#it was probably one of the most peaceful moments in my life

[diamondsunbursts-and-marblehalls]

This may be controversial but the one thing I didn’t like about sunrise on the reaping was the epilogue. Don’t get me wrong “the walls of a persons heart are not impregnable, not if they have ever known love” is probably my favorite line from the whole book, I just hate the idea that haymitch can only ever live in the past, he can never move forward and find peace or happiness in the present. He let himself open up his heart again but he’s still only content waiting for death, instead of in turmoil waiting for death.

I don’t believe that peace in the present had to end with Lenore Dove’s life at 16 and I don’t think that’s the ending he deserved. I adore the idea of love that transcends time but I’m having such a hard time with the idea that the love he found at 16 was the most precious thing he’s ever known and something he’s unable to move past even years later. He even says the only reason he’s still alive is to take care of his family. I don’t care, I think he deserves to heal enough be able to move on and to be alive purely because he wants to live, not because he has people he needs to take care of still.

Loss and love and grief healing all go hand in hand, they are forever entangled with each other with no way to ever untangle them. I don’t think there’s any way to ever fully fill the void someone leaves when you lose them but I do think that healing comes with accepting that and being okay with feeling the joy that life can bring as well. Nothing complicates life’s good moments the way grief does, but I like to think that Haymitch got to heal enough to want to live and let joy in along with the pain.

[yourtipsygrandma]

I saw the Northern Lights and I’m having an extreme emotional reaction excuse me

[marvelsmostwanted]

There are people – some in my own Party – who think that if you just give Donald Trump everything he wants, he’ll make an exception and spare you some of the harm. I’ll ignore the moral abdication of that position for just a second to say — almost none of those people have the experience with this President that I do. I once swallowed my pride to offer him what he values most — public praise on the Sunday news shows — in return for ventilators and N95 masks during the worst of the pandemic. We made a deal. And it turns out his promises were as broken as the BIPAP machines he sent us instead of ventilators. Going along to get along does not work – just ask the Trump-fearing red state Governors who are dealing with the same cuts that we are. I won’t be fooled twice.

I’ve been reflecting, these past four weeks, on two important parts of my life: my work helping to build the Illinois Holocaust Museum and the two times I’ve had the privilege of reciting the oath of office for Illinois Governor.

As some of you know, Skokie, Illinois once had one of the largest populations of Holocaust survivors anywhere in the world. In 1978, Nazis decided they wanted to march there.

The leaders of that march knew that the images of Swastika clad young men goose stepping down a peaceful suburban street would terrorize the local Jewish population – so many of whom had never recovered from their time in German concentration camps.

The prospect of that march sparked a legal fight that went all the way to the Supreme Court. It was a Jewish lawyer from the ACLU who argued the case for the Nazis – contending that even the most hateful of speech was protected under the first amendment.

As an American and a Jew, I find it difficult to resolve my feelings around that Supreme Court case – but I am grateful that the prospect of Nazis marching in their streets spurred the survivors and other Skokie residents to act. They joined together to form the Holocaust Memorial Foundation and built the first Illinois Holocaust Museum in a storefront in 1981 – a small but important forerunner to the one I helped build thirty years later.

I do not invoke the specter of Nazis lightly. But I know the history intimately — and have spent more time than probably anyone in this room with people who survived the Holocaust. Here’s what I’ve learned – the root that tears apart your house’s foundation begins as a seed – a seed of distrust and hate and blame.

The seed that grew into a dictatorship in Europe a lifetime ago didn’t arrive overnight. It started with everyday Germans mad about inflation and looking for someone to blame.

I’m watching with a foreboding dread what is happening in our country right now. A president who watches a plane go down in the Potomac – and suggests — without facts or findings — that a diversity hire is responsible for the crash. Or the Missouri Attorney General who just sued Starbucks – arguing that consumers pay higher prices for their coffee because the baristas are too “female” and “nonwhite.” The authoritarian playbook is laid bare here: They point to a group of people who don’t look like you and tell you to blame them for your problems.

I just have one question: What comes next? After we’ve discriminated against, deported or disparaged all the immigrants and the gay and lesbian and transgender people, the developmentally disabled, the women and the minorities – once we’ve ostracized our neighbors and betrayed our friends – After that, when the problems we started with are still there staring us in the face – what comes next.

All the atrocities of human history lurk in the answer to that question. And if we don’t want to repeat history – then for God’s sake in this moment we better be strong enough to learn from it.

I swore the following oath on Abraham Lincoln’s Bible: “I do solemnly swear that I will support the constitution of the United States, and the constitution of the state of Illinois, and that I will faithfully discharge the duties of the office of Governor .... according to the best of my ability.

My oath is to the Constitution of our state and of our country. We don’t have kings in America – and I don’t intend to bend the knee to one. I am not speaking up in service to my ambitions — but in deference to my obligations.

If you think I’m overreacting and sounding the alarm too soon, consider this:

It took the Nazis one month, three weeks, two days, eight hours and 40 minutes to dismantle a constitutional republic. All I’m saying is when the five-alarm fire starts to burn, every good person better be ready to man a post with a bucket of water if you want to stop it from raging out of control.

Those Illinois Nazis did end up holding their march in 1978 – just not in Skokie. After all the blowback from the case, they decided to march in Chicago instead. Only twenty of them showed up. But 2000 people came to counter protest. The Chicago Tribune reported that day that the “rally sputtered to an unspectacular end after ten minutes.” It was Illinoisans who smothered those embers before they could burn into a flame.

Tyranny requires your fear and your silence and your compliance. Democracy requires your courage. So gather your justice and humanity, Illinois, and do not let the “tragic spirit of despair” overcome us when our country needs us the most.

Sources:

• NBC Chicago & J.B. Pritzker, Democratic governor of Illinois, State of the State address 2025: Watch speech here | Full text

• Betches News on Instagram (screencaps)

[vrystalius]

Not saying “I love you“ back to the Squid game men.

How will they react if you don‘t say it back? In what scenario would they not say it back to you?

Pairing: The Recruiter, Thanos, Nam-gyu, Dae-ho, Gi-hun, In-ho x gn!reader

Summary: Them not saying “I love you“, their reaction to you not saying “I love you“

Genre: fluff, a lil bit of angst sprinkled on top

If you’re interested, here’s more fluff! Calling the Squid Game men some weird petnames and their reaction to it!

(Pre-Squid game)

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

Gong Yoo // The Recruiter // The Salesman

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It barely ever happens, really. He adores everything about you, from your face, voice, body and the ground you walk on; that man is ready to worship you like a devoted follower would to the most merciful goddess. Therefor he would always be aware of how to make your day a little better, even if it‘s just a small “I love you” or a gentle kiss here and there.

The first thing you hear from him in the morning is a groggy voice mumbling a small “Good morning love...” into your ear while warm kisses were trailed down your back.

While standing in the kitchen and searching the fridge for any signs of a tasty breakfast, a small “I love you, I‘ll be back later!“ would echo slightly through the apartment as the front door closed.

Once, he did forget to say his usual I love you on the way out. He thought about how he possibly could forget? You‘re probably overthinking everything now and think what you might‘ve done wrong or do to offend him. You didn‘t, though! He was just too caught up in perfecting his appearance because his damn hair refused to obey and submit to his meticulous styling.

The poor man was almost scared to come home. As some sort of peace offering, he bought some of your favorite take-out food alongside some dessert, flowers and a new bracelet he thought you might like. Anything to try and make you know that he does really love you.

“Apologies, it completely slipped my mind. It will never happen again my sunshine. I love you.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

His face may be neutral and his expressions calculated but his features soften up immensely when you show even an ounce of affection. His smirk shifts into a dreamy smile, the crinkles around his mouth shifting and becoming bigger, his eyes twinkling just a little. He just can’t suppress when you even look at him.

Your kisses and words energise him, gift him life, so whenever you don’t give him that little boost of dopamine, he gets visibly more tense in a way.

The silence that followed after his usual “I love you my darling, I’ll be back later!” was almost eerie to him. He stuck his head back into the kitchen to check if you even heard him. You glanced back at him for a moment and gave your husband a dismissive head nod. So you did hear him?

Silently, he left the apartment and went on with his usual day during that time of the year. For some reason, today he is especially looking forward to slap his elders for loosing a damn children’s game. His face remained neutral and had his usual smirk on his face, but deep inside, he’s offended, confused, worried, stressed; all the negative emotions someone can feel after their spouse doesn’t reincorporate ones affection.

Do you want a divorce? Because hell no, he’d never let you go no matter how hard you

But once he got a little text message on his phone that read a simple: “Need cuddles in bed later pls. Got some snacks too. Love you.”, all of his worries washed away in an instant. You probably were still too sleepy to answer this morning.

A smile spread over his face as he thought about slipping into your arms tonight. Isn’t it ridiculous how he melt like putty in your hands?

“You forgot something this morning and it did worry me a lot. But it doesn’t matter, it’s silly anyway.”

Thanos // Su-bong // Player 230

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It’s actually quite rare to hear Thanos say “I love you” word for word. He still feels awkward committing himself to the relationship you have and those three magic words feel so heavy on his tongue, so he’ll rephrase them to suit his level of comfort. “Love ya”, “Thanos loves you” and “Me too” are his ways to dodge the action to reincorporate those sweets words you shower him with.

Thanos only really says “I love you” if you two are alone, sober and you holding him in your arms. To be cradled by someone he admires, cares and loves so much makes him want to cry for some reason, but he suppresses those emotions and instead buries his face in your shoulder as your hand soothingly runs up and down his back.

Those are the times you hear a small “I love you…” being mumbled against your warm skin.

So quiet it’s almost unnoticeable, yet it was there. You know Su-bong needs time to get used to everything, so you’ll settle with a small audio message-rap in reply to your usual “I love you” text message.

“Back to the kitty ‘cause she kinda pretty, I can’t stop looking at her ti- ti- ti-face.. Anyways, thinking of you babygirl. Iloveyatoo.” (You barely caught him saying this the way how quietly he mumbled it into the mic)

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

It’s fine. It’s cool. You don’t have to reassure him every day that you love him, it’s totally fine. You still love him like you did the day before.

It causes a deep panic inside of Thanos when you don’t give him his usual “I love you” text in the morning after he had woken up. He kept checking his phone like a madman, while he was brushing his teeth, peeking his arm and head out of the shower in the middle of shampooing, staring at his text messages while microwaving himself an convenience store meal. Nothing.

Not wanting to reach out first and appear clingy, he decided to write you like he is not having a full blown eternal panic attack. A small voice message here, a picture of his food there, a selfie from the bottom to show off his double chin, anything really.

You replied like normal but still, his eyes searched for the three key words. I. Love. You.

Thanos doesn’t want to admit to himself or to anyone for that matter that your calls, texts, hell, you coming over is like the most addictive drug to him. And he had his share of all kinds of colourful drugs.

His foot was nervously tapping the ground while his finger kept ringing your poor doorbell until you were forced to answer. He gave you a close look up and down, his lips formed into a pout of sorts.

“You okay? You didn’t text me you love me this morning. It’s totally cool and all but like… do you want to break up with me or something?”

Nam-gyu // Player 124

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Similar to Thanos, at first, Nam-gyu barely ever told you how much he loved you, liked you even. He just assumed you already knew and his actions were enough. A small side hug there and ruffling your hair here had to be enough for the rest of the week anyway.

He is guarded, afraid of commitment and to be frank in belief that you’re using him for the longest of time. Maybe you’re just “dating” him to get access to high-end drugs, all kinds of clubs or whatever else reason there is there to date him but for love.

You had to say those three magic words first for him to get comfortable with the thought that you are actually just want to date and love him. It came to him in the middle of a night shift at a random club he was supposed to promote. A moment of enlightenment.

Nam-gyu hid in a bathroom stall with his phone and ignored whatever the couple was doing next door, writing you a whole paragraph about what he was thinking, feeling, before deleting everything again because he thought he’d come off as some kind of pussy if he’d sent that.

His first time telling you how much he loved you was at your place. A casual evening watching some random movie you picked out while being arms deep in a bag of chips and dressed like a homeless person, Nam-gyu was staring up at you as if you were the most beautiful person in the universe even during this ungraceful moment of yours, admiring you in silence until finally…

“I love you.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you…

Did he fuck up again? Do or say something wrong? Don’t you love him anymore? Was there someone else?? His thoughts go ballistic as he stared at the screen of his phone with a deadpan-expression, trying to shake the crippling fear and nervousness off while looking nonchalant.

Nam-gyu’s finger kept hovering over the call button to check on you in case something happened because there could be a whole other person talking to him by how there were no affirmations at all.

He doesn’t want to appear clingy or too attached to you as that may scare you off or even disgust you, so Nam-gyu’s casually mention that one time you didn’t say “I love you” while fidgeting with his ring, trying to appear indifferent about it while intensely watching your facial expression shift to try and detect if you’re lying about your reasoning or not.

Your boyfriend is afraid to not be good enough, too much, too little. Your little affirmations give him reassurance, every day a little more until he’s full convinced that you do really, really love him.

“Hey, uhhh. Did you forget anything today?… No? You sure? Mkay.”

Dae-ho // Player 388

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Never happens. Either he is dead and not able to reply to you or already said it multiple times throughout the day. Dae-ho has separation anxiety and gets nervous when he doesn’t have you in line of his sight or not around him in general, that’s why he always tells you how much he loves you whenever he can.

Off to the bathroom? I love you. Bringing the trash out? I love you. Getting dressed? You’re gorgeous and I love you. You could be simply existing and Dae-ho would bury his face in your neck and mumble a soft I love you into your warm skin, his lips planting a soft kiss here and there.

Dae-ho is just a little scared about saying his usual affirmation in front of his family, mostly his father. He’s a very affectionate and physical man but he still wants to look like the tough-marine-son his dad wants to see.

His sisters know better though, they see how their brother’s eyes twinkle in delight when you help his mom out in the kitchen with the dinner.

He does make it up to you after coming home though. Your boyfriend will stuff the leftovers his mom gave him into the microwave and usher to you made yourself comfortable on the couch while he makes some preparations to completely pamper you for the rest of the evening.

Sometimes Dae-ho’ll even try to flirt a little but he’s still a little awkward in that department.

“Hey, do you want some snacks with that? A drink? O-Or am I enough of a snack…?”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you…

Every time Dae-ho tells you that he loves you, you always reply with equal enthusiasm. How could you not? That golden retriever of a man gets that almost childish smile of his whenever you kiss his cheek or just tell him that he looks handsome today.

Once, you tested how he’d react when you don’t give him his hourly dose of dopamine by deflecting or ignoring his touches.

As his arms securely snaked around your waist and gently pulled you against his torso, you paid him no mind and continued to stir the ramen in the food container. He watched the noodles move in circles and gave your waist a gentle poke, trying to pull your attention to him. Dae-ho’s eyes slowly dimmed and the edges of his smile turned downwards.

The silence made him seriously nervous. You could feel his rapidly increasing heartbeat drum against your back.

“Hey… is everything okay? Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry. Can you talk to me?…”

Gi-hun // Player 456 (post s1)

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Gi-hun always reassures you of his love, even during arguments. He wants you to know that he cherishes and loves you for the rest of his life and that you are his everything. Whenever he doesn’t say I love you, something must’ve happened.

He has been missing for a whole week and you had no idea where your boyfriend went. Gi-hun didn’t leave a note, a voice mail, no nothing!

And after he returned and suddenly began giving you expensive gifts, the same boyfriend that used to ask you for money to get himself an convenience store dinner, now began buying you new headphones, bracelet and whatever else you even eyed.

It was nice, sure, but you were more worried about his mental state. He was paranoid and quiet, kept checking his whole body for some kind of tracker and barely ever spoke what was on his mind. Gi-hun began having panic attacks and you were barely able to leave his side because of how terrified he was to leave you alone.

He barely touched you, gave you kisses or affection. He changed after whatever happened during that week he went missing.

While running your fingers through his hair, trying to make him fall asleep after being awake for two days straight, he sleepily stared up at you through his dyed-red hair. His voice was quiet, broken almost.

“I’m sorry. Please… know that I love you. I love you so much.. Don’t leave me, please… please...”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

Your boyfriend called out to you but you didn’t quite hear what he said, so you replied with an ��yeah!” and just hoped that that’s an appropriate response to whatever he tried to tell or ask you. It wasn’t.

Gi-hun stood there for a couple of moments, waiting on your reply to yelling “I love you!” across the whole apartment. When nothing came, he didn’t call out to you again. You were probably busy with something or don’t want him with your right now, he gets that.

Later though, thoughts of self-doubt began to cook up inside his mind. As he bit all his nails to shreds he overthought about how you had enough of him now. Maybe you are falling out of love now after how the death games fucked up his mind and body. You’re surely fed up with his paranoia and secretive behaviour, how much he has been obsession over finding a weird salesman. Surely.

The metallic taste that spread inside his mouth after biting the skin surrounding his nails began to open and bleed finally pulled Gi-hun out of his self-destructive thoughts that continued to circle like a toy train. Picking up his throwaway phone and choosing the one contact he saved on every single burner phone he had as “Reason to smile ❤️” and pressing the call button.

“Gi-hun? What’s wrong?” Your voice forced a small smile to form on his face. He hesitated

“Hey. Just wanted to ask if I should bring some take out home tonight. That’s all.”

In-ho // The Frontman // Player 001

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It’s purely just to tease you. When bored, In-ho will make you his greatest entertainment.

He likes making you annoyed and flustered, so he’ll intentionally ignore you just to make you react and pout at him adorably while he was trying so hard to keep his stone cold face and not break into a shit-eating grin and maybe even pull on your cheek to make you whine even more.

In-ho adores your whole being and cherishes all of your affections, so he’ll let himself get showered in them any tome he can.

Expect you to he cuddled up on his lap while he was leaning back in the leather chair, mumbling a complaint about how you covered his whole face in kisses but managed to miss the bridge of his nose. He will not allow you to move off his lap until you covered his whole face in kisses again as compensation for that mistake of yours.

So, In-ho’ll intentionally not give you affection so you pay even more attention to him. He is like a cat in that way weirdly enough.

Once you finally break his facade, the flood gates will open and you will be showered, bathed, drowned in his affection, physical and verbal.

“Fine. I’ll say it just because you’ve been so good to me today. I love you, my dearest, lovely darling.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

In-ho has a dedicated frequency on his walkie-talkie for you, so he can call in and ask you to come to his office for a kiss that cannot wait, to inform you that he is in the bedroom and retiring for the day or just to tell you that he loves you randomly throughout the day.

Of course, you’d always reply back with your own gadget, but to pay back his infinite teasing he has done to you, you decided to ignore him the way he sometimes does to you. Payback.

Your husband called into your frequency. “Dove, are you free right now? Come to my office, I miss you.” and so your game begins. You simply ignored his request and continued getting comfortable in your bed and all the sheets surrounding you, grinning to yourself as you awaited the next time In-ho calls in again, for which you don’t have to wait long for.

“Darling, I am waiting. Do you want me to send someone to pick you up?” Your grin widened as you heard how impatient he was slowly getting with the lack of your response. “I can see you in the bedroom.” That one caught you off guard. Did he install cameras in your shared bedroom??

Almost on cue, your bedroom door opened, revealing the masked Frontman. His shoulders were tense and you could feel his intense state through the mask. You stared back, not expecting how quickly your husband would cave in and visit you himself. Innocently, you batted your lashes at him.

In-ho slipped his mask off and carelessly tossed it on the nightstand. “Why are you ignoring me? Are you upset or just moody?” Unimpressed, you silently glared at him. He gave you an equally uninterested look and leaned down to your face to give you a small peck on your cheek. “Not enough. More.”

A chuckle escaped his lips as his lips cracked into a smile.

“Demanding, aren’t we? Fine. As you wish.”

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading <3

Watch me announce that I’m going to post In-ho’s yandere profile and proceed to get hit with the most ungodly group-assignment in Chemistry. Anyways, take this as an apology! Had to write a little fluff for them since the only thing I’m finding is smut 🙏😭 I’m not complaining but this fluff prompt came to me like a truck during a class of mine. It was originally inspired by this post and I made a similar one before for the Demon Slayer hashira. Check it out if you’re interested!!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

[whytheylosttheirminds]

isn't she lovely?

your ex-boyfriend, crimeboss!Rafe wanted nothing to do with the daughter you'd made together, until he held her for the first time...

blurb, wc 626

content: pregnancy, childbirth, mentions of dark past, angst

ִ ۫ ˑ ֗ ִ ˑ ּ 𖥔 𓄼 ࣪⠀ ִ ۫ ּ ֗ ִ ۪ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫ ˑִ ۫ ˑ ֗ ִ ˑ ּ 𖥔 𓄼 ࣪⠀ ִ ۫ ּ ֗ ִ ۪ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫ ˑ

You didn’t want to tell him. 

You thought of every reason not to - the con side of your pro/con list filling an entire notebook. The one and only pro of telling him was this: if you didn’t tell him, and he somehow found out anyway, he’d make your life hell. 

At least if he knew, you knew that he knew. So against the better judgement screaming in your head, you went to Tannyhill one day, sat on his bed and pulled out the positive pregnancy test.

That was nine months ago, and aside from a note from his sleezy lawyer making it clear that Rafe was not going to be held financially responsible, you hadn’t heard anything from the father of your child. You had a friend who worked at the airstrip who kept you informed of his coming and going, and you always wondered if one day that private jet would take off with him in it and never return. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t hope it’d do just that. 

According to your friend, he was in Bangkok the night you went into labor. After fourteen hours of the deepest, lonliest pain you had ever experienced, the doctor placed your screaming baby girl on your chest. You cried with her, shushing her, promising her it’s just you and me, kid. We’re gonna be okay.

No text from your friend usually meant the Cameron jet hadn’t returned yet, but you still insisted on keeping your baby girl in the hospital room with you instead of letting them take her to the nursery. Rafe Cameron was the most unpredictable person you ever met, and though he never let you know exactly what it was he did, you knew he was dangerous. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to get what he wanted. You weren’t letting your baby girl out of your sight.

It took every ounce of strength you had to fight off sleep, despite the nurse’s insistence that you needed to rest. She couldn’t possibly understand, you hadn’t had a moment of peace since that man entered your life, and you probably never would again. 

It was just five minutes, you were only going to close your eyes for five minutes. But when you woke an hour later, the silhouette of a man towering in the corner of the room made you shoot straight up in terror. You were about to scream, but before you could, he turned quickly towards you with his finger to his lip, revealing your sleeping daughter in his arms.

“Rafe,” you whispered, petrified. “I didn’t think you were…I mean I would’ve…”

“It’s okay,” he whispered back, gently sitting in the chair next to your bed, careful not to stir the tiny infant in his arms. “You can go back to sleep, I’ve got her.”

Just as you were about to protest, your daughter stirred, squawking as though she was about to cry. Instead, her little hand reached out of her swaddle and wrapped around Rafe’s forefinger. You waited with baited breath to see how he’d respond. 

For just a moment, his eyes widened, and his large broad shoulders softened, and the corner of his lips twitched ever-so-slightly. And then suddenly he was handing her to you, standing abruptly from his chair. She wailed as he stormed toward the door.

“That’s it?” You called to him over her cries, confused at the sudden shift in his mannerisms.

“I have to take care of some…things,” he turned to look at his daughter in your arms, her little fingers reaching for something to hold onto. “I’ll be back.”

You didn’t know it then, but that was the moment that your daughter, whom you’d gotten to hold for only a handful of hours, became his.

ִ ۫ ˑ ֗ ִ ˑ ּ 𖥔 𓄼 ࣪⠀ ִ ۫ ּ ֗ ִ ۪ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫ ˑִ ۫ ˑ ֗ ִ ˑ ּ 𖥔 𓄼 ࣪⠀ ִ ۫ ּ ֗ ִ ۪ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫ ˑ

a/n: just a little drabble I wrote over a year ago when I was trying to get my footing as a fic writer. part of my one year cele!

[hanniebaeee]

Clueless: Peek-a-boo?

Felix x fem!reader

Warnings: suggestive content MDNI

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff

Summary: You and Felix live on the topmost floor of your buildings - apartments facing each other, with long windows giving a glimpse into each other's lives. And then one day, everything changes.

Clueless Masterlist

Every evening, Felix saw the most beautiful girl in the window opposite to his. You lived in the apartment facing his, in the building opposite to his.

He didn’t know he believed in angels, until you showed up at that damn window, all soft light and effortless grace, and he became a devout believer. But those floor-to-ceiling windows in your bedroom seemed to be your favorite place because he saw you there a lot. Looking so peaceful as the breeze kissed your skin and the city lights illuminated your face.

He told himself to stop. That you were just a stranger. That this window obsession was not normal human behavior. But every time you stretched by your window or gave him a soft smile, Felix felt blessed.

And then, it happened. 

It was a normal night. Felix had just finished a shower, steam curling around him as he stepped out, a white towel hanging low on his hips. He was drying his hair with another one. 

Completely normal. Until it wasn't. 

Because of course, God had favorites and Felix definitely wasn’t one of them, apparently. You were standing by the window as usual. Your eyes met. Felix didn't even know what had happened until it was too late, and the towel around his hips was already on the floor.

For a solid three seconds, you froze. You didn’t mean to look. You really didn’t. But it happened so fast that your poor, innocent eyes bore witness to everything.

A choked sound clawed its way up your throat. Your hands flew to your face as you spun on your heel, bolting so fast from the window that Felix swore you left behind a cartoon dust cloud.

And Felix? Felix quickly covered himself with the towel in his hand, his heart pounding so fast. 

"NO. NO, NO, NO, NO"

---

Felix: GUYS I’M MOVING TO ANTARCTICA. IT WAS NICE KNOWING Y’ALL.

Chan: What? 

Hyunjin: What did you do?

Minho: Leave your key under the mat.

Jeongin: Wtf happened? 

Felix: I FLASHED MY NEIGHBOR.

Felix: MY WINDOW GIRL. MY ANGEL. THE LOVE OF MY LIFE. SHE SAW EVERYTHING.

Seungmin: define everything

Felix: Everything everything. 

Changbin: bro what do you mean you flashed your neighbor??

Jisung: Oh Lord 💀💀

Felix: MY TOWEL FELL. SHE WAS RIGHT THERE. OMG. 

Hyunjin: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

Chan: Oh my god.

Felix: AND NOW I HAVE TO FAKE MY DEATH AND ASSUME A NEW IDENTITY. OMG.

Hyunjin: You just gave your crush an exclusive, VIP, free-of-charge viewing of your whole ass body and you think you're suffering??

Felix: YES I’M SUFFERING??

Jeongin: Nah bro I think she’s the one suffering.

Felix: I AM GOING TO CRY.

Minho: Pack your bags.

Seungmin: It was nice knowing you. 

Felix: I’M NEVER SHOWING MY FACE AGAIN.

Hyunjin: Imagine running into her 😁

Felix: SHUT UP.

Changbin: Bro ur gonna have to move.

Felix: I KNOW.

Jisung: Idk man. she might’ve liked what she saw. 👀

Felix: HAN JISUNG I WILL KILL YOU WITH MY BARE HANDS.

---

You were disintegrating. No. Worse. You were ascending. No. Even worse. You were being violently ejected from the mortal plane.

Because you had just seen your hot, ridiculously beautiful neighbor - on whom you had the biggest crush - completely utterly naked.

Your soul had left your body the moment his towel hit the floor. It was probably somewhere in another dimension, floating through the galaxies, forever lost. 

And his eyes - those big, brown, Bambi eyes - had gone so wide, so shocked, so horrified. Oh your heart did weird flips. You were never recovering from this. Ever. 

Felix had spent the entire night buried under his blankets, contemplating his life choices while the boys absolutely tore him to shreds over this incident. 

He had spent the entire next morning aggressively gaming to forget everything (it didn’t work). He had spent the afternoon avoiding every single window in his apartment. 

And yet. And yet.

When the evening rolled around, when the sky turned a dusky shade of orange and the city lights flickered on… he couldn't help it.

He looked. He had walked into his bedroom, and his eyes fell on the window, and he took a peek. His brain told him no. But his dumbass heart said yes.

And there you were.  Beautiful as ever. But your face? Murderous. You were arguing.  

Your phone was pressed to your ear, your free hand waving wildly as you went off on whoever was on the other end of the call. Your brows were furrowed, your lips moving rapidly, and your whole body was tense. 

Felix froze. And Felix was turned on. So damn much.

How did you look this good while yelling at someone? How did you manage to be so breathtakingly hot when you were this angry?

And unfortunately for him, you turned and looked straight at him. 

Felix panicked, and flinched. Instead of playing it cool like a normal human being, his reflexes betrayed him in the worst way possible. He was just trying to run, but tripped over his own feet - legs tangled, arms flailing.

His entire body went crashing onto the floor. For a second, he just lay there, praying you didn’t see that.

But of course you did. The phone was off your ear, and you were looking at him with concern on your face and Felix just wanted to die. 

---

Felix: I JUST FELL FLAT ON MY FACE. 

Felix: IN FRONT OF HER.

Felix: SHE WAS LOOKING RIGHT AT ME.  

Felix: I AM NOT OKAY.

Hyunjin: LMAOOOOOOO

Jeongin: HAHAHAHAHAHAH 

Jisung: At this point, I don't even know how you do this. Repeatedly. 

Seungmin: Hold on. HOLD ON.  

Seungmin: You got caught staring at her AGAIN?

Felix: IT WASN’T ON PURPOSE.

Minho: You are an embarrassment.  

Felix: I AM IN DISTRESS.

Felix: SHE’S SO HOT WHEN SHE’S ANGRY I WANT HER TO YELL AT ME.

Minho: Yongbok. This is not how I coached you.

Jishng: Oh please. This is exactly how you coached him. Striptease and simping. He did just that.

Hyunjin: Omg, LEE KNOW?!

Minho: 😑

Hyunjin: Do you need me to send an ambulance?

Jeongin: No, he needs a one-way ticket to the underworld at this point.

Seungmin: SHE HAS SEEN YOU BUTT-ASS NAKED AND NOW SHE’S SEEN YOU FACEPLANT INTO THE FLOOR.  

Seungmin: Wow. You're even worse than Jeongin at this point.

Jeongin: Excuse me, my girlfriend will Osotogari you into another dimension if I say so. 

Seungmin: Try me.

Jeongin: 👊

Felix: Why am I like this 😩 Why does God hate me?! 

Minho: He doesn't hate you.

Minho: He’s just trying to humble you. 

Felix: I AM HUMBLE ENOUGH.

Jisung: Are you though. 

Hyunjin: Just confess at this point bro wtf. 

Felix: CONFESS WHAT??? 

Jisung: THAT YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH HER. 

Felix: I DON’T EVEN KNOW HER.

Chan: Bro.

Minho: You know the exact times she gets home every day.

Jeongin: You literally talk about her all the time. Jisung: AND YOU JUST ADMITTED YOU THINK SHE’S HOT EVEN WHEN SHE’S ANGRY.

Felix: Bye. 

You had resisted Jennie’s invitation at first. Because it's already a trap that your best friend lives in the same building as him. But you were not going to run into him after the two disastrous days you've had.

“No. Absolutely not.” You said, shaking your head.

Jennie's face was so close to the camera, you could literally smell her through the screen. 

“Why?” Jennie asked. "Why are we on video call? I live right next door!"

“Because the hottest man I’ve ever seen lives there, and I -”

Jennie squinted. “Uh huh. It's never stopped you from visiting before. You’re lying.”  

“Am not.”  

“You are. Spill.” 

“I might have accidentally seen him naked -”

“EXCUSE ME?” Jennie shrieked. 

You waved frantically, trying to talk over her shrieking, “NOT ON PURPOSE!”  

“WAIT, WAIT -” She pointed at herself. “You saw a naked hot guy and you didn't tell ME?!”

You sighed. “Yes.”  

Jennie’s jaw dropped.

“WHY HAVE I NEVER MET THIS GUY?!?”  

“I'm hanging up!”

“Oh my God, chill! SO VIOLENT.”  

“I am not running into him. You can come over anytime you know.” You said, glaring at her. 

Jennie rolled her eyes and said, “Oh, come on. What are the odds you’d run into him?”  

You hesitated.  

Jennie had a point. You wouldn’t randomly see him, right? 

---

Fast forward to now:

You sprinted for the elevator just as the doors were closing, because you weren't going to climb ten floors to Jennie's apartment. 

You barely made it. And the second you stepped inside, you locked eyes with him.  

HIM.

You felt every single one of your brain cells exit your body. And he didn't look any better. In fact he looked seconds away from climbing the walls like a feral animal. You had never seen a man so close to death before. 

But your mind? Your first thought? Oh. He actually looks nice in clothes. Like you've always seen him in pyjamas, or hoodies (or absolutely nothing). But he actually looked so good in his jeans and black t-shirt and the leather jacket. 

Ok, you needed to leave. Immediately. So you turned, trying to make it out before the doors closed. It was funny how they slid shut right on your face. 

The silence was even worse. Crippling and suffocating.

---

The doors slid open on Jennie's floor, and you were about to step out, but there stood Jennie.

Why the hell was she standing there? 

Her eyes immediately landed on you.  Then on Felix. Then back to you. You don't know what she saw on your face, because her eyes narrowed.

“IS THAT HIM?!”  

You jumped and slapped your hand over her mouth. 

“SHHHHHHHH.” 

Jennie’s eyes screamed, as if to say, “OH MY GOD IT’S HIM” 

The elevator doors closed again, and Jennie said, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME HE WAS THAT HOT?!”  

“JENNIE WHAT THE FUCK?!”  

“Oooohh, you like him!” Jennie smirked, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

You swung you bag at her and she escaped narrowly with a squeal. 

---

Felix: I WAS IN AN ELEVATOR WITH WINDOW GIRL.  

Jeongin: OH. MY. GOD.

Hyunjin: LOL 

Minho: WHAT ARE THE ODDS????

Felix: ZERO. THE ODDS WERE SUPPOSED TO BE ZERO.

Chan: LMAO 

Jisung: Felix, this is destiny  

Hyunjin: Did you talk?

Felix: NO. I WAS TOO BUSY MALFUNCTIONING

Changbin: Did she say anything?

Felix: NO. She tried to escape but the doors won that round. 

Jisung: STOPPPP 

Hyunjin: NOT THE ELEVATOR BETRAYING HER🤣  

Minho: So much potential

Jisung: Ask her out, you coward. 

Felix: SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP 

You felt bad. Because the poor guy has been repeatedly traumatized for no reason, and it felt absolutely unfair. So you decided to be mature about it. 

Your knees wobbled at the thought of talking to him face to face. So you had another idea. 

---

Later that evening, you sat by your window as usual (waiting). 

There he was. Felix walked into his room, stretching, and then froze when his eyes landed on you. You quickly picked up the little white board you'd ordered just for this (dramatic yes, but this was a dramatic situation). 

He watched curiously as you wrote something on it quickly, and held it up for him.

I’M SORRY FOR WHAT HAPPENED.  

Felix blinked, completely surprised. And his face turned a cute pink. And then he did something that made your heart flutter. He smiled. A soft shy one.   

Felix watched, his heart pounding so fast as you started writing again. Then, you held it up. 

DO YOU WANT TO GET COFFEE WITH ME?

Felix.exe has crashed. His crush, his dream girl, just asked him out.  

Felix scrambled. He looked around his room for something and came running back with a book and a marker. 

 YES. YES. HOLY SHIT YES.  

You snorted as you saw his reply. Then he wrote again. 

I’M FELIX.

You grinned, quickly scribbling back.  

I’M Y/N. NICE TO MEET YOU FELIX!

You watched as he smiled softly, his cheeks still pink.  

AND YOU. CAN I PICK YOU UP TOMORROW?  

Your stomach flipped. This was actually happening. Really really happening. You bit your lip, then quickly scribbled. 

7PM?

Felix beamed and nodded, with the biggest, dorkiest smile on his face.  

---  

Felix: HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT

Hyunjin: WHAT WHAT WHAT?! 

Jisung: HE’S HAVING A STROKE I CAN FEEL IT.

Felix: SHE JUST ASKED ME OUT.

Changbin: YOU’RE LYING. 

Seungmin: LMAO

Jeongin: And and and?!? 

Minho: SHE WHAT.

Chan: SAY YES. SCREAM IT. 

Felix: WE HAVE A DATE. I’M DYING. OMG.

Felix: SHE JUST ASKED ME OUT THROUGH A FUCKING WHITEBOARD.  

Jisung: WHY IS THAT SO STUPIDLY CUTE! 

Hyunjin: NOT THE WHITEBOARD CONFESSION!

Jisung: EVERYONE SHUT UP. LIXIE HAS A DATE! 

Hyunjin: Gotta say, you have the best story to tell among us

Minho: And here I thought Hyunjin was the most embarrassing among us

Hyunjin: Obviously it was Jeongin for being thrown around by his girl

Jeongin: Well excuse you, Jisung nearly peed his pants when he wanted to ask HIS girl out

Jisung: Please. Guess who stripped for forgiveness? Um, not me? 

Minho: I DID NOT STRIP FOR FORGIVENESS!

Chan: Amatures. All of you.

Changbin: You didn't even know that your fiancee was literally carrying your child and ran around wailing that she didn't love you anymore. Oh my God.

Chan: CHANGBIN!

Seungmin: He's got a point, ya know

---

Felix was obviously so stressed. Because he wanted this to be perfect. And suddenly, everyone was giving him dating advice. And none of it was remotely useful. What's new. 

---

Changbin: Bro you gotta flex. Show her those arms. 

Felix: WHAT.

Chan: Yeah, mate. Roll up your sleeves, make the veins pop.

Felix: Omg  

Hyunjin: He'd literally pop a vein and then we'll actually have to send an ambulance. 

Jisung: Accidentally brush fingers when you pass her the coffee. Totally innocent. 

Minho: ALPHA MALE STARE. Look her in the eye. Don't blink. 

Felix: I’M GONNA GET ARRESTED.

Jeongin: Drop something, and pick it up slowly so she sees your back muscles.   

Felix: She has unfortunately seen way too much muscle to last a while 😵‍💫

Hyunjin: OK. SHUT UP EVERYONE. FELIX. JUST BE YOURSELF.

Jisung: YEAH. BE YOURSELF. BUT HOTTER. 

Felix: 🙄🙄🙄  

The date was in an hour. And Felix was barely keeping it together. His entire apartment looked like a crime scene, with outfits thrown everywhere, his hair was still wet from the shower.  

---

Felix: I'm so nervous, my stomach hurts

Jisung: It's a good nervous though? 

Hyunjin: You can do it, Lix

Changbin: REMEMBER. SHOW HER THE VEINS. 

Felix: OMG 

Chan: Don't worry, she likes you. You like her. It'll be OK!

Seungmin: Just be yourself, make her laugh. 

Jeongin: If you're nervous, just sit there and look pretty 🤷‍♂️

Jisung: NOOOO HE NEEDS TO DO BOTH. LOOK PRETTY AND BE CHARMING.

Felix : I’M SWEATING. I’M ACTUALLY SWEATING.

Hyunjin: GO WASH YOUR FACE RN. AND FIX YOUR HAIR.

Felix: I LOOK LIKE A DROWNED RAT.  

Minho: Great. You're ready.   

Felix: I AM GONNA THROW UP.

---

But he does go and get you some flowers and meet you at the entrance to your building. He was fidgeting, checking his reflection in his phone camera for the 100th time when you walked out.

Felix froze for a second because you looked like a dream. And for once Felix felt like the universe did love him. Because it gave him you. 

You grinned and held your hand out.

“Hey, Felix.” you said, and Felix quickly shook your hand, before giving you the flowers. 

“Thank you,” You said, and his entire brain short-circuited.

He was so fucked.

---

Felix: WE SHOOK HANDS. I’M DEAD. BURY ME.

Jisung: A HANDSHAKE??? YOU FORMAL ASS IDIOT. 

Changbin: BRO YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO HUG HER NOT INTERVIEW HER. 

Felix: I’M IN LOVE.  

Hyunjin: OMG DON’T BE A SIMP. 

Minho: TOO LATE. 

---

The date was perfect.  Felix had never been this happy in his entire life. You were amazing - you laughed at his jokes, teased him mercilessly, and your eyes? It was on him the whole time. 

Felix was literally in heaven. 

You even let him walk you home.  Stood side by side in the elevator, unable to hide the smiles on your faces.  And then you stopped at your door and glanced at him, eyes sparkling with something mischievous.  

“Maybe next time,” you mused with a smile, “I’ll invite you in.”

Felix nodded dumbly - he would have nodded to anything you said to be honest - his entire body heating up. 

Next time. You said next time. You wanted a next time.

You laughed softly at how dazed he looked, and then leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. A little too close to his mouth. A soft lingering kiss. 

And when you pulled back a little bit, Felix chased your lips with his - it was almost involuntary, like he had no choice but to close the small gap.  

And then his lips caught yours in the most perfect kiss of his life. Just long enough to drive him insane, but not long enough to satisfy the absolute hunger suddenly roaring inside of him.

When you pulled away, your breath fanned against his lips and your eyes flickered with mischief. You were both grinning like idiots, blushing so hard.   

You bit your lip, taking a step back and whispered, “Good night, Felix.”

He barely managed a choked, “Good night,” before you disappeared into your apartment. 

The second your door clicked shut, Felix sprinted.

---

Hyunjin: WHERE TF IS HE.  

Jisung: DID SHE KILL HIM? 

Changbin: FELIX ANSWER US RIGHT NOW.  

Minho: I'm so curious

Chan: OMG LET HIM BREATHE!

Jeongin: I BET HE'S HAVING THE TIME OF HIS LIFE.

Seungmin: He's probably just walking home. 

Hyunjin: WELL HE CAN TEXT AND WALK. 

Jisung: WHAT IF HE PASSED OUT. LIXIE!! 

---

Felix stumbled into his apartment, collapsed onto his bed, and with trembling hands, grabbed his phone.  

---

Felix: GUYS. 

Jisung: HOLY FUCK HE’S ALIVE.  

Hyunjin: REPORT. IMMEDIATELY.  

Changbin: Spill. 

Felix: IT WAS AMAZING. WE KISSED. SHE SAID WANTED A NEXT TIME. WITH ME. OMG. 

Chan: Go Felix!! 

Minho: Details. Now. 

Jeongin: We need a play-by-play.

Felix: She kissed me on the cheek first. But then, I kinda kissed her on the lips.

Felix: It was so soft and sweet

Felix: Wait. WHY AM I TELLING YOU THIS.  

Changbin: Because we are your emotional support animals.

Jisung: You what. 

Hyunjin: You chased her lips didn't you? 

Felix: HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW THAT?!

Chan: How are you so weirdly accurate all the damn time Hyunjin?! 

Hyunjin: It's a talent Christopher 😎

Minho: You're ignoring the fact that your little boy chased her lips like a starving animal. 

Felix: I DIDN’T MEAN TO! IT JUST HAPPENED.

Seungmin: OUR BOY IS HUNGRY. 

Chan: Felix, do you realize what this means? 

Felix: WHAT.

Minho: YOU’RE GONNA GET LAID.

Chan: NO NO! OH MY GOD! I MEANT YOU SHOULD INVITE HER TO MY WEDDING AS YOUR PLUS ONE! MINHO!! 

Felix: I AM GOING TO PASS OUT.

Felix: GOOD NIGHT. 

Jisung: Bro’s gonna have good dreams tonight.  

Hyunjin: Spicy ones for sure. 

Felix: LEAVE ME ALONE.

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world @hanadulsetaad

[inkskinned]

i think a lot about exactly 1 thing from the roman empire: the concept of bread and circus. the idea was that if your population was fed and entertained, they wouldn't revolt. you are asking us to give up our one small life, is the thing - for under 15 dollars an hour.

what would that buy, even. i am trading weekends and late nights and my back health. i am trading slow mornings and long walks and cortisol levels. i am trading sleep and silence and peace. for ... this. for what barely-covers-rent.

life really is more expensive right now. you aren't making that up. i make almost 3 times what i did 5 years ago, and despite an incredibly equal series of bills - i am still struggling. the most expensive line item i added was to own a dog. the money is just evaporating.

we were okay with it because it's a cost-benefit analysis. i could handle the customer harassment and standing all day and the manager's constantly changing temperament - i was coming home to hope, and my life planned in a blue envelope. three hours would buy me my dog's food for a month. i can give up three hours for him, for his shiny coat and wide, happy mouth. three days could be a new mattress, if i was thrifty. if i really scrimped and saved, we could maybe afford a trip into the city.

recently i cried in the car about the price of groceries.

business majors will be mad at me, but my most inflammatory opinion is that people should never be valued at the same place as products. your staff should not be a series of numbers in an excel sheet that you can just "replace" whenever you need something at that moment. your staff should be people, end of sentence.

it feels like someone somewhere is playing a very bad video game. like my life is a toy. like someone opened an app on their phone and hired me in diner dash ultra. they don't need to pay me well or treat me alright - they can always just show me the door. there is always someone more desperate, always someone more willing.

but i go to work and know i could save for years and not afford housing. i am never going to own my own home, most likely. i have no idea how to afford her ring, much less the wedding. my dog doesn't have his own yard. everything i love is on subscription. if i lose my job, i have no "nest egg" to catch my falling.

this thin life - they want me to give up summer for it. to open my mouth and throat and swallow the horrible hours and counted keystrokes. they want me to give up mountains and any non-federal holiday. to give up snow days. to give up talking to my mom whenever i want. to give up visiting the ocean and hearing the waves.

bread and circus worked for a while, actually. it was the kind of plan that would probably now be denounced by republicans as socialist commie liberal pronoun bullshit.

but sometimes i wonder if we should point them to the part of the history book that says: it worked until it didn't.

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

a/n: another kofi request. This time it’s an Anatolian guard dog smut fic! Enjoy ^^

You stood out in the snow, coffee in hand as you waited by the door of the hybrid work agency. It was nice that there was somewhere that specifically hired out hybrids who were in need of work, because it helped everyone.

Lately, your apartment building had been the victim of multiple robberies, and each time the person that got robbed was closer and closer to you. Last week, your neighbor just two doors down had their entire apartment emptied out, leaving only the old food in the fridge and some lint.

So safe to say you were afraid you were going to be next.

Several of your friends suggested getting a security system, but your neighbor had one and it did nothing. No, you needed to go another route.

“Are you (Name)?”

You jumped, neatly slipping on the slick, icy sidewalk when you heard a voice behind you. Before you could fall, a hand grabbed your arm and steadied you.

When you turned, you spotted a tall man, a pair of fluffy, black dog ears. He wore a dark suit, his gloved hand pulling back from your arm once you regained your balance.

“Y-yes, I am. And you are..?”

“The guard dog you hired, my name is Duke.”

That made sense, he even had a lanyard with his name and role on it. “Ah… okay. My apartment is nearby, I already have one of the rooms ready for you. I have a few errands I have to run first though.”

Duke nodded, staying by your side as you walked. “I will accompany you.”

For the next few weeks, you had never felt safer in your life. Everywhere you went, Duke was always nearby, inspecting the area and making sure no one even thought of interrupting your peace.

Just a few days ago you were approached by a handsome looking man who claimed to have picked up something you dropped, but Duke was quick to step in front of you and twist the guy’s arm back.

“He’s got bad intentions, I can just sense it.”

For a moment you were in shock. Of course you knew Duke was big and strong, but the entire time he’d been guarding you he hadn’t shown his true strength. All he had to do was stand around you looking intimidating.

“D-Duke, he’s not-“

A handkerchief fell from the man’s pocket, and before you could pick it up Duke growled. “Don’t touch it!”

You pulled back your hand as if it had been burned, your cheeks growing hot with embarrassment and a bit of… arousal.

“It’s laced. The second you touch it you’ll start feeling dizzy. This guy has probably hurt a ton of girls using this method.”

You sat in Duke’s car as he handed the guy into the police station, still feeling a bit hot and bothered. Honestly, you were super grateful for and… a bit flustered by his protective nature.

From Duke’s pov, he had plans for you the moment h you met him. From your soft figure to your need for a protector, you were perfect.

Duke wanted a mate, and he bonded with you almost instantly. Getting to stand by and keep you safe all day aroused him to no end, and between shifts he spent most of his time fucking his hand, wanting more than anything to be thrusting into you instead.

That’s why when he smelled your arousal upon entering his car, Duke was quick to get you back to your apartment.

A part of him knew that it was unprofessional to be pushing you up against a wall and sniffing at you like a beast before covering your neck in hickeys, but he couldn’t care less.

You smelled too damn good, and he was sick and tired of everyone else looking at you like you didn’t belong to him already. “My little mate… getting all worked up, need to let off some steam, hmm?”

He set you on the bed before pushing you onto your belly, lifting your hips before lightly spanking your cunt. “Naughty thing. I’ve got to keep you safe, can’t have you all wet out there when every hybrid can smell your arousal from ten miles away.”

Duke was nearly twice your size, looming over you as his cock pressed against your tight hole. He did his best to prep you, pumping two fingers, then three in and out of your sopping wet cunt before he couldn’t take it anymore.

He pushed into you, letting out a growl when you whimpered and squirmed. “Easy, you can take it… be a good girl for me, okay? My sweet girl…”

Taking him wasn’t easy at all, in fact it took a minute for you to relax enough for Duke to even move, but once you eased up he began thrusting into you like a wild animal.

It made you see stars, the way he was fucking you stipid. You felt like you were losing yourself in each thrust, your hips moving desperately to meet his.

“G-gonna cum!”

When he knotted you after your fat cunt clenched around him, you truly understood what love was. While he stuffed you full, he caged your body under his, as if trying to shield you from the cruel and nasty world. You were just a sweet thing and he couldn’t stand the thought of anything taking you away from him.

He was so gentle, like a dog tending to the sheep he guarded. Duke groomed you and stayed inside of you for a long time, his curled tail wagging lazily.

“I’m gonna take care of you, okay? Don’t even have to pay me. You’re my mate now, got it?”

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi

[saythenametotheworld]

You Are In Love | y.jh (18+)

A life-changing event caused you to escape to the countryside—a coastal village with a small population of mostly old people and women. It was there that you found peace in your turbulent life and an unexpected connection with Yoon Jeonghan.

Genre: mistaken identity, strangers to lovers, smut Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x afab!Reader Warning: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+), NOT PROOFREAD! Canceled out the angst bcs, just bcs. Notes: 19k words, song prompt was You Are In Love by Taylor Swift. I miss Hannie sm. Why can't he be like jaehyun and taeyong who appear in public from time to time? jk, obviously. I'm not complaining (I am). Guys it's been a while! Although, I'm sure you're already used to me popping in and out randomly. Just wanna let yall know that I see your asks all the time and most of them make me giggle. I'm just a little shy so I don't interact much. I'll try tho :> Disclaimer: I do not know them, nor do I claim they would ever act irl the way they are portrayed in this story.

Playlist: You Are In Love - Taylor Swift, Star Blossom - Doyoung x Sejeong, Magnets - NIKI, Starlight - Taeyeon Enjoy~

After four hours on the road, you finally passed the sign marking the entrance to the small town. The coastal highway had felt endless, a stretch of asphalt lined with rolling hills, but now, the ocean breeze was carrying the freshness of the countryside and the faint scent of salt. You drove through gentle hills before reaching the heart of the village, where a few modest establishments lined the narrow streets.

You knew what was waiting for you—a small, idyllic town—but even so, the retro charm of the downtown area caught you off guard. No buildings rose taller than four stories. It was like a pocket of time frozen in place, with shopfronts displaying modern signs over worn wooden frames. The colors faded but were still vibrant in the afternoon light.

You drove past the last few storefronts, through rows of homes and wide open fields until you reached the guest house. It looked much like the other houses in the neighborhood—simple and unassuming, save for the bright red roof and the wooden signpost by the gate.

The gates were open, so you let yourself in, taking a moment to soak in the quiet surroundings. The house had a traditional Korean setup, with a low table outside, a shed of large clay crocks (probably holding kimchi or fermented soybean paste), an outdoor cooking area, and other signs of daily life scattered around.

Then, the front door swung open, and a petite elderly woman stepped onto the porch, dressed in a floral blouse and loose pants. Her silver hair was neatly pinned back, her sharp eyes scanning you before she broke into a warm smile.

“You must be the city girl,” she said, hands on her hips. “Took you long enough.”

You blinked at her bluntness but caught the teasing glint in her eyes. You smiled apologetically. “I know, I’m sorry. Something came up, so I had to delay for a day. Is the room still available?”

“Of course! We don’t get many guests here. Haven’t had a single one this year until you.” She waved you inside. “Come. I don’t usually take in long-term guests, but I liked the way you spoke on the phone. You seemed polite.”

Inside, the house was warm and lived-in, wooden beams stretching across the ceiling. Something was cooking in the kitchen, filling the space with a savory aroma.

“You must be starving. Lunch is almost ready,” she called from the kitchen.

“Thank you. I’ll just grab my things from the car,” you said, pointing toward the door.

She nodded. “Ah, right. Let me help you with that.”

“No, it’s alright—”

“Hannie!” she called out, ignoring you. “Come out and help our guest with her luggage.”

A moment later, a figure appeared at the doorway. Tall, dark soft-looking hair trimmed just above the shoulders framed her delicate features—a straight nose, lips, and sharp, striking eyes with long lashes that would make anyone jealous.

There was something boyish in the way she moved. Her stride was quick and heavy, her clothes were loose and simple. A plaid button-down over a plain white t-shirt,  and pair of dark sweatpants. Not exactly the dainty look you might’ve expected from someone with a face like that, but it suited her.

“Hannie,” the elderly woman called again, motioning to the car outside.

She only hummed in response before stepping down from the porch and heading straight for your trunk. You followed after her, popping the trunk open just as she reached it.

“Thank you,” you said. “I can get the heavier ones,” you offered, out of habit more than anything.

Hannie barely spared you a glance before hauling out your largest suitcase like it weighed nothing. “It’s fine.”

You blinked. Okay, strong girl.

A small duffel bag dangled from her other hand as she turned back toward the house, moving easily despite the weight. You had to admit, you were a little relieved to know there was another girl your age in the house. You’d expected to spend most of your time with elderly folks—nice as they were, they didn’t quite offer the same kind of connection. But with Hannie here, at least you’d have someone to talk to.

Shutting the trunk, you grabbed the rest of your bags and followed her inside.

The first three days passed uneventfully. You quickly became familiar with the routine in the house: the sounds of cooking from the kitchen, the fluttering of old curtains in the breeze, and the occasional gathering of the elderly ladies just outside the gates of the guest house. You had been expecting peace, but this was something else entirely—a rare kind of mundanity, where time seemed to stretch and slow down. You loved it more than you had anticipated.

Hannie, the granddaughter of the house, was always present in some way but never fully there. She rarely spoke, her gaze slipping past you instead of meeting your eyes, and she was gone for long stretches of the day. You sometimes wondered where she went—perhaps to town, perhaps somewhere even quieter than here—but it wasn’t a question you felt the need to ask. It didn’t seem like she would answer, anyway.

When you did cross paths, the interactions were brief. A polite nod from her, a quick greeting from you. Occasionally, you’d catch her in the kitchen, stirring something at the stove, or stepping onto the porch with a towel slung over her shoulder, hair damp from a shower. Once, when you mumbled a sleepy “good morning” while rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you thought you saw the corner of her mouth twitch upward before she disappeared out the door.

You assumed she was just a little shy. Maybe reserved. That was fine with you. It was oddly nice having another girl around who didn’t expect constant conversation.

The guest house owner—Gram, as she liked to be called—was warm and thoughtful, though she saw your lack of movement as odd. She often encouraged you to explore, to go into town, to at least take a walk.

“Most people get restless after a day or two,” she said one morning, watching you sip your tea at the low table outside. “You, though, you act like you’ve been waiting your whole life to sit still.”

You grinned. “Honestly, Gram? I have.”

She clicked her tongue, unconvinced. “Hannie, why don’t you take her into town today? Show her around. The store won’t burn down without you for a day.”

At the mention of her name, Hannie, who had been quietly peeling fruit by the water pump, finally glanced at you. Her expression was unreadable, but her head tilted ever so slightly, as if sizing you up. Then, just as quickly, she shrugged. “Sure.”

It wasn’t exactly an enthusiastic invitation, and you didn’t want to force anything. “Thanks, Gram, but I promise, I’m fine. I’m enjoying myself.”

Gram sighed, shaking her head. “If you say so. But if you change your mind, just tell Han.”

You nodded, and across the table, Hannie met your gaze again, her lips pressing into something like a faint smile before she went back to peeling.

Still, Gram refused to let you be completely idle. Every day, she gave you a small task—flipping sun-dried herbs at noon, covering them before sunset. It wasn’t much, but it made you feel like a part of the household rather than just a passing guest.

Hannie never commented on your meandering presence in the house. Sometimes, she’d walk past you on the way out, sometimes you’d catch sight of her returning in the late afternoon, looking effortlessly graceful yet somehow boyish in the way she moved. 

As the days passed, little things about Hannie started catching your attention—details that didn’t quite match the soft-spoken, delicate image you’d formed of her at first. Her voice, though quiet, had a low, steady timbre. Occasionally, she’d roll her shoulders or rub the back of her neck in a way that felt oddly... rugged. There was something in the way she leaned against doorframes too, hands stuffed in her pockets, with a relaxed posture. And yet, she still looked as graceful as ever, dark hair soft against her skin, her features almost too pretty. 

The contrast was interesting, but you didn’t think much of it—so what if she was a little rough around the edges? Plenty of girls had tomboyish sides.

Strong, you thought idly one afternoon, watching her haul in a sack of something from outside. Strong for someone so pretty.

But you didn’t dwell on it. More than anything, it was just nice having another girl around. She wasn’t unfriendly, but she wasn’t exactly inviting either. It wasn’t awkward, though. If anything, it suited the peacefulness of the guest house. You weren’t looking for company, and Hannie didn’t seem eager to offer it. But of course, living together would make people grow closer.

One morning, you found yourself at the kitchen table, lazily flipping through a magazine Gram had left lying around. Hannie stood by the sink, rinsing a handful of freshly picked persimmons.

“Do you eat these?” she asked.

You looked up. It was the first time she’d spoken to you without it being a response to something you said first. “I like them, but I never really had them fresh like that,” you admitted.

She grabbed a towel and started drying one. “They taste better chilled.”

“Oh?” You watched as she set a few aside and placed the rest in the fridge. “So you like them cold?”

She shrugged, placing one on the table in front of you. “Try it later.”

After that, you noticed other little things.

When you forgot your slippers outside one evening, you found them neatly placed by the door the next morning. The first time you struggled to lift one of Gram’s large water jugs, Hannie walked past, muttered, “You’ll hurt your back,” and hoisted it up with ease before you could protest.

“Thanks,” you said, surprised.

Gradually, your paths started crossing more. If she was already outside when you went to dry the herbs, she’d sit nearby, scrolling through her phone while you worked. If you ended up in the kitchen at the same time, she’d slide you a cup of whatever she was drinking without a word.

The conversations stretched a little longer, too. One weekend morning, you found her on the porch, sitting quietly under the sun. Without thinking, you sat beside her, stretching your legs out and basking in the sunshine.

“Gram says you haven’t gone to the beach yet,” she said.

You raised an eyebrow. “She’s been trying to get me out of the house since day one.”

Hannie smirked slightly, eyes still on the road. “She’s not used to people who like sitting still.”

You laughed. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

You talked about the weather, the best place to buy snacks in town, how the local stray cats had more attitude than city ones. They weren’t deep conversations, but they were comfortable.

Hannie still wasn’t overly talkative, but she started meeting your eyes more, responding with more than just a nod. And sometimes, when she thought you weren’t paying attention, you’d catch a small, amused smile on her lips.

It wasn’t much, but you were getting used to each other.

On a cool Saturday afternoon, you sat cross-legged at the low wooden table outside, with a basket of vegetables sitting between you and Hannie. Gram had roped the both of you into helping with dinner, which, in her words, “would taste better with young hands working on it.”

You didn’t mind. It gave you something to do.

Hannie, across from you, was peeling potatoes efficiently. You, on the other hand, were going slower, carefully stripping the skin from each one with a small knife.

“How long have you been staying here?” you asked.

Hannie didn’t look up from her task. “I live here.”

“Like, since birth?”

“Maybe,” she said, lips twitching.

You gave her a flat look. “That’s not a real answer.”

She considered for a second before finally saying, “I wasn’t born here, but I grew up here. I left a few years ago, but I came back.”

You nodded, filing that away. “Where did you go?”

She flipped a potato in her hand. “Seoul.”

“You lived there?”

“For a bit.”

“You’re very specific,” you said dryly.

She smirked. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“Of course. I have to know who I’m living with.”

“Mm.” She switched to peeling carrots. “Your turn, then. I have to know who I’m living with, too. That’s fair, isn’t it?”

You rolled a potato in your hands. “Depends on the question.”

Hannie shot you an amused glance but didn’t push. “Why’d you come here?”

You shrugged. “I wanted a change of pace.”

She peeled another strip from the carrot. “That’s a vague answer.”

“The specifics are boring,” you said through gritted teeth, unwilling to divulge anything.

She let out a small huff of laughter. “Fair enough.”

For a while, neither of you spoke, just continuing your work. The sun had begun to dip lower in the sky, and you were realizing once again why they called this guest house The Sunset House. The smell of something simmering in the kitchen drifted through the air.

“What do you do all day, anyway?” you asked, breaking the comfortable quiet. “I always see you coming and going, but you never say where you’re headed.”

Hannie hummed. “I go to work at the grocery shop.”

You nodded. “So you’re not just freeloading off your Grandma, then?” you teased.

She snorted. “I have my own money and I know how to work for my meals.”

“Okay, but I have a real question,” you said, squinting at her. “What’s your skincare routine?”

Hannie blinked at you, clearly caught off guard. “My what?”

“You have really nice skin,” you said matter-of-factly. “Like, it’s annoyingly flawless. I need to know what you’re using.”

She chuckled. “I just use whatever’s around.”

You frowned. “Liar.”

“It’s the truth,” she said, looking far too entertained.

“No fancy routine? No expensive products?”

“Nope.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, but she just kept peeling, smug as ever. You huffed. “This is so unfair. Your skin is prettier than mine and I have like, a ten-step skincare routine.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

You grabbed a potato and chucked it at her arm. She caught it easily, shaking her head with a grin.

The conversation continued, flowing from one topic to another with no real direction—just small questions, half-answers, and the occasional amused remark. It wasn’t deep, but it didn’t need to be.

By the time you finished, the basket of peeled vegetables was full, the sun had lowered into a deep orange, and you had learned just enough about Hannie to know there was still more to figure out.

It was hard to ignore the nagging thought in your head ever since you arrived in town. While you tried to brush it off, convincing yourself that you deserved this break from your turbulent city life, the anxiety that you should be doing something more productive lingered in the back of your mind. 

It was probably because your mind and body were so used to being on high alert all the time, functioning at full capacity every day for the last several years that you start getting anxious when you’re not doing anything and just relaxing. You could feel an odd sense of suspicion, nagging at the back of your mind like, “Shouldn’t you be doing something?”

Watering Gram’s garden plants was enough to push away all these thoughts, though.

As you stood under the gentle heat of the morning sun, you maneuvered the hose expertly, a result of doing the chore every day for the last few weeks. You let out a slow breath, feeling oddly content with the simplicity of it.

“Are you planning to drown my plants?”

You startled slightly as Gram’s voice rang out. Turning, you found her watching you with a hand on her hip. “Come here,” she said, beckoning you over to the low wooden table. “I have a better use for those hands.”

You shut off the water and wandered over, only to be greeted with a rice cake shoved into your hand. “Would you like to come to the beach today?” she asked.

“The beach?”

“There’s a new teacher at the daycare center. Seola, a very lovely lady. She arranged a picnic with the elderly and the children.” Gram gave you a pointed look as she patted your hand. “You should come. You need to socialize with someone your age before you forget how to hold a conversation.”

Before you could respond, Hannie stepped out onto the porch in her usual shirt-over-tee combo and denim jeans, brushing her hair back with her hand, she slung a bag over her shoulder, acknowledging you with a brief nod before passing by.

“Gram, I’m off,” he said.

“Alright, see you later,” Gram replied. She waved him off before giving you another look. “Han will be there too, so you don’t have to worry about being around people you don’t know.”

Not that you needed much convincing. You had already planned to explore town today anyway. You finally had enough of the idle days, and you were now ready to see and experience the quaint charm of this small town.

So at noon, just before lunchtime, you drove to the beachside with Gram, the car packed with the food she had heartily prepared all morning.

The beach was lively with old and young voices, laughter, conversation, and the sound of waves rolling against the shore. You helped Gram set up the food, spreading it out on the picnic blankets as she introduced you to the small group already gathered there—a few elderly folks, some parents, and a handful of kids darting around with beach toys and shells. It felt like stepping into a family reunion, where everyone knew each other and shared years of memories you could only imagine.

Gram introduced you as a temporary resident. “She’ll be here for six months,” she explained, smiling as curious eyes turned your way. “Let’s all be nice to her. She’s from the big city.”

“Ah, so that’s why you look so pale,” an older woman teased, squinting at you. “You need some sun on you, dear.”

“She should eat more, too,” another one chimed in, eyeing you like she was already planning to pile food onto your plate.

“You’ll love it here,” one of the older women assured you. “Life moves slow, but there’s always something to do if you know where to look.”

Another joined in with a chuckle. “A bit of gossip now and then, a trip to the market, a walk by the coast… it doesn’t take much to stay busy here!”

They were warm, welcoming, and funny, and their playful remarks had the same lightheartedness as Gram’s. You found yourself smiling more than expected, caught up in their conversation as they asked about your stay. You also met Seola, the new daycare teacher who moved to town just two months ago. She was the same age as you were, and you felt a sense of kinship with her as someone who came from the big city yourself.

At one point, a little boy ran up to you out of nowhere, his face bright with excitement as he held out a shell. “Look! This is the best one I found today!”

You knelt down, taking the shell from his hands to admire it. “Wow, this is a good one,” you said, humoring his enthusiasm. He beamed, launching into a detailed explanation of why it was superior to all the others. You nodded along, half-listening—until something just past his shoulder caught your eye.

Out by the water, Hannie emerged from the waves, hands pushing through his soaked hair, slicking it back from his face. Droplets clung to his skin, sliding down sharp cheekbones and along the lines of his jaw. You blinked, something about the sight snagging on a thought you couldn’t quite place.

Then she stepped fully onto the shore, reached for the hem of her wet shirt, and pulled it over her head. And your mind went blank.

Time seemed to slow as your eyes registered the defined shoulders, the abs, the arms that clearly belonged to someone used to physical labor. The sunlight played across his skin, highlighting every line and shadow. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t speak. All you could do was stare.

Hannie wasn’t just a little masculine. Hannie wasn’t just oddly strong. Hannie… was a man.

Your breath caught in your throat, and an unexpected heat rose to your cheeks. The boy in front of you was still talking, but you couldn’t hear a word of it anymore.

How could you have missed this? It was as if every little sign from the past several days were suddenly lining up like pieces of a puzzle. The deeper voice, the way he carried himself, the fact that he had never once actually referred to himself as a girl. And then there were the times Gram had mentioned her grandson—the one you thought you’d never met, yet had been living with all along. He had never corrected you. And you? You had been so sure—so certain you knew exactly who you were living with.

As you stood there, still absorbing the shock, two teenage girls approached you excitedly.

“What’s it like living with Jeonghan?” one of them asked, practically bouncing on her toes.

“Who?” The name threw you off entirely.

“Yoon Jeonghan,” the other girl chimed in, as if it were obvious. “You’re staying at Gram’s guest house, right? Isn’t he amazing? He’s like the pride of our town.”

Jeonghan. The name sounded foreign to you, yet as you watched him crouch down to help one of the kids collect shells, it suddenly seemed to fit him perfectly. 

“I thought his name was Hannie?” you asked, though the moment the words left your mouth, you realized how foolish they sounded. Hannie—it wasn’t his name. Just a nickname, something his grandmother must have been affectionately calling him.

The girls giggled, exchanging amused glances. “That’s just what the grandmas call him.”

One of them leaned in, lowering her voice like she was sharing a juicy secret. “He’s kind of famous, you know? We run a fan page for him—it’s almost at 100k followers.”

“He gets a ton of idol trainee offers. Some people even come all the way here just to see him,” the other added. “But he always turned them down. Now, he works at the store downtown. Everyone loves him.”

Jeonghan. Jeonghan. Yoon Jeonghan.

You blinked, still grappling with the idea that the quiet, elusive Hannie was actually Jeonghan, the town’s golden boy. Before you could think of what to say, Gram’s voice called out, interrupting the conversation.

“Lunch is ready! Come here and eat!”

The girls scampered off toward the picnic mat, giggling about something you couldn’t quite catch. You turned to follow, but your thoughts were still spinning.

“Kids! Hannie!” Gram called again, waving him over. “Come on, let’s eat!”

Jeonghan straightened, brushing sand from his hands before jogging up the beach. The sunlight glinted off his skin, drawing your gaze before you could stop yourself. Heat crept up your neck again.

He reached the mat and, without hesitation, plopped down next to you, his damp hair falling casually over his shoulder.

“You’re here too,” he said, smiling at you before grabbing a bottle of water. He seemed completely at ease, oblivious to the turmoil running through your mind.

Lunch was a lively affair, the mat spread under the shade of a large tree, bowls and plates of food passed around as conversations overlapped. The elders were particularly chatty, most of their attention—unsurprisingly—focused on Jeonghan.

“You know, our Hannie here was top of his class in university,” one of the grandmothers boasted, nudging the woman beside her. “Always so clever.”

“And so hardworking,” another added, her tone exaggerated in a way that felt suspiciously rehearsed. “Had all sorts of offers after graduation. He even worked in Seoul for a bit.”

“Really?” Seola, the teacher, perked up with interest, chopsticks pausing midair.

You, however, narrowed your eyes slightly. There was something oddly deliberate about how they were talking about him, as if… as if they were trying to sell him.

Jeonghan, sitting beside you, seemed completely unfazed. He took a sip of water, then casually met your gaze. “What are you thinking so hard about?”

You blinked, realizing that you had been staring. “I was just wondering why they’re talking about you like you’re a prized cow.”

Jeonghan nearly choked on his drink, turning away with a cough. Beside him, one of the elders clapped her hands together, unaware of your remark. “And! He’s very good with children,” she announced, nodding toward the group of kids playing nearby. “They all adore him.”

Seola chuckled. “That’s rare. Most guys aren’t patient enough with kids.”

“Exactly!” The older woman beamed. “That’s why any girl would be lucky to have him.”

Your eyes flickered to Jeonghan, curious as to how he’d react, but he was busy picking the green onions out of his soup. As if this whole matchmaking attempt had nothing to do with him.

You stifled a laugh. “You seem very popular, Jeonghan.”

“Mm,” he hummed in agreement, finally looking at you. “Are you convinced?”

“Of what?”

“That I’m a catch.” He tilted his head, the corner of his lips twitching up just slightly.

Your chopsticks hovered over your plate. The way he said it was so casual, but something about his tone—low, smooth, just teasing enough—made your stomach flutter. 

You masked it with an eye-roll. “I don’t know. You don’t seem that impressive to me.”

Gram clicked her tongue, shaking her head as she picked up a piece of grilled fish and placed it onto your plate. “Clearly, you need to spend more time with him.”

“Gram?” you questioned, genuinely perplexed by the insinuation in her tone.

The lunch continued in the same direction, the elders throwing more praises, Seola responding with polite interest, and Jeonghan humoring them without ever actually engaging. It was almost funny how unfazed he was—until you caught a few of the older women exchanging glances as if they were mentally taking notes on how both you and Seola were responding.

Oh god. They weren’t just selling Jeonghan. They were matchmaking him.

You needed some air.

As the meal wrapped up, you slipped away from the group, stepping onto the shore where the waves lapped at your feet. The realization of the past hour was still in your mind—not just about the elders’ intentions but also the fact that your whole perception of Jeonghan had shattered today.

And, of course, just as you were attempting to collect yourself, he appeared beside you. “Escaping?”

You glanced at him. “You too?”

“Sort of.” Jeonghan walked alongside you, hands in his pockets, letting the wind ruffle his damp hair. “Figured you’d need company.”

You hesitated before blurting, “Why didn’t you tell me you were a guy?”

Jeonghan stopped mid-step. “What?”

“The whole time, I thought you were a girl, maybe a little masculine or a lesbian, but biologically, a girl. I’ve been calling you ‘Hannie,’ but that’s not even your real name. Your name was Jeonghan. You never corrected me.”

His expression shifted from confusion to pure shock. “Wait.” He turned fully to you, blinking rapidly. “You thought I was a girl?!”

You crossed your arms. “You’re really pretty with equally pretty hair. Your grandma calls you Hannie.”

Jeonghan ran a hand down his face, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “Oh my god.”

“I mean, can you blame me?” You gestured vaguely at him. “Look at you.”

His mouth opened, then closed. He looked down at himself as if seeing what you saw. Then he exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

You smirked. “I think it’s kind of funny.”

Jeonghan shot you a look, smirking. “I bet you do.”

You basked in the comfortable silence as you continued walking. The waves were cool against your feet, and the voices behind you grew distant. Every now and then, you caught Jeonghan glancing at you, as if still processing what you had just confessed.

Finally, he sighed, shaking his head. “A girl.”

You grinned. “I’d say I’m sorry, but…”

“But you’re not.”

“Not even a little bit.”

Jeonghan let out a sharp laugh, the kind that came from deep amusement rather than disbelief this time. You got the feeling he wouldn’t let this go anytime soon.

The next morning, Jeonghan was heading downtown for an errand, and Gram suggested you go with him. “You should get out more,” she said, nudging your arm. “Let Han show you around. It’ll be good for you.”

You didn’t see a reason to refuse. The town was still unfamiliar, and a trip to the market sounded more productive than another slow morning at the guest house. Plus, you figured you might as well start your car after letting it sit idle for so long.

Which was how you found yourself in the passenger seat, watching as Jeonghan adjusted the mirrors before smoothly pulling out onto the road. He drove leisurely, one hand resting on the wheel, his other elbow propped against the window.

By the time you reached the market, the streets were busy. Stalls lined the sidewalks, vendors calling out to passersby, with the scent of fresh produce, grilled food, and sweet treats. Jeonghan was greeted warmly at every turn, engaging small talks with vendors who seemed genuinely happy to see him. He was polite, smiling when an elderly woman at a vegetable stand patted his arm and called him “our handsome Jeonghan.”

Then she turned to you. “And who is this?” she asked with a teasing smile. “Have you finally brought a girlfriend home, Hannie?”

Before you could react, Jeonghan laughed. “She’s not, but she wished she was.”

“No, I don’t!” you exclaimed.

“No need to be shy, dear,” the vendor said, grinning. “If I were a few decades younger, I’d wish I was his girlfriend too.”

You groaned while Jeonghan bit back a laugh, handing over the money before gently steering you away.

“I can’t believe you have fans in every age group,” you scoffed.

“Well, it’s a small town,” he replied, chuckling.

After finishing the errand, Jeonghan led you to a small café tucked between two shops. The place had a cozy charm—wooden tables, hanging plants, and an old vinyl player in the corner playing soft jazz.

A man behind the counter beamed when she saw him. “Jeonghan! It’s been a while.”

“Hi, Joon. I’ll have the usual,” he greeted, then turned to you. “You?”

You looked up at the menu hanging overhead, wondering what to order or if you wanted coffee at all.

Joon’s gaze flicked to you. “This must be the pretty guest Gram was talking about.”

You glanced at him, curious. Jeonghan waved a hand. “Yeah. She doesn’t get out much. I’m showing her around town.”

“You should come more often. We make the best coffee in town,” Joon said proudly. “Not that there are any other coffee shops around,” he added, chuckling. “What can I get you?”

“Uh, I’ll have what he’s having,” you said, smiling politely at him.

“Coming right up!”

Jeonghan led you to a vacant table by the window. “You come here often?” you asked.

“Now and then.” He pulled out a chair and sat across from you, resting his forearm against the table. “The owner, Joon’s mom, used to sneak me free pastries when I was a kid. I feel obligated to keep giving her business.”

Your lips quirked up. “Bribed into loyalty. Classic.”

He just laughed, watching you for a moment before asking, “What do you think of the town so far?”

You thought about it and then shrugged. “It’s charming and peaceful. Everyone seems to know each other. It’s kind of nice.”

He hummed, stirring his drink lazily. “It has its charms.”

“Well, they seem to adore you,” you noted.

He shrugged. “I’m very likeable,” he said smugly, making you laugh.

Minutes later, Joon set two iced drinks on your table before slipping away. You took a sip and raised a brow. “Oh, this is sweet. Vanilla latte?”

Jeonghan nodded. “Decaf. You don’t like sweet?”

“I do,” you admitted. “But I didn’t peg you as the type.”

Jeonghan took a sip of his own drink. “And what type did you peg me as?”

You tilted your head, pretending to analyze him. “Black coffee. No sugar. Maybe a shot of espresso if you’re feeling adventurous.”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “Do I look like I hate myself?”

You laughed. “No, but,” you shrugged, making him smirk.

“I’ll have you know I like nice things. Why would I suffer through bitter coffee when I could enjoy this?” He lifted his drink in emphasis.

You smirked. “So you have a sweet tooth.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Do you care what about I think of you?” you asked back, narrowing your eyes playfully.

Jeonghan just took his drink and looked out of the window, ignoring your question entirely. You didn’t press, enjoying the coffee instead and the nice ambience of the cafe.

Before heading home, Jeonghan made one last stop at the grocery store. It was bigger than you expected, with stocked shelves and a steady flow of customers.

“You work here?” you asked as you followed him inside.

He nodded. “I own it. Well, not really. It was my grandpa’s. After he passed, someone had to take over.”

Something about the way he said it made you pause. “Is that why you came back?”

Jeonghan didn’t answer right away. He picked up a basket, taking his time as he strolled past the produce section. “You could say that,” he said eventually. “I came back because Gram would be lonely by herself. She’s old now, someone has to be here and make sure she’s alright.”

You glanced at him, noting how his expression didn’t change, but something about his voice softened.

“She still works at the pear farm,” he added, shaking his head fondly. “She said she’d go crazy if she had nothing to do, so someone has to be around to make sure she doesn’t overdo it.”

Hearing that made you feel like you understood them both a little more. The quiet life they had here, the small routines that kept them moving forward—it all made sense now. You became more curious about them, but you didn’t want to pry, so instead of asking, you just took what he told you and left it at that.

As you trailed behind him, your gaze landed on the skincare aisle. “Alright, spill. Which one is it?”

Jeonghan followed your line of sight, then let out a dramatic sigh. “Are you still on this?”

“You’re ridiculously pretty,” you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s only fair that I find out how.”

He gave you an unimpressed look, then reached out, grabbed a random product, and handed it to you. “Here.”

You examined the label. “This is a body wash.”

“Exactly.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re lying.”

He smirked. “You’ll never know.”

“And if I sneak into your bathroom later?”

He stuck his tongue in his cheek, then smirked before saying, “I guess I'll see you there, then. I take really long showers at night, you see.”

You blinked rapidly, surprised at the sudden turn of the conversation. Clearing your throat, you put the bottle back and turned away. “Fine. Keep your secrets.”

The days that followed were more eventful than the previous ones. You still helped Gram around the guesthouse, still found time to sit outside with her in the afternoons, listening to the occasional stories she decided to share. But now, there was something different about your days—Jeonghan.

He wasn’t just around anymore. He was in your space, in your routine, slipping into your life as if he had always been there. Like how he took it upon himself to be your unofficial tour guide, showing up outside the guesthouse just as you were about to head out.

“Where are you going?” he’d ask.

“I’m not sure, but I’m going around town again today,” you’d say, tossing your bag over your shoulder.

His eyes would glint with amusement. “You’ll get lost.”

“No, I won’t.”

But you always did. Turning one too many corners in the winding streets, ending up somewhere you hadn’t planned. And somehow, Jeonghan was always there, lounging by a store or leaning against a wall like he’d been waiting for you the whole time.

“You have a terrible sense of direction,” he’d say, grinning.

“And you have too much free time,” you’d shoot back, but you never minded when he fell into step beside you.

He took you everywhere. To the best lookout point in town, where the cliffs met the endless blue of the sea. To the hills, where wildflowers bloomed in untamed clusters, swaying lazily under the afternoon sun. To the pear farm, where you met Gram’s friends—hardworking women who took one look at you and started teasing.

“She’s the one staying at the guesthouse?” one of them asked Jeonghan, squinting at you. “You’re showing her around, aren’t you?”

“Something like that,” Jeonghan replied, glancing your way with a smirk.

“Ah, what a handsome pair,” the woman sighed dramatically. “You look great together. You’d make the most beautiful babies.”

You choked on your own breath while Jeonghan just laughed, handing you a pear like nothing happened.

There was also the day he dragged you onto a boat. It wasn’t planned. You had only gone to the dock to look around, but Jeonghan had other ideas.

“Ever been boating?” he asked.

You eyed him warily. “No.”

“Great.” That was your only warning before he pulled you toward a small boat, casually untying it from the dock.

“Wait—what if I get seasick?” you protested.

“You won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“We’ll find out when we get there,” he chuckled, offering a hand to help you board the boat.

You hesitated, but you took his hand anyway. He had never done anything to disappoint you so far, so you trusted him. And despite your initial wariness, you had to admit—it was nice. The air was crisp, the water was calm, the reefs below were beautiful, and the silence between you was comforting.

At one point, Jeonghan leaned back against the edge, stretching his arms. “You like it here, don’t you?”

You glanced at him. “I do.”

He smirked. “I’d bet fifty bucks you never leave.”

You scoffed. “Never leaving is a stretch. Maybe I’d never want to, but I will anyway because I have to.”

Jeonghan flashed a mischievous smile as if you had just challenged him. “A hundred, then. You will never want to leave, and you never will.”

You rolled your eyes. “Now you’re making me want to leave just so I can take your money.”

“Are you gonna play or not?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I don’t need it.”

Jeonghan sighed nonchalantly. “Fine. But I know I’m right.”

You weren’t sure when it happened, but somewhere between stolen pears and getting lost in town, between late afternoon coffees and spontaneous boat rides, you had started to enjoy his company. And maybe he had started to enjoy yours, too.

That afternoon, as you and Jeonghan strolled back home, he glanced at you and asked, “You free tonight?”

You arched a brow. “Why?”

“It’s Joon’s birthday,” he said. “He’s having a small party at the café. Just us and some friends. He invited you too.”

You hesitated. “He did?”

Jeonghan smirked. “He mentioned it the other day. You probably forgot.”

You did remember Joon casually saying something about it, but you hadn’t thought much of it at the time. A small celebration at the café didn’t sound bad, and truthfully, you weren’t opposed to seeing other people your age, too. Most of the people you’d seen around were old enough to be your grandparents.

“Alright,” you said. “I’ll come.”

“Good. We can go together.”

Later that evening, you followed Jeonghan to the café, which was livelier than usual. Warm lights glowed from the ceilings, the scent of coffee still permeating the air though none of it was being served now. All you could see on the table were bottles of soju and beer, spicy and fried food, and a cake sitting at the center.

The small space had been rearranged to fit a gathering, with a handful of tables pushed together. A few people were already there, chatting, laughing, clinking glasses. Most of them seemed around your age, and it didn’t take long to notice that many of them were couples.

“Jeonghannie hyung!” Joon’s voice rang out the moment you stepped inside. He grinned, wiping his hands on a towel before pulling him into a quick hug. Then he turned to you. “And look who actually came. Finally.”

You scoffed. “Happy birthday, Joon. And I do go outside, you know.”

“Only because Jeonghan drags you everywhere,” he teased, earning a snicker from Jeonghan himself. “Come in. Let me introduce you.”

You met a few of Jeonghan’s friends. You barely remembered their names, but it didn’t take long to notice that most of them had grown up together—and many had ended up marrying each other. Seola was also there, curled up beside a guy, her arm draped lazily over his.

“You made it,” she said, smiling when she saw you.

“I did.” You nodded toward the guy beside her. “Boyfriend?”

She nodded. “I’m glad you came,” she said. “Joon said he invited you, but I wasn’t sure if you’d actually show.”

You shrugged. “Figured I should experience the town’s nightlife at least once.”

Seola laughed. “This is about as lively as it gets.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “So, you and Jeonghan, huh?”

You rolled your eyes. “Not this again.”

“What? You don’t like him?”

“He’s fine, but he annoys me a lot.”

She laughed. “That’s how you know he likes you.”

Before you could protest, Joon clapped his hands together. “Alright, drinks are on me tonight. Eat, drink, have fun!”

“Happy birthday, Joon!”

The evening unraveled in a blur. There was food, laughter, and lots of conversation. At some point, someone turned on music, and people started to sway along. Jeonghan stuck to your side for most of the night, occasionally teasing you, occasionally offering you bites of his cake as if you didn’t have your own. You didn’t realize how late it had gotten until a few guests started nodding off in their seats, the conversations had grown louder, and the laughter became more unrestrained over the clinking of bottles and half-finished drinks.

Joon was already passed out on the table by the time you and Jeonghan decided to leave. His friends—still rowdy despite the late hour—bid you both a noisy farewell, slurring words and waving exaggeratedly as they walked you out the café doors.

The night air greeted you like a sigh of relief, cool against your warmed skin. You stretched your arms above your head, exhaling contentedly. “It’s nice out.”

Jeonghan hummed in agreement, stuffing his hands into his pockets as the two of you strolled down the quiet village road. “Yeah. I should thank you for coming tonight. Because of you, I wasn’t assigned to take care of Joon. He gets drunk so quickly and I have to clean up after him most of the time.”

You laughed, tilting your head toward him. “You’re welcome? I guess? I thought he could hold his liquor because he kept insisting he could outdrink everyone.”

“Well, he’s also the best liar among all of my friends too, so…” he replied, making you chuckle. The alcohol had settled pleasantly in your system, making it easy to laugh at whatever nonsense he spewed.

“You held your liquor pretty well,” he remarked, side-eyeing you with a smirk.

You grinned. “I have a high tolerance.”

“Almost as high as mine.”

“Almost?” You scoffed. “I was drinking at your pace all night, and I’m still standing. Do you see me stumbling into ditches or tripping over my own feet?”

Jeonghan smirked, challenging. “Well, not yet.”

You gasped, feigning offence. Eager to prove him wrong, you stepped ahead, turning to walk backward easily. Arms spread wide, you gave him a smug grin. “Look at that. Not tripping.”

That made him laugh and shake his head fondly as he beckoned you back to his side. “Alright, fine. You can walk.”

“I’m not even drunk at all,” you said, falling into step beside him.

“Yeah? How’s your balance?” he asked just before bumping his shoulder into yours, playful, teasing.

You almost tripped over yourself, but regained your balance in time. Scoffing, you nudged him back. He nudged harder, almost making you lose your footing again. Huffing, you shoved him, but he didn’t budge. Before you could react, Jeonghan caught you by the shoulders, pulling you flush against him. 

The sudden closeness sent a jolt through you—not from surprise, but from the unmistakable heat of his body against yours.

And you didn’t pull away.

Maybe it was the alcohol making you more uninhibited, or maybe you simply wanted this too. You weren’t sure, but you didn’t want to think about it too much.

Neither of you spoke,as you both continued walking. His hands remained firm on your shoulders, like it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. And you basked in the warmth of it, not even noticing that you were gradually leaning closer against him.

But then a sharp bark split through the silence, making you flinch and pull away from him. A dog stood behind a fence nearby, watching you both with wary eyes, still growling slightly. You held your breath, staring back at it. Then it barked once more, and you squealed.

“Run,” said Jeonghan, but you were already bolting.

The two of you raced through the empty streets, feet pounding against the road, breathless laughter echoing into the night. He nearly overtook you, but you darted ahead at the last second, reaching the guesthouse gate just before he did.

Panting, you turned to gloat—only to freeze when you realized how close he had stopped. Face-to-face, no, face-to-chest with Jeonghan, who was also catching his breath. You stood there, chest rising and falling, staring at each other in the dim glow of the streetlamp. 

He looked ethereal under the yellow light, his hair slightly tousled from the wind, his lips parted as he exhaled. There was something almost dreamlike about the way he gazed at you, his eyes dark and unreadable, as if he were seeing something in you he hadn’t before.

The cool night air did nothing to ease the heat creeping up your skin. You were still drunk, or maybe just lightheaded from the run, but it was hard to focus on anything except how close he was—how easily he could reach for you if he wanted to.

“You’re staring,” he murmured.

Maybe you were. But you were also a little drunk. And he was very, very handsome.

So you said it. “You’re so handsome.”

This wasn’t the first time you’d told him that, but this time, he didn’t laugh like he usually did. Instead, he stared at you with a soft expression on his face. Then, slowly, his eyes dipped lower, stopping on your lips. You did the same, your eyes landing on his plump lips, so pretty, so inviting.

For the first time, the thought crossed your mind.

What would it feel like to kiss him?

Would he be slow about it, teasing? Would he pull you in lazily, like it wasn’t anything special? Or would it be something else—something that would leave you breathless and light-headed?

“We should get inside,” he said, eyes still fixed on your lips.

You nodded. But neither of you moved. He didn’t touch you, but you felt it anyway—the intensity of his gaze, the way he stared at your lips.

Would he kiss you if you leaned in first? The thought was dangerous. But you couldn’t help it, not when he looked at you like that, like he was thinking the same thing.

Jeonghan exhaled deeply, like he had just come to a decision. He took a slow step toward you to close the distance and your entire body awoke with anticipation. Just as he was about to reach for your face, the gate rattled loudly.

Both of you jumped as it swung open, revealing a very awake, very confused Gram. “What are you two doing standing there?” she asked, peering at you both suspiciously.

Jeonghan, ever the smooth talker, recovered first. “We were just about to go inside, Gram.”

Gram squinted at him before clicking her tongue. “If you’re gonna flirt with our guest, at least do it inside where it’s warm.”

Your face heated instantly. “We weren’t—”

“Mm-hmm,” she cut you off, unimpressed. “Come on in, it’s late.”

She turned, leaving the gate open for you to follow. You swallowed, glancing back at Jeonghan who was watching you with a knowing glint in his eyes. Then, with a slight smirk, he gestured toward the door.

“After you,” he murmured.

You weren’t entirely sure what had just happened between you. But you had a feeling it wasn’t nothing.

You had barely finished setting down Gram’s breakfast tray when she sighed and pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “I swear, I feel fine,” she insisted, but the slight rasp in her voice and the warm touch of her skin told a different story.

“Gram, you have a fever.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “A slight fever never kills anyone.”

“Should I take you to a clinic?” you asked, but she shook her head.

“No need. I just need some rest,” she said, patting your hand. At that moment, Gram’s friends arrived with hearty chatter and warm smiles.

“How are you feeling?” one of them asked, squinting at Gram sprawled on the couch.

“I’m fine, but I’m worried about Hannie. He’s at the farm handling the inventory today, but it’s too much for one person,” Gram said, sighing almost too dramatically.

“Oh no, the poor boy,” said another who turned to you with a suspicious grin on her lips. “You should go help him.”

Another grandma agreed. “Oh, my. Yes, dear. You should.”

You hesitated. “I don’t wanna leave Gram alone—”

“She won’t be alone. We’re here,” said another, already nudging you out of the way.

“Go on, dear. Fret not.  We’ll take care of her. We’ll make her soup.”

“She’ll be fine. You think we don’t know how to take care of one of our own?”

You hesitated, looking back at Gram, but she only chuckled weakly. “Go on. You’ll be more useful there than fussing over me.”

So you went. Jeonghan looked genuinely surprised when you arrived at the farm. He was sitting on a crate with a clipboard in one hand and a pen on the other. He took one look at you and cocked his head.

“Hi. What are you doing here? How’s Gram?”

“She’s fine her friends came over. She sent me here to help,” you said, brushing past him. “Said you had too much to do alone.”

Jeonghan snorted. “Did she now?” He leaned back, arms crossed. “Was it her or the other women?”

You frowned. “Um, all of them? Why does it matter?”

He smirked. “You’ve been tricked.”

“Tricked?”

“They’ve been trying to marry me off for years. This is exactly the kind of thing they’d do. Trick a poor, unsuspecting woman into spending time alone with me."

“Excuse me?” You blinked, thrown off. “And you just… let them?”

“They mean well. Just desperate to see me settled. Been at it for about four years now. And there’s not much I can do.” He shrugged, tapping the pen against the clipboard. “Besides, it doesn’t happen often. There aren’t that many women around my age who are still single. So when someone new shows up, they start getting ideas. Poor Seola kept getting baited on her first week here.”

That sent a rush of heat up your neck. You looked away, pretending to inspect the baskets of pears stacked nearby. “Well, sorry to disappoint them, but I’m only here to help.”

“Right,” he said, his voice laced with something teasing. “Strictly business.”

You nodded, clearing your throat. “Strictly business.”

“You’re not here thinking about how you almost kissed me a few nights ago.”

“Excuse me?” you gasped, indignant. You pointed a finger at him. “You almost kissed—” then pointed the finger at your chest— “me. Get your facts straight!”

Jeonghan chuckled but didn’t push it further. Instead, he handed you a clipboard and gestured toward the stacks of wooden crates. “If you insist on helping, you can double-check these counts while I finish up the rest.”

You huffed but took the clipboard anyway, moving toward the crates while he returned to his own work. The quiet stretched between you—not uncomfortable, but filled with a hyper-awareness that had been there for days now, ever since that one drunken moment outside the guest house.

You focused on counting and scribbling notes, but every so often, you caught glimpses of Jeonghan moving nearby. He worked with efficiency, sleeves rolled up, hands deftly sorting through the inventory. The sunlight filtering through the trees left patterns over his skin, making him look almost too picturesque for a man just organizing pears.

At one point, you were so absorbed in pretending not to be aware of him that you lost your footing, nearly stumbling over a crate. Jeonghan glanced up from where he was standing, just as you had steadied yourself.

“Careful,” he said, smirking. “Wouldn’t want Gram’s ‘strictly business’ helper to break something.”

You shot him a glare. “I tripped over a crate. Nothing to break here.”

He smirked. “Still, I’d be devastated if you got hurt on my watch. What would the old ladies say? Probably accuse me of mistreating my future wife.”

You groaned. “Can you not bringing that up?”

“Why? Does it bother you?”

Yes. Maybe. A little. You weren’t sure. But instead of answering, you tossed a pear at him. He caught it effortlessly, turning it over in his hand.

“You’re very defensive,” he mused, biting into the pear.

“And you’re very annoying,” you shot back, before returning to your clipboard.

The work continued. He teased you every  now and then and you’d retort but mostly tried to drown him out. By the time you finished your part of the task, you felt the kind of exhaustion that wasn’t just physical.

Jeonghan stretched, rolling out his shoulders. “I think that’s good for today.”

“Great,” you said, setting down your clipboard. “Then I’ll—”

Before you could finish, rain started falling. It was so sudden that you both stood there for a second, blinking up at the sky as the cool droplets hit your skin. Soon, you realized it wasn’t stopping, and Jeonghan nudged your arm.

“Run to the warehouse,” he said, pointing to the warehouse which looked so far away. “Go,” he repeated, and you started running.

You reached it in no time, but not without getting soaked. Inside, the space was dry, the scent of cardboard boxes and ripened pears filling the air. You wrapped your arms around yourself, shaking off the water clinging to your skin. Jeonghan leaned against the doorway, watching the rain with furrowed brows.

He glanced at you a few moments later. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied, rubbing your arms. “The weather was so nice today. I didn’t think it would rain.”

“Well, the weather likes to be unpredictable sometimes,” he said, gaze drifting over you before he reached for something on a nearby shelf—a folded blanket. He tossed it over your shoulders without a word.

You blinked. “Where did that come from?”

“Emergency stash,” he said simply. “Most of the workers here are old women. They prepare for anything and everything.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, pulling it tighter around yourself.

Jeonghan just hummed, still watching the rain. And for a while, neither of you spoke. The world outside was misty and gray, but in here, it was warm and quiet. The warehouse was fairly large, but the space between you felt small. And it may be because the place was packed with endless crates of pears and shelves of pear products.

You weren’t sure how long you stood like that before he turned toward you fully, head tilting slightly as he studied you.

“You really don’t mind being here, do you?” he mused.

You frowned. “Well, I didn’t but if I had known it would rain, I wouldn’t have come up here at all.”

He chuckled. “No, I meant in this town. At the guesthouse. Helping out on some pear farm.”

You thought about it, about the slow mornings, the sense of peace you’d been trying to chase, the way you’d felt so much more at ease these days.

“I don’t mind,” you admitted, leaning back against the wall. “It’s… nice. No deadlines to chase. No stuck-up superiors breathing down my neck. No endless stack of workload to bury my face in.” You sighed in relief, smiling absentmindedly. “It’s really nice.”

“What happened?” he asked, joining you in your corner. “Back in the city?”

“It’s nothing,” you shrugged. “I’m just taking a break from corporate life.”

“I see,” he replied, unconvinced but knew better than press for answers you weren’t ready to share.

The rain was coming down harder now, drumming against the roof of the warehouse and soaking the ground outside. You could hear the soft trickle of water running off the edges of the roof, pooling into the dirt. The crates of pears sat forgotten outside, and you wondered if they’d be fine, though seeing Jeonghan not worrying about it made you assume they would be.

You noticed how Jeonghan shivered slightly, damp clothes clinging to his skin. “Cold?” you asked.

He shook his head, but you could tell he was lying. You scooted closer to him and draped the blanket over his shoulder, too. It was then that you realized that it was a small blanket, just enough to wrap around you but too small for the two of you.

Jeonghan chuckled. “Thanks, but I don’t think this is helping.”

“Right?” you replied, chuckling.

He shifted slightly, lifting one arm and draping it over your shoulder. You hesitated at first, but you let him pull you closer, letting the warmth of his body seep into yours. He rubbed your arm with his hand, squeezing gently in an attempt to fight the cold against your skin. It worked, though not well enough.

“How long do you think this rain will last?” you asked, slowly leaning against his chest.

Jeonghan hummed, and you felt his chest vibrate. “Not too long, I think. An hour at most. Maybe half.”

“My car is just below the hill. I should have driven it all the way up here,” you sighed, closing your eyes.

“You didn’t know this would happen,” he said, rubbing your shoulder. “Did you see my pickup down there? I didn’t drive up, too.”

You chuckled, pulling away to look at him. You were gonna say something, but the way he was looking at you made you hold your breath.

His gaze was steady, searching, as if something was fascinating about your face. He didn’t move, didn’t say anything. He just looked, and something about it sent a slow, burning heat in your chest. Your gaze drifted lower. His lips were slightly parted, and you knew—just as you had known that night outside the guesthouse—that this was going to happen.

You weren’t sure who moved first. One moment, there was space between you; the next, Jeonghan was leaning in, and your fingers had curled against the fabric of his shirt. His lips met yours. A slow, quick peck. Barely a kiss at all—just a taste. But then you exhaled, and he was kissing you again, properly this time.

Soft and lingering like he was savoring the moment, like he had thought about it and now that it was happening, he didn’t want to rush. His lips were warm, even with the cold outside. You responded without thinking, tilting your head, pressing closer. Your fingers tightened in his shirt. He hummed against your lips, low and pleased, his other hand finding the small of your back and pressing you closer. The blanket slipped from your shoulders, but you barely noticed.

Jeonghan angled his head, his hand sliding up to your jaw, thumb stroking just under your ear. His tongue brushed against yours, coaxing you into parting for him. A quiet sound escaped you, something between a sigh and a gasp, and that was all it took for him to press you back against wall, his body flush against yours.

The heat between you burned hotter than the cold rain. His hands roamed, brushing over the curve of your hips, slipping under the hem of your shirt to find the warmth of your skin. You gasped against his mouth at the sensation, fingers tightening in his shirt.

He took that as encouragement. His lips left yours only to trail lower, to your jaw, and down to your neck. You shivered—not from the cold, but from the way he touched you. Your own hands moved, pushing beneath his damp shirt, palms pressing against his stomach. He let out a quiet, surprised laugh before he kissed you again, deeper, hungrier.

The rain outside blurred into nothing. It was just him. His lips, his hands, the heat of him against you. But then, he stopped, pulling away just enough to look at you. His fingers flexed against your waist, as if holding himself back. 

He pressed his forehead against yours, exhaling sharply as he asked, “Is this okay?”

The words sent a jolt through you, cutting through the haze of heat and desire clouding your thoughts. Your pulse pounded in your ears, and for the first time since kissing him, you could hear the rain again—the steady downpour, the distant rumble of thunder.

Reality came crashing in, making you pull back slightly with a shaky breath. Your hands gripping his shirt loosened. His gaze searched yours, unreadable but patient. He was waiting.

“I…” You swallowed, looking away. “We shouldn’t.”

There was a second of silence, Jeonghan’s hand leaving your waist and reaching up to tuck stray strands of hair behind your ear. Then he planted a soft kiss on your forehead and said, “Okay.”

You weren’t sure if the cold you felt now was from the rain or from something else entirely. But it was gone as soon as he pulled you into a hug.

“But we can do this, right?”

You chuckled lightly, closing your eyes and basking in his warmth. “Yeah,” you replied, wrapping your arms around him too. “Yeah, we can.”

You tossed and turned all night, replaying every moment at the warehouse. The way his lips felt against yours, the way he touched you with veneration, the addicting heat that had consumed you. All of it.

It was just the heat of the moment, you told yourself. Just a fleeting lapse of judgment, nothing more. But the longer you lay there, the more you realized you were lying.

You wanted it. You liked it. And you liked Jeonghan.

It wasn’t just your imagination. You didn’t imagine the way your heart raced when he kissed you. You didn’t imagine the sparks of pleasure dancing on your skin when he touched you. You didn’t imagine the way you melted in his arms when he held you close until the rain stopped.

You were still trying to come to terms with it when you heard faint voices outside. Curious, you pushed yourself up and peered through the window.

Outside, it was the early hours of dawn. In the dim dawn light, Jeonghan stood with Gram by the shed, lifting the lids off large clay crocks. Even though you couldn’t hear them, it wasn’t hard to guess what they were doing—Gram was transferring kimchi into a large container, with Jeonghan helping her.

As if sensing your gaze, he suddenly glanced up and caught you watching. You froze when his gaze met yours. But Jeonghan just smiled and raised a hand in a lazy wave, which you returned sheepishly.

Then he sent kisses your way, gestured that it was still too early, and mouthed that you should go back to sleep. Clearly, he had no idea you hadn’t slept a wink yet.

You huffed but nodded anyway, and just as you pulled back from the window, you heard Gram say something. Jeonghan turned to her, his head tilting in mock innocence, and you could imagine her scolding him for slacking off. Smiling to yourself, you shut your window and crawled back into bed.

As expected, you woke up late the next morning. It was almost noon, but it was the weekend, so you knew Jeonghan and Gram would be home all day. But he was nowhere to be seen.

Gram told you over lunch that he had gone to the city to visit his parents. You only nodded in response, pretending it didn’t affect you. But as the day stretched on, you found yourself missing him.

Which was stupid.

He was just a guy—a good-looking guy, yes, but that didn’t mean anything. Good-looking guys had a way of making you think you liked them when you really didn’t. Besides, liking Jeonghan wasn’t part of the plan. You had come here for peace and quiet—to breathe and to heal, not to get swept up in whatever this was.

So you spent the day distracting yourself—helping Gram in the kitchen, reading in the shade, taking a walk along the shore. Anything to push thoughts of him away. The more you did, the more you convinced yourself that you didn’t like him that much.

You weren’t that attached to him. You didn’t care that he wasn’t around, didn’t notice the way the day felt quieter without him. You weren’t thinking about the way he always leaned too close when he talked or how he made even the dullest moments entertaining.

Would he be back today? Tomorrow? Would he have texted you if you had exchanged numbers?

Stop it. This wasn’t you. You didn’t get flustered over a guy. You didn’t sit around waiting like some lovesick idiot. You were better than this.

You were fine. Your thoughts kept circling back to him, but you were fine. You just needed to reset. Get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, you’d be back to normal.

So you sat outside on the porch after dinner, telling yourself you weren’t waiting for him. You were just enjoying the evening air after a hearty meal. You weren’t glancing at the road every few minutes. You weren’t hoping he’d arrive before you ran out of reasons to stay outside.

Then, as if answering an unspoken wish, Jeonghan’s pickup came rolling into view, kicking up dust along the quiet road. The second you saw it, the day seemed brighter, and your heart felt lighter, warmer.

Oh. 

So this was it. This was what it felt like to really like someone.

Jeonghan parked his truck and hopped out, already smiling from ear to ear as he walked over to where you were sitting on the porch. “Waiting for me?” he asked, opening his arms as if he was waiting for you to jump into them.

You scoffed, crossing your arms defensively. “No. I’m just getting some air.”

Jeonghan raised his brows. “You could’ve just lied and said you were. You’re hurting my feelings here.”

“I— what?”

He sighed, pouting. “I’m hurt because you’d been on my mind all day, and I couldn’t wait to come home and see you again.”

You blinked, suddenly feeling too warm despite the cool night air. The way he said it so smoothly, so easily, like it was just a simple fact, left you scrambling for a response. But nothing came.

Neither of you spoke.

Instead, you just stood there, staring at each other in the warm porch light. He didn’t even try to laugh it off or take it back so your heart thudded a little harder, unsure what to make of this.

Then, the front door creaked open, and Gram stepped out. “Hannie, you’re back so soon,” she greeted, eyeing him up and down. “Have you had dinner yet?”

“I did,” he answered, stepping back slightly. “I picked up something to eat on my way here.”

Gram huffed. “You should get some rest, then. You must be tired. Why didn’t you just spend the night at your parents’ house? Driving back and forth like that—” She gave him a knowing look, voice lilting with mischief. “It almost seems like you were excited to come home for some reason.”

You caught the implication immediately. Jeonghan did too, if the way he smirked was any indication.

“You’re right, Gram,” he said without missing a beat. Then, with a glance at you, he added, “Actually, I was wondering if I could take the reason out for a stroll.”

Gram barely spared him a glance as she waved a hand dismissively. “Do whatever you want.” She turned back toward the house, muttering, “Young people these days. So forward. Too liberated.”

And just like that, she was gone. You, however, were still standing there, completely dumbfounded.

You turned to Jeonghan, who was watching you with an all-too-pleased expression. He tilted his head toward the road.

“So? You coming?”

You walked in silence for the first few minutes. You were expecting Jeonghan to start the conversation because, obviously, he should be the one making conversation. There were plenty of things he could start with, like clarifying what he meant when he implied that you were the reason he chose to come home right away despite the long drive.

“Don’t you have anything to say to me?” he finally asked, leaning down slightly to peek at your face.

You turned away. “No. What would I even say to you?”

Jeonghan straightened up, huffing. “I practically spelled it out for you, and you have nothing to say?”

You stopped in your tracks, exhaling sharply as you ran a hand over your nape. “Okay, what the hell is this? How about communicating clearly and more openly like grown adults  instead of whatever this is?”

Jeonghan turned fully to face you. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was light when he said, “I like you.”

For a second, your mind went completely blank. You opened your mouth, then closed it, then let out a breath. “Are you sure?”

His brows furrowed. “What kind of question is that?”

“I mean—” You gestured vaguely. “It’s not just because of yesterday? Maybe it’s a momentary lapse of judgment. We kissed, and there was…” You hesitated to say it. “...a moment, and now you think you like me because of it.”

Jeonghan tilted his head, then asked, “Are you drunk?”

“No.” You shot him a look. “Jeonghan, I’m serious.”

He chuckled, but when he spoke again, he was serious. “No, it’s not just because of yesterday. I don’t pull something like that on just anyone. I’ve liked you for a while now.”

“Why?”

He grimaced, like he couldn’t believe you had to ask. “What do you mean why? Because I do. You’re pretty and nice. You’re smart. You’re good with kids, good with elders.” His voice was steady, without hesitation. “I’m not in love with you or anything. Not yet, at least. I just think you’re… amazing. And honestly, I wasn’t planning to act on it.”

You frowned. “Then why are you?”

“Because,” he said, watching you closely, “I think you like me too.”

Your pulse quickened. “No, I don’t,” you lied, shamelessly.

Jeonghan’s was menacingly confident. “Yes, you do.”

You rolled your eyes and walked ahead, heading straight for the beach. He followed closely behind, undeterred. “Come on, I’m being honest here.”

“Well, what do you want me to do about that?” you asked, not even glancing back.

“Nothing. Just—” He caught up to you and slipped his hand into yours. “At least tell me you heard what I said.”

“I did.”

“So? What do you think?”

You sighed, pulling your hand back. “I haven’t thought about it yet.”

And truly, you hadn’t. You liked him too, yes. But what to do about it? You hadn’t thought that far ahead. Did you want a relationship with him? Were you going to act on your feelings or pretend none of this ever happened? You haven’t decided yet.

That didn’t seem to discourage him, though. If anything, his smile turned triumphant. “So you’re gonna think about it?”

“Even if I do, there’s no guarantee that—”

“It’s alright,” he cut you off, grinning. “I know I can change your mind.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re making me want to reject you just to spite you.”

Jeonghan laughed, his head tipping back as he did. “You can try, but you wouldn’t want to.”

That made you laugh, too, though you weren’t sure if it was because it was funny or because he was right. Either way, it didn’t matter. You shook your head, exhaling sharply. “You’re really confident, huh?”

Jeonghan shrugged. “It’s not confidence. I just know I’m right.”

You scoffed, lightly kicking sand at him. He dodged with a laugh, but you caught the way he was still looking at you—like he already knew what you’d decide.

You weren’t sure exactly when Jeonghan decided to start his little mission, but once he did, it became impossible to ignore. Maybe it was when he started showing up more often, always finding excuses to be around you. Maybe it was when he started helping you without being asked—fixing the latch on your door when it got stuck, carrying things before you could, slipping you an extra slice of fruit without a word.

Or maybe it was when he stopped being subtle about it.

“You’re really going all out with this, aren’t you?” you asked him one afternoon when he took the heavy bag of groceries from your hands. One moment, you were struggling with the weight, and the next, he was lifting it effortlessly—like he’d been waiting for the chance.

“This isn’t even half of it.” He flashed you a smile. “Date me for real, and I’ll show you what all-out really means.”

At first, it was playful, something you could brush off. Jeonghan was naturally charming; he knew exactly what to say and how to say it to fluster you.

“If you keep staring at me like that, I might get the wrong idea,” he’d tease whenever you so much as glanced his way.

But then there were moments when the teasing fell away, leaving something else in its place.

One evening, after a long day, you sat on the porch, stretching your legs and watching the sky change from gold to deep blue. Jeonghan appeared beside you, holding two cups of tea. He handed you one without a word, then sat down beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed.

You took a sip, the warmth spreading through you. “Did you make this?”

“I did,” he said, propping himself on his hands. “Gram told me you liked this kind.”

You turned to look at him, but he was already watching you. The usual mischief in his eyes had softened into something else. You looked away first.

But if his actions weren’t enough, he made sure everyone else knew he liked you, too.

It wasn’t over the top—no grand declarations or dramatic gestures. Jeonghan was smoother than that. He let people assume what they wanted and simply confirmed it with a smile. He wove it so naturally into conversations that it left no room for argument.

“You’re a good boy, Jeonghan,” a man at the market told him one day. “I should introduce you to my niece. She’s a lovely girl—smart, well-mannered—”

Jeonghan barely let him finish before shaking his head. “Ah, that won’t be necessary,” he said, glancing at you. “I already have someone I like.”

The man’s gaze flickered between you both before he let out a knowing laugh. “Oh, I see. You two make a nice couple.”

Before you could open your mouth to correct him, Jeonghan sighed dramatically. “I know, right? But she’s making me work for it.”

“Well, keep at it then.”

You groaned, moving to another stall before he could make it worse. But it didn’t stop there. As you browsed through vegetables, another vendor—a woman in her forties—raised an eyebrow at you. “You two seem close,” she said knowingly. “Are you finally together?”

Jeonghan sighed again, this time heavier, as if burdened. “Not yet. She’s making me suffer.”

You turned to glare at him. “Oh my god, stop saying that.”

The vendor laughed. “Smart girl. Make him work for it, dear.”

You let out an embarrassed chuckle. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

At the market, the vendors chuckled and nodded approvingly when he sighed about how hard he was working to win you over. At the café, the barista raised an eyebrow when Jeonghan ordered your drink before you could even say it.

“He’s already ordering for you,” she mused, sliding the cup across the counter. “Boyfriend privileges?”

Jeonghan took the cup and handed it to you without missing a beat. “Not yet, but I’m working on it.”

You swatted his arm. “Why do you keep telling everyone that?”

“What? It’s true.” He looked at the barista. “She is making me work for it.”

The barista laughed. “Sounds like you’ve got a good shot.”

“Exactly.” He flashed her a grin before steering you toward a table.

Then there were the aunties. The older women in town had a habit of doting on Jeonghan whenever they saw him, always fussing over how handsome he was, how polite. And, naturally, they always tried to set him up with their nieces or granddaughters.

“You’re not seeing anyone, right, Hannie?” one of them asked one afternoon as you both helped carry groceries to her house.

“No, but I’m trying,” Jeonghan replied.

The auntie’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Well, dear, you should consider it. He’s a catch.”

Jeonghan turned to you, smirking. “Hear that? I’m a catch.”

You rolled your eyes and walked off, pretending not to hear the rest of their conversation.

But despite all his teasing, despite how easy he made it seem, you could tell he meant it. The way he always lingered close, the way he took things from your hands without asking so you wouldn’t have to carry them, the way he looked at you—warm, steady, reassuring. He wasn’t playing around.

Soon, three months had passed and the town’s founding anniversary festival came. The celebration took place at the townhall by the beach, with tables stretched across the clearing. The scent of grilled fish and food blended with the salty breeze, and children ran barefoot across the sand, shrieking as they chased each other. It was the kind of gathering that felt timeless, a tradition that was part of the town itself.

You watched from the shade of a large tree, with a cup of cold barley tea in your hands. The scene before you was lively, familiar now, yet something inside you was restless.

Jeonghan was at the center of it all.

You weren’t sure when you lost track of him, but now, across the clearing, you spotted him with a group of aunties fussing over him. One of them reached up to pinch his cheek, scolding him for not eating enough, and he only laughed, throwing an arm around her shoulder and promising to come by for dinner next week. Not far from them, a group of kids tugged at his sleeves, demanding that he join their game. He let them drag him off with a grin, playfully ruffling a boy’s hair as they ran.

He was so at home here. And a strange feeling twisted in your chest as you took it all in—the way people naturally gravitated toward him, the way he moved through the crowd like he belonged, because he did. He had a place here, something his, something permanent.

And you… you were just passing through. A guest in their steady everyday life.

Strong breeze rustled the trees overhead, and you exhaled, as if trying to shake the thoughts away. It shouldn’t matter. You knew from the start that this was temporary, that eventually, you’d have to leave. Which was why the idea of starting something with him felt so selfish.

Across the clearing, Jeonghan’s gaze caught yours and the smile that tore across his lips made your heart melt. You smiled back as he chased the kids away and started jogging toward you.

“Why do you look like that?” he asked as soon as he was sat next to you.

You blinked. “Like what?”

He carefully grabbed the cup from your hand and took a sip. “Like you’re about to cry.”

You huffed, smiling sheepishly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jeonghan crouched beside you, resting his forearms on his knees, watching you carefully. “You’re thinking too hard about something,” he said. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing.” You looked away, but he reached out, gently tucking your hair behind your ear.

“You’re a bad liar.”

You sighed. “It’s just… it’s really nice here,” you admitted, gesturing toward the gathering. “You’re really part of this town, aren’t you?”

Jeonghan tilted his head. “Of course. I grew up here.”

“Exactly.” You let out a small, self-deprecating laugh. “You belong here, Jeonghan. This is your home. And I’m just a guest.”

He studied you for a second, then said, “Is that what this is about?”

You shook your head, but it was unconvincing, even to yourself. Jeonghan exhaled, then reached up, lightly flicking your forehead. 

You winced. “Ow—what was that for?”

“For being stupid.” He rested his chin on his hand. “You think just because I’ve lived here longer, that means I belong here more than you?”

“You do, though,” you muttered.

“Maybe.” His gaze softened. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came. Because wasn’t that the problem? No matter how much you loved this town, it wasn’t yours. And if you started something with him, would it really be fair, knowing you’d have to leave eventually?

Jeonghan must have sensed your hesitation because his lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “You’re thinking too much.”

“I can’t help it,” you chuckled.

“It’s okay.” He reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Just don’t talk yourself out of liking me.”

Shaking your head with a grin, you said, “I’ll try.”

“Good,” he replied, still holding your hand, thumb brushing absentmindedly against your skin.

You were staring at each other when someone called your name. “Enough with the eyes! Come help us with the lanterns,” one of the women called, waving you over to where a group of ladies sat beneath a pavilion.

Jeonghan rose to his feet, patting his knees as he said, “Go on, then.” 

But before you could pull away, he leaned in to press a quick peck to your cheek. Your skin burned as a chorus of delighted gasps and giggles erupted from the women.

“Oh my,” someone cooed.

You turned to glare at Jeonghan but he was already walking away with a satisfied grin. “I’ll see you later,” he said casually, hands in his pockets like he hadn’t just done that in broad daylight, in front of an entire audience.

You inhaled sharply, willing your face to cool before reluctantly stepping toward the pavilion. It didn’t help that all eyes were on you, their smirks making it painfully clear that you were about to be teased the moment you step under that shade.

“Oh, look at her,” one of them teased, nudging another. “Her face is all red.”

“About time, don’t you think?” another woman drawled, folding the paper carefully over the frame. “They’ve been at it for weeks now. It’s a wonder why they’re not dating yet.”

“You’re not?” asked one, turning to you with curious eyes.

You blinked, chuckling awkwardly as you sat down. “No. We’re not.” 

You glanced around at the lanterns in progress, carefully folded and held together with thin wooden frames. “So how does this work?” you asked, steering the conversation elsewhere.

“Ah, you’ve never done this before?” one of them asked, already making space in front of you. “Here. let me show you.”

“Flying lanterns are part of the festival. Every year, we make these, light them up at night and send them out to sea,” another explained, demonstrating how to fasten the frame together. “Most people make wishes on them before letting them go.”

You nodded, watching her hands. “That’s nice.”

“It is,” she agreed. “Some people write their wishes down, but most just send them off and let fate handle the rest.”

The conversation wandered after that. The women shared stories about past festivals, about childhood memories, about their work, their families. Some had left the town for a time but eventually returned. Others had never left at all and found both their purpose and their love in this small town.

“Isn’t it funny how life works?” one of them mused. “Some of us spend years wanting to leave, only to realize later that there’s nowhere else we’d rather be.”

A few nodded in agreement, their expressions wistful. You listened quietly, fingers tracing the smooth paper of your lantern. 

You never thought about staying, not once. This town had been an escape, a peaceful pause in your fast-paced life. But somehow, it kept drawing you in. You used to feel like a visitor passing through, but then there were mornings spent sipping tea with Gram, evenings watching the fishermen return with their catch, and nights when laughter—yours and Jeonghan’s—echoed through the town. Eventually, it got to a point where when you looked up, the sky was no longer unfamiliar. The people here weren’t strangers anymore.

And Jeonghan…

“You know,” another woman started, glancing at you with a knowing smile, “there’s a popular myth about these lanterns.”

That got your attention. “A myth?”

“It’s probably just that, a myth with no truth to it,” she said lightly, her hands expertly tying a knot, “but it’s been passed down longer than anyone can remember. They say that you can make wishes when you send out a lantern, but if you send one with your lover, it’s a wish to stay together forever.”

You smiled, finding it unsurprisingly typical but interesting nonetheless. “That’s… romantic.”

“That’s why couples always do it together,” another woman added, grinning. “It’s tradition.”

The first woman turned to you again. “Has Jeonghan asked you to send one with him yet?”

You blinked, caught off-guard by the question. Then again, you should have expected the conversation to take this turn. Before you could answer, another woman let out a laugh. “Of course he has! He wouldn’t miss the chance.”

You pressed your lips together, knowing there was no way out of this. If you admitted that Jeonghan hadn’t asked, they’d tease him mercilessly. If you denied everything outright, they wouldn’t believe you. So instead, you focused on your lantern, pretending to be engrossed in aligning the edges.

The women continued chatting around you, discussing the upcoming lantern release, while your thoughts drifted.

Jeonghan hadn’t asked you to send one with him. Would he?

And if he did… would you say yes?

You waited for him to ask. Maybe it was foolish, but as the day stretched into the night and festivalgoers started making their way to the beach with lanterns in hand, you kept expecting Jeonghan to turn to you and say something. An invitation, even a playful one—anything that would suggest he wanted to go together.

But he never did. And somehow, you still ended up going with him. Not that you were expecting to go with someone else.

There was a mini talent show by the beach, with townsfolk participating by singing or dancing. Jeonghan had simply taken your hand and led you away from the main stage, settling on a low stone wall far from the noise of the crowd. From where you sat, the music was still within reach but the space around you was quiet.

He left to get food and returned not too long after, making you raise an eyebrow. “That was quick.”

Jeonghan handed you a skewer with a smirk. “Don’t ask, just eat.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but you still took the food. You talked over the hearty food. He complained about how long the lines were, you accused him of cutting them. He neither confirmed nor denied it, only smiled in that way that said maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.

At some point, his gaze drifted to the lantern resting beside you.

“Did you make that?”

You hummed, nodding. “Where’s yours?”

He stretched his legs out, leaning back on his hands. “I don’t need one.”

You glanced at him. “Why not?” You instinctively pushed the lanter away from him. “You are not taking mine.” 

He frowned. “Are you saying you don’t want to send one together?”

You stared at him, heat creeping up your cheeks. “W–What are you talking about?”

Jeonghan smirked teasingly. “So you already know the myth?”

You blinked but didn’t say anything. He turned his head toward you. “You’re not gonna make me go light one alone, will you?”

You scoffed. “Is this how you’re gonna ask me to light one with you? Surely you can do better.”

“Asking is for people who don’t get what they want.”

You let out an incredulous laugh and rolled your eyes. “Have fun lighting one by yourself then.”

He hummed, seemingly satisfied. For a moment, the conversation paused, the music from a young girl singing a ballad echoing through the cool night air. The warm glow of festival lights flickered over Jeonghan’s features as he watched you eat quietly and watch the show.

Then, in a quieter voice, he said, “What would you wish for?”

That made you glance at him, looking away just as quickly when you saw the fond look in his eyes. You cleared your throat. “I don’t know. Peace, maybe.”

Jeonghan chuckled. “Like world peace? That’s so generic.”

“No. Peace in my own life,” you corrected, scoffing.

He hummed. “That’s not what most people wish for.”

“Yeah? What do most people wish for?”

He leaned back on his hands again, gazing toward the dark sea. “Love, money… fame?” He smirked. “A kiss under the fireworks.”

You chuckled. “That last one sounds oddly specific.”

“Does it?” His tone was light, but his eyes flickered back to you, holding yours for a second too long.

You looked away first, exhaling. “I think peace is a good wish.”

Jeonghan didn’t reply right away. “Is that why you left the city?” he asked eventually.

There it was, the question about your life and choices. Somehow, it didn’t feel as jarring as the previous times he tried to bring it up. Maybe because you wanted to tell him this time.

You pressed your lips together before answering. “I got fired for exposing a senior executive who sexually harassed one of my coworkers. Long story short, the company protected him and I got fired. I sued for wrongful termination but my own lawyer told me to back down, said the fight wasn’t worth it. They were too big and I was too small.”

Jeonghan’s expression hardened slightly. “So you gave up?”

“I didn’t at first,” you murmured. “But they made sure no one else would hire me. There spread rumors about me. That I leak information to rival companies. None of it was true, but in my field, something like leaking information is a big deal. It was enough to ruin me.”

Jeonghan didn’t say anything at first, but his jaw clenched. “That’s bullshit.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “It was. But I had no choice so I took the settlement and left. I just… wanted to be somewhere far away. I needed a temporary escape.”

“Temporary?” he echoed.

You glanced at him, only to find him still watching you intently.

You hesitated, fingers curling around the wooden frame of the lantern. You thought about the town, about the people who had unknowingly made space for you in their world. About Jeonghan who had secured a place for himself in your heart. And about you who had slowly started to belong here.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I think I’m starting to change my mind.”

Jeonghan didn’t speak, just watched you, his gaze steady in the lantern-lit dark. Then he leaned in, slowly. You weren’t sure if you moved too, only that suddenly he was too close, his eyes flickering to your lips. His fingers brushed over yours on the cool concrete, squeezing as he continued leaning closer.

And just when your lips were about to meet, a loud boom echoed the air, and the sky erupted into colors.

You were startled, glancing at the sky as fireworks exploded in bursts of gold and red, reflecting in your eyes. Beside you, Jeonghan chuckled. “You wished for a kiss under the fireworks, didn’t you?”

You burst out laughing. “Shut up.”

He grinned, jumping down the ledge and nodding toward the crowd gathering by the beach. “Let’s go. They’re starting.”

You scrambled to grab your lantern and get down the wall. But Jeonghan was already lifting you by the waist and setting you carefully on your feet. Then with your fingers intertwined, he led you down the sandy path to the beach where people were starting to light their lanterns.

And for the first time since arriving in this town, staying sounded like a really good idea.

The drive up to the pear farm was quiet, but not in a way that felt empty or awkward. Jeonghan’s hand was warm against yours, his thumb absentmindedly tracing the back of your palm as he steered with his other hand.

When the lanterns started floating into the sky, he had leaned down to whisper, “The view is better from up the hill.” 

And before you could even respond, he was already tugging you toward his truck, grinning like he knew you wouldn’t say no. And you didn’t.

Now, sitting on the rooftop of the warehouse, you could see what he meant. From here, the town stretched below, the coastline shimmering with lanterns drifting over the sea like golden fireflies. It was breathtaking.

For a while, neither of you spoke. It was much quieter than the festival down below. Up here, it felt like the rest of the world had fallen away. Jeonghan sat close, one arm over your shoulder as you rested your head against his chest, his heartbeat steady and soothing. You turned your head, wanting to say something, only to find that he was already watching you.

He smiled. “I really, really, like you. You have no idea.”

“Well,” you breathed, smiling back at him. “I really, really, like you too.”

He smirked. “I knew it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Boy, bye,” you muttered, moving to stand up but he stopped you.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, looking nowhere near sorry at all. “Don’t go.”

His fingers brushed over your cheek, light at first, as if waiting for you to stop him—but you didn’t. Instead, you nuzzled into the warmth of his hand. The slight furrow of his brows and the affection in his eyes stirred something inside you, igniting some kind of courage that made you reach for his cheek and lean forward to press a soft kiss on his lips.

A quick one. Fleeting but it left a tingling sensation on your lips, itching for more. Something flickered in Jeonghan’s eyes before his lips crashed into yours in a slow, searching kiss. It wasn’t hurried or desperate, just deep, lingering, like neither of you wanted to let go. So you didn’t let go.

Jeonghan kissed you like he had all the time in the world. His lips moved over yours in a way that made your breath hitch, slow and thorough, like he was memorizing you, savoring the shape of your mouth, the way you sighed against his lips.

Your fingers curled into his shirt, clinging onto him as warmth spread through you. He made a quiet sound when you pulled him closer, one hand slipping down to your waist, the other threading through your hair to tip your head back. The angle deepened the kiss and sent a shiver through you when his tongue pushed into your mouth.

You caught your breath when he pulled back slightly, eyes searching yours, his thumb tracing your jaw. Then, just as easily, his lips were back on yours, softer this time but just as insistent.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, only that at some point, you found yourself stepping down from the rooftop, hand in hand with him. The warehouse door creaked as he pushed it open, revealing the dim interior where weeks ago, something had almost happened between you. This time though, you weren’t stopping.

Jeonghan glanced at you with an inquiring look in his eyes, as if asking for a confirmation to continue. But you had already made up your mind. You reached for him, and he caught you in his arms with a breathless laugh. Then his lips were on yours again.

His hands slid down your back, pressing you flush against him. The warmth of his body, and the firmness of his touch was intoxicating. His lips trailed along your jaw, down the line of your throat, lingering at the sensitive spot beneath your ear.

“We can still stop if you’re not sure about this,” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and teasing.

Your fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt, already half undone from when you’d tugged at it earlier. “Stopping is the last thing in my mind right now.”

That was all the permission he needed.

His lips were on you again, hungrier this time, as if something had snapped inside him. The restraint he had so carefully held onto unraveled with every touch, every kiss. Your back met the cool surface of a stack of crates, but you barely noticed, too caught up in the way his hands slipped under the hem of your dress, the way he pressed into you like he couldn’t get close enough.

His hands slid higher, slipping beneath the tight band of your bra. The heat of his palm cupped your breast, sending a new wave of warmth through you. His lips left yours to trail lower, nipping at the hollow of your throat before pressing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. Your back arched into him before you even realized, his hands tightening at your waist in response.

“Jeonghan,” you breathed before you could stop it.

He hummed in response, the sound deep and approving. His fingers brushed along your ribs, teasing the hem of your dress upward, giving you plenty of time to stop him—but you didn’t. Instead, you tugged at his shirt and yanked it from his shoulders.

You could barely see him in the dim light, but you could still make out the smooth lines of his skin, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, his smooth long hair slightly disheveled from your hands running through it.

Without a word, he lifted you off your feet and kissed you again. Your legs wrapped around his torso, arms around his neck as he walked further into the warehouse and set you down an empty worktable. 

The cold surface of the worktable sent a shiver through you, but Jeonghan’s hands were warm as they slid along your thighs, pushing them apart just enough to step between them. His gaze darkened as he took you in, his fingers trailing on the bare skin beneath your dress before he pulled it over your head, tossing it somewhere behind him. 

“So beautiful,” he murmured, almost absentmindedly, like he was too distracted by you to realize he’d said it aloud. 

He leaned in again, capturing your lips in another slow, lingering kiss as his hands worked the clasp of your bra. The second it slipped from your shoulders, he palmed your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples in circles. A whimper escaped you, your back arching into him.

He lowered his head, lips parting just before he wrapped them around your nipple, sucking slowly and deeply. The warmth of his mouth sent a sharp jolt of heat through your nerves, pooling low in your stomach. 

“Jeonghan,” you gasped, thighs tightening around his waist as he switched to the other, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud before closing his lips around it and sucking again. He groaned, like he was savoring the taste of you, like he couldn’t get enough.

His hands slid down your back, gripping your hips, pressing you firmly against him and there was no mistaking the hard press of his erection through his jeans. The realization sent another wave of heat through you, and you bucked against him without thinking.

He grunted and pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, half-lidded eyes directed at you. “You’re gonna make me lose my mind,” he murmured, voice rough.

You kissed him, messy and eager, before smirking against his lips. “Well, wouldn’t you love it if I did?”

“Oh, fuck you,” he breathed before laying you down the table with urgency.

Your skin prickled with anticipation as you watched him unbuckle his belt. His fingers worked quickly, shoving his jeans and boxers down just enough, freeing himself from the restraints of his clothes.

Your lips parted at the sight of him—hard, flushed, and already leaking at the tip. You felt yourself clench at nothing as he leaned over you again, hands gripping your hips as he pressed himself against the damp fabric between your legs. The friction made you whimper, your thighs trembling around him.

“So sensitive,” he groaned, rolling his hips against yours, dragging himself along your clothed sex. “So soaked too.”

“Please do something about it,” you whispered, tilting your head back as his mouth found your throat, sucking at the supple skin, leaving behind a delightful sting that you knew you’d still see tomorrow.

His hands slipped into the waistband of your underwear, hooking his fingers in the fabric and dragging them down in one swift motion. The cool air against your bare skin made you shiver, but Jeonghan was quick to settle between your legs again, his fingers tracing teasingly up your inner thigh.

He paused, gaze flicking up to yours, searching. You knew what he was asking. pulling him down, capturing his lips in a desperate kiss. “I need you,” you whispered in his ear.

Jeonghan groaned into your mouth, pressing you deeper into the table as his hands roamed your skin. His fingers trailed lower, brushing against your inner thigh before sliding between your legs. A sharp gasp left you at the first stroke of his fingers. You didn’t bother pretending to be shy, not when he was rubbing delightfully against your clit, not when your hips bucked into his touch on instinct.

Then, just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he pulled back. You were just about ready to protest but your voice disappeared the second he dropped to his knees.

His hands gripped your thighs, dragging you closer to the edge of the table. He looked up at you, eyes dark with something ravenous.

“Oh—” before you could form a word, his mouth was on you.

The first swipe of his tongue sent a full-body shudder through you. “Jeonghan—” His name broke off into a gasp as he sucked your clit.

He hummed, satisfied, as he settled between your thighs like he belonged there, his fingers digging into your hips to keep you still—though that did little to stop the way your legs trembled around him. Then, without warning, he buried his tongue inside you, licking deep, slow, dragging obscene noises from your lips.

Your hands flew to his hair, clutching and pulling when the pleasure became too much, only for him to groan in approval, his grip tightening on you. The sounds—his mouth, your gasps, the heat—filled the empty warehouse, making your tummy coil tighter and tighter with every movement of his tongue.

“Jeonghan,” you whimpered, thighs squeezing around his head. “I’m—”

“I know.” His voice was hoarse, breathless, and he didn’t stop—if anything, he doubled down, sucking harder, fingers replacing his tongue, thrusting deep, curling just right until the knot in your stomach came undone.

Your body arched off the table, waves of pleasure crashing through you, leaving you breathless, dazed, trembling beneath him.

Jeonghan kissed his way back up your body. He lingered at your boobs, then at you collarbone and your neck, his breath warm as he whispered against your skin, “You’re beautiful like this.”

You barely had the voice to respond, still trembling from the way he’d unraveled you so effortlessly. But when his lips met yours again, you tasted yourself on his tongue, and something about that sent a fresh wave of pleasure through you.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. His forehead rested against yours, his lips brushing yours with every breath. 

“Please tell me you want this,” he whispered, his voice low and unsteady. Not because he didn’t know it, but because he needed to hear it.

You cupped his jaw, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “I want you, Jeonghan.”

His hand slid down your thigh, lifting it higher against his waist as he positioned himself with you, moving slowly. His lips found yours again, swallowing your gasp as he pushed himself in, filling you inch by inch, stretching you in the most delightful way.

He groaned softly into your mouth, his fingers intertwining with yours beside your head as he pushed deeper, until there was no space left between you. He didn’t move right away, just held you, let you feel him, let you adjust to the feeling of him buried inside you.

“You okay?” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

You nodded, breath shaky, overwhelmed by the way he was looking at you—like you were something to be cherished, something to be loved.

Then he started to move slowly, deeply, like he was practicing the clench, like he never wanted to forget the way you felt around him. He kissed you between every thrust, your lips, your cheek, your jaw, anywhere he could reach—his hands never leaving yours.

“You’re trembling.”

You were. From his hands, his mouth, his manhood and the intoxicating euphoria that clouded your head and left you gasping, arching into him, chasing every movement, every moment.

And when he finally whispered your name like a prayer, you knew you were completely, utterly lost in him.

Neither of you said much on the ride home, still giddy about what had just happened but too shy to talk about it. He kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh, as he hummed quietly with the music from the stereo. The cool night air slipped in through the open window, carrying the faint echoes of the festival, but here, in the car, it was just the two of you.

The guest house was dark when you arrived, Gram still out enjoying the festival somewhere. You half expected Jeonghan to go back to his room, but you knew he’d follow you inside yours.

“Wanna shower together?” he asked, hugging your from behind and kissing the side of your head.

You huffed a quiet laugh. “I think I’ll go by myself.”

“Oh, come on. Just say yes,” he whined, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Please?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Fine.” He was quick to tug you down the hall and into the bathroom. 

In the bathroom, steam floated in the air as warm water cascaded over your shoulders. Jeonghan stood behind you, arms wrapped loosely around your waist. He reached for the soap, lathering it between his palms before smoothing it over your shoulders, down your arms, his touch more soothing than teasing. 

His fingers traced along your spine, his lips brushing over the back of your neck before he whispered, “Don’t get turned on. We’re just taking a bath.”

You smacked his chest, laughing as you took the soap from his hand. “Turn around.”

Like an obedient puppy, he did as he was told and you lathered the soap against his back. For a long moment, you just stood there, quietly helping each other wash up.

As you were running your fingers into his hair, Jeonghan said, “You keep touching me like that, and we’re never getting out of here.”

You scoffed. “Take your mind out of the gutter.”

He grabbed your wrists gently, making you pause. “Okay, I hope you know that’s too much to ask when you’re standing here naked with me.”

“Oh my god, you’re the insatiable type, aren’t you?” you asked, shaking your head as you wriggled your hands free from his grip.

Jeonghan only grinned. “Baby, every man with a working penis is insatiable.”

You scoffed, flicking water at him. “That’s so insightful. Thanks,” you said with a deadpan expression.

He smirked. “I like to think I’m a man of wisdom.”

“You’re a menace. That’s what you are.”

“Yeah? And yet, here you are. Naked again. With me.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Obviously, I have bad judgment.”

“Mm. Bad judgment is agreeing to shower with me and expecting nothing to happen.” He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “Admit it. You wanted to see this again,” he added, gesturing to his body.

You shoved him under the water, laughing as you said. “Yeah, whatever.”

“See?” He slicked his hair back, giving you a triumphant look. “I always knew you liked me too much,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before stepping back under the spray.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t pull away when he reached for the loofah, running it down your arm with care. For all his teasing, he took his time with you, washing your skin with gently strokes, like he enjoyed the act itself, not just the excuse to touch you.

At some point, his fingers found yours under the water, linking them together. You looked up to find him watching you. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. The silence, the warmth, the feeling of standing here with him in the warm light of the bathroom, it was enough.

Steam was still in the air as you stood side by side in front of the bathroom mirror, you wrapped in a towel and him shirtless with gray sweatpants. You reached for your moisturizer while Jeonghan lazily brushed his teeth, watching you through the mirror.

“I saw a house for sale near the pear farm the other day,” you said casually, dabbing the product on your skin.

Jeonghan hummed, dipping his head down the sink to rinse his mouth. “Oh yeah?”

You nodded. “It’s nice. Small, but cozy. Has a garden.”

“I know that one. Nice house. The owners moved abroad with their daughter.” He wiped his mouth with a towel. 

“Do you know how much they’re selling it for?”

He capped his toothbrush and turned to face you fully. “It should be affordable. Real estate isn’t too expensive around here. Why? You interested?”

“Maybe,” you replied, shrugging.

He made a thoughtful sound, turning back to the mirror. “I won’t move in with you unless you marry me first.”

You snorted. “Don’t we technically live together already?”

“This is a guest house. That’s different,” he countered. “Buying a house is serious. I like you a lot, but I won’t spend money on a house unless we’re official official.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned to him. “I have my own money, you know?”

“So?”

“So? I’ll buy the house myself.”

Jeonghan nodded. “Yeah, I admire strong and independent women, but no. Not moving in with you unless you put a ring on it,” he said playfully, wiggling his fingers.

You shook your head, packing your skincare products back in your pouch. “I didn’t say I was gonna live there with you.”

“Oh?” he scoffed, crossing his arms. “Well, then if you’re living in that house, I should at least get a key.”

He turned to wash his hands, but halfway through, he froze. The bathroom went quiet except for the steady trickle of water against porcelain. Slowly, he turned back to you, his brows furrowing in realization.

“Wait a minute…”

You didn’t say anything, just shrugged. His eyes widened, and he straightened, covering his mouth in mock shock. “You’re staying?”

“I’m considering it.” You walked out of the bathroom, and as expected, Jeonghan was right behind you. “There’s a few things I can do if I settle down here. I could open a shop or something. Take up teaching or do marketing consults for the pear farm. I don’t see why not.”

You turned to find him still standing there, hand over his mouth like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

“Seriously?” you deadpanned.

He ignored you, blinking a few times before asking again, “You’re staying?”

You chuckled. “Yeah. I’m—”

Before you could say anything else, Jeonghan pulled you into a tight hug. He let out a breathy laugh against your hair, one hand sliding up to the nape of your neck.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around him too. You hadn’t expected it to be such a simple decision. When you first arrived, you told yourself this was just temporary, a place to breathe before figuring out where to go next. But now, the thought of leaving felt impossible. The town had settled into your bones. The people, the warmth, the way the sea stretched endlessly against the sky—it had all become a part of you. And of course, admittedly one of the main reasons of your stay, Jeonghan.

Maybe you’d known for a while. Maybe you’d been staying long before you admitted it to yourself. Maybe your doubts were just the shadows of a past self trying to resist the peace you had found here.

You hugged him a little tighter, pressing your face into his shoulder. Jeonghan pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his lips lifting into a mischievous smile.

“Let’s get married before you change your mind.”

You scoffed, patting his chest. “Okay, slow down, cowboy.”

And just like that, you were walking into a new phase in your life. Something slower, more mundane but steadier, and uneventful in the best way. It might have seemed too soon to say, but deep down, you knew you’d never regret choosing this life. 

Choosing him.

[fin]

[starlitscars]

Made of ice

Jackson era! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: One stormy night in the safety of Wyoming, it occurs to Joel that even though life has turned his heart into a slab of ice, there's a soft, melting spot buried deep inside... Only reserved for you.

Word count: 5.2k

Masterlist

Tags/warnings: MDNI, NSFW, implied age gap, canon-typical violence, Joel Miller needs his own warning, protective! Joel, soft! Joel, angst, fluff, smut, finger sucking, fingering, pet names, praise kink, language, no use of y/n, soft dom! Joel, negative thoughts, dea*h wish, self-doubt, self-confidence issues, Joel is a sweetheart here (but he doesn't think he's worthy of peace), rain, lots of rain, lightning, stormy weather, kinda established relationship, let me know if a tag has gone unnoticed.

Author's note: This is my very first attempt at writing for Joel Miller. I've had the idea in my mind for a few weeks now and it's hard to resist when it comes to him (did I say Pedro Pascal?) So I hope the details are accurate and if you decide to read this one shot, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did while writing it. If you want to be mutuals, I'll be more than glad <3

Divider by: saradika-graphics

Made of ice

You should've seen what you made of him.

The calm, slow beats in his chest are strikingly different from how he remembers them. In fact, he vaguely recalls the way those racing, dreadful patterns had carved themselves into his memory. With a rigid heart made of ice, it was nearly impossible to find the pulse in him, even at his most frightened, disappointed state. 

Joel used to walk into the face of danger with a rifle clutched in his dying grip, a life to save and thousands to destroy, and in all those moments any sign of life was nonexistent in him. There used to be rage, hatred, regret, and frustration... Oh lots of frustration, running through the veins in his body. He used to walk, talk, and breathe. But he wasn't alive.

Now he doesn't find it in himself to call it miracle. But somewhere between the lines, you happened. You happened and fuelled the dying fire in the far corner of his heart. He used to keep it empty and dark, like a deserted house with no furniture, a perfect place for the noises in his head to become loud and maybe help him stand the never-ending days of what everyone called life. 

You entered his life and now most of what he feels in these old veins is warmth, safety and attachment. Yes, he doesn't call it miracle, because his past doings are too  stained and unforgivable to deserve a miracle. To deserve you. The real miracle. The fathomable idea of what it feels to be alive.

Joel feels alive.

Some days, it feels like his wretched past is clawing its way back into his mind, calling those demons to end his days of peace with you. Some nights, he's restless... So terribly restless. What if you get injured on your next patrol? What if the Raiders attack you when you're out of the gates of Jackson? What if something bad happens to you the moment his eyes close? What if these damn what ifs come to life? This old mind tricks him into seeing pictures of what has never happened and probably never will. You always assure him that you'll be careful. He trusts you and your abilities, but he does not trust his fears. Because if life is too good, it scares him. 

It scares Joel Miller, way more than it would if he was trapped in a dark room with all of his fears and demons creeping on the cold hard floor towards him. He'd rather spend every day fighting off the Clickers and Raiders and every nasty threat out there, instead of pacing around the room and waiting to see if your patrols end well or not.

So he has no choice but to either convince Tommy to pick him as your patrol partner every damn time you have to do it – which he makes sure is as limited as possible – or occasionally keep an eye on you from a distance and let his thoughts consume him at the same time. Just like what he's doing now. 

His persistence in being close to you tends to earn him annoyed eye rolls and "She's more capable than that, Joel." comments from his brother... almost all the time. But he simply can't help it, and he thinks that you know it. Because you never complain nor haul him over the coals for his instincts and worries and the immense amount of care his rigid heart feels for you. He's silently thankful for that understanding.

You are safe here, he thinks. Even though he feels restless, his heartbeat has never been this calm. He sits and watches you on nights like this and there's only one thought ringing in his head. All the scolding is worth it. You're sprawled out peacefully on the bed. His bed. It must be straight out of a fucking impossible dream. You're here, in his atmosphere, in his menacing, guilty, dark presence... And you have chosen it knowingly. It's all he can ever ask for. 

The dim moonlight is swimming in through the curtains, casting a soft, silvery shadow over your face. Your hair is falling all around you like you're knowingly doing it... Posing for an artist just to paint this delicate beauty on a canva. 

Despite his bitter mood, a content smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Tearing his gaze from you, he downs the remaining whiskey and silently places the empty glass on the table, deciding that he needs a short walk to free his troubled mind. One morning, Maria woke up and decided that Joel needs to stay behind and help Tommy in fixing the issues in the town's only library. So you should have another partner for your patrol days for god knows how long. He fucking hates being told what to do. He fought tooth and nail to prevent that, and if you weren't there to stop him, he would as well turn the mess hall into another ruin that needed to be fixed – which only meant more time away from you. 

So it's going to take only two weeks, at worst. Only a terrible fortnight before things go back to normal. It's almost unbelievable how you have managed to awaken a sense of normalcy in him that he hasn't known in decades. Your absence is an instant threat to this normal life.

Maybe it's about time he gets used to it. He's not that weak. He shouldn't let his angers and worries run him. More importantly, he shouldn't ruin your much needed sleep with his usual problems right now. You've still got the weekend. He'll take a walk and be back here before you as much as stir in your deep slumber.

Oh. The damn library.

...

Jackson is eerily quiet in the middle of the night, enveloped by darkness and as isolated as it can be in this corner of the world. It's a stark contrast to how busy the whole community is during the daylight – bustling with happy greetings, careless jokes, movie days, small parties, and lots of work to do. It all asks for social interaction and he deeply hates it.

He hates when every passer-by's attention turns to you every time you step out in the open. He hates how prying eyes rove up and down your frame every time you walk into the bar. He hates how... He shakes his head, almost rolling his eyes at the loudness of these thoughts. Joel has to remind himself that he is the one you hold onto and introduce to everyone in every social gathering. The proud gleam in your eyes always placates him. There's no need to break a jaw in this town... Perhaps.

Lights flicker by the porches and the sound of his boots on the ground is the only sound that disturbs the silence. The sky is clouding over, distantly promising another stormy night in its gloomy wake. Occasional flashes of lightning light up the road and before Joel knows it, he's passing by the Tipsy Bison. It's 3 past midnight, no wonder why its doors are locked and closed. Either way he comes to a halt, letting the gears turn in his head as he opts for a very familiar path.

Your house. It's a short walk away from the bar.

Joel still recalls that day. How long has it been? Five, six, seven months? It feels like yesterday to him.

He'd had a terrible conversation with Tommy, not at all the way he'd planned it on his first day in Jackson. Things got heated up pretty quickly, leaving a bitter taste of rejection lingering on his tongue, the burn of the whiskey only worsening his mood.

"Just because life stopped for you, doesn't mean it has to stop for me..."

The words were ringing in his head as he stormed out of the bar. Shrugging his jacket on, all he wanted was to walk as far away from that area as possible. This affronted, begrudging, irrational sting was boiling in him and in that moment he was more than ready to leave the gates of Jackson even if it called for more danger. Life had really ended for him years ago, but to hear it from Tommy right after the hell he'd went through to find him... It really hurt. 

The pain was resurfacing in rapid tides.

If his boots could dig deeper, get stuck in the snow and propel him into the cold biting blanket of the earth, he'd welcome it. If life had really ended for him, he had to make it make sense by ending himself as well. This... There was this distant melody echoing in the air and cutting through his troubled thoughts. The wind was harsh against his ears, and each step brought the melody closer. 

It really could be the last song that played before his funeral.  

Joel was surrounded by all the colors, and all he could see was white, eyes fixed on the ground. He didn't pay much attention as he bumped into someone. He barely lifted his head to apologize, and then his gaze settled on the crackling fire on the left side of the road. 

Red and orange and yellow hues. It was a fresh contrast. His eyes were hurting from all the white snow.

He came to a halt, mindlessly waving at the person he'd bumped into. A dozen of kids had gathered around the burning logs in a barrel on the porch, rubbing their hands together and listening to the same melody he was entranced by. The same melody that he thought would be his burial hymn.

Joel's eyes followed their excited faces, wondering who they were looking at. He saw you mirroring their hopeful gleams first, and then he registered the guitar on your lap. 

To make the matters worse, you had tilted your head, shooting him a funnily quizzical look. He might've looked weird back then. The town's newcomer, with a permanent scowl on his face, maybe plotting murder as well (considering that it was the main topic in all the words that already flew around about him).

He didn't answer, still dead in his tracks as if he was immobilized by some invisible force. So you shifted in your seat, silently offering him a spot among the children as if to say "You can come over and join us."

He had two choices in that moment, either a polite decline was on the table or a dismissive frown. He looked over his shoulder at the bar and finally opted for the third choice – or so his mind created another choice for him – and he nodded, joining in on your little gathering without as much as saying a word. He really wanted to hear that song.

He never asked whether you knew the words to that song, but that night when he lay in bed and his thoughts were far from the idea that he wanted to bury himself in the snow, he vaguely remembered the lyrics. And it hit him hard, like a punch to the gut.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world 

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

He wanted to ignore how the words affected him in the middle of the night. It was the first night he could feel some semblance of peace, not sleeping with an eye open in case someone attacked them. Ellie was safe in another room. So he really considered that. He considered the possibility of staying. He was relatively new to the community... And so damn unaccustomed to the whole arrangement. He almost woke up the next morning and started packing before he remembered where he was.

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Those words stuck with him.

And his first encounter with you was a harbinger of different things to come.

One day of patrolling with you led to another, one night of inviting you for a drink led to another. One peaceful afternoon in the stable led to another. One gloomy evening in the clinic did not lead to another. He was way too protective of you to let that happen again.

He truly feels lucky. You could be anywhere else, better off if you picked anyone other than this grumpy, old man. And yet you still want him. You silly girl. You've melted his heart with your warmth. 

But he's like a lake, deserted in the middle of a haunted forest and engulfed in coldness. Even though the center is warm and gooey, he keeps the surface frozen and rigid and menacing. Hard enough to keep his instincts sane and alarmed. Cold enough to let everyone know that you're his and he will not fucking share. 

Lightning strikes again in the sky.

He lifts himself up and off your front stairs with a heavy grunt. An hour has passed since he left for a walk. The clouds have fully gathered in the sky and he thinks that he should be by your side now.

Joel really cares little for the details, always asking Tommy and Ellie to spare him the explanation and get straight to the point. But with you, it's hard to forget a couple of things. One night, a few weeks ago, you were pulling him past the threshold of your house. So adorably drunk and inviting. He was still a little pissed by how the rainstorm had ruined your nightly walk. Despite your complaints about sharing a kiss in the rain, he'd dragged you back to the nearest shelter possible, because he just didn't want to get fucking soaked. Joel didn't find it romantic at all. He was frowning, still pinning you against the wall for a begrudgingly needy kiss. You giggled into his mouth, playful fingers pocking at his chest. "Come on Joel. Let yourself enjoy it... All these neverending drops on the roof, the fresh earthy scent that comes after it... It's just really beautiful. One of the few things that kept me sane before I came here..." 

He's not really against the idea. But the changing weather doesn't bode well with him. One day is sunny, and the next is rainy and it just goes to show how he has no power over the situation.

Hell. A part of Joel is really terrified of the changing weather. One day it was scorching hot, and the next his boots crunched against the white blankets of neverending snow, reprimanding him for his carelessness. Time would pass whether he wanted to or not. He is still terrified, wishing he could stretch the time he could spend with you. God knows he wants an eternity with you. 

He has seen enough rain for a lifetime. He hasn't seen you enough. How could he enjoy getting soaked in tiny drops of water when all he wanted was to bury his face in the crook of your neck and stay there for a while – maybe forever and a little more?

But he has considered it since then. If there are a few things that keep you happy and rainy days have to be one of them, he'll give you that. He'll get used to that. There's no pattern with the rainfall in here, and the weather forecast is pretty much nonexistent. He has promised himself to tell you whenever it rains, even though he despises the idea of you catching a cold after minutes or hours of dancing in the cold, letting droplets of water wash over you without a care in this wretched world. 

He also despises the idea of waking you up.

But he knows you'll like it. You careless, adorable girl. He lives to see that excited gleam in your eyes. Everytime you show it, this old heart pounds impatiently in his chest and it all feels like the first time it has happened.

He's back home in no time. 

So, kicking his boots off as silently as possible, he trudges over and settles down by the edge of the bed, suppressing a low groan. His knees still ache from all the never-ending effort he's put in repairing the library over the past few days. Jesus, he just wants it to be done as soon as possible. It feels like he's losing so much time when he's away from you. Now that you're still pretty much asleep in the same position he last saw you, all Joel wants is to lie down by your side and melt in your warm embrace instead of having to fight with his thoughts and the world to not take away yet another precious piece of him. He can't afford to even think about losing you.

Each flash of lightning illuminates the contours of your beautiful face and he can't help himself when he lifts a hand and lets his knuckles gently stroke your cheek. Your lips are parted ever so slightly and you look so innocent in your unconscious dream. He almost backs down, part of him hoping that it rains throughout the day, just so he doesn't guilt trip himself for the pout on your face if you miss it. You need to rest.

As if you sense his hesitation, you stir in bed and lean into his touch. A low hum escapes you, and Joel is too weak to deny himself the softness it brings. His wounded knuckles are soon replaced with a calloused thumb and he wonders what's so interesting about these hands that never ceases to catch your attention.

One night at the bar, Joel had caught you actually staring at them and when he teased you a little about it, you just shrugged and grinned mischievously. "I mean... I just like them so much. Your hands are always warm, and... and that's all."

He shrugged it off that night. Ellie had also considered it a flex for him to have warm hands even in the coldest days of winter, but with you and the way you looked at him... It was different. He knew it was more than that. 

And when the nights he shared with you went further than his sinful thoughts had planned, you showed him that it was more than that. It was more than the warmth you found there. If anything, your helpless whimpers were an indication of how capable and strong these hands were.

Heat blooms in his chest. It simply is endearing. The way you always seem to recognize his touch and send his head spiraling with the idea that you want him to do more. You've never been afraid of him. You've never pushed him away. You've never judged him for the horrible things he's done. Jesus, it should terrify him. Joel should've pushed you away at some point, because he knows you'd be better off without him, but how could he muster the strength to do so? Since that fateful moment on your porch, your presence keeps on inviting him for more. More than simply existing. And God, if you knew how he wants to do more than that every second of the day... Only if the world lets him breathe a little.

There's another bolt of lightning and raindrops finally begin to drum against the window pane.

Joel shakes his head to get rid of those worrisome ideas. Propping himself on one elbow, he leans over ever so slightly and lets his thumb trace its way to your chin, up to your jawline, and then back to the soft skin on your cheek. He draws circles over the blooming flush and then his thumb is traveling down to your lower lip. Your mouth parts just a little more, breathing even and content and if he gets a grip on himself, he may notice that there's a ghost of a smile in there as well.

"Baby..." He whispers softly, his gaze drifting all over your adorable face. You really are a piece of art, tangled in the sheets, in the safety of his house, and your innocent hums are doing something to him. Some obscene voice that silently pleads for more. More and more... Just to give you more. 

You stir a little more.

He leans over and places a gentle kiss on your forehead, the sweet, fruity scent he's come to like a lot about you engulfing his senses. He watches every little movement with amusement. "My sweet baby... You want to see what's waitin' for you outside."

"Joel," you mumble sleepily, voice drowsy and laced with a hint of confusion as you rub your eyes and stretch your arms before looking around the dark room with a quizzical expression on your face. It doesn't take long for the realization to hit you and the familiar gleam in your gaze makes him smile. You stare a him, wide-eyed. "Is it- again?"

He chuckles and gestures at the window. "Yes, a heavy one at that."

Again, there's that hum of delight as you follow his gaze. The pitter-patter of the rain cheers you up like a lollipop would do to a child. It's maddeningly adorable.

You should be running to the backyard by now, but instead you stare at him for a while. It's his turn to be confused. Your smile gets broader by each passing second as your delicate hands trace his face and run over the salt and pepper patches of his beard. When you playfully ruffle his hair, your eyes are still droopy and dreamy and so damn kissable that he just can't help himself.

His other hand fondles with a loose strand of hair beside you on the pillow before twirling it between his fingers. You bite your lower lip and lift your head just enough for a brief peck on the tip of his nose. He chuckles, letting his fingers draw a line over the column of your neck, down to your chest, and at last they disappear beneath the sheets, settling comfortably on the warm expanse of your belly. 

Joel assumes that his presence is not too close to lock you in place, and yet not too loose to let you drift back into unconsciousness. You just have the perfect moment to escape. For goodness sake, rain is the one thing you choose over anything else. The thing you like a lot.

But you're still here, dazed eyes flickering all over his face and it just gives him a second thought. A new idea to test your patience. Seeing you still pinned under him and unmoving, was not really in his list when he decided to walk back home and wake you up. He chortles with amusement. If you want what he thinks you do, he could give you that... "Come on sweetheart, what's stoppin' you?"

His fingers drift lower, exploring the bare flesh of your thigh, right where his mouth was hours ago. Still as warm as he remembers, maybe a little bruised too. "It's all rainy outside. Ain't that what you wanted?"

"I know..." You mumble, an undertone of need sewn in your voice as you look down over the sheets that cover every movement of his hand. It's too dark for you to see anything anyway. He could easily toss the covers aside, but it's wickedly satisfying this way. "I'm- um, just feeling a little under the influence...and it's- uh, it's distracting."

His hand caresses its way to where he knows you need it the most, and you barely repress a shudder when his fingertips glide over your folds. But he barely feels you, a ghost of a touch hovering there as a smirk threatens to flicker at the corner of his mouth.

"Wonder if my hand's makin' a good influence or a bad one. What d'you say, baby?"

It pelts down steadily outside, but you don't seem to care the slightest about it. Neither does Joel. A low gasp emanates from you when his touch becomes proper, rubbing circles and spreading the slick over your clit as slow and unrushed as he physically can manage. You're still indecently wet after he'd brought you over the edge again and again before you dozed off... and the fact that some of his cum might be gathering in his hand is fueling his lewd thoughts.

You naughty girl.

"A very bad one, I see." He tuts, feeling your chest heaving up and down beneath him. It's easy to rile you up this way. Desperation is written in your expression... and he hasn't even started yet.

"She needs fixin', doesn't she?" Joel asks, bringing his movement to a sudden halt. You're too distracted by everything he does to form a coherent thought. He lifts an expectant brow, now actually waiting for an answer.

"Yes- yes Joel... need it so bad... so bad it hurts." You breathe, a helpless pout forming on your lips.

"I know baby. I know... Jus' lay down and let me take care of it, hm? How's that sound?" He demands again, but this time he doesn't give you a chance to respond as he pushes two fingers past your weeping hole, burying them knuckles deep within your warmth. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, eyelids heavy as you grasp his arm, squirming like a helpless, needy girl.

What a cruel man he is.

"Not off to a good start, angel. I know you can be more patient."

You nod quickly, biting your lip in an attempt to stop yourself from wriggling and twisting on the bed. For a split second, Joel considers pulling out to nuzzle his face between your legs and let the heat consume him. A perfect place to brave the cold, restless seasons. 

But his fingers aren't shy either. He starts with slow thrusts, effortlessly sliding in and out before picking up the pace. He makes you adjust to his rhythm, and when you let go and open up, the obscene moans and chocked out cries are all that fill the silence of the house. Jesus, he lives to hear them every day. He rewards you by curling his fingertips to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

You shudder particularly hard at that, more arousal pooling inside you and soaking his fingers. You're losing your grip with reality, and he can sense it as your legs begin to shake and your knee brushes over the denim of his jeans, but you still remember to abide by his "No squirming" rule.

You're so pliant and obedient in his hands that it does nothing but to spur Joel to give you more. And so he does.

"I like these sounds," He adds a third finger, tilting his head to whisper in your ear. "I dream about them all the time."

You whimper and tighten your hold around Joel's arm. When he feels that your orgasm is creeping impossibly close, his thumb joins and rubs rapid circles over your bundle of nerves and that's your undoing. You clench around him, walls tightening and squeezing his fingers deeper – if that's even possible – as waves of white-hot euphoria crash over your worn-out body and take over your senses. Your back arches involuntarily into him. A sound between a groan and a curse escapes his throat.

"That's it. Atta girl... that's it, so fuckin' beautiful."

His touch is unrelenting as he talks you through it with a string of sweet nothings. 

Only when you come down and rest back on the bed he slowly pulls out. You're panting heavily, face flushed and heated and so effortlessly seductive that Joel is sure no fucking artist could ever capture it in words of a poem or colors of a painting. Joel is the only one to witness this moment and it swells his chest with pride. He wants to drink it in, let it run through his veins like never-ending liquor.

He lifts his hand, smirking as you gape at the way it's glistening under the dim light. You're in awe. He softly places the tips between your swollen lips and you waste no time in swirling your tongue around them, licking the slick off as if it's a delightful lollipop. And the hazy look on your face says that it's more than just a sweet treat.

His own breathing hitches when you open your mouth a little wider and take him fully in, sucking and humming and driving him absolutely crazy. He shakes his head slightly, catching the playful gleam in your gaze.

"Hm. Still a very bad influence."

When you're fully recovered and satisfied, Joel lifts you up in his arms and walks towards the backyard, chuckling at your confused expression. You give a squeal and wrap your hands around his neck to keep yourself steady, at the same time trying to gauge what his next plan would be. You really have forgotten about the rain, haven't you?

He comes to a halt, making sure the blanket he'd just picked off the bed is not leaving any part of your body uncovered. The rainstorm has eased off considerably over the past hour, but he doesn't want to risk it. Keeping you warm and safe in the cold is and will always be his top priority, no matter if his back or knees protest from how much they ache. Hell, he aches for you and that content smile on your face. Nothing beats it.

"My girl still wants to go out, hm?"

Your eyes flicker between him and the half-open door, filled with excitement and delight and a tiny flicker of doubt. "Yes Joel... but...you sure you want to join in?"

"I don't know," He feigns innocence, pretending to think for a short while before his face lights up with an idea. "Do I get a kiss for it?"

You laugh and lean up to press your lips into his in a soft, lingering kiss. It's so tender and reassuring that he has to pull back before changing his mind and taking you back to the bed.

"Then it's settled."

It has been settled for a long time.

Maybe he can get used to it. Maybe you get a better idea of what you've made of him with your presence at times when he easily complies with things that make you happy. A heart made of ice, molten enough to experience the world with you all over again. Even if he gets soaked in the rain, he's alright with it. You kiss him and all the discomfort is forgotten.

He should give it time and learn to breathe again. Learn to stay, to settle. To let you know that you're all he sees.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world 

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

The words are carved in his head. He chances a glance at the living room before walking past the door. Your guitar is placed on the couch. Maybe one day he'll bring himself to play his melodies for you too. He thinks that he's got a lot of time for it now. He wants an eternity with you, and in this wretched world, eternity lasts as long as you'll have him.

One, two... Ten droplets fall over him. He kisses you again, harder and longer. His ice-cold heart melts just a little more at your careless laughter. Just stay with me.

[kbwrites]

Husband! Nanami

synopsis: your husband comes home for another long and arduous day. He only wishes to stay with you forever.

⚝tags: husband!nanami, reader is a housewife, nsfw, nanami loves eating his wife out

⚝wc: 1.6k

Husband Nanami! Drags his feet, trudging wearily to the entrance of his shared home. Each step heavier than the last. Work has been increasingly stressful, each day more demanding than the last. Today was no different. He brings a tired hand up to the doorknob, turning it slowly. The soft yellow light of the foyer illuminates his face, the scent of his safe space hitting his nostrils.

“Kento?” There it was, the most melodious symphony he’d ever heard. Rounding the corner it was you, his loving wife. In that moment it seems as though all the stress from the day melts away, a small smile graces his lips and his tired eyes close briefly.

“Hello dear.”

Kento wasn’t exactly sure when he fell in love with you, just that at some point he stopped being able to imagine what life would be like without your presence. You became his peace, a ray of sunshine that cut through the darkness in his life. He never believed in karma or fate, but sometimes he’d wonder what he had done in his life to be deserving of your love.

He slips out of his shoes, heavy footsteps and drooping shoulders trudge toward you. He wrapped his strong arms around you, enveloping you in a warm embrace. Kento bends down slightly, burying his head into your hair allowing your scent to permeate his senses. You always smelled so good… A low hum of content emanates from his throat, almost like a cat purring. His arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly close.

“How was your day?” He mumbles into your skin.

“My day was good.” You reply quietly. “What about you?”

“Long. Tiring..” He says with a sigh, pulling away slightly so he can have a better look at his sunshine. His hand reaches to cup your face, thumb making small circles on your cheek. You look at your husband, honey-colored eyes half-lidded, dark circles occupying his face. It was taking everything in him to stand right now.

“Are you hungry?” You muse, nuzzling your face into his hand. He only nods, still looking at you with tired eyes. Taking the hand that held your face you lead him to the dining room. The smell of food wafts through the room, a plate of steak and mashed potatoes, still hot. He takes a seat at the table, eyes lighting up at the dish.

“Thank you, my love.” He says before taking a bite, his eyes closing in satisfaction as the savory taste hits his tongue. He loved your cooking, it was like a balm to his weary soul. He continues eating in silence, looking up at you. You rest your chin in your hands, smiling at your husband.

“You’re not eating?” He says after swallowing.

“I ate before you came home.” A pang of guilt washes over him, Kento knows you probably waited as long as you could hoping you could hold out and wait to eat with him. With all the long hours he’s been putting in, he's barely had time for the one thing that made his life worth living

“I’m sorry…” He reaches for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. You just smile, how did he end up with an angel?

He finishes eating his food, you get up grabbing the empty plate. Kento gently grabs hold of your wrist.

“Please, you cooked let me-”

“You can barely stand Ken.” You’re right, he’s come to find out that you usually are. He sinks back in the chair, too exhausted to protest. After loading the dishwasher you come back into the dining room, your husband exactly where you left him. Fighting off sleep in the chair.

You take his large hand in your smaller one, leading him to the bathroom. Although, Nanami is a serious man, one who was insistent on retiring you when you got married. He secretly loved when you took care of him, your gentle hands working his sore muscles combined with the hot water cascading down his body; he thinks in this moment he could fall asleep standing up.

He looks down at his wife fussing over him, your naked form, suds of soap covering your glistening skin. Even running on 3 hours of sleep the desire in him for his lover burns. His hands roam over your curves, gripping your hips. You pause your movements looking up at him as he pulls you closer, pads of his fingers digging lightly into the fat of your hips. How long had it been since he touched his wife? Made her writhe under him? Far too long in his opinion.

You finish the shower, leading his towel-clad body to your bedroom, drying him off you grab his night clothes from the top drawer. Suddenly bashful at all the attention you’ve been giving him Kento grabs your arm as you try to slip on his pajama pants. You look up at him inquisitively.

“Kento?” He doesn’t answer, just pulls you onto his lap. His large hands holding you in place.

“Darling..” His voice hoarse. Your body shivers in response, even after a year of marriage the sight before you— his chiseled abs, damp blond hair framing his sharp features, his lips parted and pupils blown… It was still too much. You feel the arousal pool between your legs.

“K-kento, you’re tired...” You try to be the voice of reason, but the love of your life looks so damn good right now. He places soft kisses on your chest, setting fire to your skin.

“You’ve been so good to me, allow me this.” He says before trailing kisses up and down your neck. His hands leave your waist, his touch slow and deliberate. His lips ghost over you, landing next to your ear.

“It’s been terrible my love… working all day when I’d rather be here… having you.” His breath against your ear.

“Ken!” You say embarrassed, he was always so blunt when you were having sex. “Just don’t go overboard…” You chide in between moans, your hands find his damp hair, raking through it gently. 

He uses the bit of strength he has left to lay you down on the bed, your back hitting the plush comforter. His hand trailing between your legs, he groans as he feels the wetness between your folds. Your back arches as he brings his digits up to your clit, making slow deliberate circles.

He looks up at you, eyes clouded with lust.

“Honey, I need you.” Is all he says before he buries his face into your cunt.

His tongue darting out to lap up all of your slick. Your darling husband sucking gently on your clit as his fingers tease your entrance. Your moans and whimpers only serve to encourage him. His long finger slides in, curling it upwards to your sweet spot.

“Kento~ s’good” You breathe, one hand snakes up to your stomach, giving the soft flesh a squeeze. His way of saying he heard you. His eyes flutter shut, completely enraptured in pleasing his precious wife. All the paperwork, unnecessarily long meeting with his boss, the entire shit storm of the day all seems to float away as he rests between your thighs.

“So good f’me my love.” He mumbles against your skin. The hand he had on your stomach reaches below to his growing erection. He wraps his hand around his thick length, rutting into his tight fist. He moans against your cunt, imagining his fist were your heavenly walls.

He knows you so well, just by the slight change in your voice he can tell he’s bringing you closer to the edge. His pace quickens, inserting another thick finger into your cunt, your walls flutter around him. Hot squelching noises emanate from your core. He released your clit with a ‘pop’ using the wet muscle to circle around the bundle of nerves. He wants so badly for you to cum, his own pleasure completely reliant on it. Your breath hitches, body spasms as you finally release. Your arousal coating his fingers, he removes them from you replacing them with his mouth. 

He greedily slurps up all the slick from your entrance, humming as your sweet essence coats his taste buds. 

“Kentooo” You whine, slightly overstimulated. You squirm trying to push your lover's head away from your throbbing cunt, he only grunts, strong arms holding your legs in place. Only after he’s had his fill he crawls up to you, resting your head on his broad chest. 

Your husband places kisses on your forehead, stroking your slightly damp hair. He takes deep breaths, helping to pace your own breathing. He looks down at his world, even your blissed out state was irresistible to him. 

“Was that too much for you my love?” He questions softly. You shake your head, a tired smile graces his lips.

“I’ve been neglecting you honey… I’m sorry.” He says apologetically, tracing patterns on your skin. You look up at him, the guilt evident on his face. 

He worked so hard so that you wouldn’t have to, his darling wife shouldn’t have to lift a finger. However he couldn’t bear the thought of you waiting up for him, missing him. The light of his life, so lonely in the big house he bought for her.

“It’s alright Ken.” You offer a gentle smile, of course, you missed your husband, but you didn’t want to stress him out any more than he already was. 

“No. It isn’t.” He said firmly. “I’ll request more days off, I need rest. And I need you.” He holds you tight as if you’d disappear at any moment. His mind was set, you swoon at your husbands' words.

“Good.” You say smiling, he leans down to place a gentle kiss to your lips. He rolls over to his back, the exhaustion hitting him again. You throw the cover onto both of your bodies. Sleeping taking over him quickly. You place a kiss to your husband's cheek before closing your eyes.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬✧ ▬▭▬✧✧✧

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: I Don't Want the Heroine || Ruggie Bucchi

You get isekai’d into what could only be described as an affront to literature, as the second male lead.

So you decide to cut all ties with the heroine and live a peaceful (wealthy) life with your secretary, Ruggie Bucchi. Except life doesn't go as planned as you get more chaos than you signed up for

Series Masterlist

You knew you were in for a ride the moment your so-called "friends" forced you to read the lowest-rated web novel of the year as punishment for losing a bet. And not just any bad web novel—no, this was the Mount Everest of literary disasters. A true champion of trash.

Some reviews said their IQ points dropped by atleast 20 points. Others swore their vision blurred after reading it. One particularly scathing reviewer said, “This book is responsible for my grandma’s untimely passing. She read it and gave up on life.”

So, armed with a drink (or three), you settled in to read. And oh, you were not ready.

The heroine is engaged to the Second Male Lead, a duke with infinite money, charisma, and love to give. He’s the human equivalent of a weighted blanket. And what does she do? She cheats on him with the Male Lead, Duke of the North, who is basically a human icicle.

The Male Lead, by the way, has the personality of a damp rock. His dialogue alternates between monosyllabic grunts and poetic nonsense like, “You remind me of a cloudy winter’s moon.” Sir, what does that even mean?

The villainess? Not even a villainess. Just the duke’s childhood best friend, who’s labeled as "mean to the heroine" because she has the audacity to call out her cheating. Somehow, this makes her evil.

Then there’s the business subplot. The heroine convinces the Second Male Lead to invest in a clearly terrible idea. He pours his entire fortune into it because she fluttered her eyelashes at him, and surprise, it fails. He loses his estate, his reputation, everything.

And does she apologize? Nope. She runs off with the Male Lead to frolic in snowy landscapes while the Second Male Lead becomes a “villain” and, of course, dies tragically.

And Ruggie. Poor, loyal Ruggie. The second male lead believed in him, gave him a job, and supported his family. Ruggie sticks by him until the bitter end, only to die too because this author hates happiness.

You finish the book in stunned silence. “What the actual hell?” you whisper, clutching your head. “Who gave this author access to the internet? Who greenlit this abomination?”

You need to breathe. You grab your coat and storm outside, still ranting under your breath. “If I ever meet the author of this garbage, I’m fighting them on sight. This is a hate crime. This book probably caused global warming. It—”

Suddenly, there’s a low rumble. You glance up, and your blood runs cold.

It’s a rogue truck. Carrying a full mariachi band. And it’s heading straight for you.

“Are you serious right now?” you shout at the universe.

The last thing you hear is a trumpet playing a very off-key version of Despacito before impact.

Your final thought as darkness takes you: I better not get isekai’d.

You wake up in an unfamiliar room, and for a blissful, fleeting moment, you think, Maybe the mariachi band killed me for good. Maybe I'm in heaven.

But then you see the gilded furniture, the obnoxiously large bed, and a wardrobe so stuffed with capes that you feel personally attacked. The truth hits you like a slap in the face: I got isekai’d. Of course. Because the universe hates me.

Then, you see the mirror. And what stares back at you isn’t your face. Oh no. It’s his face. The face of the poor, tragic Second Male Lead. The man destined to be scammed, betrayed, and emotionally wrecked by the most obnoxious heroine in existence.

You scream internally. Then externally. For a while.

You stumble out of the room, still in a haze of existential despair, and there’s Ruggie. Your loyal secretary, who looks like he’s had years shaved off his lifespan dealing with this nonsense.

“Good morning, boss.” Ruggie says, giving you a half-smirk. “Heroine’s asking about that investment again. You wanna reconsider?”

“Yes,” you say immediately. “Cancel it. Pull out everything.”

Ruggie freezes. “Everything?”

“Everything,” you repeat. Then, because you’re feeling generous (and also guilt-ridden because you know what’s coming for this man), you add, “Take 20% for yourself and your grandma. Put the rest back in the bank.”

Ruggie’s jaw drops. “You serious?”

“Dead serious.”

He stares at you for a second, then breaks into a grin so wide it could blind the sun. “Finally! I’ve been waiting years for you to wake up!”

Next, you sit down to write.

The first letter is to the heroine’s family: Dear Sirs, I regret to inform you that I am breaking off the engagement with your daughter, as she has the personality of a wet towel. Kind regards, Duke Idiot.

The second letter is to the Emperor: Your Imperial Majesty, please annul my engagement before I have a nervous breakdown. I am begging you. Also, I can bake cookies. Let me know if you’d like some. Yours in desperation, Duke Idiot.

By the time you’re done, you’re sweating, but it’s a cathartic kind of sweat. The kind that comes from breaking free of your chains—or in this case, an incredibly stupid plot.

Ruggie walks back in, still riding the high of not having to bankroll the heroine’s disastrous ideas. “What’s with the letters?”

“I’m saving myself,” you say dramatically.

He snorts. “Took you long enough.”

The first thing you do after finishing your letters is write one more—to the villainess.

It’s short and to the point: Come over. ASAP. I’m done enabling the heroine. Engagement's over.

When she arrives, it’s with the energy of someone who just won the lottery. She squeals, shakes you so hard you see stars, and pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. “FINALLY! You’ve woken up from the dumbest coma in history!”

You’re rubbing your temples and trying not to pass out from the intensity. “Yeah, yeah, thanks. Now stop shaking me or I’m going to puke on these ridiculously expensive boots.”

She laughs, but finally lets go, sitting across from you as you explain your plan to stop everything from becoming an unhinged dumpster fire. You’re mid-sentence when it happens.

First, the door bursts open, and the heroine comes storming in like a banshee, crying, screaming, and flailing.

“HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?” she shrieks, tears flowing down her cheeks like she’s auditioning for a telenovela.

“Do what?” you deadpan. “Not ruin my life for you? Sorry, I’m on a self-care journey.”

Before she can retort, there’s a second, even louder commotion. You look up, and it’s the Emperor himself. The actual Emperor.

“Oh, wonderful,” you mutter.

The Emperor strides in, looking equal parts amused and concerned. “I heard about your engagement breaking off. Thought you might’ve been possessed. I had to see this circus for myself.”

He’s barely seated when—because the universe hates you—the heroine drags in him: the Male Lead, aka the Duke of the North, aka Brick-Wall-With-a-Sword.

“This is unfair,” the heroine sobs, dramatically clutching the Male Lead’s arm. “He can’t do this to me! You’ll defend me, won’t you?”

The Duke grunts like a sentient tree stump. You guess that’s his version of “yes.”

What happens next is a symphony of chaos.

The heroine screams about betrayal. The Duke grunts out periodic agreements, like a caveman backup singer. The villainess is shrieking threats of peeling their skin off and making it into a fashionable handbag. You’re yelling at everyone to shut up, but no one listens.

Meanwhile, Ruggie peeks in, takes one look at the situation, and immediately decides he’s not paid enough for this. But, because he’s Ruggie, he grabs tea and cookies for the Emperor, who is thriving.

The Emperor pats the seat next to him. “Ruggie, my boy, sit. This is better than court drama. I wish the Empress could see this.”

They sip tea and munch on cookies while you slowly lose your mind.

Finally, you manage to silence the room. You glare at the heroine, who’s still sniffling like you personally ripped up her diary.

“It’s not your choice,” you say flatly. “I don’t like you anymore. Get over it.”

Her jaw drops. The Duke of the North lets out an indignant grunt.

You turn to him. “And you. Take her and leave before I dump water on her and she melts like the wicked witch she is.”

The villainess, not one to miss a petty opportunity, sticks her tongue out at them. You don’t stop her.

The Emperor finally finishes cackling and waves a hand. “Alright, alright. Annulment granted. Good luck cleaning up this mess.”

You turn to Ruggie, and without a word, you both high-five. It’s a perfect, satisfying smack.

The first thing you do after all the chaos is roll up your sleeves and confront the mess that was once "your" beautiful mansion. It’s cluttered with an assortment of hideous gowns, gaudy trinkets, and utterly pointless items the heroine insisted you buy.

A gold fan catches your eye—not because you like it, but because Ruggie is staring at it with the intensity of a starving man at a buffet.

“Take it,” you sigh, fondly exasperated.

Ruggie lights up like you’ve just handed him a winning lottery ticket. He mock salutes you and declares, “My eternal loyalty to you, my lord!” with the kind of dramatic flair that would make the villainess proud.

You almost laugh, but then you remember how fiercely loyal he is. You soften, ruffle his hair, and say, “Just promise me, if you ever get the chance, you’ll run for the hills.”

He frowns, mock offended. “What? And leave your kitchen un-raided? Never! You’re stuck with me.”

Your smile grows wider as you shake your head. “Fine, fine. Stay, then. But only if you keep making coffee the way I like.”

Later, as you’re tossing a truly horrifying pink lace monstrosity into the donation pile, the villainess strolls in like she owns the place.

“You know,” she says, eyeing the mess with an amused smirk, “we should throw a party.”

“A party?” you echo, already suspicious.

“Yes, a party!” she pauses, a wicked gleam in her eye, “To celebrate your freedom from Miss Overinflated Ego and her personal brick wall.”

You bark out a laugh, unable to help yourself. “You know what? Why not? Let’s celebrate. I deserve it.”

The villainess claps her hands in delight. “Perfect! I’ll handle the guest list.”

And, because she’s the villainess and can’t resist stirring the pot, she makes sure to send invitations to everyone: the heroine, the male lead, the Emperor, the Empress, and even the crown prince and the princess.

“It’s always nice to add a dash of drama,” she says, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

You just shake your head. “You’re unhinged, you know that?”

“And you’re just figuring this out?” she quips, already halfway out the door.

As she leaves, you sigh and glance at Ruggie, who’s now holding an ornate vase like he’s trying to figure out if it’s worth pawning.

“This party’s going to be a disaster, isn’t it?”

Ruggie grins. “Oh, absolutely. But hey, at least it’ll be entertaining.”

The rustling in the dead of night was faint, almost like the sound of a guilty conscience, but louder and significantly more annoying. Naturally, you reached for your sword, because what kind of noble sleeps without a weapon under their pillow? Amateurs, that’s who.

Tiptoeing through your dark mansion, you followed the suspicious noise, squinting in confusion as it led you... to the kitchen. The kitchen. Not the vaults, not the study with all the expensive heirlooms, but the place where snacks lived.

You paused in disbelief. Who the hell raids a kitchen? Am I getting robbed by a starving possum?

Creeping closer, you peered around the doorframe, sword raised and ready for battle, only to find—

“Ruggie,” you said flatly, and he jumped so hard he nearly hit the ceiling.

“GAH—! Don’t sneak up on people with a sword, you psychopath!” he yelped, clutching his chest like he was the victim here.

“I wasn’t sneaking, you were sneaking! In my kitchen!” you shot back, lowering your weapon.

Ruggie froze mid-cookie bite, looking every bit like a raccoon caught rifling through a trash can. “...Uh, you weren’t using this stuff?” he said, gesturing at the counter full of pilfered baked goods.

You rolled your eyes and plopped onto the floor next to him, plucking the cookie right out of his hand and taking a bite. “Well, I’m using it now.”

“Hey! That’s mine!” he protested, clutching the rest of his stash protectively.

“Is it, though? Is it really?” you countered, grinning as you chewed. He gasped dramatically, as if you’d just insulted his entire bloodline.

“Wow. Unbelievable. First you almost skewer me like I’m some thief in the night—”

“You are a thief in the night.”

“—and now you’re stealing my snacks?! You’re a menace.”

You laughed, getting up to grab some milk, because who raids a kitchen at 2 a.m. and doesn’t have milk with their cookies? While your back was turned, Ruggie sat there blinking, flustered as hell.

He’d been expecting a lecture, or at least some sarcastic comment about his “hyena instincts,” but you’d just… joined him. Like it was normal. Like you hadn’t caught him mid-cookie heist.

When you returned with two glasses of milk, you sat back down and offered him one. “You could’ve just asked, you know. I would’ve had the cook make you something.”

Ruggie stared at the glass, then at you, his ears twitching slightly. “...Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” he said with a grin, but it lacked his usual confidence.

“Fair enough,” you said, leaning back against the counter with a sigh. The two of you sat there in companionable silence, munching on cookies like a pair of delinquents at a midnight picnic.

And while you were busy enjoying your snack, Ruggie was busy trying not to spontaneously combust. The way you were so chill about catching him red-handed, the way you shared your stolen spoils without a second thought—it wasn’t fair. You treated him like an equal, like a friend, and he liked it far more than he should.

Later, when you finally left, yawning and telling him to “try not to eat the entire kitchen,” Ruggie just sat there for a while, staring at the empty glass of milk like it had all the answers.

He was doomed. So, so doomed.

The state of your estate’s finances is beyond a joke—it’s a full-blown circus, complete with clown shoes and a unicycle on fire. You’re sitting at your desk late into the night with Ruggie by your side, trying to untangle the mess left behind by the original second male lead’s truly impressive levels of idiocy.

“Why,” you groan, slamming your head onto the table, “is 12% of the regional budget allocated to the heroine’s imported perfume?”

Ruggie snorts, peeking over your shoulder at the ledger. “Wait, what? Oh, no, this gets better. Look here—3% for ‘heroine’s nails.’”

You stare at him, unblinking, as your soul slowly leaves your body. “Her. Nails.”

“Oh, but my favorite,” Ruggie says, barely suppressing his laughter, “is this one: monthly support sent to the male lead’s territory. Why? The man’s got a literal fortress of gold up north. What kind of simp were you?”

“A professional simp,” you reply dryly, shaking your head in disgust. “I’m cutting all of this. Every last drop. No more perfume fund, no more nail allowance, and definitely no more donations to the male lead’s Scrooge McDuck vault.”

By the time you’re done, the heroine’s absurd luxuries have been replaced with something actually useful. The funds are reallocated to schools for commoners, infrastructure, and most importantly, your own staff.

When you announce the changes, the staff look at you like you’ve descended from the heavens. One of the maids starts tearing up when she hears about her raise. The head butler—usually so reserved—bows so deeply you think his back might give out.

You should feel accomplished, but the ledger on your desk is still screaming chaos incarnate, and you’re barely halfway through.

It’s nearly midnight when Ruggie silently slides a cup of coffee onto the desk in front of you. He pats your shoulder, his usual teasing smile replaced with something softer.

“You’re doing good, boss,” he says quietly, almost like he’s trying not to spook you.

You’re too sleep-deprived to respond with your usual wit. Instead, you lean into his touch without thinking, resting your head against his side. Your arms wrap around his middle in a tired hug.

Ruggie freezes, a hand hovering awkwardly over your head like he’s not sure what to do. After a moment, he gives in, patting your head gently.

“You okay there?” he asks, voice tinged with a rare gentleness.

“Exhausted,” you mumble, not bothering to move.

You don’t notice the way Ruggie’s ears twitch, or how his grin softens into something almost shy.

“Well, get some rest when you can,” he murmurs, still patting your head like he’s afraid to stop.

You don’t see it, but he looks utterly smitten, like you’ve just handed him the world on a silver platter.

It’s supposed to be a quick shopping trip—in and out, you told yourself. Just something small to thank Ruggie for all his hard work. You’re scanning the shelves, debating between a sleek gold pen and a bottle of spiced honey, when you hear a low, amused voice behind you.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the drama queen himself.”

You turn to find Leona, Grand Duke of Sleep Deprivation, lounging against the nearest shelf like he’s modeling for a Royalty Weekly cover.

“Leona,” you say. “What are you doing here? Buying Cheka another excuse to follow you around?”

He scoffs. “As if. I’m just here for—” He pauses, like he can’t bring himself to admit the truth. “…Supplies.”

“Supplies?” you echo, grinning. “You mean you’re buying Cheka a treat because you’re a softie and love him?”

Leona glares, but his cheeks betray him by flushing. “Keep running your mouth and see what happens.”

You laugh, elbowing him lightly. “Relax, I think it’s cute. A Grand Duke doting on his nephew? Adorable.”

You bumped into Jack not long after, and the three of you somehow ended up making a day of it, wandering between stalls and laughing at Leona’s muttered commentary about overpriced trinkets and Jack’s earnest attempts to justify why buying locally was a good investment.

Then you saw it—a brooch glinting in the sunlight, its design simple yet elegant. It wasn’t flashy, but it reminded you of Ruggie—sharp, understated, and unexpectedly striking. Without hesitation, you bought it.

By the time you returned to your estate and handed the gift to Ruggie, you were grinning ear to ear, excited to see his reaction. He unwrapped it carefully, his eyes widening as he held the brooch up to the light.

“This… is for me?” he asked, his voice unusually soft.

“Of course,” you said, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. “You’ve done so much. It’s just a small thank-you.”

Ruggie turned the brooch over in his hands before looking back at you. “Can you… pin it on me?”

You blinked. “Uh, sure.”

You moved closer, carefully attaching the brooch to his lapel while hyper-focusing on not stabbing your fingers. Meanwhile, Ruggie was not focused on the brooch.

No, his attention was entirely on you—on the way your brows furrowed in concentration, the way your lips pursed slightly as you worked. His chest felt tight, and he was starting to wonder if this was what it felt like to lose all sense of self-preservation.

You finally stepped back, admiring your handiwork. “There. Looks good.”

Ruggie just nodded, his throat too dry to say anything coherent. He could still feel the ghost of your touch against his chest, and it was taking everything in him not to burst into flames on the spot.

You didn’t notice his predicament, thankfully. “Well, back to work,” you said brightly, walking off.

As soon as you were out of sight, Ruggie let out a shaky breath and muttered to himself, “I’m so doomed.”

The villainess was already three glasses of wine in and laughing so hard at her own audacity, she could barely stand. “A rented lion!” she cackled, pointing dramatically at the majestic creature pacing near the garden fountains. “For the aesthetic!”

You, on the other hand, were seriously contemplating your life choices. The massive banner that screamed INDEPENDENCE DAY was hanging crookedly over the ballroom, and the air was thick with the unmistakable aroma of petty vengeance.

“I can’t believe you actually rented a lion,” you muttered, rubbing your temples.

“Oh, please,” the villainess scoffed, swirling her wine like she was the protagonist of a soap opera. “This is art. You think I’m going to let those clowns think they’ve won?”

To her credit, the guests were loving it. The Emperor himself had already burst into laughter upon arrival and was gleefully elbowing the Empress, who seemed equally entertained. The Crown Prince looked ready to dig his own grave, while the Princess had stationed herself with a perfect view, sipping wine and munching on what you suspected was popcorn.

Things were going well. Too well.

The heroine and her brick wall—er, male lead—were nowhere in sight, and for the first time in your newly isekai’d existence, you allowed yourself to relax. You leaned against the wine table, sipping from your glass while watching Ruggie shamelessly stuff his pockets with sweets.

“You know, I would save you some for later,” you began, raising a brow, “at this rate, you’re going to look like a human vending machine.”

Ruggie grinned, unapologetic. “Hey, free food’s free food. You’re lucky I haven’t swiped the centerpiece yet.”

You were about to retort when the sound of clicking heels sent a chill down your spine.

The heroine had arrived.

And, oh. Oh no.

She was wearing a dress so hideous, it was almost a work of art—a monstrous blend of every fashion crime known to mankind. Glitter? Check. Feathers? Double check. A color palette that looked like someone microwaved a rainbow? You bet.

Trailing behind her was the male lead, as stoic and emotionless as ever. You half-expected someone to prop a potted plant next to him just to see if anyone could tell the difference.

The heroine took one look at the massive INDEPENDENCE DAY banner and visibly trembled with rage. For a second, you thought she was going to scream, but instead, she plastered on a disturbingly sweet smile and marched straight over to you.

“Good evening,” she greeted, her voice dripping with false politeness.

You stared at her, torn between running for your life and bursting out laughing. Before you could respond, you caught sight of the Emperor out of the corner of your eye. He was openly pointing at you now, whispering something to the Empress, who was struggling to contain her laughter.

The villainess chose this exact moment to loudly announce, “Thank you all for coming to celebrate the Duke's independence from the worst fate in history!”

The heroine’s smile twitched. You swore you heard her teeth crack under the pressure.

You were just starting to think you might survive the evening when it happened.

The male lead, previously silent, suddenly stomped forward, grabbed a glove from his pocket, and chucked it square at your face.

“Are you kidding me?” you blurted, rubbing your nose.

“I challenge you to a duel,” he growled, his first full sentence of the night.

The room went silent. Somewhere in the back, the Emperor let out a delighted laugh. The villainess looked ready to commit several felonies.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, face-palming. “I guess I have to do it now.”

As the ballroom descended into chaos, Ruggie shot you a glare that could’ve melted steel.

“You better not get hurt,” he hissed under his breath, clinging to your sleeve like a particularly annoyed cat. “I swear, if you let that walking brick wall land even one hit on you—”

“Relax, Ruggie,” you said, patting his hand. “Not only will I win, I’ll make him crawl back and return every penny I sent to his estate.”

Ruggie didn’t look convinced, but he let go, muttering something about how this whole thing was “stupid as hell.”

What you didn’t see was the way his eyes softened as he watched you step forward, or how his hands clenched into fists as the male lead unsheathed his sword.

All Ruggie knew was that he hated this—hated the way the heroine acted like she still owned you, hated the way the male lead had the audacity to challenge you, and most of all, hated the knot of fear twisting in his chest.

He refused to think about why.

The moment the male lead flung his glove at you, the atmosphere in the ballroom turned tense with excitement—or in the Emperor’s case, barely restrained glee. But just as you were resigning yourself to this absurd duel, Leona sauntered over, looking as though this entire situation was a personal insult to his time.

“Real swords? For this?” Leona gestured lazily at the male lead, his lip curling in a smirk. “You’re wasting everyone’s energy. Let’s not pretend this is anything more than a glorified temper tantrum.”

The male lead bristled but didn’t dare argue against the Grand Duke. “Then… wooden swords, if you insist,” he muttered, trying to maintain some shred of dignity.

You tried to stifle a laugh as Leona smirked and clapped you on the shoulder. “You’re welcome, herbivore. Try not to embarrass yourself.”

By the time you all reached the garden, the tension had more or less deflated, and the Emperor had officially declared this the greatest event of the year. He was lounging on a cushioned seat with a glass of wine, while the Princess had claimed the spot next to him, now munching on a small pie she’d somehow procured.

The male lead, as always, had the charisma of a doorstop, stomping forward with all the grace of a falling tree. You picked up your wooden sword, internally thanking the heavens that Leona had stepped in because you weren’t in the mood to lose a limb for someone this dumb.

But just as the male lead was taking his place, he suddenly slipped.

There was a resounding thud as he fell face-first onto the ground.

“...No way,” you muttered, blinking in disbelief.

The heroine shrieked, rushing to his side. “My love! Are you hurt? Speak to me!”

He didn’t. Because the man fainted. From falling.

You froze, staring at the unmoving figure on the ground. The villainess was trying—and failing—not to burst into hysterics, while Leona let out a bark of laughter so loud it startled the lion still lounging by the fountain.

“Seriously?” you said aloud, half to yourself, half to the universe. You weren’t sure if you were horrified, embarrassed, or just... done.

You crouched down to help the heroine lift the unconscious man, despite every fiber of your being screaming not to. “Fine,” you grumbled. “Let’s get him to the carriage.”

As you heaved him up, you happened to catch a glimpse of Ruggie, standing casually by the garden path with his arms crossed. He had an innocent expression on his face—too innocent. And then, just as the heroine fussed over her fainted fiancé, you saw it: Ruggie’s foot subtly nudging a small marble out of sight, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You froze mid-step.

“...Ruggie.”

He blinked at you, all wide-eyed innocence. “Yeah, boss?”

“You didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?”

You sighed, shaking your head as you loaded the male lead into the carriage with the heroine trailing after him. When you turned back, Ruggie was grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

Once you were out of earshot of the heroine, you flicked him on the forehead.

“Oi!” he yelped, rubbing the spot with a pout. “What was that for?”

“Don’t play dumb,” you said, crossing your arms. “Why’d you do it?”

Ruggie grinned again, completely unapologetic. “Well, I am your right-hand man, aren’t I? Gotta look out for you.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “One day, your schemes are going to get us both killed.”

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “But it’s a small price to pay for seeing that guy face-plant into the dirt.”

You couldn’t help it—you laughed, shaking your head as you waved him off. “Fine. Just… no more schemes, okay?”

“No promises, boss.”

The morning was unnervingly quiet. No bustling sounds of Ruggie banging on your door, no sly remarks about how you were sleeping in like royalty—just silence. For a moment, you wondered if you were dreaming.

It wasn’t until you asked the head butler about his whereabouts that the unsettling calm made sense.

“He is unwell,” the butler said with a somber tone. “He has a fever and requested the day off to rest.”

Ruggie… sick? Something about that didn’t sit right with you.

You found yourself standing in front of his door with a tray of soup in hand. The thought of someone as vibrant and energetic as Ruggie being bedridden made your chest ache in a way you weren’t ready to address. With a deep breath, you pushed the door open.

Ruggie looked wrecked. His usually sharp eyes were glazed over, and his hair was messier than usual, plastered to his forehead with sweat. His gaze met yours hazily, and the way his lips curled into the faintest semblance of a smile sent a pang through your chest.

“Boss?” he croaked out, voice scratchy.

You didn’t answer right away, just moving to his bedside and placing the tray on the table. “You look terrible,” you said softly, helping him sit up. “Eat this.”

It took some coaxing, but eventually, he let you spoon-feed him. He was quiet for once, too tired to banter, but the way he leaned into your touch as you adjusted his blanket spoke volumes.

When the soup was finished, you fussed over him—checking his temperature, brushing his hair out of his face, making sure he was comfortable.

And then, without warning, Ruggie slumped forward, his head resting on your shoulder. You stiffened in surprise, but before you could ask if he was okay, his hand gripped your sleeve weakly.

“Don’t go,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. His words were slurred with exhaustion, but there was a vulnerability in them that made your heart clench.

You didn’t have the heart to refuse. Carefully, you adjusted him so he was lying more comfortably, his head still resting against your shoulder as you held him close.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered into his ear, voice softer than you thought yourself capable of. “Not until you want me to.”

When Ruggie woke up in the evening, the first thing he noticed was that he was warm and oddly comfortable. The second thing he noticed was you.

You were still holding him, sitting beside him with your back against the headboard. Your eyes were closed, head tilted slightly, but it was clear you hadn’t left his side.

Ruggie’s face turned an impressive shade of red as he tried to process the fact that it wasn’t a fever dream. He had clung to you, and you had stayed.

You stirred as he moved slightly, your eyes fluttering open. “You’re awake,” you said, voice soft and laced with sleep. “Feeling better?”

Ruggie nodded, his cheeks still burning. “Yeah… uh, thanks for… y’know. All this.”

You smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck. “It’s nothing. Just… don’t get used to it, okay?”

He let out a weak chuckle, though his heart was racing. “Right. Won’t happen again.”

You stood up, suddenly eager to escape the room. “Rest up,” you said, heading for the door. “Don’t make me come back.”

As soon as the door shut behind you, Ruggie buried his face in his hands, groaning. He could still feel the warmth of your touch, still hear the soft way you’d whispered that you’d stay as long as he wanted. His heart wouldn’t stop pounding, and he didn’t know what to do with the newfound realization that he was in way too deep.

Meanwhile, you were in your own room, face buried in your pillow as you screamed silently. Your heart was fluttering uncontrollably, and you couldn’t stop thinking about how warm he felt against you, or the way he’d looked at you so trustingly.

“What was that?” you mumbled into your pillow, kicking your legs in frustration. “What is this? Why does it feel like this?”

The questions swirled in your mind, unresolved, until you eventually passed out from sheer exhaustion, still clutching your pillow like it could answer the million questions in your heart.

The aftermath of The Incident—as you had now dubbed it in the privacy of your screaming brain—was unbearable. If you thought working with Ruggie before had its awkward moments (like the time you accidentally said, “Goodnight, love you,” at the end of a meeting), it was nothing compared to the soul-crushing embarrassment you now lived in.

The atmosphere between you and Ruggie had changed. It wasn’t just awkward—it was the kind of awkward that could suffocate an entire room. If awkwardness could be weaponized, you and Ruggie would have already leveled three kingdoms.

Every time his hand brushed yours when passing papers, your brain short-circuited like a faulty crystal ball. Every time he brought you coffee, your chest felt warm and fuzzy, and not in the “cozy” way, but in the “I think I’m having a heart attack” way.

Just being in the same room as him turned your once-functional body into a mess of sweaty palms and wildly beating heartbeats. When did the genre of this book change from fantasy to survival horror?

And Ruggie? Oh, he wasn’t doing any better. In fact, he might have been worse.

This man had survived the slums, terrifying loan sharks, and whatever unholy concoction the heroine called “breakfast,” but this? This was a new level of torment. Every time you smiled at him, he wanted to kiss you so badly he thought his brain might explode.

Every time you thanked him for doing something as basic as his job, he had to clench his fists to stop himself from blurting out, “Marry me right now, I’ll sign a prenup, I don’t care.”

The worst part? He knew this was a one-way ticket to Heartbreak City. You were a duke—practically royalty. He was… a secretary. A secretary with zero noble lineage and a past so humble it made the word “humble” look luxurious.

His job description did not include being in love with his employer, and yet, here he was, a walking violation of the workplace etiquette handbook.

So, Ruggie pined. He pined so hard it was a miracle he hadn’t sprouted roots. He burned quietly, like a cheap candle from a market stall that melted down into a pathetic puddle of wax.

And you? You weren’t doing much better. Every night, you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and whisper-yelling at yourself. “Why am I like this? Why is he like this? What is happening to me? Am I dying?”

Ruggie, on the other hand, stayed awake at night dramatically sighing into his pillow. “Stop looking at me like that,” he whispered to no one in particular, clutching the imaginary vision of your face. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

The tension was so thick that even the staff noticed. The head butler had started placing bets with the gardener and the knights about who would crack first. The maids whispered conspiratorially about how long it would take before the Duke accidentally proposed during a budget meeting. The chef had taken to leaving heart-shaped biscuits in the break room just to mess with you both.

You both thought you were suffering in silence.

You weren’t.

Everyone knew. Everyone knew. And everyone was waiting for the day this slow-burn disaster finally combusted.

The garden party had started so peacefully. You’d been standing off to the side, sipping on juice and chatting with Jack and Leona, trying to ignore the usual nonsense that came with these noble gatherings. For a blissful five minutes, everything was… fine.

And then chaos erupted.

One second, you were laughing at one of Leona’s grumbled comments about the Emperor's ridiculous hat. The next, you spotted the male lead grabbing Ruggie by the collar, his expression an infuriating mixture of smugness and anger.

You didn’t think you’d ever moved so fast in your life.

Leona and Jack followed closely as you stormed across the garden, your juice long forgotten, your mind set on one thing: getting Ruggie out of that pompous idiot’s grip.

Without hesitation, you grabbed the male lead’s hand and yanked it off Ruggie with more force than strictly necessary. Your other hand automatically went to Ruggie’s shoulder, checking on him. His cheeks were flushed—whether from embarrassment, anger, or both—and he looked like he was about to say something, probably telling you to let it go. But you weren’t in the mood to let anything go.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you demanded, your voice sharp enough to cut through the polite chatter of the party.

The male lead opened his mouth to answer, but before he could get a word out, the heroine appeared, her voice grating like nails on a chalkboard.

“He needs to learn his place,” she said, crossing her arms with an air of entitlement so thick it made your teeth grind. “He’s just a secretary. He refused to fetch drinks for us. He only works for you.”

The sheer audacity of her words made your blood boil. Your hands shook, and you barely noticed Jack placing a calming hand on one of them—or the fact that your other hand had already reached for the hilt of your sword.

“I’ll show you knowing your place,” you muttered, and started to unsheathe your sword.

Jack, ever the voice of reason, gave your arm a small squeeze and shook his head, silently pleading with you to reconsider committing murder at a garden party. For now.

And that’s when it hit you.

Your fury wasn’t just about the insult. It wasn’t just about the entitlement or the injustice of the situation. It was because they’d grabbed him. Ruggie.

You’d been in love with him all along, hadn’t you? And it wasn’t the quiet kind of love, either—it was the fiery, all-consuming kind that made you want to burn the world down for him.

You turned back to Ruggie, who was standing there looking flustered but defiant, his mouth set in a line of determination even as his ears betrayed his embarrassment by twitching slightly.

You did what any sane person would do in that moment.

You grabbed him by the arm, pulled him close, and kissed him.

Right there.

In front of everyone.

There was a stunned silence for a split second before the garden party exploded into chaos. The Emperor clapped like an overexcited seal, practically shouting his delight. The princess squealed, delightedly whispering to her ladies-in-waiting, who were fanning themselves with excitement. Leona looked entirely unsurprised, like he’d been waiting for this nonsense to resolve itself for months.

Ruggie, meanwhile, stood frozen in place, his face as red as the roses lining the garden, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air like he had no idea what to do with them.

Before he could recover enough to say anything, you turned to the heroine, your voice cold and commanding.

“He’s my lover,” you declared, loud enough for everyone to hear. “And I will personally write an official complaint to your family for your insult.”

The heroine’s jaw dropped. The male lead looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. The villainess, who had somehow materialized out of thin air to watch the drama, cackled so hard she spilled wine all over her gown.

You didn’t care. You wrapped an arm around Ruggie’s waist and turned on your heel, marching out of the garden with your still-dazed secretary in tow.

By the time you reached a quiet corner of the estate, Ruggie finally seemed to snap out of it. “What… What was that?” he asked, his voice half a squeak, his face still bright red.

“That,” you said, your voice softening as you looked at him, “was me making it clear to everyone that I’m not letting you go. Ever.”

Ruggie stared at you, his mouth opening and closing like he was trying to find the words, but none were coming. You couldn’t help but grin.

“Take your time,” you teased. “But just so you know, you’re stuck with me now. Hope you’re okay with that.”

He laughed weakly, shaking his head. “Stuck with you? Boss, I think you’ve got it backward. I’m not going anywhere.”

Later that evening, you found yourself in the quiet glow of your study, seated across from Ruggie. He was fidgeting, avoiding your gaze, his usual sharp wit dulled by the tension hanging between you. You had dragged him here after the chaos of the garden party, determined to finally clear the air.

He finally looked at you, and it was like something cracked open in his expression—raw, vulnerable, terrified. “Boss,” he started, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it, “you don’t… you don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?” you asked, leaning forward, your heart pounding in your chest.

“This.” He gestured vaguely between the two of you, his hand trembling slightly. “You’re… you. You’re a duke, you’re incredible, you’re—” He cut himself off with a shaky breath. “And I’m me. I’ve spent my whole life scraping by, looking out for myself. I’m not… someone people keep. I’m not someone people love.”

“Ruggie—”

“No, listen.” He ran a hand through his hair, his words tumbling out in a rush. “You think you love me now, but you’ll wake up one day and realize I’m not enough. That I can’t give you what someone else could. And it’s gonna—” His voice cracked. “It’s gonna shatter me if I let myself believe this could work, and then you leave.”

Your heart ached at the sight of him, the weight of his fears laid bare. This cunning, resilient hyena, who could outwit anyone and charm his way out of anything, was utterly lost when it came to your love.

“I’m not going to leave,” you said firmly, standing and walking over to him.

He let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “You say that now—”

You grabbed his hands, forcing him to look at you. “Ruggie,” you said, your voice trembling with the intensity of your feelings, “do you have any idea how much I ache for you?”

His breath hitched, his eyes wide as he stared at you like you’d just spoken a language he didn’t understand.

“You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re cunning as hell. And you’ve been utterly blind to the fact that I’ve been completely in love with you this entire time,” you continued, your voice rising slightly. “You’ve got this idea in your head that you’re not enough, but you are. You’ve been my priority for a long time now, and there’s no one who could ever match me like you do.”

He tried to pull away, but you didn’t let him. Instead, you cupped his face in your hands and kissed him, desperate and full of all the love you hadn’t been able to put into words.

For a moment, he froze. Then his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and he kissed you back like you were the only thing keeping him alive. It wasn’t graceful—Ruggie never did anything by halves. It was messy and raw and so full of affection it made your knees weak.

When you finally broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, and you could feel his breath on your skin.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you,” you whispered. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I’m yours, Ruggie. Completely.”

His laugh was watery, breaking slightly as he buried his face in your shoulder. “You’re insane, you know that?”

“Probably,” you said, smiling through the tears that threatened to spill over.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You mean it?”

“With everything I am.”

His lips quirked into a shaky smile before he kissed you again, softer this time but no less consuming. When he pulled back, he let out a breathless laugh, wiping at his face with the back of his hand.

“I’m never gonna stop teasing you about this,” he said, his voice trembling but light.

“You’d better not,” you replied, grinning at him.

And for the first time, you saw it—the way he looked at you, like you’d hung the stars in the sky.

The Empress swept into your estate like a regal hurricane, her entourage trailing behind her like obedient leaves in the wind. You barely had time to register her arrival before she was striding up to you, her heels clicking with authority.

“Duke,” she greeted you, her smile warm but her eyes glinting with mischief. “We need to talk.”

Oh no. Those were words that could make even the bravest soul break into a sweat.

She dragged you into a private corner of the drawing room, her grip iron despite the delicate lace gloves she wore. Once you were sufficiently isolated from prying ears, she fixed you with a conspiratorial grin.

“So,” she began, leaning in like she was about to share the kingdom’s deepest secrets. “When’s the wedding?”

You blinked. “...Your Majesty?”

She pouted like a child denied dessert. “Don’t play coy. The whole court saw your little garden party performance. The kiss? The declaration of love? The scandal! It was delightful.” She clasped her hands together dreamily. “I give it five stars. Now, when are you making it official?”

You stared at her, feeling like you’d just been hit by a runaway carriage. “We just confessed to each other two days ago.”

“And?”

“And?!” You threw your hands up, exasperated. “Your Majesty, we’ve barely had time to process our feelings, let alone plan a wedding!”

She sighed, clearly unimpressed with your lack of urgency. “Fine, I’ll give you time. But don’t take too long. The court thrives on drama, and you’re the main event right now.”

Before you could respond to that absurdity, she straightened, her expression shifting from playful to businesslike. “Now, on to more pressing matters. I came here to ask if you’d like to file a formal complaint against the heroine.”

“Oh, you know,” she said airily, inspecting her nails. “For the garden party incident, her persistent attempts to undermine your relationship, the time she cheated on you, and, oh yes, the money laundering."

If you were a better person, perhaps you’d have been moved to forgiveness. Maybe you’d have found it in your heart to let bygones be bygones. But alas, you were not that person.

“I want to sue her to the last penny,” you said, your voice flat but resolute.

The Empress’s smile was nothing short of gleeful. “Excellent. Trial will be held next week. My son, the Crown Prince, will preside over the case.”

“Wait,” you said, frowning. “The Crown Prince? Isn’t that a bit—”

“Messy?” She finished for you, her grin widening. “Of course it is. But what’s politics without a little chaos? Besides, he could use the practice.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, wondering how your life had spiraled into such madness.

The Empress patted your shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Duke. I’m sure you’ll win. And if not, well, at least the trial will be the most entertaining thing the court has seen in decades.”

And with that, she swept out of the room, leaving you standing there, wondering how suing your ex-fiancée had somehow become a royal spectacle.

The trial was absurd. It had all the seriousness of a court proceeding mixed with the dramatic flair of a poorly written soap opera.

Every time the prince asked the heroine a simple question—“Did you steal the money?”—she would dissolve into a sobbing mess, dramatically wailing about how she “never meant for this to happen.” And every time, the male lead would grunt sympathetically, rubbing her back like a mother comforting a toddler who scraped their knee.

It would’ve been almost sweet if they weren’t both complete imbeciles and if the male lead didn’t still have a massive bump on his forehead from his earlier slip-and-faint incident. The man looked like he’d gotten into a fight with a marble and lost. Spectacularly.

You, sitting there in the gallery, were one sob away from walking out. The princess, who was co-presiding with her brother, looked two seconds away from leaning over and smashing her gavel just to make the crying stop.

Finally, the prince, clearly regretting every life choice that led him here, pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to you. “Do you want the money back?” he asked, his voice deadpan.

“Yes, Your Highness,” you said, as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world. “And also the money I sent to the male lead… on the heroine’s insistence.”

The princess blinked. “You gave him money? Why?”

“Because I’m an idiot with too much patience,” you muttered, throwing a pointed glare at the heroine. She sniffled, clearly offended that you didn’t love being conned like a fool.

The prince let out a deep sigh, the kind that said he was done. “Fine. You win. Everything will be returned to you. This trial is over.”

There was a brief moment of stunned silence, interrupted only by the heroine’s gasp. “That’s it?! You’re just taking their side?” she cried, clutching the male lead’s arm like a lifeline.

“I am taking the side of my own sanity,” the prince snapped, slamming his gavel down. “You, will be assigned to community service for your insensitive comments.”

“Community… service?” she squeaked.

“Yes. Community service. Volunteering, cleaning up public spaces, helping out—actual work for people who aren’t you. It’ll be good for your character,” the princess said, smiling sweetly, which only made it worse.

“And as for you,” the prince continued, turning to the male lead, “you’re being sent on probation. In the North. Until further notice.”

The male lead blinked, his hand frozen mid-rub on the heroine’s back. “I have to go back to the North?”

“Yes. It’s cold, it’s boring, and it’s far away. Enjoy.”

By the time the trial ended, you were practically skipping out of the courtroom, feeling vindicated and maybe a little petty. The heroine, meanwhile, was still sobbing, the male lead looked like he wanted to protest but didn’t have the brain cells to formulate a counterargument, and the prince was rubbing his temples like he’d aged ten years in one afternoon.

Justice? Achieved. And it was glorious.

Ruggie had always been good at acting like nothing flustered him. It was practically a survival skill at this point—quick with a joke, quicker with an excuse, and faster than anyone else when it came to running away from situations he didn’t want to deal with.

But despite your confessions, despite the months that had passed, he still treated you more like a boss than a lover. You didn’t mind, not really—he made sure you were fed, handled your schedule with cutthroat efficiency, and somehow managed to keep both the court and your enemies at bay with nothing but charm and underhanded tactics.

The problem was, he still blushed like a maiden whenever you so much as held his hand.

It was hilarious.

The first time you kissed his cheek in front of some nobles, he nearly choked on air and then tried to play it off like you’d just hit him with an unexpected tactical strike.

The second time, you whispered something sweet in his ear, and he almost dropped the stack of documents he was carrying—almost. His reflexes were too sharp for that, but he still shot you a look like you’d personally thrown him off a cliff.

So naturally, when you cornered him in your office one day and asked, "Ruggie, do you wanna marry me?"—you were prepared for some kind of reaction.

You weren’t prepared for absolute silence.

His ears twitched. His tail flicked. His mouth opened, then closed. He looked like a man staring directly into the sun and realizing, all too late, that he had nowhere to hide.

Your heart sank. You weren’t sure what answer you’d expected, but hesitation wasn’t it.

“…Never mind,” you said, pulling back, smoothing over the moment like it was just another conversation. “Take your time.” And because he still looked like you’d asked him to solve advanced calculus on the spot, you reached up, pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, and whispered, "I'll see you at dinner."

Then you left, because you weren’t cruel enough to make him answer right away.

Dinner was… tense.

Not outwardly, no—Ruggie still stole extra servings off your plate, still flicked a pea at you when he thought no one was looking, still made a sharp comment about how the nobles were painfully useless for people who wore so much gold.

But his ears kept twitching. His tail was restless. And when you finally—gently—asked, "Alright, what's up?" he looked at you like you’d caught him stealing from your vault.

Then, slowly, he pulled out a ring.

Not just any ring. It was old, worn with time, but polished with care. A deep blue stone sat in the center, catching the light like the sky before a storm.

Ruggie took a breath, then said, "It’s my grandma’s. Been in the family forever." He hesitated, then pushed it towards you, still not quite meeting your eyes. "I want you to have it."

You stared. Your chest tightened. "Ruggie—"

He shifted, ears flattening. "I only hesitated ‘cause—‘cause I didn’t know if you’d even want it. Y’know. Since you got all this—" He gestured vaguely to your wealth, to the ridiculous palace you lived in, to everything he wasn’t.

That was possibly the dumbest thing you’d ever heard.

You slid the ring on immediately.

Then, with zero warning, you grabbed him by the waist, spun him around like you were sweeping him off his feet (because you were), and kissed him.

The yelp he let out was glorious.

“Oi—what the hell—”

“You absolute idiot,” you whispered against his lips, grinning. “You think I’d ever say no to you?”

He was so red. You’d never let him live this down.

But after a moment, he huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Guess I'm stuck with ya now, huh?"

"You're the one who proposed, Ruggie," you pointed out, smirking.

"...Tch. You asked me first!"

"And you made me wait."

Ruggie groaned dramatically, but there was no real annoyance in it—just affection.

Hand in hand, still bickering, still laughing, you walked back to your office.

This time, engaged.

Jack was the first to react.

The moment the words left your mouth—"We're engaged."—he nearly knocked over his drink in his rush to stand. "Congratulations!" he said, voice full of genuine warmth, his tail wagging just slightly despite his usual composed demeanor.

Ruggie, ever the smug little menace, leaned back in his chair, lazily draping an arm over yours like this wasn’t the most important announcement of his life. “’Course we are,” he said, grinning. “I mean, who else could put up with him, right?”

The casual act might’ve been more convincing if he hadn’t kept sneaking little glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

The Empress, meanwhile, was beyond pleased.

“Oh, this is wonderful,” she declared, practically vibrating with excitement. “Naturally, I shall officiate.”

“Excuse me?” The Emperor raised a brow. “Why do you get to officiate?”

“I called it first, obviously,” she said, as if this was an unquestionable truth of the universe.

“That’s not how that works.”

“It is if I win.”

The room watched in fascinated silence as the rulers of the entire empire prepared to settle this with the most sacred of duels: rock, paper, scissors.

The battle was tense. The atmosphere, electric. The stakes, higher than ever.

And in the end—

“Ha! Paper beats rock!” The Empress shot her husband a triumphant look, eyes gleaming. “Looks like I win, darling.”

The Emperor sighed, but he took the loss with grace, muttering something about “marrying them off in spirit” while the rest of the room moved on like this wasn’t the most absurd thing to witness at a royal event.

The princess wasted no time.

She practically lunged across the table, grabbing your hands with wide, pleading eyes. “Can you invite me to the wedding party? Please? Please? I’ll be so good, I promise.”

“…You’re literally a princess,” you said, raising a brow. “You could just be in the wedding party.”

“Yes, but it’s more fun if you invite me yourself.”

The prince, the only normal one here, merely gave you a polite smile and a firm pat on the back—a little too firm. Ruggie snickered when you nearly stumbled forward.

Leona, of course, was the least surprised out of everyone. He just gave you a lazy grin and said, “’Bout time.”

Typical.

And as you sat there, hand in hand with Ruggie, surrounded by friends (and also an unreasonably competitive royal couple), you had a thought.

Reading that trash novel was the best thing you could've ever done.

Complete Masterlist ; Series Masterlist

It's been a while since I did one of these, who do y'all wanna see next in this series?

[reinreingoawayy]

— before i could kiss you again

part i | part ii | part iii

a longer version of this

sae itoshi x f!reader | slight(?) language | kissing

wc: 1.3k

it was never your intention to kiss the sae itoshi.

it was supposed to be a fun one-week vacation for you in madrid. but circumstances happened and changed when you accidentally met your ex. now, the fun you’re supposedly going to have turned into an unbearable nightmare of trying to run away from his obnoxious ass. you have no intentions of talking or making peace with him especially when the reason for your falling apart was because of a cheating incident a few months ago. many people would know that you give zero fucks about cheating, including him, so when he asked you to get back to him, you scoffed the life out of you and thought he was kidding. and now, you are kissing the most famous sae itoshi in re al’s home stadium, right after their big game against fc barcha, in front of all the cameras, even probably in all spain or even in front of the whole world.

you first met sae on a flight going to Madrid. it was a very rare occasion for you to get upgraded to business class, so when the flight attendant asked you if you wanted to move to a business class seat, you didn’t have to think twice and said yes. you were seated next to the magenta-haired man with weird hair physics who was wearing a black sleeping mask while an ongoing football game was playing on his big screen. before, you didn't know who sae itoshi was. sure, you've heard about his name, and how he is japan's greatest treasure, but it has never occurred to you to know more about him. you didn't know what he looked like or whatever. all you know was that he is, apparently, good at playing football and that he plays in a professional football league in spain.

so when you saw him play, you couldn’t believe your eyes. the man from the plane was the same man your coworkers were crazy about. and when he struck a breathtaking goal that opened the door for re al’s victory near the end of the game, and everyone was rejoicing in re al’s home stadium, you couldn’t help but also join the crowd. hell, you didn’t even know what was going on. when they started chanting his name, you saw him waving his hand up, hyping the crowd to make the chanting louder. there’s a burning passion in his teal eyes as he continues to hype up the people and as his teammates give him a supportive slap on his back.

it was a fleeting moment of exhilarating joy especially when you realized that your ex was just sitting behind you. you don’t even know why he was there right now. as far as you know, your ex never really cared about football, like you before, so you were confused about why would he be there. when you started walking away from your seat, you heard him call your name but you pretended you didn’t hear. he kept calling your name, it was getting annoying. you thought you were clear before that you would never ever give second chances to someone who messed up, especially when the issue was infidelity. when you reach the entrance to the tunnel, you finally face him.

“i do not give a fuck if you want to explain. you cheated, saw it with my own eyes, and that was enough for me. we’re done. now if you could please stop calling my name, there’s someone waiting for me,” you said, with annoyance traced in your voice with every word you spat. you don’t really know who would be that someone waiting for you, all you wanted was to escape from his obnoxious and ridiculous begging. you turned your back again, but this time you felt his hand, grabbing your wrist.

“can you please let go?” you asked. you tried to be polite and civil but it seems like he’s been pushing his limits already.

“please, here me out fi—”

“what’s going on here?” you both look at the owner of the voice and for some reason, you sense a relief in your veins. you removed your ex’s hand from your wrist and gingerly approached sae itoshi. he looks so much better up close with those teal eyes, intently looking at yours, deciphering what’s going on in your head with the way you look at him. he may or may not remember you because you barely interact during that flight except when he lends you his moisturizer because you forgot to bring it. it also looks like he just finished his interview since the cameras are still following him. you’re fucked, you thought. they’re still probably airing and other people may be witnessing what is about to happen.

“sae…i was just about to find you!” you said with a forced smile on your face. you continued approaching him and stopped when you are just one step away from him.

you prayed a million times of sorries in your head before you went ahead and held the side of his face, tiptoeing, before placing your lips against his. you heard audible gasps from the people, a lot of camera clicks, and a bunch of ‘oh my gods,’ when you kissed him. it was usually a normal sight for them to see a football player kiss their significant other but sae itoshi was different. he doesn’t have any dating rumors and has never been linked to anyone so it’s a surprise to other people to see him kiss someone—or rather to see someone kiss him—out in the open like this. he was unmoved when you kissed him and all you could think of was, ‘fuck, fuck, fuck,’ and was ready to pull away but you felt his hand on the small of your back and started responding to your kiss.

your head was spinning and spinning, your thoughts were incoherent, and for a moment, it felt like the world had gone still and silent. his lips were soft against yours and you’d be lying if you thought it wasn’t slightly addicting. you felt him pull away for a second, shifting his head’s angle before diving in again with his lips with renewed intensity. his kisses tasted like mint and strawberries, probably from the electrolyte drink he was drinking before. you felt his hand on your hips as your hand traveled to his slightly damped hair.

someone cleared their throat and pulled you both in reality. you quickly pulled away but stood close, not wanting to see what was waiting around you. and then a flash of light came flashing in and your heart suddenly felt like it was going to explode. he was quick you block most of your face with his hand on the second wave of flashing before making his body as your shield from all the camera shots. he took off his jacket before putting it around your shoulders, gesturing to his manager to accompany you out of the pitch and into the locker room. before you can fully exit the pitch, you look back and see him approach your ex, muttering some words. you’re not good at reading lips but you could’ve sworn he said something along the lines of, ‘…my girl.’

•••

the whole stadium was in chaos, but sae itoshi didn’t care. when you were already far enough to not hear the words he’s about to say, he made his way to your ex’s.

“please stop bothering my girl. i’m only going to ask once,” he said before leaving the pitch.

when he got to the locker room you were in, waiting, he closed the door and stood in front of you.

“i’m sorry—”

“i don’t need apologies. i need explanations,” he said, cutting you off.

you nodded.

“now explain, before i could kiss you again.”

•••

[droaxa]

✧ tags: yandere cheater x reader pt. 2

✧ warnings: violence and force, yandere behavior, descriptions of dismemberment, blood, stalking, police, nsfw content, kissing, angst, smut, breaking in, attempted murder, cuts, dead dove, probably more stuff

✧ a/n: my most requested fic at the moment! i decided to take some of your suggestions and add my own twist at the end + yandere name reveal!

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

yandere cheater wrestles you into his car after he drags you outta the cafe you’re in, unyielding as you try to pull away. the second he shuts the door and jets to the drivers side, you force yourself out the door and sprint down the street.

you hear his yells as you increase your speed, you knew you wouldn’t be able to outrun him for long. not only was he more athletic than you, but a look back revealed his terrifying expression. he was clearly set on catching you, having the advantage in his relatively relaxed clothing opposed to you, who was dressed for a date.

knowing you couldn’t beat him you came to a sudden stop of to the side of the sidewalk and he rammed into your side. stumbling back a few steps you stopped him. eyes wide and hair blown back, he looks at you mildly surprised.

“wha-” you interrupt him this time, taking advantage of his surprise by slapping a hand over his mouth.

you bring on an expression that you think is intimidating, “leave me the fuck alone, i don’t know what the hell you want but i’m not taking you back”

he scoffs like he has you all figured out, taking your hand off his mouth to reveal a smirk underneath. “guess mother dear will find out about your… escapades then”

smack!

you slap him across the face sharply, sound reverberating around you and leaving a tinge of red on his cheek. his mouth gapes as he looks back at you even more surprised, what happened to the mild mannered girl who he had cheated on dated?

“release those anywhere and i will fuck up your life asshole” you fume, hand still in the air as if to threaten him for another slap. “you’re the one that decided to cheat on me with every girl we knew. fucking own up to it”

you were sick of his shit, who did he think he was? you huff out a quiet fuck off as you pass him, shoulder bumping against his. as soon as you rounded the corner you sprint to a nearby parked cab, slamming the door on your way in.

“to the university dorms please”

yandere cheater runs after you too late, rounding the corner as you take off in the cab. poor baby, you were still hung up on him cheating? he didn’t even really like those girls anyway, they weren’t good for anything except their bodies.

but you, you were it for him. he’d do anything to see your cute smile again, to see you whimper on his cock. he felt his swollen cheek, your anger may come in the way of him proving his love, but you’d understand in the end. how deep his love ran. all he had to do was prove was that those girls meant nothing.

two weeks had passed, two long peaceful weeks. your ex finally seemed to give up, the barrage of text messages and calls diminishing to radio silence and constant gifts at your doorstep suddenly stopping. maybe you were more intimidating than you thought.

the second you got home after the encounter, you had called your mother and explained everything. although she did yell at you for a solid hour due her disappointment in you sending out explicit photos of yourself, she understood your situation. after giving her instructions on blocking your ex if he tried to reach out to her you were finally at a peace of mind. at a zen. maybe you could turn a new leaf, you deserved it.

of course you had fucking jinxed it, just when you finally thought it was all over, your ex had tried to force himself back in your life again. deep down, you knew he wouldn’t give up that easy. he’d always be stubborn to a fault.

two weeks after the encounter a small navy present box appeared in from of your new dorm room door. still groggy with sleep you rubbed your eyes and picked up the box, bringing it inside. after contemplating for a minute, you finally decide to open it. in your sleep ridden state, you reasoned that it was probably something you’d left behind at your ex’s house.

it takes a minute to register the contents of the box, but when you do

“OH MY GOD”

you scream and stumble back.

two bloodshot green- brown eyes were pressed into the shiny white silk inside, the area around them a tinge of red. that alone could be passed off as a cruel prank by some immature students but the unmistakable metallic scent of blood lingering in the air said otherwise. that and the only other item in the plush silk: a silver bracelet with the initials ‘e.r’.

only one person you knew owned that bracelet and had those eyes, your ‘friend’ eva. but you had blocked and lost contact with her after you found her and your boyfriend together in the bathroom of the mall. there’s no way she would have just lost this bracelet either, you remembered her bragging about how it was permanent. being soldering together around her hand.

you were nauseous. oh god. you knew it was him, you just knew. sure you hated her but you didn’t want her to die. what the hell, what the fuck do you even do?

before you could think you grabbed your phone calling the only person you could think of.

“can you come over quick, please?”

20 minutes later a dark haired man rushed in through your front door, spotting you curled up in the corner. your eyes wide and still staring at the open box.

“(y/n) what’s going on?” he asks softly, approaching you slowly. you just point to the box and he takes a peek, immediately slapping a hand over his mouth as his eyes shoot open “fucking hell…”

you turn to him, eyes teary “ray what do we do?”

ray was your one real friend through everything your ex put you through, and ironically your ex’s older brother. he was one that introduced you to your ex and thus he blamed himself for letting him hurt you, even though you’d reassured him that you didn’t find him at any fault.

he was reliable and kind, a shoulder to lean on when things got tough. you’d known him for almost two years longer than your ex and honestly if you didn’t meet your ex, the small crash you harbored for ray may have grown. after you met you ex you assumed that your feelings for ray had naturally died out but you couldn’t lie about the strange biting feeling in your chest whenever you saw him.

and even now he was talking care of you, taking you to the police station to talk to the police and turning in the bloody present. a few hours later you both were back in your dorm, sitting on the edge of your bed as you discussed the situation.

“look i really appreciate all this, you didn’t have to come with me to the station”

he smiles, “anytime (y/n), if it’s for you”

you smile back, face a little warm from his answer “that’s sweet”

he moves a little closer, your pinkies now you touching. “you’re sweeter, my asshole brother doesn’t know what he missed out on.” and you swear that you see his eyes flicker to your lips.

“really?” you ask coyly, leaning in slightly.

he nods slightly hesitant “if i had a girlfriend like you i wouldn’t dare disrespect her like that, i-i mean you’re thoughtful and pretty and-” he gets cut off as you lean up and press your lips to his. he immediately freezes up and you take his response as rejection, pulling away. fuck, he was obviously just being nice who even likes their brothers ex?

“i’m so sorry i though-” before you can finish apologizing ray’s lips smash onto yours, one of his hands in your hair to pull you closer and the other guiding your lips to his by your chin. in between heated kisses he mumbles,

“god i was waiting for so long,” a kiss.

“prettiest girl i’ve ever met” another heated kiss. his words of longing slur as he continues to kiss you, pulling you ever closer. his plush lips trail down your neck and to your stomach, slender hand playing at your waistband. his hooded eyes look up at you as his other hand wanders under your shirt. “can i?”

you give him a shy nod and he smiles, pulling down your pajama shorts to reveal white cotton panties. you cover your face with your arm out of embarrassment and he reaches out, keeping your arm down.

“wann’ see your pretty face, waited for it” you nod meekly and he flashes his dimples, continuing to pull down your panties and throw them somewhere behind him. your cute cunt, glistening with arousal was right in front of his face. fuck. gliding a finger up the slit, he watches as the slick from your pussy coats it. fuck.

an hour later he was in heaven, or at least you felt like it. buried deep inside your wet cunt as you moaned and squirmed under him

“ngh- fuck, so good fa’ me baby”

this was the stuff of wet dreams. he speeds up as he feels his orgasm approaching, praises and grunts slipping from his lips as he slams his hips against yours. soft skin against muscle, hot breath on your face from where he was above you. finally he pulls out with groan, wanting to stay buried in your warm. spurts of warm cum shoot up your stomach as he finally finishes.

ray collapses beside you, both of you sweaty and nude as you bathe in the afterglow. weakly, you smile at his tired form as you close your eyes, drifting to sleep in your warm bed.

bang!

you wake up with a start, wearing a shirt too big to be yours. must be ray’s. you look around the dim room and reach for ray, feeling nothing in the space next to your body. did ray… leave? that couldn’t be right. your bare feet hit the wood floor as you step towards your lamp and turn on the light. nothing.

you look around the bedroom and then head to the kitchen, turning the corner and switching on the light. immediately the kitchen floods with light and you gasp. the floor was tracked with blood, a trail leading from where you stood to your bathroom. was he hurt?! you cautiously approach the bathroom, a sharp metallic scent dominates your nose as push open the half open door.

“took a while to wake up didn’t you sleepyhead?”

your blood runs cold. it was your ex boyfriend. if the crazed grin in his face wasn’t unsettling enough the blood smearing on his cheek and splattered across his body sent alarms going off inside you. looking behind him you see the source of all the red.

ray. deep cuts run down his body, clothes shredded, and body half submerged in the now murky red water of the tub. on the tile floor next to him was your kitchen knife, covered in blood. without missing a beat you turned and sprinted to your bed stand, searching for your phone. there’s no way you would make it to the door in time, you needed to call the police and at least save ray.

haphazardly searching your bed and nightstand, you still can’t find your phone. where is it?

“oh lookin’ for your phone?” you turn to him. in his hand was the aforementioned object, light pink case looking uncharacteristically cute opposed to his blood-ridden form. “you’re a pretty deep sleeper hon, i mean i was rummaging around right next to you for this and you didn’t even hear”

“what are you doing raph?” you ask terrified, slowly inching away from him.

in response he approaches you, “what do you think? my girl runs off on me and the next time i see her she’s fucking my brother. you tryna make me jealous baby?” he leans in, expression seemingly amused but you knew better. he was pissed.

“and you’re wearing his shirt too” his large hand plays with the round collar of the tee, fingers ghosting over your collarbones.

“take it off”

eyes wide, you look up at him, “no i won-”

“take it off or he dies” raph’s face is dead serious, no traces of amusement left, stare burning into your face. “you want him to live right? i’ll call the police as long as you take it off”

you hesitate then slowly peel off ray’s shirt, letting it fall to the floor. raph had seen your body before right? it was a small price to pay for saving rays life. the action left you in only your cotton panties as you tried to preserve your modesty with your hands.

raph lets out a low whistle and steps forward, pulling you closer by the curve of your waist. chucking as you shiver due to his cold touch

“already forgot i feel baby? might needa reteach ya”

you look away from him, refusing to see the smug expression playing on his face.

at that moment you felt a wave of self hatred crash over you, why couldn’t you do anything about this? were you so weak that you couldn’t protect yourself, much less ray? but who were you kidding, you weren’t faster or stronger than raph. there’s no way you could get out of this situation with both of you alive without giving into raph.

raph places a rough hand at your jaw, forcing you to look at him. unlike his brother his touch was demanding and rash, the only purpose of it being to prove that you were still his silly girl. no matter how hard you tried to run away.

he coos at your troubled expression “where’s all that fire from before huh?” he grins at your submissive state, the one that he caused. “i’ll be nice, put your own clothes on. quick.”

was he playing with you? you take a look at ray’s shirt on the floor and then approach your closet under a guise of calmness, but a look at your shaking hands would disprove your confidence. putting on a bra, followed by a bottom and a top, then outer wear. anything to put more layers between you and him.

a look up at him reveals that he was already looking at you, probably to stop you from pulling another trick on him. he leans down to whisper in your ear but instead decides to press his face into your neck, inhaling the sweet smell. he mutters, face still in your hair “god i missed you” the sincere tone in his voice scared you the most.

he pulls away, expression distant and somewhat melancholy. “you know if you acted like a good girl from the beginning i wouldn’t have to do this”

before you can question him, his open right hand presses against your face, hard. the other hand supports your head to stop you from pulling away, body trapped. the bitter smell of something pressed on the tissue between your face and his hand floods your senses.

for the second time that night all your senses dull, and everything goes dark.

a/n: i know i know you guys wanted reader to get away from him! i just though this was more interesting then the reader getting back at raph and getting away with it. i like to make my yanderes stubborn loll. hope you liked the twist might write a part 3 ^^

[thisfeelslike-iykyk]

love languages ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

pjo boys x reader (ft. percy jackson, jason grace, leo valdez, frank zhang, luke castellan, nico di angelo, will solace, ethan nakamura) backtrack: "hype boy", newjeans inspiration: I love thinking about love languages (little disclaimer that these are all obviously just my opinion)

percy jackson

giving: acts of service

how many times has this guy risked his life to save the world? percy jackson is a true hero, always putting himself in harm’s way to protect those around him, such as when he chose the prophecy to protect nico. he always takes risks to protect his loved ones, and he constantly puts others’ needs above his own.

receiving: quality time

I guess I based this off of percy spending a bunch of time with rachel before last olympian. but demigods are in constant danger, and percy would cherish every moment he spends with his partner because, unfortunately, you never know when it could be the last. I also thought about acts of service, since he was really grateful when annabeth and grover wanted to go with him on that quest in lightning thief.

jason grace

giving: acts of service

jason’s a giver. he literally joined the fifth cohort to bring back their glory. he sacrificed himself for piper (rest in peace jason, you deserved better) and his whole life has been about serving camp jupiter and later, camp half-blood too.

receiving: physical touch

this might be kind of controversial. I just think jason’s been in such a strict, intense environment since he was a toddler that he’s definitely touch-starved. he probably melts at any physical contact with his partner. I also thought about words of affirmation because he’s always been held to such high expectations, he’d really need someone just telling him they love him.

leo valdez

giving: gift giving

lowkey I put gift giving because too many people were getting acts of service. but genuinely I think leo would love making little trinkets and machines and giving them to his partner. he’s not great at being vulnerable with words or touch, so he shows his love through little actions. similarly, acts of service is also definitely a love language of his; think of everything he did to help calypso after all, even though I hate that ship.

receiving: words of affirmation

this is probably the one I’m most certain about. let’s be honest, leo’s been through so much shit, he’s been called so much shit, that he just needs someone to appreciate and love him and tell him that. plus, he’s so used to rejection that one “I love you” will send him into a spiral for days on end.

frank zhang

giving: physical touch

not entirely sure about this one, I need to reread heroes of olympus. but I bet frank would give the best hugs. you’d feel so safe and warm wrapped up in frank’s arms, and I feel like he’d be the most likely to be physically affectionate with others out of pretty much all the riordanverse characters.

receiving: words of affirmation

the second one I’m most certain about. frank is quite sensitive and definitely needs praise. not needs as in he’s an attention seeker, but needs as in he blushes bright red and smiles super wide when someone praises him. it just makes him feel so warm and fuzzy inside.

luke castellan

giving: acts of service

luke is like the embodiment of the statement “a hero would sacrifice you for the world, but a villain would sacrifice the world for you”. he did everything that he did in order to build a better world; I genuinely believe he thought what he was doing was right for the greater good. and he brought back the titan lord and fought a war for a cause he believed in--what lengths would he go to to protect his partner?

receiving: words of affirmation

luke’s never received any sort of praise or recognition; it’s part of why he resented the gods so much in the first place. if he could have someone with him just to pick him up when he’s down, to encourage him and shower him with praise and love, he’d be so happy. although I like to think he’s a touch-starved baby who’s really clingy with his partner too.

nico di angelo

giving: quality time

nico’s not a talker, he’d much rather listen or sit in silence with his partner. spending a lot of time with his partner would let nico feel closer to them. there’s a special sort of connection and understanding that comes from shared experiences. acts of service was also another contender. nico would do everything for those he loves. take bianca, for example, and how hard nico tried to bring her back in battle of the labyrinth.

receiving: physical touch

another touch-starved one. he was taken out of time for seventy years, came back and lost his sister in like five days, went through two wars, had to deal with coming to terms with his sexuality; the poor guy has been through tartarus and back (literally). poor nico. someone give him a hug. I also thought about words of affirmation, since nico constantly struggles with being isolated and would probably really benefit from some reassurance and support.

will solace

giving: acts of service

I mean, he’s literally a healer. he does everything for others. enough said, really. he puts others’ wellbeing first, and in the process sometimes overlooks himself and his own needs. which leads to. . .

receiving: acts of service

will is so used to people taking care of him that he never asks for help when he needs it. the little things, like helping him out when he’s tired, is the way to his heart. no one’s ever really looked out for him since he arrived at camp half-blood, and he had to take over the apollo cabin when he was barely a teenager. it’d be nice for him to have someone take care of him for a change.

ethan nakamura

giving: acts of service

I don’t know why so many characters have acts of service as a giving love language. maybe it’s because they’re heroes and fight and do stuff for their respective causes, so naturally they give off a giving or take-action vibe? but anyway, ethan fought and gave his life in order to gain his mother--and himself, honestly--more recognition. he takes action for those he cares about and always wants to defend his beliefs and help his friends, even though his ways may be a little questionable.

receiving: words of affirmation

really similar to luke. ethan’s always been undervalued and overlooked. he just needs validation and support. encouragement and praise would help him finally feel acknowledged, accepted, and valued.

I wanted to post this on valentine's day but I got too excited

divider by @cafekitsune

taglist: @loveinalocket, @raysmayhem-72

[pineconepie]

Parental yandere mafia dad who kidnaps you takes you in <3

TW: Mentions of death, platonic yandere, forced age regression, infantilization

...

You know this is stupid, but you have no choice in the matter.

The worst thing is, its not even your fault you're in this situation. A family member made some horrible choices with a huge, well-known mob, and they died before they could pay off the debt they owe.

So, it falls on your shoulders now.

They said if you could do some favors for them, they'd let you live a peaceful life and never bother you again.

But either way, it seemed like death was almost inevitable.

"Hey person who has no experience with mob bosses and cartels, go gather intel on one of the world's most feared mob boss without getting caught! We're sure you'll do great!"

You're sure they're aware you probably won't turn up alive.

That's besides the point. You had a job to do.

And this is why you've found yourself here, entering a huge building with obnoxiously bright neon lights, the air smelling heavily of alcohol.

Its both a casino and nightclub, you figure, as you see a few gambling tables along with a large dance floor, and a bar in the far back. The ground is a little sticky beneath your shoes, and some weirdo bumps into you, clearly drunk.

The guy they asked you to gather information about is none other than Vincent Brewer. From what you've heard, he's ruthless, sadistic, fearless, and loves to flaunt his wealth and success.

His group, Cryo, dabbles in a little bit of everything.

Selling guns, manufacturing weapons, running casinos, killing those that piss them off... All things like that.

So of course, you're terrified out of your mind.

But you manage to make it past the bouncer and enter inside.

Its a nice place, despite all the crimes you're sure happened here. A lot cleaner than you'd expect for such an area.

Almost immediately, you see none other than Vincent himself.

He has short blond hair, hazel-green eyes, and a black suit with a trench coat draped over his shoulders.

He's smirking as he talks to what you presume are other members of Cryo. Vincent is pretty well-known for that smile. It's rare he ever drops it.

You wonder if its because he genuinely finds joy in anything and everything or because he feels the need to come off as tough or domineering. Knowing how much power he wields, it's probably both.

There's no time to stand and stare, though.

You approach, pretending to be one of them, but before you can back out and regret your decisions, he already has his eye on you. You feel like a rabbit trying to convince a den of wolves that you're one of them. And this is the biggest, meanest, hungriest wolf in the world.

"Well, hello," Vincent says. His smile doesn't leave his face, but softens a tiny bit. He looks you up and down. "I don't believe we've met. Are you new?"

Your hands are clammy and trembling, but you put on a fake smile and offer to shake his hand. "Yeah! I'm... (Y/n)." For a moment, you hesitate, considering maybe you should give a fake name just in case, but looks like it's too late for that.

Now that you think about it, you're definitely sure you were sent on a death-mission. Those people didn't even give you proper training.

"(Y/n), huh?" Vincent asks, shaking your hand. He's got a firm grip, as you expected. "Nice to meet you, kiddo. You seem a bit young to be one of my recruits, though." He brushes some hair out of your face, making you tense.

"I guess I look a bit younger than I am," you mutter. "I'm an adult, if that's what you're worried about."

He laughs at that. "Well, that's good! I'd hate to hear how a kid ended up with us!" Then he ruffles your hair, which is a bit embarrassing, but he seems so nice about it that it's not unbearable. "You're just a baby compared to almost everyone in this room. I think I'll need to tell the employees to make sure you don't drink or gamble. That's for grown-ups."

You relax when you realize he's teasing you.

Maybe that's a good sign? "It's okay, I don't really do either of those often, anyway."

Vincent lets out another chuckle, putting a hand on your back, leading you through the crowds and towards where the tables are. There's lots of other people sitting, talking, drinking, laughing. Playing cards or chess or something like that.

Just a bunch of regular casino things.

So far, so good.

This might actually end up working out after all...

"So why exactly did you want to join us?" Vincent asks as he sits you down at one of the chairs, pulling his own chair up next to yours. "Come from a wealthy family? Orphans? Wanted to get off the streets?"

You rub the back of your neck awkwardly, thinking of a suitable lie you'll remember for later. "Ah... I needed the money... Medical bills and stuff. Don't have any family to rely on anymore. Thought maybe if I could save up enough money, I wouldn't need to worry anymore..."

It's kind of true. After you get the information, they said they would reward you with enough cash to pay off whatever was still owed.

But whether that will ever actually happen is yet to be seen.

The more pressing issue was how Vincent would react. So far, so good. He hasn't questioned anything. Just nodded his head sympathetically and hummed at your explanation.

You continue. "And plus, Cryo seems really cool. No pun intended."

"Well, that's nice of you to say," he replies with a laugh. "We try our best around here. You seem a little jittery, though. I hope I don't scare you, kiddo?"

"I mean..." You can't really admit the real reason without outing yourself. He sounds like a man that wants to be feared by everyone. "I think this is just a new environment to me. I don't do too well with crowds."

Vincent nods understandably, patting your shoulder. "Makes sense. It is kinda noisy in here, huh? Sorry about that. Normally we're not like this, but tonight is a party night since we made a pretty big deal recently, as you're aware."

You nod, pretending to know what he's talking about. "Oh, yeah, I heard about that." This means you've already failed step one of your task - being updated on current deals - but that's okay. There's plenty of time to get the intel later. Right?

His eyes darken slightly, but his smile never leaves. "And besides... Can't say we're the nicest group of folks, either." He pokes your cheek and laughs again. "I'm worried this might be too much for you."

"Really, its okay!" you argue. "I'm a lot tougher than I look, I swear!"

He snorts. "You look like a puppy surrounded by wolves. Even if you're tougher than you look, it makes you an easy target. People are gonna be more quick to try to take you out instead of someone bigger than them."

Is he insulting you or genuinely concerned? You hope he's joking and teasing again. "I'll prove I'm strong enough to fit in! You won't have to worry about me one bit. And I can help out Cryo a lot, I promise!" You don't know why you're getting defensive over his condescending tone.

Vincent only seems amused by it, more than he already was. He pinches your cheeks between his fingers, smiling sweetly down at you. "Ohh, I'm sure you're veerrry strong, sweetie."

He sounds patronizing, in that overly-sweet way, as if speaking to a toddler.

He rubs your cheek a few times before leaning back and releasing you. "I think I'll let you stay if you answer one question for me, how 'bout that?"

You nod. "Of course. Anything."

His smile becomes more sharp. "Who sent you?"

"W-what?" Your mouth feels dry. The whole mood shifts, and suddenly it feels much less welcoming, making your stomach churn in panic.

Did you get caught that easily? How did you mess up? Maybe he's just bluffing.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Vincent stares down at you, eyes now narrowed. "You aren't fooling anyone, doll. We have extensive background checks before any of our members can even begin to be considered eligible for recruitment. I personally meet every single one of our new recruits to approve them and remember all of their names. Not only that, but I lied about a recent deal. There was no recent deal."

Your heart starts beating faster in your chest. You feel cold sweat dripping from your forehead.

He saw through you so quickly. Does he already know why you're here?

If you lie again, you're not sure you'll make it out of here alive. "Scarlet Syndicate sent me. I owe them debt, I'm not part of them... please don't kill me."

The man snickers and leans back against his chair again. "Oh, you poor thing. Its pretty clear they aren't expecting you to come back to them with info. They probably sent you here to die or get lost and forgotten about. That's cruel, even by my standards. They set you up for failure." His voice softens up. "You're shaking..."

You're hyperventilating a little, panicking. "I don't wanna die."

Vincent coos at you gently, wrapping a secure arm around you and pulling you into his lap. "Shhh, shh, hey... relax, kiddo, I'm not gonna kill you... I would never hurt such a precious little sweetheart." He kisses your head. "Calm down. Breathe in, breathe out..."

You listen to him and do as instructed.

Taking in deep breaths through the nose, letting them out from your mouth slowly. He rubs gentle circles along your back until you relax against him. He secures you in a firm hold and lifts you up against his chest.

Even for a mob boss, he has an impressive amount of strength to carry you with almost no effort.

You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck.

He smirks at you again. "Aww... does baby wanna be carried everywhere now?" Though its teasing, its also affectionate. You find yourself nodding regardless.

Vincent walks out with you still in his arms, ignoring his colleagues' confused gazes. You can see the exit sign coming closer and closer.

Once you leave the building, he puts you inside a limousine with him, shutting the door behind. He gathers you in his arms after shedding his long beige trench coat, wrapping it around you and engulfing you like a blanket.

This man you hardly even know just called you 'baby.'

You're not quite sure what to make of that.

"Home," he tells the driver. And then he looks down at you. "You really are a little baby, huh?"

You don't know how to react to this sudden display of parental behavior, except stare in confusion.

He pulls you into his lap. "I always wanted a kid of my own, you know. But unfortunately, fate decided I couldn't have any of my own. Well, guess it doesn't matter now!" His eyes flicker across your face. "As soon as I saw you, I could tell you needed someone to take care of you. Like a dad."

"But..." you sniffle. "I'm not a kid."

"Maybe not physically, but I can tell mentally. And you should be grateful for that. I usually don't let any spies live long enough to see another day," Vincent says. "So what do we say?"

You hesitate. "...thank you?"

"You're very welcome, munchkin. When we get you home, we'll have some late dinner and then its bedtime for you," Vincent coos.

"I usually go to bed a lot later than this," you protest.

"Nope, not anymore," he argues back, petting your hair. "As much as I want to be the fun dad, rules are rules. Bedtime will be 8:30 PM for you everyday starting from now on, got it?"

You guess you don't really have a choice.

Not in a million years did you expect this outcome of you being caught spying, but hey, its better than death by gunshot!

The limousine stops outside a huge penthouse.

Vincent carries you out of the vehicle and holds your hand as he leads you to the elevators. Inside, there's a deskman who waves at him. You shyly wave back, a bit unsure.

"This is (Y/n). They'll be staying with me from now on," Vincent explains to him. "If you see them trying to leave without me, call security and tell them to escort them back to my place. And notify me."

"Yes, sir," he agrees, then looks back at you. "Nice to meet you (Y/n). I'm August. If you need anything, feel free to ask!"

You stare at him, then Vincent, dumbfounded.

Vincent pulls you along. "Come on, baby. Let's go home."

Inside the elevator, you're left in shock, speechless. It goes high up - the top floor - before arriving at a large, fancy room.

He unlocks the door to reveal his apartment.

The entire thing is covered with plush rugs, sleek furniture, shiny marble floors, beautiful lights... Everything you'd expect in a multi-millionaire's home, including but not limited to a grand piano sitting in the middle of the living room and two full-size couches in front of a flatscreen TV, and what looks to be some kind of bar or wine cabinet.

"You can explore more tomorrow," Vincent tells you. "Until then, let's get dinner over with and then bedtime. Tomorrow we can discuss how you want your room to look like, clothes, toys, that stuff. Sound good?"

"Yeah," you mumble in agreement.

Vincent sets you down on the sofa, where you watch him grab a remote off of the coffee table.

He turns on the television and flips through channels before settling on something he deemed suitable, which happens to be some sort of children's cartoon.

He begins cooking in the other room, and you're still in too much shock to even think of trying to escape.

This all feels so surreal.

Twenty minutes later, he calls you into the kitchen and has you sit down next to him while he serves you both food.

It's decent, his cooking skills aren't amazing, but decent. You don't mind eating it, though he does give you a stern look when you don't eat all your vegetables.

Afterwards, he guides you upstairs into what appears to be the guest room, saying he'll redecorate it to fit you later. He excuses himself for a moment, coming back with yellow silk pajamas for you to change into. You do so as he turns around to give you some privacy.

When you finish dressing up, he has you brush your teeth, then wash your hands thoroughly. Finally, he helps you climb into the bed, tucking you beneath the blankets.

You can't help but admit that the mattress is really nice.

Vincent smiles down at you kindly. "I'm glad we found each other today, kiddo." He kisses your forehead. "Dad will stay here until you fall asleep, yeah?"

Of course, you don't argue. He watches you like a hawk until eventually, you close your eyes and drift away.