#longest third date

[thoughts-rambles]

Belphegor slept to avoid the truth. His world never felt the same after he fell. He lost his sister to a war, his brother to the prince of hell, and his freedom to a human he'd never even met. His dreams were a way to escape all of that. I mean, he didn't have to think if he wasn't awake. Why would he choose to live in a world that would only take from him? He had more than enough time, not like anything truly eventful would happen- not anything good anyways. There was just no reason to stay awake anymore. He could only tear his eyes open for so long before his sin would whisper to him to give in. Give in to a world of his design, one where he could think of good things, or nothing at all.

And then you came along... the human that stood for everything he hated. He watched you fall for his tricks, watched you take advantage of his brothers- watched you die. He couldn't believe it when he realized he'd watched you go from being killed by him to forgiving him to loving him in real time. How could you? How could he? He couldn't let himself be hurt again. Humans have only ever brought bad news, and falling for one would be a death sentence. But even then, he couldn't help falling helplessly in love with you. Your love seemed so inviting, no wonder you had all of his brothers under your spell. They didn't resist it- and they were fine- so maybe he could indulge in this hopeful feeling one last time.

There weren't many reasons for him to stay awake, but with you by his side the voices lulling him to sleep seemed to weaken. Their torturous way of comforting him was no longer necessary; the coldness of his sin being truly evident when compared to your warmth. So he could stay awake, even if it was just a little bit longer, just for you.

[annalu86]

Third date.

The door, quietly, clicked shut behind Lucy as she finally made it home.

It must be at least 1am, she hadn’t been keeping track, the apartment was dark and still. Tamara hopefully tucked up peacefully in bed, none the wiser and Lucy’s secret in tact.

A shiver of excitement ran down her spine as she thought back over the last few hours, without thinking her fingers traces over her lips. Feeling the, still slightly swollen, skin all traces of lipstick long since gone.

Her night had started hours before.

She had changed out after her shift was done, she had brought a simple T-shirt and a well worn pair of jeans. Showered, put them on and pulled a drag of lipstick across her lips.

“Any plans tonight, Lucy?” Angela had asked as Lucy had walked out of the locker room, casually swinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Probably just laundry and an early night” she had effortlessly lied and her friend had no reason not to believe her. She had smiled and told Angela to kiss Jack goodnight for her and carried on her way. Out the door and to the parking garage.

She wound her way through the structure, nodding greetings to familiar faces as she made her way to a dark corner. Her heart rate soared as she spotted the truck she was looking for and as she locked eyes with the driver a grin split across her face, she stopped in her tracks before taking a deep breath and carrying on.

Lucy opened the passenger side door and climbed in, immediately turning to face the driver.

“Hi” he reached over and took the bag from her arm. His fingers burned as they trailed down her skin, he leant over and carefully put it on a back seat.

“Hi” she breathed.

Tim was still for a moment as they just smiled at each other “Good day at work?” He asked and she laughed.

“Hmmm I guess, this guy I work with can be a bit of a jerk sometimes though”

“Oh really? How so?”

“He has all these tests for me, he’s not even my training officer any more”

“Well he sound great” Tim puffs out his chest “and very handsome”

Lucy makes an unconvinced sound and Tim pretends to be offended

“He’s alright, I guess” the truck is so large that when she reaches across to kiss him quickly she needs to place her hand on his thigh for balance and it’s not lost on her when a murmur escapes his lips before she closes the gap and lays her gently on his.

But the parking garage at their shared place of work is not the place for this, so she pulls back, sits down and puts her seat belt on.

“So, what are you making me for dinner?”

The journey to Tim’s house isn’t long and they chat easily about their day, funny things Angela has said about her mother in law and how Nolan’s rookie is doing. Being driven around by Tim feels so comfortable and familiar that she forgets that they are actually on their way to their third date until he is pulling up outside his house.

She has been to his house before, of course. As a colleague, as a friend even but never as… as…

Could she think of herself as his girlfriend? He hadn’t called her that yet so maybe she shouldn’t either.

They weren’t friends with benefits, they hadn’t slept together yet.

But you don’t make out with friends for hours and talk about having grandkids together.

Tim opening the car door for her brought her back to the present

“Everything ok?” Tim’s piercing eyes locked with hers as she lowered herself out of the truck

“Yep” she smiled brightly “just thinking about something, ill get your thoughts after dinner though. I’m starving”

Tim led the way into the house and through to the kitchen, stopping to make a quick fuss of the dog before getting two wine glasses out of the cupboard and placing them on the counter.

“Reds in the rack” he says gesturing to his left “whites in the fridge, you choose” as he gets to work readying their meal.

Lucy pours them both a large glass of red wine, she doesn’t ask what they’re eating and instead goes with Tim’s favourite as he is driving her home later and will only get the one glass.

She sits on the sofa, Kojo’s head on her lap, she could fall asleep listening to Tim’s busy sounds from the kitchen and for a moment she lets her eyes close. She lets her imagination wonder, picturing this very scene. Picturing it as her reality everyday, coming home together, taking it in turns to cook. But in her imagination Tim can have a second glass of wine, there’s no need to drive her home, she is home.

She’s lost in her thoughts until Tim plants a gentle kiss on her forehead

“Are you that tired? I can just take you home if you need to get to sleep” she opens her eyes into his concerned face.

“Not at all!” She insists, then blushes slightly “I was actually just imagining what it would be like to do this more often”

“Sleep on the sofa?” He teases

“No” she rolls her eyes “come home with you, cook together, curl up on the sofa and watch a film with a bottle of wine”

“That does sound nice” he comes round to sit next to her, gently pulling her up against him “maybe staying the night”

“Definitely staying the night”

All thoughts of dinner are forgotten until Lucy finally notices a timer going off in the kitchen. She slides both her hands up to his shoulders and pushes as firmly as she can, from underneath him. She may have suggested they wait a while for ‘naked time’ but in the meantime they are finding plenty of ways to occupy their time. And their hands.

Tim groans as he peals himself off of Lucy and sits back up, her t shirt is rucked up and his large hands had covered the warm skin. Lucy pulls it back down as she sits up.

“Dinner ready?” She asks, a blush spreads rapidly over her face as she realises Tim is still sitting, near motionless, on the sofa. He’s clearly taking a moment to compose himself before going to deal with the timer and she relishes the effect she has had on him.

Dinner is delicious. The meal Tim has produced is quite simple but it’s just what she needs. They talk about their plans for the week, a case that has Tim stumped and a new sushi restaurant that Lucy is dying to try. She finishes off a second glass of wine and watches as Tim pours her another. She thinks about teasing him that he’s trying to get her drunk but he’s so respectful of her choice to wait that she doesn’t want to seem mean.

Together, they clean away the dishes and once again Lucy gets caught up in the effortless domesticity of the moment. As they move easily around each other she can’t help but watch his body, how tall he is, how strong his arms are. Ok maybe she is feeling a little tipsy.

“So what we’re you thinking about in the car earlier?” He breaks her reverie

“The car?”

“You said you’d tell me after you’d eaten” he pressed

“Oh yes!” Trills Lucy, emboldened by the wine “I was thinking about what I am”

Tim raised an eyebrow are her, tilting his head “a police officer?” He asked clearly confused.

“No!” She laughed “ to you”

“To me?” No idea what she was talking about

“What I should call myself”

“Other than Lucy?…” his eyes widen, just barely “what you should call yourself”

“I know we aren’t going public yet” Tim opens his mouth to interject but Lucy carries on “which is absolutely what we both want” then quickly “right?”

Tim nods, knowing she hasn’t finished yet “but I was thinking”

“Lucy” Tim, interrupting firmly this time with a hand placed on her shoulder “you’re my girlfriend. Unless you don’t want to be?” The grin on her face tells him everything he needs to know “Drunk girlfriend Lucy is hard work” a devilish smile spread across his face as his girlfriend hits him on the shoulder.

“I can leave you know”

“But I don’t think you want to” which earns him a second punch to the shoulder.

They curl up together on the sofa, they tease each other and they kiss. They talk work and family and even a little about past relationships.

Until Tim finally notices the time 11:30pm, time to get Lucy home.

“Lucy” he brushes a stead of hair from her face and behind her ear and she sighs happily “it’s time I drove you home”

She begins to protest but Tim simply points to the clock and the words die in her mouth. They quietly gather up her things, so as not to wake the sleeping canine, Tim slips on a hoodie and grabs his keys.

The journey back to Lucy’s apartment is mostly quiet, a full day at work and the late hour seemingly catching up with them both. Tim pulls up out side and turns off the engine, neither make a move to leave the car. Wanting to eek out as much time alone, together, as possible.

Tim watches as she leans across the centre console, placing a small hand on either side of his face and kissing him deeply, she pulls back a little and her eyes bore into his soul

“Thank you for tonight, it’s been…” she searches for words for a brief moment “perfect” she leans in once again to place a gentle kiss to his lips but his hand rises and winds through her hair and it’s like that they are lost.

It’s at least 20 minutes before Lucy breaks the kiss and they surface, properly, for air. Both taking shuddering breaths, Lucy rubbing her leg. It had not been the most comfortable position but they both seemed to think it was worth it.

“I should go”

“Yes” Tim agrees resolutely, pushing the truck door open and meeting Lucy at her side of the truck “do you want me to walk you up to your door?”

“No, I’m fine. Anyway, I’d probably end up inviting you in and then we’d be having a really awkward conversation with Tamara in the morning!” Tim couldn’t help the groan that escaped his lips “and you didn’t have to deal with her after she walked in on our ‘practice’ kiss so I’d leave you to do all the talking”

“Ok,ok!” And he smiled as Lucy laughed, this may only be date three but they both new Lucy was going to win all their fights “I’ll say good night to you here then” with a wicked smile on his face he crowds her against the truck door and it’s another 20 minutes before they once again finally emerge from the kiss.

As Lucy lies in her bed, oblivious to the eyes that saw just enough of her goodbye with Tim to put everything together, she thinks about the next date and the one after that. The 100th date and 1,000th.

She finally falls asleep with a contented smile on her face.

[mechazushi]

Iharu's Day Out {co-staring Dadka} (A Kn8 short story)

Preamble] So I've got this idea for a series of {what was supposed to be short?! Don't know where all this came from} one-shots about Kaiju n.8 that are all about Kafka interacting with one member from the third Division because we only really see him talking to Reno or Hoshina most of the time and not a lot of the rest of the team gets much more screen time. I don't know how often I will be posting these and they will NOT be in chronological order. The time frame they will be taking place in is after everything is over (Number 9 is dead, Tachikawa base is rebuilt, the public knows about Kaiju n. 8, and the original members of Division Three are back together.)

Notes] Alcohol, implied off screen sex act, minor law breaking, pining IharuxReno, background HoshinaxKafka, implied HaruichixAoi, confession, basic tomfoolery, uncensored swearing.

Summary] Iharu's plans with Reno get derailed when Reno has to leave on a mission just before they have to leave. Depressed and dejected, Iharu heads back to the barracks to drown his sorrows in food... only to have that plan as well get derailed by Kafka.

#########################################

This was the third time in thirty minutes that Furuhashi had changed his outfit. Finally landing on white high tops, black camo jeans, a black leather jacket and a white graphic anime tee. He kept going back and forth on the tee, debating on whether or not it made him look like he was too childish. Iharu spent an extra minute mentally kicking himself for not bringing more casual clothes from home when the base got reopened. Then again, asking Reno out to a movie date was pretty spur of the moment at the time. He caught himself mid thought and placed his hands on either side of the closet that was designated to every member of the Division. "Not a date. Movie night-. It's... a movie night. This is to see if this could lead to a potential date. Yeah, just... focus on that right now."

Knocking him out of his thoughts was a very distinct ringtone. Iharu had spent a lot of time messing around in the settings on his phone and was very proud of himself when it came to the songs he picked for each member of the Third Division. Aoi was the theme song from Cops, Kikoru's was the Nightcore version of Pretty Little Psycho. The one that was playing now was Cold as Ice by Foreigner. A little on the nose, considering who it was attached to, but nonetheless fitting for person who he thought was the coolest guy on the force.

Reno☃] Hey. Can we talk?

Reno☃] Somethings come up.

############################################

"Sure. Sounds fun."

Iharu played Reno's response to this movie night plan over a week ago in his head over and over, taking his chilled and plain response and visualizing it as a bat to beat himself and this unfortunate event the two over them have gotten themselves into.

"Last minute dispatch to the mountains. Sorry Iharu." Reno had said, wanting to give him the bad news in person as he sat on a bench in a locker room and laced up his boots over his tech suit.

"Guess that means you'll be back late then, huh." Iharu leaned against a locker, arms folded and looking into the distance through the doorway. He didn't want Reno to see the disappointment. Not that seeing it would change the situation, just didn't want make Reno feel bad over the fact that, not only is he leaving Iharu behind, but he has to take a rain check on their date movie night- it was supposed to be a movie night, Iharu had to remind himself. He didn't feel like it was fair to take his crush/rival out on the town and call it something so loaded without seeing if the feeling would be returned.

"Yeah. Sorry." Reno picked up his bag and started to walk pass Iharu. "Movie will still be there tomorrow. Right?"

Iharu tried to school his expression into something more optimistic to mask his depression. " Yeah, but I'm in Weapons Training all day tomorrow. Maybe another movie?" He crunched the unnoticed prepaid ticket stubs in his fist and shoved it in the pocket of his jeans. "Mind kicking their monster ass a little harder then normal. For me?" He didn't mean to come across as pleading as he said that, but it helped channel the last bit of resentment at the situation out of his head so now he can spend the rest of the allotted time off to sulk in his bunk.

Reno smiled and clasped a hand on Iharu's shoulder. "Sure thing."

Reno walked out of the locker room and headed toward the door that lead to the chopper pad that would whisk him away, as well as Iharu's plan for the three hours that he could squeeze out of Vice-Cap. All Iharu could do was watch as Reno lightly jogged away and feel as if he was doing that to get away from him faster. He knew that Reno liked him as a friend at least, but he felt that Reno could act a little less chill about being forcefully blown off a dinner and a movie. Iharu turned and started walking toward the canteen with the intention to take as much food and drink he could smuggle out to his bunk, make a Blanket Fort of Solitude*tm and attempt to stuff his dashed feeling under a quarter pound of katsudon, cheese puffs and soda popsicles-made in prison style.

Iharu was dragged from his thoughts by a loud, friendly, and familier voice. "OYE! Iharu! Wait a sec!"

Kafka Hibino came barreling down the hallway having turned a corner and apparently looking lost. The man was almost out of breath by the time he managed to catch up to Iharu. "Have you seen Reno around? I -huff- wanted to tell him safe travels before he -huff- left."

"He's heading down to the heli-pad now. Book it and you might catch him." Iharu said apathetically, scratching his neck. Which was really out of character for him, but he couldn't help hoping that was the end of the conversation, seeing that he just wanted to spend his three hours of time off drowning in food.

"Great! Thanks! Hey, you headed to the canteen?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Give me a minute and I'll meet you there. Want to talk to you about something." Kafka took off running in the direction that Iharu pointed in before Iharu could refuse. He sighed deeply and started his way back to a journey to food-comaville; population one.

Iharu made it during a lull in orders and took his time deciding what to pig out on. He walked over to a seat at a table that was as far as he could make it from the others in the large and sparsely populated room. He managed to plow through 4 chicken kievs and a large bowl of rice with a coke before Kafka managed to walk into the lunchroom. He searched for a bit, found Iharu and started to walk to him... before deciding better and grabbed a Hamburg steak meal and then headed over.

"Well, I didn't get to tell him goodbye, but he did get to see me waving from the platform, so there's that. I feel better." Kafka sat down next to Iharu and assembled his steak to his preference.

"I'm glad." Iharu said sarcastically, "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Your attitude, actually." Kafka said, then took a big bite of smothered chopped steak. Iharu partially choked mid-sip, Quickly recovering to stare down the senior with barely concealed audacity. Kafka saw and chuckled a bit around the food in his mouth.

"Nothing serious! Saw you were looking a little down in the dumps when I talked to ya. Just wanted to check in, make sure its nothing pressing, though I'll understand if you're not open for conversation at the moment."

"What are you, a counselor?" Iharu said defiantly. Kafka put his hands up in surrender before diving back into his meal.

"Say the word and I'll leave. If its not anything Reno said, I'll leave you to your moping."

Hearing Reno's name and the implication that he might of said something caused Iharu to curl up slightly, not bothering to hide the change in expression that very much told Kafka that Reno definitely said something. The pinkette paused for a minute before responding "What makes you think he did?"

Kafka smiled a warm, knowing smile, put down his fork, and swallowed. "Because I know Reno. He is extremely chill most of the time, but sometimes he can't tell that his coolness... can unintentionally burn others. Especially when you don't tell him outright." He turned to a slumped Iharu before continuing, " He told me that you two were going to watch a movie together tonight, right? He seemed excited about it.... in his own little way."

Iharu pushed his food away from him and dug his face in his crossed arms. 'Of course Reno would tell the division's Father Figure.' In admitting defeat, Iharu sighed and turned his head to face the half kaiju man.

"It wasn't just going to be a movie. There was going to be food too. There's a food stall festival a block from the movie theater that was selling some really good smelling food and it was the last day for it to be around and I had thought maybe we could take a shortcut through that really pretty shrine afterword- the one that lights up all those paper lanterns when sunset hits- and I had planned to pay for all the food and there was going to be gifts a-a-and-" He sat up to dig up the crumpled ticket stubs from his pockets and rudely threw them on the table, "And I had even PREPAID THE TICKETS AND.....haa. I just...... I wanted a nice evening with him. I knew three hours were rushing things but it was all Hoshina could let us take today."

Kafka picked up the stubs and straighten them out with the edge of the table. "And it absolutely would of been had it not been for a sudden arrival of 5.6 mole kaijus, huh." Iharu tucked his head back into his arms.

"Yeah, fucking mole kaiju. The least they could do was let me come with, but noooo! Everyone seems to think that I'm only relevant to Reno if he's wearing his stupid super suit."

'"If it makes you feel better. Reno likes having you around inside and outside the suit. Definitely enjoys the push-n-pull thing you two have going on." Iharu haphazardly wiped his nose on his leave as he looked to Kafka again.

"Doesn't matter anymore though, does it. He's not here and there's no sense going to the theater with two tickets and only showing up by yourself." Kafka scratched his ever present 5'o-clock shadow as he contemplated for a moment.

"Could ask around. I'm pretty sure Aoi hasn't taken any hours off in a while. Or maybe Shinomiya? She might be into cowboys verses bio-mech-monsters." Iharu tilted his head up hearing Kafka describe the movie.

"You've seen Ranger Rika against the Metal Mess of South Bend?"

"Just the trailers for it. Tokusatsu style, right? Watched a bunch of those as a kid. Somehow managed to pirate a few movies onto a mp.3 player when I was younger. Got me through a lot of bunker-hunkering in my middle school years."

Iharu laughed, "An mp.3 player? God you are old. And when was sitting in a kaiju shelter called 'Bunker-hunkering'?" Kafka reached over and playfully shook the younger compatriot by his shoulders.

"MP.3S ARE NOT THAT OLD! MINE STILL WORKS AND I STILL USE IT, YOU ASSHAT!" Hearing this only caused both of them to split themselves into fits of laughter. A moment later Kafka was lightly hugging Iharu and trying (and failing) to slow his heart and breathing while Iharu was wiping away tears and giggling. The shark-toothed teen looked up at the division's adopted father figure contemplatively.

"Ya know.... why don't you come with me." Kafka looked a little taken aback at that offer.

"Really? With me? I mean, I'm not going to turn down a free movie. Just thought that you young folk would rather run around with... well, people of similar age." Iharu started laughing again.

"What, so you finally decided you're old now?"

"Well, there's no hiding the fact that I'm damn near forty." Kafka said as he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but you're cool and forty. Which is like, guaranteed cool. And you're probably the only person here that would enjoy a movie of this explosive caliber." Iharu got up from his seat and picked up the tickets, offering one to Kafka. He smiled massively and pushed the offering had back toward Iharu.

"Hold on to them for now. I gotta talk to Hoshina about taking some hours away from base first. Tell you what, grab a bag of snacks to take in and I'll meet you by the garage."

"Bag of snacks? Ya know the theater sells them there, right?" Furuhashi said walking side by side with Hibino as they wandered back into the hallway.

"Excuse you, but I have been raised on the philosophy that you never buy theater snacks when you can sneak in your own. The theft of it all makes them taste better." Kafka winked as the two of them parted ways. "Should only take a minute or two. Text when you hit the garage!"

############################################

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO?" Kafka said calmly as he adopted a wide defensive stance against is superior.

"I get you can be simple some days, but even you should know what that word means." replied Soshiro Hoshina, the vice captain of the Third Division. The man carefully put down the log book that contained the recorded hours of all enlisted that each individual was allotted to spend.

"What I mean is, do you mean no as in 'You still have chores or training left', or no as in 'I can't afford to have you leave base today'." Kafka breathed slowly through his nose in irritation as he emphasized each scenario.

"No as in 'You have no hours left to spend.' You used them all." Hoshina turned the catalog to face Kafka as the burly man planted his hands on the desk. All he could do was sigh at his unforeseen short comings.

"Honestly, I wanna talk to whoever came up with the policy that cut half of our vacation days and replaced them with this 'Payable Recreational Hours' bullshit. You seriously can't fudge the rules even a little bit?"

"Trust me Kafka, I wasn't the one who opted for that either. And as Vice Captain and currently the highest ranking on base, 'Fudging the rules' as you put it, would be a terrible move and give me a soft reputation. So, no."

Kafka shrunk his appearance and pulled out his big doe eyes to aid in his pleading. "But this is important! Hoshina, please. Its not even about me, this is for Iharu's sake."

Hoshina's interest piqued exasperatedly upon hearing that. "Oh? And pray tell, what could be so pressing that you have to emergency call off three hours for?" Kafka started to sense that this was the first slip into a bad situation and immediately back peddled.

"If it helps, I guess I could get away with an hour and a half?" he shrugged.

"So what was the other two and a half hours going to be spent on?" Hoshina said, leaning back in his office chair and crossing his arms.

Kafka knew he couldn't lie to someone so close to him, especially when that person was adept at seeing through his lies specifically. "Just, uh... food and... travel?"

This isn't helped by the fact the man can't even get away with half truths in the first place. Hoshina leaned his elbows on the desk as he stared down menacingly at the resident Kaiju Man.

"Kafka. The whole truth now, and I'll let you off with janitorial duty for a week." All Kafka could do was unclench his body and accept defeat.

"Ok. Iharu had prepaid some movie tickets to a Ranger Rika film and we both felt it would be a waste not to use them and the plan had involved a food stall festival and Reno was supposed to be there-!" Upon remembering what Iharu's initial plan was, Kafka was struck with an idea. "Hey that could work."

'What" Hoshina said in a clearly vexed manner.

"Why not give me Reno's hours? They both called off right? And since he had to leave, doesn't that technically mean that there's hours left on the table?" Kafka's brilliant smile was quickly diminishing as his superior kept staring a hole through his skull.

"First off, that's rude." Hoshina said holding up a hand to count on, "Second, that's got to be a violation somewhere. And Three, even if it wasn't, I still wouldn't allow it."

"What, you want me to see if Iharu will hand both the tickets over and we both go?" Hoshina just pinched his nose bridge at that and sighed.

"No, Kafka. I'm irritated that you're trying to weasel your way into blowing off duty for street food and movie tickets."

"But they're prepaid movie tickets!" Kafka sighed. He could only hang his head in despair as he could see his impromptu plans slipping away from him. "Is there nothing that could change your mind?"

"No. Not when I'm this irritated." Hoshina said as he went back to crossing his arms.

'Irritated, huh?' Kafka rolled his partner's choice of words in his head, before coming up with a horrible idea and using it to fuel a devilish course of action.

"Well, then. I guess I'll just have to break out the big gun." Kafka whispered as he smirked. He rounded Hoshina's sturdy desk, a fact the two of them had certainly proved time and time again, and now Kafka was going to have to certify that statement one more time, it seems.

"Kafka?" Hoshina questioned as his work buddy visible stopped acting like his associate and donned his more... submissive side. Starting with turning the chair to face him, Kafka got down on his knees in front of his commanding officer and slowly slid a hand under the left pant leg to lightly tease his superior's ankle.

"Guess i'll have to help with that irritation before I leave, won't I?" Hibino said, still wearing a cocky, lopsided grin as he brought the other hand just under Hoshina's knee.

'Kafka, no." Hoshina gritted out, bringing his hands to the arm rests and firmly gripped them.

"Kafka, yes." replied the kneeling man as he kissed his secret lover's knee.

"Kafka, if you think I'm going to give you your requested hour and a half-"

"Three hours."

"You're not going to get any hours if you keep this up."

"Come on. We both know that's not true, Soshiro." Kafka said, looking up from his kiss to the knee and molding his throat into his other voice. The one where he isolates a partial transformation around his vocal cords, adding a low growl to his already bass tone. Taking extra care with using Hoshina's first name, Kafka leaned forward and caressed his cheek against the side of Soshiro's inner thigh, letting in a wicked light in behind his glossy eyes.

"We both know I get what I want if I work hard enough for it."

Kafka began to tease the inside of Soshiro's thighs, littering them with light and slow kisses. Switching back and forth between the two, inching close, but not close enough. Hoshina felt rooted to the seat, pinned down by this tormenting display. All he could do was reach over and place a hand in Kafka's surprisingly soft tufts of hair. He carded it through a little before gripping it. Not enough to hurt, but definitely attention getting. Kafka let out a hot puff of air against his commander's hip, reveling in the feeling of Soshiro's short nails digging into his tough scalp.

"Give me a good performance, and we'll discuss what I'll let you get away with." Hoshina said, mentally kicking himself for not training his pet to be on a shorter leash.

############################################

"Come onnn. Where is he?" Iharu whined, shifting one strap of the back pack off one shoulder to the other as he was on his way to Hoshina's office. "How long does it take to call off a few hours?"

Furuhashi had made it to the door of the office just in time to see Hibino walk out in an entirely different outfit than the work jumpsuit he was in earlier.

"You know, with that much work, I should get a thank you as a courtesy!" Kafka said with the biggest shit eating grin one could have on their face. This statement was quickly followed with him slamming the door closed before he could be hit with whatever Hoshina tried to throw at him. All Kafka could do in response was giggle uncontrollably before stopping in his tracks at Iharu's sudden appearance.

"When did you get here?"

"I sent you a text that I was at the garage and you didn't respond. I waited, like, 9 minutes before I wondered where you were and now I just have more questions. Like, did you change in Hoshina's office? Why was he throwing shit at you? Thank you for what?" Kafka's face got visible red as he tried to find a way to change the subject and instead, opted to grab Iharu's upper arm and drag him harshly back toward the direction the garage was in.

"Ask no questions, and I'll tell no lies. Better news, I just got us a lot more than three hours."

"Can I ask HOW?"

"Maybe later. Got the snacks?" Iharu wrenched his arm out of Kafka's grasp to slip the simple, black, mini back pack off his shoulders to show the contents to his impromptu partner for the night.

"Yeah, got some drinks too. Had to break into Kikoru locker to get a less conspicuous bag to put them in, though."

"Good idea. You know where the theater is?" Kafka said, picking up the pace a little more the closer they got to the getaway vehicles. Iharu had no problem matching his pace, but was getting increasingly worried as to why they were acting like they were in a hurry. The movie didn't start for another forty five minutes.

"Yes, its close by so I don't know whY weRE RUNNING?"

"Cause not only do I want to catch the pre-showing, we really, really should leave before Hoshina saw what I put down in the time log sheet."

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" HIbino got to the heavy security door and opened the entry to the covered garage where most members of the defense force kept their personal vehicles.

"Nothing I'm going to regret later. Here, take this." He said as Iharu walked through the door and tossed him a suspicious set of keys. Iharu caught them and examined them quickly.

"Are these... Hoshina's keys? The one to his supercharged bike? You know I have my own bike, right?"

"Yeah, but when you think about it, his bike's bigger and I can't drive one, so I'm going to have to ride pillion. And trust me, you're going to want that extra bit of room."

As the two of them jogged to the Vice Captain's super bike, all Iharu could think that this wasn't going to be a simple movie night anymore.

###########################################

The two of them had made it into the theater with plenty of time to spare and minimal suspicion. They turned in their stubs and walked inside the air conditioned room that was showing the Ranger Rika film. There, Kafka was met with a surprise.

"Holy shit! You prepaid seats to a show that had in-house recliners?" Kafka walked by in awe and they made their way to one of the seats closer to the front. "Surprised you didn't pick seats closer to the back. Kinda bougie place to bring 'just a friend' don't ya think?" Kafka winked at Iharu as they settled down into their reserved seats.

"I don't ever want to hear the word bougie out of your mouth ever again. And I felt like paying extra for the reclining seats, that ok with you?" Iharu said defensively.

"Fine, fine. Just wondering why you felt the need to score brownie points with Reno, is all. He'd be happy just getting off base with you, being an easy guy like that." Kafka started to root around in Iharu's stolen bag for the drinks he mentioned earlier.

"This isn't point scoring! I just... I wanted to- what I'm trying to say is... give me that." The furious looking teen grabbed the glass coke bottle out of the older man's offering hand. Kafka looked on warmly at Iharu, piecing together some dots in his head. Not enough to make a solid conclusion, but his previous levels of mopiness started to make sense. Hibino brought the sealed bottle to his mouth and cracked the metal pop top off with his teeth.

"You know that they make these twist off now, right? That has to fuck up your teeth something awful." Iharu stated as he began to twist off his own bottle before the movie really started. At least he was trying to, and apparently failing miserably due to the sharp edges on the bottle cap digging into his hands uncomfortably. Kafka took the bottle from his hands and proceeded to open the bottle like he did before and handed it back.

"Again, I am not that old. Don't ruin my one piece of happiness in my life."

"Opening bottles... with your teeth?" Iharu replied, pushing the button that reclined the seat back and brought the foot rest up.

"Old habit from childhood that I've managed to keep because Monster Sweepers has a surprisingly great dental plan. Now hush, previews are starting." Kafka said as the lights began to dim in the room.

############################################

"Holy shit! That movie was amazing!" Iharu said as they left the theater doors and landed on the sidewalk.

"Yeah, that was a great movie. Was a lot more emotional then I was expecting." Kafka mentioned as he squatted low and stretched a leg out to the side.

"You weren't kidding! That plot twist that Missy Whisky was a plant based robo-zoid horse and the scene where she was dying and her body fueled a new oasis got me actually crying! I never cry!" Kafka could only look up at Iharu incredulously, knowing that the younger soldier cried at anything involving animals; sometimes even about Kaijus.

"I think my favorite shot of the whole thing was at the end when Ranger Rika was in a lawn chair with a beer, sitting in that new oasis and we get to see that Missy Whisky was ok, she was just a metal skeleton now." Kafka said as he stood back up and stretched his back.

"Yeah, he deserved that beer, honestly. My favorite scene was when Rika had to jerry rig a new leg and ended up making that burst shot rocket leg. When I heard Golem explain the concept, I thought it sounded so stupid! Whats the point in putting a rocket in your leg if it can only fire off in short burst? Then it trails into the scene in the canyon where he has to fight the Centa-Snake and he was keeping up on foot! Certified Ultimate Badass moment this year!" Iharu started to walk away, following the flow of the crowd so as to not interrupt it too much. Spurring Kafka to hurry up and follow him as well. The two of them walked far enough down the street to where they could walk side by side more comfortably.

As they walked farther away from the theater, it became clear that Iharu was still basking in the warm afterglow of a good memory made. He was still chattering about all the details of the movie, even going into the depths of character analysis and how it showed through in the clothing the characters were wearing. It was very clear he was dying to watch this someone as his mouth seemed to be going a mile a minute with no signs of stopping. Kafka kept up as best he could with the conversation, adding what he could to the conversation. If he was being honest though, he didn't really see as much in the movie as Iharu apparently did. It seemed Iharu noticed as well as he started to slow down his talking speed, becoming more quiet as they went along.

"You good?" Kafka said, noticing the small, slight drop in demeanor.

"Yeah, Im...I'll be fine. I think. I got to see the movie today, which is what I wanted." Iharu stated, visible not looking as fine as he tried to say he was. It was clear to Kafka that it wasn't the possibility that Iharu might of not watched the movie that got him feeling down. I seemed that he still couldn't get Reno not being here off his mind. Kafka felt it was a bit early to press the matter, seeing they got out of a good movie and didn't feel like spoiling the once good mood with questions, so he decided to try and redirect Iharu's train of thought to something more pressing.

"We are walking in the right direction for the festival, right?" Iharu looked up at the older man, redirection of thoughts successful.

"Oh yeah, Food! That was a thing wasn't it? Uhhh...." Iharu said, stopping to process their current location. "Yeah, one more block and a right and we should be there."

"I remember that you said you found it because you... smelled it?" Kafka said quizzically.

"Oh, yeah. There was an attack early last week two streets down and I wanted to stop by when I smelled it. Couldn't though, had to check for yoju then head back to base for a report. Couldn't leave for a week and started feeling desperate. It smells really good-!" Iharu stopped dead in his tracks, looking straight across the street.

"What? Is everything Ok?" Kafka said, looking around before landing his eyes at whatever Iharu was looking at. Across the street, in a store window, sat a rack holding a cluster of very unusual looking hats.

"Cowboy hats. Can you believe it?" Iharu said, looking absolutely puzzled as to why they were there. Taking a longer look, the window belonged to what appeared to be a restaurant dedicated to American cuisine. Specifically western style - steaks and big burgers. it looked like the restaurant had conjoined with a kitschy souvenir store. Kafka thought hard for a minute before turning back to Iharu.

"You wanna?" Kafka asked, jabbing a thumb to the store front. Furuhashi looked back with a clearly confused look. "Come on, we just got out of a Cowboy movie. Isn't it customary to get a least one in honor of a good movie?" Kafka playfully punched Iharu in the shoulder as Iharu just shook his head before he responded.

"I have never heard that ever, and I'm a fan of all the Ranger Rika films."

"All I'm hearing is you've got some hat buying to catch up on." Kafka said, committing an act of jaywalking to drag his new friend over to the store.

"We don't need to buy a cowboy hat!" Iharu protested as they hit the sidewalk.

"Fine. Then I'm getting one without you." Kafka retaliated, hand on the store handle.

"OH, no. If I leave you alone in here, you're going to buy me one in a stupid color. Like blue or green." Iharu said, walking into the store before Kafka.

"But I thought you said you didn't want one?" the Half-Kaiju said, throwing a pointed smirk at Iharu.

"I just said I don't trust you, therefore I have to buy one to make sure you don't buy one for me." the pinkette said defiently, studying the hats on the rack. Kafka just chuckled quietly behind him and soon joined him at the rack too, but not before ordering a side of steak fries to go.

Minutes later, the two of them left the store with hats and fries in hand. Kafka bought a black one with a braided rawhide band threaded with turquoise beads and Iharu's was a simple white stetson.

"Kinda surprised you didn't get the pink one." Kafka said, placing his hat on his head.

"I thought about it, but I mean... pink on pink? It might be a bit much." Iharu said, gesturing to his hair. "That and I thought that white hats just looked cooler anyway."

"This decision totally isn't related to Ranger Rika and his outfit design at all, right?" Kafka said, dripping with sarcasm and Iharu fiddled with the chin strap on the stetson.

"Pfft, Of course not! Why would you say such a thing?" Iharu said through a choked chuckle as his ears got a noticeable shade pinker.

###########################################

Short walk later, they had made it to the start of the street where the festival was held. Both sides of a seemingly endless boulevard was lined with lanterns, ramshackle food stalls, and carnival games. The lights gave the whole street the warmest inviting glow that paired with the slowly setting sun and the scent from the cooking food made the entrance all the more enticing. Adding on the visual ebb and flow of the crowd flittering between the brightly advertised stalls truly made the scene before them come alive. All that was needed to become one with the crowd was as simple as stepping inside and it would feel like a whole different reality. Before the duo could, Kafka decided to take a look at the parked sign at the beginning of the boulevard.

"Hey, did you know about this?" Kafka pointed at the sign.

"No. What's it say?"

"It says that the food festival is in collaboration with the local bars on this street. Beer and cocktails are half off." Iharu whistled approvingly at the news.

"God, a beer sound wonderful right now. Haven't had any since Hoshina trashed my stash in the vent." Kafka said, groaning at the distant textural memory of the cool, aggressive liquid sliding down his throat.

"I don't know man. We still gotta head back to work in a couple of hours. Getting drunk tonight that worth it?" Iharu questioned. Kafka choked on his own spit in a suspicious manner for a minute at hearing how long they had left on the outside.

"Speaking of which..." Furuhashi began to eye the old man intensely now, "How many hours did you get out of Vice-Cap?" Kafka made an attempt to clear his throat before answering.

"Yeah, about that...I, uhhh...didn't have any hours left."

"HIBINO."

"Honestly, the whole payable hours thing sounds stupid anyway so when Hoshina wasn't looking I... wrote in our own hours?" Kafka shrugged at a very red Iharu.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'OUR'? HOW MANY?"

"Three... hundred and thirty six." Kafka said quietly. When Iharu didn't respond back, Kafka felt the need to explain himself.

"I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE FUNNY! 336 hours equal out to two weeks so I thought it be like an 'I'm quitting' joke. Ya'know, in retaliation of the stupid new hours rule? Vice Captain wasn't giving me any wiggle room here and you said you were coming to a food festival with Reno and two hours for a food festival is not a lot of time, especially if you want to do it right, and now there's possible booze involved which is another two on top of that and I just think that only getting three hours to spend away from base isn't a lot of time and you really looked disappointed at not being able to go- albeit the original plan involved Reno- but I mean we're here now and..."

Kafka could only sigh at his now clearly flawed line of thought as Iharu put his face in his hands. One one hand, Iharu agreed with him. Three hours wasn't a lot of time and he also hated the new hours ruling. But that short amount of time would of been worth it because he would of been with Reno. But now... Reno wasn't here. He was with Kakfa, a close member of the team that was trying his best to look out for him and cheer him up in light of the disastrous change in his plans. Iharu was here now, without Reno, and was still enjoying himself despite himself. The whole reason for coming was because of Reno, but here he was anyway; feeling guilty because he was having fun without Reno, knowing this was to be for him. Iharu wasn't really angry about the hours that Kafka had managed to cheat out of Vice-Cap. He knew he was going to pay for them as soon as Kafka got involved on this little outing. It just didn't feel right, him about to be having fun with someone who wasn't supposed to be here.

Kafka clasped a gentile hand of Iharu's shoulder.

"Hey. If you're not comfortable with this, we can just grab one or two things and head back early. You can tell him about the prepaid tickets and bring him back a snack. I'm sure he'd appreciate it after fighting in the mountains all afternoon." The older man smiled comfortably down at the distressed teen.

There he went again. The Dad of Division Three. He really knew just how others felt sometimes. Just when it didn't conflict with the mans's own feelings, that is. Kafka could tell that he was stressed about staying here too long and having fun without the one he wanted to be here with, so now he's trying to accommodate by telling him they could leave and bring back a gift that Reno couldn't help but like. Iharu wanted to come here with Reno... but he was here with Kafka. The happiest, most understanding, and most uplifting person to be around. Especially when you're upset, just like he is right now. And you know what, Kafka is here. With him. Right now. He got Iharu to the movies and spared him a day of sulking around the barracks getting fat and feeling sorry for himself. And that should be rewarded.

"You know what? Fuck it. I'm game." Furuhashi said, dropping his hands from his face.

"About what?"

"Getting drunk. I was going to stuff my face with cafeteria food earlier, and now I get to stuff my face with fried street food and alcohol. Honestly? Upgrade."

"Wait a minute? Are you sure about this? I mean, its not like those hours actually count or anything." Kafka said, reeling slightly from Iharu's change in demeanor.

"Hey man, you're the one who wrote in two weeks of hours, and I'm going to use them. Unless someone from base comes down here and carries my plastered ass off the sidewalk, I don't plan on leaving. Besides, didn't you say there's a right way to food festival? Maybe I'd like to know the secret too. Ya' know, for next time." Iharu stared into the sunset over the festival, feeling empowered about his newfound dereliction of duty.

He was upset. About the time constraints, about a lack of Reno in his presence, about not being able to tell him how he felt in a way he had been planning for about a week now, and about a dozen other minor things that had gotten under his skin recently.

None of that matters now. He was here. In good company. And with access to cheap booze. And may the Gods themselves strike him down now, because he wasn't going to let this opportunity go to waste.

Kafka approved this new feeling welling up inside new drinking buddy and sealed the deal by lifting Iharu's hat off his back where it was hanging and placed it on his head. Making his voice gravely and southern, Kafka quoted a line from the movie.

"So... You finally decided to take charge of your own fortune, aye Rika?" Feeling the new weight on his head, Iharu turned to look up at Kafka and saw the brightest, toothiest, most genuine grin he thought that man could fit on his face. Iharu's eyes started to gather tears in accepted pride, but he blinked them away harshly and looked back at Kafka, matching his Kaiju smile with an aggressively mischievous one of his own.

"First things first. Nearest 7/11 location." Kafka said, turning toward the closest convenience store he could see.

"O-Ok? Why?" Iharu questioned, but followed Kafka's lead anyway.

"They carry this wonderful little drink that prevents hangovers. Fantastic shit, truly. Take it from a guy who use to party with a group of people who went on pub crawls every time someone had a birthday, hangovers do not need to be experienced more than necessary." Iharu's eyes lit up at hearing this.

"oh man! You have to have some crazy stories from your college days."

"College? You seriously think I had the attention span to make it in that kind of setting? This was from working in Monster Sweepers. Let me tell you, Tokuda; guy I used to work with, couldn't let go of a scotch bottle to save his life. Which is funny because having one on him is what saved another guy I worked with..."

#########################################

"And that's how my second boss ended up eating his own ring finger, wedding band and all." Kafka said as Iharu finished up the last of a batch of heavily sauced, fried chili shrimp.

"Damn, I didn't know you guys caught so many strays on the job site. Ya'll really need a security detail while you're working or something."

"Yeah, it can get to be a bit much some days. I actually proposed a deal to Haruichi that asked if his dad's company could come up with some Kaiju-fiber t-shirts or arm sleeves. Just *burp* something cheap they could throw together from scraps to help out my old buddies on the job site. Just a little protection or a way to finish the job faster so we're not working so long."

Kafka finished up a can of beer as Iharu checked a notification on his phone. They were leaning against the base of one of the few stone building that were on the street. The two of them had already hit up several food stalls and three bars in between. Currently they were standing off to the right of an ally that led to the last one they were in, having left to get some fresh air.

"Don't see a reason why they couldn't? It's more money for them, isn't it? Hey! it finally downloaded." Iharu said, propping up his phone on a jutted window ledge.

"What did?"

"I downloaded that song that played during the saloon walkabout scene. I thought we could maybe make a TokTic with it." Kafka tossed his empty into a trash can before turning to Iharu.

"TokTic? Oh! Those short video things. Shinomiya is always sending me those. Her attempt to 'Keep me from falling back to the Stone Age'. Prissy brat. Love her! Just... so damn rude some days."

"Well, now here's your chance to show her that you can be relevant." Iharu chuckled, "Alright, here's what I was thinking."

Iharu began to lead Kafka through some easy dance steps and dictated which pattern this was supposed to happen. They ran through the process a few times so Kafka was sure he could do it, even though Iharu reassured him that it doesn't have to be perfect. Iharu pressed record and they started doing a intensely cowboy inspired, feet shuffling based choreography to 'No Diggity' by Blackstreet with their new hats on full display.

They wrapped it up with them moonwalking off screen. Furuhashi then quickly ran back to grab the phone. They ducked back into the ally to get out of the way of the rippling crowd as the phone's owner began messing with the video's settings and cropped the beginning and end to make it feel cleaner. Hibino whistled as he looked over Iharu's shoulder as his fingers flew over the screen with what seemed to be practiced efficiency.

"You've made a few of these?" Kafka asked.

"Yeah.", Iharu said sheepishly, "I had this account back when I was in Subjugation School. It kinda started as something I messed with in my down time between classes, making edits of shows and movies I was really into at the time, and then it just sorta turned into a daily routine showcase-turned-ask blog. Soon after it started to pick up followers, especially after I got to join Division Three." He began to show one of his latest edits that he made to Kafka.

"Wow! I have to admit, but the editing seems really smooth. I can see a lot of thought went into this." Kafka said as he took a brief overview of the collection that Iharu had made over the years. Furuhashi looked away bashfully as his face turned as pink as his hair.

"It really is just a hobby at this point. Most of my followers seem to just enjoy the daily blog stuff more. But, to be honest, I always told myself that if, for some reason, I didn't make it in the Defense Force I... might have pursued a career as a film director." Kafka slung his arm over Iharu's shoulder and drew him in close.

"Now that, I would have definitely paid... to... see." He stepped back to look at his surroundings, taking in the view of the ebbing crowd and sensing a disturbing lack of panic and chaos. But... why would there be? There was nothing to be afraid.... oh.

Oh Shit. There it was.

Kafka got a familiar sinking feeling deep in his gut. Like a cold wave of heavy mist and dry ice was dropped into his stomach. He started whipping his head around, trying to see if he could place the direction in which the dangerous disturbance could be coming from.

"Iharu! Eyes up! Trouble incoming." The teen flashed a worried look toward Kafka as he hurriedly put his phone away.

"Kaiju attack? Here?"

"Yeah, a honju. Small one though, it feels like. To close for comfort, though. Get the alert out!" Kafka ran to one of the food stalls next to them and grabbed a megaphone out of a hawker's hands

"EVERYONE! IMMINENT KAIJU ATTACK! START HEADING TO THE SHELTERS!"

Some people started to gather up their stuff while others only looked on in disbelief, thinking he was some drunk prankster, until a small earthquake rattled the street and stalls. Everyone began to feel the threat approaching with the sound of distant buildings crashing over the sudden wailing of the alert system through speakers and phones alike. The people started sprinting toward the nearest shelter, with Kafka and Iharu helping the stragglers and the fallen catch up to the rest. Once it seemed like a majority had made it off this particular street and others, too scared shitless to move, had been relegated to closer, save enough zones like basements and reinforced closets, did Kafka start running toward the source of the disaster. Iharu, not far behind, ran after him.

"Sir! Do you think we should be heading toward this? Its not like we could be of much help without gear."

"Kinda figured we'd look at it and go from there? Least I could do is break it down visually and have you relay the information." Kafka started to summon some of his Kaiju bio-works through his system, calling forth faster speed and inhuman claws, and used them to get to higher elevation. As the cryptid soldier began to race across rooftops, Iharu mentally broke down the things that he could help with, starting with field reconnaissance and path prediction.

##########################################

Even without the suit, Iharu was keeping up with with a supped-up Kafka. It helped that he was trying to gain more height than speed to better survey the land and find the cause of danger. Once he found a sign of the monstrous disturbance, Kafka began giving directionals down to Iharu. As the man on the ground, he took it upon himself to keep track how they were moving between the three of them, figured a possible heading, and started to send directions back to Kafka in an attempt to head whatever this was off at a pass. So far, they hadn't hit any major damaged areas yet, so Iharu wasn't too focused on checking for possible trapped survivors.

Thanks to Kafka's sight and Iharu's planning, the two of them had made it to the location of the honju. Bursting through a broken and slanted ally way, Iharu had caught sight of the beast first. It was cephalopod based, resembling a mix between a squid or an octopus, crossed with an armored spider. Its' head was blue and bulbous, with a thin, wide, white ribbon running the diameter of its rounded top. It had four darker blue tentacles, each ending in a triangular nub covered in wicked spiked suckers, and another eight acting as its legs. All of them covered in what looked like black, striped,and jointed keratin plating and all of them ending in squishy tarantula paws. It was big, about a family-of-four house sized, tall as well as wide, and it was pissed.

"You don't think it smelled all the fried seafood and wanted revenge, do you think?" Kafka leaped down from a shattered rooftop and landed close to Iharu. The younger one grabbed the senior's wrist and dragged them both behind some cover before the honju saw them.

"Well, you said you wanted to break it down. Now's your chance." Iharu hissed quietly.

The aquatic beast lumbered forward, bellowing a watery warble as it bashed its tentacles against the building to its left. Kafka braced his back against the large piece of broken wall and shimmied upwards slowly in an attempt to gain a better look without breaking cover. He began to mentally run through a back catalog of information about Honju and Yoju, both from personal experience and from research on his down time, and came up with very little. But what he did come up with could still be very useful.

"Ok, here's the deal. Both Honju and Yoju can have aquatic forms and when they do, they stick unusually close to the original anatomy of their more normal counterparts."

"And how is that helpful?" Iharu whispered harshly as he stayed close to the ground in a crouched position.

"I'm getting there, hold on. From what it looks like, this bastard is sticking pretty close to something from the squid family. Which means it would be a safe bet that its core is somewhere close to the surface of the body, situated around the junction between the trunk and its head, and under a thick backbone made of cartilage."

"Alright, i'll tell everyone to aim for the.... neck I guess?" Iharu began to pull out his phone, but Kafka shooed it down to dismiss the idea.

"Here's the thing. You can actually kill a normal squid really easily by hitting it right at that junction. And I mean like one hard smack kinda deal." Kafka slid down the cover to better demonstrate with his hands to his partner.

"Yes, this has been established." Iharu sounded exasperated, almost desperate too as the beast trudged on by.

"I have a really bad idea." Kafka looked Iharu dead in the eyes with as much seriousness as he could. All Iharu could do was send a look of disbelief right back.

"Whatever it is, no."

"Ok, but if I'm right, the Defense force doesn't even need to show up because we'll be done already."

"HOW, may I ask? We don't even have any weapons." Iharu was becoming flabbergasted now, slowly debating to stop bothering with discrepancy.

"Ah, but you forget, I'm a living weapon. I don't even need a full transformation. Just make sure it doesn't turn around for a second while I grab a lamp post and get to higher ground." Iharu just groaned into his hands while Kafka turned and ran to find a suitable post, preferably one already uprooted.

Minutes later, Kafka had managed to fine a suitable improvised weapon to attack with and was trying his best to lug it over quietly. Iharu was still hiding behind the original piece of cover, watching his battle buddy struggle while keeping an eye on the yoju, making sure it hadn't been alerted to Kafka's presence. Kafka was on the other side of the street, opposite to Iharu's position and had much more cover to work with since that was the side the monster seemed to be taking its aggression out on. However, this came with its own set of problems as Kafka kept knocking the lamp post on what seemed to be every obstacle imaginable. Causing Iharu to flinch and indirectly slowing the beasts progression as it kept picking up on Kafka's poor attempt at stealth. After Kafka had managed to bang the bottom of the post against an unseen rock and cause the honju to turn around and face his general direction, it became clear to him that if he was to scale a building and get closer, some preventative measures were going to have to take place.

After waiting for the monster to turn back around, Kafka started to wave his arms around to get a hold of Iharu's attention.

'Go distract' Kafka tried to pantomime using military hand gestures.

'Me distract?' Iharu responded back, to which Kafka affirmed

'Are you nuts?' Iharu sent back, ducking as a chunk of debris flew over his head.

'Just throw a brick or something.' Kafka sent before picking up the post and tried to quietly lean it on the nearest building. Iharu hung his head at the absurd situation and looked around for a suitable rock.

Speedily crouch walking past several broken walls and roof pieces, he had managed to get back in front of the honju's path. Looking back, Kafka had transformed his hands back into claws and was now trying to climb the side of a building while alternating bringing the pole up with him. He seemed to be doing fine so far, trying his best not to make more noise than he could get away with. Kafka had made it to a metal fire escape landing that was miraculously still attached to a partially demolished building. He leaned over to pull up the light post behind him... and smacked the top of it into the landing above.

Before the monster had time to react to Kafka's blunder, Iharu had thrown the rock as hard as he could, aiming for it to land in front of its face and keeping its attention forward. This would of worked had Iharu had picked a smaller or lighter rock, as it had flown straight into one of the beast's wiggling tentacles. Iharu didn't have time to duck behind cover as it had turned to face the source of bodily harm. The honju roared as it raised its front arms and tentacles in defiance and began to lumber quickly toward the only thing it could really see, a mop of alarmingly pink hair.

"Shit, shIT, SHHHHIIIIIIIIIITTTTTT!" Iharu bolted down the street, leaping and bounding over ruble in his path as the squishy, blue beast rapidly shuffled behind him giving chase. Kafka vocally mirrored the pink human rocket's sentiment as he rushed to carry the light pole up to the remains of the roof.

The buildings around Furuhashi turned into a blended blur as he blasted down the street, the journey made easier now that he hit a section that the honju hadn't demolished yet and left no obstacles to jump around. However, that didn't mean that he didn't have an easy time running away. With every footstep the multi-limbed monster made, sent the road trembling, forcing Iharu to find some sea legs fast. While it seemed to be a constant fact that spider based kaiju were slow enough to be outrun by anyone able-bodied, The shaking this one was creating gave Iharu a feeling that one misstep, one slight falter in his adrenaline fueled gait, could spell a messy end for him.

As he came onto a three-way, he juked the literal fish-out-of-water and whipped right, feet sliding out from under him. Iharu had to recover quickly as the squid-spider had regained it's footing as well and picked up its pace. Tentacles slammed and swiped all around him, causing the younger soldier to duck and weave intensely and dug deep inside of himself to find the strength to go faster.

A simple image. A snow blonde man with frosted violet eyes. Once facing a complimentary sunset, turned back to face Iharu in his mind's eye.

That's all it took for him. Not thinking too much about it (surely if he did, he would call himself out on his patheticness) Iharu managed to speed up just in time. He found himself passing under a familiar Torii gate just as the honju began to bring down a weighty tentacle. Before it could though, a squelchy crunch sound echoed down the food stalls lined boulevard him and Kafka were on earlier. Iharu kept going until he noticed the lack of quaking that was accompanying his previous flight for his life. Slowing down cautiously, he turned around to gawk at the scene that had unfolded behind him

Just passing under the Torii gate was the unnatural squid like beast, now limp and an opaque, milky color. Stood on top of the bulbous trunk in a victorious killing pose was Kafka, having hammered the concreted base of the lamppost square over its one-shot kill spot. Kafka let go of the post once it seemed sure that the monstrous cephalopod wasn't going to move anymore and stood up and relaxed. He flashed Iharu a thumbs up in reassurance.

Iharu was far from reassured and was shaking from the head to toe in adrenaline withdrawal. He took a second to catch his breath and immediately regretted it, running over to an uncovered trash can and vomited his stomach contents from the nerves.

#########################################

Several back rubs, gurgled curses, and vehement apologies later, Iharu felt okay enough to walk again. Kafka took a second to extend his kaiju sensory powers to check the immediate area for more threats while Iharu double checked him with research from his phone. Certain they had eliminated the only threat that had decided to make its presence known, the two discussed their next course of action. Seeing that the damage had been localized to a different part of town and how none of it had really reached the festival, they decided to see if they could encourage those that were still around to start the food stalls back up. To be honest, the decision was made from a mutual understanding that if it didn't, the two of them would have no choice but to head back to headquarters. Which felt like admitting defeat too early, seeing as they had wanted to stay out as long as they wished tonight, damn the consequences.

The two split up and went around to the surrounding buildings and encouraged the caged civilians inside that it was safe now. Once told that it was some off duty members of the Defence Force, those inside started to walk out and braced themselves for the possible damage that wasn't there. Some of the bartenders of the local bars that hadn't left in the evacuation started a one time only deal of giving everyone that had stayed a round on the house. Once it seemed that the neighborhood's basements and closets were emptied, Kafka and Iharu met in the center of the street.

"I got everyone on the left." Kafka started.

"And I got everyone on the right. Going to head to the shelter where everyone headed to and see about bypassing the lock on it to get everyone out. You coming?" Iharu said, already turning to leave.

"Nah, I'm gonna stay here and see what I can do about the squid at the gate. Get it out of here before it gets rank." Iharu managed two thumbs up as he briskly jogged away to the rescue.

A large crowd had begun to form around the fishy corpse under the gate. Kafka could make out some of the hushed phrases as he politely muscled his way through.

"Can't believe it had gotten so close."

"There doesn't seem to be any casualties so far?"

"We were lucky that some members of the third division were here tonight."

"Its almost seems like the gods were looking out for the festival, don't ya think?"

"The spirits must have considered the food too good to waste- excuse me, coming through! Make way, if you don't mind." Kafka began to move more easily through the crowd after making his presence known.

Getting to the front, he stood proud and took a long look at the situation before him. His past experience in the Sweepers began to flow easily into his mind as he walked around and over the dead beast. It was soft and squishy, with a tough skin. Not so tough that it probably couldn't be pierced by a good knife, he thought. The keratin plates were only held on with a thin sheet of tendon and looked like it could be filleted or pried off with little difficulty. The legs seemed closer to a crab than a spider at a closer glance, it just had an extra set. Breaking the crab legs would be challenging, however. Sure they could be cracked, but only after heated drastically and directly at the joints. Kafka leaned back and sighed. He knew he wasn't going to be the one cleaning this up, but he'd hate to have the whole squad out here for what could be a three person job.

Well, three if they had five hours. The more people, the less time of course. This one just so happened to be simple to break down, however. Give him ten minutes and he could teach everything that was important to the crowd in front of him. They could probably have this all dismantled before the Sweepers even got out of bed.

"Hey! You're with the Defense force, right? How long do you think it would take to get this out of here?" A portly man in a tan canvas apron shouted up at Kafka. The half kaiju man slid down the deceased squid beast so he could talk to the man in an appropriate manner.

"Well the thing's dead, so that parts' already done. Getting the body out of here is down to the Sweepers. I used to work with them, so I can just call a few of them up and we can get this dismantled and out of here soon. It's all a shame though."

"What make you say that?" A taller man behind the chunky one piped up.

"Well, for one, if the JAKDF finds out I'm here, I'm gonna have to get back on duty sooner than I'd like." This caused a slight chuckle from the neighboring crowd that heard him, causing some to relax slightly.

"And this is me saying from previous experience, the dismantling for this thing would be easy; it's just labor intensive. Wouldn't need fancy tools or anything. Just some willing hands, and I'd hate to bring out a whole ten piece crew for something this small. I don't even think Izumo really messes with squid types anyway. Not unless they exhibit some unnatural power so this would end up getting tossed in a trash heap in the end." The short man from earlier turned to look at the milky squid spider and shook his head in sympathy.

"Damn shame they aren't edible, huh?" A light bulb went off in Kafka's head as he turned to look at the man. Looking down, he saw that, in the pockets of the man's apron, was a handful of toothpicks and a couple sets of sharp metal chopsticks with bells attached to the ends of the wooded handles. Instruments designed to get people attention when someone made takoyaki.

"Actually.... most aquatic type kaiju are."

Half an hour later, Iharu lead the throng of people that had made it to the shelter back to the street and saw the most ridiculous sight. People had swarmed the dead honju, a third of it now seemed to be missing. Some had rigged a makeshift pulley system over the Torri gate and was lifting large chunks of milky, spotted flesh up and away from the rest of the body. Kafka was at the base, directing others on how to properly separate the armored plates from the legs while somebody on the other side was using a cutting torch and passed off the legs to another group that was putting them in a steaming metal barrel. Some had set their respective stalls back up and had hurriedly changed or added on new parts to their signs, all now advertising a kaiju variant of wherever fried food they were selling before.

"KAFKA! Mind telling me what's going on?" Iharu shouted over the sound of intense manual labor. Kafka looked at everyone and asked if they understood. When everyone nodded yes, Kafka broke away and joined Iharu.

"Funny thing, actually. I was talking to this guy in the crowd about the labor and how it would be a waste if we got the Sweepers involved. He said something about 'Shame it ain't edible' and it made me remember that some sea-bearing ones are and the guy I was talking too ran the giant takoyaki stand, the one where they're as big as your head, and the guy behind him was selling calamari rings and-"

"So you thought it would be a good idea to teach everyone here how to dismantle a kaiju? You don't seriously expect people to eat that, right? It's kaiju meat, how are you so sure it doesn't have parasites or something?"

"Oh! Already solved that problem." Kafka said, "Quick vinegar bath. Kills the sturdier ones and the heat kills the rest." Iharu looked past Kafka suspiciously and stared at the group of volunteers working away at the dead and, apparently edible, body.

"And where's the organs and shit going, might I ask?"

"Called an old work buddy that has a truck. He's going to be here in an hour to pick up the double bagged trash bags and throw them over the fence at work. He's getting paid in fried food when he gets here." Kafka mentioned, sounding proud of himself. Iharu just shrugged it off, thinking that it sounded like Kafka-appropriate levels of absurdity and that he shouldn't complain too much about it. After all, this removes any and all reason for the third Division to come down here. No chaos, no bodies, no trouble. Which meant that they didn't have to explain to co-workers why they weren't back yet and be forcefully dragged back against their will, so wins all-around honestly.

The squat man from earlier walked over to where the two were talking, carrying two white and unmarked carryout boxes the size of a soccer ball.

"Here, you killed the damn thing. You get first dibs on the spoils." he handed them over and jogged back to his station, now flooded with a line of people wanting to try kaiju squid takoyaki.

The off duty officers looked at each other briefly before rapidly tearing open the top of the box, revealing the most wondrous sight and smell. Inside was a massive takoyaki ball, fried with a variety of fillings, more than just onions and corn and slathered in eel sauce and kewpie mayo, topped with bonito flakes.

'Maybe it was worth almost getting smashed into a pancake.' Iharu thought before diving into the free meal.

########################################

'Cleared the surrounding area of potential causalities in quadrant Charlie, found none. Path of destruction heads east. Permission to follow?" Aoi Kaguragi, a member of the Third Division, relayed the pertinent information through his ear piece, awaiting further instruction.

"Message received, free to follow Kaguragi. Take care." Okonogi relayed back.

Aoi nodded over to his partner for tonight, Haruichi, and the two of them headed in the direction of the chaotic path of broken rubble. The two of them, as well as a small crew had been sent out to examine the emergence site of the recently exposed kaiju. The team was originally sent out to fight the disturbance, but halfway through suiting up, was almost called off due to the honju signature suddenly disappearing. Vice Captain Hoshina had the last say however, and made the crew go out anyway. Saying at the very least they should check for injured and make a damage report. He didn't say this specifically, but the impression was given that, since they were all the way out there, someone might as well find out why the signature disappeared in the first place. Aoi and Haruichi got done first, so they went to find the answers.

Following the cracked pavement lead them to a three-way intersection that had clearly sustained some bludgeoning damage as indicated by the mid-sized honju-like dent in the buildings in front of them. They turned to the right and continued to follow the rows of spider cracks that had imprinted onto the houses and streets, only to have their concentration broken by a passing truck clearly overladen with bulging, lumpy, stained trash bags.

"Was that a giant squid backbone?" Haruichi questioned.

"I'm surprised you know what one looks like." Aoi stated, not letting small things distract him from following the path of structural chaos that led down the street.

"You do know that I go fishing with my cousins on occasion. 'Cook what you catch' kind of vacations."

"What, on your overpriced yacht?" Aoi smirked as he couldn't resist adding a touch of teasing in his voice. Haruichi could come across as so mild mannered some days, it made it hard to picture him as a son of a business tech tycoon. Everyone on the base that knew him would occasionally tease him about it and it seemed that, as polite and agreeable as Aoi was in person, even he wasn't above the periodic ribbing-of-the-rich.

"It's a moderately sized deck boat, thank you very much. If I kick out the family, it should be big enough for the two of us to have some fun. If you're interested, that is?" Haruichi said, words dusted with seduction as he winked at Aoi. Kaguragi's lips thinned in an attempt to not break his resting bitch face at the salacious suggestion.

"Then again, that implies either of us get enough time off to go anywhere these days." Haruichi huffed. Aoi quietly grumbled in agreement before he straightened his attention to the sight down the street.

As the two crested the small hill, the sounds of the festival became more apparent and the smells of the food crashed down on them like a tidal wave of spices and fried oil. They noticed that the damage they had been following seemed to have stopped here suddenly, directly under the Torri gate still covered in ropes. A couple of people on ladders were carefully taking them down and a pair of women, one young and one old, were on their knees scrubbing away at what looked like a large blue ink stain.

"Hello! Sorry to bother you, but have either of you seen a medium sized honju pass through here? We're with the Defense Force and we would like to make sure that the threat isn't still around."

"The big squid spider lookin' thing?" the younger lady of the two said as she looked up.

"I would assume so, we didn't know what it looked like since it seemed to disappear so quickly. My partner and I followed its tracks here, but they don't appear to be anywhere else." Haruicho adjusted the kevlar strap attached to his gun so it would sit squarely on his back and kneeled down to talk to the women face to face.

"A couple of off duty members of yours already took care of it. It was sitting here, spilling its blood on the sidewalk until the big, polite looking oaf got the bright idea to tell Aki that it was edible. Once that got passed around, some of the other seafood fryers wanted to get in on its dismantling and get their own pound of flesh to fry. If ya want to try it, better hurry. It's selling out fast." The old woman pointed to the stalls behind her just as some of them had walked out to write on their respective signs detailing about how they were almost sold out of fried or battered kaiju meat.

Izumo looked back to his partner and could almost see the drool cascading from Kaguragi's open mouth. Aoi looked down at him, hoping that he wasn't going to have to defy a direct order that didn't allow him to get in line. Haruichi dismissed him wordlessly with a hand wave, not that it mattered as Aoi had already left and now it seemed he was trying to use his Defense Force title to skip ahead in line. Sighing at his partner's antics, Haruichi returned to his conversation.

"You mentioned a 'polite looking oaf', and from that description, I have a feeling I might know who you're talking about. Would you mind telling me where the festival savior headed off to?"

"Last I saw, him and his pink haired friend went to celebrate in one of the bars around here. There's several, mind you, but I don't think they've crossed over to the left side yet. Best guess? Stick to the right and see which one sound the loudest." Haruichi thanked the old women for the advice and walked down the street. He stopped by Aoi and told him the same thing before starting his investigation in earnest. The words of the old women came back to mind, however, once he pieced together who the off duty members could be.

'Kafka's with Iharu? Here? That's odd. I thought Iharu was leaving with Reno? And weren't they just heading to a movie? Shouldn't they have been back by now?' Haruichi thought. As he passed down the street, carefully listening to the volume of any of the bars he passed, all he could do was hope that neither of them were too plastered to answer some questions.

#########################################

Haruichi walked up and down the street to get a good idea as to which of the bars seemed to be the loudest and popped his head into a few of of them to see if he could find his fellow co-workers. Third bar he picked seemed to be a karaoke bar. It was fairly narrow, with the bar on the right and the left wall lined with as many booths as one could fit comfortably. There were a couple of standing tables placed offset to each other in the middle of the room it seemed, but it was hard to tell how many there were through the mass of people crammed in the room. From the top of the short set of stairs he was standing on, he could see to the other side of the bar at least and look at the loud drunken pair singing their lungs out on the shallow stage placed at the end of the sitting area.

And who would of guessed it would be the 'polite looking oaf and his pink haired friend'. Kafka was the one holding the mic and had his arm slung over Iharu's shoulder, almost looking like he was putting his full weight on it with how far the two of them were bending toward the ground. Iharu was holding a large beer mug that was a quarter full and was still threatening to spill out onto the floor. The two were heavily engrossed in their rendition of... God, Haruichi couldn't even tell. Thankfully he wasn't subjected to the aural torture much longer as the song finished. While Iharu thanked the very drunk, very enthusiastic crowd for being such good listeners, Haruichi waved his arms over his head and got Kafka's attention.

"Heyyyyy! I'll be DAmned! It's fucken' Haruichi! Holy SHIT!" Kafka exclaimed. He dragged Iharu clumsily off the stage and waved Izumo over to some bar stools that some patrons happily got off of once Kafka explained himself and that his friend from the Defense Force showed up. Haruichi managed to muscle his way through the crowd and make it to the seats next to the others just as Kafka wrapped him up in a massive drunken bear hug.

"God, man! Where you've been? We've been here keeping this party going since we took down that ugly mutherfucker. Hey, you didn't hear about us from Hoshina did you?" Kafka's breath smelled heavily of cheap whisky but wasn't slurring his words half as much as Haruichi thought he would.

"I'll answer your questions if you answer mine. What the hell are you doing here? And with Iharu? I thought him and Reno had a date or something?" Kafka made a silencing gesture with his hand as he got closer to Haruichi.

"I wouldn't try and say that too loud. Reno had to blow the date for a mission and I don't think Iharu's been taking it too well. He had prepaid the movie tickets and I mentioned that I like Ranger Rika films, so now we're here."

"Okay, and what about the kaiju that showed up around here? I heard from the locals that you killed it?" Iharu, who had picked a spot on the other side of the two, had leaned in to hear them better and had perked up at the mention of the kaiju fight.

"OOHHH MAN! HaRU! YOU should of SEEN US, MAN! I wasss running for ma LIFE from that THING! I got chasssed ALL the WAY to the- the.... big red thing and Kafka ;OH man, KAFKA! HE came on it from ABOVE and smacked it with a fucken' LIGHT POLE! A light pole, MAN!" Iharu accentuated his retelling with wild hand gestures and made it clear to Haruichi that either he had more than Kafka did or couldn't hold his liqueur very well.

"Don't mind him, he's on his fourth mug right now. Is the rest of the division here with you?" Kafka asked.

"No, It's just me and Aoi here at the festival. The rest of the group is back at the emergence site making sure there's no casualties and taking a damage toll. Aoi's outside at the festival buying out all the fried food he can get his hands on right now." Haruichi replied, politely refusing the bartender's inquiry of whether or not he would be having a drink.

"Oh, that's nice. here's hoping that he manages to grab some of the kaiju meat before it's gone." Kafka downed another shot of whiskey that the bartender had poured out for him.

"Okay, sure. Last question. Aren't you guys supposed to be back by now?" Haruichi tried to look very pointedly at the two of them when he asked.

'What do you mean by that?" Kafka pounded on his chest as he said, fighting the burning sensation firing its way back up his throat. Izumo looked around appearing very puzzled before he looked back at Kafka.

"I don't know what time you guys left, but you can't tell me the two of you have enough hours to be out here for much longer." Hibino choked on his own spit for a second before trying to respond to Haruichi pointed suggestion, however it seemed to be a second too long as Iharu had already heard him and took the chance to... vocally express his opinion on the matter.

"FUCK THEM HOURS!"

'Iharu, maybe not right now-" Kafka tried to interject.

"NAH! I'M TIRED ABOUT HEARING ABOUT HOW MANY HOURS I GOTTA HAVE OR HOW MANY I GOT LEFT!" Iharu had gotten off of his stool and now began directing his speech to the drunk crowd behind him.

"WHEN I SAY I WANT A DAY OFF, I SHOULD GET THE WHOLE DAY OFF! NOT GET BACK A 'SORRY, CAN'T LET YOU DO THAT' OR 'WE NEED YOU TO COME BACK IN' TWO HOURS INTO A BREAK I SCHEDULED OFF THREE FUCKIN' DAYS AGO!" Now the crowd was cheering for Iharu, getting riled up on his behalf and probably relating as well due to how he worded his rant.

"SAY IT WITH ME! FUCK THEM HOURS!" Iharu started the chant with his mug held high in the air.

"Fuck them hours!" the crowd chanted back.

"FUCK THEM HOURS!" Iharu tried again

"FUCK THEM HOURS!!!" All the people in the room joined in this time.

"You think we should do something?" Haruichi asked.

"I think they're already handling it." Kafka pointed to two tall, well built men dressed in black polos walking over to the center of the crowd where Iharu had made himself at home, driving the people around him into a frenzy. The two at the bar watched as their friend was lifted up, crowd surfing style and was carried to the front door of the bar. They rushed off of their seats and joined in at the back of the mock revolution that was following their leader, still chanting 'Fuck them hours."

The two of them watched as their coworker was unceremoniously tossed onto his ass on the street outside of the bar. Watching their appointed leader get treated with such carelessness seemed to shake the throng of people out of their rebellious state of mind and dispersed quietly. Kafka and Haruichi looked down at a stunned Iharu laying spread eagle, not really sure what he should do next. Kafka decided to lay down next to Iharu while Haruichi sat down on the lip of the sidewalk behind their heads.

"So, you just got your first experience getting kicked out from a bar. How do you feel?" Kafka asked, not looking at Iharu but instead looking up at the stars being framed in the corners of his vision by the lanterns lining the street.

"Ssstars look purtty tonight." Iharu replied, pointing up at the sky with the glass mug he was holding onto inside the bar.

Kafka chuckled, "Yeah, they sure do buddy."

"You think they're going to notice the mug you're still holding?" Haruichi asked, face in his hands and his elbows on his knees. It looked like Iharu finally realized what he was holding as he brought it closer to his face. Looking closer at the mug, he could see that the glass had a pattern molded around the base. An interlocking pattern made up of a six pointed star with tiny branches spouting off the ends of each point. Almost like a snowflake.

Iharu violently convulsed into tears at the thought and curled up into a ball, clutching the beer mug close to his chest.

"Geez, what did I say?" Haruichi asked.

"I have a feeling this is about something else." Kafka said, rolling onto his side to comfort his partner.

"I jussst wanted to take him on a date, isss dat so wrong?" Iharu sobbed, fighting to talk around the mucus building in his throat.

"Reno?" Haruichi asked

"Reno." Kafka replied, hugging Iharu close to his chest as best he can.

"I was going to show him how much we have in common and take him to pretty placesss and buy him nice things! I jussst wanted to tell him how much it meant to me to be his fwend and how much I loved hiiimmm..." Kafka just rubbed his back as his body became racked with shakes from his struggle to breathe. "I jussst wanted to tell him that I thinks he's so cooool and that I think he's pretty when he's asleep and I didn't want to sssound creepy when I did! Why couldn't he be here?" Iharu screamed into Kafka's wind breaker, now stained with tears and mucus.

"It'll be okay. You'll have other chances to tell him." Kafka tried to say reassuringly in the awkward position.

"Buts I wanted to tell him today! I don't think I can wait any longer before I say sssomething ssstupid and ruin everything! And I don't even know if he'll like me baaaack!" Iharu only to calm down slightly, but at least the shaking stopped. Kafka looked back at Haruichi expectantly, silently asking him to help out here. Izumo slid himself off the sidewalk and scooched over to the men making a scene in the middle of the street and placed a hand on the younger one of the three.

"There, there. I'm sure you two will be able to talk it out. I have no doubt that Reno harbors anything less than love for you in his heart."

"Okay, that'sss nice and all, but do we know it's love 'as a fwend' or love 'as a partner'? 'Cuz I really want it to be 'as a partner' but I don't want to tell him if he'sss going to find that uncomfortable." Iharu said as tried his best to wipe his face clean with the sleeve of his jacket. Haruichi pondered for a minute before suggesting a plan.

"Maybe... I could ask?", Iharu looked tearfully behind him as best as possible to look Haruichi in the eyes. "I wouldn't say anything incriminating, just... see if he's open to the possibility?"

This seemed to pacify Iharu a little bit as he brought himself to a sitting position.

"Yeah, but that doesssn't solve what I could do for a date, though. This wasss da best I could come up with and I was racking my brain for a week." Iharu slurred, wiping his face. Kafka up-righted himself as well and scratched his side as he positioned himself perpendicular to Iharu.

"Well, either way, you're going to have to wait and save up time again before you're allowed to head back out." Kafka thought for a moment as he paused in his scratching, "Its the middle of June now, right? Late July, early August is a pretty good time for a beach date. Romantic enough and lots of places do a sorta 'last week of summer hoorah' kinda deal."

"And we're pretty close to the beach. Wouldn't need to save up many hours if you're that desperate for time." Haruichi chimed in. Iharu took all of the information in and, for the first time tonight, seemed genuinely happy. The kind of happiness that can be seen all the way through someone's core.

"Did I miss something?" A familiar, but muffled baritone rang out from the left of the group. It was Aoi, back from a successful shopping spree in the festival. His arms were laden with bags upon bags of different types of food. It was almost comical how many bags there were seeing as one couldn't even find his large torso. Ranging from white plastic bags, to brown paper ones, to clear ones showcasing the goods inside. All seemingly stuffed to the brim.

"Is that... a hamster butt hanging out of your mouth?" Haruichi asked. Aoi quickly chewed and swallowed it so he could speak more clearly.

"Its hamster shaped kikufuku mochi. I almost feel guilty eating them because they're so cute. Unfortunately for them, they're just as good as they look. Don't worry, I bought enough for everyone. Three of these boxes are for me though." Aoi paused and stared at the bags really hard for a second. "Actually, it's two now, but my point still stands."

######################################

Haruichi made the suggestion that, maybe, they should be making their way back to base but Iharu became very irate at that suggestion. So to pacify him, the pair-turned-quartet walked around the festival a little longer, buying some more food to help Iharu feel more like his happier self. Well, everyone else walked. Kafka started giving Iharu a piggy back ride when it seemed like he was swaying on his feet and complained about foot pain. They had made it halfway down the other side of the street when Kafka looked over and saw something that jogged his memory. Aoi noticed the feeling of disconnect in the group and turned around, causing Haruichi to look as well.

It was another Torri gate, nestled between two brick buildings, looking like it was erected as a protective marker. Blocking against the bustle of the festival, locked behind its towering height was a well worn stone path trailing up and to the left, hiding its destination behind a thick grove of trees. What refreshed Kafka's memory, however, was that the trail was lined with a multitude of overly colorful paper lanterns in a variety of shapes and sizes. The stillness of the trees and the ethereal light pouring out from the lanterns contrasted against the feeling that came from being out on the street. It really felt like there was a chance one could get swept away by playful spirits if one made the decision to turn off from the sidewalk and explore this detour.

"Hey, Iharu? Kafka asked, shifting his friend's weight on his back and rousing him from the light slumber he was about to slip into.

"Yeah," Iharu said sleepily, "What's up?"

"Didn't you say there was a shrine that you wanted to take Reno to that had paper lanterns and was close to the festival?" Iharu looked over at what Kafka was looking at and lit up a little at the memory.

"Oh yeah! Thisss might be it actually." Kafka looked over at the other two members of the party.

"I think we're going to take a detour. He had plans to stop by the place earlier. The path ahead might be long, so you can go ahead on back, If you want."

"Oh, no. We're sticking with you to make sure you both actually make it back to base." Haruichi walked over to stand under the gate and made an 'after you' kind of gesture. Kafka shrugged his shoulders and walked ahead of Izumo and Kaguragi.

The path had no steps, but sloped upwards gently. Turning sharply left then right then back again, it took the group on a slow and peaceful journey up a hidden hill behind the buildings back on the main boulevard. Kafka was in the lead, setting a slow pace with a sleepy Iharu on his back while Aoi and Haruichi had a quiet discussion further back. Still keeping pace, but leaving enough room between the two of them as to not make things feel rushed.

The path lived up to its initial impression back at its entrance. The trees seemed to block any sound from the festival down at ground level. Not to make things eerily quiet, was a methodical thrumming of cicadas and crickets weaving through the quiet rush of leaves dancing in the light wind. The lanterns were attached to arms connected to rough-hew logs and cast their warm, glassy light over the leaves, bushes, and stones. The shards of colored light danced over Iharu's partially lidded eyes, preforming a hypnotic dance that succeeded in keeping him half awake, half asleep.

His thoughts walked themselves backwards through the events of the day. Starting with the foods and the drinking, quickly sweeping past the terrifying chase against the giant squid monster, slowly reliving the events after, though, and before the movie theater. All the way back to the start, with Reno. Was he sad that he didn't get to do any of this with Reno? Absolutely. But considering the alternative was spending three hours in the barracks, wrapped up in a bare minimum of three stolen blankets, and blowing all that time feeling shitty about the situation he was in; getting to experience all of this anyway, in spite of how he wanted things to go, and having fun with someone he always worked with and was now getting this chance to be closer to as friends... well... this night did a fine job of making him happy anyway. And that was okay.

"Hey... this was nice." Iharu mumbled as he nuzzled Kafka's shoulder. Kafka just gave a big, warm smile back and let Iharu enjoy the scenery as they continued to find the end of the path.

The group finally hit a set of stairs that led to the main part of the shrine. Cresting the top of them, they were greeted with a lovely sight. A moderately sized shrine and a couple outbuildings were surrounded in the thick grove of trees on this hill. The lightly cloudy night sky was visible only in the center of the grove, with a half moon peaking out from the edge of the canopy's opening. It initially seemed that the main source of light was coming from candles and more of the lanterns that lined the path up here. Looking around longer proved that a building off to the right had electric lighting and was the one providing the most light. The light bulbs inside seemed to have attracted all the bugs in the forest and made the projecting light flicker chaotically onto the ground.

Both the shrine and the buildings around it appeared to be old, but very well maintained. Shimenawa ropes of all sizes lined the roofs of the Shrine and select other buildings. The candles, some exposed; others in glass containers, were on the floor of the main shrine and illuminated the collection box at the end of the stone path.

The four of them walked down to the end to pay their respects and make donations. Since Aoi's hands were full and he didn't have much money left after his buying spree, Haruichi paid for them both. Kafka's wallet was in the back pack on Iharu's back. So, without jumping off, Iharu took off the bag and pulled out both of their wallets. Kafka had plenty left but Iharu only had a couple 1000 yen bills and a lot of spare change. He dug out some 5 yen coins and tossed them in with Kafka's donation, still riding on his back. Haruichi made his and the whole group held their hands together in silent prayer.

The group turned around after a moment and walked back toward the entrance they came through. This time staying closer to the right as another group of people walked into the holy grounds as well. Sticking closer to the right afforded the group a good look at the wares the only properly illuminated building was selling. It was mainly some snacks and wooden key chains. There was the omikuji box of course, right next to a display of handmade protective charms and talismans. There was a man on the inside working away, oblivious to the world as a women sang a gentle song on a small black radio. Iharu glanced over the selection of charms and saw one that immediately caught his eye.

"Hey! Heyheyheyheyhey." Iharu's hand shook as he pointed at the charms display.

"What? What is it?" Kafka asked, trying to look at where Iharu's hand was pointing at.

"Looklooklooklook. The blue one." Iharu said vaguely. Kafka walked closer and leaned in to scan the display stand better. He found the light blue one that Iharu was pointing at. It didn't stand out much more differently than the rest, with all of them having the same complicated looking decorative knot pattern and they all were made with different colors of fabric. What he finally put together was that the pattern on the fabric... had snowflakes on it.

Kafka sighed heavily. "I take it you want the blue one for Reno?"

"Yeah, yeahyeahyeah." Iharu nodded quickly.

"You do realize you're broke now, right? You don't have enough money on you to pay for one." Kafka stated. Iharu hung his head and started to whimper loudly and pathetically into Kafka's shoulder.

All Hibino did was sigh heavily again. "Hand me my wallet." Furuhashi gave a small, delighted squeal as he dug out Kafka's wallet again. He paid the man for the charm and turned to meet back up with the other two. Looking around, they found them at a different part of the grounds, standing by a makeshift stall. Getting closer, they could see that it was selling bottles of plum wine and offering free samples to interested buyers. Aoi was sampling his, while Haruichi was having a conversation with the old lady running the stall. Aoi nudged Haruichi to let him not be shocked by their arrival. As Haruichi let Kafka in on the discussion he was having, Iharu immediately spaced out of it and let his eyes wander over the stall. The eyes eventually landed on the label that was on the bottles.

"Oooohhh!" Iharu cooed, "There's snowflakes on it."

"Don't tell me you want to gift Reno that too?" Kafka said exasperatedly. Iharu started to whine again as Haruichi passed a small wad of money over to the shocked lady behind the table.

"That's okay. I shouldn't be needing a whole case of wine anyway." Haruichi walked over to the side and grabbed a large plastic crate of wine bottles.

"And yet... You're buying a whole case of it anyway?" Aoi said with a raised eyebrow. As they walked back to the entrance, Izumo pulled out a bottle and tried to slide it into the open portion of the bag on Iharu's back.

"It's called 'Supporting local businesses'. And it wouldn't hurt to have something to surprise him with on that beach da- Hey!" Haruichi refuted as Iharu pulled out another bottle from the crate as he backed away.

"And, yoink!" the mischievous mohawked man giggled as he held his ill-gotten prize over his supplier's hands.

"Haven't the two of you had enough alcohol tonight?" Aoi said, witnessing the altercation.

"Hey, we made plans to get plastered tonight and I'm still feeling way too sober for that goal." Kafka said as he helped Iharu keep the bottle out of Haruichi's reach.

"You are a horrible role model, you know that?" Izumo said, giving up on the task in favor of protecting the rest in the crate.

"Eh, open." Iharu said, rudely tapping the lip of the bottle to Kafka's mouth.

"Ya could say please, ya know." Kafka returned as he took the bottle from Iharu. He did a partial transformation on his mouth and stuck the largest fang into the cork at the top. Wiggling slightly, the stopper popped satisfyingly and as he spit the cork into his hand, Iharu took the opportunity to steal the wine back.

"HEY! Leave me a sip of that, will YA?"

###########################################

The group made it back to street level and started back on the path to headquarters. They began the trip with the intention of taking a bus back, assuming the truck that Haruichi and Aoi came in on already left without them. The two of them weren't surprised, they were the ones that offered to look for the missing kaiju signature and haven't reported back on it yet, as it was hard to do so since the earpieces only have so much range. And seeing as how long the two of them had been gone and how late it was, they thought that it would be less of a hassle if they hiked it back to base and went inside quietly, just to give their reports in the morning.

The closest bus station was still a ways away, so the group started to walk in the general direction. The walk was quickly derailed as they passed the restaurant that sold Kafka and Iharu their new hats. With some major protesting from Aoi, who was against the idea, Haruichi purchased a dark navy blue one for Aoi and a vibrant red one with silver stars for himself anyway, seeing as Aoi still had his hands full with bags and physically could not intervene. The grumbled protests from Aoi were eventually silenced when he got to keep a large chocolate peanut butter milkshake all to himself.

Thankfully, the bus ride home was uneventful, save for Iharu drunkenly talking Haruichi's ears off when he asked what the Ranger Rika film was all about. However, problems began to arise again as they reached the main gate of the base.

"Ssso, how are we gonna get inside?" Iharu slurred from the top of Kafka's back. He started to carry him again after they got off the bus and saw that he was still swaying on his feet. They were all the way through the empty parking lot and reached the imposing security wall that surrounded the institution. Just under half a kilometer, was the double gated entry point. One of three that were imbedded in the thick concrete barrier.

"What do you mean?" Izumo asked as he turned around to look at the two behind him.

"We probably should've been back, like, hours ago. So if we show our i.d's to the guard, we're probably going to get flagged and that's not something that we want to deal with right now." Kafka said slowly, the gratuitous amounts of alcohol finally catching up with him.

"Did you guys have any sort of plan to get back inside quietly after this little exhibition of yours?" Aoi asked as Haruichi just looked annoyed. Kafka looked back at Iharu as Iharu could only shrug back an answer. He looked back and thought hard for a minute.

"Well... I think Shiggys' working the east gate tonight." Kafka said.

"And... Who's Shiggy?" Haruchi inquired.

"Oh, he's super chill. Dude works the late shift and isn't really a 'by the books' kinda guy. If either one of you has an i.d. on ya, he'll probably just let the whole group on in, no question." Aoi and Haruichi looked at each other, silently debating if they should go through with this. Aoi tried to give a very pointed look to Haruichi, indicating that he should be the one to whip out the i.d., but Haruichi had to defend himself.

"Sorry, but I only carry some cash out on missions. I leave the wallet and cards in my locker."

"Why do you even bring cash with you in the first place?" Iharu mumbled out.

"Last second grocery buys. Snacks, body wash, other things I forget sometimes." Haruichi turned back to Aoi. "So what about you? You can't tell me an ex-military officer doesn't carry at least six forms of identification for emergencies." he mocked. Aoi looked at Izumo, down to the ground in deep thought, gave a hard glance at the plethora of bags he was still holding, and finally hung his head in defeat. Kaguragi sighed heavily as he turned his back to his partner.

"Haruichi... I give you permission to touch my ass." Haruichi gasped in delight as he carelessly dropped the plastic box of wine and wiggled his fingers in excitement.

"Ooohhoohoo! This is a rare treat! What's the occasion, might I ask?"

"If I'm right, my wallet should be in my left back pocket. JUST the left one." Aoi said, looking back with a very pointed expression.

"Yeah you say that, but maybe I should check the right side too. Just to be sure." Haruichi giggled darkly, clearly taking too much joy out of this.

"Do that and I break your ha-nds!" Aoi's voice cracked when Haruichi slyly pinched both of his ass cheeks.

"Ah, would you look at that! Found it." He said as he pulled out the wallet.

"Kafka... shoot me if I ever start acting like that around Reno." Iharu said.

"I don't know. It's kind of endearing... in a weird way." Kafka quirked an eyebrow at the odd scene.

"Ah, trouble. I'm not seeing your base i.d., babe." Haruichi said after a few seconds of rummaging around in the wallet.

"You're sure? Fuck." Aoi cursed quietly. "Do I even trust you enough to look in my front pockets?"

"Nope. I'm going to look anyway." Haruichi giggled again as Aoi visibly winced at the feeling of the other's hands slowly sliding into his thin front pockets from behind. Izumo's hands didn't stick around long, which Kaguragi was thankful for, but it only brought them back to the original problem.

"I'm not feeling your i.d. in here either." Haruichi said as he gently patted Aoi's hips.

"Shiiiiiiiit. That means I never took it off the lanyard in my locker." Aoi threw his head back in disappointment. While this exchange was going on, Kafka and Iharu were looking off in the distance, specifically at the impossibly tall wall. Kafka scanned the parking lot to make sure that there wasn't that many cars to worry about and asked Iharu a question.

"You think If I run fast enough, I can scale that?" He said, nodding to the concrete barrier.

"What, in kaiju form?" Iharu contemplated for a moment, "Yeah. I think you could."

"I know I could, but what about if I carry three other people?" Kafka nodded back to the other two who were deep in what seemed to be a battle plan discussion. "Plus baggage."

Iharu took a long look at the pair next to them while he processed what Kafka was suggesting. He began to chuckle darkly as it all fell into place for him.

"I don't know man, but it be hilarious to try." The two of them began to chuckle in agreement before Kafka decided to put his plan into action.

"Haruichi! Grab the box. I wanna try something." Kafka said as he walked into position.

"Oh, that's great! Honestly, me and Aoi here were getting nowhere with a pla-HEY!" Haruichi cried out as Kafka grabbed him by the waist forcefully after he picked up the crate. Aoi was also none too pleased with where this plan was going, shall we say.

"Passengers, this is your captain speaking. Flight Kafka 690 will be taking off shortly, so please make sure that all baggage is secure and accounted for before it's wheels up and time for take-off." Iharu said smugly as Kafka walked back a few feet, holding a struggling Haruichi and Aoi.

"This is BY FAR the stupidest plan I have ever been forced to be a part oooOOFFFF!" Haruichi screamed as Kafka began to run full sprint toward the insanely high wall. As he got closer, his legs turned into his kaiju ones and the flaps on his calves flared open to reveal the after burners the transformation offered. Jumping onto the wall itself, Kafka's afterburners set fire to the bottom of his pant legs as he rocketed himself and everyone he was carrying into the sky. He could feel his back and elbows transform too to help him keep his back straight as the burners on his elbows helped stabilize him as he somehow managed to stay rooted to his path.

"Kafka you BASTARD!" Aoi screamed.

"If I drop this, I'll KILL YOU!" Haruichi mirrored, changing his grip on the crate of wine, somehow having not dropped any bottles yet.

"FUCK YEAAAAAHHHH!" Iharu cries of joy overshadowed the screams of the others.

"ALLLLMOOOOST THERRRREEE!" Kafka shouted, deep in concentration. The top of the wall got closer and closer, the end of this terrifying ride nearly in sight. The screams of the whole group rose to a deafening peak as Kafka just barely passed the edge of the wall. Relief was felt only for a brief moment when a noticeable shock wave passed through Kafka's body and transferred into the bodies of the others.

"Oh shit." a collective conclusion that was voiced by the whole group.

#########################################

It was just passed one in the morning when Reno and the team he was with made it back to base. He was so very tired. No one ended up being injured, thank God, but the anxiety of the situation took a severe toll on everyone involved. The mole kaiju were easy to take out, but the process to do so ended up becoming the world's most stressful game of literal Wack-a-mole.

Reno thought things would get better when everything was over, feeling hopeful on the chopper ride back, but when Reno pulled up his Chatter app and saw he's feed was just a timeline of Iharu and Kafka having the time of their lives at the food festival, it really put a damper on the ride back.

'I guess he really wanted to leave base today' Reno thought somberly. Iharu was his own person. If he wanted to leave, that's on him. If he wanted to take someone with him, that's on him too.

'It's just... I really wanted to go with him. And thought... he wanted me too..." Reno packed away his gun and excess supplies into his locker, feeling sluggish as he did. Suddenly, a loud metallic slamming noise decided to ring out through the locker room that he was in and dislodged him from his thoughts. Suit half unzipped, Reno tied the sleeves around his waist as he looked down the aisles to see where the door slamming was coming from.

Looking down the row behind him, he saw what seemed to be a very pissed off Kikoru Shinomiya, telling by the feral growling and tearing at her spare bio suit.

"Ummm... Is everything okay? Shinomiya?" Reno asked tentatively.

"I"M GOING TO MURDER THAT PRAWN HEADED RAT BASTARD!" Kikoru growled out as she finally managed to get her lower half into the power suit. Reno only became increasingly concerned now knowing this unbridled rage had something to do with Iharu. He couldn't ask anymore questions, however, since Vice Captain Soshiro Hoshina decided now would be the time to make his presence known.

"Reno. Good to see that you and the rest are back safely."

"Ah! V-vice Captain." Reno stuttered out, startled. "I was just getting my stuff packed before I joined the others for the after mission briefing."

"Good to know, but I think the rest of the team can make the report without you for now." Hoshina said curtly.

"S-sir?" Reno questioned vaguely.

"Don't worry, it's nothing life shattering. I just want to ask you about what the original plans you had with Iharu Furuhashi were about." Hoshina said, his voice giving off the sense that there was some concealed irritation.

"Um, plans? You mean the trip to the movies?" Reno asked.

"Yes, and where you were... haa, hold that thought. Go for Hoshina" he said as his hand made it up to his earpiece.

"Hoshina, this is Okonogi. We've got a massive disturbance at the front gate."

"Define 'disturbance'." Hoshina requested. If one looked closely, you could almost see his temple throbbing in a matched rhythm with his heart.

"I'm pulling security footage now. It's... Kafka Hibino, Sir? It appears that he is trying to... run up? The outer wall and is carrying three other Division members."

"I'm sorry? Other Division members?" Hoshina clarified.

"Yes Sir, that is correct. Just a moment... It looks to be Iharu Furuhashi, Aoi Kaguragi, and Haruichi Izumo. The absent members from this afternoon."

"What the hell is going on?" Reno asked, adjusting his own earpiece to the main channel, wanting to be included in the conversation.

"Sir, update! Kafka had made it up the wall, but has tripped and all four of them are in free fall on the other side" Okonogi reported. Hoshina's sigh turned into an exasperated growl toward the end.

"Come along Reno. We're apparently going to have to save our respective dumbasses." Hoshina turned to leave the room with a puzzled Reno trailing behind.

"Respective dumbasses?" Kikoru muttered. Immediately, a light came on upstairs. "Not until I get a hold of that ASSHOLE FIRST!" Kikoru turned and blasted past the vice captain and ran in the opposite direction of the front gate.

"Who put a bug in her suit?" Hoshina asked as they both leaned on the doorframe and watched her go.

"WRONG DIRECTION, KIKORU!" Reno added helpfully.

######################################

"SSSHHHHIIIIIIIIT" Everyone screamed as they realized what was happening. Kafka relaxed his arms as Haruichi and Aoi planted their feet on his hips and pushed themselves away as far as they could. Iharu, though, hung on for dear life. Haruichi and Aoi still had the their bio suits on, so the landing from such a height didn't give them much trouble. Izumo landed on the balls of his feet and managed to roll with the momentum onto his thighs, through his knees and back onto his butt. All while managing to keep all the wine bottles in the crate. Well, most of them. Two had slipped out during descent and were still up in the air. He rushed forward, leaped into the air, and grabbed them before they touched the ground. Aoi just tanked the landing and kept on his feet.

"You good?" Haruichi asked.

"Just fine." Aoi said through gritted teeth.

Kafka and Iharu were not so lucky.

Kafka also tried to roll into the fall, but messed up and landed on his foot weirdly. Iharu still hadn't let go at this point, so when Kafka fell to the ground, Iharu's knee made contact next.

"Fuck! That was a knee!" Iharu exclaimed. Once momentum seemed to stop, the two of them untangled and rolled away from each other.

"Well, that didn't look pleasant." A sly voice from away came into clarity.

"Vice Captain!" said Haruichi.

"Vice Captain, Sir." said Aoi when he felt recovered enough to speak.

"Well, shit." came from Kafka, knowing he'd been caught.

"YOU THIEVING PIECE OF CRAP!" Kikoru had made a beeline to the crumpled Iharu and began to physically berate him with her foot. "WHERE THE HELL IS MY BRADA BACK PACK?"

"Here, here! It's right here! WAIT, MY SHIT'S STILL INSIDE!" Iharu said as he handed over the stolen bag, only to realize too late that he left his gifts inside.

"I can see that! What is this? Wine? Plum wine? and a beer glass?" Kikoru took a whiff inside the mug, "A used BEER GLASS? What the hell is this doing in here?" Kikoru pulled out a ring of keys next.

"And who the hell's keys are these?' She asked. Hoshina immediately took them from her hand and looked at them in his.

"Kafka... why the hell does Iharu have my keys in a stolen back pack?" Hoshina said, gritting the words through his teeth. Kafka and Iharu looked at each other for a moment before shouting in unison

"OH SHIT! WE FORGOT THE BIKE!"

"YOU WHAT?" Soshiro screamed, hauling Hibino up by his collar.

"And is this... are there FRY CRUMBS IN MY BRADA? IS THAT A CHILE SAUCE STAIN? IN MY BRADA?" Kikoru began to weaponize the empty bag and used it to beat the already downed Iharu.

"Oh, damn. I didn't know that was Brada." Haruichi said, trying to pass by the commotion.

"Thanks Captain Obvious, I think we figured that out." Kafka retorted as he was dragged off the ground by Hoshina.

"NONE of you go too far. You all have some explaining to do." Hoshina said, gripping tightly to Kafka' forearm.

"Kikoru, I think he's had enough!" Reno said as he finally stepped into view and intervened in the one sided fight between the two of them. As he helped Iharu off the ground he asked, "Hey, are you alright?"

It didn't take Iharu very long to realize who was helping him up and immediately threw his arms around Reno's neck.

"AEDZGJNSTR, RENO! You're back! I'm so happy now!" he said as he gurgled drunkenly around his words. "I'm so happy that you're back! I was missing you all day. I'm sorry that left without youuu. I prepaid the tickets and Kafka said I should use them, so I did, but I was wishing that you were there 'cuz it was a great movie and I went to the festival without you too and it was making me sad, but I had food and I thought I would be okay and then I saw this mug and it reminded me of you-" Iharu broke away to grab the somehow intact mug from Kikoru's hands.

"It was this mug, 'cuz see! It has snowflakes on it and it made me think of you and how much I missed you and how I wanted to take you with me on the date but I couldn't and I thought about how I thought I blew my chance to tell you that I love you-" he took a big deep breath, "But Kafka and Haruichi said that I could take you to the beach and I felt happy again so the mug made me happy again because it still reminds me of you so I want you to have it." Iharu had finally stopped talking for a moment and looked deep into Reno's widened eyes with his watery, eager ones. Reno could feel his face start to burn once he slowed down all the words that Iharu had said and realized what it meant. Before Reno could even begin to tell him anything, Iharu looked like he remembered something else and turned back to a stunned Kikoru, who had been listening to the entire conversation. He grabbed the protective charm and the bottle of wine and clumsily shoved them into Reno's hands.

"Oh! Also, Me and Kafka and Haruichi and Aoi all went to this shrine that I wanted to show you because I thought it was pretty and you remind me of pretty things and when I was there I saw this charm and it has snowflakes on it, so of course I had to buy it- well, Kafka bought it, but I still want you to have it 'cuz its pretty and do you think they'll let me put this on your gun? 'cuz I think that would be cool-ohohoh! OR I could put it on the suit! That would be really cool if they let me do that. Oh and speaking of cool- looklooklook-" Iharu picked up the bottle of plum wine and showed him the label.

"This has snowflakes on it too! It's going to be a surprise when I take you on our beach date in a few weeks!" Iharu had wrapped his hands back around Reno's neck and begun to swing themselves around, causing Reno to put his already full hands on Iharu's waist to keep themselves upright.

"I'm going to save up my hours again and when we go to the beach, we're gonna go on a picnic and I'm gonna break out the bottle and I'm gonna tell you how much I looove youuu and how much I like being around youuu and how much I like being yourrr rivaaal..." Iharu had finally stopped spinning them around and leaned all the way onto Reno, wrapping his hands tightly around his crush's shoulders.

"Doesn't that sound really nice?" He whispered, gently nosing the shell of Reno's ear.

Reno felt like he was shaking. Whether from shock or excitement, he wasn't sure. He took the bottle that was still in Iharu's hand and tightened his around the sleepy drunk's waist. He felt his face flush even harder, blood flooding his brain and making his ears and shoulders feel like a million degrees in the cool night air. Burying his face into Iharu's shoulder, Reno confessed his only thought on his mind.

"That... sounds amazing, Iharu." But Iharu wasn't listening. Having fallen asleep, nuzzled into Reno's neck and breathing softly, almost snoring.

"Well, wasn't that a touching display." Hoshina said sarcastically, not one to let the quiet stand infinitely. "He's still getting a hefty reprimand, as well as you." He said, directing the last bit of statement to Kafka, which he was now holding by the ear.

"What the fuck possessed you to write in three hundred AND THIRTY SIX HOURS? DID YOU THINK YOU COULD HONESTLY GET AWAY WITH THAT? AND YOU LEFT MY BIKE BEHIND?" Hoshina said as he began to drag Kafka away, causing the rest of the group to cringe in response to the abuse.

"Forget a week of janitorial duty! It's a month- no, three months! And you can forget the office sex too!" Aoi and Haruichi were nodding along solemnly to what Hoshina was saying, mentally grieving for Kafka and any spare time he would've had, only to snap back to reality at the last bit of punishment.

"Oh, come on! It was a joke- wait, lets thINK ABOUT THIS!" Kafka cried, 'Three months for a joke is a bit much, don't ya think! I'll get the bike back, I swear!"

"YOU CAN'T EVEN DRIVE IT! If you keep arguing, I'll cut out the blowjobs too!" Hoshina said sternly, still dragging Kafka away. His cries of disappointment were heard all the way to the guard house.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ Bonus/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"You sure you don't want help with that?" Kikoru asked, carrying her (apparently) expensive black back pack and a couple plastic bags of food that Aoi got her at the food festival.

"No thank you, I'm good." Reno said as he struggled to carry an asleep Iharu, the items he got for him, and the bags of food that Aoi also got for him.

"Are you at least aware that you have to make a left turn in about twenty feet?" Kikoru retorted, smiling smugly at all the trouble that Reno was going through to not disturb Iharu's sleep.

"Yes, Kikoru, I know where I'm going. A fair bit better than you, since you still can't remember where the front door is." Kikoru snobbishly stuck her nose in the air at the insult.

"The front door was always down and to the right of the of the mission personnel lockers. It still seems stupid that they would change the layout in such a drastic manner."

"Whatever Kikoru. Have a good night." Reno turned to go into the male barracks as Kikoru parted to go to her side of the building.

He walked into the area holding the bunks and put Iharu down on Reno's bed since Furuhashi slept on the top bunk. Reno knew better than to try and get him up there by himself. He set him down as gently as he could, making sure not to catch any of the gifts under Iharu. Reno set his stuff down and leaned over to put the deeply asleep soldier's feet on the bed, and since he was down there, took off Iharu's shoes too. Carefully wrenching the sheets out from under the body, Reno tucked him in as gently as possible. Getting shocked for a moment when Iharu shifted and grabbed the blanket from Reno's hands, but when all Iharu did was tuck the sheet under his chin, Reno let out the breath he didn't know he held.

Not wanting to leave him alone so soon, however, Reno took a pillow from another bunk and placed it on the floor about where Iharu's head was. Getting to the floor as carefully as possible, he sat down on the pillow and opened the bags of food, courtesy of Aoi. He rummaged around quietly and started to pull out some of the goods based on what seemed more delicious at the moment, eventually pulling out a large, marked takeout box that just said 'kaiju squid' on the top.

Before he opened it, he felt a hand lightly smack him on the back of the head. Reno turned around, thinking that he somehow ended up waking Iharu, only to see that he was just shifting in his sleep. A hand was now exposed from its place from under the covers and was hanging limply from the bed's edge. Thinking for a moment, Reno gathered some courage and bravely placed Iharu's hand on the top of his head. In doing so, he could feel Iharu's fingers lightly twitching in his hair, almost like it was trying to brush through it in his sleep. Reno just smiled and went back to his midnight meal.

(holy fucking shit, I did it! I got this made! World, prepare to meet my first public fanfic.)

[cartoonghosts]

god my middle school fp relationship sucked. Like I know this but looking back on it WOW was that the worst one ive had. They were a fine persin the relationship itself was just very bad

[hyperfixating-rn-brb]

the best feeling when you can't remember a fic's title that you read months ago and absolutely loved and find it in the depths of your bookmarks and it turns out to be a fic by @caedmonfaith

[octalians]

Checked my AO3 stats and when I look at my 10 fics with the biggest word count out of 52 works a good chunk of them are for MML. I am normal I promise

[reblog-house]

I am so desperately trying to sleep but I can't stop giggling. Why am I always like this with my blorbos. At least if it were a crush or hell, a squish, it'd make sense. But no. I am just. I just go very giggly and kick-feet and hehehehe.

[mariasont]

That anon was living under a rock because your smut fics (all of your fics tbh!) I reread wayyy to many times, lol. But if you’re taking smut requests, I’d love to see more bimbo!reader and Hotch! I can’t get enough.

I’ll take anything!! But more specifically, their first time, all of that built up tension (that you write so perfectly!) finally breaks!

Anyways, I never send in requests but I saw a window of opportunity and had to take it, haha.

Third Date Rule - A.H

summary: the third date proves to be worth the wait when you and hotch experience your first time together. pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader warnings: 18+ MDNI, sexy time, fingering, oral fem receiving, p in v, they did not in fact wrap it before tapping it and it's not really discussed so yeah idk about that one, aftercare wc: 7.7k

This was so overdue.

Technically, it's only been three dates. Technically.

But if you count all the years you'd known him, the months spent daydreaming about this moment, the weeks of waiting while he played the world's longest game of restraint, then really, you should have had him naked ages ago.

And if Aaron (which still feels like a thrill to say — Aaron — because you're dating now and you can freely call him that) wasn't so stubborn and noble and insufferably gentlemanly, you would have.

But tonight was finally the night. The third date. The sacred, hallowed, much-debated, universally accepted gateway to getting into the sheets. And yes, okay, maybe you barely survived the wait without jumping his bones, but that's hardly relevant now. The point is, you did it.

And now you're in his lap, his tie wound tight around your fingers, his tongue deep in your mouth, and gods, if this night didn't end with him inside you, you might actually die. 

Like, literally. Heart failure. Sudden death.

This was premeditated. At least, for you. You moisturized like your life depended on it, doused yourself in perfume that could be classified as a controlled substance, and selected a bra that made your tits look so insane, it might actually be illegal in some states.

And then you spent an embarrassing amount of time picking the perfect dress that says oh, I'm classy, but also please take me home and rip this off with your teeth.

You pull away, just enough to see him. To take in the slow bloom of pink trailing from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, the way his pupils are so wide they’ve all but erased the brown of his eyes. And his lips — swollen and red from kissing you — part like he was debating how bad it would be to drag you right back in. You wouldn’t mind.

“Aaron,” you sigh, fingers burying into his hair, marveling at how absurdly soft it is, how freely he lets you have this piece of him. “We should go to bed.”

For a second, he locks up. Not hesitation but calibration, a body processing desire so sharp it might break him. You feel it in the way his chest expands, in the quiet exhale through his nose.

"This wasn't my plan for the night," he murmurs, voice softer now, not strained, but steeped in something much gentler. Something careful. "I wasn't —," He shakes his head, like the whole concept doesn’t sit right in his mouth. "I don't want you to think this is just —,"

"Sex?"

You can see the way he wants to argue, like he wants to carve the word out of the air and replace it with something that means more.

"Yes."

You can’t stop the stupid, lovestruck smile pulling at your lips. Maybe it’s the wine from dinner finally working its magic. (It’s not.) Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, all serious and earnest, like you’re the only thing in existence, and if he blinks, you might vanish. (It definitely is.)

A laugh bubbles up, light and giddy, body not knowing what to do with all this adoration. You lean in, pressing a kiss to his jaw, just to see if he’ll let you. (He does.)

“Are you serious? If you just wanted sex, you wouldn’t have spent actual years pretending my very dedicated, very expertly executed attempts to seduce you weren’t happening.”

His brow arches, but you see it for what it is — a stall. “Expertly, huh?”

"Remember that heatwave last summer? When I just had to eat a popsicle at my desk every afternoon?"

His eyes darken like the memory is playing in high definition behind his eyes.

"I remember."

"Do you?" Your fingers slip beneath his color. “Because —” You tilt your head. “I always seemed to finish them standing in front of your office —"

You don't even get to finish your sentence. 

One second, you’re speaking, the next, you’re airborne. Lifted clean off the couch, legs locking around his waist automatically, arms thrown around his shoulders like you planned this all along.

You didn’t, but you wish you had. 

Not that it matters, because he’s already moving, already walking straight to the bedroom.

You bury your smile against his jaw, letting your breath tickle against the shell of his ear as another giggle slips out. It couldn’t be helped.

"I really hope you know," you whisper, “that I am, like, stupidly excited for this. Like, counting down the days excited.”

Aaron sets you down on the mattress gently, but his body doesn’t follow right away, hovering over you.

"You're not making this easy for me."

You ignore him because you’re much more distracted by how insanely soft his sheets are. That was your first thought when your back hits the mattress, hair fanning across the pillows.

For a fleeting second, you wonder if he’ll catch the scent of your perfume tomorrow. If he’ll notice the ghost of you when he lays down alone.

Your second was that this is so not the time nor place to get emotional. 

But this is his space. His bed. His room.

It’s tidy, but somehow not sterile, everything having its place, but not afraid to be used. A book sits on the nightstand, a book mark sticking out mid-thought. A photo frame faces the bed, though from this angle you struggle to see what’s inside.

There’s his suit jacket from yesterday, draped over the back of a chair, a little rumpled. 

And maybe it's silly, but you feel weirdly honored to be here.

You should probably be processing this moment, what it means to be here, with him, like this. Instead, you take a second to admire the view.

The lamp softens the sharp lines of his face, making him look almost gentle — which is funny, considering how you hoped to be thoroughly destroyed by him.

Something expands inside you, stretching against the walls of your chest, something too big, something that terrifies you.

So you do what you do best. You deflect.

“I can’t believe I’m about to sleep with my boss.”

He doesn’t even try to hide his exasperation, his forehead dropping into the crook of your neck. “Sweetheart—,”

"What?" You giggle, letting your fingers slide through his hair, letting your nails rake lightly over his scalp. "It's true."

His sigh is nothing short of pained, but then he kisses your cheek anyway, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. You were starting to feel like each was a thinly veiled attempt to tame you.

"Please don't phrase it like that."

"Yes, Mr. Hotchner." 

Every self-satisfied thought evaporates the moment he kisses you – really kisses you.

It’s not just a meeting of lips but a focused intensity, tongue sweeping inside your mouth and suddenly nothing before this mattered, because clearly, clearly, every kiss you’ve ever had was just practice for this one. 

Your body responds before your mind can catch up, spine arching and he doesn’t stop you, just kisses you with a hunger that makes teasing obsolete, that makes breathing secondary to the way he’s taking from you, giving to you, all at once.

His lips wander, dragging across your jaw like he’s leaving invisible ink behind, pressing something permanent into your skin.

You hope you’ll wake up tomorrow and still feel him there.

Your hands move to the nape of his neck, drawn by craving, by the need circling inside you like a ribbon of fire.

It stretches outward, licking at your skin, threading through your veins. His hands hold you still, spanning over your rib. His breath fans over your pulse, and you swear he can feel how fast it’s racing.

You should be gloating right now. This is, after all, exactly what you wanted, what you worked for. A biting remark sits on the top of your tongue, but then his mouth moves, and he finds it.

That wicked, traitorous little dip beneath your jaw that turns your entire brain into pink, glittering static. He pauses, listening, feeling, before sealing his mouth over it again, tongue dragging over the sensitive skin like he’s testing a theory that he already knows the answer to.

Your fingers clench in his hair, a startled sound choking in your throat before you can stop it. And then, the bastard laughs. Not sweet, not kind, but low and sharp and smug because he knows exactly what he’s done. 

You had the upper hand. Past tense.

"There it is," he murmurs, pressing another kiss there, his tongue flattening over it just to make you squirm. "You want to know how I figured this out?"

You hum, or try to. But it’s pathetic because you’re barely conscious, every cell fried to uselessness by his mouth.

He mimics you, just to be an ass about it, mocking the dazed little sound like he hasn’t just reduced you to it. "You always reached for it when I looked at you too long."

Your mouth opens. Closes.

"Or," he continues, "when I stood too close to you at the coffee machine. You'd fidget, tuck your hair behind your ear like you weren't thinking about it." His exhale burns against your pulse. "Cute."

You gasp, a little offended, mostly turned on. "Oh, wow. Profiling me? At work? That's, like, wildly unethical."

"Didn't need to," he murmurs. "You were practically begging me to figure you out."

His mouth is perfect in the way lightning is perfect – striking, searing, and completely out of your control. It’s perfect enough that you can pretend not to hear him.

He sucks, slow and hard enough to tear a sound from your lips before you even know it’s there, something that feels like vulnerability in its purest form. Something you would never willingly give him.

His laugh is quiet, wrecking, as he pulls back, lips slick with your skin. "That good?"

His mouth makes quick work, over your collarbone, down, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, down, branding every inch of skin he can reach. 

He stops at the neckline of your dress, and suddenly, you can't think about anything except how it's still on.

You want to strip it off, want to offer yourself up as a willing sacrifice, but you’re well aware that if you try, if you even reach, he’ll stop you. Or worse, he'll make you wait. He'll slow you down, draw it out just to watch you squirm because patience is his weapon of choice, because he lives for making you suffer.

His teeth graze the swell of your breast, just enough to sting, and whatever fragile grip you had on yourself disintegrates on impact. Your hands fumble blindly for his face, fingers shaking, needing to see his eyes.

"Please, Aaron.” It’s an exhale, a prayer. “Need you."

You see the ripple of tension along his throat. And for one tiny, blinding second you think this is when he finally snaps, abandons his tolerance and just takes you.

"You don't know how long I've wanted you like this," he rumbles. "I'm going to take my time."

You whine, frustration bleeding from your fingertips where they clutch his shoulders, fingers digging in like you can physically push him into moving faster.

He does not move faster. 

His hands slide up to the straps of your dress, as he drags it down with all the urgency of a leisurely Sunday stroll. 

Your mind is halfway through an exceptionally justified complaint about how slow he is moving when he folds the dress.

Folds it.

Sets it aside. Doesn't toss it.

And that may be the hottest thing he's ever done.

Because you know he knows. He’s always known. Known that your things aren’t just things — that your dresses, your heels, your overpriced lip glosses aren’t frivolous, aren’t some shallow indulgence, but tiny, curated pieces of you.

He has listened to you decide between two pairs of shoes that are, for all intent and purposes, identical. He knows jasmine is mysterious and vanilla is flirty, knows that you’ll debate your right to own the same three shades of pink. 

And instead of dismissing it, instead of rolling his eyes (though he does that too), he folds your dress. As if it matters.

You stare at him, somewhere between melting and spontaneous combustion, and he simply raises a brow. “Something wrong?”

"No." You shake your head for emphasis, voice a little too weak to get the point across. "Just thinking I might have to marry you."

His hands settle at your waist, fingers tracing over the pink lace like he’s trying to process it, like if he touches it enough times, it’ll confirm that this is actually happening and not some cruel illusion. His thumb brushes the scalloped edge, breathing shallow. You were pretty sure he’s currently having a full-scale existential meltdown over lingerie.

"Agreed," he murmurs, distracted, hooded eyes still glued to your chest. "I think the courthouse opens at eight."

Your giggle stutters, hiccups right out of you, because his hands are suddenly everywhere, roaming with no clear plan, just a man in crisis over how much of you he wants to touch first. His palms skate over your stomach, down your thighs, up over your breasts.

"So, this is all I had to do to convince you to do what I want?"

His mouth follows, retracting the path of his hands, rewriting, reworking, perfecting – because apparently, the first time wasn’t good enough, wasn’t thorough enough. 

"You think this is what did it for me?" His voice is hushed. "You could've walked into my office six months ago and told me to get on one knee.” A kiss, open-mouthed, starving, just below your navel. “I would've done it."

Six months ago. You don't know if you believed that.

Except now you're spiraling, backtracking, rewinding, piecing together little details like some lovesick conspiracy theorist with red string and a bulletin board. Every interaction, every loaded glance, every time he let you get away with high-level flirtation without so much as a blink. You thought you were testing him, but what if he was never fighting at all?

And before you can even recover from that, before you can file an official grievance about why no one told you sooner, his hands squeeze at your thighs, his mouth so close to exactly where you need him, and his voice —

"You're so beautiful."

His nose presses into the damp center of your panties, and your hands fly to his hair so fast it’s practically reflex, breath stalling in your chest like your body forgot how to function for a second. 

This is everything. What you've wanted, dreamed of, written in the margins of notebooks (hypothetically, of course).

It should be perfect, but suddenly, it isn't.

Uncertainty slips between the cracks, heat turning into something less solid. You don’t have time to find it, to name it, because he’s already there, already sensing it, already fixing it before you even know what’s wrong.

"Hey." His voice hooks into you, gently reeling you back from wherever your brain was about to go. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

"No, I—," The words come out far too fast and desperate, and you can't decipher why it's so hard to say. "I do want to. Obviously." The nervous laugh that follows is definitely not your usual flirty confidence. "Have you met yourself? Because if you haven't, I would love to introduce you. Tall, devastatingly handsome — you'd love him."

His move curves, but his eyes stay patient and focused, giving you a second to breathe.

"It's just..." Another pause, another frustrated sigh. "I haven't been with anyone in a while."

"That's okay, we can take it slow." He moves so that he's hovering above you again, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, his smile just amused enough to leave you flustered. "How long?"

"May."

"May?"

"Yeah, like, May. Three years ago."

Aaron just stares at you, processing. You can see the gears turning, the little mental loading wheel spinning, his expression caught between stunned and deeply interested.

His fingers creep up, sliding under your ribs, just close enough to the heavy swell of your tits to remind you exactly where you are. What he was doing to you before you so rudely derailed this into actual conversation.

"Really?"

You pinch his arm. "Hey! That is not an absurd amount of time."

"No. I know. I didn’t say that," he says quickly. "I'm just... surprised."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

His lips part and he immediately shakes his head, exhaling like he's physically trying to dispel what just ran through your mind, knowing exactly where your thoughts were.

"I just mean — I don't know how every man you meet doesn't immediately worship the ground you walk on."

"Oh, well, they do." You smile. "But I was only ever planning on letting one of them take me to bed."

You reach for his dress shirt buttons, tugging insistently, but your hands refuse to cooperate, not properly communicating with your brain.

It's his fault, you decide.

He looks too good, and it was extremely hard to focus on anything but that.

You have no idea how you survived dinner. Or the car ride home. Or even the eternity it took to get past the door, because that was definitely a struggle considering your mouth was all over his, tasting the whiskey he’d barely touched, before he could even get the key in the lock.

You spent all night picturing this, the way his hands would feel in you, the way his mouth would taste, the way his suit would look crumpled on the floor.

Which, in hindsight, probably meant you were a pretty terrible dinner guest. Nodding, smiling, pretending to listen, all while barely holding back the need to ride him in public.

Aaron laughs, clearly entertained by your struggle, and then, because he’s nothing if not arrogant, he starts undoing the buttons one-handed, to be a show-off.

It’s rude, really. Because now all you can do is watch, helpless as he peels himself open to reveal golden skin, dark hair dusting over firm pecs, trailing lower, disappearing beneath his belt. 

Your manicured fingers glide over the broad expanse of his shoulders, pushing his shirt away like uncovering some lost Renaissance painting that scholars would kill to get their hands on — something that should be in a temperature-controlled glass case, not just here, sprawled above you like he belongs to you. Which, he does, because he’s just letting you do this, letting you look. And you look. He is art. No, better than art. Art is stationary, lifeless, some brushstroke interpretation of what beauty should be. But this, him, he is warmth and breath and muscle.

Museums wish they had something this valuable. They’d burn down in despair if they knew he existed just for you.

"May," he muses, letting the word roll off his tongue, turning it over in his mind. "That's an oddly specific answer."

You make a vague sound of agreement, mostly just to acknowledge that yes, technically, he did say words, but you’re too busy to actually care. Too busy with spreading your hands over the planes of his chest, with grabbing at his belt.

"You were hired in May three years ago."

Your hands freeze. 

"That's... um weird." A slow blink. "Weird that you know that. Weirder that you noticed."

You work his belt loose, tugging it free. It’s meant to be a distraction, a well-placed touch to shift his focus from his revelation.

But then your plan backfires spectacularly because he’s hard, thick, unreasonably big and suddenly your fingers feel useless.

Aaron makes a sound — half a hiss, half a laugh — and his hands snap to your wrist, catching you before you can explore further, like he knew you were going to do that. "It’s okay, honey."

"I—I don't—," You blink up at him, floundering, desperately trying to sound casual. "That's, uh, I don't know what that's supposed to mean."

Aaron’s smirk deepens, his grip on you slackening just enough to trick you into thinking he’s going to be nice.

But then his other hand moves, slipping between your bodies, sliding beneath the heat trapped between your thighs, finding the neediest part of you, and pressing.

Your whole body jerks, a startled gasp catching in your throat as sensation flares — hot, sharp, mercilessly good.

His fingers start to move, rubbing tight circles against you. Your hands cling, one locked onto his bare shoulders, the other pressing against his dick, desperate to make him feel even a fraction of what he's doing to you.

It earns you a groan, low and gritty, hips twitching against your palm, his breath is hot against your lips, his mouth hovering just barely out of reach.

"I won't tease," he promises, but the way he bites at your bottom lip feels like a lie. His tongue is quick to follow, flicking over the welt he’s just left, soothing the burn before sealing it with a kiss, just this side of messy. “Three years… that’s a long time.” His lips skim yours again. “For both of us.”

A pleased sound bubbles up from your throat, slipping between his lips, that makes it obnoxiously clear just how much you love those words. That is a sentence you’d like embroidered on a pillow. Maybe cross-stitched into a nice, elegant frame for your future shared bedroom. 

"Oh," you sigh, a smile stretching against his lips. "I really, really, like knowing that. That's, like, incredible news."

Your brows scrunch, and you pull back just an inch. 

"Just to be clear, though, you do mean in a wow, you've ruined me for other women way, and not in a I've been to busy for a sex life way, right? Because those are two different things, and I need to know which one we're working with here—"

Aaron huffs a laugh and instead of answering with words, his hands slip into your panties, fingers finding your clit without prelude. Skin to skin now, no fabric, no flimsy barrier. Just touch.

His fingers dip lower, dragging through the slick, indecent in how easily he moves through the mess of you. He makes a noise — nearly a groan, mostly a hum of appreciation, of possession — before he spreads it, smearing your own arousal over your clit, rolling circles.

"Oh, wow, sweetheart."

Your thighs fall open like you have no say in it — because you don’t, because every instinct in you is reaching for him, needing it like a fix.

And maybe, maybe that should be embarrassing — the obvious, shameless way you seek him out — but it’s a gorgeous kind of humiliation, a flush that spreads lower.

"Well," you gasp, chest rising in stuttering little pants. "Y—you kept me waiting forever."

Aaron hushes you with a soft tsk, his fingers pressing, stroking, coaxing you into sweet, mindless submission. Every movement feels preordained, like he already knows your body, like he’s a man who’s spent years thinking about this.

"I know, sweetheart," he soothes, murmuring it against the fragile skin beneath your ear, punctuating it with a kiss. "But I think I'm making up for lost time pretty well."

"I guess," you manage. "Th—that's acceptable."

Aaron chuckles, the vibration traveling straight into your skin. His lips descend, an idolization thing, but it’s the kind of devotion that sets you on fire.

His hands spread over your thighs, parting them gently.

Your underwear drags down, slipping over your thighs, grazing the curve of your knees, and then off. And suddenly, there's nothing separating you from his eyes, from the way the air licks over you, cool against the sticky heat between your thighs.

His lips part like he wasn't expecting to fall apart so easily. Like he thought he'd have more time, more control. And the power in it, the sheer, intoxicating power of knowing he's just as affected as you are, that this is breaking him open, makes your skin fizz, burn, ache for him even more.

If someone had told you a year ago that Aaron Hotchner, mister all-business-all-the-time, would be between your legs, staring at you like he's never seen anything more perfect, you would have said something nonsensical. Something about fate. Or destiny.

And you would have been right. Because you always knew this was a definite.

"Oh, honey.... You're gorgeous," It's almost a whisper, like the words were dragged out of him against his will, stolen straight from his lungs the second his eyes landed on you. His gaze drinks you in, head tilting, lips parting, tongue skating over the swell of his bottom lip. “I knew you would be, but…”

A sharp, sizzling spark races up your spine, white-hot and unbearable, but when it should tip over into relief, it withers into frustration. The kind that makes your body revolt against the absence of touch. Your hips buck, thighs squeezing as if you can somehow force the friction you’re being deprived of.

"Give me a second, baby," he teases, caressing his nose along the inside of your thigh. "Just wanna look at you."

His mouth moves in decadent passes, open-mouthed kisses pressed into your inner thigh.

Another kiss. Then another. So close.

Then he detours. Veers off, pressing his lips into the dip of your hip instead, dragging his tongue along something that is not your clit.

"So perfect."

His fingers prod through your folds, parting you, fingertips wading through the slickness pooling at your entrance. The sound that spills from him is sinful.

All of your muscles coiling tight, every inch of you scorching with unmet need and just when you think you're going to have to beg him, just when the words start to form —

He gives in. 

His tongue is there first, dragging a flat, broad stripe through your center, licking over every hypersensitive inch of you before looking up at you through hooded eyes. You swear you nearly come from the sight alone.

"Knew you'd be sweet."

Aaron doesn't waste another second, burying himself in you, mouth moving like he's been ravenous for this. 

His grip is firm as he spreads you wider, keeping you at his mercy. His lips wrap around your clit for a split second before he moves again, tasing, licking, humming, lapping up everything you're giving him.

It's messy. Wet. Dripping. His mouth moves as he tries to wreck himself on you. Each second convincing you that he wouldn’t mind suffocating here if it meant another taste.

His nose nudges against you, the angle so cruelly perfect it sends another violent tremor through your body, legs jumping against his shoulders. Your fingers grasp blindly for purchase, gripping the sheets, tangling in his hair, at anything you can reach. 

"That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs into you, words muffled by your pussy. "Let me hear you."

"Oh — " The sound falls from your lips, your eyes squeezing shut like you can block out the overwhelming pleasure if you just try hard enough.  "Oh, that's — "

Your hips stutter, thighs tightening around his face.

Aaron chuckles darkly, and you feel it more than you hear it, the sound pulsing through your core.

You’re not sure you have a body anymore, not sure you exist outside of this moment. You’re just sensation, just trembling atoms held together only by his hands, his breath, his voice. There’s no past or future – just now, just him.

If this is what it means to transcend, to be unraveled and rewritten in the same breath, then let it consume you whole. You could die like this, and it would be the kindest death you could ever ask for.

A single finger ghosts over your entrance, teasing but never quite committing. He dips in, just the barest of intrusion, and you shudder, clenching around nothing because it’s gone just as fast. 

He waits, just long enough to hear the next breathy fussing before finally spearing back in. Your eyes flutter shut, breath breaking apart in little puffs.

The sounds coming from your cunt should embarrass you, sticky, so shockingly loud that if your brain was working, you’d be mortified. But it’s not working. Not even a little. 

His hand flattens over your stomach and suddenly the pressure doubles, triples.

"Tell me, baby," he murmurs, "feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yes, yes, oh my gods, Aaron, I—"

Your normal senses have left the building. Packed its bags, hit the road, abandoned you to whatever dark magic this is. Because this —this isn’t how your body works. This isn’t how guys work. You don’t come from this. 

But here you are, hurtling toward it at full speed and all because he decided you would.

It’s happening too fast, the pressure stacking. Your thighs shake open, stomach clenching so hard it aches. Your mind is lagging behind, still reeling, still trying to rationalize but it doesn’t matter because your body has already made its choice, has already given in, has already decided this is happening, whether you’re ready for it or not.

"Aaron, I think—,"

Aaron just groans, finishing your sentence for you, lapping up your confession with his tongue,

"I know, baby." Hot air blows against your swollen clit. "Let me feel it."

It crashes over you, back bowing off the bed. Your body splinters apart, thighs trembling so hard you couldn’t stop them if you tried. The edges of your vision smear into nothing as the pleasure consumes everything in its path. 

His mouth stays on you, tongue and fingers pushing you through the aftershocks until you’re clawing at the sheets, until that pleasure tilts so far into oversensitivity that makes you unaware if you’re pulling him closer or pushing him away.

Your limbs feel like liquid, consolidating into every inch of your body, melting into the mattress as Aaron moves to be face to face with you.

He's looking at you like he's the only thing keeping you tethered to this planet, and maybe he is, because when his lips get close enough, you tug him the rest of the way down, crashing your mouth into his in a way that's all sloppy desperation.

You can taste yourself on him, can feel the way he groans into it when you sigh against his mouth, all soft and dreamy and drunk on gratification. 

When you pull back, your fingers card through his hair, fixing nothing but feeling everything.

"Oh my gosh," you gasp, dissolving into giggles, toes curling as you flop back against the pillows. "I knew you'd be good at that, obviously, but I wasn't expecting all that. Like wow, you should get a certificate of excellence or something."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you sigh dramatically, "Or like, a trophy, a raise, a sash that says best head giver in gold letters—," You pause for a breath, sucking in air like you just realized how winded you are.

"— and I mean, I've never come like that before. So. You should probably put that on your résumé."

When Aaron presses against you, you feel every inch of him. Thick and unfortunately still restrained. His slacks are a cruel barrier, the rough drag of the fabric catching your clit in a way that rips a whimper straight from your throat.

His teeth scrape along your jaw, then he's mouthing at your neck, sucking, teasing, marking you.

"Firstly," he murmurs. "I hate the idea of anyone else touching you."

An involuntary shiver rolls through you.

"And secondly," he continues, "the fact that they didn't even know how."

Your hands are frantic as they fly to his waistband, fumbling a bit, the last hindrance between you offensive in its existence. 

"Well, yeah," you sigh, looking up at him through fluttering lashes, glossy lips parted just for him. "I mean, you're literally the only one who's ever known what to do with me. That has to mean something, right? Like, cosmic destiny or whatever."

Aaron shoves his pants and briefs off, barely sparing them a second thought, and then he's back, fitted between your thighs.

"You already know the answer to that." His lips brush your temple. "I'm the only one who knows how to handle you. And I plan on proving it."

"Yeah, okay," you say, squirming beneath him. "Not gonna argue when that sounds like the best idea ever."

You've seen a lot of versions of Aaron. You've seen work Aaron, serious and bossy, looking at crime scenes like he can hear the evidence whispering just to him. You've seen grumpy Aaron, glaring over his coffee when you talk too much at morning briefings (but you know he likes it, he just won't say). You've seen soft Aaron, the one who lets you steal his jacket even though you definitely don't need it.

But you've never seen this Aaron. This post-kissing-you Aaron. Lips slick, still damp with you, evidence of where he’s been, what he’s done.

His eyes flick to yours, and there’s no shame, no rush to wipe it away. If anything, he tilts his head, letting you see it from a better angle.

"You're so handsome, Aaron." Your voice trembles. You don't even know if you said it out loud or just thought it so hard he must have heard it anyway.

"And you,” he murmurs, tracing his thumb over your cheek, “are so damn sweet, honey."

You beam at that, overwhelmed, so unbelievably happy that your thoughts are practically spilling out faster than you can catch them.

"Okay so I just need to say — this is so exciting, like, you do realize I've had a crush on you for years, right? And now this is actually happening, and that's just — wow."

You suck in a sharp breath, nails dragging over the thick muscles of his arms, across his shoulders.

"I mean, it's us, Aaron. Can you believe that? Like, I feel like this has been building for so long and now I'm just — gods, you're so hot, this is actually distracting me. I can't even finish my own thought —,"

You laugh, because you already feel so full of him and he isn't even inside you yet.

"And I know you're being all careful and slow because you're sweet and romantic and, like, the most perfect man alive, but also —,"

You grind up, chasing friction, his cock sliding just right over your clit. Your breath stutters, hands fisting at the nape of his neck as you try to remember what you were saying.

" — I'm literally at your mercy right now, so you should probably take advantage of that before I —,"

"You talk so much, baby."

And then he shuts you up. Hard.

His mouth rams into yours, ingesting the comment, the breath, everything.

He doesn't rush. 

The head of his cock nudges at your entrance before he finally, slowly, pushes inside.

It knocks the breath from your lungs. Your mouth parts against his, lips catching on his as a little sigh slips out. Your nails dig into his shoulders, helpless against the way he's opening you up. 

He stills, a sharp, fractured inhale slicing through the air, fingers digging into your hips — hard. He is struggling. You can feel it. The way his cock twitches inside you, like his body is screaming at him to move.

"I-I'm good." Your laugh wobbles, catches at the edges, barely disguising how badly you want him to believe you. "You can keep going."

"You're tensing because it's been a while." You don't mean to, but your body reacts before your brain can tell it not to, stiffening. Stupid, stupid. His exhale is shaky, and his lips press against your cheek. "I know that. I expected that."

You swallow, but it doesn't help.

"I also know that you think if I notice, I'll stop." His forehead rests against yours. "But I need you to hear me, baby. I'm not stopping."

His lips graze yours.

"I'm going to work you through this. Just let me in, princess."

And the second you do, the second you finally give in —

He groans, pushing deeper, stretching you completely, filling you to the hilt. 

"There we go," he breathes, wrecked with praise. His hand presses to your lower belly, feeling how deep he is, how well you take him. "That's my good girl."

Your head tilts back, lips parting, body doing the melty thing that feels really, really nice but also really, really dangerous because you swear you're seconds away from levitating straight out of your own skin.

"Okay, so I did think this would feel good —," Your fingers twitch against his chest, nails raking lightly over sweat-damp skin as another sharp moan tumbles free. "— but, um, wow, this is like — this is so —,"

Your words taper off, get lost somewhere between your psyche and your mouth, because oh. Oh, wow. He's so deep, so heavy inside you, pressing into places you didn't even know existed.

"Go on, baby," he murmurs, a smirk plastered across handsome features as he dips his head. "You were saying?"

"You know," you gasp, words all flimsy and loose, like they've been shaken up inside you, "I kinda always wondered how big you were —"

Your breath hooks halfway through, hiccups on a moan, brain scrambling to keep up with your mouth, your mouth scrambling to keep up with — him.

"Not that I, um — I stared at your pants or anything —" Another sharp inhale, another desperate moan, your walls fluctuating and squeezing around something too thick. "I mean, I try not to because I'm a professional —"

An involuntary clench makes him curse, makes his fingers dip into your hips, makes his head plunge forward hard against your shoulder.

"Honey, shit—,"

Your lashes flutter. "What?"

"Sweetheart, if you keep squeezing me like that while you ramble about my cock, I'm not going to last."

Your mouth clicks shut promptly.

"That's what I thought."

Hotch rocks his hips, just once, a sharp gasp fissuring from your lips like you weren't expecting it. 

"Jesus, sweetheart. You're trembling." He cups your cheek, his thumb skimming over your bottom lip, eyes dark and aflame. "Does it feel that good?"

You nod, and he hums, dragging his cock almost all the way out before pushing back in. 

His hand drags down your waist, spans over your belly, fingers pressing like he's charting the way he fits inside you.

"I used to tell myself I wouldn't do this," he admits. "That I wouldn't touch you. Wouldn't ruin you like this."

Your head lolls back, eyes fluttering, lips parted prettily, gasping as he rocks into you again, and again, and again. You shake your head, or at least, you think you do.

"You don't —" You try to shape words, but they liquefy on your tongue. "Don't ruin me, Aaron, you — oh, you make me —"

Hotch's throat bobs, his pupils blown.

"You make me so, so good, so soft, so perfect."

His hand cups your jaw. "You're already all of those things, sweetheart."

"Not before you," you sigh. "I've been waiting so long, Aaron, so, so long —"

"I know, baby," he groans. "I know."

His hand veers between your bodies, his fingers finding the swollen, neglected bundle of nerves.

“Aaron — oh, wait, wait, wait —,” Your hands shoot up to his shoulders. “I don’t know if I can, I mean, I can, but it’s just —,”

His cock throbs inside you, his rhythm stuttering for half a second before he finds it again, harder this time, his fingers matching the pace.

“Too much?”

“Yes, no, kind of? I don’t know, I can’t—,” You choke on your own breath as another thrust knocks every last rumination from your head. “I can’t think.”

“Good.” His forehead presses against yours, his lips parting against your mouth, panting, his control slipping. “I don’t want you thinking. Just feel me, sweetheart. Feel what I’m doing to you.”

Your body is shaking, shaking so hard that you don’t even know if you’re moving or if he’s just pushing you through it. 

“I know, baby. But you can take it, can’t you?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter, body twitching. 

“That’s my girl,” he praises, groaning as he grinds into you, stretching it. “One more, honey. You can give me one more.”

It hits you slowly, unwinding through your organs like smelted honey.

“Oh, oh —,” Your breath falters, mind going blank, the pleasure overwhelming every nerve in your body until you can’t do anything but let it consume you.

“Christ,” he groans, feeling you clench around him so tight it nearly undoes him.

You barely register the way you’re gasping, twitching, babbling out breathless little moans, vision blurring, and for a second you think you might black out.

“That’s it, princess,” he rasps, fucking you through it the reverberations. “So, so good for me.”

His pace turns shallow, sharp, chasing the tight, perfect squeezing of you still thrashing around him.

“You’re so tight, honey,” he grits, hands bruising your hips, your breath still catching from your own orgasm.

You’re too gone to respond, too wrung out to do anything but whimper as he takes you, using your body to pull himself over the edge.

He groans, low and deep, his fingers tangling in your hair, his mouth ghosting over your cheek as he finally breaks.

A shudder, a muttered curse, his body jerking, hips slamming into yours as he spills inside you.

He doesn’t mean to collapse, you know that, because even as his body gives out, his arms brace, still trying to be careful, even now. You want to cling to him, lock your legs around his waist, but you barely remember how to move, so you just let out a sleepy sound, nuzzling blindly at his throat. 

He murmurs something low, something that sounds like praise, maybe worship.

His lips press to the side of your face, half-gone and still recovering, and then his muscles tense, trying to lift himself off you.

Your arms wind around his neck before he can get too far. 

“Sweetheart,” he rasps, “I’m crushing you.”

“Don’t care,” you mumble, voice a little hoarse. “Feels nice.”

“You did so good.”

When he finally pulls out, you feel the loss and everything that comes with it, his release sticky and warm beneath your thighs. 

Aaron disappears into the bathroom, and you barely have time to miss him before he’s back with a warm cloth in hand.

You giggle, squirming before he even touches you, already restless, and the second he presses the cloth to your inner thighs, you jerk, laughing helplessly.

“Oh, wait —,”

Aaron sighs, one hand pressing against your hip to keep you still. “Sweetheart. You have to let me clean you up”

“But it tickles—,”

He smirks and continues his work. “How do you feel?”

“Like I saw god actually,” you ramble, kicking your feet against the sheets. “Or, like, like, if I had to describe it, I’d say I transcended reality for a little bit —,”

Aaron just chuckles, pressing a kiss to your knee as he finishes cleaning you up. Each swipe reminds you that your legs might not be on speaking terms with you tomorrow.

When he’s done his mouth finds yours again. It’s easy to kiss him. If it were physically possible to stay attached to him, twenty-four hours a day, you’d gladly test the theory.

“Worth the wait,” he breathes into your mouth.

“Well, yeah,” you murmur, smirking up at him. “I figured it would be for you.”

He laughs.

“Yeah, baby, you were good,” he mutters, kissing right over your stuttering pulse. “You were so good.” Another kiss. “So good I’m already thinking about the next time.”

Your heart hasn’t even slowed down, and you’re already thinking about the next time. Already plotting, already ready to drag him back down and see just how quickly that next time could turn into right now. But before you can so much as tug at him — Aaron is rolling out of bed, pulling on his pants, disappearing into the kitchen.

You mean to protest, to demand why he left you alone in a post-bliss haze, but then he’s back, pressing a glass of water into your hand, watching you drink it like it’s his personal responsibility.

Then comes food, something light and something he feeds you between kisses, between lazy murmurs about nothing. 

At some point, the blankets are back over you, his lips pressing against your forehead, his voice saying something about getting some sleep before you got any ideas, before pulling you against him.

You hum, content and drowsy, shifting a little, rolling over to get more comfortable —

And then your eyes land on that photo frame from earlier. You had a clear view of it now.

It was you.

It takes you a second to place it, but once you do, you almost laugh. You know this photo — because Garcia took it. She printed it out months ago, probably as some ridiculous gag, and stuck it to Aaron’s office wall with a bright sticky note that read your favorite obviously. You’d rolled your eyes at the time, called it workplace favoritism, but he’d never taken it down. 

And now, somehow, it’s framed. On his nightstand, like he’s been looking at you every night for —

You don’t finish the thought.

Instead, you just smile, huge and uncontrollable.

He doesn’t say anything.

And you don’t need him to.

Because you already know.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[cloudtransprncy]

Tease

Chaewon x Male Reader | 8k words Tags: manager x idol, secret relationship, pent up, semi-public, sneaking away, horny as fuck, chaewon is hot as fuck, I wish it was me

Chaewon looks too good in that dress. Three weeks without sex. How long before you snap?

Jus sumn quick for yall.

Chaewon [1:42 AM]: I've been touching myself thinking about you every night this week. It's not enough.

Chaewon [1:43 AM]: Good luck keeping it professional tomorrow when you see what they have me wearing for the HOT trailer shoot 😈

You stare at your phone, heat flooding through your body. Three weeks without her. The longest you've gone since you started dating a year ago.

Fuck, she knows exactly what she's doing to you.

Three weeks without her touch has made every message like this a form of exquisite torture. You can practically hear her voice in your head as you read her texts.

You're dating Kim Chaewon. LE SSERAFIM's leader. And you're one of their managers.

It started on a company retreat last spring—a late-night conversation about music that turned into coffee, then dinner a week later, then her pressed against your apartment door, whispering that she'd wanted this since the moment you'd been assigned to their team.

You'd both agreed it would be just once.

That agreement lasted approximately 8 hours.

No one knows. Not the company. Not the members.

Not even Jiyeon, the other manager who works with you handling the girls' schedules.

And right now, your girlfriend is driving you fucking crazy.

The comeback prep for "HOT" has been exactly that—hot, intense, and keeping you both so busy you can barely catch your breath, let alone sneak away to be alone together.

You've tried everything to deal with the frustration. Late-night FaceTiming while she touches herself in her dorm room, biting her pillow to stay quiet. Watching the videos you've made together—her riding you on your couch, her bent over your bathroom sink, her on her knees looking up at you with those eyes.

None of it is enough. You need her. You need to taste her, feel her skin against yours, be inside her.

The warehouse set is all sleek white surfaces and ribbed glass partitions. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in cold natural light that makes everything look clean, sterile, and expensive. The perfect contrast to the fire they're trying to create with this concept.

Staff members in black hurry around with clipboards and equipment, speaking in hushed, urgent tones. This "BORN FIRE" trailer shoot has to be perfect—it's launching LE SSERAFIM's most ambitious album "HOT" yet.

You check your own clipboard, making sure everything's on schedule while trying not to think about Chaewon and whatever outfit has her texting you at 2 AM.

The irony isn't lost on you. Here you are, supervising the filming of a teaser—literally called "BORN FIRE"—while Chaewon herself is the true teaser. She's igniting something in you that's becoming increasingly difficult to contain. The line between her performance for the video and her performance for you is blurring dangerously.

"Manager-oppa, the director wants to run through the toy car scene again," Eunchae says, bouncing up to you in her feathered white outfit. "Have you seen Chaewon unnie? She's next."

"Still in wardrobe," you answer, keeping your voice steady. Like you're not thinking about how Chaewon moaned your name in that hotel in Jeju last month, her body shaking beneath yours as she came for the third time that night.

Sakura walks past with her stylist, the long white dress trailing behind her. You spot Kazuha already positioned on one of the white block structures that fill the set. The whole group is scattered around the space in various stages of preparation.

"Jiyeon-ssi," you call to your fellow manager, "can you check if hair and makeup are done with Chaewon?"

Jiyeon nods and heads toward the dressing area. You turn your attention back to the monitor, where the director is reviewing footage.

Then it happens.

The quiet murmur of the set shifts. You feel it before you see it.

Chaewon walks onto set, and your entire body goes rigid.

Your throat goes dry instantly. God, you love her in white—the way it makes her skin glow, how it emphasizes every curve you've memorized with your hands, your mouth. You force yourself to breathe normally even as memories flood your mind unbidden. She knows what this does to you. She's counting on it.

The white strapless dress is even shorter than it looked in the concept sketches and fittings you'd seen last week. It hugs her body perfectly, showing off shoulders you've kissed a hundred times.

The black belt cinches her waist—the waist you've held in your hands while she rode you until you both saw stars. But it's the boots that kill you. Thigh-high, black, lace-up boots that make her legs look endless.

You force yourself to look away, back at your clipboard. Professional. You're a professional.

But memories flood your mind anyway:

Chaewon straddling you in the backseat of your car, hand pressed against your mouth to keep you quiet while security guards walked past.

Chaewon pressed against your kitchen counter, panties around one ankle, begging you not to stop as you dropped to your knees.

Chaewon in your bed, hair spread across your pillow, eyes locked with yours as you moved inside her, whispering that she loves you.

You still remember the first time she said those words—three months in, both of you sweaty and breathless, her eyes wide with something like surprise at her own admission. You'd felt it too, that terrifying, exhilarating free-fall into something neither of you had planned for.

"You good?" asks one of the camera assistants, noticing how you've been staring at nothing.

"Fine," you say, the word clipped.

On set, Chaewon takes her position. In one scene, she stands tall on a miniature white car, the contrast of the boots against the white making her look like some kind of goddess. In another setup, she holds a diagram against her bare shoulder, eyes focused directly at the camera.

She's perfect. Professional. The director loves every take.

But then, during a lighting adjustment, when everyone's attention is elsewhere, she looks directly at you.

It's quick—barely a second—but in that moment, her professional mask slips. Her eyes darken. The corner of her mouth quirks up.

It's the same look she gave you the first time you told her to get on her knees.

The director calls for the next setup. Chaewon moves into position with the other members, all of them in white, creating a visual that's both innocent and somehow sinful.

You take a deep breath. You've been so good. So professional.

But when she walks past  you, she whispers, "Bet you want to take this off me so bad," so quietly only you can hear it, you know exactly how this day is going to end.

You are completely, totally fucked.

You're in hell.

Not the burning, fire-and-brimstone kind. The sleek, white, glass-walled kind.

A special kind of hell designed with surgical precision by Kim Chaewon—your weakness, your fucking undoing.

The "BORN FIRE" shoot continues. It's been three hours. You've managed to stay professional for exactly none of them.

"Cut! Five minute break," the director calls.

The set erupts into controlled chaos—stylists rushing to touch up makeup, lighting techs adjusting gear, Kazuha and Eunchae huddled near the white blocks watching practice videos on their phones.

You stare at your clipboard like it contains the secrets of the universe.

Chaewon moves through the space like she owns it, boots clicking against the polished concrete floor. The sound alone makes your pulse kick.

She stands by the glass partition, sunlight catching on her hair, making it glow against all the sterile white. Your eyes follow her despite your brain screaming not to.

"Manager-oppa," she calls, voice sweet and professional. The sound hits you low in your stomach—the same tone she uses right before she begs you to fuck her harder.

"Can you bring me some water?"

She knows exactly what she's doing. Every staff member sees a hardworking idol asking her manager for a simple favor.

You know better.

You grab a bottle and walk it over to her. That's when she strikes.

Her fingers brush yours as she takes the bottle—deliberate, electric—the touch lasting a half-second too long to be accidental.

"Had a dream about you last night," she murmurs, voice pitched for your ears only.

The cap of the water bottle clicks as she twists it open. She drinks slowly, throat working in a way that triggers a vivid flashback—her on her knees three weeks ago, swallowing around you, looking up with those same dark eyes. You'd gripped her hair so tight she'd moaned around you.

Her tongue darts out to catch a drop on her lower lip. Her eyes never leave yours.

You say nothing. Your grip on the clipboard turns your knuckles white.

Jiyeon passes by, checking her watch. "Chaewon-ah, wardrobe wants to check your outfit before the next shot."

Chaewon nods, all professional sweetness. "Coming!"

She brushes past you, close enough that you catch her scent—something floral and expensive that you've tasted on her skin a hundred times before.

The stylist adjusts something on the back of her dress while she stands in front of the monitor. You try to focus on the schedule, on anything but the curve of her shoulder blades, the way the belt cinches her waist.

"Everything good?" the stylist asks.

Chaewon nods, then turns slightly. Her eyes find yours in the reflection of the monitor. "Perfect."

The tech walks away. You're about to do the same when—

"Woke up so wet this morning."

The words hit you like a physical blow. Your body responds instantly, a rush of heat that makes you grit your teeth.

She doesn't even look at you. Just keeps checking her reflection, adjusting a strand of hair like she didn't just set you on fire.

You step closer, voice low. "Watch yourself."

She smiles—sweet, sharp, fucking dangerous. "Always do. That's why I look so good."

The director calls everyone back. You retreat to the safety of the production table.

You adjust your clipboard, grateful for its coverage. This is what she reduces you to—a professional with years of industry experience hiding an erection like a teenager. The thought should embarrass you, but instead, there's a twisted pride in how she still affects you this way, even after a year together.

For exactly twelve minutes, you breathe. Focus. Reset.

Then she slides into the chair next to you.

"Can I see the schedule?" she asks, loud enough for others to hear. Professional. Proper.

You hand her your tablet without looking up. Three staff members hover nearby, discussing lighting for the next scene.

Sakura sits across the table, focused on crocheting something delicate and blue, her fingers moving with practiced precision. The click of her crochet hook provides a steady rhythm to the chaos around you.

That's when you feel it—her hand on your thigh under the table. Casual. Like it belongs there.

Your entire body goes rigid.

"Chaewon," you warn, barely a whisper.

"Mmm?" She leans in, pretending to point at something on the screen. Her fingers start to move. Slow strokes up, then down. Teasing.

You inhale sharply, willing your face to stay neutral.

The staff members move away. But Sakura is still there, focused on her project, the hook moving in and out of the yarn.

Chaewon's hand inches higher, bolder than she's ever been. Her pinky grazes dangerously close to where you're already hardening against your will.

"Stop," you hiss.

She leans closer, her breath against your ear. "I'm ovulating, you know."

Your vision blurs. Blood rushes in your ears.

"You'd feel it the moment you were inside me—"

Sakura looks up suddenly, her eyes meeting yours across the table.

Your heart stops.

Chaewon doesn't move her hand. Instead, she laughs at something on the screen, all innocent charm. "Manager-oppa, the schedule looks too tight. Don't you think?"

Sakura tilts her head, then returns to her crocheting, seemingly oblivious to the fact that your girlfriend's hand is still on your thigh, still dangerously high.

You wrap your fingers around her wrist under the table, stopping her hand but not removing it. A dangerous compromise.

Her pupils dilate. That's when you see it—she's not just playing with you. She's affected too. Her cheeks flushed, her breathing just a little too quick.

She's as desperate as you are.

The realization hits you like a kick to the chest.

"Two minutes!" someone calls.

She extracts her hand slowly, deliberately. Stands up, smooths down her dress. The movement pulls the hem even higher on her thigh.

"Think you can last the rest of the day?" she asks, a challenge glinting in her eyes.

Before you can answer, Jiyeon approaches. "Chaewon-ah, they need you for the car shot."

Chaewon nods, all business again. But as she walks away, she glances back—just once. Just enough for you to see the hunger there, mirroring your own.

The next hour is psychological warfare.

Around you, the set buzzes with activity. Makeup artists touch up the members between shots. The director argues with the cinematographer about lighting. A production assistant nearly trips over a cable, sending everyone scrambling.

And through it all, Chaewon wages her private campaign against your sanity.

This is high-stakes chess played under fluorescent lights.

Every staff member represents a potential career-ending leak. The director who's worked with three generations of idol groups and has seen every possible scandal. The company photographer who reports directly to the CEO. The stylists who know every whispered secret in the industry.

One wrong move, one lingering glance held too long, and everything you've both worked for collapses.

She steps onto the miniature white car, boots planted wide, the dress riding up her thighs as she poses. The camera loves her. Every angle is perfection.

You remember the first time you took her for a drive, six months into your secret relationship. She'd climbed into your lap at a deserted scenic point, the gear shift digging into her leg as she rode you, both of you half-clothed, desperate, her breath fogging the windows as she came.

Now, as she stands on that toy car, her eyes find yours between every take.

During the group shot with the white blocks, she trails her fingers along the edge of the structure, the same way she's traced paths across your chest in the dark of your bedroom. Her fingernails scrape lightly against the white surface, and you swear you can feel phantom scratches down your back.

Each pose becomes more provocative. Each glance more daring.

When the stylist adjusts her dress between shots, Chaewon stretches her arms overhead, making the hem ride dangerously high. The movement fills your nostrils with the scent of her perfume—jasmine and something deeper—that clings to your sheets for days after she leaves.

In the solo shot with the diagram pressed against her bare shoulder, she turns just enough that only you can see how her teeth catch her bottom lip—the same way they do when you're deep inside her.

Your heart hammers against your ribs. Your skin feels too tight. Every minute is torture, and the fact that you're surrounded by people—Jiyeon checking the time, Eunchae asking you questions, staff members constantly brushing past—only makes it worse.

This isn't just teasing anymore. This is Chaewon pushing both of you to the edge.

Then comes the final blow.

During the last break, when the set is buzzing with activity, she passes by the narrow space between the equipment cases where you're checking inventory.

No one can see you here. Just a sliver of space hidden from the main floor.

She stops, just for a second. Leans in.

"Just fuck me in the changing room already."

The clipboard nearly snaps in your grip.

She walks away, satisfied smirk playing on her lips.

And something in you—the last thread of your control—finally snaps.

You count to ten. Wait until she's back in position on set.

Then you move through the space with purpose, face composed, steps measured.

Professional.

You reach her just as the director calls for a lighting check.

Your fingers wrap around her wrist—firm, decisive.

She looks up, triumph flashing in her eyes.

"Do you wanna get caught, you stupid bitch?" you whisper, the words harsh but your tone almost loving.

Her lips part. A small gasp that only you can hear.

"Manager-nim, is something wrong?" the director asks.

"Wardrobe issue," you say smoothly. "Won't take long."

You pull her away from the set, past curious eyes, past Jiyeon's raised eyebrow.

The changing room is too exposed. Too many people.

Five years in this industry has taught you one thing: discretion isn't just preferred, it's survival.

You've built your reputation on professionalism, on being the manager who anticipates problems before they happen.

Chaewon is the one variable you can never fully calculate, the one risk you can't mitigate. And God help you, you wouldn't have it any other way.

You spot it—a storage room door, slightly ajar. Dark. Empty.

Perfect.

Her breath catches as you change direction, leading her toward it.

"What are you—"

You push the door open. Pull her inside  The storage room door closes with a soft click.

And finally—fucking finally—you're alone.

One second passes.

Two.

Then Chaewon launches herself at you.

Her hands grab your face with bruising intensity, fingernails digging into your scalp, your jaw, anywhere she can grip. The heat of her palms sears your skin as her mouth finds yours with desperate precision. The kiss is nuclear—all teeth and tongue and hunger. She bites your lower lip, hard enough to make you taste the metallic hint of blood, then soothes it with the velvety warmth of her tongue, exploring your mouth like she's trying to devour you whole.

Her body presses against yours, tits crushed against your chest, her hips grinding with shameless need. She grabs your hands and places them on her ass, demanding your touch without saying a word.

"Fuck, I missed your mouth," she gasps, her breath hot against your lips as she pulls at your clothes, fingers trembling and scrabbling at your belt, nails occasionally scraping against your abdomen. She can't seem to decide where to touch you—her hands moving from your chest to your shoulders to your neck, back to your belt, frantic and greedy. "Missed your hands. Missed your cock."

You slam her against the shelves, the metal rattling with a satisfying clang that echoes her gasp. Your hands are everywhere—her face, flushed and warm beneath your palms; her throat, pulse hammering wildly under your fingertips; the soft swell of her breasts rising and falling with each ragged breath; the dramatic curve of her waist that fits perfectly in your grip. Every touch relearns the terrain you've been starved of for three endless weeks.

She reaches behind and grabs your wrists, dragging your hands to her ass, forcing you to squeeze the firm flesh. "Touch me everywhere," she demands, voice thick with need. "I've been dying for it."

"You took too fucking long," she pants against your lips, her voice vibrating through you as her hands finally get your pants open, the sudden coolness of air a sharp contrast to the heat of her touch. Her fingers brush against your cock, a teasing touch that makes your jaw clench.

The storage room closes around you—metal shelves on one wall digging into her back, garment racks crowded with costumes exhaling the scent of fabric softener and makeup, cardboard boxes stacked in the corner threatening to topple with each movement. A single fluorescent light buzzes overhead, casting harsh shadows that carve her features into something almost feral with need, highlighting the sheen of sweat beginning to form at her temples, at the hollow of her throat.

She makes quick work of the black safety shorts beneath her dress, the fabric making a soft whisper as it slides down her legs before she kicks them away. The movement is so fluid, so urgent, that your mouth goes dry with anticipation. She grabs your hand, guiding it between her legs, letting you feel how ready she is. "See what you do to me?" she whispers, eyes locked on yours.

You spin her around, the quick motion making her gasp. For a moment, you just look at her—the elegant column of her neck where a few baby hairs escape her bob cut, curling with perspiration; the delicate slope of her shoulders, pale and perfect under the harsh light; the dramatic curve where her waist meets the swell of her ass, emphasized by the black belt that begs to be gripped. The white dress clings to every inch, revealing the heat she's generating beneath it. Your mouth waters just looking at her, tongue dragging across suddenly parched lips.

Your hand comes down on her ass with a sharp crack, the sound startlingly loud in the confined space. She jerks forward, a surprised gasp escaping her lips. The pale skin instantly flushes pink under your palm.

"Hurry up," she demands, looking back at you over her shoulder, eyes dark and glassy with impatience, pupils blown wide until only a thin ring of brown remains. She arches her back, pushing her ass against your hand, silently begging for more.

You grip her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave impressions. "Shut the fuck up."

Her breath catches with an audible hitch. You know she loves it when you talk to her like this—can feel it in the goosebumps that rise under your touch, in the way her thighs tremble slightly.

You run your hands up her sides, feeling the heat radiating through the thin fabric, then down to the hem of her dress, bunching the material as you start to lift it. The fabric makes a soft rustling sound that seems obscenely loud in the small space. Your hands slide up her thighs, skin like silk beneath your calloused palms, finding the lace edge of her panties. Black, of course. The contrast against her pale skin is stark and mouthwatering.

Another smack lands on her ass, harder this time. You watch the flesh jiggle under the impact, the imprint of your hand blooming pink against her porcelain skin. "You like that?" you ask, already knowing the answer as she pushes back against you.

"Yes," she hisses, grinding back against your hand. "Again. Harder."

You comply, landing another sharp slap, watching the way her body jerks forward before pressing back, seeking more. "Look at you," you murmur, "So perfect for the cameras, but in here, you're just a dirty little slut who gets wet from being spanked."

She moans at your words, the sound vibrating through her entire body. "Only for you," she whispers, the admission hanging heavy in the air between you.

Spinning her back around, you claim her mouth again, tasting mint and desperation on her tongue as your hand slips between her legs, pressing the lace against her. The fabric is soaked through, warm and clinging to her folds. Her hands are everywhere—gripping your shoulders, sliding down your chest, grabbing at your ass to pull you closer, like she can't get enough of touching you.

"Goddamn," you mutter against her lips, the words a vibration between your connected mouths. "Your pussy's fucking drenched."

You hook your fingers into the lace and yank it aside, the elastic snapping against her thigh. Your middle finger slides through her folds, gathering her wetness, feeling how swollen and ready she is—hot and slick and perfect against your fingertips.

"Look how fucking wet you are," you murmur, watching her face contort with pleasure as you circle her clit, feeling it harden beneath your touch. "Been thinking about this all day, haven't you?"

She whimpers, a high, needy sound that goes straight to your cock as she grinds against your hand. "I told you I've been wet since I woke up," she pants, her breath coming in short, hot puffs against your face. "Thinking about you. About this. About you bending me over and fucking me until I can't remember my own name."

She tries to reach for you, but you catch her wrist with your free hand, her pulse jumping beneath your grip as you pin it above her head against the shelves. The metal is cold against her skin, making her hiss.

"Not yet," you tell her, voice dropping to a growl. "I want you desperate first."

"I'm already desperate," she hisses, trying to rock against your hand, the movement making her belt buckle clink against itself. Her free hand grabs at your shirt, your arm, anywhere she can reach. "Just fuck me already."

You turn her again, pressing her face-first against the metal shelving. The cold surface makes her gasp, back arching instinctively away from it. She braces herself, legs automatically spreading wider on the concrete floor, the heel of her boots making a sharp click as she repositions.

You grab her belt from behind, leather warm from her body heat, using it to arch her back, positioning her ass higher. The positioning makes the dress ride up further, exposing more of her thighs, making her stance more obscene, more perfect.

Another smack lands on her exposed ass, harder than before, the sound cracking through the small room. She jerks forward, a moan ripping from her throat.

"Fucking perfect," you mutter, kneading the flesh you just struck, watching the pink handprint fade and bloom again under your touch. You land another blow on the opposite cheek, evening her out, making her squirm.

The scent of her arousal hits you fully now—musky, sweet, unmistakable. Your mouth waters at the smell of her, cock throbbing painfully in response.

You reach up, fingers finding her hair, gripping the short strands of her bob at the nape of her neck. Not pulling, just holding, controlling. The sensation makes her moan, her head falling back into your grip.

"Please," she whispers, the word a broken, ragged thing as she tries to push back against you.

You keep her in place with your dual grip on her belt and hair. "Please what?"

"Please fuck me," she begs, all teasing gone from her voice, replaced with raw need. "I need your cock inside me. Now."

You release her hair to lean over her, your chest pressing against her back, trapping her heat between your bodies. Your mouth finds her ear, teeth grazing the sensitive lobe. "After all that teasing? All those filthy little comments with people right fucking there?"

You land another hard slap on her ass, watching the flesh redden under your palm. "This what you wanted? Getting your ass slapped while the whole crew is just outside?"

"Yes," she admits, voice small but sure. "Needed it so bad."

You drag the head of your cock through her slick folds, the sensation making both of you groan—her wetness hot and silky against you, making everything gloriously frictionless. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't make you wait longer."

"Because," she pants, voice vibrating with need, "you want this as bad as I do."

She's right, and you both know it.

You guide yourself to her entrance and thrust in with one brutal stroke, burying yourself to the hilt in her tight, clinging heat.

The sound she makes is primal—half gasp, half moan, pure fucking need. Your hand clamps over her mouth immediately, palm registering the warm wetness of her breath, the softness of her lips.

"Shhh," you warn even as you pull back and drive in again, the slick sound of your joining obscenely loud in the small space. "You want the whole fucking staff to hear how you take cock? How their perfect Kim Chaewon is just a dirty little whore in here?"

She shakes her head, but her pussy clenches around you at the words, a vice-like grip that sends stars exploding behind your eyelids. You know she loves the risk, the filth, the knowledge that just outside this door, she's Kim Chaewon of LE SSERAFIM, but in here, she's just yours to use.

"That's what gets you off, isn't it?" you growl against her ear, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. "Knowing they all think you're so sweet, so professional, when really you're in here letting me fuck you raw in a storage room."

Moving your hand from her mouth to her throat, you feel her swallow against your palm, her pulse racing beneath your fingers. You don't squeeze, just hold, feeling the vibrations of her moans traveling through her slender neck.

"That's right," you growl against her ear, teeth scraping the shell. "Remember who you belong to."

Her response is a full-body shudder, her inner walls clenching around you, making you groan at the sensation.

You fuck her hard, each thrust making her body jolt against the shelves. The metal creaks ominously, the sound mixing with the wet slap of skin on skin, the harsh sounds of your combined breathing. Your hand comes down on her ass again, the sting making her gasp, her pussy clenching around you in response.

"You love that, don't you?" you murmur, watching the red handprint bloom on her pale skin. "Love getting your ass slapped while your tight little pussy gets stretched around my cock."

"Yes," she admits, voice breaking around the word. "Love it. Love everything you do to me."

Without pulling out, you grab her left thigh and lift it, the smooth leather of her boot sliding against your palm as you plant her foot against a lower shelf. The new position opens her up, lets you sink even deeper into her molten core.

"Fuck," she whimpers, head falling forward against her braced arm, the tendons in her neck standing out in sharp relief.

"That's it," you growl, watching yourself disappear inside her over and over, mesmerized by the sight of her taking you, by the glistening evidence of her arousal coating you. "Take it deeper."

You grip her belt with one hand, bunching her dress even higher with the other until it's completely out of the way. The sight of her perfect ass jiggling with each impact makes your head swim, blood rushing in your ears. It's already pink from your earlier attention, the skin warm to the touch.

Your hand slides up her spine to grip her hair again, this time with purpose. You gather the short strands in your fist, tugging just enough to make her back arch further, to make her gasp, throat exposed and vulnerable.

"Look at you," you say, voice rough with exertion, the words punched out of you with each thrust. "LE SSERAFIM's perfect leader, taking cock in a storage room, being such a whore. Such a pretty little slut with your ass all red from my hands, your pussy dripping all over my cock."

She pushes back against you, taking you deeper, her body greedily swallowing every inch. "Harder," she demands, voice breaking on the word. "Fuck me harder. Make me feel it tomorrow."

You grip both her hips now, fingers digging into soft flesh, and pick up the pace. The new angle has you hitting that spot inside her that makes her whole body tremble, makes her walls flutter and clench around you. The wet sounds of her pussy taking your cock fill the small space—obscene, filthy, perfect.

"You're so fucking tight," you groan, feeling her walls grip you like a silken vice. "Squeezing my cock like you're trying to milk it dry."

You switch your grip, one hand finding her throat again, feeling her swallow against your palm as you apply the gentlest pressure. Just enough to remind her who's in control, to make her breath catch. Your other hand comes down hard on her ass again, the smack loud enough to make you both freeze for a second, worried it might have been heard outside.

"You've been a fucking menace all day," you growl, your pace relentless, the sound of your bodies coming together a wet percussion. "Strutting around in this dress, whispering that shit in my ear, touching me under the table."

Your grip on her throat tightens fractionally, making her pulse jump against your fingers. Her only response is to push back harder, taking you deeper, her body yielding and demanding all at once.

"You'd let me do anything to you, wouldn't you?" you ask, voice low and rough in her ear. "Slap your ass, pull your hair, fuck you where anyone could walk in and see you—see what a desperate little whore you really are."

"Yes," she admits, the confession barely audible. "Anything. Everything."

The tension builds between you, a tangible thing in the small, overheated room. The air is thick with the scent of sex, with the sounds of pleasure barely contained, with the electric certainty that this is exactly where you both need to be.

You change the angle again, leaning over her back to reach around to her front. The new position grinds your pelvis against her ass with each thrust, your cock hitting new spots inside her. Your fingers find her clit, circling it in tight, firm motions, feeling it swell and harden under your touch.

"Oh fuck," she gasps, her inner walls fluttering around you like wings. "Right there, don't stop."

You don't stop. You keep up the relentless pace, feeling her get wetter around you with each stroke, her arousal making everything slick and hot and perfect. Your fingers on her clit get slicker, the combination of her arousal and your spit making obscene wet sounds that mix with the slap of skin on skin.

"That's right, take it just like that," you encourage, voice strained. "Take it like the cock-hungry little slut you are."

Instead of being offended, she moans louder, her body responding to your words as much as to your touch. You know exactly what she likes to hear, exactly how far to push the fantasy of degradation that excites her so much.

The pleasure is so intense you have to grit your teeth to keep from coming too soon. Three weeks without this—without her tight heat squeezing you, without her desperate little sounds, without the feeling of being buried inside her—has left you balanced on a knife's edge of control.

"You close?" you ask, voice strained, the words feeling like they're being ripped from your chest.

"Yes," she pants, the word almost a sob. "So close."

You reach up with your free hand, tangling your fingers in her hair again, carefully pulling her head back to expose the elegant line of her neck, watching the muscles work beneath the skin as she swallows. You bend to press open-mouthed kisses along her shoulder, right where the dress leaves her skin bare, tasting salt and sweetness.

"Think about this tomorrow," you murmur against her skin, lips dragging over the goosebumps your breath creates. "When you're sitting in meetings, when you're in practice, when you're smiling for the cameras—remember how fucked you look right now. Remember how your ass felt getting spanked while my cock was inside you. Remember what a perfect little whore you are for me."

Her breath catches. Her pussy clenches around you. She's right on the edge, her body wound tight as a bowstring.

"Remember you're fucking mine," you growl, punctuating the words with a particularly deep thrust that makes her cry out before she can stop herself, the sound sharp and startling in the quiet room.

You cover her mouth again, palm feeling the heat of her breath, the wetness of her lips, but it's too late—the sound echoed in the small room. Both of you freeze, hearts pounding, listening for any reaction from outside.

Nothing. Just the continued sounds of the busy set.

The moment of fear transforms quickly back into desperate need. Your thrusts become harder, deeper, more deliberate. Her body responds with renewed hunger, pushing back to meet you stroke for stroke, the rhythm between you perfect and instinctive.

Your hand slips from her mouth to her throat, not squeezing, just feeling her pulse race under your palm, feeling the vibrations of her moans travel through your fingertips.

"You gonna come for me?" you ask, feeling your own orgasm building at the base of your spine, heat coiling tight and insistent. "Gonna come all over my cock like the needy little slut you are?"

She nods frantically, beyond words now. Her body tightens around you, clenching with each thrust, the pressure building visibly in the arch of her back, the tension in her thighs, the way her fingers curl against the metal shelf.

You can feel your own release building, the tight grip of her pussy dragging you toward the edge. You've been thinking about this for weeks—dreaming about it, jerking off to memories of it—and now you're finally here, buried inside her, both of you desperate and filthy and perfect.

Her breath hitches. Her pussy flutters around your cock. You know the signs—she's right there, teetering on the precipice.

One more hard slap on her ass, the sting making her gasp, her inner walls clenching around you in response.

You lower her leg from the shelf, repositioning her with both feet on the ground, but spread wide. You grip her belt again with one hand, keeping up the pressure on her clit with the other. The new angle has you grinding against that spot inside her that makes her go crazy, makes her whole body tremble.

"Come on," you urge, your own control slipping, voice rough and broken. "Come on my cock, Chaewon. Let me feel it. Let me feel what a fucking whore you are for me."

Her body responds instantly, like your words were the final trigger she needed. She buries her face against her arm to muffle the sound as her orgasm rips through her, her pussy clamping down on you in rhythmic pulses, a flood of warmth surrounding you. Her legs shake so hard you have to hold her up with the grip on her belt, feeling the tremors travel through her entire body.

The sight of her completely wrecked, the feel of her convulsing around you, the knowledge that you did this to her—it all sends you over the edge. You thrust deep one last time, grinding against her ass as you come, filling her up with pulse after pulse, the pleasure so intense it's almost pain, radiating from your core to the tips of your fingers, the backs of your knees, the top of your skull.

"Fuck, Chaewon, fuck," you chant, forehead pressed between her shoulder blades as you empty yourself inside her, feeling the way she milks every drop from you, her body greedy even in its exhaustion.

For a long moment, neither of you moves. Just the sound of ragged breathing, your heartbeats gradually slowing from their frantic pace, the distant muffled voices of the set filtering back into your awareness.

You're still inside her, softening but reluctant to break the connection. Her body occasionally trembles with aftershocks, her pussy giving your cock little squeezes that make you hiss with oversensitivity, the sensation bordering on too much.

You run your hand gently over her ass, soothing the skin you'd been striking moments ago. It's still warm to the touch, a faint pink that will fade before she has to be back on set. Your touch is gentle now, a stark contrast to the roughness from before.

"You okay?" you murmur against her ear, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her neck.

"Better than okay," she whispers back, voice wrecked but satisfied.

Eventually, you pull out slowly, both of you groaning at the sensation. You watch as a trickle of your come leaks from her, sliding down her inner thigh. The sight sends a possessive thrill through you, primal and satisfying.

She straightens, turning to face you. Her makeup is smeared, her lips swollen and red, her cheeks flushed. Her eyes have that dazed, satisfied look that only comes after she's been thoroughly fucked. A thin sheen of sweat makes her skin glow under the fluorescent light. Her short hair is disheveled where you'd gripped it, sticking up in places that you smooth down with gentle fingers.

You grab tissues from a box on the shelf, gently cleaning between her legs. She watches you, a soft smile playing on her lips—so different from the smirk she's been tormenting you with all day.

"Did I hurt you?" you ask, suddenly aware of how rough you were, eyes searching for marks on her throat, her wrists, her hips, ghosting your fingers over her ass where you'd struck her.

She shakes her head, running her fingers through your hair, nails scraping lightly against your scalp in a way that makes you shiver. "Babe, It was perfect."

You retrieve her safety shorts from the floor and help her back into them, then smooth down her dress. Your hands linger on her waist, not quite ready to let go, feeling the warmth of her through the fabric.

A smirk forms slowly on her face, eyes glittering with mischief as she leans in close, her breath warm against your ear. "Think they heard?"

You press a final kiss to her shoulder, lingering there, inhaling deeply—tasting salt and perfume and her, that essence that's uniquely Chaewon beneath the expensive fragrance. Your lips trace a path to the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, feeling her pulse still racing beneath your mouth.

"Not if you keep your mouth shut next time," you murmur against her skin, unable to resist giving her one more gentle bite.

She hums, the sound vibrating against your lips. "But where's the fun in that?" she whispers, that familiar playful defiance in her voice.

As she attempts to take a step back, her legs buckle. She grabs your shoulders to steady herself, her usual composure completely absent, the bratty confidence from seconds ago vanishing.

"I can't move," she whispers, voice wrecked, blinking up at you with unfocused eyes. All the sharp edges of her personality momentarily dissolved, leaving her soft and vulnerable in a way no one else ever sees. "My legs won't work."

"Good," you murmur, unable to hide your satisfaction as you press a kiss to her forehead, supporting her weight. You hold her close for a moment, feeling the way she melts against you, completely undone.

After a moment, that familiar glint of mischief gradually returns to her eyes. The transformation is beginning; the desperate, wrecked woman slowly rebuilding herself into the polished idol.

In this moment, with her guard completely down, she looks younger, softer. The harsh fluorescent lighting should be unflattering, but somehow it just makes her look more real—smudged eyeshadow, faint red marks on her throat where your fingers were, her hair disheveled despite her attempts to smooth it. For a few seconds more, she's just yours.

She reaches up, her hand cupping your cheek with surprising tenderness. Her eyes, usually sharp and mischievous, soften as she looks at you. She leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips—so different from the desperate ones you shared minutes ago. This one is deliberate, unhurried.

"I love you," she whispers against your mouth, the words barely audible but unmistakable. It's not something she says often—both of you knowing how dangerous those words can be in your situation.

Your hand comes up to cover hers where it rests against your face, holding her there for a moment. "I love you too," you reply quietly, the words filling the small space between you. "Even when you're being a menace."

Her eyes crinkle at the corners. "Especially when I'm being a menace," she corrects, and you can't help but smile.

You glare at her playfully, and she giggles—the sound at complete odds with what just happened, with the filthy things you both just did, with the woman who was begging for your cock and calling herself your whore minutes ago. The contrast is jarring and perfect; this duality of hers that only you get to witness.

She leans in and kisses you deeply, but without the desperate edge from before. This kiss is softer, a promise.

When she pulls back, you can see the clock ticking in her head. Reality intruding.

"You go first," you say, checking your watch. "They'll be looking for you. The shoot needs to wrap in twenty minutes."

She nods, takes a deep breath, and you watch in fascination as she transforms back into LE SSERAFIM's leader right before your eyes. Her shoulders straighten, her chin lifts, her expression becomes more controlled. It's like watching an actress step into character—except you know both versions are equally real.

She checks her reflection in her phone, adjusts her belt, smooths her hair with practiced precision. Only you would notice the slight tremble in her fingers, the pink marks on her hips where your hands were, the satisfied glow in her eyes that the camera won't quite catch but you can see clearly.

"How do I look?" she asks, voice steady now, almost back to the professional tone she uses with everyone else.

Like she's just been thoroughly fucked. Like her thighs are still sticky with both of you. Like she's hiding a universe of secrets behind that poised expression. Like she's yours.

"Perfect," you say instead, swallowing the possessive thoughts.

She smiles—not the coy smirk from before, but something genuine that crinkles the corners of her eyes. Then it's gone, replaced by the polished mask she wears for everyone else.

Just as you think she's about to leave, she presses one last kiss to your jaw, her fingers trailing down your chest with deliberate slowness. Her lips move to your ear, breath hot against your skin.

"I'll be thinking about this all night," she whispers, voice dropping to that register that makes your pulse quicken despite your recent release. Then, even lower, just for you: "And touching myself the second I get back to the dorm."

Before you can respond, she's slipped out the door with a final squeeze of your hand, leaving you alone in the storage room with her promise echoing in your mind, the scent of sex still hanging in the air, mingling with her perfume.

You give it two minutes before following, clipboard held strategically in front of you, expression carefully neutral as you adjust your own mask—the efficient manager, all business.

By the time you return, Chaewon is already back on set, taking direction for the next shot, nodding professionally at the photographer's instructions. Her posture is immaculate, her expression perfectly calibrated—looking as composed and professional as if she'd just been touching up her makeup instead of being bent over a shelf with your hand prints on her ass.

No one looks at her twice. No one notices the way she stands slightly differently, favoring one leg. No one sees the slight darkening at the base of her throat where your mouth had been.

You watch from behind the monitor, maintaining a careful distance, occasionally checking your phone or making notes on your clipboard. The perfect picture of professionalism.

She gets into position, poised and beautiful under the lights, following direction flawlessly. The camera loves her—captures her elegance, her poise, but misses completely the woman you know.

Then she glances directly at the camera, and for just a second—

The look she gives—half-lidded eyes, the barest hint of teeth catching her lower lip, a fleeting microexpression of remembered pleasure—that's just for you.

And you know, watching her seamlessly return to her perfect idol persona, that you'll both be counting the minutes until you can be alone again.

...

AN: Yes I'm a certified CHAEWON simp. This is strike 3 chaewon from me with more coming.

[blossom-abby]

tired!abby getting home from a rough mission

Summary: Abby has been away for some time on a mission, and you're there to welcome her back, even when sleep is ready to take over her body any second now. Warnings: Fem!reader, of course. A lot of affection, but all private. Not proofread. Abby getting all the love she deserves <3

tired!abby, who gets home earlier than expected. She had been on a mission for almost 2 weeks now, yet even when it wasn't one of her longest missions by far, the rain made it miserable. The constant flooding of the city of Seattle made the ground rise in heavy mud, clothes weighed a ton, she had cold and sleepless nights, and everyone was in a bad mood. She was ready to come home by the third night.

tired!abby, who has been dating you for almost a year, though you have been friends since you appeared and were accepted by the WLF. Unfortunately, getting your feelings untangled and in a relationship didn't make missions any easier for either of you. You were not a soldier and made sure to never become one, as you much preferred the safety of the stadium, but that also meant being away from Abby every time she worked.

tired!abby misses you by the second night away, not even letting Manny's jokes uplift her spirits. To get herself to close her eyes and sleep whenever she is able to, Abby has to think of how you are home, safe and warm, away from danger, and ready to welcome her back. Some nights are easier than others. During some of them, your image is clear enough to warm her, too. But on other nights, it is too cold, and the sound of the rain too loud for her to mask it with anything else. So, she just stares at the ceiling instead.

tired!abby is somewhat dry by the time she is able to get to her room. She has already delivered the cargo, given back her guns, and recited her summary of the mission as a report to Isaac. By the time she gets close enough to her room, her steps seem to have grown heavier, and her eyes are ready to close for any moment of rest.

tired!abby doesn't notice you at first. The strong light fills her room due to the sun beginning to set, and the yellow tone of the sunrays illuminates the room in a way that doesn't hurt her eyes, but makes comfort wash over her for the sight of her messy room. She notices, first, how Manny has already been there, with his dirty boots by the door and clean clothes over his bed - probably from when he grabbed something to put on after his shower. But then, she hears a short hum of a melody. One she knows very well.

tired!abby walks over to the center of the stairs of the bedroom to try and follow the noise, only to, halfway there, find you facing her bed. Your eyes are scanning through her pile of books, and right as your hand reaches to grab your usual favorite, your voice softly fills the room. "Manny, do you know when Abby-" But you didn't have to finish that sentence, as when you went to look at Manny, you only found her.

tired!abby doesn't say anything, but even as exhausted as she is, a soft smile begins to lift her face. She is more than happy to see you. Her chest already opening to a feeling unlike any other now that she's home. Something she hasn't felt for some days. It is comfort, yet so much more. It is a warmth that fills her entire body. One thing the sun could never go against.

tired!abby takes the heavy backpack off her shoulders before coming any closer to you. Yet you don't hesitate, as you walk directly into her arms. Her bag hits the floor soon after, and her arms wrap around you, too.

tired!abby smells of pine and rain, and her skin still feels damp to the touch. She doesn’t seem to be able to get rid of this new curve on her lips, and you keep on squeezing her close to you and whispering into her shoulder about how much you’ve missed her.

tired!abby’s grin eventually changes into a knowing smirk as you lean a bit away from her and begin your usual ritual of affection. Your hands move over her body as you check her for wounds. Your kisses lay on her skin as you remember how much you've missed her mid-sentence. And with your millions of questions regarding her well-being. She isn’t sure she’s listening to every single thing you say, but she nods and shakes her head to the questions she makes out. Your lips lay kisses on her cold cheeks as she promises that she is not hurt and has kept her late promise of sleeping more during these hard missions. And with all the soft and warm kisses on her cheeks and lips, or hands smoothing over her exposed skin, Abby forces herself not to melt into the floor.

tired!abby makes sure to hold you for a few more minutes after all of it, simply to indulge in all she now has. You never really slow down on all your affection. You had already talked to Manny before she had come in, so you had gotten to know how rough a mission it had been. Manny also had made sure to tell you that Abby, indeed, did not keep her promise and only slept minutes at a time while away. But you don’t have it in you to even call her out on her lie. She is home. She is safe. And that is all that matters right now.

tired!abby’s skin, even after minutes of cuddling in the middle of her room, does not seem to warm up after so many hours in the cold. And as you bring it up, she forces herself to let you go from her hold. A warm shower would do her good, so you help her grab some clothes, knowing that if she even takes a seat on her bed, she will very much fall into a coma. And you hold her hand as she walks over to the showers.

tired!abby is warm after her long shower and greeted back into her room with dinner in your hands. She doesn’t even hesitated to reach for the food. You sit beside her by the small coffee table. Both your voices are low and almost whispery as they always are after Abby’s missions. A ritual you never really understood, but always worked to relax Abby further.

It isn’t by the time you two finally reach bed that tired!abby cannot help but hand you her hairbrush. You sigh, making her true smile shine through her sleepy state, and soon yours does too. She takes a seat on the bed, and you follow.

tired!abby, since her teens, has problems untangling her hair from being stuck on a braid after long missions. It has become a tradition for her to hand you the brush instead since you first saw it, years ago. Just like in that night, Abby's arms ached, and her eyelids were too heavy. All she wanted was sleep. So, since then, you helped her.

You grab tired!abby’s hairbrush and work from her ends to the roots of her otherwise silky blonde hair. Abby struggles to stay awake as you are careful with the knots, and smooth your hands over her scalp when you put down the brush. Your fingers work through her strands, and you lay a kiss over her damp and warm head.

With this, tired!abby finally pulls you down with her to her too-small bed. You lay your head over her shoulder as her breathing slows, and soon you are left to watch her get her promised hours of sleep back. You indulge in this sight as your sweet girl is finally home, too.

[cheftsunoda]

hello, I wanted to ask for a charles + Alexandra poly fic where they ignored her for the longest time while dating her until she's had enough and breaks up with them (make them work for it) but a slight happy ending but lots of angst plssss

too late - cl16 + alexandra

smau + blurbs

charles leclerc x reader x alexandra saint mleux

slight carlos sainz x reader

yn has been with charles and alexandra for a little bit over a year now- and over that past year- she has felt like she has been desperately trying to be seen in her own relationship. yn has had enough and decides to end things with charles and alexandra...the two realize what they lost but will it be too late?

fc : bella hadid (im so gay for blonde bella holy shit)

loosely inspired by 'too late' by sza bc solana is my queen and i love her dearly

-

alexandrasaintmleux

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc and 1,507,023 others.

alexandrasaintmleux : happy happy happy

tagged : charles_leclerc

-

view 130,003 other comments.

username0 : oh shocker another post without yn

username8 : y'all do know another person exists in your relationship right??

charles_leclerc : prettiest girl in the world

liked by alexandrasaintmleux

↳ username10 : oh yn baby close your eyes

yourusername : so beautiful! miss you both <3

↳ username15 : bbg pls just leave this relationship for us and for your sake.

↳ username17 : i get so tired of seeing her comment on both of their posts and her get absolutely ignored.

↳ username20 : fr like why add a third if they act like she isn't even there?

-

'every time you break my heart, it feel new'

I unlocked the door with the key I still wasn’t sure I should have. The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of a Formula 1 replay on the living room TV. Alexandra was curled into the corner of the couch, her hair tucked messily behind her ear, her laptop open but untouched. Charles was pacing the hallway, his phone pressed to his ear, mumbling in French. Neither of them noticed me at first. Figures.

“Hey,” I said softly, dropping my carry-on at the entryway.

Charles turned, surprise flickering in his eyes. “YN? I didn’t know you were coming back tonight.”

“I told you.” My voice was calm. Too calm. “Last Tuesday. Before my flight.”

Alexandra looked up now, blinking. “Oh—right. You said something. Sorry, I’ve been slammed with deadlines.”

I nodded slowly. My heart thudded in my chest, the weight of what I’d come here to say crushing my lungs.

“You look beautiful,” Charles offered, walking closer. “Tired, but beautiful. You always are.”

I didn’t smile. They both looked at me then—really looked. And maybe for the first time in weeks, they noticed the shadows under my eyes. The clenched set of my jaw. The red rim around my waterline from the plane ride, and the crying I did in the taxi. I took a breath.

“I’m ending this.”

Alexandra sat up straight. “What?”

“I can’t do this anymore,” I said, staring at the floor because if I looked into their faces I’d break. “I feel like a ghost in this relationship. I come home to you and it’s like I’m interrupting something I’m not a part of.”

Charles looked genuinely confused. “YN, we love you.”

“No,” I said, voice sharper. “You love each other. I’m just... extra. Decorative. Like something you post when you remember I exist. I’ve been screaming silently for months and neither of you heard me.”

Alexandra stood up now, her eyes wide and panicked. “That’s not true. You’re part of us—”

“Then why do I feel so alone?” I snapped. “Why did I cry myself to sleep in Milan because neither of you even texted me goodnight? Why do I know Charles’ race schedule better than he knows where I was this week?”

Charles stepped forward. “That’s not fair—”

“It’s not fair,” I agreed, cutting him off. “But it’s the truth.”

They both stared at me like I was shattering the world. But it had already broken. I’d just been the only one trying to hold the pieces together.

Alexandra reached for me. “We can fix this. We didn’t realize—”

“No,” I said again, quieter this time. “You don’t get to realize it when I’m already halfway out the door.”

Silence.

“Are you leaving?” Charles asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded. “I packed most of my stuff before I left for the shoot. I’ll send someone for the rest.”

“Please don’t do this,” Alexandra begged. “Please.”

I looked at her—her beautiful, tear-streaked face. Then Charles, who finally looked like he understood the gravity of it all.

“I loved you both so much,” I whispered. “But I won’t keep setting myself on fire just to keep you warm.”

And with that, I turned and walked out the door. Neither of them followed me. Not yet. But maybe, one day, they would.

-

I didn’t even knock. I just buzzed the door and waited, arms wrapped tightly around my chest, sunglasses still covering eyes that hadn’t stopped burning since I left Charles and Alexandra’s apartment. Kika opened the door in her sweats, blinking sleepily.

“Oh, my baby,” she said softly, immediately stepping aside. “Come in.”

I didn’t say anything—I couldn’t. The lump in my throat was lodged deep, painful and stubborn. But when she closed the door behind me and pulled me into a hug, the dam cracked wide open.

“I left them,” I whispered into her shoulder.

Kika didn’t flinch. She just held me tighter.

“I can’t do it anymore,” I mumbled, words muffled by her hoodie. “I begged and waited and tried and they didn’t see me. And now I’m so tired, Kiks. I’m so—tired.”

She pulled back just enough to look at me, brushing hair out of my face. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I knew something was off, babe. I just wanted you to figure it out on your own time.”

“I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not,” she said firmly. “You’re brave. And honestly? You’re overdue for a little revenge sparkle.”

I blinked. “A what?”

“A revenge. Sparkle.” She grinned, already pulling me by the hand toward her room. “We’re going out.”

“Kika, I can’t. I’m wearing sweatpants and yesterday’s mascara.”

“And I love you, but you’re a model. You’re going to look like you just walked off the runway no matter what. Give me twenty minutes.”

Twenty-eight minutes later, I was wearing one of Kika’s dresses—black, short, with delicate straps that barely held on. She’d done my hair in soft waves, the kind that looked careless. My eyeliner was sharp enough to cut diamonds, and my lips were slick with gloss that shimmered like I hadn’t just cried out my heartbreak on her floor.

She stood behind me at the mirror, fixing her earrings. “You look like sin.”

“I feel like a mess.”

“That’s okay,” she said, handing me a shot. “We drink to that too.”

—

'had to be alone to figure out how i should be loved'

The club was loud and hazy and full of people who didn’t know me—or worse, did. I felt their eyes. Some recognized me from campaigns. A few, maybe from F1 weekends. A handful, probably from Charles’ arm. But tonight I was no one’s anything. I was just me.

Kika pulled me to the dance floor with the kind of joy that only comes from a friend who knows exactly what you need and isn’t afraid to drag it out of you. We danced. I laughed—really laughed—for the first time in weeks.

Some guy tried to touch my waist. Kika practically hissed at him. “Not tonight, Romeo.”

A girl complimented my shoes. Another asked if I was the face of the Tom Ford campaign. We continued to dance until our legs hurt, until sweat made my hair stick to the back of my neck, until I could almost forget the aching hollowness in my chest.

Kika dragged me off the dance floor and into a quieter section of the VIP lounge. “You need water,” she said firmly. “And probably a fan.”

I flopped down onto one of the couches with a huff, head tilted back and the lights above making halos in my vision. I felt hazy. Not drunk—just overwhelmed. Light-headed from too many emotions and too little oxygen.

“YN?”

I blinked. The voice was familiar, warm, and just surprised enough to make me sit up straighter. Carlos.

He was standing a few feet away, wearing a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a slightly confused smile on his face. His hair was slightly messy, like he’d run his hands through it too many times. And he was holding two drinks.

“Kika?” he asked, eyes flicking between us. “What did you drag her into?”

Kika smirked. “Revenge clubbing.”

Carlos’ brows lifted. He looked at me again—really looked. And then it clicked. His face softened.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and careful.

“I’ve been better,” I admitted, adjusting the strap of Kika’s dress. “But I’ve also been worse.”

He hesitated for half a second, then walked over and held out one of the drinks. “This was supposed to be for Lando, but he left to flirt with someone, so…”

I accepted it with a small smile. “Thanks.”

Carlos didn’t sit, not at first. He just hovered there, like he wasn’t sure if he was invited or if I wanted space. But I didn’t.

“Sit,” I said, gesturing to the spot beside me.

He did. Kika glanced between us and then stood. “I’m gonna go powder my nose—or whatever people say when they want to let friends talk.”

She disappeared into the crowd. Carlos leaned back, sipping his drink. “So. You really ended it.”

I turned to him, startled. “You knew?”

He shrugged gently. “Charles hasn’t said anything. But I know him. And I know you. And I’ve been watching this… thing… with the three of you for a while. You didn’t look happy anymore.”

I stared at the ice melting in my glass.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “You deserve better than being someone’s background.”

I looked up at him. “Thanks. That’s… really kind.”

He gave me a crooked smile. “I’m Spanish. We’re either reckless or romantic. Or both.”

I laughed—actually laughed, surprising even myself.

Carlos tilted his head. “There she is.”

“What?”

“That smile. Haven’t seen it properly in a while.”

My heart tugged a little. Not in a romantic way—not yet, not tonight—but in that aching way you feel when someone really sees you.

“Wanna dance?” he asked suddenly.

I looked at him, brows raised. “You?”

“I’m not terrible,” he said with a mock-wounded pout. “And I figured… if anyone deserves to be spun around the floor like a queen tonight, it’s you.”

I paused for half a second. Then set down my drink.

“Let’s go.”

And when he pulled me toward the music, laughing as I rolled my eyes but let him lead anyway, I felt something click—not healing, not completely. But something warm. Something light.

-

f1gossipgirls

liked by lando and 874,302 others.

f1gossipgirls : Model YN LN was spotted in the club last night with none other than, Carlos Sainz. The two were seen dancing and sitting rather close in the club and then were seen leaving hand in hand. LN has been in a relationship with both Charles Leclerc and Alexandra Saint Mleux for over the last year but sources close say that their relationship has recently went south? Is this confirmation of that?

-

view 205,034 other comments.

username0 : lando's messy ass in the likes

username7 : idc if they’re just friends. yn was glowing and that’s all that matters. let my girl heal in peace

username8 : alexandra and charles ignoring her for months and now they’re gonna see her thriving with carlos?? iktr mama

username15 : they always had chemistry whenever they were spotted in group pics i KNEW IT

username11 : i can sleep well at night knowing the carlos will treat her how she deserves

username18 : notice how none of these comments pity charles or alex bc everyone knows they did our girl wrong

liked by f1gossipgirls

-

third person pov

Charles was half-asleep on the couch, phone in hand, the Monaco sunset bleeding into the living room. Alexandra sat cross-legged beside him, scrolling absentmindedly until she suddenly froze.

“Charles,” she said quietly, tone sharp with disbelief.

He barely looked up. “Hm?”

“Look at this.”

She turned her phone toward him. There it was — a grainy paparazzi photo, flash caught mid-motion- YN in a tiny black dress, smiling. Carlos Sainz beside her, hand in hers, leading her out of the club. Another shot, closer, of them dancing. Charles sat up fully now, taking the phone from her hands. His jaw clenched.

“I didn’t even know she was still in Monaco,” he muttered, voice low, unreadable.

Alexandra swallowed hard. “Did you see the caption? The comments?”

Charles nodded slowly, scrolling.

He exhaled, almost scoffing—but there was no humor in it.

“She really meant it. She is done."

Alexandra didn’t say anything. The air between them thickened, heavy with the realization they were both too late. And Carlos… Carlos had been right there to pick up the pieces. Charles handed her back the phone, but his eyes stayed locked on the screen, like if he stared hard enough, maybe she'd look back at him. She didn’t.

-

yourusername

liked by franciscagomes, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc & 2,084,035 others.

yourusername : kika helped me build the furniture for my new apartment so i made her a romantic candlelit dinner ;) and carlos... he just looked pretty

tagged : franciscagomes, carlossainz55

-

pierregasly : were the rose petals and candles really necessary?

liked by yourusername and franciscagomes

↳ yourusername : she deserves the best pear. and if you hate that- you'd really hate what i gave her for dessert.

liked by franciscagomes

↳ pierregasly : BLAH BLAH BLAH I CAN'T HEAR YOU

liked by yourusername and franciscagomes

lando : carlos is rlly pretty. (get your paws off my man)

liked by yourusername and carlossainz55

↳ yourusername : dw i could never break up carlando 🙄

liked by lando and carlossainz55

username0 : charles in the LIKESSSS

↳ lando : oh but im the messy one

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : messy and NOSEY

liked by lando

carlossainz55 : could never be prettier than you, cariño

liked by yourusername and lando

-

'you be on my phone talking 'bout what's my problem?'

your pov

I opened the door and nearly tripped over the latest delivery. Another bouquet. Bigger this time. Deep red roses mixed with white lilies, tied together with a silk ribbon that had 'please read the card' scribbled in familiar handwriting. I stepped over it. The hallway was already crowded—vases on countertops, little gift bags lining the entryway, a Chanel box I hadn’t opened, and a coffee table book on Italian photography I hadn’t asked for but knew Charles had once said I’d love. I should’ve felt flattered. Wanted. I used to dream about gestures like this—grand, romantic, persistent. Now it just felt… too late. My phone buzzed on the counter again. The screen lit up.

Charles is calling...

I stared at it long enough for it to stop ringing. It buzzed again two minutes later. And against every instinct, every ache in my chest, I answered.

“Hello?”

Silence—just for a beat—and then-

“YN?”

His voice was so soft I nearly forgot how much it used to feel like home.

“Yeah,” I said, quietly.

“I—uh—I didn’t think you’d pick up.”

“I almost didn’t.”

I heard him exhale, like just hearing my voice knocked the breath out of him.

“How are you?” he asked, hesitant. “I mean… how’s the new place?”

“It’s good,” I said. “Kika helped me build furniture. Carlos made pasta.”

He didn’t reply at first, but I heard the tightness in the silence.

“You’ve been sending a lot of flowers,” I added.

“I didn’t know what else to do.”

I leaned against the counter, eyes on the newest bouquet.

“I didn’t leave because I wanted you to prove you cared, Charles,” I said gently. “I left because I was tired of begging to matter.”

“I know,” he said, voice low. “And I’m sorry. God, YN, I’m so sorry. We both are. We… we messed it all up.”

“Yeah,” I whispered. “You did.”

There was a pause. A long one. He didn’t argue. He didn’t defend. For once, he didn’t try to fix it with charm or promises. I appreciated that.

“But I can’t… forgive you yet,” I said finally. “I’m not saying never. Just… not now.”

The silence on the other end was heavy.

“I understand,” he said softly. “But we’re not giving up. Me and Alex. We’re going to keep trying. Even if it takes time. Even if it hurts.”

I closed my eyes.

“I know you will,” I said. “But I don’t need flowers or gifts.”

“What do you need?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

“Space,” I said. “And maybe one day… honesty. Real honesty. About everything. About why it took me leaving for you to realize I was fading.”

He didn’t respond to that. He didn’t need to.

“Take care of yourself, Charles,” I murmured. “Goodbye.”

And then I hung up—gently. Not in anger. Not in heartbreak. Just… in peace. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I had the final word. And it was enough.

_

weloveyn

liked by franciscagomes, alexandrasaintmleux, lando & 905,043 others.

weloveyn : YN was seen leaving her apartment in Monaco today with a new look. She is now BLONDE. And can we just say....SHE ABSOLUTELY ATE DOWN.

tagged : yourusername

-

view 52,002 other comments.

username0 : she didn’t just eat… she devoured… she licked the plate clean… she sent the kitchen on fire

liked by yourusername and franciscagomes

username10 : charles and alexandra are going to be ill over this

liked by franciscagomes

lando : oh it EATS

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : i love you but this further proves my point that you are nosey as hell.

liked by lando

franciscagomes : the prettiest angel there ever was

liked by yourusername and alexandrasaintmleux

↳ yourusername : forever in love w u

username00 : alex in the likes OH SHE IS SICK

-

'moving so close, we combust'

I hadn’t meant to walk this way. The bakery was muscle memory — early mornings, almond croissants, little old ladies who called me “chérie” and complimented my shoes. I’d forgotten it was their bakery too. I was halfway to the door, sunglasses pushed into my hair, when I saw her. Alexandra. Standing at the outdoor table, two empty coffee cups in front of her, phone in hand. She looked up at the sound of my steps — and froze. So did I. She was still beautiful, of course. The kind of beauty that felt timeless and cinematic. But her eyes looked tired, like sleep had been something optional lately. Or impossible. I thought about walking away. I didn’t.

“Hi,” I said softly, arms folded over my chest — not in defense, just to hold myself together.

Alexandra stood slowly, slipping her phone into her coat pocket.

“Hi.”

We stared at each other for a second too long.

“Blonde,” she finally said, her voice tight but not unkind. “It suits you.”

I gave her a small smile. “Thanks. New era.”

She nodded. “Yeah. I can tell.”

There was a pause. Monaco traffic buzzed behind us. Someone’s dog barked down the street. But everything felt muted.

“I’ve been meaning to call you,” she said. “I just… didn’t know what I’d say.”

“That I was right?” I offered, half a joke. Half a wound.

Alexandra winced — not dramatically, just a flicker. “Yeah. That too.”

I looked at her for a long time. I didn’t hate her. That was the strangest part. I loved her once. Maybe some part of me still did. But the hurt was louder.

“You didn’t fight for me when it mattered,” I said quietly. “Neither of you did.”

“I know,” she said, and her voice cracked just enough to make me look away.

“I don’t hate you,” I added. “I’m just done bleeding for people who only notice the mess after the fact.”

Alexandra nodded, swallowing hard.

“Carlos?” she asked softly.

I tilted my head. “Maybe. I’m not rushing anything. He’s… kind.”

A beat passed.

“I’m glad,” she said, and her smile — though fragile — looked real. “You deserve kind.”

I didn’t say thank you. I just gave a small nod, stepping past her toward the door.

“YN?” she called gently, just as I reached the handle.

I turned.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “For all of it.”

I didn’t answer right away. Then, simply- “I know.” And I walked inside, the door clicking shut behind me.

-

third person pov

Alexandra closed the front door behind her with a soft click, like anything louder might shatter the silence that already felt fragile. She didn’t take off her coat. Didn’t slip off her shoes. She just stood in the hallway, staring at the bouquet of slightly wilted flowers on the console table — the ones Charles had picked out last week. Another offering YN never accepted. Charles appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel, brows furrowing the moment he saw her.

“Alex?”

She looked up, and that was all it took. The tears started before she could even speak. He rushed to her, towel dropping to the floor as he reached out, but she shook her head and stepped back, covering her mouth with one hand like she could hold everything in.

“I saw her,” she choked. “This morning. She was at the bakery.”

Charles froze. “YN?”

Alexandra nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “She looked so… good. Bright. Like she was breathing again. Like we were never anything but a bruise she already healed from.”

Charles didn’t say anything. He just stared at her, expression crumbling slowly with every word.

“I told her I was sorry,” Alexandra whispered, voice cracking. “And she said she knows. But she didn’t say she forgives us. She didn’t say she misses us. She didn’t even… flinch.”

Charles stepped forward then, gently pulling her into his arms. She collapsed against his chest, burying her face in his shirt as the sobs came harder now, heavy and guttural.

“I let her go,” Alexandra cried. “We let her go. We ignored her and she left, and now someone else is making her smile and we just—stood there.”

Charles’s arms tightened around her. “I know,” he whispered, eyes closed, his own throat burning. “I know.”

She pulled back, hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt, eyes searching his face.

“She’s not coming back, is she?”

He didn’t answer right away. Because he couldn’t lie.

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “But I don’t think she should—not until we’re better. Not until we’re someone who’d never make her feel that way again.”

Alexandra let out a shaky breath, wiping her face, her voice nothing but a whisper now.

“Then we have to become those people. Even if it’s too late.”

Charles looked at her — at the woman who once stood beside him as they promised the world to a third they thought they’d never lose. And for the first time in weeks, he nodded.

“We will.”

Even if it meant they’d have to love her from a distance. Even if it meant she never looked back.

-

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, carlossainz55 & 8,010,005 others.

yourusername : my new brand @/yourbrandname has officially launched worldwide!! i have worked on this collection for so long and have poured my heart and soul into every piece. thank you all for all the support! i love love love you!!

shop online and in select stores now!

-

view 340,200 other comments.

username0 : mkay but can we talk about the fact that charles and alexandra showed up at the launch??

↳ username15 : whattttt?

↳ username0 : yeah they were there watching her- i don't know if they had any interactions but they were there. vid is on twitter

↳ username8 : its ironic how when they were dating- they wouldn't show up but now that she broke it off with them - they show up.

↳ username20 : some ppl don't realize what they have until it is gone

liked by yourusername

lando : So like… do I get a friends and family discount or do I have to model?

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : i do not want YOU on my advertisements so i will just give it to you for free

liked by lando

↳ lando : gonna act like you didn't just insult me and take this as a win

liked by yourusername

franciscagomes : SO FREAKING PROUD OF YOU!! i love you sm my angel

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : love you even more

lilymhe : SLAYYYYYED. need the whole collection.

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : it is on it's way to yours rn ;)

↳ lilymhe : OH MY GOD FDHASDLJ ily

liked by yourusername

carlossainz55 : so proud of you. you are absolutely incredible.

liked by yourusername

charles_leclerc : Well deserved. Congrats, YNN.

↳ username0 : OHHH

arthur_leclerc : Congratulations, YN! Looks great!

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : thanks for the flowers, thur!

liked by arthur_leclerc

↳ username8 : her and arthur always got along so well. this break up pains me

↳ username15 : they are def still friends just not future in laws anymore

lewishamilton : So talented! I love every part of this collection!

liked by yourusername

-

'is it too late for us? we both scared to love.'

I wasn’t sure what I expected—chaos, maybe. Nerves, definitely. But instead, the store buzzed with warmth. Friends wandered between racks, models sipped champagne, cameras clicked gently as people snapped photos of the collection I’d dreamt of for years. And at the center of it all- me. Standing in something I designed, something that carried my name on the tag. I kept waiting to feel like a fraud. I didn’t.

Kika had cried the second she walked in. She pulled me into a hug and whispered, “You did it,” in that proud, soft voice of hers, and I nearly cried too. She was still floating around now, chatting with a stylist near the window, holding one of the trench coats I had stitched the prototype of in a hotel room six months ago.

Carlos had arrived not long after. No entourage, no flash. Just him—warm, solid, smiling. He’d brought flowers wrapped in brown paper and joked that he’d read somewhere it was what sophisticated men brought to fashion launches. I hadn’t stopped smiling since. I was halfway through answering a question from someone with a clipboard when I felt it. That prickle. Like eyes on the back of my neck. I turned casually. Slowly. And there they were.

Charles and Alexandra.

They were standing by the far wall, mostly tucked behind a display of curated accessories. He had his hands in his pockets, brows faintly drawn like he didn’t know what to do with himself. She stood beside him, quiet, her expression unreadable but not cold.

They didn’t wave. Didn’t call out. They were just there. And somehow… I didn’t feel shaken. I didn’t feel anything jagged. I looked at them for a moment—long enough that Charles seemed to hold his breath. Then I smiled. Soft. Gentle. Distant, but real. He smiled back, just a twitch of the lips, like he was surprised I’d acknowledged them at all. Before I could think about it too much, an arm slipped around my waist and pulled me back into something warm and familiar.

Carlos.

“Hey,” he murmured into my ear. “You okay?”

I nodded, leaning into him instinctively. “Yeah. I am.”

He pressed a quick kiss to my temple before pulling back, hands still on my waist as he grinned at me.

“They’re all obsessed with you,” he said, motioning to the crowd. “You’ve got about six stylists fighting over that coat you’re wearing.”

I laughed, tension slipping off my shoulders like an old jacket.

“Let them fight,” I said.

Carlos chuckled. “That’s my girl.”

And when I looked back toward the wall, Charles and Alexandra were gone.

-

third person pov

Charles exhaled slowly as the door to the boutique shut behind them, the soft chime of the bell swallowed by the hum of the Monaco street. He stood still for a moment, eyes lingering on the shop’s glowing windows — on the movement inside, on her.

YN.

Laughing as someone held up a dress. Reaching for Carlos’s hand as he leaned in to whisper something. Shining. Alexandra didn’t speak. She stood beside him in silence, her coat wrapped tightly around her frame despite the warm air. She was staring at YN, too.

“She looked… happy,” Charles said finally, his voice rough.

“She is happy,” Alexandra answered softly, not bitter, not broken — just honest.

A beat passed.

“She saw us,” he added. “She smiled.”

Alexandra nodded, her throat tightening. “But not for us. Not like before.”

Charles dragged a hand through his hair, jaw clenched. “Do you think she hates us?”

“No,” Alexandra whispered. “But I think she learned how to live without us. And that’s worse.”

The words sat between them like weight. Inside the shop, YN had moved behind the counter. Carlos was helping her with a gift bag, their hands brushing. She laughed again — lighter this time. Effortless. Charles turned away from the window like it burned. His hands shook a little, just enough that Alexandra noticed.

“She was the best thing that ever happened to us,” he murmured. “And we ruined it.”

Alexandra stepped closer, looping her arm through his. “Then we fix it.”

He looked at her, searching her face.

“Even if she’s with him?”

Alexandra nodded. “Even then. If she’s happier without us, then we let her be. But if there’s even a chance she still loves us…”

“We fight,” Charles finished, voice firmer now.

Alexandra’s grip tightened. “We earn her back. Properly. No grand gestures. No noise. Just real change.”

Charles looked back at the store one last time — at YN glowing in a space she’d built with her own hands.

“She deserves that,” he said. “More than anyone.”

And though neither of them said it out loud, they both knew one thing for sure: They weren’t giving up. Not yet. Not ever.

-

alexandrasaintmleux added a post to her story!

seen by yourusername, charles_leclerc, franciscagomes and 2,090,001 others.

{caption : so proud}

-

f1gossipgirls

785,083 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Carlos Sainz has arrived today with YN LN- the two have sparked romance rumors off and on since she split with Charles Leclerc and Alexandra Saint Mleux. YN was later seen during the race with Kika and a few other wags. Thoughts?

-

view 127,034 other comments.

username0 : js she looks way more relaxed and radiant with carlos than she ever did with them

username10 : charles and alexandra fumbled the bag so hard, i don’t even think it’s recoverable at this point

username11 : i know charles saw her walk in and just stopped breathing for a full thirty seconds

username20 : this is messy but i respect it

username18 : anyone see that vid of her and alexandra talking?? im unwell

↳ username22 : NO i need it now

↳ username18 : @/f1drama on twitter

↳ username15 : omg omg

-

'and if it's just us, is that enough?'

The sun was relentless — Monaco golden, glinting off everything from garages to mirrored sunglasses. I adjusted my purse on my shoulder, the heel of my boot clicking steadily on the paddock concrete. Beside me, Carlos kept pace easily, hands in his pockets, sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t talking much — he didn’t need to. It was in the way he tilted his head when someone looked too long, in the way he shifted slightly closer when we walked past cameras. Protective without being possessive. Soft without asking for anything in return.

We turned a corner, and I spotted them instantly, Kika, standing with one foot popped in front of the other like the natural model she is, and Lily beside her in a red midi skirt and dark shades, waving me over like I wasn’t surrounded by half the media circuit.

“There she is,” Lily grinned, pulling me into a hug. “You’re literally glowing. Like — did heartbreak make you stronger or are you just sleeping now?”

“Both,” I laughed, squeezing her back. “Also Carlos brought me espresso this morning, which honestly rewired my brain chemistry.”

Carlos chuckled behind me. “Just doing my part.”

Kika leaned in with a grin, brushing hair from my shoulder. “The top is from your line, isn’t it?”

“Obviously,” I winked.

We were still mid-catch-up when I felt the shift. Like a shadow casting across bright fabric. Like silence that doesn’t belong. I turned — slowly — already knowing. Alexandra.

She stood a few feet away, hands clenched around the strap of her bag, eyes flicking between me and Carlos before landing on mine and staying there.

“Hi,” she said, voice soft but steady.

Lily glanced at me, then Carlos. Kika took a subtle step back, as if ready to deflect any unwanted energy, but I held up a hand. Just a flick of my fingers. It was fine. Not comfortable. But fine.

“Hi,” I said, not unkindly.

Her gaze darted toward Carlos again, then back. “Can I talk to you?” she asked, barely above a whisper. “Alone?”

Carlos shifted beside me, hesitant, but I touched his arm lightly.

“It’s okay,” I murmured.

He nodded once, catching my eye. “I’ll be in the garage.”

I watched him go — the back of his Williams polo disappearing into the crowd — and then turned to Alexandra fully. The silence between us was thick. Not angry, not awkward. Just… heavy. Like memory.

Alexandra’s eyes brimmed with something close to hope and heartache. She looked like she wanted to fall apart and apologize a hundred times over, all at once.

“I’m not here to push you,” she said, voice quiet. “I just… miss you. We both do. I know we handled everything horribly. I just wanted you to know I’ve been working on that. I’ve been trying.”

I let out a slow breath, my gaze dropping to the ground for a second before returning to her. She wasn’t lying. That much I could feel.

“I know,” I said gently. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t hate you. I never did.”

Her lip trembled slightly. “Then maybe… maybe we could talk sometime? Not now. Just… whenever you’re ready. About everything. Or nothing. I’d just like to see you. Really see you.”

I hesitated — not because I didn’t want that. But because I was still learning how to not give all of myself away too quickly.

Still, something in me softened. That ache, the unfinished thread that tied us together, tugged gently at my ribs.

“Okay,” I said finally. “We can talk. Not today. But… soon.”

Alexandra’s eyes lit up just a little. “Yeah?”

I nodded. “I mean it.”

She didn’t move to hug me. She didn’t try to push it further. She just smiled — small, real, a little broken — and whispered, “Thank you.”

And when I turned to walk back toward Kika and Lily, Carlos already standing there with a patient smile on his face, I felt the strange calm of forward motion.

I wasn’t going backward. But maybe — just maybe — I didn’t have to pretend like nothing had ever mattered.

-

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-

'i just wanna be loved

and loving you sucks

i can't get enough

is it bad that i want more?

is it too late for us?'

It started with a message from Kika. Just a simple, 'Wear something nice. No questions. I’m picking you up at 7.'

I stared at the text for a full minute, considering ignoring it — considering staying on the couch in Carlos’ hoodie and watching reruns of New Girl and pretending I didn’t feel the weight in my chest. But something in the quiet confidence of her words, something in the way she'd never pushed before, made me pause. So I got dressed.

Nothing too much. Just a silky navy dress that I hadn’t worn in a while and a soft makeup look. Hair pinned loosely back. Like I wanted to feel like myself, not someone trying too hard. The car ride was mostly silent. Kika just smiled at me when I asked where we were going, and I gave up trying to guess.

Until we pulled up outside a quiet little art gallery tucked off a side street in Monaco. The lights inside were dim, warm, golden. A soft piano track was playing — live, I realized, as we stepped inside and I saw a man sitting at a baby grand in the corner. And then I saw them.

Charles. Alexandra.

Standing at the center of the gallery like they were holding their breath. The instinct was to leave. To turn on my heel and walk back into the night where I could control the narrative, keep my heart zipped up in the steel-walled suitcase I’d packed it into. But then I looked around.

The gallery wasn’t just any gallery. The walls were covered in photographs. Of me. Not paparazzi shots. Not campaign stills. But moments.

Private, quiet ones. Me laughing in a car window. Me curled up on a couch with a book. My hand slipping into Alexandra’s under a blanket. My head on Charles’ shoulder backstage at a shoot. A polaroid of all three of us in the kitchen at two a.m., flour on our faces and smiles in our eyes.

All framed. All lit delicately. A hundred memories arranged like an apology. I swallowed hard.

“This was Alexandra’s idea,” Charles said first. His voice cracked slightly, and that made my throat ache.

“I helped,” he added, trying for a smile. “But she… she planned everything.”

I turned to Alexandra. Her eyes were glassy, but her voice was steady.

“I didn’t know how else to show you,” she said. “That we see you. That we remember every moment. That we’re not trying to erase what we did wrong — just to prove we can be better.”

I looked at the photo nearest to me. It was from last summer. Me in a sundress, barefoot on the terrace, holding a drink and laughing like the world was soft and mine.

“I don’t need grand gestures,” I whispered, not taking my eyes off the photo. “I needed you to listen. And for so long, you didn’t.”

“I know,” Alexandra said, her voice breaking.

“We know,” Charles echoed, stepping forward. “We were selfish. And we hurt you. And we kept hurting you, even when we didn’t realize it. But YN… we never stopped loving you.”

“I thought I stopped loving you,” I admitted, voice thick. “I really did. I needed to.”

“And now?” Charles asked gently.

I turned toward them. Both of them. Alexandra had tears on her cheeks. Charles’ hands were shaking at his sides.

“Now… I don’t know,” I said honestly. “Part of me still aches. Part of me still wants to run. But there’s also a part of me that… that sees this. That sees what you’re trying to do. And I don’t want to keep pretending like none of it mattered. Because it did. You did.”

Alexandra stepped forward, slowly, like I was made of glass.

“We’re not asking you to come back,” she said. “Not yet. Maybe not ever. We just… we wanted you to know you were worth this. You are worth this.”

I let the words sit between us.

Then I said, “I don’t want to go back to what we were. But maybe… maybe we can try something new. Slowly. Carefully.”

Charles exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for months.

“We’ll go as slow as you want,” he said. “We’ll wait as long as you need.”

I looked at them — both of them. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself believe in the possibility of something gentle again.

“I’m not promising anything,” I said, lips trembling. “But I’m here.”

Alexandra reached out, hesitating, then carefully took my hand. Charles followed, his fingers brushing mine softly like he was afraid I’d disappear. And under the soft lights of a gallery full of memories, I didn’t run. I stayed. Maybe not to fall back into love. But maybe, just maybe… to rebuild it.

-

[onsomenewsht]

I feel like this is the beginning, though I've loved you for a million years

About when your daughter takes a vow of silence and Alexia takes it better than you

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: +1.7k

》 babies cry with an accent [fun fact]: studies suggest that newborns cry with a certain "prosody", to imitate the prevailing intonation patterns of the language they heard while still in the womb

“Diana, go wash your hands, dinner is ready”

The little girl doesn’t dignify you with a verbal answer, her small chin set in a familiar, stubborn line – a clear declaration of intent.

The vow of silence stretches into its third day, the longest one so far in her short life.

The quiet atmosphere of the apartment, filled with the child-approved playlist you put on, is interrupted by the unexpected sound of the bell.

You barely see your daughter sprinting toward the bathroom as you go check the door, wondering who could be at this time of day, unannounced.

“Alexia?”, you can’t hide the surprise in your voice.

The footballer, your fuck buddy for the past couple of months, surely the last person you expected to find behind the door.

Her bright smile dims a little at your slightly panicked reaction, effectively blocking her view of your home’s entrance. The blonde’s gaze drops to the vibrant bouquet she’s tightly holding in her hand.

“Hi”

“What are you doing here?”

“I– ehm, I wanted to surprise you”, she admits shyly, her voice strained to reveal the underlying tension of the situation, “And I can see you’re surprised”

“Sorry, I just–”

The attempt to explain is cut short by a running kid crushing the back of your legs with all the force a four-year-old can manage.

A lot, apparently.

Your hand reaches for the head of your daughter, affectionately ruffling her dark hair as she hides her face behind you when she notices the stranger at the door.

The warmth of her small body pressing against you is grounding, familiar weight bringing you back to the present as the scent of a fruit-flavoured soap fills your senses and anchors you in the moment.

When you finally meet Alexia’s eyes again, she’s looking at you like she’s seeing you for the first time.

In a way, it’s true.

Meeting her in a club a couple of months ago was fun and thrilling, one of the best nights you had in a long time.

Not that you will tell your best friend that, since she had to drag you out to take advantage of Diana sleeping at your mom’s house.

One night with Alexia turns into two, and from there, you lose count pretty easily.

It starts without much thinking, for both of you, as a way to de-stress and drop the responsibilities and the weight you felt on your shoulders. A shared escape from the demands of two very different lives.

It starts as a fun time, but it turns a bit more serious as coffee dates and movie marathons added up to the late-night meetings.

Most of the time, you spend the night at her place, having a couple of days by yourself when Diana is with her father and you don’t have to worry about coming up with a new bedtime story.

Sometimes Alexia drops you off right outside of your apartment’s building, wondering, with a hint of doubt and maybe even disappointment, why you never invited her over.

The answer, small and still silent, peeks out from behind your legs with curious eyes.

“Ale–”

“Sorry, this was a bad idea”, she mutters when she notices Diana tugging at your shirt to get your attention.

“Diana, thank Alexia for the flowers”, you prompt hopefully.

The footballer takes a couple of steps away, stopping suddenly and turning around to hand you the bouquet.

The little girl snatches the flowers before you can even react, burying her nose in the blooms dramatically. A scene that makes both you and Alexia genuinely smile.

The silence vow still unbroken, but it gives you time to come up with a decision.

You shake your head, amused, as your daughter goes for a timid and quick hug, her dark curls brushing against the Catalan’s legs as she drops her short arms around them.

She’s retreating behind you just as fast.

Bending down with a smile, you make sure the kid understands what you ask is completely up to her, “Is it okay if Alexia joins us for dinner?”

Your daughter fixes her eyes on the blonde woman for what feels like the longest 10 seconds of your life, studying her with an intensity that makes you slightly nervous.

Under the pointed gaze, the footballer never looked this shy and unsure. As if your daughter can uncover her biggest secrets and deepest fears.

Diana simply nods, her vibrant eyes fixed on Alexia with a hit of curiosity.

“You have her blessing, I guess that’s all we can get from her since she’s on silent strike”

“What?”, the blonde asks, her head snapping up so quickly she almost gets whiplash.

You don’t miss the smile blooming on her face as she meets your eyes.

“Join us for dinner, I made lasagna”

At the reminder, Diana effectively drags you inside the house, one hand firmly holding your shirt and eagerly gesturing for your guest to come in while still clutching the flowers in the other.

You breathe out in relief when you hear the door closing and the blonde woman following you. The little girl is so impatient to eat that she has added a seat on the table even before you two enter the kitchen.

The dinner is filled with your daughter’s stories, told through rushed waves and expressive glances, even without her uttering a single word. Her small fingers move faster and messily, making you and Alexia try to guess what she’s saying, glaring at you both when you fail to understand her seemingly clear gestures.

The kid is usually really talkative, never backing down from an opportunity to fill your ears with her adventures and ideas. The silent vow had been a welcoming change for the first couple of hours, but it turned alarming after a full day.

At this point you’re just going with the flow.

You’re truly amused by Alexia, who quickly overcomes her initial shock and manages to become the girl’s favorite person in a confusing exchange of hand gestures.

She’s going with the flow too.

“It’s obvious, the green lime dog ate the cookies”

“I don’t know Ale, I think she did”

“Trust me, this definitely means the green lime dog stole the cookies”

They even high five right on your face, teaming up way too soon, as you pretend to fall for their lies.

You can’t hold back a laugh as you watch the usually composed Alexia, a two-time Ballon d’Or winner, throw her hands up in the air, exaggerating a dramatic gasp just as Diana had done, perfectly capturing the little girl’s theatrical story.

A compelling explanation to assure you she hadn't been the one to eat the chocolate treats from the jar she knows she’s not supposed to reach on her own.

After dinner, Diana convinces the captain to join her in the living room’s floor to play with her impressive collection of lion-shaped toys – without even that much of a fight from the older woman. Eager eyes constantly seeking Alexia’s, you sit with them a bit aside, to contribute to their playtime without really interfering.

You clearly notice the kid’s struggle to not speak, a visible effort in her tight lips and the way she holds her tongue, resorting to bursts of laughter and exaggerated lion roars.

She’s showcasing an impressive autocontrol, you have to admit.

“Let me just get her in bed and we can talk”

The Catalan simply nods, a soft smile on her lips as you guide a sleepy Diana toward the bathroom, her head already starting to droop on your shoulder. Your daughter insists on saying goodbye to her new friend, and you don’t fight back, watching as they share a warm hug and, you’re quite sure, some secret whispered words.

When you meet Alexia back in the living room, the kid tucked in without too much of a trouble, you notice she has meticulously put away the toys in the box they came from.

“She’s Diana, she’s four and she’s my daughter”, you state as you drop next to her on the couch.

“I could tell, she’s like a mini version of you”

She doesn’t look angry.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before”, the words feel wrong, inadequate to really explain your decision.

She looks hurt, and that’s worse.

“It’s okay, I can understand you wanted to protect her”, she reaches for your hand, “It’s not like I can see you tell me about her as we are having casual sex”

“It hasn’t been casual for a while, for me”, you admit, your gaze softening.

“I came here to ask you out on a proper date”

Well, the night had taken an unexpected turn for both of you.

“She’s my priority, Alexia”, you begin, your voice soft but firm, squeezing her hand when her gaze drops, a shadow of uncertainty crossing your face.

“Of course, I–”

“She’s my priority, but I can’t and I don’t want to deny how much I’d like to go on a proper date with you”

“But you wanted to ask me out before you knew about Diana, I understand if you don’t–”

It’s not the first time Alexia’s laugh fills your home, but you’re pretty sure each one has been better than the previous.

Maybe you’re a bit too scared of the possibility of losing this, losing her already.

“Stop right there, I still want to go on a proper date with you”, she looks pretty frustrated, trying to explain herself while being considerate of your feelings and the situation, “I think I like you even more”

“Are you sure?”

“Diana is a wonderful kid, and I met her just a couple of hours ago during her silent strike”, the blonde says, and you both giggle at the little girl’s antics, the tension in the room easing.

“She’s everything for me, Ale”

“You want to protect her, I respect that”

You’re getting quite emotional, overwhelmed by Alexia’s understanding and your selfish desire to keep her in your life without hurting hers or your feelings in the process.

Or worse, your daughter’s.

“I’m willing to see what happens if you are too, no pressure”

“Alexia, I have a daughter you just find out about”

“Don’t worry, I will win her over too when the time comes”

[thebluediner]

5 times Billie and reader almost expose their relationship + 1 time they officially announce their relationship

a/n: got excited about this one so I immediately put on a romcom playlist and started writing so uhm four weeks or so later I'm publishing thus lmaooo. I'm only posting it because I'm about to ghost you guys for the next couple of days

COULDN'T HELP BUT SLIP AND SPILL

the first time billie just couldn't control herself. you both were attending a formal event in california. it was the type of event where there was a lot of noise inside and outside. you both were standing next to each other conversing with some mutual friends and industry people.

billie's mind somehow gravitated away from the conversation to you. the dress you wore was backless showing off your bare skin sure you had an expensive accessory dangling to decorate your back but billie thought her hand was way better. her hand started crawling your back tracing your spine. the moment you felt it you eyes shifted to hers warning her of what she was doing but she just smirked and placed her hand on your lower back instead.

social media had a field day with that video.

second time it really was not your fault or billies. billie was shooting for vogue and you came by just to show your support. the thing with being in a relationship is the pda comes a bit too naturally even without the kissing and overwhelming displays of affection. billie had some time off the shoot to which she chose to stand in the sun and you followed her standing right in-front of her just talking. it's a pity that from the perspective of the crew billie was a blushing tomato and it's another pity that specific moment got featured in her behind the scenes of her vogue shoot.

another video social media had a fun time speculating about.

the third time you were live in your own house in the kitchen. you were wearing something casual with a bare face talking aimlessly to your fans. billie came through the door of your room from slumber looking like the cutest koala bear still drunk from sleep. billie shuffled into the kitchen whisking you away from the camera angle by your waist for a hug and a kiss. you thought the camera did not catch anything or so you thought

the next day you find out that some fan caught a glimpse of the hand that whisked you away. the hand has tattoos that are too blurry for them to figure out so that one wasn't much of a big deal.

fourth time was so stupid really. it was coachella weekend and you went with your friends and billie with her family. in the midst of the days you and billie tried slushies at some hotel not far from the desert. billie chose blue and you chose pink thinking nothing of it you carried on with you day meaning you two totally kissed leaving your tongues purple. you two pictures of the day that soon landed on your instagram and so did billies.

once again the people notice how your tongues are purple because you both chose tongue out pictures to make the dumb. people were suspicious but you weren't seen publicly together the whole weekend so that one perished as well.

fifth time billie was being a drunk mess. she was on her australian leg of the tour way too far away from you. she missed you day and night worse when she was under the influence. so what did she do? billie wrote you an email telling you how much she misses you and how in love she is with you she's surprised she can even breath without you near all to send it to some publication company that she last emailed about her tour dates. believe it or not that email was one of the top trending news the next day.

billie was lucky she never typed out your name and she just used pet names otherwise you'd both be kind of fucked.

this was approximately the second to third year of dating. this was her longest relationship so far so she felt it was time to finally come out and say. it was your birthday so she posted some of the pics she has taken of you and with you on her instagram feed with the caption.

'' happy birthday my love you're the best thing to ever happen to me''

[ja3yun]

The Sun that Always Burns | S.JY

chapter 1: beginnings

sim jaeyun x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), multiple sex scenes, protected sex, first times, oral (m&f. rec), fingering, throat fucking, angst, fluff, arguments and reconciliation,mentions of alcohol, they are tooth-rottingly in love with one another, pet names (baby, princess), strangers to lovers, anything else lmk! w.c: 29k synopsis: the day you met sim jaeyun was the beginning of your life truly starting. you share everything together, first date, first time, first fight, first love. you couldn't be happier....for now. a/n: hi! if you have ever read tstab then this will look very different from the first time, though, the plot remains almost identical to what it was before. thank you for all the support! i promise this is the longest chapter and the others will be significalty less so i hope the 29k doesn't put you guys off! also, i will warn you now, this series does have some morally-grey choices woven in and ynjake are not saints in any way so please bare that in mind when reading the upcoming chapters! as always, comments, feedback, and reblogs are all welcome <33

masterlist | chapter 2

The first time you meet Sim Jaeyun is on the number 18 bus, headed to your first day of high school. It’s August, the sun blazing in a cloudless sky. Little did you know that the brightest light wasn’t emanating from the burning star. 

The bus is busy, students new and old gracing the seats and aisles, and a sea of navy blue and black floods your vision. Then you spot it, a tiny seat at the back gone unnoticed. As you push your way to the back of the bus ignoring the disgruntled travellers cursing under their breath at your intrusion, you take a seat and huff a breath, victory curving slightly on your lips. 

You are observant of your surroundings, it’s one of the many traits you got from your mum. Not so observant as first thought, however, as you miss the way a certain boy beside you eyes you up and down, smiling fondly as his hot gaze takes you in. As the bus pulls up to your new school, people flocked to the tall, almost rustic building. The stones are yellow ash, letters missing from the sign that sits slanted above the entrance doors, and there are cracks on the pavement from neglect. 

You begin to wonder if this is a foresight into your academic career. Out of all the schools in Seoul, why did your parents pick this one?

“I heard it’s haunted on the third floor, y’know,” a voice echoes behind you, pulling you out of your trance. Twisting your head, you come face to face with a pretty boy, and suddenly, the sun seems to get warmer. “Hi,” his hand raises slightly to give a small wave, his head tilting to accompany a Cheshire grin spread so wide you can’t help but mirror it back to him. 

"Hi," you murmur, your voice barely steady as nerves creep up on you once again, the smile that reflected his now faltering. It’s partly the boy’s disarming presence, partly the weight of his words sinking in. You glance back at the building, the air around it now eerily heavy. “Is it really haunted? Because if it is, I’m not going anywhere near it.”

He shrugs, his expression unreadable. “Rumour has it there’s a girl on the third floor in the girls’ bathroom. A fox scratched out her eyes, and no one helped her. Now she haunts the place, looking for revenge. If you see her reflection and make eye contact…” He pauses, letting the silence stretch as he leans into you. “She’ll take yours, too.”

You shudder, your stomach twisting with horror. “Nope. Nope, absolutely not.” You start to retreat to the bus stop, determined to get as far away from the school and the fox girl as possible. But before you can get too far, he stops you, his hands firm but not forceful as he turns you back to face the building. The sun beats down, and you feel its heat more intensely, though it might just be the proximity of him behind you. His chuckle, low and soft, brushes against your ears.

“If you can face this place for one day, you can handle it for the next few years. Yeah?”

You stare at the school and throw the pros and cons of his words in your hands. He’s right in some capacity; if you get through today and face your fears, perhaps then everything won’t seem so daunting. Plus, how will you ever explain to your parents that you didn’t bother going to school because of an old ledged that a stranger told you in passing? They would laugh and then drag you into the old building themselves.

With a little hesitation, you look at the boy for some reassurance - and there it is. His plump smile and warm, encouraging eyes do everything to settle the unease in your chest. He is so ethereal, with his tanned skin, thick nose, and bright eyes. You’ve never seen a boy look so…perfect. Even in a slightly creased navy polo and baggy beige trousers, he somehow looks like a teen heartthrob.

Catching yourself staring at him, you shake your head and inhale a deep breath to settle the remnants of your apprehensions. You can do this Y/N. Ghost or not. 

What you don’t realise is that the story isn’t even real. It’s something he has made up on the spot. He doesn’t know why but he just needed a reason to speak to you. There’s a glow about you, he saw it on the bus as you stared out the window in awe at the scenery. Once he clocked that you were standing transfixed with hesitation, he took his shot. 

Granted, there may have been a better way to grab your attention than telling you a story about an eye-scratching ghost, but it was the perfect excuse to get close to you. Next time, he’ll tell you a nice story about a friendly ghost in the first-floor bathroom who gifts sweeties and tampons upon arrival.

“Y/N,” you say quietly, introducing yourself and drawing him back to the present.

His eyes, warm and curious, meet yours. “Jaeyun. Or Jake, if you prefer.” He grins again, though this time a little more sheepishly, scratching his forearm. 

You finally take him in - his dark hair, slightly tousled; his thoughtful eyes; the way his lips curl into a subtle pout as the silence envelopes you both. He studies you just as intently, and for the first time, you feel truly seen.

That day, the sun wasn’t the only thing that warmed your cheeks.

As the day unfolds, you learn so much about him. He loves football with a passion that lights up his face. He’s so smart that it catches you off guard, and creative in ways that inspire you to try new things and find a light of your own. He adores his blonde loyal dog, Layla, more than anything in the world. And although he hates being scared, he can’t resist the thrill of haunted houses. 

By lunchtime, he’s your best friend, and it feels like he always has been.

The weeks that follow teach you everything else about Jaeyun. You notice how he bites his lip when he’s thinking or flustered, how his fingers habitually comb through his hair. His eyes widen with excitement and he gets a soft twinkle in them that resembles stars in the midnight sky, and even more when curiosity takes hold. When he smiles wide enough, his gums show, and it’s so unguarded, so him, that it makes your chest tighten. You notice all these little things, the details that most people might miss. 

By Christmas, he’s become your first love.

But you never tell him. Why would you? Why risk ruining something so beautiful when you’re convinced he doesn’t feel the same? For a while, you think maybe he does, that there is a spect of hope of something more than just being best friends. But then you catch him flirting with the class rep one too many times and your hope crumbles. It makes you tuck your feelings away, sharing them only with the moon as you lie awake at night, pondering what could be. 

The truth, though, is much different than you think. His playful teasing with the class rep, the touch of his hand on her arm - none of it means what you imagine. Those moments are nothing more than Jaeyun’s natural warmth, his easy way of making people feel seen and listened to.

What you fail to see is how he treats you compared to others. While you work yourself up about his passive flirting with others, you miss the way his hand lingers on your thigh as he laughs at your terrible jokes, or the way his head leans against your shoulder even when he’s wide awake, just because he wants to be as close to you as humanly possible. 

You overlook how his fingers absentmindedly stroke your hair while you’re talking to someone else, craving your presence even when he’s surrounded by a dozen others. You miss how his hugs linger just a little longer, tracing his fingers along your spine with his eyes closed like he’s memorising the feel of you until he can hold you again. And you don’t notice the mushrooms he always takes from your pizza, already knowing you hate the texture.

All these quiet, unspoken gestures of care - so clear, so telling - slip past you, just like his lingering gaze did on the first day.

_

Before you realise it, a year has flown by, and you and Jaeyun are inseparable. There isn’t a moment you’re not by his side or at least texting him, sharing every little thought and detail of your lives. You’ve never been happier. Your crush on him lingers, still strong but carefully restrained, tucked away where it can’t harm the bond you’ve built. He’s like a constrictor knot, holding you close through everything, keeping you afloat. The last thing you want is to unravel it with something as fragile and messy as unrequited love.

While you feel content, Jaeyun is quietly begrudging. Tonight, you have a date - with someone who isn’t him. It’s become a pattern since you turned sixteen. You meet someone, believe they might be the one, and when it inevitably falls apart, you cry to Jaeyun, convinced you’re unlovable. To you, it’s just teenage naivety, silly and fleeting. To him, it’s a slow ache that twists deeper each time.

There is nothing Jaeyun wants more than to treat you the way you deserve. All those boys you date don’t hold even a match to you. You shine so brightly that you might as well be a massive neon sign in the pitch darkness and they’re just soaking up your rays, dimming you as you run out of battery.

Still, Jaeyun helps you. He always does.  And tonight, he helps you pick out a dress, one that makes you look as though you’re the only girl in the world. His only girl. The pink sundress fits perfectly, flowing gently around your frame. 

Should he consider giving you terrible recommendations to make you look unappealing? Suggest wearing a pair of his sweatpants and the food stained tshirt you like to wear when you’re lazing about in his room? He would, of course he would, but the problem is you.

You look fucking beautiful in everything you wear; doesn’t matter if it’s a beautiful dress or the comfiest Sunday lounge wear, you look like an angel in it all, and unfortunately every man can see that too - even sixteen year old boys who don’t know how to handle you the way you deserve.

“Is this okay?” you ask, turning to the mirror as you scrutinizing and overanalyse your reflection. You’re not delusional - you know you’re not the prettiest girl in the world. But in moments like this, you just hope to look good enough.

Jaeyun watches you, noticing how your gaze lingers a little too long on your insecurities, the way your lips press together in doubt. It’s not the first time he’s noticed this - how the dates and rejections are wearing you down, little by little. And he hates it.

He steps closer, his presence solid behind you. “You look like a princess,” he says softly, his voice unwavering. “One any man would go to war for. Please never forget that.”

You pause, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone, and the way each word kisses your chest. The sunlight spills over you as you turn to him. “Be serious, Jake,” you scoff, a touch of irritation in your voice. “Can you just be serious for once?”

But he is serious. He’s never been more serious.

And then, like a sudden blow, it hits him - you don’t believe him. You never have.

For a year, Jaeyun has seen you, every single version of you: the confident you, the self-doubting you, the you in every shade of lipstick, every dress, every blush. He’s memorised the way you move, the way you smile, the way you try to hold yourself together even when you feel like falling apart. To him, every version of you is perfect. 

He is borderline obsessed with you and he just wishes - no, begs - you to see how breathtaking you truly are. Angels come from heaven and tour earth just to catch a glimpse of someone as ethereal as you.

“I am serious,” he says firmly, his hands finding your shoulders, holding you steady - just like he did on the first day you met. His eyes search yours in the mirror, his voice low but resolute. “You look fucking beautiful.”

But the words don’t land the way he hopes. You tut dismissively, breaking the moment. “Yeah, well, if I were, I’d have a boyfriend by now, wouldn’t I?”

The words sting, sharp and cutting. Jaeyun feels something deep and visceral rise in his chest - an urge to yell, to shake you out of this cruel narrative you’ve built for yourself. To dispel and dismantle every horrible thought you have about yourself. But before he can find the words to truly hammer his sincerity into you, your phone buzzes.

You pick it up, slipping from his grasp. His hands fall empty at his sides as he watches you, frozen in place. You glance at the screen, a small smile forming. “Mark’s here. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

You hug him quickly, a fleeting gesture that feels too light, too thin to hold him together. Then you’re gone, descending the stairs, leaving him standing there, staring at the mirror.

He doesn’t move. The sun dips lower, overtaken by thick clouds, and as the sky fades into night, Jaeyun stands in the quiet, a hollow ache spreading through him.

He wonders if maybe, just maybe, he’s not enough - not for you.

The moon rises, casting pale light over a boy who feels more like a shadow.

_____

“This is so nice,” you comment as you glace around the diner Mark has taken you to. It’s not particularly fancy or romantic - just a small local spot with red vinyl booths and flickering fluorescent lights. But it’s fine. You’re teenagers, after all. Neither of you has the budget or the means to splurge on a five-star restaurant, so this is…nice, you suppose.

But it feels even nicer because you’re sitting across from Mark Lee - the most popular boy in school. When he asked you out, it felt like the world shifted slightly on its axis. You’d barely known he was aware of your existence let alone interested in taking you out on a date. For the first time in a long time, you feel seen. Wanted, even.

Of course, you know better than to let male attention dictate your self-worth. You’ve been trying to unlearn that instinct, slowly watering the feminist flower bud that you’ve been cultivating inside your chest. But tonight, that budding awareness is eclipsed by the thrill of being here, across from Mark fucking Lee.

He leans back in the booth, one arm draped casually over the top of the seat, not giving you a second glance. “Yeah, I guess it’s alright,” he says casually, glancing at the menu like he can’t wait to get this over with. His tone isn’t exactly dismissive but it’s not enthusiastic either. You chalk it up to nerves or that he’s trying to ‘play it cool’, kind of like Danny Zuko in Grease when he doesn’t want his friends to know that he is excited to see Sandy again. 

And although you scream at Danny everytime the scene comes on, wishing Sandy took that as her warning to never speak to the loser again, you let it slide with Mark.

“I like it,” you offer again, trying to fill the silence. “It feels cozy. Like something out of an old movie, y’know those ones from the 60s?”

Mark raises an eyebrow, smirking faintly but not exactly intrigued. “You’re one of those artsy types, huh?”

The comment lands awkwardly, but you laugh anyway, brushing it off. “Maybe a little. I just think it has charm, you know?” So does Jaeyun, you think to yourself, suddenly missing his presence beside you. 

“Sure,” he says, but he’s already looking past you, his attention pulled by something - or rather someone - near the counter.

You follow his gaze, but there’s nothing remarkable in the direction he’s staring. Just a couple of kids from school picking up takeout. One of them is Sojung, the girl every man wants to date and all the girls want to look like. It’s almost laughable how much this entire scenario feels like a stereotypical American high school movie. 

As Sojung waves to your date, a faint unease settles in your chest, but you push it aside.

The waitress arrives, setting down two glasses of water and taking your orders. Mark orders a burger and fries without looking up from his phone, and when it’s your turn, interjects, saying you’ll have the same, not letting you speak for yourself. 

You hate burgers, they’re gross and you’re borderline vegetarian, but he doesn’t know that. In fact, he hasn’t even asked you one thing since you’ve sat down. He doesn’t know you and you would think if you’re on a date, now would be the perfect time for him to question you about your likes and dislikes? Fuck, even if he asked you your favourite colour right now it would at least be something.

“So,” you begin, trying to stir up a semblance of conversation, “how’s soccer going? I heard you scored the winning goal last week.”

He grins, finally looking at you. “Yeah, that was fucking sick. Everyone went crazy, obviously. Coach even said it was one of the best plays he’s seen.” His tone is smug, pride and arrogance beaming over his face.

“That’s amazing!” you exclaim, genuinely impressed. Jaeyun plays football too but he’s defensive midfielder so he doesn’t get many opportunities to play a goal. Mark being the striker means he gets seen as the star player even though sometimes you do think Jaeyun is slightly better. “You must’ve been on top of the world, huh?”

“I mean, yeah,” he says, shrugging nonchalantly, going back to his previous lounge position, conversation inconvenient to him once again. “But, like, it’s not a surprise, y’know? When you’re good at something, people expect you to deliver. And I always deliver.”

You nod, unsure how to respond. His confidence borders on arrogance, but you tell yourself it’s part of his charm. After all, confidence is attractive, right? Jaeyun is confident, and he’s hot…so, so hot-

Before your brain goes down a dangerous path, the food arrives. The chips are perfectly crispy and you nibble at them slowly, hoping he wont notice that you’re not even entertaining the stacked burger. You wonder if you can box it up for Jaeyun.

For a while, the conversation flows a little more easily. Mark talks about soccer, his plans for college, and his favourite music. You listen intently, asking questions and laughing at his jokes, even when they’re not particularly funny or slightly rude.

But as the night wears on, cracks begin to show, suddenly finding it more difficult to see the good in him and the evening.

When you mention a book you’ve been reading, his eyes glaze over, almost rolling. “Not really my thing,” he says dismissively, cutting you off mid-sentence. You didn’t even got the author’s name out of your mouth. He doesn’t care. If it’s not about him, he could not be less bothered in paying attention.

But again, foolishly, you try to get him talking and make this dress worth it. You ask about his family, trying to get to know the man a little deeper. Yet, he shrugs. “They’re fine, I guess. Nothing exciting.”

Still nothing. Who doesn’t like to talk about their family? Good or bad.

You try to keep the conversation light, but his responses grow shorter, his attention drifting to literally anywhere but you. He checks his phone a few times, typing out quick replies to someone from under the table. You wonder who he’s texting but don’t dare ask, not wishing to upset him when it seems you’re already hanging onto him by a thread.

By the time the waitress brings the check, which you split, you’re doing most of the heavy lifting in the conversation, trying to keep things pleasant. You tell yourself he’s just tired or distracted, that he’s not really this disinterested. You’re delusioning yourself because how many dates do you have to go on before anyone actually gives a single fuck about you or wants to be here with you.

You don’t understand how these boys can ask to date you, then be so cold and distant when you agree. Granted, you aren’t exactly picking them well. They started off as dating anyone to distract you from your feelings towards your best friend, but now you’ve been more selective, and Mark was one boy you really wanted to have a connection with.

He’s funny and charming in school, kind and generous to teachers and those in the years below him. Of course, that’s why he is popular. But this boy in front of you is not the Mark you thought you knew. Even Jaeyun says nice things about him, being on the same team and all.

“Thanks for dinner,” you say as you step out of the diner, the cool evening air brushing against your warm skin. 

“No problem,” he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks at you a little more intently than any other time this evening. “So, what now?”

The question hangs in the air, loaded with implications. You glance at him, unsure of what he means. You for sure thought that he was going to drive you home and that would be the end of it. He obviously isn’t interested, so why would he wish to continue the night?

“I don’t know,” you say cautiously. “I should probably head home. It’s getting late.” It’s the politest way to tell him that you don’t want to have to keep conversations going that are drier than the dessert during a wind storm.

Mark smirks, stepping closer. “Or…”, he places a hand on your waist as he steps closer, his presence now overwhelming all of your senses, and not in the nice way that Jaeyun’s were earlier. “We could hang out somewhere more private.”

Your stomach twists uncomfortably, stomach dropping as his face inches towards yours. “Private?” you echo, trying to keep your tone light, feigning ignorance.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice low, dangerous. “My place is empty tonight. We could…you know, have some fun.” Marks eyebrows wiggle and you feel a dizzy. 

You’re heart and mind is screaming for Jaeyun.

The meaning is clear and it sends a jolt of panic through you. You’re not naive - you knew this was a possibility, but hearing him say it so casually feels jarring. It’s not like you gave him any hints that you’re down to fuck on a first date. You’ve never even fucked anyone at all, so the last thing you want is to lose it to a man who barely remembers your name.

“Mark, I don’t think-”

“Come on, lovely,” he interrupts, his tone shifting to something a little more foreceful. “It’s not a big deal. We’re both here, we’re both into each other, right?”

No. I’m not. We are not.

You take a step back, your heart pounding. “I just…I’m not ready for that, y’know? I don’t…do that.”

He exhales sharply, his smile faltering and shoulders tensing as he begins to feel the rejection wash over his body. Clearly, he’s not used to such a thing. “Seriously? You’re not one of those girls, are you? Haven’t you been on like a million and one dates?” His words spit across your cheek like you’ve just been slapped. “Not one of those guys has managed ti hit it?”

The question rocks you and for a moment, you’re too stunned to respond. Is that why he asked you out? Just for a quick fuck? This happened once before, with a guy from band but at least he made his intentions clear as soon as the date started and he left you alone once he knew you weren’t going to lay on his navy sheets.

“I think I should go,” you say finally, your voice shaking as you step back from him. 

Mark rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath as he follows your steps. “You’re for real a fucking virgin? You’re not playing?” You don’t know why he doesn’t believe you and it makes you wonder about the rumours echoing in the hallways of your school. “So I just wasted my fucking time?”

It’s poetically ironic how he is finally asking you questions about yourself. But this isn’t exactly what you wanted. This is belittling, as if being a virgin is anything to be ashamed of. You don’t really care about your virginity, you just want to have sex with someone who loves you, or at least could give a single fuck about your existance. Clealry, two things he doesn’t possess in his heart for you.

He doesn’t wait for a response, turning and walking off without a backward glance. “Whatever, man. Don’t fucking lead guys on like that.” He laughs bitterly before getting into his car and driving off without you, leaving you stranded and hurt. 

You stand there for a moment, the night pressing in around you. A cold, hollow ache has replaced the warmth and excitement you felt earlier. Is this all you’re worth?

As you make your way home, you replay the evening in your mind, trying to find something good to hold onto. But it’s hard. Mark wasn’t who you thought he was, and you can’t help but feel foolish for ever thinking otherwise. Part of you wonders if you should have just given in, went to his place and fucked him to get all of this over with. 

But that’s not you and that is not how you should think. You are not defined by your sexual experience and Mark should see the person you are past your body and what it can offer him. You are a real person who wanted to get to know him, understand him and if all went well, get into a relationship with him.

Since when was that so wrong?

Your mind turns and twists with thoughts, a mixture of relief and sadness swirling your insides as you begin the long walk home, desperate to see the one boy who can make this all better.

_____

It’s 9pm now and Jaeyun hasn’t heard a word from you. Not a text to say it’s going well or one to say you’re home. He begins to imagine the worst; kidnapping, death, falling down a ditch, a Scooby-Doo villain coming to snatch you from Mark’s arms. His worries are not unprecedented - you’re always back by 8 pm latest, knowing that your family don’t like you out late. So he texts you, trying to come across as casual and not like a possessive best friend who jumped to worst-case scenarios.

Jaeyun: Y/N, are you okay? Did everything go well? Text me when you can

An incoming call flashes on his phone almost immediately after he presses sends. Princess. You don’t know that’s your name on his phone, but for some reason having just your name feels insincere and distant. Jaeyun doesn’t like that feeling, plus, it gives him a second of delusion.

He clicks the answer button and is immediately met with your shaky voice, the effects of being out of breath and stranded in the cold.

“Jaeyun?” you ask as if you didn’t hit the call button yourself. You were in the middle of writing a message when he sent one instead. 

Jaeyun’s heart sinks at the sound of your voice. Shaky, uncertain, and laced with something he can’t quite place - fear? Sadness? Either way, it’s not good, and his grip on the phone tightens as he sits up in his bed, alert and alarmed. 

“Y/N? What’s wrong? Where are you?” His words come out rushed, his mind racing as he hears the faint rustles of cars and the wind crackle through your receiver. It means you aren’t home and are in high chance of being in danger. Maybe he was right to worry after all.

There’s a pause on your end, long enough to make his chest tighten. Then, you exhale shakily. “I…I’m fine,” you start, but the tremor in your voice betrays you. “I’m just…not where I want to be right now.” You want to be beside him.

He glances at the clock. 9:03pm and his knee begins to bounce with restless energy as he tries to piece together what’s happening. “Are you still with Mark?”

“No,” you say quickly, almost too quickly. “I- He left a while ago.” Another pause, and then a bitter laugh escapes you. “He ditched me after possibly one of the worst dates of my life.”

Jaeyun’s chest floods with relief at the fact Mark is away from you. Although you’re alone and that sets unease into the pit of his stomach, there’s reassurance with the fact that you’re not with the striker. Mark is a nice guy - as far as Jaeyun knows - but that doesn’t mean he isn’t still cautious about the boy. He is still a man after all.

“Are you walking? Y/N, it’s late, and it’s fucking freezing. Why didn’t you call me sooner?” Jaeyun immediately stands to attention and grabs his jacket, already anticipating that he will be running to wherever you are.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you admit softly, and the words hit him harder than he expects. 

“Bother me?” he echoes, already grabbing his keys and slipping on his shoes. “Y/N, you could never bother me. Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”

“Jaeyun, you don’t have to-”

“Don’t argue,” he cuts you off firmly, his voice leaving no room for debate. “Just stay put, okay? I’ll be there in ten minutes. Send me your location, yeah?”

You don’t reply, but the faint sound of your sniffle on the other end makes his chest ache. “Okay,” you finally whisper, and he can hear the gratitude in your voice. You really didn’t want to disturb him, but if you can’t turn to him, who can you run to? 

It’s selfish, but you need him.

He hangs up, shoving his phone into his pocket and bolting out the door. The cold night air hits him and it only enrages him more; how could Mark leave you like this? Shaking the thoughts away, he focuses his mind on what matters right now. You. Finding you and making sure you’re okay. He can deal with Mark another day.

And trust that he will.

—

The sharpness of the wind cuts through your thin jacket as you drag your feet along the pavement, your arms tightly crossed over your chest. Anger and sadness bubble and twirl inside of you, fueling your steps and helping to keep the cold at bay. Adrenaline acts as an electric blanket under your skin and for the first time in your life, you’re thankful that your body gets overly attached to your emotions.

Then you hear it.

“Y/N!”

That familiar, sweet Australian accent drifts through the night as it dances past the whistle of the wind, laced with a mix of relief and frustration. You glance up to see Jaeyun running toward you, his breath visible in the frosty air. There’s a small smile on his face, but you can see right through it, of course you can; you’ve known him long enough to recognise the worry etched into his features, the simmering anger in his eyes.

Your legs instinctively quicken and as he gets closer, you feel the tension in your body begin to dissolve. By the time you meet him halfway, your arms are already reaching for him, and he’s there - steady, warm, and exactly what you need.

Jaeyun wraps his arms around you without hesitation, pulling you close. His hoodie smells faintly of laundry detergent and that musk that is so distinctly him. His embrace is firm, possessive, and impossibly comforting. The heat of his body seeps into you, melting the ice that had taken root in your chest.

“What the fuck were you thinking walking out here alone?” he murmurs, his voice gentle but laced with exasperation. His hands rub up and down your back, trying to chase away the cold. “It’s freezing, Y/N. And dark, you don’t know who is lurking in the shadows.”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” you admit, your voice muffled against his chest. “I couldn’t stay there and I didn’t want to have you catch a bus all the way into the main city.”

Jaeyun’s arms tighten around you, and he lets out a soft sigh. “You should’ve called me. I would have gotten a taxi and come to pick you up or got Jay to drive me. He’s got his permit now.”

You simply look down, ashamed that he even had to come to your rescue in the first place. You would say you’re quite independent, so to rely on him so much feels shameful all of a sudden. It’s different when it’s a slight inconvenience, you don’t mind pestering him to come help you with homework or to go shopping with you. But this is pulling him out to come save you. That’s embarrassing…Perhaps you shouldn’t have called.

But you need him. Only him. 

Jaeyun studies you for a moment, his eyes softening as he takes in your flushed cheeks and trembling frame, the cogs in your mind working overtime with little payoff. “Here,” he says, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders. The warmth is immediate, and the scent of him envelops you completely. “Better?”

You nod again, clutching the fabric tightly around you. “Yeah,” you bite your lip, the burning in the back of your throat raw and overwhelming. 

He tilts his head toward the direction of your house, noting how you’re two seconds away from bursting into hysterical tears. “Come on, let’s get you home, Y/N. Your mum’s probably worried.”

Nodding, you let him take your hand as you fall into step beside him, the sound of your footsteps filling the quiet night. Even this simple touch instils some peace into your overworked body. You still can’t get over Mark and his comments, his expectations of you to just drop your pants and let him…

“I thought he liked me,” you say softly, your voice tinged with bitterness and hurt. 

Jaeyun’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he lets out a slow breath before speaking, making sure he doesn’t say something he regrets. “I’m sorry, Y/N. Really. I know how excited you were about tonight. But just think about the bullet you dodged, yeah?”

You stare down at the pavement, his words sinking in. “I just…I thought he was different,” you admit, your breath fogging up in the cold air. “But he wasn’t even listening to me. And then he…” You trail off, not wanting to say the rest out loud.

Your trail off causes Jaeyun to pause his steps, his hand squeezing yours tightly to halt your own feet. “What do you mean? What the fuck did he do?” Jaeyun doesn’t get angry. The only instance you’ve ever seen him get mad was on the pitch after he received a red card and got subbed. 

But this is also a different kind of rage, it’s more abrupt and sudden. His eyes search yours to make sure anything you tell him in the next few minutes isn’t a lie to protect Mark or downplay anything that happened tonight. 

Seeing his rage begin to build, you shake your head vigorously. “No! No, no, nothing like that I promise,” you bite your lips together. “He wanted to, but I told him no.”

“What a fucking cu-”

“Jaeyun, it’s okay. He didn’t force anything but he was pretty pissed,” you further explain, hoping the heaving in his chest subsides. Jaeyun isn’t violent but you can see a lust for blood as his mind spirals.

“I should kill him,” he begins, stepping closer to you. “You deserve way better than that. So much fucking better, Y/N.”

A bitter laugh escapes you, sharp and self-deprecating. It feels like every ounce of doubt you’ve tried to bury is clawing its way out. “Maybe I don’t. Maybe I’m just not-”

“Don’t.” His voice cuts through your words with a finality that makes you stop. The intensity in his gaze is unyielding as he reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers with his, as if tethering you to the truth he wants you to believe. “Don’t say that. You’re amazing, Y/N. And if some guy can’t see that, then that’s his loss. Not yours. Who gives a fuck if it’s Mark Lee or Mark Henry?”

The unexpected humour in his words pulls a reluctant laugh from you, easing some of the tension knotting your chest. He always seems to know just the right thing to say. You envy him for that, and adore him all the same.

“You deserve someone who wants to be with you with zero expectations,” he continues, his voice soft but firm, willing you to understand his point of view. “Got it?”

You manage a faint smile, but the weight of his words settles heavily in your throat, forming a lump you can’t quite swallow. He means every syllable - you can hear it in his voice, see it in the conviction in his eyes. Yet, no matter how much you want to believe him, these part few months of disappointment and hurt have left you too bruised to take it to heart. His words sound like a lie whispered into the wind. 

“Why can’t I just find someone to love me?” you murmur, the vulnerability in your voice surprising even yourself.

At that, Jaeyun’s hand loosens from yours, the reassuring warmth slipping away. His entire demeanour shifts, and when you glance up at him, his eyes are no longer fierce with determination. Instead, they glaze over with something raw and unspoken, a sheen of unshed tears.

“Jaeyun…what’s wrong?” you ask, your voice tentative as you try to piece together what’s happening. He doesn’t usually switch emotions so easily, so randomly. Honestly, you were expecting him to tell you to shut up and behave yourself, the way he sometimes does dismissively to stop you talking about being unlikable. He doesn’t wave it off cruelly, but rather because he knows you’ll just overthink and get even more upset.

Little do you know he just does it to protect himself. The thought of you with anyone else enough to spiral him into despair for at least two days.

He exhales shakily as the weigh of his feelings becomes too difficult to shoulder. “Am I not enough?” he whispers, his voice barely audible, carried to your ears only by the breath of the night air. The desperation in his tone sends a jolt through you, leaving you momentarily speechless.

“What…?” you begin, confused, the pieces of the puzzle slipping through your fingers.

“Why is it never me you choose?” he continues, his voice cracking under the weight of his confession. “Why is it always everyone and anyone else? Why can’t it ever just fucking be me?”

His jaw clenches as a single tear escapes, tracing a glistening path down his cheek. It’s a rare sight, his sadness, usually so determined to bottle it all away and deal with the consequences once it gets too much. And that seems to be tonight. They’re spilling over, months of buried feelings breaking free. He doesn’t mean for the words to sound bitter, but they do, tinged with exhaustion and a quiet plea for understanding.

You’re stunned, stuck to the spot as his confession echoes through you. It’s as though the air has been sucked from your lungs, leaving you grasping for clarity amidst the absolute carnage of your mind. He inhales deeply, trying to steady himself yet the silence that stretches between you is deafening, making him that much more self-conscious.

You know you need to respond, to say something, but the words catch in your throat, refusing to come. 

Jaeyun mistakes your silence for rejection. His shoulders slump further, and he looks away, his gaze falling to the ground. “I…I shouldn’t have said anything. I…” His voice trails off, broken, as he takes a step back.

“Jaeyun,” you manage as your voice comes out as a whisper. He doesn’t look at you, already gearing himself to lose you forever. After all, how many times does this happen? The guy ruins a friendship with a girl because they’re unable to just keep things platonic. It’s not like he wanted to develop these feelings, but you’re his true love and he knows it deep down, that’s why this hurts so much.

He would rather have you in his life as a friend than not at all, and he might have just royally fucked that up.

“Jaeyun, please. Look at me.” When he doesn’t respond, you step closer, your voice firmer this time. “What are you saying?” When he finally glances up, the anguish in his eyes steals your breath. 

It’s not or never, Jake. Might as well go all in, he encourages himself despite his doubts.

“You give everyone else your time, your attention. You put on those cute dresses for guys who don’t even deserve to look at you. I’m not saying I even deserve the honour of looking at you, but…” His voice falters as he struggles to find the right words. Then, with a renewed intensity, he meets your gaze. “Can’t I at least get a chance to prove that might?”

There’s a quiet longing in his expression, an innocent yearning for something real and pure. The sight of his tears, the jagged edge to his breathing, the raw vulnerability he’s showing you now - it’s overwhelming for both of you. Your heart aches for him, for the boy who’s always been there, quietly waiting for something you never realised was possible.

Jaeyun likes you.

Without hesitation, your hands reach for him, cupping his face gently. You wipe the stray tears from his cheeks, the warmth of his anguish a contrast to the cold breeze that washes over you both.

“Sim Jaeyun,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you pluck the courage to tell him your feelings. It’s only right to lay yourself bare just as he has. “You are everything I have ever wanted.”

The truth spills from your lips like a revelation, as clear and beautiful as the moonlight bathing the two of you in light. You’ve never told him why those dates never worked out. Mark may have been a particular kind of awful, but the others? The others failed simply because they weren’t him. They weren’t Jaeyun. With every small gesture he made, every thoughtful word he spoke, he set a standard no one else could meet. And you compared them all to him, unknowingly sabotaging every potential chance of getting a boyfriend because they fell short of the boy standing before you now. 

“I didn’t think I was an option for you,” you admit, your voice cracking slightly under the weight of your honest emotions. “So I kept looking for someone who wanted me back. But none of them were you.” The last words are barely audible, but the quiet of the night amplifies them like a shout.

Jaeyun’s breath catches, and he feels the tightness in his chest ease for the first time in what feels like forever. He can’t speak, doesn’t trust himself to find the right words, so instead, he pulls you into his arms. His chin rests on your shoulder, one hand gripping your waist while the other finds its way into your hair, holding you close. Disbelief and shock course through his veins at your confession, so he clings to you tighter, scared that he might wake up.

Because in what world does Y/N L/N like him back? Since when? How? Why?

“You’re so stupid,” he mutters, his voice muffled against your shoulder. The words make him wince as soon as they’re out but you thankfully laugh softly, not taking them too harshly to heart. When he pulls back, his hand moves to your cheek, thumb brushing gently across your skin as he searches your eyes for something - permission, perhaps, or reassurance.

And then you kiss him, giving him everything he could want within this moment.

It’s soft and a little apprehensive, your lips barely moving against his. But it’s enough. Enough to convey your deep thoughts, enough to make the world fade away until it’s just the two of you. The air around you feels warmer as if the moon has been replaced with the blazing sun.

The kiss is so sweet and innocent, your mouths telling each other all the times you missed out on confessing, each time that the words of your feelings reached the tip of your tongues. You slowly lick his bottom lip and he groans, finally snapping out of his trance and pulling you impossibly closer by your waist as his tongue caresses yours.

From the very moment your lips meld with his, Jaeyun shares every first with you. 

—

The next day carries a completely different energy, a newness in the air that’s almost tangible. Everything feels brighter, saturation turned up 100%, as if hope has stitched itself into the fabric of your life. It could be the overwhelming joy of finally being with Jaeyun after all this time. It feels surreal like a fever dream you’re afraid to wake from, having lived so long in the liminal space between delusion and denial.

But Sim Jaeyun is yours - officially yours. You wonder if you’ve ever jacked off a leprechaun in a past life with how impossibly lucky you’ve gotten.

Walking into school together that morning, you hold his hand. Jaeyun has taken your hand plenty of times before, but this is different. This time, his fingers weave through yours with quiet confidence, declaring to the world that you are his. His love. It sends a thrill through you, enough to plant a shit-eating grin on your face so wide it feels permanent, as if even the toughest mix of Pink Stuff and a Scrub Daddy couldn’t remove it.

At first, no one notices the shift in your relationship; you’ve always been inseparable and clingy. But when Jaeyun kisses you so tenderly outside your first period maths class, it catches people’s attention. Whispers ripple through the hallways: "Finally" and "Weren’t they already dating?" follow you both throughout the day. Jaeyun doesn’t seem to care. In fact, he takes every opportunity to kiss you - soft, fleeting pecks on your cheeks, your forehead, your lips, anywhere that he can land his mouth on you, trying to make up for all the times he wanted to but didn’t.

All those sleepovers when he stayed awake, watching you sleep peacefully beside him - he didn’t kiss you. The times you edged closer to him at the cinema during scary or tense moments - he didn’t kiss you. Even at family gatherings, when it was just the two of you swaying on the dance floor as your drunk aunts and his uncles disappeared into the night - he held back. Now, though, he doesn’t have to. And he won’t let his lips forget the feeling of yours.

“Go on a date with me,” Jaeyun says suddenly, his tone leaving no room for refusal.

Pausing outside of your physics class - his favourite subject but arguably your least - you look up at him, curiosity tilting your head. “A date?” Your fingers remain interlocked with his, and you begin to swing them gently back and forth. Your heart flutters at the idea of a date with Jaeyun, one where you don’t feel the pressure to impress because he already adores you just as you are. He’s made that abundantly clear. “When?”

“Tomorrow. There’s an outdoor cinema that just opened, and they’re showing ‘Labyrinth.’” His eyes sparkle knowingly as he mentions your favourite film. “I already bought the tickets, so you have no choice but to come with me.” He seals the deal with a kiss on your forehead.

While the gesture makes you smile, your brow furrows. “But you hate ‘Labyrinth.’ You said it’s too weird that David Bowie is trying to seduce a teenager.”

The first time you showed him the 1986 classic, he had been eager to dive into your favourite fantasy world. However, that enthusiasm evaporated quickly, replaced by incredulity at the abundance of crotch-shots and bizarre farting bog. Suffice to say, he didn’t share your affection for it.

“True,” he admits, his lips curling into a sly smile, “but it’s your favourite movie. And as your boyfriend, I think I can look past the unnecessary bulges and questionable age gaps for you.”

Your head tilts in amused disbelief. “You know they don’t actually date, right? He’s just infatuated with her innocence.” You pause, and then it hits you. “Oh...okay, now I see what you mean.”

He laughs at your realisation, the sound bright and unguarded - the kind of laugh that makes you feel like you’re flying.

“Well,” he says, his voice softer now, “this time, you can watch it with fresh eyes.” He kisses you again, his lips lingering against yours as he whispers, “So, come with me?”

It doesn’t take you a second before you nod, pecking his lips in return as a definite sign of agreeance. “You’ve ruined my favourite movie for me, but since it’s you, I’ll allow it.”

“Good. The tickets are nonrefundable.” He pulls you into his arms, laughing as your head rests against his chest. You feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, fast but comforting. The same heart that holds a space for you inside of it.

This - this is what you love. How nothing between you has really changed. Emotions have simply heightened, blossoming into something more profound. Jaeyun is still Jaeyun, but now he’s yours. The shackles of both of you keeping your feelings buried held you back from all of this love, all this time you could have just been with one another unapologetically. No guilt about feelings or potentially ruining your friendship, now it’s freedom. 

“I’ve got practice,” he says, pulling back slightly to look at you, warmth blushes over his cheeks as he sees the adoration for him in your pupils. “I’ll text you when it’s over and we can walk home.” He kisses you for the nth time, his gaze lingering. “Don’t miss me too much, baby.”

The unexpected pet name turns your cheeks crimson, and you swat his chest playfully, still not sure how to handle the giddiness in your chest every time he does something slightly romantic. “I think it’s more likely you’ll be the one missing me.”

“I always do,” he replies without hesitation, his voice rich with sincerity. 

_____

As the day of your first date approaches, anticipation bubbles in your stomach. Thirty minutes - just thirty minutes stand between you and an entirely new chapter with Jaeyun. Your nerves tangle as you try to steady your breathing, your mind racing. You’ve been on dates before, but there was always the comfort of reminding yourself, At least it’s not Jaeyun.

But now it is Jaeyun. And that changes everything.

The sundress you spent hours picking out suddenly feels wrong. What if he doesn’t like it? What if you look frumpy when you sit down? The issue with going on a date with Jaeyun and not some random boy is that you can’t ask his opinion on your outfit. He always helped you out and now when it matters most, you need to decide for yourself and trust yourself. Not very fair.

You stand in front of the mirror, scrutinising every possible angle he could see you from, tugging at the hem, twisting this way and that to see which lines and folds are more prominent than others. Jaeyun has seen you in every state - from sleep-deprived to sick - and he’s never batted an eye. It couldn’t be worse than that, right? But somehow, those thoughts don’t ease your anxiety. 

Just as the golden sun begins to flood through your window, a firm knock echoes from the front door. You cast one last glance over yourself in the mirror, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles before a final spritz of perfume. Jaeyun’s favourite is something light and citrus, he says it makes everything feel effortless, and that’s exactly what you need this first date to be. 

Another knock follows, this time a little sharper. You dart down the stairs, your heart pounding, and open the door in a hurry. “Sorry, I was just finishing getting ready,” you say, the words spilling out before the door is even fully open.

Jaeyun’s breath catches. He stands there, rendered speechless, his eyes sweeping over you in quiet awe. The sundress - a blue as soft and endless as the June sky - drapes over you perfectly, your hair cascading past your shoulders, held back by two delicate white bows. He’s grown used to tucking the strands they held behind your ear, knowing how much they annoy you. But now that excuse to touch you has vanished. Then again, he doesn’t need an excuse anymore, not now that you’re his. 

His gaze lingers on your neck, catching the faint shimmer of your perfume’s dewy mist, and suddenly he feels absurdly underdressed in his beige trousers, white top, and denim vest. The outfit that had seemed so effortlessly cool this morning now feels naively foolish.

You shift nervously under his gaze, mistaking his silence for something else entirely. Is he trying to think of a compliment because he hates it? The thought ties a knot in your stomach. Is he disappointed? 

You’re both stupid. Stupidly in love as you overthink.

“You look,” he finally begins, his voice softer than usual as he tries to collect himself, his accent thick and heavy, “you look like you’re the muse for the stars.” He pauses, his words feeling inadequate for the way you’ve left him feeling. It isn’t everything he wants to say, but it’s all he can manage. He wants to write you Shakespeare-level sonnets, to tell you everything you have ever needed and wanted to hear but he’s fumbling hard as he watches you nervously shift your feet and bite your lip. 

A flush warms your cheeks, and a flutter runs up your spine. You glance at him, expecting him to meet your gaze, but his eyes are busy drinking in every detail. There’s a strange intensity on his face - something you’ve seen in films but never truly believed you’d experience in real life.

“Thank you, Jaeyun,” you murmur, your voice catching slightly as you reach for your jacket hanging on the wooden rack. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah.” The word escapes him in a whisper, carried on a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, though he avoids direct eye contact. It’s as if he’s afraid meeting your gaze will betray all the things he’s too scared to say. He watches you shrug on your white jacket, slightly creased but perfect to him all the same. That jacket - he’s always loved it on you. Then again, there isn’t anything he doesn’t love on you. You could wear a burlap sack, and he’d still think you were the most beautiful girl to grace the earth.

—

The walk to the outdoor movie theatre is filled with random snippets of conversation, the kind you’d expect from two people who have been friends for years yet feel the exhilarating newness of calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend. Still, Jaeyun never quite meets your eyes. His gaze flickers to your profile when he thinks you’re not looking, admiring the way the evening sunlight dances off your hair or the soft curve of your smile when you laugh at one of his god-awful jokes.

His thoughts are a mess. She’s too beautiful. Is this real? Am I staring too much? And every time the wind catches your hair and brushes it behind your ear, his lungs forget that they have an important job to do, and he has to force himself to refocus on not tripping over his own feet.

“You’re quiet tonight,” you tease as you nudge his arm. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Jaeyun’s ears burn at the passing compliment - secretly enjoying being called pretty more than hot or handsome - and he quickly shakes his head, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “Nothing,” he lies, but his grin betrays him. It’s embarrassing enough that you’ve caught him acting weird, never mind him spilling his guts out and telling the reason for his awkward chuckles and lack of eye contact is because you’re too beautiful that his brain short-circuits.

“Liar,” you quip, giggling softly but letting him keep his secrets. 

Before either of you realise, you’ve arrived at the outdoor theatre. Fairy lights are strung around the area, draping the venue in a warm, golden glow as the sun begins its descent. A soft murmur of chatter fills the air, mingling with the faint scent of popcorn and freshly cut grass. Jaeyun hands the tickets to the attendant, and you both scan the crowd for a spot.

It’s busier than he thought it would be; people must really like hobgoblins and nonces.

“Over there,” you say excitedly, pointing to a small patch on the left. It’s snug and as private as an outdoor venue can be. A tree curves over the spot, creating a romantic setting as the leaves blossom and some fall around you.

Jaeyun pulls a blanket out of his bag as well as a packet of strawberry laces - your favourite. The sight of them, along with some other of your desired snacks, makes your heart swell. “Thanks, Jaeyun,” you say softly, settling into a comfortable position and draping the blanket over your legs.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles, placing the sweets between you two. As he rifles through his bag for the drinks, you catch yourself staring at him. The soft denim vest he’s wearing accentuates his broad shoulders, and the way his jaw flexes, while he concentrates, sends your heart into a free fall.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you murmur, your voice almost shy.

Jaeyun quickly glances at you, his smile soft. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, just say the word,” he replies, his tone casual but the sincerity in his words is undeniable. He has such a beautiful way of making you feel like loving you is effortless. Even as your best friend, his love for you was second nature.

You never thank him enough for that.

The movie begins just as the sun dips below the horizon, casting the theatre in red twilight. You shift closer to him, your knees brushing his thigh as the blanket falls. Without thinking, Jaeyun places his hand on your knee, his thumb grazing under fabric of your dress. The contact sends a jolt through you, and your breath hitches, though he doesn’t seem to notice.

It’s an innocent gesture, one that he isn’t a stranger to. But this is a little different; now you can really take notice of each touch he gives you, no longer having to bottle up how it makes you feel to have his skin on yours.

As you try to focus on the film, your eyes flicker downward to his arm and fuck was it a bad decision. The veins in his forearm protrude, dancing with the subtle flex of his fingers against your knee. It makes your stomach knot in ways that have nothing to do with nerves. You swallow hard, but your mouth feels dry - all the moisture from your tongue now dripped down to your heat.

You have never been so horny in your life.

Jaeyun notices you shift beside him and leans in to whisper, concern evident in his voice. “You okay, Y/N?” 

You nod quickly, your cheeks burning as you force yourself to look at the screen. But now, all you can notice is Jareth’s outfit - and more specifically, the…prominent tent of his trousers.

Was it always that in-your-face? you wonder, squirming slightly.

Jaeyun’s voice cuts through your spiralling thoughts as he nudges your shoulder. “You think I could pull off that outfit?” he asks, pointing to the screen with a smirk. He can sense something wrong with you - what that is, he doesn’t quite know - but the one thing that always dissipates any unease within you is humour.

Normally, you’d laugh and fire back a sarcastic remark, but the thought of him in those trousers, of what they’d accentuate, well that makes heat flood your face and panties stick to you. 

It’s not that you’ve never thought about Jaeyun sexually, of course, you have. You’re a girl at the end of the day and your hormones are all over the place, sad, horny, excited, depressed, hyper, you experience all the emotions mountains high. And as much as you’re telling yourself not to get too carried away - after all, he just became your boyfriend yesterday - your mind has other plans. It’s been waiting for him, your body has been craving him as it tries to work out how to control the lust you’ve decided to develop.

You manage a weak chuckle, hoping the inner turmoil your facing doesn’t show on your face. But your lack of response doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Babe, are you sure you’re okay? You look a little pale,” he says, his brow furrowing as his hand slides up your thigh.

The sudden pressure is too much, his fingerprints kissing your sensitive skin. So you do what any girl would do; you jolt upright, nearly knocking over the strawberry laces in your haste and avoid the situation altogether. 

“I-I’m going to get a drink. Do you want one?” you stammer, not waiting for his response before grabbing your bag and practically bolting to the concession stand.

Jaeyun watches you go, confusion etched right across his face. What the fuck was that? As he replays every single second from the past few moments. You sat down, grabbed the blanket, and watched the movie. He noticed you were a little off and trailed his hand up your thigh-

His eyes widen in horror. Oh no. No, no, no. I crossed a line, didn’t I? I made her uncomfortable. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He buries his face in his hands, groaning quietly. After what happened with Mark a few days ago, after explaining how you deserve someone with no expectations of you to give anything like that in return, he goes and makes you uncomfortable. 

He didn’t even mean it like that, but how else are you meant to take his groping of your thigh if not hormonal horn?

Meanwhile, you’re dealing with your own panic as you stand at the brightly lit stand, trying to cool down. What is wrong with me? you think, tapping your card against the reader as you order two drinks - grape for him and strawberry for yourself. 

This is Jaeyun. My boyfriend. My best friend. The person I’ve known for years and yet, somehow, tonight feels different. It’s as though every wall that’s ever been between us has crumbled, leaving nothing but raw vulnerability and an unbearable awareness of him.

Why are you suddenly just so…aware of him? The way his shirt clings to his chest, the slope of his jaw as it tenses when he laughs, and the way his hair falls just slightly into his eyes, make you want to reach up and push it back. Maybe this is why people say bottling things up only makes them spill over. Because once the cap comes off, it’s impossible to stop the flood.

And right now years of want and need are flooding. Overflowing.

When you return from the stand, two drinks in hand, Jaeyun’s waiting, his leg bouncing slightly as though he’s nervous. The moment you hand him his grapeade, his fingers brush yours, and he mutters a soft, “Thanks, Y/N.” His smile is polite but stiff, and he shifts slightly, leaving a noticeable gap between you on the blanket. The movement is subtle, but it feels like a canyon has opened between you. Your stomach twists uncomfortably.

He thinks I’m uncomfortable. The realisation hits like a punch. He thinks he did something wrong, and now you’ve ruined the date.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He’s focused on the screen, but his posture is rigid, his hands clasped tightly around the bottle. He looks like he’s trying too hard to blend in, to take up less space, and it makes your heart ache. You know he’s overthinking, blaming himself for a moment you caused by being incapable of keeping your thoughts - indecent and overwhelming as they are - under control.

Perhaps if you were a little more confident, you could play it off. Flirt back. Create some playful tension. Isn’t that what people do on dates? But instead, you’re stuck in your head, wrestling with your own feelings and second-guessing every move.

The rest of the movie passes in silence, save for the blare of the soundtrack and the occasional rustle of Jaeyun reaching for snacks. You try to focus on the film, humming along softly to familiar songs, but your thoughts are louder than the speakers. You can feel his glances, those fleeting looks that linger for a second too long before darting away, and they remind you so much of the way you used to look at him before you were together. The way you’d steal glimpses, full of longing, wondering if he’d ever see you the same way.

Now, it feels like you’re back there again, standing on opposite sides of an invisible wall. The distance between you feels unbearable. 

As the credits roll and the crowd begins to disperse, you both stand, brushing crumbs from your clothes, your dress creased and suddenly all that fuss earlier in the evening feels wasted.

The walk home is quiet, the tension so thick it feels like you’re wading through it. Neither of you speaks, both lost in your own twisted thoughts, blaming yourselves for something none of you are aware of. Your hands swing awkwardly at your sides, never quite brushing his but longing to lock your fingers into his, and it’s enough to drive you mad.

When you finally reach your doorstep, the words come spilling out simultaneously. “Jaeyun, I—-” “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

You stop, blinking at each other in surprise. His head dips, his gaze fixed on the ground, and he shuffles his feet. “Y/N, you don’t have to say anything. I know I messed up.”

“What?” you ask, frowning.

“I shouldn’t have touched you like that,” he continues, his voice strained. “I mean, on your thigh. It was stupid and inappropriate, and I made you uncomfortable. I-I should’ve known better. Especially after what happened with that prick.”

It takes a moment for his words to sink in. When they do, your heart sinks. “Jaeyun, no,” you say softly, stepping closer. You reach out, taking his hand in yours, and he looks up, his eyes filled with guilt. “I wasn’t uncomfortable.”

His brows furrow, confusion evident. “Then why did you-”

“I was turned on, okay?!” you blurt out, the words slipping from your lips before you can stop them. Your hand flies to your mouth, your eyes wide in horror. Did you seriously just admit that so blase? You have zero shame apparently, but deep down you know you have to tell him the truth or else he will continue to blame himself for something he didn’t even do.

There’s a beat of silence, your horny confession sucking the cold air away from you and filling you both with burning heat.

Then, Jaeyun’s lips twitch, and before you know it, he’s laughing. Not just chuckling, but full-on doubling over, his hands on his knees as he lets out a loud, hearty laugh. All the anxiety and apprehension totally vanished and replaced with relief and amusement.

“Jaeyun!” you groan, your face burning. You swat at his shoulder, but it only makes him laugh harder.

“Wait, wait,” he gasps, straightening up. He’s grinning now, his cheeks pink from laughter, and his eyes sparkle in the dim light. “You were turned on?”

You glare at him, your embarrassment reaching new heights. “Stop saying it!”

But he’s not done. He steps closer, his hands cupping your face, and suddenly all the teasing is gone. His expression softens, his eyes searching yours. “Baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, “I thought I crossed the line.”

You shake your head, your hands slipping around his waist. “You didn’t, I promise. I just got…” you whisper, trailing off as to not repeat it again.

Before you can say anything more, his lips are on yours. The kiss is nothing like the ones you’ve shared previous. It’s urgent, almost desperate, his lips moving against yours with a fervour that leaves you breathless. His hand slides to your throat, his thumb grazing the curve of your jaw as his silver ring presses coolly against your skin. You gasp, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his wet muscle teasing yours.

The mix of all your emotions swirls as his tongue laps yours in reassuring strokes, his hand tightening on your neck, grounding you in the moment. If it wasn’t for his touch, you might float away, all of your insides turned to flames as your body acts like a hot air balloon.

“Y/N,” he groans against your lips, his voice filled with need.

You nod, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, as though the space between you is too much to bear. The world around you fades, and all that exists is him - the taste of his lips, the warmth of his body, the sound of his ragged breathing. 

Jaeyun snakes one of his arms around your waist, pulling your hips to his as you feel him growing against you. The sensation causes you to both harmonise a moan as you completely meld into one another. 

If you weren’t horny before, you certainly are now.

And then, just as you both begin to get excited about what the night could hold, the porch light flicks on, flooding the driveway with a blinding light.

“Shit,” Jaeyun mutters, pulling back as he glances at the door. “Your mum’s going to kill me if she sees us like this.”

You try to pull him back, not really caring about the impending danger of your mother’s scolding. It’s not like she would care if you are both dating, but being caught while you practically try to hump him might cause her to never let Jaeyun in your house again. Goodbye sleepovers, goodbye midnight hangouts on the weekends, and certainly goodbye to closing the door. 

Pulling him back, you shake your head adamantly, muttering a soft ‘nu-uh’ as you capture his mouth with yours. Jaeyun can’t help but give in for a second, gripping your waist tightly as he groans in both frustration and pleasure.

Once he hears the loud, heavy footsteps of your mum padding down the stairs, Jaeyun reluctantly pulls away, his breath mingling with yours as his forehead rests against yours for a fleeting moment. He doesn’t leave you hanging, though. Instead, he peppers your lips with a series of soft, teasing kisses - each one lighter than the last, as if he’s trying to wean you off him. A playful smirk tugs at his lips when he plants a final, lingering peck.

“To be continued, yeah?” he whispers, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. There’s something about knowing the effect he has on you, it really makes him realise that this is definitely more than just friendship for you, that line crossed so quickly. His words linger in the air, filled with promises of what’s to come.

Before you can answer, he darts off, bolting down the driveway, and just in time, your mum appears at the door, her brow furrowing as she spots you standing there, rooted to the spot, cheeks aflame.

“Y/N? What are you doing out here?” she asks, her voice laced with suspicion, as she looks past you towards the street.

“Nothing, Mum,” you reply, your voice light and breezy despite the flush still colouring your cheeks. You try to keep the grin tugging at your lips at bay, but it’s no use. You watch Jaeyun’s figure disappear into the distance, his silhouette illuminated briefly by the streetlights, and your heart feels as though it’s been set alight, burning in the most beautiful way - there’s no danger, only passion.

He is everything. Everything you could ever want, everything you never knew you needed. His laughter, his touch, the way his voice wraps around you - it’s all etched into your skin, into the very fabric of your atoms.

With your heart fit to burst, overflowing with the weight of his adoration and your own, you step inside, heading upstairs. Each step feels light and easy, as though you’re gliding, feet barely touching the ground.

Later that night, as you lie in bed, his scent still lingering faintly on your skin, your phone buzzes on the bedside table. You grab it instantly, your pulse quickening when you see his name lighting up the screen.

I’m so happy I get to kiss you like that forever. x

________

For the next three months, you and Jaeyun kiss like your lungs will collapse without one another’s breath. It becomes a routine; you steal moments before either of your mums get home, tucked away behind the stairwell during class breaks, or hidden between the library shelves when study periods drag on too long. Any opportunity, no matter how fleeting or risky, you grab it by the balls.

Even now, you’re leaning against the faded cream wall outside your classroom with the metal lockers nearby doing little to shield you and Jaeyun’s actions. You’re really meant to be inside the class by now, diligently sitting at your seat like the semi-good student you are. Instead, Jaeyun’s hands are in your hair, fingers delicately brushing past the knots he has created. His lips are warm, firm, and insistent against yours.

God, those fucking lips.

A low, breathy groan escapes him, reverberating against your mouth and it sends a shiver from your head to your toes. The sound is a pretty reminder that he’s just as caught up in this as you are. His palm finds the side of your neck, his thumb brushing over your pulse in a way that makes your knees feel dangerously weak. You’re vaguely aware of the world outside the bubble you’ve created together, but it feels distant and unimportant right now. The heat pooling in your stomach, the way his teeth catch your bottom lip - something Jaeyun figured out you like very quickly - that’s all that matters.

“Excuse me, Mr. Sim, Miss L/N,” a sharp, exhausted voice cuts through the haze, and you both jolt apart like guilty children caught red-handed. Your teacher, arms crossed and eyebrows raised, looks both annoyed and resigned. You glance at Jaeyun, who dares to grin, his lips still slightly swollen and his hair deliciously mussed.

“Sorry, sir,” Jaeyun says, not sounding sorry in the slightest. Why would he be? He takes kissing you far more seriously than any lesson. Jaeyun presses one more hasted kiss to your lips, whispering a silent promise that it won’t be long before his mouth is back on yours, breathing in your lifeline. He shoots you a quick wink, and you have to bite back a laugh. The teacher’s glare sharpens.

By now, everyone in school is sick of the two of you. Teachers sigh audibly whenever you walk into a room together already knowing neither of you will pay attention, and students roll their eyes like it’s a chore. “You guys are so disgusting,” someone groans one day when you’re perched on Jaeyun’s desk, your fingers tracing patterns on his forearm as he squeezes your thigh. “Can you please keep your lovey-dovey shit out of my face?”

Another time, during a particularly heated make-out session in the back of the class, your history teacher’s patience finally snaps. “Mr. Sim, could you kindly relocate yourself to the front of the room? Some of your peers are trying to learn.” Jaeyun barely suppresses a laugh as he grabs his things and saunters to his new seat. When he passes by your desk, he leans down just enough to murmur, “They’re just jealous,” in that teasing tone that makes your heart race.

All you do is exchange heated makeout sessions and quick fondles, but the more it happens, the more you crave him in ways that go beyond the tangle of your tongues. You start to push more and more when you guys hang out; grinding on his lap, marking his neck with hickeys, even palming him through his trousers, silently asking for permission.

It’s not just the kisses that make you want to take it to the next level though. It’s the way he looks at you like you’re literally the only person worth seeing in a crowded room. The way his laughter feels like sunlight on a cold day. The way he seems to know you - really know you - in a way that no one else ever has. He is your best friend, your everything.

Why wouldn’t you want him to have every piece of you?

You can tell he’s apprehensive. Not because he doesn’t want to have sex with you, in fact, you can certainly see how it’s the opposite. The whines and the frustrated groans as you both roll around his bed tell you how badly he wants this. But something else is holding him back.

He’s careful, always so careful with you. It’s not hesitation, it’s patience. The kind that comes from someone who believes there’s a million and one minutes to be shared with you. He knows you’re both still young, and in his eyes, forever stretches way beyond the both of you, allowing you endless opportunities to feel and explore one another in every detailed way possible. So why rush?

That doesn’t mean it’s easy for him, he just doesn’t want to risk pushing you and doesn’t want to make you feel like you have to give more than you’re ready to.

But it’s also undeniable how much he and his body are yearning for you. You see it in the way his eyes cloud over with desperation as you trail kisses along his jaw, hear it in the way he breathes your name like it’s both a plea and a promise. He’s aching to have you, to feel you in every way possible. Yet he’ll wait. For you. As long as it takes.

There is one thing, though, that he can’t wait to do.

Late on a random Wednesday night, your phone pings, tugging you away from the textbook sprawled open on your desk. Jaeyun’s name lights up the screen, and just like your phone, your face brightens. Normally, if he wasn’t spending the night, he’d be fast asleep by now - the boy is practically religious about his eight hours. The text is unusual, but not enough to send alarm bells ringing.

Jaeyun: are you awake?

Y/N: yeah, just studying. are you okay, baby?

Jaeyun: can i come see you?

Your chest tightens slightly as you exhale, that quiet calm you’d settled into now dissolving at his unexpected question.

Y/N: sure! i’ll sneak you in. everything okay? :((

The three dots of a reply don’t appear and your last message hangs there, unanswered, leaving your brain to start spinning its anxious gears. Why does he need to see you now? What’s so urgent it can’t wait for school tomorrow - or, at the very least, a video call?

Minutes feel like hours as you wait. The silence from him is deafening, and it’s so unlike Jaeyun that it sets your stomach twisting. He’s not the type to leave you hanging, especially knowing your overactive imagination rivals his own. He’s always careful with you, considerate of your worries. Yet here you are, left to wrestle with every worst-case scenario your brain can conjure.

Foremost among them is the thought of a breakup.

You and Jaeyun have been amazing - like something out of a clichéd teen romance; but even in a love story, things aren’t always perfect, and you know that. Still, nothing has happened recently that could explain this sudden, out-of-character visit. Nothing, at least, that you can think of.

The vibration of your phone jolts you, and you find yourself holding your breath as you glance down.

Jaeyun: out front x

The kiss. That’s a good sign…isn’t it? If someone was breaking up with you, you wouldn’t put a small ‘x’ at the end of a text.

Your heart pounds as you tiptoe downstairs, just as you had the very first date with Jaeyun. Except this time, there’s no bubbling excitement, only a mix of nerves and curiosity as you silently glide down each step, ensuring you don’t wake up your parents. You unlock the door with careful hands and pull it open, and there he is.

Clad in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, he stands there looking impossibly soft against the dark. His feet are adorned in the Timberland boots you - well, technically your parents - bought him last Christmas. His denim jacket, likely shrugged off for the walk, rests over his arm. His hair is slightly dishevelled, curling at the nape of his neck in a way that makes him look both boyish and heartbreakingly beautiful.

The sight of him standing there, illuminated faintly by the porch light, makes your breath hitch. Whatever reason he’s here, whatever words are about to leave his mouth, you know they’re important. 

“Hi,” he murmurs, his voice soft and subdued with emotions you can’t place.

You don’t reply, instead stepping aside to let him in. His movements are automatic, muscle memory from all the times he’s been here before. Although tonight feels different. Without so much as a glance back, he makes his way to the stairs.

You follow him, and the ascent feels like an eternity. Each step echoes faintly in the stillness of the house, the sound amplified by your racing thoughts and the need to stay quiet. What is with him? Your stomach churns with the kind of anticipation that resembles dread. Jaeyun’s shoulders are tense, you can see that as you’re faced with his back, his hands jammed into the pockets of his sweatpants. Normally, you’d be looking at the veins on his arms and begin to mentally remember each curve, however, this isn’t a moment you want to remember.

Or so you think.

When you reach your room, he steps in first, the familiar space suddenly feeling foreign to him as his mind bounces along his cranium with doubt and excitement. You shut the door quietly, twisting the lock with a soft click, and turn to see him already sitting on the edge of your bed, hands scrunching into the fabric of your teddy blanket.

“Jaeyun, what’s wrong?” you ask, your voice low and laced with worry. It’s so quiet the world almost doesn’t hear it - but Jaeyun always hears you.

He stops fidgeting, his hands resting limply on his lap as his gaze drops to his fingers. “I just…” He trails off, his voice cracking slightly. He begins tracing the lines of his palm like he’s counting his fingers, his movements slow and soothing. “I needed to see you.”

He doesn’t look up.

The weight in the room settles a little heavier now, pressing into your chest as you swallow hard. “Talk to me,” you urge softly, watching as his posture stiffens due to your words. His entire body goes rigid, and the vulnerability in his silence sends a pang straight to your heart.

Jaeyun has always been open with you, an easy book to read. His laughter, his thoughts, his heart - all of it handed to you without hesitation. Since the first day you met, he gave you the key to his emotional safe. So to see him like this, closed off and guarded, it feels so wrong.

You quickly close the distance between you, sitting beside him, close enough that your knees touch. “You can tell me anything, Jaeyun. I promise whatever it is we ca-”

“I love you.”

The words cut yours short like a sharp blade. Quick, almost too quick, and for a moment, they don’t fully register any of the syllables. You blink, stunned, as your own words fall silent. Probably not the best reaction to have but it’s all so sudden that your brain’s crossing some wires as it fights to say something.

Jaeyun’s eyes remain locked on his hands, but there’s panic in the tightness of his jaw, the way his fingers grip his sweatpants as if he’s bracing for impact. Yet, you remain silent.

Say something, you think. Anything.

“You…do?” The words leave your lips before you can stop them, fragile and uncertain. You did ask your brain to say anything, but perhaps a rebutting question about the genuineness of his confession isn’t the way to go.

He nods slightly, his head tilting to the side but still avoiding your gaze. “Of course I do,” he says matter-of-factly, even if it comes out between shallow breaths. “I’ve loved you since I met you, I think.”

His honest words hover stagnant between you, and they make your chest ache in ways you can’t quite define as black and white. It’s not an ache that feels like fear, though there is something scary about the three words - it’s more like the kind of ache that comes with holding so much joy in your hands and wondering if it’s really yours, if you can really grasp it and never let go. A holy shit, this is real, isn’t it? kind of ache.

It’s the kind of feeling that makes your throat dry and your lungs tighten, yet your heart swells all the same. It’s painfully beautiful.

You knew deep down. Of course, you did. How could you not? You’d seen it in the way he looked at you, felt it in the way he breathed out your name as though he would be happy with it being the last thing he ever said. Yet, hearing him say it out loud was entirely different. His confession, spontaneous and real, shakes you alive. 

And you feel it too. You love the boy who is nervously biting his lip as he waits patiently and apprehensive beside you. You love him so much that the world genuinely feels as though it can do you no wrong; the sun and moon align to create the perfect love casted eclipse.

So why can’t you just say them back? You’ve felt them for so long. You’ve dreamed of saying them - you’ve even practised in the mirror for when the perfect time arose. And yet here you are, struggling.

“Y/N?” His voice is soft, cracking slightly with the weight of the moment. “Please…say something.”

There’s a plea in his tone that makes your stomach churn. His eyes, usually so steady and confident, are now dimmed with hesitation. He’s bracing himself for you to shatter him with rejection and that gets your tongue moving.

“I-” Your voice falters. The single syllable hangs in the air, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard. You’re killing him with the quiet, his heart thumping as it wishes to be anywhere but in this room with you, scared you’re about to take a hammer to it.

When Jaeyun decided to tell you tonight, it was impulsive - he knows - but his tongue and heart couldn’t help themselves. He loves you. He loves you like Jack loves Rose, like Gomez loves Morticia, and like his dad loves his mum. He’s so certain that although his feelings are scary, the most terrifying part is you not feeling the same.

You’re searching for the right words, but none seem worthy of what you’re feeling. This isn’t just love - it’s something bigger, something that spills out beyond the English language. But you know you need to say it, even if it doesn’t feel like enough. Because you need him to know, even a fraction.

“I-”, you begin again, finfing your voice, “I love you too, Jaeyun. The whisper comes out at last, and the words hit his chest like a fragile secret you’ve been holding onto for far too long. 

You just hope you said it with enough sincerity that he doesn’t doubt you. You would hate if he thought you were simply returning the words back to him out of obligation.

His head snaps up to meet your gaze, his dark eyes wide and searching, and when you see the way they light up, your heart nearly stops. He’s like a puppy seeing a bone, not quite believing it’s his but anticipating the treat.

Slowly, as though he’s afraid you’ll disappear, he cups your cheek. His palm is warm against your skin, grounding you in this moment that feels almost too perfect to be real.

“Really?” he breathes, fighting the smile until he hears you say it again. Half refusing to believe it.

“Yeah,” you murmur, a smile drawing itself across your cheeks. “Really, really.”

The tension in the air shifts. It doesn’t dissolve, but it changes - transforming into something softer, something heartstopping. You barely have time to register the shift before he’s leaning in, pressing his lips to yours.

His kiss is tentative at first, still testing the waters, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. Soon, the tenderness gives way to desperate love. You can feel it in the way his body magnitises to yours, each cell of his body begging to be joined with yours. His hand moves to your waist, his fingers splaying against the fabric of your t-shirt like he’s anchoring himself to you.

Your hands, almost on instinct, clutch at the fabric of his white tshirt, pulling him closer. It’s not enough - fuck, he’s so close and yet it feels like there’s still too much space between you. Your chest presses against his, your breaths mingling as the kiss deepens.

“I love you so much,” you murmur against his lips, loving the feeling of the words falling so freely from your tongue.

Something in him seems to snap just as you finish the sentence because before you know it, he’s guiding you back onto the bed, his hand gently pressing your shoulder until you’re lying beneath him. The mattress dips under your weight as he hovers over you, his lips never straying far from yours.

The kiss shifts the atmosphere from relief to greed, growing hungrier, needier, and you feel his fingers tightening on your skin. The hand that had been on your shoulder trails upwards, his thumb brushing just below your jaw, tracing the delicate line of your neck. His hand is so big it encapsulates almost all of your neck, your pulse thruming against his palm.

It’s overwhelming in the best way. Your skin feels hypersensitive to every little movement. His lips leave yours eventually, trailing a path down to your jaw, then to the curve of your neck. You tilt your head almost instinctively, giving him better access as his mouth brushes your skin, and you feel the faintest hint of teeth grazing to tease you.

“Jaeyun,” you whisper, not even sure what you’re trying to say - maybe you just want to remind yourself that he’s there, that he is the one making you feel like you’re flying.

He pulls back just enough to look at you as your breathy moan calls out to him. His gaze is wild, unfocused, like he’s caught in some trance he can’t manage to break. But when his eyes meet yours, they soften instantly and you see the Jaeyun you know, his worry of pushing you too far settling to the front of his mind.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his voice hoarse as he starts to draw back. “I got carried away-”

“Don’t apologise,” you interrupt, grabbing the front of his shirt to stop him. His eyes widen slightly at your words, his lips parting as though he’s about to speak, but you don’t give him the chance. Instead, you cup his face, your fingers brushing over the bumps of his faint acne scars. “I want this,” you say, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. “I need you. I have for fucking ever.”

The genuineness of your words seems to reach him, though, it doesn’t stop that nagging in his subconscious. He doesn’t want you to regret your first time, to make this decision because you’re riled up by the confessions. But as he looks into your eyes, he sees no hesitation, only pure love and want.

It only takes a moment before his lips are back on yours, his hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. His touch is gentle if not urgent, his lips soft and warm against yours. The sound of soft whines against your lips sends pleasurable vibrations down your spine. You need him, more than you did at the outdoor movie, more than literally any other time you kissed him. 

This feels different.

This feels like you’re completely in love.

His mouth trails down your body, not hurried but rather purposeful. He doesn’t remove your clothes just yet - instead he lifts your t-shirt to your breasts and begins kissing a gentle line from your valley to the soft curve of your belly. Once he’s reached his destination, his lips linger just where your shorts meet your hips, spending extra time just being there. 

The heat between you both is palpable. You instinctively shift your hips, a silent invitation for him to remove your shorts, but he doesn’t. Not yet.

He teases you, kissing along the line of your lower abdomen, his hands caressing your calves with slow, deliberate strokes. He knows exactly what he’s doing, drawing this moment out, making you ache for him even more. 

"Jaeyun, please don’t," you whisper, your voice a breathless plea as your eyes lock with his. His are half-lidded, already drenched in lust as his lashes graze his cheek, a twinkle of joy sparkling in the dim light of your room.

"Don’t what, baby?" he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss just under your belly button, his lips continuing their slow descent. His fingers brush against you, skimming lightly over your covered slit. You gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily at the foreign feeling, eliciting a teasing smile to play on your boyfriend’s lips. “Don’t tease?”

His finger gains more stength as he applies some further pressure to your cunt, you clit screaming out for his touch. Surprisingly, he finds it even with the barrier of your shorts. You’re not experienced in this department but you’ve read enough magazine columns to know that men have a hard time with locating your precious gem.

Jaeyun must really just be perfect. Or lucky.

The soft moan that escapes you is a sound of pure need that you hadn’t realised you’d been holding in. Jaeyun’s grin widens with pride as he continues to rub your sensitive spot over your shorts, each movement coaxing another response from you.

“So fucking pretty like this, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady.

You haven’t seen this side of him before - the way he’s so in tune with your body, so confident in his touch. This is new to you, to both of you. The Jaeyun you know has always been playful, carefree, but tonight, he’s different - more in control.

What you don’t know, though, is that just a day before, he sought advice from his friend Heeseung about, well, everything. 

"Have any of you ever...you know...eaten a girl out before?" Jaeyun asks, his voice  laced with uncertainty. His friends snicker, but Heeseung, the more mature one, is the only one to respond with any real insight. He’s the only one with enough experience to even answer his question anyway.

"It’s all about listening and responding," Heeseung says, a knowing look in his eyes. "You’ve got to read the room. If you do something and she moans, you do it again. If she doesn’t like it, you try something else. It’s all about learning each other’s bodies."

Jaeyun looks at him with wide eyes, as though Heeseung has unlocked the mysteries of the female body. Heeseung’s advice becomes his guide, and now, it seems like he’s ready to put it into practice.

“How do i do it right though? You always see those tiktoks about girls blasting guys for not being able to get them off,” Jaeyun pauses, “what if I can’t?”

“You will, just listen to her, Jake. Let her control the situation without her even knowing she is.”

And that’s exactly what Jaeyun is doing now. He’s paying attention - listening to the sounds you make, reading every move of your body as if it’s the bible, every unspoken need his hymn sheet. 

He hears the soft whimper you let out when he pulls his fingers away, his own breath catching as he watches your thighs tremble. Without hesitation, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pyjama shorts and pulls them down, his movements desperate but deliberate.

His eyes darken as they settle on you, bare and exposed beneath him. A quiet moan leaves his lips, his restraint hanging by a thread. He’s see pussy before, through the screen of his phone as he jerkily pumps his cock in the midst of the night, but yours…fuck, yours is artwork. It’s like finally seeing the Mona Lisa in person. 

Right now, the only thing stopping him from burying his face between your thighs and devouring you entirely is the need to hear you say it. To know, without question, that you want this as much as he does.

"Can I?" His voice is low, clogged with need. The words alone send your brain into orbit and your hips lift instinctively, offering yourself to him, but that isn’t enough. He needs more.

"Use your words, baby."

"Please, Jaeyun," you whisper, breathless. "I need you so bad."

That’s all it takes.

His hands grip your thighs as he leans in, dragging his tongue between your folds in one single stripe. A deep groan rumbles through his chest as he tastes you for the first time. Honestly, he wasn’t expecting the tang to be so intoxicating, your slick making his buds dance with joy. He has a sneaking suspicion that he’ll get addicted to this. To you.

His lips envelop around your clit in a way that makes your entire body contract. He’s eager, but not rushed - at least he’s trying his hardest not to be. His tongue moves with purpose, seeking out every spot that makes your breath hitch.

"Yunnie…oh my god," you gasp, fingers threading through his messy brown strands, pulling roughly.  "Baby, don’t stop."

He doesn’t. If anything, your plea spurs him on. Heeseung’s advice plays in the back of his mind, and he follows it without hesitation. He listens, he adjusts, he learns. And when he hears the way you whimper when he flattens his tongue against you, when he feels the way your thighs squeeze around his head and muffle the world around him, he does it again.

Jaeyun groans against you, completely undone by the way you react to him. He’s so glad Heeseung sent him those videos, so fucking grateful he paid attention because now, he knows exactly what to do to elicit pleasure from you. And the fact that he’s the one making you fall apart like this? It only makes him hungrier.

His lips brush over your clit, his voice a husky whisper. "Baby…can I?" He traces a single finger along your entrance, waiting for the green light. 

"Do it," you manage to huff out, the need in your voice making his cock twitch.

He doesn’t make you wait either. He slides his middle finger into you, groaning at how tight you are, the feeling of your walls also not what he was expecting. It’s warm - obviously - but those ridges of your walls, the way the flutter even around a simple finger, it’s making him feel feral. "Fuck, baby…you’re gonna be so tight around me."

The stretch is new, different. You’ve never used anything more than your fingers before but his feel nothing like yours. His are longer, thicker, reaching places you didn’t even know existed inside of you. He curls his digit just enough to press against a soft spot inside and you have to cover your mouth with how loud you mewl out. He grins against your skin, pressing his lips back to your sensitive bud as he watches you wriggle under his orchestrated touch. He circles his tongue in slow, lazy strokes, his pace unhurried but devastating for you.

"More," you breathe, and the word alone puts him on the verge of losing it.

He doesn’t hesitate, slipping another finger inside you, and the when you’ve become accustomed to that, he adds another. He uses his nose to nudge your clit with every movement, his breath hot, his tongue relentless. He can feel it - your body tightening, signalling to him that you’re ready. And you don’t even realise it yet.

But he does. He knows you better than you know yourself.

"Are you gonna cum, Princess?"

Princess.

The nickname catches you off guard, but god, the way it rolls off his tongue has you spiralling into orbit.

"So close," you admit, anchoring yourself to earth long enough to know and understand what’s happening. Your voice is shaky as pleasure rumbles in waves, beginning to drown you.

Jaeyun drinks you in like you’re the last drop of water in the desert. His grip tightens, his movements never faltering. And when you finally come undone, his fingers don’t stop, his tongue still lapping up everything you give him.

Oh, he is definitely going to get addicted to this.

You’re panting, your hands still tangled in his hair yanking at his roots as your mind fogs with euphoria. Jaeyun begins to slow down his ministrations, not taking away a second of this from either of you. His eyes roll to the back of his head, savouring the last drops as they leak from your cunt.

He looks up at you, his lips glistening in your essence, his eyes soft yet undeniably starving. "You okay?" he asks, almost innocently despite the sin over his features.

"I’m fantastic," you huff out in a laugh, still trying to catch your breath.

Jaeyun chuckles, pressing one last kiss teasingly to your clit, making you shudder with that ache.

"Jaeyun…" you whisper his name so softly that it gets swept by the air circulating you both, a feather floating as love carries it.

He takes off his tshirt before slowly climbs up your body, his bare chest brushing against your skin, his face hovering inches from yours. "What is it, love?"

And that’s when it hits you. So suddenly. So earth shatteringly obvious. The overwhelming, undeniable realisation that there will never be anyone else. Not after this. Not after him.

You reach for him, pulling him into a kiss that’s deeper and more desperate than any that came before it. Your fingers thread through his hair, your body arching against his as you whisper against his lips, "Jaeyun, I love you so much. I need you."

He stills, his forehead pressing against yours as he takes in your words, his breath uneven as his mind jumps in anxiety and his cock leaps for joy.

"Are you sure, baby?" His voice is thick with restraint, his eyes pleading, hopeful. He wants this, but this is a big step for both of you. Giving you head is one thing but losing your virginity - he needs to make sure this is everything you want.

And you’ve never been more sure of anything in your life.

"I’m so sure, Jaeyun," you whisper, your hand slipping between your bodies. Your fingers trail over his slightly -toned stomach before slipping beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. The direct contact of your hand around his dick makes his breath stutter, then completely stop as you begin to stroke him gently, feeling his weight and warmth. "Let me have every bit of you."

A strangled groan leaves his lips as his head falls back. His grip on your waist tightens, his body trembling under your touch.

"Baby, stop before I-" He catches your wrist, his voice strained. "I’ll cum in my pants if you keep doing that…at least let me be inside of you," His eyes are desperate, his body yearning out for you.

"Jaeyun-" you start to protest, but before you can finish, he pulls away just long enough to strip himself of his sweatpants and boxers.

Your breath catches at the sight of him.

His cock stands thick and hard against his stomach, the head flushed a pretty shade of pink. A prominent vein runs along the underside, disappearing beneath the ridge of his tip. He’s big - bigger than you expected - but all you can think about is how badly you want him. No - need him.

Jaeyun swallows hard at the sight of you on your knees, your legs tucked beneath you, your gaze locked onto his cock. The strap of your pyjama top has slipped down your shoulder, exposing the soft curve of your breast. The sight is enough to make his stomach tighten.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

He shakes his head clear of the lust-drunken state he’s in before leaning down to kiss you, capturing your lips with his once again. You’re so melded together that it’s impossible to tell where you end and he begins, your mouths moving together in a perfect, delicious rhythm.

He lowers you back onto the bed, his body settling over yours, his hand slipping between your legs once more. The moment his fingers brush over your core, your breath catches and your body trembles from oversensitivity. 

"Are you ready for me, baby?" His voice is soft, careful. "Or should I open you up some more?"

Jaeyun’s question was meant to be innocent - he really did want you to be ready for him - but in your heightened state, it was the filthiest thing he had said so far. You were too lost in sensation to string together a proper sentence, yet you knew he needed to be careful. The last thing you need is to walk out as a cast member of Teen Mom.

“Condom,” you manage to point towards the nightstand. “Second drawer.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he reaches over. “Did you expect this to happen or something?” His tone is amused but the heaving of his chest shows how turned on he is, even just by the prospect of a condom.

You let out a breathless laugh, still coming down from the intensity of it all. “Got them at the doctor’s office when I was there. You know I can’t pass up a freebie.”

Jaeyun lets out a loud, genuine laugh, his forehead resting against yours for a moment before he presses a soft kiss to your lips, then, just as he opens the drawer, his hand stills.

“Y/N?” His voice shifts, a teasing lilt creeping in.

You prop yourself up on your elbows to see what caught his attention, only for heat to rush to your face as he holds up a small bullet vibrator between his fingers, a slow smirk spreading across his lips.

“Is this my competition?” He raises an eyebrow, his smile downright wicked. He knew you would have masturbated, but for some reason he just expected you to use your pretty fingers. At least, that’s the thought that got him through his own wank sessions.

You groan, shoving at his chest, embarrassed that you didn’t do a better job of hiding it. Jaeyun tosses the toy aside and leans in again, his breath warm against your lips.

“I’ll make sure you never need that again,” he murmurs, voice dropping to something impossibly low. “Only I get to make you cum from now on, yeah? You need to get off, you call me.”

A whimper escapes you, and the sound alone has his smirk deepening. You don’t doubt his words for a second. His expression softens as he tilts your chin up. “You ready for this?” His voice is a whisper now, careful to convey his sincerity. “We can stop whenever you want, okay?”

You swallow hard, nodding. “I’m ready.” It’s scary, all the warnings about how it hurts suddenly suffocate your mind. Why now? 

Jaeyun takes himself in hand, dragging the head of his cock between your folds, spreading your wetness before tapping it lightly against your clit. A sharp gasp leaves you, your body arching instinctively, suddenly forgetting about your worries. Oh, how simple your horny body is.

“Fuck, Jaeyun. Need you.”

That familiar wetness from earlier coats your thighs, the sheets, and him all at once. He keeps teasing you, watching the way you writhe beneath him, how you gasp and whimper at every slow drag of his length as his head snags on your hood and plays with your bud. Heeseung had told him it was important to make sure you were relaxed, that it would hurt less if you were wet enough. He’d even sent videos explaining it and for the first time, Jaeyun took interest in Biology.

Exhaling to steady himself, he lines up at your entrance. “Breathe out for me, baby,” he murmurs, his free hand stroking up your thigh. “And if it hurts too much, tell me and we will slow down.”

You nod, eyes locked onto his. “Okay.”

Slowly, he pushes his tip in. Your hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, and he stills immediately, his thumb rubbing smooth circles on your thigh. “Princess, you okay?” His voice is tight, his concern cutting through his haze of arousal.

You nod, but he doesn’t move. Not until you say something. “I’m okay, Jaeyun.” You exhale, fingers trailing down his arms to reassure him. “Just give me a minute?”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard, nodding. He leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. But as he does, his cock slides a little deeper, and you wince as he moans out.

“Shit, love, I’m sorry,” he breathes, guilt flashing in his eyes.

Love.

He’s pulling out every pet name he can think of, and god, you love it. You pull him back into a kiss to let him know it’s okay, that the discomfort is bearable, that you trust him. The stretch even from his cock is a lot, but it is to die for. It sends you excitement racing ahead of the pain.

“This is really boosting my ego, y’know,” Jaeyun jokes, looking lovingly into your eyes as he lowers himself further, making his position more comfortable to hold. 

The laugh you let out is accompanied by an eye roll. Your boyfriend, so sweet and caring, knows exactly what you need to relax and distract you from the burn. Even as you laugh, you loosen up a little for him, allowing his cock some room to breathe.

“I’m glad, you should be very proud.”

“Bigger than that vibrator, huh?”

“Wait until you see my dildo collection.”

You and Jaeyun both giggle, placing lazy kisses over each other’s faces as you wash each other in love and adoration, each word, each look, each touch of your skin is securing the bond you share, nothing unable to tear it apart.

You take a deep breath after a moment and smile softly at your lover. “I’m good. You can go.”

Jaeyun nods, laying a final peck to your nose before moving slowly, deliberately, pushing in inch by inch. It’s new for both of you, but there’s no awkwardness, no tension - just quiet understanding, a deep intimacy that makes your chest feel impossibly full.

“Baby, you feel so fucking good,” he groans, his forehead pressing against yours as he bottoms out. His eyes squeeze shut, his whole body trembling. “I can’t believe you’re real.”

You cradle his face, watching the way he’s completely unravelled, how he’s totally lost in the feeling of you. A surge of confidence swells in your chest. You’re doing this to him. You’re making him feel like this.

Your hips lift, finally doing some work as you silently urge him to move, and his eyes snap open, wild and dark with need.

“Princess… fuck,” he gasps when you clench around him on purpose.

You smirk, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, “Is it good, baby?”

The second the words leave your mouth, Jaeyun lets out a strangled moan. His body tenses, his rhythm faltering, and before you can process it, he’s cumming. His jaw slackens, his breath stuttering as pleasure overtakes him.

If you could retain one moment for the rest of his life, it would be this - Jaeyun, undone, lost in euphoria, his chest rising and falling in heavy pants, sweat beading at his temple. He’s beautiful like this, more breathtaking than you’ve ever seen him.

His arms shake as he tries to hold himself up. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he mumbles, cheeks flushing. “I didn’t mean to…that was too fast.” He could curse himself over and over again because why the fuck did he bust his load so quickly? His cock is his biggest enemy right now, embarrassing him by getting too excited too fast.

You laugh softly, brushing damp strands of hair from his forehead. “Jaeyun, it’s okay. It was perfect.” And it was. You don’t expect your first time to last all night; just experiencing this with your boyfriend is enough for you.

But it’s not enough for the boy above you. His lips press into a plump pout, the one he always adorns when he’s dissatisfied. “No, I should have made you finish.” His eyes burn with determination, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head.

“Bab-”

One quick thrust knocks the words right out of your mouth.

The pleasure spreads through you in an instant, making your whole body jolt. “Jaeyun, you don’t have to-oh, god.”

He doesn’t slow, if anything, he picks up the pace, his fingers finding your clit.

“Princess, I promised I’d make you feel good,” he rasps, his breath hot against your skin. “I’m gonna make you cum again, even if it’s the last thing I do.”

Jaeyun has always been determined - when he sets his mind on something, he sees it through. And if his goal is to have you falling apart beneath him, he’s going to make sure he achieves it.

You try to keep quiet, mindful of your parents down the hall, but it’s impossible. The pleasure is too much, your moans spilling out uncontrollably. His thick cock kisses each bump of your walls so beautifully, any pain is washed away with pure ecstasy. 

Jaeyun smirks, rolling his hips in a way that makes you cry out. “Baby, you gotta be quiet.” His voice is teasing, but when he thrusts harder, pulling another loud moan from you, his smirk widens. “I know I’m good, but try.”

You can’t even muster a glare - too lost in the way he feels, in the way he’s taking you apart. You’ve suddenly found a new love for his stubborn need to achieve the best.

“Jaeyun…I’m so-”

“I know, princess. I can feel you.” His lips trail down your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses on all your sweet spots. “Need you to cum all over me, yeah?” His voice is wrecked, his desperation bleeding through. “You love my cock, don’t you?”

“I love you.” The words slip out, tangled in a breathy moan but it doesn’t deminish the sincerity.

Jaeyun stills, his eyes softening, his smirk melting into something more tender. “God, I love you too, Y/N. So fucking much. I’ll love you forever if you let me.”

His movements grow more focused, more purposeful. He ignores his own overstimulation, his only goal to push you over the edge. “Baby, cum for me.” He brushes a thumb over your cheek, voice thick with adoration. “Just for me, give me everything.”

The intensity is overwhelming - the pleasure, the emotion, the weight of his love wrapping around you like a blanket. He is your soulmate, you know that now. 

Your orgasm crashes into you, shattering you completely. You barely register the sounds you’re making, Jaeyun swallowing them with a desperate kiss. And when it’s over, when your body trembles beneath his, Jaeyun holds you close, pressing lazy kisses to your skin.

His voice is a whisper, reverent. “Mine.”

First times in novels and films always seemed impossibly perfect - moments so breathtaking, they felt unattainable. But now, lying here in Jaeyun’s arms, those depictions feel dishonest, pale imitations of the reality you’ve just experienced. Nothing could ever compare to this. Nothing could ever compare to him.

You wouldn’t trade this moment for the world. And you wouldn’t trade Jaeyun for anything. He’s beautifully perfect.

As the lingering waves of pleasure subside, you open your eyes to find him already watching you, his fingers threading gently through your damp, tangled hair. He smiles, warm and adoring, and strokes his thumb across your temple.

“Princess, you did so well,” he murmurs, voice thick with tenderness. “I’m so proud of you. I wasn’t too much, was I?” His brow creases slightly, genuine concern written all over his face.

A sleepy giggle escapes you as you shake your head. “Never…I’m so in love with you, Jaeyun. I’m so serious.” You pull him into a kiss, soft and unhurried, a contrast to the mess still lingering between you.

Jaeyun groans against your lips, then laughs as he pulls back. “Babe, I swear to god, I’ll cum again if you keep saying stuff like that.”

You grin, only half-aware of the way your body protests as he slowly pulls out. The emptiness he leaves behind feels unnatural, like something has been stolen from you. You don’t know how you ever lived before him - not like this, not without being completely wrapped up in him.

And now? You’re certain you can’t live without him.

Jaeyun hisses as he carefully removes the condom, then crawls off the bed, padding over to the bin. You take the opportunity to admire him, his bare skin still flushed, his muscles shifting as he moves, his perky ass so soft and pretty. That’s all mine, you think hazily, a lazy smile tugging at your lips.

He turns just in time to catch you staring. Tilting his head, he narrows his eyes playfully. “Y/N? What are you smiling at?”

You blink up at him, still dazed. “You,” you admit, voice soft. “Just…smiling at the fact you’re mine.”

A sudden shyness creeps in, and you cover your face with your arm, giggling. Never have you been so happy, your heart content and just filled with pure innocent joy at the idea of finding love like this. 

Already striding back to the bed and hovering over you, Jaeyun gently tugs your arm away so he can see your face. “Always,” he whispers, brushing his lips over your forehead. “I’m always gonna be yours. Until my last breath on this earth, I’m yours.”

The two of you stay tangled together, bodies pressed close, as the first hints of dawn begin to filter through the curtains. You don’t move. You don’t need to.

The world can wait. Right now, there is only Jaeyun. 

___________

To say everything is going well with you and Jaeyun over the past year and a half would be an understatement. You've never felt so deeply cherished or loved in your life - not by your parents, not by your friends, not by anyone. Only Jaeyun makes the world feel more vivid and bright, as if the saturation has been turned up just for you; the sun has a habit of making life look brighter like that.

Your eighteenth birthday party is tonight, something you’ve spent months planning. It falls perfectly after exams, giving you the excuse to gather everyone and let loose. Now, do you have an endless sea of friends? Not quite. But you have your group - the ones who stay through every season. The ones who have been there for your highest highs and lowest lows. But that doesn’t stop you from inviting half the year group anyway, just to make the party feel more alive. The more, the merrier.

The house hums with excitement as preparations fall into place. Fairy lights drape across the walls, bottles of drinks line the kitchen counter - supplied by your parents and Yeji’s - and music thrums in the background, setting the vibe for the night ahead. The air carries the scent of vanilla candles mixed with anticipation.

Ryujin and Yeji, your two closest friends, are with you as you get ready, their voices a steady hum in the background as you check your reflection for the nth time. The dress you chose is deliberate: a short, black, sleek dress with red lace edging the hem. It’s bolder than your usual style, more daring. A declaration of some sorts. 

“Y/N, you look amazing,” Ryujin says, appraising you with a knowing grin. “Jake isn’t going to be able to keep his hands off you.”

You smile, her excited words confirming exactly what you’d hoped. She doesn’t know you bought the dress for that reason alone - for Jaeyun to see a new side to you. There is something about turning eighteen that - at least for you - feels so…freeing, different. Like the girl standing in front of you is more than just plain old Y/N who does semi-badly in school and collects cute keyrings. Tonight, you are stepping into a new era and although you don’t quite know what that entails just yet, it thrums beneath your skin like electricity.

Yeji claps her hands, eyes alight with excitement. “Now, it’s time to fucking party.” She pours the three of you a shot, the bright lime liquid gleaming under the bedroom lights.

You take the glass, fingers tightening around it. This moment feels like like standing on the edge of a rooftop, wind in your hair, heart racing. You glance at your friends, their faces mirroring your own exhilaration and relief of letting their hair down. So, with a grin, you clink your glass against theirs and knock back the shot, feeling the warmth spread through you.

The night is only just beginning.

Hours later, the party is in full swing. The house is packed, your parents are nowhere in sight, the music pulses through the walls, and people seem to be having the best time, each making a point to wish you a happy birthday along with appreciative thanks for hosting. You should be enjoying yourself, it is your party after all. But there is one integral piece missing. Jaeyun is still missing. You glance at your phone for the hundredth time, staring at the text he sent earlier.

Jaeyun: be there soon, baby. can’t wait to see my girl! x

That was two hours ago.

“Hey.” A voice from behind pulls you from your thoughts, dragging your eyes from the bright screen as you turn. The sight of him steals your breath for a moment. Sleeked-back hair, perfectly carved features - he’s the kind of beautiful that makes entire rooms pause.

“I’m Sunghoon.” His voice is smooth, almost amused. “You’re the birthday girl, right?”

“H-Hey. Yeah, that’s me,” you manage, feeling unexpectedly flustered. “Thanks for coming.”

The moonlight slips through the windows, catching on the sharp lines of his face, the constellation of moles dotting his skin, the gleam of his canines as he smiles. He’s striking, hypnotic in a way that unsettles you. This is Park fucking Sunghoon. 

You have never spoken to him before, nor did you think he even knew that you existed until this moment. He is never one to turn down a party but he keeps to his friend group. He’s popular, bright, has girls fawning at his feet 24/7, and yet he’s speaking to you. 

Maybe this dress had more powers than you thought.

“You’re Jake’s girlfriend?” he asks, tilting his head slightly as his eyes dart the crowded room. “Where is he?”

Where is he? You’ve been asking yourself the same thing. He’s always with you, always on time. Always here. And suddenly, you miss him even more than ever.

You force a light chuckle, shrugging. “No idea, actually.”

Sunghoon’s gaze flickers over you, assessing the situation. When his hand brushes your arm, your body tenses involuntarily. You don’t move away, but something inside you twists, an unspoken warning sounding in your mind. Jaeyun, where are you?

Sunghoon notices your hesitance and merely nods, understanding your sudden apprehension. He’s not one to force it.

“If I were Jake,” he murmurs, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine, “I’d never let my pretty girlfriend stand alone at her own party.”

And then, as if to make a point, he leans in and presses a kiss to your temple.

He’s right, isn’t he? Jaeyun should be here. Shouldn’t you be angry and not wallowing, waiting for him? Instead, you’re swallowing another shot of Cherry Sourz - Jaeyun’s favourite, a habit ingrained in you. Yeji’s words echo in your mind, the ones she exclaimed enthusiastically a few weeks ago as you were planning the night. If you’re going to celebrate your 18th birthday, you might as well have no regrets.

So you do just that. Four hours in and your sense of time is gone, your head pleasantly light and airy, your body warmed by the alcohol and humidity of the packed house. Nine shots in, and you’ve forgotten what you were even upset about.

And then the air shifts.

Jaeyun walks through the door with Heeseung and Jay, his usual easy grin in place. He greets people in the hallway, his energy relaxed - until his eyes find you.

The smile fades. His body stills. His jaw tightens.

You, in that dress, your hair tousled from dancing, the flush on your cheeks. But most of all, the hands on your waist.

Sunghoon.

Jaeyun clenches his fists, inhaling sharply through his nose as jealousy laces through his veins like wildfire. He isn’t naive. He knows Sunghoon is dangerous - not in the way that means trouble, but in the way that makes him a threat. He’s handsome, perhaps the best-looking guy in school, and more infuriatingly, he’s interested in you. 

When he was getting changed for practice a couple of days ago, he overheard Sunghoon and his friend Sunoo talking about you. About his girl. Sunghoon was talking about you, describing how you’re really catching his attention lately, and he had zero quips about your relationship status as he said ‘I don’t think Jake is competition’. That riled up Jaeyun more because how dare Sunghoon see you as something of a prize that he could win.

Jaeyun moves before he can think. One moment, Sunghoon’s hands are on you, and the next, Jaeyun is there, pulling you flush against him as he slips his arms around your waist. He buries his face in your shoulder, the scent of your perfume dulling the fury roiling inside him. You always had a way of making him calm, even if you didn’t say a word.

“Baby,” he breathes, his voice soft but laced with possession. Sunghoon steps back, but the smirk lingers in his gaze, knowing Jaeyun feels even a hint of threat. “Happy birthday, my love.”

You should be furious. You are furious. But Jaeyun’s touch is grounding, familiar, something you’ve always craved. Still, the soft part of you that folds for your boyfriend any chance it can is being dropkicked out of your senses, alcohol now fueling you into anger.

And for the first time, Jaeyun might not be able to charm his way out of this one.

You brush his hands off, ignoring him as you continue your conversation with Sunghoon. Jaeyun is hurt. He understands why you’re acting this way - he let you down. Football practice ran far longer than he intended and there was literally no way his coach was letting him leave early, but that reasoning doesn’t make it any easier to watch you give your attention to someone else. To Sunghoon, of all people.

“Princess,” he whispers, the nickname curling off his tongue like a plea, begging you not to be too harsh on him.

You can’t ignore him anymore, your bones melting at his tone, yet, the alcohol has you rolling your eyes, a dry, exasperated sigh jolting out your lips. 

“I’m sorry I’m late, I feel like such a dickhea-”

“Good,” you snap before he can finish. Your voice is sharp, not loud, but it slices straight through him. “I hope you feel worse than that.” You turn to face him now, arms crossed tight, barely able to keep still with the anger running hot through your veins. “I waited for four hours, Jaeyun. Four. Do you have any idea how humiliating that is? Standing around like an idiot, making up excuses for you when people asked where you were? All so you could do what? Kick a fucking ball around?”

Jaeyun’s breath catches in his throat. You’re really fucking mad.

“And for all I know, it wasn’t even that,” you continue, your voice trembling with something heavier than just anger. “Maybe you were with someone else. Maybe football was just an excuse.”

That makes him still, his spirit leaving his body completely. Cheat. That’s what you’re implying. That word, even unsaid, shatters something in him. 

His stomach knots painfully, bile rising in his throat at the mere suggestion. It feels like a slap, like a betrayal, even though he’s the one being accused. How could you think that? How could you even consider it? Had he not been obvious enough? Had he not loved you loudly enough? The thought alone makes him sick.

“Baby,” he exhales, forcing himself to stay calm, to keep his voice even despite the panic pressing against his ribs. “No. I swear, I was at practice. The coach wouldn’t let me leave-”

“Whatever, Jake.”

It’s not the words that cut him open. It’s the name. Jake.

Everyone calls him that. His friends, his teammates, teachers, even strangers. But you? Never. Not since the day he told you he liked being called Jaeyun better, especially from your lips. It was something small, something intimate, something that belonged only to you. But now, you’re just like everyone else.

“Go enjoy yourself,” you say coolly, turning back to Sunghoon. “I’m in the middle of a conversation. Can’t you see?”

Jaeyun follows your gaze, his jaw clenching when he sees the satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of Sunghoon’s lips. The guy looks pleased with himself, like he’s already won the game he’s been planning all along.

Jaeyun’s hands curl into fists at his sides as he walks away, defeated and charged with anger he doesn’t think he has ever felt flow through his bloodstream.

___

An hour or so later, he watches as Sunghoon shifts closer to you, his fingertips barely grazing your arm, his voice dipping lower as he says something that makes you laugh, tilting your head back just enough for it to sting. That laugh belongs to Jaeyun. He knows every version of it - the soft, sleepy one in the mornings, the unrestrained one when you find something so hilarious, the breathless, lovesick one you give only to him.

Except, tonight, you’re seemingly giving it to someone else.

He should walk out. He should let you cool off, let himself cool off. But when Sunghoon leans down, his lips dangerously close to yours, something inside Jaeyun snaps.

Without thinking, he strides forward, his arm sliding around your waist, tugging you against his chest before Sunghoon can move any closer. His lips find the curve of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. It’s an act of possession, yes - but also a silent apology, a plea for you to stop this, to stop hurting him.

“Baby,” he murmurs, stretching the syllable out deliberately. He knows what it does to you. Knows you can’t ignore the sultry tone. “Can I give you your present now?”

You almost melt into his touch, the way he breathes out the petname makes your knees weak, and the press of his plump, pink lips on your neck makes you almost forgive him. But unfortunately for you, the shots are infiltrating the sensible part of your brain, no longer thinking clearly.

“Is it to leave me alone? Because I would love that.” You spit at him, causing the boy to loosen his grip and fall back slightly.

As soon as you turn around to look at him you instantly regret the words that escaped your lips. Jaeyun’s eyes are wide, his brain working overtime as his chest moves heavily, trying to calm his anxiety-shaken heart. 

The alcohol in your system is making you react in a completely opposite way to how you would. If sober you was alert she would be comforting Jaeyun and giving him a thousand kisses to apologise. But unfortunately drunk you is in charge and she is dangerous. 

“I need you to stop being so clingy, it's embarrassing.” Stop talking you scream at yourself, “Can’t you see I’m talking to someone?” For the love of god please shut up and apologise. 

Jaeyun doesn’t move. Transfixed with hurt at your pointed words. You know his insecurity when it comes to being clingy, often told from everyone how he is too much and too overbearing. Yet, you never thought that, not once.

Well, until today apparently.

“Oh.” It’s the only word that leaves his lips, and then suddenly, his expression shifts, his lips curling into something that almost resembles a smirk - but there’s no humour in it. Just something bitter, something cold. He nods, tongue pressing into his cheek before letting out a quiet, disbelieving laugh.

“Hope you have fun fucking him.”

The words are low, venomous, and before you can even process them, he’s turning on his heel and walking away.

Your heart lurches. You’ve fucked up big time.

“Jaeyun,” you call after him, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even turn back to see how close you are. You push through the crowd, your heels clacking against the floor as you reach for his wrist, pulling at him. “Babe, please.”

He yanks his arm away as if your touch burns him as he continues his way out of your house and beginning his descent home. He can’t fucking believe this. Any of it.

“I’m sorry,” you rush out, breathless. “I didn’t mean it, Jaeyun.”

“Mean what?” His voice is low, but it holds an edge sharp enough to cut. “That I’m clingy? That you’d rather talk to Sunghoon? That you think I would ever cheat on you?”

The anger in his voice is a quiet thing, controlled, but it shakes you more than if he had yelled. You’ve never seen him like this. Never heard him sound so…broken.

“Okay, yes, I was late for your birthday, and believe me, Y/N, I am so fucking sorry. I tried to get away, and I couldn’t. But you? Flirting with him right in front of me?” His voice tightens, and he runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “That’s a low I never expected from you.”

Your stomach knots. Shame creeps up your spine. Because he’s right. You knew exactly what you were doing. You bite your lip, willing yourself not to cry, not to fall apart in front of him. You want to reach for him, to kiss him, to take it all back. 

But the alcohol makes you reckless. Makes you cruel. It makes you not see sense.

“How am I supposed to know you aren’t going around with other people?” The words slip out before you can stop them. For fuck sake Y/N. Control. Your. Self. “Half of your football team was here on time, but suddenly the coach only wants you to stay behind? Fucking funny, that, isn’t it?”

Jaeyun lets out a humourless laugh, shaking his head. “I fucking love you, Y/N. That should be enough for you to understand I’m not fucking anyone behind your back.” His voice softens slightly, but it’s strained, exhausted. “Do you not trust me? Have I ever given you a reason not to?”

Silence. He’s met with silence from your end as you stare blankly at him.

And that makes him furious. He had an ounce of faith you would deny it, to ensure him that you do trust him and none of his previous actions have ever made you doubt him or his love for you.

His jaw clenches and he swallows hard before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a small, gift-wrapped box. The black box with a white ribbon looks less celebratory than it does pitiful now. With a sharp, forceful flick of his wrist, he throws it at your feet.

“Happy fucking birthday, Y/N.”

You flinch as the box lands with a soft thud. If only you had kept your fucking mouth shut all of this wouldn’t be happening. Tears wouldn’t be flowing down your cheeks and Jaeyun wouldn’t be feeling his heart break down into a million pieces.

Your hands tremble as you crouch down, fingers fumbling as you unwrap it slowly. Inside, nestled carefully, is a gold sun-shaped necklace with a rose quartz centre. Handmade, delicate. The date engraved on the back isn’t your birthday. It’s the day you first met.

Your throat and eyes feel like they are on fucking fire.

And by the time you lift your head, Jaeyun is gone.

He’s gone.

For the first time tonight, you feel completely and utterly sober.

___

You stand before Jaeyun’s front door, your breath uneven as your fingers tremble around the small black box in your grasp. The night air is biting against your skin, but the heat of regret burns hotter inside you. Each step you took here had been slow, your legs growing heavier with the thoughts circling your mind. But as much as guilt and sadness eat you up, you need to make things right. You cannot lose Jaeyun over this.

So, you don’t hesitate and your fist begins to pound against the wood with urgency, not caring who it woke up in his house.

You hear his footsteps almost immediately, quick but fed up, each one thudding against the stairs inside. His voice comes first, irritated but muffled through the door.

“Oh, my days-” he groans. “It’s like three in the bloody morning. What do you want?”

The lock turns before he’s even registered who it is. But when he sees you - red-faced, chest rising and falling too fast, dress bunched up at your thighs so short you might as well be wearing a belt to protect your dignity, tears spilling freely - it makes his entire body stiffen. 

“Y/N?”

You break.

It starts with a sharp inhale, a choked sob forcing its way out, and then suddenly, everything you’ve been holding in rushes forth.

“Jaeyun, I’m such a fucking idiot,” you cry, the words tumbling over each other in your haste to get them out. “I don’t even know why I said what I did - I know you would never cheat, I’ve always known that I was just drunk and - and stupid, and I was so mad that you were late, but it wasn’t even a big deal, not really, and I-” Your breath hitches between sobs. “I love you so much, please don’t break up with me.”

The pleas and explanations come out so fast that there is a delay from your lips to his brain. The silence between you leaves the words to marinate and your guilt to rise up again. Saying it outloud, how you acted like a baby all because he was late, really isn’t how you want to start this ‘new mature era’. 

You don’t know what you expect. Maybe the slam of the door, another dent in your pride. Maybe for him to look at you with the same intense fire in his eyes that he had hours ago. Maybe for him to tell you to fuck off back to your party which you consequently left behind because pretending to be happy in a room full of people you don’t know sounds less appealing than being sad in the presence of someone who knows you.

But Jaeyun just stands there, eyes softening as the corners of his lips lift into the smallest smile - fond, understanding, forgiving, like he’s already made peace with this somehow, even though he was the one that got hurt.

“Princess,” he murmurs affectionatley, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around you in an almost crushing embrace.

The warmth of him is immediate, all-consuming. He smells like bitter citrus and patchouli from his perfume. He smells like home. His embrace is tight, unrelenting, like he’s scared that if he lets go, you’ll slip away.

“I will never break up with you, baby.” A kiss to your forehead, lingering. “I’m not angry at you.” A kiss to your temple, reassuring. “I’m sorry if i’m too clingy.” A kiss to your cheek, gentle. “I love you so much.” A kiss to your lips, slow and unhurried, letting each sentence sit with you as a reassuring linger. 

You let yourself melt into him, hands clutching at his bare chest, grounding yourself in the steady rhythm of his heart against your own. The idea of never being able to hold him like this again haunts your anxiety; you almost lost him.

When you finally pull back, you shake your head, adamant that he has no reason to apologise. “You aren’t clingy, Jaeyun. I’m just an idiot.” Your voice wavers. “I love when you’re like that. I love it all the time. I was just…mad that you were late.”

He nods, biting his lip in thought - a habit of his you’ll never quite get over.

“I’m sorry I was late.” His forehead presses against yours, his breath fanning across your lips. Up close, you can see the remnants of tears in his eyes, the same way he sees them in yours. The weight of tonight sits on both of your chests, but the silence isn’t suffocating. It’s understanding. You both know there was better ways to handle the situation.

You don’t speak. Neither does he. You just look at each other, wordless, as if afraid saying anything more will break whatever fragile peace you’ve finally reached. Both of you are so scared of having the others heart ripped from your grasp.

Then, after a moment, Jaeyun leans in again, pressing another kiss to your lips, deeper this time, his hands finding purchase at your waist as he slowly guides you backwards into the house.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispers against your mouth.

You nod, barely parting from him. “Okay.”

He leads you up the stairs quietly, careful not to wake his parents - though, it’s a miracle they slept through everything - shutting the bedroom door behind you as softly as he can. His room is only lit with the warm glow from his bedside lamp casting pretty shadows across his walls. 

Jaeyun looks down and notices the small black box still clutched in your hands.

“Did you like it?” His voice is hesitant, almost boyish. He spent so long picking out the perfect piece for your birthday. The sun represents everything you are to him. Bright, warm, electrifying, and his motivation to keep going because no matter the cold and rain that come, the sun will always come out to wash it all away. 

You follow his gaze, then nod as you left out a breath. “I love it,” you whisper. “Can you put it on me?”

He nods without a word, taking the box from you and carefully undoing the clasp. “Turn around, Princess.” 

You do as he says, your back to him, lifting your hair out of the way as he fastens the delicate chain around your neck. The gold is cold against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. But the chill doesn’t last, because before you can even react, Jaeyun’s lips press against the nape of your neck, featherlight and tender.

Another shiver racks over your body, but this one has nothing to do with the cold.

“Jaeyun,” you murmur, turning to face him. Your fingers trail down his chest, his toned stomach, stopping just above his waistband. Only now do you realise he’s only in his black boxers, his skin still slightly damp from his earlier shower. “Let me make it up to you.”

His breath stutters.

You glance up at him beneath your lashes, fingers toying with the lining of his underwear, waiting. His jaw tightens and his head tilts back oh so slightly, exposing the sharp lines of his apple. He wants this. You can feel it in the way his muscles contract beneath your touch, in the way his lips part ever so slightly, his breathing coming quicker as he processes your words.

“Baby, I don’t need you to do that.” Jaeyun’s heart is beating fast as you trace the outline of his cock with your pointer finger. He’s trying to defuse this situation without hurting your feelings. 

Trust, it’s not that he doesn’t want to, it’s the opposite. But he doesn’t want to take advantage. Your emotions are pent up high, you might be feeling like you are obligated to do this as some sort of consolation act - also paired with the fact that you’re drunk - it doesn’t really mix well in his stomach.

“Y/N, I forgive you, there is no need to-”

What he isn’t aware of is that you aren’t listening to him, not a fucking syllable, because yes, you might be tipsy - mostly sober from the walk and adrenaline in your veins - you are also horny and need to just feel him. To be close to him. 

And how much closer can two people get with a cock and a mouth?

Your hand trespasses his boxers and begins to lightly stroke his shaft, making him mutter an almost inaudible ‘fuck’, his lip finding it’s way between his pretty teeth.

Once you see him give way to apprehension, you use your free hand to guide him to sit on the gaming chair, letting him fall back with a thud as he tries to focus on balance rather than your hand wrapped around his growing member. 

“Relax, Jaeyun. Let me do this. I need to taste you.” Your voice is low and has a hoarseness to it that lets him know you’re more than needy. He could cum right there and then as his mind conjures up images and fantasies of what you’re about to do. 

You slide his boxers off, slapping the side of his thigh so he will lift his bum off the chair. “I’ve missed your cock so much.”

Jaeyun laughs at that, huffing it out with a breath he was holding in, obliging to your request. “We literally fucked yesterday.” 

“Technically,” you point at the clock sitting coincidentally on his desk as it reads 3:27am, “it was 2 days ago. And I didn’t even get the celebratory cliche birthday sex.” 

Pouting, you look up at him in an almost begging gesture, knowing the scene in front your boyfriend is enough for him to shutdown and implement meltdown mode. You are so beautiful in every way to him - even spite of the tear-stained cheeks and mascara smudging - but right now you look so deliciously irresistible.

His hand comes to cup your cheek as his thumb wipes away some of the running makeup from your face, his gaze locked onto yours with admiration and pure love. It’s so innocent despite the lust weaving into his blood. 

“You’re so lovely” he whispers, smiling gently at the love of his life. “Lovely people deserve to get fucked on their birthday, yeah?”

There it is, the Jaeyun you were waiting for. And the permission you needed to take his cock in your mouth. With a smirk, you kiss his bell before engulfing it, letting the taste of him simmer on your buds.

It catches him off guard and his hands instinctively move to your hair, gripping like a lifeline. “Fuck, Princess you’re so beautiful like this.” He looks down at you with hooded eyes, admiration and desire flooding his pupils as they dilate, love evident. 

You bob your head up and down, going faster with the praise. Each time you work your lips up his length, you swirl your tongue around the tip, dipping into his slit every second time to create a teasing and torturous rhyth. You know everything that make Jaeyun feel pleasure; every vein that’s more sensitive than the other, every flick of your tongue or tantalising bite of your teeth just to keep him on edge. 

Over the past few years, you’ve learned and memorised each other's bodies, likes and dislikes. You are convinced no one could ever know you the way Jaeyun does. Not in body and certainly not in spirit. 

A few weeks ago you walked in on Jaeyun jerking off, phone in hand and ass levitating off his bed as he lost himself in the pumps of his fist. Once his eyes locked with yours, he threw his phone away and apologised a million times. You’re not the type of girlfriend that has an issue with her boyfriend watching porn, you have obviously done it too sometimes, like if he’s away for the weekend to football training. Jaeyun watching porn wasn’t exactly shocking or upsetting.

What you did feel though was curiosity. As you picked up the phone, the girl was giving overly enthusiastic head, gagging and dribbling as the man fucked his cock into her mouth. You have never done anything like that before, Jaeyun always holds back thrusting his hips up so as to not cause you pain or discomfort. 

But seeing the lewd act on the tiny screen…you wanted it.

So today, you were going to give him everything you got. Apologies can’t be half-arsed, right?

You smile and lift your bum from your feet so your mouth is hovering over his cock at a higher angle, trying. Smirking, your eyes meet his and you take his full length in your mouth, gagging as the tip breaches the back of your throat, kissing your tonsils like they were long lost lovers.

“Baby, be careful,” he hisses, gripping your hair as he tries to pry you off. Jaeyun is always attentive, always caring, but right now you need to see him lose control. 

So, despite his attempts to separate you from his shaft, you don’t budge, Rather, you sit with his dick in your mouth and swallow, closing your throat around his head - a trick that wasn’t easy to master, many attempts on a plastic dildo failed, but you knew you had to try. 

And thank fuck you did because as your throat pinches the tip and it sucks at his slit, he moans so loudly you’re scared his parents will hear from their room. He groans, legs elivated slightly as his body tries to reach the pearl gates, not understanding that heaven is between his legs right now. He has never felt anything like this before.

“Fuck, baby, where did you learn that?”

Instead of giving him an answer, you work your mouth up and down his cock again, not giving him that euphoria again and only teasing it every so often. You can’t let him get used to it, not just yet. You have a funny feeling that this will come in handy for the years to come, a bargaining tool of sorts.

You pinch his thighs a little, eliciting a his from his mouth and a jerk from his hips. Jaeyun slams his cock into the back of your throat, unforgiving and totally by accident. He’s so gone in the haze of your warm mouth enveloping him that he takes a second to realise what he done. 

“Shit, baby, I’m so sorry,” he apologises, resting his ass back on the seat and patting your head to soothe you. Yet, surprisingly, you don’t protest or grumble - you simply moan, trying to let him know that's what you want, what you need. 

So, you pinch him again and thankfully, he gets the memo. “Oh? Does my baby want me to fuck her pretty little mouth?” His tone is cocky albeit breathless in composition, his semi-fucked out flush only adding to his filth.

You’re dripping at even just the thought and hum around him in acknowledgment, the vibrations going straight to his heart. 

He leans down and pulls you off his cock gently, a fist full of hair that could easily hurt you, yet, his touch is so tender the roots hardly yank from the scalp. “Tell me you want it. Say it.”

You blush, biting your lips together as you gather the courage to utter the words into the heated air. You’re confident, especially around him, but there’s something so vulnerable about wanting to be used like that, that makes it a little harder to speak. 

“I-I want you to fuck my throat until I can’t speak anymore.” 

A groan leaves his body and his jaw tightens in primal desire. You’re perfect. He will never understand where you came from, or how he has the honour to live out this lifetime with you, but he is so thankful and makes a silent promise to anyone above that he will never ever take it for granted. “If it gets too much just tap my leg three times okay, baby? No matter what. If it hurts, if you need air, let me know,” he mutters into your lips as he kisses you gently. It's so tender and loving. But you know you’re about to get a completely different Jaeyun in two seconds.

You could not be more excited.

Standing up, he squeezes your cheeks with his middle finger and thumb to get your mouth to open once again. His dick is red and frustrated, multiple veins protruding around the shaft. You’re starving for it even though you’ve been devouring him for the past 15 minutes - that’s just how addicting he is. 

Placing his cock in your mouth you take him all in as he slowly thrusts. You can see he is trying to be gentle, testing the waters of how much you can really take. Sometimes, your eyes are bigger than your belly, and he has no problem giving you just enough to satusufy this craving without overfeeding you.

But he is going too slow, too careful; so you meet his thrusts, sucking up and down at an altered timing so his cock jabs your throat forcefully.. 

“My baby,” he breathlessly moans, watching you work for more. As much as he loves to see it, for both of you to truly experience this for all that it should be, he needs to let go of his apprehension of hurting you and just give you everything he has.

He picks up the pace, his tip battering against your throat with fervour - and you love every second of it. You hum in pleasure around him as he pounds faster into your mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head as each thrust indicates the loss of control from the boy powering over you. 

“Y/N you’re so fucking good to me, such a perfect girl,” he moans from the depths of his chest and his thrusts become erratic, sloppy, as he gets closer to his high. Your mouth is a miracle worker but your throat is a devine intervention. He can feel the stretch of your canal around him, barely fitting him in as you gag and gurgle.

Your hands reach around to to his ass and squeeze, causing him to sink further into you - if that is even possible. The tip of his cock is sitting in the middle of your throat, like a caterpillar waiting to bloom into the butterfly it’s destined to be. 

That’s when you try to swallow again - although with some difficulty - and clamp around him. Your boyfriend’s reaction is immediate as he hunches over, fingers twisted in your hair as he roars out in pleasure. “Jesus, fuck…fuck!” 

He quickly draws you from his cock, taking a few steps back himself just as you were about to taste the sweet tang of his cum. Your anxious nerve peaks once again, scared that you’ve done something to upset him or taken it too far.

“Jaeyun what’s wrong?” Your voice is as steady as you can make it as you utter the question.

Every perspective, he sees your worried stare and shakes his head. Within a second, he is bent down so you are eye level, patting your hair in a reassuring gesture. “I need to cum inside you, princess, that’s all. You did so fucking well…you’ve been holding out on me all these years.” 

His words which are laced with humour and certainty calm you instantly, body no longer running cold with regret or guilt. Cupping your cheek with his roasting palm, he slowly guides you both up to stand, his mouth never leaving yours as his tongue strokes yours messily. He breathes new life into you, beautiful and serene.

“Such a pretty dress,” he states admiringly as he lays you down on the bed. “As soon as I saw you in it I knew I had to fuck you while you wear it.” Jaeyun hikes up the dress so it sits above your hips, exposing your red underwear, his favourite. “All for me, yeah?” His fingers lightly graze your slit over the lace. 

“Everything is for you,” you exhale earnestly, a smile etching onto your face as you take in his puffy features. He looks so delicate and vulnerable, wearing all his emotions on his skin. 

The loving confession makes his heart swell in his chest. He loves you with every fibre of his being and he will until the end of time. 

Pushing your panties to the side, he slips his finger between your folds, not quite pushing inside of you but teasing - much to your dismay - and he can feel just how wet you are. It’s like he’s just set off a firehydrant in the summer; and he is more than ready to get soaked beneath it.

Just as he goes to slip his middle finger inside of you, you grab his wrist, whining and shaking your head, pausing him in his actions.

“Just fuck me, Jaeyun. Please.” Your eyes land on his cautious ones. He hasn’t prepped you yet and you both know it’s already a struggle to make him fit when he’s stretched you open, nevermind plunging in without some semblance of stretch. “I can’t wait for your cock any longer.” Frustration is laced within every word and your body acts as a tangible demonstration of your need as it writhes or some attention.

Seeing you so depserate, Jaeyun can do nothing but yield to you, nodding as he immediately takes a condom from his stash and slides it on with urgency. His sensitive tip colliding with the rubber makes him wince. With the way you’re splayed out below him, mixed with the cum sitting right at the barrel of his dick, he’s not convinced he wont bust as soon as your tightness encapsulates him.   

Nevertheless, he looks for lube but can’t find his usual tube, the crystal blue bottle evading his sight. 

You watch him search, frustration building as time ticks by. Impatient and leaking, you take the opportunity to shuffle down on the bed, grab his cock, and guide it to your entrance. 

Whipping his head around, Jaeyun has shock plastered on his face, but it is quickly switched to one filled with pure lust as you push down on his tip. “Princess can’t wait ,huh?” His question is rhetorical and mischievous as he relishes in how worked up you’re getting.

You eagerly shake your head as you push him in further, the bell sinking past your hole and opening you up for the rest of him. The stretch isn’t as painful as you thought due to how turned on you are, your walls so fucking eager to be filled that they glad accept his presence. 

“You’re the death of me, Y/N,” your boyfriend moans as he pushes himself fully into you, bottoming out slowly, still cautious of causing you pain.

“I need you to fuck me so bad, baby,” you mewl in a high pitched breath.

And who was he to deny you? It was your birthday after all, even if it wasn’t technically within the time frame. The blur between the late night and early morning allowing you both to still celebrate together. 

His hips begin to quicken, ass tightening with each sharp thrust as he pierces right through you. Your back is arched off the bed as he grips your hips and picks you up, hitting at that angle he knows gets you to the peak of your mountain. 

“Right there, baby! So, so good.” Your encouraging words spur him on to find a smooth albeit forceful rhythm as he jackhammers into you. His bed snapping against the wall with his brutal force.

He hovers over you, one elbow on the bed to hold him steady while his free hand pulls at your dress and yanks it down, exposing your bouncing tits. He gasps at the sight; jiggling and inviting, faint red marks from the last time he marked your body with his signature. 

For some reason, his mind takes him back to the party - how Sunghoon’s hands were all over you, touching you and trying to claim you. It makes him mad, hurt, down right deranged. 

He will never let anyone touch you every again. It’s only him. It will only every be him.

“Tell me I’m the only one,” he mutters as he kisses your neck, vulnerability goosepimpling over every part of his skin. To think that you could be taken away by someone else makes his heartbreak, he needs the reassurance, the promise, that you won’t leave him.

Bringing his head up and cupping his cheek you stare lovingly into his eyes as your guilty ones gaze back. “You’ll always be the only one. I don’t want anyone else. I need you. Only ever you.” 

Jaeyun’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he practically growls at your words, picking up the pace again, hammering into you all of his love and staking claim over you. You are his and he is yours. 

You’re trying not to moan loudly but he’s hitting all the right spots and it’s got you gasping for air, your lungs begging for a lick of oxygen that has been stolen due to your boyfriend’s touch. His hands are roaming your body, gripping and grasping at every part of you as he grounds himself with the feeling of you. The action will leave bruises and he’ll apologise in the morning but right now he just needs to feel you.

“Even if Sunghoon wanted you?” he asks quietly, still feeling that anxiety sit at the tip of his heart. He believes you, he knows when you say that he is the only one you want - you mean it. But his head speaks before he can stop himself, craving constant reassurance despite his trust in you.

You shake your head immediately. Never for a second would you even spare any time of day for the other, not when you had Jaeyun. You were going to have serious words with yourself once you’re done and curse yourself for even entertaining Sunghoon for a second - drunk or not. You made Jaeyun feel insecure, you’re the reason he’s doubting himself like this.  

“He could never love me the way you do,” you bring your lips to his ear, “and he certainly couldn’t fuck me the way you do.” 

Pure fire and passion rise through Jaeyun’s body and he piledrives into you at an unrelenting spead, eliciting a high pitched whine from your lips. He places your legs on his shoulders and drives in deeper, kissing your deepest crevice with the tip of him. 

“You take me so well, princess. I love you so fucking much.” Jaeyun might have been fucking you like he was a man possessed to ruin you, but his kind and nurturing personality will always come through.

He was perfect.

You clench around him, “Jaeyun, babe, I’m so close,” you pant out in ache as your nails begin digging into his arms, clawing at him to find some semblance of reality. You’re losing yourself to the stars with each stroke.

“Me too, baby.” he kisses you gently, “cum around my cock, show me how good I make you feel.” 

His dirty words strum the last string of your banjo as you come undone around his cock, your cunt squeezing and sucking him in like it needs him to be a permenant fixture inside of you. You chant his name into his neck as you bury your head, inhaling his scent as you finally lose yourself to your orgasm. 

Not letting up, Jaeyun still pounds into you, determined to fuck you though your high. “Good girl.” he mumbles into a kiss he plants lovingly into your hair. 

It doesn’t take long before he’s spilling into the condom, filling it up the way he wishes he could you. “Fuck, Y/N. I’m cumming, baby,” he bellows out, his grunts loud and swimming in an aching desperation as his hips still, holding you firmly onto him. 

Jaeyun’s lips move lazily against your damp skin, whispering soft I love yous in between the featherlight kisses trailing down your neck. He doesn’t want this moment to end - the warmth, the closeness, the way your bodies are tangled together in a haze of love and breathless exhaustion.

His hold on you tightens as he exhales shakily, his body shuddering as the last waves of pleasure run through him. His cock twitches one final time before he slips out of you, discarding the used rubber to his bin, aiming half-hazardly. He doesn’t like even this tiny bit of separation, so he quickly recovers, nuzzling against your chest, mouth ghosting over your heart as though he can soak in every ounce of love you have for him through the mere touch of his mlips.

Your fingers slip into his hair, stroking gently. “I love you, Jaeyun,” you murmur, voice still heavy with sleepiness and satisfaction.

Jaeyun lifts his head, his puppy brown eyes locking onto yours, filled with overwhelming love. Unwavering, unfiltered, and so deep that you can feel it crawl into your bones.

He smiles softly, almost shy, like he’s just as caught up in the weight of this moment the same as you. “I love you too, angel. So fucking much.” His voice is thick and before you can say anything else, he kisses you, slow and deep, sealing a silent promise between you both. “Let’s never fight again.”

You giggle against his lips, arms looping around his shoulders. “Never like that again.”

Just as Jaeyun presses his forehead to yours, basking your shared, tender moment, the door slams open.

“Sim Jaeyun, if you have a girl in here-”

Jaeyun’s dad’s voice cuts through the air like a knife, and time itself seems to halt.

Jaeyun yelps, moving at a record speed to grab the blanket and throw it over you to hide you completely, his body shielding yours from his dad’s intrusive gaze. Your entire face burns with mortification as you scramble to tuck yourself into the covers and laying still, wishing more than anything that the bed would just swallow you whole. You knew you were being loud but jesus fuck you thought Jaeyun would have at least locked the door.

His dad freezes in the doorway, eyes flickering between his son’s horrified expression and the very obvious lump beneath the blanket. 

“I told you, no girls in your room except, Y/N!”

Oh, the irony.

You peek your head out just enough to meet his gaze, offering the world’s most awkward wave. “Hi, Mr. Sim. How’s it going?”

Shocked, his dad stumbling back slightly. He was oblivious to your relationship even if he did have a sneaking suspicion. He just never thought this would be how he confirms it.

Jaeyun groans. “Dad, can you please leave?” His voice is strangled, his hands clutching the blanket for dear life. He’s always been so careful; made sure to be quiet, to lock the door, to never get caught. But you both just got too caught up in the moment that every other thing that existed outwith the two of you just…evaporated.

His dad pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply. “How long have you…how long has this been going on?”

Jaeyun swallows, refusing to meet his father’s eyes. “Uh. Two years.”

“Two years?” His dad’s voice pitches slightly, incredulous. “You’ve been dating for two years and you never told us?”

You chew on your lip, feeling the heat of embarrassment settle over your skin. Jaeyun, sensing your discomfort, slides his hand under the blanket to squeeze yours reassuringly.

“Dad, we weren’t trying to keep it a secret,” Jaeyun says, voice calmer now, steady. “It just…happened. And then the longer we waited, the weirder it felt to bring it up.”

Mr. Sim scoffs, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. You know we wouldn’t have stopped you from dating, right?” His tone softens as his eyes drift back to you. “And Y/N-”

You stiffen slightly, bracing yourself whatever scolding he has in store.

But instead of a lecture, a small smile tugs at his lips. “You know you’re like the daughter I always wanted.”

Your chest tightens with fondness. You’ve always been close to Jaeyun’s family - you practically live at his house at this point. His parents know your favourite food and snacks - keeping an army of them in their pantry. They understand your weird little habits like having thin cutlery or a certain glass depending on the drink and temperature. They invite you over for Christmas Eve, they comfort you when you’re upset. They love you. And deep down, you’ve always known you had their approval.

Still, hearing it out loud makes your eyes sting.

“Thank you, Mr. Sim.” Your voice is small, but sincere.

He nods, before letting out a tired sigh as he turns his attention back to Jaeyun. “Alright, get some sleep. I’ll talk to your mum about this. Hopefully she wont burst in with wedding books.” The joke lands flat because all of you know that it is not a joke. Jaeyun’s mother is typically fond of you and all three of you know that if she can make you officially part of her family, she will do it in an instant.

Mr. Sim turns to leave but pauses, glancing back at you. “And Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Please tell your parents.” He raises an eyebrow. “I’m sure they’ll take it well…”

You open your mouth to protest, but he’s already gone, closing the door behind him.

For a second, there’s silence. Then Jaeyun breaks it with a wheeze..

“Oh my god,” he gasps, clutching his stomach as laughter shakes his entire body. “That was…that was-” He dissolves into another fit of laughter, eyes tearing up in hilarity.

But you fail to see the funny side as you smack his chest, mortified beyond belief. “I am never coming back here again.” You bury yourself under the blanket, groaning.

Jaeyun grins, pulling you closer. “You’re literally my girlfriend. You have to come back.”

“Not if your dad kills me first for waking him up.”

He chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Nah didn’t you hear? You’re the daughter he never had.”

It tickles your heart as he mutter the words into your hair. Despite the embarrassment, your heart feels giddy - full. All the weight you’ve been carrying regarding the sneaking around and also the fight between you and the boy holding you close is all vanished. Gone. 

It makes you realise that you can overcome anything with Jaeyun.

You spend the rest of the night curled up in Jaeyun’s arms, tangled together beneath the sheets, whispering drowsy confessions of love until sleep finally pulls you under.

When you wake up the next morning, sunlight spills into the room, casting a golden glow over Jaeyun’s peaceful, smiling face. His lashes flutter slightly, his lips parted as he breathes in and out steadily. You watch him for a moment, warmth blooming in your chest like daffodils in spring.

Jaeyun’s phone vibrates at the desk and you quickly crawl over to retrieve it. You’re not one to pry but you see the seconder of the text before the content and immediately run cold.

Your mum.

2nd mumma: Your mum called and told me about you and Y/N. You are NEVER allowed to sleep over again, do you hear me? I am so angry that you both kept this from me

…Three dots appear. Then another message.

2nd mumma: I’m happy for you both. I love you. Come to dinner tonight so we can celebrate.

A small laugh escapes you as you snuggle deeper into Jaeyun’s embrace, letting the moment wash over you.

You’ve never been happier.

Lets hope you can keep it this way…

______

taglist: @yzzyhee @dollyyun @sunpov @dreamy-carat

@ioveseong @katarinamae @viagumi @jakeswifez

@shuichi-sama @m1kkso @no1likeneo @pshfan0812

@fancypeacepersona @hoonieyun @jaepen @lovingvoidgoatee

@parksunghoonsgf @capri-cuntz @yvnempire @mei3425

@enhastolemyheart @ikeulove @riribelle @nshmrarki

@firstclassjaylee @ikeuwoniee @ang0308 @jaykesgirl @addictedtohobi

[missaengg]

Falling for the Head of Onychinus

Day 8 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptations hosted by @xxsycamore Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Sylus x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, some fluff, car sex, hand jobs, semi-public sex, penis in vagina sex, alternate universe, not edited in the slightest... Prompts: Sex in a Vehicle | “Look at you, you're taking it so well.” A/N: OMG THIS TURNED OUT WAY LONGER THAN I EXPECTED, BUT I JUUUUST MADE IT FOR DAY 8!! 🙃 ao3 link here.

God, it was wrong. It was so wrong. You knew it was wrong. He was the head of Onychinus, the biggest crime syndicate in the N109 Zone, and you were a Hunter, sworn to uphold the law and bring him to justice. And yet… despite knowing how fucked you would be if The Hunter’s Association knew, you would find yourself once again in his bed or in a changing room or in a dark, seedy back alley or in his car moaning without abandon, writhing on his taut, muscular body with him deep inside of you. Because fuck, his touch did something to you. One look of that animalistic lust in his crimson eyes, and you melted into a pool of fervent heat practically begging for him to devour you until you were exhausted and spent.

Each and every time after you dragged your sinfully brutalized body back home, you would vow that would be the last time. Never again. Your resolve only lasting until he came around the next time.

Or so it was, until you realized you hadn’t seen a glimpse, not even a hint, of the infuriatingly arrogant crime lord in weeks though it felt like months. He had this annoying stalkerish tendency, and when he wasn’t within your direct view, you swore you would catch a glimpse of silver hair or hear the fluttering of a crow’s wings or catch the tail end of a sport motorcycle zooming off around the corner.

Nothing.

For weeks, nothing. Not a single silvery wisp. Not a single caw. Not the rumble of his bike. Not even when you were in his territory, patrolling the N109 Zone.

It was unlike him, and you were perturbed.

You had gotten used to looking for hints of his presence, used to catching tiny signs of him in the peripherals of your eyes, and just when you were starting to get restless, he would appear before you, with his smug smirk and sexy nonchalance, leaving you weak in the knees and shivering.

You checked the date on your phone, frowning once you calculated how long it’d actually been since you last saw the man, Sylus, how long it’d been since he had you bent over a grimy sink in the bathroom of a dingy club he found you in for Tara’s birthday, pushing your head against the foggy mirror and furiously thrusting into your mewling, sopping cunt.

One month. It had been one month and ten days since you last saw him, the longest it had been since he discovered you in the N109 Zone hunting him.

It occurred to you that you might actually miss him, or rather your body missed his delicious touch. After his absence, in the first week, you noticed a peculiar restlessness, a light stirring deep within your lower belly, a flutter of anxiety. In the second week, you felt a disconcerting thirst, a thirst that couldn’t be satiated no matter how many times you stroked yourself or slipped a few fingers inside. In the third week, you developed an aching throb between your legs, painful and distracting and only in want of release. In the fourth week, you found yourself occupied with thoughts of only one man, Sylus, dreaming about coming undone around his thick cock and waking up to a damp mess underneath. All to where you were now, feral and in heat, perpetually dripping, desperate for him to relieve you of this consuming obsession.

He was your addiction. And you were in withdrawal, frantically seeking your fix.

“Fucking bastard,” you huffed to yourself, still staring at your phone in the middle of sidewalk by a busy street within Linkon. “Stupid fucking bastard.”

“Who’s a stupid fucking bastard?”

You recognized that deep, silky voice. You’d recognize that deep, silky voice anywhere. You looked up from your phone to see Sylus lounging in an aggressive sports car, a Lamborghini Revuelto, stupidly expensive and powerful and luxurious and just like him.

“I thought I told you not to come around again,” you scowled, crossing your arms, hiding that you were in fact ecstatic he finally showed.

“That’s not what your body’s telling me, kitten,” Sylus smirked, his smug gaze salaciously trailing from your face to your thighs.

You looked down, cursing under breath at how firmly your thighs were clenched together. When did that happen? But good god, was that voice doing things to you. A blistering inferno was raging in your core threatening to overwhelm you in its desire to consume you whole. You could only hope your cheeks weren’t the same blazing furious shade of red as your needy cunt.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mmhmm.”

You stared at him defiantly, arms crossed, chin raised, waiting to see who would buckle first because it wouldn’t be you. It couldn’t be you.

“Are you going to get in the car or not?”

“No.”

“Are you sure about that?” he purred silkenly, a seductive mischievous gleam in his eyes, as if he were confident that you would ultimately end up in his bed that night.

No, you weren’t sure about that. You weren’t sure about that at all. You swallowed thickly, knowing it was over the moment he trapped you with those damn magnetic eyes. Your resolve was crumbling as quickly as he showed up in front of you wanting nothing more than to have him whisk you away and have his filthy, depraved way with you.

“I’m sure,” you hoarsely spit out, convincing no one, not even yourself.

Sylus said nothing. He simply sat there drumming his fingers on his leather steering wheel peering at you curiously with what appeared to be displeasure on his brow. You stubbornly stared back, feeling the seconds click away. A stalemate.

Finally, he clicked his tongue.. “Alright then, kitten. Another time then.” The car roared back to life.

You bit your lip, chewing on the soft flesh inside your lip. He couldn’t just leave, not like this, not after he disappeared for weeks leaving you a tight pretzel of a woman, but you also didn’t want to lose. Not again. The brake lights came on, a sign he’s shifted the car from ‘P’, and as he revved the engine–

“Wait!”

The revving stopped. Sylus, still facing forward, angled his head so he could peek at you.

“Why’d you disappear?”

Silence. You licked your lips and tried again.

“You were gone for over five weeks. Where were you?”

You watched Sylus with bated breath, heart pounding like a drum in your chest. His face betrayed nothing, not a hint of what he was feeling, what he was thinking.

Then a corner of his mouth curled up into a sly, cheeky smirk. There was a dark amusement dancing in his eyes, the force of which was rolling off of him in thick, heavy waves.

“Did you miss me?”

“No,” you whispered, more out of instinct, but also because you were loath to admit that you did miss him. You yearned for him more than you’d ever care to admit.

“Liar.”

Yes, you were.

“Get in the car, kitten.”

You hated it – and loved it – when he told you what to do, and he hated it – and loved it – when you refused to accede.

“Not… not until you tell me why you were gone for so long.”

Sylus huffed sharply. Your fists curled into fists, digging your fingernails into your palms in sharp mini lines of pain.

“I had to take care of business.”

“What kind of business?”

Sylus scowled, leveling his irritated glare on you. You forgot how intimidating the head of Onychinus could be, how ruthless the man who fucked you so tenderly could be.

“Nothing for you to be concerned about.”

“Sylus.”

A small, frustrated growl rumbled from Sylus who exhaled heavily, tapping the steering wheel with his pointer, and in an uncharacteristically subdued voice–

“I was injured, kitten.”

Something lurched in your heart when hearing his admission. Something about Sylus disappearing, about knowing he could potentially die on you someday unleashed an all-consuming fear you weren’t even aware you had. You blinked, surprised at the tears welling in your eyes, not enough to fall, but enough to display the dull ache that’s settled into your heart.

“Open the door.”

As soon as the door closed behind you, Sylus zoomed off in the direction of the illicit underground he called his home. You couldn’t keep your gaze off of him, scrutinizing his profile as if you were studying for an exam. He looked as he always did. There were no hints of scars or injuries. He wasn’t holding himself differently or hunched over in any kind of pain. Was it something mild if he recovered in five weeks?

“You should take a picture, kitten, it’ll last longer.”

Sylus still had that infuriating arrogant sneer on his face, but there was something a little more tender about the way he looked at you compared to the ravenous hunger from before. You looked out the window. It was dark and remote, one of the many abandoned roads on the way to the N109 Zone from Linkon City.

“Pull over,” you hoarsely commanded.

“Kitten?”

“Pull over,” you commanded once more forcefully.

Sylus wrinkled his brow in concern, but pulled the car off to the side, thankfully behind a grove of overgrown trees, not that it mattered. His car windows were tinted so dark no one would be able to see anything inside, especially at night.

“Turn off the engine.”

Sylus arched an eyebrow, but did as you asked without question. As soon as the car rumbled off, you were out of your seat, crawling into his lap the best you could despite the cramped interior, smashing your lips against him. Your tongue pressed urgently against him demanding entry, and when given, you wasted no time tasting him, exploring him with your tongue. Sylus hungrily pushed back, laying claim to your lips in a battle of dominating rapacious wills.

The seat fell back, and you squeaked as Sylus hauled you up like a ragdoll onto his lap. Once he had you settled and straddled across his hips, you dove back into fervently connecting your mouths in a dizzying torrent of kisses, losing yourself in the passionate flush of your bodies pressed together. His hands were in your hair, fingertips brushing your scalp as he threaded his fingers into knots, each brush a feverish tingle making its way down your spine and pooling into a slick arousal. Your fingers grasped blindly at his tailored, collared shirt, wrinkling the fabric with how hard you were gripping him. You wanted, no, needed him. You needed to feel the beating of his heart, the breath in his lungs, the warmth of his flesh. You needed to feel he was alive. You needed to fuck him.

Without separating, you began undoing the buttons of his shirt, fingers fumbling in your haste, the passion leaving your fingers clumsy and inept, struggling to pop the tiny plastic circles out of their buttonholes. You wondered if you should just rip the damn thing off of him, but then you had the fleeting thought that this shirt likely cost more than what you made in a single month.

“Let me.”

Sylus pulled his lips away and removed his hands from the tangled mess your hair had become, which you protested with a tiny whine, to do exactly what you considered, the heavy breathing filling the car interrupted by the clatter of flying buttons. Your eyes widened, the complete indifference of how easily he ruined his shirt spine-tingling arousing.

“Come here.”

Sylus guided you by the back of your head back down to meet him, this time capturing your lips with a softer, slower kiss, though it didn’t stay soft or slow for long, the intensity building back into a disorienting haze. His hands slipped under your sweater, leaving a trail of lingering fire as they roamed eventually finding their way to your breasts. You moaned into his mouth, his fingers pulling and pinching you sensitive. You ached for him, your slick arousal pooling in the apex of your legs. You ground yourself against the prominent erection in his pants, the friction of the fabric catching on his outline and dragging across your damp slit sending jolt after jolt of electricity up your back intensifying the pleasure you were drowning in.

“Fuck,” Sylus roughly grunted, the rocking of your hips against him chipping away at his composure.

Something inside of you snapped when Sylus grunted. You reached for his pants in a frenzy, undoing the button and yanking them down, whining when you couldn’t until Sylus lifted his hips up for you to free what you wanted, his throbbing cock. You abandoned your quest at pulling down his bottoms when you saw it spring free. Wrapping a hand around it, you thumbed the precum leaking out of his tip rubbing it on his frenulum, reveling in the sharp hiss he expelled at your teasing. You stroked him, slowly, sensually, gripping and releasing as you moved up and down.

“Kitten,” Sylus rasped, grasping your chin and planting a sloppy kiss. “Let me feel you.”

You kissed him back, nibbling along his bottom lip, absolutely tickled by the drunk, dazed look in his eyes, the way he was looking up at you through half-lidded eyes. Your chest was heaving, your breaths heavy with want. Hiking up your skirt, you pulled your underwear to the side, too impatient to contort yourself into a different position to pull them down. You rocked your slick pussy against his engorged cock, making sure your arousal coated him well, and it had to coat him well otherwise he wouldn’t be able to slide in due to his sheer size. Inhaling, you lowered yourself onto him, taking an inch of him at a time waiting to adjust to how deliciously he stretched you to your limits. Each inch sent Sylus groaning – shuddering, strangled groans, and when you finally bottomed out, the guttural grunt he uttered sent you keening, the combination of his pleasure mixed with your own sensation of being full having you see stars.

You moved gradually, gyrating against his pelvis, his pelvic mound stimulating your clit, his tip tapping your cervix just right. Sylus was gripping the sides of your hips, his large hands dwarfing your sides. His eyes were fixed on where you ended and he started, mesmerized by the way your cunt moved against him.

“Look at you, you’re taking it so well,” he breathed, voice thick with lust and desire.

He bit his lip, his eyes growing darker and darker with a savage glint. You’d seen that glint in his eyes before. It was always before he’d lose control, rutting into you as if he couldn’t get enough, when he’d let his carnal needs take over and claim you as his own.

“Fuck, kitten.”

He gripped you so tightly you let out a wanton cry, and you could only helplessly bounce on his lap when he took over, pummeling up into you fervidly, mewling cries falling off your lips as the sound of slapping skin filled the car. He was driving into you relentlessly, and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head, your mouth falling open into a sultry pout. He was driving into you so hard, you were sure your cervix was going to be bruised tomorrow morning, but you didn’t care, he was intoxicating. You were drunk off his cock, addicted to his cock, and no matter how many times he drilled into you, no matter how many times he brought you to climax, you knew you’d be back for another taste.

“Ngh… Sylus!”

You were close, so close. Your body was taut, every nerve on fire, the quiver of ecstasy building into a crescendo. Sylus nestled his head into your neck, licking and sucking on your tender skin, and then you reached the peak, shuddering uncontrollably, convulsing around him in a cacophony of dizzying bliss. You could barely see, riding the high of your climax while Sylus continued to rut into you rapidly, the feverish overstimulation rippling through you.

And then Sylus burst, his cock spasming in your warm pussy, flooding himself into you, spurts of his cum filling you with his warmth, all while calling your name in a throaty whisper in your ear.

Panting heavily, you slumped against his shoulder feeling his climax seeping out of you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, slick from sweat, and he planted soft kisses behind your ear, his other hand gently brushing back your hair, running his fingers through it to tame the mess he made.

You pushed off of him so that you were sitting upright, taking in every detail you could of his flushed, dazed face.

“Did you almost die?”

Sylus flinched, your question startling him out of his blissful reverie.

“Kitten, what do you mean?”

“When you said you got injured, did you almost die?”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you asked the question, unsure if you were ready to hear the answer, heart pounding, brows knit together. Sylus gave you a lopsided grin, tenderly placing his hand on your cheek.

“No, kitten, I didn’t almost die.”

“Then why were you gone for weeks?”

You knew you sounded angry, but you weren’t angry, not really, or maybe you were a little. But more than that, you were worried. You were worried about the man you were supposed to be hunting, the man you weren’t ever supposed to fall for, the man who had the ability to derail your entire life in his hands.

“Because, kitten, I didn’t want you to worry.”

Your mouth dropped open. You expected a lot of things, but you didn’t expect that. Not that. Not that what you were sure was just animalistic fucking had turned into something else entirely, not just for you, but him as well. Not that the infamous head of Onychinus might actually care for you.

“That’s silly,” you muttered, a faint blush dusting your cheeks, averting your gaze from him.

“As silly as you worrying about me?” Sylus chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and tantalizingly through you.

You pouted, because it was, this whole thing was silly. You were a Hunter for god’s sake. This was unprofessional and wrong and fucked up and yet so deliciously wonderful and sinfully good and thrilling.

“I hate you.”

“I like you too.”

You sighed, annoyed, but that didn’t stop you from leaning down and snuggling back into his chest hearing his heartbeat in your ear, the sound soothing your anxiety. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to let go in his embrace. There was a lot you had to think about, but tonight… tonight all you wanted was to be in his arms in his bed.

Tomorrow. You would think about everything else tomorrow.

[hyuckysunflower]

Looking For You; A Haechan Fic

Synopsis; Y/N, newly hired graphic designer for NCU, meets Donghyuck, NCU's president's notorious playboy son, during a night out in celebration. Six weeks after a heated night of passion, Y/N finds herself in a hard situation when her period is late and she's met with a positive pregnancy test. After coming to a dead end on finding the handsome stranger that went by 'Haechan', she anxiously goes through the beginning of her pregnancy with the support of her closest friend Renjun. That is, until she meets this nortious 'Haechan' at a company Christmas Party. Unaware that he is the presidents son, she corners him the elevator and tells him their situation, assuring him that he doesn't have to be involved but she wants him to put in writing of him relinquishing his rights. Haechan proposes the idea that they enter into a contractional arrangement. One where he gets to show his father that he is taking life seriously and settling down, and Y/N gets financial support. Y/N agrees to his terms eventually after Haechan has some choice words with her (i'm so sorry guys he's a major dick in the beginning) but not before giving him her terms of him actively involving himself in the pregnancy, not just financial support. The nine months of pregnancy is an up and down battle for Y/N and Haechan. What is there to expect when one person is brought into the relationship before he's ready and another is actively trying to hold what little control she has on her life together?

genre; preg!reader, chaebol!Haechan, major dick haechan but i promise he gets better guys, angst, fluff, some suggestive themes, slice of life, appearance of dream and aespa members, minor pregnancy complications, some childhood trauma, it gets so sweet by the ending, GUYS ITS NOT PROOF READ

Word Count; 22,477 (wooooww i didnt hit my 25k mark but DAYUM, my longest to date)

“No, nonono. What?” you stared down at the two blue lines staring back at you. How could this happen? I mean, you KNOW how it can happen but like, how? Why now? You had the perfect five step plan. First, graduate college. Check. You had just gone through four grueling years getting your bachelors degree in Graphic Designing. That led you to step two, getting a job at a big company that you were interning at. Check. You started with NCU at the end of your third year, staying with them as an intern and proving your capabilities to earn a solid position among their team. You figured the first two steps would be the hardest to complete out of the five. How wrong you were. 

Step three through five goes as follows: start dating someone nice, romantic, and handsome. Someone who would take care of you but still allow you to take care of them. Someone who wasn’t ashamed to be seen with you. Who loved you for you and not an idea they wanted you to portray. You’d move onto the next step of getting engaged. Professing your undying and unchanging love for each other. Through sickness and health as they say. Your life would blossom as you take the next step of moving in together, getting married. You’d navigate coexisting in each other's spaces and learning stuff about each other you’d wouldn’t know otherwise. You’d start your family first by adopting a puppy together. Realising that you guys could love something outside of the bubble that is you and them. Lastly, the big and final step, creating life together. You had always dreamed of being a mother. You wanted to feel what that unconditional love felt like and in return be able to give it too.

You looked back down at the test resting in your hands. You sighed as you rubbed your hand over your stomach. Something so small has already started to impact your life. Your heart raced and you felt a lump rise up your throat. Your eyes burned. Are these happy tears or sad tears? You had no idea, but what you did know is that you needed someone. You sat the pregnancy test down on your bathroom counter before heading to your room and grabbing your phone off your night stand. You clicked what was probably the only number you had in your phone and waited as it connected.

“Renjun? Can you come over please? I need you,” you spoke quietly as a sob broke free from the constraints of your chest.

6 weeks earlier;

“Congratulations Y/N for securing the bag!” Karina cheered as a few other girl friends joined in, clinking glasses together as you guys shot back the sting of tequila lime shots. You squeezed your eyes shut, the burn making its way down your throat before hitting straight to your stomach. You sucked in your breath.

“Aww thank you,” you pouted, feeling overwhelmed by their love and support. “I wouldn’t be able to do it without you guys! You helped me prove myself and for that I’m forever grateful,” You leaned forward and gave Winter and Karina a big hug, giggling as they tried to pry your arms off them. They had convinced you to go out with them tonight. You were typically the homebody of the group, much preferring to stay at home and have a glass of wine than to go out to a bar with booming music that seemed to rattle your chest. But you can admit, it felt nice. You let your body relax, swaying back and forth as the music beats through your body. You were lost in the rhythm until you felt a pair of hands land on your hips, grasping you lightly but firm enough for you to notice that they were there.

You felt a breath on your neck before a velvety voice rang in your ears, so soft you were surprised you could hear it over the music. “I couldn’t help but notice you over here. Hey, pretty girl. Can I have this dance?” you chuckled as you slowly rotated in his arms to face him and wow was he breathtaking. You paused briefly, facing him, to admire his face. It looked like the gods had specifically spent their time chisling out every angle, both sharp and round, to make sure it was perfect. His eyes locked with yours, warm and inviting, as a little smirk spread across his heart shaped lips. “You like what you see pretty?” he cooed at you. Your cheeks flushed before you flashed a flirtatious smile his way.

“Usually when people ask for a dance, it's to something… slower,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, clasping them against themselves. “But I'm not against this either,” you pressed your body against his, feeling the outline of his chest against yours. The smirk stayed on his face as his hands traveled down your sides. His fingertips dug into the exposed skin underneath the hem of your dress against the outside of your thighs before dragging up, slowly as if to memorize the way it felt beneath them. One hand rested on your lower back just above your ass while the other rested just below it, cupping and squeezing your ass every few seconds, kneading the soft flesh.

You closed your eyes and sighed, rolling your head to the side before opening them and looking at the man in front of you. His eyes were half lidded, starting at the junction where your neck met your exposed shoulder. They lingered on the thin strap of your tight red dress. He admired the way it hugged all your curves. The sides were cinched up, the strings dangled, tickling your thighs. He leaned forward, his breath lingered on the side of your neck before his lips connected with it.

It felt like electricity was shot through your veins. You inhaled a quick gasp as he chucked against your neck, it rumbled in his chest. He peppered a few more kisses across your neck before traveling to your exposed shoulder where he left a few more. You unclasped your hands and let one roam to the nape of his neck. Your fingers tug at the slightly messy hair do. He let out an exhale against your neck. The action sent goosebumps all up and down your arms and chest.

You pulled back from him slightly, glancing around you to see your friends engaged in their own fun, dancing and moving around. You looked back at the man in front of you. You smiled, slightly biting your lip before speaking. “You see, I like you,” he hummed as he eyed your lip caught between your teeth. “Why don’t you tell me your name and we can get out of here? Take the party back to your place maybe?” He looked up, meeting your eyes before flashing a dazzling smile that showed off his perfectly straight white teeth.

“You, pretty, can call me Haechan,” his hands rubbed down your arms before grasping your hands lightly. “And I would love to take you home.”

Present;

Renjun sat at the bar in your kitchen, staring down at the test that rested between his fingers. He had an unreadable expression on his face. I guess it’s something you can appreciate. If he was freaking out, you’re not sure if you’d be able to keep together what little composure you managed to put up after you got off the phone with him earlier. Your fingers nervously fiddled with the hem of your shorts, twisting the fabric between the finger tips.

“I have to call the doctor's office and set up an appointment. Junnie,” you called out to him as he looked at you, a small gentle smile on his face that told you you would be able to get through this. “Would you go with me? Or at least sit with me while I make the call?” you stopped messing with your shorts and moved to sit next to him at the bar.

He laid his hand on top of yours, grasping it slightly. “Of course Y/N. I’ll be here with you through it all,” he slid your phone towards you, unlocked it and set it in your hands. “Go ahead. I’m here with you.” you blinked away the tears threatening to fall from your eyes, nodding before grabbing the phone from him and looking up the nearest OBGYN.

You patiently got through the service menu before you were connected with the front desk. You explained to them the reason for your call, giving them your name and birthdate. You worked your way through the call, looking to Renjun for support. He squeezed your hand, grounding you, reminding you that everything is going to be okay. “Okay. Mhm. Yes, that sounds good to me. I’ll see you then. Thank you.” you slowly hung up the phone and let it rest in your hand on the counter. “I’ll see them in about three weeks. I don’t know why they would make me wait that long,” you grumbled as you set your phone down on the bar and rested your head in your hands.

You felt Renjun’s delicate fingers rub your shoulders, adding the perfect amount of pressure at just the right spots that helped you relax. You could already feel the pressure lifting from your head. “Hey, it’s going to be alright. They’ll take good care of you. Do you know when this happened?” he treated the question lightly and you could tell that. You rested your hand over his hand that laid on your shoulder and nodded. “Was everything consensual?” you eyes shot open at that as you whipped your head around to look at him.

“Yes! Oh my god. I understand your concern but it was completely in my control. I was the one that suggested we went back to his place. He was such a gentleman. He never did anything without me specifying what was and wasn’t okay,” your cheeks flushed at the memory.

Haechan had you sprawled on your back on his fluffy gray comforter. You were left in just your panties and him his dress pants. He teased his fingers along the hem of your lacy red thong. A low groan escaped his chest, “wore these just for me pretty? I'm honored but they won't be on for long. Do you want me to take them off or fuck you while they stay on?” He leaned forward, pressing a chast kiss to your temple as he finger teased your clit, not enough pressure to build you up but just enough to get you worked up.

“Off,” you spoke through an exhaled gasp. He made a noise of disapproval.

“What was that?” he chuckled against your chest, leaving wet patches down. You cupped his cheeks and brought his face up to yours. Tenderly you pressed your lips against his. His lips molded against your effortlessly, a perfect mesh of tenderness but full of intensity. He slowly licked your bottom lip and you complied, tilting your head and deepening the kiss. You pulled back from him, both yours and his pupils blown wide with anticipation.

You turned his head just enough so you would rest your lips against his ear. “I want you to take them off of me and fuck me Haechan. Please, I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

“Did you guys use protection? I know we both went through sex ed. It may have been shitty but there were at least some useful parts in it,” Renjun exhaled, his voice cutting through your distraction.

“Yes! We did! I promise. That’s why I don’t know how this could’ve happened,” there was a small pause in the conversation. It wasn’t awkward or anything like that. Renjun knew you well enough to know when you needed a second to think to yourself. Pulling out your phone you opened up various social media apps. “He said his name was Haechan so maybe I could find him on facebook or instagram? Oh! And I remember that he mentioned something about working for a company.” Renjun nodded, pulling out his own phone as well. You opened up Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, even reddit and craigslist but there was absolutely no social media presence for him.

You looked over at Renjun with a pleading look on your face, he shook his head. “I’m sorry Y/N, but he may have given you a fake name. That or he doesn’t believe in technology which is unheard of in this day and age,” you let a groan out as you laid your head down on the bar.

“I have to grab something to eat and get ready for work,” you said more so to yourself than to Renjun. He got up and started making you some toast and grabbing a glass to fill up with orange juice.

“I’ll make you breakfast, go ahead and get ready. I’m just going to make something light. This is what my sister ate when she was pregnant with my nephew. Apparently it helps to not eat anything greasy or heavy.” you got up from the stool at the bar and wrapped your arms around Renjuns waist, giving him a hug.

“I appreciate you so much, you have no idea. I would be lost without you Junnie,” he chuckled and patted your arm, motionion for you to go get ready. Everything you said was true. You really would be lost without him. He came into your life at such a dark and vulnerable moment, he was like the light that showed through the clouds on a stormy day. Your parents had just finalized their divorce your second year of middle school. Growing up, all you ever witnessed was your parents' fight. You honestly couldn't even tell if there was ever a point in your life that they truly loved each other.

I guess you could say you always kinda blamed yourself for the fall in their marriage. You could tell from photos before you were born that they truly looked in love. They had full photo albums dedicated to their travels in their early twenties. That must've stopped when you were born because you could never remember a time you guys went out as a family for any sort of event or vacation. 

Holidays were always intense. It was always the one time where your parents never fought but you could tell in their body language that they would rather be anywhere else than together with you. It took some late night calls back and forth between you and Renjun and various reassurances that the fault lied with your parents, not you.

Your parents' relationship always lingered in the back of your mind whenever you thought about your own relationships in life, both platonic and romantic. You had only ever been in one serious romantic relationship and that was with a boy named Mark in your second year of college. He was as sweet as they came but he was busy. He was an aspiring musician, and his love for it was so intense, it was hard for him to spare some of his time for you. You never took it personally but knew that you wanted to be in the type of relationship that you never felt like a burden or a second choice. The breakup was mutual. You explained your feelings and he understood why you decided to end it. He had admitted that he realised a few weeks before that he wasn't ready for a serious relationship either.

Standing in front of the mirror in only your bra and panties, you stared at your body. Your eyes linger on your stomach, watching the way it expands with every breath. Slowly you turned to the side and rubbed your hands over the flat surface, imagining the life that had started to bud. It’s funny, there's practically nothing there but you can feel it. You can feel the way the path of your future is changing and although you're scared, the tiniest bit of curiosity peeks through. All the possibilities of your future with a little one starts to find its way into the cracks of your mind.

You shake your head, pushing back the thoughts. You shouldn’t feel so excited about something so scary and unknown, yet as your eyes stay focused on your stomach, you can’t help but feel a small smile grace your lips.

“Hey!,” your coworker Karina popped her head up and over the divider between your cubicle, eyes wide with a bright smile plastered on her face. Your heart jumped straight up to your throat, tears immediately pricking your eyes and spilling over. You sobbed. “Woah! Y/N, what's wrong? Are you okay?” she rushed around the divider and stepped into your box of unstable emotions. She grabbed a few tissues from your partial empty tissue box that sat catty corner to your monitor. Her rushed hands knocked it over as she grabbed a few and dabbed your eyes.

“No, no you're okay Rina!” you spoke out between gasps as you grabbed the tissues from her hands and blew your nose. “It’s not your fault. My emotions have been crazy lately. Blame it on Aunt Flow,” you chuckled, tossing the used tissues into the trash can at your feet. Karina stared at you, her eyes narrowing slightly as her fingers tapped a rhythm on your desk, almost as if she could see straight through your lie. And honestly, maybe she could. You’ve never been a strong liar. She clicked her tongue against her teeth, but nevertheless dropped the topic.

“Okay,” she dragged the word out in a sing-song tone. “I just finished my work for the day,” she checked the time on her phone. “Are you close to being done? They just announced the date for this year's Christmas party and I need to get a new outfit!” she shimmed her shoulders a little bit, you chuckled.

“Yeah, I just have to submit this draft and pack up,” you clicked around on your screen, finalizing the last edit before emailing the draft to your supervisor. With the year coming to a wrap, NCU’s workload has been almost double the usual amount. Your department was tasked with designing the magazine for this years ‘Seasonal Wrap Up’. It’s basically a summary of the events that the company has hosted throughout the year. Your spread, however, was focused on the future of the company. You had conducted a few interviews with various project managers ranging from your department all the way up to the President's office. Let’s just say, you got your fair share of gossip that you had to try your best not to make obvious through your writing. “I need a gossip sesh girl,” you turned your head, observing your surroundings before leaning in closer to Karina to whisper. “I have news on the president's son.”

“You’re kidding!” you shushed her quickly, a few people around you turning their hands from their computers and staring. You shyly waved your hand hoping to dismiss their glances, grabbed her hand, letting out a laugh as you dragged her towards the elevator. Once you were both in the elevator she turned to face you, giving you a look that screamed ‘you’re so spilling your guts when you get out of here’.

Once you both made your way into the first boutique, Karina bee lined towards one of the racks with seasonal dresses ranging from classy blacks to the cliche Mrs. Clause dresses. You came up next to her, flicking through the various dresses. “Okay,” you started immediately gaining her attention as she momentarily stopped her browsing. “So I heard from Giselle that she overheard arguing from the president's office. Apparently, it was so loud most of the people in the office stopped working. I’m talking so quietly you could hear the person next to you breathing.”

Her mouth was hung open in disbelief. “Well? What were they talking about? Barely anyone has even seen his face.”

“She said that they heard the president yelling about how he needs to take his dealings with the business with the company seriously. He was all like ‘Donghyuck, you need to know that your future isn't just about the next party you can go to or the women you can hook up with!’ It was bad.” Karina laughed at your busted impression of the president. “What’s weird is that she said he came out of the president's office without a care in the world. Like there wasn’t a shred of emotion on his face,” you shook your head, flipping through the dresses until you came across a light sweater dress. 

It was beautiful, a nice dark red. It looked comfortable too. Your eyes glanced over the intricate design of the material, there were small glistens of gold embedded into it. It would be perfect to wear, it’s loose enough that it wouldn’t squeeze across your stomach. Besides the emotional outbursts and the occasional food eversons the past three almost four weeks, you’ve started to get bloated. Tomorrow is your confirmation appointment, and although the past few weeks have dragged on, you were nervous. There was still no trace of this ‘Haechan’ guy. You’d almost be convinced that he was merely a fragment of your imagination if not for the little bean growing inside you.

“-his is the one!” you snapped out of your thoughts when Karina held up something from the rack. It was a gorgeous bright red dress, a faux leather material. “It would look gorg with a pair of red pumps and some silver accessories!” You smiled as she held the dress up to her body, twisting back and forth. You agreed, she would look absolutely stunning in it.

You stood at the doctor’s office desk, hands trembling slightly as you told the receptionist your first and last name. “Here you go Miss Y/L/N, this is some paperwork that needs to be filled out before we call you back. It’s just a brief medical history,” you nodded and thanked her before grabbing the clipboard from her and taking a seat next to Renjun in the waiting room.

“I’m so nervous right now,” you exhaled as you filled out the paperwork to the best of your abilities. Renjun patted your thigh, the action relaxing you slightly. “Thank you, again, for coming here with me. I really needed moral support.”

“Anytime Y/N. I’m here for you,” he smiled at you. A small gentle smile that helped calm the fire in your stomach. After what felt like hours, a nurse opened up the door to the waiting area and called your name. You shakily got up onto your legs, brushing your hands off on your thighs. “Do you need me to go back there with you?” you shook your head.

“No, they’re going to have me strip and I don't want to traumatize you,” you gave him a chuckle, patting his shoulder as he nodded and watched you make your way to the door with the nurse. Before walking back there with her you turned around to look at him. “I’ll message you if I need anything.”

After the door shut behind you the nurse spoke, “Is the daddy staying in the lobby?” she chuckled. You felt a little awkward. Is that something a nurse would say? Not every woman comes in with a daddy for her baby.

“Um..” you stared, cringing at how awkward it sounded. “He’s just a close friend of mine, he's not the father.” The nurse was quiet. You hoped it wasn’t in silent judging and more out of embarrassment. The walk wasn’t long to the doctor's office. Once inside the nurse took some of your vitals.

“So we’re here for a check up?”

“It’s my first appointment so I think it may be more just confirming what my pregnancy test said,” you chuckled awkwardly. The nurse hummed, nodding as she typed away on the computer.

“And when was your last period?” you pulled out your phone to check the calendar.

“Umm, the last day of it was around October 4th I think. I conceived around the 13th I believe,” you tried to best to give her as much information as possible. You’d rather awkwardly ramble then give two word answers that would get you guys nowhere.

“Alright. I put your information into the computer. We’ll go get you settled for a urine test, and then after that we’ll proceed with the scan,” you followed her out of the room and down towards the bathroom. The nurse handed you a wet towelette pouch and a cup. “You’ll want to wipe with the towelette first and pee a little into the toilet before the cup. You’ll set your cup in the cabinet in the bathroom.” you nodded at the nurse and walked to the bathroom to settle your business.

You found yourself back into the doctor's office after completing the urine test. Before leaving the room, the nurse handed you a cloth and explained that you needed to strip down and wait on the exam table for the dr to come in. As you sat on the table, you kicked your legs back and forth and waited until you heard a knock at the door. The doctor walked in shortly after. “Good evening Miss Y/L/N. My name is Dr. Kim. I hear we’re here for a confirmation exam?” you nodded. She sat down on the stool and rolled over to your bedside, putting on some latex blue gloves. “If you can just go ahead, lay back and relax, we’ll lay your legs on the stands here so that you can relax easier. I’ll be using a transducer,” she held up a wand-like object that was wrapped in a sleeve. “All it is, is a scanner of sorts that I will insert into you vaginally. With it being so early in your pregnancy, this will give us an accurate reading for the gestational age of the baby.”

“Oh, um okay.” She put a generous layer of some jelly like lube on the transducer before positioning herself in between your legs.

“Alright Miss Y/N, this shouldn't hurt but please let me know if it gets too uncomfortable. To your right is the screen that we’ll see the little bean on,” Dr. Kim smiled at you before slowly inserting the transducer into you. You inhaled quickly, the cold of the lube shocking you slightly. It wasn’t painful at all. If anything, like the doctor said, it was mildly uncomfortable. You looked to the screen where it showed a mix of black and grey. You felt a light tug as she moved it around. And just like that, a white speck popped up on the screen.

“And there it is. There's your little jelly bean!” you stared at the screen amazed as the little white blob flickered. She clicked around a bit on the screen highlighting spots before measuring the length of the tiny thing inside you. “That flickering you’re seeing is the heart beat. This early in the pregnancy we try not to record the sound. Instead what we'll do is measure the flickering. That will give us the heart rate,” you saw the diagrams pop up on the screen. “The BMP looks to be 176. A nice and healthy scan,” she smiled to herself before clicking around on the screen some more.

“Is there any way you can tell me about how far along I am? From my last period and the time I believed I conceived, it would be around ten weeks.”

“Absolutely! Judging the size of the fetus I would say about ten weeks three days. Of course this could change slightly. The gestational age is subjective. Your due date would be around July eleventh.” you nodded your head, thanking her. She pulled the wand out of you and handed you some wipes to wipe off the lube left over. “The scans are printing out now. In the meantime, I'm going to send you down stairs to the first floor to get a blood test run. It’s just to confirm the health of you and baby.”

Your face paled at the thought of giving blood. As if sensing your uneasiness, the doctor handed you your scans, distracting your thoughts. You stared down at photos laying in your hands, your finger tracing over the white blob. It seemed unreal. This little thing has been the cause of all your emotional bursts. You laughed, tears pricking your eyes. Speaking of emotional bursts.

“Ah, yeah that's very common. Your emotions will be out of whack for this first trimester. Have you been experiencing any morning sickness?” you shook your head, wiping your eyes with your sleeves.

“Not really. I’ve had a little nausea but nothing like that. I haven't thrown up, it’s just the gross feeling of needing to,” you laughed, setting the sonograms down beside you.

“I’ve got you scheduled for the end of February. You’ll be around twenty weeks and that is when we do the anatomy scan. We’ll also get you scheduled for a glucose test right before then,” she threw away her gloves and walked towards the curtain in the room. “I’ll leave you here to get dressed. Just come out here when you’re dressed and I’ll get you sent down to the first floor with your appointment reminder cards.” As soon as she left the room, you redressed yourself and made your way out to the lobby.

When you made it to the lobby, Renjun was already up to his feet running towards you. “Hey, how’d it go? Is everything okay?” you could see the concern on his face as he held you shoulders gently so that you’d face him. You smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, everything is perfect. I’m about ten weeks and three days. They’re sending me down to the first floor to get blood taken for testing,” you exhaled slightly. “Could you be there to hold my hand?” you know it sounded pathic. You felt pathic. You have never been a fan of needles, even in your adolescents. You remembered back to when you were younger, going to the doctors for flu shots, how you would kick and scream to fight the nurses off. They’d have to bring extra hands to keep you at bay.

“Of course, Y/N. As long as you don’t take any of my fingers off,” he moved his hands down to lace your fingers together. Renjun had always been this affectionate with you, even back in middle school. It was a big difference from how you’d watch him interact with his other friends. If you were being honest, you appreciated it. You’d always been timid and he’s held you with such a gentle touch the entire time you have known him.

Both of you made your way down the elevator, hitting the first floor before the queasiness started to settle in your stomach. Every step towards the office they described to you made you feel like your feet were made of lead. “Damnit,” you curse and Renjun snapped his head towards you, eyes full of concern. “If I don’t push through this now, the rest of the pregnancy is only going to get worse.” you tried to give yourself a half assed pep talk. It didn’t really work.

“Hi! Y/N?” a lady with bright eyes and a smile that sparkled greeted you. You nodded, opting to do that instead of speaking for fear of throwing up all over the poor lady. “Come this way. You can take a seat right there.” you followed her hands over and took a seat in a light blue chair, it had one singular armrest on the right side.

“Is there any way my friend here can hold my hand? I’m not the biggest fan of needles and I really don’t want to be difficult for you,” you let out an awkward excuse for a laugh.

“Oh absolutely! Come on over here. You can hold her left hand, I'll be drawing from the right side.” Renjun made his way to your left before sitting down in the guest chair and lightly grabbing your hand. His fingers gave you a gentle squeeze, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles soothingly. The nurse put on some gloves and gathered her equipment, you quickly averted your eyes and looked at Renjun’s eyes. He gave you a smile and some words of encouragement. “Alright, you will just feel a small pinch. I’ll go as quickly as I can.” She tied a rubber band around your upper arm and rubbed the inside of your elbow with her fingers.

You closed your eyes and squeezed Renjun’s hand tightly in preparation. You felt the pinch of the needle into your right arm. You didn’t dare to open your eyes to see the progress, so you spoke. “Renjun, how close are we to being done?”

“She’s already collected four vials. I think she only needs two more. It’s going so quickly, you’ll be done before you even know it.” His smooth voice calmed your nerves.

“And we’re done!” she put a cotton ball and bandaid over your arm before taking the rubber tie off. “You did great! It should only take a few days to run the tests. You can access your results through your online portal. If there are any concerns we’ll give you a call. Usually no calls from us means good news,” she laughed as she disposed of her gloves and sharps. “Take a few minutes to gather yourself, we don’t want you passing out!”

After a few minutes, Renjun helped you up and assisted you out of the building towards his car. Once seated in the passenger seat, you pulled out the sonograms and handed them to him. “This little white blob is the baby. Dr. Kim said that it’s heart beat is nice and strong at 176,” you had a bounce to your voice and Renjun noticed it.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better Y/N. Did she say when your next appointment is?” you nodded your head and pulled out the appointment cards they gave you at the front desk.

“My next one is at the middle and end of February. They’ll have me take my glucose test and the anatomy scan. How did that go for your sister? What is the anatomy test?” You tried your best not to overwhelm Renjun with questions. You were an only child so you didn’t grow up around many if any woman at all, let alone pregnancy.

“My sister said the glucose test sucked. I think it’s a test you take where you drink a really sugar heavy drink and they draw your blood for diabetes. As for the anatomy, I’m not sure what all they do, but I know you get to find out the gender then. I remember my sister being super excited about that.” you nodded your head, putting your sonograms back into your purse. Your phone chimed and you pulled it out. It was a message from Winter.

‘Hey! I just got my outfit for the Christmas Partyyyyy. It’s next tuesday. I already talked to Karina but we were going to meet up before the party and pregame. You in?’ you cringed at the thought. There’s no good way to decline the invitation without being suspicious.

“Hey Junnie, can I use you as an alibi so that I can turn down my coworkers' invitations to pregame before the Christmas Party next tuesday?” He turned down the radio to hear you more clearly.

“Go ahead, I don’t mind. What are you going to do at the Christmas Party?” his eyes stayed focused on the road as he made his way back to your apartment.

“I’m not sure actually. I just know from Karina and Winter that it’s a pretty big deal. Spirits are always high at the end of the year because everyone has finished their work before the new year starts,” he hummed.

“Okay, just be safe please. Call me if you need anything during it alright?” you smiled at him, leaning to turn the music up slightly.

“I will Junnie, I promise. You’re my emergency contact, you know.” His laugh rang out in the small confinements of the car, melting your heart.

You were feeling overwhelmed as you sat at one of the various tables in the ballroom of the venue the company rented out. They wasted no cost on it too, it was gorgeous. There were various Christmas trees adorned with cranberry garland and beautiful silver, gold, and red ornaments. The tables around you were grand, white tablecloths and seat covers adorned the surfaces. The centerpieces of each table ranged from golden candles, mistletoe, and white and red amaryllis.

It seemed like almost everyone employed at NCU was there. Only being in the company for roughly over a year, you only recognized those you worked in close quarters with. Karina and Winter were mingling with Yizhou and Giselle at the buffet table, all four of them giggling over drinks. They had asked you earlier if you wanted to join them, however the quickest lie you could come up with to avoid a drink was you being on new medication from your last doctor's appointment. You could argue that it's not technically a lie, a baby gives off the same symptoms as funky medication. You chuckled to yourself as you sipped your water, eyes glancing at your surroundings before spotting on someone familiar.

Your heart jumped to your throat, immediately speeding up as you recognized the silhouette of someone that has been particularly hard to find. You immediately pushed your chair back and jumped to your feet, you felt light headed at the sudden change in blood pressure. You balanced yourself at the table, eyes fixed at the man you’ve been tirelessly searching for the past month. He stood at the elevator pressing the button leisurely, one hand resting in his pocket.

You sped walked as fast as you could to try and catch him before he entered the elevator and the doors closed. He walked onto the platform and turned around, that's when your suspicions were correct. You flung your arm into the elevator cabin, blocking the door from closing at the last second. There, right in front of you was Haechan. He looked up from his phone, face blank of any emotion. He raised his eyebrow as if to ask what the hold up was. You stepped onto the platform quickly.

As soon as the doors closed you turned to face him. “You are an extremely hard man to find. I didn’t take you for someone who would give out a fake name, Haechan.” his eyes were bored as he glanced you up and down, eyes lingering on your curves. You hated how your face heated up, you still vividly remember how his hands felt on you. He plastered on a polite fake smile.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I typically remember the beautiful women I spend my nights with. Can I ask you your name pretty?” your eyebrow twitched at the familiar nickname. From his statement, you’re sure he’s used that exact same name for countless women he’s slept with.

You scoffed, shrugging your shoulders and crossing your arms as you stared him straight in the eyes. “It’s Y/N, though I doubt you’d remember. We met a few months ago at the bar. My name may not jog your memory but this will.” you reached into your purse and pulled out your sonograms and handed them to him. He looked down at them, confusion prominent on his face.

“What am I looking at?” he looked up from the photos and to you.

“The product of our night together, Haechan,” you said his name in a mocking tone. “You do not need to be involved in its life, but I would appreciate it if you could sign away your rights if that’s what you choose to do,” he stared back down at the sonograms. “Here,” you grabbed a pen and scribbled your number down on an old receipt and handed it to him. “Just..” you hesitated, “just please, get back to me in a week. That’s all I'm asking of you.” You didn’t give him any time to respond before you were out the elevator doors.

Haechan stood in the elevator as the doors closed, looking down at the swirl of black and white in front of him. How could this have even happened? He was always prepared when it came to the nights he spent limbs wrapped in whatever woman grabbed his interest first. He tried to think back to the night in question. Y/N, Y/N, the name was familiar. Ah, there it was. You were the cutie dancing by herself while her friends bundled up. He smirked to himself, holding one hand up to his lips while the other hand tucked the sonograms into his back pocket. You were the one to suggest you both go back to his place. And he remembers that all too well.

He had led you into the hotel room he rented for the night, you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. How badly he wanted to rip off your tight red dress, but he held back. Usually he would’ve made this quick, but for some reason he wanted to take his time with you and savor every noise and reaction you’d give him. He had you pinned against the wall next to the hotel door, his hands rubbing up and down the outside of your thighs before he hooked his hands underneath them. “Jump,” he commanded and you obliged. He had you pinned, pelvis to pelvis. He groaned at the pressure you put on his dick. Your grinding against him only pushed him further over the edge. “You listen so well, pretty. If I told you to stop rubbing against me before I flip your pretty little ass over the sofa, would you listen?”

You stopped briefly, looked down at him from above, you fluttered your lashes before wiggling some more, making sure to drag your clothed core over him slower. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You were going to drive him crazy. He’s never had to deal with such a bratty hook up, but damn did it pique his interest.

About the time that he made it to his car, his phone let up with an incoming call. His father. He held back a groan, already expecting an argument. He swiped right. “Hello, Father.”

“Where the hell are you Donghyuck?” immediately Haechan rolled his eyes, setting the phone on speaker and starting his vehicle. “I turned my back for one second and you disappeared. How am I supposed to get you connected with the company's shareholders if you leave to chase the next woman you see?”

“I did not leave to chase a woman, father,” Haechan took a second to compose himself. He knew that if he continued to argue, things would only escalate. That’s when an idea popped in his head. This would be perfect. He could get two birds with one stone as they say. “Father, I have someone to introduce to you. She’s very important to me. Can you have secretary Giselle clear your schedule for next Saturday?”

His father hesitated, apprehension lacing his next words. “Why am I only just now hearing about this very important woman Donghyuck?”

“Well,” Haechan threw on an embarrassed chuckle to really sell the bit, “she’s a little shy. I didn’t want to overwhelm her too early into our relationship. We’ve only been together a few months.” He really tried to recall the conversation he had with you earlier. He didn’t really try to listen to you if he was being honest. The little bomb you threw at him was pretty effective in grabbing his attention though. The conversion ended with his father shortly after and Haechan was left with his thoughts.

Though you seemed like a pain in his ass, you may be useful to him. Earlier that week, his father had given him an earful of disappointments. He gripped the steering wheel and clinched his teeth. He’s heard the same phrase for the last six months from his father. It’s practically haunting him in his dreams. ‘I would sooner die than pass my company to someone who will destroy my life's earnings in a few months.’ He can count on both hands the amount of times that has been said to him.

It’s not his fault he likes to have a warm bed at night. He knows his father has had his fair share of flings so why is it such a problem for him to have them too. 

“You need to be mature and have a level head to take charge of a company. Your issue is, Donghyuck, that you play around too much. I’ve had to deal with countless women coming here and causing a fuss because you never returned their calls,” he would say. That is exactly why he’s been giving the name ‘Haechan’ out instead of his actual name. It’s less publicity that way when they try to contact him after. 

That brings him back to you. How did you find him? He was at a company party, so that must mean you work there too. After parking in his apartment building's parking garage, he pulled his phone back out to dial his assistant. On the other end a soft voice answered, flustered at the late night call. “Jisung, I need you to look into something for me,” there was rustling on the other side before an answer.

“Right now sir? It’s almost midnight..” he trailed off, a slight whine to his voice. Haechan chuckled.

“Yes right now. I need you to make a report about one of our employees. Y/N is her name and I need it tomorrow morning.” Haechan twirled the number scrawled out messily on an old receipt for prenatals. How fitting.

This past week has been a mess. Your morning sickness seemed to double, though you couldn’t tell if it was because of the baby or because Haechan had yet to get back to you with his decision. You were kicking yourself in the ass for giving him your number instead of getting his. That way, in cases like this, you would be able to get a hold of him instead of waiting around for him to call you. 

It was the weekend before New Years, most of your coworkers were out on vacation for the holidays. You were bundled at home sipping some hot chocolate. Normally you and Renjun would celebrate the holidays together, but with his new job for interior designing, he was booked for the jolly seasons.

You were flipping through the Hallmark channel trying to find something vaguely interesting, munching on a bag of your latest flamin hot craving whenever your phone popped up with a call from an unknown number. Your heart started beating when your hand shot out so fast to grab it that you spilled some of your chips onto your lap. You quickly swiped right. “Hello?”

“Hey pretty,” a smooth voice rang out on the other side. The nickname settles in your stomach, a little unease and a little warmth. “I have an answer for you. Can we meet?” you moved your chips to the table in front of you and threw the fluffy brown blanket off your lap.

“Yeah, I’m free. There’s a cafe near me that I go to often. How does that sound?” you gave him the address before hanging up. You went to your room and found something a little more presentable to wear. You grabbed a loose fitting band tee and some stretchy jeans. It’s almost getting to the point where you have to switch out your wardrobe. The bloating is starting to impact your comfort. You find it harder to breathe when your jeans cut into you, it also hits in just the right area to make you throw up now so that's fun. Before leaving out your apartment door you grabbed your heavy black padded coat, a beanie, and your red scarf, locking the door as you exited it.

It was maybe a ten minute walk down the street before the familiar cafe sign came into view. The storefront was decorated in their seasonal colors. Two eight foot trees stood on each side of the patio, prob presents thrown around. You smiled to yourself as you entered, making your way to the front counter. You were greeted with a flashing flirtatious smile by the resident barista, Jaemin. “Your usual Y/N?”

You shook your head. Typically you would order a large Breve with whip cream, caramel, and chocolate drizzle on top. Your mouth watered at the thought. “I would love to, but I’m cutting out heavy caffeine,” you pouted before rummaging in your purse to grab your wallet. “I’m just going to get a nice big hot chocolate,” Jaemin saluted you before moving to start your order. You glanced around the cafe, no sign of Haechan, so you settled on a table in the back corner. You figured this would be a sensitive conversation so it’s best to have it away from prying ears and eyes.

It was probably about fifteen minutes before the front door chimed with a new customer, you looked up and caught sight of the one you’ve been waiting for. Haechan. By then you had already finished your hot chocolate. You watched him go to the counter and order before locking eyes with you and coming towards you. He wore a well fitted suit, one hand in his pocket while his other hand pulled out the chair in front of you before taking a seat. “I’m glad you could meet me Y/N” his smooth voice rang out as he sat relaxed across from you.

“Yes, thank you, too. For meeting me as soon as you could. Have you decided what you wanted to do?” You wasted no time in asking him about the question that's been weighing on your mind for the past month. He just smiled at you, radiating arrogance.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and his face on his hands. “I have a preposition. And I think it would benefit both of us.” you nodded at him slowly, encouraging him to continue. You had no idea where he was going with this. “You see, my father has really been breathing down my neck about maturing,” he air quotated “ and settling down my life.”

This whole story was starting to sound familiar. A son lectured by his father about growing up. Then it clicked. You saw Haechan at your work party. A party specifically for people employed by NCU. You hesitated a second before speaking, “Are you.. Donghyuck? The president's son?”

“Bingo,” he winked at you. “It kinda hurts my pride that you don’t know me. Then again, Y/N, you’ve only just got officially hired on with us.” You stared at him, eyebrows furrowed. He must’ve done a background check on you or something.

“Okay, what’s your proposition?” you asked him slowly, your voice held apprehension. If you were being honest, you have no idea what to expect from him. You spent a month looking for him just to let him know that you were pregnant. What you really wanted was an answer to whether he wanted to be involved or not, but it seems like he has other plans.

“I need you to roleplay with me for a while,” immediately you went to object, but he held his finger up to stop you. “Bear with me now. I don’t mean that in a sexual way, pretty. I didn’t take you for such a naughty girl,” he teased. “Actually, that's a lie. I know how naughty you can be.” Your face flushed as you stammered. “I just want you to act with me. Like you’ve heard, I'm kinda in the dog house. I need you to play a doting girlfriend that I've been going out with for a few months.”

“I’m sorry, what am I getting out of this? Because to me, it sounds like I'm really only helping you,” you raised your hand slightly to call Jaemin over.

“I’m getting there pretty, be patient. After you convince my father that I'm a mature, level headed heir to the company, I'll sign my parental rights away to you and take care of you and the baby financially throughout your pregnancy. Once the baby is born we can go our separate ways,” you were flabbergasted, but before you could say anything Jaemin arrived at your table with a fresh cup of hot chocolate and a pastry.

“Oh, Jaemin, I didn’t order a pastry,” you went to hand it back to him but he waved it off. He glanced over at Haechan rather coldly.

“You seem to be having a hard day,” he looked back at you and smiled. “It’s on the house.” After he walked away you looked back at Haechan.

“I don’t need your money. I didn’t even know who you were when I met you at the bar. I’m not looking for a payout,” you tried to defend yourself, but he just waved his hand.

“Look, it’s going to be hard for a single mother,” he tried to be sympathetic but his voice didn’t come across that way. All he sounded to you was bored, like he had anywhere else to be. He sucked through his teeth. “Take it from me, I’m a man right? If I'm being honest, no man is going to want to be with a single mother and raise a kid that isn’t even theirs. Just accept my offer and then you’d at least have money to rely on, right?”

You looked down at your hands that twirled in your lap. You felt humiliated. You knew, deep down, that he was right. However, you weren't going to force Haechan to be in this baby’s life after it was born. You grew up in a home where both your parents resented you for being born and forced in their life. You could at least spare your baby one parent that will resent them, and give them every ounce of love you have in your body.

“I’ll agree to this on one condition,” Haechan nodded enthusiastically. “You have to attend every doctor appointment with me. That’s all. You may not want to be in this baby’s life but I want you to watch them grow. You never know, you could mature into the person your dad wants through this experience.” You could tell that he was no longer as ready to agree as he was before. He took a second to think to himself before putting on a charming smile.

“Yeah, totally. I can do that,” he started to stand up, leaving an untouched americano on the table. “I’ll keep in contact with you.” He started to leave before he stopped and turned his head to face you. “This saturday, you’re going to meet my father for Christmas. He doesn’t need to know about the pregnancy. We won’t be together long enough for him to know anyways.” With that he left you there to your thoughts.

Haechan had been messaging you all throughout the week, preparing you for today. Mornings have been rough, it seemed like all you were able to keep down was water, oranges, and saltine crackers.You sat in the bathroom on a stool as you hovered over the toilet dry heaving a breakfast you hardly ever got to touch. Tears were streaming down your face as you gripped the toilet seat. Your phone rang from the counter to your left, however you couldn’t reach it. It rang a few more times before it stopped.

You had just finished rinsing your mouth out before there was a knock at your front door. The second you got to the door and unlocked it, it immediately swung open to reveal a frustrated Haechan with a bag in his hand. He pushed his way in, running a hand through this hair before setting the bag in his hand down on your kitchen bar.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone? You have to hold up your side of the deal!” he exclaimed. The rise in his voice makes you take a step back to distance yourself from him, your anxiety spiking at his outburst. You think back to the countless arguments and fights your parents would get into. “You’re not skipping out on me are you?” he took a step towards you and you raised your hands up. As if sensing your discomfort he stopped, taking a step back to lean against your bar.

“I’m not skipping. I didn’t answer because I was throwing up. I’ve been doing it all morning, so I’m sorry I made you think otherwise.” You stepped around him, heading back towards your room. “I just need to get dressed and then we can go.”

“Wait, I brought something for you to wear.” He reached for the bag behind him and walked over to you, handing it to you. “I’m sorry for raising my voice at you,” he looked away, and you could see the conflict on his face. He didn’t really know why he was apologizing. The look on your face as you backed away from him earlier made him uncomfortable.

You nodded at him, acknowledging the apology but not sure how to respond. Once in your room you opened up the bag he gave you. Inside was a long tightly fitting red dress. From the looks of it you could tell that one, this was expensive, and two it was not going to hide the bump that had slowly been making its presence known. You slipped the garment on, viewing yourself in your body mirror. You chuckled, hands finding their way to cradle your stomach. Yeah, that's not hiding anything. You searched through your closet pulling out a fluffy white sweater and slipping it on over your head. You retouched up your lipstick before sliding on some black flats and leaving your room.

“What happened? Was the dress not good enough?” Haechan moved towards you, his hands hovering around your sweater. You took a step back from him and tugged at your sweater lifting it up to show the small bump of your lower belly.

“We're supposed to be inconspicuous right?” his eyes lingered down to your stomach, mouth parting slightly. You dropped your sweater back down, covering your stomach back up. “With a tight dress we wouldn’t get very far.” you moved around him, grabbing your purse off your coat rack and walking towards your refrigerator. You pulled out a zip lock baggie of orange slices and a cold water bottle. You closed the door and reached towards the top of your refrigerator on your tiptoes, swiping your hand back and forth at your box of saltine crackers with no luck.

“What is that for?” Haechan came up behind you and grabbed your crackers, laying them in the palm of your hand. You put all three objects into your purse, not without stealing a slice of orange to snack on.

“This is the only thing the baby likes right now,” you make your way to the front door and look over your shoulder back towards Haechan. “You coming?”

The ride to the restaurant was on the longer side. You pulled up to the front of the building, Haechan got out of the driver's side and handed his keys to the valet. He opened the passenger side door to let you out and took your hand, lacing it with his before leading you inside the grand entrance. Once inside he gave his name to the host that led both your and haechan to a back vip room. “Wow, this is intimidating.” you said as you looked around.

“Just follow my lead. Go with the flow,” He said smoothly before the host opened the doors to the private room. His hand rested on your lower back, guiding you into the room where the president sat at the table. He had a hard look on his face but the second his eyes met yours they lit up.

“Oh my! It is so nice to meet you! I was starting to believe you were a figment of my son's imagination,” his laugh came deep from his belly as he stood up to shake your hand. “Please, have a seat Y/N. I have a lot of questions.”

You sat down with a smile, Haechan followed sitting next to you as he held your hand on top of the table. “Well Mr. Lee, what would you like to know?”

“How did you two meet? All Donghyuck told me is that you guys have been dating for a few months,” he sipped his glass of wine, eyes boring into you over the rim. You swallowed thickly, racking your brain for what Haechan had been messaging you about of the week.

You threw on a shy smile, tucking a strain of hair behind your ear. “We actually met for the first time when I started interning here. I actually didn’t know who he was at first. I honestly didn’t even find out he was your son until after we started dating.” The waiter brought you a glass of water and the table an appetizer of some sort of fancy dip.

“She was absolutely stunning the first time I saw her. She was in this red dress. It was like I was drawn to her against my free will, though I wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the world.” Wow he was smooth. This must be how he got such a notorious reputation as a playboy.

“So you work at the company huh? What department?” You set down your glass of water and smiled.

“I’m actually on your graphic design team. I finished my internship with you about three months ago and was offered a full time position. I guess I made a good enough impression,” you bashfully swiped your hand back and forth. The conversation went smoothly during dinner, you tried your best to keep down the pasta you ordered. The image on the menu looked appetizing enough, however the baby didn’t seem to agree. You were holding back a gag as you excused yourself to the bathroom, both Haechan and his father watched you as you rushed to the bathroom. You heard the door open a few minutes later as you hovered over the toilet bowl.

“Hey, pretty. Are you okay?” you held your hand up to Haechan to stop him from coming any closer.

“No,” you gagged, “please give me a second.” you threw up what little pasta you had eaten earlier. Haechan came up behind you, ignoring your warning. He gathered your hair in his hands and held it out of your face. You sobbed. “I’m so sorry, this is so gross and embarrassing.”

He laughed, a loud one. “I mean, it’s gross, yeah, but.. It's normal I guess.” He tried so hard to comfort you. You hiccuped.

“You’ve been around plenty of pregnant women?” you tried to joke. His grip of your hair tightens slightly. Not in a way to hurt you or anything, more out of hesitation.

“Um.. my step mom actually,” he was quiet for a moment, just your hurls in the background before he continued. “She just had my little brother. She was a handful during the pregnancy.” you didn’t press the topic, you could tell from the way he vaguely spoke about her that it was probably a touchy subject. You remembered from Giselle, the president's secretary, that he was currently married to a woman who couldn’t be more than a few years older than Haechan. You reach forward and flush the toilet. He let go of your hair and handed you some napkins to wipe your face with.

“Thank you. And I'm sorry. I must’ve made your father upset," Haechan shook his head.

“No you’re fine. I told him they probably added dairy to your pasta. So if he asks, you’re lactose intolerant.” you chuckled as you washed your hands at the sink.

“I actually am lactose intolerant so it wouldn’t technically be a lie,” you finished drying your hands as haechan opened the door for you.

“Let’s go say bye, I’m taking you home.” you went to object, to tell him that you were fine before he continued. “Before you think that I’m doing this for you, I’m not. I have a date tonight.” and immediately the feeling that warmed your chest at what you thought was his thoughtfulness was crushed. You smiled a tightlipped smile as you nodded your head.

Mr. Lee was sad to see you go. He gave you a hug and made you promise to meet him again. The ride back to your apartment was dead silent. You didn’t know how to start the conversation and Haechan didn’t seem interested in one either. Before closing the door you remembered about your appointments in February. “Oh, I won't have my next appointment for the baby until after the New Year. February thirteenth and twenth.” He had his phone in his hand typing away. He didn’t answer. “You know what? I’ll just message you the dates.”

“Huh? Oh yeah sure. See you later.” As soon as you closed the passenger door he was gone. This was going to kill you. Your heart has been reacting to Haechan all night. First he’s an ass but then he backs off and he apologizes. Then he’s romantic, escorting you and taking care of you in the bathroom before ditching you for a date. You scoffed as you pulled your phone out and gave Renjun a call. You had so much to get him caught up on.

The New Years went without a hitch. It was already mid January and you were coming up on sixteen weeks pregnant. Your belly had officially started to poke out. It no longer looked like you were bloated. It was getting harder and harder to hide it. Eventually the weather would start to warm up and you wouldn’t be able to hide behind the fluffy sweaters. You were officially out of the first trimester and your morning sickness had officially subsided. You would say it has been fantastic, except it hasn’t. Your workload doubled so now instead of throwing up because of the baby, you were throwing up because of work.

You had just made it home after a long shift at the company, when you started feeling it. There was a dull cramp in your lower belly. You had felt it a little earlier in the day but it went away as you continued to drink water. It almost felt like poop cramps so you decided to try and use the bathroom but as soon as you pulled down your pants to sit, you let out a scream. There was blood in your panties. You were panicking, not knowing what to do, you grabbed your phone. You found Haechan’s number in your most recent calls and dialed it. It rang a few times before going to voicemail. “Come on Haechan please pick up.”

You dialed it again, no call. Tears burned your eyes and your nose started to run. You grabbed a wad of toilet paper and shoved it in your panties before pulling it up and calling Haechan one final time. After six rings he finally answered, out of breath. “What,” he snapped. You were stunned.

“Why didn’t you answer when I called the first time?” your voice was shaking as you made your way to your front door to grab your purse.

“I was preoccupied. What the hell do you want right now?” you were crying now. His words just added more stress to your already messy mind. The cramp in your stomach feels worse.

“I-” you started to hyperventilate. “I need to go to the hospital. Now. Please. Haechan, something is wrong. I’m cramping and bleeding and I don’t know what to do. I-” Haechan interrupted you with a huff.

“Y/N, calm down. Everything is going to be fine. You’re overreacting.” His dismissal just made you pissed. “Go lay down and drink some water. It’ll pass.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down Donghyuck. You made a deal with me. I have done everything you have asked of me without so much as complaining. I’m going to the hospital now and your ass better be there or else your father will be there instead,” you were seething. Hot, angry tears poured down your face. Haechan started to object before you hung the phone up. You found Renjun’s number and dialed. He immediately picked up and you hurriedly told him.

“Okay, don’t panic. I’ll be there in five minutes.” Renjun lived a good fifteen minutes away. You told him to be careful. “Please, don’t worry about me Y/N. Just think about the baby, okay? See you when I get there.” true to his word Renjun was there in five minutes. You quickly hopped into his car as he sped back onto the highway. You were at the hospital in no time. Renjun assisted you into the building where you met the nurse at the front desk. 

As you were explaining your situation to her, Haechan came strolling in. He looked unaffected. His hair was a mess and his shirt was haphazardly buttoned up. Now you realized what he meant by preoccupied. You gritted your teeth and rolled your eyes. “Alright Miss Y/N, we’re going to take you back into this room over here and run some tests,” she turned to Renjun. “Dad? Would you like to join?”

Haechan was ticked. Who the hell was this dude? He had his arms around your waist and held your hands. He doesn’t know why but it rubbed him the wrong way. Before he could stop himself he stepped towards you, putting himself between you and Renjun and pushing his hands off of you. “Yes, I’ll go back there with her. I’m the baby’s father.” There was no way he was going to let another man go back there with you. With HIS baby. He didn’t know why he was feeling so upset over this.

“It’s okay Renjun. I’ll let you know how it goes,” he looked at you, concerned but nevertheless nodded and watched you walk back with Haechan. Once in the office the nurse checked your vitals as you explained to her your concerns. The doctor came in shortly after the nurse left. She greeted you, and helped you relax back on the exam table. You were fiddling your hands together, picking at your nails.

“Alright Miss Y/N, let's check on baby okay? The gel will be cold so bare with me,” She squirted some gel on the scanner as well as some on your stomach. You jumped at the sudden cold chill and reached your hand out to grip Haechans’. He looked at you shocked before holding it firmly. “Okay, the baby's vitals are looking great. Your uterus looks good as well,” the doctor messed with something on her screen before a sound started to echo in the room. You gasped, locking eyes with Haechan before looking back at the doctor.

“Is that the heartbeat?” your eyes started to tear up as the doctor nodded. You stared at the screen. The baby wasn’t a gummy bear anymore, it was more defined. You could see its legs moving as it bounced around. “It’s so crazy. It’s moving around so much but I can’t feel anything.”

“That is completely normal. Most women start to feel movement around this time, so it won’t be much longer!” She reassured you. Haechan stared at the screen as well, watching the baby inside of you bounce around. He wasn’t sure how to feel. It was a mix of disbelief and amazement. He didn’t doubt you were pregnant, not with how your belly was showing, but now with clear evidence in front of him, he couldn’t believe it.

“Do you know what caused the bleeding?” Haechan’s voice shocked you. If not for his hand gripping yours still, you would have forgotten that he was there. His voice almost sounded concerned. You were still upset at him for the way he reacted to you earlier, so you huffed. He eyes locked with your briefly as he raised his eyebrow, confused at your reaction.

“It is most likely due to stress. My recommendation would be to take the rest of the week off from work, and limit your work load moving forward,” Haechan nodded as he listened to her, almost as if the instructions were for himself. “I’m going to put this down in your notes. Your next appointment is in three weeks. We’ll do your glucose test and the following week we’ll do your anatomy! Let’s hope I don’t see you before Miss Y/N, okay?” you nodded earnestly.

“I will rest like crazy Dr. Kim!” you held your fist up. You followed her out the room and into the waiting room where you were met with a frazzled Renjun. He came up to you quickly, grabbing one of your hands while the other hand touched your stomach lightly.

“How’s my little jellybean doing?” he asked, looking from your belly to your eyes. You were about to answer when Haechan’s hands grabbed your waist and gently pulled you back towards him, meeting his chest.

“OUR baby,” he emphasized, “is okay. She just needs to take it easy.” he grabbed the purse from your shoulder and slung it onto his shoulder. “Thank you for bringing her here, but I’ll be driving her back.” he put his hand on your shoulder to guide you.

“Thank you Renjun. I’ll call you when I get home okay?” you pulled from Haechan’s arms to give Renjun a hug. You turned back around and Haechan was staring at you with his mouth open like he couldn’t believe you just hugged another man in front of him. Once you both made it out the building doors and to his car he opened the passenger door for you, closing it as you took a seat.

Once he sat in the driver's seat and started the car, he spoke. “So who was that guy?”

“Renjun? He’s a friend. What’s it to you? He at least answered on my first call.” you couldn’t help but throw a jab at him, still upset.

“Just a friend huh? He sure had his hands all over you,” he mumbled.

“What is your deal? You’re acting like you're jealous.” he scoffed as if that idea was absurd.

“I am not jealous. I just didn’t like it.” you turned your whole body to face him now.

“Well, that’s not what it looked like,” you leaned back, crossing your arms across your chest and looking out the window. That’s when you noticed it. You guys weren’t heading back to your apartment. “Where are we going? This isn’t the way back to my place.”

“You’re going to stay with me until the baby is here.” he said it so surely, as though you and him had agreed on this already.

“What? We did not agree on this. Why would I stay with you? All of my belongings are at my apartment already.” he shook his head, no longer hearing your objections.

“I’ll hire a moving company when we get home. I want you to stay with me, that way if anything like this happens again, I’ll be the first person to know.” His eyes stayed fixed on the road.

“You’re acting as if you weren’t the FIRST person I called. I even called you three times before you even answered. And what were you doing?” you snapped at him. You had enough of his entitled attitude.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I didn’t realize that it was as serious as you were saying. Please forgive me, It won’t happen again.” He put the car in park, turning to look at you. “Please, just stay with me until the baby is born. That way I can be here for you.” you sighed. You know, deep down, that it made sense. It would be easier if you were with someone in case anything ever happened. You briefly thought back to a few weeks ago when you were stuck on the toilet because the baby put too much wait on your lower back and you couldn’t get off the toilet because of the pain. You were stuck there for a good fifteen minutes before the pain subsided and you were able to get up.

“Just until the baby is here,” you reluctantly agreed. Haechan smiled at you with this whole body. For some reason, he didn’t like you being so upset with him.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you Y/N! Now let's get inside and I’ll show you to your room.” He got out of the car and held open the passenger door for you. You follow him into his house. It was absolutely gorgeous. The front of the house had a circle drive with a fountain, its front bushes looked well kept with budding flowers and clovers. As soon as you stepped foot into the front door, you were shocked. For a young single man you expected more of a bachelor pad, however it was spotless. It was pretty minimalistic in terms of furniture and decoration. It looked lonely. 

Haechan led you upstairs and to the left, he pointed at the first door to your right. “This will be your room.” He opened the door to a decently sized bedroom. To the left against a navy blue accent wall was a queen sized bed adorned in cream colored sheets with a matching navy blue duvet. On each side of the bed was built in bookcases with an assortment of different books, ranging from educational to nonfiction. Haechan pointed to the right side of the room where there were two doors. “The one to the left is your ensuite bathroom, and the right is a walk-in closet. Feel free to redecorate however you like. I want you to feel as comfortable as possible while you’re here.” he left you to your thoughts, assuring you that all your belongings would be arriving in the morning.

Even though his words were welcoming, you were still feeling apprehensive about the whole ordeal. On one hand, you were very grateful to Haechan for even wanting to be as involved as he is starting to be, but on the other, it would be so much easier for him just to sign his rights away and you two never meet again. Although you weren’t getting much in return for helping him out with his father, you couldn’t help but feel bad for him. That night you two spent together almost four months ago still sat so heavily in your mind. You were both tipsy, yeah, but you were nowhere near black out to forget the time you spent with him and how he opened up to you. You wonder if he remembers anything you two talked about. Maybe, he’s that vulnerable with every hook up. That thought made you sick to your stomach.

You laid your head on Haechan’s chest as he rubbed circles on your bare shoulder, he kissed the top of your head. You listen to the slow beating of his heart, lulling you to sleep. “I’ve got to get up and go, I may end up falling asleep to your heartbeat if not,” you chuckled. He shifted beneath you, moving to where you laid on top of him, your legs resting on either side of his hips.

“Aw, don’t do that pretty. Tell me,” he stroked your hair, “why were you at the bar today?” you hummed with your eyes closed.

“I was celebrating,” you rested one hand on his side while the other embraced the arm petting your hair. It all felt so intimate, something you probably shouldn’t be doing with a hook up.

“Celebrating what?”

“A promotion. I officially got hired onto the company I was interning for.” he made a wow sound accompanied with a chuckle. His hand moved from your head down to your sides, caressing them.

“Company huh. I technically work for one.” he said, staring above you at the ceiling of the hotel room.

“Technically? What does that mean?” you lifted your head, chin resting on his sternum as you stared at him. He looked lost in thought, and for a second you thought you asked something you shouldn’t have, but then he answered.

“Someday I’ll run the company. But right now, i'm not ready,” you figured now was when you should stop asking, his grip on your sides tightened before they moved down to caress your ass. You jumped before his hands were pushing your hips down to grind on him. You were shocked to feel him hard already. You both had just finished maybe thirty minutes ago and were basking in the afterglow. “Sorry, I just want to forget about it. Can I?” he nudged you closer to him, lining himself up with you. You nodded, kissing his neck but he hesitated. “Hmm?”

“Yes, you can Haechan.”

Oh my god. That was it. The first time you both used protection. You know that for certain because you were the one that put it on him. You flushed at the memory. But that second time? After he was being vulnerable, you were both caught up in the moment that neither one of you remembered. You chuckled dryly, your chest aching. Maybe that was his sad excuse at pillow talk. He plays the sad kicked puppy to get laid again. Well it worked. He made you feel special, so he got what he wanted in the end. You tossed your purse on the chair at the foot of the bed and crawled in, maybe sleep will get rid of this unsettled feeling in your chest.

You woke up to a god awful smell and practically flew out of the bed and into the bathroom, throwing up stomach acid into the toilet. You wiped your mouth before leaving the bedroom with your shirt over your nose. You found Haechan in the kitchen, apron on, as he cooked over the stove. “What are you doing?” he turned his head quickly, smiling at you before it fell from his face.

“Is it that bad? I thought I was a good cook,” he pouted. You shook your head.

“No, I'm sure you are but the smell. The egg smells awful.” you gagged as if on cue. He quickly shut the stove off, turned the fan on above, and opened the window above the sink. He took a cutting board and wafted the smell towards the window.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” he scratched the back of his neck. “I made some back and pancakes though!” He tried to be optimistic. You giggled, pulling your shirt down from your nose.

“It’s fine, thank you.” He brought over the plates with pancakes and bacon, setting them on the table in front of you.

“What do you like on your pancakes? I put chocolate chips on them.” He moved to the refrigerator, grabbing out butter and milk. “I have syrup,” he grabbed it down from the shelf above the stove.

“Do you have peanut butter? My dad used to mix butter, peanut butter, and syrup together to put on his pancakes. It was so good,” he brought over what you requested, giving you a weird look. “Come on, you have to try it first before you hate on it.” You mixed together your concoction before spreading it on your pancake. You cut off a piece and offered it to Haechan. You expected him to grab it with his fork but he leaned over, mouth wide open, and took it.

“Wow,” his eyes widened and he nodded his head as he tasted it. “It’s not bad. I usually just eat it with syrup. Is this a pregnancy craving thing?” you shook your head and chuckled.

“Nope,” you popped the p as you took a bite. “I just like it. I haven’t gotten weird cravings yet. Wait,” you thought for a second. “Um, actually I’ve been craving meat and dirt. My blood tests came back a few weeks ago and I’m anemic so that could explain it.”

“Do I need to get you anything? I’ll have the housekeeper come and stock the refrigerator with more meat.” 

“I don’t need anything. I’m on supplements to help,” you both sat and ate awkwardly at the table. “Do you know when the movers will be here with my stuff? I need my laptop to do some work. I also need to email my supervisor about my situation. I trust that he can keep my pregnancy a secret.” he nodded and finished up his food before taking both your plates and cups to the sink to wash them. Once he was done he checked the time on his phone.

“They should actually be here any minute. Why don’t you go sit in the living room and relax. I’ll help the movers with your stuff.” You got up and made your way out of the kitchen and into the grand living room. It had tall ceilings, gray panels lined the walls, and in the middle of the room was a large dark brown leather sectional. Laying on the couch was a throw blanket so you grabbed it, wrapping it around yourself before sitting down. Pregnancy has made you so cold all the time. You grabbed the tv remote off of the coffee table and flipped through channels before Haechan came into the room with a cup of steaming hot chocolate. You took it from him with a thank you.

The next three hours flew as you drifted in and out of a nap on Haechan’s couch. He was busy redirecting the movers with your belongings so you didn’t have to worry about anything. Before you knew it Haechan was scooting you over on the couch. He slowly laid your head down on his lap as gently as possible, as not to wake you. He switched the channel to a show he had been watching and let it play while his hand absentmindedly stroked your hair. If he was being honest, he wasn’t paying attention to the show he put on, his mind was too jumbled with thoughts. He doesn’t know why he was so adamant on you staying with him except that he was scared. He kept beating himself up over how shitty he was to you over the phone when you called him crying. He didn’t want to hear you upset and scared like that again. He figured this would be the best option, that way he could watch over you the entire pregnancy.

You shifted on his lap, drawing him out of his thoughts. You had turned to your side, one arm resting on your stomach while the other wrapped around his leg, gripping his thighs. His skin burned hot under your touch. His eyes zeroed in on how your hand rested against your swollen tummy. He slowly reached his hand out, laying it on top of yours. He just can’t wrap his head around the fact that you're growing something that's half you and him inside of you. When you first told him about the baby, all he thought about was how perfect the timing was. But now, he really doesn’t know what he’s feeling. He just knows that this little thing growing inside of you is going to impact his life in every way possible, and he's not so sure he hates that idea completely.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you stopped what you were doing, which happened to be leaning down to put your shoes on. Lately your stomach has started to get in the way of day to day activities. It wasn’t anything serious, it was just like you were carrying around a solid bowling ball in your stomach. Haechan came bolting around the corner, out of the kitchen and spilling the glass of water he had gotten for you. For the last three weeks that you have been living with him, he’s been glued to your side. You weren’t going to lie, it was really nice.

“What? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He quickly set down the glass of water for you, and rushed to your side.

“The baby just moved. I felt it,” you looked up at him with wide eyes and a big smile on your face. You lifted your shirt up, showing your belly to him. “It was so strong too. It felt like my shirt moved.” You could still feel a little swirl inside of you. It felt like someone was making waves under the water with their hands. “Quick! Give me your hand!” you grabbed his hand, and laid it on your lower belly. “Wait for it.”

“I don’t feel anything,” there was a hint of disappointment in his voice. He started to pull his hand away but you kept it firmly to your stomach. The warmth of his palm against your stomach made you feel tingly. Even though he's been doting on you and making sure to help you with everything you needed, you’ve been feeling lonely. Your back hurts at night, your bed is always cold, and you never feel like you get warm enough. It would be so nice to have someone lay with you at night, at least until you fall asleep. Pregnancy insomnia has been kicking your ass. “Ah, I don’t think it likes me-” before he could finish there was a strong kick to his palm. His mouth dropped open.

“Keep talking! I think it likes the sound of your voice!” you urged him to keep going. He kneeled down in front of you and moved his head closer to your stomach, resting his cheek against it.

“Hey,..” he hesitated like he didn't know what to say. “It’s uh, it’s your daddy. Do you like the sound of my voice?” your heart sped up at Haechan calling himself daddy. The last time he said it was at the hospital a few weeks ago but the way he said it now, it felt warm. He didn’t say to get on anyones nerves like last time, but for himself. “Ohh you do don’t you,” he chuckled against your stomach as the baby pushed against his cheek and palms.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your bonding through my skin,” you giggled, “but were going to be late for my appointment.”

“Ah, right. Bye bye baby,” he poked your belly before standing up and brushing off his knees. “Lessgo.” He grabbed your purse from your shoulder and opened the front door leading you guys to his car. 

The drive to the doctors was quick. You were apprehensive about getting your blood drawn but at least you had an hour to prepare yourself. The nurse had you pick between five flavors, orange, lemon-lime, grape, lemonade, and fruit punch. You had decided to go with the orange flavor. You were given five minutes to drink it, and as true as the mommy blogs you read, it tasted like flat soda. Now, you weren't the biggest fan of flat soda but they at least gave you the drink cold. You chugged it in less than five minutes, the nurse looked surprised.

“Wow, a lot of women hate this test,” she laughed as she took the empty bottle from you and threw it in the trash. “In one hour we'll have a phlebotomist take your blood down the stairs.” She led you and Haechan out of the office and into the lounge room. You and Haechan took the elevator to the first floor and waited in the seats until your hour was up.

“Hey, Haechan?” he looked up from his phone, setting it down in his pocket. You twiddle your fingers together in your lap. Renjun was with you the last time that you had your blood drawn. You didn’t know if haechan would be okay sitting with you this time around. Noticing your hesitation, he scooted over to sit next to you, holding your hand.

“Is everything okay Y/N?” you nodded, taking a deep breath.

“I’m not the biggest fan of needles or having my blood drawn. Could you sit in the room with me and hold my hand?” you felt so shy asking it. He held your hand tighter.

“Of course Y/N.” he kept a hold of your hand, rubbing patterns on it as time passed. Soon you heard the nurse call out your name. You got up, followed closely behind by Haechan, his hand not letting go of yours. The second you sat in the chair, Haechan was right next to you. The nurse explained the process and it was basically the same as last time.

“Results come back pretty quickly for this test. It typically comes back in one to two days.” She patched you up with a pink bandaid, and sent you on your way.

“You handled that fine. I kinda expected you to pass out and I’d have to carry you back home,” Haechan teased you, his hand still interlocked with yours as he led you out to his car. “What do you want to eat? They told you not to eat this morning right?” you nodded, thinking hard about what sounded good. He swung your hands back and forth.

“Oh! Lets get some Korean BBQ!” he laughed, throwing his head back.

“I should’ve thought of that,” he glanced towards you, such a warm smile on his face. You smiled back at him as tears started to prick your eyes. Haechan’s smile immediately wiped off his face. “What? What’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?” you shook your head.

“No! No, not at all,” you wiped your eyes with your free hand. “It’s just,” you hiccuped, “I’m really emotional. Your smile, it just made me happy.” his smile returned on his face as he used his own hand to wipe at your eyes. His hand lingered at your jaw as he stared at your lips. He cleared his throat before looking away, continuing towards the car.

“So the key to your heart is Korean BBQ huh, that’s good to know.” He helped you into the car before finally letting go of your hand. The loss of the heat in your hand was immense, you sighed. You’ve practically been craving Haechan’s touch since you moved in with him. Maybe it was some sort of physiological pull or something that the baby was doing. Trying to get you closer to its daddy. You chuckled at the thought. Haechan has been so much more tolerable the last few weeks, that it feels like you’re looking at the man you went home with last October.

“Hey, I have kinda a sensitive question.” you asked him as soon as he sat down in the driver seat.

“Shoot,” he said as he turned the ignition. You took a second to try and gather your thoughts. It's been over four months since you guys met at the bar, he’s probably forgotten all about it.

“When we went home together after the bar, I was wondering if you treat all the girls you go home with like how you treated me,” Haechan looked at you a little shocked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like,”  you stuttered a little bit. Embarrassed now that you were actually talking about it. “You were very sweet to me. After the first time we,” you blushed, face heating up.”did it,” you whispered. “I kinda expected you to kick me out, but instead you let me stay and we cuddled. You also asked me about myself, and talked about yourself. It just felt very intimate.” Haechan looked lost in thought. He thought back to the night you were talking about, specifically the part where you two cuddled and talked.

“Honestly? No, I don’t typically do that. I usually have them leave after the first time. I don’t know why, but with you, I wanted to spend some more time with you. I didn’t want the night to end just yet.” his hands gripped the steering wheel.

“I wanted to apologize. About that night. When we were talking. I feel like I made you talk about stuff you didn’t want to.” 

“No it wasn’t anything like that. Everything I talked about with you that night was because I wanted you. You made me comfortable enough to. So don’t think you made me okay?” His words reassured you. You felt the weight lift off your shoulders a little bit. This pregnancy has made you feel so guilty over the little things in life. The other day you went out to get hot chocolate with Renjun and you cried when you stepped on a snail.

“That does make me feel a bit better,” you chuckled. “Oh, are you still able to make next week's appointment? It’s the anatomy scan.” 

“Hmm, that’s when we find out the gender right? See i’m learning,” he had a small smile on his face as he kept his eyes focused on the road ahead.

“Yes but also we will find out if the baby is forming correctly,” you pulled out your phone to check the appointment times.

“Are you wanting a boy or girl?” you were shocked by his question. You didn’t expect him to ask, let alone sound curious while doing so.

You let his question sink in. On one hand you really didn’t have a preference, but at the same time you used to dream about having a little boy. “I think a little boy.”

“Oh yeah? What makes you want a boy?”

“I just always dreamed about being a boy mom. I grew up with only girls in the family, cousins, aunts, great aunts, you know. I think it’s just the challenge of something new.” You tried to think hard about it. Maybe it’s because you grew up fighting with your mom, well you fought with both parents, but you were closer to your dad. You were just scared of having a girl and passing off all your bad traits to her and having the same type of relationship you had with your mother, with her.

“Well, either way, I think you’re going to be a fantastic mother to a boy or girl.” you watched the side of his face as he drove. You exclaimed every curve and mole that adorned his sun kissed cheeks. You rested your cheek against your palm, a soft smile laid on your lips. He’s become such a big part of your life, not just because he’s the father of your child, but because of how he’s stuck to his side of the deal.

“It’s going to be hard to keep our pregnancy from your dad isn’t it? He’s been messaging me, wanting to have dinner together again.” you felt guilty that you haven’t been able to uphold your side of said deal.

“Actually, I was wondering if you would be comfortable telling him?” he looked over at you, curiosity and a little bit of anxiety plastered on his face. He chewed at his lip as his eyes found the road again, waiting for your reply.

“Would you be okay with that? I thought you didn’t want to tell him because that would make it harder for you to distance yourself from us after the baby is born.” It hurt to say, but that was the deal. He supports you financially during the pregnancy, but in the end that’s what you both agreed to.

He thought for a long hard minute. You almost expected him to drop the topic, ignoring it all together, but he didn’t. “Yeah, that was the plan but,” his teeth were doing numbers on his bottom lip. “I want to be a part of this baby’s life after it’s born. And yours. I don’t think I can just forget about you or the baby after all of this. You’ve, you’ve become someone special to me Y/N,” he cheeks tinged pink. You grabbed a napkin out of your purse and leaned across the center counsel to dab at the blood on his lips.

“I want that too, Donghyuck,” it felt weird using his real name. You felt like now was the perfect moment, like he was him in this moment. Not the cocky persona he puts up to mask the hurt and loneliness. He grabbed the hand that dabbed at his lips gently, placing a kiss across your knuckles before resting your intertwined fingers atop the arm rest between you two. This was nice, you felt like this was a big step between you two, an important development.

With all the progress you and Donghyuck made during your conversation in the car a week ago, it felt like you both took five steps back. You couldn’t figure out how to talk to him, you were so nervous, always feeling butterflies around him. He, on the other hand, was losing his mind. All he wanted to do was just grab you and hold you, but it felt like you were avoiding him. Everytime he walked into the same room as you, you’d get up and leave. You’ve practically lived in your bedroom for the last week. He was grateful that today was your appointment, that way you were forced to talk to him.

“Here,” he handed you a bottle of orange juice. “I saw online that orange juice helps the baby move. The last thing we want is for it to be still while we're trying to find out if we’re having a boy or girl,” he chuckled, a soft glow to his smile as he looked down at you sitting on the entryway ottoman. He kneeled in front of you, slipping on your slippers for you. Your heart was beating like crazy, it felt way too hot in this room. It was like you were standing next to the sun. You would be concerned, but you knew it was because of how Donghyuck caressed your ankles, slowly massaging them. 

“Thank you,” you spoke, barely audible. He looked up at you, eyes locking with yours before he reached his hand up to feel your forehead.

“Are you okay? Your face is red and you’re warm.” you shook your head.

“I’m fine,” you bit your lip. “We need to head out before we’re late.”

Once at the doctor’s, the check up with the nurse went quickly. She had laid you back agaisn’t the exam table and measured your stomach. “Looking perfect Miss Y/N! You’re measuring right on track. You got the results back from your glucose test correct? I just wanted to make sure your notes were put in the system correctly.” You nodded.

“Yes, everything came back normal.” she typed a bit on the computer before leaving. You looked over at Donghyuck who was scrolling on his phone. “I’m sorry about this morning,” he looked up at you, confusion on his face. “And for this whole last week. I’ve just felt so nervous around you.”

He scooted the guest chair closer to you, holding your hand in his. “Is it something I did or said? Was it the conversation we had about telling my father? Because we don’t have to if you don’t want to.” you were so smitten by his concern towards you.

“It’s really childish. I swear it’s nothing you did or said, it’s just,” he leaned forward as if hanging on every single word that came out of your mouth. “I really like you, and I just don’t know how to act around you.” He looked like his mind short circuited for a second before he smirked.

“So what, I make you so nervous that your mind goes mush? Like that?” you nodded. “Oh my god you’re so cute. This entire time I thought you were avoiding me because I upset you or something. But it's just because I'm that charming that I made you speechless.” you smacked his shoulder lightly. He laughed as he rubbed it like you had any real power behind your swing. “Ow, you wounded me.”

You were both interrupted by a knock at the door. Dr Kim walked in with a bright smile on her face. “Who's ready to see the baby!” She took a seat on the rolling stool and moved over to you. She pulled the scanner and lube out as you lifted up your shirt, tucking it underneath your bra to keep it fastened. “Alrighty, this will feel cold. Are you ready?” You locked eyes with Donghyuck, he smiled down from beside you, his hand rested against your upper arm. You nodded at the doctor. 

She squirted the lube onto your bare stomach and smeared it with the scanner. With her free hand she pointed up at the screen in front of you and Donghyuck. “Here are the baby’s hands. Ten fingers!” she clicked around on the computer before moving on to the baby’s feet. “All ten toes as well. Good job Mama.” you could feel the baby kick at the probe, as well as see it bounce around the screen. “Do you guys want to know the gender now or wait until the end?”

“I want to wait until the end. What about you?” his eyes were fixed to the screen, a smile plastered on his face. He looked back at you.

“I don’t mind waiting. Do you want to take a bet?” you lifted an eyebrow at him. What did he mean by a bet? “A bet to see who's right on the gender. If I win and it’s a girl, I get to pick her name. If you win and it’s a boy, you get to pick his name. Does that sound fair?” you thought about it for a second, the doctor still clicking away on the screen and moving the scanner around.

“Alright, I’ll take those chances.” he laughed as you both looked up at the screen. The doctor explained some of the things you were seeing. She was checking the baby’s legs and measuring them as well as taking scans for the size of its head. After checking everything she needed to, she turned to face us.

“So mama thinks boy, daddy thinks girl?” both you and Donghyuck nodded before looking up at the screen. She moved the scanner around a bit before stopping. “Congratulations daddy, it’s a girl!” Donghyuck stood up and pulled his fist towards his side.

“Oooh I knew it! I was looking up how to tell and you were ticking off all the boxes for girls! Oh, I'm a genius.” you giggled at his antics. Although you were wanting a boy, you oddly felt excited to have a girl. All of the worries you had about her were still there, but with Donghyuck by your side, you felt like you could brave the fears. The doctor helped you clean up before handing you your sonograms from the visit.

“I wont see you again until you’re closer to thirty weeks. If you have any concerns during that time please don’t hesitate to call me okay?” You pulled your shirt back down over your stomach and said goodbye to the doctor.

“Hit me with it. What’s the name you picked? I’m so curious,” you grabbed his hand, swinging it back and forth. You tried your best to keep up with his pace, he ended up slowing down to match your speed. You get out of breath so easily now, it’s crazy. He put a finger up to his chin in mock thinking.

“Okay, okay, bare with me now. I think it’s really cute but it’s not traditional for a little girl,” you smiled and squeezed his hand in encouragement to keep talking. “I was thinking something like Woong. Just imagine, Woongie,” he called it out so affectionately and cutely you couldn’t help but break out in an even bigger smile.

“What made you want to go with that?” He looked down at you as he held the office's front door open for you to pass through.

“Well, when I first saw her on the sonograms you gave me last December, she looked like a little gummy bear. I’m kinda embarrassed to say this but I’ve been calling her Woong since then.” How fitting that he choose a name that can mean bear.

“Are you trying to project your feelings to make her a mini you?” he gasped, throwing his hand to his chest.

“Never,” he teased. “Do you have anything planned this evening?” you guys made it to the car and you answered as he helped you sit in the passenger seat.

“Not that I know of, why?” he stood by your door with a big grin.

“Because we’re going to go shopping for Princess Woongie. You haven’t gotten anything yet right?” you gushed at her name. You were definitely starting to adore the name the more Donghyuck said it.

“No, I wanted to wait until I knew what we were going to have first.” He closed the door before going around the car and getting in the driver's side.

“Well then, let’s go spoil her before she even arrives.”

Tonight was the night, you had enough of sleeping in a cold bed. You and Donghyuck had been coy back and forth, not quite sure what the other was comfortable with. You stood at your bedroom door, fuzzy socks covering your chilly toes. You had on your pink pajamas, the shorts just small enough that the waistband had to be rolled down under your belly and the shirt that used to fit comfortably rested mid stomach, exposing your twenty four week belly bump.

You tiptoed down the hallway until you stood in front of Donghyuck’s door. You knuckles hesitated against the ingrained wood to his bedroom. Before you could knock, the door swung open to a messy haired Donghyuck. He jumped back letting out a screech, clutching at his bare chest where his heart was. “Oh my god Y/N, what’s wrong? Is everything okay?” He looked between you and the baby bump. “Is it Woongie?” a mild panic flashed across his face. You shook your head, hands raising up to wave.

“No! She’s fine!” you told him. The worry melted off his face as he checked you over, making sure with his own two eyes that you and Woong weren’t hurt.

“What are you doing at my bedroom door then?” you stood there, unsure how you wanted to tell him that lately you’ve been feeling isolated. Not necessarily by him, but the further along you get in your pregnancy, the less you see people. You haven’t been back to the office for the last two months, you’ve been doing everything remotely, so that already takes out half of your social circle. Luckily with how busy Renjun is, he still makes time to see you at least once a week.

Your eyes travel the exposed skin across his chest and down to his waist. You’ve seen it before yeah, but not with a completely sober mind. Your mind goes back to the night you guys shared, you vividly remember how warm he was. You would give anything to curl against him. No time for hesitation now.

“Can I sleep here with you tonight?” his eyes widened and his mouth parted slightly. You looked up at him, probably the most pitiful look known to mankind was plastered across your face. Most women have a glow to them during pregnancy, you however, did not. The lack of sleep you’ve gotten in the last three months has dimmed your complexion and created dark circles under your eyes. You always heard the lack of sleep happens AFTER the baby, not before.

He stepped to the side, motioning you to enter. “I was just going to use the bathroom and grab a glass of water. Do you want one?” you nodded and he left the room, leaving you to look around. Donghyuck had a pretty large bed that sat tucked away in the far left corner against the wall. His bed frame was pretty minimalistic, the headboard was a plush bright red that just screamed Donghyuck. You noticed he had a lot of red accents around the room. You walked over to the side of the bed that wasn't against the wall and sat your phone down on the bedside table. 

You slowly got onto his bed and crawled towards the side against the wall. Immediately you were engulfed by the citrusy smell of his daily cologne. You nestled yourself underneath his white covers, they were a thick material already warmed from him. Yeah, this was a good idea. You were already feeling the warmth seeping back into your body. Before too long, Donghyuck came back into the room carrying two glasses of water. “Here,” he said as he sat one glass down on his bedside table, next to your phone. You shuffled to rest your back against his head board, reaching out to grab the glass of water from his hand, sipping it. You watched as he checked something on your phone before he unplugged the charger to his phone, connecting your phone to the charger. You handed the water glass back to Donghyuck and he set it down next to his. “Do you want to talk about it?” He sat next to you against the headboard, his fingers playing with your.

“I’m not sure what I'm feeling if I'm being honest,” you laid your head back, staring at his ceiling. He sat quietly, allowing you time to gather your thoughts. “I just think I'm feeling very isolated from the people around me. I was thinking about it earlier but, I really only talk to you and on occasion Renjun when he’s able to make time for me. I haven’t talked to anyone from the company. Also, Woongie makes me cold,” you chuckled looking over to Donghyuck who was already looking at you, your heart jumped at the sudden eye contact.

“What do you mean? Have you talked to Dr. Kim?”

“Yes I have and It’s nothing serious. But, I just have a harder time getting myself warm. My fingers are cold, my feet are cold, I’m just overall cold,” As you said it he picked your intertwined hands up and blew warm air from his mouth. You giggled. “I remembered the last time we shared a bed that your body was hot.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the innuendo. “Stop! I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I’m just teasing you Y/N. You’re more than welcome to sleep in here with me from now on if you want.” He looked around the room, you couldn’t tell from the dim light, but he had a faint blush on his cheeks as he tried to formulate the next words in his mind carefully. “I know we’ve only talked about it briefly but,” he paused, his eyes darting around the room in thought. “I want to have a relationship with you. If you are willing. I know we didn’t really start this relationship that we have on an ideal foot, but I want to have an actual relationship with you. One that’s serious. I want to be in Woong’s life, not just as her daddy, but as her mommy’s partner.” your eyes started tearing up. You both desperately needed this conversation and you were happy he was giving it to you maturely.

“Yes. I want to as well. I want to have you by my side.” Donghyuck smiled at you so fondly, he slowly leaned towards you, his eyes memorizing your face before trailing down to your lips. You closed your eyes, leaning back into him. The moment your lips touch is like fire, heat spreads from your lips, through your body, and to your toes. Your hand was still in his and you squeezed it lightly as you tilted your head, deepening the kiss. Donghyuck’s other hand slowly rested on your cheek, his thumb caressed the side of your lips. It tugged at your bottom lip, slowly dragging it down and open so that he could slip his tongue into your mouth. You gasped, leaning into the palm of his hand as he continued, caressing your tongue with his. You felt light headed, and when you could take it anymore, you leaned back, breaking this kiss with only a strain of saliva to connect you.

Donghyuck gave you a sweet smile before shuffling down the headboard and lifting up the covers. He patted next to him, ushering you down as well to cuddle him. “Let’s get some rest. Tomorrow I want to call my father and set up lunch to tell him the news.” you laid your head firmly on his chest, your legs twisted with his, and his hand stroked your hair. You feel asleep to the thruming of his heartbeat that night.

True to his word, the next morning Donghyuck called his father. You briefly heard his conversation from the other room, and while you only heard bits and pieces, it seemed a bit strained. Donghyuck came back into the bedroom to find you still tucked under his blankets. He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing your hair before he gave you a small kiss to your temple. “I know you’re awake Y/N,” he cooed in your ear. You pulled the blankets down a little bit to see him.

“I didn’t mean to overhear,” you started. “Is he upset?”

“Oh, I hadn’t told him yet. All I said was that I needed to meet him soon and that it was about you.” he pinched your cheek slightly before standing up from the bed and making his way over to his closet.

You sat up in bed a little too quickly, hissing as you held your back. Donghyuck’s head snapped quickly towards you but you brushed it off. “She's just pushing on my back too much,” you scooted towards the edge of the bed. “Is he upset?”

“Not at you. I think he thinks that I broke up with you or something. I don’t really have the best track record at relationships,” he winced. That came out so bad but you know what he means.

“I understand,” you stood up from the bed and waddled a bit as you made your way up behind him. You slowly wrapped your arms around his waist, belly stopping you from laying yourself flush against him. You laughed. You guessed the laugh woke up Woongie because she started to kick through you at Donghyuck’s back.

“Uh, Woongie,” he whined as he turned around to face you. He leaned down towards your stomach, laying his lips on the side before blowing a raspberry. Your entire abdomen shook as Woong did what you could only assume was flips. Donghyuck immediately gasped and apologized. “Oh daddy’s sorry. He didn’t mean to scare you,” he cooed and peppered kisses along your belly. You put your hands on his cheeks and slowly raised his head up, giving him a chaste kiss once he was fully standing.

“Do I need to wear something that hides the belly?” he shook his head quickly.

“No! The whole point of this meeting is to tell him about Woong. I have something I bought you while we were out buying stuff for her the first time.” You looked at him confused. You swore he was with you the entire time, so how did he sneak away to get you something? He rummaged in the top of his closet, pulling out a gift bag. “Here, go change into this and meet me down stairs by the front door. I’ll help you with your shoes.” After a quick kiss to the cheek, you made your way back towards your room.

Once inside you made quick work with the fancy gift wrapping. You pulled out what looked like an off white bodysuit, skeptical at the size of it. It looked three times too small. Inside the bag was also a yellow cardigan with sunflowers knitted into it. Once you slipped on what you thought was a bodysuit, you realized it was a long bodycon dress. It fits like a glove. Although the dress was tight, the material was light enough that it felt like you weren't wearing anything. You slowly made your way down starting where Donghyuck was waiting for you with a pair of orange sandals. He himself wore nice fitted black slacks and a loose off white button up that paired perfectly with your dress.

“I knew it would fit you,” he gave you a quick kiss to the cheek before escorting you down to his car. Once you both arrived at the restaurant, Donghyuck got out and led the way. He had a firm grip on your hand, leading you through the building and towards the back. You could only assume he visited these restaurants often enough to know where the vip rooms were. The president's eyes locked on Donghyuck first, his eyes furrowed as he didn’t know you trailing behind.

“Donghyuck, what is the meaning of this? I thought you were serious about Y/N. Are you here to tell me that you fucked it up with her-” his irritation was cut short as you stepped out from behind Donghyuck. The president’s eyes widened in shock as he took in your figure, your abdomen twice the size it was when you first met. “Uh-” Donghyuck interpreted him.

“We wanted to come share the news with you, Father. Y/N and I are expecting a little girl in July.” The shock melted off of his face and was replaced with a large smile that reached his eyes. He quickly moved towards you, arms extended wide and developed you into a hug. He stepped back from you, scanning you before pulling your left hand up to him.

“Donghyuck, I taught you better than this. Where is this woman's ring?” your eyes practically bugged out of your head, face immediately bursting into a deep red shade as you quickly look over to Donghyuck. He doesn’t have much of a reaction. Of course you’ve thought about marriage before. Both you and Donghyuck hadn’t necessarily started out on your five step life plan as you would’ve hoped you would, you guys would just have to navigate it as you go.

“That’s a conversation for another time Father. For now, I want us to focus on the pregnancy and make sure that it goes smoothly. I want them both to be healthy.” His father had a sparkle in his eye before he stepped away from you both and turned around, pinching at the bridge of his nose. He sat down in his seat and motioned for you both to join him. His eyes looked a bit red and that's when you realised he had teared up earlier.

“I’m proud of you Donghyuck,” Donghyuck looked shocked. It had been years since he last heard his father say that to him. He didn’t know how to respond. “This has been good for you,” he paused, eyes meeting yours. “She has been good for you.” He turned his entire body toward you. “Thank you Y/N for giving him a chance. I know he’s not the easiest person to be around. I suppose he gets that from me.” He chuckled awkwardly. 

You didn’t know how to respond to him. Instead you let your hand find Donghyuck’s thigh under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. His hand laid over yours, his warmth enveloping your hand. The meal went comfortably. It was a change of pace to see Donghyuck and his father interact with each other in a more domesticated way than what you’ve heard countless times over the phone. They were both so awkward that it had you smiling, adoring the way they would pause in between conversations only to talk over each other.

The following weeks dragged on and on. The further you got along into the pregnancy the more exhausted you felt. Your ankles started to swell, you peed every hour on the hour, and you felt like a beached well half of the time. You just started your weekly check ups at your doctors office, the countdown to Woong’s due date was nearing. At your last appointment, you had just hit thirty six weeks, Dr Kim checked your cervix and informed you that Woong wasn’t head down. She had told you that if she didn’t flip before your next appointment, which was in two days, that you discuss your options.

You had dreamt of having a natural vaginal birth, you may or may not have done a deep dive on the web for birthing videos, but now it was seeming out of reach. The last two nights, almost the entire night, you had been in and out to sleep, only being awoken to what you assumed was just some braxton hicks contractions. It was hell, for both you and Donghyuck. He had hardly gotten any solid sleep, deciding to stay close enough to you should you need anything.

It was of those days where you were sprawled across the couch with your feet resting in Donghyuck’s lap, he made quick work with his fingers as he worked out the tension in the soles of your feet. You had another cramp in your stomach, only this time it was unbearable. You yelped out in pain, your arm reaching to cradle your lower stomach. “What?! What is it?” Donghyuck’s hands flew to your shoulder, helping you sit up. You shook your head, and pushed his arms off rather roughly.

“Sorry,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to control your breathing. “I can’t sit up. We need to go to the hospital now, it feels like she’s coming out now.” tears had already started to pool in your eyes and before you knew it, Donghyuck had grabbed your ‘to go’ hospital bag that had sat in the front room closet for the last month. He rushed back to you with your house slippers, sweat beading at his forehead. He slowly helped you up off of the couch, you checked behind you for a wet spot. “I don’t think my water broke so we have some time.” You slowly made your way down to the car, stopping briefly to catch your breath or if there was a particular rough contraction.

It felt like Donghyuck hit every bump the road had to offer whilst he sped to the hospital. You practically held yourself off the passenger seat due to the pressure that weighed down between your legs. He barely threw the car in park before he launched himself out of the driver's seat to assist you into the building. You had called the doctor's office to inform them that you were coming in with contracts. Renjun had sent you a message earlier that he would be at the hospital as soon as he was able to wrap up his work in case you needed anything from him. Donghyuck’s father had also called him briefly to keep him updated. By now tears had been spilling all over the place, your nose was running, and it wasn’t just because of the pain. Never in your life had you realised that you had so many people around you that cared.

The nurse escorted you as quickly as you were able to move to a room where she hooked up some monitors to your stomach to track the baby’s heartbeat and contractions. Donghyuck had helped you take off your pants so that the nurse could check your dilation. “I’ll give you a second for this contraction to pass before I check you, okay?” you briefly nodded as you closed your eyes tight, your fists clenched the bedspread beneath you. As soon as the contraction died down, the nurse inserted her fingers. You saw as she raised her eyebrows, her eyes darting around before she spoke. “Okay, we’ll be having the baby today! You are almost ten centimeters dilated. I’ll call the doctors in.” She quickly moved to your right side, inserting an IV into the back of your hand. You winced at the sudden pain.

You looked over at Donghyuck, confusion on both of your faces. What was going on? Before you knew it, the room was flooded with doctors. “What’s happening?” your voice came out frantic, the doctors around you moved the bed down and handed Donghyuck a pair of scrubs, hair net, and mask.

“I’m going to go through this quickly. We’re getting you rushed in for a c section. The baby has their legs down so we're on a time crunch before your water breaks. Please sign here, here, and here.” Your eyes were blurred with tears. This wasn’t what you wanted. Your hands shook as you handed the pen back to the doctor. They had already wheeled you out of the room and down the hall into another, leaving Donghyuck behind. You didn’t know what to focus on, you didn’t have Donghyuck next to you, your birth plan wasn’t going how you planned, and it felt like no one was telling you what was happening.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” a calming voice spoke next to you as a hand rested on your shoulder. A young lady stood next to your table, she grabbed your hand as the doctors around you instructed you to lay on your side. “They’re doing the spinal tap now. Just tuck your knees to your chest as far as you can.” you followed her instructions, squeezing her hand tightly.

“Where’s Donghyuck,” you sobbed. “I want him here with me.” the lady nodded her head in reassurance.

“He’ll be here quickly. They have him sanitizing before he arrives.” The doctors around you moved you back towards your back before slipping an oxygen mask over your face. Your eyes looked around the room, taking in the bright lights and the tarp that separated you from the other side where the doctors prepared their instruments. 

“Hey, baby, how are you feeling?” Donghyuck moved quickly next to you as the lady passed your hand into his before backing up.

“I’m scared,” you must look pitiful with all this machinery hooked up to you, eyes and nose red from crying. You were shivering too.

“It’s going to go by so quickly, you won’t even know what’s happening.” He reassures you, his free hand moving the hair out of your face before leaving a kiss on your forehead. He sat by your ear, whispers of encouragement kept your thoughts from drifting. Dr. Kim said something before calling Donghyuck over to follow her as she walked towards an incubator.

“She’s a big one mama! Eight pounds!” your head moved around as you tried to get a glimpse of your baby. You couldn’t hear her cry. Your heart rate spiked, all you wanted was to have your baby with you now. That’s when you heard it, a boisterous cry. You laughed weakly, tears of relief ran down your face now as you relaxed your head back onto the table. Donghyuck walked over to you, watery eyes with a bundle of white blankets in his hands.

“Say hi to you mama Woongie,” he held her down to rest her cheek against yours. You rubbed your face against her as you sniffled and shivered. She was perfect. A perfect round head with chubby little cheeks. Donghyuck held her back to his chest while the doctors stitched you back up. They took Woong back from Donghyuck, undressing her from the blankets and laying her against your bare chest. You let out a sigh of relief, you hand cradling her small head, barely hair in sight. You chuckled. “She got that from me,” he rested his hand against yours that cradled her head.

The nurses moved your entire bed through the hospital hallways until you reached what you assumed would be your room while you stayed there. After a brief rundown of what your first twenty four hours of Woong’s life would be like, you and Donghyuck were left alone in your hospital room, Woong asleep on your chest. You were exhausted.

Donghyuck slowly moved one of the guest’s chairs over to the side of your bed, resting his chin in the palm of his hand while the other rested against your’s on Woong’s small frame. “You were incredible Y/N,” you smiled sweetly over to him. “You safely carried Woongi and both you and her were safe during the procedure. You did so well.”

“I only did so well because you were here supporting me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t give me a chance when I first came to you.” he shook his head, looking at you with a resolved look on his face.

“You gave me the chance, not the other way around. You stuck with me when I was being an asshole. I’m glad you shook some sense into me. I can’t imagine a life different from this. A life without Woongie. Without you. You gave me a purpose in life,” his eyes trailed down towards the small figure that breathed softly on your chest. “Heh,” he chuckled. “I guess my father was right. I was so wrapped up in the mindset that my life needed to be filled with parties, events, and whatever woman I laid my eyes on. You changed my world Y/N. You showed me that what I was missing, deep down inside, wasn’t something I tried to find in flings or glasses of wine. It was you, it was her. I was looking for something, someone, to dedicate my life to. Someone that would better me. Not just for myself, but for the future of my legacy, my fathers legacy.” He slowly moved his hand to your jaw, caressing it gently as he leaned it and pressed a tender kiss to your lips. It was so warm, so full of love. He poured his thoughts and feelings into it. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. “I was looking for you.”

notes; ahhh omg never again am I going to work on a long ass fic AND and smau at the same time. That was hard af. This was 42 pages on docs....... jeeze. Please let me know what you think, I have a praise kink