he hums in satisfaction that your eyes roll back. you prop yourself onto your elbows to watch him run his tongue over your pussy, savoring the taste of you.

the sheer emptiness in your gut while you’re getting wetter by the second is driving you insane. you’re clenching around nothing, aching to be filled up, and he’s so mean for not doing so already.

his lips latch onto your clit, and you inhale sharply, your hold on his hair even harder than before, making him moan. he’s rubbing his clothed cock against the mattress while his hands and mouth are on your body, and he’s close to feeling fucking ecstasy.

when he comes back up for air, he’s breathing heavily, moving upwards to kiss your stomach. you take his wrists to bring his hands up to your breasts, and he’s almost hypnotized by your greed.

“fuck, hannie, ‘m so wet—just take me. please?” you beg, and he just can’t help it; he can’t refuse you.

he sits up on his knees to unbutton his jeans, fingers trembling in anticipation as he watches you glance at him.

shrugging off the last of his clothes, he reaches for the condom he’s got sitting in his wallet, rolling it on swiftly. he almost laughs at the way your eyes follow his every move.

“put your legs up.” he mutters, and you mindlessly follow his command, feeling the warm buds of his fingertips on your calves as he puts your legs over his shoulders.

jeonghan pushes into you slowly and gently, allowing you to adjust. you bite your lower lip with a soft grunt while your heat wraps around him.

your hands immediately reach for him, and he enjoys the feeling of your hands on his skin.

“i can’t believe you orchestrated this whole night. were you thinking about this when you nearly kissed my best friend?”

all you can do is let out a playful laugh. “would it be so terrible if i said i was?”

“a little. but i like terrible,” he shrugs casually, and you force yourself not to get caught up in the silver chain dangling above your face.

it’s then that you realize it’s a cross necklace.

the irony of it makes you chuckle, and jeonghan catches you staring at it, his eyes lighting up dauntingly.

“to think our parents got such a wonderful wedding in that church, and all i wanted was to fuck you right then and there,” his fingers dig into your thighs as he keeps his pace slow but deep, teasing you to no end, “i fucking knew you wanted me too. decided to make me jealous just to get me to fuck you — so dirty.”

“you’re the one fucking your sister—”

“says the girl who begged to be fucked by her brother,” he moves his hips harder, making you moan, “but don’t worry, baby. i don’t judge.”

he’s awfully cocky about the situation, which you do think is hot, but it also riles you up.

completely taken aback when you flip the two of you over, he’s suddenly got you sitting on top of him, and you’re shaking your head. “don’t start things you can’t finish, hannie.”

the lazy smirk he always sports falters when you slowly rock back and forth, his cock twitching inside you.

“fine. then you should finish it,” he mutters breathily, failing to come across as smug as usual, giving you full control to do whatever you want with him.

he hisses through gritted teeth when you clench around him, his hands finding their way to your hips.

“oh, fuck.” he grunts, briefly closing his eyes in pleasure, and you think it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. “you feel so fucking good, baby.”

as his breathing begins to quicken, he circles your clit with his thumb, causing you to shudder on top of him.

“shit! don’t—don’t do that, not yet—”

“i want you to cum around me. you can do that, right?” he urges you, feeling close to begging you simply because he wants to see your face and feel your body shake on him.

humming a response, you move your hips faster, trying to give him what he wants while simultaneously chasing your own high.

“oh my god, jeonghan—”

“that’s it, baby. doing so well for me.”

his praise is enough for you to hit your climax, your thighs trembling beside him, and the tightening of your muscles hits him to the point it makes him hit his peak as well.

once you’ve come down from it, he flips you over, going right at it again and again, until it’s deep into the night and you’re both spent.

your head lies comfortably on his chest, trailing his warm skin with your finger.

he’s softly stroking through your hair. “i can’t believe you did all of that. poor joshua became collateral damage.”

“you don’t sound like you care that much.”

“he’ll get over it.”

“you’re so mean.”

“hey, you took part in it too, sweetheart.”

“ugh, you’re right. you know, maybe i should go to the church. commit to the catholic confessions and all that.”

jeonghan scoffs. “what would you even say?”

you shrug, the sarcasm dripping from your words. “forgive me father, for i have sinned. i was at this party, and this guy who likes me was about to make a move on me, but i pretty much just left him by himself to go home with my evil stepbrother, who then proceeded to rail me into another dimension—”

“since when am i evil?”

“since the day i met you, if not long before.”

he laughs at the irony of it. “perhaps.”

V. FAMILY TREE

life is surprisingly good when you’re in a secret relationship, jeonghan finds.

whenever your parents are asleep, he quietly moves to your room, slipping under the covers to find you naked and wet and aching for him. he’ll have his hand under your jaw as he buries himself inside you to the hilt with slow, deep strokes.

at breakfast, while your parents are completely oblivious, jeonghan has to fight the urge to smirk, knowing he was inside you a mere hour before.

the sex is ridiculously good ― but he feels as if you’re still closed-off to him. that distance that he felt in those first weeks of being around you has decreased, but it’s still there. he wants nothing more than to be trusted with whatever’s clearly on your mind, but he figures you don’t. not completely.

as jeonghan repeatedly knocks on your door to get you to hurry up for your trip to the cinema, he’s suddenly greeted by your mother walking down the hall, motioning for him to come over to her, away from your door.

“jeonghan,” your mother says softly, “i wanted to thank you for taking such good care of my daughter. she seems… happier, these days. she’s fond of you.”

the heartfelt words make him smile genuinely. “i’m fond of her, too. she’s good company, and i… well, i’ve never had a sister, so…”

“it’s wonderful to see you two get along so well, especially after last year. she was so torn up about it.”

“last year?” he asks, confused.

your mother in turn looks confused as well. “she hasn’t told you?”

“no, i don’t think so.”

she looks behind her for a second to check if the hallway is still empty, proceeding to speak in a more hushed tone. “oh, it was terrible. one of the girls who was a member of her sports team fell to her death while they were all gathered at a party together. the police officers weren’t on the scene quick enough, so all the girls saw the body, and the blood... it took a toll on her, she cuts me off whenever i try to talk to her about it. but since moving here, i suppose she’s gotten the fresh start she needed.”

well, that’s an interesting twist, to say the least.

how traumatic that experience must’ve been for you ― he doesn’t know why you wouldn’t tell him something like that. do you really not trust him at all?

when he takes you out to the city just five minutes later, he pretends not to know a thing about your mother’s words to him. he’s eager to wait and see when you’ll open up.

it takes you several weeks more to do so. you’re in his room, and he’s laying down on his back while you’re on your stomach next to him, pushing yourself up on your elbows, fiddling with your fingers. “do you think what we’re doing is wrong?”

“million-dollar question, isn’t it?” he shrugs while looking up at the ceiling. “it feels good to us. why would it be wrong?”

“everyone would disapprove. our parents would probably disown us, one might argue it’s even, you know… morally wrong.”

he blinks at your words slowly, voice slightly gentler than before.

“perhaps you should start looking at things differently. y’know, i ask myself a certain question sometimes.” jeonghan finally meets your gaze, and it’s almost hypnotic. “who will you be when no one can stop you?”

“and what’s your answer?”

“as for me — someone who doesn’t live by the rules. i live my life however i want. if that means doing something other people consider to be ‘wrong’… so be it.”

“how far would you take that? how wrong?”

“as wrong as you want it.”

he notices your breathing quicken. his eyes flick down to your collarbone before moving back up again. your hand faintly brushes past his, and he goes out of his way to put your hand on his chest, so utterly desperate to have that intimacy with you at every possible opportunity.

“can i ask you something, hannie?”

“always.”

“would you still like me if i said i was guilty of something?”

jeonghan refrains from making a playful comment when he takes notice of the seriousness in your tone, like you’re about to confess something. “what’re you guilty of?”

“i…” your breath hitches in your throat, and your impulsivity fails you, “no, forget i said anything.”

that’s when he turns his head to look at you. “hey, don’t do that. you can tell me anything.”

“i want you to still like me, jeonghan.”

he feels genuinely touched that you value the bond you two have as much as he does. “sweetheart, you could tell me you’re secretly the head of a drug cartel and i’d still like you. c’mon, tell me.”

you fiddle with his fingers to avoid looking at him, but you do begin to open up. “last year, i was a member of the university hockey club. i was close with a couple of my teammates, but not all of them. in february, there was a party on campus to celebrate the nearing end of the sports season, just like every year.”

jeonghan can almost see your throat tightening up. your struggle is so utterly visible that it makes him grow worried.

but he stays quiet.

“at a certain point that night, it was so hot inside that i went up to the rooftop to get some fresh air, since we were high up in the building with the party. about ten minutes later, one of my teammates also came up to the roof. we hated each other’s guts since the start. it was pretty obvious that she had too much to drink, but she began to just… talk shit to me, saying the team was better off without me and other teammates i was close with, and i got riled up, ‘cause i knew she didn’t like me at all. so our fight eventually became physical ― she tried to claw at my hair and face, and i pushed her away from me in the heat of the moment, i didn’t see that she was standing at the edge until she…”

he finishes the sentence as you refuse to do so yourself.

“until she’d already fallen to her death.”

you nod as a confirmation, and he finally manages to catch your gaze, a pair of glossy eyes staring back at him.

all kinds of questions run through his head. “what happened afterwards?”

“hannie…” you softly protest, heart crumbling with every word that comes out of your mouth, because it makes you feel so fucking vulnerable ― you can’t bear the thought of him leaving you or judging you.

he hums, tilting your chin upwards so you keep facing him. “no, baby. tell me.”

the nickname rolls off his tongue so naturally that you nearly miss it. “everyone who was there that night was questioned. there were no cameras, no witnesses, everyone knew she had a problem with alcohol… so i… i just said the same as everyone else. i lied. when the police ruled it an accident, everyone believed it.”

“it was.”

“except it wasn’t, because i pushed her.” you bury your face in your hands for a moment. “the shock hit me so hard that i went to the bathroom and threw up everything i ate that night. but once it wore off, i just… i didn’t feel guilty. i don’t care that she fell to her death ― it was unfortunate but bound to happen. and that’s what scares me, ‘cause i’m―i’m supposed to feel guilty about this, right? what kind of shitty person am i that i just don’t feel that? what the fuck is wrong with me?”

everything suddenly falls into place. the threatening arguments you had with bitna, the way you nearly had a breakdown at the church, the distance you’ve been so eager to keep since the day you stepped foot in this place.

this is what you were trying to run away from by coming here.

you don’t feel guilty because you pushed a girl plummeting to her death ― you feel guilt because you simply can’t bring yourself to care.

“did you want to push her?”

“jeonghan.” your tone is close to hostile, but his calm demeanor somehow pushes through.

“answer the question.”

“i—”

the stumble of an answer makes him smirk, and his face inches closer to yours, not allowing you to try and give the answer that’s clearly not the truth. “you did. you’re glad she’s dead.”

“stop. just stop.”

“you’re just saying this because you feel obligated to, not because you mean it. tell me how you really feel. i won’t judge you.”

every word coming out of his mouth tears you open little by little, exposing your biggest secret and darkest thoughts. but if he’s already deducted it — why not tell him?

it’s like you hit an internal switch. the stress begins to leave your features like he’s never seen before.

he finds it intriguing.

you finally give in and tell him the truth. “okay, fine. i hated that bitch to the bone, and i’m glad she’s dead. but i guess i still have some level of guilt, because now that i’ve done what i did… what kind of person does that make me?”

jeonghan flinches. he’s heard those words before — in his own head.

he wants to tell you that it makes you a lot more like him than he thought, to the point that it almost scares him. you’ve just trusted him with your darkest secret, yet he’s afraid to trust you with his.

what would you think of him? would you still want him the way he wants you?

“it makes you someone who had no choice. she was drunk, looking to start a fight, and you defended yourself.”

“do you really believe that?”

“i do. good and bad are a matter of perspective, and i believe you did the right thing. you’ll let go of that guilt with time. trust me.”

finally telling someone what you’ve had on your chest for so long is freeing, and he hardly appears as repulsed as you’d imagined him to be.

your voice becomes smaller. “but what if i don’t?”

“then i’ll help you. you’re my sister; i’ll take care of you, always.” he promises you, intertwining his fingers with yours, and you don’t know how to respond at first, solely because you don’t think you’ve ever been loved like this ― unconditionally.

with his free hand, he gently runs his hand through your hair, and it’s like you can finally relax now that you know jeonghan sees you as you are and cares for you just as much as before.

“thank you, hannie.” you mutter, laying your head down on his chest, and he presses a kiss on top of your head.

“anytime, sweetheart.”

his shoulders sink in relief under you. all he wants is the people he cares for to put their faith in him, and you’ve just proved you trust him with everything you have.

with you on his mind and in his arms, he drifts off into a deep slumber.

it’s remarkable how your parents remain completely oblivious of everything that’s been going on right underneath their noses. there’s been a few close calls, but nothing serious.

the last thing you expected after opening up to him was for you to grow even closer than you already were, yet that’s exactly what happened.

jeonghan has been particularly insatiable over the course of the past weeks. being all handsy, urging you to stay in his bed a little longer in the mornings, begging you to let him bury his head between your legs when he’s already done so several times — whatever’s in his system these days, it is strong.

not that you’re complaining.

being so comfortable with each other apparently also means pushing limits; the limits to possibly being caught, that is.

pushing his fingers inside you underneath the table when you’re having lunch with your parents, sneaking off into an empty classroom at university, showering together despite everyone being home ― the list goes on. there’s something thrilling about the idea of indulging in something you know you shouldn’t.

one line you haven’t crossed yet is slipping away from a charity event hosted by jeonghan’s father, though it seems that’ll be changing tonight.

jeonghan wasn’t planning on fucking you while the guests are still here, in his own home ― but you just look so gorgeous in that dress, and his jealousy is slowly but steadily going through the roof with every man coming up to you, clearly eyeing your dangerously low neckline.

as you’re heading to grab a new glass of champagne, you’re greeted by your dear stepbrother, and you’ve come to know him well enough to recognize that smug expression painted on his face.

“no.” you immediately tell him, and he huffs.

“oh, c’mon. you’re so not having fun right now.”

“can’t we just wait until everyone’s left?”

“on the contrary. this is the perfect timing.”

“yeah, for you, i bet. are you all hot and bothered, hannie?”

“i am, and you’re the only one who can fix it.”

the sarcasm might as well drip from your tongue. “wow, i feel so flattered.”

while your full attention is on jeonghan, and his attention is on you, neither of you are aware that joshua, who was invited alongside his parents, has been staring at you two since jeonghan approached you.

truth be told, joshua’s had the idea something was off about your dynamic that first moment he ever saw you interact with him, in the hallway at university.

jeonghan has never looked at anyone like he looks at you — full of intrigue, full of longing for something he can’t quite put his finger on. which he dismissed at first.

in spite of their close friendship, there is a certain barrier between them. there’s certain lines joshua won’t cross that jeonghan most definitely will, and perhaps he’s found his match in you.

but he still assumes that the relationship you have is platonic. surely it has to be.

only with each passing day, he begins to doubt that.

he’s itching to find out how you are with each other when you’re alone, and it’s a terrible thing to listen in on a conversation, but he wants this. desperately, for whatever reason.

he can’t help himself when he notices you going after him. following you from a distance, he quickly recognizes the room you head into is jeonghan’s.

the walls prove relatively thick, and his attempt to listen in from the outside fails, because he can’t hear anything.

so he blames the three glasses of champagne he downed earlier for making him go on with hasty decision-making as he quietly pushes the door handle down, not planning on actually entering the room, only having the door ajar.

jeonghan’s room is as big as a spacious apartment, so it’s no surprise joshua doesn’t see you anywhere at first.

it’s relatively quiet, with the crackling fireplace making the most noise, and he’s about to turn away from the door when he hears your voice in the background.

“you’re so impatient.”

then there’s jeonghan’s voice. “sue me.”

it remains somewhat quiet after that, until joshua hears noise he can’t make anything out of.

his curiosity gets the better of him, so he takes a few steps forward, peeking around the corner — only to find you together on top of the bed with messy hair and hands all over each other.

he’s taken aback with eyes blown wide as he watches the girl he likes half-naked and writhing underneath his best friend.

he hates how pretty you both look with the light of the fire reflecting on your skin.

jeonghan is completely caught up in the feeling of your heat around him when he throws his head back, but then he catches movement near the corner — and suddenly the two of them lock eyes.

of course he sees how borderline horrified joshua looks at the scene in front of him; he just can’t bring himself to care.

if anything, he simply ensures you keep your head turned the other way while burying himself deeper inside you, shooting his friend one of his classic lazy grins. your moans are the last thing joshua hears before he blinks to himself, leaving the room, nearly stumbling over his own feet in the process.

and jeonghan can only let out a satisfactory chuckle to himself, continuing to fuck you as if he didn’t just catch his best friend staring at the two of you.

matter of fact, it’s not until several days later that he sees him again, at university.

the hallway is as good as empty when joshua shakes his head at the sight of him. “i don’t wanna talk to you.”

“no? why’s that?”

shua grits his teeth. “how long has this been going on between you and her?”

“not long before our parents got married.”

“that’s several months.” he exclaims with his face even more horrified than before. “why the fuck would you hide something like this from me for so long?”

“why would i tell you at all, shua?”

a pang of hurt shoots through joshua’s chest, and he presses his lips together. “because i liked her.”

“and how was i supposed to know that?”

“you always know these things before i know them myself. don’t tell me you weren’t aware.”

jeonghan catches the hurt in his voice and decides to tone things down. “you’re right. i knew how you felt. i guess i didn’t know how to tell you.”

“look, whatever you’re doing with her needs to stop.”

well, so much for toning things down. he thinks he much prefers being clear and forward instead. “no it doesn’t.”

“jesus christ — you’re fucking your stepsister, jeonghan! how can you be remotely normal about this?”

where joshua’s anger rises, all that surges through jeonghan’s body is pride.

yeah, perhaps the whole thing should make him feel ashamed instead of boosting his ego, but it’s not like he hasn’t already crossed the line of what is and isn’t right. what’s the harm in going even further?

“i’m normal about it ‘cause i like doing it,” he shrugs, hardly attempting to hide his enjoyment, “we’re both adults. we already were when we met several months ago, we weren’t raised together, we’re not related in the slightest. so what does it matter?”

“oh, c’mon. she’s family to you now.”

“true. but i don’t care if i have to break up my father’s marriage for this, shua. she’s mine, one way or another.”

“is it just physical?”

“you’re asking me if i love her?” he nods for a moment, admitting how he feels about you. “i do. a lot. i don’t think i’ve ever felt this way about anyone else.”

that certainly puts a halt to joshua’s snarky comments for the time being. jeonghan is not the type of person to say something like that easily, which also means that no matter what he says, his best friend is not planning on giving you up anytime soon.

but joshua feels hurt ― so he’s going to test that love jeonghan harbors for you, even if it means stooping lower than he ever thought he would.

it’s silent, briefly. he leans closer to his face, narrowing his eyes. “does she know what you did?”

jeonghan’s blood runs cold at the sentence alone. his entire demeanor changes like the flip of a switch ― his lips are pressed together in sheer anger, and he visibly has to hold back from shoving his best friend against the wall. “the fuck did you just say to me?”

“she deserves to know.”

“oh, so now is the moment you suddenly have morals again? what happened to ‘taking it to the grave’, huh?”

“i don’t care what you do, it’s not my secret to tell. but like you said, she’s your family. if you two care about each other so much, then she should know.”

“shua, i value our friendship, which is why i won’t cuss the shit out of you right now, but this is not your business to meddle with. we keep this between us, just like we promised back then. got it?”

“sure.” the sound of joshua’s humorless chuckle rings through his ears. “you know, i used to wonder when you’d finally break. when the burden of what you did might get too much for your conscience. but eventually i realized that’s never gonna happen, because that conscience i thought you had? it doesn’t fucking exist.”

with those words, his best friend leaves him behind. jeonghan has to take a second to comprehend what just happened ― hell, he’s still not sure he heard it right.

neither joshua nor jeonghan are aware that you’ve been listening in on nearly the whole conversation from the other side of the corner, and you’re left asking yourself if you made a mistake trusting jeonghan with your secret.

because he clearly doesn’t trust you with his.

VI. WHEN PUSH COMES TO SHOVE

jeonghan stares at the screen of his laptop with a hollow chest and overflowing thoughts.

truth be told, he doubts he’s ever felt this vulnerable.

ever since his falling out with joshua two weeks ago, life has been particularly shitty. his best friend still isn’t speaking to him, and you’ve suddenly started to distance yourself from him too, for whatever reason.

he’s pretty sure he’s going insane. it’s not like he said something to offend you, and you don’t even appear to be angry with him at all ― you’re still as lovely as ever, except you keep yourself far away from him.

every time he’s tried to talk to you, you managed to worm your way out of it, leaving him no choice but to speak to you when you’re about to go to bed.

“you’ve been avoiding me.”

as you’re taking your earrings out in front of the mirror, he watches you raise your brows in annoyance. “yeah, i have.”

“have i done something to upset you?” he hesitantly asks with a gentle voice and big eyes, and you almost begin to feel bad because of it.

you consider denying it and brushing it off but decide not to. “i overheard your conversation with joshua.”

he digs his nails into the palm of his hand. fuck.

“right.”

“that’s it? no witty remark?” you shrug, and jeonghan doesn’t miss the sharp edge to your words.

when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out. it’s rare for him to be speechless, but he simply doesn’t know what to say to you.

it makes you even more annoyed than you already are. “you’re not going to tell me about the little secret you share with him, are you?”

he shoots you an apologetic look. “i can’t. i’m sorry.”

“why not?”

“because—” because he’s even worse than you are, “—i just can’t. and it’s not ‘cause i don’t trust you—”

“are you serious?” you frown at his sad attempt of making up an excuse. “look at what i’ve told you about me. i trusted you with something like that, but you don’t trust me.”

“i do.” he firmly interrupts. “i trust you more than anyone.”

“well, forgive me if i don’t believe that. if you’re not gonna tell me whatever it is you’re hiding, there’s the door.”

he waits for a second, the spasm in his fingertips being the only visible sign that he’s itching to tell you what’s been sitting on his conscience for so long ― yet not a single word comes out of his mouth.

with shoulders slumped in defeat, he hesitantly takes a step backwards, leaving you behind as he exits your room.

while walking down the hallway to get to his own room, he takes a deep breath. all he can tell himself is that this will probably blow over soon, and perhaps you’ll even forget about it, with time.

several weeks later, he realizes that those thoughts couldn’t be less true.

in the days that have passed since the argument, you’ve hardly even looked at him. he can’t stand this sudden distance between you ― he wishes you understood why he hasn’t told you the truth, but he’s afraid you’ll only understand that once he actually tells you. in which lies the problem.

he doesn’t do that kind of honesty. not usually, anyways.

now, for the first time in weeks, the crippling sense of loneliness he’s been feeling is replaced by annoyance.

he’s always hated the parties hosted by his father’s social circle ― but if he wants his inheritance, he’ll have to bear it. so he finds himself attending a gala in his tailored tuxedo, his hands sitting in his pockets, a deep frown set into his forehead.

maybe it was uncharacteristically naive of him to think everything could go back to the way things were before that conversation with joshua. the last thing he expected, though, was that he’d be the one left behind.

from a distance, he’s been keeping his eye on you. and from what he’s seen, you and joshua are friendly with each other again, and jeonghan gets the feeling his best friend only holds him accountable for the fact that you’re fucking.

truthfully, you came up to joshua a few days after overhearing their conversation, and you apologized he had to see you and his best friend together in the way that he did. with shua still holding a bit of a soft spot for you, he accepted your apology, and you’ve been enjoying his company ever since.

but he’s not jeonghan.

while anxiously tapping your finger against the champagne glass, you look around the room, since you’ve hardly even seen him tonight.

it’s as if joshua can read your mind. he leans down to speak in a hushed tone. “trouble in paradise?”

him taking notice of it makes you shrug. “no, everything’s fine.”

“sure.” he chuckles knowingly. “i get it. why do you think he’s still my best friend after all these years?”

“what do you mean?”

“i know you overheard our conversation a couple weeks ago. i saw you slip away, and now that i know you’re not on speaking terms with him, well… you put two and two together.”

“i’m guessing you’re not gonna tell me either?”

“i can’t. unfortunately.”

the cryptic response has you rolling your eyes at him. “i don’t understand why you guys are being so secretive about it.”

“because if he told you, you’d see him for who he really is.”

“and who would that be?”

“someone who…” he swallows for a moment. “someone who will make you question your own sanity. he’s willing to do the worst things you could possibly think of and then act like it’s completely normal. he’s the worst person i know.”

the brutal honesty catches you off guard. “so why do you keep going back to him?”

“i’ve asked myself the same question. there’s something about him that… i don’t know―just pulls you in, i guess.”

the short-lived silence makes you look at your glass of alcohol with a certain distaste.

“why are you telling me this, joshua? are you saying i should distance myself from him?”

“that’s the thing. there is no distancing yourself from him.”

“you make him sound like a monster.”

joshua doesn’t meet your eyes. “perhaps he is.”

the bitter statement leaves you baffled for a second — until you decide you’re sick of it. “for fuck’s sake, joshua, you can’t say something like that and not elaborate. i live in the same house as him.”

he’s clearly surprised by your sudden and strong grip on his arm, but all it takes is catching a single glance from jeonghan across the room for him to backtrack.

“i’m sorry.” is all he says to you before leaving you behind, hoping to find some peace and quiet in the empty hallway.

all he finds there is the opposite.

“you seem awfully close with my sister. thought you’d try again now that she’s not talking to me?”

joshua stops dead in his tracks. he turns around, seeing his best friend casually leaning against the wall, the soft light of the lamp above his head reflecting on his face. the red circles under his eyes almost match his hair.

“i’m not trying anything. i know she doesn’t like me like that.”

“i’m aware. but perhaps she’d naturally gravitate more towards liking you if you told her… our secret.” jeonghan manipulatively emphasizes, which his best friend fails to register.

joshua clenches his fist. “that’s something you would do. not me.”

“right. you’re a much better person than me.”

“i didn’t say that.”

“no, but you implied it.”

“just―just tell her the truth. i can’t stand that she knows we’re hiding something.”

“we’re not guilty of anything, shua. i told you that.”

“then why won’t you tell her?”

“because she wasn’t there. she wouldn’t understand.”

but his own worry clouds his judgement and shifts the conversation into a different direction. “i saw bitna tonight. it’s like she fucking knows what we did to her brother―”

jeonghan’s anger comes swift and harsh, causing joshua to flinch. “we agreed to remain silent on this, shua, so you need to keep your end of the deal.”

but jeonghan suddenly notices his best friend is now focused on something behind him, and as his body language changes into something smaller, jeonghan turns his head.

only to see you standing behind him with confused eyes.

fucking hell, he thinks to himself. what is it with everyone and eavesdropping these days?

“joshua, go outside, take a breather. i’ll be back.” he says, taking charge of the situation, barely making eye contact with you when he takes a few steps toward you, grabbing your hand and pulling you with him to an empty room he finds after opening one of the doors, shutting the door behind you. the jealousy is painfully obvious in his face.

“you can’t avoid me forever. and what the fuck are you doing ― being besties with joshua all of a sudden? seriously?”

“oh, so i need your approval on who i befriend now?”

“you know damn well that’s not what i’m saying. it makes zero sense for you to be mad at me but all buddy-buddy with him.”

“because you’re the one i trust! i never put my faith in him the way i put it in you!”

“do you really think i don’t feel the same way? if you actually believe i don’t trust you, you’re not as smart as i thought you to be.”

“fuck you, jeonghan. if you think i’ll ever open up to you again in the way that i did, you’re wrong.”

when you’re about to leave him behind, he stops you, tugging at your arm, and you sigh.

“please don’t leave. please.” he begs, his voice turning small. “i wanna tell you — i’m just scared to lose you when i do. and that’s the one thing i cannot handle.”

you scoff. “oh, c’mon, after what i did, how much worse can it possibly get?”

when he keeps quiet, looking you in the eye with a stern face, yours drops.

“jeonghan, what did you do?”

after opening the door to check if anyone’s there, then closing it again, he rubs his forehead. “me and joshua went on vacation to a winter retreat over our november break with a group of twenty, it was an initiative from a classmate. it ended up being a couple days of a lot of drinking, and then one night, someone pulled out the harddrugs. shua and i didn’t want any, and the guys who brought it clearly thought it was stupid. one of them was bitna’s brother.”

you just listen intently, gesturing for him to continue.

“eventually, he went outside to grab more beer from the storage by himself, which was about a five-minute walk from the house. i slipped out of the room without anyone noticing and went after him. there was a snow storm outside, so the weather was shit. once i got to the storage, i told him to stop harassing shua about taking any drugs, but he reacted badly to it. we got into a fight, i don’t even remember who threw the first punch, but… i pushed him, and when he fell backwards, it’s like i could hear the crack in his skull. he was bleeding from the back of his head, unable to get up. i grabbed my phone to call for help, but all i did was stare at my screen. the guy was bleeding out in front of me and i let him die instead of letting anyone know. and it would’ve been fine — had joshua not come outside.”

“did he watch everything?”

“no, i don’t think he did. i told him exactly what had happened, and he… he came up with the idea of framing it as an unfortunate accident. so that’s what we did. the other guys were so coked out that night that they only found the body the next day, buried under a layer of snow. the cops found the drugs in his system, and he clearly hit his head, so they ruled it an accident like we’d hoped.”

“and you swore to take it to the grave.” you fill in the blanks, and he nods at you. “why didn’t you tell me this when i asked you? what were you so afraid of?”

you see something in him you’ve never seen before — tears. nervousness. panic.

his eyes turn red and his throat tightens up. “when you told me your secret, i was… happy. because the person i care for the most is the only one who’s experienced what i have. but what you had to do was nothing more than an accident, and what i did was on purpose. i could’ve saved that guy, yet i chose not to. i don’t care if that makes me a bad person — i just don’t want you to see me that way. as selfish as that may be.”

he’s on the verge of sobbing, trembling fingers sitting on your waist.

little does he know that you don’t view him as a bad person at all. “you had to make a choice, and you made the right one. who knows what they would’ve done to you if you’d told the truth.”

all he can do is nod, his throat too closed-off to talk.

“you’re my brother. you’ll always have me, jeonghan.” you tell him, remembering the words he said to you after you confessed what was weighing so heavily on your conscience.

and jeonghan cannot help gazing at you ― he realizes that you understand him more than anyone else ever will. he’s free to completely be himself with you as you are with him, and he’s finally processing that.

he cups your face, staring at your lips before pressing his own on them.

the kiss is slow but hungry — full of greed and care and wanting. his hands move from your face to your back, pressing your body closer to his, aching for your bodies to mold together and become one.

his whole body trembles when you break the kiss, and you cup his face as he did yours.

he can’t believe he gave you his bare heart on a silver platter and you chose to stay. you see him for all he is, and in spite of his many flaws, you want him just as much as before.

yoon jeonghan, for the first time in his life, finally knows what it’s like to be loved in the way he so desperately yearned for.

and he wants to show you that he loves you just as much. he leans in to kiss you again, but just when his lips are about to touch yours, the door whips open, and you’re greeted by a phone shoved in front of you.

the vulnerability on your faces is gone the second you recognize the person holding the phone as bitna — who seems horrified.

“what the fuck are you doing?” jeonghan sneers when he realizes she made a picture of your near-kiss.

she stumbles in her step, and it seems like she’s had one too many glasses of champagne. “at first i thought i was imagining things at the party, but i was right. i was trying to finally tell you how much i liked you, even after all these years, and you ditched me for your fucking stepsister!”

that makes you raise your brow. jeonghan just confessed to killing her brother, yet this is what she chooses to talk about — she probably wasn’t eavesdropping, then.

“and how is that any of your business? we’ve barely even spoken to each other since high school.” he responds, his voice to her colder than he’s ever been to you.

“maybe it’s not my business. but the rest of your friends here deserve to know what you’ve been up to, if you ask me.” she says, attempting to make her tone sound just as mean as his, but the tremble in her voice gives her away.

when she grabs her phone and begins to type like she’s on a timer, you both realize what she’s about to do — she’s gonna upload the picture.

if that photo of you and jeonghan gets out, it’ll have serious consequences.

you attempt to snatch the phone out of her hand, but she’s quicker, her sharp nails leaving a scratch on your wrist.

jeonghan sees you hiss from the pain, and he pushes her up against the wall, his hand wrapped around her throat.

“don’t even fucking try it.”

bitna panics and shoves her knee right into his crotch, causing him to grunt from the impact, forced to let go of her neck as he collapses on the floor.

she grabs her phone and runs out of the hallway, and you don’t waste a second, running after her.

with the gala taking place at a mansion by the countryside, you’re far away from civilization, mostly just surrounded by the forest and some badly lit roads.

you go after her even when she runs outside through the backdoor, right between the tall trees. it’s when she trips over her heels that you’re finally able to catch up with her, and you flip her around to choke her unconscious, but she uses her nails to scratch across your face this time.

“fuck!” you yell, and she uses the moment to escape once more.

with a few drops of blood on your face, you get up to go after her again, fueled by the adrenaline and blazing hatred in your system.

she keeps running, looking back to you from over her shoulder, and it’s right at that moment that she runs onto the road, forgetting to check whether there’s any traffic in her haste — and she gets pushed over by an incoming car.

shock hits you briefly, and you contemplate hiding between the trees to leave the scene of the crime until you recognize the car as well as its driver.

jeonghan gets out, and you run over to him, finding him standing by bitna’s body, which is now several meters away from the car due to the crash.

“fucking hell — what just happened? i wasn’t even trying to hit her, she just ran in front of the car out of fucking nowhere—did she do that to your face?”

with your breathing slowing bit by bit, you nod, and you both look down at the body, only to realize she’s still breathing, but her injuries are so bad that she can’t get up, and she’s coughing up blood. hell, it looks like she can hardly even move at all.

the sound of her pained grunts hardly affect you when you take her phone out of her pocket to delete the picture before putting it back again.

“sweetheart.” jeonghan says to you, and you look at each other for a moment. “she knows too much.”

you sigh, turning around to check if there’s any cars coming, but the road is remote and empty, and it’s late at night.

“who’s gonna do it?”

he wordlessly sinks down to one knee, staring down at bitna even when his hand squeezes her throat and the life leaves her eyes. he only closes his eyes when some splatters of the blood she was coughing up hits his cheek, which he wipes away with his other hand.

when he checks her pulse to see if she’s still alive, you see a single car nearing the scene, the driver of which you then recognize as the last person that should see this.

joshua hits the brakes and hurries out of the car. “i saw you drive off like crazy, what the hell happened—”

his words are caught in his throat when he sees the body.

“shua. she’s gone.” your voice is strained as the sobs remain choked-up in your throat, your shaky hands tugging at his arm.

tears well up in his eyes. “what the—how did this happen?”

jeonghan forces himself to sound remotely shaken up. “i just drove here and she ran in front of the car. it was an accident, i swear.”

but a part of joshua doesn’t buy it. “out of nowhere? what the fuck is this, jeonghan? are you lying to me?”

“no. i swear to you—”

but he doesn’t let him finish. “this is insane. we have to do something, tell the cops what happened here, and with her brother—”

joshua’s breathing quickens with his sobs. “i can’t deal with this the way you can. i can’t do it.”

“you can’t keep making me go through this. how many more deaths do i need to have on my conscience before it’s enough?”

jeonghan shakes his head calmly, embracing him, his one hand on the back of joshua’s neck. “it’s not your fault, shua. it’ll be okay, promise.”

joshua glances at you, seeing your distraught face, and the portion of trust he lost in his best friend, he chooses to find in you.

and so he believes it. he tells himself it was an accident, and does what he’s told.

the moment joshua walks back to get into his car, jeonghan peers at you, the flickering red light reflecting on your tear-streaked face. the emotions you were displaying mere seconds ago are entirely gone, replaced by something numb and indifferent in the blink of an eye.

it’s like looking into a mirror.

as joshua’s in the driver’s seat, jeonghan tells him what to do one last time before the younger of the two drives off, leaving only you and your brother behind.

what happens next is like a blur. jeonghan tells you something about a nearby lake, which is where he takes the body to get rid of it. once he returns, he’s empty-handed, save for the fresh blood on his conscience.

you’re in the driver’s seat, watching him get in beside you, his clothes stained with red spots.

he sits still for a moment, but as soon as you turn your head, he holds your chin and kisses you.

it’s far less gentle than before, more lust than anything, but it’s something you both need right now.

with your forehead leaning against his, you breathe into each other’s mouths. “we gotta go home, hannie. before our parents get back.” you whisper.

all he can do is hum in agreement, kissing you one more time before you start the car.

once you’re home, you park the car out of sight, as it needs to be cleaned and repaired.

you eventually manage to get into jeonghan’s room unseen. he yanks his stained shirt over his head, throwing it into the fireplace to get rid of every piece of evidence he can think of. you immediately go on to wash your hands by the sink.

it’s interesting for you to watch how he behaves at a moment like this — it’s hard to tell whether his thoughts are racing or completely frozen. he moves to the bathroom to scrub the blood off his hands and nails, going at it for several minutes until there’s not a speck of red left.

then he comes walking back, heading straight for the whiskey bottle on top of the coffee table to down two glasses in one go.

“you put up a show for joshua.” he states.

“what do you mean?”

“the crying. it stopped the second you knew he wasn’t paying attention to it anymore.”

kudos to him for being so perceptive. you didn’t think he noticed.

“so?”

he takes a few steps over to you. “i saw it. that moment your expression completely changed… i used to think we were different, in a way. but we’re really not.”

it only makes you shrug your shoulders. “and now? am i no longer a good person to you, little brother?”

jeonghan mimics the teasing in your tone. “i think being a good person is overrated.”

his tone and gaze and grip on your hips is harsher than usual, and as soon as he’s got you pressed against the wall, you realize he’s rock-hard.

“you looked so fucking good doing that. the way you talked to joshua, saying the exact things you needed to say to get him to believe you, the blood on your face—” he mutters, completely lost in his desires now that you’ve made them a reality, “you were perfect. my sweet sister.”

your nails harshly dig into his skin, hot arousal dripping between your legs. you pull your dress of and discard it onto the floor, taking a few steps back to his desk, pulling him with you with your finger at the waistband of his boxers.

“need you in me. please, i’m so fucking wet—”

after laying you back on his desk, he rubs his cock against your entrance, finding you soaking for him, and he has to force himself to keep his composure and not completely fall apart already.

a shameless moan escapes him when he pushes himself inside you, and his pace quickly increases, his mouth moving to your sensitive nipples. you wrap your legs around his waist at the sensation, and his warm saliva coats your breasts while he keeps fucking into you.

you don’t think the coil in your stomach has ever built up this fast. all you want is for him to keep fucking you throughout the night, and by the looks of it, he’s far from done with you.

he leaves hickeys all over your upper body, feeling more possessive of you than ever before, and you suck his cock so tightly into your cunt that he wants to stay like this forever.

“let me cum inside you, baby, please. wanna see it drip out of you — oh my god, please, let me have it—”

the sound of his begging turns you even wetter. “yes, yes, cum in me, hannie.”

it’s a mere matter of seconds before you feel him shudder, emptying himself inside you, and he looks down to see drops of his white cum seeping out of your dripping pussy. he watches you rub at your clit before you dip your finger inside, pushing his cum back into you, and his breath visibly hitches in his throat.

his cock has never been hard faster, and he rubs himself at the sight of your pussy, moaning when you begin to finger yourself in front of him, the wet noise ringing through his ears.

“let me fuck you again. wanna fuck you again so bad, baby, look at how wet you are, jesus christ—”

“want it harder this time, hannie.” you nod, pulling him closer to you again, and he’s utterly hypnotized, as if you’re some holy being speaking to someone beneath you.

and as always, he’ll gladly oblige you, so he sheathes himself inside, giving you exactly what you want.

you both lose complete track of time in his room, lost in your own world, waking up the next day to the news that the girl whose body you dumped into the lake is considered missing by the authorities.

it’s two days later when they discover her body, and as you’d hoped, the police appear to believe her death was an unfortunate accident rather than cold-blooded murder.

bitna’s funeral is grim.

it’s more crowded than you anticipated, but the majority of people attending are either family, current classmates or former classmates, you and jeonghan falling into the latter categories. you blend in well with the other attendees.

with your black coats and leather gloves on, you stare at the casket being lowered into the ground.

once the people leaving are out of earshot, the two of you glance at the tombstone. “what a shame. she was young.”

jeonghan nods slowly. “and she made a mistake by trying to meddle with business that wasn’t hers.”

“do you have any regrets? about the things that happened?”

“no. do you?”

“i should, probably. but i don’t.” you shrug, crossing your arms over your chest. “i have a feeling joshua is gonna lose his shit, though. he’s fragile.”

“you’d be surprised, actually.” he leans toward you, making sure that no one can hear him. “when bitna’s brother died, it was his idea to frame it as suicide.”

“seriously? i thought it was yours.”

“to be fair, i’d come up with the idea already, but i wanted him to be the one to say it. all he needed was me mentioning what the consequences would be — were we to confess what happened. the image of spending a solid part of your life in prison does wonders for some.”

deadpanning a stare, you snort. “you manipulated him into coming up with the suicide so he couldn’t blame you later on.”

a smirk tugs at his lips, yet he tilts his head. “don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.”

“fine, you got me there.”

you both chuckle quietly, after which it’s briefly quiet. shifting your gaze down to the ground, you huff to yourself.

“well, i guess this is who we are when no one can stop us.” you sigh. “somehow always at the scene of the crime.”

“this is who we are when we take care of each other.” he loops his arm around your waist, pulling you to his side, rubbing at your clothed skin as he holds you. “you’re my sister. i’ll do anything for you — i want you to know that.”

“i do.” you nod, laying your head down on his shoulder. “i also know you don’t want me to protect you, but… i will. always.”

with a kiss pressed to your temple, he gives you his response to the sentiment.

sure, you and jeonghan may not share the same blood, but you are bound by the secrets you’ve shared and the blood you’ve spilled, and all you can feel for the future is… excitement.

thank u for reading. please let me know if u enjoyed it x

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

#yoon jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x reader #svt x reader #svthub #seventeen x reader #jeonghan angst #jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan fanfic #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic

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its-avalon-08 · 2 months ago

Note

Could you write something where reader and Lando have been in a relationship and reader has a heart condition and she never told Lando so he didn’t stress about her and to focus on racing, and Lando and her brake up because he stupidly told her he wants to focus on racing this year and after she left he realised his mistake as all the little things reader did for him before a race are all gone and everything just feels wrong and when he tries to contact her he can’t find her until a few weeks later he gets a call from the hospital that reader has fallen unconscious and when he gets there he then learns about her heart condition and that stress is not good for her heart. But happy ending.

heart flutters (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, comfort, heart condition

The morning sun slipped through the curtains, casting a soft glow over Lando’s bedroom. Y/N was lying beside him, her hand resting on his chest, her breathing soft and steady. Lando felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth as he looked down at her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

He couldn’t quite remember when his mornings had become this perfect, but he knew Y/N had something to do with it.

She shifted, blinking awake, and her sleepy smile met his gaze. “Good morning, love,” she murmured, voice still thick with sleep.

"Morning," he replied, kissing her forehead. "Did you sleep okay?"

“Always do when I’m with you,” she replied, snuggling closer. “Although I could do without you hogging the blanket,” she teased, giving him a playful poke.

Lando laughed, pulling her closer. “Alright, alright, I’ll work on it.”

These mornings together, the lazy Sundays and cozy, laughter-filled moments, were Y/N’s specialty. She seemed to know exactly what he needed, especially on race days. She’d wake up early with him, helping him calm his nerves and making sure he had everything he needed. And every time, he’d find some new way she was taking care of him, even if it was something small—like hiding a little note in his helmet, wishing him luck.

“Hey,” Y/N said, watching his thoughtful expression. “You okay?”

Lando nodded. “Just thinking about how lucky I am,” he admitted, his voice soft.

Y/N blushed, rolling her eyes a little. “You’re getting sappy on me, Norris.”

“Just telling it like it is,” he replied, smiling as he watched her try to hide her smile.

They went about their morning, with Y/N humming along to the soft music playing in the kitchen as she made breakfast. She slid a plate across to Lando, along with a steaming cup of his favorite coffee. He took a sip, sighing in contentment. She’d even managed to get his coffee just right.

"Alright, mister," she said with a smirk, sitting down beside him. "What's the game plan today?"

"Game plan?” he teased, raising an eyebrow. “Thought you were the expert at making my plans.”

“Maybe,” she replied, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “But I like to think I’m just the support. You’re the superstar here.”

Lando rolled his eyes, chuckling. “You’re more than support, Y/N. You’re… you’re my everything, you know that?”

Y/N smiled, but there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, something he didn’t notice, too wrapped up in the moment. She covered it up with a quick laugh, brushing it off. “And you’re mine. Just… try not to get too cocky on track, alright?”

He laughed, squeezing her hand. “Can’t make any promises.”

Their relationship was filled with moments like these—easy, natural, just them being themselves. Y/N grounded him, kept him steady, especially when the world of racing felt overwhelming. She never burdened him with anything else, always making sure his focus was on the track. And she always brushed off his attempts to give back, saying his happiness was all she needed.

But it was Lando who felt like he needed her more than he’d ever admit.

As they finished breakfast, she reached out, taking his hand. "You'll do amazing, Lando," she said quietly. "You always do."

"I only do so well because of you, you know that?" he replied, squeezing her hand.

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes again, but there was warmth there, too. “Alright, alright, enough with the sweet talk. Go focus on your race and be the best you can be out there. That’s all I ask.”

Lando leaned in, kissing her softly. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Norris,” she replied, grinning as she kissed him back.

As he left for the track, he felt a familiar sense of calm wash over him. Y/N had this way of making everything feel right, grounding him no matter what lay ahead. He knew, deep down, that he’d never be able to thank her enough for everything she did for him.

And for Y/N, watching him walk out the door with that smile, she knew that was exactly how she wanted it to be.

It was late, and the rain was tapping against the window of Lando’s apartment as he paced back and forth, hands tangled in his hair. The 2024 season had been brutal, every race pushing him to his limit, the pressure of a potential world championship win weighing on him like a mountain. He could practically taste the victory, but the stress of it all had made him someone he barely recognized.

Y/N was sitting on the couch, arms crossed as she watched him pace. She’d noticed it for weeks now, the way he was shutting her out, snapping at her for even the smallest things, as if she were just another distraction.

Finally, she broke the silence, her voice sharp. “Lando, can you stop pacing for two seconds and talk to me?”

He stopped, sighing heavily as he turned to face her. “What do you want me to say, Y/N?” he muttered. “That I’m exhausted? That I can’t focus with all of this going on?”

“All of this?” she echoed, hurt flashing across her face. “What’s ‘all of this,’ exactly? Because I thought we were a team, Lando. I thought I was helping you!”

“Helping me?” he scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Y/N, I have to focus. Every race, every lap, every second counts right now. I can’t… I don’t have time to be dealing with you—”

“Dealing with me?” Her voice was sharp, a bitter laugh escaping her. “Lando, I’ve done nothing but support you. Every single time you’re struggling, I’m here. And now you’re telling me I’m… I’m a distraction?”

He clenched his fists, too frustrated to back down. “That’s exactly what I’m saying! Every time I’m around you, I feel like I’m being pulled in a million directions. I need to focus on racing, Y/N. I need this championship.”

“And what about us, Lando?” she demanded, standing up, her own anger now matching his. “Do I mean anything to you anymore, or am I just some inconvenience? Because that’s exactly how you’re making me feel.”

He looked away, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “Maybe it’s just not working anymore.”

Her eyes widened, the pain in them unmistakable. She took a shaky breath, her voice barely a whisper. “So that’s it? Just like that? You’re giving up on us?”

“Maybe I am,” he snapped, though even as he said it, something twisted painfully in his chest. “Maybe I need to focus on my career. I can’t have anyone holding me back right now.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “Holding you back? I’m holding you back, Lando? After everything I’ve done? The sacrifices I’ve made, the nights I stayed up worrying for you, the races I watched, praying you’d come home safe… that’s ‘holding you back’?”

“You just don’t understand,” he muttered, his voice softer now but still laced with frustration. “You don’t get the pressure I’m under, Y/N. I have a chance to win this championship, and I can’t be thinking about anything else.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” she replied, her tone cold. “You’ve let this championship turn you into someone I barely recognize. The Lando I knew would have never pushed me away like this.”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” he said, the words hitting her like a slap.

She swallowed hard, the hurt on her face plain to see. But she wasn’t about to let him get away with this. “You’re right,” she replied, her voice trembling with anger. “Maybe I don’t know you anymore. Because the man I fell in love with would have never treated me like this. He wouldn’t have thrown away everything we have because he’s too blinded by his own ambition.”

“Fine,” he spat, his anger still raging. “Maybe you should just leave, then.”

Silence fell between them, the weight of his words settling like a stone in the room. Y/N stared at him, her eyes filling with tears, but she refused to let them fall.

“Don’t worry, Lando,” she said, her voice breaking slightly as she grabbed her coat from the back of the chair. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your precious championship.”

She turned toward the door, but stopped just before leaving, looking back at him one last time. “I hope it’s worth it, Lando. I really do.”

And with that, she was gone, the sound of the door slamming shut echoing in the silence of the apartment.

Lando stood there, the anger that had been burning inside him now replaced by a hollow ache. He’d gotten what he’d wanted—he was free to focus on his racing. But as he looked around the empty room, he realized just how empty his life felt without her.

Lando sat alone in his dimly lit apartment, the silence pressing in on him like a weight he couldn’t shake off. It had been two weeks since Y/N had walked out. At first, he told himself he’d done the right thing, that he needed to focus on racing, that he couldn’t afford any distractions. But now, all he could feel was the aching void she’d left behind.

Race weekend had come, and the pre-race routines—the moments that had once been so seamless, so comforting—now felt cold and empty. His helmet was sitting on the counter, untouched. There were no little notes tucked into his bag, no reminders to stay safe, no lucky charm slipped into his hand just before he left for the track. Y/N had always known what to do, how to make him feel like he could conquer the world. Now, everything just felt wrong.

He leaned against the counter, clutching the edge, his heart pounding as he stared down at his helmet. The knot in his chest tightened with each passing second, a harsh reminder of how badly he’d messed up.

“Lando?” Max entered the room, noticing his tense expression. “You alright, mate? You don’t look yourself.”

Lando managed a hollow smile, waving him off. “I’m fine.”

But Max wasn’t convinced. He took a seat across from him, eyeing him carefully. “You’ve been off these past few weeks. Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

“Yeah, just… racing stress, you know?” Lando muttered, though he knew it was a lie. It wasn’t racing stress—it was Y/N. She’d been his anchor, the one person who made him feel like he was more than just a driver. Without her, he felt like he was falling apart.

Max raised an eyebrow, skeptical but respectful enough not to push further. “Alright, well… if you need anything, let me know. You know I’m here for you.”

“Thanks,” Lando replied, trying to keep his voice steady. But as Max left, the emptiness clawed at him even more fiercely. He glanced back down at his helmet, the silence in the room growing louder, deafening.

He couldn’t hold it in any longer. He slumped down onto the floor, burying his face in his hands as memories flooded him. He remembered the way Y/N would look at him with those warm eyes, her voice filled with gentle reassurance.

The more Lando went through his days, the more he noticed just how much Y/N had been woven into every corner of his life. Each time he stumbled over a small moment they used to share, it was like a painful reminder of how deeply he had messed up.

Race Day Routine

When he sat down for breakfast the morning of his next race, he instinctively reached for the small bag she’d usually leave out for him—one filled with his favorite snacks, electrolyte packets, and a note in her neat handwriting that usually said, “For that extra boost, love. You’ve got this.” Every race day morning, she’d make sure his essentials were perfectly packed, knowing how easily he’d forget them in the rush.

But the counter was empty, and so were his hands. There was no note, no bag, no encouraging message. He’d scoffed at how overprotective she’d been, thinking he could handle it himself. Now, as he fumbled to prepare for his race on his own, the empty counter felt like a gaping hole in his chest.

Before the Race

In the paddock, he felt it again, the silence louder than ever. Y/N would always make sure to slip away with him for just a moment before he stepped into the garage, giving him a quiet pep talk when he needed it most. Her words, so full of calm and warmth, used to steady him, keeping the pressure from crushing him. She’d take his face in her hands, look him straight in the eyes, and remind him, “It’s just you and the track. Nothing else matters. Drive like only you can.”

He’d rolled his eyes at her sometimes, told her he didn’t need the cheesy encouragement—but she’d insisted anyway, saying, “Well, too bad, because you’re getting it.” Her words were like armor, a shield she’d wrapped around him before every race.

Now, standing alone by his car, he could feel the pressure creeping in, gnawing at him, and there was nothing to keep it at bay. He glanced around, almost expecting to see her in the crowd, but of course, she wasn’t there.

Late Nights in the Simulator

Back at the team facility, he spent more time than ever practicing, pushing himself harder, trying to keep his mind from drifting back to her. But even here, she’d left her mark. On the long nights, Y/N used to bring him coffee, perfectly made just the way he liked it, and sit beside him, giving him quiet company. She wouldn’t say much, just enough to keep his spirits up, occasionally throwing him an encouraging smile as he took lap after lap in the simulator.

And when he’d get frustrated, when he’d curse and slam his fists on the table, she’d place a calming hand on his shoulder, reminding him, “You’re Lando Norris, you can do this. Don’t let the tough laps get to you. Breathe.”

Now, he sat there, tense and alone, his coffee lukewarm and forgotten. No hand to steady him, no quiet reassurance. The simulator felt cold, and so did he.

At Home, Late at Night

Even the nights felt wrong. Y/N had always insisted on turning on the small night light for him, a tiny habit she’d developed when she realized that he hated stumbling around in the dark after a race, too exhausted to find his way. He’d teased her about it, saying he didn’t need it, but she’d laugh, saying, “Well, one of us does.” She’d make sure it was on for him every night she stayed over, like clockwork.

Tonight, he sat in the pitch-black room, the silence pressing in, the absence of the warm glow almost suffocating. He clenched his fists, swallowing against the ache that was rising in his throat. He missed her laugh, her teasing, the tiny acts of love she’d filled his life with.

Flashback

“You’re going to be amazing today, Lando,” she’d whisper, holding his hand just before he stepped onto the track. “Just remember, it’s not about winning or losing to me. I love you just the same, no matter what.”

And he’d feel his nerves melt away. She had a way of making him feel like he could face anything.

Now, without her, the fear crept back in, gnawing at him from the inside.

He pressed his palms into his eyes, a shaky breath escaping him. “God… what have I done?”

Every little thing she used to do, every act of kindness, every word of encouragement—he’d taken it all for granted. He thought he could focus better without her, that his life would be easier. But instead, all he felt was the emptiness of her absence, like a cold shadow in every corner.

His phone buzzed on the counter, and his heart jumped, a surge of desperate hope flooding him as he reached for it. But it was just a message from his manager.

Frustration tore through him, and he tossed his phone down, clenching his fists. He could still hear her voice in his head, her words from their last fight haunting him.

Flashback to Their Argument

“Don’t worry, Lando,” she’d said bitterly, her voice cracking. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your precious championship.”

He remembered her eyes, red and tear-filled, as she looked at him one last time, filled with a pain he’d caused. He remembered thinking he was doing the right thing, choosing his career, telling himself he couldn’t afford to be vulnerable.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he muttered to himself, feeling a tear slip down his cheek.

Everything felt different without her. The things he used to love—the rush of the track, the thrill of competition—they all felt meaningless now. He was pushing himself harder than ever, but it wasn’t out of passion. It was to numb the ache she’d left behind, to keep himself from falling apart.

But no matter how fast he drove, how hard he pushed, he couldn’t outrun the realization.

Race Day Morning

He stood in front of the mirror, suit half-zipped, his hands gripping the sink as he stared at his own reflection. His face looked drawn, the shadows under his eyes deep. The loneliness, the guilt, the regret—it was all written there, plain as day.

“You look terrible,” he muttered to himself, voice hollow.

He remembered the way she’d stand beside him, fixing his collar, laughing as she reminded him to keep his head cool. And now, all he had was his own reflection staring back at him, mocking him with his own emptiness.

Finally, the weight became too much, and he grabbed his phone, his fingers shaking as he typed her number. He didn’t know what he was going to say, didn’t know if she’d even answer. But he couldn’t keep going like this. He needed to apologize, to tell her how wrong he’d been, how much he missed her.

The phone rang, each ring feeling like an eternity. Just as he was about to give up, her voicemail clicked on.

“Hey, it’s Y/N… leave a message.”

He swallowed hard, the sound of her voice hitting him like a punch to the gut. Taking a shaky breath, he spoke, his voice breaking.

“Y/N… it’s me. I… I don’t know if you’ll ever listen to this, but I just… I’m so sorry.” His voice trembled, each word spilling out like a confession. “I was wrong, okay? I thought I needed to focus, but without you… everything’s falling apart. I miss you. I miss… us. Please… please just… call me back.”

He hung up, feeling the weight of his own words settle over him. But there was nothing else he could do now, except hope—hope that somehow, she might still care, might still give him a chance to fix the mess he’d made.

Lando had tried everything. He’d called, texted, even reached out to her friends, hoping someone could tell him where she was. But no one had any information; she’d slipped away completely. Days turned into weeks, and with each one, the realization sank deeper: she might never come back.

One night, Lando sat alone in his apartment, drained and unfocused, his phone resting on the coffee table. His mind was restless, jumping between regret and desperation, reliving their last fight, the look in her eyes as she’d walked out.

Then, the phone rang, startling him out of his thoughts. He grabbed it without thinking, not even checking the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Is this Lando Norris?” a calm, professional voice asked.

“Uh… yeah, this is him,” Lando replied, his heart pounding.

“This is Dr. Kapoor from St. Thomas Hospital. You’re listed as an emergency contact for Y/N Y/L/N.”

Lando’s stomach dropped, his throat suddenly dry. “Yes, yes, that’s me… is she alright? What happened?”

“She was brought in unconscious a few hours ago,” the doctor explained. “We’ve stabilized her, but we’d like you to come in as soon as possible.”

Lando didn’t need to hear anything else. He muttered a frantic “I’m on my way” before grabbing his keys and running out the door.

The drive to the hospital felt endless, each passing second stretching painfully as he sped down the empty streets. His mind raced with possibilities, the worst scenarios creeping in, twisting his insides. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly they were white.

By the time he burst through the hospital doors, he was gasping for breath, his heart pounding as he frantically searched for her room. A nurse pointed him down the hall, and he bolted, not caring how he looked, just needing to see her, to know she was alright.

He found her room and stopped, momentarily frozen by the sight before him. Y/N lay in the hospital bed, pale and fragile, wires and monitors surrounding her. The steady beep of her heart monitor filled the room, grounding him slightly, but the sight of her like this tore at him. Slowly, he stepped forward, his throat tight, struggling to keep his emotions in check.

Just as he was about to speak, the doctor entered.

“Mr. Norris?” Dr. Kapoor’s voice was gentle, sensing his distress.

Lando nodded, barely able to manage a word. “What… what happened to her?”

Dr. Kapoor took a deep breath, her expression softening. “Y/N has a heart condition called hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. It’s a condition that can be exacerbated by stress, which could lead to fainting or, in severe cases, even heart failure.”

Lando’s face fell, his voice barely a whisper. “She… she never told me.”

“She might not have wanted to worry you,” the doctor said. “It’s common for patients with this condition to keep it private, especially if they think it might place a burden on others.”

Lando’s heart twisted, a wave of guilt washing over him as he realized why she’d never mentioned it. She hadn’t wanted him to stress, to worry, especially during the season when he’d been under so much pressure. She’d always put him first, even to the point of hiding something so serious.

He took a shaky breath, blinking back tears. “Can I… can I see her?”

The doctor nodded. “She’s stable now, and she’ll likely wake up soon. But remember, keeping her calm is crucial. She’ll need rest and minimal stress to recover.”

Lando swallowed, nodding quickly, but he couldn’t keep the emotion out of his voice. “I’ll… I’ll take care of her. I swear.”

Dr. Kapoor offered him a small, understanding smile before leaving the room, giving him a moment alone with Y/N.

Lando stepped closer, reaching out to gently take her hand. His thumb traced over her knuckles, and he noticed how cold her hand felt in his.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I’m so sorry. I should have been there. I should have known.”

He sat beside her, the weight of everything hitting him all at once. “I was so… so stupid. I thought I needed to focus on racing, but… God, I was wrong. I was so wrong. You’re… you’re everything, Y/N. None of this means anything without you.”

He stayed like that, holding her hand, his head bowed as he let himself cry for the first time in weeks. All the pride, all the anger—it had melted away, leaving only the raw, aching regret of having pushed away the one person who truly loved him.

After a few minutes, he felt her fingers twitch slightly in his hand. His head shot up, hope flooding his chest as he saw her eyes slowly blink open.

“Y/N?” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

She blinked up at him, confusion flickering across her face before her gaze settled on him, and he saw a flash of pain in her eyes. “Lando…?”

He took a deep breath, his grip on her hand tightening. “I’m here. I’m right here, love.”

She tried to sit up, wincing as the monitor beeped slightly faster. Lando was quick to place a hand on her shoulder, his touch gentle but firm. “Hey, don’t… don’t push yourself. Just… just rest.”

She looked away, her voice barely a whisper. “Why are you here, Lando? I thought… you wanted to focus on racing.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, but he forced himself to face her, to let her see the remorse in his eyes. “I was wrong, Y/N. I was so, so wrong. I thought I needed to do it alone, that I couldn’t let myself get… attached. But all I did was ruin the best thing in my life.”

Her expression softened, and he saw her blinking back tears. “You really hurt me, Lando. I didn’t ask you for much. I just wanted to be there for you, and you… you made me feel like I was a burden.”

“I know,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “And I hate myself for it. You did everything for me, and I didn’t see it until you were gone. I love you, Y/N… I can’t lose you. Not like this.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and he reached up, brushing it away with a tenderness that spoke of all the things he wished he’d done sooner. “I’m here now,” he continued. “And if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

She looked at him for a long moment, searching his face, and finally nodded, her hand squeezing his. “You hurt me, Lando. But… I still love you, too.”

Relief flooded his face, and he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I’ll be better. I promise.”

For the first time in weeks, Lando felt a spark of hope, knowing he had a chance to rebuild what he’d nearly thrown away. And as he sat beside her, holding her close, he vowed never to let her feel alone again.

Lando had been the perfect caretaker ever since Y/N was discharged from the hospital. He took her straight back to their apartment, rearranging everything in his life to ensure she was comfortable and safe. Every morning, he’d bring her breakfast in bed with a ridiculous grin, complete with heart-shaped toast and fresh orange juice. He filled her day with little surprises—flowers by her bedside, a new stack of her favorite books, and even a fuzzy blanket he’d bought just for her.

One night, Y/N woke up in the middle of the night, instinctively reaching for him, only to find his side of the bed empty. Confused, she sat up, rubbing her eyes. She hadn’t heard him get up, and her heart skipped slightly as worry bubbled up, wondering if something was wrong.

Quietly, she slipped out of bed, her bare feet padding softly as she went to look for him. She found him in the living room, seated on the couch with his laptop open and a small notebook by his side. His hair was tousled, and he had a focused, almost determined expression on his face as he typed something into the search bar.

“Understanding Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy” appeared on the screen, along with several videos, articles, and patient forums. Lando had a pen in his hand, and as he clicked on a video, she watched as he jotted down notes on a page, his handwriting a messy scrawl but full of sincerity. The video’s audio was soft, and she could hear the narrator explaining symptoms, risk factors, and the importance of a low-stress environment.

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears as she watched him, realizing just how much he was trying to understand, to do anything he could to protect her.

“Alright,” he muttered to himself, tapping the pen on the notebook. “Avoid stress… maybe I can start doing a weekly meditation with her or, like… yoga? Yeah, that might help. And… maybe I should keep her work stuff organized so she doesn’t feel overwhelmed.”

Y/N couldn’t hold back any longer. She quietly stepped forward, and Lando jumped slightly when he felt her curl up on his lap, but he immediately wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice tender as he brushed a hand over her hair. “What are you doing awake?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she murmured, tilting her head to meet his gaze. Her eyes were soft, full of gratitude and love, and Lando’s heart swelled.

He gave her a sheepish smile, glancing at the open notebook. “I… I wanted to make sure I was doing everything right. I know I’ve messed up before, and I want to be the best I can be for you now. So, I figured… I’d do my homework.”

Y/N let out a quiet laugh, blinking back tears. “You’re really… reading up on my condition?”

“Of course I am,” he said, his voice warm but serious. “I need to know how to keep you safe. How to make sure you’re not stressed out or worried, and…” He swallowed, his voice breaking just a bit. “I just want to make everything perfect for you, love.”

She buried her face in his neck, her heart aching in the best way possible. “Lando… you’re already doing more than enough. Just… being here with me, caring for me… it’s more than I could ever ask for.”

“But it doesn’t feel like enough,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “I’m never going to let you feel alone or unimportant again. You’re my world, Y/N. I want to make sure you’re as healthy and happy as you can be.”

She pulled back, looking at him with watery eyes, a small smile on her face. “Lando, I don’t need perfection. I just need you.”

His expression softened as he cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Well, you’re stuck with me,” he said, grinning. “Because I’m not going anywhere. And I’m gonna keep studying this and doing everything I can to make sure you feel safe and loved.”

She laughed through her tears, leaning into his hand. “You already make me feel so loved. I don’t think you even realize it, but you do.”

Lando’s smile turned gentle, and he bent down to press a tender kiss to her forehead. “Good. Because I’m crazy about you, Y/N. I just want to be the person you deserve.”

She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his kiss settle over her, and wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. “You’re already that person, Lando. You always have been.”

He chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around her as he held her close. “Good. Because I’m not stopping until I see that smile on your face every single day.”

As Y/N nestled closer into his lap, her attention shifted to the laptop screen, where a doctor was speaking in a calm, measured tone.

“Managing stress is crucial for patients with hypertrophic cardiomyopathy,” the voice on the video explained. “Avoid situations that may induce high emotional stress. For instance, hostile conversations, arguments, or other confrontational exchanges can increase strain on the heart.”

Lando stilled, his gaze fixed on the screen as those words sank in. She could feel him tense beneath her, a flicker of regret passing over his face.

“That… makes sense,” he whispered, almost to himself. “I’ve been so selfish. I didn’t realize that my own stress… my own words… could actually make things worse for you.”

Y/N put her hand on his cheek, urging him to look at her. “Lando, it’s okay—”

“No,” he interrupted gently, meeting her gaze with a deep, remorseful look. “It’s not okay. I didn’t just make things stressful; I let you feel like you couldn’t even tell me what was going on with you. I was so wrapped up in myself… I can’t believe I was so blind.”

Y/N’s eyes softened as she watched him, the depth of his regret written all over his face. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “We’re here now. That’s what matters. You’re here, and I know how much you care.”

He exhaled slowly, wrapping his arms around her a little tighter. “I’ll never let stress come between us again, love. I promise.”

They sat together like that, wrapped up in each other, as the rest of the world faded away. Lando continued to stroke her hair, murmuring sweet promises of the future he envisioned for them. And for the first time in weeks, Y/N felt a calm settle over her, knowing that Lando was there, exactly where he wanted to be, and that he wasn’t going anywhere.

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